"hushing" poems
She sits rather still, stitching her loom
shackled and bound to the whispering room
While the walls shutter speeches
she slouches then reaches,
her stitching resumed.
Threads of silk pool in spools
cast to the floor
Hushing the voices
as they pour
the voices repeat their crippling phrase
dancing the space
bound to their maze
Apr 11, 2018
Apr 11, 2018 at 5:49 PM UTC
She had bony legs and protruding hips
A hushing whisper on her lips
Those words that, long forgotten or even told
explain that bulimia had her in a choke hold.
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 12:24 PM UTC
What She Look Like?
…Like one
tenderly hushing
water in her lap
Elemental peace
No place to go
No more to be
…Like the ocean
in the background
of a photo on a warm spring day
belying
rage
and the random possible
thrash--
out!
at all guilty ******** in her path
Toss in the next sentient soul
who should happen to pass
within range
who should have seen
who should have known
what a storm could do….
Moody in the aftermath
and sorrier than rain
With the tide in retreat
grumbling excuses
Hiding out waist-deep in dusk’s Merlot
Waiting for night to sleep it off
to heal the rifts
cleanse the shame
Rising
yellow, bright— and
“What the hell happened, here?!”
_______________
Her hair
a winter’s tragedy of trees
upside down—
No wait— the wind has put her right
to ragged random branches
swaying, wet with intermittent hues
of dark and silver
caught in collar, flying inelegant and free
at the shoulders of the levee
tossed and softening shyly
sagging jaw and nose a stump of tree
All perspective changes…
if you watch a while—
She’ll raise her eyes
into the sunset
to catch an eagle
entering
flight
…and then you might…
______________
She looks like—
a pudgy robin
querying grass
mud soaked
that hides the fire of her breast
tugging at a worm
more than half her length
“I will feed them, **** you!
Give it up, you son of a snake!”
_______________
...Don’t miss her hour of music though
for anything
Encroaching darkness
from the rooftops
she listens to the hearts she breaks
Remember this in winter
she can give but she will take
it out on February
when you’re longing
for her
Nov 7, 2017
Nov 7, 2017 at 7:57 PM UTC
a home, above all else,
is familiar.
it does not have to be comfortable,
nor does it have to be full.
a home is probably a favorite place to be,
or maybe it houses some of the cruelest memories.
I like homes where I can drive quick and still avoid each upcoming pothole--
ones where old neighbors and new couples hunker down for their respectful chapters of life.
I like homes where I can walk around each obstacle in the kitchen with my eyes shut tight and only bang my shins a little bit.
a home is a sense, an intuition.
it is a place where you can dance while no one is watching.
you can fling your tears and regret at the walls and let them absorb your true feelings,
hushing you with their pillows and soft sounds and views.
a home is a home anywhere you choose it to be,
but above all else,
a home is familiar,
and that is a home to me.
May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 6:23 PM UTC
within the solitude of the dreadful span
of the blackened and bowed sky
the deep withered grass bends in the moonless dark
quieting the cold and murmuring earth
hushing her into fitful sleep
the air is hard
and the wind lacerates the night
razor incisions left behind
in the icy flesh of obsidian hours
open wounds howl like wolves
on the trail of prey in flight
I hunger for you
under the restless stars
Feb 4, 2025
Feb 4, 2025 at 11:29 PM UTC
I close my eyes.
I am there, when my body is not.
My surroundings are quite different,
But my mind leads me somewhere else.
Memories flood and my heart picks up pace.
I am on my way to my happy place.
A fan blowing icy air fills the room,
And it chills me,
But tight arms around me spills warmth into my body.
This feels right and perfect,
Nothing could ruin this moment.
Thunder booms in the rooms around us.
The arms pull me closer,
Threatening to pull me into his heart,
Completely engulfing me.
Sweet humming and a perfect heartbeat makes me want to cry,
I ask myself,
Why does this perfect being have to be put through so much pain?
But the night continues with inviting kisses and screaming whispers,
Hushing from a friend while happiness engulfs us.
The first “I love you.” Is received and responded.
“Be mine.” Is asked and answered with a kiss and a yes.
Drowsiness swallows us together, waking up to check on each other and pull closer.
Falling asleep in each other’s dreams, we beg not to have this end.
Then I snap back to reality and smile while my heart flutters,
Needing to go back to this or recreate.
Only one person can relate,
I go and talk to him and walk with him,
Fall again.
I’m his and always shall be.
Can’t he see?
He means the world to me.
He is my happy place.
His face,
And his voice.
I have no other choice.
His eyes are the prize,
My heart’s my disguise.
So to be apart would be bonkers,
He is the holder of my heart,
He is my happy place.
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 9:50 AM UTC
what's the proper etiquette for falling in love?
is it hushing lips and tripping over lungs?
is it squinting eyes and falling falling falling in mud?
because here we go down and down again,
but everyone's doing it, My Lovely Flowery Friend.
if i dive in between your legs,
and find other bodies there,
does that mean i should run in toxic fear?
are we supposed to dry out from licking up all these tears?
if i fall into your arms,
while they were open for someone else,
does that mean we're in love?
are we supposed to spit on the floor and call it ***
you said you've done this before,
you said it would be fun,
but when you've got me trying to wring my head dry,
of all my pretty girl lies,
i become less and less sure if this is love.
tell me, please tell me,
is this proper etiquette?
should i be building mountains out of my bones so you can touch the moon?
should i constantly carry around these pillows in case someone else makes you swoon?
i don't know what i'm doing,
but you say you do,
so i guess i'll bury my heart so it doesn't get broken by you you you.
Nov 16, 2017
Nov 16, 2017 at 2:05 PM UTC
A Hug,
How underrated
Available in the avail of a kiss,
Or the escape of one.
At birth
My mother showed me loves worth
Calmed the loudest cries
Hushing me
Just by holding me
Keeping me warm
Through the coldest times
As I grew older
This demonstration became more familiar
With family
So many I managed to manifest
My mannerisms allowed
Long embraces
That mattered so much!
All from a simple touch
The first time…
The first time,
With the one I loved
*********** lacked satisfaction
If after the contraction
We weren’t in each others arms…
Relaxin…
Chest to chest
You hold her
Can two hearts get any closer?
If my only love
Was to take her love away
In the most selfish absurd way
Spurned my love
She still wouldn’t be too stubborn to hug
Once the years have spun away
The best reconciliation
A Hug,
A gesture so benign
Even if I were to express
With my best friend, a canine
Or my only companion, a feline
People still wouldn’t see I
As constructed of **********
Alerting not a soul
Hearts become sole
Even when shared with animals.
Making Love,
Is not limited to ***
Or a kiss,
Instead,
The same bliss
Can be met
With a Hug.
What’s Love, But a Hug?
Oct 1, 2010
Oct 1, 2010 at 12:27 AM UTC
I like it here.
Damp air clinging to my skin, clinging to my clothes,
Grey skies laughing at pewter water,
Wind tossed seagulls reeling passed
Individual calls demanding attention; their joint voice hushing into the soundtrack of this place.
Buildings cluttered together for protection from blasting winter gales,
Yet all jostling for a glimpse of the harbour.
Guess in their own sleepy ways they like the thrill of danger.
Their red tiles roofs so reminiscent of Mediterranean towns,
But inescapably speak of home.
People traipse past, creating the shifting landscape of this place.
Their own lives and concerns mingling to create a vast sea of humanity,
Mirrored by the roiling sea...
Just beyond the safety of
This harbour.
This bench.
This packet of vinegar soaked chips.
I'm glad it's you here with me
Glad I can feel your soul soar with mine at the salty air and eroded stone.
Beside me
Hunched into your coat
Gazing out.
We don't touch
But I feel you there
With me.
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 10:49 PM UTC
Kisses
His lips
Stained red from cherry lip-gloss and his skin still damp from midnight lust.
Our arms and legs lay tangled beneath the stars.
These are the good nights
The, Nightmare, Night terror
Free nights.
Filled with burnt out cigarettes and hushed tones.
These are the nights
That push the cortisol from my mind to be replaced by a
Cheap serotonin fix.
These nights are my lullabies and goodnight
Kisses
His lips
Push their way against my squirming flesh, my tongue too tied to protest.
His hands caress,
My arms and legs. twisted behind locked doors.
These are the restless nights
Tossed and turned like mildewed clothes
Filled with empty cups and muffled moans.
These are the nights-- I’m sorry
The nights I pray for sunrise
Kisses.
Her lips
Find their way to my worried ear, stroking, Hushing.
“It’s okay baby girl mama’s here.”
Shhhhh.
These nights are long nights
When my legs are restless from running through my head,
Monsters,
Hiding underneath my bed.
These nights are filled with screams, they
Strangle my throat, and Chills prickle my spine but
These nights are saved
By her forehead
Kisses
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 12:24 PM UTC
Five-thirty AM.
Hustle 'n bustle
b e g i n s....
........footfalls
running u p
and d o w n
the stairway
......stomping
.......catching
..........fidgety
elevator........
...........voices
...r o a r i n g
s h o u t i n g
...c u r s i n g
.....f a l l i n g
......wavering
....an endless
........series of
..........sounds
..........scaring
......escalating
scaring even
more.......then
slowing down
hushing..........
fading.............
....filling hours
....til footsteps
...............start
........returning.
Night comes,
greeted, with
Tchaikovsky's
c o n c e r t o ,
bright lamps,
muted sounds
.......of spoons
forks....knives
against plates
...tingling dies
giving way to
tea cups, wine
...........glasses.
........and when
dinner's done.
:::::::::::::::::::::::
when all are in,
when all have
settled down.
::::::::::::::::::::::::
n o i s e s........
....are no more,
~~~~~~~~~~
swallowed, by
the spreading
........Dark.......
:::::::::::::::::::::::
Late nights.....
.....p e a c e.....
a soft silence
wall lamps are
mellow-lighted,
...some voices
loud.....others
vaguely heard,
some....fading
into..the..night.
:::::::::::::::::::::::
:::::::::::::::::::::::
Shortly...........
the rush shall
re commence.
Those heavy,
loud footfalls
will a g a i n
.......t e r r i f y
the old ones,
with t h e i r
......fear of.....
:t h u n d e r:
Up.......down,
down.......up,
........nonstop
shaking........
floors...........
........ceilings
down..........
..........below.
::::::::::::::::::::::
::::::::::::::::::::::
The HALLWAY
....is a straight
Path, a world,
With its own
Moments.....of
b l u e..s k i e s
.l i g h t n i n g.
..........and........
...r o a r i n g...
:t h u n d e r s:
::::::::::::::::::::::::
Sally
Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 8:17 AM UTC
I am staring at the red hand demanding stop
in a mostly silent rushing manner with any
urgent notice for the blind lost in the crushing banter.
And there is white hot anger in me
at the flamboyant capsules borne along to be seen
it is Soylent in essence proudly proclaiming to be green
I am flaring at the steady hand pandering
hot in a most heady hushing stammer.
Myths nay jerkingly, quoting for us
the signed history and sing lush slander.
And there is white hot anger in me
at the clairvoyant ape who is now born
chain-smoking and mean;
it is annoyance in adolescence rowdily
claiming to be clean.
Nov 2, 2010
Nov 2, 2010 at 9:58 PM UTC
The bank account overdrawn,
the west coast -- naked, easy --
passenger seat and head resting on cold glass,
seeing the pines turn to ash to evergreen to redwoods to sand.
I bit her ear and asked for her name,
in Before George's sanctuary,
blush, blushing -- finger to lips hushing,
drinking cognac and speaking in flaming coal
I saw the clouds behind the night sky,
I saw Jesus teach himself to fly,
and I hallelujah'd and amen'd and carried
her to the shore, Samantha, she said,
bulging mind,
anorexic action,
I bit her ear and asked her room number,
in the ocean's frontline,
hush, hushing -- backs of hands and blushing,
drinking cognac and speaking in simmering oil
I saw the night behind the clouded sky,
I saw a fly transfigure into Jesus,
and I hallelujah'd and amen'd and frayed
the remnants of grassroot and buttercup,
drunk high tide,
sober dry iced,
The bank account cleared its throat,
"Room 210 and I'd like a ***** and coke."
Feb 21, 2012
Feb 21, 2012 at 2:45 AM UTC
calling out your name in the dark
It's become an excruciating custom now
An unquenchable thirst
daylight stings and moon hovers
dispassionately
over my head
heavy with laments over a fallen crest;
Still I imagine
still I dream
that you'll tune my painful screams
into a hushing lullaby,
with a promise of forever
you'd gift my gloomy tears a twinkling gleam;
But now I'm wearing this blindfold
refusing to see the light outshining this pathetic hope ;
You are not here yet,
Maybe you never will be,
But I'm not ready to move from you yet,
And I doubt that I'll ever will be free
From these painful lumps,
burning eyes
swollen throat
and prickled heart
emptying it's blood,
so slowly that years go by
And I can now feel the quitting of daylight
while my blindfold lets out a long sigh;
as if stating to end
this idiotic nonsense
of tucking heartbreak and love
under these lyrical verse;
Aug 20, 2022
Aug 20, 2022 at 3:06 PM UTC
welcome to the courtroom where royal minds reside
and Memory records where no feelings can hide.
situation states the case at the stand
allowing Conscience the right to speak at hand.
a constant strife between Mental and Feel
for Choice to ultimately seal the deal.
Doubt gained its throne right next to Faith's;
as Faith needs Doubt to keep it in place
sadness silently hangs on the smile
weighing down brows and heavy eyelids
Sir Anger accuses all the while
but Sadness knows what Sir Anger did.
Inhibition fold arms in a hesitant state,
as fear keeps him from accepting debate.
Guilt scolds the Heart for hushing Conscience
"conscience gives righteous advice to all,
you should not allow your guard to fall!"
Pain demands to be felt by the Heart,
he's sent by Guilt to do his part.
welcome to the courtroom of the mind.
Nov 21, 2016
Nov 21, 2016 at 12:49 PM UTC
Mr. Golden sun casting long shadows
Salty breeze hitting across
Acres of sand lying beneath our feet
Ups and downs like craters on the moon
Crows cawing, horses galloping and dogs basking in the sun
A straight line of ocean doodled below the empty sky
Gigantic ships appear like miniatures farther away
Hushing sound of waves
Four feet amidst frothy tides creating footprints
Carrying back some rustic soil on the toes
A little dirt never hurt
A bag of sea shells
Small, big, coloured and white, all with a coat of sand
A bag full of sea shells
The sun sets down
The radiant moon creates a guiding path in the dark shore
Following us back home
After a long evening at the beach
With my dear son
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 5:17 AM UTC
Matilda listens to make sure they’ve gone out knowing Mr Doozie the cat is licking his milk the slurping sound fills the now silent room but she has to be sure her aunt and uncle have gone she can’t allow Moses to come in by the backdoor until they’re long gone and in the town buying and selling their wares she places her hands on her head and closes her eyes to focus her listening to close out Mr Doozie’s sounds the saucer of milk being pushed across the floor the purring but she cannot hear them now cannot hear their voices can’t hear Auntie’s whines and Uncle’s bellows can’t smell Uncle’s pipe or the aroma of his farts or Auntie’s sour body odour and sniffs the air and puts one leg up on the chair and lets the skirt fall back revealing her fine thigh and underwear something for Moses to see and get excited about not that he needs any encouragement especially after the last time he came around when her aunt and uncle had gone off for the day to market on the old bus and Moses had sneaked in the back door his eyes peering around the door and she saying They’ve gone out you can come in and he did and while Mr Doozie sat on the end of the bed watching disinterestedly Moses had kissed her all over her body and after games of foreplay he’d entered her with subtleness and moved in a slow motion so that the bed only moved and rattled slightly and did not disturbed Mr Doozie and they had only just dressed and was letting Moses out the back door when Auntie came in the front door followed by Uncle with his arms laden with shopping and moaning about the prices and the shop girls and how there is no manners anymore and she feeling Moses’ ***** easing down her thigh and stood there with her innocent stare but this time Moses would need to be quicker as they had only gone to town and wouldn’t be long and if they returned earlier and caught her and Moses undressed and ******* with Mr Doozie sitting watching she doesn’t know what they’d say or do although knowing Uncle he’d chase off Moses with his walking stick and tan her hide until she cried and cried but Moses hasn’t come and she listens out hushing Mr Doozie with a shush shush and scratches her thigh and strains her ears was that him? She sighs opening her eyes sitting up looking towards the door waiting anticipating feeling the body’s urge the body’s need wanting Moses to come through the door and hurry with her up the stairs followed no doubt by Mr Doozie and quickly ********** and into her bed and setting aside the kissing and messing get on with the ******* but the door remains closed the room is almost silent apart from Mr Doozie’s licking and purring and the soft tick tocking of the grandfather clock and her heart thumping boom boom boom boom like a small drum all around the room and inside her head and she disappointed frustrated with no *** with Moses just a small empty bed.
Oct 5, 2013
Oct 5, 2013 at 2:15 PM UTC
Pink dream, cotton candy
Like a warm-hearted cancer
Snugged in my palm tightly
hushing my nightly distress with an answer.
Gently tuck you in my pillow case
Wish for calming waves to drift me away
Time after time, night after night
Second after second
Heavy-lids say farewell to
Non-existent slumber
Rose Quartz
May 14, 2020
May 14, 2020 at 11:43 PM UTC
Lacy ferns growing
By the creek at Night
The creek is forever flowing and singing
Especially tonight
A full Moon hangs in the sky
And the Fairies are dancing in the Enchanted Forest
And as the clouds are passing by
I'm laying down by this creek getting my rest
'Til all at once I fall asleep
And my head is flooded with the most pretty dreams
That forever are with me while I sleep
By this Enchanted Creek
Where the Fairies often are
Hushing the world to sleep
Telling them to wish upon a star
Then go to bed and fall asleep without a peep
Lacy ferns growing
By the creek at Night
The creek is forever flowing and singing
Especially tonight
I'm laying here dreaming the hours away
I've stepped into a whole new world of sunshine
I've stepped into a whole new world and I'm going to stay
I've stepped into a whole new world that is mine
I'm laying by this creek getting my rest
'Til all at once I fall asleep
And my head is flooded with the most pretty dreams
That are forever with my while I sleep
~Marian~
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 11:47 PM UTC
I’m not sure
But I feel like bridging the gap between you just to stand on the edge of it and jump off
But jumping off of it is something I want and don’t want to do
But you’re so different and I’m so tired
And we’re both bored kids during lonely winter nights
They call it ‘summer love’
But except for summer holidays and warm weather, there’s not much I enjoy about it
It’s odd, but I've never been drawn to the cold weather until this year
Even though the sweetest things have happened when snowflakes quietly blanket everything
Hushing the world to stop and rest
Weighing down the boughs of evergreens ever so slightly
When houses smell of gingerbread and vanilla and the shadows of candlelight flickers on the wall
It’s always been a romantic season, even if the weather outside is frightful
But it reminds me of the boy with the camera in his hands, taking pictures of everything so it wouldn't feel like we were miles away
And that boy with the camera is still just miles away
And the photographs are just photographs, and those have stopped for about a year or more
I’m trying to be patient, trying to calm this heart of mine
Because it’s fickle, and although it enjoys the glitter of the Christmas season
It shivers in the winter and will snuggle up to anyone except to me
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 3:59 PM UTC
The way you lived
Everyday
Living in fear
Of somebody seeing you loving me
Cause that alley had eyes hidden in the bricks
That parking lot had lights hitting our lips
And you were hushing me
We were always walking on a tightrope that was too many years old
I wonder where you went too when you wouldn’t show up for the 5 minutes you were supposed to
The way you lived
Everyday
Living in fear
Of somebody seeing you loving me
Cause people were noticing me love you
That school had monstrous eyes
That window of your truck had my breath melting the ice
It had the smell of me, my missing earring
The way I lived
Everyday
Living In fear that no one would see me love you
Cause I was the most prized secret
Perfectly kept on tight sealed lips
Losing myself in you
I still remember the weight of you
I still remember the first taste of you
And I remember your stories of the boy you once were and I remember wishing I was born in the 70’s just so I had a chance to be chosen by you
The way I lived
Everyday
Living In fear that no one would see me love you
Everyday for me was like a 10 mile race
I tried with everything I had to be the woman in your frame
But I sunk down deep and lost the game
There I was chasing you like you owed me
Cause I never accepted the fact that you were bad for me
The way you lived
Everyday
Living in fear that somebody would see you loving me
Cause I thought you wanted longevity and I was overtaken by our chemistry
I had dreams about the silly things like your jeans and the way you would smirk at me
I bet you dreamt about mornings with me
But all we ever had was foggy evenings
I had a feeling you were going to make me blue
With your name on me, a blue tattoo
Instead the colors of me are a pinwheel of hues
The way I lived
Everyday
Living In fear that no one would know I love you
But I tell myself that art is meant for periods of time
You made me into a heaven and you made me into a hell
Tell me how do you get the sun to set on you
All I ever have is the moon
And I know that time will pass over and over but I am stained with you
all over my body you lay
After the 8 hour school days of staring at you I can’t unsee you
And I know I was never good at accepting
But you accepted that I was a broken young
And you chose to make me anew
Did it **** you too?
Tell me did it enlighten you?
Did the first time for me overtake you?
Every day
I was there
You were there
Every day
I was there..
The way you lived
Everyday
Living In fear
Of someone finding out you love me..
I’ll never relate too..
Nov 14, 2021
Nov 14, 2021 at 1:03 PM UTC
say something or just
keep on makin' ghost-patterned, intervening silences,
singing
or half-murmuring
verses, those ones from slow songs under low light,
the same refrain that runs between all the others,
through the passage of weeks, stained tobacco sweet by eleven-thirty iterations;
* [post-meridian or particulate matters only,
of course,
it's hard to wake before noon anymore.]*
with the way these rhythms keep us down
and out,
counting the methods-
the summations of potential miseries,
and the probabilities that all would or could turn around, before the end of the week.
or the next one.
and,
outside the door, the one after that,
over the acres of concrete and pale shade,
streetlit likenesses hushing air through melting neighbourhoods,
I make imaginary footprints,
wondering which, of the field of household starlit comforts,
is the blade of grass you cast seeds from
to inadvertently germinate and sprout a well of aspiration, the wind in a stranger's ribcage,
continually growing, hiccoughing leaf litter,
with every last breath.
Dec 11, 2012
Dec 11, 2012 at 6:24 AM UTC
In silence I shall love
Heart beats peace become the dove
Push nah a gentle shove
So below..As above
Finding ones divinity
Swimming in serenity
Claim I am an enemy
Scared to be friend to me
Communication is a handy tool
Glean experience to something new
Recognize false become the true
Many in society like to act the fool
Some words are read but never heard
Silence vibrates becomes a verb
Plant it..grow it..smoke the herb
Outlaw nature so absurd
Speak out of turn..Who are you hushing?
To right person these words may be touching
Hopes evolve to dreams..that money is crushing
Elevate those who turn nothing into something
Stories unfold in a world so cold
Children's innocence still bought and sold
Continue to fix mistakes of the old
Everybody has a story that should be told
A poet doesn't have to stand up and preach
Truth flows free you can feel my soul reach
Bring it together in one big speech
Raise Vibrations we need to teach
Attractive is intelligent
When triggered made relevant
Package now they're selling it
Brains bigger than an elephant
Flex good thoughts like a muscle
Practice everyday the spiritual hustle
Continue to write truth feathers will ruffle
My silence speaks loud no longer I can muffle...
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 8:28 PM UTC
A breath that that bled through days
Seeping between our bodies,
Hushing my skin to fire
And laced with smoke.
When did air stand so solid
Between intimacies of another?
Lightly greased with desire,
A soap bubble barrier.
Oily futures chase each other
Across violet hues.
It is only so briefly whole, untouched.
Your breath caught
And me with it.
Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 4:40 PM UTC