"suffixed" poems - Hello Poetry

all the envelopes in all the worlds will never be enough to carry my love letters letters with headers that would be better read dear lover number 1,2, or 3 but the dears are really never suffixed by numbers because the names that correspond to them mean more than all of their sum and fill up too many pages than I can count to and some pages the number I can’t read at all because I bare down too hard with my pen and the ink seeps down onto the next letter I have to write making page 76 look like page 48 and the periods at the end of sentences look like misplaced and blurry hearts it doesn’t help that I write in red and that I only love a certain shade it doesn’t help that I am broke and I can’t afford ink but rubber band are always on sale and I can wrap them tight around my throbbing veins to pump out the most velvet red hue at the lowest price but when my blood starts to bottom out I stop writing and I start kissing the next boy who makes my heart beat out more and more words to write with. Another number to start off a letter with. Dear number 5, I’m sorry about your head but you shouldn’t Have under judged my right hook Dear number 7, don’t worry my body’s finally absorbed those bruises Dear number 1, I wish you could have seen me naked I wish It was still possible for you to see me naked. To cut off all my rubber bands And to burn all my stationary Because you need to be greedy And you need to use all the envelopes in all of the worlds To write letters for me.

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Oct 2, 2012

Oct 2, 2012 at 7:44 PM UTC

hayley-neininger

Letters Never Fit In Envelopes.

all the envelopes in all the worlds will never be enough to carry my love letters letters with headers that would be better read dear lover number 1,2, or 3 but the dears are really never suffixed by numbers because the names that correspond to them mean more than all of their sum and fill up too many pages than I can count to and some pages the number I can’t read at all because I bare down too hard with my pen and the ink seeps down onto the next letter I have to write making page 76 look like page 48 and the periods at the end of sentences look like misplaced and blurry hearts it doesn’t help that I write in red and that I only love a certain shade it doesn’t help that I am broke and I can’t afford ink but rubber band are always on sale and I can wrap them tight around my throbbing veins to pump out the most velvet red hue at the lowest price but when my blood starts to bottom out I stop writing and I start kissing the next boy who makes my heart beat out more and more words to write with. Another number to start off a letter with. Dear number 5, I’m sorry about your head but you shouldn’t Have under judged my right hook Dear number 7, don’t worry my body’s finally absorbed those bruises Dear number 1, I wish you could have seen me naked I wish It was still possible for you to see me naked. To cut off all my rubber bands And to burn all my stationary Because you need to be greedy And you need to use all the envelopes in all of the worlds To write letters for me.

37

Perpetuousity of Motive is a need, not everlasting but maintained by highest virtue or a desire that is lacking-- a kind word, halved and suffixed with an E D tame paliative of meaning reminds us all that time's not one, but rather two things: we reach out for it and Sense it, but with our mind it is reborn like each and every thought and deed's encased in placenta unshorn-- the mind that holds the key to life rotates what is worn and evens out the treads below the tires as we soar; that is, time is body, time is mind. Two things in one. More importantly and with impetus: time IS What has Become. Time is ending and beginning, hence your time is old yet young.

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Oct 16, 2011

Oct 16, 2011 at 11:23 PM UTC

sansara-justinovich

E D

Perpetuousity of Motive is a need, not everlasting but maintained by highest virtue or a desire that is lacking-- a kind word, halved and suffixed with an E D tame paliative of meaning reminds us all that time's not one, but rather two things: we reach out for it and Sense it, but with our mind it is reborn like each and every thought and deed's encased in placenta unshorn-- the mind that holds the key to life rotates what is worn and evens out the treads below the tires as we soar; that is, time is body, time is mind. Two things in one. More importantly and with impetus: time IS What has Become. Time is ending and beginning, hence your time is old yet young.

21

- You gave me in the shining image raw with Water, claws and streaming head - That oblate crunch of teeth Set in a grin that lives and dies with all our rivers. Loving on the run, You keep your red blood rapture close: Defiant body heat Amongst the Winter reeds and ******* eddies Lit with bone white moons coldly Whispering to the quaking weak 'you..and you - you will not see the Spring...' But YOU - You will You've got it sorted you have - YOU! And I know about your Previous - Oh yes, Sunshine, the list goes on: That already-landed trout, The picnic scraps, The soggy **** (a shock they were!) The little girl in daddy's boat Who so wanted you for home and comfort... But you love and leave them all YOU do. Hey! Come back here! I've got more questions to… But you've gone of course - A bark, a twist, a finger (if you had one) to the bleary world. Taking your pagan grace to depths we cannot see. The Celtic torq of crystal bubbles track Your ancient underwater poetry and poise This artist's camera lightly saves. And me? My hopeful words: a suffixed flap Of flattened gestures; While slim you slip away To snap your life on Life, Salvaging the Sun For Spring, For us.

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Feb 4, 2010

Feb 4, 2010 at 10:07 PM UTC

jeremy-ducane

Wotta Lotta Otta

- You gave me in the shining image raw with Water, claws and streaming head - That oblate crunch of teeth Set in a grin that lives and dies with all our rivers. Loving on the run, You keep your red blood rapture close: Defiant body heat Amongst the Winter reeds and ******* eddies Lit with bone white moons coldly Whispering to the quaking weak 'you..and you - you will not see the Spring...' But YOU - You will You've got it sorted you have - YOU! And I know about your Previous - Oh yes, Sunshine, the list goes on: That already-landed trout, The picnic scraps, The soggy **** (a shock they were!) The little girl in daddy's boat Who so wanted you for home and comfort... But you love and leave them all YOU do. Hey! Come back here! I've got more questions to… But you've gone of course - A bark, a twist, a finger (if you had one) to the bleary world. Taking your pagan grace to depths we cannot see. The Celtic torq of crystal bubbles track Your ancient underwater poetry and poise This artist's camera lightly saves. And me? My hopeful words: a suffixed flap Of flattened gestures; While slim you slip away To snap your life on Life, Salvaging the Sun For Spring, For us.

36

I look at the bottle suffixed -light At how the depth of space inside it consumes deeper down While the night grows fuller we fill ourselves of drinks stronger With the kick of throat burning liquor Of the stomach heating acid from the brandy we'd enjoy to empty.

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Jan 5, 2016

Jan 5, 2016 at 7:20 PM UTC

japoy-laluna

Drink

I look at the bottle suffixed -light At how the depth of space inside it consumes deeper down While the night grows fuller we fill ourselves of drinks stronger With the kick of throat burning liquor Of the stomach heating acid from the brandy we'd enjoy to empty.

6

Formal education, requires a fence With borders to confine, and logic intense Three letters that matter, the I, S, and M Each school suffixed over, its member’s defend Realism, Rationalism, Idealism all… Each name its own failing, as verity calls True thought has no class or Academie named It stands on its own, the truth its sole claim With knowledge in conflict, the days turn to night Academia’s lantern —burned out in the fight (Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)

0

Apr 24, 2019

Apr 24, 2019 at 10:38 PM UTC

kurt-philip-behm

Academia's Lantern

Formal education, requires a fence With borders to confine, and logic intense Three letters that matter, the I, S, and M Each school suffixed over, its member’s defend Realism, Rationalism, Idealism all… Each name its own failing, as verity calls True thought has no class or Academie named It stands on its own, the truth its sole claim With knowledge in conflict, the days turn to night Academia’s lantern —burned out in the fight (Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)

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