"relented" poems
We first sexed in a tumbling, fumbling manner;
The time had come, it seemed to us,
To consummate our ****** lust.
The Valley was shakin' to The Rocks,
A popular Irish band;
We'd had our fill,
I sparked the engine,
And parked my bike on Techumseh Hill.
The summit was dew damp;
We spread wide our pants,
Not knowing who should go for whom,
So we relented to the crescent moon;
I acquiesced to the shooting stars
When my eyes
Diverse moons have filled my nights,
Long since the grassy knoll,
Aug 13, 2019
Aug 13, 2019 at 8:31 AM UTC
...
Is that as bad as you are to me?
I relented
not because I'm tired
but because I believe that you're the best friend ever
disappointed ...
after seeing what you did
once you know how the actual
once you're comfortable with your new friend
and then I forgotten?
how poor I am
I'm not mad at you
sure
but
in fact you make me disappointed
disappointed
very very disappointed
disappointed with what you've done to me
disappointed to state that you've given me
but one thing you should know
I'm still here
and will always be here for you
my friend
my enemy
my dearest
my sister
my teacher
my favourite
my buddy,
otis
boyo
suganda
yuni tamara
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 1:21 AM UTC
A dancing Bear grotesque and funny
Earned for his master heaps of money,
Gruff yet good-natured, fond of honey,
And cheerful if the day was sunny.
Past hedge and ditch, past pond and wood
He tramped, and on some common stood;
There, cottage children circling gaily,
He in their midmost footed daily.
Pandean pipes and drum and muzzle
Were quite enough his brain to puzzle:
But like a philosophic bear
He let alone extraneous care
And danced contented anywhere.
Still, year on year, and wear and tear,
Age even the gruffest, bluffest bear.
A day came when he scarce could prance,
And when his master looked askance
On dancing Bear who would not dance.
To looks succeeded blows; hard blows
Battered his ears and poor old nose.
From bluff and gruff he waxed curmudgeon;
He danced indeed, but danced in dudgeon,
Capered in fury fast and faster.
Ah, could he once but hug his master
And perish in one joint disaster!
But deafness, blindness, weakness growing,
Not fury's self could keep him going.
One dark day when the snow was snowing
His cup was brimmed to overflowing:
He tottered, toppled on one side,
Growled once, and shook his head, and died.
The master kicked and struck in vain,
The weary drudge had distanced pain
And never now would wince again.
The master growled; he might have howled
Or coaxed,--that slave's last growl was growled.
So gnawed by rancor and chagrin
One thing remained: he sold the skin.
What next the man did is not worth
Your notice or my setting forth,
But hearken what befell at last.
His idle working days gone past,
And not one friend and not one penny
Stored up (if ever he had any
Friends; but his coppers had been many),
All doors stood shut against him but
The workhouse door, which cannot shut.
There he droned on,--a grim old sinner,
Toothless, and grumbling for his dinner,
Unpitied quite, uncared for much
(The rate-payers not favoring such),
Hungry and gaunt, with time to spare;
Perhaps the hungry, gaunt old Bear
Danced back, a haunting memory.
Indeed, I hope so, for you see
If once the hard old heart relented,
The hard old man may have repented.
4.6k
He crouched in the corner,
Huddling up against his brother;
Who made him feel safe
From his mother.
Glass shattered, and the boy ran out,
To the other room where
His mother was found.
The blood and glass shards
Were everywhere;
He reached for a towel
To bear.
His hands clutched it against
Mommy's wound;
"More alcohol,"
Mommy crooned.
He relented finally,
Giving her the bottle;
By ruby blood,
The floor tiles were mottled.
Lights flashed outside the cabin,
As the ambulance arrived;
The little boy would never
Forget that night.
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 1:29 AM UTC
_[northern hemisphere: on a beach above the 50th latitude at the end of winter]_
_(Winter-export)_, the beach frosted by fingers of polar constellations. It’s too cold to walk without huddling, but we do it nonetheless, because we only have one more night together. Your frothy hydro-rhythm spears into pith, irradiance; I breathe again, deeply. _(Thick lips; quick still-hunt.)_ I rivet fronds of dependence into the seams of your boreal palms, never planning to return the floating colony of barnacles I promised I’d throw back; you, never planning to catch the sun bored through salt spray, clasping crisp foreheads, stitching on glistered lips and froze-shut lashes. And on a day when you didn’t rise early enough, I was left out in the water until my chest was steeped deep in ice over the thought of losing you. _(Glimmering isle)_; my hair disheveled in sea-foam. Annular light. You pushed me in, and I relented. My isotherm sent chthonically. But you, in your legendary mantle, adapted my eyes to see the light hidden deep within your belt; such pinks and fuchsias I have never seen before, suddenly inverted. At absolute velocity, I cut my foot on sea-glass, bleeding blueshift, aligning to the colours of the zenith. You take me back to the starry house and we struggle with your parallax, a nadir inseminated on the celestial pole. _(Parsecs quaking.)_ You whisper, I’ll heal you. I’ll heal you, only if you let me. Only if… you let me… Over and over and over until it’s as mundane as the crashing coast, and unrivaled, I concede to everything and wake up deep in redshift, the whole universe escaping, warmth-ribbons suffocating the abyss: without you, alone on the ecliptic at last. In the spring-sinking, you order me a silver sword, sharp in starlight; to remember you. You stand a guardian, beyond the sun, flinging tiny ice-hot rocks _(freighting gemstones)_; King of the Heavens. I submerge myself into the bathic depths, skulking in aestival despair, as you trade the night for day. Little do you know, my resurgence is also in your hands.
_[i watched Orion slip from view every night this spring. No doubt he’ll return next winter... it’s sad losing a friend like that, for so long]_
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 3:07 AM UTC
An age old chair, in seasoned teak wood
carved, a perfect work of art, nothing less than
a masterpiece, and a reminder of so much past,
sat regally before our wondering eyes, tempting
on the central court yard of my ancestral home,
where generations lived.
Wanting to sit like my grandpas of yore
I found a carpenter, perhaps the last one for this work
who understands the air that surrounds the chair.
We discussed the concept,
design and the kind of wood
it has to be made,to create a replica
to bring back the grandeur of times past.
But then, found not an easy task it is
"Do you deserve it ?" the bearded
carpenter, was so blunt in his skeptic stance!
He puzzled me with his questions
Yet we were keen to give it a try.
The adamant carpenter relented
after many sessions of questions
and answers, perhaps my passion
did the trick, his eyes made me believe.
He promised to make me a chair
(The kind none would dream in this age)
as if it's a mission divinely assigned,
"You need to change a lot to deserve it"
he insisted, suggests a series of
purification rights "for your confused soul"
"To fit in to a chair like this , fulfill
all it's demands"in my ear he whispered
as if I am the chosen one for an ancient throne.
An antique chair shaped by the imagination
of my distant ancestors, now changes me
and without slightest resistance I submit;
would I ever know what is happening?
Aug 15, 2016
Aug 15, 2016 at 10:58 AM UTC
Every night was tortellini
when were roommates.
I complained about my chapped feet;
you bought me the wrong socks.
Black, mens, I clarified,
but you kept buying the women's.
Then one day you got it right,
only they were for you
because black is a warmer color than white,
and the socks of a man felt like cherubs.
I complained about my chapped feet,
you the heart of the world,
its cold silence.
But we remained "alright".
You bought new pajamas every night
and painted a beauty mark on your face
to match.
Years of x-marked places on our bodies
which no one saw because
we were cynics,
I the most.
No roses at our mat--we grew our own bushes,
ordered the ones with the extra thorns.
I charmed that snake,
you bit me on its behalf.
That I'd do such a thing
was shameful.
We were girlfriends in a can of salt,
tears in our eyes, mouths and ears.
We drank wine in bubble baths in our clothes
for three days straight,
or even four,
after that guy dumped you.
From then on
every night was tortellini,
La Dolce Vita, and--
and the freckle below your ear,
the horns growing from my forehead,
the way your falsies touched your cheeks,
late nights looking brighter
than they should,
than they normally would.
Pretending to be goddesses awaiting their gods--
while I awaited you.
Then you felt them too,
touched my head as though it were a fever.
I always knew you hated the suburbs,
and I did listen
when you complained about the gray rooftops
and the saturated green lawns--
"Give them a chance, please.
Then we'll get away--"
I begged, I relented--
The wine, finally, fermented.
You remember what I said next,
because after that you broke my heart.
I never doubted it was a bad idea
to say it
but I said it
and you left.
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 8:15 PM UTC
a hallway. offices. tinted sunlight.
people who have forgotten my name.
but i am here.
and then a room. and a meeting.
and i am unprepared.
“you’re up” says the leader.
and my lungs fill with heaviness as they all turn towards me.
my mind screams.
my throat locks.
and then a word fights through the scream.
and i breathe. and find a voice.
and then another word.
and a thought.
then relevance.
i am moving.
and eyes do not wander.
but the scream fights on:
they will find out.
i was connected at one time.
so the scream would fade.
but not now.
these many years later.
“we could use you again,”
he had said.
and i had relented.
but why? boredom? faith?
the scream of fear vs. the scream of isolation?
or a familiar voice dragging me back from madness.
“what have you been up to?”
he had asked.
and i had lied.
and now my mind all scrambled between work and stupor.
“what on EARTH are you talking about?!”
demands the one who should have taken over for me.
and the throat locks again.
and the scream rises up.
and he knows it.
but sympathy has no place here.
so i struggle with the scream.
and find the words to hide the Fraud
as he shakes his head in disgust.
and i remember why i left.
so i wade in the scream until i am done and take my seat.
and the scream that never dies whispers, “what else is there?”
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 8:52 AM UTC
A Beautiful and A Bitter Shroud
When I was little, I found a magic box,
tucked under the eaves where
we were told not to go.
Something compelling about the
forbidden, triangular space,
sealed off by lath and plaster,
made me resolved, beyond curious.
I kicked and pulled until plaster shattered
and wood cracked, delightfully.
The large box was filled
with silk, organza and tulle,
the proud-worn gowns
of my mother's college days.
At those ***** she danced
in them, hair coiled up
and earrings sparkling.
It was not about the men, I knew,
but her need to be admired.
I don't recall a punishment
for opening the box
but she relented and allowed
my sister and I to put on
her finery and pretend.
We wrapped them round us
and twirled to imaginary waltzes,
stepping on long hems so many times
that the gowns all came undone.
The rags were put away
and the room sealed up.
In my youth I recall but a few
times Mother gave in
and let us be children
or fairy princesses for a while.
Now she is old and finally
trying to wrap me in her shroud,
to make resentment drag me down
and envy of me, crippled with self-hate.
But that no longer works
and I tell her, finally grown
that this is not allowed.
I summon up pity and vague sympathy,
even if love left long ago.
I tell myself that
everyone dies alone.
Apr 3, 2022
Apr 3, 2022 at 4:16 PM UTC
The voice of Norway
It was there
At the border
A gray mass of stones
Between two countries
One country
Wanted to give it away
As a good will gesture
But the people
Those who didn't know
The mountain existed
Said NO
We will not give away
A pebble
Of our nation
There was waving flags
The authority relented
Took the offer back
The people had spoken
With a narrow-minded
Nationalistic fervour
Oct 20, 2016
Oct 20, 2016 at 5:23 AM UTC
Let us go
under the flickering lights
of this deserted highway
your face, reflection of the moonlight
I gasped, for air
Uncanny churned of loss words
My tips are craving for your lips
Move in, you waist around my fist
Your spine caved in to my touch
I feel your hair wallowed
And we relented.
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 1:20 AM UTC
Seeing me anxious more than a lot,
The old witch relented a little,
She let me breathe freely,
Back transformed into her daughter,
She touched my forehead,
Then I realized it was sweaty,
Seeing her lovely care I smiled a bit.
So she now lit up a fragrant incense,
The incense seemed so soothing,
She then edged closer to me,
Transcendental wings were visible,
She came even closer to me,
Then the wings simply vanished,
So traceless as if never been there.
It must have been another illusion,
The very day I had set sail to sea,
It was probably carrying over,
Troubling me each non and then,
In my wild dreams I had seen,
True she could not be & was not,
In my life the torment was written.
Soon I was pleading to her teary-eyed,
"Please don't torment me, it hurts!"
She looked at me with affection,
And said, "But I truly love you, sailor,"
She advanced forwards further,
***"Have you forgotten all those nights?
Did you even forget the night at sea?"***
I first remembered that night at sea,
The night back at home came next,
I had been seduced by her magic,
This was the real picture every time,
I was weak but I still felt warmer,
The night ship feels like yesterday,
I was in confusion about what to do.
Her face was transitioning rapidly,
The old mother to her daughter,
Her daughter to that very angel,
And back to the old mother witch,
Her smile turned into laughter,
The witch laughing at my cries,
Her face here was contorted a lot.
She seemed to be struggling a lot,
As though fight ensued within,
Soon I figured it out by myself,
First I must **** the witch to help,
So I looked around & grabbed,
Axe that I did spot lying there,
Spot on I killed the witch right then.
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 4:32 AM UTC
Thy body caressed,
By his guiding hands.
My nerves relented.
This is love,
In its own lust.
For power.
Man or Woman,
One strives more than the other.
Guiding hands,
Caressingly Hearted.
Thy kisses of fruit,
Desserts delighted.
His warmth within,
A heart pure and whole.
To heal her wounds,
Of the past Untold...
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 9:46 PM UTC
*Darkness was waiting on his hot rod motorbike,
When I fell from grace onto the hard ground,
Darkness was smirking wickedly as hell,
When I sensed it coming I closed eyes,
Darkness was all I had for 23 days,
When I was about to die I bargained,
Darkness was cajoled by my good deeds,
When I almost made up my mind for leaving,
Darkness relented & let some rays enter my life.*
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 8:05 AM UTC
Any time, he is the sun
resplendent, charm unlimited,
every flower go crazy when he smiles,
desire makes them even shameless
like animals in heat, they adore him
as the jewel of their heart.
But I alone was the lucky one,
his eyes gleamed in desire,
when falling first on me
I knew, I alone was his lotus,
the only flower he kissed with fervor,
all others were just shadows that chased him,
and he may have relented.
Though born in the depth of this slushy pond,
I am pure, having a single pointed mind,
It's not only my ruddy petals, that made him fall in love,
he felt my warm heart, many a love lorn beetle
tried to pry open, in vein.
But who would think this dark cloud,
pretending to be a class apart,
hovering above, haughty and proud,
would invade his intimate space,
would eclipse our love so easily
by obstructing our love exchanges.
How long, a moving cloud,
that dissolves every minute
could hold sun her prisoner,
against his wishes(I am sure)
Winds of change are gathering
with such devastating force ,
they would sweep her away, so far.
Then, lashing rain would dissolve
her pride, making the sky clearer than ever.
I would again look at his eager face
so worried not seeing me so long.
"The dark days of anguish
that kept our love in the dark is over" I would tell,
"we are together, see how your passion flares
none could separate us, till the day I wither,
what if it would happen even in a day or two?"
Mar 23, 2013
Mar 23, 2013 at 9:30 AM UTC
Under the thinning boughs of the Ash
he recanted the hush of the woods
The rain's dearth relented
as the Dryads, braided new ideals,
promising great abundance.
The sated Moon-flowers swallowed the
nocturnal owls silhouette.
The fallow lands impervious
to these swathes, broom
sealing their heedlessness.
May 24, 2012
May 24, 2012 at 2:23 PM UTC
The bird stood by the lake and peered at the bird on the other side so beautiful and fine
" So long my friend,I know now that you a are a state of my mind. I can never hope to be as superb as you.
Can never hope to be.
One day
After many years, the bird fell in love with a skunk that was a smelly mess
and after many years the bird fell in love with a chameleon. Very confusing affair
neither here nor there..The bird thought she was a chameleon too. No sense of self
She could have been an elf if that was required.
She eventually tired slithered and flew away.
Many years later she fell in love with a Hawk.You should have heard her squeak and squawk.
Said the hawk . I am hunter, you are prey now for your own good just fly away. She decided to stay. Anyway.
Persistent.?
Blind?
who is to stay.
The Hawk for some reason saw the good in the bird and
relented.
Learned to love the bird though a difficult task
to not follow instinct and gut the poor thing.
Little hawklings did spring.
Hawk .
Many, Many years later after much coaxing and coaching the bird
stood tall and felt a good vibe.
Tried to eat the hawk alive. Who knew.
A sad ending to the tale
duck feathers on the floor.
Jan 3, 2013
Jan 3, 2013 at 1:23 AM UTC
I met a man today,
he wore deep blue metallic suit
and ugly black slippers.
He stood hunched before,
his voice barely a whisper.
This was a broken man,
his life lost,
and his world withered.
Yet,
he tried to lecture us
on the last thing he loved.
He taught us the melodies,
how to create golden hum.
Rich and deep,
with the vibrations of brass.
Pricking and steep,
from wind over reeds.
Still,
I sat there and wondered,
"will this be me?
A man alone?
Scruffy and bearded?
All hope gone?"
At once I relented,
slowly it crept,
brightening the cavern within my head,
the thought.
I knew at once
that it would not be so,
for I have many years left,
and thousands of places to go.
So I just need to watch my step,
after all my life is my own,
and steer my ship where I want it to go.
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 8:43 PM UTC
For a moment,
a minute maybe,
an hour,
my head went under
it wasn’t thrashing gasps
or clawing to froth the surface,
just a steady,
non-negotiable weight
that spoke to my ankles
of depths
I tried to keep my eyes up
following the lipped bubble trail
to the howling truth above
but when my head dropped
the blue belows almost soothed
finally, before lungs gave,
tired fingers relented,
worried the knots,
freed the old strokes loose
Sep 30, 2021
Sep 30, 2021 at 1:09 PM UTC
(The day I met you, I relented: “Friend, do what you are here to do.”)
I flicked the gas card between my fingers. We had $50 to do whatever we wanted, maybe even take that aquarium trip up to Boston we had talked about so much. Your birthday was a month ago, you were then 17. This was the second birthday of yours we shared together and before you left- not before I told you to drive carefully, my love, and before you forgot all the leftover cake at my house- you kissed my cheek. I laughed into the naked air over my bed- Judas. You are my Judas. The Bible never taught me anything.
I don't think you know what anger can do to a person. You see, I haven't cried about you once. Not once, in one year. I have laid in the same spot where we first kissed, and I have not imagined your clumsy lips over mine. I realized then you could love something more than yourself- as yourself. The heat from your shoulder never bled out of my body. But, I do not imagine much more.
And maybe I'll be here, standing in the spot where we looked to the stars, a spot whose coordinates will never be written in history books, a spot with numbers I have no reason to remember but I will, and I will be screaming, where are you? Where did you go? Where did I go?
But I know exactly where you are. I will know you are lying asleep in your too-neat bedroom, the one blanket you had before me pressed over you like origami. I will know you are not thinking of me, and definitely not dreaming of me because you do not dream.
And I will know that when we were 15, we dreamed about 18. You could finally drive to who knows where, the window of your car down, music as loud as the law allows, the soft Cali sunlight sainting you. But now, my Judas, you are a birthday and a lifetime away, and where you are now and forever is wherever I left you when we last held hands.
(Today: “I will not kiss Thee as did Judas; but as the thief, I will confess Thee: Lord, remember me in Thy kingdom.”)
Apr 7, 2018
Apr 7, 2018 at 3:34 PM UTC
I got the call while I was at work.
Your mom found you lying in the floor,
You're still unconscious in the hospital,
I got here, doing the speed limit and a lot more.
They wouldn't let me see you, ICU is for family,
You're one of my best friends; they finally relented.
I finally see you and I honestly can't believe
The sight with which I'm presented.
I hold your hand and your hand is so cold,
Not like the lively girl I used to know,
I can't say the words I want to say,
But they all boil down to, "Please don't go."
Jan 7, 2016
Jan 7, 2016 at 9:37 PM UTC
The Rock
Even a rock
Can have a dream.
Even a stone
Can want to be
More than it seems.
Show me love,
Let me feel
I implore you.
Screamed a rock one day.
Even the Gods
Conceded in jest
Rock had shown them
An impossibility-
He just wasn’t made that way.
Tenacious by nature
Rock would not give up,
Until,
Wearily the gods relented.
We shall create seas
To beat upon you
Relentlessly.
Until,
You find heart
And you can feel.
Centuries later
With perhaps more to come
Waves smash inexorably
Down upon rock.
Hopeful one day
It will become
What it is not.
Ironically the duration of hope
Until,
The end of time
Means rock is already more
Than a rock.
Rock has dreams
Therefore it is not
Just a rock.
Life turned me into
The rock I was not.
Love turned me into
The human I forgot.
So then it must be true,
If something can be made
It can be unmade
And remade.
The Gods impressed
By rock’s tenacity
Resolved to never give up.
Rock would always be
A sign of hope.
A young boy chances
Upon rock one day,
Picks him up
Drops him.
Inside him
Is a fossil-
Rock became something this day.
(Gerry Aldridge)
May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 8:24 AM UTC
Leaden sky blanket of soaked thoughts
Adding wars back,
Giving the pale impression of illness,
Enthusiastic thunders,
Changing weather,
Swirl of birds
Darkness reflection of a world beyond
Imagination.
Changing weather,
Prosaic surfing, swivel,
Swirl of conspiracy
Theories
Conspicuously visible,
Relented turf
In a bout of self-pity.
Awake from this tragedy
Of disillusion
Finding the way to a clean resolution.
Enjoyment of theories
Opening,
Look for heaven.
Where is my perfect heaven?!
Dec 20, 2020
Dec 20, 2020 at 5:49 AM UTC
It's okay to go to the movies by yourself. (I mean, I've only ever done it once, but it was totally fine. The guy who sold me the ticket wasn't like, "Don't you have any friends?" and the people in the theater weren't constantly looking at me from over their shoulders and saying things like, "Is that guy really here all alone? What a loser!"
At least I don't think they were . . . )
Ditto for restaurants.
If you have a history of boyfriends/girlfriends who don't treat you very well, then you probably have a thing for negative attention.
If you don't trust/can't accept love, it's probably because you don't love yourself.
If ***** isn't interested, move on.
No really, move on.
I'm serious, cut the crap.
(Okay look; even if by some miracle it ever actually did happen (and I don't even like to use that phrase because it might give you false hope that it could,) it'd never feel right. It'd feel like you worked way too hard for it and that they only relented because they just got bored or curious and said, "Oh, what the hell," and then but only you'll be constantly waiting for them to get tired of you (who they never even really liked in the first place, so like, how can you possibly expect them to keep liking you until, you know, deathdoyoupart/forever/happilyeverafter and whatnot,) which will make life a living hell and far more stressful than it ever would have been if you'd just moved on the moment after she/he initially rejected you way back in the beginning.)
If someone doesn't share the same views as you, don't waste your time and effort trying to convince them to. (If anything, it's more likely to repel them.)
If you think someone has a false impression of you, don't waste your time and effort trying to correct that impression (you'll likely just solidify their false impression of you by doing so.)
If you know the right way to live, then you're probably doing it wrong.
The only thing worse than a poet who thinks they don't deserve love from anyone is a megalomaniac who thinks that everyone should love them more. (Sometimes I can't tell the difference.)
If you've been waiting for something to happen before you go and do that thing that you've been waiting to do for a long time, but only haven't allowed yourself to do it yet because you've been waiting for that something to happen first so that you'll then be ready to do it because that thing that you were waiting for has happened now and so it's time to finally go out there and do the thing that you were waiting to do because of the other thing that you were waiting on is over now so there's nothing left to use as an excuse to wait on doing it any longer for, only but now there's this whole other new thing that it seems you have to wait for to happen that came up as a result of that other thing that you were originally waiting for that you weren't expecting to happen as a result of the thing happening, and so now you're waiting for this other thing to happen before you go and do that thing that you've been waiting to do . . .
If you think you're being witty or clever, don't let on.
If you still can't figure out who you are and what you're about or what you truly believe in, even though you've been trying to so hard and for so long and doing all of this soul-searching in order to do so, then just give up.
(You'll finally figure it out shortly after.)
Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 11:12 PM UTC