"trodded" poems - Hello Poetry

**A Unique Sight To See Are Summer Birds Sitting In Winter Trees, Chilled Winds Whistle--Creating High Voltages Of Dopamine Which Wriggle Free In My Cells, Evening Dwellers Soon Awake Forcing Back The Day--Yet I Stay To Gaze At The Black Canvas Of The Sky, How Terribly I Wish To Paint The Stars Ice White Paint Sits On My Palette; I Am Ready, Just As I Dip My Brush Dawn Returns Kinder Blazes On The Horizon--Yet I Create Lonely Stars Sit--Three To Be Exact--Are My Creation--And They Greet The Day Dwellers, Nodding Hello As They Slip Back Into The Blue Over The Whispy Clouds They Dance, Politely They Smile And Wave Goodbye And Quietly They Disappeared, Rain Rolled Down My Cheeks But I Am Happy, Silently I Smiled As I Trodded Back To The Trees The Summer Birds Still Singing, Uniting With The Bone Chilling Air Valiant They Weather The Winter On The Winding River--Their Melody Tingling Under My Xiphoid Process, Yielding To Express My Gratitude I Watch As They Zig-Zag Through The Winter Trees**

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Feb 20, 2013

Feb 20, 2013 at 8:32 AM UTC

sydney-victoria

Summer Birds-Winter Trees (Alphabet Poem)

**A Unique Sight To See Are Summer Birds Sitting In Winter Trees, Chilled Winds Whistle--Creating High Voltages Of Dopamine Which Wriggle Free In My Cells, Evening Dwellers Soon Awake Forcing Back The Day--Yet I Stay To Gaze At The Black Canvas Of The Sky, How Terribly I Wish To Paint The Stars Ice White Paint Sits On My Palette; I Am Ready, Just As I Dip My Brush Dawn Returns Kinder Blazes On The Horizon--Yet I Create Lonely Stars Sit--Three To Be Exact--Are My Creation--And They Greet The Day Dwellers, Nodding Hello As They Slip Back Into The Blue Over The Whispy Clouds They Dance, Politely They Smile And Wave Goodbye And Quietly They Disappeared, Rain Rolled Down My Cheeks But I Am Happy, Silently I Smiled As I Trodded Back To The Trees The Summer Birds Still Singing, Uniting With The Bone Chilling Air Valiant They Weather The Winter On The Winding River--Their Melody Tingling Under My Xiphoid Process, Yielding To Express My Gratitude I Watch As They Zig-Zag Through The Winter Trees**

26

Slivers of unintended new experiences Stuck painlessly into our feet Moving along the same splintered wooden dock We both have trodded before Too safely to have carried any scar tissue But now our earth touchers resemble Porcupines that when touched Refuse to release our quills But offer a story or two to remember we've been here before instead Of losing the memories we've gained. And when we finally pick the wood out it fashions into a fence gate that opens up to New stories new experiences New feelings new apprehensions Just new New looks on a new face wrapped in gift wrap So I have to make it Christmas to open them up without buying anything but just by giving the gift of presence as presents. And anything more is another present under the tree It's nice to know that sometimes when you plant trust It grows into honesty Honestly it's refreshing It's a test of moral strength and how far you can carry the torch. In the Olympic sport of courting

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Nov 5, 2012

Nov 5, 2012 at 12:44 AM UTC

josh-koepp

new

Slivers of unintended new experiences Stuck painlessly into our feet Moving along the same splintered wooden dock We both have trodded before Too safely to have carried any scar tissue But now our earth touchers resemble Porcupines that when touched Refuse to release our quills But offer a story or two to remember we've been here before instead Of losing the memories we've gained. And when we finally pick the wood out it fashions into a fence gate that opens up to New stories new experiences New feelings new apprehensions Just new New looks on a new face wrapped in gift wrap So I have to make it Christmas to open them up without buying anything but just by giving the gift of presence as presents. And anything more is another present under the tree It's nice to know that sometimes when you plant trust It grows into honesty Honestly it's refreshing It's a test of moral strength and how far you can carry the torch. In the Olympic sport of courting

24

Surviving beneath bypass Cardboard ripping, some spyglass Thin covering, protection Sharpening knife, perfection Past life professional man Bad karma, God, dealt sad hand Panhandling corner right here Homemade sign makes purpose clear People ignoring, glower Certainly love hot shower Having nothing accept rags Don't own anything, no bags Eating something, drugging, ***** What's needed most cannot choose Spent long hot days begging cash Got ***** finished dining trash Trodded back to cardboard home Peeking out feeling all alone

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Oct 3, 2013

Oct 3, 2013 at 4:52 PM UTC

bernadette-rivera

Peeping Out At My World

Surviving beneath bypass Cardboard ripping, some spyglass Thin covering, protection Sharpening knife, perfection Past life professional man Bad karma, God, dealt sad hand Panhandling corner right here Homemade sign makes purpose clear People ignoring, glower Certainly love hot shower Having nothing accept rags Don't own anything, no bags Eating something, drugging, ***** What's needed most cannot choose Spent long hot days begging cash Got ***** finished dining trash Trodded back to cardboard home Peeking out feeling all alone

18

Rippled outside, and slit open the evening Like a sword tearing the skin of a badger Gone upon the arrival of the morning In peace lingered out of the bedchamber Out the young maiden walked An angry light shines on her hand Bright the green grass thus she trodded Into the bland scene she blended Like a piece of wild thunderstorm She cried and whined and wailed In all silence and no sounding of a horn Tore farther afield and waited and waited Never did her little love appear All to her doubt and fury and dismay And smote herself with a shady spear Whilst the other roses bloomed, lifeless she lay.

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Dec 17, 2012

Dec 17, 2012 at 4:05 AM UTC

stephanie-cynthia

A Piece of Thunderstorm

Rippled outside, and slit open the evening Like a sword tearing the skin of a badger Gone upon the arrival of the morning In peace lingered out of the bedchamber Out the young maiden walked An angry light shines on her hand Bright the green grass thus she trodded Into the bland scene she blended Like a piece of wild thunderstorm She cried and whined and wailed In all silence and no sounding of a horn Tore farther afield and waited and waited Never did her little love appear All to her doubt and fury and dismay And smote herself with a shady spear Whilst the other roses bloomed, lifeless she lay.

16

*In the mountains of old A sword rests having just been forged Waiting now for the respectful keep All bow to revenance of thee Years will pass before claim is made One whom has a soul that bleeds Broken yet still fights One who loves with all might The sword shall rest until such time For the one whom she has in mind Forged she was off blood, sweat, and tears Lays in wait for years One has come who demons have fought Gallantly trodded the Devils lot Ripped was the heart of this keep Only to love again wholeheartedly Once eyes were set upon this sword Her beauty seen from the delicate forge Though covered in dust from years of wait The keep takes her as is fate*

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Mar 19, 2016

Mar 19, 2016 at 4:18 AM UTC

karina-veirs

Sword

*In the mountains of old A sword rests having just been forged Waiting now for the respectful keep All bow to revenance of thee Years will pass before claim is made One whom has a soul that bleeds Broken yet still fights One who loves with all might The sword shall rest until such time For the one whom she has in mind Forged she was off blood, sweat, and tears Lays in wait for years One has come who demons have fought Gallantly trodded the Devils lot Ripped was the heart of this keep Only to love again wholeheartedly Once eyes were set upon this sword Her beauty seen from the delicate forge Though covered in dust from years of wait The keep takes her as is fate*

20

If I could paint my emotions On your harsh heart I'd have pretty done But I was not an artist And that was the problem If I could sprinkle you With my glistening tears I'd have pretty pursued But I was not a gardener And that was the problem Since the fork of our ways Left us unrecognized And trodded the traces Leaving us impoverished I'd done a bit of training To hide my sufferings I've been digging weeds out And portraying your frown...

0

Feb 27, 2018

Feb 27, 2018 at 1:56 PM UTC

Surbhidadhich

If I..

If I could paint my emotions On your harsh heart I'd have pretty done But I was not an artist And that was the problem If I could sprinkle you With my glistening tears I'd have pretty pursued But I was not a gardener And that was the problem Since the fork of our ways Left us unrecognized And trodded the traces Leaving us impoverished I'd done a bit of training To hide my sufferings I've been digging weeds out And portraying your frown...

18