"rippling" poems
♪♫♪♪
Your beaded snakeskin loincloth
strung beneath humid palms
cool rippling breeze that calms
our hammock hung under thatch
what a catch . . .
your Amazons running into my Congo
lost track of my bongo
back about one mile
from the sources of the Nile:
your jungle smile.
Restoring all celestial things
deep within your tropical clearings . . .
flowing slowly, going loco
at the mythic mouth of the Orinico;
shake your nut-brown biospheres
and banish all my worldly fears.
Dusk is nearing — clearing the hill
insects trilling a sinuous thrill;
the yuca half-mashed in the clay ***
the witch doctor hungover in his hut
while our little fire smolders
near the mountains of the moon
—or are they only boulders?
Come soon
Jesus, Lord of the Jungle . . .
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 9:22 PM UTC
She is mysterious, as strange as a daytime dream,
So remarkable, I see a
Princess dressed in a kimono covered with cherry blossom leaves,
Floating down river, under a canopy
Of pink and white Sakura trees.
She is so extraordinary, as unique as a double rainbow at sunrise,
So dreamy, as dreamy as a seaside sunset,
Her unconditional love scatters,
Like cherry blossoms in a fresh breeze,
Seen in rippling waves of sunshine.
So fantastical, as fantastic as a pink rose blooming in the desert,
So magical, as magical as our dreams coming true,
Princess Sakura singing, like an Angel,
She spreads her wings and flies away,
Like vanishing Sakura, leaves at the end of spring.
Princess Sakura, you will live forever in my dreams...
© 2014 Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 6:45 AM UTC
.
It's here again...
Heavy downpour...
I inhaled the rain,
cloying with petrichor.
Standing at my window,
looking out...
Street lamps struggled aglow.
People with brollies walking about.
My eyes reached out to the heavens,
tracing these glassy beads
as they'd free fall...
Falling by the sheets,
the pattering hastens,
periodically punctuated
by the thunder's call.
Mind is drifting and floating,
intently listening to a
million love wishes...
Liquid beauty...melding, sketching...
In light entrapped splashes.
Raindrops descend and come,
into my still life tonight...
Won't you will me numb,
with your chilly bite...
Wide-eyed enamour...
Catching a stray droplet or two.
Riding the tail of a zephyr,
finding a place where
no trouble could ensue.
An errant gust blew
to meet with me.
The refreshing moist
meets my parted lips...
Inhaling deep in this reverie...
Into a sea of tranquillity,
my mind slowly dips...
Sigh... If the droplets were kisses...
I would savour each and every one.
If the moist wind came and caresses
I would meet it in a tight embrace
till the break of sun.
What a sight...
Almost surreal it seems...
As the light from the surrounding
lamps dances playfully...
Dispersing and exploding into a
barrage of shattered beams.
Before it gets subdued in the drops
caught by the leaves on a nearby tree...
The drops would trickle
and fall before merging,
forming stranded puddles
unable to flow...
Rippling... Splashing... Reflecting...
An image...
Borne out of a fantastic show.
An image of beating hearts,
overlapping one another...
Speaking of consequential love
and feelings so true
Intertwined...
in the promise of forever...
Slowly retrieving itself into an...
image of you...
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 7:18 AM UTC
Lovely dainty Spanish needle
With your yellow flower and white,
Dew bedecked and softly sleeping,
Do you think of me to-night?
Shadowed by the spreading mango,
Nodding o'er the rippling stream,
Tell me, dear plant of my childhood,
Do you of the exile dream?
Do you see me by the brook's side
Catching crayfish 'neath the stone,
As you did the day you whispered:
Leave the harmless dears alone?
Do you see me in the meadow
Coming from the woodland spring
With a bamboo on my shoulder
And a pail slung from a string?
Do you see me all expectant
Lying in an orange grove,
While the swee-swees sing above me,
Waiting for my elf-eyed love?
Lovely dainty Spanish needle,
Source to me of sweet delight,
In your far-off sunny southland
Do you dream of me to-night?
18.7k
Feathers glimmer and shine
As though covered in fish oil
I lubricate the brain
As I slip through the sky
With a frictionless flicker
My lightening wings
Brain waves rapidly fluctuate
Perfect balance held
Between left and right
Each wing a hemisphere
As they beat and beat
Accelerating into hyper speed
80 to a hundred or more
Beats per second
As though injected
With a sonic speed
Synapses bursting and exploding
Exponentially connecting
Blistering wing speed
I become electric
My circuits exploring
Rippling and flickering through paper
My brain comes alive
Flashing multicolored lights
Like the cities nights
But still spaces collect around me
As I am buffered from the world
Perfectly still though standing
On an invisible ledge
I hold my mind in place
While I hum in space
Head down I drop my beak
Into a funnel of concentration
As I tunnel into trumpets
Penetrating deep I flower
In new knowledge
Polar aspects of mind
Released through coherent communication
Set free with coordination
I seek to marry chalk and cheese
As I hold the balance
Between two worlds
Flashing synapses firing
And combusting
Against pointed concentration
My mind juggles two *****
Expanding into their fullness
Expressing vibrant color
My slippery slender beak
Slips and slides in
As I flutter through pages
I discover new unexpected surprises
Problems solved, Startling adventures
And puzzles completed
I find the sugary syrup
The delicate delicious sweet spot
With the thrill of falling domino's
Spilling and cascading
Many ripples fanning out
Through my mind
I find freedom
Each ripple massaging my mind
I am catapulted into outer space
I dance from fact to golden fact
As I am propelled forward on stardust
My momentum shoots me forward
I bounce and bounce
My mind becoming unbounded
I enjoy this great Hummingbird delight
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 1:05 PM UTC
When gentle breezes turn into gale,
remember that you will prevail.
You may tear at these pages daily,
in search of peace and tranquillity.
Planting hope and scattering wishes,
Spilling blood in smears and blemishes...
Flying out of the dark on
wings of birds.
Bridging the rippling void through
severed words.
***Seeking...
Reaching...
Imploring...
Writing...***
Be not wary of eyes that speak.
Be not afraid of mouths that leak.
Know that our scribbles are only
sacred to us.
Emotions and thoughts we
bind and truss.
What we put forth, we owe it to ourselves...
Bits of us we've kept hidden in the
darkest rooms; atop the highest shelves.
You...
are wielder of your mighty pen.
You...
determine how far or long your
words would span.
Your words... They're precious gold.
Many or little; be them new or old.
So let drip your ink with little reservation...
Let us grow from strength to strength
as life teaches its lessons.
Rise up and live on in these here pages,
For here exist only
freedom;
not cages.
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 6:53 AM UTC
Selfies,
I can smell the desperation,
from here.
odors of worry;
rippling anxities of uncertainity.
two dimensional,
instantaneous impressions,
pixelated presentations,
and
Teenage frustrations.
up tilted camera.
held against the light,
Illuminating eyes ,
and eradicating spots.
that looks like a good one.
Vicarious representation;
of how good
one could look,
fallible and hopeful.
big bosomed dame
showcasing blessed cleavage,
pulsating the adolescent
bulges.
delivered to
metal passenger,
thereafter shown
among peers.
networked to unknown.
Friends who'd never
met eye,
or
touched skin,
or
even spoke.
self conscious
cropping of images.
fat and fearful.
wasted hours,
dying for love.
False dream of
captivating the messes with her selfie.
The very ugliness
of impressions.
Oh, how shallow we've became.
The denial
of the impact of aesthetics.
laughable,
torrents of judgement
Skinny,
fat,
ugly,
behold their desperate eyes behind the selfie.
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 4:35 PM UTC
The pulsating, pearl moon
Harbours the last remnants of romance,
Scintillating, in the valourous sky,
As I ceremoniously call upon the gods
To bring her back to me.
I longingly strip, craving the vivacity of her caress.
Irresistible, I would yield to the perpetual
Power of her touch.
Immersed in the shadowy depths,
Rippling serenities of thought.
I glimpse at her reflective soul,
Shimmering upon the ravenous river,
Emanating from the stars
In all their graceful radiance.
Her heart illuminates
The benevolent evening.
The breath of inevitability
Stings my skin, as I dress,
Firing my arrows of impatience
Disconsolately, into the shivering azure,
Hoping for a way
To penetrate her very being.
Nov 2, 2016
Nov 2, 2016 at 10:32 PM UTC
Sweetly loving on my lips, swooning when you grab my hips
Sweet as honey with every sip, causing my intoxication
To bite your lip, and grin at me, drowning me deeper in serenity
Your lovely tongue, oh my, a heatwave to my mind
You've awestruck me with many waves of this pleasure
Strong enough to send the innocent into whiplash
You handsome brute, taking everything else out of my sight
My legs turn to jelly when you hold me so tightly, I've lost this fight
Causing waves of commotion a force of ***** insanity forming
Let my melody drug you, Our experience won't be boring
As my seductive lips craft your every moan, calling me, echoing
Your eyes fall back and you'll fall into a rippling sensation of bliss
All along I've been your gift
Making dreams come true in just the simplicity of a kiss
Sometimes love bites
But, you like that I insist
Oct 6, 2018
Oct 6, 2018 at 11:34 PM UTC
Like rippling water distorts a reflection,
the mirror reshapes my
stomach,
thighs,
arms.
Buttons unlatch from their holsters,
The zipper loosens its grip,
Exposed are the things I despise.
Pinching, pulling, pushing.
Nothing changes, all still there.
Not so much a distorted body,
More so a distorted mind.
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 10:58 PM UTC
Their skin is translucent
Veins crawl across their skin like vines
Their builds slim but rippling with muscles
They approach
Their eyes glow red
Color of blood from a beating heart
Pumping pumping pumping
They glow brighter as they spot their prey
Greasy black wings on their backs
Reflections of screaming faces seem to show
Faces of agony and fear
Right before they feed
Angels sent to earth because heaven didn't want them their
The devil takes them in gives them power
Because he was god's favorite and he was an angel once too
Their sent to punish those
Who escaped death and punishment
To get those who deserve it most
People like you
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 6:52 PM UTC
test me
my waters have remained constant
rippling, reaching
as far as the eye can see
into the horizon; the water surrounds me
my knowledge is useless
when drowning in these waters;
i can only flail desperately
as my movements create ripples
out into the open sea
all these efforts
all in vain
all in my vein
blood rushing out
like the sea, light then heavy
then strong
like the sea, with a strong smell of salt
this time, the waters are red
and they reek of iron
test my waters
they’ve been stained crimson
with my lifeline
Mar 5, 2019
Mar 5, 2019 at 12:20 PM UTC
I am told to believe in myself
look past the flaws
imperfections,
because all those things
define the uniqueness
within my body,
my soul
but what I see
when I take that
prolonged, aching glance
into a mirror
as cloudless as a
summer evening
is everything
I am told doesn’t matter
but
how do I ignore veins
crawling up my legs like
the spiders they're named after
or
fat under my skin
that seems to expand so widely
it is impossible for my
eyes not to trip upon it
and
wide hips
unfocused gaze
gaping pores
unshaped lips
rippling marks
etched on my skin
as a form of punishment
for being myself
sloping thighs
feet like
the twin towers
giant
tall
wide
deep
is that what I am?
uncertain
unknown
unloved
but in the end just
“unique”?
human
we’re all just human
but then
why
do I feel
so
mis
understood?
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 1:52 AM UTC
Your body was wonderful.
I could cup your hipbones in my hand
and sip wine from your collar bones.
thin
slim
and beautiful
You cold never understand why I was jealous.
Until you saw my body through my eyes
rippling thighs
and curved stomach
~j.c.s
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 4:25 PM UTC
Round about is deep black darkness,
Darker than the blackest night,
Whispering deep 'n dreadful murmurs.
Bird dropped dead in midflight.
Blind and weeping, lifeless attle,
What you see is your own soul,
Burnt and weary from the battle.
Disenchanted from its goal.
In the ash, a spark she smoulders,
Crackling, rasping, wounded warrior,
Briars squeeze her neck and shoulders,
Suffocating in smog-fill'd air.
Deep within stagnating waters,
Crystal-clear elixir tear,
Movement rippling, life astir,
Phoenix rises from the slaughter.
Still she rises, Golden Daughter,
Fears no longer yonder fright,
Strength within from those who fought Her,
Blackest night turned brightest light.
Jun 20, 2018
Jun 20, 2018 at 7:04 AM UTC
Time is of the sentence, while
verbs reveal their intents
for adjective nouns (pro or no
comment) quickly in vents
meant for air, but coarseness
courses through upturned grates
shredding of courses into no ways
to go from here to home,
awaiting infinitely fine moments
caressed along necks of silken
skin within the wear of stretched out
glances left lingering still
in compassionate ponds rippling
soft warm smiles lazily by
the melting cares of the world
golden in luxuriously wrapped light
playing across the surface & through-
out into emerald encrusted irises
to cast love's shadow over
swamps of fear gurgling neuro-
toxic diatribes against plu-
perfect pasts & future
imprefects presented in a case to
Your Honor's (the jury) out of bounds
dissolved with ear ration-
al solutions mixed & stirred
thoroughly throughout,
without spilling too
much.
Feb 23, 2012
Feb 23, 2012 at 2:35 AM UTC
You should smile more.
It creates a rippling effect greater than that dark waves of your hair.
Your voice puts me in a monotonous trance.
It wakens up my soul yet could put me in a lucid dream.
That colorful sleeve on your arm reveals your true beauty
Although I cannot decipher it.
It has a way of speaking to me;
Who you are.
Oct 1, 2015
Oct 1, 2015 at 11:16 PM UTC
It was shallow water, rippling
a watery moon quivering
on the surface seen
It was night fire
burning water into steam
gray smoke screened
It was willful drowning
upon a lily bed of lies
parched a wilted garden
slowly withers, dies
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 10:56 AM UTC
#*Morning falls
from a budding
cherry tree;
the colour
of nightsong’s
waning blossom
comes to be
an echo
only heard
by the wind
Soundless remnants
of an intimate
twilight odyssey
tarry thickly,
drifting lightly
through the landscape
of dawn
The hushed echo
wields the silent
reverie
of the night,
gently rippling
the rivers that run
through the heart
The poignant taste
of passionfruit lingers
in the sensory traces
of a warm
passing breeze;
penetrating
the lonely chill
of a naked night's
work of art
~
Jesse*#
Mar 14, 2018
Mar 14, 2018 at 2:20 PM UTC
Blue Monday
BY DIANE WAKOSKI
Blue of the heaps of beads poured into her breasts
and clacking together in her elbows;
blue of the silk
that covers lily-town at night;
blue of her teeth
that bite cold toast
and shatter on the streets;
blue of the dyed flower petals with gold stamens
hanging like tongues
over the fence of her dress
at the opera/opals clasped under her lips
and the moon breaking over her head a
gush of blood-red lizards.
Blue Monday. Monday at 3:00 and
Monday at 5. Monday at 7:30 and
Monday at 10:00. Monday passed under the rippling
California fountain. Monday alone
a shark in the cold blue waters.
You are dead: wound round like a paisley shawl.
I cannot shake you out of the sheets. Your name
is still wedged in every corner of the sofa.
Monday is the first of the week,
and I think of you all week.
I beg Monday not to come
so that I will not think of you
all week.
You paint my body blue. On the balcony
in the softy muddy night, you paint me
with bat wings and the crystal
the crystal
the crystal
the crystal in your arm cuts away
the night, folds back ebony whale skin
and my face, the blue of new rifles,
and my neck, the blue of Egypt,
and my ******* the blue of sand,
and my arms, bass-blue,
and my stomach, arsenic;
there is electricity dripping from me like cream;
there is love dripping from me I cannot use—like acacia or
jacaranda—fallen blue and gold flowers, crushed into the street.
Love passed me in a blue business suit
and fedora.
His glass cane, hollow and filled with
sharks and whales ...
He wore black
patent leather shoes
and had a mustache. His hair was so black
it was almost blue.
“Love,” I said.
“I beg your pardon,” he said.
“Mr. Love,” I said.
“I beg your pardon,” he said.
So I saw there was no use bothering him on the street
Love passed me on the street in a blue
business suit. He was a banker
I could tell.
So blue trains rush by in my sleep.
Blue herons fly overhead.
Blue paint cracks in my
arteries and sends titanium
floating into my bones.
Blue liquid pours down
my poisoned throat and blue veins
rip open my breast. Blue daggers tip
and are juggled on my palms.
Blue death lives in my fingernails.
If I could sing one last song
with water bubbling through my lips
I would sing with my throat torn open,
the blue jugular spouting that black shadow pulse,
and on my lips
I would balance volcanic rock
emptied out of my veins. At last
my children strained out
of my body. At last my blood
solidified and tumbling into the ocean.
It is blue.
It is blue.
It is blue.
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 7:31 AM UTC
Droplets tap the dusty windows
Tipping pleasure on the pane
Dribbles every time the wind blows
Prophesize a hurricane
Kisses linger on the backseat
Desperate to delight in more
Suffocated by the heat, but
When it rains, it starts to pour
Panic storm that quickly closes
Smashing waves upon the sand
Tension tearing up the roses
Stuttered poems, shaking hands
Though the pressure keeps you floating
And the ocean licks its shore
There's no way of sugarcoating
Once it rains, it has to pour
Stick a finger in your ceiling
Let the plants hang onto youth
Sunday jazz, petrichor feeling
Hear it tripping on the roof
Smell it shifting all around you
Leaking through your drying veins
Leave your stagnant dragonfly blue
Open up into the rain
When it rains, it pours
I'll blossom being yours
Downpour cleans the ***** traffic
Rippling madly down the drain
Paints the artist something graphic
While he's waiting for the train
Laughter echoes in the morning
Licking soil and clouds to raw
From the vision that's been dawning
Once you rain, it has to pour
Spitting bombshells pelt your raincoat
Tears in quiet pools of green
Holes inside your getaway boat
Water's sweet but can be mean
You've avoided all the warfare
But the stars rampage for more
Douse the thin comfort you still wear
Once it rains, it starts to pour
Stick a finger in your ceiling
Give the plants a thirsty truth
Fairy lights and freedom feeling
Tunes of our torrential youth
Smell it changing all around you
Bursting through the shrivelled veins
Leave your crippled summertime hue
Open up into the rain
When it rains, it pours,
I'll bloom so much being yours
We're a perfect storm, I guess
Fire has been stopped with less
When it rains it has to pour.
Oct 29, 2018
Oct 29, 2018 at 2:46 PM UTC
she described it as ice
in her chest
like
a lance that tightroped from
her chest to mine
fought over at the breakfast table
because her end was bigger than mine
or mine had more blood than hers
or she always got to look at my good side
and why couldn’t I look at her without laughing
mother always said it was a blessing
that two people were so close to each other
not through birth
but by journey
and life
and happenstance
two people that tasted grilled cheese the same way
that heard the same voices of joy
loss
despair
but always stuck to the roof of the mouth like peanut butter
and not the generic brand
no
the 10 dollar organic stuff
two people that couldn’t help but
crack jokes at the dinner table
when everyone else was talking about
death because
what is death without life?
she would ask
and everyone would go silent
and float up through the
limitless sky
while we stayed grounded in
the life that whiskey brings
sister
if you ever hear me calling
know that I’d give you the bigger half
every time and that
you may borrow my three-hole puncher
without asking
because
I love you
and love stitches time without holes
and moments without the train station goodbye
and the rocks
well
they will always be rippling the stream so you
can go whitewater rafting and I can write poems
about how you fell in and found
a fleck of gold
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 3:56 PM UTC
Like a toddler taking maiden steps
The narrow stream moves through the woods
Tripping and falling over pebbles and boulders
Chiming its silver anklets
Forcing itself in irrepressible flow
It thrusts and shoves its way down
Through thickets and a line of ferns
And the tangle of creepers and thorny brambles
Drowning the whisper of bamboo leaves
Its sweet murmur falls in my ears
As an eternal living melody
The cosmic song heard over eons
As the water sluices down the rocks
It becomes a frothing braided torrent
Producing a harsh grating roar
Like the crescendo of a tribal symphony
There it forms into a small pool
With its waves gently rippling
Where birds merrily come to take a dip
And sunning their feathers, fly back refreshed
Sometimes travelling unseen
It suddenly emerges into the open
Cutting its way through cracks and fissures
Never willing to surrender before hurdles
With a bearing immaculate in grace
It sends out waves of pure delight
What joy it is to watch the dilly dally
Of this sedate pilgrim moving to its destination
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 10:07 AM UTC
awakening with the gradual rise
of the subdued heather hued sun
a palpable spectral silence permeated the air
the anticipation of celebration intercepted
by an enveloping phantom black malaise
hiding in obscure shadows
the terror of the twin towers final doom
elucidated quivers of melancholic nuances
rippling through the greying vicinity
my birthday september 11th a tuesday
my night to sing at abravanel hall
with the utah symphony
unable to serenade death
our voices remained indubitably silenced
in hushed wistful reverence
ensuing 9/11s channel somber sentiments
cloaked with annihilation while
dark visions occupy smudged iphone screens
this anniversary i will dissipate despair
transmuting dark despondency
splashing all with lucent petals of delight
i’ll live this day with passionate intensity
and those subsequent with equal ardor
ferociously painting back the light
i will raise my voice with effervescence
and sing in wild abandon
for my precious brothers that were lost
demonstrating devotion through a refusal
to be silenced by fear bestowing honor
with a conspicuous message that love wins
©2016janetaylor
Sep 11, 2016
Sep 11, 2016 at 6:22 PM UTC
two women
a single
Gemini
of desire
the yin
the yang
betwixt
the known
and unreachable
swinging
on wide
arcs of
extremis
inhabiting
opposite
polar worlds
and all
the spaces
in between
intrepid
sailors
dare hope
to explore
T
the outer
R
the inner
T’s
tiny
name
betrays
a big
robusto
femininity
bombastically
womanly
big *****
jazz *****
perfumed musky
hips and ****
that rock
and those
lips
oh,
those ruby red
Norma Jean lips
I’m puckered
up
begging her
to paste a big
rouge smooch
on my eager lips
press those
bustling bosoms
onto my face
wrap those
arms round me
with a rasperous
hug
shake me
with gyrations
of your gracious
shimmy thang
you wow
the bow
out of this
dog
taking lovers
prisoner
with the
coy blink
of wide
eyes
flashing
lashes
batting
brow
boldly
being
a force
of a
mothers
nature
bearing
and
belting
Bessie’s
*****
blues
to a
howling
crowd
wanting
more
fully
enthralled
bedazzled
enraptured
with quixotic
hypnotics
I'm frozen
solid
hoping to
melt
into the
heat
of your
inviting
fire
R
bespeaks
whispers
from an
inner place
she lines the
lost desires
of a yearning heart
she offers the
softest curves
the delicious touch
the wet presence
of a delicate tongue
limpid fingers
hide shy sly
*******
offering
invitations
to hidden nests
humming the incarnate
dark forest secrets
of bloomed lilacs
and sweet carnations
the voice of poems
dance and flutter
from her mouth
as the lightest
butterfly
wings wayward
onto soft hearts
yearning
seducement
her
kimono
gently parts
at the slightest
suggestion
of a rising
breeze
her songs
invite lovers
to pillowed
chambers
daring
intrepid
men to
risk the
death of
desirous
tempests
I melt
into the
delicate
complexity
of your
fleshy heat
my dear
celestial
twins
the lovely
Gemini
each different
reduce me
in differing ways
to a puddle
of rippling water
reflecting
the glorious
elegance of
wondrous
ambrosial
femininity
Dedicated to
T& R
Music Selection:
Barbra Streisand
Pretty Women
Oakland
4/26/12
jbm
Apr 29, 2012
Apr 29, 2012 at 10:56 PM UTC