"diaphanous" poems
i.
Happy birthday, diaphanous balm,
Mayest this span of time greeteth
Thee; with Good health, and loving
Psalm's.
ii.
Maligayang Kaarawan, archaic
Gem, mayest thine smile brush-
Stroke the aisles, of carbuncles
Of never-ending friend's.
iii.
Bon anniversaire, mon amour,
Mayest thine Satin-silk moonlit
Eye's, be a guide to the deaf and
Blind, mayest the heaven inside
Thee, be the richness of the poor.
iv.
Harúmena genéthlia, Earl, like
The lost and hidden pearl's,
Mayest the luster of thine
Memories, be kept safely
Locked, under thumb and key,
To openeth later, in sanctity.
v.
Penblwydd Hapus, Filipino
physician whom hath saved
Mine life, soul-mate, Queen,
Wife, mine bearer of this heart,
Mine carrier of all that's right.
The beam of nebula delights,
The diamond in mine might,
Mine-Queen, O' Jane
Mine Wife!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 8:41 PM UTC
In the divet between mountains
Resides a wooden cabin – ostensibly an amalgamation of the scape
Adroitly - I - quondam female warrior flit
Down massive (ancient) hand-laid, hand-cut carved stone steps
Bounding from contingent step onto the dense pad of turned soil
Tacit compliance between gravity and soil holds footprints bound
A compressed deflating crescendo as pace ignites with bounds
Cadences of protuberant wildflowers and grasses erupt from swollen terra
A winsome chromatic menagerie, dispersed in ecstatic fistfuls
A venerably ancient ritual
My nascent clandestine vocation
Personally meted out - a beatification for my provisional sanctuary
Along glacier-fed stream
Lissome fingers shadow inert stalks –plucking dormant beginnings from their desiccated ligaments
I am austere and unadorned save for a festoon of pyrite flecks trailing my semblance
Residual gilding from my ante-meridian swim taken after requisite gathering of wild blackberries, goose berries, and rhubarb along oft-tamped path
The sun, nestling into its requisite apex endorsed my completion
I reclined into the hassock of soil, feeling the elements settle about with an embossment of my form
Imposing verdure arched subtly as compressed soil beckoned hyperbolic flux
As I lay within the basilica of opulent living columns replete with comestible bounty
Lingering dew honed inflections of sacrosanct petrichor in unison with piquant clover
Wild purple clover buds saccharinely tinted and inundated nestled nerves in mine cribriform plate
Birds pitched and galloped through the frond tips and beyond in the lapis expanse
Frequently snatching damselfly’s and assemblages of midges from their ephemeral drift
Auspicious rays transcended stippled diaphanous gravid clouds
Light inundated ether entered humbly into the cathedral oculus
Pyrite speckled terrain beneath, and my bare gilded form above
Cast a refracted aura about my sanctuary
Precipitously the elusive vaporous embankment distended further
Ashen atmospheric correspondence inaugurated liquescent sustenance to my mountain abode
And I -
Lingered beneath the descending gobbets, curls furled in a puddle
Fresh topsoil cupping my corporal topographic contours
Pressing blackberries into my mouth between smiles
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 9:13 PM UTC
the tectonic plates
in me
are shifting
as our continents
approach collide
my ocean is
getting closer
to the mountains
on your landscape
tallest grasses blowing
in wild demon dance,
shaking their
heads as heated
storm approaches
oven-baked air crackling
with its own
electric currents
Nothing can stop it
it's a magnetic force
one to be
reckoned with
surrendered to
as dust foams
like ocean froth
around our heads
clinging to us in tiny
starlit fragments
and soon will come
the slick dive into
wordless waters,
just skin on skin
slippery mouth muscles
like entwined snakes
flick-flicking, shiny
in eye-lit cherry moons
Take my hand.
Just pull me in.
Enfold me,
without talking
watch as my aura
rushes into you,
first a delicate whisk
of cool light
to slake the thirst
of coal-licked caverns
then sparks
and bubbling oxidation
turning into liquid brushfire
Hold your palm
to my chest,
as if to keep
my heart steady,
my glowing flare of halo
pressed into your
clavicle, taking in
the embryonic beats
soothing my torrid ache,
infusing minerals
in vitamin-laced libation
It is time to simply bask
in the new
crispness of radical
shake off
the silt and salt
and rise up
into the spheres
of memory
of soulspeak
of collapsed time zones
budded breath
spiraling up
in curls,
diaphanous
dark mist
ascending
into
light
Jul 27, 2017
Jul 27, 2017 at 6:08 PM UTC
you in quail feathers means
that your red is my red
and the way that you taste pizza
is the way that I taste it
our
homogeneous brains
hard mother
hard father
the states we were raised in
melt running through
area 41 where the nefarious
Rolando implanted
our splitting
branches
qualia
what it means for you
to have mental states
pure consciousness
perceiving you there
in the corner
your toenails still painted
purple
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 6:00 PM UTC
There is a motionless tree
there is another that moves forward
a river of trees
pounds at my chest
The green swell
of good fortune
You are dressed in red
you are
the seal of the burning year
carnal firebrand
star of fruit
I eat the sun in you
The hour rests
on a chasm of clarities
The birds are a handful of shadows
their beaks build the night
their wings sustain the day
Rooted at the light's peak
between stability and vertigo
you are
the diaphanous balance.
4.5k
Saturday morning
Bedroom with sun shining through my green diaphanous curtain
My cats have carved out little holes where sun strikes through, unfiltered
and a rhythmic sound from above
Someone is getting frisky
and has a squeaky bed
And the natural cycle spins on, faster, faster
more intense and finally gone in silence
It's better than violence
but still TMI
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 11:13 PM UTC
my father sat in a pool
of mid-morning sunshine
on the raised patio
overlooking the garden
an open book in his lap
the dog asleep at his side
the lightest of clouds
decorating the horizon
and a whisper of leaves
his only distraction
as i rushed to the kitchen
for a hastily made
better-than-nothing version
of a flat white
that i wouldn't even enjoy
only ten minutes to spare
before yet another meeting
i paused for a moment
to take in this scene
resplendent as he was
peacefully present
behind the radiance
of diaphanous lace
breeze-rippled curtains
suffused with sunlight
a pertinent reminder
of something which
i didn't have time
to consider
Aug 3, 2023
Aug 3, 2023 at 11:53 AM UTC
or "let's order takeout,"
or "small ineptitudes in the kitchen"
1.
butter
lop
it liberally
silver clinging
scrape it
pan side
sputters and hissing
smoky?
turn the heat
down
crimsoning
elemental
browning the
butter
2.
sizzling whites
diaphanous
stiffly whitened
bubbles surface
spatula stroking
poly—
tetrafluoroethylene
roll the egg
yolk
shattering
yellow
3.
**** the water
nothing—
evaporated
gasping
blue effluvium
windows
fanblades
blackened ***
the bite of a
char upon
it
tea for
tomorrow
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 1:28 PM UTC
I glided through
the diaphanous breeze
with a desolate hope
that I would find my
way through the haze.
I stopped to rest,
finding solace
in the pounding
syllables of the sea
where I could see your
glimmer in every wave.
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 7:18 PM UTC
When the sun sets, flecking clouds with diaphanous light and birds whistle daytime’s last summer psalms, we call it night.
We’re moonbathing and Sunny’s features are inlaid with glamorous silver-blue patines. We’ll reawaken soon, our time is measured in assignments, not in hours, days or even seasons.
Responsibility is a villain of our own devices. You can run from it, bolt your door against it, only to find it’s right there - in back of you - smiling like a tiger or a parent.
Unfortunately, the university isn’t a hotel. It’s more of a competition, like those survivor shows.
We’ll enjoy the moonlight, for a few, laconic moments, for it seems to possess a sweet power to cool and calm, but soon our purposes will call, irresistibly, and we’ll return to the performance.
Sep 21, 2022
Sep 21, 2022 at 2:40 PM UTC
Diaphanous silk skirts glide gracefully around tiny ankles attached to perfect legs.
And the string quartet plays in the background.
Strong hands encircle a tightly cinched waste
And breath brushes against a neck.
Then the clock strikes midnight or the alarm sounds.
The spell breaks, totalitarian reality invades.
And dreams flutter away, evasive and light,
Like diaphanous silk skirts.
Nov 14, 2011
Nov 14, 2011 at 2:51 AM UTC
*
*
Sitting in the shade of ****** lilies, is
the blessed beauty, the Heart of Summer
Her skin, shimmering russet
Her eyes, molten gold
Her lips, pouty rose buds
Her hair, a slick raven halo
Her body, curvaceous and slender
Flaunted by her diaphanous lilac robe
Through her sculpted nose, she inhales the
warm clime; her feet upon the verdure.
As she walks through the gardens, the
flowers burst into blooms, trumpets
to the song of working honey bees.
Ahead is a lake, clear, crystal and celestine,
stars dance and wink upon the surface.
She picks the daisies and adorns it in
her hair, thinking of her great empery.
Here in the palms of light and love, there
is no sin and no pain.
She hears the ringing bells of
nature, the song of wings.
'For I love all life and light,' she smiles, 'and more,
I will bring.'
*
*
Sep 2, 2018
Sep 2, 2018 at 5:08 PM UTC
First kiss. O dulcet, glorious, first kiss!
Undeniable, absolute and sweet.
Honeyed naivety. Breathtaking bliss.
Nigh naught in life can possibly compete.
Your kiss. O mellifluous, first true kiss!
Delicate symphony of pure passion.
My heart surrenders; it cannot resist
The sounds of soft, diaphanous satin.
Our kiss. O inimitable first kiss!
Melody of sweet spontaneity.
Intoxicating and velvet abyss.
True desire; nay mere velleity.
Heavenly pleasure ‘tis the first, sweet kiss
Heart and mind will forever reminisce.
Nov 22, 2010
Nov 22, 2010 at 5:57 PM UTC
Her voice is green
growing old
rekindling
nature’s
minty breath.
His voice is grey
dull and diminutive
diminishing
our white light.
Splitting the prisms
by dismissing good wisdom.
My voice is diaphanous
blank slates
silver screens vanishing
nature retreating
beneath the fury of the unknown.
Skin scraped deeply,
wound stinging.
Until, it is naked and raw.
Nov 2, 2016
Nov 2, 2016 at 3:24 PM UTC
Voice resounding in my head
(timpani)
Melodyharmony
everythinginbetween
harmonymelody
In the bloom of your
sprite-like youth.
You were His first creation
Women constructed from your broken ribs
and all else from dust
as you shall be.
Bodies of cracked red earth and
Sunshine
Of absent goodnight kisses
and cigarettes.
Skin to skin
Sweat to sweat
(whose is whose)
You
made of
Brittle bones rattling through your sighs
Pulsing through the sinews of your legs
hidden beneath thin skin
pale
beating, feeble heart
Who can tell from my lying eyes
behind the blackandwhite bandanna
(peekaboo)
Of a folded
diaphanous paper moon
amid a field of stars.
Jul 25, 2011
Jul 25, 2011 at 2:25 PM UTC
I suffer
Neither alone nor in silence
Invisible in person
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 1:46 AM UTC
Adjectives continue
their downward spiral,
with adverbs likely to follow.
Wisdom, grace, and beauty
can be had three for a dollar,
as they head for a recession.
*Diaphanous, filigree,
pearlescent*, and love
are now available
at wholesale prices.
Verbs are still blue-chip investments,
but not many are willing to sell.
The image market is still strong,
but only for those rated AA or higher.
Beware of cheap imitations
sold by the side of the road.
Only the most conservative
consider rhyme a good option,
but its success in certain circles
warrants a brief mention.
The ongoing search for fresh
metaphor has caused concern
among environmental activists,
who warn that both the moon and the sea
have measurably diminished
since the dawn of the Romantic era.
Latter-day prosodists are having to settle
for menial positions in poultry plants,
where an aptitude for repetitive rhythms
is considered a valuable trait.
The outlook for the future remains uncertain,
and troubled times may lie ahead.
Supply will continue to outpace demand,
and the best of the lot will remain unread.
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 3:05 PM UTC
Hidden in the shadows
In the light of the moon
Is a secret born in the inception time
The whisper of legends
The Truth in the tale
Alive within dreams
A reflection of souls dancing
Diaphanous in the rays of the sun
Like lingering cold
As mist succumbs to the warmth of morning
Never to be found when looking
Unseen in plain sight
Wrapping its equal
In a swaddling of peace
Only to be known as two become one
A whole felt before
Only in the shadows of dreams
Eternal by design
Known in this realm
As a myth, as magic
But this is the only truth
Created as one soul
We are all that there is
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 4:03 AM UTC
It takes me back
as I sift thru years
of collected basement junk
a rainbow milk hurricane
thru time
I jump into the vortex
emitted from my dust-bound
N64
an old tv I used for video games
sits in a corner by
boxes of board games
& VHS tapes my dad bought me
memories like shoelaces
now untied, I trip on them
an evanescent trip.
The things in the vortex are
warped by time
blended from real things
into memory cards
memories like bodies
decaying
in the basement
memories like apparitions
diaphanous & ethereal
but always somewhere in that dark
it's a trip that I'm used to
it takes me
back
Feb 28, 2013
Feb 28, 2013 at 2:48 PM UTC
I'm not beautiful—
no scandalous, empyrean beauty;
not the beauty
of long legs and sleepless nights,
not transcendental, not diaphanous;
no ambrosia, no absinthe;
no earthly Aphrodite
to crush your heart
with slender hands.
No,
not the kind of beauty
that makes disciple
out of man;
but
our secrets, they rhyme darkly
and your heart is beating sharply,
and tonight I'll make you love me
while I can.
Jan 21, 2011
Jan 21, 2011 at 6:34 AM UTC
Forty days and Forty nights
Kachina dolls danced
pounding deer skin drums
rattling snake gourds
whistling circles of
flustered chicken feathers and totem poles
around the drooping firmament
here and there wisps of
sunken chested, shrunken breasted
castrated clouds dragging their empty
rain barrels could be seen straggling
across heat infested waves
at times I swear I could hear the wind
cussing through dry crackling branches
Pine wearing wide brimmed straw hats
squabbling with over bleached blond Palms
How we languished and thirsted for the
dulcet, pure, pellucid taste of Your crystal kisses
lavender squeaky clean smell of rain-bells
oh! to feel those torrents gushing down our
upturned faces, slicked back hair,
engulfing our flowering *****
drenching us to the bone
then this morning we heard an unfamiliar sound
fairy feet tap-dancing on rooftops
excited I ran outside
crowing the Gayatri mantra
flapping prema pink wings
waddling like a duck in slap happy puddles
Yes, Dear God
a grateful, thankful swan,
gossamer reflection
glistening fervently up at You
from diaphanous depths
inexhaustible wellspring
diamond spa of Your Love
Hari Om
Visit my author's page:
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Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 8:47 AM UTC
startle cracks
and curtain calls
my eyelids back
diaphanous dropped
and veils up
dewy bloom spotlit
monkeysuit chauffeur
denigrated daily
scratch behind his ears
you're doing OK
just mistook
vehicle for passenger
relax in seat back
let clear and present ever
steer biospheric lit
allow etheric hum
up the bony ladder
to outlook attic
bindi blinds lift
pretty bitchin'
46-bit binoculars
these holy puppet
hands have got
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 6:22 PM UTC
i’ve let ghosts grow
inside me for too long
in a greenhouse of self-deprecation
i fed them sunlight in the
form of grief, water in the form
of tears, and tilled soil with heartbreak
now, i will cut them at the root,
tear at the stems with my voice
until my hands are bloodied by thorns
i will no longer be diaphanous,
i will let my limbs stretch
and take up space
i am human
i am an original orchestration
of carbon and screams;
i was made to survive
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 9:18 PM UTC
.
When you caught my wandering eye,
love was a small word to hide behind,
an improper play seen through a diaphanous veil.
There was a new star in the sky, a mint room,
still searching for a lost dream.
I sit and watch a world die, and another take its place,
a kaleidoscope colander, as silence has its throat cut
with delicate skeletal lace and a face of porcelain.
A whisper to the zephyrs of second glance
echoing through the histories of the future,
a plea from a roving orb like a mute scream.
Did you hear me talking to the wind
where the wild things grow, recapturing misty joys.
As the Horns of Cernunnos reflect the primal stag
and the cusp of the Moon vibrates a soliloquy,
you caught my wandering eye.
© Pagan Paul (17/08/17)
Aug 18, 2017
Aug 18, 2017 at 4:03 AM UTC
Dear Gawd......I wanna be Pope..
I never ride backwards
on train or bus,
I never profane,
blaspheme or cuss,
I'm limpid,
riven of diaphanous stuff
never been given,
to a female ****
I'm penitent, contrite –
shriven of sin,
compliant, reliant,
I'm bendy n thin.
not quite castrato,
gives good vibrato
to choirboys mullato
with bellybutton fluff.
Nov 11, 2011
Nov 11, 2011 at 2:19 PM UTC