"drowsy" poems
in the rain-
darkness, the sunset
being sheathed i sit and
think of you
the holy
city which is your face
your little cheeks the streets
of smiles
your eyes half-
thrush
half-angel and your drowsy
lips where float flowers of kiss
and
there is the sweet shy pirouette
your hair
and then
your dancesong
soul. rarely-beloved
a single star is
uttered,and i
think
of you
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Drunk as drunk on turpentine
From your open kisses,
Your wet body wedged
Between my wet body and the strake
Of our boat that is made of flowers,
Feasted, we guide it - our fingers
Like tallows adorned with yellow metal -
Over the sky's hot rim,
The day's last breath in our sails.
Pinned by the sun between solstice
And equinox, drowsy and tangled together
We drifted for months and woke
With the bitter taste of land on our lips,
Eyelids all sticky, and we longed for lime
And the sound of a rope
Lowering a bucket down its well. Then,
We came by night to the Fortunate Isles,
And lay like fish
Under the net of our kisses.
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The little cares that fretted me,
I lost them yesterday,
Among the fields, above the sea,
Among the winds at play;
Among the lowing of the herds,
The rustling of the trees;
Among the singing of the birds,
The humming of the bees.
The foolish fears of what may happen,
I cast them all away
Among the clover-scented grass,
Among the new-mown hay;
Among the rustling of the corn,
Where drowsy poppies nod,
Where ill thoughts die and good are born
Out in the fields with God.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 3:57 PM UTC
somewhere between the fourth and fifth
load of laundry,
sometime after breakfast~lunch,
now served in the USA at home,
as an all day meal, per the edict of Mcdonalds,
start fixing dinner, take a break, walk to the mailbox,
retrieve the post and quick retreat back inside,
ah that Texas sun, bilingual chili hot,
toss the unopened on the prior weeks pile,
cause everyone loves company
the home-cold-brewed ice coffee needs a filling
for the fridge has decided not to help
by automatically refilling the pitcher
even if it could
I, busy folding,
needing two hands
and all my teeth
for folding my master’s rocket ship
sheets
my master observes with one of his alternating demeanors,
this one, super silent watching, announcing that I need a nap:
*“don't you always say, baby,
take a nap when you can, baby,
for when you need one, baby,
you probably won’t be able, my baby”*
with selected-hand-led fingers,
he lays me down to sleep,
bids me to slow slide to dreamland, dinner will keep,
curling inside my frame, hands a-cupping my *******
telling me a drowsy tale, inherited from his mother’s womb
and his granddaddy’s tongue, mindful of his family’s history
there, is where, they find us,
dinner fixings burnt,
me and my five year old baby boy,
still sleeping fast, around 5pm, bodies enwrapped,
tied by blood and entwined in old nursery rhymes,
Texas tall tales of Pecos Bill,
me and my very own
nap-ster master
<•>
p.s. and they call me by my other name to wake me, momma
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 1:14 PM UTC
The day has now gone here is the night
It's twelve o'clock all lights gone out
Not a single soul no one insight
We look out the window no one about.
Eyes are weary we are fighting sleep
Time to clime up that wooden hill
Waiting for us is the bed and sheets
Tired and drowsy sleep we will.
The evenings are colder
The frost here again
But we are much older
And our health's not the same
So as we head to that slumber land
And we dream our cares away
We pull up the blankets with our hands
And say goodnight to the day.
Oct 24, 2018
Oct 24, 2018 at 4:43 PM UTC
∙∙∙◦◦•◎•◦◦∙∙∙
A little bit of summer
a little bit of breeze
in the days of warmer
love has so much-
to bring, come let us sing
A little bit of freesia
a little bit of lilac
never can resist a scent
-of Ms. Narine
Ogles, a morning scene
A little bit of sunshine
a little bit of eventide
caress upon the shores
-of such imagery,
passions of immortality
A little bit of cosmos
a little bit of crocus
in a glebe-like galaxy
stars white as daphne
from a garden of syzygy
A little bit of cerulean
a little bit of vermilion
shimmers the lucid lake
with trout's and doves
Golly! autumn is awake
A little bit of plowing
a little bit of sow
the hard workers of
-those pumpkins
reaps a stewful of zin
A little bit of snow
a little bit of flail
fly away as butterflies
hibernate as snails
Forging! a winters gale
A little bit of details
a little bit of trail
from dew drops of-
a frozen rose, icicles on
a drowsy bear’s nose
A little bit of sleeping
a little bit of wait
till the sun comes up
gray clouds strew away
spring is here to stay
A little bit of sprout
a little bit of grow
And can it be, on thee
an Epiphany shows
the Lords glorious prose
Jul 18, 2017
Jul 18, 2017 at 9:56 AM UTC
I looked out the window
and there is nothing left
all the snow is gone
it just melted in the pouring rain
The birds are singing
but the sky is gray
it reminds me of you
where were you yesterday?
Now there is silence in our home
We are one toothbrush short
and your belongings in the hall
make me feel cold with heater on
In midst of this chaos
a miracle occurs
my drowsy eyes make me see
last snowflake of this year
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 7:37 PM UTC
spring omnipotent goddess thou dost
inveigle into crossing sidewalks the
unwary june-bug and the frivolous angleworm
thou dost persuade to serenade his
lady the musical tom-cat,thou stuffest
the parks with overgrown pimply
cavaliers and gumchewing giggly
girls and not content
Spring, with this
thou hangest canary-birds in parlor windows
spring slattern of seasons you
have ***** legs and a muddy
petticoat,drowsy is your
mouth your eyes are sticky
with dreams and you have
a sloppy body
from being brought to bed of crocuses
When you sing in your whiskey voice
the grass
rises on the head of the earth
and all the trees are put on edge
spring,
of the jostle of
thy ******* and the slobber
of your thighs
i am so very
glad that the soul inside me Hollers
for thou comest and your hands
are the snow
and thy fingers are the rain,
and i hear
the screech of dissonant
flowers,and most of all
i hear your stepping
freakish feet
feet incorrigible
ragging the world,
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*Life is my current lover.
I swig her ephemeral taste from my cupped hands
worried as the golden, shimmering liquid rushes through
creases and cracks in my jaded hands.
Her mood varies through my stages;
at times she is of doting temper and roseate kisses
but when love evades her, most often than not,
her calloused hands damage the pearly flesh in tender
places,
and discontent paints a surly mood as she digs her crimson
brush against the canvas of my self.
Life is my inconsistent lover,
sometimes doting but most often than not abusive.
So I vowed my eternal devotion to Death.
We escape under the dark canopy of starless wings;
a tryst.
I eat of the forbidden feasts in the Kingdom of Hades,
grains of scarlet pomegranates staining my chapped lips.
Death has promised me perpetuity.
But until Life decides to release me from her capricious temper,
I shall long for the wintry, rainy comfort of my drowsy affair.*
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 12:35 AM UTC
The girl in the yellow overalls
Is wishing for sunlight
(somelight, sumlight)
To outshine her
(outline her, outlier)
And that sky blue blouse
(blows, blowsy)
Drowsy in the noon-day
(gloom-day, soon-day)
She'll grow up gleaming
(beaming, screaming)
****** ****** of crows
(rows, rows)
Rouse the sleeping
(keeping, beeping)
Alarm clock sun.
(gun. run.)
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 8:51 PM UTC
Before his teen age
turns the pages he dies
a life through years
of neglect for the frail
bony frame drowsy feet
dark sunken eyes
wandering the street
craving white pure
pleasures and dreams
sores moon crater arms
tributaries of ****
star marks parched skin
dry bloodied screams
of glorious pills injecting
intoxicated stuffs
forbidden fruits
trappings of worldly heaven
addictive octane ecstasy
tiger terminator of
a young man flourishing
now depleted sad
youth corrupted by a love
pursued but lost
eyes vacant trailed tears
pleading please forgive
me mom and dad
Mar 21, 2018
Mar 21, 2018 at 8:53 PM UTC
basically alive
these are your arms
they feel like words
stirring me drowsy..
fading the sounds
these are your arms
chasing my heart
into the rivers...
i just can't believe you're hugging me..after all this
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 1:20 AM UTC
Dim vales—and shadowy floods—
And cloudy-looking woods,
Whose forms we can’t discover
For the tears that drip all over
Huge moons there wax and wane—
Again—again—again—
Every moment of the night—
Forever changing places—
And they put out the star-light
With the breath from their pale faces.
About twelve by the moon-dial
One more filmy than the rest
(A kind which, upon trial,
They have found to be the best)
Comes down—still down—and down
With its centre on the crown
Of a mountain’s eminence,
While its wide circumference
In easy drapery falls
Over hamlets, over halls,
Wherever they may be—
O’er the strange woods—o’er the sea—
Over spirits on the wing—
Over every drowsy thing—
And buries them up quite
In a labyrinth of light—
And then, how deep!—O, deep!
Is the passion of their sleep.
In the morning they arise,
And their moony covering
Is soaring in the skies,
With the tempests as they toss,
Like—almost any thing—
Or a yellow Albatross.
They use that moon no more
For the same end as before—
Videlicet a tent—
Which I think extravagant:
Its atomies, however,
Into a shower dissever,
Of which those butterflies,
Of Earth, who seek the skies,
And so come down again
(Never-contented thing!)
Have brought a specimen
Upon their quivering wings.
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the day the city we built came crumbling down is the day i asked myself over and over again:
were you not level headed,
were you tipsy turvy,
were you drowsy eyed,
when there were earthquakes erupting from your palms?
were you even ok,
when you shoved me in the back of your "junk drawer" in your mind
did you even try to know what it felt like when i erased you from my wasted time
did you flight or fight
or did you even try to understand
when your palms were trembling like earthquakes?
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 11:01 PM UTC
Oh in the deep blue night
The fountain sang alone;
It sang to the drowsy heart
Of a satyr carved in stone.
The fountain sang and sang
But the satyr never stirred—
Only the great white moon
In the empty heaven heard.
The fountain sang and sang
And on the marble rim
The milk-white peacocks slept,
Their dreams were strange and dim.
Bright dew was on the grass,
And on the ilex dew,
The dreamy milk-white birds
Were all a-glisten too.
The fountain sang and sang
The things one cannot tell,
The dreaming peacocks stirred
And the gleaming dew-drops fell.
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*
*In the terrain of a barren forest
In the forlorn of a lost ship
In the godforsaken-ness of fate
In the inhospitality of people
Either sides of the dunes
There walks Majnun, in rugged clothes
There sings Meera, in wedded bliss
Both - immersed in the dreams of LOVEz
Both delicate, both innocent
Both pure, both true
Both fresh - like budding blooms
Both living in harmony with Nature
Waiting for Krishna's and Layla's arrival
Knowing their BELOVEDz will come
Both - still intoxicated in LOVE
Half closed, drowsy eyes,
Blurred vision, drunkard steps
They walk, dance, sing and fall
Awaiting their LOVERz call
Don't show complete callousness
Do not wake these LOVERz at all
From their disconsolate state of being
Let a dust-storm or lash of rain
Shake their heart and being
As if Krishna and Layla
Have shaken their soul awake
Startled at the LOVER'z touch
Meera and Majnun look around,
Astonished & glancing everywhere
Searching to find their LOVERz
"Where is Krishna? Where is Layla?"
They run wild - deliriously mad
Until they find a mirage & a silhouette
In the blank space of air around them
There they rest - sit and talk
They laugh and chat in LOVE
Only we realize and know that
There is no one around them
Yet only they can see their LOVERz
Only they can feel their BELOVEDz
To play a colorful game of LOVE
Let Krishna give Meera a kiss
Let Meera twirl one more round
Let Layla peck Majnun cheeks
Let Majnun sing one more new ballad
Thus till date they are remembered
As tragedy folk-lore's LOVE
Our tragic LOVERz-BELOVEDz
Our Meera-Majnun
All these happens on
Either sides of the dunes*
*
Jul 25, 2019
Jul 25, 2019 at 11:58 PM UTC
Romance, who loves to nod and sing,
With drowsy head and folded wing,
Among the green leaves as they shake
Far down within some shadowy lake,
To me a painted paroquet
Hath been—a most familiar bird—
Taught me my alphabet to say—
To lisp my very earliest word
While in the wild wood I did lie,
A child—with a most knowing eye.
Of late, eternal Condor years
So shake the very Heaven on high
With tumult as they thunder by,
I have no time for idle cares
Though gazing on the unquiet sky.
And when an hour with calmer wings
Its down upon my spirit flings—
That little time with lyre and rhyme
To while away—forbidden things!
My heart would feel to be a crime
Unless it trembled with the strings.
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_Tendrils of drowsy pleasure entice and hypnotise,
As daybreak storms; a rapturous collision,
Of distorted cadences and scintillating harmonies,
Between discarded blue-sky sheets._
Aug 23, 2019
Aug 23, 2019 at 5:13 PM UTC
When we were far
and very young, in a place with no roads to follow
only a winding path, a branch to grasp
a place to fill the hollow
Blue the summer, with drowsy daisies came
petals, petals, we drew circles round the sun
gold spun, our halo heads of pollen
gold the bees of sleepy flowers
amid clover grass heaven
Days we lived deep in hills
we were endless green, in unmapped countries
stretching past the farms afield, in other worlds
too far to see, we lived beyond the gray of days
and we were free, in the shining silver
of our hallowed hills of ever.
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 12:27 PM UTC
∙∙∙◦◦•◎•◦◦∙∙∙
Drowsy, as the eyes of mine sleeps
a joyride of fantasies, a jumping of sheep
so, the pages turning mama would red
while my feet are falling and
my arms up my head, hands unsaid
with a gentle rock and a soft abye
I'm off to dream land as I fly
silk of red swooped to the entrance gate
a little slip, a little slide till it fade
and gently I landed at the pearly lake
A boat by Venice caught me alone
with the breeze scented, so cold as snow
and Grims hoisting a whooper
a sure one they'll never throw
passing here and there and off they go
storms of Neptune came up the sea
big waves flung, I swung towards east
clovers led me to an isle and said
"How Lucky you'll always be"
no more thunders but just all reverie
A twirl to the woods, exciting it be
with beams of the moon
and the stars sitting on the tree
lights flashing, a calm of ebb
the spiders glistening, an artistic web
dream land is promising
like vines that whip and crawl
bearing fruit to bless us as we call
with roses of red, daisies blooms at dew
mama's lullaby at once, I knew
Sep 2, 2017
Sep 2, 2017 at 11:08 AM UTC
A boat amid the ripples, drifting, rocking,
Two idle people, without pause or aim;
While in the ominous west there gathers darkness
Flushed with flame.
A haycock in a hayfield backing, lapping,
Two drowsy people pillowed round about;
While in the ominous west across the darkness
Flame leaps out.
Better a wrecked life than a life so aimless,
Better a wrecked life than a life so soft;
The ominous west glooms thundering, with its fire
Lit aloft.
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Fields beneath a quilt of snow
From which the rocks and stubble sleep,
And in the west a shy white star
That shivers as it wakes from deep.
The restless rumble of the train,
The drowsy people in the car,
Steel blue twilight in the world,
And in my heart a timid star.
5k
a gift for Aladdin Aures H
from his 3rd follower...
<>><<>
the inescapable need,
unformed firmament
inquiring; am I capable?
the impulse palpable,
the urge to urgent,
to gorge and disgorge?
instead of morning prayers,
precomposed and ordered,
morning poem plucked from
morning fog, gusted breezes,
early-on, newborn sun rays,
progeny of disheveled skies
words fused, in irregular sizes,
senses censured by drowsy eyes,
but the chest beating arrhythmia
means bursts of free verses
superimposed on reluctant eyelids,
jigsaw puzzlement be re-conformed
and the first poem of the day,
emerges from the intersection
of mind, pale dreams, and the
first is special till the neu morrow,
when fresh bursts explode inward
to windward, and the first is just
yesterday's mesh of hash,
once formidable, now last,
pinned, yellowing, purely a
**descendant of the recent,
but always, ancient past*^
Jun 19, 2025
Jun 19, 2025 at 3:13 PM UTC
Vibrations of steel block engines have been lulling me to sleep lately
Eyelids swaying up and down like the back and forth of seaweed on the ocean floor
I count yellow dashed lines like others count sheep
Feeling my consciousness slip away, I’m drowsy, I’m dreaming
I dream of a golden city
A golden bay along golden grass rooted in golden soil
Golden streets with golden stop lights
Golden cars parked in golden parking buildings
Gold Telephone towers powered by gold electrical cables
I begin noticing something strange about this city, as it shone so brightly with a golden sun setting as the city’s own back drop.
There were no inhabitants.
No pigeons.
No stray cats.
No dogs scavenging for spare scraps on starving stomachs
Business Men in suits are found littering streets all around the globe. These streets lay barren
Little girls playing hopscotch and jump-rope gone as if the city misplaced them all.
My stomach dropping as I drop to my knees
Panic attacks bring back memories of family and friends
The beautiful faces of girls I once loved, and ones I may never be able to
Questioning if reality was the dream
I am alone in a wonderful Jungle
It’s not easy to be alone in a City of Gold
Oct 21, 2012
Oct 21, 2012 at 11:41 PM UTC
The sighing winds had lulled me here;
The waltzing boughs, too, had fallen for its charm;
The ivy, ferns, alders and the birches;
The quivering hemlock against my arm.
The travelled path was now long left behind,
And on hills of gentle moss I stood and gazed about
To find the purple cloak of twilight painting me,
And all the pines, not one left out.
II
The harvest moon in its splendour came rising,
Had poured itself on the waters deep;
The birds were silent, the wind still sighing
Had brought the woodland a drowsy sleep.
The dawn had come in golden light
And where I was I did not know -
I wandered long to find the path again,
And in the distance heard the river flow.
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 3:19 PM UTC