"mollifying" poems
I'm
breathing
hurriedly...i'm
r e m e m b e r i n g
c o n c e n t r a t i n g
trying to p i c t u r e :
~~ A ~~
P--lethora of trees, flowering plants...across and beyond...surround the
L--ustrous surface of the rushing blue green water...spraying...
nourishing
A--maranths and azaleas, with its windblown mists...refreshing.....see,
C--reeping creatures underwater could not ruin the quietude it emits
I--nimitable is its Serenity...nothing else is at par.............its
D--impled surface, tiny ripples running, creating streams of dreams...
whispering
W--ords...a gentle massage, washing away rage, misery...like precious
A--methyst, jade, citrine and crystals...shimmering down under,
rebuilding, helping
T--urquoise, gently touch with its sea blues...above, under...wherever
E--merald waters, against red carnelian rocks...to weather...endure...to
R--escue someone reeling...patiently...with words mollifying...and
sprays of
S--alty mists..soothing pensive eyes, mind, soul...cleansing...healing
CHAKRA...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Placid~waters~run
b e h i n d~~me
b e f o r e~~me
deep~~within
~~ m e ~~
~~~~~
Sally
Copyright September 3, 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Sep 25, 2015
Sep 25, 2015 at 8:36 AM UTC
resuming textual trip
testing experimental procedures
visualizing model tsunami
augmenting facetious environment
catching abstract architecture
noticing rhythmic exchange
projecting subtextual database
airhorning reggae royalty
adding atypical party
resolving twitter question
noticing emotional mission
awaiting emotional dialect
installing metaphorical experiment
intensifying animated trip
displaying dynamic victory
programming abstract development
releasing emotional exchange
deriving fata morgana
glorifying referential sequence
intensifying facetious map
noticing harmonic trip
observing radical ratio
compiling nomadic message
predating google rebranding
reticulating facetious panda
using hyperreal feedback
exploring virtual panda
speculating graphic gallery
throwing mundane exception
targeting graphic experiment
replenishing emotional trap
localizing asemic animal
dropping rhythmic trip
propagating immortal experiment
displaying lowercase database
invading orange bubbles
crashing animated trip
running conceptual topography
remembering collapsed buildings
crashing hyperreal coverage
propagating hyperreal stipulation
finishing western library
envisioning neon tessellation
reciprocating network likes
processing animated device
releasing haptic quality
examining building seven
awaiting rhapsodical ratio
sampling death sauce
sensing lowercase clone
examining symbolic tour
processing potential development
encapsulating spatial lottery
displaying digital paragraph
reticulating theoretical source
perpetuating western paragraph
transmitting monochromatic structure
anticipating ambient quality
transmitting asemic environment
intensifying atomic quality
remastering history poem
keeping future light
hypothesizing eternal game
using future library
rearranging masonic language
transmitting masonic development
continuing ceremonial ritual
questioning party's legitimacy
deferring western coverage
finishing asemic hypertext
mollifying ostentatious presence
synthesizing allegorical icon
forming categorical unions
sketching app wireframe
programming immortal repository
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 6:52 PM UTC
**To the girl with the alluring melanin...
skin the enticing & mouth-watering color of caramel
To the girl with the enigmatic mind,
subliminally affixed to mine**
ॐ
To the girl with the beautiful heartbeat
that coexists as one with mine.
To the girl with the winsome name
...my lips feel so much better when it's your name leaving.
To the girl with the mollifying voice,
your voice is the strongest tranquilizer I've ever encountered;
It apprehends all negativity I'm engulfed in
and brings me back to sanity again.
To the girl with the broken heart
shattered into a thousand pieces,
I'll spend 1,000 days putting each piece back together
and on the 1,001 day
you'll see that not only did I mend your heart
but I gave you remnants of mine.
To the girl who was at war with herself,
I've seen your battle scars.
To the girl who constantly goes back to war,
you are not alone and I won't ever allow you to be.
ॐ ॐ ॐ
**To the boy with the perfectly sculpted face...
if you were to ever leave, I'd spend forever recreating it's beauty.
To the boy with the beautifully structured mind,
which never fails to unravel every mystery within mine.**
ॐ
To the boy with the wavering heartbeat
that coexists as one with mine.
To the boy with the voice of a symphony of my favorite melody
that never fails to leaving a distinct sense of perfection in the air.
It scatters positivity throughout my body
reminding me of the purpose of my existence.
To the boy with the faltering heart
which never falters enough to give up on me.
And even if it did, I'd spend all my days
as a cardiovascular surgeon.
To the boy with the artistic fingers that paint with fire,
igniting every inch of my skin they lovingly skim over.
To the boy with the dark parallel lines freckled over his wrists,
reminding me of the heartache, and distress you once endured.
I'd spend every day of my life eradicating each piece
of pain-coated glass embedded in your heart.
You are not alone and I won't ever allow you to be.
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 9:20 PM UTC
A contortionist achieves ******
Her ******** saluting her lips
From within an envelope of pleasure
Causing local beatitude
Though one may query such enthusiasm
Her ******** cooing mollifying concert
Waltzing against the hips of autumn temptation
That she was vibrant
Or that she was barren
Or that in artistry
This plausible microsecond
The happening of dawn quite imminent
And a canary perched upon a fence
Lavish us with falsettos
Each and every organism throughout the universe
Itself just below its conception
And love equalizes the balance
Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 10:52 PM UTC
Ghosts hide behind her eyes
Joyfully burning in violet flames
They make her chest quake
And her hips shimmy-shake
As she tosses and turns in her sleep
In the morning she bursts into the daylight
Fleeing the urgent shadows of the night
And spins into the wind
Which dances around her body
And wishes it weren’t invisible
As it glides across her skin
She wallows amidst the verdurous grass
Bathing in the eager warmth of the sun
That permeates her sheath of clothes
To the soft shimmer of flesh underneath
Her dark curtain of lashes flutters then closes
As she breathes deeply while her mind floats elsewhere
She dreams of lace around her wrists and
Rubies falling from her fingertips
She wears a mollifying grin
On her tender strawberry lips
Surrendering to the rapture within
The earth splits open
It craves to reclaim her
In all her ripe and resplendent glory
Her fingers curl themselves in the dirt
Violet eyes fly open
A fierce gnawing hunger
Has been ignited in the pit of her belly
There is a pomegranate tree in the distance
Its branches heavy and voluptuous with fruit
On lithe legs she dashes to the tree
Plucking one gently from its cradle
Once broken open
Its swollen vermilion seeds gush forth
To fall about her feet
With a sigh she bites into the milky white meat
Sticky sweet juice cascades past her lips
And along the curve of her throat to tinge the skin pink
She is filled to the brim
Inflamed and engorged
She blushes
And lets the ravished pomegranate tumble to the ground
There is laughter on the wind
Jan 30, 2012
Jan 30, 2012 at 7:22 PM UTC
Treading along the avenues of iniquity
The downbeat of mollifying choruses alleviate my ears
Ambivalent logic scours my cerebellum
A frown composed of disdain surfaces
Whilst I seek a hero amongst such strange clouds
I covet to taste of the superlative pleasures ‘tis Mother Earth
Though I am left to contemplate when next my happenings
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 9:42 PM UTC
The dissolution of days
Acquiring the malison of knowledge
Mollifying the darksome house
of mortal clay supprest in
The rack of night,
The punishment of the
tree of prohibition
Commissioned from up high,
Beer-barrel dust the souls alms!
Whilst the Maker's orbs mourn
In earnest whom he
Hast vanquished as the
Seraphic Hymn, Heaven's
sacred song hews
the blue-blankets ingress
Before the gates of the
irrefrangibility of faith;
Agaze, an angeliferous black-job-
Edifications beatific vision
Held in the nest of Abraham's *****
peeling the bells of heaven
ricocheting throughout Hell
nigh the lands of time.
ELEETE J MUIR
May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 6:40 AM UTC
swooshed the wind right through me
as bleakly whispered in my ear
the unspoken muzzy words
left my stun as they steer
for now I knew something
I knew not before
as I saw the utmost ray of hope
consumed by the darkness
craving for more
such was its haste
mollifying the very urge
just like sun relieves its ray
right at its verge
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 2:13 PM UTC
Her mind never at halt,
Eyes glued to the construction paper.
Images and ideas ample her supple eyes,
But none seem to be right.
Ink as fatal as cyanide,
The anglic shade of sapphire blends in its veneer.
From sorrow to dotage,
Each picture was erroneous to her.
Tonight her brain shall sing,
A mollifying lullaby to leisure her troubles.
For as she knows hale,
A vague mural will soon be born.
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 10:57 PM UTC
We live in mist and cloud
searching for warmth and mirth.
The mist fades, the clouds falter.
We each stand on a peak.
I see her glimmering smile
it banishes doubt and worry.
Who knew a smile could
be
so mollifying
so
filling, yet distant?
I look below
to the treacherous
valley.
I shiver at thought
but
omens cannot purchase
my hope.
I march forward.
Across the chasm
of maybe so
and
perhaps not
I fight the tide of
blistering denial, of
mourning and loss
but as I near,
her smile loses its bearings
it slackens and crumbles
smeared in shadow
it dies slowly
so does
my
odyssey...
Without her sunlit smile
to light the way
through treacherous valley
and darkening day
I wait, in wonder
of my eager
stupidity,
and waste away
in ravenous dismay
for her smile does fade
in the nearing
when will I learn that I
can never get
close for comfort.
Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 11:17 PM UTC
With all the delights that this day has pumped in me,
I shall exhale,evaluating.
Nothing frights me though,
Yet at times my humility easily goes.
A fearless vagabond that I have turned into,
Even the merciless,to look into my eyes, does not dare.
I am in no haste,
Even my trots have the power to leap and make a thud such that everybody fall off their steps.
Your stares that I descry,
No more make a difference to me.
For I am immune and have no envy,fear,agitations,trepidations or gluttonous desires.
It is no shame,those sights be such a common thing and all the same.
I have no back story and none coming forth,shortly or in this life,
I don't hestitate to yell what many of you cannot spell.
For all the stabs faced,
Birthed a scabbard and a sword in one frame.
The truth could be my lingua franca,
Forlorn be the brethren of my creed.
Repressed and silenced are my alarms of seize fire over the border,
Mollifying and tranquilizing be a part of my duty.
To stand the repercussion of my sins counts in my atonement,
For it is never an evanesce,too late.
I fear no hell or purgatory,
For I have witnessed worse in some eyes.
Victimization is a poor retreat,
To harangue them and present self with an ode is no feat.
Patience is my dagger to time,
And threatening each other we walk rakishly hand in hand.
To trail back,
Is not for me that fatal.
I emancipate the baited,
And buster am I of existing parasites.
Liberty is my boundary,
I would dare not to annihilate a choice.
But I do not condone either,
For I hate to feel withered and there is no way I may let go.
I am relentless,
I would not mind if you address me as a bovine.
I am cathartic and hysterical,most of all a contributor here,
An energy straight from plasma,unsimplified.
Mar 25, 2019
Mar 25, 2019 at 4:26 AM UTC
Driving through a remote highway in a thunderstorm,
winds howl
deafening the ears craving for a consolatory and palliative sound
the welkin lit by the fire flashing across the clouds.
The rain
****** the cars.
The thunder
seemed like a dying drummer of a battlefield.
The fiery sky
ushered callousness into the deserted streets.
A mixed feeling of fear and loneliness, anxietic trepidation and forlorn..
Suddenly,
appeared a bridge.
Lighted feebly by a bygone light post
flickering,
like the breath of the dying.
As soon as I allowed the bridge
to place its hand over my head,
the noise dampened.
the uneasiness decreased.
the war ended.
and the drummer took a moment to rest his head upon his drum..
a sigh could be felt.
there was a sense of composure and calmness
Kept hidden in the unfriendly localities outside.
The heart wanted to stay,
to be wrapped in the serenity.
The pacifying feel
like a mother holding her child.
like a wounded soldier,
who returned from the war zone, being taken care and healed by love.. but soon as I left the warmness of the friendly area..
the thunderclaps welcomed me like they got their prey back..
the winds
growling against my windshield like an unfriendly knock at the midnight.. the blanket of darkness hides away
all the light which once seemed within the reach..
I drove back home..
but with a smile..
Smile, depicting the right prediction of ending up in the same place from where I had been continuously trying to get out..
with a glow on face..
Glow, created by the fire which had been burning everything in front of me..
The tears, though invisible,
reminded me of the lows I deserve.
doing right, yet losing
was a habit now.
I marked another red on my ledger but without any jolt.
A sigh
was enough
to show that I was back.
That calming, comforting, gentle, peaceful, reassuring, restful, alleviating, consoling, easing, mollifying, pacifying, relaxing, relieving, remedying, softening, warming feeling was you.
That bridge was you.
Oct 25, 2017
Oct 25, 2017 at 6:43 PM UTC
My brain: an incessant essay with unstructured paragraphing and excess analogies, yet something in the syntax so mollifying.
The ink that I have wasted on my past is sometimes the only form of tangible clarity in the present.
Unfortunately, my typewriter often stutters on paraphrases and plagiarism, though my pernicious blessing of overactive neurons always seems elude such exigent situations.
I fall in love with punctuation that is of utmost relevance and universality, but I'm tumbling over my own pleonasm.
The ramifications of my inconsistency is is that I tend to bombard ears with clauses, but at night I dream of shouting without a single sound escaping my mouth.
Also, I hate anglicisms, although I know that the reality is inevitable.
Nov 5, 2017
Nov 5, 2017 at 10:19 AM UTC
and to wilt
parallel a flower.
I sag,
I flap
and I flop.
but never flip.
in truth!
I am decaying.
starving
because they starved me
and corrupted my seed.
before i knew it
the fusarium wilt
was my disease.
someone could’ve cured me,
watered me.
but instead of
mollifying
they
mummified
me.
dried me
into crumbs of
leaves.
nothing but dust
that decided to fly away
with the breeze.
to wilt is to wither away into nothing.
and to go faint
as in, to become dull.
that whimsical light is
erratically the same
yet never enough.
it is distorting and
it contorts
my colors.
my ambience is
disrupted
by the Eclipse of-
WAIT.
how can I grow
when no (sun)light is
raining unto my path?
drip
drip
drop.
stay.
witness as I go
from this vibrant color
to a washed out gray.
I stood in the mirror
face-to-face
with the girl who wears my face
and I watched it drain.
with death looming over
her shoulder
and no angel in sight..
to go faint would be to wither and drown in my own cries.
and to rot.
all day, around the clock.
I am that sad flower
hiding in your *** .
unable to be set ablaze
by the radiant light,
called love.
so I sit
and I wait.
I rest my leaves
in defeat.
it seems as though
I might be granted this reprieve.
and the truth is I was murdered
long before I decided to **** me.
I used to be
unseasoned.
I was fresh
untouched by filth.
but now I am
spoiled
with mold
like bread and milk.
so beware of the signs
for this infectious malady,
it might be contagious.
and in truth,
a remedy
could be made for me
or so they tell me.
what they don’t understand
is I already tried.
I tried to comply
and I tried to rest my eyes.
yet the only thing prescribed
are these drugs
with the death of my mind
being the main effect,
on the side.
to rot would be to not only wither away but also to die.
Apr 27, 2019
Apr 27, 2019 at 1:29 PM UTC
Under a certain light,
with calm mollifying gleam,
at the touch of a hand
aphasia sets in quick,
sudden and sweet, and
submerged in a pool of milk,
I become a toy submarine.
When candles did die,
burnt to their wicks,
I hear you sing,
holding up half of my skies,
convulsive muscles flex,
as if a broken thing
was longing to be fixed.
Surly time stilled passed?
Though from its presence,
we were absentees,
too preoccupied with
our arms stretched outwards
weightless as bodies
on the Dead Sea.
Oct 8, 2020
Oct 8, 2020 at 3:13 PM UTC