Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"rifted" poems
Tear asunder the hatred and disbelief and you will find a sapling crawling under your skin digging deeper as you breathe finding its way to your heart. ------- Close your eyes and feel your pulse as it weakens every moment finding light from deep within as the blood gush and wreathe In your soul that has been rifted apart. ------- Rest your mind and think of the carcasses that has once surrounded you and how long the time has been when you pulled the sword out of its sheathe and the battle has yet to start.
0
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 5:26 PM UTC
Reminiscing
if you drill down, past the hair, flesh and bone. into my mind where the ego and id  reside. then turn to the left, and follow the i.q. down the alley, you will find a place. where on thrones of cogitating thoughts, king big questions asked, reigns in conjunction, with, queen yet unanswered. they watch with interest benign, over a field of  an eternal tourney, split roughly down the middle by a chasm quite wide. on one side of the gorge is arrayed, the banners of philosophy. at the vanguard, the epistemological knights; plato, descartes, ferrier, kant, hume,spinoza and bosanquet. the major forces ride beneath the banners, of their schools of thought. followed by the lesser lights, and those, obscure or forgotten, who walk at the rear,carrying the gear and to set the tent poles. as to the other side, that is given to, the seminaries of religion; bhuddism, taoism, islam, hindu, juche, rastafarian, sikh, diasporic, parsis, tenrikyo, judaism and christianity with all its clans. they array themselves in cadres, according to belief. and to the rear, there rides, an interesting guerilla band, of intertestemantals, about 3 or 4 hundred years wide. these are the few who are  accounted for, when god spoke nothing, or perhaps a lot but the message just got lost. they number in their disparate clan, alexander the great, ptolemy, the hellanic masses, seluecids, maccabeans, hasmoeans and pompey the great, not all, but the noteworthy. across the divide, by arrowing thought were fought rallies of acumen and battles of wit and occasionally, a persipacious fire was lit. but there is one more player, to mention. apathy, the great hulking ****** who for want of gumption, and get up and go, sat crouched, (quite uncomfortably so) on a spire. made of mediocracy, cemented by woe, in the iddle of the rifted abyss. unable to decide with which team to go.
0
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 5:37 PM UTC
the tourney
if you drill down, past the hair, flesh and bone. into my mind where the ego and id  reside. then turn to the left, and follow the i.q. down the alley, you will find a place. where on thrones of cogitating thoughts, king big questions asked, reigns in conjunction, with, queen yet unanswered. they watch with interest benign, over a field of  an eternal tourney, split roughly down the middle by a chasm quite wide. on one side of the gorge is arrayed, the banners of philosophy. at the vanguard, the epistemological knights; plato, descartes, ferrier, kant, hume,spinoza and bosanquet. the major forces ride beneath the banners, of their schools of thought. followed by the lesser lights, and those, obscure or forgotten, who walk at the rear,carrying the gear and to set the tent poles. as to the other side, that is given to, the seminaries of religion; bhuddism, taoism, islam, hindu, juche, rastafarian, sikh, diasporic, parsis, tenrikyo, judaism and christianity with all its clans. they array themselves in cadres, according to belief. and to the rear, there rides, an interesting guerilla band, of intertestemantals, about 3 or 4 hundred years wide. these are the few who are  accounted for, when god spoke nothing, or perhaps a lot but the message just got lost. they number in their disparate clan, alexander the great, ptolemy, the hellanic masses, seluecids, maccabeans, hasmoeans and pompey the great, not all, but the noteworthy. across the divide, by arrowing thought were fought rallies of acumen and battles of wit and occasionally, a persipacious fire was lit. but there is one more player, to mention. apathy, the great hulking ****** who for want of gumption, and get up and go, sat crouched, (quite uncomfortably so) on a spire. made of mediocracy, cemented by woe, in the iddle of the rifted abyss. unable to decide with which team to go.
Continue reading...
76
Rain-diamonds, this winter morning, embellish the tangle of unpruned pear-tree twigs; each solitaire, placed, it appearrs, with considered judgement, bears the light beneath the rifted clouds -- the indivisible shared out in endless abundance.
0
2.7k
Bearing the Light
Alexis calls me cruel; The rifted crags that hold The gathered ice of winter, He says, are not more cold. When even the very blossoms Around the fountain's brim, And forest walks, can witness The love I bear to him. I would that I could utter My feelings without shame; And tell him how I love him, Nor wrong my ****** fame. Alas! to seize the moment When heart inclines to heart, And press a suit with passion, Is not a woman's part. If man comes not to gather The roses where they stand, They fade among their foliage; They cannot seek his hand.
0
2.1k
Song (From The Spanish Of Iglesias)
Huge elm, with rifted trunk all notched and scarred, Like to a warrior’s destiny! I love To stretch me often on thy shadowed sward, And hear the laugh of summer leaves above; Or on thy buttressed roots to sit, and lean In careless attitude, and there reflect On times and deeds and darings that have been— Old castaways, now swallowed in neglect,— While thou art towering in thy strength of heart, Stirring the soul to vain imaginings In which life’s sordid being hath no part. The wind of that eternal ditty sings, Humming of future things, that burn the mind To leave some fragment of itself behind.
0
1.9k
The Shepherd’s Tree
Think That I'm inclined Think me blind Do you? Think me only your child Think of the last time you truly smiled at me Think of the time when I came to you with trust Now all that you've made between us is rust Think Me naive Think me to believe You're the only one right Think me only young Think of last night and your words that stung Think of the night when I came to you with hope Now all that you've made is us fail to cope But perhaps this is what you think of me? I rifted our family But all I want is for you to know That your words can be painful So that you might change them them & their tone I just want you to love your daughter The way you used to do When I knew...
0
Feb 20, 2012
Feb 20, 2012 at 12:18 AM UTC
I'm telling the truth & you don't believe me.
sheen spreads from light blue paranoia—a rainbow, tough magical, slippery, and krilled to enter all but my mouth would seem ungrateful rain, lighthouse, big money, and the shade of fish approaching the rope now shredded, wet braids to loosen and snap swatched opal peeping, peering, ripping larger with the rifted water and so goes slicing red
0
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 11:54 AM UTC
broken glass
Although a being, But of different country. Rifted between by language, Yet connected through unified heart. Sharing smiles and cries, Fighting stress and depression. Together we have been, Through thick and thin. Thank you for all the times And accompaint you have been.
0
May 21, 2019
May 21, 2019 at 11:49 AM UTC
Thank You
doing things that bring joy and sing in a soul sounds, like laughter from a child's first chuckle heals wounds in a tired rifted heart, no more tolls to be paid, no trolls to slay, oh but some buckle Under the load juggle thoughts of what to do, while doing nothing, makes stew and the juices, bitter tasting as they simmer with too much heat pieces of another's life, pursuits that sound good but don't get, To Do knowing not how to get the words out, eating uncooked raw meat To Feed the Soul
0
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 11:18 PM UTC
Feed Your Soul
Dry, cracked, fractured. Broken, barren, fissured. Raptured, sliced, split. Rifted, carved, slit. Cut, torn, weathered. Slashed, hacked, severed. Chopped, gashed, ripped. Gouged, lanced, clipped.
0
May 12, 2017
May 12, 2017 at 4:56 PM UTC
My mind