"scintillant" poems
Lips curling towards blue hues
bestow scintillant cut pearls
which bite cardiac tissues
like fur companions nip hands
The physical sensation
lacks pleasure in a vacuum
yet the conveyed affections
grip the fabrics of being
How those star gazers lift, too,
and cradle a future, thus
beckoning mine towards you
with no ending in sight.
Jan 31, 2019
Jan 31, 2019 at 4:25 PM UTC
The swell of your feverish hands over mine.
Sweat soaking into my skin.
I’m clutching every part of you I can grasp,
Every part of you I can fit into my palm.
We’re sitting beneath the hollow tree,
Beneath the ocean of a sky,
Beneath the screaming black-billed cuckoos.
We don't say a word because we don't need to;
Just silent prayers burned between us,
Scarred into pale, malnourished bones.
I look at you as your sloe-eyed gaze
bores into the mountains of clouds swimming above us.
I want to kiss you,
But all I can do is lay my head on your shoulder,
Wishing I could build a home out of your collarbones.
I don't ever feel safe anymore.
Except when I’m forgetting everything, with you.
At dusk,
I tried to unlearn the way the gold in your skin,
Possessed your face in scintillant rays of spots.
I could count each one if I had the time,
But you’re already turning your spine stuffing back away from me,
And skipping back home
Without the bother or concern to look back.
Aug 20, 2017
Aug 20, 2017 at 8:58 PM UTC
“The sound that pours from the fingertips awakens clouds of cells far inside the body”
Robert Bly 1926-
You could say that the sound that tips deep cells are waking
heralds with bugles divine revolution
You could say that the sound that echoes from spirals
gossamers emeralds’ scintillant light
You could say that the sound that squishes from mangoes
is luscious and opulent tripping with pearls
You could say that the sound that slumbers in harp strings
howls round the polar bear’s tumaceous couch
You could say that the sound that tremors from tadpoles
triggers eruptions of undersea mountains
You could say that the sound that sits on the windowsill
on Arcturus flickers as icicle fire
You could say that the sound that bounces off drumskins
loosens the shackles of acuate cacti
You could say that the sound that shivers off rainbows
silkens red poppies at sunstrike unpacking
You could say that the sound that rumbles round moonrocks
passes on purple to stillness of shadows
You could say that the sound that echoes cicadas
crackles through canyons of memory rising
You could say that the sound that gallops through nightmares
shrinks in the face of the falcons glissade
You could say that the sound that is diatomaceous
tangles up synapses sparking at random
You could say that the sound of deep cells awakening
&n
Jan 20, 2013
Jan 20, 2013 at 4:57 AM UTC
AN AMPERSAND &...
An & and
an & and another.
I fill up the page
build a wall of &’s
I’ve always loved
their variousness
this the sharp contraction
of the simple “and.”
&&&&&&&&&&
&&&&&&&&&&
&&&&&&&&&&
&&&&&&&&&&
&&&&&&&&&&
&&&&&&&&&&
My writer’s block
hides behind
my wall of ****
ampersands.
Suddenly the words
break through
my man-made
ampersand wall!
“Thought I’d almost lost
you there sunshine!”
the poem beams.
“Ok, words!
Let’s get to work here!”
“Hup hup let’s get this
poet up and running!”
The poem puts
the pen in my hand
puts the pen
to the page.
“Ok son…get on
with it!”
And the hand
remembers
by candlelight how
it all happened
one day in
…French.
The poet goes &
makes a cup of Cocoa.
The page reads
the poem over
to itself.
“Not bad…not bad!”
the page laughs to itself.
“Poets! Ha!
Who’d ‘ave ‘em!”
VERRE D'EAU
il pleut dans
le verre d'eau oubliée
remplir à craquer
le verre vide maintenant
renversée par la pluie féroce
scintillant dans le soleil
une coccinelle rampe à l'intérieur
cet univers de verre
le chant des oiseaux tombe sur l'herbe mouillée
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 3:30 PM UTC
interdimensionnel
infini éternel
ça gravite fusionnelle
une orbite arc-en-ciel
tous les ondes rayonnant
tous les mondes scintillant
éternel comme espoir
dans le ciel sacré-noir
Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 4:20 PM UTC
A gliding entity between ecstasy, my eyes grew from seeds
to inversely unbounded trees, oxidizing, breathing into the collective
a collection eclectic; the ripening ages convene the gods' pallette
so mortal and clean. From the vantage of mauve mountains,
beholders pressed through the ravine. "The bewildered be wild"
She crooned on to me.
Deepening the night, scintillant ancestors dug
with Light, unearthing cherished retinal prints.
The vulpine maw imposed no sin, indigo glow
and a patina sheen, feral bliss had greased
the chain. Lineages span millennia as scions cast
the sacred Heron, spear of the World beyond
the eros plane.
So She crooned on to me
Her sybilline Dream.
Nov 20, 2012
Nov 20, 2012 at 7:28 PM UTC
The early bright chased away shadows in its slow rising scintillant song. Very little stars were left in the sky.. The purples and oranges that painted the sky soon turned into atomoshere blue. The dawn-to-dark song was in full bloom.. The lyrics sung about colors the light of the day would award my deep brown eyes. Some of them also spoke of the coming nighttide that was well on its way to catch us all. On eventide I walk up to the hills.. The night slowly makes love to the day and lays her down to sleep.. There I begin to count the stars.. Until there are to many to count.. As there is no moon to shine down on my star parade I clearly see the vault of heaven in all its beautiful cosmic glory.. The night is in full bloom........
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 2:43 PM UTC
*may i please
love you
touch your hand
meditate its slender form
feel each of your fingers
study their shape and bend
wanting your entire hand in my mouth
dreaming of you
clutching hard and desperate
that i may shed blood to sweeten your day
like dark berry jam
tattoo you with inky hooks !
may i please
brush your face with o so tremulous a touch
catch your buttercup smile and languid honey breath
caress your hair like a soft kittens sway
be entranced by your glistening aqueous lips
brand you
mine
with scalding iron !
your every move
a charm
that tumbles through echoes canyons
my heart a vaulted moon quivering
your every glance scorching me
sizzling like bacon on a hot tin roof
while moistened pink tongue
licks across pearly whites
sending bolts of scintillant refulgence
booming through me
shaking me to the floor
scar you with daggid cutlery !
can you feel me breaking for you
your eyes, synagogues for worship
crumbling
vanishing at you feet
you sweeten crests soul
do you see through me like a window
your pinned butterfly
foot slave
terminus
ticker tape love machine
printing staccato
marks and remarks
may i love you
may i come close
may i fall at your knees
open your throat
that willingly yields
veins and rivulets of red blood kisses
flooding me like child birth
into arms of love
waiting shaking
pierced
through the heart
may i please
Jun 5, 2017
Jun 5, 2017 at 5:38 PM UTC
This box.
I’ve wrapped myself in the darkness inside it,
I’ve run my fingers upon its walls
Feeling the coldness of stone left untouched by the sun.
This box.
There was a time when it was just a place for
Storing my heartaches and
Containing my sorrows
But one day I poured too much, and I myself
Tipsy, teetering, tumbled.
I fell in.
And I have not escaped since.
This box.
Every day, I tell myself
“You’ll get out.”
“You’ll find a way.”
“You can do it.”
But my hands slip from the rims and edges
And my feet falter and fumble
And I spend one more day, one more eternity,
In this box.
This box.
I heard someone call through the walls of wailing and layers of lies
That He’s coming to save me,
That I will soon bask in the light,
Be free once more.
But, this box…
I had grown to like it.
Somewhere between the lines of fear and pain
I had lost my love for what’s righteous.
Like a child walking to close to the train tracks
I was too self-absorbed to know what was good for me.
This box.
I let my screams run out,
And as they echoed in the cube
I drowned out His promises
And all fell silent.
This box.
A figure appears at the hole at its top
He says
“I won’t give up on you,
Even if you’ve given up on me.”
A ladder falls towards me,
And He descends to rescue me.
He picks me out of the murky waters.
“Stop!” I scream
He carries me toward the light.
“You’ll die if you save me!” I cry.
His foot ****** itself on a pain,
His hands fill with welts from a worry,
“Let me be who I’m used to being!” I howl.
We reach the surface, and my eyes open for the first time.
I stare at my savior.
“Thank you. But… you could’ve died, for me.”
He smiles, then extends his arms to show the scars of the Cross.
“Who says I haven’t?”
This box.
I am a slave to my own pains no more.
I now live in God’s holy light.
Warm.
Exhilarating.
Scintillant.
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 8:12 PM UTC
scintillant bodies flicker
blink and fade in a darkness
beaming in charcol waves
indigo trees rustle and sway
in tribal dance, as the sea
beats out the metre
on the hard packed sand
on the wing, dark birds
cry lust, death and desolation
and mice write wills and testements
on dry dust paths, before signing
them with a squeak of suprise
in the creek, the platypus rises
and subsides with a quiet splash
surprised by a large form drinking
the frogs write and sing deep bass arias
with the cicadas and crickets providing chorus
and amongst it all a high pitched perping
from what beast, I cannot recall
we pass now from summer warmth
to the crisp catching cold of autunm nights
darker for the rain cloud weather
making the moon an erethal wreath
if seen at all...
out off the coast a patch of luminous blue
gives of wonder as bio luminescence
holds a small patch of sea in it's thrall
in the morning more leaves
will colour, fade and fall,
the circle continues
from day to day...
simply heeding nature's call
Mar 26, 2017
Mar 26, 2017 at 10:12 PM UTC
so close within your eyes..
resides the world's most scintillant light..
when you cry...the stars WEEP and release symphonies that cascade from the skies,
azure temples intimately disguised,
yet in the dark your heart falls apart and calls out my name,
every day i think of you, as my soul grows cold and old..i struggle 2 control the pain..
Its odd..
the facade.. that the'world in all it's awe
performs so worn'from the applause relentlessly,
Nothing MUST be..
we're born and formed to be flawed,
created cracked and clawed
from earthly debris,
Misanthropic melodies, manifolds of madness never before heard-confessed and conveyed
Expressed and displayed-through violent variation of words,
I await..
and in silence observe,
Confounded and disturbed.
Mar 6, 2019
Mar 6, 2019 at 6:42 PM UTC
The Wonder Boys
by Michael R. Burch
(for Leslie Mellichamp, the late editor of The Lyric,
who was a friend and mentor to many poets, and
a fine and evocative poet in his own right)
The stars were always there, too-bright cliches:
scintillant truths the jaded world outgrew
as baffled poets winged keyed kites—amazed,
in dream of shocks that suddenly came true . . .
but came almost as static—background noise,
a song out of the cosmos no one hears,
or cares to hear. The poets, starstruck boys,
lay tuned in to their kite strings, saucer-eared.
They thought to feel the lightning’s brilliant sparks
electrify their nerves, their brains; the smoke
of words poured from their overheated hearts.
The kite string, knotted, made a nifty rope . . .
You will not find them here; they blew away—
in tumbling flight beyond nights’ stars. They clung
by fingertips to satellites. They strayed
too far to remain mortal. Elfin, young,
their words are with us still. Devout and fey,
they wink at us whenever skies are gray.
Originally published by The Lyric. Keywords/Tags: poets, wonder boys, stars, lightning, electricity, sparks, shock, shocks, smoke, cosmos, cosmic song, celestial music, music of the spheres, Peter Pan, Neverland, flight, fly, flying, soaring, elves, elfin, magic, fey, immortal
Apr 16, 2020
Apr 16, 2020 at 4:18 AM UTC
#*Living in the dark, yet afraid of the shadows;
cast forth from the stars of a mystic scintillant soul
Knowledge illuminates the scholar's glass window;
scorches the brush of the ignoramus's finite goals
Remember, however, all fields exist as fractals;
pursue to infinity and perceive the worm's crawl
Brothers and sisters, united in life's shackles;
the universe's fixed physical laws constrain all
Though collectively, mankind strives for heaven's lenses;
forever advancing Hegel's romantic world essence*#
May 16, 2018
May 16, 2018 at 8:16 PM UTC
no longer sheathed by the living skin of the land
ancients of the deep shriek in unholy abhorrence
as they make their rapturous ascent to the heavens,
seeking not salvation that they’ve forsaken,
but the evisceration of a former home.
it is malice not earthly tar that stains
bulging scleras and hissing pulses
placated only by wine tastes of sin.
these apparatuses remain ever silent
to eternally bask in the presence of Her.
Her who invokes the name of salvation.
Her, melichrous.
Her, scintillant.
composed of polished crystal embellishments
must have the creature once relinquished
the bipedal form to humanity in exchange
for spherical inconvenience.
renounced and disdained
by the possessors of illusory superiority
the mousy predecessors of righteousness
trod lightly through emotional labyrinths
only seeking to sate their vampiric empathy.
Her seeks this suffering of the corrupt
where the must be bound in crude scales
packed amongst their parasitical kin.
alexia unbound wreaks havoc in their stead
manifesting in serpentine coils which match
the tongue slithers out cryptic hymns.
Her must and will be subject to judgement,
durum hoc est sed ita lex scripta est.
and does this serpent mimic the rhythmic
folding to suit its needs as Her is bound
once more to the Mire
never to breach the heavenly dome
void of living skin wrappings.
Dec 8, 2015
Dec 8, 2015 at 1:42 AM UTC
She knew she wasn't the
first shy girl conned beneath
a scintillant moon.
Why do boys lie so
- inveigling fabrications
- hoping to impress?
Why interlace fibs,
when, from first sight, she had longed
for his carnal lips?
Now doubts danced - as if
evil spirits were called and
asked to watch, and gloat.
"I can't talk to you
again," she said, "after all
- you’re a stranger."
She doubted he cared
- she doubted everything, like
she had a soiled heart.
Dec 10, 2020
Dec 10, 2020 at 6:58 AM UTC
With aggression, straight forward not a single hint. What we had was legendary but definitely not innocent.
It was magnificently significant, and you were a participant in that scintillant ****** expression.
The look that cleared my defilement core. the one you adore.
Jul 9, 2019
Jul 9, 2019 at 6:17 PM UTC