"topographic" poems - Hello Poetry

In the divet between mountains Resides a wooden cabin – ostensibly an amalgamation of the scape Adroitly - I - quondam female warrior flit Down massive (ancient) hand-laid, hand-cut carved stone steps Bounding from contingent step onto the dense pad of turned soil Tacit compliance between gravity and soil holds footprints bound A compressed deflating crescendo as pace ignites with bounds Cadences of protuberant wildflowers and grasses erupt from swollen terra A winsome chromatic menagerie, dispersed in ecstatic fistfuls A venerably ancient ritual My nascent clandestine vocation Personally meted out - a beatification for my provisional sanctuary Along glacier-fed stream Lissome fingers shadow inert stalks –plucking dormant beginnings from their desiccated ligaments I am austere and unadorned save for a festoon of pyrite flecks trailing my semblance Residual gilding from my ante-meridian swim taken after requisite gathering of wild blackberries, goose berries, and rhubarb along oft-tamped path The sun, nestling into its requisite apex endorsed my completion I reclined into the hassock of soil, feeling the elements settle about with an embossment of my form Imposing verdure arched subtly as compressed soil beckoned hyperbolic flux As I lay within the basilica of opulent living columns replete with comestible bounty Lingering dew honed inflections of sacrosanct petrichor in unison with piquant clover Wild purple clover buds saccharinely tinted and inundated nestled nerves in mine cribriform plate Birds pitched and galloped through the frond tips and beyond in the lapis expanse Frequently snatching damselfly’s and assemblages of midges from their ephemeral drift Auspicious rays transcended stippled diaphanous gravid clouds Light inundated ether entered humbly into the cathedral oculus Pyrite speckled terrain beneath, and my bare gilded form above Cast a refracted aura about my sanctuary Precipitously the elusive vaporous embankment distended further Ashen atmospheric correspondence inaugurated liquescent sustenance to my mountain abode And I - Lingered beneath the descending gobbets, curls furled in a puddle Fresh topsoil cupping my corporal topographic contours Pressing blackberries into my mouth between smiles

0

Jan 26, 2014

Jan 26, 2014 at 9:13 PM UTC

meagan-moore

Diaspora Vocation

In the divet between mountains Resides a wooden cabin – ostensibly an amalgamation of the scape Adroitly - I - quondam female warrior flit Down massive (ancient) hand-laid, hand-cut carved stone steps Bounding from contingent step onto the dense pad of turned soil Tacit compliance between gravity and soil holds footprints bound A compressed deflating crescendo as pace ignites with bounds Cadences of protuberant wildflowers and grasses erupt from swollen terra A winsome chromatic menagerie, dispersed in ecstatic fistfuls A venerably ancient ritual My nascent clandestine vocation Personally meted out - a beatification for my provisional sanctuary Along glacier-fed stream Lissome fingers shadow inert stalks –plucking dormant beginnings from their desiccated ligaments I am austere and unadorned save for a festoon of pyrite flecks trailing my semblance Residual gilding from my ante-meridian swim taken after requisite gathering of wild blackberries, goose berries, and rhubarb along oft-tamped path The sun, nestling into its requisite apex endorsed my completion I reclined into the hassock of soil, feeling the elements settle about with an embossment of my form Imposing verdure arched subtly as compressed soil beckoned hyperbolic flux As I lay within the basilica of opulent living columns replete with comestible bounty Lingering dew honed inflections of sacrosanct petrichor in unison with piquant clover Wild purple clover buds saccharinely tinted and inundated nestled nerves in mine cribriform plate Birds pitched and galloped through the frond tips and beyond in the lapis expanse Frequently snatching damselfly’s and assemblages of midges from their ephemeral drift Auspicious rays transcended stippled diaphanous gravid clouds Light inundated ether entered humbly into the cathedral oculus Pyrite speckled terrain beneath, and my bare gilded form above Cast a refracted aura about my sanctuary Precipitously the elusive vaporous embankment distended further Ashen atmospheric correspondence inaugurated liquescent sustenance to my mountain abode And I - Lingered beneath the descending gobbets, curls furled in a puddle Fresh topsoil cupping my corporal topographic contours Pressing blackberries into my mouth between smiles

34

i'm two traits converged into one messy finger painted paradox a disposition to do good, but i have maleficent intentions set in stone, my mind shows me how i look in the mirror but the threads of my body are like looking through a window, then again, who isn't wondering about the reality other people hide like a facade, cleverly subdued and sinking me in cold water until the ice is all i've ever known love is a difficult topographic setup, unable to be evened out inconsistant roads and treasonous dead ends bother me because it's potential to break my interior and exterior, but what do i matter? sticks and stones don't bother me, it's the words that break my bones and assist my architecture i carefully built along with my empire built from my bare hands to tumble haphazardly out of my reach, pulling these weights along my feet for some type of hope that things will finally become clear - kra

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Jan 7, 2014

Jan 7, 2014 at 10:39 PM UTC

screampoetry

benevolence/malevolence

i'm two traits converged into one messy finger painted paradox a disposition to do good, but i have maleficent intentions set in stone, my mind shows me how i look in the mirror but the threads of my body are like looking through a window, then again, who isn't wondering about the reality other people hide like a facade, cleverly subdued and sinking me in cold water until the ice is all i've ever known love is a difficult topographic setup, unable to be evened out inconsistant roads and treasonous dead ends bother me because it's potential to break my interior and exterior, but what do i matter? sticks and stones don't bother me, it's the words that break my bones and assist my architecture i carefully built along with my empire built from my bare hands to tumble haphazardly out of my reach, pulling these weights along my feet for some type of hope that things will finally become clear - kra

15

I – the girl you observe guilty pleasure marching through molten black torch ignited orbiting phantasms in the aphotic burning within corruption incinerated upon ingestion tucked behind your frame nestling ear lip grazing canal zest to soliloquy vivacious saccharine tone ruminating in the lilt of your tongue resting in gum scoop and jawbone (mandible) reserve adroit pivot humbled gaze locked exteroception engaged hard swallow pearls scooped catatonic atop lingering breast ascension prudent olfaction volatile cribriform annihilation ginger – basil - brine - ruminate etch of lace sailplaning flesh topographic aureate sunlight cresting soma intoned morning – essence of miasma

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Jan 26, 2014

Jan 26, 2014 at 8:45 PM UTC

meagan-moore

Ascent

I – the girl you observe guilty pleasure marching through molten black torch ignited orbiting phantasms in the aphotic burning within corruption incinerated upon ingestion tucked behind your frame nestling ear lip grazing canal zest to soliloquy vivacious saccharine tone ruminating in the lilt of your tongue resting in gum scoop and jawbone (mandible) reserve adroit pivot humbled gaze locked exteroception engaged hard swallow pearls scooped catatonic atop lingering breast ascension prudent olfaction volatile cribriform annihilation ginger – basil - brine - ruminate etch of lace sailplaning flesh topographic aureate sunlight cresting soma intoned morning – essence of miasma

28

Pixels weigh upon my opaque mind set The normal third tier of distance is not asserting its wicked face Never before has this scent wrung it self From a fugitives discarded clothing Dared to cross these topographic horrors Deep in the hands of some bewildered mongrel The evidence engulfs the ghastly thin walls To lose the branding Hannibal and his nomadic pursuit Would mean retreat to an empty cavern But With not even some flimsy novella? The currents and the basket weaving widows would not appease The Ernest clock of monstrous honesty Calls for us to depart This holding cell is still filled Deep with ticking heart valves How many times has this repeated? Were losing our grasp It’s been hours And without any thought devoid of mossy textures Chalk smears and ambitious plastic Dual neglected lives in this purgatory The ones that have been haunted They are boxed into some neurotic tri-valve machine It spits back the violent and the tardy Pleasing the populace is just not accessible today It is without any grass But this overly sensitive blanket that I touch I must venture to this foreign world of pleasantries Where cry shed over a dingy t-shirt And the slow desertion of the wilder beast will not be tolerated

0

Nov 30, 2010

Nov 30, 2010 at 9:20 AM UTC

sparkles-asparagus

Physical horror on a Tuesday

Pixels weigh upon my opaque mind set The normal third tier of distance is not asserting its wicked face Never before has this scent wrung it self From a fugitives discarded clothing Dared to cross these topographic horrors Deep in the hands of some bewildered mongrel The evidence engulfs the ghastly thin walls To lose the branding Hannibal and his nomadic pursuit Would mean retreat to an empty cavern But With not even some flimsy novella? The currents and the basket weaving widows would not appease The Ernest clock of monstrous honesty Calls for us to depart This holding cell is still filled Deep with ticking heart valves How many times has this repeated? Were losing our grasp It’s been hours And without any thought devoid of mossy textures Chalk smears and ambitious plastic Dual neglected lives in this purgatory The ones that have been haunted They are boxed into some neurotic tri-valve machine It spits back the violent and the tardy Pleasing the populace is just not accessible today It is without any grass But this overly sensitive blanket that I touch I must venture to this foreign world of pleasantries Where cry shed over a dingy t-shirt And the slow desertion of the wilder beast will not be tolerated

33

In my arms you become an ocean seeping into the topographic cracks of my body pooling along the coasts of our separate skins. I hold you as gently as a shell cups a pearl and float upon the current of your breaths. You become warm sand against my skin. I want to kiss every grain of your form and count its golden glints that catch light like the still pools of your eyes- the small brown island beneath your pupil into which I have disappeared nightly (like the moon), and emerged to see my own reflection made more beautiful by your love (like the sun). You are the paradise of my heart. The sun and moon of my soul. A window and a mirror through which the world unfolds.

0

Oct 26, 2012

Oct 26, 2012 at 6:25 PM UTC

kayla-marie-trotter

Some Metaphors (For You, My Love)

In my arms you become an ocean seeping into the topographic cracks of my body pooling along the coasts of our separate skins. I hold you as gently as a shell cups a pearl and float upon the current of your breaths. You become warm sand against my skin. I want to kiss every grain of your form and count its golden glints that catch light like the still pools of your eyes- the small brown island beneath your pupil into which I have disappeared nightly (like the moon), and emerged to see my own reflection made more beautiful by your love (like the sun). You are the paradise of my heart. The sun and moon of my soul. A window and a mirror through which the world unfolds.

17

The first time I saw you naked I felt like I had discovered an entire planet Uncovered the secrets of the universe in the curve of your hips You are a galaxy of a girl I had already seen the stars in your eyes But I had missed the constellations on your skin All the little craters like the moon Your body is a landscape The kind that the masters strive to paint With valleys and rolling hills Mountains and caverns And I'll explore you with sunset kisses Topographic touches I'll give you a bouquet of compass roses And let you know that you're my home

0

Feb 4, 2015

Feb 4, 2015 at 10:33 PM UTC

nothing-much

Body Comparitive

The first time I saw you naked I felt like I had discovered an entire planet Uncovered the secrets of the universe in the curve of your hips You are a galaxy of a girl I had already seen the stars in your eyes But I had missed the constellations on your skin All the little craters like the moon Your body is a landscape The kind that the masters strive to paint With valleys and rolling hills Mountains and caverns And I'll explore you with sunset kisses Topographic touches I'll give you a bouquet of compass roses And let you know that you're my home

15

(Land that doth marry mother lode of sublime earthen land and sea). Age of exploration ushered cruel fate against “red” men living in bliss by agents patch of eden north o Mason Dixon line latitude: 39.64839 longitude: -75.95591 alee perchance designed by divine providence with dyslexic humorous bents Cecil county Maryland lies like plump backward letter “e” witnessed topographic erosion pocked imprimatur marked meteorological dents thru inundation of oceanographic propensities melding coastline like Galilee in particular by Chesapeake Bay, that body of water abutting like natural fence first witnessed by captain John Smith in 1608 mistaking himself tong tied in sole of Italy learned faux pas, when crossing paths with Susquehannas hence, offered tobacco sticks to natives while recovering from injured wounded knee said other sundry tribes curiously eyed then (I utilized poetic license) took smoke from packet of Kents which twist on actual historical facts manipulated by me but more truthful account awash and replete with more than interspersed nonsense and incorporates tract situated in so called Fertile Crescent – see settled by Europeans of English stock, who emigrated with nary a pence “taming” shrew like “noble savages” plied Leviathan sized ukuleles whose might exploited for felling forests, which timber built cabins with vents.

0

Jun 5, 2018

Jun 5, 2018 at 7:17 PM UTC

matthew-scott-harris2p

Cecil County Maryland

(Land that doth marry mother lode of sublime earthen land and sea). Age of exploration ushered cruel fate against “red” men living in bliss by agents patch of eden north o Mason Dixon line latitude: 39.64839 longitude: -75.95591 alee perchance designed by divine providence with dyslexic humorous bents Cecil county Maryland lies like plump backward letter “e” witnessed topographic erosion pocked imprimatur marked meteorological dents thru inundation of oceanographic propensities melding coastline like Galilee in particular by Chesapeake Bay, that body of water abutting like natural fence first witnessed by captain John Smith in 1608 mistaking himself tong tied in sole of Italy learned faux pas, when crossing paths with Susquehannas hence, offered tobacco sticks to natives while recovering from injured wounded knee said other sundry tribes curiously eyed then (I utilized poetic license) took smoke from packet of Kents which twist on actual historical facts manipulated by me but more truthful account awash and replete with more than interspersed nonsense and incorporates tract situated in so called Fertile Crescent – see settled by Europeans of English stock, who emigrated with nary a pence “taming” shrew like “noble savages” plied Leviathan sized ukuleles whose might exploited for felling forests, which timber built cabins with vents.

49

sinister lback leaves fall atop all our beds roaming black currents ghost like and fervent brushing past a whisper in the morning dew light with white pale membranes last night insane past pushing for love past pushing for fame past pushing ofr words past pushing for hugs a million words to desicribe nothing at all two words to say everything at once a gift a loss a toss a boss that never paid their bills to the one up above that forgot that their last christmas was given to a flying dove fat and empty a rocking back and forth touched by insanity tounched by inevitiablity underneath the fast currents wrinkle time that is eternal a learner a teacher of the infernal Corrupt, the original, a blistering medieval all words and no play makes any ****** man or woman a dull and ****** boy devil is in us all and theres nothing but these four walls with the streets and the beats and corner store market meats the cell phones and the pads of "i" and the lingering dead dad's a plastered up postcard of an incoming and bleached fad fast and fattening and rough and tumbling and fresh upstairs we'll meet in the kitchen we'll eat Paris and its streets and lover's in heat wine pours down throats as king's lower moats a break from reality and a break from you and and a break from myself Oh lo' the world and all of its miseries What happened to the human mystery? I do not know or do not seem to know the answer, Floundering in a childish and electronically muttled despair, a black mist of feverishness pushing the popsicle stick to the top, friends old and new, new and old remember their first note, a clarinet plays itself as the washpan listens close, almost hearing their imaginations in unified float Topographic in science Matted down love notes Scribbled last words To a mother who swerved A pointed brow peaks its top from the crusty old box Pandora sighs calmly As she fastens the key inside the lock

0

Mar 20, 2011

Mar 20, 2011 at 9:43 PM UTC

ashby-brown

Untitled

sinister lback leaves fall atop all our beds roaming black currents ghost like and fervent brushing past a whisper in the morning dew light with white pale membranes last night insane past pushing for love past pushing for fame past pushing ofr words past pushing for hugs a million words to desicribe nothing at all two words to say everything at once a gift a loss a toss a boss that never paid their bills to the one up above that forgot that their last christmas was given to a flying dove fat and empty a rocking back and forth touched by insanity tounched by inevitiablity underneath the fast currents wrinkle time that is eternal a learner a teacher of the infernal Corrupt, the original, a blistering medieval all words and no play makes any ****** man or woman a dull and ****** boy devil is in us all and theres nothing but these four walls with the streets and the beats and corner store market meats the cell phones and the pads of "i" and the lingering dead dad's a plastered up postcard of an incoming and bleached fad fast and fattening and rough and tumbling and fresh upstairs we'll meet in the kitchen we'll eat Paris and its streets and lover's in heat wine pours down throats as king's lower moats a break from reality and a break from you and and a break from myself Oh lo' the world and all of its miseries What happened to the human mystery? I do not know or do not seem to know the answer, Floundering in a childish and electronically muttled despair, a black mist of feverishness pushing the popsicle stick to the top, friends old and new, new and old remember their first note, a clarinet plays itself as the washpan listens close, almost hearing their imaginations in unified float Topographic in science Matted down love notes Scribbled last words To a mother who swerved A pointed brow peaks its top from the crusty old box Pandora sighs calmly As she fastens the key inside the lock

57

My heart has become An eternity thread Sewing itself to various Shards of vibrant life Ive found within this world. My sorrows and joys Like hard earned stamps Sleeping in my passport to life As evidence to my heartaches. Each one is treasured dearly. My never ending scars Acting as a topographic map Across my young yet weary body Of which documents my travels. My mind is my legend. -ARI

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Jun 2, 2017

Jun 2, 2017 at 5:18 AM UTC

ari-3

Different Kind of Legend

My heart has become An eternity thread Sewing itself to various Shards of vibrant life Ive found within this world. My sorrows and joys Like hard earned stamps Sleeping in my passport to life As evidence to my heartaches. Each one is treasured dearly. My never ending scars Acting as a topographic map Across my young yet weary body Of which documents my travels. My mind is my legend. -ARI

16

No wonder each tickle is seismic There are mountains in your fingerprints Tiny topographic maps I want to sculpt a range of them All peaks, plateaus and lowest points All jades and pines and shades of you And epoxy brooks will pool Where swirls of myself etch the plaster For if I touch you, I thirst to water you I thirst to water you

0

Feb 21, 2020

Feb 21, 2020 at 2:23 AM UTC

saigeldred

after adjusting my axis to your atlas

No wonder each tickle is seismic There are mountains in your fingerprints Tiny topographic maps I want to sculpt a range of them All peaks, plateaus and lowest points All jades and pines and shades of you And epoxy brooks will pool Where swirls of myself etch the plaster For if I touch you, I thirst to water you I thirst to water you

11

the canyons you carved mains nues like cracked earth prend soin break cycles between ce qui est figé surfaces and heavy skin fixé pas coincé now leaves and has left seul à nouveau reconfigures my vision proving i never knew anything et je saurai encore moins me, i travel and pass past de l'eau qui se jette sur les bords du rocher she reminds me of me when i loved you

0

Aug 9, 2025

Aug 9, 2025 at 10:02 AM UTC

AntonellaBulcao

Topographic Skin

the canyons you carved mains nues like cracked earth prend soin break cycles between ce qui est figé surfaces and heavy skin fixé pas coincé now leaves and has left seul à nouveau reconfigures my vision proving i never knew anything et je saurai encore moins me, i travel and pass past de l'eau qui se jette sur les bords du rocher she reminds me of me when i loved you

18

Hear them sing, the comets Hung from gravity Flung among the trees delicately Reaching for you and me A congenital rotation of Time Topographic damage from the rhyme Of fingered activity, blame and climb The grist of Humanity; disease, ragtime We’ll meet again as the Boatman’s guests Our clothes wet from the ocean’s crest The shadows indicating our trip west From this world my heart I wrest

0

Jan 12, 2017

Jan 12, 2017 at 10:12 AM UTC

robert-c-ellis

Tides

Hear them sing, the comets Hung from gravity Flung among the trees delicately Reaching for you and me A congenital rotation of Time Topographic damage from the rhyme Of fingered activity, blame and climb The grist of Humanity; disease, ragtime We’ll meet again as the Boatman’s guests Our clothes wet from the ocean’s crest The shadows indicating our trip west From this world my heart I wrest

12

A sorcery of flying heels that extol porphyry that has gemstone wheels as topographic glance never enhance more than now this romance sweeter than yore in her parts of ****** desire ground in philosophy.

0

Jul 16, 2017

Jul 16, 2017 at 5:43 AM UTC

poetman

Philosophy

A sorcery of flying heels that extol porphyry that has gemstone wheels as topographic glance never enhance more than now this romance sweeter than yore in her parts of ****** desire ground in philosophy.

17