"budding" poems
*i always imagine you so very graceful
through the masochists ordeal
a god form of supplication
seeing your face
in love
fascinated by shimmering kisses
that hurt, yet please
wet lips and sharp teeth
glamors that excite
cold blade licks dragged across
tender bellies
naval
buttocks
and flexed toes
stinging
then radiating outwards
wounds become lilies
mouth *******
tremulous weeping kisses
ecstatic cruelties
blood glitter sacrifice
your supplication
love pangs
i'm shaking apart over you
your countenance
a cascading dream
moved to tears of adoration
your limitless
yielding
like surrenders caress
an infinite communion
with fragile limbs
silky wrapped spools
innerness of desire veiled in a shroud
a faltering star that glistens crimson
nymph of purgation
ash volcanic
cells en-flamed with tongues that bite
subsumed in scented vapors
a confection of **** and ***
waves embrace ineffable shores
passed the discontinuity of life
I have the most immense feeling of love for you
am i not
the saint death
quietly following you
through life's labyrinth
innocuous
waiting humbly in the wings
i am all ache for you
a vice of kisses
a brief encounter
that eats your sight and senses
ushering you to immortal freedom
a swooning garland of fire that enlivens
the body electric
a mist of molecules
your tears intoxicate
i am new life with in you
budding embryo
that consumes its mother for nourishment
and saturates like dew drops
as it echoes through oblivion*
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 3:50 PM UTC
the bed is not very big
a sufficient pillow shoveling
her small manure-shaped head
one sheet on which distinctly wags
at times the weary twig
of a neckless ******
(very occasionally budding
a flabby algebraic odour
jigs
et tout en face
always wiggles the perfectly dead
finger of thitherhithering gas.
clothed with a luminous fur
poilu
a Jesus sags
in frolicsome wooden agony).
25.4k
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
And so the Pu'erh and Jasmine Lily
pearls are covered, my attention on
the Phoenix Eye pearls, and I peel back
the foil of a small handful. Ainhana had
carefully remove the infuser and I pour
in the pearls, listening as they gently
hit the glass.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
As soon as Ainhana places the infuser
back in the tea *** I turn the sand-dial
and watch the cream sands run, and the
pearls steep. I dare not let it run for the
full five minutes - I find the perfect brew is
made in three. The pearls now unfurl, the
green leaves now floating. The clear water
turns into the colour of the finest champagne.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
After three minutes, Ainhara pours me a cup,
the aroma itself puts me more at ease.
'Do not waste it,' I tell her, holding the
handle and saucer. 'Such fine pearls can
be steeped twice, and I will make sure that
I treasure every single cup.'
'Yes, My Lady,' She says with a curtsy.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
With my eyes closed, I blow away some
steam and proceed to sip short and brief.
It is a pleasure that is most welcome, indeed!
Teeming with the fires of the Phoenix itself
and caressing my tongue with floral sweetness.
A delicious moan escapes me as I relax in
my Summer Throne.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
My breathing is calmed as I look at
the horizon with redolent eyes.
The choirs sing as I drink such fine
ambrosia! By a cup of Pearls, mine
own eyes feel inspired, as I think of
the lovely vision that is the Phoenix
that is born of the lotus.
Adieu, stresses of Court!
Adieu, plagues of doubt and anger!
Thy Queen is now jocund dove.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
'Truly the finest Jasmine Pearls I've
had in years!' I beam. 'Be sure to share
this with my fellow Kings and Queens.
Especially Queen Kim. In such a golden
hour, we shall become Dream Children,
to be lost in gardens of distant China.'
'Yes, My Queen.' Ainhara waves her hand,
Semui and Ilazi now resume play.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
As I sip once again, the summer
showers come. Lo! My gazebo
glistens! Cleansed by the light,
and life for my fields of my
fair gardens.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
This blend cleanses the fire of my heart.
This blend casts out sorrows for me to
drink beauty.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
A liquor the shade of champagne with
the flames of life budding from a
delicate flavour.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
The Phoenix merges with me, for I
am the star of the morn that graces
my Aurelinaea!
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
Such a blend of elegance in my tongue,
a heavenly euphony. How I'm forever in
awe of the power of
my Jasmine Pearls.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
Aug 4, 2018
Aug 4, 2018 at 7:49 AM UTC
I am lost in my own germination.
I miss the innocence of adolescence,
I miss the days of being a seed.
Nostalgia stemming from maltreatment,
roots of disdain running deeper and deeper
as they absorb the negativity of my surroundings.
The sadistic nature of being
has instilled terror in my heart, a terror of the future—
for I’m not ready for my contempt of existence to flower.
I preferred being a seed.
As I blossom, I grow consumed by feelings of self-doubt,
tears falling, like petals in the springtime,
Will I survive the winter?
I preferred being a seed.
The strong winds of life rip me up by the roots.
I am slowly wilting and withering away as days pass,
unaware of when I will be trampled underfoot.
I remember the days of being a seed.
For remaining a seed would have been easier
than blossoming in a world slowly and aggressively plucking my petals.
I am nearly barren.
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 11:01 AM UTC
*in the midst of an emerald slumbering forest
laced with pungent scents of jaded wood
a burgundy blushed tail
of a chestnut hued fox
scurries as copper sunbeams part the day
a hospital lumes starkly nearby
its aura exudes hints of melancholy
commingled with faint impressions
of halcyon futures
not yet lived
at neighboring dartmouth
a student sprinting to class
drops his crimson colored backpack
the prospect of cancer
far from his budding consciousness
my beloved sits patiently
pondering pensively
his last chemo treatment
elusion of death
not far from his mind
i feign to fend off future catastrophes
watching letters scramble across my screen
earnestly writing
in a desperate attempt
to be with him forevermore
an aquamarine hummingbird drenched in tranquility
senses the inverse
its amber tipped wings stand seemingly stationary
while it steals a quick glance through the window
curious at chemical infusions meant to heal
my beloved walks out
of the austere building
with rose colored glasses i feel
that we’ll whirl on the tips of gilded stardust
dancing with another chance to fly
©2016janetaylor
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 1:19 AM UTC
There was a rose that faded young;
I saw its shattered beauty hung
Upon a broken stem.
I heard them say, "What need to care
With roses budding everywhere?"
I did not answer them.
There was a bird, brought down to die;
They said, "A hundred fill the sky--
What reason to be sad?"
There was a girl, whose lover fled;
I did not wait, the while they said,
"There's many another lad."
15k
Stories browsed by the bedside of budding of children
Told of all the adventure that awaited us
So I ran amok with my compatriots
Every one of us wreathed in youth
Burning with the boundless fuel
Of curiosity
From the streets spilled opportunities
Of Fame, Of Wealth, Of Love
Then eventually the Sun rays Bent
Before bleeding upon the stone
So that we traversed on bricks of yellow
Until sore legs led us
To an enchanted emerald mirror
And as we stared we began to wheeze
Seeing a frail old wizard or witch
Wondering “why” with a whimper
As curtains cradling clocks, crash upon us
Aug 6, 2018
Aug 6, 2018 at 8:47 PM UTC
I. The Mermaid
I am six years old,
and I am obsessed with Ariel
from The Little Mermaid--
she is, by far,
my favourite Disney Princess.
I want to be exactly like her--
hair billowing in red swirls
around a heart-shaped face
and eyes so blue they put the very
ocean to shame
(my sister has blue eyes too, you know,
and, to this day, I still envy her,
for her eyes are the loveliest
characteristic of her Beauty--
and believe me, there are many);
purple clam shells vibrant
against porcelain-doll skin
and fully blossomed *******
(in three years from now,
I will begin
to grow *****
elementary-school style,
over-ripe.
B Cups going on C cups
fated to become D Cups,
plum-sized
in comparison to the
budding mosquito bites of
my fellow classmates.
Barely a child,
womanhood threatens
to sexualize my girlish body
before I truly know
what sexualization is);
fins cutting through the water
gracefully in all their
green, iridescent glory
(little did I know that,
as I grew older,
"cutting" would adopt
a far more sinister meaning
in the context of my life).
But,
despite my admiration for Ariel,
I fail to understand her desire
to abandon her
under-sea rendezvous,
sunken treasures,
oceanic melodies to
"be where the people are."
This lack of approval I foster
exists due to the fact that I am
a firm believer of the magic
the aquatic realm (and Disney)
has to offer.
To this day,
I continue to maintain my stance--
that Ariel had been terribly wrong
in the choices she made--
but I have become cognizant of
different (and better) reasons
to argue my position;
after all,
and as a cartoon crab
had so wisely declared once,
"The human world--
it's a mess."
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 10:29 PM UTC
In the murky depths of muck and mire
hope flickers in hearts
courageous enough to believe;
sending out ripples in the waters
like a domino effect rewound.
Insignificant seedlings to the cruel eye
filled with light and promise
as yet unseen turned
Fragile sprouts in healing green
reaching up and out
to rest hopes on the water front,
as if to console one another -
we are not alone.
Against all odds, bean of India,
Keep going –
Power through the sluggish resistance
Of this darkened plane.
Though life seems lost in loneliness
Listen closely,
Hear the Whispering rumours of life beyond the deep
Of basking in light and life
beneath the welcoming heat
of a dancing sun.
A triumphant act of faith indeed,
to content oneself with growing,
never really knowing
what lies beyond the darkness.
I weep for you
with joy, O little pocket of hope
as you propel yourself forward -
such strength, such courage
for one who as yet knows not
of that rosey happiness,
that snow white purity
that lies beneath your shell.
I stand in awe of you;
You with your absurd elegant beauty
tracing your journey
accepting it as part of yourself
embracing who you once were.
The original rags to riches tale;
Roots in putrid, ravenous foundations
yet you yourself remain unstained.
The journey every bit as beautiful
as your glorious destination –
a testimony to your essential self.
I see you take up your stance
Front and centre, finally ready
to declare yourself to the world.
Budding beauty of new life
awake! open your eyes, your heart,
you dont have to hide anymore
the world is missing who you are.
And time births healing and growth.
Every flower blooms at her own pace;
Tentatively unfolding - delicate and fragile still
with gentle colours begging will I do?
Caught up in a lighter life
becoming bolder, blessed, nurtured
blooming bright, opened out
hello world, here I am.
Your wary days drowned, you claim your space,
Fill your space,
Make it your own.
The ethereal splendour of your gentle petals
Succeeded only by the loveliness within,
As you build up your legacy of hope
So wonder will not be lost in the falling petals
but made more beautiful still
in the healing gifts,
in nourishing others,
in the gifts you give of yourself
back to the world.
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 5:44 PM UTC
auburn days roll by
like the end of a lit
cigarette, with a
puff of smoke
and emotionless
lipstick stains.
seasons pass
like the whiskey
bottle is drained
to an end to
drown those
emotionless
lipstick stains.
tears tick by
like the bottle
of pills that
cover the crisp
bathroom floor
escaping the pain
of emotionless
lipstick stains.
life comes to a halt
like the budding
drops of crimson
blood that paint
my favorite
bracelet running
away from the
emotionless
lipstick stains.
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 9:44 PM UTC
He is a link between this and the coming world.
He is
A pure spring from which all thirsty souls may drink.
He is a tree watered by the River of Beauty, bearing
Fruit which the hungry heart craves;
He is a nightingale, soothing the depressed
Spirit with his beautiful melodies;
He is a white cloud appearing over the horizon,
Ascending and growing until it fills the face of the sky.
Then it falls on the flows in the field of Life,
Opening their petals to admit the light.
He is an angel, send by the goddess to
Preach the Deity's gospel;
He is a brilliant lamp, unconquered by darkness
And inextinguishable by the wind. It is filled with
Oil by Istar of Love, and lighted by Apollon of Music.
He is a solitary figure, robed in simplicity and
Kindness; He sits upon the lap of Nature to draw his
Inspiration, and stays up in the silence of the night,
Awaiting the descending of the spirit.
He is a sower who sows the seeds of his heart in the
Prairies of affection, and humanity reaps the
Harvest for her nourishment.
This is the poet -- whom the people ignore in this life,
And who is recognized only when he bids the earthly
World farewell and returns to his arbor in heaven.
This is the poet -- who asks naught of
Humanity but a smile.
This is the poet -- whose spirit ascends and
Fills the firmament with beautiful sayings;
Yet the people deny themselves his radiance.
Until when shall the people remain asleep?
Until when shall they continue to glorify those
Who attain greatness by moments of advantage?
How long shall they ignore those who enable
Them to see the beauty of their spirit,
Symbol of peace and love?
Until when shall human beings honor the dead
And forget the living, who spend their lives
Encircled in misery, and who consume themselves
Like burning candles to illuminate the way
For the ignorant and lead them into the path of light?
Poet, you are the life of this life, and you have
Triumphed over the ages of despite their severity.
Poet, you will one day rule the hearts, and
Therefore, your kingdom has no ending.
Poet, examine your crown of thorns; you will
Find concealed in it a budding wreath of laurel.
8.9k
Go hang yourself, you old M.D.!
You shall not sneer at me.
Pick up your hat and stethoscope,
Go wash your mouth with laundry soap;
I contemplate a joy exquisite
I'm not paying you for your visit.
I did not call you to be told
My malady is a common cold.
By pounding brow and swollen lip;
By fever's hot and scaly grip;
By those two red redundant eyes
That weep like woeful April skies;
By racking snuffle, snort, and sniff;
By handkerchief after handkerchief;
This cold you wave away as naught
Is the damnedest cold man ever caught!
Give ear, you scientific fossil!
Here is the genuine Cold Colossal;
The Cold of which researchers dream,
The Perfect Cold, the Cold Supreme.
This honored system humbly holds
The Super-cold to end all colds;
The Cold Crusading for Democracy;
The Führer of the Streptococcracy.
Bacilli swarm within my portals
Such as were ne'er conceived by mortals,
But bred by scientists wise and hoary
In some Olympic laboratory;
Bacteria as large as mice,
With feet of fire and heads of ice
Who never interrupt for slumber
Their stamping elephantine rumba.
A common cold, gadzooks, forsooth!
Ah, yes. And Lincoln was jostled by Booth;
Don Juan was a budding gallant,
And Shakespeare's plays show signs of talent;
The Arctic winter is fairly coolish,
And your diagnosis is fairly foolish.
Oh what a derision history holds
For the man who belittled the Cold of Colds!
10.8k
#*Morning falls
from a budding
cherry tree;
the colour
of nightsong’s
waning blossom
comes to be
an echo
only heard
by the wind
Soundless remnants
of an intimate
twilight odyssey
tarry thickly,
drifting lightly
through the landscape
of dawn
The hushed echo
wields the silent
reverie
of the night,
gently rippling
the rivers that run
through the heart
The poignant taste
of passionfruit lingers
in the sensory traces
of a warm
passing breeze;
penetrating
the lonely chill
of a naked night's
work of art
~
Jesse*#
Mar 14, 2018
Mar 14, 2018 at 2:20 PM UTC
Rain rain go away
We don’t want you here, your gloom and misery
your nourishment and catharsis.
We don’t want to be baptized under your command
or be surrounded by budding flowers
trickling streams
mud puddles.
Rain rain go way come again another day
Why do today what we can put off until tomorrow.
Let’s procrastinate the harbinger of life, the unrelenting cycle
Evaporation condensation precipitation evaporation .
We cannot delay, sit back and listen to the gentle patter.
Just enjoy the grey.
-AM
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 2:02 PM UTC
*
*In the terrain of a barren forest
In the forlorn of a lost ship
In the godforsaken-ness of fate
In the inhospitality of people
Either sides of the dunes
There walks Majnun, in rugged clothes
There sings Meera, in wedded bliss
Both - immersed in the dreams of LOVEz
Both delicate, both innocent
Both pure, both true
Both fresh - like budding blooms
Both living in harmony with Nature
Waiting for Krishna's and Layla's arrival
Knowing their BELOVEDz will come
Both - still intoxicated in LOVE
Half closed, drowsy eyes,
Blurred vision, drunkard steps
They walk, dance, sing and fall
Awaiting their LOVERz call
Don't show complete callousness
Do not wake these LOVERz at all
From their disconsolate state of being
Let a dust-storm or lash of rain
Shake their heart and being
As if Krishna and Layla
Have shaken their soul awake
Startled at the LOVER'z touch
Meera and Majnun look around,
Astonished & glancing everywhere
Searching to find their LOVERz
"Where is Krishna? Where is Layla?"
They run wild - deliriously mad
Until they find a mirage & a silhouette
In the blank space of air around them
There they rest - sit and talk
They laugh and chat in LOVE
Only we realize and know that
There is no one around them
Yet only they can see their LOVERz
Only they can feel their BELOVEDz
To play a colorful game of LOVE
Let Krishna give Meera a kiss
Let Meera twirl one more round
Let Layla peck Majnun cheeks
Let Majnun sing one more new ballad
Thus till date they are remembered
As tragedy folk-lore's LOVE
Our tragic LOVERz-BELOVEDz
Our Meera-Majnun
All these happens on
Either sides of the dunes*
*
Jul 25, 2019
Jul 25, 2019 at 11:58 PM UTC
Betwixt an atmosphere of a holy nature
By a classic serenade of Christian lullabies
Unceremoniously my body sways to the beat
For every moment that elapses
More and more I become electrified
As in the wake of your presence
A song of budding amour is evoked
Try I may to suppress this sensation,
Though upon a lie I'd asphyxiate
Please do not allow me to suffer
To languish within a plethora of
A sheer and utter coating of blindness
Darling forgive me if I impose
I avidly seek for signs of proof
To know if this is real
What would happen?
© 2011 (All rights reserved)
Dec 24, 2011
Dec 24, 2011 at 7:04 PM UTC
Mysterious, mist-kissed hills dismiss my dismal disdain
For Life’s strivings in the ivy wired mire.
Budding blossoms embrace my burgeoning bliss-filled *****
As my soul soars into the seething skies.
My wings are beating with breathless wonder,
My imagination sends me to a destination
Beyond discrimination, defying appellation,
But not exclamation, at this elevation.
Smooth pools of cool blue hue contrast with cliffs
That overhang the huddled houses
Of the hillside village
On the way to who knows where.
The mists are shifting, ever drifting
Hiding everything
Except the mountain tops.
A new dimension might await us
Always moving as
Our journey never stops.
Paul Butters
Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 5:16 PM UTC
Wintry boughs against a wintry sky;
Yet the sky is partly blue
And the clouds are partly bright:--
Who can tell but sap is mounting high
Out of sight,
Ready to burst through?
Winter is the mother-nurse of Spring,
Lovely for her daughter's sake,
Not unlovely for her own :
For a future buds in everything;
Grown, or blown,
Or about to break.
6.3k
you went sledding
with the kids
while I filed the paperwork
and cried
I used to be your lady boy
shining in green pit-bar light
as you kissed me like
the kids were with my mother
stuck at the bottom of the
treehouse slide in a pile
in mud
laughing
when
in reality they were
just budding inside of you
fertilized with apple liquor
and the perfume smoking
from my chest as you
unbuttoned the first few
revealing the scar left by
my brother's first pocket knife
the skin of my young years
the skin I am wearing now
cut by these ******* papers as
you freeze
tearlessly
in a pom pom hat
teaching our babies how to make
the perfect snowball
Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 10:18 AM UTC
I’m a none,
Escaped from myself
Just to be an anonymous
A nameless face
Harboring a soul,
Inspiring reflection,
In a finite of time
Travelling in a circle
Over crosses and lines,
Budding path of life
Sacrificing all the senses
Truth is one, perceived it in a different way
Feb 17, 2018
Feb 17, 2018 at 7:39 PM UTC
The shivering eyeglasses lazily coating the ground
Break way to the budding of the season.
To reincarnate is to live the anomaly,
The evergreen boughs bend in the wind.
Coalescing crystals form dew on our morn
To leave a fresh taste, on lips, on tongue.
The time is imminent, but the dawn is young,
My white Orchid, born to the sun.
Simply, optically, it's to weak to touch
Unworthy digits, to blind to see.
My scarlet levees, to right to feel.
The ivory blossom, to right to be real.
Under the canopies, the shimmering outline
Moves closer until the mirror cracks
And our reflections are polymorphicly one,
Our hearts still polyamorously two.
I yearn to dream of lucid lavender,
The aroma surrounds the dream, still dreamed
The scent so real, or so it seemed
Encapsulating this moment in amber.
Until we sleep, until we fly
Together. Our wings open to embrace the quilted high.
Our mouths embrace to fill the void,
Unleash the magic, bathing us in light
Bricks and mortar overlap my thoughts
But time alone is not a wall.
Time alone, it cannot fall
And it still ticks with the beat of my pendulum.
Oh flower, oh life, vitality aplenty.
Your hideousness, a secret untold,
Withers to your beauty, yet to unmold.
Le voyage fantasme is here for me now.
And now the grains slip between my toes.
The sandcastles caress the glass of our hour.
It's never too late, but always on time,
So before the light fades, kiss me and say
"I'll sleep tonight,
I'll dream of you."
Orchid, my Orchid, love, my love
I'll dream with you forever.
Nov 3, 2010
Nov 3, 2010 at 7:39 PM UTC
underneath the covers, no worries of lovers
too busy focused on the uncovering of all my budding flowers
of all my seeds sproutings, if spirit is allowing
springtime is my favourite, it's a fresh start
to be better and bigger than before
to pick yourself up and wish for more
so I will wish for more, more than men who are decor
so I wish to explore, a man not plagued with internal wars
one that is not afraid to see what lies behind the door
one that is not afraid to let their heart pour
Apr 5, 2022
Apr 5, 2022 at 10:37 AM UTC
The urgent care is the nursery
Where I choose my seeds with thought.
The doctor is the gardener
Who knows how to fix what I’ve wrought.
She sows the seeds inside my skin,
Yet not with a trowel or ***
She uses a needle and surgical thread,
With budding knots lined up in a row.
Then she leaves me with my tidy ground
And some knowledge on how I should care
For the lined up plot she’s left to me,
Whose potential I’m required to bear.
The deep rivet I slashed into my skin
Is where the seedlings take root.
The blood from my veins keeps them moist
As the new blossoms stand resolute.
But when the weather grows dark and dreary,
My sprouts need cover from the cold.
So I bundle them up with jeans and sweats
To protect them and let them take hold.
But despite the layers I pile atop,
The small spiny blooms poke through.
I run my fingers back and forth,
And marvel at how fast they grew.
Then after they’ve grown for fourteen days,
I return to the nursery at last.
The gardener plucks and prunes and picks
‘Til the wounds and the blooms come to pass.
So now the perennials have passed us by,
And the sprouts have been taken to bin.
The wound that watered my seedlings’ through,
Has left but a scar on my skin.
Jan 23, 2022
Jan 23, 2022 at 11:20 AM UTC
Sugar maple’s immature leaves bounce lively on the breeze
Robins frolic through dandelions and freshly cut grass
Brilliant brightness peeks through clouds warming my face
Families of rabbits skip through budding yellow tulips
Lavender lilacs dance with dogwood blossoms tickling my nose
Baby woodpecker taps at the sycamore branch
Fat bumblebees buzz from cherry bloom to zinnia bloom
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 1:24 PM UTC