"percept" poems - Hello Poetry

My happiness comes from me ask my friends and the world around me blossoming in a spark of crimsony red moon glow on forethought walks through the shivering lenses of percept that trickle down our backs as we enlighten ourselves with all that is in between and unseen. It is as if our aged limbs were caressed into a symphony of leverages and their shapes. We cannot be cadavers. We are arms of cheer and picture jasper, adolescent googled-eyes gathers with virile fixations on our partners as we prey on the map lines subtly employing our eyes as we dart across each dimple, pimple, freckle, and gently worn rash lines. These are the dogs of our incessant barking. Idling for sincerity, as actors swiftly press Winter into us while our limbless diction presents our inadequacy Rd upon our ugly and I'll-tempered neighborly-things. Aliens of the afternoon, first floor agony and karmas standard for living in a reduced climate One. Wearing down the hooves, undulates from Pepperdine mark trails with breaking breads and twigs and bones. Undulates from another world, behoofed and bemoved, curdling their sappy reselling a of drat and unkindly remarks. And we have begun to wonder when evolution will kick-in. When will the military come for them at the doors and vacate is all from our nontoxic lie-shrouded apartment complexes, condos, and cabins. Slaughter numbers of letters and integers right out in the street; loonies in the town square and the moose are crying.

0

Sep 17, 2016

Sep 17, 2016 at 9:52 PM UTC

martin-narrod

Weighing Us Down, Down In The Weather

My happiness comes from me ask my friends and the world around me blossoming in a spark of crimsony red moon glow on forethought walks through the shivering lenses of percept that trickle down our backs as we enlighten ourselves with all that is in between and unseen. It is as if our aged limbs were caressed into a symphony of leverages and their shapes. We cannot be cadavers. We are arms of cheer and picture jasper, adolescent googled-eyes gathers with virile fixations on our partners as we prey on the map lines subtly employing our eyes as we dart across each dimple, pimple, freckle, and gently worn rash lines. These are the dogs of our incessant barking. Idling for sincerity, as actors swiftly press Winter into us while our limbless diction presents our inadequacy Rd upon our ugly and I'll-tempered neighborly-things. Aliens of the afternoon, first floor agony and karmas standard for living in a reduced climate One. Wearing down the hooves, undulates from Pepperdine mark trails with breaking breads and twigs and bones. Undulates from another world, behoofed and bemoved, curdling their sappy reselling a of drat and unkindly remarks. And we have begun to wonder when evolution will kick-in. When will the military come for them at the doors and vacate is all from our nontoxic lie-shrouded apartment complexes, condos, and cabins. Slaughter numbers of letters and integers right out in the street; loonies in the town square and the moose are crying.

4

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . i would like a space marked out wherein in silence i'd observe my sacral auguries, and insularly divine amid mid-dawning light contingencies, to sweep a magic sweep for sunrise- -tabula|_|rasa and find, founded in a flout: a sect beyond sects to section self sectionless~ inwrought helix interhelix nest~ and there reside attentively ()blinking() s l o w ...ly in rainbow eyelash quiver flow, arrows soaring ' ' ' ' ' 'centerly to pin each whirl of dream, of sleep, mneumonic residue, prehensions right or wrong clear through -- symbological goo, too-- all too evidently called from out an obvious deep oblivion of plenum om, or so it's said it's seen in clear eidetic percept room of alter overmInd of mindstuff's tomb [*] and form of selfish altar drama gone and soon for looking in or out or neither both oblique, about aboutness-mirror zoom~ to which what spectionism halves behaving in a twofold twining intro free: the finest of the fine: insight-interred intuited sign quiescently, albeit doubtfully at times, benign . . . .

0

Aug 4, 2012

Aug 4, 2012 at 4:32 PM UTC

vircapio-gale

(templum) for an inner sectionalism (/escapism)

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . i would like a space marked out wherein in silence i'd observe my sacral auguries, and insularly divine amid mid-dawning light contingencies, to sweep a magic sweep for sunrise- -tabula|_|rasa and find, founded in a flout: a sect beyond sects to section self sectionless~ inwrought helix interhelix nest~ and there reside attentively ()blinking() s l o w ...ly in rainbow eyelash quiver flow, arrows soaring ' ' ' ' ' 'centerly to pin each whirl of dream, of sleep, mneumonic residue, prehensions right or wrong clear through -- symbological goo, too-- all too evidently called from out an obvious deep oblivion of plenum om, or so it's said it's seen in clear eidetic percept room of alter overmInd of mindstuff's tomb [*] and form of selfish altar drama gone and soon for looking in or out or neither both oblique, about aboutness-mirror zoom~ to which what spectionism halves behaving in a twofold twining intro free: the finest of the fine: insight-interred intuited sign quiescently, albeit doubtfully at times, benign . . . .

41

“This Insubstantial Pageant Faded” (spoke by Prospero, The Tempest, by W. Shakespeare)^ <> Our words are all actors, a long run, run its course, our long playing record, scratched, love~worn to worn out extremity, yet yeoman service did offer, extreme only in magical transforming plain sight into visions, a legacy, bent gray, tarnished by weary wearing aging, their brief sparks now but reclamation flares of burst lights of waning days in short lived tastings of what was and can be nevermore everyone’s magic has its preset timed timing, and with every day, each a concentric ring marked and hallowed, a heartbeat ring narrower than its predecessor, a shallower hollow, a fair represent of both all that came our way, and that we resent with no resentment into a cloud capped atmosphere for all to ****** from a flailing, flying breeze, their brief gleam, multiplying, thus envisaging, illuminating the manuscript of our hinted future forward’s next percept * “And like this insubstantial pageant faded Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep”*^

0

Mar 2, 2024

Mar 2, 2024 at 8:23 AM UTC

nat-lipstadt

“This Insubstantial Pageant Faded”

“This Insubstantial Pageant Faded” (spoke by Prospero, The Tempest, by W. Shakespeare)^ <> Our words are all actors, a long run, run its course, our long playing record, scratched, love~worn to worn out extremity, yet yeoman service did offer, extreme only in magical transforming plain sight into visions, a legacy, bent gray, tarnished by weary wearing aging, their brief sparks now but reclamation flares of burst lights of waning days in short lived tastings of what was and can be nevermore everyone’s magic has its preset timed timing, and with every day, each a concentric ring marked and hallowed, a heartbeat ring narrower than its predecessor, a shallower hollow, a fair represent of both all that came our way, and that we resent with no resentment into a cloud capped atmosphere for all to ****** from a flailing, flying breeze, their brief gleam, multiplying, thus envisaging, illuminating the manuscript of our hinted future forward’s next percept * “And like this insubstantial pageant faded Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep”*^

40

Missed so often are the gestures Of emotions without measure But no less heavy from here to there. Through nonverbal communication Not similar to meditation We may speak on the body's accord. For it does not require sound To make meaning leap and bound Far beyond the transgression of varying tongues. There is understanding in sight's percept Often retold in a night or two slept Still she is all the fills my mind. So while a gesture I have yet to see A burning in my mind has yet to flee As a vision has my emotions lost for words.

0

Feb 22, 2014

Feb 22, 2014 at 12:28 PM UTC

Docstrange

Awaited touch...

Missed so often are the gestures Of emotions without measure But no less heavy from here to there. Through nonverbal communication Not similar to meditation We may speak on the body's accord. For it does not require sound To make meaning leap and bound Far beyond the transgression of varying tongues. There is understanding in sight's percept Often retold in a night or two slept Still she is all the fills my mind. So while a gesture I have yet to see A burning in my mind has yet to flee As a vision has my emotions lost for words.

15

Draw a clear line, definite demarcation of reality and illusion, he was given the brief straight and simple, by the impatient project chief, no ambiguity to it, just a matter of sorting it out, what is real, what isn't when far enough in to it, he found it humbling, everything real begins from nebulous, returns to it, real and illusive, are in a dance of interchange, exhilarating, the cheer spreads as cosmic glow beyond destruction and creation universe, a kaleidoscopic percept seemed a conjure of cosmic imagination.

0

Aug 13, 2013

Aug 13, 2013 at 11:36 PM UTC

k-balachandran

Reality is the beauty, in an illusory body

Draw a clear line, definite demarcation of reality and illusion, he was given the brief straight and simple, by the impatient project chief, no ambiguity to it, just a matter of sorting it out, what is real, what isn't when far enough in to it, he found it humbling, everything real begins from nebulous, returns to it, real and illusive, are in a dance of interchange, exhilarating, the cheer spreads as cosmic glow beyond destruction and creation universe, a kaleidoscopic percept seemed a conjure of cosmic imagination.

10

I percept constant war for identities between my two parts.. Part one who has wings; wants to fly a high in sky; Who hates when somebody judges Just from clothes and heels and I ask why ?? This part of me is rebellion and carefree ......... But then I

0

Jul 11, 2013

Jul 11, 2013 at 2:23 PM UTC

toral-panchal

Being An Indian Girl

I percept constant war for identities between my two parts.. Part one who has wings; wants to fly a high in sky; Who hates when somebody judges Just from clothes and heels and I ask why ?? This part of me is rebellion and carefree ......... But then I

9

when I turn my head and look at things sideways Consider the edge of light and dark mathmatically an asymptote approaching infinity vis a vis the starlight I see on a clear night, so real and clearly now, is the past, actually, someday when it crossed milions of light years, to be in my telescope, The closest I can be to now, is a memory when I percept it. On a daylight, I think might, my real no matter how fast or hard I try to be in it, is a past forever.

0

Jul 8, 2015

Jul 8, 2015 at 9:20 PM UTC

wordvango

crystal clarity

when I turn my head and look at things sideways Consider the edge of light and dark mathmatically an asymptote approaching infinity vis a vis the starlight I see on a clear night, so real and clearly now, is the past, actually, someday when it crossed milions of light years, to be in my telescope, The closest I can be to now, is a memory when I percept it. On a daylight, I think might, my real no matter how fast or hard I try to be in it, is a past forever.

15

So many words I told you Meaningful and meaningless wave vibrations through air with the hope to percept that I'm not a poet But you are poetry.

0

Jun 25, 2017

Jun 25, 2017 at 2:47 AM UTC

vlassis

You're poetry

So many words I told you Meaningful and meaningless wave vibrations through air with the hope to percept that I'm not a poet But you are poetry.

6

Gradually gaining higher numbers. Transcending every object as a label sending the unfortunate message that it is just one thing pretending. Superordinate levels and their deceiving ways. Label me a man, writer, lover, crazy person, label me as much as needed. Why label traits, much deeper seeded, as your own percept instead of looking for the seed itself in dept?

0

Mar 18, 2016

Mar 18, 2016 at 1:00 PM UTC

Daan

Not a poem

Gradually gaining higher numbers. Transcending every object as a label sending the unfortunate message that it is just one thing pretending. Superordinate levels and their deceiving ways. Label me a man, writer, lover, crazy person, label me as much as needed. Why label traits, much deeper seeded, as your own percept instead of looking for the seed itself in dept?

12

in the Mystery , Poisons of the emotions reveal themselves to seek an ally for strongly rebel against to the Hope , as if it all not co-exist , desperately. a fundamental question rise then , you name it. my pain is like their treat. they feed themselves with it. as the mystery increases my pains , they consume my emotions , in poor little portions. poisons of the emotions continue to the same , never ending circle goes around my vein. my perceptions turns into the delusions. and my delusions becomes what I percept. they want to run away from each other while trying to catch. i can shut my eyes and believe that the Sun isn’t there. i can close my ears and pretend to not Hear what’s been unsaid. i can shush my mouth and assume that My Heart is not saying it all already. thorns are always welcome for it's rose. I wanna Feel different. some feelings are Like a Phantom for the sake of their existence. I wanna feel sunny. Handenur Özata

0

Jan 16, 2021

Jan 16, 2021 at 4:13 PM UTC

hande

Whirling Locks

in the Mystery , Poisons of the emotions reveal themselves to seek an ally for strongly rebel against to the Hope , as if it all not co-exist , desperately. a fundamental question rise then , you name it. my pain is like their treat. they feed themselves with it. as the mystery increases my pains , they consume my emotions , in poor little portions. poisons of the emotions continue to the same , never ending circle goes around my vein. my perceptions turns into the delusions. and my delusions becomes what I percept. they want to run away from each other while trying to catch. i can shut my eyes and believe that the Sun isn’t there. i can close my ears and pretend to not Hear what’s been unsaid. i can shush my mouth and assume that My Heart is not saying it all already. thorns are always welcome for it's rose. I wanna Feel different. some feelings are Like a Phantom for the sake of their existence. I wanna feel sunny. Handenur Özata

13

One who has anger kept Has never ever he leapt Beyond boundary and wept For his misfortune slept Because of his wrong concept As Ashwathama’s concept. Nobody here is ever unwept; So don’t always backswept By certain emotions inept Like Anger and have percept Which lead you be a nympholept. Be the person who has crept For perfection – void of windswept – Attained salvation and stepped Into ever-increasing peace precept. Those who avoided it adept To tell that peace in mind unswept; Anger, A Vice not Virtue except For those who has clear concept.

0

Aug 13, 2017

Aug 13, 2017 at 7:33 AM UTC

ksjpari

Anger – A Crime – 2

One who has anger kept Has never ever he leapt Beyond boundary and wept For his misfortune slept Because of his wrong concept As Ashwathama’s concept. Nobody here is ever unwept; So don’t always backswept By certain emotions inept Like Anger and have percept Which lead you be a nympholept. Be the person who has crept For perfection – void of windswept – Attained salvation and stepped Into ever-increasing peace precept. Those who avoided it adept To tell that peace in mind unswept; Anger, A Vice not Virtue except For those who has clear concept.

19

The wind blows. Tracking, violating, a little train on its way to the E island for the ninety-fourth time this day in this infinitesimal airport, this enormous node converged of weaves of space, meaning collided. A young woman gazing somewhere not special, until my sight aligned with hers: rail unravels its skeleton as the train forwards only as bitten by the steal heaviness, that guises dumb voyagers, a heavy lightness inside. Tapped by sound, a haphazard feeling of mind, I percept couples prattling in native English from scattering finches called home Drifting away or reflowing towards, adjacency suspends in lenses of all. Afraid to envision the scent of seeds unplanted, to dwell on questions without an answer, to defy gravity, I know you are too. The wind blows. Departing with my hue of strength found in all that I lacked, a sprawl of bouncing breeze leaves my tune beneath the rail.

0

Sep 25, 2025

Sep 25, 2025 at 1:51 PM UTC

EvelynYiningChen

A thousand blown dandelions

The wind blows. Tracking, violating, a little train on its way to the E island for the ninety-fourth time this day in this infinitesimal airport, this enormous node converged of weaves of space, meaning collided. A young woman gazing somewhere not special, until my sight aligned with hers: rail unravels its skeleton as the train forwards only as bitten by the steal heaviness, that guises dumb voyagers, a heavy lightness inside. Tapped by sound, a haphazard feeling of mind, I percept couples prattling in native English from scattering finches called home Drifting away or reflowing towards, adjacency suspends in lenses of all. Afraid to envision the scent of seeds unplanted, to dwell on questions without an answer, to defy gravity, I know you are too. The wind blows. Departing with my hue of strength found in all that I lacked, a sprawl of bouncing breeze leaves my tune beneath the rail.

25

Have found immediacy, empty touching mantra enchanting positioning paleo lingual pings asking attention, empty mind state, concentrating mental energy outward, externalities inward, who first? Browning - visiting ancient Etruscan Faesulae, conquered by Romans. In Roman antiquity, the seat, we see of a famous school of augurs and, every year, twelve young men were sent there from Rome to study the art of divination. "Who listened to the Legate's talk last week, "And just as much they used to say in France... "At any rate 'tis easy, all of it!" How familiar are the settings, put forth in dramatic monologue, easy feels familiar, least among giants, seeing, believing all available science, in the time of Raphael 'n'em, who can yet recall “Andrea del Sarto” though, Browning gave him space, to firm aspirations, to make good, be good producers, selling life's sizzle, most all sales trainers use one line, alone… common extension To succeed one must believe, verbally grasping will to sell b to b marketing, on the Mammonic entrancement, please try to grasp the nature of worth… to a poet in the space we use, for free for your examined life… you knew “Andrea del Sarto” by Robert Browning rates one precept, out of the anxious mind percept whence comes this common inspiration, say this mountain moves. Say it in the name of Jesu - on Earth, as it is, just so Amen, Browning was a master… "Speak as they please, what does the mountain care? "Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp, Or what's a heaven for? "

0

Jan 19, 2025

Jan 19, 2025 at 7:44 PM UTC

kenpepiton

Who last? Who first

Have found immediacy, empty touching mantra enchanting positioning paleo lingual pings asking attention, empty mind state, concentrating mental energy outward, externalities inward, who first? Browning - visiting ancient Etruscan Faesulae, conquered by Romans. In Roman antiquity, the seat, we see of a famous school of augurs and, every year, twelve young men were sent there from Rome to study the art of divination. "Who listened to the Legate's talk last week, "And just as much they used to say in France... "At any rate 'tis easy, all of it!" How familiar are the settings, put forth in dramatic monologue, easy feels familiar, least among giants, seeing, believing all available science, in the time of Raphael 'n'em, who can yet recall “Andrea del Sarto” though, Browning gave him space, to firm aspirations, to make good, be good producers, selling life's sizzle, most all sales trainers use one line, alone… common extension To succeed one must believe, verbally grasping will to sell b to b marketing, on the Mammonic entrancement, please try to grasp the nature of worth… to a poet in the space we use, for free for your examined life… you knew “Andrea del Sarto” by Robert Browning rates one precept, out of the anxious mind percept whence comes this common inspiration, say this mountain moves. Say it in the name of Jesu - on Earth, as it is, just so Amen, Browning was a master… "Speak as they please, what does the mountain care? "Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp, Or what's a heaven for? "

66