Ribboning poems on Hello Poetry

Ash Duhrkoop Feb 2011

Are you alive?
Tendrils tickle the surface
And billows
Bloom from the core,
Ribboning thinner than
      those things which breach
      seawalls,
Seeping impermeable
To flirt with all sides of this vessel.

I saw in him the beauty
The same as I saw the beauty of
      suffused ink, mingling
In delicate patterns of fluidity and filament.
His release quivers momentarily,
Hung in fluid stillness, and
Flushed with a desire to saturate.

In saturation, one may think it
Possible to be falling
Up through a falling surge.

We two coalesce at the bottom.

Alison Grant-Preville Feb 2015

To R. Carlos Nakai

The quiet flute
melody
ribboning through the
murk that surrounds
my heart
sings it's way in
all the way in
to the center
where it belongs
where it weaves it's way
like a water snake
amongst the tangled reeds
of my worries
and barriers
gently pulling them
from their roots
and tying them into
beautiful bundles
each with an ethereal
flutesong bow
burden-bundles
song-swept away
unravelled
one by one
lifted by the
floating echo

a life song
rests
in my core.

R. Carlos Nakai is a native American flute player. I was listening to his enchanting music when I wrote this.

#life #music #healing #burden #unravel #flute

Moon Feb 2020

Passing Thoughts I

I am unravelling.
Fragments thin as hair pull away,
Ribboning to a dance of dust.
Of stars,
Or of dirt -
I am unsure,
But there is no weight for breeze or sun,
and yet they hold me gently within their calm.

2/22/2020 12:59am
A series of poems made from late night stumbling

#dust #stars #dirt #breeze #sun #nature #peace #night #prose

kalica calliope delphine Jan 2018

𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒖𝒓𝒐𝒓𝒂

you are a spark out of a dying ember, phoenix of my life. where one dies, another is born, and you are the lantern of the light in my darkness.

I am raw and unhinged, while you are dreamy and uninhibited. the colors of the iridescent webs you weave leave me breathless as I examine each gossamer strand.

you are artemis, the goddess of the hunt; protector of all creatures great and small. I, being a mere red fox, fall under your care. your empathetic abilities radiate so much love, and fluctuate to meet my moods and emotions.

you are as if nature and nurture collided together through the stars as they formed you.

you weave your celestial lights in the sky, my aurora borealis. you are an ethereal essence made of light and love ribboning in the night.

I want to bottle you up and keep your eternal light by my bedside to guide me throughout life – to finally say that I own and have a small piece of something of perfect divinity in nature; but I know this can't be the case.

you are wild and free; untamed by man. but I know somehow, just like the moon; you will return to me each night.

September 10th, 2014.
a ballad of deep friendship between kindred souls.

#goddess #aurora #divinity #existential #universe #ballad #friendship #life #soul #celestial

Ayesha Nadeem Jul 2018

" A Candy Trap"

A colourful candy bar,
Giving her warm fuzzies,

An angelic face,
experiencing a heaven sent,

A devilish face nearby with a malicious grin,
Ribboning lust in his heart,

Stepping towards a room full of toys,
Winning the child with petrol soaked perks,

**** of the door clicked,
Curtains being dropped,

The laughters altered to screams,
As a new leaf is turned,

Rapacious hold on the wrists,
Making the angel to vociferate,

Filthy hands and animalism,
Staining an innocent soul,

Carnal thirst being satisfied,
By victimising a child by libido,

Walls of the room tainted with a secret,
Childhood squirming in the corner,

Star shell wishes turning into coal,
Angels mourning,

Dolls gulping their tears,
Teddy bear covering his eyes with dismay,

A bruised piece of flesh and blood,
Stabbed from pain,

Butterfly peeking from a window,
Loses the colours of its wings,

The earth trembles terrifically,
As the sky detaches a star ! ⭐️

~ Ayesha Nadeem

Every single day I came to know about a child being treated brutally to fulfill ones filthy desires.My heart cries out whenever I see a child being sexually abused.
This poem is written to express the pain of a victim and to raise my voice against child abuse.

#child #abuse #**** #society #pain

Brae Jan 2021

Cannibal Wedding March

Bell-hollow throat of
pomegranate aril sweetness. Toothsome
syrupy streaks ribboning down
pharynx and larynx, red-
burnished trachea and battered
lungs. Jugular pulse-point
metronome, Mendelssohn on windpipe
*****: andante maestoso moans
burbling 4/4 pharyngeal trills.
Writhing duet on the marital
dissection table. Composition on
the anatomy of love.

oscar Jan 2021

the truth in being guilty and aware.

a wicked, unrighteous child's mind
lies closer to the truth
than a noble graybeard's ever will &
here is that only, hideous verity:
death has the body of a boy.
an ocherous-haired boy, sylphlike,
unearthly, peerless and
other word to forbear from writing 'beautiful'.

guiltless people do not know that.

'irradiating one, let me hold you', he says,
and i let him. i can recall swearing,
palms pressed together and liquid lungs
settled at the bottom of a bathroom sink,
never to allow to be eaten again
because that is what holding someone is for;
(guiltless people do not know that.)

be that as it may,
i let him.
forgiveness was never
suited for me, anyway.

there can be no fallacy;
no fraud can remain a fraud
once they are birdlimed
by a fire-stricken embrace.
a mindless prey is what they become.
a devourer is what he always was.

guiltless people do not know that.

my eyelids will not yet sink over my pupils,
not until his hidden claws,
ribboning and shredding their way
out of his unsoiled skin, turn
my neck into bloodbath,
my heart into maelstrom.

what a blessed, glory-driven way to meet death.

#love #falling #guilt #trusting #homosexuality

ali May 2021

Recess

I know now how it feels
the way schoolboys feel
when wistful winds come
to visit the playground
The ache down my spine
The ballooning in my left chest pocket
How could I not have known
the way of the schoolgirl
The skip in your skirt
The tails of your pig
There’s a pink pony tightly ribboning
a pinch in my waist, air
is a luxury when relics of you feed me from the inside out, you
are a commodity — the only food fit to fill the hollow pit in my stomach, I
crave only for you
when the recess bell rings

I had never known excitement like this before.

Whit Howland Oct 2020

Lone Street Lamp

Floating orb in the
night

as black as gold
Texas Tea

oil that is

there's been darkness
enough to go around

and around
ribboning the world

with black

but no tunnel goes on
forever

and there are jokes and laughter
along the way

Whit Howland © 2020

An abstract word painting. An original.

#blackmountainpoet

Olivia Dec 2020

When I Grow Old

When I grow old, I shall put seven cents in my pocket and give it to strangers.

I shall embark upon a journey and peddle soft, warm words that fill empty bellies and soothe tattered psyches.

I shall set up a travelling stand where the only currency we accept is memories, used and reused and sold bottled up fresh in old cans of soda.

I shall become known and unknown, even unknowable as I weave my way through threadbare mountains and ribboning streams and sing gentle songs with whatever words you’d like to hear.

I shall collect river rocks, smoothed with time and ancient expressions which I will attempt, futilely, to divine.

I shall carry all of my compliments in the stitches of my shawl and discard the insults on the ground, crumpled bits of refuse decaying in my wake, then pull my garment ever tighter such that the cruel litter may not reach me at all.

When I grow old, I shall find seven cents in my pocket given to me by a stranger.

I wrote this after reading “The Father Costume,” a novel which I still do not fully understand.

— The End —