"coalescence" poems
When two souls join as one, time stops.
As the lips meet for the first time time inner fire is stoked and the world blocked ftom the senses.
In that special moment, only those two souls exist.
Unfettered passion.
Love.
Aug 26, 2015
Aug 26, 2015 at 8:13 PM UTC
There in the closeness
A hairs breadth away seems a million light-years
The sweetest air fills lungs in hurried breaths
A quickened heartbeat drowns out the world
The mind twists and sways in thoughts that soon become a blur
Melded into emotion, into heat
And time stands still
Drawn like magnets to fill the gap
That electric blue spark lingers behind a gaze
Current runs high
Feeling the blood rushing through the smallest veins
Every cell electrified, every hair on end
The weakening of unwanted defenses
That moment the body and soul acquiesce
And time stands still
In the stroke of a cheek
The almost intangible sensation of gliding on smoke
Rising as the embers burn from within
And each breath fans the flames
Proximity feeds passion
As time stands still
The past, erased methodically, deliberately
For there is only this
This birthing of eternity
This moment when the tentative brushing of lips
Burns into soulful coalescence
This one reality
This moment
When time stands still
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 2:22 PM UTC
You wrote me like crib notes
on the inside of your heart,
my name inscribed on the walls,
my voice
a hush in the melody
of your heartbeat
and you painted memories
in the halls of your mind
like mosaics brushed in delicate colours
bearing the likeness of me
You whispered into the night breeze
in the softest of voices,
words I recognized from forever
yet knew I had never heard before
and the sound fell like rain
in a gentle mist upon my tongue,
and I breathed you in
on a wisp of moonlight
and felt your song
humming from within
And I carved your image
into the caves of eternity,
then slowly ran my fingers
over every curve,
committing every etching to memory,
and felt your ink seep into my veins
until your pulse beat in the pad of my thumb
and I pressed it,
soft, against nape of my neck,
closed my eyes,
and felt you fill my soul....
Oct 7, 2012
Oct 7, 2012 at 4:26 PM UTC
like some jealous future self,
my writer's clock balks at this moment with you,
i can't explain, so i give up listening. (i have an app for that)
the writing only stops as degustation ends ~
thank you, though ~ i'd like you to hear
regardless of the meanings lent ~
the gymnolexical fear
appearing ornamental far and near.
google files us away, omniscient
acumen of o's and ones ~
words sing to me their luring promise of a lasting hold,
but less and less
as plastic griming fingers sync
with what it seems to be,
a new world search-
-engine culling info freely
do i still believe in order?
striving for the fitted words,
a love imprinted input thus on crystal pixel page,
your effect on me distilled--
refracted throng associational
fantastic server metacomfort
for an audience
swimming past into this,
now always
ever-new you appear, bursting
at the seams my vision churning
...effluent sourcing, blurry self of others ~
heart-charming river-nymphs!
bolt-hurling sky-satyrs! reeling nations are subtended by your words
that walk, trod, swim across what poetry,
dance with this ever-blooming techne-earth
as i mark your plasmic eyes
we flow and let flow,
we dance our farmer's mud
into the beryl-winding paths
of othernets and cyberplay,
the restful ends reborn bright white
lacing lattice-scopic fibrous
scatters of another wi-fi interlife ~
we stream and let stream,
river-tress girl, your eyes summon
a great coalescence in me,
we dance into the channeled
delta of spring beauty here across the keyboard;
it cascades a slow attentive phosphene
striking pointed notes of color,
ring beneath and through the
green, sylvan silicon throw of mossy html
so that even rocks and sprawling
tree-trunks sing within the disembodied
vortexes of arrowed imagery to browse
my virtual belongings to you,
alone in your sorrow-joy fighting
free love in an all-world-breath
before the screen
Aug 1, 2012
Aug 1, 2012 at 11:40 PM UTC
There was a feeling that found me
in the midst of focus fading
a shimmering within the sun rays
caressing then worn-out skin
something of acceptance
similar to fulfillment
resembling a happiness &
transcending physicality
companionship in the lack of it
whole souls acknowledging
sorrows, the ebb and flow
of the highs and lows
there was for a moment a stillness
a lack of all movement that
cradled the imagery of
static serenity before me
and as they inevitably faded
there was some comfort in knowing
a part of me forever resides
in the clasp of such experience
A loneliness sought me out again
drunken stupor with tongue of silk
coerced me willfully along
one very treacherous road
tender hand willingly reached
for one poor in spirit
the shackles of melancholy breached-
shattered- from the force of soft caress
in spite of the distance that loomed
there was closeness that bloomed
under the silver moonlight
audible in approving sighs
coalescence of energy, vibrant
colors spreading outward from
a heart and mind once so sure
that they'll only ever see grey
time within a memory
crystallized
and a spark to the kindling
within cold eyes
new warmth circulating
soon to create
a fire to cleanse
frostbitten exterior
but the forces of
nature will *****
out ambitious
flame impartially
and the feeling of fire
fades away with
the smoke, the memory
already one with the weather
&
Now what finds me is the storm
in the rain slouches
the silhouette
of a comfort so
soon now forgotten
the wind howls a name familiar
it carries with it the scent of a nightmare
sensation dances with the
the sting of near frozen air
I find a feeling not so foreign now
dragging me farther
out into
the wilderness
processing humbling
surroundings
i'm now left in
solitary wonder
where have I wandered?
how will I weather impending storm?
if I am long lost in unforgiving cold
will it then
be too late
when warmth finds me once more?
Mar 12, 2016
Mar 12, 2016 at 3:56 PM UTC
Listen,
I wanna embrace a blanket of your sensuality.
I wanna abandon all rationality and create our own boundaries.
I wanna become in tuned with the vibrations of each other's souls.
Want you to climb so steeply within me that you can't find the way out of me.
See I don't wanna make love, I wanna create precious poetry.
While breathing the same rhythm.
You **** every stanza out of me.
Two pair of eyes undivided, two bodies ***** vigorous, exuding of familiarity.
Make a story out of me.
Feed it descriptions of true beauty.
Not shrewdly, but do it smoothly.
Let's co write a poem based on our union.
We can be a masterpiece.
Ink stains left in my bed sheets.
I'll lend you my body to use as a diary.
Release all frustrations as you lay your fervor out on me.
Send a chill of suspense intensely towards the inside of my thighs,
just where the margins would be.
Our minds are deadly.
Their correlation, deadlier.
We're writing words so compelling, while releasing showers from hearts too heavy.
Our poetry is nothing to compare to the regular.
Every inch of my body manifesting your touch readily.
I recede as you synchronize my private visions of a flawless fantasy.
Basking in this radiance as you guide your pen to an astonishing ******
Inducing my body to impasse in ecstasy.
Leaving me dripping with your artfulness.
As if announcing all expectations surpassed.
Drowning me in words that mirror ardor.
Each line so passionate,
I have no such memory of felicity that neither compares nor contrasts.
Every part of my skin left sensitive, tender, and fragile.
My body fluently floating, light as a feather.
Skin now designed and decorated with such puissant letters.
And God forbid we begin to forget the significance of our coalescence.
You can lay me down,
As you read it back to me.
This way, we can reminisce on the angelic medley.
Listen,
I don't just wanna make love,
I want our bodies to intertwine and invoke aesthetic poetry.
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 4:37 AM UTC
in this moment
our coalescence
as we become
intertwined
still separate
but joining together
again
all the time
Mar 11, 2021
Mar 11, 2021 at 4:34 PM UTC
perturbations of aliveness
animated sensual arousal
the world is full of beauty
bleeding colour into edges
the soul is on it's knees
in constant reverence
as the body postulates
with many varied stances
the heart's tide is roaring
with cryptic coalescence
symphonic sounds wave
from an unstruck core
swallowed in a resonance
undulating both ways
all ways,
always.
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 2:22 PM UTC
amaranthine horizon
tranquil mauve undertones
sombre coalescence
Apr 19, 2021
Apr 19, 2021 at 10:24 AM UTC
As it sit, here on peninsulas
extensions into oceans,
tides that drag, pixelating
parameters opening
to peering places,
my eyes squint
at blurred horizons;
everywhere horizoning,
circumferencing me
in swirls of cataleptic cinnamon
(you know, that pop cultured
coalescence of sensation)
And while I swim
through these streams and unconscious rivers,
on peninsulas (of dust)
placidly pouring soft summer rain
onto concrete souls like treacle on crumpets,
it occurs to me that
we are just madness becoming
into something astonishing
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 8:02 AM UTC
Can what is perceived or hypothesized
as conscious finality be conceived or experienced
in the present consciousness?
If not, then is conscious finality an illusion?
Can what is perceived or hypothesized
as the beginning of consciousness
be conceived or experienced in the present?
If not, is the beginning of consciousness an illusion?
Is there such a thing as conscious finality
at the cessation of perception?
Or instead of a cessation, is it a shift,
or a dissipation of consciousness
that we presently perceive
as a cessation of perception?
Is there such a thing as a beginning
at the start of perception?
Or is it a coalescence of consciousness
that we presently perceive as a beginning?
At which point,
wouldn't all beginnings and endings
be an illusion?
Or are they shifts in states of existence
outside the event horizon of our perception?
Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 12:22 PM UTC
Nowadays, when I see the ocean foam
slick the beach like a colossal latte,
when the autumn forests change
their primary colors playing leaf-frog,
when the jonquils fight up through
springtime snow-melt in defiant coalescence,
I remember that last day I saw you,
your *** swaying in those white shorts,
a mesmerizing metronomic heat in pants.
Ordinarily, I would not speak such things aloud,
but then, regret tends to amplify
walking empty streets at night
with only icy stares from stars to reprove me.
Eventually, I'll slumber beneath my satin comforter,
and dreams will dance like the aurora
at the foot of my half-empty bed.
It's then I'll see those legs again,
emerging from the white cotton shorts,
yet, no cosmic connection will bring
this vision to the woman haunting it.
Feb 23, 2012
Feb 23, 2012 at 8:52 PM UTC
Grind me to dust -
Go on do it;
I'm simply waiting for you to make the first move
-Amply,
your innate poignancy shatters my every statue and taboo;
So that I'm left to blossom again
Permeate me;
Or eliminate me,
Though I'd rather flourish with you than perish
Break down my walls,
Rip me apart;
As we stand arm in arm while I do the same
So place us in a mold,
Lets blend together
Mesh with me
We could synthesize;
Or divide
It's only a matter of time,
An eventuality
before we'd reamalgamate anyway
You're the math to my abstract;
So should you calculate or speculate?
- Or perpetuate while we vegetate?
Would you,
Could you
conquer the inevitable?
Could you,
Would you
ever endeavor?
You are the order to my chaos
We could burgeon in oblivion,
though I'd rather balance in harmony
It's black and white at the same time
Like cognitive dissonance
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 7:37 AM UTC
A plant begins to wither
its leaves fall to the ground
and it drops its seeds
To some this may look
in its entirety, like death
but to others it is birth
A seed's shell cracks
its insides come out
and everything changes
To some this may look
like complete destruction
but to others it is growth
Breathe in
Breathe out
Life is a coalescence of
the Surround into the Self
It is a turning outside in
Breathe out
Breathe in
Death is a dissolution of
the Self into the Surround
it is a turning inside out
happiness surrounds the
cries of the newborn
Breathe in
cries surround the
happiness of the dead
Breathe out
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 8:40 PM UTC
Harrowed by this most singular form, we are a
Coalescence of two
Pedals in cathedral stained glass windows
In glorious form
And resting on tables
Placed seemingly, unassumingly
Placed in insurmountable space
Seen by seers and filled by philosophers,
Nonetheless echoing through cavernous halls
Patterned textures of a Parisian tablecloth in my hand
While my other holds yours in its softness
Recusing sonneteers’ burdens,
Varied recollections of a ringing sound
Excusing intelligent ponderings,
Echoes of faltering and exaltation
With a kiss, we speak soundly
Amplifying what we’ve heard all our lives,
But its crimson is of our origination
To be heard once by us and hence,
Echoed to be heard throughout
Dec 28, 2012
Dec 28, 2012 at 10:11 PM UTC
Write with me a thing of beauty
For everyone to see
To gaze upon our very souls
Together, you and me
Words that dance upon the heart
Like a feather on the skin
Feelings painted honestly
In hues from deep within
Write with me a thing so lovely
That everyone will know
The purest of emotions
In two hearts at once betrothed
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 4:03 PM UTC
A salutation to the masterful pen of Cyd Guilfoyle
in her delving poem.....
**THE SOUL
After some time, there are no words spoken
only an awakening in the silence
of a blue light dawn, a moment
where stars linger on
a portal is found
where the soul
lives on
and on.**
To the Master......
A pristine coalescence from your talented pen.
Even for unbelievers there is an acknowledgement of the experience of moments of an incandescent splendour where comprehension and time stand still. Where an unprecedented clarity excludes all peripheral clutter and the complete exquisiteness of being shines brightly.
M.
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 3:12 PM UTC
(*i couldn't say more than enough, or
much at all. i am uncertain but
only ever-so-slightly and, overarching
paradigm, i'm happier than ever, even
if i'm still sad.*) we play
party to endless routines. bite our
own tails with startling frequency.
shudder or spark. most often both,
but most often meaning little, for
meaning is intrinsic, only where you
implant it. in patient hunt for
our exterior products, we numbered
blades, outside; hovering above and
without fields. writing the same
light motifs as always. nothing looks
like stars except stars, or sand, or
freckles in your eyes. everything
shines a little dimmer. something
about the way our hands brush
through stems. directed motions.
observable quantities. sentences
underpinning lifetimes. how does
one figure their actions or inaction
as anything but universal? how
does one decompose their patterns,
already found irreducible? from
either side, movements are local.
we reside in pure neighbourhoods.
all existence outside is asleep.
the hallways contract. water runs
from & over our skin.
shivered
and, as basis,
discovered this
world is just as dizzy. just in
new increments. not eating for days
sends you sick. eating for days
does likewise. broken down or
breaking down, we idle and
sleep and sometimes hope for
coalescence (or, at least, as far
as i can find). but, meadows, too,
still sleep, forests still sleep. all
alive is this room, or shadow,
or minute discharge radius. so, if
you aren't here or closer, how can
anything matter? asleep & passing
through city-light. tender ghost.
sweet summary. some days, even
i am discontinuous, but only for
passing swathes. field underfoot
& distance now mean little more
than nothing, and little less than
everything. and, as dual, i
could hardly forget. scale &
continue in each second. it is
cold & getting colder, and i've
figured out how to miss you,
already.
May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 7:55 AM UTC
A dream without effort is just wishful thinking. Sure, the first step starts in the mind, but action is the true driving force in manifesting your desired reality. The devotion to staying consistent doesn't come easy, your determination will be tested every step of the way. What you draw from your failures will depict either your rise or your fall. Adversity is all apart of the path. Appreciation for the beauty of the destination is realized in the ugliest parts of the journey. Learn to embrace the harshness of the trek the same way you revel in the glory of the summit.
Oct 5, 2024
Oct 5, 2024 at 6:44 PM UTC
when i was young
i never intended on living to adulthood
i didn't have any dramatic plans for my death
but i hadn't planned for the contrary, either
and so
time rolled on, the way it does
and through pure neglect
i found myself here
alive today
and the years keep passing, the way they do
time's funny that way:
it increments in loops;
another year forward,
another revolution of the same.
when i was younger
i didn't believe in the future,
i still don't, but now i find,
that the present tends to stick around.
and one's seeming imperative thoughts and actions,
one's urgent sparks of actuality,
aren't flames of some eternal logos,
but are more
the random shower of a Catherine wheel
spinning aimlessly on a pike
and so, through sheer inertia
the world keeps on turning
and you with it
till one day
you stop
and are left
disorientated and thrown
into a wall
i'm not sure what i'm trying to say here,
or if this maudlin sentimentality amounts to much
but if i had any truism
from my time spent,
it would be this:
the self is a clear plate of glass
onto which meaning condenses like steam
at first invisible to yourself,
you become aware of your shape through
the foggy coalescence of the things you cherish.
but sometimes,
those meanings become too much to bear
and they condense
into a liquid
and silently drip off.
then
maybe you wait,
slowly drying out,
for the process to hopefully start all over again
but in the mean time
you're left there,
gently and vacantly
estranged
translucent
and damp
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 9:22 AM UTC
infinitesimal shards of glass
glisten fiercely underneath neon lights of prospect
a reflection of shattered hopes and aspirations
now lay asunder for being trodden to dust
carpeting over splashes of blood long gone brown
a silver ring or two coated in red
pearls scattered like a life torn to shreds
rag-like bedsheets torn at the seams
as if the fabric of reality was chewed by cruel Fate
emptiness echoing through the debris of humanity;
with a room torn of its plaster wallpaper
paint chipping off like rain
the conconcrete within never looked so ugly as now
hideous and disformed
by weathering the storm of conflicting ideals and isms
numerous cracks snake through concrete body
at any moment ready to crumble to naught.
can anyone fathom what wonders gave birth within these walls?
first loves promised in wedlock,
difficult loves resolved clemently,
impossible loves grew to become the greatest,
broken loves coalescence to wholeness,
platonic loves strengthen for lifetimes,
familial loves strung back once more.
Tis was the Rose Room of Ethereal Wonders
that harmonized the tragedies of humans
unfortunately even the worst of chaos is meant to remain unbridled
of which to leave asunder is better
or else You’ll just be a soul sacrified in vain
Jun 20, 2018
Jun 20, 2018 at 2:04 AM UTC
Slit the veins of truth,
see all of our ugliness
spill from this society.
That stole my youth,
as darkness hit my eyes
with fear and anxiety.
Please end all of this grief
and let's show loveliness,
maybe live in coalescence.
Our lives are rather brief
so can't we all be allies,
Isn't love life's essence?
Jun 5, 2020
Jun 5, 2020 at 3:54 PM UTC
Before we were born, the earth was ravaged
Then came man, a proud desperate savage
And all that was good, he came to disparage
For the earth and man formed an unhealthy marriage.
We spend our whole lives in search of bliss,
But there is no jinn who can grant this wish
And its in this search that our purpose is missed
We stab one another with knives made by the Swiss.
They order the crowds, to cease and desist
For if they do not they will cease exist
Gas and metal slugs bring forth the red mist
Knuckles are shattered as batons connect with the fist.
Man embraces fear in response to innovation,
Beating down thinkers into deepest degradation
Unable to stomach these new variations,
He herds himself like cattle into old formations.
Evil inspiration born from futility
Laying aside all thoughts of humility,
Manufactured our own creative sterility
Crushing ideas in the name of stability.
Yet the from the rubble of all we despise,
When many are dead, and the stars are aligned
Will our species awaken, stumble and rise?
Look up to the cosmos and then our open our eyes.
Not to God but to our own coalescence
Or will we choose to embrace our own evanescence?
We expect truth to emerge from the heavens,
But only through virtue can we hope to find essence.
Jul 17, 2010
Jul 17, 2010 at 7:44 AM UTC