"elopement" poems
Can you feel it
Shh, allow the galaxy to pamper your body, blanket the essence of your mind, bit-by-bit
Travel on a higher awareness to understand the galaxy’s gentle gift
Close your eyes and allow your mind to softly drift
Soft Moonlight Dust
Illuminating the night skies, given warmth of its inner trust
Centered in the sky, a star abates for its enlighten ******
Kindred minds to enrapture, as souls physically adjust
So gentle, as a touch to the skin
An inner space to conquer, there an exploring craving begins
Awareness of self stirring into the constellation
Bodies attuned beyond the stretch of imagination
Savoring on the flavor of the alignment sweeten taste
Desires igniting an inferno, the heat of its flames refusing to wait
Overheated friction surrendering without debates
Runaway yearning weakening in the presence of fate
The ecstasy of the moonlight’s dust felt, abiding to the crack of dawn
Emotions of the elixir slowly withdrawn
A Cheshire moonrise
Always a sacred communion given in surprise
Masked feelings hidden behind the stars in our eyes
Sprinkles of pixie dust as the moon becomes full
Paired upon, as lace meets wool
Interwoven and tenderly spun on a galactic spool
Stars In Exile
Twinkling for eyes to glimpse beyond the earth’s smile
Canopus to Antares, oh how you make me shine
Closing my eyes, coveting your point as I’m making you mine
Settled and glittering as small diamonds binding in the sky
A wondrous elopement to experience in the blink of an eye
Soft whispers to the ones that shoot right before they fall
Such a beautiful and breathlessly cadence to wish under them all
The Gift Of The Sun’s Stroke
Umm, shooting stars kept me awoke
Relentless bodies bathing under the moon
Caresses, touches, entwined souls echoing the note of its weakening tunes
Sweeter and sweeter, deeper and deeper
Bodies fueled, hot as a heater, bodies climbing steeper and steeper
Heat consumes the interior of the temple
Sweat of life, as movements come together and then disassemble
Elated, sedated, dipping in a cool blue lagoon
Kisses under the sun on a beautiful afternoon
Temperatures rising not a moment too soon
June slamming into summer’s heat
A merriment of a sun stroke basking in the glorious feast
The galaxy and its spicy passion
A gift to the world to enjoy in any unbridled fashion
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 1:17 PM UTC
Love, Elopement, Conception, Repetition
All play foully into life
Love: A child will grow up trained to find a partner, like a penguin has a life mate. But they say we descend from the apes who rule by size; who mate by harem. There is not any love.
Elopement: Since the beginning of recognition there has been marriage but it is nothing more that sexist imprisonment; slavery of the female race. Bound by a contract and traded between men; simply a form of bribery.
Conception: Child birth; monster breeding. The abuse of a woman’s womb, body, soul and mind.
Repetition: The fact we don’t learn and do it over and over again
Aug 11, 2011
Aug 11, 2011 at 12:02 PM UTC
Love.
You came like aurora
appearing with the mist
of a cloudy horizon
carrying the boundless
admiration of your oceanic eyes.
You waited over bridges
we’re about to cross.
In calmness
and life bouys
directing my heart
in a field where dragonflies
are coupled with yellow grass
along the revealing peak
of a mountain and smoke
coming from last night’s bonfire.
Love.
All I feel for you now
is love.
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 8:42 AM UTC
I dance in circles holding
the moth of the marriage,
thin, sticky, fluttering
its skirts, its webs.
The moth oozing a tear,
or is it a drop of *****
The moth, grinning like a pear,
or is it teeth
clamping the iron maiden shut?
The moth,
who is my mother,
who is my father,
who was my lover,
floats airily out of my hands
and I dance slower,
pulling off the fat diamond engagement ring,
pulling off the elopement wedding ring,
and holding them, clicking them
in thumb and forefinger,
the indent of twenty-five years,
like a tiny rip of a tiny earthquake.
Underneath the soil lies the violence,
the shift, the crack of continents,
the anger,
and above only a cut,
a half-inch space to stick a pencil in.
The finger is scared
but it keeps its long numb place.
And I keep dancing,
a sort of waltz,
clicking the two rings,
all of a life at its last cough,
as I swim through the air of the kitchen,
and the same radio plays its songs
and I make a small path through them
with my bare finger and my funny feet,
doing the undoing dance,
on April 14th, 1973,
letting my history rip itself off me
and stepping into
something unknown
and transparent,
but all ten fingers stretched outward,
flesh extended as metal
waiting for a magnet.
1.8k
*His eyes rivet on the extravagant evening sun,
in frenzied creation, profusely mixing colors,
applying on the canvas of the horizon,
painting her, his lover with astonishing precision,
--portrait of a girl in love
unmindful of what the world thinks about her
and in total dedication to her man.
Love makes larger than life heroes out of weak mortals,
and creates echoes on the far horizons that keep on reverberating!
She sits quietly holding his hands as if it is all she needs
never thinking, it is obvious, whether this is a fallacy or ultimate truth,
that holds good for all the changing seasons.
With her long chiseled fingers she draws
something beautiful, a motif that emerged in her mind,
in front of them, the seascape, was a lively cyclorama
framed by bright ultramarine.
Like eels just out of water, their bodies gleaming,
bikini clad glam girls, beach soldiers spearheading
an undeclared beauty attack,
on the look out for hidden challenges
while walking past the love pair,
each one stands awhile, scrutinizing her thoroughly
measuring with a scale, hidden in those eyes,
as if she was a **** on parade, even women couldn't help covet.
Though inappropriately dressed, for the beachfront appearance,
she invites more attention, she is amused.
But after a tumultuous love, and eventful elopement
she is in bliss, in her love-land with her prince
she is just ecstatic, no thought could make her shake off her composure.*
Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 2:15 AM UTC
Gray gathering
Signs fell on the musty register. Two pallid
Faces infatuate, braiding the ley lines,
Were married in a dimly lit registry.
Outside, the sky in Dublin was a dark pool,
The clouds were omen, birds, startled in
Your eyes, a flashing flue of doves, all wings
A warring coo, escaping into the dusk.
We walked a ways to that room of dreams
And dined in the Shelbourne’s Aisling room.
I was Ormond, I was Yeats and you
Were gone. Your happy tears were notes singing
Our sorrows that day. Our love was castaway
Our love was time bomb. Crossing stars, we trembled
As we talked. Two birds setting sights on some
Lost ocean’s horizon.
When first we met,
At the meeting hall, cradled in a tempest
Eye, you gave me your name and it burned on
The paper as it now burns in my mind
Like Brigid’s fire. At once, once, we were one.
Conjoined yet neither one of us a joiner.
Anointed under the votive stars violently
Innocent your heart, a spike, my heart
A rail. Our love was charmed, our love was time,
Balm. To what end this new beginning?
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 1:20 PM UTC
Gray gathering
Signs fell on the musty register. Two pallid
Faces infatuate, braiding the ley lines,
Were married in a dimly lit registry.
Outside, the sky in Dublin was a dark pool,
The clouds were omen, birds, startled in
Your eyes, a flashing flue of doves, all wings
A warring coo, escaping into the dusk.
We walked a ways to that room of dreams
And dined in the Shelbourne’s Aisling room.
I was Ormond, I was Yeats and you
Were gone. Your happy tears were notes singing
Our sorrows that day. Our love was castaway
Our love was time bomb. Crossing stars, we trembled
As we talked. Two birds setting sights on some
Lost ocean’s horizon.
When first we met,
At the meeting hall, cradled in a tempest
Eye, you gave me your name and it burned on
The paper as it now burns in my mind
Like Brigid’s fire. At once, once, we were one.
Conjoined yet neither one of us a joiner.
Anointed under the votive stars violently
Innocent your heart, a spike, my heart
A rail. Our love was charmed, our love was time,
Balm. To what end this new beginning?
Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 12:18 PM UTC
We were born untainted like empty canvas; a bud of roses.
But as time linger we digress from our innocence and actual selves.
We were scratched and polished, from diamonds pulvarized to dirt.
The facade we kept after succumbing to society’s propriety became us,
And the true face and being what we were became lost in time.
The mirror no longer reveals us, because we metamorphosed to someone else.
Another face in society, swallowed by the world’s expectations and encumbrance.
The appropriateness of etiquette, social conformity, and worldly priorities.
Day by day, we became less of ourselves, and more like everyone else.
Converging needs and wants, we lost our personal uniqueness,
And it seems like our attempt to be different is the same as everyone’s else.
By and by, we effort for elopement to get out of the box is futile – rather impossible.
Epitome of wealth and exclusiveness; highest degree of poverty and martyrdom.
In between those of extreme pillars, everyone seems to be in between and at both sides.
The world has become more dimensional, efficient, yet ineffective.
For our sweat and blood goes out for the wrong reasons;
And we fight against one another, (thus fighting against ourselves), to become the winner.
The winners aren’t actually victorious; neither are the loser the ultimate champions.
And this is only a mere microcosm,
to signify how the multifarious constituents that the world has formed:
a composite, complex, compound conformed convolution.
Apr 20, 2012
Apr 20, 2012 at 12:07 PM UTC
Gray gathering
Signs fell on the musty register. Two pallid
Faces infatuate, braiding the ley lines,
Were married in a dimly lit registry.
Outside, the sky in Dublin was a dark pool,
The clouds were omen, birds, startled in
Your eyes, a flashing flue of doves, all wings
A warring coo, escaping into the dusk.
We walked a ways to that room of dreams
And dined in the Shelbourne’s Aisling room.
I was Ormond, I was Yeats and you
Were gone. Your happy tears were notes singing
Our sorrows that day. Our love was castaway
Our love was time bomb. Crossing stars, we trembled
As we talked. Two birds setting sights on some
Lost ocean’s horizon.
When first we met,
At the meeting hall, cradled in a tempest
Eye, you gave me your name and it burned on
The paper as it now burns in my mind
Like Brigid’s fire. At once, once, we were one.
Conjoined yet neither one of us a joiner.
Anointed under the votive stars violently
Innocent your heart, a spike, my heart
A rail. Our love was charmed, our love was time,
Balm. To what end this new beginning?
Jun 1, 2012
Jun 1, 2012 at 2:31 PM UTC
Gray gathering
Signs fell on the musty register. Two pallid
Faces infatuate, braiding the ley lines,
Were married in a dimly lit registry.
Outside, the sky in Dublin was a dark pool,
The clouds were omen, birds, startled in
Your eyes, a flashing flue of doves, all wings
A warring coo, escaping into the dusk.
We walked a ways to that room of dreams
And dined in the Shelbourne’s Aisling room.
I was Ormond, I was Yeats and you
Were gone. Your happy tears were notes singing
Our sorrows that day. Our love was castaway
Our love was time bomb. Crossing stars, we trembled
As we talked. Two birds setting sights on some
Lost ocean’s horizon.
When first we met,
At the meeting hall, cradled in a tempest
Eye, you gave me your name and it burned on
The paper as it now burns in my mind
Like Brigid’s fire. At once, once, we were one.
Conjoined yet neither one of us a joiner.
Anointed under the votive stars violently
Innocent your heart, a spike, my heart
A rail. Our love was charmed, our love was time,
Balm. To what end this new beginning?
Jan 7, 2013
Jan 7, 2013 at 6:23 PM UTC
She eloped with my heart,
I am told to wait until dark.
Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 8:40 AM UTC
The drifter and the comely young women who gleamed with charisma walk passed the rabble-rousers on their way to tie the knot
The rabble-rousers cheer, tossing out superlatives, praising their oncoming matrimony
The young woman is chomping at the bit to finally settle down
The drifter is on the same boat, he can't keep living the life of a rolling stone
He's gonna give the married life a whirl
She has her dress in a brown paper bag and he has on the shiniest cuff links this side of the Pacific
Some say they just portrayed a happy couple
But behind closed doors they had hidden intentions
But I'd wager that they truly loved each other
But my my opinion is superfluous, they know in their hearts what they're doing is right
So they got that going for them
They make their way to the ****** who is set to marry the two
Until they are ambushed by pinheads with the gift of gab and know it all's who know nothing but still try to talk out of their ***** even though their heads are already wedged tightly up them already
Egregious questions and tauntings of habitual bullshitters
What was God thinking during their creation?
Good thing the worst of them all has been tarred and feather and ran out of town on a rail, or so I've been told
They finally reach their destination and say their vows right off their cuffs
Say I do, kiss with just me in attendance
And leave all these sheep all these irritants behind
And embark on their new life together
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 4:21 PM UTC
Gray gathering
Signs fell on the musty register. Two pallid
Faces infatuate, braiding the ley lines,
Were married in a dimly lit registry.
Outside, the sky in Dublin was a dark pool,
The clouds were omen, birds, startled in
Your eyes, a flashing flue of doves, all wings
A warring coo, escaping into the dusk.
We walked a ways to that room of dreams
And dined in the Shelbourne’s Aisling room.
I was Ormond, I was Yeats and you
Were gone. Your happy tears were notes singing
Our sorrows that day. Our love was castaway
Our love was time bomb. Crossing stars, we trembled
As we talked. Two birds setting sights on some
Lost ocean’s horizon.
When first we met,
At the meeting hall, cradled in a tempest
Eye, you gave me your name and it burned on
The paper as it now burns in my mind
Like Brigid’s fire. At once, once, we were one.
Conjoined yet neither one of us a joiner.
Anointed under the votive stars violently
Innocent your heart, a spike, my heart
A rail. Our love was charmed, our love was time,
Balm. To what end this new beginning?
May 17, 2016
May 17, 2016 at 10:43 PM UTC
How I precipitate within and around
trash to steam factory's super chimneys
Ideas ***********
amongst rising glow of cantaloupe colored sky
And why am I?
Beholden to a notion
of fanciful or foolish, concept of nuptials
puffing pother
or why bother to effuse such ******* encumbrance
Trouble sweats unease
Cold feet, that can't afford proper socks
know the sludging embankments
of Camden Crick (colloquialism of creek)
As it were, a driving force of elopement
An eschewal of plastic bottle heap
Knowing fictile landscapes
with condensations murky in skies,
chance entices
Grasping for refuge
from refuse
Jan 16, 2017
Jan 16, 2017 at 7:20 AM UTC
Gray gathering
Signs fell on the musty register. Two pallid
Faces infatuate, braiding the ley lines,
Were married in a dimly lit registry.
Outside, the sky in Dublin was a dark pool,
The clouds were omen, birds, startled in
Your eyes, a flashing flue of doves, all wings
A warring coo, escaping into the dusk.
We walked a ways to that room of dreams
And dined in the Shelbourne’s Aisling room.
I was Ormond, I was Yeats and you
Were gone. Your happy tears were notes singing
Our sorrows that day. Our love was castaway
Our love was time bomb. Crossing stars, we trembled
As we talked. Two birds setting sights on some
Lost ocean’s horizon.
When first we met,
At the meeting hall, cradled in a tempest
Eye, you gave me your name and it burned on
The paper as it now burns in my mind
Like Brigid’s fire. At once, once, we were one.
Conjoined yet neither one of us a joiner.
Anointed under the votive stars violently
Innocent your heart, a spike, my heart
A rail. Our love was charmed, our love was time,
Balm. To what end this new beginning?
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 3:23 PM UTC
‘Be waiting up at the window,’ said
The note he sent by hand,
‘I’ll come and collect you at midnight,’
Said the note, ‘the way we planned.’
She heard the clatter of hoofbeats in
The courtyard down below,
And waved to him from the window
As she seized her portmanteau.
She quickly skipped down the staircase
Holding both her shoes in hand,
Trying to avoid the clatter as
She raced down to her man,
It only took but a moment then
To seat her on his horse,
And gallop out of the courtyard on
Their way to the watercourse.
A light appeared in an upper room
And they heard her father roar,
‘By God, you’ll pay for your insolence,
I told you once before.’
He’d promised her to a Banker’s clerk
Who had paid him for her hand,
Though she had said that it wouldn’t work,
She had bowed to his command.
But then the couple had plotted,
He was sworn to break her free,
‘If anyone is to marry, it
Will just be you to me.’
They headed down to the water where
The sloop, ‘The Esperance’,
Was waiting for their arrival
Before sailing off to France.
It took an hour to set the sails
And wait for the tide to turn,
They hid themselves below the deck
In a cabin at the stern,
But soon the thunder of hoofbeats said
They must have been found out,
For then they heard her father’s call,
‘It’s best that you come out,’
He ventured slowly out on the deck
To reason with the man,
Then saw the flash of the powder that
Was loaded in the pan,
The ball cut straight through his windpipe,
Left him sprawling on the deck,
While she was dragged from below, and screamed
‘All curses on your neck.’
He locked her into an attic room
And he wouldn’t let her out,
Though she would wail, and would scream at him,
And curse and yell, and shout,
She waited up till the early hours
Then she set her room alight,
The fire spread till they all were dead
From that single candlelight.
It sits as a blackened ruin now
With soot on the standing walls,
A testament to a daughter who
Refused to be overruled,
And still some nights when the moon is bright
There’s a whisper, close at hand,
‘I’ll come and collect you at midnight,
And we’ll leave, the way we planned.’
David Lewis Paget
Dec 7, 2017
Dec 7, 2017 at 8:38 PM UTC
and that was it
you said your piece, however shallow it may be
(although the depths of you could fill the most desolate valley)
and you didn't even say goodbye
you didn't even say goodbye
which shouldn't confuse or surprise me
for your goodbyes now are fleeting, thoughtless, and cold
i thought about you for a minute, or an hour...a while
and i stopped looking for the right words
because i knew they'd never come
(as i'll never come, and you'll never leave my blood thirsty, orange heart)
i'd waited for you, for touches that never were
for solace, elopement, truth
but you're fading as the color from my cheeks
the little that lingered
from the first time you said "i love you"
i had no need to write it down then, because your words had been
my face
one with the underwater world
the infinite life residing in me
now your words float on my surface,
not etched or engrained or all encompassing
but poorly tossed aside
to land, wherever the wind might blow them
and i knew then, with the lack of resonating
that your resignation had been sent
over the airways
and that my heart was leaps behind
my brain
had already suppressed your name
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 8:03 PM UTC
Gray gathering
Signs fell on the musty register. Two pallid
Faces infatuate, braiding the ley lines,
Were married in a dimly lit registry.
Outside, the sky in Dublin was a dark pool,
The clouds were omen, birds, startled in
Your eyes, a flashing flue of doves, all wings
A warring coo, escaping into the dusk.
We walked a ways to that room of dreams
And dined in the Shelbourne’s Aisling room.
I was Ormond, I was Yeats and you
Were gone. Your happy tears were notes singing
Our sorrows that day. Our love was castaway
Our love was time bomb. Crossing stars, we trembled
As we talked. Two birds setting sights on some
Lost ocean’s horizon.
When first we met,
At the meeting hall, cradled in a tempest
Eye, you gave me your name and it burned on
The paper as it now burns in my mind
Like Brigid’s fire. At once, once, we were one.
Conjoined yet neither one of us a joiner.
Anointed under the votive stars violently
Innocent your heart, a spike, my heart
A rail. Our love was charmed, our love was time,
Balm. To what end this new beginning?
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 1:27 PM UTC
Newly oriented to certain fragrance
Spring whiffs may never smell the same
Coming out of nowhere, like elopement
or questionless death; perfume or incense
Redolence of planting garlic cloves
Also inhalation of hyacinth gives dissimilar
but now current to what may be good
or more thought provoked with profundity
Deepness sets in and pushes out
All goes on, but different
What's certain is, baseball season has started
and batters will have whiffs
Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 11:24 AM UTC
.
Gray gathering
Signs fell on the musty register. Two pallid
Faces infatuate, braiding the ley lines,
Were married in a dimly lit registry.
Outside, the sky in Dublin was a dark pool,
The clouds were omen, birds, startled in
Your eyes, a flashing flue of doves, all wings
A warring coo, escaping into the dusk.
We walked a ways to that room of dreams
And dined in the Shelbourne’s Aisling room.
I was Ormond, I was Yeats and you
Were gone. Your happy tears were notes singing
Our sorrows that day. Our love was castaway
Our love was time bomb. Crossing stars, we trembled
As we talked. Two birds setting sights on some
Lost ocean’s horizon.
When first we met,
At the meeting hall, cradled in a tempest
Eye, you gave me your name and it burned on
The paper as it now burns in my mind
Like Brigid’s fire. At once, once, we were one.
Conjoined yet neither one of us a joiner.
Anointed under the votive stars violently
Innocent your heart, a spike, my heart
A rail. Our love was charmed, our love was time,
Balm. To what end this new beginning?
Oct 2, 2016
Oct 2, 2016 at 6:55 PM UTC
Here's where the sip
drips slowly down my chin
she elaborates on the fragments
some self proclaimed
elopement
between her own bitter desires
to distinguish any fire
while she sits like cinders
singing the same praise
he once made
alone in the corner
headset tangled
her mania ignites
it's a spark
where she once knelt in
parking lots
throwing trash over fences
she stands taller
her embodiment of life
smaller
you sing to her like she's shallow
she cascaded down mountain sides
before she bent to you
sang behind the musty moments
of lover's eyes
broke bones
to mold the same life
you claim is your rightful
and true
she doesn't even beg
if only you knew.
Sep 5, 2017
Sep 5, 2017 at 5:17 PM UTC
Lately, I wonder.. whats really important?
I wonder if its love and or elopement?
I know the things I want but assume I'm undeserving.
So I keep my mouth shut.
Trying to keep my words vague and reassuring.
Pretending i'm not stuck in this rut.
I crave purpose, I want to take risks.
Intimidated by my shadow.
I slap my wrists.
can't help but feel hollow.
I'll continue to trudge on through.
Because I've been told, that's the right thing to do.
Dec 17, 2018
Dec 17, 2018 at 4:46 AM UTC