"remoteness" poems
Book of life brings various mysterious chapters,one such spells my visit to village..
It was so awe aspiring, but no man's clock can be rewinded to bring that timeless age...
I shouted in wilderness like the way toy means to infant's rejoice...
my words couldn't jump over the peaks, bouncing back my voice...
I was panting and cramps got better of me,pushing me to rest on flat limestone...
But enjoying every bit of that pilgrimage and witnessing melodious chirping tone...
I resumed my journey upwards but soon grey clouds triggered the quenching rain...
Closing my eyes,i opened my arm,kids with cherry cheeks called me tenuous insane...
It seemed as if almighty took me to the heaven, being surrounded by the flowery and green hills...
In the east breeze those school kids were skidding down the slope with their paper windmills..
An aged shepherd was looking for some shelter,not for himself but for his lamb and sheep..
Such care, such love,that's why the wool machine searched the banyan where her master could sleep...
Some urbans haven't travelled to such pictures just because of it's tech- remoteness..
Wish i had my own hut in the vicinity of woods giving utmost peace,but I'm hapless...
Darkness is floating through narrow lane yet eye catches only citylight..
But wish i could dream again in countryside under shiny moonlight..
Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 12:23 PM UTC
1219
Now I knew I lost her—
Not that she was gone—
But Remoteness travelled
On her Face and Tongue.
Alien, though adjoining
As a Foreign Race—
Traversed she though pausing
Latitudeless Place.
Elements Unaltered—
Universe the same
But Love’s transmigration—
Somehow this had come—
Henceforth to remember
Nature took the Day
I had paid so much for—
His is Penury
Not who toils for Freedom
Or for Family
But the Restitution
Of Idolatry.
5.2k
when we met, it was tipsy tuesday and donnie had swollen fingers
and nate sank into his plaid frock and dropped his shadow
on the patio like a heavy slug, and the flies
cavorted in the vortex of our subtext
as the night skies spat stars
at our foreheads.
you were beautiful; too beautiful then.
i was smitten, i was tossed on stormy seas, unsick.
i was healed. the world spun filth and dull glamour
but your face hurled fireworks
and my mind leaned into my heart
and i knew i loved you.
whoever you turned out
to be.
i babbled and groped, as the inertia
of falling, filled my sails
and I was purposefully adrift -
in your brown-black eyes;
as a dog fetched a frisbee
for an illiterate.
and i think i bit my lip a bit.
I saw you for the first time.
for the last time
in my life
and was never
the same.
my heart, now more precise.
you had fierce speech
underneath your sweet speak
and long hair.
i had you in my soul's yurt
on a plain of windswept pavilions
with free horses and costly
remoteness.
i was ' there ' less
and more somewhere else
alone with the perfect you
reading my lips
as they tremored
delight of it.
i babbled speechless.
i remember you tossing your locks
at my cage. and i was set free.
please add me to your wishlist
and complete me.
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 12:55 AM UTC
a new month
an almost full moon
a new chapter?
feeling less stifled
not sure if I am feeling less lost.
trying to appreciate the journey
lately,
realizing,
the path chosen
may be more lonely
than previously pictured.
remoteness.
Regardless,
I walk on
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 2:57 PM UTC
Quiet and uneasy.
The voiceless breeze at my back was thickly draped with irregular design.
There I was... staring at my warped reflection in the remoteness ahead of me.
A revelation violated my over crowded mind and before I could even fathom my displacement,
the moon started melting.
As if calling out to werewolves, the hypnotizing moon started dripping moonlight.
Glowing moon drops crashed to the ground and I found myself surrounded by the dreams of a thousand kings.
Beyond the limitations of clockwork, I found myself surrounded and under siege by the visions of a thousand visionaries.
There I was.
A captive to crowns of light.
Taken.
A hostage to a deserted kaleidoscope of angelic halos...
So many blinding halos, all riddled with hidden wisdom and rare moon drop truth.
Halos infected with unfound secrets handed over to the chosen...
Secrets handed over by the masters of celestial emptiness themselves.
Like euphoric dreams within our nightmares...
the same nightmares found within our lost dreams...
The same lost and misunderstood dreams that dwell within a moon drops angelic halo.
Rare truth and untouched wisdom were just too pure for reality.
It would take the hallucinations of a thousand truth serums for us to conceive thier virtue.
Gene
Jun 7, 2013
Jun 7, 2013 at 1:51 PM UTC
Looking at her from a distance
She drinks her tea
As she gazes through the window
Admiring the botanical gardening
Which blossom every spring
She awaits
For my return from sea
Voyaging across the ocean
I'm terrified
By my conditions
A disfigurement of fatality
I was once a handsome man
Writing her many letters of love
Now
Remoteness is my only friend
How can she love a bewildered creature?
Hidden in my heart
Is a love
To this woman
Who sips with a soul of hope?
Jan 29, 2010
Jan 29, 2010 at 4:16 AM UTC
Crater filled with endless dust
Full of nothing, full of rust,
Never ending, but it must,
Deeper down and down.
Leaving grass too far behind,
Somewhere no one else can find,
The ones who crave loneliness pine,
for the remoteness of this place.
Why is it always dark?
Not a sun to set or the quickest spark?
Only lonely--a treeless park,
A grave for distant sunlight.
Making happy seem not right.
Celebrate a starless night.
In cherished darkness, the cold can bite,
in the depths of this caldera.
Maybe something happened there,
A distant fight, an unknown lair,
incomplete and crumbled--the pair.
And waiting for some sun.
But for now let's ignore this awful place,
And forget we ever saw a trace.
An unsolved mystery, a closed case.
We'll erase the crater who lies.
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 4:05 PM UTC
To concretize my theorized love,
I could play the accidental odds and strew
slippery tongues of spotted petals
onto thickly trafficked highways,
or use the best predictive modelling
to deduce when and where I can poke out
a well-heeled boot to trick unwary spills
and ****** a kiss from the unsuspecting
lips of any suitably compatible
passerby oft times inconvenienced and passed
on by.
These well-oiled and crudely experimental
methods do produce expected results,
but not the breakthrough nor the looked-for
satisfaction of appropriate reactions,
so I'll keep my dotted eyes tucked in
their pulpy stems and my shoddy toes curled back
while I beam my bits of invitation through
circuitous routes spatially arrayed along
parallel paths where one might search
with an extra-terrestrial inventiveness,
and wait.
I know the trials of these errant waves
won't add up to a guarantee
my burpy blips of a pulse can reach
the receptively comprehending and responsive
soils I seek, but it's the remoteness of a stead
to come stalking that appeals, and despite
the Hawking drone of unveiled warnings
I might regret such contact, I'll risk it all
on vaguely washed wishes this astronomical
anomaly with an alien sensibility has
one match.
May 3, 2010
May 3, 2010 at 3:15 PM UTC
Come to me great entangler of speech, until the mouth
is a thicket of word mash, you
who rakes strain out of the day to day visions.
Four nights last week you came in the dream-sweeps
flying at forty-one thousand feet. Encrusting this crimson suitcase of blood production with aurulent Trojan footstep rumbles in the hundreds of thousands.
Are you the new blues guitar, the trill bliss in satirical Dutch painting;
you who wrestles the languages of sleep. To get to keep you we'd **** all mystical beasts, sew treason, and wait naked for the dead things to come.
Remoteness in the time of the lonely.
Where you shed shivers of sharks
In wild dance and wicked tantrum, lilting
Beside the androgyny of days and Time.
You the dashboard Jesus of sin and canter.
No scurrying footsteps to barge the heavy moods of ****** or abscess.
In half breaths you weaponize yourself,
A take of drink and then with the rest of the aves,
Swallowed by the colossus of entanglement,
Taken beneath the blue awning amidst the company of the sea.
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 1:54 PM UTC
i cannot recall
the other in the night realms
always at my side.
oh, dark hours friend,
the sun rises, the fog comes
and the clouds, my foe.
remoteness contained in despair,
how the landscape declares
and commands--
such affection,
such frostiness.
do look out the window, my dear,
and grasp effects
and fly a kite.
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 4:41 PM UTC
……for mine eyes are that of shadows…. shadows that don’t exist…searching out imponderable abstracts….these eyes…these emerald green colored eyes.. reveal the false tranquility of time and expectation… they can picture the veil of illusion that has fallen between me and reality…creating a painful impression of remoteness…while a blindness pulses through my blood…. my eyes beat like a blue sun from an electrically charged sky…they are my eyes….they are such as is…. would cause a step into chaos…an exodus towards the wastelands of fragmentation and depletion…. where fictions are invented daily and all Images change….. where the shadows of my eyes disappear in desperation…strung out in a black void…they cause me to take steps into the space others fear to occupy…my eyes…my emerald green eyes become inside the incantation of a new dimension….yet I am ecstatic in their awareness…..for my eyes are the windows of all the imaginations I possess….they are that shaky bridge between worlds where I take my heels…my eyes…my emerald green eyes…have chosen thus….. that both once closed to each are the opening…..the opening to me….
Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 5:14 PM UTC
I have traveled this road
So many times, toward
The remoteness and
Nearness of our love.
In rhythm and rhyme
Our hearts and minds repose
Their faith, conquering
A thousand cycles of tires,
Which, no matter how many
Times they and this fate bring
Me closer and farther from you,
This road, will remain barely
As a road, because you are
The path...
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 10:57 PM UTC
Beyond the walls of sandbars and streams
waves break into silent white foams
often I've crossed them in my dreams
beckoned by the distantly looming haze.
The sky goads me to traverse the stretch
clouds hinder to ask what if rises the tide
the sea is all around in deadly embrace
her monstrous curls in hunger bared wide.
Climb the sandbars and reach her remoteness
calls the wind of the sizzling September
days as this would be gone in haste
shelled in memories to be ever remembered.
I slip into the lagoon in a drunken trance
the ripples break into a victorious song
the sea she breaks into a joyous dance
the time is here and the tides won't be long.
Sep 6, 2016
Sep 6, 2016 at 11:33 AM UTC
This is me
An embroidered creature cobbled together from fragments of history
Radiant
Brilliant
Bouncing around in this abnormality we refer to as life
Always seeking answers to questions that have yet to be asked
Unrestrained
Uncontrolled
Tirelessly looking for a way in
Chasing the wind over barren landscapes with threadbare trees waiting for sun kissed days - to be
Reborn
Rediscovered
A mythical being
Lost in legend with the remoteness of one long forgotten
Never finding myself
Forever locked in eternal seclusion
Waiting
Anticipating
Praying to unseen Gods for guidance who listen with deaf ears
Surrounded by happiness built on the fragile foundations of youth
Observing
Alert
Trying to find my own way
Of just being
Just being ....
Just being - me
(C) Pixievic 2016
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 3:32 AM UTC
Loginquitas:
distance remoteness isolation;
separated from others.
No specification about how it is,
what it is,
if it comes as a wall between
or only a space, unrightfully empty.
Isolation indicates past ongoing,
a thing not just temporary,
but potentially permanent,
a sentence like prison solitary,
like a state of celibacy,
a vow of silence given under duress.
Remoteness means far away,
not just a length of earth -
an Everest of longing,
ice shifting underfoot and when the footing goes,
down another interminable edge,
there the freeze into narrow sleep.
Distance like roads in the Midwest,
seeing for hundreds of miles,
the knowing discomfort, the steady hunger,
a fact that is this:
lost, interminably lost, losted after.
Separated from others is the afterthought,
the side effect, the symptom-sick,
visible, wriggling nakedly.
Worm-like, burrowed into itself.
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 3:07 AM UTC
Black stone juts out over greying ice,
A mass of alpine greenery,
Half bare, half masked in white;
The motion of a turner painting,
Colours cast through Lowry's eyes.
Camouflaged upon a riverside
With no sign of Lutheran ambition,
As faith faltered, medieval to Christ,
A small church modestly mirages,
Casting simplicity into Nordic pride.
The excitement of the northern lights
Over the precipice of these continents,
American and Eurasian plates collide.
The Langjökull Glacier screams
Witnessing its own untimely demise.
The remoteness captured in the landscape
Starkly contrasts to us who bear witness to it
And in the mirroring of the landscape
A lonely civil dwelling knows nothing
Of war between nature and humankind.
Feb 17, 2020
Feb 17, 2020 at 7:36 AM UTC
Clouds passing overhead
shapes moving
story of a life
I lie and watch
floating by
where white and blue encounter
past mingling with future
woven
in a present
of golden threads
where waves mist
showers of sparkling diamonds
restful
speaking
perceptions of a melody
a foundation on which to laze
pervades my beliefs
as I watch a blossoming haze
move across the horizon
diminishing into remoteness
and vanishing into tomorrow
Feb 15, 2011
Feb 15, 2011 at 8:37 PM UTC
I wonder when these shoes will wear?
If they'll ever spare another tear,
All scruffed and gruffed,
All wrinkled and crow'd,
A pair for a no show.
I wonder when this jacket will cease
to respire any fibre?
When the hem will begin to stem
an elongated thread,
The buttons express of remorse,
Why must they fall short?
I wonder when these trousers
will fail to hold my waist?
No matter to extensions or nostalgic reconsiderations,
No belt will spare thee,
or brace to contain me.
I wonder when these fingers
will cease to play?
All the joints never to cease with pain,
Wave away the cartilage and ivory keys,
Never to be pleased with the hollow sound.
I wonder when these ears
will turn hollow?
Through and out, not even a shout
Just regress into silent
remoteness.
I wonder when this love will fade?
Like the shoes and the clothes,
my fingers and musical repose,
But I'm not afraid,
For I know these will fade.
All is made to evaporate
apart from
the love that hides from sight
but burns in glorious light
Through the portals of our mind
that same light I see
time after time,
lit within your eyes.
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 8:56 AM UTC
Like breath,
people feel distance.
Away, far: light sleep,
falling feels forgotten. We’ve
really make
love. Days. Words. Sky.
Morning: dark.
Stay solid,
eat remoteness. Space:
impending decline.
Children asleep long:
Hands. Eyes.
Tongue won’t
slow stagnant works.
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 3:55 AM UTC
Ad astra
1
From the city I know you were from,
building up the perimeter in summer – it was plenty searing.
Must when I found the town already, triggered and almost accomplished,
searchable signs for searching parties involved like grass on the lawn,
scraps on an empty lot – when in summer it got very hot
and your salt smelt of the sea crushed in between my territories, start the word.
Flesh deems it so in frame, walking with us this very evening crafted
by a waking remoteness.
2
When it rains, build this city from here on – relieve it of its terrors.
The memory of an old cathedral being burned down to the last cross,
the volume of prayer genuflected within pews, or anything that was hieratic. Rain in the
afternoon was what your entire ocean meant to me, crossing its span of promise,
sure of its weather. Rasp the skin tight like gears fine-tuned. Borrow its heat when
it drizzles. Do you remember my face when you pass by familiar pavements, stalls,
hospitals drenched in prognosis? The even flutter of a bird? What does this question seek
but your truth – like an elastic map stretched to infinite directions.
3
Here is where you were named darling. Taut your name had it belonged to someone else.
Sharp were your features. Your definitions smooth. Your textures visible with difficulty.
When you wore denims rising from the cuff of your knees you showed
me a blotch and other fraternizations. Moles as variables. Your body as graph. My senselessness,
somewhat a trying delineation. Thousand fingers mesh altogether to formulate rescue,
mind a garden of salvage enough for two. Or underneath the sphere of a body,
neither rain nor sun could stop to flourish me completely. Yourself full of
symmetries – the universe cut inside and out, trimmed to lasting – ubiquity, inhabiting the temporary.
I transact with this darkness yourself containing light, like a window to your home
when you’ve moved on to a different continent, I myself staring right into as if the whole space,
in search for a singular glint I could make up for a cluster
to make an elusive thing such as you walk backwards, from the entry, just before the guardhouse, to meet me.
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 7:39 AM UTC
life on our globe has turned
truly ‘complificated’
and many struggle to maintain
a semblance of the ordinary
in our daily goings about town
face masks, regulations and prescriptions
have changed how we can interact
if we may at all
with each other, friends, family, or strangers
physical distancing may rise desire
for at least digital social closeness
yet in its wake
emotional remoteness seems to grow
hanging like a shadow over
occasional live meetings with old friends
children, aunts, uncles, grandparents etc.
we watch them with veiled suspicion
they somehow look a little less familiar
since we met them last time
who knows what they might carry
strangers watching strangers we have become
growing more alienated from each other
Sep 14, 2020
Sep 14, 2020 at 11:55 AM UTC
It's quite the smell
Of the ocean, cliffs below
Waves crushing rocks
Wearing them down
With the smell of the sea
Around us, held by the forest
Pines prevalent, highlight the remoteness
Keeping us secluded, safe
From the crowds, from the people
Masses of eyes, always stripping me
********** and molesting me
Imagining their hands on me
Far away, far above
Embracing the taste of salt on the air
Blankets of pine needles
Nature's rug for the barefoot soul
Here I can be naked
Baring my soul, free
I can write, leave my mark
Feel the sun rise behind me
And expose my ink,
For the world to see
Not alone, he protects
Pressing against me, held
Not a burden, not anymore
A warmth, love, of being
Nature' fences and emotional
Security; every sense supporting
And given to just me
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 9:16 AM UTC
.
To overcome, relinquish
and forget,
black – hearted eyes, as well as innocent,
feigned words of solace
and bitter embrace.
To forget the joys, affections and desires,
hardship and bliss,
friends and enemies,
smiles and tears and prayers.
To be insincere.
To write no more verses.
To trust not a soul.
To understand no one and naught.
To forgive not.
To pass a verdict ‘pon oneself of
remoteness and taciturnity.
And soar towards the glistening
of Cosmic dark infinity.
Saša Milivojev
Translated by Ljubica Yentl Tinska
Oct 21, 2019
Oct 21, 2019 at 2:30 AM UTC
I hear it in her voice,
alluring
she hungers,
a slave
a slave
to this tingling.
I feel it,
I feel it
in her vibes,
it is maddening.
She thirsts,
I hear it,
I hear it
in her raspy throat.
& the remoteness
found in her broken heart,
beats deep,
deep,
deep,
behind the scenes,
she starves.
Give me a reason,
I yearn forever.
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 7:08 AM UTC
My trident is dull
and the sea is getting deeper-
up until it sees the sun and
and leaves...
left in a hurry- but the right way
after such a tragedy in the history of
sin-
and complex emotions word of
tongue cannot show the remoteness
of our essence
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 6:56 PM UTC