"nurseries" poems
How many chairs have we parked ourselves on,
side by side
in these 6,205 days of marriage?
Side by side at our wedding reception
principals’ offices
school graduations
courtrooms
funerals
new baby nurseries
counselors’ offices
new cars and
bars.
In lawn chairs
pews
rockers
couches
backseats and
airline seats.
The size and shapes of the imprints
we leave behind
changing over time.
The faces of others seated with us coming and going.
Always, we have tried to leave a trail of love,
like the slime of slugs and snails.
And for each other, an extra measure.
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 6:32 PM UTC
O make me a mask and a wall to shut from your spies
Of the sharp, enamelled eyes and the spectacled claws
**** and rebellion in the nurseries of my face,
Gag of dumbstruck tree to block from bare enemies
The bayonet tongue in this undefended prayerpiece,
The present mouth, and the sweetly blown trumpet of lies,
Shaped in old armour and oak the countenance of a dunce
To shield the glistening brain and blunt the examiners,
And a tear-stained widower grief drooped from the lashes
To veil belladonna and let the dry eyes perceive
Others betray the lamenting lies of their losses
By the curve of the **** mouth or the laugh up the sleeve.
4.5k
Our paths are paved here
with smooth black asphalt
lined with s-cut stones
so we won't have to touch
ground
between our semi-detached
houses
and our small fenced gardens.
Our paths lead to nurseries
and to school
and a medium sized supermarket
and they are all flanked with well kept
bushes and lawns
This is Suburbia Danica
Our paths are made like circles
so we stay
Our children don't get lost
and our happiness doesn't
escape.
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 3:21 PM UTC
#A year older, a year wiser
A wisdom always in the making
Nourished by experience
Vitaminized by failures
Strengthened by aspirations
Built on the foundation of hope!
Year after year
Brick after brick
Wiser
Cemented by determination
Watered by dreams
Cracked by blows
Repaired by a mason
Working round the clock
Anointing healing!
Get up man.
*You are a year older
But a year wiser*
And the fruits of this wisdom
Often unseen
Oftener unknown
Ripen inside
And then no more just yours
Scatter in the surround
Beget nurseries of wisdom
Building, vitaminizing, strengthening
Repairing healing
Your foundation
Your hope!#
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 10:39 AM UTC
Everybody said we were erstwhile, rather quaint
and could never pay our back rent ?
You listen to the silence of seashells
I grow colchicums for nurseries.
I often inquired what was your favourite animal
You always replied "Ursine"
something to do with Bears ?
Perhaps we should voyage to Newfoundland
and see them face to face,
recalling the word "Reseverez Vite"
Would that be any quicker ?
and dry your eyes
I love talking to you in the cyan light.
Often I thought a cup of Guayacanera
could tide our differences.
Apr 24, 2012
Apr 24, 2012 at 5:18 PM UTC
Love is a flower open to the sun,
Hate is a cavern, a hole, craven,
Black, empty, a dank drowning,
Under light. Love is one season,
Hate is transitory. Love is eternal,
Of vast nebulas, to outer reaches
In galaxy are nurseries with stars
Being born, light, alive with light.
Love is the lasting of conquerors,
The first line, defense, existence,
Love takes all in one communion,
Breaking the dark as the morning
Sun. Love is conundrum, love IS.
Hate is a construct, the blotched
That bleeds where life is seeding,
Rot better to cut, spoil unneeded,
Hate will come to nothing, for life
Is love, love is all and everything.
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 2:57 PM UTC
My archetypal anima
Could dream a billion dreams
Yet none elucidate my psyche’s
Shadow self-esteem
It yearns to be made whole again
Detaching from the soma
Yet cannot mend the mandalas
That fracture its persona
From the superego servant
Of unconsciousness collective
To the individuation
Silent tyrant introspective
Still projecting as the pedagogue
The hero and the saint
But the mystic rebel overlord’s
This portrait that I paint
For I’m an evil genius author
Penning nurseries of rhymes
I am the psychopath symbology
Just read between the lines
Oct 26, 2017
Oct 26, 2017 at 3:21 PM UTC
Monica watched Benedict
practise Judo
with her brothers
on the grass
by the fence.
She watched
from her bedroom window.
She had parted
the drawn curtains
with her fingers
enough to see
without being seen.
She cheered him on
in an urgent voice.
She would have gone down
and cheered him on
from the sidelines,
but she was still
in her nightwear
and by the time
she had a wash
and dressed
they would be gone.
Watching him
made her excited;
it was a physical thing,
something she could
almost point to,
sense and touch
with her fingers.
She stared down at him,
watched his every move.
Sometimes he would
take on both boys
at a time and defeat
them both, other times
he took them
one at a time
and they would end up
on their backs
on the grass.
Wish he would put me
on the grass, she whispered
to the pane of glass,
touch me
as he does them.
She couldn’t describe
how he made her feel.
Whom could she ask?
Her mother would
scorn her
for even asking
such a question.
She wished she had
a sister to ask,
but all she had
was three brothers.
There was cheering
from outside, Benedict
had fallen. He had
miscalculated a move
and fallen on his back.
There was laughter
as he rose and dusted
himself off.
Oh, she murmured.
She put a hand
to her lips.
His head turned
towards the window;
she backed away.
Had he seen her?
Heard her voice?
She moved back
to the window
and peered out.
They were practising again.
But this time
it was karate,
they were breaking
pieces of wood
with the side
of their hands.
She wished
she could be out there.
Near him,
sensing him close to her.
He came most Saturdays
to be with her brothers.
They worked in the week
at the nurseries
half mile away.
Sometimes she was up early
and caught him
before her brothers were out
and she talked with him.
Once he took her
to see the peacocks,
riding on their bikes
to get there.
She had wanted him
to kiss her, but he hadn’t.
So near to her,
yet she daren’t
reach out
and touch him, that day.
She stood at the window
and stared at him.
He had taken off
his jacket and was
in tee shirt and jeans.
They fought each other now,
their blows barely touching,
the karate touches
merely skimming the skin.
Odd this sensation
flowing through me,
she said, this expanding
desire within.
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 1:46 AM UTC
They said that the breeze
Told them nothing but miseries
They said that the grass
Inhaled nothing but nurseries
They said, “We seek you for tragedies,
And we want our tears to pick your lyers;
we made you dreams of catastrophic allegories,
and we want our grief to mourn over your prejudice
of undesired futures.”
They claimed that they were conjured of
Passion and mysteries
Of knowledge other than blasphemies
They said, “We chant you for the last morning tea
We desire you for your ever-after evening satires,
Stay, and keep us for the crystal wires
Of your undying lyres.”
They said so as desired and as deprived,
Yet if they are so afraid to lose
Why do they seek in the first place?
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 6:46 AM UTC
Why do you have to take my only need?
Do I have to bleed down the river
for you to not see?
My corridors are filled with pain covered walls
and shock induced traumas.
Drowned emotions in cast iron tubs,
rust through my life
at the bottom of the ocean
I know not but temptation and contemplation,
it only bounces around inside
like a drug store explosion.
We start to walk down the
mirrored lined hallways the wrong way
I mean our eyes glare off
each other the wrong way.
I mean, "what in the **** am I trying to say?
You just don't get it, do you?
I mean, it goes right through you,
I think I may have a rusty
***** loose or maybe you do.
Your agony runs through my veins,
conversing memories, explaining nurseries and
even a midnight summer's wet dream.
So let me explain this to you,
in layman's terms,
the ****** broke a long
time ago..
but you seemed to have missed
your period and the point.
I know I am not only one,
I know about all the others.
I mean.
You bounced around those guy's mattresses
like you are on some gymnastic's trampoline.
Then come home late at night
like a ninja, like I wouldn't even see.
I am not a blind man walking around with a stick,
the true sinister gaze you gave me
is like sinister maze inside my brain.
But I solved this 300 piece puzzle
that you left on the nook
and I didn't even have to open the book.
I think it is time
to close this unbridged chapter in my life
with no unadulterated bookmarks
and bounce around to the end
where I know the words
which will make me a whole lot happier
and much more content
Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 9:01 PM UTC
West of nowhere, East of nothing,
directly in the middle; an anomaly has been born.
A galaxy in her own right, a star in her true form.
In stellar nurseries compressed the matter and frequency
which made the core of her being and the corona of her beauty.
To the left is void, to the right is eternity,
directly ahead is he; both together in the middle.
Binary stars bound by heliocentric law,
all else revolving in their gravitational well.
They make love over and with the earth
as tadpoles fly through paisley skies,
bound on by iridescent solar winds procured by her painted lips;
circling a black hole in which all of everything is the beginning of nothing.
On the event horizon is spoken the law, stretched and pinched into pureness, eternally devoured into oblivion.
Which the sweet flavor of is relished by the infinite being of darkness that stretches ever on.
Only to reappear in the farthest reaches of the universe,
the whole of the law spread out into the cosmos.
Her name is Andromeda, and what she wilt, she does.
93 93/93
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 2:57 AM UTC
the cold fire of orion pulls me in --
a gravitational tide;
drowning in colour, in stellar fire --
i am gazing up at it:
an ant beholding mount everest
the fiery heavens are all-encompassing
with ancient flickering fireflies & dark matter & stellar nurseries
nestled in the breast of the great hunter himself
guarding, watching; stark & silent
& i alone bear witness.
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 4:57 PM UTC
She sighs as she settles into the image of star-crossed lovers, fated across a swirling galaxy. She feels the insistent pulsing of his radiation through the hardness of space -- each inch as barren as the last, as clear as glass, a medium rich for the communication of romance. Today he hit her with caring fists, after another of his imaginary lists. Boys, men, women, girls: in his mind she has had them all, attracted by her deep cleavage, by her round behind. She bites her lip to bleed again, to feel that need again, to be the absolute rock-bottom of someone else’s reckless devotion. It excites her to be so repellently attractive, she calls to him with crooked fingers and pretends that the smell of her last conquest lingers. She makes love to him by pulling his **** to her while pushing his face away with snarling fingers. He can’t hide the scratches there. In her bruises welter the endless depths of star nurseries, nebulae, and out of them new madness will be borne.
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 11:31 AM UTC
Wake me when the Elephant Ears grow tall , when the first red rose comes to call , as the mesmerizing scent of Gardenia fills the air , when the Butterfly bushes receive their host in Spring ...
Come to my door when the Crape Myrtles stand glorious , as the Peach trees blossom , when songbirds of every shape and brilliant song prepare their nurseries , as the Pink Begonias undertake their beautiful Summer journey ....
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 9:59 PM UTC
Frozen fresh water
drifting across the ocean
melting in due time
................................
The reed bed is lush
as the stream trickles gently
mayflies dance with fish
.............................................
It can show your guilt
beading is a tell tale sign
confessions in sweat
..........................................
Waters of sorrow
in tears that fall from her eyes
then wet her flushed cheeks
...........................................
Oh Bromeliads
such nurseries for tadpoles
who do dwell within
........................................
The sound of the sea
the crashing waves on shingle
oh sing natures wild
...........................................
The pitter patter
watching water trickle down
gazing at the rain
..........................................
A life protector
the bringer of all Earth's life
maker of the egg
......................................
Her burden runs miles
dusty roads does she travel
water for mother
...........................
Poison in rivers
fish bobbing dead on surface
such a waste of life
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
By NeonSolaris
© 2013 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 12:12 PM UTC
*Daisies billowing in the wind
Callouses on her broken hands
Peaceful plots and naïve nurseries bloom
And every blossom withers
She once left her home for someone new
Freedom forced her heart to move
She ran past dry dirt byways
As she burned through city blocks
Somewhere searching they’d find
The remnants of flight she left behind
Bristling in the last fall breeze she fractures
Long white wisps fall down her back
Her feathers take to the last bit of wind
Her full heart is breaking
For the bittersweet kiss of mortality
And for all those who will forever
Hold tight to the fallen tendrils
She first let fly under the old willow
They’ll visit her there one day
With her lost feathers in their hair*
Apr 25, 2012
Apr 25, 2012 at 6:59 PM UTC
It escalated rapidly
Sending arcing sparks racing in different directions...
Between the whoosh and the whistle,
Shrill and omnipresent,
Was an anticipation
This emotion,
That permeated the sky
And all the stars that joined to observe the spectacle
As a distant hum began to echo out across the void,
The cold empty darkness,
Began to heat up,
Excited for the upcoming eruption of varying colors
That were sorely missed amongst the monotony
Of the blackest of spaces...
...All went Silent as the world expanded
In a bang it was announced that a star had given birth
Sending fireworks out into the cosmos to deliver the wonderful news
That a new generation had begotten a stellar nursery
Full of healthy little twinkles
Shining their light,
Because in the universe,
Even the dark is afraid of the dark
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 8:06 PM UTC
Benumbed I lie on the floor
Staring ferociously on the ceiling
Flecks of sunlight playing their
Daedelian games.
Wish I were one of them
Leaking into the rooms of strangers:
Lonely, catladies, family kitchens, new-born baby nurseries.
I would be welcomed everywhere.
Not likely now, not likely ever.
Nov 13, 2017
Nov 13, 2017 at 8:16 AM UTC
Love is a flower open to the sun,
Hate is a cavern, a hole, craven,
Black, empty, a dank drowning,
Under light. Love is one season,
Hate is transitory. Love is eternal,
Of vast nebulas, to outer reaches
In galaxy are nurseries with stars
Being born, light, alive with light.
Love is the lasting of conquerors,
The first line, defense, existence,
Love takes all in one communion,
Breaking the dark as the morning
Sun. Love is conundrum, love IS.
Hate is a construct, the blotched
That bleeds where life is seeding,
Rot better to cut, spoil unneeded,
Hate will come to nothing, for life
Is love, love is all and everything.
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 2:25 PM UTC
~
Love is a flower open to the sun,
Hate is a cavern, a hole, craven,
Black, empty, a dank drowning,
Under light. Love is one season,
Hate is transitory. Love is eternal,
Of vast nebulas, to outer reaches
In galaxy are nurseries with stars
Being born, light, alive with light.
Love is the lasting of conquerors,
The first line, defense, existence,
Love takes all in one communion,
Breaking the dark as the morning
Sun. Love is conundrum, love IS.
Hate is a construct, the blotched
That bleeds where life is seeding,
Rot better to cut, spoil unneeded,
Hate will come to nothing, for life
Is love, love is all and everything.
Mar 14, 2017
Mar 14, 2017 at 6:29 PM UTC
It started with an S. Humbly mumbling yes no maybe i dont know oh **** vertigo should i let go. my brain was blasted, a cocktail of chemicals and superfluidious ether. The push pull ying yang fung shui grabs the heat seeking missle and grabs the brain, attracts sychronized vertacies but the magnitism flips as imaginary consequence givesway to repulsion of the imaginary sense. Pulsars pulsating sending shock waves through space time highways a terrible silence is heard then music then woah. Gravity wells staring me down warping and warming WARNING particle collision is immenent a stellar nurersy might be born of this hyperspace supernova scintilating energies might synchronize for the bonding of bodies creating a binary star system carefully dancing and explosivly romancing or it could be too much the system overloads entropy wins hot matter turned cold a black hole is formed.
Complicated intracacies to be sure. I think a caphonany was born if only i could phrophasize and figure out where my head flipped out and if there would be any imminent fallout. Wise to withhold or a missed chance to experience an amazing incredible moment where time and space may have seperated and two bodies joined in between the seams. Just amazing.
Dec 25, 2016
Dec 25, 2016 at 10:07 AM UTC
Love is a flower open to the sun,
Hate is a cavern, a hole, craven,
Black, empty, a dank drowning,
Under light. Love is one season,
Hate is transitory. Love is eternal,
Of vast nebulas, to outer reaches
In galaxy are nurseries with stars
Being born, light, alive with light.
Love is the lasting of conquerors,
The first line, defense, existence,
Love takes all in one communion,
Breaking the dark as the morning
Sun. Love is conundrum, love IS.
Hate is a construct, the blotched
That bleeds where life is seeding,
Rot better to cut, spoil unneeded,
Hate will come to nothing, for life
Is love, love is all and everything.
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 10:19 PM UTC
Hammer attack surgeries,
Farmer controlled nurseries,
A Llama themed bakery
And a duck.
Oct 29, 2022
Oct 29, 2022 at 7:35 AM UTC