"mystify" poems
What do you see
When the flower meets your eye,
What beauty must hide
In visceral Versailles,
In cherry tree reality...
Does it mystify?
The variegated countryside
Does the chorus nullify
The diversified into harmony
What melodic elegance underlies
That subjective divide
Wistful of waves you fly
What do you see in the cherry tree sky
Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 9:57 AM UTC
the people whose job is to
understand the multiverse
can't figure this world out
rid·dle ˈridl/noun: riddle; plural noun: riddles
1. | a question or statement intentionally
phrased so as to require ingenuity
in ascertaining its answer or meaning,
typically presented as a game;
a person, event, or fact that is difficult
to understand or explain.
"the riddle of her death" [puz·zle
ˈpəzəl/verb: puzzle; 3rd person present:
puzzles; past tense: puzzled; past participle:
puzzled; gerund or present participle:
puzzling
1. cause (someone) to feel confused because
they cannot understand or make sense of something:
"one remark he made puzzled me"
synonyms: perplex, confuse, bewilder,
bemuse, baffle, mystify, confound;
faze, stump, beat, discombobulate
"her decision puzzled me"
perplexed, confused, bewildered,
bemused, baffled, mystified, confounded,
nonplussed, at a loss, at sea;
flummoxed, stumped, fazed, clueless,
discombobulated
"a puzzled look on her face"
baffling, perplexing, bewildering, confusing, complicated, unclear, mysterious, enigmatic, ambiguous, obscure, abstruse, unfathomable, incomprehensible, impenetrable, cryptic
"his explanation was rather puzzling"
antonyms: clear
think hard about something difficult
to understand or explain;
"she was still puzzling over this problem
when she reached the office"
| [ ] think hard about, mull over,
muse over, ponder, contemplate,
meditate on,
consider, deliberate on, chew over, wonder about
"she puzzled over the problem"
solve or understand something by thinking hard;
synonyms: work out, understand,
comprehend, sort out, reason out, solve, make sense of,
make head(s) or tail(s) of, unravel, decipher; informal: figure out
"she tried to puzzle out what he meant"
noun: puzzle; plural noun: puzzles
1. [ ], [ ] ( );
a game, toy, or problem designed
to test ingenuity or knowledge;
short for jigsaw puzzle (see jigsaw)
a person or thing that is difficult to understand
or explain; an enigma:
"the meaning of this poem will always be a paradox"
synonyms: enigma, mystery, paradox,
conundrum, poser, riddle, problem, quandary;
"the poem has always been a puzzle"
late 16th century (as a verb): of unknown origin:
synonyms: puzzle, conundrum, brainteaser, problem,
unsolved problem, question, poser, enigma,
quandary; informal: stumper
"an answer to the riddle"
verb/archaic
verb: riddle; 3rd person present: riddles;
past tense: riddled; past participle: riddled;
gerund or present participle: riddling
1. speak in or pose riddles.
"he who knows not how to riddle"
solve or explain (a riddle) to (someone).
"riddle me this then"
Origin
Old English rǣdels, rǣdelse ‘opinion,
conjecture, riddle’; related
to Dutch raadsel,
German Rätsel, to read
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 12:19 AM UTC
No option, but to be perceived
Violent, Aggressive, Irrational
Identity becoming an other
Words of malice, they mystify
Words of ignorance, they vilify
Subverting consciousness and articulation
Our identities, fighting to be
Autonomous landscapes
Hoping in anticipation for liberation
No real notion of we or me
Implicating it's inhuman to be foreign
When they represent as much of we and me
Scandalizing alternative identities as subversive
Advancing erasures in favor of hegemony
Propaganda favoring what is most white
Amelioration for the obliteration of cunning identity?
No more cooperation, ****** the euphemisms
That cover up, and help justify marginalization
Our identities, fighting to be
Autonomous landscapes
Hoping in anticipation for liberation
Time to **** ****** massacre eurocentric ideology
We preach no violence, being not them, just we
But cannot request to be free, must tear it out by force
Eurocentric ideological pandemic inhabiting, inhibiting the soul of mankind
Unthinkable abomination concealed in the veil of appropriated minds
Necessitating exorcism for the incarcerated conscious mind
When we completely violate mandates of eurocentric ideology
When only we appropriate our own identity
When we all nullify the color of our skin
As profanity or inadequacy
Our identities, fighting to be
Autonomous landscapes
Hoping in anticipation for liberation
Will be awaiting purgation from alienation
Feb 1, 2013
Feb 1, 2013 at 6:25 PM UTC
There's spring and there's summer, there's all that's in between
no listless skies of anodyne; now nature flaunts and preens
What beauty fills the hungry eye 'neath a sky of blue, serene
verdant vales soaked in sun, awash in palettes of green
There are pastels that awaken and deep shades that passion brews
created hues that trickle...sprinkled with 'chartreuse'
There's the green of 'asparagus' and that of 'artichokes'
Of 'forest', 'ferns' , of 'moss', a brush of different strokes
Fragrant plants of 'mint', then 'myrtle' and 'green tea'
'Emerald', 'jade' or 'harlequin' and 'malachites' that be
Off creamy shells, just 'pistachio', 'green apples', then of 'pines'
It lies too in 'sap' and 'teal', in 'avocados' and tangy 'lime'
There's green of the 'mantis', in 'jungle', 'hunters' and 'shamrock'
The lithe 'parakeet' fluttering and the lazy sanguine 'croc'
In blessed 'basil', ' pickle', in 'pear', 'olives' in 'bottle green'
'Gourds' and 'peas' that farmers grow in cultivars pristine
'Tis there in 'aqua' and 'seaweed', in the ripple of 'sea green' waves
In 'turtles', 'sea foam', 'anemone' and a 'tropical glistening lake'
From 'laurel green' to an 'army green' , in 'sage' ( a shade of grey )
The color of 'grass' , the murky 'swamp' , hues in array
There's 'neon' and an 'Indian green', a 'Persian' one to mystify
A 'midnight green' to bright 'fluorescent', oh, for green rainbows in the eye
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 10:30 AM UTC
You agitate, I soothe
I laugh, you cry
You procrastinate, I plan
I toil, you sleep
You mingle, I retreat
I reach, you blench
You deceive, I release
I purify, you violate
You mystify, I enlighten
I grow, You shrink
You ignore, I explore
I create, you destroy
You devour, I nibble
I give, you take
You walk, I run
I defend, you assault
You subtract, I add
I love, you hate
Jun 17, 2016
Jun 17, 2016 at 11:18 AM UTC
You never fail to mystify me
Love out of reach
A devastating fallacy
I wish you the very best
But only feel sorry partially
There’s a smile on your face again
No use for thinking so logically
A hidden curriculum so easy to mask
I’d love to know you but hate to ask
You are all I dream about
-And there you were-
A love aptitude that’s entirely illiterate
Your pearly smile stays stretched continuously illuminate
Save the feelings for the archive
So foreign and entirely glamorized
They fail to represent what reality is waiting impatiently
Your looks are intense
They compliment your insanity
But in the mean time I’m failing miserably
I can’t even look you in the eye
I’m too shy
Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 12:42 AM UTC
1909, on top of the dragon.
Marigolds whipping a tepid fug in this small room of stringy daylight.
That place where we fell in love. Where I dropped a hot cup of tea on my pants
And we ate sushi on the beach. I love the beach.
I am not ready for the ice festival or your new boyfriend.
He smells like bad disco and old people.
This piano concerto that I play before bed, before awakening,
I have your black dresser drawer in my bedroom,
It glistens of our days of Jasmine and Roses.
My mind blurs stories of you, her, and the other girl.
Rad violin songs, a friend from Argentina has introduced me to
Mystify me, I cannot hear straight or stand still. I have acquired
A gift for shivering. Still I can feel your talons raking up my spine.
Two fingers! Where? Why? How did you do that thing with your mouth?
I count upwards from you and in my peaking hours of misfortune, I
Never come back down to earth's giant centrality of duel existence.
My gut expands into my chest, my nervous system and anxiety is
All of you, a lot of her, and none of the other girl.
I make half inch black markings on the wall, this curse of feeling and not forgetting
That never goes away.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 5:45 AM UTC
Misty waters whisk my body
I cannot see
Right before me
Blurry is my vision
A mystify sound, I hear
With footsteps not very far
Who can that be
Feeling a precious touch
Behind me
I turned in this steamy irrigate
A mistress stands near
Before I speak
Her soft fingers surrenders my lips
Whispers in my ear
Her maiden name
Sounds so melodious
Attempted to grasp her by hand
As she refuses
The haze clears up
To an unbearable sight
A divine creature of elegance
As I imagine
How can this emergence of love mend a broken heart?
Sep 8, 2009
Sep 8, 2009 at 8:29 AM UTC
and the bombs sing their requiem in silent accord
while those with blood stained civil hands
think themselves out of thoughts
while running from their own feet
and here find strained in protest
words to pierce the ear of grief
and find that an elusive possession,
human identity, is trampled by larcenous wiles
such a theft that suffuses a merciless and malicious twinship
both spurious and misplaced
and produces understandings that mystify
by a succession of inexplicable events
disorientates and masks
a comedy of daylight thoughts
at once touching and grotesque
where disorientation and danger lurk
and have us believe, that which would
restore order and reason
making the ordinary world ordinary again
becomes lost in its co-ordinates
of a self made illusion
whose features lead to an uncertainty
at once plausible and disturbing
one distinguished by solemnities
of disturbed incompetence of well meaning
whose distance of sorrow evaporates
in a poignant lament
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 6:01 PM UTC
*deep in the heart of the forest
magical moments mystify
all boundaries deliquesce
liquefying
i surrender
soaring towards the sky
i'm inside your skin
the whole of your soul
i am you
and
you are me
the path to peace
is dissolving
i to we
(c)2016janetaylor
Sep 10, 2016
Sep 10, 2016 at 11:20 AM UTC
Cape Town café
drink up it's gospel brew
as black as ink
and I will ask you
what you're thinking
how you're feeling
is my love only in theory?
does it mystify?
look plainly at
your hot cup of gloom
watch it stimulate the tongue
and give away
fidelity's holy fire
that once lit the fuse
of addiction
within the skin of this burning man
May 4, 2021
May 4, 2021 at 10:35 PM UTC
The CAMERA that rolls behind a silent film,
Is most distinctly heard -
Lest what Angels gift the snowy valleys,
May mystify His every word.
Jul 19, 2016
Jul 19, 2016 at 4:50 PM UTC
I walk through the shadows of the night Under the glowing light
The mysteries of the moon mystify my mind
Shed light to my soul
Engulf my spirit to the core of the earth bringing me closer to my inner being
Fine tuned to the rhythm of the ocean
Jul 14, 2019
Jul 14, 2019 at 10:15 AM UTC
There's music in your mouth and stars in your bones
Sea air in your laughter and sunshine in your hair
Your words are honey and freckles the kisses I wish to always give
You're celestial and transcendent - you mystify me
Your jealousy has bite but mine has venom
People say we're always searching for our other half
Well, love(r), if you're mine,
Know that you are all the good in the world
- And I am all the bad.
x o x
Jun 29, 2015
Jun 29, 2015 at 10:23 PM UTC
.
What blur is vision,
When woman, kind,
Naked as the moon,
Shines in such cool
Light as the stars lit,
In ink of night, scribe
Such spell as ancient
Vocabularies mystify,
Without translations,
The heart is drowned
Feeble as fey emotions,
Rosetta of thorny cut,
Blood spilt in desires
Hard as sarsen alone,
About circle rounding,
A universe unbounded,
For love is kind poison
In nightshade of moon.
.
Jun 26, 2017
Jun 26, 2017 at 5:42 PM UTC
I know that when I am older, I will no longer be able to throw the harsh truth of reality at ones such as my grandchildren.
Too them, I will live till I’m 105. Standing as the essence of immortality that they strive to experience. This of course is a lie. But, I can longer take it upon myself to destroy the dreams and quash the creativity of the young in a world of Grey.
Walk with me through this verdant street I am going to tell you a story about a strange place...
In this strange place, instead of colour splashing itself against any and every object there only seems to be shades of grey. And in this Grey world, each generation of children receives a red balloon. The red balloon constantly engages the youth with its seemingly magical properties of levitation. But this engagement can only last for so long. Eventually the floating ball of rosa can no longer captivate and mystify. At the crucial point of demystification, the children are deemed “ready” to face the world.
So the children do the only thing left to do to join the rest of society…they let go of that slight bit of that small, rose-colored rubber which, with the help of the wind and its abundant hydrogen molecules floats off to meet the sky.
I am proud to present to you, the saddest moment our society has to offer. The loss of the inner child to the vast machine of the demiurge.
****** of the greatest caliber carried out in the name of growing up and becoming part of "real" world.
But hey,
on the bright-side, the sky gets to play with a balloon
for a few minutes before it throws it back, without magic, without life, and without its marveling child.
So, I beseech you, the reader to forever hold onto that red balloon. Hold on till your knuckles turn white because it’s that tiny, 3 cent, red balloon is the most special item in this infectious process we call Human Society.
Feb 26, 2016
Feb 26, 2016 at 1:39 PM UTC
The Gift of the Sleeping Magi
**"But in a last word to the wise of these days
let it be said that of all who give gifts,
these two were the wisest.
Of all who give and receive gifts,
such as they, are wisest.
Everywhere, they are wisest.
They are the Magi."
O. Henry**
The woman, traveling alone, thru dangerous
West Side badlands, dancing lands,
where resident fairies, ex-ballerinas all,
magical mystify a passerby's thoughts,
mesmerizing them with their mercurial maneuvers,
tango dancing upon shimmering glass pieces,
enslaving all who gaze upon them forever,
turning their captives into sleeping beauties.
Restlessly awaiting her return,
the hombre-lover early retires
to the bed chamber,
weary from another day's
woeful world worries,
long past midnight, he awakens,
disoriented, discombobulated,
and alone.
Fearing the worst,
he summons her return with text spells
and magical ringing cell's bells,
all to no avail.
He dresses,
readying for the search,
to bring her home.
Ready to depart,
he opens the door,
only to find the woman
asleep before their door.
Unwilling to awake
her sleeping hombre,
she gifts him a
rest undisturbed.
Shoulder grasped, elbow guided,
her eye glasses surgically removed,
he returns her to their bed,
to complete her own rest.
instantly, she is re-gifted,
colliding with a gravity pulling her,
into a pleasurable deep sleep.
Now wide-eyed awake,
the hombre muses and
poetry pens this tale
of his restless confusion.
O. Henry's words refurbished,
rise up, infiltrate his consciousness.
**Of all who give and receive gifts,
even the simplest,
rest undisturbed, rest completed,
they are the wisest,
everywhere they are wisest.
They are Magi.**
2::03 AM, a few years ago.
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 6:36 PM UTC
40 years of history
Rock & Roll and parties
Influencong both the no names and the great names
Black Country born
Where I bet you met a mean Black Country Woman
Did she hurt you bad?
Leaving beer on your face
Oh well, she could have lived in your garden
I think it's crazy
Elvis, really?
I never would have guessed
Who were you at ten years old?
Later you left the bright boys for the men of blues, good choice
Met the man with the axe that finally chopped away the cord from who you were
You weren't difficult, just struggling
The flock banded together, ready to fly
I'm sorry about your boy
Too young
I wish you could have been there
But I'm sure he knows he has all your love
By the way, I think I like your words the best
Vikings and Tolkein tales mystify me
Oh, and all the ***
How was Morocco?
I hear the sun just beats down on your face
And your eyes get filled with sand
But maybe I'll let you take me there
And from there I'll follow you up to Heaven
I'd rather take the stairs
But don't look to the west
I'd hate to see you cry
By the way, did you know they call you a god?
How fitting in your land of thunder, lightning, and sweat
Stand right up front, lest you miss a second of it
You sure have showmanship when you put on your elaborate robes of blue, gold, and purple
I'm sorry the thunder died
Since you couldn't hear it anymore you thought to teach young minds
But how could you really stick with that?
No, thats's not you
So you went back
By yourself
How bold
But you missed the good old days, didn't you?
Just the thought of when you were kings made you salivate, like honey dripping from your mouth
So for a second you went back to letting the kingdom gather to hear your melodic speeches
There's nothing former about you
I'm so glad you refused to be a joke
Not letting anyone come to the conclusion you were all washed up
Didn't become anyone's show to direct either
Sorry the love is gone though
And all the crazy, **** passions
But you still look good together
So I guess this is my way of showing my appreciation
No, my admiration
For a legend
A king
Thank you
Aug 13, 2012
Aug 13, 2012 at 12:58 PM UTC
Night hovers upon day in clouds ominous.
My city of rain is all silver and gold.
Reflections catch and mystify -
bounce back upon the city's castles of glass.
But it doesn't capture the mountains.
The mountains are sleekly hugging the city,
like black lions ready to leap-
to protect this jeweled treasure..
My city. My city.
Once, for a time I had to live far away.
My life waned and I stopped looking up.
There were no beautiful mountains and castles
where I had to live.
I shriveled like a leaf in autumn
my heart was broken
Somehow I found my way home.
My city cradled me and nursed me
Set me on my feet again.
At sunset I'll go to the castles
And show my face to the mountains.
Feb 10, 2013
Feb 10, 2013 at 9:58 PM UTC
To paint with passion a tapestry,
The colors must be bright and free,
The scene must show a wide array,
Of sunny times and cloudy days.
The strokes it takes to satisfy,
The toughest critic's evil eye,
Takes time and patience now to make,
And hours upon hours it surely takes.
The beauty's in the paint you show,
The message for the world to know,
That different strokes can mystify,
And capture our hearts and make us cry.
The final product for all to see,
Includes the likes of you and me,
And every person from everywhere,
Appreciates our beauty and truly cares.
To paint a tapestry takes skill,
A sense of purpose and iron will,
A dream of beauty and some reality,
Splashed on a canvas for all to see.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jan 8, 2011
Jan 8, 2011 at 2:01 AM UTC
As a little boy he wandered,
explored the forest
of life. One small, smooth
and jagged piece seeking out
those around in hope
that they’d one day
latch together, make a whole.
Trillions, gajillions, infinitillions
of parts, each unique, each
the same in a relative way.
Faces appeared and stayed,
others faded away. Ideas
blossomed gently, exploding
to states of mind, concrete views
or dust scattered with the wind.
Slowly he grew.
Some fear attachment,
but this boy lived for love.
Love for souls, life, ecstasy,
youth, holding hands, dancing,
grooves and groves of wonderment.
Some years went and others didn’t
but this boy(‘s puzzle plot)
had expanded to an extent
unbeknownst to him. Smoke
and mirrors mystify and cloud
the lucid mind.
Sometimes the crystalline clarity
never returns and the pieces fall,
a part of nothing
but ignorantly serene delusions.
This boy got lucky, though.
Some light, some gustling breeze
scattered the foggy reflections,
debilitating for so long.
The natural allure of a young lady
can lift a man from any sinkhole,
be it momentarily or neverending…
He saw those bright brown eyes
shining one day. A sublimely
beautiful face no words justify.
In he walked from the rain
and called out, hey!
So it began, the pieces reappeared.
For now, the others didn’t matter.
Two minute beings in a sea
of colored cardboard fragments,
secure. This girl, she showed him
the big picture, or lack thereof.
She pushed him to create for himself,
for her, them, noone, everything.
So they dreamed.
Aug 12, 2010
Aug 12, 2010 at 9:26 PM UTC
I once wrote to mystify a tale of lifetimes crafted in each night and day. So I pray every night as I live a near-death experience before I sleep, and I wonder is it me or my PTSD?
Souls are precious for the soul-less and mine will never be for sale.
There are a million worlds out there and they are all lived here.
Whatever might be the vows you've taken, by the morning they'll all lose their meaning because the night is harsh, and we suffer to sleep, and in our agony, the evil entities creep onto us with their mischievous deals.
There are a million worlds out there and they are all lived here.
My vision's been recalibrated to see every version of what is real, in threads of colors descending, intertwining with my stomach and neck, like a magical key to a world that emanates consciousness in orange and red.
From the brink of death to love and respect, it is all good when I remember, but what can I do when I forget?
I sleep hoping that the morning will bring back my optimism
Words Of Harfouchism
May 3, 2021
May 3, 2021 at 6:52 AM UTC
By the sea shore,
I feel the love, I feel the joy,
I feel the freedom, I feel the power
From dawn to dusk, Your beauty never fades
You glisten in the sun shine and sparkle in the moonlight
Your infinite waters mystify my mind
As the motion of your waves makes endless melodies to my heart
You cleanse my soul and fill my spirit
You give me joy, you give me bliss
You restore my peace, you revive my light
Oh you've cast a spell on me!
I'm forever I'm indebted to you
You're my home, you're my solace
©Sonia Ettyang
Sep 16, 2018
Sep 16, 2018 at 4:21 PM UTC
Soft somnolent skies have ceased seething, for day’s nearly through,
while winds echo whispering thoughts of returning to you
and heavens throb, pulsing and bleeding in crimsons, once blue -
their passions, like flames, fill my veins as you pass into view.
The breeze holds her breath as you touch, then embrace me anew
and smoldering clouds withdraw, blushing, then paling their hue.
The twilight is painted with wandering dreams of your charms,
so close your eyes slowly and slip into sleep in my arms.
The pendulous moon appears, sweeping the fog from up high
distilling the drops into notes of a hushed lullaby,
their quavering tunes spinning tales which amaze, mystify,
while tremulous stars fling a fire that fevers the skies,
for stories they tell reflect love as revealed by your sighs -
their fury is burning, alive in the depths of your eyes.
The twilight is painted with wandering dreams of your charms,
so close your eyes slowly and slip into sleep in my arms.
The shifting shore’s moaning, seduced by tempestuous tides
which flow with the rhythm of flesh as our senses collide,
and quiet explodes as the stillness of night’s amplified.
A lingering kiss bids adieu till the morning breaks wide
when cockerels come conjuring dawn with voluptuous pride
enticing the sun into banishing night, starry-eyed.
The twilight is painted with wandering dreams of your charms,
so close your eyes slowly and slip into sleep in my arms.
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 2:57 AM UTC
lavender lilies deceive
for it was merely the color i was sent to retrieve
instead i come up with lilacs, at least i do believe
holding onto the wrong shade of purple while i grieve
but then again, we've been through this before, i am naive
blue skies mystify
wandering innocent eyes
in our youth we hid in simple spots
proving quite unwise
wrapped in disguise, we had to shield our unwanted sapphire cries
green blades rest in your gentle hands
as we've grown old enough to resist parental commands
sharing cold cans, i send a kiss in your direction, confident in wherever it lands
we laugh, and soon enough, my favorite toy had become your delicate blonde strands
red love sears on my skin
burns that leave joyous scars thin
but at any moment an obnoxious grin
can quickly turn to "where have you been?"
i buried those bad days with glasses of gin
but even through hard times i knew if i had you, i could win
but one day under a yellow sun
disheveled doctors told me there was nothing that they could've done
your days were limited, and i cried every last one
i lost my appetite and only craved the metal of a gun
but i knew that your favorite flower would help me outrun
these demons who weight on my vulnerable shoulders in tons
so a lavender lily i sought out to explore
but instead i found a lilac, in the valley near the foam of the shore
reminding me you were never just one thing, but so much more
so let these petals sum up what this poem speaks for
all the colors i saw in your,
heart
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 3:06 PM UTC