The brittle leaf of an old oak tree
Dangles off a fallen branch
Like hope that catches wind
One gust away from touching ground
Being dragged across rain-slick, cobblestone
Shredded, throbbing veins
Pulled apart by the teeth of wailing echoes,
sucking the color straight out
Dusted and bruised—gasping for air
It trembles
Desperate to hold on
Throbbing rapture, vibrant bliss hums
Holy Spirit fills us
Music of the spheres, within strums
Go with God without fuss
Beyond mental domain
Bound not by ego chain
Soma nectar ingrain
Eludes capture
Throbbing rapture
27-January-2022
Quietus
I crave for you like grass does in a drought,
My lips hunger for the taste of your lips.
I’ll love you forever don't ever doubt,
When we met, it was a full moon eclipse.
I ache for you when you are not with me,
You are my sunshine after a long night.
Being in your arms fills my soul with glee,
Your touch sends me high; a sensual flight.
Only you can quench my soul’s aching thirst,
Come to me, my love; satisfy this throb.
If you don't appease my desire, I'll burst,
Sweetheart, your soft kisses will do the job.
My darling, I lie here, my being shakes,
I need your cure; to rid me of my aches.
04-23-2021
Contest: Ache
Sponsor: Constance La France
Now at an advanced crotchety age
namely three score plus one Earth
orbitz around the nearest star,
yours truly revisits
poignant episodes foisting
launching snapchatting
one after another crisis
sidelining ability to cope
pursuing life, liberty
and pursuit of happiness
whiz hard by at light speed.
Though just a kid during third industrial revolution,
I remember feeling lost in space (age) and agog
at being on the cusp, when infrastructure
(regarding blueprint describing
information superhighway,
technological/computer transformation
would when soon after graduating
Methacton high school
(mine alma mater)
quickly usher The Fourth Industrial Revolution
a way of describing the blurring of boundaries
between the physical, digital, and biological worlds,
a fusion of advances in artificial intelligence (AI),
robotics, the Internet of Things (IoT), 3D printing,
genetic engineering, quantum computing,
and other technologies.
Nothing is as close to me as a throbbing heart.
Dark, deep and loud.
Pulling me deeper, pulling me close.
Drenching my body in thunder.
You make me scream, you make me more.
You make me what I am, dark, deep and a dangerous beast.
The throbbing of his heart, Translation of carlos Bousono’s sonnet : Los golpes de su corazon
(According to the anthology editor, Alejandro D. Amusco, this sonnet with a different title first appeared in Bousono’s collection : Invasion de la Realidad, 1962, and this revised sonnet : « In its new form – the sense of the poem varies radically – it stops being a love poem to become (one of) an auto-elegy. » I admit it would be futile to keep to the rhyme scheme : abba, abba, cca, bba. T. Wignesan)
I know the throbbing in your breast
has become scarce. Heart, slow down
your passionate movement
and make light the painful groans.
for this body where my feelings
concentrate all its love, where I feel
death at each ashen beat
of grave and oppressing repetitions.
Let sleep your heart, cross my casing
of death lowering into this dark soil
and there keep throbbing in all the senses.
Hark the strings ! Heart, slow down
your passionate movement
of your grave and oppressing repetitions.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
Thunderous dark swarms
Cold stinging hail feels like thorns
Whelp like bee sting forms
By Robb A. Kopp
maybe its the enviorment
or the throbbing in my head.
maybe that I have no home
not even a bed.
It could be that Im scared of change
or scared it wont be bad.
Stuborn in my first instincts
I wont leave what I have.
They all say Im not alone
they know just how it feels
I understand that we all cry
but were crying different tears.
And no amount of pretty words
or harsh lectures of the truth
will change the way my mind is set
and what you know I'll do.
Chronicled as part of history
the reality gives meaning;
it's a pathway to move along,
a commitment to future dream,
a response to what is ideal.
Addressed as a piece of literature
the struggles involved with one another.
It's a life of experience that forms,
a historical menu to savor,
an enormous task to fulfill.
Lived as a language I best hear
with silence and profound meaning;
It's a human action and reaction,
a point to what we're here for;
being called to serve -
a measure to Christian perfection.
Proclaimed as a gospel of inspiration,
with diversity of cultures
that runs through this generation,
its texture, zest and color,
aptly describes, "we're one nation."
Being grateful for various reasons
with different contexts and situations.
They're hallmarks to great civilization;
with the continuing growth amid some afflictions,
a message of hope, worthy of revelation.
This sickness is throbbing me.
It's haunting.
And there's nothing
I can do about it.
The way I love you,
Is way more than you
Know.
There's this version I see,
Of you and me.
When you do things like that
And you touch hearts like that,
It's really causing me to see,
That I'm throbbing to see you.
You're the trap I want to
To fall into.
But, I want
This contagiousness to not ever go away.
I want to telly ou. And no hurt will hurt me.
This throbbing won't fade.
But...it won't haunt me.
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.