"convalescence" poems
From out the dragging vastness of the sea,
Wave-fettered, bound in sinuous, seaweed strands,
He toils toward the rounding beach, and stands
One moment, white and dripping, silently,
Cut like a cameo in lazuli,
Then falls, betrayed by shifting shells, and lands
Prone in the jeering water, and his hands
Clutch for support where no support can be.
So up, and down, and forward, inch by inch,
He gains upon the shore, where poppies glow
And sandflies dance their little lives away.
The ******* waves ****** and tighter clinch
The weeds about him, but the land-winds blow,
And in the sky there blooms the sun of May.
4.7k
I don't want to go a
gentle journey,
from convoluted to
convalescence.
I quit drinking again;
found love in
the psych ward.
She's my broken-winged
angel.
So much pain behind that
sweet smile.
She's drinking again,
and I can't fix her.
It hurts, like an arrow
through the stomach.
I have a rabbit that comes
to my yard.
She lies in the same
spot every day.
So much so, that
she has worn down a
place for herself--the surrounding
grass grows around her.
She feels safe.
I feed her spinach, and my
brother sings her
show tunes.
That's what we get
for having a drama
teacher for a father.
Thanks, Dad.
It's been an unseasonably
cold April.
I feel sorry for Harvey;
That's her name, thanks
again Dad.
I talk to her softly.
"Hi, baby--what are you doing?
Do you want to come in?"
She doesn't answer. I'm sober.
I want to take care of her...
Both of them...
My two little bunnies.
It's cold, and the wind is
blowing hard,
beneath a mean grey sky.
May 1, 2022
May 1, 2022 at 6:11 PM UTC
I was not sick
and needed no
convalescence
no rebirth
or panning
view of
bloodscape
the black
gasp of dawn
it offered
never
drew
no sickness
no hospital
beds
or starched sheets
no goodbye
rain
or last shot
of whiskey
it unended
when the
sickness of
the mind
rolled in
with its fingers
shaped like a gun
and a trash bag
for my jewel
*give me
no sickness*
I begged
and robbers
there were three
beat me down and
left me like a
headless buck
Sep 11, 2017
Sep 11, 2017 at 3:55 PM UTC
The surgeons listened to jaunty be
bop while they cut through his cranium.
A metal plate was inserted,
dissecting memories and thoughts,
causing confusion between
his now and then.
He left hospital with a funny taste in his mouth
which he could not name
or shake.
During the period of convalescence
his children tried to cheer him up
by attaching fridge magnets to his head.
a cow, a banana, the Tower of London,
a badge reminding them to Give Blood.
One fridge magnet secured in place a drawing,
reminding him of childhood pictures which were
seventy five percent blue sky
and twenty five percent thick
bands of green grass
and all the family stood outside
where sunflowers were bigger than houses.
Dec 29, 2012
Dec 29, 2012 at 1:04 PM UTC
Fear of wounds from the past
A broken man unearthed once again
Fear of unending convalescence
Stemmed from the spine of circumstance
Lingering pain of mistakes made in youth
Physical nightmares
Please forgive me, my corporeal self
My judgement was clouded
And now I am the better man
That I should have been back then
People say I'm lucky that I still breathe
A part of me died that day
They should of left me there, beneath the trees
Dec 8, 2022
Dec 8, 2022 at 11:43 AM UTC
I don't want to go a
gentle journey,
from convoluted to
convalescence.
I quit drinking again;
found love in
the psych ward.
She's my broken-winged
angel.
So much pain behind that
sweet smile.
She's drinking again,
and I can't fix her.
It hurts, like an arrow
through the stomach.
I have a rabbit that comes
to my yard.
She lies in the same
spot every day.
So much so, that
she has worn down a
place for herself--the surrounding
grass grows around her.
She feels safe.
I feed her spinach, and my
brother sings her
show tunes.
That's what we get
for having a drama
teacher for a father.
Thanks, Dad.
It's been an unseasonably
cold April.
I feel sorry for Harvey;
That's her name, thanks
again Dad.
I talk to her softly.
"Hi, baby--what are you doing?
Do you want to come in?"
She doesn't answer. I'm sober.
I want to take care of her...
Both of them...
My two little bunnies.
It's cold, and the wind is
blowing hard,
beneath a mean grey sky.
Aug 25, 2024
Aug 25, 2024 at 3:34 PM UTC
From the time we are born,
we are flawed,
both through nurture and through nature are we damaged,
but there is something so beautiful,
so fatalistic about that,
and since we are inclined to failure,
the only way we can travel is forward.
Sometimes we move only a few steps at a time,
and more often than not,
we measure improvement by leaps and bounds,
both are progress,
both are important.
We like to think we are rational,
but statistically speaking,
we trust in our instinct more often than not,
even if it is beyond its depth,
we are not rational creatures,
striving for excess is not logical,
for time is money,
and survival is logical,
but we want more,
gathering approval is not efficient,
in many respects animals are much more optimal.
The thing that sets us apart,
the most important thing to note,
is love,
love is not logical,
love is not efficient,
but we value it anyway,
and so in the end,
we are not what we think we are,
we are not animals,
we are illogical,
we are inefficient,
and we are healing,
healing from the day we are born,
born with a frail disposition,
we are human,
and we are slowly mending.
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 6:12 AM UTC
Everyone learns that convalescence turns to evanescence when reheated bubbles rise into effervescence. Conflicts turn with ease from shame to blame and wrap back around afflicting and constricting the veins. Tension to dissension when your worst thoughts slide by the side taking every abide on their pretentious and demented path to divide. This lesson on entropy is no radical notion. But rather a fanatical description of raw emotion. The most important connections we build in this life will be tested redundant with an abundance of strife. Perfection is impossible, we must only continue to row. Our reflection is the garden that we inevitably grow. It begins at one moment by sowing a single seed. Reach out to someone feeling lonesome because truly we are all in need. Or try again with heart in hand and if you fear for wasted time...
*I love you.
I forgive you.*
These few words don't need to rhyme.
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 2:08 AM UTC
Everyone talks about passion as if they know her.
But passion is my closest friend.
Passion is the fire that burns behind her eyes, the cigarette perishing between her lips.
Passion is the way my mouth feels against her chest, the breathy moan as my fingers grab her hips
Everyone says she is intense, but all I can think is how much there’s left to learn
Because passion knows what it feels like to burn out.
She lights fires in dangerous places and has more scorch marks than she has friends
Shes so calm and gentle yet never condescends
Passion is convalescence, her voice heals more than it bites
She holds my hand in the day time and holds me tighter in the nights.
Passion is pulling her closer at 1am because she smells like hope.
And nobody talks about hope as if they know her.
Passion is manipulated, overlooked and exploited
Everyone talks about passion as if they know her.
But nobody talks about passion as if they deserve her.
Apr 4, 2018
Apr 4, 2018 at 7:53 AM UTC
my loves, the many accumulated mn-
eumonic responses play'd on future
women. ideas based on the poiv-
rottes of idealized affectation past.
cesspools emptied by the horse-tanks
with stelth in the night, but the-
re couldn't be much stealth for a target
reeking of **** and convalescence.
sadness and that odor would
hang heavy in the first cold rains
of winter. transplanting thoughts,
always transplanted emotions of
subjugation. she was waiting for
someone, this now past but once
future poivrotte. feet to be
knock'd from under, body to find
lulling embrace. mind the levitat-
ing affect. mind, the missing
portion of our feint'd love.
and
- I was always empty and
both sad and happy
with a third-class train ride, at
mon poivrottes' expense of mentality.
we could used to lay together talk-
king in adult tones through our
child mouths. remembering to poc-
ket fruit to retain our breakfast
from freezing. speaking no truer
words than those utter'd while
embraced. words from the mou-
ths of us children. truer words
never could be counterfeit, never
could be spoken without loss of
conscience. Cezanne-dreams of color,
Impressionist subconscious,
j'adore mon poivrottes. feasting of mo-
vement and staining all around with
the strong cafe au lait. follow'd aper-
itif, following digestifs, following back
to lie. to flow words from our child mo-
uths, we would walk paths through the
woods in the Autumn twilight. the trees
were sculptures having their leaves
stripped bare. walking alongside, we walk'd
ourselves down the same separate path.
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 4:54 PM UTC
"And he created out of one man every nation of men, to dwell upon the entire surface of the earth, and he decreed the appointed times and set limits of the dwelling of man." (Acts 17: 26) (New World Translation Study Edition)
When I look in the mirror, a doughty warrior, an oracle, an Olympian gazes back at me. The caramel-tinge of my skin tells of the colored pedigree from whence I came. Every ebony-tendril that bursts from my epidermis is as impregnable as the Sacred Lotus.
The history of my Mind's Sky has been tried by the Ancient African Sun of my ancestors. It is my hope, that I have passed the trials decreed by the ordinances of the Moon & Sun. Moreover, the Arbiter of Fates, Jah, dawns upon our fleshly vessel at each twilight, assaying our entities. (Isaiah 60: 19, 20) (New World Translation Study Edition)
So many intrepid souls have compassed me about. The Chalice of my Heart burgeons with esprit d' amour. The meaning of life is ne' er about intellect, is ne' er about achievement, is in part, about creativity; wholly, about Love. (John 13: 34, 35) (New World Translation Study Edition) For this reason, strength cascades upon me every moment as I witness the brilliance, the resilience of my beneficent matriarch, Stacy Amanda Foulke.
In life, I have learned that being a person of color in America is not only a wonderful privilege, but a responsibility. Why? The afflictions brought upon this skin only make it glisten brighter after convalescence. Our people have suffered inordinately so, but this is conducive to cultivating surpassing empathy. Therefore, I believe that history, as begotten through the colored legacy, shall be one of ultimate victory.
If and only if, we unfetter ourselves from the onerous burdens of the past, then Monarchical Wings shall burgeon from our Astral Chrysalis. "For though the tribulation is momentary and light, it works out for us a glory that is of more and more surpassing weight and is everlasting." (1st Corinthians 4: 17) (New World Translation Study Edition) Se' lah.
Feb 12, 2021
Feb 12, 2021 at 6:54 PM UTC
Encircling...I dare the Full--
pluck eyes from their nooks,
mind from its niche.
I, incumbent of all lines drawn
and crossed...wear the metaphoric
face of All Things.
My redundant farewell is a galactic
backlog....as memory asks: may I be
excused from these tables?
By light's celerity, light all the more...
One in One, and out of One in One--
foreknowledge to Knowledge.
Encircling...I dare the Full--emissary
to mine own circle, with news so
pressing I stumble into deaths cut to
new forms of life.
I waver my convalescence, discharge
myself from the throes of creation...
a gladdened prophecy...self-fulfilled.
Encircling...I dare the Full.
Jun 10, 2012
Jun 10, 2012 at 2:21 AM UTC
Love ain’t for the faint of heart
Cause it wrecks your soul and leaves you scarred
Let breath unfold underneath the charred remains of your patience
Soulmate remains nameless
In place a name wrought with memories of sacred
Until one day they express that you ain’t ****
Writhing in pain and your days thin to ways you can stay numb
In waves the hate sung
False anger with your fate strung on threads of late night drinking
Endless hours of thinking about how it all went wrong
You second guess your first kiss with palms balled up in fists
Straining to remain calm it just doesn’t fit
Voids draw you into the abyss
Your heart skips
Stops
Mind is in manic shifts of agony and dissonance
The lights gone
Darkness sits with faces drawn in prisms
Explains the end and the beginning are just lessons all much weather
The wounds fester and rip at your intestines
Sheer dread and suddenly convalescence
The scars you bear now filled with poise and wisdom
Knowledge and room to expand your own decisions
Each grain a possibility to new depths
Lovely, really
The way life tends to find ways to keep you sun-kissed under cloudy skies
Jun 29, 2015
Jun 29, 2015 at 2:29 PM UTC
This convalescence eases on slowly,
Coy acuteness craves the longing contentment!!
No resentment, as I walk high heel to booted lace!!!
Creditor, to whom Didst thou pay thine debt?
Or is thy debt still owed?
Curiosity is crowched beneathe the delinquency of fendid demagogues!!
Mortar of temples and synagogues,
You chief cornerstone!!!
You guru with no home,
Curvature of decadence delineates your demeaning haste,
Open up taste the taste, and heed thy view!!!
A must programmed to turn muteable,
A mourner for me and you.
Omniscient angels raistheth me above the mountains peaks,
Where the strange instruments are observable,
And lovers are loveable,
As your kin she will be to be more than distraction!!!!
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 6:13 PM UTC
The world is now a medley
Contradictions, paradoxes, and catch-22s
Values and morals broken
by Tolerance
And this is incidentally overly-permissive
her secret is...
The very infrastructure
The basis of normalcy is
not just broken down
But warped altogether
Shabby Spackle cracks reveal CHANGE
Ephemeral periods to lick wounds
That are, indeed, a fallacy
And the dogs howl for convalescence
Imagine the point of no return,
where light can only remain an idea
for the overwhelming pitch black veil enveloping you
Faces distant blur as shadows creep contemptuously
Through a place only light should know
The gateway to the soul has been breached!
Defaced, sold.
With a guaranteed price tag!
Because...?
Silence
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 11:31 PM UTC
Oh, such a natural state
the still mind is.
A blissful feeling nurtures
the heart of His.
The world is seen
through majestic eyes.
Happiness is,
while the clock-time dies.
Every moment of now
needs the full and acute attention
your being can allow,
or you live not in this dimension.
The virtue of being
lies below the surface of disconnect.
An insight so freeing,
one must merely take the time to reflect.
What is this joyful state of living?
Where one finds their heart alive,
in a natural state of forgiving;
In which the human soul does thrive.
An unconscious society
has plagued our purity.
We act with impropriety,
and live in obscurity.
Yet, there are the few
that have embraced intense awareness,
who will now renew,
and bring to life, the act of fairness.
So humanity may live with peace;
so the world may be fully reborn,
so our own soul can find release;
so the robe of unity will be worn.
Every one of nature's spirits are bound
from the inside out.
The full power of wholeness can astound,
past the edge of doubt.
Oh, how stillness lies
beneath the rubble of the mind.
And to our surprise,
we see, yet are completely blind.
But hope still reigns
in the magic of my essence,
for bliss remains,
as we start the convalescence.
As the fervor of the embracing
band into the promise of one,
I smile as the world is racing
towards a change that has long begun.
So with my fellow earthlings, I plead:
Live fully in every short moment's now,
for without each second's eternal leave,
how can we cherish if we disavow?
Dec 13, 2010
Dec 13, 2010 at 5:11 PM UTC
blind bliss
the empty contour of yesterday
turns on itself
jets to oblivion
paper streams celebrate
the century’s end
thus piled
at the foot of the terminal
a mound of teeth
and convalescence in search of illness.
Oct 21, 2018
Oct 21, 2018 at 8:08 AM UTC
God, I wish I were in Colorado
Driving down a dusty rural highway,
Beholding colossal mountains
Emerging from the horizon,
And feeling the sunlight around me
Gradually turn into snow.
There, the air befuddles the mind,
Diverting thoughts,
Altering time.
The mountains form a fortress,
Serving as a refuge to lonely travelers;
A sanctuary of serenity;
A place where spirits soar with the eagles,
Dance in the crisp, motherly breeze,
And meditate in the dense forest.
Tension dissipates,
Gratification is gained,
And convalescence commences.
God, I wish I were in Colorado.
Apr 16, 2016
Apr 16, 2016 at 8:01 PM UTC
Here comes the sun.
The puddles have dried from underneath my eyes,
And the storm-clouds evaporated from my mind.
In earnest, I call for jubilation!
Convalescence at last!
But then I remember.
My fitful feelings are simply on furlough.
This is only the eye of the storm.
Knowing this, I brace myself,
Hoping of mitigating my inert emotions.
In haste, I foist my harrowing memories,
Banishing them to far-away corners of the mind.
I defend my self-esteem,
Behind impregnable walls and menacing guards.
A shelter to ignite hope.
Inside, I feel valiant.
For once, I am strong.
Alas, it’s all to no avail.
My attempts quelling the insurrection will prove useless.
The enemy attacks from the inside.
And so with a sigh, I’ll wave my white flag.
My fortress will crumble.
Hope will no longer burn.
The storm will engulf me once more.
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 4:06 PM UTC
I had to hear the sound of the zip on that dress
I asked her back to mine for cold coffee and cigarettes
She said she doesn't smoke but she'd have one to impress
and she isn't one for coffee
So sorry, I digress
Before she sat down all these lines coalesced
with secrets and lies, I try to confess
she catalysed a crystal convalescence
her garnet eyes sparking wildfires in my chest
my lungs are so tight they could rival her dress
Stung in the heart for kicking the nest
took a shot in the dark
Again, I digress
A small crowded room - as small rooms tend to be
but for everyone there, she was all I could see
the picture of perfection, framed perfectly
in a dress designed to buckle my knees
Crowded c'rod'd quickly becomes we
and I was trying to get her on my settee
Is it a metaphor if I meant it literally?
Excuse me, once more it seems
I digress
I just had to get her out of that dress
mess up her make up
make her hair a mess
kiss her when she wakes up
and watch her get dressed
to undress her again
exalted by the scent
bask in the sound
of the zip on that dress
while I sip on cold coffee
and smoke cigarettes
Apr 19, 2019
Apr 19, 2019 at 9:33 PM UTC
what a waste of my energy, I urge my ability
utilize the sun light opening
the lewd claims echo hollow lanes
fastening ribbons accessories: posions, frog, silence
renders colors of hatred convalescence heart beat
Looking around police search light swarming bees flew
done to the beast Sea Bearing Crest domesticates blue
throat push pull **** grow push pull killed growth
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 3:18 PM UTC
Particulate disintegrate berate and inflate the absence of sense or packed, harden, racked, garden.
I see clearly when my eyes arise through the atmosphere's tears' arrangement of derangement of eminent containment in hell-house entertainment.
Luck, **** and **** have in common, many things limited to their convalescence in my head for lack of a better working word.
I can't write right now.
Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 10:08 AM UTC
my friend made a
fort of her bed with
tapestries and lights
and the five of us
converged into a
mass condensed to
a point of peace
and convalescence
time did not exist
under that sheet
with pin ****** of
light laid gently on
top the hours were
not ours we hugged
and shifted and
peeled away the
inner layers of an
almost rotten onion
tears and eyes filled
with a sad knowing
that we murmured
but did not explain
always drawn closer
in there was no point
of critical mass no
crevice small enough
to ignore no words
too true to be withheld
i spent twenty two
hours there growing
one with the mattress
pads and wind chimes
clanging as the heat
hissed gently and found
that silence that we
always said we wanted
just a moment of silence
in which i was able to be
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 1:23 PM UTC
Convalescence,
How are you?
Better,
But I've been saying it
Since the beginning.
Are the whispers inside true,
That maybe I can finally start to believe it?
What did it take,
Some may innocently wonder.
Patience.
With every single breath I make.
I've been half trying to ignore the improvement,
Fearing one moments notice will
Surely steal it all back.
"No," I whisper alone, "I want to be better."
The other half
Astonished,
I try to be proud for the little things now,
So really I should feel
Amazing.
I swear I do very much venerate all of my achievements,
It was the only way,
That I could continue to survive.
Unequivocally honestly,
I'm afraid.
Scared of it all going wrong again.
Waiting to feel the terror of all the endless times I've tried,
Getting thrown right back in my face again.
Because isn't that what's been destined to happen
From the very start?
I've been having an almost
Two month long rest,
A complete break of everything.
It was only meant to last a month, but after that month had been and gone,
It started to actually feel
A little better, brighter,
Less dark.
I'll admit it,
I'm guilty,
Guilty of getting comfortable with how it started to feel.
I didn't want it ripped away from me,
Please.
I know once it's gone it will be hard as Hell to get back,
I've already been through all that,
I am still.
I want to get back to pushing myself.
(Like this)
I never wanted to stop,
But I had to listen,
My body was screaming at me, for me
To stop.
And this evidence is telling me why I had to listen.
It seems you can't beat your body,
Ever, but especially not when it's fighting for you and against you.
And the symptoms yelled
Please stop, please be still,
Like they wanted me to sleep all day,
But still it will take half-a-year for there to be any difference.
But I waited.
I didn't get any choices.
So now, I'm sorry
It just terrifies me that trying,
When I finally let it be,
Might tear me back down, to where I used to be.
I'm not foolish enough to expect this is the end.
Surely when I try again my symptoms will join in too.
They only started to improve
The more I tried to rest.
Yes, eventually - After a lot of effort I got here,
But you have no idea how I tried.
How I limited my actions,
So in a month maybe it won't be so hard.
Now I'm here, I'm worried my efforts will send me back.
Wasted.
Don't make me go,
I don't want to be useless anymore,
I'm still bad but so much better,
Please don't
Stop me,
Hurt me,
Trip me,
Trap me,
Lose me to my own body.
Not anymore.
I'm still here
Fighting.
Nov 20, 2018
Nov 20, 2018 at 5:06 PM UTC