"parch" poems
Iron bench, open sore
dragon rock, three in score
flesh on body, tortured soul
arms high, in hell's hole
Corner bulb, neon light
drake hotel, second flight
jolly pop, rizla plus
open flame, behind the bus
Broken fixtures, tully hat
channel swimmer, at the bat
blind alley, words of cuss
dealer waving, in a fuss
Grim reaper, boys in blue
super bee, armored shrew
****** sips, swollen glands
potpourri, on demand
Black death, huddler's arch
beat the cold, and summer parch
toothless grin, ****** glare
obituary, to be shared
Dead of night, decontrol
cheeva tar, black coal
east central, chinatown
mr. freeze, is coming down
Foot soldier, skidder row
chicken feed, and white blow
silver spoon, casted hand
demons surface, on demand
Frantic sounds, below the glass
poison waiting, to be passed
crack pipes, over coat
bodies flat, begin to float
Gospel sounds, from union square
friends gather, deep in prayer
guardian angels, now deployed
thornton park, without a void
Covenant house, in holy charm
welcomes all, with open arms
salvation spreads, on chapel row
kindness that, cannot be sold
Oct 14, 2017
Oct 14, 2017 at 5:36 PM UTC
I pray thee sun thou should set,
or take thy leave better yet,
wouldst at last my thirst be gone,
But alas thee linger, and linger on.
There be no flower not yet dead,
no water flows in yonder river bed.
'Tis a heat where nought doth grow,
nor doth thee ever mercy show.
Dry of skin and parch of throat,
a man doth need no overcoat.
Thy rays doth burn mine eyes,
they do not hear mine mercy cries.
If there be a place where chill be found,
'Tis there it be that I be bound,
A place where there be no burning sun,
show it to me, so to it I shall run.
(c) 26th January 2010
with apoligies to all you Shakespeare freaks
Jan 26, 2011
Jan 26, 2011 at 1:48 PM UTC
Translation From Catullus.
Equal to Jove that youth must be—
Greater than Jove he seems to me—
Who, free from Jealousy’s alarms,
Securely views thy matchless charms;
That cheek, which ever dimpling glows,
That mouth, from whence such music flows,
To him, alike, are always known,
Reserv’d for him, and him alone.
Ah! Lesbia! though ’tis death to me,
I cannot choose but look on thee;
But, at the sight, my senses fly,
I needs must gaze, but, gazing, die;
Whilst trembling with a thousand fears,
Parch’d to the throat my tongue adheres,
My pulse beats quick, my breath heaves short,
My limbs deny their slight support;
Cold dews my pallid face o’erspread,
With deadly languor droops my head,
My ears with tingling echoes ring,
And Life itself is on the wing;
My eyes refuse the cheering light,
Their orbs are veil’d in starless night:
Such pangs my nature sinks beneath,
And feels a temporary death.
8.2k
.
**•...mouth
wide op-
en, glis-
tening...
in the li-
ght•aw-
aiting to
swallow
this lone
piece of parch-
ment•on it i've scribbled
all my heart could write•bea-
ring sweet nothings, sure and si-
lent•now... take this scroll•down
your neck... it'll effortlessly slide...
•to the core of your very soul•my
message would follow your gui-
de•your opening i'd then gladly
seal •so your contents would...
remain guarded • time is now
to set adrift all i feel...•....now
ride the waves through jour-
ney uncharted•let the curr-
ents take you• let the tides
and winds be your friends
• ... my quiet well wishes
would see you through •
in hopes that you would
be received by my love's
deserving... and... open**
hands•
Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 7:45 AM UTC
Seventeen men standing on a shaft
Of grey sunlight
Seventeen men waiting for a draft
Of black and white
Seventeen men all proud and blind
For the victory
Seventeen men all loony in their mind
Oh contradictory
Seventeen men fervent on a march
To their slow doom
Seventeen men die, drop, and parch
Not enough room
Seventeen men are abandoned prostrate
On the battlefield
Seventeen men become slaves to their state
All their hearts are sealed
Seventeen men praised above the ground
Lie breathlessly beneath
Seventeen men glorified by the pound
Their graves, their souls bequeath
Seventeen men were in love with an idea and went to war
Seventeen men died for a border and fought for a *****
Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 4:07 PM UTC
In her dream, a cataract torrent
Crashes to effervescence,
Force and verve, vivacious apparent,
Shoots arrowed iridescence.
In reality, a rivulet meanders,
Blind to mountain, fountain and fell,
Downhill she flows, barely seen,
Pebbles 'n stones part of her scene.
Here she circumvents boulder and rock,
There gives way to shout and shock,
Hiding her head between her knees
She longs to lose herself in the seas.
I knelt down close to hear her cries,
Allowed her tears wash over my eyes,
Caressed her soft water with my hand,
Sprinkled her sweetness o'er the land.
'Sweet stream', I whisper'd, 'The waterfall you dream,
Lives through its awful roar ‘n terror,
But life lives not in its awesome scream,
Life lives not in its horror.'
'Without you, doe could not parch their thirst,
Frogs would not breed or dippers immerse.
Heavenly daughter, jeweled traverse,
One silent ripple is an angel's universe.’
Mar 1, 2019
Mar 1, 2019 at 8:12 AM UTC
Dans le fond des forêts votre image me suit.
RACINE
There is a panther stalks me down:
One day I'll have my death of him;
His greed has set the woods aflame,
He prowls more lordly than the sun.
Most soft, most suavely glides that step,
Advancing always at my back;
From gaunt hemlock, rooks croak havoc:
The hunt is on, and sprung the trap.
Flayed by thorns I trek the rocks,
Haggard through the hot white noon.
Along red network of his veins
What fires run, what craving wakes?
Insatiate, he ransacks the land
Condemned by our ancestral fault,
Crying: blood, let blood be spilt;
Meat must glut his mouth's raw wound.
Keen the rending teeth and sweet
The singeing fury of his fur;
His kisses parch, each paw's a briar,
Doom consummates that appetite.
In the wake of this fierce cat,
Kindled like torches for his joy,
Charred and ravened women lie,
Become his starving body's bait.
Now hills hatch menace, spawning shade;
Midnight cloaks the sultry grove;
The black marauder, hauled by love
On fluent haunches, keeps my speed.
Behind snarled thickets of my eyes
Lurks the lithe one; in dreams' ambush
Bright those claws that mar the flesh
And hungry, hungry, those taut thighs.
His ardor snares me, lights the trees,
And I run flaring in my skin;
What lull, what cool can lap me in
When burns and brands that yellow gaze?
I hurl my heart to halt his pace,
To quench his thirst I squander blook;
He eats, and still his need seeks food,
Compels a total sacrifice.
His voice waylays me, spells a trance,
The gutted forest falls to ash;
Appalled by secret want, I rush
From such assault of radiance.
Entering the tower of my fears,
I shut my doors on that dark guilt,
I bolt the door, each door I bolt.
Blood quickens, gonging in my ears:
The panther's tread is on the stairs,
Coming up and up the stairs.
3k
You do not water me daily,
You allow me to parch
And count the seasons I perennate
With only a drop of what I thought
Was especially for me.
You do not tend to me,
You let me need you needfully;
You burrow deep into my soil
And untangle my roots,
You knew exactly the right fertilizer
To get me to grow.
You do not take me in at night,
You leave me in a greenhouse
I shared with the rest of other plants
You couldn't pick from,
Shivering, waiting for another day
I happen to flush rosier petals
And get your attention again.
You do not choose me,
You do not own me,
You do not love me;
You are not the gardener,
No you are not.
You are just a confused collector,
Visiting every parterre,
Plucking all the best flowers,
Chancing for the greatest find
Without the intention of keeping it.
You are not the gardener,
No you are not.
You are just a collector,
A lonely little lad
Running out of other pastimes;
And I am just a hobby
You do not take to heart.
But I am not a flower,
No I just am not.
I am the vase
Holding the flower
You knew could use your sunshine,
So you let it hang right where
It is almost there.
But I am not a flower,
No I just am not.
I am the vase
Holding that flower;
Maybe a porcelain you can break
Into many brittle pieces,
But never a plant
You can watch dry and die and be dust,
No I just cannot be.
I am a vase,
Not a flower;
And you are not the gardener.
I do not belong in your collection.
Nov 16, 2013
Nov 16, 2013 at 5:59 AM UTC
There’s a woman like a dewdrop, she ’s so purer than the purest;
And her noble heart ’s the noblest, yes, and her sure faith’s the surest:
And her eyes are dark and humid, like the depth on depth of lustre
Hid i’ the harebell, while her tresses, sunnier than the wild-grape cluster,
Gush in golden-tinted plenty down her neck’s rose-misted marble:
Then her voice’s music … call it the well’s bubbling, the bird’s warble!
And this woman says, ‘My days were sunless and my nights were moonless,
Parch’d the pleasant April herbage, and the lark’s heart’s outbreak tuneless,
If you loved me not!’ And I who (ah, for words of flame!) adore her,
Who am mad to lay my spirit prostrate palpably before her—
I may enter at her portal soon, as now her lattice takes me,
And by noontide as by midnight make her mine, as hers she makes me!
2.2k
Music
by Stephen Vincent Benet
My friend went to the piano; spun the stool
A little higher; left his pipe to cool;
Picked up a fat green volume from the chest;
And propped it open.
Whitely without rest,
His fingers swept the keys that flashed like swords,
. . . And to the brute drums of barbarian hordes,
Roaring and thunderous and weapon-bare,
An army stormed the bastions of the air!
Dreadful with banners, fire to slay and parch,
Marching together as the lightnings march,
And swift as storm-clouds. Brazen helms and cars
Clanged to a fierce resurgence of old wars
Above the screaming horns. In state they passed,
Trampling and splendid on and sought the vast-
Rending the darkness like a leaping knife,
The flame, the noble pageant of our life!
The burning seal that stamps man's high indenture
To vain attempt and most forlorn adventure;
Romance, and purple seas, and toppling towns,
And the wind's valiance crying o'er the downs;
That nerves the silly hand, the feeble brain,
From the loose net of words to deeds again
And to all courage! Perilous and sharp
The last chord shook me as wind shakes a harp!
. . . And my friend swung round on his stool, and from gods we were men,
"How pretty!" we said; and went on with our talk again.
2k
anthems sweet as honey
a cup overflowing
break the power of money
it is now or never
a short life i have
the width of my hand
oh YHVH save this land
from now until forever
drag the thorns from our flesh
make us whole
our parched souls now fresh
our governors hunger for power
they mimic mammon
but the Lord our satisfying Power
bring my heart to tears
make it after Your own
a love that tears all fears
to save the lost at any cost
bless those spiritually in arrears
oh YHVH, i beseech Thee
you have been so good to me
parch our land from greed
that we may wealthily drink from Thee
may this psalm that leaked from my hand
bring praise to YHVH in every land
Jul 6, 2016
Jul 6, 2016 at 3:39 AM UTC
Descry the glittering sand,
Every coin is vestal, unused.
He cast unto the well,
Uttering a spell
That dwindled on his aching lips.
Amiss, his voice does not graze
Her conscious divination.
A thousand times again,
He strives-
Just for a spare thought.
But the fool, consumed, controlled
Wallows in the walls
She sculpts around him.
He begins to work away the vines
Of her honied tendrils.
Yet, each finger twined of gossamers,
Drenched in delirium.
Nay, she rejects his presence.
But grants her endless visitations
As a specter, with a Faustian kiss.
He drinks of her,
To parch his arid throat.
Remote, he holds the seed
Which festers within.
Forever.
Jan 30, 2021
Jan 30, 2021 at 9:00 PM UTC
Winter makes it sleep
Summer sun, power to parch
Spring, victorious
Jun 18, 2012
Jun 18, 2012 at 12:10 PM UTC
To properly show you my journeys
I would have to take you back
Hop into my little car
And spin the wheels of time
My life is like a glass globe
That rolls fast along a concrete floor
All the bumps and rocks
Crack the states and memories
And I sleep with both eyes broken
All these things I've seen
Faces
And voices stuck deep within the
Winding, twisting caverns of my head
They parch my throat
And to quench this thirst
Rest?
Let me bend to you
One whisper
So that you may breathe
Similar breaths of knowing
And then...
...then you can tell me
"Keep going"
And you might realize
She just needs to stop
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 2:50 PM UTC
Parched in a tree,
Watching the prey with glee.
Seeing them scurry and run without limitation,
Makes me pounce without hesitation.
I grasp the prey sqirumining,
Hearing the voice of them worming.
I clench my claws over there body,
I pierce it’s hide,
And my talons get ******
It starts shaking with false life, shaking and shaking,
Until it gives in and all the meat is for the taking,
All the death is for the taking.
I parch in a tree to enjoy my feast,
And watch see the sun rising in the east.
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 3:31 PM UTC
O Love, Love, Love! O withering might!
O sun, that from thy noonday height
Shudderest when I strain my sight,
Throbbing thro' all thy heat and light,
Lo, falling from my constant mind,
Lo, parch'd and wither'd, deaf and blind,
I whirl like leaves in roaring wind.
Last night I wasted hateful hours
Below the city's eastern towers:
I thirsted for the brooks, the showers:
I roll'd among the tender flowers:
I crush'd them on my breast, my mouth;
I look'd athwart the burning drouth
Of that long desert to the south.
Last night, when some one spoke his name,
From my swift blood that went and came
A thousand little shafts of flame
Were shiver'd in my narrow frame.
O Love, O fire! once he drew
With one long kiss my whole soul thro'
My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew.
Before he mounts the hill, I know
He cometh quickly: from below
Sweet gales, as from deep gardens, blow
Before him, striking on my brow.
In my dry brain my spirit soon,
Down-deepening from swoon to swoon,
Faints like a daled morning moon.
The wind sounds like a silver wire,
And from beyond the noon a fire
Is pour'd upon the hills, and nigher
The skies stoop down in their desire;
And, isled in sudden seas of light,
My heart, pierced thro' with fierce delight,
Bursts into blossom in his sight.
My whole soul waiting silently,
All naked in a sultry sky,
Droops blinded with his shining eye:
I will possess him or will die.
I will grow round him in his place,
Grow, live, die looking on his face,
Die, dying clasp'd in his embrace.
1.5k
It has been seven years since Paddy posted his last poem. I am taking the previlege to bring it back up top. Please read his poems.
Paddy Martin Jan 2011
An Australian Summer Sonnet.
I pray thee sun thou should set,
or take thy leave better yet,
wouldst at last my thirst be gone,
But alas thee linger, and linger on.
There be no flower not yet dead,
no water flows in yonder river bed.
'Tis a heat where nought doth grow,
nor doth thee ever mercy show.
Dry of skin and parch of throat,
a man doth need no overcoat.
Thy rays doth burn mine eyes,
they do not hear mine mercy cries.
If there be a place where chill be found,
'Tis there it be that I be bound,
A place where there be no burning sun,
show it to me, so to it I shall run.
(c) 26th January 2010
with apoligies to all you Shakespeare freaks
I was thinking how Will would have handled our Oz summer heat.
Feb 10, 2018
Feb 10, 2018 at 3:42 PM UTC
If the wind is parch white
And the universe stops
And listens to the words
Shape and form on the tip of my tongue
*Vultis nosse?
Vis sentiunt?*
Could I chip away the walls that separate our bodies?
Medio claustra potui dirumpere animas?
It would seem foolish, huh?
Funny, how hurt is so heavy.
Funny, how desiderium clarius est quam amor aliquando
Chant these ancient hymns
And press your lips against the sound of eternity:
*et orate
et orate
Amo te*
Oct 6, 2011
Oct 6, 2011 at 11:22 PM UTC
Morning comes late
as clouds drape below the sky
and cast disquiet
upon two anxious strangers
aware that they are not near
their designated drivers.
Last night had evolved
into a ***** romp
perpetrated by salsa dances,
smooth tequila,
accidental bumps,
and spontaneous kisses.
Shoulders simultaneously sear
beneath bed linens
as their thoughts
collide with guilt,
parch their throats and
secrete sweat across their palms.
Tabloid images flash
across the screens of their minds.
Last night’s exploit
bears consequences,
echoes of lust.
Nov 19, 2012
Nov 19, 2012 at 9:15 PM UTC
Worm,
cant't you stand a little rain?
A puddle here,
a puddle there
You squirm so helplessly,
desperately seeking out higher ground,
hurriedly scurrying for shelter,
but stuck in a rut
for want of dry land
Some lay before you,
fully defeated,
a mass exodus of worm refugees
The blazing sun
shall work against you,
to parch the ground below
How cruel does this world
seem towards you
when all you want is to stay alive?
To survive,
to thrive,
for one more day
Nov 26, 2009
Nov 26, 2009 at 12:00 PM UTC
I've seen more than enough love songs
That say the the same thing in different ways
Too many hearts don't reflect the meaning of their names.
Her name means "promise". All I see is pain.
Rejection
Hate
Distaste
Disdain
Why are sad stories so difficult to tell?
The oceans in my skull have filled enough wells.
I'm thirsty for love, not sirens and liquid salt.
This cistern of sadness will not parch the thoughts that won't depart.
I'm sitting on a sleet covered street bench
And I only wish the city was as dark as the sky,
But oscillations of red and blue clarify
The night and who it belongs to.
Christmas colors aren't these
There's no green,
The same absence as the trees.
Hearts as cold as this arctic breeze.
Feb 17, 2014
Feb 17, 2014 at 1:18 AM UTC
I gate the desires
like veins does blood
As my temptress
bolds my love
Cheeks talk white
Tongues see thin
I kiss the dreams
And plush my sin
The seven truths
A bridge to burn
I kiss your soil
I parch your fern
I steal your breath
Amp your light
I'm shadow between
Silk and night
I am the art
Within your book
I am the castle
To your rook
The calyx face
So bee Devine
I make honey
One kiss a time
Jun 19, 2017
Jun 19, 2017 at 1:28 AM UTC
I told the swifts they’d got it wrong
I watched them glide and dip and play
The sky was of the richest hue
Without a the slightest hint of grey
But slowly as the day wore on
The clouds began to blot the light
And doubts began to fill my head
Could the swifts have got it right?
Of course they had, why even ask
No confusion in their feathery heads
The clues were plain, the signs were clear
The rain would come, as soon as said
And so it did, with lightening flash
With thunderous roar and constant pound
With drops the size of apricots
To slake the tired and parch-ed ground.
We mustn’t doubt our fellow creatures
They feel things that we’d never sense
Watch for signs and **** an ear
And bow to Nature’s sapience.
Stuart Williamson August 2016 ©
Nov 30, 2017
Nov 30, 2017 at 7:17 AM UTC