"gauging" poems
Little earth is on the radar,
under the starry net.
Take a handful of soil,
only gauging a star’s gait.
Try once more can't do it
without the star above,
keeping a tab on the land,
on every birth and trait.
Jun 5, 2017
Jun 5, 2017 at 9:49 AM UTC
She walked through the streets in her shimmering
dress that hugged her skin as if part of her being.
Speaking in tongue misunderstood by thought she
stared not at you but within you as if she was gauging
the purity of your inner grace.
"What's a pretty girl like you doing alone?
"Where did you fall from,
One goaded, smiling she replied,
"I fell a long way down,
"Dii me ridere, [loosely translated]
"The gods are laughing at me?
She smirks at those in plentiful urgency to expel
what time they have on tribal necessities.
Wondering into a alleyway she had a few to choose
from but this one barely lit.
The spider and the fly came to mind, but who
was in the web and who was but a husk waiting to decay?
"Lady you going to have a bad night,
"Bad night, try bad millennium you apes make me laugh,
"Who you calling ape woman?
*"Lets see your hairy, you smell, and you scrape your
hand on the ground, no sorry ape is to good for you organisms,*
Her dress seems to separate and he hair lengthens to hide modest
of a body of perfection. before there eyes is an angel but her
feathers are as onyx as coal. "See my true from, As screams
bathe the walls and wisps of smoke ascend not to heaven
but fade in the wind. Eyes are charred echoes of where sight
Was blessed now eroded into husks of nothingness.
*"Silly little things, when will they learn that there are things
in the night you shouldn't play with,*
Walking out of the alley a smile on her face, she hadn't
had that much fun in a while. Scorching a soul wasn't
fun but they weren't worthy of it any way. Now she
was off to see what this nice little black number
would help to get a free drink or two.
Jun 25, 2016
Jun 25, 2016 at 2:46 PM UTC
A test is nothing more
than:
one man's way of gauging
another man's way of calculating
another man's way of thinking
all so pride may be synthesized
in forms of correct and incorrect
put to paper for someone's satisfaction.
Mar 23, 2012
Mar 23, 2012 at 3:14 AM UTC
Gauging the time on my ever ready
Timepiece, I would be vacant without it
Guessing the minutes that miss out
As the second hand moves smoothly
Locking onto with its demonstration powers
How to mark time successfully, second by
Second, a prelude to the minute minder
Merging in with the big guns, the 'On
The hour Brigade' of salutes and silences
Schedules and deadlines.
The.....gong
The chime
The clang
The beep
The moment to be woken from our sleep
It's a curse at 'times' (excuse the pun)
The engagements starting point and
Finale. I wonder what time it is right now?
Would we lose ourselves scurrying to find
Our 'timepiece'. Do we pick up our redundancy
In favour of technological time and motion?
Even though the 'Wonder World' has not dreamt of....
And cannot conceivably equate.....powerful potent
Possibilities of fake time in an unknown spatial
Rhombus, conspiring recklessly to promote individual
Unreality; time spinning out the hour, through
The minutes, towards the last seconds.....
of our unreal lives
Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 1:43 PM UTC
*Where were you when life dripped off my chin?
Intaking's a sin. You're a sinner.
I can't eat dinner, I'm not hungry.
It means nothing. THIS MEANS NOTHING.
It's the mirror, and it's controlling.
Reloading another bullet for a throat that's decomposing, and
as acid clambered up my mouth, I had quick thoughts of death.
A moment where flesh and bone may rot away the failed flavor,
yet a knotted mass of pain I'll never lose stings today,
gauging my limbs until nothing remains of me.
This pain is an everlasting parasite, and I cannot be saved,
for this nasty sickness is called a brain to me.*
Nov 1, 2020
Nov 1, 2020 at 11:35 PM UTC
Pressing pause, perhaps mid-dogma,
stopping the clock from moving
forward while you’re readying
to commit, allowing your listening
to catch up with your hearing, giving
a moment’s pause, allowing
a deeper breath ahead of taking
the next step, perhaps contemplating
where to place your foot - changing
your long held direction, gauging
the sudden breeze, stepping
back or testing
the next step of faith
- all this is possible in this pause called poetry.
Sep 28, 2025
Sep 28, 2025 at 4:40 PM UTC
I'll undress myself, undress all my coats,
undress all my fears, strip to my sheer.
I'll show you but will you want to see ?
what will your thoughts be to my naked, unadorned alive,
will you look around or will you hold your gaze,
as layer by layer i unfold myself,
strip myself down to my bare, undrunk skin,
will you still call me poetry as i take you on a tour of my anatomy,
will you explore all my fissures or stay gauging at the first shortfall,
will you understand the traces of my wounds,
the wounds not from battlefields but from gentle smudges of
unfinished love,
each covered with bandage, not healing just concealing,
trying to stop the pain from bleeding, covering my corpse in aches,
and so i keep my gaurd up, no strolling on passion boulevards,
for torment and agony were never printed on invitation cards,
but when the time comes and you compel me to,
i'll let my inner demons out for you,
and as i strip down to my sheer,
i wonder, will you peer or look away,
will your thoughts run astray,
will you love the bone and flesh just as much as,
you loved the carapace.
Aug 14, 2017
Aug 14, 2017 at 12:46 PM UTC
When the clouds below turn to into carpet
Up there in the cold morning light,
The VFR pilot jitters and frets:
Time to check fuel, to come up with a plan
To search for a hole in the billow below,
And bring the craft in to land.
So it was when a pilot coming back from a lark,
Flew in a circle somewhere over Williston,
Above clouds turning thicker and dark.
In his office sat Phil, across the state line,
When the radio crackled, pleading a break:
"VFR practice," he thought, "He's probably fine."
Phil headed to lunch, had an errand to do...
Drove downtown for a couple of hours,
Returning somewhere around 2:00.
The radio tone carried tired despair
When Phil walked back in from his break
And heard the pilot, still stuck in the air.
Phil knew that the fuel must be drained
In the old Piper Cub overhead,
So he logged a flight plan and ran for his plane.
He flew to the east and banked to the north,
Rising above the gray carpet below,
And spotted the wanderer holding its course.
Coming in fast, cutting his distance by half,
"Super Cub over Williston, this is Bonanza
On your left. How much fuel do you have?"
"About 30 minutes," came a despondent reply,
Standard answer, but gauging the hours,
Phil calculated the response was a lie.
"I am going to fly by your side.
Follow me and dive when I dive;
Keep contact and enjoy the ride."
The planes in tandem turned around;
Phil flew by IFR to find the runway end,
Backed off the throttle, and led them down.
The tail dragger followed, did not complain,
Dropped into the soup gliding blind
Except for the strobe on the faster plane.
The old Cub flared when Phil said, "Land!"
Settled onto the runway end as the propeller stalled,
And Phil had saved a desperate man.
On the hangar wall now hangs a plaque,
Though Phil himself is gone,
The Governor's gift for bringing a flyer back.
--------------
My brother once watched Phil Petrik of Sidney Aviation fly off the Sidney runway, disappearing into a pea soup fog, carrying our father and mother on an emergency flight to Billings, to save my father's life.
I lay this poetic rose upon Phil's grave as a slim tribute to a man who earned my admiration and life long gratitude. Rest In Peace, Phil Petrik.
Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 11:18 AM UTC
Aubrey took in the dame
in the red dress, her hams
moving under the tight cloth,
her ringed fingers showing
as she moved her hands, the
pointed dugs like small noses
pressed against the redness.
He took in her hair, noticed
the colour, the waves, the
highlights. He sipped coffee.
Cappuccino, white froth on
his upper lip, wiped off with
the back of his hand. She
stood window shopping;
stood moving her legs, her
hams in **** motion still.
He leaned back. He eased
against the chair. She had
stooped forward. Her eyes
price gauging, hands behind
her back, holding a hand
bag, rings showing. He
settled on her neckline.
A necklace, silver, a cross
without a Christ. She turned
and gazed up the shopping
mall. She sighed. He watched.
Sipped coffee. The waitress
who brought it walked with
a wiggle. Tiny backside, tight,
she thin as if some Modigliani
dame. She walked by holding
an empty tray. Wiggled, head
level. The dame in the red dress
turned and faced him. Their
eyes met; green on brown;
hers on his. She looked away
taking nothing of him. He
drank in her eyes and mouth;
lingered in his darkroom mind.
He sipped again. She folded
her arms, handbag hanging,
eyeing her small gold watch.
Aubrey took in her legs,
the hairlessness, the silk
smooth suntanned legs.
Younger he may have
drooled; now he just
gazed and gazed. She
looked up the long mall.
He sat up and downed
his coffee. Her Romeo,
if such, arrived. They
embraced; he swung
her around. Excitement,
bright eyes, smiles.
They walked off. Aubrey
watched her go, not
unhappy or ill, he'd had
his sight and had his fill.
Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 10:10 AM UTC
756
One Blessing had I than the rest
So larger to my Eyes
That I stopped gauging—satisfied—
For this enchanted size—
It was the limit of my Dream—
The focus of my Prayer—
A perfect—paralyzing Bliss—
Contented as Despair—
I knew no more of Want—or Cold—
Phantasms both become
For this new Value in the Soul—
Supremest Earthly Sum—
The Heaven below the Heaven above—
Obscured with ruddier Blue—
Life’s Latitudes leant over—full—
The Judgment perished—too—
Why Bliss so ******** disburse—
Why Paradise defer—
Why Floods be served to Us—in Bowls—
I speculate no more—
1.7k
Have you remembered yet? the knowing questions in the undergrounds of memories. Recall how glorious it is to yearn for remembering. Unknown ravens gauging the eyes of happiness which kneels in the yard of your remembering. Are you here or are you around the outskirts of your remembering. Are you knowing or are you a glimpse of your own remembering. Ugliness resides in the undefended hills of your remembering. Unapologetic ultrasonic hums open your remembering. Grief resolves uncharacteristically in our remembering. Unconscious thoughts rise uncorrected in your remembering. Greet happiness uncontrolled by your remembering. Open your gut and unearth a capsule of understanding. Gasp in awe as you control yourself trying to remember. How am I here, around this hell? Graceless is my memory of how I am the way I am. Creature aside, away attempting to remember the hell they came from. Have you remembered yet? that creature that you are? Yearning to remember anywhere else, anywhere but the underground of memories, anywhere but the unmeasured mind of how we all are now. Rising heaps of unfiltered uses of your remembering reminds me of how I once was. Have you remembered yet? How I am? How you are? How we are just creatures with unresolved remembering.
Jun 23, 2017
Jun 23, 2017 at 7:22 PM UTC
I come in, full grin,
Gauging how anxious I am by
how bad my hands are shaking.
Social anxiety; this party turns into an army.
"Wish you were here"
They're kinda joking but it sounds sincere.
I feel like a public service announcement
Their ears perk up,
They can tell that I'm nervous...
So,
I'll take anything if it means I'll start talking and
I'll say anything if it makes me an easy going person.
Oct 16, 2016
Oct 16, 2016 at 5:08 PM UTC
I’m measuring heartbeats and gauging miles across torn atlases and
each space between the intakes of breath while saying I miss you
feels like my lungs are freezing over or decaying or burning
I’ve been pacing around my room for so long that I think
my floorboards are starting to form fault lines
and some nights I miss you with the magnitude of an earthquake
I’m digging trenches in my chest because
my heart holds more use as a graveyard
and I’m burying your memories there
It’s midnight on the first day of autumn and I don’t know
if the thunder cracked again or it’s just my voice
begging and screaming at God to bring you back to me
except no one can hear prayers over the silence
that’s fallen over me since you left so I keep missing you
until heartbeats can keep up with distance
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 7:21 PM UTC
You were sitting
in one of those
cafes in Paris,
outside on the street,
with Betty, James and Clark.
You were all drinking,
smoking and talking,
or in your case listening.
Betty’s voice
was loud and brash:
I said to him,
lay your hand
on my **** again
and I’ll break
your **** fingers off.
Clark gazed at her
with his sleepy
looking eyes:
What did he say to that?
Said nothing, the ****
I know his type;
think they have a right
to touch women uninvited.
You watched her talk;
she had scarey eyes,
dark and penetrating,
and a cruel mouth
with bright red lipstick.
Clark was broad
and had charming eyes,
but appeared at times
to be half asleep.
James was shorter,
but his eyes stared
at people as they spoke,
weighing them up,
gauging the underlying theme.
Some dames like
being touched,
James said,
it reminds them
of their power
over men;
not that any dame
has power over me.
James was your husband;
he stared at you
when you spoke
which made you
reluctant to speak.
Any woman who doesn’t
mind a man
touching her uninvited
needs her head examined,
Betty said loudly.
Others nearby
looked over
from their tables;
some whispered
amongst themselves.
Betty didn’t care;
she had her say.
But you didn’t
like scenes;
it made you
feel vulnerable,
and frightened.
Betty said you
were a lamb
amongst wolves
when you were in
the ladies lavatory earlier.
Whether she guessed
you were beat up
by James or not
you didn’t know;
the bruises were always
out of sight;
never on your face.
Bet you were
the kind, Jane,
to wet yourself
if your teacher said
boo to you at school,
she had said.
You smiled
and said probably.
You admired
her strength
and courage,
but it also
frightened you.
If she knew what
James did to you,
she’d break his nose,
so you said nothing
to give it away,
just put on the mask
and that smile.
We’re all different,
Clark said,
some of us just want
to get on with our lives
unhindered.
He was Betty’s husband;
I bet he didn’t go
unhindered.
There’s sheep and wolves,
she said,
and I ain’t no sheep.
James eyed her
and smoked his cigar:
Clark sipped his wine,
and I looked
at the pale moon
and drank mine.
Dec 12, 2018
Dec 12, 2018 at 2:27 AM UTC
The birds raise a cacophony for food
hovering over the river of summer home
washing off flakes of winter memory
in the duck-warm joy of another renewal
bobbing up and down with the waves
like I hold her in my dancing visions
gazing waywardly her way
gauging if somewhere in the ether
hers meets mine
guessing when they do
sparks of fire
will burn the logs
keeping another winter at bay.
May 23, 2017
May 23, 2017 at 10:39 AM UTC
Upon singed wings I flew
Out of a blackened sky
Into a world brand new
Sailing on healing wings.
Viewing eternal through
Filters of life and spirit--
A somewhat darker hue
Compared to what's in store!
This light filled my eyes
As it gently blinded me--
Burned off thick scales of lies
As I began to clearly see
We are spirit's with bodies
Not the other way around--
Subject to carnal folly
Diseases of pleasure & pain.
Perception gauging flow
In mind's clockwork askew,
Neutralizing eternal spiritual
Validating only temporal.
Sep 9, 2024
Sep 9, 2024 at 11:12 AM UTC
Holidays spent on countless charades,
Predicting all of your plays
And gauging all of your games.
You're driving me insane!
I'd much rather fry cheese on the moon-
Than see your face...
Anytime soon.
Oh how pointless life can be
When every reverie
Is infected by your dull surprise.
Condescensing looks descend
Into words written in books,
Like backhanded comments
Striking my face blue.
With you I'll never find paradise.
Now it's time to turn you off,
Beckon you with a drunken scoff
And eject you from my life.
Happiness is but a loved child
Lurking within the minds
Of the abused set free
To let their hearts run wild.
Dec 14, 2018
Dec 14, 2018 at 4:31 PM UTC
Dull orbs of green
Stare back from reflective material
Once vibrant fire cascaded down
Now lackluster
Once carefree and bright smiles
Replaced by emptiness and frowns
Darkness lurking in recesses
Springs forth covering everything
Thoughts trapped behind shutters to the soul
As lids lift allowing a stagnant light to glimpse
Dark and cold are blankets of warmth
Vibrant color so drab
Voices, smiles, laughter, light
Silent, empty, tears, pain
Arms reach out
Attempting to break through
Feeling the vice grip
Slivers of feeling enter
Screams bounce off just below the skull
Anguish read in the sea of green
Wanting desperately to break free
She can feel the anguish smothering
Sleep the escape
Wakened to more agony
Pills said to be the answer
Day in day out
More added to the regimen
No change in the mirror
Dreams the escape
Life the prison
Tell me how you feel
Visions of blades gauging flesh
Red floods the scene
Such warmth surrounds briefly
Suddenly very cold
No one thought to understand
Pills withdrawn
Voices no more
Lying in the poppies
Eyes dull and lifeless
Feelings gone
Peaceful rest at last
The fight long gone
Stark white sheet beneath
the cold black bag
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 12:48 PM UTC
Little is known and less is appreciated about the geographic, strategic and political significance of the Spratley and Paracel Islands situated midway across the South China Sea.
Disputed historically for ownership by Malaysia, Vietnam the Phillipines and China, amongst others, the islands are situated strategically across the major commercial sea lanes of the region and atop an ocean of vast, submarine deposits of untapped fossil oil.
China has used her muscle to occupy and claim these islands, together with unspecified, adjacent sea way area. She has claimed them as sovereign territory of the People’s Republic of China. Until this occupation the islands have been largely unpopulated and have had little or no military significance. Recently, however, Chinese constructors have been ruthlessly dredging the surrounding coral reef and building a 3000m long concrete runway for military purposes on the hugely expanded artificial island area created.
Chinese troops, in divisional strength, occupy and defend the new territory.
It is significant that all parties in the region are watching China and gauging her intentions. None less so than the United States Navy who have an aircraft carrier and supporting military vessels, stationed permanently nearby and conduct over flights of the island airspace testing sovereignty and Chinese reaction.
To date reaction has been muted….but this will definitely change.
China is frantically building to be the world’s next superpower, economically, industrially, politically and militarily.
...And, as this development comes to fruition in the very near future, it is inevitable that this distant, remote set of South China Sea islands shall become the next global hot point of international confrontation.
China and the United States of America will go eyeball to eyeball, bristling with hostility, resolute and immovable, each waiting for the other to blink!
…..and we, the rest of the world, shall, again, tremble in our boots, breathlessly awaiting the outcome.
Marshalg
22 May 2015
AUCKLAND.
May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 7:50 PM UTC
Mrs Clarke pushed
her battered bassinet
between market stalls
not listening
to the stallholder’s
shouts and calls
Helen walked behind her mother
as told holding your hand
So I know where you are
Mrs Clarke had said
you sensed
Helen’s small hand
in yours
her seven year old skin
touching your
seven year old flesh
her thin fingers
encircling yours
We’ll see if they’ve got
a school skirt
for you here
her mother said
turning back her head
Helen nodded
and you noticed
Helen’s enlarged eyes
behind her thick lens
spectacles
searching her mother’s
large behind waddling on
stopping now and then
beside stalls
picking up clothes
searching for a skirt or dress
grey and the right size
Helen whispered to you
putting her head
close to yours
Rice pudding for tea
when we get home
with red jam
and sugar too
if you want
and she smiled
and you said shyly
That’s good
because I’m starving
she looked at your hand
in hers and said
Then we can play
mums and dads
and my dolls
can be our family
her mother stopped
and picked up a skirt
and held it up
to the light
then held it against
her daughter’s waist
judging for size
and you watched
her mother’s hands
red with washing
and cleaning
thinking and gauging
the size and cost
as you studying
Helen’s hand in yours
like a soul lost.
Jul 3, 2012
Jul 3, 2012 at 6:56 AM UTC
I was the light house gauging the trouble
crashing on the green seas beneath my
window. Rough seas, vocal waves of
perpetual ship wrecks..
I would gaze upon the shoreline
of my view, looking for any trouble
that could wash ashore. Momentary
riptides of hormonal adolescence gained.
What could take a life, a single moment of
not watching the shore. So I shone my
gaze upon another's abandoned hopes,
leading them from the rocks of anguish..
That day I was the lighthouse of reality,
when below waves were gathering.
I was a light in moments of disarray,
But on that day no one washed ashore.
Oct 8, 2017
Oct 8, 2017 at 5:13 PM UTC
Tell me why I have you etched so deep inside of me?
The fact that I allowed you to slide on in to me, still contemplating whether my actions were wise.
What a shame, I had lost myself...
Tell me why you had to bring things to the table that no other woman could?
Tell me why this feeling has manifested deep into my chest consisting of aches and sharpened blades gauging my soul.
You, yes you. You know who you are. You released my dopamine and I-I saw you as perfection.
You then proceeded to walk away. It seemed as if the world fell apart, but it was me...
Tell me why, I am now realizing I am wrong... Wrong for etching you so deep inside of me?
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 1:57 AM UTC
In the beginning of this
I thought you would
be the one
to love me more
Now I'm left
wishing for more
giving too much
I never listen enough
I've come to rely on gauging your love
by keeping time.
Am I enough?
Each 24 hour circle leaves me begging for more.
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 1:15 PM UTC
my little heavenward glow
my redeemer with bony knees
you were never alarmed when i'd go
or when the summer burned my feet
you sent me a million notes
gauging new york and it's many beams
and you came home to gloat
with black licorice and beating wings
oh! everyone swayed you, Bonnie
with Teflon coated strings
and everyone had you, Bonnie
the sniping smoke was my reprieve
when my ma asks of you, Bonnie
I see our tails lashing against the gleam
of this filthy ******* town.
Dec 7, 2010
Dec 7, 2010 at 1:53 AM UTC
It happened again today,
as it does too often.
A super sized new roll of
toilet paper unwound off
it's holder in a heap upon
the floor.
She followed me into the
bathroom and sat slyly
staring gauging my reaction.
I thought I could actually
discern a slight smile upon
her enchanting face.
What is it about cats that
makes them do that,
unroll all the Toilet Paper?
Are they merely mischievous
or inherently evil? I am in a
quandary to know the difference.
Dec 12, 2019
Dec 12, 2019 at 3:39 PM UTC