The Linguist's Hunt/Poetry by Christin M. Hansen
Blog of published author Christin M. Hansen. Postings of my original poetry, excerpts from my works of fiction, short stories, essays and opinion. Topics include social commentary, politics, spirituality, emotion, love, erotica, relationships, humanity. My book of poetry, The Hymn of Lost Souls is published by DIPpress.
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
On Soft
https://www.evernote.com/shard/s300/sh/6f41a144-2bb9-4a12-a81a-b2385cf9b96f/af081b3bd81eeee5e70c601944697f8e
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
by the shore, by the sea
Flush the weary light of saviors
Against a cheek so emblazened with divide
The starlight of peasants and paupers
Engraving paths into the gray of tides
Where footsteps sink into the mercy
Heaven thick with hope and sand
The shore of worlds standing
At the pulpit
Where attention lears into the grand
Enshrined like clever mourning
Weeps endowed with lifted hand
Sorrow like the dove
Of counted souls
Who fare in shadows longing
And burn quietly into the end
Their fables small and bound
Elegant and wide for searchlights
Driven high
And tantamount to frail beginnings
And ever stated ends
Against a cheek so emblazened with divide
The starlight of peasants and paupers
Engraving paths into the gray of tides
Where footsteps sink into the mercy
Heaven thick with hope and sand
The shore of worlds standing
At the pulpit
Where attention lears into the grand
Enshrined like clever mourning
Weeps endowed with lifted hand
Sorrow like the dove
Of counted souls
Who fare in shadows longing
And burn quietly into the end
Their fables small and bound
Elegant and wide for searchlights
Driven high
And tantamount to frail beginnings
And ever stated ends
declarations of independents
Ribbons of whole heartache leap from the open page of turning tithes. I am sent here in soluable frequency to spire darkness with a spear of light, hoisted high above my sunny head I am turn down the noise and offer you silence with a vengeance to feel. i am unity in overcoming I am selling you hope i am hurried and shushed out I am sore from the shrapnel of life's dark hauntings i AM poised to reflect. I am the shape of something unseen and the likes of me have never been defined. I am Gods own, I am no ones tether or toy. I am hurdles behind, before, and in front I am celebrations of love left to stand in the sun I am not free. I am running for the door with demons to slay I am slippery to grips untame and I believe I am something and someone good and true, and as I wind down this windfall, now who are you?
christened violet
though noir, lent and grand
well and fare, stairway beckoning
and bell of a stare
take time with knowing
and rest your last spell
in the cradle of day
where lives living are spared
testament of the beggar
the blind man's repair
the red flag of brutal waging
and the conquest laid bare
has eyes for its ending
and never the stair
Labels:
death,
life,
metaphysics,
poem,
poetry,
spiritual metaphor
blooderflies
Here they spark a curious fire
Where blades align the curse with the cost
Incomparable and vicious
Leaving the left to the lost
Bleak the trade come ominous
Retracing that bloody kiss
Vials of life wait like henchmen
Omens flickering within glass
Held and stained to spend
And acrue my muddy virtue
To temper life to last
I speak now I stand to recognize
To complete bold circles now to past
Come will my thirst to fly above
Clouds and heights deep and vast
Pressure on wrists pulse
And seep to bleed
Come drink your moments fast
Curl your mind around a mystery
And sever light from last and to believe
The noon lies beyond the need
And heaven in a gasp
Where blades align the curse with the cost
Incomparable and vicious
Leaving the left to the lost
Bleak the trade come ominous
Retracing that bloody kiss
Vials of life wait like henchmen
Omens flickering within glass
Held and stained to spend
And acrue my muddy virtue
To temper life to last
I speak now I stand to recognize
To complete bold circles now to past
Come will my thirst to fly above
Clouds and heights deep and vast
Pressure on wrists pulse
And seep to bleed
Come drink your moments fast
Curl your mind around a mystery
And sever light from last and to believe
The noon lies beyond the need
And heaven in a gasp
ask of you
Wash me clean in springs that gleam
With no poison in their flows
Find me still in gloried health
And bring me feasts in stowe
Track my train to trips for laughs
And burn my oyster guard
Find my little pearl of worth
And deliver it unharmed
With no poison in their flows
Find me still in gloried health
And bring me feasts in stowe
Track my train to trips for laughs
And burn my oyster guard
Find my little pearl of worth
And deliver it unharmed
Labels:
creative writing,
emotion,
life,
love,
poem,
poetry,
relationships,
writing
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