"astound" poems
Well you see the thing to understand is poetry is a gospel to the world.
At first you feel as if it is oppressive chains tying you down to the soiled earth with every simplistic tick tock.
That is at least until you discover this world has no rules for an adventurer of free verse.
Your words now flow like an expeditious brook as long as you use metaphors with pretentious words.
However rules exist it is plain to see.
Some poems go aabb.
Those are simple ones to find.
Those are the ones stuck in your mind.
Now one more step, aabbc.
Those are a little more artsy.
You draw your crowd in.
Get under their skin,
And finish a little bit different.
And now it's time for set number three.
One that can simply astound.
The great, magnificent abab.
Those make a poet nearly profound.
There are couplets, sonnets, and monoryhms.
And now for the last one, all in good time.
I wanted you all to hear them like chimes,
But all that I had I left you in these lines.
Sep 19, 2011
Sep 19, 2011 at 11:26 PM UTC
Blessed are we all to live in a time
when the love of Craft beer exceeds that for wine.
Hops, malt and barley all now rule the day
When brewed up together in a nice I.P.A.
Who cares if some hipsters choose to babble away
about hints of oak in some obscure Chardonnay.
We are no longer limited to our father’s Budweiser.
The vast choice of beers would astound those old timers!
Cherry Wheat, pumpkin, and Oktoberfest
You’ll fall down on your face ere you’ve tried all the rest.
As Ben Franklin stated wittily and succinctly”
“Beer is the proof God meant man to be happy.”
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 7:56 PM UTC
When they buried me in the dark, I was frightened.
I didn’t like the taste of earth.
And I was so thirsty.
Some people are no good with plants,
Even the hardiest shrubs
Wither and wilt in their careless hands.
You aren’t one of them.
When no-one else could see,
You took such good care of me.
Water, warmth and love.
These are my needs, but I had no voice
With which to ask; without you
I would have remained inert
A lost life, in the dirt.
See now, how I blossom?
Just a shoot, but I will astound them all
With my beauty, in time.
Thank you for caring for me,
Thank you for helping me to grow.
Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 6:40 AM UTC
Pure? What does it mean?
The tongues of hell
Are dull, dull as the triple
Tongues of dull, fat Cerebus
Who wheezes at the gate. Incapable
Of licking clean
The aguey tendon, the sin, the sin.
The tinder cries.
The indelible smell
Of a snuffed candle!
Love, love, the low smokes roll
From me like Isadora's scarves, I'm in a fright
One scarf will catch and anchor in the wheel.
Such yellow sullen smokes
Make their own element. They will not rise,
But trundle round the globe
Choking the aged and the meek,
The weak
Hothouse baby in its crib,
The ghastly orchid
Hanging its hanging garden in the air,
Devilish leopard!
Radiation turned it white
And killed it in an hour.
Greasing the bodies of adulterers
Like Hiroshima ash and eating in.
The sin. The sin.
Darling, all night
I have been flickering, off, on, off, on.
The sheets grow heavy as a lecher's kiss.
Three days. Three nights.
Lemon water, chicken
Water, water make me retch.
I am too pure for you or anyone.
Your body
Hurts me as the world hurts God. I am a lantern ----
My head a moon
Of Japanese paper, my gold beaten skin
Infinitely delicate and infinitely expensive.
Does not my heat astound you. And my light.
All by myself I am a huge camellia
Glowing and coming and going, flush on flush.
I think I am going up,
I think I may rise ----
The beads of hot metal fly, and I, love, I
Am a pure acetylene
******
Attended by roses,
By kisses, by cherubim,
By whatever these pink things mean.
Not you, nor him.
Not him, nor him
(My selves dissolving, old ***** petticoats) ----
To Paradise.
11k
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you pout and defer, dancing backwards,
claiming, blue is now blackened
from underuse, incapable and incapacitating revival
*saying eyes cannot see, distinctly, neither near or far,
the tremble of love, forgot & distantly absent,
but I know, a heart’s sensory muscles never die,
though weaken they might, underused, un-exercised
denying that inspiration
no longer resides with in thy sensitivities,
has fled, undercover of smoking forest fires
all the diurnal hazards that invade, occupying
my internal spaces once filled by poems
you conceived, birthed, in a pleasured haze,
came so fast, you bare recall agony accompanied,
but not the ecstasy of the end resultant!*
***you know it’s you of whom I write, but,
a note not shaming names, but messages
countless private messages have I sent
begging, beseeching, give me your gifts***
once more, you owe me not, though I
oft irritate with my deafening pleas,
yet only denials continue, my pleas ding
but dent not, the tired fear of your exposition
so speak to you plain,
feed my soul selfish
like in years gone past,
there are holes in mine
that require your elixir,
creamy softness that moistens
my face with tears of your words
originating, astound, enfold**
not later, not soon, not excusals,
write for me NOW, WRITE FOR YOURSELF,
but leave me not forsaken and thirst un-slackened,**
Answer! To whom do you owe your poems?
Jun 11, 2023
Jun 11, 2023 at 11:30 AM UTC
∙∙∙◦◦•◎•◦◦∙∙∙
Promenade of Colors
reality ought to fade
watermarks on evening lake
the Lad idling was awake
Torments of Agony
the fear of ambiguity
a broidery of epitaph
toiling the stars up the top
Free of Delusions
impassive feelings strut
to the unknown that fogs
and hems over the mutt
Dashes of Silver
passing vessels of desolate
coxswain sighting out for love
moon bobs from the lake
Willows of Empathy
humming of Mississippi
-a friend that greets
the lake gave its peace
Signs of Eve
the breeze whispered
a wisp of eyes uncluttered
the Lad unshackled
Artistry of Sky
as spirits begins to fly
I was full astound
my purpose, now I found
Aug 20, 2017
Aug 20, 2017 at 11:04 AM UTC
We look upon each other
Drawing in the attraction
Wondering what’s beyond the skin
Inadequacy is sometimes found
Once we’ve pierced the heart within…
What if what makes us who we are
A total package if you prefer
Gives away our true kind
Decreasing the images’ worth
Creating a change of mind…
A peek inside the soul
Could be all we need to see
Sealing the fate of charm
A face that’s average to the eye
Has the heart to unravel and disarm…
If you look at all the masterpieces artists have created
Whether paint or pen, marble or clay,
Or perhaps the dust from the ground
We see many imperfections
But overall beauty may astound
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 10:09 AM UTC
Everything: pronoun.
a.) every thing of particular of an aggregate or total; all.
This is what I’m told you are
but I’ve never been one for deities.
You hear my thoughts
but command me to speak.
You know my human ways
but still expect to have me all to yourself.
You’re jealous- a “jealous god”
but I’m to believe you’re perfect?
The book says your ways are higher
but the coincidences and rules
that surround your mystery
just don’t add up enough for me.
Enough: adverb
a.) in a quantity or degree that answers a purpose or satisfies a need or desire; sufficiently.
I have a desire to change,
I have a desire to love,
hell, I want a Ferrari!
I don’t have those so are you
really enough if I use the book definition?
But, no, seriously, some people are starving
while others cant stop killing
or lying or stealing or hating.
Are you enough for them too?
Im still waiting,
but we at least have that in common.
They say you are too.
“They” being the activists, the followers, “yours”
and yet you’re still waiting for surrender.
Surrender: verb
a.) to yield to the possession or power of another; deliver up possession of on demand or under duress
You want me ever so much
-or so I’m told.
When I want something
I have to ask or initiate.
Where are you?
Are you planning on ever
speaking to me or asking?
Where is your humility
to simply ask?
Waiting for what you don’t ever request
is more foolish than I ever assumed
a deity of great power and might
could be.
You astound me for sure,
but not in a good way.
I thought the zealous screamed
something about you being the definition
of everything,
but I don’t seem to be able to define you that way at all.
I ask these questions innocently,
yet still I hear no response.
Did you perhaps,
in your infinite wisdom
create the world
and forget to give yourself a voice?
Feb 1, 2010
Feb 1, 2010 at 4:56 PM UTC
With no expectation all's novelty
The new patterns don't astound us
We can stay in the middle of the river with our heads above the water
And safely watch the coastline pass us by
The outside world an ocean of television static
The signals painting pictures of entropic holograms
That interlock and correlate
Until the ghosts of time are churning out
Like geese into a a tiny hole
In an orange plastic fence
Fleeing mischievous youngsters
Who love to watch them funneled in
Like grains of sand in an hourglass.
We too live in an hourglass
And the grains of sand empty out the bottom
Floating aimlessly through an unending void
And the ultimate improbability
Goes through the formality of actually occurring
When the grain of sand finds itself at the beginning
Passing once again through the hourglass
Undivided, indistinguishable
Nov 28, 2012
Nov 28, 2012 at 10:12 AM UTC
A foetus home, like a cocoon,
For nine months is in a womb.
And soon it travels in the outer world,
A cranky and tender little baby girl!
‘The child gave birth to a mother!’
Uttered a nurse besides the doctor!
Hearing her baby’s cry,
The mother falls at ease and sighs!
She cuddles her child gently,
And the child falls asleep gradually.
Being overwhelmed she begins to weep,
As she watches her little angel sleep!
She is astound by natures grace,
How her flesh and blood she can embrace!
She praises the Lord for this miraculous day!
She thanks the almighty in each way.
-Zainab Attari
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 2:04 AM UTC
Enzymes
eating fat stains
they're
land mines.
The tools of
macromolecules astound me
they're all
around me
if they ever found me
I'd be cleaned away.
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 2:33 PM UTC
I want a little berry, bright and red and round,
I want a little berry, to fill my ears with sound,
I want a little berry, my mind to astound,
I want a little baby, to always be around.
I want my hands to be filled with fruit,
To look in their faces, oh so cute,
To grow these sweets for my Father’s garden.
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 4:05 PM UTC
I went and bought a "Smart" house
in a stylish part of town.
It cost me a cool million
but its features did astound.
I can control the lights and locks
with apps on my smartphone.
I can view cam every room
to make sure no ones home.
The shutters and the blinds will rise
or drop at my command.
I can start the fireplace
while flying from Milan.
The automated kitchen
can prepare a gourmet meal.
and place my grocery order
making sure I get good deals.
In my den a giant wall
is a high res LCD
It shows me sports
and other sorts
of lovely greenery.
You'd think this place is perfect
and you're nearly right of course.
I'd still like to lose the talking scale
that says "Get off, You Horse!"
Aug 11, 2013
Aug 11, 2013 at 12:05 AM UTC
Croaky Karaoke
You poke your eyes out,
you put your eyes in,
you poke your eyes out,
and no vision makes you shout,
You do the croaky karaoke,
and twist yourself around,
people next to you become astound.
You pull your ears off,
you put your ears on,
you pull your ears off,
now you can't hear the applause.
You do the croaky karaoke,
and twist yourself around,
no longer can you hear a sound.
You pull your tongue out,
you put your tongue in,
you pull your tongue out,
the blood starts to pour like a spout.
You do the croaky karaoke,
and twist yourself around,
now it's tough even for a clown.
You yank your teeth out,
you put your teeth in,
you yank your teeth out,
and that's what life's all about.
You do the croaky karaoke,
and twist yourself around,
by now your underwear is browned.
You rip your head off,
you put your head on,
you rip your head off,
people are using your eyes for golf.
You do the croaky karaoke,
and twist yourself around,
now you're dead, as you fall to the ground.
It was a party at the ***** colony,
the croaky karaoke was pure comedy.
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 12:18 AM UTC
She will astound.
She will amaze.
Her thought process is more often than not unique and profound.
We have been in near-constant contact for hundreds of days.
One email; complementing an author for writing a truly wonderful work of fiction.
Has become so much more. I certainly didn’t foresee. I doubt anyone could have, well not without assistance, perhaps a psychic prediction.
I find it immensely difficult to verbalize, even now.
And I feel that I must...Just….Hmmm…How?
We have talked for hours on end, about any and all things.
Who knew?
But what I write is true.
An unbreakable bond we have. With the clicking of a Send button, that is how I say it begins.
Her voice at times, is the only thing that allows me to regain or maintain my focus.
No amount of medication, therapy or any other kumbaya related hokus pokus.
She is always reminding me that I have, and can find inner strength and powers.
Countless times, she has been the reason for me not to yield.
She has saved me in my darkest of hours.
She is my shield.
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 8:14 AM UTC
Old memories preserved in black and white.
Reminisce of a time less contrite.
Seen through the lens of those without strife.
Young and free with a passion for life.
Replaced by wisdom, fear and guilt.
For the life one has methodically built.
With walls and doors, and windows to see.
As the world passes by this absentee.
Surrounded by frames of the finest wood.
Of snapshots of the potential that someday could.
Climb the mountains unreached by the hands of our time.
Instead stuck walking for fear of the climb.
For fear of the fall and all it might bring.
Fear of the inability to rebuild his wings.
Compliant with gravity, compliant with normality.
Unfamiliar with the rebellion that once filled his soul.
Defining his life where their now is a hole.
Replaced by a scar and filled with his tears.
As the joys of his childhood continue to disappear.
Chased away by the light of reality.
Youthful dreams replaced in actuality.
Ambitions refocused towards sensuality.
Mind made up of generalities.
Soul defined in spirituality.
As his life moves slowly into irrationality.
And though the colors here are always bright.
They are most vulnerable in the absent of light.
Replaced by the darkness and a mind numbing truth.
One we all have forgotten from our youth.
That the potential of life knows no bounds.
And that which we can create will always astound.
Those who come after us and those who continue to follow.
Will continue to fill our world as if it was hollow.
In need of filling with that which they create.
Building from our ashes on a brand new slate.
Their artistry challenged only by those.
Who have left footprints in the sand with their bare toes.
So which life do you wish to live.
One of solitude or one where you continue to give.
Give your time, give your energy, give your heart and your soul.
To the child in you whom you continue to out grow.
Continue to neglect who’s dreams have yet to be filled.
By the world you once dreamed of with those Legos you use to build.
Dreams filled with sky scrapers all in black and white.
Only to be interrupted by mornings first light.
Life’s colors seeping in as they begin to fill your days.
Your youthful ambitions still here in many ways.
Still clinging to you through those memories of yesteryear.
Captured in your childish smile radiating so clear.
Feb 19, 2012
Feb 19, 2012 at 9:33 PM UTC
I just want to say how proud i am that i created this special group or collection; discovering so many talented poets that astound me with their dark and creative poetry! I'm in love with this collection more everyday! Please carry on being the creative psychopaths that you are! Perfect!
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 9:54 AM UTC
Life flows through the doors,
Dispersed by the ceiling fan,
A makeover for every patron,
The waitress serves a second chance.
Ex-husband but current parent,
Negotiating with a teenage daughter,
Two untouched lunch plates,
As the gap grows further and further.
Central focus being on a book cover,
Held by an E.R nurse still in her scrubs,
The waitress tries to decipher a meaning,
All while wiping leftovers from table tops.
The calender on the wall says Friday,
And in walks a sundress along with a button down,
Two steaks and a red rose,
Right up comes the waitress with a dinner to astound.
Beginnings and ends in motion,
The clock cues for the 40-something man,
In the far corner he sips his black coffee,
Forlorn eyes of a widow staring at a wedding band.
Wiping beads of sweat from her forehead,
Retying her hair into a secured knot,
Exhaustion slowly kicking in,
As she refills the coffee ***
The college girl strolling in with her book bag,
Smiles with pity at her as she gives her order,
She thinks of how her minimum wage must look,
But her love for her job makes her smile never falter.
Days are something treasured,
Every hour, a different movie plays,
She collects all those stories,
With the tip left after the customer pays.
Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 4:54 PM UTC
While out walking with my girlies
Felt a feeling in my curlies
No need to say just what
Had made that feeling in my ....(nether regions shall be used here....but feel free to rhyme away)
I ran into the nearest store
I knew what I was looking for
No need now to name the brand
You'll all know later where I stand
It's obvious who came to visit
You never really want to miss it
Unless you're trying for a kid
Then everyone knows what you did
No need now to be so coarse
But later riding on a horse
I felt a sudden urge to swim
It came to me just on a whim
So off I went out to the pool
Standing there just like a fool
My Esther Williams gene arrived
And on the count of three....I dived
I was great, I did astound
Thankfully..no sharks around
But as I finished in the water
I thought...well now I think I oughta...
Go out running for a while
In four minutes I'd done a mile
Incredibly, I had a feeling
For a cup of good Darjeeling
So I took a small time out
Before I had a boxing bout
Now, this I thought I'd never done
But then again, it could be fun
I was surprised, for I'm quite meek
I only hoped I didn't leak
Remeber when this whole thing started
It wasn't cause I thought I'd farted
Now, truth be told I cannot lie
I'd never give these things a try
But on tv....I saw an ad
And women do these with their pad
So, Playtex is the brand I like
And now I'm off to ride my bike!!!
So slap one on to be athletic
Then you won't be so pathetic
Buy one box and get two free
Playtex is the brand for me!!!
May 3, 2012
May 3, 2012 at 5:02 PM UTC
Before the time of Legions strong
When Romans wore their tresses long,
Before the ape man rose *****
To view the world as circumspect,
Before the storms of red dust came
To render this parched land arcane,
There grew a tree of ugly norm
Of massive girth and height and form,
Ungainly so and so immense
As to astound thee to commence,
To fear the very sight beheld
On Africa’s savannah veldt.
The baobab rose from the plain
Unearthly, in demonic name,
An apparition to dismay
All those who dare to come this way.
Vaulting from savannah grass
To clasp the heavens in it's grasp
Then spread its’ limbs, as if to be,
All silhouettes’ eternity.
Giant Aloft in giant-less land,
Far more than thee would understand,
Mystic in its’ silent way
Eternal as the light of day,
Starkly silhouetted sight
Affronting delving sunset’s might.
M.
18 January 2016
Jan 17, 2016
Jan 17, 2016 at 11:01 PM UTC
When I was younger:
I shuffled along,
to no urgent song,
didn't march through my day strong. When young and strong are the best time for planned convictions.
There's no acting lazy, or slowing down to the crazy, unless you want to live ungracefully in this hard unforgiving world.
When I was younger:
I lacked logic cause I didn't make clear my premise,
like a man with no plan, a sap with no map. I wandered tither and yonder like a ghoal without a goal, a ghost least of most, no future to ponder.
When I was younger:
I bogged down in metaphorical feces cause I didn't watch where I was wading, forsaking and debating, planning is for suckers, futures are for chuckers.
When I was younger:
I did nil and stood still while the city raced around me, progress to astound thee, forgetting the earth constantly rotates 260 miles an hour- waiting for no one.
When I was younger:
Like the Dodo bird I forgot to grow wings, was eatin by rats and things, became extinct and unlinked to a place run on business, consumerism and cash. On the rocks I was dashed.
When I was younger:
I became he who loses, with a broken compass and excuses, laying laggardly leaderless, with the snoozing and the boozing, and sold my initiative for a bag of grass.
That's when I was younger:
I'm older than that now. But I still remember. It's hard being younger!!
May 21, 2018
May 21, 2018 at 7:03 PM UTC
The bayed back feeling that once was you
Boiling down the ethereal , in differences
I cross the twi's lights knowing I will be
here . . . for a thousand years
This is astound , no reason is clear
Where the smell of grass comes to pass
You remember a kiss that won't disappear
. . . . . . beyond a thousand years
Tuesday . . . dragging the clouds away
Hearing the voices that were never there
Telling me to hang my ethereals out to dry
It may take a thousand years
Cold hearted orb dressed in white satin
embrace the shadows you cast across
Tell all the Knights lacking they cannot win
Not in a thousand years
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 8:24 PM UTC
I went and bought a "Smart" house
in a stylish part of town.
It cost me a cool million
but its features did astound.
I can control the lights and locks
with apps on my smartphone.
I can view cam every room
to make sure no ones home.
The shutters and the blinds will rise
or drop at my command.
I can start the fireplace
while flying from Milan.
The automated kitchen
can prepare a gourmet meal.
and place my grocery order
making sure I get good deals.
In my den a giant wall
is a high res LCD
It shows me sports
and other sorts
of lovely greenery.
You'd think this place is perfect
and you're nearly right of course.
I'd still like to lose the talking scale
that says "Get off, You Horse!"
Aug 11, 2013
Aug 11, 2013 at 12:05 AM UTC