"interplay" poems
‘I am…’ 'Or am I’? Who can say?
‘A posteriori’ leads the way
For the extra and the ordinary
Axiomatic sway,
In the gravity of corollary,
‘A priori’ interplay
Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation,
As the innocence of dissonance delay.
Practicing semantic contemplation,
In willfully prevenient interpolation,
Civilly disobedient in expediently seeming disarray,
Forecasts in vague extrapolation
Contrasts the millennial contagion
Already underway,
Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves,
To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves,
A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves,
Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves,
Inflating linguistics in acrobatic raves,
A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves.
The probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates,
An apperceived inquirer of qualitative states,
Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates.
Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates,
Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates,
Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates.
An escaped prisoner from depressive disillusion,
Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion,
The personable recluse fighting an illusion
Breaking down the nuances of every institution.
Calculating consequence as time goes to infinity
Revolutionary commonsense of principal utility,
An opinionated adversary,
to the realist without evidence,
Theorizing in futility,
Stipulating every sense leading to the virility of the pretense that dominates community.
Divergently converging all the efforts we’ve personified,
Inadvertently submerging old traditions that unethically were codified,
Hastening the urgency for purging that which cannot be modified through the merging of the certainty that will no longer coincide,
Stationing the levies to finally stem the tide,
Of periodic enmities disguised to be necessities so blatantly deified.
Observing moral sentiments, perched upon eternity,
As consequential regiments are expounded universally,
To unstratify the residents indiscriminately
And identify quantum elements spiritualistically,
Changing collective behavior individually,
Socializing constructs in joint ventured logo therapy.
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 8:07 AM UTC
Focus on the Positive
but do not shun Negative.
Respect the Negative
by way of Positive reflection.
And, indeed, vice versa;
as if some twisted cosmic joke,
yin and yang shall interplay
e'ermore, ad infinitum.
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 8:20 PM UTC
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
Boundless energy around us,
Stretched to snare the senses.
Shaped and bound to our life-force.
No barriers, or defenses.
Limitless interplay, front
row seats shall we say.
To astounding cosmic displays.
Consider what a day holds;~
Glimpses of magnificence
In the eyes of the beholder,
Fear not insignificance.
Take grip of your awareness
Exchanging energy,
Is inherent in us.
Throw a love curve ball. . .
Await your reciprocating shower.
those stars, they fall
forever.
They deal not in glamour.
Casually causing us
humans to stutter and mumble.
Let not, your heart labor,
Loves home-run rests
Patiently,
On your minds table.
Prana for everything,
This **** ain't no fable.
Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 8:31 PM UTC
*As a designer,
I have always been fascinated by the interplay
between people and objects of design.
The responses change over the years,
and with this in mind, my collections
become tangible reflections
of my own journey,
as a woman to this day.*
/ Alexandra Mor
Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 1:20 PM UTC
Shade giving Sentinels
Custodians of the environment
Infusing oxygenated life
Extending canopies of bliss!
A fine interplay of synthesising solar photons
Food factories to the plant
Self sustainable gifts from the Almighty God!
Bemoan Human apathy
Fragile relations with humankind
Exponential signs of human induced Ecocide!
Oh Humankind!
Oh Humankind!
Wake up to a Nature’s clarion call
Embrace Mother Earths Sentinels
Tree Huggers of the World
Unite in Unison and Eco harmony
Save Trees!
Save Trees!
Cherish God’s Nature
Permeate Environmental Euphony
Demolish reckless Infrastructural Cacophony !!!
Biospherically Yours Forever 🙏🏻
@Nitin Raikar
Sep 6, 2020
Sep 6, 2020 at 2:31 PM UTC
How I look at the world each day
Is a curious interplay
Of fire and earth, cadent and fixed,
And often my impressions are mixed.
The world entices me from the cocoon
Of my Leo Sun and my Taurus Moon.
How I shine and how I feel…
To find a balance would be ideal.
The goal, of course, is to do what's right;
The nuances are ever so slight.
It's just a matter of being in tune
With my Leo Sun and my Taurus Moon.
Although I'm more complex than this,
Their strong influence is hard to miss.
Understanding who I am
Partly comes from the diagram
Of what occurs when they commune--
My Leo Sun and my Taurus Moon.
It isn't just as simple as that--
My Sun and Moon both having a chat.
It might make me ill at ease
To ignore the many intricacies
Of aspecting planets. Never jejune
Are my Leo Sun and my Taurus Moon.
Add my Rising Sign and see
How other people look at me.
Virgo adds more earth to tame
And somewhat soften my Leo flame.
There's no reason to ever impugn
My Leo Sun and my Taurus Moon.
Finding answers within and without
Helps to dispel the burden of doubt.
Tools to study the self abound;
What we discover can be profound.
Knowledge of self comes never too soon
With my Leo Sun and my Taurus Moon.
-by Bob B (4-19-22)
Apr 19, 2022
Apr 19, 2022 at 11:44 AM UTC
Pretence to be what you are not
Compounds the very way,
You spout the cause and issuance
Of guilt in interplay.
The moments carved from honesty
Cause sweat to run between
The shoulder blades of conscience
And beads of guilt to gleam.
Gut squirms in apprehension,
Those averted, eyes do coax
A riot of indecision
And shrill nervousness to broach.
Sweating brow is glistening
There’s a tremor in the fist,
Wide, dancing eyes unsteady
And a reluctance to resist.
A perfunctory bark of laughter
Occasionally forced between the teeth
And a loosening of the bowels
Betrays a quivering beneath.
These symptoms to the practiced eye
All unveil the hidden truth,
That surreptitiousness in it’s starkest form
Shall reveal you as ....uncouth.
Marshalg
Victoria Park tunnel
11 November 2010
Nov 10, 2010
Nov 10, 2010 at 4:40 PM UTC
...Here a man stands accused--the pellucid jury
of his peers come to themselves in their life's arms
through him.
He wails upright...a shadow continent wedging
The Flood.
Timekeeping horseflies besmirch his chest cavity
with due kisses...par for par movements consume
time till the singular advocacy of he withstood.
The imperturbable essence captured itself, as so
at the height of its powers there's interplay.
Ease culled from tribulation...countenance slackened
by degrees...overwhelmed by awareness.
Kingdom come Kingdom--shoring space of grace
that is freedom.
As if Everything centering of itself, fawning over itself...
polar opposites in conjugal bliss.
Here a man stands accused...of being--fit for steely
juxtaposition...the murderous implement of will, or
salvation.
Envision him post-Flood, waist-deep, the living Face
of the Deep...look upon him!
Timekeeping horseflies besmirching his chest cavity
with due kisses...par for par movements consuming
time till the Singular advocacy of thee...look upon
him!
An encounter of pitless ramification: fear or love...be
it the last man upon the earth.
Look upon him--O jury of his peers boasting billions...
pellucid unto one another...look...The Hour is radiant!
Won't thee come to thine life's arms through him?
For he is Everyman.
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 11:25 AM UTC
She stands where autumn wind and lake collide,
its whispers trace her curves in soft ballet.
Her blouse pressed tight, it frames her quaking frame.
A moan escapes; the love that she must abide,
as hair veils trembling lips that long to stay.
The wild wind plays, yet stirs a deeper flame.
Wind howls, her skirt rises, her heart inside,
its breath explores secrets bared to foreplay.
Her chest revealed, she shivers, soft and tame.
She opens wide, her body greets the skies,
Waves repeat, with rhythm's gentle interplay.
The wind recedes; she calls her fleeting name.
Her arms enfold the ache she cannot flee,
a whispered ghost of love she cannot see.
Nov 15, 2024
Nov 15, 2024 at 11:24 AM UTC
Stone Love : A Building Named ‘Linearity’.
Unobserved I lay my hand on your limestone wall and feel the rough surface as my fingertips touch the stone slabs and junctures of your construction…
Gently pressing my cheek against your sunlight- warmed, stony skin.
Veiled in concealment, just you and me, right here….
Being with you, so near to me…
No one else but you and me.
In this very special love affair we share together.
Your comforting presence, so mild and so compassionate….
Gazing at the elegance of your architecture with its majestic interplay of razorsharp outline patterns in a merciless contrast with the soft spindrift twilight clouds in all serenity above us….and I feel so protected….
Staring at your powerful black silhouette as it rises up into the sundown skies….
Mesmerized by the grace of golden sunray reflections stunningly glistening, dazzlingly shimmering in your numerous windowpanes as the sun sets unhurriedly, while the mauve, lavender and scarlet clouds make the perfect composition for our undetected wonderful moment….
Oh, ‘Linearity’,…
Your stone wall feels so warm when I think about the coldness of people.
Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 7:09 PM UTC
Logos enters not
in matters of the Mythic,
yet they copulate.
Mythos is a realm
wholly separate from Logos
yet they interplay,
This dynamic play
in a mythicly tuned mind;
akin to wisdom.
Mythos and Logos
dancing cosmically onward
as if Yin and Yang.
To shun one and cling
zealously to the other
is tantamount to
fearing Death until
the day it's icy finger
points itself at you:
You miss out on all
the wondrous things in this life;
Enjoy here and now.
Apr 30, 2013
Apr 30, 2013 at 9:02 PM UTC
The Natural World is not so benevolent.
Though, I don't mean that it is malevolent,
but with things like Disease, Entropy and Radiation,
I would say that the odds certainly are not in our Favour.
Yet, here we are.
An act of sheer Defiance
to an otherwise inanimate Reality.
A Being of Reason, Creativity, Interpretation, Intuition and Consciousness
observing the cold assumed lifelessness of the Crystallization of this Epoch of Energy.
I speak not of the benevolent and malevolent Energies
which perhaps permeate and flow through this Reality,
but those, to me, don't necessarily qualify as "Natural" in this sense;
they are super-natural, para-natural, or hyper-natural. Pre-natural, even.
I speak of tangible, scientific, here-and-now "Reality"; whatever that means.
Matter and the Energies we know of that are subsets of it.
Gravity, Electromagnetism, the Strong and Weak Nuclear forces.
This Physical Prison of Godself; like a physical Dream
from which One cannot awaken until Death.
Perhaps not even then? Who knows?
Who are we, who yet live, to say?
Maybe it's a case-by-case basis;
but, in any case, I digress:
The Natural World is a Force to be reckoned with;
it holds the Powers of Sustenance as well as Annihilation
yet we so take it for granted and **** pillage and plunder it evermore systematically
That's just bad form.
Conciser Reverence
though not religiously so;
merely giving Thanks to
the Forces which sustain us.
Respecting
the Forces which sustain us.
Earth. Sun. Water. Air. The interplay of these things.
The Plants that give themselves to us as nutrients
as well as the Animals that do the same.
The fact that you have a left and a right Brain. A Body and Mind.
That the Sun rises each Day and you're born anew with it in ways.
If we truly give Thanks
for all of these things and more,
our perspectives will enlighten a bit,
and Reality will become wholly Holy;
Holistic:
and we can finally begin, again,
to move on.
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 12:12 PM UTC
the fire
of desire
in each step
staccato
movements
making
many a sparking flint
a close
held twirl
fervent
the grasp
the guitar
is at fever pitch
strumming
a flammable chord
the couple
engaging
in a hot dance
powerful the ardor
which they display
a sensual love
in the tango's
interplay
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 8:10 PM UTC
(from "To: Mimi Romanelli"
~indebted to suggestion of
https://hellopoetry.com/MacGM/
for filling me up one of the trillions of missing datapoints
in my slowly diminishing insights & missing knowledges
<>
"I am happy, Dear, to have walked with steady faith on the waters of our uncertainty all the way to that island which is your heart and where pain blossoms. Finally: happy."
from the poem by Rilke
"To: Mimi Romanelli"
see notes
'~~~'
so worthy of my/our attentions,
his reflections on loss, grief and mortality,
for in the natural course of this poet's story,
the interplay of this shopping list of preoccupations,
foremost on this temporal frontal lobe in these waning days
of my perhaps, last summery summary,
that falls upon your eyes with
my guilt that you have clicked upon
this e~pistle, in and un~
tentionally & tensionally
thus demanding & tendering post-haste
my apology
so be advised, be learned, and query why
an essay on ending mortality should be
be finished with a concluding a
"Finally: happy."
by breaching this poet Rilke essay,
one discovers
this poet sees through the storms of his preoccupations,
"the red of his blood,"
because he loves
another human, being,
so many would agree,
yet so few are so certain,
as Rilke,
and yet,
"*It is still always that death which continues inside of me, which works in me, which transforms my heart, which deepens the red of my blood, which weighs down the life that had been ours so that it may become a bittersweet drop coursing through my veins and penetrating everything, and which ought to be mine forever.
And while I am completely engulfed in my sadness, I am happy to sense that you exist,
Beautiful. I am happy to have flung myself
without fear into your beauty just as a bird flings itself into space. I am happy, Dear, to have walked with steady faith on the waters of our uncertainty all the way to that island which is your heart and where pain blossoms.*
Finally: happy."
<>
Writ the last week of August,
and the first of September
2025
Sep 2, 2025
Sep 2, 2025 at 12:49 PM UTC
Twenty strolls by the canal
out without followers
,pleasant by night
walk slow and around
fast thoughts
changing fireflies with the mouth
while angst wallows out with the wind
by the shore sifting every other passer this way
who never wanted life beyond a couple years
,except
we all just have dreams
and mine
are all eyes to Moloch now
for he streams dark giants
and quiet interplay with water-lights
and I am brought to tears
If I could...for every *******
misfit, and geek
chasing trains past bedtime
and seeing green in society’s streets
just tapping steps in the dirt
who cared none
about father’s scrutiny,
who worried less
confronted in the night
with all ceaseless
horror and inviting fear
Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 5:22 PM UTC
T-Together they'll create a lovely moon
W-Wonderful is their adoration's boon
O-Oneness of love this pair shall festoon
H-Harmonic shall they be together
E-Exquisite of a meshing love tether
A-Abiding in all kinds of weather
R- Resplendently matching with other
T-Tenderness their eternal soft feather
S-Special the song of amity's heather
B-Bounty and plenty e'er they'll possess
E-Elated this pair in joyous congress
A-Always to be in the realms of fullness
T-Twined by braids to true loveliness
I-Infinite the land of affection's prettiness
N-Naught shall blight their gleefulness
G-Glories shared in a bower of sweetness
A-Aligned in all that they say and do
S-Sublime the narrative of these two
O-Of love's serenade they'll endlessly play
N-Nicely coalescing in each and every way
E-Ecstatic this their devotional interplay
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 6:29 PM UTC
All our senses concatenate, building on each other
<>
this interplay is truly interplanetary,
for each of us a unique solar system,
our brains,
intricacy literally personified,
and our five senses, working
in
concatenation
our long range sensors, busy bees compiling inputs
by the nanosecond second, distilling, integrating.
blending and then reconstructing…into a whole!
*a gentle breeze ruffles the hair,
the tree swing rises and flows
of its own accord, no passported
passenger required, and a neighbor’s
American Flag, moves majestically &
impressively, whipping, dancing, yes, prancing
to a tune only it can hear,
the syncopated air currents providing
a rhythmic awesome inspiring beat…*
and the brain takes this all in, a momentary
second of a vista that is constantly flexing,
yet remains unchanged, a muscular view
of a real world, living but yet immutable,
and I utter thanks to my motor functions,
that bless me with the eyes to perceive,
the nostrils to smell sea salt flavored air,
the hearing ears that the know the imperceptible
orchestrations of silences by their absence
and their intrusion, and I touch my fingertips
to my tongue, wetted, and hyper sensitized
to that gentle breeze that decorates the
landscapes external,
*and the combinatory
addition of the all of it, into a single momentary
poem of recall, what I “knew” yesterday, & will
greet again this coming day, as an old unfamiliar
friend, who grasps me entire, and proclaims:
this is living…and the greatest satisfaction that
a speck of mortal can achieve, retain and
through impoverished words…share*
4:14am
Mon Jul 22
2 0 2 4
Jul 22, 2024
Jul 22, 2024 at 4:25 AM UTC
He unlocks the door & opens the space
Where words romp back & forth
Spontaneous & limber like frolicking children
Silently witnessing this interplay
The myriad combinations of combinations
Weaving, looping, effortlessly flowing
Easily mingling sonorous and dissonant melodies
He almost listens, not dictating
Not controlling or manipulating
Turning a deaf ear to the ego's urging
He lingers in this hard earned realm
Enjoying the dance as long as he can
Returning revived, refreshed, restored
Reveling in the power of his powerlessness
He gently yields to it
And joyfully succumbs to himself
Jul 25, 2013
Jul 25, 2013 at 12:15 PM UTC
she stood naked neath the cascading waterfall
a bush walker espied her from the track
he was enthralled by her pert *******
they almost were saying we need caressing
he made him self known to her
by saying isn't it a lovely day
she replied it certainly is
why not join me in the waterfall's spray
he disrobed on a bolder rock
and swam to where she stood
then they imbibed
in some physical interplay
the atmosphere
they created neath the waterfall
was truly pleasurable
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 6:20 PM UTC
Each passing time my will to create with words depart from my impulse,
The drive and want and passion lost by crippled sense of inner flames.
Do you see the dreams blurr the skies of blue to grey,
As crimson and hues of purple interplay in the celestrial plain.
From the time of land parted from the skies zenith ago
And further more the time garden of Eden let Lilith go!
It's a place of Queens and Kings with wings,
while ladies and maiden play among the swings.
With stone and lands with rocks shaped into castle,
All those creation crumbled to dust to ashes blown by the wind.
Such illustration created by sleeping illusion eludes interpretation,
As time elapse our minds will shut to collaspe with no variables.
As the strand of hair turn black to white with forgotten songs,
One can lose all of their imagination and can only surrender to sleep.
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 11:06 PM UTC
To the joy
We dance, we jest and joust
The complex interplay of two
Souls recognising selfness
Seeing the edges fit
To the sorrow
This memory fades, surely, swiftly
A conversation half remembered
The realisation that ..
I can't recall your voice
To the sweetness
A softly remembered moment
The curve of a finger
Tracing line across memory
To the senses
That I can't feel those arms
Lightly, a tear traces a path
I feel it slide down my cheek
Then unseen weight grips
To the Anger
Against moments expectation unmet
When the collision occurs
And unwanted words come forth
The rage unchecked
To the self
The clash of the ego and id
tripartite vying for casual dominion
Eros and Thanatos war
Action dictated by thought
To the internal
The experience of
A lucid world of love
of longing, of joy
And it's counterpart; sadness
As I remember that I will
Never see you again
We will never speak
You will not know
How much you are missed
To friendship
To the joy of finding each other
To the gift of you, selflessly given
To the kindness
To both sides of a being
To the present
To Finding ways to exist Sans those who've faded
Always to persevere
The interlocking of past and now
Always seeing and remembering the essence of their being
Just breathe
To the heart
No words exist for this journey
From innocence to sorrow
And back
But when led with..
Nothing is insurmountable
Mar 9, 2017
Mar 9, 2017 at 12:27 PM UTC
My hand rests here upon this blank form
the pen nuzzled, cozy and warm between index and thumb
and I but await, the form that it should bear
The little para-sail of thought that swiftly entails
By draft of conscious reason the play, the lines
That shall stem and grow upon this paper.
Sometimes, I am not here at all
It's like a vagrant character takes hold this form
and drifts the banks of faded memories to etch but theirs to mine
Till ink flows like a non stopping spicket, pouring out
Soon digested to the whole phenomena I lay blank
Like pagess upon which the words desire to embrace.
Little child like figures wave between the interplay
This game of margins and thought, marbles clutter
where the revenue of the flow but draws
Upon these hopscotch and I caught the weasels
momentum springs but it's eternal sight
to peer over and across the facade of time
And jots a line or two of verse.
Here, Aye here is the bereavement of the writer
who's image fades to the mighty word
and pounds ever so deeply the elemental cries
That reason holds no power here.
I chuckle at the notion that ever befalls
some faded harmony of a promised bliss
that vanishes amidst the shadows of night
To leave but it's haunting cry.
There I peer down the lane of the centuries
Those famous writers and scribes of literature's ghosts
That forever within our minds haunt us to the passion of a word
And leave us but whole and naked to the deliverance of truth.
I wonder how their pens but scribbled
How they filled their own inconsistencies and ravished the thought.
Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 19, 2011
Mar 19, 2011 at 8:21 PM UTC
Leaven, Part One
Transfigured from within, though I don’t know
The moment when the sponge infused the dough.
It must have happened, though, because I see
The end result, as different as can be
From flattened lump I mixed not long ago.
Exposure to the yeast began, first slow
‘Til I divided and commenced to throw
And knead each piece, and then to watch all three
Transfigured from within.
Was it the pounding, shaping, every blow
I worked into each batch that made it grow?
Or was it just the presence or degree
Of leaven in my pastry that was key
To making lifeless mass now overflow--
Transfigured from within.
Leaven, Part Two
Transfigured from within, this lump of clay
But not because I made myself obey.
Instead, the difference that I see outside
Came when that kingdom started to reside
Inside my soul, as I believed the Way.
I cannot tell you minute, hour, or day
When leaven from Above suffused to stay.
I only know that I’ve been modified,
Transfigured from within.
Was it the pounding pain that made me pray?
The kneading, shaping, Holy interplay?
Or was it just the presence, amplified,
Of Word expanding where my old man died?
This loaf, when proofed, those workings will display:
Transfigured from within.
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 7:33 PM UTC
the first time we make love
*your body will tremble, from behind, my arms’ will, to encase,
I, sponging up every tremor, shush-stealing each shuddering,
the outpouring of sounds will grow softly and steadying,
as gasps slow lessened, till the breathing is regularized.*
you will sly ask for words, but I will come prepared and you,
will laugh when so informed, happy by my thoughtfulness,
wondering if they are being reused, and knowing this, I will
coax you to feed me morsels will I shall then embellish, proofs*.
there is a first time in almost every aspect, but for one, which
you won’t refuse, forgiving my experiences, a history to become
now partly yours, the priors paying forward my debt to serve,
a gentling interplay of eyelashes ********* fingertip confessions*.
you will alternate tween fragility, regretful solitude, emptied but
then refilled, you’ll want to define, identify, label for storage and
reuse, classification for acceptance, thinking that will make this
moment lasting, but it won’t, but it will, last, under closed eyes*.
when the need to sob returns, one or two may escape, unelicited,
but won’t go past that, you’ll hear me saying “Hello in there, hello,”^
and ten thousand skin cells will in unison firm gel a single sensory,
not a trick or strategy, an honor bestowed, medaled, molten medaled*.
that you were held captive, it will be a proud mark, for freedom only
comes from being released, and an anthem will start to form, words
all raw and wholly yours, then you will sing to me “good bye stranger,”^^ granting me a pardon, for being who I am, a wonderingly, somewhat familiar face...*
Sep 6, 2020
Sep 6, 2020 at 3:16 PM UTC