"scattering" poems
Your smile sets ripples
Across the calm waters
As my soul takes a plunge
Into the sea of feelings
Feeling the warmth
That embraces me
I can see myself in the reflection
of your heart
Scattering the colors of love
Your smile always
welcomes me
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 2:17 AM UTC
some people never go crazy.
me, sometimes I'll lie down behind the couch
for 3 or 4 days.
they'll find me there.
it's Cherub, they'll say, and
they pour wine down my throat
rub my chest
sprinkle me with oils.
then, I'll rise with a roar,
rant, rage -
curse them and the universe
as I send them scattering over the
lawn.
I'll feel much better,
sit down to toast and eggs,
hum a little tune,
suddenly become as lovable as a
pink
overfed whale.
some people never go crazy.
what truly horrible lives
they must lead.
65.8k
the hours rise up putting off stars and it is
dawn
into the street of the sky light walks scattering poems
on earth a candle is
extinguished the city
wakes
with a song upon her
mouth having death in her eyes
and it is dawn
the world
goes forth to ****** dreams….
i see in the street where strong
men are digging bread
and i see the brutal faces of
people contented hideous hopeless cruel happy
and it is day,
in the mirror
i see a frail
man
dreaming
dreams
dreams in the mirror
and it
is dusk on earth
a candle is lighted
and it is dark.
the people are in their houses
the frail man is in his bed
the city
sleeps with death upon her mouth having a song in her eyes
the hours descend,
putting on stars….
in the street of the sky night walks scattering poems
31.1k
Traced eyes with circles,
and a headache, he forgot
all he used to be
replacing nights with
sobbing, he took all he had
and soon went missing
A backpack full of
his blighted heart, taking the
corruption away
Scattering it on
the beach, the tides replaced them
with nothing but shells-
Jan 5, 2018
Jan 5, 2018 at 10:10 AM UTC
Lady of Silence
from the winsome cage of
thy body
rose
through the sensible
night
a
quick bird
(tenderly upon
the dark’s prodigious face
thy
voice
scattering perfume-gifted
wings
suddenly escorts
with feet
sun-sheer
the smarting beauty of dawn)
20k
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
gods and goddesses stilled mid-flight,
immortalized in a glory fast fading.
distilled sunlight filtering through, unheeded,
as a devastating dawn for redemption awakens.
_dust scattering over marble hands, forever supple,_
as angels fall from grace,
wings clipped and torn asunder.
the sigh of a thousand lost souls, searching;
the thunder of a thousand chariots, unbridled.
_a wing outstretched, a bow pulled taught;_
drawn, not fired.
frozen heroes lifting voices unheard;
_the calm before a storm, a fight unforeseen,_
silver linings beckoning victories
of heaven's epics left unsung.
look up into the clouds and you'll see a history unwritten,
for they speak to you in murals
of smeared colors and pure light.
but hush! sweet child,
off you drift into an insincere sleep,
until these stories buried beneath your lips,
singed, searing, burning away memories of the battles that
linger ,over your tongue ,
are no more than a shadow of a flame.
and as his lashes flutter closed over blue eyes
and his heavy golden curls fall on white sheets
she whispers,
_the renaissance was not painted for you._
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 10:08 AM UTC
The snows are fled away, leaves on the shaws
And grasses in the mead renew their birth,
The river to the river-bed withdraws,
And altered is the fashion of the earth.
The Nymphs and Graces three put off their fear
And unapparelled in the woodland play.
The swift hour and the brief prime of the year
Say to the soul, Thou wast not born for aye.
Thaw follows frost; hard on the heel of spring
Treads summer sure to die, for hard on hers
Comes autumn with his apples scattering;
Then back to wintertide, when nothing stirs.
But oh, whate'er the sky-led seasons mar,
Moon upon moon rebuilds it with her beams;
Come we where Tullus and where Ancus are
And good Aeneas, we are dust and dreams.
Torquatus, if the gods in heaven shall add
The morrow to the day, what tongue has told?
Feast then thy heart, for what thy heart has had
The fingers of no heir will ever hold.
When thou descendest once the shades among,
The stern assize and equal judgment o'er,
Not thy long lineage nor thy golden tongue,
No, nor thy righteousness, shall friend thee more.
Night holds Hippolytus the pure of stain,
Diana steads him nothing, he must stay;
And Theseus leaves Pirithous in the chain
The love of comrades cannot take away.
9.1k
Tell your tale to the wind,
Be scattered across the sky, sing without ever being rewarded,
The falling of the leafs may be a sign of change, a warning of colder times crossing your path in this loitering darkness which takes over,
Allure is the thought of hope guiding, leading, escorting you through the misery of your own conscious, out to a far more pleasant world.
Wretched, you fight on as it slowly slips away, loses its strengh,
It is heartbreaking to watch them trying to get back, not flinching despite their wounds and scars they carry from the river of time,
Stained in crimson at last the flower petals of the falling season, reflect upon death repeatedly, with each one falling the soil cries out.
Take a dance with me in this distorted somber dark there is nothing to be sad about, the fate to be forgotten is the fate of every face, one day,
They wither over like the roses during autumn, fall from grace alike the petals of the sunflowers when their time to leave for the next generation has come, or alike the dandelions scattering their seeds,
But most importantly, is to not forget that whilst existing you can make a change, for yourself, for the better, for others,
Maybe you are their light their flower of a spring dream.
Even if humans continue to live wretchedly,
Living, is what I find very beautiful.
~ Umi
Aug 28, 2018
Aug 28, 2018 at 8:09 AM UTC
Scattering sweet fragrance throughout soft air
Perfection at heaven’s finest
Remembrance paints one soul a flare
Calmly soothing
My unrest
Despite all the changes time has made
Sweet fragrance sings to me
In all my dreams a pleasing promenade
Evokes a kiss of
Fragrant potpourri
A medley dances within my senses fine
Of sweet nights with you
Scattering fragrance throughout my mind
Painting my soul
Anew
This sweet fragrance has no beginning
Each kiss begins endlessly
Dances within my senses softly awakening
This fire inside
So heavenly
Oct 15, 2010
Oct 15, 2010 at 2:39 AM UTC
There’s a scurrying sound of something, burrowing,
Down in the depths of the dungeons, hurrying,
Skittering, pittering-pattering, scattering
When there’s a footstep, hear them chattering:
‘Here come the lords, and here comes the vassal,
Tripping their way through Cockroach Castle.’
Here come the ladies, all in their finery
Tripping and sipping the wine from the winery,
Trailing their silks, their satins and bustling,
Up in the ballroom, while the rustling
Army beneath the sounds of their razzle
Is down in the depths of Cockroach Castle.
Spilling their millions up in the glooming
Out from the flagstones, terror is looming,
Up on the awnings, hung from the ceiling
Under the swish of the skirts they’re stealing,
Dropping in hair, and burrowing faster,
Cockroach Castle is set for disaster.
Suddenly all of the room is screaming
Flapping of hands, the roaches are teeming,
Myriad hordes in the Carbonara,
Candles are tipped from the candelabra,
Choking smoke from the candles guttered,
Flames leap up from the ones that stuttered.
Clothing and flags and the awnings razing
Silks and satins flare up, and blazing,
Roaches in eyes and ears, they’re rasping
Clogging their throats, to leave them gasping,
There isn’t a lady or lord, or vassal
To come out alive from Cockroach Castle!
David Lewis Paget
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 1:08 PM UTC
Diving into my insecurities,
Replaying the same mistakes
Unfolding memories from the deepest crease,
Mesmerizing the unforgettable words
Reminiscing over faint situations
Tears trembling down my face,
A wave of nerves tip toe down my spine,
Tearing my mind into pieces
Thoughts are scattering around,
Blemishing the good thoughts
Peeling away the flesh of my sanity,
Revealing layers of my anxiety
Losing sight of what’s right
A misunderstanding of my identity,
A willingness to be distant
From the people I love dearly
Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 8:15 AM UTC
Sweep the house clean,
hang fresh curtains
in the windows
put on a new dress
and come with me!
The elm is scattering
its little loaves
of sweet smells
from a white sky!
Who shall hear of us
in the time to come?
Let him say there was
a burst of fragrance
from black branches.
7.4k
My freckle flecked love
stirs the speckled paintbrush soft, dousing it's hairs so that,
as I pull it back,
all the bristles bend
seamlessly, and when I let go
they ping forwards,
smattering
a scattering of stars,
onto snowy canvas.
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 5:43 PM UTC
•
I've known an extraordinary lady,
'Cause I wrote poems in HP,
Well, I thank HP a lot,
That I have the opportunity,
To know a person like her!
And found out we have the same nationality,
Not only that, she write these exceptional and amazing poems!!
I was overwhelmed!
And blithesomely chatted her,
She replied,
We have a good talk,
I was so broken into splinters those times,
I could hardly remember the throe,
But her words glare brightest in my heart,
She inspired me,
With the hurting truth,
Well, I knew truth hurts,
Then we always chat,
We exchange phone numbers,
And texting even not in HP,
'Cause I knew she is so much busy,
But I'm still texting her telling,
"I'M SO GLAD TO BE Your FRIEND."
And that,
"Ohayou Gozaimasu, konnichiwa & konnbanwa"
"Kiotsukete kudasai Roan-chan!"
Oh yeah!
We love Japan, and their language,
That made me love her even more.
(Love as friend okay?!)
We exchange google+ & fb,
And saw her angelic face,
Scattering over her timeline,
I saw a beautiful soul,
Dancing and gleaming inside of her,
She's indeed a very good friend,
When I have heartaches and tribulations,
I share her my pain and sorrows,
She's like the sun in the noon time,
Heating me up with her love and care,
But even though I have not met her personally,
I knew for sure that I'm so much blessed,
To know such a golden spirit,
Such rare being in the amidst,
And I do knew,
That God will lead us together,
To spend time personally as friends,
Together with Ma'am Sally,
As what she told me,
"We should have this ~poetess date~ "
How I long for that day!
I really pray to God,
*That He will give you,
The best of the life,*
*Give you good health,
To continue enjoying life to it's fullest,*
*To have many more birthdays to come,
For you to see more,
Of the beauty of God's creation,*
*And to find,
That very right man,
That your heart longs to find,
For quiet elongated time.*
*I pray also,
That you will remain,
To be light to all people,*
*And be that very good friend,
Everyone longs for,*
In this beautiful day,
I pray you will be the happiest person alive,
And celebrate this marvelous day,
God had given you.
"Maligayang Kaarawan Aking Kaibigan."
© Earl Jane
♥ E.J.C.S.
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 7:44 PM UTC
A lump of eminence
Swells in her throat,
But she swallows it down
Flashing a shiny, humble smile.
This wild dandelion grows in the sun
and dances to the beat of the wind,
Scattering seeds of peace
And songs of love
In every corner of the world.
She floats among the stars
Crashing perfectly into
Every illustrious constellation.
As she shakes the stardust from her hair
And dusts her glitter-speckled shoulders,
She reaps the benefit
Of her selfless, meaningful offerings.
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 12:56 AM UTC
Unmoved by your arrival from the west coast,
ten thousand little things are different.
It’s October and the trees are on fire:
a forge that you won't notice, 'til you're gold.
Your Kicks don’t leave footprints on these cobbled streets;
even the children have old, leathery hands.
Try to paddle-board the Eno and the bass go belly-up:
that river’s for scattering ashes and making moonshine.
All they sell at Aldi is ethnic shampoo,
so now your hair twists like the roots you’ve lacked
'til now, because all you’ll ever need is two hands:
for prayer, and work.
Life moves on like a cigarette’s drag,
while somewhere Hope’s fiddle strums;
Take off your headphones and
go put your ear to an oak.
Oct 31, 2017
Oct 31, 2017 at 9:27 PM UTC
*I stopped by for a cigarette and to hear a story
He always told the tale of one eyed molly
She lost her eye
In a fight with a dog
The moral of the story was
Never trust something
Just because it may look harmless,
Even act harmless
But this day he told me another tale
The one of old Lumberjack Dale*
He was large like an ogre
Chopped too many trees to know of
Was stupid according to my uncle
This gave me quite a chuckle
He left off, on a normal morning
Hiked up the mountain
To where the clear dirt’s mourning
Held his axe and began to swing
The trees didn't have a prayer
He thought he was king
One fell down
He yelled "TIMBER"
Another smacked the ground
He Yelled "TIMBER"
Then another
and
Another
Birds were scattering
Squirrels were flying
The sounds were of a madman grunting through fire
"TIMBER"
The fifth hit the ground
The lumberjack ogre
Had to sit down
He swung one too many times, on this here day
The mountain swung back with a black bear, ok?
Protecting her cubs she wrestled the big man
Teeth in his arm and his axe in his hand
He squinted his eyes and flung the weapon
Missing the giant bear standing about 6' 11"
The mountain whispered to the lumberjack
"Leave and never come back"
He had ****** his pants and ran for the shack
"TIMBER"
The old black bear followed
Protecting her land
And the ones she adored
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 9:13 AM UTC
The evening light is glowing
Scattering shadows behind
Drizzling down the sky
The rain composes a night rainbow.
Under the moonlight.
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 1:38 PM UTC
It's deep night, damp and sticky with the
residue of southern heat which refuses to
totally dissipate this far into the night.
The night is thick with the voices of insects
and sleepers sweating atop their sheets,
committing sins in their vivid imaginings.
Dreaming, I'm standing by the wide river
wishing I could fly with the breeze through
the trees, the soft, warm, cradling breeze
that comes up from the Mississippi River.
It stirs the boughs of cypress and oak trees
and arouses a wind chime's music somewhere
down the dimly-lit street, while scattering
a newspaper like huge leaves; a wind that smells
of magnolia and dogwood blossoms and
river mud. A full moon casts long shadows
which melt into even darker, yet benign
shadows. The night has compiled its secrets,
mysteries, transgressions; surely that is the
charm of night - it frees the mind to settle not
on what seemed important during the day,
but on the longings kept locked away, hidden
from the disclosing light, struggling to break
free and take wing with this night wind.
--
Sep 14, 2011
Sep 14, 2011 at 1:34 PM UTC
*Tazaad-e-Jazbaat Mein Ye Naazuk
Maqaam Aaya To Kya Karo Gay*
**In contradiction of these emotions if that
Delicate moment unfolded - then what would you do?**
*Main Ro Raha *** Tum Hans Rahe **
Main Muskaraya To Kya Karo Gay*
**I am weeping and yet you are jolly
But if I smiled - then what would you do?**
*Mujhe To Is Darja Vaqt-e-Rukhsat
Sukun Ki Talqeen Kar Rahe **
**To me at this time of farewell
Instructions of tranquillity you are offering**
*Magar Kuch Apne Liye Bhi Socha
Main Yaad Aaya To Kya Karo Gay*
**But have you any thoughts for yourself?
If you recalled me - then what would you do?**
*Abhi To Tanqid ** Rahi Hai
Mere Mazaq-e-Junun Pe Lekin*
**For now there is criticism
On my state of madness but**
*Tumhari Zulfon Ki Barhami Ka
Sawaal Aaya To Kya Karo Gay*
**If scattering of your tresses is
Questioned - then what would you do?**
*Tumhare Jalvon Ki Roshni Mein
Nazar Ki Hairania Musallam*
**Within the splendour of your light
Is complete amazement of sight**
*Magar Kisi Ne Nazar Ke Badle
Jo Dil Aazmaya To Kya Karo Gay*
**Nevertheless if someone in return
Tested your heart - then what would you do?**
*Utar To Sakte ** Paar Lekin
Ma Aal Par Bhi Nigah Dalo*
**You can disembark across but
Take a glance at the result too**
*Khuda Na Karda Sukun-e-Sahil
Na Raas Aaya To Kya Karo Gay*
**God has not made a peaceful shore
If nothing suitable appears - then what would you do?**
*Kuch Apne Dil Par Bhi Zakham Khao
Mere Lahoo Ki Bahar Kab Tak*
**Take some wounds on your heart also
Season of my blood until when?**
*Mujhe Sahara Banane Vaalo
Main Larkharaya To Kya Karo Gay*
**Those in need of my support
If I show hostility - then what would you do?**
*Abhi To Daman Chura Rahe **
Bigar Ke Qabil Se Ja Rahe **
**For now you are leaving my hand
And you are parting away from Qabil**
*Magar Kabhi Jo Dharkano Mein
Sharik Paya To Kya Karo Gay*
**Yet sooner or later within your heartbeats
If I became a associated - then what would you do?**
— Translated by Jamil Hussain, Poet Qabil Ajmeri, Sung by Sabri Brothers
Oct 26, 2016
Oct 26, 2016 at 5:48 AM UTC
clouds of lilac blossom
thick in the blue air.
day unwraps in slow
whispers and the wind
is more lonely than am i.
the sky is a broken
vase, little
pathways of the sun,
her strange loads,
her happy voice.
the lilacs were our love song
may swept into our hair and eyes
little pieces of me scattering
like breaking waves.
dipped in the magical ink
of flowers
the garden cries
for its wilderness
its withering of sky
its blossoming of twig
until you can’t see the sky
and it becomes softly an impression,
a fine mist of golds.
no song now,
only the death of the
wind and a new road
that winds from the silver distances
of the moon.
only a harbour where i
rest for a while, a little
boat bobbing where the waves lap,
waiting for you...
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 11:31 AM UTC
It’s not a surprise.
It’s terrible but
it’s not a surprise.
Shooting, screaming, scattering, shattering,
it’s not a surprise.
I imagine but don’t understand.
White person mental illness,
illness…
Illness,
it’s called.
He was a poor, lonely, old man whose dog just died,
so he decided
to shoot up a crowd,
and **** and hurt hundreds of people.
Because of his illness.
But just listen.
Listen.
Listen:
you’re calling him ill but he’s really just mad.
There is no kindness in him if he can go **** all those people
and not even blink.
He may have offered you a handkerchief
when you were crying,
but then he goes off and kills,
and kills,
and kills,
and the kindness in him is warped, destroyed -
lost
the second he decides to
shoot,
shoot,
shoot.
Terrorists we fear -
walking down the street with a burqa draped over.
Terrorists we fear -
flying as second class citizens because of our terror.
Terrorists we fear -
speaking in a language we don’t understand.
They’re not the terrorists we should fear.
If the white terrorist is ill, then the US is plagued.
One
after another,
after another
**** us, and we still do nothing.
Nothing.
NOTHING.
We go around the world “fixing” and “helping”,
ruining lives and terrorizing,
because that’s what we are: terrorists.
Terrorists.
Terrorists.
We want to fix the world? We can’t even help ourselves.
We the people are broken.
Who’s gonna fix us?
Dec 21, 2017
Dec 21, 2017 at 6:40 AM UTC
a fish surfaces
in the creek
scattering
the moon's reflection
silver echoes
embrace the shore
and then
disappear
I fall silent
laughter settles
friends ask
what I saw
Tom Spencer © 2018
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 9:00 AM UTC