"infancy" poems
Shake dreams from your hair
My pretty child, my sweet one.
Choose the day and
choose the sign of your day
The day’s divinity
First thing you see.
A vast radiant beach
in a cool jeweled moon
Couples naked race down by it’s quiet side
And we laugh like soft, mad children
Smug in the woolly cotton brains of infancy
The music and voices are all around us.
Choose, they croon, the Ancient Ones
The time has come again
Choose now, they croon,
Beneath the moon
Beside an ancient lake
Enter again the sweet forest
Enter the hot dream
Come with us
Everything is broken up and dances.
85.9k
Shake dreams from your hair
My pretty child, my sweet one.
Choose the day and
choose the sign of your day
The day’s divinity
First thing you see.
A vast radiant beach
in a cool jeweled moon
Couples naked race down by it’s quiet side
And we laugh like soft, mad children
Smug in the woolly cotton brains of infancy
The music and voices are all around us.
Choose, they croon, the Ancient Ones
The time has come again
Choose now, they croon,
Beneath the moon
Beside an ancient lake
Enter again the sweet forest
Enter the hot dream
Come with us
Everything is broken up and dances.
24.4k
It was my thirtieth year to heaven
Woke to my hearing from harbour and neighbour wood
And the mussel pooled and the heron
Priested shore
The morning beckon
With water praying and call of seagull and rook
And the knock of sailing boats on the net webbed wall
Myself to set foot
That second
In the still sleeping town and set forth.
My birthday began with the water-
Birds and the birds of the winged trees flying my name
Above the farms and the white horses
And I rose
In rainy autumn
And walked abroad in a shower of all my days.
High tide and the heron dived when I took the road
Over the border
And the gates
Of the town closed as the town awoke.
A springful of larks in a rolling
Cloud and the roadside bushes brimming with whistling
Blackbirds and the sun of October
Summery
On the hill's shoulder,
Here were fond climates and sweet singers suddenly
Come in the morning where I wandered and listened
To the rain wringing
Wind blow cold
In the wood faraway under me.
Pale rain over the dwindling harbour
And over the sea wet church the size of a snail
With its horns through mist and the castle
Brown as owls
But all the gardens
Of spring and summer were blooming in the tall tales
Beyond the border and under the lark full cloud.
There could I marvel
My birthday
Away but the weather turned around.
It turned away from the blithe country
And down the other air and the blue altered sky
Streamed again a wonder of summer
With apples
Pears and red currants
And I saw in the turning so clearly a child's
Forgotten mornings when he walked with his mother
Through the parables
Of sun light
And the legends of the green chapels
And the twice told fields of infancy
That his tears burned my cheeks and his heart moved in mine.
These were the woods the river and sea
Where a boy
In the listening
Summertime of the dead whispered the truth of his joy
To the trees and the stones and the fish in the tide.
And the mystery
Sang alive
Still in the water and singingbirds.
And there could I marvel my birthday
Away but the weather turned around. And the true
Joy of the long dead child sang burning
In the sun.
It was my thirtieth
Year to heaven stood there then in the summer noon
Though the town below lay leaved with October blood.
O may my heart's truth
Still be sung
On this high hill in a year's turning.
12.2k
Yes, your childhood now a fable of fountains. - Jorge Guillén
Yes, your childhood now a fable of fountains.
The train and the woman filling the sky.
Your shy solitude in the hotels
and your pure mask of another sign.
It is the sea's childhood and your silence
where the wise windows were breaking.
It is your stiff ignorance where
my torso was limited by fire.
I gave you the norm of love, man of Apollo,
the lament of a crazed nightingale,
but, pasture of ruin, you sharpened yourself
for brief, indecisive dreams.
Thought head on, light of yesterday,
indices and signs of what may be.
Your waist of restless sand
follows only trails that never rise.
But without you your warm soul
fails to understand. I must search
the corners of a halted Apollo
that I've used to break the mask you wear.
There, lion, fury of heaven,
I will let you graze on my cheeks;
there, blue horse of my madness,
pulse of nebula and minute hand,
I must search for scorpion stones
and your mother's childhood clothes,
midnight lament and torn cloth
that wiped the moon from the dead man's temple.
Yes, your childhood now a fable of fountains.
Strange soul of the space in my veins,
I must search for you, small and rootless.
Love of always, love of never!
Oh, yes! I want. Love. Let me be.
Don't cover my mouth, you
who search for Saturn's seed in the snow
or castrate animals in the sky,
clinic and jungle of anatomy.
Love, love. Childhood of the sea.
Without you your warm soul fails to understand you.
Love, a doe's flight
through the endless breast of whiteness.
And your childhood, love, and childhood.
The train and the woman filling the sky.
Not you, not I, not air, not leaves.
Yes, your childhood now a fable of fountains.
7.2k
The most beautiful creation in all of existence is a mother.
She's surpassed only by the love she feels for her child,
or children.
She's perfect by design,
God's reflection.
She's a gentle touch in the infancy of our being,
the nurturer of adolescence,
wisdom that guides our maturity.
She's the love that fills our hearts,
keeper of our souls,
a fixture within our spirit.
She exhibits incredible strength,
especially those who bare the burden of being fathers as well.
Life is the house in which we all reside,
but a mother is Home,
that amazing.
She's an angel in the guise of woman,
all of humanity are her offspring.
A day isn't nearly enough time to express our gratitude.
It would take all of eternity.
Know that you are loved,
and greatly appreciated mothers.
Without you there would be no us.
Happy Mother's Day.
- James D. Woods
Jan 23, 2017
Jan 23, 2017 at 6:00 PM UTC
Someday I'd like to wander free
like butterfly, like bumblebee,
perhaps to plant a willow tree
beside the silent solemn sea,
before these things exist no more,
from mountain top to shifting shore,
when, soon, bald eagles cease to soar
and build their aeries nevermore,
and fish forsake polluted streams
(where sulfur swims and typhoid teems
since no one really cares it seems)
to die inside our toxic dreams
while ice caps melt and winter steams,
and all the air surrounding reeks
as children choke, for no one speaks
of fracking wells or oily leaks
(Big Brother's silenced all critiques!),
and rancid rains acidify
so woods no longer multiply
(for God so wills, we can't deny,
which is, of course, our alibi).
And as the deepest ocean fills
with plastic bags, and garbage spills
upon the plains, across the hills
and turns to poison dust that kills
wild dingo dogs and daffodils
which sink in swamps’ forsaken swills,
the mocking bird makes light and trills
(midst waning wails of whippoorwills)
"Behold the surreal scene that chills
and greet the dread that death distills!
You've had your day with all the frills
that brought the flood and final ills
that can't be cured with bitter pills
nor yet undone with further thrills
of profit gained that grinds and fills
dead desert sands with dollar bills."
EPILOGUE
Though swaddled still in infancy,
we feel we’ve reached our primacy
(aloof, though preaching piously,
disdaining deeds of decency)
and have no need of augury.
But in the pit of prophecy
the crucial questions seem to be:
“Is doom Earth’s fate, our destiny
to twist in tides of agony
destroying nature’s progeny
with no return a certainty
assured by death’s finality?”
and
”Should we plant a willow tree
to someday weep for you and me?”
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 2:45 PM UTC
1 THE KIDS
it’s a simple toy
that’s all they want
these gypsy kids
Plastic discards
cups and basins
consumers-people throw away
change into toys and inventions
in the hands of the gypsy kids
Simple inventions
unique in the change
a life of the imagination
free, unencumbered
just a place on the earth
the space they play in today
That’s all the kids want this moment
not confined walls of classrooms
2 THE PARENTS
Just like the kids
Just these dads and moms
who still revel in the infancy of the earth
And their women
who cook a meal
with what the wild might offer
who are content with what’s in the basket
And who can see into the sky
and see what‘s the weather coming
this season
And so when it is time to move, and where
3 GYPSY BEAUTY
Gypsy beauty
dance your body for me
swirl it like water
spin it like a top
fly it like a kite
O gypsy beauty
with your knowing smile
and your distant eyes
O you beauty
who wears the colors of the earth
twirl the elements for me
like the winds show what’s
behind the clouds
4 GYPSY SINGER
O gypsy singer
your voice in the air
like the voices that filled
the first days of the earth
that still echo down
the crags and valleys of the mind
O gypsy singer, sing the earth to peace
Sing hard hearts to gentleness
Raise that voice of yours
that voice pure
always so unencumbered
and bring back vision
to these tired spirits
that possess and ravage the world
sing these city-organized minds to calm,
sing all living beings into clarity
Nov 22, 2012
Nov 22, 2012 at 5:58 AM UTC
Last night I dreamt I cohabitated with
Two beasts, both loved.
The one, a young lioness
The other a spry lamb
I had raised the both from infancy
But the lioness, who was then entering her adulthood began to size up the lamb.
And it occurred to me that in order to
save
the lamb from the lioness
That I must **** and eat it myself
It is the inescapable nature of a lion to
Hunt and ****
livestock
So while there was no scruple or problem for me to have these two animals,
They could not abide one another.
So I did it.
I slaughtered the lamb and cut it's flank and got at its tender meat
And I cooked it and served it with Marsala sauce and that night the lioness and I dined on the flesh of our old friend.
And I became aware eventually,
Between my ravenous gnawings at the meat
That the lioness was not eating.
She was
Staring fixedly
Directly at me.
She did not blink.
And I stopped feasting on the lamb.
And as I did I saw her eyes dilate
And she pounced across the table
And she gored me with her great claws
And split my gut and spilled my innards
And she ate me bit by bit still screaming
Still covered in Marsala sauce.
Before it was over I had but a breath in me and I cried,
"But why?!"
And I realized that it is the inescapable nature of the lion
To hunt and to ****
Not just livestock, not just lambs.
She had hunted and killed us both.
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 5:06 PM UTC
i want you to beat me up
real bad
please please let me bleed completely
before infancy clots at the back of my mind
don't wait for me to be tired
break me all at once
grind my feelings into a powdery mess
so that when someone enters our bedroom they slip on the floor and see a stretch mark-ed ceiling
to not know pain but just how ironical numbness is
and then hug me
like you would a voodoo soft toy
with the scratched leather wings
of a bewitched witch who has seen it all sober
but still can't tell a sheep's wool from snakeskin
caress my dilapidated knees
without once telling me to stand up on my own or for myself
all i want from you is
to **** me at dawn
i'll know that i was loved
enough or.... at least.
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 9:17 AM UTC
If I am kindling,
you must be the spark...
Much alive in the darkest dark,
lifting all shadows with
finesse and flair.
If I am flame,
you must be the air and wind...
Unfettered and free...
Cradling my infancy.
Only to nurture and inspire,
to groom flame to fire.
If I am faltering...
And almost extinguished,
you must be the hand...
Bearing the confidence and belief...
Awaiting the moment most opportune,
to align yourself in rhythm and tune.
So we could...
Continue to
burst forth into light.
So we could...
Resume our journey forth with might.
Let us be our own deterrent
from the darkness
that comes with morrow's set.
Hand in hand, we must...
Because together...
And only together,
we're...
incandescent.
Jan 1, 2016
Jan 1, 2016 at 8:57 AM UTC
I love the stars for a reason I don't know
All I wanna know hides like a pebble on a dirt road
Please reveal this secret only God knows
Come even if I don't know
I just want to let go
Cause I love you so
I want to let you know
I believe in the other worlds planets
I just wanna be your friend
Come to Earth awesome
Come to Earth on a mission of peace
I would be overwhelmed with glee if you would please
Our world falls flat even when it's round
Because earthlings r not to mess around
Fighting one another shouts loud
But I just want to meet the aliens
Starry twinkling of lights and stars down the road for ours
Dreams like for to the worlds
Crazy dreams the planets of ours
I don't think we r ready as of yet
To the stars where there at
Moons ago did they come
Only left questions for our of world
It's been hundreds of years for you and me
To make contact with a species you've watched since infancy
Talking is far off the charts it seems
But the dream will last for what seems an eternity
You may share my poems
Dec 20, 2018
Dec 20, 2018 at 2:59 AM UTC
He sold his pure soul for a fiver,
maybe, the price of a cuppa tea,
sold it to the man of bonds,
of stocks and shares,
who had no cares,
The customer,
he wanted a *** or a ****
wasn't sure which,
either would do.
Glimpsed him out the side of his eye,
what he didn't note was that he cried,
He didn't care the callous man,
Gets satisfaction however he can.
Girl child, boy child,
one thing for certain,
he gave not a ****
He was selfish and cold,
his currency was gold,
pure gold the purity of just past infancy,
crowding in the shopping mall.
The by-passers wanted to intervene,
unable to believe the things that they'd seen.
Day by day,
still the stay,
They should still be free and able to play.
It's life in London, so they say,
Living pain day by day.
Thought that they may find the streets paved with golden kisses,
Home again the other side,
the punter hugs his Missus.
(C) Livvi
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 9:44 AM UTC
You
The real you
The pain of your words cut deep
Not in retribution or contrived delivery
But by the agony behind them
Conveying raw emotion
Your bleeding heart exposed
No frills
No fuss
No 'woe is me'
Just soul wrenching honesty in each and every line
The heartache and pain, flowing like a raging river
Across the page and beyond
Reaching out, begging for recognition
Of the person behind the crimson tide of verse
I hear you
I see you
I heed you
And I feel you
I am drawn to you, drawn to your words
To the man behind the words
And I care
Enough to offer friendship
More to offer love
To know you need not be alone
For I am here
For you
With you
A shoulder to cry on
A chest to lean on
Arms to enfold you and ease the burden of heartache
So powerful is the pull
To be that friend
I cannot ignore, I cannot fight
I surrender to it
I surrender to you
To the beauty of a new friendship
So pure in its infancy
With a lifetime of first and forevers
This I pledge to you
Apr 29, 2017
Apr 29, 2017 at 2:24 PM UTC
Fetus
Born
Infancy
Babyhood
Early Childhood
Middle Childhood
Puberty
Adolescence
Maturity
Old
Die
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 2:29 PM UTC
Stay, O sweet and do not rise!
The light that shines comes from thine eyes;
The day breaks not: it is my heart,
Because that you and I must part.
Stay! or else my joys will die
And perish in their infancy.
3k
My nose began to bleed. Outer space was my calling since infancy. Never again shall I let my mother's daughter down. The cold ***** told me I was a friend then took my Burger King satisfries. All is alright. I took her to Sandals and pushed her in the stingray tank. Oh brutal memories. They sting with a pleasurable swoon. I hammered the nails into my deck with a pressure similar to that of my car tires. Hard. Tight. I whimper with a paper cut. Hand sanitizer heals the hurt. Also alcohol. Or playing darts with my cat. You're the ****** Or is my ex boyfriend's half lover? He said leave, so I stayed.
Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 3:43 PM UTC
Happy those early days, when I
Shin’d in my Angel-infancy!
Before I understood this place
Appointed for my second race,
Or taught my soul to fancy aught
But a white celestial thought:
When yet I had not walk’d above
A mile or two from my first Love,
And looking back—at that short space—
Could see a glimpse of His bright face:
When on some gilded cloud, or flow’r,
My gazing soul would dwell an hour,
And in those weaker glories spy
Some shadows of eternity:
Before I taught my tongue to wound
My Conscience with a sinful sound,
Or had the black art to dispense
A several sin to ev’ry sense,
But felt through all this fleshly dress
Bright shoots of everlastingness.
O how I long to travel back,
And tread again that ancient track!
That I might once more reach that plain
Where first I left my glorious train;
From whence th’ enlightned spirit sees
That shady City of Palm-trees.
But ah! my soul with too much stay
Is drunk, and staggers in the way!
Some men a forward motion love,
But I by backward steps would move;
And when this dust falls to the urn,
In that state I came, return.
2.6k
How to describe that moment when we wake at last?
Tentatively emerging from the comfortable cocoon of that early, endless summer
****** into a cold, vibrant land, full of beauty and pain
Equipped with a newfound vigor but fueled by our disillusionment
Here, in the infancy of our societal influence
Fresh off a restful bout of childhood ignorance
We take aim to preserve that magic, for as long as we can
We dance in the summer rain, so it might not fade away…
But when do we lose focus?
When do we become,
The target of long lost laughter,
relenting to the forces of absurdity?
Perhaps when our world comes crashing down
With the weight of a thousand suns
When purity falls prey to the stalking darkness
That lives in the darkened mire
We’re all lost souls in this garden world
As our sanity stumbles with each passing season
From a fleeting glimpse at beauty in the warmth of the spring
to our frozen heart from winter’s endless pain
What is it we really want then?
As we wake up dreaming of a peaceful life,
of blue skies, and free-flowing thoughts
in the warm embrace of a sun-kissed day
But out of darkness, fear does grow
Those memories seem so far away.
Saddled with willing acts of complacency
We trudge on, immune to our nagging decency
For as we stand on the edge of the abyss
Faced by the power of the absurd
We can’t help but look down
Into the unrelenting grimace of finality
Can we recapture, moments lost, memories fallen
from the hardened heart of our war-torn soul?
For deep inside, perhaps we’ll find
A glimpse at a forgotten past
Might we gather one last breath,
A passing whiff of that summer day
So long ago, when we dreamt of a greater purpose and when magic
Enveloped our reality with the warm embrace of mystery and intrigue
Might we realize then that pain makes beauty?
And as we stand on the edge of the abyss
Trading a summer daydream
For a midnight reverie
We take a step back…
Nov 18, 2022
Nov 18, 2022 at 12:37 PM UTC
My soul is an enchanted boat,
Which, like a sleeping swan, doth float
Upon the silver waves of thy sweet singing;
And thine doth like an angel sit
Beside a helm conducting it,
Whilst all the winds with melody are ringing.
It seems to float ever, for ever,
Upon that many-winding river,
Between mountains, woods, abysses,
A paradise of wildernesses!
Till, like one in slumber bound,
Borne to the ocean, I float down, around,
Into a sea profound, of ever-spreading sound:
Meanwhile thy spirit lifts its pinions
In music’s most serene dominions;
Catching the winds that fan that happy heaven.
And we sail on, away, afar,
Without a course, without a star,
But, by the instinct of sweet music driven;
Till through Elysian garden islets
By thee, most beautiful of pilots,
Where never mortal pinnace glided,
The boat of my desire is guided:
Realms where the air we breathe is love,
Which in the winds and on the waves doth move,
Harmonizing this earth with what we feel above.
We have past Age’s icy caves,
And Manhood’s dark and tossing waves,
And Youth’s smooth ocean, smiling to betray:
Beyond the glassy gulfs we flee
Of shadow-peopled Infancy,
Through Death and Birth, to a diviner day;
A paradise of vaulted bowers,
Lit by downward-gazing flowers,
And watery paths that wind between
Wildernesses calm and green,
Peopled by shapes too bright to see,
And rest, having beheld; somewhat like thee;
Which walk upon the sea, and chant melodiously!
2.5k
Infancy, not remembered
Newborns with original sin
Mother is a vessel
Baptism should come later in
Life
Waves of temptation
Bring the proud to decay
The divine is given to evil men
Who value Greek gods and prey
Upon life
Racing against the depths
Of unforgivable time
We push death out
Of our minds
With true love
The stormy *********** of human life-
Wonderful and forgettable
Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 11:09 AM UTC
Newton, Shakespeare and Lady Day
on the shoulders of giants I totter
science technology and poetry
politics media and philosophy
layer on layer of ideology
collide like matter and antimatter.
Rules from school and infancy
loyalty influence and love.
You ask me what makes me tick.
The clock ticks. My watch ticks.
I quietly wonder - tick, tick, tick.
Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 6:03 AM UTC
Dear BECHER, you tell me to mix with mankind;
I cannot deny such a precept is wise;
But retirement accords with the tone of my mind:
I will not descend to a world I despise.
Did the Senate or Camp my exertions require,
Ambition might prompt me, at once, to go forth;
When Infancy’s years of probation expire,
Perchance, I may strive to distinguish my birth.
The fire, in the cavern of Etna, conceal’d,
Still mantles unseen in its secret recess;
At length, in a volume terrific, reveal’d,
No torrent can quench it, no bounds can repress.
Oh! thus, the desire, in my ***** for fame
Bids me live, but to hope for Posterity’s praise.
Could I soar with the Phoenix on pinions of flame,
With him I would wish to expire in the blaze.
For the life of a Fox, of a Chatham the death,
What censure, what danger, what woe would I brave!
Their lives did not end, when they yielded their breath,
Their glory illumines the gloom of their grave.
Yet why should I mingle in Fashion’s full herd?
Why crouch to her leaders, or cringe to her rules?
Why bend to the proud, or applaud the absurd?
Why search for delight, in the friendship of fools?
I have tasted the sweets, and the bitters, of love,
In friendship I early was taught to believe;
My passion the matrons of prudence reprove,
I have found that a friend may profess, yet deceive.
To me what is wealth?—it may pass in an hour,
If Tyrants prevail, or if Fortune should frown:
To me what is title?—the phantom of power;
To me what is fashion?—I seek but renown.
Deceit is a stranger, as yet, to my soul;
I, still, am unpractised to varnish the truth:
Then, why should I live in a hateful controul?
Why waste, upon folly, the days of my youth?
2.3k
I'm not the only me I see when I see me looking back at me
Bewildered by the impossibility of a blind visionary with the foresight to look past me to find me
I got caught staring so intently I lost sight of the true me completely
You see such savagery and think it must have been nurtured from infancy
While true, I had it in check, hidden away in the captivity of a long forgotten memory
But it still remembered me, waited patiently, predicting my return with a whimsical accuracy
It heard me frantically trying to find the glass to break in case of emergency
Not to set it free but to once again embrace what was scary, what might be the reality of the actual me
Instantly I handed over the key, didn't even keep a copy for me
Knowing exactly what I was doing and what it'd do to me mentally
It was always going to happen this way eventually
Finding solace in it's monotony, no more uncertainty
Both wake up and go to bed with the same angry energy
Done with the pleasantry and all the pageantry projected outwardly to seem more neighborly
Just so the world could be more comfortable with me when I pass through their snooty, gated community
While it pays no mind to what's being done to my psyche
This self destructive entity wasn't only the part of my reality I was told to bury
It is the entirety of my history, sad and happy, comedy and tragedy
I was it and it was me, the merger went so smoothly I believed it was absolutely meant to be, probably
Fighting myself got messy and wasn't necessarily a necessity
In the end there was no surprise who's hand was raised in victory
I already knew the part of me that held superiority but everyone else said it'd turn out differently
Like they got some kind of decoder key
Of course it didn't and they don't, thankfully I was welcomed back too once again become my own worst enemy
It ain't good company but I personally accept that personality and it's starting to warm up to me finally
It's been a strange journey, be thankful I didn't ask you to join me
©2023
Nov 1, 2023
Nov 1, 2023 at 12:22 AM UTC
From humanity’s infancy
We whispered a plea
Then came a hopeful howl
Crushed by the infinite
Beyond the grasp of reason
We cried out to the darkness
Stumbling babies
Longing for a father
Mumbling morons
The stars were there
But the night was bare
Father
Mercy a comforting delusion
Tenderness and purpose
Warm blankets
We wept for something
We never even had
For a father
Fear and tears
For the almighty being
The king of all those
Smitey things
In the night many thought
We heard him reply
We justified the lie
For a fake father figure
In the scary dark sky
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 2:08 PM UTC