"palpitations" poems
a crack in her voice
a tremble in her words
a shiver from her body
a tremor from her words
her anger gave her palpitations
her anger brought tears to her eyes
she clenched her jaw
and ****** her fingers
the wall next to her
no longer seems like a wall
it was a punching bag
the blood trickles down her fist
but she doesn't feel the pain
not more than the anger
red hot burning anger
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 7:45 AM UTC
<>
"And then one day you came back home
You were a creature all in rapture
You had the key to your soul
And you did open that day you came back to the garden
The olden summer breeze was blowin' on your face
The light of God was shinin' on your countenance divine
And you were a violet colour as you
Sat beside your father and your mother in the garden
The summer breeze was blowin' on your face
Within your violet you treasure your summery words
And as the shiver from my neck down to my spine
Ignited me in daylight and nature in the garden"
In the Garden,
song by by Van Morrison
<>
***This touches me deep in the chest cavity,
the palpitations of its internalizing echoing cavitations,
a warning, go slow, choose your words wise and
accrue, the mood,
for the ache of creating, hurts, fevers me
for I am but steps away from the garden,
and its violet hues infused with fresh sunrising golden hazes,
with kindly warmth, with warming kindnesses,
touches,
caresses my shoulders, begs me to stop crying,
overcome, for I am overcome, eyes dropping wetting droplets,
for find myself at the intersection,
interlocking crossroads
where perfect perfection
begins and must
meet its natural endings
thoughts of capture, retentions, preservations,
all impossibilities, challenges,
see me, begging itinerant
muses
in the neighborhood
to guide my hand, teach me newsome words,
mine feel so old, so unworthy of this moment,
hearing me solicit their
Treasure of Summery
Words
but they won't,
excusing themselves,
that this in particular human has exercised, exorcised,
all the tools in his ever diminishing capacity,
time insufficient to learn a new calculus of
addition
and bid me calm my heaving chest,
seize my tears, just add them to the brackish salted waters steps
awaiting away
live in this moment
live within this poem,
revisit it frequent,
weep no more,
your stilling heart weakened,
take fast what is given now,
and be contented,
your treasury chest is full,
overflowing with this summary of
summery***
but I am not, cannot…
7:48:am
jul 22
Jul 22, 2025
Jul 22, 2025 at 8:03 AM UTC
I rest my head in the dusky hours
early in the hope I'll awaken refreshed
instead in the lonely hours
at 2am, 3am and 4am
my body rests
while my mind races with complex thought
caught somewhere between sadness and complacency
the past present and future merging into one
clashing and colliding
confusing
working hard into the night
sending my heart to palpitations.
I close my eyes and the words I see written on my ceiling
are engrained on the insides of my eyelids
crawling with the spiders
I overthink instead of sleep
I dream in my conscious state
of what could've been
what is
and what might be
restless in a state of exhaustion
lucid in a state of total consciousness
hopeless to stop the relentless tide of my imagination
from rotting my brain inside and out
ruining any faith I have in a night of sleep
or a day of clarity and competence.
The thoughts leave when I rise again at 7am
as planned
with the chiming of the bells on the nightstand
my head snaps into reality again
focus returns in the form of routine
get up, go
move on, mend.
Distracted and oblivious
my lack of sleep haunts me
until I repeat this dull cycle again tonight
I live my nightmares in the lonely hours
at 2am, 3am and 4am.
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 9:08 AM UTC
“where time is the fly and age the fisher of men”
<>
*”until I fell forward
into fall where time is
the fly and age the fisher
of men, then when winter
begins all will be forgotten,
where time is the fly and
age the fisher of men”*
excerpt from “The Fall” by Rick Richardson
<>
that words from a different ionic state, jump as embodied ions from screen to the throat, evicting a guttural current of exclamation, you believe even with the half-heartedly palpitations from remainder of my damaged pumping heart, that these words were always intended, just for me…
boy and old man coexist, the pottage of memories stirred,
and the time is fly, and I drown in the miracle of greenest grass of
Yankee Stadium at age eight,
oasis, heaven, a child reborn in a sea of Bronx concrete,
and the swallowing up of my boyhood is forever marked henceforth, the hook has caught me, and I am of the age
once and forever
not a fisherman, but a fisher of men’s souls,
mine own is my best bait,
hooked line and sinker, and
wisdom and words
elude and delude always,
like summer is perpetual and aging a construct,
time does not fly, but slowly laps and waves
eroding our myths and ourselves upon a continuum with
no ends
~postscript~
<>
*yet I believe,
in miracles of
fish and loaves,
and that our individual continuums
will exist beyond the artifice of constraints
of
mortal time and that poems are
the forever chemicals within
our
bloodstreams,
even when our blood no longer spills*
yet I believe!
Sep 6, 2023
Sep 6, 2023 at 7:57 AM UTC
I survived another day.
I will rewrite the forgotten,
before it is extinguished.
Steam in my lungs.
Carbon monoxide.
We ate honey in the morning,
to tablespoons.
We kiss without tiredness.
"Bathing together unites us," he said.
Resonant palpitations.
The guitar sounds soft.
You give me music of spirit.
I survived another day
because you breathe.
Sep 6, 2017
Sep 6, 2017 at 2:42 AM UTC
in the river of good company
***I dedicate this poem to
Mr. Harlon Rivers,
one of the best poets (here)
and from his good company,
i could drink all day and
never be quenched***
~
Preface
sometime, the heart wants it wants,
denial, temporarily from your vocabulary, excised
sometimes, beauty keelhauls you, gets you
awestruck inspired, then arrogance overcomes
the brilliance of common sense and you go ahead and
mess with perfection despite every sensor flashing
uh oh, duh, oh no, fool on the premises, lockdown needed!
do believe this condition can be found in the medical books
under I, for Inspiration, Incantation, or S for Stupidifacation
my heart wants to write a poem,
cause I was a witness, sitting twenty feet
from the heavenly crime scene,
and every intonation swept my brain into that secret place,
when I heard KD Lang singing "The Valley"^
~~~
in the river of good company
simple sentiment but good god
all I ever wanted and so oft lacked
such was my fate, one I made,
had plenty good words for boon companions,
the occasional touch of a woman rippling waves
cross my face, a love lapping slapping
of concentric pebble rings,
till like most good things
gone good goes bad,
it just happens to evaporate and
you think someday, maybe,
you will walk again in good company
the brain says quit right here
but the heart brooks no damning tantrum of sanity imposition,
for those handful of deepest, not quite six feet under
palpitations of insensible, cutting glimpses of that word I hate so,
memories,
of when
you walked in good company
men women no different - it is that heated aura
tween bodies that confirms that you are once again
a human being, just a being, temporarily
enhanced, elevated, by good company
so go ahead sweet talks ya, that devil id a/k/a desire, says -
one more for the road can't hurt ya,
write that poem -
and perhaps one good man, glory hallelujah, a good woman,
will read it and you can stop weeping you idiot,
do it so you will be back, nuttier but nurtured,
drinking from the river of good company,
mouthing not even dare whispering,
satisfied satiated, loving and loved
~
all reposts greatly and grateful appreciated!
4/2/17 9:24am
Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 9:27 AM UTC
home is where I hear your footsteps rattling the foot boards,
resonating at the same frequency of my heart's undulating palpitations.
home is where I feel your haunting presence persistently
passing through these crumbled walls of mine.
home is where I see you in the mirror every time I look for me.
home is where you twist, turn and shake up the whole **** house.
home is wherever you are, no matter how far.
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 5:10 AM UTC
Trouble, love...
You drown me in
Quick
Beats;
Palpitations of my
Red *****
My waters run for you.
Tied with
Ribbons of
Silk,
I shout proclamations
To the clouds who
Threaten to rain on us.
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 1:28 PM UTC
A white noise in your throat
The palpitations drop and boil
Your stomach inside itself.
The motors and gears in your limbs
Rust and stick like someone spat
Their chewed gum into them.
Tears freeze in their place and
The burn sets in.
Save us.
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 1:14 PM UTC
In my thoracic cavity is a clock
that rhythmically sounds tick, tock.
Pumping blood through my body
giving my hands an opportunity
to point out a good quality
And a fault.
It is good that you know I am with you
but a fault is found in this sad room
as sounds of this hospital's gloom
absorb into my aching brain
I almost miss your words full of pain
what you said will always stay.
"I think of days of old
days of gold
days that told
us to cling and hold
onto occasions
that you and I had.
Days I thought could not go bad
Days I thought could not go bad."
Your clock ticks, but it would not tock
arrhythmic palpitations hold your body in lock
arms turn into stiff, limp imitations of parts
your body can find out how to start
its own trip into that forlorn dark
with no comfort from a singing lark.
I'm no lark, I bring no comfort of dawn
but I'll stay up with you as you yawn.
Your soul's windows full of worry
build up this notion your light will go in a hurry.
I vow to you as your light grows old
that you and I had days of gold
that you and I had days of gold.
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 12:35 AM UTC
The patient has had no nausea,
vomiting or back pain. No chills,
fatigue, fever, decreased vision
or double vision. No ear drainage
or hearing loss, epistaxis or
runny nose. No sore throat, calf
pain, chest pain, cough or difficulty
breathing. No pedal edema,
palpitations, black stools, ******
stools or constipation. No diarrhea,
urinary frequency, laceration, skin
rash or depression. No dizziness,
headache, head injury, weakness
or enlarged lymph nodes. All
systems negative
and yet
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 7:16 PM UTC
My golden heart beats and beats for you
A thousand palpitations at any given moment
I can feel my chest caving in within every pulse
Filling my head with such evocative dialogue
The salacious sound of your slithering voice
Snakes into my head spreading like an aphrodisiac
You solicit lecherously illicit questions that unnerve my judgment
In our dreams we dreamt of double eclipses
Upon our lips while we slept and slumbered
Our bodies coiled like serpents tangled in tantric passion
With the waking of giants and mythical expeditions
Our hearts would burn the fieriest of red
Ensnared between these silken sheets
Springs tied around every exposed limb
As if we haven’t known the sweetness of sleep for days
Oct 19, 2011
Oct 19, 2011 at 8:28 PM UTC
the dead re-materialise by the side of the roadside
they are visible as though seen through a spotlight
it is a brutally interrogative light
that magnifies these corpses
makes them resemble the fragments
of suicidal terracotta pots
it magnifies them as symbolic equivalents
of their real image
its beam dazzles broken glass on the pavement
the breakage an impersonation of their cataclysm
causing the edges of seeing to hurt
and hearing to submerge itself
in a turquoise blue aquarium in fear
as speech sounds a primitive retreat
in its atavistic echoes of inveterate distraction
there is a disorder of blood stains on the road
where all emotional impulse is volatilised
causing a wild distillation of programmed anxiety
which in a different vocabulary becomes
a figment of somebody else's imagination
causing a sinister, stuporous, stagnancy of sound
in palpitations, dropped heartbeats, nausea, headaches
and a foul change in bowel function
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 10:11 AM UTC
those
who has so long been submerged
in the water of the womb-cave
now when the sun rises
would they put their lips in action
the pantograph
the wheat-plants
that has been sowed in autumn
the shyness of the houses
going away farther and farther
how much should i become glum
for those stations
on which i suppose to never put my steps
since taking birth
the same story of huggis and wrappers
i’ve told you to say good bye
to the portman
full of rust
and to make an aquarium
for the flying-fishes
with the water-moon
there may also exist
some social forestry
mr slumber
you can’t keep the good-wishes
arranged properly
so as soon as the eyes get open
the palpitations start
Sep 13, 2010
Sep 13, 2010 at 5:39 AM UTC
Hi, my name's Anorexia
That's not my birth name
But that's what people know me as -
The skeleton walking through the hallways
Emotionless eyes and burning wrists
Hi, my name's Anorexia
The girls ask me,
"How many calories did you eat this week?"
I rattle off the numbers
They think it's a game
Hi, my name's Anorexia
My favorite hobbies include:
Fainting
Heart palpitations
Hospital trips
And weekly blood drawings
Hi, my name's Anorexia
And im dying
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 4:36 PM UTC
oh what sustains this mind
a mind that teeters
on the edge of a spiral vertigo
that sways and rocks
in an unease of palpitations
attempting to escape
from the brutal insensitivity
of the granite faces that occupy the streets
a mind of hallucinated perceptions
with a constant stream of imagery
that finds a difficulty in the self negotiation,
the articulation of its inner geography
where a frightened availability of disturbance
in the vocabulary of its chemical graffiti
leaves speech vacated on the tongue
where eyes are pushed to see
a discord of sympathies for different dimensions
that has one disassociated, cut off from the immediate
living in an inner dialogue
of rebellious and unconventional preoccupations
a self alienation that heightens
the poetic colouring of the imagination
causes a ************ of the mind
that makes me cripplingly aware
of the abyss at the heart of my inner disquiet
makes my toes hover on the jagged edge of the world
yet I jump choosing discovery over societal dictum
to do rather than be
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 9:00 PM UTC
Candle wax, Bees wax,
I sat in my slacks,
Checking over my facts.
I am a guy, check,
I am a cool guy, check,
I am an incredible cool guy, check.
List after list of self motivation,
Maintaining my hearts palpitations,
After a while of checking lists after lists,
I found myself falling from the realm of facts,
Into a realm of fiction.
It almost became an addiction,
Into self delusion that I was better than I really am,
But who really cares.....
I am me,
And I am cool,
I am an incredible cool guy.
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 6:57 PM UTC
Controversy started over the images this device receives. Hormones control this impulse, she's making each ***** convulse, and I can tell I'm still in love by the palpitations of my pulse.
Thus, proving that her actions indicate the prequel to her return. Her affection distant but still yearn, expressing sentiments, guess I'll never learn, spoken without biting my tongue
and now it's your turn.
Conquer hearts and take over,
**** her off when I'm not sober,
**** her off when thoughts become somber, **** her off when I say I won't be here much longer, **** her off for many reasons, **** her off once during every season and **** her off the most when in myself I stop believing.
Her perfection an extension of accessible recollection, to the woman who despises the notion of wearing articles of clothing.
Not the best at displaying her emotions, so in combination the words she's chosen seem broken, unable to withhold the growth of sentiments cut at the root, and as they now reproduce, sunflowers inhabit her garden and all the revelations of truth.
Lapse of time passes, lasting longer
than activities that involved
me being on her.
Inappropriately timing events perfectly.
Summer seems to have visited me in the fall, her memories now more than ever I recall and wishing I wasn't missing the woman who had it all.
Concluding it's a blessing, for continuing to have your presence present, writing by only depending on your recollection, and since poetry is my obsession, make new memories with me as I practice the act of ceding back to a former possessor, definition of recession.
Oct 12, 2013
Oct 12, 2013 at 7:10 PM UTC
Ah, now I remember.
It was in those rare moments when you say something different.
Words weave in and out of your lips
but your eyes have the freshly stitched smile
like that of a child
listening to their favorite bed-time story.
Satin slips from your mouth,
wrapping around the beating murmurs
below my necklace
triangle yantra of Kali,
under a lacy leopard bra,
beneath the tattooed deviant octopus,
and soothes the palpitations
to a comfortable pause.
We don't always need air to breathe.
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 11:23 PM UTC
It's loosing all control in your body yet being aware of everything that's happening.
You can't hear your own screams but you know they're there.
Heart palpitations.
Your breathing becomes as fast as your heart rate.
You can't see the people staring but you know they're watching.
You don't blame them, you don't know how to stop it either.
Having a gun held to your chest and being told to run.
Being told your free while being locked in a cell block.
Don't panic.
Stay calm.
"Anxiety, is that actually a thing?"
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 11:10 PM UTC
Alabaster Archipelagos
Benevolent Beauty Beaming
Constructive Contradictive Creative Contemplations
Dante's Darling Dances Deliberating Denominatives
Effervescent Escapisms Endearingly Emerge Elusive Edens
Fantastic Flamboyant ******** Flamed Fabulous Fiery Flickerings
Gorgeous Garden Gim'memores Gaudied Garnishing Gasps
Heavenly Hues Humming Heart's Harmonies
Immortaly Impregnated Inspired Ideals
Jessamin Jargon Jacuzzi Jams
Know-how Knacking Knurls
Light-spirited Lovers
Merge Magnificent
Naked Nocturno Nights
Omnipresent Ousia Over Odeons
Palpitations Perfect Peaks Pi Paws
Quintessential Quality Quarrels Question Quarks Quietness
Rododendron's Richameters Rescued Raw Reeling Ruby Realms
Sentient Syllabic Sapfo's Splendidly Spirited Semantics
Turning Turner's Timeless Timeless Twinklings
Unified Undulatory Unsolved Unicorns
Velvety Venice Voyages
Wanton Wantings
Xsylophone Xsantiphas
Yearnin' Yuki's Yen
Zed's Zealous Zen-it-hall Zeppelins
Aug 16, 2015
Aug 16, 2015 at 9:26 AM UTC
Silhouetted against a blank
Wall, lips curving
Dangerously;
Be still, my tender
Heart, your rapid palpitations will no
Longer be rewarded. In
Dreams your
Existence thrives within my own,
Five fingers wrapped
Around
Five fingers.
Slowly we were twisting, devoid of
Grace.
Once you were in full bloom.
A thousand repressed seeds,
Little
Whisps of hope sauntered effortlessly
From your lips,
released;
I was the warm summer wind, tugging each
Delightful murmur free,
Languishing in
The wealth, the weight of those promises, the scent
Of a new beginning..
How soon it became Autumn,
Your leaves tinged
With brown
Crumpling up, one
By one.
Those sweet seeds
Quickly made a home within the belly
Of a love ravenous
Fool, dissolving as
Steadfast as acid corrodes
bone.
Away, away....
You drifted purposely,
Without purpose.
Languidly, you attempted to brush away
The words, the very sentiments
That have stuck
To my ribs,
Like oatmeal.
What lives within the
Contoured ridges of your soul must be one hell
Of a mess.
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 11:13 PM UTC
Farewell to heart palpitations and sweaty palms
Goodbye to quick breathing and butterflies
Hello to a numb heart, cold and unfeeling
Lost in a daze of what ifs and maybes
Do I want her
Do I want this
A never ending cycle of toxicity
I warned you to stay away
And yet you keep on pushing
Stay away from my friends and stay away from me
I don't need your vile presence soaking up my inner peace
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 6:47 PM UTC
I know some deep pain saddens you now
It has been nesting in your heart for long
Breeding in the silence of your soul
It leaves your body n' mind awfully sick
It intensifies with every deepening night
Leaving the wound in your heart severely bleeding
Something that you haven’t fully divulged
Robbing you off all your cheer and ebullience,
I can feel the smoldering of your heart
How I wish I could fan away those aches
Wipe off all the pain from your body n' mind
Or at least share a bit of it, dear sweet Kim!
Even when you wear a mask impenetrable
Or sublimate your feelings through lovely verse
I can gauge the depth of despair you feel inside
And sense the rising palpitations of your heart.
When your eyes strain to read what is on the screen
You feel, you are deprived of the only pleasure you have
Though you hoped things would improve in course of time
When your eyesight got badly impaired, you sank in despair
Even when distanced, please know I am near
Somewhere so close, as an unseen presence
Staying by your side, to wipe your tears away
Praying for you ever and wishing you all good
You were the darling of this great poetry site
Your presence is sorely missed by all
We wish you to be back with your balmy words
Eager to read your lovely verse, proclaiming love
Life is strange with sudden twists and turns
But never ever give up, nor lose hope
Believe, at any time there can be a turn around
After the bleary night, comes the bright morn
Again the sun shall show up in the East
Darkness will recede and light shall descend
The meadows with dew drops shall shine
And the woods with the song of birds will ring
Look up to God in issues you cannot handle
Call Him again to your aid when you battle with life
He cannot but yield to the voice of your calling
And instantly heal your heart, now deeply bleeding
May 19, 2018
May 19, 2018 at 1:18 PM UTC
He is safe. He is happiness. He is everything.
He takes away the anxiety. He takes away the hurt. He takes away the pain.
He makes you love yourself. He makes you feel like you aren’t alone.
He keeps away the nightmares.
He holds you. He tells you all the things you need to hear. He pushes you to be a better person.
*Without him you are afraid. Without him you are unbearably sad. Without him you are nothing.
Without him you are anxious and bed ridden. Without him you are ridden with depression. Without him you are in constant psychological pain.
Without him you hate yourself. Without him you are alone and always will be.
Without him you have nightmares and sleep paralysis that never seem to end.
Without him you are cold. Without him you are no longer pretty- you are no longer anyone’s favourite person; you are no longer loved. Without him you’re an awful person and no one wants to be around you.*
He is security. He is life. He is air.
He makes you do things you never thought you could.
You aren’t afraid to be with him. He makes the voices go away. He makes the paranoid feelings less intense.
You can touch him without feeling like you’re having a heart attack. You can kiss him without feeling like you’re going to faint. You can lay with him and not feel like something bad is going to happen.
*Without him you are lost. Without him you want to die- there’s nothing keeping you here but him. Without him you can’t breathe; you feel like you’re drowning- suffocating, always.
You’ve always been afraid of anyone with romantic feelings towards you. You’re always afraid of people touching you or kissing you or anything that relates to intimacy- but you’ve never felt that with him. There have never been heart palpitations. There have never been anxiety ridden shakes and hot flashes. You’ve never felt faint around him. You crave his kisses- you want him to hold you.
Without him you’re afraid of everyone and everything. You never leave the house. You never go see friends. You’re too scared to live your life- you’re too afraid to die. You barely exist.*
***But worst of all- without him, you’re left alone to have to deal with me.
Without him, us voices come back to taunt you and we’ll never go away.***
Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 10:54 AM UTC