"clatters" poems
How beautiful is the rain!
After the dust and heat,
In the broad and fiery street,
In the narrow lane,
How beautiful is the rain!
How it clatters along the roofs,
Like the ***** of hoofs!
How it gushes and struggles out
From the throat of the overflowing spout!
Across the window pane
It pours and pours;
And swift and wide,
With a muddy tide,
Like a river down the gutter roars
The rain, the welcome rain!
* * * *
In the country, on every side,
Where far and wide,
Like a leopard’s tawny and spotted hide,
Stretches the plain,
To the dry grass and the drier grain
How welcome is the rain!
16.7k
Loosing is not an option
its a choice
sucess is not permanent
it is a roller coaster ride
goes up and down
slide left and right
at the peak or at the bottom
sometimes high or sometime it clatters
someone cries at the end ,
someone got it a lot better
aftermath,they got wobbly legs
can't stand straight
or enjoys it before it ends.
thrill excites but never resides
fun is transitory but still entertaining
hardwork is persistant and challenging
Tears become companion in the journey
happy or sad eyes let them flow
choose as per your desire
because there is no turning back
never saw turns that left behind
chasing the speed
to overcome the distance readily
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 10:48 AM UTC
In this evil year, autumn comes early...
I walk by night in the field, alone, the rain clatters,
The wind on my hat...And you? And you, my friend?
You are standing--maybe--and seeing the sickle moon
Move in a small arc over the forests
And bivouac fire, red in the black valley.
You are lying--maybe--in a straw field and sleeping
And dew falls cold on your forehead and battle jacket.
It's possible tonight you're on horseback,
The farthest outpost, peering along, with a gun in your fist,
Smiling, whispering, to your exhausted horse.
Maybe--I keep imagining--you are spending the night
As a guest in a strange castle with a park
And writing a letter by candlelight, and tapping
On the piano keys by the window,
Groping for a sound...
--And maybe
You are already silent, already dead, and the day
Will shine no longer into your beloved
Serious eyes, and your beloved brown hand hangs wilted,
And your white forehead split open--Oh, if only,
If only, just once, that last day, I had shown you, told you
Something of my love, that was too timid to speak!
But you know me, you know...and, smiling, you nod
Tonight in front of your strange castle,
And you nod to your horse in the drenched forest,
And you nod to your sleep to your harsh clutter of straw,
And think about me, and smile.
And maybe,
Maybe some day you will come back from the war,
and take a walk with me some evening,
And somebody will talk about Longwy, Luttich, Dammerkirch,
And smile gravely, and everything will be as before,
And no one will speak a word of his worry,
Of his worry and tenderness by night in the field,
Of his love. And with a single joke
You will frighten away the worry, the war, the uneasy nights,
The summer lightning of shy human friendship,
Into the cool past that will never come back.
3.8k
I pull my damp,
faded jean's jacket
out of the machine.
Something clatters.
Oh good, a dime.
No. A cherry seed.
Now you're going to tell me
that cherry have pits, right?
But "pit" is such a dismal little word.
And this shiny clean trophy sports
a history of petty thievery,
committed in the local grocery store.
A big yellow cherry with a pink blush.
Just one, chewed boldly. Its hard center
hidden in my pocket.
Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 3:48 PM UTC
Once upon a time, Oh but that’s such a boring way to start-
Once upon a time.
I was little red riding hood that knowingly stepped
onto the wrong side of the path,
Hoping that a monster in the woods
would come and get me, but you-
A hurricane,
car crashes in slow motion,
personified heartbreak-
Too much.
Too much applesauce madam? The waiter asked, clean-shaven face bathed
In the New York skyline, ignorant to the gunfire explosions
inside me as I waited for you.
No thank you, sir.
“Meet me at the station”,
scrawled in messy, love- stained letters
In between the railway roars and the clatters of foreign accent, you've flaked again, like the struck chord of a bass
Signifying disappointment like a punch line
Reverberating through my skull.
Okay, repeat the mantra, one-two-steady-
Okay. It's Okay.
Four weeks later
I had your body pushed up flush against bricks and-
No shut up you don’t get to say anything after you go and shatter me like that
You’re sick do you know that? Lips snarling, heart breaking.
You’re sick.
So maybe I was the big bad wolf after all.
Stairwell bricks glinted off iridescence and
your mouth in that sad, sad laugh
Studying me like a dream brought
to the ground,
Puffy lipped and eyes blown wide like I was on some psychedelic high-
And you said
*“You’re still a child with fanciful ideas of love, and the way you cling onto them-
Quite frankly, it’s terrifying.”*
Please darling, let me redefine myself
Skip the pleasantries and small talk,
scrap the story of little red riding hood-
Once upon a time, I was apology and you were forgiveness
I can imagine inside you, of alarm bells and sunken souls
as you listen to the static white noise of
A dying heart
Hello darling, are you there? Can you hear me? Is this mic working?
I hate to sound like those magazine cut outs-
I hate to sound like,
Just another lover, just another cliché-
But you were the matchstick to my dynamite
and nothing feels better
Than my own self- destruction, so won’t you please
Another chance? No?
Even Lucifer sometimes longs to be let
Into the gates of heaven again
I’ve cooked some apology,
I saved a plate for you
So for the love of god come inside and have some before it goes cold.
Oct 24, 2018
Oct 24, 2018 at 5:04 AM UTC
They will not take my gun.
Get me their guns.
I have a right to my property.
They have a duty to obey us.
It is my responsibility to stand for what I believe in.
It is our responsibility to make them submit.
I hate them.
They will love us.
I say, break the law!
Do they dare go against us?
I petition; I riot; I will not go down without a fight!
We beat; We arrest; We will not lose this fight!
Alas, I am the only one left.
One insubordinate citizen remains.
I fire my gun for my freedom.
I fire my gun for our respect.
My only defense clatters to the ground.
I knock the gun out of his traitorous grip.
I fear what they will do to my family and me.
It is much safer to be feared than loved.
I take one last act to retrieve what is rightfully mine.
I take one last act to retrieve what is lawfully ours.
Then we both reach for the gun.
Then we both reach for the gun.
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 4:30 AM UTC
Tiny toes pitter patter,
The dish, the spoon, china clatters,
In the end it doesn't matter,
Nothing is new anymore.
Reduce, reuse, and recycle,
Take an inch, I go a mile.
Faces tighten with a smile,
Tired ankles, wanderlust-sore.
Marching songs, stomping feet,
Blood shed on the fresh cleaned street,
Sight of violence, scent of defeat,
Find a way home, find a way home.
Louder voices, stronger words,
Fleeing children, roosting birds,
Frame and focus, rule of thirds,
Final days of the Peace of Rome.
Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 1:26 PM UTC
The owl-car clatters along, dogged by the echo
From building and battered paving-stone.
The headlight scoffs at the mist,
And fixes its yellow rays in the cold slow rain;
Against a pane I press my forehead
And drowsily look on the walls and sidewalks.
The headlight finds the way
And life is gone from the wet and the welter--
Only an old woman, bloated, disheveled and bleared.
Far-wandered waif of other days,
Huddles for sleep in a doorway,
Homeless.
2.3k
I'm irritated and I'll
pour this bowl
of wrath on all
the things
around me
punch holes and
shiver through
the sudden bleak
Emptiness
around me
fill it back up
with liquor until it
sloshes away down this
knife hole and it
clatters to the ground
even though it's got my
fingerprints on it
I can wince through these
tears and cover it because
I'm irritated
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 7:10 PM UTC
When I'm home alone,
I feel empty.
The circles under my eyes...
Bruises.
Wind carries through cracks,
Mice scratch scratch scratch scratch...
Something clatters.
Whispers?
Footsteps?!
And suddenly it's loud.
My heart pound pound pounds...
Adrenaline.
Anxiety.
Getting closer...
Quick! Grab a weapon!
I call out:
"Is someone there?!"
Silence.
And suddenly it is all quiet again.
Dec 1, 2020
Dec 1, 2020 at 8:30 PM UTC
December tenth stares from a wall,
At a girl with night-colored hair and
Eyes the shade of a twilight
That blurs purple into the darkness.
The girl looks out
At the blurred edges of this night’s snowflakes,
Falling softly past the windowpane
And down to empty streets below.
It has been more than a month since her birthday,
Her escape from fourteen
That twirled around the clock
A hundred or more times before
Finally stopping.
Maybe not a hundred times,
It was only one month
Repeating again and again
With thirty days of sunshine and one of rain,
Only one of rain.
Madoka always dies on rainy days.
A teacup clatters,
Not quite the clinks of shattering glass,
But startling all the same.
The awakened girl looks into
Kind eyes and golden curls left free to spill over a friend’s shoulder.
Still intentional in all movements,
The golden girl continues setting up the rest of that midnight’s meal.
Tiramisu melts upon tongues as
Two friends sit in silence,
And two survivors let their thoughts soften with the disappearing cake.
The quiet reigns,
Until the twilight girl leaves
With the waking of dawn’s light.
A soft “thank you” drifts with the snow behind her
While unnumbered days rise up ahead,
Forever blocking her sight of what’s to come.
Sep 15, 2018
Sep 15, 2018 at 6:41 PM UTC
Through past/present/future, the Imagist Express still clatters, bending time, space,
and everything else that truly matters.
The eclectic, mingled aroma
of Turkish coffee, French onion soup,
and spicy Kung Pao almonds,
wafts from the kitchen,
stinging the ornamental eyes
carved into the lounge car's ceiling.
A draft clears the air—
squinted eyes become wide-angle lenses;
pupils melt like hot candle wax,
dripping onto toes that are tapping
to the rhythmic beat of iron bones
spinning 'round below.
Barely—just barely,
the passengers feel the engine's migratory yearning as the conductor switches the tracks
of thought, so mesmerized they are
with their reflections in the windows:
pale faces dangling from a moistened,
black bough. The strange, intoxicating fruit
hangs
amongst the smudges of fingerprints,
their spirals, bending time, space,
and everything else that truly matters.
Apr 1, 2010
Apr 1, 2010 at 6:33 PM UTC
"good morning"
a distracted nod
the door opens
"have a nice day"
a preoccupied glance
the elevator closes
"have a nice weekend"
an abstracted smile
the register clatters
oh the niceties of the ersatz existence
Feb 15, 2013
Feb 15, 2013 at 9:24 AM UTC
oh how often i stay awake
laying in bed staring at the ceiling
my sister painted for me
when i was
7 years old.
things were different then
my life wasn't cluttered with
catastrophe and agony
as i dealt with everything around me
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
back again in the same spot as before
my head swims parallel to the ocean floor
as i sit in my room
my thoughts are emptied
and my heart is filled with gloom
my uncle, the man that taught me so much
had passed away from a heart attack on his living room couch
i briefly denied the fact he was dead
he couldn't - he wouldn't - it made no sense in my head
i could have been with him but rather instead
i cried for him in his hospital bed
to wake up
these dark sparked remarks
leave my brain spotted with questions
i answer them quietly as i reflect against my past
when a small unknown sound
shatters the silence in my room
it clatters and pit patters resonating my mind's tomb
my heart has fallen through the floor
and my empty thoughts are no more
Apr 19, 2018
Apr 19, 2018 at 12:28 AM UTC
I am Lion dressed as lamb
A King wearing a woolly coat
As my eyes turn red with
an increasing heart beat
and the heat of the sun
I know I have to run
While weaker men may
cry and weep in the battle
field they pray.
My laughter like armour
ripped from dead bodies
clatters through their soul.
And amongst all the waste
sliding down the valley they
hear my voice echo as they
know they have met the
GOD OF WAR.
Press me and you may find
an almost pessimistic mind
but only because i build a
house with stone.
A thousand times I offer my love
a thousand times the world says no.
A thousand times I search for God
and only find a silence, a nothing.
A thousand times I seek my fortune
and only find fools gold.
My mind my 2 inch thick skull beaten
and folded, layered and layered fire
welded like the finest sword.
Strengthened with the forces of
fire and water, sharpened and
grounded by the trials of life.
For there is no need for fantasy
walk on water fairy tale land
with my battle hardened mind.
And the devil you are all so
frightened of he is mine and
I love him.
As I am here to free your mind
so let it be pessimistic critical
unleash your dragon.
For unlike all your GURU'S
I say the battle is not inside
but on the outside.
I never get lost or disappear
into the black hole of my
mind but hold the blackness
up in the face of darkness.
All the No's of my mind become
my spear my shield.
Standing square all the world
fears my sword.
A hardened head a shield i carry
in front of me. with an unleashed
love I am pulled forward.
As a million soldiers stamp their
feet inside my head.
With spiraling forces expressing
curling themselves onward.
As I drill out new spaces
in new places.
As I am swept up by the cogs
of space and time I get a glimpse
of GODS passion.
Completely protected I smash
and smash myself forward as
I am like a planet sling shot
around.
Though my mind may feel closed
my heart is always open.
Riding on an expanding natural
force I know myself to be much
bigger.
As you cannot contain the power
of my yes anymore than an
exploding universe.
As God says no amount of no's
stopped me making all of you.
By being hear I know I have
already won.
As I have been bursting out of
sun spots, super nova's stars
ever since time began.
Much can be learn't from the RAM
with his soft heart and hard mind.
Sep 25, 2015
Sep 25, 2015 at 4:08 PM UTC
***** my body
The needles thread through me
Pierce me Pierce me
I'm crying in thread
Inside I'm mostly dead
I knot inside
Shooting the needle down me
Slicing softly my skin bleeds
I'm aching on my knees
Help me help me
No one hears me
All I ever cry
Help me help me
The thread is twisting
No one's to blame
It's such a shame
After all the twisting
My thread is slowly ripping
Center in my arms
Give me more scars
Stabbing stabbing
Where's my mommy and daddy
They left me to bleed
They broke their seed
needles run inside
Laughing and breaking my sanity
I'm dying I'm dying
God help me I'm crying
The needles are physical
Not metaphorical
Bruise my skin
I let the craft win
What is it creating
I'm still awaiting
I think it's trash
My colors all clash
If you throw me away
Will it stop the gruelling pain
Please I beg
God please lay me to bed
I've had far too much thread
My blood is turning to lead
The needles crept in long ago
They put on a menacing show
I want to go home
But there's...no where to go
My needle can't be tied off
The thread only falls
Blood platters
My heart clatters
I'm left untied
God please you know how hard I've tried
Tie my thread off for good
Please, if you would
Stop the sew
End me and all that I know
Aug 2, 2019
Aug 2, 2019 at 2:52 AM UTC
the leaden
wetness of an
October snowfall
cloaks branch
and bough
of woefully
laden
trees
the pressing
mass
a weighty
strain
prostrates
mighty
hardwoods
to autumns
cold ground
as a
truculent
Nor'Easter
claws its way
through
the uneasy
Mid-Atlantic
night,
the crash of
creaking
maples and
popping oaks
persistently
echo through
the black
woods of
this
trembling
evening
power flickers
perplexed grids
go down
extinguishing
the warmth of
suburban
house lights
the growing
aggregation
of crushing
pressure
on tensile
taxed
branches
snaps
the firmest
wood
an
incessant
barrage
of
thumps
and
dings
splatter
against
the
house
while the
shuddering
uncertainties
of frightened
children
rise
as each
limb
clatters
to
earth
our
cowering
bivouac
draws
the
incessant
fire
of a
harassing
fusillade
from
legions
of
invisible
snipers
as
swooping
gusts
threaten to
relieve more
arboreal
tension
praying
limbs
fail
to pierce
the safety
of thinly
tiled
roofs
our
abiding
hope
remains to
escape
the
next
random
blow
of fate
the
night of
falling trees
stirs our
sleepy
hamlet
from an
uneasy
midnight
slumber
10/29/11
Oakland
jbm
Nov 8, 2011
Nov 8, 2011 at 9:38 PM UTC
When it's three am
and the cold water splashes
against your face, wiping
away the sweat of another
nightmare,
When it's just about noon
and the old fork clatters
from your hand, moving
beyond the loneliness of another
meal,
When it's half past six
and the exasperated sigh escapes
from your lips, easing
aside the tension of another
day,
that is when I hope you recall,
remember, that once--
much more than once--
I was your gratifying well,
your overflowing banquet,
your everlasting breath.
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 3:10 AM UTC
I never saw how truth had mattered
Like backdrops to my life I'd taken
Breathless, leaving dreams in tatters
In youth, my steps were reckless patters
By days ignored my eyes awakened,
Led down lazy steps and ladders
Stumbling blindly, scarred and scattered,
Naivety and fear had shaken
My sense of spirit, mind and matter
So vanity had come to flatter
All egocentric ways I'd taken
Disguised in selfish pangs and clatters
Learning quick from past disasters
To discard my trepidation
I sought instead more lucid matters
To slay the creature growing fatter
And lay to waste this beast I'd wakened,
I'd wield the mirror that once flattered
All frail illusions must be shattered,
Lies learned in youth must be forsaken
Unbear'bly tough and yet, no sadder
All narcissistic nightmares scattered
They bowed to honor's conflagration:
The knowledge that all others matter
The beast is slain, his den in tatters
He faced the truth: his loved ones matter.
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 1:19 PM UTC
The glinting steel,
the bell-guard bright
Beneath the stark fluorescent light
Upon the armor, black and white
The Epees two did wheel
I dance, dart, leading with my unbloodied tip
The battered blade glints and clatters
I grapple with another steel and titanium edge,
Twisting, trampling, fighting
Thirsting for blood, the electric jolt of victory
I wait.
A mistake, an opportunity, an open port
The walls are breached, the banner glows red
And victory cries its piercing song.
Then, A pause.
Prepared again, back into the fray I dart
Adrenaline rushing through my warm, glinting steel
A catch, a crunch, a splitting sword
My upper half flies, spinning, across the battlefield.
Flashing back, battles won and lost
Then cold silence
He who lives by the sword dies by the sword.
And the brightest flame burns half as long.
Jun 15, 2011
Jun 15, 2011 at 9:21 PM UTC
laughter: a mask
and a medicine for his pain. they pay him no mind.
to them ,
he is barely a person, a tool. his
flesh melts into metal, his arms levers, his face flat and featureless.
he mocks his fears and flaws,
his pain,
secretly hoping that
will make them
a mere joke,
a fantasy.
it fails, it always fails, but the smiley faces stenciled on his exoskeleton
of reassurance of his state of mind
are still there.
so he clatters on, joking, grinning,
his laughter his mask and his medicine.
Jun 22, 2016
Jun 22, 2016 at 9:31 PM UTC
Cast iron clouds call their brushed allegiance to the age-clad masonry.
Whilst the mangled percussion of the infants' school bickers
with the soft tones of the older boys' band.
Still their sound is drowned by the whistling wind,
carrying parents' pleas that it's time to leave,
as the small groups crawl through the churchyard.
In a mossy corner, the window-man clatters,
with his brushes and buckets at the side of the oak shaded vicarage.
A scarf slides from an old man's neck
whilst he motionlessly salutes the monument;
his medals are dull in the lacklustre light.
But for all that's here, there's one thing not,
where I sit by this silent 'here lies' spot.
Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 6:02 PM UTC