"inclement" poems
You are a sailor
Drift way from the harbor
Pull up the anchor
That binds you down
Set sail towards the horizon
Take off the blindfold
And hoist the sail
Let the wind be your guide
Sun and the Moon your compass
Steering through uncharted waters
Sometimes calm weather
Or, inclement weather, rocking your ship
Tackling the deep waters with alacrity
Unfathomable depths, yet the ship sails
Cutting through the waters
The saline water, which is a part of you
Seagulls guide you towards the shore
Anchoring at the preferred destination
Every grain of sand cushions your feet
Welcoming you to the island of bliss
Cut off from the mainland
Yet, helping you connect with yourself
Now it’s time to unwind
And join the party after a successful voyage
Ready to set sail for another expedition
As a sailor, cruise till the end
© Amitav (Radiance)
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 3:30 PM UTC
Ships won’t be anchored forever
Rusted anchor will break free
Its weight will help sink deeper
With a loud clunk, noise will dissipate
The ship will set sail once again
No weight is heavy enough to overcome
Steered away to distant land
Searching for newer shores and destinations
Away from the land of constraint
Ship will sail safely through deeper waters
Navigating through inclement weather
Forces of nature will test its strength
For the ship shall find the happy shores again
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 9:46 AM UTC
Clad in vinyl
Bound and gagged
My whip cracks
Cleave clefts of flesh
And the blood trickles
Lightly
Pain is pulsing
Penetrating prior unknowns
Chains and leather
Inclement weather
The pain and pleasure
A pinnacle of understanding
Transcending
Our reality
Like lsd
A mind ****
Of the brutal but beautiful
An ode to those beyond
Rather above the pale
I tie your hands
Bind your feet
Kiss your face
And release
The Master.
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 4:21 PM UTC
Average-joe protagonist wipes beer glasses
at the helm of his sports bar, blissfully ignorant
of the imminent laughable tragedy. Clouds circle,
and there's that obligatory radio broadcast,
the one that warns of inclement weather-
rainy, with a chance of Selachimorpha.
You hum the Jaws theme, tracing pickup lines
on the skin of my back, while sharks pour from the sky,
the improbable tornado dropping great whites
on the California shoreline. One arm curled
around my waist, you tickle erratically
until I squirm away, only to creep back again,
and put my head in the mouth of the sand tiger,
wandering too close to the edge of the water, foolish,
but this is a b-movie, we swam out too far
knowing how it would end. The extras
scream and scatter, arms flailing,
going through the motions of surprise,
stumbling in their scripted attempts
to flee the inevitable. Predictably,
they fall. We all fall, and the girl trapped
in the hammerhead's belly
has this peaceful expression,
as if she can't quite remember why
she ran away in the first place.
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 1:05 PM UTC
On this inclement day,
Night sheathes light.
Seamless transitions,
Wake my dreams.
It's neither nor now.
Just one moment before.
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 6:15 PM UTC
Surely you,
Jester.
Unduly-expressed.
Lambasted,
insulted.
Abrasive ...
au naturel?
I think...
Surely not.
Unless,
Had the aforementioned not just the will to rip through my throat,
but too the audacity to penetrate the inclement root you call heart.
Well, I had made my decision.
and lo!
I would have stood by it too;
had my own form of insecurity been given the chance to wilt.
Not further admonished on
how to think. how to act
How 'one' should primarily be.
Instead I lie bludgeoned,
berated;
and by the very thing that
antecedently spurred
a cascade of unsophisticated giddiness.
That too was far from the cry of a
Devil-may-care persona.
I would almost weep the lost opportunity,
Whereas I should simply, and most ardently
Just be.
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 1:56 AM UTC
Arduous late Winter
woes amplify in February
false hope
We’re all sick
of constrictive clothes
and cold climes conducive to staying in
Cabin fever running rampant
45° t-shirts & sunglasses
everyone driving with their windows down
Hoping Vernal rituals
performed early will
hasten Spring’s arrival
I’m done
fed up
ready to move on
Going crazy in the cold
writhing to get moving unimpeded
by frigidness and snow
I’m ready for Spring
for Summer
for Fall
I’m ready for the scent
of thawing soil in the air
biking in the Sun, verdance, and flowers in bloom
I’m ready for grass between my toes
Fireflies, crickets, peepers
and warm night stars
I’m sick of frost reddened runny raw noses
sick of numb fingers and toes
and having precious few daylight hours
I’m sick of combatting glacial winds with layers,
of treacherous icy apathy,
and dreary bleak boredom
I’m sick of not being able to sit on the ground
sick of long pants, long socks, long sleeves,
and silent stagnant long nights
So, despite the fact
that I’ll pine for January
every day over 90°
Despite the fact
that when mosquitoes swarm
I’ll wish a frost would **** the little ********
and despite the fact
I’ll get just as fed up
with temperate seasons
I still want Spring
and then Summer
and then Fall
But February brings false hope
and despite the lengthening cheery sun
months still stand
between us and t-shirt weather
mild nights, grassy hills,
and emancipation from an inclement icebox atmosphere
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 8:50 AM UTC
The fearless ones
are fanning out
into the woods.
Others are huddled
in smartly constructed
camouflaged blinds.
These self styled
eco-warriors
brave the cold
and the discomforts
of inclement weather.
They keep a
watchful eye
over the stale
remains of
Dunkin Donuts,
bagels and
bacon grease
they cleverly
scattered
outside their
deadly bivouac.
These bold ones
eagerly finger the
barrels of their high
powered rifles,
palming the smooth
wooden stocks with
warm naked hands.
They itch to squeeze
the trigger but discipline
and fortitude inform
the vigilance of these
sentinels of sustainability.
They philosophically muse
about restorative balance
and the paradox of killing
in order to survive.
Another day has broken
over the New Jersey Highlands.
The hunt for bear is on.
Let the mammalian cleansing begin.
jbm
Oakland
12/6/10
Music Suggestion: Radiohead, Hunting Bears
Dec 6, 2011
Dec 6, 2011 at 9:02 AM UTC
Go quickly, turn the radio up, for the classics.
I want to hear the Aria, and the sweep of the violin and the thud of the cello.
Desire it, for me, so such that my heart beats and sways with the music.
Pull black lace around my shoulders,
and tie my hair up in knots and curl, should that be my desire.
Read sections of Elliot, Ghibran, and Cohello to me by candlelight, barely are our knees yet to be touched,
and I can hear the sound your lungs make in the pauses between the lines,
trying to understand, the very moment of clarity, the writer, concedes to the reader.
Allow my voice to be heard amongst the depth of the inclement music,
despite how quiet it may seem in, that, moment.
Do not call me by my name, I should not desire it, even if for a moment;
it tastes like absinthe, without the sugar, and is bitter and intoxicating and raw on the tongue
and that it would no longer be my desire, but yours.
If I should desire it, I want you to be sure of yourself;
I want your heart to pulse so loudly, it is the only sound you hear,
and your mind becomes unconscious to my form, only my forceful presence.
Tie me up, in ******* bind my feet, my arms, and my *******
use wax, and chains, and leather.
Be afraid, be very afraid, to love me like this.
Place your palm on my back and hold me, like, this.
Be a wall I can cling to, feel my desire for my nails claw at your fascia, at your concrete chest,
let me make my mark in you, and you will feel, good, very oh, so, good about that.
Be slightly nervous, by my desires, but oh so tense and excited.
I want you wanton and willing, but I desire you hesitant and forbidden.
I am the labyrinth, I am a woman, I was not built to be understood;
but bring me *** bring me braces, bring me your rough delicate touch,
and you will see i was built for Desire.
If I must, I must desire to be enjoyed and entertained, I want you to make me smile, yes, you.
To do this, is akin to going to battle and i want to see you are ready to go to war for this very simple desirable quest.
Feel the stockings on my legs and deem them available to be held between your fingers.
But not yet.
Desire, if it must be met, must be met by me through me, by you.
If I must desire, You must desire it, too
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 5:19 PM UTC
The cows graze in their pasture
Subservient to their master
Who doesn’t move faster
To help avoid disaster
So the cows are on their own
To deal with snow
Those all alone
Completely froze
Yet those who know
To use the warm glow
Of company that showed
Survive temperature lows
The cows used to solitary grazing
Now begin embracing
To fight cold air they’re facing
That is life erasing
While frost is lacing
The grass once worth tasting
The winter refuses to yield
As snow builds in the fields
The cows’ cohesion is revealed
As they protect their veal
And forget to steal
To connect and heal
During this ordeal
In times of inclement weather
The cows huddle together
Like someone pulled a lever
That won’t stay locked forever
So eventually ties are severed
As summer comes
The dumber numb
Thinking they won
Soaking up sun
Knowing winter is done
They divide into ones
A flow line
Of the bovine
Slow grind
Shows flies
Grow wise
With no size
They devise
To go for eyes
Cows go blind
In their mind
And cannot find
Their herd in time
Pretty soon the irritating fleas
Give them mad cow disease
As they don’t look to please
But put the good on their knees
While they’re hiding in trees
And biting with absolute ease
Seeing the absence of immunities
From their lack of community
The lost independent
Weather defendants
Become repentant
When they hear encroaching
Thunder clouds approaching
The cows become hectic
From a storm electric
Their formation eclectic
So they feel unprotected
But a fence was erected
So they can’t join the dejected
And this lonely life they elected
Is sadly reflected
The lasso angler
Hassling wranglers
Unmasked as stranglers
Bring the herd together
As they pull a lever
That’ll stay locked forever
As the cows’ heads are severed
And the horns in their head
Stick around once they’re dead
As we eat what they were fed
While they made their own bed
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 6:18 PM UTC
Breathe in the freshness
of the arduously picked commodity,
That you hold between your lacquered fingers.
Don’t let synthetic ingredients
dissolve your thoughts
and obscure your vision.
The liquid remedy we sip is drenched,
With pain and protracted nurturing
Carefully fostered
through inclement weather
drink in the story that comes with it
That fuels caffeinated conversations.
Refined and defined leaving us blind
to the painted secrets of lives that were once lead
different lives intersect,
different thoughts and opinions interject.
Leaving lipstick kisses on the porcelain skin
Sipping away worries and pain.
Inhaling the smell of impelling advice,
fragments of sugar coated anecdotes melt,
integrating within, interfering
with the raw, strong, sharp taste
that can pierce through.
the rare intense, earthy aftertaste
is tainted with artificial garnishing,
suffocating the fresh natural essence
neatly contained in the teacup
ready to serve and ready to present
taking shape of the porcelain guise
Don’t sprinkle it with processed collaborations
of sugared doubt,
Contaminating your imagination
Manipulated by dainty voices
Resonating in your head
Like the delicate teacup
You anchor with your soft hands
Weighed down by the overly sweetened tea.
No longer holding significance
of the vast fresh fields it sprouted from
Forgotten and drowned
in the voices of someone else’s drum beat.
cloudy vision reflected in the saturated tonic
you sip elegantly, pasting a smile
suppressing your own desires,
under someone else's acceptance.
Jul 16, 2012
Jul 16, 2012 at 12:20 PM UTC
when everything everywhere
whispered in irresistible languages
*hey you there
stop resisting*
i began to surrender
was flowing free
stretching
wings flapping
toward the unknowable
inside
experimented with ditching
body as identification
name as identification
personal history as identification
faded off
mad word searching
explaining justifying
reiterating too much information
i loosened my squeeze grip
on intellectualism
tell-me-how-to-be spiritual books
whatever the famous someone
said once then got bronzed over
i surrendered to universal unity
where i lavishly decorated
my living changing dream
with my own snap choices
i was flowing with fresh
synergetic synthesis
returned outside to pedestrian streets
where angelics mixed in
wore transparent disguises
i began to flow
forgiveness out and in
skipped a light fandango
splashing puddles was
answer to inclement weather
i set wooden faces
to smiling after
i switched my own
i rolled on through
perceived stop signs
of the everlasting no
incinerated all my karma with
nownownow
wonwonwon
made myself
stock still
experienced
yes yes
relaxed awareness
breathed
emptiness
opened all my hands
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 2:16 PM UTC
.
*My love and I went out a'walking,
that is when we both ceased talking.
Loving, being free and alone together
despite the rain and inclement weather.
Yes the rain fair soaked us through
but it felt just like a shower for two.
All of this along with chirping birds
the moment we stopped using words.*
© Pagan Paul (17/07/19)
Jul 17, 2019
Jul 17, 2019 at 10:36 AM UTC
You are my heart and upon it
I have etched my secret hopes for you:
My hope that you burn brightly, and long—
That your most heartfelt desires lash themselves
Upon the winds of passion
And that your heart’s love flows
Out of eyes and mouth to the tuneful ears
Of those who surround you.
That hope survives and blooms in the inclement weather
Of disappointment—
That you find and etch your secret desires
For your own child—
And that when I am gone,
That in a flowering corner of your soul
That you feel my love for you—
Copyright/All Rights Reserved Audrey Howitt 2011
Oct 6, 2011
Oct 6, 2011 at 9:50 PM UTC
While others chant of gay Elysian scenes,
Of balmy zephyrs, and of flow’ry plains,
My song more happy speaks a greater name,
Feels higher motives and a nobler flame.
For thee, O R—, the muse attunes her strings,
And mounts sublime above inferior things.
I sing not now of green embow’ring woods,
I sing not now the daughters of the floods,
I sing not of the storms o’er ocean driv’n,
And how they howl’d along the waste of heav’n.
But I to R——- would paint the British shore,
And vast Atlantic, not untry’d before:
Thy life impair’d commands thee to arise,
Leave these bleak regions and inclement skies,
Where chilling winds return the winter past,
And nature shudders at the furious blast.
O thou stupendous, earth-enclosing main
Exert thy wonders to the world again!
If ere thy pow’r prolong’d the fleeting breath,
Turn’d back the shafts, and mock’d the gates of death,
If ere thine air dispens’d an healing pow’r,
Or snatch’d the victim from the fatal hour,
This equal case demands thine equal care,
And equal wonders may this patient share.
But unavailing, frantic is the dream
To hope thine aid without the aid of him
Who gave thee birth and taught thee where to flow,
And in thy waves his various blessings show.
May R—return to view his native shore
Replete with vigour not his own before,
Then shall we see with pleasure and surprise,
And own thy work, great Ruler of the skies!
1.9k
How can you ask a man
Who loves you,
About the man you love?
If I was lesser than
I may play pretend and spin a thread
That pulls you closer to the center of my web.
But,
My love is a field of a thousand faceless corpses.
Each one a time when I swallowed pride, and
Gave you my mouth
So you could smile wide.
Little Lady,
Can you not see this calm bravado
Relies solely
On my never-blinking eyes.
For even a wink would have this city sink
Beneath
This grief I trap in ink.
You woke up and only met the sun today
Because,
In the dead of night
I cupped your pain, and
Drank your inclement weather like bottled rain.
Oct 3, 2021
Oct 3, 2021 at 8:29 PM UTC
1384
Praise it—’tis dead—
It cannot glow—
Warm this inclement Ear
With the encomium it earned
Since it was gathered here—
Invest this alabaster Zest
In the Delights of Dust—
Remitted—since it flitted it
In recusance august.
1.6k
i want a voice like the heartbeat of the metra tracks
as it shakes its way into your brain
while you're half awake
and daydreaming
'bout something sweet
something that means nothing to me
but it's cute
see
the way you can't help but smile
i want to be that cringe of excitement in your skull
that you can't stop daydreamin' about
and...
if you could find yourself fascinated by my freckles
and my flaws
and the scars all over from all of the near-fatal gashes
and the heaps and heaps of stardust rusting to my eyelashes
and the fact that i'm always talking about love as if i'd actually had it
i promise
i'd never say you were a fool
i could wear you like split ends
or a crooked grin
a handsome pair in inclement weather
somehow better together
not two halves
of one whole
two wholes
thriving on each other
cigarettes and coffee
whiskey and beer
mmhmmm
we're in the clear from here
nothing but salty tides and starry skies
straight on 'till morning
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 12:29 AM UTC
People will try to read you less
When you have said the truth
As truth is not always palatable
Stand your ground like a rock
Face the inclement weather
Winds of change will bring respite
May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 2:00 PM UTC
We wait for light to dawn on us
As we plan our dreams at night
Planning our entrance to a new day
Knocking on the door we visualize
Run a path of with so many errands
Tired soul, looking for the right exit
Before we are shut out into the cold
We need to enter through the exit
As darkness descends at the day’s end
Many travelers prefer the starry canopy
The wild wilderness and embrace night
Inclement weather one has to weather
Drenched to the soul and feeling tired
It’s time to go look for the shelter
Darkness brings us closer to the cosmic beauty
As we retire exhausted, we travel unknown places
Universe holds so many secrets
Hidden from the bright daylight and noises
Night cuts out the unnecessary activities
As we delve deeper into our souls
Looking for another path to follow
Waiting for the dawn and many chores
Night’s light shall finally drape our soul
As we retire again for the night
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 10:51 PM UTC
You take a seat next to me, and I brush up against your smooth, porcelain skin.
My pupils dilate, the anticipation of your attention captivates my soul.
You say nothing, but your cerulean eyes scold me for my past sins.
Your holier-than-thou ego clashes with my happy-go-lucky mood,
My spirit whimpers and suffocates once again,
My newly repaired heart becomes unglued.
After being forsaken by your eyes, my gaze fixes on your chaste lips.
The daily struggle persists, I fight the urge to kiss the immaculate pink flesh.
For the only thing I shall ever receive from that part of your perfect body are relentless quips.
Like a hopeless, abandoned child, I follow your every move
Yearning to be your untainted doll, like a puppet on a string,
Falling all over myself, feigning euphoria, desperately hoping you approve.
You are the inclement wind, I am the decrepit, shredded leaf.
You shove me along, disregarding my waning will, placing me wherever you want.
You do this merrily, without thought, shame, or grief.
You concoct schemes, working tirelessly, reminding me that I am far too easy to replace
When you become weary of me, you toss me aside, allowing the demons in my head to besiege me.
I am isolated, petrified, and after the devil has his way, my emotions vanish without a trace.
Yet, I will linger, waiting for you, everyday, until I grow old and die.
My soul lusts for the times when you will love me once again.
I covet the days when your amorous words and merciful, cerulean eyes made me feel so high.
Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 6:11 PM UTC
I regret (usually too late), the authority
Of the sitting government.
Any government.
Once in power (I regret that word)
The back room broking good ole boys
At the exit polls loose their senses,
Sight and hearing.
Feelings get hurt.
Taxes are wasted.
The trough gouging is too loud.
I resent lying.
I regret (mostly from the evidence),
The too full baskets of organized religion
Overflowing from indulgences;
The Roman fingers
Poaching coins for another memorial window;
The glass cathedrals
And get-a-way cars.
I resent hypocrisy.
I regret people don't arrive on time
(no matter the time);
Especially when outside anyplace waiting,
Perhaps a light for a smoke is needed,
Or there's inclement weather,
The nearby company is distasteful.
Waiting dinner.
Late children are the worse.
They cause worry.
I resent the selfishness of time.
I regret being diseased,
And hated for it.
When in remission I'm loved.
Active, not so much.
The know-its say it's a matter of will.
Like you can cure
Cancer or smallpox with thoughts.
The one symptom alone, hurt,
Would need temples of meditating chanters!
I resent condemnation.
I regret failed relationships:
Family, friends and women.
My thoughts are mine;
If I said everything
You'd have a different opinion
Of what I am.
So we don't
Because we can't
Say things: we would appear as socio-paths.
We think good and bad;
Therefore we're real.
A virtual humanity.
I resent blathering.
I regret an educational system
That believes in paradigm shifts;
Spouting new-age lingo:
If it's not broken, break it;
Selling out to athletics,
Or Mr., Ms and Mrs. know
All about education;
They went to school.
Bullies top the list.
I resent permissive parents.
Most of all,
I regret
My resentments.
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 12:44 AM UTC
Like thousands of soldiers in parachutes
they come out of the winter sky
One by one hitting the pavement
to claim victory for the season now unfolding
At first they are vanquished almost instantly
a price paid for those leading the charge
However as they begin to accumulate and cluster
a formidable foe is being created
Inch by inch, foot by foot, a fortress is being built
one that can be transformed into an igloo for shelter if needed
Soon the landscape will be covered by a heavy white blanket
left unattended it will run amok overwhelming all
As plummeting temperatures assault those not ready
once open lakes and river pathways no longer escape routes
A battering ram of inclement weather hampering travel
imprisoning those caught unaware of its fury
Snow drifts form obstructing passageways
entrapping those not prepared with an escape route
Waiting out the enemy a defensive strategy now in use
As it surrounds you on all sides building an oppressing presence
High winds and frostbite commingling in the air
that will dominate at the end of the day
Beauty or beast
The conflict yet to be decided.
Andreas Simic ©
Apr 23, 2022
Apr 23, 2022 at 7:19 AM UTC
Close to our ancestral home
Is an ancient champak tree
It now stands almost leafless n’ bare
With its face turned to the sun and sky
Once from far, everyone could see
This lush green Champak tree
It stood in all beauty and grace
And carpeted the ground in fallen blooms
Its lovely blossoms were so redolent
Like tube roses, heady and fragrant
In its dark and leafy glade
How as children, we sat and played
Men weary of work in its sprawling shade
Were sheltered from the heat of midday sun
Once it was a bower of sylvan ease
And on its boughs, birds merrily sang
Rustled in wind and shaken in storm
It braved the inclement weather all these years
With its roots boring deep into the ground
Nothing could uproot the tree from its base
How many stories it has to tell
How many robins roosted in its verdure
How many fledglings took wings into the sky,
From the tiny nests built on its twigs
Now its ancient trunk and gnarled branches
Proclaim sadly that it is about to wither
The tree has just turned itself into
A ghostly shadow of its former self
But the fragrance of these champak flowers
Which still bless the tree in one and two
As if determined to proclaim themselves
Continue to perfume the surrounding air
This tree is much like my ancestral home
Once it was the seat of life and bounty
Now it stays desolate and empty
Spreading memories sweet and fragrant
What solid shelter the house once gave
And how my parents fulfilled their task
Putting all they had into making it a sweet home
That nurtured three generations of our family!
May 27, 2016
May 27, 2016 at 10:33 AM UTC
Tornado sirens’ firin’
Gives your runnin’ shoes the news
That stay’n inside is such a slide
To be fit you pay your dues
Feel the ground a-poundin’
’Neath those skies of green so mean
Inclement weather lives forever
But you will quit, like a machine
Slanted rain’s a pain
Soaks you to your skin so thin
In this world, so brave unfurled
Only bright for those who win
You get no bornin’ warnin’
Of the times to come so glum
’Tis a mission for magician
Strike with lightning, then succumb
Dec 19, 2021
Dec 19, 2021 at 3:46 PM UTC