"shivery" poems
There was a girl.
A girl I once knew
who never felt cold.
Never felt cold when
taking a shower in
freezing water.
Never felt cold
when she would stand
at the bus stop in 6
degree weather with barely
anything on. Never felt
the slightest bit of cold
even when she layed down
in the snow for 5 hours.
In fact, she loved the cold.
She embraced it; she loved how
cold the winter was in
Michigan. She loved feeling
the icy wind hit her face and
body when she wasn't wearing
much. She loved the
way it made her hands and face feel
anesthetic . It made her feel alive, refreshed
even, and
that’s all she ever craved for.
But she still never
felt how cold it actually was.
But why?
Why did she love
it that much?
Why couldn't she ever
feel frigid like everyone else?
Why love something,
something you cant really feel?
Because even though she couldn't
feel how shivery cold
it was on the outside,
maybe that’s how her heart
was. Maybe that’s how
she felt on the inside.
Numbing cold.
Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 6:16 PM UTC
take some time to count, to verb
some syllables for some wrecked
page. a Lostman's book in ****
tered thought; nature, and death,
and sole body. then, when she talked
about her better years as those of
drug-induced past-life. younger than
yesterday kinda years. that which finds
metronome slowing, the Universe energy
vibrating weaker while growth found in
apathy, and solid death of purposeful
movement.
then a shot,
that moment to break from wretched self-
criticism -- that post-idyllic criticism --
that which hinders forward movement.
the shot,
which finds contentedness thru some
repetitious mentality . .
[lost it]
. . repetitious fallacy?
[got it]
let's leave some break for transmigration
in thought to prelude of forward movement.
understanding now is not enough; but
agreement in hast. but dissolution to that self-
efface hit rapid. brought back, her thought
of the younger than yesterday years; now,
now is the greatest point of any a count-
less past-life. from them, no matter a sweating
season, the Long Dark, or the cycle-seasons,
all is now. and never
did she or i talk of the past again.
our foci, [one second]
drawn to point of second and next second upon
following and on for another. now, shivery
wine-drunk, reminiscent of tiny furnace and
woolen blanket apartment. that now,
that was true striving of second successful ***** Den.
a great thought downfall; she's been long gone.
[next second now]
she complained of the wind. her eyes were freezing,
she said; her life has begun to bore her, she said.
we moved to playground and climbed in the
slide; a nice dampening. cold plastic barely felt for
her. this Long Dark, and in it, an always fleeting
warmth. [break
to **** for concision in thought]
now then, a diner, of course this face is known. they also
know a companion vacant. asked of, pleasant enough;
responded, well enough.
[disheartened, well enough]
and then, wholly intrinsic with a blasphemous self-
Oralee while passing time trying to think. unable,
if only for sole point of trying. and epochs worth,
thought and gone; now compulsive, now unres-
ponsive, now chewing lips because they're part gum.
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 5:58 AM UTC
Her words stabbed me,
her shivery frosted words,
gouged my eyes out,
scooped them out with the grace of
an armless ***** on steroids and
spilled my guts on the ground.
Then she left me to die in the desert of forgottenness.Where the scavengers stripped me to the bone
and the sun bleached moon, gazed upon my essence then drank deep and loud.
My mind is now vulcanized.
my mind has been treated with sulfur to enhance it's durability.
So, you can stretch it,
and say what you want baby
cos I don't give a ****
Feb 1, 2013
Feb 1, 2013 at 4:16 PM UTC
This site does not permit the caesura divisions at all and I will not post the poem without them. You can find "Antihistamine Dreams with a Little Touch of Grendel in the Night" at my own not-very-well constructed site,
https://reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com/2019/01/antihistamine-dreams-with-little-touch.html
where the divisions are merely botched, not forbidden.
(I think it's rather nice, shivery little poem, especially if read around a campfire at night)
“A little touch of Grendel in the night” is a takeoff of “a little touch of Harry in the night” in Henry V.
Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 2:55 PM UTC
Once upon a thyme
In an herbed house
Their lived a witch
Whose ripe rampion
Was so overpowering
That the neighbors
Left bottles of febreeze
On her doorstep.
The witch didn’t care
- But
In the flat-ironed town
Of Lunch time lipo
Where you were defined
By your eating disorder
She looked like
An Omish escapee
*With hips that wriggled
And ******* that jiggled*
So her cell phone number
Wasn’t in anyone’s top five
-Except
For one confused neighbor
Who never made it to college
And got to experiment
Like a true Gemini.
Now imagine the witch’s surprise
When this neighbor confides
That she would love to eat
Her ripe rampion.
- Naturally
The witch agreed.
It was nice to have something
That somebody else wanted
Though it was exhausting
For the neighbor
Who munched day and night.
And if one surprise
Wasn’t enough
The witch discovered that her
Neighbor was pregnant.
Now the witch had many powers
But that wasn’t one of them.
It appeared that her neighbor
Found her husbands
Carrot patch to
Quite esculent also.
And the witch
Being a picky Virgo
With a jealous Scorpion moon
Thought that her neighbor
Should not
Have spun around the vegetable
Color wheel quite so fast
And so in a fit of temper
She stole her baby
And locked her away
In an ivory tower.
Initially everything worked out
Until the oil crisis
And then the witch couldn’t
Visit Rapunzel quite as often
As she would have liked
Not with gasoline
Being so expensive
And so Rapunzel became bored
And started chatting to
Prince charming
On her face-book wall.
The witch took all the hopeful Trojans
That the prince had left
On previous visits
And tied them together
To form a rubbery step ladder
And when she heard him shout
"Rapunzel, Rapunzel…let down your hair!"
She threw this at him…angling it
With just a little thread of hate.
Prince charming grew all shivery
And put on his worst
Austin powers "Oh behave" accent
*Thinking of the delights
That awaited him*
However, his shivery-ness
Soon became a full body tremor
When the witch met him
On the top rung
And he knew quick enough
This wasn’t a
Ménage à trois.
The prince spent many months
In traction
Recuperating from his fall.
Rapunzel was sent off
To boarding school.
And as for the witch…
She dropped twenty pounds
And got her own reality show
Housewives of Salem county.
Feb 4, 2017
Feb 4, 2017 at 11:21 PM UTC
I might not have the words to describe how I feel about you
But I hope you can see it in my eyes
The way you make me feel
and the smile I can't help but have when you're around
The shivery feeling I get whenever you touch me
And the way you set my heart flying
You're always on my mind
And I get distracted by you so easily
When we're not together I count the days until I can see you again
The way you hold my hand,
so gently, yet tight enough to never want to let go
The way you kiss my cheek,
just a tiny little peck, and I see stars
The way you wrap your arms around me
please never let me go
Forever in your arms
and Always in your heart
I want to be your forever
Sep 16, 2012
Sep 16, 2012 at 12:53 AM UTC
Severe Siberian shivery stinging
Below freezing, bitter, bleak, brisk
Painful, penetrating piercing
Frigid frosty frore
Icy intense inclement
Copyright 2014
All Rights Reserved
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 11:27 AM UTC
This is possibly
the stupidest idea in
all of literature
“one becomes
forever
responsible for what
one
captivates”
nonsense,
and it was not written for you
(I knew it all along)
don’t steal me
from us
don’t forget there is always
something
beyond you
I was there
(since the beginning)
I am also
entitled
to the blame
and I COULD have done
otherwise.
But why should I
when
you have
the loveliest weaknesses
&
you
have the most
charming
flaws
&
your shivery hubris
was the thing I most closely touched
that resembled love?
Be happy,
dear,
be kind to yourself:
(You’re adorable
when you break.)
don’t be so possessive
about beauty
and pain.
Aug 9, 2012
Aug 9, 2012 at 11:57 AM UTC
As the green fields of desire turn to dust,
And the shining armor is covered in rust,
Cynicism catches reality with her embrace,
While hope takes one last bow in grace.
All that is left is a harsh, crooked grin,
Served by despair who knows he’ll win.
Though his diamonds will leave you shivery,
He is now your finest piece of jewelry.
When taking that frightening leap in tears,
You hear the cries of devotion so near.
In the dark, misgiving cradles your head,
They are dying, these words you left unsaid.
Faith is the light trying to break through,
Yet the choir of doubts still leaves you blue.
Anger and bitterness will claim what’s yours,
Forcing patience to leave these shores.
Looking upon someone you wish you were,
You turn your head away from the blur.
Sweet affection held your hand for a while;
Now regret will walk you down the aisle.
But you request oblivion to stroke your mind,
Yet his stubborn being is not too kind.
Emptiness however is such a fine gentleman,
In him you find your trust to be genuine.
Feb 13, 2013
Feb 13, 2013 at 12:24 PM UTC
Great ***** of fire, dart through the bones.
That muscle pumps ridged ****** stones.
The bitterness won’t leave her alone.
Alone, the bitterness left her home.
Home could not be found for help.
In search she went beyond herself.
Beyond her thoughts, she started to yelp.
She yelped until emotions no longer were felt.
Out of the blue, she felt this soothing breeze,
That cooled her bones that danced like trees.
Her blood streamed rivers flowing into seas.
No longer in confinement her minds at ease.
Hugs and kisses, I felt those before.
Moon lit dinners, chocolates roses at the door,
The dreams sold were sweet to the bitter core.
You sold me no dreams, yet gave me more.
How is it that you took this loneliness from me?
Destroyed my sadness, made bitterness flee,
“U” figured me out to the “T”.
I feel happy; I am blissful to feel free.
Through my unfathomable heart beats love.
It’s not broken or dead, a lively hub.
Peaceful and serene like the shivery white dove.
Chivalry, “I adore thee like the stars above”.
I was under the world, and now I’m on top.
Twinkling eyes, from the stars rain drops.
You dried the flooded garden like a mammoth mop.
I have someone to depend on, and my dreams they would not stop.
You’re the rush of excitement that cured my lifeless streak.
With your tenderness and care you clogged my tear ducts leak.
I have found what I longed for; I no longer have to seek.
Gone are the rain storms, the breeze blow by my silent creek.
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 10:22 AM UTC
I carry the
cruelty of Winter
Bleeds through all
of the seasons
Stops at your
heated Summer lips
My frostbitten lips
fear a kiss
The cold follows
with no reasons
Warm shivery sensation
like a splinter
On my mind
At the thought
Of both seasons
Meeting at once
Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 1:56 PM UTC
While you were gone,
I was dreaming fantastic dreams,
that make you seem,
ordinary.
And in these dreams,
So it seems,
I met the ocean deep below,
He grabbed me hold and told me he'd never let me go.
Why choose land when you can have the sea?
I'm just a summer's breeze
Rippling the water occasionally
But he admired my company (that's enough for me)
So I'm diving into the deep dark blue
To the parts of him no one knew
Purely encompassed in wavy conversation
The shivery conversations made of vibrations
*"And I asked myself about the present:
how wide it was,
how deep it was,
how much was mine to keep."*
Apr 9, 2013
Apr 9, 2013 at 10:12 AM UTC
“oh, how they will all bet on morrows that strain rills after dark,
and yet the Game, unpitying, regains its lordly behest at dawn;
lean back and feel the turn of things, the chance, the risk, the almost...
ante!”
⋮
this mania!
when it wreathes,
the imperceptible of myself,
it drains through me, sedulously,
hands aquiver, sight fretful,
and the bath of wanting (and not, ergo),
spewing and fusing
inside the etna of my inlying.
you are, then, obedience itself,
long before the grapevine,
before the Cards;
rails tarnishing, yet begrimed steel,
rather ossein, or thew,
turning to a suttee so pale, it forgets its ills.
and the trains;
yes, they were gushing, though not afore;
“did you think they would arrive for you?”
they smelt into clag,
into a mist of faces, barren,
swelling and shrieking of throe,
snaking, snaking down the spine of
the Stake.
slaves betting with their ilk of ardor,
when a match struck, belatedly,
but already it is leaning toward cinders,
its shine no more
than a laugh of people,
leaving the hall shivery in its bleat,
charcoals sighing their waning,
others honing their exit.
bitterly, bitterly, i am
left with nothing to hold but smoke.
but time, ah, time,
the nimble Host,
old trickster with his cuffs of lithe,
shuffling cloaks for loose change.
he and i,
always at the same table,
and i know his favorite sleight:
to grant the boastful player
a losing hand,
and winning eyes.
the coin is tossed,
to the Parlay; so soon cast,
so soon swallowed by the piker.
the crowd, they clap for a name,
but it is never genius they are crowning,
only luck,
foremost Dealer,
with that last word,
smiling as he lays it down:
only the blind Card turned upward.
~~~
and i,
sitting with my empty cup,
still growing a taste for losing
foolish, surely,
but the loss only deepens the greed,
doubles it, whets it past the reach of will.
so ring then, coin,
dull as you are, tattered,
clattering against the floorboards.
it tells me i am counted,
measured,
already spent.
yes, yes, it is only a caprice,
but it hews, it digs,
it laughs where no mouths are,
and i laugh back;
ante!
Sep 13, 2025
Sep 13, 2025 at 6:33 PM UTC
I wake up with birds chirping,
Is it spring already?
NOOOOOO, I am freezing
The cold, it is still shivery.
Jan 1, 2019
Jan 1, 2019 at 9:09 PM UTC
What a charming liar
As dangerous as a wild fire
Avoid falling in these webs of sin
Don't be victim to a wrongly desire
I've seen it ******
I've let it run loose
It's such a shivery feeling
Wanting to hang from a noose
Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 12:41 AM UTC
Aching...
Aching in a place where I only thought love was generated.
Frustrated...
Frustrated in a area where I thought, my thoughts sought and fought for understandings
Chilly, shivery, nippy, bitter,
Like the runt of a litter
Tired; not drowsy
Tired; not sleepy
Tired; not sluggish or slumberous
Tired as in worn, burned-out, weary...
...Done
It is not only that you do not feel the effects,
You don't even see them on my face
You look at me everyday,
I just look back
If you don't have a clue
If you don't ask, or don't care
That's a clue
That's my Q
Dont ask Y
When you become my X
...
At night I've been losing Zs
I have to start paying more attention to I
I gave up all of my energy, and now I'm running on E
So now I don't give a F
LOL (Lost Our Love)
You lost it too; I'm J/K (Just Knowing)
I'm glad IDK (I Didn't Kneel)
Now I have to B.S (Block Sensitivity)
And ***** (LET MY ******* ANGER OUT)
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 11:55 PM UTC
You remind me of that boy down the street
who rode his skateboard
running chills along my spine
in the heat of a summer evening,
the boy who inspired my mother to pray--
Lord, please protect her from those
heartbreaker eyes that gleam with
too much laughter and not enough love--
the boy whose July birthday I still remember
because he was bad in all those good itchy ways
begging me to just scratch a little harder now
though I was young with blunted fingernails
so he never meant more than
the diary buried in a box in my garage or
an shivery afterthought on summer nights,
but here you are, the boy next door made man
you meet me, still that girl yet woman so
what's running along my spine aren't chills
they're flames begging me to just burn a little badly
now, inspiring me to pray--
Lord, please put the fire out before I am consumed.
Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 8:45 AM UTC
Up from the deeps of darkest corners
my soul sees lightning
then hears a call
and as long fingers of love begin falling
from shivery heights
they start to distill
love's sweet nectar so I may be fulfilled.
A far ether-star loads and then installs
me in new time with
such awesome
style, my sky-boat takes its mooring
to line's full length
as now it hates
any but non-ventured high places.
Whimsy eats into my all-white awning,
because the grey cloud
which was on shore
has floated away, and the tallest
of rainbows is colouring
the past
out of my eyes, at long long last.
Sep 30, 2010
Sep 30, 2010 at 1:35 AM UTC
hello, your baby-brown-eyes flutter rad vibes into my shivery heart a mess with unsung feeling, we will stargaze a thousand nights together, this i know, my beautiful. your beautiful is torturous & seductive as hell, i long, i yearn, i spin, perpetuate circles my head bowed to your toes, tell me your gory & everything. i will keep you secret, i will keep you safe. summer's kiss bestowed upon our rosy cheeks, we will walk through winterland with hands clasped tight, it is salvation. hallelujah your unabashed love, your brimming heat, your humanity. connection to connection, we become live wires every time our minds marry themselves in electric emotion, light the night, so ******* beautiful. feel the love i send to you even when i am gone. together in entangled wavelengths, in constant thought. together in conscious attachment ascending rhyme or reason, in knowledge & understanding, in open wounds.
Sep 15, 2013
Sep 15, 2013 at 3:34 PM UTC
I stepped outside for a moment, simply to catch a breath on my porch,
and I saw that slivered Moon scooting behind those shivery clouds.
In a brief half-second I felt Her eons,
Her aged gravitational tumble,
Her pained and painted-on pagan sins of yore,
Her holy rejoinder of light against the darkness,
Her catechism of magic,
and the cold
empty doctrine
of Her orbital destiny.
I closed my eyes for a moment, to shut out Her history...
to try and catch that breath...
But She would not relent.
She was insistent, pulling my eyes open and up
and She offered me her memories
and begged in Her dry eternal voice
to allow me Her touch.
I accepted. Felt Her fear as our rockets bruised Her dusty flesh
upon their uninvited landings
and scarred her with their burning departures.
When I had taken it all in, She disappeared behind one of those
shivery clouds
and I was able to
catch that breath
I had almost forgotten
I had meant to take.
I watch for Her nightly now.
Even when She is obscured by clouds
or maybe just on the other side of this earth-she-cannot-touch,
Her eternal dance partner.
I open my eyes and gaze up.
With awe and wonder and respect
to let Her know that in my small gravitational way
that there is at least
One son here who thinks of her
and who understands and appreciates her tidal Motherhood
who smiles beneath Her transient reflection,
holding that light dear,
and who, in turn,
reflects some of that light
back to Her,
with promised eye.
Feb 6, 2011
Feb 6, 2011 at 6:40 PM UTC
My fainting heart,
Where is thy glee?
My shivery heart,
Where is thy solace?.
Is it love,
That thou must find,
or this queer abyss of solitude,
That thou must flee?.
Either way,
Thy hapiness lie,
On the juncture,
Between Love, Solitude and Anonymity
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 2:52 PM UTC
I'm a sinner, since I'm a liar
A hardly describable swirling, sickening, stifling feeling
Seething air in my lungs, and my diaphragm
I holler "I'm fine!" What a lie.
I stare at the white, flawless lambs on my sacrificial alter,
unclear about their place in life.
How was it supposed to know
that it would be scarred by something
supposedly mightier than a sword?
For now it lay half finished
stared at by me, a small girl with curious eyes.
Pessimism stood close behind me,
biting my neck and draining me of
Blood red love and inspiration
Shivery, sleety, snowy, stinging breaths of depression
Caused my ideas to slip between my fingers.
She thought, "Sometimes I wish I could right my wrongs
And fix all the broken hearts and evaporate the tears,
But for now all I think I can do,
Is write poems."
Nov 6, 2012
Nov 6, 2012 at 3:47 PM UTC
The poem is the afterbirth,
A conflicts resolution, an outcome,
Battlefield debris, the residue of
An exacting vision, a sentiment surging,
And your army of words, inadequate to the task,
Fighting to capture that insight flashed,
Each word a soldier, disheveled,
Crying, let me live, let me be saved,
Let me make a poem,
Let it be inscribed upon my victorious flag.
The poem is the sweat left upon the brow,
Having exercised the five senses,
The salt of struggle and debate,
It's completion, each word,
Both a victory and a defeat.
To write down any old notion,
A la de da rhyme of late and fate,
To write to garner points and pins of glory,
Is just, well, ****** awful....
And
Mocks us all who ache
To write but a single line,
That uplifts the heart,
Eases pain, gives delight to strangers,
And makes you laugh out loud
With shivery pleasure,
That usurps a whole day and night,
That is a poets true measure.
Mastery of the poetic,
Measured not in quantity,
But in tears of satisfaction
When others love the taste
Of newly born stanzas
Upon their lips,
couplets born and transcribed
In the wee hours of the morn.
May 23, 2013
May 23, 2013 at 10:44 PM UTC
Coffeebooze does little
but make one shivery and shaky
and full of regrets. I believe,
after a long day of dizzying uncertainty
and tapping fingers,
that I am sober.
Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 12:13 AM UTC