"briefest" poems
Thank you for the memories,
The unexpected, sudden hits of nostalgia
Taking me back to carefree days
Of playing football after a summer rainstorm,
Of laughing in woodwork class,
Of my grandmother's awesome cakes.
Like time travel on the cheap,
You weather away the years,
And the strata of cynicism and regret,
Momentarily eroding my reality,
Revealing the manchild at my core,
Allowing him the briefest chance to once again explore.
But these are unpredictable reveries,
Three dimensional snatches of memories.
It's time they developed some kind of smell recorder,
Just like sights and sounds can be held for posterity.
But such technology would not compare to my physiological wonder;
Magically transforming scent into vivid memories.
Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 1:57 PM UTC
Solvent and solution
Kept assuaged for so long
Treading in the selfishness of my subconscious state
Of barely traceable memories, spurred on by the gravity of time spent
At the briefest hint at past involvement
Each leaf falls, eventually.
Every pristine little well formed tended to.
Each nurtured, cared for, parcel or idea.
I can watch them for hours
Watching them fall, one by one, for hours.
When days start to bleed together, out of the corner of my eye,
I can always see them, marking progression.
Collecting in drifts, then, taken by the wind, then
The rot sets in.
I used to watch this.
I used to find time.
The roof cast me in its shadow, even standing along the banister that runs along the length
Even as the final rays of sun start to vanish one at a time
Apr 3, 2018
Apr 3, 2018 at 2:34 PM UTC
I wish for a hug...
One that lasts only mere seconds.
Yet could only mean nothing
but eternity.
I long for a hug...
One that finds me struggling,
and offers the line that'll hoist me up
so that the whims of the world
would simply fall away.
I yearn for a hug...
An embrace that grants me the briefest
moment of solace.
Amidst the clamour and chaos
that overwhelm.
I want a hug...
One that's unconditional.
One that'll just take me in, as I am.
One that wouldn't cringe
at the misfit of my bones.
One that wouldn't judge
if our heartbeats don't
thump in sync.
Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 11:37 AM UTC
i am nostalgic
for the past,
the past that we hadt
and the almost
happy memories we
shared,
painful memories that
will always be caged
in my mind and heart.
and sometimes,
this nostalgia is too
overwhelming and
unabareable,
so i get the urge to
be sentimental for the
briefest moment and
wanting, needing a
time machine.
but then, again,
i need to face the ugly
reality, where you are no
longer next to me,
and you can't comfort
me like you used to.
Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 5:05 PM UTC
I met you at the station
you said wanted to go anywhere but here.
I said to look for the tracks that
are the most uninviting. You
took my arm. I wished for
something better and here it came,
disguised by dirt, dislocation and greying days.
Your ticket says no return but
mine is undefined, watchful, ready
to bolt or to linger. You say you love
the stations from afar.
There's not much of me
requested, but the splinters that you
do, I gift hopelessly. The
smallest glimpse of light approaching
filtered through dank, oppressive air
are superior, surely? than finite life
exhausted watching the dark.
By the night you amplify,
when you have enjoyed my fill and
left with little but fingerprints and
recollections, casting parallel shadows
on directions that await.
I give you almost everything
except for the words that
travel nowhere but my head.
You gave me the signal
a briefest flash of red
that stopped this in its tracks.
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 6:04 AM UTC
A tragedy miles of time away,
The anguish almost forgotten:
But pain is a stubborn stain;
Counselling never washes it away,
New love never smothers it.
Like a stubborn ****
It is always there,
Rooted in composted memories,
Finding nourishment in the briefest recollections.
The slightest trigger allowing it to briefly blossom.
Dec 13, 2018
Dec 13, 2018 at 7:17 PM UTC
I smile at you
Watching me
Watch you
Smile right back at me,
Sharing the briefest of secrets.
Well ZOWIE KAPOW!
That's all it took.
Suddenly your mystery compels me
To tell you
Things you wouldn't understand.
Like how your salty wet leather scent
Keeps fragrancing my dreams.
How we may be strangers,
But our making native nasty
Knuckle noose love
Keeps coursing, red-roaring through.
And when I come to,
Forcibly forgoing my fantasy of you,
I exhale my ethereal bliss,
Left savoring only this:
Your wicked wiles, whispering winks,
And God in the curl of your lips.
Mar 4, 2010
Mar 4, 2010 at 12:19 PM UTC
Seated beside you in a bicycle rickshaw,
eventide of your last New Delhi day
gathering itself all around us.
Silk from my sari encircles my head,
shoulders warmed by a winter shawl.
Your heavy beige mantle and dhoti,
frame a man as tall as a tree, at least to me.
There is no need for words.
I may have been singing a bhajan to you,
just quietly, as shop lights came on
in the deepening blue.
Perfection finds us in the briefest of moments.
Wherever you are now, timelessness
governs friendships formed
in the Land of the Veda.
Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 2:32 PM UTC
Leaves stripped bare,
The clump of a nest
Now so obvious, but since abandoned
Past residents won't care.
This morn, winter flavored branches
Sweet confections that beckoned.
Black in twilight, the silhouettes
Look again as barren,
Swaying spindly fingers
And counting stars
Which today seem so far.
Once I reached up and plucked
Those winking sparkles to sprinkle
A pillow I shared,
Though glowing duller amid dreams
That shined in young eyes.
Their beams became beacons,
Joining hearts across oceans
So that distance wouldn't matter.
It was in absence dread fate dared,
Soon setting ancient lights to falter,
Dimming, dying through time's haze.
Oh, how long ago did I last gaze
Upon exciting skies as this!
Certain of the hopes and promise
Avowed within those sparks held.
T'was briefest of life's moments,
Most rare and intense,
Never again finding its day
Save in ambush of memory
On a night like this
When wind blows bitter and swift.
Brilliance still dances, but ever so far away
Feb 14, 2010
Feb 14, 2010 at 4:36 PM UTC
i caught
the midnight sky
winking at me
as i walked
out the front door;
its clouded lid
falling upon
that bright
but waning eye
for the briefest
of moments
it is hard
to know
if this was
a gesture
of endorsement
a translunary "attaboy"
of encouragement
to keep walking
this path
less travelled
or an accusatory
reassurance
despite
the ambivalence
that my secrets
would be kept
by this
ever-watchful
stellar companion
Aug 4, 2022
Aug 4, 2022 at 8:06 AM UTC
downpours in june are expected in london
like the rushing to the tubelines at closing time
the warmth of the morning undone
raining in june is nothing short of a crime.
like children in suits the 9-5ers
leap from raindrop to raindrop
with umbrellas writhing against eachother like tethers
only for the briefest connections can we stop.
there's no point looking into a rain-battered soul
its only when we move apart can we truly be whole.
Jun 15, 2019
Jun 15, 2019 at 6:08 PM UTC
tonight i looked up into the night sky...and i saw how lucky i am to be alive.
how is it we can see so much in the dark? i saw myself looking back at me.
too far for my own mind to follow.
i thought of spinning around in circles...of history repeating itself.
i thought of seeds sprouting and people dying.
i thought of my body and it's weakness. i saw my strength and resilience.
i thought of living long after i leave this place.
returning to dust and earth. sinking into the deep and floating off into the nothingness.
i thought of the wondrous nothingness. so enormous with purpose.
too far for my own light to follow.
to venture as far as to fade into future and pass into past.
i saw myself looking back at me.
i saw my eyes weathered with age and wisdom.
i saw my heart playful as ignorance. foolish with curiosity.
i knew that from this moment i would not fear death.
for i saw in the dark that i shall never perish.
i saw my return to the night. my return to the dust.
the beautiful beginning end. i saw it begin so long ago.
i knew all along that i could not fear life.
i saw in the dark that i shall always shine brightly.
i saw the gorgeous truth of the extraordinary coincidences.
i thought of my mother and her strength and care.
i thought of my father's photograph... and the life that he lived in my pocket.
i saw him looking down upon me. shining brightly as i would.
i saw myself turning in circles.
i thought of turning...turning...turning into him.
this is such a beautiful place. such a lovely breath of air.
so enormous with purpose.
each one will venture as far as to fade into future and pass into past.
i thought of the last inhale.
i knew at that moment that time has been kind to me.
i thought of holding my breath.
i dreamt of keeping the last thing this world would give me.
i saw myself shimmer like light on the water. i saw myself leaving and coming back.
i knew that in the briefest of moments i would last for eternity.
i saw myself in everyone else. i saw us all fighting for air.
i thought of us spinning around in circles...of history repeating itself.
tonight i looked up into the night sky...and i saw how lucky we are to be alive.
May 2, 2012
May 2, 2012 at 5:17 PM UTC
No Good Ever Came...
No good ever came
From staying up all night
Except when it took all night
To satisfy our thoughts
No good ever came
After the eight pint
Except when we drank too much
And finally said the words
No good ever came
From sleeping for hours all fine
Except in those morning hours
When we were safe from the whole world
No good ever came
From staying sober and bright
Except for the days we remember
When everything was sharp and whole
No good ever came
From standing completely still
Except when we stared at each other
And knew just who we were
No good ever came
From filling up on pills
Except when we hung from the ceiling
And clung to the clouds in mirth
No good ever came
From chasing childish thrills
Until we found that place inside
And laughed at how simple it was
No good ever came
From using power of will
Except when we clung together
Much longer than we should
No good ever came
From constantly pretending
Except when we said it would be fine
And sort of lived our lives
No good ever came
From the act of surrendering
Except when we surrendered
To the currents in our hearts
No good ever came
From being real and raw
Except when we absolved ourselves
By accepting all our scars
No good ever came
From fighting in a war
Except when we fought each other
Instead of face ourselves
Nothing ever good came
From shedding all those tears
Except when it let you know
That I was full of fear
Nothing ever came from me or you or us
Except for the briefest moments
When good came from both our lives.
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 4:46 PM UTC
I wait for you, night
I wait for you all day
For in those briefest moments we touch
I wish we could just stay
Stay like this forever
With your blue intertwining my red
and create a beautiful masterpiece
A canvas in the sky, they said
For when we meet
It feels as if your lips graze mine
Brief and obsolete
In that moment you are thine
I wish we could stay in this limbo forever
Where the day met the night
But alas it has to end
We separate in plight
But when tomorrow comes
I can always count on you
Your darkness meeting my light
As day and night must do
And we partake in this game forever
Never a day complete
Without this dance we play
Like children on the street
I wait for you, night
I wait for you all day
I wish for you forever in the moments
But you can never stay
Feb 26, 2017
Feb 26, 2017 at 10:33 PM UTC
A bond grows into
a form long and sharp, shining
with thin deception.
The knife stabs through her
unceremoniously.
Satan waits to chew.
Within the briefest
moment, the knife releases
spermatozoa, the seeds.
Earnestly sowing
themselves into her innards,
she writhes, expecting--
The lumbar region
swells in perverse production--
Mock maternity.
The formation of
a placenta from the spine--
Woeful womb of Hate.
Betrayal as long
as the knife from which it came,
borne long after Birth.
-LP
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 6:33 PM UTC
I am in love
For the first time
In the briefest of moments
On the shortest of days
I am in love
With a person of great value
Whose opinion has a voice
Who found peace within
I am in love
With a heart that is ever overflowing
Eyes that see beauty in all things witnessed
Lips that speak naught but truth
I am in love
Completely and utterly
With the utmost honesty
With the promise to remember this feeling always
For I am in love
In the briefest of moments
On the shortest of days
With the person I have finally become
I am in love
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 2:29 PM UTC
We were waiting at the trattoria
for our friends to arrive,
when she walked in,
Aphrodite, alive.
Her skin, olive brown,
gently kissed by the sun.
A fertility goddess if
there ever was one.
A picture of symmetry
long legs and great hips.
Neapolitan eyes
and, of course, bee stung lips.
Magnificent mammaries,
barely contained
in the briefest of dresses.
as I stared, unashamed.
There, of course, are impediments
I won't try to hide.
The ring on my finger,
my bride at my side.
Plus there's the issue
of fifty years gone.
My Romeo days
have packed up and moved on.
Now our friends have arrived
and, chaste kisses exchanged,
We feast on our entrees
as wine glasses are drained.
As dessert time approaches
I sadly observe
she’'s not on the menu
Pumpkin Cheese cake will serve.
Dec 26, 2011
Dec 26, 2011 at 9:28 PM UTC
This lament is not of love
but of beauty:
Not the beauty of a human smile,
nor the beauty of of the lips and
eyes of a beloved,
But of the beauty of the World.
I live for the beauty of the sunset, when
the light hits your eyes
pinning you to the spot.
For the beauty of the corn and grass
wafting in the breeze.
And for the beauty of the sound of
rain lulling you to sleep.
And yet it is this beauty that
kills me.
In every stolen photo, every
meagre recording and
every nostalgic waft of breeze.
For these moments can never be captured
Alas there is no net big enough for this butterfly
And no mind can hold the
bird of paradise
that is life.
Instead, I am doomed to chase it,
throughout my lesser existence
To be forever the one who cries out
"LOOK!" to those who cannot see,
For there are those who are blind to it,
and these are the ones
I pity.
For they are not blind in their
eyes, sight is merely a single
sense that can be easily replaced with
touch or
smell or
hearing...
But blind in their minds
Do not pity me,
though my head is too small
for it's calling.
Pity those who cannot, even
for the briefest of seconds,
see the World.
Who spend life crawling forward,
head down
towards the light, wary
to be blinded.
For, though it may **** me, I
plan to bathe in
that light,
so that, if only for the briefest of moments...
I might see the sun.
And what a way to go.
Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 4:49 PM UTC
If I were a painter
I would craft a goddess, hung
Immortal to some museum
or midst the the dusty collection of some baron
With body, flawless
Form, divine
And all of her admirers
Turning the muses flanking Apollo, jealous
But the real fire, the life giving spark
Would flare mad passion in her eyes
And the thundering, A call;
Theodora, freed from the patriarchy of old Byzantium
A bearer of the old magic, ghosts dancing from another time
Her beauty would be harmonious
To the glittering brown-gold of honeydew
And bursting,
Like a symphony loud and tremulous
All the true aesthetes, trembling
That a painter got to meet a woman so
To set his heart afire
And if I had been born a sculptor
If I had been given the power to shape
My crowning achievement
The great anthem of my time, spent
Would be a face;
A chin, gently tilted skyward
The eyes, sparkling with that unknown sea
Hair disheveled, parted, smoothing the cheeks
and the glimmer of lips,
Softly pursed;
But the eyes, the doorways to that tidal force
All of the dreams
All of the feelings, trapped and rolling, the ocean beneath
Would burst forth; A thousand church candles,
Or a gathering of street lights.
If I were a sculptor my greatest achievement would be cast in Lady's Dream
Not for the skin, but for the glittering eyes
Or if I were a composer
Working on my symphony
I would have the brasses buzzing,
and the strings
A chorus of thought
And the melody would be defined not by the loudness
But the silences
The gaps of deep thought, juxtaposed
Amongst the roaring
The soft gasps of tide being pulled back to sea
and all of the sweet undulations, the rivers of a mind
If I were a composer the audience would get a glimpse,
The briefest moment,
Of the beauty
Of quiet
The deepness
Of thought
But I am merely a poet,
A poor shaper of words
Strung out on hope,
Gambling on luck,
Trapped, eternally, to the brightness of the sun
And lost to those whirlwind emotions that govern men so
And for a moment, smiling,
I got to know the wildness in another poet's eyes
The softness of her smile,
And if I could spell love in her heart
I would
But I am merely a poet,
A poor shaper of words
And with these powers
I can merely say this:
When I say beauty
and the thoughts fall loosely on the page,
hopefully bringing forth a smile
When I say beauty,
When I say beauty
What I mean:
You.
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 11:25 PM UTC
It’s in the smallest sounds
The briefest touches
The shortest glimpse
The most fleeting feeling
The faintest scent
It’s in the loudest symphonies
The longest entanglement
The seemingly endless moment shared between wandering gazes stopped
The lasting, lingering instinct
The strongest, most pungent aroma
It’s in an informal talk with a friend
A polite minute long conversation with a stranger
A speech given
A comment overheard
A phrase dropped
A joke made
A remark pointed
It’s in the violent torrents of stinging drops
The gentlest whispers of snowflakes dancing
The beacons of golden hope shining down undefeatable
The spiraling wisps twirling to the ground from their noble perch up above
The tiny fragments of faraway life sailing on the invisible breeze from one life to another
It’s the renewal every human needs,
That once in a while of going on
That inescapable truth: we’re only human
That once every so often we accept
That everyone can only take so much
We all need something to hold
We all need something to hope
We all need something to roam
We all need something to go
We all need something to have
It’s the renewal
And it’s everywhere
It’s in our waters
And in our fires
It’s in our air
And in our earth
Everywhere someone can find it
Everywhere someone will need it
It’s everywhere you look
It’s everywhere you need
That’s what renewal happens to give.
Sep 18, 2017
Sep 18, 2017 at 9:13 AM UTC
You think you can erase me. You think throwing my glass to the ground will remove my lip stick stains. You think your brain, like rocks, will become smooth if you lay in the gentle waves of a new lover. You think your fingers will lose my prints if you burn them long enough on the fire of your newfound passion.
You think her smell will cloud over mine. You think you can forget I was ever around, when you hold the truth on your skin.
How could I possibly be gone from you if you'll never be gone from me? My mouth shows you to every single person I meet. They can't see you there, they can't feel you with my tongue. They don't know the chip you've left on my tooth. It's not there for them. It's mine.
You pretend I don't know your body like a map. You don't think I can trace the scars of your fingers, draw the gully of your joints, the flat plains of your chest. You don't know a thing.
I'll never be gone. You can cut me out physically all you want. But when night comes, and you're clutching her close, remember me.
Remember me then. You'll feel her body shift, and for the briefest of seconds, you'll know where mine belongs.
You'll catch my scent on a breeze, and call her my name. You can't ignore me. I'll never go away. I know far too much to vanish. It's not over, and I won't let it be over until I've seen you squirm.
She doesn't want you. We both feel it.
See, even if I'm not near you, I feel you. I feel what you feel, know what you're thinking. That won't go away.
You can singe my ******* and you can **** my mementos. You can.
You can't **** what they meant to you. You can't **** what you feel.
So drown yourself in her, and I'll laugh when you roll to my shores, torn apart.
Your skin will sag and weigh itself down with seaweed. You'll have barnacles on your tongue as you try to speak to me. You will tell me, "I knew it was wrong. You will never be gone,"
And I will tell you to hush, and rip off each one slowly, savoring them, making your mouth bleed onto my lap. Your blood will pool around my knees, and sink into my skin, like it was always meant to.
You can't escape me.
Late at night, lay there, thinking of me.
You may have her now,
But you'll always have me.
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 11:09 PM UTC
Would that these sounds inside my head stop, for the briefest of moments,
for if it was so that I could just hear your voice one more time,
I would listen like a child in incumbent solitude,
as if to a mothers soothing voice,
reading never ending stories,
and if time would hold back these autumn tears,
I would breath again, feeling the cold, crisp air enter my lungs as a soothing balm,
healing my wounds and making me whole.
© H V Swan
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 6:04 PM UTC
I stood watching her from the left of the lights
Tiny arms and legs
She was
My little Swan!
I danced in shadows
As she danced in light
Mother and daughter
She is magnificent!
Her golden curls flying
Tights sparkling
Toes, barely touching the stage
Mother passes the light
To the dancing daughter
And all is as it should be
She caught but a glimpse of me
In my selfish shadows
Dancing in her glory
Our eyes locked for the briefest of seconds
She danced on........
Apr 13, 2017
Apr 13, 2017 at 12:01 PM UTC
there’s a deep, visceral anger that I seem to feel everyday
that no one ever talks about.
i wake up and my stomach roils with fury, wild and burning.
i eat breakfast and watch as my hand grips the mug, wishing I could shatter it against the floor.
conversation hurts with the acid I want to spit at my mother.
i watch action movies and ride roller coasters and go to haunted mazes and every scream I’m allowed feels like the briefest, most beautiful respite.
i look out at crowds of people and it feels like I’m breathing concrete.
i sit in my car and scream and cry and scream because it’s the only place I’m really alone and the guy in front of me stares through his rearview mirror.
i say that I’m tired but I really mean angry but I don’t know how to say angry so I just say tired and everyone is getting really tired of me being tired.
i remember when the anger was so big and I was so small and I only knew how to close the hatch of my mouth to keep it all inside because one time I let it out and then everyone knew about the anger and I came to the sudden terrifying realization that the anger wasn’t supposed to be evoked.
i am so angry and I thought everyone else was too and we were all in on some joke where we’re constantly hiding fury behind our eyes.
but I think, recently, I’ve realized that this deep, hot, painful, crippling, paralyzing anger isn’t entirely normal.
that not everyone wants to scream at their loved ones one moment and then stick a knife in their head the next.
instead the joke is on me, like I missed orientation and everyone seems to run like clockwork and I’m an angry little gear that’s rusted and out of place.
everything is so practiced and planned and poised and perfect and I just want to sink my teeth into it and rip it all to shreds, screaming and baring my throat to the sky, daring god to face me and bear witness to my unholy wrath as the blood of his creation runs down my neck.
anger grips me like a vice and lives in my stomach and I just want to have a conversation where I’m not trying to not throw the bottle in my hand.
Sep 6, 2022
Sep 6, 2022 at 3:06 AM UTC
It has been so long since I last heard my name out of your mouth that this time, it takes me by shock. I’m standing in the shadows, mouth agape, and you’re illuminated by the sun rays, blinding smile on your face. It’s funny, I note as a passing thought; we’ve been the light and dark of each other for as long as I can remember. You pull me out of my stupor, eyes finding mine and as always it feels like returning home.
"Are you coming?"
I shake my head, the weather is searing and my health is frail. The sun has never been a sanctuary for me like it has been for you, hair a faded brown and skin tanned from overexposure to the day. I pale in comparison, thriving in the moonlight and the shadows, at night and in the cold.
To my surprise, you don’t push any further. The briefest shock in your expression lingers before realisation sets in, and the corners of your lips turn up. It then occurs to me that you remember all that I have told you before, years ago when I thought you weren’t listening. I suppose you have been, all this while. A small spark of hope ignites somewhere deep inside my lungs.
"Tsk."
You truly smile by this time, fondness embedded in your gaze and the hints of affection in the tilt of your head. I return the gesture, a nervous, happy laugh escaping even before I can stop it. The moment is a giddy whirlwind of emotions; I have never been able to control myself around you.
-
I never notice until much later, but I spend the rest of the day away from the shade and under the sunlight; transfixed by your stare.
In these moments I can only think of how much I love you.
(A.H.Z)
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 11:24 AM UTC