"It's such a shame," my weary thoughts concede, "that a single coin flip should decide your whole day. Your pulse is weak every moment preceding that space of a flip--like a turbulent airway.
You never did muse through that handy trick of catching the coin the second it lands. Now your shoes are wet from searching through the crik and the coin has flipped; fear has the upper hand.
You trouble with fate and chances slim but what's holding you back is your wit so dim. Turn on the light and have a look around, maybe you'll find the answer's quite sound.
Anxiety and hope; two sides of a penny that never did follow the rules of the game. They won't stay the flip but they'll charge you plenty their forces nigh impossible to grasp or tame.
Simply take back the cash and don't deal yourself in, perhaps losing your luck is in reality, a win."
Ohh that's such an interesting idea! I love the metaphor of anxiety and hope being a matter of coin tosses, and then the twist in the final couplet is super interesting and insightful. "don't deal yourself in" is a powerful phrase as well.
Shhh. It's okay. Those broken pieces on the floor? They aren't you anymore. I know it's hard to leave your past to stop and reflect instead of sit and regret. I cup your tears in my palm and what do I see? From this water, you can grow a seed. And look! there it is, not scattered on the floor, but in your chest, as before. The reason it hurts so much is because you haven't let the soil settle; calm those heavy breaths with me, and don't try to uproot the tree. All these staples and tape will only pollute the land and bring about weeds.
Let's give this broken heart to time, and salute the new growth. Soon shall tendrils begin to climb-- with plenty of tears and plenty of sun-- and as a knight carries his banner for his love, so too will you when your heart you have won.
I yearn so to leave-- weaned on love and wolf's milk my bones are strong and the skin of my paw is thick.
more than blood I reach for tumbling, foaming water I ache to be scratched by heavy thorns and rough-hewn stone
my coat so thick from snowy mountains and glaciers my ears twitch at the sound of your running feet
you couldn't imagine the colors I have felt against my eyelids and the thousands of insect bites that made me love you all the more
give me everything you own and leave not your greatest secrets to explorers or scientists leave them to the truth seekers and the wild beasts of people the only ones who can love you fully, though they lack love themselves
death in your arms would be a sad farewell, but cradled so I would know my place and in knowing, finally I could and would bestow love to the humanity in me
Fizzy earth drowns and gorges me as I collapse on new green grass. The stars are sleeping bees in limbo and the emptiness between them is a lovely quilted window.
My heartbeat's grafted on your scratchy skin and your slow growth comforts tired lungs. Space has crowned me queen along with every other peeping violet and stunning blade of green.
Moments escape reality as I tread on your hospitality; agree with me, just for a while, and the stars in your eyes will twinkle--false crocodile.
To both be so full of shallow and overflowing with hollow air; you can't help but think 'useless,' and I'd halfway agree if my heart wasn't making room for tripling kindness.
We'll twirl dandelion chains, talk of beauty and vain glory, but your open door is rarely your only barrier, and the tea granted has been steeped just barely.
Warm hospitality cures me of my scuba-diving mind. Fishy thoughts drawn back to the light (though rainbow-hued by nature) no longer have a current to fight.
Hi there, quitecontrary!! Thanks for the likes on my poems <3 I can't believe I didn't subscribe to your thread after reading your wonderful first poem, so sorry about that! ^^' Anyways I just wanted to say that these poems are beautiful, and I love the way they all flow so smoothly! Your poem "Bee Sting" is super neat too, with the way it repeats phrases like "fickle truth" and "wide eyes and a dauntless stare." And "With mortar and pestle I grind thin air" is such a creative and vivid piece of imagery! Great job with these, and keep up the awesome work!! ^-^
Edit: I just read your most recent poem, and it's incredible too! I especially like the line "The stars are sleeping bees in limbo"-- it's a really original way to describe the stars!! C:
Last edited by Spearmint on Fri Apr 09, 2021 12:53 am, edited 1 time in total.
thank you @Spearmint!! Sometimes my poems just start out as fragments and I have to piece them together which makes rhythm a lot harder xD But I'm really glad you liked "Bee Sting", that was one I really struggled with flow on
The power of your storyteller's song entrances us more than the tale rhythms like a collapsing waterfall tune like a bird in flight
the whispers sharper than the hiss of a sword shouts unlike anything our hands can wield
and when your words trip down a tumbling and clattering train track and the rushing wheels loose traction-- There's glory in your insanity in the way your words lose meter
Why this dementia? Why this lapse in logic? You forget your daughter but she knows your voice and when you call out in fright, the once helpless princess eases your distress
Your last words as they crumble at your lips-- the whispers sharper than the hiss of a sword, shouts more commanding than the seasons-- she'll cherish them gratefully
those worn-out inflections
the kettle's steaming and screaming but nothing can overpower these breaths these last gifts of life
Omg I know I already commented on your thread but I just have to say, I love the Lorax reference here!! “thneeds” yup yup yup!! XD And excellent point— what kind of quality exactly does “quality guaranteed” mean? Hehe okay that’s it for this comment, have a wonderful day/night!! ^-^
:DD I'm so glad you caught that @Spearmint! have a wonderful day/night too!
9. For When Faith is Lost
Truth drags comet-trails over my head In majestic fireworks and stained-glass skies but my arms carry a much heavier weight though little-known, my heart harbors its bed
My eyes are fixated on my shoes when the world goes on above but on the chains that bind my wrists lies nestled a little grey dove
After all, hope is a bird, not a machine and like me it feeds on love We both worry to much for the skies and our dreams are nothing to speak of
So it's this we ask--our daily bread and when shoes fall tattered aside we'll go on barefoot to reach the future for all our pains we've always bled
We who prize perfection would forget our own rough edges and whittle away at the smoothest curves-- too ashamed to share our troubles; too wrapped up to see we are whittling ourselves into infinity.
Gender:
Points: 4312
Reviews: 58