"intrudes" poems
There is a forbidden pleasure in the poet's art
it's like having an illicit ****** liaison, is it not?
now it can be told, that's the way one felt
enticing while evasive, was her two way dance.
In the secret society meeting last full moon night
for the first time I came face to face
with the enigmatic girl, rumored to be the mistress
of the poet I admire, for his skills of allusion and veiled speech
she was so young and somnambulistic in appearance
her lips were so thin, the only remarkable thing
still in memory those pale lips remain,
how helpless we are in a world, curtained off
to keep our secrets in rooms of green darkness!
The poet was absent, but he was very much present by that,
as her shame intrudes when she starts conversations.I found him there.
The words whispered from her lips were not heard, however one tried
none listened to it, I bet, a poet's mistress is as curious
as an object of art, stolen from its rightful place, I suppose
When the boat returned to the island to take us back
we were the only passengers left, at last, how strange!
In turgid waters a fallen full moon like a snake swam
I was looking at its wriggle, creating a tragic geometry
that reminded me her thin lips, she sat next to me, motionless
her soft breathing, was rhythmic poetry I kept imagining,
till we parted exchanging a faint smile. her's was florescent.
Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 2:03 PM UTC
is like no other early morning, man reborn, in the delivery
room of sky blue, the offsetting water deeper bluish hue,
the trim-all-around of the mixed salad greens of the staff's
scrubs as they usher in unity, with no imp-unity, the risks,
while the supervisory sky, disperses cumulus clouds in
peppercorn patterns of white chains, or big wide solitary
brushstrokes on a a ****** canvas, gettin' the feel in the
palm of the heft of brush, the viscosity of the paint, the day's
palette reflecting available colors in order to create a uni~cued
original of what has been painted an uncountable times before,
and before…
tho short weighted, was the sleep of the prior night's restful,
he awakes to the early morning light, the sounds of early
island rouse him, even, arouse him, for the August chill
foretells of the early onset of memory loss of the peculiarities
of this summered simmering, human warming and baking
and natural braking of the slowing of the heart rate, to better
accommodate, nature's hints and hidden reminiscences
of the true purpose of the summer's intervention upon our
collective and unique bottling, our individualized containers,
un~lidded, uncovered, eager for the fuel of sunrays replenish-
ing the length of our lives by the elixir of the summer
it is a chill 63 Fahrenheit at this time of day as we crossover
to the nigh day, from the cooling air conditions of dark,
the occasional helicopter intrudes upon the morning's calm,
the water placid, the geese honking regarding my watchful
rewarding presence, a slew, a bevy, of female vocalists, to
ease this transitory performance unfolding, and though one
feels the existential of his solitary singularity, as he thinks,
nay believes, he is the only one in attendance at this ritualized
emergence, he takes in the cool of, the heat of, the admixture
of both, the clashing integers of each, and he, fully invigorated,
goes silent, for once more, he has uncovered new combinations of
old words to accept and describe a new day's creation, miracle of miraculous, defying the odds of this ventures's success, his own continuance on this sheltered but open all around island implanted tween two tines of land, as if all the surroundings were created just to protect this, wholly holy place…
7:00am
Silver Beach
Shelter Island
Aug 19 2025
Aug 19, 2025
Aug 19, 2025 at 8:00 AM UTC
she sat on a driftwood throne
at her feet lay the ruins of a stone man
her hair a wild world of winds draws you into her hurricane eyes
her lip a forest of meanings tender and soft
a single loose tear like a wild horse run free
she sat on a driftwood throne in all her glory
sun and salt water cadence to the living breathing dream
song of existence untainted
and now another song intrudes
one of loves lionhearted and bold
seafarer's son come of age
come seeking courtship of her soft hand
to be bound in the silken desire's both hot and sweet
and the dark ones such shy girl dare not speak
he brushes away the sand from her soft thigh
and within his mind romances such sweet
tender spot with a reign of kisses
but just then she arose graceful like the soft beatings of dove's wing
and emerging from the veil of his minds fanciful dreams
she laid before him her sandpaper eyes
so intense that summer sounds
like children at play and such soothing tones
could not hide her behind
he withdraws still no more than a child in her eyes
she desires a stronger, a true love
one that is not a fleeting fancy dream
one of a man who can speak his heart
the sand had invaded her driftwood throne
so into the dusk she sauntered slowly
with graceful flow
trailing his eyes behind her like glories of wishes
like worshiping doves
for such beauties perfection
he will return some day a man
once he has learned
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 3:09 PM UTC
Like a still small voice in an empty room,
The quiet nightmare of my lonely bed intrudes,
Remembering our togethers, now so far away,
Staring into the darkness at a hungry mosquito,
My endless hunger that only you can assuage,
His endless hunger a ****** angry morning itch
Absence makes the heart grow fonder methinks.
Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 9:36 AM UTC
Where do you put your arms
as the night swallows your bedroom?
Do they dangle over a rib cage,
warm and separate from you?
And is the rhythm of her breath,
Rising and falling unsteadily
Your favorite lullaby?
And where do you put your hair
as the morning sun intrudes?
Do you let it fall all down your back,
Or do you fasten it to your skull
Put on your glasses
And brew coffee to cut the
Nostalgic
Lingering
Scent of fall?
And where do your thoughts meet
When your mind races?
Is there a taste stuck on your tongue?
Or a conversation stuck in your head?
Do you breathe my name when
you can't find sleep?
I'd always kiss your eyelids
And rub your back...
Do you remember that
And do you miss me?
Do you ever miss me?
*Sometimes I miss you so deeply
I can feel your absence in my lungs*
Do you miss me at all?
Sep 15, 2013
Sep 15, 2013 at 8:42 AM UTC
my jewels bestowed onto me are hanging from my dead limbs like a noose,
but due to my inferior intellect, these delusional gods will bring me to hell's gates
for the world's stigma on my definition of jewels has a red stamp with
the words WARNING on it, my dull inane shadow cannot compare
to the hundreds suffering in the same recession i am, mouths are speaking
to me, but my ears aren't listening, like once the repeated record from you
plays, a sound proof room surrounds the vicinity and intrudes the space
between you and me, my body is not translucent, i was carved out of
marble but vines and weeds entangled my crevices and made me grotesque
this dystopia people are telling me about that i live in is a utopia to myself
i'm near the condition of declining into a whirlwind of nothing and i'm fine
with it, as long as Holden Caulfield catches me when I fall into the rye alone
- kra
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 5:16 AM UTC
I dream so nice,
So deep,
And then my mom intrudes,
'Arfah wakeup it's 1 pm.'
Sigh there goes my dream :(
Aug 19, 2015
Aug 19, 2015 at 4:21 AM UTC
.
*So the smoke coils
surrounding a stray thought
clinging to the vine
as it weaves threads
into a tapestry
of fermented grape wrath.
His pen crawls
across the pages of life
and ignores the punctuation,
a plague infected word flow,
his stream of catharsis.
But the babble
intrudes and sounds irk,
sending resentment forward
like an advance guard
to meet the violence
and deflect the onslaught.
And the wave dies
as the aggressor retreats
before motley defence.
But the mood
has been tainted, spoiled,
despite a flirtatious distraction.
And the flame flickers
as the smoke coils,
and tired eyes avert their gaze
from the perceived ***** page,
the excrement of misery
smeared to make nostrils flare,
and the entry is left
incomplete …*
© Pagan Paul (06/05/19)
May 7, 2019
May 7, 2019 at 5:00 AM UTC
As the shadows began lengthening
I slowly walked to the sea shore
Through the cobbled path
With stinging stones under my feet
And piles of golden clouds floating above
Enjoying the whistling of the wind through the reeds
Inhaling the saline air, smelling of rotting seaweeds
On the vast strand, I stood for long
Feeling the foamy fringes of water lapping at my feet
And sensing the sand slipping away under my feet
I watched the gentle undulating billows
Rolling their silver volumes
As if to die away on the happy shores
The sapphire waters and the roaring waves
The churning tides and the feathery foam
Made me wonder at the horror and beauty
That ****** dichotomy Nature carries within
I saw numerous fishes gambol beneath the waves
Do the finny herds that roam
The fathomless valleys of the Deep
Ever experience the tumult and scuffle
Of the roaring waters?
Oh! Never!
Like them, I too floated weightless
With all the barbed distractions drifting away
Wishing to get a pair of wings of the swallow flying high
To soar safely away from all gadflies who disturb
And cocooned in the inner citadel of my privacy
Enjoying a permeating peace, I had seldom known!
Then Byron’s words came floating to me
Mingling with the cadence of the waves
‘There is rapture in the lonely shores
There is society where none intrudes’
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 8:53 AM UTC
my day is naught but toil,
my night is naught but strife.
in my sleep i turn and toss
whilst a dream reflects my life.
why then does a smile chase these lips
and a twinkle tease these eyes?
are my furrowed brow and fists a-clenched
contentment in disguise?
Joy intrudes on every bitter moment;
joy heals wrathful thoughts and wounded ken;
joy thrusts forget on all my hurt
and joy gifts vigor to my pen.
O God, your chronic cheer may end,
see, your joy is hampered so.
your servant, i, will stretch it farther,
where it wills to break i cannot know.
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 12:58 PM UTC
O, mosaic of my oft marveled at Mosie
You fade away as swift as the windstorm enters
Mosaic, I've built you up in my mind's cubbies
And you permeate through my brain's centers
Every experience boiled itself into me
Constructing a picture of you that I could see
Which I could consult when I reached difficulty
Or whose answer I could envision in monotony
O, Mosaic, you quickly go, as hurt intrudes
The pain pervades all points of space
It destroys you and ceaselessly protrudes
Gone are the days when I'd see your face and caress it
Gone are the prayers we'd hold up our relationship and bless it
And now gone is your magnificent mosaic
Even though it pains me just to say it
O, Healing, come faster than your predecessor
May you permeate the place we made and become its successor
And, God, can You be real and continue to bless her?
As your mosaic fades away
Dreams of tomorrow thus can't stay
As your mosaic breathes its last breath
Let us exhale that last sigh
The one we always talked about before our death
This time, drifting further and farther apart
This time, holding our aching and breaking hearts
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 10:48 AM UTC
The knife feels kind of nice.
Despite the fact it intrudes,
Protrudes from a wounded back.
The price we pay, I guess,
Closeness never quite manifests.
But it's good to know, you know?
Those who feign familiarity
Friendships staged and put on show,
Critics acclaim, shamed curtains close.
Characters who grew into the role
Far fetched with hyperbole.
Lines they speak with finesse
Lies smooth the noose of regret.
Confused they peruse part two.
I think therefore I forget.
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 4:02 PM UTC
She sat astride the stool in silence
Watching how the mayflies flew,
Symmetry in chaos painting
Colour’s gentle strokes anew.
Felt the touch of evening breezes
catch the tendrils of her hair
Watching mayflies rise and fall
through symmetry, without a care.
Promise fills the moment’s magic
Hope is pounding through her breast,
Mayflies rise and fall in sunlight
Love’s anticipation best.
Scattered light intrudes through leafage
Casting sunspots in the shade,
Mayflies rise and fall in sunshine
Tranquil peace of mind is made.
Softly a guitar is strumming
Melding with the lakeside air,
Rendezvous with him a-coming
Mayflies rise to empty chair.
Mayflies rise and fall in sunshine
Rise and fall...and they don’t care.
Marshalg
‘Foxglove’ Taranaki
3 January 2013
Jan 10, 2013
Jan 10, 2013 at 10:08 PM UTC
All alone with no place to call home
A vagrant called The Wanderer roams
Destitute and resigned to his solitude
No one to miss him or care that he’s gone
Immortalized with the mark of Sloan
He thrives amongst forgotten gravestones
To restore their legacy is why he intrudes
For systemic erasure he believes society must atone
All alone with no place to call home
A vagrant called The Wanderer roams
Destitute and resigned to his solitude
No one to miss him or care that he’s gone
Empathy drives this misguided untomb
Generations of oppressors he seeks to dethrone
Reality remains an unfamiliar interlude
For to delusion The Wanderer is prone
All alone with no place to call home
A vagrant called The Wanderer roams
Destitute and resigned to his solitude
No one to miss him or care that he’s gone
All alone with no place to call home
A hero called The Wanderer roams
Complacent in his intrepid pursuit
Unfaltering ‘till the world sees glory of Arawn
Dec 6, 2018
Dec 6, 2018 at 8:50 AM UTC
A crinkle of newspaper
The simple sideways glance
And a half hidden grin.
A shyness that stops
And a hope that intrudes
The next stop is mine
But you're here to stay
What a question I'll ask
What if everything
All I wanted
Was simply waiting
One seat over.
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 3:26 AM UTC
Pretty eyes,
pretty smile,
pretty hands,
pretty ***
She handles
all those
compliments
fields all those
unwanted stares.
Some young guy
says something nice,
but when she doesn’t
acknowledge him
he calls her a
stuck up *****
Some one
grabs her ***
Someone
presses her up
against a wall.
Someone
raises her blouse.
Someone
intrudes
where he is
not meant to.
Now she is awkward.
Now she is uncomfortable,
Now she is untrusting.
Now she doesn’t
want to be beautiful.
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 12:27 PM UTC
The melodic entrance begins
I'm undone like a spell
Willingly bewitched
Indulge me
Please sing; no voice, no soul
Even those lost have something to offer
Silence intrudes upon removal
Everything's suddenly missing
As I wander the world
No meaning but what my ears are subject to
Play another and make it count
One wrong pick and I'm disrupted
Make it count.
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 3:17 AM UTC
Marriage is a sacred vow
an innate romantic chain
that bind the devotion
of the couple in love.
Yet along in the way
temptation intrudes
into the privacy
of marital romance.
Third party comes
alluring temptress
breaks the chord
of marital loyalty.
The partner is tempted
succumbs to carnal lust
drowns the emotioal bond
and kills the love to die.
Finally this may happen
in extra-marital affair
marriage will break-up
when the love is betrayed.
Aug 6, 2018
Aug 6, 2018 at 5:11 AM UTC
A touch of darkness
Gently lifts the veil of dawn.
I smile.
You are not there.
Take on the morning waltz,
Like ghosts ー drifting on;
Cycle of love,
Harrowing raptures.
Your scent, an acute absence
of apples, roses and sunlight,
Fills and intrudes and begs to consume
The remains of my rationality.
Dec 29, 2018
Dec 29, 2018 at 7:27 AM UTC
Caulk like chalk lines
Drawn on a brick wall
draws blocks together
like ionized particles;
and so the dust whips
up from the pavement,
onto the flat mast
of a tricolored flag
which rests in public space–
but not without movement,
but not without tension–
would fall without knots.
And so our good people,
held by conviction
prescribed by no doctor
swallow a large dose.
Fellow faces they crumple, yet
it’s poor taste to mention that,
and so the tongue is tied;
we speak not.
White cloth like chalk lines,
Red strips like bricks fall
Three-fourths down a half mast;
good people feel sad.
Hands over mouths breathe
through cracks in the radio feed,
like freckles on a sunburn bleed
when cancer starts to spread.
Good people see the bad
and so white faces turn red,
the tragic intrudes on public space
and yields nothing said;
With chalk drawn in broad lines
Knots in arteries tie,
And so I share in death
with all passers-by.
Chalk traces human shapes
—hollow forms on the street—
a dream in waking,
immutable quaking,
beneath a a flag where all colors meet.
Apr 29, 2018
Apr 29, 2018 at 5:02 PM UTC
The sunlight, like a mother’s touch,
lies gentle on the water’s face.
The last warm breath of summer past
Not ready yet to yield its place
And you and I walk, hand in hand,
Around the long and winding path
Past where fledging Mallards stand
And weeping willows sweep the earth.
From beyond the rushes comes
the soulful melody of a horn..
All else is still, no sound intrudes
upon the bassist and his song..
Above us Ninja squirrels fly
And bomb the path with acorn shells
If they should hit me do not laugh
Odds are that they’ll get you as well.
I’m glad we came to Oakland Lake,
To watch the waterfowl at play,
And have a quiet conversation
about a nearly perfect day.
Jan 10, 2012
Jan 10, 2012 at 10:36 PM UTC
Pour your pain into my mug.
Let it steep until it’s as bitter
as the red wine sipped by new lovers
or the coffee drank by the lonely man.
Let it steep until it’s too strong to taste.
Then let me sip it slowly
while my lips curl away in disgust.
Still, I’ll force it down ignoring
how tepid and foul
the taste of your pain coating
my throat might be.
I’ll breathe in the toxins,
allowing them to fill my insides with the wafting
vile stench of your struggles
until my head spins and my vision blurs.
Let me free you from your sorrow;
until it corrupts my heart,
intrudes my impenetrable armour,
eats me alive,
and rots me from the inside out.
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 9:35 PM UTC
You are still keeping heavy arms,
You did not stop explosive devastations,
The earth is clamings trials – not once,
Have troubled vital forces for whole nature,
United Nations orders been ignored,
Intrudes feeling free for invasions,
Increasing wars revising what agreed,
Incoming time inclining independence,
Indifference for all asleep,
Discourage poll possessions intentions,
Remaining backwards countrys in need,
Would left among nations in faceless,
Despite foggy announcements on stand,
Among the stars would shine the planet,
Don’t leave your children on the sand,
And face cold judgments for a wild,
Pretending for the future bright,
Its hard to watch hearts children crying,
Forgiveness doesn’t have a chance,
Missed way to all the human kind
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 3:44 PM UTC