"incertitude" poems
Goldbrown upon the sated flood
The rockvine clusters lift and sway;
Vast wings above the lambent waters brood
Of sullen day.
A waste of waters ruthlessly
Sways and uplifts its weedy mane
Where brooding day stares down upon the sea
In dull disdain.
Uplift and sway, O golden vine,
Your clustered fruits to love's full flood,
Lambent and vast and ruthless as is thine
Incertitude!
7.7k
Women bent over in a circle
A quilt is being born
Created with precision
of structure, harmony
Geometrically perfect
wedding band,log cabin.
The men are far away
fishing, hunting bisons
A dying fire, logs glowing
Icy winds wisttle under the door
back out through the chimney flue
Strong women, used to dangers
hunger, incertitude
marauding Indians
hidding out in the woods
Tighten up your circle
warm up your fingers
the quilt must be ready
For the new bride of spring
Colette Anne Naegle
copyrights 2009
Mar 1, 2012
Mar 1, 2012 at 2:36 AM UTC
recurrent moonlit distractions
captured by words
tied down into morsels;
separated and concealed,
contiguous yet sheer greetings
of each other’s skin
had left wanton burns
and gushing streams
of a brooding lover’s propensity
for unsusceptible matters of the heart.
there, he stood,
on the precipice of tomorrows;
ruminating and scrupulous,
forlorn yet never dithering
over mundane and quintessential quandaries
of the tepid gloss of incertitude
dangling off syllables
dictated by sordid agony.
there, he stood,
in the midst of everything;
from the otiose adoration
poured out of empty caskets
to the lenitive shades of his eyes.
with the ripples of moonlight,
the gestalt of doleful flower-like hearts,
there, she stood,
and waited.
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 10:15 AM UTC
Thought you found home when you finally anchored your heart to his, but you only found wilderness inside an empty forest lost long time ago.
I met a man while I am moving on from my past. He was moving on also from his own little heartbreak. Whenever I am with him, I taught myself to never love a man's soul while his heart is aching for someone else's. But he taught me the other way, obliviously.
The ricochet comes. He can't love me back when he wants to. He can't take risks the way I do. He can't choose me when the universe give us the chance.
The ricochet hits me and I am supposed to be dead. But no, I was hit but was never putted into death. I was only shattered into pieces.
My little hopes and biggest fears will chase me to dreams and I have no escape. Nightmares will come every sleep and anxiety will attack me every waking up.
I will stare blankly in a dead air that used to give life to my existence before.
I am shredding tears for no certain reason and my heart is pulled down into the bottom of the sea.
I am loss. I am not found. If hope doesn't exist, then there is no chance I will be found deep down here.
I never had a heart, but when I found this empty long lost forest, when I took the risk when he can't, when I love him despite all his insecurities and incertitude, when I choose him when the universe gave me dozens of choices, I don't have a choice but to have one. For him and only for him.
Boy, I only have one heart but it is still hitched to yours and I don't have any plans to unhitch it.
Apr 13, 2019
Apr 13, 2019 at 10:36 AM UTC
*Let us run freely hand in hand
in Elysian fields of resplendent grass,
where tranquil existence lies
beyond skies of incertitude
whence ambiguity doesn't rhyme,
and empathy's rapport plays in the hearts
of all those who cherish the melody of peace,
swimming in rivers of abundant harmony
and dance 'pon the ether of communion's serenity*
"Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and right-doing, there is a field,
I'll meet you there...." Rumi
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 4:25 PM UTC
she cried on a day that should have been celebratory
and I did not have words
she danced an ode written to cumbia
she danced it out with grace
with verbs so fine
you knew she held the present
at every sway
she did not have words
we walked to food joint next to the bar
rolled out the English language
in exchange for sustenance
“what are words?”
I picked up our food
drunkenly shook out some lingo
and the grey-haired man on the other side of the counter
took a deep breath and stayed silent
“Are words needed ?”
the Kamikaze shots and the tequila made our tongues soft
and our upper palates dry
pouring only thirst, into our youth
and there,
eyes soaked in meaning
in a circus of incertitude,
the cold wind turned divine flurried our hair
“we do not have words.”
Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 4:57 AM UTC
He took a snapshot of me in the rain
in front of the vacant house where
ghost lifted the dust and
suspended the rocks like a puppeteer.
He called the shot
A Thousand Different Versions of Your Soul
and he swore, if it takes a community to raise a child,
then a thousand different people ******* me up.
I walked back to my house under an umbrella
with the polaroid of my incertitude tucked close to my heart
I pulled down every Vonnegut book from the shelf,
took the Holy Bible from its case,
called Plath up from her grave,
and asked them what the hell my life meant, anyway.
Vonnegut told me to travel to Titan.
There I will fall in love with the beautiful Sirens
and die with the aliens of Tralfamadore.
The Holy Bible told me to carry His cross
to Golgotha,
so He could die for
the salvation from my sins.
Plath told me to keep on writing.
Then I will live until I'm thirty,
and die in with my head in
my kitchen oven.
All provided valid arguments
on why my heart keeps beating
and why the thousand different versions of my soul
haven't crawled out of my throat yet.
Mar 5, 2012
Mar 5, 2012 at 9:26 PM UTC
With us uncertainty is our only certainty
Doubt the bedrock of our surety
We see each other and we smile
But it lasts only but for a while
This insanity our emotion brings that costs us our sanity
It’s like alcohol, our sobriety
We both are big enough we are our own community
As right as this feels, it’s a wrong in our society
We are trouble to them, the sign of a calamity.
So we see in secret so they we would not berate
We love even more sweetly and oh! It feels so great
I respect my love and L’amour this feeling deeply reciprocates
Where this love boat us will take
We have no clue and leave it all to fate
And while we wait,
We'd love, smile, kiss and date
-r3d-
Sep 19, 2012
Sep 19, 2012 at 10:11 AM UTC
goaded by a stereophonic monotone:
a flumine voice waxes with lovelorn dregs.
i heard the plump word of rescue
dangle from the heady decibel of song,
winterward, blue-veined and stillicide.
no more, shall the wind traverse the impasse of the verdigris. the incertitude
of beginnings sigh ultimately.
o people, your darling children soldered
to your denims. o rosefrail and sightless
bannerets — we mourn such coming.
it sleuths with a tangle of fingers
underneath fringes of flesh-warmed
draperies with a different temperament
as moderate as climates in squandered tropics, flows with a truth wishing it
more of the untruth:
never shall return, in faraway lands,
never shall look back and lay in prairies
attenuated, continue to sing oblivion.
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 6:29 AM UTC
Three long years
Longing for each other
Waiting in incertitude
Maybe one day...
Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 6:22 AM UTC
Le ciel me parle des mots doux
qui brillent comme des feux rouges
et brûlent dans la poitrine,
piquent sur les champs créés des espères
et des possibilités oubliés.
Peut-être que je suis perdu,
sorti de la maison des conséquences,
rendu malheureux par des phrases simples
et lavé par les eaux de ton étreinte ;
peut-être que je suis oublié,
pas connu par les gens qui se crient
pour l’amour ou la douleur
ou contaminé par le sang bleu
du jour qui reste dans l’air timide.
Peut-être que j’ai peur,
peur de ta regarde, peur d’être
frappé par tes yeux sympathiques
et éclatants, peur d’être jugé par
le bon dieu de la tristesse,
embrassé par le cœur qui me fait pleurer.
Peut-être que je vis avec
l’incertitude de tes pensés éphémères,
avec l’obligation de ne rien se faire,
avec l’impression de doute sur ta bouche,
avec la sourire malhonnête
qui ne me respecte en plus.
Peut-être que je dois vivre sans toi,
car tu me rends fâché avec ton voix couché,
car tu me montres ton cœur mais
ne me laisse pas de le tenir,
car tu me dis que tu es sincère
sans avoir assez de témoins,
car tu me fais faim
mais ne me laisse pas manger.
Peut-être que tu n'es pas pour moi ;
Peut-être que tu es vraiment pour toi.
/
The sky speaks to me sweet words
that shine like red fires
and burn in the chest,
sting on the fields created by hopes
and forgotten possibilities.
Maybe I’m lost,
parted with the house of consequences,
made unhappy by simple phrases
and bathed by the waters of your embrace;
maybe I’m forgotten,
unknown by people who cry
for love or pain
or contaminated by the blue blood
of the day that sits in the timid air.
Maybe I’m afraid,
afraid of your gaze, afraid
of being struck by your lovely
and gleaming eyes, afraid to be judged
by the good God of sadness,
afraid to be kissed by the
heart that makes me weep.
Maybe I’m living with
the uncertainty of your fleeting thoughts,
with the obligation to do nothing,
with the impression of doubt on your mouth,
with the dishonest smile
that doesn’t respect me anymore.
Maybe I have to live without you,
because you enrage me with your cloaked voice,
because you show me your heart but
don’t let me hold it,
because you tell me that you’re sincere
without brandishing enough witnesses,
because you make me hungry
but don’t let me eat.
Maybe you're not for me;
Maybe you’re truly for you.
Oct 16, 2015
Oct 16, 2015 at 12:34 AM UTC
Lent,
Conseillez-vous
Munissez-vous de clairvoyance
Seul, pendant un instant
Laisse faire
Concrète
De maniere a obtenir un creux
Tonalité
Très perdu
Portez cela plus ****
Animer vos doigts fissurés
Ouvrez a tête
Enfouissez le son
Apaisé
Flottante
Sur le bord de
L'incertitude
Tomber en amour
Avec les vagues
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 7:58 PM UTC
Sneaks up like a VC assassin
quick, invisible, deadly
the knife slides into your ribs
while you are thinking far away.
A sharp, sudden pain
and then sudden falling away
into a world of hurt.
Emptiness floods your body,
frozen and stuttering
in incertitude.
Ice enters your stunned heart.
It lasts a second, a minute,
an hour, a day a week, a year.
For that interval you gasp
with the hopelessness of life.
You do not want to die,
you only want to feel nothing,
to escape into nothingness.
And then it departs suddenly
and the earth returns to view.
Birds sing and women are beautiful,
the sun winks and you are saved.
Until the next time when
the unseen blade again finds
your soul and chaos blinds
you to life.
May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 3:54 AM UTC
in the smell of cigarettes and coffee,
you find comfort,
and the space to avoid all things that may bound you or your toughwithaleatherjacket ****** front
toxic fumes on your lips,
rise above layers of black eyeliner fake lashes
above your false vitality,
lantern eyes fading, no longer able to find anything but inevitable fatality
dark, amidst despondence and incertitude,
masking our insecurity with smoke and cheep attitudes
take that tab of acid
get ready for the trip
down
down
down
tonight
ill find a new lover to
**** me till im gone
pride too lost to recover
roll me up and smoke me
at least before dawn
waking up to a body i dont knoe
you'd think i'd know better
than to love a starving artist
a shape shifter
a person so sick in the head
no hope
im not talking about the beggar in my bed
Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 11:53 PM UTC
Pining chokes me with her own two hands
as I fall to the wayside on her command.
I’ll lay apart on the edge, instead
of perusing quotations prowling through my head.
While fickle sentiments are prone to vex
I’ll shift the blame from left to right
to left again, while vermilion skies
change its hues at the speed of life.
Blows of ambivalence: it all seems hazy.
Ennui settles between the days and
contemplation, wishful thinking
dashed to pieces in different places.
It is necessary to read between these lines
where rhetoric reigns over a void of lies.
In absence of lucidity, please choose by heart
instead of distance, years and petty scars.
In mask and panic, we’re prone to error
as we become more guarded against the night.
Though incertitude may drive us mad,
love still triumphs over apprehension…in actual fact.
Aug 18, 2012
Aug 18, 2012 at 6:09 PM UTC
Dear Mr. Sunshine,
I always paint you pictures–
Large, sweeping canvases
of my ramblings. Often,
my paintbrush is hazy.
Fogged up with the tropical,
heavy-weight air of future-obsession.
Incertitude-crazy.
Mr. Sunshine,
You are quiet humility.
You are imperfect and simultaneously
You are flawless.
Your kindness is the vastness
of the West. Exceeding.
And lawless.
My Sunshine,
You paint my murky canvas
Adoringly
so yellow.
Mar 21, 2019
Mar 21, 2019 at 2:22 PM UTC
Sometimes, it’s very difficult to trust you.
The butterflies in my stomach are alive again
But not because of love
This time
It’s because of incertitude
You changed
The sparkle in your eyes is gone
Your smile is so fake
Your chest is so cold
So I know
It’s not my brain
It’s your attitude
Dec 16, 2018
Dec 16, 2018 at 12:59 AM UTC
maybe we’re just two souls
longing to be found
maybe we’re just two persons
wanting another chance
**i lay my soggy crest
on my favorite part on his chest
i listen to the rhythmic sound
of our synchronized breathing whirling me around
oh, how i wish i could just lay here
and keep this moment i endear
i lean closer intimately
and feel his heart throbbing invincibly
i count the beats it creates
as for sleep, he awaits
oh, this serenity is priceless
dear, how i wish we were timeless
i close my eyes and delight in
the musing that we’re about to begin
the rest of our lives together
oh, i wish we can always weather
all the storm we’re about to encounter
and then i thought
maybe i’m now found
maybe he’s my another chance**
*she lays her head on my chest
and charms me with the smell of lavender
emanating from the strands of her hair
oh, i wish the smell would stay
if she ever decides to run away
she leans closer
and i nearly constrict her
but she doesn’t seem to mind
oh, i’ll always have this moment on rewind
if she ever wills to leave me behind
she closes her eyes
and i wonder where her mind flies
oh, my little angel in disguise
my unparalleled prize
she takes me on my highs
oh, i hope i can bypass my demise
if she finally states her goodbyes
and then i thought
maybe someone else will find her
maybe she’s someone else’s another chance*
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 11:36 PM UTC
In a parallel universe I hold your hand
All night and that's all right
Our linked bodies clear the nightmares away
All night and that's all right
An armor formed of two bodies strong together
All night and that's all right
In an instant I surrender to the warmth and the calm
All night and that's all right
Your grip is tight, mine is tighter
All night long we dream along
I live in a world of incertitude
Where your hand might disappear
When my eyes open up and I blink the dream away
The shape of your body cuddled along mine
Blinks in and out of focus
The fear spears me and I dissolve in a puddle of terror
Liquid tear and phantom limbs
The ghost of who I was
Still broken by a boy
Magician stealer of hearts
Stealer of dignity
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 12:07 PM UTC
A part of my skin burns,
the other patch numb with cold.
Torn between the extremes,
I crave water.
Hundreds of gallons of it.
Anticipating it to soothe,
to bless the charred insides.
There’s a puddle under the table
or under my hallucination.
I can’t tell.
I touch it with my face, dreamily.
Each gulp as confusing as the last.
I am not sure how to tell
if it can be a saviour or not.
Nov 9, 2020
Nov 9, 2020 at 12:36 AM UTC
Like a lion getting ready to devour its last meal your eyes graze my skin like sand paper. Like we were some sick science experiment. Palms twitching, hungry eyes, sadist smile. A priviledge you said. Love did always make me stupid and alas, she still was under the delusion she loved you more. So with your yellow eyes and teeth just as so you raught your way into yielding flesh because no wasn't in your vocabulary. So how dare you think that you can fall asleep with that smirk as you extrude me from her so you can take and take what's wasn't yours. And now it's not fair, I shouldn't have to beg for a love that wouldn't come for your sick benefit I shouldn't have begged at all but we all knew it was just lust. And **** you both for how I feel now, inferno under my skin when real love wants me, for this intense incertitude chaos that fills my brain when real love says no. But little does she know how much damage both of you caused. But it was my own fault right? I did to myself. At least that's what you had me believe.
May 7, 2018
May 7, 2018 at 8:51 AM UTC
I just know that I know nothing
Is what I tell myself ever morning
And throught a lifetime of incertitude
It shall help you find amplitude.
I just know that I know nothing
The ignorance is crushing
But recognizing it does no harm
As it makes your life calm.
Not knowing does not make you benighted.
Discerning it makes your soul ignited
Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 1:18 PM UTC
this machine; a father on the front porch
of the universe reading existence's papers lunging at the printed word,
meticulously punctuated ebb and flow
of silence across the giddy trees crossed
by sunlight — the universe knew very
little of the incertitude of tongues
until the pain of all exactness worded
the void into a singular nomenclature:
a stifling and precise, simple, quiver-maimed often fighting through panicked streets and gory waysides. a hoard of no less than silence like a stone dropped
into all that is the world: living.
Oct 25, 2015
Oct 25, 2015 at 9:48 PM UTC
she descends the stairs
and he remains on the landing
both linger, telepathetic moments
written on that invisible wall
with intimate totals of wonder
militant, the outside try to terrify,
to augment the doubt
lengthen the halves- but
all superstition dies in that second
-c.j.
Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 12:12 AM UTC
Arisen the figure took her breath
but no longer the figure she could behold
Evil brainwork is at hand
her eyes on a stand
She knows why
but dares not penetrate
It is not hard to understand
as it is to uphold
Perplexion of her thought comes
from her incertitude
away from
Sunrise and morning dew
make it crisp to rubber boot
La estancia no esta lejos
and the figure isn't either
She tries to anchor
but it's too late
the ship has sailed and her horse knows
Something sinister in the horizon tempted
for a walk. Looking downhill she thought.
Walking upright she went.
A gazed voice asked
for her direction that to which she replied
a dirt path
Somehow she was taken in foreign dirt.
Word she was lorn.
Word she was torn.
Word she had left God.
Jun 18, 2018
Jun 18, 2018 at 6:57 PM UTC