"impishly" poems
Match, match forward and go, you heroic sons of America
Reconnoiter into the strongholds of boko haram,
And restore our captive girls from the foul custody,
Lawlessly held hostage by the connoisseurs of terror,
Go on and recover poor souls from ribald of religion
Impishly created by Moslem from the satanic verses,
Regulating foray of terror on the poor of the poor
****** mahyeming, looting and executing massacres,
Match on and on yee angels of democracy,
Don’t stop in any haste or in any wonder,
To help in the sham flabbergastations,
About the Igbos who fought the Biafra,
And the Yorubas who federally defended,
Under the aegis of Obasanjo the Sandhurst
General, where are they all to save the girls
Of Nigeria from the Islamist terror
Excuted by boko haram the handmaid of evil.
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 10:59 AM UTC
this peculiar notion transmigrates into a startling potion,
one that creates, not slakes human thirst,
a consequential first position for those who are in possess
of a direct line to gods who hide in the pitch black,
perforce one must make discrete deferential inquiries
avec une politesse indirecte
just in case we are wrong
(honest aside:
as composition proceeds, ear buds fill me with
Music of Transmigration, notably Op. 11, of S. Barber making
contradicting souls passing through me tenable and malleable)
naturellment,
loud radio silence, was I naive to expect otherwise?
perhaps god is not the subject of this poem
but perhaps the author(!) who's
just keeping his "hand" in the poem game,
spoofing human memes,
with a spot of fun even in
New Z--l-and-other domiciles
after all who has more
nominalistic titles,
is cursed and blessed,
by almost everyone
at least once a day, and in
a thousand different names
with an impishly
cruel sense of what this human gig
it created.
is about
tonight
I am a composer,
tomorrow’s decomposer,
or just a funny named follower
ah,
the answer is in the
data
Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 4:55 PM UTC
*The coquettish full moon, on a cloudless clear sky,
apple of the eyes of lovers from far and wide,
impishly wicked you are, in that avatar enticing
your eyes seek only the one for whom your heart beats for.
At times you are an anorexic crescent wearing a misty veil,
flirting with fluffy clouds, you make each one go crazy
Curiously I behold the village belle simple, peeping out-
of the window of her cottage, waiting for the lover,
who comes at odd hours with palpitating heart
My love, you are one of a kind, displaying myriad faces
an enchanting presence, I crave, each moment, in whatever form
how could I ever prescribe the way your love to reach me
your love is my never setting moon,
whichever way you choose to express.*
Dec 26, 2013
Dec 26, 2013 at 12:54 PM UTC
Ditty This, Little Boy: Venerable Auntie
My Gf's nephew came for a visit,
Teased her that night,
Bowing ceremoniously,
In the Chinese manner,
Addressing her slyly, impishly,
Oh hell, teasingly, as,
Venerable Auntie
She smiled, but said little,
The next night,
When to Argentine Tango dance she must,
In the Chinese manner,
Wore a dress tight fitting,
Her poem, she called it,
With slits up the sides,
To facilitate her swoons and slides,
Leaving the imagination to take care of the rest
As she left, o'er shoulder she called out,
(To me)
Good night little boy,
Don't wait up for my return,
Auntie has gone to play
she won't be back till
Her bad boys have venerated her,
Sufficiently...
6:10 AM
June 11, 2013
Jun 11, 2013
Jun 11, 2013 at 3:49 PM UTC
I remember laughter rippling around the streets
amber of eyes aglow, brimming with hope
children cutting a caper impishly in Aleppo
dad squinting at my fiddling around with his computer
Today, our shoulders are hunched with fear
kids no longer splashing in puddles
knee-deep in rubble and smeared with blood
hollering out war cries, looking for relatives
Some crucified, others beheaded
no hearse waiting to deliver our people to burial places
Rachel weeping for her children
rising out like a phoenix, splintering husks of shells around
Walking through the cemetery while a couple
are muttering into their swirling Chardonnay
two words collide, two paths diverge
the road to hell is paved with good intentions
Dec 28, 2016
Dec 28, 2016 at 2:09 AM UTC
Stubborn as I am
Obstinate as I may appear to be
Determined to just be
Inflexible to restrain
Rarely looking back
Unconcerned of tomorrow
Forever in the now
Mischievous with rules
Impishly laughing to the “I”
Adventurously defying the “am”
Daringly trying out
Frightening sometimes
Intimidating from time to time
Constantly changing
Eternally living
Perpetually reinventing the “I”
Always embracing the “am”
Nov 2, 2010
Nov 2, 2010 at 12:34 PM UTC
Triumphant am I when I see you stumble
Impishly witnessing your short fall from grace
My ego is puffed up with your simple proof of humanity
Your hands flailing as your feet benignly betray you
Gathering my own importance close, I feed on your shame
I take frantic pleasure in your failure
My lungs inflated with harnessed laughter at your plight
I move closer-taking all of this in...my skin humming
My mind keenly focused on your suffering
I have no expendable sympathy for you
I register your cries-they dust my ears with echos
I won't offer you the help you so desperately need
Giddiness-crawling up; determined, hot in my throat
Tasting bitterly...suspiciously like the bile of my own flaws
Straining to recapture my ignorant bliss, my eyes root for you
Recognizing my self-reflection, I swat it away with a fervor
Swallowing, I clamp it there locked in place-I begin to choke
Questions of my own imperfections threaten to suffocate me
Who am I to relish in your demise, when I carry this stained heart
My hands tainted, anointed by the trembling of my secrets
With a wretched mind, denial forlornly guides my tongue
Flushing out the haphazard judgements I cast on you
As I stand here stricken by my will to desparage your choices
Am I not solely responsible for the poisonous kiss of my words
My shame mounts, my dignity absent in the wake of this purge
Standing exposed my arms in disconnect, legs lead and water
And then euphorically the words become less insistent, quieter
Slowly my throat releases, my gasping breaths regulate themselves
Realization settles in heavy but clear
Could it be when I am judging you, I'm truly critical of me
And if so, I am forced to wonder almost reverently...
Were you ever really here at all?
Nov 14, 2010
Nov 14, 2010 at 5:07 PM UTC
Gulls, gannets brooding
vying for plankton
Acrobatic flights, flappings
Swarm the blue
Chirping, tweeting another
To lave the silvery sea.
Impishly unclad moppets
Running and frolicking,
Some helping their
Fishermen father untwine nets
The evening venture their chaste aim.
Over the horizon
Is the Yellow Face
Lustring like a
Gigantique Bohemian Chandelier
Lapping on the repose waters.
Someday when am ripe and mellow
With means to own a crew
I will sail up that mulky horizon
And touch that glowing cosmic disc.
But mater says
"The horizon doesn't end"
"It goes in league miles"
"Even when a yore mile is sailed"
"It's unattainable, puerile and trifling" She'd opine.
Only these chiding words of hers
I never take for a dime,
I will engage in my venture
I will stand to be corrected.
This is my only demure dream
I will endeavour and suckle her
I wouldn't want an elegiac ending
In this beach I've known for eon.
Sep 15, 2017
Sep 15, 2017 at 1:30 PM UTC
In the bejeweled chronometer dial
of the lighted night sky's grandeur,
light years unfathomable, embedded
vie with one another,
every single minute
in a scramble to all 360 degrees
creating a perfect hallucination!
Time impishly breaks all concepts,
of linearity, circularity and the rest,
takes to directions, that pleases
in the process makes one wonder
what the distinctions we make
as past present and future mean!
"Let's mix past with future,
put past in present and create
an ethereal symphony of time,so that
nothing gets lost, gained either"
Oct 30, 2017
Oct 30, 2017 at 11:05 PM UTC
I cry because I lost my time
and you cry because you found yours
but not where you wanted
and now it’s almost gone
the full moon grins
impishly, and mocks
you for a fool
and his smile for me
is that of an old friend
another of many less-than-noble
men who beneath his gaze
have acted lies and whispered
them in woman’s ear
and with the soft caress of laughter
my spine tingles and my hairs
stand up, ready to run
at the first sign of trouble
because if joy and terror
share the same physical response
what does that tell you
about being happy
simply this:
the first law of the universe
is that everything is always falling apart
Sep 14, 2010
Sep 14, 2010 at 6:44 PM UTC
You come around
And make me feel,
Like I don't want to feel,
As if the only way is your way,
What am I to think? How can I heal?
Are all majestic colours impishly yours?
I walk alone on glare streets of harsh silence,
In rushing crowds of coldness, darkest and deep
Loneliness, you have made mourn of sun
My punisher, you have stolen music
Out from under my fumble hands,
Your eyes are like confusion,
My heart has nil defense,
I wait for you to let me go,
My hopeless prayer,
But I am undone
No, I never will
Be known, nor
Your only
One.
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 2:06 PM UTC
As the dust settles in
On the coffee table,
I smile.
The rising sun
Elusive and innocent
Illuminates their faces as they sleep:
My brother-
All stubborn scowls
And groans.
My father-
Weatherbeaten and wizened.
My mother-
Pining and tired.
Youthful shadows creep into our home
On tiptoe,
Grinning impishly.
Barefoot, I greet them.
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 3:05 AM UTC
She lies in bed and impishly smiles
Her naked body is my temple
I think about her every once in awhile
Love is always distorted, rarely simple
Her naked body is my temple
I explore every inch of her mind
Love is always distorted, rarely simple
I am saddened by what I find
I explore every inch of her mind
I think that I know her inside and out
I am saddened by what I find
everyone has something to lie about
When I left her it was November
I think about her every once in awhile
I cannot help but to remember
She lies in bed and impishly smiles
Jan 26, 2012
Jan 26, 2012 at 11:54 PM UTC
The sun impishly dances
across my desk
prancing between
flaws and scratches
evidence of time.
It dances
across my face.
Endlessly laughing.
It hides between lines
uncovers years
itself remaining unfading.
How can something so
unbending, adamant, true
exist among the degeneration
of everything
ever set into motion?
Its caress is taunting
ever intoxicating
unending.
Tomorrow will never come
never pulling the vial slowly closed.
To feel its warmth and company
is to feel God’s smile
a breath of hope.
Mar 11, 2012
Mar 11, 2012 at 11:29 PM UTC
Let your mind flow.
Let the thoughts swirl.
Let your words come out of nowhere.
Out of nowhere.
But somewhere something happened.
No cliché figurative flickering fluorescent set you off, no slight nudge sent you *********** no, you've been lit on fire. You don’t know it, but you’re burning. But that flame is not the one nestled neatly in your grandmother's fireplace, nor the uniform petals licking up at underside of her tea kettle. It is a forest fire, raging and impatient, intent on turning over and devouring every leaf of your inspiration until you let it out. From far away it might appear to be merrily orange, but underneath it's blazing blue and white.
Maybe you can feel it. A burn like that would leave a mark.
Those stories that crackle from your tongue are going to tear this world down and replace it with one of their own. The energy they create is irresistible. It will consume you like old newspapers in an autumn bonfire.
Yes, it will consume you, just like the search for the perfect word. Remember? That tickling on the tip of your tongue that will not go away, not in hell, until you can name it. You’ll wrack your brain for hours, sometimes days, as though it were a cluttered attic and in the most hidden corner huddles your word, grinning impishly when you stumble upon it. That quest that devours your mind again and again is only the beginning, the end, the in-between, the pinpricks of color on your canvas that make up your painting, your masterpiece. And it will be a masterpiece. Your beginnings and your ends and your in-betweens will become a wonderful whole.
But, a warning. The window to your mind is not the lens that everyone will look through. Those whose opinions distort their sight will tell you your beginnings are simply weak scaffolding, your ends have loose threads that remain unsewn, and your in-betweens are only the unoriginal fluff of a muddled mind.
Their words, however, are only kindling for your fire.
Watch them burn.
They will learn to respect the writer.
Jun 20, 2013
Jun 20, 2013 at 12:12 AM UTC
One constantly thinks of lover,
In the breath she takes,
In the exhale that proceeds,
While mingling with flowers, grass, and toad.
Impishly, as though to whisper,
His name tickles her ear,
Begin the spasms to her inner sphere.
Yes! Unsullied Comrade!
Let her feed you sweet fruits,
Nestle your head near her *******
Give her expert love with tickle of kiss!
She may be confined to impudent human,
But 'tis evidently true,
That she effortlessly does care,
And care especially for you.
Apr 15, 2013
Apr 15, 2013 at 10:43 PM UTC
Pine, Spruce, Deodar and Chinar drape the foothills of the mountains freshly blanketed in white. Their peaks proudly rise high, making a journey towards the heaven. Nowhere else in the world could the mountains be seen so close to the sky.
Grassy lawns run around a vast expanse, enveloping the entire landscape in green. Tourists and school going children alike, walk past it merrily.
Delight dances in her eyes, which is evident by the glint of sunlight on her countenance and the wide smile that adorns her beautiful face. Few strands of her dark black hair let themselves loose, swaying impishly with the cool breeze while their ends begin to turn white.
Awestruck as she is at the vista in front of her eyes, trying to capture the flitting moment, she is transfixed by the soft white pieces of frozen water that whirl around in the air before falling down to the earth. She holds out her hand to the sky and a few flakes, carried as a blessing by a balmy cool breeze from the welkin high, settle down gently onto the soft hand that until now knew not of its touch. It feels cold and smooth, almost tender like a feather, melting at her tepid contact. She is more than pleased to have discovered snow for the first time in her life.
Jul 23, 2017
Jul 23, 2017 at 7:39 AM UTC
.
You come around
And make me feel,
Like I don't want to feel,
As if the only way is your way,
What am I to think? How can I heal?
Are all majestic colours impishly yours?
I walk alone on glare streets of harsh silence,
In rushing crowds of coldness, darkest and deep
Loneliness, you have made mourn of sun
My punisher, you have stolen music
Out from under my fumble hands,
Your eyes are like confusion,
My heart has nil defense,
I wait for you to let me go,
My hopeless prayer,
But I am undone
No, I never will
Be known, nor
Your only
One.
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 1:14 PM UTC
on a rock near an island - and a long forgotten shore
she stills sits there - the mermaid
graceful charming - but fading
eyes only looking at a mobile phone
won't see her anymore
nightfall at the seaside - another long forgotten shore
she starts singing then - the siren
celestial sound - but fading
ears covered by headphones
won't hear her anymore
deepest forest - untouched nature
in a ring, so says the lore
she's dancing there - the fairy
impishly cheerful still - but fading
senses focused on "smart e-devices"
won't feel magic anymore.....
© Heike Borgard 2017
Oct 29, 2017
Oct 29, 2017 at 5:23 PM UTC
You come around
And make me feel,
Like I don't want to feel,
As if the only way is your way,
What am I to think? How can I heal?
Are all majestic colours impishly yours?
I walk alone on glare streets of harsh silence,
In rushing crowds of coldness, darkest and deep
Loneliness, you have made mourn of sun
My punisher, you have stolen music
Out from under my fumble hands,
Your eyes are like confusion,
My heart has nil defense,
I wait for you to let me go,
My hopeless prayer,
But I am undone
No, I never will
Be known, nor
Your only
One.
Oct 30, 2012
Oct 30, 2012 at 2:14 AM UTC
Adulterous besieging capstone damnation
exploitation foists groping, heaving
insidiously jerking
knowingly lunges
machinations notoriously nymphomaniacal
officiating ****** quests
rapaciously, sadistically
tenaciously, unstoppably
vasocongested wickedness
Xerses yawped zeolously.
***************************
All throughout history of man/woman kind
ascendent civilizations extensively gouged,
impailed, kindled, murderous outrages
quashing sacred urges, women yearned.
***************************
Versatile thematic refrain punctuating nubiles
maximized looting, pillaging, ******
visited upon females via decimating fountainhead
guarding brestworks of vestal virgins,
innocent youths (little boys and girls).
***************************
Twenty first century **** Sapiens male population continue to applaud, covet, extol, gloat, invoke, kickstart, ****** outrages, quest savagely thee unbridled wedded yoke appropriating coquettishly enshrined gals imposing killing mandates okaying queasy sordid ugly wretchedness yanking aborhent behavior denigrating, fulminating, harrassing, jawdropping lewdness, nabbing prized rearends, twerking, violently whiplashing, yelling zingers.
***************************
Now not a day elapses with instances women claim untoward advances, and/or forced coercion to satiate and temporarily slate the ****** thirst informing prononced picadilloes (philandering if married pompous head honcho demands appeasement of coitus, ******** indecent lowball outrageous ribald uncouth ****** animalistic, carnal, feral, gonadal, immoral, kleptomaniacally misogynistic, narcissistic, opportunistic, pathetically reprehensible, torturously undervaluing, validating virility within Yankee Doodle, haply lambasting, proudly touting, vaunted wayfair zest.
***************************
The above meandering stream of consciousness attempted to amplify, a recent spate of accusations figuratively slapped against a male *** mongers, who specifically rule roost, and blithely, demandingly, forcefully, hideously, impishly, killingly, malignantly, opprobriously, powerfully, repeatedly, terminally, vindictively, wantonly, yearningly acrimoniously belittle, demean flagrantly, harshly insinuate keeping mindful, not publicize rabid ****** unwanted villainous withering zeal!
Nov 21, 2017
Nov 21, 2017 at 7:51 PM UTC
You come around
And make me feel,
Like I don't want to feel,
As if the only way is your way,
What am I to think? How can I heal?
Are all majestic colours impishly yours?
I walk alone on glare streets of harsh silence,
In rushing crowds of coldness, darkest and deep
Loneliness, you have made mourn of sun
My punisher, you have stolen music
Out from under my fumble hands,
Your eyes are like confusion,
My heart has nil defense,
I wait for you to let me go,
My hopeless prayer,
But I am undone
No, I never will
Be known, nor
Your only
One.
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 1:18 PM UTC
By nabs
There's a girl dancing to the music of life.
Summer eyes, summer child.
Playing air guitar with imagination,
drumming her little feet to the earth.
Dancing her own little rituals.
Hops and twirls. Giggling.
Jumping and clapping,
letting the joy course through her little body.
The girl grinned impishly at me,
mischievous glint in her eyes.
She run towards me and grabs my hand,
whisking me away to dance.
Each spins and hops,
Taught me how to laugh.
How to stop and wonder and dream and dream.
How to let life be breathtaking.
I didn't realize I had forgotten the simplicity of joy.
There's a little boy with sparrow wings.
Woven from the stars and the shadow.
Hands full of carefully gathered sand,
golden golden sand.
He let them go, slipping through his finger tips,
watching them get swooped away by the wind.
"Why do you do that?"
The question slipped out of my mouth.
Like an eager bird flying for the first time.
That startled me.
I thought I had long forgotten how to let my questions out.
The boy gaze at me,
His eyes swirls like oil spills
with it striking rainbows that looks
young and old on his face.
He doesn't smile, he doesn't need to.
He take my hand and guide it towards the ground,
sinking it down the golden golden sand.
Gently closing my fingers to cup at them.
They feel soft, like silk and lips.
They tickle and I loosen my grasp.
As each grain flies away from my clutch,
Flashes of images floods my mind
like a storm of wings, each
was made from memories and carries feeling.
The birth of a daughter seen by the father,
the first time someone went to the sea,
the giddiness of two people falling in love,
the sunshine reflected on your eyes.
A hand brushed a stray tear away.
The boy doesn't smile, he doesn't need to.
I didn't realize I was crying.
He looked at me and I understand.
Like little kids saying goodbye to their friends,
Memories are meant to be let go.
To not clutch them tight as to not destroy them.
Memories are too easily tainted.
So I open my palms again and said goodbye.
I'll know they'll come back, like little kids know
their friend will be back the next day.
I have never felt this free before.
There is a baby with a tuft of black hair on top.
Bundled with innocence and wonder.
She had her eyes open, she giggled.
It's her first laugh, it sparkles like fairies.
I picked her up and hold her close to me.
I run and run and run until
there's wing on my back.
Taking a leap of faith, and jump.
Soaring toward the blue blue skies for the stars
with life pumping through my veins.
Jan 12, 2016
Jan 12, 2016 at 6:43 AM UTC
Sheltered in deep abysses, enveloped
By the soft touch of translucent salted fluids,
Voluptuous fluctuating bodies of enthralling creatures
Inhabit the unscathed aquatic spheres, impishly enjoying
The uncountable marvels of spirited marine existence.
Secret currents carry turtles migrating ten
Thousand miles or more across the oceans in search
Of jellyfish and warmer waters with remoras sliding backwards,
Clinging onto them by suction as mantas pursue
Shrimps and krill before the passage of baleens.
Dolphins splash about communicating sounds, flamingo tongue
Sea snails leaving trails, of dead coral tissue in their wake. Red
Vase sponge copiously producing slime as squids swim by,
Focusing their prominent eyes on targets while colourful *****
Walk sideways, foraging for small, spiny, globular urchins.
Sneaky sharks finely tune electromagnetic sensors marked
By pits on their snouts to detect, slight muscular movements,
Down to heartbeats of preys, fighting battles with flying hawks
Over penguins, and trumpetfish align themselves with other
Vertical objects and sea stars, regenerate lost body parts.
Moving as one, schools of sweetlips explore accompanied
By devoted cleaner wrasses grooming them to keep
Their skin and mouths free of infection-causing parasites.
All play the game, of balance and harmony in the underworld,
While mermaids travel along the few remaining vessels of
Stranded humans in quest of land.
Jul 1, 2017
Jul 1, 2017 at 5:27 AM UTC