"elusiveness" poems
Twenty-six times the bells will chime today
Tragedy lives where apathy is sought
Gazing outside I see no children play
Tears which we shed in a glass are now caught
The tears are now saved and we will have drink
Twenty-six times we have pain to swallow
Tragedy's cup compels fairness to shrink
And fragmented hearts embrace the sorrow
When the cup runs over we start to drown
On the sadness we invited to come
And jewels we place in tragedy's crown
Provide the reason we will mourn for some
As we choke on sorrow with awareness
Ponder the elusiveness of fairness
© Christopher Chronister. All rights reserved
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 3:08 AM UTC
Wooing you is like wooing a cat.
I walk half way
and wait for you
to meet me in the middle.
Holding out my hand
in a gentle gesture,
I let you sniff me out
to determine whether
or not I’m a threat.
I don’t speak too
loudly,
I don’t move too
quickly,
and I certainly
don’t touch you without
your express permission.
You rarely come
when I call,
but instead of
allowing bitterness to
build within me,
I am learning to
enjoy the surprise of
your unexpected presence.
Your elusiveness
challenges my self esteem,
yet your touch
rebukes my insecurity.
I cannot gain your
affection by force.
Indeed,
I would only succeed
in reaping resentment;
but there is beauty to be found
in the tenderness that is
freely given.
Jan 6, 2013
Jan 6, 2013 at 11:55 PM UTC
Addiction
No, not what you think, not needles, not bottles, not too much food or too little, not sleeping 18 hours or running until feet bleed, not *********** not voyeurism, not pole-dancing or jello shots or driving 150 mph down dark streets, not working to exhaustion, not bizarre rituals, not staring into bright lights or ******* on sweet treats until a migraine sets in, not pulling out fingernails or walking with pebbles in shoes, thinking any of this brings God to the door.
No, none of these excesses
But, life? Yes. Addicted to breathing, yes. Addicted to sweetness of morning-light, yes. Addicted to aroma of salt water, when the sun swings low and pelicans skim the curling waves in search of dinner, oh yes. And playing hide-n-go-seek with my three year old neighbor, yes. Addicted to not giving up on that African violet in the windowsill, despite its crispy appearance, to watching my child shimmy, yes and yes. To her well-being, her off-key singing, a resounding yes! To letting family be. To the solitude of a hot shower. Addicted to your righteousness, your swagger, the way dimming sunlight cups your body, I’ll admit it, yes. And anticipation of oysters still in their rough shells. And never, ever worrying about whether these are excesses or not because it’s in the elusiveness of the word (addiction, for example, or desire or want or tenacity), in the lone gesture, the moment before that door opens and the house empties of terror and fills with human breath that the balance is reset.
Jul 15, 2012
Jul 15, 2012 at 4:58 PM UTC
Sasquatch stalking woods
Glimpsed never ensnared
Homonids beauty of elusiveness
Ancestral biped prints
Folklore, hoax , unhindered
ages devoid evidence
Bristly forest devil
Conclusively confirmed
ancient Polar Bear
Oct 18, 2013
Oct 18, 2013 at 3:39 PM UTC
Oh delicious, warm hearted cup of tea,
No combination of words in my brain,
Can express the immense joy you bring me.
It’s elusiveness, I cannot explain.
The sweet spices and heat touching my lips
Soothes my soul and removes all of my woes.
I hold happiness in my fingertips,
And disappear from my head to my toes,
To the sweet place only you can bring me,
A place where I am nothing but happy.
Oh warm hearted cup of peppermint tea,
Your existence is but a gift for me.
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 4:47 AM UTC
What is it about the unattainable that makes us want it so much more?
On that rainy day in January,
I saw you standing in line,
Waiting to pay
For the book.
You know the one.
It's been whispering sweet promises
In my ear.
How it will be the best I ever have
It will imprint on me.
I tried to resist the allure
But it's elusiveness pulled me in
Like coiling tendrils
Of immeasurable strength.
I dreamt about that book
Waited for it to come to that store
And there you were
Buying the only available copy.
I knew then
That I wanted you both.
I followed you out
Having a witty dialogue in my head
You would be snared by my charisma
I would get my book.
You stopped at a black car
The passenger door opened.
Out stepped Delilah
the woman that kills dreams.
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 10:21 AM UTC
Sometimes inspiration is free
Other-times it costs you the world
In our abandon we seek
Divinity, eternity
And often the meaning
Of our words
Eludes even us
Are we an author?
A seeker?
A valiant warrior
Braving the darkness
Seeking for such elusiveness
It sets the mind free
Within that darkness
Lies the eternal
A place without form
A castle, a dungeon
And for the unwise
A prison without end
And only those
Well acquainted
With their own madness
May tread its murky waters
To pluck that fruit
Whose shape is an omnipresent
Kaleidoscope of meanings
And to solidify its form
And cast it onto sprawling page
This is our work
Our bottomless pit
Our greatest weakness
And our ultimate triumph.
-----
Reformatted version:
Sometimes inspiration is free
other-times it costs you the world
In our abandon we seek
Divinity, eternity
And often the meaning of our words
eludes even us
Are we an author?
A seeker?
A valiant warrior braving the darkness
seeking for such elusiveness
It sets the mind free
within that darkness lies the eternal
a place without form
a castle, a dungeon
and for the unwise, a prison without end
And only those well acquainted
with their own madness
may tread its murky waters
To pluck that fruit
whose shape is an omnipresent kaleidoscope of meanings
and to solidify its form
and cast it onto sprawling page
This is our work
our bottomless pit
our greatest weakness
and our ultimate triumph.
May 28, 2021
May 28, 2021 at 3:03 PM UTC
Ello, Enlightenment.
Yet we meet again,
Your elusiveness is profound.
Because, I haven’t found,
How to hold on to thee.
Shall I sit underneath a tree?
No, I will just be.
In tune with nature,
Like the bees.
In my future,
What changes things? Powerfully,
I think, that it is me.
Self-centeredism is the past,
Forget your sins.
Commit good only, please.
Freeze time. Forward-backward,
Not an option, but now we are here.
Forget time, unleash your nowness.
We are here as sentient beings.
Can you change anything?
Be that which you are,
But don’t be the same as you were.
Growth comes from you,
Inside your mind.
It’s a choice, so choose first;
That which is better.
Don’t settle like the dirt under your feet.
Push forward and see the beautiful
Being that you can be,
that you are to me.
By: GeoEthE
Georges Ethan Eloquin
Good Environmental Ethics
Great Energy Everywhere
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 1:08 AM UTC
They say "you can't go home again"
I dismissed the thought; believed that I could return to the town that I once
rode through on my beach cruiser,
walked through with my friends,
utilized poor construction sites as makeout spots
"I've come home", he sings
but if there is one thing that I believe my mother was right in saying is
that this is all geography
That perhaps is the scariest thought of all;
that I don't yet know where by home is or who will fill rooms with music
and enjoy the elusiveness of life with
I've come home
but not in the way he means it
I have come home to my teenage broken heart--and its perpetrator
I have come home to a house where I was on month-long bed rests
I have come home to a structure that is seemingly not mine
I suppose I wish it wasn't true;
that you can't go home again
and things are ever changing...
that is something we must accept as we grow older
When I truly think about it though, I don't know that I would want to return to my once "home"
I think I just wish I had one.
Dec 24, 2015
Dec 24, 2015 at 2:05 AM UTC
Sleek dark hair
Highlights of auburn, color of fall
Stern lips
A look of austerity in the dark russet eye
Skin lighter than my own
The smaller wrist
Large eyes
Faint deepening crow's feet
Nursing knowledge
Small, short, slight, petite, and strong
Maternal vanguard
Matriarchal
Beautiful and earthly
Scorpionic elusiveness
Her unused canvas
Frequent Homegoods purchased
Shifts decor in the livingroom like a Feng Shui practitioner
Laughs at the absurdity of modern horror movies
Smells like bath wash and too much perfume
Smells of my childhood
Smells of my innocence
Paperbacks of Hugo and Austen in boxes in the basement
Paperbacks of The Symposium and a biography of Marx in the basement
Secretly likes to cook
Culinary explorer
Gastronomically open
Culinary door opener
Very little circle of friends
Outspoken
Austerity on the small mouth
Austerity in the small mouth
Conviction in her voice
Soft graphite in her voice
Has a lisp sometimes
The slight overbite(?)
Immigrant parent
Unnaturalized citizen
Reminds me of fall
Reminds me of everything
Reminds me of very little at once
Life-teacher, one of many
Protective
Over-protective
Pushy
The way her hand moves on her tablet
The way her voice sounded during a lecture when I was a child
The way she used to hug
Closet full of shoes and clothes she rummages through when she's going out
Meticulous cleaner
The way her voice sounded when she tried to make sense of me
The way her voice sounds
...
Oct 9, 2017
Oct 9, 2017 at 5:23 AM UTC
Happiness to me is looking so fragile, so tiny
Hollowed out
Saggy jeans
Sharp protruding hip
bones that make me grin when I peek at my reflection in the mirror
Twig like legs
The visible spine on my back once covered by
flesh that has since disappeared
The glorious collar bones how they symbolise control of the self, superiority, victory
Counting my ribs when I lightly breathe in
The veins on my hands how they encourage me to keep restricting
The voice embedded in my head with her constant whispers - Just a little more and you'll be perfect - she lies It's never enough
The stares, how I love to hate them... the more stares the more sick I look proof that perfection is within my reach
I am forever feeling faint, drained, disoriented and always near collapsing
Hunger gnawing away inside of me
And yet this feels like success
The shackles keep getting tighter the older I get
Binding me and blinding me with
My disorder beats me into nothing
Sleep is no longer an escape, Even in my dreams it's still there... Tormenting me
This treacherous debilitating
illness
My mind is not my own anymore
It took everything from me to the point where most nights I am unsure if I will wake up in the morning
I'm still here, fighting the
fight and that counts
The elusiveness of recovery
The complication of it
How I never will, recover
I will always be haunted
Warped fleshy perceptions
Dangerous methods
Grave consequences
Oct 19, 2013
Oct 19, 2013 at 7:12 AM UTC
How does a memory become a dream?
I know it was the truth once,
But it is elusive,
Then vivid.
Vivid, elusive, elusive, vivid.
I cannot remember
If I found you,
Or lost you-
And in which order?
So where are you now?
Lost, or found?
With me?
Without me?
The answer torments me with its vividness
And scorns me with its elusiveness.
I know where you are,
But I am not in the right place
To go there,
(Gerry Aldridge 2016)
Aug 17, 2016
Aug 17, 2016 at 8:53 PM UTC
Floating through
The elusiveness
Of you
A poor imitation
I have conjured
and entangled in
these passages
To experience you
unutterable
A breath of
desire in
my interlude
from you.
As I try to
Grasp the
Clouds and stars
Of you
In my mind.
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 6:22 AM UTC
*Standing beyond guards,
twisted bars and shards
With shattered knuckles
and broken ankles
Dilated eyes in the face of elusiveness
Where is freedom in hollowness?
Spinning round in vast emptiness
Conceptions, misconceptions
mixing in wild motions
Surrounded by scented candles
and flowers posing birth or perhaps death
....Fainted in bewilderment....
*
Apr 23, 2017
Apr 23, 2017 at 4:55 PM UTC
Searching for a monument to build,
to my stranger nature.
A display of living purpose,
but it's paper,
A failure to surface,
when the current spills
my hopes out to the maker.
I'm breathing toxic calamity like a vapor.
I'm receding, firing soliloquies over faders,
and waiting for it to taper.
The baser instinct to sink into
to a shape conforming destiny's favor, amazing
but it's death in a manger.
A gift of unrequested breath
to levy questions of our nature
impartial but starting to loose
the fruit for us to play with
Don't play with your food
the canopy vines can't seem to stay in the mood
when amity cries
just as we bite another layer
and hope our spirit affords an existential favor.
The corporeal farce of the mortal coil
Where I'm going, what I've done,
who I am, who I have to become
Who am I to give a ****
about what has to be done
will I be actualized
if I inhabit the gun
will I be dazzled to find
that I should never have won
that all my fevers of prayer
were only threads to be spun
I am the definition of survivor's bias
clamoring for comprehension to a writer's silence
buying into lines reverberating in my mind
and all the while I soak
in revelation of the killing kindness
an absence of a unique purpose
a lavish elusiveness revealing
time as worthless, when I dig for deeper meaning
but seemingly informed by enduring
anguish in a world to test which
axiom I'll push the furthest
my reluctance to lift the curtain
My redundancy in spilling refusal
sooner empty than truly certain
My abundance of energy
filling the room
I bask in knowledge
Honoring the right to never learn it
And so I paint
I drape the walls and fall into
the sordid echoes,
calling through the mist.
Simple soothing bruising lips
They whistle darkness
move your hips
I'll leave a mark
I'm through with this.
Dec 30, 2018
Dec 30, 2018 at 2:00 AM UTC
As a child she was touched
Unpleasant experiences merged with her angry genes
Her face is like a cover of an illusionary book
There is suffering underneath the butterfly mask
A self-destructive fire burns deep inside her
Eating her mind unconsciously
She is impulsive and moody and promiscuous
Dancing footsteps in the fire
Her captivating spirit, I will never forget
Her elusiveness breaths mystery
And she was always so easily bored
Seeking for excitement in her life
Thrill after thrill, otherwise she would get depressed
Her never-ending appetite for adventure and attention
It was so easy to get caught in her spell
She is defiant and disgruntled with the world
Pessimistic at times, but who could blame her?
Has too much empathy for those who don’t deserve the suffering
Or for those who live life blinded by all sorts of authority
There was this tendency to be drawn to her, as she gave of this unique energy
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 8:46 AM UTC
*With years of mind numbing digging
Persistence pays off with time
I would almost call it a living
This life long search for the treasure of rhyme
Harder to track than the abominable snowman
Slippery than that monster in Loch Ness
More cunning than Jack the Ripper trailing a stripper
Is the hidden rhymes elusiveness
I've been from one end of the lobe to the other
In the deep dark recesses of the mind
Hoping to finally discover
Where it has hidden the pockets of rhyme
When I discover it I'll come back victorious
I will then share with poetry my find
The words that I use will be various
As I open to all the treasure of rhyme*
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 9:26 AM UTC
justice eludes reality
for in its elusiveness,
it cowers in the darkness of its origin.
the ego is its master.
a voice that chants I matter...
I mean something, not necessarily
more or less
just something.
justice uses the voice of the many
speaks in the tongue of the people
bred to seek justice. so that justice
has a voice.
because
concepts cannot actually speak.
ripple effects of
conversations of justice
and of death seek
all who seek their frequency.
ripple effects shock
me at night,
vibrate my senses.
I seek ripple effects.
I am charged in the current
of inspiration
and creation,
cooperating with the flow
of things.
all things have a flow.
all things have a flow.
conversations of justice
and peace
(anywhere outside oneself)
create a charge of energy
and we feel it
as it passes through
our senses.
since the conversations of
peace and justice began
people have been
confused.
we no longer understand
the language of
the senses.
we get hung up on words...
my heartbreaks for his mother regardless
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 5:42 AM UTC
you loved the mystery in me,
the thrill of not knowing my story,
and while i wasn't interested at all,
you, figuring me, was my downfall
i became too comfortable
that i let you pass into my armour,
and when i wanted to know you more,
you became unknown
waiting was all i could do
but i knew it wasn't an option for you
because i'm no longer that someone you were curious about
—you only liked me when i was a stranger,
you ignored me when you got to know me better
Aug 15, 2023
Aug 15, 2023 at 12:02 PM UTC
*Why is love at times elusive
Why does it feel the need to hide
Why can't it come out in the open
And hold hands with you and I
Why does it claim to be adventurous
Then gets lost out in the world
Why is it when love it is I mention
Your nowhere to be found girl
Why does love take you up so high
Why does love bring you down so low
Why can't love make up it's mind
Those of us in need of love would really love to know*
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 8:13 AM UTC
When I look into the eyes of a child
A sense of fun, love and beauty smiles down on me.
When I look into the eyes of a child
I remember stillness and the stillness of just being me
I remember love and the joy of knowing love
And of needing not to be.
When I look into the eyes a child
There is an elusiveness that reminds me
That there is something I still need to remember.
I am encased in all that I am but not all that I have to be.
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 4:24 PM UTC
Your hand in mine
we walk into the places that lack radiance,
the places I've never shown anyone before.
Comfort me, you do.
Elusiveness my fallback.
I emptied you of your love,
your company no longer given.
Manipulation of the heart,
regret is my companion.
My hand now emptied,
though not just my hand but my heart,
places that used to be occupied by forgiveness,
though forgiveness no longer given.
Your heart turned grey with the passing of each day.
My being no longer wanted.
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 4:06 PM UTC
You're the color of chittering pansies, giggling at my visage
You've the elusiveness of a panicked rabbit, scurrying towards slippage
Down a hole I go, how far? I do not know, perhaps time will stop and I'll float
Like smoke O's and alphabet accusations, questions confused by answers
Running to circle back again, disoriented though stuck in place.
How many oysters must I taste before the guilt can be erased?
Thrown to waste, slit a smile upon my face while I fade.
You're a thief, with a turtle shell hidden in your pocket
Mock my strength by stripping me of defenses.
I'm always late even though time doesn't move,
And you don't like tea so you'd rather snooze.
-SLuR
Jan 25, 2018
Jan 25, 2018 at 12:05 PM UTC
The problem is that I am searching for spontaneous combustion, the kind of instant burning up and irrevocable passion...emotions forged so deeply that it hurts as much as it feels good, simultaneously.
The problem is that despite the exterior walls and unconfirmed emotional detachment issues, I think that deep down I want romance and to be swept off my feet.
The problem is that either the above does not exist or that I am not good enough to be a recipient of it.
The problem is perhaps that I am the problem - I am not too naive nor ignorant to have not assumed this. So I suppose I will just have to fall in love with literature
And fall in love with the beautiful
And fall in love with the ******
Did you notice how that was a Scott Fitzgerald reference
Probably not
And that defines the elusiveness of what I am looking for
And it illuminates the fact
That perhaps it does not exist at all
Or even more heartbreakingly
That it was not destined for me
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 6:18 AM UTC
this distance seems irrelevant
in the half light of a quarter turn
in the shaft of Sun that dances
through the cracked cloud
the rain teetering
i run to the corner
that is pitch
but never reach the end
the room expands into a desert
and I just keep
running
sad...
the elusiveness of time
Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 10:32 AM UTC