"comfortless" poems
Out here there are no hearthstones,
Hot grains, simply. It is dry, dry.
And the air dangerous. Noonday acts queerly
On the mind's eye erecting a line
Of poplars in the middle distance, the only
Object beside the mad, straight road
One can remember men and houses by.
A cool wind should inhabit these leaves
And a dew collect on them, dearer than money,
In the blue hour before sunup.
Yet they recede, untouchable as tomorrow,
Or those glittery fictions of spilt water
That glide ahead of the very thirsty.
I think of the lizards airing their tongues
In the crevice of an extremely small shadow
And the toad guarding his heart's droplet.
The desert is white as a blind man's eye,
Comfortless as salt. Snake and bird
Doze behind the old maskss of fury.
We swelter like firedogs in the wind.
The sun puts its cinder out. Where we lie
The heat-cracked crickets congregate
In their black armorplate and cry.
The day-moon lights up like a sorry mother,
And the crickets come creeping into our hair
To fiddle the short night away.
30.8k
JOHN KEATS’ LAST POEM WRITTEN IN ROME ON 21st February 1821*
(From The Imagination Of The Writer)
I am fading, fading fast, Fanny, my love eternal
Far away from you and home
I am dying, the hours I am counting
In what I liken to my grave that is Rome.
All that I seek in this dark loneliness is solace
Moments of respite thinking
Of you and our past exchanges of affection
Dissolved by fate with our hopes descending
Unto the oblivion that had been pre-ordained
Tears are comfortless and what is to come
Is but this pain that seared love must bear unknown
Only self-felt and suffered without end that renders my heart totally numb.
I can’t understand and it defies reason
The human heart should bear so much pain
While the tranquil stars hold so steadfast and the song
Of the nightingale drifts so sublimely in every sweet refrain.
Youth once gaily clothed in such beauty but now
Grows spectre-thin and here is but fret and fever
Where the old and infirm hang their heads down
In tearful reminiscences of happy days that have fled forever.
And now, my ***** my only love, you alone in this
The saddest schemes of things should share
This my life so wretched , lost, unfulfilled and joy-bereft
I beg forgiveness, only remember my poems—sorrow let us silently bear.
John Keats one of the greatest English romantic poets died on 23rd February 1821 in Rome, aged twenty-five
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 8:12 PM UTC
There is a change—and I am poor;
Your love hath been, nor long ago,
A fountain at my fond heart’s door,
Whose only business was to flow;
And flow it did; not taking heed
Of its own bounty, or my need.
What happy moments did I count!
Blest was I then all bliss above!
Now, for that consecrated fount
Of murmuring, sparkling, living love,
What have I? shall I dare to tell?
A comfortless and hidden well.
A well of love—it may be deep—
I trust it is,—and never dry:
What matter? if the waters sleep
In silence and obscurity.
—Such change, and at the very door
Of my fond heart, hath made me poor.
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A fool I was to sleep at noon,
And wake when night is chilly
Beneath the comfortless cold moon;
A fool to pluck my rose too soon,
A fool to snap my lily.
My garden-plot I have not kept;
Faded and all-forsaken,
I weep as I have never wept:
Oh it was summer when I slept,
It's winter now I waken.
Talk what you please of future spring
And sun-warm'd sweet to-morrow:--
Stripp'd bare of hope and everything,
No more to laugh, no more to sing,
I sit alone with sorrow.
2.8k
*Indefinite black pervades the air,
a darkened sun casts no shine
luminous black, like concrete surrounds you,
light is absent, Cimmerian shade is all.
Sonorous, sullied, sooty black cloaks all.
Shimmering, in the corner is a jet black,
obsidian hard sparkle, it's just a puddle.
A puddle made to sparkle in the street light.
A joyless sight in the darkness of a Stygian night.
Indistinct figures rush by, oblivious to the sparkling puddle.
Somber souls,mournfully groping homeward in the false electric light.
Home to a comfortless home, having failed to see the sparkle in the dark.*
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 11:25 AM UTC
Hanging Ropes
Mine heart
A solitary room
But of shadows and redundant dust
Mine heart
You've set on a play Judas dart
The forbidden walls
Your hanging cute portrait
Every glimpse of you,is a vision doom
You're killing me
But the deeps inside me
Of where sorrowful blood flows
You pause my pulse
You leave me with hanging ropes
You're an aeronaut
You make me fly but with froozen feet
I'm comfortless
You've brimmed my soul with tormenting maggots
But I shall lie in peace on these ropes,a piece.
Hanging ropes
©Historian E.Lexano(P.h.D)
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 6:03 AM UTC
When I was dead, my spirit turned
To seek the much-frequented house
I passed the door, and saw my friends
Feasting beneath green orange-boughs;
From hand to hand they pushed the wine,
They ****** the pulp of plum and peach;
They sang, they jested, and they laughed,
For each was loved of each.
I listened to their honest chat:
Said one: "To-morrow we shall be
Plod plod along the featureless sands,
And coasting miles and miles of sea."
Said one: "Before the turn of tide
We will achieve the eyrie-seat."
Said one: "To-morrow shall be like
To-day, but much more sweet."
"To-morrow," said they, strong with hope,
And dwelt upon the pleasant way:
"To-morrow," cried they, one and all,
While no one spoke of yesterday.
Their life stood full at blessed noon;
I, only I, had passed away:
"To-morrow and to-day," they cried;
I was of yesterday.
I shivered comfortless, but cast
No chill across the table-cloth;
I, all-forgotten, shivered, sad
To stay, and yet to part how loth:
I passed from the familiar room,
I who from love had passed away,
Like the remembrance of a guest
That tarrieth but a day.
2.1k
I didn’t see the moss at the foot of the white-clad border walls
because I was holding you by the edges,
so to not crease, rip or crinkle you.
The road is always long, but this street
takes the **** The same trees grow and repeat,
twisting up into great nothings acting as a canopy,
but not quite pulling it off as the rain broke through.
You looked comfortless in my arms, as though you’d
rather be somewhere different in a lot less clothing, and asleep
waking to a familiar ceiling nearer to the weekend than this weekday
in May.
Sometimes, if the wind is right and ushered correctly,
the crane lights of the night highlight that moss
and only those searching will be aware that
it lives at the bottom of a white-clad border wall
just over there.
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 10:15 AM UTC
This door you might not open, and you did;
So enter now, and see for what slight thing
You are betrayed. . . . Here is no treasure hid,
No cauldron, no clear crystal mirroring
The sought-for truth, no heads of women slain
For greed like yours, no writhings of distress,
But only what you see. . . . Look yet again—
An empty room, cobwebbed and comfortless.
Yet this alone out of my life I kept
Unto myself, lest any know me quite;
And you did so profane me when you crept
Unto the threshold of this room to-night
That I must never more behold your face.
This now is yours. I seek another place.
1.7k
I want you to hold me and say...
but you don’t say,
and I am angered inside.
Charged up like a bull,
you are teasing me with
your red flag
and at night...
When you reach out to empty,
It makes me feel so empty.
Your skin, on my skin
makes my skin crawl.
I want to slip into the darkness
of the comfortless night,
separate my soul from body,
peep in through the windows to see what
we’ve become.
You’re that monster...
Not hiding under the bed but sleeping next to me.
Yet how could this monster look so beautifully at peace?
My pillow is drenched now,
still stained from previous nights
when words were too difficult to express how I felt.
So I let this salty stream do the talking,
It flows out so effortlessly.
Even then they’re too silent in our silence.
One day I will find the courage
to wear your red flag,
and cast away the love you keep rejecting...
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 3:40 PM UTC
(the poem, the story intends to reveal,
or vice versa, the story I'm told is very old)
Seven silent days of shiva, sort of premature,
sitting with one called their friend,
our friend, as we watch, from now
from here
we know the daysman,
we observers in mind,
flies on sores, flies on walls, we can use their eyes
we can pity the comforters and the comfortless moan,
Come into my comfort zone, cries Job. What comfort?
Why me?
was answered,
Job looks our way and winks, an a side,
I invited the daysman, he says,
but only ere knowing God almighty
knows,
and the accuser of man,
whom mine symbolizes,
knows not,
how it is to be a mortal man,
wombed or un.
Would God there were a daysman betwixt us.
I said, unaware,
completely of any good news on its way my way
I coulda said nothing, had I known
Would God there were a daysman betwixt us.
I said, I thought,
So I can
wonder whys and hows, ask where truth abides in what men have
imagined, what drew the sweetness, what drew pain,
is luck a factor? Sacred making, did we get that wrong?
Seems is as it seems to be, here.
This is not afterlife, this is life, today.
This day's daysman twixt truth and lie,
in the meta game, he is neither
archaic warden of loafing warrior's watchtower,
or miller minding the grinding, seeing
all who labor,
they shall eat.
Who legislates tradition? Meek or mighty?
******* speaks: ax Moses.
Fair, that's fair. Meekest man God knew,
some of his works
could be cut and paste, that's fine,
he wrote the rules in his day.
He can be the referee, the daysman in this game.
A mediator for fools who only ever knew lies.
A man who once was a speechless babe.
A referee who makes the rules? Jesus, can we cheat?
This is leaven? We loosed leaven? Jo-bob, we didit!
Jesus H. Christ! The bomb.
Once enacted the package never stops,
as long as there is that which can be leavened,
it shall be leavened.
The Kingdom of Heaven is like that.
===
No, life isn't fair. The good guys won the metagame,
quite a while ago.
But, if you ain't in the game, you wouldn't agree.
Time will tell. What the hell, wait and see.
Merry Christmas.
Oct 16, 2018
Oct 16, 2018 at 9:12 PM UTC
(Isaiah, ix. 15-20)
Hear what God the Lord hath spoken,
"O my people, faint and few,
Comfortless, afflicted, broken,
Fair abodes I build for you.
Thorns of heartfelt tribulation
Shall no more perplex your ways;
You shall name your walls, Salvation,
And your gates shall all be Praise.
"There, like streams that feed the garden,
Pleasures without end shall flow,
For the Lord, your faith rewarding,
All His bounty shall bestow;
Still in undisturb'd possession
Peace and righteousness shall reign;
Never shall you feel oppression,
Hear the voice of war again.
"Ye no more your suns descending,
Waning moons no more shall see;
But your griefs forever ending,
Find eternal noon in me:
God shall rise, and shining o'er ye,
Change to day the gloom of night;
He, the Lord, shall be your glory,
God your everlasting light."
1.1k
Lost lips part like the eye-opening sun horizon,
An advent recalling the misty memory of june's air
Brightening the hills in our bedsheets with autumn leafed patterns.
In the places where my vision lines meet His rays, there extends
A celestial sonic boom, peeling back the layers
Of what once was evening.
The darkening spheres of my face bathe in the sigh
Of your whisperingly swaying lily wrist
Wrapped ubiquitously in red and blue longitude lines in pale skin veil.
Wandering lonesome in one, I know, is blood pumped
From my own otherwise aimless arteries - beating the passing seconds
On their dancing pump-drums and announcing them
Like guests at a party.
And softly, beyond the cavernous mouth hole of our comfortless comforter
Two legs entangled like taffy, teased and stretched at Separation
And his cruel scythe-like thought summons. And
My eyelashes know they can only bow to you three more times
Before Apollo arrives and the two of you elope
Off down the mountain.
Oct 3, 2011
Oct 3, 2011 at 11:55 PM UTC
Everything keeps on flooding into this associative mesh,
It all reflects such involved significance
I ache to grip the essence, but settle for metaphors
pining after describable meaning.
Stretch my fingertips far, and further still
try to cradle the lattice
it escapes me, ever extending
Leaves me in a daze,
wooly and jumbled.
Obscurity is thick and difficult
Her true depth shrouded in a coolness
The perfect touch of rugged to rouse baseline beauty
compelling, titillating
Just like the divine bitter edge of dark chocolate
—how it aggrandizes the taste,
stretches it beyond mere sweetness—
she imbues my life with ***** full-bodied awe.
dark, deep
Terrifying
Fantastic.
A moment- She steals away my peace
comfortless, deserted. Cold and abandoned.
Shriveling at sheer confusion
Cant seem to understand this whole thing I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to but it’s all a bit much the compulsive need to know plus innate knowledge that I can’t
A bit cruel
Another-She invites me into warm, multicolored awareness, acceptance
Free of cosmic heaviness
Forgetting the weight of existence and filled with bliss
I’ve got it I’ve just got to do it Just got to
Live my life
Not try so hard to understand it all.
The oscillations make my head spin.
Mar 7, 2023
Mar 7, 2023 at 12:50 PM UTC
Brain is dead
heart is bled
heavy chest
interrupted breaths
grave moments
crashing sobs
temples throb
****** torture
wax-paper wipes
comfortless needs
paintbrush umbrella
wrestling pillows
writhing limbs
screams inside
loud as red
hands tick and tremor
long and never
pitiful depths
of mire
morose prose
lingers instead.
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 6:09 PM UTC
Lo! Such is bright a moon along night sky,
Distant was evenings Christmas lights,
I wondered o’er winter’s vista,
Perplexed, standing peering, a frozen pond
Beneath frozen birch trees I paused,
Watching silent and dreary,
Alabaster ornaments stretched a far,
Not a poet gay anymore
Pensive perched on a chilly hill,
Breathing frills spiralled through chilled air,
My heart, red holly berries bore winters green spikes,
Winter Raven danced fancy nearby thoughtful was I
Gentle hearts greatest treasurer no more,
What wasted power in loves sweet spent flowers,
How rich was the whither?
Of pride forfeited a sad creature my comfortless well
Oh, are weight winter’s shadows clad in his star tears,
Silently watching meteors dance on skies ─ a night cloud passes by,
A face robs now still eye, a breath, a beat in lover’s glare,
A soul set sail, passage a moon, a star sparkled a future pair
Only winter sleeps in silent mists, a winter’s breath
Until summer comes near ─ my darling dear.......
© Arnay Rumens / A Sol Poet N 2014
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 6:58 AM UTC
I can only assimilate my comfortless solitude in small pieces.
Give me sugar.
Give me sugar mummy to sweeten the sting.
The contours of life are spoiling my mien.
Appease me, appease me like a child.
Please lull me into a sense of security.
I do not mind if it is dishonest.
I do not.
Sep 27, 2011
Sep 27, 2011 at 4:06 PM UTC
I made the same mistake I always make,
Promises to myself that I never want to break…
But I do.
As if my swan song is on replay.
Imbibe, Undress, Feel Alone, Regret.
Regret.
Regret.
Women are supposed to wait, not give so much away. There is this whole game that I never had even begun to play while others were already in the advanced stage. I know there is something different about me. I can feel it in the way people talk as if there is something they are seeing that I am not feeling. The disconnect feels like a gap that is widening and crumbling away underneath my feet.
I made the same mistake I always make which ends in me being comfortless
Strangers ask me how I could be single in comparison with the characteristics that make up me, as if beauty was mutually exclusive with companionship.
I want to tell them it’s because I’m crazy.
Because I choose to pursue men who I cannot obtain and usually only after I’ve given anything they could possibly want away.
I’m exhausted and distressed
Afraid that my mistake will consume the only male friendship I had yet to taint
Disquieted knowing I could easily desire more when you do not feel the same.
Assuming every ignored text is more then a simple coincidence
Lost and afraid my comfortable place, my friend I turned to when I wished everything else to fade away, is no longer available free of any constraints.
Jul 25, 2013
Jul 25, 2013 at 6:37 PM UTC
Disturbing love, leave my pain alone
To suffer itself without further sting
From impossible whispers urges bring
Promising penetrating, careful bone.
Let me not think, together we’ll moan
In a comfortless acquaintance fling
Though I still to desperate poses cling
To make my bottom inclination known.
When near again, allow out my heart
Hungry expressions suggesting ease
To beg exchange of soul and stranger skin.
Assist securing word for his part
His readiness to physically please:
Embrace me in the agony of sin.
Jul 28, 2020
Jul 28, 2020 at 6:35 PM UTC
A dream or a wish has no matter of time
Its feeling transponds past reason and rhyme
So foolish to think there's a time and a place
To write all the words that you read in your face.
*Though people were made to be perfect
It seems the world oft is jealous, and so
We do what we can with the prospect
That we'll be all we can in a time we don't know.*
But I want to leave you with reason to be
A seed in your head that will grow to a tree
You'll never be more than what you are now
Lest you let the world change you, the where and the how.
*We all have a dream and a wish for our life,
But for many that's all it will be.
Most lost their longing in comfortless strife,
But you, you have listened to me.*
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 1:15 PM UTC
Lo! Such is bright the moon along night sky
Distant was evenings Christmas light
I wondered o’er winter’s vista
Perplexed, standing peering on frozen pond
Beneath frozen birch trees
I watched silent and dreary
Alabaster ornaments stretched a far
No longer a poet gay
Pensive perched on a chilly hill
Breathing frills spiralled through the air
My heart, red holly berries bore winters green spikes
Winter Raven danced fancy nearby, thoughtful was I
Gentle hearts greatest treasurer no more
What wasted power in loves sweet spent flowers
How rich was the whither?
Of pride forfeited such a sad creature my comfortless well
Oh, are weight winter’s shadows clad in his stars
Silently watching meteors dance on skies as night clouds pass by
A face robs now still eye, a breath, a beat in lover’s glare
A soul set sail, passage a moon, a star sparkled a future pair
Only winter sleeps in silent mists, a winter’s breath
Until summer comes near
── my darling dear.......
© Arnay Rumens AN 2014
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 11:45 AM UTC
The air so thick with blackness
A knife could slice it through
The mind shrouded in darkness
Any light would snuffed be too
The soul enchained in sadness
Crushing fetters of grief so blue
The spirit doused in coldness
Icy grip of memories, tis cruel
Dark night of my soul's distress
Sunrise, nay none in view.
My world of obscure somberness
No glimmer, no ray, no dew.
My unending night, comfortless
my constant companion you
Never you left me friendless
My dark night, ever so true.
Dec 7, 2016
Dec 7, 2016 at 11:46 PM UTC
I will not leave you comfortless says the Lord of LOVE
I will come to you child, like the soaring doves above
no stone shall brush your tender feet
no winds shall crush your finest wheat
I will not leave you faithless says the Lord of joy
I will come to you wearing the armor of LOVE
I will be your hero your noble one
I will be your one and only Son
I will not leave your mourning alone says the Lord of ease
I will come to you, like a bending tree on a summer breeze
no prayer shall go untold
no sheep shall leave its fold
I will not leave you comfortless says the Lord of LOVE
I will come to you, like the soaring doves above...
Aug 1, 2023
Aug 1, 2023 at 7:02 AM UTC