Painted in twilight grey, the stars dangle low
over a far vallev where willows bend
in a lone shade, creating lines
of a face disappearing from hazy dew.
Upon stars, a wish holds this sigh
with yearning that you'll be here
to raise my eyes sunny as springtime
through your warmest afterglow...
Now I yearn for those days shimmering,
when fervor's reach
was our ripple of love ...and
how the waves would tremble
while I held the arms that waxed the night.
You never said your heart grew frail
as we ruffled through leaves of byways
mimicking voices on the radio
till lonely tunes stab me...
How I longingly reach out for you.
.
motes
sunbeams
spectral view
exhalation
could blow you away
I choose to breathe you in
travel via my airways
you become intoxicating
I know that you take my breath away
a constricted throat opens my mind
lay dying in imagined arms
astral asphyxiation
paved road to redemption
flickers in and out
radiant light
bathed in silk
imbibed
end
.
Alone, not really, but that's how it seems constricted and breathless is how I’d describe me.
My shoulders sag, but not because I'm weak, but because I have been carrying this weight for so long that it's imprinted into me all the while I'm flashing this smile that could've fooled Even me.
My laughter echoes throughout the room because I'm trying so hard not to reveal the real me manipulative right ? but if I didn't do it, who would be there to care from me to dry my eyes hold my hand and comfort me I've been imprisoned in my own mind for so long that I don't want anyone to try to free me.
What's the world beyond here?
Have to give me ?… I don't know.
And I couldn't dare wander out and go see because what good is this world if the reflection of the strong girl I've been seeing turns out to not really be me?
she felt like his prey
personality deceased
no longer herself
trying to please him
angry sullen little man
enjoying her pain
she felt constricted
attempting to make him glad
her soul was dying
did she realize
she aided in her abuse
sadly I think not
Let's bring it back; let's go back
To that sweet, old thing we now lack
Make it great again, go back again
Let's start right away; let's begin
Back to organic maple syrup over Mama's hot, buttermilk flapjacks
And Daddy's Saturday morning tutorials on how to change the oil and how to use a scissor jack
A return to strangers saying 'hello' to strangers in passing
Souls offering sincere pleasantries that are warm and long-lasting
Let's take a trip back to Mayberry
With some good old-fashioned Andy, Aunt Bee, and Barney
Back to decency, respect, kindness, and hospitality
A good, wholesome place; a good space of love and integrity
Let's go back far away from the masks and the distant, cold stares
Back to sharing a sandwich at lunch and car ride shares
For too long, we've sat lonely in a sunken place
Such a cold, dark, and constricted space
Let's go back, let's revisit, let's taste that lost sweetness
That wholesome, rich thing that's bustling with goodness
Tonight, I'm not doing well.
My mind is in a bad place.
It's forcing me to withdraw.
I'm trying to find some space.
This has already gotten bad
And it keeps on getting worse.
Why do I have this burden
Of having to deal with this curse?
I feel something around me
It has me constricted
The outcome of these
Can never be depicted.
I'm here all by myself
I have to be by design
Nobody can see me like this
I want them thinking I'm fine.
My body keeps growing tense
My muscles are getting tight
As this depression grabs ahold
I no longer see the light.
A wind blasted tree,
not lightning struck,
but raped
by a heartless wind.
Just the one tree
on a bare-assed hill,
It stands pallid and naked,
its bark striped away
by raging teeth.
I pick up a stick from the ground,
it’s a severed branch
as stiff as an artificial limb,
tap the storm-shorn trunk,
note that the tree
is not hollow yet.
If lightning had split it,
it would have echoed
a deeper, deadlier silence.
Within the wood
is a narrowly constricted throat,
it is still able to speak
through that elongated windpipe.
What did I hear?
I heard a caged wind
being strangled to death,
and death, it had a ghost-white face,
that’s what I heard,
that's what I thought I saw
through wide, and astonished eyes.
Ancient maps,
streaked with stars,
charted paths unknown.
But oceans are vast,
a whispered warning:
the world too wide.
Stars explode,
a symphony of light,
a universe in flux.
But what is hidden
behind that cosmic cloud?
Our minds yearned,
but our vision blurred.
Humanity delves,
with sharpened minds,
seeking to unlock
nature's hidden code.
Yet the universe
whispers in quanta:
a mystery endures.
Concrete canyons
climb for the heavens,
our aspirations are vast.
Yet, the earth gasps,
her lungs constricted,
our impact lingers.
Our minds reach,
but grasp at phantoms,
caught in the cycle.
To create and destroy,
then recreate,
the endless dance.
To see ourselves
in the starry void,
is to recognize,
both vast potential,
and finite flaws.
For even stars
have a final burn.
We are creatures
of yearning and longing,
ever searching,
forever bound,
to the dance of the universe.
Hosed, he may not win, piehole’s constricted.
Food tossed into pipe, and wedged.
Yet, with save, he’s unhinged.
Do you sometimes use GPS
To navigate your flat world?
Did you ever wonder how all those satellites
Get around to the underside?
Do you use a flush toilet
Or a siphon?
See, fluids can sometimes run uphill.
Your “the Amazon River is flat” theory
Fails to hold water.
Did you ever consider an Antarctic cruise?
Did you ever want to sail around the South Pole?
You could look out for the ice-wall
That you think holds the oceans in.
Do you recognize a metaphor?
When the Bible talks about the
“Four corners of the Earth”,
It’s an idiom for distant lands,
Or is your world-view ‘square’?
Every other celestial body we can see is round.
Why should the Earth be so different?
Phases of the Moon,
Pictures of Earth taken by astronauts,
The “celestial spheres” really are spherical.
If you need a book to tell you what is real,
Try a physics book.
If you need a tool to discern what is right,
Try logic or experiment.
Try to see beyond the horizon.
If your world is really constricted
To what you can see from your limited view,
Then, perhaps, start walking.
I remember when the walls were red.
Not a single person was dead.
The room was big and wide,
And it was so easy to confide.
I lived in cabin seven.
Jacque called it Heaven.
I never thought I’d forget.
It’s like we never met.
Now the walls are no longer red.
My old friends might as well be dead.
The rooms are so small and white,
And the air feels so tight.
Now I stay in eleven.
I just can’t connect with Kevin
Their calls still echo through these halls.
I’m constricted by these new walls.
A dime in his pocket
hope in his heart
Just his clothes on his back
but he’d make a new start
Constricted at home
he took to the road
Foraged for food
yet upright he strode
Three days and two nights
of this, all it took
For him to come home ~
let mom and dad off the hook
You're not profitable
announced the sentence to the verse
and slapped him with her length
the verse gave a good long look at the sentence
staring look
(you're soo punctuation constricted)
- chasing after money makes people forget to be free
Beautiful struggle.
Struggle taught me to be bold.
It taught me not to be whom, I was the previous day
Struggle taught me to be strange and
It taught me to wise and dumb at the same time
Struggle made me who I am today.
The bigger part of me is made of struggle.
It taught me to see things I never knew.
It showed me future in a present way that's was harsh.
Struggle gave me best lessons to be better.
It showed me peace when everyone was crying.
It taught me difference between hate and love.
Struggle never left me alone.
It showed me flames but I made peace with it.
Struggle taught to praise victory no matter how small it is.
Struggle taught me that heroes are not born but made through pain.
Beautiful Struggle.
It taught me to have a very constricted mind.
Struggle and pain,are not the same in my world.
It will mould you and teach you to who you are.
Without Struggle I would never be myself again.
Happiness has no part in my diary
But Struggle is what I know best and the subject I do perfect.
I'm the Best, Beautiful Struggle.
By: #zMafia_GP??????
I live the invention of existing
in a constricted sensation of becoming
I want to live from life, the solution...
I long for the essence of creation...
But I fragment into
hidden projects
that reflect secret desires
while I just wish earnestly to live...!
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.