"cloaking" poems
I wake up in the bath
after a day on the wine.
Fat ******* arrives
at mine around nine.
Friday night and it's too much,
the temptation.
******* powder with dehydration.
Back into town,
bouncing around like a clown.
Absorbing attention,
I'm the star of the show.
I'm cloaking my secret,
the one they can't know.
I'm out of my mind
and I've no Idea where.
I cannot go back,
'cause she lives in there.
I've been running for years,
purge after purge.
Yet I know come tomorrow,
I'll again have the urge.
Because I need her
and I love her.
I am her!
Poetry by Kaydee.
Jun 29, 2018
Jun 29, 2018 at 3:58 PM UTC
He wrote of the light of the world,
a testament, a lamp to illuminate
the place from which he came —
I saw his lighthouse coalesce
out of the cloaking mist, its blade
shearing the sheath of darkness.
I inhaled the dusk bloom scent
- Four O’Clock Flower, Poinsettia, Frangipani -
beguiled by a road, undeterred
by calls in the night, the rain, the unknown way.
I sang with one thousand night-drunk tree frogs
proclaiming an equatorial cycle to the stars,
choristers intoning a chant of existence.
I rode balanced between
the cycling engine's torque and the
reflective cast of my foreign skin.
I felt the grip of ignominy constrict the stir
of my drink, amongst hands toasting
the crush of entitlement’s bearing.
I walked where people dwell, and stop
to greet and tell news of the market
or of their nets, bearing the sea’s returns.
I savored the song in his speech,
a seasoned stew, unshackling the tongue
to ring like the steel of a drum —
a tapestry unfurled: a world
paced by sirens of wind and wave,
embroidered on the earthbound side
of heaven's abiding blanket.
Copyright © 2017 Gary Brocks
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 4:46 AM UTC
~
a strange place to start
having not truly begun,
already beat down by the
lowdown
own a million rose colored words,
but some assembly required,
that's when the foreknowledge truth~rules
burns brain holes
easy is never
free,
poetry writing is
cussing hard work
~
spring rains cloaking warmth,
summer's stunning sunsets
demand submissive awed silence,
autumnal leave drops anointing
your refreshed humanity,
and yet,
one more time,
it is only within winter's white bitterness
lip tasting,
million tear-shaped snowflaked words,
is the crowning visible
of the head of
a newborn babe poet
~
hard.
Capital Hard.
in the beginning,
there was one,
a first work
and the knowing,
if it wasn't hard,
it could not be
any good,
makes it possible
to ease on
down
this fearful
revelationary road
trip
May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 5:15 PM UTC
Steam rises from the blocks of industry
beyond the immediate trees;
a thin white veil
cloaking the city like a bedsheet.
And you waking, displacing
your head about apathetically
trying to light a smoke
with sunlight -
this linear love on a tangent,
golden, some ornament.
Everything up then falling
each morning, with light
tethered to the ceiling
while you lay still
dazed from dreaming,
the day breaks unassuming.
Nov 4, 2016
Nov 4, 2016 at 10:46 AM UTC
A little promiscuous thought.
Bubbling to the surface of your mind
like molten rock from earths core,
It rises
rises
rises
rises
until it reaches the brim
Then without any warning
It erupts, and destroys everything.
The ashy residue comes raining down
cloaking the once green valley with blackness
the melted rock moving like molasses down the hill
turning everything that once was
into nothingness.
After the disaster seems over,
Things will regrow from the madness
Just waiting for the next eruption.
Just need some way
to control my volcano.
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 6:30 PM UTC
I fall to my knees,
Kneeling before you,
My Master,
Groveling at your glorious feet,
To reveal the chains of submission,
Weighing down my delicate form.
You gaze upon me,
Beholding soft skin shimmering,
As my body is folded over;
Viewing my tantalizing beauty,
As I bestow myself,
To fulfill your deepest desires,
Conjuring the darkest yearnings,
Manifesting within.
“Rise, Baby Girl’’,
Your deep voice commands,
Reverberating within this crimson colored chamber,
As your figure towers over me,
Beckoning my legs to stand,
Obliging to please you,
As my hazel eyes encounter,
The blazing intensity of your own,
Sending flames to burn,
Down to the small of my back.
Fear is the armor I allow to fall,
Tumbling to the ground,
Cloaking myself in trust,
As I allow my body to be,
Touched by dominant hands,
Trussed up by ropes and chains,
To restrain to me.
Willingly becoming prey,
To the sweet, antagonizing caress,
Before your hand aggressively strikes,
My behind,
Sending me into a realm,
Of pleasure and pain,
Morphing into one sensation.
Free is the response I experience,
As you bounds my wrists,
With your tie,
Pinning me down,
Straddling my body.
Placed between your thighs,
With your heated lips,
Conquering every inch of my body.
The Sting of the flogger,
Is a bite against the skin I crave,
As silence is the language,
I choose to speak,
Feeling your fingertips claim me,
As your territory to reign over,
As you please.
I yearn to satisfy the hunger,
Starving to be your nourishment;
For Sadism to feed,
Upon masochism,
As a balance of power is established,
As we lose ourselves in fiery passion.
Dominance and Submission,
Forces meant to bond to the other,
In a marriage of infliction and reception,
Of blissful agony,
Accepting the temptations you direct,
Towards me as guide,
To obtain our darkest of fantasies.
Submission speaks out within,
The silence as I give you,
A proffered hand,
Succumbing to the sensual dreams,
You promise to me,
Allowing you to possess me in any way,
You wish in accordance to our terms.
May you indulge upon my form,
Like decadent candy you crave,
To devour,
Savoring every taste,
Sound, smell, and touch,
In this licentious dance between you,
My Master,
And me, your fervent lady,
Of submission.
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 5:18 PM UTC
In an instant the sparkle showered me
Bathed in light and energy
Flowing flowing a waterfall of emotion
A connection stretching back in time
A piercing silence
Cloaking me in her calm
Her doors had been cast aside
Unexpected candor, laughter lilting
And bouncing, catching me off guard.
She wasn’t hiding behind the bush
Or running from tree to tree
She stretched the moments
Filled them with spirit
Flew to the rafters and beckoned me to join
I melted in her eyes, molten joy
Ready to be molded
Precious shapes, rare forms
Unknown beings.
I trusted her hands
Gripped me with delicacy
And a lightness of life.
That moment became a day
And that day will not end.
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 12:02 PM UTC
(On Moonlit Nights)
While others are busy jingle bell-ing
and Christmas tree-gazing,
i have wrapped myself, for
i am going back...
remembering anew
how it is to walk
under a star-laden Christmas sky
these tree-shrouded paths
leading to the sea...
alone and unafraid,
somehow, still hoping,
to feel your hand, holding mine...
Reliving once again
magical moments with thee,
silhouettes...of you and me.
This Christmas night...i walk
these paved shrouded paths.
i am desperately awaiting your presence,
for your body to be next to mine...
the blowing wind roars, and ends
as a soft sea breeze...
though it still stirs,
i feel a warm breath near my face...
my heart leaps.....then settles down
for, there's no one there when i turn to look...
a dream, you have become.
i see just a tall, bended shadow,
reaching down
to cover my shoulders
on this cold, cold night,
to caress my head,
cloaking me, shielding me.
this tree,
this silhouette,
will once again shelter me
on this, another moonlit night,
lonely and wasted,
for I am
without thee.
(October 13, 2013---6:09 AM)
Sally
Copyright 2013
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayann
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 7:15 PM UTC
Internal monologue,
to self, a note:
prose and poetry
I wrote
to what I loathe,
every word I chose
a potent seed of
grief I sowed.
Sturdy oak's
branches, limbs,
and stoic bones
turning into woes of
a weeping willow's roots
overgrown and exposed.
Grain of timber groans,
bends and bows
in billowing wind blown;
a coat of leaves
in ribbons, clothes,
cloaking grove and
hanging rope below;
around my neck,
coiled and closed,
asphyxiating, chokes.
Ungasping,
thrashing throes,
no breath can flow,
slowly losing hope;
devoted to
an unspoken oath,
towing this
floating ghost and
shadow of an ego
dangling alone
on threadbare throne,
only home
I've ever known.
So what, to this world,
do i still owe
and why can't I
just
let
go?
Feb 9, 2024
Feb 9, 2024 at 2:21 PM UTC
Ordnance of the wealthy, corrupt
Sculpting the public image.
Garnishing with admiration, cloaking gall.
Mass ****** and grand larceny
Have to, in some way, come clean in the books.
Money is fabricated out of thin air.
Know that you don’t know anything.
When debt is created, pockets are lined
This is the white way in a dark world.
When the receipts are missing, the cash is stashed.
Black must then become white for the sake of tax.
All of this ultimately boils down to charity.
Deplorable or reliable, evil or honest
Easiest way to wash the attic and eyes of the tax officers.
Feigning effigies and respect in the face of media
As they donate to those they’ve stolen from with a hearty smile.
Neither will recognize, but be eternally grateful the other exists.
Just another excuse to wake up in the morning and not feel awful.
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 4:51 AM UTC
Her Name is Woman
~for Woman~
The body replenishes, even the signs of decay
that come for reparation,
Positive confirmation
her organism survives, alive,
tree circles yet measuring time,
Till a devitalizing time comes, when,
this cellular process concedes degeneration
Then the wondering shifts; new facts sifted;
now the reckoning is not a calculation of
Mortality but of her living immortality;
dive to divine neath her black cloaking, reading
Wounded word revelations, her own Bible stories,
giving nomination to Woman-name
The long shadows that her souls excavations cast,
costs of her stories individual,
Highwaymen robbed her with glass knives
but each remaining black hole lights a story, lost, but
Burning icy inviting, pulling us into book boxes inside,
compost of sheets of composed white clarity
Care not that each riddling reference is obliged to be
oblique, inexplicit,
Woman her name, all encompassing,
her views codified in lines of faith,
Woman, is that not
a mining, and a manifest,
of hidden birthing,
comforting us in warm shades of
Human courage
12/26/18 5:51pm
Dec 26, 2018
Dec 26, 2018 at 5:57 PM UTC
I fell into a dream
waking up into a
cookie-scented utopia
of apostrophes that indicated
ownership
because it was Marc's cookie
and participles grasped and
secured
like a balloon tied to a toddler's hand
I fell into a dream
where nothing was kool or
rite
and everything had been
twice read, reviewed, evaluated, and
deemed worthy
like the cupcakes that get placed
on the plate in a
Cupcake War
I fell into a dream
of silence during silent work time
not invaded by a slithering serpent
fork-tongued and effulgent with ideas
expressing expressions
idioms cliches redundancies falsehoods
lies
and the silence hung like
an anticipated snow
cold cloaking with excitement
and a feeling of being completely
awake.
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 11:26 AM UTC
The cold distance between two hearts,
Once beating simultaneously, in unison -
A small disconnection,
A simple malfunction,
Unforeseen miscommunication amidst unvanquished certainty -
Muzzled, tightened grip,
Cloaking an angst shell of a body,
Harvesting repressed emotions,
Alluring a passive tongue -
Releasing an outpour of an outcry in an outburst,
Retribution -
Freedom released from with-in,
Healing of a contorted soul...
Commence.
Oct 28, 2012
Oct 28, 2012 at 1:58 AM UTC
There, amongst the northern skies,
Tears driven by ghostly squalls to
Fall on the blackened, bleak rooftops
Of this northern town, forgotten.
Left to a grey Victorian rot
Decaying factory ceilings collapsing on,
Litter strewn floors, newspapers decompose
With triumphs from yester year
Industrial dust stained brickwork
Grimy reminder, of the grim past
Haunted dim gaslight probing the fog
Days, nights only separated by murky light
A ghostly silence, hangs like a grimy fog
Cloaking lost sounds of dull beating on metal,
Boots tramping over cobbled stones,
The sounds of clocking on, clocking off, no more
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 5:22 PM UTC
The old man was standing,
still and quite,
his back turned to the sun
as it drowned
in stormy shades of orange and pink.
The old man was still and quite,
staring the wavy distant line
hills and mountains drew.
The warmness of the dying day
spread a scent of hay, exhaling,
a violet blue slowly cloaking
distance and nearness.
As the full moon rose
in close roundness,
brightening contours
in a charcoal outline,
the old man lowered his head
and turned away.
In the early morning,
their feet wet by the dew
glimmering the fields,
giggling children
and women with panniers
swinging in their hands
would come
and harvest
the ripening fragrancy
of strawberry fields.
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 6:04 PM UTC
For Andrew and his incredible courage.
Incredible the courage found to face the wrath of cancer,
Face the force, insidious, which eats the inside, out.
Face the trial erosion of eradication’s willpower,
Face the wall of silence in the primal need to shout.
Incredible the courage found to struggle on regardless
Keeping up appearance when exhaustion shouts...Let Go!
Hiding pain’s contortion in a parody of camouflage,
Cloaking blood, red suffering which really, now, must show.
Incredible the courage worn in lifting head from pillow
In struggling ***** again to meet a rising sun,
Smiling in the face of a diminishing tomorrow
Knowing that the enemy with-in's darkest game's begun.
Incredible the courage shown to meet the gaze of friendship
Knowing well the condemnation locked within that look,
Irrespective of the depth of friendship’s comprehension
They all don’t understand the pain to life’s unfinished book.
Incredible the courage there in fighting for tomorrow
Marshaling the forces to drive this Devil out,
Clawing back a toehold in the face of grey oblivion
Winning back small victory with brave and primal shout!
Marshalg
Pukehana
10 January 2014
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 10:54 PM UTC
You seem to know where you're needed
to whom this command addressed is a crazy me-man,
a street walking big DaVinci ibearded mumbler,
the kind you would cross the street
before the smell is close enough
to sending you running, not just
politely walking fast but a souped up
hi-yo silver away!
this guise no surprise,
you must and do
already know where I’m needed,
sealing the pact with a yellowtine post-it
writ in simple block letters ordered in a brewed cafe,
my latte arrive states my name as**
come see me
come to the time the place and the date
and prepare oneself for twenty and fours
of rigid interoperability as our systems
interface reach the pure state of 100%
ultimate wordless dialogue
communicating
in with by
perfect silence
heaven
you will write a verse,
my reciprocation
is already prepared
this terse repartee
will many spawn poems generational
for your family amazing and extended
an elephnat never forgets,
his servers are a rolling stone
with no direction home,
capacity unknown
every blade sighted retained,
and every sensate glance
a phrase seeded
departure will find me clean shaven,
pressed jeans neat,
and shod in well worn dockers,
cloaking my innate invisibility
when the children ask who was that,
you’ll sage reply
one new who knew where one was needed
Apr 8, 2019
Apr 8, 2019 at 10:18 AM UTC
*Like fairy dust caught in dappled sunlight they dance.
Swirling gracefully like a ballerina pirouetting
on a child's music box.
Graceful specks of fine dirt engrossed in cloaking
surfaces smooth and coarse.
Like petticoats caught in a summer breeze
rippling, and dipping, causing a sneeze.
Dust motes like a kilt swirling,
whirling in the kaleidoscope of daylight,
engross you in devoting a poem to their dance.
Those molecules, atoms of time passed.*
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 4:30 AM UTC
I am haunted with the breeze that was you...
Barely noticeable, a memory long gone, a faint whisper in the air.
Without any warning it becomes gusting with a voracious rage, cloaking my very being with rapacious eagerness, consuming me in whole.
I crumble to the floor like a tear-stained rag doll, destroyed by my unwillingness to admit, I miss you.
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 4:25 PM UTC
Under this silky whiteness,
Cloaking a hominid likeness.
This frosty awareness,
This thought-suspending numbness.
Dare I lift this veil?
Dare I solve this blanched myst’ry?
Dare I expel disbelief?
Dare I ***** anticipation’s hope?
The whispers of curiosity,
The desire to make visible,
The familiar face of serenity,
Render the boundary risible.
Under that shameful shroud,
(The face is familiar no more,
Serenity submits to Torment.)
Finality abounds.
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 9:48 AM UTC
I let you slip through my fingers
As every day yours began to slim
And the puzzle pieces that fit perfectly began to float away like melting ice caps under the Alaskan sun
And I wanted to hold you a little longer
But all the while I felt you absorbing into death like spilt coffee in a washcloth
And bit by bit I watched the sand of your hourglass slide to its end
You always told me you couldn't be scared because heaven was real and you kicked the devil sideways years ago
And for your sake I hope he stayed down, and for your sake I hope you were right
But these days it feels like he's standing up, holding his side, coming back for revenge
He's got his pliers out and he's coming for my soul and I'm kicking I'm fighting I'm screaming
But I'll never be as strong as you and I never learned how to keep afloat of my own sin
So now I'm sinking
And I sit and listen to them speak in artificial intelligence
And wonder how they've kept the devil down
Do they stand on his back and scream "You can't have me now"
Or has he just lost interest like I have?
When all sounds are lost and I've made enough tissue paper thin excuses to stay alone for a few hours, I picture your smile, cloaking me like warm candlelight
But you know the wind came years ago and now it's a flickering warmth
I remember your fingers, skeletal now
And I hope you were right
I hope our slender fingers meet one day
But for now I will feign strength and grind my fears to dust with a mortar and pestle
And for the time being
I cannot look at my own hands
For fear that they be bloodstained
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 4:08 PM UTC
Church bells ring of voices silenced
a darkened Moon is hanging low
crickets stop to hear the empty
as loving waters overflow
As angels call in voices singing
notify my heart goodbye
as deafened ears are opened up
no more tears are left to cry
Dying leaves, a crimson carpet
indigo ink at levied banks
waters flood my aching heartbeat
raising hands to you in thanks
Cloaking eyes, I'm in the shadows
petitioning you another dance
whispering the coming reaper
if only I could have a chance
Softly come draped in darkness
ebony casts a ghostly glow
lovely bones in alabaster
putting on a secret show
Taking off the heavy waiting
holding down my paper heart
a poets voice cannot be silenced
by ticking hands you pushed apart
Silver tears they fall in quiet
in rivers taken right or wrong
releasing me & painful weighting
and sing me as I come along
Violins they speak so mellow
calling me as I go home
morning comes a glowing ember
left for you an Earthly loam
As the leaves outside are falling
and thickened air bids me farewell
whispering of my departure
& secrets I may never tell
although in this...
you mustn't dwell
Waving you off
in slow motion
blinking lashes bid adieu
darkened cloakroom,
veiling... hiding
memories of loving you
the only love
I really wanted
the one I never... really knew.
Cherie Nolan © 2016
Sep 18, 2016
Sep 18, 2016 at 12:36 PM UTC
DIMASH THE SHEPHERD
(Story of One Sky Conclusion)
I am
Shepherd
Cloaking myself
In God’s soft simplicity
My tasks complete
Songs sung
Light shone
Souls ignited
Each day seven wheels
Revolved their full degrees
Now the Awakening
know that Love is the Strike
of Light on the sleep
of a hundred thousand
years of wrenching knots
I return to You
to dissolve again
in your gentle
Ecstasy of knowing
Yourself as Voice
Each of Your atoms
in a chant or falsetto
resonated in freedom’s
True radiant White
How you ached to know
if You could go further
than planets not yet discovered
You did through each of my
Harmonic breathes
Now I’m done to
cuddle frolicking lambs
and hold my staff
as heaven’s drumstick
It will beat the
silent space between
Resonating genes
You are well pleased
Our art of evolution
continues to vibrate
in every fingertip
each sea-sponge and
Sand grain
Refreshed I will descend
then ascend again
as You instruct
to expose muted layers
My F-sharps alchemising
wolves with nightingales
I bow to You
As I hood !
©GhairoDanielsPoetry2022
Sep 14, 2025
Sep 14, 2025 at 4:52 AM UTC
[Here lies...]
Here lies memory.
Kneeling grief,
monologue
cloaking grave stones
loveless hands polished.
Self pity
in automotion.
Solitude.
Who will love us now?
Retelling stories
of the gone past,
biased truth
to elude
this
emptyness.
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 9:45 AM UTC
Autumn warmth
and rusted leaves hide
the shrouded chill lurking high
in northern lands,
mustering its icy warriors
to creep down in the night.
Keening winds gather dark clouds
about them cloaking the moon and stars
and with furtive breath ****
the warmth from all about.
Icy blasts ravage the tired trees
as crystal flakes
cascade down from heavy skies;
beautiful, dancing nymphs
misleading my sight
numbing the air,
reaching out to every
crack and cranny.
They gather higher and higher,
blown into dark corners
climbing to my window ledge
as frosty tendrils slink down from the roof,
twining down my window pane
obscuring the outside from my sight …
Then, as morning’s pale light
oozes in through tight closed shutters,
I open my door onto a strange
and barren world:
all that was ordinary and familiar to me,
through verdant spring
and hot high summer,
to autumn’s parade of golden hues,
is lost to the white shroud of
Winter’s Creep.
© 2010/2012
Sep 10, 2012
Sep 10, 2012 at 5:04 PM UTC