"sprinklings" poems - Hello Poetry

Ingredients: suitcases photo albums quick wit a new space that is comfortable to breathe in, raise other beings in, and nurture pets and your spirit in. Sprinklings of humor to shake on it all when it gets to be too much. Mason jars of self-appreciation and worth to open in an emergency, if these qualities are forgotten and old patterns resurrected. Preparation: First, sit quietly with yourself. Breathe deeply, as many times as you need. Fill as many soul cups as you can with confidence, and pour them on yourself, until they sink into the soapstone of your pores. If needed, tip back your head and open your mouth, in order to have a more direct inflow. After that, take just as many cups of calm and pour them in, slowly and with generosity. It is okay if you overflow; you may need extra serenity later, when you are in the midst of action. Let the two ingredients mix, slowly, until colors as yet unnamed are formed in your solar plexus, spilling throughout the entirety of your body. Take a break and blow bubbles, for lightness. Yes, you may laugh like a loon. Marinade: After the laughter has subsided, take a big dose of self- love and rub it all over yourself, drizzled like fine coconut-scented oil. Do not miss a spot, even on the parts that you have a problem with. In fact, give those extra love. And now, for the rub: This has been simmering for a while. It is time to push it all into the oven and bake it. The heat is rising, so be quick. Take all precious memories and sew them into the pockets of your coat. The ugly ones, burn, quickly and thoroughly. Scatter the ashes into the wind. Hang new pictures on the wall. Splashes of nature you have photographed. Mandalas created by a precious daughter. A platypus wishing you goodnight by your little flower imp. A cheeky photo of your boy, to remind you of inner sauciness. All of these strengthen with love. Finally, rest your head upon the new pillow and inhale the scent of freshly laundered springtime. For now, the ordeal of your winter has ended. Time for a long, languid, luxurious dessert. A new life! Bon appetite!

0

Apr 5, 2017

Apr 5, 2017 at 4:36 PM UTC

lora-lee

Recipe for Escape

Ingredients: suitcases photo albums quick wit a new space that is comfortable to breathe in, raise other beings in, and nurture pets and your spirit in. Sprinklings of humor to shake on it all when it gets to be too much. Mason jars of self-appreciation and worth to open in an emergency, if these qualities are forgotten and old patterns resurrected. Preparation: First, sit quietly with yourself. Breathe deeply, as many times as you need. Fill as many soul cups as you can with confidence, and pour them on yourself, until they sink into the soapstone of your pores. If needed, tip back your head and open your mouth, in order to have a more direct inflow. After that, take just as many cups of calm and pour them in, slowly and with generosity. It is okay if you overflow; you may need extra serenity later, when you are in the midst of action. Let the two ingredients mix, slowly, until colors as yet unnamed are formed in your solar plexus, spilling throughout the entirety of your body. Take a break and blow bubbles, for lightness. Yes, you may laugh like a loon. Marinade: After the laughter has subsided, take a big dose of self- love and rub it all over yourself, drizzled like fine coconut-scented oil. Do not miss a spot, even on the parts that you have a problem with. In fact, give those extra love. And now, for the rub: This has been simmering for a while. It is time to push it all into the oven and bake it. The heat is rising, so be quick. Take all precious memories and sew them into the pockets of your coat. The ugly ones, burn, quickly and thoroughly. Scatter the ashes into the wind. Hang new pictures on the wall. Splashes of nature you have photographed. Mandalas created by a precious daughter. A platypus wishing you goodnight by your little flower imp. A cheeky photo of your boy, to remind you of inner sauciness. All of these strengthen with love. Finally, rest your head upon the new pillow and inhale the scent of freshly laundered springtime. For now, the ordeal of your winter has ended. Time for a long, languid, luxurious dessert. A new life! Bon appetite!

34

Forest floor, underbrush abound; The light sprinklings of winter found. Snow kissed scenery, that Whether cold be dreary Still seems the more dreamy, than Tracing each step. These frigid months of death- Before life springs back Bringing fresh greenery

0

Jan 18, 2024

Jan 18, 2024 at 8:37 PM UTC

manx-kronos-pragna

Black Veil Bride

Forest floor, underbrush abound; The light sprinklings of winter found. Snow kissed scenery, that Whether cold be dreary Still seems the more dreamy, than Tracing each step. These frigid months of death- Before life springs back Bringing fresh greenery

9

Flurries of enlightenment, following blizzards without dreams Sprinklings of epiphanies, accompanied by deluges of rambling screams Gentle winds of understanding, conjoined sand storms of despair Clear ponds of insight, in the wake tsunamis of nightmares No clear or concise light not without the glare Thoughts snatched from eyes of hurricanes not common, but so rare

0

Oct 26, 2016

Oct 26, 2016 at 2:24 PM UTC

TemporalFugue

Prose and Drought

Flurries of enlightenment, following blizzards without dreams Sprinklings of epiphanies, accompanied by deluges of rambling screams Gentle winds of understanding, conjoined sand storms of despair Clear ponds of insight, in the wake tsunamis of nightmares No clear or concise light not without the glare Thoughts snatched from eyes of hurricanes not common, but so rare

12

The aged wood of the boardwalk echos hollowly, but has a damp undertone from the left behind wet footprints of the day. We thud forward in silence, commenting trivially on the nights happenings when my attention is slowly stolen. Silently, the night wind picks up the lost sand on the boards and sprinkles it across my feet, desperate to take my attention. Uncaught by anyone but me, a waver in her voice in the prime of her retelling of her day, Did she notice my distraction? In a final attempt at shallow conversation we turn to talking about the weather. But, the wind is greedy. It whips the sea oats until they shiver and sigh, an eerie sound. Silence. Our final few steps on the board walk crunch. Crunch until. . . Finally, our eager toes lick the sand, cooled by the wind and stars. Naturally, unknowingly our toes dig and burrow in joy, reminiscing to the innocent barefooted days in the sand-box. The wind, eager again for my attention, breathes down my spine. We quicken our pace. As we drawn nearer to the ocean, the mist scares the cowardly wind away. Sprinklings of salt, water, and sand speckle upon our sun kissed skin. Laughter. We lay down in the sand, each lost in our own worlds and look to the deep heavens above. Reflections of depth and light, moon to sun, space to sea. The peace found only in the bare nakedness of a bed of sand and friends. Open. Sheltered. Free.

0

Aug 26, 2012

Aug 26, 2012 at 7:55 PM UTC

cyril-blythe

Oceanic Greed

The aged wood of the boardwalk echos hollowly, but has a damp undertone from the left behind wet footprints of the day. We thud forward in silence, commenting trivially on the nights happenings when my attention is slowly stolen. Silently, the night wind picks up the lost sand on the boards and sprinkles it across my feet, desperate to take my attention. Uncaught by anyone but me, a waver in her voice in the prime of her retelling of her day, Did she notice my distraction? In a final attempt at shallow conversation we turn to talking about the weather. But, the wind is greedy. It whips the sea oats until they shiver and sigh, an eerie sound. Silence. Our final few steps on the board walk crunch. Crunch until. . . Finally, our eager toes lick the sand, cooled by the wind and stars. Naturally, unknowingly our toes dig and burrow in joy, reminiscing to the innocent barefooted days in the sand-box. The wind, eager again for my attention, breathes down my spine. We quicken our pace. As we drawn nearer to the ocean, the mist scares the cowardly wind away. Sprinklings of salt, water, and sand speckle upon our sun kissed skin. Laughter. We lay down in the sand, each lost in our own worlds and look to the deep heavens above. Reflections of depth and light, moon to sun, space to sea. The peace found only in the bare nakedness of a bed of sand and friends. Open. Sheltered. Free.

24

Dust lies on piano, its lust to play a tune Powder upon ballet slippers, in mansion ruin Come light through weathered window On chair, on table, on letter marooned Contents never read, her fear what it reads Years it sits unopened, as felt be no need Come light through weathered window Causing illumination, on doubts, indeed Music echoes through its musty lingers Memories enchanted; his long dancing fingers Come light through weathered window Onto keys, sprinklings particle bringers All this sifting silt, effervescent in the air As her heart was so jilt, and left without a care Come light through weathered window Untouched slippers, feet dancing bare Turning up dust, each and every day Lady of this mansion, dancing her cares away Come light through weathered window Forever in swirls of doubts, she stays

0

Apr 20, 2016

Apr 20, 2016 at 11:18 AM UTC

pj-poesy

Come Light Through Weathered Window

Dust lies on piano, its lust to play a tune Powder upon ballet slippers, in mansion ruin Come light through weathered window On chair, on table, on letter marooned Contents never read, her fear what it reads Years it sits unopened, as felt be no need Come light through weathered window Causing illumination, on doubts, indeed Music echoes through its musty lingers Memories enchanted; his long dancing fingers Come light through weathered window Onto keys, sprinklings particle bringers All this sifting silt, effervescent in the air As her heart was so jilt, and left without a care Come light through weathered window Untouched slippers, feet dancing bare Turning up dust, each and every day Lady of this mansion, dancing her cares away Come light through weathered window Forever in swirls of doubts, she stays

20

Dusty universe with sprinklings of light, you're a magical pondering. I wonder if you wonder back. Then expanse hits me. Fascination of winsomeness in elements crashing, forming new star clusters, nebula unknown or yet to be sowed, beckons an idea of horror in mediocrity. How should one stand out amongst your immense glory? Will effervescent bubbling spectrums with spiraling arms of some galaxy suddenly singe any existence known to man? Could any man guess your plan? Earth shattering revelation, I'm guessing there is no plan. So I'll make my own, and let all this revolving and evolving take care its' own.

0

Nov 13, 2015

Nov 13, 2015 at 1:58 PM UTC

pj-poesy

Space Continuum

Dusty universe with sprinklings of light, you're a magical pondering. I wonder if you wonder back. Then expanse hits me. Fascination of winsomeness in elements crashing, forming new star clusters, nebula unknown or yet to be sowed, beckons an idea of horror in mediocrity. How should one stand out amongst your immense glory? Will effervescent bubbling spectrums with spiraling arms of some galaxy suddenly singe any existence known to man? Could any man guess your plan? Earth shattering revelation, I'm guessing there is no plan. So I'll make my own, and let all this revolving and evolving take care its' own.

24

Coriander sprinklings and subtle tastes as we lean together and giggle as children exchanging nibbles and pecks of love at the gentle lullings of our sleeping boats And the sun would shine on our dark heads burning our hairs and lighting the fires echoing our laughter while we filled the earth with eternal love that would span the sky And all the distances would pull us apart taking our lives this way and that winding through the darkest routes enshrining our happiness to the past But we would - as always - remember well clinging to the smells of the world keeping our hearts closed to disruptions but letting our confidence sway–––– And yet the world would bring us back to hear our giggles and childish banters taking delight at the slightest triggers and painting lives in watercolour So moments pass and times repeat clear in the eye of our observers But crimson shades and all spring scents watch our bonded rains and shines And for every moment I reflect you shine brighter than luminance.

0

Jan 3, 2013

Jan 3, 2013 at 10:14 PM UTC

helios-rietberg

Watercolour

Coriander sprinklings and subtle tastes as we lean together and giggle as children exchanging nibbles and pecks of love at the gentle lullings of our sleeping boats And the sun would shine on our dark heads burning our hairs and lighting the fires echoing our laughter while we filled the earth with eternal love that would span the sky And all the distances would pull us apart taking our lives this way and that winding through the darkest routes enshrining our happiness to the past But we would - as always - remember well clinging to the smells of the world keeping our hearts closed to disruptions but letting our confidence sway–––– And yet the world would bring us back to hear our giggles and childish banters taking delight at the slightest triggers and painting lives in watercolour So moments pass and times repeat clear in the eye of our observers But crimson shades and all spring scents watch our bonded rains and shines And for every moment I reflect you shine brighter than luminance.

26

sprinklings of soft flour scattered upon teal green kitchen tiles well wishings and moving chairs make soft background noises I look up at the deep red of your apron the business suit of the old fashioned woman you pick me up and place me on the tiles Usually cold, they're warm in the kitchen's heat I smile as I draw a tree through the flour you look down on me and laugh such warmth and happiness in your smile that split second of attention, all I needed, to progress through the cinnamon smelling household on a day perfect for lying.

0

Dec 17, 2014

Dec 17, 2014 at 3:32 PM UTC

MollieMcC

Untitled

sprinklings of soft flour scattered upon teal green kitchen tiles well wishings and moving chairs make soft background noises I look up at the deep red of your apron the business suit of the old fashioned woman you pick me up and place me on the tiles Usually cold, they're warm in the kitchen's heat I smile as I draw a tree through the flour you look down on me and laugh such warmth and happiness in your smile that split second of attention, all I needed, to progress through the cinnamon smelling household on a day perfect for lying.

14

The smell of fire was ever fresh on the air, smoke seething in dark grey circles around the sky. Round and round and round, like a patient bird of prey. The concrete bridge felt warm, as if hell lay just beneath its surface. I could remember hearing screams, sounds of shrill shrieking panic. But now... nothing. Nothing but the silent crackle of not so distant flames. I felt warm, feverishly hot. I slowly turned my gaze to my arms, half expecting to see a half blackened skeleton with skin sloughing off by the fistful. I saw soot, soot and sprinklings of ash covered me. I looked like a snowman made in hell. Dante must be laughing right now. The world might be burning down around me right now, but the only thing I could think of- was how badly I wanted to say "boo!" My sheared lungs tried to chuckle- and I instantly regretted it. My body immediately slumped, as if some great god had wistfully flicked it from where it slouched against the bridge in a fit of whimsy. I would have laughed had my throat not suddenly erupted in flame. I swear I could feel the embers dotting my air canal lighting up like fourth of July fireworks. Holy **** Ouch is a ******* understatement. As the pain slowly started to subside, somewhere within my now crumpled heap of a body I got will power to open my eyes again. My mistake. Not 10 feet from where I lay- curled into my best imitation of a ball- lay the ash coated corpse of sloughed skin and splintered bone that I knew as Anna. I screamed. And this time, the agony couldn't stop me.

0

Oct 15, 2015

Oct 15, 2015 at 4:18 AM UTC

DrakeBrayer

Ashes in the Morning

The smell of fire was ever fresh on the air, smoke seething in dark grey circles around the sky. Round and round and round, like a patient bird of prey. The concrete bridge felt warm, as if hell lay just beneath its surface. I could remember hearing screams, sounds of shrill shrieking panic. But now... nothing. Nothing but the silent crackle of not so distant flames. I felt warm, feverishly hot. I slowly turned my gaze to my arms, half expecting to see a half blackened skeleton with skin sloughing off by the fistful. I saw soot, soot and sprinklings of ash covered me. I looked like a snowman made in hell. Dante must be laughing right now. The world might be burning down around me right now, but the only thing I could think of- was how badly I wanted to say "boo!" My sheared lungs tried to chuckle- and I instantly regretted it. My body immediately slumped, as if some great god had wistfully flicked it from where it slouched against the bridge in a fit of whimsy. I would have laughed had my throat not suddenly erupted in flame. I swear I could feel the embers dotting my air canal lighting up like fourth of July fireworks. Holy **** Ouch is a ******* understatement. As the pain slowly started to subside, somewhere within my now crumpled heap of a body I got will power to open my eyes again. My mistake. Not 10 feet from where I lay- curled into my best imitation of a ball- lay the ash coated corpse of sloughed skin and splintered bone that I knew as Anna. I screamed. And this time, the agony couldn't stop me.

1

First associated with romantic love, My baby sings a sweet song: “Away and above” Innocence cascades from her tender lips, Trembling. Fresh, and guileless She’s December’s snow sprinklings; Pale, and shamed. And perfectly lonely She’s wildly tame. Her affection spreads to me solely. Look she’s smiling. How customary. Her feelings interior Au contraire, she Fell to a man of superior Strength. I took her hair in my hand, Her brickle strands, Breaking, and her heart dropped To the earth and I stomped.

0

Apr 11, 2014

Apr 11, 2014 at 4:38 PM UTC

tiri-dear-1

Away and Above

First associated with romantic love, My baby sings a sweet song: “Away and above” Innocence cascades from her tender lips, Trembling. Fresh, and guileless She’s December’s snow sprinklings; Pale, and shamed. And perfectly lonely She’s wildly tame. Her affection spreads to me solely. Look she’s smiling. How customary. Her feelings interior Au contraire, she Fell to a man of superior Strength. I took her hair in my hand, Her brickle strands, Breaking, and her heart dropped To the earth and I stomped.

22

Overcast and delicious Wonderful yet suspicious Flowers blooming In a sky without blue And even the grass is Shining like new On a bed of ash I dance with the flames I'd tell you again But it's all in the name My hands grow tired From tending the fire But the highest of heights Exists to aspire Passion drifts by Feelings so high I can't help but notice The pain in my side Destruction so swift Catches my eye Helpless and ****** I let it slip by I'm sure that they know Facts left in tow Frailty is shattered Mindless and battered I reach for my faith To withdraw scattered Ages of time are Sprinklings of dust Seduced by sound And tempted by lust Why free the soul To shackle the mind Taken as whole Cast out as swine Show me the way Pointless to say In a box to exist A strange-fated twist Wanting to feel A feeling of want Questions and answers Dance about and taunt

0

Feb 5, 2021

Feb 5, 2021 at 1:20 AM UTC

Jason_R_Michie

Apathetic Masochism

Overcast and delicious Wonderful yet suspicious Flowers blooming In a sky without blue And even the grass is Shining like new On a bed of ash I dance with the flames I'd tell you again But it's all in the name My hands grow tired From tending the fire But the highest of heights Exists to aspire Passion drifts by Feelings so high I can't help but notice The pain in my side Destruction so swift Catches my eye Helpless and ****** I let it slip by I'm sure that they know Facts left in tow Frailty is shattered Mindless and battered I reach for my faith To withdraw scattered Ages of time are Sprinklings of dust Seduced by sound And tempted by lust Why free the soul To shackle the mind Taken as whole Cast out as swine Show me the way Pointless to say In a box to exist A strange-fated twist Wanting to feel A feeling of want Questions and answers Dance about and taunt

44