"outspread" poems
At length their long kiss severed, with sweet smart:
And as the last slow sudden drops are shed
From sparkling eaves when all the storm has fled,
So singly flagged the pulses of each heart.
Their bosoms sundered, with the opening start
Of married flowers to either side outspread
From the knit stem; yet still their mouths, burnt red,
Fawned on each other where they lay apart.
Sleep sank them lower than the tide of dreams,
And their dreams watched them sink, and slid away.
Slowly their souls swam up again, through gleams
Of watered light and dull drowned waifs of day;
Till from some wonder of new woods and streams
He woke, and wondered more: for there she lay.
30k
The steeples are white in the wild moonlight,
And the trees have a silver glare;
Past the chimneys high see the vampires fly,
And the harpies of upper air,
That flutter and laugh and stare.
For the village dead to the moon outspread
Never shone in the sunset's gleam,
But grew out of the deep that the dead years keep
Where the rivers of madness stream
Down the gulfs to a pit of dream.
A chill wind blows through the rows of sheaves
In the meadows that shimmer pale,
And comes to twine where the headstones shine
And the ghouls of the churchyard wail
For harvests that fly and fail.
Not a breath of the strange grey gods of change
That tore from the past its own
Can quicken this hour, when a spectral power
Spreads sleep o'er the cosmic throne,
And looses the vast unknown.
So here again stretch the vale and plain
That moons long-forgotten saw,
And the dead leap gay in the pallid ray,
Sprung out of the tomb's black maw
To shake all the world with awe.
And all that the morn shall greet forlorn,
The ugliness and the pest
Of rows where thick rise the stones and brick,
Shall some day be with the rest,
And brood with the shades unblest.
Then wild in the dark let the lemurs bark,
And the leprous spires ascend;
For new and old alike in the fold
Of horror and death are penned,
For the hounds of Time to rend.
12k
In the amber sunroom the regal canary perches,
Surveying his sun soaked kingdom from a golden throne,
Positioned just below the thick wooden rafters...
They might as well have been treetops.
The weathered oak armoire below, their immovable trunk;
The oversized tank, teeming with exotic fish, his ocean.
Through the translucent shades, the engorged sun turns orange,
And settles on the domes of the distant dragon trees.
Soon the silver haired woman, with "dust in the creases of her face,"
Will open the arched doorway, and into the sultry Moroccan air he will spring
Majestic yellow wings propelling him above the treetops,
Diving towards his vast ocean, circling between the dusty antiques,
Reveling in his glorious freedom, yet always returning,
For that is only the penultimate pleasure of every evening;
She will always call him home with the suculent scent
Of a luxurious dinner: mango, pomegranate, and papaya.
A sharp, tumbling trill disrupts his peaceful musing,
A flashing crimson streak leaves a momentary swatch,
Emanating from the open window, invading his territory and ending atop the amoire.
He refuses to look at her, intent on maintaining appearances.
She comes and goes so freely, innocent of any thoughts for me.
Feathers ruffling with discontent; jumping, leaping without direction.
Seeking the highest perch, closest to being free; only to be confined
By the bronze rods of social correctness, locked with the brass clasp of my own fear.
His little lion's heart becomes a battering ram,
Smashing against the inside of his toothpick ribcage.
Rapid fire thoughts soon dissolve in an attempt to compose
A song that is worthy of her. And so he waits, and watches her turn,
Red wings outspread, escaping back into the evening sky.
That blazing orange ball, finally sinking beneath its own weight,
And the failing strength of the mighty dragon trees,
Now merely blackened silhouettes of their former glory.
Jun 29, 2012
Jun 29, 2012 at 3:39 PM UTC
By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have reached these lands but newly
From an ultimate dim Thule—
From a wild weird clime that lieth, sublime,
Out of SPACE—out of TIME.
Bottomless vales and boundless floods,
And chasms, and caves, and Titan woods,
With forms that no man can discover
For the dews that drip all over;
Mountains toppling evermore
Into seas without a shore;
Seas that restlessly aspire,
Surging, unto skies of fire;
Lakes that endlessly outspread
Their lone waters—lone and dead,
Their still waters—still and chilly
With the snows of the lolling lily.
By the lakes that thus outspread
Their lone waters, lone and dead,—
Their sad waters, sad and chilly
With the snows of the lolling lily,—
By the mountains—near the river
Murmuring lowly, murmuring ever,—
By the gray woods,—by the swamp
Where the toad and the newt encamp,—
By the dismal tarns and pools
Where dwell the Ghouls,—
By each spot the most unholy—
In each nook most melancholy,—
There the traveller meets aghast
Sheeted Memories of the past—
Shrouded forms that start and sigh
As they pass the wanderer by—
White-robed forms of friends long given,
In agony, to the Earth—and Heaven.
For the heart whose woes are legion
’Tis a peaceful, soothing region—
For the spirit that walks in shadow
’Tis—oh, ’tis an Eldorado!
But the traveller, travelling through it,
May not—dare not openly view it;
Never its mysteries are exposed
To the weak human eye unclosed;
So wills its King, who hath forbid
The uplifting of the fringed lid;
And thus the sad Soul that here passes
Beholds it but through darkened glasses.
By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only.
Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have wandered home but newly
From this ultimate dim Thule.
4.9k
A loner that kills pain,
physical pain and for some
a drug for joy, for calmness.
Magical, as a single strike eliminates all the pain.
The loner once struck me into a deep sleep,
where I was floating, like a dream
calmness or a silent blissfulness
I don’t know what this loner made me feel
I just know that it was beautiful.
Silence, silence all over
and then a sudden interruption,
my friend’s panic stricken voice
calling me, waking me up.
Looking up I found her scared eyes,
scared, as in whether I was dead.
A fear outspread that day,
people who loved me feared the loner,
there was solidarity in their fear,
fear of losing me.
The loner was banished, once and for all.
Days passed, years passed,
pain was calmed using wrapped pills.
It never gave the calmness,
the blissfulness like the loner.
He is gone for so long now.
Today, as my body starts to quiver with pain,
I heard his voice,
a soothing voice, asking me
asking me to open the cellar
“Take me and I’ll put you out of your misery”
As I opened, I saw the loner
beautiful in blue.
I took him and all of a sudden
I found contentment in this strike after so long.
Calmness flooded in me once again,
I found happiness in this silent blissfulness.
Silence, silence all over.
But this time my sleep didn’t get interrupted,
for this time it was now and forever.
Dolo, the loner,
now I’m yours….forever.
Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 2:08 AM UTC
I remember it was cold and quiet. We stood up beneath the scattering stars.
Silently staring at the landscape outspread in front of us, where the mountain touched the sky.
Losing count on the steps taken, you wondered how many dreams townspeople had to reach the summit tower seen from afar;
Spreading lights randomly with no purpose to guide. Little yet arrogant. Like a candlestick being put on the top of the world, accidentally.
Or maybe, incidentally placed to embody the messiah for those who would discover it that way — which might be peculiarly irrational.
Despite the lame fact, it still mesmerized you. I just knew the moment your starry eyes were seen in the dim night. And out of the blue, it captivated me too.
We sneaked from the despotic night, releasing laughs from the deepest and most untouched alley in our lungs. Our fears were freed.
Nonchalant towards the thing ahead of us, even to the time that felt prematurely withered.
"I remember once this priest brought hope to our house, and we just followed him since then", you said. That’s how you told me that miracle wasn’t the thing that kept us living, but hopes that enlightened.
Unyielding lost in the most chaotic ecstasy I have ever encountered. It became that moment when a knock on the door wouldn’t be able to break our reverie.
Modest. Humble.
We then walked unafraid through the open door that led us to the home where the sun rises.
Aug 14, 2022
Aug 14, 2022 at 9:26 AM UTC
An Allegory
On the wide level of a mountain’s head,
(I knew not where, but ’twas some faery place)
Their pinions, ostrich-like, for sails outspread,
Two lovely children run an endless race,
A sister and a brother!
This far outstripped the other;
Yet ever runs she with reverted face,
And looks and listens for the boy behind:
For he, alas! is blind!
O’er rough and smooth with even step he passed,
And knows not whether he be first or last.
2.8k
Once a death was enough to awake the sleeping souls,
Now bodies outspread in the gore,
Some snivel, some celebrate the victory,
Victory of won the war,
War; which is making us deadpan!
By: Nida Mahmoed
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 10:02 AM UTC
I sat beneath a willow tree,
Where water falls and calls;
While fancies upon fancies solaced me,
Some true, and some were false.
Who set their heart upon a hope
That never comes to pass,
Droop in the end like fading heliotrope,
The sun's wan looking-glass.
Who set their will upon a whim
Clung to through good and ill,
Are wrecked alike whether they sink or swim,
Or hit or miss their will.
All things are vain that wax and wane,
For which we waste our breath;
Love only doth not wane and is not vain,
Love only outlives death.
A singing lark rose toward the sky,
Circling he sang amain;
He sang, a speck scarce visible sky-high,
And then he sank again.
A second like a sunlit spark
Flashed singing up his track;
But never overtook that foremost lark,
And songless fluttered back.
A hovering melody of birds
Haunted the air above;
They clearly sang contentment without words,
And youth and joy and love.
O silvery weeping willow tree
With all leaves shivering,
Have you no purpose but to shadow me
Beside this rippled spring?
On this first fleeting day of Spring,
For Winter is gone by,
And every bird on every quivering wing
Floats in a sunny sky;
On this first Summer-like soft day,
While sunshine steeps the air,
And every cloud has gat itself away,
And birds sing everywhere.
Have you no purpose in the world
But thus to shadow me
With all your tender drooping twigs unfurled,
O weeping willow tree?
With all your tremulous leaves outspread
Betwixt me and the sun,
While here I loiter on a mossy bed
With half my work undone;
My work undone, that should be done
At once with all my might;
For after the long day and lingering sun
Comes the unworking night.
This day is lapsing on its way,
Is lapsing out of sight;
And after all the chances of the day
Comes the resourceless night.
The weeping-willow shook its head
And stretched its shadow long;
The west grew crimson, the sun smouldered red,
The birds forbore a song.
Slow wind sighed through the willow leaves,
The ripple made a moan,
The world drooped murmuring like a thing that grieves;
And then I felt alone.
I rose to go, and felt the chill,
And shivered as I went;
Yet shivering wondered, and I wonder still,
What more that willow meant;
That silvery weeping-willow tree
With all leaves shivering,
Which spent one long day overshadowing me
Beside a spring in Spring.
2.4k
The parrot, screeching, flew out into the darkness,
Circled three times above the upturned faces
With a great whir of brilliant outspread wings,
And then returned to stagger on her finger.
She bowed and smiled, eliciting applause. . .
The property man hated her ***** birds.
But it had taken years--yes, years--to train them,
To shoulder flags, strike bells by tweaking strings,
Or climb sedately little flights of stairs.
When they were stubborn, she tapped them with a wand,
And her eyes glittered a little under the eyebrows.
The red one flapped and flapped on a swinging wire;
The little white ones winked round yellow eyes.
2k
Yehudit lay on her stomach,
chin propped on her hands,
staring over the pond, she
called their lake. Ducks were
there, floating like small boats
on the water’s skin. Naaman
lay beside her his head leaning
on his hand. Last time they had
laid there they had just made
love in the dense woods behind.
Early evening that had been,
moonbeams played on the
surface of the water, the night
cool. She had been concerned
of her mother’s rebuke because
of the lateness. The *** would
have been beyond her mother’s
grasp. You used to fish here, she
said, turning to look at him. I got
bored, he said. I used to swim here
as a child, she said, until one of
the gamekeepers saw me and
informed my father. What did
your mother say to that? he asked.
Father didn’t tell her, he told me
not to swim there again. I missed
that then, he said, smiling. Yes, you
did, she said. It was hot that summer,
I wanted to cool down. Maybe it
was like a baptism? he said. In the
**** she said. Maybe it was a new
kind of baptism, he said. It nothing
like that. It was innocent fun, she said.
He touched her hand by the pond’s
edge. Her fingers squeezed his. Her eyes
smiled. The sunlight filtered through the
branches overhead, glimpses of blue sky
reflected on the water. That evening we
made love back there, you said you loved
me, she said, did you mean that? Yes, of
course, he said. It was special to me, she
said, not just the making of love of you
and me, but the evening and the moon
and the stars and the smell of you and me
and the flowery smell of it all. He watched
as a duck took off from the pond, its wings
outspread, breaking the air, and she looking
at the pond’s surface with her far away stare.
Jul 7, 2013
Jul 7, 2013 at 3:48 PM UTC
*Ragged cliffs loom o'er the shore-
as waves punish the rocks below -
"Deafening",
is their roar*..........
*A fleece, a blanket, of mist...and fog,
muffles the 'pleas'
From the 'sailing ships'.....
moored in the salty seas*
*Out from the mist...
alone.........she comes-
"A battle waits.... to be won"
says this maiden.....from Avalon*
*With arms outspread--
and opened palms.......
She 'chants'...for the sea to lie "still.... and calm"...
says the maiden.......from Avalon*
"*Oh God of Nature....of all men -
I beseech thee..........
To shield these men of gallantry".....
'Chants'...the maiden from Avalon*
*As she speaks.....
the waves subside.....silent, is their roar
The solar orb....no longer hides....
As the brave doth come ashore*.
*Is it magic, myth, or simply......lore?
perhaps, a tale not told before-
But....... when all was said, and done......
"Blessed be the maiden"*.....
"From Avalon"
r.riddle- 10-29-2016
Oct 29, 2016
Oct 29, 2016 at 7:42 PM UTC
Where the church bell gapes
at its golden discs gain the airy steep.
Where the eagle deposits its
majestic soar, a mass of feather and
talon--Empyrean's doormat.
Where Icarus stroked wax wing
through the sepia ambiance of his
mind.
Where the hermit broke 'neath after
decade of reclusion.
Where star discloseth foci to
dime the dead of space.
Where striven peace's tangled root
whistles extolling.
Where an aerodynamic corpus
unsheathed horizon, parting palpebras....
surging the seen, unseen.
All's apparent aqua blue, transparent
***** outspread portent pregnant of
blessing.
O sky--every soul's once-over,
immaculate conceptions...ex nihilo.
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 11:26 PM UTC
On the gentle slope of a green and waving hill, vibrant with the life of spring, flowers fall from the outspread limbs of trees, an ocean in their sound, and fall gently to the earth, soft as a mothers kiss, upon a child's tender brow. The wild flowers are spread out among the grasses, bright spots of changing color, amidst the flowing green, waving in the springs gentle breeze, light glowing through the blades, shining in the sun, the scent of life and growth and change arising, slow and overpowering as the years to come, as ages gone. Underneath the spreading trees, their leaves give shade and succor to those who fear the light and hide from its revealing rays. A fox rustles through the underbrush, coat burning orange, a rushing flame in the green light, filtering down from the canopy above, dim in its softened form. Ahead a hare, leaning down to drink from a cool and quiet pool, looks up as a ray of light, pure and golden, falls from the heavens, as the light of God himself, admitted by the wind rushing, parting the woven branches, above, beyond the trees. The leaves spin and sparkle, sighing also in the breeze, and so a harmony ensues sighing leaves and rushing wind, in that tranquil, quiet place. Dust falling, innumerable motes of glowing light, they drift downwards, minuscule, as snow made all of light, dim and golden, like the shining sands of heaven, swept down to fall to earth, and dust the earth with heavens bounty, and let its light sparkle for a moment, an age, in the quiet of the world. Far above the wooded hill, beyond the rustling grasses, and the colorful blossoms in their midst, high in the cold of the infinite heavens, and the currents of the flowing wind, an eagle soars, and so in mastery of the world below, the world above, does swoop to take unwary prey, in claws cruel in their curved dimensions, and the sharpness of their edge. But below in the world of quiet peace, though blood may drip from pure sky, and so enrich the flattered earth, all is yet still, and calm prevails, and if blood does fall, sprinkled from the heavens as a cruel rain, macabre in its crimson gleam and scent of severed life, it falls unknown, unmarked, to soak into the warm earth, receiving as it gives, and so is added once more to the cycle of life at the beginning, from which in time new blood will flow, through veins new and delicate, frail with the tender youth of new things begun, and so new life be born from death.
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 4:13 PM UTC
measured in
correlations
as four
cubits makes him
to me is equated with
the length of outspread arms
of a woman awaiting
him.
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 4:59 AM UTC
Beneath the
burning snowflakes
of my consciousness
I stand
ensconced in ice
a statue in
your garden
all the verdant,
living treasures
I have given
around you,
burst from
my womb
in volcanic fibers
molten lava
of puce
of ochre-toned
vibrancy
that pierces
through the strata
of our own
personal history
archeological insights
of who we have been
love in frequencies
that once
met their destination
echoes of fire
falling in viscous
bands of liquid
upon my outspread fingers,
uncaught
You
once loved me in parts
My snowflowers
will stay with us
but I will not
the tenth
of me that you see
is already disappearing
worn down
from your stance
of constant dark
not the dark of richly
pungent mineral layers
of blackest black
but lackluster
in taste and texture
no match
for my warrioress heart
For deep inside
this clear glass casing
are rivulets
flash floods
about to break
the gelid frost surface
bursting through
in cracks
like end-of-winter
river rushes
like seismic explosions
sulphur-rocked
My wild totem
is emerging
antlers glowing from
my crown
They are clashing
rustling up trees
whipping winds of magic
that tumult
right past the
icicles of your posture
And the last gift
I will ever
give to you
are the shards
that have already
melted from my
own estric heat
and, even then,
you will be too numb
to understand
and now, comes
in resonated whisper
my soul is out the door
Dec 25, 2016
Dec 25, 2016 at 4:18 PM UTC
from October, 2016
Ragged cliffs loom o'er the shore-
as waves punish the rocks below -
"Deafening",
is their roar..........
A fleece, a blanket, of mist...and fog,
muffles the 'pleas'
From the 'sailing ships'.....
moored in the salty seas
*Out from the mist...
alone.........she comes-
"A battle waits.... to be won"
says this maiden.....from Avalon*
With arms outspread--
and opened palms.......
She 'chants'...for the sea to lie "still.... and calm"...
says the maiden.......from Avalon
*"Oh God of Nature....of all men -
I beseech thee..........
To shield these men of gallantry".....
'Chants'...the maiden from Avalon*
As she speaks.....
the waves subside.....silent, is their roar
The solar orb....no longer hides....
As the brave doth come ashore.
Is it magic, myth, or simply......lore?
perhaps, a tale not told before-
But....... when all was said, and done......
"Blessed be the maiden".....
"From Avalon"
r.riddle- 10-29-2016
Feb 3, 2017
Feb 3, 2017 at 4:08 AM UTC
The parrot, screeching, flew out into the darkness,
Circled three times above the upturned faces
With a great whir of brilliant outspread wings,
And then returned to stagger on her finger.
She bowed and smiled, eliciting applause. . .
The property man hated her ***** birds.
But it had taken years-yes, years-to train them,
To shoulder flags, strike bells by tweaking strings,
Or climb sedately little flights of stairs.
When they were stubborn, she tapped them with a wand,
And her eyes glittered a little under the eyebrows.
The red one flapped and flapped on a swinging wire;
The little white ones winked round yellow eyes.
1.2k
I close my eyes
and the world drops dead
the cold pierces
my skin with sharp lead.
And your words hit me with a slam
and all I did was just bled and bled
It was all just made
up in our heads.
The sheets that once laid
across OUR bed
Now just contain one of each
and my arms reach for you, outspread.
I ponder and question why
did you stop and fled
Why couldn’t we just understood
after all that misread and misled.
Now my fingers crawl
and they tread on the loose threads
All there is to do is to hope
and to look ahead and miss the unsaid.
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 1:09 PM UTC
Do you recall that moment we shared?
that became a scopic sweep to outspread coast
tattooing a pinnacle on the crest face of time...
Even before that,
when those pages turned
after placing a bookmark
in the “All Embracing”
when rapidly cascading rapids
in a vital rush
Where once,
no water ran
but now,
a waterfall endures to keep gushing
as you stood in the line for lost post
Rotating between guest and host
Tracking down this package
And yet to return next to my side you came
Pleasure delaying the unwrapping
Sliding into it’s contents
as promptitude ensued
Immediately following
by this ones own hand,
the rising of your shirt
An advance to mount
lay parallel to your reclining position
Revealing this willing
More like pleading, how it sounded
In exchange for a soft euphoric injection
Evolving into sweat trading
All encompassed by
Engaged Ravaging
Sep 5, 2019
Sep 5, 2019 at 1:01 AM UTC
If only someone would call my name,
But no.
Instead, the ducks call to each other,
The lake calls to the duck,
The river calls to the lake,
And from the river is called muck.
If only someone were beside me on this bench,
But no.
Instead, The greedy birds stand side by side,
Rushing the child with the bread,
Near to a lady, looking on,
At the seagulls wings outspread.
I would like to enjoy my own company,
But no.
They say that solitude is nice,
But I'm lonely when I'm alone.
An insignificant piece of dust,
Gone when the wind has blown.
Oct 10, 2012
Oct 10, 2012 at 7:42 PM UTC
He strode out into the rain
Smiling subtly
There was a controlled ecstasy
To his movements
Like a subdued explosion
Like meeting an old friend
Peter, cascades
Patcher, plummets
To the beat of
Tip tap slippers
Sploshing in unison
To the tune of the falling rain
Arms outspread
He was as they say
A walking cliche
Aug 26, 2010
Aug 26, 2010 at 7:57 AM UTC
Beneath the forest's skirts I rest,
Whose branching pines rise dark and high,
And hear the breezes of the West
Among the threaded foliage sigh.
Sweet Zephyr! why that sound of wo?
Is not thy home among the flowers?
Do not the bright June roses blow,
To meet thy kiss at morning hours?
And lo! thy glorious realm outspread--
Yon stretching valleys, green and gay,
And yon free hilltops, o'er whose head
The loose white clouds are borne away.
And there the full broad river runs,
And many a fount wells fresh and sweet,
To cool thee when the mid-day suns
Have made thee faint beneath their heat.
Thou wind of joy, and youth, and love;
Spirit of the new wakened year!
The sun in his blue realm above
Smooths a bright path when thou art here.
In lawns the murmuring bee is heard,
The wooing ring-dove in the shade;
On thy soft breath, the new-fledged bird
Takes wing, half happy, half afraid.
Ah! thou art like our wayward race;--
When not a shade of pain or ill
Dims the bright smile of Nature's face,
Thou lov'st to sigh and murmur still.
959
You're desperately trying to render a smile,
as to be fake, but you are versatile.
You don't know half of your worth,
Which I am here to unearth..
Several times i told you, dear
That he cannot even come near,
You are amazing and supreme,
You are what i never dared to dream.
Seek the truth inside.
Jump out, and start to glide
Let go...
You're comparing yourself to the devil today
And I wonder how you manage to put you down this way
Believe me, hear me, when i say
No one can unveil the colors you display
Typically shy when it comes to my past,
But you've given me memories, greatly surpassed
Can't you see my arms are outspread
No longer needing to play dead
A motive, a purpose, a meaning, a reason,
You've untangled my life that was once a treason
Be quiet now, and listen well
You are the pearl concealed in a shell
You are the ray the clouds were hiding
That was with the angels, coinciding
So, seek the truth inside.
Jump out, and start to glide
Go with the current, with the tide
Forever i'll be by your side
Perpetually loving you
Constantly assuring you
Always admiring you
Infallible, genuine, you.
Jul 7, 2012
Jul 7, 2012 at 12:10 PM UTC