"rareness" poems
You said you would **** it this morning.
Do not **** it. It startles me still,
The jut of that odd, dark head, pacing
Through the uncut grass on the elm's hill.
It is something to own a pheasant,
Or just to be visited at all.
I am not mystical: it isn't
As if I thought it had a spirit.
It is simply in its element.
That gives it a kingliness, a right.
The print of its big foot last winter,
The trail-track, on the snow in our court
The wonder of it, in that pallor,
Through crosshatch of sparrow and starling.
Is it its rareness, then? It is rare.
But a dozen would be worth having,
A hundred, on that hill-green and red,
Crossing and recrossing: a fine thing!
It is such a good shape, so vivid.
It's a little cornucopia.
It unclaps, brown as a leaf, and loud,
Settles in the elm, and is easy.
It was sunning in the narcissi.
I trespass stupidly. Let be, let be.
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Yet, my pretty sportive friend,
Little is’t to such an end
That I praise thy rareness!
Other dogs may be thy peers
Haply in these drooping ears,
And this glossy fairness.
But of thee it shall be said,
This dog watched beside a bed
Day and night unweary—
Watched within a curtained room,
Where no sunbeam brake the gloom
Round the sick and dreary.
Roses, gathered for a vase,
In that chamber died apace,
Beam and breeze resigning.
This dog only, waited on,
Knowing that when light is gone
Love remains for shining.
Other dogs in thymy dew
Tracked the hares, and followed through
Sunny moor or meadow.
This dog only, crept and crept
Next a languid cheek that slept,
Sharing in the shadow.
Other dogs of loyal cheer
Bounded at the whistle clear,
Up the woodside hieing.
This dog only, watched in reach
Of a faintly uttered speech,
Or a louder sighing.
And if one or two quick tears
Dropped upon his glossy ears,
Or a sigh came double—
Up he sprang in eager haste,
Fawning, fondling, breathing fast,
In a tender trouble.
And this dog was satisfied
If a pale thin hand would glide
Down his dewlaps sloping—
Which he pushed his nose within,
After—platforming his chin
On the palm left open.
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I
I have lived with Shades so long,
So long have talked to them,
I sped to street and throng,
That sometimes they
In their dim style
Will pause awhile
To hear my say;
II
And take me by the hand,
And lead me through their rooms
In the To-Be, where Dooms
Half-wove and shapeless stand:
And show from there
The dwindled dust
And rot and rust
Of things that were.
III
“Now turn,” they said to me
One day: “Look whence we came,
And signify his name
Who gazes thence at thee”—
—”Nor name nor race
Know I, or can,”
I said, “Of man
So commonplace.”
IV
“He moves me not at all:
I note no ray or jot
Of rareness in his lot,
Or star exceptional.
Into the dim
Dead throngs around
He’ll sink, nor sound
Be left of him.”
V
“Yet,” said they, “his frail speech,
Hath accents pitched like thine—
Thy mould and his define
A likeness each to each—
But go! Deep pain
Alas, would be
His name to thee,
And told in vain!”
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*This sunrise is very beautiful
With a hue of pink and a rareness which
Befits the weariness of red eyes
As slowly over the Catskills she
Rises and resides
Until she can be seen within the sky
Pure as almond and ivory
Backed by the dawn and the day alike
Who am I to stand here in her way?
Who am I to say that she shouldn’t try?
I can only trust and occasionally wish
That she would honor me with a simple kiss
Of morning dew, and a smile wide
For that, in this, my morning eyes
Would bring great joy to me in my life*
Mar 4, 2017
Mar 4, 2017 at 2:25 AM UTC
Temporarily content
for once the tears have subsided
Though eventually my mind goes back
to being hopelessly misguided
Involuntarily thrown
into a dark pit of despair
A broken smile and a broken spirit
that I seem unable to repair
A strong keen intellect hidden
behind a melancholy haze
Vibrant, sparkling, engaging eyes
become a blank vacant gaze
Running from the suffocation
it finally caught up to me
Darkness swarming in my mind
now every bad thought ***** with me
The rareness of my tears set in
and everything goes black
I'm in my own gloomy bubble
where depression slowly attacks
Now all that seems to be left of myself is a
foggy obscure apparition
An empty shell of nothingness
who is losing all ambition
Depression, Anxiety, insomnia and more...
it seems I've made a custom combination
I'm a fuzzy headed ****** up mess
I've concluded through my observation
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 5:14 PM UTC
I have always discerned not only my pieces
But all prose
As art
Literary, amorphous, atmospheric art
My reason being the way we consume and admire it
Paintings and sculptures are admired by the eyes
Put on display to observe
Music
By the ears
Played loud or quietly to feel its effects
Culinary
By the mouth
To share and reward
But only prose is absorbed through the soul and our consciousness
There are no novels painted onto sides of buildings
Or poems playing from car speakers
Prose requires a deeper awareness to appreciate
And the rareness of that depth is what causes me to feel this way about it
The inspiration that concieves my pieces are birthed during spiritual acmes of various dispositions
My style is more prose-like than poetic
And intertwines elements regarding the Universe, spirituality, Buddhism, and Mother Earth
All that I compose is felt as the flesh of my soul
Although I have been writing for as long as I can recall
It wasn't until the age of 15 that I began composing complete solid pieces of prose
Though it hasn't been very many years since then
I have witnessed my eloquence emanate fairly quickly and beautifully
Translating my soul into language is the core of what I do
It is a challenge at times
Others
A breeze
I hope to compile my pieces into something tangible some day
Releasing my auric energies into the world for everyone who pleases to read and feel from me
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 6:23 PM UTC
Silence
In a room full of people I can't be heard
It's rare that I can captivate attention
Just drowned out by my lack of interest
I enter a room and you are unphased
Quick to rush to the next subject
I am not important enough
Whereas once you'd carry me
Told me I was rare
Now you have so much power my rareness is unimportant
Unphased
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 10:47 AM UTC
Follows his heart
Over his mind!
Over his sanity,
Layers ideas insane.
Illusion of his brain
Solace to his rareness
Hard pulled, Hard fooled
In the dark days
No one ever said
Your'e a different head
One of the heads
Unusual,
Rare, but
Still a head!
Humty dumpty
Eats the same
And against all odds
Dies the same!
Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 6:14 AM UTC
If he knew
That I had dyed my hair
He would say,
I like it
It looks good
But why would you ruin your rareness
Your red hair is so pretty
And I would say,
I felt like a change;
In moments of passion
He would still call me beautiful
And I would really smile
And if things were normal
His looks of hatred
Would be looks of longing
And possibly love;
My demands for change
Wouldn't start with him
Because they wouldn't exist at all
Jul 13, 2016
Jul 13, 2016 at 11:15 PM UTC
bear with me, a man was going house to house. a big handed hunch of a man. he was wanting to know if anyone in the immediate area had seen the bird he was talking about. his enthusiasm was off-putting and in the back of my mind downright scary. the look on a face when a door is opened is often the look of one to whom the lord has reappeared. I don’t think the man knew he was ruining the rareness of the day’s clarity. the bird itself was not his fault and the bird sighting could’ve happened to another. on a normal day a suspended woman sings above us. there is a before and an after and a bit of mystery to the meal obsessed.
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 7:26 PM UTC
Her softness
under the slight touch offered
creates such serenity
within me
The jewels within her eyes
gleam so bright
so sure of her beauty
and the rareness of her love
Her assuring smiles
and playful gazes
move my hands over her
most intimate places
My soul devours her
sudden sweet gasps
my lips hunger
for the breath she takes
my spirit is restless
for the love she makes
9/4/2000
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 11:05 AM UTC
He throws me off balance
With his **** *** splashiness
Ardent adventurous lips
So biteable and lickable
So kissable and treasurable
My smooth chocolate-brown jack
So beardtastic and mantastic
So fantastically bedazzling and enrapturing
Strapping and thrashing rareness
Immeasurable ****** attraction
I wanna kiss his broad, jaw-dropping chest
Nuzzle his walnut brown bullets
Feel his magically shimmering eyes
Pierce through the world of my queerness
Make me so gung-ho about
His rich, appealing deliciousness
My ample flavorful Samson
He tickles my taste buds
Makes me feel like I might erupt
With if he constantly touches
My buttery brown skin
He has me under the heel
Of his highly heavenly and stupefying exquisiteness
Stranded in his extremely effective
And impressive web of hot-off-the-press finesse
Locked in his intensely strong wings
He keeps my head spinning
Has me mad jacked up
Lusting after his rugged hot stuff
I love the savagely fierce and magnificent beast in him
The way he stares at me makes me wanna jump
Into his massive wondrous ocean
Of unending dreamy passion
Capture me, ravish me, lavish me
With his incredibly poetic and powerful love
Unleash his continuous and mysterious thunder upon me
Strike me with his wild white lightning
Arouse me with the incomparable swagger
In his aggressive freshalicious masculineness
His clever and creative mind
His smooth, slick, and vigorous style
I fall deep into his authentic prolific realm
Of rigidly riveting enchantment
So attached to his dramatic and mystical fantasticalness
My undauntable phenomenal lover man
I am so hooked on his untouchable hustle and muscle
The way his heart and soul glow
His awesomeness, flawlessness, and suaveness
I am so into everything about him
I don’t wanna live without him
I need to feel him all over me
Forever and a day, I crave to stay in his captivating embrace
Apr 19, 2023
Apr 19, 2023 at 2:43 PM UTC