"assuaged" poems
Solvent and solution
Kept assuaged for so long
Treading in the selfishness of my subconscious state
Of barely traceable memories, spurred on by the gravity of time spent
At the briefest hint at past involvement
Each leaf falls, eventually.
Every pristine little well formed tended to.
Each nurtured, cared for, parcel or idea.
I can watch them for hours
Watching them fall, one by one, for hours.
When days start to bleed together, out of the corner of my eye,
I can always see them, marking progression.
Collecting in drifts, then, taken by the wind, then
The rot sets in.
I used to watch this.
I used to find time.
The roof cast me in its shadow, even standing along the banister that runs along the length
Even as the final rays of sun start to vanish one at a time
Apr 3, 2018
Apr 3, 2018 at 2:34 PM UTC
Table for one sir, a book my companion for a one-sided conversation
Restaurant conversations buzz around me with intimacies and angst
Pre-movie girlfriends split the bill for a bowl of gelato delightful chat
Spooning in the Italian atmosphere for the price of a McDonalds.
The repro man on my right boasts of dietary prowess to his fat date
On the rack for his gluttony assuaged by the second rack of lamb
Talking at each other I can feel the anguish of ugly gay loneliness
Italian waiters providing comfort in the form of tiramisu temptations.
Life the entertainment on Saturday night alone with ten pages read
A drink talking boy will sleep alone without his now cold girlfriend
Broadcasting life's loves and lies, everyone hears and nobody listens
The opera of living more tragic than Tosca and as brutal as Butterfly.
Rain soaked spirits sink on a trudge home to a lonely king-sized bed
Goodnight loved one Skyped intimacies a warming blanket of comfort
Sleep sweet dreams before the limousine blacked streets of tomorrow
Nearer to honey sweet kisses and close in my love’s warm bed “hello”.
Jan 21, 2012
Jan 21, 2012 at 11:26 AM UTC
Gathered pieces of a great puzzle ;
refreshed perspective like ocean riptides
foment at the confluence collecting dark rivers’ flow
Repurposing back-eddies ,
rejuvenation of stagnant brackish waters ,
inherent buried soul-shine purging
from the ancient core of earth mother
Light arising from the hidden depths
of inner stillness as if a refilling wellspring
burst forth , reawakening muted sighs unspoken
Forming poetic constellations of black and bright
to lighten afar the nebulous darkness ,
a sea of swirling ink transformed into poetry
A sage opus renewed
by the muse of a migrating flock ,
striving to discover new sacred grounds ;
yet there is an undeniable song sung
in the howling winds of change
An incitement from a higher dialect
that empowers a restoration of spirit
Oeuvre uplifted by rogue waves
of summoning winds ,
arousing that which time erases
A manifest renaissance
among the rousing nuances
of poetic continuum ,
judicious to rediscover
the enthralling vastitude
of every breaking wave
in a boundless sea of poesy
Where prevailing currents
stir oceans of verse eternal ;
provoking a verve revival ,
the magnitude of an unbroken circle ,
ocean swells merging singularity
with the omnipresent colour
of uncharted depths
As if thoughts are assuaged
by a union of intimately touching souls
with words of intangible spheres ,
sparking subtle shades of meaning
spanning poetic immortality
Transcending barriers of unexplored lexicon
to manifest the immensity,
enkindling rhapsody of hearts and minds
Deeply rooted soul replenishment
harvested from the tree of humankind ,
willingly sharing without regret nor intention ,
with deference to the soul of one-blood,
one-love enabling an enlightening
metamorphosis of the human journey ...
© harlon rivers ... all rights reserved
Jan 20, 2017
Jan 20, 2017 at 11:48 AM UTC
Bring to me a strong ***
By which my soul's sorrow will be forgot:
Filled with an ****** divine
So that Woman may be driven from my mind.
For I no longer want
This stream inspiring a heartly haunt,
That once flows will not stop
'Til my heart's blood drains to its last drop,
And so drained, then breaks.
Leaves me with an art held for its own sake.
So bring me forth this draught,
Deepest as ever one from Lethe quaffed.
From my broken heart charm
This fair Image of the earth's Fairest Form
That ever my heart has held,
That ever my reveling heart has swelled.
Alas, seems never shall be
My mind's eye, my heart, my soul ever free
Of this tort'rous torment.
Left with naught to do, only lament.
Away I cannot chase
The mind numbing beauty of her face.
'Tis all in vain it seems
For such a draught appears only in my dreams.
My sight did so invest,
Bringing damning pain abreast.
No longer can delight
Be brought forth from sights seen in any light.
Had she only known how
My heart, once free, only beat for her now
And with but a smile
Assuaged that murd'rous pain but for a while
I would then know relief,
That most bittersweet pain, the "joy of grief."
Jan 28, 2013
Jan 28, 2013 at 11:17 PM UTC
in this
pocketful
of limbo
the distance rises
in curls of smoke
a prairie fire
siphoning into
crisp edge
of forest
Inside my
uncloaked ventricle
primeval forces
turn my blood into
dusted gold
as they pump
sacred texts
into my oxygen
They roll your quintessence
upon my fingers,
playing inside
my psyche's
wild ache
a spread of orifice
in spellbound mantra,
as I spit out
the
hairy thorns,
a holy purge of
internal
engravings
Somehow ---
like a miracle,
I grow ripe seedlings
from deep within
my womb
as I trip into
a universe rising
I take wisps
of your grace
as it brushes
the jut of my
astral collarbone
You are always
grounding me
like this,
my tongue
tripping
over velvet
stance of warrior
assuaged into silk
Without you,
I might be
whisked off into
the periphery
of chaos
but instead
I am simply
tied to
the urgency
of the little novas
about to
explode
While I wait
I tend to
the wildfires.
to make sure they
are still burning
I keep my honey
wet and fresh
upon your
lips,
let my pores
drip moonpools
into your glistening
wet of mouth
and only when
it is time
I let the whole of
me burst
into the
fire -wrapped
tips of
stars
Oct 21, 2017
Oct 21, 2017 at 12:56 AM UTC
I cannot escape you
your voices haunt me
in the quiet of summer mornings
when I expect only the sound
of gentle breezes through my ash, my oak
when I would, if I could, close my eyes
and enter the world, of forgetting
your dirges call forth
the delirious dances of the dead
those slain in the summer fields, of my youth
without your mourning song
to honor their passing
without the praying processions,
the grandiloquent eulogies,
they had
only the sizzling silence
after the staccato storm
of our rapid rifle fire
until now, when I thought
my guilt was assuaged
until I listened, and
heard your doleful cries
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 1:19 PM UTC
O Venus, beauty of the skies,
To whom a thousand temples rise,
Gaily false in gentle smiles,
Full of love-perplexing wiles;
O goddess, from my heart remove
The wasting cares and pains of love.
If ever thou hast kindly heard
A song in soft distress preferred,
Propitious to my tuneful vow,
A gentle goddess, hear me now.
Descend, thou bright immortal guest,
In all thy radiant charms confessed.
Thou once didst leave almighty Jove
And all the golden roofs above:
The car thy wanton sparrows drew,
Hovering in air they lightly flew;
As to my bower they winged their way
I saw their quivering pinions play.
The birds dismissed (while you remain)
Bore back their empty car again:
Then you, with looks divinely mild,
In every heavenly feature smiled,
And asked what new complaints I made,
And why I called you to my aid?
What frenzy in my ***** raged,
And by what cure to be assuaged?
What gentle youth I would allure,
Whom in my artful toils secure?
Who does thy tender heart subdue,
Tell me, my Sappho, tell me who?
Though now he shuns thy longing arms,
He soon shall court thy slighted charms;
Though now thy offerings he despise,
He soon to thee shall sacrifice;
Though now he freezes, he soon shall burn,
And be thy victim in his turn.
Celestial visitant, once more
Thy needful presence I implore.
In pity come, and ease my grief,
Bring my distempered soul relief,
Favour thy suppliant's hidden fires,
And give me all my heart desires.
2.7k
the words that once flowed off my tongue have all been dried,
leaving nothing but a cracked and barren wasteland,
desert termites squeeze themselves into places they’re not wanted,
the phantom figure of what was once alive cries for water in a broken voice that will never be heard,
even by the most intent of listeners.
the fruits of my labor are met with mud on my clothes and spit in my face.
at the night’s fall i bask in the eternal cold,
the air i abuse is extracted from my lungs with sleight of hand
and an unnervingly charming smile,
a cherry tree beckons me forward as it waves in the midnight wind,
the crickets fall silent and i am momentarily assuaged,
bathed in the yellow light of the moon.
time ebbs and time flows, bringing with her the judge, jury, and executioner.
like Saint Bartholomew, i am strewn up to be flayed,
from my pocket falls a needle and thread, a note from someone long ago left behind,
and a rotting apple core.
they belong to the Earth now,
and soon so will my precariously perched form,
my very essence pooling around the tree and staining the leaves pink.
at my decaying touch, maggots spawn.
as if trained, they surround my body,
a cocoon in which i metamorphosize into who i’ve always been.
in my chest, the vultures will nest,
feeling safer than i ever could have,
nothing left of the girl who once wove tales of grandeur and painted paradises in her mind,
but a torn canvas and an empty shell waiting for its puppeteer.
Feb 3, 2019
Feb 3, 2019 at 11:10 PM UTC
the isle meets us gruffly,
ferry over rough seas, meaner winds,
bay size puddling lakes
a/k/a local flooding,
roads littered with tree debris,
all saying an uncoded message:
"see humans, you come to stay only with my forbearance"
But I know that familiar voice, disguised as nature,
a first derivative of the alpha of that god who comes,
torturing me with requests for forgiveness
I am nature too, I am human nature,
and I too,
am not in a forgiving mood, and one-word reply:
Barcelona
ashamed,
the ugly skies ease off and
next morn,
an August beauty provided
but I am neither assuaged, bought off, forgetting,
address the hiding-in-disguise master of the universe:
"*you trifle with us as if we could not count, keep tabs,
and weary be at the newest sabbath carnage never ending
give me storms, keep your glories,
fell trees, drown us, if it pleases,
we are neither perfect nor innocent
but take impotent responsibility
set us not one against the other,
there, here, Charlottesville,
keep your false free choice that
always comes with a wink and nod,
a little nudge, and exclaims of humans doing your work*"
I light a candle
not to you,
but for you
and be terrified
when I no longer do
<•>
Aug. 19, 2017
12:14 pm
Aug 19, 2017
Aug 19, 2017 at 1:14 PM UTC
Picasso at McDonald’s
super size my eyes--let the glare
of Pablo’s dead desires
burn my retinas, and
indelibly engrave the golden arches
behind my drooping lids
they will be my rainbows,
with pots of dreams
to order at each end
and fast food prophesies
slickly sliding down yelling yellow loops
through the endless blue sky
inside your hallowed halls
the chopped souls of Guernica
are invisible to our eyes
their stillborn screams don’t reach our ears
but their torment will be assuaged
by a Big Mac and large fries
they will no longer hear
the shrill whistle
of the German’s falling shells
the laughter of the children at play
or the other sinking sounds
that get us through the day
May 16, 2013
May 16, 2013 at 4:36 PM UTC
The fingerprint of life
Sounded very good,
And the flash of death
Appeared very dim,
Yet the sparrow led me
To the mighty stream
That has no source,
Yes, the appearance of the
Stream was very good,
Yet she came around
With her immaculate ***
Yes, she was in a flabby
Kente cloth which looked very dense,
Yet she came around
With her pleasant beacon,
Ah, look again,
This mighty tree has no roots
The shadow that can quench
The darts of the true enemy,
Has created a new wave of love,
See how I have grown to read
Between her apron white teeth,
For her bark looked black,
Because white was not yet beautiful,
This story must be told,
Oh yes, she must be known
By the ancestors and the Gods,
She is indeed the true
Likeness and image of Kabutuwaa,
Stir straight down the valley
And observe how beautiful
Her emperor Majesty of Ethiopia is,
Indeed, Montewab , She that bears
The eternal edible fruits of Africa
Is the fir of life,
Now that I have found
Empress Berhan Mogasa,
I am assuaged to rain against drought.
© PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI
Email: [email protected]
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 7:03 AM UTC
an illusion of the heart
it clouds your eyes
to the simple signs
that lead to the lies
of this broken art
a parasite of the mind
you believe this is bliss
from the first to last kiss
as you start to dismiss
the fact you are blind
so fly with your wings
and escape from that stage
to become quite assuaged
beyond all that rage
that's attached by strings
disintegrating, piece by piece
you start to decay
still smiling everyday
unaware you were just prey
to this creature who continues to feast
thus when the time is deserved
speak loud and clear
and ignore all the leer
from them and your peers
and all the attempts to make you unnerved
while the ties have been cut
and your vision has cleared
you're no longer adheared
to the leech that appeared
to be more than you thought
still this cycle remains
with the exception of few
who stick together like glue
but that will be you
when, vanished is the pain
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 12:49 AM UTC
There was an old man whose despair
Induced him to purchase a hare:
Whereon one fine day,
He rode wholly away,
Which partly assuaged his despair.
1.6k
Love is bereft ---abandoned by the heartless
cry not, nor lament--none is around to listen
sorrows of the broken heart
are never assuaged by reason
..ah ! when would love
its splendour once more glisten?
my pillow I #bite this sombre night
in tears--I never knew love was such a prison.
Mar 3, 2016
Mar 3, 2016 at 10:03 PM UTC
jasmine jostles
leaves fold
I watch
steel and glass contain
assuaged by structure
the wind blows
but not here
Apr 18, 2018
Apr 18, 2018 at 4:23 AM UTC
Sitting in silence, in her gold gilded cage
Filled with wistful wonder
With doors left open, fears are assuaged
Neither bound nor torn asunder
Yet broken wings cannot take flight
Even if she chose to try
Alone in a cage with no one in sight
She can't sing, but silently cries
Born to be loved in deep adoration
Her heart, won over with words
Consumed to ash in conflagration
A bird with no song to be heard
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 10:31 AM UTC
It all started with a big mistake;
I’m here to tell it was all a big fake.
Fred hit Kelly in his great big mouth;
He said he caught Kelly at his girl’s house.
Rosie was jealous of Fred’s main squeeze;
Said she always does what she pleases.
So, she cooked up the story about her.
And Kelly never knew a thing either.
But that didn’t stop the fur from flying.
I tell you the truth, if I’m lying I’m dying.
The mood changed in the old hangout.
Everyone stuck around, nobody cut out.
Everyone was gathered for birthday cheer.
You know, some pool and some beer.
Nobody knew about Rosie’s big lie
Or what kind of crap would soon fly.
They just laughed and cracked jokes;
Enjoyed some legal and illegal smokes.
And when the mood was sufficiently jolly
Rosie quietly took Kelly out into the ally.
Said she saw Kelly go into the house
Fred started fuming, calling Kelly a louse.
He went back in and he smacked old Kelly
And followed it up with a shot to the belly.
While Kelly was reacting, Fred purely raged.
He wasn’t quite done, was not even assuaged.
But Kelly’s girl Lydia heard what Fred said
And smacked Rosie up side of her head.
She started screaming that Rosie was a liar,
And then there were two more irons in the fire.
It was two women and two men slugging.
The Fist City Express started chugging.
Mirrors were broken by costly pool sticks
The bartender finally got tired of the tricks
And got out his baseball bat and stepped in.
Rosie ******* up and hit him on the chin.
By now, a customer called nine one one,
And the end of the brouhaha had begun.
All four of the combatants were busted.
And the cops finally decided they trusted
The regular customers who all insisted
That the bartender not be arrested.
It might be good to say it was a big shame
But fights in bars are the name of the game.
Especially when women fight, it’s a show
And bystanders in bars always let them go
And then cheer and some even take bets.
This is how selling alcohol to fools often gets.
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 11:28 PM UTC
.
I travelled the lands out to the West,
of all the cities I am most impressed,
with Melk, by mountains and sea it rests,
ruled by the Queen, Lyenna of Cressed.
Her beauty is famed throughout the land,
with many suitors for her vacant hand,
none of whom will ever understand,
she will marry only her own hearts plan.
I met Lyenna in her Palace of Green,
and my eyes saw beauty they had never seen,
so mysterious and delicate this foreign Queen,
seductive and distant with charms unseen.
Invited to an audience within the walls,
how could I not reply to this royal call,
these affairs tend towards a chaotic squall,
a chance to meet a Queen in her Great Hall.
“Lord Pagan of Poetica, I'm pleased to meet you,
its so nice for me to personally greet you”.
Her soft voice designed just to defeat you,
her ravishing beauty on show to unseat you.
With reddened cheeks I was able to say
“Its my pleasure indeed to meet you this day,
though the ground is cold and the sky is grey,
your presence brings the warm sun my way”.
My charm raised a blush and a smile,
she was happy to tarry with me awhile,
in the gardens we must have walked a mile,
her suitors barely concealing jealousy and bile.
Then Queen Lyenna whispered a secret to me,
she was waiting for a man from across the sea,
until he came she would hold on with assurity,
to her chastity, her love and her purity.
Her confidence in me was by no means assuaged,
but her secret I keep dear like an animal caged,
as deep within a raw and primal fire still raged,
I felt this moment could not have been better staged.
Her shy request to become my lover,
gifting to me what she would give no other,
my desire and lust I could no longer cover,
my heart was hers, no longer for another.
Disillusioned with the men in her land,
refusing them all she had made her stand,
not acquiescing to what her father planned,
the smile in her eyes said “I've got my man”.
From 'Selected Works'
by Lord Pagan of Poetica
© Pagan Paul (08/02/18)
Feb 8, 2018
Feb 8, 2018 at 6:51 PM UTC
Mislayed into a abysmal reverie
Like sitting idly in the dark
Relegated and cast aside
Residing in a transitional place
A midway state of imprisonment
Bordering a intermediate reality
In a fantasy of the unknown
Compacted within rage and peace
Hallucinations and premonitions
Guide my space of entrapment
Inside this world of inception
I feel like a ghostly embodiment
A entity inside my own mind
Lost in a indefinite mirage
The apparition of a phantom
Longing for a way out
Into a externalizing release
To reach a metigated outward form
To becalm and sooth my waves
Assuaged my grief and pain
My spirit must alleviate
Wake into the shimmering light
From this overwhelming dreamland
I often question myself
How did I cross the border?
Into the threshold of chimera
This beastly uncanny form
A wonderland of uncertainty
My brain has seemed to freeze
Succumbing to a brick of emotions
I have a potpourri of thoughts
A war of the good, bad and ugly
Yielding of a unrestrained musing
And now I seem to be descending
Furthermore dropping deeper
Into a vagary of dreams
A occurrence of sloping slumber
Such a unbearable enclosure
It's hard to snap out of..
It's difficult to escape from..
This ******* of my soul
Tightly submerged in the depths
Of a hammering state of limbo...
©Michael P. Smith
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 8:07 PM UTC
Being the black sheep of the family
Is all well and good until winter comes.
The grass is frozen, food is scarce
And those stomachs don't stop rumbling,
Ever wailing to be appeased,
Unaware and uncaring to the icy conditions.
They're not monsters, no.
They huddle together for warmth;
Snow dusting their coarse wool
As they stand, determined to make it through the cold.
But their stomachs scream like dying beasts,
And the ache is so prevalent in their empty bellies.
No fat to chew on, time passes by so slowly,
And that black sheep is starting to look like the odd one out.
It doesn't look like food,
But it does seem just enough like an other
To smother any guilt that may linger
At the bottom of a recently-assuaged hunger.
They're not monsters, no,
Because the black sheep was never one of them.
Oct 28, 2016
Oct 28, 2016 at 1:26 AM UTC
hope blossoms once again
in a desert bereft for so long
the ache of dust-filled emptiness
is assuaged by healing rain
a kiss from your lips showers me
the light in your eyes brings life
you tell me time and again
that there can be a future for us
I often struggle with what I lack
incompetent to give what you deserve
you ask nothing, yet wholly trust
when I've given no reason at all
it is exactly this trust which wakes me anew
from a long-lived, lifeless slumber
New growth springs forth as I strive to be
the woman you behold in me
we've seen pain and sorrow beyond compare
yet we've known both bliss and peace
through the long roads ahead I know there'll be more
of beauty mingled with scars
but, truly my love, so long as you're there
I'll take each one in stride
I may not always glow with happiness and hope
but I will certainly give it my all
because to hold you close and walk with you
through all life's mysteries and labyrinths
is all I've dreamed of, all I've wanted
since dreams were mine to conjure
I am with you today, yours tomorrow,
and beside you as long as you'll have me
though distance may separate my hand from yours
my heart will always be yours
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 12:42 PM UTC
Examining the tee from the game that you loved
I imagine your swing and thoughtfully rub
my thumb over imperfections made
of time, spent and gone;
now emptiness so. . . wrong.
I hold it for the ties to you.
Your nearness seeping in faint wisps
into my bones
but they are ghostly tethers.
Sitting in the home
you built. Amid the ruins of years
gladly spent in labor. Fears
gently assuaged and now forgotten
even as you fade.
As the time with you fades.
Your nearness pales,
After all, it is just a tee.
Now my panic fills the moment
as this tether fails
too.
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 2:31 PM UTC
This trio, conjoined by the snaking coil of a common dream,
Put forth their writing on the proverbial wall
The void between breached by the collective of the written word
Surreal landscape all the while sifting before their wise eyes,
Reached across miles to clasp their hand in the hall of time!
Never quenching the fire of their talent threefold muse,
Or assuaged in time the darkened orbs of the wise.
Through those hands that reached out for each other,
Three incomplete souls, three beads of one unique rosary,
Their heart full of amorphous love,
Breathed into each other a new life,
Became one missing piece of their puzzle,
Bound by a string of silent promises to stay intact,
To not fly away from each other, no matter how high their wings took them,
They set forth a journey, a journey full of never ending journeys.
The perils of their Fellowship, intangible
And the only barriers space and time
One being divided in three by fourteen hours and many miles of Earth
A chance linkage has set this pursuit in for a piece, a work in motion.
A work to describe their separation is forged
And the cogs of a collective mind start to spin.
A single piece borne from heart to heart as in a compendium
Spread out, and all around them the duties of the spherical lay;
Compiled by their hands is done,
And the same rising of the sun is seen of the three in each own way
The beauty of each rose is unfurled like the beating of each momentum!
The victory shall soon be won!
The goal of their want was met by the shores of brighter halls;
Herein contains the working of those annals which rose out of grey walls.
Now hand grasp hand to work complete,
And forged a work and friendship which cannot delete!
Though they rise and fell,
All around their eyes did well;
To see the beauty of one goal,
That did not crash upon some far off shoal!
So ran they the race of the clock which halted—injuries could not hold
The lays of their hearts was far stronger than the ills and their story's told.
The wheels of motion could not stop their voice,
Now they each rise up in one and do rejoice!
Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 10:42 PM UTC