"moiety" poems
To be imbued with the conviction that empathic listening is a panacea,
by the surreptitious, murmurous harbinger and his mellifluous words,
provoked brooding that my comprehension of his susurrous eloquence was a mondegreen,
when this scintilla of sagacity left a fetching ingenue crestfallen.
By the surreptitious, murmurous harbinger and his mellifluous words!
I adopted a propinquity to this furtive, ephemeral epiphany,
but when this scintilla of sagacity left a fetching ingenue crestfallen,
I discerned this lagniappe beleaguered our dalliance.
I adopted a propinquity to this furtive, ephemeral epiphany.
When she became inured to petrichor I knew my method pyrrhic,
and when I discerned that this lagniappe beleaguered our dalliance,
I vowed to rectify the imbroglio for my quintessential cynosure.
When she became inured to petrichor I knew my method pyrrhic,
and I ruminated that her insouciance was only forbearance.
I vowed to rectify my quintessential cynosure of the imbroglio,
and fabricated a denouement to return her to halcyon incipient.
I ruminated that her insouciance was only forbearance,
until hearing her state our conflation made each a moiety of our own panoply.
She fabricated a denouement to return us to the incipience of halcyon
with ineffable felicity, and I remembered with ebullience my inamorata's words.
Hearing her state our conflation made each a moiety of our own panoply
provoked brooding that my comprehension of her susurrous eloquence was a mondegreen.
With ineffable felicity I found ebullience in my inamorata's words
and was imbued with the conviction that empathic listening is a panacea.
Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 4:58 AM UTC
1574
No ladder needs the bird but skies
To situate its wings,
Nor any leader’s grim baton
Arraigns it as it sings.
The implements of bliss are few—
As Jesus says of Him,
“Come unto me” the moiety
That wafts the cherubim.
2.4k
*It's optional
Like the fading of skies
Early, wild, or remorseful.
All the impalpable space in the lights
Scaled in weighty gilt and curls
The locks and gold of sun,
early as it sets on a moiety of moor grey
Brushed by shadows of agonised poplars
on a spiral land of sheer pistachio blanket.
Muffled by lyres played from the trumpets of
convolvuluses, behind spears of the brain-
an imagery commence to carouse
into planet deep.
A promenade atop the tulle of skies,
an optional way to live.
Saunter and fall onto slopes, shudder, meditate
and hit a bee coffin pebble on the temple
Where there are options to live, to bleed.
Like the lurid sunrise sifting on
yellow-green nuts, and dandruffs combed
like granulated sugar
Oh the taste of chemistry
on the shea butter candles.
It's sanguine and optional,
your farewells on laden calendars of poems
A promenade- back into sea of spears and flames
A cadaver veined in pink,
bearing plethora of methanol
down pulverising bone.*
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 5:52 AM UTC
1586
To her derided Home
A **** of Summer came—
She did not know her station low
Nor Ignominy’s Name—
Bestowed a summer long
Upon a fameless flower—
Then swept as lightly from disdain
As Lady from her Bower—
Of Bliss the Codes are few—
As Jesus cites of Him—
“Come unto me” the moiety
That wafts the Seraphim—
1.4k
It was most boastful of me to assume that I could be the one to fill your cup
to assume that no other flower could fulfill you in the same manner
who am I to assume that we don't look just as lovely in a vase
and who are you to compare a rose to a carnation?
one whose grace is affiliated with beauty itself
and another that bumbles clumsily along like that of a lost bee
in every flower pressed,
in every poem composed
I seem to grow more tired of describing this ephemeral love
I continue to saudade in pursuit of moiety
leaving myself in a state of perpetual hireath
but in full honesty, I don't mind you switching me out for rose here and then
though I can't help but ponder
if she holds the same warmth in your arms
as one does in mine
and as to whether or not I will always be a stand-in for the next lovely rose to come
-a blissfully ignorant stand-in, a carnation
Sep 27, 2021
Sep 27, 2021 at 2:22 PM UTC
My sweet evanescent orange
although it has been a quiescent season, our time seems to be running short
As you happen to be a seasonal delight
and although our dalliance has been lovely
it has not been one of moiety
I will miss your
rough skin
dulcet taste
and your slender intricate eyes like that of a flickering leaf
Your bittersweet words had a redulcent undertone,
puzzling,
in the most delightful way
but as examine said parcel of citrus before me
I find a scintilla droplet of lament
for I do not wish for this season to end
I am mindful that it would be quite stingy of me to ask you to obtain till next season
for I do not hold possession of your bucolic tree
nor do I know if there will be a following season
So for the time being I will refrain from harboring jealousy of others who admire you
for although I nurtured and paid homage to this Sinensis tree
I am aware
that I am but a visitor
sitting under a grand opulent tree
enjoying your sweet taste
while we are still in season
Apr 9, 2021
Apr 9, 2021 at 3:54 PM UTC
BASILISK-EYES,
GELID-LIPS,
UNDULATING-MANE,
IMPULSIVE-BRAIN,
HYSTERICAL-HANDS,
UNFURLING-FINGERS,
ASTRAL UPPER-MOIETY,
UXORIOUS LOWER-MOIETY,
TREADING-FEET,
HOLLERING-HEART,
REJUVENATING-PROTOPLASM:SOUL........
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 12:39 AM UTC
Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war
How to divide the conquest of thy sight;
Mine eye my heart thy picture’s sight would bar,
My heart mine eye the freedom of that right,
My heart doth plead that thou in him dost lie—
A closet never pierced with crystal eyes—
But the defendant doth that plea deny,
And says in him thy fair appearance lies.
To ‘cide this title is impanellèd
A quest of thoughts, all tenants to the heart,
And by their verdict is determinèd
The clear eye’s moiety, and the dear heart’s part.
As thus, mine eye’s due is thy outward part,
And my heart’s right thy inward love of heart.
1.2k
Tiny fingers and wobbly toes
Boy meets girl with his eyes closed.
As tiny peanuts in shells, inside a glass bubble
So fragile and gentle they grew as a double.
True miracles on earth have been born
Loyal to each other they are sworn.
Children, we welcome you to a bright new world
Mother and father, meet your little boy and girl.
Nov 12, 2016
Nov 12, 2016 at 12:23 PM UTC
*moiety: a half, an indefinite portion, part, or share.
writer reader
can't have one without the other
normally don't fool around with linear spacing,
there but for the grace of god the words come a tumbling
so fast I plant them down in rows as is customary
but when it comes to that moiety times two blues,
when you've been up all night laying down tracks
and nobody has read you latest histrionics,
you wondering what for do I gig this gig,
fingers asking what's the point of ink staining
heart bugging you, never satisfied, even alone,
needs somebody to know, a status update,
a poem unread is a sin my maybe friends,
so if you should you trip over a stumble bum's poem,
good or bad matters not, when you read, you complete,
so dying on the vine, untouched, incomplete,
be the first to have moiety times two with it,
the first read is the like the first kiss,
a certification of what is called
po-moeity carnal knowledge
a half, an indefinite portion, a part,
when shared, whereon it be writ-read,
your place on heaven and earth insured,
when you seal someone's else's deal,
I'll know and I'll be putting that checkmark
in my assignment book, and if you should go so far
to press the little red heart, my finger I'll crook,
and install you as co author of the words
a po with no mo
is half a dream half remembered
tired of singing the moiety times two blues song,
*** going, go forth and like it,
the Frenchies they got style,
when reading a po-mo they like,
they call you up on the phone and ask,
voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?
which is French for moiety times two blues no more
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 2:50 PM UTC
how do you get to a point
when you no longer
recognize the person
you are- when the hands
you've watched every day
become two strangers
hanging on your arms, when
your words taste dry and
sour rolling off your own tongue?
more importantly, how do
you find your way back?
Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 11:20 PM UTC
Synchronic simple step
be
yonder, yo, go, no
go, si, go
on and on and on
… so yust so
yust to be we once went
we split, full moiety,
each
ac-
act-
act-ion -jello-timed- lobes
blobs plasmoieted mind
parabolic, by yah,
Arching fly call it, I got it,
call his name, yah who done
did done GOT
caught
the funny parts. Read the books.
Now. At this point, cognitive native
child formed in my mortal moment
per-ifery-wasery rules
secret se- per seance
sacred made knowledge,
state of knowing entered, left
ab-rupturously, grief, lief
left easy, re lief, sigh
good
grief. We were all
we- are Charlie Brown, forever
interrupted, as if once, however long ago,
we knew we were one thing,
then we knew we were merely
words between things you knew
and did not do.
and you know you imagined this is that.
The novel experience, this side.
Post-done and paid off.
Precautionary. Click.
Why not,
who is asking, hangs, as pregnant pause
über Þe olde excessive easing hook,
who are we, and what are we doing,
we who were to survive receiving
asked knowledge, the easy-does-it tree,
shows us the easy way, this way dis-eased.
The lie and the profundus is merely piercing.
Flatten the spikes, be atop the bed of nails.
Wait. Funda-mental, bottom mind, first
id-ego otherwise mind,
frame a being, be a
one, and not the other,
here, there, there, it's okeh, eh, ok?
E-see easing easy living, being been done,
doing all that old trees do, after all,
we wait to feel the fire beetles,
land and lay their eggs among our ash,
and swollen-cracked nuts,
fire calls them into heat, in season.
Such things we learned
from the ant people who saved us in reeds,
thatching from roofs floating, maybe,
really, lifeboats, but
think a tsunami through,
rush
incursive and excursive.
Lay down a layer of plausibility, evoke applause
clap each hand once.
Curtain.
Apr 28, 2023
Apr 28, 2023 at 2:01 AM UTC
Sing softer to me,
Oh fading masterpiece of my own discrepancy.
Let the tremulous vowels resound furtively upon your delicate lips.
Fading swiftly we have only just begun to transcribe the messages underlying this fantastic fever.
So shiver with me in the cold of my own vacancy.
Trust that the smoke that escapes me now is only a product of my own frozen tyranny and that you are the foundation of this great work which I lay down my discrepancies upon;
the alter that I sacrifice my pride at.
These stone monoliths enclose my memories half-constructed,
the other a moiety of truth.
Dec 3, 2010
Dec 3, 2010 at 5:03 AM UTC
Wave dimpled, salt crested
riding a dry wind, smells a
bit like cinnamon but I will
not complain, I enjoy things
that remind me of places
I used to call
home
Nov 21, 2012
Nov 21, 2012 at 1:45 AM UTC
If there is something hidden
That is allochthonous,
A tiny, distant shard
Pure and iridescent,
No matter the beauty
Honesty has no place
In this well of confusion.
If there is something lost
That is moiety in nature
A sure, capable life
Destined to go blindly
No matter how bright
Honesty has no place
In this well of confusion.
If there is something inside
That is lost, that is allochthonous
Beautifully, alive & whole
Unknowing of it's fate
No matter that I wish
It was still a fragment
Honest love has no place
In the well of my profusion
When that something
Is not myself, but you.
Mar 21, 2011
Mar 21, 2011 at 11:10 PM UTC
Two pieces in the entirety of the world
exist as separate parts of a single soul.
Together each portion that we are
brings a clarity previously grasped for.
I taste you in the very air around me,
Sense your presence as it crowds mine,
And though we must eventually part,
know that we,
the two moieties,
exist in one rhythm.
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 4:04 PM UTC
The astral maiden, Astraea whom fairly puts
All characters to bed piercing the scales of
The crocodile- The Beneficent Immortals,
Amesha Spentas; for moksha living-out and out-living
Theurgically shaking the invisible numina of
Assiah, breaking darknesses moiety rolling asunder
Claireaudience wisdom using the internal
Monologues of the subtle bodies breath at the
Root of lights vibration. The apparition voice
Of the ritual of silence exciting the Moirai
Formula's of knowledge against the son of night
At the palace of Zeus, uprearing the final justice;
The divine purpose:- becoming visible of matter,
Corporeal, to keep body and soul together upon
Ceiling zero in the presence of the eternal consciousness;
The great watchers of the sleeping souls, loosely
Treading Via Lactea's path attaining
Immortality, burning up and burning out.
ELEETE J MUIR
Jun 12, 2023
Jun 12, 2023 at 9:11 PM UTC
Different percpectives of the same coin. You see the heads while i see the tales and maybe a little different but we both are a moiety of a whole so broken that each part doesn't recognize another.
Dec 9, 2018
Dec 9, 2018 at 9:11 AM UTC