"eased" poems
Casualty: my interest fading
Once waxing moon now seen waning
And I did concede your irksome warning
And watched as the rest played out
So let bygones be gone, fallen out by the side
Of this road, worn down, still restless, keeping straight
Eyes glinting off token little bits of hospitality
Mother nature being so inclined at times
The stress so unnerving, I hardly doubt it
But tension is eased once it comes to acceptance
And I accept in full, finding time to unwind
Winding stretch of lonely road, dotted here and there by
An occasional landmark
Or a lonely tractor pulling behind it
Iron bars, old and rusted
Found in their hold
Bales of hay or
A small little pond
With a bench beside it
Holding initials carved against the grain
With a heart surrounding
As mine beats slower
At last, the sun begins going down
And the moon grows brighter
Even in its state
And my feet move faster
Though my body is withering
I feel this separation growing
As my mind takes flight and leaves me
Behind, in the twisting twilight
And alone, I walk along
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 6:31 AM UTC
Strange malaise,
One I can't place.
Struggling of late.
Discomforting state.
Persistent lethargy.
Sloth-like and heavy.
Burning internals.
Frequent intervals.
No temperature.
No warning lever.
Don't know what's wrong.
Been rather long.
Medicine trough
Can't rid me this cough.
Expulsion so violent,
Incessantly recurrent.
Over a fortnight
This ailment I fight.
Still hasn't eased.
Can't be appeased.
Development is seen.
Now spitting green.
Not just all
That joined this brawl.
It's just the coughing.
No injury I'm suffering,
I haven't bled...
But I see red...
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 12:46 PM UTC
What we have named Fire Escape
(an ordered, angular tangle of ladders and rail)
had made picture geometries in my west window
well-framed and flat--set foreground and background
in two dimensions, as the sun hid,
and my round eye opened.
What we have named Fire Escape
was flaked-paint brown orange, as if
first it had been born of a flame
and then had taken up living as metal--
tempered itself into usefulness,
which I should trust now, in case of the yelling
and the engines.
What we have named Fire Escape
was happy Jungle Jim or Jungle for Jane
for the sparrows I saw this morning
which flitted and wildly played
within, rising up
arched and back again.
Made of the square pairs of ladder rungs--
a tunnel entrance or ducking posts,
or highway bridges to clear;
the birds like small plane, daredevil pilots
each following each, going under.
No sparrow would ever crash.
And what is this I remember now?
How one bird eased its engine and perched there to stay?
As if to offer me, with a little turn of head gesture--
a thank you, for the bread I'd left on the sill? Or to say
I'd better shut the curtain and make my exit?
Either prideful guess gets me nowhere fast.
Failed even is speaking in any sparrow languages
from my recline stuffed chair; again, but now imagined,
to draw beady eyes to fix on me, telling me much less.
That morning, with the very last sparrow gone,
I remember that nothing in my sight moved,
save an American flag at a distance in the wind,
with its one red-white striped wing
waving toward the cold north,
as the white church spire,
framed in open quadrilaterals,
held its position.
Apr 15, 2013
Apr 15, 2013 at 5:18 AM UTC
I was in a darkness of my own
Within a night I had not known
I chose to stumble in my pace
With all hope of light misplaced
On my course a twinkle caught my eye
A lonely star in the sky above
Getting ever brighter as I drew nigh
Then did I see the truth thereof
It was a myriad in mutiny
A constellation that raided the night
Luminous in its beauty
A radiance which compelled my sight
I was in a darkness of my own
Overcome by a light unknown
That eased my path in grace
And all lost hope replaced
It reclined in the cosmos
Calling out to me
Seeming within reach almost
Then I blurred back to reality
A marvel that pulled my soul
By more than figure of speech
To be part of a whole
My flesh could never reach
How daunting a brilliance
I longed for though farfetched
My heart need travel a distance
Fear served only to stretch
It held my tarrying gaze
For only a moment more
Then left me in a daze
Stealing that which I adore
I again stumble in my pace
Having lost my stars in space
Returned to a state I now bemoan
I am in a darkness of my own.
Dec 28, 2018
Dec 28, 2018 at 5:49 PM UTC
I sigh at day-dawn, and I sigh
When the dull day is passing by.
I sigh at evening, and again
I sigh when night brings sleep to men.
Oh! it were far better to die
Than thus forever mourn and sigh,
And in death's dreamless sleep to be
Unconscious that none weep for me;
Eased from my weight of heaviness,
Forgetful of forgetfulness,
Resting from care and pain and sorrow
Thro' the long night that knows no morrow;
Living unloved, to die unknown,
Unwept, untended, and alone.
7.2k
It was cold city night,
The hours with sounds dying,
It seemed life had escaped,
To the other side of the world,
I rocked for hours with my child in my hands,
I dreamt about her life to come,
Like I often did,
A little eased at the fever subsided.
As I slipped into the clutches of sweet slumber,
My head slumped down,
In what seemed like a blink of an eye,
My head swung up to search the sky,
Where the gold of the sun
Seemed to chase away the night,
But there was something not right,
The morning seemed to bring a sense of change,
Not of the good kind.
As I felt my child, burning up like the coming sun,
I hurried my way to the physician,
Like a saint he answered to my prayer,
Asked me to wait behind while he tried to cure my life,
I never realized until he gave me the handkerchief,
That with my baby I’d been crying,
Her cries echoing foul against my ears,
I’m hurting as much on my helplessness
To take care of my child,
Who is part of my flesh,
Part of my being on the verge of...
Part of my being that I brought to life.
I began to sing to my baby a lullaby,
“Don’t cry my child, I’m here right by you,
For you I sing this lullaby, so you may fall asleep.
In the moonshine, your face glows,
You look like the princess
A queen you’ll grow up into,
Leave me someday for your king,
But till then be with me always,
Even when you learn to walk,
My child, so I can fulfill your wishes,
So you’ll remember me always,
So I can protect you till your king comes,
So I can teach you to walk and run.
Don’t cry, you make me cry too,
Sleep now my child, tomorrow
We’ll begin anew, for you’re alright,
This discomfort will pass… Oh look!
It’s already morn, the sun shines bright!
I see you’d fallen asleep,
While I kept dreaming on,
Open your eyes my child,
A new day has come.
As I finish, I realize that you stopped crying,
But to my plea, you never opened your eyes.
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 7:57 PM UTC
Its the perfect kind of meditation,
smokin on that ****
eased my mind now im spacin,
sprouted a new life like a seed,
Getting to success minds pacin.
its the perfect kind of medication!
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 12:20 PM UTC
The fox
runs alongside the astronaut,
who looks at a picture frame.
Around the fox’s neck, a white bandana.
There, on the spooky
moon, his only company is the fox colored aluminum.
The aluminum
fur of the fox
blends into the moonscape. The ship is empty aside from them and the spooky
remanence of the rest of the crew. As the lone astronaut
works to return home, his only comfort being the bandana
and the picture frame.
The frame
that holds a photo of a woman, standing before the ship of aluminum.
Tied around her hair, the bandana
which has since been given to the fox.
The memories it brings ever haunting the astronaut
making the moon ever more spooky.
The spooky
feeling is not eased by the frame
as the remains of passed astronauts
are trapped in this aluminum
ship, the lone survivors being the man and the fox.
He keeps his thoughts on the bandana.
Her bandana,
given to him on a dark and spooky
day, which he then gave to the fox
so he may pretend the woman in the frame
isn’t millions of miles away from them. A fox of aluminum
and a lonely astronaut.
The astronaut
chooses to focus on returning to the woman without her bandana.
He works tirelessly to get the aluminum
rocket ship off the spooky
and desolate moon, and back to earth, to see the woman in the frame.
By his side on this barren rock, looking up at him, stands the fox.
The astronaut refuses to let the spooky
atmosphere deter him from his goal of returning the bandana to the woman in the frame,
ever thankful for the company of the aluminum fox.
Oct 30, 2020
Oct 30, 2020 at 11:03 AM UTC
Heartbeats fast
whispers and plans
a mother's heart conflicted
as she wrings her hands
through the courage,
streaming tears
she will let him go
despite her fears
Outside, canines barking harsh
men's cruel shouts
she must say her goodbyes
as the shots ring out
So many kisses
on his sweet, sleepy face
little man deep in slumber,
in angelic grace
yes, he cried for a minute
as the morphine kicked in
and she rocked him and rocked him
his little frame, so thin
Now as his father takes him
she crumples to the wall
"By the will of God may I see
him again" she whispers
for he is her all
Outside the freeze
puffs breath into clouds
the quiet imperative for
this next move:
Father gently slips son
into the rough-hewn jute,
No rotten potatoes today, no
this is far more important
No one will look for a tot
in a potato sack, he hopes
He looks around and slips
through the hole in the wire
These moments are critical
the need for speed is dire
A quick trip to the village
in the black cloak of night
looking over shoulder
Finally the house…it's just there,
the next meadow over
the secret knock is sounded
and the door opened in silence
warm arms greeting, helping
carry the goods inside
Will this be a respite
from all the endless violence?
Laid gingerly on the bed,
the sack is eased off gently
no potatoes inside
just a small sleeping boy
his parents only pride
Father strokes his hair,
Lays his palms on his head
to bless this bundle of sweetness
in his new environment
"I will come for you, my son"
tucks thin blanket around
and the deed is done
and now, in the cold lonely
smoldering air
of the burning dark
now in the kiss of hopeful protection
yes, now it's time to part
Back to his wife in the ghetto's
cold, sickened space
to try to convince her
to bust out of that twisted place
You are my warrior, you
and all the others
Your spirit beats on
in my
naked heart's
thunder
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 10:59 AM UTC
I hurt
I think it's loss and disappointment from
"Hopes" that were never born,
Which leaves me so forlorn.
Oh, and I cry
almost every day now
and I sigh,
then he always asks why....
The pain in my heart,
Why does it go so deep?
the way I weep;
I grieve so hard,
they say I even call & cry in my sleep.
Pictures in my mind of children at play
a dream, a hope, never to be.
My grandfathers were veterans of war, they say.
Agent orange says "one out of four" you see.
Uncle Sam says "no compensation" for me,
No big family to be all around me.
I think I'll give up on me,
sometimes....
"Please make it go away!" I say,
he can't,
and so he turns away.
Our future we cannot see,
afraid to dream,
afraid for me.
Going through the motions,
trying to do what's right.
Tried all the magic potions,
but too much DNA's twisted up too tight.
Now I'm hurtin and bleedin all of the time!
Doctor says its gotta go, this womb of mine.
Adenomyosis, got into me, says I'll be fine.
But, no more babies! don't you see
I was not finished with my family!
I dont want to, but I know
I gotta go.
Now its gone,
still PMS-ing
Now I'm not healin' right!
Its depressing.....
8 weeks now, still not released
and the mourning has not eased
Anger abounds when i awake
but I can't eat,
so then I shake.
So I just cry,
and blessed be,
ask God, Jesus and the angels
to have mercy on me
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 8:05 PM UTC
Dinner is done
everyone's settled
the evening.....like the moon.....is full...
the weight of the night has itself eased into mine,
my expected moment of slumber...now distraught...
the Heavens are purpled
twilight drapes have fallen,
winds of March...bellow
.........my pillows
..............are hollowed
.......................by my elbows
......as a distant rooster crows........
i lie on my abdomen...legs swing back and forth,
catching inspiration, a word, a daydream...a thought,
i grab a pen falling, i grasp a journal, a book,
...............everything is within reach
but, not...the....long..................stretch
of hours....of a sleepless night...whence
....spiced...spiked...and sugared memories...
..........accompany me...and sail with me
.......as i cruise along this lethargic sea
'neath a silent dark, where aches are loudest
.........domed, by an unworded loneliness,
i am wearied by a flow, that is endless,
.....this minute...imagination is ceaseless
........i reach for my mug....but, it's empty
.........................i hear no liquid seething
this moment, a dark sea, should be brewing....
this hour, verses must be a river, overflowing,
...enfolding, this cool and starry, starry evening...
.......i am caffeinated....even without coffee....
Sally
Copyright March 23, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Mar 23, 2017
Mar 23, 2017 at 1:49 AM UTC
1129
Tell all the Truth but tell it slant—
Success in Circuit lies
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Truth’s superb surprise
As Lightning to the Children eased
With explanation kind
The Truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind—
4.8k
It was a restless night denuded of sleep
So since it was warm and windless
I hit the streets
Walking under ancient oaks draped in Spanish moss
My path inevitably led to where
Everything was at a complete loss
Crescent Moon Memorial Cemetery
For the dead
Where all lie below earthly care
Was where my feet had somehow led
Row upon row of forgotten names
In all of their endeavors
Have been eased of their earthly pains
And now as I trudged by at a quarter to three
A low chorus and chords of music
Through the mists came floating to me
It startled and intrigued
What now is this ?
So I had to go see for myself
And I silently crept to where came the origins of bliss
In a circle of bench seats and monument stones
The strangest thing I saw , that of the unborn
Ghosts and skeletons playing with bones and singing in moans
A see through piano , trombone , bass , saxophone and a silver cornet
And one wailing guitar completed the set
On the translucent petal bass drum
Was the name of the ethereal band
And to a catchy tune I began to hum
Crescent Moon Memorial Buried Blues Band
The epitaph on the vaporous drum stated
And I soon found myself a loyal fan
What seem like a lifetime they continued to play
Quaint rthyms and lyrics now made my day . . . and night !
As the sounds drifted across the river out onto the bay
But far off I heard the mornings cock's call
Then phiff . . . vanished all into the fog
Not a trace as if covered by an invisible pall
And then a ray caught the gleam in my eye
And I knew that when the time comes
Here's where I want to be placed after I die
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 8:38 PM UTC
I never chose to be heartless
My heart broke, I just couldn't keep the peaces
I Never thought anyone could ever mend it
To myself I thought "what's the use of keeping something broken?"
I lost hope..... My mind was filled with hatred, I turned into a lier, a busted ,a **** ,a hypocrite, a traitor you name it... Just to get my revenge ,everyone was a victim I just didn't care, I knew I wasn't fair But it eased the pain When you and I met ,no lie I got your name. On the list too But you were different,you got me patient,got rid of the fatuous me.... Then you gave me your heart ,gave me Hope, taught me how to love Without knowing I was deeply falling for you My heart grew fonder,started caring ,feeling,loving..... couldn't believe it Thought my mind was playing tricks on me It wasn't I was in love once again.........
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 6:12 PM UTC
If you sit down at set of sun
And count the acts that you have done,
And, counting, find
One self-denying deed, one word
That eased the heart of him who heard,
One glance most kind
That fell like sunshine where it went --
Then you may count that day well spent.
But if, through all the livelong day,
You've cheered no heart, by yea or nay --
If, through it all
You've nothing done that you can trace
That brought the sunshine to one face--
No act most small
That helped some soul and nothing cost --
Then count that day as worse than lost.
3.9k
By Arcassin B
"Nerdy kid from Queens in the city that never sleeps,
Single moments without the peace and ability to be eased,
Simplicity to finding your dreams replacing the deeper means,
With a Genius intellect, No these kids can not rival me,
I was brought up and taught these things and took the blessings,
A misconception in human minds don't get the message,
Babylon in full effect ,is where we're all headed,
One day I'm gonna be something,I think manifest it,
My teenage years were pretty weird and wasn't kind to me,
Richard and Mary Parker was just distant memory,
If anything I found myself a remedy to cope with thinking why
I found all of this as a stranger dreaming,
Who knew one day I actually become a man?
Who knew one I'd actually have a real friend?
Who knew one day that I would be bitten by a radioactive
engineered Spider in the very end?.....
◾
(New Poem Titled "Responsibility" to Spider-Man Project Coming soon!)
Full Poem below⬇️
◾
©abpoetry2022
Jun 12, 2022
Jun 12, 2022 at 6:13 PM UTC
*all poems write themselves, following plans that are drawn only
as the poem goes along, neither leading or following, but
carrying the writer along as first violin, a VIP passenger,
the first viewer, a consultant but not a conductor*
***a poem is written based on what has happened
a poem is written based on what was hoped to happen
a poem was written based on what could never happen
but is so well imagined that it is more real than if it happened***
*I willingly tell you I will not tell you which is what, for there is no difference between them for the writer, the first passenger,
though undeniably fully aware of the quality of the ware
that is proffered, plottered or just perchanced
perhaps you are thinking, but of course,
this is the way,
the way of all of us,
the way it has and will be and no
disclaimer needed for no believable claims are made
perhaps
for the weave is oft tight, tight as near-truth, and so well imagined, it wraps the first passenger in a cloak of skin
that actually feels, though cloaks cannot feel,
but belief is easily eased
there are no lines or lies in my writings
there are no definitions and
perception is only your truth
Therefore,
my poems are splats and drips.
you make them into paintings that hang
in your own private museum
but authenticated by me as
first viewer,
3/13/18
1:09am
Mar 13, 2018
Mar 13, 2018 at 2:21 PM UTC
the sweet, innocent, happy girl
I used to be, only 5 years ago, is long gone.
Thrown away like a pile of garbage
& replaced by a zombie
Fueled by nothing more than fear, anger, sadness, & anxiety.
Not living; just breathing.
If she knew herself today,
She would be terrified of the monster she'd become
While her dreams were crushed right in front of her
& swept away by suicidal fantasies
And abuse of ecstasy
She saw.
She would probably be wiped away
Because she would have never guessed
She would become suicidally depressed
& at the age of 17, addicted to numbness
That eased her emotional pain.
Cutting, burning, drinking,
Taking so many pills she couldn't even think,
While almost by the minute,
Her anxiety and depression only got worse.
But what would surprise her the most
Was how she could even think of ending her own life,
Because she always knew suicide was never the answer.
But I guess after 2 years of constant anxiety,
Depression, hoplessness, & a life that didn't feel worth living,
It begins to feel like the only option.
Most painful of all,
She would hate to see her own death,
When the tiniest thread
Of the rope that once fully held her life together,
Bringing her hope,
Finally broke.
Crying, dizzy from all the pills she took,
She grabbed her blade and slide it across her throat.
Ending all hope for things to get better.
I'm sorry I'm not you anymore.
It shouldn't have ended this way,
But I couldn't live like that forever.
It had to stop
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 5:56 PM UTC
All summer we moved in a villa brimful of echos,
Cool as the pearled interior of a conch.
Bells, hooves, of the high-stipping black goats woke us.
Around our bed the baronial furniture
Foundered through levels of light seagreen and strange.
Not one leaf wrinkled in the clearing air.
We dreamed how we were perfect, and we were.
Against bare, whitewashed walls, the furniture
Anchored itself, griffin-legged and darkly grained.
Two of us in a place meant for ten more-
Our footsteps multiplied in the shadowy chambers,
Our voices fathomed a profounder sound:
The walnut banquet table, the twelve chairs
Mirrored the intricate gestures of two others.
Heavy as a statuary, shapes not ours
Performed a dumbshow in the polished wood,
That cabinet without windows or doors:
He lifts an arm to bring her close, but she
Shies from his touch: his is an iron mood.
Seeing her freeze, he turns his face away.
They poise and grieve as in some old tragedy.
Moon-blanched and implacable, he and she
Would not be eased, released. Our each example
Of temderness dove through their purgatory
Like a planet, a stone, swallowed in a great darkness,
Leaving no sparky track, setting up no ripple.
Nightly we left them in their desert place.
Lights out, they dogged us, sleepless and envious:
We dreamed their arguments, their stricken voices.
We might embrace, but those two never did,
Come, so unlike us, to a stiff impasse,
Burdened in such a way we seemed the lighter-
Ourselves the haunters, and they, flesh and blood;
As if, above love's ruinage, we were
The heaven those two dreamed of, in despair.
3.2k
This morning I woke up crying. It's strange, this has never happened before. I went to bed last night feeling numb, thinking that, this was God's way of helping me control my thoughts and feelings. I thought I'd continue to feel numb, until you were sure of what you wanted.
I didn't feel numb this morning.
The reason I'm sad is not because you may possibly be falling in love with someone else but the fact that you might be falling out of love with me. There's no question that we both care about each other and that we both would like nothing more than to make each other happy, that's who we are as people.
I have fun with you, I trust you, and I'm eased by your companionship.
My phone made an alert sound and I was instantly over filled with joy. In that brief second that it took me to pick up the phone, I had imagined that it was you saying that you still loved me unconditionally, and that you were sure that it was me, that it had always been me, and it will always be me.
It's okay though, I'm just sad. Just like how you are unsure and because of that you are sad. I've been praying, hoping that this time in our lives is happening because it will make us stronger and wiser.
That in the end, it will just make us love one another more.
I've known for a long time that I have been losing you, I can't say I don't blame you for becoming uncertain and distant with me. The truth is I have no idea who you'll end up being in love with. All I know is that I still love you and that I'm not quite ready to give up on you.
I can wait for you, forever, and I think you know that.
Everything is okay though. It hurts us both, but it's okay. In the end we'll know. I know you dislike long texts, I was thinking about writing all this down in my journal instead, but I really wanted to share my thoughts with you. I figured, what's the point of loving someone if you are too afraid to express your thoughts and feelings to them.
So I'm expressing them.
I love you.
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 10:04 AM UTC
Thank you for the love you give
I have my life but now I live
To show you something that is true
Beyond the two words of I do...
With our bodies we can touch
You will always be my mental crush
Through our lives we've felt the pain
Together we have eased our strain
Every path can be an aisle
To your heart to make you smile
Whatever it takes I will do
Overcome all obstacles to get to you
To feel your body by my side
Exposed to you I cannot hide
My words of passion I do deploy
To lift your spirit and bring you joy..
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 7:24 PM UTC
All out of doors looked darkly in at him
Through the thin frost, almost in separate stars,
That gathers on the pane in empty rooms.
What kept his eyes from giving back the gaze
Was the lamp tilted near them in his hand.
What kept him from remembering what it was
That brought him to that creaking room was age.
He stood with barrels round him—at a loss.
And having scared the cellar under him
In clomping there, he scared it once again
In clomping off;—and scared the outer night,
Which has its sounds, familiar, like the roar
Of trees and crack of branches, common things,
But nothing so like beating on a box.
A light he was to no one but himself
Where now he sat, concerned with he knew what,
A quiet light, and then not even that.
He consigned to the moon, such as she was,
So late-arising, to the broken moon
As better than the sun in any case
For such a charge, his snow upon the roof,
His icicles along the wall to keep;
And slept. The log that shifted with a jolt
Once in the stove, disturbed him and he shifted,
And eased his heavy breathing, but still slept.
One aged man—one man—can’t keep a house,
A farm, a countryside, or if he can,
It’s thus he does it of a winter night.
3.1k
The storm came out of nowhere,
And you were there
With wings ready to fly
And as the clouds broke the sky
You didn't leave
You were my shelter
From the rain and thunder
And when it ceased
And the wind eased
I didn't leave
The rain you stopped
Rained down your core
And every drop
Held like a store
It didn't leave
Until the gust shook it free
And you rained down on me
Cold and sharp but how could I leave
When you held it all of this time for me
I'll stay with you.
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 12:35 PM UTC
The pages dripped,
As so the time of the lover.
What seemed so pure,
Gone the distant time another.
From tears to blood,
Pleased and fitted the seeking lines.
This writing love,
Above all the pure soul he whines.
Somberly eased,
One seeks a fine place to rest on.
Of all chastised,
Left a soul requited and blessed.
Run forgiveness,
Placed heavenly upon his chest.
Jun 10, 2018
Jun 10, 2018 at 6:51 PM UTC