"pique" poems
*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
---
A zombie and a troll
Squared off one fateful night
All the ghouls and goblins watched
Expecting quite a fight!
But much to their surprise
The troll was quick dispatched!
He was dumb, and so outdone
He had met his match!
He WAS good at deception
But now the zombie reigns!
Altho he's in a fit of pique
The dead troll had no BRAINS!
SøułSurvivør aka
Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc
Catherine Jarvis
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 8:50 PM UTC
Take me to Vienna where the music walks.
Where the buildings invite you to sit,
And accompany them for a cup of melange.
Where the many palace gardens have jovial pique-niques,
With their bikes resting by the trees.
Take me to Vienna where life ebbs out
Where the past lives on,
And composers wave out the windows.
Take me to Klimt's golden city,
The city where even the grey Donau is welcoming.
Take me to Vienna and don't take me back.
Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 3:05 AM UTC
In a fit of pique truths were written.
In a moment of reflection all was deleted.
Platitudes were written back instead.
Who am I to speak of the dead?
A wife was ungrateful with truth.
Did a pen pal want
what the sacred vows of marriage
Make unacceptable realities?
For whom would I have written? Who would it have pleased?
Staring at a fresh e-mail in humbled wonderment
that someone would give decent pretense to care
I -safely back from war- now ask: what do you want to know?
Do you really want to know?
Is it my place to tell
of seeing a man's insides
on the outside
of a vehicle who's occupants he unwittingly saved
by stepping on the landmine instead?
The mine splattered the survivors' vehicle in red.
Is it my place to tell
Of listening to the medic's confession?
Hearing him speak of tasting the blood in the air
like pennies on his tongue.
There's a tale I haven't heard sung!
I met my Shadow
I embraced him so deeply that I
As I had existed before
Ceased to be.
The naive child thinking it was Light
The Predatory Survivor others (cowards!) may judge as Dark
Were forged together
Stronger perhaps
Time will tell
As the alloy of two selves is unified by a personal hell
Cheering at outgoing steel rain
Laughing after the whizzing of bullets is a memory
Running, racing to donate more blood
Mourning the fallen while bathed in the dim red glow of chem lights
Watching honored corpses loaded in near darkness for their last helicopter flights
Is this what you wanted to hear?
Perhaps you knew.
Perhaps you imagined you knew.
Regardless
For your consideration
Thank you
For your innocent
Well-intentioned
Beautifully petty
Gloriously naive
And honest letters
Thank you.
Truly
Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 6:18 PM UTC
there's a lone seal swimming by the sea
hunting for silvers with heartless glee
a fish shy there, another one wiggling there
who really cares
for his table always set for one
darkness his day in the sun
still he takes to the rolling tides
lone, but ******* in his pride
one day his eyes pique a double look
as a mermaid pops out of his storybook
stunning as a little light filters in
as she swooshes by, waving her fins
she's a sparkled beauty from head to toe
her consonance and shine, lighting his mojo
growing hunger and his drive keep following her
on the ocean floor she shimmers
between the rocks she dances
one step she be in harmony to his glances
he drives a barked out calling
so raw and appalling
shivers crawling down her back
as he arf, arf's another attack
alarmed with his lack of renaissance
like she should be, she didn't offer a response
as she keeps shimmering past the rocks
racing, racing away from any further talk
broken, he retreats to his mind
the missing piece he'll never find
there's a lone mermaid swimming by the sea
and a lone seal barking of what could be
Logan Robertson
11/13/2017
Nov 13, 2017
Nov 13, 2017 at 7:13 PM UTC
Lushly lustful exotically ******
Vibrant virile fertile vicissitude
Puissant terminus loquacity photic
Pique piquant poignant pulchritude
Lecherous visceral longevous cohort
Wanton licentious erogenous frolic
Lurid lascivious ****** cavort
***** lewd apomixes anabolic
Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 5:54 AM UTC
#
This depressive choreography
of flames
f i k r n
l c e i g
consumed in the geography
of bodies
b i c k e r i n g
Tongue's embers licking
the innocent cheek
words like poniards
P R I C K I N G
leaving this dance at its
pique
Now left a s m o u l d e r i n g
soloist on the stage
a dance so sobering
watch this fire's rampage
burn his own pyre
I gave into the rage
burn his own desire
another illegible page
tossed to fuel the bellowing fire
the end of our golden age
#
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 10:52 AM UTC
You are the
liquid sugar
I rub into
my skin
soaked
through to my
pores so
deep within
on a cellular
level as I
gulp it down
swish in saliva
in liquid love
sounds
washed through
my system
in textured
spin
you balance
out the thickness
of my insulin
you
pique
hot
energies
into blush-fused
crush
swirling
endorphins
and hormones
in maelstrom rush
my cheeks
on fire,
ripe fruits
drip
juice
I must
breathe
in staccato
to control
this
sluice
But when I
get peak-high
and then
slope
so
low
you harmonize
the taut,
slick pull
of my
undertow flow
It's just a matter
of a few
words, syll-a-
bles spoken
velvet-voiced
cool
smooths
the rough
of my
broken
So please
inject it,
fresh
into the river
of my blood
Bring it over,
hot sugar,
before I
surge
into
flood
Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 2:42 PM UTC
For 18 years of my life,
I've never dedicated Valentine's Day
to the true love(s) of my life.
I've wasted years
attempting to make artificial temporary women
special
...only to be left stranded weeks later.
This new epiphany
forces me to dedicate today to the women
who've stuck by my side for all my life,
not once wanting or attempting to detach themselves.
To my Mom,
you gave me life
and you continue giving me life.
You're far from openly emotional
but there has been a myriad of times
where I've derived some sort of buoyancy
within you,
forcing your heart to double its beats.
There have been times where
...I've witnessed you at your worst,
tears streaming down your face
as you comfort me when it's you who truly needed the comfort.
You're a strong beautiful woman
and you are my Valentine,
I love you and wouldn't trade you for anything.
To my Aunt,
sometimes I fail to see how you're human.
You're more like a radiant sun that never sets.
If I need someone for absolutely anything,
I know it's you to run to first.
You go out of your way to ensure
my success and positive energies remain at their pique.
There isn't a thing you don't know about me
but no matter how extreme,
the love you emit towards and for me never seems to change.
Our relationship goes beyond,
aunt and nephew.
We're more like best-friends
and you are my Valentine.
I love you and wouldn't trade you for anything.
I've been through so many futile relationships
and these two are my only lasting ones,
seemingly sempiternal.
No matter how many women enter my life,
my aunt and mom will remain the top women in my life.
Happy Valentines Day.
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 9:48 AM UTC
Prepare to be entranced
by symphonic sounds
acuity and beauty
displays of pique
explosions of profanity
evocative waves
of love and adulation
restrained tones
profound as shadows
crossing a motionless road.
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 2:53 AM UTC
Indolence always gets the best of me
I feel like a jab
painting images without metaphors,
avoiding the intense visions of the lot
Indifferent, inebriated.
All demons slayed. Spread eagle.
Life seems to be a hassle,
in two ways on the same street
I am the attention *****
who wants to be left alone
Pushing them back only draws them closer
Today is no different,
a muse, a good laugh, a realization
my schedule is full again.
I just want to spend my time
anything else lacks luster
Goal: (noun)
1. aim, 2. end, 3. target, 4. purpose,
5. intention, 6. objective, 7. ambition,
I have none.
You can't force me, try as you may.
What does pique my interest is art
If I ever get over self indulgence,
which I will market emphatically,
I may consider starting a career
Controversies are fun, so is ******
to balance them both in one hand
and collect with the other
that is art.
Form, the world has never seen.
Abstract ambiguity rewriting itself.
Displeasing parents and loved ones around.
The one the perverts idolize
the critics would bow in awe to
Ah yes...
I feel so lazy.
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 4:55 AM UTC
Isn't it a pity that,
what she and I have
might be a
foretold; untold tale?
This writhing soul might be a fool to be
- t a n t a l i z e d -
by her honey-like scent,
with the topical rose redolence;
percolating every existing room for air
in my thickly tar-scarred lungs
from every hush of her troubled breath---
only then to realise that
every passing seconds spent
have always been a constellation of
== inane innuendo ==
to pique the lovelorn in me.
Dec 5, 2020
Dec 5, 2020 at 8:16 PM UTC
I want to be better
Not mad or in anger.
Not giving pique to
Fellow strangers. Not
Giving self the world's
Own pleasures. Not being
Selfish in others letters.
Not being abundant in
Thoughts of me. Thinking
Not on tommorrow
But eternity.
God help me
Be the me
You created me
To be. I'm a
Human who
Has flaws
Mistakes
Have felt
Distrust
Done the
Heartbrakes.
I am ashamed
Of my past
Though want
To move ahead to the
Future and present.
I'm just a transgressor
Trying to overcome the
Darkened essence.
I am not a saint
I'm humbly a peasant.
Meaning poor in my actions.
But those shall change
No longer do I want
To be estranged from
Dios mío. I want to
Give him all
This is me
This is real.
Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 11:36 AM UTC
On the stage
under the lights
in front of the auditorium seats
a
Sneering, jeering, laughing
audience at
one on the stage
The spinning shimmering
hologram
of
all my fears
reluctance
guard rails
concrete barriers
perpetrators
and
victims too
rememberings
and
anticipation
stood
Connected to me
by
a long tether
And
along that tether
my
power flowed
away from me
Into the performing
Mannequin
on
that stage.
Who was the puppet master?
In a moment of freedom
or was it just pique
with my golden scissors
the
tether was
cut.
The shimmering stood
for a moment on stage
the crowd became silent
and
looked away.
In my moment
of release
I wished it well
compassion and peace
and
I was finally free.
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 9:03 AM UTC
Obtusely overt and contusionally obscene,
boy I feel like being mean.
Rip its face off, shove it up its nose,
be a raven in a flock of crows.
Be a bad *** savage brutal,
why I'll even throw in the kit and caboodle.
Feral phrenic frenzied ****
with immaculate mule kit blues aimed ****
One for all and all for one,
we're all moving to Fullerton.
Where the lecherous lothario lout,
is no longer libido liaison's tout.
Fecund cogent liberating exigence,
do you get it or are you dense?
Pique puissant piquant quintescence,
have you all learned your lessons?
Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 7:14 PM UTC
Sometimes, you need fresh air,
and beyond the curb of ignoring an annoying party-acquaintance,
you step outside to feel the briefly welcoming air;
you think you'd overcome the standing hairs of your neck,
but you don't and you stay.
Sometimes, you need fresh air.
Slowly, after that last awkward smirk from your blind-date,
you reach for your cigarettes and head outside into the rather stark breeze of night,
leaving coffee for smoke, intertwined with the thin ice, that is breath.
Sometimes, you need fresh air,
and it's cold, too cold to leave the room,
and it's dark, too dark outside,
but you leave anyway because whatever stands inside is a spoiled pique unrelentingly trying to get you.
Sometimes, you need fresh air.
Mar 22, 2012
Mar 22, 2012 at 10:18 PM UTC
I'll dance in the graceful moonlight
I'll sing with the mourning crows..
I'll walk with you at midnight
On routes we seldom go.
We'll walk away to Rome.
I'd love to go with you.
Anywhere is peaceful there
My eyes leak fresh morning dew.
I look into your eyes, waiting
For a response to me.
Hoping you'll smile back down
And use the pronoun 'we'
My heart swoons, creeping
Along at lazy pace
And finally speeding up again
When it's me whom you embrace.
After sitting next to you,
And staring at the stars,
Finding constellations,
And mapping adventures far,
My eyelids close then silently,
And in your arms I fall under.
Now sleeping peacefully,
My dreams pique wonders.
Dec 23, 2020
Dec 23, 2020 at 7:54 PM UTC
strange
isn’t it
how
memories
pique our moods like
mountains
bursting
through the
stratosphere
only to be sent
plummeting to the
depths of an
abyss
darker
and
deeper
than Marianas Trench
at the flip of a
switch
subtle triggers
found in the way
someone laughs
or when a co-worker
grins
out of the corner of
his or her
mouth
i see you
in the characters of the
literature and
films we used to critique
over coffee
hiding in the vestiges
of Daenerys Targaryen
or
Mélanie Laurent
you are France
an entire country
unto yourself
the smell of the sea
clings to your skin cells
in ways i
only wish
i could
you are in every
solitary
letter of Helvetica
whispering
softly
of things that
were
of things that
are
and of some things that
have not yet come to pass
you float
in the carcinogenic smoke
of cigarettes
a silhouette
corporeal particles
i exorcise
with equal parts
relief
and
regret
every night that i
paint the town
in neon colors
of vibrant life
i write your name
when i
vandalize
and fantasize
that you are
somehow with me
maybe floating happily
in the molecules
of aerosol
spreading across the
concrete
you’re in every song
by Brand New
like the residue of
dew drying on
the leaves
in the
mid-morning
light
lingering
even as
the sun calls you
home
the way i lingered
on your doorstep
to make sure that
you made it safely
back inside your
home
i’ve come to find that
i am equal parts
melancholy
and
blithe
and
i think that i
can finally say
i’m getting better
but
to borrow
a page
from Vonnegut
i’d be lying if
i said i didn’t still
catch
myself feeling
sorry
about the things that
no longer
matter
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 10:11 AM UTC
##
*Vitreous shinning of moon,
as springtime mothers pique
A train carried me from dark to light,
a rose bud bloomed -
I grasp roses and devotion songs together,
hands with my dreamed darling boon,
A dream decided real, never forgotten,
meaning of love as moonlit, learned from thy
Now onward -
Narrow uneven path,
Aye passionate pain stressed,
Thee roses faded and wither,
As a missing melancholy song -
On a full moon I bide on a boat for thy
Until ache twilight horizon -
Behind apart from time -
A mature pensive ripened,
An abstract passion craved for romance
Oh! It's beyond the wording,
Oh! My darling-
Oh! I forever behold thy
Oh! ** ! An untold love I feel!!
##
@Musfiq us shaleheen*
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 4:25 PM UTC
I swirl galaxies
In a fit of pique
Soothe exo planets
Locked in orbit
Blow gentle air
From hot face
To freezing rear
This I
Centre of centreless
Space
Dimple in the chin
Of directionless
Being
Entire universe
Mere metaphor
Of how This I
May feel
Right now.
This vaunted ambition
These vaulted palaces
Celebrants all of
This I that
This I calls
God as a two year old
Stamping mighty feet
This nothing at all
This whatever
This I
That is what it is
And loves only
This I
Nov 2, 2016
Nov 2, 2016 at 4:34 AM UTC
Blinded by illusion,
I am inundated by the Many.
To rise above delusion,
I seek a former clarity.
There’s fire in my being,
Also water, earth and air reside.
This quintessence I am now seeing,
No longer from me can it hide.
I found a light that shines within,
No different from the one without.
The sun above will breathe its life
While spirits below remove all doubt.
With senses five I sense the earth,
But delude me not, I know my worth.
My sense is one, I sense the All
On my demand. I beck and call.
I will not sit idle,
Nor wait for God to speak.
I will raise my inner voice,
And His interest I shall pique.
He does not want slaves
Bowing down on bended knees.
He awaits an equal,
And for this I hold the keys.
Nov 20, 2011
Nov 20, 2011 at 11:16 AM UTC
Obtusely overt and contusionally obscene,
boy I feel like being mean.
Rip its face off, shove it up its nose,
be a raven in a flock of crows.
Be a bad *** savage brutal,
why I'll even throw in the kit and caboodle.
Feral phrenic frenzied ****
with immaculate mule kit blues aimed ****
One for all and all for one,
we're all moving to Fullerton.
Where the lecherous lothario lout,
is no longer libido liaison's tout.
Fecund cogent liberating exigence,
do you get it or are you dense?
Pique puissant piquant quintescence,
have you all learned your lessons?
Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 8:49 PM UTC