"scintilla" poems
shred, dash, drop, pinch, soupçon, jot, iota, whit,
atom, smattering, scintilla, hint, suggestion, tinge,
a modicum of good works,
my endeavor, to serve and deliver,
man's bounty of good words
from my kitbag,
fresh, hot, n' crusty
just like me....
Hello Poetry!
Feb 2014
Feb 12, 2014
Feb 12, 2014 at 6:21 PM UTC
L'anguilla, la sirena
dei mari freddi che lascia il Baltico
per giungere ai nostri mari,
ai nostri estuari, ai fiumi
che risale in profondo, sotto la piena avversa,
di ramo in ramo e poi
di capello in capello, assottigliati,
sempre piú addentro, sempre piú nel cuore
del macigno, filtrando
tra gorielli di melma finché un giorno
una luce scoccata dai castagni
ne accende il guizzo in pozze d'acquamorta,
nei fossi che declinano
dai balzi d'Appennino alla Romagna;
l'anguilla, torcia, frusta,
freccia d'Amore in terra
che solo i nostri botri o i disseccati
ruscelli pirenaici riconducono
a paradisi di fecondazione;
l'anima verde che cerca
vita là dove solo
morde l'arsura e la desolazione,
la scintilla che dice
tutto comincia quando tutto pare
incarbonirsi, bronco seppellito:
l'iride breve, gemella
di quella che incastonano i tuoi cigli
e fai brillare intatta in mezzo ai figli
dell'uomo, immersi nel tuo fango, puoi tu
non crederla sorella?
3.8k
i.
Brandon and Jane
One heart pumping their blood;
Soulmates, eternal love.
ii.
Brandon and Jane
Names written on alleyway wall's;
Undiscovered by man,
Treasure's of God.
iii.
Brandon and Jane
Revealed for all to seeith;
Manifested to the naked eye
To her I seek to pleaseth.
iv.
Brandon and Jane
Together interconnected glow;
Ourn flower garden is planted
We art the growers of touching soul's.
v.
Brandon and Jane
Mine flesh is her flesh, as tis her's is mine.
Mine pain is her pain, as tis her's is mine.
Mine name is her name
Filipino divine.
A kingdom with an empress
Jane sardua, lady of time.
vi.
Brandon and Jane
Coalesced in sacrosanct lullaby's;
As newborn infant's, and before the age
Of man we were to find. To find one another
In a moment's blinking eye, I kneweth her, tis
She kneweth me, I searched the beaches and thus
The sea's, as I landed in Clarin, Philippines;
vii.
Brandon and Jane
Forever to be,
Resplendent
Symphony's
Of soulmate
Seeds. Together
Forever
scintilla
Serene.
©Brandon Cory Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane dedication ( Filipino rose) poetry
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 10:03 AM UTC
To be imbued with the conviction that empathic listening is a panacea,
by the surreptitious, murmurous harbinger and his mellifluous words,
provoked brooding that my comprehension of his susurrous eloquence was a mondegreen,
when this scintilla of sagacity left a fetching ingenue crestfallen.
By the surreptitious, murmurous harbinger and his mellifluous words!
I adopted a propinquity to this furtive, ephemeral epiphany,
but when this scintilla of sagacity left a fetching ingenue crestfallen,
I discerned this lagniappe beleaguered our dalliance.
I adopted a propinquity to this furtive, ephemeral epiphany.
When she became inured to petrichor I knew my method pyrrhic,
and when I discerned that this lagniappe beleaguered our dalliance,
I vowed to rectify the imbroglio for my quintessential cynosure.
When she became inured to petrichor I knew my method pyrrhic,
and I ruminated that her insouciance was only forbearance.
I vowed to rectify my quintessential cynosure of the imbroglio,
and fabricated a denouement to return her to halcyon incipient.
I ruminated that her insouciance was only forbearance,
until hearing her state our conflation made each a moiety of our own panoply.
She fabricated a denouement to return us to the incipience of halcyon
with ineffable felicity, and I remembered with ebullience my inamorata's words.
Hearing her state our conflation made each a moiety of our own panoply
provoked brooding that my comprehension of her susurrous eloquence was a mondegreen.
With ineffable felicity I found ebullience in my inamorata's words
and was imbued with the conviction that empathic listening is a panacea.
Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 4:58 AM UTC
Ingénue, Ingénue
mellifluous intonation;
within my ear
intangible embrocation!
Emollient to my inure
lithe and lilt affections-
A panacea, a talisman
fetching provocation.
Ingénue, Ingénue
Why must you fall
into such fugacious
dalliances?
Becoming and comely
are you
The cynosure of men
dissembling by demure
Ingénue, Ingénue
how easily I imbue
sempiternal scintilla
into naive little you
Lo, during my brooding-
arrive in halcyon gambol,
Dulcet or Saccharine
Is it me or you?
Ingénue, oh Ingénue
an epiphany, so true
a furtive labyrinthine
past the offing of you
None so opulent
cast more than penumbra.
T'would simply be Pyrrhic
to go on, continue.
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 12:14 PM UTC
peril is not what i fear, i fear your death at such a scintilla of contentment
how can i love you for such distorted exaltation, if it is love at all
she has sunned only her heart, a weathered inamorata of gangrenous pallor
timid and stark naked in the swirling moonlight, blood viscous and ripe to drink, she speaks at last:
i cannot be your lover.
in retrospect, the affair was a whim; lithe but so bitter
love is not divine will, but tenacious valor
as i have learned
as anything
have i disrupted your cadence?
Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 5:59 PM UTC
Acquiesce here my love
Ameliorate my heart
The assemblage of circumstance provides dulcet ebullience
An efflorescent dalliance conflated into cathartic becoming
My bucolic bungalow made upon your callipygous
A young Life’s denouement
Your evocative elixir fetching
An erstwhile emollient embrocation
Your eloquent fingers find their way to frisson
My felicitous chatoyant gambols in glamor like a halcyon incipient made ineffable by the look of the ingénue
The labyrinthine inglenook lagoon leisurely lithe
The murmurous daffodils wink at the insouciance of your beauty
A panoply panacea, the half shadow complete as an epiphany
Quintessential to feminine riparian resplendence
Your mellifluous voice, an opulent offing, the sumptuous summery soliloquy of an angel
Cools my soul like the smell of earth after rain
Your propinquity ripples the scintilla of my spirit
Your surreptitious smile like a zephyr quietly whispers
Its redolent seraglio sempiternal in my thoughts
As skyward gazes like saccharine gossamer lilt with the knowledge of our raveling juxtaposition
a masterful pastiche, the cynosure of divine revelation
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 9:25 PM UTC
6.02 a.m.
sunlight pries your eyes open and i
meet you for the ****** time again and again
nothing mends and breaks my heart more than watching
you fall in love with a novel fragment of me every day
9.35 a.m.
i toast bread with both eyes closed
and i let them char like the edges of my heart
you tell me last thursday's joke
but i erupt into hilarity, anyway
3.17 p.m.
nostalgia is a side-effect of forgetting
you reminisce about knitting parties we never threw
between giggles, i wonder how your words are needles
that pick all of the right places
7.43 p.m.
this world is a stygian dystopia
but you, you are my sole scintilla of colour
i feed you blatant lies for dinner
only to let you sleep with a peace of mind
11.59 p.m.
i watch you fall asleep to the rhythm of my silence
there are all types of silences and distances
but this
this is the worst kind
please, don't forget
to remember
me.
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 3:58 AM UTC
As I am absorbed
in ol' buttermilk sky,
I stand ***** whilst my bare
feet skim neighbor's roof.
I'm pulled West, up. Setting sun
fans rays. Here, I am emitted
in nebulosity.
I care not what
hankerings loosened, let go,
drift back to earth,
to rosy, lilied yard
where chain link encumbered.
Clinical conclusion drawn
in misty misconception
no longer.
Intrinsic am I as air.
Spread my molecules
in scintilla of light. Yes,
even into gray of smog,
as I must admit,
to ***** parts. These
may rain acidic intrusions
in your backyard. Too
much to assimilate?
I never asked for
what rained in mine.
No impurities
have been intended.
Still, I must emit.
My sky awaits.
Catching next cloud out.
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 9:33 AM UTC
I don't belong to myself.
These atoms that frame
Everything that I am
Aren't even mine.
These cells don't especial
My small being.
Because they belong
To the extinguished stars.
They belong to the suns
Around which orbited
Planets of all shapes
Of all matter,
Around which orbited
Their moons.
I don't belong to myself
I belong to the
Extinguished
Heavenly bodies
Whose light probably
Still travels, wandering,
Lost without a source,
Just like human souls.
Every scintilla in my being
Belongs to the dark abyss
Of outer space, to the stars
That once shined, to the stars
That someday will,
To the creatures we'll never
Even know existed,
To the creatures that will
Never know we ever did.
I don't belong to myself,
Because the weight
Of my body is and
Forever will be
Too heavy for my soul.
-
tjr
Jun 23, 2016
Jun 23, 2016 at 7:39 AM UTC
One strand of your hair,
one kiss of your neck,
one whiff of your fragrance,
one touch of your cheek--
all make me meek.
One brush of your lips,
one moment in your arms,
one moan of your arousal,
one cry of your pleasure--
all are my treasures.
One memory of your pulchritude,
one scintilla of your charm,
one taste of your sweetness,
one ineffable feeling of love--
all are heaven's doves.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
May 7, 2023
May 7, 2023 at 6:14 AM UTC
Starlight …
Icy crystalline sparkles
beaming brilliance
‘gainst the moonlit winter sky
Stars bright.
Luminescent wonders.
Scintilla laid bare in the heavens
by the pale white light of the moon
Full moon
bathing dingy cityscapes,
their dim lit ****** tales told
‘neath streetlamps’ jaundiced glow.
We walk,
slip on ice, crunch through snow,
watching for sliding cars
and dangers lurking in shadows.
Moonlit
whitewashed winter wind
winds through desolate streets
on a pale cold night in the city.
Walk on.
Whistling winds, barking dogs,
chill us, spur our pace, on
through the moonlight and cold.
Our wish
upon this night’s heavenly stars
is to be safely home, watching
from icy windows … winter walkers.
Doug Curry
1/6/10
Oct 20, 2012
Oct 20, 2012 at 11:50 AM UTC
The spring’s efflorescence,
the sunshine halcyon,
the withering rose fetching,
the ripple in the lake a talisman,
and the birdsong mellifluous,
is ephemeral,
yet quintessential.
Through wherewithal of it all,
we find ourselves pyrrhic,
because it passes like a scintilla,
but in our hearts, it’s eternal.
Jun 17, 2012
Jun 17, 2012 at 12:27 AM UTC
We live in the sunshine of our broken loves,
Where window curtains flow like pouring water from the aqueducts.
Sunlight is the memory of an old world, and we are just
Watchmakers who labor at the trumpets of time
As if to blow from the mouthpiece and unwind
The second hands and derelict hours of our luminous grief.
So too shines the scintilla of frost that covers the ancient wheat,
Snow falls like the listenings of lovers in the dark, and we are just
Cartographers of snowflakes, mapmakers of frozen eyes,
To zone the parallelogram of her strands of hair across the sky.
These and these and these
Were never ours.
Jul 14, 2024
Jul 14, 2024 at 11:31 PM UTC
*in the bleakest twilight, stars, a rural sea
hues possessing confusions, mayhem;
like susurrous in the rivers the fugitives seek.
devouring words betwixt papers of prayers
the quiet evensong plays, the salted saliva swallowed
into Rome gardens of sea green and stars
a morose spirit bellow.
into the midst of the labyrinthine coral sea
they'll sail through the soughing seawind
conflating into ocean salts, erupt in mesmeric pulse
soon the April gales will shrink to a bated breath,
credence will turn into a sempiternal menace.
fiery suspires blown to my knees,
auburn tress covered a crescent beam
serenade a zero, I tilt to the drones in the haze
a scintilla of lukewarm left to trace;
to the sea her body lured,
losing panaceas and remedies.
into maelstroms she goes,
inhaling salt water, a spirit wet with ruth;
her grey bones into ash,
into watery cemeteries she goes.*
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 11:15 PM UTC
A harbinger at a red light
Her opulent glance was evocative
At first forbearance, yet she was
fetching
One glance imbued a labyrinth
Of emotion
I felt
effervescent
The traitorous light objected to bliss
Flashed GREEN
The magical scintilla betwixt us
Evanescent
For that one fleeting moment
Dalliance
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 7:15 PM UTC
i could sniff this all
you want, boss, but I ain't got
one scintilla
Mar 22, 2015
Mar 22, 2015 at 12:35 AM UTC
I watch him; beneath veiled stare,
calming his visible quivers; as he
masks desire in slow breaths,
lips tremble beggary evident with
tease
tongue flicks awaiting a scintilla of
moisture; I squirm in anticipation,
he's on his knees, eyes light up with
devourment
ache arises with heat of yearn; tongue
brushes skin; teeth nibble and breath
quickens snaring me within ecstasies
storm
captured within his gaze, one finger
slowly outlines lips as hand travels length
of thigh slowly enticing, hornily inviting as
muskiness enthralls
and...
I become addicted to his slow teasing;
every curve finger lollygags easing them
one at a time in creamy deluge; to mouth
I bring them tasting me
frenzied...
screaming his name as tip of tongue finds
my ache begging for release; lust filled
moans escape, arching against his
throb; rising hips, meeting each ******
piercing...
deeper, letting him in; riding his rhythm;
ignited in his burn, drawn into sweet
ecstasy
surrendering...
in slow motion...
loved profoundly...
watching him sultrily...
hunger no longer veiled...
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 2:33 PM UTC
My sweet evanescent orange
although it has been a quiescent season, our time seems to be running short
As you happen to be a seasonal delight
and although our dalliance has been lovely
it has not been one of moiety
I will miss your
rough skin
dulcet taste
and your slender intricate eyes like that of a flickering leaf
Your bittersweet words had a redulcent undertone,
puzzling,
in the most delightful way
but as examine said parcel of citrus before me
I find a scintilla droplet of lament
for I do not wish for this season to end
I am mindful that it would be quite stingy of me to ask you to obtain till next season
for I do not hold possession of your bucolic tree
nor do I know if there will be a following season
So for the time being I will refrain from harboring jealousy of others who admire you
for although I nurtured and paid homage to this Sinensis tree
I am aware
that I am but a visitor
sitting under a grand opulent tree
enjoying your sweet taste
while we are still in season
Apr 9, 2021
Apr 9, 2021 at 3:54 PM UTC
Disgusted now that America is busted
For voting in sewer rats and gone to bat
For making this into an autocracy,
Working to gut democracy and replace it,
Deface and deforest all of the best
Then sell off the rest of the planet
From the water to the granite
Leaving only inedible gold
Shoved into the the wallets
Of the national pickpockets
And liars while they set fires
And burn down the country
With their hatred and bigotry
Unchecked by the lazy populace
Too stupid to know what danger is
While it is marching into their homes
Making every state a danger zone.
The traitors who own the industries
Hold a gun to journalist monopolies
So that artificial realities are sold
As socialized necessities
To people who prefer tabloids
To history books and crave bromides
For this time it is the Christians
That fiddle while Rome turns to ruins
And ashes surrounded by those who fought
While a complacent half of America did not.
I am sickened at the laziness,
The political father of craziness
Has let this horror happen to this,
The country of which I was always proud,
And sick of how loud the rats are
That they have taken destruction so far
That we may never recover again
And start to elect countrymen
Instead of men to own the country
Without a scintilla of modesty
And treat fine people shoddily
Merely because they can.
Who needs that kind of man?
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 6:30 PM UTC
A girl with a crush
every pure thought in her heart
she buries deep
until she misses
the warmth of spring
the romance in the summer
and the fall season comes
only to realize that love is gone
the days
when she didn't have the courage
to say
the words
bloom in regret
black blue grenade
shrapnel wound
seems an eternity
when she carefully peels back memories
wrapped so tightly in time
she starts to see
a scintilla
pink and odd
a clutch of stars
dark red and blinking
every bit as pellucid
as the teardrop coalesced
in her eyes.
Apr 6, 2024
Apr 6, 2024 at 7:15 PM UTC
Sometimes, writing is just
Ink on a page, splashes
Of black
On white, shadows cast
On light, something that tripped
And fell
Just happening
To form patterns
We recognize.
Sometimes, writing is
Different,
The ink - which never changes -
Mind you -
Seems to shine,
To leap beyond
Its page,
Like the sempiternal clouds
At the root of
The waterfall,
Tactile
Everywhere at once,
Obscuring your vision,
Causing your skin to
Bump,
And Prickle,
All the while
Filling your ears
With the white noise
Of water.
It's when writing is like that,
When it seems to breathe,
Where you might read it once,
Twice,
And between readings,
The meaning changes,
Somehow.
The writer's pen
Has been left behind,
Still the story lives on,
Like it should,
Like it deserves,
And sometimes it's a vast novel,
Sometimes
It's a poem,
With three lines,
Five
Seven
Five
And yet, for all their differences,
They are the same: Two
Living, breathing, scintilla
Sharing
Ink-and-paper
Heritage.
Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 10:16 PM UTC
If you would allow me, I would like to invite you into a world that I'm in, and then into a world where I would like to be in. The surplus of this thing called madness has overwhelmed me so. It has etched it's presence within the peripherals of my vision and the groundings of the world around me. I'm doing my best to refrain from the usual written prolix; my most verbose dialect that seem even ambiguous to those of a higher stature. I want you all to comprehend and peradventure shed a scintilla of empathy; the bedlam that is my mind keeps attracting the mad and the sleeplessness.
The monotony of repetition and the lonely nights of nostalgia. In unison, the Asylum within the corridors of mind houses such emotional consequences and dares to formulate an ominous construct; derived by the copious amount of my many iniquities. I am never at peace.
Give me a silent "dark" that coincides a placid slumber. Let me drift within the winds of a comatose state and the ringing of the Sandman within my ear; the melodies of sleep produced by nothingness. I seek such a slumber that transcends that of delving into the subconscious of the brain, but instead the subconscious to reach inside it's own subconscious. Like a dream within dream, but with no dream.
How absurd.
Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 1:38 AM UTC
If the flicker of a flicker of a flicker
in the farthest corner of my heart
could cause such unseemly eruptions
inside the inside of my insides
that leave me breathless
even months after
can you begin to imagine
the unholy mess
the unearthly calamity
that would unfold
if the spark of a spark of a spark
were to blind my eyes
with their mere fortuitous existence?
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 3:56 PM UTC