"buoyancy" poems
Scattered across my bedroom floor,
glimmers of light staccato on wilted rose pedals
Memories of us,
the faintest slapback of the person I was with you,
flicker with lethargic buoyancy
Fondness for fondness sake,
denial as a delicacy
Your face, obscured in these floral polaroids
Impressions of who you were;
what you meant to me,
a struggle to behold
but recognizable in ripples across the faces of others
Remains of an entanglement that seemed to answer
why the universe was even formed to begin with
This omnipresent truth laying abed the other
jagged reality of our affair;
it was never you,
it was my self-possessing pursuit of wholeness
Mar 13, 2019
Mar 13, 2019 at 9:10 AM UTC
Faith the is the buoyancy of life,
Faith in up above keeps me alive,
The faith keeps me afloat,
The faith gives me hope
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 5:36 AM UTC
I sit in the top of the wood, my eyes closed.
Inaction, no falsifying dream
Between my hooked head and hooked feet:
Or in sleep rehearse perfect kills and eat.
The convenience of the high trees!
The air's buoyancy and the sun's ray
Are of advantage to me;
And the earth's face upward for my inspection.
My feet are locked upon the rough bark.
It took the whole of Creation
To produce my foot, my each feather:
Now I hold Creation in my foot
Or fly up, and revolve it all slowly -
I **** where I please because it is all mine.
There is no sophistry in my body:
My manners are tearing off heads -
The allotment of death.
For the one path of my flight is direct
Through the bones of the living.
No arguments assert my right:
The sun is behind me.
Nothing has changed since I began.
My eye has permitted no change.
I am going to keep things like this.
5.4k
Like crystal sand pebbles
Washed away from seashore
Like shooting stars in space
Propelled out of the night sky
Our beautiful black pearls
Young and innocent and ambitious
Full of life, full of tomorrow
Were stolen away in daylight
Away from unnatural habitats
Away from unsafe clusters
Away from our sleepy watchful eyes
Loosing their buoyancy
To the same fearsome monsters
That have plagued the land much
Bursting balloons at parties
Bringing mayhem as they visit
Making our warriors look childish
Forcing help from the world over.
The sun has gone to sleep
The moon has loomed too long
But to hope, we will cling
Till we find our lost pebbles…
© Raphael Uzor
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 6:37 PM UTC
a storm rages outside
sky, overcast with clouds
fearful sounds echo through
the mountain crannies
like that of shrieking bats in flight
trees shiver under wind’s might
everything around
presages an impending doom
the least pressure would suffice
to let all the hellfire loose
sitting in my dim lit room
with all the windows shut
unable to drown the emptiness
afloat in irrepressible buoyancy
I glance over the balance sheet
of my life
all sweet memories gone
shaking their mane
like horses galloping away
bitter memories
only bitter memories remain!
May 10, 2018
May 10, 2018 at 11:41 AM UTC
Dawn gently kissed the nape of dusk
Whilst patient time awaited peaking
Majestic streams of solar lust
Born via pre-orgasmic streaking
Saturn's rings exclusive ******
Equipped for sensual fancy
Mesmerized by daring billows
Elevated by buoyancy
Excitement steadily evolving
Cosmic spheres swiftly building
****** timelessly revolving
Licentious shock she is wielding
Dawn coloured blackened skies
Pleasure falling with each tear
****** baring lovely sighs
Passion with a wince of fear
© 2012 (All rights reserved)
Feb 4, 2012
Feb 4, 2012 at 1:30 AM UTC
*the state or quality of being elastic.
flexibility; resilience; adaptability: a statement with a great elasticity of meaning.
buoyancy; ability to resist or overcome depression.
Physics. the property of a substance that enables it to change its length, volume, or shape in direct response to a force effecting such a change and to recover its original form upon the removal of the force.*
are you ready?
here it comes!
Slap!
having slapped you
with, to kind attention,
you may now recover
your original form,
when there was
no grief, no distress,
the great clarity
of eying the day's birth,
sweetly and innocently.
once again, you are
buoyant,
molecules of polluted memories,
erased.
wind scattered, gone,
blackboard erased,
whiteboard replaced.
you have been reminded,
even reprimanded,
for forgetting your
elasticity.
life, what ever that be,
is constant motion,
a reshaping of the heart,
for the heart has
no unique shape.
it's adaptation,
it's elasticity,
it's genetic forgive and forget ability,
is legend, is you,
you are legend,
You are elastic.
the human hallmark impressed
in the palms of your hands,
that cannot be erased
by time, fatigue, failure, or anger,
the hands that mold,
re-form for every need,
for every handhold,
for different are:
The hands that open closed fists
The hands that wave hi
The hands that are first to touch
and the last to leave,
waving goodbye,
elastic - tender when tender needed,
strong when strength essences.
so be elastic,
remember to be
ecstatic
remember
when you do,
you need show proofs.
Prove it to me.
Prove it to yourself.
shake, kiss, dare hug,
the one who needs reminding
that life is elastic,
even more than you.
Dec 26, 2013
Dec 26, 2013 at 5:07 AM UTC
Dear Poet Friends, I hope you like this slice of Early History presented
below in simple verse. Please do read the short notes at the end, before giving your comments. Thanks, - Raj
ARCHIMEDES : THE PIONEERING
STREAKER OF HISTORY!
There lived in the Third Century BC, in the Sicilian
town of Syracuse, then a Greek colony,
A Greek mathematician named Archimedes.
He was tasked by King Hiero of his town,
To find the purity of gold in his crown;
Suspicious of the goldsmith having mixed
some material of inferior kind,
Which the King wanted Archimedes to find!
So, Archimedes lost in thought one day,
Entered the public bath on his way!
And as his body began to get submerged,
He happened to notice perchance,
Water spilling over from the tub!
The answer suddenly flashed across his
mind,
And he jumped up leaving everything
behind,
Wearing only his birthday suit,
Running through the street of Syracuse,
Exclaiming - “Eureka! Eureka!”
(I have found it! I have found it!)
Perhaps to become the first known streaker
of History!
While establishing the Principles of Buoyancy!
@ (see notes)
Archimedes, son of the astronomer Pheidias,
studied at the great Alexandrian city,
Remembered even to this day for his many
pioneering works, -
In Hydrostatics, Mechanics, and Geometry.
With his ingenious mechanical discoveries,
He held the great Roman galleys of Marcellus
at bay,
For more than three years, as Plutarch the
Roman Historian says! + (see notes)
Later one day, while lost in deep thought,
When some intricate problem of geometry
he was trying to resolve,
Refused to hear Marcellus' bidding,
To be slain by the Roman soldiers who had
come to fetch him!
O those Romans, with lesser brains and more
brawn!
And some hundred and thirty years after
his death in 75 BC,
Cicero, then the Roman Governor of Sicily,
Found the tomb of great Archimedes, near the
Agrigentine Gate, over grown with bushes and
thorns;
Where he lay buried in the scented dust of History!
- Raj Nandy, New Delhi.
NOTES:
@ Principle of Buoyancy = any floating object displaces its own
weight of fluid. So weight displaced by a crown of pure gold and
the one already made could be compared to find the truth!
+ Archimedes designed large stone throwers, & crossbows, and
also grappling hooks using large cranes to grab Roman ships and
capsize them!
Jun 25, 2016
Jun 25, 2016 at 9:04 AM UTC
I reference this not as the flower just of nature but in this case for the fact it is our anniversary this is an
Oleander of my heart yes the heart is a house all of my feelings and emotions are housed there the
Flower I choose to write about is my sister my wife’s sister Liz it’s kind of appropriate since she was the
Only one in our wedding party as we were married before a judge I guess she was a witness a witness to
The crime as it were to describe her I can use Roy Orbison’s song pretty woman a blonde cutie with
Southern roots in Tennessee now she is a near Chicago northerner take southern nights and northern
Bright lights infuse them with grace and charm you have begun to see the Oleander that lies beyond my
Door yard along my walk and borders the yard of my heart the glistening in the spring rain if you get real
Still you can hear tiny sounds of laughter among the joy filled faces the scented bloom fills my living
Room where ever I am eye catching satisfying delightful spring and summer what a wonder the spilling
Forth of fruitful life she matches the rose in pose an attitude of significance tinged with just enough
Brashness to hold your attention until you become beholden to the inner life that shows character
Wisdom authority a driven wind that lays down in the most beautiful fashion only to arise and make the
Trees sing the glass to shake in the most enjoyable way all in unison they dance the eye stormed by this
Profusion of elegance and color truly a best friend to the wayward wind carried near and far secrets rest
Within the heart that the Oleander knows and claims in darkness unflappable a sweet ghostliness an
Arbor found sweetly remembered but never forgotten unspoiled withstanding the day’s heat showing
Resilience a buoyancy of sprit uncommon the thrill that runs with deep rootedness when the sharp wind
Does blow she through power of will brings calm a flourish of maturity so lovely that is outstanding in all
these gifts she provides the greatest is she calls me friend thanks sis
Jul 6, 2013
Jul 6, 2013 at 6:53 PM UTC
A fount of grace pouring out into my backyard,
I found there,
There was such a buoyancy to the arching lines,
There was a wild cherry tree blooming,
its scent loaded the air,
filled my nostrils with its bouquet.
Trumpeted its whiteness to the blue sky
The sound was deafening,
glissandi of softness,
felled all gloom,
felled my fears,
and filled my soul with joy.
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 6:18 PM UTC
You took me to the beach house
along Amaryllis Street
so I could pick up where you left off
crushing waves against the rocks
the high tide
re-collecting in time-lapse images
how you had vanished up the dirt road of a lie
(sand between my teeth, on my tongue)
how I had buried bulbs of Amaryllis
in the wake of your goodbye
a casket of dormancy suspended
an unanchored buoyancy disposing of I
in seaweed trenches
besides
the Amaryllis bloomed
a distant wreath of pink trumpet heads
splitting
pushing through the time-lapse
holograms of a shallow rhizome mind
Jan 12, 2016
Jan 12, 2016 at 1:27 PM UTC
Now deadline entrapped!
Deadline to safe life
Deadline to take food
Deadline to drink water
Deadline to breathe air!
Now dead line entrapped!
Deadline to recharge vitality
Deadline to recharge vanity
Deadline to recharge - cover-up felony!
Now deadline entrapped!
Deadline to makeover
Deadline to sprawl
Deadline to crawl
Deadline to growl
Deadline to haul!
Now deadline entrapped!
Deadline to behold toxicity
Deadline to amuse atrocity
Deadline to submit buoyancy
Deadline to ****** and welcome grief I
It is the deadline for post modern reformation!
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 5:29 PM UTC
They are
monotony.
Pulchritudinous
aesthetics,
Alleviation
to
seclusion.
Do you not feel the heat – my wrist on yours
burn tales more rich than ours on nights more dark
than souls too tense to feel the eyes of God
draw shame on backs of necks so close?
Or is it
just me?
Conjuring
fraudulence
Accrediting
ludicrous
buoyancy
I know its there I know the life that flows
through limbs of mine can move through cloth to touch
the skin of yours I hear your eyes I see your voice
I breath you in why else are we so close?
And
innocent
And
serene
And
happy
And
secluded.
How can you sit not feel those things I feel
not think those thoughts I think not see your wrist
sink in to flesh as soft and pink as lips
I long to taste? We are al-ways al-ways
al-ways al-ways al-ways al-ways
so close...
They are
tolerable
Doused
ardor
maybe.
Benumbed
incandescence
maybe.
But still
They are
here.
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 5:43 PM UTC
sunshine seeps through blue dresses
and laughing echoes via open windows
with rays on my shoulders
and caresses on my nose.
splashes of rainwater glisten in the sun
with camisoles and lingerie above.
fulfilling stances of smiles and buoyancy
as i sway in my mary janes.
my snow-white blouse feels loose.
i inhale with ease
as the humidity offers a veil
over my bare shoulders.
the bitter moon has inched over
the prospect; the blue skies
have twisted and crooked to black.
dust lynches off disgusting, damp garments.
the moon hits the violet vests,
and cries are blocked by closed doors.
there is artificial light on my skeleton
and slaps printed across my face.
this deceitful place.
with obscure deceptions on every corner.
this circle of life really is bittersweet.
day is kind and night is not.
when the gangsters come out.
when mommy and daddy aren’t so ecstatic.
when brooklyn is authentic.
and your snow-white blouse feels tight.
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 1:55 PM UTC
For 18 years of my life,
I've never dedicated Valentine's Day
to the true love(s) of my life.
I've wasted years
attempting to make artificial temporary women
special
...only to be left stranded weeks later.
This new epiphany
forces me to dedicate today to the women
who've stuck by my side for all my life,
not once wanting or attempting to detach themselves.
To my Mom,
you gave me life
and you continue giving me life.
You're far from openly emotional
but there has been a myriad of times
where I've derived some sort of buoyancy
within you,
forcing your heart to double its beats.
There have been times where
...I've witnessed you at your worst,
tears streaming down your face
as you comfort me when it's you who truly needed the comfort.
You're a strong beautiful woman
and you are my Valentine,
I love you and wouldn't trade you for anything.
To my Aunt,
sometimes I fail to see how you're human.
You're more like a radiant sun that never sets.
If I need someone for absolutely anything,
I know it's you to run to first.
You go out of your way to ensure
my success and positive energies remain at their pique.
There isn't a thing you don't know about me
but no matter how extreme,
the love you emit towards and for me never seems to change.
Our relationship goes beyond,
aunt and nephew.
We're more like best-friends
and you are my Valentine.
I love you and wouldn't trade you for anything.
I've been through so many futile relationships
and these two are my only lasting ones,
seemingly sempiternal.
No matter how many women enter my life,
my aunt and mom will remain the top women in my life.
Happy Valentines Day.
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 9:48 AM UTC
Life's Predispositions
In the chapel of his soul
and in the steeple of his mind
votive candles burn,
bright and iridescent,
perpetual,
red, yellow, green
and blue.
He sits in there,
a chapel for one,
in a mist
of confusion,
in a mess,
searching for answers,
as his life is waning,
escaping,
like an Autumn wind
blowing the pages of his life
... stillness,
of bookmarks,
still on page one,
he hatched, once.
All around him,
dark,
and cold,
like a winter chill,
snow banks withdrawing,
his sad existence.
Still he looks up
to Jesus on the cross.
Warmth.
In the chapel of his soul
and in the steeple of his mind
votive candles burn,
large,
bright and iridescent,
perpetual,
another rainbow stretching
it's arcs for him.
He backs away.
He bemoans life,
small,
it's endowments on him.
His parent's mistake
on a dark, eerie
loveless night...
and their cutting words
"You were a mistake,"
words
that grew on him,
like barnacles
clinging to him,
eating away his buoyancy,
like a ship sinking.
In the birth of another spring,
flowers blossoms,
rivers gushing down
mountains and mountains
of pollination,
life,
he has a lone branch
waiting ... somewhere.
Such stillness.
Such stigmatization
from his parents
loveless past.
A mistake they conceded.
It had an effect on him,
darker than the blackest sheep
that he was.
What predispositions.
When the summer harvests
arrive,
fields smiling their wares,
he scowled
he scowled the corn,
subsistence,
life,
the changing seasons,
his short change
of life.
Rainbows.
Why are the birds
singing to me?
Why?
The voices
in his head
chirping,
continuing.
What message thou
bring to an orphan?
Still he looks up
to Jesus on the cross.
Warmth.
His eyes squint.
Dad, mom.
And whispers words
that don't need
to be said,
closure.
Logan Robertson
6/01/17
Jun 1, 2017
Jun 1, 2017 at 4:16 PM UTC
I dreamt
of becoming
an oarsman
on the
rowing team
fervently
pumping my
arms to
the cadence call
as the craft
chased the
twilight
moon
under sequential
bridges
but woke up
remembering
my buoyancy
is like unto
a large
rock
Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 6:06 PM UTC
Often, the shallows are a good place to be,
Once out of there, no going back, not ever,
Once noticed, return is virtually impossible,
And all pedestals are shaky, no roots: none!
Ensure buoyancy, for one must sink or swim,
So much expected, so much demanded,
One may think shallows are unkind, a waste,
They are safe, though, friendly, pleasant,
Conducive company encouraging creation.
Once out of them, away from safe shores,
New challenges arise, new horizons, all new,
Making one desperate not to fail, not to sink,
One must swim, swim for your life; swim hard,
For it hurts to disappoint, it hurts so much.
Without the grassy bank and sandy bottom,
Creation is difficult, beware the sharks: teeth,
Scoot around the crocs, teeth snapping: biting,
Desiring your tender unsuspecting flesh!
See the glory-hogs wallowing, laughing at you,
Howling with derision; they know nothing,
Stupid hacks, every one of them, frolicking,
Performing in the deep, dark, dangerous-depths,
Unaware their blood will soon feed others,
The swirling waters running red: eventually.
Safer here with golden fish and humble toads,
Prometheus swims here as well as anywhere,
Savour the shallows, dance with creativity,
If you must leave, identity switch required,
Even then, watch sharks and crocs: teeth biting,
Often, the shallows are a good place to be.
©Paul Chafer 2014
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 8:19 AM UTC
Through trial & error.
I admit I was afraid to love.
Opening up felt tremendous.
Having known the fear of failure.
I was afraid to drown, admiring the ocean from a far.
The current which she dove.
She'd offer her ocean.
Currents pulled strong only she knew it's depth.
I lacked understanding.
Appearing to move closer,
At which point these currents grew darker.
I trusted myself, longing to become a single wave swirled in thought.
Focused on simple clarity.
I didn't want to be like the rest.
Knowing the beauty she possessed.
I feared drowning the most.
Learning to float.
The buoyancy of reassurance.
The things neither of us said aloud.
In the end it wasn't that I was afraid of love.
It was her that I feared.
Admiring from the shore.
The best thing I've ever known.
Diving in head first
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 9:01 AM UTC
To the soft strains of the sea
The booming of distant hill and
mountain
The stars dance about, waltz in the
night.
Where atop of a startled canopy of
leaves
A moon like a big owl sits, ready to
pounce
The sea rising steadily now
Inching its way up onto the shore
Giving added buoyancy to the sailing
boats
Nestling in the jaw of the bay.
Apr 11, 2018
Apr 11, 2018 at 6:38 PM UTC
Look into the Innenhof
not out upon the rain-slick street
it’s easier
that way.
Decadent hail at the window
brings the history of rain
running, dripping
down your languid gaze.
Dream important things
are taking place inside the Innenhof—
while the water rises
they choke under its weight.
More water, green and choppy
the Innenhof is undone
sloshing, wet and pure, immobile—
birds are drowning.
Out of the frothy wash
your place bobs to the surface
freed of its moorings
in boring things.
You are lucky and precarious
floating on your hollow buoyancy
waiting for the rain to quit
watching the slow clouds break.
Feb 1, 2010
Feb 1, 2010 at 7:30 PM UTC
floral effervescence
wafts around you
thy theo black temperament rose iq
ushers lulabies as playful amor kru
apollo is falling for the aquamarine
rays, reflecting the sea's craved ardour
and our love is like a cyclamen oleandro
the fascinating, dissolving, poisonous sleep
inwardly unaware of the whitest clouds oro
seducing the beauty of a ceruelan absolute ~
if i were the wave i would foam your dream
if you were a black panther i'd be your kaa
for a day to experience your mighty paws
to tremble like open window shutters, strickened
by the fire, by light, by thunderbolt's love flame
oh, come on, come on sweet man of the fantasia
i've got to tell you i ain't foolin' around those dim
alleys at nights like this; luscious calls lure hello
at least, hear my hearts deepest throbbings, hear
them, embrace them, conquer my world's cream
taste the strawberry sweeteness on a tip of me, u
trickle your tongue against my open buoyancy
write kaligrafic words of love's invisible tint
beautify the untouched pergament, maestro
write like there's no time nor tomorrow's no;
inaugure every christmas crickets flash mob
within you and awaken me from a slumber,
deeply rooted, lovely and mild as wood's chi
and I will cherish you, praise and love long
forgotten wild forest's animals as panacea
for the dissolving salt upon a love wound
which torchered your solitude for who's
pleasure, for what reason, for a slick slap
of an epic trustful faith as lux aeterna
crashing the myth of a love superior;
a desolation of waning touches soma
hiding its fragility in madmind's attempt
to overcome what's earth's given inferno;
to die in a lustful blazing heat of creatio
contemplating about heavenly key lock
how to forge a golden key to your anima,
gracefully giving a hand to her emperor
to dance on a verge of an existence' folie
to blossom upon hushed world's meridian
in dreamy space n' time, first darlin' flush
the prime animus dances, dares, waters~
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 3:50 PM UTC
My mind, yes, it stayed afloat, when my ears knew the buoyancy of birdsong in spring,
My heart, no, it was never thus remote, when my eyes would loiter in lyrical landscapes and time did tolerate my wandering.
Despair, it was a burden much lighter to bear, when gilded so gloriously with sunlight's touch,
The air, it was a breathing love affair, when summer's generous joy forbade me to miss you this much.
Feb 27, 2021
Feb 27, 2021 at 8:02 PM UTC
*I stared out the window
and looked out to the sea
to see that my wave of nostalgia
had been waved back to me
I swallowed the ocean's cruel reciprocation
like I swallowed my tears
both were salty and bitter,
reminiscent of all the nights where I had drowned in my fears
My sinking ship, are you still out there,
and are you coming home today?
and if you return from your world of blue,
will you leave after you get what you need, or will you come listen to all the things I have to say?
My love: the world is lonely, and the sky is crying
not even the flowers bloom in full content
the smiling sun is all we have left to mask the pain behind suburban gates, but it fails to assuage my only complaint:
when you stood on the shore and said that I was your anchor, you never told me just what you meant
Where did you go,
and do you even still care?
oh, my sinking ship, no matter how far you stray,
look to the waves and the sunset for me, for my heart is bound to meet you there*
-n.a.
Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 2:15 PM UTC
I've been floating in the sea,
Marveling an empty sky,
Bobbing up and down through waves unbound,
Towards an elusive horizon.
No sharks try to pull me down,
No seabirds help me fly,
No boats stop to pull me out,
But no one's left me abandoned.
I don't know how I got here,
Or what I'm meant to do,
Perhaps I'm supposed to float,
Maybe I'm just here out of the blue.
Rather quaint in size,
Compared to the composite surface,
This liquid surrounds me,
But it's motives are dispersed.
Dec 3, 2011
Dec 3, 2011 at 3:32 PM UTC