"chorused" poems
Loves' tribute;
was a traumatic bloodletting,
at the feet of Earths' foundation,
passed over through resurrection,
as the author; Perfect,
penned the first song,
startling in Red;
chorused;
Sacrifice and Redemption.
A soul melody,
padlocked on repeat,
a key,
to live,
to move,
to exist;
the act of human being.
A dance of humiliating instruction,
'twas the universe's orchestra simply conducting;
a priceless,
yet eternal concerto,
forever titled...
‘Unique-Spring-Awakening’
© Qwey.ku
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 3:56 AM UTC
We stood in a circle in the parlor,
Jim was chatting with his golfing crones;
Her body was there for the viewing,
But we're keen on his hole-in-one.
We gave him our proud approval,
We chorused, Jim, well-done!
Then Jim took his turn on the kneeler,
To ponder before her coffin.
We all know the cold humility,
That an ace needs a load full of luck;
Yet we're pleased to hear all his details,
From the crack off the tee,
To the flag in the cup.
I waited for my turn behind Jim,
I overheard his solemn words:
*... an eight iron... bounced once, then straight in...
Oh, and may you rest in peace too, Mrs. Hobin*.
Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 9:41 PM UTC
I wake and the light of this fine day edges round the curtain.
The birds have chorused and my left foot lies cold outside the sheets.
Standing in my nightgown I draw the curtains and look out at my garden.
Let me pad downstairs, open the front door and walk brief steps
to the arbour of ferns and shells. From a cane chair
I shall view my private corner with its tiny pool and privet hedge:
whilst there is still a little dew; whilst the cobwebs still glisten;
whilst there is no wind, just a grumble of the surf at Porth Neigwl,
the sound my father makes dozing over his paper.
Miniature, enclosed, protected I will place my thoughts
in this dolls’ house garden, amongst the dank, dark shadows
of its many rooms, its parterred spaces.
You don’t walk in this garden; you take a step . . .
and you are elsewhere. Take three steps and you are quite lost.
I hear the kitchen door bang in the manor house,
Meriel is taking breakfast to my sisters.
I think I shall stay here a moment longer.
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 2:33 AM UTC
Pellets of rain pestered the cotton swagged
sky, cloudy purses grew black with scowls
coldly spelling their injustice. A chapter of
sunrays shot shamesless shards, irony perched
between chaperones; a truce maybe, rains restless
pathways of rays bleating their appeal, rooming in,
black balaclavas, rooting for blue beams,
itching bony beads of cloudy sweat, out of reach
In turn, limbs colour coated grassy spaces
tides of sun worshippers laughed out loud
their inner duets, hand in hand the sweltering
dance floor bathed them, sidling cotton clouds
Swiftly passing the sunscreen, laying back, beckoning
the sun from beneath neatly positioned cloud baubles.
Within an inch of our lives the splodges began, light
heavy, heavier, to the swell of April in full tune
Instantly the greedy green spaces groaned, ejected
sweet harmony, rolled out goodbyes, tongued stiff
breeze longing for its thirst to be quenched, and so
torrents rushed in where fools once lay
A lonely sunscreen bottle, remnant of warm
minds soaking heat, long days teasing into belief.
Yet April fooled us once more with beguiling banter,
chorused a chanting cheating lullaby of lamentation
May 5, 2013
May 5, 2013 at 1:04 PM UTC
He was a rather special sort,
To those who knew him,
And knew him not.
Tingles ran through his finger tips,
A golden chalice,
Held to his lips.
This Midas had a curious touch,
That left him mighty,
Not wanting much.
Golden forms from his fingers dashed,
Enemies transformed,
Into piles of cash.
A merry man, he strut through town
An arms length clear zone,
Did him surround.
When a wondrous girl he saw, so bold
She walked right to him,
No fear of gold.
Such beauty never before had beamed
Eyes lowered down,
Hair bounced and gleamed
When she glided close enough to kiss,
She met his gaze...
he touched her cheek...
and the last thing they heard...
Was a chorused hiss.
So if you should walk down that street,
King Midas and
His love you'll meet.
King turned to stone, with outstretched hand
And with head of yellow snakes
A golden Medusa stands.
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 4:53 AM UTC
"Are you two sisters?"
The thought of me ever enjoying those words
Makes me shudder.
We have eyes of the same color
And when you didn't dye
Your hair
We looked so alike
And with our gazelle-like third
We made a trio
I the shortest, as always.
"More bars in more places"
Much laughter ensuing.
"i never would have let him kiss me if i had known!"
That's exactly how you said it.
But you lied, because
More
Happened.
You took him in ways I fantasized about
Thank God he wouldn't let you
Slip your little fingers around
His virginity
And rip it from him
Like you rip the beauty
From my heart.
You couldn't believe how he had used you.
I couldn't believe how you lied.
That's when the ending began,
Because I could forgive him
But not you
And you never forgive anyone at all.
You play the martyr.
You were used, abused, thrown away
Disregard the fact I hid my love for him away for 2 years
And you said his face gave you nightmares.
Obviously he's in the wrong
For being a stupid boy who wanted to keep us happy.
You never did a thing
Except
Create
Every
Problem.
You made me feel like nothing was good enough
Complaining
Your ******* were now D cups
How tragic
That your ***** were getting so big
When I felt like mine didn't exist.
Every good feature you had you made nothing
And I always was the smart one,
So that must have made you
Prettier.
I know I'm self-centered
But at least I try to be subtle.
I wanted your family
They loved me
I never knew what that was like
To have little ones that
Love me.
"Alice is our favorite big sister!"
They chorused every time.
I want your family still,
But I will not stand you.
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 12:36 AM UTC
A flickering candle.
A blinking observer of the blurred,
thrumming life that surrounds it.
Silken-haired girls and kittens gambol
on the thread-bare rug;
leaving brightly colored Trouble pieces in their wake.
It's countenance reads "Winter",
like a scent could ever capture
the long, arduous Minnesota cold.
A continuous clatter of feet,
chorused voices in debate,
a deserted pie crust on a cracked plate
and dog fur fiercely claiming the beloved sofa.
A flickering candle watches
as wisdom swirls in scotch glasses,
and serpentine coils of cigar smoke.
Trusting smiles and the adoration of a father
lighting the faces of sons--
All witnessed by a flickering candle.
Apr 23, 2012
Apr 23, 2012 at 3:13 PM UTC
Easter Monday (2015)
The silence
It was the silence
As we entered the gates of hell.
Then…
The bird song,
It was the bird song
That chorused our way
To the well
Of tears at the wall
Of many tongues
That speak to the silence still,
Of the voices that cried
For the people who died
The void only time will fill.
The sun
It was the sun
Shining on the wooden cross.
And…
The sky
It was the sky
So blue, and flecked with the floss
Of clouds so white
So pure in light
That the wall of the well of tears
Transfigured the sin
We heap on Him
Whose loss for many
Is the only way
To feel the void time fills.
The woodpecker drummed a beat
On the trunks
Of the trees so parallel still.
A whisper of wind
That rebounds the sound
Of innumerable roll calls
Of the thousands who now
Lie deep in the cradles of mounds
Stone faced, inscribed Toten
With the number interred within
Verboten… now
But why not then?
In that world of men
And women, when humanity’s meaning
Was turned on end.
And a godless creed
That shadowed the world with grief
Which now for many,
Is beyond belief.
The stillness
It was the stillness
That gave silence the space to breathe,
To remember the times, the godless times
That now are so hard to believe.
But silence and stillness envelope the House
A silent place to be
To hear the past that shows the present
The prayers for a future that sees
What could be,
What can be
But will we
Learn, the history from then to now
To forge that future for future’s sake
And answer the question…
How?
David Applin
… late afternoon and evening of Easter Monday 6th April 2015 following a visit to Bergen-Belsen earlier in the day, completed 7th-9th April.
15th April 2015 … 70 years after the liberation of Bergen-Belsen by the British Army.
David Applin (Copyright 2015)
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 5:32 AM UTC
I mentioned Monty Hall
In what I thought was casual conversation.
Maybe I interjected,
...yeah, like Monty Hall.
But still,
A woman taking a drink of ***** gurgled,
A fella rolling a spliff snickered;
Even the dart thrower stopped;
They chorused in unison, Who?
**** Monty Fecking Hall.
Door #'s 1, 2, 3?*
The few listening were confused.
Maybe it was the tone I used.
One face had a glimmer,
Almost a gesture of recognition
Tracing his pierced eyebrow.
*Really!
Monty Fecking Hall.*
One day, in the not too distant future,
They'll hear,
What's a Fecking Jedi?
Dec 19, 2017
Dec 19, 2017 at 9:35 AM UTC
I have seen the sea of stars and bars flapping,snapping on the speed swept black topped highways
The glow of candles so meaningfully lit
Burning throughout the dark night
In numbers that dwarf the stars in the indigo skies
Ive heard the moans and cries
chorused by tears that fall as monsoon rains
to the ready swollen rivers of anguish
I have walked down those green rolling valleys
That lay thickly filled with white crosses
standing sentinel
What of these will speak for me
Who among them
Which has such powers to breathe life back into
this box of rattling bones
What glue might they conjure to piece together
my broken soul
Speak to me, shout to my ears
Though, I know the answer
all the spent intentions become arcade
Once the penny drops through the slot the show is
soon forgotten
Once again they speak of war
its line drawn through shifting sands
Again our armor stands ready, our faces into the winds of war
jSweptson
Feb 10, 2011
Feb 10, 2011 at 10:52 AM UTC
Neath beau blue skies and wounded sighs,
wind like silk caressed his skin.
Rain like splinters in his eyes
as shadows flit across the scene.
"Vindicta," the shadows mocked and chimed
as cold showers burned his skin.
"Vitriol", he chorused in his mind
where old demons lurked therein.
"Veritas, I have fought my fight..."
he spoke aloud with steadied breath,
".... and by these words I hold contrite
ye demons - lo! - be gone in death."
Avast, the showers softened
while silver linings streaked the skies.
The demons fled, undone by caution-
vindictive hearts in plain disguise.
Their words bore no gravitas
like garbled noise in quick regress
for truth reigns in fair equitas;
for acts, not words, can claim redress.
Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 1:18 AM UTC
Anticipation hovers in the gentle light of dawn
With birdsong chorused to night
Where satin striates to prismatic effect
Radiating gold sunbeams alight.
A mirrored reflection from lake front to reed
Through tumbled refraction to trees
And cattle in pasture are lowing with joy
As green clover extends to the knees.
Autumn erupts with her jubilant song
And the colours turn russet and gold
As she flings her skirt with seductive allure
Letting feeling, now reeling, take hold.
Alive and wondrous, skip we two lovers,
In laneways of tangerine leaves
And the magic of moment overflows in a foment
Of happiness flung to the breeze.
M.
Glorious moments of Autumn in the downs of Taranaki, New Zealand.
2 March 2017
Mar 2, 2017
Mar 2, 2017 at 1:04 PM UTC
Whispers from deep voices that seemingly deteriorate;
We chorused into the thunderous sound of that old cello.
Not a harmony we could ever create,
This is not what I intend, everything turned askew.
That old pendulum is swaying to its usual way,
A resemblance of our long gone grieves
It was an affair crammed with dismay.
But darling, you've got your demons now;
Down to the age of your throwbacks, stupefying you every now and then
And here I am, still that vigilant somehow.
The double six tragedy was indeed an epic.
Distance, silence, timing, all falling into an illusion,
And yes, that was your treacherous scheme, making me even more frantic
But life never stops there, in the end there would still be an affirmation.
Jul 22, 2013
Jul 22, 2013 at 10:12 PM UTC
*come here beckoned the sea
though I have receded beyond *******
come awhile to be with me
low tide has taken me far.*
my eyes pierced the haze saw beyond her crown
glinted in the tidal greed narrowed in longing frown
the heart pumped and the feet itched it is not that far
her kiss and the saline hug veiled behind *******
what if it's just a dream and much more is at stake
going there for her embrace gathering wispy flakes
may seem unworthy on waves the wishes' ride
she would reveal none or little she would only hide.
what if it's a trap her feigned bait alluring
the hovering mirage before touch would fly away on wings
the shining buzz of the haloed night drowsily winking stars
they all know I mustn't yield to travel beyond *******
I could hear the deafening voices coming from shore behind
they chorused *be alert of pitfalls of a tempted drunken mind
too long cocooned in comfort zone can no more go that far
come back pick up the broken pieces this side of *******
Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 4:05 AM UTC
It's quite
difficult
to tell
a really
really good
religious
joke but I
am confident
that you'll
love this one.
There were three Irish Catholic women coming out of church after confession
and they were exchanging information on their ****** sins they way you do,
and the first one out of the confessional said she had done something so terrible
she could never tell them for the shame and filth of it all, at all, at all, at all.
The second one confessed to her friends that she had given herself one off the wrist
and the priest had said to rinse her digits in the font and do three Hail Marys.
The first woman said "Oh my God!" and put her hand up to her mouth at this.
The third woman said she'd given her boyfriend a ******* in the back of his car
and the priest had told her to wash her mouth out with the holy font water and
say ten Hail Marys. "Oh dear sweet Jesus, no," cried the first woman.
The last
two girls
were really
curious as
to why the
first woman
was so
shocked.
"So what did
you do?" they
demanded,
"You can't
keep us all
in suspense,
at all, at all"
they chorused.
"All right,"
she said,
hanging her
head down in
embarrassment.
"I let me
old man put
his **** up
me *******
last night,
so I naturally
used the
font to
cleanse me
sins away."
And the two
women had thought
someone had left
a tasty bar of
chocolate lying there
for penitents to nibble on whilst
mumbling their Hail Marys in atonement.
\\//.............................................................................\\//
Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 10:52 AM UTC
HI GUYS
I'M FRIENDS WITH MY EX AGAIN
YOU KNOW THAT EX THAT BROKE MY HEART
AND LEFT ME FOR THE ******* JACOB
YES, SHE'S STILL AS SELFISH AS EVER
STILL USING WORDS LIKE "I LOVE YOU FOREVER"
JACOB WAS AN *** A FARCE SHE SAYS
SO I PLAY ALONG ON MY LESS BUSY DAYS
SHE ASKED FOR MY HEART AGAIN
YES THE SAME EX THAT LEFT ME STANDING IN THE RAIN
STILL AS CONCEITED AS EVER
SAYING I DAMAGED HER FOR ANYONE, EVER
AND HERE I WAS THINKING I WAS THE VICTIM
"IN A GOOD WAY" SHE ADDS
EVER HEARD OF THE WORD ADDICTUM?
THE OTHER NIGHT SHE TOLD ME ABOUT A GUY
GOOD WITH WORDS
SHE LOVED THE WAY HE TALKED
BUT DESPITE ALL OF THE TIME SPENT WITH TODD,
SHE DIDN'T WANT HIM AND WHY?
AND THE ALARMS IN MY HEAD TOLD ME NOT TO
"WHAT DO YOU WANT THEN" I MUMBLED
TO CHORUSED ANSWERS OF "YOU"
LIKE THAT WAS THE MORAL OF THE STORY
HEAD'S DOWN IN DESPAIR
KNOWING FULL WELL THAT I'M STUCK AGAIN
IT'S EASY TO FALL FOR HER I MUST SAY
AND I CAN'T HAVE HER FEEL ALONE IF I DISAPPEARED
I'M EITHER TOO NICE OR TOO FOOLISH
YOU CHOOSE
SO THE PLAN IS TO SLOWLY VANISH OR BETTER STILL
POLITELY, LET HER CHIP AWAY AT ME TILL I AM
BACK TO THE DUST
Oct 27, 2017
Oct 27, 2017 at 8:40 PM UTC
...gentle breezes
rung the wind chimes
of two hearts
pulsing
for freedom
chorused ecstacy
tickled
the goosepimples
of breathy lovers
caressing
their love-slick bodies
oil
of romance
dripped
sizzling
'pon the ground
of their windswept haven
their sighs
matched the melody
the hollow sighs
of our earth's lungs
for they
were the energy
sustaining
love
and giving atmosphere
to worlds
untold...
May 16, 2025
May 16, 2025 at 4:06 AM UTC
Guided by the starlit night
A new moons waning light
Painted colors of green and gray
Patiently wait till the break of day
And in the twilight, darkness breaks
Comprised of combative colored flakes
Golden sands mixed with amber gems
Light blue sky, and earthly stems
Sitting perched on mountain tops
As the light creeps and crops
Calm winds gently nudge
As the chorused birds sing and judge
Pathways brighten to twisted trails
Gypsies jumping from misaligned rails
Subtle lovers come and go
Timely teachings of passions show
And now, to stand amongst the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore.
Brave, because fear is ever present
Bold, because boring is not pleasant
Burdened by bi-polar thought
That the horizon cannot be caught
As if to capture a moment of a flame
That even the gods could not tame
No place to call home
To be infrequently alone
To sing and dance, with strangers still
To give love a chance, with serendipitous skill
The last trap of a wondering soul
To try and consume the world whole
When they corrected all the wrongs
That’s, when traveler finds where she belongs
And yet, she travels still
Looking for life’s thrills
One day, she’ll know peace
Maybe after travels cease
Wether being conscious or not
One day the flesh will rot.
And turn into Stardust once more
So she may guide others as they explore
Feb 17, 2024
Feb 17, 2024 at 12:23 PM UTC
1, 2, 3...
Everyone chorused gleefully!
People scatter
Others chatter.
'You again!', I said
Then you cowered your head
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 2:20 AM UTC
Leaves fallen are summer’s tabernacle
Upon earth as altar, bearing life within
And life without: children, a protesting squirrel
And that storied grasshopper, unprepared
Neither blanket nor carpet, but a studio
Of life, in which cellular structure frames
The secrets of green chloroplastic life
And graphs the sweet, wind-chorused songs of summer
They fall asleep for a time, to awaken in spring:
Leaves fallen are summer’s tabernacle
Dec 23, 2018
Dec 23, 2018 at 10:24 PM UTC
Our Great & Wise Leader was just so busy
basking in his omnipotent all-knowingness
& radiating light that reached the four corners
of the world where millions were at this very
moment reflecting on the so, so many Time
covers he'd graced that our Huge Orange One
needed a nudge from his missus to snap him
out of his bigly reverie in which his coffers were
filling, & his bigness was getting bigger & his triumph
over all living beings was being chorused in the very
heavens above,
oh lord he was lost for awhile there as he forgot
to put his hand over his heart
during the anthem,
thanks Melania.
Apr 17, 2017
Apr 17, 2017 at 12:07 PM UTC
December beckoned to me while half winter darkened the night sky to augment the starlight. "So it's time for a new time again. If you were to take something along, what would it be?" he mumbled. I said "Yes, any minute now for us to stride towards January. It will be colder there but my mother's knitted cardigan has more warmth than warmth." He wanted to ask much but the surfacing discomfort somehow restricted him. But at last I spoke like the Christmas fall, " We are so accustomed to moving now from one year to the other like nomads that there are somethings we take along while other have to be simply left back. I wish I could carry every morning which changed to night and every stranger who went out of sight, I wish I could carry the speck of dirt which hugged my clothes while a car passing by ran through a puddle, I wish I could carry the endless melodies we chorused, the last smile on every one's faces in candid snapshots. The stark reality is that I cannot. Noone can. But I wish the same things arrive in newness , so again I will to cling to them by the end of another December, like another home. " "Anyway let's blow the candles, it's midnight ", a voice from the side interrupted. And then there was silence.
Dec 31, 2017
Dec 31, 2017 at 10:30 AM UTC
I felt more pure after I lost my innocence:
your breath on mine, the scent of angels
chorused from our neck to spine to cheek
and drifted to a southern ridge of my body –
I knew, I knew it was the best I’d ever be,
merged with a man who found my purity.
It was light on the skin, a delicate blend
of morning’s hellos and an evening’s rest –
you you you grabbed a virgin’s pale breast
and I I I let you ****** handle, change it.
Then no longer a girl, I laid on my side –
oh, how I felt when you were still there!
I was not chilled or lonely, I became alive
and kissed your coarse edges I had known
inside my frame, my pinkness apart so
he would find my purity going by, by, by.
Jan 7, 2013
Jan 7, 2013 at 5:33 PM UTC
The flames roar high
Teasing heat, the devils game
Chorused demons wail
Fires dance without light
Moonsung only light
Angels scream in songs
So beautiful, such hatred, rage
Fighting claw tipped wings
Buffetted winds in storm
I look above to see
nothing but
Bloodied feathers falling
This is the heaven, or maybe hell
Promised from pulpits, pastered mouthes
A place of torment, shattered light
A place of hell in heaven's
crusty, fallen shell
God looks down, a sorry state
His face of sadness, little interest of late
His angels, fight, die, and procreate
the demons angels
themselves delete
No peace for or
For other
Not the heaven I wanted
Nor God of power
He placed me here
To gaze up, writhe
Past hate
Final revenge
A soul's debate
Its not fair!
Screamed from broken lips
Defied His words
His council
His fate
I watch these feathers
Bloodied, unworn
float to down to me
So beautiful, such a state
Float to me, come down
One, slides on down
Touching, brushing my face
A touch of heaven
Of peace, knowing
He turned his face
I cannot blink
Cannot hate
Bound by hand and foot
Taken by the beautiful
And disgusting at whim
Less than a battlefield trophy
I stare at his face
Mine is eternal ****
Bathed in fresh blood
My legs spread wide
I am torn deep again
ravenge over and over
Forced to see His face
sins of my pride, beauty, and ***
He never looks my way
But kills his angels
Their feathers
My bed
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 9:24 PM UTC