"sough" poems
A dazzling sough,
The wind blows through, across the stunning white clouds, to Earth,
A dearness of the whistling, carrying a, warm breeze makes it worth
Worth but to say nothing less than; praise the new coming day!
Rustling the leafs, shaking them, letting them dance, then sway,
The wind is a transient traveler, rushing through this worldly life,
Gathering clouds together, a delicate drizzle is what they strive for,
Distorting, carrying, leading them towards the ground, wettening them in a scenery of a wonderous sight, fertilising the soil more,
Howling in a showering yet intimitating sense of the changing scene,
Blowing over each drop of pure water on the green coloured grass,
Spring is truly a season where dreams can sore,
It gives us the idea of something greater, something more,
Coming with ups, then downs, it gets carried away by the wind,
Until finally, the sunny days of summer are to come,
Sit down with me, listen to the sighing of the wind, don't be lonesome
By the sound it makes, the gentle song which blows through our ears
Can you hear it whispering ?
~ Umi
Apr 18, 2018
Apr 18, 2018 at 6:14 PM UTC
In the dark, windy eve shines stark an orange light
Crisp and warm, caressing the wood curves gently; no fight,
The harsh burn breathes life to the embers, now shining bright,
A veil of smoke falls gently, hazy is the night.
Now traveling up the stock, whose polish: iridescent,
Up to the paling, rugged cheeks whose glow: florescent.
In the blue moonlight, his eyes shine pleasant,
Enjoying the taste, thought, life, love; vibrant.
Sitting in a weathered chair, creaking wood, rocking back to and fro,
He sat still, thoughtful, as pristine as wax, as delicate as snow.
Taking drags in the dark, the orange relax, a seedling starting to sow,
The stem broke the soil, words forming in his mouth, questions starting to sough.
He looked up from his stupor, sharp minded, clear and concise,
A solution to his problem, no matter its cause, had broken the ice.
Now he stood tall, elated, anxious, worried his words would suffice,
Then he sat back down, rewarded, confident his ideas would entice.
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 11:33 PM UTC
(Rock Lake, Canada)
In this country there is neither measure nor balance
To redress the dominance of rocks and woods,
The passage, say, of these man-shaming clouds.
No gesture of yours or mine could catch their attention,
No word make them carry water or fire the kindling
Like local trolls in the spell of a superior being.
Well, one wearies of the Public Gardens: one wants a vacation
Where trees and clouds and animals pay no notice;
Away from the labeled elms, the tame tea-roses.
It took three days driving north to find a cloud
The polite skies over Boston couldn't possibly accommodate.
Here on the last frontier of the big, brash spirit
The horizons are too far off to be chummy as uncles;
The colors assert themselves with a sort of vengeance.
Each day concludes in a huge splurge of vermilions
And night arrives in one gigantic step.
It is comfortable, for a change, to mean so little.
These rocks offer no purchase to herbage or people:
They are conceiving a dynasty of perfect cold.
In a month we'll wonder what plates and forks are for.
I lean to you, numb as a fossil. Tell me I'm here.
The Pilgrims and Indians might never have happened.
Planets pulse in the lake like bright amoebas;
The pines blot our voices up in their lightest sighs.
Around our tent the old simplicities sough
Sleepily as Lethe, trying to get in.
We'll wake blank-brained as water in the dawn.
3.8k
Envy lies naked on a rose --
Blindly, on bed;
Tonight, -- we bind to shed
Ourselves from purpose
And dread
That sough us from hearing, --
Fearing...
The silent touch of Moire.
It lies darkly on thy posture
Of many a figure
And requiem for my mockingbird, --
Those of many a love of my mockingbird,
(The Reaper
And my keeper
Of my very own
Requiem for a mockingbird)
Alone, all alone
We bind to shed...
Alas! Now Death
Comes as Nepenthe for my mockingbird,
(The only love
I've come to unravel the love
Of my mockingbird)
Now, breathing from her now, the breath
Of my heart leapt
Out from a mockingbird
And slept
As my eyes bind dead...
This is a requeim for a mockingbird, --
The Reaper
And my keeper
Of my very own
Requiem for a mockingbird,
Alone, all alone
We bind to shed
Ourselves from purpose and dread
That sough us from hearing, --
Fearing...
The silent touch of Moire...
Jun 23, 2011
Jun 23, 2011 at 10:57 AM UTC
Beyond the butterfly feelings
In the whirlwind of our intimacy
A full option sensual desire
Distance distancing distance
All at once till we hit the ******
The zenith of pleasures and feels
Like the breakthrough of Miracles
Sounds of Soughs, ex and in hales
Hot Moments of breathlessness
Scratches of speechlessness
Mouth agape, dead-in-moments
long squeezes, short grips, sweats
Body vibrating, breath whispering
Emotions revealing, turn ons
Passions imploding, hard ons
Intense kinetic motions of kardias
Slippery shining fleshy mammalians
Till the moment of implosion: ******
That sweet ecstasy moment when
all that exists is what you feel
Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 10:09 AM UTC
Through silver maple and winding hedgerow wind-songs sough April’s hearsay. In stoic silence, spring’s axes—shuttered trunks—goad their fruit’s swelling. Clouds tumble in like sea foam, blue splinters flashing out: incorporeal troposphere, a halo entrapped by math.
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 6:00 PM UTC
The country lane is covered with powdery snow,
Like a blanket it clasps the street and field;
The icy wind is uttering an auspicious sough.
Trudging towards my destination that niveous fir trees yield.
Amidst the eerie lonely hush, down in the frozen valley,
A glimmer of light reflecting on crystalline snowflakes;
The place appearing like a lighthouse down the alley.
I reach your house, next to the frozen solid lake,
It is the only bright glare in this devouring black night.
You are my stars in the universe, guiding me through the dark,
You are my anchor in the untamed tides, precluding me to roam;
And with a violent streak of intuition, like a sudden spark,
A feeling of bliss - I realize I finally arrived at home.
Dec 1, 2017
Dec 1, 2017 at 1:09 PM UTC
The days of summer pass so quickly now
The roses are withering on the vine
Warm hot breezes through the tall pine trees sough
Where are all the vanishing sands of time?
Sunrays of gold ne'er slant across the path
The end of July is already here
Daisies have shed all the petals she hath
So soon to bid goodbye to summer dear
Bid sweet adieu to the sonnets of time
Nevermore the sweet July sun to see
Behold the fading sky in its own prime
Farewell to the sighing waves of the sea
Sweet summer days are coming to an end
Enjoy life while it is still left to spend
~Marian
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 6:06 PM UTC
Summer has murdered the fairest of Springs
Green leaves have withered upon the tree boughs
Ruby-Throated Hummingbirds do not sing
Breezes no longer through the pine trees sough
Summer has torn out the heart of the dove
Sunshine no longer dapples on the path
Butterflies no longer dance up above
Summer is glad with the power it hath
Now the bluest of skies has bled to grey
Farewell, sweet sapphire skies no more to see
Now there is only one hour in a day
And withered flowers never waltz gladly
Spring is dead and Summer is here to stay
Now Time and Happiness have run away
~Marian~
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 1:50 PM UTC
much money is to be made
it's a lucrative trade
this industry does quite well
its daily profits do swell
much sough after is the hardware
buyers seek it here and there
the deals for these goods
affect the world's many neighborhoods
hear the jets flying overhead
their payloads of bombs
the women and children dread
rifles killing people by the score
in all areas
of the Middle Eastern corridor
men in suits sit comfortably
they're selling vast amounts of weaponry
their kind of business deals
in all manner of fatalities
the military industrial complex
is cashing in on war
it is making billions of dollars
killing for revenue galore
each day death tolls
on our planet accrue
the arms sellers
gaining from the deadly slew
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 9:01 PM UTC
Six steeple towers, cold as steel, drab daggers in the sky!
Their hallowed halls no longer call when breezes wander by –
for, filled with dread to wake the dead, they've ceased to sough or sigh.
Coiled candle sticks! Their twisted wicks no longer 'lume the cracks
with dying flame, subdued and tame, mid pendant pearls of wax,
since deference to innocence dissolved in molten tracks.
Above! The dismal ditch of dusk reveals a velvet streak,
through which the winter’s wicked winds will sometimes weave and sneak,
and faraway a cable sways, a bridge clings hushed and bleak.
Thin shadows shift, like silver shafts, across the cruel moraine
reflecting white a wisp of light in ebon beads of bane
which casts a crooked smile across a faceless window pane.
Wan neon lights glow through the nights, through darkness sleek as slate,
while lanterns (hovered, high above, in lurid swinging gait),
haunt ballrooms, bars and bare bazaars, though no one's there to fete.
The souls who come with jagged tongue won't sing a silent psalm,
nor paint pale lips with languid quips to pierce the deathly calm,
nor pray for mercy, grace deferred, nor beg lethean balm,
nor yet redress the emptiness that shifting shades embalm –
they've seen, you see, life’s brevity, and face it with aplomb.
Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 3:57 PM UTC
I'm inhaling
In a constant state of clinomania
I become a pendulum as she's away
Cigarettes when I couldn't sleep
And other times to estivate
Harrowing and haunting journey back
Through all these darkened waves
Your many colors could light up the room
I'll lay awake and I'll dream of yesterday
I'm exhaling
Anonymous hiding from the populous
Angered by incompetence
A life of acclivity, means a life of vacivity
The black monstrous are not unique
Every week, felt like driving
Into the trees
So long
To bare
To grasp
Thin air
Jun 23, 2016
Jun 23, 2016 at 9:44 AM UTC
My heart has been arguing lately
He says brain does not understand
Brain says he's so clever
He tends to do what's right
While my heart feels so beggar
He makes him feel like a blight
Heart says he found a girl
brain says "another?"
as heart claimed "she's pure as a pearl "
brain says "i'd like to meet her further"
The day comes when they finally meet her
She's alive, vivid, unique, just as heart promised
Brain said "We can't" - as he walk away
Then heart was left alone as their love polished
One day brain came back, he found heart in a corner
Brain asked "what's wrong", as heart said "I think I love her"
You say you love her - says Brain, Then What's the problem?
"Our love cannot blossom, time stole the pollen"
"She turned 16, as we turned 19"
You see brain, you were right
Brain says - "Do you love her?"
as heart replies - "I think I do"
But our love is forbidden
well, at least that's what they sough
Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 2:43 PM UTC
Trees, so many trees...
Old man at the end of the lane
Stops a bit in his walk,
Feels a little lame,
Catches breath,
Turns 'round and 'round
To see and try to see.
Can't find his memory for the trees.
Frost's woods march on ahead;
Deep woods follow and surround,
Blot sun and moon and city lights.
Whispers of other-wheres and other-whens
Sough softly, speaking of forgotten glens
Now nearly lost to drums of ears and eye-owned lens;
The nostrils' senses feathered, hold only memories.
A lonely venture,
Being out on woodland walks
In growing dimness,
Plodding slow uncertain paths
That wander aimlessly away
From moving water.
Dec 1, 2011
Dec 1, 2011 at 5:38 PM UTC
We lived in a house a cleric built
In fifteen sixty-three,
Deep in a copse of Roman Elms
A grand and mighty tree,
The place was Tudor, half timbered,
And it creaked in every storm,
The wind was rattling through the eaves
Before we both were born.
We saw it up in the window of
The Realtor, going cheap,
It needed some TLC because
Its look would make you weep,
It badly needed a paint job and
Some timbers plugged with tar,
The years of rot had disfigured it,
‘Are you interested?’ ‘We are!’
Dead leaves had cluttered the downstairs rooms
And damp had swelled the floor,
The leadlight windows were dark with gloom
There were rats down in the store,
We worked and slaved on it, Jill and I,
Till it soon became a home,
Nestling in a hollow that
The locals called a combe.
I’d lie awake in the poster bed
That had been since Cromwell’s day,
The beams and curtains were overhead
And the wind would make them sway,
While Jill slept soundly, I still could hear
The wind sough through the trees,
Come rattling up to the shutters and
Slip gently past the eaves.
But then some nights, I’d hear some muttering
Down there by the elms,
Like ghosts of soldiers, loud and stuttering
Underneath their helms,
And then I’d hear the sound of marching
To a Roman beat,
There wasn’t even a pavement but
It sounded like a street.
A street that clattered with cobblestones
To the sound of chariot wheels,
I’d stare on out from the window-sill
To see what night reveals,
But nothing moved in the shady wood
To make those strangest sounds,
I searched and searched in the daylight, through
Those ancient wooded grounds.
Then one day digging a garden patch
I came across a stone,
That held a funny inscription on
The face, that smacked of Rome,
I think it mentioned a Lucius
From Legion Twenty-Nine,
I pried it out of the ground and then
I knew what I would find.
He lay there still in his breastplate
With his helmet and his sword,
His sandals still on his feet and tied
On tight, with a rotted cord,
The skull stared up at me in dismay
As if to say, ‘Who’s there?
You’ve broken into my endless sleep,
Invaded my despair.’
I swiftly covered him over so
That Jill would never see,
A sight to give her the nightmares that
I knew would come to me,
But then I settled his stone upright
That he might rest in bliss,
And that was the end of the mutterings,
From that day until this.
David Lewis Paget
Jan 19, 2017
Jan 19, 2017 at 7:34 AM UTC
They’d shovelled her husband into the ground
Before she got to the grave,
She wasn’t able to keep good time
And her husband used to rave:
‘I spend my life, waiting for you,
You’ll be late for your funeral,’
That wasn’t due, but it may come true,
She was late for his, do tell!
He wasn’t a very pleasant man
He was known for his violent moods,
She’d married the guy, then wondered why,
He was often downright rude.
She knew what he was capable of
For he’d often flipped his lid,
And left a trail of destruction then
For that was the thing he did.
If only she had got to the grave
In time for a swift goodbye,
And with a spray, sent him away,
She may have just heard him sigh.
But he must have known she was still at home
When the hearse, with him inside,
Arrived at the local cemetery
On time, but without his bride.
She lay awake in the bed that night
And thought she could hear him breathe,
Just across from her pillowcase
And her breast began to heave.
The wind sough-soughed at the windowsill
And she heard a step on the stair,
She wished for once she had been on time
To know she had left him there.
But she hadn’t seen the coffin drop
And the hole was almost full,
She’d asked that they uncover it
But she didn’t have the pull.
She only hoped he was six feet down
Unable to get back out,
When there was a rattle, out on the porch
And she heard a dead man shout.
‘Late, you’re late, you’re always late,’
It moaned, in an eerie tone,
‘You couldn’t get to the grave on time
So you left me all alone.
You’d not come even to say goodbye
And for that, you’ll pay the price,
For I’ll reach out of the grave tonight
And I promise, it won’t be nice!’
The shutters began to rattle and bang
And the door flew out, ajar,
The wind howled in like a taste of sin
‘I know just where you are!’
She shrieked, and pulled the covers up
And placed them over her head,
‘You just can’t stay, please go away,
You can’t be here, you’re dead!’
The covers were torn from her huddled form
And from what the coroner said,
‘Her face was white, she died of fright,’
Curled up in her lonely bed.
There was just one thing in the autopsy
That was missed, and he made a note,
The thing was botched, for her husbands watch
He found, was lodged in her throat.
David Lewis Paget
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 4:36 AM UTC
step off
down
into
blood red dust
of
rusted dreamed
thoughts
of steeled determintation
bought low by
times patient tick
word drought
poems
carcassed
about around
where here
where ....ether
wade through and wade through
this vacant unloved space
to sit under
the ego skeleton tree
here to listen
to the
brain bone leavings
rattle and sough
in memorie's
faint primative breeze
as we ......await the
..muse...all monsooning..
.. soothing rain
fall
to come ... festooned....
with the petrichor
fragrance of wild word blossoms and
newly wrought
thought blooms
until then
i sit drooling,
driveled,
words into shifting dust
destined to
fly and
flicker away
on the
next worlds sigh
fare well good bye adieu
namaste
till again
i await
the soft feathered bliss
kiss of rain
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 6:09 PM UTC
*
Crystallized moon beams
Fractured light of endless desire
Shimmer on you as our eyes meet
Beneath a canopy of gemstone brilliance
Pearl buttons glisten as fingers touch
Your smile grants permission
Leaving me breathless
Serenity of the night serenades
Our hearts beat in silent yearnings
Lips find your shoulders pure
Your neck sweet of perfumed nectar
A sultry sigh floats wispily to the heavens
As we lay entwined on feathery grass
Exploring each other amidst whispering winds
City lights twinkle, reflections on the bay
Unaware of our love, our moment
Leaves trickle to earth like tiny wings
As I gaze upon your silhouette
Mysterious against this velvet sky
Still beauty falls like summer rain
Drenching my sight with you
A full moon stares down smiling
Happily enchanted by our movements
Lifting and lowering, the dark horizon mirrors you
And still I linger upward at your charm
“I love you” I sough, feeling every pulsation of affection
Blissfully seeking, deeper inside
You peer down of hypnotic gazes
Harmonic moans sing in a sensual duet
Echoing through tree lined vistas
Increasing in tempo, you fall to my lips
Tongues dance to the melodic rapture
Fevered vibrations rhythmically sway
Clutching my arms, head arching back
Your hair like chocolate ribbons flowing
A shooting star trails your murmured gasp
Fireworks ignite within, intensely exploding
Illuminating your smile, your face
I rush to meet you, simultaneous sensations
Quivering starlit ecstasy shines
Collapsing in my loving arms
As the evening blankets us in euphoria
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 5:30 PM UTC
My life is the need
the telling you
it’s this.
The wait for the end
to end in something all over again
to end.
Heaven hands to handles around
bus metal shoot cold shrapnel up fingers
when the streets of the usual routes
jump
to tell something new. That lingers.
Ah, her expression through air
has showed me time.
It was hope—easy dizziness, speeches
bouncing off the sky’s edge for
destitute souls, long lost in whirring
sea-sharp staring…
Yes, I have claimed nothing but the battle.
It was white branded on the bus’s windows,
those other silent faces sitting being
subsumed in her airy picture, the
grumbling soothing sough of the motor preaching,
reaching over the cymballed mountains out there,
shaking the earth under my feet.
Then the crash, her face swept
under the bowing, the rolling waves, no breath, merciless.
Boding nothing but the battle. Still the battle.
An end to nothing.
Isn’t that something.
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 6:08 PM UTC
Why do I even have to ask such questions?
When the answers float in front of me,
What makes life a gift, or a curse? Is it circumstance?
Is there a choice in the matter at all? Or has this moment simply
been waiting to be since the beginning.
As haphazard as I am, even I find good days,
Even on the days I'm withering away inside.
I ponder my circumstances with the vigilance of a soldier
waiting for a stray bullet to pass by his head.
What a way to live, what a way to write poetry.
Let me tell you, poetry is about as good as ash
tossed in the sea.
It serves as a fossil, a reminder of the past, but through
the binoculars of a different person.
It doesn't explain a thing either, it's just text, an empty shell
Once the shell falls away, what remains is what we sough after, but never wanted.
Let me tell you, When pleasure is followed by pain
there's nothing but destruction
but when pain is followed by understanding,
well, maybe, just maybe.
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 7:05 PM UTC
Crystallized Moon Beams
Crystallized moon beams
Fractured light of endless desire
Shimmer on you as our eyes meet
Beneath a canopy of gemstone brilliance
Pearl buttons glisten as fingers touch
Your smile grants permission
Leaving me breathless
Serenity of the night serenades
Our hearts beat in silent yearnings
Lips find your shoulders pure
Your neck sweet of perfumed nectar
A sultry sigh floats wispily to the heavens
As we lay entwined on feathery grass
Exploring each other amidst whispering winds
City lights twinkle, reflections on the bay
Unaware of our love, our moment
Leaves trickle to earth like tiny wings
As I gaze upon your silhouette
Mysterious against this velvet sky
Still beauty falls like summer rain
Drenching my sight with you
A full moon stares down smiling
Happily enchanted by our movements
Lifting and lowering, the dark horizon mirrors you
And still I linger upward at your charm
“I love you” I sough, feeling every pulsation of affection
Blissfully seeking, deeper inside
You peer down of hypnotic gazes
Harmonic moans sing in a sensual duet
Echoing through tree lined vistas
Increasing in tempo, you fall to my lips
Tongues dance to the melodic rapture
Fevered vibrations rhythmically sway
Clutching my arms, head arching back
Your hair like chocolate ribbons flowing
A shooting star trails your murmured gasp
Fireworks ignite within, intensely exploding
Illuminating your smile, your face
I rush to meet you, simultaneous sensations
Quivering starlit ecstasy shines
Collapsing in my loving arms
As the evening blankets us in euphoria
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 7:08 AM UTC
Your kisses drizzle under my skin
they buzz in all directions
My arms and legs are panting
Your breath, I feel it whispers
that I am enchanted forever
My desire sighs for more
Your hands splashpatter
they rustle me completely wetterwet
My sweat gushes in your mouth
Your muscles dance and drone
they sulphurize thunder in my nose
My ears sough and sizzle
Your pelvis rages in me
pommels of fireworks explode
hunted by my heart
May 26, 2021
May 26, 2021 at 4:18 AM UTC
"Leave me with questions and leave me hanging,
Don't look back even if I am following,
The sparkle burns in this winter, swirls of warmth under my skin."
Heard the mirth and heard the sough,
Of the fire that wants her tough,
Her eye is dancing with her lips,
Colours burst, and her palms lose their grip.
"Squeezed in the jostle, only one thing I see,
A blaze, a lightning that can set me free,
Flames I want to love and a heat I can't carry."
The pull on her breath grew way too strong,
It silenced her voice and took her along,
The stiffened flesh, it moved instead,
Wading in memories inside her bed.
"Flickering sails, names of ships inside my chest,
Moorings drifting to deep welters without rest,
And the hulls are shaking as the waves turn to a nest."
Dreams of high hopes in the morning,
Had her slumbered estrangement mourning,
And she made the effort hers,
So she'd keep his love safe from smother.
"What do your warm hands feel, when there's more than flesh and bone ?
What will your head think when the mat under us is gone ?
Take the words you have said, and take the ones I've blown."
Oct 22, 2018
Oct 22, 2018 at 1:13 PM UTC
Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 20/10/2019
Black thread spins itself,
slowly entwining your neck.
And it strangles you with might
all sorrows - soon will be gone.
In the distance, you hear the bells of Eternity,
foaming sough of blood is hissing in your ears,
your eyes wander around, around,
shaking like a wagon on potholes.
You are powerless against this great power
all your past is now lost:
devoid of regrets and all memories,
you are slowly heading towards the light
- a new Dawn there, in the darkness - is glowing.
Przemysalaw Musialowski 20/10/2019
* A new Beginning there, in the distance - is waiting.
Oct 19, 2019
Oct 19, 2019 at 9:49 PM UTC