"raveling" poems
Along an unknown path
Distant from the place you call home
Voices summon you in the distance
Edging you to claim your destiny
New legends unfold and lessons learned while
Traveling to new lands
Under the strings of fate
Reach out to that light within and
Escape through your dreams to release your inner self
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 10:09 PM UTC
did not know her when she was miniskirts and high heels,
before she converted to the one true religion of
poetry & yoga
some stray dog thots raveling in a pack
cross the not-even-6am brain that alternates tween
new day Adam apple crumb crisp and
distracting lascivious Eve ones
I,
would have loved you same back then,
no different than now
I,
write in different styles
under so many pseudonyms,
but it is the same man
I,
who crawls into bed nightly with
great expectations and a list of salutations
to wake you up and commence writing how
I,
love your poetic yoga-toned long legs
snaking between mine
while I imagine them in miniskirts and high heels
which is a long way round of saying
You,
alone, my darling forever young one,
are my
one true religion...
Jul 3, 2017
Jul 3, 2017 at 12:03 PM UTC
Woke up
With my eyes stuck together
and my lips dry
and my body stiff
I rubbed my face
and my eyelids almost closing again
i walked upstairs and walked into my room
and clothes laying eveywhere
grabbed a big sweater and brought it over my head
and slipped my arms through
messed up my messy hair
and walked in to the bathroom
and looked myself in the mirror
my mustache reaching the top of my grey lips
and my stubble growing in slowly
walked out of the bathroom
left the light on
and into the kitchen
i yawned,it left me feeling weake
opened up the cuboards took out the coffee
walked over a basket with bread and took a slice
made the coffe and let it to boil
put the bread in the toaster and let it to toast
looked out my window
and the blue sky moving slowly
with the clouds fluttering along
the trees turned yellow
and the streets wet,for it rained
the toast popped out
and coffe was made
sat on the table
rubbed my face
the coffee steam raveling my nose
and my teeth ready to taste the crunsh of white toast
i thought about the day
and
smiled...
Oct 13, 2013
Oct 13, 2013 at 12:42 AM UTC
This is a place on the way after the distances
can no longer be kept straight here in this dark corner
of the barn a mound of wheels has convened along
raveling courses to stop in a single moment
and lie down as still as the chariots of the Pharaohs
some in pairs that rolled as one over the same roads
to the end and never touched each other until they
arrived here some that broke by themselves and were left
until they could be repaired some that went only
to occasions before my time and some that have spun
across other countries through uncounted summers
now they go all the way back together the tall
cobweb-hung models of galaxies in their rings
of rust leaning against the stone hail from Rene's
manure cart the year he wanted to store them here
because there was nobody left who could make them like that
in case he should need them and there are the carriage wheels
that Merot said would be worth a lot some day
and the rim of the spare from bald Bleret's green Samson
that rose like Borobudur out of the high grass
behind the old house by the river where he stuffed
mattresses in the morning sunlight and the hens
scavenged around his shoes in the days when the black
top-hat sedan still towered outside Sandeau's cow barn
with velvet upholstery and sconces for flowers and room
for two calves instead of the back seat when their time came
2.7k
A hot spring
In the midst of Brooklyn
She walked in
An empty basin
Porcelain!
Suddenly rained
The water moving
Rage!
No wind to sail
No sun glare
Raveling black fiber
Ravened the rain
Stabbing through
Skin!
Awakened millions
Thirsty pores
Two hands walk
Ten fingers
Doing push ups
From head to toes
Bubbly bubbles
A bouquet of cloud
Smells of utopia
Rinsing off!
The curtain opens
Crinkles
A middle aged woman
Leaped out
A naked trickling rain
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 9:30 PM UTC
Acquiesce here my love
Ameliorate my heart
The assemblage of circumstance provides dulcet ebullience
An efflorescent dalliance conflated into cathartic becoming
My bucolic bungalow made upon your callipygous
A young Life’s denouement
Your evocative elixir fetching
An erstwhile emollient embrocation
Your eloquent fingers find their way to frisson
My felicitous chatoyant gambols in glamor like a halcyon incipient made ineffable by the look of the ingénue
The labyrinthine inglenook lagoon leisurely lithe
The murmurous daffodils wink at the insouciance of your beauty
A panoply panacea, the half shadow complete as an epiphany
Quintessential to feminine riparian resplendence
Your mellifluous voice, an opulent offing, the sumptuous summery soliloquy of an angel
Cools my soul like the smell of earth after rain
Your propinquity ripples the scintilla of my spirit
Your surreptitious smile like a zephyr quietly whispers
Its redolent seraglio sempiternal in my thoughts
As skyward gazes like saccharine gossamer lilt with the knowledge of our raveling juxtaposition
a masterful pastiche, the cynosure of divine revelation
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 9:25 PM UTC
the world is a dryer.
if there is a washing machine section within our universe, I am unaware of it.
I don't work that rotation. I work the dry shift.
tumble low heat, fluff, repeat.
repeat.
in almost every dryer known to mankind, some contraption serves as the lint trap. collect all of the lint and excess laundry fluff as it goes through the dry cycle.
in this world, in this universe; if the human race consists of the articles of clothing in the dryer, I am the lint trap.
it sounds almost cutesy when phrased like that. dryer lint is fluffy and soft and the combination of all the different fibers of the various clothing.
I'm the trap, though. the filter.
I must absorb and filter the excess fiber from every article of clothing. if the entire human race is in this dry cycle; I absorb and filter their raveling ends.
it's ******* exhausting.
here's a better analogy. have you ever had your stomach pumped?
they handle this differently now, but when the doctors, nurses, and staff working in the ER would get a patient who swallowed an entire bottle of ****** with a ***** chaser; or a new mother's young son swallowing her bottle of sertaline, they would get to work. one hand activated charcoal, the other hand with a large suction tube.
activated charcoal is what neutralizes the bottle of ****** or the bottle of Zoloft. the charcoal can absorb **** near anything. it pulls out stains and poisons, neutralizing and absorbing.
this is where the tube comes in. the charcoal is harmless on its own, but the ER staff is in a hurry to console (get rid of) the screaming mother; to move the seventeen year old girl with the ****** ***** chaser to the psychiatric unit, and continue their night.
insert the long tube to suction the charcoal out of the stomachs of the two children. this is often haphazardly shoved down the back of the throat, down the esophagus, reaching the stomach. flip the switch, undo what peristalsis cannot. it's not pleasant. gagging, rough, foul, I've been told.
the body is working in reverse order. vomiting may be easier. the suction tube is fighting the natural flow of the body. the esophagus is attempting to push everything down down down, and the tube is fighting back.
I am the activated charcoal found in every ER across the globe. I absorb the poisons that human beings put into their bodies.
I can pass someone on the street, and my activated charcoal soul absorbs the negativity, the poison, the hatred, the emotional chaos from that individual.
I often wonder if the person feels lighter, noting the absence of the venom that once crippled them. I never ask. I just keep my gaze down and ignore the tempest ensnared within my activated charcoal lint trap.
there are others like me. activated charcoal hearts, lint trap souls.
Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 3:28 PM UTC
Everything spreads in an expanse.
Forms like candles feathered
flickering float in glassine tombs,
Sounds like those dip and sink at sea.
Silken carpet of clouds pulled,
numb stones and numb thorns,
pain from under my naked norms.
Chain breaks and rattle songs,
oh the horror of raveling knots, that
endings have humble beginnings.
Everything's same, but nights melt
and fans slow, flooding the days in
broken moons and shaken stars.
Solitary lamp in the damp room,
Everything spreads like ocean waves
from me in an expanse like this.
Sep 25, 2012
Sep 25, 2012 at 2:18 PM UTC
Under the radar
Someone's daughter
Avoid the mainstream
Dwell in the backwater
Leading the journey
My flirtatious folly
Reflects a sense of melancholy
Raveling in romantic malice
Mocking the norm
Arm in arm
Amor in a twisted mess
A soul to caress
An unspoken liaison
A nonexistent list of excuses
Explaining all of it's practical uses
Who knows where we'll be tomorrow
Some place to scoff in the face of sorrow
I speaking from experience
Stop asking
When I have no defense
I will dare
You wont
If you have any sense
Sep 8, 2010
Sep 8, 2010 at 6:06 PM UTC
I ran to keep from
UN-
raveling.
The soft bounce of my shoes on the pavement
was my way of pushing back when the world kept pressing its weight on me.
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 9:26 PM UTC
1
Water lilies remembered her
as one of them, lotus buds nodded, jealousy set thick in their eyes
her fingers were white lily buds
she balanced on the big, smooth, round
pebble stones, like a danseuse in an
under water ballet,you are buoyant here than anywhere,
as if you live a life after death
your bodies pale and water caressed, create an illusion of 'unliving'
2.
she tickled my skin-
goosebumps appeared allover
as small bubbles going up..up till they burst above water
I can't forget her first kiss , underwater
my lungs were filled with her feminine fragrance like smoke of cannabis
an experience that sizzled the water, never to forget
(even if she would never come back from the unfathomable love, water gives)
3
I was naked, she too, like a lily in bloom that was raveling in love
as if it was the last season we had
she was magic in body and soul
I peeped in to the limitless with her entangling me and at the end,
I saw halo around her pointed *******
that have become lotus buds.
I couldn't take my eyes off them
after the magical transformation.
The lake was totally out of the world
the mossy patch between her legs
had a fluorescent glow intermittent,
she was transforming every minute in to a form of water life, I understood.
like a fish, coral, moss or water plant
I , for my dismay remained as before; nothing was to be done about it,
like many of the things brought change in a person's life.
4.
Sun, in the voice of light
called us from above,
his pranks tickled her and me
like ghosts of dead women,
found their watery grave here,
we played with tortoises and frogs
made for us crowns with algae and water flowers.
5
A silvery snake, thin, with some intent
coiled around her narrow waist.
eyes in its sharp pointed head,
intently looked in to mine.
she was now a dolphin without fins
then, I received waves of clear foreboding
time to return to the shores, I tried to tell
but massive sheets of water ate my muffled words!
Swimming up a water column, she smiled that detached smile
already, she was a mermaid , I could see
I stammered"You..promised..
to come back..
we have promises to keep,
that we exchanged..."
Under water time runs in a way we can't understand
one becomes a flow, one with altered time..
she was just a glow in the depth when I saw her last.
O
Dec 7, 2011
Dec 7, 2011 at 1:33 PM UTC
The ravels in my sleeve of care
Grow longer every night-
Especially in the morning
When I struggle back to sleep
From waking up too early
Only to be bushwhacked
By brigades of unsolved problems,
Battalions of frustration
And whole Armies of defeatment
Marching out to meet me.
While you’re asleep your secret mind
Is solving all the puzzles
That unhinge the hours when you’re awake
And dodging slings and arrows.
That is the scholar’s promise.
That is what the con men say
In psychiatric clinics
Where they write the books
Explaining what it means to fly
And why we never land when falling.
Sleep refreshes and renews-
At least that is the theory.
It’s not supposed to wear you out
And beat you down while dreaming
Out the scripts you didn’t write.
When the raveling is complete
And both my sleeves have come undone
Will I dream of flowered fields
And happy times, successes and rewarding
Or will it end and I no longer dream at all.
ljm
Apr 9, 2017
Apr 9, 2017 at 1:37 AM UTC
I am the best.
I Am Not An Avatar
Aiming for immortality I am not,
Mortal I am happy and content.
Traveling I met with an accident,
Hoping to reach home I was,
Expecting the mishap not.
But I still fought my life back,
Except I have been surely fitter,
Still I have never been more alive,
The Angels of death were left craving.
Jan 24, 2018
Jan 24, 2018 at 12:53 AM UTC
The milky threads of calm, wound less neat
tighten their spread and tangled nets of heat
split seconds post an apocalyptic maelstrom
here rises the silence before the firestorm
furiously raveling strings of energy to a fiery knot
compressing all matter until it burns white and hot
molded and collapsing in its own gravity
the folding and re-folding of infinity
all universal light, crunched to but a single ray
explodes to birth the stars and break the day
an interstellar consummation of luminosity
until all is, yet at once, will cease to be.
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 4:16 PM UTC
The arrival of senselessness
Is a great shadow over the earth,
a cooling cloud in the summer
causation of looking up--
Gift-givers wander the slopes and with packets of thought,
They run their fingers along the stones and the trees and the fields
Grassy,
Following the trails of clouds wandering just as inconsequent
Leaving tears as rain on the steppes and letting them drain into the deathly floors
asking them to give the ability for new things to drink
This is the true Holy Water
And a patchwork soul seeks, fixated,
answers to the crackled nature of their vessel
Running into the same stone of them, cancerous
soon left to sands and dust
Ozymandias
The blades of leaves rattle a sad salute
Their ragged branches sheathed xylem, a perfect skyscraper design
Preventing edema of the like kind
Show to me that this place in not but the momentary awareness of light, a stopping point in the infinite variation
To locate oneself in the rapid raveling of everything into one great big
Sorrowful tear, running from the eternal blackness of the night
that holds noting but the absence of itself.
Jan 6, 2019
Jan 6, 2019 at 2:49 PM UTC
You can take it all away from me
Unknot the stress
Carefully pulling apart the ribbon
That binds the destruction.
And then you tie it back up
Twisting and furling
Raveling into a broiling stew
A turmoil of contradictions
And we are back where we started.
Nothing ever is solved,
just thrown off the axis
but gravity will always come back to haunt us
magnetic orbs of chaos
stability only ever a fragile illusion
patiently waiting to implode.
We will try and float on
For how much longer?
Jun 8, 2011
Jun 8, 2011 at 4:37 PM UTC
That ring is wearing you like hands on a steering wheel,
but darling,
who drives at 10-and-2 these days?
Try steering with just one hand,
or with your legs,
or with mine.
Because I'm exhausted by the sick, sweet smell of the garden after rain.
The fruit's only ripe until it isn't,
until it's rotten.
We were only tending a garden until we were tending a grave.
And you say that the more it rains the more it rainbows,
so stop thinking of rainbows as rainbows but as
light that doesn't stay together,
that's better off apart.
And if I'm ruining the rain for you, then please ruin something for me.
Strike me hard enough to dislodge us both.
Let the thunder fill the emptiness
that's filling us both.
And if the flood aims to drown us, let's not hold our breath.
Because with your hands on the wheel, you're just a passenger these days.
Because each night we go to bed hungry, and all you want is more silverware.
Because even when relieved of the dust we've gathered,
we're still no more alive than an album on the shelf.
Apr 10, 2011
Apr 10, 2011 at 6:04 PM UTC
Darling, you know what they say
Karma's a *****
Everything u say, everything u do will always come straight back to you.
All the things and all the words I've said to you, done to you came running straight back to me like a thrown boomerang. I've always said I'd never be that girl. Id never be that girl who's mind constantly always hovers around boys. I'd never be that girl who's constantly moving from table to table on crammed bars at 2 am like a morning vacation. I've always said I'd never be that girl who's tongue would be traveling from men's mouth,raveling,battling, teeth clashing.I've always said I'd never be that girl who'll drink her soul away over a boy who molds her into a clay that consistently tells her to do this and that, over a boy who constantly reminds her to wear that because she's fat, over a boy who tells her to say this and that. I've always said I'd never be that girl that'll ditch her friends, I've always said I'd never put anybody on the latter, I've always said I'd keep promises and give you what your heart desires. I've always said I'd be that friend that'll walk with you in the rain with no cover, I've always said I'd be that somebody that'll promise you I'd never be like the others. But the "others" became me. I became the product of every thing I never wanted to be. So here I am playing fire and gets burned after. Here I am dancing with the devil and complains why I'm in hell. Here I am oblivious to the consequences. I am the girl of everything I never wanted to be.
Mar 10, 2018
Mar 10, 2018 at 8:06 AM UTC
‘Why do you colour your lips so black,
Darken your piercing eyes,
What are you hiding behind your back,
Have you been telling me lies?
Why are you wearing those knee length boots,
Pulling that cloak round, tight,
Where are you going, under the Moon,
Where will you be tonight?
Christabel grimaced but wouldn’t reply,
She turned, with her hand on the door,
Gazing right through me, I’d thought that she knew me
But there was no love like before.
Her brows, they were furrowed, her eyes hard as glass,
Her lips they were pursed in contempt,
I should have left then when she’d put down the pen
But I didn’t know then what it meant.
I knew she was moody, I knew she was dark,
She’d flutter round blind, like a moth,
She always wore black, even out in the park,
They warned me, they said ‘She’s a Goth!’
I’d found her entrancing at first, I admit,
I tried to get into her mind,
But once in those raveling tunnels of darkness
The deepest of thoughts were unkind.
I picked up the note she left ******* on the floor
The moment she left for the night,
‘I have to see Jack,’ she had scribbled, ‘That’s that!’
I must put my nightmares to flight.’
I knew there was darkness and heartache to come,
She’d promised him plenty of strife,
But then I’d jumped in to his bucket of sin
As I thought she was out of his life.
I asked her at first was she over him yet,
And yes, she assured me she was,
But surely his name wouldn’t drive her insane
If it wasn’t a question of loss!
A terrible feeling came over me then,
I needed to know where she went,
So headed on out to where Jack hung about,
I shouldn’t have gone, I repent.
I saw through the window the angel of death
Her cloak streaming out, like a moth,
And he in the corner, not catching his breath
His throat in the grip of a Goth!
I tried to burst in but the door was deadlocked,
I saw the knife raised in her fist,
Then plunge, and a scream like some terrible dream,
For just as he died, she had kissed!
She came out toward me but covered in blood,
On hands, on her lips and her face,
While I backed away, I had nothing to say,
But,‘Heaven above, lend me grace!’
She ran away, stumbling, on through the dark
But she’d not seen her nightmares off,
I found she was hung on a light in the park,
In her mouth was a fluttering moth.
David Lewis Paget
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 12:00 AM UTC
Mortality is surprising as it should be.
That you should die is not implied by life
Or pain. There is a sweater hanging in his closet.
If one were to look closely at the
neck the thread begins un
raveling the
re. No one will
notice
she s
ai
d. But it is his sweater and he noticed.
But it is only a sweater and really no one will notice.
It isn't what they look for.
Dec 18, 2018
Dec 18, 2018 at 11:05 AM UTC
Unwinding, unraveling
Revelling in the intertwining,
Wood roots of winding, raveling
Wood unwinding, unraveling.
~
With it came
Wood rods and leaves, not understanding
Wanting to be together
Bound in understanding.
With purpose and movement of woodland wiring.
(Unwinding, and unraveling.)
~
Unwinding, unraveling
Back to the earth
Revelling in the intertwining
Wood roots of winding, raveling
Wood unwinding, unraveling.
~
Returned to the mother Queen
Mother Earth, of nature's dream
Woodland spirits sing to, and praise
To the wood Queen, Earth, they sing.
Jan 23, 2018
Jan 23, 2018 at 12:33 AM UTC
In the grass you lie and hear
everything twice as loud and double size as I do
in the grass you wait
patiently with your arms embracing your knees
and raveling stories in your head
in the trees you see much more
than any one of us could
and for hours you are not cold
as even the old ones leave for home now;
you sit -
and you sit in the grass
and remember god knows what
and i won't call you odd
for some day, i am sure, you'll outwit us all.
May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 8:26 PM UTC
I have fire and stars in my veins
oceans in my mind
sparkling and shimmering
reflecting the morning sun
Inside of me are whole worlds
But it takes time
For me to reveal this side of me
Pull me back
Layer by layer
and soon you will see
The light streaming through the cracks
The water streaming out to caress your feet
Please be patient with me
I am worth the effort
The raveling and unraveling of my soul
is a process
and if you stay long enough
You will see
Jun 21, 2018
Jun 21, 2018 at 9:10 PM UTC