Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Words
"vistavision" poems
"WE therefore commit his body to the deep, to be turned into corruption, looking for the resurrection of the body..." I am hundred years dead And the water is dread wide — Hunch I my head against the wind Straight from the shoulder, H/E angst, But goes my algorithm awry — Memory nipped my insanity yesternight... ... ... Mortified right I was; Ain't cotton to lovers for years...no... Could slip they my pious sleep away By a little sleight of hand... Love is a briny deep, but sets at the shore, Vaporizing the Vistavision — and How all the dreams that sound subdued, Not to be assayed and to be limited not, Follow the spells of fatuity's skill sorcerous — From the cradle to the pyre Chased I the broken velvet sky; let The sacred shudder to ask what toxins they contain; Eventide breaks from pain to fountain pen, Count I thy decrepit blessings — Brain crying dearth, heart...peopled by void, soul acting out an enigma, shadow wounds up to sleep — Thou water not wet... Their carousal is on a carousel ride — Awaiting my high the next low tide... Come thick with me and be my thin, We shall die down, but hang in; The sun liar mounts and rains my croon, Spy not quicksand, we pink moon — My, my, a thousand-spring-dead - I! The balloon did spring not a leak; still I'm suspiring time —
0
Mar 21, 2021
Mar 21, 2021 at 5:37 AM UTC
atalukder
A Chameleon to His Shadow
"WE therefore commit his body to the deep, to be turned into corruption, looking for the resurrection of the body..." I am hundred years dead And the water is dread wide — Hunch I my head against the wind Straight from the shoulder, H/E angst, But goes my algorithm awry — Memory nipped my insanity yesternight... ... ... Mortified right I was; Ain't cotton to lovers for years...no... Could slip they my pious sleep away By a little sleight of hand... Love is a briny deep, but sets at the shore, Vaporizing the Vistavision — and How all the dreams that sound subdued, Not to be assayed and to be limited not, Follow the spells of fatuity's skill sorcerous — From the cradle to the pyre Chased I the broken velvet sky; let The sacred shudder to ask what toxins they contain; Eventide breaks from pain to fountain pen, Count I thy decrepit blessings — Brain crying dearth, heart...peopled by void, soul acting out an enigma, shadow wounds up to sleep — Thou water not wet... Their carousal is on a carousel ride — Awaiting my high the next low tide... Come thick with me and be my thin, We shall die down, but hang in; The sun liar mounts and rains my croon, Spy not quicksand, we pink moon — My, my, a thousand-spring-dead - I! The balloon did spring not a leak; still I'm suspiring time —
Continue reading...
36