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"effusing" poems
We watched the sun fall down and scrape its knee again, across the horizon. Effusing amaranth, carmine, and cochineal across polluted vista. It felt petty to issue guttural laughs, or engage the myofacial crescents beneath its visual lament as the Earth turned its back again. We watched the sun rise, bruised, tender and shy this morning. Its muddled contusion obviated by the gauze of fog. A mottled neophyte - Luminescent crepuscular rays defied dregs of interstellar debris and cloud. Aching to kiss your skin - In stellar cloud nursery, it eschewed the torque of orbit and gravity - eras before verity of your essence. Humbly settling concentrically about oblate sphere, and gaseous tome. Latterly - It altered the atmospheric pressure on the other side of the planet a week antecedently, as you clung to your dream lattice, and Earth innately turned oblate nucleus. Its intent – A veneration of you. It bade the atmosphere convey a breeze echoing about your dermis, as it gilded your frame laconically, betwixt shaded steps beneath cloud and arbor. The sun yelled at me at its pinnacle today, Pallid bone – molten - miasma of rage Its core missive garnered inertia – coronal plasma warping ellipsoid factions in inflections of elusive filigree Pirouetting spicules spattered smelted torrents in the dismal anchorite Atomic schism – silent but felt It stoked humidity under shadowed niche - casual vaporous smears evinced no clemency. Flesh torqued, and seized beneath itself, briny globules shed from puckered pore. Culminations of sensitive fluid sacs scorched into the shallows of my chassis. Insignia knit in cellular shrapnel The sun ignored me today – or perhaps, it was I it. Enigmatic tenacious resolution – an echo of its gravitational collapse Inverse thermonuclear fusion It is not fear in a relationship that keeps you apart, it is neglect of the infinitesimal.
0
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 9:13 PM UTC
Heliophilia
We watched the sun fall down and scrape its knee again, across the horizon. Effusing amaranth, carmine, and cochineal across polluted vista. It felt petty to issue guttural laughs, or engage the myofacial crescents beneath its visual lament as the Earth turned its back again. We watched the sun rise, bruised, tender and shy this morning. Its muddled contusion obviated by the gauze of fog. A mottled neophyte - Luminescent crepuscular rays defied dregs of interstellar debris and cloud. Aching to kiss your skin - In stellar cloud nursery, it eschewed the torque of orbit and gravity - eras before verity of your essence. Humbly settling concentrically about oblate sphere, and gaseous tome. Latterly - It altered the atmospheric pressure on the other side of the planet a week antecedently, as you clung to your dream lattice, and Earth innately turned oblate nucleus. Its intent – A veneration of you. It bade the atmosphere convey a breeze echoing about your dermis, as it gilded your frame laconically, betwixt shaded steps beneath cloud and arbor. The sun yelled at me at its pinnacle today, Pallid bone – molten - miasma of rage Its core missive garnered inertia – coronal plasma warping ellipsoid factions in inflections of elusive filigree Pirouetting spicules spattered smelted torrents in the dismal anchorite Atomic schism – silent but felt It stoked humidity under shadowed niche - casual vaporous smears evinced no clemency. Flesh torqued, and seized beneath itself, briny globules shed from puckered pore. Culminations of sensitive fluid sacs scorched into the shallows of my chassis. Insignia knit in cellular shrapnel The sun ignored me today – or perhaps, it was I it. Enigmatic tenacious resolution – an echo of its gravitational collapse Inverse thermonuclear fusion It is not fear in a relationship that keeps you apart, it is neglect of the infinitesimal.
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27
A lonesome voice began a mournful air, As bowing low, it moved amongst the trees; Its booming tones exuding sad despair, Disseminating, on a wistful breeze -- A soft sweet voice came drifting down from high, As bowing swift, it moved with fluent grace; Its ringing song effusing endless joy, As two lost voices shared a first embrace -- Their unity, a ringing pack of bells, And canon drawn midst Ursa's watchful gaze; Their song a tune that nothing ever quells, Its tempo strong until their end of days;         Oft’ times, the canon booms, the bells will ring,         As two more lonely voices learn to sing
0
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 5:09 AM UTC
Bells and Canons
In speculating a plumage’s stinging or sorting yesteryear’s chromosomes glint of antiques resplendent as rivulets at The Moonlit Square that shimmered beneath penumbras of fear A stained moon foreshadowing Jahan Ara’s Chowk for Silver Wear The canals blocked, choking with Change Glistering new arrivals, effusing of Change: the tryst carries grave integrity within veins branching across peninsula for pumping reigns Ours is the Strange Acquiesce where a fledgling’s plumage unfurls toward velvety notes of wealth A perennial disruption of equilibrium From Smack to Silk Route till Here Before Iwans, Jhajjharis, or intricate Basti its plumage swayed from Golden Age burdened through pronouncements as Gujarata-Pratihara; Pala; Rashtrakuta: the peninsula that sustains formidable histories shall commemorate edifices lost by centuries Together We Ruminate: What state must it bear this day? traversed across periods sorrowed by time plumage seeks to retire in search of rhyme
0
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 1:58 PM UTC
Plumage
Dear Sir, I wish to lodge a strong protest Against the upkeep of our college grounds; This afternoon, my body was at rest Beneath a shady tree, admiring sounds Of blue birds calling one another.  How They sing their love of England's summer, joy Effusing from their whistled tune; yet now I fancy that their song is but a ploy To captivate a poor soul such as I, Who seeks to find solace from lectured tomes And so reclines to watch the clouds float by. Beneath the trees these blue birds call their homes,         My head was bruised by fruit they dropped on me!         I trust you understand the gravity?
0
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 8:55 AM UTC
What Grows Up
Someday you’ll find me Where the sunlight meets the sea, Waiting patiently for you. My spirit will be scattered across the surface, Riding bobbing, bellicose waves, And gasping for a nostalgic whiff of Honeyed oxygen. Know that my soul will be Immanent in the rising of the tide. While my wide liquidity hands Slither across the sand, Fervently longing To catch a memory, I will reach out to you. Lastly, When you hear the roar of the waves Beleaguering brawny rocks on the shore Know that it is me Crying out for you, Yearning to relive The serene moment when We watched sunlight kiss ripples Effusing through tender waters. For you, I’ll be content to Languor in transit, Bound between Heaven and Earth, Engulfed by sunlight and sea, Until we may ascend together, Limitlessly.
0
May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 10:38 PM UTC
Where The Sunlight Meets The Sea
the birds sing from my backyard and the morning sun hits my window at an angle, effusing its gold-tinted rays into the glowing room i dig deeper for the warmth beneath the bed covers. moments like these, i think of you.
0
Aug 24, 2013
Aug 24, 2013 at 2:36 AM UTC
with your warm hands
This is my home now, God knows for how many years more! The stack of books upright arranged in the shape of my dreams looks disorderly and unorganized, Loneliness in the shape of an injured cat Invades the room, meowing, every night, sniffs scattered objects, And eventually rests in my lap effusing air of some stale memories, As the days move on like a tired traveler, The stains on the wall are clearing to my eyes, Sticky notes like land mafias appropriates space from the wall, Che Guvera with a clenched fist returns a red salute, The 'fist' forwarded memory of past, and one by one Dreadful images reemerged in my mind; Mother in hospital bed, pale and weak, gasping for breath, I sat beside her waiting for magic, Several breakups especially the last one that hurt most where I choose this not  her, And last but not least my COMRADE days participating in protests, bearing batons, and living like revolutionaries fighting the corruption in the system, But now I yearn to be part of the system, As this series of pictures end The motivation I consumed earlier, watching twenty minutes long video subsides, And all of a sudden I rummage the bed sheet to look for a hidden pack of cigarettes which I bought yesterday, Choices change as we proceed on in life, I do regret some of my decisions and regret them badly, I have cried at night, Laughed like a hyena, I'm weak feigning to be strong, I see many reasons to quit this task but one that keeps me going on is the picture of an ailing mother dying in a government hospital.
0
Oct 5, 2021
Oct 5, 2021 at 6:43 PM UTC
Tirade of an UPSC Aspirant
This is my home now, God knows for how many years more! The stack of books upright arranged in the shape of my dreams looks disorderly and unorganized, Loneliness in the shape of an injured cat Invades the room, meowing, every night, sniffs scattered objects, And eventually rests in my lap effusing air of some stale memories, As the days move on like a tired traveler, The stains on the wall are clearing to my eyes, Sticky notes like land mafias appropriates space from the wall, Che Guvera with a clenched fist returns a red salute, The 'fist' forwarded memory of past, and one by one Dreadful images reemerged in my mind; Mother in hospital bed, pale and weak, gasping for breath, I sat beside her waiting for magic, Several breakups especially the last one that hurt most where I choose this not  her, And last but not least my COMRADE days participating in protests, bearing batons, and living like revolutionaries fighting the corruption in the system, But now I yearn to be part of the system, As this series of pictures end The motivation I consumed earlier, watching twenty minutes long video subsides, And all of a sudden I rummage the bed sheet to look for a hidden pack of cigarettes which I bought yesterday, Choices change as we proceed on in life, I do regret some of my decisions and regret them badly, I have cried at night, Laughed like a hyena, I'm weak feigning to be strong, I see many reasons to quit this task but one that keeps me going on is the picture of an ailing mother dying in a government hospital.
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56
we stand in stagnant shades of grey with dark blue, for a change and positioned between us is a series of pregnant pauses giving birth to discomfort more common than our common conversation. i am suspended between the metal spring the dust, the cushion, and the stone fall. i admit to you: in my daydreams, though i bump my head and kick the cat and wake up too late for coffee, have to write on my palms to remember your name in my dreams the writing rubs away off the skin on my hands from holding. and the people smile under their hats at me though it snows so hard it’s swept under the couch and in my daydreams: i can finally hold all the warmth in the world effusing from bodies i cannot feel, will never touch and when the temperature rises, i go outside after the rain again but the rain doesn't culminate on the evergreens; i shook the branches to feel the balm on my shoulders but the dryness overhead displaced me in the absence of water. don’t you stare at me i am not great now; i am lying with the insects to come up with more eyes to see with i, this great essence of grotesque but i must compromise my greatness for ever dancing, eating, loving, finding some reason to pray prey upon the bliss so truant from my mind. i feel i am some monstrous vermin, nameless and defiled, simply tossed among the files, which has absconded, so punished, from the living room floor to under the couch. i admit to you now, though you look at me with vacuous acuity: for all i know, my life was accidentally whispered on a freudian slip of paper from God’s pile of post-it notes and carelessly tossed into the eternal blue flame. but i am no fragment i am no flea nor tick nor scorched typo i am less monstrous than the universes between your eyes which will never shine on me we guess, we categorize, we think, we sweat beads to make a necklace of labor and pass it down the generations as an embellishment of humanity and with hallowed bird’s bones do we rip apart our wishes.
0
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 4:53 PM UTC
Admissions from Under the Couch
we stand in stagnant shades of grey with dark blue, for a change and positioned between us is a series of pregnant pauses giving birth to discomfort more common than our common conversation. i am suspended between the metal spring the dust, the cushion, and the stone fall. i admit to you: in my daydreams, though i bump my head and kick the cat and wake up too late for coffee, have to write on my palms to remember your name in my dreams the writing rubs away off the skin on my hands from holding. and the people smile under their hats at me though it snows so hard it’s swept under the couch and in my daydreams: i can finally hold all the warmth in the world effusing from bodies i cannot feel, will never touch and when the temperature rises, i go outside after the rain again but the rain doesn't culminate on the evergreens; i shook the branches to feel the balm on my shoulders but the dryness overhead displaced me in the absence of water. don’t you stare at me i am not great now; i am lying with the insects to come up with more eyes to see with i, this great essence of grotesque but i must compromise my greatness for ever dancing, eating, loving, finding some reason to pray prey upon the bliss so truant from my mind. i feel i am some monstrous vermin, nameless and defiled, simply tossed among the files, which has absconded, so punished, from the living room floor to under the couch. i admit to you now, though you look at me with vacuous acuity: for all i know, my life was accidentally whispered on a freudian slip of paper from God’s pile of post-it notes and carelessly tossed into the eternal blue flame. but i am no fragment i am no flea nor tick nor scorched typo i am less monstrous than the universes between your eyes which will never shine on me we guess, we categorize, we think, we sweat beads to make a necklace of labor and pass it down the generations as an embellishment of humanity and with hallowed bird’s bones do we rip apart our wishes.
Continue reading...
55
When I let him in my ample ****** heaven we had no beginning and no end. In secret touch bonding our mirror hearts we belonged to timlessness created for us to cover our bodies with tears of eternal longing. All around us were dancing good spirits and angels effusing a taste of roses in our mouths, opening windows of forgotten galaxies. He knew he can travel on moon only testing her sacrosanct body and soul. She felt next to him asabsolute, unlimited perfection.
0
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 7:54 PM UTC
Untitled
I have memorized you,  dear muse, each wavering eyelash that casts shadows over fair cheeks, The rythm of your steps to the algorithym of your life The pace of your breaths, quick  lovely, lively yet you remain lifeless beneath my brush on cloudy days- your voice eludes me, presence evades me, Rain seeps through your hair like cold sunlight dappling forth, thin strokes murky paints and effusing- red flames. I watch how limerence tricks you to take their hand, why. not. mine?. You smile laugh and love leaving me behind. For I will always be the besotted artist, and you, my beloved muse.
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Jul 9, 2025
Jul 9, 2025 at 4:42 PM UTC
Beloved muse
O yield to me o wandering companion, Admit my Heart to Passion's elusive kingdom, Wherein the birds of Paradise take flight, Begetting song of joy and eternal delight. Borne aloft on incandescent, divine zephyr, Effusing from transcendent, otherworldly ether, I am swept up in a hurricane, that rolls and waves, My mesmerized Heart raves, across this reality's enchanted plane. Love, a beau blooming blossom to be in awe of, to devour, Through every wild and carefree hour, So yield to me like water, wine, And fathom Love and soar divine.
0
Apr 23, 2017
Apr 23, 2017 at 6:24 PM UTC
O Yield To Me