"retreated" poems
I thought I heard it in your voice
An unreal suggestion to sincerity
It was like my heart stopped for a lifetime
As butterflies collided in my stomach
But that all seemed to vanish
My heart sank to the pit of my stomach
And the butterflies retreated rightfully so
The very second you sidestepped such a foolish thought
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 12:18 AM UTC
The lone wolf howls
in the dark night,
casting it's shadow
over the pale moonlight.
On the river banks,
his prey, he silently stalks.
Lurking by the trees,
he, so quietly, walks.
The innocent deer
became unknowingly a prey.
Targeted by the wolf,
who lives astray.
Ready to strike,
upon the deer her pounced.
Letting out a growl,
"Beware" he announced.
Alas, he missed
his only chance.
The deer ran away
in a single glance.
The lone wolf whined
on his unlucky loss,
staring at the footprints
on the soft moss.
He retreated back
to his hiding place.
"Rest," he thought,
"Rest for another chase"
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 11:56 AM UTC
she held me close and cooed and preened me
and held me safe from the night
from the large and troubling world
that my tiny brain could not comprehend.
those ancient hands
had seen many decades,
the raging waters sought the
liverspotted skin like a flame
seeks a moth to burn
by shining so **** bright.
She gave me dinosaurs
and quarters and
nickels and dimes,
she told me stories
and memories and
the dusty images of long abandoned time.
I sat and sat and listened and sat and
retreated into the shelter of
those far too weathered hands.
though the world was
largely storm clouds
and the incessant shouting of the thunder,
she held me closer,
covered me in her mass and
held me quickly against the oncoming storm of time.
those ancient
weathered hands
Sep 27, 2013
Sep 27, 2013 at 3:48 PM UTC
i desire for you, so badly, to fit into the fabric of my life. to let me into your deepest fears. to laugh with me when i need to be reminded that life is full of joy as much as sorrow.
even now, i wish you were sitting with me in this house by the sea. but the truth is that you’re not. you’re two thousand, three hundred miles away. even further is your heart from mine.
because the truth is that i tore you from the fabric of my heart. and i’m sorry. i know that no apology could ever bring you back. but i want you to know i am. i’m sorry i overstepped your boundaries. i’m sorry i broke your heart.
you knew it was best for you to leave. whether that is good for me, i still don’t know. but i want you to know that i want the best for you, and if the best thing for you is to not know me anymore, i accept that. i hope this distance is helping you heal.
what i do know is that right now, i am sitting in this house by the sea. watching the waves break over rocks. crashing into each other, too. my wave broke against your rock and retreated back into the ocean. and in the period when our waves superimposed, you reminded me that it’s okay to take a chance on love. that when i push people away with my vicious, vicious words, everyone gets hurt. including me. and maybe some people are not meant to love me forever. maybe some loves are just meant to pass by. but it doesn’t make them any less important.
Jul 24, 2019
Jul 24, 2019 at 2:19 AM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
The night was hot
So she retreated
To her front stoop
But things got heated
5 shots rang out
Into the night
And who got hit
You guessed it right
Dem thugs ‘n gangstas
Ain’t up to no good
Dey always
Shootin up the neighborhood
Pregnant and shot
Right through the neck
And so the ambulance
Made the trek
To the hospital
Five blocks away
Where she arrived
DOA
Dem thugs ‘n gangstas
Ain’t up to no good
Dey always
Shootin up the neighborhood
In the O.R.
It was intense
But due to God
And providence
A healthy baby boy
Was born
Torn from her womb
His mother, gone
An act of violence
Gone aerie
A pregnant woman
Caused to die
Because of someone’s
Senseless act
And nothing said
Can bring her back
Dem thugs ‘n gangstas
Ain’t up to no good
Dey always
Shootin up the neighborhood
In the O.R.
It was intense
But due to God
And providence
A healthy baby boy
Was born
Torn from the womb
His mother gone
An act of violence
Gone aerie
A pregnant woman
Caused to die
Because of someone’s
Senseless act
And nothing said
Can bring her back
Dem thugs ‘n gangstas
Ain’t up to no good
Dey always
Shootin up the neighborhood
(c) Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester. All rights reserved.
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 12:33 PM UTC
There is a bright light
That which leads to a bike
An enchanting, gravitating and inticing light
I found myself reaching for it
Then there was thunder
Which was followed by rain
Heavy, threatning rain
I retreated
I felt defeated
The surrender and defeat, however could not withstand
My gravitation towards the bike
Then, there was raging thunder
And heavy, presistent protesting rain
As I reached for the bike
The rain became more enraged
But it could not withstand
My desire
My strong desire
To ride away
With the wind blowing in my face
I grabbed the bike
The rain ceased
And I rode and rode away
Away from the dark clouds
I splashed into the puddles as I peadled
I felt the sting of the water on my legs
There were many many puddles
Im my path there was a hill
A very steep hill
And I saw a light at the top
An enchanting, gravitating and inticing light
I peadled, peadled and peadled
My feet began to ache
My knees began to inflame
And sweat found home across my forehead
The bike laid almost still on the hill
Barely moving an inch
Yet my body felt like it had rode across the world
The gears were changed
Yet the distance was not
My control of the bike was lost
I rolled away, away and away
Backwards
I fell at the bottom of the hill with a thud
A loud thud of defeat
And bruises of failure
I blamed the rain
There was nothing I could've done
The rain stood in my way
Eliminated the friction
My ticket to the light
I laid there
Then I got up
Rode the bike up the hill
I fell again
And again I got up
And again I fell
And again I got up
And again I fell
Until the bright morning sun
Transformed into a blazing sunset
After many falls
After many bruises
I was again on the steep hill
Peadling, peadling and peadling
Until I saw the light
Jul 11, 2018
Jul 11, 2018 at 9:56 PM UTC
The **** is crowing,
The stream is flowing,
The small birds twitter,
The lake doth glitter
The green field sleeps in the sun;
The oldest and youngest
Are at work with the strongest;
The cattle are grazing,
Their heads never raising;
There are forty feeding like one!
Like an army defeated
The snow hath retreated,
And now doth fare ill
On the top of the bare hill;
The plowboy is whooping—anon-anon:
There’s joy in the mountains;
There’s life in the fountains;
Small clouds are sailing,
Blue sky prevailing;
The rain is over and gone!
3.9k
and were the ears so pleased when:
the iciclic needles dug into our skins,
fleshy cloths that, sewn together,
made the mask to hide the whole.
we wore them like the cheapest of trophies,
the basest of glories and the simplest of stories.
we wore them to contrast to the whiteness of space,
the empty black white gray of life's living littleness
with the reddened hardwork of claymade shells.
they glowed with the rusty red of millions of faces
free to make their mark as they see best fit.
we had found these skins
forgotten on the floor,
and so we picked them up
with our biglittle hands
and opened the door
to newmade makings and
brand new beings.
it was empty within us--
the beings of old
and the yearnings of yore
had retreated far beneath the surface,
burrowed deep below mountains and meadows and
hills pushed up like sand in a box,
crushed against the sides of our enclosure.
it was silent within us--
the screech-making moon
sang in time to chest-beatings
and the barking of stray dogs;
the melody of moments lost in time.
Dec 25, 2012
Dec 25, 2012 at 5:26 PM UTC
Mother Nature broke her water
But the baby never came
Our inundated world
Will never be the same
We watched slowly
With a growing sense of impotence
As an elemental army
Took our innocence
Some left their homes and died
In another place
They never did return
To their own space
Politicians waded 'round
In their wellingtons
What nerve they had to even show
Their sorry skeletons
Pontificated platitudes
Filled the element of air
And those who had been flooded
Didn't really care
To hear the sly sermon
Those words were barely heard
Though so well-written
Practised and rehearsed
Mother Nature has retreated now
To her slumber state
One day soon she'll wake again
We do not know the date
Windermere 2016 February 14th
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 4:36 PM UTC
Many months had whispered by
Unbeknownst to me
The sheaths of ice retreated slow,
And buds furled from the trees.
I had not stopped to grasp and hold
The notion laying stagnant
Within my chest, there thawing too
A sunken, fading, fragment
This withered seed, this dying shoot
Lay wilting in the dark
Until my sightless, bourbon eyes
Saw what was in my heart.
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 2:15 PM UTC
Salt is the remainder of the waterfalls
which flowed down her cheek not long ago.
Canyons now line her arm, and rivers have formed at the bottom of some,
made of not water, but blood;
Like some distant nod towards a religion
which she has no faith in.
She feels the gentle breeze of her breath on her chest,
like an eerie wind blowing through a ghost town.
Her mind - the town center - is quiet and deserted now.
The once overpowering voices have retreated to their houses;
Whispering plans of their next storm.
The creation of the canyons; the formation of the rivers; the brief appearance of the waterfalls are all destruction in disguise.
And one day the aftermath will be too great to undo.
~E.Y.
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 7:15 PM UTC
The once timid
Shores of my resistance.
Fearing an inundation of the sorts
of Flotsam and Jetsam that can cure a man of loneliness,
Were trampled like soccer fans in Venezuela, when you appeared on my shore.
Certain that the fraughting souls within, were to cover me in stinking pitch.
I retreated to the hills and played the wait and see.
Waiting and watching and hoping to pray.
And when you legged your way
onto my beach,
I cried like a gangster on new years eve
Sep 14, 2012
Sep 14, 2012 at 12:48 AM UTC
I know you’re trying to forget
The lonely words we spilled
With no discussion of repercussions;
Phrases that clung to our skin
And dirtied our souls.
I don’t know if I regret it,
But the memory lingers.
You told me that you would kiss
My lips, my neck, my hips
And that you longed for the touch
Of my gentle fingertips.
We overwhelmed ourselves;
A ****** of desire with no way out.
We were the Apocalypse.
We retreated to our own lives,
Our own beds, our own friends.
I asked how you felt, where we stood now;
And you left me to wonder
Alone.
No matter how many showers I take,
I can’t cleanse myself
Of the hold you gained on me
With your gilded words late that night.
I know you’re trying to forget.
Dec 18, 2015
Dec 18, 2015 at 5:14 PM UTC
king of the sea,
with a rigorous exoskeleton peeling away
moulting causes such distress,
exposed to the thrashing undertow of the sea
and enemies
who protects you?
a callow arthropod poised on fractured shells
it isn’t your father,
balancing a bottle of brandy between his lips
or your confidant,
skidding his tires across your mind
a starfish tried,
she threw her arms round your shell
as you added new muscles underneath
she stuck her tube feet in her claws
as you brittled her skin
she said I love you
and you retreated
when you are 70
and clamouring the floor
put your arms behind your back to beckon her to you
try –
she is the sea and no one owns her.
Oct 16, 2016
Oct 16, 2016 at 3:38 PM UTC
We sat outside the coffee shop
next to a fire,
watching the sun set behind decrepit buildings.
I lamented over the lack of a roller rink in the area,
reflecting on memories of wobbling around in circles
with dizzying lights and blaring speakers
ejecting Pink, Daft Punk, and Eiffel 65 onto my critical youth.
I felt like a king.
We finished our smoothies and retreated
to an empty hotel parking lot,
where I taught her to skateboard.
One foot over the front bolts,
the back foot over two of the back bolts
but resting over the tail,
kick, push,
it's in the ***** of your feet--
weight distribution.
Tic, tac, scrape, thud--
she falls repeatedly
and gets back up.
I admire her resilience and perpetual smile--
This is what skateboarding is all about.
We roll around the hotel parking lot,
our endpoints being a lone luminescent lamppost
and a telephone pole beleaguered by a plot of shrubbery
that demarcates itself from the pavement.
We circle around the poles for hours,
forming an imaginary oblong track between the two,
our laughs carrying into the cool summer night lullaby
that sang the drowsy small town to sleep.
The fading throb of the wedding reception
at the bottom of the town square by the wharf,
carrying over to us.
The stores closed up hours ago,
silent empty windows reflecting the lonely streetlights
and our ambulance back at us.
We skated on unperturbed into the night hour.
A man walks outside the hotel
to have a cigarette on the sidewalk--
I imagine he is watching us and admiring our glee.
Rolling between this telephone pole and lamppost,
the glare and reflection of the empty silent windows,
the soundtrack singing above our heads,
our laughs, and the tic-tac of skateboards
and groaning of wheels over stubborn pavement
bringing my melancholic reverie to a halt,
recognizing and understanding happiness in the present moment--
This is my roller rink.
Jun 12, 2016
Jun 12, 2016 at 1:13 AM UTC
I recognized her familiar gait
As she left ambulatory care
At Bluewater Health,
Once St. Joseph's Hospital.
I knew her as a devout care-giver.
Her spring showed her hope
In the gods within,
And faith in her God without.
A surety in her higher power.
I share her faith crossing bridges,
Or waiting for autumn's bulbs
To sprout and flower.
The Sisters have retreated
To the Mother House,
Mission accomplished,
No longer caring
For the sick and worried.
The civilians marched in,
Diagnosing annuities,
Giving change.
The Sisters wait for Pentecost,
For the whosh and whirl
Of expectant miracles
They once ministered.
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 10:05 AM UTC
You're looking old, my friend,
and if I may say, a little sad.
Such is the nature of the honesty
our chats have always had.
And now your looking tired too,
worn down, defeated.
Where once I saw an extrovert,
I now see a man retreated.
The boy you used to be is gone,
never to come back.
The fresh faced look of yesterday,
hides 'neath stubble, grey and black.
The wrinkles now say character,
where their absence once said youth,
and eyes that once said innocence,
now show experience and truth.
That's not all, there's something else,
as if a sadness shrouds your soul.
hiding scars you cannot heal
whilst two halves remain unwhole.
But you know my friend, its up to you
and the chances that you take,
for our path is one we draw ourselves
by the decisions that we make.
Jan 14, 2012
Jan 14, 2012 at 12:02 AM UTC
We are the fingers of fog
That grasp the hilltop and
Pull the fog eyes up to see
If the sleeping valley below
Needs a blanket.
We are the mist that clings to her stream
Long after other mists have
Retreated to safety.
The mist that forsakes herself,
We are the October late-day light
That deepens the blue
And livens the green
And crowns Crimson
Your fleeting, quick-fading queen.
To distract you from thoughts
Of the cold colorlessness to come.
We are the grainy gray shadows at dusk
That camouflage the vulnerable
And vex the predator
So that the small
May scurry homeward.
We are the soft illusion
Of a bright twinkling cloud glimpse
Of the shy Milky Way
That pulls down the astral children’s shade
And hides the rage of the stars,
Indulging snug earthbound mortals
To dream their snug earthbound dreams
Under the proctor of Venus and Mars.
We are the saving grace
Between you and reality,
The light hand
Upon your shoulder
That keeps you from
Going over the edge.
Nov 5, 2018
Nov 5, 2018 at 5:37 AM UTC
A subtle carol echoes of the evening
Upon bended knee I am arrested
Betwixt strange refrains
Shaking the floorboards of Teicu
The evocative moans amplify
The foolish peacemaker of astrologists
The English dream of poetry
Those I coaxed by death
Were the witnesses of the tragedy
And were familiar with its ballad
Crafted the design ‘tis conceptual ***********
Eradicated their honor for vanilla threads
As they shimmy and shimmy
They defile elongated hankering
And retreated in the greenhouse of Woodstock
Its language made iconic by efficacious character
Having often been labeled an experiment
Broadening its brilliance along death’s boulevard
‘tis she who was the stunning one
Her language made sacred by her iconic fame
A long time controversial reference
An automaton, an origin of extraterrestrial etiology
The evocative moans ensnares the tourist
Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 10:48 PM UTC
An old angelic poet went flying
one drab and tempestuous night.
Upon the clouds he rested
as the fallen angels were in his sight.
Whence all angel's were together
Serving their mighty God.
Now separated by good and evil
By free will the hellion hadst lost.
Their spaceships were ablazed
And their crown's they wore as king's.
Their wing's we're ivory crystalline
And their thunderous aura like electricity didst ring...
A trace of cherub dust they left behind in the sky
Telepathically knowing, today their wing's shalt fly...
Chorus-
Chariot's roll
Chariot's play
Seraphim riders, in the sky.......
Their countenance unearhtly, their eye's lit
Their batas all drenched by unseen blood.
Their flying hard to get those hellion
But they've lost one of their ship's.
Because it's their duty, to protect the all powerful God
They sweep by force in by million's, with lightning bolts as Rod's.
As the chariot Master's swept by the ghouls
The ghoulies calleth out their names,
The serpahim said to the ghoulies
Go back to hell from whence thou came.
And hellion its to late to changeth thy ways, thou made a bad choice..... So the Hellion's retreated, back to their doom of fiery noise....
Chorus-
Chariot's roll
Chariot's play
Seraphim rider's in the sky,
Serpahim rider's in the sky
Serpahim rider's in the sky......
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 9:53 AM UTC
Under the grieving moon
we whispered secrets long kept.
Beneath the roaring waves
that drowned us as...
we quietly wept.
We spoke in hushed tones
of promises made to last.
Our cracked voices
melded with the echoes of a time...
of a fond memory in the past.
Water in our mouths
with words we jousted and lunged.
Heard only as hapless gurgles
and inaudible whimpers.
Unparried speculations
unsheathed and then plunged.
We cupped our wounds and retreated
knowing that we each drew blood.
We kissed with our eyes,
broke down walls
and welcomed the flood.
We wiped our cheeks
now smeared hot with tears.
Where did we err?
Who do we blame...
for dishevelled years?
We would never know...
but we must learn.
Time had shown us our mistakes
but our hearts had taught us
eternal love that burns.
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 12:44 PM UTC
The Mother Angels of Einstein's Eve heard
her shaking completely curly tresses, waiting
for the waves of the mountains' magical
colors, and beginning to undress, said,
understanding his limitations, and he retreated
to the desert, Marcus trafficking in ashes.
:- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - :
Asked for memory devices,
journalists look to the magazine
ISISToo like an angelic angel,
who has a solid table's tablet
that John describes in the water
that John describes as a hungry
Christian mother in the south,
Christian Christian light cuts into
bed and hatred, and in the shade
of the first wedding, John writes
Bettie sold out to the enemies of
the people because he planted in
Greece against angels angel Einstein
by a mother one who heard Eve fill
in the upper part of the corner,
waiting for the Hills Hills to get
water into the skin when these
magic-colored shades began to dress,
she answered, as measured by the
limitations until the reading was to
spread themselves into the ground
and report Jack's ashes scattered
throughout the desert. It depends
on the face of the world, and that
it literally means shadow shadow
shadow shadow. I think all the
wordless words are kissing: the
molecular is the girls with the dark
splinters and the calves, beginning
from the dark to light on the loaf of
**** for Satan launches the beans
placed on the socks before the Asian
Secrets that are in the patent to produce
data to meet with Lovers, and iron that
is important, and women who are soon
weeping, seat seats like Unfortunately,
for some other reason the costly assaults
over the years, the number of socks,
so long in the winter he was praying
for a streaming stream that closed
the glass glass inside the interior of the
interior, he received a 'meditation' gift,
the dreams, the, the thoughts, the singers;
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 11:16 PM UTC
Caged and shackled,
the darkness grows
a cold wind crept upon my toes
the small fire crackled
before the flame retreated
now, oh now,
I feel cheated
Unattended,
no food or drink
all I hear
is nothing but a clink
I feel my heart drop
like a stone
because I know
I'm all alone
Aug 29, 2015
Aug 29, 2015 at 6:17 PM UTC
I stared into her sea green eyes
and choked on the foam that raged up my throat
It tasted salty
like her kiss
It smelled fresh
like her crashing hugs
and I thought in that moment
that I had sipped too much of her gaze
When the water retreated
I inhaled
The air was sharp
dry
It stripped the moisture from my tongue
made my skin rough
cracked free
And I ran back to her
like a tide
My bare feet blistered on the
scorched bed of grains
until the torrent
swallowed me with a ferocity
that snatched my lungs
wrapping its waves along the membrane
Insides burst
Fluids escaped
My vessel floated away
The torrent carried me
and rocked me to the sound
of sweet stasis sung unto the deep
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 8:24 PM UTC
Everything was fine.
The friendship was steady
Our organs were just in line
Mistake from my brain was ready.
A night, a saudade night.
I was vulnerable so was my thought
At last thinking a sleep would just feel right.
Well, I got closer to the trap my brain brought.
An hour later, I found myself in in a room.
A familiar one, my chaps were there too.
I looked up I felt doomed.
Talked to my brain, yeah this is cool.
Well, we were all together,
happy and bloomed.
A friendly limerence, that's all we had for each other.
The chimera felt me like a perfume.
Suddenly, I decided to leave.
Wanted to freshen up my attire.
But was staring at myself with pure grieve.
Heard a sudden din, was a person I admire.
He stood there, just stared.
Tried interrogating him. once and twice.
But the movements were none, just eyes with care.
Now it was not just him, I too stood there just as ice.
Then his fingers caught my upper arm,
pulled me close to him.
His lips with thirst touch mine with charm.
Mine joined them too and weak were my limbs.
Merrily opened my eyes.
A weird curve ran across my face.
He stepped back, satisfyingly sighs.
Looked at me, smiled, gone were his trace.
Sudden shriek woke me up.
Perverse was what I felt.
But my brain had already ******* everything up.
Amity was surrounded by this wierd belt.
I reached, where my organs retreated.
Walked, each step filled with guilt.
The door of awkwardness met me and greeted.
stretched out my hand to open it with brain filled with jilt.
Sudden jolt, I felt.
A face, made me nervy
It was him, eyes with care and a smile with stealth.
Greeted him usually, but feelings were lively.
But I sure can't deny,
That I never wished it to be true.
Talk about it? I can't even try.
But want that feel of caress, just like a leaf groped by dew
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 9:56 AM UTC