"casualness" poems
Was there ever a time when lovers sat outside of windows and played lyres,
Or were those only stories dreamed up by romantic minds-
Too daring by half
But still not nearly daring enough to do the things they sang about?
If I threw pebbles at your windowpane, you would tell me to go back to sleep.
Darling, what is that? How do you love someone, nowadays?
With roses and chocolate,
Or is even that too much, in modern times?
What is this casualness, a...
Casualty?
I feel.
And I would stand outside your gate all night and sing to you,
Had you a gate and had I a voice.
But this world is... different than I expected.
And I don't know how to love you, it's true.
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 10:40 PM UTC
Friendship requested and accepted
Avoidance seems more accurate
Constantly, I see her green dot
Excitedly, I begin to type
Benevolently, she sends a message
Openness has given way to casualness
Obsessively, I cling to words
Knowing the outcome, I profess my feelings
Nervously, I await the check mark
Ever so eager for a response
Ritualistically, I keep reading my message
Voyeuristically, I scroll through her page
Obsession has me trembling
Uncertainty controls my mind
Stop is the one word response
Namesakes who cannot talk
Excessively, I look at old pictures
Silent cries are what remain
Seeing her online breaks my heart
© Christopher Chronister. All rights reserved
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 2:44 PM UTC
One cold morning,
One usual Tuesday,
I awoke before the sun,
I stretched before the clouds formed,
One exact moment in the morning,
when the water met my face
and when coffee hits the nerves,
I remembered.
It was breezy and gloomy,
The wind blew calmly across,
I can feel it in between my fingers,
I can feel it on my chest
in between my shirt and my skin
as I board the seven o’clock train.
There you were walking down before me
as I wait patiently for the train tracks to roar,
I saw you in your beige jacket,
Your green blouse,
Your black laced skirt,
Your fair, fair skin,
and your black rim glasses,
that tried to hide,
but could not, the droopiness of your sleepy eyes.
I saw them all,
I feel them all,
The beauty, the casualness,
I know them all.
I see you almost every other day,
In the same train,
At the same time,
In the same barrack of steel that encapsulates
all the passion and the indifference we have about our career.
But we never spoke.
Your beauty, your casualness,
is proof that coincidences are dangerous
and fate is perhaps overrated.
I always wonder why
in the midst of all the hustle and bustle of life
we are still hiding behind a façade,
a wall,
a barricade of non-verbal stimuli.
Why are we, in the depths of our cover up,
our ego,
still not anticipating a conversation?
I assure you,
Our eyes met more than once,
But we looked away pretending that this ardor,
This obsession,
This craze and zeal,
is nothing more than a line of sight
and a blink of an eye.
But I know for sure you’ve seen me,
And I know for sure you’ve seen me
seen you,
So what lies between us is a barrage of men and women,
rushing off to their nine AM clock in.
Men carrying their brown briefcases of complexities and anxieties,
Women carrying their vibrant colored handbags of regret and rage,
All to conceal and suppress,
To obscure and to disguise
one uncomfortable conversation about the hardships of their lives.
Perhaps we could never find the courage,
Perchance we never will.
Perhaps this poem will never see its poetic justice,
Perchance it should never too.
But in case it did,
And in case we found courage,
I’d like you to know
that in my train of thoughts that are propped up of complete nonsense,
there is one clear emotional track that will not detour,
and that is to see you sitting opposite me
in that cold metal seat,
and to have you meet me in the eye
only to have the both us look away
in sheer interest
and utter ignorance.
But we both enjoy the visual flirt.
Don’t we?
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 1:38 AM UTC
Come and keep by me
Give me the your hand of love and heart
Filled with emotion
Keep me from the days that spoil
Our marriage of minds
Here is the first of our great loves
The one and only togetherness of spirit
Clear and true and fresh like new
Make me lie down and rest
Send me the thoughts of your still mind
The casualness of your demeanour
And the demonstrations of hands
Over daily patterns showing
Push away those fears and trim your dread
Back to the endless visions and the horizons
Of a new born child
Unfettered and peaceful in the ignorance of
Daily disappointments and upheavals
Open your clear eyes and see the face of the future
Staring at you with its mask of confusion
Tear away that façade and feast your vision
On making wonderful and great strides
Ahead of our single footsteps where
Imprints in the sand calculate our pathway
We have come far in our quest as two
Into one and have become strong and justly so
Keep your face forward and don’t bend or turn
Step forward and feel the coolness of my touch
On your warm arm guiding you into
Even more love and caring
The whole world is ours and true love
Is the strength that holds us gently in its arms
Breathe deeply for the world is ours
Feb 1, 2012
Feb 1, 2012 at 11:14 AM UTC
The casualness with which you act,
While destroying this family,
Angers and appalls
Me to a heightened degree.
Your frame of mind,
What is it, I ask?
Do you think it's okay,
Is it alright, this task?
Dec 21, 2015
Dec 21, 2015 at 5:51 PM UTC
When all the joyful casualness faded away
& the awkwardness of unfamiliarity crept back in;
that’s when I knew,
we had reached an eternal plateau.
All I could pray for was that there wasn’t going to be a backslide.
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 3:41 AM UTC
Is it your choice you're dying?
Maybe the element securing your life force is sick and tainted
Maybe the cat pee's ammonia overwhelms you
Or maybe the gods that send you food and water have abandoned you.
Do you feel abandoned?
Left to struggle in a plastic-bounded island?
Outside you'd have natural light rain dew mist
Inside you're at the mercy of human forgetfulness
human ignorance
human casualness
a casualty of casualness.
In the end, dying isn't a choice for you.
Just do your best.
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 3:59 PM UTC
It's like we have an understanding
But there was no agreement made
We pass each other with intentional casualness
With discreet looks and unseen gestures
And our mouths twitch for a split second
Revealing a secret smile no one else sees
My true identity is out in the open
But there was never a mask to begin with, for them to unveil
Still I stand as their captive, tied to what appears to be a tree
With their executioners aiming at an apple upon my head
A jest before whatever sentence I've been dealt
But the dumb fools' game will never end
I rest against the made up tree
Still tied, but their rope loosens with reality
And behind, hidden in shadow is the mole
Apples in hand, ready to replace the one before
The shooters eyes unable to see anything but words
And possess no brain to comprehend our fooling
It's dark here in this desolate space
Only flashes of copied light allow localization
Glimpses of ghosts drifting mindlessly
Deprived of empathy, they pass me without care
Never sharing happiness to reignite my dimming torch
But you, come to my rescue
And have countless times before
Digging into your pockets
Filled from raids of the two realities
And you pull out unseen smiles
And blow joyful breezes through my prison bars
As our bodies pass, you add flame to my torch, unseen
And the light fills what was once concealed
I look around with eyes and thought
And what i found within these shadows of daydreams is this-
Even hidden beauty can be discovered in darkness
Such as small treasures are found in life
But remember those in dream are to be forgotten
And those in life, to be kept.
Jul 6, 2013
Jul 6, 2013 at 7:32 PM UTC
In this era of casualness, there are four words that seem to be disappearing, going by the wayside, in our interactions with others. A shame it is, that we have started taking each other for granted. 'Four words',
Simply spoken
Heard seldom
"Thank you!"
"You're Welcome!"
richard riddle: 06-04-2016
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 12:05 PM UTC
Going To You
I couldn’t sleep. What could I do?
I went to you.
I go as often as I can,
As often as élan emerges:
Like a spy whose operation purges,
Does not tell (well,
those detected and elected).
I ought to come to you more often.
True to form you’re there to soften
In one way or t’other – like a mother.
Is it just interpretation, fancy, brain synaptic,
Watching happenings?
Often ending as I would wish they should,
Seeing failings patched, detached,
Improving slowly once they’re hatched?
If I had been born to preach,
Joined synagogue or church,
Become rabbi, Mormon, Witness, priest,
Going north, south, west and east
At least I’d feel I landed.
But I’m silent and agog,
A secret seeker through the fog of worldly turbulence
And tastes that tempt, participating in the dance
With casualness, no casualty, but taking in causality as One,
It being April one, a day of fun at fooling friends –
Supercool, I face and grace it with my presence.
Going To You 4.1.2017
God Book II; Circling Round Reality; Pure Nakedness;
Arlene Corwin
Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 7:01 AM UTC
Low tide exposes
marine terraces and tidepools.
Slim brown bodies
cluster together
near the edge of the pitted mudstone.
One kneels to get a closer look
absorbed in the detail of a sea star
an anemone.
One is hesitant, afraid of the water
a wave, the slippery algae covered rocks.
One only wants to be seen, posed
hip out, knee bent, chin up
with practiced casualness.
Mar 20, 2019
Mar 20, 2019 at 6:28 PM UTC