"settles" poems
Dark clouds roll over, rain fall's down. Lighting strikes perfectly and hits the ground, clouds clear up rain settles down.sun comes out and wipes away the frowns.
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 5:07 PM UTC
---
i
blue grey clouds
of crushed
velvet
sunlight
tears
the
seams
ii
embers of
delicate peach
ignite flames
of fuchsia
the orb of
sun burns colors
away to ashes
blown into floes
of white
mare's
tails
iii
tiny bird
settles restless
on the
highest
branch
flits
away
iv
wind
through
the weathered stones
cries then whispers
luring
the children
who lie within our ribs
to break free
and sing
songs
of
play
v
mamalaria
cactus
wears her
wreath
of
pale
lavender
flowers
sings to
her babes
clustered
below
saguaro
listens
soulsurvivor
(C) 9/13/2015
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 12:29 PM UTC
You know those tears you get
When you can't stop laughing
Because you don't want to
And they just rest on your cheeks
Until you finish your laughter
And you wipe them away
You know those tears you get
When you watch a sad movie
And you feel like the characters are real
Even though they're not
And the tears just rest by your lips
Until the movie is over
And you wipe them away
You know those tears you get
When you say goodbye to a friend
And you don't want them to go
But they need to go
And the tears just rest on your chin
Quivering
Until the dust settles
And you wipe them away
You know those tears you get
When you walk down the aisle
And everything is perfect
When love is beautiful
And the tears just collect on your eyes
Until you need to blink
And you wipe them away
You know those tears you get
When you remember yesterday
And you wish it were alive again
But it isn’t
And the tears just fall to the ground
They soak into the Earth
And you can't wipe them away
Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 2:25 PM UTC
the walls of the inside passage
look the same from sound to straight
tugs and plugs dot the coastline
as the quartermaster rolls
giving time for evening glare
pods are in sequence
as the high tail smashes and jaws at the krill
white bellies and sea cows bob and weave
as bow heads glide over haida gwaii
northern lights dance
and tlingit chant
as the tide settles softly on savory shores
their getting hungry in hoonah
as the blue back and beating drums
mark the life blood of the sea
driftwood nets
and sitka spruce
surround the cook house
ravens and tinhorns
man the scullery
kerosene lamps flicker
as clam shells roast
on open flames
villagers stroll
on pebbled sand
*in the harbor of souls
where ships set sail
on might and mass
into the steady winds
of the golden skies*
ice fields (to the north)
of kryptonite blue
cutting hills at
a glacial pace
knuckle clouds
above the snowline
where warlocks
craft a hidden trade
trappers, skinners
muscle shoals
grizzly feasts
in kodiak bowl
determined pilgrims
on a dead horse trail
in search of gold
the holy grail
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 11:52 PM UTC
It arrives,
Unnoticed, unannounced.
Quiet,
At first.
Slow,
Seeping, dripping.
I put it down to a few stressful weeks.
I carry on.
It unpacks,
Worries, anxieties.
Gently,
For now,
Tiptoes,
Whispers, creaks.
‘It will leave soon’ I think ‘It always does.’
I keep going.
It settles in,
Getting comfortable.
Getting louder,
And louder.
Banging thoughts,
Insomnia.
‘Please don’t be happening again’.
I shuffle along my daily routine.
Claws in,
Insidious.
Screaming,
24/7.
Shame, worthlessness,
Hurt.
‘Please go away’.
I’m barely coping.
Growing roots,
Into my brain and heart.
Blossoming pain,
With every beat.
Emptiness, loneliness,
Abandonment.
Silence, Stillness,
‘I can’t move, I can’t cope.’
May 13, 2018
May 13, 2018 at 8:20 AM UTC
#
Each body part
sizzled in pure pleasure
in the blissed wake
of your oral efforts
brought forth the waves
of rapturous delight...
Spurs poetic inspiration
in equal liberation
of desires to please.
Bodies transpose
in fluid motion
as brazen eyes meet.
Savor the voluptuous image before you.
Indulge your eyes in my carnal halo
before they roll to the back of your head.
On all fours
knees between your thighs
tips of swollen breast
caress your chest
tasting fresh honey
upon lips in a kiss.
Ripples of ardor
hover
by wet trails
of sensual kisses
suckling towards
the apex.
Breathe in
the slow motion pace
that pulsates eagerness
to the fore tumescing bulge
leaking with anticipation
of viscous lava.
Tickles of silken hair
against flesh edges closer.
Emerging subtle grumbles
in deep resonance
betray your impatience .
Hands tightly twine
in tangled hair
to maneuver
the treasure hunt.
Licked lips pause
at the sight of fire
burning in
glazed gazes
before engulfing
the throbbing member.
Plump ruby lips
greet velvety texture
in a slow deep dive.
Tongue curls around
the flavor
in a dulcet embrace.
Moans release
as grip tightens
in my hair
settles the
rhythmic pace
to taste in an
oscillating dance.
The masculine aroma of heady musk
lingering there, arouses my appetite.
With my enthusiasm
attuned to
your preferred rhythm
suckling, slurping
surface and dive
in measured unison.
Break of breath
allows tongue
freedom to roam below,
licking, soft kissing
the tender hammock
of testicles.
Tongue and lips escalate higher
to mount another assaulting dive
deeper in the depths
of the cusp in cavity.
Wetted fingers
probe even lower
circling superficially
as gasp escapes
your heavy breath;
flaming eyes lock.
Finger dips in
with expert finesse
gorging hardened growth
within a wrapped hand.
Thighs tighten
with rocking grip.
Head thrusts onward,
drilling forward
in each dive.
Salvia slips
fingers grip
lips dip
Engorged swell, flesh tightens in an intensity
of volcanic eruption ...
HALTS
assault
Pace retracts.
Loosened lips kiss tip.
*“Soon sweetheart, your time will ***
inside me as we surrender to synergy."*
#
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 7:51 AM UTC
between you and me,
i'm still rooting for us.
maybe not in this lifetime,
but in the end.
Feb 13, 2019
Feb 13, 2019 at 1:31 PM UTC
Drifting back to the ocean
like it never even happened
unraveled dreams washed clean
crystalline renaissance bestowed
by wind mountain spring waters
rising from the heart
of mother earth
A remnant light glows deeply
of one love's untamed wonders
an unfastened feather glides abandoned
rushing waters floating
alighting pilgrim blissfully sails on
stranded without wings
a fallen wild feather free as bird
wanting a place to be let free
Sun in the summer air
wind in buoyant feathered hair
softly dancing upon
wild river restless ripples
to feel the love of holding on
adrift asunder whence it touched on
destiny's far-reaching
journey yonder
holding onto flowing rivers
rolling towards the sea
The incoming tidal waters blossom
surge to greet wind river's gentle saunter
converging slackening passage
salt on feral feathered fragments
arousing currents babbling swirl
imbibed by the impassioned sea
Wild rivers' born intentions
a different kind of drifting passage
to kiss the distant horizon
where the sown sunlight settles
submerged in shoreless ocean waters
to be free all at sea at last
someone you used to know 2017
Aug 31, 2017
Aug 31, 2017 at 1:58 PM UTC
The cloudless day is richer at its close;
A golden glory settles on the lea;
Soft, stealing shadows hint of cool repose
To mellowing landscape, and to calming sea.
And in that nobler, gentler, lovelier light,
The soul to sweeter, loftier bliss inclines;
Freed form the noonday glare, the favour'd sight
Increasing grace in earth and sky divines.
But ere the purest radiance crowns the green,
Or fairest lustre fills th' expectant grove,
The twilight thickens, and the fleeting scene
Leaves but a hallow'd memory of love!
15.1k
There's an ancient, ancient garden that I see sometimes in dreams,
Where the very Maytime sunlight plays and glows with spectral gleams;
Where the gaudy-tinted blossoms seem to wither into grey,
And the crumbling walls and pillars waken thoughts of yesterday.
There are vines in nooks and crannies, and there's moss about the pool,
And the tangled weedy thicket chokes the arbour dark and cool:
In the silent sunken pathways springs a herbage sparse and spare,
Where the musty scent of dead things dulls the fragrance of the air.
There is not a living creature in the lonely space arouna,
And the hedge~encompass'd d quiet never echoes to a sound.
As I walk, and wait, and listen, I will often seek to find
When it was I knew that garden in an age long left behind;
I will oft conjure a vision of a day that is no more,
As I gaze upon the grey, grey scenes I feel I knew before.
Then a sadness settles o'er me, and a tremor seems to start -
For I know the flow'rs are shrivell'd hopes - the garden is my heart.
14.5k
.
Snow drifts down
laying a lawn cold sheet
across the frozen ground,
creating art reliefs
like acid etching glass,
open space rolling and undulating,
in small hills and depressions,
bedecked in a veil of white.
The silence is deafening,
quiet having been enjoyed
and surpassed,
briefly punctuated by the call of a bird,
A sharp whistle that shrieks
and attacks the silence.
The fresh smell of snowfall wafts up
as it settles and glistens
in the light of silver moonbeams,
randomly peeping through clouds.
The taste of peace,
tranquility,
in the frigid air,
sends imagination soaring
from the desolation of isolation
to another time and place.
The snow falls,
falls,
in a relentless race for the ground,
all is still,
nothing stirs,
as the moor welcomes its quilt
and sleeps with a cold heart,
dreaming,
of being kissed by the Sun.
© Pagan Paul (28/05/18)
May 28, 2018
May 28, 2018 at 7:38 AM UTC
You said you would **** it this morning.
Do not **** it. It startles me still,
The jut of that odd, dark head, pacing
Through the uncut grass on the elm's hill.
It is something to own a pheasant,
Or just to be visited at all.
I am not mystical: it isn't
As if I thought it had a spirit.
It is simply in its element.
That gives it a kingliness, a right.
The print of its big foot last winter,
The trail-track, on the snow in our court
The wonder of it, in that pallor,
Through crosshatch of sparrow and starling.
Is it its rareness, then? It is rare.
But a dozen would be worth having,
A hundred, on that hill-green and red,
Crossing and recrossing: a fine thing!
It is such a good shape, so vivid.
It's a little cornucopia.
It unclaps, brown as a leaf, and loud,
Settles in the elm, and is easy.
It was sunning in the narcissi.
I trespass stupidly. Let be, let be.
11.5k
The warmth of the sun settles, hugging the lake.
The dragonfly flies low, hovering above the tranquil water
the light seeping through the paper thin skin,
it hums across the lake, refracting light off its wings,
An array of colors make patterns on the wings,
wearing it like a cloak, a rainbow embedded within.
The colors tilt and shift as the dragonfly gracefully cruises through life,
laying close to the water but letting the air propel it forward,
floating between two different worlds,
it is like a dream where our thoughts are separated from reality,
and are scattered like refracted light for us to assemble.
Through a screen of our dreams, a world can be seen.
A world of hopes and desires that is dormant within
The light of life just soaks us bare,
our skin turns frail,
under the scorching glare,
the glare of eyes that want you to be,
someone that is accepted by society.
the dragonfly bathes itself in the sun,
the iridescent colors shine on its skin,
flying and floating, he’s determined to win
a predator, determined to get what it wants
nothing blocking its way or paving its path
making the most out of life and never holding back
spread your wings like the dragonfly
that hums its way through life,
dipping its wings in the sun to shine,
breaking free a life of colors,
that we leave locked and forgotten,
behind a reality made of black and white,
the black ink seeping through our minds,
injecting us with ideas of the 'ideal life'
where money and fortune, and status define.
Bathe your mind in the wonders of the world,
soak your heart in life's warmth and glow,
and pave your own path,
with the dreams you sow.
Oct 21, 2012
Oct 21, 2012 at 3:13 AM UTC
a cerebral grasping of existence’s resplendence
is insufficient
tenuously treading bereavement’s tide
i cradle life
twinkling moments spent on this planet
are hallowed time
i walk in quiet reverence as tears flow
at innocuous occurrences
god’s face aglow in each instance
perspective revived
a bumblebee drifting gently settles
evoking awe
i stand pensive aforetime unaware
in cathedrals we stand
eyes newly uncovered awakened discover
celestial dimensions
people replete with infinite spirit
are all that surround
my senses abruptly adjusting their focus
‘tis an earthly angelic realm
©2016janetaylor
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 6:42 AM UTC
He arrived,
late,
punctuality never his strong point,
the vernix covered head,
an indication of tardiness,
three days late,
kept us all waiting,
never late now,
those pangs of hunger,
they hit the house in decibels,
shaking the house to it's foundations.
feed him,
he settles,
sleep,
few hours more rested peace,
he is really very good,
only cries,
when he wants food!
(C) Livvi
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 7:24 AM UTC
*~
**Him
sits in an arm chair
slouched and relaxed,
watching her
with a glass of whiskey
in his hand**
~
Her
lays on the bed
naked, long legs spread
watching him
watching her.
~
**Him
asks her to do
what he had
been dreaming of
even before seeing her naked.
Beautiful scenery**
~
Her
strokes light and feathery, at first
delicate fingers tracing
up and down
while the other hand
on her breast
tipping her nip
~
**Him
mesmerized by the show
he takes a sip of whiskey
the burn does not compare to
the burn growing in his pants**
~
Her
dips a finger inside,
spreading the glistening liquid
found across her inner lips
increasing the pressure
and moving from side to side
~
**Him
doesn’t know where to look
as she concentrates
on her ******
pulling at the tip
she gnaws her bottom lip
he settles on her eyes**
~
Her
picks up speed,
the circles of her fingers
smaller and smaller,
focusing on her pearl
shallow breaths growing rapid
as she nears her peak
~
**Him
slips out of his shirt
he starts to sweat
unbuckling his pants
to release
the growing pressure**
~
Her
tilts her hips
finding the optimal position
to intensify her pleasure
~
**Him
holds his breath
to hear the
gasping of her breath**
~
Her
eyes on him, longingly,
back arches,
head falls back
and lips part
“Oh God”
in heavy breath
~
**Him
“Amazing”
whispers unsure he said it aloud**
~*
Jan 10, 2018
Jan 10, 2018 at 8:05 AM UTC
Platonic Love Song
The wind in our hair as our lungs work
Screaming out the lyrics to a teenage summer
As we drive free, racing, to the waves and mountains
Lights in our eyes and hands over hearts
Youthful yearning fills us, as we get caught chasing the sky
Her laughter fills my soul and she begins to dance
While she wraps her arms around me, safe
A fire blazes, but our smiles are what light up the night
We make the stars jealous,
They beg for half of our shine
Embers and vapour fill the air,
Hands trading drinks and smoke and care
Music floats and lyrics sink in
Lips trading stories and laughter and kisses
Engines start, stop, jump, and rumble
Her eyes gleam and shift, catching attention
Hypnotising and beautiful,
They draw us in, keep us safe, and we ask to stay.
Let yourself love your friends. Let yourself stay with them.
She pumps music into our lives, her voice loud
We dance to the wild tempo of our heartbeats
Crass and catching, her voice settles in us
Let people in, even when it’s hard. Let yourself love them.
She scrunches her face up and tosses in jokes,
Making us smile at any price,
She helps us laugh the pain away.
Let people love you back.
I know it can be hard but...
She covers her smile with a hand,
Else she’d blind us, but we’d be alright,
If that could be the last thing we see
If you aren’t in love with your friends, where is your absolution?
She swings her hips and we get lost in her lips,
The gold on her skin, the brown in her eyes,
Entrancing on a new level, and we exalt
If you aren’t in love with your friends, then something is wrong.
She grabs our hands, reviving and vital,
Her shoulders jump and so do we, she’s got us on our feet
Her energy is infections, makes us forget imperfection.
If you aren’t in love with your friends, where are you spending your time?
Existing in a different state, but in the same hearts,
And we are all staring at the same jealous stars.
She feels like a home you’ve never been too.
If you aren’t in love with your friends, then you’re not doing it right.
Because for me, they define ride or die,
The first loves of my life, they mean open
Open arms, open homes, open hearts
They are coffee in the cold and make up in the night,
Empowerment in the dark and hope in the now.
Love isn’t just for spouses and partners,
Love is for those who you know with your heart,
Who’s soul touched yours, and said,
“Hey, it’s been a while. I missed you.”
And if you haven’t felt that yet then I’m sorry,
But don’t worry, you’ll find them.
And when you do, it will be like coming home.
And you’ll know.
Jan 30, 2018
Jan 30, 2018 at 3:00 PM UTC
The sharp line separating where the sun met your skin
And where it was protected by your shirt is more prominent than ever
Because you forgot to lather on your sunscreen.
The dirt settles into a thin film
Covering every inch of your body
Caking into your hair making it feel
Like you haven't washed your hair for days.
The bugs are constantly buzzing around your face
Leaving bites up and down your arms
Making them itchy and irritated.
But, the sunburns, dirt filled clothes, and bugs
Only strengthens my love for the game.
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 3:36 PM UTC
Infinitely and often nightly but very quietly
I creep into the garden shed
and make a bed among the flower pots
where those dainty blooms with purple spots
spot me
and open up their eyes to see who sits among the rakes and spades
and somewhere in those dappled glades
my eyes will rest upon a cur-ved apparition and entirely of an auto responsive
suggestion
I will greet her with a midnight smile taped on my lips
and when my heart has done its forty skips and my body settles down
I invite her to come a little close and sit beside me by the oak tree
she
smiles in a light to brighten any night and any day I know would be proud to say
go with the moment it is yours to own
but on my own trapped in a shady place
I face the fact that
this place in the garden shed is only pictures in my head
and I retreat
beat it back indoors where the thunderous snores of all my many days
come back to haze me in some juvenilish way
it's the way of it
it is the way and I have bitten off more than a piece or two
and flown too close to sit upon the heat
of the sun
burned my bridges
burned my ***
and never learnt to hold my tongue
but it is the way
and one day the way will become oh so clear
the potting shed that's in my head will disappear
and in its place
the face I look to meet
will greet me
deferentially I shall shape my tongue to fit around the words I want to say
It is and always has been
this way.
Jun 5, 2013
Jun 5, 2013 at 5:00 PM UTC
with respect to your hair man
play with it, been living large
so you ain't got time to cut it
put it in a ponytail that puts mine to shame
it's a little weird talking about your hair
seagulls make a birds nest on it
it's a hair song, sing songs along the cold air
picasso paint it well, redoing the blue three hundred times
police pull ya over because of it
sometimes ya skin color makes it knappy
like the way it settles on my blue jeans
when you rest your head on my lappy
Jun 3, 2018
Jun 3, 2018 at 11:38 PM UTC
Tiny pairs of wings in colours of lavender & mint
flutter over rose chiffon, hanging over the curtains of my window
Outside, the world settles slowly in the white night. It's most unbearable because I recall that such lovely creatures have no place
in this stoic wasteland at all.
There is no warm wind to lift their feather-light wings,
nor flowers in which they may sip on
delicately
Jack Frost would nip at their tiny bodies
Father Winter would freeze their wings in motion
The cold winter wind would whip their breaths away. A sunrise pattern on the snow, littered with colourful decay.
Broken butterflies-
frozen; for the world on display
I still collect my voice with a tone of surprise, that they continue to flutter by inside next to this bed in which I lay.
For without your arms wrapped around my waist
the air in here is much the same,
As what lies beyond the window pane
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 4:53 PM UTC
I once found a field,
A beautiful field.
A field that humans have not disturbed.
I lived by the trees near this beautiful field.
But I lived in complete ignorance,
as two men, each with a *****
came to the middle of the grass,
and struck down a wooden plank.
Before long, my forest disappeared.
Instead of grass growing,
The only thing that surfaced,
was the pale gray stone that was laid there.
I watched as they dug deep into the ground,
where tall boxes of stone and glass rose.
They stood proud against one another,
one building higher than the last.
But they blocked my view,
of a once beautiful sky.
Before long, the field turned into a city,
Cars and buses drove though the winding streets.
People soon started to appear,
and the field I once knew was long forgotten.
A fountain has now been placed,
where the pioneers have struck their plank,
With no tree in sight,
I throw the last seed into the water.
Where it settles to the bottom with coins and marbles,
never to sprout.
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 6:38 AM UTC
His confessions were slow and seldom
Whereas yours fall rapid and steady
From your lips, dipping down
To kiss my body
His loneliness was everlasting
Whereas yours settles for nothing
Looks me square in the eyes
Daring me not to smile
His words left me bruised and blackened
Whereas yours find soft healing
When you tell me you'll do small things too
To make me happy
Jul 3, 2018
Jul 3, 2018 at 4:03 PM UTC
A vacant room of dark spaces,
where furniture once lay
An empty lot of trash and cracked concrete
Where weeds take root with hopes of becoming trees
And cobwebs span for miles
Worn wind chimes still glisten in sun
Papers of bad handwriting fly with the wind
This place left unoccupied for so much time
Small lives make home in the walls,
While this home settles further beneath dirt
This place reminds me of our forgetfulness, our need to not rebuild
As a place turns old we leave it behind,
never to fix again,
never to feel loved again
Weeping floorboards
Walls crying tears of yellow paint
Roof caving in feeling hollow
Abandoned places
Forgotten
Always forgotten
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 3:42 PM UTC