"unpeel" poems - Hello Poetry

Stasis in darkness. Then the substanceless blue Pour of tor and distances. God's lioness, How one we grow, Pivot of heels and knees! -- The furrow Splits and passes, sister to The brown arc Of the neck I cannot catch, Nigger-eye Berries cast dark Hooks ---- Black sweet blood mouthfuls, Shadows. Something else Hauls me through air ---- Thighs, hair; Flakes from my heels. White Godiva, I unpeel ---- Dead hands, dead stringencies. And now I Foam to wheat, a glitter of seas. The child's cry Melts in the wall. And I Am the arrow, The dew that flies, Suicidal, at one with the drive Into the red Eye, the cauldron of morning.

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Sylvia Plath

Ariel

Stasis in darkness. Then the substanceless blue Pour of tor and distances. God's lioness, How one we grow, Pivot of heels and knees! -- The furrow Splits and passes, sister to The brown arc Of the neck I cannot catch, Nigger-eye Berries cast dark Hooks ---- Black sweet blood mouthfuls, Shadows. Something else Hauls me through air ---- Thighs, hair; Flakes from my heels. White Godiva, I unpeel ---- Dead hands, dead stringencies. And now I Foam to wheat, a glitter of seas. The child's cry Melts in the wall. And I Am the arrow, The dew that flies, Suicidal, at one with the drive Into the red Eye, the cauldron of morning.

31

If there are infinite worlds, there must be one where umbrellas never close- hinges locked open like stubborn jaws, gape-mouthed against walls in patient herds. No one in their twenties owns one, their hamster-cage apartments too small for such luxuries. They ask for rain jackets on birthdays. Mary Poppins still drifts down Cherry Tree Lane, her umbrella never folding, only floating. Children carry slips home for violating umbrella laws, forging signatures in loopy ink. The Morton Salt girl wears a slicker, yellow as a warning flare before the flood. My mother walking me to kindergarten in rain, transparent vinyl dome above our heads- I, the opposite of a fish in its tank. Her hair plastered to her forehead by the time we reached the door. Everyone looks most beautiful with rainwater running down their face. In the open-umbrella reality, time can walk backward- you can unwater a plant, unpeel a clementine, un-kiss someone. Endings lift again, fabric billowing, as if the story had been left open in the wind. Heather and Mike find the road out. Rosemary tips the bassinet. There, perhaps, neither of us was born. What lay between us stays open too long, collecting rain until it sags, slow and certain, like sugar in the first storm.

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Aug 12, 2025

Aug 12, 2025 at 8:06 PM UTC

Kiki-Dresden

The Open-Umbrella Reality

If there are infinite worlds, there must be one where umbrellas never close- hinges locked open like stubborn jaws, gape-mouthed against walls in patient herds. No one in their twenties owns one, their hamster-cage apartments too small for such luxuries. They ask for rain jackets on birthdays. Mary Poppins still drifts down Cherry Tree Lane, her umbrella never folding, only floating. Children carry slips home for violating umbrella laws, forging signatures in loopy ink. The Morton Salt girl wears a slicker, yellow as a warning flare before the flood. My mother walking me to kindergarten in rain, transparent vinyl dome above our heads- I, the opposite of a fish in its tank. Her hair plastered to her forehead by the time we reached the door. Everyone looks most beautiful with rainwater running down their face. In the open-umbrella reality, time can walk backward- you can unwater a plant, unpeel a clementine, un-kiss someone. Endings lift again, fabric billowing, as if the story had been left open in the wind. Heather and Mike find the road out. Rosemary tips the bassinet. There, perhaps, neither of us was born. What lay between us stays open too long, collecting rain until it sags, slow and certain, like sugar in the first storm.

39

Moonlight, above Moonlight, the love Swelling heart, I feel Moonlight tonight to see the sights revealed… Promises of life you knew you’d never keep, re-a-liz-ing light, drowns in the deep, Finding love you lost, it hurts, you weep, And the secrets you thought she’d like to steal, Moonlight tonight to see the sights revealed… Walked hand-in-hand our hearts fit like a glove, holding out for the day I’d feel this love, Hardship and pain chip away at the steel, lotus layers of life you find unpeel, No matter what you’ll stay finds strange appeal, Moonlight tonight to see the sights revealed… Moonlight tonight to see the sights revealed… Moonlight tonight to see the sights revealed… Moonlight, descends Our life, upends My heart, a stone Moonlight tonight my god I feel alone. Moonlight…tonight Moonlight…tonight And all the wounds of life that she can heal, Moonlight tonight to see the sights revealed… Moonlight tonight to see the sights revealed… Moonlight tonight to see the sights revealed…

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Jun 9, 2016

Jun 9, 2016 at 10:36 PM UTC

Let me fall back into your heart, And lie besides you On this purple, diamond sea. Let me unpeel your skin from your bones And find again the love within you, Running blue against your wrists. Let me still visit like an old friend, There to protect you From those burning sienna skies. Let me take from you the bottle, the dagger too, For I will not let you Lose yourself on these frothy, hemlock waves. Let me, though I am dead, still beat in your heart, For I will not leave you, Until you too are ready depart.

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Dec 22, 2015

Dec 22, 2015 at 6:19 AM UTC

anothergrace

Let me

Let me fall back into your heart, And lie besides you On this purple, diamond sea. Let me unpeel your skin from your bones And find again the love within you, Running blue against your wrists. Let me still visit like an old friend, There to protect you From those burning sienna skies. Let me take from you the bottle, the dagger too, For I will not let you Lose yourself on these frothy, hemlock waves. Let me, though I am dead, still beat in your heart, For I will not leave you, Until you too are ready depart.

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on this day of winged hearts and chocolates one tends to write about their "better half," their lovers or husbands This is not one of those. I have no better half I am an entity whole. Woman proud and complete deep down strata of soul this union is held by the thread of our children tender shoots growing in our shared care and even that thread is frayed I write this valentine's poem for the love of myself for the knowledge that when I love myself first and the universe will give and I will snip that thread so begging to be snipped and fly off into the winds, my three moonbeams in tow always at my side They will never cease their growing under my watchful eye I will be loved like I am supposed to be whether by another or only me for I now know what I need Slowly layers unpeel and each day I am more ready So take your little fluttery paper hearts that you never gave me anyway and paste them all over your own for soon you will find you might need them

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Feb 13, 2017

Feb 13, 2017 at 11:44 PM UTC

lora-lee

un-valentine

on this day of winged hearts and chocolates one tends to write about their "better half," their lovers or husbands This is not one of those. I have no better half I am an entity whole. Woman proud and complete deep down strata of soul this union is held by the thread of our children tender shoots growing in our shared care and even that thread is frayed I write this valentine's poem for the love of myself for the knowledge that when I love myself first and the universe will give and I will snip that thread so begging to be snipped and fly off into the winds, my three moonbeams in tow always at my side They will never cease their growing under my watchful eye I will be loved like I am supposed to be whether by another or only me for I now know what I need Slowly layers unpeel and each day I am more ready So take your little fluttery paper hearts that you never gave me anyway and paste them all over your own for soon you will find you might need them

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[this is a poem of past loves lost to time and space but never to be forgotten the hurt remains allways] "LOST TO LOVE" The days they will tumble your heart will crumble desolation will follow insides feel hollow. A love i have lost at a great cost. My mouth becomes dry as i sit and ponder why? My feet are like lead they say it's all in my head. Let them be me and see how it feels. i sit for hours as thoughts unpeel ghosts of the past now assailing me. I feel so insecure as tears roll down my cheek. Sounds feed in and out, as i stare at a wall i thought i heard your voice "i love you"it called", alas it was only an echo from a telephone call. They say time is a healer and all will be well.. believe me this is just a rumour, a lost soft sell. My heart holds a space, empty in size it was once filled with love lost to life. Copyright © ken newman

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Sep 29, 2013

Sep 29, 2013 at 6:04 AM UTC

ken-george-newman

lost to love

[this is a poem of past loves lost to time and space but never to be forgotten the hurt remains allways] "LOST TO LOVE" The days they will tumble your heart will crumble desolation will follow insides feel hollow. A love i have lost at a great cost. My mouth becomes dry as i sit and ponder why? My feet are like lead they say it's all in my head. Let them be me and see how it feels. i sit for hours as thoughts unpeel ghosts of the past now assailing me. I feel so insecure as tears roll down my cheek. Sounds feed in and out, as i stare at a wall i thought i heard your voice "i love you"it called", alas it was only an echo from a telephone call. They say time is a healer and all will be well.. believe me this is just a rumour, a lost soft sell. My heart holds a space, empty in size it was once filled with love lost to life. Copyright © ken newman

32

theres a juncture a crossroad ask Papa Legba voodoo god doorway to the loa and Baudelaire poet extraordinaire when youthful passions and eroticism are sullied and pretty pretty flies away from years used up and gravities command a slow draying suffocates leaps of consciousness and leaves in its wake belly bloats sagging gut callouses ****** lines slowing metabolism and a host of other accumulated degradations cruel revelations unpeel the chilled soul as the light of the body is eroded by time and the horror of solitude sets in a conjunction of creeps moon and Venus show us new enticements Satan's *** nail an independent morality flowers of evil the eroticism of aesthetic suffering. like idle hands in something filthy to ****** the glistening buttery *** of youth gone by and in its place forbidden undulations of dark dreams and the beauty of ****** horror or what then may i ask the imagine-less drab canvass of the castrated high minded middle class?

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Mar 5, 2017

Mar 5, 2017 at 6:49 PM UTC

zebrablack

Cross Road

theres a juncture a crossroad ask Papa Legba voodoo god doorway to the loa and Baudelaire poet extraordinaire when youthful passions and eroticism are sullied and pretty pretty flies away from years used up and gravities command a slow draying suffocates leaps of consciousness and leaves in its wake belly bloats sagging gut callouses ****** lines slowing metabolism and a host of other accumulated degradations cruel revelations unpeel the chilled soul as the light of the body is eroded by time and the horror of solitude sets in a conjunction of creeps moon and Venus show us new enticements Satan's *** nail an independent morality flowers of evil the eroticism of aesthetic suffering. like idle hands in something filthy to ****** the glistening buttery *** of youth gone by and in its place forbidden undulations of dark dreams and the beauty of ****** horror or what then may i ask the imagine-less drab canvass of the castrated high minded middle class?

38

What do you do when finally you realize what death is? You have so much planned for the future, but never know what your fate is. You finally realize how people would feel if you actually did it. But you're so sad and buried ssooo deep into your problems you don't give a **** You don't care what they would say, how they would feel. It's all just a mess waiting to unpeel. You can't dig yourself out, you feel it's the only way. Cloud of judgement, jumbles of depression planted in your brain, you can't get out. Its deeper than being able to just shout. You think maybe its a disease? Maybe it's a dream? But it's real life and it all hurts more than a feen. You start to wonder who matters and who doesn't. Put them in a list. But no one's on the list.. It doesn't make sense, you can't comprehend, so oh, go along, it's your mind after all. You follow along because you think it's normal. You suppose everyone goes through this, it's just a phase. It could be more horrible. Cloud of judgement, memories erase, jumbles controlling your mind. You lost your chance to get out, there's no more time. You worry, stress, fight, deny. But that does nothing but fills up more jumbles in your mind. You start to think too much, you cry inside. The thought of it all is too intertwined. You stand up and try to chop the walls down, but here comes ANOTHER thing, and turns it all around. You search for ideas, look deep in the mug. But all you can think of, are new types of drugs. You resist as long as you can, but eventually flip open that illegal ban. You mess it up more, JUMBLES GALORE.. Suddenly...you become empty. You get so confused, all of the jumbles have finally fused. You start to feel nothing, it all becomes numb. You want nothing, than to just be done. So you plan, plot, think, think, and think. That's all you ever do, it's what it's come down to. You're so sad, you don't have a clue. And that's all it ever is, you're just depressed, so lost in the mess.

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May 22, 2013

May 22, 2013 at 2:01 AM UTC

cadee-c

Honestly

What do you do when finally you realize what death is? You have so much planned for the future, but never know what your fate is. You finally realize how people would feel if you actually did it. But you're so sad and buried ssooo deep into your problems you don't give a **** You don't care what they would say, how they would feel. It's all just a mess waiting to unpeel. You can't dig yourself out, you feel it's the only way. Cloud of judgement, jumbles of depression planted in your brain, you can't get out. Its deeper than being able to just shout. You think maybe its a disease? Maybe it's a dream? But it's real life and it all hurts more than a feen. You start to wonder who matters and who doesn't. Put them in a list. But no one's on the list.. It doesn't make sense, you can't comprehend, so oh, go along, it's your mind after all. You follow along because you think it's normal. You suppose everyone goes through this, it's just a phase. It could be more horrible. Cloud of judgement, memories erase, jumbles controlling your mind. You lost your chance to get out, there's no more time. You worry, stress, fight, deny. But that does nothing but fills up more jumbles in your mind. You start to think too much, you cry inside. The thought of it all is too intertwined. You stand up and try to chop the walls down, but here comes ANOTHER thing, and turns it all around. You search for ideas, look deep in the mug. But all you can think of, are new types of drugs. You resist as long as you can, but eventually flip open that illegal ban. You mess it up more, JUMBLES GALORE.. Suddenly...you become empty. You get so confused, all of the jumbles have finally fused. You start to feel nothing, it all becomes numb. You want nothing, than to just be done. So you plan, plot, think, think, and think. That's all you ever do, it's what it's come down to. You're so sad, you don't have a clue. And that's all it ever is, you're just depressed, so lost in the mess.

8

Don’t count on a mix tape For knowledge of my sentiments Eventually time will unpeel How I feel But darling if ever I love you, I promise I will say it Not an artist, not a song, not a lyric But rather me..

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May 3, 2012

May 3, 2012 at 8:41 PM UTC

stephanie-rosario

Declaration Of Love

Don’t count on a mix tape For knowledge of my sentiments Eventually time will unpeel How I feel But darling if ever I love you, I promise I will say it Not an artist, not a song, not a lyric But rather me..

8

My clothes are familiar and I blend in well the shops are quiet and do not sell I drive on regardless each day the same way a sagas myth is here to stay the welcoming inn a buzzing hive clothes unpeel and emblazoned I rise in short sleeved blue Jim Jams with clogs of noir to follow tiled pathways and stairwells on high scale the walled harbour and tide gloves now cover along with gauzed hair levy labelled with cóem and time a mask of no air a visor upon my stare gloves that give birth in a pair entering the abode the door is unsealed la dévastation is revealed with each breath mists my brow stifled sounds and blurried spectres angels wings unfurled amorphous canoes float among modulus forms each suspended on ripples that care moorings avail the fare pure is the air each a lifeline engaged in dance the lines waver a harmonious swell take gauntlets and bib many hands take hold the canoe is in white water capsized and adrift what’s up is down and down is sound the turbulence unfolds blue now runs red muscles unwind eyes now a veiled dreams on thin air eyes are the story telling their all prepare, engage, and consider action stations now all the canoe revives eddies are restored the brows repose the eyes belighten a canoe is transformed the moorings are loosened our chance to assist the derrick is grasped air finally comes forth a canoe breaks loose a belling arises and then one more steers an outstretched hand the lines are gathered the harbour protects all a poem is written an eloquent enigma each number makes news a zero the grail summoned by home the inns light fades with the distance a refreshing shower a cooling drink a warm meal tired eyes, fasten shut the canoes float past my eyes open but nothing stirs I mouth in silence 'yield thou viral hold'

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May 9, 2020

May 9, 2020 at 7:32 PM UTC

kevin-wright-2

The harbour protects all

My clothes are familiar and I blend in well the shops are quiet and do not sell I drive on regardless each day the same way a sagas myth is here to stay the welcoming inn a buzzing hive clothes unpeel and emblazoned I rise in short sleeved blue Jim Jams with clogs of noir to follow tiled pathways and stairwells on high scale the walled harbour and tide gloves now cover along with gauzed hair levy labelled with cóem and time a mask of no air a visor upon my stare gloves that give birth in a pair entering the abode the door is unsealed la dévastation is revealed with each breath mists my brow stifled sounds and blurried spectres angels wings unfurled amorphous canoes float among modulus forms each suspended on ripples that care moorings avail the fare pure is the air each a lifeline engaged in dance the lines waver a harmonious swell take gauntlets and bib many hands take hold the canoe is in white water capsized and adrift what’s up is down and down is sound the turbulence unfolds blue now runs red muscles unwind eyes now a veiled dreams on thin air eyes are the story telling their all prepare, engage, and consider action stations now all the canoe revives eddies are restored the brows repose the eyes belighten a canoe is transformed the moorings are loosened our chance to assist the derrick is grasped air finally comes forth a canoe breaks loose a belling arises and then one more steers an outstretched hand the lines are gathered the harbour protects all a poem is written an eloquent enigma each number makes news a zero the grail summoned by home the inns light fades with the distance a refreshing shower a cooling drink a warm meal tired eyes, fasten shut the canoes float past my eyes open but nothing stirs I mouth in silence 'yield thou viral hold'

71

Itself made evident By the very discourse & action In which sees your engagement. Others around you protest, But they are written off Just as wrong, as haters. There is nothing So much as struck lightning Or the entirety of the Earth shaking Which could wake you from your rest, Unpeel your eyes, of The curtains drawn by slumber. Whatever such natural event; The magma already cooled, The fault line already cracked, The water has already receded. It already happened. You went exploring down a river And ended up stuck on an island, The boat's left adrift And you can't remember how to swim. Where have you gone? Where are you? Where have you been?

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Feb 12, 2025

Feb 12, 2025 at 1:03 PM UTC

manx-kronos-pragna

The Whale & Ahab

Itself made evident By the very discourse & action In which sees your engagement. Others around you protest, But they are written off Just as wrong, as haters. There is nothing So much as struck lightning Or the entirety of the Earth shaking Which could wake you from your rest, Unpeel your eyes, of The curtains drawn by slumber. Whatever such natural event; The magma already cooled, The fault line already cracked, The water has already receded. It already happened. You went exploring down a river And ended up stuck on an island, The boat's left adrift And you can't remember how to swim. Where have you gone? Where are you? Where have you been?

24

Unpeel the cloth that lye so softly on her skin, peeling and stripping back her flesh as she conceals herself. Watch her offer herself to the eyes that carved and stripped her, then watch her plead to be draped in expectation. You see; to be seen is to be undone.

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Mar 25, 2025

Mar 25, 2025 at 9:26 PM UTC

aishakarden

let me be naked in spirit

Unpeel the cloth that lye so softly on her skin, peeling and stripping back her flesh as she conceals herself. Watch her offer herself to the eyes that carved and stripped her, then watch her plead to be draped in expectation. You see; to be seen is to be undone.

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