"interlocking" poems
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"And then one day you came back home
You were a creature all in rapture
You had the key to your soul
And you did open that day you came back to the garden
The olden summer breeze was blowin' on your face
The light of God was shinin' on your countenance divine
And you were a violet colour as you
Sat beside your father and your mother in the garden
The summer breeze was blowin' on your face
Within your violet you treasure your summery words
And as the shiver from my neck down to my spine
Ignited me in daylight and nature in the garden"
In the Garden,
song by by Van Morrison
<>
***This touches me deep in the chest cavity,
the palpitations of its internalizing echoing cavitations,
a warning, go slow, choose your words wise and
accrue, the mood,
for the ache of creating, hurts, fevers me
for I am but steps away from the garden,
and its violet hues infused with fresh sunrising golden hazes,
with kindly warmth, with warming kindnesses,
touches,
caresses my shoulders, begs me to stop crying,
overcome, for I am overcome, eyes dropping wetting droplets,
for find myself at the intersection,
interlocking crossroads
where perfect perfection
begins and must
meet its natural endings
thoughts of capture, retentions, preservations,
all impossibilities, challenges,
see me, begging itinerant
muses
in the neighborhood
to guide my hand, teach me newsome words,
mine feel so old, so unworthy of this moment,
hearing me solicit their
Treasure of Summery
Words
but they won't,
excusing themselves,
that this in particular human has exercised, exorcised,
all the tools in his ever diminishing capacity,
time insufficient to learn a new calculus of
addition
and bid me calm my heaving chest,
seize my tears, just add them to the brackish salted waters steps
awaiting away
live in this moment
live within this poem,
revisit it frequent,
weep no more,
your stilling heart weakened,
take fast what is given now,
and be contented,
your treasury chest is full,
overflowing with this summary of
summery***
but I am not, cannot…
7:48:am
jul 22
Jul 22, 2025
Jul 22, 2025 at 8:03 AM UTC
by
rgpage
naked this night on soft satin sheets
his arm ‘round her shoulders, his lover’s head rests
her hair fills his nostrils with a scented bouquet
as fingers explore love’s affectionate quest.
tenderly lips touch in a loving lead
legs interlocking add to the play.
arms then wrap tightly pulling each other in
their hearts beating faster to join in the fray.
her ******* he kisses a sensuous gift,
she feels his love grow with each loving turn.
the curve of her back feels his fondling stroke
to capture this feeling forever they yearn.
his senses now heightened, his love at the ready
to soon to the feast, the more he will miss.
he must gain control and reign himself steady
for her love, her beauty, and her freely offered bliss.
their heart guided souls in lustful play
to their senses’ delivered a bountiful tray.
their love and youth play this night away,
‘til the dawn’s early light brings in a new day.
their lips now swollen, bruised, and red
hearts full of love, love’s watershed.
the fast night’s hours have swept past their bed
‘til night ties are severed with the sun in their stead.
as that night flew by so have the years,
his only love has since passed away.
he turns out the light perched next to the chair,
and off to bed slowly ending his day.
their children all gone one by one they’ve all grown,
occasionally stopping by w/ little time to spare.
w/ families and jobs and homes of their own
making the time to show that they care.
even though she’s gone he’s still not alone
he talks to her daily when he is at rest.
even though she’s gone good memories he keeps
God holds the others, and he kept the best…
Dec 3, 2011
Dec 3, 2011 at 3:12 AM UTC
Call it a good marriage -
For no one ever questioned
Her warmth, his masculinity,
Their interlocking views;
Except one stray graphologist
Who frowned in speculation
At her h's and her s's,
His p's and w's.
Though few would still subscribe
To the monogamic axiom
That strife below the hip-bones
Need not estrange the heart,
Call it a good marriage:
More drew those two together,
Despite a lack of children,
Than pulled them apart.
Call it a good marriage:
They never fought in public,
They acted circumspectly
And faced the world with pride;
Thus the hazards of their love-bed
Were none of our ****** business -
Till as jurymen we sat on
Two deaths by suicide.
6.9k
Lying beneath trees in the heat of the day cannot possibly be compared to any other pastime: to watch the light toy with the leaves, shining bright and brighter in the ever-changing gaps in the leaves turned dark by the shadow. The interplay between the light and the leaves in ever-ongoing banter and they hate to quit their game when the sun moves too far beneath the horizon for the light to reach above the boughs and must return to its source. The wind plays a part in the sport as well, when it rustles the leaves and causes a sparkle in the variance of illumination. Tortoiseshell patterns scatter along your limbs and features and tumble off the cliffs of your sides into the grass you recline on. The filter of light casts playful interlocking patterns of light and dark impossible to decode without the proper encryption, forever lasting while the world speeds past their lazy game.
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 11:39 PM UTC
don’t tell me “I love you” ~by Roxanne, for Cyrano~
<>
that’s a verse I’ve heard many too times before,
that’s a curse of low majesty, a quatrain too plain,
if that’s your best sally, retreat, say no more,
too simp verses, or ungolden silences, agents of dissatisfying pain
I need the best of your taste
the finest visions that you eyelids occlude,
make haste for my mouth grows exceedingly
impatient for the other senses to do their tandem wooing
slap only my face with the creature comforts others savor,
words of diamonds and pink pearls mined from your breast,
the bejeweled words that will decorate my evergreen,
that never dies, lest, unless and until,
you want my mortal affection suppressed
give me your linguistic promiscuity, wake me from the stupor
of ordinary, arouse me with thy tongue coiling, a bee sting delivery,
a wet poem that makes all my orifices!|offices weep, your mouth,
my souls recouper,
your wizardry bewitching,
answer my inquiry with unbounded festivity
then and after all, the plain simplicity of an “I love you,”
will be edged with sublimity, my mercies, your mercies
our jointed, sharp pointy, introverting, interlocking,
*our futures becoming
our pasts*
11:07am
19-9-30
<>
https://thenewgroup.org/production/cyrano/?gclid=Cj0KCQjwz8bsBRC6ARIsAEyNnvoENpdnWyqeUEwq0avNStgWCf4CocB1i239c2mHdNSFF8gOlWZtfjsaAls4EALw_wcB
Oct 10, 2019
Oct 10, 2019 at 11:35 AM UTC
Her eyes shine like undisturbed dew drops
hovering at the gentle fingertips of young moss
on the northern bark of a white cedar tree
under a lazy morning sun.
Spear points of obsidian pierce the disc:
banished from the core of a volcano
scorched by a molten heart
and choking on onyx soot.
The dawn warmth filters through,
carried by a serene and wafting breeze.
It illuminates the pleasant, tickling greenery,
bringing to light the depth of her irises.
Fire belches from the mountain's stomach,
and the flame ignites a gleam.
Her gemstone eyes shine
as though the embers have been captured within.
At the base, there is the earth:
firm and dark and cool.
Interlocking underbrush layers fawn with chestnut
overtaken but not undermined by powerful streaking tree trunks.
The rim is built of force and rumbles with strength.
A cast of bronze is seething and glowing.
Her intensity blazes as sun spots
deep within ancient amber.
She is as her eyes are
an indigo inferno:
seldom
and
elegantly alive.
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 3:07 AM UTC
Cramping legds their crying
Like the babes, lying
In their mothers' arms
What are the charms
Which parents ensnare
Like poisonous air
Be witched to reproduce
Nature's silent truce
Though you die you can live
Vicariously and give
What makes you, you
To another imbue
The train halts brakes squealing
Interlocking carriages feeling
Each other and the air
Signal lights stare
And the track opens up before us
Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 7:04 AM UTC
my hands
only distance a
few centimetres
from yours
so
why does it feel
like i
have to stretch
a thousand miles
just to
clutch your hand in
mine?
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 2:27 PM UTC
don't understand me. this is not for you. It's for you.
my Gemini shin splints are pirates. hopeless Romans, romantically dismantling
the things you Undo. the things you You.
I Doctor in your Seuss canal.
with a frontal lobe, more Job
than a postage stamp -
in this Day and Age.
It's grey and rage -
with the tooth torn
out !
Out
through the probable snout
of the next mummified god-king
of our interlocking rot...
our chamber pots
spotting the oft begot good
of our evil
Mummenschanz
we are crepes' rue; yet we roulette best
in Typhoons
from murk
placid.
with 2.8 kids
and damp
matches.
we are
struck in a gale
of flaccid
dumb as a Belle of the Ball
that Squares
a Rube
with an Ism.... from Ix.
sometimes.
May 2, 2013
May 2, 2013 at 8:38 PM UTC
i fall asleep in the a.m. hours with my necklace holding my veins together, tight enough to remind me of your fingers interlocking in the very same place.
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 5:40 PM UTC
Skirting the river road, (my forenoon walk, my rest)
Skyward in air a sudden muffled sound, the dalliance of the eagles,
The rushing amorous contact high in space together,
The clinching interlocking claws, a living, fierce, gyrating wheel,
Four beating wings, two beaks, a swirling mass tight grappling,
In tumbling turning clustering loops, straight downward falling,
’Till o’er the river pois’d, the twain yet one, a moment’s lull,
A motionless still balance in the air, then parting, talons loosing,
Upward again on slow-firm pinions slanting, their separate diverse flight,
She hers, he his, pursuing.
2.8k
you are like black magic,
a hidden lip underneath a night of grace; underneath the canopy
of old soul trees, stretching out above
to protect hearts from being
hurt;
but you,
you are like black magic
and cheeky lick kisses under ****** blankets.
you were a secret
you were a shame
you were a dose of mortifying pleasure;
a sore amount; a quarter of a cup; a batch of chocolate chip cookies
with just one egg,
splenda, not sugar,
tofu, not meat,
never enough;
but I’m a sucker for vegetarianism and anything
orthorexic – I’ve compared you
to my biggest demon
too often; so I should really know that
you’re toxic –
I dance alone
with my eyes closed
and you’re there; step step, close.
your fingers slide into the gaps between mine
and now we’re interlocking,
like a devil on my back;
I move with you; dancing to your heartbeat
step step step, hold me close
and never let me go
-- oh please let me go
-- oh maybe I should let go.
We’re Getting Older,
the lyrics in the song I am listening to
tell me;
but I feel young under your gaze
a time machine; taking me back to a year ago
in the winter
in the cold
under the open, black sky
because the trees are broken and little in the winter,
leafless,
and don’t have enough life in them
to protect my heart
from being hurt
(by you).
oh you,
you are like black magic,
and I am like a baby lioness,
proud and easily tamed.
Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 12:28 AM UTC
Squishy fated
Topography
Meant to puzzle
Together,
the nexus of
Interlocking
limbs--
pulsing and
pumping.
The conductive
catalyst
the dazed hazy
Swooning--
I bite my lip
and you start to
give in,
I won't tell you no--
take a hit
to the bed
grabbing sheets
*******
air past teeth
no thoughts
just breathe...
or don't.
Choke
on the nexus
of firing synapses
the electric relapses
into shivers and moans--
****
I need
to
feel you.
Your skin
lingers in
the shivers--
in the wake
of the day
my body
Remembering
that you
aren't there
and it aches.
Please--
Lead me there,
Take
Me
Please,
Let me
bathe in
your twilight.
Feb 6, 2025
Feb 6, 2025 at 9:20 AM UTC
Perhaps in some ancient Greek
philosophers' dream
we danced quadruped
clumsy and complete
interlocking narcissism
as celestial bodies skirt
the curvature of the earth
In some drag queen Diva's dream
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 11:07 AM UTC
an anomaly
few roots are many roots of the same tree
from outside I am within the bark that encloses me
here ye here ye! polygonal me
mocking you an apology
all a'Riddle first due to the very nature
my skin my leaf
contradictory, the roots they twist on me
the vines of me
the veins of me
my pain you cannot see
my pain you cannot see
double vision two no three
four or infinity to a varying degree
my body tis' of thee, tangled up insanity
of thee I sing
***** from my fathers side
egg from my mothers side
brain and heart formaldehyde
let my moods swing
polygonal me an anomaly
normally unnatural
and artificially indeed
through means of fabrication
and good malicious deed
confiscatory generous
and metaphorically my breed
sarcastically scholastic
institutionalized branches
from the end to my seed
divinely soulless
constrictedly free
interestingly boring
grammatical greed
desperately selfish
slowly with speed
movingly static
hungry to feed
constantly moving
polygonal anomaly
how many sides
to a coin always flipping
to a coin always spinning
polygonal me
transparency
just
like
a
tree
there are many sides to a story
through shadows cannot see
the interlocking counterparts
elbows, knees, branches on trees.
who says they can't get along?
I say they have to disagree.
why can't they just let it be?
why don't you be you?...
and me be me me me me.
Just like a tree
whistling and singing
chirping with glee
waking me up at 6:30
though shadows cannot see
an anomaly sometimes
they play tricks on me
polygonal me
Jun 15, 2012
Jun 15, 2012 at 3:10 AM UTC
lovely, these pages I sew
for sadness I know not to tamper with like a joke -
a sick joke that people find amusing.
I do not find that kind of joke, or you to be amusing.
I clasp my hands tightly together, interlocking knuckles
and sit very still while the company is antsy to inspect
me for any weakness.
(I am always assuming everyone is out to judge me so rashly)
I am straining my back and the very moment I slouch,
I will fall into the pit of self-irritability,
yelling at myself because my bones persist on frangibility.
God! am I ever good enough?!
(I am always judging myself so rashly)
I want to buy myself a cottage near a swamp, hoarding
the repugnant slime near my fireplace cozied up reading a book.
you may trespass; I am willing to share this (hell) with you
if you wish to get so close to me.
I do though, (at my best) suffice
lingering around buying myself something nice (you could put it)
when I'm aggravated, I tend not to listen
not even to my own advice.
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 8:39 AM UTC
There's trauma interlocking my genetics
Stripped of specifics boiled into one
My own blood stained with my ancestors' rapes
23% White in my DNA sickens my bones
How much of it was forced upon my people
My great great and further back peoples
How many mothers thighs ripped apart to give birth to the innocent child of white devils
To be beaten by the white she-devil for "enticing" her man
For the child- if lighter- it be favored but enslaved in the home- near that very room they were criminally conceived
How many young Black men taken and ***** to be emasculated and sedated to work passively upon the plantation
Take a wife- to have her taken to masters room
Have a daughter- son- and the pattern roll on
How many white people and non-black people believe Black peoples to be inherently ****** to this **** day
These are the origins
If White people ignore my claims
Then you- white man- woman- person
You are just as guilty as the slave owners
Just born centuries too late for free labor
You must pity this of yourself too
To ignore Black peoples cries is to be complacent in our mistreatment
To not listen is to feel we were deserving of our suffering
To have happily whipped and beaten your fellow man if born back then
To support U.S. military veterans and be empathizing of their trauma
While rolling eyes to when Black people don't trust police, the government, or all White people of high status
Invented- created- controlled- plagued by White people
Because of 300+ years of trauma has brazed us with forced submission
To ignore the intergenerational neglect of treatment among Black people
Makes you a slave master on a cold December in 1865 missing your slaves just born modern day
May 13, 2019
May 13, 2019 at 3:02 PM UTC
met my maker
*not for the first time,
two acquaintances periodical,
two boon craftsmen, artisansals,
bs-gab-talking about who is surely
the better poet, glinting, side-splitting,
raucous laughter in our dueling self-mockery*
*neither takes the other too serious,
but of each other, we take endless,
never satisfied, insufficient, each needier
for the rapper inside and repartee, adoring
our jiving unique camaraderie, all-the-while,
knowing our balance unequal, but not caring*
*for as equals we meet, to revel and reflect,
revealing things of each other that only we
know, meant not for sharing ever, for these
webbed strands binding, at same time, release,
permitting a tough honesty tally, truth not a concept,
unnecessary, for how could we ever hide our love mutuel*
*we sitting bestride and beside, in ye old, weather-beat-down
chairs Adirondack, having come hewn from trees centuries old,
now overlooking the Bay, we eyeing a solitary fisherman whom,
we both knowingly aware, metaphor for that day that will come
to collect me away to a new locale, where we will yet still needle
each other, with mercy unforgiving, not for our misdeeds, for never*
is forgivenessasked for or given, not taboo, but
holy unnecessary for such is the way the between the
designer and the artifact, the poet and the poem, the craft
and the object, gardener and her fruits, a cellular understanding
that comprehends the interlocking necessity of our natures, that our
shared endings, are a duelity, both finale and gateway to our next poem!
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/462537/how-i-observed-the-day-of-atonement/
Jun 30, 2023
Jun 30, 2023 at 7:46 AM UTC
I want
a quiet mind.
A slice of space time
carved out, specifically mine.
I lost and found fullness in the void.
The promise of isolated existence,
of a transcendent world where I forget.
Of matter absorbing, swallowing, expanding and
delivering me the gift of nothing and something
together, motionless silenced in a simultaneous moment of
hush.
Still, the universe goes ever on and on.
There is power in the invisible.
The interlocking dualities of push and pull
only felt and shared, not seen.
There are forces binding us in the black abyss
which separate and join in tense dances
through made-up minutes which bend endlessly.
What is real?
Is a vacuum really empty?
I find comfort in the nothing,
that is also everything.
Feb 25, 2019
Feb 25, 2019 at 10:58 PM UTC
laying in the dark; you hovering above me-
watching, waiting, breathing,
just feeling.
your heat and your touch, electrifying.
craving you.
every breath a shudder;
every touch brings chills.
interlocking tightly together,
tangled and lost in the other.
just loving.
Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 5:55 PM UTC
My feelings, swirling about,
Interlocking, changing, altering;
Certainty forever distant.
I contemplate, wondering what they imply.
Yet, I am left to wonder,
What my feelings are telling me.
Sep 13, 2011
Sep 13, 2011 at 3:26 PM UTC
Tiny interlocking mechanisms working together to create a beautiful thing.
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 11:59 AM UTC
Layer by layer, I unravel love
And see the interlocking of eyes with passion
Inhale the scent of romance, of you
Feel the intertwining and gripping of hands
Taste the sweetness of your breath
Hear the sound of my heart beating
In rhythm with yours
In the climatic union
Of two souls
Jul 8, 2016
Jul 8, 2016 at 11:06 AM UTC
When lying upside down I see the whole world hanging on a silver cloud
Stare at it long enough it begins to become right side up
Roots grow towards greater heights with no end to their soaring flights
They reach for the stars interlocking with earths loving arms
Making a perfect way to lead us to life’s golden gate
Opening our souls pouring wisdom into our minds’ empty holes
Rekindling us once again to be one with the universe, moon, and sun
Oct 30, 2012
Oct 30, 2012 at 2:01 PM UTC
Dreaming
Dreaming about you
Dreaming about us
Dreaming about what it would be like to be with you
Wishing I could stay asleep
Dreaming about our lips touching
Dreaming about our hands interlocking
Dreaming about you holding me close
Dreaming about you never letting go
Wishing not to wake up
Dreaming about looking up into your eyes
Dreaming about you looking into mine
Dreaming about your shy smile
Dreaming about the way your voice sounds when you say my name
Wishing to sleep forever
Dreaming about the way you make me laugh
Dreaming about your laugh
Dreaming about our conversations
Dreaming about everything
Wishing not to wake up
Wishing this was more than just a dream
I am awake
I am no longer dreaming
No longer dreaming of you
Wishing I was dreaming of you
Wishing this wasn’t just a dream
Jan 27, 2019
Jan 27, 2019 at 12:42 AM UTC