"remittance" poems
a draper is someone who creates garments or patterns by draping fabric directly onto a dress form (Wikipedia)
~~~~
I am a draper,
by trade, by nature, by instinct;
a fling of one arm across her body,
while she dreams and sleeps, rambles, mumbles,
and even convulses,
to hold her tight with two, with both,
soon grows discomforting as the blood ceases to flow,
the heat breeds unsweetened sweat,
and the snuggling impact,
is too fast subsumed by the pins and needles
numbing, deadening,
and ironical attenuation
this is my pattern,
how I address her,
how I dress her,
draping my contiguous,
drawing five fingers
upon her form,
reshaping her in her sleep,
the arm flung, there, and then
there,
to be hung,
at varied places across her body,
higher lower, above below,
but her face,
free and clear,
so not to interfere
with her sensory preceptors
and as I draw my pattern upon her skin,
her body whole,
listening her to indeterminate utterances,
to determine
which
pitter patter pattern
to which.
she feels best suited,
then,
I prepare my
invoice
for her,
for services rendered,
to present upon awakening,
demanding
in voice,
by her voice,
payment in words,
of her own chosen
amuse-bouche,
mmmm, will it be?
good morning my love?
hello you!
or just an indiscriminate
but yet,
a discriminating
sound of
having been pleasured
by unknown forces
in her deeper sleep, using her lips
to say, to hum, to sing,
a genteel unspecific
but, and yet, a
terrific,
deep from within
guttural remittance,
the sound of a delicious,
mmmmmming
greeting
a new equinoxal gale
of a refreshing fresh
birthing, fulsome
already satisfying
draping of the
day
Aug 13, 2025
Aug 13, 2025 at 5:01 PM UTC
Sometimes i wonder,
Wondering wonders of wonderful
World,for i living in this awful
World,spiral of life with terrific
Surroundings.
Unholy acts to the victims of
Xenophobic attacks,violence
Turns an everyday speech.
Government revolts gathers.
Towards poverty-stricken.
Diseases classic collide,remittance
Assassins rendered for intensely
Militancy.
Objection!!my lord,
Shysters bailing out
Evil-doers,juridical system
Not pertained.Poverty-trap
Pounding,chemical gases
Filling lungs of little
Ones.
Somebody play nice to
This,God play part to
This,denote dualism of
Good and evil.
Yesterday they gang banged
One of your children.
Drugs co-operate infection of
Young minds,youth gangsterism
Uproar.
Father herd your sheeps
To the right path,we seek
Guidance from above.
Family horror-strucks unites,
Matrimony rending day by
Day,onto religion segregations
Strickes by ??????.
Keep holy to this life *Life
Testimony* and paste
Amen...
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 4:32 AM UTC
~
the word flows off
the tongue with ease;
say it softly...
slowly please,
...dis-co-ver-y...
disclosure of illusory,
pursuit of the elusory;
the uncovering of
buried secrets, dark and deep,
quiet whispers, soft and sweet;
an unveiling of
the here-to-fore unknown,
illuminating darkened hallways,
where footsteps lead us
to a place where all is shown.
in life it is the quest,
explorer’s zeal
that will not rest;
in love it is
the unknown song...
to give it notes and lyrics,
time and tune
which leads to
melody and harmony.
in my time,
adventures...
i have known a few;
have sought to parse the lines
’tween false and real.
but no adventure
will replace
the one that beckons,
outstretched finger,
stares me solemn, in the face
each morning ’fore the mirror;
though the outer i may tend,
it's the inner to consider;
for to know oneself,
a journey long,
a venture of
mountaineering magnitude,
where the weak may hopeful start,
but summiting rewards
reserve remittance
to
those valiant souls,
whose inner spirit
strength imparts.
’tis not the heart,
in love to conquer;
but ’tis one’s trust instead,
faith the mountain holds
rope and feet steadfast,
finish line within
one's grasp.
faith the flame will never die
illuminate the corridors
that lie behind the locks,
the gates, the doors,
that live inside one's head.
to let another in
this place of buried pain,
of innocence gone by,
where dreams once flourished,
so oft lay dying, dead,
this secret place where we reside
the seat of all we were and are,
again will one day be;
this where needed trust,
gently to encourage,
carefully to nourish;
these the fields
of possibilities,
of hope, beliefs,
of budding dreams;
to be uncovered,
be unearthed,
love’s encounter,
tongues to loose,
await the brave and wise,
the strong discoverer,
unafraid to learn the truth.
~
*post script.
discovery...
surprise not its intent, yet may be
its greatest blessing, and accomplishment!
a favorite blessing of mine to bestow on marrying couples,
"may your discovery of each other,
never end, or fail to delight;
and return to you the wonder,
of first love and of first sight and light!"
to you, the reader, fellow sojourner,
may you never cease to discover each other!*
Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 2:14 AM UTC
In an effort
To be rewritten
Or rather
Be rid of
A lack of remittance
And a reputation there of
I leap into the darkness
Of a complicated mind
One must ride the lightning
To justify the lines
Though these insinuations
Seem intended to intrigue
Never mistake a Traveler
For some old hippy freak...
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 4:22 PM UTC
Is your pathway to heaven now structured
with those words that your verse seeks to pray
Is your stairway straight up or diverted,
with remittance and debts to repay
Is your meaning construed or verbatim,
with intention set free of this world
Is your love what was given or taken,
—with your heart now at ease and unfurled
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)
Apr 14, 2017
Apr 14, 2017 at 10:52 AM UTC
It has come to our attention that your License was suspended-
for failing to stop, within lines, for needed punctuation.
Your casual allusions to things and times of yore
Are confusing to the reader, and frankly mark you as a bore.
Your long winded analogies sometimes beggar all belief,
though some here think that your intent is comical relief.
All attempts at alliteration have been something of a dud;
You fall in love with the technique and sound like Elmer Fudd.
Your recent "Ode to Flatulence" using onomatopoeia
was but the latest instance of your verbal diarrhea.
Your metaphors are pitiful and this committee looks askance
at your evident confusion of mere lust with true romance.
Still, we are both kind and merciful (as bureaucrats tend to be) ,
So we'll renew you for another year upon remittance of the fee.
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 6:59 AM UTC
It has come to our attention that your License was suspended-
for failing to stop, within lines, for needed punctuation.
Your casual allusions to things and times of yore
Are confusing to the reader and frankly mark you as a bore.
Your long winded analogies sometimes beggar all belief,
though some here think that your intent is comical relief.
All attempts at alliteration have been something of a dud;
You fall in love with the technique and sound like Elmer Fudd.
Your recent “Ode to Flatulence” in its use of onomatopoeia
was but the latest instance of your verbal diarrhea.
Your metaphors are pitiful and this committee looks askance
at your evident confusion of mere lust with true romance.
Still, we are both kind and merciful (as bureaucrats tend to be),
So we’ll renew you for another year upon remittance of the fee.
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 8:24 AM UTC
Reality….
Is a cold, trickling path
Discreetly laced with relentless failures and nearly impossible victories;
Set in place, for its travelers to painfully bear;
With a road that leads to chaos, and with which this chaos breeds a new form of humanity…
We are called The Animals.
Fighting, bleeding, and dying for survival.
Pushing and pulling desperately at the strings attached to our backs,
Hoping and praying someone will magically appear, and cut our fate bearing threads of life.
Forevermore we curse those with power, and at the same time we cling to them.
Wishing and pleading, that these oh, so powerful beings,
can heal our never-ending, anguish and turmoil.
And yet these beings, these God’s request remittance from their people.
Forever draining them of the precious life they held so tightly onto,
Eternally controlled in a puppet master society,
Afraid to speak up, out, or against the string holders;
Fearful that if their inner most thoughts are heard,
They’ll lose what small bit of freedom they have left.
these animals,
these BEASTS,
Are forever muted in fear,
Of this double-edged sword of reality.
And yet they still continue to grow.
© 2012 SparksLC
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 7:21 PM UTC
Hard to breathe, no
where to turn. You live,
still, the pain of her burn.
I can only watch, friend,
there is nought I can do.
Yet, still, I ponder, the cause.
The ruthless lies of unforgiving
****** You turn to me for
guidance, mistake, perhaps,
your life the remittance? Friend,
for your sake, I ask forgiveness.
Nov 2, 2018
Nov 2, 2018 at 8:00 AM UTC
In my heart I am grateful for something,
and that something is antibiotics.
I have seen how it saves human beings
in the form of a lollipop lick!
I have seen in its powder and pill,
there're so many formations to take.
You can swallow or crush, even chill—
to be snuck in a popsicle cake!
But the but for our butts to be butted,
is called Antimicrobial Resistance.
It occurs when bacteria get superly bugged
whence it's late for any sort of industrial remittance...
Feb 1, 2023
Feb 1, 2023 at 2:23 PM UTC
*I traded in my crucifix to run away with a man
The life of a rebel
My life with a criminal
Battling my conscience with the devil
Second guessing & rethinking my ways
Freedom tastes so sweet
But is the price worth the pay?
My skin burns as my religion renounces me
Yet my heart beats to his drum
Sins and all
Loving him is a guilty liberation
A brutal descent, a satisfying fall*
Nov 15, 2017
Nov 15, 2017 at 8:17 PM UTC
Hope set on repetition
Single sentences, remittance
Cataclysmic, for a single state
Left to divide the remainder
Still, hypnotic trained psychosis
Found me scoffing at the notion
Growing old, centered delusional
Truth for something final
Dead-set pan, follow the camera, love that emotion, let it seep through
Lost, toppled bridges surrounding
Found more than a fair share of ashes
Corridors narrow enough...
Almost one in the morning, lost in the middle of some state or another
Neon lights come to a head, followed by the sound of the loose bulbs rattling in their sockets
Sounds of something crawling in the walls
I bet it all on retention
My whole life, I bet it all on retention
Marketable skills, not likely
Fighting for a timepiece that
I know despises, time will pass
One way or another
Make it last, fat chance
Almost out of change and past
Mistakes ring straight through glass
Mark the date
I have a love hate relationship with nice weather
Warm nights in particular, where it would be just slightly too hot if not for a nice cross breeze
Bearable, when I've got company
Not that I have much company to spare
Apr 7, 2018
Apr 7, 2018 at 3:54 AM UTC
Nothing but shattered glass
where the emerald city stood
the remittance of dreams shattered
echo's of a distant stars and pasts
This is where the blind girl cried
her cheeks covered in blood
this is where the bomb went off
and all her dreams obliterated
The swans with broken necks
drag themselves to her side
and in her agony she dies
in the burning she resides
As she fades from view
children wave playing with fire
she smiles politely
then disappears in a black hue
She is the dark future
a way man might become
a smiling puppy
dying for a home
By christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
By NeonSolaris
© 2011 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 5:41 AM UTC
Nothing but shattered glass
where the emerald city stood
the remittance of dreams shattered
echo's of a distant stars and pasts
This is where the blind girl cried
her cheeks covered in blood
this is where the bomb went off
and all her dreams obliterated
The swans with broken necks
drag themselves to her side
and in her agony she dies
in the burning she resides
As she fades from view
children wave playing with fire
she smiles politely
then disappears in a black hue
She is the dark future
a way man might become
a smiling puppy
dying for a home
By christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
By NeonSolaris
© 2011 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 7:39 PM UTC
The height of the ledge granted miles of visibility, from which I perceived a landscape so barren that decay itself had littered the earth with writings of its famine.
Fixed overhead, the harsh sun exhausted every part of my being as my eyes pooled with gratitude—for I could not imagine the state of my vision had the ground been more solid and hoary.
Abandoning hope of amelioration, I watched as the stone below binged upon the light—reflecting only that which met it between guzzles.
From this binge, a subsequent purge of radiant heat ensued, seemingly serving as a form of remittance to the air through which the energy had initially been permitted to pass.
Tracing the cliff's face, the newly heated air rose in gusts to the point at which it met mine—further immersing me in a growing sum of vertigo.
Overwhelmed, I took a step back and—despite my efforts—still somehow managed to collide with everything existing outside of my posterior. The view of the desert displayed itself to me in full; I saw a place unapologetically indifferent to acknowledgement or understanding.
Haunted by permanence, the thought of the city struck me—and I became overwhelmed by the disparity; I felt myself choke on the recollection of its nourishless bounty—an ever-expanding sea of stimulation, perpetually begging for attention: damning us to be pruned by its abundance while starving in its own growth.
For centuries, a desire for more has given reason to manufacture new means for innovation; and in its wake, it has left nothingness itself—the true logical default—to now stand as one of the few remaining novelties.
Jun 25, 2025
Jun 25, 2025 at 2:42 PM UTC
Being in the light of encouragement is comforting
to the warrior of doubt, no wounds, caused by
the insensitive alliance between the admirer and admired.
Is except able in the eyes of the beneficial betrayer.
No remittance can permit man to believe in
persons of confidence, upsetting the rhythm of life's
sweet alluring presents and purpose.
Perform with strength and admiration toward
the power of resilience and acceptance of faith
and assurance resurrection will appear in
glory and light and appearance, will cast the
warriors of disapproval away from wisdom and
acknowledgment of perfect alignment.
Enlightenment will make your path easier
to follow the warrior of confidence to survive
the unconditional force of immortality.
By Derena
© 2018 Derena (All rights reserved)
Apr 11, 2018
Apr 11, 2018 at 5:56 AM UTC