"innumerably" poems
A lot many times,
Constantly,
Innumerably,
Perpetually,
I am too handicapped to write
A sentence
Or
Two... words, one word, three words, four words...
Like a poet. I am too unconfident or inconfident or disconfident or... Is it unconfident? No, yes, no. Yes.
I am too broke, mentally, exhausted reserve of words, letters and alphabets that I am not native to, but are mine since I was born and my real language is lost amongst the chaos of my broken English. I can't be a good writer like this.
I can't be a poet, I am a person merely aware of a few things in life and can't express it clearly so I think vague poetry helps, even though I write it I can't interpret someone else's poems.
I am not qualified to be a poet. I haven't written 200 sonnets or a 1000 poems on various themes of life, not qualified to write poems on all stages of Human Development. I have only written a 100 poems... Actually, 150. But you can think it's 100.
I am not a poet. I am not old, I am not famous. I am not dead. Why should I be called a poet?
I am just a person who is expressing oneself, I shouldn't get so haughty and give myself a designation. Yet.
Let me grow old and decay in time, so when the earth swallows me up, provided people know me then by luck or chance, I might become a poet. I might.
I am not a poet.
But then, who IS poet?
Mar 25, 2017
Mar 25, 2017 at 5:17 AM UTC
forget not words, body
thy soul is
and
hair fantastically ; more unsquare
than an angle
measurable. Not
A
number
,
a
S
H
a
pE divisble
or an exact
adding of some subtracted
arithmetical wholeless
singular substitution. (your
mouth
is
a
quiet
groove
of
darkest
earth
)where
innumerably
grows
the
destroying colour
of infinite flower
Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 3:43 PM UTC
With a hint of death
mingling in the air,
the nocturnal snapdragon is
digging wells,
not just for water,
but also as final resting
places for friends back home,
in the garden,
deep within the soil.
Callous hands and feet
speak of insufficiency
and misery under the sun,
the one lone solace comes
with night,
and the partaking of
her body's delicacies,
bringing her innumerably
to the helve,
as she sings heavenly things
about the architecture
we creatures fall
so easily from.
Nov 30, 2020
Nov 30, 2020 at 6:59 AM UTC
Day after day
I kept on
Stacking those phrases
And I created a different
Glossary In my mind
Of unwarranted thoughts
Floating in some other place
Seeking attention
Being ignored
Wailing for approval
Rejected innumerably
Creating a hassle in my mind
A fracas among those letters
Causing dementia
But it's me myself
The bone of contention
Of these unattended
Lies.
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 3:26 AM UTC
o how easily your lips become me,
the burning crimp
of urging kiss,
to depart myself
and wander amongst
thy body holy and vile ridiculous winsome trivial spectacular,
(arm and thigh)
whose sweep and gait is love
made ready for tongue
to impart slowly tenacious,
whose comely hair is course tender difficulty splendrous,
whose moments are singeing exactly innumerably few
(and never enough)
who i have longed for in deepest valleys of untouching cruelty
(to cup thy whole mouth
in my mouth,
to carry it forward
thy kiss a burning standard
into inkset darkest darkness of night
that i might walk without stumbling;
that i might see )
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 3:37 PM UTC
taut the barb which my heart
flung away and adorned – such language is black while
many others have their places that silence
had fractured.
the punctual shadow of the night,
I converse in them
through the pulse of the roots and their
consistent counter-beats.
the many others, whose centers encircle
heavy in their viscera:
enisled as a conference of birds
in plenitudes of brindled mouths – the augury
that sees itself, my full being – this nocturne
of stone-flight. the cosmic working of the sky
that hands me, a necklace of stars which implausible pearls
simmer in fond gleaming: these foundlings that are
dreamt away, and named innumerably across
many other anonymities we recall with a throng of sound.
in my hands the night folds like an origami
conscious of its florid ikebana,
as there could be another splendid thing
like the calm: glimpsed, coveted like the light
of all things grave in darkness.
Jan 8, 2016
Jan 8, 2016 at 9:17 AM UTC
I, whose sleep gloats
searching for answers, steering for a dream
I take my place amongst men
in parks, in alleys, in trains,
and the Sun unmasks itself
like timeworn skies of linoleum.
trees their bulwarks realize such oneness
and birds start to rain
where time wounds all feelings
and lovers innumerably lay flat on their bellies.
mountains ***** as tall as truths,
and the sleuth more than my body’s engine
turns less than a seraphim – dizzy with the
night’s utmost haranguing.
I, whose soul returns not with garlands
but with chains as my phantoms go with them
swimmingly across the blue Earth
and a man brindled, tussled against
space that so distant the star becomes so near
and all sleep lose names of dreams.
Dec 18, 2015
Dec 18, 2015 at 12:45 AM UTC
when greener sits atop me earth
astride the human rind practically
eatage thrusted blueward hair
i'll innumerably chant life from
desiccated lips i'll sing life and
i'll say a whole ocean of upon
grass will lovers make dew
which (like me shall) make again
a body of beating and bragging
under stars and over me shall
make the feet of those miraculous
youth drunk kissers and i won't
be dead i'll be in every mouth
parted love hew imbued each other
like i did with you one summer ago
in sweetest juice of night honeying
every limb in suppler moonest light
Feb 17, 2012
Feb 17, 2012 at 5:23 AM UTC
I come a robin's egg blue sky
With a sun and a night
Lean, dank, and innumerably
Looms with magic
Just at the nape's of
Street lights
May 4, 2012
May 4, 2012 at 12:05 AM UTC
to count you amongst numberless heavings
(smally colliding) of human voice thousands
screaming all dimly numb voices into dumb
voices numbly dimming(stars like innumerably
dying flicker less fast into darkness but still do)
would be a lie more truthful than living is truth
for though dying flicker: you burn
(and i whisper into you a very tiny spark;love
which ekes through your cheeks black wine
freshly distilled instantly drunken beautiful;flesh)
hanging on a petal of deeply sepaled night
(pearling dew) a sigh escapes across fields
of mute flowers up tumbling mountains reaches
stupid immortal silence and fear nothing hands
for falling though stars, silence, mountains, muted flowers, human voices:
YOU
Dec 28, 2012
Dec 28, 2012 at 4:20 AM UTC
how like stars, innumerably beautiful, do girls crowd her face(the earth)whose cheeks, like those infinite pretty sparks, swell with the nubile quavering light o' ladies perfumed in youth; which cling to my eyes and soul like those fierce twinklers to the deep quiver of night.
Jan 5, 2012
Jan 5, 2012 at 4:42 PM UTC
I Want to make love to you,
innumerably,
over time and space,
between sheets and over hills.
And I want to make it last,
longer than the age of man,
(longer than a decent sized ****
And I want it to be with you.
We may not know love.
But we love to know,
that in each other, we find
The absence of solitude
And the abundance of
Well,
We can skip the semantics and
toss in some romantic entanglements.
Should you not find fault in my style
we could move in after a while
I won't dump you for something better
(unless I find something better)
Sure darlin, only time could tell
But you know good and well
time isn't waiting for us.
I'm almost twenty-three
and a fair bit lonely
But I like spending time with you.
Lets not play games
you know they're all the same.
lets state our intentions outright.
For once in our lives be true
Maybe,
One day,
I might love you.
Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 3:22 AM UTC
I am not ashamed.
I have survived the long, slow torment,
the only hell that is real,
the one that hijacks your mind,
steals away every thing that you love
and magnifies all of your fears innumerably.
I will not lie or hide myself away to appease you.
But instead, while you are judging me, too afraid to acknowledge your own darkness
I will have the courage to try again tomorrow.
Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 3:10 AM UTC
heavy all the quiet laying music thickly between livingdying November
is suddenly stirred
at foot through many
running and laughing children
(wisps of growingfrailing stuff innumerably sheathed in a smalling pat of pale light)they
charge and roll up a hill by the school yard, boysandgirls together
boysandgirls together up going
a hill
(whose mothers stand at the bottom and try to catch them when they fall
Nov 24, 2012
Nov 24, 2012 at 4:13 PM UTC
My heart is with this stone.
As silent energy
it forces crisis after crisis.
It slings brutality across your face,
like ice.
It lords it over life.
“Sweetheart”,
you spoke that world unbearably,
like ****
as beautifully as evening
when the whimbrel’s seven fluting notes
innumerably measure how the distance
widens between earth and moon.
I might have listened
but my heart is with this stone.
Dec 27, 2016
Dec 27, 2016 at 5:27 PM UTC
Grains
Fields
slipping between the fingers
everything good is lost
in the sands
torn shreds
vocal cords
twang
my words and wisdom
petering like a flame
in the wind
my screams
stuck in an empty box
A planetary dance
the ink of night
that fills the void
dotted with grains
of light
the sound of music, haunting on the winds
rain
to wet the fields
I have waited for times
innumerably long
the grains of youth
loose in my palm
rhyme and reason
scope and measure
incongruent and failed to calibrate
calcium oxide
lithium hydride
explosive shells
exiting heat
dying mass
compressed gas
the ears of eden lost
the echoes of crying,wailing eyes
a glimpse of pain
grains of sand
I am violently vomiting excretions of words
that may mean naught
fought and died
dead soul of a long ago
wise words of a passing lad
screams, screams, screams and shouts
empty and wholly without
Feb 23, 2023
Feb 23, 2023 at 9:57 PM UTC