"glowers" poems
HEAR YE HEAR YE:
It's a wedding bell for bedding well cause' we're crushin' the illusion of Russian collusion! CNN wets on Russian bedding but Trump bets on Russian wedding, and you're invited to the bridal shower. Punking the monkery, dig the debunkery; from Rasputin to Putin it's time for some straight shootin'. Hillary looks old and glowers at Donald's rumored golden showers. Our media owes US an explanation for streams of steaming urination, but we are willing to forgive and use their wet diapers as debt wipers. My poem's appeal may take a toll, but let its little peal now roll:
****** ****** rings the bell
A Fake News warning; time to spell
out what was wet with Moscow girls.
Putin's putas ? Wisdom's pearls
were pried from Truth's reluctant shell,
banishing Hillary straight to hell.
None. It's what we want left over
from this hag. We now discover
beds were dry; it all amounted
(all those golden tricks recounted)
to less than a tepid bowl of kasha. . .
Russia laughed from her summer dacha.
InfoWars was on it first
while Dems spun lies from false to worst,
awarding cash for faked dossiers
embellished with the CIA's
well-trained performing circus-seal.
The FBI endorsed the deal
as RINOS horned in on the action:
Washingtonian distraction;
a democrat-concocted fuss—
. . . but we ALL paid Hillary to **** on us.
Oct 26, 2017
Oct 26, 2017 at 4:47 PM UTC
You sit in your chair, crazy lenses on your eyes
As you perfect your perfect human disguise,
Poking and prodding inside of my skull
With ice picks and drills, never anything dull.
My jaw is locked, and my tongue is now tied.
“This won’t hurt a bit,” you tell me. You lied.
I lay here, strapped down, for what feels like hours,
As your assistant sits in the corner and glowers,
And you slip me some music as if it’s all okay
As blood rushes and gushes out, clear as day.
The buzzing and shaking is all just too much,
And I can’t stop my body from quaking at your touch.
Quaking in fear that this will go horribly wrong,
For I have already been trapped here far too long.
A smile grows on your face as my heartbeat quickens,
And you laugh as it gets louder, and as my body stiffens.
Finally, days later, I’m released from your experiment,
Only to find out, in six months, I’ll be back again.
Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 8:41 PM UTC
Whispers
in alabaster ears
words unforgiving, unforgiven
year after year after year.
Whispered secret secrets.
Laurel leaved lies of liars
traitorously spilling wine while
tear after tear after tear
shed and shredded truth
cut sharp with guile.
Cloaked smiles kissing
hands of befriended strangers
in strange lands lighting fires;
fire after fire after fire
burning hatred blind to danger.
Sentried angry glowers guarding towers
o'er ever changing landscapes of desire
hour after hour after hour.
Come little child, take to your lips
a bitter taste of this our power.
r ~ 4/24/14
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 4:27 PM UTC
Grim grey day
starts in the dark,
grumbles, glowers
shoulders hunched
Everyone in bitter agreement -
"Miserable!"
Rain driven against windows,
streaming pavements,
shoe-squelched curses
cast at baleful sky.
Travelling home at last,
raincoat defeated
tricklebacked discomfort,
Windscreen wipers ten to the dozen
under sopping sorrowful trees,
headlights strobing relentless rain
And -
Those aren't leaves.
What are they?
Tumbling across the road,
crisscrossing parabolas
of peculiar joy
Frogs!
I stop:
I have to.
The night is alive
with manic delight
as secret creatures fling caution to the wind
and bound into sight,
into frantic celebration,
unphased by cars, by foolish bipeds
who thought this planet was theirs -
Open mouthed and uninvited
I gaze, displaced and foolish
for not knowing
It is,
it is the most beautiful night
that could possibly be imagined.
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 8:24 AM UTC
There’s something about the lonely hours,
Just you and me, our space overlapping.
The sky a meadow, constellations, flowers.
No passion-filled debate, no vying powers,
Lazy destiny dreams, eschewing plans or mapping.
There’s something about the lonely hours.
Past today, the future glowers,
But reserve this sacred instant for reflection, recapping.
The sky a meadow, constellations, flowers.
The earth is straining, injustice towers,
Insidious corruption, pain and deceit chafing, chapping.
There’s something about the lonely hours.
The darkness consumes, seconds become hours,
Sorrow lurks at hand, irksome insecurities tapping.
The sky a meadow, constellations, flowers.
Yet, peace resounds, the evil cowers.
Hope, the thing with feathers, quietly, resiliently flapping.
There’s something about the lonely hours,
The sky a meadow, constellations, flowers.
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 7:43 PM UTC
The spiritual hour:
The clock,
Static, stagnant,
Glowers.
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 3:56 AM UTC
Never say never, unless unsure
If one has won; whether the storm was weathered.
Still the unshod horse circles around tethered,
And pounds the ground until the sound,
Fades away and we forget her.
Friendship is forever, but loyalty doesn't exist;
Deep inside of all of us is just a selfish *****
The puppet master, d-list disaster,
Terrible actor, no director will cast her.
Crawled from the inferno and seeped through the toes,
Devours every infant the moment they are clothed.
Spine straw, she slurps up all our souls,
Depleted delicious decency leaves a void,
Bad habits enjoyed, eyes remain vacant and annoyed.
The monarch orange, beautiful mess,
Stilted success, seconds from daisy distress.
Stick more glitter to glue the attention
Maybe this year you'll be worth a mention.
Complain about the crowd with smile covered glowers.
Ticking clock tower reminds cowards they've been idly awake for hours.
So take care, prepare your hearse,
We all know the most beautiful flower is clipped first.
Apr 18, 2012
Apr 18, 2012 at 9:33 PM UTC
Frowning through my tears of joy,
I’m the kind of person who
Glowers when happy - plays decoy,
But I’ll always bleed for you.
Kiss me – in the wind and rain.
Touch me – I want to feel the strain.
Hold me – I need to hear your heart beating.
Warm me – in the cold and dark.
Break me – into a million shards.
Take me – I want all of you and nothing else.
Something unbound, something awakened,
Something made of revelations sweet,
Something which we don’t have to hasten,
Somewhere that I don’t have to fear,
Something renowned - lost in translation,
Something of an exploration sweet,
Something without abnegation,
Something born of deprivation’s heat,
Something from our raw starvation,
Something to give affirmation sweet,
Something of pure intoxication,
Something free of all complications prior,
Something in my adoration,
Something in your infiltration sweet,
Something in our desperation,
Something which dares not even one glance back,
Something without hesitation.
But so simple.
Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 3:55 PM UTC
Feeling blessed thankful for the outcomes
I made it to the next level and keep going
Networking with ppl trying to put the plan into play
Found someone special taking it slow
Got a raise growing within the company
Sharing my vision making it a reality
Glad I'm able to do so not settling for less
Getting noticed for the change
My tone and attitude has changed
Sticking to what i m passion about make a living out of it
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 3:48 AM UTC
I'll check the news,
Then turn off my phone.
Switch off the light,
And crawl into my cocoon.
I'll stare in darkness,
Waiting for light,
A flash of writing,
With a wave of delight.
Some nights it's just dark,
Some nights it's bright,
Some nights I crawl away,
And feast upon my lonely fright.
Gnaw on bones of past lovers,
And wrestle with fantasies of memory.
Underneath my covers.
Breaking down again in certainty,
Only in the low hours,
Am I stuck in never-ending cycles?
To avoid the angel on the window ledge ,
who does nothing but glowers,
with its golden hooded eyes,
Again and again.
Jan 21, 2018
Jan 21, 2018 at 9:42 AM UTC
automobile assault again
by
churchlot crasher.
departed, damage done
even
forgoing forgiveness.
grumbling gomez glowers,
haranguing
impossible immunity.
jeez! just...jerk!
klutzy
lot leaver!
mangled mobility machine
needs
overnight observation.
poignant payment, pending
quixotic
recompensing ravager.
supposing satisfactory salvage.
truck
under
vehicular
warranty.
Jun 13, 2015
Jun 13, 2015 at 12:31 AM UTC
On a late afternoon break,
the blue sky slowly dims,
billowing clouds of gray
and white, move farther away
so quickly...like wavelets
on a stream.....always going
forward, never flowing back.
among a stream of faces, i wish
to be a shy spark, barely bright
like those tiny bearers of light
on starry or moon-glowed nights.
ah, to be like a child, with eyes
aglow, beaming with a smile,
when these dots of light
emerge on dark hours,
high and low...i forget life's
nagging murmurs of unfairness.
i err, as i am human, but when
i see the clouds, i see God's face.
He sees me without fail, as i rise
from the grass...or from a fall.
i join those low-keyed glowers at night,
with them, i'm just, a bigger firefly,
seeking wisdom in their short-lived light.
:::::::::::::
::::::::::
sally b
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
July 15, 2021
Aug 26, 2021
Aug 26, 2021 at 9:55 PM UTC
I walk down the ***** populated hallway with the vines growing inside and out of it and I see my reflection in each passing door. I live just down there — not five feet; hardly taller than me, but not older. I exemplify my worries of the dark by shivering away, jammering teeth and tingling coins in pocket screaming familiar songs into my ear.
A door opens, and for a second, we all hear the universe: all of us, out in the hall. A crystalline rod – the thin kind they use in labs or bars to stir drinks together (both of which are alchemy) – snaps, pouring a silver liquid into the hand of the person who leaves his room. With insanity he glowers at the speed of the gods. Echoes of the word “quicksilver” mutter down the hall, motors flare, and explosions go off.
Each room is the same, but different: infinite capacity with different chemicals, different chemistry, and different emotion.
Afraid, I turn the **** of my own cell, and I enter one billionth of myself, and I am myself. Stammering within my own mind, I quell my heart with symphonies of norm, letting flow thousands of flying fish from the forefront of the fantastic sound.
It does not matter that other people have the same room as I do; it only matters that their rooms are different. Their rooms are cages, as are their hearts, as are their hands. The man in the hallway (short, stubby thing with eyes like a deer) blows ether from his mouth upon the liquid metal in the palm of his digits, and it floats down the way like baking powder or how I’d always imagined snow would look in a blizzard. I can hear all this, and I must divide myself from the whiteness it brings. I hate the bleak mornings it makes.
I would like to open the door and show the silver-to-white stuff that I, too, can throw a gust at things and have them take flight, but it is not the same. Today is a world with solemn toast -- intimidating those with brains.
Oct 15, 2010
Oct 15, 2010 at 1:12 PM UTC
On this clear night the moon glowers
Spreading false light on the blackest of evenings
Your porcelain flesh is illuminated perfectly
The lurking breeze shuffles your hair around the white dance floor
A waltz of seduction, a tango of pheromone driven lust
The moon skirts behind a passing cloud, as you nuzzle closer to me
I tighten the leash around Time’s neck and slow it down
It is our pet, we command it what we will
We command it to remain still, and we relish in our embrace
“Dear Moon, I pray to you
that I and my love shall stay
forever under your view
on this nega-light night
with time at our feet
and her warmth in my hands”
Apr 28, 2013
Apr 28, 2013 at 6:58 AM UTC
let me take you in..
i promise it will be quite lovely..
i want to thrive
in the shadows of
your mind
i may be forgotten
but i must at least
occur in your mind
once in a while
i want to be
your lady
of the light
you can be my little
prince of darkness
love me
with endless devotion
touch my collarbone
tell me
you love it
i know you do.
i lace my fingers
passing your
ever pulsing vein
you hesitate
i smile
your breathing
steady
your smile glowers
and i can almost
hear it ringing
in my ear
i see you
and the ringing
endlessly persists
i only want to
pull you in
cloak you
in my passionate love
two shadows
making love
in the infinite darkness
stupid and pitiful love
(b.d.s.)
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 11:56 AM UTC
London, 1999
Oh the fences they hold true,
wandering through heavy woven forests of tree roots
to pastures of sunken vegetation
along dirt roads nestled in overcast shadows,
as a family picnics, or so it would appear.
A rejoice of sorts if only you were still here.
I see your silhouette appear and reappear,
the wind etching your likeness
upon each cairn that dots pastoral.
The walking path becomes overwhelmed by sunlight.
Perhaps you are still working in the fields,
Your wind-burned and calloused exterior
holding rough rooted abhorrence in your lowered brow.
You remain sanctified and unpolluted,
piling sun bleached stone upon sunken roots,
the dark shadows solidified in foreground fate.
Oh how your canvas womb gives heartless birth.
Thrice mangled memories,
of dark French roast in an earth tone demitasse
and crumpets served slightly charred on the veranda
on a chipped porcelain Victorian saucer
with only a faint shade of lavender along its edge.
As the dark brown stain in the once white silk tablecloth
glowers through the prongs of your tarnished silver fork,
You stare across the table
at the emptiness of the once filled bookcases.
I realize that your only genuine notion of remorse
is in the severed piece of an antique plate.
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 5:44 PM UTC
Calm seas have never produced
Skilled and able sailors
In the intensity of crashing waves
Is where you find your valor
Winds slashing, lightning flashing
No hurricane could make us cower
Calloused hands grip rope with strength
Moonlight guides our darkest hours
Treacherous times, character defining
Crow eyes survey, suspended in the tower
Battle tested facing death, ready for any challenge
Our sails stand true, unwavering in thrashing showers
Razor blade rain soaks salt stained skin
Quitting just isnt a viable option
We need to prove it to ourselves that we can make it through this
Dark clouds take the shape of haunting faces
Taunting us with their sneering glowers
Fear crys out but the voice of courage sings louder
Surviving is the proof of ability, for which we search and scour
Empowered by overcoming what means to devour us
Rain accumulates into oceans of wisdom
Experience blossoms, self confidence flowers
If we hide when life gets rough
We will never know our power
Jan 11, 2025
Jan 11, 2025 at 7:01 AM UTC
Glowers
Prowls
Footsteps claiming
Owning streets
Avoid the eyes
Gimlet glinting
Don't mess around
Deadly ground
Wordless
Anger incarnate
No reason
No reasoning
A natural fact
Magnificent horror
Threateningly ugly
Closing in
Too close
Dead eyes
Predatory grin
Steel glints lightning
Turn and run!
Run, run fast away
Never come here again
By Phil Roberts
Jan 21, 2017
Jan 21, 2017 at 8:26 AM UTC
Here here!
Time to drink deeper
Life's elegant poison
The distillation
Indifferences
Quasi-Bliss, meaningless kisses
Vows long dismissed
And the distemper in slights
Eyes
Steel piercing loathing
Skull selfish
Pretenses with fake smiles
But feral quick
An itch to pounce
These Strange days's unfair fight
Human-kindness flounced
From talon to claw
I've become a **** lamb
In the fever of their masquerade ball
They're dressed to the nines
The tenth moment glowers
Eleventh hour molts
It's slime and skins
Even by knowing the danger
I'm still In
Life now feels slick
A snake eating its own tail
While Death, a rictus of teeth
Time in its hiss
(They all hail)
And now
I've become a lone buoy,
Smoke in the water / **** / deep
Adrift in this drowning,
Our ocean
Creation weeps...
I am
Raising a toast
To life even tho'
Far from shore,
I still love you so.
Sunk in their potions
Now made as tho' a mead,
Drink deep
Dark elegant poisons
The liars tend to speak
I will float upon every horizon
They cannot defeat
Cheers and Salut!
To this divine comedy...
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 12:59 PM UTC
she twinkles over meadows
at the dusk of the day.
she mesmerises sweethearts in the dark.
her light is captured treasure
sought for mason jar displays.
i ran to catch her warm endearing spark.
among the other glowers
in the field of the dance,
her light shines always brighter than the rest.
with pure and whole intentions
i pursued in true romance
til i trapped her love inside my bottled quest.
i held her as possession,
admiring as a prize,
a crystal trophy worshiped at my whim.
she smiled a forced conviction
always giving through those eyes,
but her light, possessed, began to slowly dim.
some light is made for holding,
some light is made to stay,
but she was made for freedom like a lark.
i loosed her o'er the meadows
at the dusk of the day
to luminate more lovers in the dark.
May 23, 2017
May 23, 2017 at 9:17 AM UTC
full moon glowers
through a vent in the storm
fickle sleep comes
and goes as she pleases
we rise
to a bruised and bleeding dawn
both victim
to the black cloud
Sep 1, 2013
Sep 1, 2013 at 4:12 AM UTC
On starry nights,
i think of the comets and meteors
that graced the starlit skies of past nights,
of falling stars i chased, as i uttered my wishes
before they disappeared at the far end
and somewhere out there....exploded
all these...were mine...they used to be mine
to hear you say, i was your rainbow...was divine
i was your sun, your source of light,
your moon...your accompanying glow at night...
.............you said..................
day or night, it wouldn't matter...
nothing could shield my glitter
we were bound by long strings of glowers,
ties.....that could never be severed
for, i.....was your universe.
yet....the moon, the sea and the tides,
the wind and the rain.....all connived,
all decided: for now, things musn't jibe
all worked together...to create space
all made the earth move, on a different pace.
we used to be rich with all the things,
.....suddenly, we ran out of everything.
our world...slowly crumbled
our paths followed suit, and swerved
yes, we were clearly breathing
but, WE....had stopped existing,
promises, declarations, then uttered,
became platitudes...stale, and dead.
i am now,
my own Universe.
Sally
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
June 3, 2016
Aug 10, 2019
Aug 10, 2019 at 10:49 PM UTC
there are many things trembling, disparate, conscious of their
spaces. things appear colossal when near. rife as tongued word,
an approximation – a misuse of time;
dealing more for sight than feeling, things snap in a very short distance.
fire burning glowers pale. lilt of a sentence in speech.
a luminescence is nearness. its impact, relative – brands it a different
form, recalls it, a clear warning as message.
what is yearned for is distant. mostly what’s ignored is as obvious
as want. you, both at the same time, undulating.
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 4:57 AM UTC
it is the dawn of the avenue.
the children sing rain
and the fire i burn glowers.
o, it is when the twilight came
i was speaking then, to you,
all the trees beauteously bring
you to me and our hands handle
the hours full of moon.
the patter of the rain they sing
and the bundle of woe i bring
by the avenues traced by
girl-graces, strewn loveliness of
basket hollows and singsongy
feelingfulness — look at what the
wind does to the berries,
and ourselves in brightened plaudit;
hands no playthings, i touch her
silken thighs and death peers
no longer; only yawns in the speechless
distance, frequent dream-pauses
drenched in sweat of nightly heat
your mouth tasting chrysanthemums.
luminance of voice blinds the shadowy
corner, light lifts, god pulses in
the deepest, most final mirror of ourselves, supreme over all and i,
in the most radiant green of all earth,
smiling at my lover's body.
Oct 31, 2015
Oct 31, 2015 at 10:25 PM UTC