Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
sancus May 14
you take all of the
stars in the night sky with you
whenever you leave.
Diagonal ribbs of stone
Sharp
Steep
Sparkling
Gleaming
Though dry
Winds take care of that
They fill the grooves of the solid
Where reflections and shadows
Perform their dances
That they've learned from falling leaves
This is a pedestal for night
This lump was begotten by it
Night has swallowed the moon
So smooth and round and white
And spit this rough rock at earth
So I could sit before its wall
And watch the swing
As fires eat wood
There's plenty of it around
In this starless dark
False Poets Oct 2017
does the moon get tired?

~for the children who never tire of moon gazing upon the dock,
by the light of the fireflies,
till the angels are dispatched by Nana,
to sprinkle sleepy dust in their eyelashes so long and fine~


<•>
while walking the dog I no longer have,
a happenstance glanceable up over the River East,
there you were, mr. moon, in all your fulsomeness ,
surrounded by a potpourri of courtier clouds,
all deferentially bowing, waving,
passing past you at a demure royal speed on their way
perhaps,
to Rebecca's northern London,
of was it south to grace of  v V v's Texas^,
in any event,
the cloudy ladies, all bustling and curvaceous,  
all high stepping in recognition of your exalted place,
Master of the Night Sky

We,
the word careless, poets excessive,
sometimes called silly poppies, old men,
left footed, still crazy after many years,
most assuredly poets false all of us,
without a proper prior organized thought train,
outed,
bludgeon blurted,
an inquiry preposterous and strange,
strait directed to the sombre face,
to mister moon himself!

tell me moon, do you ever tire?*

the obeisant clouds shocked
as that face we all uniform know,
unchanged anywhere you might go  to gaze, be looking upon it,
watched the moon's face turn askew.

He looking down at our rude puzzlement,
with a Most Parisian askance,
a look of French ahem moustacheoed disbelief,
while we watched as the moon cherubic cheeks
filled with airy atmosphere,
then he sighed

so windy winding, was it,
so mountain high and river deep,
that those chubby clouds were blown off course,
from a starless NYC sky
all the way past Victoria Station,
only to stop at Pradip and Bala's
mysterious land of
bolly-dancing India,
on their way to Sally's Bay of Manila,
magic places all!

Mr. Moon looked down at this one tremulous fool representative  
(me) and in a voice
basso beaming and starry sonorous,
befitting its stellar positioning,
squinting to get a closer look at the
who in whom
dare address him in such an emboldened manner!

Mmmmm, recognize you, you are among those
who use my presence, steal my lighted beams, my silver aura,
my supermoon powered light, borrow my eclipses,
reveal my changeling shaped mystery without permission,
only mine to give, you tiny borrowers who write that thing,
p o e t r y

head and kneed, bowed and bent,
I confessed
(on y'alls behalf)

we take your luminosity and don't spare you
even a tuppence, a lonely rupee, no royalties paid
to you-up-so-highness,
and we hereby apologize for all the poets
without exception,
especially those moon besotted,
only love poem writing,
vraiment misbegotten scoundrels....

with another sigh equality powerful,
mr moon pushed those clouds across the Pacifica,
all the way to the  US's West Coast,
up to Colorado,
where moon-takings from the lake's reflecting light
so perfect for rhyming, kayaking,
and moonlight overthrowing,
once more, the moon taken and begotten,
nightly,
as heaven- freely-granted

yes, I tire
and though  here I am much beloved,
usually admired though sometimes even blackened cursed,
seen in every school child's drawing,
in Nasa's calculations,
of my influential gravitational pull,
moving human hearts
to love and giving Leonard a musical compositional hint,
and while this admirable devotion is most delighting,
would it upset some vast eternal plan,
if but one of you once asked,
you fiddler scribblers
my prior permission,
even by just, a lowly
mesmerizing evening tide's tenderizing glance?

yes, I tire,
even though my cycles are variable,
my shape shifting unique, my names so at variance
in all your many musical sing-song dialectical languages,
my sway, my tidal currents so powerful a deterrence,
unlike my boring older sunny cousine  who just cannot get over
how hot looking she is,
I,  so more personally interesting,
yet you use me as if I were a fixture,
on and off with
a tug of the chain string,
never failing to appear,
even when feeling pale yellow and orange wan,
and worse,
mocked as an amore pizza pie,
do you ever ask how I am doing?

yes, I tire,
of my constant circuitous route that changes ever so slowly,
but yet, too fast for me to make some nice human acquaintances, especially those young adoring children
who give me their morn pleasurable squeals when they awake and my presence still there,
a shining ghost of a guardianship protector still
watching over them

how oft in life do we presume,
take for granted
grants so extra-ordinary
that we forget to remember
the extra
and see only the ordinary

how oft in life do we assume,
the every day is always every,
until it is not,
only an only
a now and then,
till then,
is no longer a
now*

<>
oh moon, oh moon,
our richest apologies
we hereby tender and surrender,
our arrogance beyond belief,
what can we offer in relief?

silence heard loud and clear,
mr. moon was gone,
a satellite in motion,
so our words burnt up in the atmosphere
unheard

we did not weep
nor huff and puff,
blow those clouds back to us,
for we knew
the extraordinary
would return tomorrow,
we will be ready,
better another day,
to prepare
a lunar composition,
a psalm of hallelujah praise,
for mr. moon
of which
mr moon will never tire,
for filled with the perma-warmth
of our affection
for the one we call mr.moon
False Poets is a collective of different poets who write here, in a single voice,
hence the confusing interchangeable switching of the pronouns.    sorry bout that.


^ HP - give them back the claimed  V name!
Camilla Green Jan 2018
In apple growing-warmth,
I found oceans between eyelashes and Pacific air.

Ligamented with smoke, skeleton hands crafted cigarettes of honey and curling floral sweetness.

For soft-haired royalty, I bowed my heart and washed my skin in space and rainy wishes.

I drowned myself in polish remover, to show the stripped beauty of love and life
to a sun who lives off alcohol and notions of wouldn't it be nice?

But I, the noiseless patient spider,
who has flung gossamer after thread,
am reaching for nothing but an earth flower,
One who I thought loved me,
or at least that’s what she said.
((one who sees through rose-pink eyeglasses,
and speaks in feathered song.))

Still, I sleep well under starless skies,
where urban northern lights burn the dark,
charred there by city windows and boundless passing cars.

Here, I wrap myself in a cloth galaxy,
and I paint the sun with blackberry juice,
trading gold and diamonds for the simple hope
that someone might live up to you.
1-20-2018
zebra May 2017
i breathe
one breath at a time
each inhalation linked to the exhalation before it
yet every breath stands alone
there's something tenuous about it
this soft machine is on thin ice
devoured by time in innocent increments
like a moth nibbles away wool

my heart
little gorilla
wearing itself out
rubber glove with a hole in it
weird luck

my eyes are bright
solar blue ball lanterns

if you saw me
you would say
good bones
river of envy

yet all hinges
on a muscular rhythmic pulsating machine
like a determined jaw chewing
jumpy mouth

yet on the verge of betrayal
a glitch
karmic indecision  
in destinies wheel house
a red fist locus banging

ones immense sense of self
a vainglorious elaboration
built over a small pulsating muscle
innocuous

dumb blood flesh knot drumming
scarlet tribe
throne of my very soul
great sovereign
old man in a crib
splitting open of its own accord  
a sudden rip from life
to a dead sea eternity
the final frontier

starless night
Gargee Pareek Sep 2018
Fall last year
I saw the warm glow
spread on your cheeks
like a shooting star
across a starless night
My fingers run through
the chestnut halo
splayed on my lap
Cocooned by serenity
under the veil of a pregnant hush
I close my eyes
consumed by fullness
and you.
Deep Oct 2018
O traveller, why lookest thou ahead road,
grave and speculative,
Depriving your eyes such a beatific sight,
See the angelic form that standeth behind
that window curtain,
Come, wait, sit beside me, it’s worth waiting,
We both will sing in praise of her
And linger until she uplifts the curtain.
You say it’s purposeless
Why argue?
Isn’t it the reason our maker gives us eyes?
Isn’t it the purpose of our mind’s evolution
to sing and hail the beauty; at least of her.

You won’t believe my word? Impertinence!
You will be blinded by her shadow
spare her presence; “stare not for long”,
What? You say it exaggeration…
Bon dieu!
If beauty is not exaggerated
where lies its charm.

Look! her shadow moving, she is
growing impatient as if  getting
late to meet her lover.
Yes, she wins heart in a look
and crushes it in a blink and wins again
by smile.
Monarch sleeps in her bed
Life in right, Death in left hand; she possess,
Judiciary in closet
And warriors in purse.
Countries bow, world kneel, universe supplicate
before her.
Stop! Where thou going?
Pardon these adynatons,
I’m drunk in her beauty.

Let us sing then, I’ll lead, you follow

Flowers wilting in chilled air,
Waiting clouds to part
To have a look fair,
Of moon…

Do see the restlessness in that room?
I can sense her ***** heaving, repressed
sighs, and her fingers twisting, twirling
in exasperation,
It must be a lover
who invented song, isn’t it?

A gloomy firefly in this starless sky
Searching his lover
Who has lost the light,
Wait not moon, rise, help him
In his plight…

Look! look! The curtain is drawn
There she, my sovereign,
don’t mistake her eyes for stars.
Have a profound look, but not too long;
this witnesses only fortunates.
What? you lost your vision-
But I warned you earlier.
Now who’ll testify I saw her?
Call me bella Jun 2018
Emptiness,
from starless nights,
to freezing waters,
paralizing the soul
of a despised parrot.
Just like the love
you gave,
and fogged
my soul.

A phoenix's song,
louder than the storm,
with a sacrifice
to die in flames,
hoping to see you again.
Just like the love
my fogged soul
offered to yours.
Antino Art Feb 19
The smoke stacks that line the waterfront be like giant joints puffing thoughts of her into air embalmed by hundreds of rainy days
That slow burn, against the icy bay and the barges that carry their loads through them
This corner of the world gets six hours of daylight, tops
Greys seared by neon, smoke and clouds and fog produced as one
continuous substance
There's a pleasant blurryness here
floating amid the buoys and the docked ferryboats,
In the way the monorails glide above toward a 1960s dream of the space age through an Amazonian jungle of glass and cranes
in harmony with the clouds sailing overhead
Here is where you go to let off steam deferred, where you ride trains through a kind of dark that arrives early, stays up late
as shadows wander across the gum covered walls of Post Alley
like ghosts made of espresso mist
freed from lit joints protruding from the skyline
to a high beneath starless heaven
Resting into the glow of that harbor
against thoughts of her that cloud the view of the sea.
zebra Aug 2017
she sat quietly in a cafe
pale
freckled with only one arm
and a missing foot
always shaking invisibly

deformed
from the curse of desolation

facing downwards  
she read the couplet

her maiden voyage was a lonely one
and it lasted all the days of her life

she wept silent tears
through interminable silent days
and starless nights
fearing her resemblance
to that ode of the forsaken

her countenance
a broken heart

i've come for you
i murmured

i'm a busted doll she said
see my pretty stumps
wheelchair
crutch
do you like them

strangely yes ...so very much
i wept softly

no one wants me
she whispered
i'm a blight of horror
a castaway to be avoided
my life a nightmare
of dark estrangement
a walking wound in tears
to crooked to be loved
a torn doll

looking into the depths of her soul
i called
i've always wanted a lopsided girl
with flaying stumps
and a brooding heart
to save
to love
to heal
to cuddle
and adore
to cry over
with wild warping hugs
always aching
for my darling
little *******

we kissed
wet mouthing clamors
lips and tongue
like oleo spread

i picked her up
and tangled her in my arms
as she thawed like heated oil

i ran off with her
tears streaming
and visited upon her
every kindness and pleasure of heaven
*and it lasted all the days of her life
LOVE
Within the whirlpool of silhouettes in the darkened night
there she stood

Burdened with eyes that has seen too many
deaths
it’s all she’s come to know

Streaking black hair that masquerades her
face
the type that makes the moon pale in her white aura

Lithe figure she possessed yet hardened by the life she has so far lead
to a place she wished to have fled

And in the midst of this starless night surrounded by a world of scorned dreams and ground too salted to sprout aspiration

She reminisced
but in her minds eye all she could see were humanities cries
with desires and passions set aside the earth contorted to stone
and yet she still cried

Voices bearing the hailing of lost legacies echoed through the
lonely night
and the girl wondered if she was the only one who heard the sigh


“Don’t breathe,
live”
Labhrás Dec 2018
Alone,
A walk in the night
Cool, calm, solitary.

Darkness as I walk,
The cool night air
Envelops, absorbs.

My mind drifts,
I become the darkness
My feet lift from the ground.

Drifting in a starless night,
Wishing to disappear
As does the darkness at dawn.

Suddenly pulled to earth,
A car drives by.
Then, once again

Alone, in the darkness I walk.
Alone, with the drifting of my mind.
Alone, in cold air and black night.
Partially drafted on a walk a few years ago, finally completed I think. First attempt at this. Feedback warmly welcome!
Isla Sep 2018
she looked out from the inside
at the world
rushing by
all the people hurried past
and no one ever smiled
no one had the time
no one had the time
to stop
and look at her
really look at her
why would they look?
she was plain
anyone could see that
with brown eyes and straight brown hair
she had acne on her forehead
her front teeth stuck out a little
anyone could see that
she had a nervous habit of biting her nails
then again all her habits were nervous
but anyone could see that

but she was not plain

she had eyes that melted into honey when she laughed
and turned to a starless night when she cried
sunlight would frame her profile, just to be close to her skin
and when a smile graced her lips
the world held its breath
because look at her
just
look
why does no one see it?
Yue Wang Yidhna Sep 2018
There is a ghost in your voice
Haunting me through the silence



Through every droplet of memory
Dotting my otherwise starless night

I tried to gather them
With my words, my fear, my soul
And yet they remain forever bond
To a place I cannot reach
A being I cannot see
And a love I can never hear

Your flowering existence sheds invisible petals
I seem to be able to find
Yet, I'm ever uncertain
All these pieces of your soul
Did you left them for me to find
A breadcrumb trail leading only
To a chance in the future
To an uncertain promise
Or did I just stole the traces
Of your existence you left for the universe
Claiming them as something I could own

Should I keep them or scatter them

Or are they even yours
Could it be that they are the pieces of my soul
Still clinging on to you
That you're finally shedding away
To be complete on your own

What could I do
Standing in pieces
Holding someone's soul
That may or may not be my own
If they weren't
I'd still be missing all the chunks I've given to you
If they were
I'd still be empty
Because
I'm forever hollow without you
Yue Wang Yidhna Aug 2018
How do I tell if
You’re only a dream
Or my reality

Not by the ecstasy
Of coexistence
Simply standing next to you
Moments at a time
Yet,
Each second a lifetime of joy
So short lived, mere sparks
In my dreamless night
Yet, each of them
Brighter than a thousand suns
Bringing everlasting warmth
To the starless depth
Of my soul

But, by the intensity of my pain
When your flame suddenly
Extinguished within me
Within my reach

At that very moment
And forever after
There was
A hush
The silence of deafening screams
At war with one another
That annihilate my reverie
Of living

For you have taken with you
All of me
My words, my breath, my being
Ever stretched between a world
I struggle to remain within
And the senseless
Abyss

I feel every pinch
Every twinge
Every insufferable pull
Yet, I plead not for numbness

I savor this
Savor the intensity
Of this unbearable
Suffocating pain
Of longing

For, only then
I know
You are my reality
You can never be just a dream
With such profound
Suffering
Adam Schmitt Mar 2018
(I can't type a capital s with my keyboard for some reason)

The moon shines down with a crooked smile
onto the streets below
The Drunken crowds, the smokey haze
The empty stores, the neon blaze
All awash in a blue-white glow
The clouds gather in the darkness
The ships reinforce their hull
The sky above is starless
In the Kingdoms of the skull

You're driving home on the same road
You've taken every day before
You curse the truck that cut you off
With an American flag pasted to its door
At a glance you know the driver, inside and out.
A fool, no doubt...hateful, witless, and dull...
You're judge, jury and executioner
In the Kingdoms of the skull

What's known is known, what's not is not
What's happening to you is real,
where you are is where you're caught
But in the Kingdoms of the skull...
you are lord of all the land
every man must kneel to you
every heart is yours to command
Oh, In the Kingdoms of the skull...
the sun orbits me,
My view of things is clear and right,
It all happened because of me
unfinished poetic concept that might be a song one day. It was inspired by David Foster Wallace's "This is Water" speech.
Yue Wang Yidhna Nov 2018
My every thought had a life

My every thought was a living soul

Whose very birth and death begin and end

With the existence of you


I have never truly felt such joy

Rippling through every atom within me

Each blooming into a sea of wildflowers

A sea of every living thing

Playful, wild and free

Until I've met your eyes

Until I've met your smile


When you rushed into my presence

I've not just suddenly seen the light

But felt its wrath

Felt its everlasting warmth

Felt its very presence

Merely standing distances away from

You

Letting it consume me

Letting it wrap its invisible arms around me

Seep through my being

And transform me into a

Vessel carrying only love and fear


I've been asking questions all my life

Asking to be accepted

Asking to be fearless

Asking to be loved

And thought I needed answers


Yet the moment I saw you

And every moment when you were

Within my sight

I've readily forgot how to fear

How not to let happiness through

I've even forgot my own existence

Let alone its troubles and tears


And then, came the darkness:

What you have brought with

Your presence

You've taken them with you with

Your absence

And as you turned your back and

Walked away

The joy followed you

Then the light

Then my very dream of sleepless nights

My very dream of living

Until only the dreamless, the starless

Were left

To tear me away from my own soul

To break apart my every living particle

And along with the unbearable and breathless

Pain of its tearing, hurl each of them

One by one, into the abyss

Of loveless silence

And pointless existence


I've savored the twinge of its tearing

Endure the pain of its death

And rejoiced at this everlasting suffering

Knowing my love for you is true and endless


In the end, may it never end,

If I were to never love you

I'd only wish upon you

The heat and wrath of this joy

You've once gifted to me

And never, for a moment

Feel this pain, and suffering of your

Absence

Even, if I'd have to endure them

Eternally

For you
(May 21, 2019:
Found this poems:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2806601/vessel-of-love-and-fear-carrying-your-pain/
Reposted on Wattpad:
https://www.wattpad.com/652068712-if-i-weren%27t-crazy-i%27d-be-insane-✔️-23-vessel-of
Without credit.
The poem was written by me, Yidhna, on October 5, 2018, but was not posted on HP until November; meanwhile, the Wattpad dates the whole book to October 19, 2018. I have, fortunately, emailed myself the poem on the day it was written.


October 5, 2018
I am so grateful to have my poem "Help me love my humility chosen as a Daily. And thank you so much for all your kind comments!!!

I wrote this not long after I announced that I'd be staying off HP for a while and I am not really back yet.

This was one of two poems I wrote before I became completely silent in words again.
To even think about poetry became stressful for me recently. So unfirtunately I havent been on this site to read all your wonderful writes!

The Constant Battle

By: Yidhna

Every little detail feels so grand and insurmountable

Every greatness seems so unreachable yet trivial in the face of immediate threats and envy

Like the match that’s jealous of the campfire while the moon shines coldly and so distantly

Every moment of happiness and sorrow feels as if they are at the edge of a fall of complete loss

Every moment of stillness feels so numb and dull

Every step I take is a great journey of only weariness and aches

Every great journey cannot hold my attention away from the littlest distraction

My simple words feels so undecorated

And

My more flourished pieces seem so convoluted

I seem to be an individual that’s too different

Yet

Not original enough

And

These are the constant battles in my mind

Waiting for your presence

The call for ceasefire
zebra Sep 2017
in a veiled world
i am light like a feather
disembodied
lightening in a bottle
everything here is alive with madness
wild walls and chairs chatter
like wise cracking gangsters
always sporting for a fight

blood tulips cry and sing
rise and wither
and rise again
loop dancers move from rhythms of light
there are many kingdoms here

in a broken terrain of night
an obsidian ash sky howls
and we are shut in
to a starless and opaque sky
behind an impassable slate black gate
the ground a curse
all teeth and rocks
bones and weeping flesh

vampires live here
like clans
all blood porphyria
their mouths a beautiful rust
a tempting visage
half seduction, half terror

needled fingered hematologists
prepare our dinner
her name
Mercy
all body candy
tattooed with a snake ****
her ******* pierced
with rose paved sparkles
and *******
stabbed with bat shaped studs

nurses sharpen knives
while quack doctors
tend to
little plastic dolls
blood bathers
with crossed femurs
in hospitals beds

she
a naked lunch
sumptuous
and willing betrothal
in a pearl satin gown
black lips glossed
hair red and purple
thighs and belly trussed

******* scorched and punctured
from incensed flames, teeth and ravaging kisses
eaten with panicked jaws
her **** torrid
a gushing river banquet
of blood black jam
chained and strapped
legs stirruped wide
feet silky glisten
for tongues and kisses

a candle light ritual
as she is copulated
by both sexes
and fed upon

Mercy
laughing like a loon
screaming
eat the feast
you lovely beasts

and half devoured
emerges
a blood perfume delirium
she all
writhing wet mouth drools
saliva like diamonds and pomegranates
back arched
withered from a blistering frenzy
her eyes a white glaring tempest
gone vacant
her mouth like licorice slur
gaping
frozen in a ghastly shriek
her belly nectar
oozing
as the very last of her
a rattled blood moon
surrendered
her remains
a crimson splot
in a wasting lament

matted hair
warm languishing mucous
scattered teeth
and a single smouldering
finger still  in flames
on a worn blood stained porcelain buffet

wolfed down
in the
house
of
Dragool
and they vomited all night
DULCET VAMPIRES ***
****** HORROR
FOR THOSE VOYEURS OF THE DARKLY ******
Next page