"cumulous" poems
Go away little wisp.
I know what you are up to.
I pay the slightest notice,
you morph into an innocent, seductive puff
strutting to and fro
offering companionship,
comfort,
yes, even love.
I admire you; you gust, fat and fluffy.
I compliment; you explode into a cumulous mass hovering ominously above.
I worry; ashen gray lithely overtakes beguiling white.
Rumbling belly fills with rage and swells with forboding.
There is no longer an escape.
My thoughts
are pulled into shadow
and slapped onto earth
in torrents of unrestrained rage.
Completely engulfed, I choke, and
swirl in great muddy vortexes down lost drains.
Who am I?
Who are my thoughts?
I only have you to grasp onto,
and that is no solace.
Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 2:37 PM UTC
It begins the same way it ends.
Fluorescent combinations of photonic crystals,
Burning beneath my skin, into my gaping soul.
These are my lights.
Gripping tightly to is base, holding it steady,
Peer through its open lense.
Record each and every moment.
This is my camera, so let it commence.
Take 1.
A mother wails as her baby rolls out.
Physicians stagger in, along with nurses.
NICU is now home to the baby girl who
Came 2 months before she was due.
02/01/1995 - the unforgettable date that
I changed my family’s lives.
Take 2.
Fast forward to when everyone else’s
Nightmare’s become my reality.
The thoughts took over my anatomy,
Constricting blood vessels in my brain
And with every heartbeat those enlarged
Vessels collided with my skull – throbbing.
A rainbow of pasty pills dissolved on my tongue,
Releasing their chemicals into my ocean-like blood stream.
Take 3.
Every waking day had not only become a
Physical struggle but in fact a psychological endeavor.
The thoughts hindered my perception of reality,
Just as cumulous clouds darken the suns light.
Back seat riding with my negativity leading
Me through a tunnel of self-destruction.
Take 4.
Addicted.
To the bottle, the drugs, and the razor blade.
Addicted.
The dullness of the liquor,
The euphoric journey the drugs took me on and,
The intoxicating aroma the blood gave off
As it poured down my wrist
Shaped my addictions to that of self-annihilation.
Those were my Actions.
It ends the same way it began.
Fluorescent combinations of photonic crystals
Burning beneath my skin, into my gaping soul.
Now this is the end.
If my life was a Motion Picture;
I would go back and film it again,
But this time validating true happiness.
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 10:18 PM UTC
There is no place safe on earth
Not the water, air, or the dirt
The water runs with toxic waste
The air wears white cumulous
Smoke stacked poisonous plumes
As for the dirt it is far worse
The ground is scarred by cities
Cement streets wearing steel structures
Plots of death with monument sutures
Sidewalks and brainless billboards
Visual, nasal, and audio static
The only place still safe is space
But I haven’t learn to breathe there yet
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 3:23 PM UTC
This day has a cumulous attitude
Cirrus mixed in with the brood
Actually all kinds of clouds are mixed within
Is this a message from Our Father
Even the Cumulonimbus are on the spin
Teasing to bring forth rain
Stratocumulus are everywhere
Lumped together in rounded masses,
In line and in waves,
Perhaps to fight against such strain which surpasses
We may have to pray
Nimbostratus to bring forth rain
Until then contrails, God has given us, will ease pain
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 8:21 PM UTC
Dante’s dance of death arrives
Sparrows take to air
And massive nimbo-cumulous
Soar to lightnings vivid flare.
The final page is almost read
Incredulous am I
That Lady Luck has touched my soul
Allowing me to cry.
To watch a scarlet sunset sink
Into a sea of green
And feel the chill of evening stroke
My mortal fascade’s sheen.
Cavorting fillies canter
In blue nightfall’s velvet pall
Whilst the crystal tones of crispness
Peal from distant blackbird's call.
The magnificence of feeling
Permeates my very soul
And the factored life impermanence
Magnifies the spirit’s hold.
A sensate wave of gladness
Washes over all I see
And the brilliant joy of being
Lifts the fear of death from me.
Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
21 August 2010
Aug 20, 2010
Aug 20, 2010 at 8:13 PM UTC
A pink sunset
Shines it’s rays over a purple, calm ocean.
The gold of the sun
Shimmers like sparkling fairy dust
Over its tiny ripples.
Cumulous clouds
Express themselves as they sing
Stories of the past in all different colours.
And I stand in joyous sadness,
With a sense of helplessness,
As I surrender to the sheer beauty,
Surrender to the Almighty.
Feb 14, 2021
Feb 14, 2021 at 9:23 PM UTC
Cumulous pillows
of insomniac depravity
drizzle keen pulp
unto the eye, hair wetting
mattress - springing
metal spasms
upon the spine of those
who dream.
Mellow morning
saltily floats up
from morbid
somnambulations
Jun 19, 2018
Jun 19, 2018 at 2:58 PM UTC
The birds, the bees, the flowers, and the trees;
we are all of these.
We are nature- the creative wonders encompassed in a dark world.
We are the free flying hummingbirds whose wings flutter ever so lightly.
We are the bumblebees always in search of pure gold dust.
We are the flowers that bloom each May and die every December.
We are the roots, the leaves, the branches, and the berries of the trees growing in your backyard.
We are all of these,
how long we were fool’d.
The planets, the galaxy, the stars, and the cosmic energy;
we are all of these.
We are the universe- the owners of rented space and borrowed time.
We are the spinning planets giving glory to the sun.
We are the galaxy sharing the same name as our favorite candy bar.
We are the stars that are wished upon by countless hopeless romantics.
We are the force, the colors, the radiance, and the chemical reactions of the cosmic energy your soul emits.
We are all of these,
how long we were fool’d.
The rusty bridges, the flooded valleys, the polluted air, and the sketchy back alleys;
we are all of these.
We are eyesores – the blemishes surrounded by the unexplained beauty.
We are the bridges blistered by acid rain and pigeon waste.
We are the valleys, lost in wondrous mountains that are immersed in water.
We are the air filled with gaseous atoms that hide beneath cumulous clouds.
We are the homeless, the litter, the stray cats, and the flickering lights of the back alley in your glamorous city.
We are all of these,
how long you were fool’d.
We have embodied the good, the bad, and the ugly.
We have embraced the magnificent, the imperfect, and all that is in between.
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 12:30 AM UTC
That beautiful Wind as it howls from the pass
Blowing tussock in waves across hillocks of grass,
Causing red leaves to billow in curtains of fall
To gather in windrows beneath the stone wall,
Where the zephyrs play mischief in colour and swirl
And cascades of leafage fly skyward and whirl.
And the hawthorns sway in that beautiful way
And the reeds all bend in the lake
Where the concentric rings caused by raindrops and things
Cause the surface to shimmer and shake.
That beautiful Wind as it streams through the trees
Brings a tear to my eyes, makes me weak at the knees,
For the patterns of movement, the rhythmical sway
And the roar of the torrent in leafage at play.
And the impact of raindrops, so fresh on my face,
Make me laugh at the wonder of this special place.
And the starlings all heel with immaculate feel
As in thousands, they flock to the trees,
Where with cochophanous joy in full voice they employ
A concierto of birdsong to please
That beautiful Wind when it plays with the clouds
Where the mares tails extend in such glorious shrouds,
Then in furious plight, usually just before night,
Nimbo cumulous flashes electrify bright,
Where the lightening bolt snakes, from on high, where it makes
A most thunderous roar through the sky as it breaks.
With the wind in my hair and without single care
I celebrate Wind with delight
With the sound of the breeze blowing cottonwood trees
And my day turning beautifully night.
Marshalg
Inspired by "The Last Winds" a poem by K, Daniel Little Paw McCreight
@ the Pukehana Paradise
Epsom
23 March 2013
Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 3:16 PM UTC
Big white fluff,
you have no form really but you are every form truly.
Your distinct milky knobs present a welcoming entrance; a "Three's Company" vibe.
I wanted to catapult up to say hi
And ask "What parts of you, were parts of other clouds I've seen?"
I wanted to know where it has been; what it means.
This kind of magnificence is a collaboration.
You strike me through the glass as I wind around the pass.
I know there is more that I am missing.
Your colors may be richer, crisper but as I see you now
is blissful–
Orange, pink and bright white hues surround the few cues you are giving me,
that say " I Choose you, sullen traveler ! Look at me and be happy!"
And I was, right then– Happy.
That word that is over questioned and often fleeting went through me and however brief, I can say it was there.
Jul 22, 2011
Jul 22, 2011 at 7:05 PM UTC
It was a ritual scarfing
spiced-eggs at the subbase,
then heading up
to the mountaintop
to check on
the cumulous-situation.
From the banana house,
one can see for eternity
the tips of Tortola & beyond
& grow fond of such splendor.
The beauty of such moments
can sink deep & stir hearts.
Even the stoutest of pirates
can cry behind the patch,
get snatched by this passion,
reveal his hidden treasure.
My blood-eyes always
seemed mesmerized,
pleasured
by the rum-filled hours
spent down on Back Street
before each maiden voyage.
The trips to Drake's Seat
to confer with the
dreadlocked-donkey man
were always my final stop.
For he had select bumblegum-ganja,
homegrown at market prices,
to change perspective
& buccaneers ya know,
certainly need that fix.
Those warm Trade Winds
whipped through
the Inward Passage
while lobsters boiled
on the shore,
and there, raised up
high on the edge,
my stiletto kniving sapphires,
I understood
the true meaning of freedom,
riding supersonic
under golden suns,
in a world
so alone & starving.
Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 3:51 AM UTC
Reverberating random radio waves
waves of blank blasting bells
bells of unfounded fickled fear
fear in cumulous clouded clatter
clatter of sick ******* sounds
sounds like you yearn your years
years of finding fallen failure
failure to see second sight
sight of blinded brilliant brain
brain farts form filthy fumes
fumes of angry artistic air
air is thick with wasted words
words that remain regretfully wrong
wrong way to tell twisted tales
tales of virtual visual *****
New style of poem i am working on. In first verse, the first three words must start phonetically the same. In the other verses, it must be last three words. Hard to make sense by these rules, but it was fun.
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 9:33 AM UTC
Clear water and blue skies
Distorted through glass eyes
Watery distortions
In the human mind
Heavenly perceptions
Made to confine
Reality
A spectrum defined
By the untrained minds
Cloud kings and underworld gods
Flaming pools
And cumulous mansions
Madness
Made to make us accept
The status quo
To slow our roll
We are Sisyphus
Pushing a boulder
Ever upwards
Without water
Without a break
Till they steal our last breath
They say only fools believe
In what they perceive
That the spiritual
Is the factual
But Plato’s Socrate’s cave
His allegory
Fits our life
Explains it with a perfect fable
Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 12:37 PM UTC
storm rages without,
woman rages within.
no meteorologist,
no man,
could have seen it coming,
blind to the greying clouds,
senseless to the burning-wire scent
of building fury.
it seems all blue-sky beauty,
a bearing akin
to cumulous tufts of vapour.
she is sunny and bright,
until fluffy clouds are ripped open
with shouting thunder and lightning strikes.
then man-meteorologist
is blind to the storm
no more.
Jan 9, 2025
Jan 9, 2025 at 10:01 AM UTC
Adobe and dust,
a place so quiet.
One grandfather
cottonwood,
leaves rustling,
listens with us
for the next train.
Drought has dried
this land beyond
any living person's
memory.
Now, a cooling wind
gathers power.
The sky over the old
mountains darkens.
As the train pulls
out from the antique
station, a single fork
of lightning frames
itself in the small
rear window.
The silvered tracks
put distance
rapidly behind us.
Opening out now
before us, sunlight
on the High Desert.
We turn to see
starched white
cumulous clouds,
absent for months
float by, flat bottoms
casting healing shadows
over the parched land.
In Albuquerque, we
stop for new passengers.
It's days after the 4th of July;
families have been visiting.
Roasted green chilies,
their fragrance so earthy
are brought onboard.
A mother and her
teenagers sit down
beside me. She smiles,
we talk. This brother
and sister are so good
to each other.
Dinner in the dining car
is an old-fashioned treat.
Big windows and white
cotton table cloths.
I find myself seated
family style, with a
father and son. Some
bicycle race has given
them rare time together.
As night comes on,
the conductor makes
a sleeping time call.
The lights are dimmed.
In the early hours,
walking aisle after
aisle and car to car
I see humanity
asleep in all its
quirky loveliness.
Tanned toddlers,
sprawled almost upside
down. Hair mussed up,
wearing bows meant
for grandparents.
Graying heads,
long accustomed to
leaning into one another,
rest peacefully.
One young man, a poet
with a crown of dreads
stands alone with his
thoughts, looking
out at the stars.
Jostled awake now,
I see the The Big Dipper
perfectly placed as a child
would draw it, twinkling
in my smudged window.
A haze of soft pink light
signals this new day.
All of us, coming home.
Human angels, each
here for one another.
Aug 29, 2015
Aug 29, 2015 at 8:16 PM UTC
The clouds came courting,
converging on the moon,
a congregation
of celestially
illuminated bodies,
painting the night sky
with their smoky grey, white,
blue, light
cumulous wonder.
Nov 21, 2015
Nov 21, 2015 at 7:53 AM UTC
What sad weary eyes we have
that see, in all the world,
such poverty and pointless pain.
Would not the sunlight bathe upon it
if we simply look again?
For the eye of the beholder
may choose the depth of tint
we see, through a rose coloured lens.
A hint of fanciful forms,
as they filter the rays they sense.
From beneath the haze
of the shimmering sun,
lies beauty, long forgot.
Or is it simply a mirage,
cavorting through rays far too hot?
Skies of deep azure
with clouds of cumulous mass
drifting lazily on the breeze.
Picturesque landscapes of floral palette,
until winters frosty frieze.
Glorious forests of glazed art,
twinkling icicles, like baubles
on the trees of December.
Wondrous days of innocence pure;
of younger days remembered.
Beasts wandering wild and free
in bountiful wooded wonderlands
of willow, beach and pine.
Snowflakes join to form a blanket
of majestic patterns, sublime.
Meandering melt-water streams
flowing, afresh with new life;
untainted and abundant.
A world reborn of marvelous magic,
colours and scents, resplendent.
≈
To look upon a world in pain
and see beneath the silken shrouds
to the beauty lying below.
The scent of love, life and passion
is there for all to bestow.
We need to look from behind
eyes that want to see,
the life that we need, restored.
As a composer, creating the music of life,
is prepared to re-write the score.
*
Written by Darren Scanlon, 15th November 2014.
Revised 27th July 2015.
©2015 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.
http://www.darrenscanlon.wordpress.com
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 3:03 PM UTC
April sheds tears for her time now is over
Departing in flourishes golden and red
Cascading leaves in a curtain of windfall
Settling now to a bright windblown bed.
Gone is the tarnish of summer’s oppressiveness
Gone the abundance of flourishing grass
Enter occurrence of snowflakes in treetops
Puddles of blue ice harder than glass.
Wither thou goest are chill maidens dancing
Wither thou venture there’s fog to the breath,
High geese are flying in formation arrows
Butterflys, faded, departing to death.
May now upon us with icy cold zephyrs
Cloud, nimbo-cumulous stacked up on high
Thunder intrudes with drum roll of Winter
Whilst fork lightning flashes across the cold sky.
Warm scarves and beanies are worn with knee-boots
Firesides crackle in glowing, hot hearths
Starlings in thousands, now settled to roosting,
Shall flock as the morning migration departs.
April relents with the tip toe of gentleness
Satisfied, smiling, her role is replete,
May muscles forth with rambunctious-ness bristling
Impatient to hasten sweet Autumn’s retreat.
M.
Joyous, to be strolling in a country lane, in the swirling leaves of Autumn.
30 April 2016
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 10:59 PM UTC
Life is no place for fools like me
Because there are no other fools like me
Cloudy nights wearing purple and grey cumulous
Softly comforting in their silent beauty
Puffy explosions of midnight joy
Quiet ponds reflecting the quiet night
There is safety in the solitude
Wonder in the shifting clouds
I choose this over the hustling daytime
I love this over the breakneck bar scene
Dimly lit lamplights breaking through the dark sky
Giving me just enough glow to read by
And when the evening gives up its sounds
The singing crickets and other chirping things
It’s like a beautiful painting, breathtaking
I choose this over the mangled masses
The mauling throng of throbbing crowds
Rushing and rushing pushing and shoving
Just to get to the next spot
A competition for the best jobs
Keep what you can and leave me the night
I am not a competitor in your gladiatorial bouts
Leave me the silence and I will take it as a gift
Leave me the night and see how my spirit is uplifted
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 9:07 PM UTC
You are not an imposter.
Look at the cumulous clouds.
They're everywhere.
They do whatever the **** they want.
Jan 25, 2019
Jan 25, 2019 at 10:29 PM UTC
As I took a drag of that cadaverous biri,
I lost the holy ghost
The cumulous had all left me...
Jun 5, 2015
Jun 5, 2015 at 3:21 PM UTC
We ask wild feats of writers
Unselfish word-bleeders
For work that is numinous
Words for joy, laughs, and weeping
Us hungry feel-feeders
Eat verses voluminous
We absorb works in moments
They divest force in phrase
Emotion frames numerous
Words for light, love, and darkness
Channels hours and days
Air-weightless and luminous
We call comedy writers
Carefully humorous
Use joking for distance
Words for howls, roars, and giggles
Sweet-flavours existence
From bitters that ruin us
We challenge dear writers
To capture the cumulous
Joyful, enlightening
Words for life, growth, and knowledge
Anxious, heart-tightening
Funny or humourless
Instructions in humanness
Oct 10, 2024
Oct 10, 2024 at 10:05 AM UTC