"clamoured" poems
I kept my answers small and kept them near;
Big questions bruised my mind but still I let
Small answers be a bullwark to my fear.
The huge abstractions I kept from the light;
Small things I handled and caressed and loved.
I let the stars assume the whole of night.
But the big answers clamoured to be moved Into my life. Their great audacity
Shouted to be acknowledged and believed.
Even when all small answers build up to
Protection of my spirit, still I hear
Big answers striving for their overthrow.
And all the great conclusions coming near.
5.1k
I keep my answers small and keep them near;
Big questions bruised my mind but still I let
Small answers be a bulwark to my fear.
The huge abstractions I keep from the light;
Small things I handled and caressed and loved.
I let the stars assume the whole of night.
But the big answers clamoured to be moved
Into my life. Their great audacity
Shouted to be acknowledged and believed.
Even when all small answers build up to
Protection of my spirit, I still hear
Big answers striving for their overthrow
And all the great conclusions coming near.
4.9k
I said to Love,
“It is not now as in old days
When men adored thee and thy ways
All else above;
Named thee the Boy, the Bright, the One
Who spread a heaven beneath the sun,”
I said to Love.
I said to him,
“We now know more of thee than then;
We were but weak in judgment when,
With hearts abrim,
We clamoured thee that thou would’st please
Inflict on us thine agonies,”
I said to him.
I said to Love,
“Thou art not young, thou art not fair,
No elfin darts, no cherub air,
Nor swan, nor dove
Are thine; but features pitiless,
And iron daggers of distress,”
I said to Love.
“Depart then, Love!
Man’s race shall perish, threatenest thou,
WIthout thy kindling coupling-vow?
The age to come the man of now
Know nothing of?
We fear not such a threat from thee;
We are too old in apathy!
Mankind shall cease…—
So let it be,”
I said to Love.
1.7k
Lived the life of an artist
long before I became one.
Pressed to guitar strings
until my fingers were numb
to all exposed skin
that was not my own.
Listened to one thousand sad songs
over and over
until the pointless chords
clamoured over one another,
psalms of living
fall on deaf ears.
Trawled archives of ***********
Lauded aristocrats of cheap whiskey nights
and black coffee mornings.
Garnished my days with addictions carried
by better men
in love with real women.
Grew thin, moved about the apartment
in the graveyard hours
tacking songs to the walls.
In the absence of chains and ***
I fixed myself with neon lights
and cigarettes.
Spilt paint over undeserving paper
beneath the halogen bulb
to colour radio silences
of past friendships,
mountains I should let recede
like a ship in the night.
Stood alone in crowds
to witness the onset of a moment,
openings and closings of mouths and doors;
each one to allow another person in.
I go home alone
and sleep with my thoughts.
Apr 25, 2017
Apr 25, 2017 at 1:33 PM UTC
God before penning the very first word in the book of creation
He knew the last that reflected in inking the very first drop
composing the bottom line that gravitates every creation.
In the know so much so what was yet to be He could call on
indeed assembled all the future humans on the Day of Alast
when He asked ‘Am I not your Lord?’ Yes, we said aloud.
Responded to Him long, long before our physical birth!
The whole shebang was in the beginning in the first set out
Bounce before the Big Bang the number zero before that
and within its circle was a marvelous exponent the pi
constantly pops up with the reasons to be alive!
The first creations were even before all of that
Foundation was laid the stone is a man and woman
indifferent grounds sprawled the eternity in between
that embraces the two with its endless varied beauty
making them truly the distinguished two for the one reality!
God made them with love from the bottom of the heart
Oh the bottom is nectar and more so the rose in bloom
embraces a sweeter debut flowering off a honeyed bud
God's ink flows, the sweetest ocean bellows, from the start
and to the end, all that heard it mellifluous!
Before the cloud basks in the blue dancing in the air
then rains down in serene melodies bedews the atmosphere.
Oh the all transparent ocean of God's first drop of ink goes viral
Fathima rises from the midst, the first spiritual woman swims out,
sipping every drop of this potion ‘there is more’ she clamoured
The begins the end yet no end God’s first creations triumph!
Nov 26, 2019
Nov 26, 2019 at 10:21 AM UTC
The rain's been relentless
I've been soaked for two days
the wind blowing sideways
Unavoidable fray
Cold to bone, I run bathwater too hot to handle
Want to sweat it all out, and to run myself pure
Pale steam 'round me rising, obscuring the candles
and thoughts of you run though my head, like a lure.
My clothes lie bedraggled, cast here on the floor
kindling flashbacks of searching for mine in your room
fully dressed again, kindly you'd showed me the door
and I left, leaving heartstrings caught up in your loom.
So here I am, aching
so here I am, tired
so here I am, glad for the perfume you left
So here I am, hopeless
I'm mystified, following
bright flashing memories, indeliberate gifts.
How can it be, chest cavity filling with sorrow
What small sweetened curse did you drip in my heart?
Chemicals mine, and chemicals foreign
weave conundrums of pain as your next work of art.
I loathe to think you've one resentment against me
Did I clarify all clamoured in heart and head?
moth to flame, I remember you hate them,
don't hate me
but also, remember- they all end up dead.
You'll never know, just what a blessing our time was
Precious stone, as you know are important to me
I am that Roman candle, actinic in pearls
my fog soon in passing, and I will be free.
So please, don't let too much dust cover our glow
Synchronicitous, meant to be, beautiful, rare
Something splendid as that, should be held in the heart
Hands of time have a tendency- obscure and tear.
so here I am, peaceful
so here I am, salient
the memories of your arms around me, your chest
so here I'm imagining your face before me
how perfect our moments
Thankyou, lover;
I'm blessed.
Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 8:56 AM UTC
Mistress of my passion, by whom I am enamoured
Thou art the golden yoke unto my soul
For thy tender affections I have craved and clamoured
To thee I dedicate this enchanted howl
To bear love aloft, to dedicate thy self
To the duty of Heart's compassion
May make the spirit swell in good health
And compel it to exquisite action
In thy light, which begets a radiance
I feel the guidance of a divinely wrought star
Enamoured of our mutual dalliance
I pledge and worship to thee from afar
My sweet entreaties I refine
To fathom love and soar divine
Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 11:36 AM UTC
Through a garden bedecked in the finest façade
In a natural beauty of eons compiled
An assault to the senses which quickens the pulse
Yet soothing the detail, organically styled
Its borders haphazard yet clearly defined
By a frenzied assortment of pollen clad blooms
Enhancing creation with lust and a craving
With nectar, ambrosia scented perfume
The thickets and bushes, with industry cloaked
A sprawling utopia thriving therein
With bees and with butterflies drinking their fill
And drizzled in webs which the spiderfolk spin
A meandering trail through flourishing life
An encouraging push from the sun to my rear
Entrancing, the chill of the dew underfoot
Yet thrusting itself like an ice laden spear
My sight is attracted by hidden desire
To a door at the crest of a flurry of stairs
And the stone of the flight is as fire to my soles
After languishing still as the midsummer glares
The door is ajar and within comes the sound
Of a single piano, adeptly caressed
Each note sends a shiver rebounding around me
In purity soaked and perfection possessed
I make my way forward and darkness inside
Removes me of sight as my pupils adjust
And the air is intense as a northerly breeze
And shimmers in motes cut of sunlight and dust
My eyes become clear and before me they see
Cascading and dancing a musical frieze
A picture in motion, a fairytale path
In a spectrum of tones and a myriad keys
Inspiration her name and the course she describes
Is a poem in light to beguile the mind
She speaks with her body, a wordless refrain
Of a mystery poets have clamoured to find
A pipe cuts a harmony no one could play
Distilling forever the passage of time
And though such a symphony draws at the tongue
Causality never once utters a rhyme
A pattern of shimmering images form
Behind inspiration and quickening pace
To fade with the music and ever be lost
Lest the pen of a poet can hold them in place
Most fickle of muses and teaser of tongues
To flirt with despair and to promise elation
We chase but remaining just out of out reach
Is the ghost of a girl which we call ‘Inspiration’
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 5:06 PM UTC
We are possibility.
Nothing undone:
the red key swung,
the pins aligned.
Spite and Malice -
you won in Burque;
in Buffalo, in April,
I'll be writing in coffee shops.
Cage made fake acrostics
and clamoured more than us.
He watered himself in blenders
tacked his piano like stigmata.
But really, he just put the right letter
on the correct line (if he
ever wrote a line),
but our house was a mess
of books and skulls
and everywhere you looked
too perfect a nest,
so we tore ourselves apart.
Why don't we stop?
Someone will spend graduate school
anthologizing our correspondence,
analyzing the details we missed,
et al., hic et nunc.
The girls dancing in Budapest
and the guys making passes at you in the snow
reduce us to baser instincts
by counting how we
could, might, tentatively
hurt again
on our second-class driver's test.
Fortunately, I am with you
when you look at computer screens
and you're with me at the bar
when television commercials
show off their bras and the beer hits
harder than libretto
and snus drips down the candle wax
making arcs like the Scott Monument.
The imperfection is bliss,
the knots loosen and move
up our spines. We'll soak
the tub and swell
our glands with menthe
and tumble
further down the mud,
until we either love or ****
what makes us whole.
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 8:35 AM UTC
The palindrome falls on shadowed riots,
clamoured mediocrity
and fever of falsified truths-
hyper-normalised until we’re writhing
in animatronic snake oil.
What’s worse, the hysteria or the disease?
Over-indulge the fascists
kiss their fists as they flail in cognitive dissonance-
white knuckles dragging to the rhythm of another media blag.
Patriotism cradles their fear and wraps it in red, white, and blue;
a stifled tricolour vision,
bathed in sanctified blood-clotted volition.
They’ll never let them come clean
they need their repugnance,
and inability to see that hope is an option
but the disparity is always just a news broadcast away.
Feb 2, 2020
Feb 2, 2020 at 3:01 AM UTC
At the front of the church stood the coolest guy in town.
Awaiting by the altar for the day to match his wildest dreams.
He stood.
He shook.
You could almost hear the rings jangling.
Silently waiting.
Anxiety sensed.
Adrenaline high.
Friends and family clamoured eagerly.
Waiting to see the beautiful lady.
That he was taking for his bride.
The local ladies loved him.
The local gents were jealous.
The door at the end of the aisle swung open.
Beauty personified?
The congregation were astonished.
As the groom and groom were gay.
No-one knew except the vicar, the best man and the two of them.
(C) Livvi
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 3:40 PM UTC
swans and swanettes
all clamoured to dance
with the cygnet's undesirable
admission's prance
they didn't know that this male
was such a bragging exposure
and would strip their secrets
leaving them without composure
a waltzing of blackmail
was called in his revelation
the lovely feathered ones
trust divulged as intimidation
they only saw the charade
of this not so perfect ballroom chap
who'd tell all if they were unwilling
to twirl on his spin's tap
in fear lived the honeys
of his fox trotting troupe
as their private steps
would be made an open coupe
Sep 18, 2016
Sep 18, 2016 at 2:28 AM UTC
I close my eyes
And you’re still there
you washed your hair
whilst the pots
and the pans
you left in your shower
clamoured for water
in calming tones.
padding feet
careful tread
A dancer? Maybe…
And I watched from
the ribbon of hall light
as you
wrung out your inhibitions
cleansed a small torment or two
Somewhere I hear a piano
your eyes found mine
and for a second I loved you
for a second there was but that second
and nothing, nothing more.
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 11:57 PM UTC
The last time I saw you,
I begged for
Stillness and silence
From the questions causing
Tremors in my head;
And for a split second,
They obliged.
After which they morphed from
The whimpers of a lovesick girl
Into an army of
Screaming and indignant women.
They flooded my mouth,
And clamoured against
The barricades that were my teeth
Held in a tight, fake smile.
I could feel my tongue
Straining to replicate the
Echoes of the questions
That had been seared onto
It's surface.
“What is this?”
“Is it supposed to hurt this much?”
I can't possibly let them out, can I?
So I chew, and swallow and
Chew
And
Swallow, and
Wince at its rancid acidity.
But they are relentless,
For I feel their sharp words
***** against the backs
Of my eyes.
They substituted tears,
And filled my eyes to the brim,
In the place of
A smile that never reached them.
I think you should
Acknowledge my tears now,
Its time I asked you a few questions.
Jul 9, 2017
Jul 9, 2017 at 10:05 AM UTC
In case my last to say goodbye,
It all came from a broken heart.
Falling in love from being shy,
To rising high falling apart.
No, it wasn’t for false honor,
Nor suffering for all to start.
From time said, “He was a goner,”
Kissed love not spoken left to ****
To be buried deep in maroon,
We pray not to sleep damnation.
Tears daring to hold back not soon,
What left to read but a raisin?
Old and clamoured not to tell them,
“I love you” - which lonely - seldom…
May 21, 2024
May 21, 2024 at 7:14 PM UTC
Your rambling on seems just that to minds twisted so tight.
Suffocating their sight for sweet melody of the real.
Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 12:35 PM UTC
Did you read the news someone blew up the stand where the boys and girls band play for the TV crew
They clamoured and shout get the **** out as tears run down their cheeks
And who is gonna prey to Jesus and who is gonna say don't cry today it'll all be okay but you and I know that's a lie
And in our hearts and minds
We watch as crazy people destroy, the ones we love and nobody can save on this day
Blood on the hands of the different man the death dealer of now, who hides behind faith and jokes in our face as we carry the dead to their grave
And so the song fades away
And so we go off and prey
And so we listen and say
Who we gonna trust, who will be the next
And the bombs just keep comming all day
Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 12:38 PM UTC