"disperses" poems
is like no other early morning, man reborn, in the delivery
room of sky blue, the offsetting water deeper bluish hue,
the trim-all-around of the mixed salad greens of the staff's
scrubs as they usher in unity, with no imp-unity, the risks,
while the supervisory sky, disperses cumulus clouds in
peppercorn patterns of white chains, or big wide solitary
brushstrokes on a a ****** canvas, gettin' the feel in the
palm of the heft of brush, the viscosity of the paint, the day's
palette reflecting available colors in order to create a uni~cued
original of what has been painted an uncountable times before,
and before…
tho short weighted, was the sleep of the prior night's restful,
he awakes to the early morning light, the sounds of early
island rouse him, even, arouse him, for the August chill
foretells of the early onset of memory loss of the peculiarities
of this summered simmering, human warming and baking
and natural braking of the slowing of the heart rate, to better
accommodate, nature's hints and hidden reminiscences
of the true purpose of the summer's intervention upon our
collective and unique bottling, our individualized containers,
un~lidded, uncovered, eager for the fuel of sunrays replenish-
ing the length of our lives by the elixir of the summer
it is a chill 63 Fahrenheit at this time of day as we crossover
to the nigh day, from the cooling air conditions of dark,
the occasional helicopter intrudes upon the morning's calm,
the water placid, the geese honking regarding my watchful
rewarding presence, a slew, a bevy, of female vocalists, to
ease this transitory performance unfolding, and though one
feels the existential of his solitary singularity, as he thinks,
nay believes, he is the only one in attendance at this ritualized
emergence, he takes in the cool of, the heat of, the admixture
of both, the clashing integers of each, and he, fully invigorated,
goes silent, for once more, he has uncovered new combinations of
old words to accept and describe a new day's creation, miracle of miraculous, defying the odds of this ventures's success, his own continuance on this sheltered but open all around island implanted tween two tines of land, as if all the surroundings were created just to protect this, wholly holy place…
7:00am
Silver Beach
Shelter Island
Aug 19 2025
Aug 19, 2025
Aug 19, 2025 at 8:00 AM UTC
A red jumper
in the airing cupboard,
thrown over a pipe,
drooping like it had melted.
“Académie culinaire de Toulouse l’enfant”
on the breast in fractured, iron-on plastic.
It was perfect.
Something that wouldn’t be missed.
I took my sister’s wave-edge scissors to it.
I took it to bits,
all but a jagged circle of a sun
full of furry solar storms
of thread ends.
I ignored the red fluff
falling slowly
like so much ****** snow,
mixing into carpet fibres
under my bare feet.
And my heat
Disperses into invisibility
everything but the colour,
like any memory will.
-
A green t-shirt,
it looks up at me lostly,
toyishly small,
from some forgotten shop
bought at some forgotten time.
A childhood comfort still smiling
but not soft anymore.
The front’s all robots smashing apart tower blocks
with tin pincers and laser vision.
People’s screams of indicision.
Staticky speech bubbles,
broken car windows,
exclamation marks.
And a Marilyn monroe type
in the midst of the fray,
bra half-undone,
hand cupped to her mouth
Calling into some furious colonised sky
into which I pinned my sun.
-
A cornish cream baby grow
with grandmother stitched flowers
hours of sowed leaves.
A polka dot horizon
and an orchard's evening shadow
from a lifetime’s washing.
It showed.
So I sowed my mechanical horrors
and it’s crimson fear atmosphere
onto the pastel world.
And now it’s all there.
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 8:11 PM UTC
And yet the books will be there on the shelves, separate beings,
That appeared once, still wet
As shining chestnuts under a tree in autumn,
And, touched, coddled, began to live
In spite of fires on the horizon, castles blown up,
Tribes on the march, planets in motion.
“We are, ” they said, even as their pages
Were being torn out, or a buzzing flame
Licked away their letters. So much more durable
Than we are, whose frail warmth
Cools down with memory, disperses, perishes.
I imagine the earth when I am no more:
Nothing happens, no loss, it’s still a strange pageant,
Women’s dresses, dewy lilacs, a song in the valley.
Yet the books will be there on the shelves, well born,
Derived from people, but also from radiance, heights.
2.5k
They walk beside me
always late for something.
Quickening loafers
compete against themselves
emphasising their importance.
Go!
Choking on their breath
in an over-zealous attempt to identify
What's freedom?
This fastened reality
Punctures inner peace
my energy disperses
Like a balloon buzzing as it loses momentum.
When did Life become a marathon?
When will I decide where I want to be?
Conversations shout themselves out..
an energetic argument before their words reach the air..
Will you ever confront your disguised pains?
My mind's elsewhere..
I'm trying to figure out
the last time I saw your body unclench itself.
And i'm a little confused,
because I don't know whether to accept your denial
or
continue to disconnect from reality.
And I question,
If we all mirror eachother, what part of myself cannot find peace in you?
I observe this anxiety in motion
stuck forever in a hurry
leading itself down roads that end where they began.
And I wonder,
*If their legs were to rest
would they have to pick their head up from the floor?*
Like buddhas in a city,
their lives are a fast forwarded tomorrow
as the present hurries along.
And I ponder,
Does the truth stop blinding when silence doesn't teach?
A quickening motion
Changing with every step.
Acceleration..
human race...
Go!
Chasing of thy death..
Apr 17, 2012
Apr 17, 2012 at 7:15 PM UTC
The cows are mooing,
sheep are bleating, and the wind --
disperses the seeds.
Sep 2, 2022
Sep 2, 2022 at 3:15 AM UTC
budgie soft feathered
yellow green plume
when with him together
goes fog of gloom.
dance he prances joyous
with enchanting grace
when his feathers brush
it's only happiness.
his sweetly gaily spin
crazy acrobats
sparks a light within
moves hands in claps.
on fingers loves to roost
his nails softly *****
gives my spirit boost
cloud disperses quick.
snuggles up to me
heart he easy wins
my dolly jolly budgie
I fondly call him Prince.
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 12:13 PM UTC
Exceptional grins of jagged pearly whites
adorn skeletal masks
suffocating your mangled breath
as curled fingertips scrape against dirt.
Flesh, charred and soiled
hangs brilliantly from serrated bark.
Bleached bone barbed at the spine
where charcoal dragons dig infected beaks to feast.
A single mountain of shadow stands
before lacerated skies
a portal of inviting mayhem and madness
concrete pathways twist to its starving mouth.
Horned beasts hobble on disfigured limbs
dragging their sins across heated ground.
Hungry for souls dipped in blood
the scent of rot disperses like fog.
Rickety witches stir boiling cauldrons
with ossified tendrils,
saliva oozes from cracked lips
as you're watched from a distance.
No escape from the blackened sludge
as it wraps on the nape of your neck,
gurgle out pitiful screams of fright,
welcome to halloween.
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 12:29 AM UTC
He disperses like a tame cat
consumed by sober clarity!
Letters shrinking in one torn down area
his impermanent antisocial self righteousness.
Never a bottle in his hands he sinks
never affecting change in anything!
With determined stride outside
those who don't labour dying on societies cost.
Never with a cat they seem to carry around most proud and smooth.
To no one he is a sunken benefit on death's path he is found!
This shrinking letter who give a toss
stand still like a functional individual!
Contributing everything, but stopping strife a temporary petty threat!
Shrinking as society stops coming together from the top it will end!
Purity, modesty and charity the new news society won't uphold!
The Blind Author.
Jul 3, 2012
Jul 3, 2012 at 5:57 AM UTC
Adieu chère maison de mes ancêtres
Cette fois ci, le sort en est jeté,
Les acquéreurs improbables, les propriétaires chimériques,
ont consigne la somme convenue sur les fonds du notaire.
Et toi, chère maison, tu vas changer de famille et d'amours.
Désormais, nos enfances envolées, ne retrouveront plus le secours,
des vielles boiseries et des tapisseries centenaires,
de toutes ces armoire en châtaignier et ces commodes de noyer,
auxquels nous rattache encor comme un fil invisible,
tant de senteurs, d'images et souvenirs fanés.
Et le tic-tac mélodieux de la vieille horloge dans l'entrée du 19.
Et ces mansardes, chargées d'objets hétéroclites que nous aimons tant fouiller.
Quant au jardin qui aurait pu être un parc,
comment oublier ses massifs de groseilliers et ses fraises des bois ?
Et les plants de rhubarbe, la sauge aux grandes vertus, aux dires de grand-mère.
Ainsi que les allées de marguerites, attirant les abeilles,
plus **** remplacées par des rosiers blancs, roses et rouges si odorants.
Cette maison de famille qui résista a tant de coups du sort,
a péri des impôts et des frais d'entretien du jardin,
du manque de modernisation aussi. Alors que tant de logements sans âme étaient construits.
Surtout de l'âge et du départ de sa chère maîtresse, ma mère, qui y avait trop froid et ne pouvait y vivre seule.
Et aussi un peu, ma franchise l'admet, du manque d'initiatives et de goût pour l'association de nous tous, de notre fratrie.
Certes l'on pourra trouver bien des excuses.
Les uns furent trop **** les autres manquèrent de moyens.
Mais dans mon fors intérieur,
Je sais que cette maison manqua surtout de notre audace et de notre courage commun a la faire vivre.
Aussi notre maison de famille fut comme abandonnée a son sort par ses enfants disperses par la vie.
Pauvre maison, nous n'avons su te garder; puisses-tu tomber désormais dans des mains aimantes, artistes et vertes !
Paul Arrighi
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 9:25 AM UTC
eyes of sea
caged wingbeats
the only hint
behind the visage of indifference
the shroud that daylight imposes
and darkness disperses
for beneath lies
pain
desire
whispers of oblivion
desperation
that draws forth tears
mixing sleep and wakefulness
yet
somehow
granting more peace
than the glittering sands
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 12:21 AM UTC
Trapped in the definition of his interior,
he had become an invisible thing.
In moods deeper than dark ebony
repetitive folding and unfolding of nefarious reasons
pushed him to step outside his restricted vision.
Lost perhaps?
Or provisionally eclipsed?
A luminous slash hinged his door,
the cicatrice between brooding paralysis and explicit dreams.
............
Here on the ledge,
teetering on the cusp of obscurity and mountains blinding peak,
his sight catches a net
streaming from an open window-
billowing freedom.
A metalic thread glitters through him,
its coppery tang branching across clenched fibres
igniting his fingers, his tongue.
A mute cloud disperses.
He stands in the presence of a revelation.
Through the smoke of his eyes
he steps off the threshold
plunging into burnished sun,
his head incandescent with foreign scents.
copyright © Caroline Grace 2012
Feb 17, 2012
Feb 17, 2012 at 6:35 AM UTC
I feel like a puddle in front of a school.
Having children jump in me one after another as they see me on the ground.
But every time you jump in a puddle,
the water disperses..
the puddle gets smaller from the water splashing out.
And oh my,
far too many feet have dipped their toes into the hollows of my being for me to feel functional.
I feel as if I’m shrinking like that puddle in a sense.
Tainted by ***** shoes making permanent alterations to my pre-existing form.
Maybe sometimes there’s no “adaptive responses.”
The only way for the puddle to fill and grow again,
is for more rain to fall.
But there are no clouds in this sky of “me.”
Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 10:23 AM UTC
The Sky wearing the saree
Woven from the Clouds
Oozes the elegant showers
The younger leave touched
By the first rain drop
Is dancing in joy
The wet earth graced by showers
Disperses the perfume of soil
May 28, 2018
May 28, 2018 at 12:30 AM UTC
If we were villains
the world would topple
in tears embellished
with contrite sorrows
drowning the ruins
six fathoms under
while life disperses
above dim waters
the moon remembers
how the light lingered
before the sun left
spread of the heavens
now the staid headstones
markers of memory
stand in the darkness
aside calm marshes
perhaps gods forget
wrongs done in anger
when outcomes linger
past best intentions
the bones are scattered
in perfect hindsight
remind all of outcomes
if we were villains.
© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190101.
Jan 1, 2019
Jan 1, 2019 at 11:43 AM UTC
Her bare feet and palms are the shade of half ripe maroon dates.
Her strong silhouette, a gazelle at sunset.
Eyes are dark brown granules of coffee.
The clanks of gold jewellery on her forehead and ankles,
her sweet aroma of roses fused with jasmine saturate air.
Her fiery soul - a wild Arabian horse yet untamed by bedouins.
Her sun kissed skin glimmers under sunlight;
falcons are constrained with the touch of her fingertips.
She stands tall as she carries her pride,
tall as she hums with the gentle birds.
We ancient women, are an unbroken chain of tribal ancestry,
interlinked by blood and soul. Our lineage, a mother's lullaby,
carried by the wind that disperses sand,
wind that shakes the core of oceans.
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 3:30 PM UTC
'Does the sower
Sow by night,
Or the ploughman in darkness plough?' — William Blake
On this night
black as innocence lost
buses, taxis, aeroplanes
plough with broken furrows
the fields of Castleknock, Dublin 15
after which the wind from a bottomless bag
disperses the tears
of every parent, shed
to fall on disturbed tarmac.
Before the rays of the sun
make pale the moon
and extinguish street light:
with junkie’s needle
and rotting reed, blot
in moon black blood
this balcony where I make myself scarecrow
keeping a watchful eye
for all the children taken.
Oct 1, 2010
Oct 1, 2010 at 2:59 PM UTC
You are the rainbow, living in disguise
In shades of grey, between black and white.
When you shine through me,
It disperses all colors of you,
Like I am the prism waiting for you.
You see, not all can see
How pretty you are from within,
And all I do is stand amazed
By colors of you in all shades but grey.
Nov 10, 2018
Nov 10, 2018 at 5:06 PM UTC
Purring, the big cat, prowls though the city,
Her grace resonating in the words of youth,
The rhythm of life beating within her heart,
Pulsing in the melting *** of cultural truth.
Unwholesome disenchantments; dispelled,
Crushing obsolete views of old generations,
One World, concepts, sweeping all before,
Welcoming the progress of mixed relations.
A Bohemian feline of change, so constant,
Wisdom, truth, acceptance, riot in her roars,
New wave embracing, all colours, all creeds,
Bigoted ignorance fearing sharpened claws.
The multi-faceted face, of free London now,
Don’t hate those who sneer, offer them pity,
Their time disperses on Thames ebbing tide,
Purring, the big cat, prowls through the city.
©Paul M Chafer 2016
Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 9:24 AM UTC
Within a room that shows me my breath,
Hairs stand alert on awoken skin,
My reddened eyes from last night's sin
Cause a smile, spreading illusion of death;
And through a double sheet of glass,
The light to my left gifts a pleasant view,
Vibrant colours cascade a wondrous hue,
That no painting in renaissance could surpass,
But does not last, and therefore, brings truth.
Vines hang their arms over weak fences,
Lovingly caressing with sweet tender kisses,
Stretching toward the ground fingers uncouth.
Tall trees reach for the stars throne,
Gallantly they stand in the background,
Alone, triumphant, and with silent sound
Hold their course like soldiers home-grown.
The industrial gloom weeps its ***** tear
And stains the window, ‘t does bear the light
Of broken branches; shining on a humble sight
Which illumes nests that Nature loves dear.
Birds build no foundation, while frosts breath
Engulfs the air, and smoke dances seductively
With heavy swirling mist, swaying her glee,
Hand in hand guides with him cancerous death.
Filthy sheep reside on the muddy fields,
Beneath blankets of the olde English cloud,
Hovering above cemented land over-ploughed;
Those show very well what modern age yields.
No rain, no subtle cry from heaven.
Long gone in retreat the grass of years past;
Sailing away over the horizon the ships mast
Which traverses the wild unknown region.
No flecks of blue glimmer in the sky;
Nor orb of fiery sun can be gazed upon.
Did the morning gift Auroras dim saffron?
Did it conspire and bring dullness to my eye?
Departed too have the scented flowers;
Even fruit hides away from their cradle,
No foliage, no bramble, laurel or myrtle,
All disappeared from ever shady bowers.
Honey is not made today, sulking are the bees,
And their cousins, shy-adventure disperses desire.
Evergreens remain, remain with adamant attire,
While their foes strip away naked their leaves.
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 8:16 AM UTC
Light surrounds
people, flowers, even
oysters on the half-shell.
Invaded by auras
unnoticed by others
I gather emanations
from fixtures, furniture,
and glances
toward your silhouette.
No object
radiates surrounding rainbows
nor disperses an essence
brighter than what
drops from the ringlets
cascading around your neck
when my insanity peaks.
Aug 31, 2013
Aug 31, 2013 at 11:50 AM UTC
Standing in the crowd I was
Surrounded by strangers
In the dead of night.
People from across the globe
Connected through this single
Experience. Sharing tells
And their walks of life.
The ball drops
And confetti springs
People look around in awe
As I look to
My right,
My left,
My front and back
I'm not surrounded by strangers
Anymore.
The Portuguese behind us,
the Brazilians to my left,
The 7. Foot New Yorker in front
The spaniards to my right
N in my group two new friends
From 2 hours away.
The crowd disperses
As we all say good bye
Carrying with us the joy
Of new life, friends and
An experience that connected
Us all.
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 2:20 PM UTC
sitting inside my head
thinking, contemplating
wondering what could be
SLASH
thoughts ripped through my mind
violently, unforgiving
the anger disperses slowly
anger from the interruption
now things are lurking
in the shadows
the corners of my mind
becoming more and more
courageous
now dashing in front of me
with no abandon
in my inner face
snarling
growling
clawing
gnawing
at my being, in my head
laughing as i go insane
and overjoyed that im now
out of my mind
Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 6:13 PM UTC
I lay down on the covers and listen
to the sound that wood makes when it moves
when it moves so slowly you can barely notice
as spiders crawl on the soles of my feet
they move unashamed like the
Lepisma saccharina
commonly known as the enemy
or silverfishes
under my floorboards
I have got no meter
it makes me write like a renegade dropout
smoking outside the doors of
junior high
but this is not poetry I write
it's testimonies
of how I looked further and never found
much of anything
I'd sweep quietness away with one sudden movement
like when smoke disperses
with a waving hand I can expel
all that is wrong like if I
broke the best china and saw the violets
in pieces of porcelain on the floor but
I know that silence is thick and
nothing ever breaks against linoleum
Jul 15, 2011
Jul 15, 2011 at 2:28 PM UTC
the summer disperses into
the asphalt
you disperse into my
conscience
& I cannot carry on
the sky was raw with
your pain
a pale blue and silent
agony
just before the dawn
the wind will shift in
your favor
& I'll waver in my
courage
to say you're wrong
the full moon seen in
the daylight
are all the words I ever
needed
to tell you of my song
May 4, 2012
May 4, 2012 at 1:19 AM UTC