"stoppered" poems
Love is not a symphony
to be played and danced along.
Not a musical soliloquy,
and not even, at times, a song.
My heart is not your violin,
to play whenever the mood is right.
There are no symphonies within me;
This silent soul's voice is stoppered tight.
Words are all I have to offer;
No songs beg release tonight.
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 9:42 PM UTC
With holes in pockets
Can we buy?
Gain truth from
The lips that lie?
Without ever asking
Why?
Is guidance in
A folded map?
Wealth within
Bottle cap?
Does fine champagne
Come on tap?
Does knowledge come
From books fast closed?
Water from a frozen hose?
Motion from a
Locked up gear?
Faith from gurus
Full of fear?
Can oil flow
From stoppered jars?
Travel made in totaled cars?
Peace be won from
World War?
Calculating sums from nil
For naught we pay
Usurious bills
No winning wars where
*ALL are killed
The wind listeth
where it will...*
We beard the lion
In his lair
Close the pane
To breathe the air.
SøułSurvivør
5/23/2017
May 23, 2017
May 23, 2017 at 5:22 AM UTC
This Saint whose Letters bear Prime in Youth
Like that such my Verses appreciate
And Hand by Clock's Divination sprays Truth
Prevent my own Good Deeds depreciate
How Frequent be your Sprinkles for Good Praise
Which by Volumes soon Tampered for Debate
Yet as Pure Models breed Tolerance raise
Urge me in Trust extend your Honour's sate
Father from the Miles; By then your Heart plombs
What other Morsels must my Bowl offer?
Stoppered at that - Tongues inflamed by their Combs
Still Burst your Berries by Love, dear Elder.
It seems by now that First Names make Sense
Though Birth-Year's Stamp your Longevity hence.
Jul 22, 2013
Jul 22, 2013 at 2:21 AM UTC
Little changes are adding up like the
Drip drop of water that pools in the bathroom sink
from a rusty metal tap not quite stoppered.
And I am glad it is opened.
I am glad to look up from the little pool of changes turned large
To flick my eyesight skywards and head on into the mirror that steams up with condensation as I breathe
and I'm me
I breathe, and I know I am alive.
I look in this mirror and just like all the water droplets I see all the changes
And they're in me.
The tap is gushing freely since the day I took control
I took residence in the drivers seat and found the courage to twist the metal between my fingers and let it be how it is to be
And I am healthy
I see lights in my eyes again
I see a shine in my hair
I see new length to it too
I see clothes chosen with flair
I see colour flood my skin and a smile that shows teeth
I see red painted lips and weight off my hips
I see confidence in my stance, upright and straight
I see peace and tranquility less smothered by hate
But most of all, and finally
I see what I have always wanted
I see, and I know that if I am not free
I am soon to be
(I see recovery.)
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 9:38 PM UTC
I see your name and a wave of disdain
Surges and breaks over my countenance.
I sneer and want to spit the foul taste from my mouth,
Though stumbling across you was pure accident.
No ill-intent, no malice on your part, only the hate burning,
That blackest brimstone smoldering away in my heart.
I thought it was put out - thought the fires extinguished.
I thought the pain of you was gone, but obviously I was wrong.
And as I look through my folio of writing, a thought strikes me,
A fancy which I follow, leading back to you.
I arrive, and not to my surprise,
"You would do that", I seethe inside.
You would still read my poetry and 'like' what I write, but then -
As a bitter little quirk of a smile grazes my face -
What does surprise me, is that other than you,
I am now your only favorite in this artistry.
And worse than anything else,
that hurts me.
Seeing this in the face of all that has been placed between us
Leaves me bare and rent, of everything, even my hate,
Which is revealed only as a stopper on this emotional bottle.
Only sorrow, a sadness that has adhered to my core remains when the course is run.
That last little bit that you never want to sip,
Those last drips you leave on the bar with the tip.
Long after I thought I could cry no more,
The tears return unwanted and unbidden,
Showing the true rebellion within my soul,
Telling me that there is still more hurt in store.
And when all I want to do is yell and scream,
To say anything to make you hurt:
To make you hurt the way I did, do,
To make you hurt how I do for you,
For you to hurt as I crush you heart as you did mine,
For you to need me as I wanted you,
And for me to give it all up, to turn from Love and walk away.
But it can never happen that way, you could never let that happen,
You could never be vulnerable the way I gave myself in trust and faith,
And in the end, that hate is not within me, I do not carry that cruelty.
I am too forgiving a person, but I will not forget.
So I live on, burdened with my pain behind these eyes, stoppered by a thin hate -
My only defense against you in my life.
Mar 1, 2011
Mar 1, 2011 at 1:13 AM UTC
reminded of my hurt youth
that never did quell
reprimand the cowardly self
should have sought
correction from the harm
that stoppered me
but i was too embarrassed
to be met in therapy
Jul 10, 2022
Jul 10, 2022 at 10:04 PM UTC
The lady in violet waits
by Arab candle light for the sounding
of twenty-one silver bells.
Seven white divisions led
by four black stars.
Her stories feed the drowsy
like a stoppered angel
in the axe-man's hands.
Mar 1, 2010
Mar 1, 2010 at 6:03 PM UTC
there have always been words
stoppered up against my
lips that would ruin us
i'm so afraid to say
-that i would take a
breath- ruin us
with a song
Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 12:33 PM UTC
You're a floated Liver of sins, my friend
When you disrobe in-front of the mirror-unmarred
You find yourself bloated and ill hued
The excess soil in your cuss
has stoppered
What you’ve amassed in free wanting
has driven you into a clot
Your consumption has padded you to reach a total
and all you can do is amount upon the scale of mammal judgement
and feast upon your grave
Look to your pillow and it’s embroideries !
Can you make out the words ?
‘A pleasured out beast of glut and ego
Unwealthy and devoid’
Mar 28, 2019
Mar 28, 2019 at 11:04 PM UTC
Oh Higher Power please!
-Please tell me what I need to know.
Why does my love for him not grow?
Is it stoppered with a blackened promise?
A hateful word, an unfaithful kiss?
Is there something to which I am amiss?
I do not wish to linger here,
drowning in what seems unclear
while suspicion does provoke a tear.
Oh, tell me what I need to hear...
I shall take whatever you care to tell
in the hope that my tears such knowledge will quell,
for not knowing shall inevitably drive me to my hell
Oh Higher Power please...
~Please tell~
Apr 3, 2012
Apr 3, 2012 at 1:33 PM UTC
He cracked open my sternum
feasted eyes on muscular beats
punctured both set of heaving lungs
ruined the cleanest of my sheets.
Claimed alcohol confused corneas
that tiredness muffled defiant ears
that blood didn't register, that pain disappeared
that I did not say that word, that he did not hear.
He stoppered each tear which congealed
such angry belligerence, hey, we made a deal.
This was one mistake and one ruined so willingly,
those scratches were passion, why don't you see?
you should have been clearer, yes really, I was the flaw
you should have fought harder, barricaded that door,
douse yourself in fire and go clean up this mess
it's time like these I begin to love you even less.
He cracked open this sternum
smuggled in gifts unadorned,
and these days I wish I had murdered him
instead of the aftermath, unborn.
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 3:33 PM UTC
The stars are dead, but they still shine
The light of their passage echoes in my eyes
For I am also wandering, a fading soul;
The sun burns too bright for my pale smile
The moon's turning seems far more worthwhile
As I hide from the bone-drenching cold
Autumn has fallen on the august land;
Summer lies slain by its clumsy, heavy hand
And her flowers wilt under the rain,
Lukewarm I sit, I breathe the musky air
Skin prickling I say it isn't quite fair
That over this land winter will resume its reign
Hollow-hearted I contemplate just how
I can live and breathe in the pain of now:
When darkness rules, not only inside
How can I be the summer girl they all expect
How can I live in awe of what comes next
If I am held by night with mid afternoon blind
They wish to see some monumental change
But I’ve been living stoppered in the same
Feelings, seasons, for all my years
I never truly felt summer in her fleeting kiss
I sleep like the dead; I must have missed
The heat and woken up to lady winter’s tears
So I remain as cold as the wind penetrating
Our respites, because I grew up hating
The way the ice keeps me trapped indoors
I didn’t realise it had crept into my heart
Until I woke up, and tried to start
Sitting in the sun and warming to something pure
My chances were fleeting, and one by one
I missed them as I anticipated the sun
This watery thing unsatisfactory, wanting better
I failed to appreciate what life had to give
Suspended animation is no way to live
And I think I’ll be waiting forever.
© Tara India
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 11:32 AM UTC
It has come to this -
I am dead
In my busyness
Droning about
A wasp in a stoppered jar.
Once I loved words
Midges on my tongue
I spat them into shapes
Over paper
Too busy chasing jam now
To write much.
And you
I think if I had you
I wouldn't have to run
From my loneliness.
Feb 5, 2017
Feb 5, 2017 at 12:43 AM UTC
The scenes of this Halloween.
Smashed glass, broken windows,
Punched holes in the ceilings.
What an antic, frantic shouting,
Some fellow in the corner arguing semantics.
But the last thing I expected that night to be was romantic.
She had auburn hair, this deep rich shade.
I almost stared. If it weren't for *** and coke
I'd have left it there.
But it'd been too long, my love life felt like
That of a crushingly hopeless song.
So I grew some ***** mustered the courage
To take that twenty foot walk. Once there
All I had to do was talk.
How quickly I fell. Was it her voice?
Her eyes?
The face she pulled when she laughed?
We fit like a dovetail joint, two peas in a pod.
It was as easy as this you pessimistic sod.
The whole night we spent,
Climbed on a shed, remarked at the couples
Claiming a bed.
The fury of the night didn't relent,
But her company kept me miles away
In an imaginary story of future smiles,
No more trials. Not for some time.
The problem is once the party did end,
I hadn't seen her since then.
Friends suggested I send her a message,
But sobriety stoppered perfect curiosity.
I couldn't want someone, having seen them
For half a quarter a day.
Still the horizon of delight taunted my night.
I might. All I had was the white light on my
Screen and the limits of my fascination.
Hypothetical interest became my
Preoccupation.
When I'd begun to let go of her absence
A friend told me he'd heard she'd liked me.
Nonsense, too good to be true. **** like that
Doesn't happen to a hope so new.
Heart stutters, skin flutters, stomach shutters,
These symptoms of giddy, felt silly.
I messaged her that day,
Three hours of conversation couldn't have been greater.
This stranger in my thoughts rendered other
Ones naught. I sought her out, easiest thing I've done.
Having tasted some, I wouldn't stop until she became the one.
The floodgates were opened and washed me away.
A simple "hey" goes a long way
To brighten up my once-grey days.
Dec 16, 2018
Dec 16, 2018 at 6:08 PM UTC