"abuzz" poems
My mind is abuzz,
Like a hummingbird does.
It can't be still,
And it was my will
To make everything so,
Because how will I know
The outer limits of my essence
Without spiritual lessons?
Self-taught, fear not,
Happiness is sought
Through a curious burn.
The lessons I learn
From engaging my mind,
Is that I am not blind
To tuning into frequencies,
And avoiding delinquencies
With each new experience,
Learning to control delerience.
My inner being thirsts
For a gift labeled a curse.
I want to break these chains,
Be more than insane.
I want to be free
To be the real me.
Every great individual
Has ideas that are sensational.
So say what you will,
I will have these spiritual spills,
That shakes where I dwell,
And brings me out of my shell.
I have the right to engage
With my mind, uncaged.
Hummingbirds die
If they are caged inside.
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 9:26 PM UTC
The Red Ants At His Picnic
Her pillow eyes gleamed
at his advances,
inching along slowly.
His anteater likeness,
rising,
coming to an anthem,
frolicking on her picnic,
on her mound,
hoarse and hungrily.
Rendevous antics to form.
Wave after wave,
the red ants at his picnic,
dancing,
dancing like there's no tomorrow,
seducing him in further.
He,
so antsy,
anticipating.
In his genre,
happily along,
on her trail,
like a hunter,
taking her welcoming little red colony,
to kingdom
come.
To ******* come,
where her castle and moats succumb,
relenting,
saluting to his anthem.
Where soon white clouds a bursting,
blue skies emerging.
The sublimity and antidote holding on,
holding on to her picnic.
And the rocket's did red glare,
the bombs bursting in air-
together,
to gather.
And there they were ... chaos, abuzz,
lyrical
then calm.
Sustenance drawn on their faces.
A slight breeze runs through the grass
the red ants at bay.
Logan Robertson
4/17/2018
Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 6:15 PM UTC
The traditional Christmas Windows of Wonder
Were set to be unveiled at five
This meant to the children and parents
That Santa was set to arrive
Each year on the eve of the annual parade
All the stores in downtown did display
their annual Windows of Wonder
And the town was abuzz all the day
Children staring, windows frosting
Their mouths open wide like their eyes
Christmas was captured in an 8 by 10 box
With gifts piled up to the skies
Christmas presents of every sort
Trees and tinsel, lights and *****
Children staring, frozen stiff
Christmas wishes behind plate glass walls
Parents and children watched the parade
Waiting for Santa to come
In between all the floats, there were still the displays
As the children who all stood there numb
Toys and mechanics, robots and dolls
Trains and race cars on tracks
The children all stared and they dreamed of just how
Santa would get all these gifts in his sack
In the midst of the crowd was a blonde, little girl
A good breeze could just blow her away
She'd been hovering there, looking at one small doll
And she'd been there for most of the day
The parade, it passed by, but she never did look
she knew Santa was not here for her
There was only one thing that had captured her heart
And that was the doll, that's for sure
The other kids looked, made their lists in their heads
Ready to tell Santa their list
but, this little girl stood alone from the crowd
She was cold and her cheeks were ice kissed
The parade ended late, and Santa went in
took his chair and he met with the throng
But, this girl stood aside, never moving on up
And the Santa, knew something was wrong
He called her by name, which gave her quite a start
She was scared, but she moved at his call
She sat on his lap, and he reached down behind
And he gave the small girl the small doll
Her face lit the room, more than any display
She said "Santa, just how did you know?"
He said, "Sarah, my dear, it's as plain as can be"
"It's as easy as making it snow"
He put her back down, clutching her doll to her chest
And she walked to the front of the store
but, before she went out, she turned back to say thanks
And where he was, there was Santa no more
Is it magic to think that this Santa was real?
Or did this man know just what he should do?
He made Sarah's Christmas, by giving that doll
And I'm sure he made many more too
The Children of Christmas stare wide eyed all day
Dreaming hard of when Santa will call
But,, off in the corner of the chlly, young crowd
Stands a girl, with her new Christmas doll
Nov 17, 2012
Nov 17, 2012 at 2:35 PM UTC
.. For as flying.
Spying
Places repose.
Dream, suppose.
Dreams loll without respite Shady oak. Bright swirl spring breeze
Of green crisp apple bite. Shelter bespoke. Insects morn, vast seas
As gold burns warmer. Sleep, still abuzz. Clouds as beat wings
Sun shadows corner Seconds love. Million insects sing
Dreaming more light Eyes shut, island. Time goes, seconds fit
Colours mix despite. Twig woodland. Seen today, exquisite
Great light bested. Instant, rested. The rays pestered
Shadows nested Dreams vivid. Up, now rested
Colours
Mull
Jul 22, 2015
Jul 22, 2015 at 5:38 PM UTC
I kept oscillating;
in and out of love,
in and out of emotions,
between the familiar realm of raunchy young adult literature and
the new, slightly uncomfortable realm of raunchy young adult life.
I oscillated between dispositions;
between pensive and restless,
***** and
not remembering what kissing feels like,
between the doldrums of despair and the
weightlessness of bliss.
My center of gravity oscillated, too-
from my head to my heart to
my thighs
to the cavernous void in my amygdala that was once abuzz with stupid chemicals brought out by the hysterics of infatuation
Sep 20, 2013
Sep 20, 2013 at 11:16 PM UTC
Memories can become blurry, over time,
like underdeveloped photographs,
or incomplete, like sunlight through blinds.
Our lives move ever forward,
like the inflexible patterns of stars.
Once fevered and immediate events
recede, with frightening, doppler effect,
as remembered yesterdays,
become forgotten yesterdays.
New Haven was abuzz. The hotels were booked and moving trucks had taken every free parking space for miles. Last Sunday was freshmen move-in day and 1,554 freshmen moved into their Yale residences. It’s one of our favorite days of the year. The hubbub of freshmen moving, lunching, shopping and later, seeing off their departing parents, created a delicious emotional chaos that we watched unfold, like a Greek chorus.
The movie ‘Love Actually’ begins and ends with montages of people greeting friends, family and loved ones at Heathrow airport - it’s emotional and heartwarming. Move-in days are a lot like that - with their gordian knots of beginnings and endings. My parents were nervous and emotional on my freshman move-in day - as was I - but we all tried, desperately, not to show it.
Welcome to New Haven freshmen, everything’s beautiful, but you’ll get too busy to enjoy it much.
We upperclassmen move in tomorrow.
Aug 24, 2023
Aug 24, 2023 at 1:20 PM UTC
He had to come back.
On a December afternoon
when the sun was more to west,
he landed on the most favorite place of his house,
the roof.
Just as he had imagined
the still winter air was abuzz with life.
Doves were pairing for a home
Green bee-eaters swooped on insects
Two herons kept following the grazing cow
Crows were busy with twigs and wires
High up beyond where paper kites could soar
Storks slow sunned their wings wet from the jhil
The cats warmed their furs before the cold night
The stray puppy gamboled with its mother.
Each piece had perfectly fitted the other
including the silently sleeping house.
He was tempted to walk down once
has she changed any little way?
He smiled to himself
then breezed away from the roof.
Dec 31, 2015
Dec 31, 2015 at 6:19 AM UTC
Her body’s poetry
got my taste buzz
buzzing for honey
My body buzzing
with excitement
Her mind flirtatious ways
signal my body
like a buzzer
My mind buzzing
with ideas
Heart flares abuzz
like a blaze
I’ve heard the latest
buzz about her ecstasy
breathlessly waiting to
abuzz into her body’s heat
Shhhh,
Her body’s poetry
buzzing for my love!
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 8:52 AM UTC
Here I am again
On the verge of tears
Quiet
I tell myself
That way nobody will hear
I pace the floor
My family is sleeping
But my mind is awake
Abuzz with insecurities
I tear myself apart
Somehow I find myself
Reaching for a blade
I haven’t done that in 4 days
I know it sounds crazy
But it was the longest I’d gone since March
I reset the clock
So now I wait
To be so broken again
All I can think of is destroying myself more
May 29, 2017
May 29, 2017 at 11:00 PM UTC
A bullfrog serenades his mate
With a booming baritone in anticipation to conjugate
Whilst the wind hums softly
Dry leaves rustling incessantly.
Within the vicinity, bees buzz
The air abuzz
With beautiful chirpings from birds
Visiting colorful flowers and buds
For nectaries
Nature’s nitty gritty pleasantries
The wind croons in a haphazard harmony
A bearable monotony
Of sorts
All these are exclusive happenings in exotic resorts.
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 3:12 AM UTC
**If you want to get some reads
Include Deborah in your write
Poets will be stopping in
Like the dropping in of flies
The place will be all abuzz
With the clicking of the likes
If you want to get some reads
Include Deborah in your write
If your wanting to be known
Throw Deborah into the poem
Doesn't much matter what you say
It'll still have it going on
Whether you feel that this is right
Or know that it is wrong
If your wanting to be known
Throw Deborah into the poem
Sir, have you no shame
In the use of Deborah's name
This is supposed to be serious poetry
Not some popularity game
So think about this truthfully
As I ask you once again
Sir, have you no shame
In the use of Deborah's name
Mmmmmmm......not really.**
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 4:19 PM UTC
Alabaster Affair
her skin was like a pure driven snow
laid behind the deepest blue eyes
and the brightest ruby red lips
you could not look at her and not
want to kiss those soft velvet lips
want to stare into those eyes
want to touch that skin
feel her run her long fingernail
up the spine of your back
to the back of your neck and chest
the nerve endings all over your body
exploding messages of pleasure
the chance meeting in the park
in an early spring warming sun
flowers beginning to burst with life
trees reaching up with their new leaves
you could not take your eyes off
sitting on the edge of the fountain
spewing a water spray from an angels mouth
two angels together in one slice of time
you waited as long as you could
it was time to return to work from lunch
and you had already run 10 minutes over
you walked past her dreading leaving
she looked up with those big blue eyes
and those ruby red lips began to move
you transfixed not realizing she was speaking
you stopped abruptly trying to clear your mind
but still no sound could be heard
only her big rimmed straw hat of white
the the bluest blue eyes
and reddest red lips
and her white alabaster skin
luckily she recognized the symptoms
and smiling put her hand on your arm
and waited patiently for the blood
to return to your brain
oddly she spoke with an island accent
how could this creature come from the islands
the sun and sand and alabaster
she was a princess mandated to sanctuary
on a holiday with her father
who was on business stop here in Atlanta
she knew no one here and the park
was just across the street from her sky suite
for some reason she felt okay speaking with me
now I was 30 minutes late as I took
a quick peek at my watch
you must go she asked?
Yes but can I show you the city later
Yes she smiled to me
I think I would like that
after getting her room number
I triple skipped, jumped and hopped
back to my office my head still abuzz
I stared into dreamland for the next 4 hours
you gonna stay over my boss yelled to me
I shook my head *** it was 5:05
he yelled you gotta date Rob
yes an affair to attend to I said
an alabaster affair
Gomer LePoet ....
May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 6:40 PM UTC
You rushed in like a quarterback carrying the ball
Like a rookie I fell for the fake play
Hook, line, and sinker, I foolishly bought it all
It seemed like a game that started out fair
Fans all abuzz claiming "This is our year!"
Now the bleachers stand empty, not a soul left to cheer
Nothing left but to turn off the stadium lights
On a field that was once so hopeful and bright
Off to the locker rooms both teams retreat
One to lick their wounds as the other celebrates the championship repeat
In glory you'll go on to play for more teams
While this career-ending injury is killing my dreams
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 2:50 PM UTC
about to clamber
into bed when I looked out the window:
no moon hangs sky-side
the full moon was just this week,
wasn't it, and yet
I can't spot Selene
anywhere in the **** sky,
***** was supposed to be here
by 10:30 at the latest,
and now it's nigh on 11 and my
lunar lover is impossible to find.
cellular abuzz:
tragedy mixed with twitter
notifications.
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 11:58 PM UTC
i would compromise
--i compromise. i appear to i mean,
with peace-demeanor customized for show
paraded there and there, obeisant nonsense
in a confidence of meek to render compliments
crowding infancies of all
for the sake of art
i bend my frame about cliche
to have a human dragon claim
"the real persists unknown"
and gather at a sacred dolmen
fascinating morals sung beneath the stars and sun--
you said there was a butterfly
tasting at my skull, shaking with uncommon music too..
its skinny, immigrant feet abuzz
within the world they called a One, wings on pause, my eyebrows in flight.
a blanket iris cries warmth
in clusters hung ripe, filming over all
a native ceremonial, falsepolitik
i pluck at them atop a fence
obscure for comforts masking truth
discarded, found, fashioned
into furniture for candled houses
built with children's sons
where families try to see
a clearing in the warping
mirrors saddled with a dripping time no illustration comprehends
. wooden beams help it rise and dim,
the sunny lie, genuinely fake,
authentic trick of aeons hidden in the true
-- growing young, stemming back
to foil brighter undiscoveries for otherwisely
patient basements full of heirlooms,
sheik dining areas all
nodding over cheap wine we still manage to squint up at nothing at
in apple layers
symbolizing tidy crimes invented ceaselessly,
serving existential voids--
grace, fall, stumble catch
acquired tones of oak or berry--
other fruits would do, or none,
as i still feel
praised by your rejections --
when indifference gains a sweetness
like a novel vengeance won
i am indulging villainy
workshopping staling norms,
garden dark as cultivated loam.
where i am words
mooding intellect to torment,
faun complexity awry
Mar 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013 at 8:37 AM UTC
C old & cool
A iry & abuzz
N atural & noble
A ppetizing & appealing
D angerous & dandy
A muck & AWESOME
Apr 27, 2017
Apr 27, 2017 at 7:46 AM UTC
He had to come back.
On a December afternoon
when the sun was more to west,
he landed on the most favorite place of his house,
the roof.
Just as he had imagined
the still winter air was abuzz with life.
Doves were pairing for a home
Green bee-eaters swooped on insects
Two herons kept following the grazing cow
Crows were busy with twigs and wires
High up beyond where paper kites could soar
Storks slow sunned their wings wet from the jhil
The cats warmed their furs before the cold night
The stray puppy gamboled with its mother.
Each piece had perfectly fitted the other
including the silently sleeping house.
He was tempted to walk down once
has she changed any little way?
He smiled to himself
then breezed away from the roof.
Jan 27, 2025
Jan 27, 2025 at 10:08 AM UTC
We were washed in the dim glow of moonlight,
Our heartbeats calm and tranquil,
Serenity beat around us,
And soft melodical jazz that thrilled.
It was a beautiful night,
One that transcended the bounds of reality,
We felt as two stars transported,
Into a sweet magical galaxy.
I felt your soft satin skin touch upon my hand,
And a innocent desire took hold of me.
I put your hand upon my shoulders and grabbed your waist.
We twisted and spun to the sound of jazz,
Our bodies synced in rhythm and grace,
As if two stars that burned for long,
Had collided in a charming embrace.
Your moonlit body glided across the floor like a graceful swan,
Practised and perfected in its movement and poise,
As I looked upon my fate with head upheld and flashed a grateful smile to it twice.
And we whirled and twirled,
Every second abuzz with magic and delight,
Our bodies weary and sweat drenched,
Yet, our soul's thirst unquenched.
As we slowed down,
I had an ardent desire to never halt,
And In that moment fate immortalised us,
And we became the two dancing stars who never stopped.
Apr 25, 2017
Apr 25, 2017 at 6:16 PM UTC
kiss me with a mouthful of mango sorbet;
you taste like
home and feel like
winter.
my craven desires, and
innocence in the arch of your
neck: caveats concealed in
kisses; you have
misgivings and we have
lain here for years upon years
desiring little more than to be
swallowed up by our
sins and shadows.
I'll be honest, if your moral
halflife is longer than the
school year, then
what's the point?
your beta decay is
pathetic, you're impotent, the
radiation is too weak to be
of any harm;
set my geiger counter
abuzz, like my phone
begging for attention like
you should beg for mine, and I
Love It,
you know I
do, quand tu manges
Le Gateaux, such an
eager little **** seeking
absolution like I have anything other than
Absolut to offer you.
you drink with the
desperation of a desert-dehydrated
man, with the
fervor of a woman throwing herself,
time and again, at the
Glass Ceiling, further success
visible and attainable:
you always spoke to me like
you had a mouthful of
broken Faberge eggs, and to
close your mouth would be to
Invite Pain.
you were always averse to pain, though you
relished in inflicting it, and I
loved little more than to be
bruised and beaten and bloodied by your
ardent affections.
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 2:47 PM UTC
the sun was blood orange,
dripping murderously into the
periwinkle sky, the trees were
angrily shaking their fists at
passersby, shadows looming
on the ground beside them.
the air seemed to vibrate,
abuzz with swarming voices
of the past and i swatted at the
sound in hopes that they would
not blast through the silence
i was sheltered in. it was the
end of something perilous yet
beautiful. love bit the dust almost
as hard as when it initially sank
it’s hungry teeth into the hull
of my heart, and no matter
how far away i ran
from the truth, it would pop
up in the window reflections, or
on the side of an expensive car,
staring me dead in the eyes
and i could not face
it—at least not yet—
i ran until my legs
betrayed me, no amount
of space could save me,
i just did not have a choice.
a ringing sounded
in the pit of my ears,
and when the clamor
cleared, what was left was
the remnants of your velvet
voice, drowning out any
and every other audible noise.
Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 5:38 PM UTC
You lit my life; my fuse was done,
While I swam deep waters all abuzz;
In fathoms deep, I sought your dream-
No one cares about dust on a submarine.
The mysteries were all right there,
The sky cracked open, to show new air,
And the whole world, with your presence rang-
No one cares about dust on a submarine.
Now I haunt the deepness of the void,
And my hope is no more buoyed.
In nameless twilight worlds, I'll sing;
No one cares about dust on a submarine.
Jul 26, 2010
Jul 26, 2010 at 7:32 PM UTC
About a year has passed. I've returned to the place of the battle,
to its birds that have learned their unfolding of wings
from a subtle
lift of a surprised eyebrow, or perhaps from a razor blade
- wings, now the shade of early twilight, now of state
bad blood.
Now the place is abuzz with trading
in your ankles's remnants, bronzes
of sunburnt breastplates, dying laughter, bruises,
rumors of fresh reserves, memories of high treason,
laundered banners with imprints of the many
who since have risen.
All's overgrown with people. A ruin's a rather stubborn
architectural style. And the hearts's distinction
from a pitch-black cavern
isn't that great; not great enough to fear
that we may collide again like blind eggs somewhere.
At sunrise, when nobody stares at one's face, I often,
set out on foot to a monument cast in molten
lengthy bad dreams. And it says on the plinth "commander
in chief." But it reads "in grief," or "in brief,"
or "in going under."
Joseph Brodsky
Jan 24, 2013
Jan 24, 2013 at 6:52 PM UTC
Barefoot in my yard as I did run
I felt not the grass, but something quite warm.
Between my toes I felt it squish
And make them slippery as a fish.
I stopped to look down and said "Oh ewww!"
"I stepped in a pile of doggy doo!"
'Twas fresh and warm between my toes
But made me wish I had no nose.
I walked back over to where it was
All the while my brain abuzz.
The slick sensation of my poopy toes
Felt kinda good and no one knows.
So I lifted my foot and stuck it back in
And squished the stuff through my toes again!
May 29, 2012
May 29, 2012 at 12:54 AM UTC
Morning mist frames her face, the contrast, he couldn't miss
a wild flower fresh, bathed in dew drops, she becomes fulfillment.
A bee, as usual seeking honey,without being aware what awaits,
sleeps in her chamber,couched in her love the whole night,
he stole her heart, she whispers, he keeps it as the fragrance
and the pollen smeared all over his being vowing never to remove,
a love it is, in essence different from all that he has hitherto known,
as if in a dream, stealing her heart, he flies up to the ultramarine sky
all abuzz with love tunes , orchestration of nature, intoxicating,
his heart is full of light love fills, now this bee is even ready to die.
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 10:05 AM UTC
This comedy thing plays out clearly
In the down of your throat, the way
You walk and talk in fits in yourself
Flies abuzz, your red scarf waving.
This morning we walked briskly
Explaining these things to ourselves
Our hands quickly went up in the air
Our throats cleared in anticipation
Nothing came save a guttural sound.
Since nobody laughed at our joke-
A two rupees joke on the cell- phone-
We sat deeply on the foundation,
As our legs dangled in empty space
Through the waving grass of the breeze
Showing bits of sunrise behind the hill.
Jan 24, 2010
Jan 24, 2010 at 6:53 PM UTC