"overflowed" poems
I cut the middle fingernail of the middle
finger
right hand
real short
and I began rubbing along her ****
as she sat upright in bed
spreading lotion over her arms
face
and *******
after bathing.
then she lit a cigarette:
"don't let this put you off,"
an smoked and continued to rub
the lotion on.
I continued to rub the ****
"You want an apple?" I asked.
"sure, she said, "you got one?"
but I got to her-
she began to twist
then she rolled on her side,
she was getting wet and open
like a flower in the rain.
then she rolled on her stomach
and her most beautiful ***
looked up at me
and I reached under and got the
**** again.
she reached around and got my
**** she rolled and twisted,
I mounted
my face falling into the mass
of red hair that overflowed
from her head
and my flattened **** entered
into the miracle.
later we joked about the lotion
and the cigarette and the apple.
then I went out and got some chicken
and shrimp and french fries and buns
and mashed potatoes and gravy and
cole slaw,and we ate.she told me
how good she felt and I told her
how good I felt and we
ate the chicken and the shrimp and the
french fries and the buns and the
mashed potatoes and the gravy and
the cole slaw too.
69.4k
*erstwhile a halcyon extant universe incessantly ceaseless
cradled itself in hues of violet phosphorescence
laced with cobalt shimmering stars
perpetually whole it nonetheless
sought to know itself
encompassing all that is bubbling over in effervescent ebullience
intertwined with indescribable catastrophic splendor
it shattered into tens of millions of splinters
of eloquent efflorescent light
shining in the night
each splinter heretofore imbued with sempiternal felicity
began to conjure sumptuous dulcet elixirs
furtively seeking out savory emollients
to mollify the pique of separation
plummeting they fell
into monstrous competition seeking demesne they lost the purpose
of gaining awareness and intelligent consciousness
surreptitious estrangement overflowed
deluging them in excruciating agony
thus an epiphany was born
the carving of the beleaguered fragments inked with tremendous pain
created a transfiguration of splinters to crystals
hence enlightenment commenced as the gems
magnetized together constructing a world
where omnipotence shines
the ineffable beauty formed by the reintegration of crystals
far exceeds the original as they dazzle with universal light
bursting from diamonds etched in deep wisdom
flooding the firmament with kaleidoscopic
rainbow strobes cascading the sky
©2016janetaylor
May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 1:23 PM UTC
Mine
6:48 a Wednesday
Two Weeks later
Then: Thanksgiving eve
5E; MIT
I sit at my desk:
stare out of the windows <
My skull
at the Chocolate Bock I just
Overflowed > all over my notes
on the Circe episode of Ulysses,
which I have not yet read.
20 minutes after I just ––
Went alone. Stood there, yes, alone
Above the porcelain enterprise
Taking that litmus test of humanity
Clear, I pass. Yellow, I fail.
It was rather clear I think
Honestly? I don't remember.
Two weeks ago, I stood there==
and came up with this phrase.
Standing there with special eyes::::
Seeing.
Came back to my room, I did, faithfully
Looked there below my second fridge
A plate sat. mine. On it: maybe food, maybe *****
Probably marijuana
Only the first my own
Who remembers?
Next to it: an empty prescription bottle
"It's some medicine for Asthma. I don't even
_have_ asthma!"
"Classy **** I am; I've never bought a shot glass.
Just use discarded prescription bottles."
An experiment @ the sink: exact: 2.0z. On the dot.
Turns out that's 1&1/3 of the standard—The ritual
We make it. And have made it.
For years now together after midnight
[or so]
4 years. Soon it will be
Maybe I shall leave; probably not
but harken back, that fortnight, less 6
To that evening. Orange and purple
Effort sublime but not enough:
Lost to a team of Freshman.?!
~If only:~
"Tripped mad-laundry shrooms",
6 and a half months ago
Two men sit in the corner of my room
I know one; the other spoke
2-weeks-later: sticky keyboard
I am not sober, but who is?
Last night. Remember those videos?
reminded me that *** can be beautiful:
After basically 2 years: I almost forgot.
x-art.com. December 6, 2011
I have a perspective now:
It is not the same as yours
it is not and, by necessity,
can not be the same.
But I see it. Stephen Daedalus
calls it immature—lyrical
but **** you, James: it is mine!
I am. Will always be.
Will have never been.
But, God/Goddess **** it now!
I am: I See.
I try!
~D.B.Guy
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 3:23 AM UTC
And life came in, crowned in blood, kissed and messed,
announcing itself with a cry.
A girl-child, missing piece, fitted to my breast
her weight absorbed with my heart's sigh
She was fear personified, so heavenly blessed,
she made my terrified simpers her lullaby.
I felt my heart's core swell to absorb her scent,
and my eyes overflowed with love's cascading cry.
She cast light into my darkened chaotic hurt -
sparked a desire to wake, to live, to try,
clasping her whole fist around my ring finger,
holding me still; the whole world passing by.
And in her absence she left her shadow nestled in my chest.
And in my absence I hid my kisses in her sigh.
She grew with eyes of blue and a sympathetic smile -
all faerie dust on the wing of a butterfly,
an almost echo of a girl I once knew.
Except she didn't know that kind of cry,
wouldn't know anything less than rainbows,
than Christmas mornings and endless blue skies.
We tripped, clicked heels through the passing years,
from little girl to little woman in the blink of an eye,
till we were both wearing her shoes instead of mine.
And like Alice, she snapped from low to high
she grew - time sculpting curvy definitions
of who I hope and fear she will be.
She is golden curls and girlish giggles
ever wondering the where or the why
ever seeking to help, to heal, to try
to pour her heart into an undeserving world.
She has legs she claims to stand her ground
to be, to free, to hold her own.
And though like me, she is not me,
since she is so much braver than I.
Her finger is wrapped around her innocence
holding strong to consent or deny.
This life will make her cry her tears
and this world will realise her fears
but she will ever have the wings to fly
and I will ever ready to sing her our lullaby.
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 3:37 PM UTC
It was the end of the world when Ares met Mars
Supposed to be counterparts, brothers in arms
But on opposing sides they stood
Couldn’t see eye to eye
And instead of stemming the blood
Each took an eye for an eye
Until in time the whole world went blind
The sword attacked and the spear struck back
But that’s what happens when cultures clash
When cultures collide
With anger and hatred it starts to divide
But nobody wins, cos the dead look the same on both sides
It was the mother of all storms when Jupiter met Zeus
There could have been a deuce; could have called a truce
But each wanted more and more
The two as black as thunder
And instead of stopping the war
Each stole the other’s thunder
Until in time the whole world went under
The thunder attacked and the lightning struck back
But that’s what happens when cultures clash
When cultures collide
With anger and hatred it starts to divide
But nobody wins, cos the dead look the same on both sides
The underworld shook when the earth caved in
Pluto and Hades together couldn’t take us all in
We didn’t see when being heartless
In wanting the best of both worlds
That the second of the two would be darkness
And together the weight of the worlds
Would send us crashing down to Tartarus
The rivers overflowed and the fires turned to ash
But that’s what happens when cultures clash
Dec 16, 2016
Dec 16, 2016 at 7:54 PM UTC
The rain came in rivers
Flooded the streets
Trees and debris everywhere
Up to my knees
In the sky's sorrow
I couldn't wait
"Till tomorrow"
To borrow your heart
I swam the roads
That overflowed
My heart for yours is what I owed
And at the crossroad
There was no water
No flood
No trees or debris
Up to my knees
Just you
Only you
Always you
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 3:09 AM UTC
While briskly walking through a patch of weeds,
My eyes thought they had quickly been deceived,
For as I placed my foot down on the ground,
I saw a flower blooming all around.
A cherry blossom, bright and blooming free,
It’s beauty overflowed with joyous glee.
“How rare”, I said, “this really is a find”,
And then, I thought, what if the plant was mine?
And so, I picked her from her place unknown,
And brought her back to stay inside my home.
I kept her happy, for a while, it’s true.
What happened next always makes me so blue…
Her beauty, so divine, so unrestrained;
She captivated me, no effort made.
Her smell, on par with scents of those Greek gods,
To get my own Goddess, I beat the odds.
She brought me life and happiness, I was
Blessed to have her in my life because
There never was a blossom quite like her,
Such beauty could not spring from putrid earth….
And when she blossomed, I watched in dismay...
My Cherry Blossom fated not to stay.
I loved my flower truly, dearly so,
Her love and care gave me a place to go.
A prime example, perfect specimen,
Revitalizing my flat heart again.
My garden’s empty now, my shades are drawn,
I wish I’d smelled you once, before you’d gone.
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 5:50 PM UTC
I already cried a thousand tears
I cried them into my bottle of beer
It overflowed and went on my floor
Now everything's wet, because you're a *****
Sep 27, 2012
Sep 27, 2012 at 1:31 PM UTC
I picked a flower in May just to watch her blossom all for myself
Beautiful and brilliant I sat her in a glass on a shelf
I added water so she wouldn't go dry
Magnificence such as hers I couldn't let die
I watched as she grew
Time flew and flew
Her petals orange and blue like a vanilla sky
As she prospered and danced I noticed a change
Something very strange that caught my eye
Her stems became vines intertwined simultaneously with my poetry and life
In place of green,
She overflowed out of the glass in white sheets of paper
And it was there she made her illustration so divine
A perfect drawing of a heart
That turned out to be mine
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 9:03 PM UTC
When my world was collapsing,
You came as a pillar,
When my dreams were fading,
You came as a light,
When my thoughts became blank,
You filled it in with color,
When my smile started dying,
You became the reason for me to rejoice,
When tears in my eyes overflowed,
You bought solace in them,
When I started feeling lonely,
You bought life back in me,
When my mood became emotional,
You made me practical,
When I missed terribly my people
You mimicked each one for me,
When darkness came near me,
You bought brightness with your presence,
When I felt it to be end of road,
You showed me new path, new goal,
When today I think of you,
So many emotions surge in my heart,
Love, Gratitude, Guide, Philosopher,
The best one though is last to come,
Coz’ I make you my dearest friend,
You have given me so much I can never repay,
But promise I make, to be always happy,
Promise I make, that I will always smile
As in my Smile lies my dearest friends Smile.
Neha srivastava
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 1:09 PM UTC
Breeze bellows,
leaves echo in
quivering psithurism,
dithering like
unbroken smoke,
this approaching omen goads.
Dozing crows
slumbering in rows,
droves of locusts'
silenced drone,
almost comatose in repose;
nighttime overtones
choir of toads'
raspy croaks
answered by alto
of crickets' orchestral strokes.
Gust encroaches;
robed boughs
cloven open,
bring into
scope and focus
me juxtaposed,
suspended apropos.
Although motionless
and petrified in stone,
provoked by zephyr
coaxing to and fro;
swaying pendulous
and no longer frozen,
locus gently thrown.
Death rattle moan
evoked from throat,
reflex can't say no
to rigor rigidly posed,
final sigh in silence,
awoken vocal,
expelled and disposed.
Smote by
morose emotion,
gun loaded then exploded
by neurosis,
now bloated
necrosis decomposes
into gross ochre.
This trophy
and this ode
both an opus to
my inability to cope;
romanced i proposed,
eloped and betrothed to
my own
inappropriate composure.
Pocket full of posies
plucked when luck bestowed
and tears in a cup, a toast;
crying copiously,
tempest runneth overflowed,
eyes swollen and soaked.
Dipped my toes
in the coast
of this ocean's
amorphous folds,
gripped by undertow
holding control of my soul;
swiftly shipwrecked in
shallow shoal,
an old atoll.
On sandy floor,
water burrows roads;
digging, carving, roams
through unmarrowed
silica and sandstone
eroding into a cove.
A host for
opal geode trove,
enclosing a
technicolor rose,
from the depths
a glowing mosaic shone
Unopened lotus floats
on foam
of lapping waves,
a boat;
prone to no
grandiose notion
or motive,
adrift as wind stokes.
I suppose
this only shows
the total corrosion
into which I dove,
the only foes to oppose
are those of burdens, so
only weightless can I atone-
I must let go.
Mar 11, 2024
Mar 11, 2024 at 11:02 AM UTC
Chapped Lips
The cracked skin on my lips
Represents the crack on my heart
About to break in tiny pieces
The more I smile
The more my lips stretch
The more my heart breaks
But dare I let my lips falls part?
Dare I put lip balm on?
To ease the pain
To cease the blood…?
The Lips overflowed with blood
Like a fountain
And with a splash from the wings of a bird
Gallons flown over my chin
Formed droplets
And stain my shirt
But the smile stays
But not the heart
The heart is shallow
There’s no more blood to keep it pumping
Just a fragile glass
See through it is
But its crack near the top left is hard to see…
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 4:00 PM UTC
when my love pours beyond
the rim of the glass,
i won’t cry over spilt milk.
what is longing if not a drop,
pressed at once with cloth in vain.
let it run down the table’s edge,
a river of devotion.
and if it stains the wood, so be it
for what is love
if it leaves no mark?
let it rest in the grain,
a memory not meant to vanish
but to remind me, i once overflowed.
n.h.
Sep 10, 2025
Sep 10, 2025 at 9:38 AM UTC
The field overflowed with the blood of heroes
yet blood fell cheap on the battleground
still no freedom for those who dared
silence to the soul,who made little sound.
Onward they marched common man and soldiers alike
to stop the tyranny once in for all
their cry for freedom echoed in the winds
one by one,the enemies will fall.
Their pledge to the soil turned into action
sacrifices were made in the heart of motherland
patriot after patriot bathed in blood
as quit India movement began to expand.
Finally,at the stroke of midnight hour
freedom came out loud and strong
the people of India cherished their dreams
as a storm loomed with their hallowed song.
To this day,India remembers her heroes
whose blood has spoken the language of freedom
India stands proud,with her flag flying high
reclaiming her land and her beautiful kingdom.
Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 2:59 AM UTC
my mind is going to explode
not sure how much longer I can stay on this rope
my arms, legs, and hands are giving up
my days blend into weeks, there is no living up
no laughter-filled dawns or innocent wrongs
all so mundane, just a playing pawn
in a losing game, just losing weight
it's depressing this depression, I wish I invested but now I am stressing
they say it's a blessing which is distressing because I feel like I am suppressing
underneath the weight of academics, surprised I made it through 12
first-year almost broke me and second year is not discerning
my mind is going to explode
the candle won't stop burning
my cup is overflowed
Dec 5, 2021
Dec 5, 2021 at 4:57 PM UTC
The memory of my father is wrapped up in
white paper, like sandwiches taken for a day at work.
Just as a magician takes towers and rabbits
out of his hat, he drew love from his small body,
and the rivers of his hands
overflowed with good deeds.
3.2k
You spoke those words to me as you departed from my sight. My sorrow overflowed, nothing meant anything to me but your words. I never got over you, Chelsea. It took me a few years before saying that didn't hurt, a few more to get the courage to see your Facebook page, and yet I still have no courage to say anything to you. I don't want to be pushed away again, the fear of falling has left me flightless.
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 10:33 PM UTC
I.
with my hand clutching my heart,
i anxiously swept my feet across
the hallway lined with a hundred artworks,
only to discover at the very end
that mine was just
one place short of an award.
i run all the way back the long hallway
to hide teardrops in a dark lonely corner
until my father
came and gave me
a comforting embrace.
his strong hands patted me on the back,
my tears stained his crisp polo as
i buried my face in his chubby belly.
he told me
that i'm the greatest artist
and that no matter what
he loves me.
II.
seeds planted in me bloomed
into realizations
and those realizations bred feelings
and like a tidal wave
the sea of emotions
surged over me
and overflowed to my eyes
chest felt heavy and
my head felt light.
i made my way through the dark and crowded room
to my brother
and in front of all his friends
tackled him in a hug.
he scuffled my hair and locked me in his arms,
and i couldn't believe he hugged me back
instead of pushing me away.
he told me
that he was stupid
and that he was sorry.
III.
he held me back as everyone else went down
the winding staircase.
i knew too well that this day would come
but i injected myself with lies
that February can feel like forever.
but the truth prevailed
and the truth hurts.
our cheeks brush and blush.
he got me on the tips of my toes
and his thick sweater caught my tears
as we wrap each other in a long embrace.
i let go of him and dropped my hands
because the moment felt too right but
he hugged me tighter
and he swayed me
gently
back and forth...
back and forth...
back and forth...
contrary
to the wild beat of my heart.
he told me
his final goodbye
and that he will miss me.
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 6:46 AM UTC
The pipes froze as the toilet overflowed
with pangs of guilt and bile bitten clothes.
She tried to dispose of what she ate
from breakfast to lunch to her snacks after eight.
From dieting to shame, infatuation came,
from the overwhelming pain of being herself.
Scared to ask for help, she took matters to her hands.
One to hold her hair, the other to her thyroid gland.
© Matthew Harlovic
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 11:06 PM UTC
Dear Madam Sabrina,
The lonely beach shores, I walk
Tossing seashells of affection in remebrance of you
A pursued love interest that is overwhelm
Overflowed by tears I attempted to hold back
Slithering ghostly as we never embrace
A tender kiss, ponders across the bay
Given a mysterious essence
We are lost
In an oceanview desire
Recollecting inner thoughts about another
A woman I found,but an achor
Abreast from you
Rejection is a raging wave that conquerors
My ability to forget you
A stranger to calm sea
Can float away
From peaceful shores
Of love
Yours truly,
A man without dignity
Sep 29, 2009
Sep 29, 2009 at 4:25 AM UTC
I can still remember.
That burning feeling of inspiration, bubbling up through my body.
It dominated me, defined me, led me to believe that I was my own hero.
A protagonist on a quest, a road to travel on, certainty in my bones.
Driven by love through the narration of my world, my story.
Words overflowed from my heart.
Staining the tracks, pages, and lilies of my life with my fire.
Every heartbeat resounded like the clanging of a tower's bells.
Each ring dictating time, order, purpose, place.
I can still remember.
The lingering taste of coffee on my tongue, my face sore from smiling.
Hours spent talking and listening.
The content of my life summarized like chapters of a book.
The way my heart vaulted when your eyes met mine.
It was like the moon pulling at the tides.
Giving the waves motion and momentum.
So I spilled my ink and blood, writing you into the story.
I can still remember.
What it was like when it was over.
I hadn't realized I had been living in a cell.
Scrawling my visions of the world onto every inch of those four walls.
Diagrams and diatribes, the things I considered to be myself.
Going mad in the most wonderful fashion.
As I left I saw them for what they were.
Mosaics and memorials.
Poison and poetry.
The passionate magic of first and finals, the ****** taste of loss.
But **** it was beautiful all the same.
I can still remember.
What it felt like to move on.
The taste of freedom and fresh air, an urge to defy what was.
And become something more again.
But suddenly, the bleeding in my heart slowed.
The resounding clangs of my inner bells softly faded.
It took years,
But one day I reached inside myself
Expecting to feel the fire burning inside me.
I can still remember.
The dread that came with the lack of heat.
The soul of myself, the definition of me as the hero.
Was only embers now.
The easy numbness that washed over me.
The determination and inspiration that was me had left.
I was broken, as I always was.
But I no longer knew myself as beautiful.
I was not a protagonist.
I had written myself out of my own story, slowly but surely.
There was no quest, no journey, no one to save or be saved by.
Just whatever I have become.
I hope one day to remember.
My clumsy and earnest return to form.
When my heart again bled ink and crackled with flame.
May 5, 2017
May 5, 2017 at 3:21 PM UTC
Sickening,
He found it sickening,
How everyone around him seemed to be in love.
Someone,
They all had someone.
They all had the thing he was dreaming of.
Loverboy was surrounded by love,
He found it excruciating.
Loverboy wished for an angel to come down from above,
To end his misery.
How Loverboy loved,
To hear about everyone’s,
Relationships while he was alone.
Loverboy all on his own.
He went through the motions,
Dancing solo.
Solitude had left him destitute,
Crawling to a new low.
Loverboy watched as,
Lovers and friends,
Intertwined hands.
He envied,
His friend,
And hoped her relationship,
Wouldn’t meet a bitter end.
Circling,
Circling thoughts.
Was Loverboy good enough?
Was it something he lacked?
Loverboy pondered as he turned his back.
He closed himself off from the world,
Too afraid to watch his heart unfurl.
How he loved to listen to,
The gossip of the hearts broken in two.
Some relationships were meant to lose,
Fate demands his dues.
How could he be so unlucky?
Surely, this was the work of irony.
Or, perhaps, was he,
Just unlovable from the beginning?
Loverboy learned not to care,
When his friend spoke about her affairs.
After all, he was alone,
With no opinion to offer besides his own.
His friend was clueless,
Clueless about Loverboy’s mind.
He accepted his fate,
That one day he’d be left behind.
Loverboy’s lack of love,
Led to lies of liable fun.
Just smile and listen to the stories they tell,
His tears overflowed inside his well.
Don’t crack,
Don’t break,
Loverboy can’t afford to make a mistake.
After all, it’s not about you,
It never was,
Loverboy knew this to be true.
Loverboy loved to listen to others’ loves.
A lie to keep him up at night.
Loverboy wished an angel would fall from above,
To show him some love,
Some of that fated love.
Sep 23, 2025
Sep 23, 2025 at 11:13 PM UTC
The old brown thorn-trees break in two high over Cummen Strand,
Under a bitter black wind that blows from the left hand;
Our courage breaks like an old tree in a black wind and dies,
But we have hidden in our hearts the flame out of the eyes
Of Cathleen, the daughter of Houlihan.
The wind has bundled up the clouds high over Knock-narea,
And thrown the thunder on the stones for all that Maeve can say.
Angers that are like noisy clouds have set our hearts abeat;
But we have all bent low and low and kissed the quiet feet
Of Cathleen, the daughter of Houlihan.
The yellow pool has overflowed high up on Clooth-na-Bare,
For the wet winds are blowing out of the clinging air;
Like heavy flooded waters our bodies and our blood;
But purer than a tall candle before the Holy Rood
Is Cathleen, the daughter of Houlihan.
2.2k