Are we less superior to ourselves than realization?
Our temporary shell, our salt, our generation.
Our streamers flutter like snow in Antarctica.
longing and valid expansion, made of mica.
Striving to liberate us, it rips apart its body.
Once again, envisaging us embody.
Systole, diastole, adventure indiscriminately.
The wide open oozes a scent of love imminently.
Shimmering between each of the drumbeats.
Summer, you are the windlessness of such feats.
We ate, kissed, cuddled, and then supped food.
A day's total is a unit of measure for what you lewd.
Need and desire exist in an interdependent reality.
We bury our bodies as a sign of our mortality.
The fate of our remains while wearing the shell
The land utters us the title of a spare body smell.
Synapses are memories, and we are waiting.
In order to cross its boundary, there is no gating.
Written: August 09, 2022
Running wild propelled by echoes of thunderous hooves clip clopping rhyme
A troop of stallions gallop in assonance over fields of pasture in adnomination
Display streams of collective unconsciousness un-trapped by stirrups and reigns
Apposition knows no boundaries when pairing takes part in euphonic neighing
Here in Nirvana they need neither hyperbole nor euphemism to cover lost ground
Para-diastole does not exist in equine paradise as syncope and solecism canter
Karma has no boundaries and parrhesia has lost the shadows of juxtaposed isms
Unsaddled from the weight of the whip the horizon bears no limit for freedom
The herd adheres not to the pathetic fallacy of tamed nature riding roughshod
Over rhetorical questions or self-styled syllepsis of spurs spurned on by clatter
When I look at the feast of mares and fillies following instinct and pure inclination
My path finds their spoor on track to a promised land of inhibition and pleasure
29th March 2020
Every day and night I look up to the sky,
Always wondering why
It couldn’t always be you and I-
Sure it may seem frivolous to feel so deeply connected
To someone who’s not on this planet
Someone who has left what feels like long ago-
4 years later and I lament
Screaming “I love you” to the sky
My heart is bleeding – why?
A part of me lost forever, or are you still around?
My heart gets heavy when I say your name-
Yet I smile- a constant game
my head fights my heart
memories verse reality-
What I would do to restart-
Cherishing every moment, good, bad
Letting my heart succumb to diastole
Even at the point of relaxation,
there is pressure.
Even when my thoughts wander,
my heart remains with you.
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.