"glister" poems
A storm,
a sandstorm,
a blinding sandstorm!
Grits of gold
inebriated with a haunted hurricane
danced with a fiendish fervour
in its search for identity.
Glare of gold blinds,
grip of greed delirates.
Like a marauding butcher,
slivers of gold
gouged out your saneness.
You danced
like a possessed,
with the yellow glister
holding your hand to the funeral pyre of your created destiny.
Oct 21, 2018
Oct 21, 2018 at 12:27 PM UTC
~
*I cast my net
into the tributary
and release into you, a seasonal swim,
I give to you a mother's color,
as you recite
infant hymns,
you're a bleeder
on the days sunfire meters out its origin,
you're my river
free and clear from the grip
of anchorage,
my river,
drifted on to wherever
moon wishes glister*
~
Aug 19, 2021
Aug 19, 2021 at 3:09 PM UTC
the passing cloud in pale blue skies
the ocean wide that drinks your eyes
the sailing storm one summer’s day
the rain to kiss the blush of May
You
the growing rose in winter’s frost
the secret smile no sight wants lost
the lonesome tree down by the lake
the breeze that makes its foliage shake
You
the touch that is with sunlight crowned
the voice in which the sea has drowned
the stare which makes the moon glow more
the long lost wave to kiss the shore
You
the distant sigh that calms the screams
the hidden glister among the beams
the unseen path amidst the vine
a love for which the dreamers pine
You.
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 9:21 PM UTC
On what day did the Seeker, that foul-shaped gangly
Figure, weep and belly-crawl toward me
Forward winding? In craven eaves, in parsley fields,
I wrinkled sleeves, running, running,
A bare-foot straw sock stuck fast and wide
While crows were nodding, nodding, nodding.
The mansion breaks the parsley skirting; my mouth
Is panting, low, unsightly. A butter cloud of moths
Were dancing, and caught my cheeks with tender tags
Of sickly salt-pan glister. With baked stone walls I
Pushed the tail-bone, and time was wailing fast before
Me, it scratched my back into a cup of clawing,
Chasing fingers.
He seeks me still in wooden boxing, under sweating
Hands are shaking; time atop my crush of raven
Swings a hefty, dullsome, tune. Knees were pulled far
Up and rounded, domed and white, and jade, and black,
Stuck and stinking fragrantly, the skiddish slums of slime
Betrayed me- sleeves were ***** hot, and green.
With backbone slinking down the body, the clock
Grows loud with muffled strumming. In front, the crack,
The door before me, small enough to wholesome hold
Me, blanks the mansion's putty light. Arms that longly *****
The run trail, scoop a crackle from the door frame;
Ones that pester, hound and perish
With longing, longing, longing.
Jan 15, 2012
Jan 15, 2012 at 6:45 AM UTC
Do you see the lights when they glister over a quiet sea? Do you understand the snow’s twilight? Like this are the hearts of the unsleeping physician. They stand like trees but instead of leaves there are patients' faces and instead of chanting birds there are beating hearts. In that warm space, you see the flowers with colored wishes and merciful hands. There, you can touch the infinite warmth’s essence with worry eyes and hot pulses.
Instead of metaphors, the physician surprising innovation is the melodic compassion. He catches the remote lands valleys and from that magic universe, he brings a smooth management like a poet.
Mar 28, 2017
Mar 28, 2017 at 11:44 PM UTC
Where has our honesty gone?
The world is spinning out of perspective
Individualists
More like conventionalists
Wanting to be a free soul
Instead, we’re losing control
How do we define different?
“Different
A pseudo-polite way of saying something is unpleasantly weird or unacceptable” [www.urbandictionary.com]
What about individual?
“individual
Individual's may actually conform, just to prove that they are individual from other individuals...
There is no definition of an individual, for to define an individual is hideously oxymoronic.” [www.urbandictionary.com]
All of these rules and ideologies
Which become more like mythologies
Giving us a…what… purpose?
Because without one were all worthless?
How does the media propel
Drive some great minds down to hell
But wait, sometimes those scars
Are not the real person they are
What about the girl next door
Is she perfect? Or is she a *****
How come the prepped up ****
Gets a thousand girls to put his ****
-Y attitude towards
What about all those hipsters
“individualists” in all their glister
PROTOTYPES
We are always followed
“To be, or not to be”
Now THAT is a real question
Why cant we all just BE
F R E E
Within our own minds
Refuse ourselves to be confined
But no matter where we go
The world will be a tv show
[scripted and masked]
Because the crazy professor who screamed in the crowd
Did a small scene from a movie out loud
And the individualist across the street
Got her haircut from Georgia O’deet
While the artist down the road
Saw his painting when it snowed
Though its obvious we refuse to admit defeat
Individual doesn’t march to its own beat
Nov 7, 2011
Nov 7, 2011 at 1:42 PM UTC
Glister of the glasses shattered
The dream state of the masses scattered
Picture perfect was always tattered
But even so I pray my praise mattered
Others see what I adore so much
But none as I, all they seek is touch
I would too, but I seem to crutch
Because through this lens I can see a hutch
I wrote instructions on how to live and strive
But I cant read my own handwriting on how to survive
Without certain knowledge how can one thrive?
I know if I continue an end will soon arrive.
These once renown lenses shown a world
Kinda rose tinted but slipped and hurled
Cracks on the lens, the glass was curled
Disorienting sight that was swirled.
I'll leave the glasses there on the shelf
Until I can get up and find it myself
Nothing is perfect and no one is either
I guess it means this is now a breather
Apr 6, 2019
Apr 6, 2019 at 12:42 PM UTC
glimmering sunlight
danced o' er the lake's surface
in a glister's jig
Sep 21, 2021
Sep 21, 2021 at 6:00 PM UTC
Toward lower place, holy steps I set
Process, solely to pleasure you
On traverse an atman, to gaiety get
Nor nimble nosedive quantify free
Greater love; comparable, higher
Twinkle, flash, glister this treasury
Wholehearted welfare bid proceed
Serve solicitor, man’s nourishment
Assign an office, your eyes indeed
Devotional candle, clarity in light
Love is not debt, to which subscribed
Gliding pathway bearing orbit’s flight
Still, this I am helpless to choose
Why you here feel, as if sanctity
From every lover, which I did lose
Sparse conclusions, respect to heart
Luminary moment of sudden spark
Accept this love as forgotten art
Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 5:01 PM UTC
When you get older
Plainer
Saner
Wil you remember
All the things
You lost on us
It hurts me
More than you'll ever know
Wish i could go back
To the days i was lost on you
Night full of stars
Adrenaline rushes
The bittersweet taste of your lips
A cold gust of wind outside
Cigarette smoke around our faces
Eyes light and glister
Wrapped up blankets
Two glasses of malt whiskey
A fire in the burning in the hearth
And in us
A comforting arm
A comforting smile
It was good
But perfect can never stay
They pushed me,
And you away
You came back
So please come in
And help me remember
When you were lost on me
If I let myself
Love you
Feb 6, 2019
Feb 6, 2019 at 6:59 AM UTC
inject glitter in me and sprinkle me with stardust;
smother every inch of my body with a brilliant sheen,
maybe then I'll shine just as bright as everyone else.
Aug 20, 2017
Aug 20, 2017 at 10:50 AM UTC
In the whimsical arbitrariness of the sky, a beauteous star illumined distinctly—
that even when concealed by the vivid and sharp rays of the sun,
a brush of hint of your existence unceasingly radiates before my eyes.
Do you, of little stature in the eyes of many,
know how much I adore you for the way you glister?
Continue to scintillate— for a stouthearted like you must know how much value lies inside of you.
Never grow sullen and let nothing bedim you,
for in any turn of events you shall compose yourself my love.
Know that in times when you shine a little less bright than before—
I was already stricken blind.
Dec 26, 2015
Dec 26, 2015 at 1:22 AM UTC
Woke up to start a new day,
Glister shine of the sun on my soul.
Soothing water flows, river sing in water notes,
Birds chirping, astonishing melodies to the ear.
Wisdom of softness the wind would love to share,
Feeling the connection with nature as I stand and spread my hands in the air.
Glitter and glister, crystal clear the water sits still,
While am by the river bank at the bottom of the valley's hill.
Not a better feeling than inhaling the fresh breeze,
Get a whiff of the sweetness, oou, bless me I sneezed.
What a wonderful morning, and unaware of such demise,
LOVE
Is my morning's surprise.
Jan 22, 2021
Jan 22, 2021 at 9:53 AM UTC
angels of the solstice
gather on exalted cloudways
and descend as heliotrope whirlwinds
bejewelling leafless trees
with melting ice and dew
adorning in silence
they beckon verdant spring
when shimmering moonlight
will cease to glister on diamond snow
and winter's periwinkle gowns
shall withdraw into violet pillows
and then into silver streams of resignation
the tissue-paper sky is a luminous dome
veined with gold and pearl anticipation
the meadows are covered with gossamer blankets
that drink the sound of the ruby-red cardinal
like a sacrificial drop of blood on the velvet-white altar
offered for the birth of the first tender blooms
Mar 6, 2021
Mar 6, 2021 at 11:34 PM UTC
Dawn is an eclipse
Yawning from deep repose.
Light coughed up, a shimmer and a burp
Then a glister, a small belch
Followed by a hurricane, a furnace glow
Escalated to a simoom, a sunscaped lightning struck optical blast.
Occultation sun shine blindness
To darknesss hidden.
Dawn unleashed is an eclipse to darknesss looming
Until evening’s return
Stygian kisses quell,
Regenerate sleep and dreams, mending ways
Windless gloaming waxes.
Night is an eclipse
Awakening from thin poise.
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 7:37 PM UTC
oh with strings that play of spring and forgotten history
i’ve got nothing left to give to you,
forever your remained mystery
i’ll watch you go,the man of cold
my closed off mister
and the curtains will close
on all my truths untold
and i’ll Play for dimes of my moms green eyes
and listen to the cries of all my sisters
for all the times you stole my mind
send me for all the kisses
with strings that play of spring you’ll hear the ring of all my wishes
hear me sing of forgotten history
being your invisible mistress
and in a moment of play pretend
you’ll be my lustrous mister
but until then
i got nothing left to give you
but my melody’s awful glister
so i’ll play for dimes of my moms green eyes and listen to the cries of all your wishes
for all the times you stole my mind
send me for all the kisses
and maybe someday play for the eyes
of all of our dying sisters
Apr 5, 2025
Apr 5, 2025 at 6:34 AM UTC
Life is draining, when you give
your power away to someone else.
When you depend on a compliment,
or acknowledgment of your greatness.
You are greatness wrapped in a body
You are sacred, and a gift.
You are inhabiting the spark of God,
a creative force in a human form.
Take it. Run with it.
Glister in the greatness of you,
detached from dependencies
able to live your birthright.
Able to be a co-creator with Divine
in life filled with blessings and love.
Use the mortar of love
to have peace, joy, and harmony.
Jan 29, 2018
Jan 29, 2018 at 11:58 AM UTC