"stuns" poems
315
He fumbles at your Soul
As Players at the Keys
Before they drop full Music on—
He stuns you by degrees—
Prepares your brittle Nature
For the Ethereal Blow
By fainter Hammers—further heard—
Then nearer—Then so slow
Your Breath has time to straighten—
Your Brain—to bubble Cool—
Deals—One—imperial—Thunderbolt—
That scalps your naked Soul—
When Winds take Forests in the Paws—
The Universe—is still—
10.6k
Even if I get hate messages saying imma dumb geek,
My favorite thing to do in Rainbow 6 is spawn peek.
I choose not to reinforce any freakin' walls,
Cause I'm the best on my team and pre-fire the halls.
They call me sweaty boi cause all I play is Ela,
But hey man I got news for ya--you're a noob lil' fella.
If ya boi be attackin', ya know I be using ash,
No one can hit me when I use that 3 speed dash.
I breach the wall and throw some stuns,
I run on in and fire my guns.
At the end of every round I end up with an ace,
My stats have basically broke the R6 database.
So yeah you can just call me wuhbzz, or just god for short,
Cause I'm the best you'll ever see, T don't need any retorts B)
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 8:42 AM UTC
Oh yes, what are those words again?
how do they start, how and when?
sticks and stones may break my bones
but words will never hurt me
every part of my broken heart
realise the lies of that famous part
invisible fists from the verbal toil
now sit like cysts in my mental soil
a physical scar reminds me the past was real
but thanks to those fists, happiness feels surreal
a mouth from afar, a single breath
can start that silent, you know, death
the blackhole so numb
from a word so dumb
yet so strong to break my bones
and hurt so long in my fine ear drums
as the throw of blunt stones
on my skin that burns and stuns.
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 11:08 AM UTC
<>
**”To dream by the oak and awake by the sea
when August has ripened and turned Jubilee
you must enter dominion of summer's delight
and live in the rapture of candescent light
Oh to live and to love one must first learn to kiss,
the kinetics of summer, with eternal bliss.”**
~from vienna bombardieri’s poem, “Kinetics Of Summer~
(with her kind permission)
<>
First verse pinpoints accurate, this,
my spot!
by oak and sea,
my precise longitude and latitude, where my summertime
eyes open to receive the gift of morning’s light, observing
the conjunction of land, hard by the sea, the land-ed avian gentry
and sea~sailor birds interacting, sharing the uprising currents,
for sport and observation, travel and pleasured sailing,
these “Masters of the Sky can fly for hours (or days), while barely flapping,” and this verse stuns, and
my shock,
at these, her words
my breathing is gasped and grasped
by oak and sea, for so it be,
this is where
my morning’s operatic scrum, ballet and dance hall hullabaloo,
my diurnal natural choreography is performed,
while slow sipping my very heated first coffee
it was here
that I learned to love more easily,
for the kinetics of summers trio of sun, sky, and moderate breezes,
lulled the turbulence of my disheartened lives into an easier
order, the world~surround, a living, breathing exercise that
warmed the spirit, cooled the soul, and spoke without uttering
a single word,
here dear person, is the where and the when,
the comfort of the natural-blanket
that enwraps, covers, cherishes the atmosphere entire,
containing the healing elixirs and protective ointments,
that remove the
plaque of life’s accumulated injuries, slights and scar tissue
simply put,
here I breath freely,
here I see with clarity
here the infusions of
living in nature, prolongs,
restore, remind, enliven
and enhances,
the intermixture of
body and soul
here in actual deed,
the kiss of summer bliss
upon
my tiring cell’s walls,
are resurrected even unto the nuclei,
by the warm breath of sun life and sun light,
and the breezes of salty sweet caramel air
and under their loving, combined-dominion
am I
resurrected and will yet sense,
one more Jubilee again
as I lay dreaming
by the oak and the sea…
Aug 2, 2023
Aug 2, 2023 at 4:05 AM UTC
I've been aware
for many a year,
but cut off by him,
for crimes he accuses
for crimes undisclosed,
his silence is wider than
the great oceans,
with no means of passage.
till one day a word,
his brother uses a word
that makes no pretense,
that shocks, stuns, and
force!admits me to a reality,
I, knew but couldn't admit
schizophrenic.
here I am sundered speechless;
as a new form of sadness now
internally prevails, and I am
even more quiet than usual,
contemplative, they call it,
but
I recognize sad/mad in every one
of its manifold disguises, and wonder
just how much, own ingenious genes,
the paucityof my impoverished down~
bringing brought, bought, caught,
contributed to this loss, this onus,
this cross that has no answer to the
***only question that matters,
how much,
am I the guilty party
the disaster father***
Aug 22, 2025
Aug 22, 2025 at 4:11 PM UTC
No one is perfect
Or expected to be
Unless you happen to share a gene or two with this sort
And as if their generation was completely right
(the pattern of perceived perfection is a long lineage)
They pass their judgment
One generation to the next
The gossip makes its way across state lines
The tale of manipulation and corruption
Bred within our borders
Finds its place with mythical tales
Of mobsters and cat burglars
On cops
You work your magic
Sweet-talking people out of money
Not even Satan’s speech was so smooth
Talent for memorizing numbers
Credit card
Pin
But not your grandmother’s
Stuns all
If she knew of your antics
Pallbearers would have a heavy load
But fear not
Keeping secrets from the old and feeble
Is our talent
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 1:30 PM UTC
There is nothing wrong with being attracted to beauty
it is a beautiful thing
magnetics and irony
amethyst and memories
black fist of power
proud ovaries breathe melanin magic
hearts of silk spun
resilience is narcissistic too
you know
revolution can declare martial law too
maybe it already did
you would not know yet
the coal used to be us
now we are diamonds
stolen from the earth because of our sheen
our glimmer stuns the most magnificent darkness
a teal sunset sparks the imagination
hallucinating smoking quartz
Jul 31, 2016
Jul 31, 2016 at 1:47 PM UTC
My grandfather passed away on a dewy September morning;
About 17 years ago;
My grandmothers glass eyes still draw a picture of fright in front of me;
I remember as she sat silently for hours;
Cold , vulnerable;
As if she was robbed of her breath;
Since then she has sliced her life into two parts;
Before baba, after baba.
Yesterday as we sorted her cupboard;
Over hot chai;
I asked her about a saree;
" I think it was before baba" she says , like an unconditioned reflex , an involuntary knee ****
They don't teach you how to love like that anymore;
Love like this swallows dictionaries and renders meanings, meaningless;
It moves mountains and drowns rivers;
It spoons the hatred and vaults it.
My grandmother never went to school;
Even at 24 today, whenever I see her;
She presses a 500Rs note into my fist and asks me to buy something sweet for myself;
Last time she did that, she told me he taught her how to count money after they were married;
And to say words like "curd" and "rice";
Every year on his death anniversary;
She still cooks food for people;
With a metal rod holding the bones in her thighs;
And pressing the bleeding points of her psoriatic palms;
She keeps adding cards to her monument;
And remembers love;
Everyday;
In hushed muted tones;
In lemon pickles and measures of salt;
And in a way that stuns me the most;
Without even realising.
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 2:46 PM UTC
It's Sunday evening, it's time to play
I go approach her, I ask her to stay
She gives me a smile so we go have some fun
I leave on Monday morning before the sun
I work all day without my thoughts drifting away I don't even remember that chicks name who I had asked to stay
But the moment I got back from work...
It's Monday evening with a troubled heart
Yeah Monday evening with a trifled heart
Poor old Monday evening with a troubled heart
I can't bear the thought of us apart
She was so much better than the last ones
She's awesome and she always stuns
She had the qualities that no one else had
She was good in some ways and in some ways bad
I can't seem to remember that name
No means to communicate with that beautiful dame
I crave for love because I'm so alone
I have no one to call when I pick up my phone
This affection gives me motivation to stay alive
I have the most fabulous of cars but no one to take on a drive
Money isn't everything, it can't buy you happiness
Instead of keeping you better off it leaves you in a mess
For you get so addicted to money you forget everyone else
To a point that no one visits you anymore and you're as useless as the house bells
Loved one are the greatest wealth
They keep you happy and in good help
But I've lost them all so point in brooding
Oh, I'm such a fool to have fallen in love again
Love is for the weak
But I fall in love every week
Be it Katherine or Alex or even Susan
For these girls help me to loosen
That burden that's over me
From which I can never flee...
And it's Sunday evening again and it's time to play
I go approach her and ask her to stay
She's definitely better than the last one
She smiles so we go have some fun
And it's Monday evening with a troubled heart, again....
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 10:02 AM UTC
is it love
or the parasite ?
my pilot bulk
aims for relief
it pursues this via
your romantic correction
in public arena
a library stair
(i never prior encountered you)
one step as foreigner
the approach
and upon a swift internal pendulum
i make witless incisions
hurried mended sentences
directed stuns
invasive
i demand the compromise
of your company
hastily push at boundaries and
you're not so accommodating
but
on a further occasion
same building
we exchange a battering of conversation
that
then
matures
into barter-like use of language
despite my harassments
a civil cultivation is unearthed
tongue within this intelligence effort i lessen
loosen my demanding appearance
disregard my dignity
a skin suit about the ankles
you're open in a vein of similarity
you flesh out your own controls
we've progressed quickly
there's an aped conduct
and flashing attitudes
this time we share table space
a nearby café
we have become quite unmanned
repeated meet ups
upon humours we adjust small habits
and shake on perceptions where we overlap
it becomes
more an overlay of rationalities
than resented promises
fast time passes and
i move into your living space
i pick a wildflower
and put it in the tiny vase on your dining table
we agree on its colour
we agree on a book to make our bible material
we agree on the pitch of the tinnitus we share
the clothes i am to wear
i switch to your diet
and you cease taking medications
we sleep on your lawn like children
and bring down the night sky for comfort
during the day we wear our sleep
like a lubrication for our chores
and go about our productivity
in genuine partnership
yet
i feel we're just out of reach
of some dark harm
we are an excellent sample pair
it is all vital
we grow stronger the more we quiz it
recycling our **********
refine our agreements
await further impulses
and come closer to plug
so..
do we please love
or simply indulge a parasite ?
Nov 23, 2021
Nov 23, 2021 at 10:28 PM UTC
I
Happy are men who yet before they are killed
Can let their veins run cold.
Whom no compassion fleers
Or makes their feet
Sore on the alleys cobbled with their brothers.
The front line withers.
But they are troops who fade, not flowers,
For poets' tearful fooling:
Men, gaps for filling:
Losses, who might have fought
Longer; but no one bothers.
II
And some cease feeling
Even themselves or for themselves.
Dullness best solves
The tease and doubt of shelling,
And Chance's strange arithmetic
Comes simpler than the reckoning of their shilling.
They keep no check on armies' decimation.
III
Happy are these who lose imagination:
They have enough to carry with ammunition.
Their spirit drags no pack.
Their old wounds, save with cold, can not more ache.
Having seen all things red,
Their eyes are rid
Of the hurt of the colour of blood for ever.
And terror's first constriction over,
Their hearts remain small-drawn.
Their senses in some scorching cautery of battle
Now long since ironed,
Can laugh among the dying, unconcerned.
IV
Happy the soldier home, with not a notion
How somewhere, every dawn, some men attack,
And many sighs are drained.
Happy the lad whose mind was never trained:
His days are worth forgetting more than not.
He sings along the march
Which we march taciturn, because of dusk,
The long, forlorn, relentless trend
From larger day to huger night.
V
We wise, who with a thought besmirch
Blood over all our soul,
How should we see our task
But through his blunt and lashless eyes?
Alive, he is not vital overmuch;
Dying, not mortal overmuch;
Nor sad, nor proud,
Nor curious at all.
He cannot tell
Old men's placidity from his.
VI
But cursed are dullards whom no cannon stuns,
That they should be as stones.
Wretched are they, and mean
With paucity that never was simplicity.
By choice they made themselves immune
To pity and whatever mourns in man
Before the last sea and the hapless stars;
Whatever mourns when many leave these shores;
Whatever shares
The eternal reciprocity of tears
2.8k
Forsythias flower now,
A shock of yellow petals
Matching my Daffodils.
Pure yellow,
Brighter than the sun.
Galaxies of petal-stars
Hanging from spiral arms.
As numerous as a shoal of fish,
Or flock of birds.
Nature stuns us with its numbers.
Winter hangs on
With chilling grip.
But blossoms like these hold promise
Of warmer days.
My crocuses were first:
Defiant spears thrusting into the frosty air.
And now the second wave is here:
Flower after flower,
Bird after bird:
Robins and Blue ****
Blackbirds and Sparrows.
Pesky gnats are out
As everything awakes
From hibernation.
Yes Spring is here,
Showing us once more
The sheer resilience of Life.
Paul Butters
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 3:11 PM UTC
Don’t ever trust her!
She’s using you.
And when she’s done-
All you’ll have is bite marks and pain.
She’s a cobra on the inside.
She keeps her friends too close.
If they ever find out what she really is,
She figures it out and pounces at them.
Bite mark after bite mark.
Venom stuns the bodies of victims past.
Some say she mimics the emotions of others;
To find out how to bring them in.
But never fall for this.
For you will be just another meal.
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 10:36 PM UTC
scratchy and damp do not harmonize underfoot
and fear and the ocean should not coexist
but like this elevator missing the thirteenth button, my comfort sinks with tantalizing, lethargic anxiety.
the boards are a smokeless fire underfoot,
grit rolling between me and chipped brown paint,
as i beg for cold, thirst for salt, but do not run to the provocative, promising body beyond the dunes.
and my clothes are underfoot,
and this lemonade pink towel whose corner grabs at the sand,
and the hot dry fades into something that is sturdy and packed down by bounds like mine.
carbon slices at my underfoot,
the sharp home of a long-dead thing,
as my heel strikes the iron, water-pat shore, and the shock of it stuns my bones.
shock! cold underfoot
lace between my toes, smoking from wood and run
and then my face is in the sea, because who needs air when life is the sun trapping itself in the pink of my shoulder blades?
Jan 15, 2019
Jan 15, 2019 at 2:12 PM UTC
she manages to twist things into a lifetime wonder
but life is made up of losses, and finally
the picture stuns with clarity.
that she is merely an inexperienced truant-player on a roll
a rather silly heraldist of mundane matters
an astounding figment of wonder.
she holds in her right hand jagged wedges of exquisite thrills
which she feeds slowly to the roiling storm
one by one - by one.
on the edges of the larcenous cloud, she sits and waits
while throwing down pebbles of trying events
all soft-cloaked in secret mirth.
she grips in her left hand a galaxy of recalcitrant injuries
that, two by two, she lets orbit off into space
greet them in serene farewell.
S T, 10 May 2013
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 4:52 PM UTC
Thunderclouds booming like a military drum
Rain is pelting with a solitary hum
Lightning is crackling like the breaking of bones
The sky is attacking rough enough to break stones
The sun was a blood clot, before in the sky
a burning ball of fire that could gouge out your eyes
The grass was scorching, like needles beneath feet
Until the sun set, admitting untimely defeat
And the sky rolled yonder, like an enemy crouched
An ominous shadow till the war cry was announced:
Ear-splitting boom, that rattles in your gut
Louder than a gun, and it stuns, now you run -
But there's nowhere to run
There's nowhere to hide
From the galloping dread, like a torrential tide
Its coming for you, twisted hand of fate
shaped like a lightning bolt, straight out of the gate
The faces that peer, innocently knowing
That the sky-god's wrath was menacingly growing
They're scattered across planes, barren as ice
As the enemy cuts across them, with a single clean slice
Unwavering is fate, that tossed out their doom
And such is life and death,
As sudden
As unpredictable as a thunder's boom.
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 3:32 PM UTC
1342
“Was not” was all the Statement.
The Unpretension stuns—
Perhaps—the Comprehension—
They wore no Lexicons—
But lest our Speculation
In inanition die
Because “God took him” mention—
That was Philology—
1.6k
A quiet night,
a windy night,
a night...
for battle
I stalk the corners,
scan the windows,
watching...
for battle
My keeper sleeps,
safe in his dreams,
confident...
he will survive the night
A sound...
Zounds!
A foe in the dark!
He attacks!
Dodge! Jump! Roll!
We tumble and grapple,
my master wakes!
A light stuns my foe,
I deal the killing blow,
he stood no chance...
This string shall hurt my master no more!
Oct 9, 2010
Oct 9, 2010 at 6:58 PM UTC
I don't know whether I'm numb or accustomed to this feeling,
With time is it steeling?
What I should feel,
But then why shouldn't it steal,
This dreadful feeling,
That takes away from living,
But also takes away what I feel,
Should it continue to take the wheel?
Or ignore this feeling-once and for all,
Even tho I'm still affected by its call,
To ignite a fire in me,
That nobody can see,
Except for in my poetry,
Will I just let this feeling go,
To no longer feel that blow,
That ignites the flame,
And puts me to shame,
That feeling just always comes,
And me it almost always stuns,
Cause how could one get used to,
A feeling you feel abused to,
No matter what I choose-it'll always be present,
It's whether or not I chose to resent it,
And whether or not I feel it,
Is not always up to me,
You see,
It hurts me more than I'd like to admit...
....That **** jealousy...
Mar 8, 2015
Mar 8, 2015 at 11:13 PM UTC
First waiting
Anxiously take a seat
Gears turning
Sounds and movement begin
Slowly ascending
Trees leave the line of sight
Thoughts fading
The view stuns and stimulates wonder
Cerebration returning
Inspiration gathers as the moment passes
Still yearning
Anxiously must wait again
Moment approaching
Mentally process, soak it all in
Beautiful showing
Life from the ferris wheel view
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 2:47 AM UTC
I had the sunshine
The calm, the serenity
Of loose waves caressing the ocean shore
Of sweet sunshine bathing the world in golden joy
Of perfect winds, keeping the temperatures just right
I had it all
But now i find myself morphing back into what I used to be
The sunshine gives way to dark starry nights
The stars shine and glisten, always just out of reach
The waves are turbulent on the shore, crashing, thrashing, threatening those that come near
The winds are both silent and deadly in their hostile unpredictability
Oh sweet serenity, where have you gone?
I was glad when I found you
Now I’m all alone
The turbulence is back, it creeps in at the dead of night
When darkness takes more than just the morning light
Dear calm collected control
I’m holding onto you with the tips of my fingernails
Holding onto you with careful lies I tell myself, to keep going
I tell myself you’ll come back soon
That its just the effects of the day or the moon
But I feel it stirring now
The baseless anxiety
The unquestionable sadness that lingers in the back of my mind, at no thoughts in particular
The lack of thoughts and the sheer volume of them stuns me into paralysis
I am motionless as I attempt to move
I am confused
As I think ten steps ahead, while moving 3 steps back, I wonder, what have I done wrong?
I wonder, why has the sunshine gone
Apr 5, 2019
Apr 5, 2019 at 6:04 AM UTC
stove juts out
stuns in sixty-year-old kitchen
shiny, electric,
everyone marvels
so much better than the gas stove
as if the functions are not the same.
I, misled, maybe
have no newfound love
for false hearths
and work dens masquerading as homes.
we never knew food
just kosher salt, pepper, ketchup
a dash of rosemary
yet our curves labored, steamed hours
heaped over knotted heels
at the end of the workday
you were so tired
and we ate whatever you could manage.
I desired to taste liberty,
imagined I had it on a slow burner
simmering with
coriander seeds, cumin, cinnamon
chili powder bleeding into broth
parsley finely cut
into slivers for garnish grew
dry in my hands,
waiting.
Somehow I ended up
back in that same kitchen
a dream at my lips,
hungrier than before.
Aug 6, 2020
Aug 6, 2020 at 8:23 AM UTC
I. am. so. pathetic.
I'll look for days we work together
and look forward to it
only to end up
regretting
the fact that we did.
The days I know I'll see you
I'll try to be more pretty
A better version of me.
Only to have you not notice.
How is it possible that...
with one word,
you can ruin my day
week
month
life
with an action,
break my heart?
with a look,
make all cheer disappear?
And at the same time,
How is it possible that...
with a crooked smile,
you make my soul skip?
with a touch,
make my insides flip?
with an invasion in my thoughts,
make me blush?
with the sensation of your voice,
pep me up?
You hurt me
so much
un-intentional or not
you hurt me so much
yet I still
want you so bad
How can it be...
that in all misery,
I long to see
your face?
And at the same time...
want to
punch you
in that very face?
You made me feel special
at one point.
Made me feel wanted
even if
it was only
physically
sexually
you still
made me feel wanted.
And it felt so great
so good
to feel beautiful
but now...
it's horrible
feeling so horrid.
How you can...
toss my emotions
with such finesse
such ease
stuns me.
How I can...
dream, wish, hope
for you to
flirt
touch
tease
me
like you have before
and to do so once more
stupefies me.
You were
You are
my motivation
to impress
and look my
very best.
even if I fail.
Please!
I'm begging
you
at least pretend
you once again
like me
as more than a friend.
I don't care
if you play mind games
mess with my head
as long as
part of that time
I'll be in your arms again.
I hate
this desperation
hormonal infatuation
temptation and frustration
in having this almost-obsession for you.
My mind has changed
Now just go away
I may miss you
but still just
leave.
Because
the pain
of seeing you
all the time
knowing
you'll never be mine
is much worse
than "mixed feelings."
I can longer breathe.
Lift me up
out of love
During the fall
I broke too many bones.
But then again,
you're. as. pathetic. as. me.
because you can't see
how much more happy
you would be
if you let her go
move on.
She was never there.
She was always gone.
This V- romance
is too much
chance.
Let's break off
and
never
ever
get pieced together again.
May 19, 2010
May 19, 2010 at 2:57 AM UTC