"steeply" poems
Oh deep, dark depression,
my uninvited guest,
the persistence of oppression
is precluding my life’s zest.
The dark before sunrise
of a dawn that just won't break,
suppressed by a thirst for my soul
that only sorrow can now slake.
The wisps that you are weaving
are clouding my damp eyes,
a cold and cloying shroud
that’s covering all that I desire.
A void, with sides so steeply etched
and burning with cold dread,
I’m trembling now with fragile fear
and wondering if I dare tread.
Your shadow wraps me in its arms
to hold me once again,
a old familiar friend
that’s feeding fast upon my pain.
A symbiotic succor
and reluctant shield of sighs
from the turmoil of a life
that turned to tears before my eyes.
And the sleep within my veins
now washes over silent souls,
a mind numbing response
to a desperate, lonely call.
I’m crying out from within the prison
of this decaying fragile frame
and I hide my face behind a smile
from relentless passionate pain.
Oh deep, dark depression,
my uninvited guest,
the darkness you are dealing
leaves my soul with little rest.
Now your fog has engulfed me
to the edges of my world,
I hope and pray that one day soon,
my wings will be unfurled.
Written by Darren Scanlon, 2nd June 2014.
Revised 20th August 2015.
©2014 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 6:59 PM UTC
platinum your blonde is hair bristling 'neath
fingers you're perched
bob is
head, baby
your mouth full is and throat
steeply
climbs into
tight
release
Aug 24, 2012
Aug 24, 2012 at 6:01 PM UTC
last night I nearly lived,
in dream so make believe,
such a turn of sunshine
and hope was always true,
could cast away my sorrow,
beyond the dream horizons,
i saw painted, dim lit boats,
shrinking blue into oceans,
skipping in longest tides,
only wings can take me
there, to the outter shores,
beyond the dream horizons,
i cannot fly, I then thought,
as the lone seabird sails,
as such an angelic thing,
but see the sky is an arc,
any wing can show you,
just lend an limb or eye,
across the sun waves,
are new lands to make,
before any moon rises,
the sky is clearly woven,
skerries and the frosted
banks are steeply melting,
a lone grey gull cries over,
seabird in soul ceremony,
solemn with climbing sun,
i cannot fly, I then thought,
as the lone seabird sails,
as such an angelic thing,
merely I am human now,
awake from dream horizons,
dead alive without wings.
Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 3:46 AM UTC
deepest length, a truncated obesity, abruptly gradual: a stem pops gently to present colors damp. a pavilion of ugly columns, the streets a budding promise; akimboing in gross pleasure. and the jostling laughter of serious music says to languor apathy a locomotive steeply belching roses.
. .
?
Dec 15, 2010
Dec 15, 2010 at 11:32 AM UTC
A dozen years, the length of feline days:
compared to human lives it may appear
the cats lose out. To be a human pays.
I think on this, and on companions dear:
Successive cats whose whiskered lives touched mine
Have lain upon my lap— do you suppose
Their tiptoe through the years is but a sign?
I measure out my life with kitten toes.
As they and I pursue the hilly ways
that fill our lives, "Beware! The end is near!"
"Your death is nigh!" or some such friendly phrase
will tell me that it's all downhill from here.
And soon the slope more steeply will incline,
And drop away as quickly as it rose.
You trace the arc? My life is on the line:
I measure out my life with kitten toes.
Though now, my cat, we feel the sunshine's blaze—
your windowsill is warm, the skies are clear—
yet still I feel the sun's all-seeing gaze
remind me of the coming day, I fear—
the coming day I cannot feel it shine,
and on my face the smiling daisy grows.
I only have the one, where you have nine:
I measure out my life with kitten toes.
Prince, lord of cats, may endless meat be thine!
O grant that thine immortal princely doze
may evermore upon my lap recline!
I measure out my life with kitten toes.
May 22, 2010
May 22, 2010 at 8:14 PM UTC
first within, now without
steeply, darkly, hereabout
as above, so below
further still and down we go
as it is, and was before
ever deeper, evermore
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 6:48 AM UTC
Like two stars in the night sky
They are two glimmers on my heart
I hated to say goodbye
I miss them when we are apart
My love for them abided deeply
Now with them gone I miss them steeply
My love for them has and does not end
They are more than family and friend
Adopted, coalesced, part of my heart
You are not in my heart, you are my heart
I will care for you always
Love you forever
Remember you like sun rays
Always and ever
My little hearts
I hate to part
Loves of my life, little and dear
I'll always wish you to be here
I'll see you again
We will never end
Even in everafter
We will have our sweet laughter
Jan 30, 2021
Jan 30, 2021 at 9:56 PM UTC
Listen,
I wanna embrace a blanket of your sensuality.
I wanna abandon all rationality and create our own boundaries.
I wanna become in tuned with the vibrations of each other's souls.
Want you to climb so steeply within me that you can't find the way out of me.
See I don't wanna make love, I wanna create precious poetry.
While breathing the same rhythm.
You **** every stanza out of me.
Two pair of eyes undivided, two bodies ***** vigorous, exuding of familiarity.
Make a story out of me.
Feed it descriptions of true beauty.
Not shrewdly, but do it smoothly.
Let's co write a poem based on our union.
We can be a masterpiece.
Ink stains left in my bed sheets.
I'll lend you my body to use as a diary.
Release all frustrations as you lay your fervor out on me.
Send a chill of suspense intensely towards the inside of my thighs,
just where the margins would be.
Our minds are deadly.
Their correlation, deadlier.
We're writing words so compelling, while releasing showers from hearts too heavy.
Our poetry is nothing to compare to the regular.
Every inch of my body manifesting your touch readily.
I recede as you synchronize my private visions of a flawless fantasy.
Basking in this radiance as you guide your pen to an astonishing ******
Inducing my body to impasse in ecstasy.
Leaving me dripping with your artfulness.
As if announcing all expectations surpassed.
Drowning me in words that mirror ardor.
Each line so passionate,
I have no such memory of felicity that neither compares nor contrasts.
Every part of my skin left sensitive, tender, and fragile.
My body fluently floating, light as a feather.
Skin now designed and decorated with such puissant letters.
And God forbid we begin to forget the significance of our coalescence.
You can lay me down,
As you read it back to me.
This way, we can reminisce on the angelic medley.
Listen,
I don't just wanna make love,
I want our bodies to intertwine and invoke aesthetic poetry.
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 4:37 AM UTC
My foot sinks deeply into the snow.
The boots leave giant holes in the land,
while I follow the smaller fox prints.
Stumbling, for I have lost my way.
The sign for Bethlehem snow covered;
perhaps it is somewhere in east Vermont.
The trees are all barren from the cold.
The fox’s glare is often pitiless,
as pitiless as winters frozen touch.
Prophets and apostles migrate south now
along with the fowl of the air and Jews;
to where the signs are not snow covered.
New England longs for the warmth of spring,
but I pine for the deep Florida heat.
I want to watch the heron rise steeply.
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 9:59 PM UTC
steeply angled eyes
supported by hollow cheeks
stare from a semi-circular mirror
with a dark consequence of outrage
like a constricted sunrise
that appears to float
a pictorial cryptogram
defying a resisted
notation of gravity
they are eyes that
momentarily fascinate
then frighten
for you can see yourself
falling through a deep hole
in their vision
causing a complete
dissociation of identity
steeply angled eyes
are watching, watching,
watching.....................
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 5:42 PM UTC
If I were a wise old fool
Or a duck out of luck
Would I count my money
by thimble or by a dumping truck
I'm glad I have no such problems
I broke the rules and bank
I own a four cornered mansion
On every street with steeply sloping banks
I have no problems eating
I mark every foodline on a map
I own stock in Salvation Army
I bought off this persuasive chap
I worry not for tomorrow
Today is good enough for me
I've been told I have no future
So say the fortune tellers that is all they see
Oh well , oh whale , oh wail
It doesn't matter me
Time now for a free lunch
Then in your alley I will surely go to ***
Mar 2, 2022
Mar 2, 2022 at 7:30 PM UTC
Think thou and act; to-morrow thou shalt die.
Outstretched in the sun’s warmth upon the shore,
Thou say’st: ‘Man’s measured path is all gone o’er:
Up all his years, steeply, with strain and sigh,
Man clomb until he touched the truth; and I,
Even I, am he whom it was destined for.’
How should this be? Art thou then so much more
Than they who sowed, that thou shouldst reap thereby?
Nay, come up hither. From this wave-washed mound
Unto the furthest flood-brim look with me;
Then reach on with thy thought till it be drown’d.
Miles and miles distant though the grey line be,
And though thy soul sail leagues and leagues beyond,—
Still, leagues beyond those leagues there is more sea.
1.4k
Widening banks laden with grass
And the river runs calmly by
The birds of nature talk the talk
Whilst the mice scurry along
Trees that spiral into the sky
As the hills are steeply sloping
The once flat land that broke away
Now stumbles into the ground
And the river mouth consumes it prey
Whilst water mingles with earth
The sun bears naked its searing heat
Onto the weeds that tangle below
Making then wild and desperately restless
And clumsy under trampling feet
It's just another page of history
Falling beautifully by the landslide
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 4:34 PM UTC
The non-overlapping magisterium,
a law stating that science and religion cannot intermix,
separate chords strung from the same cloth,
vines splitting at the intersection of faith and reason,
barbs flush against the skin of the common,
man thinks he learned,
but is far from wise.
To narrow your mind so steeply,
is to hold back all that you are,
to be cut off at the knee,
giving into a disposition for failure,
for often has both religion and science failed,
wars fought in the name of God and race,
non-existent color lines we paint on the inside of our sleeves.
Science does not represent evil,
and religion does not represent good,
they merely represent two sides of the same coin,
one the corporeal and the other the ethereal.
Aggression is as human as the need to breathe,
and kindness is a forced characteristic,
but do not cast aside the flame,
for love and fury are intertwined,
but do not confuse these with wrath and lust,
the difference is in motivation,
so if you seek truth,
stare both in the eye,
the material and transcendent,
God and Mammon,
the lord and the beast,
the father,
a representation of the good in the human heart,
hold close these virtues,
but do not suffocate them,
and if the father is good,
then the beast is the black sheep,
representing that darkness inherent in the heart of man,
this personification of evil,
a scapegoat,
although we are caught in the tempter's snare,
he is not the source,
and if he is your reflection,
love him first and cast him off second.
And if someone protests your belief in the abstract,
I say love them,
but I also say stand up,
and do what you feel is right,
and walk your own way,
not the path chosen for you.
Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 1:07 PM UTC
Light setting in
The bedroom window open slightly
I gaze upon your face
Our chests are moving lightly
There's stubble on your chin
And the words that cloud my mind
Flow deeply to my lips
To my lips, they fly steeply
As we kiss
And I'd lay here forever, knowing this.
Feb 24, 2013
Feb 24, 2013 at 10:31 PM UTC
she sinks to her knees like the setting sun
all reds and golds and streaks of purple-blue
and weeps for the things and the places she has lost
just a child, steeply barefooting around gnarled upturned roots
afraid that if it rains again
she might never be able to find her way back.
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 5:30 PM UTC
There are days where the world makes me draw a blank, where nothing fits and all I do is think all ropes struck split-ended and torn no paths cross no links and certainly no endings. A trail begins and the hill drops down steeply low below my groans and moans of pain and distraught - I'm forced to appeal, to let them go. Jump! Jump! And I draw a blank.
Sometimes nothingness stares back at me; looming over me and my thoughts - overbearingly present consuming my mind until there's nothing left but this stark stinging sound scratching in my ear
I’m forced to itch an itch I can’t reach; unfulfilled and tense I’m annoyed and aggravated, in agony and anguish.
These days, which seem to last weeks, cut deep into the abyss of my memories;
who I was supposed to be. A dull glow of an image I traced in my mind steadily peering over my hollow body haunting all the squeaks and creaks of my joints.
I'm spooked by my naked brain bubbling pointless noise.
I lay lazily through my creepy trance as vines that held me tight debunk from my nerves. Painfully they un-tie my paralysis and I let my lungs pound the roof of my mouth with ghastly chokes of cursed air. Hours of mindless screeching.
I'm free!
My breath eases up
and my soul finally gets to explore
the deep universe I see
when closing my eyes.
Aug 7, 2025
Aug 7, 2025 at 1:10 AM UTC
I,ve unclosed
(and
i
will speak
slowly
trees
steeply uncrooked breathing 'gainst
the racing moon over the valley bending
swiftly thoughts of ungiant sprigs puckish
in the frailing summers wings
a wig of tender incandescent drops cavort
in silent wetness on petals the)
a cadence of caving murdered light
seamless fluid winsome dusting upon
the unserious lips of night flexing effortlessly
by their touch, and flaccid, upon mine
i am drugged
of lilywhite tubes; crumbs of hushed love
a draught of limpid steam. i
laced and foamy the jaw distends
Sep 9, 2010
Sep 9, 2010 at 11:23 AM UTC
i will die.
the sun,
and by the way
did you know?
(i do)
in the summer it
leaps wholly freshness
into the sweating backs of knees
a yowl
a dream
a distinctly arousing
a corded and steeply ***** shyness.
it peters sharply
from girl cuts
into niceness
a cringing of night
to less darkly foil
the trees
(amongst 'em
where will sleep
me when i
cease my hands to try) roots
reachness of worms
and the rushing of oceans
wind
wind
wind
coolly teasing
with teeth so
cruelly pleasing
(upon which rise
the curving hushness
of body's plummet
isthe
falling of darkness' lushness
Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 3:40 PM UTC
Unhugged
7 JUNE 2021
Unplugged and disconnected,
Estranged the viral way.
Time lost forever,
Socially astray.
Unarmed by sadness,
Care by stranger names ,
Forgotten days of gladness,
Life is rearranged.
One day the doors will open.
Never be the same.
Age line steeply sloping,
Most not in the game.
Clock slowly tocking,
No one can it tame.
Some are still talking,
Don't know who to blame.
Jun 7, 2021
Jun 7, 2021 at 9:39 AM UTC
her it
the soporific
very dreaming
split of
easy night
falls so lovely
brushed of balmy
hair short
in tender heap
of girlness heat
it the deftness
of a wrist
hangs
softly loose
uncurled
lightly the fingers
in
her such steeply wonderful brain
a song is me
by love's lips it
i
the earth the
night
echo primly
kissing
and
couth
so a fancy
is all the world
to her in lovely slumber's keep
such as i would like to enter
and of its beauty reap
a flower on who would rise
all youth in me to crown
and lay my middle finger
in crimson parting's drown
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 3:13 AM UTC
of the knit of life let's say there is something.
something so wonderfully to touch.
so beautifully easy.
Let's say of it fingers,
between its hair,
laughing.
Let's say of it,
with minute teasing brutality,
a slendering of being. instantly
which shudders
steeply into breathtaking darkness. let's
say wide our mouths to eat it.
(each morsel turgidly serene)
let's say dying(and let's).
die easily into it our bodies
as wan incredibly infinite destroying.
Nov 28, 2013
Nov 28, 2013 at 6:27 PM UTC
the dew of some mornings is a thing which is not unlike the kind nuisance of my lady's graceless feeble miraculous fingers. who are not unlike the starting end of day where **** and silent and hulking quiet tremble viscous muscles
of pure unlight, teeming with wondrous gleaming follicles, pimpling the
evenings tummy lapped with luna's rapid fortunate tongue. the chittering
globs of arms waxing ferocious. in climbing steeply valleys feet middle in
strange streams. the common streams. the unerring crooked and corpulent streams. in there, between between, 1and1 (you and i) our ventricles beat
insatiably voluminous leaves. from trees of amorous fruit bearing fronds
slapping silence(whileWeBeneathThemIntoEachOthersMe'sDepositSlushyViteWeWeremore than god's unfound children returning into the cherished cherry red
steaming glue of our very and very clanGlorious howls repeatedly again angain andgain and gain: an earth wholly more to the liking of "which is not unlike us")
1
! I:,.
Apr 19, 2011
Apr 19, 2011 at 11:04 PM UTC
Legion, O the sleeping of your flower is October
many fewer than everyday fewer and many
O slumber, your October is a legion of flowers
hairless kissing bulbs that bend oh just bend
in the grey bluster steeply bend and oh just
O flower, your slumber is the legion October
who marches cruelly through miles of trees
picking of them each their every jounce and bobble
October, O the flower of your sleep is Legion
many always fewer and always fewer many
(grey cruel blustering and through miles of
trees picking bobbles and jouncing marches
hairless kissing bulbs that lean just bending)
Oct 8, 2012
Oct 8, 2012 at 3:38 AM UTC