"flounders" poems
Open your lips, but nothing comes out
Open your lips, but the sound has gone mute
When you need it most your voice flounders
But when you don't need it, it sticks around
Find the voice to speak against something
Find your voice to stand for something you believe in
Find your voice and be the person you want to be
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 6:50 AM UTC
Swim in the deepest part of the ocean,
With waves over head,
A life pieced by water,
A nautical life,
Or aquatic wonders,
There is no fear,
Living in fairytales,
Mithical creatures,
Sorrounding the waters,
Travel sea to sea,
Hopes disguised as flounders,
Surfers all above,
And here come the divers,
Ready to explore,
The kind I belong to,
Sing to them now,
They'll jump off from sails,
To follow the voice,
Deep in the waters,
Desperate souls,
Following as I speak,
Gullible minds,
When told to go under,
This siren awaits,
For sailors to wonder,
To bring them in deep,
In dangerous waters.
-Kathia Mariana Landeros
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 6:18 PM UTC
**And the Lord spoke in dreams serene
to he, a righteous man within his years,
of mankind's folly, of wickedness,
the Earth to flood with Heaven's tears.
'From the face of the Earth I will cleanse
fowl of the air with feathered wing,
only two from each kind will I spare
neither man nor beast or creeping thing'.
'An Ark to build is My intent
of Gopher wood, three decks high,
many years will thou toil and sweat
but labours fruits will keep thee dry'.
'For thou art blessed, a blameless man
and secure shall be with thy kin
and with sustenance, I will provide for all
upon this Ark, you will abide within'.
Then at God's command, throughout the land
to each and every creature,
two of each, male n' female both to save
... to propagate their future.
So from every forest, from every field
from every byre, to every beach
bird and bat upon the wing, all that crawl
or walk, procure, just two, two of each.
Then on marched they, tooth by hide
ever forward, onward bound
fur and feather side by side
to board the Ark, upon the ground.
Of the days when Noah walked with God
thirty score were his measure in years
and through forty days and forty nights
the deluge prevailed, for those pioneers.
For the fountains of the deep were opened
and the windows of Heaven gaped wide
upon the face of the Earth, the rains fell
and the oceans they blossomed, world wide.
Upon the face of the waters, the Ark rose
until the highest peak with waters advanced
for the days in number, one hundred and fifty
drifting upon that mighty expanse.
Then the 'Lord God' remembered Noah
and caused the great winds to blow
wiping the tears of Heaven away
and closed tight, the deep fountains below.
Then the Ark upon Ararat stumbled
as the mighty waters, slowly withdrew
with the rains restraint, the waters abate
and the crests of the mountains, they grew.
And Noah sends forth both raven and dove
the ravens complaint was to fly 'to and fro'
but, with olive leaf, the dove returns
then flies again thrice, by dawns early glow.
Thirty score plus one, his years then tally
when the waters were dried from upon the Earth,
then Noah walks forth with beasts disembarking
for this was the dawn of the worlds rebirth.
Then God blessed, and bestows man with dominion
over every beast of the ground
over every creature that flounders
over all the birds that abound.
And His covenant with humanity, established
the rainbow, His contract to see
never to cause, such a deluge for man
for that was our Lord's guarantee.**
... ... ...
451
Jul 9, 2011
Jul 9, 2011 at 11:14 PM UTC
**Casting the line over glass like waters,
Float coming to rest on the unseen bond of air.
The lure of the insect so irresistible,
we watch with a fisherman's stare.
Hour upon hour sitting and staring into space,
Umbrella positioned strategically over head.
The rain mercilessly poring onto the water,
Soaks the fisherman he wonders why he is not in bed.
The line moves; slowly jerking ,
Then more as the fish takes a bite.
The fisherman takes a strong hold,
He is ready for the fight.
The spool whizzes round and round,
Faster And faster as it spins and takes it's toll .
The fisherman holds; and pulls in the line,
As the fish really takes control.
At last the fisherman lands him,
A ten pound-er really, "for sure"
His buddies in the pub do believe him,
As his tiddler flounders on the shore.**
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 11:34 AM UTC
You leave fallout whenever you walk away from me.
Oh, god, I can't breathe when I see your face.
Everything in me just stops,
Like someone hit pause,
And then it's like I'm falling through the floor.
I never knew a person could make you this crazy.
I never knew it could be such chaos inside,
Like a star dying,
Little parts of me spinning out,
Fire and light and everything quaking.
I want to reach out and steady myself
Just to touch something solid, to know that gravity still exists
And you're not the only thing that's pulling on me.
My poor heart is trying to keep up
With my blood going the speed of light through my veins,
And it flounders, it stutters and trips and trembles.
Nobody's ever had this kind of effect on me.
I could crumble to your feet whenever I see you.
And for hours after, the fallout keeps coming,
And I lay in the dark in the early morning
Trying and failing to sleep
Because inside I am a whirring jumble of feelings
And the light from the turmoil inside shudders its way out of me
In tears.
Nov 13, 2013
Nov 13, 2013 at 1:01 AM UTC
Headland and Flounders
drift alongside the edge
and what is excluded
bitter vetch, its famine vouch.
Life was then hewed
on a cusps of Moon,
their points return as
Libertines and Rakes.
Born from the same ideal
with choice to inform
and saddle the consequences.
Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 3:07 PM UTC
another broken day
a reminder of how far i am from where i need to be
thoughts of you have become traps littered through my mind
my only victory lies in its dwindling frequency
its effect however never flounders
as the pain in my chest seems only to grow
this journey is getting old and colder
upon every shooting star, I wish for a newly paved road
one that is not just orbiting around the pain of us
where i take solace at every apogee
but one that takes my aching heart
beyond the pull of our broken infinity
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 7:19 AM UTC
drowned the Earth suddenly.
underneath honest light,
all
submerged. this cataract of feeling —
waters pursue beginnings. cradling them
to unknown ends, washed by the shore.
gluttonously the night swallowed
all — parliament of birds warble no longer.
midnight, the Moon
claws the supple skin of organized stone
displaced
where all the edges bloom
forth torrid froth of dappled light which kills no less than a brief life of matchflame. tenuous spar of wind on
the unserious twilight; bulge of death
in the stream — a body haul, rafting
in compost; stench of all topple like
resins held loose in vats. rat **** becomes
as inviting as moulding bread;
tantric music for no instrument, hoarse
cries unbeheld —
until the flesh no longer flounders
pressed against sleep-shaped youngness
hewn lissome in the hours of no succor,
modeling silence in the thrill of
this enthusiastic space,
hands scouring muddied
obscure, atremble,
shadowless hours fill stomachs with
the plump word of rescue yet none
of these fingers unwished the
ingenuity of dull gods — this twilight
nor twinight could ever grive
in forethought, striking bells to signal birds
to arrive again so we could feast
in silver fish, with bare hands scaled to callouses,
looking at it twice-over, this battered yolk
of whiteness, with deeds of the viridian
now atrill in new fragile woodworks
lurching and
ameliorating as we all
stutter and sing
haunts dabbing open
lips of small wounds that
wish to shut quietly, almost
every threat of gray or pummel of
wind startles the flyblown ornate,
hurrying us back to cornerless homes
where all photographs washed away,
very few hang
swayed by verdure
of the gradual throne of sea
curving perpetually the several stars
we have ignored for a while,
where everything quite begins
again to enthrall with a melodic
leitmotif of the most tender of
instances loose
in mouths
and in endless recall
breathless—
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 7:55 AM UTC
Men of Reason: bold, progressive
hammer wielders, depth resounders –
shout from the helm your Godless missive
as our Bible-lifeboat flounders.
Send that Flying Spaghetti Monster,
our imaginary friend,
to the myth-conception dumpster:
let the Bronze Age folktales end.
Make the idols bow to Science.
Your progressive task: to mock –
seek that end in brave defiance.
Down with the shepherd’s useless flock !
Laser-focused human reason
serves to clarify the matter,
strips the symbols from the season,
superstitious tales to shatter.
We, mere rubes in need of crutches,
simple children, willing tools –
must be rescued from the clutches
of the fables preached to fools.
Seamless garments, bushes burning:
are but schemes for fleecing sheep…
We are plebes devoid of learning;
rouse our silly souls from sleep!
Flood us with your noontide wisdom
decimate the weaker link.
Blow away our card-house kingdom
show us Christards how to think.
Then, like you, we shall no longer
cling to ignorance and lies.
Missing links make chains yet stronger,
dragging fairies from the skies.
We shall join you in assurance
that there is no great beyond
thus no need for fire insurance
clergy, staff or magic wand.
We shall celebrate together
joyful, freed from superstition
endless, godless sunny weather:
non-existent non-perdition.
Having thus improved the light
and magnified Man’s modern day,
God’s angels will expire in fright;
the Lord shall meekly fade away.
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 8:34 PM UTC
The kitchen is drowning.
Cereal reefs are jagged and submerged,
Perched on them is a hermit crab in a Campbell’s can.
Little bacon eels swim crackling by.
Toast flounders on the tile,
Half-buried in sandy crumbs.
And the mermaid swims through,
Her little stomach growling
For a peanut-butter-and-jellyfish sandwich.
Jun 11, 2012
Jun 11, 2012 at 3:48 AM UTC
I am an honorific supposition
Relieving vowed perdition
Of narrow corridors
Sedition pounded
Flounders madly
Seeking loudly
A righteous chore
While resolving disputed dignity,
I know eight faces:
Soft Admiration
Rowdy Persuasion
Mighty Resolution
Orphaned Confusion
Delighted Fixation
Grand Separation
Sly Rumination
and a frequent categorical shuffling intellect
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 6:38 PM UTC
i am the being which burns alight
in garb of velvet dreams
if flounders does the sky tonight
bring it home my queen
though crossing mix their paths do not
of heavens and the sea
we catch the bliss of rains which join
our souls and theirs between
and yet if skies do well like tears
unlike any i'd seen
if flounder shall my love tonight
bring me home my queen
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 3:25 PM UTC
Redolent May sings,
lays of perplexing antique,
wooden rose flounders.
...
Fungi is in rout,
war of mushrooms is halted,
desolate treescape.
...
This is not a game,
the colours rest in spindles,
the flag is in truce.
...
Paragon of ice,
tractive glacier, no friction,
chronotropic death.
...
Scourged almighty sea,
symphonic ocean blasted,
tranced undertaking.
...
Mort, syphoned blood grass,
waving like entrails, flooded,
blood spins, grave now swims.
...
Gritty stagnant bole,
refurbished hybernation,
the scent come to play.
...
Reminiscent moon,
gather ye, encompassed light,
that we may know life
Dec 1, 2018
Dec 1, 2018 at 2:56 AM UTC
On this night of unconquerable depth --
I ***** cross-legged
Limbs zig-zag lightning
Headphones stream anthems
Mutations orchestrating the lip
Ears muffled by cacophony
Flounders my voice, quietly
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 2:07 PM UTC
I've got a confession
What's my lesson?
Marlin Brando
Flounders
Off the coast
Who can boast?
The host
Steal the roast
And walk away
without even a ******* toast
Nov 25, 2018
Nov 25, 2018 at 8:57 PM UTC
Good afternoon,
my friend,
(hi)
how was your day?
It ******
of course,
days are never good
when you're
drowning in math
swimming in chemistry
struggling at the surface of English
and floating in the deep end of Spanish.
Come home,
you think,
things are better after a rest,
but what rest?
There is no rest for the student,
who flounders in
papers that taste of salt
when they're thrown in the air
in frustration,
creating a breeze that whispers,
freedom
in a distant voice.
Good evening,
my friend,
(hiya)
do not ask me
What's up?
The sky is up
with my workload,
the papers stuck in the lamp
and behind a poster,
where I'll leave it
since at least I know where that is.
Feb 17, 2014
Feb 17, 2014 at 11:24 PM UTC
Click
Paris Hilton and her views on homosexual men
Click
Lady Gaga and how she gained 25 pounds so now she has to go on a diet
Click
Rookie outfielder fireballs a man out at home plate from deep center
Click
The deathtoll in the Middle East is on a perpetual rise
Click
"Have you ever ****** for money?"
Click
A kitten flounders around on a carpet while a baby watches, points and laughs
Click
A boy on bicycle does a wheelie and falls backward, blood spewing everywhere
Click
"I'm Mitt Romney and I endorse this message."
Click
The far reaches of the universe are estimated to be... beyond human comprehension
Click
Morbidly obese men chugging three forty ounces of beer, one after the other, and are paid for their views by Google
Click
"You will never know the truth."
Click
"The meaning of life is to simply live."
Click
Click here to find out how YOU can make $800 without leaving your house in just one day!
Click
"Spread your *** because that's what you're here for."
Click
Sep 22, 2012
Sep 22, 2012 at 1:02 PM UTC
If you're slowly drowning
In a darkness all your own
just whistle and I'll find you
take your hand and lead you home.
If your heart it flounders
slowly tearing at the seams
know that I still hear it beating
in my melancholy dreams.
If your spirit lingers
at the edge of loving light
know that I will stay there with you
know that I will stand and fight.
We will roar at our oppressors
We will wrestle with the dark
so much light can be created
by a single, tiny spark.
Then from the depths we will emerge
in stronger, wiser form
to stand shoulder to shoulder
and face the coming dawn.
For love will always bind us
it holds us sure and true
and there is nothing stronger
than the love I feel for you.
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 3:22 AM UTC
#*‘Tis but the flapping of the sail,
And not a rent made by the gale*!
H. W. Longfellow
When bureaucrats, with obfuscation
monotone in data-speak
and mumble to their mutinous nation,
bloodless vessels spring a leak.
Scan in vain the rolling breakers;
leadership is out to sea.
Overscripted undertakers
claim to speak for you and me…
The Ship of State, adrift, becalmed
floats on; a most ill-fated craft.
The body politic, unembalmed
begins to ripen fore and aft.
The crew, grown callous to the rot
and numbed by such expediency
with one last desperate cannon shot
forsake all hope of mutiny.
While computers spit statistics,
crewmen spread the expectant word;
(no more trust in mere ballistics…
hope delayed is hope transferred.)
“Make ready to abandon ship !
The captain’s just a talking head.
Lower the lifeboat, let her rip –
before, like him, we end up dead…”
The Ship of State is rent with breaches
data-leakage, data driven –
the lifeboat flounders, coral-riven
seeking distant wave-washed beaches.
Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 11:13 PM UTC
Once I offered you my heart, knowing it was too bruised, too ugly to meld with your imperfect soul. You looked at it with eyes that spoke of dark horizons less travelled and handed it back with trembling caution, too mindful of the searing pain caused by it's many shards. I loved you then, as I do now, though the mention of such things is forbidden within our tight circle of two. I fear your loss as I fear myself, fully and without caution, though now only your traces remain as friendship flounders upon the utterances of my foolish mouth.
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 4:29 AM UTC
And the worst thing is,
I muttered to my right thumb’s torn cuticle,
The Absolute Very Worst Thing In the History of the Universe is
My tongue flounders to find
what I want to say.
So I say,
I’m talking to myself.
I bite the cuticle,
and it stings in that way
that somehow makes me want to do it again.
The Absolute Very Worst Thing in the History of the Universe is
that I don’t know.
I don’t know what I want,
I mean.
The Absolute Very Worst Thing in the History of the Universe is
to have a frozen skeleton,
I sample, though I’m not quite sure
what I mean to mean.
To have these metal fish-hooks
snagged in my skin,
one pulling north, the other dragging south.
You see?
To keep digging holes and sowing seeds
that I have no idea what they’ll grow to be
(pumpkins or daisies
or something awful. Like beets.)
but I’m blistered and there’s sweat that stings my slivered palms (not in the good way) but I keep digging and digging and I can’t stop because someone says I have to move forward, forward, forward, but really I’m just moving in circles, and I’m not doing anything but something, and what is the point, in that, really?
But the worst thing is,
that knowing that to be happy,
and not even like a kid,
beaming, triumphantly holding his lost tooth up in the air,
(I’ve given up on that)
but in the,
I suppose I can sleep at night
way,
(these days, I apparently talk to myself instead,)
The worst thing is
knowing that to feel warm,
to feel things,
Something drags me forward,
in my stupid shoes that make me hobble instead of walk,
I must keep moving forward
in spite of
the shade of a ghost,
that kisses the hollow of my neck
traces his fingers down my spine
and whispers,
you’re getting tired.
Come lie down with me.
Oct 30, 2012
Oct 30, 2012 at 9:39 PM UTC
The new ruse: presidential psychosis
an impartial and swift diagnosis
as you trump-up the charge
but the sign is writ large:
twenty-twenty TRUMP/PENCE the prognosis.
Corrupt psychiatric inspection
serves to further a facile detection:
presidential unfitness.
(But God is our witness;
you're mad 'cause you lost the election.)
As you slander the president's sanity
you exhibit your own inhumanity.
I would urge all you losers
and lying accusers
to listen to Savage and Hannity.
In your desperate drive to impeach
you would grasp what is out of your reach.
The infernal machine
steered by crazy Maxine
makes a nasty mechanical screech.
The Democrat narrative flounders
while our nation's own hateful confounders
promote red revolution
mob-rule as solution
insulting the faith of the Founders.
Though the state-sponsored media lie,
our beleaguered republic must try
to transcend inhumanity;
quell the insanity.
(Both wings are needed to fly.)
Aug 31, 2017
Aug 31, 2017 at 7:46 PM UTC
Ask me what I want to do, go fish
if I had a genie, it’s what I would wish
in the lake, river, creek or pond
eagerly cast next to a fern frond
Wiggle my bait and work it some more
hoping a fish cannot ignore
flipping up under docks
or the edges of piles of rocks
Working the tree stumps
waiting on a big thump
on my lure, adrenaline pumps
waiting for the end of my rod to jump
Bass, on Carolina, Alabama, or Texas rigs
crappie and pan fish I’ll catch on a jig
white bass and hybrids, on slabs and spoons
I have even caught them casting at loons
Sam Rayburn, Cedar Creek or Lake Fork
I’m getting excited just like a dork
Tawakoni, Amistad, or Nacogdoches
if I ran out of bait, man I would use roaches
Livingston, Stryker, or the Trinidad Lake
catching some fish, fry them up on a plate
bait cast, and spin cast, pushbuttons oh wow
I also can fly-fish, I taught myself how
Gar, carp and buffalo, anything that bites
looking for something to make my line tight
Matagorda, or Galveston, or Port A
I have no problems fishing the bay
Intercoastal waterway or out in the surf
no problems cooking surf and turf
Black drum, Red fish or Speckled trout
as long as they’re biting I’ll never pout
Whiting, and Croakers and even Hardheads
catching are fun, getting the slime off you dread
gaff tops are pretty, but just as slimy nasty
I’ve never had any, I hear their pretty tasty
Flounders are flat and so are sting rays
but if that’s what’s biting I’ll fish everyday
jacks, and mackerel and bonnet head sharks
so many fish in the ocean, that’s just a start.
How about invasives, silver carp and snakeheads
cast for the snakehead, jumping carp in a net
I’ve fished lots of bass, native and Florida strain
but there is one thought that sticks in my brain
Is I’d like to go catch some peacock bass
top water action would really kick ***
catch and release or serve it up in a dish
as you can see I really love to fish
Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 9:36 AM UTC
Fantastic fantasy flounders floundering in the fleece.
Fleeing fervent frustration faces, phasing in for free.
Final frolic frothy, frim and folly forth.
Felix feline fragranced friends and fluffy Faradays.
Apr 2, 2012
Apr 2, 2012 at 6:32 PM UTC