"cools" poems
A yellow fever burns with anger.
Mothers fill with a sense of danger.
As towns die and graveyards grow,
A carpenter’s child waits for snow.
Many lives this fever will take.
While others say this horror is fake.
This carpenters child is the only smart one.
For this fever only strikes on a hot days sun.
When winter comes and cools the air
the fever’s anger will disappear.
In the winter it hibernates.
So, dear child please wait.
In a land they is free
Yellow Fever struck in 1793.
Dec 9, 2012
Dec 9, 2012 at 11:03 AM UTC
715
The World—feels Dusty
When We stop to Die—
We want the Dew—then—
Honors—taste dry—
Flags—vex a Dying face—
But the least Fan
Stirred by a friend’s Hand—
Cools—like the Rain—
Mine be the Ministry
When they Thirst comes—
And Hybla Balms—
Dews of Thessaly, to fetch—
12.3k
The summer time storms..
The summer rain..
The summer with you..
The summer change..
The summer sunlight..
The summer in Texas..
The summer night..
The summer nexus..
The summer dreams..
The summer flowers..
The summer stars..
The summer night showers..
The summer cools..
The summer sighs..
The summer dies..
When fall arrives...
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 10:49 AM UTC
In the morning I heard the Koel’s melodious call
It is a sure sign of Sneaking autumn’s fall
What a striking difference between winter and spring
It is undoubtedly season’s eternal king
I love nature’s green saree
She smiles with an uncontrollable spree
Her saree is full of beautiful flowers
there are very many different colours
Nature’s Bindi is the glorious sun
Her hair pin is the shining moon
She cools herself with her natural fan
Her stay here might be of a little span
She sits with an yellow sarree in the palanquin
The bride groom looks at her as if she were a queen
Her beauty and shyness is her divine pride
She is a newly married mesmerizing bride
the villages are replete with ripe corn
All the birds enjoy this beautiful morn
Mar 25, 2011
Mar 25, 2011 at 6:05 AM UTC
I'll walk you through the rain..
Hold your hand in the lightning..
We will clap our hands as the air cools from the passing lightning,
THUNDERCLAP rumble on through..
Come play with me in the puddles brother..
Lets make a bottlecap boat with a sailor ant and watch it float on through the grassy ant lake..
Lets watch the rain moths fly on through after a good storm.. where do they go? into the dreams of the ones who are sleeping now..
Smell the atmoshere, smell the rain.. Watch as the day becomes filled with orange and sad gray..
Sure its muddy, and a bit cold.. and of course we are not wearing shoes.. But we are having an adventure, there is no time for such nonsense.. Only magic u and i create.. together brother, always together..
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 12:02 PM UTC
#*The Arabian Sea
A sprightly sight to behold
The cascading Sunbeams veil the sea in a platinum shimmer
The gusty wind blows
Sparkling diamonds roll up on the ocean waves
The golden Sun unravels the beauty of the bejewelled Sea
The picturesque Mumbai Skyline
Gloriously, rises up in the evening Sky
The mellowed Sun ,beauteous as an orange Rose
Leisurely dips down at the horizon
The Sky cools down to Prussian blue
The stars glimmer across the sky in the dim lights
It's showtime
Bedazzled
I quietly sit and watch the magical scenes unfold*#
Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 4:16 PM UTC
The wet sand, cools my
bare feet, my eyes look-
out as the sun sets
into the west, wresting
my tension, as small
waves lap at my toes,
tickling taking me
back to childhood day-
dreams.
A ship silhouettes
in the sinking sun,
I am sure, I see
the funeral pyre
boats, of every
warrior ancestor,
lit burning brighter
as sunlight becomes
night, and I am left
scenting smoke, my open
arms reach over the
present sea and great
ocean *that is the
past,* asking,
am I worthy?
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 1:51 AM UTC
I may not do things traditionally
But I'll get them done eventually
If they're the things that are right for me
I'll be okay and set myself free.
In this life of turbulent strife
pitted and ripe with rotten tripe
a sunlight bright pains my sight
but your soothing ice cools my vice
The aid you paid is not ready made
it gives me hope I'm not just a dope
your love is more than a pity rope,
slivered and raw it gives me splinters
But luckily i'm in for a treat
more than a friend sent to mend
oh yes, you're more, my candy store
settle my sweet tooth you randy *****
unwrap the rainbow you insane *****
ride the rhythm of my *** prism
a rod shaped crystal built like a missile
cocked locked and loaded it cant miss-ya.
explodin' and remoldin' the fabric of time
an infinite blanket wraps us entwined
in a frantic romantic purely satanic
ritual of reality, the utmost sensuality.
Jun 20, 2013
Jun 20, 2013 at 11:51 AM UTC
You make my skin crawl,
Like writhing maggots beneath,
Like the innocent child's scrawls,
Tainting my canvas, my skin.
Your words, they pierce me,
Like the ***** of a needle.
Caressing, so fatally,
Over the scarred, raised skin,
The years of mistreat,
Has treated me harsh,
Showing meat so starved,
Brittle bones over skin.
The world! Such a joke,
Made of him, her and you.
My existence, mere smoke,
Our stories, nothing but skin.
For skin show where we've traversed,
The roads we have trod,
A beautiful canvas,
Of cools, brights and skin.
I am proud of my masterpiece,
It's whittled into my skin.
From the lines embossed to my chest,
To the intricate blend of colors,
The white spiraling scars,
Etched deeper than skin.
Here I stand,
Here I scream.
Proud of the bands,
That bind me as one, my skin.
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 9:03 PM UTC
I'm trembling, but who's to blame:
the dealer
or
the drug?
And, at this point, what's the difference?
I like the way the dealer warms me up, but I like the way the drug cools me down. I like the way they both make me crazy, but I love how they keep me sane. I love the way they whisper everything, but at night, they scream my name. I like the way the drug kisses my insides, and the dealer covers my skin. I love the way the drug feels like a virtue, and the dealer is nothing more than a sin.
I like the way this addiction is going, but I hate it all the same.
I wouldn't mind the dealer, if he wasn't the same place from which the drug came.
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 10:32 PM UTC
The sun dips,
behind the mountain,
behind the treeline,
into the
blue
The way I wish you would.
Your eyes,
the colour of evergreens
drenched in dawn
& gilded
the afterglow,
the embers of the day
fading & strong,
reminding me of another
day, with you
& without you
I know, you know
no one is
perfect,
but, do you
know?
Here?
In Here?
I'm scared this might be the
closest
any one of us gets
Here.
You & me.
Dive into the
fear
so I can take your hand
& walk barefoot
while everyone we love
sleeps,
while the night cools the
earth
& we're drunk off the
scent
of a true midsummer night's
dream
When will you finally
tell me,
certain as the dew
that kisses the morning,
that the only lips
you want mine to
touch
are yours?
Because I can feel your
rhythm,
the way a breeze can tell of a
storm
Lean into me.
As we take in the
beauty
that surrounds us,
so I can put my head on your shoulder
& rest easy
hearing your heart beat
Because mine
beats for
you.
Tell me you'll find me
when the time is
right
Because I'll wait for you.
The endless
grey abyss of winter,
painful & biting & testing
I'll wait for you like
I wait for
spring
Because you are the
deep evening sky
& I am the coral clouds
as the sun dips,
behind the mountain,
behind the treeline,
into the
blue
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 2:00 PM UTC
a little boy sits on
the top of a staircase
his laden, waterlogged
eyelashes droop
his vision fogs
with salt
his heart pulses hot/cool
snowmelt
throughout the body
there are missing
people
no mother
no father
no brother
only boy
locked in house
too scared to sleep
while snowflakes
fall in unfettered
air
*there is joy in storm
if one can see it
through the tears
there is comfort
to be had once
the emotion cools
and tree branches are
unburdened from the
weight of ice*
movement happens
up the stairs
dear sister
who the boy forgot
was there
places her hand
upon the boy’s
quivering back
*"We call it snow
when the parts of God,
too small to bear, contest our bodies"*
and angels tell us
to taste the tears
before they freeze
on our red-rubbed
noses
here, taste your tears
says sister.
they’re salty, aren’t they?
Sep 4, 2017
Sep 4, 2017 at 12:13 PM UTC
i go through this daily plot
waking, working, trudging
first world ease, office walls
wheeled chairs
afternoon run
tupperware lunch
dinner the night before
home again, dinner
dishes again,
play again,
daughter picks up
new phrases, new looks
vegetable strainer toy
"umbrella," she says
i see those eyes, my wife's
and i wonder
what is this place?
these walls, these roads,
those sitka pines and shrinking
glaciers?
how 'm i supposed to be a father
with all these things stretching out
vaster than reason, than comprehension
those talking heads, ranting this or that
liberty's ***** freedom's snatched,
the world warms, the world cools
Filipinos scream in the face of angry
winds, the prim cut weatherman wildly
gestures at a colorful map, powerful
he says, historic
he says
more dripping mouthes,
government want guns now,
more money to ****** our phones
to send unmanned drones
our president's muhammad,
or jesus, or kenyan, or raciest
a genius or incompetent
everyone knows
just back home
a tiny algae grows and foams
thrashing in the autumn water
brown oxygen choking life
never found on our shores before
kills fish,
i imagine so much more
i hold my daughter in my lap
reading mother goose,
run my hand through her
thin smooth hair,
sometimes afraid
of what she'll see and hear
with her mother's eyes
and her father's ears
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 3:10 AM UTC
Deeper than love, deeper than me
deeper and deeper and deeper she pleads
maybe too deep that I think she's a freak
maybe too deep in the deep-end again
so deep, this time, I come across her weak
hold her close
feel her breathe
chest rise, and rise collapse
at my feet, eclipsed
in her eyes they rinse and hang me
so short lived, I wish
she could still be, I wish she believed
the same wind shaking trees
chopping waves, cools the sea, shifting clouds
til sunray-bounce off your melanin hip
- mountain range in you, snow-capped
dissolving into sea salt-spray
perfume on Cloth
grapes under foot.
I can never confuse one season for her.
-b mafika
Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 5:20 PM UTC
Today I stared at The Scream
And am proud to say,
I understand what it means.
Seconds,
Days,
Minutes,
Nights.
The Scream represents
Immortal life.
And who really wants to live
To be one hundred years old?
To see the world they know,
slowly go?
I've seen Death,
on multiple occasions...
He tells me it's okay
To feel this sort of pain.
Deep down it burns,
but it cools my skin.
Your words...
Unable to keep me in.
And who really wants to live
To be one hundred years old?
When there's nothing to do,
but grow cold?
Gently pour your tears on my eyes.
The feeling is great.
It reminds me of the sky,
Like your hair reminded me
of being naive.
These feelings are mine,
As you stab me in my side.
And who really wants to live
To be one hundred years old?
Memories still in mind;
What torment for every burning soul.
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 8:11 PM UTC
~
Of light at play…day’s end, to cease
Now mirrored of a rippled sea
Casting long in shadowed dreams
A drifting silhouette…at peace
Sail on, sail on,
currents feed this destined course
Arcs, spun gold…on dance card wings
Lemon dust, the sifted sound
Framed of flowing tangerine
Silence sings…as truth is found
Sail on, sail on,
captured breezes…quiet source
Abstract waves…in curtained sweep
Drape this ocean’s fantasy
Melodic so the depth to breathe
Champagne tints the tapestry
Sail on, sail on,
horizon’s beckoned rendezvous
Citrine jeweled on zephyr’s flight
Calmly cools in twilight feel
Motions quell the rhythm’d night
Beliefs this sun shall soon conceal
Sail on, sail on,
as daylight disappears from view
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 9:54 AM UTC
There was once a small, dying flower
Her beauty was dim
Thoughts trapped her from deep below
The roots that held her down made it hard to grow
She lived a life of solitude
No other flowers blossomed beside her
Her sweet aroma nobody smelt
In the lonely landscape in which she dwelt
But then there came a day when something happened
The piercing blue sky changed into oyster silver
And as the flower proceeded to slowly die in pain
The miracle came. Rain.
The rain fell from the sky like liquid jewels
Each drop nourished the flower
Although the rain didn’t realize at first
It had helped the flower overcome the worst
Through the air the rain and flower shared silent whispers
The rain understood the flower’s dying condition
The flower was relieved that someone else knew
Of the deep trauma that everyday grew
For many weeks the rain showered on
To help the flower continue to be strong
But the rain didn’t know of the flower’s underground roots
The rain wanted to know but the flower kept them as emotional loots
One day another accompanied the rain
A being called sunshine, a beaming white light
Though slight droppings of rain spluttered down from the sky
The flower was inevitably starting to die
The flower didn’t want the rain to know
How dependent she was of her nurturing
The flower stood while its immunity could run
As the rain started to fade into the sun
The flower should be glad that the rain started to calm
For the rain carried pain and distress from far above
So the flower carried the trauma and rejection
Into the roots where she was bullied by her reflection
The sun was kindhearted, pure and bright
It shone optimism and grace to all in its range
It was actually a key to the flower’s survival
But neglect and jealously made her the rival
The flower started to push the rain away
She didn’t want to hold the rain back from serenity
So the rain dripped off the darkening petals
As the flower wishes, the rain cools and settles
The rain disappeared in the light of the sun
Creating a spectrum of colours bleeding across the sky
The flower sighed in relief of the petrichor
As the flower died, and became no more.
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 11:23 PM UTC
***Green hills covered
In a cloak of sparkling dewdrops
Like jewels cast among the green
Glittering in the warm sunshine
As smooth as pearls from the ocean
Hidden under the sea-covered ground
Green meadows
Full of dancing flowers
Kissed by the sunlight
And enchanted by the Moon
Green leaves
For making iced tea
That cools us off in summertime
And green mint
Fresh from the garden
To make mint iced tea
Green grass and catnap
Is a kitty's treat
Along with green herbs
From the garden
Green leaves
On the tree
Are like a fan
Cooling me off
When the wind blows
Green trees
Are a bird's delight
Where they can build their nest
Green stems on the flowers sweet
And green bramble
Green bushes
Planted here and there
Green ferns
Dancing by the creek
Paints a poetic picture
Hunter green moss
Fills the Forest with beauty
Green palm trees
Stand proudly on
The tropical islands
Ivy green
Climbs a walls
And creates a winter scene
Green pairies
Covered in green grass
I just love this
Green
Earth!***
~Marian~
May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 2:21 PM UTC
a lake of blood is promised
homes fill with fiber optic prophecy.
"put away your lenses children and sleep under the lamp's shade."
our purple rice growing
Vishnu mumbles and stirs in his sleep.
by the crystal pond, a poison frog sings.
decorating the sand and reeds are skeletons of the old wars.
nearly dust now.
unable to make decisions for the weak or young, the strong or the old.
four seasons yet to pass
attention given to the wolf's lonesome cry.
place your head in sand,
witness the scorpion.
she is
emperor and admonisher.
the tiger breathes in and breathes out its final breath.
lay your belly upon wheat and remove hunger.
an angel's velvet wing cools the fever,
the old sickness of Old Salem.
onions, apples & lemons are sprouting.
there, just underneath the horseman's hood.
quickly, look.
Sep 9, 2018
Sep 9, 2018 at 1:24 PM UTC
Right before the thunderstorm
Clouds of grey line the sky
The breezes stir even a little
And rustle through the tall, tall pines
Leaves are scattered on the ground
The scent of rain fills the air
The stifling hot summer day
All of a sudden cools off
The wind picks up
And the sky is black with rage
Green leaves and twigs and small branches
Are flying through the air
Lightening flashes vibrantly
And thunder follows right behind with a crash
That ear splitting "boom" makes me jump and cringe
Rain suddenly pours from the heavens
And it roars upon the roof
Raindrops wash the porch
Of any dust or summer dirt
The ground tries its best to drink the rain
Yet still leaves puddles all around
The sun shines and then fades again
And the sky turns blackish-bluer still
Until that familiar sound of thunder
Startles me and makes me frightened
Thunderstorms are dark, yet lovely
And scary, yet beautiful
I guess I like thunderstorms
But just am afraid of them
~Marian~
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 8:37 AM UTC
Don't be late
dip your toes fast.
It's up to you
if you want to do it
at the same time
when the day too
melts down into
one more pith dark
finishing line.
The twilight has a
lot to digest then
as one more day
cools off into it's bold
deep painting splash
make sure you go first.
Before the waxing moon
scurries to the sea
looking for it's mirror
on the deep shady water
only to discover
zillions overlooking stars
are already there!
Jul 21, 2022
Jul 21, 2022 at 11:02 PM UTC
Is this everything now, the quick delusions of flowers,
And the down colors of the bright summer meadow,
The soft blue spread of heaven, the bees' song,
Is this everything only a god's
Groaning dream,
The cry of unconscious powers for deliverance?
The distant line of the mountain,
That beautifully and courageously rests in the blue,
Is this too only a convulsion,
Only the wild strain of fermenting nature,
Only grief, only agony, only meaningless fumbling,
Never resting, never a blessed movement?
No! Leave me alone, you impure dream
Of the world in suffering!
The dance of tiny insects cradles you in an evening radiance,
The bird's cry cradles you,
A breath of wind cools my forehead
With consolation.
Leave me alone, you unendurably old human grief!
Let it all be pain.
Let it all be suffering, let it be wretched-
But not this one sweet hour in the summer,
And not the fragrance of the red clover,
And not the deep tender pleasure
In my soul.
4.2k
You’re frightened but, there is no need for fear.
Your eyes are barely open.
Your vision is blurred beneath your thickened lashes.
Blinded, you are.
Hazed, you are.
Sick, you are.
Lying on the minted tile floor,
back arched and your cheek pressed to a faded rug,
you roll on your side.
Tilting your head up, you moan.
The vicious pulse begins pounding your wounded head.
You roll again on your shrunken stomach,
bubbling over with an ocean of alcohol.
You drag your eyes up to the piercing light above you.
Adjusting yourself slowly,
your hands fumble for the floor beneath you.
The muscles in your arm strain as you push yourself to sit.
No strength.
The stained bathtub provides something stable to grasp.
Smeared makeup.
Hair stuck to your hollow face.
Memories scattering in the wind outside.
More pounding, but this time it isn’t in your head.
It’s booming outside the door.
Screaming and movement is caving in on you,
suffocating you.
Who’s outside?
What’s outside?
"It's okay”, he says “You’re fine now.”
You turn and stare.
How long has he been here?
He’s been watching you the entire time.
He knows something.
He’s done something to you.
That’s why your in this frightening room below the ground.
He stands and walks towards you.
You must stay strong.
Don’t flinch.
No weakness.
A gentle arm glides just under your leg
and the other behind your waist.
He lifts you up and a small whimper escapes your lips.
There’s pain.
He carries you into a familiar room through another door.
The pounding from outside grows softer.
Shoulders relax.
Forehead cools.
Sleepiness comes.
He sits on the bed with you in his lap.
Suddenly your alertness fades and you feel comforted.
“How much did you drink?” He asks timidly.
You lean your head back.
Funny.
“Just a little”,
your words slur from your swollen tongue.
You start to giggle.
Arms begin to sweat.
Stomach tightens.
Puke.
Tears.
Hushed.
“Shh now. You’re fine. It’s alright. Breathe. Breathe.”, He coo's
and slowly strokes your spine.
Tensions released.
He stands and walks to the door.
“No! Come back!”, You cry.
He’s leaving.
Why?
You reach your hand out,
like a child,
but draw it back quickly.
“Haven’t I always come back? This time is no different.”
Only a second passes and you’re out.
Not all the way.
Eyes closed.
A window opens.
The fan goes on.
A blanket covers you.
He’s there.
Jun 4, 2012
Jun 4, 2012 at 9:15 PM UTC
Sundays come and Sundays goes
Monday follows Sundays,
Monday brings with it a brand new week,
Some times Monday brings with it rain.
Mondays some times has sunny days,
The sun is nice and bright,
Autumn brings with it Indian Summers,
warm days and cooler nights.
I hear the thunderstorms come through,
It cools off all the week,
It makes it a lot more comfortable
for everyone to sleep.
Oct 9, 2011
Oct 9, 2011 at 7:11 PM UTC