"postponement" poems
You're all bark and no bite
How could something wrong feel so right
Wish we could've had just one night
But it wasn't in the cards
I'm alone here while you need space
Stuck between a rock and a hard place
It's the closest thing to any embrace
That I'll ever feel
Whether mountain or molehill
Tears are falling in my milk spill
I swallow down another hard pill
From my half empty glass
Vicarious atonement
Another happiness postponement
Damaged heart and stolen moments
Back to square one
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 5:13 PM UTC
for you, we bundle into the car,
the littlest
(half my brother and twice my nuisance)
and the middlest
(14 going on favorite)
the bitterest
(only girl and pen-in-hand)
and the biggestest
(20 years
of bombastic nonsense)
30 minutes and four cornfields later
he'll start.
"i have to ***
"there's a bottle up there, dad."
"dad, i have to ***
"dad."
"dad."
"dad."
and he's going to *** in that ******* bottle
which will inevitably stay in the car for the remaining 8 and a half hours,
sloshing and yellow
too dangerously close to the color of something
you would actually drink.
the two youngest
will get into some sort of argument
some sort of argument that i will intervene in.
"shut up!" he'll say.
"chill out!" i'll shout.
"you chill out!"
and my father and my stepmother
will eye from the front seat
until one of them turns around
("relax, madeline!" sharply).
and then the oldest
like clockwork
will act like he knows more than he does about something
(my father will just chuckle, but i'll begin, "bullsh-" i'll begin, but my stepmother will hiss,
"madeline!" as if i've killed somebody
even though the 8-year-old curses even worse than i do).
he'll make a face at me
and i'll make a face at him.
the littlest will
inevitably
stomp on my seatbelt about 30 times a second
which i will not be able to stand,
and we'll get into an argument which will turn into me
versus
the whole car
(afterwards, much stewing,
and resentfully cranking my ipod up as loud as it will go).
9 hours and 12 thousand cliff-faces later
we'll get there.
we'll make it.
we'll only be
a little worse for the wear.
we will be swept up by our twelve billion aunts
our nine billion uncles
and our three billion cousins,
like we always are.
someday something will be missing.
first it was your back,
and the postponement,
and eventual cancellation of our trip.
then it was your surgeries
(why weren't they working?)
and then it was a series of words i don't understand
stage
inoperable
3
cancerous mass
lung
malignant
radiation
therapy chemo
you may crumple in
on that blackness inside you,
that's eating you alive
one lung at a time,
pushing,
on your back,
until you can't even stand.
the fabric of our family
is plucked by this
disease.
this is my poem, my plea
for you
and for us,
that you not pull into the blackness,
and that you fight the tumors and the tests
and that you win.
Jul 31, 2012
Jul 31, 2012 at 10:42 AM UTC
Postponement of your anger
Will bring an effective solution
Delay makes mind stronger
By putting an end to confusion
With patience if you linger longer
Before you turns meek your emotion
Decide by being calm and steady
Provide mind time to study
Side with truth for a remedy
When your mouth is closed
Half the problem is solved
When your concern is disclosed
Your problem gets dissolved
When self-discipline is imposed
To help you God has resolved.
M V VENKATARAMAN
Jun 14, 2010
Jun 14, 2010 at 7:57 AM UTC
His life with her has been a struggle, things aren't the same anymore no time to cuddle.
Their relationship was a disaster following the aftermath, nothing could be fix that was left on their path.
Who's was at fault no one to blame or charge, however as they see it their love was demolish by and large.
Her accusation and jealousy was pushed on him with remarkable strength, this dilemma carried on to an unbelievable length.
Their hearts and mind exhausted and both were hurt, it seems they've gone to far and can't revert.
There was nothing the both can do; no gratification, this can not go on; their need for help was sought with desperation.
A love they shared with hate for one another on what grounds, people wouldn't listen they just turn around.
Lost and nowhere to turn; isolated from one another with eyes of tears, with two bleeding hearts pierced with a couple of spears.
Difficult to cling on to each other with time and space, not knowing that their relationship was a total disgrace.
Deep inside the ember of love glowing keeping them alive, hoping and praying their love will revive.
Not allowing her love to surface while grasping on to her superbia, taking his breath away with signs claustrophobia.
Struggling with little or no effort to makeup, with concerns of the inevitable of another breakup.
A love with no compassion only sorrow, a postponement until tomorrow.
As for now this relationship is adjourn, perhaps this love of their as gone to the point of no return.
May 4, 2012
May 4, 2012 at 4:12 AM UTC
It seemed so much as no new and uncommon thing
that what passes on as only a disappearance,
is but a temporary postponement of something
long withheld in feelingfulness, in treason of one’s
desire or simply, a hand which is there, or kept in a pocket
scouring for loose change, a hand which, somewhere,
is known in accurate proprioception: refusing to be held;
I swim against the current not
for the water behind your river
that dreams of fish
I wake not underneath the bowl
of moon slated by sensorial howl,
whose wounds are white like
a face once held in between palms
and sleep almost endlessly, together
with everything that twitches, slewing
to avoid collision, alliterates to blur meaning,
sways fervently to addle meeting
until we let loose a sigh, and unfasten ourselves,
dropping pace and both our eyes meet.
Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 2:12 PM UTC
You were about to leave
3 words to make you stay
It was a lie
I forced myself to say
Somehow you did believe
Eyes so bright. I looked away
Together for another second
another minute, another day
Jan 30, 2021
Jan 30, 2021 at 5:41 AM UTC
To dwell in the current
To aspire the morrow
Something you weren't
Something I sorrow
We all glance the former
We all forget futurity
Long and dream warmer
Long to appreciate obscurity
These years become days
These days only moments
Live life and find your way
Live life with no postponement
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 11:50 PM UTC
A girl like that
******* her way through the ranks
What can you make of them?
Don't want too ?
I've never believed that
I do
Delight in the darkness
I'm unable to cast shadows
And all the better for it
Copyright © 2011
Nov 10, 2011
Nov 10, 2011 at 4:18 AM UTC
Drugged
dragged down
cut
cut down
clown without
his thorny crown
Just now
it came to me
There is nothing
beyond this moment
Everything that will be
is just a stubborn postponement.
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 9:57 PM UTC
This dream worked paradise built on southern myth
Collapsed the other night, I’m sure.
Floorboards drenched in gasoline,
Burnt to embers in a seconds fifth.
A devote wife seen to be impure
Stricken dead by the last shell in a magazine.
The silhouette of a hollow soul
Took to dragging out her man.
He’s brought about betrothed in atonement
The latter half feeling hardly whole
He speaks soft words to his beloved Anne
Departure leaves no postponement.
Barrel presses in on the underside of his ear.
Carrying the sulfur scent that killed his love
He hears the trigger click, silence from the gun
No deafening boom for all to hear.
Takes the demon down with no more than a shove.
On the ground bellow stands his lover’s son.
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 3:19 AM UTC
Tho soft the snowflakes tumble down
The sunlight shines upon my skin
And peace, in quickly gliding tracks
Is found, and quietly takes me in.
Through white wheat fields and frozen lakes
We travel round the moment;
And mountain skies with glorious pasts
Plead for our departure's postponement.
Once-green fields and once-yellow trees
Are sinking down with the mellow breeze
Now blazing past while in my dreams
I picture spring and warmth with ease.
"Now arriving...careful exiting!"
Sounds as a rude alarm to me
And my sullen eyes again awake
To the winter outside my dreamy glee.
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 8:44 PM UTC
*"Forever"
is the here and now,
this very precious moment,
Appreciation and gratitude
for this blessing,
should be expressed without postponement!
By Lady R.F. (C)2017*
May 28, 2017
May 28, 2017 at 7:40 AM UTC
Safely behind a wall of glass
I can see the life outside
Existing beyond, but told
the grass is not always greener
Wood walls, remain safe
Desks, continue to produce
Results, the resources gained
Coffin, the inevitable result
To take the door, or continue preparing?
For what do I risk from remaining?
Gain to never use
Use to never gain
Living without smiling
Surrender to postponement
The itch to run, the fear to arrive
Opportunity versus Opportunity Cost
What are the profits of opposite?
Green bills or memories?
Do they exist only apart?
Execute for profit, execute for joy
Creating equilibrium
A life long journey of seeking
To grin often in the faces
of those who have most
Jun 5, 2018
Jun 5, 2018 at 10:53 AM UTC
It's a wonderful night to die.
The sky is stark from the lights around,
And below my feet are traffic sounds,
Wherein I hear a stricken cry.
It is a wonderful dawn to die.
The sunrise gives my gray surrounds
A color like the shedding's of hounds.
But my cowardice cannot let me fly.
It is a wonderful day to die.
All about, feelings of love abound,
Excepting me. I am alone as if in the ground.
But I do not want to die.
It is a horrible dusk to die.
The sun sets slowly, beneath the hallowed ground.
Within my mind, I behold the eternal town.
Safe in bed, I sleep alone. It matters not to me tonight.
Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 4:16 PM UTC
white: whips like its many
a name,
divines in it still,
my eyes pure engulfed in
the silence;
white: which sound
spills the sud of women
sitting by the river
looming clean sheets purulent
with the Earth's gruel;
white:
oh, by the
window,
heart's ****** tillage or
a word unspoken sinking
in postponement, a moth's
glide in perpetual motion
white, many days,
fewer nights,
earth sways to crystalline
a tear to light a face
of beauty once
tarnished black with
the blood of roses.
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 1:25 AM UTC
At home on the couch
I crumple the edges
of the puke bag
The old times, the old songs
the excuses for the postponement
of the promised future
are back, back
from not having been away
We're still at home
in Old Man State, our
freedom was a dream
There are no more musicians
and no more beautiful
girls from Ukraine
The iron cold is back, back
from not having been away
Jun 11, 2023
Jun 11, 2023 at 2:43 AM UTC
Sunday morning.
The ***** *** chill has huddled,
And backed off for a week,
Maybe two,
Winter’s taunt tendered by reprieve,
An unexpected and
Odd postponement of pain and pulse.
The noose of minus 30
Loosens just a smidge,
The condemned man’s smirk,
Part sass this smile of temporary pardon,
Slips into place
Masks a weathered face
Whose wrinkles
Like the rings
Of the twisted Methuselah tree
Accumulate and record.
Dawn appears as a righteous force,
An arrogant prince this weak winter sun,
Still, sunlight sterilizes,
Scrubs away the stain of night.
It will be a black and white clear day,
The cold is crisp,
This morning’s taste is all hard apple,
The crunch of boots on the ground.
Take heart,
The days ahead will bend not break,
We have survived these times before,
Fought this hate before,
We will live to laugh again
Even if in folly.
Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 8:27 PM UTC