"squirreling" poems - Hello Poetry

bathed in the cool light of the moon, my sweet puppyhead and me, sit. under the full soft light, her ray’s illuminating the yard, the woods. footsteps crunch drying leaves, fox, deer or foe? waning canopy, boughs lighter each day. fall, majestic, peaceful dying for another year. plants and creatures, taking refuge in the deep dark void of mother earth, of mother nature. squirreling away tidbits for a late winter snack, coats blooming, thickening. such delight, each night, sitting outside, my puppyhead and me. quiet and solitary, no humans annoying me. silent and still only nocturnal creatures meandering about. what magic, what sacredness. what mystical delight. never apart, only the ONE. such silly confusion, thinking a person, separate and small, quaking with fear. the big deep dark mystery laughing and jovial, always here, here for us all. open your eyes, feel your nature, always here, never apart. fearing death fearing life, what a silly way to live this life! the moment you were born, you began dying, what a relief, knowing the score! relaxing into the madness, laughing at it all, pure and free, forever more, and not…… being, not being, eons of reflection, sages and rishis revealing the truth, it can’t be done for you, only you can become that which you are…. that which you always were. my sweet love, my sweet life, my puppyhead and me, sitting here in Fall. ~~~

0

Sep 13, 2015

Sep 13, 2015 at 6:32 PM UTC

amiee

Moon filled, Early fall morning

bathed in the cool light of the moon, my sweet puppyhead and me, sit. under the full soft light, her ray’s illuminating the yard, the woods. footsteps crunch drying leaves, fox, deer or foe? waning canopy, boughs lighter each day. fall, majestic, peaceful dying for another year. plants and creatures, taking refuge in the deep dark void of mother earth, of mother nature. squirreling away tidbits for a late winter snack, coats blooming, thickening. such delight, each night, sitting outside, my puppyhead and me. quiet and solitary, no humans annoying me. silent and still only nocturnal creatures meandering about. what magic, what sacredness. what mystical delight. never apart, only the ONE. such silly confusion, thinking a person, separate and small, quaking with fear. the big deep dark mystery laughing and jovial, always here, here for us all. open your eyes, feel your nature, always here, never apart. fearing death fearing life, what a silly way to live this life! the moment you were born, you began dying, what a relief, knowing the score! relaxing into the madness, laughing at it all, pure and free, forever more, and not…… being, not being, eons of reflection, sages and rishis revealing the truth, it can’t be done for you, only you can become that which you are…. that which you always were. my sweet love, my sweet life, my puppyhead and me, sitting here in Fall. ~~~

71

Like a sponge, latching on to anything. Squirreling everything away inside Its heart, porous, with all the holes. Maybe They can be filled like this. They can't. Eventually, we put the sponge under Pressure. And then watch, Sickened, As everything hidden away in the porous heart of a sponge Comes gushing out.

0

Jan 29, 2014

Jan 29, 2014 at 11:47 AM UTC

amazinglybadidea

sponge

Like a sponge, latching on to anything. Squirreling everything away inside Its heart, porous, with all the holes. Maybe They can be filled like this. They can't. Eventually, we put the sponge under Pressure. And then watch, Sickened, As everything hidden away in the porous heart of a sponge Comes gushing out.

14

I don't watch **** You're more likely to see me squirreling away pictures of elaborate bathtubs, in shame. Sometimes, in the still of the night, I look up well thought-out Murphy-beds and closets that disappear into secret home offices. I keep a hidden stash of blackout poems and lewd photos of street artistry around my neighborhood. I savor notes my best friend gave me during middle school. I walk a crooked walk down to the seedy underbelly of my past and read feverishly all my past feelings and relive them to remember how vivid they once were. But, just like **** in watching and re-watching and savoring all the same flavors everything tastes like mud now.

0

Mar 17, 2014

Mar 17, 2014 at 10:55 PM UTC

katsphilosophy

I Don't Watch ****

I don't watch **** You're more likely to see me squirreling away pictures of elaborate bathtubs, in shame. Sometimes, in the still of the night, I look up well thought-out Murphy-beds and closets that disappear into secret home offices. I keep a hidden stash of blackout poems and lewd photos of street artistry around my neighborhood. I savor notes my best friend gave me during middle school. I walk a crooked walk down to the seedy underbelly of my past and read feverishly all my past feelings and relive them to remember how vivid they once were. But, just like **** in watching and re-watching and savoring all the same flavors everything tastes like mud now.

14

(The Art of Failing Goodbye) I covet your closeness; how could I not? You were my world once upon a mime. Honestly. Though my pride will deny it, our demise left me discarded. Hiding amongst the few collateral souvenirs: stupidity and bitterness. I bestowed to you the best of me; although you never asked me to. My heart, body, and soul - yours for the taking - a decision made on my own accord. Because you never asked me for any of it. You never asked me to do the things I did. But I loved you - innocent as that. Thus, relinquishing logic entirely. Hardly more than a stranger, I felt I knew you; unaware of the lidded fabulist within. A mere tourist of my chassis; enthralled by my looks. Enthralled by just me. “In love” so deep, you attempted suicide twice. Upon my rejection – in theory. They almost beat you to death, and left you to the wolves. Deserved it? An understatement tenfold. And yet. My compassion was what saved you. I protected the same entity who pulverized my own. They all said you were no good – they said a mythomaniac would leach onto me until there was nothing left, ****** dry – then you would leave. Onto the next; life on the move. Daddy said you’d leave me in shambles. Was he right? …Duh. A question sheathed in rhetoric; absolutely. A black hole does not give back. Wake UP, m Maple – Ali – Oliver – whatever you are today.mWake up, you ****** And look here. You ruthied(sp?) me last Halloween, took my body as your own, enabled a cycle I’ll no longer accept. The girl who cried rape…an alias to forever haunt me. No one believed me then. Why would they now? This final hurrah; a Halloween blackout. Wherein, you personified my worst nightmare. A cruel and unusual punishment – at best. And then. You slithered and slinked away; no apologies – no goodbye for me. You’d taken all of me. Just like they said. All my value – dismembered and pocketed. Off you went…as predicted. Onto the next…life on the move. You etched your gimmick; smuggling trust; squirreling intuition - these morals I'd entombed - you burrowed away. Promising Eden, you offered a map; directing me as I sailed the route. The garden, however, was not what I found. My catafalque(coffin) negated expectations you set; a utopia of dazzling, abundant nature. For, you'd devised a mousetrap; and I'd glissaded willingly inside… For the very last time, gaze entwined. Blue on brown. SNAP.

0

Jan 23, 2016

Jan 23, 2016 at 7:48 AM UTC

Maples

Nameless in Rottenland (Tonight, you rot in jail)

(The Art of Failing Goodbye) I covet your closeness; how could I not? You were my world once upon a mime. Honestly. Though my pride will deny it, our demise left me discarded. Hiding amongst the few collateral souvenirs: stupidity and bitterness. I bestowed to you the best of me; although you never asked me to. My heart, body, and soul - yours for the taking - a decision made on my own accord. Because you never asked me for any of it. You never asked me to do the things I did. But I loved you - innocent as that. Thus, relinquishing logic entirely. Hardly more than a stranger, I felt I knew you; unaware of the lidded fabulist within. A mere tourist of my chassis; enthralled by my looks. Enthralled by just me. “In love” so deep, you attempted suicide twice. Upon my rejection – in theory. They almost beat you to death, and left you to the wolves. Deserved it? An understatement tenfold. And yet. My compassion was what saved you. I protected the same entity who pulverized my own. They all said you were no good – they said a mythomaniac would leach onto me until there was nothing left, ****** dry – then you would leave. Onto the next; life on the move. Daddy said you’d leave me in shambles. Was he right? …Duh. A question sheathed in rhetoric; absolutely. A black hole does not give back. Wake UP, m Maple – Ali – Oliver – whatever you are today.mWake up, you ****** And look here. You ruthied(sp?) me last Halloween, took my body as your own, enabled a cycle I’ll no longer accept. The girl who cried rape…an alias to forever haunt me. No one believed me then. Why would they now? This final hurrah; a Halloween blackout. Wherein, you personified my worst nightmare. A cruel and unusual punishment – at best. And then. You slithered and slinked away; no apologies – no goodbye for me. You’d taken all of me. Just like they said. All my value – dismembered and pocketed. Off you went…as predicted. Onto the next…life on the move. You etched your gimmick; smuggling trust; squirreling intuition - these morals I'd entombed - you burrowed away. Promising Eden, you offered a map; directing me as I sailed the route. The garden, however, was not what I found. My catafalque(coffin) negated expectations you set; a utopia of dazzling, abundant nature. For, you'd devised a mousetrap; and I'd glissaded willingly inside… For the very last time, gaze entwined. Blue on brown. SNAP.

15

outward brain stem hummock analogously, (asper bound minuscule magnum opus) figuratively paginated with drowned atavistic animal instincts roar back to life upon found perceived or real threat adrenaline splashes cerebral hemispheres triggering body electric to become alert as a blood hound countless millenniums ago the flight or fight reaction apropos when savage beasts threatened tribe with bro whizzing primitive creatures some forced tweet crow wing, thence railing, swooping, trouncing dough main housing small cluster of emo ting primates (gabbling in primal grunts and groans witnessing ruminants scurrying to and fro survival of the fittest danger field thus by dint of inherent smarts didst grow outwitting wily coyote, or other lion eyes, *** ping automatic saving grace tactics recalled, when looming predator doth woof and warp emergency arises, when debacle fore stalled for time against getting mauled whereby each subsequent ruse out foxing fierce-some, hungry non a mew zing potential breakfast, lunch, or dinner as the sorry loo sir aye sic newt ton, sans this non nonsense game of "Life", which thru countless millenniums strategies grew layered upon left and right cerebral hemispheres few till hetty became diminished as con tra bands of bipedal hominids drew upon accumulated storied history learned from Bubba Zayda's many times over motley crew squirreling modus operandi wove (traversing eons) corpus collosum hair (more so nerve fiber weave a microscopic whirled wide web linkedin left and right fist size gray matter coated with transparent integument custom made swiftly tailored sleeve ah...proving grounds, when forebears of **** Sapiens touch and go tagged on permanent leave on par with imagining dragons easy to believe.

0

Mar 17, 2018

Mar 17, 2018 at 7:22 PM UTC

matthew-scott-harris2p

Quiescence Pervades Medulla Oblongata

outward brain stem hummock analogously, (asper bound minuscule magnum opus) figuratively paginated with drowned atavistic animal instincts roar back to life upon found perceived or real threat adrenaline splashes cerebral hemispheres triggering body electric to become alert as a blood hound countless millenniums ago the flight or fight reaction apropos when savage beasts threatened tribe with bro whizzing primitive creatures some forced tweet crow wing, thence railing, swooping, trouncing dough main housing small cluster of emo ting primates (gabbling in primal grunts and groans witnessing ruminants scurrying to and fro survival of the fittest danger field thus by dint of inherent smarts didst grow outwitting wily coyote, or other lion eyes, *** ping automatic saving grace tactics recalled, when looming predator doth woof and warp emergency arises, when debacle fore stalled for time against getting mauled whereby each subsequent ruse out foxing fierce-some, hungry non a mew zing potential breakfast, lunch, or dinner as the sorry loo sir aye sic newt ton, sans this non nonsense game of "Life", which thru countless millenniums strategies grew layered upon left and right cerebral hemispheres few till hetty became diminished as con tra bands of bipedal hominids drew upon accumulated storied history learned from Bubba Zayda's many times over motley crew squirreling modus operandi wove (traversing eons) corpus collosum hair (more so nerve fiber weave a microscopic whirled wide web linkedin left and right fist size gray matter coated with transparent integument custom made swiftly tailored sleeve ah...proving grounds, when forebears of **** Sapiens touch and go tagged on permanent leave on par with imagining dragons easy to believe.

53

She had long since stopped singing. The notes that had once flown off her tongue now lay dormant, her voice box squirreling away melodies meant to be sung aloud. Once, she brought smiles to the faces of old men as she trilled and skipped about, flaunting the youthful lightness of her limbs. But the notes were gone now, and with nothing to carry her, she sunk. She no longer slept as she once had. Her nights had stretched long, with such indifference for the troubles of the waking, she had rarely bothered to see the morning. Now she awoke before the sun, shaken from slumber by the ghosts that haunted her. She knew they had less hold in consciousness. Singing, sleeping, these she did not miss. They simply slipped away when she had forgotten to notice them, forgotten to relish her dreams, to hum lyrics that buoyed her above the pavement.

0

Jun 21, 2013

Jun 21, 2013 at 10:53 PM UTC

bex-2

Mute

She had long since stopped singing. The notes that had once flown off her tongue now lay dormant, her voice box squirreling away melodies meant to be sung aloud. Once, she brought smiles to the faces of old men as she trilled and skipped about, flaunting the youthful lightness of her limbs. But the notes were gone now, and with nothing to carry her, she sunk. She no longer slept as she once had. Her nights had stretched long, with such indifference for the troubles of the waking, she had rarely bothered to see the morning. Now she awoke before the sun, shaken from slumber by the ghosts that haunted her. She knew they had less hold in consciousness. Singing, sleeping, these she did not miss. They simply slipped away when she had forgotten to notice them, forgotten to relish her dreams, to hum lyrics that buoyed her above the pavement.

3

You remind me of Fall Maybe that’s because of the russet in your hair The crackle in your voice The crispness in your emerald eyes Or how you always seem to be so hollow; Like an oak tree Confliction squirreling up inside a beautiful mind Making nests; hibernating in dark places A shell of who you used to be--could’ve been Lays upon fallen leaves And like all things in fall, Withers and dies with them too.

0

Jul 31, 2016

Jul 31, 2016 at 9:31 PM UTC

passion-fraiegari

Fall

You remind me of Fall Maybe that’s because of the russet in your hair The crackle in your voice The crispness in your emerald eyes Or how you always seem to be so hollow; Like an oak tree Confliction squirreling up inside a beautiful mind Making nests; hibernating in dark places A shell of who you used to be--could’ve been Lays upon fallen leaves And like all things in fall, Withers and dies with them too.

12

I sit around your table waiting for titbits to fall into my memory memory forever fading they say as the years grow older. But I still listen squirreling each crumb then taking them out when no-one is watching I string them together trying to make sense of the songs you sing to me.

0

Jul 18, 2015

Jul 18, 2015 at 4:00 AM UTC

nivek

string them together

I sit around your table waiting for titbits to fall into my memory memory forever fading they say as the years grow older. But I still listen squirreling each crumb then taking them out when no-one is watching I string them together trying to make sense of the songs you sing to me.

13