"deposited" poems
I watched the fox, rat held firmly in its jaw,
Trot across the street, lithely avoiding the cars,
Ears pricked up.
It slithered under a fence and weaved through the undergrowth,
Not once acknowledging my presence.
Disappearing in the night, it yelped out its echoes in the wood
Licking out worms.
The shadowed moon slung down its light
Like weak silver bristles from the back of a carved out hedgehog
Covered with newly deposited fox saliva.
It had screamed as it was consumed-unable to die!
The crow stabbed at a newly dead rock pigeon
As the stalking cat pounced......
Death mingled!
Joe, who lived near me, waved:
I waved back, wondering why he saw nothing.
Sep 26, 2016
Sep 26, 2016 at 7:32 PM UTC
*~~~
When the wooden door leads a little,
To a force is put
In the erst of the body fleece wells,
Sweet sweating as the dew is deposited
The clamor of the known birds,
Uttering,
Be filled,
North wind changes direction,
Comes through my southern window
When harmonic air,
Passed over the yellow paddy fields,
Farmers perches hope's aroma
Into the hearts
At the mid of the noon,
Cowboys keep exhaustion on flute
Swelling of the new message,
Leaves
Flowers
Fruits
After a Long waiting,
Pied crested Cuckoo singing
Mating songs
The peacock repeatedly whispering peahen
My beloved,
Your one "April" desires
bought us,
Cuddly child as the light purple rose
And they say you
Sing your song of arrival
O' April O' come!
Once Again!
Show Your Cyclone form
Engross your soul
Bring the rain,
Chill the Nature
Add to birth New Child for the unscathed time
~~~
@Musfiq us shaleheen*
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 4:08 PM UTC
She often thought that, in a morbid way, loving someone was like death.
The parts of yourself that you reveal and give, wrapped in silver tinsel and flowered paper, can be broken, stolen, or returned worse for wear.
Sometimes love waters the beautiful parts of people, allowing them to grow and twine their way into everyone’s smile. However, the same effect can be gained by the famine that rejection brings, drying the beautiful parts until they are no more than the
husk of the darkest humanities seeping into snarls.
What makes love dangerous, is the allure of how easily you could get hurt, rejected, tossed carelessly aside, or broken, but you’re taking a chance on another human being having the compassion not to abandon you in the gutter along with every other heart they have wrung dry.
The trees we carve with hearts and initials are almost like our tombstones, waiting for the date to be scribed underneath, of when he stopped loving her eyes or she stopping drying his tears.
Our memories are deposited regretfully at the sites we have marked with our love, the diner where he first saw her drinking coffee, the library where they shared their first kiss, the grassy patch where they lounged and discussed their children and wedding. The memories and emotions we leave in these places are the fragrant lilies and roses stained with our tears that we drop at the grave site; allowing ourselves to be overcome with the sting of losing someone forever.
After you lose the emotional connection with someone that can rarely be re-forged, you go through the grieving process that’s special and selective for every individual. The length and intensity of the grieving stages varying on amount of betrayal, nostalgia, affection, broken trust, and anger that came with the initial passing. Sometimes it’s the denial stage that clings, your mind intent that they will walk back into your life next Tuesday like a maelstrom hasn’t wreaked your lives.
So, in a morbid way, she often thought that loving someone was like attending a funeral to look at a mirror box, with your heart nestled inside someone else’s hands.
Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 1:24 AM UTC
HOME MADE VALENTINES DAY...
Back in the 1940's when I was young
Valentines Day was so special
Everything was homemade
from the Valentine box,
the Valentines,
and Valentine cookies.
As the room mother one year
my mom was asked to make a large
Valentine Box
I remember the doilies that we
colored in, we had ruffles,
glitter on little hearts,
everything was pink, white and red.
The big Valentine box was put on
the teachers desk
Then as each child came in
they deposited their Valentines
in the beautiful Valentine Box.
I can't remember seeing the teacher
remove the Valentines from the box
but somehow she did, and a couple
of us kids got to pass out the cards.
We took them home in a paper bag.
But first we opened them up....
Always excited to see if we got
a special one from someone special...
Did you get one from Jimmy,
or best friend Sue
Here's one from the teacher
with a sucker too...
As the years passed by, and I became a mother
I helped my children make their own
small Valentine Box.
With Doilies, red hearts and
the most important part was glitter....
and they came home from school
filled with cards picked up at the
Valentine Store...
But
as years passed on
the Grandkids were more creative.
A Valentine Box
that looked like
a Lady Bug
each year they became more creative.
But
none as beautiful in my eyes
as the big large Valentine Box
my mom made.
HAPPY VALENTINES DAY...
by judy
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 7:05 AM UTC
Deathbed Confession
“In 1971 a man calling himself Dan Cooper hijacked
a plane from Portland to Seattle, demanded parachutes
and $200,000 in cash, then jumped into the night with
the money, never to be seen again.” — fbi.gov
So little seemed to be at stake.
The bomb was real; the threat was fake.
Neither was difficult to make.
And I was in my element,
or almost there. Yes, the descent
was cold, but warmer as I went,
and yes it was coal black and raining,
but I had uppers and my training.
I’ve spent my whole life not complaining.
When I could see the woods I wandered
out with the twenties, which I laundered,
safety-deposited, and squandered,
and with the oddest thing — a name
I’d paid for but could never claim,
a private riddle, private fame.
That’s been the hardest part: denial —
remaining of no interest while
the Bureau opened up a file
on every former paratrooper
who in his final morphine stupor
discovered he was D.B. Cooper.
I’m D.B. Cooper. There, I said it.
It’s decent work if you can get it,
but it pays cash. There is no credit,
or blame, or pity in thin air,
and I’ve spent forty winters there.
I’ll take whatever you can spare,
although I don’t suppose the guy
whose last confession is a lie
deserves it any less than I.
This piece is written by Kansas Poet Laureate Henry McHenry. The rights to the poem are completely his.
Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 10:44 PM UTC
there's no point writing out what poetry is... if you don't actually write it.
a whiskey prior noon,
too soon, too soon,
too soon?
i'll be cooking a turkey curry later,
a whiskey prior noon,
too soon, too soon,
too soon?!
rhyme or rhythmic, perhaps the latter
in Dante's trinity of rhymes -
poetry of the near-illiterate,
who never read as much as could
have been -
thinking it out as origin and originals -
a man without influence is
not worth reciting -
he'll still have to borrow
the life of a Henry VIII somehow,
whether he has or hasn't read a book
concerning the man -
while the Vatican emerges as the gossip
library of all the European royal families,
and indeed Henry VIII dubbed
Anne Boleyn's cow dangler *******
duckies - i think it's due to the fact
he quacked while he suckled the *******
like a pre-mature **** not producing ***** -
seriously, no milk;
and as honesty goes, ********** literature
does it for me, patron saint kenneth rexroth -
self-education moulds the self into a
pristine sequence of surprises -
there the pop of a balloon,
there the weeping clown...
there the giraffe on stilts!
indeed even at university entry point
where i deposited my self
i came back with debts!
idiotic treachery of teaching the politicised
version of language,
as language per se simply called grammatically
sound, in politics simply versed "correct";
two satans from Syria while Solomon
had his harem,
a third from Poland,
they say the holocaust,
6 million if not more citizens of the world
with polish passports - mind you
they took the Diogenes quote
into left and right parallel readied for a march -
Apollo listened then laughed at
the failures counting to 13 - laughing
while the words 'too the moon!' were eased
out from his helium filled lungs.
Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 6:11 AM UTC
Sweat brow perculates,
unmastered tongue erased all evidence,
moist palms dripping anxious thoughts.
pursed lips crackled and dry
flow words like rapids,
blink open eyes crusted by innocence
each scar buried in rock,
fracture and fault.
heart uplifted bent in regrets,
memories unconformities,
missing from sight.
flash to love, metamorphosed in time
growing, blending to crystals born.
layered finely touched in pain,
like grains lithify
ossify,
remain untouched, preserved
in stone jointed connections made.
meandering tears entrenched down-cutting
cheeks, bone exposed to roots.
once deposited feeling, now eroded to nothing,
blown by winds unforgiving
these days pass like eons.
Jun 15, 2013
Jun 15, 2013 at 4:13 AM UTC
he named me after him,
his best ditty ever,
my inheritance,
a laughing brook of
guppy royalties,
that keep our Labrador
reasonably well fed poetically
and of course his name
his name,
which was not so much inherited,
as deposited, X-mark-the-son
they ask,
no, they declarative announce
as fact,
answered even as asking,
tho their voices rising
in a pretend-questioning format,
are you as good as he was?
Oh no, of course not,
I'm merely the son,
He was the father,
between us,
the
Holy Ghost of Rhyme
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 2:19 PM UTC
The sand is drenched with misty water
Falling from the sky.
My shovel cradles the clustered grains until
They are ready to be deposited
Into the security of a plastic bucket.
Once it is filled,
The infamous flip happens.
Then I am bound to lift the bucket
And embrace whatever I find underneath.
I squint, only wanting to half-look
At the potential abomination.
But I find myself pleasantly surprised;
Shivering
From the cold droplets condensing on my skin,
But grateful.
Jun 12, 2012
Jun 12, 2012 at 11:11 AM UTC
Unmovable Unchangeable
A worthiness a standard is deposited in your inner being all other elements in life will ebb and flow but
Your essence will be darkened by sorrow but from this tragedy and sorrow riches will tower a streaming
Blessedness will flow it will instantly engage another who has just suffered loss seen unseen words and
Actions will with the deftest touch a kindness soaked in mellowness will be communicated in silence to
The heart who has just suffered the bitter harvest of sorrow the gripping real a special irreplaceable
Someone has departed to walk on a different plane for them purest light your circumstance darkest
sorrow cold as Everest you are left ripped not only of all outward cover but inward has there ever been
Such savage destruction the healthy norm now ravaged the spiritual heart ripped apart it was complete
It was formed by love alone no other sculptor is more honered to work with such substance he makes
Their face those eyes the transfiguring part of human connection truly souls merge together here in this
Special stream vision multifaceted feelings weighted the heavier the deeper the depths where
Emotional ties are created from pleasures these springs of the heart you come in emptiness you leave
With these volumes ballooned ever stirring thoughts the very impulses that make them the person you
Know this feed of expressions do they not cause an unending joy that spills at different times sometimes
Just a slow pleasant entailing then at other times a roar of engulfing and at times it happens when your
Tide is low they instinctively trigger this from their register of mercy a unity that is boundless truly you
Have small oceans within I see it in the workaday world but like the song behind closed doors magic
Fire you reach heavenly heights explorers rewarded in human feeling that can’t be bought and are never
Sold truly kings and queen of a great domain in the hidden soul you have truly roped the wind and
Touched stars as you hovered under them holding hands who can doubt God when you exhibit his very
Essence through the love you found and it causes unfathomable assurances holding hands is the same
As a great dam holding water but yours is holding never ending love
Oct 5, 2012
Oct 5, 2012 at 12:13 AM UTC
thus do learn how to tolerate
the blow of wings
of the most inflammable flesh
after the successful sacrifice of the student-hostel
jumping into the peacock-foams
how dangerously is changing the total travel-route of the nail-polish
in the high tide of the coconut-kernel
that conquers the world
today the water-pigeon gets pain
only by the flute made of palm-leaf
can’t be written the pleasure-trip in boat
of the injured-knee night-queen that is deposited heavily
on the collar of the village-moonlight
even-then the gramophone would be playing on
even-then the courageous pheasant would proceed further
to throw towards the squirrel a dinner-sleep
then all the daughters in disguise of birds certainly
may come out from within the salted mosquito-net
burning open-ground in their eyes
even after
the small boats of the fig leaves
would slip from the chorus song
of the roses
then they are to be pulled forward to the river-bed
of the late afternoon
to make them understand again
that such Xerox-centre which can ignore its metallic-birth
does not grow even now on either side of this muddy road
so look at to see how the epenthesis
of the screwpine-leaf withdraws her beak from the old dome
and pours
all new mathematics
into the compact-disc stitched with the back of the sea-tortoise
if that’s not real
how in the left and right
such evil-company of the oxygen would creep
if the next part of this commentary
resumes from the umbilicus cavity of the x-mass
would the blood-sugar of the water-plankton be rising continuously
look there again
the feather of colour that is in her adolescence
touches the cold magnet of her gamut
to disperse the cherry orchards
now if the doors of this brown triangle be got open
you can see on the screen one by one
the projection of the apex-points of the red-palash
and in the night-texture of the kathakali-kathak
they are supplying continuously
small sun-shines in poly-packs
Sep 13, 2010
Sep 13, 2010 at 5:34 PM UTC
Only the bat knows
the secret of every night.
So if you want to know
what happened in the dark,
you ask the bat.
There are mysteries
lurking in the dark.
Treasures are hidden within
the depths of the earth.
In the dark night up in the
galaxy at night is when the
heavens display their glory.
Within the darkness inside
the thick forest the mysteries
of creation hidden away from
the prowling eyes of humans
comes out to play.
Even beneath the ocean
where the surf searches
the sand for secrets,
there are mysteries
lurking therein.
It is so difficult and even
near impossible to know
the thoughts a of man's heart.
Inside the silent thoughts of
the consciousness of man
mysteries are wrought there.
Within the sacred seed carried in
the dark recess of the man
and deposited inside the womb
of a woman for nine months,
the creation of life in the dark ******
are made manifest.
No eyes have ever seen the hidden
mysteries of creation.
No words can explain, express
or describe the wonders of God.
Utterance ceased when trying to
explain the beauty of the
mystery of creation.
No words can fully tell the stories
of all the mysterious things lurking
in the dark night of the earth.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Aug 28, 2018
Aug 28, 2018 at 6:19 PM UTC
walking along
the cobble ****** street
i drop pieces
of my shattered dreams
to be swept up
by the street cleaner
and deposited
into a pile of *******
Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 4:31 PM UTC
Marble black bark grow bed sheets of parchment attached by
strings. Spillage of pink arises from the abdomen. Fused clothing fibers substitute layers of bark.........
The vivid aroma of rot and feasting maggots harmonize...............
A cadaver drilled by burrowing insects. Beetles, flies, pismires, and parallels. A carcass crammed with 200 seeds. Bulbous seeds in the nose. Deposited bulbs rooted in brain tissue. Thick specks of white nuzzle into flesh emerge. Squirm out of the cubicles. Insects feasting simultaneously............
A figure emerges from the edge of perception. Routinely gorging the cadavers vital delicacies. Amid spouts of fainting spells.......................
Grabbing lumps of brain matter. Shoveling it towards his gaping hole. Ravenously consuming the bland ashen chunks. Gripping the cranium and sipping the diluted ***
Sliding two slippery marbles into his gullet. Then suddenly publicizing his medals amid his fangs. Deteriorating into slush immediately........
Piercing the stationary ticker with talons. Shortly guzzling the dense scarlet metallic droplets. Promptly the sticky liquid cerise matter slithered into his craw. Hurling the white speckled rims simultaneously in glee. Than consuming the exterior synthetic.........
The corpse is convulsing..wheezing..........chest withering in pain. Man devours his own living corpse, neglecting to swallow his toes. A daily phenomenon……to devour yourself.
What of the toes? Looted by a motivated businessman the next day. “Oh the painstaking horror of humanities hunger,” the motivated businessman then asserted into thin air.
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 6:53 PM UTC
the neighbor's hens ventured into my backyard
and they've deposited the odd calling card
the path out the back has lime hillocks on it
which have proved not to be such a hit
the neighbor and I had a Mrs Harris and a Mrs Higgs
we discussed the hens not so polite depositing within my digs
she said the hen house door had fallen off its hinge
that is why the hens did so impolitely impinge
her hubby the local long arm of the law
later this afternoon shall repair the unattached door
the venturing wont escape custody
they'll be locked up for their impropriety
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 9:48 AM UTC
I will fall on cold earth minerals
deposited by you
long void of insides
this aperture is at it's widest
heart visible like a flower
to be plucked
but to departure ...
a black dove
Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 7:26 PM UTC
The Industrial Evolution
I want the rain to wash away the grime
From this filthy living corpse.
Its dross filled pores
And a life cloaked in rust ridden slime.
Dumped grot covers me.
Exhaled from the mephitic breath
Of a thousand septic chimneys refusing to fast.
Spewing out ****
Drowning all us luckless souls in muck.
The inevitable residue of greed
Deposited by those with no belief in the End of time.
A planet of zombies
Wading through a mire of death.
Only waiting for the time
They reach the END.
(Gerry Aldridge)
May 21, 2016
May 21, 2016 at 4:18 PM UTC
Don't touch me
You don't love me
Put your calloused hand over my heart
Does it beat for you?
You can't even
put those three puny words past your lips
Yet when I hear ticking handles they're at twelve
Is that a sunset or sunrise?
We're walking the ledge
but your failing heart can't take another ledger
All the love I've deposited
The sharp breaths your claws caused
An unkindness flutters by
obscuring the orange view
Tell me, do you want to fly?
Away to there?
Away in here?
It beats for you
Sep 25, 2025
Sep 25, 2025 at 3:30 PM UTC
I’ve been wrestling this since last fall,
peeling my socks off around 2a.m.
and crawling into my nightmares
like a child on her hands and knees.
I’ve tossed my hair in the towel,
examined the scratches on my back
or the bite mark on my shoulder,
juxtaposing them to my flaws,
prying myself open and watching
the little memories flood
from my arteries like insects.
I’ve ******
the energy from my cheeks and given it
to my bones so they may carry
the weight of last year into this year,
the heavy balance between leaving your room
and sitting myself against the frame,
legs to my chest, listening to the unheard voices
telling me to stop loving you.
I’ve cut
you out like bruises on a strawberry,
throwing the bad parts into the black hole
to be grinded and deposited as to be rightfully
grown into something new. But this time,
after we made love on your floor
and counted the stars that left my mouth
every time you touched me like that,
I let myself cling to the light.
I stuffed the empty parts with your remnants,
and latched onto the goodbye kiss.
I’ve been wrestling with you
our bodies so close
since the summer ended and we rejoined
the feelings we spared just to pretend
that we didn’t hear the kettle roar
when we were finished.
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 6:26 PM UTC
I meant it to be
A beautiful moment
Now punctuated
By wet apostrophes.
My possessive nature hangs on high
Claiming accountability
For the balance of these events.
The credit of her salted raindrops
Deposited in my heart’s ocean
Is a debit of worry
In our joint account of emotion.
But I know…
The morning was still
But my blood raced.
I placed kisses
On her window sills
As she opens the gates of her face.
To meet her gaze
For accepted entrance
To the garden of Eden.
Though her rivers were flowing
My ark was a rubber tree
So we forced the dam open
Which caused a flood of memories
To rush her veins.
She turned Eve recalling Adam’s selfish lust
In my eyes
And locked up.
Never expecting that I’d cause
The chains of her past to bind her so painfully
I stopped.
But I know…
How she blankets herself
In the wounds
He inflicted.
Like a burn victim
Feigning strength
When every move hurts.
I offered to be a brick house
Wherein she can be glass.
A fragile rainstorm
With cries of thunder.
Though she’s the one apologizing
I’m the one that feels at fault
As I wipe the tears that threaten to stain her pillow.
I wash the burning desire for her cavity
Out of my soul.
This sweet tooth
Has crumbled our rites of passion.
So in my love, I’ll abstain
From hurting her again
To soothe the pain
She holds firm in her brain.
Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 8:05 PM UTC
*
*A robber slipped inside my heart's abode
And deposited a treasure trove of SOUL LOVE
A burglar slipped outside my soul's spirit
And took away the treasure trove of my SOUL LOVE
Both the things happened simultaneously
Without my knowing
By doing that - since that day
The robber and burglar have
Became integral part of my life & living
What has happened to me now?
Now I am responsible for
Robber's SOUL LOVE that's inside me
I also want back that SOUL LOVE
That is taken away by the burglar
I am in an unique state now
I think I am in LOVE now...
My eyes are running after
Cajoling the robber and the burglar
Who even though seems
Physically away from me
Are residing inside my being -
My Heart & SOUL
Thus I am attempting to search for
The same robber and burglar
Inside and outside my being
I was surprised and shocked
When the police came to arrest me
Mistaking me as a robber & a burglar
Interrogating me for
Days, weeks, months and years
For robbery and burglary of
"SOUL LOVEz"
I said:
"I am just a LOVERz who is
Safe guarding a SOUL LOVE of a robber"
I said:
"I am just a LOVERz who is searching
For the SOUL LOVE that's taken away by a burglar"
Need I say anything further?
I was made a LOVERz by fateful destiny
And I am suspected as a Robber and Burglar
Oh my BELOVEDz
The one who has
Deposited SOUL LOVE in me
Oh my BELOVEDz
The one who has
Taken away my SOUL LOVE
Can I say this to YOU?
"Let me keep your SOUL LOVE with me
Please keep my SOUL LOVE with YOU"
By the way if YOU do not mind
Let us deposit both of our SOUL LOVEz
Into "ONE" LOCKER of
"ETERNAL UNCONDITIONAL AGAPE LOVE"*
*
Mar 25, 2019
Mar 25, 2019 at 12:01 AM UTC
*he says:
I say,
seems my things were bequeathed
Without my knowledge!
Isn’t my heart already spoken for?*
(received in the post)
Dear Mr. Ledbetter
We thank you for having signed away your organs to us.
We appreciate your donation.
We hope you’ve, in turn, enjoyed the half-generous donations deposited into your account some time ago.
You’ve been living off the proceeds of organs we will inherit one day.
And we trust you’ve been looking after our organs, especially your heart.
Upon your final hour, we will reap the rest of you.
And we will offer the second half of a gift to your kin: a small donation and application forms.....
Have a continued happy life, Mr. Ledbetter.
Thanking you
Organ-Retrieval Team
*my heart, my heart
Oh, me heart*
S T, 18 July 2013
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 3:03 PM UTC
He's held for us a shy court,
In the continuity of my world.
Where time under anesthesia
First feels the cold of my shoulder,
While still showing a vague interest
In what he makes of the sordid elements
I've deposited at his feet.
Until his acting as what I've presented
Has perfected his imperfections.
His unwrapping this horror
Has lost the only bookmark
I'd destined to hold the significance of your laughter.
'This object is worthless'
He laughs, and then asks,
'Is it the grayest of ugly gifts?'
I reckon it is,
But remain stoic.
Not too unlike this damage now done.
My picking up these pieces
Of his paper misery
Reveals where the torn of his envelope
Has concealed the light of my gesture.
The key hides elsewhere tho',
On the shores of love.
A once deplorable trinket,
It now derives to hold the heart
Of my oldest fable.
So I destroy it without regret.
May 23, 2013
May 23, 2013 at 6:49 PM UTC