"sweeped" poems
Here I stand on the intersection
Blocking every apparition
That appears before the collision
Of my unearthed passion
The debris it scattered
And the fragments it recollected
Did no good for our Russian Roulette
And my black dress that sweeped
Aiming blade to each direction
And shadow-chasing apparitions
Here I stand, on the intersection
With the devil’s spawn in front
The sinner angel on my left
The lost brothers of long-ago arts
And the mourning ladies behind in red
If I let my blade slip in front
Inferno is the runaway paradise prepared
Yet if I let my blade to my sides
Heaven hold no place for my stained black dress
And the mourning ladies in red
Have no colors that resembles mine
But that is just an extermination
That won’t even matter
For tragic is just a trapped magic
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 10:31 AM UTC
We plyed our oars as we sweeped across the surf,
our ships skimming the water with ease,
we seized towns, plundered fishing ports, sacked cities,
we worshipped the great Odin, in his hall in Asgard,
All for what?
We did this, so we might go to Valhalla, the last revelry.
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 10:25 PM UTC
days are swinging past
and I wish I could finally
say to you the words
hiding under my pillows,
behind doors, and
scattered on the floors
I am walking on
I wish I could say to you
that my knees aren't
the only parts of
my body that
are hurting
that sometimes when
I sit in class I sometimes
stop and stare
and my throat starts to
constrict while my
tear ducts plan
their mutiny
I wish I could tell you
that I still remember
the sound of breaking
glass and I still
imagine the moment
of the glass kissing
the ground and, yes,
I still remember
how the shards
sparkled as I sweeped
the floors
I wish I could find a
better way of saying
these words to you
just like how perfectly
arranged the bones in
my body are
I wish I could say to
you that I fantasize
about telling you these
words that are
years overdue
and, no, I am not
okay, and, no,
you're wrong when
you said that I don't
care because I do
I just don't know
how to show it
and I also know
that maybe I'm
not making sense
because the real words
have morphed
themselves into
metaphors for having
been suppressed
for so long
and maybe I'm not
making any sense at all
but
the
bottomline
of this mess
is that I want
to say that I'm
sorry I wasn't
stronger for
you and me
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 11:49 AM UTC
Juice freshly squeezed
From poisoned apples I sip
Happiness as I knew it
Has seized to exist
Without you I can't sleep
I've tried and tried
But all night
Your smile keeps me counting sheep
Days pass but it only gets tougher
To live is to suffer
To love is suicide
Inside my mind memories I hide
I reminisce your presence
My now's no longer a present
My face craves your touch
Since you
That good
It's never felt as such
My cheeks miss your lips
Withdrawn from your magic
My mind flips
A love story gone tragic
Before it even started
My heart ripped
Into pieces
When we parted
Away those pieces are sweeped
In the trash they are heaped
Jesus!
These thoughts make me weep
On a slope so steep
I'm hanging off the tip
Trying to get a grip
Acquainted with grief
Searching for peace
Watching water drip
Off the surface of a leaf
Observing people breathe
And trees swayed by the breeze
Playing the same old songs on repeat
I'm looking for some kind of relief
Apart from diving in for a swim
In a pool of liquor that's cheap
Aware you hear me not when I speak
And this poem you might never read
But know I know no bliss
Though I see the lamp in the tunnel lit
The one placed at the end of it
My dear, you are greatly missed
From within my soul deep
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 6:39 PM UTC
A poor room homed me in the childhood
With cold stone walls and a leaky stove;
Some days were spent under cover
With a hoody, a hat and pair of glove.
Nathless, there was no poverty of food;
My mother managed well the stew
With rice, potatoes and some carrots,
Her care cook'd a lot out of few.
Beside, the careless neighbours stood
With a lil bowl of sugar and eggs,
Trading on a sip of juice for gossips,
Paying the fee of the one who begs.
Way-outie, we were never even gloomy;
Despite the days of water and light off,
Mother managed the waves of hardship
Like the sailor's star never falling off.
Is a grace of God, the unfortunate broom
In which I scarce tasted thick happiness?
Sugar tastes sour after golden honey;
For rich, my treasure was unhappiness.
I enjoyed the oxford blue sky of the moon
While mom sweeped the streets for stubs,
I jumped up moon-high finding pennies
Far away the parties' hubhubs.
What a pity I feel now, for all the poor
Who had money, goods and no misery;
They know nothing what is life like,
But for true rich, life itself is glittery.
Oct 5, 2019
Oct 5, 2019 at 2:37 AM UTC
The breeze sweeped my face
The buzzing of.childrens muddled language
The roses smiles could even make the slightest of noise
The holding of eschothers hands vibrated the rustling of life
Conversion of the normal
The disconnection of the seasons sweepings
The grounds blanketing leaves
The ducks spoke in a friendly tone
We must need nothing else
The grandparents of old school disinclined and teachings echoed just enough for me too hear
We just need to listen
And we will learn all we need in the world
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 7:24 AM UTC
i got caught up in a riptide today
the ocean is normally my friend
but today
i was sweeped under
forced to roll with the waves
and be dragged
i couldnt breathe
or come up for air
i struggled against the water
and when the ocean finally stood still
i had to fight to get to the surface
it felt like the longest descent
i didn't know if i would make it
but then again i didn't have time to think
my face broke the surface
and i gulped in the air
gasping and scared
i kept breathing
til the next wave came
so is life
it's scary
we don't know if we can come back up for air
and right when we seem okay
another wave comes.
but we have to keep swimming
keep fighting
keep struggling
to stay alive.
it's hard but it's so worth it.
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 4:11 PM UTC
Along a tenacious cliffside,
Peers a lone sailor.
Spectacting the silent war,
The unyielding assault of waves.
Patches of grass, green with hope,
Litter the gritty sand.
Each shell sweeped upon the shore,
Entrance the young man with glee.
For he studies the horizon,
Searching for whom he's found.
A half scaled belle,
Of which he's called his own.
She swims the calloused tides,
In search of his arms called home.
Upon the beach she lay,
Covered in the sea's salty foam.
The sailor found her,
As the sand blends between his feet.
Next to her he rests,
Next to her he is complete.
The maiden turns to him,
"Jimmy Gray" she whispers.
The sailor replys inquisitively.
"I love you"
~
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 8:28 PM UTC
I am but a rose thrown at a scorned lover,
Left heartbroken in the middle of the street,
It's petals falling and stem breaking
And it's beautiful colour fading.
My petals can never be restored,
Most have been lost,
Carried by the whispers of the wind,
Like peace,
I know that I will never be able to experience such a feeling again
I have been;
Stepped on,
Spit on,
Sweeped to the side,
And picked up
But I know that;
Those who step on me, get the sharp pain of my thornes
Those who spit on me, have an internal envy of my beauty,
Those who sweep me, the wind carries me back to the same place,
And those who try to reconstruct me, fulfil themselves with an impossible task, but I know those are my true friends, my greatest treasure, and my brightest hope.
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 2:08 AM UTC
And the world really did stop.
Haulted at its hinges by an indescribable force.
It steamed and chimed like a machine.
Attempting to break from it's shackles.
Attempting to breathe.
Trying to continue being.
It did not work.
The world was frozen in its feeble grace.
And the world really did stop.
Children turn to men when he went.
Often they viaied for his affection.
Beging for praise from him.
As would to their father.
We worshipped his every move.
Praise his inhuman brillance.
He was a picture of perfect.
And the world really did stop.
Life went on without moving forward.
I could only look behind me now.
Knowing the world won't ever be the same.
Others tried to fill his shoes.
Yet only managed to prove his perfection.
I was there once.
In the midst of my imperfections disgusting nature.
And the world really did stop.
I struggled.
Tosing and turning.
Trying to forget.
And remembering even more.
You face filled my head.
I wished I was dead.
Then kept it quiet.
And the world really did stop.
My mind find solace in another pain.
Trying my hardest to refute the truth.
I spent my days inside my own mind.
Trying to find reason.
In the silliest rhyme.
I'm losing sleep and time.
Contemplating a self destructive crime.
And the world really did stop.
Instead of tenderness for other.
I began to care only for myself.
I hid in the safety of my horrid head.
Escaping existance but not acknowledging it.
I begun to believe in fallacies.
Keeping them inside my heart.
Loving lies in order to avoid cries.
And the world really did stop.
Sweetly in the night it paused.
His boiling blood turned cold.
An arch angel was stolen.
Sweeped into an eternal night.
I live now in an infintie freight.
I do not deserve to cry.
He did not deserve to die.
Jun 7, 2020
Jun 7, 2020 at 12:22 PM UTC
I can see the black clouds
Forming over me,
The day getting darker,
Darker than the sea.
The birds flutter,
Flutter in a flock
Scared of something coming up,
Coming up soon to stalk.
The frown of heaven,
Roaring like a pard
The glow of lightening
Flickering in the dark.
The end is coming near,
Our hearts dwelled up with fear
We hope to wake up next day
Not seeing our loved ones asleep.
I hope to wake up next day,
Without my thoughts getting sweeped,
Forgetting everything,
Everything in my sleep.
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 8:02 AM UTC
Aesthetic winds gush towards me trying to feel my chaotic mind
Marooned in a bohemian garden, in a paradise of timely blossoms
Lit by the bright winter sun and sweeped by an aromatic strangeness
I ponder about the hundred memories of once upon a love...
Playing hide and seek amidst the crevices of my soul
The manifold petals seem to narrate stories of my own past,
The many likes of which had already detached themselves from the leafy branches
And have made the ground their home.
Looking back it seemed time never gave me a chance to get close to him
Like distant blossoms my love bloomed,spread it's fragrance and losing hope finally dissolved into the ever consuming soil...
How sad it is that my love remained nothing more than a series of fleeting memories!
Perhaps the blossoms and my heart, being of one origin took to the same path of transiency
With the seasons it rolled and changed colours...
With time it wrinkled and faded...
This lonely winter day
I hereby revisit the fragments of my yesterday...
Perched like a bird, high atop a lonely branch of a blossom watered by a thousand deep reaching roots of tugging memories!
Dec 17, 2020
Dec 17, 2020 at 11:16 AM UTC
My heart feels like empty glass.
I'm surrounded by so many full glass cups and still my glass remains empty.
Like am I not good enough to drink out of? Can I not quench the thirst or love from others?
I cry out for water, to atleast feel full inside but still my cries go unheard.
I could break any second and everyone's only concern would be that I will become a bother as I shatter on the ground, not that I have been broken....
I won't be missed, just swept up, sweeped away and replaced...
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 1:44 AM UTC
First couple days back from the hospital
And already I am hostile
I see razors and want to bleed out
I see rope and want to hang
This is probably going to be a bad thing
I see socks that make good chokers when knotted together
I see paint that makes good poison when drunk
I've lost my innocence
I've found the ugly side of life
I used to see things as mere objects, not weapons
Staples, used to be just a utility for a stapler
Glass used to be something you sweeped away
Detergent used to be a laundry item
And knives used to be eating utensils
All I see now is suicide
I dream about slitting my wrist open
Watching the red spill from my arm
Smiling as I bleed to death
Sweet serenity
I've been writing notes
One to my friend
One to my brother
One to my teacher
And one to a ex-lover
I've become what I once thought improbable
I've become suicidal
Mar 2, 2020
Mar 2, 2020 at 5:44 PM UTC
Dark and clumsy weather
Haunts nearly everyday
Am reading through predictions
As few people gather to pray
The elders discuss of the end
Which sound scary and frightful
Nothing would be left intact
As all will be engulfed in a mouthful
Either the earth will part to swallow
Or the giant waves would leach
The winds might develop a mighty tornado
And ****** all lives within its reach
Day by day the ozone depletes
The earth furiously wears away
Blind are the two-legged monsters
Paid to work without a say
Maybe the wise speak the truth
That, of the coming destruction
Everything will be perish and sweeped off
For maybe a new construction!
©sim
Jun 24, 2017
Jun 24, 2017 at 6:15 AM UTC
I did laundry and sweeped floors
then reorganised all cupboards.
Forks, plates, glasses - one big sheen,
because my mind I can't clean.
Sep 5, 2019
Sep 5, 2019 at 2:59 PM UTC