"asterisks" poems
1638
Go thy great way!
The Stars thou meetst
Are even as Thyself—
For what are Stars but Asterisks
To point a human Life?
6.5k
they disappear,
tip-toeing past bedtime,
out into the cozy darkness
protected by the full moon shadows,
and fading high school hoodies.
both carrying a blanket,
a pillow, and a future
they climb,
step-by-step,
towards their favorite hole to the sky,
next to the old brick chimney,
weathered black shingles,
and forgotten leaves from
past seasons.
they lay,
hand-in-hand,
whispering valuable nonsense
and counting the asterisks,
until they slowly fall asleep
only minutes before the sun
begins to rise in the east.
Jan 4, 2010
Jan 4, 2010 at 7:36 PM UTC
I made a list of all our kisses, starting with just ‘kiss’
Which in the heat of passion was italicized like this:
kiss, then emphasized in variations Kiss! and KISS and KISS
Which even though ethereal somehow added to our bliss.
And later in IM we found that we could really KISS!
I mean in theory still, of course, for physically we missed
The real touch of real lips and autres choses on that list.
And there were funny graphics, I can’t reproduce them here,
But you know the ones we used a lot, they all meant kisses there
The hearton built with < and 3, which always made you smile
And the asterisks and emoticons we used once in a while
And let’s not forget those x’s which a net of crosses wove
*** and xxxx, our ****** book of love.
Soon added to our kisses came words like longingly,
And tenderly, and lingeringly and gentle morningly
Sometimes we gave it lots of tongue, but loving nibbles too
Whenever I’d le pout or tears your lashes would bedew.
These are the ones I can recall, probably there are more
I’m sure you’re itching to remind me from your memory’s vast store
And you can tell me all about them in some poetry well versed
But my love, before you write it, you’ll just have to kiss me first.
Mar 11, 2012
Mar 11, 2012 at 10:17 PM UTC
She has red roses as asterisks, the star-shaped things
that are just scar shapes on me
and with her, there is
pollen
that she'll drag her fingernails across. She will
sprinkle colors on your chewed up,
cratered lips, saying you
will look beautiful and
feel full again. Well, I'll be the one to kiss you next
with grains of sulfur glued to your cheek
the rotten taste
making it so your mouth glows in the dark. I
know where to kiss and never tell: I
am sure you must notice my cigarette burns when
the lights are out. I have lit myself
like a candle,
and say
I cough from the smoke because no one can know
that I swallow all your poisons for you.
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 4:31 PM UTC
When I've written something deep;
When I really want your attention;
And I need you to read it with emotion,
With my feelings and my voice;
And I'm hoping you get my meaning,
Because I think you need help,
I use asterisks.
Asterisks.
Ever look closely at an asterisk?
Draw one.
Enlarge it on your screen.
Notice any resemblance to anything you own,
Anyone you know?
It looks like the
*Selfie of an *******
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 8:06 AM UTC
Rattan letter rack stuffed
with hundreds of coupons
like requests to the Gods
sits under shrine
called the spice rack.
Little bottles
as dusty on outside
as within,
have no aroma left.
This temple's kitchen counter
top is mustard asterisks on
ivory laminate, so reminiscent
of ancient wonder.
These late '60's early '70's
design elements, lacquered
over with grease of yesterday's
din-dins, are only indicative
of where the resident wished
to be.
Now, even India, has lost
authentic texture, alluring space
and line, in these Internet times.
Though he can still smell cardamom,
nutmeg, and cinnamon waft from
Southeast. It is stuck in his mind.
Yet, since time of his dearly
departed's passing, no sandalwood
has been burned and he only
eats corn flakes.
America has changed him so.
Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 7:38 PM UTC
If a stargazer falls for you,
every star and asterisk she finds
will bear your name.
She will trace the constellations
just to prove how the heavens
were drawn to resemble your jawline
If a traveler falls for you,
every road she takes will fold back on itself.
Her maps, her compass,
will betray her in the quietest way—
every route leading, inevitably,
to you
If a scientist falls for you,
she will build a formula out of fragments—
half logic, half longing—
so the reaction between you two
never reaches its half-life
If a musician falls for you,
your name will hum beneath her chords,
a refrain she can’t erase.
Even the birds, on the first day of spring,
will learn to sing it back to her
If an artist falls for you,
you will live in every canvas—
in the tilt of light against your face,
in the way your hand curls
mid-laughter, mid-silence,
mid-midnight conversation
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 10:07 AM UTC
a voltage feeds my mind
like that of a brief rainfall
where there is an asterisks
of insignificant social commentary
whose reality pertains
to disproportionate events
whose commission
makes a profession out of trivia
which is no more ******* durable
than accumulated dispersion of adrenalin
that of a psychophysical explorative
exploitation of unrealized
perpetual fermentation
that seethes with the singeing smell
that accompanies its lie
those demanding untruths
that lock each and everyone
in a burning prison of panic
a prism of unfocused
visionary liberation perhaps to some
the realization of the cosmos
that lives within the poets interior
a mighty roar of space
waiting to be filled
with visions of future worlds
of future social commentary
Jun 10, 2013
Jun 10, 2013 at 2:54 PM UTC
what do you want
i want to put my forehead to your temple and wrap my arm around you. i want to feel at home again. and wild and unbound. with all of the fancy fish swimming from me to you. as i rock.
i rock my head against you, the curves make it easy to do. i tighten my grip and
glitter paint on our fingertips and that
small
secret on hushed lips, smirking. savored. unbound.
unbound and scattered. beautiful words. bold, italic, underlined. asterisks and parentheses. tossed and grabbed at by our bony fingers. like it was some sort of game. it was. i need you now.
enthusiasm and hip bones jutting. neon, day glow, pink and stained tile on the bathroom floor.
i need you now. simply. i know no one else came close.
one girl to another.
unbound.
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 5:11 AM UTC
I asked you to read to me.
(I always ask them to read to me.)
(There's something about the way their fingers flip the pages
and their lips linger on certain letters
and their unique strategies of correcting themselves
when they stutter or mispronounce a word)
(Although your narration was smoother than the cliched flutter of a butterflies delicate wings.)
You agreed to be my raconteur
of the novel I let you borrow
and you painted pictures like no other,
of vivid skies and snowy German cities, all for me.
I couldn't recognize the medium you used at first.
I've seen watercolor landscapes and acrylic abstracts,
but you preferred oil portraits.
You knitted quilts of time passing train rides and hiding in basements.
Your voice was a foreign feel of fabric.
I once laid in satin, and then wool.
You were velvet.
Your head was in my lap while I braided your sheepish curls
and your fingers sheepishly traced patterns on my knee caps
and I could have fallen asleep right there,
easily, perhaps,
had I not been falling for the rise and fall of your breaths
in between cleverly placed asterisks,
chapter titles,
and clumsy kisses.
So tell me, what happens next?
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 4:22 PM UTC
Someone put an
asterisk
in the Constitution and the
Declaration of Independence
when we weren't looking.
They added terms and conditions,
the ones nobody bothers to read
until they're ****** by them.
We live in the 'Land of the Free', asterisk.
We have the right to free speech, asterisk.
We can practice any religion, or none, asterisk.
We have the right of Life and Liberty, asterisk.
Rich, white, men know that the asterisk means
'for me, but not for thee," as they smile and
waggle their eyebrows at one another.
We live our lives surrounded by asterisks.
Truth lives in the asterisks.
May 27, 2018
May 27, 2018 at 12:48 PM UTC
Grey blue asterisks against a wet valley of hills
clutching boulders for *******
crags and crannies filled
with luscious flower bursting in bloom
summertime
solace of scenic breaks
the bus trundles around corners
through to Milford Sound
majestically beautiful in its isolation
and magnificence
the lupins soar like coloured points of ecstasy
into shades of pink purple blue
taking in the breathless landscape
as if it all owned the place
forever.
Riding back through the ice packs and awe
of blue waters and spray mists of inspiration
we sit silent and absorbed
cameras unable to take in beauty of depth
but a small window of memories
that capture our time and place
in this wilderness.
Leave it alone for the lupins.
Author Notes
A journey through Milford Sounds-World Heritage site, New Zealand.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 2:59 AM UTC
so much
remember how we got really very lost in st. augustine, and ended up finding somewhere beautiful on unfamiliar beaches, smoking a bowl next to a oceanside bar dimly lit with christmas lights that was playing one good song after another?
remember how you looked at me the first time we intertwined, alone, laid in big fields, and i noted, how your eyes looked like the freshest honey? the air was full of blossoming love
last night i rolled into you and my head fit right into the nook where your arm meets your shoulder. i said, you are like markham park in the winter time. seeing you is like seeing the excitement i had when i first saw snow, and oh how i expected it to resemble big asterisks falling from bloated clouds, because i live in florida, and that’s all i’d seen.
the bitter cold that settles into a comfortable warmth once you slip on another layer leaves me in a satiated daze. my eyes well up with the thought of you. memories of our shared existence streak past my cheeks and drip off my jaw.
we were laying on the floor.
i jolted and you embraced me.
it was night, and i rubbed your nose, just like my favorite song said to do.
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 2:40 AM UTC
I told you, I don't want that kind of girl.
The way she bent the strobe- and the moonlight,
the way she kept telling me to shut up,
the way her heels acted like asterisks --
Marie, she ain't my kind of girl.
I told you, I'm just waiting for my head to clear.
I need fall to end the crow and vulture's flight.
I need to get unkempt and shut-in.
I need the pills to pull hat tricks --
Marie, I need a few more weeks.
I told you, my body's not ready.
I'd love to defend the howl and hiss of night.
I'd love split rent and shudder skin.
I'd love the pushups and matchsticks --
In the spring.
I promise, Marie.
Feb 14, 2012
Feb 14, 2012 at 1:19 AM UTC
Nonchalant swipes, a branding spark.
Colons, dashes and asterisks - carefully arranged.
Soft whispers, quiet water, steamy breaths seen.
Smooth bellies, tender lips, musky smells imagined.
Alike paths cross, then twist away.
I miss what I've never had.
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 4:44 PM UTC
oxymoron overdose
deadbolt atriums
intersected playlists
the unluckiest clothespin
a mailbox full of compliments
wallowing asterisks
carpeted portraits and
unearthed apologies
it all stemmed from backseat rattling complexity
lighthouse morphine
seventeen somber ached explosions
sipping acrylic reveries
cleverly blossomed illusions
thigh stumbling permission
clumsy german metaphors
thirsty chapter jigsaw keys
worried cities newfound screams
vision confusion and pity bottles
poisoned school affection
oh christ, darling
a deaf chorus
thoughtless phantom
seed eyed stranger
road scarred sighs
***** locked moths
velvet butterflies
a sweeter sleeping spine
growing began expression
storms lack protection
yesterday placed comfort in salvation
the vast presence of a strong man's island mother
hazel vacations
a shattered soldier
trembling girls in sorry gardens, limbs in full bloom
naive humming mirrors
children having mistook living
trees half known
whispered smiles and mattress lullabies
cigarette stories firework insecurities
books begging
floor stopping feeling
Jun 21, 2015
Jun 21, 2015 at 9:57 PM UTC
When the words
All run together
And the apostrophes
Look tired.
When the asterisks
Are snowflakes
And your work is
Uninspired
It's time to gather
Up your kit
& time to rest
Your head
When you see
The page begin
To peel...
it's time to go to bed!
G'night all!
Jun 2, 2017
Jun 2, 2017 at 9:41 AM UTC
I wish I could touch you
not in a way that would be
awkward
just in a way that would
say in no words
I Love You
because the few characters
on a screen are not enough
I want to hug you
with full emotion
without the meaningless
emoticons and the asterisks
that means I really,
really
want to hug you
but you're there
and I'm here
How do we breach
the distance?
Why can't we touch?
I really want
to hug you
and tell you
I love you
so much
Jul 18, 2012
Jul 18, 2012 at 7:54 AM UTC
everybody watch the **** out
there's a nineteen year old trying to get profound over here
it all started when I was kid
thinking
why am I not one of those poor bloated African kids on the TV?
why am I an English school boy sitting to close to a TV?
meaning
meaning
meaning
meaning that there has to be some reason for all of this
but I got older
dumber
jaded and bitter
and I think I've figured it all out
no really just hear me out
the meaning of all of this
from womb to tomb
is that there isn't one
deep,
right?
but life is like a cartoon fight
a cloud of dust projecting fist
boot
asterisks
wavy lines
and we're all in that melee
and we're all going to get our teeth kicked in
life's one tough sonofabitch
and it's been doing since before there was a before
my point being
you can't beat life
and you can't avoid it forever
all you can do is hope
that when that ball of cartoon extravagance has settled
you'll be clutching onto the things you need
the things you want
the things you love
and you'll still be able to stand back up
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 10:23 AM UTC
Perhaps they were right putting love into books.
Perhaps it could not live anywhere else.
— William Faulkner
Faulkner said that maybe love
cannot live outside of libraries
If his assessment is accurate
then I want to pen our passion
on every piece of paper I possess
I will produce poetry proclaiming
the severity of our seductions
And scribble you and I between
asterisks on the pages of periodicals
so we can be among the stars as well
Darling, I will turn all of our dates
into diary entries and change the
definitions for words like brilliance and
glorious into descriptions of us
When I’m through, we will
have the most eternal
love stories around
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 5:09 PM UTC
I felt crash landed - in a strange place,
This is not how I planned it - mind in an estranged state,
Felt like a different planet - what is the strange space,
Dealt with the grapes i was handed - but I had to change the pace,
Expected enmity cause eventually everybody's an enemy,
I used my verbal anemone to protect my mental amenities,
I had to penalize penalties that tried to dismember me,
But since I moved to the peach,
Life's a beach - but with ample sand,
Scenery is asterisks and ampersands,
Bittersweet ; I asked for this,
Father stretched my hands,
I managed this time shift- now i have super visions,
No more stupid visions of voodoo superstitions,
Thought it'd be an intermission to my inner mission..
But I'm Saiyan,
A lot of Heros turned out to be Villains,
Like Some of my Gokus turned out to be Krillins,
I'm Saiyan;
Some of the Halos they held turned out to be Horns,
Some of the flowers they had handed me , had thorns,
I'm Saiyan;
I took advice from an imitation Master Roshi,
Fake homies just here for the ride, like Yoshi,
I'm Saiyan;
I had to pick a low to go on for my motivation,
I had to pick a coat to throw on for this hibernation,
I'm Saiyan;
for some reason my plight i chose to prolong,
Had them demons blowin up my cell , like Gohan,
I'm Saiyan;
I ducked advice and moved from the side of them,
Then i sacrificed ...myself-
I was on some saibaman,
I'm Saiyan;
I had to access these hidden chambers,
with my hand on my black chest,
I know I'm something greater...
Nov 30, 2023
Nov 30, 2023 at 2:09 PM UTC
he said hi to me
but,
it was the transparent kind of
hi
with nothing attached to it
no subtle parenthesis
no trailing ellipses
no asterisks
with a small note
printed in fine letters
no suggestions
of saying
i love you
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 1:38 PM UTC
You are such a twelve year old boy
With such classy humor
You don't even say what your joke is
You just put asterisks
And leave me hanging
What the hell man?
I wanna be a twelve year old boy too
You ****
Lol * ***** joke * lol
Dork
Aug 10, 2016
Aug 10, 2016 at 2:00 AM UTC