"eases" poems
When you are sick
Helpless
Stuck on bed rest
That blue is what keeps you alive
That liquid blue
The blue that eases all the pain
The blue that goes down so soothingly
Liquid blue
Blue like the ocean you'll never swim in
Blue like the sky you'll never touch
Blue like the tears that roll
If you don't have it
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 8:41 PM UTC
.
In a costume of conflicting emotion,
of crossing diamondic colour,
with regal posture in grief,
the Harlequin and the King,
a display of opposites
creating a composite being,
that eases her body
gently into the waiting water,
to float away serene,
on her journey to the nether.
Midnight blue and emerald green,
the regalia of ermine,
both ostentatious and humble,
robeing the aspects,
understated in crowning splendour,
the gentleman King bows,
and the Harlequin laughs,
the bi-polar reaction
to the tragedy of misfortune,
with a sting in the myth-tale.
With the dark hues of mourning,
a legend passes on her way,
across the streams of time,
on a voyage to discover herself,
carrying her Harlequin in a purse,
holding her King to her breast,
owning them both in her heart,
the medicine wheel spins,
knowing the grapes of wrath
yield the wine of spite.
The motley speckles of attire,
a starry parody of night skies,
lighting the decorated funeral barge,
gliding along the rivers of space,
worn with the mantle of sorrow,
and it sails into the sunset,
as the Harlequin and King observe,
the mandala turns,
the bier of the Queen departing,
bears their sadness forth.
The Harlequin laughs and laughs 'til he cries,
his heart grows cold, then withers and dies,
whilst the King, statuesque, memoirs his life,
lamenting the legend of a Queen, his wife.
© Pagan Paul (24/07/18)
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 5:51 AM UTC
Time: 7:30 pm
Temp.: 68F
~~~
overlooking the runways,
festooned by
accidental heavenly whimsy,
or humanistic whimsical inten-sity,
all the the planes and trucks are flashing
electrifying speckles, of eclectically synced
red and green
it is not my holiday,
but no matter,
like every New Yorker this day,
I am happily celebrating its
double U,
unique, unusual
"record breaking warmth"
yes, the Fahrenheit is outtasight, and by the dawn of
early eve~night,
the Centigrade is spiraling in reverse retrograde,
as the temp eases on down, just below seventy degrees,
on this dewinterized twenty fourth day of
December, two nought and fifteen
traffic is light, the terminal, an unbusy, slim shadow of itself,
the maddening crowds gone, now all are among
the dearly departed and either/or, the newly arrived
so composition of the observational, brings cheer and smiles to my faith,
(I mean my face),
the crowning quietude of clear skies, the absence of street smart
city bustle and hustle,
the languid atmosphere at the gates,
(where seldom is heard an encouraging word)#
makes me reconsider the true meaning of
the au courant phraseology of this day
"record breaking warmth"
for there is indeed
a calm invisible warmth suffusing all tonite,
chests glowing from fireplaces within,
contentment chamber containers in both hearth and heart,
and I am thinking
miracle,
about all the human warmth
on this celebrated evening,
holy night
indeed,
it is breaking records of
recorded human fusion,
the united commonality of millions warming
his and her stories world-over,
that your personal poet is
warming to record
Dec 24, 2015
Dec 24, 2015 at 8:21 PM UTC
By
rgpage
The cool evening breeze filled with a scent of approaching rain.
Caught by playful window shears
as it passes through an open pane, to reach their
length and breadth toward the waiting bed.
He was a lover of music and his woman,
a passionate man with a sensitive heart.
She was in love with the melodic way
his gentle fingers moved with sensual touch
over her soft silk like skin of art.
He started gently around her ears softly prying
them open with the quiet richness of her melodies.
Each note of his gentle kisses leading her to a sensual abyss,
easing her down from the edge, controlling her descent, to her goal.
Down the swirling dark and light blends of the music rendered from her soul.
She was his instrument on which he placed
his soft loving fingers, moving them effortlessly,
caressing her most sensual delicate keys…Each body part
smoothly rubbed added richness to her sensual sound driven by lust
and loving trust.
Her ******* he fondled, licking and kissing, squeezing and rubbing.
Silently giving thanks, to her creator for such an amazing instrument.
Both of her hands with long slender fingers tangled in the long dark locks
of his hair as she eases her maestro’s head up tighter against her soft
beautiful mounds.
The loving melody continues with his touch now joined with the sound
of raindrops splashing into uncovered metal buckets and cans. The drops
carried on the breeze through the playful dancing shears came through the other end as nothing more than refreshing cooling mist.
Her body was his loving piano, and as with the 88 keys of his magnificent
Baldwin, the sensual areas of her equally magnificent body, when properly stroked, filled not only the bedroom but the whole house with the most glorious ****** notes known to man.
After a while the symphonic ****** builds as he masterfully impales her with his instrument of love coming into constant contact with the one special key of keys. Its special sound as his strokes came harder and faster brought the whole master piece to a beautiful melodic end as the two lovers bath in the rain’s gentle mist…
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 12:40 PM UTC
One in the know drops a line,
there was no A B C to spell,
yet it keeps spreading.
An animated lingua
wraps round the eyeline.
All those that get wind of it
arise and keep counting.
Without a beginning or an end,
For it has no 1 or 9,
not a mark nor a sign.
Speechless, breathless me,
turn to mine, the one,
superior turned-on mind.
And it appeared true,
true to that credible nature
that identifies indeed
the 'name' of the composer!
Meanwhile, a bird of time.
A giant spell takes no time,
eases off in a blink of eye.
I start to breathe,
begin to revive, again in my
native countryside:
some clay-bumps on the river.
I can cry, smile, now I
can shed tears.
Rhyme on the river.
What's in a river?
'Lores of time immemorial,
an open heart on the move!'
Is there anyone out there
'tapped into the running cycle of water,
following the rhyme on the river'?
One in the know drops a line,
there was no A B C to spell,
yet it keeps spreading.
An animated lingua
wraps round the eyeline.
All those that get wind of it
arise and keep counting.
Without a beginning or an end,
For it has no 1 or 9,
not a mark nor a sign.
Speechless, breathless me,
turn to mine, the one,
superior turned-on mind.
And it appeared true,
true to that credible nature
that identifies indeed
the 'name' of the composer!
Meanwhile, a bird of time.
A giant spell takes no time,
eases off in a blink of eye.
I start to breathe,
begin to revive, again in my
native countryside:
some clay-bumps on the river.
I can cry, smile, now I
can shed tears.
Rhyme on the river.
What's in a river?
'Lores of time immemorial,
an open heart on the move!'
Is there anyone out there
'tapped into the running cycle of water,
following the rhyme on the river'?
One in the know drops a line,
there was no A B C to spell,
yet it keeps spreading.
An animated lingua
wraps round the eyeline.
All those that get wind of it
arise and keep counting.
Without a beginning or an end,
For it has no 1 or 9,
not a mark nor a sign.
Speechless, breathless me,
turn to mine, the one,
superior turned-on mind.
And it appeared true,
true to that credible nature
that identifies indeed
the 'name' of the composer!
Meanwhile, a bird of time.
A giant spell takes no time,
eases off in a blink of eye.
I start to breathe,
begin to revive, again in my
native countryside:
some clay-bumps on the river.
I can cry, smile, now I
can shed tears.
Rhyme on the river.
What's in a river?
'Lores of time immemorial,
an open heart on the move!'
Is there anyone out there
'tapped into the running cycle of water,
following the rhyme on the river'?
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 9:40 PM UTC
_A delicate sound trickles into my ear
A tantalizing voice from a mouth so fair
Her lips move as she brushes back her hair
And moonlight beams into my dreams
She eases me with her soothing scent
With little laughs between words,
Whispering softly in unison with birds
That sing and cheer as dawn draws near
The graceful woman I am bound to
Greets me with a smile while I sleep
And tells me that she is mine to keep
After the sun has set and twilight beget
Her tender touch is all I need
As I hopelessly cling to my fantasy
And indulge an invisible ecstasy
Until I awaken and my love is taken_
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 9:14 PM UTC
I rush for love against time
And bleed blood by design
My heart floods for my crimes
When my mud attracts flies
I felt a rush
Through the brush
Of your skin so lush
I turned to mush
My heart began to gush
When I felt your rush
It became too much
And I exploded prematurely
Though it's normal you assured me
Could it be that you had cured me?
We rushed through our adrenaline courtship
While I rushed through your adorable hips
I was ****** in by your surge
Until your love was purged
You grew bored of my rush hour
So you exerted your push power
And I became a fastidious learner
That you were an insidious burner
After I became the sole recipient
Of your attitude that's flippant
The pain is a rush
This pain when you flush
Disdain when you crush
Me to pieces
Between your creases
When you keep talking feces
It's something that never eases
When your rush turns to breezes
You're a rush in my heart
Like the rush when I ****
It's a relief that you're gone
But something seriously stinks
It's a relief you were wrong
Yet I continue to sink
Nov 1, 2017
Nov 1, 2017 at 4:36 PM UTC
POETRY PSYCHOLOGY
Delves into the deepest realms
inside of me
It opens my mind
Makes me see
Life, good and bad
All meant to be
Write those poems
If it eases the pains
It will lead onto the next terrain
Give Peace to sustain
POETRY PSYCHOLOGY
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 8:31 AM UTC
I’ve O’D’d on Glucosamine Sulphate, so much I’m mentally scarred.
It’s escalated now I’m 70… I’ve mainlined on my Senior Railcard…
I bow down to the Norse God Voltarol… He eases all my pains…
and there’s Deep Heat, Germaloids, even Anusol for the other stresses and strains.
The wondrous Winter Fuel Allowance! That’s what lights our lamp these dark days - ahh, those twilight hours!
But after the logs, it’s not Leccy or Gas we crave? No! We buy ***** with ours…
the Whisky, Gin, ***** Wine, a drop of Brandy too. It all helps us numb the cold
whilst memories of happier times gone by - brighten up this ****** growing old.
Supplements, sterols, statins, aspirin, beta blockers… All the heart meds - life’s a battle.
In the 60s it was *** and Drugs and Rock ’n’ Roll… Now there’s less *** and a lot more rattle!
****** fails to make it now - “no more”, after the last time - she said!
These days the only thing it does is stop me rolling out of bed!
The bus pass lets me roam the world… from John O’Groats to Land’s End.
But these days I travel locally Southwick, Lancing, Steyning; oh yeh and a cousin in far Gravesend.
Further afield; abroad perhaps? Well no…Back then it was Newhaven for the Continent.
But now I’m over 70, well, it’ll just be Worthing for the INCONTINENT!
And… did I say? Not that I was ever in the habit of measuring it you understand - or straightening out the kinks
I’m pretty sure that these days - and ’no’ it’s NOT just the cold… but, your once adequate **** - it shrinks!
I'm sorry...Your ******* It ain't so long!
Dec 28, 2018
Dec 28, 2018 at 4:15 PM UTC
I lay in the church pew
Stare at the dimly lit chandeliers
Underneath that tree
And feel a quiet calm
I am not overwhelmed
Nor am I bored
Church choir screams "Alleluia"
While babes cry for the death of our Lord
The Lord they don't know
The Lord we don't know
A wooden stick new, takes time to burn
May I be worn and used so the flame ignites quick
And burns me into ashes
For the flame does not hurt
But eases all pain
Into this quiet peace
Of this un-ending pew
And we all sing
Amen
Apr 18, 2012
Apr 18, 2012 at 10:36 PM UTC
Spring came full of rejuvenating hope to ward off the chilly winters,
It came replete with dreams of days much brighter,
It came to exfoliate & gently scrub away the old ones,
Yes it came to make way for the new flowers.
It stayed till the sun was high up there in the shy sky,
It stayed till the sun burnt holes in human pockets with bills of electricity,
It stayed till the sun was cursed for being out there with AC's to help the well to do,
Yes it stayed there till it was the merciless month of June.
Summer then took over in July by burning animal & human skins alike,
It even did not spare a patch of cool water in the naked-barren lands,
It made animals cry & people kneel down and call for help,
Yes their calls weren't left unanswered and soon it was the rainy monsoon.
Monsoon - the rainy season lashes upon the oven hot land in August's end,
It eases the hot temperatures and releases peafowls in mating,
It even threatens to drown the ill-prepared cities of India by flood-waters,
Yes Mumbai is just one example of how Indian people want the autumn to come.
Autumn - the reliever from torrid showers,
It is an exception in the Indian season cycle,
It is neither that torrid monsoon before it nor is it the hostile winters succeeding it,
Yes it is a short calm time just before the winter season extreme in the north.
Winter season as we've learnt to call it in schools,
It sends chills down the spines of Indian people all over,
It is harsh only in the north but the other people simply don't have tolerance or genes,
Yes I love the beautiful winter season so what if once it nearly took my life while on trekking.
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 9:37 AM UTC
by
rgpage
in this late hour on a mid-august night
the day's torturous heat now just a trace.
with heaven's dark sky splattered star light bright
and with the moon's help, how they now illuminate.
naked to the night on a blanket she waits
from a crystal flute she sips her wine.
its acrid taste makes her body brace,
and her silky skin to shine.
our lady awaits anticipates the night of love to be,
she's made her nest in secluded style
away from prying eyes, alone in the night
she patiently waits for her lover to arrive.
her warm body bathes in the evening breeze
eyes closed she lets her fingers roam,
her half-erect ******* she'll gently squeeze
'til engorged with blood they flush fully grown.
laying a hand to her most sensitive spot
the cradle of life's onset if you will,
her first finger eases itself into place,
and deftly a second does follow.
slowly and softly in clockwise rotation
wishing it were her lover's trace;
the effect was good with her hip's gentle motion
her soul now wrapped in silk and lace.
with quiet stealth on an old forest path
her mate breaks out of the tall trees cover,
spotting his sensual prey's silhouette
naked and silent he slips toward his lover.
feeling his presents her eyes slightly open
towering above her as tall as the trees,
she sees her muscular handsome young swain
in time to see him drop to his knees.
leaning in he gives her soft kiss'
his hand tracks her ******* with a gentle lover's mirth,
slowly and gently he brings her along, with a
touch as soft as a feather's fall to earth.
reaching forth and touching his face
and gently pulling him down to her lips,
they lightly touch then drift apart
as he makes his way to her ******* and hips.
the time is not urgent there's no wasted efforts,
every inch of her skin he greets with a kiss,
as a hungry lion studies his prey
not a single sound made, nor morsel missed.
seductively firm he leads her to ******
she honors his every wish and whim.
knowing his every move leads to pleasure
from pleasure to rapture time and again.
as the moon crosses over making way for the day,
and the star's disappear in the sun's early light.
our lady awakens alone where she lay
her mysterious lover is gone with the night…
Dec 2, 2011
Dec 2, 2011 at 12:00 PM UTC
Dull and lacking in importance
All roads lead to Rome, but where is this taking me?
Options everywhere, but no choices
No answer to solve problems that don’t have solutions
Every answer is right, except a few
Free to do as you please but bound by what you say
It weighs on me, as heavy on my body as it is on my mind
My heart and my soul
Truth cannot be known though we write books
And sing songs of what we know it is
It soothes the pain and eases the fear
That lurks in the depths of the mind
It is there and cannot be hidden
The secret of which no one speaks
We do not know.
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 10:58 PM UTC
.
*Tumbling stones rumble unheard,
a slide that sends gravity shifting,
starting a new path through time,
the butterfly effect begins shifting.*
i.
The ancient track
is solid beneath her feet,
though she has walked
between the stars.
She knows not the place
but has been there before,
And the trail wends its way
through forest dense and dark
to a hags tooth mound
and the Tomb of Travellers,
upon the stone door
an inscription, a warning.
'Prepare to go everywhere.
Prepare to go nowhere'
ii.
*“Let time take me wither it will,
be it fluid or be it still”.*
iii.
The slow grating of stone on stone
as the door swings open,
light penetrating the gloom,
and the Tomb reveals its treasures.
She enters with reverence
and moves to a vacant plinth,
a marbled seat warm and empty,
her place for the connection ritual.
iv.
A mix of herbs into a secret potion,
preparing herself to swim Time's ocean,
clear cool water to bathe her skin,
awaiting the pendulum of life to swing.
The symbols in her third eye complete,
she eases so gently into her travel seat,
bringing the brew to her expectant lips,
a bitter taste as over her tongue it slips.
v.
Oh gently rock her mind to sleep,
just one last barrier for her to leap,
through Times gate to other places,
as the drug through her mind races.
vi.
A small squat figure emerges
in a midnight blue hooded robe,
Grimly the Guardian of the Gate,
carrying careful an ancient globe.
And her eyes glow with wonder
as she receives the Seers Sphere,
cloudy with the hue of pearl,
its significance is so crystal clear.
vii.
She places it in a depression
in the arm of the marbled chair,
settles herself and closes her eyes,
letting her mind drift on the air.
The connection ritual reaching ******
acceptance or rejection time is near.
Will the bond form betwixt them?
She places her hand on the Seers Sphere …
© Pagan Paul (30/09/18)
Oct 3, 2018
Oct 3, 2018 at 6:04 AM UTC
This is a lot more formal than writing it out for you, besides you usually can’t read my handwriting anyways. I’m sure you’re sick of my notes by now, but later in life they might matter, or we might break up and burning them might be part of your healing process. Being with you has changed my life drastically, in the best way possible, I didn’t want to live. I had no hope for my future, I felt as if I was standing three feet in cement and I was sinking fast. And then a man with ******** comments came into my life for whatever reason, and changed me for the better. I want to succeed, be the best woman possible for you, though I make you mad at times because of my quick temper and tendency to befriend a bit too many guys, I appreciate you in more ways than you can ever imagine.
I have never met a man as kind as you, or a man who cares so much about the people he loves. Loyalty has always meant something to me because I never had it; the amount of people that have been disloyal sickens me at times, for I was the one to believe they were something different. Yet, I found you; you are the most loyal man I have ever had the pleasure to meet. Being with you feels different, I have never craved the attention of anyone before, but having you with me eases whatever pain I’ve felt in the last couple of days. Our relationship has been something I wouldn’t trade for anything in the world; you’ve accepted me as myself and loved me for my flaws. I am but a plain girl to be frank, I am not extraordinary or exceptional, but holding your hand, or lying next to you, makes me feel beautiful for whatever reason.
I haven’t had the courage to tell you ever story in my head, or blurt out every thought in my head for I fear I am partially insane. You put up with me wishing I was a leaf, theories on dead birds, and the habit of my resting in too many trees. Just the fact that you’re willing to climb trees with me, or explain how beautiful crows are, makes me fall so deeply in love with the person you are. I understand at times why so many people adore you, as beautiful as a person you are. Being without you feels like two thirds of me are missing, as if I have ghost limbs and I keep reaching out to see if you’re there when you’re not. I love you immensely, though I love you doesn’t compare to the way I feel, words or actions can’t describe who you are to me.
You treat me as if letting me go would be the end of the world and I thought I didn’t understand that until I think of the thought of you leaving. Thoughts like these steal my breath away, and the ground beneath me, because losing you means losing a part of whom I am, and that is terrifying.
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 12:22 PM UTC
The lone wolf sits under the full moon of a winter's night.
His eyes focused forward, the grit of the desert whips him.
Slowly he lifts his head and emits his solitary howl.
The night echoes a response back on its icy breeze.
Roaming packs move close as they corner a helpless prey.
Their presence doesn't pull him away from his true love.
The isolated night envelopes his mind and eases his soul.
Alone but connected as the star dust flows through his veins.
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 1:25 PM UTC
Forgiveness eases the soul,
Overwhelms each one and all.
Unity is what we need.
Nevertheless, we have it now,
right now, indeed.
Differences among us should not break
us apart.
After all, it's our institution that would
take the hurt.
Trust and trust you shall reap
In times of doubts and during mischief.
Openness sets your spirit free,
Nothing more, nothing less if you keep it
everyday.
Done is the past,
And time to move on at last.
You and me, each one and all, this message
is for meant to be.
Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 5:13 PM UTC
That smile.
That smile that makes me forget an argument.
That laugh.
That sweet laughter.
That eases the moods we both gets in.
Is it any wonder?
That we so compatible.
You fit me.
I fit you.
Two lovers responsible for one another's happiness.
Those eyes.
Those eyes that brings a smile unto my face.
Loving you is a pleasure.
And a moment with you is never a waste.
Yes, that smile.
Plus those eyes has me hooked.
And I never even mention those lips.
Which are so kissable.
Aug 2, 2012
Aug 2, 2012 at 11:32 PM UTC
all our little itches come out to play
I eat them aflame as if I were next
I know I am to be
next comestible girl thing
something, irritant beneath your back teeth
and you sit on your sofa and wonder
you fall down my stairs and look up
we sleep by the river and listen
to the frogs and the praying mantis
as they glisten
all that matters
as they walk a certain way
all that wonders
why you and I just
seemed to fade a——way
as I couldn't chew weeds
like the rest of them
as if a dog choke chain we rot
circus familiar to me,
smile like you feel it, baby,
grin as if you are inside those
photo graphs
see clouds of pink paint
descended of you
clouds love me so
love me more than you
I am what I am
a fog of knowing
knowing how you will love me
in your very veins is restful
eases me to sleep a rolling
train way dream each night
midnight wakes me
your name on my lips
I am a dark slick highway woman
moaning like a new birthed bird
I am never going to be yours
but you could borrow me
take all that I am
I will be here sighing,
waiting for the true blue
****** of you
everything we could have been
never leaves us, that’s a myth
we see now, and it has no service
I choose for us a perfect ending
this is my living song
I just forgot
how to sing
really, I thought for once
we nestled in your
head
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 7:20 PM UTC
the thoughts never go
i realize you are unavailable,
not because you are with someone
your lack of remorse hurts.
i don't desire to stroke your ego
so i merely keep it concealed;
although every time i visit you,
the caterpillars in my stomach develop wings.
your intoxicating chorus
eases my anxious mind;
your tender kiss
absorbed directly into my veins…
but i know i am not the
one who helps you fall asleep,
for i am a man who writes
about heartbroken cries
we as men don't want to hear that ****
for intimacy and emotional exposure is dangerous
and with so much at stake
why would you make your emotional sentiments so public
because of you
you, you, you, you, you
i obviously cannot tell you
so if someone resonates with me
i can feel love from someone, somewhere.
Sep 19, 2016
Sep 19, 2016 at 7:25 AM UTC
Where is that hand,
That motherly embrace,
Which comforts in its ****** -
That motherly hand I can trust?
Where is that hand,
That warming caress,
Which eases the nerves -
That cocoon of soft curves?
There is no rest anymore
In thoughts of exile and escape;
My being is shaken to the core,
My soul bent under the stress.
Where is that hand,
That soothing absence,
Which cradles you gently -
That silence of calm and mercy?
Where is the hand,
That promise of better days,
Which relieves innocently -
That convincing “don’t worry”?
There is no rest anymore
In thoughts of exile and escape;
My being is shaken to the core,
My soul bent under the stress.
Apr 5, 2022
Apr 5, 2022 at 2:25 PM UTC
You really don't know do you?
You do not know...
*How your smiles lights up the dark,
How your laugh eases all my nerves and anxiety,
How your eyes see into the deepest parts of my heart,
How your ears listen to me without falter.*
You don't know...
*How you brighten up each day,
How you make getting out of bed worth it,
How you inspire me to be a better person,
How you have changed my life for the better.*
You don't know...
*How much you mean to me,
How much I appreciate all you do,
How much desire I have for you,
How much I love you.*
You don't know...
How special you are to me
You really don't know*
May 3, 2017
May 3, 2017 at 5:40 AM UTC
Push off of the cool cement.
Gravity eases his grip on me.
Suspended in air,
I swallow mouthfuls of the night sky.
With stars in my lungs,
I course their light through my veins.
Between me and the moon,
my small world is drenched
in a hushed, wavering silvery glow.
The still, black surface
breaks into a thousand glittering pieces.
I’m told those little diamonds make
the most melodic tinks and pings,
but I don’t ever hear them.
By then, I’m fathoms below—
where I’m enveloped in quietude,
where time is an extinct notion,
where even the heaviest heart
can beat
for whatever she chooses
without
burden.
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 2:09 PM UTC