versutiloquent - Hello Poetry

A wild forest is she, a covert forest is she Donned in a sable jacket and thin-rimmed lenses In this city jungle, to suffocate is the norm But her presence is a breath of the freshest air Air that stirs life in the corners of my lungs In the hollows at the pit of my stomach In my arteries, in all places until my puny fingertips A wild forest, her sockets as designated firmaments The palace of browns that blinded me, ensnared me And when they curved into midnight crescents I lost my breath, I missed a life beat Her visage, a stunning union of night and day A sight that douses a pleasing warmth on my frigid soul And enlivening chills on my every bone Honey-glossed dusty rose petals are her mouth Their softness still yet to be known With a smile so enthralling, laugh so riveting Hers is the symphony that renders birds listening Words that emulate soft rustles of juvenile leaves Ironic how they placate and intensify quakes in my ribs She is a sturdy tree, lacking beside crystalline skyscrapers But her branches promise sojourn for my fatigued frame A bed of grass drizzled with morning dew, her palms Vines that I wish to braid my bi-colored locks, her fingers And her skin, the bark my curious fingers want to trace The surface where my nails desire to carve my name And she, in her glorious entirety Is a signal for the beginning of the stampede Sending my gait unsteady Cajoling my stone bricks to remodel its tracks She is a wild forest amidst the bustling cities A land of fertile soil with wild plants and flowers springing From her chest, her wonderful mind And I, once an eon of drought Now an eager seed wishing to grow With her healthy yellows and greens, I yearn to grow

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Mar 30, 2018

Mar 30, 2018 at 4:20 AM UTC

Wild Forest

A wild forest is she, a covert forest is she Donned in a sable jacket and thin-rimmed lenses In this city jungle, to suffocate is the norm But her presence is a breath of the freshest air Air that stirs life in the corners of my lungs In the hollows at the pit of my stomach In my arteries, in all places until my puny fingertips A wild forest, her sockets as designated firmaments The palace of browns that blinded me, ensnared me And when they curved into midnight crescents I lost my breath, I missed a life beat Her visage, a stunning union of night and day A sight that douses a pleasing warmth on my frigid soul And enlivening chills on my every bone Honey-glossed dusty rose petals are her mouth Their softness still yet to be known With a smile so enthralling, laugh so riveting Hers is the symphony that renders birds listening Words that emulate soft rustles of juvenile leaves Ironic how they placate and intensify quakes in my ribs She is a sturdy tree, lacking beside crystalline skyscrapers But her branches promise sojourn for my fatigued frame A bed of grass drizzled with morning dew, her palms Vines that I wish to braid my bi-colored locks, her fingers And her skin, the bark my curious fingers want to trace The surface where my nails desire to carve my name And she, in her glorious entirety Is a signal for the beginning of the stampede Sending my gait unsteady Cajoling my stone bricks to remodel its tracks She is a wild forest amidst the bustling cities A land of fertile soil with wild plants and flowers springing From her chest, her wonderful mind And I, once an eon of drought Now an eager seed wishing to grow With her healthy yellows and greens, I yearn to grow

36

I received a query that grasped my attention A certain query that induced me to ponder To recall the yesterdays and the yesternights Why don’t you write as much, someone wonders The curious fellow deems my works lovely And went another mile to call me, the poet, just the same Similarly, I pause to ask myself Are lethargic hands and an uninspired heart to blame? I say no and I disprove this idea Never have I ceased to write all this time I’ve adapted various methods and materials I’ve learned that words and verses are not prime Now, I deliver metaphors directly from my fingertips My every touch is a verse, every breath is a poetic line I carve words on wood, on the fleeting breeze, on warm skin My works are now cherished moments I entwine Threads out of smiles and laughter, I weave into blankets The comfort i turn to in days with somber frigid weather My lingering gazes are poems unconventionally spoken To write about desire is abortive, to feel the burn is better A moment with another is an extemporaneous collaboration My friends and lover are writers in their own right Whether amateur or sophisticated, they create poetry I conceal pens and papers lest they flee in fright So you see, I have never stopped composing I've been writing in ways the eyes might not see I’m a breathing vessel of born and unborn literary creations A writer with a penchant for a form called free

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May 1, 2017

May 1, 2017 at 4:24 AM UTC

April 16th

I received a query that grasped my attention A certain query that induced me to ponder To recall the yesterdays and the yesternights Why don’t you write as much, someone wonders The curious fellow deems my works lovely And went another mile to call me, the poet, just the same Similarly, I pause to ask myself Are lethargic hands and an uninspired heart to blame? I say no and I disprove this idea Never have I ceased to write all this time I’ve adapted various methods and materials I’ve learned that words and verses are not prime Now, I deliver metaphors directly from my fingertips My every touch is a verse, every breath is a poetic line I carve words on wood, on the fleeting breeze, on warm skin My works are now cherished moments I entwine Threads out of smiles and laughter, I weave into blankets The comfort i turn to in days with somber frigid weather My lingering gazes are poems unconventionally spoken To write about desire is abortive, to feel the burn is better A moment with another is an extemporaneous collaboration My friends and lover are writers in their own right Whether amateur or sophisticated, they create poetry I conceal pens and papers lest they flee in fright So you see, I have never stopped composing I've been writing in ways the eyes might not see I’m a breathing vessel of born and unborn literary creations A writer with a penchant for a form called free

28

Though not at fault, I sing apologies Seeking clemency through melodious songs and broken symphonies These hands cannot concoct the needed remedies And are notorious for exacerbating tragedies We traversed a single road and at the divarication A duet of goodbyes signaled the shifting of attention The surroundings committed an aberration Yielding you years of consistent tribulations Enigmatic is how the unpredictable universe shall eternally operate To its oscillating desires, the hands of time convulate I deem us victims of it and its partner, mischievous fate When the world slowed down for you, they made mine accelerate

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Feb 8, 2017

Feb 8, 2017 at 1:23 PM UTC

Yet Another Apology

Though not at fault, I sing apologies Seeking clemency through melodious songs and broken symphonies These hands cannot concoct the needed remedies And are notorious for exacerbating tragedies We traversed a single road and at the divarication A duet of goodbyes signaled the shifting of attention The surroundings committed an aberration Yielding you years of consistent tribulations Enigmatic is how the unpredictable universe shall eternally operate To its oscillating desires, the hands of time convulate I deem us victims of it and its partner, mischievous fate When the world slowed down for you, they made mine accelerate

12

Summer days and spring mornings have gone Every leaf has fallen from its parent tree Homes are now blanketed with thick ivory snow Under this pitch-black sky, I stood alone Nothing but the wind's breeze as my company I stood alone; I have always stood alone Miles, I have travelled and many faces, I have descried I walked on different lands but to no avail Summer nights and spring mornings passed Snowy nights and the sight of falling leaves I have seen Under this pitch-black sky, alone, I still stood alone

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Nov 11, 2016

Nov 11, 2016 at 7:25 AM UTC

Missing

Summer days and spring mornings have gone Every leaf has fallen from its parent tree Homes are now blanketed with thick ivory snow Under this pitch-black sky, I stood alone Nothing but the wind's breeze as my company I stood alone; I have always stood alone Miles, I have travelled and many faces, I have descried I walked on different lands but to no avail Summer nights and spring mornings passed Snowy nights and the sight of falling leaves I have seen Under this pitch-black sky, alone, I still stood alone

11

Little girls, little boys Candy canes and flashy toys A soft call, an enticing treat Two obedient little feet A huge smile, an invitation A fun adventure to damnation Restricted visions, muffled cries Sugar bricks leading to demise

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Nov 11, 2016

Nov 11, 2016 at 7:20 AM UTC

Tricks or Treats

Little girls, little boys Candy canes and flashy toys A soft call, an enticing treat Two obedient little feet A huge smile, an invitation A fun adventure to damnation Restricted visions, muffled cries Sugar bricks leading to demise

8

Fabrics gone, all we are is perceivably bare Clad only in conspicuous licentious flare Every kiss delivers quakes on the planes of my frame Your every touch sets my skin aflame Your words and whispers are bewitching spells Expelling continent thoughts that in my head dwells Each ****** sends me a hundred miles closer to the sky Each stroke deliberately guiding me to fly And once our souls finally amalgamate Lines on your palms lead me to the gates A place where there's only blissful demise The gates, the entry to carnal paradise

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Oct 7, 2016

Oct 7, 2016 at 11:03 AM UTC

The Peak

Fabrics gone, all we are is perceivably bare Clad only in conspicuous licentious flare Every kiss delivers quakes on the planes of my frame Your every touch sets my skin aflame Your words and whispers are bewitching spells Expelling continent thoughts that in my head dwells Each ****** sends me a hundred miles closer to the sky Each stroke deliberately guiding me to fly And once our souls finally amalgamate Lines on your palms lead me to the gates A place where there's only blissful demise The gates, the entry to carnal paradise

12

What is mighty and great Is feeble, and the high Is merely just a low, and I Was left as an unsightly mess After a stupendous tsunami Of amalgamated emotions Has entirely devoured me in a Fleeting second; loud sirens Wish not to exacerbate But to hinder the havoc That will surely occur Once the growing desire To finally liberate what Has been kept and hidden; The mind defiantly refuses to Heed warnings, for a maelstrom Of rejection compared to That of regret that is so sheer Is a far better choice And for this reason I Fervently wish that I will Be given the opportunity so I Can go beyond just a spark And then commence a wildfire For now I am a mess in misery As I wait for the stars to Align, and the shackles to bid adieu

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Aug 3, 2016

Aug 3, 2016 at 1:25 AM UTC

Admiring, Loving, Waiting

What is mighty and great Is feeble, and the high Is merely just a low, and I Was left as an unsightly mess After a stupendous tsunami Of amalgamated emotions Has entirely devoured me in a Fleeting second; loud sirens Wish not to exacerbate But to hinder the havoc That will surely occur Once the growing desire To finally liberate what Has been kept and hidden; The mind defiantly refuses to Heed warnings, for a maelstrom Of rejection compared to That of regret that is so sheer Is a far better choice And for this reason I Fervently wish that I will Be given the opportunity so I Can go beyond just a spark And then commence a wildfire For now I am a mess in misery As I wait for the stars to Align, and the shackles to bid adieu

27

At a distance, a harp begins to play Mellifluous tunes attempting to capture the heart astray Every single note pleasant to the ears Every note reviving the comatose fears Beautiful is the song as it is enchanting Through agile fingers, a masterpiece in the making But as the riveting sound cavorts the insipid walls Dispelled memories return like raging falls Strumming the strings equate a pronounced invitation Melodic verses transmogrify into proposed elation But the rhythm is alarmingly familiar Whose end averts from the spectacular The harps plays, the harp sings Obnoxious bells produce clamorous rings For the songs it sings are dulcet But the notes may be disguised bayonettes The comely harp will continue creating its art A fragile bubble vulnerable to approaching darts As the music invades every corner May the north be an inexorable commander

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May 27, 2016

May 27, 2016 at 2:42 AM UTC

Warnings

At a distance, a harp begins to play Mellifluous tunes attempting to capture the heart astray Every single note pleasant to the ears Every note reviving the comatose fears Beautiful is the song as it is enchanting Through agile fingers, a masterpiece in the making But as the riveting sound cavorts the insipid walls Dispelled memories return like raging falls Strumming the strings equate a pronounced invitation Melodic verses transmogrify into proposed elation But the rhythm is alarmingly familiar Whose end averts from the spectacular The harps plays, the harp sings Obnoxious bells produce clamorous rings For the songs it sings are dulcet But the notes may be disguised bayonettes The comely harp will continue creating its art A fragile bubble vulnerable to approaching darts As the music invades every corner May the north be an inexorable commander

20

One, two, three, two, five, seven Rhythmless feet clad in branded shoes Adventurous, brazen fingers strolling on wide, voluptuous stalks Towering sunflowers with wide, voluptuous stalks Pristine dandelions enticing pairs of hands Pristine dandelions enticing my pair of hands And I give in, and I willingly give in Summer petals weaken the gullible heart The summer petals abandon the gullible heart One, two, three, two, five, seven Rhythmless feet now bare Adventurous, brazen fingers now dormant One, two, four, six, eight, ten Rhythmless feet clad in cheap shoes Curious fingers strolling on wide, voluptuous stalks Towering white daisies with wide, voluptuous stalks Pristine dandelions spring once more Pristine dandelions enticing my pair of hands And I give in, yet again I give in Winter petals capture the derelict heart The winter petals emulate mirrors after caressing the ramshackle heart One, two, four, six, eight, ten Rhythmless feet once again bare, now calloused Curious fingers now cautious One, two, two, two, two, two Rhythmless feet hesitating to be covered Vacillating fingers mapping the wide, voluptuous stalks Pristine dandelions surface once more Pristine dandelions displaying subtle coquetry And I stall, for heaven's sake, I stall Fall petals demonstrate its desire to the heart The fall petals fall but the bitter heart hangs on a silk thread One, two, two, two, two, two Rhythmless feet discovers a rhythm A rhythm so unpleasant, so abhorrent Vacillating fingers now curl Curl into the palm in resistance

0

May 24, 2016

May 24, 2016 at 11:39 AM UTC

Repetitions

One, two, three, two, five, seven Rhythmless feet clad in branded shoes Adventurous, brazen fingers strolling on wide, voluptuous stalks Towering sunflowers with wide, voluptuous stalks Pristine dandelions enticing pairs of hands Pristine dandelions enticing my pair of hands And I give in, and I willingly give in Summer petals weaken the gullible heart The summer petals abandon the gullible heart One, two, three, two, five, seven Rhythmless feet now bare Adventurous, brazen fingers now dormant One, two, four, six, eight, ten Rhythmless feet clad in cheap shoes Curious fingers strolling on wide, voluptuous stalks Towering white daisies with wide, voluptuous stalks Pristine dandelions spring once more Pristine dandelions enticing my pair of hands And I give in, yet again I give in Winter petals capture the derelict heart The winter petals emulate mirrors after caressing the ramshackle heart One, two, four, six, eight, ten Rhythmless feet once again bare, now calloused Curious fingers now cautious One, two, two, two, two, two Rhythmless feet hesitating to be covered Vacillating fingers mapping the wide, voluptuous stalks Pristine dandelions surface once more Pristine dandelions displaying subtle coquetry And I stall, for heaven's sake, I stall Fall petals demonstrate its desire to the heart The fall petals fall but the bitter heart hangs on a silk thread One, two, two, two, two, two Rhythmless feet discovers a rhythm A rhythm so unpleasant, so abhorrent Vacillating fingers now curl Curl into the palm in resistance

37

Listen. I'm not silent. In fact, I'm immensely talkative. I have a loud mind that produces battalions of statements daily. I am talkative. Words egress from my lips like rivers flowing to vast seas. I speak of my aspirations, dreams, and visions for the future. I brag about my strengths and feats that I have achieved. I impart my knowledge and discoveries to the curious. I am not silent. I share my experiences and learnings to elicit self-reflection. I exclaim my inspirations and interests with much enthusiasm. I was never silent. I admit my weaknesses, insecurities, and fears with difficulties. I enumerate my quirks and oddities despite hesitating. I disclose my secrets and sins that marred me. Why do you call me silent? I elaborate my thoughts and my whims on the spot. I sing my favorite rhymes, lullabies, and songs that are more than just mellifluous melodies. How can you call me silent? I utter peculiar lines and cryptic metaphors in varying tones. I narrate stories of friendships, love, romance, and passion in diverse forms. I spit verses of hatred, greed, atrocity, and apathy with vehemence. I scream what's taboo, ****** unconventional, and abhorrent unabashedly. There is absolutely no space in my mouth for silence. I am not silent and my lips are not closed. Your eyes are just covered, and you do not know how and when to listen.

0

Apr 19, 2016

Apr 19, 2016 at 2:16 PM UTC

Silence

Listen. I'm not silent. In fact, I'm immensely talkative. I have a loud mind that produces battalions of statements daily. I am talkative. Words egress from my lips like rivers flowing to vast seas. I speak of my aspirations, dreams, and visions for the future. I brag about my strengths and feats that I have achieved. I impart my knowledge and discoveries to the curious. I am not silent. I share my experiences and learnings to elicit self-reflection. I exclaim my inspirations and interests with much enthusiasm. I was never silent. I admit my weaknesses, insecurities, and fears with difficulties. I enumerate my quirks and oddities despite hesitating. I disclose my secrets and sins that marred me. Why do you call me silent? I elaborate my thoughts and my whims on the spot. I sing my favorite rhymes, lullabies, and songs that are more than just mellifluous melodies. How can you call me silent? I utter peculiar lines and cryptic metaphors in varying tones. I narrate stories of friendships, love, romance, and passion in diverse forms. I spit verses of hatred, greed, atrocity, and apathy with vehemence. I scream what's taboo, ****** unconventional, and abhorrent unabashedly. There is absolutely no space in my mouth for silence. I am not silent and my lips are not closed. Your eyes are just covered, and you do not know how and when to listen.

26