"terminologies" poems - Hello Poetry

Sitting on the empty stair steps, Pouring over a thousand of terminologies In highlighted photocopies of this thick, Hi. I know how quiet it is there, Away from the buzzing sounds Of the other students in the room. I know how you have to Focus, focus, focus So you chose the spot, [Maybe absentmindedly? Maybe not? (Sometimes I wanted to walk straight to you and ask)] Trying to rack your brains On what you crammed into it last night. I know you. That’s what I’m trying to say. I know you, not fully, not totally, never enough And maybe that’s a shame Or maybe that’s okay But I see you More often than not (It’s not destiny nor fate—just timing and space.) And I see myself, somehow, In you that when I pass by, whether up the stairs Or down, I can’t help but throw One last glance, One last look. It’s a vague mirror. I’ve seen the smiles you gave people: The polite-hello smile, The you’re-my-friend smile, The I-know-you-but-I’m-not-sure smile (etc.). I’ve seen how you walk over the cold tiled floor Like you can take the world, Although more humbly and Without much cruelty. I’ve seen the happiness in your smile When people throw you The look of recognition: They know you. You’re the smart one. You’re the scholar. You’re the overachiever. You’re the nice, all-around guy. You’re basically, the best. But I’ve also seen The split-second of the tiresome day Weighing down on your eyes. I’ve seen you stare off space, Looking like you wanted to run away. I’ve seen the pressure on your Blank face for only a second, a minute That your mask gave away. I want to tell you something. I want to tell you the things I can’t tell myself. I want to tell you the things I wanted to hear When things spin too fast out of my hand. I want to tell you, I know. I want to tell you that sometimes, It gets low. And when it gets low (Because it will get low and I know and I’m sorry), Hold on, okay? HOLD ON. I know you don’t know me Just as I don’t know you fully But promise me something, okay? Promise me, a nameless person, Speaking to you through a Typed message on paper, That you’ll hold on through The current that’s passing too strong, too fast. That you’ll move on forward When it gets haywire and foggy and weird. Because I see myself in you, (Although somewhat lesser) But unlike me, I know One day, You are going to be great. So hold on, Move on, Go straight through Because if you’ve reached the Lowest point in your life And no one puts their faith on you, Forget them. Forget them because This nameless person right here Knows the truth. I believe in you And I hope You’ll believe in me, too.

0

Sep 17, 2014

Sep 17, 2014 at 9:39 AM UTC

dianne

To the nameless guy in white—

Sitting on the empty stair steps, Pouring over a thousand of terminologies In highlighted photocopies of this thick, Hi. I know how quiet it is there, Away from the buzzing sounds Of the other students in the room. I know how you have to Focus, focus, focus So you chose the spot, [Maybe absentmindedly? Maybe not? (Sometimes I wanted to walk straight to you and ask)] Trying to rack your brains On what you crammed into it last night. I know you. That’s what I’m trying to say. I know you, not fully, not totally, never enough And maybe that’s a shame Or maybe that’s okay But I see you More often than not (It’s not destiny nor fate—just timing and space.) And I see myself, somehow, In you that when I pass by, whether up the stairs Or down, I can’t help but throw One last glance, One last look. It’s a vague mirror. I’ve seen the smiles you gave people: The polite-hello smile, The you’re-my-friend smile, The I-know-you-but-I’m-not-sure smile (etc.). I’ve seen how you walk over the cold tiled floor Like you can take the world, Although more humbly and Without much cruelty. I’ve seen the happiness in your smile When people throw you The look of recognition: They know you. You’re the smart one. You’re the scholar. You’re the overachiever. You’re the nice, all-around guy. You’re basically, the best. But I’ve also seen The split-second of the tiresome day Weighing down on your eyes. I’ve seen you stare off space, Looking like you wanted to run away. I’ve seen the pressure on your Blank face for only a second, a minute That your mask gave away. I want to tell you something. I want to tell you the things I can’t tell myself. I want to tell you the things I wanted to hear When things spin too fast out of my hand. I want to tell you, I know. I want to tell you that sometimes, It gets low. And when it gets low (Because it will get low and I know and I’m sorry), Hold on, okay? HOLD ON. I know you don’t know me Just as I don’t know you fully But promise me something, okay? Promise me, a nameless person, Speaking to you through a Typed message on paper, That you’ll hold on through The current that’s passing too strong, too fast. That you’ll move on forward When it gets haywire and foggy and weird. Because I see myself in you, (Although somewhat lesser) But unlike me, I know One day, You are going to be great. So hold on, Move on, Go straight through Because if you’ve reached the Lowest point in your life And no one puts their faith on you, Forget them. Forget them because This nameless person right here Knows the truth. I believe in you And I hope You’ll believe in me, too.

94

As he spoke words of wisdom, his voice lingers within me, so smooth, so touching, his lyrical abilities compared to one of a poet, so deep, so captivating yet so sincere. I ask God ‘Is this the finest of your creatures?’ Cuz’ never before have I seen such perfection in one. In my eyes he was an epitome of an angle, yet even more superior. The words he spoke were like forbidden breaths, never been spoke nor heard before. His words would flow in the air, entering every door, captivating every soul grasping every pole, not wanting to leave yet that force would not allow it remain. His bittersweet terminologies break down every perception, altering every intellect so epidemic, so rational; his flow plays within every heart with melodies of an electric guitar. He seemed omniscient. He was veracious. He was simply magnificent. And as the stars cast beyond the horizon, I remain hung upon the sensation, the sensation which clings upon my skin, so effortlessly it makes me wonder if I’m living a dream cuz never before have I felt something so beautiful. Yet I still remain astonished by his existence.

0

Jul 21, 2011

Jul 21, 2011 at 1:58 PM UTC

salooma-osman

Your Sincerely

As he spoke words of wisdom, his voice lingers within me, so smooth, so touching, his lyrical abilities compared to one of a poet, so deep, so captivating yet so sincere. I ask God ‘Is this the finest of your creatures?’ Cuz’ never before have I seen such perfection in one. In my eyes he was an epitome of an angle, yet even more superior. The words he spoke were like forbidden breaths, never been spoke nor heard before. His words would flow in the air, entering every door, captivating every soul grasping every pole, not wanting to leave yet that force would not allow it remain. His bittersweet terminologies break down every perception, altering every intellect so epidemic, so rational; his flow plays within every heart with melodies of an electric guitar. He seemed omniscient. He was veracious. He was simply magnificent. And as the stars cast beyond the horizon, I remain hung upon the sensation, the sensation which clings upon my skin, so effortlessly it makes me wonder if I’m living a dream cuz never before have I felt something so beautiful. Yet I still remain astonished by his existence.

7

some answers teach us that we have to ask in simple words but make the complex set of terminologies our broadest net the tool that's aptest for this ample task of abyssal exploring those who bask on the warm hills they who will never get how hard the job is whose feet are not wet they'll not discern the world behind the mask but on some morning when the mists depart those who go furthest out may well discern in the sharp moment of deepest desire the one thing missing to complete each heart at the right moment when the waters burn with the clear light of universal fire

0

Apr 18, 2013

Apr 18, 2013 at 1:33 PM UTC

fragano-ledgister

when the waters burn

some answers teach us that we have to ask in simple words but make the complex set of terminologies our broadest net the tool that's aptest for this ample task of abyssal exploring those who bask on the warm hills they who will never get how hard the job is whose feet are not wet they'll not discern the world behind the mask but on some morning when the mists depart those who go furthest out may well discern in the sharp moment of deepest desire the one thing missing to complete each heart at the right moment when the waters burn with the clear light of universal fire

14

Sunset a wonderful scene to unfold, A sonnet given for it to be told, The beauty that lavishes upon skies, Hues and colors liveth as a surprise. Mysteries, hidden, as it's life suffice, Wonders and oddity might seem to rise, Imagination does not limit nights, But creates memories that will not fly. As if a sonnet was meant to carry, A message's prelude in a hurry, Riddled with thoughts and terminologies, Hidden, and cannot be seen by many. Someday that sunset can set my soul free, As it continues life's never ending journey.

0

Sep 27, 2019

Sep 27, 2019 at 12:15 PM UTC

sophiaadina

A Sonnet for Sunset

Sunset a wonderful scene to unfold, A sonnet given for it to be told, The beauty that lavishes upon skies, Hues and colors liveth as a surprise. Mysteries, hidden, as it's life suffice, Wonders and oddity might seem to rise, Imagination does not limit nights, But creates memories that will not fly. As if a sonnet was meant to carry, A message's prelude in a hurry, Riddled with thoughts and terminologies, Hidden, and cannot be seen by many. Someday that sunset can set my soul free, As it continues life's never ending journey.

14