"faintly" poems
#*O morning sky of endless blue
Tinged with purply-pinky hue
You tell me of His mercies new
Whose heart pursues my own
O geese in wingèd winter's flight
Your honking cries arouse delight
And lift my gaze to seek thy sight
As wooing from His hand
O softest breeze which skims my face
And stirs with such mysterious grace
My soul to reach for Love’s embrace
You brush me with His kiss
O snowflakes falling to the ground
You pierce my heart without a sound
To crave a purity only found
Beneath a bloodied cross
O setting sun in half-light glowing
Waning day’s last glorious blush showing
You paint with fire my spirit’s own knowing—
This life is fading fast
O stars of midnight’s blackest sky
Paraded forth, you pull my eye
Toward One Who speaks this ceaseless cry:
“I’m coming back for you.”
O creeping fog to dawn’s light clinging
You whisper, Love’s veiled message bringing,
With haunting echoes faintly singing,
“Lose all of you in Him.”*#
Dec 7, 2016
Dec 7, 2016 at 10:09 AM UTC
MOMENTS OF MOMENTS
LONGING FOR HIS TOUCH
CLOSENESS OF OUR BODIES
FEELINGS WE HUNGER FOR SO MUCH
WHISPERS OF A BREEZE
TICKLING SIDE OF MY EAR
SENSATION RISES MY CHEST BUMPS
WITH FEELING OF WANTING HIM MORE
AS WE START TO PLAY
HE GUIDES ME IN A WAY
WHERE HE LAYS HIS LIPS ONTO MINE
AND THE PLEASURE IS RECITED ALL DAY
FINGERS TRACE THE LINES
OF BLACK SILK ON MY SKIN
SLOWLY HE PULLS THEM DOWN
WITH A RISE OF EXCITEMENT STIRRING DEEP WITHIN
I STAND THERE COMPLETELY BARE
PEAKS AT A RISE
THE WAY THAT HE KISSES ME
AS I STARE INTO HIS EYES
VULNERABLE AND EXPRESSED
THE WAY HE LOOKS AT ME
I START TO FEEL COMPLETE
BECAUSE HE SAYS TO ME
“YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL MY LOVE”
“I COULD STARE AT YOU ALL DAY”
“NEVER COVER UP”
“AND NEVER BE ASHAMED”
WITH YOUR HANDS INTO MINE
RIGHT WHERE THEY BELONG
PRESSED UP BESIDE ME
FEEL OF HIS ARMS SO STRONG
OUR BODYS GLIDE TOGETHER
I CAN’T EVER GET ENOUGH
MOVEMENT FROM HIS CENTER
GIVING IT TO ME NICE AND ROUGH
ACTIONS FROM OUR MOVEMENTS
EXPLANATION NOT IN NEED
MOTIONS FROM OUR FANTASIES
I’M BEGGING TO BE FREED
THE GLIDE OF HIS PASSION
EXPRESSED TO ME EVERYTHING
LEAVES ME FEELING FAINTLY EMPTY
SO SATISFIED AND DRAINED
THE TENDER KISSES HE PLACES
ON THE SKIN BETWEEN MY THIGHS
TRACING OF HIS FINGERS
STROKING IN AND OUT OF MY INSIDES
AMAZING ELECTRIC WAVES
AS I CONTINUE TO BEG FOR MORE
WRAPPED IN HIS ARMS
MY BODY EXHAUSTED, PAINFULLY WORE
THE SHADOWS OF OUR BEINGS
GIVES THE WALLS A LITTLE SHOW
WITH THE PASSIONATE MOTIONS WE DEMONSTRATE
IN A RHYTHM WE ALL KNOW
-BY JENNIFER WOLFE
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 12:09 AM UTC
Turn the corner
Hand tenses
Looking down the iron sights I see an object fall
"Tango down" I call over the radio
what was his name? Tango, Threat, Terrorist, doesn't matter.
Explosion
Mud brick wall vaporized into dust
Keep going
Out of breathe
Keep going
Hand tenses
"Tango down"
Does it have kids? A Family? Threat eliminated
Round the corner
Hand tenses
"Three tangos on west building roof top"
Bullets from my brothers **** by my helmet
Return fire
"Take Cover!"
Sweat drenched face fogs up my goggles
Explosion
Brick pieces pummel my back
Ears ringing, faintly hearing
"Alpha down, Medic!"
Blurred vision, equilibrium thrown off
Raise my rifle
Hand tenses
Silhouette falls
"Medic!" heard faintly
Hand tenses
"Are you okay?" sounds distant
Hand tenses
"babe?" getting louder
Hand tenses
Hand tenses
Wake up
Sheets heavy with sweat
"Babe, are you ok?"
Throwing the blankets I jump back to the edge of the bed
Her frightened face
I've seen before
I look down
Hands tense
Same look, no tangos
No threats
Just Ghosts
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 12:01 AM UTC
raindrops faintly laughing as they prance
along the leaves
watercress dancing gently twirling slowly
in the creek
a deer’s neck softly brushing like a whisper
against a tree
the sun is rising in the forest with hushed tones
of red on green
a brusk barista whose soul is wounded wants to cry
but bravely greets
the first blush of sweet dawn's morning ignites resplendent
things unseen
©2016janetaylor
May 10, 2016
May 10, 2016 at 6:52 PM UTC
Take for example this:
if to the colour of midnight
to a more than darkness(which
is myself and Paris and all
things)the bright
rain
occurs deeply,beautifully
and i(being at a window
in this midnight)
for no reason feel
deeply completely conscious of the rain or rather
Somebody who uses roofs and streets skilfully to make a
possible and beautiful sound:
if a(perhaps)clock strikes,in the alive
coolness,very faintly and
finally through altogether delicate gestures of rain
a colour comes,which is morning,O do not wonder that
(just at the edge of day)i surely
make a millionth poem which will not wholly
miss you;or if i certainly create,lady,
one of the thousand selves who are your smile.
16.1k
ladies and gentlemen this little girl
with the good teeth and small important *******
(is it the Frolic or the Century whirl?
ones memory indignantly protests)
this little dancer with the tightened eyes
crisp ogling shoulders and the ripe quite too
large lips always clenched faintly,wishes you
with all her fragile might to not surmise
she dreamed one afternoon
….or maybe read?
of time a when the beautiful most of her
(this here and This, do you get me?)
will maybe dance and maybe sing and be
absitively posolutely dead,
like Coney Island in winter
15k
An orange sun shimmering with heat
Blankets its cloud all over our heads
Your eyes fill with wonder and stars
Gazing at the trees unevenly spread
We talk of fantasies and breathless sighs
And romance we have never known
While all the butterflies vibrate with ecstasy
And the sky, into our heads, is sewn
Little crystals melt on our tongues
Honey dripped bees infect our sights
Faintly, on the other side of the desert
Our threat awaits, patient as night
Orange sun begins to paint the world
As leaves fall like words murmured
Buzzing hummingbirds cry out in alarm
And the edge of our vision is blurred
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 1:54 AM UTC
A - the atrocity that my life has become
D - the damage, and still, im not done
D - the denial, the doom in the vile, dangerous, daunting; forever defile
I - the image I fake of myself, I- my constant &chronic; bad health.
C- the cost of a chemical wealth.
T for the tension, paranoia and fear. Yet it’s the letter that symbols it’s here.
I - irrational, insensible, intense. I - irresistible iridescence .
O- for the option that I didn’t take, O for the others that still I forsake.
And N for nervous. Nauseous. Night. N, the neophyte, turned narcissist knight.
Transparent to everyone, how its hold is too true
So clear its invisible, Addiction did coo:
“when you wake and feel my crave,
and all my charms different behave;
resistance, strength, pain & choice,
may mute my spell, quiet my voice.”
“embrace what little light is shed” suggested addiction, faintly he said:
“For I can **** the best man dead,
with only shadows in their head.”
Apr 9, 2017
Apr 9, 2017 at 1:01 AM UTC
soon i will f a d e
like a photograph
left upon the windowsill,
and you will wipe away
my name from your lips
my laughter will become
a faintly familiar echo
in the hollows of your memory,
and unlike your thriving soul,
i will be fixed in a state of affliction
by the absence of your tenderness
yes, the fire in your heart
that once burned brightly for me
is growing dimmer by the hour,
however, you shall remain with me
e v e r m o r e
Jun 28, 2013
Jun 28, 2013 at 3:07 PM UTC
Growing up is like driving down a curvy dirt road.
Sometimes you get a flat tire and have to stop.
We always take a step back and remember its not the end of the world.
Life is like homework. We try to erase the mistakes but it’s always faintly there.
Sometimes you lose important papers, it fills us with regret.
We all need to start over sometimes.
Finding love is like looking for a pin in a pitch black room.
Sometimes we think we have it, only to realize it’s not there.
We will always keep looking, even when we feel like giving up.
Dreaming is like getting a present.
Sometimes it can be perfect, others can be disappointing.
We all have that hope that maybe someday it will come true.
MES
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 7:24 PM UTC
*O morning sky of endless blue
Tinged with purply-pinky hue
You tell me of His mercies new
Whose heart pursues my own
O geese in wingèd winter's flight
Your honking cries arouse delight
And lift my gaze to seek thy sight
As wooing from His hand
O softest breeze which skims my face
And stirs with such mysterious grace
My soul to reach for Love’s embrace
You brush me with His kiss
O snowflakes falling to the ground
You pierce my heart without a sound
To crave a purity only found
Beneath a bloodied cross
O setting sun in half-light glowing
Waning day’s last glorious blush showing
You paint with fire my spirit’s own knowing—
This life is fading fast
O stars of midnight’s blackest sky
Paraded forth, you pull my eye
Toward One Who speaks this ceaseless cry:
“I’m coming back for you.”
O creeping fog to dawn’s light clinging
You whisper, Love’s veiled message bringing,
With haunting echoes faintly singing,
“Lose all of you in Him.”*
Nov 21, 2015
Nov 21, 2015 at 1:11 PM UTC
it seems came her
adrift on mellow breezes
faintly scent o' strawberries
red dawn golden lashes in rhythms
upon a meadow painted by
Emerson words and Van Gogh splashes
so lightly afoot
so not to spoil any of nature
listening
relaying
being
her.
Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 6:47 AM UTC
And now the future is palpable,
And I can almost just barely taste it
On my lips
Just like the chapstick
I applied 15 minutes ago.
The future is in my range
And I can just barely smell it
Just like the perfume I applied this morning.
I can smell it faintly, when I notice it
But times the smell disappears,
As I get used to it;
only to be reminded of it
When I receive a hug of congratulations
And my friend will say, "You smell nice".
And in that moment I sniff my sleeve to try and smell myself
And get frustrated when my chapped lips feel rough against the texture of my shirt.
So I reach into my pocket, and struggle to find a small skinny tube,
I grasp it in my fingers and apply it to my lips
Afterwards licking them,
Smiling,
Because I can taste the future once again.
Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 5:38 PM UTC
here's to a package of
Marlboro Reds
in the hands of
someone other than
the Marlboro Man
standing in
for those slack-jawed outlaws
my heroes now lack jaws
tongues
lungs
I swear it's been too long
since I inhaled manhood
The Great Darrell Winfield
rolled
packed
and filtered
into the only thing I know
that makes a man a man
the essence of
cowboy boots and farmer's tan
in every drag
see, I inhale my heroes
all the dusty red-necked
cowboys
Darrell Winfield
and my dad
men whose lives
went up in smoke
to coat my throat
in my own self-righteousness
I'm frightened this
is all that I'll have left
of him
lung cancer
and the lingering stench
of cigarettes
he always smelled
of cigarettes
he'd pull me into these
firm embraces
he held so long
that he'd suffocate me
in tacky business
and cigarette smoke
masked only
faintly
by a poor man's
cologne
still I breathed him in
until I'd start to choke
it was too much man to handle
my grandpa told me
“smoking doesn't send you
straight to Hell,
but it sure does make you smell
like you've already been there”
he was
a grown man
cursing
crying
lying
dying by himself
trying to drown out the inferno
with a case of beer
but sobriety finds you sometime
and I'd rather suffocate in cigarettes
than lose him altogether
and even if he smells like Hell
at least that means he made it back
May 21, 2012
May 21, 2012 at 6:14 PM UTC
Memory of sun seeps from the heart.
Grass grows yellower.
Faintly if at all the early snowflakes
Hover, hover.
Water becoming ice is slowing in
The narrow channels.
Nothing at all will happen here again,
Will ever happen.
Against the sky the willow spreads a fan
The silk's torn off.
Maybe it's better I did not become
Your wife.
Memory of sun seeps from the heart.
What is it? -- Dark?
Perhaps! Winter will have occupied us
In the night.
6.8k
The flag, a white crescent and single star
on a field of crimson — kırmızı, not just 'red' —
tells of Islam. The men drinking beer and rakı
at pavement tables, even in Ramadan,
and the short-skirted, bare-armed girls,
parading with bare-faced confidence,
tell of other influences;
but at the appointed hour we hear the call to prayer
from the marble minaret, a slim finger
pointing to the sky beside shining domes
reflecting the vault of heaven.
At five a.m. we hear it faintly through hotel double-glazing,
or at sunset, as a peaceful accompaniment to the spectacle,
and we remember where we are.
But especially at the midday hour,
when the voice of the muezzin echoes
over noisy street or market,
and from another minaret and another
the duet becomes a trio, a quartet
of different melodies, out of tune
with each other but never discordant
(in these tones the word has no meaning),
the faithful are reminded, however busy they may be,
that their God requires something of them.
Then, entering the cool calm of the mosque,
entering the quiet forest of pillars,
feeling through the soles of our bare feet
marble polished by the tread
of generations of worshippers,
fine-grained wood,
the rich softness of crimson carpet,
we luxuriate in the textures as they combine
with the formal floral patterns of the tiles,
the ornate calligraphy of the inscriptions,
the rich colours of the glass,
and we realise that the builders of these mosques
knew what they were doing, so many years ago,
how peace can enter the soul
through the senses.
Aug 6, 2016
Aug 6, 2016 at 11:43 AM UTC
faintly sinister smiles
twitch their way across her acrobat face
and as her rolling and tumbling expressions
make their way through all manner of devious delight
your hearts hungry eye fixes on her
come hither and lets make whoopee nasty girl dress
her favors are optional
and she will tease but never share
the ever present dangling carrot
like a perfume
fills the air with delights but its just air
shes a happiness monger
so its best if you don't displease
its always a bitter mote neath the plastic vibe
might as well be a rocky mountain monument
little miss twisted in a little patchwork dress
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 2:37 PM UTC
of this wilting wall the colour drub
souring sunbeams,of a foetal fragrance
to rickety unclosed blinds inslants
peregrinate,a cigar-stub
disintegrates,above,underdrawers club
the faintly sweating air with pinkness,
one pale dog behind a slopcaked shrub
painstakingly utters a slippery mess,
a star sleepily,feebly,scratches the sore
of morning. But i am interested more
intricately in the delicate scorn
with which in a putrid window every day
almost leans a lady whose still-born
smile involves the comedy of decay,
6.3k
When you see your parents fight
Your mom on her knees
Your dad begging please
When you hear your parents fight
As you sit on the chair,
Faintly hearing their cries of despair
"I don't deserve this."
Does anyone do?
You sit across your father
Listen to the story, his side
You go to your mother
Her clothes packed, she's made up her mind
Turmoil stirs inside you
If this can happen to them,
Will it certainly happen to me?
Will I make my children cry?
Bucketful tears, their eyes turn dry
Will my husband fell defeated, lost his cause
Hopeless and defeated?
OR
Could it be
My children seeing clearly
The lack of tears on my face
Again, silently hoping
This is just another phase
Will I see my husband go out
To his car? Drive away
to the sunset, with him
Half my heart.
When you see your parents fight
Both of them on opposite sides
And you struggle to see
Which to go find
You go to your mother
Plead for a second chance
"Don't leave, please stay."
But she's decided so there's nothing to say.
Your dad holds you close
The Lord will fix this,
Just you wait and see."
I, waiting 'til we'll be happy
When you hear your parents fight
No, you don't hear
Don't know how to feel
with the silence, fill
the missing words
You go up to your room
And write this poem
Because there's nothing you can do
When your parents fight
For at the same time, you, too
Want to take flight
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 5:27 AM UTC
Almost round 4:00pm two Asian lover dovers with giggly
laughter took the South Bound subway to South Philly.
Their outward display was so neat and pleasing like a painter with my pen I had to write this...
Watching two Asian school youths;
frequently there;
every smile every nuance of expressions,
their soul-mate world
tells about their quiet and giggly adoration
Transformed from their
hard steel bench
is now a park bench
Encompassing strident voices fade;
Their happy world is victorious
She sits upon his lap
And whispers; they faintly laugh
Their entwined thoughts
cannot be pulled asunder
As I write, I observe;
I laugh to myself,
the remembrance
of my soul-mate and myself
many years ago...
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 5:35 PM UTC
Dry land,
quiet land
of night's
immensity.
(Wind in the olive groves,
wind in the Sierra.)
Ancient
land
of oil lamps
and grief.
Land
of deep cisterns.
Land of death without eyes
and arrows.
(Wind on the roads.
Breeze in the poplar groves.)
Village
Upon a barren hill,
a Calvary.
Clear water
and century-old olive trees.
In the narrow streets,
men hidden under cloaks,
and on the towers
the spinning vanes.
Forever
spinning.
Oh, village lost
in the Andalucia of tears!
Dagger
The dagger
enters the haert
the way plowshares turn over
the wasteland.
No.
Do not cut into me.
No.
Like a ray of sun,
the dagger
ignites terrible
hollows.
No.
Do not cut into me.
No.
Crossroads
East wind,
a street lamp
and a dagger
in the heart.
The street
quivers like
tightly pulled
string,
like a huge, buzzing
horsefly.
Everywhere,
I see a dagger
in the heart.
Ay!
The cry leaves shadows of cypress
upon the wind.
(Leave me here, in this field,
weeping.)
The whole world's broken.
Only silence remains.
(Leave me here, in this field,
weeping).
The darkened horizon's
bitten by bonfires.
(I've told you already to leave me
here, in this field,
weeping.)
Surprise
He lay dead in the street
wit ha dagger in his chest.
Nobody knew who he was.
How the streep lamp flickered!
Mother of god,
how the street lamp
faintly flickered!
It was dawn. Nobody
could look up, wide-eyed,
into the glare.
And he lay dead in the street
with a dagger in his chest,
and nobody knew who he was.
Soleá
Wearing black mantillas,
she thinks the world is tiny
and the heart immense.
Wearing black mantillas.
She thinks that tender sighs
and cries disappear
into currents of wind.
Wearing black mantillas.
The door was left open,
and at dawn the entire sky
emptied onto her balcony.
Ay, yayayayay,
wearing black mantillas.
Cave
From the cave
come endless sobbings.
(Purple
over red.)
The gypsy
calls forth the distance.
(Tall towers
and mysterious men.)
In an unsteady voice
his eyes wander.
(Black
over red.)
And the white-washed cave
trembled in gold.
(White
over red.)
Encounter
For you and I
aren't ready
to find each other.
You... as you well know.
I loved her so much!
Follow the narrowest path.
I have
holes
in my hands
from the nails.
Can't you see how
I'm bleeding to death?
Don't look back,
go slowly,
and pray as I do
to San Cayetano
for you and I
aren't ready
to find each other.
Dawn
Bells of Cordoba
in the early morning.
Bells of Granada
at dawn.
You are felt by all the girls
who weep to the tender,
weeping Solea.
The girls
of upper Andalucia,
and of lower.
You girls of Spain,
with tiny feet
and trembling skirts,
who've filled the crossroads
with crosses.
Oh, bells of Cordoba
in the early morning,
and, oh, the bells of Granada
at dawn!
5.9k
drenched in blue moonlight
I admired her through
the sheet of smoke
in the gap between us
Carefully I
swayed and our arms
greeted with a gentle graze
"I tend to see the glass as half empty–
sometimes completely."
Sudden words drew me
like water from a well
A cigarette pinched by
the uneven crescents of her lips
pulsated, her sallow face
awash in a delicious red glow
"Either way, it's a beautiful glass,
isn't it?"
time nonexistent
She fumbled another
to a faintly open mouth
I lit it in silence
Jun 30, 2016
Jun 30, 2016 at 11:23 PM UTC
Perhaps, We have a worldview, that has turned a bit myopic.
Perhaps, We need a checkup from a doctor for Our optics,
Perhaps, We need for them to write Us out a new prescription, then
Perhaps, We'd see the truth in life that's written in inscription,
Perhaps, the Earth is weeping somberly, but We don't care to listen,
Perhaps, it warns us of Our doom when global profits are our mission
Perhaps, the World is run by men, whose only drive is for themselves
Perhaps, the few will **** the many, just for monetary wealth,
Perhaps, We're all too blind to understand the implications,
Perhaps, a future fraught with poverty and war is what We're facing
Perhaps, a different train of thought, is faintly running by adjacent,
Perhaps, it's one that wrests its life from the stagnation of complacence
Perhaps, We're living forms of life that have been cast inside a mold
Perhaps, estrangement from each other causes Our Hearts to grow cold
Perhaps, all concentrated power's an illusion, We behold,
Perhaps, We all could take it back, if We'd stop doing what We're told
Perhaps, Our Being is unique, and isn't something predefined,
Perhaps, Our priorities in life should they themselves be redefined,
Perhaps, Our voices are of import, and should not be undermined,
Perhaps, We all should organize, and build a world of new design
Perhaps, it is the Media that keeps Us all divided,
Perhaps, We should act neighborly and strive to be united,
Perhaps, in living as a People, We would find Ourselves delighted, and
Perhaps, We'd change the status quo, if We would only try to fight it.
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 5:01 AM UTC
I draw her close to my chest
With her ****** pointing out from her underwear like an arrow
Slowly removing her underwear arm by arm and kissing the smooth shoulder
As I pull the two arms of her underwear the underwear fell out of her body slowly
I can see her pointed ****** calling me for a ****
Picked up an ice-cream, rubbing it gently and slowly all over her smooth soft and attractive ebony skin
From her face to her toes(all over her body)
All her body is covered with ice-cream
And she screamed baby is cold and warm
Slowly I started giving her a tongue bath
From her fore-head to her cheek to her nose to her lips
Paused a little as I deep my tongue into her two attractive lips and hers into mine
We exchange tongues for minutes
Down to her neck, wiping all the ice-cream with my lips gently and slowly
As she started to scold
Down to her chest l **** up the cream on her chest
Holding her pointed breast as I kiss and **** her ****** slowly
She scream softly and faintly "aahh hmmm that's it baby she said"
down to her **** tommy
With my tongue going angle at a point on her stomach
I Started again from her toes **** all her ten toes one after each other slowly
To her knees
She started shaking as I approach her **** ice-creamed laps
The volume of her screams increase slowly as am kissing her laps and going upward to her tight ice-creamed *****
Her legs shakes heavily and her body started shaking
She shuddered softly as my tongue rolled over her ****
she started to scold, but moaned softly as my tongue pressed at her **** harder
she lifted her head up looking at me as I shake my head side by side with my tongue holding the **** harder
She dropped her head as she murmured "hmmmm" faintly
She started to push me away gently not that she don't want more but because is over-sensitive
I grabbed her back
While I continue to **** her deeply into her ***** slowly and gently
As she raise her head again holding my head toward her *****
Pressing my head harder towards her ***** as my tongue was deep into her ***** and my thumb press her **** and shaking it side by side
Please," she whined breathlessly to me.
"Please. Faster." I withdrew my tongue and gently took her ****
in my teeth and wriggled it back and forth quickly. Her legs
jumped and she cried out, pushing with her arms again. I
grabbed her hips and pull closer
"Oh... Aaaaaah ... I'm so close," she whined. I circled her ****
with my nose and pressed my tongue back inside her, flicking it
in and out quickly to the sound of her gasps.
"Just... Ah... Almost..." She gasped when it hit her, and her body
quickly shuddered,
She slowly dropped her head as she removed her hand on my head
So I licked at the inside of her thigh, where the *** had sound
up, and continued to clean her up with my tongue
everything tensing and relaxing for several
moments before she relaxed back into the floor,
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 10:33 AM UTC