"refractory" poems
Its in these waters, when I was merely a Parr
Or as you might refer to me as a fry,
This wise but young Brook Trout cruised the slow water with my kinfolk fry.
Moving to and fro hiding among the biome vegetation
The sunlight supported my living space and warmed my growth rings.
I dart in and out of the oxygenated seams which help me flourish.
Some days, I had to use stealth to outwit the pine marten and warblers,
I shadowed the cattail and watched them fill their bellies with those around me.
But I felt fate had a purpose for me to be something special.
And When the time was right, I'd propel myself above the water into the night air.
The large circle of orange light filled my eyes and the night sky was filled with luminary.
I imagined what it must be like to live outside this riffle domain.
This morning, through my refractory vision I spot some floating objects,
And through an inherited sensory recall I can see these are hatching green Drakes.
I immediately shoot to the surface and fill my stomach, then swim back to the undercut for cover.
As the years pass by and maturity abounds, I find my self settling in behind a large boulder
Right at the tail out of the back eddy, providing me with an ample food supply.
And it's here I prefer to live my life in the slow current, content and peaceful.
And one day as I swam into the current seam, I spotted what appeared to be,
A different looking bug with yellow belly, so I make my move.
He's not moving much so I decide to raise my head above the water line and sip.
As I grab the hopper I start to slide back behind the boulder,
When I feel a pinch, as if someone try's to pull me towards the surface
I fight with all my might but this force proves to be stronger than I.
It's now I realize a human reels me towards the shore line, and I'm fearful.
This one called a human, grabs my tail and places his hand on my under belly.
Pulling me from my home, he dislodges the hook from my mouth. I gasp for oxygen.
He looks me over from nose to tail, smiles and says how beautiful I am.
He looks me in the eye And says " This was a wonderful fight my friend, enjoy the rest of your life,
He places me back in water, gently reviving me and finally lets me swim away.
I dare to turn and look back at him for a moment and as he continues to watch me,
I hear him say " I fish, knowing everyday on this stream is a gift."
Feb 7, 2017
Feb 7, 2017 at 3:59 PM UTC
A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.
And the camels galled, sorefooted, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
and running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages ***** and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.
Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arriving at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you might say) satisfactory.
All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.
Jun 13, 2016
Jun 13, 2016 at 11:31 AM UTC
‘A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.’
And the camels galled, sore-footed,
refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the
terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and
grumbling
And running away, and wanting their
liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the
lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns
unfriendly
And the villages ***** and charging high
prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all
night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears,
saying
That this was all folly.
Then at dawn we came down to a
temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of
vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill
beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped in
away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with
vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for
pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
But there was no imformation, and so
we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment
too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say)
satisfactory.
All this was a long time ago, I
remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth,
certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had
seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different;
this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like
Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these
Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old
dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their
gods.
I should be glad of another death.
2.9k
Be like a metal (Fe), strong and firm
Most are malleable, and brittle are some
Be like a metal (Cu), conduct and shine
Share your happiness and make the world fine
Be like a metal (Au), precious and rare
Save Mother Nature with utmost care
Be like a metal (steel), free from rust
Preventing global warming is a must
Be like a metal, with Solid, liquid and gaseous states
Ignore prejudice (Caste, Creed, Race) and make good mates
Be like a metal, with sonorous and refractory properties
Spread the music of love and curb hatred qualities
Be like a metal, heavy (Pb) and light (Al)
Always be united and never indulge in fight
Jul 24, 2017
Jul 24, 2017 at 5:20 AM UTC
Crystallised syllables.
Words fall from harsh tainted lips,
like a syllable of crystallised black,
Caressed at the touch of fingertips,
encouragement seems to lack.
A heart of steel encased within,
the shattered depicted glass,
I pray that you forgive my sin,
End this forever song fast.
Your life is plainly satisfactory,
demeaning in all you do,
waterfalls of crimson refractory
broken, diminished, by you.
Wicked and nocturnal eyes,
return your weary gaze,
reflections hard to visualise,
incentives gone for days.
Leave emotion to drown itself,
in this scarlet river abyss,
place your feelings on the shelf,
and give me one last kiss…
Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 8:31 AM UTC
this dawn has no sun... it has an eye.
it is nothing but dreams and a risen Christ.
the long beyond behind me, is the avalanche... the tremors
in a golden misery. a blunder on glass stilts.
this dawn has to step outside -
to have a mirror. it has to bake the clay
that made a man.... into
an iron wisp.
it has to occur to God
to have your entropy be a deep kiss.
to obliterate the schedule of planned events
and substitute the void for the real fear.
is has to occur to Us
to have no reality other than this.
to celebrate the anvil of cartoon antics
and most refuse the void
with the mind clear.
' bout a train don't come.... been always here....
sinking into the ravines of your cabbages
and sulking in the mulch
of some soiling ambrosia.
a cure for Krackens in your refractory-
stammering the diphthong
of an adjacent
howl.
but not quite an amethyst
at rush hour
but a diamond in
the hush.
a black diamond
within us.
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 7:28 PM UTC
here's to a la mort of a love that can never be,
a outrance of feelings that never got to be expressed.
i hate that my heart is so refractory,
how can i be in love with someone i know nothing about?
never seen you yet somehow i've seen you,
never spoken to you yet i've had numerous conversations about you..
i want to enodate my thoughts onto the canvas that is your heart,
but how can i?
you're probably in love with a lightskin beauty,
but is there any room for a caramel skinned Queen?
or will i be too much of a challenge,
too much of something too brilliant?
my feelings for you are pygalgia,
please darling allow me the chance
to search your soul & find the most unappealing things,
but love you anyway...
you're soul is too ostrobogulous for a quean,
may my being coruscate in the very darkest place of your heart.
til you realize your soul's worth,
til you realize yupukta my love.
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 3:46 PM UTC
There is he, who cannot rest,
In clover, nor in wisps of clouds;
Churning, malaise of soul’s request,
Until such soul has spoken loud.
In voices, tongues of foreign feature,
Ones he cannot hope to reign;
Accepts, within, this lonesome creature,
Such dormancy had lain.
Whet upon his palate clean,
The tastes of time surrendered,
In nibbles, wincing, soured preen,
His anguish berths distended.
Whether love or longing pine,
The sweet of either remarks,
Plain of wrapper, tan-hemp twine,
Arrive in light or dark.
Sequestered to his inner mind,
As permeating thoughts infuse
Lessons, mem’ries—some unkind,
Too precious then, to lose.
Coffers rich in frames of past,
Display, enigmatic posing;
A filling reference of faces dashed,
Betrayal: scant exposing.
Inhaling then, the moment caustic,
With innocence feigned, unguarded,
Ingesting free the poison’s lick,
For peace he will then barter.
Release in silent ecstasy,
As his soul retracts to heal,
Birthing words refractory,
In life, such visions feel.
Remorse breeds times exhumed,
As contentment lapses hinder;
Chants thwart the breaths consumed,
Residual morsels linger.
The cryptic frets the untouched stone,
Before the sense dissolves,
In corners, there, he weeps alone,
And clings to his resolve.
There is he, who cannot rest,
In clover, nor in wisps of clouds;
Churning, malaise of soul’s request,
Until such soul has spoken loud.
In voices, tongues of foreign feature,
Ones he cannot hope to reign;
Accepts, within, this lonesome creature,
Such dormancy had lain.
Apr 30, 2010
Apr 30, 2010 at 9:47 AM UTC
No force of nature, no divination of the corners
Nor the tea leaves, spread out loosely
Conveying chaos in their spiral form
Nor your heart line, dipping down deeply
Into the territory of water, selfish and wandering
Nor your telling Capricorn birth
Ruled by rigid grounding, your father the earth
Nor the eight of swords, repeated in every reading
Blindfolded and reaching forward
None of these can deter the velocity of my falling
Towards the pull of your body's gravity, refractory
Freed from any other want or need than the divination of your sheets
I'm puppet on a string, held low above your lust's steady flame
Leaning down low, dipping my toes into your karmic fire
Transported to a future drenched in the color of your gaze
Regardless of hexed hematite or rabbits foot
Lost sight of all pink candle and rosehip, all mundane and esoteric
My soul is yours, to save or spend sordidly
To toss into the shallow waters of the fountain of fate
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 11:20 PM UTC
Every morning plays over like a silent black-and-white film.
You wake up and somehow you’ve forgotten how to speak.
Your throat feels raw and congested from the disuse of night.
The sunlight strikes your eyelids,
affecting an obliterating blindness,
forcing them apart,
drawing you from the velvety embrace of a dream.
Your feet sink into dirt-smudged sneakers;
they drag across tiles and floors and grains of cement,
across blackened splotches of gum tacked to the streets,
pressing them ever deeper into earth,
into tar.
A young woman in a fitted red pea coat stands near you,
leaning against the steel column by the edge of the tracks.
She is tiny,
her olive skin stretches tight across her bulging cheekbones,
her eyes are pools of grey,
her shoulder-length hair is the color of molasses.
It happens slowly:
the woman in the red pea coat leans further over the ledge,
tilting her head to the side,
searching for life in the roaring darkness.
It happens briefly:
a low rumble beneath your feet,
a glint of light,
a yellow-white rectangle splays across the tracks.
It widens and expands,
oppressing you,
swallowing the woman in the red pea coat,
as she looks up and stares back at the brightness.
The train does not strike her –
it consumes her,
it ***** her up like a vacuum through its sharp metal teeth,
and she vanishes,
or she becomes a refractory beam of light,
or she explodes.
A screech hovers above the crowd,
shrill, high and clear – the rawness of terror.
You cannot help it – you peer into the gap
between the platform and the subway,
absorbing the darkness.
You wonder what moment, precisely,
her life left her body,
or her flailing limbs surrendered to their inevitable consumption.
The paper bag she had been carrying survives,
strayed on the platform,
an afterthought.
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 8:39 PM UTC
Depression is reading bad poetry
Written by merely dysthymic people
Depression is people which does result in
Hell
Depression is the pain caused by people
Trying, poorly I might add, to articulate what
'Depression means to me'
Depression is tantamount to hunger
Something we all must suffer
Some will starve to death
You, my poetaster chum
Are only late to dinner
The pang will pass
Copyright © 1996-Present
May 14, 2011
May 14, 2011 at 8:21 PM UTC
trying bad knew day think fight feeling know annoying lying time months tell like sure observe afternoon participant folds pass iron ask realization neck conversation pain poetaster tuesdays busy night lung sake sickness movies gets body reason turns incessantly awakens doesnt ones lifes gnashing try despondency
way pretentious idea cellulite strewn years fallen finally given stomach qualify spectacle necessary watching christ harbinger unconsciously thing girl loose walls unbearable start reach smile needing violent mean slowly engage engaging cell face sung struggle tone shes song cheaply correct contents normally quickly asleep close plea dark personality overly devour actions viscera completely eating list attractive liar power does figured use morning suffer
saving shadowscasting abdomen leave verse sun comfort screaming stay lift forcing worthwhile sleep reciting sets written broken semismiled dysthmically movingriding supp uses help pieces poorly lied reading blunt fine returned groups refractory fiber eyes read word puts say absorb force detach message unnoticed died block clock wish possibly late aghast fear return chum caused daily involve thanks grandmotherly hope unheeded twice starve maya enthusiasm heard hunger comfortableness homeostasis
nauseousness huxtable inflected angelous angelou itll dissipating impress giving lower relent articulate poetry doldrums wise left alot hate cheeks entirety perceived result willing mild speaking concedepretend skin alive shell death tantamount everytime ripping afloat worth adamisdronicus succession press hang jeanpaul speak dysthmic means dinner dreams sobriety bones repeatedly *** pang bc painted reallythat
May 16, 2010
May 16, 2010 at 10:28 PM UTC
Depression is reading bad poetry
Written by merely dysthymic people
Depression is people which does result in
Hell
Depression is the pain caused by people
Trying, poorly I might add, to articulate what
'Depression means to me'
Depression is tantamount to hunger
Something we all must suffer
Some will starve to death
You, my poetaster chum
Are only late to dinner
The pang will pass
Apr 27, 2010
Apr 27, 2010 at 6:22 PM UTC
i closed up
and from the minute you kept me company i felt stardust on my skin but it was so cold and i feel so cold and i can't help but shake
i see cars crashing and i see shadows twitching with fear and with vice
and the energy that radiates from every living thing pierces my wellbeing
constantly
pervasively
i do understand when i say i understand, unfortunately
and i've understood much more than any human stricken with bliss has ever even acknowledged
shields can be beautiful things if you know how to use them
but alas i do not and i still end up getting hit
if there is an end then why am i still falling into this abyss even after everyone else has gotten out
i never caught up to the wonders of an uncluttered mind;
the only thing sound here is my ability to accept
i feel
i feel.
and that's the problem
emotions are purely transient things
and whether that should make me feel
sad
angry
happy
or
if i just shouldn't bother at all
no one wants to hear a thing you say unless they've heard it in their own heads before
and so i hold my breath as the air in the room is taken up by refractory lungs
maybe i shouldn't ask or maybe i shouldn't tell
but the unknown slices my skin with such ease when i feel it in your grip
i spilled my guts hoping you'd give me yours to fill me up again
all i am is chaos embodied in an empty cage of flesh and bone
and
i closed up
because all i am is an open book with a sad story that nobody ever wants to read again
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 6:18 PM UTC
The singular marble of energy, infinitely dense,
Elected to expand towards inexistent directions,
Creating space to unfold volatile carpets of navy
Blue time, on which to develop endless potential.
Light ignites for particles to amalgamate reflections,
Evolving energy into matter, for atoms to compose
Spinning molecules assembled, filled with purpose
Pulled by force, of gravity building fusing stars.
Refractory minerals travel unnoticed and afar,
Leaving home to shower dust on spheres aligned
Orbiting a sun, where ingredients perfectly meld
Hosting falling comets and chondrites, water in disguise.
Suddenly life.
As the marble now exceeds measurement possibilities,
Perpetrating its expansion, outdoing light speed limits,
It decides to visit itself and its creations through the eyes
Of a species with a mind. Consciousness rise.
From a remote planet lost in its meanders,
Inhabitants of Earth slowly challenge their perceptions,
Reflecting shadows of primitive light to comprehend
Their role in the marble game encompassing all.
Suddenly the Universe.
Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 4:53 AM UTC
Perfect stranger with a blinding light
Wicked danger blinding my insight
A hollow enigma in a shell of fright
and a passion magma I cannot hold inside
Architect of a mystery of irresistible blur
A refractory gravity, a vertiginous whirl
Some sort of gifted sorcery, a multidimensional puzzle
Tangled streams of poetry, a rhyme-shattering rebel
My uncharted horizon to dream about
What could be a reason to keep you out?
Will I need wings to carry you on my shoulders?
or will I require them to adapt to your soaring place?
Should i avoid to step out of my comfortable borders?
Or should I give in to a silhouette without a face?
~Epic Monkey
Oct 29, 2017
Oct 29, 2017 at 4:10 AM UTC
venus and mars shine in the dark night sky
I with my bare eyes caught a glimpse one day of a star shine;
I studied for years refractory sciences and lens technology
until I developed the focuses to approach you, so far so
beautiful so unapproachable, by the naked eye,
wrote a thesis on tracking the night skies,
won my prize, you. My beauty.
Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 12:45 AM UTC
a snooze
on anesthesia
though boastful
chunk of
elaboration and
lesson refractory
that omnipotent
was such
rapport with
edification I
lied and
over her
***** that
melded ours
in peals
of natures
finest planet
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 9:50 AM UTC
My internet has been all jacked up
Can only get on thirty seconds at a time
I'm about to the point where I am fed up
About to call and give a piece of my mind
I pay every month to get service around here
And lately it has been unsatisfactory
It has been so choppy and hasn't been clear
It's really been making my temper refractory
But maybe it has to do with the stormy weather
It has been raining around here the past few days
But I still wish that the connection would come together
I am really tired of the way this connection plays
Maybe it's a sign that I should take a break for awhile
And to step outside and breathe in the fresh air
It's been way too long and I have forgotten how to smile
If I wouldn't have shaved my head I'd be pulling out my hair
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 8:44 PM UTC