"damped" poems
It was the time of my Auntie Bee summers
I was small then
She had a parakeet that landed on my head
and a bathtub too
with water so deep!
and legs and claws!
**** thing nearly chased me down the stairs!
She lived in slumbery Windsor Locks
where bugs hung-out in the haze
of teenage August
I played in the tall weeds
with a shoeless Italian boy
who ate tomatoes like apples
and cucumbers right off the vine!
He was ***** free and foreign!
We played— reckless, abandoned
behind the gas pump, under the tractor, in the barn
and through the endless fields
I didn’t know....
His name was Tony
I ate pizza with him—the first time
At Auntie Bee’s I had to go to bed at eight
but I could watch night flowers
bloom on wallpaper
She came in to say good night
slippered, shadowy, night dress slightly open
and I peeped her *******
like Tony’s cucumbers!
I had never seen my mother’s wonders....
Night spread its wings from the old fan—
a bird of tireless exhaustion
whipped, whipped, whipped to death in its cage
tireless exhaustion
tic-tocking in time to a wind-up clock
stretched out on the whine
of the overland trucks
Route Five through the night of an open window
In the grape arbor below—
tremulous incessant
crickets crickets crickets
tremulous incessant—insides of a child
a summer child
not yet ready for the fall of answers
Auntie Bee had a daughter—Maureen
I followed her everywhere I could
I was small then--
do anything for a stick of Juicy Fruit
I followed Maureen through my dreams
of being sixteen
and woke to Peggy’s “Fever”
while she tied her sneakers
against the mattress by my head
I followed Maureen (in my mind)
tanned and bandanned
to work in the fields of shade tobacco
with all those Puerto Rican boys!
She knew where she was going!
I was small then
...do anything for a stick of gum
“Mauney! Mauney! Mauney!”
...through the goldenrod of roadside
through the smell of oil that damped the dust
I followed Maureen’s white shorts
and chestnut hair...to the corner store
I followed the way the boys smiled
the way the screen door slammed
on her bright behind
the way her lips taunted and took
the coke-bottle’s green
I followed Maureen
I swear, I tried for hours to get that right!
Must have been Peggy Lee’s “Fever”
Maureen ties her sneakers in my face
Flaunts her years above my head
She has that look—
“We kids don’t know nothin”
(Little turds” that we be)
…followin’ Maureen
through the goldenrod of roadside
tic-tockin’, beboppin’
“Fever— in the morning
Fever all through the night….”
Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 11:30 PM UTC
You cant save my life
I am drawn
drawn in my own pain
You cant make me happy
I am covered
Covered with my own grief
You cant read me
I am written in the paper
damped by my own tears
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 12:24 AM UTC
You picked me off of the damped earth,
dusted leaves and years of dust away,
sealed my cracks with kisses and tape of woven eyelashes.
I was afraid,
but I wanted to love you too.
So I said I would love you,
no, i promised.
That I would love you if you promised me this --
that you would never, ever leave.
your fingers were crossed.
Oct 8, 2012
Oct 8, 2012 at 11:16 PM UTC
Your nectar trickled down
It’s flavour was renown
The sweet tasting caramel
Slowly chipped at my will
It’s damped my mouth
And pretend I had drought
It spilled its honey substance
And did my longing, justice
It painted my tongue
And between my gums
Lastly it started to float
Down my aching throat
It crawled down my pipe
And made the tube ripe
But it’s objective was my heart
As it would slowly rip me apart
So before it could continue
I started to swallow it whole
Making sure your loving covet
Stayed at the bottom of my stomach
Jul 16, 2020
Jul 16, 2020 at 11:33 PM UTC
A cup of coffee,
I feel its warmth in my hands.
This warmth, I know,
Will soon vanish against
The cold, salty air.
The clouds bring rain.
We know that.
The clouds scream your name
And the trees resemble your face,
Serene, as you ponder, as you wonder.
A cup of coffee,
You brought me,
And I think of you
As a warm cup I hold in my
Trembling hands,
Whilst the cold, wet air
Tries on and on
To push me away from you.
But for now,
We are here together,
Watching as the tiny pebbles
At the beach
Get damped slowly.
And we know.
The storm will soon fall upon us.
But for now,
We stand here,
Looking into each others eyes.
Aug 24, 2022
Aug 24, 2022 at 2:26 PM UTC
You bide my time, and cleanse your mind, and board in damped corners of mine.
You fall asleep at the wrong time to rouse when gongs resound inside.
None be so scarred to sleep as he; let him emerge for me to see.
Here I am; I've won already. On my God, how are you doing?
~ A.M, F.H.
Oct 21, 2020
Oct 21, 2020 at 10:55 PM UTC
I am trapped in my own memories, an endless whimper through frail bones.
Despite the clocks ceaseless “Tick Toc”, I remain in my own fearful zones.
The sweat drizzles down my heart, Anxiety rushes through my veins.
Stay away from me love, NO NO NO, I don’t want the Pain.
I feel you lurking through those dark corners, I’m afraid.
Running from the fear of you, out of my body I have strayed.
I don’t want you to burn my soul, crush my aorta into stones.
Your trying to pierce my heart, I’m terrified, please leave me alone.
I've met you; I've savored your sweet honey taste in slow sips.
That was before the honey bees came to sting my coated lips.
The horror, the thought of love, the feeling of love is terrifying.
Is love really the phobia, or is it the hurt that I am memorizing.
It all boils down to love; it is out to get me, to hurt me.
How do I make it go away, how do I make it FLEE, FLEE, FLEE.
It's creeping around my lonely heart, to feel is what I fret.
I hide, but love removes my hands from my beating chest.
Persistent, don't you get the point of my reaction.
Love, why do you wish to grant me dissatisfaction?
I know, I want you, I want you it's true.
I'm so afraid of what damage, maybe wonders you may do.
What will you do? Please don't hurt me anymore.
I picked up those pieces that you left broken before.
I will get over this fear, If you show me a little, just a little grace.
Kiss me softly, I will open my tightened eyes, to see your beautiful face.
Even then my palms will be damped with frightful anticipation.
You penetrated your way inside of me, Love you are penetrating!
Please stay this time, I'm really afraid that you will go!
To have love away from me, I can't stand it, I don't know!
**My phobia is not having you Love!
Not having you is my Phobia.
Loving is not the Phobia!
The Phobia is loving not!**
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 6:59 PM UTC
Flittering feathers write sonnets
in soaring frequencies;
taking in the ocean at once,
I felt ripples brought to standstill,
damped by second's refrain,
curled back into the
picturesque blue written ahead,
but
no cloud harbours the ceiling,
no late words shown, jotted down
by the
indifferent and
invariably disappearing breeze.
The latterwork of these days took it up,
and hung it out
on lines stretched across skies and time,
betraying tender surfeit, in moments
torn out,
and,
leaving only
vague traces of
woodworn prose,
spilling out my last sentiments:
*"we, once,
were alive,
if only for a moment."*
In dreams she holds small collections
of sandy flowers,
above the shoreline,
as the dichotomous cluster takes theirs,
behind a fragmentary grain
in the blacksmith's hide;
written, again, are those seasick letters,
wrung out
in the dead heat of the forge,
the demands of strangers,
in stone buildings by the fireplace,
electric heater, off,
the inbetween reeling
of slightened accomplishments,
the scent of oil,
left over, from the husk of noon.
Miss and want, over again,
missing beguilement in afternoon's repose.
"come back...",
but she ain't the one gone.
Apr 5, 2013
Apr 5, 2013 at 7:12 AM UTC
Beijing’s Child points at the white clouds flying, veils in the somber sky, to the moon under the yielding tree’s red lantern, he is absent-mindedly playing with his brown braids. He pictures himself abroad, by other long shores turning the pages of his dear illustrated book when a fired fish jumps up to the skies clad in its rainbow scales, glistering. Under the yielding tree red lantern
Beijing’s Child rubs the green ginkgo Although the snow, winter’s daughter plucks the feather leaves of her silvery coat....
Was it the wind, messenger of the west that brought the Biloba bird until Ta? Under the yielding tree red lantern
He thinks about it sprouting, seed of the past. The Child whose name means pagoda lives over the gates of the shining sun chanting to the elements songs and lullabies,
Under the yielding tree red lantern.
And when Earth vibrates under the storms when the frightened men rise their damped eyes the child wraps his body with the veil of the stars I hear by the mounts his voice and his augurs. But the tree was cut down and cannot offer its sweet sap anymore the red gleam has faded long ago of the marooned torn by time book only one thing remains, and it is a dream.
Because, at bedtime, as the world is sound asleep the child pours a golden powder to the souls. Stay awake at night because the Child of Beijing will enchant you until your morning!
Written in French in Beijing, October 20, 2011. Translated on May 9, 2014 Lyon, France
Nov 28, 2015
Nov 28, 2015 at 9:01 AM UTC
As the cold crept under my skin
so did your kisses
as you planted them softly
on the carpet of goosebumps
that covered my body
As the wind slapped my face
with chills
so did your hands
as they cupped my red cheeks
holding it still
marveling at the beauty
that has bewitched you
As the rain damped my hair
curling them with winter surprises
so did you fingers
as they hypnotized me to sleep
uncurling all the disadvantages of the day
As the flakes rested on my lashes
so did yours against mine
as you got close to me
synching your breath with mine
As January embraced me
with layers upon layers of wool
so did your arms
as I roll under
my sheets
feeling my skin
against
yours
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 6:31 AM UTC
Lawrence (who goes by Lars)
Went to India
And Contracted SARS
Damped his spirits?
I think not!
His best friend is Lou
Payed his taxes and went to church
Alas, 'twas not Jesus
That he found on his search
Lars and Lou
One day had nothing to do
They crowded the streets of the city
In Bangladesh
In Timbuktu
They never found something quite as pretty
Lars had bandages on his eyes
Lou chose not to see
Turning a blind eye
Turning the cheek
Say what you will (makes no difference to me)
Sep 27, 2011
Sep 27, 2011 at 10:35 PM UTC
I reach into my pocket, and pull out some Autumn leaves.
They're damped red, brown, yellow, and some green.
They smell like musky air after rain.
I reach into the ocean and pull out some seashells.
One looked like it had a heart in-graved,
and the other had a face.
I almost got hit by a car that day, but I
think they must be lucky.
I reach into my past, and I pull out my heart.
I put it in my pocket along with the musky leaves,
and the shells from the sea,
because all I do is
reach and reach and reach.
Apr 3, 2013
Apr 3, 2013 at 9:48 AM UTC
I woke up with an aching heart
Pillow case damped from tears
Tried to sink in words from you
That day you left and gone away
I wandered lost without direction.
It felt like yesterday was an art
The way you smile to your ears
Like painted clouds on the sky so blue
Sillily I pretended like I was okay
Yet I silently longed for your attention.
Suddenly we heard of words that cut
Deep into our feelings that yearns
For a moment being in love so true
I desperately prayed you would stay
That the illness was just an imagination.
Little efforts we both had put
On this flower that bloomed for years
Ended with a silent goodbye from you
Petals fell like my teardrops I ran away
I wasn't ready to forget us and move on.
I shed tears flipping through our booklet
Contained the sweetest dreams of ours
As I began accepting and find closure
I promised to be strong come what may
Until some day we shall meet in heaven.
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 12:10 PM UTC
The bomb has been planted was everything that he could think about that day as he entered the door and locked it again. Its former occupants had migrated to Egypt, since then, only disappointment sleeps in the house.
Million inhabitants will die in that festival, including the elves and centaurs that came from the west. The fair was supposed to be a venue for recreation and alliance, a place where negotiations can be conducted and economic conflicts between the kingdoms can be settled.
But it has been planted and many lives will perish.
He crouched in one corner and noticed the peeling wallpaper – its edges bruised and forgotten and damped and dusty and bleeding. He folded his knees against his torn garments and enclosed his wings around himself and clasped his hands, trying to calm the trembling nebulas and screaming stars, but there is no escape from shattering.
The bomb has been planted.
Aug 24, 2013
Aug 24, 2013 at 9:55 AM UTC
The path, which I couldn't see
In the woods and near the sea
Tilted grass ever so green
Black damped and scented soil
Under the shade of the trees
Away from the gaze of the sun
But shinning in moon light
the path so close
Kept hiding from my sight
White flowers in the weeds
Leading to place never seen
Misleading Illusion to the eyes
Of the jungle, river and ice
Blue waters and crystal sky
Island of dreams, the other side
this world I did explore
when I took a step more
Manisha
Jan 12, 2016
Jan 12, 2016 at 10:25 AM UTC
painting red across my wrist
and all i wanted was a better view
"wake up" it says "let's go get high"
my cheeks flushed hot red
damped by my fears
bored because i'm dumb
it calls me a queer
my mind although
is a riot that you watch
from your tv
pupils dilated
doll parts scattered
bless my body
bless my soul
wrap it up in
turpentine
you're so *******
fabulous babydoll
you fit right
******* in
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 11:54 PM UTC
Believe in me when ice has shattered,
And cold waters seep so fast,
When drowning seems so unavoidable,
And heart beats slowly, almost dead.
Believe in me when you feel lonely,
And everyone abandoned you,
When memories are all that left
And there's no light in tiny window.
Believe in me when drops of blood
Turn into a crimson lake
When there's no singing, only howls,
And heart beats fast because of fear.
Believe in me when child is crying,
And salt from tears hurts like a knife,
When only lullaby is hope,
That new day won't bring rainy clouds.
Believe in me when candle damped,
And darkness covers haggard mind,
Believe me we'll break on through
Believe in me for I believe in you.
Apr 16, 2017
Apr 16, 2017 at 3:07 PM UTC
Fern leaves mirrored light is bent
Dewdrops glistening heaven sent
Dry lands drinking sky borne rain
Again the echoes sound so strange
To be tomorrows yesterday
Sitting quiet living in today
No past no shadows now of grey
Wondering now what made us stray
From things so common to the plan
Altered fabrics change of brand
Voices echo through the night
Stalled by sunrises warm soft light
Ash damped down by dying fire
The hopeful press and never tire
Spurred on always by lifes hope
Seeing always the ways to cope
Mirrored images waterfalls pass
Crystal pinned diamonds on the grass
The seasons casually spinning wheel
Meeting lifes terms meeting lifes deal
Seeing things for truth what’s real
Heartbeat constants knowing feel
Believing now it’s worth the cost
Warm sunrise banishes night’s cold frost
(GE2014) (C) Reserved
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 6:44 AM UTC
There’s dark force
Raging my skin
And invading my corpse
Damped by ****** moods
Immersed in holy hues
Arranged in the distance
Cruising the corners
In apprehensive missions
Returned to a stolen delivery
Matched to a coved misery
There’s a dark force
Raging my skin
And invading my corpse
I never let it in.
Feb 11, 2010
Feb 11, 2010 at 6:37 AM UTC
oh darling,
undress me
I want to feel
my lips against your lips
skin against skin
hands wandering on your
damped body
touching you
careful and slowly
kiss me passionately
& love me deep.
Oct 8, 2019
Oct 8, 2019 at 3:39 PM UTC
i got tumbled over creeks over mountains and even over
the stroke of roots like "have you ever been a permanent
walking sound?"the earth was raised in meek hillocks
distending the asphalt like lovely thronging arteries
of full and with gilt split pavement just up over them
,gilt with the song of a dying star, crusted on them
as they split the yoke of the hard scramble of tightly packed
firm loosing."a tree is sound that i have tasted when i
was just young struck moments of flesh as thin as
the instants that i was then when i was in forests and
in ponds and the silk of water drowned the heat of
long suffering summer drawn cheeks(we called them
days but really they were just the paneless leaves of
glass i spun myself through as like a stretch of damped
slightly fingers, sticky slightly, i picked up some
flecks of seconds shorn and fluttering to my skin
they stuck)tanned and brushed with the rosy tattoo
of my heart down a little just a bit in my chest.
I was in the golden state and i had heard my mother
call me as the twill of friscalating nice illuminant
brushes played against my ***** blond hair and i was
pulled from them the moments of youth stabbed
instants and i was pulled right up back to now
where i am sitting just another second dead.
Jun 2, 2011
Jun 2, 2011 at 2:27 AM UTC
Rain falls steadily
Straight down from the dark slate sky
Umbrellas march past
The air is green tinged
Hedges bursting with bird song
Then a flash and thunder's roar
the rain now falling harder
The smell of damped dust rises
I breathe in the earthy scent
glad to be alive
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 11:26 AM UTC
*Even the windows had acquired the moss. It sprawled on the pavement, the moss, with all those leaves, fallen barks, soda bottles and old hapless notebooks. The pane was shattered, its edge towering, watching time and absorbing solitude.
The **** on the front door was damped and covered in rust. From the roof, stray veins dangled and decided to suspend themselves in mid-air. Scattered on the pavement leading to the entrance were glittering kisses and shards of glass. A shadow from the past lurks apprehensively – hiding behind the wind, bending below the grass.
They say it was sleeping down the cellar. I never found out. But in the middle of it, a chair has been deserted – broken and abandoned.
The hinges creaked as l slipped my foot inside. I shivered at the face of desolation as my leg touched the corner of the door. The passing time ruined the flooring; stray plants and bleeding flowers sprouted the space and occupied the place. Sometimes, at night, fireflies light this void and drown themselves in ecstasy.
Sawdust fluttered carelessly round the stairs that ceased breathing halfway. The steps have retained the sound of the shuffling footsteps. Even the birds fear this spot, the windowpane had lost all its former glory and shining reflections. The edges of the glasses hang loose and proud, captivating than summer, sharper than words.
I moved close, bended my knees, placed my ear near your half-opened mouth and listened to the sound of your breathing. Your hair draped down the side of your arms, half of your face is hidden away from me and I wonder if you’re calling me in this dream, exhaling my name
Over
And over
And over
And over
Leaving traces and creases on the sheet as I staggered my way back beside you from the labyrinth of this captivating decay unfolding on your very palm.*
Jul 28, 2013
Jul 28, 2013 at 8:33 AM UTC
Fern leaves mirrored light is bent
Dewdrops glistening heaven sent
Dry lands drinking sky borne rain
Again the echoes sound so strange
To be tomorrows yesterday
Sitting quiet living in today
No past no shadows now of grey
Wondering now what made us stray
From things so common to the plan
Altered fabrics change of brand
Voices echo through the night
Stalled by sunrises warm soft light
Ash damped down by dying fire
The hopeful press and never tire
Spurred on always by lifes hope
Seeing always the ways to cope
Mirrored images waterfalls pass
Crystal pinned diamonds on the grass
The seasons casually spinning wheel
Meeting lifes terms meeting lifes deal
Seeing things for truth what’s real
Heartbeat constants knowing feel
Believing now it’s worth the cost
Warm sunrise banishes night’s cold frost
(GE2014) (C) Reserved
Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 5:03 AM UTC
candle flicks orange
selflessly spits
and pop: pale pips
when
juice trapped in petroleum
wax hits heat and fires to
make mists in light
a cotton thread
( points vapours )
stutter the
dark:
yellow
the lights lets me see
fractions of tar smell
sweetly pink in the
Valor heater.
pressed from thin metal
a bomb
damped by ribbon squab
(broad vapours)
starve the
cold:
red air
all weaves shrink as the
smoke, a fake evaporate,
journey's to the clouds
Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 12:26 PM UTC