Our conversations;
I sit consumed by your fire,
words frozen in ice;
Waiting just to slip
as cracks destroy solid ground;
Fall, but you still breathe;
Chilled lake in motion
a circle that does not stop;
Resistance draining;
Cold, hypothermic;
Reality is thawing,
innuendo drips;
Lingering soulful kisses
dance all over goose fleshed skin.
my broken heart
shivers in water waiting
hypothermic for the inclusion
of loneliness devoted
as satellite hands end
in faithfulness blind
and burnt as a violet
beneath a Saharan sun
engaged to violence
i'm not
Jack and
she's not
Jill but
down
we tumble
down
the hill
we reached
summit of our
Everest ever
perhaps lasting
love
but the bucket
did i kick
the bucket
high
on elevation
but not
wanting to
climatize i'm
just going to
die in bliss
yes this
being once
lower than
lower why
wouldn't i
want to stay
higher
then
high
so i know
when i
close my
eyes
embracing
myself as if
trying to get
warm
i'm really
really
starting to
hold you
in my
dream of
hypothermic
form
so
warm
Winter sweater clings
as Spring springs forward in March
— hypothermic knit
3/12/2018
Looking at you,
I don't feel dead anymore
Once upon a time I was found hypothermic in the rain
Now I am Good Soup for the soul of those that surround me
Looking at you,
Gone are my inconvenient insecurities
Not too long ago I was internally blood dry beating myself up inside
Nowadays I am as pure as the crystallinity of Spring Water.....
Looking at you,
I notice that I have grown more knowledgeable of the Definition of Love
The beauty that I once lusted for is now ashes in the vaporization of age
The nature of the art is no longer recycled....but a Flawless, Immovable Creation....
Snow fell upon the marble eyes of the dead,
And the magpies pecked the buttons on the coats,
Drawn by the gleam of dulling brass attract,
As the ravens sought the softness of the throats.
Trees in naked staggers scratched the skies,
And the guns in the distance snapped like cracking ice,
In the pools of oil, flames guttered slowly out,
On the scalps of corpses froze the cooling lice.
In the minds of the generals thoughts akin to grief
Wept not for the loss of life but loss of war,
And men growing hypothermic in retreat,
Felt the stilling of their blood forever more.
How to withstand the burning reap of cold
When it bites with frost the toes ‘till black and gone,
How to withstand the march of retreat in winter
When winter marches on and on and on.
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.