"glistering" poems
Grey Sunday afternoon.
Rain is fallen glistering gloom.
Inside it's warm and cozy.
Time for writing and relaxing.
Watch a movie and some texting.
Even when this day is grey.
Smile and have lovely Sunday.
Jan 24, 2016
Jan 24, 2016 at 9:19 AM UTC
august’s withered days swing from view.⠀⠀
flicker of a breeze caresses earth’s cheek.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
crinkle of a leaf, a wail beneath your feet.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
a wispy veil of dew covers the dried remains of a summer’s past.
treetops glistering, vibrant golden hues⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
first flicker of daybreak rising slowly.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
an infant’s feeble cry of autumn’s might.⠀⠀⠀
Sep 25, 2018
Sep 25, 2018 at 6:41 PM UTC
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america, americultus, americate, dubiously **********
::: our gold-flecked bodies.
blackbirdian danceparty, i'll go.
washed-up beach bottles and all our feet amongst them curling time.
teens dream in orchid; they wait for stars and dark and los hombres of good dust.
they wait on eyes, and on embers, on belly belly.
jellyfish flashlight shrine.
we eat acid and strawberries and butter in the cemetery,
and feed foxes lizards face first :::
us lost ghouls on school-nights.
flash tag jazz, and yellow bicycles.
::: that hot eternal light.
that candy colored smoke don't smoke; go south on her body.
then thoughts form thoughts form action, form twangs all tuned to air.
& we, as notes, we notes harp like light
to dust.
our glistering hormonal thrusts beneath sheath of liquid love. her eyes,
with those multi-speckled strands
infinitesimally drunk :::
seed from my ****
pearled halo: smoke above my head.
::: waves and machines and weekends. filtered by the long ****
of existence.
boys wait in rooms of hotels for more drugs, and the girls bringing them.
like caterpillars on silky thin treadways,
with nothing but the flavor of our passions to ignite the way. we
exacerbate the boundaries of our intentions. we
curl under sheets, bending sheets of light and sound. we
flakey emaciated flakes. [sequence suffered time in motion] we
dirt. it’s what we are; dirt.
we are druggernauts, tasting ourselves along the iridescent brim.
::: we crawl up cross-glowing hillsides toward portals and faraway
bleep-blorps of hot god-head calibration.
we sticky-crackle go burn. [nature puzzles]
the brain shifts back; twenty-one grams they say the soul weighs.
they say things.
cherry blossom tree tips in the dark.
tele-portal surfing with an intergalactic pizza priest, and his satchel of secret sauce.
he heaves in the corner; rebirth :::
tendrils pulled tight, everybody **** chung…
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 3:44 PM UTC
That day we came
and having come
lapped at by perfumed light
at once separated.
We bathed in the pool
the water like crystal
in the sunset
our limbs like glass.
On the bank
in the hot conjoined air
we made love again
our sweat
like silver in the moonlight.
the water's suppurating flow
drew our limbs
like flotsam in the reeds
grappling glistering lilies
as we floated in slow, ********
currents.
along the bank, the Camphor
shades the forest flowers
through the long-leaved grass
the python slinks
We leave for home
darkened by the sun..........
tongues digging into melons,
pomegranates laid out
neatly for dessert
******* out the Rambutan-
once the hairy skin is peeled-
fiery, red
the soft core sweeter than coitus-
and stays longer in our thoughts.
is this where the dreams are,
or where the dreaming begins,
between the first caress
and the final gasp of satisfaction?
Where the threshing limbs
devour the sun-shredded wheat
and the panting ribbons of air
swallow the final sigh-
the sleek river flowing
seaward, ocean marshalling
the land,
coral languishing in green pools
of broken light.
Here, within this infused beauty,
********** has power
beyond the weather-bound senses
of our northern homes,
encased in dull precipitation
sunshine a blunted knife
beyond the pot-shaped mountains
high above the trees
like a tear emerging from the sky
drops the waterfall
its descent
languid, its fall sharp and effortless;
tinged with azure, carefully sprinkled flakes
it spreads out like a clear, chiming puddle.
There we spread ourselves
naked in the sunlight
the sea's rumbling noise
distant and fumbling-
spreading its curling claws
into the slyly forming sunset
in reiterated rhythms
like beating hearts
like lungs-
the carefully manufactured beats
blending.
Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 10:28 PM UTC
Perfecting the Art of Illusions
I've been told I am a Mystery
A rare commodity
A secret jewel intrigued by my glistering ways
That's good
A blimp I will remain
As my inner thoughts relieve my convoluted brain
But what am I thinking?
Is the question from a thousand tongues
And like a thousand suns
My words burst with molten magma
Melting your mind to a liquid mesh
No longer having a being
Eyes blinded by the over bearing rays
No longer seeing
Shouts from the thousand acres earthquake
No longer hearing
Only a touch remains
To feel a chocolate covered artifact
Formed by the selfish cell fish
Fighting the class of the sea fish
Aug 19, 2015
Aug 19, 2015 at 6:29 PM UTC
Come, Madam, come, all rest my powers defy,
Until I labour, I in labour lie.
The foe oft-times having the foe in sight,
Is tired with standing though they never fight.
Off with that girdle, like heaven's zone glistering,
But a far fairer world encompassing.
Unpin that spangled breastplate which you wear,
That th' eyes of busy fools may be stopped there.
Unlace yourself, for that harmonious chime
Tells me from you, that now 'tis your bed time.
Off with that happy busk, which I envy,
That still can be, and still can stand so nigh.
Your gown going off, such beauteous state reveals,
As when from flowery meads th' hill's shadow steals.
Off with that wiry coronet and show
The hairy diadem which on you doth grow;
Now off with those shoes, and then safely tread
In this love's hallowed temple, this soft bed.
In such white robes heaven's angels used to be
Received by men; thou angel bring'st with thee
A heaven like Mahomet's paradise; and though
Ill spirits walk in white, we easily know
By this these angels from an evil sprite,
Those set our hairs, but these our flesh upright.
License my roving hands, and let them go
Before, behind, between, above, below.
O my America, my new found land,
My kingdom, safeliest when with one man manned,
My mine of precious stones, my empery,
How blessed am I in this discovering thee!
To enter in these bonds, is to be free;
Then where my hand is set, my seal shall be.
Full nakedness, all joys are due to thee
As souls unbodied, bodies unclothed must be,
To taste whole joys. Gems which you women use
Are like Atlanta's ***** cast in men's views,
That when a fool's eye lighteth on a gem,
His earthly soul may covet theirs, not them.
Like pictures, or like books' gay coverings made
For laymen, are all women thus arrayed;
Themselves are mystic books, which only we
Whom their imputed grace will dignify
Must see revealed. Then since I may know,
As liberally, as to a midwife, show
Thyself: cast all, yea, this white linen hence,
Here is no penance, much less innocence.
To teach thee, I am naked first, why then
What needst thou have more covering than a man.
2.2k
She is
The heart of poetry,
The cynosure in art,
The spirit of love
That renews honesty.
More precious than
Jewels of God,
mesmerising
arch angels in the centre of heaven having more love than two hearts combine, she's alive and so are we as she imbues us with her life.
The roof is only a foundation, the sky above our heads is the ground beneath her feet and still she is down to earth.
The sun reside within her chest, glistering as she stands, with eyes made of pearls gaze into them and witness fields of elation emerge,where harmony is the ying and melody the yang.
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 2:06 AM UTC
the glass cliffs of the city
echo to the sound of an adrenalin rush
motor cars, buses and trucks
all in the fast lane
hectic the movement on the streets
not a second goes by without a noise filled beat
the scurried hurry
of pedestrians
all of whom are bound
to a full on gait
the quietness of a bush landscape
is a locale slow in time
there a soul can unwind
walking at leisure
through a wood of countless trees
taking a pause along the way
to listen to the hum of bees
birds twittering
their caramel tunes
catching sight of a squirrel
nibbling on an acorn husk
the glistering sun upon the river's trace
nothing can beat
the countryside's space
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 10:08 PM UTC
Under the glistering sun,
she plunges into the deep
finding her soul once again.
She holds her breath
and continues to descend.
Only minding her thoughts.
Only wanting to be free.
She glides and she flies,
as if dancing and being one
underneath.
Until it's time to go up
leaving all her secrets and
fantasies beneath.
Jul 6, 2021
Jul 6, 2021 at 10:40 AM UTC
There is poetry
in nature.
The way you
breath is poetry.
Meandering of the
river is poetry.
There's poetry
in rainfall.
The songs of
the wind is poetry.
The harsh anger
of the cyclone
is poetry.
There's poetry in
a child's laughter.
The piecing eyes
and the toothless
grin of a
child and the
elderly is poetry.
Poetry is written
everywhere,
even in glistering
star in the
galaxy.
Beauty is poetry,
and the ugliness
of discarded things
are poetry too.
There's poetry
hidden everywhere
you look.
The art of
cooking is poetry.
The heart expresses
itself in poetry.
Love is poetry.
Life itself is
poetry written in
the sand of time.
There's poetry
everywhere and in
everything,
if only you
can look.
©2019,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Apr 4, 2019
Apr 4, 2019 at 2:54 PM UTC
Beholding the Stone
All is held in a stone
The shining glistering light
Picked up by a child
Hoping in a dream
Never doubting
Stone kept in treasure boxes
Jewels of the innocent
Found in obscure places
Walked over by Kings
A sign of hope, wealth
and prosperity
Holding the mysteries
Of the ancient times
Where life seem to stop
All around the world
The stone sits still
And fading memory returns
Beholding the beauty
Of truth, justice, and judgment
Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 2:43 PM UTC
Bella was young, Bella was fair
With bilious green eyes and velvet hair
Her face a work of art
Made her creator's eyes squint and fall apart
Bella never let my filthy tongue near her silent heart.
My Bella, she loved nothing more
Than to be a sled one had to grind
Through a desert of white, a sea of ice
He pulled her all over frozen fields, past the last of crystal trees
And then he hid her in the glistering white of nature's eyeball.
For my Bella, I'd always find time to mourn
Addicted to hazy cigar heat and first-degree burns
But dreaded thoughts of her lovely chest freezing to death
Ultimately sent me on the pointless quest
Of searching for Bella in her icy mess.
Bella never saw the dozens of dead dogs
I had to leave by the wayside
She turned to me at the end of this cruel ride
And said: 'George, be careful what you preach
You might be feel cold, but I don't
'Round here, you're looking at nature's peach
And for me, it's right by the beach!'
Feb 22, 2018
Feb 22, 2018 at 7:00 PM UTC
Beijing’s Child points at the white clouds flying, veils in the somber sky, to the moon under the yielding tree’s red lantern, he is absent-mindedly playing with his brown braids. He pictures himself abroad, by other long shores turning the pages of his dear illustrated book when a fired fish jumps up to the skies clad in its rainbow scales, glistering. Under the yielding tree red lantern
Beijing’s Child rubs the green ginkgo Although the snow, winter’s daughter plucks the feather leaves of her silvery coat....
Was it the wind, messenger of the west that brought the Biloba bird until Ta? Under the yielding tree red lantern
He thinks about it sprouting, seed of the past. The Child whose name means pagoda lives over the gates of the shining sun chanting to the elements songs and lullabies,
Under the yielding tree red lantern.
And when Earth vibrates under the storms when the frightened men rise their damped eyes the child wraps his body with the veil of the stars I hear by the mounts his voice and his augurs. But the tree was cut down and cannot offer its sweet sap anymore the red gleam has faded long ago of the marooned torn by time book only one thing remains, and it is a dream.
Because, at bedtime, as the world is sound asleep the child pours a golden powder to the souls. Stay awake at night because the Child of Beijing will enchant you until your morning!
Written in French in Beijing, October 20, 2011. Translated on May 9, 2014 Lyon, France
Nov 28, 2015
Nov 28, 2015 at 9:01 AM UTC
In speculating a plumage’s stinging or sorting
yesteryear’s chromosomes glint of antiques
resplendent as rivulets at The Moonlit Square
that shimmered beneath penumbras of fear
A stained moon foreshadowing
Jahan Ara’s Chowk for Silver Wear
The canals blocked, choking with Change
Glistering new arrivals, effusing of Change:
the tryst carries grave integrity within veins
branching across peninsula for pumping reigns
Ours is the Strange Acquiesce
where a fledgling’s plumage unfurls
toward velvety notes of wealth
A perennial disruption of equilibrium
From Smack to Silk Route till Here
Before Iwans, Jhajjharis, or intricate Basti
its plumage swayed from Golden Age
burdened through pronouncements as
Gujarata-Pratihara; Pala; Rashtrakuta:
the peninsula that sustains formidable histories
shall commemorate edifices lost by centuries
Together We Ruminate: What state must it bear this day?
traversed across periods
sorrowed by time
plumage seeks to retire
in search of rhyme
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 1:58 PM UTC
She danced beside the fire
While he watched her from his position
The floor glowing like hot coals
And resonating in their glistering eyes
To make amends for her misfortune
He showered he with many pleasures
But the girl did not once hesitate
For she desired a luxurious life
As the embers turned to ash
With the ghostly crescent set in sky
The nightlife emerged from their rest
And danced to the sight of the moon
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 5:52 PM UTC
i.
Daughter of God
Apple of heaven;
How saccharine
Thou art; mine
Rose of leaven.
ii.
Hallow, thou art;
Glistering child.
Thine strand's
Art dark; an
Onyx stone
Mile.
iii.
Haunt mine mind,
Cometh on in; forget
Past time's, soulmate;
Best friend. Anew we
Hath become: where
brook's of spirit arriveth
By the sun.
iv.
None needing, nor want's
None falsehood here;
Or clown-like stunt's,
Just the purity
Of thine tender kiss.
v.
So wish thine wish,
And dream thy dream's;
When thou shalt wakest
Up: thou shalt be staring
Into the eye's of thy king.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( Filipino rose)
Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 7:42 PM UTC
Her tears scared of love
Glistering in the moonlight
Like the many stars above
Shining bright like rhythmic lights
Dancing to the cold wind
Feeling free like she always is
Fending away wolves, fragile like a hind
With good night vision, she sees with ease
Superficial wounds she nurse
Deep cuts of the heart
Blessing or a curse
Slowly tearing her apart
Mar 8, 2015
Mar 8, 2015 at 12:12 PM UTC
COME, stand in utter rain
with utter joy
what looks wet is not you
nor the world
but a haiku
Come to spring fields
wrap yourself with the glistering glee
what starts a lulling glow within
is not your senses
but a haiku
Ride on the coolest wave in summer
traverse over the hottest stretches
what soothes the tropical world
is not a breezy saunter
but a haiku
Hang in mid-air like haze and trickle in awe
some things would thaw, some things would snow
what dances with the sun rays under the sky blue
is not the warmth of nature
but a haiku
Sep 21, 2012
Sep 21, 2012 at 7:17 AM UTC
spring has finally made her entrance
blooms unfurling with colour to show
we've waited for the delayed appearance
pinks yellows and purples on stems dance
in the warming breezes of the North's trow
spring has finally made her entrance
tiny leaves on elm branches balance
gardens now blossoming by the row
we've waited for the delayed appearance
even paddocks are flush with green stance
along the river flats they do smarty glow
spring has finally made her entrance
eyes taking more than a passing glance
the landscape tied in life's sprouting bow
we've waited for the delayed appearance
somewhat late her arrivals enhance
she adds glistering hues in pretty throw
spring has finally made her entrance
we've waited for the delayed appearance
Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 9:45 PM UTC
in the dark of the night i heard the thunder
i saw an empty alley filled with smoke
i felt the rough bricks of an un-built wall
as i searched for a leader to call king
the one who would rule with his golden soul
the kingdom from the castle to the stream
as i looked into the babbling stream
once again i heard the rolling thunder
shaking the foundations of my own soul
as i watched my world fill up with the smoke
the desolate legacy of my king
i built my self a protector; a wall
from the new found safety behind my wall
i listened to the warble of the stream
drowning out the voice of my once hailed king
a boom resonating like the thunder
i once had heard, dispersing the smoke
to reveal the treasure held in his soul
i saw the glistering gold of his soul
Through the gaps in the bricks which built my wall
down the alley i could see no more smoke
but i could see no more fish in the stream
and i could no longer hear the thunder
as i saw my world, taken, by the king
with a menacing smile the ruthless king
laughed as he stood, without his golden soul
ruler of my world, king of the thunder
his armies approached, to take down my wall
The bricks falling, flying into the stream
as once more, my world darkened with the smoke
now thicker, halting my breath i saw smoke
through it i saw the shadow of the king
roaring, laughing as the dust filled the stream
i reached out before me to take the soul
the glistering gold from the ruined wall
and i felt myself fall to the thunder
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 5:03 PM UTC
I never wanted to be a character of your novel but an inked odyssey of your words left unspoken.
I never wanted to be the star of your life but your inner star gazing novice.
I never wanted to be the light of your life but a glistering ray to hew the gloom you hid within your *****
I never wanted to be a smell of a splendiferous bouquet of flowers but a soothing petrichor.
I never wanted to be the drizzle of ephermal joy but a downpour of eternal bliss.
I never believed in any space but being the aura of one another.
In a world so materialistic I believed in nothing but something very realistic for which, I afflict no more!
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 10:44 AM UTC
They come in twos and threes
Glistering silver seas
Overwhelming nausea
Worsen anxieties
I feel so far apart
Separate but not separated
How can I rest in peace?
When I am here resting in pieces
May 6, 2019
May 6, 2019 at 10:49 PM UTC
Love is like a moonlit tide,
Soft, sinuous, deep, and wide.
Wild torrential currents hide
‘Neath her pretty glistering eyes.
Love is like a battering flight,
Of angels ‘scending through the night,
Ascended me soft spoken plight,
Deceptive in their glow’ring might.
Love is like a blackened stove,
Not heeding ash nor threat of Jove
Who spoke to Vulcan in his dome,
“Make me spears to light up Rome.”
Love is like a tabletop,
Concealed so that remaining slop
From greedy children faces mop
Away not to be seen a drop.
Love is like a poor man’s show,
In Italy as we all well know,
Where the beggars drop their load
Into the ******* *** and po.
Love is like a newborn child,
So innocent, meek, so mild,
Yet all p’tential for hate and vile,
Love is like a newborn child.
Love is like a stupid man,
Who heeds not life nor past, the hand
Been dealt as many times to count,
Love is like a stupid man.
Love is like a silly woman,
Thinking herself better off in ruin,
Having dealt too much and little felt,
Love is like a silly woman.
Love is like a stormy sky,
That in its fury seeks to cry,
To drop the drops of spring again,
And flower life about the land.
Love is like a simple thing,
So honestly in her degree
She speaks of things so tenderly;
Love is such a simple thing.
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 11:51 PM UTC