"meridiem" poems
South coast days on end
The ante meridiem
Married to summer
People in constant motion
To the merry-go-round we go
To the merry-go-round we go
In the center
Like the mobile over my bed
Where the heart beats
Where our eyes see in teleidoscope
Inside the lines are brighter
And wider and envelop
The journey in itself
Is the gift
Apr 11, 2025
Apr 11, 2025 at 9:44 AM UTC
Mostly, it sickens me that
our notes sent back and forth are
measurably more pleasant than conversation
We share in person.
I bet that paper lotus is gone.
Interchanged sentence fragments
both homeopathic and calculated by lamplight.
I bet that bookmark is still in the same place.
Even comparing you to Ivan would be a stretch,
Who are we kidding.
Dmitri.
But that’s still not the name I call you ante meridiem.
I bet Freud was right, but I never called myself a boy.
A . Eb. Six steps.
Slonimsky dedicated so many pages to you.
I guess I will distill the Ocean
for salt.
I can’t say any of this to you,
the most honest I’ll ever be
is in a poem I hope you’ll never read.
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 10:41 PM UTC
Only a fence between the Avon Railyard and my haven:
I lived in her for those good years.
Dark grey blue sides and a white skirt kissing the green weeds,
tugging at her ankles tightly.
New hours, beautifully lit by the light of my television,
were dark, bitter like my fatherʼs coffee,
and sweet as the chocolate milk he mixed for me.
Bowed chords in the treble from rails on wheels of metal,
their songs still steal my breath and remake memories.
I swayed, swooning to sounds of our trains, but
only tunes remain—
Jul 8, 2012
Jul 8, 2012 at 2:30 AM UTC
The ghosts are hungry-
Feasting on the wide eyes that lay
Through the early mornings dark-
Hiding from the dreams-
Hunting flesh-
Hunting memories tucked away
Beneath the comforts of their pillow cases
So they lay-
Warm to the touch-
Soft
But cold-
Brittle within-
Cradled by intent-
Through the dark ante meridiem
(C) Tiffanie Noel Doro
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 10:03 PM UTC
2 a.m. condolence center
The most helpful place for confounded heart
You may ask for suggestion or place an order
Good evengloom,
How can I help you?
Informations about this stack of hair,
Please, I have sent it to your office
It has lots of broken dreams
And is covered with sharp glasses
It’s amassed by wailing light
Would you like anything else?
When you are done,
Just pack them up for long-haul
Morning departure
In the same flight as the divorced ribbons
On the issue last week
Thank you.
Good evengloom,
2 a.m. condolence center
How can I help you?
I’d like a work of art, please
With streaks of blue blood
In the red paint that was made of dirt
You know, the one dipped into a glass of arsenic
Before the loom gloom september sleep
Just that, nothing else.
Good evengloom,
2 a.m. condolence center
How can I help you?
Show me your face, destroyer
Your half-witted face
Your scavenger scars
Do not hide behind the cords
Putting the mask of a saint
You are a sinner like we are
Grief your godforsaken
Condolence center
Anything else?
Just your half-tilted face,
Destroyer.
And I shall ask no more.
Good evergloom.
2 ante meridiem condolence center
How can I help you?
Shut the stars
And light up middays
We are fed up
Of your condolence center
Thank you
Thank you for your calls
We wish you a very goodnight.
From your beloved two a.m. condolence center
Good evengloom,
good evergloom.
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 9:50 AM UTC
I am listening to melted ice-cubes breathe out of a squiggly straw
A member of the Canidae family tiptoeing to this mornings bread crumbs
I am listening to an old snore warmed under a red checkered quilt
Beige cigarette fumes off the wall crumpling rose tinted petals
I am listening to a computer fan- ***** computer for a ***** engineer
3:43 ante meridiem
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 12:05 PM UTC
She has the strangest
case of
nyctophobia. The Night
sends her into a hurried
hurried mess, eager to
greet again the sun
Stay with me for the night!
Be my lover for the night!
and you consider
and you surrender
because you have a fear of
The Sun. Ante Meridiem.
so give in!
fear controls your body
and she controls your fear
Nov 9, 2011
Nov 9, 2011 at 2:10 AM UTC
I have welcomed you back, my love
Welcome back to hell.
I issued a fair warning to the call-man
On the watchtower, I told him
“Would you believe this if I told you?”
“You tell him that I am coming for him!”
“. . . and there will be more than hell to pay. . .”
More than I could have ever dreamed. . .
His blood is my blood
&
My blood is his.
I will drown in it one day.
He walks slowly into the center of my vision.
I smell a false sense of fear,
Was it I or him that reeked of this
Blurred illusion of what we both shook from?
I heard a child’s laughter in the fog (again)
Was it I or him that brought this
Old demon back in?
I saw a trembling hand raise
As the fire blazed in and out
A knife became shape (again)
Was it I or him that first reckoned this
Evil deed of sin?
I felt the blade slide in (again)
Was it I or him that took this
Task, this burden, this dream
And crafted it into our own ****** up reality
The blood was thick on the ground
I taste that old familiar taste
That ironic, irony, iron taste . . . old blood
But again, was it I or him that began
To sink not swim into this
River of blood?
My throat is fully coated in iron
(Steal diamonds and gold)
From that nightmare/dream
And I lie here in my bed and think back
To “where the **** is my coat?’
Feb 12, 2013
Feb 12, 2013 at 8:48 AM UTC
There was no clock; no watch,
No time as they stood together,
As if time decides to take a break.
The moon was high,
On the dark black sky,
As if the night was the actuall setting for earth time.
Her heart flutters,
Her knees trembles,
As he said "I want to protect you and your fading smile."
-HIY
Nov 1, 2016
Nov 1, 2016 at 3:49 AM UTC
remembering sweating together
the summer without cooler air.
we fuck'd, project'd insanity,
then dispersed - true summer time
girl. trying to rise, and
- it's so hot in here
in the middle of the night, at three
ante meridiem. and
- it's so hot in here
as i drag'd an ice-cool'd rag from
neck down back. and
- it's so hot in here
as the single open window vent'd
our steam. and no one remembers
hiding between the negatives. no one
remembers their own foot placement.
and i long for the discomfit of that
oven-apartment, talking with her. and
- just chillin' and drinkin'
have become her life. thirteen on thir-
teen and
- i'm so tired
in the sense of a Kesey character. to lose
everyone when no one was there.
- what the ****
why is this life not over yet?
and being over this, over the readiness
to die. conquer'd once, realizing the
true deception at its reemergence.
Feb 16, 2013
Feb 16, 2013 at 4:22 PM UTC
incur a loss
of unpeakable horror
by magnitude alone
dance with one arm tied
and it's off to the races
once more
in what seems like forever
i sheltered the non-believer in me
from holding the spot...
an arthur-ragen type fashion.
the rain drops would applaud the ground
to truly advance
as they always have
subliminally begging
to settle my case
yet there is unease in the voices
almost as if to say:
we finally surrender,
perhaps you have overcome,
but once manifested
the silver will catch our tongue
any days and all days
and days just like today
when suspicions curtail
you will kneel as we prey
May 6, 2013
May 6, 2013 at 10:33 PM UTC
He entered our window
On his chariot, gold
Crashing the balloons
Left by a Sunday celebration,
My nephew’s 1st birthday
Last Sunday, yes, last Sunday
When all of us orbited
The sun
On an evening
Until 10:30, post meridiem.
Jun 20, 2016
Jun 20, 2016 at 8:19 PM UTC
Stream of consciousness
leftover chili on the stove top
the shadow self is fiddling with a tangled yo-yo
hoping to use the string to trip you up
at 5 ante meridiem
when you are most vulnerable and susceptible
and you thrash in your covers
maybe the next position will be more comfortable
the mental gymnastics are in town
except instead of balance beams
you'll see crooked frowns
and slimy clowns
and then the sun wakes up
from its desperate napping
that golden tongue is dripping and lapping
the blue sky which encourages happening
and the shadow self
can't wait
to trip you up
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 7:30 PM UTC
the thoughts that keep me up at night
all engraved in the back of my mind ---
consuming each crack and crevice, not even
giving me the chance to breathe
they ravaged the insides of my flesh, echoing their agony in my bloodstream like a distant note
but i can hear the night.
i can hear it calling me.
i hear the silence.
the familiar hum of sleeping bodies
the stillness of the wind
the distinct flicker of lamp posts
and empty streets
the quiet of the stars
and the gentleness of the moon
the night. it comforts me.
dark as it may be.
and as i feel peace enveloping my every pore,
i smile.
i close my eyes.
i let it consume me even more.
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 9:07 AM UTC
the blue ceiling's fallen,
all the livelong day the
dead will try to raise it.
so much like sunlight
from the ground up.
one side of the blade is
dumb to the other, unable
to see straight till the cut.
a window has no such
problem...won't need to
sweat blood.
Jun 2, 2017
Jun 2, 2017 at 12:08 PM UTC
[2:05]
soakin'
in
mag
nes
i
um
um
um
um
thinkin'
bout
you
mmm
mmm
mmm
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 2:09 AM UTC
The cloister garth exploded
in afternoon sunlight,
post meridiem solis
the lone mulberry tree
the only shelter or shade
where monks gathered
for tea and cake,
luce disperde
le tenebre
an Italian monk said
as I sipped tea
he eyeing me,
light dispersing darkness
I mused seeing
Dom James pass by
he smiling
carrying his cup
and saucer to Dom Bede,
l'obscurité empiète
où la foi échoue
the French monk muttered
next to the other
I said nothing
but mused on his words
where faith fails
darkness encroaches,
cloister bell tolled
conversations ceased
the monks went their way
to task or prayer
or contemplation
I helped push the trolley
with the large teapot
and cups and such
to the abbey kitchen
Dom Patrick worked in silence,
in silentio est
verbum Dei,
God's word in silence
an old monk had
told me once
white bearded
tonsured of head
God speaks in silence
he said.
Dec 31, 2016
Dec 31, 2016 at 11:17 AM UTC
Whoso tells Wyatt, I know where is an hart,
And as for me, to hope I shall.
The oblivious bidding of my time Does weary me sore.
I'm of them, a rose amidst daisies.
Yet not I knows which ails me more;
To be a rose with a thorn or a thorn with a rose.
Do not deter my hart from pursuit
For his quarry has long sought it.
Unrequited love you fuss?
Anonymity of being in a forest of Daisies I whine.
Flee from you I choose, to draw Hither to him, I seek.
"I pertinent ad meridiem" but to Whom I choose.
In his shadows I tread, Wyatt let thy Fleeting hart be witting.
Sep 24, 2016
Sep 24, 2016 at 3:16 AM UTC
You are ambushed
the very second you awaken
by a rabid animal trapped inside your skull.
It drags its claws across your brain stem,
races down your chest, past your heart
to your stomach where it begins
gnawing on the fleshy parts.
Every muscle contracts, holding tightly
to what you know you should let go of.
You turn on your side, trying to hide,
knowing wherever you turn it will follow.
You plead--*What have I done?
I didn't ask for this.
I swear, whatever it is, I am innocent.*
You take deep breaths:
rising, falling...
rising, falling....
One of you begins to calm down,
you can't tell which. You take this
opportunity to let go just a little
and the animal scurries up to your chest,
holding your heart hostage.
You focus on your breathing again:
rising, falling...
rising, falling....
Once the palpitations stop
you muster the courage to take a peek,
to look the beast in the eyes.
It's OK, you say. *It's OK.
I'm not going to hurt you.
I promise.*
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 12:47 PM UTC
Reduction asper daylight hours to worship
will immediately arise after
2018 North American orbital trip,
viz zits summer solstice (human primal
solar deification) riding astride spaceship
Earth, albeit 6:07 Ante Meridiem
Thursday June 21st noticeably slip
ping thru space beginning to harvest
incremental darkness as Gaia rip
pulls across wrinkle in time
daylight will undermine a loss,
and over the next month approximately jip
ping United States kinsfolk, who revere El Sol
quotidian solar rays, by one hour
and eight minutes (i.e. 4080 seconds),
thence trumpeting seriously
moonlighting re:
getting down to brass tacks business - grip
ping a markedly steadfast advancement,
whence August arrives (watch out),
cuz cutthroat prime rate (zero APR) doth clip,
and clock about two minutes per diem,
quite a substantial blip.
Jun 21, 2018
Jun 21, 2018 at 2:59 AM UTC
vibrancy emits amongst the echoes of the night
as slumber casts itself on most these hours, absent light
while some lack productivity, with efforts turned to ruin
my product of activities proves grand by starry lumen
ideas are born, regrets are mourned, and midnight snacks consumed
to moonlit ante meridiem: my fondness, ever true.
Oct 11, 2019
Oct 11, 2019 at 4:20 PM UTC
post meridiem,
sleep
schemata dream
and
ante meridiem
public transit
seethes
''de anima"
but
on soul
you do not have
psychotic
numbers
in everything
you are not living,
thing.
Nov 21, 2015
Nov 21, 2015 at 5:55 PM UTC
Expedition of life starts at dawn.
Trainers come genetically,
custom and society fill the gap,
we start a journey,
the route is misty.
I started for the Kanchenjunga
Half of the track was well lit road
rest was chosen weather-wise.
While I was in the last camp,
the peak was conquered by fast runners.
It took several years to start new expedition,
light came from 'post meridiem'
air changed a lot,
it was another peak in the same Himalayas.
Now the hazards are known, I strive.
5th June, 2017.
Jun 5, 2017
Jun 5, 2017 at 11:32 AM UTC
Right now I think
the sea could be calm
If we let our ship sink
We will both be harmed
Right now I know
This curr'nt will hold us
The tides are never low
But bring what is ours
Right now I feel
These waves have power
We'll keep each other still
Though seas are unfair
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 10:37 AM UTC