"linking" poems
I have a bit of a lisp.
It's not too noticeable,
but sometimes it catches my tongue
and the next thing I know
i'm linking my words together
as if I fluently speak one of the 'love' languages.
Let me tell you,
there is nothing attractive about your S's and th's
blending together as if you were a snake.
When it happens I just want to lower myself to the floor
and slither away on my belly
and go and hide.
But I will take the embarrassment
of getting tongue tied
as long as I never have to tell anyone,
a final good bye.
Because good bye's are forever.
To be continued...
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 8:08 PM UTC
A moonlit dance beneathe constellations
not Taurus or Gemini, Delphinus or Orion
but stars we named together
linking lines from star to star
hands pointing in air so cold
a tear falls and
another
leaving a roadmap on my cheeks
that you
chase
chase
chase
lifting the palm of your hand
so cold to the touch I shiver
feeling the beauty of my tears
that glisten like Venus in the midnight sky
of this cold Parisian night
you smile in jest and
I misplace the space
between you and I and that sky
whispering "do you love me?"
how could I resist the beauty of
our second to last kiss.
© Sia Jane
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 7:24 PM UTC
Being present means I'm not mentally labeling
Creating inner space and stillness, a being's haven
Being present means I'm not feeling emotionally drained
Creating inner space and stillness, more and more gained
Being present means I'm not waiting to react
Creating inner space and stillness, a being's habitat
Being present means I'm not clinging to the past
Creating inner space and stillness, it is so vast
Being present means I'm not worrying about the future
Creating inner space and stillness, and this I will nurture
Being present means I'm not compulsive thinking
Creating inner space and stillness, to God I am linking
Being present means I'm not judging what others think, say or do
Creating inner space and stillness, a being's point of view
Being present means I'm not resisting what is
Creating inner space and stillness, a native of this
Being present means I'm not attached to any kind of form
Creating inner space and stillness, a being's norm
Being present means I'm alert and alive
Creating inner space and stillness, a being's high five
Being present means I have the time for you
Creating inner space and stillness, and wholeness too
Being present means I enjoy what I do
Creating inner space and stillness, consciously too
Being present means I am consciously speaking, doing and acting
Creating inner space and stillness, of which there is no lacking
Being present means I am aligned to my purpose
Creating inner space and stillness, alive and alertness
Being present means I am at peace
Creating inner space and stillness, and flowing with ease
Being present means I accept its isness
Creating inner space and stillness, that is growing within us
Being present means I know there is no more important moment
Creating inner space and stillness, and feeling atonement
Being present means I'm connecting to a depth within
Creating inner space and stillness, for all to live in
Being present means there's nowhere else I'd rather be
Creating inner space and stillness, and the power To Be
Plant your flower ........
Being present means
I know there's no more
Important moment
Than NOW
© Delores Wiltse 2008 Excerpt from:
A Door Is Opening/AuthorHouse.com
Fresh Spiritual Poetry via:
http://peacefromwithin.shawwebspace.ca/
Sep 14, 2010
Sep 14, 2010 at 6:35 AM UTC
I go up
Then go down
My head is spinning around
First I'm gregarious
Then I'm diffident
Chaos starts to begin
As new pages rip in
I get irascible
When people ask me questions
I'm an emciated person
With stress going about
With this bipolar linking on
Tears begin to crowd
To a laughter if mismaze
My relationships are hard
For I cannot keep one
For this bipolar is to strong
I wish I could be normal
And not take pills
But bipolar has controlled me
To my birth to my will
I will have it till the end
Till I'm old and grey
It's going to be a part of me
Forever and today
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 1:34 PM UTC
They say the sea is cold, but the sea contains
the hottest blood of all, and the wildest, the most urgent.
All the whales in the wider deeps, hot are they, as they urge
on and on, and dive beneath the icebergs.
The right whales, the sperm-whales, the hammer-heads, the killers
there they blow, there they blow, hot wild white breath out of
the sea!
And they rock, and they rock, through the sensual ageless ages
on the depths of the seven seas,
and through the salt they reel with drunk delight
and in the tropics tremble they with love
and roll with massive, strong desire, like gods.
Then the great bull lies up against his bride
in the blue deep bed of the sea,
as mountain pressing on mountain, in the zest of life:
and out of the inward roaring of the inner red ocean of whale-blood
the long tip reaches strong, intense, like the maelstrom-tip, and
comes to rest
in the clasp and the soft, wild clutch of a she-whale's
fathomless body.
And over the bridge of the whale's strong phallus, linking the
wonder of whales
the burning archangels under the sea keep passing, back and
forth,
keep passing, archangels of bliss
from him to her, from her to him, great Cherubim
that wait on whales in mid-ocean, suspended in the waves of the
sea
great heaven of whales in the waters, old hierarchies.
And enormous mother whales lie dreaming suckling their whale-
tender young
and dreaming with strange whale eyes wide open in the waters of
the beginning and the end.
And bull-whales gather their women and whale-calves in a ring
when danger threatens, on the surface of the ceaseless flood
and range themselves like great fierce Seraphim facing the threat
encircling their huddled monsters of love.
And all this happens in the sea, in the salt
where God is also love, but without words:
and Aphrodite is the wife of whales
most happy, happy she!
and Venus among the fishes skips and is a she-dolphin
she is the gay, delighted porpoise sporting with love and the sea
she is the female tunny-fish, round and happy among the males
and dense with happy blood, dark rainbow bliss in the sea.
8.9k
I love the way you wrap your eyes around me
Your kitten eyes, snow white smile and innocent face
I love the way you and I hold hands and talk for hours
Our deep empty stares; ending with passionate kisses
I love it when you call me baby
Your eyes must be a reflection of your love for me
It seems to be the only thing linking your heart to me
I love the way you and I make love
So passionate
I love the way you appear in my dreams; bringing about light into my dreams
You and I
Just you and I
Like lovers do
Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 12:51 PM UTC
Hey, I need your help.
Eager yellings have got me over-thinking,
linking what I think with pain,
I'm on the brink of breaking.
Each incision to my brain,
has never completely faded.
Onto reality, formality presents us to hide everything.
Wrongly suggesting,
we'd be better investing
imperfect perfections-
Jun 24, 2018
Jun 24, 2018 at 1:03 PM UTC
You must never **** the spiders,
While, they are woven their poems into the likeness of thunder?
Kidnapped the poets, instead of the poems
Therefore, I asked of you to stop all useless riots
On poetry, read them, embrace them, and
Learn from them: poetry is disciplined
And disciplined is the most misunderstanding word
In the dictionary: but somehow it is said that
riots is the language of the unheard:
we must never embrace racial riots,
or racial profiling: reach out to racial equity
stop allowing the messages of hate to go viral
plants row of trees, in the name of love,
I recently came across, ants yes, I said ants
When army ants need to cross a large gap, they simply build a bridge - with their own bodies. Linking together, the ants can move their living bridge from its original point, allowing them to cross gaps and create shortcuts across rainforests in Central and South America.
I recently saw human fighting each other, I recently read somewhere
Where children were locked away in cages
,
McALLEN, Texas (AP) — inside an old warehouse in South Texas, hundreds of immigrant children wait in a series of cages created by metal fencing. One cage had 20 children inside. Scattered about are bottles of water, bags of chips and large foil sheets intended to serve as blankets.
We must never **** the spiders,
While, there are woven their poems into the likeness of thunder..
Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 8:33 AM UTC
I have a hard time
linking words to emotions
and emotions to actions
and all this to meaning.
I'll slowly build up
my library of feeling.
But I wonder exactly
what I was missing.
When I scrutinized us,
I did so without seeing.
I thought I knew all.
I saw my own meaning.
Life doesn't have meaning;
what it does have is people.
Now I say what I mean,
and I listen to feeling.
I've struggled with friends,
with parents, and with brothers.
I knew motivations
without knowing them.
Now I start to see people.
We're closer together.
Done connecting the dots,
we connect to each other.
Jul 16, 2016
Jul 16, 2016 at 2:18 PM UTC
Your wishes do happen some where in the universe.
Never think they are wasted.
Waves and links are formed on the other side of the galaxy..
Linking light and darkness in such a way that you see the links in your dreams.
As the wave becomes a part of a nexus it travels forever painting wishes across the universe.
Leaving behind stars in its passing wake.
Thus comes the saying.
" When you wish upon a star."
Jan 16, 2017
Jan 16, 2017 at 11:50 AM UTC
play
parallel range of
solitary confinement
omnipotent panic linking
experience
developed underwater
predictable anger
theories of the
mind
jammed in a mason jar
left to ferment
for years near extinct
then
ahhhhhhhhhhhh…
release of the rotten
the aged and
contracted
this involuntary drama
where you call
only to say
*bye
see you later*
Sep 29, 2015
Sep 29, 2015 at 5:39 PM UTC
Monet was painting up my vision
while the droves were driven out.
We stepped out to the derision
of a tenor waterspout.
The town outside is dancing
in the ruddy neon hues
and I’m ****** whilst Amsterdam-ing
by the slam-dunk cognac blues.
And a cap was shaking coppers
in an out cove by the way,
where instruments and owners
had begun to play.
The bar stools are all swaying
whilst the festival ensues,
and I’m ****** whilst Amsterdam-ing
by the slam-dunk cognac blues.
With the rhythm of the rimjhim
and the stamping our feet
we sing our drunken-whim hymn
whilst we stagger down the street.
And we had sunken five; still sinking
Im strung out, slammed, and stinking
Four sheets to the wind and freaking
about what I had to lose.
so that’s when I got to thinking
had an inkling to the linking
between my errant drinking
and the slam-dunk cognac blues…
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 6:37 PM UTC
as RNA polymerase
quietly unzips your
DNA and moves along
the length of your genes
and a bit of RNA
emerges and moves
through the cytoplasm,
after the snRNPs do
their work, of course
and your ribosomes
attach and tRNA does
its noble job fixing
to its anti-codons
linking the peptide chains
of the building blocks
of life
as all this happens
I close my eyes
and kiss you
gently on the cheek
and you smile a little
Sep 14, 2010
Sep 14, 2010 at 3:06 PM UTC
Nostradamus and sleeping prophet's One lost image of the singular Eye
Re(ad(d): No worry
To, Love Our Sun :).
Signs like Gemini is to air
Sagittarius is to fire a pair
in this crossing with Pisces
to water is Virgo for earth
too We are the mutable ones!!
Sunny is however we coin the calling spiraling too
EYE of the One generation transmutable souls of soil ARE
to earth; 'hues EYED like a butterfly, here to sample many flowers
connected within a Great Spirit invoked as in wilds if peopled or things'!!!
We do feel it within or without the actual considerations of the ultimate doings;
'letting go and taking the risk of trusting and depending on another'!!! One by one!!! :)
EYE of humus hued in spirit and love fused to the stone's twirling and of the ruse's tolling
So many of paths we traverse here as on earth the singular EYE knows out on the HORIZON
The great Eye is too glued on Sunny Sun's ever evolving viewing's as hued spirits cross EYE'S
Our blinded one eye's longing to Lyra's lyre, great musician Orpheus winging, whose W
music tamed wild beasts, caused rivers to stop flowing and enchanted even gates S
to the Lord of the Dead Hades, the softly lit fire singing inside linking heaven A
to earth viewed from outsider's hues waxing and waning of sleep wakened I N
so ode to the moon in the darkness of night gives but who takes her softer F USED
delight when One day halves by sun setting all ebbs in flowing as tides B I
to Great oceans moved like hearts breathe air to presence's emoting STAR'S
from magic to tragic we long of ecliptic traces cryptically erasing W
the blindness of memory and sight' majestic beast's floundering I
a forever crisscrossed from the One Eye here now to Knight's N
dear lost forbidden inner retreats from the East to God's lost 'S
children cast out to the land from blood pooling in spoils O
as easily uncovered as readily as new western lands had ~/ E \~ N
claim maddened ravaged savagely eagerly discovered ~(:YES :)~ G
fear still rocks this boat with hope still sailing onward (:FORGIVEN:). 'S
Oct 8, 2012
Oct 8, 2012 at 7:52 PM UTC
Standing here at the pier,
I take in my surroundings,
trying to keep my heart steady and my mind clear.
A crowd envelopes me as we all wait for that one person.
Men are holding flowers,
Women holding children,
Children holding signs.
Standing here at the pier,
I hold nothing but my heart in my hands,
Waiting until we may embrace again.
My mouth waters while my stomach twists into knots.
The air tastes of candy scented perfume.
Trying to get rid of the taste,
I take a swig of cold, refreshing water that also helps ease my stomach
Standing here at the pier,
My stomach ties in knots,
Waiting to see your face again.
Figures start to head my way.
I gasp.
Frantically, my eyes search the crowd,
Searching for just a glimpse of you.
Standing here at the pier,
My heart will not steady,
My mind hectic with just wanting to see you.
The crowd starts to disappear,
They've found they're family
They're heading home
With their family, and I'm
Standing here at the pier,
Longing to find you,
Wishing to find you soon.
A tall figure starts heading in my direction.
I squint to see
Is that you?
My lungs fill with air and I run.
My vision blurs, but its okay.
I know where I'm going.
I'm running.
Running home to my family.
Our bodies collide in a warm embrace,
I'm lifted up off the ground and swung around,
"I've missed you so much, Dad."
I tell him through sobs.
"I've missed you too baby girl.
Lets go home."
Linking our pinkies together, we walk
Together again.
We're headed home.
Jul 19, 2013
Jul 19, 2013 at 11:54 PM UTC
I sat swiftly
on the edge of my bed.
Linking my two soft hands
is a sheet of paper
ready to be
the ballroom of misery.
I held my pen,
and guided it's movement.
I let it dance on the paper
and transcribe my thoughts,
leaving nothing
but ink of grief.
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 5:49 AM UTC
A solid center presages
two generous edges
to shoulder the weight
of the curve: the bow
relinquishes tension
to the anchors of the
taut bow-string.
The wayfaring archer
tends to the curve,
notches the arrow,
selects the target,
gauges the wind,
surrenders --
*Riding like an arrow on the wind,
sure to find its mark in Breath,
and the end of Breath it portends.*
A reveler
abiding the flirt
of angle and arc,
finite and eternal,
arbiter of the holy
moment, the dance
linking death with life;
So unbearably
near the horizons,
desire yields its grip
to the coaxing
womb of the curve: tension
sighs into the space
between arrow-head
and its mark.
*And in the transmission of feeling
is the spirit of Life,
clinging - so gently - to free itself
of its own burdens.*
A sudden violence
voids archer and stag:
Continuity rushes forth
to meet the sacrifice.
The heart of the bow
resumes its tension.
And the curve
evaporates,
all but a trick
of Timing.
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 11:33 AM UTC
A white horse
body armor
a fire-breathing dragon
a sword
a Knight
a Warrior
a Prince
a Lover….He is…
**A lady
in waiting
her love my destiny
her desire
my need**
That connection of the heart, of the soul…
of each breath…. just breathe, deep feelings,
trust of the heart, the essence of each soul touching,
blending, combining, linking, joining, connecting,
entwining, merging together, deep feelings….Love…
a Knight, a Warrior, a Prince, a Lover…. He is….
**she is the faith I have lived
each day hoping
she is the horizon
come closer be real
and it is her
which essence takes
as truth and honesty**
Dreams, serenity, peacefulness, that calm feeling of
tranquility, that connection of the heart, of the soul…
hope and faith, trust and love, those deep feelings,
stardust sparkles and moonbeam glimmers, fireflies,
soft kisses, gentle embrace’s, finger traces….Love…
a Knight, a Warrior, a Prince, a Lover…. He is….
**depths of hearts are lethal
and mine has been broken died
now in her eyes
words of future
peace
arise
take wing
on Angels
make beauty
real
and on that
glimpse I breathe**
That connection of the heart, of the soul…
a quaint riverbed, big oak trees, leaves singing
a gentle breeze, the moon, stars the sun, hearts embrace,
souls collide touching deep inside, mornin giggles,
toast and jam, moon pies, warmth and hot coffee….
forehead kisses, lips brushing the shoulder and…Love…
**That word she knew that
promise that thought
the knowing
the sublime connection
I saw her there
giggling sweet
coffee and normal things
my dream**
A white horse
body armor
a fire breathing dragon
a sword
a Knight
a Warrior
a Prince
a Lover…My Heart…He is…
~
**A lady
in waiting
her love my destiny
her desire
my need**
Oct 12, 2017
Oct 12, 2017 at 8:56 PM UTC
You're somewhere between a sneeze and an ******
A breath of fresh air, and clear nostrils after you've been sick.
The sunrise, and it's set.
You are bright mornings, and the full moon blanketed by Venus, Mars, and all their siblings.
Somewhere linking here and there, I've found you.
Between love and hate, I keep you.
Did I leave, Or had you left?
I wonder how you remain and yet, never stayed.
Among my expectations and disappointments, I'm empty and full.
Full of imaginings, empty of chances.
Full of love, and grief,
Empty of myself.
Taken by time,
And her elegant thief.
Mar 29, 2019
Mar 29, 2019 at 5:35 PM UTC
There’s a wildness within his eyes that sparks a fire inside my soul.
Passion, desire and the bitter taste of lust float through the air as pheromones,
Creating a bridge between us and linking us together.
This visceral feeling acts almost like a drug, pulling me under and clouding my senses.
It’s a primal game we play. We test ATTRACTion by creating friction with our bodies.
And are frightened by the REACTion we feel, finding out that love, as a catalyst, knows no bounds of race, gender, religion, philosophy or age.
That, in the end, we’re all just human and to love is what makes us so.
And there’s no error in that.
Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 8:26 PM UTC
We are forward open thinkers
we dream of a new
without forgetting what was
With peculiarities spawned eccentricity
to keep us ourselves as one,
like no one
Without urge to be separate
we are oneself
together, we stand alone
Side stepped and vertically diagonal with grace, not trials in stride
From the waking moment routine
each day changes course
with similarities
while optional barriers are welcome
to overcome with effort
And using that effort to affect wisdoms spread and elongate strength
We work for our capacity,
at home we also work,
to make a better day
To create,
To expand
to not keep motionless
our minds
our hands
our brains in bloom.
And think and hold this knowledge tight
at one point it will open the mind of our young, to lose self and to give.
To always give.
Minimize me, I, or mine.
Talk through with question,
regardless of proof, or wrongfulness.
And wonder about laws and why?
We think. We know.
To traverse with love
In between and the seconds linking,
we desire
The ones we are near, can feel without doubt and never wonder if love was emitted.
We will communicate frequently
how they make us whole and have affected us to completion
and reraise when obstacles come towards
With complex strength and wage forward,
insist the double down
Using knowledge, work, perseverance,
and to bring it all home
To positively conquer
...using love.
Apr 21, 2018
Apr 21, 2018 at 3:35 PM UTC
You’re basic,
a lengthy silhouette
miming the human experience.
Staying up late
to blind yourself,
blinking to the sounds of sleepiness
heart beating to Skinny Love.
What ifs,
pre-recorded scenarios
imagining that first hug.
Contemplate that bottle of pills by the sink
that new film that you want to see,
condensation in the lid of the teapot.
You’re candid,
unsure if all scabs heal
trying to remember when you didn't have a writing callus,
when you slept through the night,
when purple was the only colour you didn't use.
Purify infectious matter,
***** green-blue wine glasses overflowing.
Tinfoil vases and orchid flowers,
melting boxes of 64 assorted crayons.
You’re laconic,
often dying to create,
like the verbose and the wordy
sighing simply to translate.
Missouri gift exchanges,
loose blue jeans ******
stacks of classics.
Tales of the Jazz Age wrinkling
to a slow 50s song.
You’re a try hard
dying to knit,
only true fear is disappointment
burning in the lime light.
6000 voluntary hours
linking syllables to daisy chains,
dropping pesos to foreigners,
hands sandwiched inside
the front cover and the first page
of The Count of Monte Cristo.
You’re basic,
down for maintenance,
compressing the weight of the atmosphere.
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 11:35 PM UTC
Love flows on
like a silent song
in my heart,
in my heart.
Love comes true
linking me with you
in our hearts,
in our hearts.
Love joins all
creatures great and small
in one heart,
in one heart.
Love flows free
rivers to the sea
in God's heart,
in God's heart.
Love flows on,
like a silent song
in my heart,
in my heart.
Dec 19, 2010
Dec 19, 2010 at 11:01 AM UTC
You are the pure soul of 5 year old girl
awed by the infinity of the starry sky.
You are the poetry that I humbly try to translate into words.
The scent of your neck intoxicating my senses,
The bad girl tempting one to sin the sweetest sin of all.
The magic number of our passion, old Chinese symbol that finally
reveals its truth.
Sweet flirt and ***** thoughts,
Eyes and eyelashes,
The fear of my fears.
A forest baby doe scared and confused
in the jungle noise of animal screams,
The idol in my dreams
My thoughts are like butterflies landing on your ******* your neck, your back, fluttering up and settling on the bottom of your tattoo, crawling below…
the texture of your soft skin and the hairs on your legs standing on their end.
You are the Flamenco music that I can’t listen to anymore, the guttural songs linking us to our primal ancestors, drums and clapping like the whole world applauding for you and me.
The love chart that tells it all.
The day you held my hand, in front of fifteen hundred people,
And the most beautiful scene,
alone in the cinema stall, touching an irresistible image imprinted in your mind.
Transparent lies that make me smile,
temptations away, the love that we seek where we can’t find it – sweet irony of life.
You are the punishment you beg for being a bad girl,
Your risks, masochistic game that makes you feel alive,
a life feeling like running fingers through hot coals.
Your unrestrained dialogue with your sub-conscious,
painful and rich,
open window into your soul for the magician to read it.
The power outside me and you that has connected loose threads of our hearts, the Yin and Yang clashing and meshing like two birds becoming one.
You, wild beast unafraid to devour yourself and your pray at the same time, fearless, insane, addictive.
The dream of holding hands.
February 2, 2013
Aug 26, 2023
Aug 26, 2023 at 11:15 AM UTC
yesterday my feet rested comfortably on the bar of someone else's chair
and my eyelids slid heavy and the world seemed slow
a graph of survivorship curves glowing blurry on the whiteboard
and then words slid from behind a neatly trimmed white beard
". . . .as our bodies are programmed to die."
as our bodies are programmed to die.
*thousands of miles away
one gleaming thought against a murky sky
(that's how i imagine it anyway--murky, cold,
stagnant air)
a frantic explosion of lean muscle power
and a body launching into the lake.
he was 17 and in that moment gears somewhere in this world shifted,
numbers were crunched and
some profound device processed the seconds, linking and unlinking them with an automatic, well-oiled certainty
he was 17 and the number on his football jersey suited him like wool socks on winter feet
his stride under the lights a weekly prize to all hungry, bleacher-ed, washed-up life-hunters bundled against october-night chill-streaked skies
they drank hot cocoa and he took three sips of gatorade
he was 17 and his smile
and his curls
and we all hear about hospitals but
this feels different because
he was 17 and suddenly,
instantaneously
his body was just a beep
and his skin turned the color of the walls
first the ICU painted quick brushstrokes across his wrists
then it stopped giving a **** at all
and the water rushed endlessly, heartlessly.
when I shift through memories and
find his seven-year old face in my mind, i remember a gap
where he'd lost a front tooth and i remember sunlight streaming behind his hair
it was valentine's day and he gave me a small smile and a silver charm bracelet in a powder blue box.*
i shifted my feet
heard the snap of a binder closing
and all i could think about was
the oversimplification of words
and survivorship curves
and 17 years
and
and
piles of numbers spurting from a computer
and an echo of a splash.
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 4:32 PM UTC