"immured" poems
Time is fleeting
as the spring river runoff
that gushes out to sea
A heart trickles out
a moment,
minute by minute,
in a timeless ink drop;
unmeasurable expanse
immured in spilled ink ―
manifest in the lexicon of poetry
For only purged words
cannot quench this thirst
that is loneliness;
it's a hunger that gnaws
like an unsatisfiable ache ―
a starving emptiness
all hearts
do one day taste
Left in the sight
of doubt
and eyes that fail
to believe what they see
lain fallow in the silent
indifference
Lost in a lingering void
unburied all around,
bespoken out loud
alone in plain sight
a feigned understanding;
reticent letters shape
reluctant words
to hold forth
enunciated breathe
The only words
that still echo unstilted ―
uttered words
indelibly felt
from lips once sweet
as daybreak dew
upon musing tongue ―
tasting the only
voiceless truth
that ever broke my heart
a vanishing wave
that moved an ocean
deeply ...
Jesse Stillwater ... 06 6 2018
Jun 6, 2018
Jun 6, 2018 at 2:38 PM UTC
1601
Of God we ask one favor,
That we may be forgiven—
For what, he is presumed to know—
The Crime, from us, is hidden—
Immured the whole of Life
Within a magic Prison
We reprimand the Happiness
That too competes with Heaven.
6.4k
Mangled skirmish, of bespeckled olive-green
serpents.
Their sinuous anarchy runs cold upon her
skull.
Caravaggio, you immortalized the *****
immured her, hermetically sealed her within
that shield.
Her reflection was at once the face she
never saw...stoned, she...then beheaded.
I notice you've even painted the shield the
color of her serpentine locks.
Serpents registering her ontological shock--
retentive, entwining, dangling in an odd
curl here and there.
Blood spurting from her almost indiscernible
neck, as if to draw a passable neck of blood,
almost like rays of blood, Christ's pierced side.
Her eyes seem so determined to chisel their
way out of stone, reconnect her head to her
body.
Her face is stunning, an excruciating ferocity
bulking stiff, slightly opened mouth about to...
explode out of her eyes.
Eyes hissing downward, sideways--there in the
pitch black glint of them...a primordial drama
to be continued.
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 8:23 PM UTC
We were a beleaguered bard born,
a chief in chatoyant charms charged with
the principle petrichor of passionate paramours;
to drive the dainty dalliances
of incipient ingénues immured in
glamourous gossamer gowns;
lilting, lead lissome lads 'long labyrinthine love;
mischeiviously make mellifluous mondegreens;
sing of such serendipity: surreptitiously susurrous sessions
scintillas of Spring's sempiternal sentiments!
But fetching fugues fade fast, felicity's fated to fly. For
penumbral poets, it portends a pyrrhic pay.
We wander woebegone, waiting wistfully.
Lovers leave lyricists to languish in lonely lassitude.
The halcyon heyday has harbingered
inbroglio in the inured inventor of infatuation.
Why? With what wherewithal?
Often our offerings off us, opposite of, obviously, obtaining, or,
lucidly: lyrical lacers of Love likewise lack its livening lagniappe.
Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 11:59 AM UTC
1594
Immured in Heaven!
What a Cell!
Let every ******* be,
Thou sweetest of the Universe,
Like that which ravished thee!
2.3k
He knew the ache could not be recompensed
they knew it too the moment echoes fell silent
There was already not enough love
in a world grown dark as darkest past
It wasn't the color of his skin nor dialect
or the journey of a thousand miles
Not the place that he'd come from
back when ― left behind
nor a heart of gold,
that never became a home
The colour of unwritten silence
had eclipsed the waning light
On the run from who he'd become;
ashamed for all he was,
couldn't erase a lifetime that felt a waste ―
trying to untie a Gordian knot
He saw his body as an entombing barbwire cage
imprisoning a wellspring of love writhing deep therein
Immured at arms length from the outside world
where the soul of a teardrop abides within
its insignificance
Shielding the inherent maelstrom
from the innocent passersby
Buried thoughtfully for the greater good of all ―
for the unsatiated dream boundless love betides
Written artifacts exhumed like ***** secrets
a lifetime of stigma's stain swept under the rug;
just whispered words written from an unfinished life
few ever really looked deeply between the twisted lines
arising from the soul of just another passing stranger
The long road begets a suffocating silence
choking out, extinguished love inhumed
Ashes of what once had been life aglow of light
forevermore shrouded
like the dark side of the moon
rivers
Aug 19, 2017
Aug 19, 2017 at 8:35 PM UTC
Libation of time, that goes unpoured
For the corpse, in death immured
While we sit and wait, to feel that weight,
That final pain- and is this it?
To think the clocks we watch, not ours
The hours we lost, were only borrowed
From accounts, surfeit no more
Once we learned life is a bore
Of bills to pay, and fools to bear,
While searching things that were not there;
Have never been but imaginings late,
Of what we never could partake.
Oct 30, 2010
Oct 30, 2010 at 7:18 PM UTC
the gentleman's a patient wolf
he trails his prey so quietly
and plans their quick demise.
his initial fascinations
are figments of imagination-
like melting rainbows, quickly forgot.
an earthy seducer ...
all the tragic ladies
immured in their addictions.
his sharp eye will quickly find
yet another quivering quail
in tallest grasses.
such eager craving -
born of hungry desires
the hunter's instinct
Mar 2, 2012
Mar 2, 2012 at 4:42 PM UTC
A darling girl of three
Violet ribbon cradles golden hair
They fuss over her porcelain skin
Blushing cheeks and baby blue eyes
“Eyes you just want to steal,” say They.
She crayons pictures of castles
And heroic princes.
Her little dolls are played
Then locked in their little dollhouse
A fair girl of fifteen
Mornings she is taunted and condemned
By the mocking mirror.
She stares
And draws a smile on the vacancy.
Head, shoulders, knees and toes-
Strings attached to all.
Puppetted by the fetters of Expectation,
She smiles, and acts,
And dresses in little outfits
To please Them.
A charming girl of seventeen
Immured little fingers cradle the wiled world.
A Crayoned face fronts the masquerade.
Mangled in tangled strings,
She offers her heart and scissors to a little blonde boy
And cries, Kiss it better.
He smiles and smooths her brow
As his honeyed whispers tear her open
And he ties a heartstring.
He stitches her up with the thread of Promises
Leaving ribbon-scars delicate as lace.
Blueblack bruises blossom across
And stain her porcelain skin.
She shatters
While screaming his innocence.
Thieved eyelight
Makes for a jaded girl of eighteen.
A darling girl of three
Plays with toys
As They toy with her.
Just another broken doll to be.
Nov 2, 2011
Nov 2, 2011 at 7:52 PM UTC
Sibylline is my palimpsest,
Immured in prosody,
I am a lascivious raconteur,
Bedizened with fecundity.
Nov 8, 2011
Nov 8, 2011 at 12:33 PM UTC
Your life, like white light, still ringing in brilliant clarity,
In bitter delicious memory in our minds.
-your beautiful life,
Standing out in burning silhouettes every time we close our eyes.
I write poems about you in my dreams.
I try to work it out in miserable half-sleep,
How a girl of thirteen could one day be wrapped in the arms of her parents,
and the next,
Immured in cold earth without mercy.
You cannot be gone.
You are so **** young.
You never met a heart you didn’t mark with the splendor of your beauty,
That outrageous, unique, chromatic personality,
Resplendent by nature,
Demure in humility.
Do you hear me where you are?
Sitting in glory at the feet of God?
Your parents will see you when they come Home.
I know that we’ll see you when we all come Home.
Oct 25, 2017
Oct 25, 2017 at 12:04 PM UTC
past Rock City we carry the fire!
to the ring; where Führer fights a frail foe!
to conceal what burns at 4 5 1–dire
Big Brother won't notice our hearts aglow
"Understanding: allow their point of view
walk around in their skin; folks are just folks"
Watch the merry-go-round go 'round a few
"More Weight," says Giles, but a witch? deadly hoax
The One Ring finally reaches Mordor
Kings are justly crowned, Bingley marries Jane
The Old Man caught the fish, or so he swore
but Dad, Liesel, Allie, Winston are slain
journeys are sacrificial, lives immured
Cheers to pilgrimage we haven't endured
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 9:20 PM UTC
fear holds you captive, immured in darkness
rejection pokes at your timid soul
neglect watches with voyeuristic pleasure
and your torture continues until...
hope finds you
happiness arrives with salvation
and love embraces you with a warming light
they are here, to keep your torment at bay
Jan 17, 2023
Jan 17, 2023 at 4:45 PM UTC
As the murk
in the daedal
sky endured
and the
finespun
brume upon
the headland
peaks wound
all around
in a
helicoid
shape,
the fluttering
winds carried
aloft
a bouquet
of ions
that were
immured,
but still
danced about
in an undulating
figure of eight;
and when the
distent distant
cloud could
no longer
wait,
it's rain
fell upon
my
wilted form
so desolate.
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 4:43 PM UTC
To fire and dust, ran my Father’s veins-
His sudden tempers, fast to wain,
Considered judgments, swift but sure;
Against stray pathos, well immured.
Fire and dust, through all his days-
Meanings strict as he would say;
Toward logic, reasoning flowed his mind,
With love, the tension to unwind.
How I miss the fire and dust of him,
And miss the years, now memory’s dim;
As diamonds hide their humbler sides,
Their closed channels, to abide.
Oct 4, 2011
Oct 4, 2011 at 5:05 PM UTC
dainty and fluorescent is the mask of humility
forthwith we proclaim allegiance and sanctity
we need not ask to deeply... it is so
the answer will disarm what we all know
whether high in proximity to those under
all fall victim to charade and blunder
spoken philosophies and capricious sighs
we tuck ourselves tightly to fashion our lies
evermore ever present in common place
covered and covert we try to save face
why not give it, let all go its way
and cleanse ourselves thoroughly without delay
is it more profound a performance endured
when spectators stand around totally immured
grace falls just short of mendacities door
but wrenchingly it gropes for more and more
it is our chance and all in your power
to drench yourself in a righteous shower
whether kindness, good deeds or getting it straight
fact is... that is what most people call great
Oct 5, 2016
Oct 5, 2016 at 10:57 AM UTC
Approaching
the bridge deck.
In the back of my neck,
that feeling:
to be bursting out
of a howling whirling womb
and to come to life
for the first time.
A sudden silence
cloaks klaxons and brakes.
In the metallic height
wire-dancers
hang together
- ghosts
weaving a iron web.
I forget them.
The water below
rocks
a craddlesong
and the riverbank
again is the wild freshness
of green and blue,
frontier undisclosed.
The tunnel lies ahead
to bury my sight
and it sips me
back into the
immured swirl,
colourful masquerade
of lit agony.
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 6:54 PM UTC
(HORROR & FANTASY FICTION)
Screams of terror,
echoing through the walls.
Heavy chains clang,
and she endlessly sobs.
She shouts and weeps.
The castle remains deaf.
As night engulfs,
she mourns in great anguish.
More and more groans.
Grand voice becomes hoarse.
She stifles a cackle,
as dying hopes prevail.
Horrible fate,
merciless verdict.
Death within walls.
Her real nightmare gnaws.
Soon, mere scrapings,
no hints of cries within.
Handsome madame,
into a rotting flesh.
A living corpse,
between the lonesome walls.
In dark solace,
forever, she will dwell.
Sep 20, 2010
Sep 20, 2010 at 6:22 AM UTC
No doubt, her temple shines a jeweled trove
each carat gold would glimpse of lover's wealth,
shall I then try entreat her guarded cove;
and win a love, immured from suitor's stealth?
Her lair is wreathed by tears of bitter moat,
a soften rippling tide conceals my stride
each imprint leaves no cast or sandy float
with only faint demures to serve as guide.
For dense, uncertain fogging clouds her glow
as tho' her light's obscured, so none may find,
or love, in templed grief incensing woe
with none a paddled boat so left behind.
Her water's deep and cold, than to allow
tho' having tried, her lantern's brighter now.
Sep 16, 2018
Sep 16, 2018 at 5:34 AM UTC
On the road outside
Of the fence
The Border Collie hears
The call of the
Doggies
On the inside
Enclosed behind
The wooden fence
The Alaskan malamute
The Drever, the Poodle
Bustle the edge of the barrier
Bark, bark, bark
A cacophony
Let us out
Let us come with you
Pledging to obey,
The Collie
On hind legs
Of a towering stature
Lifts a paw
Finds the latch
The gate creaks open
Uncorking in celebration
They run in gleeful circles
Hounds to escape artists
Unbound and free from tyranny
Of a heartless master
Marking their new territory
Of tree trunks
Sidewalks and fields
Have you ever seen
Such jubilation
Mirth and gaiety
Wagging their tails
Like helicopter blades
With gail force glee
They take off
Like upside down rain
Up, up, up
Every which way
Friends forever
Boundless canines
In search of the next
immured pooch who waits
For the musketeers
Jan 21, 2025
Jan 21, 2025 at 9:55 AM UTC
Your alluring face
figurant and immured,
yet all those things
that made you proud
Oolong tea,
laddered nylon tights
coltsfoot by the river
mattered more.
Jun 14, 2012
Jun 14, 2012 at 2:15 PM UTC
I used to walk the broad daylight
Without the hunger I suffice every night
This addiction to **** for a moment to live
Has become my curse without a remorse to give
I didn't ask for this, something called as an abomination
Never thought I would become something out of a imagination
Life to me where once so simple now all's bizarre and uncanny
I circle and walk the night causing terror and horror as my reality
You may all be wondering how a man turns to a creature of the fallen
When did I became something that I am not?How did it happen?
It started 400 years ago when I fell in love with a beautiful countess
Her name's still haunts me Elizabeth Bathory the midnight huntress
Even the most radiant rose in appearance in the end shows their true color when they wither
She is dark merciless and vile when dusk falls she saps life like plants in need of water
One night as I walk along the shore of castle cachtice unaware of her being
I saw her standing there like wine in a glass being offered to quench a man's thirst and craving
I came to her like a hungry wolf, only to realize I am the sheep under a butcher's hook
I stare just to witness what fear looks like, as death bites a way in my vision blurred and blood was took
I woke up the next day only to be reminded that it wasn't just a nightmare
I soon then stop the struggle and feed my first **** and became a heir
I couldn't speak the tale of all the endless slaughter till' the day she was immured
I am being kept secret in the dark not knowing of my existence for centuries the curse I endured
An ending to a nightmare has finally came to pass with the death of the queen of the ******
But a new story of terror has began the hunting the feeding the killing where I myself couldn't stand
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 4:31 PM UTC
There is a wound that sits behind the eye
Triad tonality, a fearsome sigh
Plucks a ****** chord
Lyric’d by the word “why?”
Acid fingers grin in lust
Anticipating another ****** into the belly
Of time gone by
Hot skin taut and merely waiting
For suicides to release their hands
In the chain their concert makes
Eternities in some hellish waste lived in only seconds.
How strong the forces are!
So steep a severing blow!
Still fresh a carrion scar, festering miles still to go
To beset the pinkest eves
This blade of regret
Within a greater narrative,
Tiny little vignettes
Armed in fashion of drunken odes
Those promises sworn to keep
Accompanied by such pathos woes
Accoutered, finally, in weep.
Brandished when it’s not so fresh:
This minor paring of my flesh
Gleaming in the summer laughs
To caterwaul my gaff, or plural if you like
The humor undercuts enormity
Or screams on shafts in biting breezes
This lived-in clime
I, this prey, displeases.
Unsheathed, the memories, in jovial acts of war
Besiege, beleaguer, the since-immured
True blood and guts long-since obscured
By friendliness, camaraderie
Intentions jester-pure
Trick suppressing-shields raised, jaundiced wills will not deflect
No blade or arrow of regret.
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 12:52 AM UTC