"rivered" poems
How shall I discover, uncover, and re+cover you?
the goal?
to make you mine, a follower. a fan, an intimate, a lover of'
each others (words?)
My options?
offered thee three to me!
A~Z,
or
your successes by
Popularity!
then of course,
read each crafted in order
of appearance,
but even that,
can be forward and back,
latest to last~est,
oldest to the knowing~est?
value your insightsfuls,
oh! on how to get best
into your insides but through
your
insights...
do I detect a tiny tremble,
in your finger writing tips?
random < in no particular order order> helter skelter?
you mean, be keen, like falling in loving,
discovering, the nuances,
old and new, prior and au courant,
just jump in, and let the au current
take me//
mmm
do admit, like a bit,
being big fandom of random,
which feels a tad like falling in love...
when the little surprises,
come best unexpectedly
tonight,
I will stuff myself with carbohydrates of additional sugar,
me love me sweets,
love me my bittersweet chocolate of triste,
which in english, has multiple levels of
most interesting con-
notations....
so down the hole,
who knows what will be
discovered
unveiled,
recovered,
hidden weaknesses,
historic strengths,
you asked...
and I shall be
the uncoverer
of the little tidbits,
that satisfy so much more
than just poetic simplistic curiosity
it is no wonder to me
that prolific and profile,
are rooted from the same
rivered source...
until later, then
sad eyed lady of the lowland (see note)
Sep 10, 2025
Sep 10, 2025 at 5:08 PM UTC
Another Graceful Mentor guides my Side
To ensure my Skills fly in Good Respect
Those Rivered Words; Service and Satisfy,
Two Stone Codes to keep Clients out of Debt
And fortunate I was to keep this New
Thanks to your Report of Knots I un-weave
Press well on Speed; But keep Quality true
To hear Smiling Faces before they leave
I'll keep my Silence; And Pray all goes well
As the Bond between in Profession last
A Basket I learned from your Talents sell
With hope that Demotion will come to pass.
All which I gathered, I'll keep in my Bank,
The worthy Deposit your Aid I thank.
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 2:56 AM UTC
I have always been in love with you
Though I've never seen your face
Rivered streets and thoroughfares
Cathedrals and marble shining glaze
Burgundy, sunsetted copper walls
Slanted clay tiles that shine like flame
Thick lushes of emerald'ed halls
Weaving into arcs of grape'd frame
Vineyards pouring over daykissed hill
Wine as red as dye and rich as gold
Flesh of bread, warm, at corners spill
Into the walks where it is sold
Dear Italy, my love, you torment me
Slipping your fingers 'round my heart
And all I have is pictures yet to be
And hope that we shall not long be apart
Feb 11, 2010
Feb 11, 2010 at 7:31 PM UTC
It's snowing tonight,
and I think ********* Dad,
when Maryland beats Indiana
and I move to text him.
He's beyond snow now.
So what do I do with these
unbearable photos he took
of me standing alone
in the withered sun
on monumental trains,
I was six or seven,
out by the rusting roundhouse
in Brunswick?
It's been snowing for hours
& I carve a footpath
out to the unplowed street
to watch the shining gray
banks under the amber light.
There is no route to carve
through this silence.
My father was made of ghost towns,
from Manzanar, from the endless
pine-dark of Idaho's rivered night,
from all the unmapped places,
he grew complete in himself.
And even now as I watch
the snow slant and stumble
I am left behind as his son
apart from him and without.
The snow dives into the
night blankness and I wonder
if I had died first, cutting short
this reckless careless crooked sprawl,
would he be writing here?
The smeared gray glow
of the screen across his hands,
the fat flake snow rising
like dough beneath the windows?
Dec 31, 2018
Dec 31, 2018 at 3:20 AM UTC
Sometimes I cry for you
And sometimes I cry for me
But my eyes leak for us.
Fish cannot fathom the rivers I have created for Us.
The Us that runs to me like a child with open arms
but I am tired
too tired to pick Us up
spin Us in the air
make Us a laugh..
It needs water
but my spirit is parched.
It needs food
but my storeroom -heart is empty.
I want You
to meet Us
I want Us
to spend time with You and I.
I fathom fantasies that can turn
a U into a W
and a S into an E…
Nov 12, 2011
Nov 12, 2011 at 11:19 AM UTC
This is a poem
made by her hand
a poem of marks
you can read
left to right
right to left
any which way
an ascemic script
it tells a tale
late in the day
beside a river still
sunlit clouds vast
in a Maytime sky
down on the mud
and shingled shore
these found things
arrived at her feet
as they do when
waiting for her
dear hand’s touch
upon their metalled
forms rusted and
rivered by the daily
tides the diurnal
wash and dry of
weather and watered
river mud-coloured
beside boats bedded
in the river bank each
plaqued to remember
thirty wooden boats in all
that plied a river’s journey
there and back once
to and fro now
charged up high
on Pulton shore
a motorized trow
a top-sail schooner
Edith and the
New Despatch
steel and concrete
barges Severn Collier
and Mighty Monarch
lying hard into the silt
a yard at rest
a grave of vessels
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 11:41 AM UTC
I know I was never kissed by the sun,
but all I've ever had was the moon's love;
my mother's arms were the only strong ones
that held skin untouched by father above.
The night sky never rivered down my spine,
but I had it pooled between my lashes.
Pearl teeth, lips the color of blush wine;
who I am has to be just the ashes...
I must be a phoenix about to soar,
there is no other way to explain it:
I've beauty, but not yet, but like before.
I am of the sea foam, not sand sunlit,
not like her. She is father's favorite kiss,
her hair's darker than an ocean floor,
her lips are full and warm and hot and bliss.
She's beauty, just like now, not like before.
She's on your lips but I am in your arms.
Touch me with the fingers that long for her,
listen to me with ears full of her charms...
Her name is what you call in drunken slurs.
If my heart did break, it made no real sound,
but spun and twisted me tight to my knees,
there I pledged my mother and became moon-bound,
dancing bare in her light in the slight breeze.
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 10:03 PM UTC
this semi-seemingly sad refrain~reflection, more truth than
one can even understand,
for my physical self slowly
disappearing, diminishing
though no visible pieces
as of yet,
gone missing
few of you have come to visit me
in NYC, so you cannot be sure of
anything you’ve been told, for the
great liar claims, the internet bleeds
disinformation believe this
if nothing
else
for I’ve been a dream from my very
naissance, a vision imaginable by
those who contemplate my whereabouts,
my visages, we bemused, while
you imbibe, tongue |taste
mrs
written bouche amusante
well,
if you want them pieces & parts,
poems in the fleshes,
seek outa one eyed guy patched
by a rivered walk path,
see a troubadour on his soap box
amusing the real peoples
who pause to reflect
cause
them
give respect to his peculiarities,
listen to his truths bout
himself and them
selves too
if you can’t camp this far,
then believe in your dreams
cause my come and go,
fly out the window
and have reached as far as
the Phillipines, New Zealand &
the Land of Oz
I’m their break from the news,
indeed call me ‘the new news,’
which so cool, makes us laugh,
cause there ain’t no much new
by this foolish OG, ‘cept for the
rhythm of and blues, I spin, the rhymes
that they fet/met/net me with dollar bills,
loose change and half used joints in lieu of cash-is-trash
So I dream, they dream,
together we scheme,
each of us composing,
in separate and equal
prepositions preposterous
and share all who to be heard,
especially those who wish to also
have their dreams be
seen
Nov 17, 2024
Nov 17, 2024 at 7:54 AM UTC
In the centre
This i
Of this infinity
Which knows
No centre.
Rust and dust flow rivered
In time honoured ways
As if movement meant
That centres shift
And that this i,
Laughingly called,
Pretends
An only bell,
Audible to all
Unreal
Sep 27, 2017
Sep 27, 2017 at 2:46 AM UTC
Hey you! Yes, you. Exactly.
You mesmerize me.
You confuse me when you use me and disuse me and then amuse me.
You convince me you love me when you hold me and then grab me to leave me
Grieving, mourning in the morning while you're yawning
Cause I know, for you, that's boring.
Caring? Yes you used to
Back then when you took me into
Your heart and wrapped me inside
And kept me beside..you.
F*ck you I miss you
I despise you, I want you I don't need you
No leave me alone. Go away.
I love you, when you love me too
But you barely do - to me what you do to him.
Singing love lullabies for him
Teasing, touching, squeezing, riding
Crying when finding he's cheating
Unyielding when told to ditch him.
Attaching. Detachment you explored when emotions implored your grievance to drown your core-heart deep in these blood rivered wounds.
I deplored this.
Vulnerable, you felt safer in his brutality
When pieces of your shattered dreams
Were drilled beneath your shredded skin.
Love was and is what you need.
But from him?
Love is devoid of gleam.
And with him, chances of a Romeo and Juliet are slim.
Oct 9, 2016
Oct 9, 2016 at 7:18 AM UTC
i note the (needle loved) slender limbed crooks
of
fresh cut stems loitering. by the stone towers.
black rivered arms of elbows in grass puddles
giggle lipped they ***** smiles; fill the greedy
hearts an ember of false heat to glow numbly
the fire sticks smokey breathe exhaled suddenly
gather to their lush valleys the wagging tongues
of all the pretend men. who are naught but boys
in the pink *** light that streams from dainty *******
so glad am i no longer slaved to that heed. and find my
mind in soft palm of my waiting
lady
Jun 8, 2010
Jun 8, 2010 at 2:07 PM UTC
I watch you sitting at the window
of your 3rd floor apartment
while I sit on a bench at the end of the park
collecting the currency of poems.
I have a cup out, yes, but I'm looking for
spare words
some inspiration from someone who has too much
will share with me
but it's a cold night
those who pass by look away
keep silent.
So I look at you, your long brown hair
rivered around your shoulders-
how liquidly it moves when you turn your head
I can see now, you're talking to someone in the room
as if you wished they would keep quiet.
You have a window to look out of
this is what your life's about
and I'm watching you living it.
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 9:53 AM UTC
medusa medusa,
let down the lair
medusa medusa,
let down your hair
so said the last one
go find his head
bring it back to me
my own true love
well, my sweet heart,
between you and the lair
I'd be better off
in love with
the lair
you your own self know
this to be true
but I pledged for life
I'm still here
& then
I am:
the first man to touch you
the way you wanted me to
so I am waiting for you
I will stand here and I will wait
I have wanted you for ten thousand years
no vipers could stop me
who are you fooling?
fake snakes with those
cheap black pearl tears
nothing will stop me
but you, so say the wyrd
but you never will
I love you
always and still
it remains three over three
a hand upon a moment
nothing but rivered memory
wrung out in sodden time
more to follow, years of it
where will you hide it all?
May 5, 2018
May 5, 2018 at 1:11 AM UTC
To She
who whet
the corven wing,
her skin pulled back
an open firth unraveling
her scarlet mood
the first
among the thirsting.
To Her
that swallowed whole,
the rye, the blade
that clipped the startled shoulder,
carpal deep in gleaming brine,
who shivered time a potent pleasure,
Garlanding
the golden hurt,
that life was
never hers..
Beholden to
a tethered ransom
rivered in her stars...
May 26, 2021
May 26, 2021 at 12:54 PM UTC
Ode to the road.
See you and your rivered mind.
Sought out in cyan.
And cry for the drift in your eye.
Made for.
The groove.
The tremolo in your pace.
Rose hue to your face.
And the sea to your shirt.
The one you got in Olympia.
Garrett Johnson.
Feb 7, 2020
Feb 7, 2020 at 11:35 PM UTC
scratches marr the mirror
rain rivers my window
so much is tangential
in my view.
my yearn is to know
truth
learned from fidelity
what substance have I
when straight ahead is rivered
and reflection scoures
me
Jul 6, 2016
Jul 6, 2016 at 3:12 AM UTC
Languid fish
moving just enough
to stay still
in the current
They explain
in the sun
to river moss
and rivered rocks
the minimal
nature of flow
and balance
in quiet form
Water swimming by
appreciates
not being
held up
Says so with cool
caresses
fish desires
and stone fears
Jul 6, 2019
Jul 6, 2019 at 8:41 AM UTC
this semi-seemingly sad refrain~reflection, more truth than
one can even understand,
for my physical self slowly
disappearing, diminishing
though no visible pieces
as of yet,
gone missing
few of you have come to visit me
in NYC, so you cannot be sure of
anything you’ve been told, for the
great liar claims,
the internet bleeds
disinformation,
believe this
if nothing
else
for I’ve been a dream from my very
naissance, a vision imaginable by
those who contemplate my whereabouts,
my visages, we bemused, while
you imbibe, tongue |taste
mes
written bouche amusante
well,
if you want them pieces & parts,
poems in the fleshes,
seek outa one eyed guy patched
by a rivered walk path,
see a troubadour on his soap box
amusing the real peoples
who pause to reflect
cause
them
give respect to his peculiarities,
listen to his truths bout
himself and them
selves too
if you can’t camp this far,
then believe in your dreams
cause my come and go,
fly out the window
and have reached as far as
the Phillipines, New Zealand &
the Land of Oz
I’m their break from the news,
indeed call me ‘the new news,’
which so cool, makes us laugh,
cause there ain’t no much new
by this foolish OG, ‘cept for the
rhythm of and blues, I spin, the rhymes
that they fet/met/net me with dollar bills,
loose change and half used joints in lieu of cash-is-trash
So I dream, they dream,
together we scheme,
each of us composing,
in separate and equal
prepositions preposterous
and share all who to be heard,
especially those who wish to also
have their dreams be
seen
Dec 7, 2024
Dec 7, 2024 at 7:21 AM UTC