"breezy" poems
I'll mind ya like a monsoon you hurricane gale force spirit wind, you!
Seems like you can't see past the eye of your silly storm seems like it's easy breezy bright light night sky lemon cheesy moon.
I'll mind ya like a monsoon of rabid baboons don't steal my life wine it's not mine same light same shimmer. Everything's every color but the one I see.
Oh jeeze oh jeeze
gimme a squeeze
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 11:43 AM UTC
'Tis moonlight, summer moonlight,
All soft and still and fair;
The solemn hour of midnight
Breathes sweet thoughts everywhere,
But most where trees are sending
Their breezy boughs on high,
Or stooping low are lending
A shelter from the sky.
And there in those wild bowers
A lovely form is laid;
Green grass and dew-steeped flowers
Wave gently round her head.
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It's not like I can't get up in the mornings
It's simply because
I'm not in the mood
It's easy to say I'm lazy or something
But it's quite simple,
I'm not in the mood
It's so breezy for you to walk over me
And if I get snappy so be it
I'm done with your **** be grateful I'm here
Even if it isn't on time
I'm still not in the mood
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 9:39 PM UTC
It's been us for a while
It's been us for years
We were just held back
But now we have no fears
There's nothing in our way
With each other, we spend our time
Hanging out all day
Not seeing each other is a crime
We have so many firsts yet to experience
I can't wait to try them all
With the one I am meant for
I have already begun to fall
Throughout my days
I am so uneasy
But when you hold my hand
Everything feels calm and breezy
It's like a light breeze
On a scorching hot day
You soothe me, and I feel calm
My lap is where you lay
I love being close to you
I wouldn't ever turn back
We were meant to be more
It was the us we always did lack
You're my everything
You're my fate
You're my joy
My soulmate
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 11:37 PM UTC
Muster up the words, "I beg you."
Form some kind of apology, please
This isn't you and you know it
Your heart is too warm to treat someone so cold
The breezy winds flow through your hair just as well as they do your emotions and you're making her feel like a helpless feather with no other choice but to get blown away
Even a simple goodbye would be better than this
Trust me, I know closure isn't really your thing, but she deserves at least something
Anything would do this situation justice, just please talk to her
This isn't you, please snap out of it
I know you've been hurt too many times to count and you're looking everywhere for something or someone to fill your voids but do not use innocent hearts as vices, they don't work like that
Don't rob someone of their feelings just because you have a hard time coping with yours
I know sometimes certain situations and feelings can be interpreted differently, but don't kid yourself, you know exactly what you're doing and quite frankly it's making me sick
You aren't perfect and neither is she, but the least you could do is offer her a bandaid when she needs one instead of drinking her blood and leaving a mess for her to cleanup afterwards without even calling her back
All of this is running like a train through my head when I look into my mirror and see myself start to tear up
The bags under my eyes hold all of the emotions that I try my best not to let out
It should be easier than this
Maybe it really is easy, and I'm just not used to change
I'm not sure about a lot of the things that are happening in my life
However, I am sure that I need to stop becoming a bad memory to others
It keeps me awake at night to think about all of the wrong I've done
That there are people whose only memory of me is how I was the worst for them and I don't want that
To my past friends and lovers, I can't say sorry enough
To my present friends and lovers, please don't give up on me; you are the reason I'm still trying
To my future friends and lovers, I hope by the time we meet, I am nothing less than perfect to you
I'm not used to change, but I could get used to being a good memory
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 1:33 AM UTC
On a comfortable breezy evening,
my mum converses with her sister via Skype
exchanging quirky tales
They broach the subject of her lemon tree.
"It's the most peculiar case;
it was growing so divinely
until, suddenly, it stopped."
Silence. Then the punchline:
"Reminded me of your daughter."
They exchange hoots of laughter
Meanwhile, I sit in the corner
arms folded, eyebrows knitted
unamused
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 9:52 AM UTC
You my blanket.
I'm your warmth.
During the months of cold weather love.
I'm not freezing.
I'm not cold.
During the month of cold weather love.
Yes, it's frosty.
And cold too.
But in your company.
I'm more than cool.
All the moisture floating in the air.
Instantly disappears.
Whenever you're near.
During the months of our cold weather love.
You're hotter during the summer.
Breezy during the spring.
You're everything comfortable I would ever need.
Oct 29, 2012
Oct 29, 2012 at 7:23 AM UTC
Often I think of the beautiful town
That is seated by the sea;
Often in thought go up and down
The pleasant streets of that dear old town,
And my youth comes back to me.
And a verse of a Lapland song
Is haunting my memory still:
“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
I can see the shadowy lines of its trees,
And catch, in sudden gleams,
The sheen of the far-surrounding seas,
And islands that were the Hesperides
Of all my boyish dreams.
And the burden of that old song,
It murmurs and whispers still:
“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
I remember the black wharves and the ships,
And the sea-tides tossing free;
And Spanish sailors with bearded lips,
And the beauty and mystery of the ships,
And the magic of the sea.
And the voice of that wayward song
Is singing and saying still:
“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
I remember the bulwarks by the shore,
And the fort upon the hill;
The sunrise gun, with its hollow roar,
The drum-beat repeated o’er and o’er,
And the bugle wild and shrill.
And the music of that old song
Throbs in my memory still:
“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
I remember the sea-fight far away,
How it thundered o’er the tide!
And the dead captains, as they lay
In their graves, o’erlooking the tranquil bay
Where they in battle died.
And the sound of that mournful song
Goes through me with a thrill:
“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
I can see the breezy dome of groves,
The shadows of Deering’s Woods;
And the friendships old and the early loves
Come back with a Sabbath sound, as of doves
In quiet neighborhoods.
And the verse of that sweet old song,
It flutters and murmurs still:
“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
I remember the gleams and glooms that dart
Across the school-boy’s brain;
The song and the silence in the heart,
That in part are prophecies, and in part
Are longings wild and vain.
And the voice of that fitful song
Sings on, and is never still:
“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
There are things of which I may not speak;
There are dreams that cannot die;
There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak,
And bring a pallor into the cheek,
And a mist before the eye.
And the words of that fatal song
Come over me like a chill:
“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
Strange to me now are the forms I meet
When I visit the dear old town;
But the native air is pure and sweet,
And the trees that o’ershadow each well-known street,
As they balance up and down,
Are singing the beautiful song,
Are sighing and whispering still:
“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
And Deering’s Woods are fresh and fair,
And with joy that is almost pain
My heart goes back to wander there,
And among the dreams of the days that were,
I find my lost youth again.
And the strange and beautiful song,
The groves are repeating it still:
“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
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…
*Gentle water lord,
Four seasons show in your graces:
Breezy spring, wafts, leaves so soon,
Lost loves, colours longing for white,
Light jewel.
Hottest summer, moves, in sleepy
Sun, all her ways soothed, running,
Milky days.
Autumn shakes of mellow webbing
Leaf as you arrive, majesty's thief,
Gliding lithe.
Frozen winter, low, pure and pale,
Never demure, as your wings aloft,
Flake so fair.*
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 1:35 PM UTC
No. It's an impudent falsehood. Men did not
Invariably think the newer way Prosaic
mad, inelegant, or what not.
Was the first pointed arch esteemed a blot
Upon the church? Did anybody say How
modern and how ugly? They did not.
Plate-armour, or windows glazed, or verse fire-hot
With rhymes from France, or spices from Cathay,
Were these at first a horror? They were not.
If, then, our present arts, laws, houses, food
All set us hankering after yesterday,
Need this be only an archaising mood?
Why, any man whose purse has been let blood
By sharpers, when he finds all drained away
Must compare how he stands with how he stood.
If a quack doctor's breezy ineptitude
Has cost me a leg, must I forget straightway
All that I can't do now, all that I could?
So, when our guides unanimously decry
The backward glance, I think we can guess why.
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Don't be frightened if you hear me at the door...or even if you think you see me at the window. Pretend it's a trick of the light...or another one of those bumps in the night.
The spirit is strong and, I'm finding, quite playful in its first few days, weeks, maybe months... whilst waiting for another 'mission'.
You know...finding my feet - or maybe wings?
But I'm not likely to phone. E-mailing was not my thing! And texting? You’re kidding! I was not a big fan!. All that predictive stuff...If you’re too quick it ends up nonsense...all wrong...not for me.
But I will be sending messages through the wind in the trees or maybe the surf on the rocks and sand. Wherever we walked together listen out for me there. I've always felt that I'd be able to do that.
You know...whilst finding my feet - or will it be wings?
And always, from now on...help spiders out with a glass and a card...
take care not to squash their legs. You never know what happens next. And, anyway, another time, but long ahead I hope, it could be you. Although, I always fancied I would come back a human - like this last time round.
Being me was good. And they say, ...you know...out there...
that you go back to a time when you were at your best.
For me that means being younger, fitter - So, a wander on a sun warmed or breezy beach. A Salsa dance, or this Zumba lark...or doing a painting. I liked that...
But definitely...fit...Before IT... You know...I’m looking forward to finding my feet, my wings.
So...you may see me - out in a crowd, or walking along a country lane, incongruously between villages.
I'm already working at appearing for longer and for being more than just a familiar, fleeting, scent or smell. Until I get the calling to make a full life of it again...I'll maybe pop in and out of your life (to let you know I can) ...just in an incidental, experimental kind of way; but then only from time to time.
It's quite tiring...You know...finding your feet...your wings.
Jan 22, 2019
Jan 22, 2019 at 6:22 AM UTC
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Its a new day today
clouds and the sun, painted
all over the blue canvas
while I sit and sip my tea
and enjoy this happy feeling,
all worries kept at bay,
just bothered 'bout my biscuit
kept on the glass tray
whether to dunk it in the tea
or to taste it the crispy way
Why to think so heavy
its just the beginning
breathe a little now, relax
while the air is fresh and breezy
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 11:58 PM UTC
Scraggly curl hair bounces in the air
wagging with whisky eyes breezy pleasing the eclectic electric hectic now mind
like finding a papaya inside an oyster
battery powered like a pomegranate passionfruit flower growing and glowing
around my trinity heart with the noise of a sphere's galactic ******
Crystal Citrine Mountains provide water fountains of sunlight
as so tye-dye t-shirt hip-cat hippos smokin' coconut shisha bathe in barrels
of bourbon.
Lion snakes spit words of worlds hurling nebulous timeline's spiraling
and crashing and splashing baptism ripples together painting Pollack Splatters
with the aroma of Byrd Jazz Jam on rye-whisky bread.
Fractal Berries served by the Far Out Faerrie Ferryman Skeletan with bejeweled emerald eyes
winks while I read in the reeds panting in pan-flutes while water rabbits scamper
into clay enclaves to bathe in pinecone designed sand-tubs.
The hieroglyphic phoenix twists and skip-scats neon green vinyl
turning the wind inside out to x-ray flames of fireworks.
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 8:01 PM UTC
There was a place.
There was a time …
There, I stood … still unknowing
and everything seemed fine.
But there in that place …
at that moment in time …
the moment I saw the eyes,
I'd never believed I'd find.
Well, what could I say?
What could I do?
In a world filled with billions …
and there … was a you.
I'd always known you were out there …
even written of something amiss.
I never, ever stopped looking for you …
because my heart always said that you exist.
My breezy Fall became harshest Winter.
My crazy life left my health running out.
I'd resigned myself that our moment had passed …
but this moment … it removed all doubt.
Well, what could I say?
Tell me, what could I do?
There we stood, staring … alone … in a city of millions …
yes, there … there was a you.
Oh, that mistress fate, she is just so cruel.
Frustration, a curse to be mine.
I'd searched for you my entire life …
but now … my clock … knows a limit of time.
You see, I would never venture a love with you,
while knowing I'd have to leave you … hurt and alone.
I could only admire from afar … stoic and aloof …
while turning my heart into stone.
Nothing I could ever say and nothing I could ever do …
But now, at long last … at least I finally knew.
There, you stood … green seas, gazing up … into skies of blue.
My long-awaited revelation … become sorrow-laced realization.
There really is … a you.
Mar 19, 2018
Mar 19, 2018 at 8:04 AM UTC
you remind me of quiet weekends —
of breezy morning air touching skin,
of warm bright sunlight touching skin,
of silent calm waves touching skin,
of bed silk covers touching skin,
of skin touching skin.
May 24, 2019
May 24, 2019 at 8:32 PM UTC
Waving, the Sun falls like a flickering light bulb,
Blue sky, yellows, reds, oranges and golden clouds,
Adventure is lightning among the stars,
Why does the sun fall as darkness rises?
Yellows born in the East like lightning in the West.
Sunny gold sleepy clouds are sending breezy sounds,
Viewing lightning bolts, hearing thunder,
I lost all colors but found the flashing stars,
Life falling asleep in the West,
Life waking in the East,
Feeling sleepy,
Good night!
Copyright © 2015 Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.
Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 12:14 PM UTC
A blunt start
It's Monday blues
Aching heart
Searching for clues
Wondering eyes
Scheduled meetings
More sales lies
More customer cheatings
Gloomy, rainy, breezy day
Good morning, morning all passes say
My mind is rolling over thinking
My eyes heavy, dosing and sinking
O' I hope it was another holiday
Another day in bed, dreaming all the way
But Monday always comes again
Ruining my week, giving me pain
Same people, same desk, job loads
Traffic queuing on the roads
O' this laziness
I need coffee, to focus on today's business
Monday! Monday! Fly away fast
Till Friday comes, with a party blast...
©sim
Sep 18, 2017
Sep 18, 2017 at 2:05 AM UTC
It was my birthday,
Sixty Five years turned to grey hair.
My love and I, and two old school
friends on a breezy Fall day.
Over Tea and a lovely frosted
three layer cake, we cajoled
and joked about our age,
all turned senior citizens that year.
And yet in truth, we all agreed,
none of us had ever been as happy as then.
The cake was sliced onto china plates,
Each piece served flat on it's cut side.
I noticed something then as we all
took our first bites.
Our forks all started at the thinnest corner,
on the bottom layer's side, gradually
excavating the two lower levels of fluffy
cake, saving the best for last, the top layer
where all the sweet frosting remained.
It occurred to me then that indeed life
is like a three layer cake, the last top layer
can indeed contain the sweetest bites.
That rather than gobbling life hurriedly whole
it should be savored more like patiently eating
and enjoying a three layer cake.
Sep 30, 2016
Sep 30, 2016 at 7:23 PM UTC
Gentle water lord,
Four seasons show in your graces:
Breezy spring, wafts, leaves so soon,
Lost loves, colours longing for white,
Light jewel.
Hottest summer, moves, in sleepy
Sun, all her ways soothed, running,
Milky days.
Autumn shakes of mellow webbing
Leaf as you arrive, majesty's thief,
Gliding lithe.
Frozen winter, low, pure and pale,
Never demure, as your wings aloft,
Flake so fair.
Jan 9, 2013
Jan 9, 2013 at 12:40 PM UTC
Leaves,
Flying flawlessly mid air.
As I would dance, in your orange shadows of lost green.
Receiving nothing, but, breezy kisses of gusty fall.
We sway and twirl painting skies
Oozing shadows, now becoming decor of anew.
Floors being swept with flesh of summers past.
All dancing and tumbling in an ocean of skies.
Drowning paths with forgotten lush and past.
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 4:11 PM UTC
I will hear your voice
Singing joyful hymns
Between chores
On Saturday morn;
I will see your smile of radiance
On the faces of my sisters and nieces;
And your boundless energy
Will manifest in the limbs
Of my sons and nephews;
And the legacy
Of a Nubian Queen
From Islington Village
On the breezy bank
Of the majestic Berbice river,
Shall reign eternal...
~ Pablo (#formom)
10/25/2013
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 11:46 AM UTC
When I return to Hope
it will be the height of summer's warm July
I'll stroll the gravel road to take the cutoff path
gathering lupine wildflowers, breezy among the dewy grass
make my morning way along heaven's labrynthine trail
with chirping cheery bird, sweet songs or distant calls of loon
where blue of sky is woven wild with magenta all abloom
and I will lose myself most complete
immersed in nature's room
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 10:22 AM UTC