"stricture" poems
Welcome to my home, oh won't you come in?
Allow me to show you around, would you care for a drink?
Tell me your poison, maybe a highball of gin?
I keep it in the kitchen with the coffeepot by the sink,
or maybe you'd prefer a tumbler of crown?
Whiskey is right in the foyer by the doorstop,
there's nothing like a nip right before I bounce.
And if it's wine you crave, it's in the living room atop
the tube television beside the VCR in it's place.
But if you've a tongue for peach schnapps
then make your way to the crawl space.
Whilst your up there I say, would you do me a fave?
Look in the attic for the bourbon, it's beside my baby pictures,
and bring it down for me. I'm sure that I saved
some from the last time I was up there alone with self-stricture.
Oh you don't care for bourbon, then maybe some brandy?
The cognac is somewhere down the basement,
but ignore the rope and the candies.
You're unsettled you say? Then rum's how to spend
drinking the night away with me in the den.
OH! Just send a beer your way?! you should've just said!
A six-pack's in the bathroom, right next to the head.
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 8:48 PM UTC
With my pen I try to slay the demons
I am determined to chase them from my eden
With the inky darkness I will paint my picture
I will paint them with such stricture
My words will flow
And everyone I'll show
They will no longer be allowed to reside
Hidden deep inside
With the darkness of my ink
I will bring them to the brink
With the black flow, I'll shine the light
On their hideous form, no longer hiding in the night
Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 2:28 PM UTC
MARION! why that pensive brow?
What disgust to life hast thou?
Change that discontented air;
Frowns become not one so fair.
’Tis not Love disturbs thy rest,
Love’s a stranger to thy breast:
He, in dimpling smiles, appears,
Or mourns in sweetly timid tears;
Or bends the languid eyelid down,
But shuns the cold forbidding ‘frown’.
Then resume thy former fire,
Some will love, and all admire!
While that icy aspect chills us,
Nought but cool Indiff’rence thrills us.
Would’st thou wand’ring hearts beguile,
Smile, at least, or seem to smile;
Eyes like thine were never meant
To hide their orbs in dark restraint;
Spite of all thou fain wouldst say,
Still in truant beams they play.
Thy lips—but here my modest Muse
Her impulse chaste must needs refuse:
She blushes, curtsies, frowns,—in short She
Dreads lest the Subject should transport me;
And flying off, in search of Reason,
Brings Prudence back in proper season.
All I shall, therefore, say (whate’er
I think, is neither here nor there,)
Is, that such lips, of looks endearing,
Were form’d for better things than sneering.
Of soothing compliments divested,
Advice at least’s disinterested;
Such is my artless song to thee,
From all the flow of Flatt’ry free;
Counsel like mine is as a brother’s,
My heart is given to some others;
That is to say, unskill’d to cozen,
It shares itself among a dozen.
Marion, adieu! oh, pr’ythee slight not
This warning, though it may delight not;
And, lest my precepts be displeasing,
To those who think remonstrance teazing,
At once I’ll tell thee our opinion,
Concerning Woman’s soft Dominion:
Howe’er we gaze, with admiration,
On eyes of blue or lips carnation;
Howe’er the flowing locks attract us,
Howe’er those beauties may distract us;
Still fickle, we are prone to rove,
These cannot fix our souls to love;
It is not too severe a stricture,
To say they form a pretty picture;
But would’st thou see the secret chain,
Which binds us in your humble train,
To hail you Queens of all Creation,
Know, in a word, ’tis Animation.
1.3k
I found myself creeping along the wallpaper
Jane intensly studying my movements from a rotting wooden bed
only the walls aren't peeling and stained and yellowish
but of the purest ivory instead
I felt as if I could breach some unformed truth
among the mountains and valleys of common architecture
and this would be an untold secret between she and I
as this truth is hidden from minds accompanying stricture
Feb 22, 2011
Feb 22, 2011 at 1:39 PM UTC
The words are uttered, lightly, the thought remains the same
They address all the problems, a redirect of shame
The words are used defensively, they can be from me, or you
They won't deliver answers, only useless things to do
The words express frustration, they do not bend, or break
They will not be revoked, there is no worthy stake
The words are spoken often, at work, and where we pray
"We really cannot change it, it's always been this way"
There is never any recourse, no one, an authored claim
The faithful follow stricture, and will not bear the blame
If the world were oh so simple, if the world was fair, or sane
Then all the uttered truths, would, no character defame
But we dwell within reality, where cursed are those who speak
Of work that needs be done, of plugging the constant leak
Futility is naught, the seeking of wrongs to fight
It's the finding, in the end, it will not to be, made right
Oct 28, 2016
Oct 28, 2016 at 3:12 PM UTC
With my pen I try to slay the demons
I am determined to chase them from my eden
With the inky darkness I will paint my picture
I will paint them with such stricture
My words will flow
And everyone I'll show
They will no longer be allowed to reside
Hidden deep inside
With the darkness of my ink
I will bring them to the brink
With the black flow, I'll shine the light
On their hideous form, no longer hiding in the night
Jan 20, 2016
Jan 20, 2016 at 4:55 PM UTC
a lynch-man
in the Tennessee hills
had run out of hanging thrills
so he decided
to travel
a few hundred miles
crossing the border
into Arkansas
with his new hemp ropes
at the ready
he sized up
the governor's and his spouse's
necks
saying nonchalantly to himself
what the heck
then over the highest branch
he flung the noosing strings
and corralled
the wicked corrupt two
into an inescapable pen
round their napes
he placed
the stricture of the knots
which he'd pulled
very tight
and said farewell
saying to them
hang on
I'll be back later
to see how you're both fairing
on his slow return
Bill and Hillary
were silently gagged
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 7:44 PM UTC
It is in this space
Where thoughts can dance unconstrained
Of the concessions
To jealousy and stricture
Where tangos are passionate
May 19, 2010
May 19, 2010 at 2:43 PM UTC
There's a neglected soul in this picture
Someone who lost control
In a world of stricture
Trapped in seemingly endless stagnation
Yet I've found a figment recently
Of my lost imagination
Like the old woman gazing through a window on the wall
I'm framed
Like the motionless meadow
I'm framed
Lock me up this time now for good
If coloring empty pages is a crime
And freedom is overlooked
Shades and shadows not to confuse
Hence I'm creating a new skyline
Always waiting for a muse
Like the frozen waves at sea on the wall
I'm framed
Like the calm bovine grazing in the pasture
I'm framed
Like a rigid silhouette on the wall
I'm missing it all
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 1:36 PM UTC
I'm trapped in the rhythm of the sonnet
a partnership I chose all by myself
I found the bard's hat and chose to don it
but did not see his shackles on the shelf
of all the paths I've chosen and regretted
I feel this should be easiest to fix
by me this road is only lightly treaded
old mangy dog learning still older tricks
I care no more for forms which close my heart
I'd rather open up and set it free
this stricture doesn't merely stifle art
it's suffocating what's inside of me
even this couplet seems to have a cost
the corset is pulled tight and I am lost
Mar 20, 2018
Mar 20, 2018 at 1:27 PM UTC
I'm striving to be accepted in a world full of hate,
I never would have thought the consequences would be this great;
I didn’t think that in order to fit in, I’d have to change who I am—
That I’d have to conform and become something else for them;
I hate what I’m doing and I don’t know why I do
Maybe it’s because I think you will notice me too
But maybe you never will, maybe it was all a mirage
Because you were too busy hiding behind your entourage
Why do I care so much and let you get into my heart,
When I’ve known that you would hurt me from the start?
So now I’m hurt and I’m having trouble letting go of you
I can truly say that I don’t know what to do.
I think I just need to walk away and take myself out of the picture
I should have done it before when I heard everyone’s stricture.
They told me you were no good, that you would just break my heart;
But I didn’t believe them; I didn’t think we would ever be apart.
Now I see that I was wrong and have been this entire time
I just wish I wouldn’t have fallen this hard and committed this big crime.
Because you see I have committed a crime, I’ve committed one to myself
I let my feelings run away with me, and left my brain on the shelf.
I didn’t pay attention to what my mind was screaming at me
Maybe if I would have, this wouldn’t be how it has to be.
Maybe we could still be friends but I don’t think that’s possible now
So I’m saying goodbye; I’ll get over you somehow.
Apr 17, 2010
Apr 17, 2010 at 7:32 PM UTC
With my pen I try to slay the demons
I am determined to chase them from my eden
With the inky darkness I will paint my picture
I will paint them with such stricture
My words will flow
And everyone I'll show
They will no longer be allowed to reside
Hidden deep inside
With the darkness of my ink
I will bring them to the brink
With the black flow, I'll shine the light
On their hideous form, no longer hiding in the night
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 10:25 AM UTC
I don't use my real picture
as anyone can see
It's not part of my stricture
just not, meant to be
Ponder as you will
keep to what you know
You won't be handing me the bill
I'm not up for the show
So yes, I am as hideous
as can possibly be seen
Totally oblivious
to what you think that means
So don't ask to see
or query for my face
You won't be seeing me
anywhere, or anyplace
Dec 29, 2016
Dec 29, 2016 at 10:27 AM UTC
Time slows when the pen touches the pad.
Eternity gives me a bank of time, something I've never had.
Sand slithering and slipping through my hands.
Staring at the moment trying to get ahead, oh **** there goes my plans.
Part of a bigger picture.
I'll never fall faint to the pressure and the stricture.
Running till my heart stops.
And I reach the top.
But no I don't stop.
Return to the urn that my ashes are in.
Moving from one side to the next begin the end and begin again.
I go in circles. Back tracking everywhere I've been.
Learning and growing.
Owning and knowing.
My mistakes are plenty.
So many.
But I acknowledge the fact.
So I can make the pact.
To stand tall to that very same wall.
That stopped me before.
I'm tearing it down, but there's always more
but that's okay because eternity goes on forever
and this is war.
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 4:13 PM UTC
She slowly walked down the hall,
the bells had long ago tolled
It's the only thought she can hold
She paused at the painting
she had rendered by her hand
crying because she didn't
understand
How every day
he could walk past it
totally ignoring the subject
How his steps along the hall
didn't make him pause and reflect
He never noticed her demise
in each brush stroke
He never contemplated
how she would choke
As each colour was layered
on a pristine white background
Never noticed, how the vein bled
saturating the white with no sound
He never stopped to stare
or try to straighten the picture
She stopped almost habitually
praying silently a stricture
***Don't let me die tonight
while he never gets my Art...
Let the picture speak
a thousand words
While he stares at my broken heart***
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 2:04 AM UTC
Awake;
the morning cacophony of cars sing and
the tread of the many outside our doors
washes through stone walls and into here.
Here;
where we lay and lie and love and the hours
creep by, tiny movements of a hand hastening
the path to our inevitable destruction.
Now;
now as the dawns chorus rises to an inescapable roar
and your arms tighten around my chest; your face
defiantly still buried in the depths of dark hair.
We;
that ****** word, that cage that I cannot outrun,
we move only by staying still; your arms my
sweetest stricture; my breath your way home.
Jan 24, 2016
Jan 24, 2016 at 12:54 PM UTC
You can't control it, that's just the deal
Sometimes you're the mouth, sometimes the meal
Fate does not care how you feel
Converging lines that do not meet
Even though we look and seek
We only find circles that do not close
It's just the way the story goes
We only ever see half a picture
We only see through our eye's stricture
If only our heart had eyes
Maybe then we'd see why
If we call someplace paradise
We condemn it to die
We can kiss it goodbye
So make the best of what you got
Don't get lost in the mayhem of your thoughts
You'll never find exactly what you sought
You must deal with what the fates have brought
Come what may, with your pants down don't get caught
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 11:40 AM UTC
I have to write in my diary,
I have to tell someone what's going on
I have to watch a motion picture
I have to finish tasks for French and Dutch.
Having written, having told, it's gone,
having watched and having finished, priory
fruits in life start growing, how to pass a stricture,
because a girl out there, forever unknowing, simple touch,
is so cryptic, close to crime.
I hate time.
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 10:44 AM UTC
I choose one man hath not marked, a
Prolific being in attire,
A woman of fire and dying spirit,
As me I request!!!
No stricture must I needeth,
Just one that speaketh of ages own wisdom,
A memorandum in finer detail!
Imprisoned in daisies and ale!!!!
A conundrum prize I want to unravel,
As she figures out mine best parts,
Ourn surgeon's to place our hearts,
Side by side in sterile concentration!!!
Nothing disinterested, just mavericks of axiom lax,
Where are bones make maps to lead us to the undiscovered!!!
A father to make a mother,
With child doest I seek!!!
For can I only speak?
For me that is...
Hopeless romantic art thou dead?
To the world's devilish charm,
For you've been tractable Soo far,
Yet nothing's changed!!!
Break mine chains,
Fecund capricious,
I'll accolade thy nitches,
As a seal of promise would I splendor!!!
I do not wanteth one to brook me,
But to shake me to this lowly downed core,
To feel her in every pour,
As erudites we shall shape shift!!!!
Evanescent I've found is reality!!!!
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 1:11 PM UTC
Not to shun an instant,
or institution, but by "foundation"
he meant the beat and the bass
in the basement --
superstructure --
Your instructor, her soup,
Sure and strict,
A stricture.
Come and command.
Jan 7, 2016
Jan 7, 2016 at 9:46 AM UTC
****** Hairs Mystify
****** hairs mystify,
Growing how and where they will,
Which partly sheds light on reason why
They call it, willy-nilly.
White, black, silky, coarse,
All on the selfsame surface –
Growing inward, shooting up and outward!
It’s ridiculous!
At times I curse the space
They call the face.
It shows no logic.
It’s not magic, not strategic,
But some feeble plan of nature,
Some chaotic plan inscrutable
Whose structure is a stricture
On a want of one thing or another.
Keeping tweezer handy
Without ever understanding,
I surrender
To a power
Higher than…
And I give in,
Say a prayer for some unwitting sin
I must be paying for.
Follicles win
Hands down, I mean,
Face down.
****** Hairs Mystify 10.15.2016
Circling Round Nature II; A Sense Of The Ridiculous II; Circling Round Vanities II, Circling Round Woman II;
Arlene Corwin
.
Nov 26, 2016
Nov 26, 2016 at 7:53 AM UTC
You can't control it, that's just the deal
Sometimes you're the mouth, sometimes the meal
Fate does not care how you feel
Converging lines that do not meet
Even though we look and seek
We only find circles that do not close
It's just the way the story goes
We only ever see half a picture
We only see through our eye's stricture
If only our heart had eyes
Maybe then we'd see why
If we call someplace paradise
We condemn it to die
We can kiss it goodbye
So make the best of what you got
Don't get lost in the mayhem of your thoughts
You'll never find exactly what you sought
You must deal with what the fates have brought
Come what may, with your pants down don't get caught
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 10:57 PM UTC
The guidelines that we use
to arrange words from place to place
doesn't use color of skin, ethnicity, or race
Poetry a stricture of tolerance
one that employs, artistry, and grace
either fast, or slow, keeping up poetic pace
The harmony and synchronicity
the power of prose and thought
reaching for enlightenment, within poetry, is caught
Aug 16, 2017
Aug 16, 2017 at 8:07 AM UTC
With my pen I try to slay the demons
I am determined to chase them from my eden
With the inky darkness I will paint my picture
I will paint them with such stricture
My words will flow
And everyone I'll show
They will no longer be allowed to reside
Hidden deep inside
With the darkness of my ink
I will bring them to the brink
With the black flow, I'll shine the light
On their hideous form, no longer hiding in the night
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 1:57 PM UTC