"rythmn" poems
#
*Laying in bed all day
with silky thoughts
in a champagne haze
**An empty glass of water
rests barren on the floor
her eyes light up
as he enters
through the door**
With every stride
across the room
whispered lyrics
begin to bloom
In an encore
from the night before
in her memories
now begins
a brand new score
**Thrums echo
as the rythmn keeps
time inside each beat
slight murmurs crescendo
and a long symphonic
overture erupts**
He draws his notes
in the cream of her curves
Dismantling her inhibitions
soothing her nerves
Tongues in a waltz
senerading to thunderous beats
in a rhythm more shattering
than the rolling waves of the Sea
**Lights flicker
as his eyes roll
visions of grandeur
in tow breathless
they gasp for air
not wanting this moment
to soon disappear**
Driving urgency tenderly drizzle
ending one where the other begins
melting in the stillness
of tangled bodies and limp limbs*
#
Jun 4, 2018
Jun 4, 2018 at 8:24 AM UTC
On the massive Shoulders of Microsoft
are...
Children's games
Search for names
Weather reports
Scores for Sports
Travel news
Rythmn & Blues
Hotel prices
Adult Devices
Chinese Quisine
Night Scene
Machine Screw's
High Heeled Shoes
Butter Knife
Future Wife
Candy Crush
Makeup Blush
Family Tree
Spending Spree
Natural Pearls
Web Cam Girls
Rental Hall
Disco *****
Dance Clubs
Irish Pubs
Paternity Tests
Financial Invests
Mortgage Brokers
On Line Poker
and, so much more.....JMF 2/21/15
Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 9:15 AM UTC
Foggy breeze through my
fingertips when sunburnt days
seem coveted in memory.
When the columbines came back from the dead.
Burnt up cities...
The last glimpse of
firefly lights grew dim behind me
The trees sprouted everywhere like stardust
The pillars I once worshipped
in incense with amulets
became faded ruins...
The weathered walls texture
were like sequins with no glimmer
I escaped again to a place with green lakes and forrests of pines
It's quieter up here in the
mountains
Like a shudder through the
window
I hear the old house moan all
through the day and all
through the night
The sunlight pierces through
the blinds
illuminating his face
which is already illuminated
But you're my bumblebee
that insignia- a honey gatherer
If you subtract the intimacy
out of ***
Nothing's left, but
hollow mechanical *******
Stealing the rythmn from
the music
Sturdy as a beam I lay
Unable to grasp at anything
It's just noise
Sweaty day, shivering nights-juxtaposed
It's like living on Mercury
In decomposition like a basket of rotten lemons
Past conversations crush their
weight against my open ribs
No parent teacher or friend
told me how all consuming the sensation would be...
Dazed eyes staring through
disheveled blinds,
I was dropping rose buds off the
second floor balcony in the night
They hit the scratchy asphalt
like a gentle meteor shower
Monotonous nights replay
the same phases
That moon...
A face splashing
from gibbous to crescent
Waning on my malady
Always stirring like a steady torch
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 2:40 AM UTC
"The Gathering Storm"
Shifting, churning, swirling, .... the breeze comes spritely
from the slate colored billows of the thunderclouds.
A gentle whisper at first,..... then building to a crescendo,
tickling the underbellies of leaves..... and rolling them over.
Bending the supple tips of branches to a rythmn
unknown to any author of music.
A rythmn of nature following no rules.......
and knowing no bounds.
What reason shall it follow,....
when the flapping of a sparrows wings,
And brief stirring of the air by a single bird,
......a half continent away
Shall have a cause and effect on what...
we feel pulsing against our exposed skin.
Is it not so with us,.... each one of us as a single sparrow,
flitting about and mingling with other creatures
Shall we not have an effect on that,.... that we touch
with our alterations of what is... and what was
We can only have hope,.. to manage the chaos
of the seeds that we sow... and the sprouts of our intellect.
Not knowing what will grow from our aspirations of changing that
that is .... to that,... that we dream it to be.
Shall we dare to become the God that we have worshipped .....
Shall we dare become the ... Sheperd's of the universe.
Perhaps, !! ..... but we must lay down the rules and know the bounds.
Let us not forget,..... we are but caretakers
for the creations of a greater spirit.
"The Gathering Storm"
Written By Dennis Gilchrist
Aug 30, 2011
Aug 30, 2011 at 9:07 AM UTC
~
a gateway approaches,
from just 'round the bend;
in this march of months,
that are nearing the end.
here autumn's shedding,
of its shimmering gown;
from sun-kissed warmth,
under broad leafy boughs;
where in shady spaces,
summer's solace is found!
but now comfort is sought,
in gazing within, and
in harvesting thoughts,
'neath sun-starved skin;
where if we are wise,
care will be taken,
to channel our musing,
into gratitude's music.
carefully shaping,
the sum of our notes;
stringing our lines, in
a score full of hope!
preparing the soul,
for the wintery chill;
compelling the spirit, to
see life through goodwill!
a courageous knowing,
finds a way to be still; in
the altitude of gratitude,
an antidote to winter's pill!
for in the zenith of night,
come the sounds of lullaby;
and in the absence of light,
whispers of a coming cheer.
solitary voices blending,
to the rythmn of a beat;
a heavenly choir singing,
a chorus growing strong;
opening the season's door,
illuminating advent's song!
~
in post script
these musings represent muliple seasons of observations, soul considerations in how to articulate what my heart knows to be true. so with every year that ages this soul, i become more convinced that the season of thanksgiving may in fact be the very greatest antidote for selfishness, a precursor for advent, the season of giving and receiving; and that if approached properly, our hearts are best positioned to embrace the truest meanings of the coming season of light!
sending peace and love to those who embrace these walls as sacred space!
Dec 8, 2024
Dec 8, 2024 at 1:54 AM UTC
the house is making,
noisy demands, this morning
that i feel i am, unable to meet
the microwave,
is bleating about the coffee steaming, standing, waiting,
on it's spinning table
the washing machine,
is singing a smug little jingle.
job complete. washing done,
are'nt i neat!
the dryer,
whirring, sighing, thumping,
slumping,
to a rythmn all its own.
the roomba,
is doing,
the
rhumba,
all the way
down the
hall.
the computer,
dings and sings
you have new mail.
and worst of all
the alarmclock,
has told me.
i have,
met my quota,
of snooze recalls.
so,
now,
i have to,
get up and face it all.
how i wish,
for the days,
when the
house mechanics,
went about their work,
in quiet and dutiful ways.
requiring no praise at all.
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 7:13 PM UTC
Lying quietly
The sea comes to wash
Over
The sin's
In my heart
Lying quietly
I see your truth
and i love this
Lying quietly
I hear
The rythmn of your soul
My eyes
Betray me
And the sea washes
My truth away
Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 10:44 AM UTC
We walked on fields of hellish amber,
our bare toes scraping barbed wire.
we held our naked palms out flat
so that they might feel the air thick with dust.
We walked in the black rain, dying our hair a sooty grey
and leaving vertical wrinkles on our cheeks.
We walked towards the end.
We watched the phoenix plumes rise up
then crescendo in an extinguishing fire.
we saw the mountains crumble, as if tired,
and lay in purplish rest.
We saw the shining sea stir against the coasts
and eat back the Earth.
We touched hands,
and we walked towards the end.
We saw a billion mouths demanding, reprimanding,
consuming and presuming, quiet to a hum.
We saw them crumple on driveways and in shopping malls,
murmuring so many names to the same effect.
They were still then,
but we,
we walked towards the end.
We trudged in our clothes,
shreds of some past life
we left there in the ashes.
We walked under the studded sky pierced by skyscrapers,
peeling back as easily as skin.
There, the torn fabric waltzed in a hissing breeze,
burning orange at the bulging seams.
Lopsided stars hung askew as decorations
and cartwheeled to the steady rythmn of gunfire.
Swaying, we danced along,
as we walked towards the end.
Scorched prairie grass crumbled beneath our feet.
Ringing filled us, and we broke cleanly in two.
Asphalt melted and mingled with the crust
and buildings knelt to pray.
We laid down side by side,
brushing our fingertips.
The sky bled lukewarm tears above us.
We knitted our hands together
and unfolded ourselves upon packed dirt,
black and singed,
as angels stitched the lacerated heavens.
We rested, tiny scars on Earth's craggy face.
We nicknamed every star and every worm,
orange with nuclear light.
Laughing, we closed our eyes,
flowing with the fire and the night.
Our hands were sure and firm,
as we drifted out of sight,
fading towards the end.
May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 1:57 PM UTC
What is a territory
That can be owned
But a place where man
Has placed boundaries around the land
And announced that he own it
The land is the heart
And no one can own
Send your spirit flying
Above the boundaries
That man creates and you will see
There are no territories
that do not belong to life itself
And as you are a beat
In the rythmn of the heart
Of life
You are forever connected
To that territory
That you feel lies broken at your feet
It is not broken
But reflecting also on mans desire .....
Jan 16, 2011
Jan 16, 2011 at 3:06 AM UTC
I see love
Where love can not be found
I find sadness
where no one hears a sound
I see
The silent scream
within that young girls womb
I hear
The heart that broke all too soon
I feel
The child
Who is left out in the cold
Fathers a drunk
Mother
well she is nothing but a fool
I feel the hunger
I cant stand the pain
*How all of humanity
leaves each other out in the rain*
I am the eye
I am the truth behind your smile
I am the rythmn
I am the soul of man
I will be the one that wipes away the tears
I will be here through out the years
Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 11:37 AM UTC
They say when you find something that changes your life for the best, keep it
They say when you see a Rainbow in the sky, stop and look for a minute, it doesn't appear everyday
The say when you walk down a road full of dust and it starts to drizzle, for a few minutes don't run, let it wash over you
Many a times I come by souls that make me smile
But you, make me Glow
Souls that help me up, but you, carry me in your arms
Souls that sing songs for me, but you, create the rythmn of it
Beauty can be defined by many adjectives and verbs,
but the Beauty of a soul like you, no human invented letter can explain.
You've taught me to stand on my feet
Taught me that crying is okay, but wiping them off and building a bridge over it is a step
You've taught me that maybe, I may not be there today, but soon enough, with a little effort everyday, I will get to where I want to be.
And each morning, I wake up feeling better than the day before.
Though we have our bad times, its nature of life, you have loved me through it all.
Never gave up on me.
And I,
will forever be grateful, to you. My beloved.
©TheUnspoken
Aug 6, 2015
Aug 6, 2015 at 12:40 PM UTC
I saw sparks fly in her eyes
As her eyes melted mine.
Her hand in my hand,
Our pulse, dropping like a bass line.
Our hearts, bumping like a drum line
Our shadows dancing in my truck lights.
You sang along with every song.
Im falling hard in the dark, beneath that old pine.
Girl, The way you move,
Has me wanting to hold you tight.
And love you baby all night.
Non-stop,
Feeling your body pulsing up against mine.
All night,
Working your body until the Sun rise.
Cause... girl you got,
Emerald waves crashing
In your green eyes.
Little crystal, rain drops falling,
As your hair dries.
We fight the fire inside, until it feels right.
I lay you down, turn the lights down low and the speakers up high.
I let the steam settle,
A little,
Before I make the heat rise.
You let my hands explore your body,
Slowly,
While I blow your mind.
I lift the tempo,
Gently.
Watching your pleasure rise.
You wrap your legs around mine
While i hold you tight,
We catch our breath together,
Silently.
Looking up at the sky.
Our hearts beating to the rythmn, of the crickets, as they cry.
Cause...girl, you got,
Emerald waves crashing
In your green eyes.
Little crystal, rain drops falling,
As your hair dries
Taking your breath, your chest pressed against mine.
Stealing your innocence,
While you stole my heart that night.
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 6:59 AM UTC
He said :-
This love's a place I cannot live
and the prison I can't escape,
for my love you freely sacrificed
and my dreams you nightly ****
You are the pillow on my face
you are the needle in my arm,
you are the bullet in the brain
and the pills within my palm.
But I could never hate you babe
I could truly ner' be free,
for you are the rhyme and rythmn
that flows inside of me.
So I am holding on and digging in
holding you and holding ground,
for I know you feel the same way babe
at having me around.
So plump the pillow roll my sleeve
aim straight and swollow hard,
and when we play the hand we're dealt
I will be your joker card.
So holding on to promises
holding ground whilst holding you,
I will take life's slings and arrows
and see this sentence through.
Aug 6, 2012
Aug 6, 2012 at 8:06 AM UTC
I know a lepricorn named Somhairle
He whisles a daft irish song
And I thought I'd name my son after him
thought hed grow up short but god I was wrong
He sings the irish rover while strumming
The rythmn and blues
I told him if he was a good lad
He could pay for me to go on a cruise
He starts a new job next friday
Down at dockerty doos
He cant ****** play violin
But he sure can down lots of the *****
Nov 6, 2010
Nov 6, 2010 at 11:50 AM UTC
A Feller's Opera
She sits upon
a bracken grave
with arms like
twisted thorns,
weeping in the
undergrowth
the soprano
widow mourns,
singing
haunting melodies
portentous
and forlorn,
the dying forest
will gaze no more
on sunsets
nor misty dawns.
Her haunting voice
will echo
'tween hollow trees
she calls,
a crescendo of
crotchet splinters
over timber
acres sprawl,
to summon
silent her aria
as mighty oaks
then fall,
to rise no more
in glory,
to stand no more
so tall.
Whirring,
snapping,
crashing down
as the whip
of progress cracks,
rolling,
beating
like a drum,
carving its
gruesome track,
a tympany
of lumberjacks
wave their batons
like an axe,
to the rythmn
of a wooden heart
as the wistful
chorus hacks.
Sweet the sound
of wailing song
across the land
does sweep,
devastating
landscaped eyes
in eerie silence
shall weep,
'tis her prelude
to the end of time,
that was never hers
to keep,
she sits upon
a bracken grave
to cry herself
to sleep.
©RJVHorton2014
Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 3:34 AM UTC
old.... still,
kind,
strength steps in,
new paradigms to be created
all in long, past passion
yet still able,
yet ever will able,
to grow wisdom,
they...out there beyond
find new a rythmn
and purpose
is it to be....
on all varigated,
arangements..... a new twist
perhaps....
some order, to the paradox
of the aboves.
what our...
never-ever-never world
should be,
we are a realm of
be all, end all, have all.
elephant's, we are to faded parchment memories.
the mouse within,
loves a quiet,
realm of the wise....
and careful, considered...
thought
but you...you....
fall beneath the thunder
of my steps...
in vain attempts,
to gain insight into
the hyperbole of my elephant's spinning dance
and the back scratching monkey's never silent thought's
initiating as they be,
into the colour spectrum
of the latest...
popular...populace, fearful fancy.
be quiet as needs be,
says the mouse
the world will...
awake to wisdom,
spend fruitful time...
awaiting the calm to break
never is it above strength
allowed
the roles, the gifts,
we are given.
be in on the elephant's new rythmn
and far above the monkeys purile, speculation
need, need, needs,rememeber awlays... quiet, desperate passion,
and to fall gently
beneath the winds of change
be, find, do,
the extra-ordinary
see the kindness in the eyes
of all you encounter
and unfailingly,
return
the hopeful glace
burn, burn the oldest order
set the worlds,
infinite whorls......aright
and then
sing the stars
to sleep...
in the purple,
winkled, wrinkled hours
of the calm and pristine
shadowed span of the night.
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 9:21 PM UTC
to be a speciman in a jar
inspected from all angles
not freedom,
no hopeful view
inspected for your shape,
your feelings, your i.q.
to tip and tap scream and
yell for help to free oneself,
to pace cyclically while the beat of
your innerclock ticks your
precious time away.
to watch the watchers,
hear them whispering,
gossiping, laughing,
pointing at you,
curled feotally, as far as
possible from the incessant
view.
to want one thing,
but have another.
to desire,
to emire oneself
in a,
crooked point of
view.
to be confused, restrained
by sundered synapse,
or
fixated on rythmn, numbers,
rhymes in order to get through.
to be black ink stickmen,
in
an ink black room,
with a black dog,
chasing you....
growling out doom.
to be living a hell private
and encompassing while,
working in uniform
oh so neat.
we are one and all,
the specimans,
incomplete.
the glass jar is there,
for
all who stumble in defeat.
....to be a speciman
in a jar
judged for ....
is a living death,
a soundless living hell
a far cry from heaven,
more an automated shell
walking, moving, talking,
exsisting.....
in a jar...
..... on a shelf.
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 4:52 PM UTC
Domino’s as their fingers,
the numbers
eating from the menu,
squares and rounds
enjoined but not sequential
In the Jazzy Cat Café
(tail curled in my mouth)
You weren't there
The sun had dried all the tomato’s,
I was calling you unanswered
missing the rythmn of your character, and
how you reached me with each impulsive smile
remembering earlier how...
we’d climbed eleven steps to your apartment,
and entered not really sure of where to next...
In another room;
(wooden floored)
was stored a blackboard menu,
a hostess said her welcome
in the way that Sultans sometimes spin
I asked for panini without the mayo
the waiter stirred the perrier
the singer sang without destination
and implied no journey
I heard her song and
watched her lips
missing
all the ways
that you might sing
MChallis © 2015
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 6:21 AM UTC
1.
I knew your eyes
burning me away
In the beauty of fire.
Like a monk without a temple
I watched with
the experience of distance
as my effigy sat
drowning in your leering embers.
"I don't wish to remember you."
I whispered like the ash caked to my lips.
It wasn't a question anymore.
2.
"But, you WILL honor me"
The echo of its words
scratched my soul
sending me into the silence
of winter fields.
The dusk of life.
It's desease,
a solitary crow cawing its way
through my resolve,
absorbing the dying stars in your eyes.
My heart tripping,
over their pleading rythmn.
3.
I screamed it as if to imprint the words
Into the fabric of time.
"SO SIT THERE THEN!!!"
"Sit there and pray"
"It's all you have left"
"It's all you ever were"
I stood then,
in the circle
that fears dying gasp tends to make
as it's life is being devoured from it
by the wolfs of rage.
4.
"Where do you want me to be?"
My voice cracking like ice,
part suprise, part steel.
"What can I give you
that you won't bleed all over?"
"Only the truth."
"Only the past."
"My secrets are mine."
"Only the wind and the wheel
will ever show you
but you are too busy looking
for tomorrow to see today.
To much vision to feel
what's right.
Now."
5.
"I have not moved past you
rather
I have shed you.
Like beer from a bottle.
Making someone happy,
at least for now."
I turned and walked away,
leaving the three of them
To fire and wolves.
May 18, 2019
May 18, 2019 at 1:35 AM UTC
Comfortable Arrows
Lay down my friend,
lay upon a muddy pillow,
Such relief
after a hard day
playing in battle
and in fear.
Take off a limb
or two,
and slip into
something gauze,
Swathes of
poppy red fields,
crisp and clean
will embrace you.
Perhaps a little claret,
sticky,
a good nose
but not too old,
Warm,
trickling
and soothing,
Vintage,
with a bouquet
of iron,
Barbed,
with a lingering finish,
Perfect with a cigar,
Hand rolled
leaves of skin,
Toasted,
flakey,
rubbed
and lit....
Inhale,
inhale
through silver holes,
Where sparkling bullets
still ricochet,
Still smoking.....
Breath,
pause,
breathe,
pause,
pause.....
Turn down
the exploding lights,
It's only a game,
Those blazing fires
of the cannons
are far too bright
for our little lot,
for us to be brave,
To relax,
to die.
Perhaps
a little music will help,
A bugle,
a boom,
a cry,
a boom,
a whistle,
a shout,
a bugle,
a boom,
Like the rythmn
of a drum,
of a heart,
or a love song.
Close your eyes,
there's nothing more
to see,
To live for,
To feel......
It's all in your
imagination.
You will not
hurt anymore
when dying is like
being executed
by smiling friends
with childish bows
and comfortable arrows.
© RJVHorton2014
Jun 29, 2015
Jun 29, 2015 at 10:46 PM UTC
we coupled,last night
ben and i
in a strange wild sobbing
song of grieving,
primal,greedy, frentic lusting.
it was, an affirmation
of life,
desperation and sorrow was
our rythmn.....
anger and sadness,
the counterpoints to our, thrusting, grasping beast.
spent, but still crying,
we spooned,
and pressed our
anguish, against each other
this morning, we are sombre
and united in sadness.
as we pack our black clothes,
to travel to your funeral.
our blood,
still humming,
with that strange song,
so wild, in it's abandoned longing of desperate need to create living, life.. to go on.
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 5:13 PM UTC
Can you remember the time
When the lonely winters wind
Went searching through our coats
For our skin
As the stars sang a silver song
A billion violins
Scattered across the depths
Of the indigo sky
One pair of gloves to share
Our naked hands trembling
Laced together and set
To fight against the cold
The only fire for miles
Was what burned
In the depths of us
Fueled by the dancing wisps
In our eyes
Bound by the ancient rythmn
Of the northern waves
Washing our souls
Back
Into the dreaming sea.
May 1, 2018
May 1, 2018 at 5:15 AM UTC
Music fills my ears drowning out the thoughts inside my head
The beats louder than the beating of my heart
It fills me where the empty space has expanded within
Replacing the art of blades on my wrists
The thoughts of bullets in my brain
I dance feet move, my body waves and arms reach for the air
No one can see me
And this time that's okay
No one else matters
Its only the Rythmn and I
Some people take drugs to dance
I dance not to take drugs
Volume up, eyes closed I dance
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 1:38 AM UTC
The Sound Of Her Voice...
Touches Me... Tortures Me.
The Scent Of Her Perfume... Entices Me... Suffocates Me.
The Rythmn From The Strings Of Her Guitar... Moves Me... Hypnotizes Me.
The Mention Of Her Name... Excites Me... Breaks Me.
The One I Could Never Have.
Always Having Visions Of Her And I... But Like Smoke, It Escapes Too Soon. Before I Could Even Hold It.
Forcing A Smile, Whenever She Tells Me About Her...but Inside, Like A Lifeless Flower, I Wither. The Words, Too Heavy To Leave My Lips... Always Hoping She Sees It In My Eyes. ... But Her Love For The Other Has Blindfolded Her. She Is Blind Now.
My Arm, Always Stretched out, For A Dream I Can Never Live.
Just A Wish In The Sea.
My Dream,
My Torture,
My Nightmare.
...She ,Who Can Never Be Mine.
©The Unspoken
Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 5:50 AM UTC
Music fills my ears drowning out the thoughts inside my head
The beats louder than the beating of my heart
It fills me where the empty space has expanded within
Replacing the art of blades on my wrists
The thoughts of bullets in my brain
I dance feet move, my body waves and arms reach for the air
No one can see me
And this time that's okay
No one else matters
Its only the Rythmn and I
Some people take drugs to dance
I dance not to take drugs
Volume up, eyes closed I dance
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 1:37 AM UTC