"replenished" poems
Ah yes, the magic of human touch,
Trusting to warm my soul's skin
Tis nature of loves connection, as such.
My body accepts, oh if you only knew
Like an honored guest, I grin
Anticipating the pleasures, one of the few.
Skin to skin, our bodies converse.
Uninhabited, my mind wander
Deep inside, my craving thirsts.
Artful hands sculpt with purpose
Lulling layers open, you're quite the artist
Soothing caress melt my body formless
I'm yours, silently, I surrender.
As my flesh cries out for more
Arching waves of splendor
Rewarded my senses sated.
With newfound clarity reborn
Mind, body and spirit replenished.
I thank you for your gift of touch.
Lovingly, I would return the favor,
as such.
Oct 19, 2015
Oct 19, 2015 at 11:34 PM UTC
And your soul will be replenished
once you're showered with
what you crave
and yearn for the most
Your roots spread
and dig
and grow
You'll spurt into the tall blades
into the night sky, even
Your curled petals
will open to this world
What do you need?
Your stretched petals will tell you
And so will the sun,
the great source in the sky
Grow and grow through the garden
The garden is your home
to rest
to replenish
You need a home
You need others akin to a home
Flowers need love
And love you shall receive, child.
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 11:04 PM UTC
1. Fallow brown, like he's poured his whole soul out through the gold sieve and lies in wait to be replenished.
2. The color of the ocean. Blue, I guess, but that’s not even the half of it. All the ruggedness of the waves—forming up, breaking, and forming again like life is only the motions. Her eyes are blue, but you could hardly tell.
3. A hand-painted bowl of fresh chocolate frosting from which the most immature hands soonest get a mouthful.
4. Beautiful. Like, drop dead gorgeous. I’d dig my own grave and stick to rolling in it if she ever looked at me some type of way. Their color? I don’t know. But most of all, I dare to wonder about the bludgeoned scar between them.
5. Sturdy cobalt. Far more indicative of her steady heart than gold could ever hope to be. Still susceptible to tear, but not so easily warped by heat or stress.
6. Simply brown. No, red? It’s always been hard to tell through the fog. Truthful like the rawest earth, I’ll call her mahogany.
7. Faded blue spray paint over a slate gray wall. Forcibly muted after her years of blasting music, but there’s still that rogue twinkle to them that I pray slips through the cracks.
8. Coffee, with all the vim and vigor to make you click your heels and fall in love.
9. Unripe lime seen lazing in the shade. Not fit for a margarita just yet, but straining at the bit nonetheless.
10. Hazel, although I still don’t know what the **** that actually is. Whatever. It looks nice on her resume.
11. Green. Or were they blue? The memories of her were too wonderful, too important, that I had to let the littlest details fade away first.
12. The crystallized seafoam that made me realize I deserved to feel alive, too.
Jun 24, 2018
Jun 24, 2018 at 3:09 AM UTC
I climbed a tree to see the world....
Well that and get high where the world looks gardened
and glows brighter
as it is demolished and replenished
These elements in nature,
manipulated in a lab,
Can change our entire perspective
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 5:28 AM UTC
Be like a rose
They see your beauty
They want to come close
So elegant and well formed
Just one touch..
Then theyre deformed
Your thorn so piercing
It had them fooled
Replenished their thirsting.
Mar 7, 2015
Mar 7, 2015 at 7:59 AM UTC
I know you are part of my destiny
So I haven't cried as much over our separation
True, I did cry an ocean of tears
But not so many to drown the grounds I stand upon
I said words of frustration
And whispered cries of surrender and desertion
But I am open to emotions and those words allowed release
-But- what I suggested in heated state of mind was just that
Suggestions, not proclamations nor plans
You know I tend to submerge myself in evil waters
In order to rise from them with strength even greater
Those shouts you may or may not have heard were the waters I was wading
And now, I am back to the heavens with a heart more unbreakable
Refreshed and replenished with the purity of home air
I remain sure of the decision I made that day
Don't worry, I am still certain of my true love for you
No- More certain of everything
I guess it took all those months to realise it
I needed to break down in strengthening
To lead the way to the point of exhaustion
Because now, it's your turn to stand ahead
As I deep down predicted, my words did not gain action
Although reactions were clearly achieved
Though words were controlled and questions avoided
Your eyes that trick you, are as always unable to deceive me
I guess what I am trying to express
Is my undying true love for you
My heart is unbroken, despite what I said
Still holding you within, still cradling our infants to come
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 2:07 PM UTC
The mine boss needed three more men.
Several showed up at the mine.
He saw a big strong German
and said, “You‘ll do just fine.”
Your job will be to take a pick
and scale the walls of ore.
The work is hard but you are strong.
You’ll certainly endure.
A Swedish man stepped up out front.
“Sir, if you’ll hire me…
You’re sure to get your money’s worth.
I’ll do the work of three.”
“You’re hired!”, said the mine boss.
Grab a shovel from the back.
You’ll shovel up the scaled off ore
into the mine car on the track.
With one more left to hire
The boss looked down the rows
and saw a little Chinaman,
all dressed in Chinese clothes.
The last job is an easy one,
“Mr. Chinaman , I choose you.
You’ll be in charge of all supplies.
When low, we’ll come to you.”
Off they went into the mine
to do as they were told,
A German, Swede, and Chinaman,
into this mine of gold.
As supplies needed replenished,
the Chinaman could not be found.
The mine boss went into the mine
to take a look around.
.
Anyone seen the Chinaman?”
The Swede answered, “Ya sure,
The crazy man run down the mine
and no come back no more.”.
The boss man, now a bit upset
grabbed a light so he could see,
and through the dark, went deeper in.
Where could this Chinaman be?
He’d gone, it seemed, a mile or two
with great concern and fear.
There, hiding around the corner,
The Chinaman sensed him near.
He jumped out from his hiding place,
this Chinaman so wise,
and nearly scared his boss to death
when he yelled out….”SU-PLIZE”!
Nov 27, 2011
Nov 27, 2011 at 9:57 AM UTC
The smell of a spring rain
settling on the earth
is the smell of life anew.
At the window, I sit with a book,
both cracked,
cooled by the alfresco air seeping through,
and tiny droplets glissando down the pane.
The pitter-patter of a soft rain
falling to the parched earth
is the sound of life replenished.
At the rain's offset, I leap from my chair,
exiting the front door,
to saunter through the lush green pastures
that linger outside the library's confines.
How green the trees appear, and the grass--
how rich the stalks of the trees,
their boughs with budding leaves quenched,
glistening in the sun.
I even enjoy the scent coming off the once arid pavement--
it is the smell of the earth,
freed from its impedance,
rising above the stifling asphalt.
I smell the life that lingers beneath,
and the dull metallic tinfoil taste of the pavement
fills my open nostrils--
It is pleasant, though a little less so, than the ambrosial landscape.
I inhale ever so deeply,
relishing my favorite part of spring,
in the offset of a warm afternoon rain on a brisk day,
sauntering through the wood-laden trails on worn brick paths,
to the paved parking lot where my car awaits--
delineated in a filmy layer of mired pollen residue.
It needed a wash anyways.
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 1:34 PM UTC
Lush green hope
Springs from the ground
Replenished with love
Carpeted landscape
Soft on the feet
Every step cushioned
Exuberance of nature
Caresses you
Soft kiss of the sunrays
Glittering dewdrops
Priceless solitaires
Every facet of nature
Held within them
As I skid along the green
To roll down eternity
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 8:41 AM UTC
We met through a latched gate
down a straight concrete path
With flowers and grass on either side
To a white cottage with a
Thick thatched roof.
To the right of the front door
Was a climbing, yellow,’ Chelsea’ rose.
The garden was an orchard of tenderness with
Five elderly leaning apple trees bearing fruit.
And David Austin roses in a variety of colours
Many wild and cultivated flowers grew and plentiful
Of bird song.
Roger and I sat together at a small
Table and chairs
And were given a delightful meal
Of chicken and vegetables
Followed by ice cream and mixed fruit salad
After resting with cups of tea
I wandered round the garden to see all the
Beauty of this wilderness and a boat in a large
Rather dilapidated shed
Later to be rebuild into a fine garage of
Original Suffolk stone and two wooden doors.
Our time together was very precious to me.
Filling in much that I had heard about, but
Never encountered, from a very dear relative.
In the afternoon we went into Bury St Edmunds central
To see the Cathedral, Abbey Gardens, with resplendent
Flower beds frequently replenished in an abudance of colourful changes and the antiquated book shops.
The day was concluded with strawberries and cream in the
Park sitting on a bench in the sun.
We had a long journey back to Watford.
I never forget this day so unusual was it
Made by my friend.
Love Mary xxxx
Jan 28, 2019
Jan 28, 2019 at 4:51 AM UTC
Hold me and tell your tales of gore.
Kiss me 'till my lips are sore.
Passion's run our veins out dry.
But I'm much too blind to consider why.
I crave your bruises on my neck.
Screaming, but we're not done.
Two denim lovers, hearts a wreck.
Pumping 'till we both hum.
Attached at the tongue you say?
I'd only ever ride that way.
Drag me across the floor and then
Kiss me all over again.
Leave no question marks this time as you pull my skin in synchronizing rhymes.
Kiss me like the wars are done.
Kiss me 'till we both feel numb.
Kiss me 'till we both taste blood and stars dance behind our eyes.
Don't leave my side 'till you decide my fire's best left replenished.
Once our time's done, and my neck is hung, you can carry on with your fetish.
Love me then leave me
Lonely, cold on the street.
Sick and dumb,
Just another discarded piece of gum.
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 3:03 AM UTC
a man gave me that phrase as a gift today.
quiver of constant smiles
for well he could,
yet little did he ken
the nature of the present
because
I read the smiles as the
tween the spaces,
in between the words of
anguish that never goes away
how can this be,
how to make sense of this
well I am a father too,
of words and sobs
and ownership of sins
between sons and fathers,
who inhabit
the unfilled spaces within,
the drawers with their name
on masking tape attached
Your fathers's hell will slowly go by
Show me a man-father
whose lips
have not quiet quivered
when hearing those words sung
we ease the grip of
carrying them on our shoulders
when they are five at the
Macy's day parade,
running alongside their first
solo bicycle ride
we ease the grip of
the vise of
not seeing them for years,
or never again,
cause they hold you guilty,
responsible for their confusion
have too, ease the grip,
cause we got more than one
singular responsibility
so we dad draw,
a smile from the quiver,
that like those of the elves,
replenished magically,
strap it on wide,
mile high and move on
oh you teenage children, you babies,
with your endless angst and bravado
of drunken scar talk,
first love lost
and the hard course
of being sixteen
put down your tiresome blunt pens
that revel only in Self-intensity glorious-galore,
read of the self destruction
of love pains thirty years in the making
and fifty in the undoing
write of ancient inescapable feelings
decades in the vat, aging, but drunk in the
moment quick searing of
every life breath you take
and it's Sunday nite
and the work week hell begins
but it is no compare to the other,
but **** you can't understand
so chant these words,
reflect on them well,
for soon while you dream sleep,
in clean, dry sheets and safe bed
a man will come for a peep,
to make the checkmark
on the all's well list
so chant these words,
a sad violin melody,
the single sole he ever hears,
*Your fathers's hell will slowly go by
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 11:13 PM UTC
377
To lose one’s faith—surpass
The loss of an Estate—
Because Estates can be
Replenished—faith cannot—
Inherited with Life—
Belief—but once—can be—
Annihilate a single clause—
And Being’s—Beggary—
2.9k
Lust, when it grips us, is a sudden swell,
occasional in a mountain river flowing downhill,
from the high ranges of inflamed emotions.
The ecstatic roar while the discharge is easily forgotten ,
the river runs dry soon enough , when the torrents abruptly stop,
as the winds chase away the clouds, all of a sudden.
But those pools, your blue,beautiful eyes, clearly defy,
rules of seasons,brims invariably with love pure, all along,
and yes,it gets replenished,from the deep well springs
of your heart, it remains full whether I am far or near.
Nov 26, 2015
Nov 26, 2015 at 8:18 AM UTC
Only one little
silly tiny
movement
can create ripples
of effects
and tonight
as I reached for the
garlic or salt
or whatever
the hell it was---
something harsh was set
I brushed your shoulder
or was too much in your space
somehow jolting your ego
from its permanent, fragile place
You chose to take that
and make a fight
from dust
and this in turn led
to splitting hearts
spitting corrupted trust
passive aggressive silt
swept out
from under rugs
emotional bluntness of punches
instead of the realness of hugs
Where have we reached
what have we done
All I know
is my heart's on
the run
These little ***** triggers
can open
Pandora's sick, dark box
unlocking old resentments
from behind rusty locks
"You will never be forgiven"
are words
that destroy
they suffocate and choke
turn real gold to alloy
and Man, this gold is melting down
running in streams
painting false this town
in shades of hurt
in shades of pain
just lay me down
in this thick desert sun
to bear this unbearable
splintered strain
Let me pour this liquid burden
into the salt of the cracks
of the earth
Let me be replenished
with crystal water coolness
as I, head held up in tears,
remember
my golden worth
Aug 8, 2016
Aug 8, 2016 at 3:02 AM UTC
Woven patches of grey,
hues slow in momentum.
Tattered gaps letting through
gleams of radiance.
But in motion do the faults
get sewn in silver linings.
And this blanket
mesmerising below.
Then the lonely flower opens
its petals, reaching towards
the patch work of loving greys
yearning for a touch.
A singular drop falls, taking its
time to meet below.
So far has it descended to gently
caress her wilting petals.
Replenished dew drops hang from
now pristine colours.
It waves in the subtle breeze,
swaying in a dance of gratitude.
Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 4:47 PM UTC
As if I’m going to wash my sins,
by finding a substance so viscous - to annihilate the acid
that seeps through me.
Perhaps it’s you refilling my first glass,
which is dried up by 11,
and replenished by 5 past.
Must I keep forcing it down my refusing gut,
so I can bare the stutter drooling,
crumbling, out your teeth.
Till I’ve sipped needlessly on your lies
and fell drunken on your delusional fables.
Now I’m slurring in my nights,
awoke, still high on your acid.
Eyes are bulging, bloodshot
from you firing bullets of your decaying burden.
-
As I walk I stumble,
diverging around solum streets.
Crows peck at my skin, to prompt me at sunrise.
Now and again I revisit
the morsels I had collected from the bottom of your chalice.
Savouring as I gulp down my regret.
Desperately urging to be hungover your reveries
one last time.
Apr 11, 2018
Apr 11, 2018 at 7:01 PM UTC
I do not want to be a fishing float
adrift on the waters of existence,
allowing myself to accept stagnation,
bobbing ever buoyant to
the ebb and flow of the mundane.
Reel me in and cast me again into living waters.
Wash away doubts and anxiety —
the fears that snag my line, my vexation.
Give me peaceful rest in fresh water
that is replenished by Your rain.
Mar 14, 2017
Mar 14, 2017 at 10:45 PM UTC
Full moons and half hearted woman followed by dates with men that will soon go missing. Young girl just searching for that consistence. So wrapped up cause of the man she never got to witness. Now she gives herself up to everyone that's persistent. Soul turned Icey but yet she still glistens. Just a beautiful example of a woman without vision cause her outside has ****** up her inner appearance. When referring to ***** hoes and ******* is the only time she gets any mentions. Waiting to be replenished in her world of submission. Prayers every night to god but i guess he didn't care to listen. Lonely every June 15th yet she never stopped wishing to reconnect with the man that was the cause of that first incision. Crazy someone she never met can cause such resistant but she never loved herself again after his decision.
Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 7:07 PM UTC
Like a Venus flytrap she enticed beauty
Captivated upon its purity it feed the
Mind malnourished of thoughts inside.
Absorbed its essence upon her own Decaying
Moments now nourished, withered moment
Now replenished, but still It dies.
Mrs withering was deaths other hand
Now all purified with her gaze. She was
The hand where beauty came to die.
Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 5:24 PM UTC
Did you notice the painted trillium—
The way it freckled the dark sky
Or the hills below the Sassafras summit?
Scarcely scattered beneath the pines,
The blossoms live and die like love,
Or maybe not.
Perhaps the petals live like I’ve imagined after they die,
Boutonnieres pinned to the night’s blue blazer.
But even if they don’t, I envy the way they live
Their lives without wondering whether
Or not they might dream.
Our clothes fed the sweet pinesap,
Rotting with our minds on the forest floor
That night beneath the Lenten moon,
And the cold draped our bodies
In a film of sweat as thick as the sound
Of the falls flooding the valley.
Winter’s fear saturated our bivy’s fly
As Spring drew near, but still we slept.
Your pupils danced behind my eyelids
And God shook his head in disgust
While we sipped silver steins replenished from Lethe,
But only angels died that night in Elysium.
Oct 21, 2012
Oct 21, 2012 at 11:02 PM UTC
Time for something drastic.
Defining life on his own terms.
No angels. No demons.
No expectations. Just drift.
North to South.
Walk while the coast heals wounds.
The sea breeze renews.
Salt in the air acts like a baptism.
Sins of the self washed away.
North to South.
To be alone. To think. To reinvent.
Depending on oneself.
Food, water, and survival with these two hands.
Not needing much more than that.
North to South.
Not the destination.
More the journey.
Replenished.
From here, sorting life out.
North to South.
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 12:58 PM UTC
I passed the thronging Gariahat market each day,
There were quite a few comrades on that very road; but only one seemed acquainted to me
A florist; whom I would survey.
He held a basket of red, lucid, hibiscus flowers as I could see for wee.
The drastic smile reminded me of old Grand-dad.
The alluring gleam in his hazel eyes remarked despondency.
I wanted to confide to the hard working lad,
That he isn't alone, and sing him a strain, melancholy.
His smile was blemished.
His bony hand could not hold the basket for a prolonged time,
And I thought his wounds must be replenished.
My contemplative eye would be abstracted by the tram's chime.
Once, on the night of May
When I thought he was endowed with glee,
To him, I lost my way
For sleeping pills vanquished me.
I stood there like a woebegone,
In reminiscence of my inamorato
As the funeral carriages were drawn,
I weeped while that naked smile on me, would bestow.
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 10:48 AM UTC
Perilous mornings lighting what was once a night devoid of light
as the Sun whispers to us secrets of warmth
Sunlight trickling amazement ‘cross the horizon as it is of striking blue.
You and I could walk the earth as it is painted in sunshine.
Like water on a rainy day, replenished and unsightly beautiful in mystic drip-drops.
Hand-in-hand, connected for these pines to see
with me
Lost loosely in the trees, lingering forever with you.
seasons come and seasons go
to and fro with the snow
where the other is not.
i lie sleeping on this cot.
The feat of your words undeniably strikes me off my own feet, smiling all the while:
Glimmering
&
Glistening
Glares
You,
My
Eternal
Snow-drop
“just close your eyes”
and see the sunrise
i will leave you to surmise
What divinities of love are shown to me in the eternal glory of this -- a full moon.
Love is a hike, and I like your path.
mountains that crown the continent.
camped in a forested palace
many the paths to take,
with you, though,
i shall not be lost.
for it is with you,
that I am only truly found.
The light shines back to us,
the reflections
of smiles aplenty
and laughter
on and of the water.
Nothing is normal and everything is strange.
in this moment,
in travelin’ cross this land,
in the shining sunlight,
what are we to forever share?
Grow and go unto this world
where you are free to see all there is to see
and be.
Jan 11, 2012
Jan 11, 2012 at 10:29 PM UTC