"swathe" poems
Words swathe me in calm,
Sentences, paragraphs that soothe.
Viridian verbs burst through the grey,
Taunting me into action-
Seducing me into a delicious dance-
Gypsy girl, swing your sentences my way!
Turquoise adjectives wrap around my wounds,
Embracing my flaws and perfections.
Rough olive skin; somber caesious eyes-
Gypsy girl, with amaranthine scars.
I drape myself over sienna nouns,
Steadfast, supporting me proper, improper, always.
Paper, songs, tree, sky, love, Jami Lee-
Gypsy girl, use your words correctly!
Each turn of a page lures me deeper-
Each spoken rhyme embraces me close-
Jami Lee, sweet little girl, get your head out of the clouds,
And your nose out of a book!
Oct 13, 2012
Oct 13, 2012 at 9:23 AM UTC
Elated to see you aloft in the night sky
To what do I owe this enchanted boon.
In the merry company of winking stars,
Enthralled by this sight as I admire my moon.
Bathe me in your streaks of translucent silver.
Accompany me through my sleepless nights.
Watching over me with unwavering vigil.
Swathe me in whispers of peaceful respite.
Oh how you govern the raging tides of my soul.
Rest your gaze as the waters break upon my shore...
Erode and weaken the load strewn over my burning shoals,
Sands drowned breathless but craving for more.
Few nights now... Smitten as you coyly turn away.
Thick strands of shadow clad hair in gentle cascades,
Alluringly obscuring a slight fraction of your face.
A tiny crescent blanketed away; into the blackness it fades.
More nights pass... Now I see only a lesser moon
Leaving me with only half; darkness so had claimed.
Please make yourself last; you mustn't leave too soon,
I'm not ready to be left crippled and maimed.
I silently look up as more nights go by.
I watched my lunar love dissolving into space.
My heart too, torn away a morsel at a time...
Finally she had gone; without a sliver or a trace.
Every nightfall since is rife with emptiness and despair.
I asked the stars if they could soothe my gaping void...
But they'd only twinkle in indifference...
Regardless of the pleas I've employed.
Unsure of how many rises it has thus been.
Nights only brought the onslaught of mocking stars above.
Still I toy with the promises made overhead,
For the awaited return of my crazed elusive love.
I know it's frivolous to think I'm the only one...
There are others who pine just as I do.
But I yearn the most for your sought after attention,
For our hearts have sung in every colour and every hue.
Anxiety at peak, dismayed almost broken,
Then I hear a sweet song sung; distant and far.
A song that shared the words we once had spoken,
Again enveloped in translucent silver, with relief I sighed...,
"There you are..."
.
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 9:03 AM UTC
i.
An engineer of amour
Artificer of fine craft;
Abundant in moral class.
ii.
Alongside her
Astral hierarchy;
Tis, she's mine monarchy.
iii.
Fain, I taketh her cape
Made of foreign swathe;
Mixed with Filipino grape's.
iv.
Not slave's
Unrestricted with eachother;
Messenger's to thy planet, created under the milky way's feather.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication
Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 2:18 PM UTC
Daydreamer waiting for her surprise
She's always sitting on the bench outside
Watching through the golden glasses
She sees through her eyes a world that unties
Beautiful creatures and where love prevails
She always wonder why her beauty does not impales
As she holds so many wonders
A sweetness in her bright almond eyes, behind the glasses that sat crookedly on her nose
She focused her eyes on a flat prairie
Where the unaccustomed eye sees only ordinary
In hers, the dale was a beautiful swathe of shiny green grasses
Trees are clothed in delicious cream and pink blossom
Jasmines dancing to the winds, choreographing autumn breeze
The sun casting its last golden rays
Changing its yellow into hues of tangerine and fire red
Her perfect world, she whispers
She is a daydreamer
With eyes so full of love that will make you melt
She is beauty and love
Looking at her shadow slowly shrinking down her feet
Only her can see the magic
You will find her outside
Waiting for the man to share the same picturesque landscape
Seeing her reflection on him just like a mirror
Sharing a moment, a smile, a touch, a gaze
Closing their eyes to a slow and soft kiss
Alas; she is still waiting on this
Waiting to meet him flesh and bones
Dreaming about it everyday
This love she's never met,
Yet she seems to glimpse him in every corner
And because of it, her heart craves for blossoming flower
Her heart is bound to a fictional imagery of him
Creating imaginary moments and opportunities
Clinging to a false sign that precipitates desires
The desire to lay her eyes on him and feel his lips on hers
The desire to feel her body shivers with his skin on hers
The desire to feel his heart beating to her caress
the rush in her veins, with just his look
She will be an eternal daydreamer
Until she finds him sitting on the bench outside for her
For an eternity of love
Dec 21, 2017
Dec 21, 2017 at 1:42 PM UTC
little ***** being,
the petals that swathe you are pinker than mine
and your nectar is sweeter too. you
deserve to have a name
that matches
your melanin – pure as infant’s skin, not
human
but better than.
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 10:57 PM UTC
In the shadows rose the gallows,
his execution date drew near.-
Wolfe Tone, denied a soldiers ‘death,
could not hold life that dear.
He took a blade to his own throat
and cut a swathe of red.
It’s said he lingered but a week
then brave Wolfe Tone was dead..
He was the father of desire
for an Ireland brave and free.
Desire famine could not ****
nor emigration flee.
He choose the manner of his death.
He did not die a slave.
It put his life in context-
His words transcend the grave
Each year on the day he died
as long as Wolfe’s lived there
They lay a spray of roses
on his graveside in Kildare..
Jan 27, 2012
Jan 27, 2012 at 10:21 PM UTC
The Samurai sword cuts
Through my soul
Each syllable marking a
Swathe through my heart.
Those words
Couched in wellbeing,
laced with malice.
Careless
You seek to heal your pain
By inflicting another.
Fear
For the loss.
Control of another your comfort.
Destroy my heart then oh wise one.
Try if you will,
But remember,
I know!
Your words may hurt but
I am strong
They will not destroy.
I have decreed it so!
Within this lies my strength.
I will not surrender
Nor flee
But fly.
Beware your weapon yielding
That you cut not your own soul
In two
Beware.
Oct 21, 2009
Oct 21, 2009 at 1:02 AM UTC
The sky lies on the horizon
like a smoke-coloured cat
draped over a sofa of heather,
purple as pansies but sharper,
scratching against boots and paws.
It washes across the landscape
in a swathe of paint,
broken by breadcrumb rocks.
Up here, the wind gallops,
almost spins me round
to face home again.
Water framed by narrow paths
like battlements, flicking
onto grey stones and sand,
smell of earth, damp air.
Our path drops down
like the side of a ship and the dog,
ginger beacon in a sea of bog-grass,
skids on his front paws.
I shuffle sideways, crab steps
slipping from mud to puddle.
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 3:39 AM UTC
There is no need for all this strife,
All that’s required is Love of Life.
Religions and philosophies all seek Good,
Trying to get us out of this wood.
All you need is Love, The Beatles said,
So let’s put Evil and Hatred to bed.
Christian, Muslim or worshipping Buddha,
Atheist, Humanist, Taoist, Shinto, Hindu, Wiccan or any other,
It doesn’t matter for you are my Brother.
We’re all the same in God’s loving eyes
(Whether you believe or not)
From mighty whales to tiny flies.
Tigers bite and wasps do sting,
But each of them is a black and gold thing.
Life is precious in every form,
We all get beaten by that storm.
Give us a wormhole and we will find
Countless exoplanets that’ll blow your mind.
In the swathe of the universe we are but a speck,
Prepare yourself for an endless Star Trek.
But first we need to put our own Earth right,
And now it’s such a sorry sight.
Having technology is all very well
If all you can make is our version of Hell.
The human mind is far behind I hate to say,
We have to find the Loving Way.
Paul Butters
© PB 25\8\2015.
Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 5:50 AM UTC
envelop my heart
enfold my being
cocoon me in kindness
cover my doubts
encompass my thoughts
cloak my vulnerabilities
shroud my fears
enclose me in Love
shield my tenderness
encase my charms
veil my uncertainties
engulf me in your arms
swathe me with tenderness
encircle my energy
sheathe me from harm
envelop my heart
enfold my being
envelop my heart
envelop me
Copyright © 2015 Christi Michaels.
All Rights Reserved.
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 8:41 PM UTC
Labyrinth of memories
Hue of different colors
Swathe the lonely corridor
It’s a sacred place, within
Now and then I tend to visit
More vivid portraits of the past
Present and future are lost pieces
Here, the puzzle is unsolved
Because of the missing pieces
Destined this soul is
To walk the lonely labyrinth
No road ahead, it’s a cul-de-sac
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 12:43 AM UTC
Moonlight touches indigo,
As I create you once again in
This space, a swathe of cool air
Somewhere between night's breath
And the golden light of dawn...
Naivety wanders through rush-light,
A whisper waiting on a wilderness edge,
A green-eyed moon
Burning hours, like thin fire,
Curves my flesh...yet I am paler than sorrel...
An esoteric beauty, seducing immortal;
A litany of rose colour jewels
Surging, softly spreading
Like feathers, trailing your skin
Breaching the passage of hunger...
I lay upon fevered enchantment
Spilled in murmurs, wrapped and trembling
In the worship of your hands,
Tongue and lips
Whispering passion alive
Melting your flesh to quiver...
I taste the wild honey, captured by
Lips that ache with silent cries,
The sleepless dust, a crystalline prism,
Suspended upon dark velvet
Following the ghost of US.......
Jul 31, 2012
Jul 31, 2012 at 5:28 AM UTC
The broom slices across the floor,
Cutting a precise path through the mess,
Clean swathe through the valley,
Creating mounds of discarded,
Clothing,
Pieces,
Returning slowly to their original state while,
Still holding plastic memories of the night out,
-whether or not they resulted in a steady boyfriend,
Or a hang-over-
A strong attempt at cleaning up,
A fine start.
A wayward sock appears on top of the
Crest on the
Right
Smiling.
Freedom has come at last.
The lush valley,
Though it took years,
Has been traversed.
The mannequin operating the broomstick,
Is creating life at last,
And as was written,
The cockroach was right.
When a window is shut,
Somewhere, a door will open.
Jan 6, 2013
Jan 6, 2013 at 10:41 AM UTC
On the muted music of the zephyr, the viridescent folks' dance and the fluffs veiled in white, sallow, and orange tinges glide in the mid-air. In this pristine swathe shield by a mysterious guard against intruders, there's no gravity to land from jovial vibrations.
© Spriha Kant
Apr 10, 2021
Apr 10, 2021 at 1:04 PM UTC
.
Midday sweeps in
a bronzing fury,
prickling its way
through skin,
pierces the core
to bleed
then, drenched
in affectation,
I turn away
to rest.
I will swathe
some lotion after,
for the scent
of longingness
follows.
A bath awaits.
May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 11:54 PM UTC
The realisation dawned with the gentle swathe of a cool summer morning
Fond thoughts of you and those warm images no longer fills my mind
Memories of yester years and the yearnings of tender lingering swooning
That once rode on every beat of my pacing heart now seem hard to find
Whilst in the depth of me a silence carries a lament chilling with mourning
The years have their stories to tell but stilted performances is not living
Neither are the smiles that hide behind deceits so cold and unkind
We walked the jagged path but your voice sought kinship with axes striking
And when you offered water your eyes showed you had gone blind
Unable to see a soul holding for you nothing but a brimful of loving
Someday somewhere the brightness dims and chimes will be ringing
The late harvest will arrive floating in a wake of unforgiving wind
In your palm the rosy red apple of the past is now bitter and shrivelling
Its a tale told a million times so lets know the scribe not be fined
While the sages ask, what price is truth and harmony for a state of being
Copyright LaurenceA. 4th June 2018. All right reserved
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 9:02 AM UTC
Rain on me
In the cold clear Taranaki air,
waves of rain across the field, pelting down.
Saturating, pouring down my face, glasses fogged.
Every item of clothing on my body drenched and clinging.
The little red ride on mower spumes rooster tails of wet grass skyward
And I exult in the sheer brilliance of wetly getting this huge green swathe mown.
Marshalg
Laughing in the Taranaki rain
22 May 2011
May 22, 2011
May 22, 2011 at 1:55 PM UTC
Let your face shine with a smile behind your COVID 19 mask.
Swathe your lips with kind words.
Focus on others with the eye of your heart.
Dress yourself with a garment of contentment.
Infuse your community with the fragrance of compassion.
Saturate your heart with tenderness.
Ignite your soul with love.
Wear a crown of humanity.
Stand tall, as a role model for rendering services to others.
Hussein Dekmak
Feb 28, 2021
Feb 28, 2021 at 3:25 PM UTC
...meet you at noon cafe
touch gently, heart beating
your body closes mine
a special little kiss, surreal, so right
swathe shy both hearts
enfold you in my arms
my imagination is unfettered
from the laws of logic
magic rain changes to sun
mountains and oceans dance together
that feeling inside
unquestionable
like stars shine
and moon glows at noon
mind begins to swim
heart still beating
inside, I say:
you're all mine
I can call my own
with and without reasons
logic is unreign
promise tomorrow is at now
always...
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 7:45 PM UTC
the water grips my reflection
all wobbly head
quavering legs
a swathe of hillside
like an avocado slice
trees squashed together
in a bristly embrace
gluey splodge of cloud
on a periwinkle sky
shimmer of sunlight
across the lake
illuminates your face
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 4:12 PM UTC
Is tonight
Wheezing is still there
Thrilling soul longing hugs
About your beauty, of your story
I chose a name
My night was my decision
A face that is always approached
No tertepis every corner of the night
Sigh it has leached the image of me
Spoiled and ****** my restless
I remember crashing
In a restless night skinning desire
Wild romance getting chills
Strengthen the sense of an increasingly bubbling full of passion
My ***** was increasingly peaked
on a knoll longing in love.
My night was my decision
Longed lull in the swathe of memories
Closely in the hand held
Behind the no man's evening
Story uninhabited ago
It's never wanted cracked ..
Dec 26, 2013
Dec 26, 2013 at 5:54 PM UTC
A vast swathe
of uncut grain
Thrashing in
The wind
A lone scythe
sitting, watching,
quivering
At the sight before
Though unkempt and
swaying wildly,
Perfect
in imperfection
Though sharp enough
To fulfil its duty,
Sharp enough to
recognise the beauty
Of the unblemished
Nov 28, 2010
Nov 28, 2010 at 4:00 AM UTC
How to expand your vocabulary,
Quite incidental, actually.
Feed the need, that craving inside,
Bury the pip, symbols collide,
Confide in a way brevity insists,
Cast from heaps of molten lists.
Impossible sentiment proven not,
Paramount structure, stir the ***
Rot and dross swathe the beast,
Desperate for light, look to the East.
Irate in anguish, confined to doom,
Within the partition of the Lazarus tomb,
Displeased, they persist, clang the facade.
The home, the locale, of our very own God.
Indelible musing forms the rock,
Which from overhead, the horde did mock.
“Crock is what you mean to me!”
Bellow they do, around Judas tree.
Not ‘till the end, their faith to heal,
Endeavor to crack the Devil’s seal.
Reel and teeter, the flock ****** to awe,
The phonies true, their passion raw.
Once impalpable, begins to soar
Above them all, a Monster no more.
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 4:55 PM UTC
A beastly wind with savage heat
Blew from the north with dust,
The brazen sun relentlessly
Baked skin as red as rust.
To scan the near horizon
Is to ***** the eyes to squint
And a man would **** his brother
For a cold beer from a ****
There’s orders for the gunners
To load cannon with coarse shot,
To prime them with dry powder
And ram them all till hot.
To keep the eyes upon the hills
And be ready for the call,
Because the savages are massing
And our backs are to the wall.
Release the carrier pigeon, boy,
To recall the horse hussars
Because before this day is done
Our blood may run in jars
For the drums of war are beating
And they’re sweeping from the hills
And God help the luckless fusilier
Who dallies with his skills.
In waves, the savages do run
And roar their chant of war,
Beat their spears upon hide shield
And roll their eyes and more...
A wall of pure malevolence
Descends upon us large
And we gird ourselves for battle
And the bugle screams the charge.
Black naked men pour from the earth
In hoards of shrieking mad
With rolling eyes and streaming hair
And rancid breath, so bad.
Roaring shot and cannon volley
Cut a swathe through flesh,
Spear and shrapnel fly opposed
And axe and bayonet mesh.
Swearing men are head to head
Blood and guts do flow,
The agony and roaring triumph
As blades trade blow for blow.
Good and bad are dying now
Their bodies fall like rain,
Young cry for their mothers
While the older scream in pain.
Blood is running in the sand,
Twitching bodies lie,
The jagged sound of battle dims
As vultures fill the sky.
There’s silence with the setting sun
As horse hussar arrives
Too late, by far, to save the boys
Who lay in clouds of flies.
Marshalg
@The Bach
Mangere Bridge
18 January 2011
Jan 17, 2011
Jan 17, 2011 at 7:09 PM UTC