"breezily" poems
you know exactly what you
are doing
to me
every day, of every week,
us at work
together,
knowing so little of each other,
you tease
me with the breezily
brush
of your billowy blouse,
brushed
by your sweet, soft-sleek
breast
against my arm or shoulder or back,
against me
brushing
-knowing that you do this
just to see me
blushing
just to laugh it off
in passing
as my stiff *******
belie my casual, response
my hard to stifle sigh
when you
brush
me.
-By Alexandra Eames
Aug 4, 2020
Aug 4, 2020 at 8:56 AM UTC
Who is this person that I’m living alongside;
I don’t mean my girl; I mean myself.
Is there an alter with impeccable timing to hide;
a thought I think and feeling I’ve always felt.
She digs her hands into my armored flesh,
the areas I reassured could pass each test.
Instead of titanium she sees it’s made of mesh,
“I’m sorry that I’m not the best of best.”
We watched our house burn down
watched the last ember hit the ground.
I place missing posters of myself around town;
truth is I don’t care if I get found.
“A pox on your house,
you ****** knockout mouse.”
On your clean white blouse;
gasoline has been doused.
I wrongly take the blame,
and they keep saying it’s my name.
Isn’t it a shame how bad blood boils all the same?
Sometimes I feel like I’m presented as an open book,
with torn out pages and a cracked spine.
On full display but no one even stops to take a look,
missing the hidden message in each line.
We shoot the **** so incredibly breezily
but I’m reminded that I bruise very easily,
so I find a way to tap out without anyone noticing.
But it’s done just too feebly.
Burned bridges and scorched earth,
my decision to cover with AstroTurf.
Taking lives instead of giving birth,
and I’ll only strive to make it worse.
“A pox on your house,
you ****** knockout mouse.”
“The screams and the shouts
show us what you’re about.”
The beast I try to tame,
but can hardly even maim.
Isn’t it a shame how bad blood boils all the same?
I have this habit of never learning my lesson
and sometimes almost crashing my car.
It’d be tragic or it could be a hidden blessin’
what’s another addition of a scar?
“A pox on your house,
you ****** knockout mouse”
“We’ll turn you into scouse,
you ****** knockout mouse.”
“A pox on your house,
but not on your spouse.”
At least they aren’t that rouse.
“A pox on your house,
you ****** knockout mouse.”
On your clean white blouse;
gasoline has been doused.
I wrongly take the blame,
and they keep saying it’s my name.
Isn’t it a shame how bad blood boils all the same?
Sep 4, 2025
Sep 4, 2025 at 3:47 PM UTC
On a bogus hill, a man stood
in self defence and shot himself,
clean through the heart of the white
flag that hung breezily around his
neck, like a neckerchief in situ
A calm reverence, self awareness,
had positioned itself, 'enough' shone
in the deaf hours before daylight begs,
dislodging sad meanings from
ungrateful dictionaries.
You bought words, they lead you,
rocked a changed lullaby....au revoir,
checking the white flag of departure,
arrival of metal, red bled wounds,
flag swaying, stained under surrender
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 8:00 AM UTC
Soft skin
And fluffy hair
His personality
Rare
A boy I barely knew
Lost in his own world
Found himself in his writing
Picked up his pen
And the words flew
Black and white comes too easily
Forgets to see past his shadow
I try and remind Tiempo
When Fate has time
A friend made
Not so breezily
Curls and deep thoughts
Late night poems sent
Back and forth
I’m thankful for my poet friend
God-send?
Let’s begin.
Dec 18, 2021
Dec 18, 2021 at 2:23 AM UTC
My words are translated Aramaic
to your tender divinity,
a slurred expression of
time immemorial.
Satan visited me profusely
under the guise of
mistrodden eloquence.
(i can't breathe in this.)
There was a time when
constraints defied my
powers like kryptonite,
when my head was lopped
and guarded with gold eyes.
(i don't like wearing your mask.)
(Have you seen mine lately?)
Some days distant on the cold
snow banks, laughing
breezily at easy disjuncture
and spending the better part
of this existence trying to
bleed my fingers dry,
(We are the finest musicians
you have never heard of.)
a disheartening side project
placed upon a stone altar.
(Did you know i was an Aztec slave?)
Complacent and supple we have
lined up longingly for our visions,
but i am next, i am the
lamb, the ambrosia-slicked
path to zen.
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 9:12 AM UTC
Look at the stars
Spinning, coursing lightweight
Through the blackness,
Like ice-coated spiders
Floating gentle, softly interweaving
Cloud and hovering nearly near enough
To be captured by your tiny hands.
It seems all so easy
To stay here mentally forever.
Look at the stars
Drifting magnetically, childlike
In their path. Lost and dreamy,
An image separated from a cause;
Heavenly blessings as they drop close enough
To kiss the roses,
Breezily hoping to rest frozen
'Neath the nest of your tired skin;
Lazily watching the night transition
As others must've all those nights before--
When you were too busy to pay them any mind.
These stars map a codex that laughs at you
While you're fixed to the ground and forced to look
beautiful.
These stars sing of the dead. Muses without a voice
Or lives to any longer be lead. The stars dream
Silently of you, patiently nibbling at your breath,
Looking forward to the day they can absorb your
smiling teeth.
The stars hold your spirit and you theirs,
Both constant and unremarkabley dull--
The stars did not ask to be beautiful,
We made them that way. The stars
And you are one, in as much a way as polar opposites
Can be one.
You and the stars, making your fates as you go along...
You and the stars: unintentional twin sisters left astray.
You and the stars: two blind men unravelling an exquiste corpse.
You and the stars: two pawns beating helpless in awe of their sojourn.
You and the stars: complimenting the other like sand does glass.
You and the stars: in awe of each other and the rainwater that
preludes
The moment.
You are the stars, you are the dreamer, you are the observer,
You are the life that has been given life in order to give it back
Sing softly now and lullaby the stars asleep,
Like the son does after growing old for his dying mother,
Like the summer leaves do when their boughs start to snap.
Sing softly for the stars that remind you of whence
Once you were nothing
But a hypnotised lantern
Wandering the endless black.
You and the stars, connect them
even when they appear as aimless
anxious dots.
Form a shape out of the stars; encarve
And embody the flesh of your own constellation.
Nov 14, 2019
Nov 14, 2019 at 11:43 PM UTC
As black as my birdlover poet's pen ink
Coal black as every poet's ink, hue upon hue
a rook and a raven flew flew flew
as the wind it breezily blew blew blew
And blustery became the view, view, view
An albatross then gracefully took to the air
and for hours it seemed to linger there
Then we saw magpies rise unto the skies
As well as a kestrel soar with such flying flair
Bright toucans and brown falcons too fly and glide
So many wings fill up God's wide skyline
All such avians rise and shine with 'flying colours'.
Their flight enabled and powered by divine powers
O' birds of flight your secrets tell
and if you know which of us
had end up in heaven or hell?
For isn't all is well that ends well.
Lets pray there ain't hell's murk
but Eden's light
at the end of the tunnel!
Aug 29, 2022
Aug 29, 2022 at 4:45 AM UTC
I moved closer though never over no charge just credit
You jaune pourpre couleur & calculated in two points like Magic
We mind bleu as you pirouette through D waters sea
Breezily done
& one
They called Lakers cuz da Walk On um
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 7:16 PM UTC
for forty years
the story has been told
of the eerie lights
doing their nightly patrol
along the disused airstrip
at the property known as Montana
those who've witnessed them
are frightened
by their chilling appearance
are the lights
of spirits
wishing to be free
or are they all
something imaginary
Toby is a man
of honesty
and he's seen the lights
on several occasions
upon the airstrip
flickering
ever so
brightly and breezily
they are there
for only a short interlude
then they take their leave
he has said
the air at night
around this location
is so icy of feel
and that it made him
quickly
turn on his heels
sometimes these sorts
of occurrences
can't be fully explained
but the mystery of them
holds our fascination
the intrigue
of this story
shall ever remain
why do the lights
on the disused airstrip
so scarily entertain
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 8:10 PM UTC
every day we plaster
a smile upon our face
to hide the inner turmoil
with a polished grace
every day we chatter
we pass each other by
every day we laugh, we smile
every day we lie
we ask: "hello, how are you?"
breezily we reply:
"I'm fine, thanks and you?"
we say: "very well, thanks, goodbye"
there's one thing never mentioned
one thing never spoken of
it's a guilty secret
the thing that he calls "love"
silently we suffer
our voices never heard
quiet as the midnight our
we never speak a word
mouths forever shut
speaking out is forbidden
constant anguishing
the pain is always hidden
quietly we learn
to live with all the fear
forever terrified
we push away all we hold dear
silently we fight
forever marching on
step after step
towards to breaking dawn
we hold aloft our swords
composed of shrieking light
to pierce the darkness
of our persistent night
as we wage our battle
our voices ring loud and clear
the silence is ceased
and we will share our plight for all to hear
no one should live in darkness
so I will let my story be
a catalyst I hope
to set my silent sisters free
May 17, 2013
May 17, 2013 at 5:49 PM UTC
Remember,
That first year in uncertain September,
She kissed you goodbye at the weeping gates,
School soon gave birth to new and exciting mates.
Remember,
The perfumed sweat of that summer,
Cool was the shade she so breezily offered,
You screamed and thundered and all her hopes shattered.
Remember,
The stainless snows of December,
Warm were the embers of the kitchen’s delicious fireplace,
Those well wrapped memories stay warm in the mind’s secure space.
Remember,
The lost and lonely nights of November,
Gone was the warmth and safety of her love’s vast stream,
The nightmare days you feared now snuggle and drown your dreams.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 10:59 PM UTC
I lost a friend
I didnt expect it to end
A friendship like godsend
Out of the blue
Got a message felt like getting the flue
Got me all dizzy
Couldnt believe what i saw so i acted busy
What can i say what can i do
I thought when we said forever together it was true
Did i do something wrong ?
All i could do is to dive headlong
I demanded a reason
I havent done no treason
All i heard was empty excuses
I couldnt let it go easily
I cant be one who loses
But i was losing the argument breezily
I can't force my presence on someone
If it all it does is hurt them
So i had to let go
But i felt so dumb
Jun 12, 2020
Jun 12, 2020 at 9:16 PM UTC
Waves crash and the water swirls and pools around my feet
Lovely thoughts rush of you
A straight shot to the head
I take them from my cranial memoirs
And cast them into the Sea
Never to be brought back again
Buried in the salty sands of the bottomless pit
That reminds me of me
And forever silently sleeping
Is what the Sea tells me, breezily, its meant to be
Nov 29, 2011
Nov 29, 2011 at 10:02 PM UTC
Standing at my door
an old friend just met.
The veranda catches a shadow
still with a thick layer of dew.
Slow to talk about the real but not about
the pounding, look close, real close,
dare to see, offer the eyes, the eye
open always on the shining mind.
Breezily blowing into the kitchen
where everything revolves around a
couple of days, isn't it a gas, isn't
it a blast, or should language like that
be used?
Choose to ask the tongue once
when morning settles in to stay
brow beaten and lonely
asking her to play,
why does it turn out this way?
why does it turn out that way?
The choice brings no answers,
a frail silence, a brazen emptiness,
leading in the mystery meant to teach,
to scold, to fill,
to be bold,
to breach,
to breathe into that thing that carries me,
one man up the endless hill, breath by breath,
no longer seeking, no longer tied to a home.
Jul 5, 2016
Jul 5, 2016 at 4:10 AM UTC
The wagon rode, laden with dreams,
Of clear happiness and fairy love.
His path was hilly, full of trees.
But he rode brightly inspite of.
The wagon rode and galloped slowly
Without any troubles and fears.
The sun shined to him tenderly
And forest gave him pure cheers.
The wagon rode and breathed a peace.
He went so breezily and calm.
It seemed that nobody again,
Never and never do him harm.
The wagon rode on tiny rocks.
And now he have to started home.
His home is sunless and no cheers.
His home is gloomy catacomb.
Apr 1, 2025
Apr 1, 2025 at 6:27 PM UTC
Don’t look at me through eyes
like the fog that clothes the valley
on an early morning in spring
and say that you are not free.
Willful and wild, you are the wind.
You could spring upwards as though on wings,
singing and dancing,
entrancingly lively as you slide over the lilac.
Don’t tell me you feel trapped,
that you’ve shorn off your wings
and built a bunker, brick by brick,
where the wind no longer touches.
“You are free” I tell you.
How can I show you what I know:
that you were meant to fly?
Carefree and breezily as the clouds in the sky?
But when I say “go! fly away!”
You dejectedly stand,
and when I say “you are free”
you just don’t understand.
Sep 25, 2018
Sep 25, 2018 at 6:25 AM UTC
pale clouds of Queen Anne's lace
float breezily atop the green
like foam sits on the ocean waves
gently bobbing, they lend the air
their floral scent
Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 10:40 PM UTC
this word love,
heavy with import, alternatively,
falsely called out too breezily,
diminished by over-usage,
till you admit it doesn’t fit
like your formerly fav pair of jeans
stretched, too many stains,
cut for a different body,
a different soul,
a different existence,
a former you
*so when the mind and mouth
glimpse a synchronized synapse,
and just ‘bout ready to let the “L”
bomb slip past the guardians of
your own galaxy, you nick time,
modify it to a moderate, but yet
fulfill your need with a differentiated
four letters.*
(“Cariño para ti.”)
“Care for you.”
Jul 17, 2020
Jul 17, 2020 at 2:37 PM UTC
Breezily does the wind blow
But birds sing and hum softly
Despite warmth it snows
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 12:25 AM UTC
she lies on the roof
clothed only in a thin, soft, robe
made of the finest silk
colored baby blue
the ends flutter smoothly
in the slight breeze
like wisps of grey-blue smoke
from a European cigarette
she's gazing at the stars
choosing the exact one
she wants to float to
the brightest one, of course
the one filled with the most hope
she closes her eyes
and dreams of him
waiting for her, at the edge of her star
with arms extended
beckoning
she can see his heart beating furiously
in his chest
he calls to her
with eyes filled with desire
she twists slowly in the night sky
the silks of her robe
flowing softly behind her
loose on her arms
until it falls away breezily
she dances towards him in her nakedness
laughing
and reaching out
their fingers barely touching
she looks up and see's the look of panic
in his eyes
and she cries
NO!
as her dream breaks up in an explosion
of silver and black
and she is alone
again
on the roof
... without her robe
and in her hand
a small silver star.
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 8:15 PM UTC
in your darkest hour. on the doorstep of your despair
i will come for you with open arms. i'll always be there.
your touch had me realizing. your love, i was analyzing.
baby, you're so tantalizing. you've got me breezily rhyming.
now, i've gotten ahead of myself before.
so now i'm wary.
those eyes have reached my core.
it's almost scary.
i've never had someone even come close to understanding.
i never knew that could happen, but now here you are.
you know who you are, you wreak havoc like hurricane sandy.
but now it's not my house, it's my beating heart.
Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 7:33 PM UTC
My head feels fuzzy and I don't know why
And that is not a lie
Clarity does not come easily
anxiety comes breezily
My brain makes me feel sad
mad
and oh so bad
People try to help me but I do not heed
I cannot plead
My fuzzy head is not my friend
I do not want this to be the end
So I fight on
I will not yawn
Till the break of dawn
Nov 20, 2018
Nov 20, 2018 at 8:05 PM UTC
Today blows
the wind is whipping
all the shutters closed
yet gusts of dust roll through me
not cutting
nor biting
but blustering breezily
as though I'm not there
as though I'm not aware of such zeitgeist climates
as those that I reside in
I am not here
and the air won't give me oxygen
as I'm caught within a cyclone of my own
Mine
that is me
has been me, mostly
no longer
On this day
let me be wrapped in aerial vestments
the warm west rekindling my breast
the cool east resetting my bones
bring me back from the brink I breached so long ago
and let my solid form settle the storm
Feb 27, 2020
Feb 27, 2020 at 5:21 PM UTC
Some eighteen years ago
A kid was born in Chennai
Seven years rolled past
Time to learn games
Papa Rajni opted for Chess
The kid became a chess bee
And by his meteoric rise
Became a whizkid,
Breezily following the
Legacy of the legendary Vishy
Winning tournaments at will
Always going for the ****
Became IM and later, GM
This gem!
The chess lion set his sight
On bigger ****
Played big tournaments , slayed opponents
The lion roared, his rating soared
Through FIDE circuit
The lion jumped into the candidates’ arena
Played uncompromising chess,
Gukesh-the Gladiator!
And won the right to
Challenge Ding, the Chinese lion!
The lions arrived to the lion-land of Singapura
To match their wits in fourteen board games
They ducked, punched, waited, pounced
All over the chess board,
Like heavyweight champs,
Trading blows and drawing more,
The match neared its ******
In the eleventh game,
Caissa smiled at Gukesh
With this win,
he was soaring towards summit
Only to be pulled back by
Some daring play by Ding,
With a win, Ding was on song,
His regaining the grit
In his smile was writ.
With the thirteenth game
Ending in a draw
Increased the tension of chessbuffs
Of the universe,
Especially the Gukesh-guys
Who were rooted for the
Indian victory
Speculations rose over the fate
Of the fourteenth
Guesses and predictions made
On the possible tiebreak games
With advantage for Ding.
No said, Gukesh
Played the endgame,
Ended the game
Dethroned Ding
And became the King!!
Jan 13, 2025
Jan 13, 2025 at 12:19 PM UTC