"neigh" poems
The Feminine Core
Without it, Earth is no Earth.
I, Fathima—the primeval woman—have no doubt:
the circle of prophets is my witness—
I touched the bottom of her waters.
Zeroed into her zero-neigh,
circled it with my hair,
and laid down her foundation,
hardwired with my circle.
Sep 7, 2017
Sep 7, 2017 at 10:59 PM UTC
.
•they'd
come at night•
these footsteps are
never light• always
heavy and running ar-
ound•...they are annoy-
ingly creepy..., these aw-
ful sounds•every night,
after eleven without
fail•into rooms,
us they would
tail• making a
din overhead
•when all
should
be quiet inste-
ad•like barefooted
children i would ***
ume...•wandering and
exploring into every ro-
om•...could they come
wilfully•from the cou-
ple who live above
me•i very much
doubt so•bec-
ause this much
i know...•that
the neigh-
bour up-
stairs, they're
old•frail and meek;
never bold•they'd re-
tire early•after late, ne-
ver a party•now... there
the feet go again•drivi-
ng me almost insane•
on my ceiling now,
they're pacing•
they know i kn-
ow and they are
playing•these
invisible
feet•ne-
ver would we
meet•one thing for
sure•this is not a friv-
olous tour•determined
to tell•that they exist
as well•nothing i'm
certain but it is clear
•i think they really
like it here...•
•i don't think
they're leavi-
ng•they're
bent on
staying...•
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 8:48 AM UTC
I cried at the breakfast table this morning
my father carefully explained,
"wives must be submissive to their husbands"
"housecleaning is the domain of the woman"
"God created woman because man asked for a partner"
This past semester I wrote two papers
One, a fire and brimstone sermon
I quoted Anais Nin
sending the creators of sexist commercials to eternal suffering
**** them!" I said. "May they burn in hell."
For the women they portrayed were doormats
Misconceptions
Monsters
The other, the role of women in the 1920s,
No longer confined to the kitchen
they dropped ballots with their new freedom
they wore short dresses and short tresses
fingers wrapped around cigs
they quoted Wilde instead of Alcott
they danced until their feet hurt
I read of Anais Nin's "new woman,"
her partnership, not submission to man,
I craved a room of my own, neigh demanded it
For sheep stayed in the kitchen,
The Woolf had a study.
I read poetry
Sexton,
Plath,
I wept for their starved, depressed selves
caged, suffocating inside the clasped hands of a man.
Loved like rib-cage jails.
Adrienne Rich made me angry,
her daughter-in-law
forever trying to fit into a box
she was always too big for, spilling
at the edges, her shaved
legs like "white mammoth tusks"
I was finally
happy with my womanhood.
****** ****** ***** ********
they are mine.
******* free to move unrestrained,
jiggling under my shirt.
Wetness between my thighs.
Menstrual blood,
they are mine.
mine.
I am not ashamed of what I am
because there is no shame.
I am woman,
I am girl,
I am lady.
I am a creature
with a voice
a mind.
a creature who endured much abuse,
continue to endure.
I am woman
and I don't have to be wife or mother
unless I want to be.
I was not created for man;
I was created for the same reason he was,
to serve the same great purpose on this tiny blue dot.
I am not rib.
I am ****** ****** ***** ********
******* free, unrestrained,
Wetness between my thighs.
Menstrual blood,
I am a per.
I am a wo.
I am a hu.
Man and son need to back down,
collaborate not dominate,
speak not command,
for when less are forced into silence,
the maddening scream
hidden inside skin and bones and muscle-meat
becomes song.
this world of car horns and tire screeches
crying and wailing from raw throats
angry protests of indignation
could use a little music.
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 6:59 PM UTC
Love is a thing most wretched vile,
hear me now for what I say is true.
A shattered soul, an empty smile
is all that will remain of you.
If Love should be when the birds would sing,
then a crow I must be.
If Love doth joy from the heart forth-bring
then mine is but a lonesome cavity.
If one should drink from that poisoned spring
to prove absurdity,
then one will cling to suffering
for neigh eternity.
Yet know this about Love's bittersweet breath:
If it is pure, it will outlast even death.
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 8:25 AM UTC
Seek to always be true to your Self,
both when it's easy,
and yet more so when it's neigh impossible.
The Friends you make living Life that way
will blow your ******* mind
and last you a ******* lifetime.
Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 1:49 PM UTC
"Move" they say
and put martingale on with a neigh
Thai pony in Chiang Mai
A green patch of grass
was what your heart desires
would yourself like a chew of truss?
In the forest with no name
on hard concrete without an aim
swimming with the tuk-tuk wave
"Where am I?"
you ask with side-patched eye
"My knees are soft like a microwaved pie"
But all you ever get
is a whip on the back
from the oddity with some leather strap
"Why are you so hesitant
while all the other stallions are competent
don't you know the creatures in the carriage are very important?"
"How important are the vultures in the world I don't know
but I know that I won't say no
if you borrow a thread of my hair for a violin bow
and play their funeral march with it to and fro"
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 11:39 AM UTC
Be the best thing
you break it into pieces
Seven hours
and 17 without sleeping
the end is neigh
as you look up into the sky
Waves of Smoke
Piling up high
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 4:38 PM UTC
“Vehicular Favouritism”
Opinion is how to know the best kind,
What preference hath thee of the best car?
For best may be based on the shiny find,
Is best not simply what takes thee so far?
The sights we see attract thine eye of gold,
Why pay unemployable hope and dream?
The best is but the one in heart found bold,
Doth it raise heart and soul? Or self-esteem?
The ride you find to be at utmost high,
Is this the one that you daily befriend?
May it differ how thine neighbor doth fly,
Do you favour the ones they recommend?
Think of this thought now short-- which is the best?
Four wheels and an engine-- matter the rest?
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 6:18 PM UTC
The tide rises, the tide falls,
The twilight darkens, the curlew calls;
Along the sea-sands damp and brown
The traveller hastens toward the town
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
Darkness settles on the roofs and walls
But the sea, the sea in darkness calls;
The little waves, with their soft, white hands,
Efface the footprints in the sands
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
The morning breaks; the steeds in their stalls
Stamp and neigh, as the hostler calls;
The day returns, but nevermore
Returns the traveller to the shore,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
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GRANDMOTHER
A singing, child, a singing
about the great stallion,
who would not drink the water,
the water in its blackness,
in among the branches.
Where it finds the bridge,
it hands there, singing.
Who knows what water is,
my child,
its tail waving,
through the dark green chambers?
MOTHER
Sleep, my flower,
the stallion is not drinking.
GRANDMOTHER
Sleep, my rose,
the stallion is crying.
His legs are wounded,
his mane is frozen,
in his eyes,
there is a blade of silver.
They went to the river.
Ay, how they went!
Blood running,
quicker than water.
MOTHER
Sleep, my flower,
the stallion is not drinking.
GRANDMOTHER
Sleep, my rose,
the stallion is crying.
MOTHER
It would not touch
the wet shore,
his burning muzzle,
silvered with flies.
He would only neigh,
to the harsh mountains,
a weight of river, dead,
against his throat.
Ay, proud stallion
that would not drink the water!
Ay, pain of snowfall,
stallion of daybreak!
GRANDMOTHER
Do not come here! Wait,
close the window,
with branches of dream,
and dreams of branches.
MOTHER
My child is sleeping.
GRANDMOTHER
My child is silent.
MOTHER
Stallion, my child
has a soft pillow.
GRANDMOTHER
Steel for his cradle.
MOTHER
Lace for his covers.
GRANDMOTHER
A singing, child, a singing.
MOTHER
Ay, pround stallion
that would not drink the water!
GRANDMOTHER
Don't come here! Don't enter!
Go up to the mountain
through a sombre valley,
to where the wild mare is.
MOTHER gazing
My child is sleeping.
GRANDMOTHER
My child is resting.
MOTHER (softly)
Sleep, my flower,
the stallion is not drinking.
GRANDMOTHER (rising, and very softly)
Sleep, my rose,
the stallion is crying.
3.2k
On a green leaf
For frogs
Illuminated by the surface under
There she sits on
A part
A piece I looked as a picture
Dazing wondrously and scouring with pairs
My sandals my feet my hands
All my fingers and nails
My ears
My toes of ten
and legs
Knees and my shoulders
The missing piece
or so i thought under
The afterthought
Full of doubters
For the plants grew all tall
None could be any taller
Dazzling danglers
A field under the stars.
Girly willed as am I
Which could not seem possible
Acceptance aches
Belief breaks
Even the words I speak, write or sing,
(Shall I
Hear it...)
over there it only echos
against the busy chatter and travels back home
Clogs ********
Reminding me that a life can be extinguished with mere
disbelief.
Disbelief and ignorance another pair...
Girly willed as I am
Nodding behind books
Fiction, fiction, fiction
They neigh
So here I go...
Thankful prayer as it did happen to us..
And all of it did
That it was I who did it.
Fuels of her pair
by flying passion and wild innocence
Now...
A human being
Limitless like the others
Why don't they not see? The rest, the stops,
The same scene, there is exactly the same scene...of falls.
If they just went out and did it, for a stretch and a walk,
Just grow out of leaves, be the branches printed of feathery crease
Because I am girly willed
Golden meadows lost to become treasure.
Fearless of rags she is as I am,
Laying afloat of the clouds, linen skies, seas and drifting through the weightless sand
Fearless forever.
Oct 27, 2018
Oct 27, 2018 at 9:25 PM UTC
A long time ago
Unicorns roamed the earth
They were ugly
And dumb
And did not know fear
Did not feel the need to use their horns for anything
They were fat
They smelled bad
Like an open wounded staph infection
They did not even taste good
To other animals or humans
But there was this boy who loved to watch them graze with his pet turtle Rusty
He watched and listened
The Unicorns did not neigh so much as they screamed high pitch and breathy
Into each other’s mouths
They made no sense
It was beautiful to him that things that made no sense
Could exist without reason
And there be nothing wrong with that
Rusty would walk around them
A turtle’s pace
And graze
Occasionally bite at an ankle
It made him feel strong
To cause such a big animal pain
And slink away unscathed
No one will ever see the way such a proud turtle walks
As the way Sparky did
Head so high
His neck did not look like ******** skin
The boy also watched them die
Watched as the men in his tribe led them to a nearby valley
Where they would smash the unicorn’s head in with rocks
The animals just stood there
Not understanding what was being done to them
The boy felt like a unicorn then
When his father hit him
He felt dumb
Dumb in the heart
Dumb in the brain
Dumb in the body
For continuing to stay
The boy cried as the last unicorn died
His father said that soon everyone would forget that something so ugly lived
The boy understood
So he went to nearby caves
Where all the gay tribe boys go
Because in hunter gatherer societies
Boys who did not work were gay
They did what makes them happy
That is why it is called gay
In the caves he would draw the unicorns
He made them beautiful
And intelligent
With blood that healed wounds
And horns that if stabbed you
Would cause the most beautiful death
When all this ugly is gone
People will tell stories about us
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 3:41 PM UTC
I sit with my face to the sun trying to catch it's warmth
But the winds quickly snatches that away
I'm quite content right here
Under the baby blue sky
Sitting in a sea of yellow flowers
They almost glow reflecting the joy of the day
But nothing breaks the chilly winds of change
The flowers scream to the sky
As the Sun's rays reach down
Like a mother for a child
The wind drags in the clouds
To blind each other's view
Mother Nature starts to cry
The flowers bowed thier heads
The sun just hides her face
For everything knew the winds of Chang where neigh
Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 10:42 PM UTC
Over green meadow
The freak run
The rock, the sun, charisma
Inborn wilderness
Heat, dust flying over
Head bang, dance and neigh
Exhilarating Grace
Enigmatic Amaze
Dark horse, beauty black
Golden one and the redhead
White elf, ohh the spotted
Sunshine daylight, rainbow earth
Forward tribe, believers' trust
Streak of dreams, a nature's glare
Charming prayers, Gazing stare
Temptations hush
Emotions gush
Knowing of the kind
Knowing of the harsh
Of the bold ,and the free
Showering Bliss
Throughout history
A seeker, an observer
An adventurer
A friend, an undercover
Calm and steady
Innocence
Strong will
Wilderness and free
Deep onto truth
High into truth
Flying deep
Knowing Within
Knowing Without
Enlightenment
And Reality
The nature's way
Nature's advocate
Pioneers
Symbol of strength
Wild and free
Wild horses set you free
Mar 9, 2019
Mar 9, 2019 at 9:39 AM UTC
Two rows of a faceless infantry
fall into line;
I am their general
for this callous battle.
Overlords awaken;
their mirrored armies in meager shadow
to these giants that have played
the game of winning before.
The front rank advances slowly,
private by private; caressing the
battlefield as if never to return again.
The cavalry cry out into the night,
A horse’s metallic neigh that pierces through
to the other side’s defenses,
and the surrounding warriors join in for the hunt.
A piece for a piece;
The desperate deal is made
between the masters of their
horrified soldiers.
Do I dare repeat
such insidious acts within my fleet?
The crown shakes with fear,
for the opposing ranks are drawing near.
Towering higher than the castles upon the deck,
I make my way to the monarch in check;
Swords left littered across the field
as the fires of carnage have dwindled low,
but trampling through grief, groans, and woe,
The other side is forced to yield.
Nov 27, 2021
Nov 27, 2021 at 1:39 AM UTC
Before the dawn's display
Before the rooster calls
And horses neigh
Hot coffee on my breath
Wearing an old hat
that's old as death
I set out in silence
Into the dark
Full of grit/pure providence
Wearing a backpack
Full of life
I cross the faceless row
Feel empty blackness as it weeps
Dark moon has the sun in tow
As the cold icy air
catches on my lungs
Freezing my nasal hair
The frost makes step unsure
I cross the boardwalk
The distance is my lure
I came prepared
I came to my senses
I feel freedom in the cold freezing air
Wearing a backpack
Full of life
Nov 23, 2016
Nov 23, 2016 at 8:14 PM UTC
I am a carousel going
too fast.
The grey sky is my envelope,
when it opens
it pours
with belated emotion and fiery.
Ironing out the creases,
straightening my mind,
I am okay
“I am okay”
I. Am. Okay.
I repeat
over and over .
This is a temporary glitch,
The carousel is slowing,
slowing
but
my mind
it goes
faster
and
faster
until!
The carousel reaches its impending doom.
Delayed reactions,
my head is still spinning
my hands are holding so tight
onto the horses beautiful deep black reins.
The carousel with its supposedly fairytale ending,
riding on the back of a horse into
a state of complete relaxation and calmness.
I hear the neigh of the horse before
my head hits the floor and I enter the black hole
my mind.
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 10:21 AM UTC
A cowboy in love with his horse
was convinced they should marry, of course.
They’d spent quality time roping cattle
And he was happiest when in the saddle.
“Love is Love, the high court has opined,
So why should folks deny me mine!”
The neighborhood blondes he found silly,
So he went for long rides with the fillies.
While he flirted with Pintos and Roans,
the Palomino he loved as his own.
Such idylls they spend in the bower
That he threw her a nice bridle shower.
He rented a barn as the hall
and invited his friends one and all.
While Mendelssohn is favored by most
He chose the “Call to the Post”
For their first dance he hoped they could play
“The Run for the Roses” that day.
All his plans came to naught, sad to say
When the love of his life answered” Neigh”
If an animal is your “one and only”
Better make it a sheep, not a pony!
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 7:38 AM UTC
That lover of a night
Came when he would,
Went in the dawning light
Whether I would or no;
Men come, men go;
All things remain in God.
Banners choke the sky;
Men-at-arms tread;
Armoured horses neigh
In the narrow pass:
All things remain in God.
Before their eyes a house
That from childhood stood
Uninhabited, ruinous,
Suddenly lit up
From door to top:
All things remain in God.
I had wild Jack for a lover;
Though like a road
That men pass over
My body makes no moan
But sings on:
All things remain in God.
1.9k
Owls say who
cows go moo
ghosts say boo
nothing new
horse goes neigh
but what does the turtle say?
bird wings go flip flap
fish fins go splish splash
horse hooves go clip clop
snake belly goes slither
Santa Clause says ** ** **
but what's the sound of the camel toe?
What day is it?
Everyday Is **** Day
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 10:18 AM UTC
You blame not
when I am not with you.
You welcome
when I come back to you.
You nourish
when I am open to you.
You flourish
when I am your conduit.
There is no mention
of the time we're separate.
There is no pressure
to be a certain way.
There is no guilt
in being distracted by life.
There is no shame
in being wrong about things,
even yourself.
You are compassionate.
Though,
When I chase, you elude-
(because you are already there in me.)
When I stay, you egg me on
(because you are pure energy.)
When I capture, you escape
(because you are ethereal)
When I accommodate, you amaze
(because you are all-creative)
When I name, you become anomalous
(because you defy labels)
When I control, you boycott
(because to control is to disrespect).
When I let go, you comply
(because by letting go, you let it stay).
You are nothing as you are everything;
the things we perceive are your reflections.
Though you are no singular thing,
that is what allows you to be everything.
You are each person,
but very few people are you.
You are infinite wisdom,
thus can no one define you.
You are a pattern, a fractal of Philosophy
that can be reflected and lived
but not that can be told or taught (other than perhaps by example);
for it is subjectively based on One's existence and mindset.
Based upon One's path:
***It is simultaneously the greatest gift and curse
for One to have One's own path:***
No one can dictate for anyone else their path
because no one has the path of anyone else,
nor can they know of the path of another.
It's neigh impossible for one to know one's own path;
you must always be seeking to discover it; to let it unfold.
One can and must learn to be more sensitive to One's own path;
That itself takes great mental cultivation,
which in turn takes a willingness for One to learn things about Oneself that One might not like,
not to mention Practice, Self-Discipline, and Patience.
None of which can anyone do for You
but You.
::
It is up to you and you alone how worthwhile your life ends up being;
physical reality is a holographic maximum-security prison for your Chi
but the holographic prison is merciful by the grace of it being holographic.
Apr 14, 2013
Apr 14, 2013 at 4:56 PM UTC
Where encased is the secret of bliss
Is it encoded in any talisman abstruse?
Does it linger unseen on the face of angelic babes
Who with smiles and laughter create such heavenly vibes?
Can it be in the eyes of charming belles
Who hold the world under their mesmerizing spells?
Or is it in the heroic deeds of valiant men
Who on the face of death, undaunted remain?
Can we behold it in the brilliance of the rising sun
Or in the serene calm of the misty twilight dawn?
Does bliss hover on the banks of streaming brooks
Or on the heights of snow clad mountain peaks
Can it be with fair Venus- Queen of Love
Or in the arrows speeding from amorous Cupid’s bow
Does it glisten in the silvery beams of the shining moon
Or in the setting sun’s embers of amber and maroon
Can it be somewhere in heavens so high
Beneath the fluffy clouds quietly gliding neigh
Can sweet Paradise be the seat of bliss
Where seraphs sing, angels dance and nothing is amiss
Nay, it surely resides not in worlds beyond
But here on Earth, in the union of hearts with love abound.
Jun 12, 2016
Jun 12, 2016 at 9:09 AM UTC
585
I like to see it lap the Miles—
And lick the Valleys up—
And stop to feed itself at Tanks—
And then—prodigious step
Around a Pile of Mountains—
And supercilious peer
In Shanties—by the sides of Roads—
And then a Quarry pare
To fit its Ribs
And crawl between
Complaining all the while
In horrid—hooting stanza—
Then chase itself down Hill—
And neigh like Boanerges—
Then—punctual as a Star
Stop—docile and omnipotent
At its own stable door—
1.8k
Oh you, for whom I have settled for.
How I long to eat alone no more!
My thought may wander,
but you do sometimes cross my mind.
Like when I am tantalized by images,
your buggy eyes and large right breast.
They cause my heart to swell with excitement!
Waiting, for my return at long last to the apartment.
My soul yearns for your companionship.
I shall fill you with love!
When only I return,
I will release the flood gates of emotion.
I shall smother you in affection.
so be warned,
my return is neigh!
Jun 4, 2012
Jun 4, 2012 at 6:05 PM UTC
I once found a unicorn horn
But my peers only met me with scorn
I made such a wish
Turned into a fish
And swan for the sea until morn
I took the horn and held it up high
Said a prayer to the lord of the sky
Thunder did clap
And I fell into a trap
That cost me my left arm and one eye
I cast the horn off a cliff
Into a vast cavernous rift
It bounced right back up
Broke my best cup
Which was going to cause me a tiff
See, my wife had just bought me that glass
And now she would kick my whole ***
First with a boot
Just like in Beirut
Where they stomp you for not wearing a sash
I have fallen right off of the point
Probably from smoking that joint
This was about a fine horn
From a unicorn born
By the oil which was once used to anoint
a religious twist enters the plot
some of you like that a lot
but it was just a trick
like a bordered **** pic
as I turn the piece back to green ***
see I grow for the boys and girls
in a field on top of the world
vast fields of ****
are all that I need
to keep all my drawstrings unfurled
but a unicorn has no need of strings
or any such silly ole things
with a magical neigh
he just sauntered away
so I’ll end this song just as it sings
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 5:46 PM UTC