"irrepressible" poems
☾
*I wish I were the Moon
Bequeathing an enchanting night
A mystical celestial sphere
Bewitching lover’s hearts
A practical magic spell
C a s t
In a lonely hollow shell
An ardent musical echo ―
Released in an irrepressible
Impassioned moan
A twilight sigh
escaping in untamed
Blissful breath
A Sky without Moonbeams
Is like a world without song
It takes a certain darkness
To heed a Sky full of Stars alone
I wish I were Moonstruck
A fate I crave to behold
Waxing and Waning
Rising ― Changing
A distant ocean’s ebbing tide
A captivating enchantment
In the twilight beauty
Of your eyes
Dreaming of drowning
Deep within
Their deepest water’s Wild
I don't want to wake up
and become ―
More fading
Barefoot traces left behind
On some faded memory's
Deserted shore
Right now is all
There ever is ―
and
I wish I were
The Moon tonight*
Jesse Stillwater ... May 2018
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 3:28 PM UTC
FROM the time of the early radishes
To the time of the standing corn
Sleepy Henry Hackerman hoes.
There are laws in the village against weeds.
The law says a **** is wrong and shall be killed.
The weeds say life is a white and lovely thing
And the weeds come on and on in irrepressible regiments.
Sleepy Henry Hackerman hoes; and the village law uttering a ban on weeds is unchangeable law.
11.9k
Like a toddler taking maiden steps
The narrow stream moves through the woods
Tripping and falling over pebbles and boulders
Chiming its silver anklets
Forcing itself in irrepressible flow
It thrusts and shoves its way down
Through thickets and a line of ferns
And the tangle of creepers and thorny brambles
Drowning the whisper of bamboo leaves
Its sweet murmur falls in my ears
As an eternal living melody
The cosmic song heard over eons
As the water sluices down the rocks
It becomes a frothing braided torrent
Producing a harsh grating roar
Like the crescendo of a tribal symphony
There it forms into a small pool
With its waves gently rippling
Where birds merrily come to take a dip
And sunning their feathers, fly back refreshed
Sometimes travelling unseen
It suddenly emerges into the open
Cutting its way through cracks and fissures
Never willing to surrender before hurdles
With a bearing immaculate in grace
It sends out waves of pure delight
What joy it is to watch the dilly dally
Of this sedate pilgrim moving to its destination
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 10:07 AM UTC
I need to read love poetry
For the same reason monks read bibles
the irrepressible need to believe
That love exists
That love is omnipresent, omniscient, all powerful
That it is eternal
For someone somewhere, at least
The emptier I feel, the more I read
Let me believe
Someone kisses
Crusty eye-lids in perfect bliss
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 5:20 AM UTC
we say we're the land of the free and home of the brave
yet thousands of people are still trafficked as slaves
they say ignorance is bliss and maybe it's so
but the world will never change if you never know
join with me in prayer on their behalf as we fight
for darkness to be penetrated with irrepressible light
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 8:42 PM UTC
As lovers we've learned
that you are the immovable object,
and I the irrepressible force,
though our ****** subduction truly terrifies the natives,
and has spun much aboriginal lore,
they credit us with Monsooning the weather,
but looking back, my dear, see the adorable mountains we've made.
Jan 29, 2011
Jan 29, 2011 at 8:04 AM UTC
a storm rages outside
sky, overcast with clouds
fearful sounds echo through
the mountain crannies
like that of shrieking bats in flight
trees shiver under wind’s might
everything around
presages an impending doom
the least pressure would suffice
to let all the hellfire loose
sitting in my dim lit room
with all the windows shut
unable to drown the emptiness
afloat in irrepressible buoyancy
I glance over the balance sheet
of my life
all sweet memories gone
shaking their mane
like horses galloping away
bitter memories
only bitter memories remain!
May 10, 2018
May 10, 2018 at 11:41 AM UTC
******
A symbol of denial, congeniality, and assurance of love;
the fate of maternity, motherhood, that is witnessed
and cherished from afar.
From a sacred little haven;
from a struggle of motherly defense.
O ******
Temptations are to you never a bother,
in the tempests of lush dreams,
the draining of purity,
and veritable sensations.
Steadiness is your notion;
it barely leaves your mind
you may be deeply hurt
but never hurt,
you may be a stranger
but your grace is your power.
Truth that is unpardonable,
veraciousness at my simplest words,
clarity that is gleaming in your eye,
a token of pleasure but indestructible affection;
adorable as you are,
serenity is beyond question;
dreams are but inseparable from your docile life.
O ****** the sweetness and gentleness of thy eyes
are my irreplaceable silence,
my appraised soul,
and my most resolute
and irrepressible invocation.
O ****** one that is so rare a rose
Many as in the May-day dance are tainted;
marks of annoyance, omens of indulgence.
With hunger for nothing but moans;
unsober groans, and quickening breaths in paces of outward satisfaction;
intoxicated desires but unloving movements;
on the grounds for endless dancing;
there is the thirst for grips, the grossest of stateliness!
Voluptuous romance, perfidious touches, and
false-hearted toys!
In the wakeful dreams of which
I long for you, a handful of thy chastest kisses!
I pray for your hands, so delicate
as mine, how they shall fit into each other!
I long for your lips, your spotless, uncorrupted cheeks,
My demand is for your hands;
for sanity, and sincerest cordiality
Despite of my guilt and former unconsciousness
I shall amend my grief for you,
for you only,
for oureth perfect, unconquerable happiness,
and the union of our souls
in a day of holy matrimony.
Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 7:35 AM UTC
the loneliness is killing me alive
it’s feasting off my fragile being
alone, locked up in my own four walls
i’m slowly starting to go berserk
i need something, just something
that does something to me
a lonely tear rolls down my face
a trembling ocean underneath my eyelids
maybe i do suffer from dopamine deficiency
maybe i am for being against it
and maybe i just have to stop believing all of the diagnoses of the frauds around me
as fast as the loneliness took me in
and the tears came
it stopped again
and the only thing remaining
was this irrepressible desire
for more more and more
May 15, 2023
May 15, 2023 at 2:04 PM UTC
i've had a
good day
remembered
to water my
plants
drank two cups
of coffee
didn't feel the
irrepressible need to
scream at my family
drowned in a
stranger's spaghetti
*(okay so maybe
i could have lived
without the whole
swimming through pasta
it starts to wrap around
and choke you after awhile)*
found out that
apparently i'm
the nicest person
at work because
i'm the only one who
doesn't want to
throw karen out
the picture window
*(i mean i do
i just don't admit it
because that
would be mean.)*
i kept looking up
to the bells on the door
remembering yesterday
when i saw the face
of one of the dearest
ladies i've ever known
*(i don't know if
she saw me)*
and then for some
reason she turned
directly around and
rushed down the
front steps and
didn't come back in
maybe it wasn't her
maybe an emergency
but the question's
eating at me.
slipping back and forth
here and there
into the mindset that maybe
i owe it to them
*(i don't want to go
anywhere on monday
nights but i don't
want to tell you that)*
then hitting myself
in the head because
what have i been
saying so long?
**i don't owe
anybody anything.**
i've had a
good day
or a day
that wasn't bad
*(just tied my
spine into knots
and i tried the
downward dog
but the dog
knocked me down)*
so i'm not sure
why the veins in
my arms are aching
and the muscles
in my elbows
compressing
as if
even
like i'm not
brutally aware
that my wrists are
not currently
available for
extended slitting
so i don't
know why
they're so
upset
then again
i don't
know why
i'm so
upset
either
i mean
i've had
a good day
******
Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 8:31 AM UTC
1
The surging water threw strange shapes,
Waiting crows with stabbing beaks
In the sky and in the drowned souls,
Festering in the swell.
The huge irrepressible waves
Spread wings flattening houses with a single downward swipe.
It was a sudden death,
They died screaming-avidly watched by millions nestling before TV sets
Unmoved if sympathetic.
They had watched enough CGI
Not to be bothered by such drama.
2.
The girl quietly combed her hair,
Bitter black in the lamplight,
Watching the snarling fox shoot from its lair
Slathering with fright.
As she lifted her arm again
The salt spray struck her, flattening her face
The wave soothed where her smile had been
Her limbs acquiring a greater grace.
It ****** in cars and houses, gulping down
The unresistant landscape with unforgiving speed,
Turning the living green into regurgitated brown
Digesting the landscape with ******** greed
It drew her little body back into the equalising sea
Just another bit of debris.
Jul 27, 2016
Jul 27, 2016 at 4:59 PM UTC
There's this feeling of irrepressible despair that I can no longer keep inside.
I need to know where you are, and where you've been, why do you hide?
I'm sitting here wondering why I told you to go.
Why I pushed you away, why we said no.
I see you through a screen full of lies and deception.
Depression's setting in, like screams of infections.
You were my protection, for the longest, the one I leaned on,
but by the selection of my words, you broke away clean, gone.
The pain I feel is surreal, I can't explain nor can I deal,
You were something of a thrill,
I needed you then, I need you still,
You're the only thing in life that ever seemed real,
but now I'm back to dreaming,
killing my mind to conceal.
Thoughts bleeding, mind breaching.
Heavy breathing.
Now all apart of my past,
I trap it all in a mask I wear,
my voice raspy,
I tear the wrist, bombing my heart,
Fear passed me.
Blood and bone, ******** on my own.
I found my home and another,
who loves me more than my mother,
I love you but I love her more and furthermore,
she's glorious, I'm never bored,
Notorious, but not a bore,
losing her I can't afford, so sorry baby here's the door...
Leave me be.
Can't you see?
Your memory is killing me.
At ease, I am calm,
Agreed I'm angry and I'm,
not really stable,
Turnt tables,
Look at me now,
Oh, you aren't able...
Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 2:37 PM UTC
You play your song
and I am back once more,
to a day of crushing good-byes.
Sneaking in the back door
of my protected memories
you find me.
I try to hide away
from everyone,
and everything;
trying to hold back irrepressible tears
that stream down
my cheeks.
Collapsing in a pile on the beach,
at the end of a long trail
at the ocean's edge,
my emotions spill out
in pools like blood,
flooding over me.
A rock wall at my shoulder
and shells at my feet,
my tears fall heavy
as I sob through my thoughts.
Writing fails me and my words fall flat;
I am lost between two worlds.
Even after thirty years,
my breath still catches in my throat
to hear your haunting melody.
My eyes still hold tears,
from the heartbreak
of goodbye.
Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 9:24 AM UTC
If we are fortunate,we are given a warning.If not,there is only the sudden horror,the wrench of being torn apart;of being remindedthat nothing is permanent,not even the ones we love,the ones our lives revolve around.Life is a fragile affair.We are all dancingon the edge of a precipice,a dizzying cliff so highwe can't see the bottom.One by one,we lose those we love mostinto the dark ravine.So we must cherish themwithout reservation.Now.Today.This minute.We will lose themor they will lose ussomeday.This is certain.There is no time for bickering.And their losswill leave a great pit in our hearts;a pit we struggle to avoidduring the dayand fall into at night.Some,unable to accept this loss,unable to determinethe worth of life without them,jump into that black pitspiritually or physically,hoping to find them there.And some survivethe shock,the denial,the horror,the bargaining,the barren, empty aching,the unanswered prayers,the sleepless nightswhen their breath is crushedunder the weight of silenceand all that it means.Somehow, some survive all that and,like a flower opening after a storm,they slowly begin to rememberthe one they lostin a different way...The laughter,the irrepressible spirit,the generous heart,the way their smile made them feel,the encouragement they gaveeven as their own dreams were dying.And in time, they fill the pitwith other memoriesthe only memories that really matter.We will still cry.We will always cry.But with loving reflectionmore than hopeless longing.And that is how we survive.That is how the story should end.That is how they would want it to be.
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 6:48 PM UTC
*Scordatura refers to the tuning of a stringed instrument in other than the usual way to facilitate the playing of certain compositions. A scordatura (literally Italian for "mistuning"), also called cross-tuning, is an alternative tuning used for the open strings of a string instrument.
Use of alternative tunings allows the playing of otherwise impossible note sequences or note combinations or can be used to create unusual timbres. The technique can be described as an extended technique.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scordatura*
~~~~~~~~~~~
no, non parlano italiano,
né ** conoscenza della musica!
no, I don't speak Italian,
nor do I have knowledge of music
but words, words I know how to love,
how to let them roll off my tongue,
onto yours, seducing you helpless...
Scordatura,
slow say,
you can't help it,
as you spoke it aloud
your hand opens,,
your mouth too,
irresistible, irrepressible.
wet finger petals of the flowering hand.
I want you.
I want you,
in my mouth.
I want our mouths
to make
Scordatura.
speak impossible note creations,
speak in unusual timbres,
but, as one instrument.
I want our
mistunings
to be the
tune of us.
Scordatura,
admit it, my seduction,
accomplished,
our tongues interwoven,
strings, X crossed,
and our tune,
extended.
I want our mouths to make
Scordatura,
speak impossible note creations,
speak in unusual timbres,
as one instrument,
tune combinato.
Scordatura!
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 5:57 PM UTC
As her pupils involuntarily dilate,
butterflies squirm excitedly in her stomach
and her heart rate soars
whenever he is near.
And when he isn't,
her body desperately craves his touch,
whilst her (somewhat sensual) thoughts
are of nothing else in the world but him.
Is this love? or lust?
When he catches a glimpse of her
an uncontrollable tingling erupts somewhere,
- and I think you know where -
as he shoots darting glances her way.
In her absence, irrepressible fantasies
race through his mind,
the blood pulsing heavily through his veins;
wild and on fire at the thought of being with her.
Is this love? or lust?
Both are compelling and all-consuming
and they sometimes merge together,
but they are different emotions.
They should not be mistaken for each other.
Sometimes I feel that the word love
is said too much
or carelessly thrown around
and this makes me sad.
It should be used carefully
so that it doesn’t lose its meaning
or value.
It should remain powerful.
Hormones and desire fuel
lust
but it is not the same as
the more passionate and
unconditional emotion of
love.
Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 1:43 PM UTC
**It was like a
nuclear explosion
the day vision
caught fire,
atoms were fusing
and reverberating
titillated skies were
in accordance,
the force of power
by which poetry
is reckoned,
eyes full of mist
heart ground to grist
at least 1000 lonely
teardrops kissed
mind overflowing
with notions impossible
then it occurred to me,
words are unstoppable -
irrepressible as
hot steam locomotives
and star combustion,
waging a crusade 'pon
fire breathing dragons
'tween undulating cloudbursts
of empyrean's ' stardust
amidst the conformation
of an unrestrained utopia**
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 6:15 PM UTC
It was a woodcut in our high school history text, Unit 4
Beginnings of the Modern World, that so disturbed,
from the Nuremburg Chronicles depicting the burning of the
Jews, flat perspective,
faces of the victims among flames, in no particular agony, not
especially Jewish,
during the Black Death 1/3 of Europe died 1347-1351 alone.
Although
you die together you die alone.
Earlier that week, I had attended our 6th grade's performance of Fiddler on the Roof, thinking
Coltrane should have recorded Matchmaker as a bookend to
My Favorite Things
but as the play darkened
with the town's absorption into the diaspora, democracy
yet unthought of and rule of law a fig leaf for authority
Jasper, who played Zero Mostel, delivered his line well to
the effect
you're just doing your jobs while wrecking our lives.
Anyway, nothing like that is happening here, is it?
The gardener planting tomatoes, the gravedigger finding skulls,
there is so much life a little death won't matter.
Jasper
was a beautiful ham,
big as Zero.
A friend posed
this question: must all states be melting pots like the United States?
I said yes
not because they should but since
it's inevitable. Let labor flow like capital!
America was the last word of the play and brought a tear of pride
to my eye.
Immigration, exasperating argument re the Other.
How many's more than enough? 9 billion, a rational,
real number that exceeds or we're convinced
is within the carrying capacity of the planet.
Climate change is the new Black Death.
I like the Amerindian body type and face mixed in with the
European, African.
The irrepressible economy rolls out reams of logs, ores of
elements, bags of ice, fields of rice.
Embargo. The moon stares, bare, full of interstellar space.
Better a cold shoulder than a visit from our military.
The crazy Nazis must have felt themselves extraordinarily
compassionate toward the mother, earth, the goddess,
history, or some such abstraction and, thus, acted on a
fraction of all they did not know.
Selfless soldiers just doing their jobs guarding the border or,
on the other hand, collecting ****** for the burning of the Jews.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 6:58 AM UTC
If I could paint the skies
I would paint it with the links of my mind
I would paint it with cyans and magentas and limes
Reds and oranges and yellows
Blacks and greys and white
All sorts of colours
I would paint it with sorrow and happiness alike
I would paint it with the voice of my soul alight
I would paint the sky with my emptiness...
And the result
Would be the same night sky I see.
Stars shining bright
No hint of any other colour but
The midnight painted with white spots.
Galaxies invisible
Shooting stars veiled
The moon irrepressible
The stars afield
Their lights not powerful
But gentle on the eyes
Caressing the soul
Of the weary and tired.
If I could paint the skies...
And if only I could,
I would paint it all colours alike
With a thick paintbrush
Soaked in a water airy as can be...
But, that is,
If only.
Apr 18, 2017
Apr 18, 2017 at 12:02 PM UTC
Standing in front of
A mountain of challenges
Rising high above
To intimidate your resolve
Impenetrable they seem
Deep gorges around you
Imminent defeat
Search within
For the answers
From the irrepressible spirit
Toil away
To create a tunnel
Through the challenges
Always surrounded by them
But you have a way
To create your own path
Even mountains
Give way to courage
Others shall follow
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 10:58 AM UTC
As I reflect on slow dainty sips,
The light from the window
Disclosing your tea-wetted lips,
I remember thinking that your profile
Was sweeter than soft caressing rain
On the strangely distant windowpane
And that your features betrayed
The subtle art of nature's paint palette
As surely as she had conceived
The embrace of a summer's eve.
The rhythm of droplets lost in time
Whose steady drip, drip singing
Formed a calming refrain
Played host to
The afternoon canvas of exuberance
Which now bleeds its
Pastel colors to oblivion
On the pages of my mind.
You had a compelling innocence then
Which could not conceive of boundaries
While your twinkling eyes
Recalled in me the
Urgent spice-aroma of
A hot midday field of wildflowers
Full of defiant life and
Nearly exploding from the neck and temples.
In the half-light of the study
I marveled at the hue of your
Cinnamon-cream skin
In its summer blush;
The delicate symmetry of your lips
The easy confidence of your laughter
Your casual, almost unkempt hair--
Inviting a touch or a caress--
Which conjured within me
An urgent near-irrepressible expectation
Of the scent and feel of your embrace.
You were made for love
The kind of love
Which fills each moment,
Each glance, each act,
With the awareness,
The intensity, and
The passion of a lifetime.
Your eyes opened to
Well-guarded secret possibilities
I had not dared to entertain before.
And as I became overwhelmed
by your beauty
and the sweetness of your voice
my eyes returned to
the flower in my hand
its color and scent
enchanting reminders of
you
the only missing puzzle piece
which can complete
the longing in my heart.
J. Sandy
Apr 27, 2013
Apr 27, 2013 at 7:25 PM UTC
I look up and
suddenly I am at the top
of a mountain.
Nothing but clouds that surround
to hold my hand,
so there I stand…
attempting to scream
as loud as I can.
But nothing comes out, so I dream.
My smile is the sun warming
bleak souls with vibrant beams,
creating peace below…or so it seems.
Abruptly my laughter pours
out, so on a rain cloud I lean.
But it is irrepressible - I'm on all fours.
Endorphins seeping, trickling down.
So I open up the door
and paint with colors from my core,
replacing the worlds gray with vivid tones.
Sunshine and rainbows to ensure
that the blissful truth is shown
and shared, but never compared.
And slowly I realize I was never alone.
I blink and find your eyes…I'm home.
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 1:04 AM UTC