"bonding" poems
Its interesting to be in a home so different than mine. A home where almost always two people at least are in the living room, bonding. My family I love, but we are always in our respective corners; father in the basement, brother in his room, mother in the living space, and I around randomly, uncertain where and who to belong with.
This weekend I visit Hockey House, the affectionate name I'm giving my boyfriend's home. I mean it full of affection, because they are brought together by movies and food and especially hockey.
In my home we are only brought together by food and then we run to the hills for our alone time. Very odd entirely, because of the extroversion holding my heart.
I guess as I grow, I find a disconnect with the family who is so different from me. My mother, though the easiest to be with, can be a staunch, stubborn hypocrite when it comes to all things social. My father is a determined conservative who opposes all I believe in. Brother is being molded into the man my father wants as his son, which is slowly distancing me from him.
When I'm home, I'm a repressed me, who keeps her tongue latched inside her mouth, and keeps her head down as to not get attacked. Even the natural peanut butter I asked for became a battlefield of who was right and who was wrong, not just a happy cheer for me being healthier.
Its odd in a house I've only been twice I can be less afraid than in my own home. I guess things change when you become the person you want to be instead of the adult your parents want to be proud of.
Maybe its easier here because I care less if they judge me, while my parents judgment terrifies me. Parents tend to be scary gods who rule your life, and to let them topple in your eyes is something all more traumatizing to watch.
I still love my parents, as children do, but there's a disconnect between who we are that cannot be passed.
Love can exist everywhere, but it cannot transcend all obstacles, and that, truly, is what terrifies me most.
I never want to lose my parents, but I cannot lose myself either.
Only time will tell, and I guess I'll just enjoy college and my times at Hockey House.
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 7:01 PM UTC
Someday, someday far away
when all the pain has passed
beyond the sea, the sun the stars
I'll find you...love...at last
Though raging storm
or cosmic ray
may tear my limbs apart
my love for you they cannot sway
for you possess my heart
Our Earthly lives hold many fears
remorseless in their quest
to break apart the bonding years
for which we've stood the test
Those precious times together
cocooned in love's embrace
a breathless bead upon my brow
that falls upon your face
Remember me my Angel's dream
as soon my life is through
for every sinew of my soul
belongs alone to you.
Mar 28, 2010
Mar 28, 2010 at 8:00 AM UTC
I was brought into this house
Ordered from the local furniture shop
Made to order according to specifications
I am a wingback,
Upholstered in full-grain leather
True to my rich heritage
I was placed in the library
Amongst the illustrious works of famous writers
Half- a - century have passed, providing support
To the backbone of the family
Although tired, he finds solace in my cozy embrace
I give him my wings to fly into the world of literature
Cervantes, Bunyan, Bacon, Goehte, Dostoevsky, Chekov, Tolstoy
Some of the names from the illustrious collection
Not all were privileged to have a seat here
He was transported to each era, savoring the rich legacy
Of literature down the centuries
I was privy to the mind-boggling debates
Which he conducted with himself
Trying to reason each work of literature
A mere wingback rose to be a companion
Providing sturdy support on the mahogany legs
One fine day the reading session ended in deep slumber
Five decades of bonding and companionship came to an end
Now, I stand here, forlorn, at the corner of the library
Reminiscing the reading sessions, and siesta
The wingback does not have the wings to fly away from this bond
© Amitav (Radiance)
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 2:35 PM UTC
Oh the fun we had as little six year olds,
Laughing loudly and acting crazy,
Staying up till the wee hours laying on the floor watching Hairspray
Oh the hyper times we had as ten year olds,
Sipping a little too much caffeine,
Running around acting like animals in the front yard
Oh the crazy times we had as twelve year olds,
Not afraid to get down and *****
Camping and sliding down dirt in the ravine
Oh the terrifying times we had as fourteen year olds,
Living together for a whole week,
Trying to **** each other with words shortly after
Oh the bonding times we had as fifteen year olds,
The darkest time in my life,
Where we cried and I knew we would always be friends
Oh the lively times we had as sixteen year olds,
Both getting our licenses,
Driving around everywhere just to take fun pictures
Oh the tiresome times we had as seventeen year olds,
Sitting in your car before school,
Ranting and laughing about every aspect of life
Oh the amazing times yet to come,
Attending college and growing older,
Still talking and ranting and laughing like every time before.
Dec 24, 2016
Dec 24, 2016 at 10:26 PM UTC
Searching your mind,
Revealing your soul.
A piece of my mind,
Making you whole.
The depths of your feelings,
Defines the depths I will go.
I know what I know,
Time for me to show,
How well though.
Like never before,
Here I go.
Persuading your body,
In so many ways,
You're powerless to evade,
The prowess of my ways.
Caressing your tenderness.
These moments your memory will replay;
Haunting parts of your body in a special way.
Reminiscent of this very day,
Our parts bonding as we lay.
Still influenced in ways you can't see,
Rather feel, so its as real as can be.
These unique pleasures bestowed upon you,
Impaling your reality with my point of view.
This abundance of energy; this vitality.
A reflection of you and me.
Enticing you mentally,
controlling you physically,
releasing you and me chemically.
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 12:53 AM UTC
Seasons pass, tempered by insalubrious fervor; treasonous design remiss of fate
An echo of prior songs resonate somber atrophy; mourn the passing of constant defeat, stained by triumphant dissonance and disdain
Fear strides along the broken path, left alone and solemn and crass: Through sour feats of vindication, tones of plight become dismissed
Surfeit, the sound of temptation rides upon the crest of dawn, blinding darkness like calming waves caressing infinite stretches of sand: soft and warm; kind and welcoming, embracing in its gentle touch
Sentience hides behind a creeping fog, whispering secrets of life eternal, bearing gifts wrought through sensuous candor
Two threads lost, now found; slowly bonding, uniting purpose, rhythm, rhyme, and reason; born from the same cloth, garnering habit, singing in harmony what echoes from within
Beautiful, intelligent, staunch with profundity; stark, handsome, wholesome, and good
The call of a true home may finally beckon..
Dec 13, 2017
Dec 13, 2017 at 2:08 AM UTC
.
Come! Come! One and all,
come to my woodland hall,
attend ye all mid-winters ball,
in friendship harken to my call.
Paths awash with candle light,
in the branches burning bright,
such an enchanting magical sight,
to guide you gentle through the night.
Friends with whom to drink and eat,
cuddled warm in a sylvan heat,
while dancers fling to keep the beat,
songs are sung, lovers meet.
And by a fire in a little glade,
words are spoken, promises made,
the Bonding tree with hearts displayed,
brings memories that will never fade.
.
*And when the party is at an end
I'll lovingly embrace my dearest friend,
and quieter than what lies beneath,
whisper sweet poetry to my Lady Leaf.*
© Pagan Paul (04/10/17)
Oct 4, 2017
Oct 4, 2017 at 10:47 AM UTC
Happenstance to the melancholic gives leave the sin of pride.
Inbound reconnaissance tells not the bearer of influence.
Squeamish at first: a foreshadowing of calamitous bonding.
A space between the mark of corporeal and the ethereal; a stringent hiatus
That which rattles the concrete foundation of morality is scarcely a malleable recourse.
Regret stains the unfounded soul: an enigma of ephemeral perforations.
A separation of the unmitigated humanities; misandry topples the writhing snake.
Impact; a cleansing of the maker's flaws integrated solemnly.
Complacency arrests the administration of the abhorred; unbridled is the autonomy of a guru.
Ambivalent giftedness burdens the reliant and haughty.
A flick of the tongue brings forth the cinema mortem.
Castaway: alone to wade in the sea of obscenities.
A temporal causality allows no mourning to abscond.
Negligence is not the enemy, but indulgent wrath.
Hesitant: a stroke of qualia begets the end of a maiden.
Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 11:13 AM UTC
Didn't even have ***
He used merely his hands
and I felt my body sinking
into quick sand.
It usually feels good, almost never feels right. However; this wasn't the case that night. It felt so good that it gave me a fright and although it was wrong,
It still felt very right.
He had my insides twisted and my legs shaking and in that moment I felt my heart un-breaking.
****** healing is really a thing,
Bonding physically
with your spiritual being.
I'll remember the feeling,
The peace that it brings,
I felt just as much release as
I do when I sing.
kd
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 2:38 PM UTC
i begin to arise
looking over into your gaze
so that i can feel you
breathless and shaken
with joy in your eyes
thirst overtaking the impulse
to feel how strong this love is
rubbing your skin
exposes the warm static throughout
im left without air
asphyxiating for pleasure
head rushing
groaning your name
please keep going
you keep our skin vibrating
and purging the toxicity of the world from us
taking in only me
you can feel my pulse
radiate from your sacral place
with you gushing out
like the words it takes to tell you
that i love you
and want to fill the empty spaces within
for a moment
i feel like we’ve become one
our bodies sing
heavenly tones echo within the confines of this home
with archangels watching over
as we fulfill our celestial fate
Sep 28, 2020
Sep 28, 2020 at 11:30 AM UTC
Words upon words spoke in a rapid manner
I listen to him spit out physics
Intelligent, stunning, confusing, and funny
He rambles on about these numbers.
A calculation for this,
A theory for that.
It can explain everything he claims
Science,
It can always be broken down to a science.
I hold on to his every word, and just wonder what equation
Can tell me how he feels.
What does he want
What does he need?
Will he ever have an interest...an interest in me?
I don't mean to sound nerdy
I don't mean to sound cliche
But I believe there is chemistry between us
Our minds are bonding.
Sadly there is no science behind the human emotion.
So I will wait
And try to analyze this boy myself.
Jan 9, 2013
Jan 9, 2013 at 8:15 PM UTC
No reason to be precious about it,
it's best to just be blunt,
she's got a helluva ****
I could wax poetic, swooning like a
love-drunk boy, but what's the point?
Sharing, expressing, defining the spell
is futile. *** with her is like
dancing with god.
Finally, at fifty, I feel the
vibration of lovesongs.
Not in my ears, deeper than any sense can taste.
Lost for hours in life, in bonding; finally
knowing the only knowledge worth knowing
She teaches by just being.
Responding, absorbing, inspiring,
implanting new sensations and
bringing me out of me.
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 9:42 PM UTC
You shouldn't feel butterflies in your stomach when you see him. When you love a person you should find them calming.
The way I see you with your hair up and no make up and no bra but your shirts still on... I would call that comfort in each other.
The intimate conversations we had made you feel more than any boys hands.
The unsuspecting pictures and my boring little lectures and us bonding over laundry was a sure sign of connection and there was never any tension.
And the truth is I hate to see you worrying about some dumb kid who doesn't care about you as much or more than I do but,
I'm not saying be in love with me,
I'm saying I hold your heart
the way he holds your hand.
Apr 26, 2016
Apr 26, 2016 at 6:38 PM UTC
I don't think in going against anyone all I want is to be happy. I've found love in doing things even though others hate on me or judge. I haven't been writing but it kept calling me to do so!
I think about how I stick my neck our and get ******* over but that's got to change. I don't hang out with many ppl but the ones who are their for me I truly appreciate. I BBQ'd on Friday ppl like the grub so that made my day, I practiced with my cousin I help her get better with get softball skills. We could play all day but she got tired it was a change of pace.
I enjoyed wrestlemania my cousin and I had fun bonding with one another. We watched classic cartoons from our childhood. Life's good I'm avoiding the ppl who **** me off and don't do anything for me and have the nerve to be judging me.
I'm enjoying classic music I got myself a chuck berry album. I want to get ray Charles next! I watch YouTube videos for music
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 2:19 AM UTC
Where I’m From
I am from wires,
from electricity and TV screens.
I am from the dust covering the console.
(Piled high, thick,
It made me sneeze)
I am from the Sega Genesis
the Nintendo
Who has long been forgotten
amongst the shiny new games.
I am from controllers and memory cards,
From Mario and Sonic.
I’m from the hard core gamers,
And the once-in-a-whiles,
From You win! And Game over!
I’m from Thou saveth the princess
With Donkey and Diddy
And 10 cheats I know by heart.
I’m from GameStop and Best Buy,
brand new plastic and overheating console.
From the controller thrown across the room
To the memories,
bonding brother and sister.
In my closet is a box,
filled with old games,
scratched up discs
that will never again work
I am from these games
created before I was born,
born from the tree of electronics.
Apr 20, 2010
Apr 20, 2010 at 4:33 PM UTC
To make love is a wonderful thing.
An irreplaceable feeling of sheer ecstasy.
A man and a woman sharing their very souls.
An emotionally charged volcano with an eruption of love.
Literally a bonding of mind, body, and soul.
And, quite simply, emotions in motion.
May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 4:07 PM UTC
It's the start of the school
year and everyone's
milling about
socializing
Water particles
Milling about
forming
and breaking
hydrogen bonds
There's a group of
new kids,
awkwardly standing
off to the side
A large crystal
of salt
is dumped among
the
water
Some of the old kids
start milling
over pulling
new kids
into
their friend
groups
The water starts
bonding with
individual
ions of salt
positive with negative
negative with positive
pulling them
away
to form
bonds
Eventually all the
new kids are
incorporated into
friend groups
The lattice of salt
is broken apart
...
And all the individual ions
are surrounded
by
new
friends
Known as H2O
Oct 2, 2018
Oct 2, 2018 at 7:23 PM UTC
*Bonding beneath a Bloodmoon
Stuttering starlight of June
Waves that trace a salted line
Ever-changing sand with time
A loon calls from afar
As the wind responds in kind
Whispering wonders of the stars
Projecting our peace of mind
Bodies shrouded in darkness
If not for the afterglows
Speaking words in silence
Ruby kisses on the nose
Two silhouettes on the horizon
A glorious, glistening red
With nimble waves to guide them
They'll continue to forge ahead*
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 6:56 PM UTC
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Infinity's Mirror by Nat Lipstadt
Two mirrors, set in opposition observe created notional blending,
a reflecting pool of bonding's of unglued, contrary compositions.
Mirror to mirror, his imagery, fuses to Sylvia's images, hers,
faintly recollected, now living face, face to face, with his past insurrections, alters his future visions.
From cold water lake she's drawn, impaled by refracting regrets,
retrieved, drawing her words upon him, an awakening slap to drink,
beloved, tragic magic, infinitely captive. But this old man's tiddlywinks, land-locked words, blunted instruments, needy for release & salvation, are neither silvered or exacting, just stains on a dulled, tarnished brass spittoon, except for the brunt'd bunting of lines across his roughened terrain'd face, black and white, pen and ink etched illustration of howling agitation.
His words worn down, hardened, red faced, purloined speckled pellets, damp to roll on down her rutted, almost ancient, tear streak paths, disbelieved superstitions, sacrificed for one of her living morsels of words.
Man, here to her, pledges allegiance, audaciously defiling her poetic sanctity, a visage endless repeated, delivers her shiny poem-poised countenance, even though no forgiveness from time can a mirror afford for either, from her words, confession born, terrible truths beyond, beyond the finite.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mirror by Sylvia Plath
I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
What ever you see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful---
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is a part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.
Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me,
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.
Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 4:17 PM UTC
Friends are like glue;
It's always so exciting
when they're brand new
and exactly what I needed
to put something together.
Then when it's completed
they find new ways
to stick around
day after day
until life starts
demanding so much
that more time is spent apart.
Though I had tried to be careful,
I seem to still find them everywhere,
but it really only takes a few minutes of drowning them in water to fix that problem.
Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 3:40 AM UTC
If reached beside the pearly cradled rose
therein a rattling joy; o' stillborn child.
What uttered mine - unsaid angelic prose,
should passing lay my husk and essence wild?
Awaiting yonder womb were tepid wings;
inflamed with bonding warmth of kinship love,
like softly feathered pads and rocking swings
then ardent glows, as seen and known above.
The wailing babe is music sung and sought,
for more a sleepless dusk - had since apart.
For eyes which never opened wide were wrought
and taken here and strolled in golden cart.
Should words in amber fail and infant pine,
behold the spectrums soul, the same as mine.
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 2:50 PM UTC
Across the oceans so far from home
Anxious to see what comes your way
Overwhelmed by a culture you've never known
Mustering up courage to face a new day
Foreign eyes present a mystery
Searching every corner for kindness
Desperate desires to run and flee
But this opportunity you cannot miss
Teamwork and bonding
In bright faces you find comfort
A new place for more loving
It doesn't feel like work
Sweat blood and tears
Open arms so welcoming
No longer any fears
It feels so good to be helping
A new perspective on what it means to be alive
How can a people with so little give so much?
Pura Vida a motto to keep love in the light
Now forever your heart will be touched
Butterfly kisses in the morning rain
Make you want to do it all over again
These Ticos' kind hearts will never bring pain
Merely the fullest life and no need for shame
Many of Earth's citizens don't know how to live well
Peace and love is not a flowing thought
War and hunger gets caught in the swell
Struggling when the meaning of life is forgot
So when the sky is crying
And the world feels strange
Place your enlightened ear to your shell
And rise as a leader to be the change.
Feb 12, 2013
Feb 12, 2013 at 3:23 AM UTC
Early morning comes too soon.
Fish are biting by the moon.
Father and son make their way
Out of the house to meet the day.
The men of the house are outward bound
Seeking their fortune on the water sound.
Fishing poles and tackle boxes in hand
Off they go, to the dock to be manned.
Eyes gleaming bright, with the wind in his hair,
My son grins wide, and says, "Dad, Look There!"
Sure enough my son sees, fish to be caught,
Their trip is promising, will not be for naught.
His father smiles at the look from his son,
Saying, "Yes, son, you've found them, quite well done."
Bringing their boat to a stop they let glide,
Unpack their equiment, and come along side.
Taking their time and setting their hooks,
Plenty of fish here, judging by the looks.
There's sunfish and carp, some salmon and trout,
Walleye and crappie, and catfish so stout.
As the sun rises higher, they reel those fish in.
There's plenty of fish, with tail and fin.
The father and son are laughing together.
Can't believe their luck, or such perfect weather.
Returning home from a long day of fun,
They unload their catch and in they run.
Fish stories abound, They can't say enough,
The fish they missed, get bigger and rough.
I watch my two men, with quiet delight.
Enjoying the warmth, they create in my sight
Fishing is fun, fishing is great,
My men bonding, makes my heart elate.
Aug 28, 2010
Aug 28, 2010 at 11:30 AM UTC
Hey I’m really sorry you feel this way
Nobody should feel the way you say you do
You’re an amazing person
I’ve been telling you this a lot lately
Ever since the night on the Ferris Wheel
Cliche I know right and even though
you were freaking out most of the ride
We had a bonding moment
I might’ve not held you in my arms (ha)
But I feel closer to you dude
Heck you’re the first person I told about
the crazy event happening in my life right now
Your advice is always good so don’t doubt yourself for a second
I’m really glad we’ve re-build our bond
And I appreciate you at lot
Jun 20, 2018
Jun 20, 2018 at 11:51 PM UTC