"cocooning" poems
DEDICATED TO OVI
*I see your words and I see peace
I read your lines and I find bliss
You mesmerize us with your poignant thoughts
Like rain that drops on the window pane*
WHEN MIDNIGHT FLOWS
Like lilies that turn and turn and swirl
Like the bird SPARROW
Cocooning the earth
*You tell your tells like a Movie
Your poems are like splendour falls
With words interwoven and intertwined like peace
Like rainbows that knit the sky
Like when the cloud bursts and cry
Releasing her emotions as rainfall*
ENCASED IN GLORY AS THE MOON
YOUR POEMS MESMERISES US
*your lines ENCHANT us
You bring ethereal joy to this land of poetry
Filled with sadness and pain
Where every poet
Where every writer
Where every reader
Run into
Seeking for refuge
Seeking for that
Bliss
And like*
**THE STARS GUIDING THE MOON
IN COSMIC YONDER**
*your words shine down
Invading our deepest pain
Releasing our anger and anguish
You shine down on us
You light our paths in this den
And for those who do not like you
I say they like to be*
SHROUDED
*In darkness
But still
Shine*
OVI
*shine
Shine bright the way you are*
**You
Are a STAR
Shine bright through your words
SHINE OVI SHINE**
JUST FOR OVI ODIETE
Jul 23, 2016
Jul 23, 2016 at 10:28 AM UTC
Cold, soft, dusting skies,
Sweep away the gentle night.
Rich violet brings promises of the dawn-
Glittering stars grow quiet-then are gone.
The lulling whisper of the sand
Silences itself, once again.
Lays dormant and muted at your feet,
Voices submitting to enveloping sleep.
Soon the sun will scream it's rise,
And blaze relentless across empty skies,
Beat down upon empty land;
Beat down upon empty man.
And I'll wait patient-I'll wait for dark ,
Wait for the noise of day to depart-
And in its wake the cocooning reprieve,
Of the endless, satin star-lit sea.
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 4:43 PM UTC
With sensuous cords suspended
between heaven and earth,
A nylon hammock generously supports
all, races, colors and creeds.
Guilty pleasures are carefully balanced
during a rendezvous of
stolen moments and secret escapes.
Ideas are born
in this cocooning nexus, and
work is accomplished from
a place of succor and rest.
A gentle swaying
calms the mind and
brings life into balance once more.
Aug 20, 2010
Aug 20, 2010 at 12:05 PM UTC
I'd give you
My stomach,
just to show you the caterpillars cocooning
into butterflies.
I'd give you
My heart,
just to show you how it stops
every time you smile.
I'd give you
all the moments I could hold in my arms,
Just so you could see frame by frame
how you have frozen every one of them.
And you might think that I am giving you
everything.
You are humble like that.
but you have given me
lengths of golden twine that you have
strung around my heart.
Making sure that everyday that I fall for you,
you can pull me back up
again
and again
and again.
You don't just pull on my heart strings,
you made them.
And when you cry it's like
rain on the wedding day,
that marries you and perfection together.
I could be your umbrella,
You could be my dream.
Because I have watched "Tangled"
way too many times.
And I don't want you to find a new dream.
I don't want you to scale a tower with my hair.
...although something similar would be nice.
But make us a fairytale.
One which makes little kids want to dress up
like us on Halloween.
Let me be your forever.
A fairytale about the girl who gave everything,
even the bones in her fingers.
To write about true love, about the one who gave,
everything in return.
Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 4:46 PM UTC
He knows what lies below.
This is where it all began: here
Beneath the bubbling sludge and ******* mud.
This is the home brew, the cocooning grounds.
His sturdy boots trudge through,
Hefting questions and glasses askew.
Somewhere to the side a fat swamp prince
Composes bog rhymes in ribbit meter.
Each squelching step sets a buzzing bunch
Of crystal dragons zipping away to
Slick peridot pontoons. A loon swoons
The expeditioner with a sobbing cry. He
Has said goodbye to reservations, to the
Long-dead preservation rights. He slogs through
The buzzing night. Yellow daggers clench
Between scaly steeltrap snappers and stones
With eyes blink in languid surprise, unnoticed.
He is lost, dying, unsure of his quest. He needs a
Cure. He knows it lies here, in the beginning place.
Their faces haunt his deathly guts and crush
His straining heart with need - need for the solution.
Need to survive, to prolong his life - alone!
So alone: the last. If only he could rest.
His nostrils quiver with the homesick stench
Of tails becoming legs and nipping lips sprouting
Sticky tongues. The answer, he is here for the
Only answer. Something below, below, down
In the dredges of history - in the slime of
Centuries, rotless and preserved. He will find it:
Some link, some closer thing he can revive
And test and rest as bedrock for his life.
A foot sticks in the overfriendly tar. No,
He will not pause. He has come too far.
In the birthing grime, some hungry memory wakes.
It knows what lies above, it thirsts to cease it.
It reaches, roils, pulls, rips with smelly squish-fingers -
Thirsting and thirsting to slake. It longs to reveal
To show, to make known to the traveler.
(All he has searched for is found here, it knows,
Organized and close. Held and safe below)
It reaches, grabs - thirsty - presses him into
A false step. A slip. A skritching clipboard
Of statistics curses in rustling indignance
As it flutters to the mud above a splattered head.
Science-frozen lungs fill with dread -
With life-giving peat. (It will show him) He ***** in
And burbles out a scream. (what he wants, show him)
This is where it begins, (this is his dream!) where it ends.
Now he knows what lies below. He lies - curled -
Quenched from growth. The eyes of unnoticed
Stones blink in surprise. Soaring swamp lyrics
Rise, a loon swoons with a sobbing cry.
He curls in peace and drifts alone
Now he knows what lies below.
Sep 30, 2010
Sep 30, 2010 at 7:10 PM UTC
They call you MY ******
I have a mother; my mother
A sister; may be a daughter
Or a son.
My father, my brother, my friend, my classmate, my lover
My people.
Where do you figure?
Yet they say you are mine.
Mine.
Their impassioned pleas
Echo in courtrooms, in police stations,
On stark black letters staring out of newspapers;
Crisp saris and well-fitted suits, their accented comments
Drenched in arrogance, tumbling out of flat-screen television sets;
Smug families discussing me (and you) in bright living rooms
With unblemished walls bearing paintings of enigmatic women.
They all say
You are MY ******
I can see you.
I can see you glowing with pride.
Feel the shroud of admiring glances
Cocooning you wherever you go.
For every sigh of cuss, there are a hundred
Congratulatory nods.
They giggle
As you hold my mangled soul
Up above your head,
Like the tattered flag of an enemy country.
Why, you have silenced another of those
Who dared to rear her sad, ugly head.
Or a happy, pretty one.
What difference does it make?
You never saw
My eyes
Eyes screaming out loud, and going dry
Wide open, yet blind.
You didn’t feel
Tired, shapeless lumps of my being watching us
As my body stopped being mine,
But an amalgam of ******* ****** and a
Deep long scar across eternity.
While I no longer have a name,
You possess one more: ‘My ******
Oh yes, I invited it upon myself
I have chosen it,
I have chosen YOU.
It was predestined. A given.
Since the time I was born.
So you might as well be mine.
My ******
Jan 5, 2016
Jan 5, 2016 at 11:04 AM UTC
Wittled stuck One
to Coyote Dingus
wind talks money all day and night
from all directions
but am allowed only to listen
Emotional cocooning
addictive sweet synth sup
as ready as can be
Reshaping wounded amazons
Is no easy task.
Thank you.
Now please pull your head out
before we all starve to death
from this confusing lack of true love
a swan, perhaps?
no, a turtle, one of nine
i see
Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 1:34 PM UTC
So many feelings comes surging
Breaking all the inhibitions
Every word cocooning those moments
Each of them a luminous sparkle of the soul
Flowing through the veins
Reminding you of the special moments
Waiting to be chronicled as a memoir
Taking up the pen
Connecting your soul with the paper
Every drop of ink carrying your inner world
Drawing a vivid sketch of your feelings
Wholeheartedly soaked in the ambiance
The white paper now colored with memories
Once staring at the blankness
You can see the words dancing to your tune
Pen moves like a magic wand
As you breathe life on the paper
With those precious feelings
Swathing it with your inner luminosity
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 2:54 PM UTC
04:14 and the shadows are long
A boy pressed into a rail-side bench
Raises his arms to shelter himself
From the cloudless sky
He ticks off seconds with the twitch of his left knee
And the jump of his unhinging jaw
He falls
He falls nowhere
But flat, back, motionless in his seat
Hands cocooning head like a heavy day’s work
And then digging up and pressing down
Trying to rid himself of the sounds
Which splice him like glass shards
Or screaming shrapnel
And mutilate
His view of a pretty English station
And a blue steam engine
Beaming like the moon for which it was named
04:18 and he sets himself straight
Like ***** shoelaces
Or cards on the mantelpiece
Winds a bit of string
Around his wedding finger
And croons
As a man inside a toddler
Re-wired refrains
Lick his lips like soup stains
*Pack up your troubles…
Long way to Tipperary…
In your old kit bag…
I wonder who’s…
My heart’s right there…
Kissing her now…
Smile, smile, smile…*
And from my compartment
I watch him fade like
An ink blot from a pillow case
While a boy who looks a lot like him
Turns with purposeful avoidance
And takes the opposite view
Of a pretty English station
He soothes the angry creases
Of his forehead
Of his uniform
And smiles
Smiles
Smiles
And mutters to himself
And they said it would be over by Christmas
04:14 and the shadows are long
A boy pressed into a rail-side bench
Jogs his knees
With the obligatory poppy
His mum pushed into the zip of his winter coat
Drooping like a hangnail
He is busied and hassled
By the phone in his palm
It plays an odd kind of game
Where those who die
Are allowed to come back
And press Retry
Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 11:23 AM UTC
Drop all inhibitions
Let your imaginations fly
Unchain from doubt
That makes you stationary
Soul is all pervasive
And let it be your guide
Venturing new avenues
Take the boulevard to freedom
When you will meet yourself
To reveal and expose the truth
When, the null will surround you
Cocooning you into the infinite
Forever, bliss will kiss your soul
© Amitav (Radiance)
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 2:08 PM UTC
early morning,
with
cup of kenyan blend.
i step outside,
to meet my day.
all soft,
misty drizzle.
cocooning the view,
to the koi pond
and slick driveway.
stepping stones,
are
soft wet coins
on greenback lawn.
dewed and glistening new.
the last
of the snapdragons,
weep in bright tears
of beauty.
the portulaci
have closed their
faces to the world,
to await the
returning sun.
in the pond,
the koi swim,
and glide
like solar flashes
caught while bathing.
bright moving wonder
on the colourless day
and as i watch
the surface becomes
hypnotic as water drops
create ring,bisecting
ring, bisecting ring.
concentricity,
most exquisite.
the smell of jasmine
eucalypt and coffee
mix and mingle with
exhaust and salted iodine.
sound is muted.
birds, whisper this morning.
even the kookaburras call,
in stuttering short chuckles.
the sea, so close, is but a murmur, a chinese whisper
on the frail wind.
the small grey cat,
comes to sit with me
nose, aquiver,
ears swiveling
to and fro.
a pause before,
harrumphing
and stalking
back into the
dry, cosy, warmth.
i soon follow....
leaving the day,
to it's softness.
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 7:33 PM UTC
Inspire me,
I beg you.
It's been almost over a year now,
That I have lain in bed,
Cocooning myself
Away from the outside world.
And in my little inside life,
With my inside brain
and body
and voice;
I have lost all I used to be able to say,
and do
and feel.
I wish to be inspired.
I've been dulled down.
I used to be sad,
So I accepted their pills
And I am not so sad anymore,
But I'm so dull,
I do not feel
I do not desire
I am not inspired.
God I miss it all.
So please,
Inspire me,
And tempt me out
Of my inside cocoon.
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 12:26 AM UTC
The fortunate I,
The send-sighted me,
What might have I done
To deserve this to see?
That inchworm in paining,
Though pretty she was,
Has set to cocooning,
In endless becomes.
Such books, she has heavy,
Her heart so it spins,
That silken word cover,
With lux-journal skeins.
Such passion in weaving,
She'll fuel open minds,
And full will this artist,
Soon her medium find.
Oct 2, 2010
Oct 2, 2010 at 10:42 PM UTC
*Idling away is inspiring
Mind wandering afar
Supine on the soft grass
Every tuft cradling me
Becoming a mediator
Between the sky and Earth
Earth holding me firm
Sky is the vast canvas of my dreams
Flying high with the winds
Watching the birds fly
Flapping their wings in coordination
Mediating my earthly dreams
With the celestial sphere
Cocooning my simple dreams
Idling away makes me happy*
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 10:11 AM UTC
in silence I stand
unadorned, but,
awakened in a
demure frame of
mind
thoughts color
my cheeks, hues
paint my soul;
as I stand alone
unembellished
purity trickles
upon reddened
cheeks; chastity
leaves me clothed
and untainted as I
smile upon life
sensuality of me
blossoms in tinted
arrays; as sunlight
bounces off the
prism of mind
yet, still unpainted
upon life's canvas
tentatively, I blink
eying my reflection
in the mirror; devoid
of a painted mask
cocooning my essence
as I evolve into
a white butterfly
finding myself
unpainted in familiar
surroundings; barefaced
but, acknowledging
true colors; strength,
faith, decorum, self-esteem,
respect and confidence
unpainted like my canvas;
but, evident in all that I do
hung upon the wall of
an internal gallery;
posing in full glory
poised royally, in an
unpainted portrait
portraying me
elegantly
Jun 12, 2012
Jun 12, 2012 at 2:50 AM UTC
Dance to the tune of the soul
The music, no holds barred
The rhythm of the heart
With a pulse on the moment
Pulsating bodies entwined
Slither in unison; moments frozen
Time takes a backseat
All illusions shattered, only pure emotions
Delving deeper, to the warmth
Cocooning each other in tight embrace
The arms exploring and encompassing
Till the hearts beat in same rhythm
Finally, the moment of truth
© Amitav
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 6:35 AM UTC
Bohemian hands wave through the heat
This thick sultry slice of air
Hangs heavy, so heavy
In the night, on my skin
Dancing, perfumed by salt
Moving fluidly to the beat
My own happiness cocooning-
My limber limbs in confidence
Feb 6, 2011
Feb 6, 2011 at 5:34 PM UTC
Murmurs of French
must have blanketed the great–
cocooning 'round Salinger,
lilting for Whitman–
flitting by Carroll and
flirting with Eliot,
sighing on Plato,
marching in Chaucer,
nuzzling up Dickinson,
lying with Hemingway,
giggling to Alcott and
gasping at Plath.
Murmurs of French
must have borne their babe souls,
gifting them music
instead of dry words.
Murmurs of French,
the language of beauty,
just buzz past my ears
'fore I swat them away.
It is fitting, I think,
that my tongue should collapse
upon trying merci
or a bon appétit,
and the lone French I can muster
is notably stolen
from the notoriety of
a Madame Marmalade.
Jul 23, 2011
Jul 23, 2011 at 8:22 AM UTC
On the train track walls
across from my house
there are symmetrical black letters.
Evolve Today.
I don’t know what to feel
when I see them.
Don’t know if I should admire
the way they suckle to the wall
like papered monarchs.
Watch as my hands flutter
at each letter.
I wish I could be like him.
I picture him cutting each letter
with an exacto knife.
Drawing every line and crevice,
Evolve Today.
Smiling at his new art like
it means something different.
Each time I see the letters
I stare at the wall,
picture his hooded head,
his butterfly hands
they are steady as he paints.
My hands are always shaking.
On Friday he parks the car in an alley.
Hoods his head,
grabs a can of spray paint.
Evolve Today.
I look down and notice
how my leg is convulsing,
watch as he dances across pavement
coats a dumpster in his art.
My head is turning,
twitching up and down
like spray paint.
I cannot help but think of the consequences.
He gets in the car
tells me it feels good.
I look at the winged paint
on his hands.
Evolve Today.
All I see is evidence.
I sit there wishing I could
hold a can of paint and keep steady.
I sit there wishing that my legs
would stop twitching,
my arms would stop shaking,
my mind would stop cocooning,
that for once I could butterfly like him.
On Monday I go back to school.
Sit in class and think
of his hooded head,
his spread arms,
his steady letters.
I grab a pen out of my bag,
Evolve Today.
Half of a butterfly
papered to the desk.
©DelaneyMiller
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 9:32 PM UTC
It's a melancholy kind of midnight as I sit here chasing dreams,
Whiling away the hours with my well-worn reveries.
Cocooning myself in a blanket of whimsy as the moonlight gleams,
I melt into a world where I am welcomed heartily.
Jan 13, 2010
Jan 13, 2010 at 12:41 PM UTC
There we lay,
under a blanket of darkness.
Both of us afraid of things left unsaid.
The moment stretched on,
enveloping us,
cocooning us.
Gathering my courage, I softly whispered what my heart knew
but my head had not yet realized.
And through the darkness you erased my fear.
In your answer I found my peace.
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 12:06 PM UTC
Eyes opening in the morning twilight
Nautical dispersion, sounds of high tide
Rough spun cotton cocooning naked bodies
The taste of ***** on your tongue
Eyes in the morning
like hammocks on Culebra, swaying in breeze
Eyes in the evening
Like cut rope belts, simple & kind
The sand in our toes a microcosm within a macrocosm
The wind in your hair like notes of music to my ears
Embrace me, my love
my heart flys away
like sparrows
in the morning
Somehow found each other, our other half
Shells in the sand to a passerby
Patterns in a cloud like eyes staring towards blind stars
Feel of graphite disintegrating into words on paper
Backwash of proletariat diaspora, like my corazon
Emptiness suddenly filled with affection
Can a dead soul absorb such life?
Like the ocean you touch all my shores
Like waves, mingle my soil with your salt
Three words: I love you.
Jul 2, 2016
Jul 2, 2016 at 8:40 PM UTC
Sweet hymns of nightingales
awaken this soul; pollinating it
into full bloom. Nectar melts the
wax walls, the rush of the mystic
river baptises the ancient soul,
extinguishing flames into sodden ashes.
Spying trees whisper with the wind.
The soul emits an ethereal glow,
like jewelled constellations
forming a carousel in the night sky.
The scent of almond flower evokes
lingering memories in the transparent air.
The revived soul spreads its wings,
at twilight breaking the bond between its companion as it bids farewell to the
earthly world and embraces the
heavens cocooning it's being.
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 8:18 AM UTC
Cracked teeth from trampoline pills
Electric Kool aid mousetrapped into my air
*** holes in my mind jostling my sparkling flaws
My skin expels spores into the gap of my consciousnesses
Jar of ancient street fumes cocooning the stains of my past
Oct 11, 2015
Oct 11, 2015 at 1:19 AM UTC
the night runs beside me
her cat-like eyes occasionally lighting up
a hidden stone in my path
but mostly cocooning me, letting me
stay blind in her comforting dark
*it's what she's best at, anyways
loving me blindly*
the roads thrum beside me
lulling me to sleep with stories of
travelers on the highways, of
discovery and treachery that lurks unsuspected
the night and her children try so hard
to draw me over to the other side with
their gentle seduction
but me,
I need to have my ear pressed against your chest
lips making love to yours
the steady thumping of your heart
my cold body enveloped by your heat
and the sheer knowledge that
you
are
with
me
*near
me*
to be able to
sleep.
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 2:38 PM UTC