"skye" poems - Hello Poetry

In the vapor of our first breath we learned how to lie In the vapor of our last breath we learned how to die In the vapor of the 'in between Earth meets Skye

0

Apr 26, 2015

Apr 26, 2015 at 10:56 PM UTC

leo-abramson

Earth Meets Skye

In the vapor of our first breath we learned how to lie In the vapor of our last breath we learned how to die In the vapor of the 'in between Earth meets Skye

6

Gotta take a ‘selfie’ before I’m outta bed Mum calls me down for breaky - Open Facebook up instead My sister dobs me in – I tell her to take a hike Quick up load the photo, and hope I getta ‘like’. Gotta take a ‘selfie’, gotta getta ‘like’ Dad says it isn’t healthy, my sister says I’m ‘psych’ Take my Ipad into class, gotta get the high score English teachers raving – But poetry’s a bore She catches me on ‘chat room’ and takes away my phone Beg my friend for last year’s modal, I gotta getta loan. Gotta take a ‘selfie’, gotta getta ‘like’ Dad says I should get healthy- I take a gopro on my bike Grumble to my parents – Life just isn’t fair I haven’t got my Iphone and no one wants to share Mum doesn’t want to hear it, she has no sympathy Just as well there’s X-box, and by Mp3 Gotta take a ‘selfie’, gotta getta ‘like’ Don’t tell me to think healthy, I think my brain’s on strike.

0

Jun 22, 2015

Jun 22, 2015 at 7:32 PM UTC

Seriassly

'Gotta Take A Selfie' - by Azura Skye

Gotta take a ‘selfie’ before I’m outta bed Mum calls me down for breaky - Open Facebook up instead My sister dobs me in – I tell her to take a hike Quick up load the photo, and hope I getta ‘like’. Gotta take a ‘selfie’, gotta getta ‘like’ Dad says it isn’t healthy, my sister says I’m ‘psych’ Take my Ipad into class, gotta get the high score English teachers raving – But poetry’s a bore She catches me on ‘chat room’ and takes away my phone Beg my friend for last year’s modal, I gotta getta loan. Gotta take a ‘selfie’, gotta getta ‘like’ Dad says I should get healthy- I take a gopro on my bike Grumble to my parents – Life just isn’t fair I haven’t got my Iphone and no one wants to share Mum doesn’t want to hear it, she has no sympathy Just as well there’s X-box, and by Mp3 Gotta take a ‘selfie’, gotta getta ‘like’ Don’t tell me to think healthy, I think my brain’s on strike.

18

Crystal white, ice cold, I'm blood hot Running bold Mistress sweet calls once again To quench the fire within my brain Crystal white, vice hold My Blood forgot Ice cold Mistress heats the only pain That builds the fire within my brain Kissed the night, twice old Blood clots The cards fold Mistress cheat pulls on the chain The funeral pyre within my brain Pistol fight, price told Bloodied shot running cold terror street screams once again The voice of ghosts of Mistress slain.

0

Nov 19, 2015

Nov 19, 2015 at 5:53 PM UTC

Seriassly

Crystal White - by Azura Skye

Crystal white, ice cold, I'm blood hot Running bold Mistress sweet calls once again To quench the fire within my brain Crystal white, vice hold My Blood forgot Ice cold Mistress heats the only pain That builds the fire within my brain Kissed the night, twice old Blood clots The cards fold Mistress cheat pulls on the chain The funeral pyre within my brain Pistol fight, price told Bloodied shot running cold terror street screams once again The voice of ghosts of Mistress slain.

20

I didn't know you were a piano player. This fact only came up while my palms burned with anticipation as I reached out into the stillness, searching for your hands. I found them beneath sheets and cold promises, where the fingers were dancing and the nails were scratching and you were looking to have a good time. You're good at playing the blues. A man by the name of Skye told me you knew all about snatching secrets from the moon, and as I felt the scars and scratches along your callous, quick fingers, I knew this was true. Your eyes never looked down at what you played, which is probably how they ended up this way: scarred and burned and stained a dark red. I never found out why you liked to play music so dark that it did nothing but leave bruises, ones you tried to wash away with old wash cloths and chardonnay. Or why your nickname was ***** even though your mother named you Vivian. Or why you sold me those tickets to that band you dreamed of seeing. Or why your hands started shaking whenever you were near me. Or why I'm in love with your fingers, and all the notes they've played and touched and stole. I don't mind the fact that their skin is burdened with slices of depressed, quiet peace, or the way your eyes turn blue even though they're supposed to be green. I can only hope in the wake of all these sad revelations, that your fingers will remain on those black and white keys, and tomorrow you'll still be playing.

0

Apr 14, 2014

Apr 14, 2014 at 9:21 AM UTC

Enigmuse

fingers stained with finesse

I didn't know you were a piano player. This fact only came up while my palms burned with anticipation as I reached out into the stillness, searching for your hands. I found them beneath sheets and cold promises, where the fingers were dancing and the nails were scratching and you were looking to have a good time. You're good at playing the blues. A man by the name of Skye told me you knew all about snatching secrets from the moon, and as I felt the scars and scratches along your callous, quick fingers, I knew this was true. Your eyes never looked down at what you played, which is probably how they ended up this way: scarred and burned and stained a dark red. I never found out why you liked to play music so dark that it did nothing but leave bruises, ones you tried to wash away with old wash cloths and chardonnay. Or why your nickname was ***** even though your mother named you Vivian. Or why you sold me those tickets to that band you dreamed of seeing. Or why your hands started shaking whenever you were near me. Or why I'm in love with your fingers, and all the notes they've played and touched and stole. I don't mind the fact that their skin is burdened with slices of depressed, quiet peace, or the way your eyes turn blue even though they're supposed to be green. I can only hope in the wake of all these sad revelations, that your fingers will remain on those black and white keys, and tomorrow you'll still be playing.

21

A Lone Walker nowe Ah! Intae Theis Murky Naycht ‘Yont Whin-Rock menacin’, Ewry Wound bygane an’ the Scar Freish Bluid o’ mine fuelin’, Lang, lang, IT! the Blacklyn Howr, Unfathomable, Unearthly, Verra Guid Fyre wearin’, Burnan Hye! Gore o’ mine Awa, awa, IT owre spilled! Soil o’ Alabaster gravin’, An’ abön, Great Orrah! a Presence yirr, Near-hand ay flashin’, Rumblin’, guid tremblin’, Lyke a Rhodium-Demon Hyear Unco! stick-an-stowe towerin’, An’ a Mirror-Vision ay broo! O’ Red Gore fuil an’ pruid! Great Rowth ragin’! Human nae, nae IT laanger! Heyne intae Theis Skye-Mirror, Image o’ mine! nae, nae IT laanger! Ma Rubye Brooch Micht, och! Stylle haiwin', An' wae Veins o’ Deep Lowe imbued, Ma ain stylle! Glamis’ Orrah! Dearest! Athwart ma Solitarye Gait Ays a Storm-Blast fallin’, An’ wnto me! wnto me noo, IT! O’er an’ o’er! Carham’s Scyld-Hel Orrah! Stylle Theis Dangerus! Verra Dangerus, IT! Highlan’ Thwndir-Rode o’ mine Intae Theis Guid Kintra whooshin’, An’ the nae ****** Cauld Landis Micht, Swaird-Wounded, stylle Ironclad Ah! Fore’er unco! wi’in Oun Hye Fyre Thro’ nae croud strollin’, Ays yf frae Hye Þunor His-sel The Lone War-Whisper Weel-Gaun! Wae Thae Verra Woirds o’ Battle-Angyr Lewdlie! Theis Specular Bluish Fyre o’ mine! Thus Thwndir-Taukin’: NUNC IN HOC SIGNO VINCES QUIA FOCUS TEMPESTATIS MODO EST TIBI ET VEXILLA FULMINIS PRODEUNT UNIVERSI IN FERRO CAERULEO SANGUINEQUE AD TE PICTORUM NOCTE TETRA ET IN SPECULO RESULTANTE FORMA THOR GOTHORUM UBI DESCENDET LAETO AB ULTIMA GLITNIR MAGNO MALLEO DEUS FLAVUS QUI ALTO FERRO SECURIQUE TONITRUO INDIGNAM VIAM MALEDIXIT FULMINIS IGITUR TETRA UMBRA TUA ALTA FLAMMA CALIGINEA VEXILLAQUE SUPREMO IGNE OVERMAN ULTOR.

0

Jan 23, 2021

Jan 23, 2021 at 6:54 AM UTC

hermes-varini

Lone Walker

A Lone Walker nowe Ah! Intae Theis Murky Naycht ‘Yont Whin-Rock menacin’, Ewry Wound bygane an’ the Scar Freish Bluid o’ mine fuelin’, Lang, lang, IT! the Blacklyn Howr, Unfathomable, Unearthly, Verra Guid Fyre wearin’, Burnan Hye! Gore o’ mine Awa, awa, IT owre spilled! Soil o’ Alabaster gravin’, An’ abön, Great Orrah! a Presence yirr, Near-hand ay flashin’, Rumblin’, guid tremblin’, Lyke a Rhodium-Demon Hyear Unco! stick-an-stowe towerin’, An’ a Mirror-Vision ay broo! O’ Red Gore fuil an’ pruid! Great Rowth ragin’! Human nae, nae IT laanger! Heyne intae Theis Skye-Mirror, Image o’ mine! nae, nae IT laanger! Ma Rubye Brooch Micht, och! Stylle haiwin', An' wae Veins o’ Deep Lowe imbued, Ma ain stylle! Glamis’ Orrah! Dearest! Athwart ma Solitarye Gait Ays a Storm-Blast fallin’, An’ wnto me! wnto me noo, IT! O’er an’ o’er! Carham’s Scyld-Hel Orrah! Stylle Theis Dangerus! Verra Dangerus, IT! Highlan’ Thwndir-Rode o’ mine Intae Theis Guid Kintra whooshin’, An’ the nae ****** Cauld Landis Micht, Swaird-Wounded, stylle Ironclad Ah! Fore’er unco! wi’in Oun Hye Fyre Thro’ nae croud strollin’, Ays yf frae Hye Þunor His-sel The Lone War-Whisper Weel-Gaun! Wae Thae Verra Woirds o’ Battle-Angyr Lewdlie! Theis Specular Bluish Fyre o’ mine! Thus Thwndir-Taukin’: NUNC IN HOC SIGNO VINCES QUIA FOCUS TEMPESTATIS MODO EST TIBI ET VEXILLA FULMINIS PRODEUNT UNIVERSI IN FERRO CAERULEO SANGUINEQUE AD TE PICTORUM NOCTE TETRA ET IN SPECULO RESULTANTE FORMA THOR GOTHORUM UBI DESCENDET LAETO AB ULTIMA GLITNIR MAGNO MALLEO DEUS FLAVUS QUI ALTO FERRO SECURIQUE TONITRUO INDIGNAM VIAM MALEDIXIT FULMINIS IGITUR TETRA UMBRA TUA ALTA FLAMMA CALIGINEA VEXILLAQUE SUPREMO IGNE OVERMAN ULTOR.

55