"nonesuch" poems
the darkest nights blame the sun kissed moon,
and we're paralyzed by the weather.
above stormy skies we lie fragile and wait,
as the time flies by like our pleasure.
blankets of bourbon, wine & cheese plates,
shooting stars wish us to forget them.
my thigh rubs gently along your soft suede,
answers beg question's forgiveness.
Jan 8, 2019
Jan 8, 2019 at 10:33 PM UTC
once we were one, so close
now turncoat in lakes of
oleander, creeks run poison
we two betrayed
what stolen ideal cast
in stone against her?
my anima still wants love
from me, yet twists on proverbial
dime
coats were rejected
colors negated, unflown
prisoner of tumble town
chained like a queen
a shanty wish disregard
so no wings, air of nonesuch
grace barrio color to fly
in my mind, sleeping
mariachis playing loud,
my anima rescued me
real, such desert here
just my shivering id
skinned seal, bad memory
still hopeful still here
surely mi anima mi alma
will grant my dying
wish
I am the traitor of my anima
Aug 25, 2018
Aug 25, 2018 at 8:36 PM UTC
*how this came and come to be,
from gone to come to gone rediscovered but unreleased,
a passage thematic that birthed
fully formed, formal in its inception,
contented in its first appearance and
its primary coincident deception
who wrote this? not me? could not be!
yet a scented hint of
eau d’familiarité
suggests that I may have
inadvertently
plagiarized
myself
this old poem mine,
we certifiably have never met,
but nonesuch a hail fellow met,
that upon our (re?) acquaintance,
the heavens marked the occasion with
hail and neither of us deemed it strange
so we well recall our ancestor’s words*
”there is nothing new under the sun”
adding our brand new imprimatur
”not even June or the Moon or other iconic loons”
*we may have borrowed from the insights,
recollecting what happened to us when separated at birth,
envisioning like the prophets of yore what was implanted
long before we remembered it well
upon its birthday
our intertwined twinning
fate befallen*
postscript
**quaking heart, trembling pointer
dawning and dying
simultaneous
neither tissue, cell, molecule,
i am but a composite of
letters, alpha bits and bets,
recirculated songs and tunes born
like me,
compromised, bridged,
newly un and recovered,
lengthy and unabridged,
my appearance faulty,
my eyes ****** ruddy and red,
my fingered tips blend and bleed
words acquired, words invented,
marching before me,
old lands recaptured,
new ones set free
take and give -
there’s no difference -
intimation, initiation,
all
bring me home
to where my boundaries begin**
<•>
this one, for the ladies who loved its
predecessor
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2367267/the-temple-of-you/
Apr 8, 2018
Apr 8, 2018 at 1:45 PM UTC
Accepting the truth might cost your physical life
and if it doesn't, you might soon wish it had
by the time it's done with your wife
my daughters don't talk to me
they think I'm bad
now I'm free
*
that hurts a lot
but not nearly as much
as would the pain of their lot
when the dead in Y'shua are raised
for I live not the lie that ignores nonesuch
just to gain mammon and eyes that are glazed
Sep 16, 2010
Sep 16, 2010 at 11:14 PM UTC
There’s a guy I know
Who’s into spirits,
And not the liquid kind.
He stares sidelong at the world,
Twists his head from side to side.
Imagine what he might find.
Vampires drink wine in Soho,
Sipping from fluted necks
In late night **** stores.
Werewolves run Hyde park ragged,
Robed in riches turned to rags,
If only in the lunar mind.
Police pigs snuffling
Through street trash,
Hunting for him shaped treats.
Televisions watching
His living room and recording
Names and faces of all his kind.
The media he scorns,
Puppet masters pulling strings
For their puppet masters.
The government and the media
Are in it together he opines,
Waving a rag with that in mind.
Aliens control the government,
Sinking sinuous senses
Through simian skulls;
Prodding, poking, pulling
Political factions to provoke
A return of the fleet they left behind.
Codes in hoods hide in churches,
Linking mathematical shapes
To chain centuries of history;
Statues wink and leer at
Myopic armchair men and women
Hunting for the doom of mankind.
Millions of rubes bought over
Shop counters using nonesuch
To sell their souls for trinkets;
Illuminati design adverts,
Flashing commercials;
****** for the public in mind.
Big name pharmaceutical
Selling death at a point
For the sake of profit over parent;
Buying stats to lie to the mass,
Doctors demanding dummies
Despite the way the stars aligned.
Taken for a ride,
We queue with tickets in hand
Waiting for our turn on the rails.
Lie on lie on lie.
He sleeps with one eye on the sky.
Tracking cameras on a road sign.
This guy I know,
He thinks too much.
I don’t mind.
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 4:02 PM UTC
summer had slipped away
but the days still had sunshine clinging to the fading trees
and 'neath one such white picket fence copper colored oak
she lay in the cool cool shade
with the magic of her momentary grace
with the delicate beauty of her face
and gave me back all my summer days
wrapped up in one of her smiles
we ran hand in hand in winter fishing town
we had been laughing sweetly over some nonesuch thing
and our joy was a beauty to behold
could have warmed the world with the love laughter shared
with the heat of the hearts beating
with the magic of her momentary grace
all the delicate and lovely beauty of her face
winters eve
found her in my arms
never could have known just what
wonderful things the world can hold
till you find yourself in the gift of loves tender kiss
could have warmed the world
with all i found in her tender eyes
we made our way back to our white picket fence oak
now bare with winters hand
stood neath her spread branches
kissing in the moonlight
her momentary grace
and all her sweet beautiful face
could warm the world with her heart
even on winters eve
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 2:45 PM UTC
It's half past midnight
And you're warm to touch
My hands, cold on your chest
And my lips wet on your neck like nonesuch.
Mar 18, 2020
Mar 18, 2020 at 3:02 PM UTC
Will is a wish that your birth charges you with. There is a quartet of letters given to each generation, a formless trinket tossed around the human flame like some universal kumbaya that always had a face. We could learn a lot from where were aren’t if we let ourselves imagine it. Dreams of what it looks like when I poke out the eyes of my love. Nothing begging something, the body of a bonfire song. Is it not each flick of the tongue? Is it not a federation of sounds finally reaching accord? Hurt like hell to learn when I should stop asking questions.
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 4:14 PM UTC
Ｅach day in cotton gloves, the artist works
Ｐerfecting gorgeous flowers made of silk
Ｈarmoniously hued and ever perked
Ｅternal, unlike fresh ones of their ilk
Ｍeandering back home 'midst evening gloom
Ｅncounters in a sad neglected park
Ｒetiring, non-attention seeking bloom
Ａnd feels a stirring of compassion spark
Ｌet's drop her wooly mitt and stoops to touch
Ｂeneath the leaves, dropped petals slowly fade
Ｌamenting tarnished loveliness nonesuch
Ｏbliquely for a moment two lives braid
Ｏffhand there is no purpose for a glove
Ｍortality is tantamount to love.
Mar 8, 2018
Mar 8, 2018 at 9:44 PM UTC
They never had and I don't think they could ever again. It's not just the parts of my body that I use to tread on, to continue on foot when the rest of me can't catch up. Everything has outgrown such commodities; my legs, my hands, my neck and head. I got taller with a straighter back and a chin raised high to show that no fear runs through these thriving veins - a fear that is nonesuch to the person that rises with the waves of orange and pink, that pour onto the wide unknown above but is restless when the night spills black ink with specks of white. The clothes on my back have ripped at the seams with a tear so loud and big, the hands that once cared couldn't sew it back together. The silver needle with the sharp tip, pricked at their hungry, outstretched hands saying, "Don't touch because the wounds you left are deep enough". This head so full yet so empty. These old shoes don't fit like they used to because they have been tugged on, the heels crushed by another, and their once tied laces frayed with the tip split open like a mouth with no tongue.
I cannot give you more when I have nothing of my worth that I want to lose.
Oct 17, 2017
Oct 17, 2017 at 10:39 PM UTC
I weep, I burn, I desire, I perish,
much to liars' betrayers' and deceivers' cherish.
Oh I ask, with what face shall you face the purity?
with what heart will you feel the love?
your ersatz eyes cannot see the truth,
see how they failed you? See how you have failed you.
My kindness, affection bear fruits nonesuch,
which neither Adam nor Eve can touch
let alone the abomination in the name of men.
but they won't chortle or smirk, for
Like the phoenix, I shall fall only to rise...
against lows and highs into the sky.
Though some has been lost, much abides
life is a gift, and I tell no lies.
And when I die I pray this be told,
here beneath lies a beautiful kind soul.
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 6:44 AM UTC
A Tolstory was never for me
Nor an ounce of Frost on my fingertips found
In the complexities of Estlin’s dreams, I am
Not a man without my own Wit
Or Dunbarred from uncaging this, my own sound
Only to be let loose in a Field of youthful green
No I am nonesuch of these or be Twain
I am a storm to be you see
And here I've just been Dickinson around
Feb 7, 2019
Feb 7, 2019 at 9:18 PM UTC
Nonesuch is the beauty of my love . Ref 025
A poem written By Philip.
10th October 2018.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nonesuch is the beauty of my love.
On a scale of one to ten. I say a ten.
Nonesuch is the depth of my love.
Everlasting and eternal friend of mine
Such it was in life , now it is in death.
Universally when a man loves a woman
Critically it’s understood, she can do no wrong.
Having a nonesuch depth of love she was true
It is no secret , what our Universal God can do.
So what he’s done for others he’ll do for you.
Though one gets tired of worn out phrases
Happiness between two lovers ? Essential.
Essential that’s what makes our love nonesuch
Because our love was without any equal.
Essential that’s what made our love nonesuch.
And for six years we made vows to love eternal
Understanding our tenure was time sensitive
Touring the world knowing our time was limited
You never put off until tomorrow.Do it today.
Oh many young lovers don’t appreciate time.
For procrastination is ever the thief of time
My love for Barbara ,well there was None such
Years of unconditional love graced a later life
Later life when we’d served for seventy winters
Ongoing life ,following dramas , following life.
Very happy was our constant daily relationship
Earth Angel listen to my constant prayers to thee.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In remembrance of my Darling Barbara.
Written by Philip. October 10th 2018.
Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 10:59 AM UTC
After how many years I've been trying,
I'm still here standing and fighting,
And when I'm seeing you clearly,
It makes my heart thump vividly.
Also, my ambition and inspiration in life,
Is to love and adore you but not in strife,
But in a serious and thorough way,
Like there's no tomorrow and yesterday.
Even though you don't love and care me much,
I will still attempt to be the one and be a nonesuch,
The one who will calm you and cherish,
And will never ever relinquish.
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 6:40 AM UTC
Born, I wasn't made for the riches,
They've forgotten my mother's stitches.
Borne to a home built by exiguity,
Hope to stay in for a brevity.
At a loss of hope I pondered:
What much is there to live for, I wondered.
But vengeance gathers in a bunch,
So I opened every door of snobby nonesuch.
Crawled in and sat in their hole,
Only to be withered away like a crooked soul.
Into the air I streamed,
Up into the atmosphere it seemed.
Farther from home,
I drift into a black roam.
Spacious enough to be alone,
I have found my tone.
I've finally known myself,
To fit perfectly in this akward shelf.
I was a misfit,
Too ignorant too quit it.
Played like a puppet,
By the wealthy culprit.
Justice is my unruly mission,
And they'll take watch of my disturbed exhibition.
Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 8:56 AM UTC
Gentle tidings cross the trail and sail and weep for human touch
celestial signals, nonesuch
Rings in ivory and black and cold
It's sound contained the lies we were told
Staid mediums that move within
Majestic undercurrents will begin
contrived requeium, your truths are vast
Returning loss in a committal mass
Jan 2, 2018
Jan 2, 2018 at 8:22 AM UTC