"glooms" poems
this is the garden:colours come and go,
frail azures fluttering from night’s outer wing
strong silent greens silently lingering,
absolute lights like baths of golden snow.
This is the garden:pursed lips do blow
upon cool flutes within wide glooms,and sing
(of harps celestial to the quivering string)
invisible faces hauntingly and slow.
This is the garden. Time shall surely reap
and on Death’s blade lie many a flower curled,
in other lands where other songs be sung;
yet stand They here enraptured,as among
the slow deep trees perpetual of sleep
some silver-fingered fountain steals the world.
34.7k
Often I think of the beautiful town
That is seated by the sea;
Often in thought go up and down
The pleasant streets of that dear old town,
And my youth comes back to me.
And a verse of a Lapland song
Is haunting my memory still:
“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
I can see the shadowy lines of its trees,
And catch, in sudden gleams,
The sheen of the far-surrounding seas,
And islands that were the Hesperides
Of all my boyish dreams.
And the burden of that old song,
It murmurs and whispers still:
“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
I remember the black wharves and the ships,
And the sea-tides tossing free;
And Spanish sailors with bearded lips,
And the beauty and mystery of the ships,
And the magic of the sea.
And the voice of that wayward song
Is singing and saying still:
“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
I remember the bulwarks by the shore,
And the fort upon the hill;
The sunrise gun, with its hollow roar,
The drum-beat repeated o’er and o’er,
And the bugle wild and shrill.
And the music of that old song
Throbs in my memory still:
“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
I remember the sea-fight far away,
How it thundered o’er the tide!
And the dead captains, as they lay
In their graves, o’erlooking the tranquil bay
Where they in battle died.
And the sound of that mournful song
Goes through me with a thrill:
“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
I can see the breezy dome of groves,
The shadows of Deering’s Woods;
And the friendships old and the early loves
Come back with a Sabbath sound, as of doves
In quiet neighborhoods.
And the verse of that sweet old song,
It flutters and murmurs still:
“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
I remember the gleams and glooms that dart
Across the school-boy’s brain;
The song and the silence in the heart,
That in part are prophecies, and in part
Are longings wild and vain.
And the voice of that fitful song
Sings on, and is never still:
“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
There are things of which I may not speak;
There are dreams that cannot die;
There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak,
And bring a pallor into the cheek,
And a mist before the eye.
And the words of that fatal song
Come over me like a chill:
“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
Strange to me now are the forms I meet
When I visit the dear old town;
But the native air is pure and sweet,
And the trees that o’ershadow each well-known street,
As they balance up and down,
Are singing the beautiful song,
Are sighing and whispering still:
“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
And Deering’s Woods are fresh and fair,
And with joy that is almost pain
My heart goes back to wander there,
And among the dreams of the days that were,
I find my lost youth again.
And the strange and beautiful song,
The groves are repeating it still:
“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
6.8k
Kindly tell the sun to look away
I don’t want to see my curtain sway
Indeed, because these fabricated joys
Are demolished by an obscure ray
Serve me breakfast while the day
Lies as cold as the dew I’ll drink
Now what to do is just obey
Before we are rued by fire’s blink
Put my hot tea beside the lake
Serve it dead and withered
The day is boiling and we’ll be late
For we are but a paper scrapped
The fireplace shall be planted
With torn thorns of brown and black
No rays of red will favor me
As long as the sun scorns at us
Wipe my mouth with torn fabric
It pains me so to be stained in red
That I long ago forsaken but now
Dripping down my crooked neck
For the ghost of you who preyed
On my solitary beat of ill and ****
For your revenant who feasted
On my will and half-eaten heart
For the glooms of your fairy
Schadenfreude upon my sorry
For the life I did not live
To the joy I took from you
Raise the cup and shatter it
Open the curtain and drain our life of lies
To the eye of the day and God’s pity
Serve my breakfast before I live
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 10:36 PM UTC
A boat amid the ripples, drifting, rocking,
Two idle people, without pause or aim;
While in the ominous west there gathers darkness
Flushed with flame.
A haycock in a hayfield backing, lapping,
Two drowsy people pillowed round about;
While in the ominous west across the darkness
Flame leaps out.
Better a wrecked life than a life so aimless,
Better a wrecked life than a life so soft;
The ominous west glooms thundering, with its fire
Lit aloft.
5.1k
LOVELY Semiramis
Closes her slanting eyes:
Dead is she long ago.
From her fan, sliding slow,
Parrot-bright fire's feathers,
Gilded as June weathers,
Plumes bright and shrill as grass
Twinkle down; as they pass
Through the green glooms in Hell
Fruits with a tuneful smell,
Grapes like an emerald rain,
Where the full moon has lain,
Greengages bright as grass,
Melons as cold as glass,
Piled on each gilded booth,
Feel their cheeks growing smooth.
Apes in plumed head-dresses
Whence the bright heat hisses,--
Nubian faces, sly
Pursing mouth, slanting eye,
Feel the Arabian
Winds floating from the fan.
4.9k
Here come I to my own again,
Fed, forgiven and known again,
Claimed by bone of my bone again
And cheered by flesh of my flesh.
The fatted calf is dressed for me,
But the husks have greater zest for me,
I think my pigs will be best for me,
So I’m off to the Yards afresh.
I never was very refined, you see,
(And it weighs on my brother’s mind, you see)
But there’s no reproach among swine, d’you see,
For being a bit of a swine.
So I’m off with wallet and staff to eat
The bread that is three parts chaff to wheat,
But glory be!—there’s a laugh to it,
Which isn’t the case when we dine.
My father glooms and advises me,
My brother sulks and despises me,
And Mother catechises me
Till I want to go out and swear.
And, in spite of the butler’s gravity,
I know that the servants have it I
Am a monster of moral depravity,
And I’m ****** if I think it’s fair!
I wasted my substance, I know I did,
On riotous living, so I did,
But there’s nothing on record to show I did
Worse than my betters have done.
They talk of the money I spent out there—
They hint at the pace that I went out there—
But they all forget I was sent out there
Alone as a rich man’s son.
So I was a mark for plunder at once,
And lost my cash (can you wonder?) at once,
But I didn’t give up and knock under at once,
I worked in the Yards, for a spell,
Where I spent my nights and my days with hogs.
And shared their milk and maize with hogs,
Till, I guess, I have learned what pays with hogs
And—I have that knowledge to sell!
So back I go to my job again,
Not so easy to rob again,
Or quite so ready to sob again
On any neck that’s around.
I’m leaving, Pater. Good-bye to you!
God bless you, Mater! I’ll write to you!
I wouldn’t be impolite to you,
But, Brother, you are a hound!
3.8k
* * *
Is a DJ - a "DJ", really?
Do we not operate in tunes?
We joggle with joy them and freely -
To ease our listeners' glooms.
Methinks -
We are ought to be "TJ"s.
For, truly, we pluck the Soul's strings.
And hearts care only for wings -
To fly with vibrations of music
And into their sanity fuse it.
(с)kRu, 11.12.2006 - 18.06.2007
Jan 30, 2010
Jan 30, 2010 at 1:12 AM UTC
Spring is the season of new beginnings.
Surrounded with beauty that energizes you.
Green meadows , cool breeze , the purple moors,
Lush blooms that take away the winter glooms.
Enticing you in an array of colours,
Narcissus ,Hyacinths ,lilacs, Irises and Freesia ,
present a string of floral amnesia.
Like a pollywog when you are scampering through,
Oh ! dear spring you are a welcome view.
Wear your gadoshes ,
head to where the valleys and the skies meet,
robin's and swallow's tweet,
The bright rays of the sun spread the warmth and rainbows present a colourful greet.
Bid goodbye's to winter blue's ,
Welcome the "VERNAL EQUINOX" hues.
©Mrunalini.D.Nimbalkar
Feb 20, 2019
Feb 20, 2019 at 7:52 AM UTC
I'm a DJ, a Disk jockey.
My fingers are like a jockey stick.
I breathe and live House music.
The first descendant of Disco music.
I'm the descendant of Frankie Knuckles.
My tunes ease listener's glooms.
I'm a predator, music beats are my prey.
House music is the only language I understand.
I busk locally and internationally.
I'm a beast, not just any beast.
Beast that play 4/4 repetitive beats.
I play tunes that move with heart beats.
My tunes aren't restricted to race or religion.
Behind the deck, I'm thee "House beast"
May 16, 2018
May 16, 2018 at 7:17 PM UTC
Peacocks dance and trees sway,
to the sweet songs of the birds that briskly fly away,
Wood's speckled with the golden , summer blooms.
fresh green carpets take away the glooms.
Reminiscing in the beauty of the pure water streams,
Nature is at play creating picturesque dreams.
Sweet Nector on the dew dropped poppies,
buzz of the bee's,
the charm of the humming birds nesting in style .
Oh! Nature is at play all the while.
Sunray's penetrating through dark clouds,
Colourful little birdies, chirpy, synchronised , repetative and aloud .
Crispy mornings under clear blue skies, nature is at play as the time flies.
Basking in the beauty of God's creations,
a life full of positive aspirations,
Lo ! behold ! Do we notice the nature's beauty , as we go in life performing our duty ?
Take a pause!
remember your purpose and cause.
Breathe in the fresh air,
Admire the surroundings,
Sit back ,relax and smile,
as nature is at play all the while.
© Mrunalini .D. Nimbalkar
Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 4:12 AM UTC
Your hands lie open in the long fresh grass,—
The finger-points look through the rosy blooms:
Your eyes smile peace. The pasture gleams and glooms
’Neath billowing skies that scatter and amass.
All round our nest, far as the eye can pass,
Are golden kingcup-fields with silver edge
Where the cow-parsley skirts the hawthorn-hedge.
’Tis visible silence, still as the hour-glass.
Deep in the sun-searched growths the dragon-fly
Hangs like a blue thread loosened from the sky:
So this wing’d hour is dropt to us from above.
Oh! clasp we to our hearts, for deathless dower,
This close-companioned inarticulate hour
When twofold silence was the song of love.
2.5k
Sunset blooms twilight glooms.. Toward the moon and back I'll be back soon.. Darling I know you look at me, From an empty shadows dream. But I have found where light is born. I saw where songs come from. I have to leave. I have all these emotions to weave. I never really really believed. Nor did I want to really see. But you became my educator. And turned me into a revelator. I feel beautiful inside. And these new feelings of belief cannot be denied.
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 11:31 AM UTC
She laughs, he smiles.
The black forest taste he could only taste at the peak of light beams
Her laugh seems similar, quite similar.
Her haha's outcasted the glooms and dooms
Just as the black forest melted on his taste buds when sun rays streaked upon his shoulder blades.
She cracked a joke, he laughs and nods
Intellectual is what they might say
A brainy maniac she is, who could co-host a sitcom
His Friday nights would now only be filled with her wits
Replacing all the beers and stouts for a while
His once bumpy and rocky throat is nil compared to the highly raised cheekbones visible during a good laugh
But one day she cried.
The guilt he carries overshadowed his sympathy.
Her big swollen eyes
Her pinkish and warm face which was covered in dribble
Hadn't he known?
All those time he made somersaults, he was drown deep below
He could breakthrough,
but was too mesmerized by the mermaid's blinking fishtail and scaly skin.
And she saved him
From being turned into a merman
Only then he was back to square one
Where her laughters, her jokes and her sobs are actually his sugar crush, his Gatsby gold
As always, she was after all, his soul saver.
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 9:48 AM UTC
Your hands lie open in the long fresh grass, -
The finger-points look through like rosy blooms:
Your eyes smile peace. The pasture gleams and glooms
'Neath billowing skies that scatter and amass.
All round our nest, far as the eye can pass,
Are golden kingcup-fields with silver edge
Where the cow-parsley skirts the hawthorn-hedge.
'Tis visible silence, still as the hour-glass.
Deep in the sun-searched growths the dragon-fly
Hangs like a blue thread loosened from the sky: -
So this wing'd hour is dropt to us from above.
Oh! clasp we to our hearts, for deathless dower,
This close-companioned inarticulate hour
When twofold silence was the song of love.
2k
Where bathes you the morning dew
lights you the sun
colors you the dawn's hue
a moment newly begun.
Where shelters you the blue sky
soaks you the rain
lets out your heart's cry
words shape your pain.
Where dazzles you the sunshine
glooms end of day
hope is the silver line
living the only way.
Where gnaws you the sorrow's worm
runs you the smile
speaks to you the soul's calm
happiness is only a mile.
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 12:48 PM UTC
Tell me how can you fit an entire universe in your eyes.
How can the twinkle of the three hundred billion stars settle down in your smile?
Why do you cry galaxies
and sweat planets?
I'd prefer to have a meteor shower instead of butterflies
fluttering in my stomach.
Every hour,
every mile we roam,
wandering,
admiring the moon
while it follows us to take care of her commune.
For the stars in your eyes,
the asteroids in your stomach,
the whole universe you let out in every one of your chuckles.
You're not just a whole sky,
you're more than galaxies.
And I can't fathom
how someone so astonishing
could fancy a pure mortal.
With no twinkle in her eyes,
no galaxies when she smiles.
Not even a hint of magic,
would make her out of this world.
And the rays of sun
you stand below,
that make you glow beautifully,
would only make her eyes hurt.
For she will never be a child of the sun,
nor daughter of the moon.
Who's love is as impossible as ours.
Now that,
when the sun is alive,
living to its fairest,
the moon would die to let him shine.
And viceversa,
the sun would vanish,
for every one of the moons sparks
in a speck of time.
So you gleam.
Full of universes.
Full of light.
And she glooms.
Full of space.
Full of darkness.
Craving you,
seeking for your stars.
But she'd never forgive herself
if she dimmed your constellations,
or wiped away your planets.
Not even steal a single meteor from your stomach.
She'd rather turn away
than drag you to the void.
For she knows,
the sun would never feel the same anymore.
Your soul from outer space
would rot into a pit,
and she wouldn't scrape away your happiness,
not even for meteors in her stomach.
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 9:15 PM UTC
Midsummer midnight skies,
Midsummer midnight influences and airs,
The shining, sensitive silver of the sea
Touched with the strange-hued blazonings of dawn;
And all so solemnly still I seem to hear
The breathing of Life and Death,
The secular Accomplices,
Renewing the visible miracle of the world.
The wistful stars
Shine like good memories. The young morning wind
Blows full of unforgotten hours
As over a region of roses. Life and Death
Sound on--sound on . . . And the night magical,
Troubled yet comforting, thrills
As if the Enchanted Castle at the heart
Of the wood's dark wonderment
Swung wide his valves, and filled the dim sea-banks
With exquisite visitants:
Words fiery-hearted yet, dreams and desires
With living looks intolerable, regrets
Whose voice comes as the voice of an only child
Heard from the grave: shapes of a Might-Have-Been--
Beautiful, miserable, distraught--
The Law no man may baffle denied and slew.
The spell-bound ships stand as at gaze
To let the marvel by. The grey road glooms . . .
Glimmers . . . goes out . . . and there, O, there where it fades,
What grace, what glamour, what wild will,
Transfigure the shadows? Whose,
Heart of my heart, Soul of my soul, but yours?
Ghosts--ghosts--the sapphirine air
Teems with them even to the gleaming ends
Of the wild day-spring! Ghosts,
Everywhere--everywhere--till I and you
At last--dear love, at last!--
Are in the dreaming, even as Life and Death,
Twin-ministers of the unoriginal Will.
1.8k
Through thickest glooms look back, immortal shade,
On that confusion which thy death has made:
Or from Olympus’ height look down, and see
A Town involv’d in grief bereft of thee.
Thy Lucy sees thee mingle with the dead,
And rends the graceful tresses from her head,
Wild in her woe, with grief unknown opprest
Sigh follows sigh deep heaving from her breast.
Too quickly fled, ah! whither art thou gone?
Ah! lost for ever to thy wife and son!
The hapless child, thine only hope and heir,
Clings round his mother’s neck, and weeps his sorrows there.
The loss of thee on Tyler’s soul returns,
And Boston for her dear physician mourns.
When sickness call’d for Marshall’s healing hand,
With what compassion did his soul expand?
In him we found the father and the friend:
In life how lov’d! how honour’d in his end!
And must not then our AEsculapius stay
To bring his ling’ring infant into day?
The babe unborn in the dark womb is tost,
And seems in anguish for its father lost.
Gone is Apollo from his house of earth,
But leaves the sweet memorials of his worth:
The common parent, whom we all deplore,
From yonder world unseen must come no more,
Yet ’midst our woes immortal hopes attend
The spouse, the sire, the universal friend.
1.8k
we stroll the orchard
where grapes prune
and apples dutch
the burgeoning ****
of our memories...
we remain shimmering in true dusk. there
on the cusp of inscrutable lust and the chaste rabies
of a sliver of first bone
with tornado lips
and cotton
random.
we cajole our misfortune,
and rise at noon; without laughing -
we ****** our hags from the raven
that feathered our cap.
we elapse with the dead
in the basement of our rendering.
a little ahead of ourselves
or dead, no matter what.
the orchard glooms a demise
in the calm tourettes
of our syndrome...
both alone in the teeming all-spark
of our glorious sundering...
our Mondays say less than
our Present Day -
and a yarn of plight and sunstroke
gropes at the barb
of our bee stung
innocence
we chide the withering
for all the Withering -
and all the good
it does....
besides.
we wrath glide the plum
then have at Life.
Feb 28, 2013
Feb 28, 2013 at 11:28 AM UTC
stray thoughts
born from the blue
become daisies when
the sun shines through;
a dark age unravelling
the Elysian fields
from existential glooms
come ethereal yields..
Nov 24, 2021
Nov 24, 2021 at 11:03 AM UTC
Storm— rain drips, water ripples- thundering through
Seize shelter for overhead the skies darkest nature glooms
The wind hurtles, leaves blowing over the ground
till midnight, the storm surges —
Unrelenting, not a pause to be found
Grasp tight onto the bars, the winds blowing is breaking natures ground
The storm is a beast, it sounds it’s booming growls
The horns, they sound too, but deafened by nature’s loud sounds
The storm will pass through, no more creatures to bear a sight, no more shaking, trembling in fright
So on, Carry the nature
sounding it’s menacing cries aloud
till then, wait until it parts it’s wars and the skies goes clear and restless nights be eased
as the storms
do not sound no more
May 10, 2021
May 10, 2021 at 2:21 AM UTC
That love so feels ,
So reel ,
showed real .
That ****
made onto me
I that kneel to .
The fear
Comes near
Holding me dear
All so clear
and pale
Those shadows of
past
That shall sail
Deep down the crevices
of my heart
where
The tracks are unfinished
for the rails
Bleeding nails so amaze
Abandoned and deserted
All taken by my soul ; hurted
Could pen you into
thousands of verses
As there's still a little while
For me
to get used to this curse yet ......
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 5:29 PM UTC
Sitting on the wire she glooms and alone
‘Down forth’ all beckon,
‘Bits of bread are there
Pick up lest the other demands share’.
The lame bird ***** in the air
Rolling down from her breast a feather,
Pecking a bit with a sense
The escorts saving by defence.
A hunter hits like the lightning from the blue
None finds out yet its clue,
Concreted blood splitting and dog's spittle
Absence of delay makes her utmost brittle,
The barking dogs in the narrow city
Whose have with her no affinity,
All green leaves falling upon ground
That is for love beyond of bound,
Odium! Odium! to the merciless beings
The supreme creatures for whom so long she sings.
Sep 24, 2025
Sep 24, 2025 at 3:57 AM UTC
I bet you're wondering what A weird thing to be spoken about, touch? we all know what touch is. We all know how touch is one of the multitude 5 senses a human can have, we all know how it can make us or break us, but they don't know about your touch. They don't know that once you decide to touch anything around you, life appears from it. They don't know how once you touch any living and non living thing around you, the world glooms up and throws bliss into everyones souls. The day you brushed your hands into mine.. I knew how god created rainbows and how every shade gradually shifted to the other simply taking our breaths away. The day you brushed your hands on my face, I knew why god put the stars in the sky. How could one possible touch of yours bring back life to a person who is already living? Have I been living the wrong kind of feels before you? How could a touch of yours let me doubt all my years before you.. is this some kind of sorcery? I know that if I live by your touch forever, I will have that rainbow that gradually shifts into breathtaking colours in my everyday life. I know that if You let me by your side forever holding your hands, I will forever remember why god put those stars in our sky and appreciate every reason for it. It's your touch that brought me sane, hope, compassion and warmth within my life.
Feb 20, 2016
Feb 20, 2016 at 9:01 AM UTC