[INFJ] INFJ Poetry Thread - Page 643

INFJ Poetry Thread

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This is a discussion on INFJ Poetry Thread within the INFJ Forum - The Protectors forums, part of the NF's Temperament Forum- The Dreamers category; ...

  1. #6421

    MY TRIPTYCH

    On summer solstice, on my wall,
    Three pictures meet the dawning light:
    The lady flirts; two warriors fight
    Across their frames, but one won’t fall—

    Ah, no! Their place in Time’s long view
    Is not outcome, but rather striv-
    Ing; and, no less, the Dame won’t wive
    To either—hers to hope, not do.

    As time progresses, angling rays
    Illuminate successive parts,
    Not all at once; and by these arts
    They seem to fare in different ways,

    And yet, they don’t: There is no Hence.
    The evening darkens, goes to night,
    But still they love, but still they fight
    No less than we: Their fate, suspense.
    Dalien, Aletheia, Stopping By Woods and 3 others thanked this post.

  2. #6422
    INFJ

    He lords it under me;
    He welds asunder me.
    Ah!
    My Thunder-whisper.
    Ah!
    My Desert-sea.

  3. #6423
    ENFP

    Tripped on a trap and dropped a snap
    The vision's filled with red and black
    Light seems to appear right after the act
    Eliminating all of the mishap
    Aletheia and AnneM thanked this post.

  4. #6424

    1
    dream water chants frantic
    as an achingly still light
    reveals me bare
    and symphony

    2
    ask me about the wind
    what could it mean when
    soaring by like moon
    from day to death
    I am music, mad, shining

    3
    swim within the lake of life
    in you
    I will rain delirious above
    sky watches want as beauty
    need urges spring
    so I recall love
    you are a thousand ships
    always and never passing

    4
    sweet friend
    you must worship no one
    raw honey runs through you
    sea blue crushing girl into woman
    lust luscious maenad
    heaving I did cry out
    but not for him

  5. #6425

    Quote Originally Posted by Marvin the Dendroid View Post
    The dead swans lay in the stagnant pool.
    They lay. They rotted. They turned Around occasionally.
    Bits of flesh dropped off them from Time to time.
    And sank into the pool's mire.
    They also smelt a great deal.
    As a representative for the celebrated poet, Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings of 37 Wasp Villas, Greenbridge, Essex, GB10 1LL, United Kingdom - We demand that you immediately (A) cease and desist your unlawful copying of Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings copyrighted work and (B) provide us with prompt written assurances, signed in triplicate, sent in, sent back, queried, lost, found, subjected to public enquiry, lost again, and finally buried in soft peat for three months and recycled as firelighters, that you will cease and desist from further infringement of Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings' copyrighted works.
    Dalien and Marvin the Dendroid thanked this post.

  6. #6426

    Espirit

    The sounds feel their flush trembling
    Like loose silk flapping the breeze, soft
    tears cotton their persuasion of
    Slipping on the pearls as the feet know
    where the rains and cigarette tones
    shiver a rasp with gutsy bass smooth
    As the visceral timpani collects
    pencil shavings dusting their scratch
    The world dances with its meeting grab
    hands strumming fist and lovely
    As sooth lays down where flow rushes all
    that the sounds give their listen
    A sensuous lady of silence sedately—
    Breath
    Llyralen thanked this post.

  7. #6427

    Prophetic Silence

    There was this silence underneath
    It had a rhythm like a feather whisking
    Turning the eyes to hear what was not seen
    Could you really say the air was thinner
    Where you stood straining like scissors

    Claiming that the cut was a loving bequeath
    It had a rhythm like a fingernail risking
    Turning the ears to see what was not rasping
    Could you really say the air was thicker
    Where you stood glaring like blizzards

    There was that silence underneath
    It had a rhythm like a cursive printing
    Turning the heart to see what was not clasping
    Could you really say the air was quicker
    Where you stood frowning like wizards

    Claiming that the air was a magical sheath
    It had a rhythm like a pencil unstinting
    Turning the stone to touch what was not glean
    Could you really say the water was deeper
    Where you stood drowning like bleakness

    There was that silence underneath
    It had a rhythm like an arrow flinting
    Turning the hands to see what was not coming
    Could you really say the water was firmer
    Where you stood staring like specious

    Claiming that the sight was a palmistry hold
    It had a rhythm like a wool scratching
    Turning the eyes to see what was not stitching
    Could you really say the water was coarser
    Where you stood graining like phoeniceus

    There was silence underneath whispering all
    Llyralen thanked this post.

  8. #6428

    My Mother

    I can attest that there were few still moments
    Still the still was like miniatures in green velvet
    Intricacies you could stare and stare
    And never get to the end of staring
    A tiny pagoda in sand from Chinatown,
    the perfect yellow wildflower a millimeter wide
    the languid Fibanachi curl from the tip of a fiddlehead fern
    The cross-stich on the table cloth stern great grandmother brought over on a death ship
    There were times you fed me ice chips to keep my wheezes at bay all night
    There were times you knew, really knew my face
    Gifts that only you would know would change my face to light

    Later I was obsessed with your unhappiness and why
    Later I realized I would never know
    Last edited by Llyralen; 07-20-2019 at 01:01 AM.
    Lady of Clockwork and Fru2 thanked this post.

  9. #6429
    INFJ

    @Llyralen I LOVED that!!!
    Llyralen thanked this post.

  10. #6430

    I really appreciate you saying so, @AnneM ! I thrive on a word of encouragement!


     
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