"furtively" poems
*erstwhile a halcyon extant universe incessantly ceaseless
cradled itself in hues of violet phosphorescence
laced with cobalt shimmering stars
perpetually whole it nonetheless
sought to know itself
encompassing all that is bubbling over in effervescent ebullience
intertwined with indescribable catastrophic splendor
it shattered into tens of millions of splinters
of eloquent efflorescent light
shining in the night
each splinter heretofore imbued with sempiternal felicity
began to conjure sumptuous dulcet elixirs
furtively seeking out savory emollients
to mollify the pique of separation
plummeting they fell
into monstrous competition seeking demesne they lost the purpose
of gaining awareness and intelligent consciousness
surreptitious estrangement overflowed
deluging them in excruciating agony
thus an epiphany was born
the carving of the beleaguered fragments inked with tremendous pain
created a transfiguration of splinters to crystals
hence enlightenment commenced as the gems
magnetized together constructing a world
where omnipotence shines
the ineffable beauty formed by the reintegration of crystals
far exceeds the original as they dazzle with universal light
bursting from diamonds etched in deep wisdom
flooding the firmament with kaleidoscopic
rainbow strobes cascading the sky
©2016janetaylor
May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 1:23 PM UTC
A fueling, flashing fulgent, furnace, fulgurous, frothy, fumes and feathery flakes,
I do not speak of waves of snow, hoary frost, or ice, a cold gelare or even frozen lakes!
Formidable, furrows, fructifying, functioning fruition to foremost fondly found a flaming,
I revel not in such destruction but choices for my naming!
For flowers flow fields forever, forswearing funneling fjords finitely, fire fray’s forests furthermost,
Instructing in the arts of language, for I am your gracious host!
Fakir formulates factious forms fading flummoxed into fury, a fugacious fusible and furtive fleeting feigning furiosity,
A deep ditch dug, tight as pug, wrapped blanket snub though not a flub, all perspicacity!
Finds frosty frore a frozen freezing faction for fusty flaming feasance,
Fomorian fantasy of formidable faggoting, facient up to fancying, fancying, furnaced flesh fluidity finds itself factitivity, facets for fabulists from the faint familiarity,
Relating cold to heat as such, requires but a human touch, apologize I do you see for all my clueless severity!
Fans of all the falconry, who fallow fields of family, falter for a fallacy, falling into infamy as forgone flame frontogenesis, fatigues a Faustian felony, for which fate finds is fastigiated foolery, febrile features featly and yet furiously, favonian fear of fellowship fiendishly, figures foal to fatherly, finally fiddle flinchingly, although not so too furtively;
I finagle in my filigree!
Jun 20, 2016
Jun 20, 2016 at 1:13 PM UTC
They kissed there for the very first time.
Their hearts pounding as the storm lashed the trees.
They made love there furtively on the grass.
The first humans to ever make love.
Five decades later, their grand kids stood there, a faded b/w picture in hand.
The old windmill smiled.
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 4:59 AM UTC
I hear a wind whispering from the hills
It comes down tickling the woodland rills
From far is heard the frightened murmur of leaves
As it pounces on them like wayside thieves
It shakes the branches of flowering trees
And their weak petals drop like confetti in the breeze
Over hills and trees it loves to skip and stray
Always in motion, never inclined to stay
It moves unhampered over streams and field
With no resistance to its might, they simply yield
Like a child, it romps over the sloppy meadows
In its gentle touch, dances the gleeful flowers
It skillfully pleats the blue chiffon of the ocean
Sometimes curling waves in electric motion
Over the sea it runs puffing up the sails
And over the sky heaping clouds in bales
Sometimes it steals furtively like a lover
And disappears kissing our cheeks under cover
Often it comes capering with a lilt and a swing
We feel delighted when we hear its merry song
Like a nomad, the wind roams from place to place,
Hiding its mysterious presence from our glance
From an unknown hide out it comes like a spirit
But always making us feel its vigorous might!
At times it gains force and roars like a beast
Felling trees and wreaking havoc with its twist
In rampage, it sweeps the sea and the ground
Triggering sparks of fear and horror all around
Oct 27, 2017
Oct 27, 2017 at 9:43 AM UTC
Our lunar orphan has but
Reflected light to offer
As does a monolithic orphanage
With cold harsh policies
Being furtively undermined
By beautifully wise children.
Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 11:23 AM UTC
One day, you’ll fall deeply and irrevocably in love
with the nape of the neck and the lobe of the ear
you’ll want to nibble just above the edge of the jaw
and run your fingers through the tousled spirally hair,
but the slight quiver of curved lips will halt you in thoughts
as the darting pupils furtively flutter behind closed eyelids
searching for a break of dawn in the shadows of a room
where dust hangs heavily then settles in unsuspecting lungs
making the rise and fall of the chest raspy and laborious,
making nostrils flare up to make room for something less heavy
something more familiar, more light and less lugubrious,
something like a touch on the curve of the neck just below
the edge of the jaw and a whisper of something gentle
that nibbles on the ear as erring fingers run through spirally hair,
sending waves of shivers that make curved lips quiver and
darting pupils flutter enough to one day break open closed eyelids
where you’ll fall deeply and irrevocably in love.
Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 2:26 PM UTC
she closes her eyes
as the nightmares flash
she screams
and wake up in cold sweat
her heartbeat accelerates
as she glances furtively
around her dark room
frightened and terrified
as she lies back on her bed
she keeps her eyes open
in fear of the dark
the unknown lurking there
yet another night of hers
where her sleep was disrupted
just like any other nights
its a wonder how she hasn't gotten used to it
she prayed and wished
to escape this state of insomnia
even if it was comatose
she wouldn't mind
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 3:30 PM UTC
#
Floating brazier spews electric amber waves
as a setting sun radiates on the ceiling
a shadow of a ship coquettishly sways
while in the center charybdis begins swilling
another message, another missed call
another debt collector and his esurient talk
watch the ship begin to swirl, this scene so banal
amber feathered tawny eyed peacock
continues furtively to scroll her story and shoe shop
crowded room with a panel onstage
reality and fantasy evaporate and fall as a single raindrop
drown in the muck, don't know how to disengage
and to stay in the sway of fantasy.
#
Sep 28, 2018
Sep 28, 2018 at 9:41 AM UTC
The wind is violent,
Knocking, flapping and rustling,
Slapping, tumultuous
Rolling like waves
I am swept
Savoring the mad sea-breeze
Savoring life
Rolling the sweetness on my tongue
Palm fronds slap delicious
A storm is brewing
Ocean spray spits smartly
Birds give way
Mother Nature is respected here
Nothing is contained
To the Queen we all bow and give way
Glance furtively under slit lids
Perhaps her wake, her eye will pass us by
With no more than a slap or tweaked cheek
Her notice, her scornful gaze
Can turn our hearts to waste
Our lives to dust
Our ocean mother laughs at the weak
Barricade of glass
Her tinkling laughter can shatter dreams
But oh, her majesty
What glorious banners she weaves
To trail her horizon is fool’s folly
Her train may wreck,
Her abuses bruise us
But to behold her wake, her glory
Her tresses, her face
Risking defeat and death is
A small price to pay
Surfing the wind, surfing the sun
After all nothing remains the same-
And my life is but a mere passing dust speck
In the mote of her eye
Keep me here fair queen
Bowed by your feet
Please don’t rub me out-just yet
All sadness departs when I hear your music
In the rustling flapping of leaves
The ocean roars and thunder booms
Your symphony oh sweet dear
Your symphony this day
So priceless to pay
Melon rolls sweetly on my tongue
Drops of honey linger-a **** tang
Like a mermaid lying beached upon the sand
Gathering in the ancient hush of the sea
These rumblings of the planet
Sea spray bathing my face
Foam like the spurts of ***
From a loved one
Lovers embrace
The rhyme and song is ancient
I feel a soft hush rumbling lullaby
Sea song siren cry
The rhythm and lull
The beat like ***
An ******** crescendo
Again and again-my heart beats in rhythm to hers
The goddess of the sea
Surfing the sun, surfing the wind
Rays like waves splash my face.
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 7:26 PM UTC
When the Present has latched its postern behind my tremulous stay,
And the May month ***** its glad green leaves like wings,
Delicate-filmed as new-spun silk, will the neighbours say,
“He was a man who used to notice such things”?
If it be in the dusk when, like an eyelid’s soundless blink,
The dewfall-hawk comes crossing the shades to alight
Upon the wind-warped upland thorn, a gazer may think,
“To him this must have been a familiar sight.”
If I pass during some nocturnal blackness, mothy and warm,
When the hedgehog travels furtively over the lawn,
One may say, “He strove that such innocent creatures should
come to no harm,
But he could do little for them; and now he is gone.”
If, when hearing that I have been stilled at last, they stand at
the door,
Watching the full-starred heavens that winter sees,
Will this thought rise on those who will meet my face no more,
“He was one who had an eye for such mysteries”?
And will any say when my bell of quittance is heard in the gloom,
And a crossing breeze cuts a pause in its outrollings,
Till they rise again, as they were a new bell’s boom,
“He hears it not now, but used to notice such things?”
2.4k
AMERICA, THE BEAUTIFUL?
Were you aware that our nation opposed Haiti's revolution for democracy in the early 1800s; that our nation's war against Mexico that began in 1846 resulted in our taking half of Mexico for ourselves; that our nation defeated Spain ostensibly to liberate Cuba, but actually established a military base on the island and furtively gained de facto control of its puppet government; that our nation seized Puerto Rico, Hawaii, and Guam; that our nation had fought a brutal war to subjugate the Phillipines; that our nation had opened Japan for trade with us with threats and gunboats; that our nation created an "Open Door" policy with China to exploit it economically; that our nation engineered a revolution against Colombia to create the nation of Panama so we could build the canal through it; that our nation sent 5,000 Marines in 1926 to Nicaragua to counter their democratic revolution; that our nation in 1916 intervened in the Dominican Republic for the fourth time; that our nation in 1915 intervened in Haiti for the second time, and so on. Imperialism, not democracy, steered our nation's decisions and movements.
Did any of you learn about, let alone study extensively, any of these flagitious Ameican acts and policies as you sat and squirmed in your high school American history class? My surmise is that you did not. But I bet you were required in at least one of your classrooms sometime between 1st and 12th grade to stand at attention, as it were, and recite the Pledge of Allegiance as you saluted the flag in the corner. My riposte: What does it matter if our flags are waving, if our spirits are flagging?
Epilogue: Most importantly, never forget that it was the two evils of slavery and genocide that propelled our nation into what once was the most influential nation on Earth.
Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks
Jun 26, 2020
Jun 26, 2020 at 8:52 PM UTC
I arrived--
though I needn't a formal invite,
for you and I, we are two old friends.
Companions walking along
a similar trail.
The leaves distort and distress the
yellow and gleaming light of the
victorious Sun, who has once again
conquered Night and all
her iniquities.
Scents and colors fill the air,
pinks and reds and greens mix and match
and blend together, forming
a rich atmosphere of synesthetic remarkableness.
Each atom and molecule
of the wind
shivers and shakes atop their
invisible chariots,
perhaps the true location of Atlas
and those great, big hunks of
shoulders;
"Man, what a man."
Take it because you know you like it--
we are social creatures,
creatures of logic
of habit
creatures of horribly idiosyncratic and idle instinct,
rulers of fleshy bodies
which we hardly understand.
The Sun grimaces as it
retreats back to the negative air,
once again,
not to poke its radiant face out until
the next morning.
The Moon came shimmering out,
smiling furtively and compactly,
looking down like
my oldest confidante.
After all,
who else but our fair
Luna atop the stars
is the keeper of all our deepest
and most primal
secrets?
In the cover of her noxy cloak
we sin and hide,
pushing every secret under and between
the cracks in her space,
patching up time and
keeping dark and brooding Atlas
good company.
"You're one of the few great guys."
Oh, my fat and failing Atlas,
lover for the Night and
of my night,
you are a temporary stop on
my trail,
a brief twilight in my
life's journey.
The Sun creeps its
spindly, golden fingers under
the cloak of the Moon,
Night: the stitchings and
sewings of the sins of mortal men.
Playfully, the light stretches out,
first dancing along the stage of the horizon,
then inching closer,
desperate for living contact,
for the greatest warmth of
over 2 billion hearts
all beating at once--
perfectly,
in time.
Our world is a note on
this Cosmic sheet music;
you are barely a splotch on the sheet.
Our existence is the single beat
out of infinite others,
without a beginning but
possibly and end.
I know that
there will be twists in my path,
bending and curving to avoid the
stars' wrath and the Suns'
might,
but,
might it be
that our two trails
are simply
not meant to meet?
Jun 16, 2012
Jun 16, 2012 at 3:55 AM UTC
Sleep is magnificent
its powerful arms,
gripping us. holding us.
furtively. enclosing us.
in its vast embrace of solitude.
We were sleeping
regardless of the time, and the heat,
emanating from our bodies.
Our bodies, cramped onto a bed
with legs intertwined
and pillows everywhere and
blankets hiding our faces.
The serenity, the solidarity
amongst us.
To simply sleep.
Nothing more, nothing less
simply to lie in the embrace of the other
with eyes closed, but bodies closer.
Such is the power of sleep.
To bring two individuals together,
to bring two souls together.
Aligning their heart, their minds, their bodies
to love each other.
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 11:01 PM UTC
Lilac-scented winds
furtively creep through
the window, rhythmically
stroking the lily-white hair
that rests upon her hunched
shoulders.
Thin levees barricade
the emerging seas of salt
as the stationary clouds
dissipate from the
sapphire ice crystals that
encircle her inky
pupils.
Beneath her round,
brittle cheekbones
ancient ravines wind
downwards toward
her steep, narrow
chin, pointing at a
skeletal frame blanketed
in an off-white, floral gown.
Blotchy, autumn, amber
hands cradle the pudgy
infant’s limp body. She
smiles as she presses her
chapped lips on the baby’s
smooth, plastic head.
She leans back in her
chair of solace, rocking
back-and-forth to the
pulsating tempo of her
heartbeat. Her world is
in perfect harmony.
May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 10:07 PM UTC
I go back to that place
Through the green door
Enter the red brick house
Mikhu is still the little fairy
My eyes look for
And still my shyness
Forces me to look away
In her mother's presence
In the faraway attic
She furtively cooks me a meal
We make love
That brush our skin faintly
When I come out
She stands at the green door
Then upon the here
She is no more
Jul 21, 2016
Jul 21, 2016 at 12:28 AM UTC
In a queue for the tube a man is on fire
flames climb up his collar
as he waits for his train.
But he stands unaware
of the smoke filled air
instead he checks his melting watch
and impatiently taps his burning foot
ignited by angst over his delayed route.
The woman by his side tries to tell him to cool down
tries to tell him he's burning
but she can't, she's drowning.
Water soaks up her suit
and seeps through her skin
so that she's coughing and spluttering
and sinking from within.
Two colleagues across the platform pay careful attention
to this storm and from it form conversation,
they judge the gentleman's irritation
and questions the woman's suffocation
but fail to notice the cause of each other's frustration.
Only the driver as his train pulls in closer,
witnesses one co-worker being blown over
whilst a rat races furtively up the other one's leg.
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 11:33 AM UTC
It sat there, as still as the dead, waiting. It had to keep very still; it was listening, waiting for the right feeling. It checked, cocking its head to the side. Nothing yet. If it could huff, it would have. It had been there all day yesterday and all night. Waiting. It shook its head; the sun would surely be out soon. It suddenly felt a bit insecure – would all this work, this art it had worked so hard to build, be for nothing? It shifted its spindly legs; it was getting uncomfortable just waiting. It stretched them out long, then retracted them once again. It was still listening; still waiting. How much time had passed? A minute? Two? An hour? It wished it could tell time. Yet, it acknowledged, it didn’t need to. It could make art, and it could eat and it could walk. That was enough it really needed, in the end. It admired its artwork this time – really admired it, with its sweeping symmetry and complex patterns. It had simply outdone itself. It felt quite proud, and might’ve rubbed its legs together for joy, if it had not been for the small vibration it felt. It paused. It titled its head left, maybe it could hear more that way. Nothing.
No; wait. There was something…yes! It licked its lips.
Quickly and with so much joy it could hardly contain itself, it scrambled up from its position between the apex of the leaning wooden shovel and the wooden wall of the little shack. It felt the vibrations more furtively now, and that just made it crawl all the faster. It scurried until it finally reached its prey.
Once, it almost felt sorry for the poor thing. But that once had been long ago, and now, it knew the wickedness of the world all too well. It had to take every chance it got when it came to spinning. It approached the buzzing creature with compassion. It spoke in hushed tones as it slowly wound the fly in its silk – a soft lullaby of peace and serenity. The fly seemed to like this, for it yawned and almost drifted asleep. Slowly, so very slowly, the fly’s multi-lensed eyes drifted closed, a calmness coursing through its body. Suddenly, the fly's eyes burst wide open.
Oh, the taste! What a delicacy this was, oh what wonderful juice! It lost itself in a haze of crimson. Nearly torn apart in ecstasy, it smiled, teeth glowing with what little moonlight there was. The fly stared back at it, aghast and eyes filled with cold, dead fear.
This was its favorite part.
Dinner.
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 3:25 PM UTC
how might my reality be redefined
by slipping furtively
like a hapless lover
disentangling midnight sheets
fleeing past pathways of my own psyche
to see the view from her mind’s balcony
to inhabit intergalactic eyes
sparkling and shining like supernovae
every time she parts scarlet lips
in defense of the helpless
i'd plant gardens inside her irises
water the seeds and invite the bees
to pollinate fresh thoughts and rejuvenate
an energy that could illuminate new theories
about the cosmos and its inhabitants
i want to dwell within
corridors of infinite imagination
bridge the synaptic gaps
across rivers of lapsing memories
a lackadaisical adventurer
adrift in neurological galaxies
ingesting erudite insight
i yearn to build a home
inside the mind
of a poet
an activist
and a bona fide genius
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 12:04 AM UTC
Frz have you forgotten me?
I hear your voice, but its me saying do not listen
Anyway I say, how are you?
the court records a divorce, a child, and a republican,
You were once a brooklynite, a beloved chassid gal, so hollow to hide, have you moved upstate?
me? maybe inappropriately concerned
I dreamt we will meet one day.
I see you, you see me, then run away furtively,
I race head long, trying to catch you, to touch you at last.
Mind numb, you duck in the LGBT centre. I stop.
Leaving you to minds damnation and hell, a palace of fears, fool for years, you lead me down some steps, through an alley, open a gate, and smile,
stay here, you say, between two buildings.
I sit next to the garbage cans against a wall with leafless vines, its the first snow, you never said when you'd be back.
It is now a year before I die, cars roll by noisily, far off a lone siren, someone is digging in the garbage for scraps, it seems impossible that inches away you were within my reach
Dec 16, 2018
Dec 16, 2018 at 2:35 AM UTC
I sat with my attention deep into the computer screen
As he came back with two biscuits on a paper towel
"do you want one?" he asked
and a little line was crossed of caring I haven't had
in a long time and I was afraid, like a feral cat
reaching out furtively for a treat offered by
a concerned lover of the feline and
I reached out slowly for it, pink chipped nails
and fear, overcome
and he feeds feral cats around where he lives
a man who feeds cats...I never thought I'd know one
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 9:29 PM UTC
Slept all night.
Brain wide awake.
Body woke.
Shaking.
Wrapped in sweat so cold.
Dreamed
As if non stop during darkened hours.
Meeting in the graveyard.
Cemetery of shame.
Necropolis of long dead regret.
Pursued by gang without escape.
Feral kids exuded terror.
Petrified as long dead tree.
Heart created in stone.
Eons of ancient history.
Step taken furtively.
Begging to be set free.
Let go.
Space invaded by fear dressed in denim.
Misgivings unforgiving.
Scared near to dying.
Heart beating manically.
Scarred by memories of neglect.
Painted hatred on a memory stick of sorrow.
Maybe brighter in the morrow!
Cruelty in dreams.
Unbearable.
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 2:59 PM UTC
For years I have waded in plenty, fingers
Wrinkled with the evidence of fulfillment. Belly
gross with abundance, I birthed discontent
again and again.
I became blinded, eyes watery with
With surplus, reflecting only quantity.
I praised commerce heartily ad infinitum
Bending my knees in supplication to
its institutions. The Mall, The Supermarket,
were holy ground.
I have lost my faith, and think, sacrilegiously,
of summer afternoons in the mountains.
There is no text beneath the painted dusk.
Twilight falls without a sponsor. I do not
Enjoy Coke. I look, furtively, for places
Visa isn’t, and drink tap water
when no one is looking. I remind
myself that rainbows don’t taste of candy
and that M&M;’s have melted in my hand
smudges of color I can’t seem to wash away.
Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 9:13 PM UTC
*Is dalliance a sweeter state
Due to it's evanescence?
As human beings do we just seek
Ephemeral acceptance?
Or do we yearn eternity
And dwell on it erstwhile
Knowing that our truer selves
Will furtively beguile?
Is affection what we deign to be
A dulcet, soft concession
A short reprieve, a known repose
For sanity's repression?
How much is conscious harmony
How much is chemistry
And what then for the subtle myth
Of serendipity?*
Aug 24, 2015
Aug 24, 2015 at 9:52 AM UTC
*3 mice on the tin roof
though their minds were on food
an impulsive id drove them
they swung to different mood!
I warned myself here no poetry
no story to make out of it
let them have in privacy
a good time bitterly sweet!
3 mice on the tin roof
swayed by their id
I should have stayed aloof
and not watched them in greed!
I told me there’s no poem
in the 3 mice and their id
leave them alone with their game
but my greed paid no heed!
It’s not civil not nice
to act a peeping Tom
see furtively the 3 mice
breaching all courteous norms!
3 mice on the tin roof
to me I had this to say
go your way stay aloof
and not venture on their way!*
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 7:14 AM UTC