"recollects" poems
Horrid and morbid, bitter, glittered and littered memories! Automotives, adaptive captives, movies, motives, Natives, locomotives, obsessive and possessive. Some awesome, brilliant, different, ignorant, persistent and resilient. ****** and exotic! Some memories are eccentric, fantastic, futuristic, magic, logistic, optimistic,
plastic, realistic, tragic or sadistic. Some random sizes with hidden prizes! Blameful, gainful, lameful and painful. Dreary destinies, diaries, inquires, weary rivalries, stories and theories in memory.
In theory, memories made from cheers and fears, jeers and tears!
Of amends, amens, omens, gems, hymns and stems. Memories
abbreviated and dedicated, deviated and medicated! Memories cased,
edited and erased. Evangelically, eventually everyone inherits! They’re like tiny merits! They spike the psych. They strike and are unlike. Memories of bites, defects, dislikes, effects, fights, flights, insects, logics, neglects, objects, plight, projects, protests, recollects, reflects
rejects, respects and suspects. Memories of fate and hate! Some are not great. Memories of schemes, screams or themes of dreams that seem. Memories of small, memories of tall! Memories in despise, memories
of lies. Memories of wise; beyond the skies, as I close my eyes…
Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 9:40 PM UTC
To behold the daybreak!
-Walt Whitman, Song of Myself from Leaves of Grass
In days like this one,
when rain drops so light
& everything dips
into weeping grey
my sanity longs for memories.
My sanity longs
like impulsive recalling
of plummeting sadness
in greying day
sashaying mournful recollects
from sunrise to daybreak.
Remembering vanishes
in the joyful marrow of life.
There, forgetting lives.
Tell me the last time
bliss comforts your soul.
It is a transient tick
too stiff to evoke.
What about the last time
pain feigns your saneness.
Memories turned into bullets
slitting shrapnel
warping into my soul.
Happiness lasts for a second.
Sadness, a lifetime.
Tell me how to get rid
the hurting clout of ache
existing as a blunt fragment
benign yet reminisced.
Daybreak pours so hard
and my sanity like a waning light
crawls back in a miasmatic cave
along the river known
to be a home of a witch
& her cursing narrative
of throwing silver saucers
making her a spotless shadow
through vestal times
never again a thriving spirit.
Forget Blake. Forget Whitman.
Only in daybreak
where everything
churns into life,
my sanity shrinking back
collapsing
into surreal gaps.
Here & there,
my sanity longs for memories.
Dec 9, 2016
Dec 9, 2016 at 10:31 PM UTC
She sloughs off her skin,
stepping out with heavy
feet to let her
coffin fall around her
piece by silk pale piece.
Raw and bleeding,
the water encases her in
a liquid embrace, as
calm as a mother's arms
as quiet as death at midnight.
Naked and alone
the water turning red with
truth and thoughts held
close, she washes away the
weighted thoughts of a future unknown.
What life she must lead,
to hide behind closed doors, locked
against the eyes of those
she so sweetly calls
her dearest friends.
But soon she is clean of filth
and doubt and steps out
into the gleaming lights of reality,
facing again the impeccable
glass of imperfection and truth.
She denies the facts and
slowly recovers, recollects
the pieces of a lie
formed through years
of trying to belong to others.
And slowly, like a geisha,
she paints on a face strange
and familiar, her practiced
hands trembling slightly,
the first crack in a porcelain mask.
It is then she stops,
caught on a stray thought
that has crept from the depths
of reddened water, the realization
that the geisha died long ago.
Jul 18, 2012
Jul 18, 2012 at 3:54 PM UTC
1735
One crown that no one seeks
And yet the highest head
Its isolation coveted
Its stigma deified
While Pontius Pilate lives
In whatsoever hell
That coronation pierces him
He recollects it well.
3.1k
The lowly amber circles attune
on the savanna grass of Serengeti
as the glow penetrates our tent
where the hungry hyenas nudge
At the dawn of four thirty
when dew recollects on the green
and the lioness pawn are grounded
at the lawn where we once laid
You are possessive and protective
rejective and a handsome danger
hypnotized by spells of the acacia trees
dancing under the thousand stars
As I unlearn the memoirs of the past
within the decorative adventures
where the world was ours to hold
in shades of deep blue and reds
Float baby, stow on the highways
where we changed to hues of black
with beautiful stacked memories
in the wild chasing the leopards
Flow baby, stroll on the railways
where we felt a million tunes
tracking hunts and ******* rants
cautious of the predatory play
Fight baby, sew the sutured heart
where once a love was a lullaby
at the drop of the Kilimanjaro
unfreed from all the carry-ons
Jan 30, 2017
Jan 30, 2017 at 3:48 PM UTC
Her voice
is softer
than the
moon, her
countenance
is that of a
fragile
symphony,
soaring
in her violin
song,
she is the
paralian
who lies
upon the
shore
and lets
the emerald
become her
dress and hair,
In the night
ocean, she
hears the
vague
waves of
memories
moving as
light in the
revolving
lanterns of
her mind,
the rose of
time opens,
she recollects
of how she was
the hidden petals
of the library,
delicate in the
secrecy of her,
beyond the old
books, within
her eyes, where
he saw the layers
of her rose
unfold before
the pages
she turned,
it was magical,
he thought,
of how the
small things,
the sea flower
of her secret
garden,
was once
revealed
to none,
realized
only by
the one
who saw
with the
heart,
the clouds
became
words
unsung
in the gentle
glass silk
caressing
her fair hands,
she mused
upon where
to begin and
end, as she,
the wanderer,
returned from
her dreams,
she closed
her eyes,
through
time,
jazz,
space
and
healing,
the loner
awakens
in the shore
and sails,
holding
the stars
In her coffee
& a vintage
camera,
and it
echoed
to her,
what she
once said
to her lover,
the gentle of
how they
floated as
petals
above the
lotus
ponds,
in the
touching
of hands
and the
secret
she held
in the rose,
I will invite
you to hear
it’s whisper,
“to love is to be
as the water,
to the silver
song, you
will return.”
Jul 2, 2019
Jul 2, 2019 at 3:47 PM UTC
it's the third month without you and
we haven't spoken since that last night we spent together.
I am beginning to numb myself with alcohol;
trying to forget the pain you have caused me.
you took a piece of me that will never
be fully mended without your love.
I don't want you back, I just want to have what you took from me.
My hands are cold and my heart is still broken.
I can't think full thoughts about you
without
going
crazy.
You appear in my dreams more often than not.
I dream of the day when you caress my hair
and hold my hand. When you speak to
me with your voice like music
and your thoughts like poems.
I dream of a future that
parallels the past;
that recollects your love and showers it on me.
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 12:27 AM UTC
defective, with every ancient deceit
a terbaulant calm within me rages
and I leap from a great hight
into a shallow abyss
where lurk the stains you cannot see
that creep in this petty place
where the speech of those who speak
lays open like a drawer of stained knives
and a stone terrain of thought
recollects the gestures made
where a confrontation with
a corresponding fictionalization
places one in an unquantifiable location
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 8:24 AM UTC
Glamorously she walked out of the bedroom
****** feet on the cold wood ****** floor
She looked through the window;
The window which faces nowhere
In her silent look;
She soliloquized 99 questions, but no one heard
Idea captured her imagination; lightening speed
She is enchanted by his silky voice and craftiness
A face for her he invented
Behind it she died, prayed, lived and died
She wore it so graceful
When she died no one knew she had died twice
Though she is dead, she still lives
Though she is dead, she still speaks
A face with feet walking on eerie Elm Street
Browsing through dark alleys in search for a new client
He is a romantic ******
Silently, he has killed all his prey with one shot
A cut through shot to the heart
Fairest daughter of the King;
Arouse not thy love until it so desires
He is too good to be ignored at first sight
She is struggling to control herself
He came here because of her
She is thinking it’s her moment
The voice in her heart; too loud
She can hardly hear her own voice
Shhhhh…
A silence
A flashback
She recollects mom last words on her dead bed
Out of her purse; a portrait picture she pulled
A perfect image of mom’s assailant is on the dance floor
A walk away to the exit door which leads to destiny; eternity
She was not ashamed losing momentary fame
The long silent walk through the side walk;
A victory lap to the podium for a gold medallion
Copyright 2014:GOG|McDaniels Gyamfi
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 11:47 AM UTC
Wise and wistful Njal perched pleasantly in the heart of Iceland
Vengeance victory and voluptuous vial veined through Flosi Njal as innocent as an infant
His demeanor held neither mediocrity nor morals but rather an emotion enthralled ego
Cooled cinders clog Flosi's heart to a stone To unfurl the expression in an utmost barbaric action
He recollects ways to reclaim rotten ridden revenge pondering upon which way will win
In one breath of fiery hell Flosi embarked his plan a sheepish grin gambled graciously on his hard face
The house engulfed in silk flames of scarlet the blood curdling cries of children never ceased
Onyx hazes of smoke of smoke danced on the top of the roof taunting the flames to devour more
Flosi's eyes excitedly enlightened in excitement his perilous plan appeared promising
He laughed lively at the feat the hysterical hollers of children was suddnely muted
Several silent minutes passed spirits of ashes resurrected from the charred house
The air was stale sparse dull life clinged to hold its existence
Bleached black bones held close to each other in a cluster combusted cloth clothed the cluster
Two tiny tinged skeletons lay in heavy heaps almost as if they were holding hands
But no longer did the embrace last no longer did the home host habitability
This sadistic outcome shed no tears for Flosi he enjoyed the revolting wrath of revenge ever so
He shadowed over the remains of bones and timber boastfully bubbling blissfully in excitement
kicking the bones like dry dirt Flosi continued to walk around the ash ridden land
His leather boots crisping in the hot coals his callused hands thrusting in the air expressing victory
He beaconed a shrill of success tears trembling down his face
Flosi has won revenge has ridden him once more
May 22, 2011
May 22, 2011 at 7:37 AM UTC
Behind tears of
Indifference
My pride is aching.
My heart is sinking.
My soul stopped singing.
Lost between
Reasons to stay
And reasons to plead,
I find myself buried beneath
Excuses
And apologies
Weighing more than my worth.
While words I can’t speak
Swallow me whole,
The only thing that I can do
Is wait.
My head recollects pain
Old and new,
But it all traces back to you.
I wonder which is hurting more.
My tongue
Or my heart?
And that’s something
To everyone
But you.
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 3:01 AM UTC
On rugged cliffs, where the sea beats,
He stands in deep contemplation,
A rare sanctuary, from human feet.
Everywhere, the majesty of creation.
Mother nature honours him with,
The most glorious front row seat.
Below a fuzzy peach and orange sky,
The sun glows, its last embers heat.
Elephantine rocks stand proud and tall,
It was such a beautiful spot to die,
The dark emerald waters rise and fall,
As he recollects the devastating lie.
His thoughts tumbling like the crashing sea,
He knows that he has to be strong,
When words are whispered ever so gently
“It is here where you belong.”
He looked around for the voices source,
Saw nothing in his sight,
How dare this voice stray him off his course,
Whilst acknowledging the words were right.
He stood for just a while longer,
His mind now calming like the sea,
So what if I heard that stupid lie,
It will not be the breaking of me.
Because he was made of atoms that formed,
The sky and the rocks and the sea, and
He learned that life was just a beautiful game,
Where he and nature were meant to be.
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 5:00 AM UTC
Lately it feels wrong to write,
It feels like there’s not enough time
For what I’m trying to do,
For what I’m trying to say,
I feel trapped in a room
That recollects memories
Like a homeless man
Collects pennies and dimes
And blesses the people who
Give it to him.
Instead I get summer rains,
Days passing by,
A roof over my head,
And maybe, just maybe,
I’ll get blessed with a wonderful day
Where nothing matters,
Not even the rain,
Nor these invasive thoughts
That go knocking at my door.
I open the door to say hi,
They always lead with smiles
And open arms,
This time they tell me to let my car deform itself around a tree,
To hug it and never let it go.
But it’s one of those days I don’t care
About what they say,
So they left leaving a little pamphlet behind.
Aug 17, 2021
Aug 17, 2021 at 12:32 AM UTC
Rogues, and their fractal minions
Break up my beam, my light
I never mind
As long as it recollects and swells
I play, crack the sky.
It really sings in the middle,
There with my two eyes
And they enter the hall of heaven,
One lie.
Oh, I never mind. I never mind
I can only look forward--
I'll never die.
I followed the codex,
Detached from myself
But needing a victory,
I caved in
And fell.
Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 1:21 AM UTC
As tough as ice she might appears, but still carries a melting heart of snow,
the softer side of this warrior Princess is still left for the world to know;
She carries an attitude that may pierce the heart of many suitors,
& for those who are judgmental her words come as battle *******
Few Casanovas might have survived the attacks of her coquetry and grace,
for others are still lying unconscious deeply wounded in Hurt’s Embrace;
Although it seems she has evolved as a sagacious damsel, all set for a ****
still her humility, servitude and feminine art is hidden under a veil;
Her care for the family n kins is exemplary filled with concerns,
& her stand for protecting them is like sunlight shining on golden ferns;
At times she recollects the sweet memories that r close to her heart,
as maturity replaced d sugar-pie of her innocence with a lemon ****
Although she dresses and dallies like a grown up duchess of shire,
deep inside she’s a still kid longing for a rostrum in this world’s mire;
Her prayers to the lordships are never tinged with selfish material needs,
instead, she beseech only forgiveness & strength for enduring righteous deeds;
We wish her all happiness and warmth she deserves in her life,
may the lord showers her with his choicest blessings that too rife;
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 1:53 AM UTC
(2017)
A word is almost I can't write,
It deliberates the wrath
That recollects my childhood
And departure is got!
Did I lost such beauty
Or this delusive phase,
I truly need my vision, —
To prove hypothesis!
E.
Feb 21, 2018
Feb 21, 2018 at 6:39 AM UTC
Dark place, dark room.
Mindless thoughts, overwhelmed her.
She tries to escape, to get rid of it.
It's an endless maze, one after the other.
She rocks back and forth,
To find solace in the moment
She whispers 'It will all be okay'
Honestly, when will it be?
Surrounded by a lot of people,
Chattering and laughters resonates the halls
She joins in with the crowds,
But that is just it, she joins but she felt far, she falls.
How is it possible to be lonely in a place filled with a lot of people?
She felt pain in her whenever she forced herself to smile
She kept telling her friend 'I wanna get out of here'
But that friend could only offer words of comfort through text as she suffer.
It was the time she recollects her dark past that made her like this,
She kept seeing everything in dark red lights,
A burden, on everyone around her, mind fights
So she kept quiet, putting a happy mask first.
2 weeks gone by, 3 weeks gone by.
Eventually it became a month.
She kept hoping her dark thought fly,
For now, she cast a bright front.
- ponder
May 24, 2018
May 24, 2018 at 1:38 AM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
Like the little things in life that you the person need
To figure out,
Walking on a dream in tiny specs of recollects of
Buying cookies from these girls scouts,
I was like a red Corvette coupe ready to be smashed
Along with words,
Imagining the day I get away and fly high like these
Little aero birds,
Just make me happy like you do in any situation that
Occurred,
Like corrupted files , your mind is in a loop of being in
A cathedral Church,
The world's in ruins but you're worried all about the price of
Half off t-shirts,
Romance Couldn't get anymore stupider in every seasons
Pass,
I would like to think I'm starting not to care and worry about
Some ***
You could write a lot to these 1 minute and something something
Second songs,
People love manipulating me and getting off by telling me I'm
Wrong,
Make me happy......Make me happy......make me happy.
Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 11:40 AM UTC
A ship, a pale storm in the mighty winds became so green as hue
Ancients of spirits saw the windswept spirit as bold...but new
Lo, then dirt and malice rises above through the deep dark blue
Ravages the splinterered vector off the safety of comfort it once knew
Threw the ship ill forgotten,
rummaging through deep waters of inertia begotten
As he recollects debris one managed to saunter to
As to what sticks to the shoe
Alas for 38 years was true!
And the 39th...
Nov 1, 2019
Nov 1, 2019 at 4:52 PM UTC
a patch of morning sun
yellow never recollects
the white remembrance
Dec 26, 2018
Dec 26, 2018 at 6:48 PM UTC