"regains" poems
I go to the door often.
Night and summer. Crickets
lift their cries.
I know you are out.
You are driving
late through the summer night.
I do not know what will happen.
I have no claim on you.
I am one star
you have as guide; others
love you, the night
so dark over the Azores.
You have been working outdoors,
gone all week. I feel you
in this lamp lit
so late. As I reach for it
I feel myself
driving through the night.
I love a firmness in you
that disdains the trivial
and regains the difficult.
You become part then
of the firmness of night,
the granite holding up walls.
There were women in Egypt who
supported with their firmness the stars
as they revolved,
hardly aware
of the passage from night
to day and back to night.
I love you where you go
through the night, not swerving,
clear as the indigo
bunting in her flight,
passing over two
thousand miles of ocean.
11.1k
let me lay my palms
in that sunken space
between the contours of
your jawline and cheekbones.
let my fingers hide itself
within the secrets of
your jet black hair.
let me draw you close
and closer until
my face fits perfectly in the mold of yours.
it's alright to cry.
maybe your tears will wash the
doubts
hiding between your
lines and creases and the
fear
exuding from your pores.
let my eyes fathom
the depths of yours.
i am sure that hope and wonder
are just there sleeping beneath
and
until they awaken
and rise above the waters,
i will
look at you,
watch over you.
i will
embrace you
until your head
stills its throbbing,
until your skin
regains its glow and warmth
i will.
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 7:20 AM UTC
The temple bell
Silently calls my soul
Echoes, all over the deep forest
In prayers of silent lotus song
Temple
Waits
Buddha too
As the pond whispers
From the surface calm
Alone in the deep forest,
I am prostrate in devotion
And search
Before your shore's
Of love, life and living
Laboriously moving, in every steps of sigh,
Pregnant with leaves, roots and
Residual karmic earth
-Lotus pond in deep in thought-
Wondering why
The flowers have to wither and fall
Before fruits can burst forth; in living
Why love and loss results, only in the end,
An acceptance,
Cowering in depths of empty soul?
Why
Life regains calm,
Only, after
It has flowered through pain
And bonds?
Why
Lotus can only flower
After breaking through
-The sludge of senses,
In the depths of love
From the depths of pond
The laughing Buddha
Smiles
With laughter in His heart
Pond, all alone, in the darkness of night
Softly sighs
Goes back to living
On the temple’s Shore
Yet!
The silent Buddha
Is not so silent, you see
Just listen with laughter in your heart
The lotuses do sing
The beautiful life's love song
Dec 25, 2010
Dec 25, 2010 at 11:37 AM UTC
Once you learn misery,
That's it.
You can get worse,
But no one will notice,
Once you learn misery,
That's it.
Even the purest smile,
Never regains its shine,
You can get worse,
But no one will notice,
Once you learn misery,
That's it.
After even a drop,
Of those ebony tears,
Even the purest smile,
Never regains its shine,
You can get worse,
But no one will notice,
Once you learn misery,
That's it.
Nothing can return,
To its former shade,
After even a drop,
Of those ebony tears,
Even the purest smile,
Never regains its shine,
You can add more,
But no one will notice,
Once you learn misery,
That's it.
After the cold, brutal hands,
Of pain and death strike,
Nothing can return,
To its former shade,
After even a drop,
Of those ebony tears,
Even the purest smile,
Never regains its shine,
You can get worse,
But no one will notice,
Once you learn misery,
That's it.
There is no recovery,
Not for any soul,
After the cold, brutal hands,
Of pain and death strike,
Nothing can return,
To its former shade,
After even a drop,
Of those ebony tears,
Even the purest smile,
Never regains its shine,
You can get worse,
But no one will notice,
Once you learn misery,
That's it.
Once you learn misery,
There is but one escape,
There is no recovery,
Not for any soul,
After the cold, brutal hands,
Of pain and death strike,
Nothing can return,
To its former shade,
After even a drop,
Of those ebony tears,
Even the purest smile,
Never regains its shine,
You can get worse,
But no one will notice,
Once you learn misery,
That's it.
One escape: Love
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 12:36 PM UTC
Step by step a kite ascends to the sky
regains memory of transcendence
of once being the echo of a cloud
sailing speedily westwards.
the kite remembers another life
and strays far beyond it's distance permitted,
when the string rudely pulls it back,controls,
the young cloud, narcissistic
still keeps it's love for the echo, in swirling
wisps of vapor as gently caressing wet touch
The lone woman who suppresses deep inside her chest,
the tumultuous waves of love and passion,
imbuing the emotion sunset spews, suddenly breaks down
the startled sea breeze is the only witness to her outburst.
the sky slipping fast in to the gloom of darkness
stands frozen, silent, as if melting in the pain love causes,
when one bids final good bye to the beloved, vowed never to part.
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 12:14 PM UTC
the clouds hang over the mountains
the mist over the trees
and our huts are hidden in the moving fog
that stretches over our seclusion
most days;
on a good day when the sun
regains its strength
we see the mountains
and there is clarity in our hearts…
and so are our days spread
like the trees and mountain ranges
over this enduring earth
Dec 28, 2013
Dec 28, 2013 at 8:55 PM UTC
Running from a demented Ex,
Several kilometers to a lone cabin,
She travelled.
She was feeling comfortable
Although lonely in this forest world.
A glass of juice in hand,
She steps out on the porch.
Halting in shock,
For on the edge of the foot path,
Waits a big grey wolf,
With intense gaze fixed on her.
"Shoo!" She tells it.
But flinch, it doesn't.
Retreats into the cabin she does,
To bolt all windows and doors.
Soon, the wolf loses interest and leaves.
Come night, she undresses to bath.
But in her bedroom doorway,
Appears the grey wolf.
Caught in surprise, she gasps and falls.
And in her shock, she watches it
Morph into a man.
Not just any man, a breathtaking one.
She's hypnotized by the sight of him.
He approaches, carries her,
In his arms to the shower
Where he makes passionate love
To her against the wall.
His fangs sinking into her shoulder
In the ****** of the ****** passion,
Until after a mind-blowing ****** she blacks out into unconsciousness.
Several hours later,
Her consciousness she regains.
On her bed she wakes.
She remembers. But perhaps,
It was all a dream.
But the soiled paw-print on her rug,
And the aching pain on her shoulder
Revealed otherwise,
Until the distant howl of her new
Lover, reaches her from the forest,
Making her shudder with a new craving need to be made love to-
Again!
Oct 21, 2016
Oct 21, 2016 at 6:14 AM UTC
You're the cracks in my skin
the blood that I bleed.
You're the carbon dioxide
that I unleash
to stop you
from suffocating me.
You're the pounding in my skull,
the cartilage damage in my knees
slowly ripping life from me,
with no mercy
despite my pleas.
You're Satan's kiss
-- you're a personal death wish.
You are agony
But you're agony that I miss.
For when a blind man regains sight,
it's nothing short of bittersweet
-- a painless torture technique.
-lf-
Aug 11, 2013
Aug 11, 2013 at 9:38 PM UTC
Along a winding meadow way
Circuitous and pebble strewn
Towards a brook and down a slope
As morning sun outshines the moon
An expectation clogs the air
And all about the flowers turn
To face a wave of tidal light
To catch ablaze but not to burn
A dusky fragrance lingers still
And gathers calm as mercury
In solemn spots beneath the boughs
It lies in perpetuity
The weaving breeze is powerless
And banished by the canopy
Abiding there a myriad
Of all of natures panoply
Drift along now deeper still
A clearing basks amid the shade
An isolated paradise
A lonely little woodland glade
Where early spring regains the lead
And ferns uncurl a welcome hand
The nettles bare their jagged teeth
And offer up a reprimand
A dragonfly takes up my path
And leads me into humid heat
She weaves amid the reaching grass
And safely guides my straying feet
Between the rocks and rabbit holes
That litter my vicinity
The creatures in my path retreat
All sensing my proximity
A fallen trunk now blocks my course
Like driftwood on the shoreline, beached
Its peeling bark is spiraling
And pale in the sunlight, bleached
Enfolded in its limbs I am
As if they shaped themselves to me
As though a plan of ages hatched
And formed a place for me to be
**
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 9:02 PM UTC
It is not unusual that at some point in our lives we will have to deal with a tense encounter where words will be exchanged in an environment of anger with others. Usually there is one person who is in less control of himself and poses a greater risk to harm the other. How do you defuse the situation? How do you calm someone who is angry? First, talk with a low calm voice. Secondly, show them your white teeth (smile), if possible. And don't look them directly in the face. These three suggestions are predicated on the fact that they are all non-engaging and have a tendency to calm or reduce tension from the aggravated party.
It all starts by using the wrong words, or the right words interpreted the wrong way by the offended party. This escalates potentially becoming a provocation by someone who is incensed or upset over a matter. Angry words then usually follow. Depending on how you handle things, will determine whether you succeed to defuse the situation or not. And sometimes, just sometimes, friendship regains that upper hand. This is the best case scenario which everyone could only want.
I tried to capture all this with a short Haiku that now follows:
**a word, provoking
angry words are now exchanged
smiles come, peace remains**
As an interesting afterthought, a person once shared with me his unusual approach he himself uses to avoid getting angry. He told me whenever he feels that he is about to get angry he forces himself to laugh uncontrollably and loud that his anger not "take control of Him." He said it works. I am fortunately happy to tell you have never had a chance to test his system out.
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 4:05 PM UTC
What do you feel when you hear my voice?
Does your mind take you places?
When I hear your voice my soul lightens up,
That hope for living that once was lost
Regains it's strength and all lines are crossed.
Just want to be with you, and walk this earth by your side..
This love for you mi rey I will not hide.
Come walk with me to the end of our days,
The end of that mountain to reach the rays.
Anything is possible with you, you give me strength.
Long roads i'd walk no matter the length..
Sep 11, 2010
Sep 11, 2010 at 7:57 PM UTC
Surrounded by darkness
Death, despair and pain
Instruments of torture
Ways to make you hurt
And never think again
Then there’s a light
Something bright in the distance
Enclosed in a safe embrace
Darkness as unconsciousness ensues
Bringing him back into existence
Consciousness regains and he’s back into darkness
Scratching at the wooden surround
Nothing but a lighter to see
That he’s six foot under
And needs to get out of the ground
Fingertips beak the surface
Reaching up to the mid-morning sun
***** hands and a dirt face appear
He stands and looks around
The only thing missing is his gun
Making a trek to the nearest place
Shirt strapped firm around his hips
He finds a small shop
Grabs a bottle of water
Nicks a magazine and a bag of chips
A crash and a bang
Shattering glass
A sound so loud
He’s covering his ears
Thinking how long this will last
For an angel is calling
To his sisters and brothers
That Dean Winchester has been saved
The Righteous Man has been earthbound
Out to save the rest of the others.
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 5:18 PM UTC
The rhythm wakes up
Underneath the microscope
It regains all hope
The molecules dance
Never stopping the spirit
Provided by us
The dance floor is open
Looking for atoms split in half
Couples jive the runway
In a tiny world
The truth connects through tiptoes
Make every step count
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 7:44 AM UTC
Turn out the lights
catch the night’s bequest
Train your eyes on the horizon
sunrise is approaching
Notice how blue is shading
from deep to pale
There are no shadows
Cast by the moon
Hiding behind the clouds
Sounds reverberate from
an airplane drifting
to a landing
Morning’s quiet
regains the stage
Until a Robin chirps
a wake-up call
Sunrise is approaching
advancing from east to west
lighting the sky
Rocks whiten to become obvious
against the pallid grass of winter
robbed of nutrition by the cold of January
No orb announces today
the sun is rising, although hidden
behind dense condensation
The orange orb of the sun
will not flood the skyline
The fever of night
has become the pale of the day
May 3, 2025
May 3, 2025 at 1:57 PM UTC
I wear my cloak of crows
With a sly eye to the door
Hanging on the thought
Of leaving because
I've never really stayed
The black feathers flock to the window
Beady eyes survey my inaction
As the pitter patter of raindrops
Hum along the glass
I'm comforted for a moment
By my new ****** of friends
Gazing into my past
And the uncertain future
The rapid beat of my heart
Regains my attention
To the clutch on the armrest
My eyes have since shifted
Back to the door...
Like I'm there once again
Such a persistent memory
The one where it is too late
When regrets manifest
Into demons we carry
Through the mud, these burdens
Never letting you forget that instant
So I sit in this chair
In this room focused
On the door ready to run
At the end of the day
All the convincing in the world
Cannot change true nature
Not when it counts
Not when it matters
Mar 15, 2016
Mar 15, 2016 at 10:11 AM UTC
The world, I have always wondered.
Wanting, wishing and waiting to see
The things that lie right under.
Through countries, cities and people I'd meet
my drive at last was conquered.
I hope my dreams come back to me.
That the world regains its wonder.
Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 9:53 PM UTC
The wind blows a cool breeze speaking a language that I can only hope to understand
The sun shines through the barriers of leaves cascading down to hold me tightly, comfortably
The foliage steady underneath my unsteady feet promises to give me balance
The water buries the sand pulling it back into line always returning it safely home
A soft creature appears from behind the green wall crouching curiously in fear, denial
Unable to speak like the wind it simply blinks, both yellow eyes; once, twice, three times
The long fur covering it's body blows with the western breeze head tilted towards the east
It rises on two feet; remains stationary, despite the wind pushing it back
An array of colours catches light from the creature; yellow eyes, purple fur, black teeth
The deflection of colours creates a rainbow around the creature; a force field
It casts no shadow despite the downward sun trying its hardest to expose the creature
The array of colours surrounds the creature fading away with the sun behind the leaves.
The foliage struggles against its foot moving forward in a staggering motion as if they were glued
Fallen leaves crumble underneath its feet and flowers rot to a bruised purple
Like quicksand the ground tries to swallow the creature, hold it still despite its strength
Quicksand is not quick enough, the creature shuffles through the dying foliage
The water retreats, taking the sand with it, gathering as large an army as possible
The creature continues forward, the water continues back as far as it can before returning to shore
They meet in an unwelcome collision the water trying to push the creature back, unsuccessful
The creature emerges from the water droplets of water being repelled from its fur
The wind changes direction pointing at me whispering words of caution whispering, yelling
The sunlight illuminates me, sweat drips down my face like tears as if to say: hide
The ground shakes and trembles beneath my feet urging me to move, keep moving
The water reaches for me with open arms to hide in amongst the sand, to return safely
The creature spots me; staring unflinchingly, it stares back into my eyes with yellow ones
It's fur directing it towards me urges it onward dragging it alongside the cool breeze
It's feet start toward me slowly as the trembling ground regains its posture so does it
I stand in awe of this beautiful creature, so frightful so delicate aiming for me
"Humph" the sound of it colliding with me is carried away with the wind, long gone
The sun gleams off its black teeth blinding me before I feel it rip into my neck tearing flesh
The green, brown, purple ground lay stained with my blood dripping from its mouth
The incoming tide holds my hand one last time as the creature drags me back behind the green wall
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 8:18 AM UTC
A child.
Mocked,
Bullied,
Beaten,
He cries,
They don't listen, just abuse.
A child.
Words that wont come out.
Like a silent scream for help,
Forgiveness.
Courage.
He steps through the broken gates,
Defeats his lost hopes,
Regains the courage
But yet he is still lost.
The soul of a thousand lies.
Weeps, weeps...
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 10:07 AM UTC
Jack jumped last night.
We might have expected it
had we not been so unsuspecting.
Those blue periods of his,
I'm sure you've witnessed one,
were walled in somewhat by the
swelling tides of years
and years
and years.
When they came, they were
quelled by the very occasional red mark.
These punctuations
when they mercifully visited
would open doors for him, in
which our brother, neighbor,
father discovered strange liquid
tendencies to ailing strength.
Too many blank-out nights
could find him and his new
battery bickering the old childhood
verses. Too many four-of-the-clocks
would cue the choragos his
specter-critic's eye to deign a
Plan on our friend's blue
stationary.
A smile might have
mailed it straight ahead.
Perhaps it was last week when the
boat met the shore, some heinous
delivery of packaged, patent-business
sealed reformation, salvation.
In the midst of his violet smile
the cogent steam engine had a chute
into which it might heartily crash.
However it came remains to be seen.
What we have all seen this morning
remains our family's chief export.
Jack jumped last night.
He ascended the hill with his red hands
full of ****** punctuation marks, and
he spouted full-rehearsed
all those lines he'd learned in
grade school. Like a prolix
Gertrude complaining of her thirst.
And with the singularity of purpose
that haunts even the sharpest eyes,
he completes the trek to his three-foot tall Kusinagara
with his asthma wrapped around his neck.
Victory is a queer bird. Its song is never heard
the whole way through.
He breathes in weightlessness,
regains his bearing and waits for the
lines to quiet down. No one should leave
in the middle of a recitation, regardless
of the quality. At last, "Richard Cory"
reaches his terminal syllable and
our dearest man searches for his place in the music.
And it's just a minute,
just a minute,
just a minute,
jumps.
Jack jumped last night
Just as he said he would,
And had we heard him say it
We'd have thought "He could. He could."
Feb 24, 2010
Feb 24, 2010 at 6:49 PM UTC
Turn out the lights
catch the night’s bequest
Train your eyes on the horizon
sunrise is approaching
Notice how blue is shading
from deep to pale
There are no shadows
Cast by the moon
Hiding behind the clouds
Sounds reverberate from
an airplane drifting
to a landing
Morning’s quiet
regains the stage
Until a Robin chirps
a wake-up call
Sunrise is approaching
advancing from east to west
lighting the sky
Rocks whiten to become obvious
against the pallid grass of winter
robbed of nutrition by the cold of January
No orb announces today
the sun is rising although hidden
behind dense condensation
The orange orb of the sun
will not flood the skyline
The fever of night
has become the pale of the day
Jan 13, 2021
Jan 13, 2021 at 11:23 AM UTC
“oh, how they will all bet on morrows that strain rills after dark,
and yet the Game, unpitying, regains its lordly behest at dawn;
lean back and feel the turn of things, the chance, the risk, the almost...
ante!”
⋮
this mania!
when it wreathes,
the imperceptible of myself,
it drains through me, sedulously,
hands aquiver, sight fretful,
and the bath of wanting (and not, ergo),
spewing and fusing
inside the etna of my inlying.
you are, then, obedience itself,
long before the grapevine,
before the Cards;
rails tarnishing, yet begrimed steel,
rather ossein, or thew,
turning to a suttee so pale, it forgets its ills.
and the trains;
yes, they were gushing, though not afore;
“did you think they would arrive for you?”
they smelt into clag,
into a mist of faces, barren,
swelling and shrieking of throe,
snaking, snaking down the spine of
the Stake.
slaves betting with their ilk of ardor,
when a match struck, belatedly,
but already it is leaning toward cinders,
its shine no more
than a laugh of people,
leaving the hall shivery in its bleat,
charcoals sighing their waning,
others honing their exit.
bitterly, bitterly, i am
left with nothing to hold but smoke.
but time, ah, time,
the nimble Host,
old trickster with his cuffs of lithe,
shuffling cloaks for loose change.
he and i,
always at the same table,
and i know his favorite sleight:
to grant the boastful player
a losing hand,
and winning eyes.
the coin is tossed,
to the Parlay; so soon cast,
so soon swallowed by the piker.
the crowd, they clap for a name,
but it is never genius they are crowning,
only luck,
foremost Dealer,
with that last word,
smiling as he lays it down:
only the blind Card turned upward.
~~~
and i,
sitting with my empty cup,
still growing a taste for losing
foolish, surely,
but the loss only deepens the greed,
doubles it, whets it past the reach of will.
so ring then, coin,
dull as you are, tattered,
clattering against the floorboards.
it tells me i am counted,
measured,
already spent.
yes, yes, it is only a caprice,
but it hews, it digs,
it laughs where no mouths are,
and i laugh back;
ante!
Sep 13, 2025
Sep 13, 2025 at 6:33 PM UTC
the rich man sits on the abnormally small black couch between his twin sons who, having never been separated, begin to sob. he touches their heads together and worries their emotional immaturity will awaken his old want to have breasts. he tries to think happier thoughts but cannot keep them from arriving in pairs.
a baby left in a cloud. a cotton ball pregnant with a dot of blood.
states away, his wife regains consciousness in a spacious kitchen and rubs her forehead with a hand wearing a dish glove. her mouth moves to the words of an old poem of his wherein the leg of a preserved grasshopper was used to replace a burn victim’s eyebrow.
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 5:29 PM UTC
I dont think she remembers why she came.
Why she is a different person, when it rains.
When everything began, before she knew her name.
Before this creature, she became.
With the thickening Fogg and Desolate Rain; she grip's her cloak and follow's her pain.
Her lifeless eyes lead her astray, as her feet trip over one another before two others came.
She made her way into a clearing and silence she regains.
The dark purple skies reveal a shape of blame and into her form she became.
Her sense's heightened like a catalyst, her intentions were vague. Inside her heart was filled with rage.
She made her way into town, devouring all that stood in her way.
Her blood shot eyes could see for miles. Her smell was refrain.
But unto others she would look the same until her mistakes began to leave a trail from which she became.
They gathered in many, they carried they're pitch forks and Stakes but nothing would **** her and she would eventually get away.
Leaving the town in fear, she made away. She layed low for year's until one mysterious day.
A weary traveler stumbled across her home fatigued. Riddled with torment, the man lay waste.
Her heart poured for the man and so she decided to let him stay.
She catered to his wounds and she fed him each day.
He then returned to health and asked for her Name.
She barried her head, she did not say.
The man so thankful for her help; he decided to stay and pay back the woman who had no name.
He did not remember from which he came, this weary Traveler also had no name.
He promised that he would do anything for her to let him stay.
She gathered his stuff and pushed him away.
She shut him out when it started to rain.
The man confused inside but determined for change.
He decided he would go into town and return with necessary things.
As he returned there was a beast at her door. In a panic he grabbed a rock but The beast instincts much quicker than his own. The strength of ten men charged him down to the ground.
This beast would not take his life all at once.
The man remembered in that very moment from in which he Came.
But he still loved her, So he pursued her any way.
The beast then Struck him down. This time oblivious in rage.
She tore him limb from limb but Realizing was half of her Pain.
The other part of her enjoyed it and so she continued to slay.
I dont think she remembers from which she became. Her lifeless eyes that lead her astray.
Her feet fall over one another before two others came.
-RSC
Sep 17, 2017
Sep 17, 2017 at 3:12 PM UTC
As light envelopes the eastern sky
And scatters in all directions
Darkness is born within the light
In the form of soulless reflections
The light commands the darkness
To hide upon the ground
And to move among the living
Where ever the light is found
The darkness is taught to follow
Whatever the light decrees
And in soulless reproductions
To mimic what it sees
But the darkness has an enemy
That causes it to wane
The light is always washed away
Each time it starts to rain
But when the light regains its place
And shines across the earth
The darkness once again is born
As shadows are given birth
Apr 25, 2013
Apr 25, 2013 at 6:55 PM UTC