"interlacing" poems
The world is small even heaven isn't big
but an uncreated Word is,
an expression of love and promise!
The tale of the beginning
the tale of the end without the ending.
Soon God said it 'Qun' be
bang it couldn't be bigger indeed.
Everything small and big the complete
creations panache came to be so big!
The body is small the soul came in the front
and every soul big banged in one go.
All heard the same Word it was only one
that sets the tone for the first to the last
so sweet it took everyone’s heart!
The death wouldn’t touch the soul
that already died but couldn’t die.
Revived there and then instantly,
hearing the 'Qun' the uncreated melody!
Crooned up even through the dead-end
surged up to the other side of the black hole.
Like a waxing Moon passed over, crossing
the asleep body in the shadow, yet in the making!
Unable to resist it, the first big bang
didn’t happen amidst the material entity
not in the star, milky way or in the galaxy.
Adam was yet to be in the body
the physical ear was yet to hear it!
Unlike the tuned in abyss soul there
that harks and the clouds rise and rain
only to revert back to the sea
showering the shallow terraqueous body.
He said ‘Qun’ again and the first physical big bang
on the matter takes place in Fathima’s joint
interlacing her live soul and pre-design body.
It cuts through the irrational pi in between
the soul and body so that gel in melody!
With pure love without a condition
that shall keep up perpetuating the body!
Nature that was yet to be, gets a mirror in its entirety
and bangs big hearing an echo of ‘Qun’ be, says the Almighty
it comes to be and shall perish only to be an eternal body!
Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 10:27 PM UTC
*A parade of fluorescent silhouettes,
Aim against a tranquil lit afternoon sky,
In a collage of interwoven blossoms,
Casually stretching,
Side by side.
Releasing a pleasant aroma,
Interlacing within the calming sea,
As the water creases, upon a bed of shimmery grains,
Below a shade of fluffy clouds,
A place you would never want to leave.
When the tides slowly washes in,
In a rich and mild lather .... lacking impel,
Underneath a ribbon of distinctive seashells,
Leaving a mesmerizing imprint,
And a magical spell.*
Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 1:06 PM UTC
Oh, What a View!
from this hazy morning hue,
Familiar faces interlacing
back-trip Flashes
Heart is Racing
In my brain &
through my veins
i still feel the
ACID STAIN
Recollections of
Reckless Havoc,
Wreaked when I was
Trapped in Magic
man
last night
who was i ?
right now i'm fading from my sight
I am here while i am There
and I have yet to Find my Mind .
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 10:35 AM UTC
Welcome Back To This, Your Isle
The rabbits beneath the deck,
Even the pesky deer who eat the shrubbery,
Sea creatures, living and spirits of the dead,
Lying on the paths and in the creeks of Silver Beach,
All inquire:
Was it better wherever you went?
Were the:
Bears, hiding in the forests outside Berlin,
Eagles, double headed, of Russia
Herring, fried, creamed, wined,
From the vendors on the docks of
Helsinki, Riga, Visby and Tallinn,
Salmon, smoked and cured in Stockholm,
More impressive,
Tastier than our striped bass,
Island cohorts of yours, who waited patiently
For their chronicler to return?
Did the Little Mermaid and her Dolphin
Guardians of the Port of Copenhagen
Welcome you more warmly than your friends,
The ospreys, lizards, turtles and owls
Who overwatch your steps and safety
When hiking in Mashomack Preserve?
Are the interlacing tidal creeks,
Woodlands, fields, salt marshes and the ragged,
Irregular but charmed coastline of this cherished island
Any lesser than those of Scandinavia?
Are the sea-going ferries that transverse the
Baltic Sea and the Gulf of Finland,
More poetic than the Menantic or the Lt. Joe,
Who carry you swiftly home to us?
The National Geographic people say that in
Tivoli Gardens, The Amerikaner (ha!) waffle ice cream cone
Is one of the ten best in the world.
Guessing they have not made it yet to the
Tuck Shop for some Moose Tracks!
Were you unaware that our isle settled before
Peter the Great ever envisioned creating the grand
Boulevards of his capitol, St. Petersburg,
Route 114 was a traveled forest path,
By settlers and Indians, not serfs.
Of the Treasures, the Gold Room of the Hermitage,
The Amber Room of Catherine's Palace,
Wrote not a single word, we observe.
Your attentions, they did not deserve?
The answers all, self evident.
Here, surrounded by the gentle breezes of
Long Island Sound and Gardiners Bay,
Sweet and salty flavors of the Peconic atmosphere,
Words unlocked, from your eyes to the page fall,
Smudged by joyous tears, for the muses of the island
Have embraced you yet again and rebirthed
Inspiration, within their comforting, sheltering grasp.
Silver Beach
July 22, 2012
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 4:50 PM UTC
there was no poem neath my pillow
no poem on my tongue, none from eye envisionaries, no dew gift from my grassy emissaries, parting residue of an unknowable finger touch
nothing stirring, the mother muses mushing their shushing noises,
only breathy quietude, an airy surround sound tissue,
the cadence of intermingled hearts, the mother and the child
two awakenings, one instantaneous, the other restless unhurried slow, but within an impatience to intersect,
the overlap is love stars crossing,
impatience weaponized to make
momma aware her companions refreshed status,
a needy for love’s suckling,
embrace of fresh baked smiles from hot heartedly hearth furnaces
thus a-born a new poem, a welcomed well coming, in words,
the alliance of alliterated words from the interlacing of the mother’s chest heaving and the sniffling joy of a five year old boy reimagining the dreams that crossed from mother to son, and back again, requiring composition and joint authorship of them
*the only and only true authentic authorship,
mother and child, their owned unique
duality of singularity*
Feb 7, 2019
Feb 7, 2019 at 2:30 PM UTC
the rough texture on his fingers
from putting his soul into his art
his guitar, all black and shiny
a piece of art alone, extra special when he plays it
the warmth of his palm
i trace the lines that cover it
making an 'A' on the center
i clasp my hand, interlacing our fingers
rubbing my thumb against his
i kiss him
nothing makes me happier
than the simple feeling
of his hand
Apr 25, 2017
Apr 25, 2017 at 9:23 AM UTC
We sit next to each other
In the mezzanine
Of the crowded theater
Our matching purple outfits
Far too dressy for the occasion
But who cares
We look **** good
You put your hand out
Palm up
And look at me
As I smile
My coy, giddy smile
And place my hand on top
Interlacing my fingers with yours
The lights dim
And the show starts
But you never let go of my hand
Even when it gets weird and clammy
You never pull away
Even when I snort into your shoulder
And wipe away my laughing tears
You still hold onto me
You gently stroke my arm
Your warm thumb
Against my smooth bicep
And I can't help but smile
I look over
And catch you staring
Which makes me blush
And get coy again
The mezzanine
The balcony
The floor
It all disappears
When I feel your touch
Your light touch
Just glide over my skin
I float to another dimension
When you lean over
And kiss my cheek
Only coming back
To the mezzanine
When I open my eyes
Sep 19, 2018
Sep 19, 2018 at 10:19 AM UTC
Let me be,
As God intended me to be:
Neither a wicked elf,
Nor a fairy godmother,
Never a demon,
Nor an angel,
But a true woman,
Oh! No, not the ‘Phenomenal Woman’
Of Maya Angelou,
Drawing a hive of honey bees round
‘With the span of my hips
Or the stride of my steps’
But,
One with a loving heart,
Calm and caring
Though at times touchy and itchy
A gracious host and a helpful neighbor
Able to stand in my own light
And lessen the darkness of the night
An abiding spouse
In whom my man can see
An ocean of love in my dewy eyes
And feel the steady warmth of my grip
When the seas of life grow stormy,
For my children, an adorable mother
In whom they can confide,
Their doubt, despair or delight
A counselor, a friend and guide
With the balm to heal their wounds
Touch and move their spirits
And show them the miracle of love
Piecing together these different roles
Let me, into a close knit texture weave
The fabric of my life!
Like the interlacing threads
Of a great tapestry!
In a way, is not living the art of quilting
Bringing out unique patterns
Of exquisite beauty and delight
From the scraps thrown in our way!
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 7:13 AM UTC
Ushered into the breathable
Strung on undefinable threads,
Life's atmospheric interlacing;
A weaving, hidden to opaque sight
Subtle ties, loosen and relax,
Chest enmeshed entirely,
Titillating summations of Earth's enthusiasm
Entwine in activities of the lungs and heart
Pumping action, energy, growth,
Air feeds fire, and power, and blood,
Burning from the inside, animated,
Billions of cellular suns, throbbing
Light in the garden of the body,
Alive with murmurs, and hums
Of love, all of time, and space,
Moved to produce this oscillation
Ecstatic the body expands in swells,
Ecstatic the body contracts in swells,
Ecstatic are the waves exchanging,
Ecstatic is the surge of breath
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 3:19 PM UTC
There is a Softness in the Shadows,
On a breezy, Sun~filled Day.
Splashing Contrast divides the Colors,
trading within the shade,
An interlacing patchwork, Arrangement by Rotation,
Earth's Grandly Spun Bouquet.
Movement amongst the shifting Patterns,
playfulness in~All direction,
Like children chasing randomness, Laughing in the garden
that echoes through with effortless, nonchalant Expression.
Eastwardly to Westwardly,
Tracing loftily between Tree leaves, Mountains broad projectories, deepening the Shadows Shade,
Yawned in stretching reach,
Duality of Accolades,
like Coastlines of a Beach.
Lost in Lover's parting Kiss,
In Amorphous Amore,
Animates explicitly,
A shy Shadow's story.
Into the deep embrace of Night,
A lingering at Sunset's Crest,
Hallowed out in Shadow's shade,
Sewing~dreamy patchwork Seams
of Fabric feathered Sleep.
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 7:56 PM UTC
Kiss me,
So I may drown in this amorous affair,
Savoring the delicious taste,
Of your lips against my own.
Hold me,
Your arms clasped around,
My petite body,
Skin touching skin,
Finding warmth in your blanket,
Of security and adoration,
Burrowing into the flowing fabric,
Of your embrace.
Never let me go,
I yearn to hear the inhales,
And exhales of your breath;
You glance at me,
Chuckling in delight,
As your thoughts turn,
To how enchanting you view me to be.
Caress me,
Allowing your firm hands to explore,
The slight curves,
Of a soft feminine exterior,
Yearning for the stroke,
Of your fingertips upon me.
Does love not knock upon the door,
Of your innermost chamber?!
Listen Please,
Silence your scattered thoughts,
Allowing you to hear,
The lulling seductive melody,
Depicting the presence of Eros,
In the heat of the night.
I shall pray you stay,
With fingers tightly interlacing,
For the fates bestow us,
With a blessing,
Perhaps a curse,
Receiving a bond to unite us.
An illicit connection,
In the eyes of others,
Yet I behold my desire,
For you as a dragonfly,
Mysterious and ancient,
A beautiful creature,
Existing almost as long,
As the sands of time,
Flying among the earth,
To be free.
Breathe me in,
Granting me the chance,
To enter your body,
Mind and soul,
Engrossing our spirits,
To complete the other,
Through gazing into,
The eyes of the other.
Cherish me,
As our lips encounter,
Passionately nibbling,
As they collide in portrayal,
Of our irrevocable love,
Tantalizingly sweet
As the Riesling rests,
Within my wine glass,
Tempting me to consume,
Pleasure through the delicious taste,
Awaiting for me.
Reminding me of the same reasons,
I crave you,
My beloved.
Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 3:00 AM UTC
If I asked you what you see in me
Would those rivers
Flow the same
A vessel for to hold the sea
Or a levee for to claim
Would you see walls you can absolve
A tree with no leaves
A riddle
No man could ever solve
Or a truth you can believe
Tell me true, what you can see
When your sky
Is not blue
A web interlacing what cannot be
Or one that ties my heart to you
Would you tell me you celebrate the jewel
You’ve found
For a kingdom of your own
Kept as a keystone
To create a harmonious sound
You cannot compose on your own
Oct 3, 2010
Oct 3, 2010 at 3:41 AM UTC
*Autumn adorns the universe,
Into a transitional seasonal display,
Preparing for a whimsical change,
Upon evergreen trees, in rouge and ember shades.
Lavishly, shedding slowly,
Into a fusion of tones, leaving embellishing grounds,
Bearing naked branches,
As they casually toss down.
Stroking their leaves, and sending colorful hues,
Like a genuine piece of tapestry,
Beautifully interlacing,
And harvesting, 'neath the suns abundance of energy.*
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 2:01 AM UTC
in a desert pegged to a
loadstar, whose sands try
to scrape free.
with a sound the wind
scarce believes could
empty it out.
only loincloth and limbs
move toward her...with
lips the sun has lingered on.
for all his moving, he takes
her face in his hands...
setting down his mouth's
word on her closed eyes.
eyelids raw with
interlacing quivers.
visions of water.
Jun 19, 2018
Jun 19, 2018 at 8:59 PM UTC
Pure tranquility amongst immense vulnerability
Embrace the placid pace as interlacing moments of divinity create a symmetrical vision of femininity and masculinity
Cultivating humility in unobtrusively exercising providential gifts
Ancient relations uncovered through self-refinement; revel in a realm of silence peculiarly deepening this divine assignment.
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 8:46 PM UTC
Sometimes,
I try to escape you.
Whether in my thoughts;
or in my day.
I have become spectacular at blocking out
the memories.
But sometimes,
I try to escape you.
When I see the curve of your cheek
lit in the soft moon light
and all I want to do is reach out and cup my hand on your face;
I try to escape you.
When I close my eyes with you right next to me;
and I dream of interlacing my fingers with yours,
my head on your chest.
When I can hear the actual sound of your heartbeat being imitated in my sleep;
and I wake up and wonder.. hope.. That I wasn't dreaming;
too afraid to ask in fear of being chastised for wanting you..
I try to escape you.
And in the morning, I prepare myself to go home.
Even though I know I'll miss you
and only think of you when I'm there.
But then you ask me to stay one more night
and I can't say no to your beautiful green eyes
or your bright smile.
I try to escape you.
But I can't.
My love.
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 12:50 AM UTC
Landscape silhouettes
pirouetted off
pockmark lights in the dark;
the city shivers
in its myths and windy whispers,
Just a subtle rumble 'neath his humble feet,
heart aflutter, stuttering
palpitation structure sputtering; the lightless rain
glanced across the window brackets
of the moving train.
Silence yawned across his vapid eyes
like labored lullaby sans interlacing rhyme device -
Home, the beckoning, fulfillment's underlying premise
calling off at every stop
'til seats bowed under weight of emptiness.
Friendless in the long stretch
between conductor's breath,
fresh with mints and benevolence,
punching tickets
with a lonely sickness...
Ah, fitful sleep awaits us
past the sliding doors
and walk to familiar shores,
horizons bleak,
and nothing more.
Locomotive groans
pervade the embers of the gloam
and glitter bright,
against the clutching fingers
of this woeful night.
Aug 4, 2011
Aug 4, 2011 at 7:38 PM UTC
Laying on my back on my bed alone
Fingers laced, hands over my forehead
Fans mechanical whirring, trying to soothe my ravaged mind
Replaying in my head, every word exchanged on the phone
Moonlit shadows pirouette across my walls
Smoothly and so gradually they become our shadow selfs
Our very own love story playing out like a movie shown
At an old time drvin-in, the screen so big you can't miss a thing
It shows our endless nights of talking, about all our hopes and fears
And how we nurtured our love and respect and how it's grown
The shadows played on, to show that first ****** kiss
Our lips interlacing for what seems to be a life time
Two bodies entangling, if you listen you can even hear the moan
Our shadow selfs now inseparable, the rest of our lifes spent together
Even as the shadows slip across the screen and age creeps in
It is the greatest love story I have ever seen, it's our story that the moonlit matinee sown
Feb 27, 2016
Feb 27, 2016 at 2:43 AM UTC
Breathe me,
So I may be the air,
To sustain you,
With a new exhilarating sensation,
For you have never met,
A beauty quite as fair.
May the inhales of breath,
Give you my tantalizing aroma,
To waft through your mind,
For all eternity as each exhale,
Entwines your spirit with mine,
Reaching a point of immense depth,
So pure and divine.
Time seems to freeze,
As Hazel eyes mirror my own,
Glancing up my form,
As you witness a treasure,
So grand and rare,
Engendering you to be bereft.
Of all senses,
Except for the feeling to stop and stare.
You speak the words,
Of an effable language,
In such a distinct dialect,
Only the key of your heart,
Opens the lock of my own,
Through those amorous words,
Only the beating of our hearts may decipher,
Even if fate leaves us worlds apart.
Fingers interlacing in an affectionate embrace,
As our hearts waltz in the stillness,
Of the night,
As I notice the sway of your hip,
Full of masculine grace,
Pressing your body against mine,
As you me so deliciously tight.
The moment I encountered you,
I reach the peak of the highest mountain,
Falling as I may,
You bestow me with the gift of insight,
Wrapped in a ribbon of trust,
Ever so bright;
A chance I have never been granted before,
So even if I slip,
Your love always keeps me,
From shattering upon the Valley floor.
Loving you is all you ask of me,
So forever I shall,
Until I no longer breathe,
Our cold bodies soon to be side by side,
Under an old willow tree.
Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 4:11 PM UTC
The orbs are comfortable
To lay within the glow
Rounding up and over the moon lit by
Nightly prayers from the children and the whispering ambitions of the aged
Will we ever fit in
Well, fit out of the confinements we dredge to make it all okay when the family cries
Each of us have all been strapped with Velcro from our Day 1 to fit standards
But does it mean anything..
For if we fall short, it hurts more than falling long
Why must we hurt and bleed and scrape against the bottom when we're trying our hardest
Age holds no value
When the interlacing branches of the forest
All look the same
Because we cannot dare differentiate ourselves
What it is to live "normal" and society's "regular"
Maybe we hide ourselves
under scars and lyrics, between role lists and bus seats
Maybe our orbs are colored neon, or maybe a lingering Oregon grey
So maybe, clicks and groups and minorities
And maybe even the "freaks"
Are all synonyms for "normal" and "regular"
So please, these orbs have become comfortable
Don't hang your head and hide one minute more.
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 12:58 AM UTC
*At one moment in time
she was poetry in motion,
'til she pirouetted herself
unto dusty shelves
midst old clouded rhymes
& recollected love notes
yet, there were echoes
glistening 'tween strands
of web's interlacing design,
meshing her finessed
past within gossamer's
complex entanglements
amid labyrinths of
ancient symphonies
she dances, still ~
silently in her head
flirting with destiny
albeit, not as grand*
Jul 18, 2015
Jul 18, 2015 at 8:05 AM UTC
You know what I've been fantasizing about around my projectory...besides some stimulating evening entertainment...I like the art of BellyDance. It's sensuous and extreme mastery of smooth kundalini up and around the body.
Yeah, right...I know.
No, but seriously, imagine man, our own Island. Yeah, our Own Island. The Crew would celebrate the SkyClad Moon around a wood fire, the tribal drum patterns interlacing trading Ecstasies of rhythm beat into our hearts coherent waves generating yes by us, through us, into the night's Enchanted Moon.
Oh she and her seductive powers moving tidal waves into the hours splash crash and receding just to come back for more. You Know What this is about you know what it stands for
yeah, and if we want to bring it into our human sexuality, mating powers, let's trade energies why not talk our bodies into majesty
~ see what happens• usually magic from my memory I like magic I like cosmic kinds of bliss in exchange for a mystical talk with God~ Lets work it out. Of man & ladies ...you know, all the crazies, no end to the amount of this kind of party. let's make the magic happen this doesn't have to stay imagination I know how it manifest and if you have questions come see we will figure out the rest ...
imagine
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 9:19 PM UTC
im sinking down
To a place where i hang out
when no ones around
where the birds fly, maybe soar
a memoir of yore
when i used to lay on the floor
and imagine an upside down world.
Where people jump in and out of doors
and balance on beams nd round the bend they twirl
Overdone masculinity rules this world but in mine it twas a girl
No sides were taken, no war, no fight. and she was black
History moves forward and you cannot take anything back
when i look back to back i tend to think we have two faces
the breath is being lost and we've all gone missing in our paces
I want to evolve my system but there is no racing
I want to speak and there is only facing
No missing, just placing
until our spirits are interlacing
towards one envisioned nation
Nov 11, 2019
Nov 11, 2019 at 12:14 PM UTC
Even a master welder
could not feat these bars
that wind and twirl
encasing, interlacing
your thoughts with the world
for all may be what never was so
where a smile once beamed
a soft glow, now resides
torn from the out, inside
feeling weakened and tried
because you tried and you tried
but your fire was put out
by eager firemen
with hoses that spewed
and skewed, the world you once knew
for things you could not understand
but you learned to understand
grew up and found you can
live without starting a fire
and live to aspire
to be
important
but when the town falls asleep
my thoughts slowly creep
back into my conscience
ready or not Im
ready
and something so small as
barefeet or chopsticks
become the most important things
at all
red lipstick and straw hats
a smile and a wave at
someone Ive never met
how good it can get
when i havent heard yet
what I need to know
the need to go
and learn on my own
miles of road
on an endless mind
that only interprets
what goes unfiltered
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 12:57 AM UTC
Left a nasty mark
Left side of my face.
Sparked inner disgrace
Embarked upon a new place
Where defaced faces are not remarked.
But in the dark, I got displaced.
This space was dead quieted.
No lark sung here, but hark!
A lone bark cried out. And then another and another.
Braced myself, as stark fear crept inside.
Out of the dark, the pack show their faces
And the race began - They chased me through the park
Traced me deeper in the woods. No hiding place seen
Lack of light, pitch black, trees attack, narrowly missing me.
Can't hack this, graceless at racing.
Face grazed by twigs, looked back at the pack, closing in
Quickened paced and - smack. I found the ground embracing me
Ending the chase as they arced around me
Surrounding me in the dark
My eyes glaced over, sparking more than fear
To enter my brain, all them interlacing together
Death's intamacy marked the end.
I prayed for a coup de grace
Just in case skies aren't empty
Jaws opened and crashed down on me.
Biting, chewing, tearing through me.
Eating raw meat, sweat as nector for them.
Brittle bones break and snap.
They drain my marrow leaving hollow bones.
I laughed.
I laughed louder and louder.
The unearthly sound echoed in the night.
The biting became more frantic, more panicked
Couldn't understand the drastic change.
My fears displaced into the dark of ether
I got up and shooked myself free.
They couldn't defaced me anymore than I am
Frightened by the bite though it's no harsher than the bark
And being frightened, I gave them power over me
Power to tightened my very being.
Misplaced my own proper power prove to be a mistake.
But now I know those shadows do not mark my end
The gallows can wait.
I disembarked from this dark park, leaving behind the barks.
Face still defaced, but with an ace up my sleeve.
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 8:38 AM UTC