"prising" poems - Hello Poetry

crinkle the chippies wrinkle the bag savour the salt you're now a potato lad buy the chippies bag after bag don't bother about the belly sag you're now a potato lad wonderous flavours... to be had don't you worry if your skin has gone bad you're now a potato lad cholesteral rising, have trouble prising, your doubled in sizing, couch potato spread. no, not you you're a potato lad don't worry bout that, at least, a third of the world is morbidly fat. besides my man, you don't need to cry. they went organic, buy, only happy, free range kipfler joys. they reduced the fat, changed the taste. and now your favourite chips, are too expensive to buy. so my boy, you, no longer can afford... to be a potato lad *here endeth the unhealthy potato lad fad*

0

Apr 10, 2014

Apr 10, 2014 at 5:23 PM UTC

betterdays

potato love

crinkle the chippies wrinkle the bag savour the salt you're now a potato lad buy the chippies bag after bag don't bother about the belly sag you're now a potato lad wonderous flavours... to be had don't you worry if your skin has gone bad you're now a potato lad cholesteral rising, have trouble prising, your doubled in sizing, couch potato spread. no, not you you're a potato lad don't worry bout that, at least, a third of the world is morbidly fat. besides my man, you don't need to cry. they went organic, buy, only happy, free range kipfler joys. they reduced the fat, changed the taste. and now your favourite chips, are too expensive to buy. so my boy, you, no longer can afford... to be a potato lad *here endeth the unhealthy potato lad fad*

39

Far FAR from the world.... WORLD... whorled my world HERE condensed here con CON con-densed dying densed a ho-HOme mmmme-me hewn in stone Prison for prison pri pri pri sonnnn here a drop of silence echoes si lence sisisilensilensilense pins pins pins dropped, trickling distant water trick-ling in the pud-dle a mud-dle cal-led li-fe a cave home, far away from home, is this a noise of thoughts, rushing past a gorge of silence. how it was meant to be? consuming homes in deluge, after the rains, trickle silences, replaying lives, screened all around in silken mists lightning bolts prising open recesses dark.

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Mar 27, 2015

Mar 27, 2015 at 5:54 PM UTC

prabhu-iyer

Cave woman | The Hermit

Far FAR from the world.... WORLD... whorled my world HERE condensed here con CON con-densed dying densed a ho-HOme mmmme-me hewn in stone Prison for prison pri pri pri sonnnn here a drop of silence echoes si lence sisisilensilensilense pins pins pins dropped, trickling distant water trick-ling in the pud-dle a mud-dle cal-led li-fe a cave home, far away from home, is this a noise of thoughts, rushing past a gorge of silence. how it was meant to be? consuming homes in deluge, after the rains, trickle silences, replaying lives, screened all around in silken mists lightning bolts prising open recesses dark.

19

We were probably thirteen. I told my parents I'd be bowling, borrowed five pounds and you did the hard part. Asking men out- side the off-licence to help us. I tried to make if look like we were old- er or together but it wasn't long before we had the bottle or six of Bacardi Breezer. Prising each lid off with my keys, you picked out seats from the dusk deserted cricket stand. A couple through, you showed me how to put my hand in someone's pants as sticky alcopops slopped round and down again. I couldn't open our last nightcap so we stamped its neck against a brick and doubled up. We didn't kiss goodbye, just staggered into swaggers step by step across the Common. My mouth fizzed with syrup residue and blood from broken glass.

0

May 10, 2015

May 10, 2015 at 9:26 AM UTC

damian

Scar

We were probably thirteen. I told my parents I'd be bowling, borrowed five pounds and you did the hard part. Asking men out- side the off-licence to help us. I tried to make if look like we were old- er or together but it wasn't long before we had the bottle or six of Bacardi Breezer. Prising each lid off with my keys, you picked out seats from the dusk deserted cricket stand. A couple through, you showed me how to put my hand in someone's pants as sticky alcopops slopped round and down again. I couldn't open our last nightcap so we stamped its neck against a brick and doubled up. We didn't kiss goodbye, just staggered into swaggers step by step across the Common. My mouth fizzed with syrup residue and blood from broken glass.

24

Next time hatches will batten down, slumbers start, laces tied and cold proof coats dry before loose leaves struggle to stay. Plans, preparation against a season. Until blossom begins, prising open hibernation curls with the promise of something.

0

May 31, 2013

May 31, 2013 at 5:28 AM UTC

simon-soane

Next Time

Next time hatches will batten down, slumbers start, laces tied and cold proof coats dry before loose leaves struggle to stay. Plans, preparation against a season. Until blossom begins, prising open hibernation curls with the promise of something.

15

Prising through the fog like creeping fingers headlights approach slowly, glaring and foul from beneath the obscurement of mist, a demoniac engine gurgles and growls. A 1958 Plymouth Fury, one beauty of a car, spoilers whistling, axels whispering [THIEF] ancient, but without sentiment - the grills above her bumper curved into slender-hooked teeth blood-red and fat, a body that's sleek, bloated, ready to chastise; one twisted zygote, a devil's reject - from the depths of a broken heart, tendrils of fury begin to rise blue-smoke billowing behind in transient swirls, my mind bends as reality curls, still lay here and she's getting closer - and closer - [- oh leave me be - - just let me go - - crawl someplace where your face won't show -] She can't understand that my love for her is no longer, she can't seem to understand that my resistance to her charms is so much stronger - and still she speeds along the highway taking the night and violently painting it red, her wheels squealing towards the dusty asphalt where I lie my head, speeding along not slowing down - ["Hey stop! No please STOP!!!"] ///CRUNCH///..-.

0

Apr 23, 2015

Apr 23, 2015 at 4:49 PM UTC

lexander-jones

My Pristine... My Christine

Prising through the fog like creeping fingers headlights approach slowly, glaring and foul from beneath the obscurement of mist, a demoniac engine gurgles and growls. A 1958 Plymouth Fury, one beauty of a car, spoilers whistling, axels whispering [THIEF] ancient, but without sentiment - the grills above her bumper curved into slender-hooked teeth blood-red and fat, a body that's sleek, bloated, ready to chastise; one twisted zygote, a devil's reject - from the depths of a broken heart, tendrils of fury begin to rise blue-smoke billowing behind in transient swirls, my mind bends as reality curls, still lay here and she's getting closer - and closer - [- oh leave me be - - just let me go - - crawl someplace where your face won't show -] She can't understand that my love for her is no longer, she can't seem to understand that my resistance to her charms is so much stronger - and still she speeds along the highway taking the night and violently painting it red, her wheels squealing towards the dusty asphalt where I lie my head, speeding along not slowing down - ["Hey stop! No please STOP!!!"] ///CRUNCH///..-.

30

Insidious......deceptive... under cover of the dark... Inveigling....creeping... grasping at my heart! Whispering.....yearning.... suggesting, but discrete.... Implying....hinting... paths that cross and meet. Howling ......longing.... echoing deep inside..... Tempting......prising.... forcing feelings to collide! Gasping.....screaming..... whimpering my plea..... Unclasp my soul with both hands.... and set it roaming free.......

0

Aug 22, 2014

Aug 22, 2014 at 9:09 PM UTC

ali-mayo

Untitled

Insidious......deceptive... under cover of the dark... Inveigling....creeping... grasping at my heart! Whispering.....yearning.... suggesting, but discrete.... Implying....hinting... paths that cross and meet. Howling ......longing.... echoing deep inside..... Tempting......prising.... forcing feelings to collide! Gasping.....screaming..... whimpering my plea..... Unclasp my soul with both hands.... and set it roaming free.......

16

I am the earth, you the tree oh, grow, grow Some fire spouts from the heat of the tongue. A silver candlestick on the table strike a match And the world is lit. Come, drink it now with me one smile, two kind words Wrath easy vanished. From where comes light in so dank a corner? like prising one word from fissures tight But wonders never cease.

0

Jan 28, 2015

Jan 28, 2015 at 2:33 PM UTC

fortywinks

Strike a match

I am the earth, you the tree oh, grow, grow Some fire spouts from the heat of the tongue. A silver candlestick on the table strike a match And the world is lit. Come, drink it now with me one smile, two kind words Wrath easy vanished. From where comes light in so dank a corner? like prising one word from fissures tight But wonders never cease.

12

Ask me what's going on and I think, then I'll tell you they're not building a bomb we are the bomb that is what's going on. unlit but fused and we're going to be used. This is the minefield from which we cannot escape this is today and tomorrow won't wait. It wasn't always like this even in the dark ages when they illuminated pages manuscripts but that's been stripped away all we have today is the gnawing sensation that a great conflagration is due. The rapture will come not with a heavenly choir but with explosions from the barrel of a gun. Complain? Tell me to whom? Boom another gun blast you'd better believe it the clocks running on fast overdrive. Survive? you might do but you won't find an Eve believe me. I've written a will there'll be no one to leave my earthly possessions to, still, it's one of the things that we do. Guess I'm through sermonising priding myself that it wasn't me prising the lid off Pandora's box.

0

Jul 7, 2016

Jul 7, 2016 at 6:25 AM UTC

john-edward-smallshaw

Revelations part two

Ask me what's going on and I think, then I'll tell you they're not building a bomb we are the bomb that is what's going on. unlit but fused and we're going to be used. This is the minefield from which we cannot escape this is today and tomorrow won't wait. It wasn't always like this even in the dark ages when they illuminated pages manuscripts but that's been stripped away all we have today is the gnawing sensation that a great conflagration is due. The rapture will come not with a heavenly choir but with explosions from the barrel of a gun. Complain? Tell me to whom? Boom another gun blast you'd better believe it the clocks running on fast overdrive. Survive? you might do but you won't find an Eve believe me. I've written a will there'll be no one to leave my earthly possessions to, still, it's one of the things that we do. Guess I'm through sermonising priding myself that it wasn't me prising the lid off Pandora's box.

48

Yesterday wept bitterly at the threshold when I left her, gently prising my fingers free of her clutching hands. Will I see you again, she asked. Maybe, I mumbled and I stepped out into the twilight. Tomorrow stood there waiting like a bride shy, tremulous drawing little rings in the sand with her toes. I hurried towards her. I was aware of the sand slippingawayfromundermyfeet like the last grains hurtling down the neck of a ruthless hourglass. Come to me, my love, I whispered as I grabbed her hungrily.

0

Jan 29, 2022

Jan 29, 2022 at 7:50 PM UTC

anilkumar-parat

Leaving the threshold

Yesterday wept bitterly at the threshold when I left her, gently prising my fingers free of her clutching hands. Will I see you again, she asked. Maybe, I mumbled and I stepped out into the twilight. Tomorrow stood there waiting like a bride shy, tremulous drawing little rings in the sand with her toes. I hurried towards her. I was aware of the sand slippingawayfromundermyfeet like the last grains hurtling down the neck of a ruthless hourglass. Come to me, my love, I whispered as I grabbed her hungrily.

22