"fumy" poems - Hello Poetry

This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary The trees of the mind are black. The light is blue. The grasses unload their griefs on my feet as if I were God Prickling my ankles and murmuring of their humility Fumy, spiritous mists inhabit this place. Separated from my house by a row of headstones. I simply cannot see where there is to get to. The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right, White as a knuckle and terribly upset. It drags the sea after it like a dark crime; it is quiet With the O-gape of complete despair. I live here. Twice on Sunday, the bells startle the sky ---- Eight great tongues affirming the Resurrection At the end, they soberly **** out their names. The yew tree points up, it has a Gothic shape. The eyes lift after it and find the moon. The moon is my mother. She is not sweet like Mary. Her blue garments unloose small bats and owls. How I would like to believe in tenderness ---- The face of the effigy, gentled by candles, Bending, on me in particular, its mild eyes. I have fallen a long way. Clouds are flowering Blue and mystical over the face of the stars Inside the church, the saints will all be blue, Floating on their delicate feet over the cold pews, Their hands and faces stiff with holiness. The moon sees nothing of this. She is bald and wild. And the message of the yew tree is blackness -- blackness and silence

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36.3k

Sylvia Plath

The Moon And The Yew Tree

This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary The trees of the mind are black. The light is blue. The grasses unload their griefs on my feet as if I were God Prickling my ankles and murmuring of their humility Fumy, spiritous mists inhabit this place. Separated from my house by a row of headstones. I simply cannot see where there is to get to. The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right, White as a knuckle and terribly upset. It drags the sea after it like a dark crime; it is quiet With the O-gape of complete despair. I live here. Twice on Sunday, the bells startle the sky ---- Eight great tongues affirming the Resurrection At the end, they soberly **** out their names. The yew tree points up, it has a Gothic shape. The eyes lift after it and find the moon. The moon is my mother. She is not sweet like Mary. Her blue garments unloose small bats and owls. How I would like to believe in tenderness ---- The face of the effigy, gentled by candles, Bending, on me in particular, its mild eyes. I have fallen a long way. Clouds are flowering Blue and mystical over the face of the stars Inside the church, the saints will all be blue, Floating on their delicate feet over the cold pews, Their hands and faces stiff with holiness. The moon sees nothing of this. She is bald and wild. And the message of the yew tree is blackness -- blackness and silence

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* The fume A thick dark fumy cloud Dormant it lies, but often loud Precariously overhead, it flowed The sunshine of the life, it swallowed It rained, challenged by the mighty peak In the heart, It pained, to see it weak The cloud was small but heavy However dusty and floaty. The doom and gloom Embracing in its shadow In desert, plains and meadow Eclipsing the days, sunny bright Dreadful, with the darkening night With me, always hanging around When noticed, nearby it's found Haunting me with a sadness Flaunting its darkness A lot in the cloud explored Then consciously, It was ignored But dancing at the back of the mind Past hurts and pains, it put to rewind The boom and bloom And then, letting it flow across, I got immersed, In fine tiny droplets, the cloud dispersed, Now each droplet addressed separately Was dried in the shiny sun completely All of the cloud, dripped to evaporate Condensed eventually, as distillate My pains, by that elixir, cured, Alchemised me into 24 carat gold *

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Jul 19, 2017

Jul 19, 2017 at 9:24 PM UTC

jayantee

The cloud alchemy...24 carat gold

* The fume A thick dark fumy cloud Dormant it lies, but often loud Precariously overhead, it flowed The sunshine of the life, it swallowed It rained, challenged by the mighty peak In the heart, It pained, to see it weak The cloud was small but heavy However dusty and floaty. The doom and gloom Embracing in its shadow In desert, plains and meadow Eclipsing the days, sunny bright Dreadful, with the darkening night With me, always hanging around When noticed, nearby it's found Haunting me with a sadness Flaunting its darkness A lot in the cloud explored Then consciously, It was ignored But dancing at the back of the mind Past hurts and pains, it put to rewind The boom and bloom And then, letting it flow across, I got immersed, In fine tiny droplets, the cloud dispersed, Now each droplet addressed separately Was dried in the shiny sun completely All of the cloud, dripped to evaporate Condensed eventually, as distillate My pains, by that elixir, cured, Alchemised me into 24 carat gold *

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I am Jupiter storms Unabounded by time Raging on And eons Can not hope to confine me To unstable matter And mass Rearranging My molecules morphing To liquefied jewels And my surface A canvas Of unrefined fuels Like an abstract mosaic Of swirling Unfurling Tempests of archaic As constellations And the ages I've waited And slumbered and spun Into memories Faded And taken the names of your gods As my payment Inflating my ego's Mesmeric rotations So quick to claim hearts Of Europa's amidst My seductive, enchanting Illusory bliss Venture into my centrifuge Fumy abyss I have pressed up my lips Of a frigid, wet steel And then sealed With a kiss What ‘nary A planetary Can resist And as she revolves Around me And gives life Io dances about me, Callisto my wife Ganymede my seed And the rest of my progeny breed Future needs What the Earthlings will need To make up for their greed All will see Look to me In my enormity As my reservoirs Fill them With infinity

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Mar 30, 2019

Mar 30, 2019 at 3:44 AM UTC

michael-marchese

Introspections of a Celestial Overlord Unbeholden to the Paltry Laws of Physics

I am Jupiter storms Unabounded by time Raging on And eons Can not hope to confine me To unstable matter And mass Rearranging My molecules morphing To liquefied jewels And my surface A canvas Of unrefined fuels Like an abstract mosaic Of swirling Unfurling Tempests of archaic As constellations And the ages I've waited And slumbered and spun Into memories Faded And taken the names of your gods As my payment Inflating my ego's Mesmeric rotations So quick to claim hearts Of Europa's amidst My seductive, enchanting Illusory bliss Venture into my centrifuge Fumy abyss I have pressed up my lips Of a frigid, wet steel And then sealed With a kiss What ‘nary A planetary Can resist And as she revolves Around me And gives life Io dances about me, Callisto my wife Ganymede my seed And the rest of my progeny breed Future needs What the Earthlings will need To make up for their greed All will see Look to me In my enormity As my reservoirs Fill them With infinity

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The persimmons hung gorgeously orange And red off bare limbs Nature’s ornaments in December- They dropped, divine and ripe Juicy one by one On to the soft leaf litter Out of loving arms and all naked grey skies. This was my daily treat Landscapes of color and That tree at the creek corner road Stunning in fog As I obeyed the stop sign at least once Or twice every day In the darkest time-brightest joy Illuminating the fumy and spirituous, wet northern California days.. If I might bite that luscious fruit Stolen from someones tree Rest in the cool bay rain Slumber me Rock me In that sweet, Fresh petricor that bewitches Your mind before it washes your ripe skin. I was the wild mustard then. Everywhere at once in winter Corrupting ****** soaking earth Thunderous yellow Rising for an all too brief season Mistaking you for the sun

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Oct 3, 2016

Oct 3, 2016 at 1:15 PM UTC

elizabeth-reeves

Winter solstice 1969

The persimmons hung gorgeously orange And red off bare limbs Nature’s ornaments in December- They dropped, divine and ripe Juicy one by one On to the soft leaf litter Out of loving arms and all naked grey skies. This was my daily treat Landscapes of color and That tree at the creek corner road Stunning in fog As I obeyed the stop sign at least once Or twice every day In the darkest time-brightest joy Illuminating the fumy and spirituous, wet northern California days.. If I might bite that luscious fruit Stolen from someones tree Rest in the cool bay rain Slumber me Rock me In that sweet, Fresh petricor that bewitches Your mind before it washes your ripe skin. I was the wild mustard then. Everywhere at once in winter Corrupting ****** soaking earth Thunderous yellow Rising for an all too brief season Mistaking you for the sun

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I don’t see anything wrong here! She yells There’s nothing fumy about keeping this one Nothing wrong with having love n’ him around The only obsession is you and the lines you ring There’s a bliss in this opening, so stop fuming it Quit fighting it or be the one I’ll forever loathe Have you ever want n’ needed a thing so bad That at night you find it so damning to sleep I’m just okay in his arms, n’ she turned in Resentment and walked to her delights He hiss n’ shook his mind at her mistake As a stench of foul memories filled its wake A man may be good and alive in the morning But becomes unnoticed as the evening comes So do not sacrifice yourself so much, he hissed There is nothing else you can do or say, it insist When this temptation bring in its extinguisher The sourness of its lust will be bamboozling It does not matter how sure she is, he says The trick is as long as you know the truth And who he really is; lest you say more For the affairs of man is always a path He follows. So fuel the painful urges Grasp it till you can struggle no more For life comes as a mirror; no matter how Long a lie may live; the truth always reveals For what’s a man without his potter; a broken What is a mother without a son – heartbroken But there’s a silver lining to every dark cloud That if heavens took care of fools n’ drunks They sure as hell qualified for both counts That if he took to works n’ abhor his ways Whose duty to ask why or even cry foul Who’s the judge to have him cut down Who has the right to read his sins aloud Who? It kills him that passion he once felt Now lies in broken shards – wounding him Each time he tries to grab it again – a soldier His life, he cannot have it as he wants it to be A lone, so he just wanders alone in the crowd As her delights struggle to keep his sun down He does not answer em – he dare not to fight He just go about n’ rise; defeating their gees And their frowns; they live and yet few die Some cave n’ drown their souls in lament But he lives to tell a story, wisdom lives To feed them his glories “TRY LOVING YOUR ENEMIES AND YOU WILL SLEEP PEACEFULLY AT NIGHT” Archimandrite Andreas

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Aug 14, 2019

Aug 14, 2019 at 9:14 AM UTC

MinusculeEgo

Sleeping with the enemy

I don’t see anything wrong here! She yells There’s nothing fumy about keeping this one Nothing wrong with having love n’ him around The only obsession is you and the lines you ring There’s a bliss in this opening, so stop fuming it Quit fighting it or be the one I’ll forever loathe Have you ever want n’ needed a thing so bad That at night you find it so damning to sleep I’m just okay in his arms, n’ she turned in Resentment and walked to her delights He hiss n’ shook his mind at her mistake As a stench of foul memories filled its wake A man may be good and alive in the morning But becomes unnoticed as the evening comes So do not sacrifice yourself so much, he hissed There is nothing else you can do or say, it insist When this temptation bring in its extinguisher The sourness of its lust will be bamboozling It does not matter how sure she is, he says The trick is as long as you know the truth And who he really is; lest you say more For the affairs of man is always a path He follows. So fuel the painful urges Grasp it till you can struggle no more For life comes as a mirror; no matter how Long a lie may live; the truth always reveals For what’s a man without his potter; a broken What is a mother without a son – heartbroken But there’s a silver lining to every dark cloud That if heavens took care of fools n’ drunks They sure as hell qualified for both counts That if he took to works n’ abhor his ways Whose duty to ask why or even cry foul Who’s the judge to have him cut down Who has the right to read his sins aloud Who? It kills him that passion he once felt Now lies in broken shards – wounding him Each time he tries to grab it again – a soldier His life, he cannot have it as he wants it to be A lone, so he just wanders alone in the crowd As her delights struggle to keep his sun down He does not answer em – he dare not to fight He just go about n’ rise; defeating their gees And their frowns; they live and yet few die Some cave n’ drown their souls in lament But he lives to tell a story, wisdom lives To feed them his glories “TRY LOVING YOUR ENEMIES AND YOU WILL SLEEP PEACEFULLY AT NIGHT” Archimandrite Andreas

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Dive into this sea rustle just like me! Fumy foamy me sloshing surging we jingle jangle jee fringle frangle free! Flipper flopper flee widdle waddle wee sweeter tweeter tea swopper sweeper *** dive into this sea rustle just like me!

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Aug 25, 2025

Aug 25, 2025 at 4:02 AM UTC

Zywa

Narumi

Dive into this sea rustle just like me! Fumy foamy me sloshing surging we jingle jangle jee fringle frangle free! Flipper flopper flee widdle waddle wee sweeter tweeter tea swopper sweeper *** dive into this sea rustle just like me!

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