"suffuse" poems
I become more erudite at night.
I feel a sprite within me ignite words,
by candlelight I feel the old masters lift their quills,
place nib in ink and nib to paper.
I invite their words and imagery to suffuse me,
use me in this modern world.
Make new what once was old.
Where nib would glide I touch my screen,
watch avidly as sentences appear,
magic symbols transformed to meaning,
like runic stones of old, or bones thrown for reading.
My words by candlelight enfold and embrace me,
in the knowing language of the poets, bards and storytellers.
Tonight, I delight at my copywrite scribed by candlelight.
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 6:53 PM UTC
ruminating
cogitating
pondering
thinking
the subject matter doth
put the mind into a thought seat
is there sufficient verbs for me
to place on the paper's sheet
verbs by definition are words
which have an action
they on the reader
do have an impaction
so let's explore a topic
worth a thousand of them
how I'll express this piece
shall test my mind's stem
here is the matter I shall discuss
without any duress or manner of fuss
all over the globe there is much trouble
our planet is not as a carefree bubble
the inhabitants often observe strife somewhere
our corners of four not of an according air
were there to be peace and calmed relations
no concerns would beset our world's many nations
yet a propensity for war doth ever prevail
what sane men shall see the wrongs of this pail
verbs shall never explain man's idiocy
as he's ever involving himself in armory
yet a man who did advocate cordiality
lived with his brothers in true harmony
he was a meek man of the Indian land
a message of non-violence he did band
the lessons of history are never heard
man seemingly ever in the warring herd
the middle east is a tinder box of hell this day
exploding bombs and munitions all spray in affray
verbs of dialogue aren't put to good use
an ongoing lighting of the fuse doth suffuse
few statesmen of Gandhi's ilk now exist
so the torture and torment of war shall e'er persist
diplomacy has lost its edge around the globe
our planet shall remain bound in worrisome lobe
the count of verbs in this piece didn't quite reach a thousand
yet deaths in conflicts outdo that number by the thousands
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 5:18 AM UTC
Frozen moments,
embraced,
visions of
luminous things,
unpretentious
pearls dancing;
embers of memory linger,
elegy of the lachrymose,
this horizoning self
lying low in saturnine
tranquility
and repose – paternity lost
to the provisional.
The cross of lassitude,
forming
scars of loss;
estrangement,
preface to
ineluctable autonomy.
Earthen treasure - immortal
footprints, the migration
of fair maidens across my
effusive heart.
Venus trio in bloom,
aesthetic allusion,
ephemeral incarnations
of beauty - perishable fruit,
transcending the plebeian.
Aerial substance-
the hermeneutic,
betraying desire’s
ambrosial tyranny;
The permuted passage -
savor the sojourn, submit
to the fated peregrination.
Purple orchids blossom,
immortal creatures,
culminating
in perfection
from the sheath
respectively,
each plume,
singular,
the continuum of
splendor, mediate
the inviolable.
Eternity compounding,
time and essence suffuse
the already and not yet
into an
orbiting mosaic.
The susurrant devotions
of a satellite father,
summon the quest -
both, and,
absence and proximity,
conduits of
distress and peace
ironically,
solace and
terror
traverse the
same path.
Plunge though,
deep, the depth of pain;
deeper, sweeter
the taste of pleasure.
Engender and witness,
window into
preeminence,
surface azure,
the sacred -
inimitable gravity of
grandeur,
ma petite,
you - are
lived poetry
seen and heard;
cosmic order,
a mediating heuristic -
to love is to see,
in the dismal,
gift of distance.
child of delight,
evermore, Don’t I hold you?
Beauty and strangeness,
music found
in linear,
secret places
beyond the tangent,
purview of limitation,
arousing imagination -
infinititude as near
as it is far.
Long loneliness -
dissonance that
resolves;
perceiving,
the tertiary refrain -
as exquisite verse,
and matchless liqueur,
sublime gratuity
derived
through
doors of surrender.
Daughter,
in adoration and wonder,
I hold you.
Jan 19, 2012
Jan 19, 2012 at 5:25 PM UTC
A yank around the branch for an unripe banana tree
makes for peels at the tears; an aggrandized detainee.
In three proper pieces, breathing spiff in the fog,
split flat on the soil, in an envelope of slog,
it doesn't really matter because
nobody knows but you.
It only really matters when
the answer is ubiquitous.
A pupil to imbue
labradoritic hues
will disagree to acquiesce
and suffuse bleeding happiness.
Oct 28, 2010
Oct 28, 2010 at 12:00 PM UTC
hey there, i’ve got some bad news
it’ll wrap your neck tight with a noose
until your cheeks turn purple-blue
and you can’t feel your feet in your shoes
you’ll want to pick up a bottle of *****
and down it until your body feels abused
you’ll pass out and wake up confused
perhaps with a new drunken tattoo
all of your friends may be amused
but your regret and shame will suffuse
each time they point, laugh and slap the bruise
you’ll hide your pain ‘cos that’s what strong people do
and resentment will ride high through and through
‘til your face turns rock cold and you make the excuse
that everyone is ****** and they’re the ones to accuse
you’ll abandon your home without saying adieu
because you don’t need people that make you feel deduced
you don’t need to feel like you are being used
to the point you turn dark and only want to seclude
from love itself cause you can’t trust that it’s true
you can’t trust that it’s safe or that it won’t lead you askew
you might want to die, though the thought is so taboo
you’ll judge yourself for holding onto society’s views
until it comes to the point where you can’t handle the queue
the waiting for love gets tough but the whole time you grew
and it’s not so bad anymore, it even almost ensues
so you get on a boat, and row your canoe
out in the river, it’s just the water and you
and you’ll realize, finally that you’ve got nothing to lose
Sep 1, 2012
Sep 1, 2012 at 12:43 PM UTC
619
Glee—The great storm is over—
Four—have recovered the Land—
Forty—gone down together—
Into the boiling Sand—
Ring—for the Scant Salvation—
Toll—for the bonnie Souls—
Neighbor—and friend—and Bridegroom—
Spinning upon the Shoals—
How they will tell the Story—
When Winter shake the Door—
Till the Children urge—
But the Forty—
Did they—come back no more?
Then a softness—suffuse the Story—
And a silence—the Teller’s eye—
And the Children—no further question—
And only the Sea—reply—
1.7k
Some days the sky is a glass chalice we hold between our lips to take a sip
The palliative qualities divine in nature are seeping through the subtle splits on the surface of our palms
Fleeting textures suffuse through our quivering hands
Various hues illustrate the wrists as they coil upon the cadaverous structure
Outlining our internal scaffolding with diverse shades
Colours ricochet within our human receptacles
Our bodies are prisms allowing the light of the sun to shine
Beams break forth from the orifice that rests upon our undistinguished faces
Reminders of what is within splintering through every available opening
Wandering rays rendezvous at the core of the chest
Exploring uncharted paths on the geography of our physical selves
Transcendent roads vague to our periphery
Slowly defining their forms on the outskirts of our wearied retinas
Our illuminated minds, embodying the sun
candescent stones fortified by layers of bone meant to hold their fluorescence
Our organic beams of light, such tender arms, lingering in the punctured sky
are using the clouds as paintbrushes, pieced together bits of mosaic already at their disposal
Our backs resting on abstract clay with shifting pastels, whispering clarity into our cartilage
leftover laments torn apart to bits with the newfound realization that we are whole.
Like unearthed clairvoyance, we survey the translucent waters before us
peering into the stillness our bodies disrupt like the pillars of beautiful dissonance they are
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 12:39 PM UTC
She cries—
melancholy skies draped in luscious grey
her iridescent tears falling in tempo
parched soil, drowning in generosity
leaving a damp aroma to suffuse through brisk gales
—for us
Jan 17, 2023
Jan 17, 2023 at 4:27 PM UTC
I was the daughter of winter
when you began to whisper
in my frigid ear. I lifted two
snowballed hands and chiseled
through the solid ice; bitter
words pierced the raw mist
surrounding me, but you were
not disarmed. I tried to stop the
thawing, dreamed lustily of a
rapidly approaching sleep,
that deep freeze and muffled
silence. You stayed, shivered,
and I was suffuse in tender
sunlight, for you were an
Indian summer, a falsehood
by very nature—false hope,
false promises, false warmth.
Your lilting birds and sultry
air enchanted—I was dizzy
and drunk, melting slowly.
You sang in the soft breezes,
danced frantically in the wake
of falling leaves, and swore
with each delicate blue sky:
It will always be this lovely!
But you were just a charade.
I was no more than a pool,
heated from the diminishing
glow of your fervor’s twilight,
and Autumn waited, patient,
as the mask finally slipped.
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 1:10 PM UTC
Fret Not!
Thou canst but read them all!
Hordes beset the pages now here-in
Contorting mental faculties to new and different bent
Perusal of Poetry in monumental quantities
is known to suddenly suffuse the brain with lusher thoughts, ideas
Behold! A new man doth arise
as a Phoenix from the ashes of despair
Continue on, my friend, to try to drink of all the knowledge here
While Eliot wafts his magic wand creating wonders in the air
But, ya can't read 'em all.............alas
Aug 21, 2015
Aug 21, 2015 at 9:34 PM UTC
It feels like your hand at the small of my back
Warm and smooth
Feels like hurry
Feels like warmth curling rolling up my the skin of my belly
Like the thousand little worrys are gone
And I'm with you.
Feels like I don't care even what you think
Mountains of want and nothing else
Feels like my fingertips on your eyelids
Closed and wet
Your eyebrows, sable and warm
Slick oily skin, under your cheek bones
Your mouth, your lips my fingertips inside
Reach
Toes hard, pechos curled
Spoonerisms
Memories of time spent with you
in our imaginations mix with life.
You wanted to teach me
what the word prosaic means.
No dictionary in the world comes close.
Your hands on my neck.
Your flush of anger, as I tense
and relax at your touch.
Slower you go,
feeling my desire for you
spike as fear flees
and I suffuse with Trust.
You're amused and distracted by it
I am challenged to keep your attention
where it belongs.
My hands on your shoulders
Rushing to forget who did what.
The world around us roaring whirlygig
at our own callous amusement.
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 10:12 AM UTC
The fences erected with barbed wire
A wall translucent with hints of light
The pace of my heart outshines the dark
The blight of the society keeping us apart
As the sea sways from shore to shore
Reign forever my love, I lay my cards to care
It’s the light from the window reigniting hope
The stroll by the ocean is a memory I hold
We first kissed and sealed as the fairly ceased
The reality of the skies and earth encased us
We met and I became a hazard to myself
Your love pierces deeper than crystallized salt
My pupils elongates as I strive your depths
The reminiscence of the pebbled path as I reach
A foreigner to the notion of love, I stray
Yet, on my travels your loneliness haunts me
Reappear to show me the exhibit of love
Clouds uncovered there is no where to hide
Unshell the cage and let me suffuse your all
Obtuse, no lust or obsession possessing me
Resurrect the innate human scenery of true love
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 10:15 AM UTC
languid shrouds of
language apocryphal
indistinct and purely equestrian
but it seams
to glow of moisture gleaming like an organic high
with undulance continuity pleasing in a way
a strand of care-free rhapsodic parody
by chance bluish purple
ostentatious echoing
evocative even if not meant
like a dream state
a plethora suffuse
a glowing abundance
of too much
new.
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 5:56 AM UTC
Find a way out as I trapped in this tomb,
Find a way out as it break through the womb.
There, the girl with a rose and her eyes close.
Find a way out in this unknown song,
Find a way out from what had been long.
There, the keeper answered cold and everything sold.
Find a way out as the tears fall,
Find a way out as the crack on the wall.
Here, I am suffuse with full of confuse.
Dec 18, 2016
Dec 18, 2016 at 12:19 PM UTC
come this day with me and look upon the earth.
She is a wise
wide at the hip
deep into her
basin where
the folding occlusion
of her bulging lips
contain the
exstatic pearl of life.
she is full:
her thighs
abound over
in supple fat;
her moss is
golden she hangs
a bent beam
on the running
rill from her
cleft bump,
the hillocks
suffused in
grass rollick
and distend
pleasantly.
within where
the waters
part themselves
into blood
and wine.
Her mucous
is secrete:
it flows
en-opaled.
The eyes are for it.
The mouth is for it.
The hands are for it.
it holds wide itself,
(and tight and suffuse
and secretly languorous)
for all who would enter;
and ALL entering is here.
And leaving too
is here:
there is entering and there is exiting here;
one quickly after the other,
or at the same time,
or at neither--
entering and exiting all the same.
She is a worm hung
and in her cellar
is some moist rot;
but do not dismay
for as entering and exiting:
from rotting there is birthing.
And how we are born.
And how we come from her.
And how we come into her.
And are made the same again.
Apr 16, 2021
Apr 16, 2021 at 1:38 PM UTC
Esoteria, this marble body wrought of burden
Of the Halcyon days, breathéd in these coarser ways
I peer rapture ‘pon the retina at what you sought
And won to capture.
I see my kind and its soul in artful craft and oil
Marvel at an author’s hand the suffuse horror
Beauty demands. How fickle the smoke of
Inspiration. My torture scratched half on leaf
Come as these came, fleeing we for it Eden
Burned and pacified this trembling hand needn’t pacify
The true desire of my own a prize for heart
‘gainst, I know the pillar lone.
So ebb and flow melancholia go, ‘twas that despair
Walked hand-in-hand down the ****** gates, no worse
For wear, that belle danseuse undone and bare
Morose lines drawn away in the scope of stare.
My future was so painted thus, these seconds were
A stronger pulse, no stranger to my wicked book
But I know difference; set I to find the charm and
Awe her radiance inspired.
Lo, it was not painting nor poetics, but the hand
Sleepy eyes, such confound this tongue and scene
Pathetic—this waylayer of my woe escaped
With the point of her toe, blind to things as I and drapes.
More joyous I couldn’t be, before aesthetics
As such let be and seeking to seek her out
As fiction demands content, I stay devout
Between pillar lone and the crashing wave of dreams
Come pouring forth. Shall I mar this angel,
Crestfallen, who, nay, suffers for awe?
Yes, I must for fear of my echo’s mate so cherished
Is fate for beauty so raw in moment’s time I’ll speak of love.
Her gaze is passed from room to wall as a spectre,
I, unseen and all, reach out, frozen as David to
Frustrate a period in done, unfinished verse
Still climbing, but to now a leveled curse.
‘T’is fitting a hand as mine would rightly ruin
No eye, nor brain, nor mouth a cage, my hex
An artist seeks Elysium so truth to coincide—
I’m vexed—as love and word step from my life
In tow, they from the page.
Perhaps even these can’t sustain the ecstacies
Ecstacies of the unlovely as I at portrait’s gaze
Stand and profane a sacred she or there,
Genius in the gallery still prey for Esoteria.
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 12:50 AM UTC
I love the words, their innuendo, the lilt and cadence,
I play with meter and beat, and search for exact, right, precise meanings.
I suffuse and enthuse and pass on the love of words,
Sharing with young ones the magic of expression.
Until now.
The words are meaningless and cannot express.
I only sit beside you and we breathe in tandem.
Quiet. Without words.
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 12:49 AM UTC
Are you there for me?
Are you calling me?
So, are you there for me?
Will you wait for me?
Will you welcome me?
Yes, will you welcome me?
Oh, will you welcome me-ee-ee-EEE?
Will you please guide me to the Light?
Help me emerge.....
Oh, let me not melt away (into darkness)
Shake off the shackles, shake off the shackles!
Chorus:
Let beauty and Light suffuse my being
For I'm really so tired.......of the pain.
No more tears. No more pain.
No need anymore.
No more suffering. No more judgement.
No need anymore (for anything).
No need to worry. No more cold words.
No more swallowing.
No need anymore.
I can see the sun in your eyes
As a beacon to the Lost.
Near the edge of eternal cliff, oh-oh-oh
Be my Lighthouse, be my Lighthouse! ...repeat chorus
Refrain:
Am I willing this time, to step out?
Am I ready to go all the way-ay?
Have you been helping me?
Oh, have you been helping me-ee-ee-EEE?
Who's gonna hold my hand
When the coldness sets in?
For I'm really so tired.....
Oh, no-o-o-oh! ......repeat chorus
So, are you there for me?
Are you calling me?
Oh, are you there for me?
Will you wait for me?
Will you welcome me?
Yes, will you welcome me?
Oh, will you welcome me.......?
By Star Toucher, 7 February 2013
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 10:09 AM UTC
The sun inches skyward
in the quiet after-rain
of a gentle pre-dawn shower.
The rich sweet essence
of moistened earth
suffuses the air with promise.
Towering oaks and sugar maples
oscillate in the breeze -
their capricious rushing sounds
playing pristine counterpoint
with the jaunty chants
of robins, cardinals and chickadees.
Spring is pacing in the wings
awaiting her cue from the wheel of time.
and all creation waits in concord.
© 2016 by Robert Charles Howard Our steadfast sun inches skyward
in the quiet after-rain
of a gentle pre-dawn shower.
Rich fertile essences
of moistened earth
suffuse the air with promise.
Towering oaks and cottonwoods
shiver in the breeze -
their capricious rushing sounds
play pristine counterpoints
with the jovial chants
of robins, wrens and chickadees.
Spring is poised in the wings
for a cue from the wheel of time.
and all creation waits in concord.
© 2016 by Robert Charles Howard
Mar 19, 2016
Mar 19, 2016 at 10:48 AM UTC
Why am I crushing myself
to death and beyond?
Feeling bereft
for that which I haven't
touched in years.
Leadening my heart,
and dragging my feet
because each step
is a step further
from lightness and youth.
I bore myself with this weight.
Loathe the tyranny,
and mighty pressure
inside my head
which threatens incapacity
of reason every ten seconds.
Why did he come back at all?
If only to suffuse me
with the promise of nothing,
and the intangibility
of all ****** lovers?
And, forgive me,
for ****** is how I feel.
Self-pity, you old devil!
I shall have this out of me,
or pick over it
'til my heart lays waste
all good intent.
I wish to be suspended,
as the crystallised air,
inside the strange house.
Where, this morning,
I chanced upon myself in mercury,
and tumbled through the ages.
As rose-heads wither on the stem,
my head shall fall
upon my chest with piquant,
silent longing.
And so, unto history
a dream shall die.
Should I die with it?
Or resurrect a steely charm?
Neither, sweet prince,
for your fleeting
and unseen visit
has taken my soul.
And, thus protected
from the whimsy of flattery
I stand, without notion,
of which way to turn
upon a once-clear pathway.
Should I chance you in my dreams,
I would but falter at your beauty,
though fail to recognise you -
for I no longer trust
what my eyes alight upon.
I am torn -
lamenting and tidal -
with hands that were always empty.
So what have I lost?
Nothing, that is all.
Nothing at all.
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 4:43 AM UTC
i once cherished to a flower with care,
Watching it bloom, its scent would suffuse the air.
But as time passed, i grew bored, weary,
And stopped your care, not fully there.
As the days went by, the scent waned,
Just like that, the flower was gone.
Now you yearn for the fragrance you once ignored,
And crave the care you let pass, forever more.
Dec 13, 2024
Dec 13, 2024 at 12:50 PM UTC
I love the words, their innuendo, the lilt and cadence,
I play with meter and beat, and search for exact, right, precise meanings.
I suffuse and enthuse and pass on the love of words,
Sharing with young ones the magic of expression.
Until now.
The words are meaningless and cannot express.
I only sit beside you and we breathe in tandem.
Quiet. Without words.
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 12:43 AM UTC
In places underneath or between the rain
Blossoms are budding, suffuse with stalking light
Until the evening drags off towards
a slow, easy death
Each hour an ending in itself, reflected against premonitions of waning chance.
This curse of a spring, supplementing
calm for action, cautions a new spirit of resilience
in, taking with it the attraction of deference
Like the waves that crash at the shipping bay
Now, all is circumstance
I read the newsfeed everyday
as a means of counting against this stifling reassurance.
Apr 3, 2018
Apr 3, 2018 at 7:26 AM UTC