"cumuli" poems
There's something about
that new weatherlady
in her form-fitting dress
not too short or so long
she's got that Kardashian
thang going on
******* like cumuli
waiting on a strong
Southern breeze
to stir up a warm front.
:)
Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 8:12 AM UTC
I close my eyes
Try to sleep
I see a wave of ink
A cloud of black
In water
No rhyme
No poem or verse
I'm going blind
I need a nurse
******* like cumuli
Hips as wide as a nautical mile
To get me back to sea
To help me see
To make me smile.
r ~ 5/26/14
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 12:29 PM UTC
The day was good,
the sun shining, a breeze
winding around the pines.
Two mockingbirds
were playing
guess me.
Cumuli loitered
above ground shadows
with cats jumping
from one to the other
in a game that only
they understood.
I felt the stirring of precipitate
motion on my cheek as a shadow
passed by whispersing the words
of an old song by Townes
about going down to see Kathleen.
I never meant for it to rain.
r ~ 5/7/14
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 2:36 PM UTC
As I rise, cumuli are my clouds
Purple rippling through hot pinks and gray
Waving to me in tattered shrouds
Above horizon of shadowed trees, come day
Commit to memory ether and solar play
For never could a photograph
Or great master’s paintings depict or imply
Phenomena of heaven’s autograph
Inferiority, obscurity shadowed in my sky
What wondering adrift, now present to eyes
Sensational this morning’s vividness
Ballyhoo applauds first light of dawning
Awestruck I am within this immanence
Call forth flash of conception spawning
Clearest notion of earthbound belonging
Apr 22, 2016
Apr 22, 2016 at 4:58 AM UTC
losing nothing
light's dispersion
through cumuli
Apr 29, 2018
Apr 29, 2018 at 12:46 PM UTC
scattershot strikes as a shattered damocloid
sending warning ripples through clouds
glimpses of sundered villages atop cumuli
not a gasp among the crowd
Jul 1, 2022
Jul 1, 2022 at 5:11 AM UTC
I give the kiss of death
to a fuming roll of paper,
puffing out the siphoned life,
shaping gossamers of ourselves
in the air. But the wind,
it messes us up.
The only artist it knows is itself.
It's magnum opus is the perpetual
molding of cumuli of ephemeral and temporal.
Once more, I **** a breath of solace,
and release a hint of relief.
I cast my oneiric world:
soundless, so my fears and worries will remain unspoken;
shadowless, so my courage and love won't remain hidden.
We take form once more,
but again displaced.
But the smoke will not roam across space.
It will drift to me, to choke these reveries,
and banish them through violent coughs.
Our togetherness is nothing more
than an ethereal form.
The wind, after all,
gives the kiss of death.
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 11:59 AM UTC
stone walls breathe
glossed ice these mornings:
the churches and bedside
table depots, the detwined
compression of intermittent
glances scattered, the quiet
moments of stationary
departure through localized
clusters of stretching limbs,
stark and barely alive,
pausing in the coming
season's absence.
slowly
wondering what it's like;
to unfold spring at your side, to
let lonelinesses bloom at the
tips of branched fingers and
wash away, to be standing
down there, on the fresh sky,
cutting new droplets out of
beach-long cumuli.
Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 4:25 AM UTC
O' to thee this heart belongeth, to thee I layeth down all; exposed, unclothed, in spiritual configuration I'm raw. O' tis with thee I standeth tall, in sainthood hall's, erstwhile ripped and mauled; now reincarnated by thine enchanting call. I'm glorified, in thy eye's I taketh a dive; and splash. Inside thine dusky vision's I've found riches, wealth, a stash. A hideaway, wherein I'm faraway on cumuli of better day's, wherein ourn bodies sway, until were old and gray, and we reawake into eternal life. Husband and wife, to where all is right, and we art protected in the almighty author's finger's. A poetess Reyna as thee, and me as thine poet, and singer. Amour' bringer's, jotting dimple's as minstrel's atop holy church steeple's. Welcomed in by conglomerate people's; as we hold eachother's hand's, locking finger's to starlit showers. Tis we hold the key's to intimate and infinite hour's. We passeth the time by rhyme's of divine flower's that canst shimmer on a dime's notice. Unbound as a lotus; opening up ourn feather's.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley ( Filipino rose ) dedication
Nov 28, 2015
Nov 28, 2015 at 2:42 PM UTC
Bee Bee the Bee
Hi everyone; this is Bee Bee.
The two of us are engaged, to bee married. (I’m so pleased!)
We think it’s time to settle down.
We think it’s time to start a family.
I have had my adventures
And somehow I managed to find myself a Queen.
She is so beeautiful!!!
Check out me;
She is so pretty
And me, with this face; it’s now full of smiles, I’m alive!
It’s time to join the rat race once more and build our own hive.
The reason I go to work is to provide for her;
Because seriously dude, look at her!
She is worth all the honey in the hive
And for some strange reason she chose me to fly,
Next to her until we are old and worn out.
I will tell you how much I love her;
No, I will shout!
I love this bee! My Bee Bee!
Bee Bee and me sitting in a leaf,
K-I-S-S-I-N-G…
I am sooo happy!!!
We have been together a while now;
Flown through the darkest rain clouds.
Burst up through the cumuli and nimbus
And held each other tightly as we dropped back down.
We have so many people to love,
But I love her the most;
So please, join me in raising your thimbles
And let us all toast,
The most beautiful bee I have ever seen!
The most beautiful bee there is…Bee Bee.
In our future hive, my honey is her supply,
As she is my honey; look deep into my eyes,
Not around the eyes, deep into my eyes
And you will see my truth, honesty and pride.
Yes I am with her, because she makes my heart purr.
This sugar rush is more than enough,
To keep me falling in love.
Every day and in every way, I love her more,
Because every day it only gets better and better, my love.
Just when I think I could not love her more,
She says something, or does something, that I simply adore.
She cares so much that I can’t help but love,
Each and every thing that she does.
I could talk to you about her for the rest of my life,
Without ever being bored;
But right now I am in a rush.
You see I need to get back to her smile.
She brightens up my day, my night and forever I’ll,
Bee in love with my Queen.
My Queen Bee Bee.
It has truly been a pleasure talking to you all, I must say,
But the ceremony will soon bee under way
And she would never let me live it down,
If all my talking meant we had to show up to our own wedding late.
(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Jul 5, 2019
Jul 5, 2019 at 5:27 AM UTC
Drifting happily in its sea of mountain air,
Growing heavy, it gives life to the earth,
Rolling hills spotted with evergreens,
Oldman River wizened with the flow of time,
Nature’s wall reaching to the heavens,
Emerald valleys, Castle in the Clouds,
Golden eagle hunts for prey.
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 12:22 PM UTC
You are strong, at least stronger than a group of cumuli
And breathtaking, at least more breathtaking than a beautiful sunrise after seven years spent on a basement
You aren't nothing
You are the air around humankind
You are a bit contaminated --or a lot, doesn't matter-- but you are needed
See? Here are lungs that crave you
Here it is, come to me, live within me, watch me die
*Do you know why they killed the caterpillars?
Do you?*
When exactly did you stop wishing upon a star?
I remember you liked the color blue
I remember you said something about your ex and the moon
I remember you kept saying names that isn't mine
I always wanted to be a butterfly but now I have accepted the truth
I am a scattered winged moth and
I still have seven days left
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 10:45 AM UTC
The wimpled scrolls recede....
The Authors of the braille sands
leave Northern marrow in their wording,
as sharp as Marram grasses bent
in keening subjugation....
Illuminated Sanskrit kelp,
infused with lust of fallen auras,
scrims the weed-green gartered breaks
now shaken from the glaucous mane,
while fleets of stippled cumuli,
( rain-chartered galleons of the West)
in line astern, prepare for war
beyond the deepened brim.
We,- the town-worn Pages- flutter,
drawn to trace the moiling hem,
to pour away into the water....
Salt-preened minions of the wind.
Jun 3, 2016
Jun 3, 2016 at 12:10 AM UTC
It came sweeping over instances
Brushing against subtle moments
Of circumstances and places
We can never quite remember.
It bled through the darkness
Each time the moon rose
And met with her pallid face.
It came with the winds
That suddenly picked up,
As I stood alone, and
Watched the world sway from above.
Through nights of fragmented dreams,
Enveloped through watery thoughts
That awoke me with such prominence,
I had only expected to be at the bottom
Of the saltiest lake.
Refractions of light that would come
Pronging through waves
Breaking sound with immeasurable brightness
From the corner of my eye,
I recognized you.
It was that same foggy hue
Glistening silvery white
A fish jumping in the morning
The ring around the moon
I had recognized on you.
You are different than I,
But white moths keep flocking to me
Cumuli build within my eye sockets
Like a lightning storm over the desert,
Rumbling purple and billowing smoke.
I cannot ignore
How beautiful different is.
Jun 12, 2016
Jun 12, 2016 at 1:29 PM UTC
when clouds
are small
patches of
these quilted
cumuli only
high pressure
from the
seven seas
if this
summer breeze
wilts with
a shower
then their
dusky hours
till dawn
sequestered thus
in alabaster
Jun 27, 2018
Jun 27, 2018 at 9:25 AM UTC
What if I were to conjure a storm
And be met with a fleeting rain?
What if I let a small sob escape
And spilt forth a rogue hurricane?
What if I precipitated a thunder
And heard word of a sweet refrain?
What if Cumuli resolved with Nimbus
To be lighter once again?
Nov 24, 2024
Nov 24, 2024 at 5:54 AM UTC