"swooshed" poems
the words fluttered,
swung, swept, swooshed,
bemoaned, bereaved, bedazzled,
leapt, lauded, littered,
hovered, heckled, hiccuped,
made U-turns, took deep dips,
underwent saucy somersaults,
played like notes,
acted like songs,
usurped as oaths,
humbled as prayers,
slaughtered as killers,
punctuated, presided, presumed,
abetted, adhered, attacked
while the paper endured all with love.
Sep 21, 2012
Sep 21, 2012 at 7:50 AM UTC
The mist clouded my sight
The dress I wore was white
I was lost I could tell
So, I followed the **** of the tower bell
The wind swooshed past my face
It was a mystifying maze
I was cold
All I had was the warmth of
your love
My hair was damp
You switched on the table
lamp
The branches creaked
Under my feet.
At some distance the water cascaded
The trees in front of me faded
The insects were buzzing
The paper on your nightstand were rustling
The woods whispered
The birds no longer chirped
I am still looking for peace.
Our photo frame on the mantelpiece.
You burned it down
I tripped on the frozen ground.
I knew I was losing you
I could no longer feel you.
The scratches on my elbow and knees
The frost on the leaves.
I feel like I’ve heard and seen this before
I cannot take it anymore.
These sounds are noise to my ears.
All I see are my fears.
They screamed at me monstrously
I can’t handle this cacophony.
Aug 30, 2020
Aug 30, 2020 at 2:36 PM UTC
one late afternoon,
the dark was setting in...
the veranda was inviting,
for some moments alone
where shell chimes rang and flung
noisily
with the blowing wind...
seated my self on the rocking chair,
sipping
from my big mug of hot coffee,
nibbling on some vanilla wafers...
a lone bat swung from above the roof
and swooshed through the sweetsop tree,
leaving but a few leaves
falling down the ground.
there was this strange feeling
of not being alone...
that someone was watching me.
i searched, raised my head,
looked at both sides, then
saw two brilliant, glowing *****
i
stared back...and
swam through those blue-green eyes,
now focused on my hot, hot drink...
we were eye to eye,
like, it was telling me, begging me,
"please, just run your
soft fingers slowly through my fur
i am so cold, i need some warmth,
care to share your hot drink with
me?
I need some cuddling, too..."
her round tummy told me
all that i needed to
know...
it was hard, deciding, whether or not
to have her on my lap...
but then, i heard some ringing,
i had to
answer the phone.
upon returning,
i sat back on the rocking chair
very near the table,
nothing changed,
but wait...
a few coffee drops?
almost inconspicuous,
nothing there, no one there,
just my big, wide mug, now empty...
my vanilla wafers, all gone...
no longer hungry
no longer thirsty,
the roundly, pregnant cat,
the wise and intelligent
heavy, purring creature
was nowhere in sight...
still, i felt her presence,
near, and strong,
watching me,
watching herself...
somewhere in my garden
in a hidden corner,
slowed down by her heavy tummy,
waiting,
for her kittens to be born...
Sally
Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 7:34 AM UTC
*If this isn't good,
I don't know what is.*
I thought to myself.
It was a habit I picked up
from reading too many books;
to acknowledge the good
occurrences when they occurred.
It seems they happen more often
when you pay attention.
However, don't imagine
that the scene was perfect.
We woke up
on a hardwood floor,
hungover
and sleep-deprived.
My jacket was
the pillow,
and, luckily, someone
had draped a blanket
over us.
A cat wandered
under the blanket,
and sat down on my
naked shins,
which shook us
from our slumber.
She laughed as his tail
swooshed slowly across her leg
and pulled my arm
around her.
"I never expected
to wake up next to you."
She said,
in a whimsical way
We shooed the cat out
(he was quite stubborn)
and laughed together at the
absurdity of it all.
Later, we kissed farewell
and promised to meet again.
Now, I sit in contemplation;
recalling all I can about the night.
Moments are just that --
moments.
Parsed smaller and smaller
the further you look.
I don't need to remember each
minutiae -- how many seconds
elapsed between each breath --
only how I felt at her side.
I think this is what I'm aiming to do:
to hold each reminiscence sacred.
Jul 9, 2013
Jul 9, 2013 at 6:57 PM UTC
"Man is a crushed being. Floats like logs on an empty river in a wild with no predators,
because, Man knows, a predatory wild is immoral."
no regrets.
and water once said to the wall
"Can I speak? And if I speak why do I speak this particular language? Beyond my reflective frailties and your broken back, there really isn't much to be said for the anglo-saxon remembrance of loss, now, is there?"
and the sleep in the corner of her bedroom was like a feminist strike for equal wages
there was a resentful bitterness to the way she spat her measured love.
often, she would say nothing as a means to everything,
and everything as a means to nothing,
but either way the only one listening was every one of us, so we couldn't really hear a word she was saying.
some mornings, I awoke to the curious wondering of subject versus object, and sad endings versus no endings, and you know what?
not once did an answer appear and if it did, no way was there a syllable empty enough to describe our lack of a point
so I stopped calling I, I
and started calling I, we
so we slept until 1 in the afternoon with the only shame being that of novelized continuity with its great big book on the cons of finitism we tried to return for store credit only to realize it wasn't Chapters selling, nor the writ of the holy ghost, but instead that particular angle of our face that can only be witnessed if one mirror is placed in front of another with a third to the left
and suddenly, 'I' made more sense,
what a shame?
and water once said to the wall
"all things are all things," and the wall listlessly agreed to nothing.
so we walked to the water and agreed on behalf of the wall
and the water swooshed kindly as we lay out a towel
sleep on the beach.
and the sleep in the corner of her bedroom was like a feminist strike for equal wages
there was a resentful bitterness to the way she spat her measured love
so my nervous flinch began to wonder why the real world teases with stillness, distant mountains, open roads, warm kisses, sunrises, and cold rain
when I still have to get up for work in the morning.
Dec 31, 2012
Dec 31, 2012 at 12:15 AM UTC
swooshed the wind right through me
as bleakly whispered in my ear
the unspoken muzzy words
left my stun as they steer
for now I knew something
I knew not before
as I saw the utmost ray of hope
consumed by the darkness
craving for more
such was its haste
mollifying the very urge
just like sun relieves its ray
right at its verge
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 2:13 PM UTC
On a perfect spring night,
the Moon rises high into the sky,
Illuminating the dark, night sky
The stars twinkling joyfully,
As if they were happy about something,
The cool breeze swooshed over the world,
The air filled with joy...
On A Perfect Spring Night
Mar 6, 2012
Mar 6, 2012 at 7:27 PM UTC
A masterpiece was painted
with a trunk-ed hand he held the brush
swooshed lines in black
graceful strokes, deliberately
he spoke
finishing with a flourish
This is incredible, it is true as well....god I so love animals!!
www.youtube.com/watch?v=He7Ge7Sogrk&feature;=player_embedded
Jul 22, 2012
Jul 22, 2012 at 1:02 PM UTC
I went on a walk today. My feet led me to a place past the horizon where light and darkness where at a simple harmony. They coexisted in a way I hadn’t learned to do with myself, with an ease that made me envious.
I went on a walk today and my chest felt heavy for my legs to carry. It was suspended past the dome of my ribs, inflated to a point of discomfort so I crossed my arms atop it just to hold it in place for fear it would explode at any moment. My tears fought for release and I tried to convince them it was not I holding them captive but my heart, this cave made of snow beating icicles in to my veins.
I went on a walk today and I felt neither the cold nor the warmth of the consecutive hours. It simply swooshed past me without a second glance. I watched it leave with awe wondering if my ghost status had inverted to official that even ethereal beings would not acknowledge me.
I went on a walk today and saw a flock of birds and saw one seating on the phone wire away from its group. I stared at it and felt its eyes on me, and for a moment their was an instant familiarity. That was the moment I realized loneliness was a language, only few could understand but still, a language.
Sep 1, 2018
Sep 1, 2018 at 4:57 AM UTC
The evening spotlights
Shine on the walls
Of David's ancient abbey.
Raised by Border people
And peasant Picts.
Shadows and silhouettes
Fill thresholds that once
Let light and glory in.
Foundation walls protect
Winds still whispering
In Gothic naves.
A thousand years' stories
Are sounded in her bells.
Night surrounds Jedburgh Abbey.
I strained my sight for movement
Of Augustinians who thrived
In cloisters and walled streets
For a story to bring home
Of a phantom cloak or hood
Disappearing on ramparts
Or passing an empty window.
Just a sound, or simple wail
Would do.
Just then, dark legs
Swooshed past me,
Fitted in knee-high boots.
I lost my thoughts
Of ghosts and sprites
With an astral figure in tights.
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 9:25 AM UTC
It’s been two months and you are still giving me things.
This time I inherited your long tan coat.
The one you wore along with a plastic bag on your head
when it was raining.
The one that swooshed when your arms swung back and forth
while the long belt would drag
along the ground on one side.
The one nobody wanted.
I slid my arms into the sleeves
and felt the sleek fabric hug my skin,
unlike the way it hung
from your frail shoulder blades.
I slowly
reached my hands further
and further
into the deep pockets,
dreading that I’d find leftover food wrapped up in napkins-
and cried when it wasn’t there.
Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 6:26 PM UTC
Vacant Streets
Barren homes
Concrete rubble scratching beneath my feet
Am I all alone?
Towering viridescent leaved Giants
On the other side of the road
Wind swiftly whispering hollow secrets
Into the grove.
I intently observe the grooved bark of a tree
What species is it?
I don't know, but I would like to know
My eyes scrupulously make their way up to the reaching branches at the very top
Next to this tree I observe is a tree stump
It doesn't look like it was cut with precision, it looked like a flash of unpredictable lightning chopped it right in half
Incapacitating it to no longer grow, ragged shards of raw inner wood
Now blackened with death.
The difference between the stump and the outreaching tree was one proliferated while the other did not due to death.
I felt my heart in my chest and arteries transporting blood to a part of my mind neglected and depressed
As the realization swooshed and then swelled into my heart,
that these conditions of my mind and circumstances were not forever
But temporary lessons
Yes, that's all these bad things are,
Temporary lessons
A tree can be cut but if not cut through all the way to cause death, it will grow around that cut, and everything else about it will eventually become bigger than those few times it experiences pain
The key to all of this was to move forward, grow
With limbs outstretched to the sky.
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 8:53 PM UTC
It's amazing to think
that just two years ago, today
I looked at you
straight in your dark mysterious eyes
and told you I loved you.
With your hair in your face,
you swooshed it out of the way.
You pulled me close.
chest to chest
and whispered
"I love you more"
It's sad to think,
some time last year
was the last
"I love you more"
I heard come out
your lips.
It's the worst feeling to know,
that we just got off the phone
after studying for a test
and you left to go talk to her.
My best friend.
You left me
to talk to my "best friend"
She asked you to leave me, just now.
And you did.
She asked you to leave me, some time last year.
And you did.
Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 1:03 AM UTC
Her eyes were laced,
Laced with pure gold,
Shimmering in the moonlight rays,
So elegantly beauteous in the night,
Her smile shined,
Shined brighter than all the stars in the sky above,
Seeming so real,
Yet it was painted on by an angel,
An angel who wished to hide the demons,
The demons within her,
Her voice hints of mischievous,
Of uncertainty and of mystery,
So soft,
Yet so cracked,
Her thoughts blackened of smoke,
Smoke that poisoned her every waking thought,
Smoke that was so lethal,
So suffocating,
She couldn't take a breath,
Yet those demons,
And those angels,
Hide in the darkness beneath,
Her eyelashes were lengthy,
They blinked in the rhythm of her,
They fluttered as she blinked at me,
As the daylight swooshed in,
The light of honesty showed,
Her eyes no longer laced with gold,
Now they were purely dark,
Purely dull, no shimmer to be seen,
Her smile had washed away,
Her cracked frown now prominent,
Prominent on her exhausted face,
Her voice was full of anxiety,
Hoarse from the fight she's giving,
Soft, yet dark,
Her thoughts were as silent as she,
As silent as she wished to be,
For the pain overtook her,
Held her entire life hostage,
Her mind was the prison,
And she was the inmate,
Paying for the guilt she lived in,
Every second of every day,
Costing her the privilege,
The privilege of happiness,
And so,
In the moonlight,
Try and look harder,
For you may see the pain.
Sep 2, 2018
Sep 2, 2018 at 12:50 AM UTC
A song in the background
Happy smiles on our faces
None making a sound
The car travelled so many places
It happens so quickly
In the blink an eye
You don't even feel sickly
Until you lose th high
The hood had snapped
And made a whoosh
The windshield cracked
I'd been swooshed
We were not hurt
And I said my praise
My mind is on alert
It put me in a craze
Jun 18, 2016
Jun 18, 2016 at 10:49 PM UTC
nothing can keep me occupied
im bored of all i love
his eyes are light somewhere deep down
and off the edge im shoved.
restless im pacing round the room
no corner to escape
dont want to sit, no strength to stand
and fainting comes so soon
the noose inside my chest is spiked
and off my feet im swooshed
no turning back, no drinking less
as off the brink im pushed.
Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 2:57 PM UTC
In the gallery of my heart
hangs a lone naked lamp
that sputters and swings and smokes sooty
as if buffeted by unseen draughts
and it casts shadows distorting
upon its mirrored walls.
If you were to enter ever,
If I were to let you in,
or if you stole in like a thief
when I was weak for a blink
you'd be stunned-bored-
intrigued-saddened by what
a little boy picked up on his lonely road.
Tiny shiny marbles chipped and split
-And bits of toffee wrappers
-Collages of smiles from sepia-toned faces,
derisive guffaws, frowns and sneers
-And gently billowing tapestries woven
from strands of happy memories
-Magic carpets that swooshed crazily
over fantastic surreal realms
where people wore nothing but
their emotions and desires
-And books, yes, books of all variety
little ones, big ones and yettobeopened ones
-And clocks and watches that kept
their time to strange metronomes.
- And in a dark corner, a trashcan
of dashed hopes and stillborn dreams.
You'd hear my mother call my name,
and bits of truncated babble,
you'd hear flutes as if from afar
and streams gurgle
and birdsong and sighs of longing
If only you'd listen,
you'd hear the calf call out to his mother
eager to **** at her udder
and of course the music of the night rain
ravishing the Earth.
I warn you.
You'd be bewildered
by the swing of the lamp
You'd lose your way
among the swinging shadows
not knowing for sure
If you were for real yourself
or just a mere shadow;
If you were a figment of my imagination
or I yours.
If molten clocks and midnight roosters
don't scare you,
If unspoken guilt and silly peccadilloes
don't haunt you,
maybe you'll survive
my chamber of mirrors.
And if you think even for a moment
that you saw in the mirrors
a thousand grinning camels,
Well then, you're surely my friend.
You can walk in any time again
and explore my gallery
without permission.
Dec 13, 2021
Dec 13, 2021 at 9:13 AM UTC
Upon the blowing wind
lives my Autumn dreams.
With a delightful glee
my soul took flight
as the breeze stole
my heart.
The whispering pines
swooshed and bowed,
the dirt grew into
a foggy cloud, as
Autumn changed her
gown.
Greens turned brown,
purple, and deep red
as the leafs shimmied
to the chilled ground.
The shadows slowly lengthened
as the night creeped,
crawling beside the sun
before saying farewell
to his brother he kissed
the sky with his full moon smile.
The stars winked
and the sun swooned
as the moon stole the
hour.
© 2019 By Amanda Shelton
Oct 31, 2019
Oct 31, 2019 at 12:33 AM UTC
The stars that fell ,
from dizzy heights,
tallest of tall,
found themselves there thanks to
giants who had blasted rock, to create that highway.
Those riding on the
hem of their cloak,
earned not by their own merits,
judge those desperately holding unto
true nobility.
On that day
fake luminaires get
swooshed away,
it's impossible to reach that vault
without salt,
you cannot cry or whine ' not my fault'
you had access to Heaven
Sophia spoke enough is enough
you blamed on the weather.
Feb 19, 2022
Feb 19, 2022 at 2:24 AM UTC