"plummeted" poems
and there…harold dreamt,
he dreamed of a boat,
one with a brown bottom,
and a rusty green rutter,
and it spun
and it spun,
the siem reap river,
of sunkissed toffee color,
he sailed on and on,
and stared at his brother,
he looked up above from the boat,
straight up at the hot steamy sun,
and his large white eyes,
stared up at a bird,
it was white and small,
with slender yellow legs,
that held a grace,
unlike any other
the crane flew in one circle above his head,
harold watched as it plummeted to the brown water below,
and at the last moment of its decent,
it shot up and across his horizon,
until it vanished
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 9:03 PM UTC
The wind roared
Whipping through the newly leaved trees
The rain drops plummeted down from the clouds
Soaking everything in their path
Including a little girl
Who loved to dance in the rain
Lightning struck a tree not too far from her
Thunder shaking the earth
She laughed as the static and sounds waves coursed through her veins
The storms reminded her of her parents
Violent and loud during their fights
And then clean and peaceful after they made up
They also reminded her of herself
Raw power barely contained inside her little form
The ability to amaze and intimidate all at once
The storm was a glorious force of nature
And she was blessed enough to be one too
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 3:10 PM UTC
As a child, they could not keep me from wells
And old pumps with buckets and windlasses.
I loved the dark drop, the trapped sky, the smells
Of waterweed, fungus and dank moss.
One, in a brickyard, with a rotted board top.
I savoured the rich crash when a bucket
Plummeted down at the end of a rope.
So deep you saw no reflection in it.
A shallow one under a dry stone ditch
Fructified like any aquarium.
When you dragged out long roots from the soft mulch
A white face hovered over the bottom.
Others had echoes, gave back your own call
With a clean new music in it. And one
Was scaresome, for there, out of ferns and tall
Foxgloves, a rat slapped across my reflection.
Now, to pry into roots, to finger slime,
To stare, big-eyed Narcissus, into some spring
Is beneath all adult dignity. I rhyme
To see myself, to set the darkness echoing.
4.7k
Blazing brightly in the night miles below on
Crete. Icarus plummeted. And puzzled.
The Phoenix shattered ablaze and battred
The phoenix Glances to the night sky.
As a bird of prey whizzes by.
Struck to ground.
Thundering sound.
Phoenix pauses beats his wings.
Flaming feathers burn and drift.
Rises slowly from the ashes.
Icarus crumbles in broken waxen wings.
Youthful tragedy. Never to rise.
No reclamation.
Silent hubris.
The dirge preceeds.
Then quietly
Receeds.
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 9:15 PM UTC
"From every wound there is a scar, and every scar tells a story.
A story says, I survived." - Fr. Craig Scott
**... a tribute to a fallen brother ― R.I.P Les
... you were with me every step of the way to the top**
crampon cleats tickle her bedrock
far below the frosty powder dusting;
released from where her majestic peak
parted yester night’s obstinate clouds.
the alpine atmosphere
first chilled and then plummeted
as the starlight glistened;
illuminated ice crystals sparkle
like diamonds in the rough.
I am overwhelmed
by the peaceful aura
surrounding me.
watching how
"these"
footprints
mark the snow
...arousing
a lucid,
stirring awareness
of my existence;
...inciting
a conscious moment,
extraordinarily deepening
the realization of being.
harlon rivers ... May 24th, 2013
May 28, 2018
May 28, 2018 at 10:18 AM UTC
It started with Guitar.
It ended with Snarky comment.
Guitar hit Song.
Song hit Smile.
Smile hit Happiness in a time of sadness.
Happiness hit Laughter and Laughter couldn't help but tip too fast.
Laughter hit Feelings.
Feelings hit Observation.
Observation hit Friendship, but more like Crush.
Crush hit Heart.
Heart hit Words.
Words shook a bit, but hit Send anyway.
Send hit Waiting, but Waiting brought Maybe.
But Maybe wasn't stacked right.
Maybe never fell.
But the other ones did.
The ones that didn't spell your name, but his.
Love hit Replenish.
Replenish hit Happiness.
Happiness hit Life with my true love.
Your name just lingered there, Maybe still standing.
But then Maybe toppled.
Maybe hit Conversation.
Conversation hit Doubt.
Doubt hit Curiosity.
Curiosity hit Coincidence and Coincidence was just too big to miss.
But that was the last part. Coincidence.
Because his name was prettier, nicer, and actually said yes.
But Coincidence just kept begging. Coincidence decided to get there anyway.
Coincidence pushed Alcohol and Alcohol tapped Texting on the shoulder.
Texting plummeted into Conversation.
Conversation hit Argument.
Argument hit Apology, but instead of Apology hitting Acceptance, it hit Snarky comment.
And that hit Resentment and a bit of Anger too.
Started with Guitar.
Ended with Snarky comment.
A Domino Effect into Catastrophe that I think about everyday.
Feb 13, 2013
Feb 13, 2013 at 5:08 AM UTC
Why can't I fly? Because, I am caged in the bowels of bitter, deceit.
Why can't I dance? Because, my body is bound to the gravity of unacceptable, honor.
Why, can't I sing? Because, my lungs are choked by this haute reservoir of insanity.
But, the Trapeze, artist...
The trapeze artist, climbs the ladder of awe, itself, and walks the silver lining of death.
Why can't I write? Because, my hands are bound in the filth of my past,
meddling with broken things.
Why can't I speak? Because, the honor I am bound to, is to live, life, behind closed windows.
Why can't I see? Because, the blindfolds that sheath my eyes from sin, are more sin than any satan incarnate.
But, the Trapeze, artist...
The trapeze artist, climbs the rungs of the narrow road, and walks over the pit of doom, to save itself.
There is no explanation for this act.
So, why can't I shout? Because, I am voiceless to the concerns of the audience.
Why can't I beg? Because, the world has no room for weakness, fear and more loss.
Why can't I scream? Because...
Because...
Because the Trapeze artist dropped off the high-strung ledge of wonders...
And plummeted into a darkness, that has robbed my audience, of all conscionable thought.
Because... the Trapeze artist, is dead.
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 12:42 PM UTC
I took it
Eagerly
ate it up
from your hand
persuasive
treacherous
hand
You sold me
more
Saw the budding
addiction
the yearning
for more
access
to another me
adventure
ecstasy
I fell
plummeted into abstinence
Fear
I needed more
of it of
the other me
You stalled
me
Tricked
Pleased
Disoriented
me
I
got
lost
ad
dict
ed
Mar 27, 2013
Mar 27, 2013 at 6:20 AM UTC
Icarus laughed as he fell;
The golden ichor streaming
From his nose, his mouth,
His spun tresses behind him
Fluttering as angel wings do.
Icarus screamed as he plummeted
to the earth; melted wax
scalding his shoulders where
his wings once were; broken
feathers fluttering in his firey wake.
Apollo mourned as Icarus fell,
not a sound issued from his
doomed lips. His wings, torn
and broken and burned, danced
behind him, more lively than
Icarus would ever be.
Nov 5, 2020
Nov 5, 2020 at 2:58 PM UTC
1. the pH in my stomach has plummeted
to an all time low. as a defense mechanism,
my stomach clenches.
2. my jaw is extremely sore from grinding
my teeth while i was sleeping (and having
the regular nightmares.)
3. sometimes, my joints decide to act like they
are eighty years old instead of twenty.
4. that's what i get for burying the acidity of
the self loathing.
5. now i am a pinata except i'm hallow.
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 8:44 PM UTC
I walk the empty road of hurried days
the dark holds opportunities that the light burns through.
Nerves have been narcissistic
in that self-loathing battering
that I promised you I wouldn't commit to again.
is it different if you're a witness?
Hiding isn't part of the agenda,
if you could call irrationality an agenda.
here's to touching upon a few points in which I don't show all sides.
I'm nervous to talk to the people who make me happy
and I'm jaded to their presence,
because I'm a modern-day gatsby
with a touch of bukowski (or maybe a slam)
and all I want is for this romantic inside of me to give up on the struggle
and give in.
I want to let her form allude me because it's not important,
she just wants recognition for the fact that she has an education
and knows how to use it.
I'm just going to let my words smash onto the page, maybe edit
before a show, maybe not.
Probably go drink a beer on the local trail and stare at the back
yards of the wealthy and sharpie in an eye ball on the cement
brick on which I set my empty bottle for company, because
flowers don't get far in foam.
Nostalgia here we are again,
this time there's no search for meaning,
I know you completely and ever since we've met
you've refused to let go (somewhat of a curse, yet I love you).
If I want to let myself be free, then I have to let go of others judgement.
If maybe for a second I didn't think of what others thought about me
and I didn't think about them to occupy the empty space, then I would
truly return to the person I was before my self-esteem plummeted beneath
all that I knew to be right and wrong. Before it hurt to write my feelings
because of the fear that what I wrote wouldn't be good enough, or long enough,
no matter how many compliments came shooting through me.
"I forgot, you're bad at accepting compliments."
I don't want that to be true, I don't want to beat myself up
over the fact that someone else has great beauty simply
because I am blind of my own.
Self-love, here I come,
it'll help me live life without tangles.
May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 4:06 AM UTC
In the clefts of a mighty mountain, a single pebble lay. Held in place by only a few flecks of earth, quietly it sat until one warm day the sun melted the snow on top of a frozen peak. Slowly water dripped down and bit by bit it wore the earth away. Until finally after many seasons of melting snow, the pebble fell loose one day. Falling down the crack in the side of the mountain, the pebble struck a fragile ledge. The weight of the single stone was too much and the ledge gave way. Down it plummeted with it's brother the pebble, down into a ravine along the side of the mighty mountain, crashing with the sound of thunder went the pile of rocks shattering the peace of the whole mountain. Great was the shaking that rattled the mountain to it's core. Then back up the crack from which the pebble had fallen, the ripple caused a rift splitting the mountain asunder. Then what was once a single mountain was split in twain. Leaving twin peaks and a vast gap where a single pebble once had been.
Jan 1, 2017
Jan 1, 2017 at 9:15 AM UTC
I sat on a rock and stared
At the wisps of cloud
Obscuring the blue of the sky
The grey drew nearer
And I realized it was not merely grey
But aqua, navy, burnt, and yellow
I tried to scream
No words left my mouth
Then they left the sky
Plummeted to the earth
From the shelter I had taken only seconds before
I saw them
Those ducks
Those stupid ducks
Those stupid suicidal ducks
Destroy what remained of my garden
May one thousand starving rednecks boil you alive
As I watch my garden be avenged.
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 8:20 PM UTC
A waltz with broken legs and a wailing heart.
A constant state of fear, of the inevitable darkness this way comes.
Where every thought sings to me “Do it.”
She sounds like me, and I’m afraid.
I’m afraid I’ll do it.
My blood would run a crimson red,
My heart would cry me a river.
Tongue tied ******* looking to escape a body, not mine;
a mind out to **** me.
A living broken record.
Without skipping a beat I'm floating again.
What a high! My, oh my!
The whirlwinds calm,
for a moment.
I come back to life.
I go home.
Only For a moment.
A moment..
You see? darling,
If you wait long enough, dear,
I will have plummeted again, and again; Forever, again.
Sep 6, 2017
Sep 6, 2017 at 3:36 AM UTC
Judgement is offered without being asked for,
Just remember that.
Vyscern
To be a good judge of character
You gotta see further than the books front cover
You have to look deeper, must find meaning
Between the pages and the paragraphs and what it is you're seeing
Know that every page number is another day on scene
Know that pages are stained from the blood we bleed
Know that pages crumple with the words unspoken
And know each new chapter is a lifetime token
Some may label "money", "corruption", "greed"
But know you can help swiftly as Godspeed
They opened up to you and it's up to you to see
That crazy times make people do crazy things
I'm just holding out the hope,
Standing still as I reel against the ropes
Tell me how long til I fall down
Weightless as a feather, gone without a sound
I'm just holding out the hope,
Standing still as I reel against the ropes
Tell me how long til I fall down
Weightless as a feather, gone without a sound
She opened up to me, for strangers advice
Is easier to get than from others in your life
There's no fear of judgement, disappointment, or people
Who like to spill secrets that are too dark and evil
I looked in the mirror and it became see-through
Not a reflection of myself just Myself Mark 2
It's funny how that works, the lies we pursue
The hope that something worse will surely make a better you
Know that the engravings on each book spine
Is a scar from the past, another mark in time
As you run your fingers you ask "where is the beauty?"
If you look past the cover you may finally see
I'm just holding out the hope,
Standing still as I reel against the ropes
Tell me how long til I fall down
Weightless as a feather, gone without a sound
I'm just holding out the hope,
Standing still as I reel against the ropes
Tell me how long til I fall down
Weightless as a feather, gone without a sound
I can't tell you how to run your life
But I tell you it's dangerous to run with knives
Maybe you don't care because pains the prize
Trust me, it's a trap that'll **** you as you fly
Icarus himself fell from the clouds
And plummeted to the ocean, an arrow straight down
I will help you surely as Jesus Christ
Has been told from three days to come back to life
So I may die, but that's okay
With wax wings I flew too high anyway
The pain is a trap that'll **** you as you fly
And I'm not ready to ready another goodbye
I'm just holding out the hope,
Standing still as I reel against the ropes
Tell me how long til I fall down
Weightless as a feather, gone without a sound
I'm just holding out the hope,
Standing still as I reel against the ropes
Tell me how long til I fall down
Weightless as a feather, gone without a sound
I will hold out for you
Talk to me, make me see
Convince me that its true
That it's not worth helping you
I'm just holding out the hope,
Standing still as I reel against the ropes
Tell me how long til I fall down
Weightless as a feather, gone without a sound
Feb 24, 2017
Feb 24, 2017 at 5:40 PM UTC
twist around and call me deadly.
call me deadly, so I know enough
to cramp a headache away and steal
an evil from beyond a lifting pick-up
of a cell-phone denied service as it acted
strangely at the last house party it attended.
bereft of all wings, you did not glide... you
plummeted to the earth like a
question mark.
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 4:29 PM UTC
Fear
of
flying—
facing fear
he boarded the plane
which some minutes after takeoff
violently shook and then plummeted toward earth—
him being sad, not over his impending death, but having just won the lottery
© 2020 by Mark Toney. All rights reserved.
Mar 22, 2020
Mar 22, 2020 at 11:13 PM UTC
When I was young and still quite dumb,
I tried out something just for fun.
I didn’t know if it would work,
My sister said I was berserk.
Feeling a little bit too clever,
I tied a few bed sheets together.
Then tied the sheet rope to the bed
“Please hold my weight”, I silently begged.
I opened the window, dropped the rope,
And for the best I only hoped.
With both my arms around the twine,
I started inching down the line.
Then, suspended in mid air,
I heard the rope begin to tear,
And with a rather dreadful sound,
From two floors up I plummeted down.
Around mid fall I heard a crack,
I landed, grunting, on my back.
My head felt dizzy, my finger ached;
The whole length of my back was scraped.
I walked home limping in a shame.
For there was no one else to blame.
Oh, and one thing worse than my broken finger?
My entire family watching from the window.
Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 5:16 PM UTC
2:00am Saturday Morning and his restlessness reclined on his mind
The room was immensely silent but held a forceful amount of chaos
His large feet plummeted to the cold floor; he roamed out of his beguiling room
*
His body was almost bare and every movement echoed through him
The empty foil tins from a takeaway he had eaten at 8:00pm casted a noticeable stare across the kitchen like a coin to a magpie
The fridge was only a couple strides away now; he prematurely stretched his arm ready to grasp the frigid handle
The fridges seal parted and a saintly yellow light radiated in front of him
He stared nonplussed into the fridge for about 3.5 seconds
Celery
Sitting there in the centre of the fridge appearing as tasteless as it would taste
Unappetising.
The light diminished as the door closed.
Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 5:06 PM UTC
Eyes
so dark they swallow reflections,
Lips
dried and burned by acidic lies,
Tears
avalanching down proud cheekbones,
You
scream curses to the sky.
I
stand watching on a hill.
Tears
painting blood on the green of grass,
Lips
bit shut to prolong the silence,
Eyes
reflecting flames of the setting sun.
From where I stood
I could see
Shadows dancing
Around the barren patch of land
Where you stood watching
As the sun plummeted
Extinguished by the frozen skies.
You stood
Looking out to sea
Fingernails cutting
Deep into the palm of your hand
As you held on
To a single white rose
Dyeing it red as the grass at my feet.
From where I stood
I could hear
Tears pounding the soil
At your feet
A steady rhythmic beating
Like a heart
Still bent on living.
You stood
Whispering to the shadows
Circling like vultures
Their wings clipped
So they crawl on the ground
Like worms slowly trying to make their way
To the secret underneath your feet.
Eyes
gray as the bright lonely moon,
Lips
whispering the silence of goodbye,
Tears
settling on the edges of a crooked smile,
You
took something that was once mine.
I
lie buried in damp regret.
Tears
locked behind deadened eyes,
Lips
poisoned by your last goodbye,
Eyes
sewn shut by the hand of your obsession.
Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 3:21 AM UTC
It's a mystery to note
that despite how advanced in age we are
still we earnestly strive to survive, preserve
at all costs this physical entity
My sister, Vivien and I
watched vicariously
as our 91 year old Father
tubes plugged in every orifice and cavity
sat gripping the edge of his hospital bed
gasping for air
We didn't know it then, but he was suffering
a mild heart attack
mentally, tenderly we massaged
his Spirit with prayers
I thought to myself
how difficult it is to convince yourself
that you are not this body
while warm blood and passions rush
through veins and brick by brick
from birth we carefully construct,
insulate, protect, pamper and cater to
the whims and demands of this
terra firma
I stared numbly as hospital staff
wheeled Dad away for further tests
Emergency room visits were
fast becoming a regular ritual
Intravenous bags hang
heavy black nimbus clouds
stingily dispensing one last drop of mortality
my heart a stone sinking in my chest
plummeted with a thud into a bottomless
inky pool
so many poignant, familial memories
rowing merrily across the paper thin
surface of Life's fragile dream
I could sense my mother's intangible presence
close by
soft brown sepia eyes gazing tenderly
through the partially drawn diaphanous veils
chariots swinging low
father's condition is stable now
though they released him for the holidays
the appellation, "Comeback Charlie"
our nickname for his extraordinary
resilience and vigor
didn't have quite the same ring
something missing, that spark, stolen
reflected in hollow, vacant
jack-o-lantern eyes
I prayed as we prepared a tropical
fruit basket to cheer him up
that he would clearly see
an Angel not a thief
standing eternally by his side
Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 10:12 AM UTC
The roof quaked and the sky cracked.
Thunder rang through the misty atmosphere,
and rain plummeted from the overcast sky.
I could hear the drops thrumming rhythmically on the windows,
and the splashing of the cars that meandered down the soggy roads.
Lightening shot down and splintered the heavens,
followed as always by the roaring of the dark night.
I felt the house shuddering
as torrents of rain were cast forward,
and gales of wind crashed around it like waves on the rocky shore.
Through the dripping glass panes,
I saw fog gathering in the dense, stormy air,
shrouding the leafless trees and neat fences in mystic obscurity.
The persistent booming of the heavens did not cease,
and the pounding of the raindrops soldiered on,
but in all the noise, the clamor, the chaos,
the only thing I could hear
was calm.
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 12:00 AM UTC
It says,
“For all have sinned
and fall short of the glory of God!”
So, I ask you,
just how much have
I sinned in comparison
to the pedestal you
set yourself upon?
How much have I plummeted
beneath our great Lord's
merciful feet,
when I dare to challenge
the oppression of earth's
white-man evangelist bigotry?
I ask you,
most wise and knowledgeable
devoter,
just how far do I fall
from the Lord our God's
reaches of heaven
when I have questioned
on the magnitude
of our fellow man's
prejudice and injustice,
and you have not?
Jan 28, 2021
Jan 28, 2021 at 9:27 PM UTC
I walked to the place today
the place where our bridge
used to be.
It's still hidden
deep within my mind. I
know the way to the spot
all too well.
I stand and look across the chasm
The structures that anchored our bridge
to the canyon wall are now overgrown
with ivy and vines. The once
mighty body of the bridge itself
lies a thousand feet below, slowly
eaten away by the river of change.
The river that also eats away at our
canyon walls, pushing us ever further
apart.
I remember when we built that bridge.
I saw you across the ravine. You didn't
notice me, you were too busy smelling
the tiger lilies. I was in awe.
I felt like a fool pretending to be wise
I felt like a boy pretending to be a man
I yelled towards you, hoping you'd notice.
You did.
You smiled.
I almost died right there.
I sent you love poems on kites
You always blushed as you read
Then one day I threw over a line.
It was just the beginning.
Over the months, I built upon that
line, until I had constructed a
mighty bridge to
Span the gap
I was finally together with you
Everything was right. My life
was filled with a soothing light.
I remember the night our bridge collapsed.
I remember the hateful words and venemous,
acidic thoughts that became kindling.
We spit bile and gasoline soaked barbs at each other
soaking the bridge with discontent.
We hurled insults at breakneck speeds, creating
sparks with the collisions. The result was a towering
inferno between us. It was fueled by contempt and
selfishness.
Still we shouted, unaware of the permanence of what
we were doing
By the time we came to our senses, we were too late.
The bridge creaked and bowed as the fire consumed
it. I remember the last thing I saw before it fell. I saw
your eyes staring at me through the flames, your
beautiful eyes lit up by the moment. The tears
reflected off of your face.
The bridge finally plummeted into the abyss below. It
was a falling star of potential energy. What we could
have had. I cringe when I think of how black the river
looked that night.
Now I'm standing here at the spot that it all
started. I look up, and I see you on the other
side again. You're wearing a white dress and
a smile.
I smile back.
My heart glides.
Ready to begin anew
Jul 24, 2012
Jul 24, 2012 at 9:01 PM UTC
I.
Please give me shelter
from the rain and snow
Give me a place
where I may grow.
I'll mend you up,
make you look new.
Strike a fire in your hearth
and make those coals really glow.
All I need is some solace,
and a place of sanctuary.
I dearly need to get out
of the rain and snow.
II.
Grant me to watch the roses
creep along your stoney walls;
you look so ravishing
sitting abandoned in these feilds.
There is Perfection in your windows,
Triumph in your thatched roof,
Wisdom in the worn walkway
leading to your door.
I see love in your sturdy structure,
And as those roses grow up you,
you grow more upon me....
III.
The seed of my affection
becomes a burning infatuation.
I've plummeted into a
great sea of flames
contorting and licking and biting and twisting
pulling at me like the waves
caressing your near by shores.
I long only to stroke the stones
of your existance, to run my hands through your dirt
and through your grass.
I long only to exemplify you, worship you
To me- this home, this shrine, this temple,
you are omnipotent.
To be held above all else,
a treasure to be beheld by only myself.
IV.
As time creeps along
your walls commence to crack.
Your straw turns soggy and brown.
You are leaky and drafty.
and your door hangs crooked
as you begin to slouch and decay.
Yet, I shall stay.
I wrinkle and become stiff and grey.
I will not leave you, I refuse to stray.
For you've given me shelter,
you protected me from the snow and rain.
So for you, my love shall never wane.
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 2:22 PM UTC