"smatterings" poems - Hello Poetry

the Silence became like an old lesson learned a broken heart intones a voiceless song resonating a refrain of Silent echoes in a voice that never heard a word yet spoke so clearly ... lingering in realms of subtle ambiance soundless remnants stacked neatly as building blocks; another brick in a wall, already too tall to see beyond— growing like a bunker without a sense of safe harbor as the Silence became time and space, a stillness beset the melancholy air as if a world without song foreboding an unpredictable storm beget vestiges of broken windfall, reticent leftovers hushed after a gale s i l e n t l y an acorn fallen — became a mighty Oak a wind-broke twig — became a weeping willow a neglected child — became mother nature's son the Silence became a blind prophet — in its voice held forth smatterings of truth and undertones of an unrequited fool’s hope the Silence became a strong, abrupt rush of wind uttering voiceless exhalations of breath; a hovering dawn mist befallen after a summer storm— surrounding all in all bedewed in a feigned peace ... the unabated sounds of silence become Jesse Stillwater ... July 20th, 2018

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Jul 28, 2018

Jul 28, 2018 at 11:44 AM UTC

jesse-stillwater

the Silence became

the Silence became like an old lesson learned a broken heart intones a voiceless song resonating a refrain of Silent echoes in a voice that never heard a word yet spoke so clearly ... lingering in realms of subtle ambiance soundless remnants stacked neatly as building blocks; another brick in a wall, already too tall to see beyond— growing like a bunker without a sense of safe harbor as the Silence became time and space, a stillness beset the melancholy air as if a world without song foreboding an unpredictable storm beget vestiges of broken windfall, reticent leftovers hushed after a gale s i l e n t l y an acorn fallen — became a mighty Oak a wind-broke twig — became a weeping willow a neglected child — became mother nature's son the Silence became a blind prophet — in its voice held forth smatterings of truth and undertones of an unrequited fool’s hope the Silence became a strong, abrupt rush of wind uttering voiceless exhalations of breath; a hovering dawn mist befallen after a summer storm— surrounding all in all bedewed in a feigned peace ... the unabated sounds of silence become Jesse Stillwater ... July 20th, 2018

42

I'm Outstanding in a field While out standing in a field ....with these teachers C̵͍̞̓̄r̸̛͖̣͙̋̀ë̵̝͔́ä̶͎͕͉̈́t̶̢̠̍ͅǔ̵̹̠̖̊͠r̴̜̙̗̊̀e̷̡̢̜̕s̵͖͚̒̿ and prophets You'd think its an easy hike, but its more seagoing I see, means my ego pre-going: Just Color coding as another motif to talk with No Shovel loading this buffer coating some mock spit Of Sirrus winds and summer loving... Was it other living or utter loathing? No component, Native I'm Buffaloing Icarus took the fire and I took the flowin We've got the water ̶̧̧̼̖͙͔̹̻͕͖̠̤̓͊̆͋̐̓͂̄̊̚̕͠r̵͍͔̮͒̿̎́̊̈́͝ ũ̸͖͇̟̯̅̌̈́̕͠ n̵̲̤̙̜̑̑̽͑ n̵̡̺̪͎̯̫͐́̉͜͜ ì̷̺͍̹́̓̈́ ṉ̸̣̪͓̗̤́̈̊̈́̀ g̵͓̲̺̙̘̤̞̦̺̥̓͋̈̇͌̈́̃́͂̍͝ Is it fear or love? Got the mother-loving is it dear or turtle-dove? Talking in terms of inhaling foxglove Stuck in the mud asking: What's the size of.... What are we in the Light of? Still: Growing like a d̶̰̊̿̈́̓̿̿̑̈́͆̈̅̕a̵̻̤̒̅͛̿̀̎͘i̷͎̜̰̯͆̏̚s̵̡̢̼̺̬̬̖͚̦͍̠͑̀̀̃̀͌́͛̈́̌͝ȳ̴̞͖͓̝̥̭̥̖̑͋̔̎̀͗͘ ̸̢̪͍̠͕̩̥̒̍̓͋̈̐͊̂̎̓͝ ̵̡͇̳̦̦̥̰̝̐͐͌̐̓͐̈̏̀͘̕ ̶̡̨̟̼̺̺̝͇̍̀̓̓̏͌́͗̓̂͆͠ Growing like my Day Be more than Dimebag lately Growling like I'm Day Z̶̯̲̹̠̙̊̏́͗̿̎̅͗͐̿̃ Standing tall // Just Massing Nation Is it all in my Imagination? Fountain passion Claim free Mountain Fashioned hazily Passion Painting with Green Sea Ripples passing freely through the sword I be puffin on a horn like G̶̹͎̓̄̃͛͂͐͐a̵̻͕͔̯̹̿̕͝b̶̧̛͔̙͙̰̭̯̥̩̉̅̅̿̂̃r̴̝̞͎͂͗̈ĭ̴̘̈́̄̽̃͂̑́̈́͘͠ȩ̷̞̹̮̃̑̌͛̂́̀͝ḷ̶̢̡̭̫͉̬͇̀͜ ̸͚̳̘̜̫̱͖͂̇̓̈́̂̽͂̀̒ (Pfu du duu do duuuu) Tougher than.... ~imagining_ All the rougher when we matching wings Most people here ~just gather things_ Always stuffing torn like here we go: (̷̛̰̼͕̰͊̂͆̿̅̀͝F̴̧̛͎͎̹͕̬͔͉̃͆̄̎͛̈͋͆̓̇͝ͅū̸̪͎̦̻͕̼͉̼͇̤̄̀̏̓̅͗͌ ̸̧͚̝̟͎̺̝̱͉̓͝ḑ̷̧̰̞̪̥͊̈̑̑̔͋͐͜͝͝ų̵̢̮̙͙̭̫̤̤̖̽̄̈́̀͒̅̀̕͜͝͠ ̷̨̨̥̩̘̱̘̓̉̈̈͌̃͊́̾̚͘d̷̺͛͂̏͑̂͛̊͛͘͝u̷̧͉̹̟͎͉̎̓̎̌ú̵̢̪̺̱̥͆̅́̄̈́̈̚͝ ̷̨̝̥̫̣̻͚̍̍͊͛͌̃͌̀̆̃̚͜͠ḑ̵̡̛͚͚̩͓̼̲͇̮͑̃̅͗̿̓͐͝ͅõ̵̢̰͎̹̥̫̺͍̎́͌̓ ̵͚̺̼͇͔̻̫͇̤̆̔͛͐͆̀̚͝ḑ̴̻̪̉̍͌̽̿̚̚̚ͅư̶̛̘͔̹̰̈́͒͑̍͐̎̈̈́̒͜û̶̬̮̙͍̺̬̯̻͚̺͌̂̌ͅu̴̞̫͓̭̮̽̽͌̊̄̃̔̎̃͘͠͠ŭ̷͎̎̉̆̈́̚͠)̷͖͔͔̤̗̋͛͜ Come and tumble Hear how can it sing... All the colors, Smatterings Can't muck with my energy Mastered the art of astral projection Grinding rice with mortar and pestle Just to Vortex the best view Motor no next to you Torn from the best of true R̶̯̞͕̭͠͝e̴̳̗̍͒ͅä̷͎̬́̀̋̂̕l̴̼͇̗̈́̿̈ỉ̶̙͔̤̓t̵̩͚͎̥͕͓̍̏̌̉ẏ̸̫͌ worn for the rest of you. Rolling free with no potent fees Taking liberties with the energies Got the water ̶̧̧̼̖͙͔̹̻͕͖̠̤̓͊̆͋̐̓͂̄̊̚̕͠r̵͍͔̮͒̿̎́̊̈́͝R ũ̸͖͇̟̯̅̌̈́̕͠ Un̵̲̤̙̜̑̑̽͑ Nn̵̡̺̪͎̯̫͐́̉͜͜ Nì̷̺͍̹́̓̈́ Nṉ̸̣̪͓̗̤́̈̊̈́̀Gg̵͓̲̺̙̘̤̞̦̺̥̓͋̈̇͌̈́̃́͂̍͝ Is it fear or love? Got the mother-loving is it dear or dote? More like do or don't. Floating on the shore like: Heeere we go. Blowing on a horn with Gabriel : (̴̨̳̙͕̲̤̮͕̖̅͐̄̍͒́̎̋̌̈́̾͑̆͑̊̿̃̓͛̓̒͘͜͝F̴̧̢̨̹͎̖̼̝͚̤̥̖̰̭͕̳̖̩̘̜̝̩̟̠̩̝̘̰͎̜̮͖̓̏̾̔̉͗̈́̕͝ͅͅ ȗ̶̡̳͕̘̲̜̳͖͉͇̮̟̪̬̜̜̩̥̻̝̭͓̥̍̍͂̈͆̉͗̎̈́͗̓́̑͊̋́͗̿͐̍̏̋̓̓͊̿̚͠ ̷̢̧̹͙̫̜̝̲͖̹̪͓̲̫̟̹͎̖̦̝̳̙͎͍͍̱̳̼̗͎̻͖̰̘̻͈̲͌̏̐̽̀̉̇̒͗́͑́͑͐̈͌̿͐̍̒̒̌̀̈͑̃̅͋̌͛͂̔́̀̍́̎̅̚̚͘͝ͅͅḑ̶̧̢͇͎͖̝̠͈͍̫̰̝̯͔͉̝͓͚̭͖̻͓̗̬̺̞̖͈̜͍̹̜̺̩͈̃̎̀̂͂́̀͂̄̐̍̆̈́́̈́̈̏̈́̉̿͒͋̈́̓̾̍̆̍̈͊͂̐̒̀̚͜͝͝͝͝ û̷͚̻̟̰͈̒̊͒̀̿̾͋̒͌̊̾̇̉́͆̅͒̈́̈̾̓̑͗̃̈́̓̄̀́́̽͗͘̚̕͘͝ ̵̡̢̢̡̢̘͍͉͕̠̮̤̗̻͈̯͙̲̳͎̪̹̗͓͈̟͕͇̃͒̋͒͒̉͊̎̂̽̋͋̈̀͊̅̔̒͐̋́͐̏͑͋͌͛̇͛̓̄̄̍͐ͅd̸͔͕̞̪̝̖̩͂̂̎̀͐͒̿͘ư̶̡̩͙͇̥͈͔̮̟͕̺͙̈̅̽̍̒͌͛͑͋̉̿̎̂̿́̈́̊͗̄̔̎̏̑̂̔̊̈́̕͝ͅ ư̸̧̡̼͈̲̰͓̹̗̩͓͙̹̯̹͊͐̒̾̆́̍̒̓͑̍̈́͆̉̀͘ ̷̢̧̺̩͕̟̙̳̜̩̗͔̻͕͈̥͈͖̩͇͈̠͉̩̈́̃̌̈́͌̇͂̓̐̇̍̏́̋̔͂̈́́̒̽́̓̓̚͜͜͝͠͝ d̷͔̮͓͖̉ ờ̷̧̨̡̛̛͓̗͉̪͖̼̜̬̜̦͎̻̙̖̣̠͈̳͊́̈́͊͋͊̉̈͒̔̐̄̌̎̀̈́̊̋̉̏̒̑͗͋̓̔̉̓̋͒̇͘͘͝͝͠͠ͅ ̷̳̦͙͙̤̺̜̥̖̬̮̰͈̣̗̙̮̬̈́̈́̾̂͆̓̈́ͅͅ d̵̛̳͈̗̋͊̓̒̅̿́͗́̒̂̈́̌͋̄̀́̌̄̈́͛͋̊̎̈́̓̉̕͠͝͝͠͝͠ư̵̘͚͔̫̮̭̖̱̞͔̦̩̹̱̺̺̝̬͖̜̼̬̮͎͚̪̼̯̫̳̜̙͓̥͎̳̥̻̾͆̄̋̅̂̃͒͛̿̐͒̿̊̌̓̈̅̃̒̈̈́̎̿̓̕͘͜͝͝͠͝͝ ư̴̡̧̢̧̦̭͍̮̜͓̫̪͇̖̤͙̻̮͉̭̯̙̞̥̗̱̩̞̞̼̟̱̟̦͚̼̲̼͚͈̈́͆̏͆̌̉̀͛͆͐͛̇̇̍̓̔̄͂͌̿̒̄́̌̕̚̕̕̕͝͝ ų̵̧̛͉̺̜͎̜̩͖̲̟͔̬̦̤̖͎̫͔͖̮͕̗̼͙̫̼̭̦͕̫͖͉̆͐̾̑͂͋͂̎̊͗̈́̂̕͘͜͝ͅͅ ư̶̛͙̠͆̓̃̀̍̄̔̄̇͗̀́̐́̌͂̋̑̏̄̑̕͠͠͝͝͝)̵̨̡̧̛̛̙͚̪̬̤͕̥̳̥̱̞̺͎̫̩͌́̈́̑̂̌̈͐͐͊̈́̇͐̍͒̓̓̀͐̃̆͐̓̍̀̐̃͑̕̕̕̕͝͝

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Oct 27, 2021

Oct 27, 2021 at 1:12 PM UTC

Im

(-)en-erg-es(Z)

I'm Outstanding in a field While out standing in a field ....with these teachers C̵͍̞̓̄r̸̛͖̣͙̋̀ë̵̝͔́ä̶͎͕͉̈́t̶̢̠̍ͅǔ̵̹̠̖̊͠r̴̜̙̗̊̀e̷̡̢̜̕s̵͖͚̒̿ and prophets You'd think its an easy hike, but its more seagoing I see, means my ego pre-going: Just Color coding as another motif to talk with No Shovel loading this buffer coating some mock spit Of Sirrus winds and summer loving... Was it other living or utter loathing? No component, Native I'm Buffaloing Icarus took the fire and I took the flowin We've got the water ̶̧̧̼̖͙͔̹̻͕͖̠̤̓͊̆͋̐̓͂̄̊̚̕͠r̵͍͔̮͒̿̎́̊̈́͝ ũ̸͖͇̟̯̅̌̈́̕͠ n̵̲̤̙̜̑̑̽͑ n̵̡̺̪͎̯̫͐́̉͜͜ ì̷̺͍̹́̓̈́ ṉ̸̣̪͓̗̤́̈̊̈́̀ g̵͓̲̺̙̘̤̞̦̺̥̓͋̈̇͌̈́̃́͂̍͝ Is it fear or love? Got the mother-loving is it dear or turtle-dove? Talking in terms of inhaling foxglove Stuck in the mud asking: What's the size of.... What are we in the Light of? Still: Growing like a d̶̰̊̿̈́̓̿̿̑̈́͆̈̅̕a̵̻̤̒̅͛̿̀̎͘i̷͎̜̰̯͆̏̚s̵̡̢̼̺̬̬̖͚̦͍̠͑̀̀̃̀͌́͛̈́̌͝ȳ̴̞͖͓̝̥̭̥̖̑͋̔̎̀͗͘ ̸̢̪͍̠͕̩̥̒̍̓͋̈̐͊̂̎̓͝ ̵̡͇̳̦̦̥̰̝̐͐͌̐̓͐̈̏̀͘̕ ̶̡̨̟̼̺̺̝͇̍̀̓̓̏͌́͗̓̂͆͠ Growing like my Day Be more than Dimebag lately Growling like I'm Day Z̶̯̲̹̠̙̊̏́͗̿̎̅͗͐̿̃ Standing tall // Just Massing Nation Is it all in my Imagination? Fountain passion Claim free Mountain Fashioned hazily Passion Painting with Green Sea Ripples passing freely through the sword I be puffin on a horn like G̶̹͎̓̄̃͛͂͐͐a̵̻͕͔̯̹̿̕͝b̶̧̛͔̙͙̰̭̯̥̩̉̅̅̿̂̃r̴̝̞͎͂͗̈ĭ̴̘̈́̄̽̃͂̑́̈́͘͠ȩ̷̞̹̮̃̑̌͛̂́̀͝ḷ̶̢̡̭̫͉̬͇̀͜ ̸͚̳̘̜̫̱͖͂̇̓̈́̂̽͂̀̒ (Pfu du duu do duuuu) Tougher than.... ~imagining_ All the rougher when we matching wings Most people here ~just gather things_ Always stuffing torn like here we go: (̷̛̰̼͕̰͊̂͆̿̅̀͝F̴̧̛͎͎̹͕̬͔͉̃͆̄̎͛̈͋͆̓̇͝ͅū̸̪͎̦̻͕̼͉̼͇̤̄̀̏̓̅͗͌ ̸̧͚̝̟͎̺̝̱͉̓͝ḑ̷̧̰̞̪̥͊̈̑̑̔͋͐͜͝͝ų̵̢̮̙͙̭̫̤̤̖̽̄̈́̀͒̅̀̕͜͝͠ ̷̨̨̥̩̘̱̘̓̉̈̈͌̃͊́̾̚͘d̷̺͛͂̏͑̂͛̊͛͘͝u̷̧͉̹̟͎͉̎̓̎̌ú̵̢̪̺̱̥͆̅́̄̈́̈̚͝ ̷̨̝̥̫̣̻͚̍̍͊͛͌̃͌̀̆̃̚͜͠ḑ̵̡̛͚͚̩͓̼̲͇̮͑̃̅͗̿̓͐͝ͅõ̵̢̰͎̹̥̫̺͍̎́͌̓ ̵͚̺̼͇͔̻̫͇̤̆̔͛͐͆̀̚͝ḑ̴̻̪̉̍͌̽̿̚̚̚ͅư̶̛̘͔̹̰̈́͒͑̍͐̎̈̈́̒͜û̶̬̮̙͍̺̬̯̻͚̺͌̂̌ͅu̴̞̫͓̭̮̽̽͌̊̄̃̔̎̃͘͠͠ŭ̷͎̎̉̆̈́̚͠)̷͖͔͔̤̗̋͛͜ Come and tumble Hear how can it sing... All the colors, Smatterings Can't muck with my energy Mastered the art of astral projection Grinding rice with mortar and pestle Just to Vortex the best view Motor no next to you Torn from the best of true R̶̯̞͕̭͠͝e̴̳̗̍͒ͅä̷͎̬́̀̋̂̕l̴̼͇̗̈́̿̈ỉ̶̙͔̤̓t̵̩͚͎̥͕͓̍̏̌̉ẏ̸̫͌ worn for the rest of you. Rolling free with no potent fees Taking liberties with the energies Got the water ̶̧̧̼̖͙͔̹̻͕͖̠̤̓͊̆͋̐̓͂̄̊̚̕͠r̵͍͔̮͒̿̎́̊̈́͝R ũ̸͖͇̟̯̅̌̈́̕͠ Un̵̲̤̙̜̑̑̽͑ Nn̵̡̺̪͎̯̫͐́̉͜͜ Nì̷̺͍̹́̓̈́ Nṉ̸̣̪͓̗̤́̈̊̈́̀Gg̵͓̲̺̙̘̤̞̦̺̥̓͋̈̇͌̈́̃́͂̍͝ Is it fear or love? Got the mother-loving is it dear or dote? More like do or don't. Floating on the shore like: Heeere we go. Blowing on a horn with Gabriel : (̴̨̳̙͕̲̤̮͕̖̅͐̄̍͒́̎̋̌̈́̾͑̆͑̊̿̃̓͛̓̒͘͜͝F̴̧̢̨̹͎̖̼̝͚̤̥̖̰̭͕̳̖̩̘̜̝̩̟̠̩̝̘̰͎̜̮͖̓̏̾̔̉͗̈́̕͝ͅͅ ȗ̶̡̳͕̘̲̜̳͖͉͇̮̟̪̬̜̜̩̥̻̝̭͓̥̍̍͂̈͆̉͗̎̈́͗̓́̑͊̋́͗̿͐̍̏̋̓̓͊̿̚͠ ̷̢̧̹͙̫̜̝̲͖̹̪͓̲̫̟̹͎̖̦̝̳̙͎͍͍̱̳̼̗͎̻͖̰̘̻͈̲͌̏̐̽̀̉̇̒͗́͑́͑͐̈͌̿͐̍̒̒̌̀̈͑̃̅͋̌͛͂̔́̀̍́̎̅̚̚͘͝ͅͅḑ̶̧̢͇͎͖̝̠͈͍̫̰̝̯͔͉̝͓͚̭͖̻͓̗̬̺̞̖͈̜͍̹̜̺̩͈̃̎̀̂͂́̀͂̄̐̍̆̈́́̈́̈̏̈́̉̿͒͋̈́̓̾̍̆̍̈͊͂̐̒̀̚͜͝͝͝͝ û̷͚̻̟̰͈̒̊͒̀̿̾͋̒͌̊̾̇̉́͆̅͒̈́̈̾̓̑͗̃̈́̓̄̀́́̽͗͘̚̕͘͝ ̵̡̢̢̡̢̘͍͉͕̠̮̤̗̻͈̯͙̲̳͎̪̹̗͓͈̟͕͇̃͒̋͒͒̉͊̎̂̽̋͋̈̀͊̅̔̒͐̋́͐̏͑͋͌͛̇͛̓̄̄̍͐ͅd̸͔͕̞̪̝̖̩͂̂̎̀͐͒̿͘ư̶̡̩͙͇̥͈͔̮̟͕̺͙̈̅̽̍̒͌͛͑͋̉̿̎̂̿́̈́̊͗̄̔̎̏̑̂̔̊̈́̕͝ͅ ư̸̧̡̼͈̲̰͓̹̗̩͓͙̹̯̹͊͐̒̾̆́̍̒̓͑̍̈́͆̉̀͘ ̷̢̧̺̩͕̟̙̳̜̩̗͔̻͕͈̥͈͖̩͇͈̠͉̩̈́̃̌̈́͌̇͂̓̐̇̍̏́̋̔͂̈́́̒̽́̓̓̚͜͜͝͠͝ d̷͔̮͓͖̉ ờ̷̧̨̡̛̛͓̗͉̪͖̼̜̬̜̦͎̻̙̖̣̠͈̳͊́̈́͊͋͊̉̈͒̔̐̄̌̎̀̈́̊̋̉̏̒̑͗͋̓̔̉̓̋͒̇͘͘͝͝͠͠ͅ ̷̳̦͙͙̤̺̜̥̖̬̮̰͈̣̗̙̮̬̈́̈́̾̂͆̓̈́ͅͅ d̵̛̳͈̗̋͊̓̒̅̿́͗́̒̂̈́̌͋̄̀́̌̄̈́͛͋̊̎̈́̓̉̕͠͝͝͠͝͠ư̵̘͚͔̫̮̭̖̱̞͔̦̩̹̱̺̺̝̬͖̜̼̬̮͎͚̪̼̯̫̳̜̙͓̥͎̳̥̻̾͆̄̋̅̂̃͒͛̿̐͒̿̊̌̓̈̅̃̒̈̈́̎̿̓̕͘͜͝͝͠͝͝ ư̴̡̧̢̧̦̭͍̮̜͓̫̪͇̖̤͙̻̮͉̭̯̙̞̥̗̱̩̞̞̼̟̱̟̦͚̼̲̼͚͈̈́͆̏͆̌̉̀͛͆͐͛̇̇̍̓̔̄͂͌̿̒̄́̌̕̚̕̕̕͝͝ ų̵̧̛͉̺̜͎̜̩͖̲̟͔̬̦̤̖͎̫͔͖̮͕̗̼͙̫̼̭̦͕̫͖͉̆͐̾̑͂͋͂̎̊͗̈́̂̕͘͜͝ͅͅ ư̶̛͙̠͆̓̃̀̍̄̔̄̇͗̀́̐́̌͂̋̑̏̄̑̕͠͠͝͝͝)̵̨̡̧̛̛̙͚̪̬̤͕̥̳̥̱̞̺͎̫̩͌́̈́̑̂̌̈͐͐͊̈́̇͐̍͒̓̓̀͐̃̆͐̓̍̀̐̃͑̕̕̕̕͝͝

63

young men drinking young men not thinking this is the scene outside the pubs on a weekend night they pick fights with anyone it doesn't matter who the dutch courage is well imbued a king-hit a cowardly strike an innocent bystander lies in the gutter with a split open head the pavement stained with smatterings of blood young men drinking young men not thinking of the bystander's damaged brain

0

Jul 3, 2014

Jul 3, 2014 at 6:06 AM UTC

ElizabethSquires

Drinking

young men drinking young men not thinking this is the scene outside the pubs on a weekend night they pick fights with anyone it doesn't matter who the dutch courage is well imbued a king-hit a cowardly strike an innocent bystander lies in the gutter with a split open head the pavement stained with smatterings of blood young men drinking young men not thinking of the bystander's damaged brain

20

It was on the walk while surrounded by dizzy stillness and birds' song, Invoked in a desperate last gasp It was all too apparent with the spinning nothingness of this street Swirled and unapologetically driven by nonsense except in smatterings while looking down a street looking for a cigarette, The reality in facing reality hits me, like a swift kick in the nuts when the Gardener looks at me with those, uneasy eyes, The walk continues as the colors inked with rusted mailboxes etched with dying roses synch grey skies and grey...sweatshirts The walk feels well worn and I stand in unconvinced understanding, That I was no longer nauseous.

0

Jan 30, 2015

Jan 30, 2015 at 2:09 PM UTC

the-masked-sleepyz

A Walk Into Thin Air

It was on the walk while surrounded by dizzy stillness and birds' song, Invoked in a desperate last gasp It was all too apparent with the spinning nothingness of this street Swirled and unapologetically driven by nonsense except in smatterings while looking down a street looking for a cigarette, The reality in facing reality hits me, like a swift kick in the nuts when the Gardener looks at me with those, uneasy eyes, The walk continues as the colors inked with rusted mailboxes etched with dying roses synch grey skies and grey...sweatshirts The walk feels well worn and I stand in unconvinced understanding, That I was no longer nauseous.

17

We are the kinds of people who love first (maybe against mountains landscapes mountainscapes) fingerpick cherries cherrypick at dawn paint birds and blues and telephones. Live in E die in B sleep in space. Write of main characters (but dream of antagonists on planes or fields further upstate). Frame flowers before they have the chance to wilt stuff clothes into backpacks sing along with church choirs from the alleyway next door. Imagine biography covers and post-war memorials look at poetry like a lampshade leave for fear of holding on return in hopes of holding (set sail for north woods carry weight like hurricanes steal moments for beggars retreat as quickly as god) stride past roads with cameras. Stencil where we should sketch finish with a flourish lay by waterfronts lie by stormfronts take breaths like in movies. Need like children dream of signs (road signs shop signs celestial signs all are the same, all are the same) climb heights to speak of majesty climb down to think of it. Witness each other's faces like smatterings of people in cars. Arrange alphabetically depart dramatically realize with horror but abolish without difficulty watch things fall apart mix up the pieces work without ethic. (Things we get wrong we right but things we get right are already wrong.) Wind up in books we've never read. Change chords and regret the knowing that we can never not know last.

0

Apr 23, 2011

Apr 23, 2011 at 9:03 PM UTC

katie-mora

we are the kinds of people

We are the kinds of people who love first (maybe against mountains landscapes mountainscapes) fingerpick cherries cherrypick at dawn paint birds and blues and telephones. Live in E die in B sleep in space. Write of main characters (but dream of antagonists on planes or fields further upstate). Frame flowers before they have the chance to wilt stuff clothes into backpacks sing along with church choirs from the alleyway next door. Imagine biography covers and post-war memorials look at poetry like a lampshade leave for fear of holding on return in hopes of holding (set sail for north woods carry weight like hurricanes steal moments for beggars retreat as quickly as god) stride past roads with cameras. Stencil where we should sketch finish with a flourish lay by waterfronts lie by stormfronts take breaths like in movies. Need like children dream of signs (road signs shop signs celestial signs all are the same, all are the same) climb heights to speak of majesty climb down to think of it. Witness each other's faces like smatterings of people in cars. Arrange alphabetically depart dramatically realize with horror but abolish without difficulty watch things fall apart mix up the pieces work without ethic. (Things we get wrong we right but things we get right are already wrong.) Wind up in books we've never read. Change chords and regret the knowing that we can never not know last.

57

distant fading dulled blue mountains mist cerulean eyes peek through rolling gray smatterings rain’s aloneness petering her drops; quiet dribbles splash outwardly radiant circular wakes renew the fresh an already illogical current slowly skips over treasures beneath chaotic babble chants to movements a river’s concertos streaming in the key of cold evergreenest grasses sprouting in spurts and clumps bright colored wildflowers intermittently decorate her ostentatious banks as he wades in toward the challenge; a thrown gauntlet of smooth rock a natural outcropping base as platform he stacks one rock atop another, atop another, atop another in improbable, impossible, asymmetrical design ordered without regard to size, weight, shape or color randomly selecting whatever rocks the river offers discerning surfaces support point and counterpoint complements exploiting gravity with unconscious physics and body language a wiggle this way, a lean that way, trying to find the balance within “becoming the balance”; feeling it in your core strong hands breathe stillness his creation held with steady gaze and o’ so deep concentration relaxing fingers first; then pulling his arms away to reveal a consummation of peace a manmade natural temple; testament to the art of patience a magnificent mystery a satisfying moment frozen in time precariously awaiting eventual collapse

0

Jan 27, 2016

Jan 27, 2016 at 3:53 AM UTC

del-maximo

A PEACEFUL RIVER ROCKS

distant fading dulled blue mountains mist cerulean eyes peek through rolling gray smatterings rain’s aloneness petering her drops; quiet dribbles splash outwardly radiant circular wakes renew the fresh an already illogical current slowly skips over treasures beneath chaotic babble chants to movements a river’s concertos streaming in the key of cold evergreenest grasses sprouting in spurts and clumps bright colored wildflowers intermittently decorate her ostentatious banks as he wades in toward the challenge; a thrown gauntlet of smooth rock a natural outcropping base as platform he stacks one rock atop another, atop another, atop another in improbable, impossible, asymmetrical design ordered without regard to size, weight, shape or color randomly selecting whatever rocks the river offers discerning surfaces support point and counterpoint complements exploiting gravity with unconscious physics and body language a wiggle this way, a lean that way, trying to find the balance within “becoming the balance”; feeling it in your core strong hands breathe stillness his creation held with steady gaze and o’ so deep concentration relaxing fingers first; then pulling his arms away to reveal a consummation of peace a manmade natural temple; testament to the art of patience a magnificent mystery a satisfying moment frozen in time precariously awaiting eventual collapse

27

1:12 am I sit up in bed. I can’t love her. It’s impossible. Dark long curls Smatterings of freckles Bright pink lips with an even brighter mind. The way she kissed me A burning passion that set fire in my core The way her hands held mine and explored in between my thighs. Our friendship had all the promises of a love affair. Impossible. I couldn’t love her. She was like a forbidden fruit that I long to taste time and again. We were two lonely girls who found solace in each other. Desperate for affection and attention. Ours was a false love story But it didn’t make it any less true.

0

Jan 18, 2017

Jan 18, 2017 at 1:43 AM UTC

sadie-2

Untitled (8-15-15):

1:12 am I sit up in bed. I can’t love her. It’s impossible. Dark long curls Smatterings of freckles Bright pink lips with an even brighter mind. The way she kissed me A burning passion that set fire in my core The way her hands held mine and explored in between my thighs. Our friendship had all the promises of a love affair. Impossible. I couldn’t love her. She was like a forbidden fruit that I long to taste time and again. We were two lonely girls who found solace in each other. Desperate for affection and attention. Ours was a false love story But it didn’t make it any less true.

25

It has been a year Exactly one year to the day When we decided to say I do, again, forever, together. And never a day goes by That I don’t try to hold you And tell you again how much You mean, your voice, your touch. The only things that matter Are these smatterings of moments Like hugs and kisses good morning And the same at bedtime at night. These things are right and the best Better than all the rest in life Worth any strife, any price, Several steps beyond nice They are what fuels my hopes And my peaceful dreams. It seems that sometimes quickly There are tickly moments to bear Like a bolt out of somewhere That must be suffered through But as I do, there are you Smiling saying it will pass And just that fast, it does. What it was is then a memory And no longer vexes me Because what is important is us And not a sorrow that once was. So, here is yet another toast To what matters most, you and I Learning from what has gone by And building toward a great future That is the two of us together And never a regret that we are Who we are, not wishing on a star But accepting and reveling In what we have now And happy with how Things can work out for two Like me and like you.

0

May 22, 2016

May 22, 2016 at 10:03 PM UTC

brent-kincaid

ANNIVERSARY DAY

It has been a year Exactly one year to the day When we decided to say I do, again, forever, together. And never a day goes by That I don’t try to hold you And tell you again how much You mean, your voice, your touch. The only things that matter Are these smatterings of moments Like hugs and kisses good morning And the same at bedtime at night. These things are right and the best Better than all the rest in life Worth any strife, any price, Several steps beyond nice They are what fuels my hopes And my peaceful dreams. It seems that sometimes quickly There are tickly moments to bear Like a bolt out of somewhere That must be suffered through But as I do, there are you Smiling saying it will pass And just that fast, it does. What it was is then a memory And no longer vexes me Because what is important is us And not a sorrow that once was. So, here is yet another toast To what matters most, you and I Learning from what has gone by And building toward a great future That is the two of us together And never a regret that we are Who we are, not wishing on a star But accepting and reveling In what we have now And happy with how Things can work out for two Like me and like you.

41

I can see Spring and her fine colours from afar. I long to stand under the cherry blossom tree as it rains confetti down on me. Instead I stand in real rain, hazy, pattering, smatterings of daffodils pressed against barbed wire.

0

Mar 18, 2020

Mar 18, 2020 at 1:36 PM UTC

Misser

Spring from quarantine

I can see Spring and her fine colours from afar. I long to stand under the cherry blossom tree as it rains confetti down on me. Instead I stand in real rain, hazy, pattering, smatterings of daffodils pressed against barbed wire.

9

Life is a journey don’t be in a hurry it starts at birth and for what it’s worth Youth is wasted on the young stuck at home cannot roam far flung enjoy childhood while you can do not wish to be a man Or a woman, be a girl growth in time will unfurl changes to your body and voice and your height in time will hoist But do not rush this or you will miss grandparents, Santa and Birthday wish sports and games and plays and such not now but in time you will miss it much Junior high and sometimes high school is a drag when it’s done of those times you will brag so enjoy them all the way through because you’ll notice the time, it flew Go to dances, parties, and gatherings gather knowledge in smatterings play football, try the choir and FFA long distance running or softball play You do not have to win each one but trying them is half the fun have a group of best friends you know, Keepers till the end But meet new people do not be shut the best of them will make the cut out of School to college or a job of your beliefs do not be robbed Continue to be who you are after all, your decisions fill your jar continue to learn and experience life continues on and hence Find a spouse or a calling fill your life with job or some bawling kids, and watch them grow like the grass that must be mowed And tended, they now are also on the path guide them well and do the math through parenthood and middle age from your experience, advice, give sage Grow old do not stop living and doing your life gets shorter when you stop moving see your kids their Kids and maybe their kids Set an example for the journey of life along the way, love your husband or wife you and they will know you lived when at last they close the casket lid.

0

Oct 20, 2016

Oct 20, 2016 at 4:50 PM UTC

jed-johnson

Life is a Journey

Life is a journey don’t be in a hurry it starts at birth and for what it’s worth Youth is wasted on the young stuck at home cannot roam far flung enjoy childhood while you can do not wish to be a man Or a woman, be a girl growth in time will unfurl changes to your body and voice and your height in time will hoist But do not rush this or you will miss grandparents, Santa and Birthday wish sports and games and plays and such not now but in time you will miss it much Junior high and sometimes high school is a drag when it’s done of those times you will brag so enjoy them all the way through because you’ll notice the time, it flew Go to dances, parties, and gatherings gather knowledge in smatterings play football, try the choir and FFA long distance running or softball play You do not have to win each one but trying them is half the fun have a group of best friends you know, Keepers till the end But meet new people do not be shut the best of them will make the cut out of School to college or a job of your beliefs do not be robbed Continue to be who you are after all, your decisions fill your jar continue to learn and experience life continues on and hence Find a spouse or a calling fill your life with job or some bawling kids, and watch them grow like the grass that must be mowed And tended, they now are also on the path guide them well and do the math through parenthood and middle age from your experience, advice, give sage Grow old do not stop living and doing your life gets shorter when you stop moving see your kids their Kids and maybe their kids Set an example for the journey of life along the way, love your husband or wife you and they will know you lived when at last they close the casket lid.

53

"Science will save us" was the early diet off all education. Once the child could look around and gather some smatterings of bearings. Armed with a microscope and the absorption of former minds work, they set off to conquer the academic world. Their buildings glittering with the unspoken ideals of their field, a jump above and the zoning in a small nature of the universe, playing with God's laws, staring him in the eye. And we sit back in our leaky, sun-setted windows buildings, desiring the human condition, exchanging empathies of existence and lamenting the archaic actions of ancient revising their records: "Day 51: with these crazy apes" The dreams, the beard strokes, the pondering lost who fear for our lives. As we watch through our sunset windows the dawn of the new scientific man. A world without our thought

0

Aug 25, 2015

Aug 25, 2015 at 4:36 AM UTC

dacia-b

Science Students

"Science will save us" was the early diet off all education. Once the child could look around and gather some smatterings of bearings. Armed with a microscope and the absorption of former minds work, they set off to conquer the academic world. Their buildings glittering with the unspoken ideals of their field, a jump above and the zoning in a small nature of the universe, playing with God's laws, staring him in the eye. And we sit back in our leaky, sun-setted windows buildings, desiring the human condition, exchanging empathies of existence and lamenting the archaic actions of ancient revising their records: "Day 51: with these crazy apes" The dreams, the beard strokes, the pondering lost who fear for our lives. As we watch through our sunset windows the dawn of the new scientific man. A world without our thought

6

It's hard to write a poem and read it to someone who can not read words for what they are not and then try to explain it to them in words that are what they are. It comes across as only ink smatterings on perfect paper and a series of vowels and consonants on perfect silence.

0

Mar 19, 2013

Mar 19, 2013 at 4:11 PM UTC

anndersen-fremin

Nameless Poem no.1

It's hard to write a poem and read it to someone who can not read words for what they are not and then try to explain it to them in words that are what they are. It comes across as only ink smatterings on perfect paper and a series of vowels and consonants on perfect silence.

6

smattering of us are about small things that remind smells that have aroused sounds uttered in good and grief sights of shadows framed for dispaly saluations, sorrows and sweetness surrounds us snugly smatterings of you are shadows seeping away slowly swiftly leaving motionless spaces no longer secure sanity waning likes seasons secrets spilllng smatterings of me are emerging spreading to seek warmth and light searching for grounding adn firmness safe that i am stong smatterings of me are here--success

0

Mar 22, 2017

Mar 22, 2017 at 2:29 PM UTC

brenda-callahan

Smatterings

smattering of us are about small things that remind smells that have aroused sounds uttered in good and grief sights of shadows framed for dispaly saluations, sorrows and sweetness surrounds us snugly smatterings of you are shadows seeping away slowly swiftly leaving motionless spaces no longer secure sanity waning likes seasons secrets spilllng smatterings of me are emerging spreading to seek warmth and light searching for grounding adn firmness safe that i am stong smatterings of me are here--success

18

from up there, that drossless spray waves down gold. a gentle blindness kept throwing the heart up like a baby bird. coming out of the mouth as stifled bursts of joy. bridged breaths which beaded pilgrims clung to sight as. looking down and seeing valleys between the ruffles of grasses. blade to blade...phosphene smatterings. through the passes of stewing whorls.

0

Feb 8, 2019

Feb 8, 2019 at 11:48 PM UTC

Onoma

That Drossless Spray

from up there, that drossless spray waves down gold. a gentle blindness kept throwing the heart up like a baby bird. coming out of the mouth as stifled bursts of joy. bridged breaths which beaded pilgrims clung to sight as. looking down and seeing valleys between the ruffles of grasses. blade to blade...phosphene smatterings. through the passes of stewing whorls.

12