"fleetingly" poems
Red wine bubbling in the back of your throat
Rewind the kindling of a fire you won't put it out
Oceans unchanging, swallowing whole boats
You and I left in the void, to drown
I am unfeeling and fleetingly alive
I am lonely and slowly finding peace of mind
You are salt spilled across table tops
You are a child tearing apart and lost.
Dirt on your knees and scabs on your skin
We live free with the pleasures of sin
You taste him on your tongue,
Songs we left unsung.
Your old jacket, the one you gave me,
Well the zipper broke last week.
And the sleeves are torn apart,
It's grown too tight, it don't fit how it did in the start
Metaphors for a broken heart
How the ocean rages and pulls us apart
Smiles for the tattered soul
How the angels play their role.
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 11:45 PM UTC
Not an enigmatic smile
Like the constipated, condescending smirk
Adorning, and inexplicably adored, on the Mona Lisa's smug face;
But a smile to justify God's existence;
A smile that, when dazzlingly bestowed
Upon one fortunate soul, caught rabbit-like in its
Wondrous radiance, infinitesimally, and cumulatively,
Increases the World's joy. Where every living thing -
Whatever exists on the planet, imperceptibly hums
To a new, more celestial pitch -
An effervescent vibration celebrating Life's mysteries:
A reason for existence.
It's a smile to make an Alchemist cry -
Turning a leaden heart to gold in an instant.
It's a smile to make a mediocre poet struggle
To articulate an adequate description
Using all the hyperbole, simile and metaphor at his limited disposal.
Inestimably more brilliant, and more valuable,
Than the most flawless diamond ever found -
And, perhaps, just as rare.
Thankfully, a renewable resource,
Enabled to enlighten and heat
The recesses of any beneficiary's
Heart and invigorate their soul.
Helen may have caused a thousand ships to sail,
Destroying a nation as a consequence;
And Cleopatra nearly caused the collapse of an Empire;
But Tao's smile, unleashed in all its glory
Could melt the Antarctic ice-sheet -
Drowning us all in its magnificence.
Mayan's have a myth that states such a smile
Only comes around once every twelve thousand years,
In the Great Galactic turning.
Einstein's General Theory of Relativity
Is often mistakenly considered to concern gravity,
But is, in fact, concerned with one's relative position
To Tao's smile - an inescapable vortex of pleasure.
No music conceived of the fabled Celestial Spheres
Compares to the silent, ethereal harmonies tattooing my heart
Whenever, beacon-like, that smile flashes fleetingly in my direction.
And Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle has not a Quantum core,
But revolves around the statistical uncertainty of being blessed
With the ephemeral thrill of a benign grim.
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 9:49 AM UTC
Online Greetings e-mailed Promised Meetings
Five minute friends Leave Fleetingly
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 8:15 AM UTC
Let me tell you about myself.
I am a mosquito magnet.
I have little scars of itchy memories all over my scrawny legs.
But I think it means my blood is sacred.
I find my laugh unique and one of a kind.
My walk, resembling more of a bowlegged wobble, allows me to stand out against the crowd.
(My walk isn't that bad, by the way, I was merely exaggerating for stylistic purposes.)
What's more, the fact that I am prone to blushing at even the slightest glance my way is kldjaf;ldjfoiad;htija;ji;ajf.
I love it.
My clumsiness only adds meaning to the moments in which I am fleetingly graceful.
Yes, my posture is rough around the edges,
But it signifies that I have been around the world a few times.
At least I don't jut out my pretty decently sized *******
You're welcome.
I find my lack of arguing skills in the moment cute.
My mistakes are adorable, and my obvious flaws are endearing.
The fact I can't **** an ant without showing sympathy is amiable.
If only somebody thought the same way about me.
If only people looked and analyzed others as closely as I do.
They would see.
That way I wouldn't be the only one loving myself. (Or trying to.)
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 6:09 PM UTC
motherless,
is who,
to society,
i am.
it's on my centrelink forms,
it's written on my face,
it's why my teachers pity me.
but i never get to be,
me,
rosie.
motherless,
is what i've been,
since the candles,
fleetingly glowed,
and i made a wish not to lose those i loved,
as i turned,
16.
motherless,
the things that happened for me to receive this title,
killed me,
and,
killed her,
too.
the whole world,
without her,
has turned cold and blue.
motherless,
has poisoned my whole world,
my whole being, whole gravity,
whole soul has been overturned.
motherless,
is what now consumes me,
and has,
painfully,
since i turned 16.
Feb 26, 2012
Feb 26, 2012 at 3:55 AM UTC
Sometimes I feel
fleetingly
like I am not here.
I feel like a narrator
like a character
in an unfinished novel,
like
like
like an unending street.
Like this town,
like this place-
a collection of lives,
beginnings and ends,
tangled strings
and cracked windows.
Wandering through the small maze
of downtown,
I know the answer.
I need to get out of here.
Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 3:56 PM UTC
It was after we passed Moby’s Dock
that Ebony met her first thresher shark
He was five feet long or so
two feet shark, three feet tail,
and had just been pulled from the surf
to be proudly displayed
by the fisherman who had caught him
Ebony stood transfixed
her every muscle poised
her feathered tail twitched
as she leaned closer to inspect
and then recoiled from this cold-blooded beauty
still dressed in fleetingly iridescent
blues and greens and purples -
As the sun’s fading beams highlighted
the magnificence of this dying shark
I mourned his loss that night.
The noise and tourists
in the Pier’s arcades and bumper cars
did not detract from the peacefulness
of the Pacific in her chaos
for this was August
and they would soon go home
I watched a distant storm at sea
flashing fire against the deepening twilight
I stood, and Ebony,
gazing at the flashes of lightning
My hand felt her softness and warmth
as I stroked the waves of her black fur
relishing the cool wind on my face
listening to the rigging
of the boats resting at anchor off the Pier
Thinking about thresher sharks
Willing them away
from this place with its fishermen
and cold, baited hooks
Cori MacNaughton
13 Sept 2000
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 1:11 PM UTC
Phases of faces, captured moments and instances
I pass by, so swiftly, so fleetingly
Caught in the crossroads of paradigms and decisions
I stood paralyzed, terrified.
I meet intense eyes that bore through me, knowing me, knowing us
A smile as warm as the sun that has the power to melt me
Your presence is strong, comforting…strong, unsettling…strong, terrifying
You have me without even trying, you mesmerize me.
You bring me to my knees with a sigh,
you can crush me with a word.
You can bring me to bliss with a touch,
you can bring me to ecstasy with a kiss.
You command me with a whisper, I am drawn to you
You break down my china walls, one by one
You undress my layers of failed expectations
Of shattered dreams, and broken hearts
I stand before you, naked, vulnerable
I look away, not bearing for you to see
My helplessness, my hopelessness
All my imperfections, my fears, my desires.
You wipe my tears away, and kiss my bitterness away
And yet the fear descends on me…I’ve been here before
Fear of hurt, of betrayal, of disappointment
Fear that this is all an illusion…or perhaps just my delusion
And so I put on a smile, cool and composed
Hide behind my fast-paced life, run far away from you
Going so fast, so fast…so I won’t think, I won’t feel
Until I fall, exhausted, to sleep a dreamless sleep
I need the noise, the meaningless clanging
For in silence, the longing creeps in…
To be in your arms, just us and nothing else…
Nothing but warmth and the sound of our hearts beating.
So I welcome the numbness, welcome the pain
Punish myself for the choice I’ve made in my weakness
Someday I will find my happiness, someday I will find my strength
Somehow…I will find you again.
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 1:32 PM UTC
A fruit, tasting truly different, it was what I needed,
because in every bite, it satiated my desire, inexpressible
I climbed to the top branch of the fruit tree and
plucked the most sun drenched juicy one gleaming.
But it didn't put out the fire raging in my heart, though
the sweet fruit made me withdraw and be quiet
for a short while and then I went in search of another
when it dawned on me that it's a rare root, with
magical effects, that the nomads collect from hidden woods,
and it is the stuff used at the dead of night for alchemy
the chemical work that makes even the cheapest metal gold!
I went seeking a girl,who was described in revelations--
her bewitching beauty, haunting eyes and the songs she sung
promised many things to my heart and I couldn't sleep
after the time I met fleetingly, that seductive dame.
She was from a world different, her heart was unlike
any one else's I have known, yet I told her I still do search,
as it was a puzzle still, why beauty beacons me !
The black forest winds and waters, the flowers everywhere,
I needed to be alone with myself, when my heart stirred,
heard a little bird chirping that said" You make me calm,
where did you find the poem you just read aloud?"
Suddenly I have woken up from the dream I had fallen into,
eyes lit with beauty, munching a fruit, my favorite
book of poetry in hand,I went to my love, to read it aloud
to her and mull the beauty together, get rejuvenated.
Aug 27, 2017
Aug 27, 2017 at 11:19 AM UTC
Choruses of songbirds lift my eyelids
for the fourth time since five.
The harmonies tenderly resonate in my ears
Singing me to life
Purity where I house guilt,
the songbirds spout glorious praise,
Honestly awake when I lie still
it is no wonder I hide from the light.
With a beautiful song, he bobs through the light
that he wears on his wings
Unafraid to be heard and no reason to fear
for he is not broken, for he has not sinned.
The songbirds sing me to wake
And I soberly stare at the shadows of trees
where they perch so fleetingly,
and I long to sing in the innocence of morning.
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 2:49 PM UTC
Nine months after I was born, the Twentieth Century began to collapse.
East Berlin,graffiti-mural concrete, a jutted enigma scratched
on ordinance maps, the sort found
landscaping westernized Primary School walls.
Where within, labored in real time, the television told my parents
(and everyone else given to social conservation in 1989) that a wall falling down
would bring an end to the gap between the working and the working poor.
Freedom waited for many on the other side.
But of course, History draws up different plans.
Never content to just go out with a bash, or to
fleetingly drift by leaving
in its absence an underwhelmed lull
The bloodiest century yet
left the new world entrenched
in an odyssey of hatreds
handed down from the past
right about the time human suffering became a bit dull
and the peaceful countries were too busy
tripling their money instead.
What does History really teach us and what are the real benefits
of being free, or freer than you were before?
Human ambition, which burns it way out of any oasis of calm,
which calls children out of sleeping in the night
Always seeks out the exhaustible
An inveterate Black sheep leading astray
the ever susceptible ****** lamb
Delusion’s strange bedfellows are the worthiest adversaries
to run away from, to reserve contrition for.
Unlike the inevitability of uprooted animal migration
during a monsoon swell
Can a people with an invested addiction
to the pursuit of happiness
Ever truly be prepared
for the inevitability of rapid change?
Jun 16, 2013
Jun 16, 2013 at 6:00 PM UTC
You lie there on your side.
Slightly out of breath.
Your face is propped up on your hand.
A slight smile is on your face,
The remnant Of some dumb joke
I've told.
I love to make you smile
I lie opposite you.
A perfect mirror of you.
I reach out and sloooowly,
(Almost imperceptibly)
I trace one finger along the enticing, promising curve of your hip.
Letting it trail up your skin,
Soft as a babies breath.
You close your eyes and shiver (Almost imperceptibly)...
Your breathing hitches
(Almost imperceptibly), but I catch it.
You roll onto your back
Making my fingers trail fleetingly across the curve of your perfectly proportioned hip
And across your silky belly
Where they come to rest
Looking into my eyes
You take my hand
And lead me...
Jul 23, 2021
Jul 23, 2021 at 11:21 PM UTC
he offers her a ******
and
her mouth says
good morning
and he thinks
fleetingly
good love *****
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 2:23 AM UTC
Fiercely I n d e p e n d e n t
I am as stubborn as the Aries Ram
which just so happens to be my zodiac sign.
I don't care what others might think of me
but at the same time I live to please.
I've found that I can really only rely on my family
but my friends care far too much
far too fleetingly.
I am blunt and **will call you out on your ********
as nicely as possible.
I can't handle tears even when they're my own
and they always sound like
**short
dying
gasps**
but that's what they are, right?
It's your lungs and eyes dying because your heart was too dumb to listen to your own brain.
My brain was only trying to look out for me.
I'm not sorry that I've failed it way too many times.
My mind constantly revolves around myself
because I'm way too proud and vain
of my way too small accomplishments.
I want to be known as Great
and I am not ashamed to admit it.
No matter what I do
be it the purest good or the wickedest bad
it will be great and jaw dropping.
I am extremely conceited.
And shallow
And a hypocrite
And a liar
And will always keep score
(By the way as of 2012, I had 37 points and you 34. I'm still winning.)
But I own up to it and will always try to be better.
I am also determined
And hardworking
And persistent
Which means that I will get farther than most people.
In 2001 the No Child Left Behind Act was implemented in primary and secondary schools in the USA to ensure exactly what its name says.
But there are always children left behind.
There are always people left behind
And I will not be one of them.
And no matter how conceited and full of myself I am
*I will always find your name written in between the lines of my poetry
whispered with every breath that I take
crumpled on sheets of paper that I've long since thrown away*
because every line that I wrote was never good enough for you.
The summer before my senior year
I tried to isolate myself from my friends and family as much as possible.
Not because I was depressed
but because I knew that I had to learn how to be happy all by myself.
I love them all to death
but I know how much it hurts
when you *lose yourself in another person
so much that you can't find a way out*
or even a way to heal once you've escaped.
I'm hard to love enough as it is
so I did it to train myself for the times in life
when I know that I will be alone.
But I was taught that **there's a difference between being alone
and being lonely**
so which one are you?
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 4:15 PM UTC
I remember one time, way back when I was ten years old
I was watching my friend do his homework
His mom trying to balance cooking and helping him out
Racing between the oven and his side
And I recall sitting there and staring at his paper
Excitement and intrigue was filling my mind
Envying his prestige, just a few grades ahead of me
I couldn’t wait to do homework like that
A fistful of years fleetingly flew by
With my fists closed, I would wait at bus stop after bus stop
Until I was at the same one as him
But I wanted to grow up so badly and be like he was
Instead I lived ahead of the present
Waiting at the wrong bus stop for a bus that would never show
One filled with experience and insight
Now I just have a blank paper in front of me that’s white.
Apr 30, 2013
Apr 30, 2013 at 10:11 AM UTC
Rise and shine, rise and shine,
Sweet sunshine
Saluted the stars as one by one they disappeared.
Rise and shine,rise and shine
Sweet sunshine,
Sang the moon lovingly,
Romance time is over,
The trio met fleetingly at dawn.
Rise and shine,rise and shine
Sweet sunshine,
Paint the sky in pink and gold,
Ablaze it with your brilliance,
Fill the hearts of the beholder with passion,
Let a new day begin,
Bring the paradise to earth,
Be a new page in someone's life,
A poet's delight,
A comfort for a sad soul,
Hope and an invitation to brighten someone's life.
Rise and shine, rise and shine,
Sweet sunshine.
7/10/2019
Oct 7, 2019
Oct 7, 2019 at 11:11 AM UTC
When I tell the story of this fragile butterfly,
possible, it becomes autobiographical,
I come across larks of the sky, sharks too,
how lucky to see you, fleetingly- a swan at large, so lovely!
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 9:39 PM UTC
The night conspiratorial,
A certain unfriendly bite to it,
heaviness like things undone,
Autumn is television cackle mahogany scented,
one creature making sense
Of its biology,
Legs and arms and hearts and minds entangled,
Until lethargic resignation
Slipping our memories in years to come,
Like we were absent from our bodies,
Fleetingly appalled at my abandonment,
To what extent do the walls know?
Aug 28, 2018
Aug 28, 2018 at 9:28 AM UTC
in the passenger seat of your
tightly packed subaru
i felt as good as royalty
you as king, me as queen,
always wondering what lay in store
for me and you.
little did i know it would
come stammering to a halt
not that it should've
but i always found it strange
how you added salt
to your macaroni and cheese
not that it phased me,
no, i loved you all the same
your salt and all.
because i was taken advantage of
and you were salty as ever
and i was high off the ground
in a lifeguard chair as i told you the news
and i heard clattering on the other end of the line
you were done, you were no longer mine
and suddenly it was as if
the ocean had its own gravitational pull
begging me to come in, come and drown
i would go fleetingly, with nary a sound
but i grabbed familiarities instead
took the knife to my skin again
and it bled and it bled and it bled
i never wanted it to stop
i was surrounded by
people who knew what unconditional meant
and they wrapped me up, kissed my
wounds with their closing fingers
too many times
i should have died.
there is no requiem for a dream
there was no requiem for me
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 12:59 PM UTC
People and people all around,
there is no one who would call my name aloud.
Many know, many don't,
would anyone accept me? No, one won't.
They talk, they laugh, they share,
I yearn for a little bit of care..
But who has got time to spare?
No one, no where.
I gaze at the girl I truly admire,
hoping for a hello or a pleasant smile.
She fleetingly saw me, or maybe she didn't,
But the very next moment, she embraced someone.
I smile and ask myself,
who am I befooling?
This is a world of glamour,
Extroverts are ruling..
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 3:29 AM UTC
For what is past do not lament,
Yearn not for what is yet to be.
Learn to live now; in the moment
For it passes so fleetingly....
Feb 3, 2017
Feb 3, 2017 at 5:58 AM UTC
Again before an emptiness of soul, where all is fears.
Awake but mind devoid of light or any new ideas.
Crushing feeling of loneliness permeates the very air.
Every action taken or ignored devoid of simple care.
How did I become this decayed and empty thing?
Thinking daily upon miseries, so often days before did bring.
Distant, faded memory of the moments that made a smile.
So fleetingly they went to allow despair room all this while.
Worth? A sense of purpose long deserted, gone and fled.
Only a loathing and a pointlessness is left to fill my head.
Long days before today and for others still yet to come,
Without reason to be, certain only eventually I will succumb.
Like coats of paint upon a wall each day another layer smears.
No smiles, no joy, no hope just a face soddened by my tears.
Ever present darkness, shrouds of dark veils upon me, drape.
Calling increasing loudly that there is only one true escape.
Apr 27, 2022
Apr 27, 2022 at 1:52 AM UTC
Arthur dear, don’t fret.
Papers, papers, get your papers.
I have never been to the sea. I always wanted to go to the sea.
No, never since my husband died.
Oh aye, a sight to behold.
The rascals of Ballydrim out in force.
The maid peept out the window.
The fryar and the nun.
An old man is a bed full of bones.
Is he not, is it not, is it not?
Rose is red and rose is white.
New new nothing.
Row well ye mariners.
I have never seen the sea.
The pauper and the layman, the priest and the scoundrel, all moving
with intent.
Sometimes, fleetingly, never anything less.
Profound, very, yes dreadfully profound.
Labour in vaine.
In great concentric circles about the time your husband died.
Biting the bullets one by one, out on the green fields of Amerikay.
Interest rates climbing on the national stew fund. Spiralling into a new dawn of exoneration of traditional values.
Gracie did all those things and more.
And the quaker danced.
Rose is red and rose is red.
For judge and jury.
Very very far.
Quite near actually.
Further than strictly possible.
In all reason dear.
75 miles from the sea. Exactly.
And another.
And another.
AND another.
Drawing to a conclusion.
Bliss.
Seemingly.
Fleetingly.
(pause)
Have at thy coat old woman!
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 1:21 PM UTC
Come now as the Spring Breeze
Kisses our pale flesh
As we lie post union.
Feel the moment
Feel the ship of time
Watch as it crawls forth
From passions depth less harbor.
Raise your head to the light
My night child
My pretty
My darling
My sweet
As cool spring breezes
Brush over us with their lips
Golden and bright
In the afternoon sun.
In the golden, afternoon sun.
Lay here a while
Rest.
Feel it now
Feel it soft
Feel it blow over our embrace
Whilst soft toned breezes
Stretch the time we hold
In the palms of our baby-skinned hands.
Hush my love
Hush your heart
Stay a moment
Feel those cool kisses
Planted fleetingly on the naked canvas
Of skin
As these tides ebb and flow
In time with our blisses.
Touch it now
Softly glancing
As our hair is sent
Rippling
Like tides on the cool ocean shore
Of time-pregnant moments.
Impregnate out skin
On every lazy Sunday
Since the shared time began
Between Cupid and Psyche
And the coals of Hades
Cool softly
In the spring breeze.
Lay here a moment.
Rest.
Lay here with me.
Nov 10, 2011
Nov 10, 2011 at 10:48 PM UTC
Dave took his little boy for a stroll. Hand in hand, they went, as-three-year old Brody loved walking with his daddy. The spring weather was finally here, and green color was starting to return back to the landscape. Brody stopped and pointed up in the air, and shouted, "Daddy, look! Birds running in the sky!"
A flock of birds flew on by, fleetingly, and Dave smiled down at his son beaming up at him. Oh, that little-man-in-the making! It was like father, like son! Dave used to say such things when he was his age, yet he never heard it put that way before. Birds running in the sky--wonder what the birds thought of the ant-men down below? He exclaimed to his son, "Those critters have feathered wings, and they can travel like airplanes! And they can also relax a while and soar through the sky like they were floating on air! Like balloons!" Dave put his hands out like he was an airplane and Brody followed his lead.
"I want to fly!" Brody declared, running around in circles with his outstretched arms.
"Me, too!" echoed Dave. He knelt down on one leg and pulled his boy next to him and pointed to the sky. "When I was a kid I thought those clouds were made of marshmallows. My dad used to say to me, 'Let's go outside and play catch under the marshmallow roof'". The cottony, white clouds were billowy, three-dimensional puffs of fluff, stuffed up in various patches as if to decorate the big, blue sky.
Brody gave his father a big boy squeeze, a precious moment, indeed. Dave never wanted to lose that imagination that he could share with his son, and his son could share with him. They both continued on, making their way under the marshmallow sky.
Mar 6, 2017
Mar 6, 2017 at 3:08 PM UTC