These days have ebbed
as Love's swell was checked:
the waters in some places
- all but dammed!
But now at last
I sense the rising tide
and thank Temese
for the current's turn;
now following that great writhing snake
to where its pulsing head will rake;
over the mucky soiled watery beds
- and under -
To that great gloating sight
A crown of a billion lights
Blazing day and night:
And somewhere within
In the slick oily warmth
Our flood tides mesh,
As over each other we wash.
wicked deep cuts
given and received
are recorded in that great mirror smoked!
where with a tug and a shove
on the banks
in the streets
through the loopy twists
everything prospers in the glow
as the decades decaying flow;
each ***** bud
red with new blood
one after t'other
before their purple petals scatter.
Let's on the luck o' the dice
(you 'n' me!)
on the flotsam and jetsom
that has carried us this far
and as pleases
London, a city with a rhythm, the Thames, which I sailed upon one Saturday morning - not a soul at this end of this magestic river, this city, in which I have lived for forty years...And love - a wonderful woman - and how I desire us to pull at each other as tides do, tugging at each other, two flows running over reeds and muddy shelves searching for each other in the cool green depth.
Fare well hello there,
Put the comma where you like,
I am pleased to had been meeting you,
In this world of mime,
Our hellos, the same as goodbyes,
As soon I say hi, you already said bye,
And vice versatile how we speak our words to mean different things.
I am please two half met you,
Under these circumstances,
If only I could see you later,
Talk to you next time we meet again and again we find ourselves in these strange situations.
What ever will we do things really have to be this way?
Fare well hello there.
I guess it depends on what words you decide to read me something nice so I can fall asleep.
Put the comma where you like.
•□• Can't shake this mist •□•
Draggin' paged swords down my stomach,
Split my opal skin
find a sunset gushing out
can't swap the dead sea
and the larkstone coffin
in my cherry-blossom throat
All these razor droplets
bronze scraping at my jawline
And look yonder---
a lonely crow
whispered louder than thunder
•□• Can't shake this mist •□•
Come back to haunt me,
but my poetry already has me
six feet under.
¥ Demons ¥
€ squirm €
₩ Soil. ₩
"We aren't any different now, are we?"
I'm done fighting.
This might be goodbye.
Dear Dragon and Wolf
As the moon shines
And the stars decorate the sky,
A lonely owl hymns
While the bats fly.
Lightning bugs scatter around
Like will-o'-the-wisps at night,
Without any sound
Oh, what a delight!
The neighbour's hound is on guard
She will not allow anyone to pass,
No one is allowed in her yard
At this hour, only a fool will walk on her grass.
Her howl pierces the air
Bringing an end to the silence,
She announces she won't share
She will not tolerate any form of violence.
Across the street, few floors above
Two players are taking their turns,
In the famous game of push and shove
While a tiny candle burns.
Tanay Sengupta, Copyright © 2018.
All Rights Reserved
As usual, I will not explain this poem. I think it is evident by now that I won't explain any of my poems to you. I want you to perceive it the way you want to. Happy reading!
like a meteor
that falls to the earth
like a meteor
and it's small pieces
that scatter when it crashes
like the broken pieces
that lay on the ground
she was lost
she was broken
but the feeling of falling was all worth it.
We are all same
In a different way
o ( ( (
O ) ( )
) ( o
( ( ( O
) o ) O ) o
( O ( o ( )
) o ) (
**make me a cauldron of a witch's
brew•let it bubble and boil...;
simmer and stew• allow the con-
coction to churn•feed it with raw an-
guish and spiteful spurn•whisper my wi-
shes into shady ingredients•scatter them in
to render it potent•stir it wild...with an iron
ladle with a wooden haft•raucous incanta-
tions of a long forgotten craft•...now give
me a vial of the witch's brew•let it
**** me or grant me the gifts
promised in lieu•
The trail of a wedding dress
The flower girl holds with tiny fingers
We too hold the endless stain of blood
On white t-shirts
On nights that scatter blue trees over black heart
Alight by shooting stars
The mother tells her child
Unwilling to unlock the truth
The truth those stars
Don't grant your wishes
They grab them
With scarred scratching hands.
The damp stitches in the soil
Cemetery symmetrical to hospital
Those shooting stars circling
Like a vulture
Speeds towards dead carcasses
Still, the murdering star will not cease
To break bones
That have already broken
To take lives
That have already been taken
What is already charred
It smells like not your favorite food for dinner
It smells like having to do your math homework
It smells like burning books
It smells like gnawing on your own skin for feast
It sounds like tired, howling machines
Spurring and sputtering, never-ending their onwards trek
Swallowing distances and with it, nameless faces
For nothing has gone without the occulent scratching hands taking hold
Today the earthquakes of death
Don't make the land shake anymore
For it has learned to cope
With the desolate cemeteries filled with mute bones
Today burns like gasoline
Looks like intestines decorating destroyed doors
Today it rains curdled crimson
Tell me shooting star
If the child liked jam on his toast
Did he snore?
Did he like math? Or english?
Shooting star doesn't know and neither the bombs.
As bodies fall from trees
like rotten plums.
The world was born in blood
And has not ceased to suckle its wounds
Endless blood thirst, Endless war
But not endless skin to bleed
Her shoulder rose like the moon
above the black velvet of bolero jacket
She took his arm, his eyes--
She took the room
shed the mountains
shed the light
hand to touch their wonder
her noiseless ascent
which never happened
while they watched....
roll against warmth
their energies’ warning:
Nothing quite that simple
Nothing quite that still
Nothing like the opulence
on the Proud Eve of catastrophe
caught in the lining
of what never happens the first time....
She heard them before she saw them
rip their orbits!
fission her universe!
in the mezzanine of the symphony hall
Pin ball in the Fun House
the hardwoods of space....
Universal Theory of Scatter?
Even now I can still hear the clatter
of their round smooth souls
in the doorways of distant relatives
How could I know?
You would condemn me
to find them all?
I think it is possible to know the high water mark of your life.
My pupils scatter and drag.
I dream and eat the round, brown beads
In fitful sleep, my tongue pale and sallow.
This consciousness will not float.
The lids clatter shut like a kettle drum cooker,
A thing alive inside, more or less.
There is an echo,
Scuttle, and a cough. Strangers in the cellar.
There is no rightness to this, only sacrilege.
The unjust man chatters in my skull.
"Go home, go home!", I cry.
The sense of it all withers with the passing of the years.
The music drives me rather mad.
No better time was ever had.
I listen with pleasure, awe, and dread;
I tremble, shudder, shake, and shatter.
Patterns assemble; patterns scatter;
Colorful forms parade and pass;
Harder than steel, lighter than gas,
Harmonies yield to chords that clatter.
I rock and reel and lose my head.
A little Death declares me dead.
The color fades, and a black mass
Swallows the world and its mad gadder.
I wake into life as heavy as lead.
I come back to life a little madder.
flowing river, crashing rain
together troubles sow,
yet do not mend.
a silent sorrow,
sullens sour solitude.
light mist envelopes autumn,
west wind waves the water,
wind follows blade,
blade follows rain,
rain follows clouds.
soundless slashes scatter clouds,
blossoms fall on flowing water.
memory of spring dazes gaze,
alters flow as whirlwind dashes,
summer's sunlight sets,
dual waltz of lotus leaves,
in memory of cherry blossoms.
blurred shadow forms a phantom,
menacing mist chases hurtling haze,
snow sinks deeper than a dream of snowy winds.
Ͼ Dragonite, Dragonite,Ͽ
>< >< ><
Chinking at your heartstrings,
can you hear
>< >< ><
A blush to
your snowy skin
and so you
>< >< ><
A eyelash brushes away
a blink knocks out
>< >< ><
Fetching back a inked paw,
hear me rapping (oh so knocking)
selladore? (cellar door.)
>< >< ><
Ͼ Dragonite, Dragonite Ͽ
brush the stars from your hair.
Ͼ Dragonite, Dragonite Ͽ
Words and blotches are unfair.
But then again,
scatter your inkheart, dragon boy.
This ones for you, Kal.
Eat the sky out, mate.
As far and as wide as possible
Without losing your mind
And you will find your answer
The midnight sun is heading north
These bags are packed with dreams
and the memories of who I’ve been;
To scatter forth like gathered seeds
on fallow hope,
strewn at the mercy of the winds
The genesis of spring unravels
the knotted darkness
Another winter’s aftermath
hidden back on the back shelf
The distance between back then
and now, is widening
each Dawn to Dusk
A gust of sunlight
across the still waters
of depthless peace
my hands are no longer tied
behind my back
by winter's grasp
Seasons oft do change
perennial as the tides
But I don’t want to see
another ocean runaway;
I don’t want to know how
another fleeting moment
7th April 2018
Why poets are overcome by the need
To scatter words across the universe
Many wind-blown seeds.
To splash their sadness on paper
Paint black their rage,
A sea of raw emotion
Where melancholy rules as queen
I often wonder
If they ever desire to escape
From the fantasy worlds
Sometimes willingly created.
Relaying their loves, dreams, and trysts,
Oblivious to the reality
That in truth they don't exist
They are after all only a projection of light in the dark
Simple words of the poet.
The artist of thought.
This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Tammy M Darby 2/3/2016
Mum had been gone a couple of months, six I think… (An ordinary day. Feeling hollow but doing OK) …when I realized I could get rid of the sofa.
I thought it was ****. She thought it was a bargain. A sofa’s not a keepsake and it was certainly no heirloom. I’d not inflict it on my kids. I got rid.
If I could’ve had her back then? I would’ve done. Even if it meant keeping the sofa.
Redecorated. Bought a new telly. Spent frivolous amounts of cash on scatter cushions. She disliked scatter cushions. I thought they were cosy.
My little boy drew on one of the cushions. On purpose. I was about to smack the back of his legs… (Mum would have. She smacked me when I was little) … but I stopped.
I never wanted to. I had known all along, somehow forgotten.
If I could’ve had her back then? I would’ve done. But she would not smack my children.
Mum had been gone a year… (Planting bulbs. Feeling conspicuous carrying a shovel ‘round the churchyard) …and I missed her .
It was as hot as the day she died. There was no breeze up on that hill. No cloud. Beautiful views stretched right out to the sea.
My little boy had grown. He helped carry water and dig holes. My baby was learning to walk. She wobbled on uneven turf between the headstones. I wanted Mum to see.
If I could’ve had her back then? I would’ve done. No question.
Mum had been gone three years… (Bulbs were doing OK. There was nothing left to plant that rabbits wouldn't nibble) …and I realized it was time to move on.
I kept the ghosts quiet while agents showed people round. The house sold. We moved away. A warm, terraced place in a small town by the sea. Dad died.
Mum has been gone eight years and I miss her.
Looking out from the Downs across cliff-top and sea, the churchyard seems nothing more than a soft-grey fleck on the green edge of town.
If I could bring her back now? Everything’s changed.
Ghosts exist. They sit in empty chairs and speak kettle-whistle. Wishing us well.
The Stars will collide and the ashes will cover our grounds
- Tiffanie Noel Doro
burn my body,
flesh and bone just the same•
let loose my soul so it might be free•but
save my remains before the wind comes to
claim•so you'd remember me as the dream-
er infinitely•pluck the stars from the night
skyline•don't forget the moon for I adore
it so•grind them to dust and scatter the-
irs with mine•i'd have them as comp-
any to the place I will go•handle me
with care, no you must not spill•
ashes and dust...funnel me in
turn•place me near, on the
mantel or the sill•my for-
ever will then be sealed
in your cold...shelved...
Inspired by Tiffanie's "It was never that simple", for Frank's "Let's Do A Line!" challenge.
Tiffanie's last stanza really got me and the line I drew from her poem simply sang to me.
Thank you Tiff, for being such a wonderful writer and for being such an inspiration!
I listen to them as they mouth your name;
and I see
how enchanted and consumed
they talk of your ways and,
how the stars in their pupils beam with a radiance of such pure awe.
Your words hang loose off the tops of their tounges and their lips drool in your glaze.
Your lazy features, your so electric but so infuriating charm -
sends them mindless, locks them in your illusion.
So it’s then
I try to burn every
sheet of paper which ink prints your presence,
inside these desperate shelves which fold upon each heartstring.
My ears attempt to block it out.
Instead they replay every song
that has ever left your lips.
And my eyes deceive me as they scatter
a particle of you on every surface of life I encounter.
My mind echoes every laugh you created in my streams.
Then I paint every colour you ever erupted within me,
in thick black.
As they mouth your name,
every trace of you with anyone but me,
causes my hands to pull through my gut,
and hammer down any of these ******* deceptive daydreams
that you have me trapped me in.
And then so easily, one by one,
debris of my heart crumble like rain
down your window,
down each vein.
1 March 17:03
look at them all
Creatures crawl from under the roots of trees and bugs scatter from the pockets of the lost to the cadence of sprinkling rain
Silence in the woods of missused life brings out the sounds of wind screaming past the tightened ropes and rusted knives
Those who walk through the aokigahara forest hear a symphony of life that persists through the maimed, a festival of tents and people strung up like decorations as if it was meant for a parade
Nature reclaimed the unused death of unwanted bodies and the rain drained flesh from bones, simulated hell and suicide is what's found soon after passing the warning signs in red and white marked zones.
Perhaps I'm encased in a box
made out of two-way glass.
A biased one-way mirror...
Mutual vision doesn't meet nor pass.
When you look at me,
you only see,
yourself for all that you care...
Me? Just a faint suggestion that I'm even there.
Maybe that's why...
you ask about my life,
about my strife.
When I'm about to unload my
I end up having to hear about yours
Perhaps at times I travel around
in a bubble of frosted glass.
Only a blurred version of me...
Clumsily ploughing through the mass.
Incoherent, misunderstood and unclear.
Unintelligible muffles of hopes and fear.
Maybe that's why...
My words are just perceived as
Never keeping up with the times.
Words regurgitated but no one
realises what's coming undone...
Perhaps what I need
is an armour of bulletproof glass.
One of unique quality...
One ahead of its class.
You can do and say what you want.
A shell that would bear most of the brunt.
I'll be impervious.
I'll be protected.
I can be indifferent.
I can be jaded.
Maybe that's all I need...
A shocking stunt.
A fresh perspective.
A new plan.
Maybe a different name to start all
To tie the binds and thoughts that
Hoping of holding everything
Come morning, all will be
Maybe I'd still be beaten.
So for a chance that's,
fat as hell
thin just a sliver...
Truth is of the three, I have neither...
*what I've said doesn't really matter.
It is heavy and hard
to see past these four walls.
Desperately desiring to break out,
Because something always awaits on the other side.
I hate this place,
I want to get out
but doubt is standing right in front of me
What will I face?
Will I be content with myself
for getting OUT and exploring
what I never had?
But always wanted to accomplish?
Or will I be upset,
As usual my expectations were Too HIGH.
Every thought ***** all my hope,
I see broken dreams scatter on the floor
as if the pieces are too heavy
unworthy to be put back together
but I CAN NOT give up,
I AM NOT giving up,
I know there is much more to life
then these walls
Please help me,
Get me Out,
Tare down these walls!
Copyright© Cynthia Ulloa
All rights reserved.
I am but a nation,
Torn to pieces
My poor broken heart
left to scatter apart
Like a flag,
Abandoned to the breeze
And the mercy of whichever way
The winds may take me.
My colours are faded
And split apart
Representing the many different parts
Of my life.
Red is my passion
And love in my heart,
White is where my thoughts and feelings
Are at their most pure,
Green is for growth
And my love of nature,
Yellow is my cowardice
Of which I am ashamed,
Contains all possibilities.
In singularity each only represents
Part of me
Only when colours unite together
To unify my soul
Will you ever
Get to see me whole.
RIP Nelson Mandela
and wind trees
at the old buckle bay
light house corners and
shaker church craft
slip anchor on the southern tip
and phenolic board
tuck in at gout dock
bands and nations
and miracle speak
fill in the center hall
and water domes
cover wharf road
***** bay toppers
and seven horse chugs
scatter the swollen upper deck
packards and pushers
and rusty back rails
skirt the night
lanterns and sterns
and navy gulls
steady on task
and drift wood
held tight on
the mystery tour
and tide pools
at royal reach
find ripples way
smugglers and smitties
there’s a graceful hue
~ they’re serving up
belons and xan…
it's time to get in
for a fill
sunshinecoast porpoisebay sechelt
the sun that ache into my skin,
it beats the heat of the summer days
the sound of the crickets intrude,
birds are reaching up high,
clouds scatter across the blue sky
will feelings change?
i gather my attention,
to my introspective words
pulling the thread in my head,
as the train goes passing by
the clock move closer
to what matters
confiscates the time
that I stood by.
thank you Jim Musics
for re-editing my works
I really appreciate your help :)