"imp" poems
is like no other early morning, man reborn, in the delivery
room of sky blue, the offsetting water deeper bluish hue,
the trim-all-around of the mixed salad greens of the staff's
scrubs as they usher in unity, with no imp-unity, the risks,
while the supervisory sky, disperses cumulus clouds in
peppercorn patterns of white chains, or big wide solitary
brushstrokes on a a ****** canvas, gettin' the feel in the
palm of the heft of brush, the viscosity of the paint, the day's
palette reflecting available colors in order to create a uni~cued
original of what has been painted an uncountable times before,
and before…
tho short weighted, was the sleep of the prior night's restful,
he awakes to the early morning light, the sounds of early
island rouse him, even, arouse him, for the August chill
foretells of the early onset of memory loss of the peculiarities
of this summered simmering, human warming and baking
and natural braking of the slowing of the heart rate, to better
accommodate, nature's hints and hidden reminiscences
of the true purpose of the summer's intervention upon our
collective and unique bottling, our individualized containers,
un~lidded, uncovered, eager for the fuel of sunrays replenish-
ing the length of our lives by the elixir of the summer
it is a chill 63 Fahrenheit at this time of day as we crossover
to the nigh day, from the cooling air conditions of dark,
the occasional helicopter intrudes upon the morning's calm,
the water placid, the geese honking regarding my watchful
rewarding presence, a slew, a bevy, of female vocalists, to
ease this transitory performance unfolding, and though one
feels the existential of his solitary singularity, as he thinks,
nay believes, he is the only one in attendance at this ritualized
emergence, he takes in the cool of, the heat of, the admixture
of both, the clashing integers of each, and he, fully invigorated,
goes silent, for once more, he has uncovered new combinations of
old words to accept and describe a new day's creation, miracle of miraculous, defying the odds of this ventures's success, his own continuance on this sheltered but open all around island implanted tween two tines of land, as if all the surroundings were created just to protect this, wholly holy place…
7:00am
Silver Beach
Shelter Island
Aug 19 2025
Aug 19, 2025
Aug 19, 2025 at 8:00 AM UTC
My dear,
We have
Lost your image!
Display your vivacity!
Unable to recall your voice!
Speak loudly,
Through dancing with wind!
Forget your fragrance!
Spread it through wave!
Unable to recall your colour !
Delighted with your blossoming flower!
******
She replies.......
How can I?
Your bulldozer relics us!
How can I?
Your buildings stifle us!
How can I ?
Burning fuel of your vehicle and machine,
Intimidated us!
How I can
You called us ****
How can I ....................?
*****
My dear
Our imp dominates us!
Please salvage us!
****
My dear
Please extend your hand
To clutch and revive us.........
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 1:57 PM UTC
His bicycle let out a little yelp as he slowed to a stop,
The lady was dressed the same as the night before.
He could have cycled on but he had intentions he would not drop,
For he had heard stories of such beings from old wives' lore.
It was important for him to address this spectre.
Motivated by the advice he had received from his dad.
To never succumb to fear if a spirit he should ever encounter,
For the fear would consume and eventually drive him mad.
He was brimming with confidence as he spoke,
"Hello there again, I see that you are still in a fix".
He was determined not to be made again the joke
He had sworn to not be taken in by the imp's mischief and tricks.
A sweet fragrance lingered in the air,
Teasingly inviting him to greedily inhale it all in.
A gentle gust blew, caught and played with the strands of her hair...
Enamoured by her visage, he secretly gasped as if the air grew thin.
Her face was still partially obscured by her black flowing hair.
She turned to him before she gave her reply,
*"Would you please give me a lift, dear sir...kind and rare...
I do not wish to be stranded alone, unsheltered under the moonlit sky"*.
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 7:25 AM UTC
.
I keep an imp:
It dangles limp,
And sleeps away its time,
Only arousing
To go out carousing,
Painting the town with slime.
O.O
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 3:08 PM UTC
Two trees were planted side by side. One was coconut and second one was Mango.
Both became frnds. Grew up together. Frndship grew. But smthng went wrong. They felt harm from each other due to their behaviour. One was soft from inside but hard from outside and the other one was exactly opposite. Both felt afraid of each other. So they started to depart. But their roots had been friends even before these trees were. They had wisdom and made the trees understand that behaviour is not the main thing in frndship. Understanding and trust are imp factors. Trees were convinced.
Seeds are the souls which r reincarnated.
Roots of life are same for everyone.
The height and type of aura and attitude we build up make up our lyf. But in the end trust is the one which builds up humanity.
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 12:02 AM UTC
Log Kehte hai jo pyar karta hai...
Wo hi gussa karte hai....
To kya gussa aur beizzat Karne Me...
Wo farak nahi janta hai....
Kisi ke liy pyar Me gussa karna jayas hai....
Par...par...
Kya ush pyar ke naam par ushe jalil karna ulta kehna Abuse karna bhi pyar me jayas hai...
Janab Agar ishe pyar kahte hai to dur hi raho aise pyar se...
Jo khusiyo ke jagah udaasi de...
Khusi ke jagah gum De...
Izzat ke bajae beizzat kare...
Aur last me galti accept krne ke bajae ush glti ko aisa naam de...
Pyar me dono partner ko imp. Dena jaruri hai...
Ek jhuke to ye nahi ki app hmesa ushpe ungli uthao ushe jhukao...
Jb tk wo jhuk rahi thik hai jis din wo ye sochne lagi ki hmesa wo kyu...
To kuch bhi kar loge wo laut ke nahi aaegi....
Waqt se pehle kadar Karna sikh lo..
Aksar hame jiski kadar nahi hoti wo kadar tumhe waqt dilata hai...
Aur tb tak bahut der ** jati hai...
Dec 31, 2018
Dec 31, 2018 at 4:08 AM UTC
***She's an imp of a troublemaker fairy
they call her Heather Featherwand
she lives midst ancient ruins
'pon Saturn's ringlets
of ethereal ice & dust
you might get a peek at her
neath a summertide night's dream,
she wears lavender and tangerine
to blend in with the blazing cosmos,
her pale peachy butterfly wings
make sounds like katydids
singing in the treetops and
cicadas come to life at night
further adding to her mysterious flight,
she took off one day, they say
with the man in the moon
and they've been starstruck ever after***
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 6:05 PM UTC
I can do this too, when I'm not au naturel
And trying to beat all of your @sses with how well
I make the gentleman, how excellently I am the imp,
How swell I step, dancing, aside, how terribly I simp -
Sometimes catch me getting back and giving the barman a chance -
I heeded their call; I washed off the day, and stepped into a trance
Of raspberry, rose and sandalwood; I donned my blue and pink silk,
And my black boots, tights and blazer - She's got style; And in that ilk
I also painted my face, with blues, whites, pinks, blacks, golds
And it was late when I stepped out, and in the very holds
Of the night that a lady like I should find terrifying, but I walked
The quarter of an hour to the Silk Mill; talked
For something more like four or five,
Face sharp, hair artfully mad, alive
In every sense, aided by the fine cocktails in this student setting
I could enchant all in four languages, and I did, forgetting
For a bit that another one of my faces I believe to be repugnant:
Because it begs for attention; and my current, commanded it
Because I came expecting nothing, and asking nothing,
And I quite frankly didn't give a d@mn about much of anything,
But if I wasn't very much a part of the room, and very much she
Whom every boy needed to speak to, and would ideally keep the company
Of, if that wasn't I
Then every lie's a truth, and every truth, a lie.
Mar 20, 2022
Mar 20, 2022 at 11:15 AM UTC
Parsimony Antipathy or Prudent Hostility
Locked-up Cuspid Of the One Celled Organism
As the Augury tends to its Auspices oddities
One Weak Ordeal and your reward will be handsome
Ceteris paribus when Ockham’s blade gets dull
Get a loan from your Karma or come back as amoebae
Hearts won’t be practical until they’re unbreakable.
But if you hear hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras.
Sometime this week I’ll hang from the gallows
Every drip of the tallow brings closer the end
But I’ve got this imp secured in this bottle
And you can have him for a price less than a penny
Yeah, I’ve got a genie who’ll grant all your wishes
Just pay for this bottle and your family gets fed
But act fast, for soon I **** my last twitches
By this time tomorrow I could very well be dead
Salivating tadpoles for Hegemony crickets
All imprisoned here with this repressionist peasant
By a singular stroke into Jove’s black booklet
Lucidly errant, who hasn’t been flippant?
Clever Arachne, my love, oh thou immodest spider
All I ever wanted, she picked a fine time to leave us
My days squandered eavesdropping Apocalypse riders
But if you hear hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras.
Sometime this week I’ll hang from the gallows
Every drip of the tallow brings closer the end
But I’ve got this imp secured in this bottle
And you can have him for a price less than a penny
Yeah, I’ve got a genie who’ll grant all your wishes
Just pay for this bottle and your family gets fed
But act fast, for soon I **** my last twitches
By this time tomorrow I could very well be dead
Jan 2, 2013
Jan 2, 2013 at 11:29 AM UTC
I met the devil many times
didn't drink his beer for free (like Kris Kristofferson#)
or beat him in a fiddling duel (like Charlie Daniels##)
but he wasn't trying too hard to hide
or convince me he didn't reside
in all our hearts at one time or another
Instead, he allowed me to see his (and my) wicked ways
and make me afraid that at the end of my days
if I failed to follow a prescribed and sacred tradition
I would land in the ****** world of perdition
this loathsome chap serves a purpose indeed
and those who have the interminable need
pray fervently each and every day
hoping to keep this imp at bay
but without him and his miscreant acts
we would be stuck with unimaginable facts
like bad things happen without a reason
and nobody is guaranteed a winning season
So if you meet him on some dark and lonely path
(as I have many a time)
fear not you will incur his wrath
for without him there would be none to blame
and we alone would have to feel the shame
for all the woe that is the world
(#Kris Kristofferson wrote a song in which he states he didn't beat the devil, but he drank his beer for free--##Charlie Daniels had a tune where he has a fiddle duel with the devil--I believe Charlie wins in the song)
Aug 25, 2012
Aug 25, 2012 at 7:46 PM UTC
She looked me in the eye and gave me a grin.
She held me by my arms and said listen.
I pressed my ear to her tummy and heard a weird rhythm.
I looked up with wide eyes as if to question.
She hugged me and said "say hello you're having a sister!"
I remember squealing in joy,
here we are six years later,
she s grown up so much,
to be an imp now,
May I add?
the most entertaining one.
Apr 11, 2019
Apr 11, 2019 at 2:02 AM UTC
Ingredients:
suitcases
photo albums
quick wit
a new space that is comfortable to breathe in, raise other beings in, and nurture pets and your spirit in.
Sprinklings of humor to shake on it all when it gets to be too much. Mason jars of self-appreciation and worth to open in an emergency, if these qualities are forgotten and old patterns resurrected.
Preparation:
First, sit quietly with yourself.
Breathe deeply, as many times as you need.
Fill as many soul cups as you can with confidence,
and pour them on yourself, until they sink into the
soapstone of your pores.
If needed, tip back your head and open your mouth,
in order to have a more direct inflow.
After that, take just as many cups of calm
and pour them in, slowly and with generosity.
It is okay if you overflow; you may need extra serenity
later, when you are in the midst of action.
Let the two ingredients mix, slowly, until colors as yet unnamed
are formed in your solar plexus, spilling
throughout the entirety
of your body.
Take a break and blow bubbles, for lightness.
Yes, you may laugh like a loon.
Marinade:
After the laughter has subsided, take a big dose of self- love and rub it all over yourself, drizzled like fine coconut-scented oil. Do not miss a spot, even on the parts that you have a problem with. In fact, give those extra love.
And now, for the rub: This has been simmering for a while. It is time to push it all into the oven and bake it. The heat is rising, so be quick.
Take all precious memories and sew them into the pockets of your coat. The ugly ones, burn, quickly and thoroughly. Scatter the ashes into the wind.
Hang new pictures on the wall. Splashes of nature you have photographed. Mandalas created by a precious daughter. A platypus wishing you goodnight by your little flower imp. A cheeky photo of your boy, to remind you of inner sauciness.
All of these strengthen with love.
Finally, rest your head upon the new pillow and inhale the scent of freshly laundered springtime. For now, the ordeal of your winter has ended.
Time for a long, languid, luxurious dessert.
A new life!
Bon appetite!
Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 4:36 PM UTC
Fairfax, whose Name in Arms through Europe rings,
And fills all Mouths with Envy or with Praise,
And all her Jealous Monarchs with Amaze.
And Rumours loud which daunt remotest Kings,
Thy firm unshaken Valour ever brings
Victory home, while new Rebellions raise
Their Hydra-heads, and the false North displays
Her broken League to Imp her Serpent Wings:
O yet! a Nobler task awaits thy Hand,
For what can War, but Acts of War still breed
Till injur’d Truth from Violence be freed;
And publick Faith be rescu’d from the Brand
Of publick Fraud; in vain doth Valour bleed,
While Avarice and Rapine shares the Land.
2k
Sadie was a doubtful one
Her mind was tightly shut
When faced with the fantastical
She’d fold her arms and tut
She pranced around her garden
With an playful evil aura
And dealt a merry flattening
To all that passed before her
Their bodies lay around her
And an imp of mischief found her
She loved to trap and poison
And wished she’d been a spider
When a fizzing overtook her
When a rumble grew inside her
When a shrinking and a shrivelling
Across her form did tickle
And soon did Sadie realise
That wishes can be fickle
Her legs and arms divided
Her eyeballs multiply did
So sorry Sadie scuttled
Alternating creep and crawl
She tippy-toe’d across the grass
And past her victims all
And sadness was upon her
And with mourning in her eyes
Her grief compounded hunger
And an appetite for flies
Her lengthy limbs belied her
Sorry Sadie was a spider
She loped along a lily
And her sorrow turned to guilt
Her carapace was aching
For the blood which she had spilt
She wept a web of anguish
With her sticky little tears
She wound a downward spiral
Like the falling of the years
Her malice had been stunted
Her fangs were dull and blunted
Sadie gained existence
On a web of worldly woes
She fed her tiny tummy
Where the buzz and flutter goes
And she learned the price of living
So she killed just what she ate
And she knew why killing needlessly
Was such an ugly trait
And with a human soul inside her
She chose to be a spider
Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 12:56 PM UTC
As a rainbow sends down a colourful hue,
a wasp swirls around in a puddle of dew
and lost in the hollow...somewhere within
an imp practices magic his planning to spin
an ocean of flowers bow down in their praise
as a dung beetle carries his load through a maze
and far in the distance a nightingale sings
happy in the warmth that the sunshine brings
a giggle of fairies and Will o' the Wisp
a dragonfly makes his way through the mist
a butterfly dances on the wings of a breeze
a waterfall hides behind the shade from the trees
a ladybird whistles about as she plays
a squirrel bustles through the place where she stays.....
...yet in all this beauty and clandescent touch
it's lost on me ~ I've grown up too much!
Jun 5, 2010
Jun 5, 2010 at 3:03 PM UTC
Lord, who createdst man in wealth and store,
Though foolishly he lost the same,
Decaying more and more,
Till he became
Most poor:
With thee
O let me rise
As larks, harmoniously,
And sing this day thy victories:
Then shall the fall further the flight in me.
My tender age in sorrow did begin:
And still with sicknesses and shame
Thou didst so punish sin,
That I became
Most thin.
With thee
Let me combine
And feel this day thy victory:
For, if I imp my wing on thine,
Affliction shall advance the flight in me.
1.8k
watching for air a mad thing of static to do
unwashed i hold it all foreign my perspectives clothed as the enemy
an agreed muscle of tension with pockets fracked into my hands
i look out the window wide agape guidance invasive drills of heat the giving sunlight ; punishing,
a tree, the grieving buildings
the whinging of cicadas
and here i am watching for air
one point for the weather
one point for the view
one big point for my ****** condition
one point for the passers by and their galling dramedies
and there it is ; the wiry plan that's built
from one small tickle of wild thought
formed long ago
trickling to the current day
some whipped wit of poisoned psychology
fed to the inbreed (welcome you panting imp)
decades of saved up fatty layers
a deed of habitual sediment
retching until the tide laps become still
a cured and congealed gladness
marbled, a butcher would say
i am full and hearted and heated and padded senseless
turned under a heel with my wastrel history
i’ve accomplished this a stifled condition
of poisoned obscenity
seated deep almost fully incapacitated
in my armchair on this chummy day
my leisure clothes greasy sluck against my blemished hide
a packet of cigarettes to my side
rounded upon by sounds of the neighbours affairs
with a gasp of energy i 'skin one off' vigorously
my system trembling with years of hard liquor
borderline to a state of unconscious whelm
retained final prime for ignition
i could manage a spectacle
a blinding flare
a glorious incineration
and the release
of my true oder
i light a match for my cigarette
May 29, 2023
May 29, 2023 at 6:54 PM UTC
*From far away has come
what lies beneath Dreamworld~
Inimical insomnia rises from below.
Lyrical temperance painted on walls,
walls of wonder, walls of gold.
Perseverance seizes my dryness
written alone with kitten ink~
And steals these sentiments of shyness
Speaking with an internal imp,
Rhythmical synthesis, words suddenly cringe.
And slowly we become rivers,
we become photographs without sun~
I release my eyes on your throat,
Reflections without borders,
*********** behind God.
My decadence prayed for madness,
and knock on thine heavenly doors~
But what are we but just a lonely song?
A little music lost, a melody untold
But all and by all, we were just like tracks in the snow.*
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 4:01 AM UTC
The gnomes sang and danced while the faeries all pranced
and the elfins got drunk by the fire
The pixies hummed tunes and got ****** on mushrooms
I can't remember what happened to the choir.
Sethark the lord of the dark was roused from his sleep by the din
the djinn in the lamp though he at first appeared camp
wished up the drawbridge and pulled in the ramp.
This gathering, like babies were safe in the glades
while Sethark from Hades was sharpening the blades.
But it all fizzled out when Sethark gave a shout
to a beautifully jewelled little lady
and they tarried away somewhere deep in the hay
and the result was a devilish imp of a baby.
The party goes on though the pixies have gone
because too many mushrooms had doomed them
and now they're doomed to the glens
banished from the fens
No longer to hum or strum on guitars
nor sing sweet melodies to the brightest of stars
sad tales are told by old faeries and gnomes
of pixies evicted from family homes
but they know in their bones that it should have been them in the glen
but say nothing of this thing
or bad luck they will bring on you.
The story that's told is quite true
Believe if you wish
and if you wish it
it's true.
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 7:21 AM UTC
I no longer see
The purpose of your role
When you betrayed us,
And others altogether
As if we’re lowly like
Maggots in the eyes
Of common men.
You’re no Guardian
O’ mine, whence the
Moment you laid
Upon that Hand o’ yours
That bludgeoned this
Childlike glee, wakening
A great sense in me that
You have the face of Janus,
But you do not embody
All beginnings;
It was all but nought,
Making a fool out of me
As if I’m an imbecile
To canonize yourself
As a Patron Saint of Fairy Tales
In which a venerable testament
To those dogmatic scoundrels
That borne the blood o’ *******
Which flows in their veins…
So you, are no Paragon, but a Fool-Saint
And speak no Tongues of Fire;
But full of air and a thorny tongue
That snaps like a whip
Hence, a brute, an imp
That is an uptight ****
A Guardian to the so-and-so’s.
Sep 12, 2025
Sep 12, 2025 at 6:33 AM UTC
A whisper of water
falling on skin
mirrored with rainbows
when the sun gets let in
you may be the second
child that I named
but you're as fiery and passionate
as a forest untamed
My imp, my changeling
my brown-eyed dream
you're the eclipse of the sun
with a dewy moonbeam
Be happy my pixie
live up to your name
be as warm and as gentle
as the first summer rain
Apr 7, 2013
Apr 7, 2013 at 5:10 AM UTC
I awoke with a shudder
Was that the sound of thunder?
I listened, and heard a faint smash
Then it was followed by a loud crash
I knew, through the down stairs window it came
Was this a burgalar coming, all the same?
I got out of bed with a frown
And adorned my blue dressing gown
From under my bed, just near the mat
I reached, and found my cricket bat
I would have to go and brave this rogue instead
And then I would bash him on the head
Out of my bedroom I went, at a quiet pace
Then I tip toed slowly down my stair case
Praying I was not going to my doom
I reached for the door of my living room
Flung it open, and switched on the light
There was no way to prepare me for this sight
On my carpet there appeared to be a small little imp
He was swearing because he had a limp
The little thing had hurt himself, when he had fell
He hopped on one leg, and threatened me with Hell
Told me he was going to curse me with magic
But this injured little imp looked so tragic
He followed, hobbling, after me into the kitchen
Cursing that his leg was now itching
He shouted at me, ranting and raving
I asked if he wanted a cup of tea, so he started waving
He showed me his jaggered teeth in a funny smile
I handed him his cup of tea, he blew on it for a while
This poor little thing looked so very sad
As an evil imp, he really was bad
He had wanted to steal my teeth and then run away
Because that was one of those games that imps play
So I made him a splint, for his injured leg
I had made it out of a wooden peg
I picked him up and he started to glow
And all of a sudden, he fixed my broken window
I then made him some buttered toast
Because he said he liked eating that the most
He was not such a bad little imp in the end
He promised to visit again, I was his best friend
Jun 2, 2010
Jun 2, 2010 at 6:59 PM UTC
Why did they always associate you
With that specific word?
You always thought that word
To describe the tender feline kind
Gentle in showing affection
Brushing their fluffy cheeks on
Your shins
But they do have
Their claws as well.
School children were
Just as harsh
If not more
If it rhymed with imp
It burned in your ears
And in the mouths of
Mom and dad late at night
After you’d been sent to bed.
Your own father had
Told you to just wipe
Your nose on your sleeve
And **** it up
And it hurt worse
Than any other
Punch to the gut
And that was just
Tenth grade.
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 1:59 PM UTC
within Zieglerville, pennsylvania
genuine snow white hair
upon her noggin doth adorn,
perhaps she will divulge to me (in private)
after i croon (to said lass),
the melody of Jimmy Crack Corn
hmm...or, maybe this mission
perchance twill be doomed from the start,
and hence finding me forlorn
thenceforth, a backup contingency measure,
would warrant me to don my thinking cap,
and for extra ordinary reinforcement unfold
each Taj Mahal shaped ear flap
plus (for reinforced ironic steeliness),
aye also resort to buttress
any aural "stormy Dani yelling)
via walled in interlap,
which accouterment functions
as a double agent i.e. (or,
to be rather crude),
an audiological jockstrap
to vet or figuratively kneecap
any unwanted infiltrating leaping lap
ping "FAKE" distracting news
inducing madcap
mass media circus
driving this generic teetotaler
to pour himself a nightcap
essentially providing wig gull room
with very little margin of ear err, or overlap
against bigwigs to trumpet pap
pill low ma rendered free and clear
asper insidious (mama mia) paparazzi
charting imp pea ching fear
bringing out bare arms
most likely something internuclear
simply to discover visa vis authenticity
if cute employee
(sporting hair
white as the ****** snow),
which doth simmer and glare
blindingly, thus necessitating sunglasses
(I choose the Ray-Ban brand)
as recommended by cited
all time favorite pharmacist
who unwittingly (or simply because
my myopic eyes didst stare)
fixedly - drawn to such a darling (doll ling)
explaining any reason to go THERE
to CVS - that tis where.
Mar 28, 2018
Mar 28, 2018 at 5:58 PM UTC