[x]

The Concept of PerspectiveI unfurl with lavender,
wild and stretching possibilities
within velvet serenity.

I sway joyously with conducting trees
and fall with musical, tumbling leaves,
recognition whole;

and for once,
time does not govern
but witnesses.

I change like the seasons,
no complicated reason...
just that I do;

it is as they always say:
some things, they never change.

Sea
Her love was bone white,
unblemished and
stunning

[ but never like diamonds. ]

Truth then became water to
pruning fingers and splitting lips,
while she drowned
in the mouth
of a liar like me.

UnfoundedI cram words within murky, hollow spaces,
replicating ways in which blood fills a wound.

I squeeze articles and adjectives—
supporting metaphors and similes—
into tight-fitting corners,
until that which is empty begins to bloat.

The ache of something missing,
the loss of one internal, now painfully unknown:
it finds no satisfaction within passion
and phrases so desperately created, upheld.

Why give transparent, misleading hope…
Does pleasure derive from humiliation—
the catalyzing of previously weakened hearts?
Where is the limit of cruelty defined,
if not in the cries and weeping of dreams:

Language wilts

04 - Remember MeThink not of decay when reapers lay claim,
Nor of sharp loss in following mourning;
On that day let hushed pleasantries acclaim.
And kiss the life from dulled eyes, unseeing.

Find not thy feet above flower-laid stones:
‘Neath earthly linen I shan’t rouse for thee.
So whether memories make new or old:
Beloved love, remember me fondly.

Sell thy sorrows to swift merchanting winds,
Be stolen by thy existence and time.
Overlook me for sanity’s defense,
But discard me not to the undefined.

My life doth re-begin through memory,
So my beloved love: remember me.

.Were We Not MarionettesI bend
as
she bends,
arms a graceful
bridge of mourning—

our eyes
rippling plains of remembrance.
(but at least we remember)

I lean beside
her,
both hopeless
heaps of wood
and string;

pirouettes fall
in time to blurry
rivers

and irises plead
only as allowed:

moisturizing this
shell of
splintered skin.

Memory's ConsumptionI call to you in Autumn colors—
in naked trees,
which creak and groan
under weights of solemn sky.
Hear me…
Feel me…
Longing swells like appetite:
insatiable and aching;
breastbones creak atop pining hearts,
which pulse in lonely torment.

Eyes become searchlights,
wild hearts a detector…
while minds observe the
sweeping of memories beneath curled leaves:
perfect for concealing,
forgetting.

but far from forgotten is the feeling—
the reality:
I burrow beneath crinkled leaves
and hope
to be
found.

With every lungful of solitude
I breathe,
With every exhale of painful dependen

had I wished for sight.My wish-on-me star,
whose ears I filled to secret’s brim,
whose implosions I hemmed
still layers deeper:

I’m sorry I wore stitches
and scabs with try-agains.

You sacrificed paper dreams,
Crumpling and sending airplane
answers until my skies were
wishgiving.

Apologies have sweetened
on tight-pressed lips—
a thick and sultry wine—

but you’re now constellating
apparitions, in city skyscapes;
and my vocal chords
are coarse sand

and silence.

ChrysalisThese stammering heartbeats
felt in stuttering airways,
where butterflies came out as words of love;
caught harshly within your net,
subduing and possessing.

My innocence was shucked,
my freedom spread and pinned to paper…
before lips devoured me
with passions normally concealed—
with words left, and felt,
within each humid stretch of silence.

With each cocooned metamorphosis,
you kept me confined warmly…
stationary wings loved, still;
It is as my heart,
which loves until beat silent…

and silent I wish I was,
instead of loving and living
within seeds of carefully tended
naivety.

because words unspoken

MelancholiaI crawled beneath the skin,
nails taking crescent moons
to labored arteries,
where life birthed.

I gave rash to skin, rippling in marrow,
bulging flesh and pore…
all to break free.

I laid beneath scarlet muscle
sick with Loneliness: a bittersweet
disease of rusting hearts.

I let it throb, pound—ache,
sulking within the cradle of spine,
rocking joints to solemn sleep…

and how easily resignation
was acquired,
for they were weary,
used to hunching to sorrows
resolute

and chronic.

In October.She is chameleons,

bare-tree umbrellas
somewhere beneath
Autumn’s underbelly,

beside once-remembered friends
of once-remembered pasts,

falling fragmented in kitchen sinks
and cleaning bottles,

still
breaking hearts for puzzles,

still
bandaging wounds on tables
of answers without questions;

and she is still unknown
come next October.

CrescendoCellos sing an agony of the heart;
an astringent song of parting,
tearing at tears burrowed deep within the iris.

Emptiness fills the void of your absence,
accompanied by an intolerable yearning
which asphyxiates me, submerges me
within tears I leave unshed.

Please mollify me, liberate me,
of your reminiscence, of this attentive desertion;
my trembling whispers cannot stray from your name.
I cannot dream of alien touches, or others' devoted affections:
the salvation provided for the heart I keep in darkness.
and I find I cannot blind it to the joys of light once entirely experienced,
and so candidly felt.

I blam

a new ocean to explore.Selling souvenirs,
falling through the atmosphere;

my heart is nothing
but a thread on unsure sleeves,
fraying at the seams.

Yet I still come home to
your crystal clavicles,

giving salt to shores;

a new ocean to explore.

TearsFeel the rain dripping on your face
Sitting somewhere in an unknown place
You might just had your heart broken
Those feelings of yours go unspoken

Let the rain wash your pain away
Let it wash away and find your way
Let the rain slowly heal your wounds
It heals your heart and will hide your wounds

The rain will stay with you for years
It's one of those things that always cares
Because in the rain nobody will see your tears

Stardust.I partook in the poison
of your miracle, for
I believed you a magician:

You pulled chronic weariness
from my marrow—

my faith,
from hazy depths grown
too accustomed.

The eggs spoiled fast:
you pulled from your hat
an act of distrust,
and you left me

with stardust,

with stardust.

MakarI am discovering poetry in lines of genius --
fragments of a broken existence
where only misfit pieces build the puzzle
and discarding the words like carbon dioxide

They are drowning me in a dictionary of experiences --
inhale a panicked definition of life
and exhale an ocean of ink and paper
with no surface in sight

every artist should die for their passion

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Quieting the Sparrow

by ~Nullibicity, Oct 12, 2012, 6:55:03 PM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

_{"Release me, now…
   I desire wind's flight."}

You do not yet understand
the thrashing of feelings—
the bite of crooning words;

You know not the cruelty of man,
nor the tip of  his arrow…

Man hunts and stalks
beauty with sardonic blatancy—
elated and brimmed with delight.
He snuffs it out with senses akin to savage beasts,
crippling  prey with fearsome teeth.

However, amongst fear and shattered aspirations,
there is no greater rush than to hunt
and be hunted…

but once caught:
reality wakes cold.

Quieting the Sparrowby ~Nullibicity

Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

_{Those who are truly pure... those are the people you just can't stand to see crippled by the darker side of life.
...not that life is all bad, but it tends to harbor shadows of despair. This, of course, is my own personal opinion.

Feedback would help me greatly: I am still unsure about this piece.}

~BelaRoseWolf Oct 15, 2012 Student Writer

This is an amazing piece!

It reminds me a bit of the "Allegory of the Cave." I love the choice of words and the way they all flow together. Excellent work~

~Nullibicity Oct 21, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Why thank you! What a compliment!
I apologize for not replying sooner. Lately, my schooling has kept me busy. I am very appreciative of such kind words, though, and I'm happy to be replying now: You've made me smile with every comment

~BelaRoseWolf Oct 21, 2012 Student Writer

You're welcome!

And it's fine! I've been quite busy as well... Though I'm quite glad to make you smile!

~Nullibicity Oct 21, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

I hope your schedule then opens up to allow you more time and relaxation! Recovery is definitely important; it makes one feel so much lighter.

I am glad, too: Smiling is something I am very fond of--when it's genuine

~BelaRoseWolf Oct 22, 2012 Student Writer

Well, not really... And it's only to get worse until early November, but I'm fine!

I agree with that sentiment! ^^

~Nullibicity Oct 22, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

I'm sorry to hear that

. I hope you do not forget to at least take time for yourself, then! I wish you luck with the rest of this month, and I hope it passes with ease... if at all possible.

~BelaRoseWolf Oct 23, 2012 Student Writer

Yeah... And thank you!

~Nullibicity Oct 28, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

You are certainly welcome!

*L0NE-W0lf Oct 13, 2012

I think the beginning is like foreshadowing but when that's used in poetry it usually confuses the reader and so the beginning becomes almost fuzzy or sometimes forgotten but once the reader finishes the poem it all makes sense. I think if you wanted a stronger beginning it shouldn't consist of that. I absolutely understand keeping the, "Release me, now…I desire wind's flight" in the beginning which acts as the prompt for the story of the proverb. I would move the parts, "You do not yet understand...and the polluting sorrows she distributes" to the end. This way it's a proverbial structure like Aesops' fables. This is the story then, this is the proverb. I would even delete that part as it seems not absolutely necessary.

This is all subjective because, this is all about perspective! That sounded like a jingle.

Again, It's just one suggestion, naturally it doesn't mean your poem is bad. On the contrary, it made it's statement. I just think it could have been done in a more effective way. But again that's just a personal opinion.

I know you love getting feedback especially critiques so I left you this, I could've just said good job, I'm not sure if I should have just said that.

~Nullibicity Oct 13, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Oh, please don't feel uncertain about leaving such helpful critique! I reread the poem, and I've decided you're right; those two lines underneath the introduction don't really add anything but length. If I had presented them in a different way, maybe they could have contributed, but when I removed them while reading... well, I quite liked the flow! It also gave the poem a bit more order and structure, which is something I've found myself struggling with as of late.

It actually did sound rather like a jingle! It's probably going to get stuck in my head a little later. Once I put a tune to things, they tend to not leave my mind for a while

Oh there is no doubt. You are definitely right in saying it could have been done more effectively; lately, writer's block is creeping up within my normal cycle. When I can work with it, sometimes I produce the best of my poems... but when I fight it, I also produce horrible, disorganized pieces. I wouldn't say this poem was necessarily the result of a fight with writer's block, but I was definitely struggling for creativity.

I do love critiques (especially if they're so honest and helpful)! I thank you, once again, for leaving me one: You always point out such valid things

I will remove those lines, and maybe I'll come back later to see if there isn't something else I could do to perhaps improve it.

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