"gyration" poems
*Having hardships in life is somewhat
we all have to face .
No matter how positive we foresee our lives ,
struggle towards serenity is never effortless.
We all are embedded in deadlocks of life.
Without ENDURANCE & TOLERANCE
we will collapse in gyration of dilemma.*
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 11:59 PM UTC
Extravagantly exorbitant mentality panacea
Pretentious eidetic’s ubiquity mnemonics
Extraversion embezzlement extortion mens rea
Endergonic laconic cacophony phonics
Preterite rendition enclitic equilibrist motion
Mystic symbiosis dharma spiritual sky
Brusque macabre abjections the gist of the potion
Straight up forever ontology on high
Obdurately abstruse vituperatively vociferous
Juxtaposition apparition myriad avarice
Orotund sonorous diction obliquitous
Multifariously versatile nefarious nemesis
Mirador bartizan phantasmagoria aesthetics
Guidon gyration excursion integration
Sorcerous alchemizing interstitial endemics
Chaos charisma objectified tribulation
Conjurous apothegms clitoral apomixis
Exude emote surrogate extrapolation
Astral projection littoral hypotaxis
Kinetic supremacy homogeneity gravitation
Coercible coalescent cohesion dexterities
Adjunct conjunction conjecture acuity
Platonic pragmatic prosaic austerities
Extemporaneous impromptu innuendo fortuity
Propinquity habitation harbinger spectra
Perplexing paradox tenacity rostra
Intensely cogitational abstract mantra
Penumbral exigency , umbrage per contra
Theoretical incursion grandiloquent ne plus ultra
Exogamy of homoplasy sic itur ad astra
Quiescent serendipity surreal anestra
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 6:16 AM UTC
I do not own a motorbike,
Never been a member of the Third *****
I’m not Italian, French or gay,
(No homophobe, just not built that way).
I’m not Tom Jones or a member of Queen,
I’m not going back to the seventies in a time machine.
I’m not a backing dancer for Madonna,
Talc on my legs “I don’t wanna”.
So why do I own a pair of leather trousers?
This was definitely a mistake,
Like breaking wind on a first date,
Swearing at the boss at the crimbo celebration,
Being caught by parents doing a ****** gyration.
Persuaded to buy them, through the mist of lust she had taste,
I found out too late, she was highly religious, chaste.
Good quality, not cheap, never worn,
Could be used in transvestite ****
Does anyone want a pair of leather trousers?
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 5:05 AM UTC
From my head to my toes
My inner self glows
Feeling like sunshine
On the inside
From my head to my toes
My inner self knows
Just like migration
An inner gyration
From my head to my toes
My inner self shows
When I am creating
A loving notation
From my head to my toes
My inner self grows
Like a beautiful plant
Stretching so elegant
From my head to my toes
My inner self flows
Like a babbling brook
And new routes it can take
From my head to my toes
My inner self echoes
Reflecting a harmony
From deep inside of me
From my head to my toes
My inner self crows
Sharing a voice
Of loving choice
From my head to my toes
My inner self sows
A peaceful future
For all to nurture
From my head to my toes
My inner self bestows
A heavenly surrounding
With love abounding
From my toes to my head
By inner self I am led
A divine connection
In this dimension
Excerpt from: Poetic Expressions (Awakening Our Inner Dimension)
Oct 17, 2010
Oct 17, 2010 at 8:13 AM UTC
treacherously torrid and torrential torrents of totally tangential tumultuous tortuous ; tyrannically torturous adjunct viably salient seethe.
procrastinating pandemic plenipotentiary prosthesis ; prosaically pragmatic parenthetical predication predilection premise prognostication
panoramic tableau preternatural propensity proclivity prestidigitation gesticulation :
gyration guidon ; ghastly gruesome grotesque hideously horrible horrendous heinous
grotty gnarly
diabolically maniacal dementia brusque macabre abrupt
awful
amalgamated anathema analysis agnate aggregate aberrance
somatalogy virtuoso cognate obduracy
worse
rudiment ebullience , confluence effluent effusion affluent , prolific profusity opulence , cogent fecund secular secund , recondite redolence abstrusely obstreperous mesomerism resonance resilience
protractive perpetude futurity
blither blandishing blabber burnishing boresome blahs
lithe blithe jabber prattle chatter tithe
morose morsel moribundness
stolid stoic
stalwart bastion bulwark
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 5:45 PM UTC
Galactic curls in spirals swirl, entwining twisted mystery,
where time unrolls in blackened holes, no longer bright and blistery,
but writ like runes on starry dunes enclosed in cosmic history
Galactic dust, from novas' gusts, congesting empty spaces
once fatefully flung beyond the tongue of burnt out astral traces,
may recompress and coalesce in distant times and places
Galactic dwarves, like ancient wharves with silent planets mooring
yet still in spin though long done in, hide flares no longer soaring -
magnetic webs of eons ebb, in thermal fusion roaring
Galactic tides warp space divides, call forth sublime creation
while bending clocks in rippled shocks, unfolding time dilation
that seems to crown the flowing gown of pulsars' pulsed gyration
Galactic stew, a seething brew, midst background noise and chatter
like Chaos reigns, the sole remains of missing antimatter,
with just a trace to form a space-time, curved or somewhat flatter
Galactic glue holds something new: dark energy and matter
that interacts and counteracts the ancient Big Bang splatter:
a cosmic soup of strings and loops, a universal batter
Galactic life's replete and rife 'neath lactic milky wafer,
though solar gales leave unseen trails of cosmic rays, the strafer;
but nonetheless, one must confess, it seems there's nowhere safer
Aug 21, 2016
Aug 21, 2016 at 8:54 AM UTC
Vision Blurred from mind murmurs, I pause.
Weak so very weak, ideas -the main cause-
It starts with thought, Mine? Maybe. Theirs? Viable.
Perchance a sight sparks sources, pliable
To my forgotten fountain of words and youth.
Whatever kerosene lights false truths,
Matters not, the elicit creation
Itself boils thick blood, a gyration
Of self-exploration and daydreams.
Envision that my dear, a lonely sunbeam:
It is there! Muses dancing in the field,
Undulating excitement revealed!
The blank page beckons, the clever pen begs
To strut. Alas! Its form flutters, the dregs
Remain to tease&taunt; the restless soul
My mind murmurs, trapped, weakened: the sinkhole
Dec 7, 2011
Dec 7, 2011 at 8:32 PM UTC
anxiety
A select spot
and involuntary
gyration
of the hand
there really is no tingle
or tickle
but it is comforting
-- a safety mechanism.
I get no pleasure,
but rather distraction.
coarse,
thick
anxiety makes me itch.
Oct 27, 2012
Oct 27, 2012 at 5:18 AM UTC
IT fell in the ancient periods
Which the brooding soul surveys,
Or ever the wild Time coin'd itself
Into calendar months and days.
This was the lapse of Uriel,
Which in Paradise befell.
Once, among the Pleiads walking,
Sayd overheard the young gods talking;
And the treason, too long pent,
To his ears was evident.
The young deities discuss'd
Laws of form, and metre just,
Orb, quintessence, and sunbeams,
What subsisteth, and what seems.
One, with low tones that decide,
And doubt and reverend use defied,
With a look that solved the sphere,
And stirr'd the devils everywhere,
Gave his sentiment divine
Against the being of a line.
'Line in nature is not found;
Unit and universe are round;
In vain produced, all rays return;
Evil will bless, and ice will burn.'
As Uriel spoke with piercing eye,
A shudder ran around the sky;
The stern old war-gods shook their heads;
The seraphs frown'd from myrtle-beds;
Seem'd to the holy festival
The rash word boded ill to all;
The balance-beam of Fate was bent;
The bounds of good and ill were rent;
Strong Hades could not keep his own,
But all slid to confusion.
A sad self-knowledge withering fell
On the beauty of Uriel;
In heaven once eminent, the god
Withdrew that hour into his cloud;
Whether doom'd to long gyration
In the sea of generation,
Or by knowledge grown too bright
To hit the nerve of feebler sight.
Straightway a forgetting wind
Stole over the celestial kind,
And their lips the secret kept,
If in ashes the fire-seed slept.
But, now and then, truth-speaking things
Shamed the angels' veiling wings;
And, shrilling from the solar course,
Or from fruit of chemic force,
Procession of a soul in matter,
Or the speeding change of water,
Or out of the good of evil born,
Came Uriel's voice of cherub scorn,
And a blush tinged the upper sky,
And the gods shook, they knew not why.
1.5k
you showed me an honest dark element inside of you
but i act peppy and dismissive
i laughed you off as human
your darkness ? a triviality shared amongst us all
shaved off of our common bark
common as simple saliva
you showed me... nature mother of **** and gyration
the play of things
the playthings of the mischievous godlings
and a dark patch was made woman for me also
i was quiet now and unresistant
this new dark inside an unscriptured thing
i'd been castigated and forgiven
in loving unrestrained puncture
Apr 2, 2025
Apr 2, 2025 at 9:42 AM UTC
Sensuality.
Eastern the rhythm as dancing begins.
Practiced fluidity.
Gliding vibration of smooth undulation.
Transparent veils quiver like airy wings.
Bared sensuality.
Stunning production of pulsating pelvis.
Entrancing the swirl of seductive spins.
Twirled spontaneity.
Skirt's silken fringes shake by gyration.
Bangled wrists shiver in twisting rings.
Mounting engagement.
Lookers call loudly stirred by sensation.
Oriental performance an audience wins.
Oct 1, 2018
Oct 1, 2018 at 11:15 AM UTC
I really don't like the idea of growing old.
Don't patronize me with the alternative.
You know squat about that.
There's the smell of bleach and ****
And the lingering odor of soiling
Up and down the corridor.
There's the swish of mops,
And night comes early.
You say you'll visit, but when? You're busy with life.
I won't be seen at gatherings,
Perhaps a visitation for old friends.
The world should spin counter-clockwise
Before expelling me in its daily gyration.
I want a giant to hold me again,
And tell me I'm a good boy for eating,
For crapping in the toilet.
Soon enough, but you don't dare say so aloud.
Jun 23, 2017
Jun 23, 2017 at 1:00 PM UTC
In some lost, moss covered grove, lifeless, she layed…
Then Green Venus tipped her basin, showering
streams of endless water thrashing and splashing
atop her ***** then rushing down her bronzen brae.
Flushed in feminine essence, she opened
her great shell to fill with sumptuous water
‘till it spilled and gushed the ribbed edges over
and onto the soil did Spring’s milk descend.
Drenched and dripping she bursts from dormancy
to embrace her first morning of animation
through misty flurries and fluid gyration
leaving slushy trails of puddles and pollen
and, through dew soaked skies, dawn’s first amber light
Illuminates Spring, fully wakened and alive.
Jul 11, 2018
Jul 11, 2018 at 12:47 PM UTC
Never unexpected, never planned.
Fuel'd by a liquid confidence.
Cheesy chat up lines slurred at the bar.
Flattered by attention, cheeks flush.
Speedy check up in the powder room.
Touched up, Taxi's dial'd.
Time enough for a lucky shot.
Address? unprepared, both are given.
Eyes are rolled in the rear view mirror.
Payments made hastily, no change wanted.
Front door provides a challenge.
Stumbling through in an awkward embrace.
Side lamps smashed as shoes kicked off.
Collapsing with satisfaction, gyration begins.
Clumsy, inexperienced. Oh God
Knotted stomach, dry tongue and self loathing.
Clothes gathered in utter silence.
Taxi dial'd, coffee craved in want of a new identity.
Jun 25, 2011
Jun 25, 2011 at 10:17 AM UTC
Every time I talk about writing-
My writing, my
Frivolous scribblings-in a
Negative light, you tell me,
"You have to write 200 bad poems
Before you can write a good one."
And I have not known you
Long enough to understand the
Nuances of your speech but
I have learned, quickly, that you
Are poetry
Now, this might sound cliche but what I mean is
That when I see you with your bony knees and
Isaac Newton hair my heart
Dips backward in between my ribs the
Fluid motion of your mouth flipping into a grin is a
Chain reaction to my own smile your
Piano fingers stained with ink or paint or dirt caked in life,
In adventures, are their own language and the way you move
Them when you speak makes a dance, a
Twisty tango of gyration and gesticulation.
Exhaling clouds of smoke from your lungs, you
Frame your forehead with tobacco laurels
And I don't worship you, no, but I admire you,
In the way that you cultivate goodnaturedness but
Hide behind it
In the way that you discuss bigdeal things in a
Nobigdeal way
If you wonder why I like you, it's because you are
Honest in a way that is raw and I've never
Felt someone cut me in two with just a gaze.
You are nervous energy and social anxiety and bred to live in nature.
You are suave in a lanky way and still unsure of yourself.
You are a star collapsing in on itself blazing so bright before you
Burn out.
And I want that.
I want that easiness and integrity and
Dancingontablesbecausewhynot and
Singing a song you don't know the words to in a rubberduck voice.
And I want you.
I want you to want me, to
Want to understand my nuances and quirks and hopes and fears and
Why I cringe inside a body that I never belonged to.
I want your poetry for myself.
So if I have to write 200 bad poems before I write 1 good one,
Regardless of where it falls-and where I fall-
This one is for you.
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 2:26 PM UTC
You are so much bitter music you dancing devil
Like a last minute psalm for freedom
One that you have memorized so carefully
You don't recite it
You feel it
The buckle of your knees bends you beautifully in prayer
So many words in your perfectly timed gasps for air
Breathe on my neck again
Bitter sweet beer breathed passion
My fingers dance
Because I need so many ways to say unrequited
So many ways to say
Patience is something I can do without
And I stand still like a tree
Like the wrong tree
And I am barking up it
This is hot mess remix love
Through faulty filters
Burning up my coffee lung
Fingertip singe nailbite frustration
This is bitter music
Full of flavor for all the wrong reasons
A happy accident proximity
Of misunderstood gyration
Hands like dead tree branches
Fingertip curl to write
Sounds of late night windowpane taps
The songs dont match
Though the music ends at the same time
Shoulder shrug and careful backstep
My friends are waiting
It was nice meeting you I guess
You broken bone remix
Of passionate smile
Right foot forward fire
Perfect pitch like a ***** psalm for freedom
And bitter music
Feb 20, 2012
Feb 20, 2012 at 1:21 AM UTC
Extravagantly exorbitant mentality panacea
Pretentious eidetic’s ubiquity mnemonics
Extraversion embezzlement extortion mens rea
Endergonic laconic cacophony phonics
Preterite rendition enclitic equilibrist motion
Mystic symbiosis dharma spiritual sky
Brusque macabre abjections the gist of the potion
Straight up forever ontology on high
Obdurately abstruse vituperatively vociferous
Juxtaposition apparition myriad avarice
Orotund sonorous diction obliquitous
Multifariously versatile nefarious nemesis
Mirador bartizan phantasmagoria aesthetics
Guidon gyration excursion integration
Sorcerous alchemizing interstitial endemics
Chaos charisma objectified tribulation
Conjurous apothegms clitoral apomixis
Exude emote surrogate extrapolation
Astral projection littoral hypotaxis
Kinetic supremacy homogeneity gravitation
Coercible coalescent cohesion dexterities
Adjunct conjunction conjecture acuity
Platonic pragmatic prosaic austerities
Extemporaneous impromptu innuendo fortuity
Propinquity habitation harbinger spectra
Perplexing paradox tenacity rostra
Intensely cogitational abstract mantra
Penumbral exigency , umbrage per contra
Theoretical incursion grandiloquent ne plus ultra
Exogamy of homoplasy sic itur ad astra
Quiescent serendipity surreal anestra
Dec 15, 2016
Dec 15, 2016 at 12:37 PM UTC
Hesitating, contemplating
Gyrating, second guessing
You
Do
This
To
Me
Jan 4, 2013
Jan 4, 2013 at 1:52 PM UTC
Eyes are nice,
Of ice cube brilliance
Radiating beauty
Lip-smacking smiles
Of chubby cheers
Tucked tiny tongue in cheek
Amidst sparkling pearls of teeth
Nosed up symmetry
Of organic organized figure
From bud to blossom
Clear as chrysanthemum
Viewers’ sunshine
Honey sweet to behold
Each gyration, a narration
Step in step to steer forward
Thy birth is enriching
And a rich tribute to love
Oh, the splendid bonny baby!
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 9:50 AM UTC
Manifesting in the high noon sky
he swirls, and turning wheels
and dives, while
I in awestruck silence wait,
and breathless wish him nearer my eye
so I could note the size of his wide frame.
Perfection of wildness on the wing,
buzzard bird your freedom
sets my soul a-sing
in praise of courageous will
which dominates yet contains everything
woven like iron bands in feathered steel.
Mewing calls splitting the air resound
as gliding in view another there
impedes one bird's
upward ****** with solitaire
ballet of female pirouette, gyration slows
so gentle talons can touch fearsome breast.
Monumental the speed when wills clash,
sparks spread earthward as birds
circle in victory rush,
while I with bated breath catch
the best moment when nature takes over
as she screams then leads him back home.
Sep 27, 2016
Sep 27, 2016 at 12:01 PM UTC
the heron
of your arrival
lands squarely
its talons set
on fields of
awakened grass
as the slender bell
of the morning
shouts into clear void.
its unequivocal voice
shatters the windows
of this home's numb silence
where mouths play back and forth,
the jocose allusion
of a blank audience
where the laughter sledges
an amalgam
of fire ferrying proudly
over a flight of moon-stream
that stretches its white bones
in a quotidian gyration,
fanning out these
words almost as if infinite.
Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 10:19 PM UTC
The bar-tailed godwit
caught birddom by surprise
When word got out
just how far this bird flies
A juvenile Limosa lapponica,
satellite tag 2-3-4-6-8-4
flew nonstop from Alaska
to the Tasmanian shore!
13,560 kilometers nonstop,
eleven days and nights
A new world record for
marathon bird flights
“From Alaska to Tasmania?
The devil, you say!”
cried ravens and crows,
“Every bird knows
Claiming to fly 8400 miles
To the Tasmanian isles—
is the height of audacity!
No bird has the capacity
We protest with pugnacity
Demanding veracity!”
The godwits conveyed
a very chill groove
They had, after all
nothing to prove
having set the prior
world records in ‘20 and ‘21
A controversy was brewing
Would their achievements
be undone?
A commission was appointed
for a bird’s-eye review
into the facts of the matter
the truth to pursue
Wise owls were chosen
to adjudicate this claim
To settle once and for all
who deserved the acclaim
First item considered
had scientific backing
Since satellite data
Allowed accurate tracking
Of the tagged young bird’s
ultramarathon flights
The facts indisputable
No need for bird fights,
ending investigation into
this migration gyration
Bar-tailed godwits awarded
the Oiseau de Plume
for being the farthest nonstop
flying bird in the room
The Arctic terns too
received acclamation
For flying the farthest
In their migration—pole to pole,
24,000 miles each year
causing most birds present to
stand up and cheer
in spontaneous applause—
But not all birds were willing
To concede their cause
Displaying proclivity
to resist the festivity
The crows and ravens
As they stormed out the door
vowed in unison, wings clenched,
“Nevermore!”
Mark Toney © 2022
Based on a true story with poetic license added for spice.
When was the last time you flew 8400 miles nonstop? A bar-tailed godwit flew nonstop over 8400 miles from Alaska to Tasmania from October 13 through 24, 2022, setting a new world record for nonstop bird flight.
Oct 29, 2022
Oct 29, 2022 at 10:21 PM UTC
The morning had a dampness that penetrated
what, at the time
seemed to be everything in the realm,
a dampness of renewal,
a catalyst to decomposition.
I stared out from the sidewalk at nothing in particular.
My gaze brought in everything
from ruffing leaves in the forest across the street,
to the acute shake
and gyration
from the hummus below.
The damp old leaves of ancient years long past,
shifting with the various decayed wood
of fallen trees,
both shifting and merging,
embracing and destroying;
each becoming the other,
each creating something new.
They say spring is a time for birth
and new life in this world of light yet,
they neglect the fact
that new life cannot be created
without the end of an old life.
This new life is really rebirth, renewal;
a completion of the cycle.
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 11:22 PM UTC
Extravagantly exorbitant mentality panacea
Pretentious eidetic’s ubiquity mnemonics
Extraversion embezzlement extortion mens rea
Endergonic laconic cacophony phonics
Preterite rendition enclitic equilibrist motion
Mystic symbiosis dharma spiritual sky
Brusque macabre abjections the gist of the potion
Straight up forever ontology on high
Obdurately abstruse vituperatively vociferous
Juxtaposition apparition myriad avarice
Orotund sonorous diction complicitous
Multifariously versatile nefarious nemesis
Mirador bartizan phantasmagoria aesthetics
Guidon gyration excursion integration
Sorcerous alchemizing interstitial endemics
Chaos charisma objectified tribulation
Conjurous apothegms clitoral apomixis
Exude emote surrogate extrapolation
Astral projection littoral hypotaxis
Kinetic supremacy homogeneity gravitation
Coercible coalescent cohesion dexterities
Adjunct conjunction conjecture acuity
Platonic pragmatic prosaic austerities
Extemporaneous impromptu innuendo fortuity
Propinquity habitation harbinger spectra
Perplexing paradox tenacity rostra
Intensely cogitational abstract mantra
Penumbral exigency , umbrage per contra
Theoretical incursion grandiloquent ne plus ultra
Exogamy of homoplasy sic itur ad astra
Quiescent serendipity surreal anestra
Jul 15, 2021
Jul 15, 2021 at 9:18 PM UTC