"clutched" poems
listen
beloved
i dreamed
it appeared that you thought to
escape me and became a great
lily atilt on
insolent
waters but i was aware of
fragrance and i came riding upon
a horse of porphyry into the
waters i rode down the red
horse shrieking from splintering
foam caught you clutched you upon my
mouth
listen
beloved
i dreamed in my dream you had
desire to thwart me and became
a little bird and hid
in a tree of tall marble
from a great way i distinguished
singing and i came
riding upon a scarlet sunset
trampling the night easily
from the shocked impossible
tower i caught
you strained you
broke you upon my blood
listen
beloved i dreamed
i thought you would have deceived
me and became a star in the kingdom
of heaven
through day and space i saw you close
your eyes and i came riding
upon a thousand crimson years arched with agony
i reined them in tottering before
the throne and as
they shied at the automaton moon from
the transplendant hand of sombre god
i picked you
as an apple is picked by the little peasants for their girls
82.4k
the darkness swallowing the light,
the walls coming close,
the eerie sounds filling the room.
the sweat running down his forehead,
the sun nowhere to be seen.
the loneliness,
creeping in.
and grabbing your neck,
from behind.
the pitch black soul,
losing everything.
his eyes slowly blurring as everythings starts
to fade.
and then…
he drops.
unknowingly controlling every single
movement.
and making everything go wrong.
the body is slowly dying
as the human brain gives up.
and the fear
***** in
your soul.
the body hitting the floor,
with the dead phone clutched tightly in his
hand,
the face
pale
and filled with
darkness.
Oct 25, 2018
Oct 25, 2018 at 10:27 AM UTC
*I think to be thoughtful
I speak to be heard*
I write to decipher
The truth in my words.
*I smiled to ensnare you
I laughed to secure*
You slipped through the trap
That I built to procure
*I kissed to consume you
I hugged to enfold*
My arms close on nothing
You're no where to hold
*I writhed to entrance you
I clutched you to keep*
Now the place where I hold you
Resides in my dreams.
I write so you'll read this
My hand pens the truth
All that I've written,
I've written for you.
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 2:20 PM UTC
A lady in blue.
In a purse
unzipped,
A coral pink lipstick
A rose blusher
A bronzed eyeshadow
A fuschia eyeshadow
A black eyeliner
A mascara
A compact powder
A lipgloss.
Strolling in a park,
The purse
clutched.
Poised.
Protected.
Nov 18, 2011
Nov 18, 2011 at 12:17 AM UTC
I heard a howling
in the woods,
freezing me
right where I stood.
That sound:
it turned my blood to ice
I knew he'd hunt me
this full moon night.
Great, big footsteps
pounding near;
Their deadly echo
resonating with fear.
His heavy breathing
reeked of blood and thirst.
I knew right then,
I was in for the worst.
I clutched my throat
in desperate need
of oxygen
so I could breathe.
Unluckily
I began to faint.
Knowing, once black,
I'd never wake.
And just as my eyes
began to close
I saw his wet,
sniffing nose.
I felt
his snarling teeth
biting deep
inside of me.
Then I knew
that I was done.
I had lost
and he had won.
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 7:08 PM UTC
A shout out to LeBron
For a big night in Akron
A welcome win for the Cavaliers
Tonight against the TimberWolves.
Cavs finally ended the drought
Via the energy they brought.
Coach Tyronn Lue drew up a game plan
That finally brought a win to the land.
Both teams put up a spectacular show
Leaving the erratic Cavs fans like wow!
The combined 3s of forty was historic,
Shot by both teams was really fantastic!
Tonight LeBron played like a real GOAT!
Playing great basketball from all over the court!
The big block on Butler is not what this is about,
But the clutched game winner fadeaway he shot!
IBPoetry
2/8/2018
Feb 8, 2018
Feb 8, 2018 at 12:25 AM UTC
Yesterday it took me 3 hours to calm down
It was one of our best dates
As I went to sleep and I clutched my pillow
I still felt your hand in mine
This is why I never got over you...
Yet I know I shouldn't get attached
But deep down I know I love you
And we don't have long till you go
This is why, I need to leave after you do
I can't stand living in this city
When I know I will never be happy here
Not without you by my side
Problem is we can't be right now
...
Because we would hold each other back
All your dreams and mine will have to do
I would never want to hold anyone back
From achieving their true potential
Being together would do that to you
If I love you I will let you go and not fight
Although it will **** me when we are apart
I will settle for the happiest I will ever be
For the time we have left
Yet I know it will be a beautiful goodbye
The firery walls are slowly caving in
Yet I am clinging on to every last second
In my head I am holding you and just
Slow dancing in this burning room
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 3:12 PM UTC
On a distant summer
a girl walked four miles
to sell fruits at the haat
and mowed by the May heat
fell asleep on a patch of concrete.
The noon dusts played around her
*sleep little girl rest your feet
the winds will play you a song
refresh you with dreams so sweet
the walk back home won't be long.*
The sun had slid the shadows grown
when opened her dream dazed eyes
there she was at the haat all alone
her fruits in the basket had dried.
She had dreamed a round dime
clutched in her palm
colored gold with her wish
she had slept thru the time
and when the winds calmed
held nothing to buy home a fish.
Time has flown those dusts far away
years have grown her wise
yet when the winds blow lonely in May
her tears she cannot disguise.
Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 9:49 AM UTC
She sat on the shore line with a shell to her ear.
Wanting the sound of the sea to reveal,
if her sweetheart were anywhere near.
Sadly, as she clutched it so close to that ear.
She feared never would she see him again,
after his trip to Port au Spain.
Her pain,
it so fiercely burned into her side .
As she somehow realised,
that his love was maybe denied.
And she cried until the setting sun ,
fell from the sky.
When all was said and done.
Walked and walked til she was gone.
The sun did set,
he and her henceforth met.
Over the foam, they did roam,
The fisherman and his lost lover
(c) Livvi
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 9:15 AM UTC
Blown away in a moment, asunder,
by a breeze with a feel of shudder.
Blown from within the bone,
above my head, transparently shown.
I'm being ripped from tip to toe,
like from mother, without a woe.
The gush, it rings in the ears,
the stream is absent of my deepest fears.
Got rived - it was like nothing else;
Blown away in a second,
apart from all my cells.
Like silk in the hands of a weaver,
it is pleasant, yet I shiver.
Like a cup of cold water after a mint,
all across my body, comfortably skinned.
I didn't knew that I'll get clutched,
I never asked, to be touched.
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 6:27 PM UTC
On her way to work one morning
Down the path along side the lake
A tender hearted woman saw a poor half frozen snake
His pretty colored skin had been all frosted with the dew
"Poor thing," she cried, "I'll take you in and I'll take care of you"
"Take me in tender woman
Take me in, for heaven's sake
Take me in, tender woman," sighed the snake
She wrapped him all cozy in a comforter of silk
And laid him by her fireside with some honey and some milk
She hurried home from work that night and soon as she arrived
She found that pretty snake she'd taken to had bee revived
"Take me in, tender woman
Take me in, for heaven's sake
Take me in, tender woman," sighed the snake
She clutched him to her ***** "You're so beautiful," she cried
"But if I hadn't brought you in by now you might have died"
She stroked his pretty skin again and kissed and held him tight
Instead of saying thanks, the snake gave her a vicious bite
"Take me in, tender woman
Take me in, for heaven's sake
Take me in, tender woman," sighed the snake
"I saved you," cried the woman
"And you've bitten me, but why?
You know your bite is poisonous and now I'm going to die"
"Oh shut up, silly woman," said the reptile with a grin
"You knew **** well I was a snake before you took me in
"Take me in, tender woman
Take me in, for heaven's sake
Take me in, tender woman," sighed the snake
Dec 24, 2019
Dec 24, 2019 at 8:42 PM UTC
My First Day at Hogwarts
On a Saturday morning,
I woke up in pain.
Perched on top of my head,
Was an owl shaking its mane.
As I focused my glance,
the owl got clearer.
There was something clutched in its beak;
a pale yellow letter.
When I opened it,
words started to bloom,
Mr Y. Vartak,
The inner bedroom.
‘You have a place
in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,
Points will be taken for wrong,
and awarded for bravery.’
I showed it to my parents,
Who were not at all surprised.
They were in fact very happy,
I am a wizard I realized!
We took a plane to London,
Visit Diagon Alley.
In a hurry to buy my first wand,
robes and stationery.
It was the first of September,
so we hurried to Kings Cross.
We got to platform nine and three quarters,
after struggling through the chaos.
I had everything in my trunk,
I had nothing more to get.
My parents surprised me,
by giving me an owl as a pet.
I got a seat in the Hogwarts Express,
and put my robes,
There was a boy opposite me,
he was juggling bewitched globes.
We got off the train,
At Hogsmeade Station.
There was an amazing castle,
that was beyond my imagination.
We rowed across the lake,
sitting on boats,
It was getting colder,
so we pulled on our coats
We entered the hall,
Full of eyes.
There was a roof above us,
that represented the vast skies.
There was a dusty hat,
in the middle of a stage,
It had a rip near the brim,
so it looked older than its age.
A professor named Minerva,
Put that hat on my head.
The rip opened like a mouth,
Interesting is what it said.
The Sorting Hat as it was called,
said that he had to think some more,
After a while it yelled:
‘He’ll go in GRYFFINDOR!’
I joined the Gryffindor,
at the Start-Of-Term Feast.
We were so involved I talking,
we cared for our sleep the least.
After the feast, we departed,
for Gryffindor Common Room,
Outside the portrait hole, there was,
a shiny black broom.
I changed from my robes to my nightdress,
lay down watching the dying ember.
My eyelids were getting heavy,
I walked into a deep slumber.
This poem is written by me,
Yash Singh.
Specially written for my favourite,
Joanne Kathleen Rowling.
Sep 8, 2019
Sep 8, 2019 at 7:20 AM UTC
S I found myself on a sheer rock face of desperate desire.
H Holding on to her presence, in the danger of my devotion.
E But I lost my grip. I missed a step
and my heart skipped a beat.
E Then she was gone...
R And I was loose! Plunging, caught by a force of nature.
R White noise filled my ears and dread filled my heart.
O In a primal panic, a terrible cry shattered the blackened sky.
C Her face faded away and I was left reaching for a line --
K Trying to avoid the rocks below.
F I tried to find some way back up the mountain.
A I clutched for the breath in my lungs,
C The breath that was there before I fell;
E That moment skipped over,
F When I lost my grip and you were gone.
A I carry the pain inside, searching for release.
L But life goes on and on, day by day.
L Outside, I am quiet, I hold a steady gaze.
L But inside, the scars grind like metal on metal,
O Between a rock and a hard place,
V Until the edge within becomes razor cold.
E Like a steely blade inside a silken sheath,
H The knife buried beneath, poised to draw blood,
O When the balance is tipped, the pressure too much.
P Will I crash on jagged agony below or will I let go the dagger,
E To reclaim the climb? To reach again and find her face, aloft...
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 10:39 PM UTC
...
***I've got a few visitors tonight;
they're all associated with the wolf under my eyes***
I.
*I've left loneliness to starve on a stone table,
while jealousy can bleed me a lake;
fear and I are equals,
on the battlefield of fate.*
"Pay no mind to the rebel."
II.
*Forked tongues recite wickedness; of all
the shadows gaining power as the sun was slain.
Black flames banish all that is golden,
as darkness bent my silent skeleton;
but it didn't break.*
"I'm just some sin you committed...right?"
III.
*A basilisk waited for me at my chambers,
it requested a lullaby, and a glass of iron wine.
Who knew poison would be my new best friend?
Who knew my company would be kept by
an oracle of silver'tongue?
Dead languages clutched my
lively secrets.*
"Every wolf gets tired of the moon at some point."
IV.
*And just like that;
We were splintering at your wolfsong
auburn poems at the feet of trees
waist deep in misery you sat,
head crowned in autumn's diseases.
Witnessing you tilt your head to plant a kiss
on the night's wings;*
***"Oh, it's ******* agony."***
*Watching your eyes harvest hurricanes
love sinking in tongues
of ebony sorrow.
they don't belong to me
you don't belong to me.*
***"I suppose I can't change the world
but I will leave it colder."***
V.
*And sometimes, love is just the aftermath
of a tragedy.*
...
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 6:27 PM UTC
Night sets,
The sun falls.
Moon and stars become uncovered.
A pink faced child crawls under the covers.
A cardboard book is clutched in soft bands.
A f
d a
e r
r m
c b
u a
t r
e n
looks innocent and careless.
Mother hen, baby calf, wiggly pig,
their smiling faces send the child off to sleep.
That child remembers that story.
They remember the smiling faces of
mother hen, baby calf, wiggly pig.
That child is no long a child,
they no longer read that cardboard farm book.
They remember their childhood with that book,
they blur into one.
They see a barn just like the
f
d a
e r
r m
c b
u a
t r
e n
just like the picture in the cardboard farm book.
They stop to revisit their childhood,
they stop to revisit their innocence,
they stop to revisit those smiling faces.
f
d a
e r
r m
c b
u a
t r
e n
is only a step away,
that no longer child pushes open the sun warmed door.
They except innocence,
they except those smiling faces,
but they did not see what they expected.
The innocence of their childhood was a lie,
there are no smiling faces here.
This is not the
f
d a
e r
r m
c b
u a
t r
e n
from their cardboard book,
from their childhood,
they blurred into one.
Mother hen is not smiling,
her beak is cut off with a hot blade, she cannot move her wings in her cage,
her daughters are taken to live her fate,
her sons are ground alive to be feed to her,
mother hen is not smiling.
Baby calf is not smiling,
baby calf is just born,
then taken by a man in blood soaked boots,
baby calf watches helpless as their mother cries,
as their mother chews the metal bars,
as their mother fights the electric shocks.
Baby calf does not know their father,
neither does their mother.
Baby calf is put in a metal cage,
they will live a year or two,
baby calf will not move,
that is the point of veal.
Baby calf is not smiling.
Wiggly pig is not smiling,
wiggly pig can only wiggle,
only enough so her babies can drink her milk,
she cannot reach them though.
Wiggly pig will watch her babies grow,
but beyond what is natural,
beyond what their hearts can handle,
but there is a big demand for bacon.
Wiggly pig can see her babies hung from their hooves,
and slit open alive,
but wiggly pig can only wiggle.
Wiggly pig is not smiling.
That f
d a
e r
r m
c b
u a
t r
e n
is not as innocent as the cardboard farm book.
That farm in the book,
it was a lie,
but that cardboard farm book was their childhood right?
They blur into one.
Their childhood was a lie.
That no longer child lived a lie,
because power wanted them to only see the smiling faces,
they wanted them to believe that farm in the book
to be true,
not the lie that really is.
Power took away their innocence of childhood.
Power took away babies from their mothers.
Power took away my smile.
The f
d a
e r
r m
c b
u a
t r
e n
from my child no longer sends me off to sleep.
Instead it keeps me awake with the image of a farm,
not the farm in the cardboard book though,
a farm not filled with smiling animals,
a farm filled with cries, blood, sorrow, pain, horror, death.
A farm that is a lie.
Feb 11, 2012
Feb 11, 2012 at 10:00 PM UTC
You gave in to my courtship,
I cusped your face in my hands,
That was when we met in Amritsar,
I had clutched your cute fingers,
Nervous you seemed while smiling.
I can never forget that luckiest day,
Whatever anybody might bray,
Your eyes are truthful darling love,
I am very thankful to the dove,
Thankful to the dove of love.
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 2:22 AM UTC
i was wrenched from a bed
that was not my own to begin with.
into the sunlight, they dragged me,
hands yanking at my long hair.
i clutched my body.
jaw set, i silently vowed not to cry, to take it
like a woman should – to look them in the eye,
to stand unashamedly in front of my neighbors,
my mother, and my sisters. to stand in front of the town,
and face the inevitable.
the Pharisees threw me to the ground, gave a swift kick
to my side – gentle, compared with what would come.
the women, eyes glossed with icy detest, spat in my face.
*so the ***** has been caught*, they hissed.
But i refused to give them the satisfaction.
i wouldn’t close my eyes during it.
couldn’t.
Jesus, they barked, *we caught her sleeping
with a man she doesn’t belong to*.
you know what to do.
the little children and the rabbi and the mothers
and the sons, they felt the ground
for smooth, heavy rocks.
i bowed my head slightly, as fingers trembled over
new, prune-colored bruises
on my ribs, my stomach.
i unlocked my knees and lifted my chin,
met his eyes.
he paused for a moment, nodded his head slowly.
If you are without sin, please, cast the first stone.
i bit my lip, waited and watched,
squinting in the sunrise.
the Pharisees grumbled, the townspeople eyed me, but said
nothing, until they left, one
by one.
that Jesus, they mumbled,
He’s always finding loopholes.
Sep 29, 2010
Sep 29, 2010 at 4:56 PM UTC
Darkness seeps between my fingertips
Even when my hands are clutched to my face as tightly as I can when I am crying alone
Fingernails digging into my skin
To remind myself that it is real
Sleeves pulled over my fingertips
So no one is forced to see the hideous things
Especially me
The way a murderer's mother shuts her son's old bedroom door at night when he has been jailed
To shut out the memories
Concealing what is unpleasant
At night I don't wear makeup
So when I wake up at 2AM to use the washroom
I keep the lights off
And fumble blindly through the black air to find the door handle
So I don't have to look at myself
It's getting worse everyday
A new kind of pain
And I don't understand
Why it hurts so much
But I think I'm going to stop telling people about it
I'm going to stop mentioning it no matter how much it hurts
I'm going to stop being self-deprecating in public
Because it just comes across vain, self-pitying, annoying, attention-seeking and fake
I want people to stop telling me I'm pretty
I want them to stop lying to me
Even if it just to spare my feelings
So I will stop putting them in situations
Where they must lie to me to be polite
I'm just going to be silent now
They already have to know how ugly I am on the outside
No one needs to know
What an ugly mind I have
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 4:09 PM UTC
;fear
We felt it, with our hands pressed tightly against our child-chests.
Boom
Boom
Boom.
It sounded nothing like a heartbeat,
But explosions being let off in the distance.
And it smelt nothing like fear,
It smelt like sweat and dried ***** caked onto torn pajama pants.
We grew to know the insides of our mouths,
with our soft gums clutched between our teeth -
We learned that our voices were safer kept stowed away there.
We picked at their hands like we picked at our scabs,
Because pulling off healing skin,
felt like pulling off a rooted burn,
And prying off desperate fingers from off our bones,
Meant prying off something that terrified us.
This was our strength;
This was our paralysis.
We felt it, with our ears pushed against the door,
Please
Please
Please
It sounded nothing like a pleading mother
But warm air, creeping through vents with a sudden force.
And it smelt nothing like fear,
It smelt of fresh blood, kissing the lips of a weeping woman.
We worshipped knives like they worshiped our baby-soft skin,
Because cutting open ourselves meant cutting out what they left inside,
And watching the filth flee
down our wrists, down our knees,
Felt like draining water
Out of a clogged tub.
It felt nothing life fear
It smelt nothing like decay
It was a continual clutch of the knife against their throats
This one's for you, daddy
Feb 6, 2018
Feb 6, 2018 at 9:42 PM UTC
Island,a piece of land surrounded by water,
So are we when you actually sit and ponder.
Water is what surrounds that piece of land,
And thoughts are what surround us, vast expands.
Exotic, tropical and beautiful expanses they treasure,
Much like the beauty within us beyond measure.
Some discovered and mapped and yet others still untouched,
We too expose ourselves and some still remain in 'emselves clutched.
Surrounded by a tropical beach some are and others in a dense gloomy fog,
We put up so many appearances, all assumptions and views to clog.
A threat an outsider may pose to the paradise they hold within,
Laying a foundation of trust is what's required before explorations begin.
Every island is unique and beautiful in itself,
Every person is a limited edition model on life's shelf.
An opportunity to experience such beauty needs to be met with gratitude and respect,
Grateful one should be to experience such beauty and not heartlessly deject.
For an island once deemed ugly will set up a fortress of its own,
People will crawl into their shells never letting anyone in their private zone
Oct 24, 2015
Oct 24, 2015 at 4:15 AM UTC
I remember the jelly bean jar
perched next to the owlish librarian
in my school when I was younger.
One lucky soul would win a prize
for pulling the right number of jelly beans
out of an air still filled with fancy.
I can’t remember who won the prize,
and I can’t remember what the prize was.
But I guess as selfish minds are wont to do,
I remember the act of guessing.
It was a childhood of guessing,
and I wonder if any of those guesses were truly wrong?
When the engine of innocence toils away,
any solution, however fanciful,
can’t be false in a world that finds falsity
in far more veritable places.
I digress back to that jelly bean jar,
packed full of sugar,
and to a young mind,
full of promise.
To a mind such as mine,
a mind akin to my classmates
who shared my sugary desire for that jar,
any guess was as good as the other,
as long as any guess was your own.
We clutched ordinary pencils
scribbled on ordinary paper
with our own extraordinary numbers.
In the basket went these figures most accurate.
Days during the week passed
with those store brand jelly beans
mashed against each other,
childhood memories turned ordinary pages
wrote with ordinary pencils
until that singular, self-sure number
mashed against pages turned against it.
However strong that memory of numerology
in a room full of words is etched in my mind; no trace
of the end of the jellybean contest remains in my ledger.
No trace of the disappointment of losing out
on such a treasure trove of tooth decay.
But I guess this is the way of the mind,
it tends to trace out the positives
while it remains filled with youthful levity,
no weight is imbued in innocent minds,
and so tragedy, loss, and disappointment
float away past untroubled eyes.
But time rolls on and much like the crushed growth
under an ever-rolling stone,
our lives start to fall harder on softened memories.
Our lives harden with our heads,
and those days of living out short-lived fantasies
fade with jelly bean guesses.
So as we mature and feign to seek the truth,
a small part of me keeps a singular page earmarked
for a time when the truth no longer weighs
down the air with half-true deceit, and a mind long
abandoned
will return to grasp fanciful ideas
out of an air that’s still light enough
to evade our youthful fingertips.
Jul 26, 2012
Jul 26, 2012 at 5:34 PM UTC
He crouched in the corner,
Huddling up against his brother;
Who made him feel safe
From his mother.
Glass shattered, and the boy ran out,
To the other room where
His mother was found.
The blood and glass shards
Were everywhere;
He reached for a towel
To bear.
His hands clutched it against
Mommy's wound;
"More alcohol,"
Mommy crooned.
He relented finally,
Giving her the bottle;
By ruby blood,
The floor tiles were mottled.
Lights flashed outside the cabin,
As the ambulance arrived;
The little boy would never
Forget that night.
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 1:29 AM UTC
Young are our dead
Like babies they lie
The wombs they blest once
Not healed dry
And yet - too soon
Into each space
A cold earth falls
On colder face.
Quite still they lie
These fresh-cut reeds
Clutched in earth
Like winter seeds
But they will not bloom
When called by spring
To burst with leaf
And blossoming
They sleep on
In silent dust
As crosses rot
And helmets rust.
4.1k
by
rgpage
Now slipping from my quiet night
my captive mind in swirling motion.
From my cold and darkened room
with hollow days and lingering hours;
from this life i slip away.
And journey now i cross the seasons
time's own boundaries hold me not.
I course my way from winter's cold
past infant spring and summer's hot.
'Til on the sandy shores of fall
as in the past i gently land.
I cast my gaze out toward the west
across an endless stretch of waves,
and sit upon the sand.
An evening breeze now strokes my face
the autumn sun is on the wane,
and as it goes it takes the tide
as if its journey needs a friend
to stay it from life's friend less pain.
And like a harlot in the night
to keep me from life's friendless pain.
I strive to seek and hold her near ,
her softened shape clutched next to mine
to keep my lonely heart from fear.
Yes to her side i often journey
her calming presence soothes my mind,
her pulse the breakers on the sand;
the sand her softened skin;
the evening breeze, her scented hair;
with her a gentle peace i find...
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 9:01 PM UTC