"passage" poems
The Wild Iris
by Louise Gluck
At the end of my suffering
there was a door.
Hear me out: that which you call death
I remember.
Overhead, noises, branches of the pine shifting.
Then nothing. The weak sun
flickered over the dry surface.
It is terrible to survive
as consciousness
buried in the dark earth.
Then it was over: that which you fear, being
a soul and unable
to speak, ending abruptly, the stiff earth
bending a little. And what I took to be
birds darting in low shrubs.
You who do not remember
passage from the other world
I tell you I could speak again: whatever
returns from oblivion returns
to find a voice:
from the center of my life came
a great fountain, deep blue
shadows on azure sea water.
103.5k
With an essence of a sultry indulgence that will entice
as often as it excites;
my words seek passage --
penetrating your psyche,
as they crawl across your thoughts.
serenading your mind with
lustful passages;
littering your innocence
with filth --
saturated in honesty
dripping with vivid insight;
conceived through insanity.
raging with passion.
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 10:38 PM UTC
Spread your passage of desire;
Warm me with your heat,
melt me with your fire.
For I am what you seek,
you are what I desire.
Mar 25, 2017
Mar 25, 2017 at 4:34 PM UTC
the walls of the inside passage
look the same from sound to straight
tugs and plugs dot the coastline
as the quartermaster rolls
giving time for evening glare
pods are in sequence
as the high tail smashes and jaws at the krill
white bellies and sea cows bob and weave
as bow heads glide over haida gwaii
northern lights dance
and tlingit chant
as the tide settles softly on savory shores
their getting hungry in hoonah
as the blue back and beating drums
mark the life blood of the sea
driftwood nets
and sitka spruce
surround the cook house
ravens and tinhorns
man the scullery
kerosene lamps flicker
as clam shells roast
on open flames
villagers stroll
on pebbled sand
*in the harbor of souls
where ships set sail
on might and mass
into the steady winds
of the golden skies*
ice fields (to the north)
of kryptonite blue
cutting hills at
a glacial pace
knuckle clouds
above the snowline
where warlocks
craft a hidden trade
trappers, skinners
muscle shoals
grizzly feasts
in kodiak bowl
determined pilgrims
on a dead horse trail
in search of gold
the holy grail
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 11:52 PM UTC
*Blue clouds gaze the wrapped sun
frozen kisses in my blood
travelling a thousand miles
to meet up with you.
There is none else walking
down this path where memories
wake up and dance
inside my armored heart.
I peeled off each kisses embrace
out of my parched lips.
I shook off the tree,
where your scent had blossomed.*
***Every step down this scarcely trodden path saw...
Each peel fall with helpless, damsel-like grace.
Brown leaves shone amber touched by fingers of the sun
Invasion of warmth through my greyed bony carapace.
Gentle tremors reverberate within with subtle anguish.
Sweet scented portal that took me back,
To the illusion of time where we once were...
In drunken stupor...laying under a star strewn canvas of black.
Senses that spoke of a great fantastical tale.
You are still here... In this cloying void with no one around...
Only that scent...your scent tugging on my core
Invisible tendrils berthing my feet back on ground.***
*Alone and wanting don't want to be anymore.
I want to feast my lungs on your skin once more.
I want to vibrate under your touch again,
In anguished anticipation and sweet pain.
I hurl your name to the echoing wind,
Blowing ferociously over the closed passage.
Only to find that I'm but elongating
the distance between our fading wishful stars.*
***Fading far only to find that I'm lost yet again,
Still harvesting a basket full of ripened hope.
Traversing planes with warped, slanted doorways,
Frantically seeking purchase on knobs with fevered gropes.
Heavy layered breaths inhaled too shallow...
Tracing missteps to decipher what it all meant.
When all is moot...weary, weathered and futile,
Forever I'll be bathing in the familiarity of your soothing, nectarous scent...***
Dajena M
ryn
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 11:50 PM UTC
An katubigan han sapa,
May iya iya man nga ganghaan,
uusa la an pag-lalagosan.
Tipakadto pakig-urusa
ha kabutngaan hiton dagat.
Tubig ako hin sapa.
Ikaw man in tubig han sapa.
Usa nga paglaom nga akon kakaptan.
Nga ikaw ug ako,
magigin' usa nga dagat
ha takna nga magkatarapo
kita -nga katubigan han sapa.
(You, Me, And The River Water)
The river water
May each have their own separate passage
Will always find its way in a similar course
Going to that meeting
In the middle of the ocean
I am a river water
You are another river water
A hope, I will keep holding on
A hope, that you and I
Will be one ocean
Coming that moment of meeting
Of us-the river waters
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 4:00 AM UTC
you are may
i am december
kisses exchanged
during the bluing hour
child like
staring at you
in wonder and amazement
frosting night
falling snow
flakes in your auburn hair
i walk you home
in the cold frigid air
holding your hand
dreaming of you
you are rare
a beacon
a lighthouse
in a storm
in my daydreams
you are the pixie, the fairy inspiring me
at night
you are the siren, i surrender to
a trifecta of youth, beauty, personality
you are refreshingly young
spring in my wintered life
preternaturally beautiful
perfection come to life
your femininity bewitching
your youth intoxicating
your mannerism seducing
i would do anything for you
oozing sensuality
innocences
of a woman on the cusp
you hunger for sophistication
to be worldly-wise
seeking passage guidance
from an experienced traveller
the trade, the deal, is timeless
refined by evolution
i am humbled
to have been chosen
the ultimate champion
of your ****** selection
in turn, you are my trophy
the spoils
of a never ending war
i know our time is short
the span of a bloom
a season at most
i know the outcome
seen the devastation
the problem is
we think we have time
Feb 4, 2019
Feb 4, 2019 at 9:20 PM UTC
In peace may you leave the shore
In love may you find the next
Save passage on your travels
until our final journey to the ground
May we meet again
Jul 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015 at 3:39 PM UTC
Cold, blue, wet, fragile, brittle, hard, steam solidified, water hardened, anger, fear, white, tensile,
steam solidified,
water hardened; you lie
in her wintered veins.
why?
"If she's awake, I'll **** you."
staccato words spoken
like a knife blade thrown...
...with malice and intent.
Her father's voice
from the bedroom next door
no sound of her mother.
The female child cowered
under her candy-striped sheets
their usual soft comfort
unnoticed
footsteps
door handle moving
light seeping into her sanctuary
her heart thudded
trying to escape her chest
as she held her breath.
"Please, please don't hear me."
a silent plea as
fear snatched her in its icy grip.
She could smell him
smell the cigarettes
smell his power.
She waited.
He backed out
returned to her mother
between her heartbeats
she heard the slap
"You are lucky this time,
***** She sleeps."
Heavy footsteps down the stairs
punctuated by her mother's tears.
~~~~~~~~~~~
The girl child had only ever blamed her mother
decades of anger and bitterness
the memory of this night buried deep.
Crazed hard ice beneath the tundra of her life.
In the third decade of the girl child's life
her mother died
alone
never forgiven for what she hadn't done
nor for what she had.
The ice remained in the girl child's veins
If anything, thicker...harder.
Then in her fifth decade this ice became water
as with the passage of life the tundra thawed
and rising with it to the surface
the truth.
Then what?
The girl child worked hard at staying warm
at keeping the ice at bay.
Not easy.
Nothing was ever said to her father.
In her sixth decade the girl child's father died
embraced in his daughter's arms
forgiven for what he had done
and for what he hadn't.
The woman had finally thawed
she was properly warm
her own love
finally able to flow
Feb 29, 2016
Feb 29, 2016 at 1:39 PM UTC
Drifting back to the ocean
like it never even happened
unraveled dreams washed clean
crystalline renaissance bestowed
by wind mountain spring waters
rising from the heart
of mother earth
A remnant light glows deeply
of one love's untamed wonders
an unfastened feather glides abandoned
rushing waters floating
alighting pilgrim blissfully sails on
stranded without wings
a fallen wild feather free as bird
wanting a place to be let free
Sun in the summer air
wind in buoyant feathered hair
softly dancing upon
wild river restless ripples
to feel the love of holding on
adrift asunder whence it touched on
destiny's far-reaching
journey yonder
holding onto flowing rivers
rolling towards the sea
The incoming tidal waters blossom
surge to greet wind river's gentle saunter
converging slackening passage
salt on feral feathered fragments
arousing currents babbling swirl
imbibed by the impassioned sea
Wild rivers' born intentions
a different kind of drifting passage
to kiss the distant horizon
where the sown sunlight settles
submerged in shoreless ocean waters
to be free all at sea at last
someone you used to know 2017
Aug 31, 2017
Aug 31, 2017 at 1:58 PM UTC
i.
A Vintage Alfajor necklace
To veil mine sovereign belle;
Betrothed for heaven's comfort
We hath already been through hell.
ii.
Ourn bygone time
Hath strengthened us for forthcoming rapture;
I'll be right next to her, in her allure
No death, forever, happily ever after.
iii.
I'll tryeth daily, tis none maby's
I'll doeth anything, for mine Filipino baby;
As tis I'll maketh her, forget her past
I'll be her bishop, she shalt be mine eternal hourglass.
iv.
As time goeth fast, I mustn't lose the thought
That tommorrow doth not always cometh, we dieth, get lost;
Though she hath found me, I knoweth what being saved mean's
I wilt liveth every day as mine last, and liveth it for mine queen.
v.
So dearest reyna, soulmate, and best friend
When thou doth readeth this, know ourn love shalt not end;
As we both understandeth, this planet is just a passage to the next
We wilt meeteth in this life, and afterward's, pag-ibig at it's best.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication
Aug 21, 2015
Aug 21, 2015 at 3:55 PM UTC
Who draws strength
from watching the passage of time
after dark
blur against the windows
of a moving train bound
for ends uncertain.
Who walks most balanced
on the beams of empty tracks.
In the shuffle of strangers
at a crosswalk, who finds
direction.
Who sees
clearer through rain.
Who finds their place
in the limbo of airport terminals,
on delayed flights
between chapters,
over open roads that branch
into tales of cities unseen,
in the turn of pages unwritten.
Who can keep track of time
during the improvised chaos of jazz,
catching notes scattered
in the winds of horns.
Who understands
that wind moves
fastest through dark places like tunnels,
during storms in late August.
Who finds their center
hurled in flight,
always coming and going.
Sep 7, 2018
Sep 7, 2018 at 8:34 AM UTC
i.
Iniibig kita
Mahal Kita;
Minamahal Kita,
Iniirog kita.
ii.
Here do I cometh, I'm on mine way. The skies art clear tonight, just a tint of fine gray; though I spread mine plumage, fracture the tone, I knoweth one day, O' verily one day- I'll findeth mine way home.
And I thinkest, when I findeth the bungalow, I wilt rest, after long
Passage alone. As thou I wilt bestow, mine Lip's on thy own; quietly humming, Sayaw tayo?
iii.
A Tagal na ah, a Tagal na ah, now I'm here mine love, I've made it mine queen; some sayest dream's don't cometh true, Only if the other's couldst find; they discern science, just not the sign's of the times.
Though we behold, the spirit and soul, and ourn creator, the crowned head of the world's; Hallowed be his name, Yahweh, father Jehovah, known also Elohim. His son Yeshua ha'mashiach, English language "Jesus the anointed one". The son above all son's. Jane, mine queen.
iv.
Iniibig kita
Mahal Kita;
Minamahal Kita,
Iniirog kita.
Tagal na ah
Tagal na ah;
Now in thy
Grip, with
Mine kiss,
On thy Lip's
I place mine
Vow's. O'
Yadid, yadid,
Never let me go
Agapi mou-
Zoi mou,
Se latrevo
Mine queen.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( àgapi mou) dedication
Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 12:07 AM UTC
Lighthouse, He Is.
To be the light for which a ship seeks
To be the beam that travels the seas
To be the star from a distant shore
To be a sign of hazardous boundaries
To be the guidance for safe passage
I am your Guiding Light
I am your Protector
I am your Safe Haven
I am your Lighthouse
I am He above all
I am your Lord
By: J.S. Petralito
March 25, 2012
God Bless
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 10:11 AM UTC
I go to the door often.
Night and summer. Crickets
lift their cries.
I know you are out.
You are driving
late through the summer night.
I do not know what will happen.
I have no claim on you.
I am one star
you have as guide; others
love you, the night
so dark over the Azores.
You have been working outdoors,
gone all week. I feel you
in this lamp lit
so late. As I reach for it
I feel myself
driving through the night.
I love a firmness in you
that disdains the trivial
and regains the difficult.
You become part then
of the firmness of night,
the granite holding up walls.
There were women in Egypt who
supported with their firmness the stars
as they revolved,
hardly aware
of the passage from night
to day and back to night.
I love you where you go
through the night, not swerving,
clear as the indigo
bunting in her flight,
passing over two
thousand miles of ocean.
11.1k
How do we begin
The music
Of love making?
Are we sure
That the language we share
Is harmonic?
Who arranges the pulse of the piece?
Who decides which beats are
Accented
Which beats
Are not?
Will they give rise
To our motif?
Will our phrases
Use repetition or contrast
Be weak or strong
****** or repose?
Will our passage
Be AABB
Or AABA?
How many themes
And how many variations
Will we play
on our
delicate instruments?
Will our cycle be
a symphony
or will we
happily create
a one movement work
with an air
of spontaneous inspiration
and call ourselves
a rhapsody?
Jan 6, 2011
Jan 6, 2011 at 6:17 PM UTC
it ain't easy, when you relate, restrict and delegate,
when you draw a narrow lane on a highway that says
only left footed
poets need apply
<>
it does not say
**slow cars stay to the right,
only trucks,
or oddly even,
no trucks**
I love seasonality,
without thickly thinking
you take a break
from the poetry writing
one day I'll figure out a way
to monetize my love poems,
publish them as Shakespeare's couple(t)s,
"new edition plus
a couple of
newfound poems!"
maybe some fools will buy some thinking Shakespeare has been, resurrected!
*love grows goes hot all over and
grow slower older
and grow colder,
in between those fine
ticklish teasing moments*
when the miracle of resurrection repeats itself
something is said
a gesture is made
a finger strokes the cheek,
unexpected
and it all comes
rushing back again,
overfilling
that coffee cup mug she bought
just(ice)
for you
*ain't gonna check how long it's been
since last I declaimed, disclaimed,
inflamed,
these pages with an only love poem
but I do know this:
it is something I think about,
It is something I know about,
it is something I feel about
daily
even on the nothing days,
when routine takes over
I know you couldn't remember of its passage,
is the waking up and the lying down to sleep*
but the poets eyes are always open his emotive secret senses,
always alert,
what's that thing they always say,
his heart just wasn't in it!
(🥴if they only knew the truth😘)
Jun 25, 2025
Jun 25, 2025 at 6:04 PM UTC
We've had a turbulent journey together
And as he pushed the bike, slowly did his hand release me
Riding the crashing waves I admit my struggle
And my childish naivety gave passage to worser threats
Yet still he stands there, waving me on my way
Even to this day, despite questionable confidences, I still turn
And still he stands there
A rebel I didn't mean to be, but I am cursed with escalating emotions
Or maybe he would say a blessing, to empathize and find strength
As memories haunt me at night, teaming with those of ill will
The sensitivity he passed on to me prevails, Innocently I am slowed
But my wheels continue turning, and my heart stays true
Though my eyes and ears remain obstructed, my heart makes a turn
And yes, he still stands there
His presence unpurposefully commands attention
And his knowledge, he gives without catch
I understand the wars he must encounter, and yet he stays calm
Giving peace to the tide, he offers nothing, but gives everything
I unconditionally love him
I honestly hold respect for him,
He indirectly teaches me
And fuels me with his love
In this moment, I turn back, not for fear of falling,
But to wave back to the man who let me go
He is no longer there, standing firm in his spot
No
My friend, my father, he rides by my side.
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 1:23 PM UTC
Racing, blind nights gone weary,
Missing like cold wind, blowin'
Trees, objects of nature caught ruthlessly divine,
Simple cognition or possible chasing lights drowning tears mark moons and mansions alike, in the presence of fire,
The great blind rat lifting it's tail, in disgrace showing motionless mass,
Get the blackness on the Jordan river death urge silently moving like herds of sheep in the hills of Holy
Thousands of nation men, trodden down with sand and mud just to get the right passage of mind and thought
A small Vietnamese girl,
About the size of a...
Nevermind the voices you hear they all come awake and slowly disappear
Droughts of ether alike in tunes I might just do without the rest of doubts hedges lawns and patios
Glazed in passionate flowers
Paradoxical a nebula unhidden,
Slow chasing the candle lit masks
Mar 7, 2015
Mar 7, 2015 at 4:29 AM UTC
God ensures everyone a shore
floating on the sea of the soul!
No stone is as solid
lying in any temple.
Light up the flame lay it on
the passage to the truthful
selfless human conscience.
Unleash from the unseen
the one true enduring origin!
The more one understands
the universe's more meaningful!
Hails from the one yet to expose
the utmost intelligent of all!
Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 9:53 AM UTC
Sometimes
I play a finger
along the cheek
of your face
in the photo of you,
my son,
imagining it's real
and you are here,
my dear.
Sometimes I think
I see you,
go along the passage
as you used to do
before your death;
but there's no one there
when I look again,
just the pain.
Sometimes I feel
your finger running
down my spine
with a gentle touch,
as if you say:
I'm here, just a little
out of reach,
out of your sight,
but I'm all right.
Sometimes I feel
a tightening of my throat,
at the mentioning
of your name,
or tears well up
in my eyes,
or I choke up
when it dawns
on me
you're no longer
here beside me,
or if you are,
I cannot see.
Sometimes
I feel a hole
in my heart,
and the blood of grief
seeps through;
miss you, son;
no more
I can say or do.
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 4:04 PM UTC
#*'Twas a time I deemed thee love;
the echoes lacked contraire
Sea moon shadows dance across
this isle of despair
Entwined flesh eyes doth ne'er perceive,
outside the mortal's scope
No sole charter giveth passage
through salty waves unknown
'Tis what I think to see thee there
on pedestals of gold
Forevermore you place thyself
on stalwart shores alone
Unfurl thy sails for distant lands;
the lighthouse shines once more
Praying to gods that long lost ship
will find its way to port.*#
May 4, 2018
May 4, 2018 at 11:58 AM UTC
When you fall out of love,
your soul drowns
into a bath of suffocation.
It wanders, lost in a realm
of pain and heartache, worse
than any imaginable nightmare.
It questions its worth,
in life, in reality...
Some say it's a
temporary wound
that heals with
time and experience.
As the saying goes...
"You have to go through the bad to get
to the good."
... how ambiguous.
How long will I have to wait?
Will there be any good?
How do I know this is true?
It's not.
This is a stab wound.
Although it will heal.
The scar tissue will
always remain,
leaving behind
unforgettable moments
in time that cannot be
changed or
replaced.
I gave those
moments to you.
I gave my heart to you.
I even let myself love you.
You were safe
and you made my soul
feel beautiful.
You made me feel as
though nothing in
the world could take me down...
A ball of confidence I was...
But most importantly...
I felt happy.
Why would you...
want me to feel any other way?
You said you loved me.
And I guess,
the hardest thing
to come to
terms with is...
it meant nothing to you.
It was just a passage of time,
a short distance.
But, I did learn something.
I will never again
fall in love
until I'm ready to fall out of love.
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 5:54 PM UTC