"assailing" poems
It seemed the space between us became torn and
Profoundly distanced....................
Jamming bony knuckles and spread eagled fingers,
Lying their mapped out journey.....direction on point patrol....
Adorned by silver decoration, delighting in their skinned habitat
Shafted, deceit punching the recipient of the poison digits
Prodding and pushing their intent....dare you contradict
The intended carved out dose of punishment, Risk and
Safety......not yours and never would be; stooped
Down under the assailing bony palmed attachements
That delivered penetrating power, cupped around
Your arm til it became discoloured, pressure points
Backed you into a corner, up against the grain of the
Brick wall, cold and damp, the odour reaching
And scolding your nostrils with its stale internal vows
Refuse, stretching and protruding its foul remnents
An earlier life, when you were not under threat fades
Your very existance in jeopardy, your eyes pleaded for
Normality, willing someone to hear your silence, grip you
Tightly, not with malice, but with bravery and valour
Right now you need that shining knight, that white
Horse galloping down the blind alleyway, yet you
Know that won't happen for you're already sinking
To the floor, the blow comes sharp and stings, warmth
Exudes and trickles a path downwards, leaving your
Body, finding the cold concrete beneath you, travelling
Outwards................
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 7:58 AM UTC
She held her project aloft,
so assured of her supremacy
that she would challenge
God himself
were he an 8th grader.
Eyes averted,
I slyly slid my box
beneath the table-
absconding with my dignity
to aid in assailing some distant windmill...
Sep 25, 2012
Sep 25, 2012 at 12:02 AM UTC
If my world's a bakery
in an endlessly large country
you descend upon my city
we pass at the stale loaves
eyelashes flutter, aghast
like I'm an insect assailing your glasses
I watch you smile or grimace
Run your tongue, checking for guilt stuck in your teeth
"Oh! Hhey!!"
Your voice surprises us both
it is the same timbre in which I render
words more decadent than your courage
to spit at my living person
when it stands all but 5'6 and breathing in front of you
washing up bottle messaged on the beaches of my awareness
***** jezebel, ******
-her-
See, I've been receiving your cookies
in brown paper parcels
Little birds didn't want me to miss out on the flavor
I see you, small creature
how quickly you frost your hate
with buttercream icing, your loathing is cake
you devour and feed to anyone who'll taste
You have laid your field fallow
and let me assume disgrace
I want to tell you you're wrong
I want to push you with my mind
I want to throw sprinkles at you
I see you, small creature
with scrunched up fists
and I taste your poison
like grand marnier
it spoils everything
The recipe was followed rule for rule
The souffle rose
***** though you may
I'd almost rather hug you
if it would squeeze out your wretchedness
a flouncing whirl cupcake summit
so we could be tin-pan square
and may our pastry never mix again.
Apr 15, 2012
Apr 15, 2012 at 5:19 PM UTC
the hearts of men are cold and violent
so we turn to the hearts of women
their perfume assailing our nose
soft heartbeat like a choir of birds
no other woman can love me like you do
you nurse me when I'm sick
you love me when i'm losing
you never hate me
you helped me turn a corner
writing a new chapter
book number three
you'll always love me
you praise me when i'm calm
you stand in my way when i'm going crazy
i fall deeper in love
no regret for tearing my heart out
you give me no reason to hate
smile from ear to ear
gaining sanity i never had
i worship you like a goddess
the tears come freely
relief like no other
my heart was cold
making me blind
a heavy fog lifting
vision repaired
i see the world happy and smiling
welcoming the first sunrise
i love you with all my heart
never will i allow you to leave
marriage i ask
till death of our death shall we part
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 10:38 AM UTC
Cooking in silence
on the stove-top
of my tiny kitchen.
Mixing broccoli and leeks.
I can feel the heat
from her eyes
swollen with rage.
Ocularly assailing
My words have drowned
in an ocean of
youthful trauma.
Her heart lost in dissension
Jul 10, 2019
Jul 10, 2019 at 5:29 PM UTC
Leafless branch
Desiccated trunk
Withered carcass
But, the root
Yet, beneath the soil
Disseminating
The fruit ripens
On the leafless branch
Harassed by assailing winds
Hence the scent, if, the roots last
4/21/13
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 6:18 PM UTC
from over here
i'm not sure what to say
can you read me?
can you read me now?
shall i embark on a quest of cliches?
shall i compare thee to a summer's lay....
nay
thou art a trove more evanescent
it isn't a lesson i contain
or a fountain to pertain
my rhyming speech is but a way to sway my fears away
--avoidance and presumptuous credence--
for another fake, fake, fake assailing parallel of waning candlelight i've never blinked at in inebriated chores
(the pride is seamless in the play of work)
embarrassed trifles witnessed here, and here, too.
i cannot see far or near. the session isn't claimed by fear, only dear, dear, yearning
Oct 18, 2012
Oct 18, 2012 at 7:22 PM UTC
evening alights, finding love
assailing poetry's tongue;
kissing parchment's fragility
fluent in dark of night, resonating
deep within her heart
and...
curlicues of light stream in
facets; shone upon her soul
as whispers beckon in song;
twining body and mind in things
unforgotten, eyes bedazzled
in poetic grace
fore...
love prevails in the wisp of
time; leaving heart to vibrate,
as he articulates to an open
heart, breathing her space;
tracing the poetic beauty of
her face
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 2:36 PM UTC
It starts with a puddle or a pool
turns to a rivulet,
rainwater comes, fills.......then, over
time.....it becomes a true river...
we human beings are conceived,
nurtured inside the womb.....to develop
til it's time to be born...to this earth
we grow up.....we mature,
school...experiences, make us wiser
and, as we get older
.our own waters run deeper
we....are like the river...
our actions, reactions and decisions,
all depend on the tides of life...
our moods are waves...playful on a fine day,
they lap, roll...sometimes, crash on the shore.
calm now...later, high with turbulence,
on stormy days, assailing...belligerent,
courageously moving forward.....then back,
like retreating groups of warriors,
weary....defeat-stricken.......yet, all set,
to roll back to shore.......again...
our grounds, our cores, are embedded
with grains of Patience...it has a voice
in many ways, we become one with nature
we...are like the river...
Sally
Copyright February 26, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Feb 27, 2017
Feb 27, 2017 at 11:42 PM UTC
[this is a poem of past loves lost to time
and space but never to be forgotten the
hurt remains allways]
"LOST TO LOVE"
The days they will tumble
your heart will crumble
desolation will follow
insides feel hollow.
A love i have lost
at a great cost.
My mouth becomes
dry as i sit and ponder
why?
My feet are like lead
they say it's all in my head.
Let them be me and see how it
feels.
i sit for hours as thoughts unpeel
ghosts of the past now assailing me.
I feel so insecure as tears roll down
my cheek.
Sounds feed in and out, as i stare at
a wall i thought i heard your voice
"i love you"it called", alas it was only
an echo from a telephone call.
They say time is a healer and all will be
well..
believe me this is just a rumour, a lost
soft sell.
My heart holds a space, empty in size it was
once filled with love lost to life.
Copyright © ken newman
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 6:04 AM UTC
(an almost lipogram)
It is missing!
Just as a lost paramour
or a forlorn suitor of a now hollow past,
causing a lack of all glamour.
My lass’s familiar touch hiding
astray in murky clouds of a dulling rainbow,
my writing turns to a wan pallid world
as I scour my mind to supplant this loss.
Assailing yon dragon with quill in hand
I spurn my awaiting angst,
stalking as Orion’s own conspirator
disavowing all doubts of my own ability.
Sallying forth I do not tarry.
Words assault a wall of lofty doubts
born of naught but a foolish phobia.
Scaling mighty ramparts,
my anima’s flight attacks a radiant moon.
Until, with a final onslaught
my thoughts find laconic catharsis.
As twilight’s shroud is found approaching,
with a concluding flourish of a now
worn writing tool,
my lost lass of misty pasts...
returns.
© S.Loeding
All Rights Reserved
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 5:25 PM UTC
It's hard not to get angry
At the cricket in the closet
During repeated ratatats
Of the rain on the roof.
Relying on the radiator
Ramboing the reluctance
Resident in the rafters.
Warm winter wishes
For a will of the wisp winter
Waken to wisdom
Rather than rash reminiscence
And rootless resentment.
Bountiful blankets build
A buffer and bulwark
Against my acrimonious
Admonitions assailing
The ghastly gods of nature,
That get together and muster
A team of terrifying titans
That have twisted spring
Into a frozen thing
To, like last year, once again
Punish the thin-skinned.
I won’t leave my toes out,
My piggy toes or my snout
Where a breeze can tease
Or threaten to freeze
From nails to knees.
Oh, please. This one night
Do it right, heed my plight;
Some unspoken vow to keep,
To let a chilly soul sleep
Else I shall weep
In a winter this deep.
Jan 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017 at 6:05 AM UTC
I offer no defense of my hidden sin,
Not when it wastes a fragment of eternity
In frivolous expenditure, stretched so thin
Across another vast, sprawling century.
And if I would - if I were - where to begin
This tour of a macabre private gallery?
All things, even this one, have their beginnings:
Thus, my humble collection's underpinnings.
Called to this divine vocation, I set out
Each time I encountered one who, crafting art,
Demanded my attentions. Please: never doubt
The truth of my intentions; my swelling heart
Adores them, falls in love as they sing or spout
Their lifeblood inspiration. Stepping apart
From all of this, don't stare so miserably!
Can I be blamed for working literally?
I love them, one and all, and here I curate -
Safe from all the ravagings of time, if not
Precisely speaking safe from my own mandate -
The workings and workers who inspired such thought,
Such incisive action. I lay them in state
With tender care, never sold and never bought.
Perhaps a glance at my favorite pieces
Might reassure you? My latest releases?
Observe the cuts into copper, engraving
Her fury, her passion into the cold plates!
How torturous, yes? She recalled it, raving,
Having sought me out to deny the ingrates
Assailing her solitude, as a craving.
I preserved her passion. Here, her works’ mates:
The roses she treasured etched into the hard bone
Of her shoulder-blades and skull, instead of stone.
But so few beloveds grace my humble home
Despite my voracious eye surveying scores
Of likely lovers - artful, otherwise - some
Lacking, left uninvited. Those I adore,
I long to beckon close - close as you now come.
Join me? There's more to show you, so much more,
And I hope you'll linger tonight, to dine.
I've just the thing for an artist who loves wine…
Mar 25, 2018
Mar 25, 2018 at 8:02 AM UTC
Absent Motility Against Staid Inertia
impossible to describe listlessness
bedeviling this body electric aye attest
motivation to counter glumness
seizes motility temporarily
to stave off staid purposeless at best,
yet aware poetic obfuscation chest
barely delineates fierce hopelessness
assailing me,
when'r awake and/or at everest
feeding melancholy feedback loop
sparring against faintest
momentum - writhing psyche,
asper an unwelcome guest
emotional friction
bringing motionlessness,
where lunging futility
summoning ability
to muster joie de vivre
defeated willpower
no matter mental health
propped up
with pharmacological medications
prescribed by Doctor George Adams be hest,
yet tis NOT suicide, but general malaise
as if poison (or stung by a scorpion) jest
permeates thy being
sparking existential angst
hoop fully communicating figurative soffits
facilitating emotional bulwark lest
ye **** sitter
this lix spittled chap messed
up in the head, but also that empty nest
syndrome - aa bird den, and nefarious pest
disallowing merrily rowing my boat
subjected to turbulence that doth wrinkle
space/time continuum quest
punctuating any attempt
to take fig yurt heave Newtonian rest
without being assailed
of drab quotidian predictability
re: envious papa
towards daughters adventurous lives
he rejoices (albeit vicariously)
respective lives where offspring lasso lassitude,
viz both their electric kool aid acid test
how fate didst in vest
waning wily woebegone zest!
Jun 8, 2018
Jun 8, 2018 at 12:52 PM UTC
stillness
is
translucent red,
if you were wondering
it's the see-through red
of your eyelids against
the sun
invading your
sight
when you would rather
see the darkness
than what is in front of you
it's the see-through red
of the unfinished skin on
the son
assailing your
sight
when you would rather
see the movement
of who is in front of you
Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 10:18 PM UTC
Why must you constantly torment my brain?
Peace, please.
If you must, might I have some refrain?
Restrain yourself and allow me a moment
Without the thoughts of you
Assailing my brain.
Do you even know what love is?
For you use that blade well,
twisting and driving,
pulling and wrenching,
and softly lulling me to sleep.
Or am I mistaken,
And sleep is to be the death of me?
The beautiful respite I so desire,
It won't be found in sleep.
I recently discovered that fact.
Why else am I driven to these ends, at 3 in the morning?
Death. Death.
Death.
You don't seem so friendly,
And as a cruel twist of fate
- For those hopeless enough to choose your cold embrace -
I foresee the attack on your soul,
Worsening to the point you rise again.
Sep 3, 2010
Sep 3, 2010 at 9:49 PM UTC
Down the hillsides we stroll.
It's so very cold.
Ice bites the fingers.
The heart that's ablaze.
A hawk projects her image 'pon the skyline a glow.
Look at the sky sending pictures of snow.
Not snowing yet, we must not forget.
Snow's on her way by the end of the day.
Home we must away.
To sit by the fire, ablaze in the hearth.
Before the blizzard of cruelty assaults mother earth.
Supplies we have many.
They're stashed in the larder.
We purchased of plenty afore the weather became harder.
Standing on the peak at the top of the world, be a stag full of antlers.
They are weighing him down.
Tis only mine to wonder, where he doth go,
To stay safe and warm from the assailing snow.
Sanctuary now for me and thee.
Inside our refuge.
Where the evils of winter have visible charm.
Inside all cosy protected from harm.
(C) LIVVI
Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 4:41 AM UTC
With beauty of divinest shine,
Lucy's truth beams from her Heart to mine,
Her lucid light of love goes apace,
Touching, kissing hollow face,
Giving guidance to the blind,
With Love, activity refined,
Most exquisite and fair of the apostles,
Inspiring heart to righteous war and battle,
O sweet defender of the faith,
In thine flight my spirit bathes,
A warrior to righteousness aligned,
Bringing God's knowledge to hungry mind,
Assailing tyrants wanton whim,
Condemened to fate cruel and grim,
Yet you live fated to sing,
For eternity, on aspiring wing.
May 12, 2017
May 12, 2017 at 3:29 PM UTC
The steppe beguiled,
Unfriended by innocence,
Renders powerless the Seraphims,
Within the inner citadel.
The primordial whims,
Engulfs the spirit,
Impulses with unshaken strength,
Charges in, in coaxion.
Plain hues of tinted shades,
Delights the spirit,
Yielding unto the colourful disharmony,
Assailing its walls.
Berefted dignity,
Misses its way,
To converge with shame,
The eden pigmentation.
#El_Magnifico™
Jun 30, 2017
Jun 30, 2017 at 6:27 PM UTC
Too much static on the phone,
Slurred words like an electronic
Intoxication
That only the creatures of the night could translate,
I wait for you to finish,
To quit pouring out your heart
For no real reason.
Why are there tears?
Why are there tantrums?
I find myself throwing back the blades,
Words so sharp
It's like I am there plunging them
Into you myself.
I shake,
I quiver,
The stream of assailing aggression
Drowning the mouthpiece
Until I am sure it'll burst into flames
And shatter into oblivion.
Jan 28, 2016
Jan 28, 2016 at 2:25 AM UTC
That time I stepped out
And felt a pull deep inside
As ancients drew my breath,
Asked not to neglect their presence
These ghosts of ages past
These ancestral spirits I knew before my birth
A past
Past
All memories
Muscle snd bone memories
Formed but not informed
A peculiar déjà vu.
Were these to be my late counsel?
Guiding me, cleansing me
As I traversed this new path?
I know them awhile
Assailing me for dismissing them then.
I shout to them as winter approaches.
That I wasn’t ready…
It took all my strength
To lift my arm
And wave goodbye.
Sep 28, 2020
Sep 28, 2020 at 4:01 PM UTC
(alter knit lee titled: vita in oculis nudato)
goo goo gaga I wanna yell
cuz, synonymous
with other wordsmiths,
or...well
whatever will eire'n burr,
a sought after creative
passionate pursuit aye tell
ye a boot me own aha...eureka insightful
revelation explaining
ma quotidian writing spell,
and phalanges skitter
across qwerty keyboard
at light in an attempt to quell
onslaught tidal wave crashing
upon me conscious state pell mell
which tsunami flood spongy
heady gray matter with hell
over high tide heals assailing,
bruiting, clobbering this fell
low inducing (me) to play
Handel's Semantic Water Music
on the smallish piccolo cello
which Sirens of Tighten,
(who just appeared out of thin aire -
cuz scriveners can resort
to prestidigitation to make appear
any necessary entity
without rhyme or reason),
anyway, this sylph sea Oceanids nymph
i.e. mermaids didst dee clear
particularly via
barely audible verbal communication
sotto voce en dear
ring gently beckoning
affinity this modest heir
to secret himself within secluded lair
whence, an automatic
erectile flickr, kickstarted,
levitated, and manifested
an instantaneous jubilant kik
lobbed me near
this seductive, sedulous, and sedum
scented sir experienced hypnotic stare
charming froto into trance scandent state
as if by magic the tubular
testicular proboscis didst inflate
aptly serving as modus operandi flagellate
thus proving a "happy ending" against being celibate.
Mar 25, 2018
Mar 25, 2018 at 8:04 PM UTC
Your body crashes into mine like a wave assailing the beach
A Torrential passion pounding the surf
ferociously increasing in rythym
pounding drums beating ever faster
An unbridled intensity exploding in heartbeats
erupting into complete uncertainty
Sanity being swept away in the retreating rush
grains of sand like moments in time
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 8:42 AM UTC
Mankind and unkind.
Recklessly, extravagantly consuming,
The Profligates of humanity.
While totally restrained by convention- no morality.
The irony of a welcome mat and white picket fence,
Oxymoron for morons- this picture of us, the U.S. in it's totality.
Confined and maligned.
Assailing with contemptuous language; presuming.
Us Libertines of the world.
Expecting all to bend or be broken for our liberties.
We think they think that we are refined.
The world shuns us and our first world state of mind.
brutality to lethality,
duality to finality,
formality to legality,
mentality to normality,
municipality versus reality,
This is the land of the free.
Right?
Aug 17, 2016
Aug 17, 2016 at 5:47 PM UTC
*** by *** my elbows fold into myself, peering through my small intestine until they articulate the undulating passage of my ileum.
My knees crumple, embedding themselves absolutely into my chest until they flatten my heart against the walls of its own cavity as it beats faster and faster into the shrinking labyrinth of capillaries, distorted by the pressing loss of space.
My mouth is filled with the gentle tang of warm spinal fluid as sinew and muscle catch in my teeth.
Indiscriminate limbs clamor out of the carnivorous spit of stomach acid into the empty spaces left by my long deserted lungs; until all of myself is cowering behind the stoic battalion of my ribs, unrelentingly upholding an assemblence of structures against the assailing inward pull of joints and fear.
Soon they crack, and the sudden consolidation of mass breaks a hole in the floor and the parasitic being of self spills through ceiling and insulation to rest in the basement.
Nov 2, 2017
Nov 2, 2017 at 9:38 PM UTC