"eddied" poems
You told me you dreamt of stars
From before cave painters
And ice ages
Celestial
You said you came from the time
Before “Let there be light”
When light and dark pooled
And eddied together
You said we could exist
In an isolated state
When even oil and water were in love
And we are but atoms
And you said
We could run away from
The ills and the joys and
The businessmen clocking in on time
But I am a cynic
And a threw down your sonnets
And your romance
Because I’m not a dreamer
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 8:31 PM UTC
881
I’ve none to tell me to but Thee
So when Thou failest, nobody.
It was a little tie—
It just held Two, nor those it held
Since Somewhere thy sweet Face has spilled
Beyond my Boundary—
If things were opposite—and Me
And Me it were—that ebbed from Thee
On some unanswering Shore—
Would’st Thou seek so—just say
That I the Answer may pursue
Unto the lips it eddied through—
So—overtaking Thee—
966
Alien and unwanted, my smile
always singed my lips. Platitudes
polite and civilization vile…
Many times, I longed to prelude
my burdens to him, my husband.
But, love is no longer the case…
What a woman gives up for an end
to live happily ever after…
An access
to be one with another’s world…
I felt a freedom
in slitting my brother’s throat
as seasons ebbed
and eddied with each part of him
was discarded for my love’s
need for an empire.
I felt the moment, the freedom
of Fatherland.
Lived within this foreign land
of endless lies, Amen.
A wife-time of anguish for a man… I’m resplendent
Eve: noting wishes beyond Adam’s and God’s assignments.
Jason: husband, an end, has been…
I’m slitting our children’s throats
on this dark continent as me, an alien
for one thing you to see: making my own exile’s scene…
Jun 3, 2016
Jun 3, 2016 at 4:40 AM UTC
Before you collapsed
back to the blank face of Ys,
back onto damp sands,
just for an instant,
I stopped. (in my desk chair)
and saw
your spires, heard your swollen bells
and smiled in the sun.
You rose in earnest,
sang to the horizon(!)
the casual and the causal.
the waves eddied around
you and suddenly,
as easily as you drew
from the seabed,
you let me know,
everything that matters
(one day)
collapses.
Feb 5, 2018
Feb 5, 2018 at 2:25 AM UTC
I was fire set upon
A bed of wood to flicker on.
The steady feed of brush and bark
Kept me ablaze to stay the dark
And yet at once, a time before
An oil fueled my cobalt core.
So mindlessly, I did consume
All things before their buds could bloom.
Further back, beyond that burn
I reveled in to quell the yearn-
There was chill that eddied forth
That ushered in the wind from North.
My fires faltered needfully
And lapsed into a harmony,
That warmed us both without the threat
Of razing us with hot regret.
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 8:46 AM UTC
Remember June’s long days,
and wild strawberries, drops of wine, the dew.
The nettles that methodically overgrow
the abandoned homesteads of exiles.
You must praise the mutilated world.
You watched the stylish yachts and ships;
one of them had a long trip ahead of it,
while salty oblivion awaited others.
You’ve seen the refugees heading nowhere,
you’ve heard the executioners sing joyfully.
You should praise the mutilated world.
Remember the moments when we were together
in a white room and the curtain fluttered.
Return in thought to the concert where music flared.
You gathered acorns in the park in autumn
and leaves eddied over the earth’s scars.
Praise the mutilated world
and the gray feather a thrush lost,
and the gentle light that strays and vanishes
and returns.
—Adam Zagajewski.
9/11/2016.
Sep 11, 2016
Sep 11, 2016 at 1:23 PM UTC
In the passing of the night
With only friendship left to lose
Encouraged by some drunken friends
And eddied by the *****
We talked a while, just you and me
In fading smokey light
Until I could convince myself
The timing had come right
I though that you had shown a sign
The words you said were true
But what I thought the words did mean
Was not what they were to you
The laughter I thought was nervous hope
Was plainly misconcieved
And looking back I see I saw
What I wanted to believe
I took a step and passed all points
That had been passed before
A calamity of awkward words
Shared by the front door
You look surprised and not quite sure
Of what you're supposed to say
But all I wanted was the truth
Not just a part to play
It wasn't the answer I wanted to hear
But I know you're not to blame
I'm only happy I know where we stand
Alhough we don't feel the same
And though I don't regret the action
The method wasn't right
So I hope you don't hold against me
What passed the other night
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 9:34 AM UTC
The colours swirled and eddied
From the back of my gown
As here I patiently wait
For my silver crown
My feet are gently placed
In heeled slippers of red
but unlike Dorothy
these will not take me to my bed
I stand tall and proud
All strapped up with lace
To get home from the ball
There will be no race
There will be no party,
Biscuits, tea or cake
No Bandersnatch or Jabberwark
Are lying in my wake
No one will resque me
No armoured knight
To follow my chosen path
There will be no dragons to fight
I am not even a witch
locked up in a tower
Just a young lady
growing older every hour
No longer a little child
Chasing a fairy tale
Just a normal teenager
Trying to follow her dreams without fail
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 1:41 PM UTC
8/13/2014
*"The cicada's dry monotony breaks over me.
The days are bright and free.
Then why did I cry today for an hour?
I stood under oak, while autumnal fog
eddied around my feet, waiting for the bus
with a dread that took my breath away.
I stood at the side of the road.
This summer- it was the only life I had."*
Jane Kenyon
A Sourland night with some tylenol at my
side and a black shirt that smells like Pierre Cardin
doesn't sound half bad,
and if it does, let me know. Do you remember telling birds at 5 in the morning to shut the hell up?
That was june and time goes on. And now you flinch as if hit when you see the first gold leaf, huh?
The end of an era we could not say goodbye to came and it went. We sat sullied in our sunken brows like children who'd misbehaved and silently regretted. Our mouths
tasted of sunflower fields and henna birchs. You realize summer is over when you feel it was minutes, not hours that you killed off slowly.
Don't worry. Nothing Gold Can Stay, this time you can't stop the gold from staying, but the feeling of a hell hot afternoon layed out overwhelming like a blanket is gone.
Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 5:33 PM UTC
And I'll be there when they lay you in the ground
Six feet under - arms crossed - legs closed
Finally laying your back
In that straight position
That I always expected of you
Those tickles and chuckles the soundtrack of the cemetery
When the stars sang on your fetal-curled nights
When your lashes ran away like pollen on a breeze
When the life and the breath of a lover eddied around you
When time stopped
And our freckles and mind and lips all met
In a soul touching kiss
I transcended my flesh
And so did you
But you're in an ivory white bed
You're six feet under
You stopped breathing one day
You just stopped
And I hope your face is marred with wrinkles
And I hope your body is caressed with scars
And I hope your bad days really left a hickey,
a punch, a bruise
Because although I won't be there for it all
Please embark on a beautiful life when you open the door
I'll face the landslide
And I'll face it alone
And so will you
But just try and live a beautiful life
Okay?
Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 10:36 PM UTC
concrete burns
on sundry days
twisting and turns
in fixated ways
hard rock rivers
etch the landscape
in human endeavors
and tenuous escape
from eddied towns
along lorn asphalt flows
dreams born to drown
in hope too shallow
for front porch desires
while mothers speak of yearning
and fathers of youthful fires
life is of concrete burning
dreams and desires
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 9:51 AM UTC
When the river was young,
he'd often sit on its banks of sugar sand
smoking a cigarette
lazily watching
the slow, languid, eddied
swirls that Time made
as it made its way,
rather clumsily.
Sometimes from the far bend
a tree branch would come afloating
like a bad memory,
twisting and turning in the current
with some silly bird trying to balance
and figure it out from all angles
Random voices from the far shore
cicadas chirping in the lazy afternoon
from the thick undergrowths
overhanging the flowing waters
an occasional splash by some bored fish
a silent bubble bursting
cackling waterfowls
And yet he would hear his own breath,
joining in...
The waters were slightly warm then
and gentle
and caressing
when he went for a dip
and a few strokes took him
to the little islet in the middle
and aimlessly back again
to break out in little goosebumps
from the cool breeze on his wet skin.
The river's old now
muddied, wrinkled and scarred
no more voices from the far banks
no waterfowls cackling
not even lazy cicadas
only his own breathing
heavy with the sighs
of longing.
of loss.
Jan 30, 2021
Jan 30, 2021 at 6:26 PM UTC
coasting at the coast
cape runaway
beckons
just past the breaks
summer morning vista
seen from our bed
through sleepy
summer holiday eyes
still
I can see the foam
crashing on the rocks
that feed the churn
between the capes landfall
and rocky outcrop
I remember the thrill
first time I steered us
around those rocks
the strong current pulling
and rocking the boat
you too ******
to navigate us safely
first time I'd driven the boat
I remember
the powerful engines(2 twins)
straining against
the undertow
trying to pull us into
a rocky jagged death
you were oblivious
kept sliding your hand up my thigh
I could feel the bow
dipping toward the crag
then the boat being tossed
toward equally rocky foreshore
it was a push me pull you dance
you blissfully ignorant
hammered
reaching for another cold one
one hand trying to find a way
inside my shorts
I remember
having to put it in reverse
full throttle
then cut it quick
to roll out of the pit
with the flow of the undertow
then gun it to clear water
I remember
being mesmerised
enticed
by the eddied
turbulent water
I remember
thinking
I could just let it go
and dive overboard
alone
a strong sea swimmer
trained surf life saver
I remember
looking
seeing
the path through the rips
counting the beats
between the crashing waves
knowing
I could easily make it
alone
I'd swum through pain before
my shoulder still burned
you almost ripped it
out of the socket
my fingers traced the lump
and fissure
under my hair line
where you'd smashed my head
into the wooden door frame
over
and
over
your fist a handful
of my hair
seeing stars and tweety birds
tasting blood
from biting my lip
and my tongue
staying on my feet
refusing to crumple
before you
Christmas night
before we left for the coast
boxing day morning
at 6am
I remember
thinking
I don't love you anymore
I remember
thinking
youve made
a slaughterhouse
of our love
I remember
thinking
I'm better than you
than this urge
to hurt you back
so you'd understand
how deep you hurt me
I remember
thinking
I don't want to be like you
and steering us
both
safely home.
J.C. 13/09/2019. 12.22 am (Friday 13th)
Sep 12, 2019
Sep 12, 2019 at 8:33 AM UTC
my heart a wallet bursting at the seams with all these
worn, illegible receipts of simple but forgotten dreams.
an IOU to me flits free and drifts away in blood like
leaves upon the eddied surface of a stream.
Apr 25, 2017
Apr 25, 2017 at 6:06 PM UTC
floating on a sea of blood
born of our heart's sins
drifting slowly while faced apart
in boats of our own skins
like memories dropped on still waters,
we become cognizant of each other
by the echos of our waves
filled with but an anamnesis of us
this liquid plane;
landless space between,
our forms become intoxicated
as if they were soaked in gin
the taste transmuting
from pungency to bliss
churning tides of rumination,
hurricanes of emotional rot
eddied at our shores
from hair's end to finger's tip
soaked, we are
in the torrents of our yearning
waiting for the maelstrom of appetency
to catch us in remission
Nov 30, 2019
Nov 30, 2019 at 8:14 PM UTC
“This world was once a fluid haze of light,
Till toward the centre set the starry tides,
And eddied into suns, that wheeling cast
The planets:
”then the monster, then the man”
—Alfred, Lord Tennyson, “The Princess”
Sep 20, 2024
Sep 20, 2024 at 2:52 PM UTC