"embellishing" poems
The belated summer sky is alive
with a D r a g o n f l y ballet
Beneath,.. the rain parched sod
lay sullied, cracked open
by an unsated thirstiness
awaiting the painted autumn days
and the cleansing rain's renewal
A lace-winged hatch rises skyward
— meandering airborne —
drifting upwards like a burst of dust
dissipating in an invisible cloud
of eventide's silent breath
Darting shadows hover
above a seeker's curiosity
just this side the
softening sunset backdrop
A synthesis of fluid motion
– darting kinesis –
swift agile fliers
steal away over the thirsty pond;
their mesmerizing beauty enchants
as the dimming dusk falls silent —-
embellishing the unrelenting ending
another summer's
imminent curtain call;
reminding how inexorable-time
is only a contrived human notion,
a recurring extrapolation
of passing seasons
Heightening awareness:
how we too are only
passing through these
unholdable moments
coming to know
we cannot stop
how life unfolds
The raindrops will quench
the pond's aching thirst
again one fall someday...
— hereafter —
there will be another
beauty of dragonflies
some other eyes will see
preying on another burgeoning
gossamer-winged hatch
and
another beckoning autumn
when the dragonflies hover
below the gazing totems
in the treetops
Jesse Stillwater ... September 2018 .
Sep 19, 2018
Sep 19, 2018 at 12:52 PM UTC
A smile fell in the grass.
Irretrievable!
And how will your night dances
Lose themselves. In mathematics?
Such pure leaps and spirals ----
Surely they travel
The world forever, I shall not entirely
Sit emptied of beauties, the gift
Of your small breath, the drenched grass
Smell of your sleeps, lilies, lilies.
Their flesh bears no relation.
Cold folds of ego, the calla,
And the tiger, embellishing itself ----
Spots, and a spread of hot petals.
The comets
Have such a space to cross,
Such coldness, forgetfulness.
So your gestures flake off ----
Warm and human, then their pink light
Bleeding and peeling
Through the black amnesias of heaven.
Why am I given
These lamps, these planets
Falling like blessings, like flakes
Six sided, white
On my eyes, my lips, my hair
Touching and melting.
Nowhere.
15k
*I magine Icarus
C reatively carving his dream
A **** the soft features and
R idges as strong as his beliefs, lays
U nderneath an innocent soul
S tranded in a fantasy.
Icarus
Flying towards the heavens
Embellishing the sky with pearl like wings
Caressing Icarus, soaring passionately.
His own hero in his eyes.
Icarus
Glances up, suddenly hypnotized
By the gleaming sphere of light.
The innocent splash-
Tasting the bitter, revolting sea.
Swallowed whole without notice
With the sound of silence as
Icarus now soars freely with the angels.
Apr 7, 2013
Apr 7, 2013 at 7:53 PM UTC
I can see the way you stare at him, Virgo,
the way your eyelashes become batwing shadows
across your flushing cheeks
when he smiles back at you
I can tell how you feel about him, Virgo,
the feeling that sets the cold stars
embellishing the velvet in your eyes
into infernos.
I can only imagine the pain you felt, Virgo,
when he packed you along like a decoration
then left you on the curb like
a Christmas tree in the New Year.
I can understand why you did it, Virgo,
when you stared down the white throat
of the pill bottle at the dim and empty
bottom of its bowels.
I can't blame you for it, dear Virgo,
anymore than I can blame myself.
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 12:56 AM UTC
We are occupied with being busy
Busy missing those small hints
Busy ignoring people around us
Busy not paying attention to oneself
Busy overlooking the crumbling bonds
Busy clearing away nature’s beauty
Busy taking things for granted
Busy enveloping the truth with falsity
Busy embellishing the present
Someday in future we shall stand trial
As to how occupied were we being busy
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 3:00 AM UTC
I lived my half dictionary life before I could
comprehend compulsory compromises.
Collectors arise, disguises and devices beeping,
chastising my blindness.
Gather geography from Afghanistan and Myanmar
graciously growing gold gilded gift horses,
gleefully gloating about floating far away.
My hoof beats above concrete match my heart’s defeat
across borders and mountains
embroidering cardboard cut-outs
calling deserts, decorating front covers.
Exhaling handcrafted letters for my missing half,
half demanding highest caliber commanders and half commanding completion.
Jade jays joyfully lay arrays of bouquets
fragile flowers decay faraway
in jawbones and jail cells.
Begging farewells in a hotel’s lobby
began my hobby,
early morning coffee and carbon copies
concurringly cocky around his dead body.
Gang ciphers for cartels are
Christmas bells hissing at collars,
half dollars embellishing bar crawlers
godfathers hollering at car haulers.
Atrocities across cities attack,
attachable atrophies audibly ambush arthritic anthologies.
Anomalies begin apologies between apostrophes,
advancing autonomy arousing ancient animosities.
All eluding Antarctica,
giant frozen crests, multi-coloured ice
hidden in my illustrations
anxious for my distant half.
Friday cassettes and cigarettes
deliberately making bets following “M”.
Breaking bindings and finding “beta” in alphabet,
may feasibly end in debt.
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 1:51 PM UTC
We are imperfect products
placed in the midst
of an imperfect society,
a vicious cycle of perseverance
and failure:
constructed,
broken,
fixed,
and fixed again.
Airbrushed and painted
to perfection:
pale skin
flushed cheeks
slim legs
and a smooth mindset.
Opinionated only
on the matter of
superficial products –
glamorizing and embellishing.
Deteriorating enamel –
cracks in a varnished frame.
A scratched surface,
damaged to the core,
polished and glazed over.
Skin made paler,
cheeks more flushed,
skin and bones,
and a mind wiped clean.
Unachievable expectations
and inevitable failure
are enough to b r e a k
even the toughest material
d
o
w
n.
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 12:11 AM UTC
Greens and gold of lattice work cascading down the tree,
This epiphyte, so infinitely, delicately free.
A lattice work of green finesse, a miniature Cezanne
With exquisiteness of spiky bloom embellishing it’s charm.
Cascading down the grizzled trunk of gnarled and twisted hand
The hosting ancient Kamahi looms loftily, so grand.
Looms aloft with leafy bough so softened by the show
Of ruffled, pinkish bottle brush amassing high and low.
Hordes of buzzing, bumble bees so clumsy in their way,
Tumbling from flower to flower collecting nectar’s day.
With afternoon the waning sun lies hot on sultry air
And little girls in pretty frocks skip by with not a care.
Summer grasses long and dry stand statuesque and straight
With sweet laburnum’s perfumed heads a nodding by the gate.
Young heifers graze in clover in the dell down by the brook
And the fantail dances daintily seeking insects in the nook
There’s a special, quiet majesty pervading here, so fair
With the thistledown afloat, so still with golden motes in air.
Fills my soul with gentle feeling and a rolling tear, unplanned,
For this blend of quiet ambivalence through my beauteous rural land.
Marshalg
“Foxglove” Taranaki.
NEW ZEALAND.
19 January 2014
Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 2:29 PM UTC
i like **** of all sizes
no matter the shape we always make compromises
they're all generally hidden behind brassiere disguises
embellishing decorations that cover up glamorous prizes
i always got milk on hand
secreted from those voluptuous mammary glands
some may say they feel like water balloon brands
silicone addition seems like an unnecessary plan
honey nut oats with those titttiiiesss!
Dec 30, 2018
Dec 30, 2018 at 6:44 PM UTC
*Autumn adorns the universe,
Into a transitional seasonal display,
Preparing for a whimsical change,
Upon evergreen trees, in rouge and ember shades.
Lavishly, shedding slowly,
Into a fusion of tones, leaving embellishing grounds,
Bearing naked branches,
As they casually toss down.
Stroking their leaves, and sending colorful hues,
Like a genuine piece of tapestry,
Beautifully interlacing,
And harvesting, 'neath the suns abundance of energy.*
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 2:01 AM UTC
In sick twisted fields of meadows laced with electricity
I deemed I was correct
justifying my day dreams
and nullifying my nightmares
but embellishing yours
creating a new idea of fear...
for you to have to beware
for i hardened your delicate structure
i froze your river bed
but with one kiss, a time fracture
I could bloom a rose red
with one touch, a light action
i could re-illustrate your head
painting pretty colors of forever
me and you fornever dead
because my first intentions
were to love
never meant i to harm
but just like poppy seeds and **** leaves
I have a higher charm
so in these electric fields of purple grass sparked
rest these thoughts of you and the danger that I brought...
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 12:50 PM UTC
A trinity of three styles one man no religion one morning over a lifetime
Temporary (we tat too)
Temporary love
has no precision definition
so if I say
love you forever,
as I do,
know know
just know
this particular
phrase
is temporary,
unique and forgivable
as temporary
as our permanent tattoo,
the one embellishing you,
the one marking me,
the two hearts tat
that means
we are a
tat two
If you begin a poem,
a love, a tat
with temporary,
usually, but not always,
you have already failed
See http://hellopoetry.com/poem/if-you-begin-a-poem-with-i/
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Invalidation
my living bones, twisted.
my words, slurred,
disfigured with a panache,
that makes the mirror
turn away, ashamed
invalid. in valid.
I have been invalidated,
I spit at your too late heroics,
unwanted.
I spit at myself,
for missing the moment,
when choice was mine
I would have self-destructed, freely,
reborn in an act of self-validation,
be my own living will,
if only I had not been enslaved to my
**********
Fear
invalidation, the Cain mark of every failed man
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bootyoir
three day weekend has commenced.
it's con-occlusion
now in rapid descent
mini-vacation, maxi-sensation.
the only question remaining,
present but debated,
as yet undecided,
whose turn is it
to answer
the doorbell,
when the delivery guy
brings our break~fast
for it is forbidden,
a transgress,
to egress
from the bootyoir,
except for the
call of nature,
and naturally,
I am calling
you,
comeback comeback
hungry time
it's time we
co-authored some
bootyoir poetry
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 7:58 AM UTC
such a small word
blending into the background
always making an appearance
but never recognized
so used
so beaten up
so lost among the swirling fog
such a simple concept
but as familiar to us as water
slowly trickling over our sentences
over our words
embellishing our writing without us even knowing
sometimes
i like to think
that we should become more aware
of the little things
of the tiny details
of the lowercase
in our lives
-k.l.
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 12:29 AM UTC
My favorite parts about myself
Are the metal rods
Protruding from my skin
My nose
My ears
The diamonds
They sparkle
How is it that I cherish
The things I added
The most
My favorite features are stitched in
Mounted to my skin
For I do not find much beauty
In myself
But my expression of me
Is slowly getting to
Where I need it to be
Decorating my skin
Embellishing myself
Soon I hope to have ink
Streaking my surface
On display
Shards of the inner me
Out where everyone can see
maybe one day
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 11:32 PM UTC
Can we talk about something real quick?
Do you remember what you did last night?
I do.
You remember that video you watched when ya girl went to sleep?
Yeah, I've done that too.
Although, in my case, at least I waited till she went to work.
If you say it can't be so, I'd be a big fat liar.
Women don't watch **** ,
I say the hell yes we do.
After-all it's so accessible, these desires of the flesh.
For the Women who have, know
you are not alone.
Yes, I have been there too.
My eyes forever tainted.
Next thing you know,
you start embellishing these images of the "perfect" man.
Guess what,
MR. "PERFECT" DOESN'T EXIST.
Fiction.
Face it, that muscle man eventually turns into an old man.
May 18, 2018
May 18, 2018 at 6:58 AM UTC
It's the beginning of an embellishing new season
Opulent and romantic, as the garden of Eden
In an array of lustful stricking palettes
Similarly, to a colorful painted canvas
In soft festive yellows, pinks, lilacs and blues
Truly an incredible view
With smooth light petals, as fresh as the air
Exceptional and beyond compare
Thriving in a distinctive pose, with elegance
Purity and gentleness
Defined into sensual silhouettes
Spontaneously, reflecting a fabulous vignette
Capturing, an alluring peaceful fragrance
Enlightening my presence
An enjoyable time of year
With countless memories, of you being here
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 2:21 PM UTC
Embellishing our
relationship
in the euphoria of our
artificial affections
spoil me;
until Reality straitens
my smile
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 9:06 PM UTC
If the sun lighten meadow,
were to fall to a land forsaken burrow
A shelter it once was, full of decadent greenery,
But, never it may be again the land of lavishing brewery
If the sun lighten stream,
would fade out into dim
Becomes a melancholic and forgotten drought,
An eye-sparkling land it was where all life would spread and sprout
The embellishing jade and lapis,
Deeply tainted to the faintest
By work of all demons alike,
The bright ruby can never be in our sight
Our treasures soon gone into abyss
Our jewels alive but shows no zest
Our land fainted and made
If only we kept out of the shade
-Sometimes sitting there in the shade will only diminish what you call light-
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 7:14 AM UTC
A fruitless vein
Ruptures the
plexus
Of society’s esophagus
Embellishing virtual
pleasure
Within browsers of
opinions
Innovations, ideas,
revolutions
Traded for
corruption and malice,
Paranoia on the rise,
Innocence ******
swallowed, and
spewed
Into the IP addresses
of democracy
Apr 27, 2012
Apr 27, 2012 at 6:29 AM UTC
The description of my affliction grasps the friction of a worthy depiction to my addiction in a position feeling the infliction of my minds worst prediction..
Unleashed skeletons distinguished in the flight of pelicans severing the embellishing of savored intelligence longing for sweet repentance revealing relief that goes the distance..
Searching for clarity that never ending morality my mind takes on high hilarity in the crushed arms of polarity assembling the modularity of my brain screws in chastity releasing all of the bottled-in charity of my restless audacity...
As all that's buried beneath takes turn within my rocky caverns that burn I release my tactiturn of the aches and pains the spurn I've been able to learn bounty of my earn comes to term as I yearn for freedom of silent concern if I can disinfect this germ like cleansing the embodiment of the smoked sherm I will be clear of the uncoiled fern slithering about as a pristine worm..
Deeply inside my head I've swum like the graceful swan in the pond that I come to grow fond classified the demimond upon no formed bond twisting my thoughts my top has spun uncontrollably making me dumb my darkest secrets tucked in the gun behind the chamber of obligated fun partaking of the glazeless bun that's so scrumptious to my tum tum I can never find riddance playing the war drum but if I fail now my utterance is done now if all coincide with my tone I may finally speak out and be gone...
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 3:21 PM UTC
Her sandal straps sat as thrones on her heels, embellishing the sand that clung close to her skin. Her smile seemed painted on by some distant relative of an old famous painter. And her hair it was a mixture of ocean and tears. Tangled in hopes and last chances.
Stubborn.
Never brushed, never tamed.
It was only then, sitting on that porch, tasting that sweetest lemonade, could she ever think about anything besides her summer.
Of course she could, but she never quite did. She was one of those loose cannons.
Unpredictable.
Then again why would anyone hate her for it? She was so new, so fun, so much potential for anything at all. She was wild and free.
Everyones first kiss and last dance were delicately braided into the gallery of bracelets strung on her arm.
Heartbreak and loneliness was etched in blues and blacks on her hands. Tattoos of worn adventure printed on her fingertips.
Her arms, so easy to fall into, so hard to let go of.
With every kiss she pulled you deeper into her world until you were drowning with affection. Affection for her, for you, for love
And you tried, you really did try writing her letters, telling her how much you missed her. But life got in the way. All good things come and go and she was here but now, now she is gone.
And perhaps one day you'll find her again. Old and frail like all great lovers end up you will laugh about how the two of you used to run barefoot on the streets of your city. How you would kiss her in the rain.
And perhaps then, she will love you.
Dec 24, 2012
Dec 24, 2012 at 12:24 PM UTC
Simplicity will make its rounds
As it always does when I'm missing you.
I can tell you're missing me in the way you glance
Quickly out of the corner of your eye
As I'm fiddling with my ink and paper.
We make rounds with one another
Alternating shifts between affection
And you watch me almost instinctively
Perched upon your over-sized sofa cover
Disguising all of my dresses you imagined as "the one"
Floral, striped, simple brown like parchment paper.
But you are stowing away patterns that remind you of summer past.
Only now it's spring and summer's not yet arrived
A fact that until today remained unknown to me.
But of course you'll be leaving soon
And I'll be wanting you
Even if so it was not enough, even more
In the nostalgia of unwritten details in the past.
They pattern themselves as soldiers awaiting deploy
Into some unknown battle with a sparkling eye
For they know not what love is;
They have only tasted it in envelope adhesive
And flittering longings of long-lashed exchanges
Of forward observations brought to attention
By none other than the golden-haired stable boy;
So they battle with a passion of longing instead.
They have traveled this road many times
And knowing what to expect, they
Delve forward despite disregards of the illumination
Of the embellishing light of Lady Moon
Upon the night to beckon their lustful eyes and bodies
To become one with their defenseless souls
Beneath the silvery threshold of her flowing *****
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 6:53 PM UTC
In my moment of sheer desperation,
I sold my soul to the devil.
All at once my life took a 180 degrees turn;
I won the 4D for RM10,000.00,
I got the writing job I’ve always wanted,
I found the man of my dreams,
My company landed a million dollar deal,
I was bubbling over, embellishing the happiness I have not felt before.
Then, one day the devil came to see me,
Payback time apparently,
He asked me if I would like to pay back all that he gave me or
Would I like to buy back my soul,
I told him I would be happy to buy back my soul.
In the devil’s world, payback is easy.
A soul for a soul, a life for a life.
So whose soul would I want to trade- in?
My soulmate…no too painful,
My dying cat…no cats don’t have souls
My ex …..mmmm perfect.
So that’s what I did that fateful night,
The devil came and I redeemed back my soul with the soul of the ex…
Since then, I am still embellishing in the happiness,
While someone, somewhere cries over the death of a dear one,
Oh wait a minute, she’s actually rejoicing…high insurance benefits!
And so it was, in my moment of sheer desperation,
When I sold my soul to the devil.
Jun 29, 2011
Jun 29, 2011 at 3:05 AM UTC
*Walls painted with mosses
Snails shifting lento
Towards their new house
Spreading fragrance
Of muddy scent
Waving gooseberry leaves
Begetting chilly breeze
Toppling plumeria flowers
Embellishing landscape
Creepers hugging trees
With craving squirm
Squirrels squealing secrets
Throughout branches
White butterflies fluttering
To kiss ravishing flowers
Lustrous sun getting ready
Fabricating exuberance
Awakening moody chums!*
Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 1:32 AM UTC