"effable" poems
The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,
It isn’t just one of your holiday games;
You may think at first I’m as mad as a hatter
When I tell you, a cat must have THREE DIFFERENT NAMES.
First of all, there’s the name that the family use daily,
Such as Peter, Augustus, Alonzo or James,
Such as Victor or Jonathan, George or Bill Bailey—
All of them sensible everyday names.
There are fancier names if you think they sound sweeter,
Some for the gentlemen, some for the dames:
Such as Plato, Admetus, Electra, Demeter—
But all of them sensible everyday names.
But I tell you, a cat needs a name that’s particular,
A name that’s peculiar, and more dignified,
Else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular,
Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?
Of names of this kind, I can give you a quorum,
Such as Munkustrap, Quaxo, or Coricopat,
Such as Bombalurina, or else Jellylorum-
Names that never belong to more than one cat.
But above and beyond there’s still one name left over,
And that is the name that you never will guess;
The name that no human research can discover—
But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess.
When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation
Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name:
His ineffable effable
Effanineffable
Deep and inscrutable singular Name.
6.9k
Absquatulate,
flee to the unknown,
where I can be an organism
of concinnity,
deipnosophist I will,
dine with Plato on an herb
deracinate me,
become a dance or song
with effable eternity
flatline...
to infinity,
or possibly....
continue to hunt and peck.
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 7:51 PM UTC
Breathe me,
So I may be the air,
To sustain you,
With a new exhilarating sensation,
For you have never met,
A beauty quite as fair.
May the inhales of breath,
Give you my tantalizing aroma,
To waft through your mind,
For all eternity as each exhale,
Entwines your spirit with mine,
Reaching a point of immense depth,
So pure and divine.
Time seems to freeze,
As Hazel eyes mirror my own,
Glancing up my form,
As you witness a treasure,
So grand and rare,
Engendering you to be bereft.
Of all senses,
Except for the feeling to stop and stare.
You speak the words,
Of an effable language,
In such a distinct dialect,
Only the key of your heart,
Opens the lock of my own,
Through those amorous words,
Only the beating of our hearts may decipher,
Even if fate leaves us worlds apart.
Fingers interlacing in an affectionate embrace,
As our hearts waltz in the stillness,
Of the night,
As I notice the sway of your hip,
Full of masculine grace,
Pressing your body against mine,
As you me so deliciously tight.
The moment I encountered you,
I reach the peak of the highest mountain,
Falling as I may,
You bestow me with the gift of insight,
Wrapped in a ribbon of trust,
Ever so bright;
A chance I have never been granted before,
So even if I slip,
Your love always keeps me,
From shattering upon the Valley floor.
Loving you is all you ask of me,
So forever I shall,
Until I no longer breathe,
Our cold bodies soon to be side by side,
Under an old willow tree.
Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 4:11 PM UTC
why do i feel like every time we share pieces of ourselves to each other; i lose a little bit of myself, knowing that i will never get the whole of you because part of you is with her and i can never accept the fact that while she's more, i am less; she's effable, i'm ineffable; she's deserving, and i'm hurting. but honey, we wouldn't be here if she deserves you. she wouldn't hurt you if she deserves you. i am trying though. so i can finally say that i'm the one who deserves you now. i deserve the whole of your existence because in my hands, you will never get hurt, love.
so give me all of you and i'd give you all of me. maybe that's enough to get me by everyday that i am with y o u.
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 10:21 AM UTC
Is it possible to die from missing someone?
What could you pronounce the cause of death?
Consider it top 5 ways to die,
Up against being loved to death (figuratively),
You would have a clear picture in your head for eternity,
Thoughts are sometimes ephemeral; but not there.
Maybe our thoughts aren’t dreams at all,
For the summation of all life [on Earth] is but the length of a fleeting thought,
When put into perspective with all the galaxies,
So entire lives are near less than existent,
Then our dreams are equal to that,
Both of effable insignificance,
Hence equally important.
In fact, dreams are the essence of reality.
So long as we can invent dreams,
We can create reality.
Proof of this can be found above the surface of pondering.
As my dreams of him become more vivid,
The reality he creates on my behalf becomes all the better.
The more I practice dreaming of him while he is gone,
The greater they become,
And so he becomes greater than great.
Pathetically explained,
And foolish it seems.
He is better than all my dreams.
If not logical,
Maybe,
Just maybe;
That is what I convince upon myself,
In order to believe that my reality from my dreams,
While missing him,
Making my dreams unbelievably productive.
You can continue to believe that life is longer than any dream,
But if you make take the reciprocal of that,
[and make your dreams longer than life]
Perhaps you will realize it is dreams that are reality.
Dying of missing him,
In turn,
Would be no different from an eternal dream,
Which in reality is death.
But if you are still perpetually dreaming, then you are always alive.
That’s the beauty of a dream; it never dies.
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 11:44 PM UTC
these ramifications
are farcical
I abjure effable
subterfuge
when that kiss
the one you
live on
pulls on
its gloves
and glares
Jan 28, 2022
Jan 28, 2022 at 11:41 PM UTC
Chiliad years Logaphiles were written for us in many Eurythmic Forms to help comprehend ones Alexithymic;
The Orphic Lyrics of
Luftmensh Scops,
The Evanescence of Classical
Pieces of Merak Musicians,
The Timeless Dotish
Word in an Aubade,
The Aeipathy behind a
Bindlestill Writing Effable
Lines to an Auralize
Of an Epoch Poem,
The Sillage of
Camhanich in the
Lyrics of a Trouvaille Song,
Many Vagary were
written under the
Angelic Moon Phase
with Mid-Summer
Nites Dwaat Melliflous
of the Lite Breeze
through the Trees
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 11:48 AM UTC
I love the word effable
So effable my feelings for you
But ineffable to describe just
How effed I am for falling for you
Aug 22, 2019
Aug 22, 2019 at 5:44 AM UTC
Boo,
I don't write love letters
like you do
My words get blacklisted
'cause with love,
things can get twisted, quickly
You see:
the sweet hips
drips
with kisses ... can easily be
the creep's lips
trips
with hisses
Don't misconstrue, Boo
I see you
like you see me
and, I agree
our minds are connected
But
our
telepathy
can certainly be
the lepathy
to confuse you
and
contuse you too
You don't see the pain I see
I see the pane you don't see
It obscures my view
I'm one of the pragmatic few
I'm being true to you, Boo
These love letters must end
In its place I'll just send
"Deeds" things we can both do
and claim ownership to
They can't be misunderstood at all
The same ones used at a concert hall
If it's great ... then I'll just applaud
If it's bad ... then I'll just ...
Boo, I'm through
Sep 19, 2020
Sep 19, 2020 at 1:43 AM UTC