"stitcher" poems - Hello Poetry

Love mourner Angst angler Thesaurus eyer Rip-rapper Suet idler Dream creamer Cascade scribbler Intro-pee-er Guts gusher Endorphinater Sonnet snoozer Trochee tripper Iambic lamer Spondee sniveler Whisper whipper Music quencher Apt-less adjectiver Yeast yearner Simile stitcher Metaphor monger Exclaimationizer!

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Nov 1, 2010

Nov 1, 2010 at 7:58 PM UTC

perig3e

Par-annoyer

Love mourner Angst angler Thesaurus eyer Rip-rapper Suet idler Dream creamer Cascade scribbler Intro-pee-er Guts gusher Endorphinater Sonnet snoozer Trochee tripper Iambic lamer Spondee sniveler Whisper whipper Music quencher Apt-less adjectiver Yeast yearner Simile stitcher Metaphor monger Exclaimationizer!

21

Don't let me be acquaintance ancestry. Celestial bodies deny me peace, hidden behind moonlight white sheets and skyscraper evidence markers. But I, advice malnourished, recede among the intangible tangents of lesser-used thoughts. I let the shadows take me because maybe they should have a long time ago and I was too scared to let them out of my veins, let the crack from my neck leak the demons and my trust. Don't let me be predisposed possibility, never so whole as seraphs and satanists, guided by singularity. My lives were revolutions, made up of weaker constitutions encapsulated, a prescription purpose that guides me past milligram monument men braver than I was, but already marble ghosts. Let me be the helpful dream, the stitcher of seams; it seems the tie is torn too much, the threads thrown astray like things lost in space, too tangled to discern the strongest way to reinforce the conclusion of my weakness. Let me be the used-to-be, the once-was boy who could never see. Blindness is a condition I accept willingly, and deafness with it, and warmth's retreat. Let me be cold, forgotten gold buried beneath a tombstone treasure map. Let me go.

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Mar 19, 2014

Mar 19, 2014 at 12:28 AM UTC

brendan-watch

Don't Let Me Be

Don't let me be acquaintance ancestry. Celestial bodies deny me peace, hidden behind moonlight white sheets and skyscraper evidence markers. But I, advice malnourished, recede among the intangible tangents of lesser-used thoughts. I let the shadows take me because maybe they should have a long time ago and I was too scared to let them out of my veins, let the crack from my neck leak the demons and my trust. Don't let me be predisposed possibility, never so whole as seraphs and satanists, guided by singularity. My lives were revolutions, made up of weaker constitutions encapsulated, a prescription purpose that guides me past milligram monument men braver than I was, but already marble ghosts. Let me be the helpful dream, the stitcher of seams; it seems the tie is torn too much, the threads thrown astray like things lost in space, too tangled to discern the strongest way to reinforce the conclusion of my weakness. Let me be the used-to-be, the once-was boy who could never see. Blindness is a condition I accept willingly, and deafness with it, and warmth's retreat. Let me be cold, forgotten gold buried beneath a tombstone treasure map. Let me go.

35

Don't let me be acquaintance ancestry. Celestial bodies deny me peace, your sensitivities shielded by a moonlight sheet, picketed by skyscraper evidence markers. They died from lust for light, broken trust and fright. I'm looking for the inevitable morgue. I, malnourished of day, recede among the intangible tangents of lesser-used thoughts. I let the shadows take me because... they should have a long time ago and I was too scared to let them out of my veins, let the abstract crack on my neck leak demons and my trust. Don't let me be predetermined possibility, never so whole as seraphs and satanists, guided by singularity. My lives were revolutions, guided by weaker constitutions encapsulating a prescription purpose that tours me past milligram monument men, marble ghosts braver than I am. Let me be the helpful dream, the stitcher of seams; it seems the tie is torn too much, the threads too thrown astray, too tangled to discern the strongest chain, the strongest way to reinforce the conclusion of my weakness. Let me be the used-to-be, the once-was boy who could never see. Blindness is a condition I accept willingly, and deafness with it, and old warmth's retreat. Let me be cold, forgotten gold, less a frozen dawn than a synapse half-way gone buried down beneath a tombstone treasure map with an epitaph two decades long and footnote dates. I never liked dates, smoke breaks, moments that persist longer than they should, like I have.

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Mar 25, 2014

Mar 25, 2014 at 12:07 AM UTC

brendan-watch

Don't Let Me Be (Edited)

Don't let me be acquaintance ancestry. Celestial bodies deny me peace, your sensitivities shielded by a moonlight sheet, picketed by skyscraper evidence markers. They died from lust for light, broken trust and fright. I'm looking for the inevitable morgue. I, malnourished of day, recede among the intangible tangents of lesser-used thoughts. I let the shadows take me because... they should have a long time ago and I was too scared to let them out of my veins, let the abstract crack on my neck leak demons and my trust. Don't let me be predetermined possibility, never so whole as seraphs and satanists, guided by singularity. My lives were revolutions, guided by weaker constitutions encapsulating a prescription purpose that tours me past milligram monument men, marble ghosts braver than I am. Let me be the helpful dream, the stitcher of seams; it seems the tie is torn too much, the threads too thrown astray, too tangled to discern the strongest chain, the strongest way to reinforce the conclusion of my weakness. Let me be the used-to-be, the once-was boy who could never see. Blindness is a condition I accept willingly, and deafness with it, and old warmth's retreat. Let me be cold, forgotten gold, less a frozen dawn than a synapse half-way gone buried down beneath a tombstone treasure map with an epitaph two decades long and footnote dates. I never liked dates, smoke breaks, moments that persist longer than they should, like I have.

42

I Purity in its truest form Dancing above the waves and lilies Red, yellow, green Dots against soulful blues Nourished by the breeze itself II Ghostly on my shoulder Weighing the stones in my soul III The sun rests On a dragonfly’s scales It’s yawns are visible On the tips of its wings IV Prismatic dragon Scales ultraviolet Ancient Armored Safe V Aquatic prisoner Sheltered from air and light Waiting under the second sky VI An agent of the most meddlesome gods Messenger to the discouraged Reminder of grief Comforter to the lost VII Horse stinger Snake stitcher Devil’s friend I agree VIII Elusive secret keeper Whose ears are too far to whisper to Oh what breaths I would share IX Scientifically simple Spiritually overwhelming Good luck charm Or bad omen Depending on point of origin X Four iridescent wings Veined, sectioned Beating thirty times in a heartbeat Labor so strenuous For a spirit made of wind XI Ageless Mythic in both beauty and purpose A serpent in life Flight found only in rebirth Metamorphosis XII Returned friend Paused briefly on naked skin My questions unanswered The burn of death where four feet rested Have you found happiness? XIII The sun rises in the east The dragonfly stirs at death

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Jul 31, 2018

Jul 31, 2018 at 5:40 PM UTC

ranae

Thirteen Ways to See a Dragonfly

I Purity in its truest form Dancing above the waves and lilies Red, yellow, green Dots against soulful blues Nourished by the breeze itself II Ghostly on my shoulder Weighing the stones in my soul III The sun rests On a dragonfly’s scales It’s yawns are visible On the tips of its wings IV Prismatic dragon Scales ultraviolet Ancient Armored Safe V Aquatic prisoner Sheltered from air and light Waiting under the second sky VI An agent of the most meddlesome gods Messenger to the discouraged Reminder of grief Comforter to the lost VII Horse stinger Snake stitcher Devil’s friend I agree VIII Elusive secret keeper Whose ears are too far to whisper to Oh what breaths I would share IX Scientifically simple Spiritually overwhelming Good luck charm Or bad omen Depending on point of origin X Four iridescent wings Veined, sectioned Beating thirty times in a heartbeat Labor so strenuous For a spirit made of wind XI Ageless Mythic in both beauty and purpose A serpent in life Flight found only in rebirth Metamorphosis XII Returned friend Paused briefly on naked skin My questions unanswered The burn of death where four feet rested Have you found happiness? XIII The sun rises in the east The dragonfly stirs at death

65

all the memories i had, all the memories we had, in all the times we've been through, why are we still sad? the picture we took last summer, now it seems too far why do the feelings linger, if all they leave are scars? my feelings wound upon your finger, my happiness seems drowned, my self, oppressed, and my confidence, diminished. through my eye, the stitcher's sword, it halts to a finish, the final battle cry, pictureboard.

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May 3, 2017

May 3, 2017 at 1:46 AM UTC

skeetskeet

pictureboard

all the memories i had, all the memories we had, in all the times we've been through, why are we still sad? the picture we took last summer, now it seems too far why do the feelings linger, if all they leave are scars? my feelings wound upon your finger, my happiness seems drowned, my self, oppressed, and my confidence, diminished. through my eye, the stitcher's sword, it halts to a finish, the final battle cry, pictureboard.

17

Screens Internet chats Ipad games Stitcher Podcasts There are no people in my life Just screens............ Young Americans are tired of this Tired of being poor And not being able to meet anyone

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Jun 4, 2015

Jun 4, 2015 at 12:11 AM UTC

MattG

Wish I Had A Female Friend

Screens Internet chats Ipad games Stitcher Podcasts There are no people in my life Just screens............ Young Americans are tired of this Tired of being poor And not being able to meet anyone

10

The podcasts Spotify Stitcher Hello Poetry Youtube These are my friends now! Yes I love my computer Will my thoughts be uploaded to the cloud server?

0

Jan 16, 2015

Jan 16, 2015 at 9:46 PM UTC

MattG

Man and His Machine

The podcasts Spotify Stitcher Hello Poetry Youtube These are my friends now! Yes I love my computer Will my thoughts be uploaded to the cloud server?

8

A homeless person has to purchase 3 things. Among three which is more important confusing him. 1.A backside bag to full notebooks and other books. 2.Right leg sandal has been damaged. No need to buy new one. Just stitch it by shoe stitcher. 3.A two year cotton half pant has big size holes. Summer's hotness is coming . Old one can breathe properly. So old one is right.

0

Feb 12, 2019

Feb 12, 2019 at 11:38 AM UTC

inchol-poem

Bag Pant and Sandal

A homeless person has to purchase 3 things. Among three which is more important confusing him. 1.A backside bag to full notebooks and other books. 2.Right leg sandal has been damaged. No need to buy new one. Just stitch it by shoe stitcher. 3.A two year cotton half pant has big size holes. Summer's hotness is coming . Old one can breathe properly. So old one is right.

23