"infuse" poems
I'm afraid to write about you because
Ink makes me feel everything,
And everything feels so much more real
When my cursive words smudge up against
The side of my hand and stain it blue
As my pen races to keep up with my heart
But it can't be real,
Because I thought I was moving on,
I thought I was growing up,
I thought I knew all of this was
Foolish and starry-eyed
I thought, I thought, I thought
But maybe I need to stop thinking
And just let myself feel;
Feel the butterflies you put in my stomach,
Feel the pure bliss you infuse into bloodstream
And maybe I don't need to know everything,
Like exactly what you're thinking
Or exactly how I feel
Or how all of this is going to turn out
I guess what I'm saying is that
Everything isn't always going to be clear,
I may come up to "two roads in a yellow wood"
And not be absolutely certain which one I'm meant to take,
But I do know that whichever path I choose,
I'd like to be able to scan the trees and smile
Because you're there walking alongside me.
Sep 5, 2013
Sep 5, 2013 at 10:40 PM UTC
Maids, not to you my mind doth change;
Men I defy, allure, estrange,
Prostrate, make bond or free:
Soft as the stream beneath the plane
To you I sing my love's refrain;
Between us is no thought of pain,
Peril, satiety.
Soon doth a lover's patience tire,
But ye to manifold desire
Can yield response, ye know
When for long, museful days I pine,
The presage at my heart divine;
To you I never breathe a sign
Of inward want or woe.
When injuries my spirit bruise,
Allaying virtue ye infuse
With unobtrusive skill:
And if care frets ye come to me
As fresh as nymph from stream or tree,
And with your soft vitality
My weary ***** fill.
10.1k
Compliments to the baker
and so too my Barista
Smoothest crema on the tongue
juxtapose to lemon vapour.
Intense acute sensations
insist I close my eyes
Submit in rare humility
in awe of nature's true franchise.
Clarion note of citron zest
resounds on mellow creamy seas
Mediterranean sun distilled
now is witnessed here in me.
Tempered, rounded bitter hues
from Amazonian dark recess
waited aeons to infuse
and bring about this wanton bliss.
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 9:59 AM UTC
Take time to care
Infuse with joy
Mend the despair
Bro'hood employ
Achieve in prayer
Lord's love deploy
Long live old boy
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 4:35 PM UTC
Don't be scared to write in ink.
Bleed your thoughts,
let it carelessly infuse between the spaces of blank paper.
You see, sweet-heart,
at least one sliver of your soul will not feel so
e mp ty
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 8:56 AM UTC
I once had a lover that on the most ordinary of days
Out shopping for underwear
Looked at my reflection in the mirror and said
I love the boy in you
And I love the girl in you
And everything in between
Later they asked me what love is
And I said I think that's what love is
Seeing everything in between the reflection
Seeing somebody clearer than they see themselves
I said tell Me you love every piece of me
The skin I shed
The skin that hates this chest
The “it's a boy” they never said
The “I love yous” they never meant
I've spent so much time trying to find the in between where there's no haircuts
Or funny ways of dressing
Or anything confusing about my chest
I'll just keep choosing to ignore the way they say
You're so beautiful
In the same breath as potential
As if it's a credential for my anatomy
Instead tell me I'm the cutest boy you've ever had in your bed
Tell me my body isn't woman it's just the wild
Tell me flesh is nothing
I'm made of light
Tell me my light is beautiful
Touch my soft
Touch my belly button but not like they ever touched me
Touch me like I'm the kind of soft that can turn hard
A tin roof against the rain
Beating a thunderstorms refrain into music
They told me I have too much bark
Too much bite
I'm too pretty to fight
So tell me instead I'm the softest pebble you've ever skipped across your body
And ripples are born of my feathered fists and my hammering heart
Tell me softness has no gender
Tell me our body's never knew what gender meant
I want to be gender bent over till it breaks
And takes the freighttrain words of haters
But don't you cringe under the jagged teeth of their stares
**** my love into your body and hold it there
Always write a poem in my body
And use the words they spit at us
But instead infuse them with a welcome song to tell my body it's found home
Everything we do rhymes with ****** rhymes with **** rhymes with queer
These labels belong to us
The fear in these labels does not belong to us
I'm here to witness you try to live in a body you call home without trying to run away
I wish my body was made of clay so I could fit it into the box labeled
“I love you no matter what”
Will you love me no matter what
If I want you to bend me over backwards until I break the reflection the mirror tries to make of me
And find it's just glass
Like my see through skin
Try to see through my skin
Tell me you see me
I'll see every piece of you
Soft
Hard
Apart
Together
Girl
Boy
But never in a box
I'll take that box labeled “I'll love you no matter what” and I'll break it down
Leave that truth around your bones
Until you believe it can't break
That truth will be our home and we can live in that between because that's where love is.
Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 8:52 PM UTC
You had the same logic of ******
you created the same effect
because I saw you
and I wanted to infuse
your name into my veins.
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 9:55 AM UTC
She wakes up with a shock, instantly feels the blood boil from her head down to her toes. Its the sound of that door.
The repetitive sound of that door slamming is a reminder of the poison in her life who seamlessly seeps into her heart continuing to infuse her mind with hate.
That door is used for a swinging entrance into her soul leaving it with touches of darkness until she simply can't understand how to love another person; how to empathize with another's time of distress. She loses touch, suffering to understand what love is.
The life who uses that door brought her into this world and smothers their existence with cold truths, lies, neglect, and stories of their past; inflicting damaging images and thoughts that cannot be unheard.
She's trying to persevere, but they persist to acknowledge their unreceptive response to her cry's for help, it destroys her light; leading her down the path where the poison starts to consume all her thoughts and distorts her rights to express herself with the constant feeling of never being heard.
You built darkness in her and every layer affects even the smallest of challenges in life but you left her with a flame of curiosity to understand what others could not even care to comprehend; she sustains her curiosity for life.
Mar 15, 2019
Mar 15, 2019 at 6:39 PM UTC
Hildegard of Bingen
the most musical abbess
of the year 1097 a.d.
met with Jung the unconscious detective
and Ginsberg the howling poet
for lattes at some Starbucks
in a vibrating city
on a shimmering afternoon.
Angelic minuets keep flowing,
effervescing through my chakras
like tonal champagne . . .
the glowing femme declared.
Beams of ethereal light infuse me,
tsumanis of energy tempt me
to dance right out of my habit.
Ignoring the possibility
of seeing a naked nun drink coffee in public,
Alan mused behind his hornrims . . .
I get what you mean
like I have felt the same perfusion of joy
watching cans of peas and ayahuasca
dance with talking bananas
at the A&P; Market near my pad in Brooklyn,
can you dig it?
Still suffering from his Freudian hangover,
Carl reframed them both . . .
Any conclusions or convictions
drawn from such experiences
may not self-verify because
your introspective identifications
attempt in vain
to concretize the amorphicity
of decentralized psychic sensations
which reach conscious awareness
only at the expense of extension.
What did he just say?
Hildegard asked Alan.
I have absolutely no idea,
the portly poet answered
as he doodled an intricate mandala
on his hemp napkin.
Jan 1, 2012
Jan 1, 2012 at 12:21 AM UTC
*I woke up extra early
To pick wildflowers from the meadow
I gathered goldenrods and roses
And picked some baby's breath
I watched the dewdrops scattered
Across the blades of grass
I watched the colors of gold
And lavender infuse the morning sky
I took a piece of baby blue ribbon
And tied it around my flowers
To hold your special bouquet in place
For this is your last bouquet here
And this is your special day*
~Marian~
Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 2:55 PM UTC
Where shall a hungry mermaid dine
When she hankers, for something fine?
Spiny oysters make a nice cocktail;
And octopus tentacles; and grey narwhal.
And where should she sit, and what shall she use
To stab her undersea feast, infuse
Her goblet, filled up with sparkling sea water,
Awaiting her course, of fresh sea-otter.
And should she tip, at the end of the meal
The dolphin who served her so much krill,
In his scrutable suit, of skin-tight rubber-
(The respectable mermaid never eats blubber).
Jul 26, 2010
Jul 26, 2010 at 7:35 PM UTC
Hanging around the old cabaret,
where nighthawks steal glances
at the curators of tired eyes,
the walking dead take leave
of their senselessness
entering blurred reality
Someone calls for another round
shouting fire down his throat as
A dart nicks the narrow space between
two fates and falls to the floor
avoiding both,
leaving him in a rage
She pockets the change they left her
or forgot, while
laughs infuse the acrid smoke,
ricocheting into nothing
Jul 1, 2012
Jul 1, 2012 at 10:34 PM UTC
അ** Getting closer, to the just bloomed flower
that bewitched him in an instant,
the honey bee gets intoxicated
by the web of love,
the sweet flower threw around,
it felt more like a gentle caress
to which his heart jumped!
He starts to do an ecstatic dance,
never thought he could,
till this sweet moment arrived,
merely touching her soft petals
he flies high as if to proclaim his pleasure
buzzing a new tune he composed
for this special moment,
he circles the flower
as if to adore her beauty
form all possible angles
making the moments of love
so special for them both..
ആ** A butterfly enchanted by the flower,next
has a dance of love so different,
he would flit around and hover above
adore her beauty in a more relaxed pace,
he appreciates her silence to his soft declarations,
his love songs have no words, on air written
by the sprightly moves of his colorful wings,
he knows she loves it and his dance tells it all.
Like a kite on the waves of wind, he bobs on air
gently descending,looking at her eyes.
ഇ** The tailor bird who never misses
mother nature's children all,big and small,
in their myriad ways of loving and living
watches what's going on,
without batting an eye lid,
she has a doubt
"Who among these
lovers are more intense?"
she thinks aloud.**
ഈ** The sonorous singer,
Bulbul watching it all
from the hanging branch
of a Champak, flowered in
riotous profusion answers:
ഉ "Both are poets, no doubt,
of distinction too,
each of their deeds
spontaneous demonstrates,
with hearts full of love
they wave poetry around us
in ways ingenious
paired with flowers.
why compare them?
Mother nature's brush
dexterous paints each one of us
with such loving care and kindness
to infuse celebratory spirit,to the world,
never forget that,learn from the bees and butterflies."*
May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 12:07 AM UTC
I reference this not as the flower just of nature but in this case for the fact it is our anniversary this is an
Oleander of my heart yes the heart is a house all of my feelings and emotions are housed there the
Flower I choose to write about is my sister my wife’s sister Liz it’s kind of appropriate since she was the
Only one in our wedding party as we were married before a judge I guess she was a witness a witness to
The crime as it were to describe her I can use Roy Orbison’s song pretty woman a blonde cutie with
Southern roots in Tennessee now she is a near Chicago northerner take southern nights and northern
Bright lights infuse them with grace and charm you have begun to see the Oleander that lies beyond my
Door yard along my walk and borders the yard of my heart the glistening in the spring rain if you get real
Still you can hear tiny sounds of laughter among the joy filled faces the scented bloom fills my living
Room where ever I am eye catching satisfying delightful spring and summer what a wonder the spilling
Forth of fruitful life she matches the rose in pose an attitude of significance tinged with just enough
Brashness to hold your attention until you become beholden to the inner life that shows character
Wisdom authority a driven wind that lays down in the most beautiful fashion only to arise and make the
Trees sing the glass to shake in the most enjoyable way all in unison they dance the eye stormed by this
Profusion of elegance and color truly a best friend to the wayward wind carried near and far secrets rest
Within the heart that the Oleander knows and claims in darkness unflappable a sweet ghostliness an
Arbor found sweetly remembered but never forgotten unspoiled withstanding the day’s heat showing
Resilience a buoyancy of sprit uncommon the thrill that runs with deep rootedness when the sharp wind
Does blow she through power of will brings calm a flourish of maturity so lovely that is outstanding in all
these gifts she provides the greatest is she calls me friend thanks sis
Jul 6, 2013
Jul 6, 2013 at 6:53 PM UTC
You caught lightning in your mouth
and kissed the world a thunderstorm
All Four Winds bleeding out,
moment by moment
and stilling the night;
instill it with silence.
Infuse it with waiting
bait our breaths--
_--The ocean's saline, and
I'm surprised to say,
it seems to like us.
Lips can clamp or loosen,
catch and hold or unleash.
Choose one?
it's catch-and-release._
I gulped wondering into my mouth
and I spit out an omen.
Dolmen smile fading now;
twin teeth releasing
floodwaters
from this tomb door of a frown.
Quell the squalling night;
implanting our silence.
Infused with surrender.
Hold no breath.
Anyway...
We don't check on each other...
_...or look at our neighbors._
Yesterday's just that, friend.
Sep 12, 2025
Sep 12, 2025 at 3:19 PM UTC
Breathe the silk impression of this skin pressed into you,
Infuse my dreams with reality.......rose
Strip me, one sense at a time;
Touch me...
Touch me...mould me into your open arms...
Paint me with the trail of your tongue....
I will dance for you,
Slow
Body sways, that beg you heed
My hips whisper of fiery petals, leading you
To temptation's gate...
A savoured decadence,
Your shape shadowing mine,
Lowering into my waiting arms
Skin upon skin...
Run the tip of your tongue along my spine
Ride my pulse higher,
Wash over me
Leave me wet and wanting
And I will devour you with my hungry mouth...
My probing tongue,
Surface scanning your skin,
Delicious...
I will sink beneath your hidden desires
My playground, here inside your sighs...
Envelope my breathy willingness,
Awaken to your addiction in devils thighs...
Sip my liquid gift
And know, I burn....
I burn for you....
My soft glisten, a pout upon swayed surrender,
Melted beneath a ride of skin,
Craving....craving always the singe that
Trembles these silky strands...
Your electric essence,
Painted red... mind hungry,
Where eyegasms impregnate the heart of this woman.................rose
Jan 21, 2013
Jan 21, 2013 at 2:37 PM UTC
and she is like a painting,
the colors of her soul infuse the dark world around her.
Flowers grow at the sound of her laugh,
for that's all the warmth they need.
Her smile radiates across the room,
a light that invites and guides those who are lost.
She lives, not with an overconfidence in herself,
but with an understanding that her beauty is up to interpretation.
She is able to admire the other paintings in the gallery,
but still knows she has something beautiful to offer.
She is just herself,
and she is like a painting.
Sep 16, 2021
Sep 16, 2021 at 2:09 PM UTC
**That cup of tea, remember... the one I made for you
just enough for one to share, but not enough for two,
for while you sipped your cup of tea, your fresh and tasty brew
the one I made through chivalry, was the one that I would rue,
whilst reaching for the coffee beans, their flavour to infuse
that caffeine fix, dark and rich, were low from overuse,
within that roasted coffee jar, I clutched the unforeseen
for held confined, in there to grind... just one solitary bean.**
... ... ...
Apr 10, 2011
Apr 10, 2011 at 3:40 AM UTC
He called me princess. I don't think much of it, let it slip my mind from time to time.
I'm fine with it.
Until today, when I watched a woman tell a little girl she wasn't one.
Talking about how her daddy shouldn't call her what she's not and her mama shouldn't be filling her head with words like, "You can be anything you want to."
Like, its not true and if you don't tell her now she'll never outgrow the idea of being
A princess.
And though Heaven forbid we dreams big,
I, was definitely a princess.
Princess Aleisia of the Beauties, a forest is my own back yard,
my castle was a tree I literally believed gnomes lived beneath: Alglenia.
An orphaned warrior; I was half gypsy, half native, half Neopian Light Faerie,
And though I clearly was not a princess who did math, I protected my subjects from monsters and evil that was constantly trying to overthrow good.
I could wield a Morning Star better than any boy on the block.
I had inner battles with myself, for I had the blood and horns of a dragon and it was always a challenge to be both Athena's apprentice and an aspiring sage because I thrived in the dark.
I was part demon like Inuyasha,
I was Sango,
I was Mononoke,
I was Mulan,
I was Pocahontas,
I was Bell AND the Beast,
I was Susan and Lucy,
I was Esmerelda, Anastasia
And that's still a big part of me.
Because, if someone had listed all the things I couldn't be while my knees were still to weak for me to stand and speak up for what I believed in, I probably would never have been a poet.
So excuse me for using the word "heroine" with the last ounce of innocence the world has yet to offer a little girl.
Pardon me for trying to learn to infuse grace and charm with strength and loyalty.
Now, imagine with me.
The places I used to play left in ruin. My castles disintegrating. The echo of my battle cries through the forests and fields and mountains have long since faded because the heir to my throne never took her place.
Deny her the right to grow out of her child hood?
Deny me the right to write?
This was never a career choice of mine,
This will always be a way of life.
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 4:45 PM UTC
Broken things require glue
Turn around that's you
Don't stand by and watch me break
This world needs NOT another fake
Take a moment to embrace me
Your touch will set me free
Pure hands infuse humanity
Deliver it just for my sanity
There is no mistaken identity
Inside you is my serenity
One touch ... a basic need I concede
My ache is now full speed
Do not make me beg
Press in and heal my plague
Today I ooze of selfishness
You are familiar with my reticence
Guilt draws near and whispers
Push past its tiny embers
My need today transcends
Straight from you, no bends
I lay curled up in a ball
Listen, do you hear my call
From you, I plead one task
One touch ... it's all I ask
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 2:18 PM UTC
I am lost:
My mind scattered
In endless constellations above me.
As dreams infuse with reality
And thoughts diffuse into insanity
I realize:
To be insane is to see the infinite.
Mar 8, 2014
Mar 8, 2014 at 4:45 AM UTC
The known unhappy
cannot infuse its poison
on the unknown happy
because the known unhappy
is merely doing what known unhappys' do
miseries need company as the known unhappy knows
and the known unhappy will always be searching for victims
so know that the known unhappy is already known as unhappy
and all the known unhappy does is because its knows its unhappy
so feel pity for the known unhappy and grace your unknown happiness
For real happiness emanates from within and that's unknown to known unhappiness
for its known that it cannot find happiness, its unknown
Jul 17, 2020
Jul 17, 2020 at 7:44 AM UTC
You’d have better luck storing rain in your mouth
Steadying quiet clouds with your eyes
Alive
Mere perfection doesn’t exist I see
No
And the cake is a lie
It’s the desire to interject
And infuse
Which I push against
Yourself insinuating from which I hide
This look says me
Let me feel my feelings felt
Or else there is no point left alive
Sep 3, 2019
Sep 3, 2019 at 11:31 AM UTC
Come, take my hand
Follow me into the forest
The fallen leaves, drenched with rain, will guide our path
Through the shaded glade and up the moss covered hill
Don’t be afraid to step in the mud
Listen, hear the crisp snap of twigs echo in the distance
The soft lull of trickling water, flowing in the creek
Watch, catch a glimpse of the timid deer
Hiding in the thicket and the little squirrel
Lilting across the treetops, acorns in cheek
Touch, stroke the rough bark beneath your fingertips
Caress the summer leaves, immerse your hands
In the tranquility of soothing waters
Feel, accept the dawn’s gentle kisses upon your face
The pure spirits that inhabit the trees
Feel nature pulsing through your body with renewed vitality
Breathe deeply;
Infuse your lungs with the richness of life
And speak:
Tell me, Mr. Arborist,
Do you still wish to destroy the forest?
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 11:43 PM UTC
*chosen child for nature's creativity
tangoing to the sway of twilight trees
such spiritually sensual sensibilities
hypersensitivity heightening passion
life intensified in intellectual interest
love embellished with emotional empathy
oh, to bottle her elusive essence
to drink in her wistful nights
to infuse my tea with her promise
to scent my pillow with her dreams
uncork the atmospheric aroma
of sepia tinged crescents
wafting in celestial patisseries
sweeten the clear blue skies
with mists of crystallized honey
perfuming the divine aether
oh, fill my breath with her ephemeral
synchronize my life's pulse to the
metronome ponytails of skipping girls
followed by the tails of wagging dogs*
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 1:07 PM UTC