"hovered" poems
We two kept house, the Past and I,
The Past and I;
I tended while it hovered nigh,
Leaving me never alone.
It was a spectral housekeeping
Where fell no jarring tone,
As strange, as still a housekeeping
As ever has been known.
As daily I went up the stair,
And down the stair,
I did not mind the Bygone there—
The Present once to me;
Its moving meek companionship
I wished might ever be,
There was in that companionship
Something of ecstasy.
It dwelt with me just as it was,
Just as it was
When first its prospects gave me pause
In wayward wanderings,
Before the years had torn old troths
As they tear all sweet things,
Before gaunt griefs had torn old troths
And dulled old rapturings.
And then its form began to fade,
Began to fade,
Its gentle echoes faintlier played
At eves upon my ear
Than when the autumn’s look embrowned
The lonely chambers here,
The autumn’s settling shades embrowned
Nooks that it haunted near.
And so with time my vision less,
Yea, less and less
Makes of that Past my housemistress,
It dwindles in my eye;
It looms a far-off skeleton
And not a comrade nigh,
A fitful far-off skeleton
Dimming as days draw by.
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..
Save from the hidden nests of birds,
it was the only one there...isolated,
like an isle...crested on the leveled
top of a gorge...its way down or up
was through a hand-carved series of
steps on its slope...at its front was a
curved gorge......one would think,
it was trying to cross over
the cottage was small, weather-beaten,
desolate......its wooden walls seemed to
have shrunk...its faded colors proclaimed
its age...its having survived past storms....
from its window, the stream was seen,
and heard, flowing on and on between
these two precipitous valleys.
light came from the sun...and moon,
music was provided by the murmurs of
the forceful wind, the continuous flow of
water on the stream, the stirring of the leaves,
the crackling of branches and twigs, the birds'
singing in the spring...the pounding of heavy
rains on its roof...and countless other hymns
of nature......the dweller had heard them all...
beneath a lonely moon glow,
when nights were cold,
there hovered low 'pon its aged roof,
rounds of layered fog...like a series of
steps....like a stairway to the sky...
fog slyly crept, and wilfully shrouded
the cottage.....it vanished from view,
the two gorges and the stream, hushed,
in the dark loneliness of that secluded
spot......their vulnerabilities, trapped
inside....misshapen silhouettes...
in light and in dark,
the whistles of nearing and departing
boats....were wailing, haunting calls,
piercing the peaceful calm of the valleys, or,
maybe, the stilled complacence of the cottage,
or...of the one living in that lonely cottage,
...lost, or gone astray, now weary and worn,
willing to be found...longing to be reunited
.......with the light and warmth of love...
the cottage, the gorges, and the stream
would be loneliest,
without the cottage dweller...
Sally
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
August 27th, 2018
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 6:51 PM UTC
1548
Meeting by Accident,
We hovered by design—
As often as a Century
An error so divine
Is ratified by Destiny,
But Destiny is old
And economical of Bliss
As Midas is of Gold—
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**squinting up the leaves of the bountiful tree
i espied a mango ripe and soft with goodness
as the sun came gently filtering through
aloft the wings of a little fellow with a long beak
and a brisk song to celebrate dinner found
my feathered visitor hovered above the vintage prize
and as his thirsty proboscis drilled the succulent mango
the warm enticing juice, natural and healthy as ever,
drip-settled in the base of my hungry open eye
i thought i heard a flourish in the triumphant bird-song
such as one at the fall of a big wicket; and
in that slow-motion moment, i knew: the mango was his,
and it'd now be eat and let eat, till the last delectable mango**
Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 10:19 AM UTC
I left the water boiling sanity into the pores of my skin as my face hovered over the ***
My eyes close to the beat of Brick in the Wall by Pink Floyd.
The countdown.
5
4
3
2
I stopped the timer before 1,
Let the water scorch the tea leaves until their screams fuse to a whisper at the bottom of the mug.
I needed my sanity back,
So I lifted the mug and let the flavor of peppermint wash between the chapped cracks of my lips,
Steaming the melody of sanity onto my tongue,
my tea was cold.
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 12:17 AM UTC
As a child, they could not keep me from wells
And old pumps with buckets and windlasses.
I loved the dark drop, the trapped sky, the smells
Of waterweed, fungus and dank moss.
One, in a brickyard, with a rotted board top.
I savoured the rich crash when a bucket
Plummeted down at the end of a rope.
So deep you saw no reflection in it.
A shallow one under a dry stone ditch
Fructified like any aquarium.
When you dragged out long roots from the soft mulch
A white face hovered over the bottom.
Others had echoes, gave back your own call
With a clean new music in it. And one
Was scaresome, for there, out of ferns and tall
Foxgloves, a rat slapped across my reflection.
Now, to pry into roots, to finger slime,
To stare, big-eyed Narcissus, into some spring
Is beneath all adult dignity. I rhyme
To see myself, to set the darkness echoing.
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A pale homemade dress hung to dry in the blazing sun;
It's original color not quite clear but presumably purple.
That stain that never faded, a spot of innocence...
I closed my eyes and remembered the night she wore it,
Childlike with that smile of hers.
He threw promises of love and eternal bliss;
She believed his words and followed him to the train-yard.
An invisible moon hovered over them as they entered
An old rusted cart, abandoned for years and years.
He didn't bother taking her dress off,
She couldn't wait to feel loved.
Right there beneath a dark sky, a man stole a girl's innocence.
But how can love find it's way through the Cairo Slums?
Where human lay on top of another, like cracked bricks;
They bleed.
A grayish sleeveless undershirt hung to dry in the blazing sun,
It's original color not quite clear but presumably white.
That rip that was never mended, a tear of hope...
I closed my eyes and remembered that morning he wore it,
As he maneuvered through downtown traffic
Trying to make easy money, as ordered by his jobless father.
A child of seven or eight running around with beads of
Sweat rolling down his tiny face.
Mr. Policeman grabbed him by his shirt, slapped him around,
Beat him to the ground for approaching Mrs. Businesswoman in
Her air-conditioned car.
But how can this child find hope for the future in the Cairo Slums?
Where human lay on top of another, like cracked bricks;
They bleed.
Let me take you down to the Cairo Slums,
Where people are animals in their nests
Of carton-paper, waiting for the big bad wolf,
To huff and to puff and to blow their lives away.
But soon you'll realize that evil's not born but raised,
That hate is brewed, and money is everything.
Let us disregard this urban jungle under a glass jar,
Let us use them for advertising or marketing our products,
Products they could never afford.
O' what irony, what strife.
The girl and the child never had a chance,
but they deserve one.
They bleed.
They bleed.
So without further a adieu,
Welcome to the Cairo Slums.
Oct 25, 2011
Oct 25, 2011 at 12:21 PM UTC
1063
Ashes denote that Fire was—
Revere the Grayest Pile
For the Departed Creature’s sake
That hovered there awhile—
Fire exists the first in light
And then consolidates
Only the Chemist can disclose
Into what Carbonates.
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STARFISH
Washed up upon the beach
a tiny shape,
dry abandoned,
once danced upon the waves,
partied with the seas hair,
nobody cared,
sometimes hovered neath the waves,
has plenty of arms,
but unable to wave,
to summon a little assistance,
this fella lost his anchorage,
adhesive pads became released,
so with the turned of the tide,
laid on the beach dried.
Perhaps a child may collect him,
while she's playing on the golden beach,
a summer's drift,
just have to wait and see.
(C) Livvi
INSPIRED BY ZACK
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 6:44 PM UTC
11-6-14
I saw my name on your contacts list
and wondered how many times your finger hovered over the "call" button.
---
I hope you, or at least someone
thinks at least some things about me are cute
the way my hair sticks up and then flops over when I try to fix it
and, when pinned up, the way it becomes gradually messier over the course of the day.
When I mouth the words to a song on the school bus,
scrunching my eyes and headbanging,
or when I spin around on my heels, and try to look graceful.
---
Frick, I shouldn't try to write about love, i'm just a thirteen-year-old girl
who grew up on the internet
and doesn't care about the ****** music she's listening to.
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 7:27 PM UTC
512
The Soul has Bandaged moments—
When too appalled to stir—
She feels some ghastly Fright come up
And stop to look at her—
Salute her—with long fingers—
Caress her freezing hair—
Sip, Goblin, from the very lips
The Lover—hovered—o’er—
Unworthy, that a thought so mean
Accost a Theme—so—fair—
The soul has moments of Escape—
When bursting all the doors—
She dances like a Bomb, abroad,
And swings upon the Hours,
As do the Bee—delirious borne—
Long Dungeoned from his Rose—
Touch Liberty—then know no more,
But Noon, and Paradise—
The Soul’s retaken moments—
When, Felon led along,
With shackles on the plumed feet,
And staples, in the Song,
The Horror welcomes her, again,
These, are not brayed of Tongue—
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∙∙∙◦◦•◎•◦◦∙∙∙
The dawn of daybreak
soldiers in full armor
I am in aim,
ready for battle
trumpets flung up high
a chant of war arises
With a full force we run
up roaring,
and I trust in no one
carrying pride my side
and all I am,
a child with promises
In my mind was anger
heart wants revenge
unknowingly,
I'm beginning to falter
the enemy took-
my vigor's and strength
Deluded I fall out
losing hopes,
and fear was all about,
vultures circled
darkness hovered
blame was all around
But on the Sky...
A light seeks below
I cried out to the Lord,
a second chance
from the agony I bare,
give me a revelation
out of this lamentation
Then He told me,
Give me all of you
& I'll show you wonders
you never even knew,
visions of truth
For I am, Who I am
The Beginning, The End
And the light took me-
far and away
and the mist has filled-
my heart
behold a greater glory
has come forth
My faith begins again
night turned to day
I have fought the fight
He Crowned Me...
A Tomorrow
victory has won its price
Jul 27, 2017
Jul 27, 2017 at 9:59 AM UTC
Taste me with all of your senses
Inhale my essence......breathe me in deep.....
Darkness pressed against hunger..
Sliding my tongue, I drew it in like a feast
Savouring the taste as it passed my lips...
Shadows cast silken threads
Screaming desire!
Spinning silken webs around my body,
Searing my skin, as hot breath spilled itself
Against my salted flesh...
Moisture and heat fused,
Savage, pulsating, lingering, where wicked hovered
Sleek, against my heart’s beat...
Black satin shivered beneath wildfire hips;
Slow dancing a sweetened heat,
Writhing beneath the shimmer-gleam;
As I lay for him, lathed by the parched desert of his
Relentless tongue...wearing me wet....
I moaned across his taut flesh,
Strewn beneath the sliding wander of skin thrusts,
Drowning in a plum-dark eclipse of heat!
Where tenderness lay opened for him...
Teasing breaths rushed kisses between thighs
Quivering,
Wanting to break free, the restraints,
Stretching my body beneath his tasting..
I felt the essence beating ****** tempo's,
Passion succumbing to insatiable need;
And I gave him my body's silk-white,
Trembling under the furtive delirium of our fever...
The fierce moon eclipsed
A serum to slide my quickened breath;
And his eyes watched, deep in dark, unchanging depths,
As I lay naked in his arms....................
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 4:28 PM UTC
They amputated
Your thighs off my hips.
As far as I'm concerned
They are all surgeons. All of them.
They dismantled us
Each from the other.
As far as I'm concerned
They are all engineers. All of them.
A pity. We were such a good
And loving invention.
An aeroplane made from a man and wife.
Wings and everything.
We hovered a little above the earth.
We even flew a little.
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A kite with faded colors
and unwoven threads,
once made with care,
now not much more than shreds.
It hovered with sorrow
longing to fly free,
but found it was held fast
by an unwavering string.
The cord was not much to look at,
most people would say.
But it was charming to the kite
in its own humble way.
It was vulnerable in places
and had a knot here and there,
but it never once faltered.
In its task, it took care.
It held the kite tightly
and made sure it stayed.
Otherwise, the high aiming kite
would surely float away.
Although the twine was secure,
gripping the helpless kite,
without the kite’s grasp,
the string would never take flight.
The able piece of rope would’ve
spent all its days
lying dormant on the dust,
never to be raised.
The kite helped it dream,
to see the sky and clouds,
and the string made sure
they both stayed near the ground.
The kite had seen other ropes,
crafted more tasteful and long.
They were appealing on the surface,
but never as strong.
They always broke off,
not steady enough to stay,
but this plain, simple cord
was there day after day.
The kite learned to love it,
saw beauty out and inside.
They weren’t sure if they’d make it,
but they’d undoubtedly try
to hold each other in place
until the end of their time.
A simple, sound string
and a half-broken kite.
Apr 15, 2020
Apr 15, 2020 at 12:50 AM UTC
∙∙∙◦◦•◎•◦◦∙∙∙
Sometimes
(Just like these days)
When my heart
sang a placid song
the speaking brooks
meanders my soul
Wild hounds
hovered the meadows
And the sky was blue
ethereal as the billow
strews in shades anew
For Daybreak
is awake
On the fields
of glowing weeds
a subtle flower blooms
through the breeze
And to thee,
it kisses the gentle mist
Oh! what a Morning
Oh! what a day
When trees glistens
from beams
of never ending sun rays
made me so gay
so yes, it can be.
Sometimes
(Just like these days)
Like Diamonds & Gold
upon barren land
and rubies worn
by a maiden’s hand
Oh! what an Evening
Oh! what a way
When monarchs flew
from voluptuous crooks
dodging witches
and evil dukes
Callous, Treacherous
"A Foolish Irony"
might I say
but yes, it can be.
Sometimes
(Just like these days)
May 25, 2017
May 25, 2017 at 9:28 AM UTC
The thing about Narnia is
Narnia leaves
and the kids return back to the real world with
both reluctance
and vigour.
But what if Narnia didn't?
What if it hovered,
shadowed around the edge of their vision,
Aslan in the corner of their eye
the White Witch frosting across
bodies of water.
Would they go back to school?
Would they fall in love with someone who
just didn't get
the game
they used to play when they were kids?
"You bailed on us again, Peter"
"Susan, stop looking out the window!"
"But you've always loved sweets"
"Lucy, lions can't talk."
So yeah.
Start again,
*******
I mean,
you changed Narnia for the better,
Right?
Right?
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 8:05 AM UTC
I blamed it all on Scorpius—
my secret self, the sting, the lust,
my conditional approach to trust.
I shrugged at Mars when jealousy
and suspicion got the best of me;
I was just his astral devotee.
And my vengeful hate for all unjust?
It all went back to Scorpius,
but, alas, I hovered on the cusp;
I'm Libra now. I'll readjust.
Feb 7, 2011
Feb 7, 2011 at 10:43 AM UTC
He suffered more than he thought he would ever suffer,
he hovered over the demons frolicking in betrayal.
How dare they deny the villain they created,
the pain has been too much to bear.
But he knew someday he would long to chase what most fear to face,
a choice to embrace the dark despair then vanish without a trace.
Stricken by a darkening gray his heartstrings a woman played,
the punishment is much to endure, every soul eventually breaks.
So, what should the vengeful do for destiny to intervene,
should the vengeful wait, but he is no longer part of the human race.
A table for two drifting in the shadows, eyes lost in every soul,
one question is left to contemplate, then he whispers into the mirror.
The phantom's revenge, loves vicious betrayal,
a terrible tale shall bring your life to an end.
Jul 19, 2013
Jul 19, 2013 at 10:36 PM UTC
Half calf with a twist
As the line stands
Thinking she is a superimposed *****
Foregoing on
Barista
Waist like an elastic band
Hair waving hello in it’s pinkness
Homeless man coming in
Screaming
Obscenities
Something about Romans and Euripides
As if in a round about
Circle the store like a hovered cloud
Then out again
The rocker dude sipping his tea
The older man in the corner
Who constantly leaves
Wandering where one can’t see
Trailing behind his laptop and keys
Somewhere in this madness loop
Latte’s and Macchiato's brew
And I
With a child's flair
Take it all in, while I throw back my hair
Oct 25, 2018
Oct 25, 2018 at 11:28 PM UTC
I lost my inspiration long ago
Not quite sure where it's gone to
Somewhere around the time we went our separate ways
You know that I still think about you...
I still think about you.
My heart could not bare to be alone
Or spend a long time without use
I know that it's not your problem anymore
But after all, you were my muse.
Until this very day, I stare into the sky
Wondering where things went wrong
I admit I made mistakes along the way
Mistakes that can't be fixed with a song
And although I've managed to move along
The things I said then, still haunt my days
But I can't take it back now... No, I can't take it back now
"Forgiven" is just a fleeting word we say
Ever since that time, clouds have hovered overhead
With thunderstorms hot on my trail
I'm just waiting for the skies to open up
But I'm well aware that ship has sailed
I pray, that someday we'll wash ashore
Unto an Island made only for two
Then, we can live out the rest of our days
Under the shade like castaways, if we so choose.
Oct 8, 2015
Oct 8, 2015 at 4:03 AM UTC
A pale sky hovered above me as I walked
Through mountains and valleys vast,
Passing folk who chattered and talked
About days of old and the past,
Of when dragons roamed freely
Bringing terror and fire and fear,
Of when people breathed heavily
Wanting life while the end was near.
“For only beasts could bring the end of man.”
Although man was one of the greatest,
Condemning kin to their bedpan,
Truly, the worst ever created.
And yet they fear the children of time!
As if marvelous creatures so divine
Could bring harm to those without crime!
Who only care to build temple and shrine!
While the true masters of mankind
Are the ones breathing fire in the sky…
Dragonborn, the last of my kind,
As I wandered, I chose who to glorify.
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 2:34 AM UTC