"divulges" poems
My mirror hangs stoic,
as silently it absorbs all it could with unbiased eyes.
All it receives under the day's sun.
Yet it never stores...
Not memories recent...
Not images perceived from the distant past...
My mirror
exists in the now.
It gives me only the present.
It reveals unequivocally the ground
upon which I stand.
It divulges only in the brutal and honest truth.
The kind of truth photographs could never tell.
Today it showed me what I've been seeing
with eyes half shut.
It showed me that,
I am older now.
Older than I was yesterday.
Older than I was a second ago.
Every wrinkle told a silent tale.
Every tale left quiet scars.
Every scar sang requiems of past mistakes.
And every mistake costed me my youth.
My mirror showed me that...
I'm older now because I've learnt much.
And I'm learning much more
because I'm older now.
May 11, 2016
May 11, 2016 at 11:15 AM UTC
How can I say "We're just friends"
When I taste you in my dreams
Your honeyed savoriness on my tongue
Formed itself
Useful
You dance like an angel
In the center of my pupils
Your song is exceptionally sweet
It humbles my spirit
Divulges me
That we are all just hummingbirds
Vigorously, hunting for a melody
Auctioning off welfares
For pleasures swimming in vain
Selfishly
We've never enjoyed the necter without the pain of
Piercing thorns
With handicapped feet,
We dream to fly
60 miles a beat
How I wish the breeze
Would carry me
Straight to your home of
Butterfly Weeds
Longing for the eightenth year, to sore away
Just as a sweet bundle in Mama's womb
In the nest we mature and anxiously wait
Extremities
Planted firmly on the dirt
His amour
Gives me wings
And, I flutter
His humming is a pleasing sound
Searching for a fullfillment
Two times our body weight
In the ebony of my skin
I inertly wait
Wishing for reincarnation
A
New
Life
Of a harmless, beautiful
hummingbird
Harmonizing its way
Across God's blue sky.
Copy Right 2013
©Patty Ann
Aug 12, 2013
Aug 12, 2013 at 4:16 PM UTC
The path is jagged and so I have been told
I feel so pathetic feel old
The canvas I started is thrown on the floor
The room is full of smoke
I cant help feel distressed
I’m hesitant of this mind of mine
I try and surrender but I cant find the time
When all is said and all is gone
Will I see you? Will you fall at my feet?
With pieces of me upon the mountains for only you to keep
I never tried to stay
I knew what I had to do
Wanting to inhale you into a line straight into my mind
Through amethyst moons and fields of love
You come undone and I have just brought you the sun
Pieces of me dwelling in your nerves
Every ounce of your resilience divulges me
You cant escape what you feel
I beat on this drum
Longing for love that is new
Watch you gaze at me with those shades on
Like an old hippie that just cant grow
Patchouli the fresh scent in your hair
Delicate and weak as you go
Spread your wings
Look at that light it forced itself in
I wanted to stay in bed and sleep
But for the reasons I have to live
It sneaked up on me anyway
It was a Wednesday an a dreadful day to fall in love
But as I crossed the road you caught me by my thoughts
Make sure you kiss the sky as you fly by
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 10:56 PM UTC
The poetic apprentice constantly
ponders and plans.
He dreams up wondrous writings that through critisms can stand.
He imagines mystical miracles he elaborates with his hand
Unending possibilities his vast
Mind demands
He scoures the depths and peruses vast heights.
He indulges crisp, cool mornings and envelops the nights.
He listens for lyrical lullabies and observes majestical sights.
He journeys throughout space
as he embarks on jaw-dropping flights.
The poetic apprentice searches
The depths of his heart
He dissects it and reads it
And tears it apart.
Then divulges it's secrets
And crafts them into his art
He wishes so dearly that his
Work becomes no disaster
He keeps his senses in tune
In hopes he'll one day be a master
As more work pours out the
Pressure grows faster and faster
But he'll slow down and humble himself
As his work evolves and becomes vaster
Now the poetic apprentice sighs
A great sigh of relief
He wipes off his brow
As he mumbles "good grief!"
His work is now over his
work is complete.
He knows they will like it.
Its his faith, his belief
The poetic poet now bows
To you, his work is bequeathed
Oct 23, 2020
Oct 23, 2020 at 11:39 PM UTC
Father do you see your children?
They are searching for promised Eden
leaders where are our answers?
We lie sleeping in the illusion of justice
We wake and search for our liberties
but our youth is poisoned with ill ideas
The mother cries that she cannot feed her daughter
The provider worries about health as clone animals are slaughtered
We worry about dehydration as chemicals leave our waters doctored
Drugs and guns create a society that is insecure and faltered
Young brothers who have received little education and truth are martyred
Institutions limit us to transparent information about how it all started
The Weeping Eye reveals the hurt and all that leaves us ill
The Weeping Eye divulges elements that disturb our free will
The Weeping Eye unmasks the men in suits who freedoms steal
The Weeping Eye opens the mind to the wars that leave us imprisoned
The Weeping Eye shakes us as our innocence dies
How this eye frustrates ambition as you find it hard to fly
hard to fly in a world that leaves you mostly to cry
Cry for you have no one by your side to help the pain subside
which side to reside as the colours of flags leave us blind
Nowhere to hide as our homes are surveilled and we're made to bow or they'll have us tied
tied and locked in that place which is of darkness inside
The Weeping Eye will change your mind
When we're left to pick cults and sides
When the big picture is not seen of divide
Divide and keep the hate alive
These tears should uplift your consciousness
these tears drop to ground and form into a mark of sound
a sound which is a voice
the voice that compels you to make a choice
to be the rhythm of the Light and not of the Darkness noise
The Weeping Eye is a window and a reveltion of you and I. That soul is eternal and freedom bound.
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 12:01 PM UTC
Clutch this passing away...gold-fleck
with outpouring hands this sable
workspace.
Ruffle angelic feathers in a fit of
loving zeal...oblige them holiday.
Tear thy body to pieces of giving...
for lack of better place.
As there shall be places in store where
being may be moved.
It is right, as breath need not mind
to do so...as yet it does.
There's only rise in effortlessness...
and in that rise what is innate divulges
itself.
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 11:51 AM UTC
Think summer dressing in Australia and Zimmermann has always been front-of-mind. No surprise then, that it was the first Australian label to be picked up by Net-A-Porter 10 years ago - a milestone that is being celebrated by Zimmermann’s fourth (yes, fourth) collaborative capsule collection with the company.
“We’re saying 10 years of good time,” says Nicky Zimmermann on the phone from the Zimmermann’s headquarters in Rosebery. “The actual concept can be in a matter of days, particularly if you have a really good feeling about it like this one.” For her sister Simone, she remembers speaking to Net-A-Porter about it in February - “they were extremely supportive, they’ve always understood the whole designer space,” she says. “You do these sort of things and it’s one day at a time.”
For her favourite piece, she zeroes in on a printed dress with a lace trim. “I just know that I would wear it to a beautiful dinner or a wedding somewhere overseas. It’s got a lovely, relaxed vibe and lots of detail.” Each and every element is exclusive to the collection, from the lace to the print. “Nothing is anything we’ve used before,” Nicky explains.
Evolving from a Paddington market stall 25 years ago to six US stores and more to come (next on the list: London) is no easy feat. “Zimmermann have always had an international perspective,” says Maria Williams, a Net-A-Porter buyer who has worked with the label since starting at the e-tailer in 2010. “They were one of the first Australian brands to go global. They set their sights on the US by setting up stores in New York and L.A. and they’re continuing to grow. They have managed to tap into what every woman wants to wear globally… What’s been integral to the brand since its inception has remained but their move to show at New York Fashion Week and developments in terms of their fabrications have certainly elevated its position on the global fashion stage.” The label will also be moving to a larger US office in New York. “There’s more infrastructure in terms of general staff joining that team,” divulges Simone - not that she’s forgetting Australia too, since she also mentions the Paddington store that will relaunch in July.
“The essence of what we do is always there,” says Nicky. “On the design end, myself and the design team are better for each collection. It’s not where I want to be if I want to be only as good as my first two collections, 25 years ago!”Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com | www.marieaustralia.com/vintage-formal-dresses
Jul 1, 2016
Jul 1, 2016 at 2:14 AM UTC
her heart burns with fiery passion
it sparks in moments unfathomed
her mind converses
in soliloquy
it reigns above knowledge
unconquered
her facade divulges
the potency of strength
it conceals the scars
and wounds unhealed
still she stands ablaze
clothed in golden streaks
and red flames of life’s
euphoric haze.
May 30, 2017
May 30, 2017 at 10:37 PM UTC
the riddle of its ties
lies in the reels of her thighs
an event of demonic rise
temptation of an occult order a device
all the truth hides behind her eyes
her eyes bleed black lies
the brightness of clarity divulges spies
and knowing the game you'll know why
why they want to shackle the man who tells no lies
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 2:57 PM UTC
So sick,
sick of the torment
the shattered fragments
of words spit
from momentary rage.
So sick,
sick of the silence
the endless dialogue
running through my head
to find nobody around
to hear me out.
So sick,
sick of the lack of
nothing being enough
the void between where I am
and where I want to be.
So sick,
sick of the questions
the continuous banter
that means nothing.
So sick,
sick of the ********
the tiresome surface
which rarely divulges,
more.
I want more, more,
but wants shall not be received.
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 11:56 AM UTC
comes from the earth
a flower roughly
divulges tenderest
colours in early
morning dew lathered
becoming immutable
unbreaking
destroys
Apr 22, 2012
Apr 22, 2012 at 11:34 PM UTC
I’ve found a writer that I love
Whose hair hangs loose like wild-flowers
Eyes shaped like almonds
And a smile that I swear set fire to the rain forest
And how weird this must be for me
Because I promised myself I’d never fall in love with someone who saw the curves in my sadness the way only a writer does
But I can’t help but cling to the way he uses his words with me
He has a clear, concise understanding of the fact that although I am a lover of words I am equally in love with someone who does not waste them
He is particular in his speech the same way he is particular in the way he consumes me
His words are just as strong as his love is
His mouth devours me the same way he divulges his truths
The way his light is as iridescent as the sun during the season of Christmas
But I swear his darkness is just as beautiful.
I am bound to the way my name flows off his lips and
His unconscious need to be near...
Whether it is his hand writing inches from mine
Or his legs stationed beneath me
Or the way he sleeps with gentle interludes
He wakes to touch me
Not to see if I am next to him because …he knows any bed that he is in, I am insurmountably indebted to.
He wakes to touch me
To let me know that he still dreams about me in his sleep
That he still wakes thinking of me even though there is no measurable distance between us
He wakes to touch me
Whether it be the “You are love” from his lips
Or the “I am yours” that he mouths
Or the way he makes both Chai tea and coffee for me, only for him to drink which one I decide to reconsider
He wakes to touch my being
And on the days I need to fall away for a little while
Whether I become consumed in a book or indebted to some instance of nostalgia
He waits for me...
And upon my arrival back to our world that we have created… he simply sits a note under our wedding picture …
“I am missing from you”
And I kiss the lips of the love at which I am bound
With a note in my hand
“I can only go without my breath for so long, for I have been longing to come back to you”
And as we find our way back to this place time and time again...
His arms wrap around me whispering “I am here”
By: Indigo Morrison
Feb 20, 2014
Feb 20, 2014 at 11:48 AM UTC
A heart beat, so soft and sweet.
The red rose grew, for thee eyes to seep through.
The love thy felt, no words could tell;
For underneath the disguise lies beauty that hides.
A gentle touch, deceives much,
For thee to speak, confusion emotions make thy weak.
Heart ache not for pain, but mystical devotions scream thy name.
Endeavoring to be stole thy strength,
Inquiring what is real, correlating to what is fake.
Feeling condemned in one’s life, scavenging for more time
No more time to think, for this thy see;
Thy judgment will soon be received.
Though vow I looked upon, I once held in my arms;
But now it devoured, clock ticks another hour.
Thy sin remained, pour down the rain.
I can’t recant what thy tongue divulges;
So forgive thee, seize thy all.
For thee don’t obtain much;
Thy apologetics are just simple words, a prayer.
Though thy not worthy I call upon,
One that makes thee forgives, forget
Even the little things that hold thy pain back.
Uncommitted to do what’s right, just what’s wrong to thee eye.
Thy depleted all I could, nothing left for thee;
So let thee be.
Here thy am crying,
Wondering why, when they only going to die.
Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 1:46 PM UTC
activating the simple
motion of her hips
she divulges the
languid perspicuous rivulets
of her sensual
into the immaculate ocean
of this infinitely crisp
winter city
Jan 1, 2012
Jan 1, 2012 at 5:53 PM UTC
Silence divulges into me all I need to hear
Leisurely and trance like
Enveloping my entire make-up
Powerfully gentle
Nurturing-ally soft
Warm, vast yet comfortably compact within its nothingness
Such a healing form of pleasure
An acme of its own
Aggressively soft and beautiful aims for my deepest
From there, radiating back outward
Seeping and sinking through and into my skin
This is my periodic rebirth
Ultimate bliss in this
In this music
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 7:06 PM UTC
I want you to teach me what love is…
I want you to puzzle pieces of this broken heart building trust with every shattered sentiment of this abandoned purity.
I want to listen to your heart beat describe my inner beauty
Within shadows of your intrinsic sweet ballads.
Sweat tears of joy while you are masquerading an earthly angel with every inch of my presage albatross.
I want someone who will give me a prayer, when they's nothing else to offer.
Someone who will give me a smile when they's little less to give.
Remind me how deeply I'm adored over and over again - because every repise divulges pleasure when the chorus hits a break-point of repitition.
Spill unforseen rays of silver moons to glitter my dark sides with blessings of golden pots. My blood to reach a boiling point orchestrated by conductors of your inferno touches, as you gently whipe the dust of this holy flash.
Living is not by choice, Christ; I want someone I would die for.
Meditate under spells of her beauty hypnosis.
My vision to deminish with the sunset of your perfection. With crystal streams of black strings, as the waterfall of your hair lands peacefully at the river banks of your luxuriant shoulders.
I want us to fight till we can't stand each other...
I want us fight till we can't look at each other...
Yet remain together like a kappa logo; a depiction of true love in a series of fury.
I want you to teach me not to forget you, till leaves become broken hearts and shade conquers the village once again. Do things to me that will leave a distasteful essence of any lingering woman before my sight in a cloud of shameful auras.
I want you to love this child as if he's your own, and teach him the first step of being a real man. Shower him with hugs and kisses that ought to polish his shining armour, so you can notice your sheep amongst the million.
I want you to teach me what love is, so I can reflect the given image of this heart in a bundle of loving mirrors.
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 9:07 AM UTC
Oh, they have them.
Yes, they have plenty.
The secrets men know about you.
But out of respect refuses to divulges them to protect you.
Yes, the secrets men know.
About your past, about your affairs.
About secrets of things, you have done.
Sure, there are some just love to blaze you.
In similar ways most women love to do.
Then when harm comes, they seek to apologize.
Sure, what done in the dark eventually come to light.
Except some never will from the secrets men know.
Oct 11, 2024
Oct 11, 2024 at 4:39 PM UTC
Born to beg
Human touch
Ask of it
Sell myself for it
Inauthentic thrift
Fed winter's coal
Drinking the winter sleet
A conscious envelope
Sympathy divulges vanity
The mind is borne on spines
Beaten backs and chalk lines
The factory smog blanket
The film reel is tainted
Nullified by the future
Blood is upheld through drink
Or the scraps 'neath the kitchen sink
Mistress and minstrel
Colliding in such fashion
The green of grass but the soil
Which accentuates the home
The smoking pipe for the open mind
And love's ill script
Black soot of night, laid on wheat
The farmer's purple grain
The miner earns alone
Jan 11, 2019
Jan 11, 2019 at 2:12 PM UTC
Deep within myself
Lies a different “me”
Who is untouched
By my nuances
My happiness, my sorrow.
He watches as I make mistakes
And the same mistakes
And the same mistakes again
Mistakes that lead to my happiness
Then sorrow.
But he remains silent
Sometimes he gives
Me subtle hints
A glimpse of a path
Untrodden
But filled with promise
I try to
Walk that path
But it’s difficult
Due to changing needs
That divulges me
From my path
I am trying to walk
That path even now
But God those screamers
Whose voice is so
Tempting to hear
They offer a clear path
Without hindrance
But Alas! After a short
While I found myself
Standing on the edge of a cliff
Compelled to make a decision
Not so with his path
Though I tread slow
Atop rugged terrain
Covered with fog
Always there is certainty
of a blessing nearby
gentle consoling voices
that inspire me
to go ahead
breaking the fog
but the screamers
never go away
And in the end
I am torn
Between paths
Only that
When I am forced
To jump from that cliff
I always find
The ocean
Whose tides
Return me to shore
To start over again
And the glimpse
Of his path
Beckon me once more
I do not know
What lies on the other
Side but still those blessings
and those soft whispers
of solace
Reinforce my hope
To move on.
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 3:35 PM UTC