"abruptly" poems
The Wild Iris
by Louise Gluck
At the end of my suffering
there was a door.
Hear me out: that which you call death
I remember.
Overhead, noises, branches of the pine shifting.
Then nothing. The weak sun
flickered over the dry surface.
It is terrible to survive
as consciousness
buried in the dark earth.
Then it was over: that which you fear, being
a soul and unable
to speak, ending abruptly, the stiff earth
bending a little. And what I took to be
birds darting in low shrubs.
You who do not remember
passage from the other world
I tell you I could speak again: whatever
returns from oblivion returns
to find a voice:
from the center of my life came
a great fountain, deep blue
shadows on azure sea water.
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Paris;this April sunset completely utters
utters serenely silently a cathedral
before whose upward lean magnificent face
the streets turn young with rain,
spiral acres of bloated rose
coiled within cobalt miles of sky
yield to and heed
the mauve
of twilight(who slenderly descends,
daintily carrying in her eyes the dangerous first stars)
people move love hurry in a gently
arriving gloom and
see!(the new moon
fills abruptly with sudden silver
these torn pockets of lame and begging colour)while
there and here the lithe indolent **********
Night,argues
with certain houses
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like a static shock i feel you
running up my spine
tingling the hair at the nape of my neck
something harsh and unexpected
but unexpectedly pleasant
snapping me back into the present
eyes freshly opened and wide
like a still from a movie
quaking on the bed
feeling my limbs tighten against you
something soft and yielding
but not fully, pressing back
pushing my core deep into the down
we fight for a moment
tearing at each other with teeth
with claws
with fists, open, closed,
before the tension breaks
and calm floods over us with
no slight pause, sending us both
reeling into oblivion, all extremities
stilled as we stare gasping into the
dark nothingness that surrounds us
heads thrown back and hands clasped
together as we slip away
floating no where, watching galaxies
being ****** into black holes
and stars exploding into limbo
before we find ourselves back
in bed, abruptly, chests heaving and
slick with sweat
where we try to put ourselves back together
fruitlessly
Apr 25, 2012
Apr 25, 2012 at 10:21 PM UTC
Sometimes, looking at you in the light of the kitchen I want
to run a finger
Down the length of your nose but
I know you'd wrinkle it, and shake your head citing a tickle, but kiss behind my shoulder as soon
As I turn away
When my feet make ice pools in the bed
Toes accidentally brushing your ankle and you **** abruptly, but upon hearing
My sigh, trap them back with your ankles til, martyr that you are, I'm engulfed in
Warmth at your
Expense.
Sometimes the last trickle of milk is mine, for the coffee,
Silent with your eyes smiling fondly, you look on as I sip, resolutely stirring powdered
Dead baby souls into mug as substitute.
Even damp smelly socks
Greasy hair
Neurotic tears and
Intellectual rambling epiphanies
Even childish blunders, fudging the
Budget or burning the toast
You still call me fond Things.
And love Me.
The most.
Dec 21, 2015
Dec 21, 2015 at 9:19 PM UTC
And it was at that age...Poetry arrived
in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don't know how or when,
no, they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me.
I did not know what to say, my mouth
had no way
with names
my eyes were blind,
and something started in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
deciphering
that fire
and I wrote the first faint line,
faint, without substance, pure
nonsense,
pure wisdom
of someone who knows nothing,
and suddenly I saw
the heavens
unfastened
and open,
planets,
palpitating planations,
shadow perforated,
riddled
with arrows, fire and flowers,
the winding night, the universe.
And I, infinitesmal being,
drunk with the great starry
void,
likeness, image of
mystery,
I felt myself a pure part
of the abyss,
I wheeled with the stars,
my heart broke free on the open sky.
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A melancholy ***** we came to adore
in mournful tone, finish the tale abruptly
and sob, uncontrollably;
"Memories of my melancholy ******
including "Love in the times of cholera"
are now part of our folklore, this land
of cashew groves and banana plantations
in Indian landscape, far far away from Latin American shores.
Her lascivious days are over
death visits the house of love, blood splattered
and a haunt of dark happenings, that begets children with tails,
shame, honor and secrets creep out of manuscripts.
Gabo is no more, no more"Living to tell the tale"
the Part Two, promised before.
Gabriel Garcia Marquez, after three false starts
goes to his final abode for rest, now.
A coded manuscript, written in
in classical Sanskrit,
(the language of all divine texts
of Indian sages of yore)
scripted by the mysterious gypsy,Melquiades
predicts the wipe out of Buendia clan
of five generations
Torrential rain and deluge engulf Macondo,
ends "One hundred years of solitude".
Gabo you point towards east
what is the answer to the conundrum of Buendias?
In Mexico city
they were preparing to take Gabo to his last ride
to the origin of all magical realism he'd return
In a land far away,
yet exactly the same landscape as Latin Americas
we grieve his death as that of one of our own
Gabo, in past thirty years, you mysteriously taught us
to discern the magical realism of cosmos
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 12:35 PM UTC
a cerebral grasping of existence’s resplendence
is insufficient
tenuously treading bereavement’s tide
i cradle life
twinkling moments spent on this planet
are hallowed time
i walk in quiet reverence as tears flow
at innocuous occurrences
god’s face aglow in each instance
perspective revived
a bumblebee drifting gently settles
evoking awe
i stand pensive aforetime unaware
in cathedrals we stand
eyes newly uncovered awakened discover
celestial dimensions
people replete with infinite spirit
are all that surround
my senses abruptly adjusting their focus
‘tis an earthly angelic realm
©2016janetaylor
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 6:42 AM UTC
i often, longingly, of your striving pinkest
lips do eat by my own lips curling with
them into a neat pile of tremendous ***
i often, strivingly, long to eat, of your chests
pale basin, the apt fruit of your *******
i, longing, and strive with the savage
electric lash of thy fragrant throat
i dance and marvel at your feeling
my chest hands
i drink of them
and i'm etherised smoothly at
their hot rumple of my skin
and i you just can't barely
for thou art the dripping
rill of Cupid's apt *****
thou art, between darkness
and light, abruptly hung
with my flesh (from which
is sated thy lustful flowers
perfectly glistening petals
'neath me and groaning)
Feb 20, 2012
Feb 20, 2012 at 6:11 PM UTC
Hungry.
In the silence,
of this afternoon,
they arrive, ready
to feed children who wait
in nest high above.
Their high whistle dancing,
pierces the soundscape
These mejiros--yellow with sharp white eyes,
Comb through hibiscus bush
Finding a meal
Hidden within
Like parrotfish
Munching through coral reef,
I sit under tree listening,
Abruptly
The seashells to my mind
Fill with shrill sounds
Of mothers scolding monsters,
A quickening--
Their white eyes dart like fearful
squid flying through
brushy undercurrents.
Underneath,
The small lion cat
Stalks the
Hungry sounds
In the bush
the Hungry looking for Hungry
Apr 26, 2019
Apr 26, 2019 at 9:22 PM UTC
Oh sleepless night
What a trick on me you play!
For the reason I cannot sleep
Is because I anticipate the day
We build our day up
To have it elapse at night
But how too often a time I experience
A continuance through the night
Oh how unfair to me you see
For nighttime is a break much overlooked
Because I walk through the day quite sleepily
Which is difficult in a day so overbooked
Sleeping figures
Rejuvenating minds
Your mind is cultivating in peace
While my face is forming lines
Oh how I wish I didn’t get so worked up
I expected this to happen
Which ironically is the reason
My tiredness has been dampened
I lay in bed, ready
Ready to try this out
A pleasant sleep is all I wanted
Without completely passing out
How I get so jealous when
You lay there and drift to rest
While I’m dealing with two polar issues--
Either abruptly collapse into sleep or else from it slowly digress
Oh sleepless night, you tease me so
You fool with me and upset me so
For when thinking of tomorrow I surely know
I’m not going to be as lively as my potential.
It’s like I’m a hobo on Fifth Ave
Looking at the rich not realizing what they have
I get excited over spare change
While you collect your pay checks again and again
So let’s face it, tomorrow I’ll be miserable
And I’ll look forward to when the clock strikes night
But then the hours I have will become considerable
So I’ll lay there restlessly and drift away just before the light.
So I’ll get a taste of what sleeps like
But I’ll never get to experience it right.
Oh you cruel, mean sleepless night!
Where dwells your brother so known as the “Goodnight”?
Sep 5, 2013
Sep 5, 2013 at 4:53 PM UTC
Dogs take new friends abruptly and by smell,
Cats' meetings are neat, tactual, caressive.
Monkeys exchange their fleas before they speak.
Snakes, no doubt, coil by coil reach mutual knowledge.
We then, at first encounter, should be silent;
Not court the cortex but the epidermis;
Not work from inside out but outside in;
Discover each other's flesh, its scent and texture;
Familiarize the sinews and the nerve-ends,
The hands, the hair - before the inept lips open.
Instead of which we are resonant, explicit.
Our words like windows intercept our meaning.
Our four eyes fence and flinch and awkwardly
Wince into shadow, slide oblique to ambush.
Hands stir, retract. The pulse is insulated.
Blood is turned inwards, lonely; skin unhappy ...
While always under all, but interrupted,
Antennae stretch ... waver ... and almost ... touch.
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you see
i had always felt
that in a dream
i was the absence
of the dream
and then it dawned on me
that i was in a time piece
trapped during forgotten hours
where everything is alien
but vaguely familiar
the beach beneath me wandering
off to anywhere but here
and i straddle the shoreline
palming stray shards of sea glass
always the color of her eyes
and i am abruptly upside down
an upheaval, a maw
where i thought it as
a nightly revenge
for skipping stones
and again i am upended
& back on the beach
born of broken hourglasses
and it makes me think
that god likes to watch things leave me
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 11:35 AM UTC
My impending fear,
With danger near,
Only increased until I began to see myself wondering how he left without shedding a single tear.
And happiness,
My biggest weakness,
Was on a constant downward spiral into something that made even myself wish to digress.
But suddenly,
Fairly abruptly,
I began to understand how his absence brought me a soft feeling of serenity.
My excuses,
Hidden bruises,
I was reluctant to push the blame onto anyone but myself even though I didn't choose this.
People asked me,
Quite literally,
If I was aware that I smiled brighter and laughed louder now that I've had this epiphany.
And finally,
Now I can see,
I allowed myself to be taken for granted just so I wouldn't have to be lonely.
And in the end,
I recommend,
Looking inside yourself and seeing the broken bonds you must mend.
Aug 25, 2016
Aug 25, 2016 at 9:12 PM UTC
Squeeze your feet into synthetic fins.
See the world in big rubbery lenses.
Don’t forget the snorkel, of course! Bite tight.
Hobble to the shore,
Where the two worlds meet.
The sea splashes gently on the sand.
It hurls itself forward
And then recedes back.
Its motions are like gestures,
Telling you to draw close
And closer.
Its peaceful surface is an invitation itself,
Painted blue and glittered with sunshine.
Accept the invitation with gladness.
Don't be afraid!
Let the briny waters embrace you.
Let the cold tickle your skin.
Let the waves rock you back and forth.
You have entered a grand ballroom
Illuminated with a majestic chandelier of refracting sunlight.
The colorful corals with shapes of mounds, disks, and crowns,
Sway with the rhythm of the current.
The fishes dance around and about,
Each beaded with scales of various vibrant colors.
And then the reef ends.
The colors abruptly plunge into a black abyss.
Look down and allow yourself to be
Filled with fear, terror,
Or maybe
Insatiable curiosity.
Now let that curiosity stir discontentment in you:
Discontentment with snorkeling.
Let it ignite a craving for
More thrill, more wonder.
It's time to go deep sea diving.
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 10:28 AM UTC
On cold, October evenings, you can hear the rustling of leaves being blown by the wind.
Your neighbor's dog barking with an echo down the street.
The giggling of children as they play games under the glow of dim street lights.
You are not alone.
And then there's the sunset,
Colors grazing what is left of the autumn leaves on the trees,
it is time for you to situate yourself back into your home.
There's a quietness to your house; bodies lingering nearby but don't present themselves.
You scale the stairs that creak with each step like an eerie tune that brings brief life into the home.
Bristly fur of a cat brushes against your goose bumped skin.
You are not alone.
The stillness of your bedroom,
The hall light peeking through from under your closed door creating shadows in the darkness.
The light representing someone is still awake in the quiet house as you're trying to close your eyes and shut off your thoughts.
Quiet sobbing turned into hyperventilating as the blanket you're clutching, crumples as your grip tightens.
You feel cold and helpless fighting internally with the dark shadows making their way into your mind.
Your gasping breaths are abruptly stopped by the beat of rushed footsteps.
The swinging open of your door creates a wave of light that masks out the nothingness in your room.
Their arms wrapping tightly around your shaking body,
as you gurgle your fears out of your throat,
is that warmth you craved.
"You are not alone."
Sep 4, 2017
Sep 4, 2017 at 8:54 PM UTC
For long, my house has been lying deserted
My gate has not been opened wide to let in anyone
No guest has so far come to visit me
Tired of distant wanderings
I have come here to listen to the beat of silence
Occasionally broken by the sound
Of birds' laughing wings overhead
Here I have brooding shadows for company
Hermit like I wrap myself in my solitude
Now abruptly when you announce your arrival
I feel excited and equally perplexed
What shall I serve you? I am at a loss
My hearth has not been lighted for long
And my kitchen pots remain empty
I know I should serve you
Something chilled or warm
In my menu, I have a simple surprise
But not of the edible kind
Nor delectable to your palate
But as I have known you since long
I hope it will appease you
In poetry’s platter
I shall serve my thoughts warm,
Garnered in the lonely hours
Of my solitude!
The only dish I have!
Jun 30, 2016
Jun 30, 2016 at 6:26 AM UTC
I know you only wanna loosen the bolts in my head,
But i won't give you the pleasure of seeing me cry in my bed!
But what exactly do you gain?
Deliberately making me go through pain!
For crying out loud, I call you my friend!
So why did you turn abruptly towards the end?
I don't even know who to talk to,
because the you I used to know in black and white suddenly became another hue!
Now my only resort is to put my thoughts in declamation,
Because telling the world what I'm going through'll be like exaggeration!
But feigning not disappointed aint true,
So I'll take this as one of the major lessons to be learnt!
But know this,don't take me for a fool!
If you do, you'll be suprised to know the magnitude of the kingdom I'll rule!
I just don't understand why people take one for granted,
Hmmm,believe me when I say no one knows tomorrow.
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 12:25 PM UTC
I once rode the city bus in New Orleans
To rest my feet and see the town
A couple minutes in a young boy boarded
Took the seat across from me and sat down
**** Love" was tattooed across his knuckles
Our eyes met and he looked at me knowing
And I just smiled and looked away
Abruptly, he asked where I was going
I told him I wanted to explore the city
He told me to steer clear of certain places
And told me which roads were safe
That some areas are dangerous for girls with pretty pale faces
We chatted for a while longer
And when we reached his stop he bid me farewell
I smiled and told him goodbye
Little did he know he gave me a grand story to tell
And I tell it frequently
My brief meeting with **** love boy
He gave me a memory to look on
When I need some joy
I'll always remember
People aren't always what they seem
And think of **** love boy
That I met in New Orleans
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 3:47 AM UTC
What a face
"Sells"
Abruptly she yells
Matte burning dry
Just try
Too moisten her lips
She's the Red devil
From hell why does her
orange face peel sell?
The right color
a psychic won't tell
Wishing well drenched
He touched my orange juice
"All Frenched"
She loves to slice and
he peels what appeal
orange saffron sauce
One last juicy squirt
divorce
It's time for fresh squeeze
Too frozen concentrate
The happy hour "Orange" feel
no other place like fate
Ten times real
"One" face peel has been
love absorbed
Like lemon meringue
Tainted love
Bitter grind soft butter glove
Do you mind orange flame
(The Spa) sells to be loved
Tra la so kind all Grunge
Going "Wawa" coffee cruel
Other colors haha
Movie set Orange payroll
lounge tease squirt
But destroyed by the evil
spell curse
Summoned on sunburst
But we need the Orange
before the sun comes
Like clones orange, you glad
we have "Green Apple"
phones
One step beyond orange
zones
I don't want to burst your
orange sauce
Grand Marnier starry twist
of orange
Two timing orange yogurt
Taste to tangy it hurt
Hey Yo Orange peel Spa
Still sticks Orange Julius
flirt
O outrageous P pick
What turns us on and gets us sick
Plan your work and work your plan
Never offend her
Let's see the chef make you love her
Creamified dreamlike Whip free
The orange mousse pie
Let me hear it yummy to lie
Apr 21, 2018
Apr 21, 2018 at 11:43 AM UTC
A cold October morning,
Treated just like the rest,
The boy awoke nauseous,
With a pain in his chest.
A longing for something,
Far out of his reach,
He settled for darkness,
Brushed red in between.
The pain became pale,
followed next by his skin,
Respiring so slowly,
The lights going dim.
Adrift into nothing,
What feels like a dream,
Is death coming slowly,
A dying brain's final feed.
"Is this what it feels like to be dead, I think I like this feeling"
Awoken abruptly,
Surrounded by fear,
Who are all these people,
and how'd he get here.
Looking up from his back,
A tear falls from her eye,
"Relieved" does her no justice,
For not having to say...
Goodbye..
Aug 9, 2014
Aug 9, 2014 at 5:00 PM UTC
People keep asking me how I’m doing.
If I’m getting better or if I’ve taken the time to process what’s happened.
If I’ve sought professional help for the metal percussions induced by my career-ending injury.
In all honesty though, professional help is futile. It can’t save me now.
I’m walking through hell and sitting in a ring of fire discussing the temperature of the searing flames would be idiotic.
Why would I allow the flames to dance along my already seared skin longer than necessary?
I know they’re hot.
I know I’m in hell.
I know the pain I feel every day is real and crippling.
Talking about this pain wouldn’t end it. It wouldn’t diminish the heat. It wouldn’t help.
I need to keep walking.
I just need to keep walking.
My crippled body can’t run anymore, but I’ve got to keep walking.
Others continue to rush by. Frantic because they’ve never felt the flames.
They aren’t familiar with the burn. The idea of being in hell is novel.
They are novices.
But life hasn’t been kind to me.
These flames are familiar with every curve of my body and they dance around with trained feet.
I’ve been in hell for years.
People continue suggesting I find the light at the end of the tunnel, but that’s near impossible here.
I’m too blinded by the brightness of a vehement flame.
Sizzling with an angry vigor for the lack of gratitude I bestowed on my past life.
It mocks the speed at which I used to be able to run. It laps sardonically at the feet that used to run cheer-inducing speeds without thanks from their owner.
But crowds don’t cheer my name anymore.
I now stand on the sidelines and watch my team play.
I burn alive for the game I used to breath and as I watch each and every game, the deep breaths of oxygen only continue alighting the fire.
There’s no way out it seems, but I will try to keep walking.
Because talking is futile.
Note:
Spinal diseases are crippling mentally and physically. Watching the body you've sculpted for years turn to mush because you can't workout is dilapidating .
The despair and helplessness are unfamiliar feelings, feelings that can't be overcome. Disease is disease and sometimes it can't be stopped. Sometimes, it just becomes a burden to bear.
And sometimes people aren't strong enough.
It's different when careers end after four years of college. An expected end, an anticipated end. But when things you love are taken from you abruptly, before your finished. The pain is exponentially worse.
Exponentially. Worse.
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 1:41 PM UTC
These 4 years drove your memories away,
but i never knew you'll make me write someday.
"Love at first sight" exists,i knew then,
I reminisce,12th April at dehradun railway station.
I hopped down the train,
whining children,seperating lovers
loving families,pleading beggars i saw,
Searching for coolie,my eyes glued
on a boy,leaning on a pole,
An absolute treat to eyes
casted a spell on heart of metal.
shapely body,white skinned,
curly hair,lips like petal.
Yellow t-shirt on the skin of gold,
dimple-dipped chuckles,widened his charm fourfold.
unsure,if it's just my eyes or it was him
who resembled the Greek Gods.
Talking over the phone,he burst into laughter
His playful,lively voice
husky deep baritone,
bringing my dead senses alive.
Mindlessly,I pictured us,together
laughing profusely on a riverside.
He raised his hands for adjusting his hair.
I felt his fingers brushing
a strand of my hair behind my ear.
The morbid roar of trains ,
turned into the symphony of my heart.
abruptly,
breaking my spell called a girl from behind,
long haired,beautiful,leapt at him,
no sooner he grabbed her tight in his embrace.
Mad Lovers,my heart soliloquised.
and here came all my wishful thinking to an end.
I turned and walked away a little heartbroken
before i could win him,he was taken .
You gave me nothing but trust me
for those minutes i wanted to be your everything
I scrumpulously stole those seconds from your life
which still make me skip a beat.
I'll think about you again after a few days,
for now,enough of nostalgia.
and which ***** said,
Love at first sight saves time?
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 5:09 AM UTC
Clasp of silvers twice as thin as each other
Both flat to end in its impact
Its echo does not repeat but lingers like static that makes you think of gold.
Drifting in an ascending melody that
Climbs the senses in your ears as much as your skin.
They lead us steadily
To the edge of the mountains and then stops abruptly.
Stopped incredibly as if it's afraid and timid.
Strings play so thinly as each are all skinny.
A miracle moving like smoke and gas welcomes her.
Slow dance in arpeggios, a glimpse of perfection for harmony, tip by tip
And in her quiver
She laments she'll wait forever.
Forever it may be til she is in the arms of the lover.
For the end of all thousand Decembers and Januarys
Undyingly and endlessly.
Anywhere you go
Seek the thunder you wander far and near, wide and narrow.
Until I hear you sigh
Until you stop holding your breath under the brim of our wishing well.
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 8:29 AM UTC
*The rain pours heavy on my windowpanes; it is only through the darkness that I realize what pain truly means. The sorrow, the lack of luster in everyday that has changed and I fear for those who do not yet know what madness life brings. It is nothing yet everything to understand what suffering brings. The state of darkness looming upon wake, and when the dreams of your subconscious mind come to life and haunt you day by day, I fear for those who do not yet know real pain. The loss of someone you love being ripped away, so abruptly; worse than a Band-Aid on fresh wounds, so terribly worse than seeing someone you love fall deeper and deeper into the chasm of their own demons, like a well you’re drowning and eventually succumb to frightening disdain. One realizes that everything in life isn't truly the same, change is the only constant in this delirious world of contradicting facsimiles.
You have nothing but hope and faith in this world of detriment. And I hope someday you find what you're truly looking for, whether it be love or the meaning to life. But never forget who you truly are, regardless of the pain and the tears that washed away the innocence of your years and fears. I am truly sorry for what you have endured, but I cannot look back anymore, nor ponder upon those heart wrenching fears you called my own, of which I cannot call my own. You must own them like cheap records, and let them die in the night like the decades of musical loss and dying discords. You must find yourself in this beautiful world, never give up on everything wonderful. For you are worth much more than words, much more than anything I could ever endure.
© 2014 Christina Jackson*
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 10:27 PM UTC