"invigorated" poems
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
Waiting for the summer heat to eclipse the somber thread of one day, an old man is gifted a brand new pair of sneakers.
Father, Son, Holy Ghost? The pinnacle of the "y" axis has paralyzed the saltiness of the old man's overcoat.
"Grand dad?" A young boy turns the corner and peeks in while the old man leans over in his chair to reach his feet and lace his sneaks. "You were breathing loudly and I was just making sure you're okay."
The boy continued, "cool sneakers grandpa."
This reminded the boy of a new student in his class who moved here from Scotland, or Ireland - he couldn't remember which. Guess what the new kid in my class calls his sneakers?"
The grandfather looks up and leans back, "he doesn't call them sneakers?" "Nope" the boy replies. "I would imagine he must call them shoes, or something like that."
"Not even close. He calls them 'runners'. He came into class one day with a pair of red sneakers and Miss Kerrington had him stand up in front of class to talk about them. She said that people in England probably call them runners as a nickname for running shoes."
The old man stood up with a groan and said, "That makes sense. It seems a bit odd, but I like it. As a matter of fact, I am gonna start using that to refer to all sneakers. What do you say we go for a walk around the block so I can break these puppies in? We'll stop for some rootbeer on the way home."
The two of them set out on their walk and the old man felt invigorated. As they continued, a light rain began and the old man said, "lets get to the store, this rain'll do damage to my new suedes."
When they finally made it to the store, the old man rushed in the door pushing his grandson out of the way. Upon his entrance his eyes met with the shopkeeper's. The shopkeeper's eyes shifted to the young boy coming in behind the man. At this moment the grandfather realized that he pushed his grandson aside in his haste to get inside the store and out of the rain.
The shopkeeper turned his attention back to the grandfather who shrugged his shoulders before gesturing to his feet with a smile and said, "I'm breaking in a new pair of runners. They're not gonna dry off as easily as he does."
Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 1:59 PM UTC
Do I take you with me on this adventure I have been planning all my life?
On my journey I have dreamt of in math classes, late nights in bed,
and on lazy Sunday afternoons in the sun?
My plans for my adventure have never been static and have constantly changed over my few young years...
In my mind I have gone to Art school in Paris and backpacking through Morrocco and teaching in Costa Rica and done the Inca trail in Peru and spent time at a Kibbutz in Israel and volunteered in India and sailed all the Seven Seas...
Now as I stand on the presipice of my Epic Journey,
not afraid, but invigorated, I have a choice;
I can go alone; strong, fearless, ready to embrace the wolrd with arms wide open, wings spread and nothing and no one to hold me back from my dreams...
Or I can take you with me, share my adventure with you, and start a new journey that includes you?
We could make a path, you and I, through the world, where ever we choose to go, make our own adventure, new dicoveries... and have a very long journey together, and instead of worrying about old plans, make new memories.
Would you like to come with me on my adventure, my love?
Will you start a journey with me?
Jul 28, 2010
Jul 28, 2010 at 5:53 AM UTC
Up went the roar of the crowd,
Ascending, volumes above, beyond
The everyday murmur of pestering silence.
A futile struggle to withstand its force,
Like a vast wave, rogue and raging,
Slamming nature, a slap in the face of feebleness,
This crowd roars…
Not anger, not anguish, or grief,
But a prideful scream of declaration;
The masses make it known, and known again,
Fists raised, pulverizing the air to a beat
Of human design, of togetherness, of solidarity
In the fight for those like us, a howl,
This crowd roars…
Stampeding feet berate the beaten earth,
Invigorated legs supporting pounding hearts,
To a beat, rolling with the flow,
Energy infusing the soul, encased in flesh, bone, and blood;
Marching onward, forward, processional strides
Declaring and making it known with battle cries,
This crowd roars…
Shouts of proclamation echo the strident resistance
With thunder, earth-quaking, walls crumbling, chains shattering
With thunder, dancing against the discordant system;
Proud warriors raising flags of protest
Amidst the roar, roister, and riots, rising reactionaries
Refusing submission, declining resignation,
This crowd roars…
Bounded together, by blood, by common cause,
Mingling masses of forgotten arise with a vocal
Outcry, intense, pulsing from the core (of us)
Like an infestation, infuriated, a torrent swarm (of us)
Flowing upwards, eroding all obstructions.
Declare, proclaim, announce, request, demand,
This crowd roars…
Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 12:31 AM UTC
this old poet, one of the first, to see your wave,
when he was playing knick-knack paddy whack on his shoe,
the old poet then played two, and said,
yes, I will follow you
Please
imaging-imaging that old poet with a glanceable cursory,
a small smile whispered, with entourage of a nod and a wink,
stands, knowing he is in the delivery room, a witness,
to first steps of a babe starting a new life
marvelous miracle by touching a button, a new line written,
not crossed but connecting by pressing "Follow"
with a finger from a hand, a human fringe,
attached to a breathing mind and a thinking heart,
the first to follow you, a ceremonial gesture of
innovation magic incantation, a new moon blessing,
a living person believing, remembering, the longest ago,
his first own graceful acknowledgement and eyes speak,
yes, I will follow you
the new poet, astonished at this induction to the smallest
Hall of Fame that they alone own the only key, study that
number, that number 1, the first to follow, kinda looking over
their shoulder to make sure the old poet still there on the morrow,
sure enough there are now two, safe in the back pocket,
a tabulation of humans who speak volumes of trust, saying,
yes, I will follow you
the old poet, imaging-imaging the babe, dancing round
the room, invigorated, challenged and the faucets pouring,
can't write it down as fast as the trains arriving disgorging,
words unique in new combinations and the rush of blood
from heart to head to those newly literary fingers bleeding
happy creatures of creation as if they are Noah
setting sail to save us with verbs and adjectives
two by two all for now species unheard of
the old poet wants to send cautionary notes, the path strewn
with frustrations of no inspiration ditches and inescapable cliches
that sound fresh but just aren't, the disappearing satisfaction,
the inability to get it just perfect, and so many obstacles
to be prophesied,
but he does not, these things must be self taught,
today let it suffice the initiation, the first crowning of
**yes, I will follow you
for this the way of the poet
10/16/17 5:09pm**
Oct 16, 2017
Oct 16, 2017 at 5:22 PM UTC
.
*The sensual caress
twilight mist impearled flesh
alighting a feral desire
within blossoming spring petals
The newness of uncovered skin
a sweetness on unsated lips ,
the taste of passion and salty *******
with hastened breath
sighs do brush with warm ****** breeze
across my naked chest
wild feathers sweeten
tender touch
... emanating
sensual awakenings
Arousing buried desires
unable to hold back
constant cravings
the inevitable currents
pummeling shameless floodgates
with arising untamed springtides swell
Fleshly enslaved yen --
energy sprouts tingling sensations
nascent buds blossoming deeply
flourishing exploding flames
bursting flush
... deliciously white hot
In an unstoppable carnal moment
passion betides
like the surging sea ;
Rising and falling crescendos
unleashed waves crashing ,
drowning in the rhythmic undertow
interlaced bodies heaving adrift in the moment
like entangled seaweeds
in a riptide
as the rolling thunder storm
dances across invigorated tides
with a surging cadence of cresting waves bloom
caught in the Rhythm and the Sea*
✩ ✩ ☼ ✩ ✩
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 8:23 PM UTC
Cleans the filth off a persons hair
Off their Bodies
From their hands
Cleans the swears from your mouth
A bitter recognizable sent
The scent of early morning
Clean Fresh New
With this my senses burn
Like these past few years are being wiped clean
All of a sudden I feel fresh
Invigorated
From the scathing hot water
The endless scrubbing
Of my raw flesh
Now no one can see my mess
They cannot tell where I have been
A fresh start
The one I have been hunting for for ages
There are still some scars left to explain
But with time those fade as well
I have found peace with myself
He is my soap
I'll never forget that smell
Apr 5, 2010
Apr 5, 2010 at 8:48 AM UTC
1211
A Sparrow took a Slice of Twig
And thought it very nice
I think, because his empty Plate
Was handed Nature twice—
Invigorated, waded
In all the deepest Sky
Until his little Figure
Was forfeited away—
2.2k
I am invigorated by the exterior
of a soul.
Warm silk wraps around
my aching flesh.
No crevice of my neglected body
goes unexplored.
It is impossible to communicate
how much I desire somebody's,
anybody's,
touch.
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 4:50 PM UTC
She faded into the oblivious shadows of night,
The mardi-gras converted from dawn to daylight.
Where she danced elegantly in ballroom raves
She etched her body to the rhythm flowing in waves.
Her hunger was lustful in her eternally gazing eyes,
She kept her secrets beneath beauty's seductive gaze,
But when heart beats drowned out the soulful harmony
Penetrating eyes hummed on gullible minds uncertainty.
Her burgundy lips etched on life's needing of lustful kisses,
Eager thoughts on this chardonnay on lips it glistened.
Drained off needing, she rested them peacefully in death
Never noticing until departed that they are exempt of breath.
Invigorated she released the energy of life on the dancefloor
Day descended into nights embrace, so she left out the backdoor,
Upon the streets she smiled at the masks hiding her secrets
When an invite did fall in to her hands, her next feed on a leaflet.
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 3:13 PM UTC
Little sapling growing between a rock and a hard place.
Weathering what life is surrounding you. No friends of yet
but you are only a sapling give it time. Moments passing
watching scenery elope to shifting seasons beauties.
Sea air invigorating as rain trickled from above dancing on
your now maturing leaves, tickling as each one weaved its
way down, like teardrops they descended on there journey
of life carrying on.
The Cliffside sighs, and teardrops of rocks descend,
woeful of those this motion that swept away, beauty
that clung silently there. The sapling is of branches
and leaves giving needed shelter to tired wings.
Seasons whisper by as the sun and moon dance above
her gaze. Roots delicately weave deeply into the Cliffside
keeping here steady, for if it were to sigh again her fate
steadfast in this place between a rock and a hard place.
Her leaves happened upon a blossom, so delicate in
its serenade of colour against the harsh rock face.
Like a parent when winds were bleak shielding its
frailty with branch and leaves, it only lost a petal this time.
She flowered in the seasons, blossom invigorated the
surroundings of what was bleak, like teardrops of love
for a time they painted vivid etchings on the Cliffside
till they faded nourishing those of lesser stature.
As she yawned on the morning rising above the
horizon, she felt motions upon her leaves.
Never in her time had she felt such gentle touches,
as palms glided over her foliage.
Feeling the breeze from up high, the cliffs edge she
had flourished in growth, now little eyes saw her
in full blossom as the seasons had changed.
Laughter ensued when gusts eloped with blossom.
Pink and light shades of magenta danced between
children, a fence keeping wondering thoughts safe
from the fallen dreams at the bottom of the Cliffside.
Leaves caressed the winds and she was content.
Apr 21, 2017
Apr 21, 2017 at 8:06 AM UTC
I am under the sun’s dust-specked rays
With the low mumbles of a nearby river flowing into my ears
My brain bathes in it’s cool water
The pitter-patter of energetic drips hopping in and out of their prism
Becomes the only sound that occupies my head
Leaves,
Brown
Gold
Holey
Deep
Crunch crunch crunching
Dirt like magnetic attraction clasp to
My boots
My pants
My hair
The sky
Empty
Unoccupied by nothing but the birds that fly in it
Deep breaths of wind proud and tenacious caress my eager face
And it gets dark and the sky swirls and contorts
Screaming out it’s agony and frustration
Over another dying day
It assaults my eyes with it’s canvas
Melted oranges, cascading reds, opaque violets
Illuminating all it looks over
With the glow of it’s ferocity
The scent of pine needles and bark seep into my weary lungs
And I am invigorated with a burst of life
I’ll laugh and let the cold air cap my teeth
And grab my naked eyes
And shake me and shake me and shake me until
I can’t take it
And I cry from it’s frozen clutch
And I laugh and my face is as red as the burnt burgundy leaves that cushion the bottom of my boots
And all
I can hear
Are the echos
Of my solitude
And the toads
Croaking
And
My skin
Warms
And my
Heartbeats
And
My brain
Is silenced
And my eyes close
When I open them I see nothing but my ceiling
And I look forward and my TV is staring at me
With the look of nefariousness it always has
Frantic, desperate, delirious
I grab at my skin
And I
Am
Cold
Nov 3, 2011
Nov 3, 2011 at 11:07 AM UTC
In this society
of souls from the millennium
Invigorated by validation
Drugged only skin-deep
With toxic actions and words
And prices ruling like
A silver-spoon-fed princess
The value of an individual
Plunges deep into the depths
Of the shallowest mirror-like pools
I can only sigh
As I sit in this new class
Alongside new faces
And the absence of the professor
I think of refunding my expensive tuition fee
When I pay my utmost attention
To everything around me
Jan 17, 2018
Jan 17, 2018 at 5:54 AM UTC
It was belongs to Rajmao.
She used come with her group of assistant,
Walk around on the bank in the morning.
Some time,
Sit on the bank and
observed the water.
When it is sand still,
She said, ‘ it is not a good sign, nature is dynamic and changing’,
When the big tortoise came over the bank and sit,
She said, ‘ god send him to observed us’,
When fishes run and jump in the water,
She said, ‘they remind us joy of struggle, continuity for future’!
She used to offer a pair of Betelnut leaf with a Betelnut to the water and
Pray, make everyone gracious, prudent and human to served for betterment of all.
Then she goes into the water and
deep into it , twice or thrice
to washed away all the pompous sticks on her heart and soul,
acquire lots of endurance and audacity to taking care for all.
That was a time,
When Rajmao came,
Everything elated by her touch and care,
Grasses grows with vigour,
Lotus in the water smiles with esteem,
Grasshopper dances around her with adore,
Standing Bamboo spread up their umbrella
To protect her from Sunshine with admiration and worship!
When she came
Everything was invigorated and stimulating!
Now only water is there
Full with stains of our time
and it is step forward for turn down!
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 2:23 AM UTC
You need sunglasses when your staring at me
Cause the light I emanate scars the retina of my enemies
There is no cure for the blindness you will endure
A pain perpetuated by the ignorance so perniciously procured
Squared against an inevitable death I easily steal your breath from the barrel of my Smith and Wess
Watching your hollow tears bleed on the canvas I project
a cataclysmic disaster wrapped up in a dismal death
We sit here at the pinnacle of our lives speaking in shadows
Masking our mouths from what we oblige
Stop and listen to the earth as it decries
The subtle architecture of this worldly demise
So as we kick back and sorely reside
I’ll be the change in the coming tide
Caged inside tortured flesh I search for rest to keep the human condition suppressed
But all I find each time that I design a new quest I become a servant of death
Invigorated by the test I stretch my consciousness to tear the limbs off your chest and beat you senseless
I won’t stop there, I’ll slit the throat leaving you without hope and then drown it in Everclear
While I may seem like a cynic
I’m not through with these gimmicks
Lacerating your heart with the bones I striped from your tendons
I’m not an advocate of violence but
Sometimes the pilot of peace needs to be reached by setting loose the destruction we inherently seek
We sit here at the pinnacle of our lives speaking in shadows
Masking our mouths from what we oblige
Stop and listen to the earth as it decries
The subtle architecture of this worldly demise
And I’ll hide my words with silence
And I’ll no longer become violent
Just another subservient machine lost in a sea of tyrants
I won’t be blunt here I’ll keep dropping metaphorical bombs onto your ears
Until all my peers understand the imminent plan that needs to be adhered:
Stop short cause change is impossible to purport
Don’t dream cause it’ll get shattered with a corporate hammer
Stay sinking in a world that raises a stagnant banner
Assimilate with the overzealous overweight materialism that manifests in the minds of the poor and is perpetuated by strip malls and ******
Mar 20, 2010
Mar 20, 2010 at 7:21 PM UTC
I am equally as invigorated
By the temperance
Of modern convenience
And the dominance of nature
As I am terrified
Of total dependence
Of modern man
On everything electric
Jul 24, 2013
Jul 24, 2013 at 6:20 PM UTC
Ambulance chased harsh tragedy.
Took the young man home
Beep beep, crash.
Paddles without a boat.
Asystole.. gone gone gone.
Cadaver gave donation.
Thank you.
Bless his holy soul.
Pray may he rest in peace.
The diseased heart of the sad man beats.
Hammers a struggle every day.
Called in.
In a mighty dash.
Prepared for transplantation.
Of this wonderful donation.
Once alive cadaver renewed.
Invigorated.
Life lacking quality.
Was given quantity.
Once deceased heart beats on in another.
Released to live and breathe again.
Was much too young to die.
Four chambers full with emotion blooming.
The heart transplanted was that of a lover.
A poet.
The beating heart beat at a ton.
The battle won.
A tad too fast, but built to last.
The worthless one with no value.
Picked up a pen to write.
Poems of power flowed to the sea.
Up the mountains over the trees.
Strange enthusiasm.
Never before felt.
The hard cold man began to melt.
The victim of tragedy.
Left legacy.
Wholly unexpected.
The once was poet.
Renewed his heart.
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 7:38 AM UTC
the air outside was cold
the air inside lingered with the sweet smell of sweat and raw skin
the bed was consumed and the sheets were tossed
it's 3am and although it seems that time stands still when they're together, the snow still falls and the wind whispers secrets like he whispers in her ear 'i love you'
it's tomorrow but it still feels like the day she knew she loved him
it's 6am and he rolls over to see her bare back
fingertips to skin, lips to skin
he knows she loves when he kisses the back of her neck and runs his fingers down her body, top to bottom
naked but not vulnerable
and although so simple, she's aroused and he's invigorated and they're both in love
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 10:28 PM UTC
Bubbly hell
makes me tired every time I drink.
Rips apart my joints with sugary satisfaction.
Still I am invigorated with your flavor,
and want to chase you through
lemon tree orchards
that will only ever make me more thirsty
and want to drink of
my lemon lyme disease.
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 10:38 PM UTC
feel...released.
They cannot lock you in their box,
They cannot sterilize your mind,
and only you and a guest can get in.
You will arrive,
You can stay,
You hold my set of keys,
Let me convince you
I will try to lift you up, when he lets you down.
We can
Right now.
You can share your insanity.
I will always listen, seldom speak
You can be your own liberator
They can't quite grasp, what makes me, you.
It diminishes,
this locomotive of doubt
No longer in unwilling *******
I seeps into the seams,,
and flows down from above.
to take you to a feeling....Invigorated
Fulfilled, and relieved,
that their eyes can see you, for you,
and not who even the slaves, dread to be.
You shall never be bound unwillingly
Every key I own, I give to you
Snap the chains they have slipped on your mind.
Aug 23, 2012
Aug 23, 2012 at 3:23 PM UTC
I am discovering what it means
To be who I am.
Who I am,
Unapologetically.
I am discovering what it means
To feel truly alive
Without the weight of the world
To drown me.
I am discovering the feeling
Of no longer missing those who are gone.
To not feel the burden of longing,
In my bones.
It has been immensely hard to forget.
Their images embedded in me,
I've felt small for a long time.
A long time.
You move on,
But something stays.
Now I am living presently,
And doing something with myself.
And for once,
I am not afraid of missing you.
Any of you.
Your thought has been a terrible burden.
You've made me believe I cannot be happy
Until I find another you.
Or even worse,
That I never will.
Because I was not good enough.
And I will only ever continue to never be good enough,
For anyone I choose to love.
Because that is Who I am
Not Enough.
I must imagine,
Anyone who has experienced a true breakup
Has felt this inferiority within themselves.
But God, I am alive.
With my soul,
I know my purpose is to love.
And to continue to love.
I will remember,
That we all have flaws.
I may not be flawless,
But I am human.
And as every human is,
I am doing my best.
I am working hard, working hard to be a lovely human being,
Despite my flaws.
And so with love in my heart,
A pure will in my soul,
With a dire will to make my mark in life,
I am here. Today.
Unapologetically.
And this love, My love,
Is enough.
For it is all my soul, and all of my passion.
It is my strength, and my breath.
It is my literal life energy, in every cell of my being and it reminds me that I am alive.
This love puts the stars in my sky.
My love makes my world a magical place.
And I know,
I am not alone.
If my love is worth anything,
Then others will be invigorated
By my soul's burning light.
Through love, and generosity.
Patience, and understanding.
Through compromise, and forgiveness.
Others will know of my love.
In life, despite my flaws and my blemishes,
I choose love.
For it is in beautiful, innocent, and pure love that I know.
I am enough.
And I will not be weighed down,
By my past.
I am enough,
Because I chose love.
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 2:24 PM UTC
Coffee, like the breeze in the sun.
My lashes, like butterflies flutter,
Wet with water from the first splash.
Invigorated, exhilarated and refreshed,
The mist on my morning eyes, dispelled.
I wear no makeup,
Because I am here. I am alive.
And I am doing what makes me feel good.
Beautiful is how I feel.
Inspite of the morning breath.
I hold the warm cup,
The heat of the cup warming my frosty hands,
My senses steal the divine aroma,
Steam rises in swirls, lines and shapes.
Becoming lost in the air.
Black coffee, brown sugar and beige cream.
This is art, at its finest.
Oh! The little things in life,
That make life worthwhile.
Nov 22, 2010
Nov 22, 2010 at 1:08 AM UTC
Licking sweat- salty human essence.
Stinging; the drought consumes the lips,
The tongue, the throat.
The mind is invigorated by the burn.
Saliva coat consumed by the elements-
Grain sand, now salt.
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 10:16 PM UTC
In an evening,
Washed with love,
Writing,
Tranquility and thunder in one afternoon,
Like fresh laundry,
Clean,
Newly refreshed,
Invigorated
New life's lease!
Raring and excitable,
As wild child plays,
Wallowing,
In styles novel!
Provoked into action,
While arrows fly,
Origami swans created,
Folded wings tinged with pastel tints,
Dripped from loves pipette!
A miracle constructed,
From twisted paper,
Origami swan can't fly,
Unless caught on gentle breeze,
Gentle breeze,
Brings allergens sneeze!
Captured in sunlight's mesh,
Studied through patterns from a picture book,
Designed with child in mind!
COPYRIGHT LIVVI KENT 27/05/2013,
Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 3:24 AM UTC