"steepening" poems - Hello Poetry

My body disobeys me. Each step forces me to exercise parts of my body I didn’t know had subsisted. I hardly controlled my maneuvers, as I basically drifted. Even my helmet is showing signs of weakening, under these steepening, enormous pressures. Terrified and trembling with my humanly gestures, I must have sent vibrations throughout the cold water as the creatures began to circle over my head. I could see off in the distance the submarine of my former occupation. A distant iconic stationary emblem of my failures. Then, the porpoises and scaled beasts parted to contrast a heavenly sight. *No corpses or failed feasts started in the ballast of this night.* For a maiden of duality saved my beckoning soul from the eternal slumber that had otherwise awaited. The rest of this tale I leave up to the mystery of word of mouth. But what must be said is that underneath the blue waters lies much that we do not begin to conceive. Take it or leave it, I cant force a man to believe.

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Dec 6, 2013

Dec 6, 2013 at 7:44 PM UTC

gusse

The Maiden

My body disobeys me. Each step forces me to exercise parts of my body I didn’t know had subsisted. I hardly controlled my maneuvers, as I basically drifted. Even my helmet is showing signs of weakening, under these steepening, enormous pressures. Terrified and trembling with my humanly gestures, I must have sent vibrations throughout the cold water as the creatures began to circle over my head. I could see off in the distance the submarine of my former occupation. A distant iconic stationary emblem of my failures. Then, the porpoises and scaled beasts parted to contrast a heavenly sight. *No corpses or failed feasts started in the ballast of this night.* For a maiden of duality saved my beckoning soul from the eternal slumber that had otherwise awaited. The rest of this tale I leave up to the mystery of word of mouth. But what must be said is that underneath the blue waters lies much that we do not begin to conceive. Take it or leave it, I cant force a man to believe.

29

Rage received is like heavy sea Crashing against the rocks upon which stands a lighthouse, The waves build up as they reach the shallows, Steepening and rearing, Building ire and power until Smashing over and over Against the rock and the edifice, Obliterating any view of the tower And the rock, But this lighthouse is indeed built on rock, With pilings driven deep and secure in Faith in what lies behind the waves, Knowlege that the storm will pass, The sun will shine once more And even as the salt water and vitriol Do their worst, Above it that light still shines out, A message of love and security, And these seas which crash into the rock Were built up by the wind of actions And words poorly founded, In the true ocean there will always be Another storm and another calm, But rage can find peace now Because the cause is calm, The cause is kind, The cause is gentle And it holds you gently in my arms

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Nov 29, 2023

Nov 29, 2023 at 6:02 AM UTC

jamesb

Rage

Rage received is like heavy sea Crashing against the rocks upon which stands a lighthouse, The waves build up as they reach the shallows, Steepening and rearing, Building ire and power until Smashing over and over Against the rock and the edifice, Obliterating any view of the tower And the rock, But this lighthouse is indeed built on rock, With pilings driven deep and secure in Faith in what lies behind the waves, Knowlege that the storm will pass, The sun will shine once more And even as the salt water and vitriol Do their worst, Above it that light still shines out, A message of love and security, And these seas which crash into the rock Were built up by the wind of actions And words poorly founded, In the true ocean there will always be Another storm and another calm, But rage can find peace now Because the cause is calm, The cause is kind, The cause is gentle And it holds you gently in my arms

28

I could not see the next summit, the gashed gnarl of its face. I guessed only that its steepening inclines had been set against me. I could hear all the echoings of the dead in their ice-tombs where their aims had led them and buried them, then, deeper, the incredible footfall of sherpas, spirited, light and deft, unbetraying. A silence stretched on toward a night long with unhuman testimony. Then it came: the world-clearing hammer-blows of distant avalanches, the palpitations of chaos, one whiteout of potentiality. My tent fluttered and gripped at the snow that stored for spring all paths to the peak, leading through veils of embraces, inconsolable losses, charms, fantastic indictments. Swelling its stormfront, then collapsing into a voice like winter, the wind took up a human song and broke across the horizons. It sang, 'You are an unborn fjord, a chasm yet to be. Only water sculpts its beauty: let it pass. Throw no harness over the clouds, they hold no secrets, but are. Here, while you plan your ascent each night, exalting the fey, the indolent, the totemic, you are like a thief on a watchtower. Until every such night has passed you will light, tend, and watch die a small, tense fire, but awake surrounded by footprints.'

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Dec 2, 2016

Dec 2, 2016 at 2:15 AM UTC

mahislop

Base Camp

I could not see the next summit, the gashed gnarl of its face. I guessed only that its steepening inclines had been set against me. I could hear all the echoings of the dead in their ice-tombs where their aims had led them and buried them, then, deeper, the incredible footfall of sherpas, spirited, light and deft, unbetraying. A silence stretched on toward a night long with unhuman testimony. Then it came: the world-clearing hammer-blows of distant avalanches, the palpitations of chaos, one whiteout of potentiality. My tent fluttered and gripped at the snow that stored for spring all paths to the peak, leading through veils of embraces, inconsolable losses, charms, fantastic indictments. Swelling its stormfront, then collapsing into a voice like winter, the wind took up a human song and broke across the horizons. It sang, 'You are an unborn fjord, a chasm yet to be. Only water sculpts its beauty: let it pass. Throw no harness over the clouds, they hold no secrets, but are. Here, while you plan your ascent each night, exalting the fey, the indolent, the totemic, you are like a thief on a watchtower. Until every such night has passed you will light, tend, and watch die a small, tense fire, but awake surrounded by footprints.'

40

i've got the dark side of the moon On its back, crescent-cut, undereye. A sign of my exhaustion, Which i use to fuel my rise. Everything below but bare remembrance, Like my fridge, running empty. Or so i surmise. Guess i'll fill it or guess I'll die. This approach? Unsustainable. i'm ragged, climbing through life, The slope only slows, steepening, i Think it's about time I fly.

0

Sep 25, 2017

Sep 25, 2017 at 4:50 AM UTC

seriousU

Whose Wishes Come True?

i've got the dark side of the moon On its back, crescent-cut, undereye. A sign of my exhaustion, Which i use to fuel my rise. Everything below but bare remembrance, Like my fridge, running empty. Or so i surmise. Guess i'll fill it or guess I'll die. This approach? Unsustainable. i'm ragged, climbing through life, The slope only slows, steepening, i Think it's about time I fly.

12

Brokenhearted and distraught your eyes like rifles loaded and cocked enraged and disgusted with their whites blood shot You aim your gaze when the lever engaged and depart from the room like the white waters rush All your rage hung around the house it lingers like soot clung to a burnt out fire pit Soon I'll be begging for your return if not by midnight when the candle burns out You're back-and-forth always pacing scattered like the wind blown rain, but your image is quickly beginning to fade with storm shadows racing across moonlit drapes sliding as darkness frayed from the shade Nightmares adjust to the crest of day plunging over the steepening cusp of a burnt orange skyline slipping from the horizon into tomorrow's dusk Air inhaled as oxygen has failed your breath now poisonous The iron in your blood corrodes metallic flaking fragments settled in rust Smoke lingers on the wall clinging like a frameless picture cockeyed and covered in dust, with loosened staples brushed to the floor, blackened as pieces briskly burn into a crust Sunlight reaches through a slit in the curtain reflecting off of floating debris spotlit against this grey smokescreen Fire bellows between load bearing walls, bathing in kerosene cider and bourbon Stay engaged despite an eyeful of rage staring down the barrel of a rifle's gaze, assuredly fueling this fire to the brightest and bluest of flames

0

May 8, 2020

May 8, 2020 at 6:02 AM UTC

Iamsparticus03

The Blue Flame

Brokenhearted and distraught your eyes like rifles loaded and cocked enraged and disgusted with their whites blood shot You aim your gaze when the lever engaged and depart from the room like the white waters rush All your rage hung around the house it lingers like soot clung to a burnt out fire pit Soon I'll be begging for your return if not by midnight when the candle burns out You're back-and-forth always pacing scattered like the wind blown rain, but your image is quickly beginning to fade with storm shadows racing across moonlit drapes sliding as darkness frayed from the shade Nightmares adjust to the crest of day plunging over the steepening cusp of a burnt orange skyline slipping from the horizon into tomorrow's dusk Air inhaled as oxygen has failed your breath now poisonous The iron in your blood corrodes metallic flaking fragments settled in rust Smoke lingers on the wall clinging like a frameless picture cockeyed and covered in dust, with loosened staples brushed to the floor, blackened as pieces briskly burn into a crust Sunlight reaches through a slit in the curtain reflecting off of floating debris spotlit against this grey smokescreen Fire bellows between load bearing walls, bathing in kerosene cider and bourbon Stay engaged despite an eyeful of rage staring down the barrel of a rifle's gaze, assuredly fueling this fire to the brightest and bluest of flames

47

The cobblestone pathway leads to a river, the blue water somehow runs clear. The pathway goes on through the steepening slopes, and the crystal caves come into sight. I see wild flowers among the high pines, and step on to the gold satin sand. We dove underwater and soon we discovered, that beneath the clear wave we could still breath.

0

Feb 16, 2017

Feb 16, 2017 at 3:10 PM UTC

Scottie

Composition of the Brain

The cobblestone pathway leads to a river, the blue water somehow runs clear. The pathway goes on through the steepening slopes, and the crystal caves come into sight. I see wild flowers among the high pines, and step on to the gold satin sand. We dove underwater and soon we discovered, that beneath the clear wave we could still breath.

8