"stillest" poems
The uncomfortable smile
that you wear on your face
Your self confessed klutzness
and perceived lack of grace
The things that you say
and the things that you do
are just some of the things
I like about you
Like the stillest of waters
you run so deep
and the words that you share
are the treasures I'll keep
You're honest and modest
and fragile yet strong
and yet so uncertain
of where you belong
Let go of your past
leave your baggage behind
and trust in your heart
and just see what you find
You may be surprised
at how good things can be
If you let yourself go
let yourself become free
Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 5:16 PM UTC
And you left me like a baby flower choking
On dust, and loss of future blooming,
And tremors like Eos's tears
On the stillest vernal pool -
It was as if you stole my life and simply
Went - or put me on my little sailboat
That sang of youth and an hourglass, a
Duet composed in the ***** crystal of purgatory,
Between my insatiably wild stronghold and
The rosy maiden, blushing, full, yet
Dumb, willingly deaf to red flags,
Praying for a partner to make a golden
Lady of the wood and water
And light, so warm and shimmering under
The forest's pine-down cover - what a
Big, hasty mistake, to keep yourself
Hollow and blind to the day's good things, to remain a
Man alone, wistfully misplacing a love
Who showed the loyalty of a crimson kindness, and who
Was always singing bliss and beauty and glowing into your ears,
So stuffed with lies, bitterness, ideals, and
Full like drunken leeches - all this, and the coldness, the stubbornness
Of the oldest mule, to stay isolated from my
Loving eyes, to make time with our sorrowful
Echoes, yours and mine.
*vertical quote from Kurt Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse-Five
Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 10:26 AM UTC
Paint me on a canvas of the most brilliant white.
Make my body of the most magnificent colors.
Paint me with the best of brushes,
the finest of paints.
Make me worth something more,
than your average human.
Stroke my face with the stillest hands.
Create my appearance and complexion with the most delicate of details.
Make my body the utmost of accurate,
please no enhancements.
Make me love myself,
make my body worth loving,
highlighting it with the most beautiful colors and shades.
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 8:43 PM UTC
i lick the rain from my lips
and kiss the moon goodnight in hopes of tasting the stars that you dream under
when you're lucky enough to sleep beneath a clear sky
and for your sake
i hope the clouds will always part for you come nightfall
and i wish the sun to dance across the apples of your cheeks as you smile
as sunbeams dot your face with pigmented music notes
and constellations waiting to be named
i hope you're smiling now
and day-dreaming
of rugged landscapes fading to rust as the thunder whispers the blues through the stillest night
i hope you smile when you think of me
seated around a cluttered table with extension cord lighting and a cheap beer
or rambling down a dirt road
or a metra track
don't forget that i'm magic
and that you are too
i hope that your favorite flowers bloom in fragrant plumes wafting high enough to cross the heavily guarded walls you've resurrected
i hope you won't spend a single second scared
or lonely
out there in the "great wide open"
but mostly i hope you'll never forget the road back west
to the desert dust i flourish in
Nov 19, 2012
Nov 19, 2012 at 3:24 PM UTC
Staid solitude and silence lend me ease
from mind’s congestion, tongue’s propensive burl
toward chatter’s looping, irritating whirl—
exchanging dervish dust for bonny breeze.
My soul may sing and soar from quiet’s nest
or sit in stillest calm without weight’s care
within the waiting, because God is there
who knows me, hears me, grants me sweeping rest.
The Everlasting God, the LORD o’er all
who understands me, loves me with no end—
most faithful, fervent Confidante and Friend—
pervades the sweet quiescence with His call,
“Here in My peace, come find your heart’s desire.
Serene in Me, soul catches My love’s fire.”
May 23, 2022
May 23, 2022 at 10:34 AM UTC
In pigeon light
this damp day
settles itself
into lamp-room grey.
The trees intone
farewell farewell:
An autumnal valedictory
to reluctant leaves.
Yet a few remain
bold coloured
*Porphry Pink
Fox Red
Fowler
Sudbury Yellow*
hanging by a thread
they turn in the stillest air.
Then fall
Then fall
Nov 22, 2012
Nov 22, 2012 at 2:07 AM UTC
Hear, Father, hear thy faint afflicted flock
Cry to thee, from the desert and the rock;
While those, who seek to slay thy children, hold
Blasphemous worship under roofs of gold;
And the broad goodly lands, with pleasant airs
That nurse the grape and wave the grain, are theirs.
Yet better were this mountain wilderness,
And this wild life of danger and distress--
Watchings by night and perilous flight by day,
And meetings in the depths of earth to pray,
Better, far better, than to kneel with them,
And pay the impious rite thy laws condemn.
Thou, Lord, dost hold the thunder; the firm land
Tosses in billows when it feels thy hand;
Thou dashest nation against nation, then
Stillest the angry world to peace again.
Oh, touch their stony hearts who hunt thy sons--
The murderers of our wives and little ones.
Yet, mighty God, yet shall thy frown look forth
Unveiled, and terribly shall shake the earth.
Then the foul power of priestly sin and all
Its long-upheld idolatries shall fall.
Thou shalt raise up the trampled and oppressed,
And thy delivered saints shall dwell in rest.
1.2k
Morning coffee on a Sunday when
We don't go to church. We never do.
We will paint a still life of the stillest life
When time cannot be kept; it can only be seen.
And the dust will gather, as dust it ought to do.
It will cover us, monochromatic,
But skin is dust too. And so we wait and wait
And bombs will drop and Earth will shake but we
Will not be taken as we sit on the end of the world
Together, morning coffee in hand as the sunlight
Bounces off your skin in the most perfect way.
Nothing exists outside of us, or if it does
We will not open our eyes to it. Dust will settle,
And we will settle that we will be dust together someday.
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 3:48 PM UTC
You are a solider,
The war of my life is at a cease,
Its the stillest moment I've ever lived,
Because you are my solider,
You are a protector,
The wreck of others is trashed,
You know the right words to say,
Fixed my heart when it's mashed,
For that I adore you,
Aegis,
You absorb the bad,
Dispense the good,
You are knocked down,
You get back up and walk,
You are hurt,
You are pain,
You are love,
You are joy,
You're my Aegis,
Many try to mock,
Many try to ruin,
Many tried to fix,
Aegis
God walks in your walk,
God shines in your smile,
God moves in your spirit,
God talks through your voice,
Aegis,
If you want to see the beauty,
I'd advise you to look closer,
It's not what you think it is,
It's what I see, I'm a boaster,
I am proud,
I have pride,
I have the greatest mother Alive,
And I just want the world to know you're beautiful,
Go ahead,
Seek and you shall find,
It's not in the weight,
Or the size of your behind,
You'll find it in the bathroom,
On an item that reflects,
My Aegis look in the mirror,
And tell me what you see,
When you see yourself,
Smile and let your light gleam !
Jun 5, 2016
Jun 5, 2016 at 12:58 PM UTC
1065
Let down the Bars, Oh Death—
The tired Flocks come in
Whose bleating ceases to repeat
Whose wandering is done—
Thine is the stillest night
Thine the securest Fold
Too near Thou art for seeking Thee
Too tender, to be told.
1.1k
You lit my insides on fire
voiced the words sunken deep in my linear
spoken against,
the stillest water
I could of sworn I saw it move.
your eyes blushing as
you
articulate her thigh
I saw it in you,
your shy endorsement
for the same
***
curious movements
from gentle hands
lip gnawed and panicked
I ran my hand through boyish hair
and god I am such a cliche
why won’t you come and say
hello
Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 5:39 AM UTC
Cold, black and oil-like,
The monster flows quick and all-consuming
Between steep jaw-like banks,
In the dying light
Of the shortest days.
Edges were bordered soon
With slowly-gathered cut-crystal shapes
Like collected puzzle pieces
Sharp as razors, and finely decorated,
Like discarded dragonfly wings.
Soon myriad tiny folded-tissue flowers
Floated down in the stillest, icy air
And all signs of the malevolent depths and currents
Were hidden under a cotton duvet.
With the rising winds now
Great granular dunes
Tumble and sift across that place.
And the whistles and howls drown out
The tiny gurgling calls,
That are all the monster can muster
From beneath its white sarcophagus.
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 5:55 PM UTC
A sheer pink lip balm
A harsh light bulb-lit reflection
Deep, tired, dark circles
That outermost omnipresent aloofness
Dark 00's and midriff
The cold, 6:00 am, hollow and dim living room
Seriously demeaning and only aware introspectively
Noble-felt, harshly observed silence
First, the summit most deeply craved and sensually submissive to
Clarity and optimism
Motivation and kindness
But impending soon after
A permanent loneliness, soullessness, sadness and a vast emptiness
The every day conscience
Hours spent absorbing the stillest silence possible
Not being able to think full thoughts or talk to oneself
All that's distinguished is feeling paralyzed in the mind
Harsh bathroom lights
Loud, rough water filling the bathtub
Staring as the repetitive breathing moves the water line back then forth
Up then down
Slow moving and eerily melancholy
Continues
2 am... 3 am... 4 am...
Physically exhausted and still
Lethargic bones
Mentally continuous, even rapid, and imaginative
Consisting of only slightly heavy, controlled breaths and an idled pause
Everything is paused except the mind
The body goes without
Naturally retracting from the mind
Counting the minutes until the alarm goes off
Arises to feel disoriented
Resolves with more
A light-dark shimmer and brown boots
Perfectly placed lips
A sharp nose and a sunken aura
That craving, comfortable normal attained
It all resurfaces
The smell of that time
The mentally formed associations
Cold like the winter, early mornings and the fluorescent light
Cigarettes like the emptiness, somber, bitterness and silence
Oppressive but so liberating
Depressive but so enthralling
It smells malignity pleasure-filled
A sheer pink lip balm
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 3:58 AM UTC
You held me in the darkness.
We talked away the pain.
I sang the tune without the words,
And filled the sky with rain.
We danced among our manic storm,
Connected at the soul.
Shaking our heads to static thought
From men with hearts of coal.
Even in the stillest days,
An earthquake rests inside.
A rumbling, crumbling, mumbling mess
I thought I'd never hide.
And now I know I never will;
You've shown me the light.
No beauty from the brightest day
Can compare to the dark of night.
Thank you for existing,
For choosing just to be.
Since I'll be infinitely listing:
Thanks for loving me.
Jan 26, 2017
Jan 26, 2017 at 7:44 PM UTC
I am the stillest kind of chaos
I am the fullest kind of empty
I am
I am 4am 911 calls
I am soft poetry bouncing off peeling walls
I am I am
I am taut skin stretched over overworked knuckles
I am a kaleidoscope of tasteless adjectives scattered
over the ashes of your past lovers
I am I am I am
I am a mess,
a jumbled figure of a person
you've long forgotten
I am not myself
I am I am I am...I am not
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 12:50 PM UTC
I noticed recently that when the world wants to spin me off into orbit my default is digging in and going to my core.
Auto, defiant and laser fixed.
A small place that I call stiller.
Like a
******
My heart forgets
To beat. Stone blind.
Still,stiller,stillest.
Stiller still as I prep for the ****
Assassination of fears icewater like blood.
Refusal of all negative flow.
Survive.
Survive.
Survive.
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 11:08 PM UTC
6 lights have suggested
A birdcall as my will
To dig a tunnel under the stillest night
To echo the autumn, read the book and surrender
I guess the reason has overflown
6 lights show me the naked myths as linear as the thread of the town
I could not question that I wish to be held down before laughing in the rain
Press my love/ a huff for courage/ cleansed up in the trees /I drown until the sense is blurry
6 lights haven’t told the seventh a word
It has left its cordless phone in the room with the view too rough for memory
I can still see the doctor leaping from the bleachers
And the light has found a place to gleam maybe in that idea
Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 6:48 AM UTC
It is in these nights
these stillest of nights
where the semi-arid air surrounds
the baking heat
that was the day
has for some time
given way
subtle aromas
fill all senses
combining sage
with that of gentle dirt
overlooking
the lights of cities
which strive to mirror
the stars inert
sit and ponder
all life's questions
for it is in these nights
these stillest of nights
that those grand answers might be found
Jul 18, 2011
Jul 18, 2011 at 1:21 PM UTC
All the time I keep asking myself
“Is she worth all this suffering for?”
I stare at your picture—
Smiling through those deepest eyes of yours
—and after crying until the ocean in my heart is dry,
I somehow manage to convince myself that
“Maybe not… There will be others like her
I should stop weeping and be happy.”
And all goes well for a while.
But darling I have learned
Through years of this charade
That it is as futile as throwing stones into the sky
To taste the air for a little while,
For they will fall back to the ground
As inevitably as my thoughts fall back to you.
In moments sublime, with the crash and play
Of picturesque peace and beauty,
Through association, I see you,
And I wish you were beside me.
In the deepest of my thoughts,
In the stillest of my dreams,
You are my archetype of Love,
And of everything that is desired in life.
And I rationally fear
That a mere lifetime’s width of painful edges
Cannot cut this emotion
That runs deeper than my heart is capable of.
And of all the universes out there,
Why am I in one where you don’t love me?
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 9:32 PM UTC
I come home to the darkest it’s ever been.
Every light choked off; there’s a cinch somewhere in the hose.
It’s the stillest it’s ever been here, for ten years.
The last time it was this still the trees grew a different way:
not all twisted, sideways and flat
not planks and sheets.
They grew straight up and down,
but with branches going left to right,
but with leaves swallowing sunlight.
They were spindly, fat, twiggy and thick.
not stapled, smashed, ground or shaped
not nailed, glued, pressed into place.
I come home to the quietest it’s ever been.
Every sound gagged; the fan’s gummed up.
It’s the most silence this place has heard for ten years.
The last time it was this quiet Forest ruled the place.
The ground below will never grow
green or brown extensions of carbon earth
-not since the concrete took up hearth
-not since ten years ago.
Oct 14, 2010
Oct 14, 2010 at 3:09 PM UTC
~for Steve and Marshall~
“*And the drowsy old world’s growing gloomy and gray,
While the joys that are sweetest are passing away;
And the charms that inspire like the picture of dawn
Are but playthings of Time—they gleam and are gone,
While the drowsy world dreams on.*”
"The Drowsy World Dreams On" by Walter Everette Hawkins
<|>
my personal time ladder, nearer to the top step,
hungrily devour the photographs of time’s daily sweets,
every natural picture evokes gasping, wonderful wonder,
acutely aware and wary that this confirms my duality,
rejecting and welcoming the nearer end of my personal poem
the poems of many-a-day stored securely in the ever expanding
internet, for memory is the most untrustworthy partner, and who? will retrieve, reinspect them, clapping to their bright shining, who in teary wake, be commanded by my no more heart beat-throbbing, an irony unflattering, as my disposition ranking first among the
forever stillest
some few gleam and gone; in the wee hours, when I enter
the confessional, both priest and penitent, my sins gleam
for but a moment and the priest sadly informs, there is no prayer or poem that will forgive your multitude of poor paths taken, of love ungiven, craven cowardice of safety’s paths taken when choice was offered
these poems are merely
the residue of a life poorly lived,
poorly given, seeking no mercy,
for if I cannot forgive myself,
why should you?
10-18-21
11:39AM
Oct 18, 2021
Oct 18, 2021 at 11:29 PM UTC
In the stillest moment of the night,
When nothing more than the soft glow
of your cell phone falls across
the gray of your beard and the wrinkles on your face
I remember those nights
I wanted to crawl inside
your burning skin and harbor there
hidden from the world
deep inside you; cradled around my
ache and longing
holding my desire
for you,
as long as I can.
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 4:43 PM UTC
up & away floats my red balloon heart
lifted
lightened & (when) you kiss me feverish, the spring flowers
crushed beneath (our) bare feet & i think this must be the price
to the universe paid for love so sweet & so unrelenting, darling, you are
the stillest of seas after storms have swept past, the softest
lips i have ever touched my body
your body & be gentle with me:
in your arms is some kind of otherworld, the dis joint ed
passing of time
bothtooquick and f a r t o o s l o w but i am left always quite wanting
more & we become galaxies
when the lights go out, starlit & desperate for expansion
from the confines of our selves so, o love of mine, let us
mudddy the space between you & i
with uncharted exploration. a poetry of flesh on
flesh & i will lay you down tonight.
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 8:37 PM UTC
Your nooks of shade, your paths half-seen,
Places secret in between
Whose border wears its coat of green
To see
Where God’s light flickers on the scene:
I can have my stillest being
So free.
By day, my little patch of light,
My patch of dark at night,
Honeysuckles, roses quiet,
Bright Sun,
At eve will scent the darkness quite
In one.
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 2:57 PM UTC