"rythmatically" poems - Hello Poetry

It's currently 4am, the time when words like night and morning are mistaken... for it is both, yet neither. tired moths fly rythmatically into the bug zapper. souls escaping their bodies, stale light absorbing their souls. their bodies fall painting meaningless obscenities in the smoke left behind. corpses covered by dirt... the grass weeps for thee. bodies hallow lifeless... empty I am empty... void of social dependence, but full of understanding. understanding my pulse is still rapid. if only I were tired what an overlooked luxury?

0

Mar 4, 2014

Mar 4, 2014 at 9:55 PM UTC

Shino

4am

It's currently 4am, the time when words like night and morning are mistaken... for it is both, yet neither. tired moths fly rythmatically into the bug zapper. souls escaping their bodies, stale light absorbing their souls. their bodies fall painting meaningless obscenities in the smoke left behind. corpses covered by dirt... the grass weeps for thee. bodies hallow lifeless... empty I am empty... void of social dependence, but full of understanding. understanding my pulse is still rapid. if only I were tired what an overlooked luxury?

29

It's currently 4am, the time when words like night and morning are mistaken... for it is both, yet neither. tired moths fly rythmatically into the bug zapper. souls escaping their bodies, stale light absorbing their souls. their bodies fall painting meaningless obscenities in the smoke left behind. corpses covered by dirt... the grass weeps for thee. bodies hallow lifeless... empty I am empty... void of social dependence, but full of understanding. understanding my pulse is still rapid. if only I were tired what an overlooked luxury?

0

Mar 4, 2014

Mar 4, 2014 at 11:12 PM UTC

sheeno-rankin

4am

It's currently 4am, the time when words like night and morning are mistaken... for it is both, yet neither. tired moths fly rythmatically into the bug zapper. souls escaping their bodies, stale light absorbing their souls. their bodies fall painting meaningless obscenities in the smoke left behind. corpses covered by dirt... the grass weeps for thee. bodies hallow lifeless... empty I am empty... void of social dependence, but full of understanding. understanding my pulse is still rapid. if only I were tired what an overlooked luxury?

29

Prickly morning sun strings up the hair on her arms as she gazes, watching the waves bobble and weave and listening to their dead seashells and shellfish; ricketing and momentarily floating. For a moment, her heart is the ocean. Always beating and providing life without knowing why. She sighs and begins to forget she is lost-- The synthetic shores of everyday life at her backfoot, the burning sand ridden with childhood memories. She slowly allows it to dissapear and recaptures a piece of her self in return; Belonging to this ocean as much she does the sky it reflects. Calling, lamenting her name without a word, the ocean lullabies her soothing sighs, falling rythmatically now-- Raindrops disinter the clouds and tickle the rythm of her pulse. Soft, soft backing instrument to her final calling. There is no need to look around again; There is no guard in sight. The prickly sunshine fades To ruthless cold air and she walks forward, mouth agape and ready For the ocean to swallow her and recapture her, entombed, enwombed forever more.

0

Oct 18, 2019

Oct 18, 2019 at 1:58 AM UTC

LilRimbaud99

A whole ocean reflected in a falling raindrop

Prickly morning sun strings up the hair on her arms as she gazes, watching the waves bobble and weave and listening to their dead seashells and shellfish; ricketing and momentarily floating. For a moment, her heart is the ocean. Always beating and providing life without knowing why. She sighs and begins to forget she is lost-- The synthetic shores of everyday life at her backfoot, the burning sand ridden with childhood memories. She slowly allows it to dissapear and recaptures a piece of her self in return; Belonging to this ocean as much she does the sky it reflects. Calling, lamenting her name without a word, the ocean lullabies her soothing sighs, falling rythmatically now-- Raindrops disinter the clouds and tickle the rythm of her pulse. Soft, soft backing instrument to her final calling. There is no need to look around again; There is no guard in sight. The prickly sunshine fades To ruthless cold air and she walks forward, mouth agape and ready For the ocean to swallow her and recapture her, entombed, enwombed forever more.

24