Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"enjoined" poems
some of us walk insistently, instinctively, and instantly to and upon the edged path, this physical nexus & abstract mental locus, a cliffside enticing rock strewn trail, drawn of men, by men, for men (yes, men are people too, still) enthralling views, down to the riverside, where eyes intuit the beauteous aroma of precious precocious precarious precipices and the near-stench of mortality amidst wafting scents of inane undesirable need,   hints of destruction, or, alternating eager relief, like a ****** infused, instant attractiveness, making weakness in the knees, all too real, trembling with a delicious accented edge of a fresh, familiar scent, fresh baked bread, an all enveloping consumption need now! to crave what we fear, to fear what we crave our cravings are craven, this twisted sense, annuls our common sensibility, yet, titillates our pleasured imagined relief, releases, our unsated, even better, our insatiable curiosity to tremble, an entire body enjoined by vibrato~ enticing tremulations, shaken and stirred, this danger choice releases something primordial, escape? a reckless wrecking so deeply designed, it has its very own designation…death wish multitudes of easy choices afforded my senses, and by accident, all mine chosen, all nearby, I travel the esplanade près de the East River, where even if calm is the sole visiblilty, undercurrents and the unpredictable passage of container wakes and the larger freighters will hand you down, so easy, to become parcel to a littered river bottom of centuries’ artifacts but even more tempting, the balcony, a hop, skip and a jump unlocked, mere ten steps, no need for a running start why it’s the “height of convenience,” he ruefully winces, and not even any TSA lines or inconveniencing “conveniences” Why this calamity seems so desperately desirable, Why this unabrogated feat so featured, nay, even feted in our hot? cold? bloodstream “Why just men? *I don't know, Perhaps, it is all I know.*”
0
Dec 5, 2023
Dec 5, 2023 at 5:42 PM UTC
Men & Heights. (A Companion Piece to “Do You Know Why Men Cry in the Bathroom”)
some of us walk insistently, instinctively, and instantly to and upon the edged path, this physical nexus & abstract mental locus, a cliffside enticing rock strewn trail, drawn of men, by men, for men (yes, men are people too, still) enthralling views, down to the riverside, where eyes intuit the beauteous aroma of precious precocious precarious precipices and the near-stench of mortality amidst wafting scents of inane undesirable need,   hints of destruction, or, alternating eager relief, like a ****** infused, instant attractiveness, making weakness in the knees, all too real, trembling with a delicious accented edge of a fresh, familiar scent, fresh baked bread, an all enveloping consumption need now! to crave what we fear, to fear what we crave our cravings are craven, this twisted sense, annuls our common sensibility, yet, titillates our pleasured imagined relief, releases, our unsated, even better, our insatiable curiosity to tremble, an entire body enjoined by vibrato~ enticing tremulations, shaken and stirred, this danger choice releases something primordial, escape? a reckless wrecking so deeply designed, it has its very own designation…death wish multitudes of easy choices afforded my senses, and by accident, all mine chosen, all nearby, I travel the esplanade près de the East River, where even if calm is the sole visiblilty, undercurrents and the unpredictable passage of container wakes and the larger freighters will hand you down, so easy, to become parcel to a littered river bottom of centuries’ artifacts but even more tempting, the balcony, a hop, skip and a jump unlocked, mere ten steps, no need for a running start why it’s the “height of convenience,” he ruefully winces, and not even any TSA lines or inconveniencing “conveniences” Why this calamity seems so desperately desirable, Why this unabrogated feat so featured, nay, even feted in our hot? cold? bloodstream “Why just men? *I don't know, Perhaps, it is all I know.*”
Continue reading...
59
romantic callings spanish bayonet dagger plant adams needles jealously guarding with expansive labor a plant nurturing most startling to find new life from adjoining steps in unbroken broken ladder rocks then plants animals finally us dedicated partnership from evolution's mist simple pollen deliveries flower unto flower cells and eggs carefully enjoined in pistil cradle womb symbiosis of light awaiting birth of spring plant and animal mutually interrelating humble and most hidden might we extract insight for our time nurturing our awareness expanding sacred ladder one spiritual step recognizing now clearly ladder becoming whole guarding still nurturing welcoming spring light emulating and repeating a yucca mother's pattern stupendous birthing young yuccamoths her amazing our enlightening brood (with appreciation for genesis 2:15, and for advice from a real life yucca momma)
0
May 16, 2012
May 16, 2012 at 6:14 PM UTC
yucca spring
my wedding photo hints of some foul play of death, destruction lurking, looming 'round as four have cracked or burrowed under ground while two remain who yet have lived to stay for two by two the years have counted them           who've left this picture someone has condemned and neither they nor evil can be found from left to clockwise tragedy has struck this picture taken in 2004 a blissful wedding day with bliss in store has seen no bliss yet only jet black luck           for two years is the pattern found within as if installments paid for unknown sin and two by two the years have taken more 2006 my brother passed too soon at thirty this was not his time to go from one disease a cure does not yet know and from his loss we still are not immune as one by one his organs fell asleep until he too slipped through, we couldn't keep and he was just a prelude to this show 2008 my grandpa, ninety-five had lived a healthy, fruitful fulfilled life, outlived even his loving doting wife by eight years more the man remained alive for two years of his grandson was berieved whose name he often spoke of as he grieved an old man overwhelmed with burdened strife 2010 the blissful pair had split whose wedding day this picture to us bore after six years her joy had been no more explaining that my throne no longer fit for i'd become a burden to her cause and cut off, bleeding freely without gauze i cannot find the life i had before 2012 my father's heart had failed, in April he was saved but for a spell until in May his heart one last time fell despite all of our efforts as we railed and as it were, a grandson he'd not see a son of my wife's flesh enjoined to me now how this pattern plays i cannot tell the back row in the picture's marred complete the front row bears the two that now remain this pattern of two years i can't explain but if continues more will see defeat the clockwise movement left to right is done now right to left the foreground move will run 2014 promises new stain the next in line, my mother in two years and two years after her my aunt is left then i will be of everyone bereft an orphan, fate fulfilling all my fears by this 2016 none may laugh but one, this silent chilling photograph completing all my family's great theft (C)2012, Christos Rigakos
0
Sep 24, 2012
Sep 24, 2012 at 2:10 PM UTC
The Wedding Photo
my wedding photo hints of some foul play of death, destruction lurking, looming 'round as four have cracked or burrowed under ground while two remain who yet have lived to stay for two by two the years have counted them           who've left this picture someone has condemned and neither they nor evil can be found from left to clockwise tragedy has struck this picture taken in 2004 a blissful wedding day with bliss in store has seen no bliss yet only jet black luck           for two years is the pattern found within as if installments paid for unknown sin and two by two the years have taken more 2006 my brother passed too soon at thirty this was not his time to go from one disease a cure does not yet know and from his loss we still are not immune as one by one his organs fell asleep until he too slipped through, we couldn't keep and he was just a prelude to this show 2008 my grandpa, ninety-five had lived a healthy, fruitful fulfilled life, outlived even his loving doting wife by eight years more the man remained alive for two years of his grandson was berieved whose name he often spoke of as he grieved an old man overwhelmed with burdened strife 2010 the blissful pair had split whose wedding day this picture to us bore after six years her joy had been no more explaining that my throne no longer fit for i'd become a burden to her cause and cut off, bleeding freely without gauze i cannot find the life i had before 2012 my father's heart had failed, in April he was saved but for a spell until in May his heart one last time fell despite all of our efforts as we railed and as it were, a grandson he'd not see a son of my wife's flesh enjoined to me now how this pattern plays i cannot tell the back row in the picture's marred complete the front row bears the two that now remain this pattern of two years i can't explain but if continues more will see defeat the clockwise movement left to right is done now right to left the foreground move will run 2014 promises new stain the next in line, my mother in two years and two years after her my aunt is left then i will be of everyone bereft an orphan, fate fulfilling all my fears by this 2016 none may laugh but one, this silent chilling photograph completing all my family's great theft (C)2012, Christos Rigakos
Continue reading...
57
Sorry your flowers are late I purchased them each one and the color was representing the many individual friends a delightful blue Iris was no other than S.P. when dark shadows gather as they sometimes do she is the bluing of Beautiful contrast this rich blue spreads from point of origin to the eye engulfing all visible ranges a Small but great blue lifts the very shadows up until the sun vanquishes them by golden light then the red Hues embolden of richness many times it is spent but never squandered and its riches never diminish or Disappear in friendships ever rewarding garment he endures R.P. Violet this friend this light was Adorned in grave clothes to join her loved ones of all generations but her influence warmth and the Kindness that cannot die lingers it wafts across fields it passes through airy open window you smile Unknowingly because she is by your side and not ever more so than your birthday precious one her Initials are N.V. yellow so rich it blushes the wind this shear fabric so light it waves as pure silk you were Given this gift early in life its folds hold so much treasured moments grasses trees houses playful side Walks a stream of memories that bind you in the same vase others have beheld your combined beauty Of thought and action I.M… The green of a soldier is enjoined by the mist it drifts it has patterns truth And faith walks within this creature that has stature her face calls the night bugler all is dispensed Within her voice is the kindest authority to all duty is understood in its deepest meaning G.H.E. then we Come to multicolored piece of finest art true this grandness walks by your side and more so in your Heart vestures sown with silver in glowing gold if an ever the hair turn to silver the cold black of youth Will tower into all sunsets and grand children will always bring rays of joy and laughter happy belated birthday Roberta
0
Sep 2, 2012
Sep 2, 2012 at 1:07 PM UTC
Sorry your flowers are late
Sorry your flowers are late I purchased them each one and the color was representing the many individual friends a delightful blue Iris was no other than S.P. when dark shadows gather as they sometimes do she is the bluing of Beautiful contrast this rich blue spreads from point of origin to the eye engulfing all visible ranges a Small but great blue lifts the very shadows up until the sun vanquishes them by golden light then the red Hues embolden of richness many times it is spent but never squandered and its riches never diminish or Disappear in friendships ever rewarding garment he endures R.P. Violet this friend this light was Adorned in grave clothes to join her loved ones of all generations but her influence warmth and the Kindness that cannot die lingers it wafts across fields it passes through airy open window you smile Unknowingly because she is by your side and not ever more so than your birthday precious one her Initials are N.V. yellow so rich it blushes the wind this shear fabric so light it waves as pure silk you were Given this gift early in life its folds hold so much treasured moments grasses trees houses playful side Walks a stream of memories that bind you in the same vase others have beheld your combined beauty Of thought and action I.M… The green of a soldier is enjoined by the mist it drifts it has patterns truth And faith walks within this creature that has stature her face calls the night bugler all is dispensed Within her voice is the kindest authority to all duty is understood in its deepest meaning G.H.E. then we Come to multicolored piece of finest art true this grandness walks by your side and more so in your Heart vestures sown with silver in glowing gold if an ever the hair turn to silver the cold black of youth Will tower into all sunsets and grand children will always bring rays of joy and laughter happy belated birthday Roberta
Continue reading...
20
When my wife’s great Aunt ‘Dora died We received a strange bequest. Not land or Gold or Mallomars Just an ornate box, covered in dust. Her will strictly enjoined us from opening the box. The sides had cryptic puzzles That served it as strong locks The box was rather gaudy Carved from finest sandalwood Inlaid with golden letters a Greek would have understood. We both took very seriously The task to guard this prize To keep this family heirloom preserved from prying eyes.. Ten years it stood there in our room An enigmatic guest And often I would ponder it while I was getting dressed. Until one dark December day In the Millennial year Curiosity overcame my wife And she succumbed, I fear. My Darling, being curious, Solved the riddles on the side She was just prying up the lid As I ran inside.. A disembodied Banshee screamed The air was thick and red. I rushed to close the box back up in existential dread. Still, the world seemed little changed As I sequestered hope. The radio said by 5-4 George Bush had won the vote I think on all that’s happened since As things have gone to Hell ****** wars in foreign lands Discord at home as well. Since then twin towers crashed and burned And Wall Street did the same Do you think it could be possible Aunt Pandora’s Box shares blame?
0
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 3:11 PM UTC
Aunt Dora's Box
I’m unevenly placed, skewed, Strewn as if across a battlefield of green arching upwards Into a firmament no kinder than the dirt below. Glory; glory, triumph, and victory Gallop through the head of the sweat-glossed, sandal-clad With the fervor of an enjoined nation Working As One. What can be defined as the perfect cause? What can be defined as just too much loss? Nothing, no one, withstands the majesty Of a waving, battle-torn flag, resting upon The crest of a hill with grace gracing Every Single Rip. I can glaze over the different shades of red That permeate the legacy we will all Come to know as legend, as the workings of but A tale, in some lands. Yet I know the secret, the wish Hidden behind the untouched folds, the proud wishes Between each enjoined thread, the ideals of a Solitary people who with me, wish for a better World For All. One can only hope We will be remembered.
0
Jan 13, 2017
Jan 13, 2017 at 8:58 AM UTC
Gladiolus
Once upon a time, The night of rendezvous with him Went like the scent of daisies everliving. Eyes... Selectively rising to meet mine Wearing meek and hesitant makeup Concealing the flushed feelings Towards one another. Lips... Enjoined to avoid bursts Of cackles loving the latter's Oblivion Dissembling yet verifiable Between us. Alas, 'eternity' shall never persist For this remains a pipe dream Shackles of his indifferent family His aura bipolar to mine Alas. Carpe Diem A sole motivator Diminishing the mirage of hopelessness Flourishing his debonair charms Spell bounded and cherished Today. The End Far afield The Story Began to see daylight
0
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 1:55 PM UTC
Debonair
. Cloud covers the sky, Flashes shimmer through, Golden rims surrounding blue. Your breath was lighted language I could hardly breathe, nil airs, The earth was smothered on highs, My only breaths broke out into sighs. Our breaths enjoined us once unto sun For you, my deathly lad took all, I look into wee, empty, cold heavens, See shout out names of babes forsaken. In heaven is a moon taking breaths away
0
Sep 5, 2016
Sep 5, 2016 at 11:01 AM UTC
Breath Spells
Tied as if woven: an intricate lacing. One thread no more than the other. Separate, each a single strand. Enjoined, a strong tapestry of infinite beauty. Its texture rich, its hues brilliant; Simplicity in its grace. Try to explain.... ...it unravels. Never one easy thread.
0
Sep 22, 2013
Sep 22, 2013 at 2:56 AM UTC
Tapestry
So enjoined, Across from me, Two lovers, recent college graduates, seeking first career employment, Conjoined, before interest, One hundred and eighteen thousand dollars of student loan debt, One twenty-nine year old Honda Holding all their stuff On a side street where we eat I picking up the check, pray, "God help them, God help our nation."
0
Feb 4, 2012
Feb 4, 2012 at 12:39 AM UTC
God help our nation
The walls codify what the white-peaked vista peeping out over teal seas, allowed to pasture-- somebody's transient, blooming, ranging thoughts. A heart leaping, often imperceptible, both of the world and of us,-- we need to pen the loved. So our wants, they are already turning to concrete. A path sprouts up from where you plant one foot, lightly, on the green, ever-reaching growth of plants, white cities climb outward, a garden of footsteps from where the hill drank the sea and enjoined that meeting with a rose, a temple. Desire must be willing to want its own outcome, death. We met on the ramparts of the new city of which whole lives are built up to find. And now? There are no ladders from top to bottom. The sun just setting is just the same as a wild poppy, hanging in the green whose outcrop already is beginning to disassemble this stronghold back into hill and sea.
0
Apr 22, 2012
Apr 22, 2012 at 1:17 PM UTC
Hill and Sea
Vibrating Words In our speaking and hearing words akin to solid things oftentimes standing alone.. the weight of many nouns fills our logic and comfort our progress and pain until now..? new times demand enjoined conversations.. resonances which reach to levels obscure.. processes and verbs waking sleeping nouns.. each word an experience simple vibration or nothing at all...?
0
Jan 8, 2013
Jan 8, 2013 at 11:15 AM UTC
Vibrating Words
Brushing past you on the floor, glancing quickly to see you smile your eyes light up as do mine. When I think of us as we drank from each other's eyes. Our mouths enjoined straining, as we dwell in desire. Distraught happiness. Pained pleasures as we drown, slowly, in one another.
0
Apr 2, 2010
Apr 2, 2010 at 4:30 AM UTC
Longing
two souls enjoined by God become one flesh, no more are they a husband and a wife, one body, all its capillaries meshed, one heart, two lungs, one breath, one beating life, oh, we are interwoven, every thread, like lovers' fingers interlocked in time, as slowly flesh cleaves unto flesh in bed, we are but one alone, not yours, not mine, though when from me you tear yourself away, our tapestry becomes unraveled, cringe! how is it you are whole still, as you say, while I remain a curled and tattered fringe? our love once fragranced every single breath, now torn, it seems alone I bleed to death (C)2010, Christos Rigakos
0
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 10:39 PM UTC
Torn Tapestry
In a night so black as ash, fingers of white marble climb up in circles along the edge of the bed. The legs do not only carry body, but also silver sparks of light where hands are touching skin and where the dark is enjoined to a second place. Life will find new forms here - Castings pain, sorrow. But also a joy - molded in the color of copper - is slowly getting contour.
0
Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 9:40 AM UTC
love
love was the heart loud pounding in the ears, and beating out the chest, it longed to be enjoined unto another many years, and these, the only things, it craved to see: the goodness in one's heart, the gentle eyes, a kindness radiating from one's soul, a charity unspoken, undisguised, it sought to join with such, becoming whole, today love seeks the guile which one could say, the suits of status, trinkets sparkling bright, the methods of the wealthy plied by day, virility cold practiced in the night, oh, love, which once probed oceans wide and deep, you've run aground upon a shallow reef (C)2012, Christos Rigakos
0
May 4, 2012
May 4, 2012 at 10:14 AM UTC
love was the heart loud pounding in the ears
Our bodies sway to the music, twirling, sliding, hopping, on the slick wooden floor. Our hands clasped together, in this melody, our feet draws intricate patterns, as beautiful as the galaxies in the expanse of the cosmos, on the slick wooden floor. Our hearts beat faster, and faster, blood rushing in our veins, our breath mists as we feel our energies ebb away. Our bodies exposed to each other, caressing, holding, each fingertips, embedded on our heated skin. Our bodies touching, our hips swaying to the music as we dance on the slick wooden floor. Our sweat drops, our clothes crumpling, as we dance along on the slick wooden floor. Our senses tingles, becoming sensitive, to each other; each touch, each whispers, each exhalation, everything within us, are enjoined. We move in sync with the tempo of the music, on the slick wooden floor. The exhilaration of this dance, will forever be remembered.
0
Dec 20, 2015
Dec 20, 2015 at 11:05 AM UTC
Of Dance and Music
This love, I have this love that was never suppose to be mine, it was suppose to be a treat to myself when i needed it time to time. But instead it turned into a jones and i needed my fix. You were not my regular cup of tea bt it was coo cause the the slower i sipped, the more i enjoined the taste. See how you got me hooked. That one night, turned into another and then it turned into days. You see this love, that was never suppose to be mine, turned into something that i thought was gonna be a waste of time. But alittle faith and a little effort goes a long way. You see now you are my everything, i do, i never thought would cross my lips. You see this love is real and its forever mine, if you know what i mean can i get a clap one time
0
Jun 5, 2016
Jun 5, 2016 at 1:29 AM UTC
This love
Come into the presence or company of ~ ..DAVAO LATE MADAME "DOLLY " OF GENSAN N RD PAWNSHOP HAVING A GREAT ADVICE EXPAT OF BRITAIN "WILLIAM WALLACE! NOTREDAME WRITERS! KOREAN MENTORS WITH A PHRASES " MANG-MANG" ENJOINED WITH GREATER COURSE AM, ALWAYS BE ME! FREEDOM IS SERVICE, SO~ THUS FAITH!
0
Dec 20, 2023
Dec 20, 2023 at 11:47 AM UTC
WHAT I HAVE MEET ALONG THE WAY!
Domino’s as their fingers, the numbers eating from the menu, squares and rounds enjoined but not sequential In the Jazzy Cat Café (tail curled in my mouth) You weren't there The sun had dried all the tomato’s, I was calling you unanswered missing the rythmn of your character, and how you reached me with each impulsive smile remembering earlier how... we’d climbed eleven steps to your apartment, and entered not really sure of where to next... In another room; (wooden floored) was stored a blackboard menu, a hostess said her welcome in the way that Sultans sometimes spin I asked for panini without the mayo the waiter stirred the perrier the singer sang without destination and implied no journey I heard her song and watched her lips missing     all the ways that you might sing MChallis © 2015
0
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 6:21 AM UTC
In the Jazzy Cat
three years and the wild severed her heart from mine— and she told me that “the air had the brittle scent of October” dreams parallel dreams in the shortest of hours; we listened together for the advent of rain, for the unfurling of flowers. time and time lost held the fragility of her eyes; now woven, now frayed, her caress wondered of the fabric that holds the current of the world…of the crisp delicacy of tomorrow. “love is held only by the greyest of skies” softly i replied, for i knew that three years and the wild had enjoined her heart to mine.
0
Jan 3, 2018
Jan 3, 2018 at 3:05 AM UTC
“the air had the brittle scent of October”
Oh, what is love if not but what it seems, The chain that binds two hearts throughout the year, And not merely a latch to hitch one's dreams, Unhitching when the dreams no more seem near? And what's a lover but a partner-soul, Enjoined to share just one earthly abode? Where one departs, it leaves an aching hole, To which the other sings their bitter ode. Yet often love's a means to reach one's end, The other finds their love is not a wheel, But merely woven fabric quick to rend, When profit will not gain one's business deal. Commitment is a promise carved in stone, That lasts until the flesh departs from bone. (C)2014, Christos Rigakos
0
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 11:55 PM UTC
Oh, what is love if not but what it seems
Shall we all stand idly by as our country erodes watching day to day as our freedom wanes and our precious republic fades to nothing? Have none the courage or foresight to care or fight? Shall we sit back in idle content as shackles are slowly forged around our ankles? I say not!  I say that this thing that we have, this unique experiment called freedom, is too great a thing to perish. We are a nation of kings; Every man born to rule what he can. We, America, took the sovereignty of the monarchs and then set their crowns upon the head of every citizen. Shall we now give that crown back? Shall we cede the freedom paid for in the blood of our ancestors? I say not! I say let the battle be enjoined! Let the forces that work against us, against freedom and liberty, meet us on those bloodstained fields of freedom; For we will fight and in this fight prevail. Let us march towards those fields now, with honor for the  many who  have fallen there before us. Let us take this sacred duty, the protection of the freedom of all men, and march toward our destiny. We are all the new sons of liberty.
0
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 4:40 PM UTC
New sons of liberty
By: Cedric McClester I don’t want to be The devil’s advocate But Carly Forina In the aggregate Looks like a demon And better yet She’d be a president We’d live to regret Donald Trump Might have made a case When he enjoined us To look at that face Who would elect her And in any case Her Hewlet Packard tenure Was a disgrace Anyone can provoke Massive layoffs Like a non-contender For the playoffs She says she’s a savior Former employees scoff It’s campaign rhetoric She should knock off I’ll give it to her She’s very well spoken But a business genius She’s got to be joking Which prompts me to ask What has she been smoking By the end of the race She’ll clearly be broken Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2015. All rights reserved.
0
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 1:37 PM UTC
THE DEVIL’S ADVOCATE
you get the picture: a picturesque fashion house analogy - the analogue cue the sole identifier alleviation off analysis with duo both character-and-narrator, the analogue, the supposed it, third party agglomerates - to breed an analogue is half the fathom rekindled to a pursuit; nearing comparison is hardly a comparison at all. what love is given is what love is governed, all other love is a papier mâché - for each twist and every turn, a hum makes trebling feel a resonate to encounter an arcane trill, and via the Halloween analogue en-masked thrill a devil's curb to mind that the 20th american century was a foetus of serial killers to plagiarise a recurrence of death accompanied with their un-fulfilment; most of 20th century culture was born from american's outer reaching uttermost frontier without a game of indians and cowboys, and hey-halo-dimmed-asking  the boys enjoined for a skeleton alphabet - clavicle through to vertebrae.
0
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 8:57 PM UTC
browned nosed feminism