"recuperating" poems
Spry, wry, and gray as these March sticks,
Percy bows, in his blue peajacket, among the narcissi.
He is recuperating from something on the lung.
The narcissi, too, are bowing to some big thing :
It rattles their stars on the green hill where Percy
Nurses the hardship of his stitches, and walks and walks.
There is a dignity to this; there is a formality --
The flowers vivid as bandages, and the man mending.
They bow and stand : they suffer such attacks!
And the octogenarian loves the little flocks.
He is quite blue; the terrible wind tries his breathing.
The narcissi look up like children, quickly and whitely.
6.6k
*Let your heart drown in tears
To cleanse away the wound
From it shall spring eternal fountain
Of inspirations, to open your heart
To Love, Hope, and inspiration
Muses will come to drink from it
And poetry shall flow through you
Every particle of you enamored
By the sweet water, flows eternally
Replenish the soul and turn the tide
To delve deeper in to self-belief
And, embrace knowledge to fight a stormy world
Poetry is the panacea for a recuperating soul
For there is the eternal fountain to drink from*
© Amitav (Radiance)
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 11:22 PM UTC
Once upon a thyme
In an herbed house
Their lived a witch
Whose ripe rampion
Was so overpowering
That the neighbors
Left bottles of febreeze
On her doorstep.
The witch didn’t care
- But
In the flat-ironed town
Of Lunch time lipo
Where you were defined
By your eating disorder
She looked like
An Omish escapee
*With hips that wriggled
And ******* that jiggled*
So her cell phone number
Wasn’t in anyone’s top five
-Except
For one confused neighbor
Who never made it to college
And got to experiment
Like a true Gemini.
Now imagine the witch’s surprise
When this neighbor confides
That she would love to eat
Her ripe rampion.
- Naturally
The witch agreed.
It was nice to have something
That somebody else wanted
Though it was exhausting
For the neighbor
Who munched day and night.
And if one surprise
Wasn’t enough
The witch discovered that her
Neighbor was pregnant.
Now the witch had many powers
But that wasn’t one of them.
It appeared that her neighbor
Found her husbands
Carrot patch to
Quite esculent also.
And the witch
Being a picky Virgo
With a jealous Scorpion moon
Thought that her neighbor
Should not
Have spun around the vegetable
Color wheel quite so fast
And so in a fit of temper
She stole her baby
And locked her away
In an ivory tower.
Initially everything worked out
Until the oil crisis
And then the witch couldn’t
Visit Rapunzel quite as often
As she would have liked
Not with gasoline
Being so expensive
And so Rapunzel became bored
And started chatting to
Prince charming
On her face-book wall.
The witch took all the hopeful Trojans
That the prince had left
On previous visits
And tied them together
To form a rubbery step ladder
And when she heard him shout
"Rapunzel, Rapunzel…let down your hair!"
She threw this at him…angling it
With just a little thread of hate.
Prince charming grew all shivery
And put on his worst
Austin powers "Oh behave" accent
*Thinking of the delights
That awaited him*
However, his shivery-ness
Soon became a full body tremor
When the witch met him
On the top rung
And he knew quick enough
This wasn’t a
Ménage à trois.
The prince spent many months
In traction
Recuperating from his fall.
Rapunzel was sent off
To boarding school.
And as for the witch…
She dropped twenty pounds
And got her own reality show
Housewives of Salem county.
Feb 4, 2017
Feb 4, 2017 at 11:21 PM UTC
Hie Yamaha Wegman ****** voyager, voted vonage valuable, unrepentant TIME Magazine subscriber. Spotify sportsman Snapchat smartly. Sleuth slenderman silences Shutterfly schvitzing. Saxby sassy Santander sais sage rues rudimentary router rotorooter.
Royale Rococco rigged remarkably regular referee reefers red reddit reeder recuperating. Reconnaissance recluse really rabid. QVC quotient quoting, quo quoi quivering quite quirky. Quisling quipped. Quintuplets quintessentially quiet. Quids Quicken questions.
Quartermaster qualified quaint quaffing quadrilateral Pythons. Pyrex pylons put purdy purposeful puny punsters punching. Pumpkin pumice publicized prudential protean pros properly pronouncing prolific prodigies.
Proletariats professors' problematic. Pro privileges prioritized. Principle primates prevaricate. Preppy pregnant, praying prattler possibly Porgie. Poseidon pooping poodle ponders poppycock. Plum? Polite poison pods ply pitiful pinterest.
Pinhead Pillsbury pillager Pi. Pigskin pierce petsmart pests permanently. Perdition percolates peppered PennState pedigreed PearlJam Patagonian. Pastor pastes passion passably. Papas' paginated orbitz okayed. Nutty node needs money.
Next netzero nee naugahyde. Nattering nationwide nabob Moxie Molly McGee. Monosodium livingsocial joyus je kickstarter. Identityguard Huffington GMO. Gluten Glutamate footloose fancy free footlocker. Fingerhut fetishistic fabrication Cingular.
Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 9:47 PM UTC
Trauma Center
Smoke
Liquid on the ground
My head spinning
"Are you ok", I hear her asking
"I'm an EMT"
I hear a male say
"Hold on don't close your eyes, help is coming"
Then what appeared to be the longest wait reaches an end
I hear a man almost ripping out the door from my new red car (doesn't matter it's just a car)
Finally with a neck brace and on a stretcher
Flashing lights and sirens screaming
It hit me
I can't move and my abdomen feels like I got punched a million times
I can feel someone cutting through my pants
My knees where bleeding
"Where your pants torn before the impact?"
" no," I answer
How? I was just driving
"We're here"
Push, push
Hurry, hurry
I feel all, ALL of my clothes being cut off
Tests and more tests
I'm just thankful I'm alive!
------------------------------//////::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
The Things we take for granted
I used to breathe without having to think about it
Now I slowly inhale waiting for the pain that follows
I used to get up...in seconds I'd be on my feet
Now the pain is excruciating
I need support to pull myself up
Getting into bed is another eternal task
But thankful to God that I'm still here
And working on recuperating
Please wear your seat belt it saved my life
Pray for me
* the lady that came to my help... she sat next to me, prayed for me as we waited for the paramedics-- her name was Lina! like me:) coincidence? I think not
Jan 19, 2017
Jan 19, 2017 at 1:28 AM UTC
When the shadows overtake me
I hope my throat is already slit.
/MERCY.
I've learned by now
That fast and painless
Is a concept of fiction.
It wouldn't matter
If you were to tear out my heart
Or rip out my spine,
It's all death just the same.
If you choose to take my life,
Don't take mercy into consideration,
Because mercy has been long lost
On those already rotting
In the graves dug in their minds.
/CONSUMPTION.
Peace from the darkness
Has taken the shape
Of your hand on the goblet,
With all my absolution taking the form
Of your loving embrace.
Let's build up our legions,
Show them the light in our gospel,
And convert them to our truth...
Such a beautiful proposition,
If we could work it out ourselves.
Wash over me with your holy sermon.
Let me absorb all your light.
Reconstruct all my arrogance
Upon the backs of the broken,
Just for the rare opportunity
For such a picture perfect landscape.
Monarchy never looked so stunning.
/EMPIRE.
Drowning is becoming an art.
Deeper and deeper
Into the depths do I venture,
All the while indifferent
To my lack of oxygen.
I'm plugging in plot holes.
I'm re-founding Byzantium,
And all for the iconography
That has left me
In such a state of marvel.
I don't want compromise
Or pity of any sort.
I just want you in tidal waves,
And to get pulled deeper
Beneath the whole of your personality.
In a modern world
So short on imperialism
Why was it so easy for you
To colonize my heart?
/TRANSLATION.
For the first time in years,
I need no translation.
I speak clearly, openly,
And without filtration.
She both listens and hears,
And that's not even the beginning
Of her infinite positive traits.
She's a modern masterpiece,
So above modern art.
I want to dissolve into her brilliance
If for even a moment.
/RECOIL.
I have nothing to fear.
I am the God of Death...
I am the shadows
That haunt even the deepest corners
Of my recuperating mind.
I'm gaining back the strength
To show the world once more,
That there are better, truer
Forms of evil in our control.
I am the culmination
Of the lives I have taken,
And now I choose to never
Be frightened by fate again.
I am the God of Death,
And now I choose to live.
Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 11:54 PM UTC
...and I was running,
out of breath,
out of time,
nearly dead
my footsteps in perfect sync
with racing beats of my heart
His panting
amplified
over my
shortness of air
within reach, one attempt
to halt me in full stride
I **** left
into an ally
that I was sure
had two ways out
a near miss yet determined
to harvest from his prey
There were
cans dodged,
tramps hurtled
on every hasty turn
then a dead end, I slow
recuperating to inhale
“Was it left,
left then right?
Right, left
then right?”
As I turned to race once more
but, darkness had caught up
His breath
on me familiar
as I couldn’t
catch my own
and to no avail I struggled
growing limp in my attempts
I was his
for feeding,
subtly anguished
yet captivated
as he softly laid me back
exposing all that he was after
Madness rushes
through me
as his fangs
perforated lust
a cool hand neath my neck
draws me closer rhythmically
I’ve lost all strength
though want
to whisper
as he carries me away
“Please, do with me what you will.”
And I fade.
Jun 13, 2010
Jun 13, 2010 at 6:51 PM UTC
takes about half an hour,
recuperating from
a night of drinking up to 5am...
hmm...
the playlist...
but just about two songs
inject a motivation into me...
Springsteen's born in the u.s.a.
and Megadeath's *symphony
of destruction*...
and so the next day... begins...
with either of these two,
ushers.
p.s. ok ok...
concessions...
fine young cannibals'
she drives me crazy
and Billy Joel's
we didn't start the fire...
perfect *******
props for an impromptu
of jumping out of bed.
Oct 29, 2018
Oct 29, 2018 at 10:33 AM UTC
... for not being on site as much as I probably should be. Some of you may know I have been going through some very difficult times. I do not write about these to elicit sympathy. I only want understanding and compassion. Thank you for reading this entire post.
My father was recuperating well, but it's now flagging in his resolve to live. He has almost entirely lost his hearing. He's losing his eyesight. And now he cannot talk. He had to have a trach put in because his vocal cords were frozen and he couldn't breathe. He requires 24-hour care. He cannot return to the high-functioning home where he was staying before. He will now have to go into a nursing home.
It is very hard to witness this. He is a survivor of the battle of Okinawa. He is a survivor of stage 3 throat cancer. Chemotherapy and radiation treatment at the age of 85. He is now 92. I just don't know if he can survive this. I just need to remember he lived a long rich life.
The biggest problem I'm having is that I know my father is not prepared for eternity. He refuses to even discuss the concept of God. He's always been an Atheist. He is a chemist. A scientist. And he was hurt very badly by religion when he was growing up. I have sown seeds, though. Perhaps the Lord will come to him in a dream or vision. I just don't know...
No matter what happens I am prepared. It is just very difficult, and I cannot concentrate very well. Also I and spending a lot more time in my spiritual practices, so please forgive me if I'm not on the site as much as I could be. It does not mean I don't love you... there are people that are on this site who I pray for on a daily basis. I blanket this site with prayer. There are some who might not believe in the power of this, but I have seen miracles happen right here on this site. A young man was cured of malaria just a couple of weeks ago. Prayer is the most loving and powerful thing anyone can do for another person.
I DO IT FOR YOU ALL.
Thank you for reading.
♡ Catherine
Jul 25, 2017
Jul 25, 2017 at 4:31 AM UTC
Standing with her head low and shoulders slouched,
centered in open field of dying foliage, she stood alone in the pouring rain.
She held a bright yellow flower that nestled so gently in between her slender fingers.
Overcast skies, fill the atmosphere with grey and white towering columns of fluffy moisture.
Blue skies peek at out as the clouds mutate and morph moving along with the winds taking on new forms at every breeze.
Sun rays shoot through the an opening where the clouds part, beaming down below to the golden fields of hill, grass,
and the occasional tree; giving life supporting energy for only a few seconds until it quickly
gets covered by the onslaught of clouds. Shinning on her pale fleshfor that second
she felt the life providing sun permeate on her cold wet skin with warmth.
Rain still trickling down upon her face and flower close to decay,
the light reluctantly giving her the energy to lift her head with prowess.
She fixates her eyes deep out into the hilltops and the skies above,
where the light shed through; steadily recuperating from her desolate outlook before.
Noticing wonders and the rare beauty of her location, that she had given no mind to before.
Managing to reveal a smile she once held behind the clouds, forgetting completely that she was ever alone to begin.
Jul 18, 2011
Jul 18, 2011 at 11:00 PM UTC
Hello you
Yesterday I had an epiphany about what you do
You have spoken about the hero-status of the uniform
And the depravity beneath it
However
However
The work, the career of rescue and disaster relief, whether from heaven or hell
Is heroic
I have saved lives
Battling uteri that would send the mother out the same door through which the infant just came
Wading through the sea of clotted blood
To find the flaccid muscle to hold death at bay
Have pumped hearts that lie quivering
Slapped and pumped infants with the fixed dilated pupil
And no matter the role we play in that
No matter
How tired it kills us
And how we find rejuvenation
It is heroic work
Even when we cannot bear the role any more
I have been recuperating from that job since you have known me
And I want to say I had forgotten the price.
And that you continue to pay the price of hero-work
The real price
Aug 4, 2010
Aug 4, 2010 at 7:00 PM UTC
I want you, no lie
Just not now
Not right now
Can't handle your madcap adventures
I'm still recuperating
Because I think your love broke my heart
Nov 26, 2010
Nov 26, 2010 at 4:19 PM UTC
Someday I’ll paint a mural.
I’ll paint it on one of the walls in my room.
It will consist of your favorite colors,
Your favorite things,
Everything that adds up to you.
I’ll let it dry, I’ll let it show.
I’ll look at it at night when
The vibrant colors begin to glow.
And when I finally build up the courage,
When I get past the days that seem to drag on,
I’ll stand on my own two feet and.
I’ll break down that ******* wall.
I’ll even take a picture of the ruins,
Just for your eyes to see,
That the damage I did to the wall,
Was nothing compared to the
Damage you did to me.
Feb 11, 2011
Feb 11, 2011 at 2:39 PM UTC
have you ever wanted something
something not for your eyes
something of beautiful tears
something of beautiful lies
something that envisions the seas
and encompasses the skies
have you ever wanted something
something you cant touch with your hand
something out of your reach
a vision that will soon come to an end
something that you need
something that has only your heart to mend
have you ever wanted something
something that you would put before your heart
something that symbolizes a new beginning]
something that symbolizes a new start
something that symbolizes a that missing piece
something that symbolizes a that lost part
have you ever wanted something so bad
lying
fighting
breaking the law
hurting
killing
taking no moral manner at all
realizing
seeing
what is your worst flaw
apologizing
crying
feeling bad enough to crawl
recuperating
regathering
standing back up tall
knowing
learning
what is the law
respecting
loving
only one and all
waving
saying
bye to your worst flaw
have you ever wanted something
something that you never reached
something you realized you dont really need
something that you would willingly help
and give air to breathe
but helping yourself
to continue to live and be free
Mar 14, 2010
Mar 14, 2010 at 12:36 PM UTC
I am a helping arm at the ready, a friend that you can open up to; a shoulder you can lean on.
But please, my heart held in deep affection asks that you only be fair.
Settled mind tripping, no longer can I differentiate between compositions for the distinguished, and for the many. No longer I attempt, for pain lingers, waiting to pounce on me.
Please, as the lady my heart first throbbed for, don't leave my recuperating soul more perplexed as it already is.
My Lois Lane. My Maria.
It is only my heart's desire that you be loved... even if it has to come from someone else.
Dec 11, 2015
Dec 11, 2015 at 1:05 AM UTC
I have a heartless soul
It all came together when you turned on me so cold
Gave you everything I had, everything I have you, you stole
I've finished recuperating from the pain
However the past is a history lesson
I learnt I'll never be the same
Anger you see through my eyes
My heart burnt
I was tied in the sky
You were a stain that wouldn't wash off
Love I gave you was despised
Stabbed me in the back
You cut through my heart
Gave me a heart attack
Came back to make sure you finished the job all the way through
My best I tried
I was tied in the sky.......
Left me all alone at night
Destroyed me
You became a vandal
Left me without preamble
Wasn't capable to occupy the state of being all alone in my mind
It was my life
But my cloudy eyes cleared up
My hands untied
And I realized
Theres Millons of others
You're just one......
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 6:56 AM UTC
For some designers, fabric is the starting point of their collections. For others, it’s their initial sketches. But for Edda Gimnes, it’s neither. Or actually both.
The Norwegian born, London College of Fashion graduate begins by creating graphic drawings executed with her left hand though she is right-handed, and which possibly adds to their naïve charm. Blown up across canvas or reworked in fur, these drawings, inspired by an eclectic collection of found vintage photographs and objects, animate her living fashion cutouts. While this approach earned her more trouble than praise as a student, it has now paid off, earning her the 2016 Designer for Tomorrow title, sponsored by German specialty store chain Peek & Cloppenburg and its online shop Fashion ID, and this year under the patronship of Alber Elbaz.
Although Elbaz, who is recuperating from pneumonia, was not allowed by his doctors to fly to Berlin for the June 30 DFT show held during Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week Berlin, he was nonetheless most perceptibly present. Jury members all remarked how his hand — and his eye — could be felt in the cull of the first 15 finalists. Filmed the night before the show in Paris, his video welcome to the five finalists and the audience couldn’t have been more personal.
Watching the live-stream of the show, and together with the eight member jury board choosing the winner, Elbaz said he saw a lot of potential in Gimnes. “She captured my imagination and I’m keen to find out how her talent will evolve,” he said. The young creative will soon be meeting Elbaz in person, a trip to Paris to meet the designer the next step in the one-year sponsorship program.
Design competitions, like wine, have their good years and bad years, and this year’s DFT crop was especially strong. The other finalists included David Kälble, whose cross-cultural South African-inspired collection mixed fur trims and cable tie fringes; Elisa Kley’s ultra linear compositions; Marc Morris Mok’s geometry in motion (and Sponge Bob footwear) ideas, and Ancuta Sarca’s plasticized fashion wardrobe.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/long-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses
Jul 5, 2016
Jul 5, 2016 at 2:27 AM UTC
**Here comes another night
to pause and end the day,
Dedicate the deeds to almighty, surrender right away!
Lucky you are to be alive,
to everybody, be grateful!
Everything is a blessing,
to nature, be thankful!
Dissolve in the darkness of
recuperating, regenerating night,
followed by reviving energizing
restart of another day bright..
Through another dreamy night,
to be with you to glide,
Call upon the angels
and your spiritual guide!!!**
Aug 20, 2017
Aug 20, 2017 at 2:17 PM UTC
Grim! Grim!!
My heart felt a heavy grudge
Portraying a mean beastly Face
With my dimmed eyes wishing darkness
As I rolled relentlessly
Then I ask myself
Was "tick tick" the problem
Or last night joyful frustration
Although last night
I was ****** and drunk
Over a wasteful time spent
Smoldering over a lustful path
I wished to be a lovely realm
Struggling with this unfortunate outcome
That is hovering a fruitful new day
Borne of a cloudless smile
Of a worn-out fellow
That needs a head on.
Mama call always gets the magic
As if it was a mirrored moment.
The recuperating strength in her voice
Bleached my insanity
That would have devour me.
With a smiley outlook
Staring at the crowd of being
Projecting a mixed feelings
Full of love, peace and inspiration
Woken by a precious momma.
Dec 14, 2018
Dec 14, 2018 at 8:50 AM UTC
I experienced love in the form of a disease
Which didn't felt too bad
When it was incubating
But then it slowly spread as an epidemic
Throughout my being
In the form of unkept promises
Contradictory actions
Weightless and later vile words
Lack of concrete commitments
Reluctance to compromise
Monstrous ego
Blighted dreams
Which wrecked havoc with my emotions
And caused terrible mental agony
While amplified carnal lust seared my body
And imparted a lasting soreness to it
I may not have succumbed to this disease
But I'm still recuperating and recovering
It has slayed my strength and desire to love again
Just a morass of tear Inducing memories
Is all I'm left with
May 26, 2018
May 26, 2018 at 3:53 PM UTC
A rose poem
A walking cobbler came to Yasmin valley
That had a small brook with swimming ducks
Even though since everyone wore clogs
He decided to settle down in this pleasant vale
The cobbler was educated in Frankfurt and
As we know the Germans are astute workers.
Recuperating after hitting his knee on a boulder
On a bed of Yasmin, he reclined and fed by maidens
Some inhabitants came to him with clogs as a gift
Exponentially happy he cried and was a happy man.
Nov 13, 2019
Nov 13, 2019 at 6:41 AM UTC
Sweat is produced by reason,
To achieve that point of results.
After strenuous miles on the obstacle course,
Fatigue stabs the nerves without remorse.
The body is bombarded by pain,
As cramps represent a threat to success.
Running with ambition on the track,
Risking safety by pride for the ultimate glory.
Self-discipline and good health will produce goals,
As recuperating on the sidelines can produce better outcomes.
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 7:45 AM UTC
Disclosed just enough,
that I recognize I will never
have closure.
Stillness under blanket;
while frantic thought sparks fire,
marching toward the center
of sensation, like taste and
memory.
Even as the firestorm subsides,
there seems one ember
found purpose.
A wick the end of candlewax
transformed to life,
past ear canals and sight lines.
One light in an exponentially
growing darkness;
no shadows to speak of, or through.
No!
This light is for voyeurs
perverse enough in theory
to hypothetically pose quandaries
as to why, "...that light still
flickers and glows."
Head motionless on pillow;
a congregating group of bodies
assemble themselves upon rolling
bluffs, conjured by trips
yet materialized.
They murmur to each other,
their own perfect language.
You'd think the noise would ruin
this delicate silence, but it's
quite the opposite.
Their soft utterances act as
a breezes finger tip, touching
new resolve into the leaves
decorating the tree of life;
rustling ever so gently,
each one individually so the
branch doesn't move. That
would be far too much commotion,
and the wise owl needs not
a feather ruffled.
Just the leaves;
whisking a few away,
they never fall, they never stay.
Just fly along the currents
of your breath;
all this movement in rhythm
with a vehicle still recuperating.
The corners of the mouth pull
upwards, towards the tops of
ears, nostrils flare as if the
body is there,
but isn't it?
An emancipated feather moves
vociferously across glass tops,
making not an imprint,
but instead playing the tune of love,
joy, and prosperity.
In a library full of picture books,
and worn tennis shoes that lay beneath
monikers which are announcing timelines,
and referencing emotions;
the feather feverishly scribbles,
but not a word is written.
The doors swing open,
the light punctures the tranquility,
the ****** is being ripped away
watching as everything drops,
now simply motionless.
This is what it was like when
we used to sleep.
Mar 6, 2019
Mar 6, 2019 at 5:24 PM UTC