"discus" poems
Awakens not my wolf-man to the moon
For that it shines a silver discus full,
For he may rise when clouds the thickest dull
The round moon’s lustre, or when the clock strikes noon.
One sorceress alone doth have the pow’r
T’arouse the beast, and he doth her obey;
And from her side the beast doth never stray,—
So loveth him the witch and the witching hour.
Yet, by my troth, the wolf-man hath no love
For her and hers which greater is than mine:
By daylight, blackest night, or moony shine,
My love doth neither wax nor wane nor rove.
However, unlike the love the beast doth keep,
My love can’t wake, for it doth never sleep.
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 12:10 PM UTC
She brought me to the devil—
swept the leaves off my brain
& we jumped in the pile.
After rolling a few
& burning
we bathed in wine
washing our minds
with chicken soup for the soul.
He appeared in the stars
& we smiled—
absorbing his card
through a lovely osmosis
supposing the black roses
hiding behind his back
were cut by a queen of swords.
We skipped roped
w/ a noose
cuttin’ loose our useless
baggage by tossing them over
a stony cliff.
As the devil lit a cigarette s/he mumbled
something about a conscious shift.
The devil gave us a gift—
It was a skull
inside a prince’s disk
shaped discus change purse.
“I bring you death as a parting
gift to show where to put the change.”
We laughed & giggled
as we played with plasma—
that’s liked fire cubed.
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 8:07 AM UTC
warped,
weird,
whirling,
wonder-filled,
a garland of words
eulogized by occidental cosmologists today
to deify the milky way
for five millennia,
in clandestine chambers of
the temple of the lord with a lotus navel,
oriental sages, finely tuned into
ultimate mantras of the cosmos,
initiated ‘twice born’ namboodris of kerala
into a mellifluous sanskrit verse....
a potent heart melting hymn
where our star-studded galaxy,
milky in complexion,
is seen as a spinning jagged-edged discus,
worn as an ornamental ring
around vishnu’s slender index finger,
from whose whirling lotus navel
originate the birth of inseparable twins:
warped space intertwined with flowing time
now this is a garland of exquisite beauty!
© 2019
Aug 5, 2019
Aug 5, 2019 at 11:29 AM UTC
When the elevator doors opened
I could see,
Despite your effort,
The mild discus
That washed over your face
Seeing me,
Alone at the rear of the car.
You entered.
Turned your young back to me
And selected your floor.
You were in elevator mode,
And I was elevator polite,
We never spoke.
What I wanted to say,
"Old age is not contagious,
Nor can you open your legs to it
Like STD.
You have to work at it
Everyday,
Old age is something you earn
For grit and perseverance."
I wish you well
Wherever you go
Wherever you are
My desire is you too will age
In your time,
And at your personal pace.
Sep 30, 2010
Sep 30, 2010 at 4:21 PM UTC
A thought in process...
Imagery that tells a story....
I can see
the Prestigious School of Gills:
The Conservatory of Velvet & Blues.
In the process...
The conservatory will need to
hire the Ground sharks
to make sure there
are no shellfish or
Crappie fish laying around.
Once all the Crap is
swallowed up,
we can hire Dolphins so they
can share in their porpoise.
Even in the deep,
we have trouble with
Blackchin. We should consider
hiring Giant Wels to calm
the Blackchin. if that does not
work, we will get the Bigmouth Buffalo
to calm all the Bitterling.
I do need to get around-
I should Perch a Black Neon Tetra
...and find some Pumkinseeds.
I will need to hire an
Octopus to get the building
done sooner.
In one hand- I will use a Hammerhead.
In another hand- he should use a Sawfish.
I will need two arms to scratch
the Rough Scad from the floor.
Two more arms should
use Smelt-whiting on the walls.
We need Muscles to do the
heavy lifting.
Finally, the Octopus will need two
arms to lay the Velvet.
EEL!!! I have noticed Roaches!
I noticed the Roughy patches.
Hey look!!! We do not need to
worry about electric-
we will just use electric eels.
To right- I will place the lampfish.
Do not worry about the
evil of the Ghouls & Devil Ray-
I will be sure to Discus
with Alfonsino all
the trouble with the
Blue-eye, Bullhead, ***** shark.
We will have a Whale of a time,
omitting the Suckers & Swallowers
from the Red Velvetfish.
I need to cool
things off with icefish.
And to keep the roofs from
leaking, hire the seals.
Our Seahawk Security will
be watching for the White Shark.
If you see them please,
send out the Yellow Jacks
and I will use the River Loach
as backup for there is plenty of
fish in the sea.
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 7:29 PM UTC
I'm so angry.
I really am.
You are college students.
You think you could tastefully
Complete a project on eating disorders.
I very well know that
Demi Lavato is a beautiful woman.
Is that honestly all you can say?
How could you possibly romanticize this issue.
My throat burns because of the acid.
My teeth are ****
I brush them three to five times a day.
I lock myself in the guest bathroom in the building
So that I can ***** in private.
I can eat a whole loaf of bread in three minutes.
When I was in high school
My mother tried to force me to eat breakfast.
So I filled multiple gallon bags
Of cereal and rotting bagels and toast.
I don't eat meals with people.
I bring a take out container to my dorm
Once a day
Stuffed to the limit with food.
And I eat it in ten minutes.
And then I *****
And sometimes I cut
And sometimes I sleep
But I don't even cry over it.
I itch my legs at family meals
Because taking another bite seems unbearable.
It's not something I care to discus.
To tell me that men can't have eating disorders
And that women are the only important ones.
I am a woman
But that makes me feel even sicker than my ED.
Ana and Mia are pansexual.
They don't care who you are
And they don't care if you hate them.
They will become your best friend
And they will stalk you
And destroy you
And they don't give two *****
If you're asian, white, male, or 300 pounds.
It's still a big deal.
I don't care if you have a BMI of 0 or 100.
It's still important.
It's still a big deal.
And you're offensive.
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 8:56 PM UTC
A stroke of luck
Abyss of dust, a discus then discussed by us
Rock that formed and gas that swarmed
Trapped in circles as it warmed
Distance and diameter right
Tilt and water blessed with life
Capable of catering to creatures with its features
Atmosphere and seasons here
Travelling friend who pulls at times
Mother holds us, Mother shines
Beyond us where the giants lie
Far away and in the sky
Flaming stars shine from afar
Make us wonder what we are
Bits of sand in a desert vast
Inventing terms like future and past
Life rose gradually from the ground
From the water’s depths, then all around
A barren wasteland of desolation
Turned lush and green with vegetation
Diverse and wonderful beasts evolved
And the primitive biped kings came with them
Hunting some still hunted by others
Endless war in a circular system
But with our ambition, the way of life was broken
The divine plan and superiority of man was spoken
Passed down, retold, until everyone agreed
Taking not appreciating, progress for greed
Divisions and factions formed, civilization
Kings building nations, many generations
Men and women born in chains, into war they came to be
Universe to Earth and Adam to Me
Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 5:22 AM UTC
There is a cut on my thumb where you have been
There is a callous on my pointer finger where you have been
There are marks all over the ground where you have been
There are swivels on my shoes where you have been
There are indents in steel poles where you have been
There are all these places in which you have been that you could measure your impact
Measure your presence
But you can't measure two places you have been
You cant measure the place you've had in my heart or the place you've had in the sky
But its the moments that you are in both in which you soar, we soar
It's the moments in both that make the difference, that matter
Apr 7, 2013
Apr 7, 2013 at 10:38 PM UTC
When first you feel passion,
It is part of love in a fashion.
Real love that is based on trust,
From both sides that’s a must.
Forgiveness when either falters,
Faithfulness that never alters.
Sharing not just wealth but pain,
All worldly things are loves gain.
Keeping mutual awareness alive,
Listen with interest to survive.
Pick up signals on quiet days,
Missing these can lead to a maze.
Discus problems so secret and deep,
Confessions shared can help us sleep.
Thinking your knowledge is complete,
There will forever be more to greet.
For I have loved in happiness and tears,
Understanding more over all these years.
Show attention to detail and explore,
Then every day you may love more.
Sep 17, 2011
Sep 17, 2011 at 5:09 AM UTC
I would pull your halo down
And fling it like a discus
Into the olympian clouds
For it to spin unending;
A fiery sun,
A sight to see
For the credulous crowds.
I would pull out your nails
One by one and stack them
On the blood slick cross
And watch you fall;
A dead weight,
So loaded with
Dogmatic dross.
I would see you fail
As we retreat from you
Into evidence
And truth from fact;
Intellect
Separating
Hope from sense.
I would see you gone
Like all you are or ever were
Is naught but
A memory;
A ragged
Child's blanket
We'd rather not see.
I would see you
Gone from me.
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 4:50 PM UTC
My battle,though not in Normandy is the landing beach inside of me,but
the war zone.
becomes a DMZ, as I and I cease hostility and come to an understanding.
You see,
I finally reached the beach when the tide had swallowed all those within reach and the Moon was on the wane, and understood that the battles like life were just a game,and as the good go on, the bad will wither away.
'The night of the long knives'
The cutting of life from the bough,we are leaves that will fall,hallmarked gold,assigned to be loved and to hold onto this,
we kiss like it's our first and our last,our future and the past slowly devours the remnants of...can anything last,would each day that has passed since we met fade away,who can say?
We are Olympia.
We are the races we run,the discus that's flung into the air,the javelin thrown and we become all we've been told and have known.The medals we wear, bright on our vest are a chest full of treasure,the pleasure we take,the records we make will belong to the future that goes on and on and we will rest on the laps of the gods.
Epiphany.
It was never to late to be replanted on the shady side,to be reinstated,able to grow well beside those who had grown well before and to sit out of the sun seems to give me more of a perspective on the times I have run through.In the gardens of grace where each face meets a face of the faces he wore,
if there ever was a war
I see that the shore is now silent.
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 1:42 AM UTC
O my precious flower of amethyst,
Who blooms in the early spring,
And whose dreadful fate befalls him fast
For any of my everlasting love to last.
To you I will go forth and sing,
As once did my lord, the Sun King,
Of your amaranthine beauty, by which I am bewitched.
By the hands of the West Wind did you fall,
Where you withered in front of your god of light.
For I, your death was my most tragic loss.
But if I had stopped that discus in toss,
I would have prevented this plight
From ever befalling my sight,
And never would I have listened to you wrawl.
To the Messenger did the Sun King flee for comfort,
But I, without you, had no one to go.
Even in death, your fairness remains,
In the shape of the hyacinth, forever contained.
My love for you still overflows,
Even amidst all the woe,
But now, alone, I shall go into summer.
Apr 23, 2020
Apr 23, 2020 at 10:59 PM UTC
Druga is illusion
A symbol or a membrane
A discus to be thrown
To observe the arc in sunshine.
She is not the ball
To be shotput through
She is not the goal
But a passage by the soul.
Sit, spread
Your arms wide as rainbow.
Wife, you have forgotten
The son is not your daughter.
Oct 11, 2019
Oct 11, 2019 at 5:23 PM UTC
Forever flowing towards me,
then out beyond
the open sea and
the
river,
sullen, sluggishly
takes on another life
and we believe
it's only man
who plans to execute
a will.
Hyperbole,
they said,
(a million times)
will be the death of me,
another will or won't you
try
to be
the river
strolling to the sea.
And the meaning
does not mean the end.
The exodus
never included nor
excluded us.
we became or we become and
some became
becalmed, some
Self-harmed and others
upped and went.
To all intents, it seemed a good idea,
dam the rivers
free up the land,
man's not content to have his fingers in
the cookie jar
he's got to have a hand in there.
Another mish-mash of my thoughts
to think on when I've
'bought the farm'
I wonder if Maggie really cares.
if I go to work or not.
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 1:24 AM UTC
yellow discus
break the sky
in porcelain wash
the
gleam union tethers
of cleft verandahs
pavement and weeds
in slow dawn
follow
into houses
into houses
sit
wait and ease
coffee mugs and soda stream
an old sofa tear
left in half rupture
the humbling comfort
of a freely shared meal
aside
make small talk with the locals
before the next
mortar shells
till
pack at first light
amiable waves
side-long goodbyes
get up
fall down
march on
listening in
the children songs
of cakewalk structures
fall down
live from a backpack
foam mattress and gas light
soft monoxide dreams
march on
don't get left behind
from standing too long
squinting in confusion
among
city streets
phantom bodies
lost in half rapture
get up
changeling soldier
of changing skies
march on
live in a backpack
canvas and tent pegs
the blanketing rain
is always a comfort
'cept when you're in it
Oct 14, 2016
Oct 14, 2016 at 11:15 PM UTC
This one was written in 1996 for the then Olympics when fashions seem to have gotten that bit more exposed. Embarrassingly brazen. Not always a welcome sight.
Olympic Games Nineteen Ninety ***
(a reminder for 2016 Olympics too)
Forgive me God, forgive me folk,
I’ve got to make this little joke.
I’m not a girl who’s often ******
After all, I practice Yoga,
Keeping mind and body pure:
Mostly mind. But I have eyes,
And one Olympic year the sure-
Fire fashion for the thighs
And ***** were shorts exposing all.
When I say all, I mean the ball,
The bell, the ****
God, how they knocked!
And while the race was being clocked
The racers showed what Adam hid;
And while I tried to watch the race
My eyes kept dropping to that place.
I couldn’t help myself. They slid
To dingling, dangling, banging things –
Some small, some large, and all these kings
Of sport diminished in my eyes.
I didn’t wish to see their size,
For I was there to see the sprinters
And the long jump and the discus,
Knowing that they’d spent long winters
Practicing like titans. Now the viscous
Summer days, all damp and sweaty,
While the world with its confetti
Waited to exalt its heroes,
It was long, short ***** that hit my eyes.
May athletes, trainers, sponsors wise,
Fashion moguls on the rise
Remember, modesty is also prize.
Olympic Games Nineteen Ninety *** 8.16.1996/ revised 8.6.2003/revised 8.5.2016)
Our Times, Our Culture;
arlenecorwinpoetry.com/duanespoetree.com/youtube
Aug 6, 2016
Aug 6, 2016 at 2:24 PM UTC
A discus throw,
the morning sky
a meniscus, the
liquid blue of
your eyes,
it must be
Monday.
Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 2:14 AM UTC
I am one container
for thousands of lives
for the speculated soul.
I am the hard drive
shameful admission
I am not solid state.
The years reach from the distance
begin the rising twisted branch
begin the pool of circumstance
the water in the ripened fruit I pull.
The brain is spinning discus
over the designated RPM
under the needle watch
the structure fragment
and the identities go
spinning at the
needle drop.
None of the names are my own name,
or maybe I've owned them all.
I'm all?
May 7, 2018
May 7, 2018 at 11:09 PM UTC
Words hurt no matter how small.
Words hurt and hath their power to enthrall.
And I've been hurt
By your malevolent call.
Like the impossible love of Venus and Mars and as time progresses- the death of old stars.
You thought I would never miss you-
But I see your red hair as a burning visage in my mind.
I see your face as a hallow, sacred artifact and your lips as gentle as Hyancith's.
But that discus that Apollo threw
Has struck my heart and the blood hath spewed-
all over my hands.
So I sit like a hag, aged by heartbreak
Mourning like a widow- a black widow, that will **** her joys for a selfish sake.
Words do hurt no matter how small
Words hurt and hath their power to cause downfall.
Jun 25, 2017
Jun 25, 2017 at 7:58 AM UTC
People can see through you, so give them something beautiful to see. Allow them to behold, all they desire to be.
A smile, a touch , a kind salutation. You will never know the impact; you have on this present generation.
Your soft spoken voice is felt in every word. Continue to resound you speech, so it can clearly be heard.
Let ii resound in the light, and the dark corners of the streets. Let it be heard in places, where all types of people meet. Let it be heard, far across the world. Just like a flying discus, while it's being hurled.
Life is here today, but tomorrow it will fade away. You will always be remembered, for the precious words that you say.
By, Sandra Juanita Nailing
Feb 13, 2014
Feb 13, 2014 at 10:32 PM UTC
Will your hand to find my shoulder
When I find myself alone
Will your hand find my shoulder
When I'm lost in a crowd of people
Feeling smaller than small
Will your hand find my shoulder
When I'm laughing with a group of friends
And loneliness grabs my gaze
Will your hand find my shoulder
When sadness grips my heart
And chokes out the hope
Till it's black and it's hollow
Will your hand find my shoulder
When I cried to you
When I feel there is nothing worth fighting for
Will your hand on my shoulder
When I'm standing in the discus circle
When I'm in doubt
About my ability to break a record
Will your hand for my shoulder
When I fall from the tree I trusted
I need someone to help me up my knees
Or someone to catch me if I can't catch me
Then to console me
I hope your hand finds my shoulder
Jul 14, 2017
Jul 14, 2017 at 3:45 AM UTC