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I eat words and spit them out in sense | Short poems by PoetryjunkShort poems by Poetryjunk
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Short poems by Poetryjunk
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I eat words and spit them out in sense | Short poems by Poetryjunk | poetryjunk.wordpress.com Reviews
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Short poems by Poetryjunk
May | 2010 | I eat words and spit them out in sense
https://poetryjunk.wordpress.com/2010/05
Short poems by Poetryjunk. I eat words and spit them out in sense. Archive May, 2010. In white broken steel and soft silent. Stands the refrigerator on stand by. To preserve the cold of his coolness. And conserve apple pies and morphine. Outside the door of rising pressure. Vibrates your waste heat. In a caress of diffuse noise. Through the thin air. I bow full of tears. Where trees adorn the pasture. And farmers separating the roads. A glorification of being. Where the city will never come.
January | 2010 | I eat words and spit them out in sense
https://poetryjunk.wordpress.com/2010/01
Short poems by Poetryjunk. I eat words and spit them out in sense. Archive January, 2010. With frost on my lenses. I will follow you blindly. Error: Twitter did not respond. Please wait a few minutes and refresh this page. Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email. Join 4 other followers. Blog at WordPress.com.
December | 2009 | I eat words and spit them out in sense
https://poetryjunk.wordpress.com/2009/12
Short poems by Poetryjunk. I eat words and spit them out in sense. Archive December, 2009. Short the free mind. Given in green genes. Fresh diluted the alcohol. Otherwise I was happy. Fascinating appeal the conviction. Of one who understood me. Salt heals wounds not to blame. Blame is for pastors. Virtuosic are my dreams of pure emotion. Madness with utopian fantasy. Sleep is all, no noise from rising life of the day. Touch myself a settled sleep. Where everything is now and yesterday is gone.
Love is blind | I eat words and spit them out in sense
https://poetryjunk.wordpress.com/2010/01/31/176
Short poems by Poetryjunk. I eat words and spit them out in sense. With frost on my lenses. I will follow you blindly. Short the free mind. Continuous years →. 3 Responses to “Love is blind”. May 18, 2010 at 9:36 pm. Yes, it speaks for me,. Thank you for sharing! May 20, 2010 at 4:20 am. Nice, very nice. o. May 20, 2010 at 7:15 am. Leave a Reply Cancel reply. Enter your comment here. Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:. Address never made public). Notify me of new comments via email.
The Wanderer | I eat words and spit them out in sense
https://poetryjunk.wordpress.com/2010/05/20/the-wanderer
Short poems by Poetryjunk. I eat words and spit them out in sense. I bow full of tears. 5 Responses to “The Wanderer”. May 20, 2010 at 1:57 pm. How often love gets swamped in other things. May 20, 2010 at 2:29 pm. 8220;tell/ the loneliness/ on the street/ it was love”. 8211;a beautiful phrase! Http:/ mairmusic.wordpress.com/. May 20, 2010 at 3:10 pm. You painted the sadness perfectly. May 20, 2010 at 6:04 pm. I agree with mairmusic, that line was simply perfection. Great poem! May 21, 2010 at 6:05 pm.
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White Mongoose Write Mongoose
http://furyinmysilence.blogspot.com/2011/10/in-dark-hours-when-i-should-sleep-light.html
White Mongoose Write Mongoose. In the dark hours, when I should sleep. The light burns bright and fires are still deeply burning a flame higher and higher for you. I will myself to break this ache. I still want to be close to you. To just. Hold hands. Grasp at fingers. Move together. I am moved by you. I am on my knees. On my knees so raw and calloused from dragging my heavy body through a daily routine. But in the end, I am a woman in need. That need was not sated. King of New York Hacks. Resting in tha...
White Mongoose Write Mongoose
http://furyinmysilence.blogspot.com/2012/01/for-what-is-this-realism-in-heroic.html
White Mongoose Write Mongoose. For what is this realism in the heroic state? Attached to garbled words, the sorry song of wanting. The effervescent apathy cursing in magnificent world order is no match for real feeling. 7 January 2012 at 21:32. No, it is not. Thankyou for your comments and criticisms! Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). View my complete profile. For what is this realism in the heroic state? Read, Learn, Love. Doubtfulpoet - A Poetry Blog. Dreams, Deliriums, and Other Mind Talk.
White Mongoose Write Mongoose
http://furyinmysilence.blogspot.com/2011/10/my-body-as-shell.html
White Mongoose Write Mongoose. I was consumed by your breath, your presence, your touch. The first night, so real and full of love, clings on to my memory and I cannot leave it behind. I will not forget you. I will not stop loving you. Thankyou for your comments and criticisms! Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). View my complete profile. In the dark hours, when I should sleep the light b. You shine as silver when we convalesce in autumn s. I noticed your stretched out toes and wanted to pr.
White Mongoose Write Mongoose: 201106
http://furyinmysilence.blogspot.com/2011_06_01_archive.html
White Mongoose Write Mongoose. All of a sudden, lucid and bright, burned retinas and soul engulfed by plight. A scream she did make agonised and loud, and he had regarded but made not a sound. It was she who had swallowed the blood-tasting pill but he did not know what it was like to kill. She begged him to help her and curled into a ball but he had not seen the foetus and all. 8220;Make it stop oh won’t you please OH god no” And so it continued the cruel agony below. World still turning and breaks do no...
White Mongoose Write Mongoose: 201008
http://furyinmysilence.blogspot.com/2010_08_01_archive.html
White Mongoose Write Mongoose. We built our foundations on quicksand; slowly we sank, but with determination to hold onto any solid form around us. I cemented our feet in blocks side by side but now we know that cement is no match for a disturbance deep inside. You held onto great rage and my pleas were but muffled cries in cement torn apart by tears and regret. Search for an academy where flesh can lay with the rest of flesh; let the community of fat and skin linger on bones, one as other. Your nose, th...
White Mongoose Write Mongoose
http://furyinmysilence.blogspot.com/2011/11/mapped-on-your-body.html
White Mongoose Write Mongoose. Mapped on your body. Base of spine. If a cat you have lost 3 lives. My lives are my loves. I too have 6 left. A rather unusual series of events. Heavy hearted because who doesn't want to feel? Heavy mouths will feed. An accolade of what once was and what will continue to be. Suddenly. Almost immediate, heart sinking amongst rising floods of approaching tears. My blanket of sun won't dry your sodden grey clouds. Repulsive. Look! And if we walk them again the dust will rise w...
White Mongoose Write Mongoose
http://furyinmysilence.blogspot.com/2011/09/we-went-to-that-place-where-silence.html
White Mongoose Write Mongoose. We went to that place where the silence stung our eyes. Sticks and stones. Holding their own against broken words. Touched and made. Lying in reprieve. An eventuality to halt and relieve. Sumptuous moments there beyond affection and bitterness. Electric and statism. Beating in a stained room of fullness. Just a glance. Looking without seeing. Feeling. We are still one being. Cotton and stitch transfer emotion between two hearts. Tears will drop. Slowly but persistent.
White Mongoose Write Mongoose: 201101
http://furyinmysilence.blogspot.com/2011_01_01_archive.html
White Mongoose Write Mongoose. Comfort. It's a comfortable word. Not onomatopoeic but still warming and kind. We take for granted our comfort in the new lights of morning windows but are jolted when sudden light breaks through a gap in the door. We are comfortable with our barriers, with our horizons that are still tangible. But barriers are for breaking, not just by us, but by our closest and nearest; our comforters. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). View my complete profile. Read, Learn, Love.
White Mongoose Write Mongoose
http://furyinmysilence.blogspot.com/2011/10/i-noticed-your-stretched-out-toes-and.html
White Mongoose Write Mongoose. I noticed your stretched out toes and wanted to press my fingers in the soft gaps. You restful positions are both amusing and endearing. I want to cuddle next to your beautiful being and listen to the sweet purr as I touch the velvet ears. Thankyou for your comments and criticisms! Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). View my complete profile. In the dark hours, when I should sleep the light b. You shine as silver when we convalesce in autumn s. Read, Learn, Love.
White Mongoose Write Mongoose: 201111
http://furyinmysilence.blogspot.com/2011_11_01_archive.html
White Mongoose Write Mongoose. Mapped on your body. Base of spine. If a cat you have lost 3 lives. My lives are my loves. I too have 6 left. A rather unusual series of events. Heavy hearted because who doesn't want to feel? Heavy mouths will feed. An accolade of what once was and what will continue to be. Suddenly. Almost immediate, heart sinking amongst rising floods of approaching tears. My blanket of sun won't dry your sodden grey clouds. Repulsive. Look! And if we walk them again the dust will rise w...
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Poetry Joy | Looking at love, loss, life and faith
Looking at love, loss, life and faith. My life and writing. Write 31 days series. Other: learning to celebrate our difference and unity. April 13, 2018. In terms of being different and distinct, “other” isn’t necessarily a bad thing to be. Although we wouldn’t want to be extraneous or surplus to requirements, we all revel in our individuality and uniqueness. One person’s cage is another’s idea of freedom. Difference can be celebrated. When we think about the other we consider. We are most like one anothe...
Poetry Jumps Off the Shelf
Is a program launched in 2004 by Shoshauna Shy in Madison, Wisconsin, with the mission of bringing poetry out of the libraries, bookstores and classrooms into the general public arena. Calls for submissions are conducted largely via cyberspace. POETRY JUMPS OFF THE SHELF. The Woodrow Hall Top Shelf Awards 2016. Thank you to EVERYONE. Who submitted their work! The winning poems are available to read by clicking here:. Feel free to email Shoshauna Shy if you have any questions:. Cedar Glen in Ephraim.
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I eat words and spit them out in sense | Short poems by Poetryjunk
Short poems by Poetryjunk. I eat words and spit them out in sense. In white broken steel and soft silent. Stands the refrigerator on stand by. To preserve the cold of his coolness. And conserve apple pies and morphine. Outside the door of rising pressure. Vibrates your waste heat. In a caress of diffuse noise. Through the thin air. I bow full of tears. Where trees adorn the pasture. And farmers separating the roads. A glorification of being. Where the city will never come. Larr; Older Entries.
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When the pen cries... It pours...
When the pen cries. It pours. This blog contains a collection of poetry, my views about life in general, my favorite songs, movies and books anything about life and being a be-happy attitude individual. I'm hoping to spread the word and the lessons that I've learned as I go on with life. Sunday, September 25, 2011. There's A Reason Why? And A Time for Everything. Theres a reason why the sun rises to the east and sets in the to the west. For this is the time for the darkness to spread and the night to rest.
Poetry Junky | Afropoetics by Omondi Abudho
A house in flames. On June 1, 2010. My heart I’ve found is burning down. It’s burning down to the ground. Memories flee through doors I’ve seen. But are you in there? Dreams I’ve had are jumping now. They’re jumping down to the ground. They jump through windows to be free,. But are you in there? Some memories made it out. But some pictures were left to burn. Burning inside, we heard their cries. But were you in there? And Fate is just an eight year old. A little boy out in the cold. Easing all our cries.
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POETRY KALYANI
PRABAL PRAMANIK'S ACADEMY OF ARTS. Bhamlada, Bhatwan, Punjab-145022, India. Mobile : 9417735631 / 9417170998. An analytical approach to the poetic works of Kalyani Pramanik. Childrens books by Dr. Kalyani Pramanik. Nature and Kalyani Pramanik. Neo-romanticism in Kalyani Pramaniks Poems. Lyrical works of Kalyani Pramanik. Kalyani Pramanik wrote not only poems. Kalyani Pramanik was born in 23rd February 1923 in Ranchi. Kalyani Pramanik was a poet of rare sensitivity and scholar of distinction. This websi...
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