#silk
The Sovereign spins string on its fingertips
Creating a tapestry of one’s existence
Forced and bound tightly with silk
Silk braided into barbered wires
Choking and constricting to the very core
Thread searing and branding the body
Trapped in a web of deceit
Puppeteering while I try to lead
Captivated by crystalline chains
Chains which bind me to the eternal night
I stare at the darkness
The darkness stares back
Writhing in these woven webs
Struggling and suffocating
In harmonious cacophony
Desperately clawing towards freedom
The crystalline chains crack
Braided silk unravels into strands
Woven webs wax and wane
Nature’s hold withers away
Released from the cocoon of futility
Threads of fate snapped and spindled
Forced tapestry destroyed and left undone
Replaced by a blank piece of cloth
Sep 2, 2025
Sep 2, 2025 at 3:19 PM UTC
{ “He plunged to the centre, and found it vast.” - Conrad Aiken }
STEEL AND SILK
My love like steel and silk
cuts through you
splutters your blood
watermelon juice down a throat
Wipes it with yellow silken ribbon
for you to **** afresh
that you may find your
Godly seed within
My love like dragonflies and bees
silently landing on stamen or pistils
alchemising nectar into patterned
dust upon transparent wings
Earth rewards my love with morning glory
steel severs sunflower stems
silkworms crawl into a wet rose centre
pollen stolen in sparkling dew
My steely silken love refreshed
from your flowered stickiness
©GhairoDaniels2017
Aug 6, 2025
Aug 6, 2025 at 4:05 AM UTC
I've been finding myself more
in the arms of uncertainty and nostalgia lately.
Its warmth cascades down my back
like hair made of gold and silk,
draping its familiarity over me
in the form of weary exhaustion.
And yet, when I get too close,
it holds me painfully tighter;
or pushes me away.
Forcing me to feel the dreary shiver
of winter all over again.
Perhaps this affinity surmised
was nothing more
than a suffocating disguise;
its hands holding mine
as if they were akin
to the bequeathed stars above.
I intend to abandon its presence,
as it did to mine;
but then I find it knocking
on my door once more.
And what else shall I do,
than let it in?
May 10, 2025
May 10, 2025 at 8:49 AM UTC
He said:
Have you noticed how the sun commands the sky
bold, blazing, untouchable?
She smiled:
And how the moon listens
soft, steady, and never once needing to burn?
He said:
Fire must be a man - restless, hungry, loud.
She replied:
Then water is surely a woman
quiet, patient, but strong enough to carve canyons.
He teased:
Isn’t logic masculine?
She countered:
Only if emotion is feminine
and both are useless without the other.
He smirked:
Strength is a man’s trait.
She tilted her head:
Yet childbirth is not for the weak.
He whispered:
Desire… now that must be a woman.
She leaned in:
And control? That, my dear, is a man’s fantasy.
He said:
Betrayal wears a woman’s perfume.
She said:
And vengeance wears a man’s cologne.
He said:
War is written in a man’s script.
She replied:
But peace is cradled in a woman’s hands.
He paused, then confessed:
The world may have been built by men…
She completed him:
But it is held together by women.
They sat in silence,
neither victorious,
both understood.
Because every question seeks to conquer -
and every answer longs to heal.
May 1, 2025
May 1, 2025 at 9:37 AM UTC
It was silk that was choked on,
It was wind which was blowing.
For the fly never is caught
Until the act of consumption!
Yet, if by consumption,
Is the spider itself conditioned?
What few arachnids shall spin no web,
Like few snakes whom have no venom.
Defanged or deglanded,
I suppose only fools make distinction
Between either of them.
Yet, if by the action,
Is the hand itself also conditioned?
Apr 17, 2025
Apr 17, 2025 at 10:31 AM UTC
beneath the pale stars
your strong arms holding me tight
the clock strikes midnight
carriage returns to pumpkin
dress of silk and gold to rags
Feb 12, 2024
Feb 12, 2024 at 11:16 AM UTC
The finest of Spirits, that touched My Lips.
Was never that intoxicating.
Neither did their sweetness Eclipse,
the Magic your Kisses kept Creating.
No Melody I heard, was played that Fine.
To be Music to both My Ears.
Nor have Notes had those sadful Words.
The Way your Voice, bring out My Tears.
The finest Silk that touched My Skin,
was never that Tender, Smooth or Light.
They never wrapped Me with Finesse.
As your Arms do for Me every Night.
The World offered Me Diamonds and Gold
and Gifts as Pure as the Morning Dew.
But none of them caught My Eyes,
as My Eyes were set on U.
Jul 14, 2023
Jul 14, 2023 at 9:52 AM UTC
𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺-
𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘬.
𝘠𝘦𝘵, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘴𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴.
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘧𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘰𝘵𝘺𝘱𝘦𝘴 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥:
𝘚𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥, 𝘴𝘶𝘣𝘫𝘶𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥.
𝘖𝘳-
𝘜𝘨𝘭𝘺, 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘺.
𝘉𝘶𝘵-
𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳:
𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦.
𝘍𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘰𝘮 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘸𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳.
𝘍𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘩𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘷𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴.
𝘉𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘺 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵.
𝘉𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘵.
𝙎𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙛𝙪𝙡 𝙘𝙡𝙤𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙙 𝙨𝙞𝙡𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚.
𝙎𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 '𝙥𝙝𝙚𝙣𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙬𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙣'.
Nov 16, 2021
Nov 16, 2021 at 1:54 PM UTC
Was it longing in is sad, blue eyes, or was it lust?
Maybe it was a beautiful combination of the two.
She always left him wanting more.
So he gave up the sunlight for her.
He promised to spend the rest of his days in darkness, between silk sheets and, hushed tones.
He never asked anything of her.
Seeing her body covered in nothing but moonlight was more than
his soul could ever dream of.
Feb 24, 2021
Feb 24, 2021 at 12:45 AM UTC
Between silken sheets we let all of the golden clocks fall over the edge of our world.
There, we kissed and kissed until we could measure time only by the rise and fall of our broken breaths and knew no other taste
than the light in each others bones.
Feb 23, 2021
Feb 23, 2021 at 11:12 PM UTC
her voice
bent me
backwards
over the
bedsheets
every
syllable
spinning silk
into sea
as she drew
the breath
from my ears
and a symphony
from my lips
she turned my
twin bed
into titanic
along with me
and as I was
drowning
she was speaking
poetry
Feb 10, 2021
Feb 10, 2021 at 12:49 PM UTC
white jasmine petals
like the finest silk so pure
nature's sweet perfume
Aug 9, 2020
Aug 9, 2020 at 2:59 PM UTC
Wrap me in silk
and send me home
I am nothing but a sinner
who knows
how to drown.
May 22, 2020
May 22, 2020 at 8:13 PM UTC
radiating
street lamps
ionized the
indigo blue
haze charging
the night air
sparking the
city’s eclectic
currents coursing
through the
abandoned raceways
and empty streets
energizing the
phantoms of
the city’s
restive spirits
the ghosts of past
Great Falls Fests came
jitterbugging back
to life
transparent
veils lifting
and falling
with it, a voltaic
indigo blue
billowed out of the
abandoned stadium
pouring smoking
oboe moans
into the cavity
of the great gorge
“I was one of the last
to perform at
Hinchliffe Stadium”
Duke proclaimed
with his usual
distinguished air
“it was also one of my
last concerts”, he added
with a tinge of
sorrow in his voice
“the band was rockin
the Art Deco tiles,
splintering and shattering
into bits of earth toned graffiti
the last vestiges of
a bygone Jazz Age
dissolving into the
disco fizz of the
Seventies”
the indigo mood
clamoured off
the rocks absorbing
the sonorous waves
like a stand of
hallowed
sequoias
“I’m trying to
remember what
my last tune
was that night.
was it Caravan?
or a Prelude to
a Kiss? No no
too mellow
we always ended
on an upper
a real crowd pleaser,
I recall the boys swung
a medley before the grand finale
that medley included
Mood Indigo, Caravan,
Sophisticated Ladies,
Prelude to a Kiss.
We opened with Kinda Dukish
Rockin and Rhythm
we closed with
Satin Doll
Yes I’m quite sure
I waltzed them
off the floor
that night with
Satin Doll”
Duke ran his
fingers through
his processed hair.
He grabbed my shoulders
raised his baggy eyelids
And looked me straight
In the eye
“Yes, we followed
Tito Puente, he killed it
we upped our game
He was just starting out
But at this time Silk City
was going Caribe
Juan Tizol was
out of his mind that night,
I thought him and Babs
we're gunna jump ship
and join the Salsa Circus
Yeah El Rex and Celia Cruz
were that good
El Rex had the place
jumpin and jivin
it was a glimpse of the old days
livin in the here and now
just like the old days
I couldn't compete with that
so I waltzed them off
the floor with Satin Doll
a little cheek to cheek swoon
maybe some guys got lucky that night
and maybe some girls fell in love
Yeah Paterson was changing,
the ***** Leagues long gone
the last ****** Auto Races
crossed the final finish line weeks before
when the raceways in the stadium
replaced the raceways to the factories
we knew it was coming to an end
and with it all the good paying
jobs, whatta shame
just like me and the boys
watching El Rex
the Duke was dethroned by a King
just like Silk City
we had our day in the sun too
a Satin Doll Sun
Those were some good times,
sometimes”
Duke scratched
his head,
and he looked down into
the swirling noise
of the Great Falls
“on a night like this
the mood indigo
takes you into the
darkest hues of blues”
fragment from
Silk City PIT 6:
The Great Falls
Duke Ellington, Coleman Hawkins
Mood Indigo
Oakland
3/30/13
jbm
(FRAGMENT WORK IN PROGRESS)
Part 6 of extended poem Silk City PIT. PIT is an acronym for Point In Time. PIT is an annual census American cities conduct to count the homeless population. Hope and Labor is the city motto of Paterson NJ, nick named The Silk City.
Apr 30, 2020
Apr 30, 2020 at 5:14 PM UTC
the threads connecting us
to our loved ones
need to stay strong
like spider's silk
to survive this battle.
Mar 17, 2020
Mar 17, 2020 at 9:05 PM UTC
Strands of drifting silk
Glisten in the gentle breeze
Intangible wisps.
Feb 25, 2020
Feb 25, 2020 at 2:50 PM UTC
Dreams flow, come and go...
vague shadows, like silk slipping
swiftly through my grasp...
Feb 24, 2020
Feb 24, 2020 at 8:58 PM UTC
Silken spider thread
Cobweb soft
A whispered sigh
Hanging on the breeze
Silent song of hard worked creation
Strung like pearls to catch the morning
Intricate patterns
Each tiny artist works alone
Beauty on the wire
A gallery of infinite variety
Feb 17, 2020
Feb 17, 2020 at 7:22 AM UTC
When you learn
that we are nothing more
than silk wrapped bone
and mortality,
then peace will flood you
and the gates to existence
will open.
Feb 16, 2020
Feb 16, 2020 at 7:08 PM UTC