"poignantly" poems
Enchanted by spring’s
rustling whispers
... whistles swirl
in the pungent springtime breeze;
steeped with a bedazzling
cadence
heart dancing
to a hummingbird’s
whirs
waves of breath,
of little wings waft,
whooshing throughout
twining honeysuckle lattice
a
tiny manger
beset of hidden gold
precious speckled eggs,
silver lining of smallest hopes
fruits of fruition
continuum beheld prize,
concealed in interwoven rootlets;
potently perfumed flowers
while away
the waning dark hours;
swollen full flower moon
waxing yellow,..
heavenly fragrance
sweetly-scented suckled nectar
the one with eyes of a child,
wonder ― hidden inside,
marvel in the light of grateful eyes
imbibing an unholdable moment's
spellbinding elixir
... poetry alive
air so poignantly perfumed
with blossom
moonstruck
by spring’s frolicking cadency
a reverent moment's
edifying intoxication
a sobering beauty that just is...
someone ... May 2017
May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 12:19 PM UTC
There is just no sleeping tonight
I am trying but the twirling of my head
won't let everything be alright.
So I sit, gaze straight instead.
No, there is just no rest in sight.
The coffee *** is waiting ready
for the dawning of early morning light,
but I keep my gaze steady.
If there will be snoozing against minds might
tomorrow will come in glory
to greet me without a fight
and I will continue on
to the following verse of this story.
Verse 2...Still no sleep
Magnitude of mighty morals
must mind minutes on laurels.
Lay lying in lighted luck lamenting.
Love lives lively less forgetting.
Find favor of Father's future.
Fair in fun filled creature.
Crawl in crevasse created.
Can of cold cards played.
Pain of posture posed poignantly.
Part in pretty petals painted loosely.
Learn of leaning lantern low.
Lid open liturgy's lighted meadow!
Oct 3, 2011
Oct 3, 2011 at 8:15 PM UTC
And there it was
The most beautiful Persian pomegranate
With a skin so flawless
It would be a sin to cut it open
The pomegranate was calling out
Begging her to take a bite
But she knew it was not hers to taste
She resisted the temptation for so long
Eyeing the pomegranate every day
As she strolled by the fruit bowl
One day, when she walked by
She noticed the pomegranate had been cut open
It’s juicy plump seeds alluring her to just take one bite
What would be the harm in just one taste?
She put a seed in her mouth
It’s water-laden pulp seed burst
Exposing her tongue to something
She had never tasted before
Every day
She would walk by
And the Persian pomegranate
Would demand her to take more
So she would slip a few more seeds onto her innocent tongue
And as time went on
The seeds tasted better, sweeter
And more seductively succulent
One day
She placed the seeds into her mouth
But to her surprise
Her mouth began to burn
Her gums began to blister
Her lips began to bleed
She was perplexed
Because the pomegranate was
A poison disguised
As a beautiful, sweet fruit
The pomegranates poison
Consumed her body slowly
Ripping her insides to shreds
As the days she spent enjoying its sweet offerings
Flashed before her eyes
The Persian pomegranate
Painfully and poignantly killed her
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 8:41 PM UTC
Too roughly hewn and cleaved around edges frayed
shaped and reshaped by these own calloused hands
I realize the shape of things ,... who I am ... who I've become ―
The sound of my own raw voice knows not convention ;
it was nothing more than words of fragmented tomes exposed
Only the broken wind covering footprints on the road not taken
on a never ending journey into a lonely abyss
These greatest fears I've come to know ;
my greatest weakness bared and borne
broken dreams bought and sold,
for less than they were worth.
In the chill of this winter darkness grown cold
a newly recurring silence echoes poignantly,..
redux
forevermore
self-loathed
déjà vu ―
***The only dream's fruition ever feared:
to walk alone at that predestined parting moment
within a stones throw of six feet underground ,...
dropping to these knees at a threshold
well-nigh left behind,
knocking at the door that leads beyond ―
never needing to know how to say goodbye …***
thinking out loud ... 11. 29. 2016
Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 12:49 PM UTC
And still I dream of stepping back into yesterday
Where time flowed so freely golden with serenity
We would sit in pine scented grove and sip lemonade
Our talk tranquil as sun dappled creek murmuring in quiet wood
Never arguing or complaining but flooded with blissful reverie
A time bygone and peaceful, learning to know each other again
Listening to the background symphony of cicadas and katydids
Poignantly nostalgic with yearnings of bygone days
Watching velvety dusk deepen into shades of whispering night
Relishing each breeze laden with moss and murmuring pine
Anticipating the dawn awakened by drowsy robins and wood thrush
Skies east to west stained with strawberry hues and dreams renewed
And still I shall dream on
~Hilda~
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 11:13 PM UTC
Gray Owl hearkens
the dappled daybreak knell
echoing through
the wildwood forest stand;
rock doves and frosty stones abide,
where a marooned heart doth dwell,
disrobed by the longest night's frigid touch
Timber stand grips tight
red clay and bedrock of ages,
postured tall and strong
as eagle's spirit throne
Pine cones hide
in the low drifting clouds,
ripe acorns tumble down alone
unto a windblown
shallow earthen grave,
hillocked beneath
the sky-high canopy
Bones of branches,
furrowed bark from burled oak,
wood-grains of pith,
natural gnarled achings
peeled by the shivering
wind's breath
Paling autumn memories
grow dim as the receding sunlight,
recollections of ebbing Jasmine's
mellowing fragrant balm
waft aloft in a favorite fading fantasy,
the edge of winter metamorphosis
bears down with a prodigious weight
of a different kind of retreating light;
brindled Queen Anne's lace
hold sway across
the tawny frostbitten meadow
imbuing the poignantly
whetting breeze
The blink of an eye winks,
to catch sight of
an intimate glimpse,
an unspoken
solitude holds forth,
the mesmerizing coo of rock doves,
reverently mirroring
the sanctity of the forest wildwood
lingering amongst the frosty
ferns and stones
The harmony of tranquil silence wanders;
only the bowing resistance of the boughs
manifest the shapeless wind’s
whispered breathe
swirling above the labyrinth threshold;
therein lies an unfractured fault line
rooted deeply beneath
the earth’s crust
like the sonorous heart
of a sanctuary hearthstone
Hence there is symmetry
felt in silence that only whispers
in the deep toned consonant
of our own harbored sighs
a holy human blood link
born of heritage wilderness heartwood
beats keenly alive
written by: harlon rivers ... December 2017
Dec 22, 2017
Dec 22, 2017 at 6:21 PM UTC
If only there were words
to the unspoken verses
when silence is the only sound
More than only
near paralyzing torn,
weary of searching endlessly
for what cannot be found
silence whispering poignantly
drowning out the midnight rain,
There is no more sorrow
in search of the lost
unstrummed guitar chords
Unwritten psalms
forever left unsung;
without amity,
woe betides an unfinished,
abandoned heart's song
Only a heart lonely knows,
there is no absolving darkness
whispering of screaming silence
by night and by day:
"all things must steal away"
not to be thought of wanderings end
as a velvety-crimson rosebud
shamelessly withers brown
Swirling eddies stir
a black swan of loneliness
swimming within the flood
of raven river waters'
silently eclipsing
its pitch black flow
Muted pleas silent as pity
blowin' in the fleeting windsong,
speaking in beckoning salutations
singing in sweetly beseeching tongues
Like the hush of a pensive soul,
once touched by another, moved
like a bedrock marrowed mountain
left stifled, stranded and wondering,
feeling an awkward silence
when the leaves come falling down
There are no misbegotten promises
cast lightly in the moonlight’s restless spell;
there is no solacing stillness
when silence is the only sound...
Mar 11, 2017
Mar 11, 2017 at 8:46 PM UTC
comedy
clandestine couples
clamerous cosmetics
coughing guffaws
garrulous giggles
gratefully grinning
grotesque charlatans...
tragedy
torrid transgressions
tornado turnabout
tempestuous tradition
transcendent puberty
punishing parable
poignantly
pointless.
Shakespeare.
wove both into
his weft of
words.
SøułSurvivør
(C) 5/12/2017
May 12, 2017
May 12, 2017 at 11:18 PM UTC
leather of codes
child of no garden I want to be trash shining metal bucket streets
echoes of his scars crash deeply from his quick glance and words
his crushed inner faces blow by me like shotgun shells flipping ejected
a warm burn enters my ear and falls to the ground like pure seed
there has been a siberian tiger heart perhaps
a trumpet's bright coming tip in the night is his voice
but night has no color, only the air of space and eternal infinite collossalness
he has not been there, he knows I think I have been
his voice hunts in silence the opening of his throat
I never felt my neck arch as though I were angelic spinning holy pollen
my feet are broken from my birth's uncertain angles
my white skin is somber to me and it dreams of thick, muscular hair
his back hunts me like a prowling silent perfect killer
he has no meat for me in his most beautiful kind thoughts, nor ice
I know he does not want my soul, its irrelevance like bad country music
he glares at me his eyes are beautiful in their transubstantial wizardry
as though I a child with no hope to ever be less or more
this is the way beer cans bounce of cars better than wet silken ******* may rise
he has felt his lover's wine fully enter him in his sweetest moments
I am a child of no garden he would have
but thoughts of exclusion are often only private codes of want
his serbian tiger motion is utter but I am child of no garden until I can dance
I know he so poignantly relevant would in some fierce and mad
teach me of my father
that I might be coddled beyond redemption my white skin
he wants to giggle a soft stance or a minion of pretense
I am fully truly what he sees, yet I cannot touch him
he has no time for me I would see my heritage's murderous take
he knows I bow down to his conspicuous innocence
he has forgotten the child he knows I think I have been
he wears a leather of codes I can never remember
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 8:51 AM UTC
Flanked by port & island lights I solemnly write,
above hidden depths underneath silent tranquil wake,
strumming mine passion & shedding own sight,
to offer vast seas pure passion to take.
A skyline pilgrim, I poignantly pray,
as sky with coral mists glide leisurely past,
none 'cept tempest strides my heart's roaring bay;
I find myself vanished with the sea's spell cast.
It's beautiful now, but you aren't here,
and you won't find me here, I left long ago,
my thoughts are hazy, but the water's so clear,
let us drink one more before I go.
A toast to you, always to you,
towards that moon, oh that noble moon,
I raked down into sultry blue,
thinking of you,
it was always of you.
Dec 12, 2010
Dec 12, 2010 at 8:27 PM UTC
If the world keeps screaming I’ll break the night,
I’ll turn it around, I’ll bend the notion.
If the height gets steeper, don’t make a sound.
"Sacrifice yourself" is the name of religion.
Spinning the gears and faking frustration,
while the system fakes a male ******
Here is your chance to go sour and
I hope you have the guts to walk into this trap;
If nothing is real, or we’re made out of sin,
what is the image of God?
I am not willing to be forgiven,
I am not the victim of your forgiveness,
I am not forgiven, I am not a sinner,
and I’m not a martyr for your God.
I’m just Austin Heath,
dying, and leaving nothing behind,
in the name of no one or no idea,
and not even poignantly.
Just mediocre.
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 10:02 PM UTC
As fishes wriggling
The entirety of their slippery bodies
In vast oceans, lost in the glory of waters
Instincts meander
Their way through to the mind
In a pool of imagined
Sensuality with wanton desires
A longing for the temporal
Poignantly stands *****
In the throne-room of man's emotions
Motioning with a seemingly motionless demeanor
Unfulfilled cravings
Cradles persistence
In his goal oriented pursuits
Thoughts are repressed
Mental imageries suppressed
To pave way for **********
Of pleasantly positive feelings
Yet the uncouth lingers
Occasionally engages the enthroned
In scrimmages in their bid to dethrone them
Man holds the prerogative
To serve either of them willingly
Equally, man possess all it takes to be
Heinously hedonistic
And heartily attractive in personality
To please society
None can reach complete perfection
At both extremities
© Seth Boss Kay @ 19/10/2013
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 2:10 AM UTC
grit sand conglomerate binds
friction holding - heel steady
tottering
navy lace snags
upon brick dipped in night
save for - street lamps poignantly
establishing form to
lips seeking
to traverse the topography of your structure
tongue craving - salivary essence about mine
my curls remember being dragged
across,
- then –
pressed firmly against the brick
snagging
on vertical groove and red clay
your pelvic bone
ground deep – pressurized
into dust against my own
Serotonin, oxytocin fuse
Blown -
Neural patina – thick
Pompeii to Vesuvius
Diffuse
Carbon filament lattice
Clings - to
ancient couple
cuddling
in ashen grave
Compressed densely
Perchance time will compress this grit
creating friction under sole.
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 9:08 PM UTC
It's so hot.
The priest's sermon-
whose warm voice so soft,
soothes the yearning ear,
encouraging oft,
for all to hear.
But the soul most dear.
And the poignantly silent Cross behind him.
People's voices-
rosaries, novenas,
strapping their arms,
but not their lips.
Heartily singing
or maybe snoring,
rising to the heavens,
but drowning my little own.
Like each sentence is simply a groan.
And the endless cars honking outside us.
Then in my little reverie, I yell:
Don't hush me!
When I pray to Thee,
all I want is Thy sympathy,
whose essence to a dry soul so empty,
would quench thousandfold a bounty!
Cries.
Then right beside my pew,
a light of unfurled color lies,
reveled by so few.
Then I look to the left,
facing the most mighty sun
shining on my burned cheeks,
on the blackest of hair,
closing my ****** eyes,
having a little fun.
Only one voice
of direction, of choice,
of just enough noise-
to brighten my day,
to go along with whatever may,
I am allowed to play!
And Mom tells me to keep silent,
before any wall gets a dent,
after I've learned what they've meant.
But, it's Sun-day.
The one light, the one love,
for the one me-
God allowed me to be.
Feb 2, 2014
Feb 2, 2014 at 2:12 AM UTC
There were no last words
between us-
but you whispered "I love you."
Not acknowledging-
instead feigning prior pains
(acute metaphysical backache or similar;
poignantly posed silence construing that
I'd been wounded),
I told you goodbye.
Of course, it was a train
and a girl scenario-
her off-white handkerchief trailing
out the window, itself
saying an extra goodbye
(saying surrender).
I punched the dirt after,
because love
felt false- especially
coming from me, an unkempt
young actor.
You're a newly colored
kaleidoscopic green,
an old film repainted
(it was still relevant;
strong cast- a beautiful female lead
needing submission, to be tamed).
I am solipsistic graphite smudges
forming a halo
around the ordinary providence
of bold characters
erased from an inelegant diner napkin-
I wrote I love you I wrote I love you I wrote I love you.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 5:07 PM UTC
One of the men who had built this country died today.
I had lamented his passing to give my sadness a way.
In black suits we all looked like those statues that had been standing there for centuries.
Poignantly i felt a lot of things all at the same time, so eerie.
Today, a son had his father properly buried.
A man who had told me that the right ties would attract girls.
A man who had let me drive his Porsche 912 and made me feel like i wanted to preserve those moments i got my hands on the wheel as in victory i roared.
A man with his manhood pride had told me that 'a man always wants more'
I saw no dead body today.
I saw a man in his beautiful black satin tuxedo as if it had been only yesterday
And suddenly i felt like i was going back onto those happy summer days when i was a little boy.
And all of a sudden my heart was filled with unexplained joy
An elephant dies and leaves its tusks
A deer dies and leaves its antlers
A crocodile dies and leaves its skin
A man dies and leaves his name.
Oct 16, 2010
Oct 16, 2010 at 2:42 AM UTC
With no money in your pockets,
and a desire for a smooth ride.
Yeah, **** it... something simple.
Lust for something easy.
You speak like
anything matters;
I complain in
the opposing
direction.
Bleeding, and everyone would care
if you'd just ******* show them.
Overdriven in lifestyle,
by design without purpose.
Wearing black, but not poignantly.
Cursing because ****
it feels so good.
Smashing whatever since
you don't own anything.
Dissenting because you can.
Maybe you'll steal **** tomorrow,
maybe you'll tell a lie.
Breathe in.
Cough, choke, turn indigo.
You're gonna do just fine.
Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 5:26 PM UTC
Jasmine flows in lemon scented tendrils
Wafting on breeze in honeysuckle air,
Drifting in promise of delicacy hovering
Caressing pubescent delights from despair.
Delicate flavours of spearmint and juniper
Tilt in a torment of honeyed delight,
Garlanded avenues sweet and deliciously
Titivate nostrils till sensuous night.
Amorous airs in the warm summer evening
Poignantly poised in the lingering scent,
Romantically touching the tremble of senses
Released in a sigh of exquisite content.
M.
22 August 2015
Aug 22, 2015
Aug 22, 2015 at 12:30 AM UTC
Fortissimo -A
The great fall,
into eerie suffocating darkness
piano pianissimo
leaving smiles on faces inverted,
frozen tears that never rolled down.
The menacing overture
grim and heavy,
crushing fortitude, grief and joy
clawing each other out,
lucidly.
Agitato -B
The angst builds,
wrenching the mind from its rational gaze
chromatic disorder seeps in,
another descent begins.
Agitation bleeds
into rivers of melancholy
flowing fervently to the ******
where famished ears await
the soulful drop of anticipation and girth.
Seduction, no heart could withstand
submission, no slave would surrender.
Coda -A
Returning to where it began,
the exposition of extremes
a collapsing sky, a violent dream.
At the edge of belief,
madness is melody
poignantly orchestrated.
Fingers that questioned doom
have retorted swiftly.
The closing is at hand;
it ends quietly.
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 5:43 PM UTC
As drops of sunlight trickle down through these cloudy skies
I search for a hint of affection in your misty eyes
As these they sway poignantly to the melody of this lust filled breeze
They tell mute stories of those who came before, they do, these trees
The silence between us swallows the rumbling oceans without thought
As the silence is at an end, to keep it that way, countless battles I'd have fought
Songs play in the back of my mind that would've been fitting
As words I try and utter through these teeth I've been gritting
Reminds me of AstroTurf, it does, this patch of grass
To end this maddening silence I wish to blurt out something utterly crass
As the sun departs and leaves behind a fiery trail, the mood steers towards the glum
I pick up those tattered old shoes for I can tell when our time has come
Jul 21, 2013
Jul 21, 2013 at 8:44 PM UTC
I wonder what this world is coming to
When we have to overcomplicate everything
All I hear on the TV of late
Is ‘bare craic’ as my northern Irish friend would say –
“I can’t understand this credit crunch,” she said
Poignantly, (neither could I) “I think I’ll take
A dander down to the shops.” And so she did
We were out of milk
And living off salami
I picked up the paper
And I realise nothing is without a price
Or a fate
They are the two certainties
So is death
And the price is not so hard to see either.
The American bigwigs sit round a table
Complaining what is to be done about the financial crisis?
Each eating a $16 dollar muffin with their $8.48 coffee
Wondering where oh where can money be saved?
And they’ll get back in their private limos
Drive past their second addresses
Back down to Bel-air
Lock themselves in their villas
Count their bonuses
And sleep happy
After doing jack ****
While Greece is going down the crapper.
I can see the solution
Can you?
Or is it just me?
Or can you see it to?
Nov 11, 2011
Nov 11, 2011 at 3:06 PM UTC
Today these feelings are billowing
like a prevalent arbitrary
tension
of poets as elves
Is there any
thing new
to be proud of
a words structured in an order
peculiarly pleasant
refind enough
just and justified
as
the right chord
is
as a melody of a classical piano
to be laid down on a virtual array
of a poetry realm
over (( night I've danced
beautifully with you ))
laping erratically striking
harsh on hearing nerves system
embrace thy emptiness
to write is to discover
to arbeit machts mir frei
praying for minutes for a pasus that's not so
poignantly s l o w
after
hysterya of bumping crazy chords stampede
fades
hope that you are looking as nice as a well nurtured horse
horhe
hi **
four legged friends are a balsam
for our torn souls
wrecked emptyness is eating me alive
as a wicked
bewilderd beast
you are a honey jar
tilled with a bunch
of naughty
mischievous
sunny rays
tickle tickle
maroon and gold sweety
I need a bachelor
I needn't think unappropriate
I need to breathe I need to breathe
I needn't think about parasympathics
A n d D a m n I n e e d B a c h
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 11:21 AM UTC
"Cut me a piece of any size, large or small!"
a plead that beats lower my knees.
Like insects rushing poignantly,
with the pitter patter of hungry feet
I'll ****** a crumb, a mildewed one,
to curdle you close to the plug.
For to gag our hearts, is much unto our hunger;
a taste bitter in **** rumbles louder asunder.
What we feel will run under and over
our shoulders, a cascade of thunder,
that can crack this old boulder.
Oct 27, 2010
Oct 27, 2010 at 12:59 PM UTC