"unspooling" poems - Hello Poetry

their spines are straight - two different trees in two different woods. people like them are not meant to come face to face. is this the first time the distance between them is silent? emptied of political din, hoarse shouts of protest in market squares, flags unfurled not in love for a country but in hate for the other. are enemies still enemies when they are of the same space? the two girls recognize that their hair curls in the same way. they don't reach out to touch but a curiosity forms a thread between them. a thread. their fingers tingle, flutter spooling and unspooling this new connection, this new thread. their eyes swing like pendulums. how new, how strange to breathe in air that is clean of artificial hate. they are curious, spooling and unspooling. what will happen to this thread? for threads are too easy to break. and each knows the power of governments, their ability to dangle them then break and break and break. the two girls wonder. the two girls stare. they look. they look and look. but their spines are straight - two different trees in two different woods.

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Sep 26, 2016

Sep 26, 2016 at 2:59 PM UTC

vamika

the politics of friendship

their spines are straight - two different trees in two different woods. people like them are not meant to come face to face. is this the first time the distance between them is silent? emptied of political din, hoarse shouts of protest in market squares, flags unfurled not in love for a country but in hate for the other. are enemies still enemies when they are of the same space? the two girls recognize that their hair curls in the same way. they don't reach out to touch but a curiosity forms a thread between them. a thread. their fingers tingle, flutter spooling and unspooling this new connection, this new thread. their eyes swing like pendulums. how new, how strange to breathe in air that is clean of artificial hate. they are curious, spooling and unspooling. what will happen to this thread? for threads are too easy to break. and each knows the power of governments, their ability to dangle them then break and break and break. the two girls wonder. the two girls stare. they look. they look and look. but their spines are straight - two different trees in two different woods.

31

ribbons of rain curtain across the pond in a chorus of stones touch tapping the surface unspooling in ribs of circles within the trees time collects in rings roots seek the deepest mysteries at the water’s edge a heron that ever seeing eye stands searching for the shadows of fish in a flash its beak trades life for life empty yourself of this world empty yourself into this world you will be warmed & welcomed you will be feathered lightly along

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Jun 16, 2025

Jun 16, 2025 at 7:36 PM UTC

michaelseanmaloney

ribbons of rain

ribbons of rain curtain across the pond in a chorus of stones touch tapping the surface unspooling in ribs of circles within the trees time collects in rings roots seek the deepest mysteries at the water’s edge a heron that ever seeing eye stands searching for the shadows of fish in a flash its beak trades life for life empty yourself of this world empty yourself into this world you will be warmed & welcomed you will be feathered lightly along

18

Sometimes, you have slow nights, and hate yourself for being so lazy. Other times, it's an unleashing **** a riled-up badger in your heart; a\frigate on the best seas; so much hope, and the love of your life hasn't ****** her boyfriend, only you; and it really comes out of you, unspooling on the screen. It's so much magic, that your heart greases over with it; and all the little things bellow.

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Sep 2, 2012

Sep 2, 2012 at 11:35 PM UTC

Waverly

On Writing.

Sometimes, you have slow nights, and hate yourself for being so lazy. Other times, it's an unleashing **** a riled-up badger in your heart; a\frigate on the best seas; so much hope, and the love of your life hasn't ****** her boyfriend, only you; and it really comes out of you, unspooling on the screen. It's so much magic, that your heart greases over with it; and all the little things bellow.

18

The rubber tree glimmers in fragrant rain, dust sliding back to earth in pouring notes. Grim greyness leaves to green limp veins, ribs, blades; wet breathing pores, refreshed with clemency. Arrive so I forget when you depart. Arrive so I forget when you hit out with your unkind departures, exits free. Arrive so I forgive, forget, abide. This dance is not just mine but yours, my foe. This dance is not just ours but Time's to move, unspooling clouds of film to fill the hours so Time dissolves, enthralling hearts with joy. To throng today with thoughts of your goodbyes. To throng today with thoughts of endless Time is greyness; the dance of rain unheeding the stealing back of grey, of grime, of thirst. The spool unfolds the hues of dusty breath. The spool unfolds the hues of endless thought. For brown a scarred hill, raging red for prey; the clean of green departs, the screen remains. Then why do I romance with you, my foe? Then why do I romance with you in dreams? Infringing sleep where thoughts no longer flow. Then stilling colors all, the Screen remains.

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Jul 11, 2016

Jul 11, 2016 at 4:51 AM UTC

neera-kashyap

A Quarrel

The rubber tree glimmers in fragrant rain, dust sliding back to earth in pouring notes. Grim greyness leaves to green limp veins, ribs, blades; wet breathing pores, refreshed with clemency. Arrive so I forget when you depart. Arrive so I forget when you hit out with your unkind departures, exits free. Arrive so I forgive, forget, abide. This dance is not just mine but yours, my foe. This dance is not just ours but Time's to move, unspooling clouds of film to fill the hours so Time dissolves, enthralling hearts with joy. To throng today with thoughts of your goodbyes. To throng today with thoughts of endless Time is greyness; the dance of rain unheeding the stealing back of grey, of grime, of thirst. The spool unfolds the hues of dusty breath. The spool unfolds the hues of endless thought. For brown a scarred hill, raging red for prey; the clean of green departs, the screen remains. Then why do I romance with you, my foe? Then why do I romance with you in dreams? Infringing sleep where thoughts no longer flow. Then stilling colors all, the Screen remains.

24

It starts—soft, a thread of sound unspooling in the dark, a quiet pull at the edge of being. Close your eyes. A note bends, weightless, stretching toward something unseen, like light slipping through fingertips, like breath you didn’t know you were holding. And suddenly, you are drifting— unbodied, untethered, rising through the hush between chords. Strings shimmer like stardust beneath your skin. A voice—half air, half ache— opens like a doorway inside your chest. The bass hums deep in your bones, a second heartbeat, steady, certain. Everything you are dissolves into melody, into harmony, into motion. For a moment—just one— the world forgets to weigh you down. And you let go.

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Jun 23, 2025

Jun 23, 2025 at 6:13 AM UTC

MatthewDepew

Where the Music Takes You

It starts—soft, a thread of sound unspooling in the dark, a quiet pull at the edge of being. Close your eyes. A note bends, weightless, stretching toward something unseen, like light slipping through fingertips, like breath you didn’t know you were holding. And suddenly, you are drifting— unbodied, untethered, rising through the hush between chords. Strings shimmer like stardust beneath your skin. A voice—half air, half ache— opens like a doorway inside your chest. The bass hums deep in your bones, a second heartbeat, steady, certain. Everything you are dissolves into melody, into harmony, into motion. For a moment—just one— the world forgets to weigh you down. And you let go.

23

Besotted winged pollinators roistering barrage drowned amidst general insectivorous cacophony indistinct auditory signals communicated intermingled with bounteous wafting fragrance midwifed edenic floral pullulation sensate admixture viz colored spectrum amidst unrehearsed extemporaneous orchestral suite bedded lambs amorous ewe man like bleating songs nature all aflutter actively socially vociferating profuse living color rainbow pastiche teeming soundgarden smorgasbord cornucopia ignites mordent Utopian aural swath visual vistas stilling spellbinding spilling riotous carpeted web uniting doubting Thomas's existentialism despite unanswered queries asper diverse modalities each specie evolved to survive despite countervailing destructive forces generating plethora pandemonium ironically promulgating harmonic exemplary convergence Highland Manor concourse aflame with new life parented by instinctive imprimatur anonymous patents now genetic mapping usurped with untold outcome analysis bred crispr discovery Earthlings fiddling glorifies honied indemnity Judeo-Christian kudos leaves of grass kudzo resistance mutation immunizes biosphere once prolific differentiation shrinks becoming monocultural setting virtual stage catastrophe plus food shortage would become global debacle predicated, sans virulent viral and/or bacterial strain renting asunder tripwire unspooling delicate webbed whirl already widely compromised more so since Rachel Carson wrote Silent Spring **** sapiens population explosion pits profligate predilections planet Earth in extremis dire crisis cavalierly dismissed humans in hot pursuit racking up superfluous wealth ***** deeds done dirt cheap - tricking mother nature, who will unwittingly spring scrumptious feeding off scrimmage forcing capitulation or total extinction meanwhile fostering long tall floral inflorescence a composite having sessile flowers apiary abuzz, cuz queen bee can no longer wax bereft of royal jelly.

0

May 27, 2018

May 27, 2018 at 12:35 AM UTC

matthew-scott-harris2p

Like Daisies On Stalks

Besotted winged pollinators roistering barrage drowned amidst general insectivorous cacophony indistinct auditory signals communicated intermingled with bounteous wafting fragrance midwifed edenic floral pullulation sensate admixture viz colored spectrum amidst unrehearsed extemporaneous orchestral suite bedded lambs amorous ewe man like bleating songs nature all aflutter actively socially vociferating profuse living color rainbow pastiche teeming soundgarden smorgasbord cornucopia ignites mordent Utopian aural swath visual vistas stilling spellbinding spilling riotous carpeted web uniting doubting Thomas's existentialism despite unanswered queries asper diverse modalities each specie evolved to survive despite countervailing destructive forces generating plethora pandemonium ironically promulgating harmonic exemplary convergence Highland Manor concourse aflame with new life parented by instinctive imprimatur anonymous patents now genetic mapping usurped with untold outcome analysis bred crispr discovery Earthlings fiddling glorifies honied indemnity Judeo-Christian kudos leaves of grass kudzo resistance mutation immunizes biosphere once prolific differentiation shrinks becoming monocultural setting virtual stage catastrophe plus food shortage would become global debacle predicated, sans virulent viral and/or bacterial strain renting asunder tripwire unspooling delicate webbed whirl already widely compromised more so since Rachel Carson wrote Silent Spring **** sapiens population explosion pits profligate predilections planet Earth in extremis dire crisis cavalierly dismissed humans in hot pursuit racking up superfluous wealth ***** deeds done dirt cheap - tricking mother nature, who will unwittingly spring scrumptious feeding off scrimmage forcing capitulation or total extinction meanwhile fostering long tall floral inflorescence a composite having sessile flowers apiary abuzz, cuz queen bee can no longer wax bereft of royal jelly.

48

On the phone we’d walk and talk in circles Repeated conversations Patterns on my rug worn from our talking You taught me a life lived right will circle Memories working out of order psychic dream senses in waking life, stitching back together to make a web, Somethings have more than one context But the synchronicity will only comes to those in rhythm To seek out the motion, careful attention must be maintained: A book will come back twice if it’s supposed to One mention of it, you might let it slip your mind, But then will come a coincidence so strong, you’ll know it was supposed to be read Without the dedication to trust a great doubt sets in, the web so carefully spun begins unspooling tangling into a knot wound so tight It will leave in it's place a black hole this is where I titer between the point of falling in, or dangling along the lines of the knot trying to detangle whats left of the web we created I am dancing around in different directions hoping we’ll pass again in sync

0

Oct 24, 2020

Oct 24, 2020 at 10:55 PM UTC

mmparker178

Circles

On the phone we’d walk and talk in circles Repeated conversations Patterns on my rug worn from our talking You taught me a life lived right will circle Memories working out of order psychic dream senses in waking life, stitching back together to make a web, Somethings have more than one context But the synchronicity will only comes to those in rhythm To seek out the motion, careful attention must be maintained: A book will come back twice if it’s supposed to One mention of it, you might let it slip your mind, But then will come a coincidence so strong, you’ll know it was supposed to be read Without the dedication to trust a great doubt sets in, the web so carefully spun begins unspooling tangling into a knot wound so tight It will leave in it's place a black hole this is where I titer between the point of falling in, or dangling along the lines of the knot trying to detangle whats left of the web we created I am dancing around in different directions hoping we’ll pass again in sync

24

i circle the sun inching closer it lets me in giving me a taste of the golden glory and i burn blissfully i burn- for you. suddenly the wings are a furnace plumes unspooling to ashes my soul - annihilated. i fall, a comet without a name, worse off than when i first came.

0

Sep 19, 2025

Sep 19, 2025 at 3:30 PM UTC

ivorymusings

icarus

i circle the sun inching closer it lets me in giving me a taste of the golden glory and i burn blissfully i burn- for you. suddenly the wings are a furnace plumes unspooling to ashes my soul - annihilated. i fall, a comet without a name, worse off than when i first came.

12

Silence — our silence, Unspooling, Gone now, and ****** with the wolves. Dethroned, Without importance.

0

Nov 2, 2014

Nov 2, 2014 at 1:33 PM UTC

mrmonst3r

Untitled

Silence — our silence, Unspooling, Gone now, and ****** with the wolves. Dethroned, Without importance.

5

this week is melting into the last again, an unspooling reel of denatured days whelmed in a geodic cavity of suspense. entombed air turns stale quickly, curable by neither smoke nor innumerable crystalline mirrors refracting the lightning blinking in my window. occupation's familiar musk hangs heavy, pierced only occasionally by storm sounds. the flightless beast of languor growls an uneasy thunder rolling adrift in a hollow sky, phantom wingbeats striking my temples as I recoil at the realisation that my tormentor is my pulse. lucent orbs of twilight gemmed in a shapeshifting head stare at any number of absent realisations guilty talons rake deep into the void, yet even this suicidal contemplation snares in ephemerality. we barely remember to maroon the latest self-undoing consecration.

0

May 27, 2020

May 27, 2020 at 1:30 PM UTC

clxrion

a nothing chimera

this week is melting into the last again, an unspooling reel of denatured days whelmed in a geodic cavity of suspense. entombed air turns stale quickly, curable by neither smoke nor innumerable crystalline mirrors refracting the lightning blinking in my window. occupation's familiar musk hangs heavy, pierced only occasionally by storm sounds. the flightless beast of languor growls an uneasy thunder rolling adrift in a hollow sky, phantom wingbeats striking my temples as I recoil at the realisation that my tormentor is my pulse. lucent orbs of twilight gemmed in a shapeshifting head stare at any number of absent realisations guilty talons rake deep into the void, yet even this suicidal contemplation snares in ephemerality. we barely remember to maroon the latest self-undoing consecration.

12

As I stroked gently the head of the sun-spun hair draped softly across my chest, I couldn’t help but find myself thinking, for what must have been the hundredth time, what are you thinking, how are you feeling? What have we done to each other? Yet, as if on cue, as if reading my thoughts, your head snapped up and your eyes met mine. You looked at me half-lidded and while my first two questions remained unanswered, I realized it was merely a catchlight I saw in your eyes, and what we had done to each other was ***** out the starlight that had once dwelled there. “When I think of my wife, I always think of her head. I picture cracking her lovely skull, unspooling her brains, trying to get answers. The primal questions of any marriage. What are you thinking? How are you feeling? What have we done to each other?” —Ben Affleck, Gone Girl Found poem from the opening lines of the movie, Gone Girl.

0

Mar 1, 2021

Mar 1, 2021 at 5:42 AM UTC

lifeasalyric

Catchlight

As I stroked gently the head of the sun-spun hair draped softly across my chest, I couldn’t help but find myself thinking, for what must have been the hundredth time, what are you thinking, how are you feeling? What have we done to each other? Yet, as if on cue, as if reading my thoughts, your head snapped up and your eyes met mine. You looked at me half-lidded and while my first two questions remained unanswered, I realized it was merely a catchlight I saw in your eyes, and what we had done to each other was ***** out the starlight that had once dwelled there. “When I think of my wife, I always think of her head. I picture cracking her lovely skull, unspooling her brains, trying to get answers. The primal questions of any marriage. What are you thinking? How are you feeling? What have we done to each other?” —Ben Affleck, Gone Girl Found poem from the opening lines of the movie, Gone Girl.

14