"ameliorated" poems
Her suicide left a loneliness
only partly ameliorated by
a good ********
with her bereaved Mum
up both gaping holes.
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 11:05 AM UTC
i.
She is becoming
As she hast ameliorated mine pang's;
Her radiance is chatoyant
She melt's mine thought's, with her dusk black and wet bang's.
ii.
Her bungalow is mine own
Bucolic and historically hidden;
We're passionate in ourn dwelling
The walls brushed with ourn amour', tucked between ceiling's.
iii.
Memorabilia she keepeth
Of her childhood in a small room;
I stareth at her adolescent memory photo's
Thinking God made her on the moon.
iv.
Feeling how blessed I am
With mine Jane, neath her plume's;
Her wing's stretch out, north to south
A defense from demon crew's.
v.
A exemplar to the Almighty architect
The embodiment to all mine livelihood;
She's the road to peace, from west to east
On mine knee's I looketh to her, I kisseth her feet.
For she's mine queen...........
©Brandon nagley
©lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 6:20 PM UTC
Her veins have deteriorated
Narrowed and not ameliorated
With every pungent pulsating pump
Her quality of life she does expunge
To a beating that is crepuscular
And will gain no life from any stabilizer
It is bleeding desultory diaphanous crimson
Demoted by her own visceral volition
Until one day it ceases
As the walls to her capillaries deceases
Until a cardiologist by a different name
Imposes on her grotesque game
To replace these decrepit pathways
That does mellifluous passion decay
Until these capillaries are replaced
Through the bypass of an ethereal nature embraced
To heal such a slaughtered souls defeats
Until a her hearts ephemeral beats
Coalesce with the tranquil thundering
Of her shamans pulse
that dominates over her demons plundering.
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 1:14 AM UTC
carry on from the beginning
we are the alive poets society
words said by another
all we believe in is each other
secretive language all our own
passionate words among loving tales
writing words, raptureously flowing
others left completely unknowing
O captain, my captain
guide us in the ways of words
careful now, do not reveal
for they are our only seal
the only initiation
is contributing a verse
in a poem called living
or this play unforgiving
our pens speak like our tongues
writing what we wish we could say
undercover we stay, quietly
we are the alive poets society
carpe diem
May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 5:26 PM UTC
artifice, oh artifice of deception
miraculously ameliorated
by a strategy masquerading as a reality
or a reality masquerading as a strategy
leads to unresolved questions
of the perplexities that tug
at the heart of many truths
laying bear the spontaneous rhythms
of a mind in motion with
an unprecedented intensity
of a struggle to articulate
perceptions of a shattered understanding
of absurdities proclaimed as violations
of moral obligation
for morality is nothing more than opinion
that has a treasonous alliance with itself
giving birth to illegitimate validations of stupidity
Nov 17, 2012
Nov 17, 2012 at 1:57 PM UTC
A canorous music perforates my opaque
Quivering chromaticism smears me
With osculance and solidarity
I solicit solitude
And altogether, I'll be accompanied
By my only one ally
We, anon, will rally loneliness
Imbibing a cup of chocolate
With zest and dally
Oh!... An ameliorated hallucination
Do not! I beseech! decimate
My incipient, redintegrating mate ---
I cannot delineate now any line of this smooth... lie!
Oh... What love dove above!
Blinked delving and desperarion
Scintillated once whilst falling apart on my face!
With a liquor of ink... and... tears
Penetrated any level of my flesh and sunk into my sole soul
Letting a chrysalis breed into a labyrinthine verisimilitude
Lulled by loop and fetching,
Fetching equanimity
I'm sorry... I cannot any more equilibrize anything
This is my alibi desuetude
I hope desynchronised is not my goodbye!
Jul 3, 2017
Jul 3, 2017 at 2:56 PM UTC
Spring has come once again.
The dawn breaks, caressing the Earth.
The aged wonderer marks his course,
Setting out for another journey.
Walking for many days and scores of miles,
The wonderer finds a shady tree calling his name.
Sliding his haversack off his shoulder
He rests his tired back against the tree.
As his eyes begin to close,
His mind begins to roam a world of dreams
Concealed to him before now.
Many days of peaceful slumber pass.
The wonderer at last awakens
Ameliorated for the first time,
Since he was merely a young lad.
Despite his urge to stay,
He knows he must depart,
For the uncharted road awaits him.
Just before leaving,
The wanderer bows to the tree
Thanking it for everything it has given him,
Hoping, maybe someday his journeys
Will lead him back to the Celestial tree.
Apr 29, 2013
Apr 29, 2013 at 4:51 PM UTC
An expanse of characters unknown to me is all I can percieve.
There is no prompt dictating my choices, and therefore none shall be made.
The day and night have become one, and heaven and hells interests coincide.
Tangled forests, icy tundras, calm plains, and inexplicably dark areas exist sporadically everywhere.
Indifference fueled by emotion makes for a strange perception.
There is no certainty that I can discern from the tangled mess I see.
The characters shift and change color into an amalgamation that almost appears solid.
You can see figures shamble in the distance who constantly dissemble their motives with a facade of good intent.
As choices shall not be made I let them pass me by, but without my unease being assuaged by their lack of presence.
As they pass I look again to the characters that make up the empty space on the ground.
The nearly solidified characters become words: creativity, speech, calculating, organizing, and creating.
The words fluctuate in location, and start to become paths to the different places I can see.
They appear fractured by incomprehensible darkness, but the path can still be tread carefully.
Is sitting in silence what I should continue to do, or must I choose to abandon the indifference where I took shelter?
Must I tread a path that is broken in my own mind simply to achieve more uncertainty?
I will end up on a path someday, but what word the path is given is the last question.
Will my unease at these figures be ameliorated when I take the path they refuse to tread, or must I follow them through the straight line they walk?
The word is stretched too far for me to understand, but I question it's competence due to it never breaking.
I'll move any day now from this perch of indifference to where I can read more words.
Though some words may cause me to feel pain and others regret, I understand the consequence.
I can't stay as I am though because there is no reason to sit when there are choices to be made.
This world must be explored, and I must know what the characters mean.
I want to know what will make the world that I can see change into a world I can understand.
Even if it means repairing the words that I covered in darkness.
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 11:50 PM UTC
A canorous music perforates my opaque,
It is gods, talking...
Rain's drops are their pillars of the temple.
Echo of gossip...
Quivering chromaticism smearing me,
With osculates and solidarity,
Eventually...
Kissing a cross 'round my knuckle,
I start...
I solicit solitude...
Away from this deluge of unknown.
This echo of bursting sparks, dreams...
Will I altogether, be accompanied
By my only one ally?
We anon, god(?) I hope(!), will rally loneliness,
Imbibing a cup of chocolate
And zest and dally.
This sweet's like gold.
But... One for all, all for one...
Ostracizing my faith...
Oh!... An ameliorated hallucination.
The cross fell.
Do not! I beseech! decimate
My incipient, redintegrating mate ---
I cannot delineate now any line of this smooth... lie!...
Gods still howling
But I am still walking
The echo melts through.
Oh... What love dove above!
Blinked delving and desperarion...
Scintillated once whilst falling apart on my face!
The rain of dead, the rain of shadows.
With a liquor of ink... and... tears
Melting my ego, my flesh
Sunk in my sole soul
I yield and fall
Letting a chrysalis breed into a labyrinthine verisimilitude
Of lies,
Lies,
Yes.... Of lies!
Lulled by loop and fetching,
I cannot resume, I kneel more and bow,
Tie my cross again 'round my knuckle
Till I dust to golden grain.
And hover
Fetching equanimity... No eyes will ever again bloom hope.
I'm sorry... I cannot any more equilibrize anything.
This is my alibi desuetude
'Cause I'm thirsty for luxury.
Stopped ended lines, squeezing and hugging ink.
I hope desynchronised is not my goodbye.
Aug 3, 2017
Aug 3, 2017 at 7:30 AM UTC
Rainbows for chasing,
the moon for the aiming,
forming in clouds, faces
for inspiration,
beckoning, is life ahead
full of credible opportunity,
beside empty promises creating,
truthful reality.
Standing tall, girding *****
I, reached for the unreachable
so - distantly close, impulsive forward, surges.
without doubt,
or plan,
missing by the - conceivably smallest,
actually - furthest amount,
yet still moving through,
pushing the immovable, climbing
the inaccessible,
falling - frequently,
never reaching nethermost depth,
buoyed by a recognition,
realising - all this fighting - striving
failing - miserably,
doing it all - wrong,
was not failure, but a justified lesson
on coping in the mire of existence.
The rainbows beauty explained in science,
gives it simplicity. A reality water and sunlight,
nothing really to chase,
or catch.
Moon - oh moon - my most favourite, still my dreamstone,
is but a stark beautiful presence,
removing sunlight reveals a satellite bleak,
nothing is here to seek,
or take aim,
likewise our cloud perceived faces,
expectations are best - unexpected.
If controlled by endeavour and aquasition
disappointment may be somewhat - repositioned,
attainment of skills formerly devoid of utilisation
revived, re-given to make something, that in truth,
can be ameliorated.
if only to yours truly
.
Still Chasing Rainbows . Michael C Crowder 10th March 2019 @scorsby
Mar 13, 2019
Mar 13, 2019 at 10:43 AM UTC
Kiss of Pain
She whispered in my ear
Feel every kiss of pain I give
Be more and more near
Seek fragrance of love to live
I took her delicious breath
And collected precious pearls
And to know the depth
From her glowing red cheeks
Then There was nothing
But a communion soul to soul
A love ameliorated string
Just as the ultimate sweet goal
Colonel Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright june 2021 love Remains
Jun 30, 2021
Jun 30, 2021 at 5:39 AM UTC
“It can be a very spontaneous state,
In restraining the inner spirit of angst,
A plethora of pain held within,
Parallels of a withering acumen,
Once in a wonderful sense of serenity,
Or was it a birth of total disavowal,
One cannot feel the venture aforesaid,
Comeuppance breath within my soul,
Need I succumb to such relentlessness?
As the inner souls foment impertinently,
Shall I reconcile to the assuage afore me,
As my soul unleashes it’s invigorating remedial,
As my spiritual guidance formulates camaraderie,
Now proficient anodyne of once a dreaded angst,
Shall I now attain that of a once absent love?
Whether this shall be for naught it is affirmed,
A reticence of my spiritual soul has been ameliorated”
By Andrew Guzaldo © 11/26/2019 #174
Dec 5, 2019
Dec 5, 2019 at 4:54 PM UTC
Beauty is the shadow of love and an image too
Love is ameliorated and celebrated in love's lap
As rose petals play and dangle with drop of dew
With lot of love, beauty of petals go to en-wrap
Affection of heart capture the moment with style
Eyes go dazed in strangeness to wild being mild
Time stands still , remains in its trance to beguile
Lover doesn't bother even if continuously reviled
Lover and beloved being in love chain to capture
All charms ,graces to make clear the line of action
The straightened path leads not less but to altar
This is how love goes to extreme to get perfection
Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
Sep 10, 2016
Sep 10, 2016 at 1:39 PM UTC