"hastens" poems
.
It's here again...
Heavy downpour...
I inhaled the rain,
cloying with petrichor.
Standing at my window,
looking out...
Street lamps struggled aglow.
People with brollies walking about.
My eyes reached out to the heavens,
tracing these glassy beads
as they'd free fall...
Falling by the sheets,
the pattering hastens,
periodically punctuated
by the thunder's call.
Mind is drifting and floating,
intently listening to a
million love wishes...
Liquid beauty...melding, sketching...
In light entrapped splashes.
Raindrops descend and come,
into my still life tonight...
Won't you will me numb,
with your chilly bite...
Wide-eyed enamour...
Catching a stray droplet or two.
Riding the tail of a zephyr,
finding a place where
no trouble could ensue.
An errant gust blew
to meet with me.
The refreshing moist
meets my parted lips...
Inhaling deep in this reverie...
Into a sea of tranquillity,
my mind slowly dips...
Sigh... If the droplets were kisses...
I would savour each and every one.
If the moist wind came and caresses
I would meet it in a tight embrace
till the break of sun.
What a sight...
Almost surreal it seems...
As the light from the surrounding
lamps dances playfully...
Dispersing and exploding into a
barrage of shattered beams.
Before it gets subdued in the drops
caught by the leaves on a nearby tree...
The drops would trickle
and fall before merging,
forming stranded puddles
unable to flow...
Rippling... Splashing... Reflecting...
An image...
Borne out of a fantastic show.
An image of beating hearts,
overlapping one another...
Speaking of consequential love
and feelings so true
Intertwined...
in the promise of forever...
Slowly retrieving itself into an...
image of you...
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 7:18 AM UTC
Across the leaden sky
A gull shooting a cry,
Hastens to his final task
Before the sky puts on his mask.
No one knew what his final task was
Except that his time drew to a pause
And that he had to hasten because
From the open he had to retreat.
This the bird knew, but he was wayward;
He swam in the airy waves, beak forward,
Skating-flying, but always eastward,
Heedless of the dark - like a poet.
©LazharBouazzi, 2017
Mar 28, 2017
Mar 28, 2017 at 5:00 PM UTC
At a towering height it looms o're me
Hiding me within its shadow,
It bears the face of a phantom
with eyes that are dark and hollow.
With one jagged claw around my throat
and the other to my heart pressed
Its voice is a deafening static,
it will never let me rest.
It speaks with empty words that sounds so horribly like truth.
It praises distrust and confusion
while demanding the need for proof.
It feeds off the nervous breath that I breathe,
Its intoxicated by thoughts of gloom,
It ***** the life out from my lungs
and my happiness it consumes.
The shadow overwhelms me,
now my body's growing numb
I wait in mortal terror
for the darkness to overcome.
Then something catches my attention,
is it fear in those empty eyes?
Its grip begins to loosen
and its static sounds more like lies.
There's a whisper moving gently
like cool water upon the sand
He kindly beckons to me
asking that I take His hand.
The jagged claws have lost that grip
which once held me strong
Now I can face it eye to eye
as I should have all along
The shadow fears the Whisper's truth,
and it shudders in trepidation
the battle's won, the foe undone
now in retreat it hastens.
I inhale deeply and then a voice
with no language and no tone
breathes over me, saying lovingly
"You are not alone"
Nov 20, 2017
Nov 20, 2017 at 9:00 PM UTC
Lovely Spring,
A brief sweet thing,
Is swift on the wing;
Gracious Summer,
A slow sweet comer,
Hastens past;
Autumn while sweet
Is all incomplete
With a moaning blast,--
Nothing can last,
Can be cleaved unto,
Can be dwelt upon;
It is hurried through,
It is come and gone,
Undone it cannot be done,
It is ever to do,
Ever old, ever new,
Ever waxing old
And lapsing to Winter cold.
3.4k
The tide rises, the tide falls,
The twilight darkens, the curlew calls;
Along the sea-sands damp and brown
The traveller hastens toward the town
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
Darkness settles on the roofs and walls
But the sea, the sea in darkness calls;
The little waves, with their soft, white hands,
Efface the footprints in the sands
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
The morning breaks; the steeds in their stalls
Stamp and neigh, as the hostler calls;
The day returns, but nevermore
Returns the traveller to the shore,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
3.3k
it begins about mid-evening,
the edges of the rug being pulled
ever so gently.
intoxicated feet
do not notice a room slipping
beneath them.
it hastens nearer to morning;
as the magic carpet ride is
coming to a close
we begin to pat our bodies
& notice the things that fell from us.
sobriety. clothes. drugs. money....
ego walls pain
After inventory is taken,
the day starts without waiting for
your tired eyes.
oh, the saddest meeting of eyes,
with the swiftest passing of friends, drugs, memories, laughter
evening abliss.
I am dropped,
center stage -- reality.
at the same moment the drugs wear off. the last quarter is spent. the first rays of the sun peek through
and the last meeting of eyes
as the last glimpse of a shoe
disappears at the door's edge.
the rug has been pulled
reality
and the curtains have been drawn
slumber.
Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 2:03 PM UTC
Everyday is Mother's day,
Sweet, Golden, dear,
Bruises to kiss and cuts to wrap,
And wishes: Hope your day holds cheer;
Helpful ways never asked,
And drooping souls to hurry;
Gifts to open and meals to plan,
There's no time to worry.
But mistakes bloom on to Wisdom,
Waiting grows power,
And love, that was the reason,
Is a wage for each lonely, and sad hour.
And everyday Daddy and Daughter make willful and sweet,
Hastens the time till that great day
When hope and haste meet.
~Marian~
Oct 30, 2012
Oct 30, 2012 at 10:30 PM UTC
By those soft tods of wool
With which the air is full;
By all those tinctures there,
That paint the hemisphere;
By dews and drizzling rain
That swell the golden grain;
By all those sweets that be
I’ the flowery nunnery;
By silent nights, and the
Three forms of Hecate;
By all aspects that bless
The sober sorceress,
While juice she strains, and pith
To make her philters with;
By time that hastens on
Things to perfection;
And by yourself, the best
Conjurement of the rest:
O my Electra! be
In love with none but me.
2.8k
She comes forth
like waves slipping over
the sand
again and again
delivered from darkness
coveting the light
And light is her signature.
A conundrum.
Light erasing light.
How can this be?
I will tell you.
Light is the companion
of the dark
trips joyfully in its shadows
And this dance
weaves a potent tale
of a two-faced goddess
one face peering intently into the dark
one lit by the morning sun
Yet darkness rules the day
hastens the twilight
gives measure to the
dimming
and finally
captures the last of the light
in a sea green bottle
We are drawn into that night
valiantly
or not
weeping for lost opportunities
or not
but at the end
waltzing into the unknown
Yet I do not suppose
darkness without light
according to my theology
a life that ends in simple extinction
cannot be
it is a null set
The fundamental equations
do not permit it
nor can my simple mind
fathom such depths
So in my dotage
I repair to wine and song
to ease the pain
of these uncertainties
and then to poetry
to catalog the human condition
and leave a trace
that yet might sparkle
in the instant of my demise
Apr 30, 2017
Apr 30, 2017 at 7:30 PM UTC
I am like a lone wolf who hastens across the tundra of Northern Hemispheres, with stealth.
Our temperature has risen and the Chinook boldly reveals her austere formation across the vast expanse of alpine variation.
I understand that your customs may be nomadic, as they roam across the treeless plains of baron socialisation.
But will they lead you beyond the West coast of Ecuador?
Therefore, always remember that layers of permanently frozen subsoils are designed for terrestrial corridors of arctic sojourns.
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 12:41 PM UTC
one more for the great lakes that divide and unite her
all on that day:
1. will be a treaty writ tween me and
the cosmos,
they permit me worship them,
even to join them as another
meaningless gleaming,
if i cease to write -
having used
every word
in my kindness kitbag possess -
twice
2. my trials will be certified as ended,
for the grifting/gifting
ability of a man to
give and dream, to fool himself,
man's obligatory gift, gone
the will to believe in
anticipation
3. a full on peace,
no mere armistice pretense
till the no more next one is the norm
for to the sun, submission,
uttering
a confession
already writ
*A generation goes, and a generation comes,
but the earth remains forever.
The sun rises, and the sun goes down,
and hastens to the place where it rises.
The wind blows to the south
and goes around to the north;
around and around goes the wind,
and on its circuits the wind returns.
All streams run to the sea,
but the sea is not full;
to the place where the streams flow,
there they flow again.
All things are full of weariness;
a man cannot utter it;
the eye is not satisfied with seeing,
nor the ear filled with hearing.
What has been is what will be,
and what has been done is what will be done,
and there is nothing new under the sun.
Is there a thing of which it is said,
“See, this is new”?
It has been already
in the ages before us.
There is no remembrance of former things,
nor will there be any remembrance
of later things yet to be among those who come after.*
Ecclesiastes 1:4-11
May 7, 2017
May 7, 2017 at 9:53 AM UTC
#
I dream of a world
where you're not raging at me
or ridiculing me to your friends
for simply
my just being me..
Where you're not throwing me
under the bus in order
to make things go your way.
There is a lodgepole pine,
a stick of wood that you fancy
as a staff in front of the crowd
But like every single one of them--
it is only a prop
to keep you from falling over..
Wordsmith-formed, your poetic
carvings
into your staff, only weaken it
And no one in your selected crowd
has the courage
or the substance
to tell you that the drawn out nature
of each creative word
only hastens the prop's break.
. . .
The weight of the brass, polished
on your ship, sinking down
will break the mast at its base..
to that place.. all the way, down--
the place where you have c a r v e d
*your most
finely
selected word.*
#
Mar 14, 2021
Mar 14, 2021 at 11:44 AM UTC
there's this girl.
she's wearing a smile. a smile that's as wide as the moon and bright as the sun. her eyes sparke; her hair shines. she walks with a bounce in her step, chattering nonstop with her bubbly, eccentric voice. the world to her is a stage; a glamorous paradise.
she's beautiful. she's happy. everyone loves her. alas, she's misunderstood.
there's another girl.
she has a perpetual frown on her face, one that can't be wiped away. her sadness has took its toll on her, and she's drowning in a never-ending abyss. a chasm overflowing with every thought and emotion she's ever had. her eyes are downcast; her hair is gnarled. she walks so she's unnoticed, just sliding and weaving her way through the crowd.
she's hideous. she's depressed. no one likes her. alas, she's misunderstood.
the only difference between these girls is that one hastens to show herself, while the other is hidden away, like a lost thought.
people are not always what you think they are. a misunderstanding can go a long way.
Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 4:50 PM UTC
Tell me love,what I must do.
I know the landscape in essnce
I am no pretender.
Inspiration then perspiration
A torrid sweat as the tempo. Rises BUT...
Allow me to speak your
name in fervent whisper
Again and again.
Permit me to traverse your mind
As your sensuous body follows.
I am there. Now here now all places at once
Seeking. Seeking
The small of your back
I am listening as your breathing hastens then slacks.
Feeling as your body shudders. Reaches and entwines.
Allow me access ever so gently.
Tasting. Savouring the hollows and curves
The recesses. The tactile mounds the essense of you.
Dam this poem is making my hands shake.
We are molded skin to skin now. A rythym.
Hot . A dance. Stay with me darling this is nirvana.
Where do I end and you begin.
One.
I feel your desire your wanting to peak.but slow now soft now
The moment awaits still. We will batter the gates stil and come rushing
To ****** As one. Stay. Slow .soft.
Here and now my darling. Hold tight as we soar my love
Over the falls we go to wash in a tide of release.
Yes. Yes.
We are there.
Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 11:36 PM UTC
“She who has infused every minute of my day,
Hastens through titillating my endorphins.
Absconded hiding within myself,
As blue crystals glaring teeter in the sea,
As we sanction the reticence of ardor,
While the sea eradicates its perennial effigy,
As infinite cascades eradicate beneath us,
As the water stride procures to the sandy shore,
Where the waves shatter on unsettled rocks,
As once again the clear light bursts as sun sets,
Enmeshed in a fabric of palpable vibrant colors,
Portrayed as that of a burlesque plumeria of infinites,
The plumeria burst of aureoles immortal love,
Unyielding its pedals as the devouring sea rotates,
Will ephemeral demise procure in the deep blue sea?
Over its blue pedaled face an astringent frown,
We have embarked on a promenade of love my dear,
I now stand before you no longer with emptiness,
Only perennial affection that you are mine and I yours,
In our Aureoles of Plumeria”
By AG 03/10/2018 ©
Apr 10, 2018
Apr 10, 2018 at 6:52 PM UTC
Leaves of a branch sway.
Onto the ground it falls.
Venom engulfs its veins.
Instinct tells it’s wrong.
Neurotoxins overflow.
Grounding my feet deep.
Intoxication wraps my throat.
Seizures follow through my soul.
Hope remains still.
Awaiting despair.
Roses bleeding out.
Death hastens.
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 3:12 PM UTC
Layman's troubles, you fickle bode,
Who picks apart my breaths incentives,
And hastens my growing old.
Oh why can not you find
But one excuse to leave me,
For if the move was partnered
I'd grin and jump across the sea,
To find a locked up place to hide
Til' you decide to change your mind,
And sure you will,
You have before,
Then came with troubles new;
Searched, and found me hidden beneath the floor.
I hope some day you'll understand
My eyes of darkened shades,
And why they churn a fire burning,
Wishing you would end these days.
Only then will I choose to leap
Across the sea once more.
For a chance to walk on ground not burdened
By my troubles
That burn all open doors.
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 2:34 AM UTC
How the hell is it possible to feel this way when our lips only brushed for a split second?
When just looking at you makes my stomach fill up with butterflies.
Your strong hands reassure me when I’m too scared to kiss you, then the fireworks go off with a light show better than the 4th of July.
When your lips brushed gentler than a butterflies wings onto mine, the butterflies that only appear when I’m with you fluttered.
How can you, my best friend, make me feel this way?
When I’m with you my pulse hastens so my heart can tell how much that gentle, half a second kiss made me fall for you even more.
My mind is like a race horse running in your direction, but never reaching you, but never changing it’s way, when just the thought of you jumps into my memory a smile pours across my face.
I've never had a name for this feeling before, but the ,shortest, kiss of all kisses made me realize that this is love.
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 10:50 PM UTC
Through the night,
rode the poorest knight,
o’er vale, o’er innocent glade
with thundering and beating heart,
that matched the quickened pace,
of the steeds nimble stride.
Tho’ the stormy gale opposes,
and the might of winters snowy,
blizzard, should keep him at bay,
he rises to the challenge
and crushes them ‘neath his heels,
When at times the spirit is low,
and normally a liquor does restore,
he hastens past the tavern,
to where his mount does drink and eat,
and makes fast the saddle,
in order to make advances on his merry
quest.
When the day he has been riding
for presents itself with fate and circumstance,
at its left and right,
and this poorest knight, tho’ stout of heart,
and a little bit stout of figure,
might be bequeathed with one
small gaze at Her.
He had ridden many miles in many days,
for what purpose he had no knowledge,
although, now that fate has blessed him
with the cause of his lengthy travels, and quest,
he might smile, and become the richest knight,
that other might envy, and wonder at,
indeed this is what did happen.
the village, town, and city,
all were amazed that this poor
nobleman did acquire someone
such as her, whose looks were
stunning at the least, and were
nigh short of some divine providence,
and making.
That when he rode through town,
with her arms wrapped around him,
the down did gawp, and wonder how,
that he did prove them wrong, and
hadn’t a care for their rude gawping
faces.
He and She,
carried on unto the sunset,
whereupon not a soul saw them
again, nor needed to,
they knew where to find them,
they were happy, and needed not to
be bothered by the troubled
villagers, and issues.
The poor knight,
is now living as a king,
though not wealthy of riches,
or prominence, or land,
but of the true happiness,
only love can bring.
Jan 19, 2012
Jan 19, 2012 at 11:54 PM UTC
Shadows surrounding, pray they not see,
pray they not listen, dare i not breathe.
Whispers that deafen, and words that reveal,
this lucid veil that will not conceal.
Hollow and vacant, empty and cold,
their blackened eyes upon me now.
The night has deadened with a deathly chill,
the air so silent, the heart so still.
As darkness hastens and light recedes,
i turn from myself to a place within.
A sanctum of solace where no-one can see,
walls without doors, a prison of dreams.
Behind the curtain and beyond the walls,
a barren waste in a desolate land.
Under the stars and endless skies,
my solitary shell, a kingdom all mine.
Roaming the earth and drifting through time,
i wander yet further, so far from this life.
But into the distance, reflections like shimmer,
refracting rays, the hall of mirrors.
Drawn to this place like flies to the light,
a spectacle of colour beneath the night.
Images flicker and pictures so real,
projecting desires and all of my fears.
This looking glass that echoes my soul,
a baleful glimpse of a life unknown.
Of broken thoughts and truths undone,
devotions lost, unrequited love.
Recoiled in horror, i fall to my knees,
with head in my hands, desperation screams.
A storm so loud it breaks the heavens,
a wind so fierce it shakes the trees.
The mirrors shatter and light shines through,
returning to myself, a place i once knew.
The fallen curtain and the crashing walls,
all that was becomes nothing at all.
Darkness recedes and whispers fade,
the blistering sun upon my face.
Distorted visions they disappear,
the world around me becoming clear.
As everything becomes illuminated,
what i've become is emanated.
No more the voices and all is clearer,
this lucid veil, this two-sided mirror.
Reflections surrounding, pray I not see,
Pray I not listen, yet I still breathe.
Never to change and never to heal,
always behind my two-sided veil.
Oct 7, 2012
Oct 7, 2012 at 7:59 PM UTC
.
Its dark outside
the roads are wet
Within my thoughts
I can’t forget
The love that shines
upon my heart
As this new day
hastens to start
A skyline wakes
of street light glare
In silence that
the dawn does share
For soon the sunrise
I shall see
When your sweet love
appears to me
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 7:35 AM UTC
my desperate gears grind
in hopes of vanquishing
the soft shoe shuffle
and sly smile serenade
but i am a stranger in
this clockwork land
and a fire now begins to burn
in the foundations of this folly
i have built
bitter taste now follows
her sweet furrowed brow
and rampant doubts flee the slow fear of
her eyes
as i cast myself headlong
at each broken future to repair
futile hope
she hastens behind gathering up
each spent medicine we laboured
to heal our lives with
desperate gears grind into the night
and our sweating bodies entwined in this
intoxicating brew of false hopes and twisted visions
soft shoe shuffle of moving ever forward
soft sly smile serenade calling us to the bright future
they are a slow death that envelopes us
save her please
Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 4:43 AM UTC
The last he spoke he said it all
he said your back was to the wall.
and far from being her best friend
a man who'd rather see it end
You just can't argue
with his truth
it's just his way, for in his youth
He dreamed of places
make-pretend
big open spaces
where he'd spend
In long embraces
hours on end
through fields chasing closest friend.
but that's not how
it's gonna go
he won't reaping what you sow.
Born at night
but not last night
I see the problem with his plight
He wants to make
the pieces fit
complete the scene his mind has writ
but forcing love
to take it's place
to glue the pieces down, a waste
just take a picture
make it last
'cause that one will be fading fast
Let her go
and shut the door
Sow true love and reap far more.
the last we spoke
I said it all
my tendency to blame the fall
and all the angst
scorned love could spare
on fires of Hell, which can't compare
how well I argue
with the truth
it's been that way since troubled youth
I dreamed of forests
not pretend
of wooded hollows with my friend
where trees grew tall
but wind could bend
where fires could rage but love would send
the rain which hastens
souls to mend
that's not our story, so, The End.
Dec 30, 2015
Dec 30, 2015 at 9:46 PM UTC