"coiled" poems
Terrifying are the attent sleek thrushes on the lawn,
More coiled steel than living - a poised
Dark deadly eye, those delicate legs
Triggered to stirrings beyond sense - with a start, a bounce,
a stab
Overtake the instant and drag out some writhing thing.
No indolent procrastinations and no yawning states,
No sighs or head-scratchings. Nothing but bounce and stab
And a ravening second.
Is it their single-mind-sized skulls, or a trained
Body, or genius, or a nestful of brats
Gives their days this bullet and automatic
Purpose? Mozart's brain had it, and the shark's mouth
That hungers down the blood-smell even to a leak of its own
Side and devouring of itself: efficiency which
Strikes too streamlined for any doubt to pluck at it
Or obstruction deflect.
With a man it is otherwise. Heroisms on horseback,
Outstripping his desk-diary at a broad desk,
Carving at a tiny ivory ornament
For years: his act worships itself - while for him,
Though he bends to be blent in the prayer, how loud and
above what
Furious spaces of fire do the distracting devils
**** and hosannah, under what wilderness
Of black silent waters weep.
41.2k
Moon marked and touched by sun
my magic is unwritten
but when the sea turns back
it will leave my shape behind.
I seek no favor
untouched by blood
unrelenting as the curse of love
permanent as my errors
or my pride
I do not mix
love with pity
nor hate with scorn
and if you would know me
where the restless oceans pound.
I do not dwell
within my birth nor my divinities
who am ageless and half-grown
and still seeking
my sisters
witches in Dahomey
wear me inside their coiled cloths
as our mother did
mourning.
I have been woman
for a long time
beware my smile
I am treacherous with old magic
and the noon's new fury
with all your wide futures
promised
I am
woman
and not white.
21.1k
Paris;this April sunset completely utters
utters serenely silently a cathedral
before whose upward lean magnificent face
the streets turn young with rain,
spiral acres of bloated rose
coiled within cobalt miles of sky
yield to and heed
the mauve
of twilight(who slenderly descends,
daintily carrying in her eyes the dangerous first stars)
people move love hurry in a gently
arriving gloom and
see!(the new moon
fills abruptly with sudden silver
these torn pockets of lame and begging colour)while
there and here the lithe indolent **********
Night,argues
with certain houses
18.6k
We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.
Love arrives
and in its train come ecstasies
old memories of pleasure
ancient histories of pain.
Yet if we are bold,
love strikes away the chains of fear
from our souls.
We are weaned from our timidity
In the flush of love's light
we dare be brave
And suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be.
Yet it is only love
which sets us free.
10.8k
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This poem is self translated version of my Hindi language poem titled "शिव स्वरूपं" published in pratilipi on (Dec. 2017) Can be read through the link ==>> https://bit.ly/2P4j7vE
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
That face of Lord Shiva is most beautiful in which he holds Ganga in his hairs
The Moon feels blessed by beautifying the head of Shiva as a glittering crown
The Serpants also became jewellery by themselves and decorated his blue neck
Shiva holds the trident on one hand and plays the Damroo from the other one
He has seated himself on a mat of Tiger Skin and rubbed pyre ash on his body
He has left elephant and the horses and decided to travel on an old Bull Nandi
By such an amazing face form, he is always ready for the welfare of devotees
The cruel and wicked have always been afraid of his eldritch face and form.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Shiva (See Line 1): A God (The Destroyer) in Hindu Mythology
Ganga (See Line 1): The Holy river whose flow and speed is controlled by the coiled hairs (Jatas) of Lord Shiiva
Damroo(See Line 4): A sort of musical instrument ( Pellet Drum )
Nandi((See Line 6)): A bull in Indian mythology who is the vehicle of Lord Shiva
Aug 18, 2019
Aug 18, 2019 at 4:55 AM UTC
Pearl Avenue runs past the high-school lot,
Bends with the trolley tracks, and stops, cut off
Before it has a chance to go two blocks,
At Colonel McComsky Plaza. Berth's Garage
Is on the corner facing west, and there,
Most days, you'll find Flick Webb, who helps Berth out.
Flick stands tall among the idiot pumps-
Five on a side, the old bubble-head style,
Their rubber elbows hanging loose and low.
One's nostrils are two S's, and his eyes
An E and O. And one is squat, without
A head at all-more of a football type.
Once Flick played for the high-school team, the Wizards.
He was good: in fact, the best. In '46
He bucketed three hundred ninety points,
A county record still. The ball loved Flick.
I saw him rack up thirty-eight or forty
In one home game. His hands were like wild birds.
He never learned a trade, he just sells gas,
Checks oil, and changes flats. Once in a while,
As a gag, he dribbles an inner tube,
But most of us remember anyway.
His hands are fine and nervous on the lug wrench.
It makes no difference to the lug wrench, though.
Off work, he hangs around Mae's Luncheonette.
Grease-gray and kind of coiled, he plays pinball,
Smokes those thin cigars, nurses lemon phosphates.
Flick seldom says a word to Mae, just nods
Beyond her face toward bright applauding tiers
Of Necco Wafers, Nibs, and Juju Beads.
8.4k
Its been a while, since I, seen that smile; that **** style, that turn me on, you're such a trip. I love how you keep it hip; ******* my favorite color- your Thursday pick. From your text, you seem stressed, might have to do it a little longer. Been working out, so I'm a little bit stronger- hold your legs back, shoulder press:I hope I'm making you wonder. Hands, coiled around your legs; up. Under your dress, hands slowly progress- it hurts now, the seconds seem longer; you feel blessed. You slipped, so I slide in; like it was meant to happen.
My hand griping your hips, pulling you in, a tight fit: harder- already told you I was stronger, now your feeling it. So professional when you came; now you leaving a mess. I flipped the script.
Black ******* with white spots all over your dress- blaming me for your mess. Now I'm cumming; ready or not. Your *** up, stomach in knots, my kingdom *** our foreplay, can foreshadow my plot- give you a life sentence, that will make ****** on the dot. All our issues, disappear; like you're straight flush- red all in the face; light touch: 2 ours later; such a rush.
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 3:01 PM UTC
Its been a while, since I've, seen that smile; that **** style, it turns me on, you're such a trip. I love how you keep it hip; ******* red, my favorite color- your Thursday pick.
I'm plotting- giving you a life sentence, making you ****** on the dot, then we pick another spot, and take it from the top. All our issues, disappear; when your clothes drop. You are, straight flushed-- red in the face; from a light touch.
From your text, you seem stressed, we might have to do it a little longer. Been working out, so I'm a little bit stronger- holding your legs back, shoulders pressed: I hope I'm, making you wonder. Hands, coiled around your legs; up. Under your dress, hands slowly progress- it hurts now, but you will love the rest.
My hand griping your hips, pulling you in, a tight fit: Thicker, longer, harder- already told you I was stronger, now your feeling it, more than just the tip. Acting so professional when you came; and left a mess when I flipped the script.
Red ******* with white spots all over your dress- blaming me for your mess. Now I'm ******* ready or not. Your *** up, stomach in knots, my kingdom *** with our foreplay. You've been foreshadowing all day, enjoying each other as we play. The rush alone, it enough to make me stay
Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 9:28 AM UTC
Love is a thousand women who fail to amount to one,
Peasant seductress with bared shoulders of red dun-colored roads and candle smoke,
Who pours down her wet, ungoverned hair, like a fast-fading storm to dry over Aurelian walls,
In that dark sneer of sultriness over the sentry-like stillness of ramparts and stone,
A wasp in water whose sibilance comes from what the sting makes,
Like the upgathered phalanx of spears in the sand,
Or the sisters of fate who have coiled their hair as sunset snakes,
Her fingertips ***** into me like much-traveled and ancient rain.
Apr 23, 2023
Apr 23, 2023 at 11:03 PM UTC
The woman is perfected
Her dead
Body wears the smile of accomplishment,
The illusion of a Greek necessity
Flows in the scrolls of her toga,
Her bare
Feet seem to be saying:
We have come so far, it is over.
Each dead child coiled, a white serpent,
One at each little
Pitcher of milk, now empty
She has folded
Them back into her body as petals
Of a rose close when the garden
Stiffens and odors bleed
From the sweet, deep throats of the night flower.
The moon has nothing to be sad about,
Staring from her hood of bone.
She is used to this sort of thing.
Her blacks crackle and drag.
6.4k
Lurking in the shadows
Street lights not touching your face
Hood up
Knife gripped tight
As you stalk her every move
Like a snake
Slithering into position
Coiled and ready to strike
Aiming for the purse
Willing to take more
You stalked her for weeks
Watching her walk
Her daily routine
Learning how many steps
She makes a day
As your moment draws near
Adrenaline rushing
Stalking her for this moment
To **** and **** her
Just because she broke your heart
You creep closer
Closer and closer
Not wanting to do this
But if you can't have her
No one shall
Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 8:49 PM UTC
I observe you, infatuated with your subtle mysticism.
My eyes lay on your verdant beds like a swallow tail butterfly
dancing to the melody of your vibrations.
I feel you breathe with me.
I admire your crystal garden,
dripping down your coiled vines.
In each leaf, a reflection of your life.
Your origin is you as much as it is me.
We are sister and brother.
We are God.
Together we transcend.
Together, we become one entity as we experience
the beauty of consciousness.
You are my natural friend.
You thrive and stretch your veins outward
to kiss the hands that caress you.
Alive,
with me,
We coexist fluenty
Mar 6, 2017
Mar 6, 2017 at 5:51 PM UTC
This is the colour of my anger:
A white hot searing fever
Tearing through my veins like amphetamine;
A surreal dream that keeps replaying in my brain
Over and over again...
Life is pain enough
Without other people
Making it tough. Guess I ran out of luck:
Top of the class and surrounded by dumb *****
Whose only qualification is knowing how to trigger
The ticking bomb I've strapped on
In my anger.
This is the colour
This is the colour
This is the ************* colour
This is the colour of my anger:
This weird red mist with its fingers
Coiled around my brain,
Blurring my vision as I allow it
To make my decisions
For me. Again, it hands me the gun, then runs,
Leaving me to get the
Damage done. Well, aint this fun?
Three, two, one, and it’s time to take cover
I won’t get any sleep
Until I’ve shown you the colour
Of my anger.
This is the colour
This is the colour
This is the ************* colour
This is the colour of my anger:
A smouldering orange lava
That laughs at the wrath of the sun,
And I feel like the risen Son
As it pours out of me, heavenly,
Reducing everything in its path to the
Sum of zero
But this is just a fraction of what it’s capable of.
Hot and full of hell is my fury. Shit's getting gory.
It's time to remove the canker.
No more bluffing, I’m all in -
Let the games begin
With my anger.
This is the colour
This is the colour
This is the ************* colour
This is the colour of my anger:
The cloudless blue of my eyes
As I admire my workmanship,
Reflecting upon the new ********
That I have just ripped for you.
My smile spreads from ear to ear, like a slit throat,
Beatific in my ecstasy as this anger drains out of me.
The adrenaline that pumped so furiously
Now dumps its load in me, bringing me to my knees.
Enough, I say, as I see how small you stand there;
Let's call it a day, now be on your way,
Just remember the colour of my anger.
Don’t ever
****
With me
Again
Jun 25, 2012
Jun 25, 2012 at 10:40 PM UTC
The write was written
red ice
twice bitten
his soul a black clot
a faucet for a neck
she fell in a crepuscular fold
odor of tincture fuckubus
red mouth
a snarling kiss
a hot hiss chariot
a black bite
her womb spread wide
for a tongue that didn't end
nail polished *******
like torn cherries
soft gauze tourniquet
a slow yield
milk petals and rivulets
a ghastly confection
leaning over like a spilled ***
her gullet a metropolis of jewels
forced throat bound
on a black cross
she sailed on a magic carpet
like a vampires fizz cocktail
a red ice float
of starvation
his mind a dead sky
a pageant of coiled clouds
he held her down
she levitated
they were in love
Nov 26, 2018
Nov 26, 2018 at 4:29 PM UTC
it's our laughter that
bound us;
the moment of camaraderie
new friendship being born
unsure whether this'll be thorn
or storm
and i sat there, torn
unsure where to go from here
a welcoming clasp
palm on palm, fingers
coiled around one another
a peace treaty, a clap of agreement
a silent pact between us
" i gotchu"
a " thank you"
a smile here
a couple more there
am offer for selfless help
and pride in me
pride in you
teamwork.
teamwork,
that forged out friendship
and i thank you
for all your help
all of it.
Apr 14, 2020
Apr 14, 2020 at 7:27 AM UTC
There was once two,
that cared about each other.
They were happily together so long,
it was unimagined that anything could go wrong.
When he saw her,
with her beautiful blond hair,
that coiled around his fingers anytime he felt it.
Her sweet chocolate eyes that stared
and pierced through what pumped his blood
to keep him there.
Her sweet voice attracted him like a honey bee to a flower,
soft, like the ocean waves.
A sound you could fall asleep to,
but wouldn't because you'd never get bored.
The taste of her lips unique,
He loved to kiss her cheek.
When they hugged and he bowed his head over her shoulder,
he felt his cheek pressed against her clavicle,
wondering if she felt the discomfort of bone against bone.
He could smell her perfume, especially on dates.
But nothing could smell better to him than her natural scent;
Freshly showered every morning,
coffee on the table waiting,
setting the expectation that today will be a great day.
He leaves to work,
believing when he returns she'd be there.
At the same time,
nothing makes him more sad,
than knowing she is allowed to leave forever.
yet, more beautiful than a dove in a cage,
is the one that is always free.
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 2:24 AM UTC
Black power!
I stopped hiding from my roots, I do not let my natural tightly coiled strands become chemically manipulated into bone straightness. I'm no longer hiding from my roots.
My natural hair will represent this
I went on an interview today for a position as a dental assistant, checked out the office on the website right after and then
oh no
The staff is all white, what if I don't get hired because of...
Black Power!
I stopped hiding from my roots; the sun is not my enemy. I no longer veil from its rays because the fear of getting "blacker." Look at that skin; love its rich deep melanin. Follow my movement; I'm no longer hiding from my roots.
My black skin will prove this
The other night I went out with a couple of new friends,
to be more precise they were homemade Alantians.
Born and raised in Atlanta!
It was a nice warm night, and at the end of it they wanted to take some pics to post up on their instagrams. But guys wait; let’s get into the light, I don’t want to appear all dark next to you light brights. You are all mixed which makes you effortlessly good lookin'
snap
Ugh I hate it I'm to black, don’t post that.
I stopped hiding from my roots, I rock my tightly coiled natural strands.
I'm not ashamed of who I am, Look at my skin and its deep rich melanin
Walking with my fist raised up in the air to represent what I on a daily contradict.
Black Power!
Forgive me, I'm new to this. When I was growing up the things that embodied our black nation was never accepted.
Black power! I'm ready to follow this radical movement.
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 10:27 AM UTC
Her skin looks pale,
White shedding brown,
like a golden brown velvet
strewn across a skeleton
made from Cleopatra’s frame.
There is nothing to it,
her sway is flawless
in her stilettos,
O’ God those stilettos.
She pave the roads with
blossoms of Primrose
and Calla Lilies, as the tip
of her heels stab the earth.
Her body melts cotton candies
in winter,
her curve bakes pastries
in snowy mountains,
It was an unbelievable sight,
like a sunrise, she climbs the edges
of the highest of peaks,
like the wind, she enters a heart by
the creaks; like a creep.
Perhaps nothing shall stop her,
Her footsteps continue to pierce
the soil, making a sound close to the
cracking of my knuckles.
She made people snivel and weep
when she enters the room
with her slender black dress.
She makes heads turn almost
to their full circle,
it would be death to steal a
peek, or glance, a peep.
She is the sun on earth:
hot and highly radiated
but too tempting to be left alone.
She is like the still waters:
calm, clean and serene
but too quiet to know the depth;
and still willingly jump in.
It is like believing again.
She is like believing again.
She is tiny as is her name,
It shall rhyme as the bell shines,
Her hair, her coiled twisted hair,
is much like herself: curled, twisted
bended.
Yet she is, perhaps, the twist in life,
the curl of wind on her bosoms, or
the bend of spines when eyes turn
to gaze at her splendor.
It is uncertain what she is,
but I know, vaguely.
She, like a Zinnia, shall be the
decoration of this planet.
She shall be, though exaggerated,
the reason for our existence.
She, corrupted and dangerous,
shall reclaim her spot in divinity
and shall forever more be
my source of inspiration.
Like a stream of clear water,
gushing down the torrent
ovately,
ornately,
creatively,
purposefully…
She shall see herself,
breathe herself and know that
only she is the one she could
deliberately fall…
…or fail.
The black sand shall be her dress,
the grey rocks shall be her stilettos,
that clear water be her conscience
as she takes on the world.
With her cursive eye shadows
she will see the funny side of
life; she will see it thoroughly.
She, regardless, will persist
and resist the failure
of herself, with the moist
creek on her seductive lips.
She is seduction.
She is temptation.
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 12:13 AM UTC
I've got a grasp on my black telephone
Holding it tight to my ear
No fear. He'll pick up
It's like 3AM or later
I'm ****** up
Dropped my wallet in the elevator
Now I've stumbled into bed
Living dead and seeing red
Ring
Ring
Ring
"We're sorry..."
Thoughts swarm like locusts
Bug-buzzing in the phone
Sweating my spray tan on the bed sheets
Left alone with a dial tone.
Nightstand pill bottle Jesus
I'm reaching out for you
It's been ringing for a few minutes now
I've rolled up in the coiled phone cord
'I think the room is spinning'
Tilt-a-whirl bed taunts my stomach
'I'm home at least'
'I need to tell him how I feel'
Ring
Ring -
"We're sorry, the number you have called
Is not in service at this time
Please check the number
Or try your call again."
Jun 23, 2012
Jun 23, 2012 at 2:24 AM UTC
Coiled around the core
of my heart
Is a sigh for the *****
who sold my art.
I was that fiend, lusting for care,
not long ago,
I wrote the shame on the page I tear,
I am my foe.
But dead now, is that ***** *****
Buried deep within;
I write for me forevermore,
Yet carry still that sin.
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 10:03 AM UTC
At spawn of first light
Darkness embarks into the recesses of hibernation
And so begins the blinding incline,
the inevitable blonde coiled wreaths frustration is on the rise
forces a discharge so multiple and emanate,
the skyward black shrinks back
from panoptic reaches,
into a delinquent weakened rumor
When this daily task of ridding the black ends a victor
The climb continues upward in a high sky setting
Consequential over the mornings painstaking labors
Wiping from his brow,
in a waving motion
To release mists over global hydration
By welcoming this morning dew,
the earth is one more day new
and can take great relief in this rebirth
Assuring all parched famine will gain resolve
taking in their absolve
Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 12:15 PM UTC
the rat ******* has been re-purposed
(conscripted in a somewhat fodder task)
brandishing irons
and quarter lines
coiled and unwavering
insidious and cunning
pent up and fired
in his dripping shoes
and peel back skin
wheel bug and hookworm
are stolid in his wake
(all bursting grossly at the buckle!)
the heel on task;
slithering and rogue
merciless and coy
resolute and contemptuous
with his cotton mat
and quick ready quill
pungi and clapper
raise the clever snake
(croker sacks and wicker backs
dot the gasoline rainbow)
carnival barkers and kraken
(lewd in the distance)
taunting and vile
with their red beakers
and deep purple hearts
cicada and louse
high on alert
(ready to wreak havoc in the hog wallows)
the perverse cornered rat
snapping and soiled
foaming and inflamed
lurking and primed
inside his carefully crafted plan
easels and cover alls
suit this jackal well
(keefer’s little helper or so they'd say)
pickers running rough shod
all stirring up the stench
***** and conkeys
poised
and ready
to lime this cornered slug
May 4, 2017
May 4, 2017 at 10:57 PM UTC
Muscles are a network of steel cables.
Winding together forming the landscape of the body,
Coiled to spring, convolted and twisting.
Rigid and strained, beneath the skin.
Taut. Tense.
Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 4:46 AM UTC
Hypermart.
News on air.
Boondoggles,
owl ogles,
ongoing.
Jaywalking.
Reverse gear.
Biting into ginger.
Hindsight: familiar.
Slow down,
observant mirror.
Heartwringing.
Twigs
flying in a whirl.
Coiled up cord;
Snakes from the past.
Boondocks,
hornswoggling,
heartwarming.
Oct 18, 2013
Oct 18, 2013 at 2:21 PM UTC