"dewed" poems
*I stand at the feet
of this stunning sunset,
The sparks in my eyes,
light each star.*
***Rhythm of each twinkle,
synced with that of my own.
Strong and sure,
albeit few and far.***
*Nameless wind brings to me,
stories of silky clouds
I pull your smile deep in my heart
and finally can breathe.*
***Familiar words
without cloaks nor shrouds.
Just words...
Yours and mine to reveal what
our hearts would unsheathe.***
*What day is this?
Perfect to find
the rebirth of
freshly dewed dreams.*
***It isn't yesterday
nor is it tomorrow
It's today...
Where the sun would see us
weave our tapestries
through promise-bound seams.***
*I feel deep in my heart,
a fluttery stirring,
A hope,
a strength to reach out to you.*
***This hope you speak of...
Tethered by no thread or string
Mending my universe
and making it new.
So now I stand
at the end of this set...
Seeking the beacon
that I had known.
I'd again brave through this day
tomorrow...
Just so that I could hear your heart
that beats with my own...***
Dajena M
ryn
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 1:18 PM UTC
You're only seventeen -
the light seems to shine
right through you,
peach-furred skin
dessicated
drawn in upon itself
- and old.
Your moisture-dewed youth
has evaporated.
It’s been emptied
****** clean
dried and drained.
You reach out
with snappable wrists
Your brittle bones
bulge and bow.
Your ribs vibrate
with every breath
air thrills and ripples
the whole chest cavity.
Your hands and feet
Minnie Mouse big
too big
for the fragile framed
tiny dancer.
Your hips have become
pelvic bone butterflies
that arch and flare out
from your sunken abdomen
concave
and strangely hung
with loose folds of skin.
Your eyes like oases
in the desert of you
cartoon-cute big
but sunken deep
into your head
as if drawing away
from the sight of you.
Just a few more Kilos
and you’ll be gone.
© M.L.Emmett
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 11:53 AM UTC
The sprouting buttercup
dangles into the purpled,
doting sky. It's waxy spangles
nuzzle the moist,
crisply dewed, fluff
whilst billowing across merry air.
The yellow buttercup
dozes in spiced, lean dapples,
setting its soul ablaze in sumptuous echoes at the sheer
drape of dawn.
The teacup buttercup
outspreads it's wings
amongst tall spiked grasses
and wild flowers.
Shifting shafts and shards
of grass and glass
and forever awaiting the larks cry
which means its time to die.
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 7:24 AM UTC
On moon-damp sheets, you slowly open my violet fig, passing halves tongue to tongue,
its seed-pearls, captive minutes embraced by our soft lips,
each velvet pulse a swallowed clock tick, unthreading the night’s camisole—unstrung
Our minutes take root inside our souls, night’s vines in green hour’s gentle grip,
soft pods burst open, figs too ripe to cradle our desires,
their wet seeds, exploring, ticking onward—dreaming of a solar eclipse
Dawn’s pallid hand already tests the window, sprouting its cruel thorns and briars,
we stack our stolen seconds like leaves against the latch, a barricade of lost cries,
yet every green minute bleeds to gold, slipping through fingers, we tire—
Seconds steep in our bellies like sour home-brewed wine highs,
bubbles of yesterday escape—tiny pale moons clinging to folds and hips,
drunk on recycled time, we speak only in overlapping echoes of whys?
One corner of the mattress folds like a calendar page—blank, stripped,
our shadows lengthen backward, seeking last night’s candlelight,
Dawn’s fiery glow becomes a vortex of memory and lust—we slip, hip to hip
A seed-shaped cog spills within; its milk is bitter sun, not honeyed night,
the soft ticking falters—our wetness rusts the teeth of fragile gears,
we press our palms to the fracture, bluffing the hunger of day’s appetite.
All swallowed instants germinate in rapture; green shoots flare wild from every tear,
morning slips through the leaf-lattice, feral, unstoppable—death,
the room sighs oxygen unearned; we wake leaf-littered, dewed, a frontier unclear
One last seed, caged behind the sternum, ticks backwards, waiting for breath,
it counts in reverse, each tick a small fist begging still to be loved,
we do not let it out; we cradle the echo, its name?
Aug 24, 2025
Aug 24, 2025 at 2:45 PM UTC
I entered my poem "last night I dreamed" in the Tallenge poetry competition for May 2014, which it won, it's now in the annual competition so I'd really appreciate your support by voting for it at - bit.ly/1pJ0N3z
You can find the poem down the line in my list of poems, but I'll paste it here again so you can check it out to see if it's worth a vote.
Last Night I dreamt
Of the Hagia Sophia.
Looking across
mighty Bosphorous.
In Istanbul, in Byzantium,
in Constantinople.
A prize of ages...........
In all her many's
real and imagined glory.
Man's desire,
God's gift.
Stone's testament
To my species' faith,
In eternity.
Though this Hagia,
My Sophia,
was one of my dreams
In a dream-city/state.
In a dream Macedon/Thrace,
Modern and ancient
Asian/Europe, European-Asia,
Turk and Greek
Jew and Russian
Balkan stars fall upon her'
Coloured light's
and bright vid-screens.
Amid stone and earth
Glass and concrete,
Granite and amythst
Huge, jewel-covered,
ancient beyond measure....
Not just Constantine's church,
though mighty church it was..
Or Mehmet's prize;
though great Mosque it became
Nor Theodosius's rock
Though he still fights for her
Somewhere in the past.
And no dry museum either,
Though museum she is..........
In reality.
Just an ancient place,
Euxine harbour
Cross-road of man and water,
Land and Gods
Magic and reality
Chozen by Hellas
Built and owned
by Christ's children
Subjects of St. Paul's
Holy empire.
Orthodox and sacred
To Greek and Rus.
No Latin hymns
We're sung in her walls.
Then won by Turk
In wars fierce and long -
So now Muhammed's shrine
Ottoman and Pasha
Jewel of a new kingdom
Built upon built
Myriad upon myriad
Pagan, Muslim, Jew, and Christian
And the Gods of Hellas
who dwell there still
Watch and wonder
at it all
But in my dream
She was made -
in the shape of a grassy mound
Many faceted, growing still
Amid structures, attached to her
spans and arches
Ancient wonder
Modern glory
Flowing and rising
Worshipped by all who
dwelt near her.
Grassed covered
Monument strewn
Stretching up to the dark -
Starry Sky
Arches
Domes
Butress'
Spires
Crosses
Cresents
Heart's desire
White rocks paved
And eternal grasses
Dewed by Hellene Gods
Whose light it saved
Last night I dreamed
Of the Hagia Sophia.......
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 6:21 PM UTC
Seedy weejuns and mule slippers flopped fast
across the cold dewed lawn, laps of breath puffs
churned. Doing what we did best
burning off the night air, welcoming dawn.
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 6:23 AM UTC
The distant tinge of teardrops
And memories dewed with moss
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 1:31 AM UTC
Last Night I dreamt
Of the Hagia Sophia.
Looking across
mighty Bosphorous.
In Istanbul, in Byzantium,
in Constantinople.
A prize of ages...........
In all her many's
real and imagined glory.
Man's desire,
God's gift.
Stone's testament
To my species' faith,
In eternity.
Though this Hagia,
My Sophia,
was one of my dreams
In a dream-city/state.
In a dream Macedon/Thrace,
Modern and ancient
Asian/Europe, European-Asia,
Turk and Greek
Jew and Russian
Balkan stars fall upon her'
Coloured light's
and bright vid-screens.
Amid stone and earth
Glass and concrete,
Granite and amythst
Huge, jewel-covered,
ancient beyond measure....
Not just Constantine's church,
though mighty church it was..
Or Mehmet's prize;
though great Mosque it became
Nor Theodosius's rock
Though he still fights for her
Somewhere in the past.
And no dry museum either,
Though museum she is..........
In reality.
Just an ancient place,
Euxine harbour
Cross-road of man and water,
Land and Gods
Magic and reality
Chozen by Hellas
Built and owned
by Christ's children
Subjects of St. Paul's
Holy empire.
Orthodox and sacred
To Greek and Rus.
No Latin hymns
We're sung in her walls.
Then won by Turk
In wars fierce and long -
So now Muhammed's shrine
Ottoman and Pasha
Jewel of a new kingdom
Built upon built
Myriad upon myriad
Pagan, Muslim, Jew, and Christian
And the Gods of Hellas
who dwell there still
Watch and wonder
at it all
But in my dream
She was made -
in the shape of a grassy mound
Many faceted, growing still
Amid structures, attached to her
spans and arches
Ancient wonder
Modern glory
Flowing and rising
Worshipped by all who
dwelt near her.
Grassed covered
Monument strewn
Stretching up to the dark -
Starry Sky
Arches
Domes
Butress'
Spires
Crosses
Cresents
Heart's desire
White rocks paved
And eternal grasses
Dewed by Hellene Gods
Whose light it saved
Last night I dreamed
Of the Hagia Sophia.......
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 3:07 AM UTC
It is she who steals into the sunless day
Bringing with her the warmth and color that cannot not survive in the shadowy black of night
Night that brings the heavy veil of weightless ink that covers all with beauty
Night that instills passion and fear and mystery and desire
Night of unspoken stories hanging on chilled breath
Night of floating dreamless sleep
Night of blended coal-black sea and diamond sky
Night of sliver sparkling moonlight, shining through the sweet-dewed mist
Night that finds her, the lonely wander,
Drinking in the silence and depth of night.
Oct 4, 2012
Oct 4, 2012 at 4:16 PM UTC
Inviting.
The thin blue flame in my night-burnt fire
grows dim as dawn unquiets
another day's numberless happenings,
culls light from dark and carries
life forward while I, in sated mood, watch
first ***** in sparrowed pools lost
on those still bedded and fastened to sleep,
hear Spring-born lambs' early bleat,
smell warming grass dewed with new morning
and catch first breeze stirring shored
boats as sand twirls grasses in shivering dunes.
Unlatched my window wafts lures
to ****** some moments of closer approach
as closeted dawn opens
eyes and secretes rising smoke on sun's thaw
inviting a barefoot cavort
to wild-life's awesome nature, all on my own.
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 9:01 AM UTC
soliloquies of silence
interrupted by fresh dewed tips -
and subtle variations of tingling sensations
where do i start..
pressure before the storm.....
illustrious clouds break open heavenly showers of golden light rainbow water droplets
and i’m coated in the elixir of a thousand sunset,sunrise,noon time clouds
painted by the colors that these mischievous droplets of water have been ,
it is dreamscapes luxuries that escape in mid afternoon ,
mid night time
at invitations glance
and slight brush stroke of hand leads to quiet moan from lips escape the mind pleasantly tied up in a pearl like haze
invisible fingers wonder yonder and invisible lips bite at soft spots
yet
the experiment continues for the transference of energy cascaded gathered up in
chakra centers with bounce between head and root three times then down to earth then up to crown the energy returns electric.
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 1:52 PM UTC
You are beating onto me like a wave
and sand shakes from my coast with each hit:
one day a man dived into me, now
he is a photograph honey-dewed with age.
I loved his language. It twirled as a song
forms dynamics, rhythm up high to a ceiling
a flood gathering from the floor –
I wanted him to make me buoyant like that
but he just spit in my mouth and made me
swallow, like I could swig a tongue
or gather hope from salty strings of saliva.
Did he know I felt the ocean crashing again?
It must have been a lucky guess unless
girls can appear as aquamarine as it,
starfish and seashells, their pale pinks desire
something brighter than Miami’s going air.
But I did not, only more than a portrait
that can be stolen away by high tide and sea –
how rough water gets, striking you and me.
Feb 8, 2013
Feb 8, 2013 at 3:24 PM UTC
He is scraggled,
bathed only by the suns light during the hours of his slumber on Miami dewed, morn soil.
He sleeps off the night before, though he is not reminicent of it in his dreams,
as his slumber is no longer dreamt, but devoured by the nightmare of life,
and nights and days have begun to slur into one another
untill one becomes another,
and vice versa.
The empty bottle in the bag was dumped miles ago
on the side of a road no longer remembered,
and the facade of the beggar was dropped long ago,
as the face of hope was rendered.
The known knowledge of his future demise does not scare him,
as the only friend that brings him peace is the one that will destroy him.
But he is alright,
as the short lived calm of his decent into the burbon torrent
is his way of riding his nightmares,
and as he drinks his way away tonight, honey,
he knows,
this truely is all there is.
a.r.
Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 8:34 PM UTC
I don't know how to write you and maybe that's the point of it
I think about taxi cabs and single beds and pity my poor stomach
It can't take the shame of fogged memory
Dewed with whiskey and gingerale
Not regret, but it's kin, no fooling.
I don't do regrets
And I've never said a thing that I don't mean
So I meant it when I said it, but the when's important
Because I'm not flippant, or unsteady
But I don't know how I'm feeling.
Just know that I am.
I am feeling.
And I feel that that's significant.
Because I don't want to be a ball of quicksilver
Bright, mercury
Rolling from you in quick, sharp drips
Of poisonous charm.
Don't swallow it.
But do listen.
Just not too much.
Forget I said anything.
I'll stay quiet
Until I know what I'm saying.
Just know that I am feeling
Even if I don't know what I'm feeling.
I am feeling.
Oct 30, 2012
Oct 30, 2012 at 5:32 PM UTC
Deep sighs at day break
Our heated surface no match for the inferno inside
Raging for the ache of your dark touch
Sweat slicks already lubricated flesh
I curve into the muscled wall of your chest
Closer
I need it
I need you
Appalachia shadows criss cross fogged windows
Penetrating stories written along their dewed edges
I writhe beneath your whispers of
"Come for me"
Body bowed, tight like violin strings
Played by expert, elegant fingers
Shudder. Surrender
The seat of my soul flooding with pleasure, with release
Request granted
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 9:30 AM UTC
We were June's children:
Lazing in our cottages
Of restful diversions,
Sleeping through sticky days.
We were the youth of July:
Strong-backed and surly,
Unafraid and eager.
We pined for a challenge.
Stiff-lipped and sunburnt,
Now we are August's boys:
Wet-mouthed and grass dewed,
We dance naked in the wheatfields.
We slide amongst the chaff.
Our strong backs brace
Against heavy furnace skies,
And we look to September
With summer in our eyes.
Sep 5, 2010
Sep 5, 2010 at 3:32 PM UTC
early morning,
with
cup of kenyan blend.
i step outside,
to meet my day.
all soft,
misty drizzle.
cocooning the view,
to the koi pond
and slick driveway.
stepping stones,
are
soft wet coins
on greenback lawn.
dewed and glistening new.
the last
of the snapdragons,
weep in bright tears
of beauty.
the portulaci
have closed their
faces to the world,
to await the
returning sun.
in the pond,
the koi swim,
and glide
like solar flashes
caught while bathing.
bright moving wonder
on the colourless day
and as i watch
the surface becomes
hypnotic as water drops
create ring,bisecting
ring, bisecting ring.
concentricity,
most exquisite.
the smell of jasmine
eucalypt and coffee
mix and mingle with
exhaust and salted iodine.
sound is muted.
birds, whisper this morning.
even the kookaburras call,
in stuttering short chuckles.
the sea, so close, is but a murmur, a chinese whisper
on the frail wind.
the small grey cat,
comes to sit with me
nose, aquiver,
ears swiveling
to and fro.
a pause before,
harrumphing
and stalking
back into the
dry, cosy, warmth.
i soon follow....
leaving the day,
to it's softness.
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 7:33 PM UTC
My love, I wonder if you liked looking at dark houses from the sidewalk in the middle of the night like I do, if you delighted in whispering lullabies to the people sleeping silently inside.
I wonder if you had ever felt your heart explode before that moment, overwhelmed with love or joy or hope.
I wonder if you smelled the musk of the dusk dewed grass before you took your last and gasping breath.
I hope you know your momma loved you.
I hope you know your daddy loved you.
I hope you know your brother loved you.
I hope you see all of the people crying,
all of the people who still only see skin as skin,
all of the people with voices like arrows.
I hope you are truly now tasting the rainbow, swimming in the rainbow, swallowing the rainbow whole.
I hope you lay up in the sky,
in rest,
in peace.
Jul 14, 2013
Jul 14, 2013 at 12:43 AM UTC
You left
A footprint
On the wood panel
In front of me
Your wet soles
From dewed grass
And drunk squats
Your mark
Lays upon me
I know you’re near
But not here
Mar 16, 2019
Mar 16, 2019 at 8:01 PM UTC
*Strange enough but once I felt
it poured down from the sky
poured down on me, sliding
through my hair, it dripped
in the joyous company of naught.
It took away my heart
that had dried its every beat,
in a silent shiver due to cold,
my peace dewed me again.
I realized it's important to fall like rain
to seep into an ocean again.*
Jun 26, 2016
Jun 26, 2016 at 3:42 AM UTC
springing through the tall trees
the misty drops danced as moisture
blossomed a rhythm with the breeze
surrounded dewed flowers softly swayed
gently overlapping the green grassy hill
moonlight walked across the peaceful air
floating with such an extraordinary thrill
like pearls around the neck of life raindrops fell
and nature's beauty gleamed everywhere
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 7:49 AM UTC
sheathe thee
still earth in thy raiment so pale and daunting
a face i cup and hew with lips as cool as the wind
i've broken slander and maleficence that droops
so witless of the boorish plucking youth
do so i, kiss with excellent flavor, this season dewed in frost
meandering carefully my soul in a bolt of fluffing flakes
Nov 25, 2010
Nov 25, 2010 at 9:24 PM UTC
I gaze up at these stars
Are you looking too?
They make me think of you...
I remember the warmness of you playing against the coolness of the grass dewed
Air so cooled, I watched your puffs of breath get taken away by me
I swear I felt your heart beat shake the ground we layed upon
Was it your scent that intoxicated me?
Or that crisp air spinning my head around
Or was it my thoughts.... Of you?
Those stars scarred the inward parts of me
Burned the memory on me...
Of you...
Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 9:41 PM UTC
Like Icarus
my waxen wings
have melted
but by no fault
of my own.
One can't fly
too near the sun
with veins
laden with concrete
and a heart
of stone
carved by such wicked
hands as your own
knotted and disfigured
by the disease
you inflict.
And I can
see in your eyes
the longing for mine,
smooth and soft,
a gentle touch
you shall
never again know.
And though my fear
drives my to flee
here I remain
like Prometheus bound
by my transgression
bittersweet poison
dewed upon my lips.
But none of it for you
as I know
you set me up to fall
like an angel
cast from the heavens
and fall I shall
into the abyss
of this unknown
and though my body
may be shattered
and my spirit torn
I shall walk
with my eyes
to the sky
the sun's warm caress
and quiet strength
urging me on
until I can
bear your burden
no more.
Oct 14, 2011
Oct 14, 2011 at 1:13 AM UTC