"supernovae" poems
................A gaping
written curse... black hole
of a mere in my
the vacuum space time
put out by continuum...
Flames Tearing a
supernovae... huge rift
of stellar in my very
fireworks universe...
Cataclysmic
.
Nov 8, 2014
Nov 8, 2014 at 9:11 AM UTC
there is stardust in your veins
galaxies drift through your blood
supernovae accompany your heartbeats
and similarly to the stars in the sky
you stay hidden during the day
but at night, when you're at peace
you shine brightly,
with blinding force
I am forced to observe from a distance
much like the dwarfs in space
because you have placed yourself
millions of miles away
millions of miles out of reach
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 1:17 PM UTC
Crawl crawl
Burning through
Obsessions
Rotten stew
Crawl crawl
Through the pain
Remission
Is a joke
And life was a game
But is a remainder
of screwups and screwdowns
Crawl Crawl
Burning through
Possessions
Deadbeat crew
Crawl crawl
Forgotten stains
Permission
Is always denied
And rebuttals dumped
In trash cans full
of screwups and screwdowns
Drilling a hole
Finding geodes where a core was
Cold and dark and empty
Drilling a hole
Finding loneliness inside
It is who you are
Extinguished supernovae
Could have contained
And still the darkness would have stayed
Crawl crawl
burning through
your house of cards
melting all definitions
You're a screwup
Still alive
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 12:54 PM UTC
We're stardust, you and I.
The iron and calcium and magnesium
in the [stars], collide
within and beneath skin and bones;
and I've never felt—saw—myself alone
when I see the galaxy in your eyes.
We're electric, you and I.
The protons and neutrons and electrons
dance and [fade] into a trance
when our lips first sealed;
the first kiss—electric—wrecked on
the idea of bad good-byes.
We're thunderstorms, you and I.
The heat and the pressure and the cold
form tornadoes [slowly], thrashing
the home we built in our hearts;
and I've never felt—myself—more alone,
more paralyzed watching you cry.
We're supernovae, you and I.
The explosions and light and blackness
consume all matter [away], leaving
nothing in our souls—left—nothing
but the stardust in you and I.
May 6, 2017
May 6, 2017 at 5:13 AM UTC
Two ancient eagles often meet
free and high, celebration dancing our death spiral or mating dance.
Flying over this weeping willow forest lands we found
Our white willow tree bark healing properties own
salicylic acid relieving pains and inflammations.
Our beautiful pendular branches, the weeping willow trees of us, symbols of fertility are; out willow trees grow best by side roads by body of water rivers lakes, or ponds. And us special eagles, mate by the sea.
And like us our willows of life attract scary snakes, but also birds bees butterflies, cocoons moths many diverse birds make a home in us. Our willow trees seem to hide a fertil sadness within.
In our roots, creatures find habitat restauration erosion control and perfect ******** growth of 6 to 8 inches length.
Our willow trees filter poisons grows quickly and live longer with a human touch like ours.
Our weeping willow tree established root systems decontaminating water and soil.
Raindrops drip down our leaves. My weeping is called pillow P****y willow tree.
When our weeping tree grows largest it casts a grave size shadow and a family member goes supernovae or so it's written.
Thank you my weeping willow tree, sweet poet mine for placing baby blankets under our weeping willow tree.
Your invitation uncovered accepted loved and cherished eternally.
To the one poet Sonnet 75 my
True love, this one honors the day my smile captured thine heart, my weeping willow my everything beloved.
~~~
Inspired by a tree of life planted in my honor once upon a time.
~~~
By: Mr And Mrs Andrews
Dec 16, 2023
Dec 16, 2023 at 1:57 AM UTC
Love, I see the infinite universe
in all that you are:
trillions of planets
that circle the billions of stars
among icy, white comets,
and dark, grey moons;
Nebulae, supernovae
and all their gorgeous hues;
the greens, the pinks,
the violet, orange, and blue,
in the multitude of galaxies
through outer space strewn.
Your immense gravity
draws me to you.
Darling, some might say
God's greatest work of art
is this awesome place,
but it's you and your heart.
With divine purpose,
He exploded countless stars,
eons ago,
which formed the earth where we are,
then molded you one day,
His most magnificent sculpture,
from its willing clay.
His most impressive painting:
the landscapes of your body
and soft colors brushed upon.
His most majestic song:
your enchanting voice and laugh
for which my damaged ears long.
You're the most intricate symphony;
the grandest, most striking tune
played upon the infinitesimal strings
He used to create you.
Love, just like the infinite universe,
no words can adequately describe
your vast beauty, it can only be understood
in the soul and not the mind.
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 1:08 PM UTC
Where does solitude end
And the beauty of love begin?
We must allow our emotions to permeate
Our spiritual vestibule
Before rapture dawns
Like an empyreal gust
Within, upon, and throughout us,
Then our bliss will no longer be ephemeral,
It will be everlasting.
Someone on this existential expanse
Loves you
Beyond words, Beyond thoughts, beyond
Time & space,
With cosmic understanding;
Like, age-old supernovae
Radiating with stellar light
Until their macrocosmic romance
Waxes nebulous:
—Dust to dust.
You who are gleaning these words,
Contemplate your immortal value
As a living legacy
That Burgeons & blossoms beyond the day
Of your exodus from the Earthly Plane
For the soul is a seed
Radiating with the Eradia of Ages;
Therefore, shine
Until The Flora of Yore, Yggdrasil germinates within.
Lamentation makes you more loving,
Just, wise, and strong;
Yes, embrace every moment
That life brings
For Providence safeguards you
Within His Celestial ramparts.
"But the path of the righteous is like the bright morning light
That grows brighter and brighter until full daylight."
(Proverbs 4: 18) (NWTSE)
You have an undying will within you,
You are a vessel of sanctity
Intemerate & hallowed;
Yes, you have been set apart
For an ethereal crusade
With no known beginning &
An indeterminable end;
Exhale, you are Life, Love, and Liberty,
And a Spark of The Divine.
It is true, that you are the experiencer of
Your joys, your sufferings,
Your exultation, and your woes,
But you must ne' er forget
That you are not alone;
Therefore, walk forevermore
In the Baptismal Rays of The Sun
For you were borne with purpose,
O, Warrior of Light.
Jun 4, 2021
Jun 4, 2021 at 1:48 PM UTC
i was born in a ghost hospital
a pile of stones and then a blank slate
with new antiseptic rooms
invisible blood-stained linoleum
and the sound of rubber tennis shoe soles
replacing the place where
i was born with dying stars in my eyes
and supernovae bursting with the
last of their fiery energy before they
blink out of existence
like the hospital where i was born
am i now to be a woman
without true north
a single brick from the single place
where i respired freely and
crisp breaths of truth passed
like whispers over my wordless lips
before the oozing obsidian night
slowly crept up and
wrapped itself around me like
a flea infested blanket
and the blinding white light
of a growing chain reaction
a deafening ring in my ears
nothing
then slow realization that
i'm still alive
battered by beta particles
attacked by alphas
and i'm alone in the nuclear winter
to trek towards my kaaba
the only piece of
where i came into the world
and was the baby girl that
my parents cradled in their
awkward hesitant arms
the little angel my father thought
would certainly break
into a million pieces by the slightest breath of wind
and scatter to heaven
for where else should such innocence be?
i yearn for that brick
from my hospital
because its foundation was built
on something apart
from eating disorders
bipolar disorder
suicide attempts
neat lines of cuts in various stages of healing
when i hold that stone in my hand
residual sand from the
demolition site crumbling
as i turn the cement over
and over
its warmth and weight so real in my hand
that i can see a dim light in a window
a glowing blonde kissing
her black haired beau
and the baby in her arms
theirs
even just for that night.
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 12:52 AM UTC
The "dark planet" it's called
because a stars light can't reflect
a single atom of brightness
visible to the eye.
Suspended in space
light years and light years away
an entire new world
with a blackened sky.
A human hand can't touch
a surface too hot for clouds,
that swims beneath supernovae,
absorbing the potential of sunrise.
The journey would pass through
the Pillars of Creation
around Sirius and Betelgeuse
and Proxima Centuri.
If I could explore
many a glittering nebulae,
with Sagittarius I could speculate
and with comets could I pry.
But on a marble's where we've thrived,
and speculated a silver rock,
why not look deeper to the veil of explosion
And, with that, the wonders that colour our sky?
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 7:14 PM UTC
We seek another Mother Earth,
Another Planet Plenty:
A World within a Goldilocks Zone,
Snuggled up
Where everything’s just right.
Out there we gaze,
High in the sky,
Up amongst those swirling nebulae.
See those galaxies twirl,
As gas-clouds spawn new stars.
Supernovae die
To be reborn
As clouds of suns
And Planets.
Countless Billions of Worlds
All waiting
To be explored.
Paul Butters
Sep 9, 2012
Sep 9, 2012 at 10:15 AM UTC
how might my reality be redefined
by slipping furtively
like a hapless lover
disentangling midnight sheets
fleeing past pathways of my own psyche
to see the view from her mind’s balcony
to inhabit intergalactic eyes
sparkling and shining like supernovae
every time she parts scarlet lips
in defense of the helpless
i'd plant gardens inside her irises
water the seeds and invite the bees
to pollinate fresh thoughts and rejuvenate
an energy that could illuminate new theories
about the cosmos and its inhabitants
i want to dwell within
corridors of infinite imagination
bridge the synaptic gaps
across rivers of lapsing memories
a lackadaisical adventurer
adrift in neurological galaxies
ingesting erudite insight
i yearn to build a home
inside the mind
of a poet
an activist
and a bona fide genius
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 12:04 AM UTC
It may be that you were an astronaut before
And now you clamber unknown chambers of my heart,
Knocking down the tilt-up walls
To find the inner space of your reservoir
And your oxygen; my bloodstream
My heart; your pulsar beating out cosmic revelations
My future; framed by your unblinking past
Terminal comets tumble alongside
Undisturbing of the velocity of your experiment
Exploding suns in supernovae spin-cycles
Left your scientific mood untouched
The last horizon, my need for security
Has been hitched to your superior fuselage
Now we float together, at the end of a single lifeline
I breathe out as you breathe in
A symbiotic bellows, in perfection geared
Neither of us make a move
Except we go in the same instant of direction
This must be what heaven feels like
At the end of time and acceleration,
Facing the unknowns inherent in the expedition
There were never any promises made,
Discovering the wonders and terrors of deep space
And at the finish of my hibernation,
I awaken to explore a mysterious new portal:
Held open for me, an orbital doorway
In galactic eyes of bluest heaven-shine
Which will stir the primordial chaos of my existence.
Mar 22, 2010
Mar 22, 2010 at 1:25 PM UTC
The stars fallen
on the still water plane
of the lake
dreaming the sky every minute,
sizzle,
like the effect of cooling,
smile to themselves
thinking about the amazing
translocation,
from the foaming rapids of milky way
to placid dark waters deep down,
from an illusion of light years
to another, of transient reflection.
lie still for a while
taking stock of things:
isn't the real on the same level
of what we count imaginary?
when--
all the fish from secret depths
shoal after shoal after shoal
curious about the newly arrived
lightening bugs, that pulsate,
try to get closer,
propelling themselves
through water
like torpedoes sensing targets
wanting to gobble up
the whole galaxy,along with supernovae and black holes
thinking. "for us these planktons are an easy game
now right here, in our sanctuary,when we are starving"
stars, like frenzied school kids
after the last long bell
swim helter-skelter, ride
the unruly waves,
try to make it to the shore
but find dissolving altogether
was what was written on the book.
Anyway it's a"LILA"
a cosmic game illusory
all a grand opera in which
*Shakti and Shiva play
transformation game.
But the big fish
ruling cosmic space
with appetite voracious,
moves across galaxies,
crossing light years in a flash,
obliterating whatever is the matter
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 11:14 AM UTC
*In the gravityless field
Like a dusty bursting cloud
We begin
In the southern Milky Way
You decide to collapse with my day
In a binary pair system
You and I go astray
In a distance within a cluster
We gravitate in a mutual orbit
With wrongdoing and rightdoing we linger
But the fire decides to stay
As our heat moves outward
Our hidden affair expands
We use up all our love fuel
Like a high star mass we explode
A supernovae self destroyed
Leaving a neutron star to our end*
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 5:55 PM UTC
Chronology Dynamo(Cogwheel Goddess)
Excogitation; twiddling my thumbs…
My eyes are glued to the soil beneath me; I shall sink into the mud.
The winds embrace my untimely surge of vain equations.
My metacarpals have contorted; supplication exhausts my soul.
“You my Goddess, who I look to for Time, yes Time and solace“.
“Thou shall not reveal to me vicissitudes of vernal decay”
“When shall the Great Harvest arrive?”
“I ask myself this oh Mother of Divine Infinity; Scythe of Era in the hands of thou.”
-When-
-When shall my flowering forth arrive from aegis wings?-
I sweat; I bleed; I murmur; I fade; I glow; “now what am I?”
Translucent in skin; hollow to the core; dying to warp through dimensions; lithe like a sylph.
Her diadem is one of metallic gears and bejeweled bolts; a Manufactured Diety of the Glorious Space and Time.
Her blade of mascara beautifies those who gaze upon her luminous needle lashes;
Her apparel that of disassembled clocks.
The sand of the hourglass composes her tears and blood; she bleeds out every second of wasted chronology.
Her corona is iridescent and she is one with The Universe.
“Ye shall not waste Time, yes, Time, for it is the essence to all things that are and all things that are not!”
She speaks to me as the nebulae around her glimmer, adorned with supernovae creating a phantasmagorical and celestial overload.
My eyes are clocked with sensory overload; so many colors and luminous neon lights.
“Before the collapse of Mother Earth; the Liminal Sphere, you must feed the Galaxies with the brilliance of your heart.”
-When the rivers of time run dry-
-Act-
-Do Not Wait…-
By Sanders M. Foulke III
Mar 30, 2012
Mar 30, 2012 at 3:50 AM UTC
His eyes blue green
His body Roddy
His hands distinctive
Arms strongest than pillars of marble
His hair reddish blonde
His manners unforgettable
His smile stunning
His private vessel redish too
His feet huge
His Adam leaf just right
His ancestry Irish
His heart pure gold
His soul my own
His twin soul twin flame
my very own
His voice strong masculine deep.
Soprano.
His passion wet a stallion perfectly shaped all rapture is
My voice his soprano pride
My thighs his madness
His anger his silence I fall in love.
His true loving heart my own.
His physic athletic muscular HE- MAN type body
His hight 5'8
His wealth my own
His jewels my children
His diamonds my tears my tears his diamonds his Rubies his poems.
His sonnet 75 his treasures buried for me to know his love is true
His heartbreak my own
His goals my own
His first love is me
His love making supernovae
My smile his 20 million hurried loot worth fame and great fortune.
My Knight my all
My sheikh my king of hearts
My body his pleasure his desire
My hair dark ashy moon glow over cedar- brown
My eyes vitreous reflecting colors of nature, starry looking eyes
My voice his soprano pride
My thighs his madness
My DNA his own
My height 5'4
My feet 8-1/2-9
My heart of gold his own.
My talent his own
My joy and happiness
my own
My song his delight his lyric rights
My first love him patpat
My love.
Our marriage license sleeps.
Our book; We are the authors
of our own lives and destiny..
What Dreams may come
Gone with the wind
Message in a bottle.
E. T. Phone home.
Scarlett letter A
Countless written memories.
.
Favorite places stargazing under the stars.
Boat rides waves rocking our love away.
Lover is PatRk imaginary ancient
True love.My E T.
Knight yes one King of hearts RD-present here soon.
~~~
By: Karijinbba, all rights.
Dec 25, 2023
Dec 25, 2023 at 7:09 AM UTC
Memories left by supernovae
Beautiful, colorful
Names like Cassiopeia
Calvera
I fell to your surface
And my matter was rendered almost instantly
Into my surroundings
And we became one
I can tell that I can't leave
I can't reach escape velocity
Half the speed of light
Unfathomable
I am here forevermore
But at least
Your micrometer-thick atmosphere should
Last me a good, long time.
Jul 10, 2017
Jul 10, 2017 at 1:36 PM UTC
Are we but dream junkies
And all the stars that trail,
In the gloams of milky ways,
But empty islands more for us,
Golden archipelagoes, baubles
Ringing, rounding out heavens'
Wreathing, oceans, nil vastness
To fixate upon from whence we
Once were, by souls' fashioning,
Airy and unrealistic as dear fools'
Child-minded convictions, fables,
Foetal, in smoky amniotic aethers,
Wisps of matter to see unlocked,
Unchained from sparks of nothing,
Wide eyed as supernovae in voids,
As light injects into us such purpose,
Imaginations so neatly dreamed upon,
Once and for all, stories bound in sleepy
Times, or tis more our sole, sun, but one
Dim light in all these unsettled sparklings,
A tapestry which etches our righting eyes,
Into sandy itchings, spiral notches, grains
Ticking us eternal to vested lime beds waiting,
Are we sunk in drunkeness by the overheaded
Skies, fumbling about, numbed, slumbered
In soul rummages?
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 7:57 PM UTC
O lover
Sharing that supernovae space with you
Led me to a mischievous sleep which is
both hard to fall in and even harder
to wake up from.
but to your chirpy noise,
I flutter my eyes to catch
a clear glimpse of you,and I find
you,in front of me,smelling of
jasmine,and the
blossom of your
lips compel me to extract
all its sweet juices and now
I find myself
staring at you,and then your
face close to me,while I enjoy
the touch of your
heavy breathing,
you surface the velocity
of my hefty heartbeats.
To which you chuckle,
your crooked teeth smiling through,
and the crinkles on your nose make
a beautiful pattern,
your cheeks crimson red,
and after a long span of seconds,
I finally catch my breath again
and I heavily blink,
opening up to see that
you were,well,
GONE .
{this is a fictional piece by umm me, and this is written with the perspective of a man for her lady muse}
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 6:16 AM UTC
I tell him that three of his freckles disappeared today and that I can’t help but notice that his eye twitches twice before he falls asleep.
He sometimes wakes up to an empty bed at 2 in the morning. It is not because I can’t feel comfortable with his legs tangled in mine but, because I found the sight of not knowing where my body ended and his began so poetic.
Some days, I feel as if I’m living life in the shadows. Always noticing but never seen, are words supposed to scream this loud?
He says that when we kiss, he has to dust the commas and colons off of my eyelid and that he repeats his sentences four times because he knows that during the first I was catching a thought, preventing it from flying away and that when he speaks for the second I’m trying to take notice of the exact degree he tilts his head and that by the third I’ve already crafted a stanza about the way he licks his lips in the cold.
I tell myself that I will not carry a pen wherever I go, but it doesn’t matter because on certain days, even my bone marrow writes poetry about the cells dying and being born in my blood – supernovae of molecule scale.
My brother tells me that my quadratic equations are written in limerick form and that he does not know why I’m taking Calculus and Statistics if I already know a formula for the perfect novel.
The truth is, I don’t know why I notice the way my love wrings his hands twice when I ask him where he’s been – is that lavender I smell?
I know that he tells me the truth, but the other voice in my head can’t help but make me ask him why he drank his coffee with milk instead of creamer today.
He tells me that he loves me by holding me far too tight when I’m sad, so that he can crush the blue out of me and by barely touching me when I’m happy, afraid that he’ll break my spirits, he knows that my pink is a Porcelain Doll – fragile.
He doesn’t use any words, and for once, this is enough for me.
Nov 21, 2016
Nov 21, 2016 at 5:13 AM UTC
Have you ever seen a smile
that made you turn away with glee
have you ever felt a face so close
eyes contacting
like a particle collision.
This will end in a heavy mess, and yet -
a portrait with such warmth.
radiating in a such a way star beams envy it's smirk.
and supernovae would **** for the smile.
when you look at me I know
I'm here
I'm real
I'm alive
These thoughts bring tiny Heat deaths to my chest
expanding forever
I might never exhale, if only to draw in the moment
and die with it inside me.
but, I won't
superfluous words merely orbit my skull
with a stronger gravity
pulling them further from you
tearing chucks of me elsewhere
until eventually your warm glow, is merely
a scintillation
Dec 24, 2020
Dec 24, 2020 at 11:45 AM UTC
I never thought I'd get to see the stars up close, but as we lay here in my car, her arms wrapped around mine, our tired souls entwined like the Big and Little Dipper, I can't help but look out the window and feel like I'm holding the universe in my arms. Have I ever told you about how her brown eyes shine brighter than any sun? Or how supernovae can't compare to the explosions that race down my skin when we touch. It makes me think of all the black holes that exist and how her smile was the one I got pulled into. As I'm writing this - she's tracing constellations onto my arm while she fades off to sleep. And here I sit, between her and the stars, yet I can't help but feel that I'm holding the universe in my arms.
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 7:51 PM UTC
Are we but dream junkies
And all the stars that trail,
In the gloams of milky ways,
But empty islands more for us,
Golden archipelagoes, baubles
Ringing, rounding out heavens'
Wreathing, oceans, nil vastness
To fixate upon from whence we
Once were, by souls' fashioning,
Airy and unrealistic as dear fools'
Child-minded convictions, fables,
Fetal, in smoky amniotic aethers,
Wisps of matter to see unlocked,
Unchained from sparks of nothing,
Wide eyed as supernovae in voids,
As light injects into us such purpose,
Imaginations so neatly dreamed upon,
Once and for all, stories bound in sleepy
Times, or tis more our sole, sun, but one
Dim light in all these unsettled sparklings,
A tapestry which etches our righting eyes,
Into sandy itchings, spiral notches, grains
Ticking us eternal to vested lime beds waiting,
Are we sunk in drunkeness by the overheaded
Skies, fumbling about, numbed,
In soul rummages?
Oct 4, 2015
Oct 4, 2015 at 5:06 PM UTC
my parietal lobe is home to a phoenix
and each time i awaken in thought,
he burns brighter than type II supernovae,
littering vitalizing ash throughout
the entirety of my internal,
over incongruous cobblestones
and grooved floorboards
bearing all the signatures
and singed residue of rebirth.
-
the ashes multiply and collect
filling me gaunt with each muse lost,
and fifty times the sun is just enough
for him to wither into a black hole,
rendering my mind little more
than an event horizon,
and my life little more
than an expression
denoting eventuality.
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 11:06 AM UTC