"boomerangs" poems
12-17-2013
The constant chatter
lowly, gathering attentions
apprehension--that's the matter
thoughts are shattered
the noise: rushing, crushing, bustling in
and flushing out all rationale
growing louder, shouting over morale
and one who can no
control it, cowers, trying hard not to
a persevering temperament, one
who silences the sounds of increasing volume
madness boomerangs again;
pain returns once again.
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 2:49 AM UTC
Spring comes little, a little. All April it rains.
The new leaves stick in their fists; new ferns still fiddleheads.
But one day the swifts are back. Face to the sun like a child
You shout, 'The swifts are back!'
Sure enough, bolt nocks bow to carry one sky-scyther
Two hundred miles an hour across fullblown windfields.
Swereee swereee. Another. And another.
It's the cut air falling in shrieks on our chimneys and roofs.
The next day, a fleet of high crosses cruises in ether.
These are the air pilgrims, pilots of air rivers.
But a shift of wing, and they're earth-skimmers, daggers
Skilful in guiding the throw of themselves away from themselves.
Quick flutter, a scimitar upsweep, out of danger of touch, for
Earth is forbidden to them, water's forbidden to them,
All air and fire, little owlish ascetics, they outfly storms,
They rush to the pillars of altitude, the thermal fountains.
Here is a legend of swifts, a parable —
When the Great Raven bent over earth to create the birds,
The swifts were ungrateful. They were small muddy things
Like shoes, with long legs and short wings,
So they took themselves off to the mountains to sulk.
And they stayed there. 'Well,' said the Raven, after years of this,
'I will give you the sky. You can have the whole sky
On condition that you give up rest.'
'Yes, yes,' screamed the swifts, 'We abhor rest.
We detest the filth of growth, the sweat of sleep,
Soft nests in the wet fields, slimehold of worms.
Let us be free, be air!'
So the Raven took their legs and bound them into their bodies.
He bent their wings like boomerangs, honed them like knives.
He streamlined their feathers and stripped them of velvet.
Then he released them, Never to Return
Inscribed on their feet and wings. And so
We have swifts, though in reality, not parables but
Bolts in the world's need: swift
Swifts, not in punishment, not in ecstasy, simply
Sleepers over oceans in the mill of the world's breathing.
The grace to say they live in another firmament.
A way to say the miracle will not occur,
And watch the miracle.
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 1:59 PM UTC
° /sshharp/
° You, sharppened your knives
° Bullets ready, what's the point?
° Arrows pointing back like boomerangs
° **** words darting hollow places
° Me, framed in zebra circles
° You, lost between these pointless races
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 9:36 AM UTC
Mother, I won't go to America
I don't want to work the desk job in the high-rise
at the edge of the city, waking the nights nesting code.
Mother, I can't buy you the dream home.
This is how I am. This is who I've become.
I weave a nest for the birds of dreams
to roost in my soul. I'm a poet. I'm peregrine.
When I come home, can I sit by your side
and not talk? Not talk of marriage and children
and property and bank balance?
I folded my kites up and my boomerangs
and studied the nights. The glass filings
on the manja cut sores in my heart but I succeeded,
through university and adversity.
But this is who I am: a poet.
I weave a fabric and print tales of shadow and light.
Here, they come to roost, the birds peregrine.
I don't come home to eat what you cook.
I don't come home to hear about struggles and
disappointments. Yes I have failed in some sense.
But there is so much to say that is better said unsaid.
But this is who I am: a poet. I'm peregrine.
Can I just come home and sit by your side at sunset?
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 7:29 AM UTC
1. I don't even know how to start this letter. Something within me just had enough courage to.
2. I always imagined this would happen without warning.
3. I know how much you hate reading, but can you at least read this.
4. I wish I could have been more honest with you. I should have never bottled up my emotions; now look at me, I'm a mess.
5. Can you laugh at my joke one more time? I really like the way your cheeks puff up and blush pink.
6. Have I ever told you that you have a nice smile?
7. Let's go to the park, I want to see the sunset before I go.
8. Thank you so much for spamming me memes at 3am.
9. I've been saving money for a special event, I'm doubting you'll like it.
10. When I was 11, on Halloween I finally gathered everything I needed in order to be Batman. Rope, blades and boomerangs. I kept them in a box just in case if I needed to use them in the future.
11. I came home on Sunday and found your favorite black scarf. I wore it tightly around my neck; I can feel your warmth, it even smells like you.
12. How can something you love so mush just disappear right in front of your eyes.
13. I can show you how we can be together forever. But it'll take more time for you.
14. I bought you your favorite ice cream, cookies and cream. I left it in the freezer. But remember, when it melts, I won't be there to clean it up for you.
15. Don't worry, I'll try harder next time.
16. You don't need to make me your famous mashed potatoes and gravy. I'll be out of town. But oh man, I'll sure miss eating that.
17. I love you more than you'll ever know. But I'm not sorry.
18. You don't have to bring flowers, I don't want them to set off your allergies.
Jul 18, 2019
Jul 18, 2019 at 7:00 PM UTC
Boomerangs come back when thrown,
not the people you've hurt.
-mosqutioism
06.06.2014
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 3:56 PM UTC
I haven’t always been the best lover, daughter, sister, relative, friend, coworker, student, individual. But my intentions, for the most part, have always been good. My heart is many things; conflicted, light, heavy, dizzy, a transcontinental road map, oozing liquid, electric, pure. Kind and pure. I can't confidently say that about many of me, but of this one thing I am sure. In my lifetime I've positioned myself to be the one who gets hurt and not be the one to cause it. But taking it for how it is, it doesn’t always work out that way. It rarely, actually, has ever or will ever work out that way, not always at least.
I’ve hurt you, and I’m sorry. I’ve broken you, parts of you, and I’m sorry. I’ve let you down before, and I’m sorry. You have hurt me, and I forgive you. My heart is broken, but I do not hold it against you. You’ve let me down, and it’s okay. This is the part of existing we didn't sign up for. Yes, I realize the whole "sign up for" analogy is ****** and weak, I can do better than that, I know. But it's just, what I'm trying to get at here is that this is the part of being I am no longer wrecking myself over trying to understand anymore. We are fleshed boomerangs of disdain and consolation, martyr and martyred, antonym and synonym. Take me for who I am and who I have the potential to be. Take you for who you are and your potential just the same, resent and mend, just the same. Let go of your expectations, take it for how it is.
Sep 3, 2016
Sep 3, 2016 at 2:26 PM UTC
Welcome.
To the Age of major gains,
But no progress.
Abundant selfies,
But harshly any selflessness.
Delectable boomerangs of delicious dinners,
While many suffer starving in foreign winters.
Will
Likes
Hearts
Views
And
Shares
Become the end-all-be-all of the winners?
Chicken Dinner
Chicken Dinner
Chicken
Dinner
C
H
I R
C E
K N
E N
N I
D
Apr 25, 2018
Apr 25, 2018 at 5:57 PM UTC
antioxidants, to help
we are poisoning ourselves with every breath
the records in the corner
crumbling underneath the dust in their crates
crunchy warm voices bounce off the sunrise
spinning around and crashing like cymbals
mist at 7 am and a cup of black coffee with two teaspoons of sugar
far away from life
in a corner, under a desk
all my friends want to be cool
i want to hide and be happy in a field
with a mug of steamed milk, with a sweet person
who tells me many things that make me smile
and query, and discuss
they will be the kind of person
i would braid my hair around
when i was listening intently, who would interrupt
themselves to point out a bird startling
and spreading it's wings
or how beautiful winter is under the surface of the sadness
how death is somehow majestic, in the way that
the earth can bring itself back to life after it has lain still and alone
for many months, she can still yield all the possibilities
of fruits in spring
he seemed confused by this idea
i was not upset by this
i was just a bit melancholy but not because of him
because of everything around us
he sees it as cold and uncomfortable
he doesn't understand why i walk outside every night
to teach my body to acclimate to the conditions, this winter
so i can accept it and become it without freezing over inside
and learn to love it as much as the warmth
he rolls his eyes, they all do, they roll their eyes and turn away
and ask why i don't put on more layers instead
why not three sweaters instead of one
why not fight it more, to keep your last skin thin and flawless
i only have one left, i dunno
one skin left, have to get it weathered quickly
before life boomerangs back
this skin is careless and has nothing left to care about
she laughs until she's crying and holding her belly
and she doesn't feel anything but tightening
everything is corroding us from the inside out already
i want to at least breathe in the direction of the moon
once a night
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 12:05 PM UTC
Where are you in this midnight sky?
as not too long from here
your lips grazed mine
Chanel Rouge Allure ever lasting
remains.
I still have traces of
tram marks left by
Vamp Rouge Noir nails and
I trace your soul on each
& every scratch.
You winked as you left
you said in such guileful ways
you must know
I always come back
you just never know
how long it'll be.
For as predictable as
we are - a pair of boomerangs
knowing we'll always be
reunified by powers far greater
than us -
we never know when or how,
even why.
Where are you in this midnight sky?
if I count the times
my missing you is felt,
it's as futile as
******* for virginity.*
The mere distance between
you & I -untangible, immeasurable.
For as long as our souls
inevitably bounce back,
that time, that space in
star filled nights
& crescent moon skies
become a vacuum of all
lost or loved.
Every time we meet our
halogen balloon hearts
*rise
rise
rise*
&
in a time span unfathomable
sinking
Velociously.
© Sia Jane
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 8:48 PM UTC
*Like cause and effect...
What goes around comes around...
Just like boomerangs!*
© Raphael Uzor
Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 5:53 AM UTC
linear constellations
publish prophecies
bereft of precision
birthing brand new eyes
like boomerangs they oscillate
across nimble currents
though once momentum surmounted
factualism had begun to trickle
May 16, 2012
May 16, 2012 at 4:13 PM UTC
This is not love
It is not even close
The routine
Is always the same
His use of language as a weapon
How his words know the exact places to hit
Boomerangs against the knees
Knocking you down into submission
He knows all of the right phrases
To color you invisible
Dissolve you into his hands
Purple and blue are only meant for the sky
So you rename yourself sunset
His palms against your skin
Are unforgiving in their contact
Grabbing and shaking
Cowering and pleading
His touch is never apologetic
But he always is
Swear his love
Begs for forgiveness
And promises to never do it again
You believe him
Every single time
His sorry is a silk tied noose
Deceiving in its softness
Wrapped around your neck gently
You forget that capability
Has nothing to do with appearance
That the most dangerous things
Are often dressed as gentle
Love and hurt
Are both four-letter words
But they are not meant
To be interchangeable
They do not teach you this
In grade school
Movies made it seem pretty
And desirable
To attach yourself to ticking time bomb
To crave something so volatile
But it is not pretty
To have to worry about
Doing everything correctly
For fear of not pleasing
One wrong action
Makes you a guillotine
And you would still manage
To blame yourself
For the beheading
This is not love
It is the farthest thing from
But one day you will find it
You will know when you have
When he takes his time
And listens with patience
You will know it
When his hands don't invoke flinching
His rough callus only knowing tender
And lips are reserved for kissing
You will know it
When the dull ache disappears
And there is no longer a sting
To follow
And you will say
To yourself
“This is love
That is exactly
What this is.”
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 2:44 PM UTC
I'm wrapped around your pillow
my bare skin a magnet
to your presence - even
your smile must suffice
the one you left this afternoon
as I breathe you in - your scent
is the Braille I use to read
your heart
my eyes remain closed
my thoughts only deepened
by the pictures my soul paints
in your absence
the soft curves of the pillow
I imagine to be your body, and
I fold myself into you
our bodies fit, missing links of self
marry each others souls
and I have to believe we
must have been parted when
the Big Bang pulled everything away
from themselves -
we're both fragments of God's Universe
we're stardust particles with
a gravitational pull, always
insisting we're to be drawn
together
our bodies morph into one another
pieces of the same picture
the force stuns me - vertigo
we're no different than boomerangs
crashing back into each others lives
every time
we part.
© Sia Jane
Jul 16, 2015
Jul 16, 2015 at 6:15 PM UTC
Heart sifting hollow
Brimming the mind with evil whispers
Screams bellow from the shadows
The forsaken soul bound by chains chokes on the ashes of passion
Nestled under a blanket of compassion's charred remains
Awaiting death.
A shimmer of starlight casts upon the shadow...
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 1:54 PM UTC
I could still recall how gently I held your seed
and brought you to your bed.
There a drop of sweat from this forehead
joyously mingled with some grains of your soil.
I lay you there and saw the approval of the sun
as he sent his warmth reflected on your cheerful coating.
You lay down restfully on your life bed
And I dreamed…
You rose with your sturdy trunk
so robust with pride that your neighboring flagpole
felt intimated by your presence.
They sang him hymns
they bowed at him with their hearts
while you humbly stood there
swaying your greens, reaching atop, conquering the scorches of your sun
so that they, underneath remain unharmed, unscorched, unsoaked.
Soon you bore velvety fruits that the young munched as well as the old
On lazy days you gave them games of soccers and boomerangs,
and tennis, and catches and fetches.
On moonlights, you appeared to be a violinist
as the lovers kissed under your warm company.
You were the silent listener to the broken hearts
when you offered your comforting barks as a shoulder
till they cried and wept
till they breathed and smiled once again.
You had a way with humans who slouch under your shade
You hummed serenades that only your chirping friends
and fluttering colorflies hear and together
you created an orchestra harmonizing songs of friendship, of peace, of love.
I saw you arise and write down histories on to your memory—
how you tried to reach for the graduates’ caps in the air,
how spirited you applauded for great speeches on that podium
but no one ever noticed.
I saw you sway your branches gracefully as the marching band went
boom-boom, tug-tug, and kling-klang.
It was your favorite part of the day.
So many times you bore witness to silly fights
of the young and the old too,
but most often you saw these creatures
make peace at dusk.
There I saw you in eternity.
There I saw you to be forever standing tall on your life bed.
Then I heard the hellish rumble of their chainsaw,
the shrill reverberation piercing through this feeble core
as they ruthlessly cut your body.
I could not afford to watch you being slain.
You are my life.
Your death is my death.
Jun 2, 2023
Jun 2, 2023 at 10:20 AM UTC
You throw your words like a boomerang.
Expecting it not to come back, it will, in fact,
Yet for every word you try and throw, the **** thing comes back faster than the first, with a burst of speed, like hatred you feed, things come and go till you're drained and you're bleeding...
Your words will come back to you...and typically when you're not prepared...
Every promise
Every declaration
Every compliment
Insult
Curse
Threat...
They come back and with the amount of force you're throwing that boomerang, I should probably call an ambulance, cop, and a lawyer...you're going to need a memorial.
Moral of the story, don't throw the boomerang if you don't plan on catching it...cause that **** will thwack you on the head...and it will hurt...and you will die. And I won't even try to cry.
Jun 23, 2018
Jun 23, 2018 at 8:54 AM UTC
A declaration of outright war,
followed her through the egg-white door.
Courage bellowed to hold the line,
but Fear already crept in behind...
I think Boldness ran first;
Wit just froze, likely to burst.
Bravery scampered close behind;
Their rapid retreat was well-designed.
Pride nailed my tongue to my teeth,
Fear breathed a sigh of relief.
Scorn decided she wasn't worth it
Seeing that she's less than perfect.
Apathy quipped, though a little tongue-in-cheek,
It was really he who had made me so weak.
"But enough of all this idle chatter,
after all, it doesn't really matter."
Of course, Pride would have none of this,
and began to expound on why he must exist.
Scorn simply sneered, Fear again panicked,
Apathy yawned, the Insecurity team was frantic.
The chaos of war crashed and clanged
Emotions surged like boomerangs,
But the arguring ceased and the silence broke,
when Courage stood, and Bravery spoke.
Feb 24, 2018
Feb 24, 2018 at 8:57 AM UTC
i swear by revenge baby
i swear by my mother's death:
it's over now
i know what he did to
you
i know about your story
i know about your worries
baby
i am going to be with
you
i am going to stay close
will never leave you
like boomerangs
you get me?
he'll never be hurting
you again
we'll be leading a
white bread life in order to
disappear
but never be gone
never gone
baby
i know what he did to
you
you and me
female and female
male and female
male and male
are going to eliminate him
his head will bust and his giblets will splatter
against the wall
and i swear baby
because i love you so much baby
this paint will be our
luxury
**** louis vuitton what
we need is
REVENGE
feel me?
let's do it
be wit me
i'm never going to leave you i
swear by revenge
swear by the death of my mother
don't you assume i
haven't been suffering
been drinking gallons of milk against
pyrosis
ain't only *****
believe me
don't you assume i
haven't been suffering
it's our time.
now.
get me?
Nov 17, 2019
Nov 17, 2019 at 4:32 PM UTC
What comes from a good place
needs no answers
questions are boomerangs
returning to you
go find your happy
Mar 11, 2022
Mar 11, 2022 at 8:41 PM UTC
maybe our happily-ever-after
is that we reconnected after everything
after you hurt me and i scorned you
we came back to each other like
we were one another's boomerangs
finally coming back around after bring thrown away.
(i wish our story ended
a little more like a fairy tale
with us back in each other's arms
proclaiming the other home
but, my love, our lives have never been
that simple
or that sweet,
have they?)
May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 12:05 AM UTC