"loamy" poems
[tongue taking taken prayer]
*come worship in my temple.
your tongue gowned by silence,
thy teasing vibrations disperse my slack,
exchanging it for a rigidity that is even softer, looser,
an improvement possibility impossibly incomprehensible
the noises of freedom from anonymity is thy silenced tongue
unleashed, teasing, speaking tongues unrelenting and unremitting, tongues unforgotten for they never were
learned, and incapable of being self-taught
my pleasure sprouts mushrooms in thy loamy foam,
thy rainfall nourishment, seed plant growing life morning borne,
thy tricked up sonnets played within my hearts harp,
tunes never known but coming from the land of plenty,
my new promised land
teach me where the apostrophe goes, the comma and
why the question mark is curved and dotted like my body,
why we need punctuation to separate the first from the next
trees weep as if every dry rain petal is instantly imbibed,
wanting more for my swollen by thy ministrations,
I cry out
my ice storm, my thunder, embalm me within the
electric spreading in my veins shocking steady constant
thy name thy name I beg to give thee a name
to understand what has befallen me*
you can call me by my favorite of
all my seventy two,^
your first baby squeals and
even now in human manufactured agreed upon symbols
(words),
every utterance a prayer heard and answered
my name is a heated and unbroken
hallelujah,
I am thy god, and you, darling you,
my beloved
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 2:58 PM UTC
I was with the ocean last night and your body
Was its vessel, overflowing. Words were frail,
Drops indwelling about the shapeless sky,
Water reaching for its own height and breath,
Like touch, were as desperate letters exchanged,
Endlessly read, until like loamy vellums, they
Disappeared in our hands. Inklings of tide-
Pool and driftwood.
My blood was a river that ran
Its course. Members feeding your deltas and birds
Breeding where the water-russet sheds on pampas
And inverness. Eyes like wing through ever—
Green, empties the fossil shell. Fire, brimming
Mountaintops that were, for countless millennia,
Sleeping. Did I mention that the earth moved?
No? Her displacement was involuntary.
Then came the waterfalls, lifting throughout
Time. The scent, searching for its identity,
The wave, calling to its own name— Ocean,
O— cean. And flowers, opening like galaxies
In the after-light. A universe of face and hand
With hunger for salt-rain and then the cloud
Burst-blue and spilt and spun more redolent,
Deities, in joyous creation.
I breathe, in your ocean, like a child unborn.
Jul 3, 2012
Jul 3, 2012 at 7:30 PM UTC
They set off from white rocks,
red geraniums, blue tile,
and let the green sea
lift and drop their ships far above the white foam waves.
The stony islands that were home
were swallowed in minutes by the hungry Atlantic
but they hunted the big fish,
the giant whales with human eyes
who rolled and sang and swam
in oceans a continent away.
They came from Sao Jorge, Sao Miguel
Faial, Pico, Terceira, Horta -
Nine island emeralds set in a black volcanic chain,
neither of the old country nor the new:
Halfway there and halfway gone -
secret jewels of the Portuguese sailors.
They sailed into unknown waters,
south around tropical shores
where dragons smoked and writhed on the rocks
and birds with brilliant red and yellow plumage
rose in clouds around their heads.
Then north, and north, north again
to colder waters
where sea lions barked and lunged
at the strange massive wooden beast
that coursed the waters,
strung with brown bodies swaying
on the lines and cursing the sails.
North still they swept
casting contemptuous eyes on
the cheap turquoise waters and monstrous slow turtles
of the Sea of Cortez.
Coming up from the desert, past the palms and the yucca,
the Joshua tree and Spanish daggers,
they chased their smooth grey prey,
riding the vast Pacific on their wooden island,
herding the leviathans onto their spears,
adventurers with an audience of only
gulls and sky and seal.
Until they sailed too close one day
to a rock-strewn shoreline
and saw the golden hills.
Gnarled oaks like grandmothers from home
with orange poppy jewels at their feet,
missions strung like beads in a ruby marked rosary.
The boats slowed, ****** in by a Scylla of soil
rich and brown and loamy
waiting to be seeded with grapes and apricots
peaches, avocados, lettuce, alfalfa,
fertile and heavy with sweet promise.
And the whales sang and the lions barked and the gulls cried
but the sailors were entranced, encharmed, ensorcelled.
The treacherous sea, the mysterious deep, the stony jewels of home,
called and wept
and waited in vain for the sailors
- beached and grounded -
cutting not waves but earth,
tracking seasons not whales,
seduced by dirt.
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 9:51 PM UTC
There is a storm
gathering in
my womb
soon to explode
into a thousand
crimson stars
lighting up
my veins with fire
and unraveling
deep-set,
knotted scars
and the gentle rage
outside my window
presses on, inside my head
as I lie here,
my thoughts twisted
in a cozy, yet empty bed
my thoughts unfurl
in misty haze
curl into
smoky
rouge
as nightsky thunder rolls
into creamed saxophone
deluge
the snare drum beats
in firelight
ripple sheets
in silky flutter
as my fingers strum
my womanly instruments
into loamy, primal butter
my voice in quiet utterance
as the heavens open
to heavy rains
that liquefy
my desert
hydrate my
bare-soul caves
so I electrify my echoes
into fruited, crystal drips
frothing up my
cherry wine
upon these moistened,
hungry lips
Jan 19, 2018
Jan 19, 2018 at 9:36 AM UTC
In sunshine or in shadow how rich the loamy soil
light of earth, dream of rebirth greening
lilac buds and bluebells ring
magenta hills, aubretia spring
of burning fire
A mossy path of violets, soft my feet to wander
muscari blue the garden dew
birds to drink of leafy puddles
bluest skies go grey, drifts so swift a rain cloud by
to water quick the daffodil, silk umbrellas yellow
and comes alas the greening grass
robins hopping, weaving
Spring unfurls in flowery births
tiny violets upon the earth
Aug 13, 2013
Aug 13, 2013 at 12:41 AM UTC
Behold!
that drawing in
of breath
a minty
entanglement
of starlit senses
How they curl
like the opposite
of smoke
over the very
insides
of my
earthen throat
crackle of
autumnal breezes
whooshing through
like a beacon
And in that
split-second
right before
deep freeze
my molecules
rise and fall
in the rhythm
of snowflakes
each one a
unique entity
dusting the
solid soil
with loamy richness
and simultaneous
feather impressions
of relief
Now
like silk draped
alabaster
I am cooled
Like sweet
river water
I flow
rocked by
the slow
churn of
growing freedom
that alights my pores
arises in tender
stillness
through the
looming forests
of my skin
penetrates the
unseen journey of
my night
as demulcent
and persistent
as the balmy petals
of a
raging,
fiery
bloom
Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 5:17 PM UTC
#
Hands formed into a fist
her jaw, set..
****
She's gonna slug me*
***"You opened up a thirst in me, Paul.
Are you going to see it through..
or just stand there?"***
Her war-torn, Mesopotamian spirit
Bringing fire to those beautiful, Baltic eyes;
A direct descendant of all things, Telmun
She is waiting on a Pearl
Waiting, for the Pearl
Archipelago of Virginity
--Beautiful girl is the Pearl
After gazing at her stunning beauty
I turn back, and resume the task
of digging with a small trowel
into the dark, loamy soil
She slaps me on the shoulder,
tears streaming from those dark
sky-filled eyes..
"..I thirst"
Ladles are made for love;
In abundance, they bring drink
to those who sojourn,
those, who wait
And it is I
who have allowed myself
to become distracted,
as of late--
Holding out for beauty
When all along, Beauty
Has been holding out for me
#
Jul 27, 2023
Jul 27, 2023 at 11:03 AM UTC
The cool plush ****
of succulent grass
whispering against
bare ankles.
The verdant smell
of rain pelting
the crusty earth,
loamy fresh.
The piercing tingle
of noon sunshine
on the bald orb
of the shoulder.
The comforting touch
the warm embrace
that soothes
the aching heart.
The energizing aroma
of coffee burbling
brews hope
and inspiration.
My filter, clear and bright
illuminates the night
in waves of bliss
Anchored by the senses
I remember
what brings me
happiness
Aug 15, 2022
Aug 15, 2022 at 3:25 AM UTC
The autumn winds are blowing fierce
They gust across my face
As I tiptoe through the woods
Beneath the leaves that fall
In a gentle rain
The cinnamon smell of loamy earth
Greets me with each step I take
As I tiptoe through the woods
Beneath the branches shaking loose
Leaves that have seen better days
The pop of mushrooms underfoot
Their fleshy insides I now see
As I tiptoe through the woods
Beneath the kamikaze leaves
That give themselves to the autumn breeze
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 4:38 PM UTC
I was with the ocean last night and your body
Was its vessel, overflowing. Words were frail,
Drops indwelling about the shapeless sky,
Water reaching for its own height and breath,
Like touch, were as desperate letters exchanged,
Endlessly read, until like loamy vellums, they
Disappeared in our hands. Inklings of tide-
Pool and driftwood.
My blood was a river that ran
Its course. Members feeding your deltas and birds
Breeding where the water-russet sheds on pampas
And inverness. Eyes like wing through ever—
Green, empties the fossil shell. Fire, brimming
Mountaintops that were, for countless millennia,
Sleeping. Did I mention that the earth moved?
No? Her displacement was involuntary.
Then came the waterfalls, lifting throughout
Time. The scent, searching for its identity,
The wave, calling to its own name— Ocean,
O— cean. And flowers, opening like galaxies
In the after-light. A universe of face and hand
With hunger for salt-rain and then the cloud
Burst-blue and spilt and spun more redolent,
Deities, in joyous creation.
I breathe, in your ocean, like a child unborn.
Oct 18, 2012
Oct 18, 2012 at 12:39 PM UTC
Welcome my Princess! Oh Heavens,
For the queen of my heart
Is about to offer to nature
Her complete beauty of Africa,
Give her the Kente cloth
In its rich, natural and splendid array,
And offer her newborn feet with
The golden sandals and diamond beads,
Behold! There she descends from the
Unapproachable eternal flames of the sun,
With the divine firmament
Fizzling at her flammable tune,
See how the precious fragrant branches
Of the clouds covers her lovely feet,
For the clouds have gathered and there is
Nothing more to expect but the storm,
Oh yes, I have found a ****** woman,
The beauty among the daughters of great men,
Whose eyes are as brilliant as the star
And as delightful as a sugarcane;
Behold, her face is as bright as palm wine;
Her hair sleeps like a slender thread,
And her stature is as that of a pawpaw tree,
She is called Obaahemaa Kabutuwaa
And truly she is Rasses Kabutuwaa
Whose eyes are those of the faithful dove,
Truly, Kabutuwaa whose
Gods is like that of bees,
Slim, black and full of sweetness,
Truly, Kabutuwaa is obedient and wise,
Truly, Kabutuwaa for whom
All men felt love in their hearts!
Come! Oh my unveiled one,
And expose thy soft and loamy face,
For the nations shall seek and
Behold thy enviable eternal beauty,
Ah, the proud effeminate shadow of Africa,
Please show the angelic face of
Thy love to my perturbed soul,
For thou art an African ****** indeed.
© PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI
Email: [email protected]
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 6:58 AM UTC
I walked in loamy Wessex lanes, afar
From rail-track and from highway, and I heard
In field and farmstead many an ancient word
Of local lineage like “Thu bist,” “Er war,”
“Ich woll,” “Er sholl,” and by-talk similar,
Nigh as they speak who in this month’s moon gird
At England’s very ***** thereunto spurred
By gangs whose glory threats and slaughters are.
Then seemed a Heart crying: “Whosoever they be
At root and bottom of this, who flung this flame
Between kin folk kin tongued even as are we,
Sinister, ugly, lurid, be their fame;
May their familiars grow to shun their name,
And their brood perish everlastingly.”
2.2k
~Christi Michaels~ January 2015~
Stepping into Moonlight
Eyes all a Wonder
Casting My Gaze up
Through Soft Boughs of Pine
Ethereal Brilliance, I do Ponder
Evening Darkness
Cloaks My Presence
I am a Secret to the Heavens
Only Fate knows I am Here
My Intentions Honest,
Transparent...Clear
Senses Heightened
this Sumptuous Night
Steadfast upon My Land
am Free to Roam at will
Toes immersed in Loamy Sand
Such Beauty fills my Senses
This Starry Night
Finding Solace Here
Under Magnificent Endless Twilight
Raising My Arms Up... I Surrender
Immersed into Moon's Night
My Heart all a Wonder
Lifting My Gaze
Through Soft Boughs of Pine
Ethereal Brilliance, I do Ponder
Copyright © 2015 Christi Michaels.
All Rights Reserved
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 11:02 PM UTC
on the back porch
a planter stand sits
the seedlings sprouting
with much vigor
a good harvest
is assured
in the rich loamy soil
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 3:43 AM UTC
I feel the heat
upon my neck
sparking fire,
just a peck
liberated,
what the heck
kissing lips
& moving hips
touching me
with fingertips
hot and steamy,
& very dreamy
skin of gold
smooth & creamy
inked in breath
& just like death,
come to take me
then forsake me
words you utter,
make me shudder
afterthoughts
a coming morning
& even though
ample warning
your way inside,
you are horning
romancing
of the coming reaper
our feelings go,
so much deeper
not so much,
a peaceful sleeper
cannot wait
or take a pause
surgery needed
for the cause
releasing me,
a lovely clause
plunging knife,
causing pain
cutting out
the ugly vein
taking hold,
a waving mane
telling me,
familiar songs
come inside
where you belong
even if,
they think it wrong
darkened hearts,
climbing walls
a melancholy
southern drawl
like a wanting
Vodoo doll
pounding sound
inside your chest
Am I cursed
or am I blessed?
buried in a loamy nest
heart arrhythmia
taking start
take a blade,
remove my heart
taking love
& pull apart
I hold it beating
in my hands
relieved at last
of its demands
as shadows fall
low in the deep
of promises
we'll never keep
curling toes,
as blood it seeps
colored in cascading red
of endless nights
that I have bled
laid at last, telluric bed
I'm melting slow
into your arms
dissolved into
the haunting charms
glad that I,
just bit the farm
lying in
a field of wheat
covered by
my linen sheets
a **** place
for us to meet
& burning
in the guilty heat
I'll write you here,
inside my room
skies apart,
forgiving gloom
push aside
impending doom
or what dangers
wait & loom
I wait for death
& love
...to bloom
Cherie Nolan © 2016
Oct 9, 2016
Oct 9, 2016 at 4:13 PM UTC
hyacinths and daffs in the flowerbed
those eager plantings of last summer's heat
they are the voices of our dearest dead
we have not asked just what the blossoms said
nor listened long to the black loamy beat
hyacinths and daffs in the flowerbed
have no regret nor signal any dread
their meaning is not evil it is sweet
they are the voices of our dearest dead
returning to us in the garden spread
in sudden colour in the light complete
hyacinths and daffs in the flowerbed
each shocking signal sent right to the head
and heart that with old sorrow is replete
these are the voices of our dearest dead
gone now but leaving us with souls full fed
since life refuses to accept defeat
hyacinths and daffs in the flowerbed
they are the voices of our dearest dead
Apr 4, 2010
Apr 4, 2010 at 1:58 PM UTC
Ripples on the surface,
light shined through
though
always too black to see beneath.
I've felt this way, before;
I've seen the haze and
walked within the maze and
been buried beneath the sand and
and
and
and
this isn't a dream we weave, though, it's all too much to ignore;
And all my friends, they always seem to leave;
perhaps I seem a bore.
I tried to open that
amazing door
and be within the beautiful mind
that beautiful time
which some have called "Memory,"
others "Past," "Happiness," "Solace,"
"Escape,"
though,
all I may call it now is
"What Was Once But Now Is Dead."
I see red
streaming before my eyes,
screaming into my frontal lobe
just a dream to the wise
but to a fool a deadly probe;
a seedling foully planted
within the loamy soil of the mind,
it had been granted passage
as each root unwinds.
I know I've felt this way, before,
though I can't know what's in store,
I haven't read the yore nor
that most evil, ancient lore
so all I want is more.
I must be ignored.
I must be killed.
Burn me.
Light me on fire.
Stack my rusty bones upon the pyre.
Give to me the power of the Sun,
you my planet that slowly drifts away.
I see red
I see fire
I see great flames a-dancing
I see the Sun
I see life
I see redemption and
I see it shut right in my miserable face.
I see you continue to float on off
into the empty darkness of unreachable
space
those unimaginable distances like
the passages between Memory,
Past, Happiness, Solace,
Escape.
I see you wind on off through
the narrow hallways of my frontal lobe
finally turning back before my face.
I see the terrible, pregnant eclipse
of your body before my body,
rocky to red-hot Sun,
take to my heart like an ellipse
.
.
.
I've been naughty
I am on the run
.
.
.
No light shines through here,
no ripples on inky landscapes
.
.
.
It is dark.
.
.
I have no light,
I have no Sun,
I have no planets,
I have no dream,
I have no memories.
.
.
I lose it all
and yet I keep losing.
.
.
I still feel like a dream inside, though
I know it's merely
What Was Once But Now Is Dead.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
. . . .
death .
.
.
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 11:40 PM UTC
I long for
the sanctuary of sleep,
my palm, relaxed,
upon your heart
head nestled
into the crook
of your kindness,
slow strokes of tender
shelter from
the storms within
thunder quelled into gentle
as the stars fill my bones
leading me into
forests of sweet, dark
replenishment
scent of pine
and loamy moss
over my body,
forming a green –quilted
blanket of tiny-budded love
my fingers planted deep
into the cooling soil,
sprouts unfurling
crickets in night chant
fireflies a-whirl
and the bond
in our
veins, delicate fronds
intertwined yet
giving space
to breathe,
simply breathing
lungs expanding
in the cracked
wood tranquil
of mountain air
hushed rush
For now,
through panes of glass
the moon
casts a watchful eye
caressing my
sadness with
her woven strobes
of
light
Aug 22, 2017
Aug 22, 2017 at 4:06 PM UTC
I was with the ocean last night and your body
Was its vessel, overflowing. Words were frail,
Drops indwelling about the shapeless sky,
Water reaching for its own height and breath,
Like touch, were as desperate letters exchanged,
Endlessly read, until like loamy vellums, they
Disappeared in our hands. Inklings of tide-
Pool and driftwood.
My blood was a river that ran
Its course. Members feeding your deltas and birds
Breeding where the water-russet sheds on pampas
And inverness. Eyes like wing through ever—
Green, empties the fossil shell. Fire, brimming
Mountaintops that were, for countless millennia,
Sleeping. Did I mention that the earth moved?
No? Her displacement was involuntary.
Then came the waterfalls, lifting throughout
Time. The scent, searching for its identity,
The wave, calling to its own name— Ocean,
O— cean. And flowers, opening like galaxies
In the after-light. A universe of face and hand
With hunger for salt-rain and then the cloud
Burst-blue and spilt and spun more redolent,
Deities, in joyous creation.
I breathe, in your ocean, like a child unborn.
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 11:40 AM UTC
Forlorn pleas, angst and aching laments,
Thick like a melange of surreptitiously smoked cigarettes,
And plastics that have melted and burned while too close to the heater.
The teen angst hangs in the depressions and around the corners of this place
Where it is damp and wet in the just-breaking morning.
Among the verdant green, earth-rupturing sprouts
There are flower buds that threaten to burst.
The spring landscape here reveals hewn timber,
And crafted structures
Yet also black loamy dirt
Dredged up from beneath the swollen green carpet
Of ferns and sod,
Marking the unmistakable path
Of an errant vehicle,
That skidded unexpectedly from the narrow road.
Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 5:38 PM UTC
I was with the ocean last night and your body
Was its vessel, overflowing. Words were frail,
Drops indwelling about the shapeless sky,
Water reaching for its own height and breath,
Like touch, were as desperate letters exchanged,
Endlessly read, until like loamy vellums, they
Disappeared in our hands. Inklings of tide-
Pool and driftwood.
My blood was a river that ran
Its course. Members feeding your deltas and birds
Breeding where the water-russet sheds on pampas
And inverness. Eyes like wing through ever—
Green, empties the fossil shell. Fire, brimming
Mountaintops that were, for countless millennia,
Sleeping. Did I mention that the earth moved?
No? Her displacement was involuntary.
Then came the waterfalls, lifting throughout
Time. The scent, searching for its identity,
The wave, calling to its own name— Ocean,
O— cean. And flowers, opening like galaxies
In the after-light. A universe of face and hand
With hunger for salt-rain and then the cloud
Burst-blue and spilt and spun more redolent,
Deities, in joyous creation.
I breathe, in your ocean, like a child unborn.
Mar 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013 at 11:14 AM UTC
deep in the clean loamy. in the dark froth of top soil and odd moss - deep
in the tendrils of microscopic cosmologies; fecund and rampant with life -
the long reed holding the wind's note in it's throat
in the failing light, beneath the canopies...
you're gasping. you gasp
at the habit of
love's heart
and the little things, teeming
in the underneath.
where gnashing teeth are dead leaves.
and yellow is origami
in the dappling
of the sun.
and the peace.
Mar 26, 2013
Mar 26, 2013 at 5:02 AM UTC
Your eyes are blue water
subterranean caves, swimming
you are the sun moving across summer fields
daisies always dancing toward your feet
an uprooted child, replanted
you flourish in earth and sky
dirt black hands in loamy soils
deeply rooted from the core
your salty, sweet red apple lips
are orchard fruits and fields to kiss
your arms hold worlds of weight
they are fragrant flowers, embracing grace
gentle as wings touching still waters
you are rainfall, washing
true as water
Jun 29, 2012
Jun 29, 2012 at 1:13 PM UTC
I'll have my thought-provocative chamomile island
Hold your breath if you'd like
As long as it lasts, I'll pull you to the pools
Where the warmth doesn't sink nor spike
It bubbles with treasure awaiting
Marked as rubble that keeps procreating
These caverns, they'll be warm as a mother's arms
The sea life will smile back, warm
As the breeze that will dry your walk home
This is sand I could sleep on, sand that couldn't exfoliate, it's
Smaller than your pores
The roar of a ****** the waves arching spine
Sighing as the loamy foam symbolizes sweet decline
Rind of the ***** sun
So ripe it could puncture with your own thumb
Heated juices soak the soil
Feed the trees, learn your new roots
Swaying palm leaves lap your back
Laughter breaks out in the mouth of the land
Pigmented petals kiss your core
The trustworthy breeze tucks around your form
Of course you'll be staying, even though you never went
We'll pass our days more perfect than the prior hours spent.
Jan 8, 2013
Jan 8, 2013 at 12:40 AM UTC
.
I was with the ocean last night and your body
Was its vessel, overflowing. Words were frail,
Drops indwelling about the shapeless sky,
Water reaching for its own height and breath,
Like touch, were as desperate letters exchanged,
Endlessly read, until like loamy vellums, they
Disappeared in our hands. Inklings of tide-
Pool and driftwood.
My blood was a river that ran
Its course. Members feeding your deltas and birds
Breeding where the water-russet sheds on pampas
And inverness. Eyes like wing through ever—
Green, empties the fossil shell. Fire, brimming
Mountaintops that were, for countless millennia,
Sleeping. Did I mention that the earth moved?
No? Her displacement was involuntary.
Then came the waterfalls, lifting throughout
Time. The scent, searching for its identity,
The wave, calling to its own name— Ocean,
O— cean. And flowers, opening like galaxies
In the after-light. A universe of face and hand
With hunger for salt-rain and then the cloud
Burst-blue and spilt and spun more redolent,
Deities, in joyous creation.
I breathe, in your ocean, like a child unborn.
.
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 7:46 PM UTC