"bemusing" poems
This kiss is the last word tonight
It mutes your soft whisper
And the comfort of your voice
Leaving musings on my side of the bed
This noise of a thousand thoughts
It drowns out your breathing
And the silence of the night
As words toss and turn inside my head
This secret is locked in my heart
It veils all our untold stories
Like poetry behind closed eyes
Dreaming that it won’t remain unsaid
This evasion of verbal confrontation
It quiets the bemusing pieces
That would come out misshapen
Making unspokenness easier than regret
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 8:47 AM UTC
Spider
Walking into a corridor of neatly aligned cobwebs,
that have your history strewn across, like telephone wires
intertwining and intersecting,
Making all the conversations and voices interweave,
crossing paths - causing a disruption in the line,
the static disturbances echoing through the dark corridor
embellished with these cobwebs that have been lost in your mind.
The cobwebs speak like conversations
from broken telephone poles
that are overlapping and confusing the mind,
muddled and disarrayed, lacking any sense.
time has consumed these thoughts,
leaving bits and pieces,
that only mislead you
You swing across paving new paths with silken threads,
crisp and new, like adhesive,
glistening with prosperity.
Yet you keep these deep rooted cobwebbed memories
locked in your mind,
like Pandora’s box ready to unravel.
So just let them retire,
they have fallen and become undone,
and now they just collect
dust from your memories
Reminding you of thoughts,
that are specked and flecked
with dusty recollections.
Those worn out thoughts can no longer collect,
they only eject,
tangled stories confusing you
and bemusing you
So don’t collect
your abandoned webs,
like a memory book - they are no longer relevant,
they were just webs you wove to learn
how to weave the web you now conceive,
strong and secure,
fully capable to endure.
Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 3:21 PM UTC
reality
unatnable truth
bemusing, observing, creating
my eyes wide open
tangability
Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 5:33 AM UTC
the slavs never left europe,
which makes the language
of western europe
riddled with missing accents
noted and seen spoken and unheard of likely
so bemusing you almost wish
they stayed, and played that game
of small town boy, liked khaki,
said khaki was ***** brown,
twist the star of david not the ********
21st century;
then the care to speak the language,
and riddling politicise the language
of that what's spoken for ego as master censor
make ***** of f*ck... please do parabola -
i'll just graffiti in chalk across all fives of the keratin.
Jan 1, 2016
Jan 1, 2016 at 12:26 AM UTC
Of what poetic alchemy does this leaden torch
Transmute to golden lines, ear whisperings?
Do our hearts not skip a beat when the comfortable
Silence that is part of our poem's melody's weave,
Within its tapestry, are placed just so?
Is it not a pointless point, my pen's unending one
Does alight, for reading isn't hearing?
Is not a twig of poetree, earthen, sun sparked,
Skybound, too true to expound?
And when our heart gestures,
Bleeding ink lines dance,
Engraving such imagery in a mind's eye,
Feelings within a breast, bemusing the ear,
Do they not accompany
In the Spheres choreography?
Is nature not awoke
When bards extemporaneously
Evoke such wonder that co-creation
Of the universe is quickened?
"Ya got me!", a listener asserts
Dismissively, as the audience laughs.
Mar 21, 2018
Mar 21, 2018 at 3:42 AM UTC
Every last breath
Noted on a bemusing script of flesh
Like a disease
Like an infectious—
Tell me.
If I could do it over
And kiss you whilst your lips quaked
Then grin alongside shy tears
That life you were pulling up,
With my eyes as your sheave to a dim-lit tapestry,
Would it be there yet?
Behind the curtain of magnanimity
Pit orchestra abashed
Forlorn and begotten
Words of heraldry ring through this kingdom
Existing only in my mind
A land beneath the stage
Worlds inside headspace
Turn the critic’s shadowy eye
Backward from this date on newsprint
Soaked in angry, puddled water soot
Oct 25, 2010
Oct 25, 2010 at 10:17 PM UTC
Day was very sunny,
Old Jet felt so funny,
Old black lab, muzzle grey,
His family off to work today,
Left alone, watchdog to keep,
Old Jet lay down to sleep,
His gait was slow,
Not much get up and go,
Jet slumbered on,
Not too long,
His canine dreams bemusing,
Flashbacks Old Jet perusing,
Brilliant happy companion days,
Lots of fun and rambling plays,
Ben was his best loved lad,
Now Jet's unofficial dad,
His loyalty never wavered,
Yes, Ben he always favoured,
Pats and hugs and lots of snacks,
All kindness, time to relax,
Old Jet's breathing slowed,
Snoring on, time to go,
Asleep in the sun, one deep sigh,
No one home to say goodbye,
No drama, no fuss,
Old Jet's no longer with us,
His long life over,
Puppy Heaven for old rover,
Old Jet had breathed his last,
Finally, Jet had passed.
Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 10:43 PM UTC
Darwin caused quite the revolution
When he propounded the theory of evolution
From the amoeba to the **** sapiens
Gradual he said was the divergence
Bohr’s concept rang true
Matter made of atoms was his view
Protons and electrons spun in their own orbit
Holding life in their ambit
The collisions creating energy kinetic
Life became electric
Theories became ecelectic
Men became a little neurotic!
The fall of the apple with spontaneity
Newton attributed to the law of gravity
Nothing in life could stay up for long
All to the earth belong!
Einstein’s thoughts took flight
and raced with the speed of light
With tremendous acuity
As he scripted the theory of relativity
Life was accidental
The discovery monumental
Chemistry was fundamental
Carbon, hydrogen and nitrogen, elemental
Watson and Crick sought to unravel
Two strands twisted in parallel
At the core of life lay
The magic of DNA
Space stretches endless
Through galaxies seamless
Artificial satellites do traverse
Yet unexplained remains the Universe
Physics became nuclear
Chemistry capable of terror
Biology turned molecular
Yet the meaning of life remained unclear
Emphasis laid on reason
And impeccable logic
Of analysis statistic
all things scientific
Bemusing and beguiling
Inspiring and Intriguing
Studied in parts never whole
Unfathomed yet is God’s role
Beyond reason lies intuition
That forms it’s own perception
Each of us have a vision of our own
Of God’s incredible creations
Deep in meditations
Unaware of limitations
Insight is incidental
Truth is transcendental!
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 11:05 PM UTC
Is a blossoming flower
Is a destructive power
is ultimate joy
That is easy to destroy
Life is bliss a blessing, a kiss
life is frustration
full of temptation
Life is bemusing, often confusing
May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 6:47 AM UTC
Peachy contours with subtle donning
Of weightless snow drifts
Tracing the gentle curl as
The violent crash emits
With the solid intensity in dutiful purpose
Meandering it’s way through a hum
Without attempt to create solitude
With equal amounts of sifted grain
A reflection appears, grazing over
Each aspect of the expected self
One must merge with the tide
To remove themselves with the present
To arise from the hearth where
The roots bind one to the expectations
Of the measured day
To sprout wind currents and dance in light
Bemusing the shallow redness that arises on
The palms of those who ask too much
A cramped grammar this is to tell and be told
With silvery sinew that loosens the joints of time
Allowing the ebb to push you out
Of the past and into the
Malleable starch of the future
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 1:42 PM UTC
A vivid pastel vertigo
That sends me through time and space
To all the places I should never know
To distances large and great
A bemusing tornado of words
That wrap around my head
Singing the tune of the birds
That make me so willing to be led
An iridescent amalgamation of assumptions
Swimming in the sea of my mind
And though I'll never utter a word of confession
I know you'll get it in time
The feelings in my mind
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 4:44 PM UTC
The most pleasurable sound is
around when I am surrounded
be pecan trees giving their leaves and seeds
to the breeze almost willing
the rain to drizzle down
on my metal roof
so bemusing a melody
somewhat made by god
for me and my dreams.
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 2:46 AM UTC
Some find me amusing
Some find me bemusing.
Others find me vexing
Or even perplexing.
I don't care what you think
Unless I do.
But I mustn't look down
And start feeling blue.
Nov 20, 2018
Nov 20, 2018 at 2:55 PM UTC
What a curse for the world of poets to lie within the realm of dreams. We'll never see the real thing the same way, nor will any other see our world at all. So we are strung apart, and never understood, as we seek endlessly to understand ourselves.
Kinship, and loss.
I know of resonance, but not of thought.
I feel emptiness, but I am not.
I am nought.
I am wrought.
I am molded in the image of my dreams.
Which are brought about from all that I have seen.
I know you feel it too, but I know none will see me, true.
Won't know me truly.
I am nothing.
I am losing, simple, fleeting, flighty me.
I am bemusing, ever strewn, interminably.
Lost upon a fabricated of sea of my own dreams.
Jul 15, 2019
Jul 15, 2019 at 9:05 PM UTC
No more long, slow days
of pushing through
fatigue and boredom,
we've stagnated long enough
they say.
Now the wind kicks up a renewed warmth
that greets us in the morning over the white-capped mountains.
Now the sun sets and shrouds a cloudless sky in gold.
We hear voices, whispers
saying someday soon we'll go out
to ****
or be killed.
And it's scary how much it excites us
to fantasize about death;
about our role in catastrophe
and the empty glory.
Sometimes death hurtles through the beautiful
high, azure sky. And leaves
not a mark, not even a cool shadow on the ground
as it flutters harmlessly to the earth
bemusing us. underwhelming us.
Some weeks are so quiet
that we touch the nuts and bolts
of true nothing
too much.
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feel too little and lose sight
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of our purpose. Lose sight
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of the need
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for one. Lose sight
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of memories of ******* by the fire.
Lose sight of what there is
to guard inside of us, to keep
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whole and untouched
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.
Lose sight
of why we're
guarding it, why
we're trying to, need to. Lose sight
of what the air tasted like back home.
We just lose.
Sandstorms kick up giant tornados
of dust, pebbles and sand
cutting silently across the burning concrete.
We stand
in their way,
constantly.
To keep busy
we tell
the same stories
so many times.
Now they dive out
of our mouths dropping weightlessly,
not even the strength to carry a wingbeat.
We barely believe ourselves anymore,
that's what we say.
Feb 26, 2016
Feb 26, 2016 at 1:36 PM UTC
Where heroes go I may not know
Nor dare I venture even guess
How any of the guilty rest
Within unending Hades woe
Yet wandering the shores of Styx
I’ve written tales of gallantry
Befitting none more valiantly
Resisting this infernal bliss
Still waiting for the veil to lift
On maenads vying for this verse
Compassion is my lover’s curse
To them my empathy a gift
But wicked thieves ensnare my heart
Still stained in shadow’s lyric ink
The instrumental missing link
Is little more than broken art
To after living’s parallel
Bemusing state ecstatic trance
Revealing after second glance
My spirit freed in Asphodel
Jan 16, 2018
Jan 16, 2018 at 1:52 AM UTC