"accosts" poems
1335
Let me not mar that perfect Dream
By an Auroral stain
But so adjust my daily Night
That it will come again.
Not when we know, the Power accosts—
The Garment of Surprise
Was all our timid Mother wore
At Home—in Paradise.
9.2k
Restless hungry, found a tiny scrap of a brownie in the back of the refrigerator, wrapped in plastic about the size of a large 35 cent quarter.
Gobbled up and gone.
Eye had purchased it a week ago, maybe more.
Actually it was more like eye was held up at gunpoint by a sad young face for a large and green single dollar Bill.
In return, was bequeathed said brownie eye dropper-ful.
The apartment I live in a big city, many apartments were recession empty for a long time. But in the last few years, the empty apartments in the building were almost all sold to foreigners.
Now the bldg is an amulet melted of the lucky overseas fortunate, those overseers overseas seizers, who come to reside in the most fabulous site in these United States...and buy a piece of the dream away from the be-headers, secret police or governments that decide you are now an enemy of the state, as of this morning. No judgement.
anyway, this doe eyed child of estimated six or eight years of age accosts me in our large lobby, proffers me the brownie scrap for a Bill.
me a sucker of a salesman myself, and an eye affician-doe, well those doefuls, those eyes, no one could resist!
so eye asked her name,
but all she could say in
Anglais was...
"Brownie One Dollar?"
laughing out loud for no apparent cause,
the hanging about lobbyists looked at me staring...
Why was eye laughing?
laughing cause eye realized
this elfin child had become
fitfully but fully Americanized.
and I loved her eyes in mine, and when I see her periodically, I say:
"Hey! Brownie One Dollar, How are ya!"
and everyone snicker smiles at the old man with the even stupider grin upon his eyes.
That would be eye.
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 7:02 PM UTC
375
The Angle of a Landscape—
That every time I wake—
Between my Curtain and the Wall
Upon an ample Crack—
Like a Venetian—waiting—
Accosts my open eye—
Is just a Bough of Apples—
Held slanting, in the Sky—
The Pattern of a Chimney—
The Forehead of a Hill—
Sometimes—a Vane’s Forefinger—
But that’s—Occasional—
The Seasons—shift—my Picture—
Upon my Emerald Bough,
I wake—to find no—Emeralds—
Then—Diamonds—which the Snow
From Polar Caskets—fetched me—
The Chimney—and the Hill—
And just the Steeple’s finger—
These—never stir at all—
3.1k
---
when every last vestige of
your humanity seems to be
a jigsaw puzzle game
strewn across the universe
with no possibility of
retrieval
of all pieces
KEEP YOUR MIND UPON THE LORD
when rage accosts the
very center of your heart
like a home invasion
taking with it
all the
milk of human kindness
KEEP YOUR MIND UPON THE LORD
when your flowers die
in a blight of ice
the very roots
frozen in the tundra
and spring becomes winter
in the space of an hour
KEEP YOUR MIND UPON THE LORD
when worry wrings your brain
like a fishwife with a towel
doubt lays a crooked wall
using your bones as a trowel
fear is a raven which
travels with the owl
KEEP YOUR MIND UPON THE LORD
when evil wells out
of every pore of your existence
like sludge drained from
the bottom of a
juggernaut
TANK
KEEP YOUR MIND UPON THE LORD!
for Jesus Christ is the
puzzle piece
which restores
the entire game
---
He's the peace which
passes all understanding
the joy which is our strength
---
He is the
Rose of Sharon
which has no time nor season
but blooms eternally
---
He is the mechanic
who made all destruction
and will
DESTROY THE WORKS OF DARKNESS
**KEEP
YOUR
MIND
UPON
♡ JESUS CHRIST ♡**
THE AUTHOR AND FINISHER
OF OUR
~~~< F • A • I • T • H >~~~
SoulSurvivor
(C) 7/16/2016
Jul 17, 2016
Jul 17, 2016 at 12:22 AM UTC
A fiery one accosts me today, as most days.
I feel she has been following me for much of my life.
She is my teacher. She draws the reigns of my body,
showing me how to surrender, that I might gain control.
But control I do not find. Rather, my indignation grows
from so oft' being reprimanded. But she reminds me
that I truly have never possessed any choice.
She reminds me to slide off peacefully, like water,
with grace, with dignity--of which I'm certain
I've none left. I have been taken when I did not want to give;
I have tried to give and found that none would take.
Now I'm certain the dregs of my purity have eaten through my stomach
just as acid. My flower withers without care. It is like
some vile disease. I waited too long, and now nobody wants it--
this thing that I forever saved. Neither does anyone want a child.
They only wish that I'd shut up. (She reminds me. I already know.)
And so I fall asleep--or fall apart--or fall into my grave.
Oct 7, 2012
Oct 7, 2012 at 12:29 PM UTC
Homeless old beggar Elderly, destitute man in serious need
disgusting and annoying really down and out, desperate
degrades the neighborhood probably feels safe around here
aggressively accosts me approaches me hopefully
thinks I'm an easy touch believes he can count on me
unappreciative...always wants more honest and humble about his needs
likely spends it on ***** and cigarettes maybe I'll bring him food next time
Takes advantage of my good nature Fortunate that I'm in a position to help
May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 1:07 PM UTC
The crisp air engulfs my lung,
As I begin my downward run.
Trees whip by in an endless haze,
As I zip through their leafy maze.
Downwards I go, but to where?
Only to the depths of my own despair.
Fear scours from the brain.
Loss of sense drives me insane.
My body rushes to the end.
To an outcome no medicine can mend.
I hear the wind’s furious roar.
So loud, that I cannot ignore.
Like an eagle’s screech it sinks in.
Leaving me desolate within.
Slowly pain creeps into my ear,
Until even the raucous wind I cannot hear.
The wind is no longer heard,
Yet the scent of pine is still observed.
Natural incense accosts my nose,
In unending scented tidal flows.
As I ascend, their sweet fragrance drifts away,
Until the nose, too, loses its way.
Fear scours from the brain.
Loss of sense drives me insane.
My body rushes to the end.
To an outcome no medicine can mend.
The mute unscented wind enters my throat,
As I scream, its icy tendrils freeze within my moat.
The tongue becomes non-dependent,
As taste buds become less apparent.
Instead of the crispy icy-taste,
The wind-ridden flakes become a senseless waste.
As I plummet coldness baths the skin,
Damp snow covers me from head to shin.
The frigid warmth of its crisp flakes,
Causes my skin to numb as it chillingly bakes.
A tingling sensation flares through me,
Luring me to numbing amnesty.
Fear scours from the brain.
Loss of sense drives me insane.
My body rushes to the end.
To an outcome no medicine can mend.
All that is left is the sight of the trees flying by.
My vision blurs despite what ever I try.
Daggers of frost singe my eyeballs,
Crusting my vision of nature’s wondrous halls.
All that I see becomes opaque,
Leaving me in a deep black wake.
Here I am approaching the end,
While dreading the life I tried to mend.
I feel my ascent coming to a crashing stop,
As life ebbs from my body’s quivering top.
At last!! Relief from the pangs of life!
At last!! Relief from life’s endless strife!
Jun 12, 2012
Jun 12, 2012 at 10:06 PM UTC
as I inhale you into my mind’s eye
I allow your beauty to sting my tongue
watching with awe as you wrap yourself
around me in smoky tendrils of memory
the burning gasoline taste of your absence
accosts my senses and I turn you away
but in a moment I will desire you again
I want you to surround me completely
longing for your scent and for your touch
softer than the warm night air
burning away into ash, I assail myself
the intoxication of your image is all I need
the dazzling lights of such a lonely city
and the hidden points of fire
which the sky longs to hold
obscured by the clouds of unknowing
and doubt and fear and every second
of not hearing your voice
ascending to the rooftops
I look for you on the horizon
wondering if every mile
is just another piece of me
that you’ll never have
in my dreams I am sprinting
through canyons deep and narrow
every crevice and cliff
a wrinkle in the face of glory
and as I fall, I weigh nothing
until the iron taste of blood wakes me
I am enveloped by a preoccupation
with your image, seared, burning like a torch
bright light amongst the darkness
feeling it flow in and through me
rushing out into the night air
a silent ghost; beauty that soon drifts away
your face disappearing into nothingness
Sep 14, 2010
Sep 14, 2010 at 3:03 PM UTC
Her hair was as black and as shocking as burning tyres;
And her pastel-hued eyes that once surveyed the dawn,
Could set the world aglow;
And her skin as white as alabaster and soft like the new found snow.
Her voice, oh, her voice was as cool and clear as ice,
Probing and touching and reaching like wanting fingers.
But she left...
She had left him with a life like a ruined photograph print,
One half burned to ashes and the other half torn,
And containing only the single, voiceless image,
Of a pair of red shoes moving in the winters breeze.
Outside,
The moths spin crazily across the slate-dark road;
In the midnight a puddle was ***** by the wind.
He plunges into the obscene night, taking the backroads,
His hands naked against the starry cold.
The leafless trees accosts his soul,
And the icy wind shears the skin from his body,
And all the while;
She looks down at him, there all alone;
Her body limp and swaying from her hanging tree.
Sep 13, 2020
Sep 13, 2020 at 9:14 PM UTC
morning sun is brightly shining, but,
in the dark, is where i am,
protesting,
there is a war going on.
changes are seen, felt,
happening to me and around me.
they are unacceptable this very moment
i am bound by something that rebels in my innermost.
this questions my faith in myself,
my capabilities.
am i languishing?
deteriorating?
is this just a respite?
could i have been blinded?
is something being painted before my very eyes
that fails to penetrate this weary mind of mine?
why is it that, at the same time,
A passive countenance,
a vacuum...accosts me...
there's this sting,
a biting feeling,
it goes on pricking,
puncturing my chest,
because it has been
realized and accepted:
i haven't strayed that far from
I, Me, Myself,
so obvious, in this written piece...
no thoughts
except those of inadequacy...
dwell in my mind
they dry up my throat
as I leaf through trivial pages,
going through each phase of life,
where I find myself surrounded
by things I've taken for granted
people I've thought of as uncelebrated...
thoughts are shallow,
the mind is narrow...
compunction floats in the air
merges with the winds of sensitivity
that blows against my reeling body.
then I come across a well of words
that further stir my already troubled mind
thoughts that pierce my eyes, and
my heart to the core,
shattering my complacency
into pieces,
my numbed awareness,
is now more awakened...
this vessel doesn't offer much,
it is wanting, asking
for more compassion
it is just half-filled...
ineptitude is admitted
and acknowledged...
a cloak is thrown over my head,
a last-ditch effort,
to shroud my now enlightened mind...
but, these awakenings make me quiver...
i need another kind of mantle,
light and transparent,
to hide myself from shame
to shield my poor threadbare soul...
Sally
Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 8:13 PM UTC
From your heart the connections to all wonders shine through your eyes the bliss of the all
Telling kiss we never want to miss you are beautiful and contrary to popular belief the sunset
Was made for you alone in the sense it is and was made with you in mind it stands as a
Standard for all time be drenched in its hues let the colors engulf and move you the moisture in
The air is the added vibrancy that carries you on to understanding privilege nature accosts your
Senses it would have you to know how important you are this crown this umbrella cradles and
Surrounds you it is the positive establishing to you the marvel and wonder that you perfect in
The world that unfortunately is seated in negative energy you are the beginning the attester to
The command performance that performs at the close of the day and is beheld in waters that
Give their glorious display ether in incomparable waves or waterfalls that showcase rock faces
And the water itself disturbs and somehow touches the inner being with a haunting similarity
There is that emotional flow that comes to the edge and then free falls into the depths with
Feelings that also are exciting the foaming stirs the inner chamber creating bubble filled joy you
Give expression to the ebb and flow found in all pursuits and all the things in the material world
In minute detail you guide us to the hidden that is obscure in the obvious in the animal kingdom
First it is identified by species take the horse for example first the glory that is easily understood
But you show the mane with that you caress by these strands that fall and flow down the neck
the face the muzzle so soft with such gentle feel almost would seem out of place but know its
Perfect the great captivating eyes seal the deal you turn your hand to structures that punctuate
Our natural habitation be it ether city buildings or homes the flow the lines the cuts the jutting
The ascetic with this architecture has produced tranquility a sense of seclusion a mind set of
Being insulated behind a fortress wall these are all the making of the statement you are in the
Ultimate sense the perfect and only beautiful one these natural gifts are given to enjoy but also
To attest to your special place in all things that matter you are the crowning achievement never
Should you be crest fallen or continue in the thought that you are inferior all things prove just
The opposite
Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 7:09 PM UTC
Hold onto the sea
Turn the edges square
Pull the wrinkled waves
To smooth the motion there
Placate the burning sun
Mist it with a spray
Release it's tension'd torque
As it accosts the day
Soothe my tattered heart
On it's loom of woe
Blooming out the sails
To make the stall let go
Sea owns not the waves
Sun owns not the burn
Ships cannot be saved
For love is never earned
Oct 22, 2010
Oct 22, 2010 at 11:43 AM UTC
Of a new white Chrysanthemum emerges
The Cyclamen accosts
As the Fir cauterizes the Fern
the Petunia is haunting them
-evenoer-
Dec 17, 2019
Dec 17, 2019 at 4:15 AM UTC
Some stunted departing words
Conventional yet presented
Like a granite tile
Close at my feet
You sneer somewhere in the realms of smiling
Before you step the stairs
Moments pass
A dash of rain spurts across the glass
Complicated window
I know now
That you curse
Somewhere in the realms of whining
In utter solidarity
Juvenality buried amongst nostalgia accosts me
I stare
Somewhere in the realms of admiring
My window is drying
We are also dispersed
Somewhere in the realms of tiring
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 1:08 PM UTC
mid December vivication
where steady rain accosts snow shod sod
cold and callous kiss of contempt
dawning different shades of blue
which leave me
paralyzed in apocalyptic premonitions
trapped in the grasp of a memory
Dec 10, 2019
Dec 10, 2019 at 9:02 PM UTC
I often find my posits dreadful,
Happiness flies merely fleet,
So much compounds, accosts a headful
Angry, gnawing, awful heat!
In joyful sorrow I must live
For truest joy is not to be
And frightened by, as laws decree,
A final debt, a life to give.
(Then summons me, my last repose,
To Heavens Gate, that some suppose.)
I cannot shed this melanchol’,
So Viper-like time’s turbulence,
Nor sally forth ‘pon brevet fall,
Conning self in feckless hence
When plaintiff Hell wraths from my lips,
“O’ Fie! Ye craven Viper! Fie!
Why should it be that I must die?”,
By fevered brain’s convulsive flips.
(As if a Viper’s state be blamed
For thus which gives me abject pain.)
And in these throes of torrid temper
Comes a hummingbird in flight,
Engaged in moments: basic, simpler,
Perfect-formed wee aero-sprite!
So happily he flits about
When seeking nectar, bloom-by-bloom,
In flowers bright as peacock plumes
And worries not of Earthly doubts.
(For hummingbirds have innate sense
Of urbane thoughts and true pretense.)
His playful flight in mayful flutter
Sagely parries **** the trees
Through ev’ry leaf he flies a’scutter
Daring, as his heart will please!
My dearth, it seems, I now forget;
A tiny smile claims my face
And grows to full by levied grace
To pause my Earthly-borne regret!
(This newly forged respite from woe
Has cast away my pitied trow!)
What revelation rids my sadness
(All those worries disappear)
And what was anguish turns to gladness
Gone, the nagging mortal fears.
O’ they’ll return, I have no doubt,
To wrest my contemplative mind
But now assured that I can find
A joyful thought to fight such bout
I will forever carry near.
And to the hummingbird in flight
I’ll cherish how you drew my sight
To rid a foolish mortal’s tears.
(As hummingbirds will understand
The foibles taken by our hand.)
Aug 18, 2019
Aug 18, 2019 at 9:17 PM UTC