I heard the hollowness that this heart hithers ~
but to tame my tears, must I trust the twilight
that ripped me in tremors and toxic tales,
the titanium lightning that traded me thirsty,
like the thunder that cuts across the ribbed sky?
these tantalizing trembles of Thor have left me,
wilting in memories, where moon rests in malice
and the monsoon maiden murmurs in wrath,
unspoken within roars of wallflower leopards ~
who ink me, laced with tiger-lilies and lethal lies.
I ache for you, stretched across sun sighs,
a bereaved goddess of thunderstorms,
vows to sear within silver streaks of solace
stripped of silk and sacrifice,in rust-skin revolt,
seething a smile across slaughtered stars,
and be the Bronté light in brooding blindness,
that cunning cyans cease to code and conceal,
I am the feminine glitch of golden gloom ~
perfumed with mercuric petals that echo rain,
in the restless release of reverent renaissance...
I remember how their mouths nipped at
me.
Fangs of wine-dusted petals, sharp.
Their thorny digits clenching my neck.
In the white hospital room, they come.
With white gowns that swirl like mouthwash.
The gleaming teeth that adorn the
uniforms.
Here, child. The flowers want you to
take this.
And I do, with the orange-peel pill bottle.
Lithium sucks the life out of my marrow.
My family, they do not know me.
And they do not care, to know me.
I gaze into Hades' little den of comfort.
When the shadows shift and shape,
I can see the hollowness of my future,
The futility of my unripe fruit.
Rotten, some of the apples, that's what
They all say. But I see the infant green
Yet, I also know it will never do.
At the hour, and season of eighteen
I slice into the cake of chocolate drywall,
And savor the aftertaste of adolescence.
The world is turning furious and fast,
A story told in storms and sighs,
But I have left the shoreline of my past
And all the hollowness of my eyes.
Let others count the letters in the stone
And hug the coldness of a distant sign;
I found the boardwalk where You made Your throne,
And reached across the dark to gather mine.
Now take this weary heart and fold it deep,
Where mercy runs too thick for words to measure,
Past every promise that I couldn't keep,
Into the gold of Your unchanging treasure.
Oh, pull me closer than the breath I breathe,
Enfold the center till the boundaries break—
A multi-layered cocoon of pure relief,
Where love is all that stays alive, awake.
No curb can hold the bruises of the throw,
No winter chills in the nesting of Your wing;
I simply walk the way the wind will blow,
And let the silent heart begin to sing.
Wrapped up in You, with mercy all around,
The storm can roar against the outer sea
But in the middle, on this sacred ground,
There’s only Jesus, and the rest of me.
My emotions are unstable
I am filled with hollowness
Dread presenting at every turn
Fear my turning into my friend
The future unknown is my battle
The air feels thick as treacle
The weight of the moon on my shoulders
Life’s adventures turn sour
My mind full of horror
Past instances and present times
Today is not a good day
I feel so alone but not lonely
The world moves fast around me
Betrayal burned deep in my mind
A tear slowly fall down my cheek
No one sees no one knows
Does a tear fall if no one sees it
At the dead of night
he came inside stealthily,
By daybreak he was gone.
He stole the essence of my flower,
left me with swaths of thorns in his wake,
a feeling of hollowness in my world.
~Contest: 1431 Any Form
~Sponsor: Brian Strand.
We chant unity like a prayer of hollow words,
Verses swallowed by the void they cannot fill.
We are one, our lips declare - our hearts deny,
A dichotomy born of colliding truths.
We hide behind a we that masks the rift,
A borrowed robe stitched with borrowed faith.
The more we cling, the more it comes undone,
Revealing the hollowness of a unity un-lived.
In the silence between breaths, truth whispers low,
A single spark that refuses to dim.
If words were bridges, let our steps build them,
Crossing chasms forged by fear, pride, and greed.
Let the myth dissolve not in sighs but deeds,
Actions louder than chants, touch over claim.
When service replaces sermon, we becomes truth,
Not costume, not chant - just breath, just fire.
Until silence learns to speak the truth we fear,
Unity lives not in words, but in lived, breathing air.
Be it the pulse that breaks the night,
Let every heart rewrite the hymn, and finally, be.
Adorned by days in rich décor,
nature refills her fresh bounty,
as Mother Earth sprinkles air with pure mist
caressing seeds of life ,
to tend roots which nourishes homes,
while generous arms gather fields
and herds of cattle, rows of birds glide free
regaling seasons' toil...
Gold the corn carried by townsfolk,
fruits riper than sun bursting sweet
a rare moment at ease like a dance alive,
a harvest in motion!
Yet this maiden longs for rest- time
her frame aging from burnt decay
while she awaits the shedding of soiled trees
to rest from cycles' dirge,
Where renewal of lush parade
changes grains,grass from dry to gold,
her pause, the charm of sweetened hollowness
heralds earth's blithe rebirth!
Lost Days
Lost in the darkness
lusting for a way out
Lurking in the blackness
longing for the tunnel
Blinking at the vague emptiness
stirring the hollowness
scaring the shadows
Scattering the darkened clouds
surfing for a ray of hope
Roaring at my doubts
as l map my way home
I tighten your tie, tighten in your lies, shine your shoes so I can see the real you and hold your eyes to mine in the big blue sky.
So I can see inside the hollowness that is you.
I died for a while
Withdrawing myself from the routines of life
Getting into a silent shell and observing
The world around me
The people around me
The people who are the world around me
All happy and content with my absence
The vacuum that I perceived would be created
In my absence
Was created within me
The hollowness was evident
The invisible strings detached
As if they never were
The mundane society grind continued
Will continue
Like the space occupied by a finger in water
Taken out and nothing was ever there
I enjoyed being dead
For there are no expectations from the deceased
Only the living dead
Bear the burden of as if running the whole world
I have now sprung back to life
Enlightened, that there are many illusions that we carry
That we belong…
@’dusk’…
Weightlessness
My soul floats "along with the thunder,"
Saturated with impending rain,
Scattered back throughout the earth,
Lost among ancient ruins and countless seas.
I awaken, feeling hollowness within my quivering heart.
Frantically getting dressed,
The front door blows open—
Listening to its siren's call.
Piece by fragile piece, I must absorb it back into my mortal coil.
Hike through deadly nightshade-tangled forests,
Sleep amongst somber bones in graveyards of contrition,
Push through arid, combusting deserts,
Swim through the waters of paranoia—
Riptides of mentholated melancholy.
Watch as the embers of dawn settle into the ashes of dusk.
Build a golden pyre upon the jaded shale,
Lay my weary bones on the cleansing flames,
Until I rise anew from the ashes,
Never again to be confined within corroded psychosocial cages.
As the presented light peered to cross the meadows yawn
the timbre of the winds hollowness plied through the forest arches low to high as daring darts two squirrels did fly to here and there if only to dine upon the seeds of which they-had in mind. Against the grass she howled once more to twist the branches as they bore then sail this melody as she had before.
There above it all where trees not stretched the wind unbarred
lest the clouds which etched thick tumultuous breaths tween here and there unmet and unkept…
i wonder if this feeling will pass.
if the skin rotting beneath my eyes will become a permanent color of blue,
if the bruises on my knees will fade to nothing more then flesh.
they say this feeling goes away as you age-
im not so sure about that.
i feel the agonizing sensation of pain rotting beneath my chest as the hot mountain water flows down my neck.
i think my soul will rot and burn as others grow flowers with the soil of their burdens,
i wish i could be as beautiful as those flowers.
to be born out of something so rotten and diseased yet still be as alive and beautiful.
if maybe this body of flesh and sin will free me and maybe for once, i’ll be happy purely again-
there will be no “this will be a happy memory” or “this feeling will not last, i’ll be sad again.”
my soul will simply never feel once again.
but even so- would it be better to feel nothing?
to not feel the unholiness beneath your chest that pumps blood.
to not feel the sorrow of once before,
would being numb be even more torturous as being alone?.
A vase,
simple, elegant
smooth symmetrical,
with only one side, surface
no inside nor outside, only in between
a narrow neck extends up from the bulb
twists back on itself to meld back into the vessel
with no perceptible seam, join or mark at the intersection
moving over its surface tracing, seemingly left and right, is not feasible
the vase, no flower bears, it holds no air, no water, only nothingness
no rim divides the in from out, no wall circles roundabout
a trace becomes an endless loop circling back on itself
with no start nor end, no curve, swerve or bend
the design is for eyes-only to perceive
for hands and touch get lost
slip off and drift away
in the vacuous
hollowness
of Klein
design
Sitting on the nook with head on her knees.
Soft were the eyes that looked at me.
Sunbeam flickers and falls on her face,
Like rainbows, flowers and a lovers gaze.
She loved me, and i could see it with my heart.
But the time wasn't right, and she had long fallen apart,
And suddenly she wasn't there at all.
No smiles, no warm eyes, no one to call,
And i broke down with the last bit of my power.
I wished to meet her again, but i was a coward.
I could not die, nor could i breath,
I wished, and prayed, and hoped, yet, it wasn't me.
She had to go, and i had to let her,
And the memories of my life were repeated, all in a blur.
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.