"captivity" poems
Her passion burns bright
her fire catches me
igniting my soul
aroused by lust violently
her flames engulfing me
consuming my mind
body held in captivity
submitting mentally
enchanted by her majesty
Aug 21, 2016
Aug 21, 2016 at 9:47 PM UTC
A halo of transfigured light.
spanned the hills and autumn gold
of scores of aspen groves
basking in the morning sun.
But what is this thing we call a rainbow?
For all our science talk of vapor,
refraction and angle of the sun
we surrender still in willing captivity
to its beauty, mystery and myth.
Rainbows beguile by their fleeting rarity
as ephemeral as life itself -
temporal blessings suspended in time
unintended and undeserved,
spectral bridges between here and there -
between what is and what should be.
Nov 11, 2016
Nov 11, 2016 at 9:11 AM UTC
I write about the stars too much.
I blame you.
Eyes holding galaxies in sweet captivity.
That starstruck feeling when you look at me.
Lips that taste of constellations.
Ecstacy of cosmic proportions.
Words drawing me in like a black hole.
Your body, like a goddess swimming in stardust.
Accidental perfection parallel to the Milky Way.
Your laugh as bright as a thousand supernovas.
Heart made of stars, filling the space in my own.
I write about the stars too much.
But really, I just write about you, the best of them all.
~S.C. Kelley
Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 4:45 PM UTC
Seek freedom from the anxious mind
For, you have the freedom to choose
Break the shackles of intimidation
Claim your freedom for the sleeping madness
Wake up to a world of freedom, for it’s yours
Freedom for the prejudices and the dogmas
Claim your freedom for the untrusting world
Freedom beckons you from the deepest caverns
Thwart the advances of violence, and seize freedom
Do not pay heed to the abusive words
As your freedom to speak up is jeopardized
The weakest of hearts and minds, resort to violence
And their abode inside is wrecked by loss of freedom
You freedom will come when you walk out
Opening the gates of your heart to freedom
The weak personalities seeks to strangle freedom
To dominate the beautiful souls, as they feel threatened
Assert your freedom; this is becoming a puppet’s world
Always made to act when the strings are pulled
There is a world full of love and freedom waiting for you
You just have to cross the threshold of the murky world
Only you can win your freedom, if you choose to
Seek freedom, and slam the door on the world of captivity
© Amitav (Radiance)
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 5:56 AM UTC
Listen here listen here
The world is so **** *******
Maybe all these terrible things are happening because it’s trying to be renewed
Our president is so whack
He keeps stabbing innocents in the back
Praising Arnold Schwarzenegger by acting as if he’s the terminator
Pero his wife’s an immigrant too
American dream who
We pretend to honor the OG’s who created this land
But now your trying to get them all banned
claiming them all to be rapists and murderers
Be humble sit down i'm tired of all these racial slurs
He says “We cannot aid Puerto rico forever”
But really we need to be working on this together
Puerto Rico is just a metaphor for how this president sees all Latinos and people of color
He does not see us as his equals, nor does he sees us as his fellows
Having the mindset being male and white
Is the only possibility of being right
Were all humans , we all fit in the same race.
We should not be considered by the color of our face
Yet somehow the white get all the praise
Why are we still stuck in this racist faze
Since 1963 when Martin Luther King said in his speech
“It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity. But 100 years later the ***** still is not free”
To this day even if they try not to say
The ***** is still treated so falsely.
Take a moment now to open up your eyes and stop all the self lies
Get rid that hate to open up the gate to a whole new perspective
A much more un discriminative kind
Then maybe just maybe the world wouldn’t be so **** *******
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 10:02 AM UTC
You are the king of a place called my heart.
You plant blossoms in the courtyard of thoughts.
Besotted by wine, besotted by me.
Bounded yourself in captivity.
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 7:09 PM UTC
*Her mind
was a universe
of juxtaposition...
love hate heaven hell
peace war
passion apathy beauty ugliness
fantasty reality
happiness melancholy
freedom captivity strength weakness
innocence and guilt
It travelled back and forth
and
sometimes
her albatross was a
perpetual quest for balance
but
other times she was certain
she wouldn't want it
any other way.*
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 9:20 AM UTC
Hurry now, it’s leaving soon
Car door slams, gravel underfoot
And from the boot
Grandmas lil helper is lifted
Oh! Where did it go?
Wind twists scarf to snake
Released from frames captivity
I stoop and tug
Under your foot, Gran
She shuffles,
Ties it firmly around tiny shoulders
Bright colour against delicate skin
Paper thin, both,
One for beauty, one to hold the blood in
And may it hold the blood in,
Just a little longer...
The train awaits,
Monstrous,
Steele stark against surrounding bush.
Matt has a sausage,
Mum bothers about tickets,
Both fuss and fizzle,
I press lips firmly together
Deciding then and there
Never to let entertainment turn to stress;
It’s more than it’s worth.
We’re to be in the engine room,
The rest will be left behind -
As something faulty.
Matt lifts Gran up;
She’s tiny,
She’s flying,
She’s in.
And then we’re all in.
Crammed.
We stare longingly through grimy glass
At empty carriages
Can’t we be in there? It’s all a bit stuffy.
There’s a fire along the track
But we don’t go any further.
The smoke streams out over forest.
And jerking and bumping,
Dipping along,
We reverse back to whence we started.
Petrol fumes and smoke fill our tiny cocoon
Here, let me help you
Passenger to passenger,
Fellow human,
Compassionate eyes.
Gran has a seat;
She sways while we lurch.
Deep within
Railroad country
I make believe
I know something
Of the girl
Of the Plannies;
That sacred connection
To land and sky,
To Native country,
To Golden Macrocarpa
I stare over hills of tree ferns,
Kawakawa, Wheki, Punga
And, knowing no other,
I feel this land
Majestically
My own.
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 9:47 PM UTC
SOLDIER OF FORTUNE
Book down both my idleness and memories,
Come the 52nd summer, through ship to ship
The last sail from city to city, the perturb To Contempt
Thy will at time remain snub, hath my time being
Hoaxed with an irony to bare my dream, for my family,
my slug Hit the deepest of my wish, with an arm to an
Armor, though my gentle verse never indulge volitionary,
What’s Worth in me hath grown, neither my dream
Extant, to whom shall I sell? Thy portrait reckon without
understanding The captivity my dreams, to whom
shall I cry My bootless fate?, Hast thee forsaken me?
Thou art trouble me not , Thee Succeed anyone
In an unflagging quest for a word, though art’s will
For sinners, saint and believers never change
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 5:25 AM UTC
I've mentioned the new puppy before
so it won't come as a surprise
that I'm reading a book about how dogs think.
I want to know how the flea collar feels
around his thickening neck, next to the skull
and crossbones collar, and why he tucks
his tail under when he sleeps,
and if when he is, for a few hours, in the crate,
which seems cozy enough, he devises
a plan to pay me back for this captivity.
I want to understand his relentless
drive to be where I am, to trod down the hall
and back again with his heavy paws
("That is going to be a big dog," everyone says)
even into the bathroom, which I typically
prefer to be private.
He won't go out in the rain unless
I'm standing out there too, both of us soaked
to the bone. He won't sleep without one eye
on me if I move from the space beside him.
Why would this animal
devote himself to me so utterly, I who
really can't be trusted not to throw shoes
or swat a nose when his love bites bite
too hard. I who throw a fit about the ***
just inside the door, I who deny him access
to the cat. I who write poems
about his private life and study him like a ******
while he goes on sleeping.
Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 9:42 AM UTC
I want to be outside in that sky
Summertime, so free, so high
Four walls are my captivity
This roof overhead contains me
I have so much to release, to give,
To share, to sing, to dance, to live!
So let me outside in that sky
Summertime, so free, so high
Jul 14, 2020
Jul 14, 2020 at 6:22 PM UTC
613
They shut me up in Prose—
As when a little Girl
They put me in the Closet—
Because they liked me “still”—
Still! Could themself have peeped—
And seen my Brain—go round—
They might as wise have lodged a Bird
For Treason—in the Pound—
Himself has but to will
And easy as a Star
Abolish his Captivity—
And laugh—No more have I—
5.2k
like ****** driven samurai's & cerebral poisoned psychopaths we slay each other with words.
i choke you with my words and you hang me with yours, but we don't die.
instead all that pain lingers at the back of our eyes and it causes us to see red.
like sharp blades running through bruised skin from an injured soul, we silently dissect wounded minds. every one fights a battle.
s(words) are potent, carefully wield yours.
like lost swords in the wind.
im a samurai poet. i use words as oxygen to help you breath and by reading these words you breath again.
i use words as medicine to transfer positive energy to you, samurai reader.
im a samurai **** im a lost blade in the wind.
i use words like Martin Luther King and set free, i. i set myself free with my own words, i can because im a writer.
words are freedom. words are captivity. words are destruction. words are peace. the tongue is mighty powerful.
i use words to tell dispirited women that their beautiful because they grew up with the idea that beautiful is factory made products. the idea of beautiful is you.
i use words to tell hurt men that they can cry because they grew up being told tigers don't cry. crying is human, and i was told tears are wisdom distilled.
i use words to tell the youth they can be themselves because they grew up thinking acting like a fake gangster is all there is to life. the world is bigger than that.
im a samurai poet. a samurai **** these words are blades. **** life.
stay samurai cool.
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 10:19 AM UTC
Perched upon a tree tall
sings a bird – yellow, small,
listening to whose beautiful song
parched earth sings along
Euphoria, euphoria!
Melodies that the bird sings
Ebullience its music brings
Flowers bloom and winds flow
Spreading smiles on the go
Euphoria, euphoria!
Yet the bird cares not
If music is adored a lot
Singing for its own pleasure
Crooning alone is its nature
Euphoria, euphoria!
Flowers, wind, earth or tree
The bird wants no captivity
When oblivious to others around
The bird sings in perfect sound
Euphoria, euphoria!
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 12:25 AM UTC
Our body was well worn,
Born, bled then ill informed.
Skin shed
Torn
Dust to adorn a once pristene floor.
Bred to provide countless lives, more.
Martyr to a form it shall never see.
The water flows but cannot know
The extent of its captivity.
Jan 6, 2019
Jan 6, 2019 at 6:33 PM UTC
the chase is the start of Cora's dream
in which she is a woman, Persephone
Persephone does not run nor hide
as she is seized by the dragon below the tide
she disguises her sorrow with beauty and grace
as she soars to live in the Other Place
the dragon is a man of whom craves her love
but she flies away, a mystical dove
the man wants Persephone by his side
but he is alone when spring arrives
no one at all can hold her back
she holds your life close in her eyes of black
as the flowers bloom in Cora's dream, all see the wings of Persephone
Persephone does not call or cry
she ends her captivity above the sky
Cora, Persephone, artful and strong
she has owned her life all along
Cora's dream
she is queen
the myth became her memory
mysteries revealed, secrets uncovered
ruler of seasons, angel like no other
Majestic One, she has no home
in Cora's dream, she was born to roam
she creates the storms and dries up the rain
she is a woman you cannot obtain
Cora's dream
she is queen
the myth became her memory
Jun 30, 2018
Jun 30, 2018 at 7:32 PM UTC
One heart,
born in whole,
Free from all captivity.
Not a slave,
nor care,
Beating for one,
Myself.
Two hearts,
one of the other,
made to feed and grow.
Beating for me,
Mother.
Torn hearts, inseparable, separated.
Lost to the world,
by choice of deception.
The curse begins.
The seeking heart,
Beats for another.
One piece lost,
Destined to recover.
Absent of nurture,
Wicked, wicked,
Stepmother.
Repelled, repulsed, shamed.
Uprooted,
over and over again,
Homesick.
Adulthood,
weirdness and awkward.
With a childs desperate heart.
Hopelessly hopeful,
Helplessly lost.
Found love,
Beautiful love,
lasting love.
My lover,
Deception, infidelity,
Another piece lost.
The cycle continues.
The seeking heart,
Desperate to replace,
What was lost long ago.
Ten times over.
Realization, awakening, awareness.
This piece left,
Peace of heart,
Beats for one,
It's my own.
No longer captive,
Nor a seeking slave.
This last piece,
Freed for me.
Oct 1, 2011
Oct 1, 2011 at 10:47 AM UTC
I am Bear Lady
and you are Toucan Man —
Fur and feathered backs
against a striped tent.
Cut-off like tickets,
crowds melting Dali-like
in the distance
from crystalline eyes,
frozen in time…
Wings graze skin and
fur can’t compete.
The electricity of
our eccentricity
is freakish,
yet with every touch,
I feel less like a freak.
My history
of hoop jumping
tightrope walking,
and captivity
dissolve transparently
as I search deep,
deep,
deep,
into supernova eyes —
they outshine
this circus life,
this love for applause,
the performance inside.
As I gaze into
frozen pools,
the broken chords
of carny music
da da da-da-da-da drown.
The morning quiet,
muddled coffee grinds
are sensitive and silent,
chilling me to the soul.
Earth, a peripheral,
to pupils that absorb
mine full-force,
until I can’t see
this galaxy anymore,
save green starbursts,
my light source.
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 12:18 PM UTC
Red herrings tend to be trustworthy,
But lead us astray.
Orange orangutans are trustworthy:
If it looks menacing, it is;
If it grunts, it's meaningful;
If it moves, it's unpredictable.
In captivity they're studied
As evolutionary wonders,
But it's still an orange orangutan,
Pounding his chest.
Feb 1, 2017
Feb 1, 2017 at 7:20 PM UTC
Welcome Back
You are the art.
Don’t you dare tear yourself apart.
Ripping away the “ugly” from your pulchritudinous body.
Don’t be a copy, of every other thin legged, supple lipped, big busted, media lusted women.
Don’t be Cheating yourself of the life you have to live. Deprives others of that only which you can give
Outlive the ugly in this society. One step out of the door, I know you can feel your anxiety.
Are you perfect enough???? Yes indeed you are!
You’ve come so far. You are more than what you think u are. Now Open up that spiritual jar, throw away the negativity.
You are no longer in captivity. You are free. You’ve found the key. To everlasting acceptance.
So pick yourself up beautiful, it’s crucial that you stop being so critical about your self-worth. Calibrate the rebirth of you.
Welcome back. x
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 7:22 PM UTC
Most glorious Lord of Lyfe! that, on this day,
Didst make Thy triumph over death and sin;
And, having harrowd hell, didst bring away
Captivity thence captive, us to win:
This joyous day, deare Lord, with joy begin;
And grant that we, for whom thou diddest dye,
Being with Thy deare blood clene washt from sin,
May live for ever in felicity!
And that Thy love we weighing worthily,
May likewise love Thee for the same againe;
And for Thy sake, that all lyke deare didst buy,
With love may one another entertayne!
So let us love, deare Love, lyke as we ought,
—Love is the lesson which the Lord us taught.
3.2k
Their togetherness had become an island,
surrounded by strange waters .She contributes
to its noise unendingly.He often makes grand,
defiant gestures withering away like luckless roots.
Only a ruthless need survives.Years
have turned dreams into plain consolations.
Even hope is a necessary drudgery.Fears
grow like parasites on their passions.
Yet a reluctance persists-- reluctance to expand,
the turbulence or claim of waters does not surprise,
some playful waves struggle to the sand,
watching them, they become unconcerned, as the skies
Should they be called happy? The question
sounds hollow.They have raised walls
around their beings, a happy captivity of the sun,
while their lives dance as dolls immaculate
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 5:26 AM UTC
The women conspiring
She meant no pain
Her life is shadowy
She grew in beauty
Naturally she put on a show
Well noticable
In depths where her gut meets her heart
high voltage force, igniting
She was privileged, leaving hell
She could've freed the flocks in captivity
She closed her eyelids
Casual steps in vein
A void, cutting her insides
A wonderment why her point of view remains
Pure apology exchanged
Sight darkened when her eyes are opened
Unexpected she prays
How do I change
All expectations she never needed
Opinion unraveling, she pleaded
"Where is forwards deliverance"
May 18, 2016
May 18, 2016 at 1:43 AM UTC
384
No Rack can torture me—
My Soul—at Liberty—
Behind this mortal Bone
There knits a bolder One—
You cannot ***** with saw—
Nor pierce with Scimitar—
Two Bodies—therefore be—
Bind One—The Other fly—
The Eagle of his Nest
No easier divest—
And gain the Sky
Than mayest Thou—
Except Thyself may be
Thine Enemy—
Captivity is Consciousness—
So’s Liberty.
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