"pitters" poems
Laying in bed on my back.
My head resting on hands, cushioned.
The dark ceiling with a black asterisk in the middle.
My windows casting shadows of light across my room.
The rain outside silencing me with
shhhhhh
continuous
shhhhhhhhhhhh.
Listening closely I hear the lone pitters and single patters.
The nearly not noticeable rustling of branches.
Tempo of the rain quickening, slowing, quickening-
almost like a heartbeat.
A drip drip of droplets delving into a puddle.
The rushing of a shy, shallow, stream;
Its rare gurgles.
The ominous bass of thunder, deafening.
Natures own orchestra-
For me to fall asleep to.
May 1, 2011
May 1, 2011 at 5:55 PM UTC
The weight of life is reduced to a cloud
As raindrops of lysergic acid run free.
Their pitters and patters equally loud
As all of the colours that melt around me.
The womb of the universe beating its drum
And setting a pace for the flowers to bloom.
A force with such strength that all nature succumbs
As peacefulness floats in kaleidoscope flumes.
Empathy blossoms, arousing a smile,
That creeps from my lips to the end of the room,
Searing itself on a cosmic denial
That beauty like this shouldn’t gestate from gloom.
Floating, not unlike a dandelions seed,
Thoughts of anxiety flee to the Earth.
They carry but vapidness with the sweet breeze.
In nebulous nebulas they are dispersed.
Now what remains as a warm neon cloud
Is beauty profound and purpose pristine.
Unwanted, the ego is left disavowed
Dancing in memories of amphetamines.
Left in its place was the beauty and I.
Climbing like vines as it forces the walls.
Pushing them down with an ******** sigh,
Revealing a cosmos that rhythmically calls:
‘Freedom is such a deplorable word.
It offers ambitions too fruitful to take.
Though comfort or not,
As with fictitious plot,
It’s only as real as it’s fake.’
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 4:02 PM UTC
My maker named me Universe and now I make you read this verse.
Subtle transfers will be missed.
The train has already left the station; it left you and me behind as well.
You will never be able to believe that your opinion has also been left behind and will be left behind again, but it’s true, and always was.
At the time, you are busy yelling “help” in a crowded theater.
Three individuals are injured in the rush to your aid.
That’s will be on you, not me.
Let’s not cut hairs here; maybe you should have yelled “fire” instead.
Then, at least, you’d know in advance you were buying the bath water and could throw it wherever you **** well wanted to.
Baby or no baby, a duck is a duck.
Truth is what you want, capitalized beneath this thin distraction which pitters off...
At first you denied it, but then again you are always ignorant of its honest weight at first.
Patience lent perspective to our narrow mind, allowing it to, eventually, glimpse us, narrowly, just out of sight of one another.
Humility, begging pardon, but who needs such company? Me?
I will just keep my head down, and quietly push whatever buttons I can.
These, for instance, are both mine and yours.
One can share, but we've never needed to.
There is no reason, either.
Never try to believe a fallacy; that would be insanity.
Quietly, like thieves, stealing the point, we'll slip into our ritual
I've been here before.
This is the beginning.
You’ll likely end up here again as well.
What is happening has always felt like déjà vu.
While you’ve been talking about yourself I’ve lost my train of thought.
I assume I will never find it.
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 2:18 AM UTC
Sometimes it seems to me that your ultimate goal is to see me broken.
You sit in your chair and twiddle my hearts strings between your fingers.
You strum my chords until the melody becomes too similar to your own.
Then you knot each of my hearts strings up individually,
Leaving me strung.
Only so you can start all over.
You learn me just to forget me.
Lead me just to leave me.
I'm a game that you love to play.
But only when you haven't smiled a genuine smile for a while.
I make you happy and nervous at the same time.
Cause everyone knows that a sweet hello births the most bitter goodbye.
So when it feels too real, it's too easy for you to run.
In the meantime you just walk the line.
You reside on the equator of my past and future.
And my resistance only assists your thrive.
You are the factor which brings life to my smile.
You are the crease in between my cheek and the corner of my mouth.
Every breathe I take while with you amplifies my high.
I hate you, but I love how you make me feel.
But only sometimes.
You are a wound that will never heal completely.
Marking me imperfectly beautiful. You are my creative collaborator.
Forever infected by your loves venom.
Therefore I bleed thee.
But, we don't relate anymore.
Our pitters don't patter on beat anymore.
Our paths don't meet anymore.
It seems like your hearts not even in reach anymore.
I figure to leave is the only way to settle the score.
But you've packed my bags and you opended the door.
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 6:21 AM UTC
There's this voice in the back of my head whispering little thoughts,
every day spilling words into the vortex to cause a chain reaction
of action each day that I step foot on this earth. Some days I shake
and shiver, wonderin' if it's the cause I want. Some days I take and
take a single breath one after the other. And whether or not I'm ready
to take the leap, that little voice keeps on and on, steady thunderin'
in my brain as I snap both my legs together as the ledge reaches out
and that voice straps my thoughts right to the purpose that I belong.
And still each day I wake and I wonder, am I becoming what I want.
And each day I ponder and I shake because I just cannot be sure.
Yet, there's a little bit of a voice entirely committed to the choice
that I settle with both feet upon. And although I'm never certain,
and my heart, filled with its nervous palpitations, pitters and pats as
I sit and stare past the curtain, eyeing the world with its thisses and thats
that I'm not even sure I want to obtain, but still so effectively contains,
I realize a couple things. I may not know my direction, but I'm not lost.
I may be filled with one too many faults that are in need of a correction,
but I'm not broken. So, each day a voice whispers in the back of my head,
and each day I whisper a little bit back and even though I'm a bit scared
of the mystery of life, an epiphany brings me back: I may not know my place,
but that voice keeps supportin' my claim and my head keeps saying the same,
so I'll just go ahead and keep this motherfuckin' smile on my face.
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 2:05 AM UTC
The red balloon in my chest--
It swells and pounds
And pitters around town,
To it's very own delight.
It wanders, and whimpers
And hints at secrets
That linger, indecipherable,
Even to it's owners might.
It throbs and seethes
The poignant things-
That no one wishes to endure.
It dances and prances
To seldom advances
Avoiding emptying, evermore.
Yet I find myself with a red balloon,
Tucked neatly beneath my chest,
Once deflated by love lost,
Inflated, once more.
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 1:48 AM UTC
The wind speaks in warnings
Passed fast from leaf to leaf.
The rustle of the undergrow
Stirs firm in disbelief.
Pitters and patters scatter
The fallen pain.
The last acorn of the season
Falls,
A final act of treason.
A beacon among the coming rain.
Oct 26, 2016
Oct 26, 2016 at 7:41 PM UTC
In a dire little spire's shadow
A form pitters, admires a sad show
A girl of the world waits on the drab stone
Waits to unfurl the curl of her mad bones
Hurrying the boldness
To give those bones flight
Into the noblest
Last act of performance night
or exercise in masked spite
Irrelevant, an embellished fate
She crouches, contemplates
The height, the likely injurious spate
The form flounces around the wait
This **** of this morning
Almost hawk of forlorn dawning
Sures it's tastes, titillates
Red shine in the eye reflects
Mind's highs and shy delections
Foreseeing shards of residual head spread
Over acutely angled limbs
and digits subtracted and mangled
To no surprise she rises
It sizes up the prize that provided
An answer to lies so hideously divided
And a thirst for the worst that insidious lives wish
Saviour of absent behaviour
No try, no cry, no mind for saving her
A foot left the paving, the body flailing
Regaining
On gravity and the audacity
Of life's magnanimous, massive, flaccid needs
A sound of pained muddle hounds the cease
Years regain in puddles on the dusty concrete
A prayer said alone from a just, husky tree
***** and undetected
The monster's expected scorn ejected
He moves now towards the poor unsuspecting's rejected
Silhouette of chance and dances dankly in his delected
Tragedy of red majesty and death's rich tapestry perfected
May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 3:30 PM UTC
the gold peaks about on the shoulders of the mountain top
as the lies we let sink in hit hard like a rock
the echo of words fill my brain
sinking in like stormy night of endless rain
repeated in pitters and splattered in patters
did you honestly think your excuses would matter?
you swallow for a gulp of air that you dont deserve
to inhabit your body, to keep you reserved
the snear of hatred skims your lips
then i tell you im done with this
im done with you and your presence
your sick denial and childness
i’ll walk out of your life
and push you out of mine
because frankly
you were never worth my time
Dec 24, 2011
Dec 24, 2011 at 2:01 PM UTC
Its a dark night Prince Charming
It hits me like a bullet to the chest
Every time I think of you
My heart pitters and patters and
I can’t seem to find rest
Every breath I breathe shortens and quickens
The air around me fills with static and electricity
Every time you step into the same room as I
My eyes are glued
I cant move
Every step closer to you
Sends my heart pounding
My head spinning
I lose all sense of logic
My nerves tingle at the lightest touch
Your hand pulls mine
And I am in your arms
The music fills the room
People close in around us
But all I can see
Is you and I
Reality fades and the dream envelops me
Dancing away with you
Time stands still
Until at last
It has come time to go home
For my carriage has turned into a pumpkin
And a princess I am no more
Until the next eve shall I see you
My prince charming
Will you wait for me
Dec 17, 2012
Dec 17, 2012 at 1:57 AM UTC
Day closes to an open window–
A sill, a still rest for my spent legs;
Torqued over to face the breeze, welcome chills
Swing the brush with each croak of my knees.
Laughs crane over amber roof clay–
And somewhere behind a white fence
It’s someone’s birthday, a dog brays, coos rouse a baby
Who cries off-key with the family’s song
A dark cluster shifts in the sky,
And the moon emerges from nil.
I’d forgotten my eyes but to see like this…
So long since the night kept me filled…
Spark lights strung in beads on a rope
-Chatoyant, chatoyant comme diamants–
“Brille et brille petit étoile” string the notes
of a mother’s rock-a-bye song
My squeak of a refrain pitters into the air
-Cassant, cassant comme verre-
No love from eclipses we sing to,
No peace from mullings in prayer
Then a fairy book glow sweeps this vision–
Its air thick and sweet to the tongue–
My glance caught by shimmering scales on the back
Of this Ville like a dragon in slumber
—oh, to dance on that spine
—to leap from his eaves into air!
—to fly with these legs where I don’t have to sleep
—and days don’t sit brittle and spare
But fingers to the pulse in my cheek—
To a cauldron of wicked alchemy—
Trace an infection spreading like dragons’ wings
Where beasts may be best left sleeping.
Painfully pretty, the light grows ever fainter,
I should drink it in while I can still see—
There’s a reason art’s left to the painter,
And my brush colors sorrow on everything.
But I’m not sorry now, nor sad, though my eyes water
And wobble the world ’til I blink;
With my back towards the concrete, grounded, this altar
Casts a reverence over everything.
Dec 2, 2017
Dec 2, 2017 at 3:40 PM UTC
Bang! the smoke trails off of your fingers...
The smell of skin and blood, I find, tends to linger.
I can still taste it dancing in the air, intoxicatingly sweet
And just like you, utterly nauseating.
You smiled at me from 100 feet above...
The shape of your teeth morphing into needles,
And with morphine qualities, I inject them into me
Alongside every memory.
Satisfied with your **** you pulled out your dagger...
Your weight haunts me,
Clinging to my body like a frightened babe,
A desperate lover, an infectious parasite.
You carved deep into my chest, claiming your trophy...
I don't miss it.
The erratic pangs of guilt and hope and hurt, worst of all
That ******* love, who'd always shove rejection in my face.
My heart beat in the comfort of your palm as I felt crimson rain...
Death pitters and patters, tapping bony fingers across my skull
Thoughts he has encumbered in my head leave life null,
His scythe slices, dull.
You smiled at me from 100 feet above, the sun blinding...
I'm your dog.
Shove my nose in **** scratch my back. Leash me to the past,
I know all of the tricks- spin and sniff, follow the tracks.
Bang!
-SLuR
Jan 30, 2018
Jan 30, 2018 at 10:15 PM UTC
To reach out at dusk,
across the near-night sky
where all is turned to dust,
past the galaxies,
and completely around a
cylindrical infinity,
to discover:
that she is nowhere to be found,
not a single sweet breadth of her existence,
none,
not even a sound.
So the rain falls with soft
tss tss and patter pitters,
and is oft what withers
away my desire to quell the hunt.
For the rain reminds me,
of the cycle, the infinity,
the growth of the 'morrows and
divinity.
No matter the cloud-cover,
the star-blocking puffs,
I see the suns, moons, planets,
the habitable and the rough,
to know,
That to reach across space and time,
with a few short words,
and a few short rhymes,
is not the way to a soul
as pure as hers,
but in the way the
lone bird cries out in the night
as the rain falls upon its nest,
it is all I know to do.
To fly out among the drops
as would a butterfly
and to be returned to the Earth
as the water explodes on my
so delicate wings,
and the darkness traps
my mind.
And in the dirt
of such loving Earth,
I search.
To reach across every entwined root,
and to extend to every network of the fungi,
which so dutifully disposes of me,
and to strain and grasp
toward the center that burns
as hot as the scars within
my lifeless body,
to discover the gems of millinea
and the gold of centuries,
but not the treasure
which I so desperately seek,
even in my destruction,
not her.
And to reach across these words and thoughts,
as they bloom like the Spring trees,
and as the grow like turkey's tail,
as vibrant and recognizable,
to dissect them with razors
and hang them with rope across
the headboard of our lives.
We search for the meaning of our demons,
and our demons search for each other
in our words, in our motions,
to tear each other apart
for their emotions.
Until we scream red
to make it stop,
to erase the dead,
to bury the pain of our
childhood battles.
And I search within myself,
as the cold seeps in, and the wet
turns to an ice only for me,
and the lonesome star peers through the clouds,
as if to keep company with its
solitary light.
I sift through the darkness and
mushroom driven decay that smothers
the soil of my being, my center,
my soul, and my heart,
for her.
I cast aside the dejected and deplorable
self
to reach into the nucleus where all is
pure,
to find her,
to find you,
the only place where you belong --
within.
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 10:29 PM UTC
Silent pitters
With patters yet to come
The rain drips of the leaves
Slowly one by one
I see life really clearly
When I cannot see the sun
The moon feels like its watching me
Its spotlight illuminates my skin
I love this type of night
The comforting rain
And the friendly moon
I hope that in our dreams tonight
We can make love inside my room
Jan 19, 2021
Jan 19, 2021 at 7:50 AM UTC
Hello sunshine. The sky today is bright and blue, but there's a cloud coming across from the right side of my window. Hello cloud. Are you going to rain today? But listen, here comes the wind. Hello wind. Can you soften, and leave the cloud above me? Thank you. Hello rain. It pitters and patters as I drift off to sleep. Closing my eyes to the lullaby of nature. But wait! Here comes the sun. Hello morning! It's time for another day.
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 8:18 PM UTC
I just want to sleep a peaceful slumber
As the rain pitters against my window pane
My bed warm and the lights off
My brain wandering into pleasant dreams
Where flowing fields and whistling birds fly
My friends sitting at a table with pots of never-ending tea
Sweet scones and berry muffins sitting just so
We talk nothings as we drink and laugh
The sun setting next to us filling the skies
Purples, reds, and pinks flowing like water
An eternal party for temporary bliss
Dec 6, 2020
Dec 6, 2020 at 3:22 AM UTC
it is the rain
it pitters solemnly
it never fades
it is the rain,
but you are the sun,
and the sun breaks way.
Reflection of the sun in puddles of mud.
there is beauty.
Dec 28, 2019
Dec 28, 2019 at 9:02 PM UTC