"playmate" poems
a crocus opens and
closes with the stream of
midnight moon.
the playmate of exhaustion
crosses the room
in his heavy, black boots
to close the curtains.
goodbye, light.
goodbye, pride of lions
and boy transformed
into a werewolf.
a scratch
of larceny,
the cuddle of
maple leaves rotting,
the magnet spinning
in rocket-ship orbit.
all secrets held in
feathers,
in hair compounded
into strings of
black opal,
and limbs stenciling
comets around
five feet of woman.
nothing in the talk
can suffocate—a quick
and easy birth of
ecstasy and the emotional
sidestep into the dark
of slumber,
seemingly feminine but
dreams strong as
barbed wire.
when to sleep?
a question finger-written
on my chest.
Aug 6, 2017
Aug 6, 2017 at 11:18 AM UTC
Close your eyes
Your world, not extending
beyond the soft quilt under
your skin, unending
Soft ripples of cloth, and picturesque seams
Nothing here but
You, me, the sky, and soft dreams
I'll reach up and take the stars from the sky
If only to lay them at your feet
to place them in your hands
to bring light into those glazed eyes
or give a glow to a world so bland
and each one would be folded
into a beautiful origami castle
I, the lord, and you, the vassal
Or perhaps me as the king
and you as a queen, whichever
My gentle playmate.. which one is better?
I'm a majestic creature of the sky
You're an empty-faced child on a quilt
Each star shall be used as a stepping stone
so I might meet you in the place I built
Let us meet, as lovers, or
at least equals
on this starry floor
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 9:33 AM UTC
pony-tailed playmate
head tucked in her shirt
gazing steadily down
at her toes in the dirt
chaos tiptoes around her
naive oblivion
journeys in far away lands
just west of the meridian
watercolor fairy tales
bleeding outside the lines
unaware of the danger
unaware of the signs
let me sit with you, darling
in the dampened flower beds
and paint a new world
for us in our heads
Dec 24, 2018
Dec 24, 2018 at 11:25 PM UTC
Venti, I admire,
I wish I was like you who soars through the sky.
Free like the bird you are,
Unburdened by worries,
just like stars dancing at night.
venti sits.
Up in his statue,
He admires the city,
that he built.
Venti, my sweet,
How lovely is it for us to meet,
Your green hair, your glowing locks,
Please comfort my soul, so my heart will be unlocked.
Your voice, your longing stare,
I love that you're always waiting there.
Your dreams, your goals,
I love that you'd rather be free,
like the god of wind! You fly happily.
Venti, my sweet,
stop drinking wine,
you're higher than a grape vine.
Venti, my sweet,
You prevent me from getting enough sleep.
my thoughts wander,
to your fantasy world I wish to discover.
Your calming presence speaks,
volumes of comfort,
You never fail to bring me relief.
May you sleep well.
I'll be back for tomorrow before you say farewell.
I love your antics, I love your voice.
I love that you play with me, I love that you bring me joy.
Venti, my sweet,
Come have a picnic with me!
At Windrise, for an afternoon tea.
There's cake, there's biscuits,
a lovely day, for you and me.
A picnic, with me!
I'm sorry, I didn't get you alcohol,
I worry about your alcohol capacity.
It rains.
You once asked me to come out and play,
over puddles, in patches of green grass, mist and hay,
What a lovely way to spend the day.
venti,
your beauty is like no other,
as pretty as the stars under glistening skies, its no wonder.
I fell for your grace, I fell for your personality,
how your smile brightens up my day entirely.
slander your name, they do,
but I shall savor my time spent with you.
right or wrong, they dictate,
but I shall pay them no mind, as always, my playmate.
you live in my mind,
however you like.
as long as you're happy,
I feel peace, basking in the moonlight.
Dec 15, 2020
Dec 15, 2020 at 2:07 AM UTC
*Hello!
Wanna play Pretend?
I'll be the hero,
And you'll be the villain.
My old playmate,
She really didn't known how to play,
So she had to go,
And now you here.
So lets start the game,
You've got ten seconds to hide,
I'll give you a head start,
Ready, set, go!*
Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 2:30 PM UTC
He was never my classmate,
Neither was he my schoolmate,
As we have met on OkCupid,
Which is where we got suited.
He soon became my tablemate,
Then got promoted to bedmate,
Ranging from late-night nosh
To some naughty oh-my-gosh.
He was my almost-roommate,
Now, a hopeful housemate,
Since he would visit me daily
And keep me company gaily.
He was frequently my seatmate,
As well as invaluable playmate,
For we traveled places together
And cloyingly wrestled each other.
He has always been my helpmate,
And is presently my best teammate,
As he has cheered me up from afar,
As we chat as if there is no au revoir.
He will one day become my inmate,
Plus my hard-working workmate,
Since we will both have mini-me’s
Forcing us to slog away on our knees.
He is undoubtedly my soulmate,
One who is to become my lifemate,
For he is a romantic yet **** geek,
A keeper with charms all too unique.
Jun 20, 2016
Jun 20, 2016 at 10:00 AM UTC
I dreamed that, as I wandered by the way,
Bare Winter suddenly was changed to Spring,
And gentle odours led my steps astray,
Mixed with a sound of waters murmuring
Along a shelving bank of turf, which lay
Under a copse, and hardly dared to fling
Its green arms round the ***** of the stream,
But kissed it and then fled, as thou mightest in dream.
There grew pied wind-flowers and violets,
Daisies, those pearled Arcturi of the earth,
The constellated flower that never sets;
Faint oxlips; tender bluebells, at whose birth
The sod scarce heaved; and that tall flower that wets—
Like a child, half in tenderness and mirth—
Its mother’s face with Heaven’s collected tears,
When the low wind, its playmate’s voice, it hears.
And in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine,
Green cowbind and the moonlight-coloured may,
And cherry-blossoms, and white cups, whose wine
Was the bright dew, yet drained not by the day;
And wild roses, and ivy serpentine,
With its dark buds and leaves, wandering astray;
And flowers azure, black, and streaked with gold,
Fairer than any wakened eyes behold.
And nearer to the river’s trembling edge
There grew broad flag-flowers, purple pranked with white,
And starry river buds among the sedge,
And floating water-lilies, broad and bright,
Which lit the oak that overhung the hedge
With moonlight beams of their own watery light;
And bulrushes, and reeds of such deep green
As soothed the dazzled eye with sober sheen.
Methought that of these visionary flowers
I made a nosegay, bound in such a way
That the same hues, which in their natural bowers
Were mingled or opposed, the like array
Kept these imprisoned children of the Hours
Within my hand,—and then, elate and gay,
I hastened to the spot whence I had come,
That I might there present it!—Oh! to whom?
3.3k
This little fairy always thought that she was important
In a way that it would not to me or even you.
She thought "I bet they thought I had a respsonsible face"
as I stood in the "Name the Fairy Day Today" queue.
That day she waited all day, (she was last out of bed)
She had arrived late (of course) and was last in line.
The others had been named, (they were all proud)
and this last name they had. well it was absolutely fine.
The others giggled behind her back (she didn't know that)
and was ridiculed whereever they went that very day.
The Fairy of the Rose and Forget-Me-Not were supportive
and not spiteful like the rest in a caring sort of way.
These fairies knew the real reason for her name but kept quiet
They did not want to shatter this little fairy's dream
Besides which when it was time to meet their maker
These two fairies had the best golden tickets to redeem.
That is what you get if you are a good and kind little fairy
is a golden ticket to extra love and devotion and stuff
The last thing a fairy wants is a damp grey cloud to sit on
which has run out of nice things, fluffy things and puff.
It is not hard to be nice they thought, takes no extra effort
So they were that to this hopeless little fairy that's always late.
The fairy of everything sharp and dangerous a name in itself.
But then to her it came with instant love from a nice playmate.
A playmate or two in fact which was more than most got.
So in her head she thought that she was well liked and respected.
In truth I suspect the rest were jealous and envied her status
But this little fairy (despite her name) always felt protected.
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 10:21 PM UTC
Inspiration for true love, you always remain,
With your ineffable look and idyllic thoughts,
Your dulcet expressions are very iridescent,
When two lovers are kissing in garden.
Joyful love making in the dark deep forest,
You will never jilt our love, my heart sings,
My feelings jostle to get into your heart,
When rain drops are dancing with bubbles.
***** style you have with your frizzy hair,
Ebullient and effervescent flavor of your spirit,
Entice my lips to kiss you all over your body,
By the end of today, when the sun is setting.
Lullaby your heart croons sonorously for me,
You are light, love and life a lover always seeks,
My heart is fond of your rosy and lustful lips,
When rainbow is spreading its colorful emotions,
Mesmerize me by your marvelous appearance,
Your great reverence for love enrapture me,
And naughty actions of your lips stare at me,
When hailstorms are falling on the poor lovers.
Nurturing the love seeds, you sowed yesterday,
You shower your warmness on those seeds,
Are eager to dance with their kind partner,
When love season is reaching its adolescence.
One and only partner, this is you only darling,
Whom I so deeply and outrageously love,
And my baby heart always beats for you,
When snowy mountains stretch in **********
Passionate and pretty playmate you are,
The Most romantic words I can say to you,
My pride, joy and precious partner for ever,
And peep from the swarm of smitten blue sky.
Sep 6, 2016
Sep 6, 2016 at 8:11 AM UTC
Buddies since birth.
Supposed to be the star of the north.
My playmate, my entertainer, my protector.
Like a human lie detector.
The same one face.
The other hard to trace.
Your evil on the rise.
Visible through your nasty eyes.
Your hands all over me.
Push and pull me in like a sea.
Cutting deep into my soul.
Gave me another set of secrets to hold.
All that you should have been was an illusion.
I regret calling you my cousin.
Jul 20, 2020
Jul 20, 2020 at 2:21 AM UTC
I
The shepherds went their hasty way,
And found the lowly stable-shed
Where the Virgin-Mother lay:
And now they checked their eager tread,
For to the Babe, that at her ***** clung,
A Mother’s song the Virgin-Mother sung.
II
They told her how a glorious light,
Streaming from a heavenly throng.
Around them shone, suspending night!
While sweeter than a mother’s song,
Blest Angels heralded the Savior’s birth,
Glory to God on high! and Peace on Earth.
III
She listened to the tale divine,
And closer still the Babe she pressed:
And while she cried, the Babe is mine!
The milk rushed faster to her breast:
Joy rose within her, like a summer’s morn;
Peace, Peace on Earth! the Prince of Peace is born.
IV
Thou Mother of the Prince of Peace,
Poor, simple, and of low estate!
That strife should vanish, battle cease,
O why should this thy soul elate?
Sweet Music’s loudest note, the Poet’s story,
Didst thou ne’er love to hear of fame and glory?
V
And is not War a youthful king,
A stately Hero clad in mail?
Beneath his footsteps laurels spring;
Him Earth’s majestic monarchs hail
Their friends, their playmate! and his bold bright eye
Compels the maiden’s love-confessing sigh.
VI
Tell this in some more courtly scene,
To maids and youths in robes of state!
I am a woman poor and mean,
And wherefore is my soul elate.
War is a ruffian, all with guilt defiled,
That from the aged father’s tears his child!
VII
A murderous fiend, by fiends adored,
He kills the sire and starves the son;
The husband kills, and from her board
Steals all his widow’s toil had won;
Plunders God’s world of beauty; rends away
All safety from the night, all comfort from the day.
VIII
Then wisely is my soul elate,
That strife should vanish, battle cease:
I’m poor and of low estate,
The Mother of the Prince of Peace.
Joy rises in me, like a summer’s morn:
Peace, Peace on Earth! The Prince of Peace is born!
2.7k
Filling and fading with a soft caress
My playmate by the deep
Our memories diminish into effervesce
Held upon the sands of time
They keep
We bind and softly lay them all along
Like small sparks of fire
Yet out of the mist they are burning strong
As our soul’s
Deepest desires
The dusk of evening, breaks into light
Filling with a soft caress
Memories are found through clouds of night
In the surging foam
Of effervesce
Those sands of time will unbind the fires
My playmate by the deep
Found in our soul’s deepest desires
The smallest spark
Will keep
Oct 13, 2010
Oct 13, 2010 at 10:39 PM UTC
As I was searching for truth, I realize that nothing is true.
And so it leaves me only pain, I could escape but what is the use?
It is all temporary.
Well, what could one expect out of an illusionary world.
So I cease my search and shed my feathers, lay down still.
Till time itself runs out.
Till the stalking man comes and he takes me to its darkness.
The stalking man was my shadow, my playmate, my truth
He invites, lures me but what is it that pulls me from behind,
It is frightening how an illusion can have control.
But my playmate calls, pleads and lures again
And again.
Pulls back the illusion
Am I to be stuck in this tug-of-war?
To be pulled till I lose my sanity.
The illusion spoke; it is all a part of the game it whispered.
In a voice so surreal
That I walked back inside the illusion.
Lost my playmate,
My shadow,
My truth,
The stalking man.
Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 4:07 AM UTC
I'm going on a date
with a man I met online.
We've agreed to short term,
ending with some ***
Promises of milestones,
talking of consent,
with one purpose: virginity to lose.
The timing we will choose
to do the big event.
We will work out the hormones
and in the very end, be another ex.
This truth we both hold firm.
We hope the last night will be divine
as we end up being just a playmate.
Jan 5, 2016
Jan 5, 2016 at 9:29 PM UTC
little Timmy tadpole he lived in a pool
underneath the rocks where it kept him cool
swimming round round in amongst the ****
chewing as he went this was his favorite feed
Timmy he was growing and he began change
he grew arms and legs he looked rather strange
his body changing shape it was going round
now he was a frog and he could jump around
one day in the pond on a lily pad
sat another frog this made Timmy glad
now he had a playmate and they began to play
having lots of fun and passing time away
swimming round the pool jumping on to land
hopping round together playing in the sand
then they both got tired hopped for a sleep
back to there favorite lilly pads in the pool so deep
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 11:24 AM UTC
607
Of nearness to her sundered Things
The Soul has special times—
When Dimness—looks the Oddity—
Distinctness—easy—seems—
The Shapes we buried, dwell about,
Familiar, in the Rooms—
Untarnished by the Sepulchre,
The Mouldering Playmate comes—
In just the Jacket that he wore—
Long buttoned in the Mold
Since we—old mornings, Children—played—
Divided—by a world—
The Grave yields back her Robberies—
The Years, our pilfered Things—
Bright Knots of Apparitions
Salute us, with their wings—
As we—it were—that perished—
Themself—had just remained till we rejoin them—
And ’twas they, and not ourself
That mourned.
2.1k
A young girl with shoulder-length brown hair and new white shoes galloped across a newly stained bridge with black polished railing
With no cracks, no moss, no holes, no graffiti and led her to her new old school for the very first day.
The creek beneath her, filled with ducks, algae, the occasional nutria, clear, murky water, and branches, weeds, and grass hanging out over the creek, flirting with it,
And the creek flowed while the girl playfully followed.
The wide grassy hill, abandoned by trees and bushes alike, hid a narrow trough, which entertained the young girl on her journey to the school and came up to her knees and
Sharpened her balance while trying not to fall over.
And her friend, with faded blond hair, with blue, blue eyes, with a soft nose, with faint eye brows, and about 4’9’’, trailed behind her, trying to match her every step.
And he was her close neighbor
And at school—her classmate
And then they came home and he was her playmate and best friend.
And once they were home, her mother made them peanut butter and jelly sandwiches,
no crust.
Her mother, at home, then school, then teaching
and her motherly tone reassuring the girl that she could do anything she sets her mind to while reminding the girl to do her homework.
Her father, working with cars, then not with cars, then with cars again, who was good with his hands, but maybe not his memory,
Who the girl is alike more than she may think.
The white shoes grew into a white Jeep Cherokee and took the girl to the new new school;
And the long, dark haired, one-eyed boy,
And the preppy, sparkly, life-size Barbie,
And the bulky young man with a fully-grown beard.
Within the vast hallways, the girl spotted her distant neighbor, her classmate, her playmate, her friend With dark blond hair, with blue, blue eyes, with a hard nose, with whiskers on his chin and a stature of 6’8’’.
But only sometimes.
Driving down the long, grey pavement road, with no lines to part the road, the girl passes the bridge,
The bridge which had taken her to the old old school,
The bridge with faded black rails and both moss and graffiti growing on it,
The bridge she had once followed.
Apr 21, 2013
Apr 21, 2013 at 1:45 AM UTC
I've a sinking friendship,
Torpedoed by the ********
And listing.
The first mate mutinied.
Once a blood brother,
Like no other;
An intimate
At an imminent end,
An alter-ego
More than a friend.
I've been too patient,
Veered off course
With understanding.
I'm quite sure
This Pythias
Would run and leave me
Hanging.
I'm on a cliff
And won't hang on
To a blade of trust,
A fawning pawn.
He had my back,
I turn,
He's gone.
This partisan
Must part
A homeless homeboy,
A dissembling fraud.
No longer a mainstay,
He's insecure,
His equivocations
Make lines blur,
I don't believe
Him anymore.
He really needs a soul-mate,
Classmate, playmate,
But he's become a reprobate,
Lying prostrate,
Lying up straight.
I'll drown my Boswell
In my inkwell;
No longer
An advocate.
The laughs have left,
Yes,
I'm bereft,
But I'll catch the wind.
My course is true.
This friendship
Can't be salvaged.
It's scuttled,
And I won't
Sink with you.
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 11:42 AM UTC
Wait your turn to piping tune
*Suncreen, scrunchie, ***** pack*
Un-birthday song by Hatter, mad
Wrought iron, mushrooms, storybook
Take the fastest spinning cup
Play-dough, crayons, apple sauce
Bring your playmate. Tag, you're it
Purple, maelstrom, pizza dough
Spin the sun and time away
Mushrooms, sunscreen, apple sauce
Ninety seconds: laughter, puke
Manners, madness, misery
Night falls under sleeping tree
Paper lantern, lightning bug
Hand-in-hand, stumble home
Twilight, popcorn, cinnamon
You've been drunk in drunken tea
Swing the gate,
Hurry on
Mar 26, 2013
Mar 26, 2013 at 2:44 AM UTC
A young boy embraces life, fearless!
He knows NOT the pain that's coming.
He lives, for now, in his cocoon
protected
Years go by, protection is lifted.
The world seeps through the cracks
introducing fear and self-doubt.
His once free-spirit, wanes!
He waits for loving words,
They
rarely
come
What does come, often with intensity,
Are words and actions validating humanity's darkness.
Pressing into him, bringing crushing pain.
Stabbing his heart, his tender heart!
Slowly, without realizing,
he retreats from this world.
Loneliness becomes his
playmate
A cruel playmate for sure.
Now as a grown man,
He finds himself shy, tentative.
Lessons revealed and learned.
You pass him on the street,
None of his tenderness appears,
His heart tucked away,
protected!
He fears exposing even one more time,
The part of him that's most vulnerable.
His tender heart.
Better to just leave it hidden ...
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 7:19 PM UTC
The day blister as the sun followed 'er.
No shade nor a parasol as she goeth an' hope for evanescent heat
A basket in 'er hand, one way to marketplace
'Alt! A mad horse kicked thro'
Dropped on earth, dirt in 'er sleeves
"Gawd o' all horses keep yer eyes open to see!"
A fine young man bowed down for repent about his detriment ride.
O! Poor little thing!
A thorough water in the basket she offered for 'er long little journey.
** The vigor horse galloped an' circle round she.
'twas a good thing an' he proffers honourable ride.
There goes the curtsy 'off in the marketplace' says she.
Alt! The creature pause. Where is this? "thy big heart shalt hail for I, present thankfulness. Devoting thy fortune." the prince rendered his throne bounteously.
O! Applause how majestic upclose a palace could be.
'tis she wish e'er since. To seek for a lost playmate, hoping for camaraderie. Remembering in that small village where the little prince sneaked. Oh dear! 'Twas he!
Aye! The prince hoped the same an' knew all of a sudden. He made 'er his wife!
(An' they live happily e'er after. Bow)
-A
8/11/14
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 2:14 AM UTC
Five bedroom house, in estate
BMW, best of late
Cocktail wife, with breast inflate
Kids at play, on playmate
Mr. Jones, my best mate
Repossession of cars, on that date
A victim of my ego, I’ve become
Before dawn, on treadmill I run
Contracts, forecasts, reports my day begun
Sorry, I’ll be late, for supper ***
At home, after the sun
I promise, tomorrow, we’ll play my son
A victim of my ambition, I’ve become
Almost all, my hair turned grey
Its ulcers, that’s what the doctor say
My secretary, she led me astray
For another drink, I will stay
Tonight alone, in my house I lay
A victim of myself, I’ve become
Dec 29, 2009
Dec 29, 2009 at 8:47 PM UTC
Life is for living, they say.
But,
Pivoted around ego recognition endless ways.
We,
Churn out to be everyone but oneself
In denial untruth
We find a playmate
"Immersed in pretense"
Our loved game,we play.
"Relish" we say in unison,
"A rule"of the game.
Fooled into believing
There is no such thing as "Doomsday"
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 12:16 PM UTC
Love.
Of course, the great spirit said that word
when he set down the majesty of mountains
thus, spread curling softness through the seas,
sending little creatures wriggling, crawling, mewling, howling,
oh ye little fish and fowl, doodled up the dinosaurs,
a lumbering jurassic joke, then unleashed leviathan
from just a speck, and made some others walk *****
Love.
That word we need to hear
and the word that hurts so much.
It comes crowned with garlands, glistening
with the dew of pleasure. And underneath, the horn thrusts up
Dionysius and Venus, processions of Priapus, frenzied satyriasis
blind Baccus, luscious Pan and Zeus.
Ah yes. The juice.
Love.
And who has not recklessly ignored this word
or squandered it on abandoned, neon nights
that paled before the coming of cold mornings,
and who has not held back this word
from loved ones,
cowards of commitment,
circumcelliate, averruncate and absquatulate?
Love.
That little, mighty word that dominates our lives.
But what can we require of life and how can we survive
indifference in the barren waste and stay alive outside
without its whisper, without its cry and shout? And how can we aspire
to ecstasy without the tumult and whirlwind of its desire,
without its warmth, without its fire? So, we must turn again
to love's softness and love's pain. Again. And yet again.
Love.
It's easy, really. So go on, say it.
It's time. Why not? It's for the mothers and the lovers,
the fathers, it's for all the children who blindly seek.
It's for the teenagers and trembling old and the outcast and the isolate.
Even the soldier with the gun. Especially. It's for everyone.
The grave is lonely, deep and cold. By giving love before it's too late
those soft wings of the dove of peace unfold.
Love is the playmate. Enjoy, reciprocate.
This is the message I communicate.
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 5:55 PM UTC