"cress" poems
When the boy said.
"I love you"
I nearly wept the tears which have been filling since the last one left,
Unsure of my feelings I turn away and look to the ground,
Searching,
For something,
To distract myself,
I see the garbage, with the used wrappers from our affairs,
Wondering, maybe that's why,
Because why would a boy love me for any other reason but my body?
Because I have been taught to beware those three words,
For those are the words which are spoken when he wants more,
More than your touch,
Or cress,
But your lips,
His, on you hips,
For when the boy said "I love you"
I was confused and concerned,
Because why would he,
Could he,
Love someone like me.
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 11:23 PM UTC
I first tasted under Apollo's lips,
love and love sweetness,
I, Evadne;
my hair is made of crisp violets
or hyacinth which the wind combs back
across some rock shelf;
I, Evadne,
was made of the god of light.
His hair was crisp to my mouth,
as the flower of the crocus,
across my cheek,
cool as the silver-cress
on Erotos bank;
between my chin and throat,
his mouth slipped over and over.
Still between my arm and shoulder,
I feel the brush of his hair,
and my hands keep the gold they took,
as they wandered over and over,
that great arm-full of yellow flowers.
2.8k
Enveloped with pine-
Stretched across statelines:
Beauteous blue upon envious emerald
Pooled amongst royal white mountains
Adorned with grey jewels of centuries
Emitting sweet, earthy aroma
She caresses the land.
Mother to lakes hidden by her red fir,
Provider to the fiery yellow cress
Hydrant for all animals alike.
M(ama) Rose keeps a chary eye
on her joint creation:
The provider, the mother,
The revered, grandiose puddle
is threatened by scarcity.
The royal white mountains,
Remain royal- but lack frost,
And thus the water retreats
Shriveling back 13 feet from shoreline
This once sacrosanct lake---
Devastated.
Keep Tahoe Blue?
Keep Tahoe Wet.
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 1:36 AM UTC
The Baker's Tale
They roused him with muffins--they roused him with ice--
They roused him with mustard and cress--
They roused him with jam and judicious advice--
They set him conundrums to guess.
When at length he sat up and was able to speak,
His sad story he offered to tell;
And the Bellman cried "Silence! Not even a shriek!"
And excitedly tingled his bell.
There was silence supreme! Not a shriek, not a scream,
Scarcely even a howl or a groan,
As the man they called ** told his story of woe
In an antediluvian tone.
"My father and mother were honest, though poor--"
"Skip all that!" cried the Bellman in haste.
"If it once becomes dark, there's no chance of a Snark--
We have hardly a minute to waste!"
"I skip forty years," said the Baker in tears,
"And proceed without further remark
To the day when you took me aboard of your ship
To help you in hunting the Snark.
"A dear uncle of mine (after whom I was named)
Remarked, when I bade him farewell--"
"Oh, skip your dear uncle!" the Bellman exclaimed,
As he angrily tingled his bell.
"He remarked to me then," said that mildest of men,
"'If your Snark be a Snark, that is right:
Fetch it home by all means--you may serve it with greens
And it's handy for striking a light.
"'You may seek it with thimbles--and seek it with care--
You may hunt it with forks and hope;
You may threaten its life with a railway-share;
You may charm it with smiles and soap--'"
("That's exactly the method," the Bellman bold
In a hasty parenthesis cried,
"That's exactly the way I have always been told
That the capture of Snarks should be tried!")
"'But oh, beamish nephew, beware of the day,
If your Snark be a Boojum! For then
You will softly and suddenly vanish away,
And never be met with again!"
"It is this, it is this that oppresses my soul,
When I think of my uncle's last words:
And my heart is like nothing so much as a bowl
Brimming over with quivering curds!
"It is this, it is this--" "We have had that before!"
The Bellman indignantly said.
And the Baker replied "Let me say it once more.
It is this, it is this that I dread!
"I engage with the Snark--every night after dark--
In a dreamy delirious fight:
I serve it with greens in those shadowy scenes,
And I use it for striking a light:
"But if ever I meet with a Boojum, that day,
In a moment (of this I am sure),
I shall softly and suddenly vanish away--
And the notion I cannot endure!"
1.5k
Beneath my bed I placed some bread
and on it spread some jam
added some cheese and mushy peas
salami eggs and ham
a blob of sauce mustard of course
and relish three days old
some chips and dips and cherry lips
and baked beans full of mold
there's water cress and what a mess
of earwax and a scab
my used band aid from second grade
and frogspawn from the lab
I topped it off with lager froth
and nose hairs from the sink
and if you thought the food was bad
don't ask what's in his drink.
Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 8:06 AM UTC
Beneath my bed I placed some bread
and on it spread some jam
added some cheese and mushy peas
salami eggs and ham
a blob of sauce mustard of course
and relish three days old
some chips and dips and cherry lips
and baked beans full of mold
there's water cress and what a mess
of earwax and a scab
my used band aid from second grade
and frogspawn from the lab
I topped it off with lager froth
and nose hairs from the sink
and if you thought the food was bad
don't ask what's in his drink.
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 10:03 PM UTC
A forked tongue is in the East,
She sings to my in the early Dawn,
Of the Sun's how Fire and the morning Dew,
Of red, red Rock and a howling Gale.
Her Mountains rounded, the sweetest *******
Her water hidden down in the Cress,
Her light is blinding, the morning Sun,
Her hair is tossed in a howling Gale.
In the West a straight tongue sleeps,
He rises late and strongly grows,
His Mountains sharp of granite strong,
His voice a roaring, howling Gale.
His hair is Lodgepole, growing strong,
His shoulders sharp and granite strong,
From among him strong rivers flow,
And from his mouth, a howling Gale.
For Power flows from West to East,
A howling Gale that never stops,
Over Mountains and across prairie wide,
And back to Mountains, his morning Bride.
There is a union, where West meets East,
A copulation, a uniting Power,
In the valley, the very core,
Where Power blossoms forevermore.
And there is sits, the seat of Power,
Where West meets East down in the bower,
Where Northern Cold and Southern Heat,
Come together in the howling Gale.
Jul 8, 2012
Jul 8, 2012 at 12:57 PM UTC
you are swirling pools
of azure, and i am the
noiseless motion of the
sea, and we shout into
the nothingness. you
are foam upon the
crest of a wave, and
i am a shell stuck in
the sand; always
shifting, but never to
disappear. you are tepid
vapor rising from the
sea, and i am sea cress
on the coast, both
clouding vision in one
instant, vanishing in
another. you are the
dipping sun, orange
as it drowns, and i am
shafts of red, flowing
over and spilling onto
warms sands, and we
both go down
together.
Aug 25, 2016
Aug 25, 2016 at 5:02 AM UTC
An addict in the attic
speaking in cryptic tongues
with mystic strums of my sadistic slumps
for i am the ******* son
born of the blood of the gun
the rage of the dumb
direct descendant of a sociopath ***
eternally stunned
Jul 5, 2012
Jul 5, 2012 at 10:55 PM UTC
With its sinuous green edge and its delicately
decorative white venation this dewy cress laid
on a fine crystal platter would fit well next to that
chunk of cement facade ensconced in a vitrine
at the Art Institute’s new Louis Sullivan exhibition
There’s little cause to wonder why these particular
atoms once afloat on inchoate seas and awash
in the hummed mumbles of humble vibrations
chose to decohere into this one captivating pattern
from among an infinite variety of mattered schemes
even limiting their choicest range to those paired
colors A tree frog for example its narrow lime toes
suctioned on a broad leaf and its watchful pearl
eyes misconfigured with a blind spot too soon
exploited by a beak spouted peril Or the gallant rider
in uniform myrtle and mounted atop an albino steed
who at a mirthless gallop through routed troops
delivers this message Mother I am so far away
from everything They’re oddly jarred couplings but
with any choice whether slapdash had or carefully
considered what’s our guarantee it will live up to
the iron of romantically clad expectations I have
heard It’s always the salad that gets you in the end
Sep 23, 2010
Sep 23, 2010 at 9:45 AM UTC
When the fragile music dies
you put away your voice,
and with the passion
of Campion’s songs
still running in our veins
there is another duet,
and so intense its harmony
that only the need for food
brings it to a ritardando.
In the dark kitchen
I cut the crusts from brown bread,
making sandwiches, cream-cheesed,
the sliced cucumus sativus
flecked with mint and cress,
and placed on blue plates,
surrounded by olives, grapes
- an apricot apiece.
Then for the coda:
(in the bluest of blue bowls)
musk strawberries lounging
on a bed of rubus idaeus.
We troop upstairs
with our matching plates,
and I lay the Welsh-woolled rug
on the studio floor.
We place beside them
heavy glasses of mint and honeyed tea,
and eat immediately, hungrily.
Later, still aflame
from such music and its crystalled verse,
we lie amidst the studio tea
making sure we are not fiction, but wholly real.
You say, ‘Perhaps raspberry is the new fig’.
and place this fruit between my lips.
Dec 13, 2012
Dec 13, 2012 at 2:25 AM UTC
My side of the singled bed
is large and needy,
old and tweedy.
A mess of a mass
cast of colour.
Her side of the single bed
is neat and slim,
twisted and trim.
A cress by the crass
man of monsters.
Mar 31, 2010
Mar 31, 2010 at 7:49 AM UTC
Yes I think you
a woman that likes silver not gold
unless the gold might cress your hand,
your colour is green
bright like your personality
and your hair is almost Black or should be
and your heart beats on to disco sounds
T HA NK you Liz, Beth Elizzy.
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 7:08 PM UTC
Janice of red beret fame
with fair hair
to her shoulders
and dressed slightly better
than the rest
of there about
invited you
(with your mother’s
permission
and her gran’s invitation)
to tea after school
in the upstairs apartment
not far away
what did you want
for eats and drink?
Janice asked
bread and jam
you replied
bread and jam?
she repeated
as if you’d asked
for caviar on toast
no you must
have more than that
she said
Gran what’s for eats?
and her gran
came into the lounge
where the cosy furniture
was set out in place
neat and tidy
with a canary
in a cage
on a stand
and her gran related
a list of things
you could have
far exceeding
what you usually
had at home
cheese and cress
sandwiches
you said
please added on
as an afterthought
and Janice
had the same
to be like you
and her gran went off
and Janice said
she likes you
says you have more breeding
than some round here
o
you said
thanks
and you pushed
your hand
through your hair
and pulled
your school jumper
in place
and tightened
the tie
we’re going
to the fairground Saturday
will you come too?
you hesitated
and took in
her fair hair
and her fine features
and prim gaze
I’ll have to see
what my mum says
you uttered
o she won’t mind
Gran’s already
mentioned it I think
Janice said
well yes then
you said
I’d like that
she smiled
and spoke
of learning French
at school
and the teacher
who took her
for that and history
she’s a dear
and positively a beauty
I’ve got Ashdown
and she’s plump
and has an ****
like a hippo
you said
Janice choked
and sputtered
with laughter
all at the same time
that’s so rude
she said
putting her small hand
to her mouth
gosh don’t let Gran
hear to speak like that
or you’ll be off
her good boy list
as swift as lightening
you sat bemused
when her gran came in
with two plates
of sandwiches
what’s so funny?
she asked
putting the plates
on the table
o nothing much
Janice said
Benedict told me
a little joke
o well as long
as it wasn’t rude
Gran said
o no
Janice said
and looked at you
o no
you muttered
just a innocent joke
from school
her gran went off
to get the drinks
if Gran heard me
say thinks like that
she’d tan my backside
and no mistake
Janice took a bite
of her sandwich
and you ate yours
listening to the canary
sing and the bell it
rung inside the cage
and her gran singing
from the kitchen
in a soprano voice
and you took in
Janice’s light blue eyes
wherein you thought
but did not say
some good part
of beauty lies.
May 24, 2013
May 24, 2013 at 3:11 AM UTC
Recircled czars drenched
In the blood of despotic swayers.
Encircled proteges with the
Aura of treacherous thorns
Keeping vigils in the basilica
Of authority
Year in,
Year out .
Selfsame partners in politics,
Selfsame partners in crimes,
Selfsame partners in progress
Selfsame partners in poor
governance,
Setting subservient subjects
In perilous bays of hopelessness.
Scale of disengagement
Dangling carrots of
Intimidating threats.
Recircled ideas.
Recircled inhuman governance.
Recircled personages.
Recircled wasted years.
Deluge of prognostic plans
Sinking boats of tale.
Decades of experience yielding
Inexperienced tzars.
Torn garb of treachery
Covered up blazers of falsehood.
Stench of stasis enthroned on the
Stool of power, wrenching
corruption from the grip
of guilt.
Populace sitting on sulky
directing the horse of
hardship with the
wailful whips of
perseverance.
Epochal terms of wastages
roll in
and
roll out
like a spiraling
viperine grass
snake
beneath the
hybrids of weeds
on a crest of
spring cress.
Yet, promises promoting
Superannuated gains of
Effortless dividend.
Feb 14, 2019
Feb 14, 2019 at 2:53 PM UTC
One headlight
To guide me to your warm
Embrace.
One last chance
To feel your breath cress down
My face.
One more time
Before I head out the door from this
Ephemeral place.
Two, momentarily, become one, and I Savor the seconds as if it were the
Final taste.
Sep 27, 2013
Sep 27, 2013 at 12:40 AM UTC
I brought the sandwiches,
you brought the drinks.
M&S; and cress,
cans of Coke
from the local Spar.
Kids on the football pitch,
their shouts rising like bullets.
Mrs. Smith from number 33
walked her collie - waved.
Rain came. ‘Typical’, you said.
So we bundled up our stuff
as if the end of a holiday,
then in your house
we unbundled it again
onto the living room floor
with our hair still wet
and watching E4.
Oct 11, 2016
Oct 11, 2016 at 3:22 PM UTC
You introduced me to your demon, it was the only way to save me
But you knew as beautiful as she was, her touch was beastly
****** was her sweet name
She came and saved me from the pain
She lead me back from the ledge
She made still the razors edge
You knew the dance that she could do
She had saved you too
She knew how to comfort the bereft
She knew how to take away, what the agony had left
You knew she could comfort in her darken cress
She knew how your soul to undress
You knew I would want her more
You knew leaving her was more than a chore
You pried her nails out of the vains in my arms
Accepting her proposal would only bring harm
You knew if I stayed to long
It would all go wrong
For you had been there when she banged her gong
You had lost years in her clutch
All you wanted for me was just feel a small touch
Just to shift my gaze from the knife
To let my body and mind escape the strife
You knew her kiss was quite alarming
It would leave me with a longing
Once under my skin she would create an itch
But you wasn't ready to lose me to deaths dark abyss
So you let her give me just a kiss
Now the longing for her touch is not hard to miss
It was jut another demon I had to meet
Listen up you can hear her dark beat
It was just another door I had to walk into
To understand what others go through
The more darkness I endure
Leaves me knowing for sure
You can not judge another's plight
Or how they choose to fight their fight
In this game there is no wrong or right
Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 6:08 PM UTC
Shine against cool winter’s skin
Breath in place of crackling voice
The room has been awoken with footsteps
Behind a veil of black the eyes are left hushed
She felt him, electricity buzzed
Silently
The motions felt swift, though lingered on cress
Little glimpses, flashforwards to each motion
Sparks
Electric candlelight burns at edge
The eye of the hurricane ascended
Lifted
She felt him, his hands like silk
His touch greeted her, she fell
Into the skeleton of the room
Confined to their space of absolute
Stars outlined edges, moments left to soak
She could see without sight
Each spin of the record
Each hum of the base
Comforted by quilt, entangled in skin
Dec 26, 2018
Dec 26, 2018 at 11:15 PM UTC
She was calling
I could hear it
She was so close
I could taste her breathe
Visualize her smell
My senses were tangling
Her form was breath taking
Her grasp on me was
Of another nature
I was of her making
Her lips were pale
The feel of them left me
Mesmerize
In another dimension
A slave
Working the manors
Of her body
No
It wasn’t rational
It was somewhat
Inefficient
She required more
Desired more
Treasured
Cherished
She couldn’t get enough of me
I was her craving
To her
Oxygen was irrelevant
I
Me
I was her
Everything
But yet
She was always livid
Moving with relentless emotion
Every time she danced
I felt a swipe of wind
Tear my face
Length to length
A smile made a path
But
I wasn’t happy with this
This
What I’d become
I was furious
I wish I could have said no
But she
Her presence removed all illness
Unwillingly she was the puppeteer master
I was made of wood and had to be held
Up
By her hands
She held the strings to my existence
I had let her cress me
Make me into the one she wanted
I let her do as she so pleased
But even that
That
Was no good
I had given up just
When she
She had given all
I was thru
She had just began
I guess two opposites really do attract
I couldn’t get enough
Enough of her touch
Her smell
I tried telling myself I was done
With her
With these lies
These games we play
But I just couldn’t get enough
As much as I hate to admit it
I loved her
With everything in me
I loved her
You see that “loved”
Past tense
Cause at some point I
I worked up the courage to say no
Ended those unpleasing nights
I grew tired of it all and finally said no
I wasn’t hers and she wasn’t mine
I was simply the fool she toyed with
At night, of course
But
Somewhere
Something
Inside I missed her
And it grew and grew with great force
Until I wasn’t there anymore
There was none of me left to miss her
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 10:24 AM UTC
i remember sitting on the lap of my future
as he stroked the lining of my waist
i remember the vast exhales
that tickled the hairs on my neck
i remember faint whispers in my ear
telling me everythings gonna be alright
as we played doctor in the dark
i'll miss the innocent smiles
sparkling ****** eyes
hope
but
i got no
cherry to pop
i was ****** from the start
Feb 6, 2011
Feb 6, 2011 at 7:02 PM UTC
Lying in nights true form
I saw you beneath me; the bees began to swarm
Tasting the trails of where finders have lead
Ecstasy leaning to worlds untread
Marks to deliver such sweet sound
Pounding hearts beat as movements confound
Show to me this sweet child of night
What lips have shown each chase cause me fright
I shutter under melodies of hot cress
oh darling you have pocessed my breath
Arches and bones have created your path
Lead me to the promise land and show no wrath
Curves sway as the seas begin to crash
Meet me at the high point, watch it thrash
Dear somber veil
Intertwine the wreaths forming moaned laurels
Little by little each touch shows quarrels
frivolous children under satin minds
Laced with faucets, wax, and rinds
Nov 9, 2018
Nov 9, 2018 at 10:27 PM UTC