"cajoling" poems
*To every soul who offered me joy,
Comforting and cajoling,
To you, I am grateful.
To every soul who taught me hurt,
Gifting me lessons of woe,
To you, I am grateful.
To every soul who loved me,
Your love is my beacon,
I have discovered you in that warmth,
I have beheld you in that luminescence,
To you, I am grateful.
To every soul who abandoned me,
You have nudged me on
Nearer and surer, to my grand source.
To you, I am grateful.
Whether I may realize,
Whether I may trust,
I have found the supreme Radiance
In this universe
Just as simply as I opened my eyes.
To you, I am grateful.*
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 12:18 PM UTC
1483
The Robin is a Gabriel
In humble circumstances—
His Dress denotes him socially,
Of Transport’s Working Classes—
He has the punctuality
Of the New England Farmer—
The same oblique integrity,
A Vista vastly warmer—
A small but sturdy Residence
A self denying Household,
The Guests of Perspicacity
Are all that cross his Threshold—
As covert as a Fugitive,
Cajoling Consternation
By Ditties to the Enemy
And Sylvan Punctuation—
5.5k
Coarse and rough,pure and true
You are my angel of a nascent hue
Far away the rain clouds lay
Begging to meet my angel each day!
You are shy,veiled in a shroud,you are
Cozy,warm and safe with your lover,the Star
You say,you forgot me,so soon,I hear?
Is it because behind your back I disappeared?
I thought without me,you'd be in gloom
Remember,how,in your soundless cacophony,I swooned?
You ignited my heart,gave life to me
In your sandy storms,you entwined me,to set me free
I roamed,in love with you,in old directions,anew
Now,the storms are raging,the knights banter and look for you
Stay back,my angel,shy,behind the rocks where you grew
Let the thunder clouds darken around you
Protect your lovers,like and me and some others,few
Illusive and Elusive,you play games with me
Cajoling my feelings,and bringing me down to my knees
****** and lascivious,you don't disappoint
My savior,my sins and sorrows,you anoint
Winds of insanity rove around you,my eyes they enter
I cry,it's sand,worthless to all but me,soft and tender
I can't go on quenched of thirst and thought
I fall broken,crushed,will I be besought?
Care for the others,with you,I left,please
My guardian,my desert,hide forever with me in the shadow of bliss.
Apr 29, 2012
Apr 29, 2012 at 5:11 AM UTC
you are right to not believe
for you
the silent cries
that carry into the night
do not existence the volume
of your tv is adjusted
& everything becomes
a mute apparition
illuminated
but not heard.
you are right not to believe
for you
the sounds of gunshots
are the popping of fire crackers
after holiday barbecues
& the screams
come from parades of people
cajoling down side streets.
you are right not to believe
for you
the only hanging you know
exists in laundry whites
bleached towels are a must
for wiping hands
clean
& unstained
from the bloodied bodies
of loved ones.
you are right not to believe
for you
the world doesn't exist
beyond these bordered white picket fences
& bakes sales
until your mexican comes
to clean
suburbia
when will you realize
the war to be fought
runs beyond 5’o clock rush hour
& taking away your son’s ps4?
Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 8:17 PM UTC
Almost happy now, he looked at his estate.
An exile making watches glanced up as he passed,
And went on working; where a hospital was rising fast
A joiner touched his cap; an agent came to tell
Some of the trees he'd planted were progressing well.
The white alps glittered. It was summer. He was very great.
Far off in Paris, where his enemies
Whispered that he was wicked, in an upright chair
A blind old woman longed for death and letters. He would write
"Nothing is better than life." But was it? Yes, the fight
Against the false and the unfair
Was always worth it. So was gardening. Civilise.
Cajoling, scolding, screaming, cleverest of them all,
He'd had the other children in a holy war
Against the infamous grown-ups, and, like a child, been sly
And humble, when there was occasion for
The two-faced answer or the plain protective lie,
But, patient like a peasant, waited for their fall.
And never doubted, like D'Alembert, he would win:
Only Pascal was a great enemy, the rest
Were rats already poisoned; there was much, though, to be done,
And only himself to count upon.
Dear Diderot was dull but did his best;
Rousseau, he'd always known, would blubber and give in.
So, like a sentinel, he could not sleep. The night was full of wrong,
Earthquakes and executions. Soon he would be dead,
And still all over Europe stood the horrible nurses
Itching to boil their children. Only his verses
Perhaps could stop them: He must go on working: Overhead
The uncomplaining stars composed their lucid song.
2.6k
Night appears in an avatar
of a sweet chaperon,
coming with a lovely dark gown
to dress the shy, blushing evening
cajoling her for a slow make over,
she implies, it's better letting
the will of darkness prevail.
Now she is a perfect charmer
night, lets her long dark tresses
loose, that flows in waves
down through her back and
caresses her rotund proud buttocks,
adding to her silent grandeur,
till the next spectacular day breaks.
Night is an ace temptress
with full moon at her side
as an irresistible magical charm
to sway even nature, catch
the sea in her net,
of attraction and makes it dance,
bewitching night makes
the stars in her coiffure gleam.
Night is an agile courtesan,
having royal patronage,
eyeing you wistfully,
hellbent upon her this day's conquest,
her amatory skills one can tell
will be kinky,she is classy nevertheless.
In her boudoir, women are salacious,
hungry men too dance to her tunes,
what you gain after a spirited
amorous duel, is the gift of dark eyed night.
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 6:51 AM UTC
I taste sweet nectar
each night I sleep without you
clawing at the fabric of my dreams
seeding my subconscious with self-doubt
Mr Resentment and Mrs Regret
my erstwhile lovers
one, cajoling and seductive
the other, spooning and insistent
together, sleep-deprived and unsated
we made for a corrupt ménage à trois
I taste sweet nectar
every night I spend with you
my new bedfellow
Ms Forgiveness
Jan 8, 2019
Jan 8, 2019 at 3:37 PM UTC
Unfolding into itself, inviolable
in prosaic self-penetration,
a boundless repertoire
of shape yearns forth surreptitiously
from inscrutable amniotes to claim
time as its own:
Here a thicket
of sycamores, there a baldaquin
of pinnate branches, yonder
a periphery of marigolds, below
a cacophony of hyraxes, above
the corpuscle of a lynx, the mid-flight
jink of a darting swift and moribund
crawl of a mollusk;
Hymenoptera coaxing
their haploid broods into teeming
life as a cell of the swarm
and viviparous apes cajoling
suckling chimerae at the fathomless
fountainhead of a rosy breast;
Higher still,
Cirrus cephalopods traversing
the trench of sky, dandelions
hitch-hiking the drift of a barren plains'
wavering hum on cockchafers'
forewings and a turbine's
bombinating pulse, the chattering
of roots ravenous for depth --
Jittering bangtails the hallowed echoes
of lascivious manes --
inchoate sprout-hood the daedal
nonage of towering evergreens --
the plaintive shrift of elegiac
redbreasts a goad to silent elation --
A likeness unlike
(vocabularies of vertiginous blinds)
(the eyes of ignorance closing)
(the mouth of the mystery)
that spurns the truth of tongues
is nature naturing.
Dec 21, 2015
Dec 21, 2015 at 6:06 PM UTC
Moonlight washed me in its white crane wing
And she didn’t know I was far away
Quietly leaving her door!
Each glistening grain spoke her pain
Cajoling me to go back to her warmth
And not court the windswept shore!
*How would they know I was not there seeking love
But dig deep the earthen night
Find something more!
Something more than love
More treasurable more eternal
Waiting to be discovered in that lunar carnival!*
The sea knew the secret
But the waves wouldn’t return
What’s destined as a lover’s fate!
As the night waned in hush
Dimmed the moonshine
Slowed the wind’s rush
I stood on her door
Begged her
And she took me in her warmth
She knew
I couldn’t be far!
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 2:25 AM UTC
*
*A robber slipped inside my heart's abode
And deposited a treasure trove of SOUL LOVE
A burglar slipped outside my soul's spirit
And took away the treasure trove of my SOUL LOVE
Both the things happened simultaneously
Without my knowing
By doing that - since that day
The robber and burglar have
Became integral part of my life & living
What has happened to me now?
Now I am responsible for
Robber's SOUL LOVE that's inside me
I also want back that SOUL LOVE
That is taken away by the burglar
I am in an unique state now
I think I am in LOVE now...
My eyes are running after
Cajoling the robber and the burglar
Who even though seems
Physically away from me
Are residing inside my being -
My Heart & SOUL
Thus I am attempting to search for
The same robber and burglar
Inside and outside my being
I was surprised and shocked
When the police came to arrest me
Mistaking me as a robber & a burglar
Interrogating me for
Days, weeks, months and years
For robbery and burglary of
"SOUL LOVEz"
I said:
"I am just a LOVERz who is
Safe guarding a SOUL LOVE of a robber"
I said:
"I am just a LOVERz who is searching
For the SOUL LOVE that's taken away by a burglar"
Need I say anything further?
I was made a LOVERz by fateful destiny
And I am suspected as a Robber and Burglar
Oh my BELOVEDz
The one who has
Deposited SOUL LOVE in me
Oh my BELOVEDz
The one who has
Taken away my SOUL LOVE
Can I say this to YOU?
"Let me keep your SOUL LOVE with me
Please keep my SOUL LOVE with YOU"
By the way if YOU do not mind
Let us deposit both of our SOUL LOVEz
Into "ONE" LOCKER of
"ETERNAL UNCONDITIONAL AGAPE LOVE"*
*
Mar 25, 2019
Mar 25, 2019 at 12:01 AM UTC
we're tip tip tipping
tap tap tapping out a rhythm for our breath
sweet ladles laden lady leaden candles
sticks candlesticks
lime sweet ricky baby
rolling rolling heavy cajoling
you want to know you want to know
greens orange peach and parkas
time with only embers
smelling sweet of sand glass green
lightning what a pretty king
Apr 19, 2011
Apr 19, 2011 at 1:30 PM UTC
Do you understand me ?
Do you feel the way that I see ?
Do you understand love and peace and prosperity ?
ABC's and quasi bravery ?
Is your life centric around a certain sense of chaos ?
Mindless, cajoling with an ironic sense of pathos,
Pathetic and burning without any sort of love
Deeming yourself worthy of loving from above.
Knowing that winging your a lame winged dove,
Holding yourself backwards with a half lazy cuff.
You don't relate,
For you I grate
Writing down all this
I don't want to think anymore
My weariness is overwhelming,
Though though I hate it,
I find the process calming.
**** um, yeah
The end.
Aug 16, 2012
Aug 16, 2012 at 1:28 PM UTC
What is one second on a Monday morning following a night of no sleep in a Dunkin Donuts on some Main Street where I’ll walk with a cigarette for the third time; I think second-hand smoke has been cajoling me, and now I’m awake with nicotine. But what is the difference between a smothered Marlboro light and some nervous lecture on a sad scholarly venture? I cannot pull the smoke vicious into my lungs any more than I can break the vicious stammering circle. And what is one hour of discourse-accompanied indigestion, pacing, and anxiety, if not thirty-six-thousand possible seconds spent in a Dunkin Donuts on Monday mornings with no sleeping? When time is finite and eternal then there is no escaping the monotonous chaos, and we’re thrown about aimlessly, like dice in dimension infinity.
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 7:08 AM UTC
*On the far horizon of my mind, suddenly it appears
on the black and white wings of silence
more as a sweep of colors, mixed and dabbed
to create a rhapsody, resonance, unintentional,
nothing other than cajoling out a feeling, so tender
vaguely in the making in my psyche.
the seeds are mysteriously sown, so deep
from a sight, a sound, a feeling or an emotion that touched,
this heart is a lyre; love, longing, desire or separation
makes me weak, strongly feel about,weep my heart out or yell
heart yearns to sing on every experience, for which I owe
to this world, some times green with pristine life
often dry like falling leaves, making everything including future look ****
I am the canvas, experience, heart break felt, the poem is all about me,
what you fill and drink is the cup full of tears, here see my blood-
copiously flowing from the wound, inflicted by my merciless life.*
Dec 24, 2013
Dec 24, 2013 at 8:11 AM UTC
Click clack
Heels down long pavements
Mean business.
A bystander excuses himself
From my way.
Take a seat and
Squickety squeak
Leather up legs
Crossing on
Leather up legs.
I'm endlessly amused
Biting my lip,
Silently cajoling,
"Oh, is this your thing?"
Nov 3, 2017
Nov 3, 2017 at 8:40 PM UTC
You once had a blossoming rosebush.
Lush with periwinkle peonies, baby blue baby's-breath, crimson carnations.
You plucked a flower for me, a rose so beautifully breathtaking which you compared to my own flawed features in the most poetic prose.
I graciously accepted your gorgeous gift, careful that my fingers wouldn't graze the thorns which adorned the deep green stem.
I held it close, embracing your token of affection with a pounding heart full of humbly hesitant adoration.
But I picked apart the pieces, I skeptically played with the pretty petals. I analyzed their cajoling strokes of coaxing color until the flower wilted warily.
And when I asked you for another, your face flushed and your truth trembled.
You led me to your rosebush, which was now an utterly dull disappointment.
For I saw then that you had wasted away all of the flowers on girls just like me, destroying the beauty which had once flourished in that tempting rosebush, and now you had no more love to give me.
Jul 15, 2020
Jul 15, 2020 at 3:01 PM UTC
Fire storm gave you a cleansing hand
cajoling not unlike a rabbit breaking through fences.
I feel more for foxes
but don't let that guise serve as something else.
Sheild my dignity by the pylons
deeply electric
azure as a dream
the bugles will surely entertain.
can closure be provided?
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 4:57 PM UTC
When I am gone will these words still remain?
Pure thought without a voice or merriment;
What if my life was all for this refrain?
An angel sifted neurons in my brain,
To seek for aught of which I should repent;
When I am gone will these words still remain?
My demons tunnelled through me like a train,
Cajoling me to do their ill portent;
What if my life was all for this refrain?
My haunted past still lingered like the rain
And soaked me in a wave of malcontent;
When I am gone will these words still remain?
My soul was but a solitary grain,
That bloomed to grow until it's time was spent;
What if my life was all for this refrain?
Beyond my years, when long my bones have lain
Past living years of those who may lament,
When I am gone will these words still remain?
What if my life was all for this refrain?
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 11:21 PM UTC
The road I travel has called me again.
Yet, that's not true, as the voice was never quiet.
It was only hidden away like a pair of shameful eyes.
Closed to the admonishments of a sadistic lover.
Yet always there bubbling, percolating, cajoling in a soothing voice.
Beckoning me with memories of freedom and the comforting drone of the road.
Reminders of rest areas swarmed with hopeful travelers with red eyes and creaking joints.
The vending machine stand stoically in a row like good soldiers standing at attention.
Windows open, air buffeting, my face is that of a child catching the new rays of spring.
Music blaring, singing along, my soul rising like a barometer as high pressure moves in.
Right lane driving, eyes gleaming, each passing car tells a story of hope and and unveiled inspiration.
Small towns passing, unrealized lives, I ache to know you. Yet our paths must remain distantly apart.
Night falls and the excitement only builds. The bulbs of light above are my guide. No map has their magnetic draw.
The scene changes as the road becomes deserted. My fellow journeyers are swimming or ordering room service.
My metal friend shall be my bed. This jug of water my frigid shower in the morning. Late night talk radio my lullaby song.
My thoughts are pure and calm as I curl up in the backseat. No fear or remorse that I've spurned all lovers. My needs are few and my heart is full.
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 1:17 PM UTC
*I contend that it is not my place to give testimony or
To tell what love is but that I must include love
Here now so that I can get on with my story
Intelligibly with the help of the word itself
Without any other ideas or explanation for it.
Dr. David Dosa, speaking on behalf of Oscar the cat,
Stated that Oscar was never wrong and that Oscar
Seemed to have some innate ability to know when a
Patient at the Steere House Nursing Home was going
To pass - going all the way back to when the cat was a kitten.
Dr. Dosa went on to say that the pernicious, anti-social cat
At the Rhode Island center would only cuddle up to those
Patients who were in their last 2 to 4 hours of life.
The talented Oscar has proven the medical staff wrong on
Several occasions when patients were close to death.
Dr. Rosa – when asked about Oscar’s accuracy stated
That Oscar was right 100% of the time and that to his
Knowledge or to his staff’s knowledge that Oscar had
Never gone in and cuddled up to any person who was
Not near death, something that he had to accept - that
The cat had better instincts than he – a doctor – possessed.
At present, I hope that I have sufficiently captured
The reader’s understanding that there are yet many
Things out there in the real physical world that neither
Science nor religion can understand but I know what
Oscar knows – what he knows is this thing called love.
Now that phrase is not at all to my liking.
For to say a man is fallen in love, -
Or that he is deeply in love, -
Or up to the ears in love and sometimes
Even head over heels in love carries
With it an idiomatic implication that love is
Somehow beneath the man (fallen) – something
Regurgitated in Plato’s opinion which with all his
Divinity ship – I for one hold that the thought of Love
Being beneath a man be damnable and heretical.
While Oscar the cat simply says – let love be what it will.
And possibly, just possibly - gentle reader -
Without any further current explanation, so do I now
Join ranks with Oscar as I write of a love that is
Alive and well – and if I do not come and cuddle
With you it is not because I do not love you.
Tis but my task to find those in greater need and
When I find them near death, afraid or lost
I, like Oscar, I know of their fear and of their
Desperation so with pen in hand
I purr next to them cajoling
Them onto their next great experience.*
Jun 1, 2017
Jun 1, 2017 at 10:14 PM UTC
Hello Stranger
She was smiling at me while turning the pages of the book
There she was on the bench frowning
And then while making the mundane choices
They were all there, she is still here
Huddled up inside me, jostling for space
Faceless and nameless, they grew
Disjointed and disconnected
Rearing their heads
Dominating, struggling and then cajoling and comforting
In their world, madness is unreal and sanity delusive
Pain is surreal, so is existence
Happiness, mythical and sadness an unwelcome stranger
They are hostages of their essence
Enjoying the power struggle
Busy, Floating around in chaos
Sweating in mundane
Waltzing on the void
My, happy children of mundane
For them, Negotiating confusion is survival
Blocking the deafening noise of history, winning
Buried in the hackneyed beauty of life
With each for the other
In this crowd
Their aches are still trace less
Pains don't leave any mark
Tears are hollow and screams silent
Suffocating in a teeming crowd of self
Their search for one other,
Just Any other, continues
This is the beauty of condemnation
That the teeming crowd within fondly calls Life.
Nov 18, 2012
Nov 18, 2012 at 2:37 PM UTC
the first time I ran,
mother says,
was because I didn't
want to be held on to,
so I broke all grasps
and fled as children
do and not remember
afterwards,
why
the last time I ran
was yesterday,
cajoling myself
to alarm beeps,
like a break in habit,
slow, tired and then
in rhythm, but not like
a first time, or a last,
tedium
did joy
pass by?
the running gods
didn't reply.
Sep 12, 2016
Sep 12, 2016 at 7:43 AM UTC
Welcome to the malevolent
I am the intersection between Bad and Evil
The very genesis of sin
The bitten fruit
Man couldn't refrain from eating
The slick nasty sinister beast
Woman couldn't help but listen to
I am the Night with twinkles of Star lights
I am the intersection between Dawn and Darkness
I am the Temptation
Cajoling voices nagging behind your head
Mix the Filthy, the Slicky, and the Nasty.
You get me.
I am the sin
Christ came to bound
The sin lurkin' in your shadows
Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 11:56 PM UTC
her soft petals unfurled and curled open
the nectar drops released themselves clinging to her edges
till the last pull of gravity won its persistent gentle cajoling
the warm scent filled the air surrounding her
exotically hypnotic drawn like a moth
it was at this moment his lips brushed her tendrils
and drawn in, he drank deeply till drunk with ****** love.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 8:42 AM UTC