"enclosing" poems
Sometimes she walks through the village in her
little red dress
all absorbed in restraining herself,
and yet, despite herself, she seems to move
according to the rhythm of her life to come.
She runs a bit, hesitates, stops,
half-turns around...
and, all while dreaming, shakes her head
for or against.
Then she dances a few steps
that she invents and forgets,
no doubt finding out that life
moves on too fast.
It's not so much that she steps out
of the small body enclosing her,
but that all she carries in herself
frolics and ferments.
It's this dress that she'll remember
later in a sweet surrender;
when her whole life is full of risks,
the little red dress will always seem right.
Lord: it is time. The summer was immense.
Lay your shadow on the sundials
and let loose the wind in the fields.
Bid the last fruits to be full;
give them another two more southerly days,
press them to ripeness, and chase
the last sweetness into the heavy wine.
Whoever has no house now will not build one
anymore.
Whoever is alone now will remain so for a long
time,
will stay up, read, write long letters,
and wander the avenues, up and down,
restlessly, while the leaves are blowing.
13.4k
You don't see me in the night,
My ears pricked for every sound I hear
In the dark, like a stag poised for flight,
And my conscience seeing surgery,
Each sound a cut to my ear.
Guarding your thoughts with my warmth,
Enclosing you with my poised embrace
In the dark, barely breathing by your ear,
And waiting for night to end
Its careless gentle march
Before your breath must cease.
Staying up til morning to see you safe,
Knowing you won't see me standing over you
In the dark, fighting the sickness with my eye,
And hand gently stroking your hair
Until our fragile bodies fade
And your wishful dreams hold true.
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 9:17 PM UTC
Shivering beneath the merciless cold,
Yet I make no effort to seek warmth.
Why?
Does warmth even exist anymore?
Or is it just an echo, a distant ghost—
Faded, forgotten, unreal?
All that remains is the cold.
Icy blue flakes swirling, enclosing,
Sharp as daggers, carving deep,
Etching their mark upon my soul.
And there it lies—the velvet box,
Soft, unyielding, and cruelly still.
It holds my heart captive,
Safe, yes, but untouched—
A prisoner of its own silent frost.
-fir.m
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 8:39 PM UTC
The blazing eye of Dawn is all to fools:
those who see the joy
in Light expressed as Light,
but brightness also graces Night.
Her veil parted, the black curtain
giving way to shades of blue and gold,
Her rapturous embrace inspiring eyes beholden.
*Planted in Her garden, neighboring eaves
rustling in their trembling eagerness to share their leaves!*
For in Her realm eternal, flawless
clay of earth and blade of grass
stretch forth to feel the loving light
of their supernal Goddess!
Her joy ran rampant through my boughs,
my swaying branches spreading wide
to grasp the rays of her horizon --
*With love untainted as a child's, so boundless
as my selfless roots cried out to sing her praises soundless!*
No dalliance ever felt before complete
until this blessed revelation -
this, Her holy emanation, warmed my heart,
annulled my restless reason:
She was every mother: deepest love
in understanding all that came of Her,
enclosing us within the circular.
*She beckoned but a moment by Her brilliance; best,
lest I uprooted trunk and earth to shade Her manifest.*
Aug 4, 2011
Aug 4, 2011 at 5:14 PM UTC
hidden in the shadows
i sit
i wait
and i hope
with this small candle
i hold close to my chest
t you'll see it in the flashes of light.
the flashes that
almost blind you
to what is mistaken
for love,
happiness and
a happy way of life
but under the flaring colors,
the luring words
and seductive lips
sits the sad ones.
the ones who wish to extinguish
the small flame
we had so long ago,
the flame i so dearly
wish to roar
to grow
and to consume those who tear us apart
in its burning, enclosing embrace.
but it is but a mere
flicker in the shadows,
compared to the flashes of light
surrounding you in what i know
will be our end
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 9:53 PM UTC
Underwater light faceted
in the enormous aquamarine
set in bronzed stones.
A pale green mist lifts from the pool
follows the lantern lit pathways
back to the dark and shady places
edging to the olive grove
and the blackness
of the wych elms
and the limes
enclosing the garden
like impenetrable walls.
Here, on a very warm night
with a honeysuckle, jasmine breeze
heady, rich and almost liquid
You can stand on the sun-filled stones
stretch and hold
the heart-breaking sweetness
of the night.
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 11:04 AM UTC
Breeze bellows,
leaves echo in
quivering psithurism,
dithering like
unbroken smoke,
this approaching omen goads.
Dozing crows
slumbering in rows,
droves of locusts'
silenced drone,
almost comatose in repose;
nighttime overtones
choir of toads'
raspy croaks
answered by alto
of crickets' orchestral strokes.
Gust encroaches;
robed boughs
cloven open,
bring into
scope and focus
me juxtaposed,
suspended apropos.
Although motionless
and petrified in stone,
provoked by zephyr
coaxing to and fro;
swaying pendulous
and no longer frozen,
locus gently thrown.
Death rattle moan
evoked from throat,
reflex can't say no
to rigor rigidly posed,
final sigh in silence,
awoken vocal,
expelled and disposed.
Smote by
morose emotion,
gun loaded then exploded
by neurosis,
now bloated
necrosis decomposes
into gross ochre.
This trophy
and this ode
both an opus to
my inability to cope;
romanced i proposed,
eloped and betrothed to
my own
inappropriate composure.
Pocket full of posies
plucked when luck bestowed
and tears in a cup, a toast;
crying copiously,
tempest runneth overflowed,
eyes swollen and soaked.
Dipped my toes
in the coast
of this ocean's
amorphous folds,
gripped by undertow
holding control of my soul;
swiftly shipwrecked in
shallow shoal,
an old atoll.
On sandy floor,
water burrows roads;
digging, carving, roams
through unmarrowed
silica and sandstone
eroding into a cove.
A host for
opal geode trove,
enclosing a
technicolor rose,
from the depths
a glowing mosaic shone
Unopened lotus floats
on foam
of lapping waves,
a boat;
prone to no
grandiose notion
or motive,
adrift as wind stokes.
I suppose
this only shows
the total corrosion
into which I dove,
the only foes to oppose
are those of burdens, so
only weightless can I atone-
I must let go.
Mar 11, 2024
Mar 11, 2024 at 11:02 AM UTC
the darkness enclosing me,
as the light switch flipped.
walking blindly across the room,
feeling my way to the bed where,
you take my hand and finish guiding me,
next to your side.
the darkness still wraps about me,
as the switch flips,
and the path to the bedside hasn't changed;
but there's no outstretched fingers to grab onto,
to kidnap me from reality,
and guide me to my dreams.
Dec 25, 2012
Dec 25, 2012 at 11:34 PM UTC
My parents...
are immigrants
Yet, why is it I,
so strongly
reject
their once,
homeland?
...
Perhaps,
the cause
it rooted at
my dad's cynical
comments
and critics
...
Perhaps,
it's my own visits
stifling relatives
horrible traffic
definitely
less, comfortable
...
Maybe,
it's the rejection
of such a gripping
religion
when I myself,
am an atheist
...
Maybe it's
the stereotypes
Chaining me
enclosing me
irritating me
...
...
...
Whatever the case,
it's there
I can be whoever I want to be
what-blood-crap?
Go far back enough,
and we're all related
The only links I have,
are my visits
and influence
of my parents
who once lived there
...
It's not a bad place...
at all...
...
That's not the problem
...
Is there one even?
...
...
...
I,
can be
who
I want
to
be
Oct 9, 2018
Oct 9, 2018 at 4:04 PM UTC
these songs are dedicated to those hours late into the night; when the sky gravitates towards the end of the colour spectrum, in which the hues collide, to create an illusion as mesmerising as the look in her eyes when he smiles. because the way the notes grazed her ear drums, as they lift themselves hazily off of the sheet, is one way to describe how it feels when she hears his voice; his laugh encompassing her whole being, enclosing her in a tight embrace.
i sincerely apologise to all the songs i've ruined and stained with the ****** memory of you.
Mar 25, 2018
Mar 25, 2018 at 3:48 PM UTC
The sly smoke lingering upon the room
The door open, enclosing the broom
Calmly I sat, on my wooden chair
Reading the newspaper, under the sun's glare
Yet the phone soundly rang
A catchy tune it's speakers sang
In my mind, who could it be?
In the end of the line, a stranger greets me.
And such reveals the mists of mystery
He demands me to stay awake
This uncalled feeling of stressful misery
Is far worst than I could take
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 8:51 PM UTC
The tide rushes in
And fills my lungs with water,
Slapping the air right out of my chest.
For a brief moment the storm breaks
Giving me just enough time
To breathe deep and push the air
Barely hard enough
To bring me back ashore.
I am enough to control the waves.
A storms breaks out,
Flooding all around and
I am without a life vest,
Enclosing around me from every angle
I barely see an exit.
Soon enough it creeps to my chin
And I am forced to hold my breath.
I am not enough to control the storms.
I shout it as though
The vibrocity of my words
Dictate it's strength.
Ringing through every orifice in my body,
Straining my lungs till I taste the blood
And only a croak is left inside.
I am enough to command the sky.
I shout atop a mountain
As if it were an empty field.
Filling the wind with my fruitless whim,
Charming the skies to not leave me.
All done in vain and with no restraint
I barely pierce the space I stand.
I am not enough to bellow the wind.
Apr 3, 2017
Apr 3, 2017 at 12:05 AM UTC
What is the space between,
enclosing us in one
united person, yet
dividing each alone.
Frail bridges cross from eye
to eye, from flesh to flesh,
from word to word: the net
is gapped at every mesh,
and this each human knows:
however close our touch
or intimate our speech,
silences, spaces reach
most deep, and will not close.
2.8k
let us consider
declarations of independence
as remedies
for election ills..
democracy has been
deadened
by flows of money
reaching ego ends..
competing parties mirroring
yet exaggerating differences
knowing one and all
precious power is the prize..
independence
allows consciousness to
arise at last..
good then is found
in left and right
shadow enclosing both..
paradox rules oppositions
and detachment soothes
the din of boisterous claims..
new freedom
brings new strength..
money flows
lose direction when
feedback polls confuse..
and democracy then
may deliver promise
once again...
Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 5:35 PM UTC
You are the cold silent breeze
I am the wild windstorm
You are the gentle humming of the leaves
I am the startling blare of thunder
You are the first ray of sunshine after a downpour
I am the piercing lightning
You are the fleeting floating clouds of cotton
I am the cumulonimbus cloud brewing a monsoon
You are the smell before and after the rain
You are the calm before and after the storm
I am the chaos in between
Enclosing me in your peaceful clasp
Embrace me
Tighter
May 21, 2016
May 21, 2016 at 5:48 PM UTC
I refuse to participate
In this race
so corporate
Where nothing but competition rules
Where competitors
get thrown to hungry wolves
They call it survival of the fittest
And elimination
of the weakest
Competition they say breeds innovation
As if a creative soul
needs any confrontation!
They corrupt you with conviction
Of wealth, riches, fame and
instant gratification
They put a noose round your neck
With a cabin
enclosing your desk
You toil night and day
To keep
the wolves at bay
You die a little every day
Dreaming of things
to do your way
Only you can these fetters break
By doing what you love
Even if it is for a smaller cheque
In the extra time that you have
Gaze at the world
with wonder and awe
Go paint on a canvas, or weave a web of words
Or simply go watch
wild animals and birds
For when you finally go up for review
He will treat us all
with the same view
He
for sure
will ask
Did you laugh, did you cry
Did you
Your precious life enjoy?
I refuse to participate
In this race
so corporate
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 7:09 AM UTC
He told me we were hanging out with a group
but he came up to my door alone
said the others couldn’t make it.
I said okay and we went to the moonlight playground
as he poured ***** down my throat.
my body was urging the poison back out
as I cried. I ran and I sprinted
but the fence seemed enclosing
I was stuck in a nightmare all I had were the stars.
after that night I didn’t like stars as much.
alone I lay there in the wet brown grass
rain joining my teardrops I couldn’t see
I couldn’t scream. When I thought it was over
people started looking at me. they thought
I was the ***** and he just hit it and quit it.
Haunted by a vampire
draining truth down my throat
I lost all pieces of myself
offering my roaring willpower to him
the sweat of his touch infiltrates
my defenceless skin
but I didn’t scream
his ****** hands dragging as if I were *** on wheels.
and one day I will be oh-
so tall and with my gathered tears
i will build a water wall
nor paddle nor wind for I
will be flying
with a cast of all those with prisoner tongues marching behind me.
Sep 30, 2020
Sep 30, 2020 at 6:40 PM UTC
The view through the pink window
Blushes pink to satisfy
Employs soft focus the eye cares for
The pink forest aglow
Finds success, the sun shafting through
A vibrant shocking pink porthole
Shoots sharply to the forest floor
On closer inspection it is solid in form
Seemingly impenetrable
I put on my pink lenses
Pressing the pink circle that appears
It is nothing to the touch
Even so, it exists - pure pink
A fascination enclosing
I feel pink warmth
Jul 24, 2012
Jul 24, 2012 at 3:20 PM UTC
Inner peace or depression
The warmth that I feel filling my core
And rising to my cheeks and silent lips
Numb from the nonexistent words filling the air
The calm that surrounds the present loneliness
It hums
Soft and melodic
Filling the studio as the warmth of lone candles cast shadows on the walls
Windows closed
Enclosing my padded room
That no one can see beauty in
The lovely fall of an old soul
Floating in warm cream
Submerged in a colorful mind
Unseen through dark eyes
A stain glass portal into soft chaos
Apr 16, 2012
Apr 16, 2012 at 12:10 AM UTC
I've followed you
still eyes, years, captivated and lost,
all for you
glancing up to the glaicers in the sky
bloated, full and passing
asking
" Where are you going?"
rain is washing you away
I'm the runner
following you down inside the dirt
from which you grew
tempting in your branch hands
you wanted me
the slightest movement:
I'm yours
longing underneath my fingernails
heart stretched like a sail,
deep breaths push me forward
chasing you
inching
closer to you
but you started to tred the earth before I knew where it was you formed yourself
covered in ice
before you met your first early morning cigarette, dressed in baby blue sky
long before you reconsiled with absent nights and blood cells
or night walks envisioning a flame too hot to touch
and there I was,
past years, past knowingness of nights and days, staring at the face of the moon
you
one glance, one presence, one feeling
gravity
placing me ten thousand steps behind to love you
following your every direction
moving with winds that carried you all around
closing my eyes to dream your next step
hoping
it was torward me
but it wasn't
and here we are
another winter coming
and soon another passing
and all I've had to say all these cycles of seasons,
"I will love you"
and all you had was another footstep
another mark inside me
enclosing me
Nov 19, 2011
Nov 19, 2011 at 6:29 PM UTC
Sleep is magnificent
its powerful arms,
gripping us. holding us.
furtively. enclosing us.
in its vast embrace of solitude.
We were sleeping
regardless of the time, and the heat,
emanating from our bodies.
Our bodies, cramped onto a bed
with legs intertwined
and pillows everywhere and
blankets hiding our faces.
The serenity, the solidarity
amongst us.
To simply sleep.
Nothing more, nothing less
simply to lie in the embrace of the other
with eyes closed, but bodies closer.
Such is the power of sleep.
To bring two individuals together,
to bring two souls together.
Aligning their heart, their minds, their bodies
to love each other.
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 11:01 PM UTC
"I got down on my knees because he said I would
if I loved him.
And what did I know then?
when I first betrayed my body.
Sold it for a kiss and a smile,
thought to please at any cause,
left to fight for independence in the backseat of cars.
On stained leather interior dank with the smell of expectations
I traded integrity for security and called it love, leaving pieces of an empty shell falling behind my mother patting my head and saying
“What happened to that nice boy you were dating? ”.
Well, I pushed memories farther down
buried beneath piercing sunlight,
dreams my night would come to save
and prayed
scraping already skinned knees
while I cried myself to sleep.
So I bit the apple in confusion,
abandoned my innocence
beneath the tree of knowledge
and became as bitter as the fruit
I couldn’t refuse.
Time and again,
giving in,
giving up,
waiting,
always wanting something more than pick-up lines,
promising more than promiscuity,
clothing myself in false hopes,
enclosing my weariness in frail arms for years… Cars turning into bars with one lamp,
and piles of discarded clothing,
and I heard myself say “no” over and over.
But he didn’t hear me,
wouldn’t listen when he called me a ***** bringing me down and took the only innocence I had left.
And I was searching still for purity,
lurking in hidden corners,
hips swinging, lips pouting,
trading and shattered innocence
for bared and braised and offerings
I learned how to control
and three years of vengeance passed
while I was that woman despised.
Well, they begged for plastic perfection
found in the temptation inches from their faces and I could feel the longing,
the lies when they said “You’re so beautiful”
And it wasn’t enough
And so he loved music more than me,
loved work more than me,
loved money more than me,
loved her more than me.
And I loved him more than me.
And I gave in
to where I thought love hid;
to the times I thought it was real.
We give in to what men want,
we paint ourselves with what we think are the colors of the rainbow,
when we’re really cloaked in hips and lips,
the brutal realities that leave us grasping
tatters of the illusions of love and longing
and the shattered threads of innocence.
Until we wear our own colors
and part the curtains we draped over our mirrors in mourning
and look ourselves in and say
“With you I feel like Isis and I am beautiful”.
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 3:03 AM UTC
While others chant of gay Elysian scenes,
Of balmy zephyrs, and of flow’ry plains,
My song more happy speaks a greater name,
Feels higher motives and a nobler flame.
For thee, O R—, the muse attunes her strings,
And mounts sublime above inferior things.
I sing not now of green embow’ring woods,
I sing not now the daughters of the floods,
I sing not of the storms o’er ocean driv’n,
And how they howl’d along the waste of heav’n.
But I to R——- would paint the British shore,
And vast Atlantic, not untry’d before:
Thy life impair’d commands thee to arise,
Leave these bleak regions and inclement skies,
Where chilling winds return the winter past,
And nature shudders at the furious blast.
O thou stupendous, earth-enclosing main
Exert thy wonders to the world again!
If ere thy pow’r prolong’d the fleeting breath,
Turn’d back the shafts, and mock’d the gates of death,
If ere thine air dispens’d an healing pow’r,
Or snatch’d the victim from the fatal hour,
This equal case demands thine equal care,
And equal wonders may this patient share.
But unavailing, frantic is the dream
To hope thine aid without the aid of him
Who gave thee birth and taught thee where to flow,
And in thy waves his various blessings show.
May R—return to view his native shore
Replete with vigour not his own before,
Then shall we see with pleasure and surprise,
And own thy work, great Ruler of the skies!
1.9k
Edgar Allen settled evenings in the room at the rear
at a desk by the window where he could hear
breeze-rustled sycamore leaves sleeping
behind the neighbor’s house next door
through night’s florescent blue moon light,
its mist through low leaden clouds
he imagined the phantom he named Lenore,
and remembered lost Annabelle Lee
amore he'd left laid alone aside a blackened sea
hers, the voice of a tree speaking, hushed,
like distant waves rushed upon shore,
faintly whispering heart-secrets
the ardent couldn’t keep evermore
was it she who sighed with love’s breathless lips
to flicker the flame of a tortured oil lamp’s light
the words born laboring children
with pen put in service to cover past rent,
refill an empty flask of verdant absinthe
for a nine-dollar-half-column poem -
fodder for fickle romantics to tear over
before a performance of Bellini’s new Norma
hardened, our modern hearts
fattened on diets of swollen bellies
that belie the dour misery of starving
they’ve grown sclerotic and cynical,
hungry for suffering flavored substantial -
a greasy disaster to stain the paper wrapper
enclosing depths of the human condition
sophisticates, we dismissed puerile appetite
for honeyed songs of longing,
the ornamented confections of jealous angels
old drunken poets sang
until dark full comes, alone, and we’re small again
then shadows still speak to starry skies
and fairy tales may come alive
to suspend belief with secret dreams
of the dear, lost Annabelle Lee
Mar 13, 2011
Mar 13, 2011 at 12:59 PM UTC