"abates" poems
Can you feel it
Shh, allow the galaxy to pamper your body, blanket the essence of your mind, bit-by-bit
Travel on a higher awareness to understand the galaxy’s gentle gift
Close your eyes and allow your mind to softly drift
Soft Moonlight Dust
Illuminating the night skies, given warmth of its inner trust
Centered in the sky, a star abates for its enlighten ******
Kindred minds to enrapture, as souls physically adjust
So gentle, as a touch to the skin
An inner space to conquer, there an exploring craving begins
Awareness of self stirring into the constellation
Bodies attuned beyond the stretch of imagination
Savoring on the flavor of the alignment sweeten taste
Desires igniting an inferno, the heat of its flames refusing to wait
Overheated friction surrendering without debates
Runaway yearning weakening in the presence of fate
The ecstasy of the moonlight’s dust felt, abiding to the crack of dawn
Emotions of the elixir slowly withdrawn
A Cheshire moonrise
Always a sacred communion given in surprise
Masked feelings hidden behind the stars in our eyes
Sprinkles of pixie dust as the moon becomes full
Paired upon, as lace meets wool
Interwoven and tenderly spun on a galactic spool
Stars In Exile
Twinkling for eyes to glimpse beyond the earth’s smile
Canopus to Antares, oh how you make me shine
Closing my eyes, coveting your point as I’m making you mine
Settled and glittering as small diamonds binding in the sky
A wondrous elopement to experience in the blink of an eye
Soft whispers to the ones that shoot right before they fall
Such a beautiful and breathlessly cadence to wish under them all
The Gift Of The Sun’s Stroke
Umm, shooting stars kept me awoke
Relentless bodies bathing under the moon
Caresses, touches, entwined souls echoing the note of its weakening tunes
Sweeter and sweeter, deeper and deeper
Bodies fueled, hot as a heater, bodies climbing steeper and steeper
Heat consumes the interior of the temple
Sweat of life, as movements come together and then disassemble
Elated, sedated, dipping in a cool blue lagoon
Kisses under the sun on a beautiful afternoon
Temperatures rising not a moment too soon
June slamming into summer’s heat
A merriment of a sun stroke basking in the glorious feast
The galaxy and its spicy passion
A gift to the world to enjoy in any unbridled fashion
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 1:17 PM UTC
‘I am…’ 'Or am I’? Who can say?
‘A posteriori’ leads the way
For the extra and the ordinary
Axiomatic sway,
In the gravity of corollary,
‘A priori’ interplay
Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation,
As the innocence of dissonance delay.
Practicing semantic contemplation,
In willfully prevenient interpolation,
Civilly disobedient in expediently seeming disarray,
Forecasts in vague extrapolation
Contrasts the millennial contagion
Already underway,
Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves,
To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves,
A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves,
Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves,
Inflating linguistics in acrobatic raves,
A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves.
The probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates,
An apperceived inquirer of qualitative states,
Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates.
Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates,
Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates,
Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates.
An escaped prisoner from depressive disillusion,
Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion,
The personable recluse fighting an illusion
Breaking down the nuances of every institution.
Calculating consequence as time goes to infinity
Revolutionary commonsense of principal utility,
An opinionated adversary,
to the realist without evidence,
Theorizing in futility,
Stipulating every sense leading to the virility of the pretense that dominates community.
Divergently converging all the efforts we’ve personified,
Inadvertently submerging old traditions that unethically were codified,
Hastening the urgency for purging that which cannot be modified through the merging of the certainty that will no longer coincide,
Stationing the levies to finally stem the tide,
Of periodic enmities disguised to be necessities so blatantly deified.
Observing moral sentiments, perched upon eternity,
As consequential regiments are expounded universally,
To unstratify the residents indiscriminately
And identify quantum elements spiritualistically,
Changing collective behavior individually,
Socializing constructs in joint ventured logo therapy.
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 8:07 AM UTC
I watch the prom Dance,
In an awkward stance,
my friends walk in with dates,
and the excitement Abates.
Alone in a corner,
I mope like a mourner,
With no partner to dance with,
No gentleman to prance with.
Amidst the mirth and cheers,
My eyes fill up with tears.
I rush out into the open air,
And by Jove! I see Voltaire!
With his satirical charms,
He draws me in his arms.
As I sway to the beats,
I'm waltzing with Keats.
Causing my funny bone to arouse,
Enters P.G. Wodehouse!
Using nonchalant wittiness,
He acknowledges my prettiness.
And then walks in Shakespeare,
Who wipes away my tear,
And my senses curdle like curds,
As he showers me with words.
While I repress the excited child,
I'm swaying with Oscar Wilde.
I'm rendered helplessly mute,
With his phrases so astute.
With a proposal so verse-y,
I'm serenaded by Shelly B. Percy.
And before this fantasy can spoil,
I fox trot with Conan Doyle.
And thus literally seduced,
into putty I'm reduced.
I am platonic-ally smitten,
By the genius of what they've written.
The dating circus can’t make me cry,
because a host of paramours have I.
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 3:20 AM UTC
*Let me be captured by the night.
Engrossed in the conversation
between the stars.
Syncopated twinkling like...
thousands of fireflies
trapped within sealed jars.
Let me be enslaved by the moon.
As I drink her glow in
greedy insatiable gulps.
Crestfallen...
Her beam with an agenda...
As the landscape she sculpts.
Let me be ensnared by my solitude.
But I hear crickets...
Chirping and chipping away at my
bastion of dreamstate.
Persistent calls
I try to shun
that never abates.
Let me be trapped in my thoughts.
So I could harness...
And immortalise them in
indelible careless scribbles.
Erecting and...
Rebuilding them from the
rubble of conflicting squabbles.
**Let me be overwhelmed
by the mess of my being...**
Let me wallow
Then emerge strong from this
decrepit state of mind.
Let me breathe heavy from my
punctured lungs.
So I could heal in time before
true solace
in this dark,
I would find.*
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 12:05 PM UTC
You Reap What You Sow
A sentiment that never quite stuck.
I did what I would-
Consequences were a punishment
for villains more obvious
than the sweet girl I played.
But the real world is not so biased,
peeling away the masks I wore
You Lay in the Bed You Make
But my pillow is filled with thorns,
and my blanket is thread-bare.
The mattress is layered with spiders' webs
and the chill never abates.
I long for the One to warm my soul...
But it's been years since another has lain so close
For I sow seeds of deceit
and when they bloom
the fruit is bittersweet
and the stems cannot bear weight.
Jun 30, 2013
Jun 30, 2013 at 1:12 AM UTC
I am on a journey
and where it leads, I do not know
the bends and twists within my soul
leave my words and deeds feeling hollow
Am I the man I reflect
or a monster laying in wait
conflicting reports have come
and the doubt never abates
I try so hard to
be the best I know how to be
childish remnants stripped away
I'm left to navigate these canals of misery
Am I victim or villain
a product of an earlier fate
or is that just an excuse to unleash the demons
and become the thing I truly hate
this battle never ends....
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 4:58 PM UTC
The opposite of love, is indifference.
Not anger, aversion, or hate.
Accompanied by avoidant-detachment,
And a silence that never abates.
It can disguise itself in diffidence;
Depressed by misery, for score.
Sheltering who practice its persuasion,
But leaving its victim longing for more.
It looks like a promise that’s broken,
It sounds like the melody of a lie.
It tastes like a cocktail & bitters;
It feels like a passion that died.
You can’t see the damage from the outside;
The wounds that scar from within.
Until they manifest as an addiction,
Or any overt kind of sin.
Love faces the toughest of battles;
Love outshines even the sun.
Indifference regards nothing higher;
And indifference will perpetually run.
Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 10:34 PM UTC
Were you to ask it
query it
seek it
the answer to my heart
is there shade on the eve of love
indeed, there is
a shade like mountain's umbra
a gloom cast from the deep
a shadow that cloisters
clutches
croons in one's ear
sorrow of the like one wishes experience only once
if at all
There is a time to be glad,
but not on this eve...
Today, we experience love's eclipse
a respite from charm and wonder
a delay of inevitable passion
a somber
slow
seething
slump
into a chasm of finite eternity
where seconds last years
and moments are lifetimes
but not cherished times
not a calm before the storm
it is despair before victory
the long sigh of anticipation
as one is disemboweled
waiting for death's promise
a metaphorical death of
all our hopes and dreams
as the queen of night
suffocates our sun on high
we dream a waking nightmare
but know
it only lasts the night
And suddenly
like the snapping of a finger
it appears
not sound
but light
a pinprick
and
though small
it envelopes one's whole mind
a shard of light
like a rope of hope
penetrating your soul
you know it
the eclipse draws to an end
A sliver of its radiant face
the sun peeks round the corner of doom
smiling wanly at first
but as the eclipse abates
you know the warmth
the curling of fingers around fingers
eyes connected
you see them
as if having waited centuries to see them, despite it being first sight
embracing, you are taken adrift
into a flight so free that wings are an inconvenience
arm in arm with your lover
you cascade out into reality
up and down and down and up
the eclipse is no more
love is free
a breeze so firm and sweet that
your lungs feel brand new
your chest swells with pride
you're found
and you have found
together,
you and your lover,
ascend heaven's heights
and dream of eclipses no more
Bound in freedom
free in mind and soul
hearts as one
under the sun
despair
no longer takes its toll...
Sep 23, 2022
Sep 23, 2022 at 7:32 PM UTC
Butterflies do stammer
on first dates.
Thinking of what,
What to say.
My head rambles.
My breath abates.
My voice scrambles.
My face straight.
I throw smiles of my youth
Tell stories wide and bright
My subtle lies of clean truth
With utter hopes to placate
My eyes dart, my breath aghast
This moment to be
of our future's past
This moment to be
of our first date.
We meet
We greet
We hide our anxiety
Wading through tension
Behind smiles and drinks
We tread lightly
With humorous winks
Passing off stories of our past
Sitting composed at full attention
I listen intently
But you catch me stare
Hmmm, with each soft word
We calm the air.
Anticipating discovery
I peek into you.
Opening myself
To reveal what's new.
You smile freely
Clenching fingers tight
Butterflies take flight.
Hoping what might
You peek into me
Saying no to what could be.
My head disappears.
My eyes dream.
My shiny veneer
Begins to hear.
A flutter begins flight
As I seek your light.
My chest slowly warms
To glows of moonbeams.
My heart slowly endears
As I faintly hear
My butterfly's subtle screams.
We attract hints of passion
By sharing what's true.
For all this fragile effort
I hope for date number two.
Aug 18, 2012
Aug 18, 2012 at 1:00 AM UTC
things
will
get
better
when
my arthritis abates
when
I'm better looking
when
I'm smarter
when
I'm taller with better bones
when
my hair grows back
nice and wavy
when
I lose thirty pounds of fat
when
I'm filthy rich
when
my eyes are bluer
when
i have a PhD
without guile
and i don't have any
ticks ticks ticks
and no longer
still hate my dead father
who never let me forget that
the hand that feeds me
is the boot that kicks me
things
will
get
better
when
I'm celebrated for my myriad talents
when
my singing brings the house down
when
I'm forty years younger
and know everything I know now
when
I'm a world class boxer and poet
and can dance
the pachanga
with the stars
and exhibit my edgy brilliant sculpture
and elegant paintings
at the museum of modern art
and live in a big Malibu beach house
a big chested hero
with a nice suntan
and a Bugatti Chiron
in the driveway
tough guy tattoos
and four hundred dollar sunglasses
things
will
get
better
when
all men admire me
and
all women adore me
and want to take me home
for ***** kiss cocktails
leg shows
and sing giggling
throwing fluttering kisses
at me
during their fluffy bubble baths
while I photograph them
with my perfect
digital
memory
and
things
will
get
better
when
I can win marathons
running backward
while smoking a cigar
never tiring
and party like hell boy
inhaling drugs and *****
without the slightest ill effects
when
I can beat gravity
and fly at will
when
my health is perfect
and my teeth brush themselves
and my breath smells like bay ***
when
I'm never too hot or cold
but always cool
when
I can breathe underwater and kiss fishes
and ride neptunium whales
and giant squids
and fly through deep space
without a rocket ship
hows it hangin xeno
when
I cant help
but love everybody all the time
and all animals are happy
and have plenty to eat
that's not each other
and I play with lions
who kiss to lick me
and everywhere I go
death war and disease
are vanquished
and everybody is in ecstasy
when life is chocolate kisses
when
multiculturalism means
that everybody is falling in love with everybody
and kisses never cease
when trees are made of lollypops
and no one ever gets diabetes
and flowers dance to Latin rhythms
and everybody stops arguing about god
while in a state of immortal joy
that's
when
things
will
get
better!
Feb 3, 2017
Feb 3, 2017 at 4:23 PM UTC
It is a furiously humbling experience
to be helpless before the gale
and exposed without cover,
knowing that cotton takes roughly a millennia to fully dry.
Even though I know that skin is waterproof,
in the moment it is hard to envision a future
where water is not dripping salt and sweat
into my mouth,
even if I know that just such a future
lies just minutes over the horizon
beyond the rain haze that blurs the twinkling city lights.
My shirt clings to me ever tighter as the storm waxes wroth;
the heavy fibers seem to cower from the far-off flashes of lightning,
the thunder to which we never hear.
Freshwater tears course unbidden down my face
in forks and rivulets, washing away the sand and grit and anger
as I trudge through the blowing sheets of broken glass.
And then, the inconceivable future dawns,
and as quickly as it had spawned,
the downpour abates,
leaving behind a sodden figure plodding slowly
through the newly-dappled sand.
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 8:59 PM UTC
He awakes from deep slumber
to find his beloved missing by his side,
again.
Casting off the shroud of dark, dense clouds
He dons the black cloak of night and begins his frenzied search
for Her - the perpetually elusive one :
He scours the skies, cuts through frosty winds,
roves through the infinity of stars desperately seeking Her,
looks down :
at the lonesome road abandoned by commuters
that treaded upon her all day long
at a dingy alleyway where a girl solicits her new owner
for the night - to be used, abused, misused
at the young woman storming her way back home
distraught from a break-up with her Casanova of a lover -
- all this, while She trails behind him
in his quest for love, silently accompanying him
as he drifts over unknown lands,
hoping his agony abates, wanting to tell him
she is there, he could see her.
She, who lends meaning to his being,
his silvery, mesmerising
Moonlight.
Feb 9, 2013
Feb 9, 2013 at 5:47 PM UTC
I’m trying to recall a poem or a prayer that I recited
while walking through the woods of my hometown.
It occurs to me that I’ll never get it back.
I suppose such things are meant to be transient,
spoken out loud and left to drift,
But I am determined to capture some of it.
So. Here in the woods
Branches droop heavy and black with berries.
I pluck to gather them and make of my hands
two cups from which saltwater spills.
I see a vision of the old and the new,
the here to come and the hereafter,
overlaid on the thick pine stumps.
That which has passed is not yet gone.
Like trees, we grow on the rotten bones of giants.
There is no king of the once and future,
Nay, nor queen. Only the rough tumult
of life that continues, and abates, and continues.
Here on the holly branch the spines sharpen.
The red berries have not ripened from black.
On the thorns I see blackberries still **** and red,
not yet sweet with concentrated sunshine.
I see the skulls of snag trees, the knothole eye sockets
where woodpeckers find their mealy dinners
and feast on the beetles and worms –
which shall in their turn one day feast on me.
So it goes, as it should be, as it will.
My vision shows oak giants long passed,
toppled and timbered an age before my time.
A thousand years hence they shall rise again.
Fear not; the axes of men wreak havoc,
but may only interrupt the flow, not halt it.
Again I stoop to pluck the fruit
And form two cups of my hands
From which juice flows like water.
The ocean licks the sweat from my skin
And I see a vision of the old woods,
the old ways, the elder magick
That will grow from seed tomorrow.
Hew my limbs in history, bury them in timber.
Let the barrow-mounds be a nursery
Where the thornbush harvest grows.
Sep 2, 2022
Sep 2, 2022 at 9:41 PM UTC
so the day is going well
which is never a good sign
time ticking past somnambulantly
inducing a soporific state
I find hard to shake
with rocking carriages
as I traverse to my travail
through millennia of archaeology
passing long extinct dinosaurs
turning magically to crude oil
Roman armies with Gladius drawn
ready for action two thousand
years on, still trying to conquer
the unconquerable realm
then an eco-warrior
of shabby description
yells my carbon footprint
is an abominable ********
it’s an electric train I holler
how much greener can I be fella
the Romans are looking friendlier
by the minute they only wanted
my freedom not justification of existence
the soporific state abates
the modern world is against me
now I’m running late
Mar 23, 2022
Mar 23, 2022 at 7:14 PM UTC
An illness, it plagues me
It causes great misery
My screams go unheard
I hope Death comes to claim me
*You're such a good friend
I know you will help me
Come to my house,
And help set me free*
The Demon came one night
And to me, it spoke;
"Come make a pact with me,
And your pain I'll turn to smoke"
*You're such a good friend
I know you will help me
Come to my house,
And help set me free*
You walked into my house
So generous and kind
Of how innocent you were,
So innocently blind
*You're such a good friend
I know you will help me
Come to my house,
And help set me free*
The transformation completes
Oh how good it feels
To be free of pain and suffering
The bell of liberty peals
*You're such a good friend
I know you will help me
Come to my house,
And help set me free*
A day is not long,
I must start acting
If I want to stay,
You must be dying.
*You're such a good friend
I know you will help me
Come to my house,
And help set me free*
Alas, you have struggled,
Valiantly played.
But you cannot win me,
The pact gives me aid.
*You're such a good friend
I know you will help me
Come to my house,
And help set me free*
Give it back?
This body, I will keep
They say "finders keepers"
Leaving the losers to weep.
*You're such a good friend
I know you will help me
Come to my house,
And help set me free*
For a day, I said.
For a day, you'll stay.
But not if you die,
Not if you, I slay.
*You're such a good friend
I know you will help me
Come to my house,
And help set me free*
This is the final leg,
Your power abates.
For all the love I've missed,
Ahead, it awaits.
*You're such a good friend
I know you will help me
Come to my house,
And help set me free*
Goodbye, my dear friend
You've helped me a bunch
Your body stays with me
And with mine you leave
*You're such a good friend
I know you will help me
Come to my house,
And help set me free*
The Demon behind
He waved his hand
Laughed, and left
When the camera panned.
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 4:34 AM UTC
¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯
"O my dearest,
darling, bijou,
*born the silver
worker's daughter*,
"*how so fortunate
mine eyes
to witness thine
palatial wonder*!
"Mine pleasure t'*would
to take hold and
to pick the fruits
among your vine*—
"*the shyest heart
of rose hips what
has pewter cruxes
bold t'shine*!
"*And as eyes and
I pay credit
to a distent,
nearing nimbus*..
"These gem'*nate
tongues b'twine as
oaken staves—
the Brav'ra Lingus*!"
(..she responds,)
*"Mine auburn falls
for thee*, my dove,
but thy fervence, *once
to mine*, abates?"**
"Quite, my dear..
"tho, *ginger trapped
in tantric bond
what's sweetness*, *rare
n'a boon*, belates!"
*"..well*, *then
please use a ******
she said*.
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 12:46 PM UTC
The lion's breath abates at last.
Two pieces silver hold it fast.
Though a quick man saves it for me,
Only a rich man may set it free.
Darkened Tower beyond lion's teeth,
Rattles a sword in filthy sheath.
A rhyming, blind man speaks the truth.
Shame he cannot see the youth,
Nimble quick to steal his purse,
Quick with shame, sets lions forth.
Jul 11, 2010
Jul 11, 2010 at 9:51 AM UTC
I may not own the streets
or ride them in leather seats,
but if you can hear the beat
then that I speak isn’t weak.
And when I use my unique technique
you will feel weak and antique.
I imagine, create, and contrast,
while you remain in the shame of the past.
And no fame or acclaim will frame
your lame claims of a big game.
So listen up;
let my words glisten
and strut
and enlighten your mind
to the blind kind of refined chap
whose strife in life is crap
in a shiny wrap.
And when you understand
that this land
is not about high-end brands
or powerful hands,
I will demand your attention
to begin an ascension
into another dimension
where we will find a divine comprehension
of our world.
In this new state,
where happiness is part of fate,
we will no longer ache
from the weight of our hate.
We will not longer become irate
when the worth of a great estate abates
and no longer fail to appreciate
dates with soul mates
and time with your friends,
while the trends will amend virtue
and not pretend and defend
vices that can only hurt you.
So please open your eyes
and let your mind fly into the skies
so that my goodbye
might manage to give flight
to what is right
and make all our dry lives
a bit more bright.
Because all I really want
is to see every gent, elder and debutante
from the Nile to Vermont
to flaunt a smile that does not beguile,
but genuinely shows how versatile
and worthwhile life can be
when we defile the hostile
and see that a college degree
does not advocate the ease of greed
and even those without
their abc’s and phd’s
still need to be part of the key
to unlock a world above thee.
We must choose to rise together,
for one missing feather will sever the wings of mankind
and leave us blind;
Always and forever.
Mar 7, 2010
Mar 7, 2010 at 7:13 PM UTC
my lips quake as i bow to you
my heart shakes and trembles like a leaf
nature's temples wait and remind us of simplicity
are our minds as tranquil as a lake
do they reside in peaceful quiet
can we sense the edges of the wild
lines are changed and bodies rearranged daily
have you come into your power lately
i swallowed my pride but not my feelings
i give thanks for this healing
as my fingers lick your spine
i am blinded by your fury
we combine memory and poetry
lights are dancing
hunger abates and we must
face our fears with fealty
this light is bright
this life is mindless
kind of like a spiral
these burning brains
drain our storehouses
while we waste away our resources
like porous hourglasses
drip time like honey
i am a sign waving in the wind
singing my rhythms
from deep within
the water and the earth
are permanently hurting
shrouds of candid letters
leftovers that will forever
remain lonely
as isotopes of poetry
are the ions of everything
Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 3:00 PM UTC
Crick crack click clap snip snap on the concrete
The city is on the move and to stand would be
The slapstick comedy of stopping a treadmill.
Acceleration animation gravitation from the rotation
Apathetic friction that is devil-may-care like your heart
Dragged down on the gym floor and the sweaty men laugh.
Tick tock nonstop the clock hops and bops away the time
Of the day and eternity seems like a fairy tale
Because this era is neverneverland faith, we are young.
And getting younger, we plan to die naked as we came,
Lounging in retirement, the summer that knows no end.
But sighing the dying are crying relying upon our move
And we move past, this blur of momentum that the city has become,
Because stillness is for the hippies and the natives and we are neither.
Capitalistic colonial conquering captains of industry we charge
Credit or debit because it isn't ours anyways and the bank is moving.
Down the street in the heat can't beat the beat of the sweet treat
That the homeless remember the memory of the taste of mercy.
Like dogs in heat they pant and beg and we shake them off our pantleg
Because it is designer and the label buys manhood cheap and sells it high.
We split hit and quit and never commit because we spit words like blessing
Out when we wash our mouths out every night and every morning
Because it is the only way to get the taste out of your mouth when you wake up.
As if the jacket I wear can't clothe a man from the cold or sell for more
And my closet is lined with the clothes I don't remember to forget about wearing.
It is not hate that congregates or abates the rate the weight is pulling me down,
But fear of the immensity of impossibility colliding with reality inevitably,
Because one man's sacrifice will suffice to pay the price of my vice.
Yessir hearts are racing toward the first heart, we are collaborating.
That the dying need not remain the dead but know life to the fullest.
The poor and the sore need not abhor or war with the rush of the city.
Because saints and saviors are not just bedtime stories as long as my life
Has the power, no the will, no just the faith, all it needs is faith.
The sick have been tricked that their wick runs quick
Like crick crack click clack snip snap on the concrete
These hearts are moving this city on a hill.
Mar 24, 2011
Mar 24, 2011 at 6:28 PM UTC
On dying fragile stem
Fading beauty
Flawed gem
Loves abates slowly
From heart and mind
Emotions become faint and distant
Passing through shadows of time
Delicate petals drop
One by one
Falling silent without sound
Sweet scent disappearing
Not a trace
Until all that was once living
Lies dead rotting on the ground
This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Tammy M. Darby Dec. 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 11:42 PM UTC
A place where tears turn to gold,
days are aging but never grow old
Always a bright morning awaits
No lonely nights - my fear abates
Let pixie dust fly you on high
Paint all that glitters in blue sky
Let it sparkle like a starry night
Drying your tears by and by
Wash away your pain in streams
go with the flow indulge your dreams
No need to hide the way you feel
Here in Wonderland, everything's surreal.
Mar 17, 2019
Mar 17, 2019 at 7:39 AM UTC
Autumn racing red and gold
behind half-open eyes of icy blue.
27th Fall. Step into cold
and race through
alleyways I've known.
A crunching stride, solitary breaths.
Staccato notes
banged out on sidewalks' grey scales...
...I'm every inch
of this softened ground,
these shoe treads, hieroglyphics...
...My town appends
its runic fate
onto
my story's granite page.
Crisping air, engulf my lungs.
Ensconce my face in drowsy weather.
Sleepy eyelids, sliding down
to Main & Dow Street. Watch me hover
along the margins.
These last 4 months of quiet aching
engraved in me come roaring out now.
Autumn streets stay silent.
And Kendrick Park
has whispered low
in bashful rustling;
I climb the boardwalk,
my thoughts are gilded,
responding slowly.
The breeze abates,
it's halfway warm.
Bellevue & Lewis
I am a statue;
smooth, cold marble,
still in November.
And, soon, the Summer comes with angry glares.
And, soon, this stony face will disappear.
These months will always linger in me.
Does my ghost haunt this place already?
I'll return here every Autumn when
October signs off on the Summer's death.
And I'll be tracing all your features with
forgotten footsteps' ancient hieroglyphs...
Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 12:54 PM UTC
I always wanted to
Marry, merry Mary.
But knew not how to propose.
And so I went to fetch her flowers
Rows of roses rose
before me, presenting many choices but producing a tear.
My sorrow was broken by a
Sheer, cheer, chear,
my friends wishing my love to ignite
Be not discouraged, your love is a
lite, light. Alighted
by the tender flame your heart abates.
And Mary loves you, despite her long
way and weighty wait
She knows you're worth it and why
So put on your best suit and
tie that Thai tie
of azure that matches your eyes
That's Mary's favorite, said
I, aye, eye
And she's sure to say yes, yes, yes
to such a fool in love
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 1:00 AM UTC