"prostrates" poems
the leaden
wetness of an
October snowfall
cloaks branch
and bough
of woefully
laden
trees
the pressing
mass
a weighty
strain
prostrates
mighty
hardwoods
to autumns
cold ground
as a
truculent
Nor'Easter
claws its way
through
the uneasy
Mid-Atlantic
night,
the crash of
creaking
maples and
popping oaks
persistently
echo through
the black
woods of
this
trembling
evening
power flickers
perplexed grids
go down
extinguishing
the warmth of
suburban
house lights
the growing
aggregation
of crushing
pressure
on tensile
taxed
branches
snaps
the firmest
wood
an
incessant
barrage
of
thumps
and
dings
splatter
against
the
house
while the
shuddering
uncertainties
of frightened
children
rise
as each
limb
clatters
to
earth
our
cowering
bivouac
draws
the
incessant
fire
of a
harassing
fusillade
from
legions
of
invisible
snipers
as
swooping
gusts
threaten to
relieve more
arboreal
tension
praying
limbs
fail
to pierce
the safety
of thinly
tiled
roofs
our
abiding
hope
remains to
escape
the
next
random
blow
of fate
the
night of
falling trees
stirs our
sleepy
hamlet
from an
uneasy
midnight
slumber
10/29/11
Oakland
jbm
Nov 8, 2011
Nov 8, 2011 at 9:38 PM UTC
The man in his revelation prostrates
YOU in Your smiling sharpness
pin point colors of hope
Your soft pull of the inviting
sensitive showing
lining Yourself up
Your singular hidden
forever he thinks but blinded
Your fronted beauty
lips stun him
a whisper writhing
line of Your thighs hold
his decent
hell he chooses like an addict chooses the needle
slithering you devour him
a life ending trapped and swallowed.
KT Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 10:38 AM UTC
Four hobbits are to do one thing...
Two flex and look commited.
Two whine, while clinging to a ring
They have been tasked to yeet!
How many hobbits must it take
To dispossess a nay-lord?
Up to what Gendalf can't forsake
Due to increasing payload.
I have become a tyrant beyond limits!
Man prostrates, elvish people begs.
Alas, I have a mortal weakness.
Short people with absurdly hairy legs.
There's nothing in this world beyond my power,
There's nothing in my sight beyond my grip.
But **** this helmet that resembles static tower.
I cannot register the men below 5 feet.
If only I could tilt my head a little,
I could have spotted little rascals go!
I could have stayed forever ancient evil
Whilst having healthy posture over all!
Nov 23, 2024
Nov 23, 2024 at 12:59 PM UTC
Eternity is a road without end:
A circle without bend!
When dusts rises and returns to its composers-
Bodies fall done and defeated;
When breathes draws last and takes to its wonders-
Lungs decreases deserted and deflated;
When souls satisfied, sails and goes to be with their maker-
Essence escapes without its splendour to serve its eternity;
When spirits surrendered, prostrates before their creator-
Divinity summoned to defends its dignity;
The universe will be such a sullen space-
Such a devoid and dour sphere
Until again the earth is with a renewed face-
Pierced again with a lively spear
Of Perpetuity and Felicity!
© Kìùra Kabiri. All rights reserved.
Jan 31, 2017
Jan 31, 2017 at 4:34 AM UTC
My ceiling chirps
like faraway cicadas.
There is an oil-stained
smell of cold sink soup.
I hear laughter and
kisses of other lives.
My mind prostrates
at magnificence.
I lie my body beneath
a shield from the winter—
the Incomprehensible
comes humility.
Oct 24, 2023
Oct 24, 2023 at 4:00 AM UTC