"obviated" poems - Hello Poetry

We watched the sun fall down and scrape its knee again, across the horizon. Effusing amaranth, carmine, and cochineal across polluted vista. It felt petty to issue guttural laughs, or engage the myofacial crescents beneath its visual lament as the Earth turned its back again. We watched the sun rise, bruised, tender and shy this morning. Its muddled contusion obviated by the gauze of fog. A mottled neophyte - Luminescent crepuscular rays defied dregs of interstellar debris and cloud. Aching to kiss your skin - In stellar cloud nursery, it eschewed the torque of orbit and gravity - eras before verity of your essence. Humbly settling concentrically about oblate sphere, and gaseous tome. Latterly - It altered the atmospheric pressure on the other side of the planet a week antecedently, as you clung to your dream lattice, and Earth innately turned oblate nucleus. Its intent – A veneration of you. It bade the atmosphere convey a breeze echoing about your dermis, as it gilded your frame laconically, betwixt shaded steps beneath cloud and arbor. The sun yelled at me at its pinnacle today, Pallid bone – molten - miasma of rage Its core missive garnered inertia – coronal plasma warping ellipsoid factions in inflections of elusive filigree Pirouetting spicules spattered smelted torrents in the dismal anchorite Atomic schism – silent but felt It stoked humidity under shadowed niche - casual vaporous smears evinced no clemency. Flesh torqued, and seized beneath itself, briny globules shed from puckered pore. Culminations of sensitive fluid sacs scorched into the shallows of my chassis. Insignia knit in cellular shrapnel The sun ignored me today – or perhaps, it was I it. Enigmatic tenacious resolution – an echo of its gravitational collapse Inverse thermonuclear fusion It is not fear in a relationship that keeps you apart, it is neglect of the infinitesimal.

0

Jan 26, 2014

Jan 26, 2014 at 9:13 PM UTC

meagan-moore

Heliophilia

We watched the sun fall down and scrape its knee again, across the horizon. Effusing amaranth, carmine, and cochineal across polluted vista. It felt petty to issue guttural laughs, or engage the myofacial crescents beneath its visual lament as the Earth turned its back again. We watched the sun rise, bruised, tender and shy this morning. Its muddled contusion obviated by the gauze of fog. A mottled neophyte - Luminescent crepuscular rays defied dregs of interstellar debris and cloud. Aching to kiss your skin - In stellar cloud nursery, it eschewed the torque of orbit and gravity - eras before verity of your essence. Humbly settling concentrically about oblate sphere, and gaseous tome. Latterly - It altered the atmospheric pressure on the other side of the planet a week antecedently, as you clung to your dream lattice, and Earth innately turned oblate nucleus. Its intent – A veneration of you. It bade the atmosphere convey a breeze echoing about your dermis, as it gilded your frame laconically, betwixt shaded steps beneath cloud and arbor. The sun yelled at me at its pinnacle today, Pallid bone – molten - miasma of rage Its core missive garnered inertia – coronal plasma warping ellipsoid factions in inflections of elusive filigree Pirouetting spicules spattered smelted torrents in the dismal anchorite Atomic schism – silent but felt It stoked humidity under shadowed niche - casual vaporous smears evinced no clemency. Flesh torqued, and seized beneath itself, briny globules shed from puckered pore. Culminations of sensitive fluid sacs scorched into the shallows of my chassis. Insignia knit in cellular shrapnel The sun ignored me today – or perhaps, it was I it. Enigmatic tenacious resolution – an echo of its gravitational collapse Inverse thermonuclear fusion It is not fear in a relationship that keeps you apart, it is neglect of the infinitesimal.

27

562 Conjecturing a Climate Of unsuspended Suns— Adds poignancy to Winter— The Shivering Fancy turns To a fictitious Country To palliate a Cold— Not obviated of Degree— Nor erased—of Latitude—

0

2k

Emily Dickinson

Conjecturing a Climate

562 Conjecturing a Climate Of unsuspended Suns— Adds poignancy to Winter— The Shivering Fancy turns To a fictitious Country To palliate a Cold— Not obviated of Degree— Nor erased—of Latitude—

9

Romancing the theories obviated by practice Cryptic names in the fiasco Work supplants play for the new actors So time is technology? Mass ethics supersede reason Who are the cornerstone language guardians? Radical superordination is for all Ancient mystery can still delineate precise uncertinty Shall edicts manifest by resurrection? The conundrum must be isolated from protocol In an analysis suddenly unframed Compromise only promises compounded civility

0

Aug 20, 2013

Aug 20, 2013 at 7:48 PM UTC

davi-bauer

Protocol

Romancing the theories obviated by practice Cryptic names in the fiasco Work supplants play for the new actors So time is technology? Mass ethics supersede reason Who are the cornerstone language guardians? Radical superordination is for all Ancient mystery can still delineate precise uncertinty Shall edicts manifest by resurrection? The conundrum must be isolated from protocol In an analysis suddenly unframed Compromise only promises compounded civility

12

567 He gave away his Life— To Us—Gigantic Sum— A trifle—in his own esteem— But magnified—by Fame— Until it burst the Hearts That fancied they could hold— When swift it slipped its limit— And on the Heavens—unrolled— ’Tis Ours—to wince—and weep— And wonder—and decay By Blossoms gradual process— He chose—Maturity— And quickening—as we sowed— Just obviated Bud— And when We turned to note the Growth— Broke—perfect—from the Pod—

0

944

Emily Dickinson

He gave away his Life

567 He gave away his Life— To Us—Gigantic Sum— A trifle—in his own esteem— But magnified—by Fame— Until it burst the Hearts That fancied they could hold— When swift it slipped its limit— And on the Heavens—unrolled— ’Tis Ours—to wince—and weep— And wonder—and decay By Blossoms gradual process— He chose—Maturity— And quickening—as we sowed— Just obviated Bud— And when We turned to note the Growth— Broke—perfect—from the Pod—

17

I like to write when drunk and high, that's when emotions run. Sometimes I even find it nice, to set ink when I get spun. Alcohol is lubrication, when my thoughts are just too bound. The ******* see's acceleration, words just flow when I get wound. I'm not an addict or a shmuck, I'm a pretty simple man. Just one who's more than down on luck; my whole life has strayed from plans. Yes I'm often found inebriated, I hope you'll excuse the current condition. It just seems to me while obviated, I adopt a cleaner disposition.

0

May 22, 2015

May 22, 2015 at 11:04 PM UTC

jacob-christopher

Drunken Ramblings XXXV

I like to write when drunk and high, that's when emotions run. Sometimes I even find it nice, to set ink when I get spun. Alcohol is lubrication, when my thoughts are just too bound. The ******* see's acceleration, words just flow when I get wound. I'm not an addict or a shmuck, I'm a pretty simple man. Just one who's more than down on luck; my whole life has strayed from plans. Yes I'm often found inebriated, I hope you'll excuse the current condition. It just seems to me while obviated, I adopt a cleaner disposition.

16

now that the Covid Nineteen virus is in our sphere we'll have to get used to it circulating around here every year we'll need a vaccination so our bodies will acquire immunity from strains which are floating about the virus can't be totally eliminated nor can it be obviated virologists world wide want it to be contained by slowing the transmission of which its trained Covid Nineteen is here to stay and it's not ever going away

0

Aug 8, 2021

Aug 8, 2021 at 6:44 PM UTC

ElizabethSquires

In Our Sphere

now that the Covid Nineteen virus is in our sphere we'll have to get used to it circulating around here every year we'll need a vaccination so our bodies will acquire immunity from strains which are floating about the virus can't be totally eliminated nor can it be obviated virologists world wide want it to be contained by slowing the transmission of which its trained Covid Nineteen is here to stay and it's not ever going away

21