"diffused" poems
Under the parabola of a ball,
a child turning into a man,
I looked into the air too long.
The ball fell in my hand, it sang
in the closed fist: Open Open
Behold a gift designed to ****
Now in my dial of glass appears
the soldier who is going to die.
He smiles, and moves about in ways
his mother knows, habits of his.
The wires touch his face: I cry
NOW. Death, like a familiar, hears
And look, has made a man of dust
of a man of flesh. This sorcery
I do. Being ****** I am amused
to see the centre of love diffused
and the wave of love travel into vacancy.
How easy it is to make a ghost.
The weightless mosquito touches
her tiny shadow on the stone,
and with how like, how infinite
a lightness, man and shadow meet.
They fuse. A shadow is a man
when the mosquito death approaches
8.5k
The cave opens it's great crumbling maw,
streaks of light fall on the sparse green blades,
which dot the floor,
mushrooms push forth from the ground,
like fingers reaching to air,
the gurgling of a stream,
dances along a riverbed path,
paradise enclosed,
by earthen walls and canopy,
the glen lit by diffused and dappled sun.
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 10:13 AM UTC
Oh, may I join the choir invisible
Of those immortal dead who live again
In minds made better by their presence; live
In pulses stirred to generosity,
In deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn
For miserable aims that end with self,
In thoughts sublime that pierce the night like stars,
And with their mild persistence urge men's search
To vaster issues. So to live is heaven:
To make undying music in the world,
Breathing a beauteous order that controls
With growing sway the growing life of man.
So we inherit that sweet purity
For which we struggled, failed, and agonized
With widening retrospect that bred despair.
Rebellious flesh that would not be subdued,
A vicious parent shaming still its child,
Poor anxious penitence, is quick dissolved;
Its discords, quenched by meeting harmonies,
Die in the large and charitable air,
And all our rarer, better, truer self
That sobbed religiously in yearning song,
That watched to ease the burden of the world,
Laboriously tracing what must be,
And what may yet be better, -- saw within
A worthier image for the sanctuary,
And shaped it forth before the multitude,
Divinely human, raising worship so
To higher reverence more mixed with love, --
That better self shall live till human Time
Shall fold its eyelids, and the human sky
Be gathered like a scroll within the tomb
Unread forever. This is life to come, --
Which martyred men have made more glorious
For us who strive to follow. May I reach
That purest heaven, -- be to other souls
The cup of strength in some great agony,
Enkindle generous ardor, feed pure love,
Beget the smiles that have no cruelty,
Be the sweet presence of a good diffused,
And in diffusion ever more intense!
So shall I join the choir invisible
Whose music is the gladness of the world.
4.6k
(I)
Her hour upon the stage,
She struts and frets.
Applause, admiration
Behind a mask to reflect.
In moments of true emotion,
Behind closed doors,
The mask would slip off
And shatter on the floor.
(II)
As years went by
And her heart withered,
She’d rather keep the mask on.
Revealing her true-self she feared
So secure behind the guise
So full of her-assumed-self.
She diffused into the mask
And the mask into herself.
(III)
Two eyes in the crowd
Shone apart from the rest.
They were there for the she,
She had always neglect.
While the crowds cheered on,
In those eyes at her affixed,
For a few flickering seconds
Her true self she glimpsed.
By the mirror she stood.
Hand clasped to her face,
In futile agony,
This mask to efface.
(IV)
“A mask may be adamant.
It may cover the face whole
But it can never drape
Those windows to the soul.”
“It will be difficult to search
The true-self long concealed.
Let these drape-less windows
The path reveal.”
“Look deep in mine eyes,” said he.
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 6:14 AM UTC
The full moon caught a glimpse
where the billowed clouds parted
Saucer size Dogwood blossoms
echoed an urging reflection
through wide open window ;
the diffused moonlight reached in
touching the open palms
enduring in an empty void
lay down beside
Softly burnished reflections
lighten blanched flesh petals
swaying in the wakened
spring cadence
Rhinestone memories
tethered from somewhere above ;
as if manipulating puppet strings
dangling down through
the seesaw cloud gap ―
scattering candlelit sequins
like unmapped constellations
brushed by the moonlight
in the dale of your leafless *******
The fragrant breeze
of your memory
gathers a sweetest taste,
teasing wishful thirsty lips
into a gentle smile ...
Tracing unbounded memories
with wandering fingertips
upon your intimate
canvas oasis in my mind
Fallen petals floating gently
across still waters
induced by whispered breeze ;
quiet reminders that ripple
the mesmerizing silence
with the lonely breath
an unheard evanescent sigh
The open window
let the moonlight in,
illuminating lingering
shadows of the past ...
you feel the waft
of spring breathe ...
but you just can't help
where the wind blows
Jesse e. Stillwater
Apr 29, 2018
Apr 29, 2018 at 1:09 PM UTC
we met one night
hearts of fire
kisses sweet
passions dire
out came rope
and string we found
white gauze wrapping
honey ***** bound
kisses hot
mouths like butter
i tied her hard
her eyes did flutter
ankles to arms
head to feet
she started to sweat
her joints did meet
stressed and pink
i love her so
she looked up
and started to glow
oh you mean man
she said you brute
hurt me baby
am i not cute
i slapped her hard
on the face and the ***
bit her feet
she quaked and gasped
i used her mouth
oh she ****** and ******
and licked with lust
and then got ******
i love her ***
it was really fun
we loved and cumed
i am her sun
kisses torrid
i ate her like pie
for her love
i would gladly die
i tied her and bended
she arched and she folded
crushed her to pieces
and then re-moulded
she cried and begged
oh i adore
and hollered and squealed
give me some more
all in a swirl
eyes crossed and diffused
bent out of shape
and begged to be used
love turned to passion
and passion to madness
i did terrible things
she kissed me with gladness
we consumed each other
let out all that we feel
couldn't help our selves
and thats how we heal
out came rope
and string we found
white gauze wrapping
honey ***** bound
Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 9:20 AM UTC
What if I will never see you again?
If the future is fog and rain
What if we lost all we have today?
If our lives were to go astray
Yet,
What if this love will hold?
If we will, together grow old.
What if we were meant to be?
If this our life’s decree
Yet,
What if we are confused?
If the distance makes our love diffused
What if we gave up trying?
If life was simply too trying
Yet,
What if you are the one?
If we never want for none
What if it will always be you and me?
If that is what will be and will be.
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 11:46 AM UTC
impeccable artwork
splayed red anger
diffused dangerously
imminent explosion
take down your temper
ice it in silence
spread change
draw conclusions
inherent haste
find tranquility
in people places
abstract soliloquy
ethereal furnace
split skin burnt moments
wanderer waking
in a strange place
stars foretell
insipid futures
we are destined
for another ice age?
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 2 days ago
- See more at: http://allpoetry.com/poem/11770244-zodiac-misfired.....-by-Marshall-Gass-noguest#sthash.DX0ajG0s.dpuf
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 2:45 PM UTC
We ran out of pencils
which didn't bother us much
'till we discovered that
we ran out of words and letters
as well and
in the lack of words
there was nothing to ration
sheer terror and confusion
and those leaked out of storage
foaming, flooding, roaring
draining all other emotions and
thus the hunger settled in
oozing through the cracks
clinging to the walls
suckling like an orphaned boy
until, when nothing's left
consumed itself to null and
we were left with the absence
who's already small amounts
swelled, and inflated
filling our entire volume
entrapping the echos of memory
then, naturally,
diffused to the outside and
we were left
deprived of selves
only the void within preventing us
from bursting towards the void outside
we float
in no distinct direction
and on occasion bump
into each other's shell
a tap deprived of sound
unable to disturb
eternal peace
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 9:30 AM UTC
Taste buds engraved on my tongue
feel emotions of salty, sweet, bitter entities
the heart instilled in my body
taste flavors of aggravation, happiness, and sorrow.
Bittersweet is not just a combination of flavors,
reserved only for taste buds.
It somehow has explored into the world of the soul,
Because emotions are twisted in a circle,
that only a true oxymoron,
like bittersweet can fulfill it's complication.
Bittersweet has diffused into much more
something that can't be described by other emotions,
but rather than a description of situations,
like a good cry or a good pain.
and don't think I'm completely insane,
but for the longest time bittersweet
has been the epitome of what's left of my sanity.
Feb 7, 2012
Feb 7, 2012 at 9:42 PM UTC
“A man is about as likely to ask for help for depression as to ask for directions, and for much the same reason,” said Real, who struggled with his own depression issues. “It's part of the male code, part of masculine culture.”
~~~
when they ask,
I say, parrying fast,
how you doing?
to the persisters, I mutter fine
which is 100% correct...
been fined for the accumulated
made-mistakes, wrong forks taken,
the weight invisible but the
body sags, nonetheless...
you know they know,
you know their thoughts,
why doesn't he snap out of it,
after all he is a man,
he has always been
what we needed,
why can't he
just go back to the person prior...
this code, is not law,
ten times worse,
genetic and culture passed,
double ******
code so real, like the headaches,
the nightmares, that forbid equanimity...
not true,
we don't expect that of you,
thankful for all you have done,
but eyes betray,
a simpatico misunderstanding,
the instillers, can't take back
what they celebrated previous...
the signals everywhere, few ascertain,
cause the rule is never complain,
don't go near windows,
lest the sunlight diffused, offers no cheer,
but escape temptation ever on offer...
forgive yourself, someone intones,
but what infects my bones,
is non-responsive to the forget antibiotic,
which does not come in pill format
ask me for directions,
I will talk/walk you to your destination,
but when I'm lost,
I'm just a lost man,
who needs to do better,
forgetting is not in my DNA,
but lost is...choking on expectations
of being everyone's savior,
with no one to save you from yourself...
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 6:51 AM UTC
#
*River running..
That rushing sound in these parts
spell out the words, crystal-clear..
Tree-lined banks, giving way
to the Dark Hills, upslope
Giving way, to
granite-rocked outcroppings
giving way to elk-hidden quakeys
Surrendering their holy-huddle's
pristine stances
to tall prairie-grass, waving
wild raspberries and tall pines
And I, myself..
am surrendering also
She is watching the water, believing
That as it flows,
she will not lose herself in it
That it will not steal, but heal
That I will not rage again
within my fear
I am watching her,
watch the water
I am watching the water-- believing
That as I give of myself
further into the flow
that I will not become diffused
by humanity
By the love of man
and all of its dishonesty
and all of its diabolical treachery
Of its lack of concern,
or understanding
Or ability to break through
its own, self-centeredness
Or its need to swallow me up
into the mundane.
Her hands are in the air now,
praising..
Worshipping
the true nature of the flow,
Believing..
that I will let all of this, go
And as she wades in
I ease, back--
Retreating
up the Dark Hills, slope
Clutching tightly..
To granite-rocked outcroppings,
weeping.
Hiding in the quakeys,
among the majestic elk
Begging for the tallgrass, cover
among the wild raspberries.
Now, fully concealed
in tall pines.
Her hands
are stretched out, now..
as if hovering over the waters,
participating
While I hide from it all
While I hide, from humanity;
From the fallen, love of man
She is wading in,
Believing
.
As I am leaving;
Believing
As the cloud-hidden sky,
starts raining--
playing the most incredible, of tunes.*
#
Aug 8, 2021
Aug 8, 2021 at 8:01 PM UTC
the last time i was home
to see my mother we kissed
exchanged pleasantries
and unpleasantries pulled a warm
comforting silence around
us and read separate books
i remember the first time
i consciously saw her
we were living in a three room
apartment on burns avenue
mommy always sat in the dark
i don’t know how i knew that but she did
that night i stumbled into the kitchen
maybe because i’ve always been
a night person or perhaps because i had wet
the bed
she was sitting on a chair
the room was bathed in moonlight diffused through
those thousands of panes landlords who rented
to people with children were prone to put in windows
she may have been smoking but maybe not
her hair was three-quarters her height
which made me a strong believer in the samson myth
and very black
i’m sure i just hung there by the door
i remember thinking: what a beautiful lady
she was very deliberately waiting
perhaps for my father to come home
from his night job or maybe for a dream
that had promised to come by
“come here” she said “i’ll teach you
a poem: i see the moon
the moon sees me
god bless the moon
and god bless me”
i taught it to my son
who recited it for her
just to say we must learn
to bear the pleasures
as we have borne the pains
Nikki Giovanni, “Mothers” from My House. Copyright © 1972 by Nikki Giovanni.
May 17, 2013
May 17, 2013 at 1:13 PM UTC
The sunset was oh' so beautiful
the memories of the day so fleet
And the nights became so lasting
for so many were without sleep
The midnight sky was so very beautiful
the heavenly stars above were so bright
The darkness was serene and tranquil
while all the moments just seem right
The thoughts alive within were lovely
and the dreams which were mine divine
While the minutes of this fine moment
seem right to pen some verse and rhyme
For in the air my ears heard the melodies
of a sweet love song riding upon the wind
Which friend cupid sent by two lovebirds
magically causing my head to gently spin
And the flooding colors of the new sunrise
diffused beautifully in the sky this day
As I finally realized what happened to me
I fell in love with you in a special way.
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 7:42 PM UTC
our journaling discipline
formed in six steps:
Narration
some warmup words
perhaps drawing or photo
pen now at ready
where we jump in..
Emptying
first we list
what's to be emptied
put it all down
pleasures and pains..
Removing
these are obstacles
label future and past
futilities recognized
we've trimmed our list..
Anchoring
with shorter list
peering behind entries
find lurking there
Light of the moment..
Listening
this is Creation
WE are creating
cleansing the old
Writing new birth..
Reflecting
mind now diffused
a Cycle made clear
a Voice was heard
new Narration appears..
***Now WE step
into our day
riding our Cycle
pedaling our Way...!***
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 10:05 PM UTC
Laying in bed today, listening to tunes
As I so often do
A feeling encroached, one I could not shake
Or attempt to lose
The sound of sadness, through the microphone
Blew the dust from my aging bones
Sunlight diffused, into the tomb
Of my desolate room
Shadows scattered, from their thrones
To reveal four walls of stone
Flowers dressed, this cold gray place
Where I woke from rest
Bare and unburdened, my blemished fleshed took its first steps
Bent but not broken, rebirthed, awoken
Jun 24, 2021
Jun 24, 2021 at 6:48 PM UTC
Winters nascent white falls
on the boughs of orchard branches
and carpets the earth outside my window;
The coating has a strength in it's gentle glow
softening and subduing the landscape
in a pale light, diffused by cloud,
Lifting with the purity of a doves wings
And drifting with a melancholy like ashes,
Settling, like the baseness of bones,
Something bare and beautiful
is reflected outside
in the raw winds of transition,
Out of the dark belly of solstice,
In all the suddenness and subtlety of being
snow flakes are inchoate and bristling.
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 8:46 PM UTC
a day
with contrasts faded
hazy smoke from
distant forest burnings
skylight diffused..
traffic at rushhour
a monotonous din..
such muffled appearances
invited a more
exacting look..
white paint splotches
accidental decorations
to a darkened parkbench
suggests here a distant
supernova explosion..
a motorcycle pistons'
high pitch report
self identification
in the traffic din..
an airliner's orange
contrails laced the
gray cloudless sky..
then a sudden appearance
a haloed quartermoon
light enhancement
with circular glow..
yes contrasts seemed to
speak on this day
bursting the haze...
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 11:09 PM UTC
edge of the World; the lip of a spoonfull
of neptune breath and jewels
where elephants room for the night. full
of blue doom; a bed and a pool
the edge [ was a world you slip through ] youthful
no pontoons. next to a mule
with an Angel. cruel neckties, spiteful
apples, atoms
and you
the Spaulding gray and blue Danube
diffused.
Oct 28, 2012
Oct 28, 2012 at 3:26 PM UTC
With fierce eyes turned towards the dawn
A tightly balled fist rose to the heavens
Parting smiles, carbon particles, and atoms
Collided and separated
And in the split of an atom second
The world caved into her mouth
Diffused with saliva-like opinions
And spit into the ocean fusion
A tear of wish amongst the sea foam rocks
Dashed by the sharp pangs of truth
Cutting deeper into her gaze
I fell out of expectation
Without a breath of hope under the torrent
Faltering a rescue of a retracted hand
Mirrored to the sky and sea
A lover gone to a memory
© 2015 Neal Emanuelson
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 7:52 PM UTC
precipitation's anticipation of change
diffused morning light
the mustiness of first rain
a misty visibility hiding distant hills
a graying of the cityscape
skyscrapers in clouds
construction's crane quieted
in the mix of old and new
a slow rush hour
washing the street's grime
a coolness to my eyes
a slight chill in my bones
Autumn colored leaves swaying with breeze
on half empty trees
slanted raindrops incessantly blustering
a beautiful day
where only seagulls dare to fly
eight peeping eyes with healing hands
too good to help her to the restroom
"I'll call a nurse"
they just poked in to take a peek
feel her leg's edema
and inform me of possibility's progress
a colonoscopy?
a transfusion?
time keeps asking for more time
morning meds
an IV
a blood draw
a blood test strip
another trip to the restroom
a kind older gentleman's help
he thought I was her father
it's raining hard again
gutters like rivers
storm drains splashing white water
more skyline has gone missing
umbrellas wrestling wind
raindrops rilling down a picture window
as afternoon sheds it's light
as I watch sleep's breaths
her hunger awakens and feistiness returns
"Don't they feed their patients here?"
they never told us to call food services
another blood pressure reading
another blood draw
another trip to the restroom
and it's all good
a colonoscopy evaluation
maybe Thursday or Friday...
looks like time got her wish
Oct 9, 2011
Oct 9, 2011 at 5:53 PM UTC
Lost in the club on the way to the bathroom
American dreamless, existed in a vacuum
Every day, another way for us to consume
Raids on the senses, a general consensus
of the senseless, reprehensible amendments
The armaments by the tenements, diffused
Confused, never used, lonely in the fugue
And you
You who assume, presume, eschew the ruin
of the brewing times, rising tides, the lies
and of ties that bind - us to the times
and to meaningless rhymes
By illuminated rooms when the eye blinks
Think, blink, the pink rink - closed
By the hours that be, powers that see
Subversive naturalism
in a state of debate, compensate the reckless
Feckless and dick-less, compost of the senses
The sexes have wrecked us, ****** of the spectrum
By your septum reset them, mind wiped
Iconic lights gone
The new light's on
Right on
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 11:36 AM UTC
Submerged in the empire of your tide
Trying to feel unobtrusive, let me saturate
Lips filling with the brine
You pop sweet oxygen bubbles
Chewing gum at its finest
Pulling candy from my estuary
Blue blood sweeps from between my fingertips
Floating face through
Eyes open into yours
The deepest tide-pools I've ever seen
Slipping into the tangle of
Your fingers
The swivel of refraction
Shattered warmth diffused in frosty capped overture
Oh to be a native of you
Never needing a map or a light or a guide
Swallowed without notice
Nothing but another wave the endless
March of tumbling reverb
The only reaction possible to your vocal chords
The song of the ocean
The simmer of the tide
Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 9:39 PM UTC