Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"unharnessed" poems
pretty words for pretty girls *courageous caress of a send key pressed, after practicing   speechless up to the assumed, up to assured point of perfect, flawlessness, visible in each invisible breath, pauses full of poignant stories unspoken but eye cleared visible for seeing the future* pretty words for pretty girls *intuition incorporates superstition, unending, intending infatuated moon gazing, but not pagan worshiping, no it is love worshiping your hiding cave places are moon apertures dark spots, impenetrable to my eye’s naked telescoping, but heartbeats spring my unharnessed love poems to you me and millions whisper in full certainty of our lost but beloved presences, moon stored for us, my darling dares the light shine upon my bay, here to me, our path, a moonlight waving hand provides on many nights, a clear direction to follow, pseudo-thrills of continence that my vision uncovers, but my body knows is but a poor substitute* pretty words for pretty girls *my disease has a diagnosis. your body attacked, your body reacts, defeats the infector, remembering the next time that disease comes round how it got beat prior and how to do it again* so how come I’m falling love once more?*
0
Aug 3, 2019
Aug 3, 2019 at 5:20 PM UTC
pretty words for pretty girls
Why can't I find the flames that once burned beneath skin? Changed from warm to cold and dark Reality's breath blew out the fire deep in me Transformed my core into coals black, chalky, and dark Attempting to force a glimmer of hope in my eyes Ignite carefree wonder with a spark of belief Then I could be unharnessed and rile passion That scalds any unwanted lingering grief Beyond these pages is genuine pain Still alive though my heart won't beat A hundred perfect words could not replace Sought-after inferno, world devoid of heat Head hung low in debilitating  failure Dragging feet with purposeful defiance Mistakes resting their weight on my back Hunt for embers in half-hearted compliance One candle lit to awaken misplaced zeal Eternity tried silently stealing away Sunset has the right shades of Orange and red But lacks love it used to invoke each day I am overanalyzing this Eventually find the ecstasy that died Don't care if It's a person, place, or idea Something out there will rekindle lost feelings inside
0
Nov 7, 2018
Nov 7, 2018 at 6:40 PM UTC
Lost Feelings
It came gently, Like a leaf undulating after a gust of wind breaks it loose. An ebb and flow As step by step it became crystal clear this long awaited tryst Would not take place. Like a delicate leaf gracefully spiralling to its resting place, I took defeat in stride. head high, my pride not arrogance, but an appropriate Ladylike shield. You were perfect..gentle and a man. That is, after all, why though dry to the touch I hold a flame to you still. You placed me gently on the bed where other casualties of love and fantasy turn to dust through time's compassionate touch. Yet hope I harbor in my hardened veins still.. gentle like a hummingbird's heart beat, pathetic as a defeated gambler, that this affair will revive itself.   That the let down, final for now, Is not forever. Until then I heave a restful sigh And bid you well, secret love. farewell!   farewell fragile, unharnessed dream. Crunch!
0
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 11:24 AM UTC
The Let Down
is the lady kosher when she talks on the subject of integrity that is a bit rich for some to ingest surely she must think they're not onto her falsehood crest honesty pays when dealing with folks yet on many occasions she's unharnessed its yoke her principles were shredded by the things she did utter oh for her lips to convey the proper taste of butter
0
Mar 15, 2017
Mar 15, 2017 at 6:59 PM UTC
Taste of Butter
They look at me through their worn down features. They've got lines all over their faces each a mark of frequented emotion. Their suits are cut to perfection, or else they haven't showered in months. It doesn't make a difference, this type of man... are all the same in their bones. They want my freshness, the smooth touch of my skin, the soft curls and curves that haven't yet been worn rough by age. They want the twist of my smile my brightness, my beauty. They see untamed, unharnessed, naiveté   sparkling in my eyes, and they want it. They want me to make them happy, and through our word play I can see it in their eyes. The longing, the lust, the belittlement. The twist of my  smile slowly drops down, The sparkle in my eye sizzles out. But my brightness? It burns hot. I am not naive, I know that you want me. I am not yours for the taking. My brightness burns hot, and I will scorch you to your bones. (Parents, raise your sons right)
0
Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 9:30 PM UTC
| Men |
We've been evolving with music, ever since our mothers heart beats, special and different, terminally unique, flabbergasted freaks, trapped, poverty stricken and weak, little ***** unharnessed potential sleeps, forced into a corner of naughty left handed niche, never gonna be right, no matter how hard we tried to please, surrounded by subterfuge ,to fool we, And force us to be, other than that which is 3, oppressed with an Iron fist , that was planned ,pummeling, our creative needs, like bricks in a washing machines, Never get cleaned, Discombobulated, Artiste, wearing our souls on our sleeves, it's not like we never told you, What WE wanted to be, Traitors sounding dis-eased, somethings never gonna change, best believe, they just wait and become more vague, and strange and displeased. The only escape and coping mechanism sufficient 4 1 2 survive, and preserve the real we, Alchemists? , Magicians? thieves? thrive and get a life ub3 and feel alive, Our duty to share and express our majesty and universal given creative talents! aka " Balancing heavy burdens on bended knees" the most precious ancient currency Deep in the concrete jungle, amongst all kinds of ****** Only dead fish go with the flow! And never stumble Just their for the ride with ease, swimming upstream, brings light providing us with,the fortitude and spiritual stamina, to stay alive &survive; for the streets, that is required, in order 4 We 2 b 3 and able to keep on keeping on, no matter what's gone on, Got 2 B strong by any means necessary, suffering through these astonishing catastrophes, written in stone, war and peace, 4 what doesn't **** hones and must make strengths increase, as out of the darkness comes the light, like a beast to a priest, That we are still here to share, no matter what! express ,believe and receive, creating, creative, creations... exposing the woods from the trees WE big people , have to bend, and ponder, and weep.
0
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 5:29 PM UTC
Tortured Artiste Weeps
We've been evolving with music, ever since our mothers heart beats, special and different, terminally unique, flabbergasted freaks, trapped, poverty stricken and weak, little ***** unharnessed potential sleeps, forced into a corner of naughty left handed niche, never gonna be right, no matter how hard we tried to please, surrounded by subterfuge ,to fool we, And force us to be, other than that which is 3, oppressed with an Iron fist , that was planned ,pummeling, our creative needs, like bricks in a washing machines, Never get cleaned, Discombobulated, Artiste, wearing our souls on our sleeves, it's not like we never told you, What WE wanted to be, Traitors sounding dis-eased, somethings never gonna change, best believe, they just wait and become more vague, and strange and displeased. The only escape and coping mechanism sufficient 4 1 2 survive, and preserve the real we, Alchemists? , Magicians? thieves? thrive and get a life ub3 and feel alive, Our duty to share and express our majesty and universal given creative talents! aka " Balancing heavy burdens on bended knees" the most precious ancient currency Deep in the concrete jungle, amongst all kinds of ****** Only dead fish go with the flow! And never stumble Just their for the ride with ease, swimming upstream, brings light providing us with,the fortitude and spiritual stamina, to stay alive &survive; for the streets, that is required, in order 4 We 2 b 3 and able to keep on keeping on, no matter what's gone on, Got 2 B strong by any means necessary, suffering through these astonishing catastrophes, written in stone, war and peace, 4 what doesn't **** hones and must make strengths increase, as out of the darkness comes the light, like a beast to a priest, That we are still here to share, no matter what! express ,believe and receive, creating, creative, creations... exposing the woods from the trees WE big people , have to bend, and ponder, and weep.
Continue reading...
82
Talk to me hold me. Tell me what u feel . My heart yearns for your touch, Your laugh it runs through my veins, like a drug, my addiction is unkindled, unharnessed, unbelievable. I want to know your name, who you are But for now i wait in silence for you, my drug my addiction my nameless face and faceless name
0
Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 11:54 PM UTC
Future Tense
The sadness creeps beneath my skin. Shards of glass in my veins. The unending grey seeps in through my pores. Consuming me slowly. A shrill sound with no reprieve. The shouting behind my eyes. My psyche tears like the fiber of meat. Ripping ragged edges. Deterioration. Memories like fabric. Ripples like silk. Unlocking sealed vaults. Excavating the contents. A landslide. Immense pain. Like a fork against your molars. A pinging sensation. A jolt to wake you in the night. Theres no reprieve from the ache. The feeling of being crushed. A rubber band around your ribs. Your bones beg. Crack. Bone marrow replaced with sadness. Too much to contain. Pressure against the confines bone. Snapping in two at any second. Any bit of intelligence has been ruined. I'm strung out in my sadness. All thoughts are electric current. Unharnessed. An itchy soul. Yearning for space. Desperate. Waiting for the skin to split. Fire beginning in your fingers. Flames licking your lungs. The underside of your muscles burn. Swallowed whole. Pressure against my skull. Fluid and mass. The seams may split. Spilling out. Boiling over. Needing peace like water. High noon in summer. Your throat betraying you. Begging to quench it's thirst. Slamming my fists against the ground. Pulverizing the flesh of my knuckles. Screaming into the darkness. Praying to the gods. Begging for mercy.
0
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 8:54 AM UTC
There isn't a God.
I like songs with rough edges    Ones that sound like they were created in the dusty corners of someone’s garage     Songs that were recorded with ancient                                   and ailing equipment           That play back fuzzy and distorted             Songs that are raw and unfinished              Songs with unharnessed emotion They aren’t mellow or soothing They offend with every beat They have corners and sharp spines They cut and tear with each chord                     I like songs with rough edges Because they can pierce through my skin                            My shields are powerless        All defenses are rendered ineffective                                           I am left exposed I like songs with rough edges Because they force me to feel         The things I had locked out         The things I have been so afraid of letting in         The things that remind me that I'm only human                    I like songs with rough edges                                                          That match my own
0
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 10:22 PM UTC
Rough Edges
Winter flakes fall, alive, alone, Bright like ivory, cold like bone, Peaceful and silent, they ride the wind, Brushing snow-swept faces, chapped, skinned. Icy sidewalks lay and stare, Smooth glassy pathway reflecting brisk air, The sky quietly murmurs a shade of bluish-grey, Clouds block the sun, dulling this December day. Trees stripped bare by merciless freeze, Unwrapped, they suffer, nobody sees, A lifetime of labor hangs from every limb, Waiting for Summer to begin. Mountains far off watch in greif, For greenery's sake pray for relief, Blistering rage unharnessed, free, Is a predator gobbling all it can see. Winter's love and hate collide, As unpredictable as ocean's tide, Moment by moment, fading away, The beginning of tomorrow, end of today.
0
May 12, 2018
May 12, 2018 at 8:05 PM UTC
Winter Flakes Fall
“love isn’t easy” they say; but it seems to go smoothly when you’re falling free and unharnessed, into pools of love where smiles naturally find its way and everything feels right — until gravity shifts and tides change and trust is lost and the pain remains realizing your hands and chest are empty, when there’s nothing left but that sinking feeling that never leaves. and they were right.
0
Feb 14, 2020
Feb 14, 2020 at 12:11 PM UTC
feb 13
A sparkling afternoon with a veteran of the slave ships. Our careless liberty. My hands on her hips. Adrift on the water and ending too soon. Last night we walked the salmon run, and spoke with our eyes. Her honeyed tounge Numbing my deceit. Like a Colombian curse. With her in the tower. Laid bare to addiction. In the hot moisture of our fusion. Dew drops from her salty skin, indulging each exquisite sin, unharnessed. Bound for daybreak. Once I might have had the nerve to sabotage the Polar Star. With a road flare in the engine room or an auger bit below. But time has torn the spine from me. And groomed me for humanity. I've bent my knee to smoke and fear And now I know the lash. When winter comes I'll hit Cordova and find out where she keeps her dogs. So that I might lay beside them, with my gentle hands upon them, and howl for her return.
0
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 4:20 PM UTC
Polar Star
Weighed down by the heavy cloak of depression And his tormented brain He searched for the answers in a bottle He reached the bottom and sank even deeper into the pit Senses intoxicated Clearly not on his right mind He fumbled around in the medicine cabinet Seeking the ultimate way out The pills were calling out to him “We can free you” So he swallowed the lot, washed down with yet more liquor The chemicals began to dance through his veins Releasing their deadly poison He was overcome Unconsciousness set in Contorted and convulsing he buckled and slumped to the floor She found him this time Like the time before Out cold, black mucus running out of his mouth His ‘guardian angel’ She dialled 999 20 years later And history repeats itself This time he phones her to confess The cycle resumes Frantic calls to the authorities Interminable waiting Can he be brought back from the brink? Yet again he is saved But not cured A ticking bomb free to wreak havoc Upon his blood ties Unharnessed rage and anger Eluding the ‘system’ once more A life saved But a life sentence imposed on his ‘loved’ ones When will it ever end?!
0
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 5:17 PM UTC
S.O.S