"partings" poems
Testaments wrote in language
Of old
Incantations,
Spells,
Elixirs,
To put hair on your chest,
"But accidents can happen"
Never sniff the jar full of mystery
Or you'll nose about it for weeks,
Platting,
Braiding,
Partings,
Upon it, styles just to hide the sight
Its growing from your nose in fact,
Do you like my
Moustache,
As you
Sneeze,
And then the secrets are out,
Mischief with papers of old
Noses shouldn't go
"Where noses shouldn't go"
Incantations,
Spells,
Elixirs,
Are for professionals, not those
"Nosy individuals"
Who should put things
Where they should nose they shouldn't go..
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 6:46 PM UTC
aɪ love the slipping vaʊwels
That seɪ yʊər neɪme
In gliding təʊnes that form my lips to a kiss.
The səʊnd of it brings comforting warmth.
The world disappɪəring
In the seɪfe enfolding of yʊər arms,
Naʊ peɪn and tɪərs of sadness
Are companions to the memory of yʊər passing
Once peəred and jɔɪned
United as one,
aɪ thought,
Forever.
This child’s nəʊtion was innocent of aweəreness
That love’s lexicon is full of such partings
Naʊ aləʊne aɪ strive to grasp an ember of a truth profaʊnd
That while a part of me will alweɪs
Call for you in whispers
And long for yʊər embreɪce
aɪ’ll preveɪl , surviving separation’s sting.
A tribute
Still standing,
Praʊd
And saʊnd.
Mar 10, 2010
Mar 10, 2010 at 11:02 PM UTC
Potted daisy by the window sill
is in love with Mr. Sunshine - the morning brings.
Dapper and Radiant and oh! So warm!
Daisy is spellbound by his charm.
At every first blush ...
she sings her song...
that his love makes her tall , that his love keeps her strong.
But as the daylight begins to wane
Ms. Daisy feels partings strain .
With the setting dusk
the waning glow
the night is set in Indigo
Repose Ms. Daisy , don't rue for the day
For , Mr. Sunshine is but a few hours away !
Aug 30, 2016
Aug 30, 2016 at 10:50 AM UTC
Willow herb floating
on silent certainty
ashes of sighs
not fleeting,
unvapoured on the
blossom of the rain,
I am too light to
pull or push
the swing of delight
through this land.
The rain left me for a
while
sun unshielding
-a thousand widows
more unyielding than the depths . .
Once shadowed whisperers
of delight,gossamer
sparkling , descending
their chains
of necromantic hope.
Lilith is no night owl
she is mother, eve
and my becoming:
sweet earth spun
at once ,
exhaling her .
The see saw
bumped gently
on my chin
it is a most gentle
form of awakening.
The silence bore no whispers
till sinking through the quicksand
-or was it quicksilver?
-in any case I could smell little
in my amniotic amnesia.
I made ten thousand friends,till their soap
made this place clean.
Is this a seed or a dying
hopefulness
-is my sallow sowing
beyond all shores of
reproduction;
a reflection of the child
they dared not bear?
Is my last breath like this
a forgotton yielding
will they catch me
as I fall ?
-(sweet earth)-
This moth of my ending,
a shallow recantation,
my fears-
their memories, mere
testubes of
stylish hope .
I breathe the elegant stare
you have forgotten .
Once more free
from such
rememberance
I need not ,
remained not ,
your imploded ,
wakefulness .
A thousand pardons
exhaled like silk
entwining
an unfinished race
spider of a thousand eyes .
One may say
I was
stared
to death
but surrogate air
mocks childish pity.
Taut refelexions
bear salt echoes
in silk convulsions
fresh water
a veneered hope .
Easier in death than life
is a child's sorrowed
partings ,
the illusion of
bouyancy
rippled tides
unfelt.
The oceans have not enough salt
for such shrunken sorrow.
if we could but once
have shared
unbreathed aspersion .
The room has come and gone
the pillow quite undry
unforgotten
unremembered.
A web untouched
Sep 27, 2010
Sep 27, 2010 at 7:46 AM UTC
...Short partings do best, though: time wears out affections,
The absent love fades, a new one takes its place.
With Menelaus away, Helen's disinclination for sleeping
Alone led her into her guest's
Warm bed at night. Were you crazy, Menelaus?
Why go off leaving your wife
With a stranger in the house? Do you trust doves to falcons,
Full sheepfolds to mountain wolves?
Here Helen's not at fault, the adulterer's blameless -
He did no more than you, or any man else,
Would do yourself. By providing place and occasion
You precipitated the act. What else did she do
But act on your clear advice? Husband gone; this stylish stranger
Here on the spot; too scared to sleep alone -
Oh, Helen wins my acquittal, the blame's her husband's:
All she did was take advantage of a man's
Human complaisance. And yet, more savage than the tawny
Boar in his rage, as he tosses the maddened dogs
On lightening tusks, or a lioness suckling her unweaned
Cubs, or the tiny adder crushed
By some careless foot, is a woman's wrath, when some rival
Is caught in the bed she shares. Her feelings show
On her face. Decorum's flung to the wind, a maenadic
Frenzy grips her, she rushes headlong off
After fire and steel... .
3.4k
Faded memories
lose their colour
and conversation
Alive
but wearing thin
with each recollection
and overlapped
by the heartache
meetings
kisses
and partings
tomorrow holds so close
Destined to be replaced
and painfully short lived
So fades another day
and another
and another
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 3:16 PM UTC
A gloomy day is upon us when the leaves fall,
glistening under the sun as they slowly make their way to ground
Like the wave of a hand, flopping inward and out,
as it motions goodbye.
When the sun is setting and bleeds into the sky
with the oils of a canvas of war
****** red, sinking into the horizon,
gradually burying itself into Earth.
And when the birds decide to leave us in winter,
heading North, like an arrow below the clouds,
signalling to our safety, but we stay nestled around;
we cannot fly.
When the stream’s path has been broken,
and gravity summons the waters to the deadest of ends,
a puddle of joy is formed,
for us to bathe away our sins.
When stars shimmer in the darkest of night
false wishes, like false hopes,
but we look at them and smile.
We marvel at this beauty,
because we wish our partings were as breath-taking.
We wish our tears didn’t look so ugly,
and our hearts wouldn’t ache
and our breaths weren’t so shallow,
as we realize it is time to say farewell.
In nature, everything comes back,
The sun rises again, the leaves grow,
and the birds return to their land,
stars are reborn even waters feed our plants.
But we, we stay just where we are,
and learn to redirect our melancholy,
our energy,
to nature…
Underground.
Sep 30, 2012
Sep 30, 2012 at 9:06 AM UTC
Wise men in their bad hours have envied
The little people making merry like grasshoppers
In spots of sunlight, hardly thinking
Backward but never forward, and if they somehow
Take hold upon the future they do it
Half asleep, with the tools of generation
Foolishly reduplicating
Folly in thirty-year periods; the eat and laugh too,
Groan against labors, wars and partings,
Dance, talk, dress and undress; wise men have pretended
The summer insects enviable;
One must indulge the wise in moments of mockery.
Strength and desire possess the future,
The breed of the grasshopper shrills, "What does the future
Matter, we shall be dead?" Ah, grasshoppers,
Death's a fierce meadowlark: but to die having made
Something more equal to the centuries
Than muscle and bone, is mostly to shed weakness.
The mountains are dead stone, the people
Admire or hate their stature, their insolent quietness,
The mountains are not softened nor troubled
And a few dead men's thoughts have the same temper.
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 9:19 AM UTC
The karvings of this awe-full fantasy amplifies,
the throbbing of my freezing heart.
The shapelessness of the kloud whispers,
wonderful mysteries in inaudible murmurs.
The blue-orange painted kanvas above.
The silhouette of the mountains that hide,
behind the undaunted smokes that forms.
The opening that the heavens made,
to show the earth its dazzling threshold.
Gradually.
Sensationally.
Approaching the land with unfathomable ardor.
Devout of the seamless tenuous night,
Gangas klangs echoes through the cold.
Lumps of land deprive the moment of silence,
as the people sing to the gods with reverence.
Heareth me, O goddess of the krops!
O god o'er all the mountains come see;
How gracefully she stood before me.
While the pyre gives emphasis to her figure.
*Kurves of the kreseant resembles her smile;
edges of her lips sink.
Beautiful exkavation mark on her left cheek,*
all in perfekt symmetry; perfektion in all she is.
"Saya Suka Awak" I told her.
that very moment:
Sparkling of the stars devoured our eyes.
Sweetest morose partings seeped in voiceless lullabies;
in unison with symphonic notes lulling unsaid goodbyes.
Through the last movement of vagueness the moment subsides.
For the love that profess fades,
with the chilly thin air it travels;
back to the heart of the other.
Oceans apart they were,
yet atop the mountains. . .
love blossomed.
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 9:33 AM UTC
Dust gathers everywhere.
Only a swab on the windscreen is clear
on my dust-laden car.
Too tight to wear,
the ring
vibrates vigorously on the washing machine.
The cycle is ending. Intensity waxing.
A song of the solitary koel
serenades a reverie.
I open the screen from inside.
You, the windows from the outside.
Glances exchanged from either side.
It is the time of the late flower.
A drop, even a drop of hot water,
the skin craves for a touch.
In partings, a beginning.
In still winds, all the leaves silent.
Peace comes visiting, a migratory bird
and sits sagely by the bare stalks,
in a hurry to reach
far off lands beyond the seas.
You only get a moment: a moment
when the world freezes.
May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 1:16 PM UTC
We conquer foul play caused by past discrepancies
Somewhere along the chart, hearts sink into the sand
Scars caused by burned skin never change their shape
Even when nursed back to health, they still hold the same print.
The pleasure that you speak of is too far in the distance,
All moves are read with a cautious eye
Feelings cannot be talked off the overhanging ledge
The fire of pain cannot be put out inside.
Roads do not just lay out paths before us,
They form partings of what was once a unified land.
Promised deliveries are only distractions
So the forbidden can again be secretly admired.
Why does the bond have to be evolved?
Why does it have to mean coexist as the separate?
We all live lives so solitary and curious
Where there is always a bit left on the side.
Hopeless and heartless is what we are left with
The more we go on the less we can hold onto in pride.
Call the delivery man for food, love and friendship
When we are done we tell him to go on and drive.
All feels like an existence in a video game
Where all the lights are made to be blinding
Same pages may exist but
How they are read is never beloved again.
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 10:00 AM UTC
I sit with my afro, tall and round like the trees
I sit with my afro between my mother's knees
And I cry.
She thinks it's because she pulled my hair
I let her feel guilty but really that's not fair
Because it's you.
So as my mother glides the comb through my onyx curls
Your web of lies begins to unfurl
And all at once you were my world
But now you're nothing.
My mother's hands twist my hair into braids
Partings in more ways than one have been made
Memories like my brother's fade
But not for you.
Yours are stronger than my mother's hands
Yet as soft as my Indian strands
And how I wish I could get the clippers and shave
my head and watch my memories of you fall away
But I can't.
So as my mother braids my hair down my back
I remember you and try to forget the fact
That you ran your hands through this Raven hair
Shielded my now tear streaked face from the frozen air
Forget that you loved the coarse strands
As much as the Indian; soft in your hands
So I lock away these memories with each braid
And try to prove to myself that I'm more afraid
Of losing my afro than losing you.
I tell myself that it's my mother pulling that makes me cry
But you and I,
Know that's not true.
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 8:35 PM UTC
Morning is not my time of day,
That's when concepts float away,
Across the garden, down the lane,
Through the gate at Hester Payne's.
Teacher's pet and top pass,
Hester sits eyes front in class,
With rubbers straight and pencils sharp,
A clean page ready to start.
I, of course, am running late,
Hair a-fly, face scrubbed in haste.
Chasing my thoughts, I see them now,
Bouncing ahead: _’Where? Why? How?’_
Miss Armitage says I can do better,
Just follow her lead to the letter.
She raps twice: _’Attention, please!’_
We all fall quiet - three sniffs, one sneeze.
_’Now settle down, it's time to count.’_
Braids and partings turn around
To face the board and I'm up first.
Chalk in hand, could things get worse?
In front of Danny, in front of Sue,
In front of Seamus. And you know who?
Three plus three, then five times six,
Square root of nine, just take your pick.
Six and...thirty...three, I'm sure.
Or was that seven? Maybe four.
My mouth goes dry, I stare and blink.
Lord knows, I find it hard to think.
Up the corridor, down the stairs,
Right then left, my thoughts in pairs,
Sift and swirl and giddy about.
_’Behave yourself, now cut that out!’_
_’Come back here, where you belong.
Don't wonder off! Don't make me wrong!’_
I scratch my answers, the class is aghast,
It seems I've something right at last.
Hester sighs, as glum as can be,
For today...this morning...for everyone to see,
My thoughts have stuck with me.
Dec 15, 2018
Dec 15, 2018 at 12:33 AM UTC
Laughter, giggles, smiles.
Tears, heartbreaks, pains.
Success, failures, mistakes.
Loves, bodies, unions, partings.
Births, deaths.
Life keeps moving on,
even when we don't.
Time ceases, moments stop...life goes on.
Life got to do, what it got to do!
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 11:33 AM UTC
~
“Snowflakes gather in crystalline drfitings”
Lifting your hair, kissing the nape of your neck
Warm flesh waits on tippy toe desires
Lips brush skin, lower beyond silver chain clasp
Sighs slip past moon shadow echoes
“Frost bitten warnings fuel whistling winds”
Candlelight flickers in illumined frenzy
Strong hands caress velvet curves, moving
Satin ******* excite at the touch, firming
Mouths meet across milky shoulders
“Chilly coatings mingle, drafty windows squeal”
Reaching behind delicate fingers guide, slowly
Passion emanates from quivered partings
Honey drippings moisten, sticky, sweet
Whispered moans tantalize, moments ignite
“Wind chimes sing frantically behind icicle curtains”
Down pillow yearnings, grasped, held
Eyes look back, smiles meet motions
Held closer, breathless exhales on dreams exposed
Deeper finds the pristine moment
“Algid gusts wail through frigid echoed alleyways”
My name, loudly called, enchanted nirvana
Faster still, bodies in charged friction
Two become one, senses explode, flooding oasis
Eruptions quake bodies in perspired heap
“Arctic blast pierces sweltering pleasures”
Ecstasy sings in midnight harmonies
Melodic as the polar pulsations beyond
Numbed in devotion’s destinations
Wondrous snowy white blankets chill the world
“As our love provides winter’s perfect heat”
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 9:25 AM UTC
So time to and move on and goodbye.
Like the strangers we were
in all the time we sojourn together.
unemotional be
for all it is a wistless life,
aeon in aeon:
meetings and partings
****** be the vogue,
mallet-smash the mirrors
them in the halls of
spirited dreams
barefooted walk on those shards then
red be they tinged, **** if they do
for there is a pleasure in this pain
always like this, rivers that rise
high up in the hills, swelling in the rain
die dry in the heartless dunes
and a piper sounds out the songs
caravans on horizon
that them streams carried
here into their graves
for deep somewhere
subterranean buried
lies a clothed casket
broken heart, sunken dream
so let us move on. you, on,
and I, to my dance
to each their own.
Oct 9, 2016
Oct 9, 2016 at 4:46 AM UTC
If I was being honest,
I wouldn’t be here if faith wasn’t real.
All the pain I’ve been through would eat me alive
and tear apart the very part inside of me that make me who I am.
If faith wasn’t real,
tomorrow would never exist
and yesterday would have no meaning.
Counting my days would be useless
and the clock on the wall would be stuck at wherever time it stopped at.
If faith wasn’t real,
I wouldn’t believe in arcs and partings of waters.
The cross would be just another story no one would tell.
But truth is,
faith IS real,
and more importantly His love is real,
and never ending.
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 10:42 PM UTC
deeply so, have ever you thought, on a moment that you thought you knew
it? have you ever thought of
Summer with her flush
amber skin just bursting
almost apricot thick
colours professing
out her richly thatched
mouth in between the
lips of seraphs
oceans of wind that
in which a frond is bending, just almost breaking bending, in the
immense touching blood of blades of sand and grains of grass
who slough from brows of aching partings
and sore graftings.
in yourself think ever you Did
the arms of your lover
against stiffly you clutched who
lean ribs, who in them beats
mornings of song little a
filled with drifting fuzzy
daughters lazy wood's cotton
?
in summer i went to seattle and down to its neck i drew my hands
and around them i was a sweating magic light full and a blister
of smiling residue; my grin was like a girl put my tongue in her mouth
and she pulled me real close and her bumps rumpled on my bumps
and we were real slow and hot and she was gross and perfect and long
and i remember how she's scalp was like a small black jungle
that my fingers (as her teeth were like little ****** of tingling all over
my scent) marauded around the profusion of her dazzling locks
which mocked the night who was contumelious at how they made love
with,andMurdered, whate'er foolish lance or drape of light was foolish
enough to touch with them. her hair was a serious fierce laughter. and
it filled right me up. right up to my pooling blood foolishly her face
was a goddess and i was a lamb.
May 26, 2011
May 26, 2011 at 3:48 PM UTC
He scrunches up his face;
A bravura of sheer irksomeness.
Fruitless tries of wild fathom.
His act halts his face facing mine;
dawning of endless gaze.
After a splendid array of irritability all that his partings exit is a set sound of,
Tch.
Mar 16, 2018
Mar 16, 2018 at 9:44 AM UTC
Your embrace perfunctory
A trace of our history
Hesitations in your voice
Speak of your choice
Demurring eyelashes aver
It is all over- Forever.
Excuses new you innovate
Towards the door your gravitate
My eyes plead and placate
As my heart you vacate
Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 10:33 PM UTC
there's an echo of voices still talking downstairs,
conversations and laughter, pouring out through the doorway.
everything's temporary, in the right time and place
our meetings and partings all tell the same story.
in a moment of sadness there's a sweet aftertaste,
everything has its end, everyone must keep going.
there's an echo of voices still talking downstairs,
always waiting for someone to step through the doorway.
Aug 1, 2024
Aug 1, 2024 at 2:24 PM UTC
The cracks in the side-walk at the end of the road
We've walked for many years, lost our way back home
I wonder, as this ride comes to an end
It was fun while it lasted, but we know it’s all pretend
I’ll walk away with a smile to the world
The memories disappear, as we close and lock the door
Nothing lasts forever, everybody fades
Sand through the hourglass as life slips away
When you leave me, I'll bury you and all inside
Petrified forever in memory still alive
As the days bleed together since you said goodbye
Maybe we'll live forever, in another life...
Jul 29, 2013
Jul 29, 2013 at 8:48 PM UTC
Life is a colourful pageant,
Where various people come and go.
But only few of them are to stay in our hearts
While the rest only a part of the show.
The few, which in our hearts reign,
Wonderful moments we share with them,
And when the ruthless time tears up apart,
It's hard to bear the pain in the heart.
We're left with only a few colourful memories,
Which make a tear roll down the cheek,
Alas! naive you are when you hide the tear,
'cause you're heart is still as weak!
It's worthless trying to expunge the memories,
Which are indelibly graven in our hearts,
Yet you have to gather yourself and enjoy the show,
As there are many more to come --today and tomorrow.
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 9:45 AM UTC
What's to be said of two raindrops who,
in a gust of wind, form together as one-
only to be torn apart by an impending smash on new earth?
To ride the concrete that rejects them
concentrated by gravity
stomped upon by careless feet
who carry heads with no notion of the anguish they cause.
What's to be said of a world faced by an impending smash?
crumbling under each shattered drop,
countless partings of the earth
under each pounding foot,
the roots of earthling ignorance.
A world that's forced to carry endless heads
with no notion of the anguish they cause.
Feb 15, 2012
Feb 15, 2012 at 4:47 PM UTC