"immure" poems
Preponderant enchantments written
With dawns bereft tears
Of a hircine mendicant
Upon a necromantic acorn
Thirsting times wild-wize monition
During a week of sundays
Atide sins wake awash
Clarities purification.
Natures immure debt drawing
Maledictions masterpiece,
Leys bane web mercifully mirroring
Obsidian sibilant eyes
Peccably prenouncing the portent
Languid whisper inquisitorially;
Heavens augumented vestments
Distinguishable amid eternities
Pensive shade as thuriferous
Hallowed tombs loom black
As ink, somewhere that was
Thought to be void far between
The dark hour anchoring the
Fractured talisman of loves memoirs.
ELEETE J MUIR.
Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 11:49 AM UTC
The road to truth has many immure & acquiescent turns
Many tough battles with fire has left marks from many burns
Gruesomely the darkest hours of life are in the nugatory lies
The state of mind conforms with with deception as it so complies
It repeats on and on in the wild confines of a diabolical sequel
Its seems life is so riddled with impractical & daunting ways
People with poisoned minds, so narcissistic & shameful as it stays
To intersect with a soul of opulent loyalty & truth is seldom & blessed
But the severity of impeccability & prevarication having a fine line,
is a realization so strongly stressed...
©Michael P. Smith
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 6:31 AM UTC
Kiss me only with sweet poetry
Dance with me only with your words
I live in a room there
Hidden between the lines
Carry the touch of your heart on wings
Given flight in lyrical symmetry
So your music can play me safely
Where my heart answers back
A taboo – never to be
Examined like lost stones -
Mettle never to be tried
By time or hardship.
The gift, a safe harbor
To immure stubborn affections
For what can never be.
Lin Cava ©
Oct 13, 2010
Oct 13, 2010 at 3:59 PM UTC
Caress me, melt in me
let me see the love in your eyes,
Brimming, ululating passion
radiating in delight.
These lips craving for the touch of mine
Like the falling star
waiting to touch the ground,
But in vain, our hopes are
Vanishing before our eyes
with the rising sun.
Once again we have to part;
Once again we have to die,
Till night comes
And breathe in us life
again.
Alas! Why this sun, why the morning?
Why this rein fall on innocent lovers?
Who want nothing but to lay in each others arm
Today, tomorrow, after morrow.
Go and love first!
then only then you’ll fathom
how sharp your rays are that slice
one soul in two, every dawn.
Still, your rays are not
Half as strong as our love
Stays fervid with every partition.
You, my love, the smile of my life,
Immure these tears inside eyes
Cheeks are mine not them to kiss.
Come in my arms, clasp me so tight,
Canoodle, smooch, implant equal kisses
a clock runs in a day; my sole sustenance.
If I do not return with the return of twilight
Then let loose tears, with them, me too.
And grant this fascist sun victory
over transient us,
But not our love,
We’ll kindle our love
by making dreams our home.
Oct 6, 2018
Oct 6, 2018 at 4:26 AM UTC
Nine, five, one, three
Is all I have of you?
What do you have of me?
if you would only slow down
and see what’s before you
Your way of life is so mysterious.
your six sense and knowledge of women
Fall flat like a stack of dominoes
So vile, so unsure, so immure:
Please help me to understand
You often said that men is
So lame to be tame
Because most guys think with the wrong head
and feast on whatever is on their plates: so you said
Sister, sister, if only could only slow down
Because we are half way there
When an old love becomes a chapter in your past
That’s a sign that you have completed the task.
His number kept floating in my head
Nine, five, one, three, is all you have of him
Help me to understand,
Why it’s so hard to love them
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 4:50 PM UTC
Bring me to the closure.
I will take it to the endure.
to the last of that tenure
I will not decay like manure.
for the reason that no procure
I will bow down to lure
for sincerity and impure.
They will not give me failure.
to mix my clothes with soilure.
Let my life grow, not to immure.
because I will be good for sure
When I meet the mature
It will feel so, with some pleasure.
Apr 9, 2023
Apr 9, 2023 at 10:47 AM UTC
You are the forest of my dreams.
You sway with the wind and tranquilize the unsettled horizons from restless cacophony.
You descend with the nightfall and melt the angst of advancing insomnolence.
You embrace the immure Sun and echo the wakefulness of a fading garden.
You whisper in the breeze and the Spring embosoms the fallen Autumn leaves.
You are the forest of my dreams.
You are the enchantment of my screams.
You travel through the perpetual reminiscences of an endless pathway.
You dance with the grasshoppers to the anthem of the reawakening civilization.
The syllables from your voice create a bird's nest in the branches of my endless thoughts.
Your unearthly tranquility creates ripples on a decade old river that flows through this ancient lover's timeless memories.
You are nature's sweetest hymn.
You are the forest of my dreams.
Nov 11, 2017
Nov 11, 2017 at 12:35 PM UTC
What would I find if I broke down your wall?
Taking it down brick by brick.
If I looked inside I would find nothing at all?
Yes you would you stupid *****
What would I find if you broke down my wall?
Moving it round trick by trick.
If you looked inside would you see it or call?
No you wouldn't you make me sick!
Why do I find that I like my closed wall?
Hiding its sound tick by tick.
If you're living inside then how can you fall?
The coffin is ready better be quick!
Apr 9, 2017
Apr 9, 2017 at 6:15 PM UTC
Bleak existence portrayed,
nonetheless this (baby
boomer) hybrid dreamer
oft times evocative
edenic reveries bekiss
mine psyche with pastoral trappings
evoking utopian bliss
on par with drawing
winning lottery ticket,
which fantasy I quickly dismiss,
where dolorous voices within me hiss
mocking pipe dream compensating
for unlived life hide miss
whiling away hours
of young adulthood...
this threescore aged man did blithely ****
away enraptured with Swiss
Family Robinson fantasy,
gladly exchanging tsoris
entailing breathtaking adventure
versus sequestered bookishness burr
rowed nose engrossed
with page turner capture
ring imagination of this erstwhile drifter
addressing, fixating, and keeping coiffure
as disheveled appearance, where daily
father and mother showed me the door
particularly on account, cuz for one more
nanosecond, they could not endure
this healthy sole son vaping expenditure
as both parents toiled away,
they tired trying to swallow failure
while primarily main feature
of this poem lackadaisically
exhausted as an Evansburg Park fixture
(calling squirrels on first name basis),
no sooner this bookworm gave vague gesture
after setting foot inside abode - 'pon dusk
asper whereabouts, off
into bedroom I did immure
and disappear into story
maybe one about main
character pledging indenture
role as heavy footsteps shook
324 Level Road domicile infrastructure
awaiting the wrath
of Khan spouting ultimatums
our father/son rapport long did inure
a "NON FAKE" wall not immune
to malicious, noxious, vicious... lecture
to offspring who long outwore his
Harris Tweed Scottish welcome mat,
yet... feared testing nonsecure
mooring which familiarity bred contempt!
Jan 26, 2019
Jan 26, 2019 at 12:50 PM UTC