"delve" poems
I.
The moon sings the languid flower,
to bloom at midnight hour
Harmonious feast transpires -
luminescent choir
Petals mirror la hue de Luna,
but pale below her glow
Though the desert sweet aroma,
is fragrance plus photo
Neither causing nightly failure,
in idyllic charm
In fact, those powers are greater,
together than apart
II.
The moon a long gone distant rock,
yet pulls on ocean tops
Cereus lures with sweetest tricks,
and stings with countless licks
Battered holy asteroid face,
woos flawless solar gaze
And even though it causes mire,
lunar eclipses fire
The cactus thrives in driest sands,
and chokes in fertile lands
Alluring lonesome wanderers,
promising mere water
The lucid beauty bewilders,
as much as it can haunt
In fact, those powers are greater,
together than apart
III.
You, once my cereus and moon,
were drowned in my love well
Perhaps, I was this to you too,
though your hole I’d not delve
However, what was first velvet,
morphed into devil’s horns
Winter shed those thorns in my chest,
now spring gifts hope and more
The icy grips of each winter,
provides spring fuel to spark
In fact, those powers are greater,
together than apart
IV.
Although we've gone on our own ways,
I wouldn’t change the past
For each step was necessary,
to find true love at last
We were once greater together.
I’m now greater apart.
Jun 20, 2018
Jun 20, 2018 at 10:33 AM UTC
There are roots that
delve deep in our bones,
wrapping us like our skin.
They define who we are.
But,
who am I?
I am learned, sophisticated,
well versed in history and language.
My companions are numbers, papers, pens, and letters.
I drive a fine silk suit: shiny, clean, fragrant...
Though
am I, really?
Or am I
one who acts the opposite?
One who is
surrounded by those who have numbers, papers, pens, and letters as companions
whilst I am with pebbles, leaves, sticks;
driving a worn out hide made from a dying pig.
Or maybe,
I am both...
No.
I am not common folk who act out the Streets
on a home lined with shiny rocks,
smooth paper on a lap,
twinkling fireflies hanging from the roof
whilst displaying what I've learned from being raised around uniforms and books.
Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 7:42 AM UTC
#
*paint me
with the wet tickle
of your tongue
lingering with affection
savoring my fervent flavor
in bold strokes
of your obsession
color my essence
in heated hues
sending shivers
down my spine
in anticipation
of your warm breath
against my flesh
with every blissful caress
to ensue painted petals
of animation
with your supple lips
gently blur the lines
of my curved hips
softly stroking
the subtle shadows
of warm depth,
blushing
quivering thighs
as I gasp
of breath
plunge in
a primer coated palette
dipping your stiff paintbrush
deep within
the folds of my blanket
manipulating
a trembling image
of your voracious lust.
craze me
again and again
in breathless
****** glow,
your sensual brushstrokes
gently murmuring
layer on layer
in alla prima flow
delve deep
into my eyes
paint splattering
the passion
of my soul
drizzling silken strands
of love
in their entirety,
polishing me whole
and then
in blissful backwash
admire
the tangled limbs
interposed
of your
completed masterpiece
in smiling
sated repose*
#
Jun 25, 2018
Jun 25, 2018 at 8:21 AM UTC
Maybe it's for you but not for me, but who knows?
When will the time stop and give way to the paradoxical space that will shove the soul out of its life, eventually?
Tend to think that the archetypal white collar worker is what you should be before you delve into the reality?
Jumped into the ripest chord of a void song, and you found nothing but truth and perplexity?
Threw yourself into the wilderness but you are still deprived of happiness, only peace, filled with emptiness?
Crashed the mental into bi-polarizing set of uncertainty and sanity, driving everything towards the ravine of confusion and misinterpretation?
Dropped the last sweat of joy and contentment before you discover the eventuality, pessimistic value of the whole context?
Until the ultimate full stop appears, will you understand what is the whole story is all about?
Mar 31, 2018
Mar 31, 2018 at 6:56 AM UTC
You cause
a break inside my organs
Pointing out my flaws
our differences.
You are at peace.
I sit jittering, worrying
what everyone will think
of when I didn’t care
you made me laugh at
everything
Changes. You’re not right for me
Nor I for you, but I can’t help
Thinking
What if? Then I remember
you’re not what nor
Everything I want.
You are an intellectual snob you
have a depth about you
I would love to delve in,
a psychological study
that even the best critics would praise,
but I don’t want anyone else to have been there
or ever go there.
I cannot hold on to you
tear me away while
You’re haphazardly gluing us together
We’re a kindergarten art project
messy, trying to see
Beauty within the confusion,
unfinished
You asked me
Where am I most at peace
4 years old.
I could be anything
No fears
I hadn’t been ripped apart.
I was the girl that said everything,
until I felt the need to screen my thoughts,
like the filter you use to make your coffee
each morning. I wish that’s where I was,
having you tell me
that you like your women like your coffee
Dark and bitter.
I can look past your chauvinistic ways,
not giving a **** about anyone.
You’re not really closed minded
You just act like it,
which annoys the hell out of me
Sometimes. I wish life was simple.
But then
I would never know your complexities nor
Feel the things you help me feel,
like hate for train whistles
or the burn of gin hitting my throat.
Music
you introduce me to
offstage trumpets, bad movies. Your politics,
your brown eyes
and how you can hear frequencies
that most everyone else can’t. I worry
that you hear
the fear in my voice and heartbreak
With every word I speak.
When were you going to tell me?
Or was that your plan all along?
To throw me out
like yesterday’s coffee grounds
or cut up scraps
Used and unwanted.
I wish I could tell you
to tell her you don’t want her
but me instead,
you don’t, I don’t want you to.
I want holding hands, laughter
comfort, personality, humor, intellect.
You want that plus things
I can’t give
But you always take.
You are your coffee
disgusting, caffeinated,
addicting
the only patch that helps is
comforting words you never spoke.
We had many conversations
of your desires, lusts, mistakes,
but I was burned,
by lies, distrust.
You left, like always,
a harsh, acidic aftertaste
on my tongue.
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 10:20 AM UTC
Block by block
I delve down
is it iron?
is it gold?
or only gravel and stone
toiling with pick and shovel
I dream obsidian spires
towering 190 blocks above the shore
I dream wheat fields
and cow pens
nestled amidst rolling hills
I dream discovery
mystery
exploration
but before these
there must be iron
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 11:47 AM UTC
Spring upon the rose and live on the flow—
delve into the fragrance that goes full tilt
on petals that never drift with the wind.
Let it be—without form,
without a visual show.
Let’s not forget the truth:
even in pitch-dark invisible moments,
the Moon puts up a show.
Believe it or not—around that sweet spot,
the artistic paragon, Paradise, may be the next stop.
The butterfly paradise slips out to fly,
wafting into the enduring scent of a paint so bold.
Lo—on its picturesque wings it holds every eye;
where it reaches, no one knows.
It’s on the other side of the pool—
only Queen Fathima knows that sweet spot!
Any pause is deadly, heavy-handed on that route.
Death is no more; it’s unknown now.
And time—ripe for beauteous sight—is on for good!
If only one can hold their gaze,
walking the secret alleyways of God!
Oh, they flower in the fire,
dip into the sea in a single drop of water,
and pan out to another world within this world.
This time, Moses resists not—
his eyes peep beyond the burnt Mount Sinai,
gazing through burnt kohl,
across the shaded pollens
of the Ultimate Burning Beauty!
When it’s live in the true terra incognita,
it could be beyond the paradise rainbow—
the one show the true seekers sought the most.
Before long, all the rest may fade into the kohl.
Godsent, the most beautiful feminine paragon—Fathima—
lifts the black screen off at once, casting her gaze
from every never-blurred, myriad fractal pixel.
All in all, even the never-known pi digits in toto
soak into the one true description of reality's show!
Be en route—
it’s only the chosen eyes’ wonder-show,
where the handsome swans of Paradise stand on their toes.
Mar 21, 2019
Mar 21, 2019 at 11:17 AM UTC
*Further my mind goes, than I believed it could fathom
Fathoms below even the deceased dreams chasm
Impassionately growing through and between atoms
To learn
There is no whole truth in solely words
Blindfolded, if your mind isn't where the memory occurs
So it's sure
We'll never understand more than we're capable to confer
And it doesn't mean, you can't relate to the way I toss n' turn
In my sleep
That it isn't the same color we bleed
Or that we aren't perhaps equally 'deep'
Just that we hold some nature of privacy in our thoughts, from any other's gaze
Did I mention it was books of seperate authors, though we're on the same page?
What I wish to relate today
Is I have been changing to date
I'm breaking, down just like anyone else
Draining my health
Enslaved by the chase of wealth
Smiling while we're high, but we'll retreat to our personal hells
The honesty is, I'm scared to delve into myself
Because I know where my truth gets ugly, and has no glamour
Not the 30 second commercial version of what it's like living with cancer
It's habits, actions and manner
Looming over my pride
Leaving a weakness in my stride
Making me feel tired before I've tried*
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 12:42 AM UTC
Everything in quotations marks and italics was written by TS Eliot.
eyes knowing glossy men,
sheer women, creatures,
not all artists, but artists,
always thus,
centrifugal, simple
from their core,
emanate, resonate,
expand the exterior
with interior precision sculpting
to the interior delve,
via brush or limb,
pen or music,
the exposition, the exploration,
the reconstruction of composing
one's self, creation and destruction
of your own myths
movement of arms and legs,
sparseness of simplicity
subsidiaries of centricity,
tributaries of complexity,
oriented to their locality
the simple purpose of inhalation,
to exhale, after transformation,
the calculus of thought into emotion:
*"the tongues of flame are in-folded
into the crowned knot of fire and
the fire and rose are one"*
the dancers hear the music:
*"so deeply that it is not heard at all,
but you are the music
while the music lasts."*
**”Quick now, here, now always –
A condition of complete simplicity
(Costing not less than everything)
And all shall be well and
All manner of thing shall be well"**
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 10:42 PM UTC
would you listen or laugh at me
for claiming love's an ocean?
neither a knife, nor a blindfold
...but a sea.
there's a human-borne catastrophe.
cast your eye upon those with no share.
the contents of their buckets
are polluted and impure
yet all but 5%
goes unexplored.
do you find yourself choking in your sleep?
why watch the waves from safe dry ground
when you could delve in deep?
do you live in fear of unchartered seas
and life still left unfound?
are you overheating if only not to drown?
we 'love addicts' are water children.
i run outside and taste the rain.
let's go! let's drink! let's swim! let's bathe
and watch it seep into our pores
-- it escapes me how you stay indoors!
May 9, 2017
May 9, 2017 at 11:24 AM UTC
Where do they all go
the unspoken words
Do they melt, into nothingness
burning in the backs of our throats
Or delve into the blue deepness of our thoughts
a sunken treasure
I think they hitch rides
with the hopeless
and the heartbroken
Sitting heavy on shoulders
And I'm walking with the weight of the world
and I'm walking with the weight of the world
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 12:09 PM UTC
You must begin early
while it is cool and your head clear
discernment, a sharpened tine
probing the rocky darkness
for all things latent and destructive.
Be aware that the velvet sage
of the leaves belies their power
to take over every space, remember
roots burrow deep, anchoring in
fissures we don’t even know exist.
You must delve as close
to the origin as possible
or the **** you think eradicated
will bide its time, germinating
in the still secret ground
waiting for light
to penetrate the moist earth
waking the sprout
who voraciously pushes up and out
a curled blemish
in your otherwise carefully tended garden.
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 8:56 AM UTC
It's hard to write a poem
When there's nothing going on
It's hard to think of what to say
When you've given most of it away
As poets we never scratch the surface
We delve within, disclose our deepest sin
We crave our pain, declare it's for our art
Yet more often than not have no idea where to start
But start we do and start we must
A deep desire in all of us
To spill out on the written page
What little bit we have tried to save
Ink now is the poets blood
Fragments of self pour from within
Silence is our safety net
To stop us from bleeding out
Although it's hard to write a poem
With nothing going on
We still find words to form a verse
From deep within our marrow bone
Work © Mike Hauser & © Sia Jane
Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 10:33 AM UTC
Strong and resolute, it stands
seeking with claw-like limbs
for sunlight and raindrops.
Leaves, crimson and gold
slip from trailing branches
coming to rest on frozen ground.
Whispering and sighing
the great oak bends and sways
in the icy wind.
Roots, beneath the surface
delve deep down
growing
strengthening
as ages pass--
untouched by frost.
The strong winds may blow
and wage their wars
brittle branches may splinter.
But still the oak stands
bending
not breaking against the forces.
-Esther L. Krenzin-
-Roguesong-
Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 11:50 AM UTC
What's my worth?
Am I worth a second glance?
Till present, from birth
Am I deserving of chance?
What's my value?
Am I worth time spent?
What did I do?
Did I squander the life lent?
What are my virtues?
Do they even shine through?
Do I put them to good use?
Or useless like a pair less shoe?
What defines me?
Is it the words that write?
Or work I do diligently?
Could it be my punches in a fight?
What have I done?
Take your time to think
Did I do it with a loaded gun?
Must've done something; must've missed the link
What am I good for?
Important work or menial labour
Could have I done more?
Achieved alone or together
Do I think differently?
Indulge in fairytale notions
Is it sheer folly?
To believe in magic potions
Am I just silly?
Do I dream too much?
Accept reality
Am I capable of such?
Do I shirk what I carry?
Should I have said no?
Did I delay and tarry?
Have I nothing to show?
Am I wrong to feel?
Is it foolish to want?
When it all is real
Now bearing the brunt
Do I wear you weary?
With my endless stupor
Why can't I bury?
Before we expire
Why do I wallow?
Wading through eye puddles
Should I just burrow?
Deep into these riddles
Why do I falter?
Why can't I heal and rise?
Why do I break and shatter?
How do I stop my eyes?
What is this dense forest?
Must everything be obscure?
Can I not be honest?
Can I not be insecure?
Could I be any more random?
Asking as they come to mind
Have I compromised my decorum?
Have I been blind?
Should I delve even deeper?
May I go on and ask?
Am I worthy of an answer?
Or should I just don my mask?
Gargantuan was my crime
Thick was its girth
Absolution this time?
Of it am I worth?
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 1:04 PM UTC
In this journey
We walk into the unknown
The clock’s hands
Drag us towards it
A day packed with surprises
Our plans do not matter
We seem to deny the fact
Unknown is our journey
Afraid of the known
Created by our imagination
What have we created?
In the unknown we have to delve
To look for the right answers
We have to be aware
When we step into the unexplored
To be a willing learner
We have to be accepting
Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 11:22 PM UTC
Find solace in solitude,
There is no shame in that.
We are unknown to ourselves
An ocean to which we delve.
Scarcely coming up for air,
Entangled in fathoms
Whirlpools of despair.
Waves of introspection
Spare us shallow reefs
Yet cast us into darkness
And the horrors of the deep.
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 6:56 PM UTC
With a potent kiss,
Delve into the depths of my jaded heart and lose yourself in me,
Burrow and latch yourself inside.
Synchronize with the remains of my mortal being.
Surge through a mess of broken veins and arteries,
Interfere with the synapses in my brain and dizzy my fragmented mind.
Send me dancing through a euphoria of vertigo.
Become a part of me, with a potent kiss.
Jan 30, 2011
Jan 30, 2011 at 1:47 PM UTC
Hands delve deep in damp shadows
Even in slumber you drive my body insane
My body remembers you well
It's kept all memories of you so clear in it's senses
It misses you so dearly
I do miss you too, clearly
All this wetness is unnecessary
And this need for you, and only you, to myself is oh so scary
You whisper it's me you want to marry...
I woke up out the dream
Wondering what was wrong with me
I was warm and full of need
All I could think about is how much I wanted him to come pamper me
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 11:56 AM UTC
Ye who enter here, beware
Of wolves and mine shaft pits, take care
Or ye shall taste the bitter death
That comes upon the creeper's breath
Thy survival, on the good
Of other players rests
Upon thy house a naming sign
Each person must *****
And when night falls, take care that ye
Who stalk the halls at dark
Set up a light for ev'ry turn
A stick lit with a spark
A bone to catch a wolfie with
Some cookies fresh to eat
And in a furnace, toasty warm,
We have to roast our meat
To mine the caves and tunnels deep
To delve into the mountains
And when the water gushes forth
We then create the fountains
Sell your wares, o Cobbler man
I've melons many to spare;
An axe, a sword, a shovel stone
Oh? You like my hair?
Here we go, see yon moon rise
The world in the starry twilight
I have not seen the whole world yet
Would you take me there by starlight?
Unspoken fear; the creeper hiss
Blew up my trusty door
And now all manner of verminous things
Have crawled across the floor
If only I had a wolf to my name
Three bones to win his love;
Then he could save me from--I shudder--
The Enderman above.
No armor have I, nor sword of iron
Stone and wood are mine
The wooden stairs that lead up high
Tell me, who had all this time?
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 5:47 PM UTC
In your presence, where desire takes its hold,
Yearning surges, a story yet untold,
With eager lips, I seek her tender kiss,
A dance of tongues, an intimate abyss.
Exploring further, my tongue does trace,
Her sacred curves, a path I gently trace,
Whispers of pleasure adorn her sacred mound,
Each taste, an artistry of senses unbound.
As I delve deeper, a mouthful of her essence,
A symphony of flavors, a divine presence,
It's the elixir that calms my restless soul,
Truthfully, her nectar, my senses extol.
Jun 27, 2023
Jun 27, 2023 at 2:51 PM UTC
we explored one another,
similar to that of how the seven sins
would explore their vices,
corrupting their virtues.
but that's what made the garden blossom,
grow with intense passion that radiated
with a melancholy glimmer, with a dipped
and ragged vine of sweat and sheen
arousal and desire.
craving, begging, mewling, whining;
gluttony, craving for the excess
sloth, craving for moments of rest,
envy, craving for a bearing of arousal,
lust, craving for a touch, a sinful taste;
greed, craving the moans and swatches,
wrath, craving for sullen destruction,
pride, craving for the fall of a bereaved apology.
our garden;
a place of virtues, a place of our vices.
you showed me the deepest things,
darkest epithets of what was to be explored,
blossoming a crimson rose of pure desire
in the pit of my abdomen, vines of thorns
wrapped firmly around my hips
and the soft ashen flesh of my wrists
soon to be accompanied around
the thin circumference of my ankles.
the shark divots soon finding their
way around the swells of my breast,
and the tremble of my inner thighs;
body arching, lips quivering,
ecstacy of your words,
your seed planted garden that
became a part of me.
I found the cardinal sins in
the dropping countenance
of your words, of your demands, and of your wishes,
and i bathed in it,
soaked myself up in the lavender of
your scent, the scratchiness of your thorns.
our garden was the place to cast our sins,
delve into them, and it ruined me,
but oh how I solely craved it.
our encounters, our actions, our experiences
putting even the seven deadly sins to same,
forcing them to turn when catching a glimpse
of us. The swells of their cheeks blossoming
with that of a rose tinted hue.
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 1:26 AM UTC
Hear the LION'S ROAR
As the many indignant souls
Find themselves restored
In his majestic presence
As he rattles the very fabric
Of this world as many
Broken men become renewed
Their fractured parts
Collect in the melting ***
Of the Lions stare
So let us all dare
To live life like a Lion
Lounging in the sun
Owning and surveying
His beautiful life
Storing great forces
Reservoirs of strength
To pounce and punch
Soft pads of silent stealth
Gather for all his wealth
His appetite strong
He honors every parts of self
But there is no where
To hide in the cats eye stare
As my many fumbling phoney selves
Dissolve in his melting glare
As I am shamed by a look
As I approach life like a crook
My procrastinating belly exposed
In my lack luster display
As I breath a contempt
For my precious life
Standing strong in stature
And rich in golden shine
Radiating with a presence
Of Absolute rule
The air washed with
A bristly respect
A natural pride
Beams with a beauty
Freed from all that is false
His being effortlessly
Embraces the fields
Of his own nature
As I am silenced by
The strangle hold of this
Bitter dysfunctional world
Tightened by a
Multitude of silent gestures
I sit to listen
To the LION'S ROAR
I feel my throat burst
My gagged tongue freed
My choked throat
Beams like the sun
As I softly delve
In to the LION'S ROAR
An open infinity
Cuts my many collars
Releasing my self expression
As a thousand trap doors
Open in me
Learning from the loving LION
Our self expression freed
And our appetite renewed
We live a new adventure
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 5:13 PM UTC
I will stumble bravely through this pain
embrace its hand firmly and delve into my shame
I am the keeper of every single guilty thought
that taunts my identity and keeps me stuck
I am tormented by memories that consume my mind
This soul has begun purging, I will no longer be blind
My eyes have witnessed many hateful glares
I’ve held back tears of sadness because those closest did not care
They minimized the trauma I had to endure
but this child inside of me has become the cure
Through courage and wisdom my story will be told
And the life I was meant to lead will begin to unfold
Jan 19, 2018
Jan 19, 2018 at 1:38 AM UTC
i've come to realise
that with every fallen snowflake
the life of one unknown to me
is reflected in its icy self.
a snowflakes very existence relies on the individuality of its structure, similar to that of a human life.
everyone has a different story to tell
complicated to those who don't know
complicated to those who do know
complicated to all in a sense because
we sit by and wonder why
why are we here?
what is the meaning of true purpose when
uncertainty plagues the minds of all who breathe
living in a time when the youth of our generation are born into an age so filled with hurt
hate
pain
no common sense in a place where so many have tried to fight for the right of humanity.
all we receive is inhumane behaviour and injustice
uncaring and shallow acts when all we wish for is fairness and equality
you see, although every snowflake is different
their independent beauty co-depends on one another's existence
how can you have a blizzard with a single snowflake?
their imperfections bring out their perfections
each one has a tale to tell
each one brings out the beauty in one another.
similar to human life
have you ever realised the silent beauty in a cold winters snow?
how when engulfed in a snowstorm, you are able to accept peace into your mind, you're able to let go?
you're actually able to think for a moment, and realise
the clarity that silence holds
all that finally unfolds
when
you're able to take a moment for yourself and
let out the breath you've unknowingly held
you're finally able to delve
into a sense of true finality
a final sense of...
raw serenity.
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 10:55 PM UTC