"swathing" poems
The morning sun rays bathing the soul
Waking it up from the dreaming consciousness
Eyes soaking in the awakened beauty
Taking off the cover of night, to reveal a new day
Sun rays swathing over the valley
A watercolor painting over the Earth’s canvas
Vivid colors are splashed to create a spectacle to behold
A wave of warm embrace caresses us
As we get ready to rise up to the occasion
To usher a new day and new dreams in our heart
© Amitav (Radiance)
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 7:47 AM UTC
*coloured flames and fireflies dance mischievously around our heads
to the tiny trumpetsong of bees Joyous songs of love lulling all in revery yet silent to
mere mortals as We only hear the hush of whispered sighs stood beneath the dappled canopy of
ancient fair oak spread As sweet twilight greets us again swathing our Ianthe in milky moonlight
as she rests upon a dew jewelled knoll still dreaming of fae Unaware of the cold (or the warmth
you hold in your heart for her) She smiles as you cover her shoulders with a elven~made
blanket of gossamer wisp whilst estivating toads blink wide in the coolness of hidden
mossy beds Gently,
sweep the droplet
of Au from her eye, Deva,
as we cough etheric dust from our lungs,
sparkles floating
in the paper-
lantern light
scattering across
the midnight sky,
illuminating fates,
as those fire-flies hearts
twinkle like falling stars unseen*
Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 5:21 PM UTC
God is spoken
From a potent Thing
we smoking Trees
Gaia birthed the bloom
breathed the boom
in the canopies,
In the wind flew the bees
and grew the pleasantries
Prana pushing
thunder through
sQuishing lemon trees
like a hundred new
Whisps of mists
and heavy deeds
Sit with honeydew
The gist of this
the lemon breeze
(We) Going tunnel view
Fits and Shakes,
seeking remedies
digging under you
Might be
dicking under you
Might be
Torn asunder true
Pirate borne to plunder you....
Sweat means gold,
what's been found
with lemon -ease?
I've been told
What in our eyes
is what we ever see's
7 seas,
more like 7 deeds,
filled with deadly feeds
Demons like to pleade
with ready rease,
Virus, the life that
spread disease
(it alters our sense
and what we please)
~Ahem,
***no te comas
la verdad
del diablo,***
today to trust
Might feel bad, but
none brought low
There's an easy in
WE Strong Standin',
N0ne brought low
and now we win
amen, a man
none start south
Its begun...
Light as
Potent as my prayers
**** the make-believe
***I can't wear it, ah
Dark is
Ever reaching
What do you receive?
***What you carrying hah?
Balance
(Is) an even preaching :
What we choose to be
***I can bear it ; hah
Come and help me unweave
those who have been so deceived
Those stuck in in the mud of ...
sputtering " how can it be ?"
**** the you or me, mentality
When Neurons Fire free
and Serotonins drained in me
You Might find Saraswati
sweetly swathing me
In glowing rivers,
poured off the moon
With Omens looming soon
With Omens looming soon
I been choking on my doom.
Dreaming
with Both eyes open
and a heart awoken ,
poorly stoking gloom
Too blind to see hope
but stoked, still
mocking roving
Vroom : im off to tokin soon.
Sh!t this blunt be totaled soon
I Might be total loon
an inverted magic man
who most often enwomb
those caught on the moon
Those stuck in the tune
For those who hear
this earworm, this tea room sloom.
This is for Those muted in zoom:
I've found traction in heaps
Breaking as hard and often
As the risen yeast
When you pass on the least
My Passion is to find
the passion of peace
its Stuck In the grasp
Fashioned with the sap
of my last energies...
May 3, 2022
May 3, 2022 at 12:27 AM UTC
November calls to me
in moaning wind rattling doors and shutters
bending gnarled weather scarred oaks
November calls to me
in blue gray mists
swathing forest and morning meadows
endowing them in aura of mystery
November calls to me
in icy drizzle
flooding like tears
filling me with hopeless despair
November calls to me
in dry rustle of dying leaves
echoing voices from yesterday
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 10:05 PM UTC
if you could hold me in
like burning dawn
on the tips of fall mornings
i would scratch our names
into my bark
i would lean over children
that looked like you, baby
sew my leaves to their jackets
so they would always smell
like fresh dew on a misty morning
water my roots and trim
the thorn bushes i've collected
a dress swathing hips
that are barer than deserts
and if i sing this song now
would you come to me in honest
or like schoolyard jokes
will you kiss my fingers only in jest
i'm a simple plant i need only
sunshine and damp dirt
bare bones lapping up nutrients
a stolen kiss over dinner
a bath that is not lonely
a hand to be held
on afternoons in the city
two people staring in rapture at each other
in the black subway windows
Oct 12, 2012
Oct 12, 2012 at 12:53 PM UTC
So many feelings comes surging
Breaking all the inhibitions
Every word cocooning those moments
Each of them a luminous sparkle of the soul
Flowing through the veins
Reminding you of the special moments
Waiting to be chronicled as a memoir
Taking up the pen
Connecting your soul with the paper
Every drop of ink carrying your inner world
Drawing a vivid sketch of your feelings
Wholeheartedly soaked in the ambiance
The white paper now colored with memories
Once staring at the blankness
You can see the words dancing to your tune
Pen moves like a magic wand
As you breathe life on the paper
With those precious feelings
Swathing it with your inner luminosity
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 2:54 PM UTC
It’s a simple, mundane day, yet busy with an absolute slew of schoolwork
I take up a table in the library, high up on the 4th floor, overlooking
The shapes below with different work in the same time and place
There’s a large model airplane, an early model,
Suspended by cables that attach themselves to the far walls,
Yielding the illusion of mid-flight
It appears I wasn’t the only one with the idea to seclude myself this high;
Around me are the detached murmurs of still more students, bent
On the conclusion of their labors, some more eager than I, some less so
And closer to me, on a juxtaposed table, is another student, about my age
Shuffling through what looks like math
But I don’t pride myself much on intrusion, so I let him be
For hours we all toiled, us in the 4th floor and us down below
The music of light concentration, fluttering pages, a utensil,
Swathing through those immobile wings and dwindling on the propeller
The time is rapidly becoming the enemy in all our bingo books
And of the books stacked in the cluster of cases, some of which will no doubt remind one
Of the timeless saying that ‘time waits for no one’
The student of the table next to me is still at work, and I’m still at work
And people file in and out of the door which leads downstairs,
Faces going in with indignance and a foreknowledge of what they’re to do
Faces leaving triumphant, secured in another day’s duty crossed off
I steal a look at the student close to me
I see him pass a tired hand over his eyes
(I agree with his plight)
By now we’ve been swarmed with a million like us
Jumping from table to table to seat to seat, in groups or in respectable solitude
A veritable mosaic of people, a timelapse in ironic real-time, elapsed second onto second
The darkness crowds the unlucky surfaces of the windows, tries to push in
And like lichen stuck to sea rocks amid a terrible tidal storm we remain
Jaded and mentally broken down, but finally we see each other
He looks at me dully, I return it with a shrug and the slightest smirk
And I think we both understand it
Though no words needed to pass through the air, nor signals of the eyebrows,
The hand, the heavy persistent sigh
We’ve seen the lapse, just us and the jetstream of the world unending
And he looks away, and I look away at the suspended plane, still as it ever was
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 10:48 PM UTC
#*
The sky looks great
When the sun is up
And the clouds are late
Spilling bright threads
Doing crochet patterns along the vast blue
Slowly, curling back into a ball of white
Swathing the sun
In rose gold silks*#
Apr 14, 2021
Apr 14, 2021 at 2:06 PM UTC
I can see the darkness swathing everything into its fathomless cloak.
Greedily swallowing, leaving only death on its wake.
Exhausting every essence until nothing is left.
Blinded by the darkness I walked, searching for something.
Nothing, there is nothing, just the void.
Fear started to creep into my system.
Like a hangar engulfed in flames.
I feel consumed, corrupted.
On the verge of insanity
I prayed, to whom, I am not certain exist.
I waited, but I waited in vain.
No one came to rescue me, no angels, not even a flicker of light.
Despair started to plague me.
Like a contagious disease it kills me, thoroughly.
I am shattered like a broken glass, crushed into million fragments.
There is no hope
I'm afraid to admit it, but there is really no hope.
Sep 22, 2013
Sep 22, 2013 at 8:31 AM UTC
A full moon
Swathing white light
The illuminating ethereal fire
Rests upon and rest beneath
Amidst a midnight forest
Where silence calms the restless trees
The unearthly glow has a story to tell
For those whose manifestation is brought in question
Accept the light that is a reflection of the day
Drink its wisdom and immerse in its wonder
For tomorrow is another day
And as the heart grows dim, the moon’s phase wanes
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 6:57 AM UTC
A carpet of grass deft underfoot,
like a huge grey blanket swathing the landscape,
cold and bleak, enticing a quickened pace,
Whistling wind wraps around me like a skeletons arms,
teasing and beguiling me onwards toward a destination unknown,
on its breath ride the whispers of forgotten lost souls.
The moon peers down through a silken scarf of blackened clouds,
Its knowing face smiling sinuously, as if luring ships to the rocks on a tempestuous sea,
from its mouth fall beams of light that illuminate the hills and troughs ahead, like a procession of flickering lanterns on a majestic parade,
Blackened gnarled trees seem to bow in respect as the coldness of the night permeates my core,
their dark shapes appearing on the horizon, like tomb stones in some ancient graveyard.
So among this swathing scene unfolding and with coat collar raised, I merge with the shapes and disappear into the folds of night.
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 2:41 PM UTC
Prelude:
From Fullness swathing, wake left
in wake of...truly, there is no passing
but an Emptying of Fullness.
...Needless to say, ecstatically
vibrating...you have all the blessings
silence can muster.
Could, I would...imbed this sky
in memory, self-proclaim its radiant
blankness upon it.
That I may be what I see, already
in memory of me, though I've come
to know and love...that any personal
touch, is yet an impersonal one.
Bless that which was drawn in, and
drawn out...lay the heart entire upon it.
We are the Knowers of things that stand,
and tilt by degree momently...we are
the Knowers of the last leg, lest it
overstep that which it's overstepped by.
Fit for us, as every other--momentously,
equally fit...the call to life is what silence
took as her deepest secret.
Nothing could wrest this burden from
her hands, for she loves it as her self...
therefore restores what she holds forever.
~Om Namah Shivaya~
Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 10:28 AM UTC
The sun rays invade the hall
Swathing the floor with warmth
Artifacts of yesteryear look grand
The stained glasses add to the aura
Reminiscing the magnificence
Resounding voices of commands
So many at the beck and call
Slightest whisper was authority
Twilight descended on the dynasty
Sun rays reminding the past
All faces but remains in portraits
Years ago, the tales that transpired
Writ all over the walls and artifacts
Glorious past lit up by morning rays
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 11:24 AM UTC
Hide your despair from God.
Bury it deep in your heart.
Do not think of kisses,
or hands touching skin.
Do not think of meeting with relief.
Forget the blankness of
this room in the dark.
Forget the empty,
scooped out sadness,
no longer pungent.
Only when you forget your desire
can God see it
in its truth.
Cover it in a cloud of forgetting
and turn your thoughts to the simple joy
of unencumbered being.
There you are a little god,
enough to answer your own prayer.
Here you are a demon,
swathing yourself in torment.
Hide your despair from God.
Bury it deep in your heart.
Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 7:34 AM UTC
i was awake, in the dark,
floating over leaves, as the rain
began. or, at least i wished i
were. instead, i was fumbling under
orange light, dark
patches slowly adorning the
asphalt passing below. i was
free, but only within the
confines of a cage i'd crafted
for myself, as long ago as
organic advent, and as soon as
perpetual. stuck in a reverie,
further down the coastline, i
discovered i could no longer
feel. awake and distanced, i felt
the claws within
my ribcage
instead simply pass through,
and couldn't decide if
i'd been cheated, or stumbled
onto the trail of fretless
existence. thus arose my worry,
and, all fears confirmed, is set
out to find something that dug
in. hurt or elate or panic or
wonder hid, behind the curtains
of cold swathing me, though.
the sky is just a sky.
nothing
builds up, just spreads at my
feet. grass is just a series of
fibre and proteins. a long wait is
just a clock's hands.
down some road, the days
while away in the same or
different places. i am
predominantly the same,
indifferent.
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 6:25 AM UTC
what began
words
what started?
a song
before and after
its still going
you just stopped listening
you just stopped caring
wrinkled in your skin
curled in your toes
yet, nicely stacked in rows
you're walking by them
gently swathing branches
but you won't take your chances
no, never take a chance
because the song is too quiet
you have to listen to hear it
but when you do
it never leaves you
because you realize it's been there all along.
yeah, it's up to you to hear the song
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 1:26 AM UTC
Her stilettos bang like gavels
toga swathing her lithe torso
she holds the scales high:
ashtray and collection plate
amalgam
blood runs down her thighs
as she uses her white cane;
a sword that keeps the secret
of how she lost her eyes.
Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 2:30 PM UTC
On the balcony I stand
and let my eyes sway
to the sandy waves,
swathing in the moonlight.
The ancient empire that was buried under
the suave sand had been witnessed by
the moon of mountain from a distant land.
The endless tract of greenlessness
under the sparkling platinum moon
is brushing with the hands of air
and making the magnificent dunes.
Mind widens as you witness its wideness
unlike the sea it presents you with quietness.
If you are seeking happiness
this rough terrain will show you,
life isn't after all that hard for you.
Aug 24, 2017
Aug 24, 2017 at 10:21 AM UTC
*hard as a feather
capture the weather
polarities are kindred souls
i long to hold you close to my *****
and assume the unassuming
is all you have need for
our hands are hourglasses
broken on the seashore
sand has spilled out like rice
justified by time
another victim of the sublime
i miss her kindred spirit
although happiness and density
weighed heavy upon my soul
i chose to wait for comfort and shallow tide to control
the outcome of this poem
is like an ancient story
where the gods are getting hungry so they eat their own
brownness
forgotten
in fields of rotten tyrants
and brooms
sweep the countryside
like fire
burning through streets
tearing down the feasts of dionysus, bacchus, and eurypides
orpheus’ daughters
sold all of their water
to the maitre d’s and hostesses
so your own emotions could rent rooms in their vacant hallways
i saw all your warnings
and yet i chose to run right through them and into your arms
accept this token of my heart
a piece of fabric torn from sober wisdom
and spun with threads of copper
it becomes a blanket
and wraps your fragile nakedness
as the corn and leaves used to do
forgetful one
please heed this
your memory is naked
respect the unexpected
your lies are being collected and written on papyrus
sirens are awakened by your cries in the wasted light of the moon
perhaps we still must make amends
say amen
and sweat
your swathing blanket
your **** angels
swear by their creator
saying: do yourself a favor and let me enter you*
Mar 4, 2017
Mar 4, 2017 at 2:37 PM UTC
(i only dream of imps)
sweaty, high-handed, they reek of brandy
although i know what they desire i bury my fists in stiff pockets
all the simple things i believe to be made up of are really technicolor and abstruse
(i only dream of this)
every night they spit viruses down my throat
bite jibes in my deepest cushiony parts
chew gold rings like stale cheerios
swathing me
in sticky mud-like paint
thin and sour
(i only dream of hell)
grafted unholiness in pits of ink
tumultuous
sore heat seething from flowery bits
greedy imp hands handling soft pillow bodies
acid breath inflating pink fleshy lungs like round dollar store balloons
(i rarely dream of clouds)
when i do they are rotting clumps of loose soil
left untended by my perverse imps
holding petals to their fever pitted cores
redressing me in noxious defamation
(i'll dream again soon)
Feb 16, 2017
Feb 16, 2017 at 4:03 PM UTC
Useless Words
Of Another Time
Tempered Mystery
Of the Eternal Flame
Her Life Within Does Dwell
This Moment Heaven
No Place Called Hell
A Planets Power Lies Within
It's Swathing Sword
It Does Now Take
No Rules Of Worlds
By Sun Are Held
True Strength Within
Is Grown Life's Bell
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 7:38 AM UTC