Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Third Eye Candy Oct 2014
I've swum these waters
and the waves know my butterfly- stroke
but not my cocoon.
i've stretched as far over -
a crashing wave,
as may a Starling, over a worm
in a lipid pool
of an unagitated eye.
where an apple
might .

and that is all.

and all is
like.
Arlo Disarray Feb 2015
I know that you think I'm just mediocre
But I'd hoped I could be the Batman to your Joker
You've broken me down to make me feel like mud
Stained my life's skin when you spilled all its blood

I've sat by the clock of this world as it ticks
Simply waiting and fading as you make me sick
And I know I'm no hero, but I can pretend
I've nothing to offer but words from my pen

So why do I bother? I know I won't win
I don't have a clue where I'd even begin
So I just cut my spine out and gave it to you
When you planted it in the ground, what kind of plant grew?
I hope that you got to see something brand new
Something so strange, did your mind go askew?

It's fine if you think that I'm nothing but dirt
Your pathetic attempts to be cruel do not hurt
I'm stronger than coal that's been crushed into diamonds
I'm larger than mountains, there's no need to climb them

I've caught all the stars and I've swallowed the moon
I've danced with the sun and flown with stray balloons
I've cried tears of seas and I've swum with the sharks
Collecting the lights of life, creating the dark
A goldfish by the name of Sam
swum and swum and then he swam
and then he ran out of the sea,
learnt to walk like you and me.
Then he got into bad ways and as we know bad ways don't pay.
The day Sam turned into a man,he no longer swum,no longer swam
he learnt to run and how he ran,
but now he wishes that he could swim or swum or swam and
ain't that just the way of man.
By this, sad Hero, with love unacquainted,
Viewing Leander’s face, fell down and fainted.
He kissed her and breathed life into her lips,
Wherewith as one displeased away she trips.
Yet, as she went, full often looked behind,
And many poor excuses did she find
To linger by the way, and once she stayed,
And would have turned again, but was afraid,
In offering parley, to be counted light.
So on she goes and in her idle flight
Her painted fan of curled plumes let fall,
Thinking to train Leander therewithal.
He, being a novice, knew not what she meant
But stayed, and after her a letter sent,
Which joyful Hero answered in such sort,
As he had hope to scale the beauteous fort
Wherein the liberal Graces locked their wealth,
And therefore to her tower he got by stealth.
Wide open stood the door, he need not climb,
And she herself before the pointed time
Had spread the board, with roses strowed the room,
And oft looked out, and mused he did not come.
At last he came.

O who can tell the greeting
These greedy lovers had at their first meeting.
He asked, she gave, and nothing was denied.
Both to each other quickly were affied.
Look how their hands, so were their hearts united,
And what he did she willingly requited.
(Sweet are the kisses, the embracements sweet,
When like desires and affections meet,
For from the earth to heaven is Cupid raised,
Where fancy is in equal balance peised.)
Yet she this rashness suddenly repented
And turned aside, and to herself lamented
As if her name and honour had been wronged
By being possessed of him for whom she longed.
Ay, and she wished, albeit not from her heart
That he would leave her turret and depart.
The mirthful god of amorous pleasure smiled
To see how he this captive nymph beguiled.
For hitherto he did but fan the fire,
And kept it down that it might mount the higher.
Now waxed she jealous lest his love abated,
Fearing her own thoughts made her to be hated.
Therefore unto him hastily she goes
And, like light Salmacis, her body throws
Upon his ***** where with yielding eyes
She offers up herself a sacrifice
To slake his anger if he were displeased.
O, what god would not therewith be appeased?
Like Aesop’s **** this jewel he enjoyed
And as a brother with his sister toyed
Supposing nothing else was to be done,
Now he her favour and good will had won.
But know you not that creatures wanting sense
By nature have a mutual appetence,
And, wanting organs to advance a step,
Moved by love’s force unto each other lep?
Much more in subjects having intellect
Some hidden influence breeds like effect.
Albeit Leander rude in love and raw,
Long dallying with Hero, nothing saw
That might delight him more, yet he suspected
Some amorous rites or other were neglected.
Therefore unto his body hers he clung.
She, fearing on the rushes to be flung,
Strived with redoubled strength; the more she strived
The more a gentle pleasing heat revived,
Which taught him all that elder lovers know.
And now the same gan so to scorch and glow
As in plain terms (yet cunningly) he craved it.
Love always makes those eloquent that have it.
She, with a kind of granting, put him by it
And ever, as he thought himself most nigh it,
Like to the tree of Tantalus, she fled
And, seeming lavish, saved her maidenhead.
Ne’er king more sought to keep his diadem,
Than Hero this inestimable gem.
Above our life we love a steadfast friend,
Yet when a token of great worth we send,
We often kiss it, often look thereon,
And stay the messenger that would be gone.
No marvel then, though Hero would not yield
So soon to part from that she dearly held.
Jewels being lost are found again, this never;
’Tis lost but once, and once lost, lost forever.

Now had the morn espied her lover’s steeds,
Whereat she starts, puts on her purple weeds,
And red for anger that he stayed so long
All headlong throws herself the clouds among.
And now Leander, fearing to be missed,
Embraced her suddenly, took leave, and kissed.
Long was he taking leave, and loath to go,
And kissed again as lovers use to do.
Sad Hero wrung him by the hand and wept
Saying, “Let your vows and promises be kept.”
Then standing at the door she turned about
As loath to see Leander going out.
And now the sun that through th’ horizon peeps,
As pitying these lovers, downward creeps,
So that in silence of the cloudy night,
Though it was morning, did he take his flight.
But what the secret trusty night concealed
Leander’s amorous habit soon revealed.
With Cupid’s myrtle was his bonnet crowned,
About his arms the purple riband wound
Wherewith she wreathed her largely spreading hair.
Nor could the youth abstain, but he must wear
The sacred ring wherewith she was endowed
When first religious chastity she vowed.
Which made his love through Sestos to be known,
And thence unto Abydos sooner blown
Than he could sail; for incorporeal fame
Whose weight consists in nothing but her name,
Is swifter than the wind, whose tardy plumes
Are reeking water and dull earthly fumes.
Home when he came, he seemed not to be there,
But, like exiled air ****** from his sphere,
Set in a foreign place; and straight from thence,
Alcides like, by mighty violence
He would have chased away the swelling main
That him from her unjustly did detain.
Like as the sun in a diameter
Fires and inflames objects removed far,
And heateth kindly, shining laterally,
So beauty sweetly quickens when ’tis nigh,
But being separated and removed,
Burns where it cherished, murders where it loved.
Therefore even as an index to a book,
So to his mind was young Leander’s look.
O, none but gods have power their love to hide,
Affection by the countenance is descried.
The light of hidden fire itself discovers,
And love that is concealed betrays poor lovers,
His secret flame apparently was seen.
Leander’s father knew where he had been
And for the same mildly rebuked his son,
Thinking to quench the sparkles new begun.
But love resisted once grows passionate,
And nothing more than counsel lovers hate.
For as a hot proud horse highly disdains
To have his head controlled, but breaks the reins,
Spits forth the ringled bit, and with his hooves
Checks the submissive ground; so he that loves,
The more he is restrained, the worse he fares.
What is it now, but mad Leander dares?
“O Hero, Hero!” thus he cried full oft;
And then he got him to a rock aloft,
Where having spied her tower, long stared he on’t,
And prayed the narrow toiling Hellespont
To part in twain, that he might come and go;
But still the rising billows answered, “No.”
With that he stripped him to the ivory skin
And, crying “Love, I come,” leaped lively in.
Whereat the sapphire visaged god grew proud,
And made his capering Triton sound aloud,
Imagining that Ganymede, displeased,
Had left the heavens; therefore on him he seized.
Leander strived; the waves about him wound,
And pulled him to the bottom, where the ground
Was strewed with pearl, and in low coral groves
Sweet singing mermaids sported with their loves
On heaps of heavy gold, and took great pleasure
To spurn in careless sort the shipwrack treasure.
For here the stately azure palace stood
Where kingly Neptune and his train abode.
The ***** god embraced him, called him “Love,”
And swore he never should return to Jove.
But when he knew it was not Ganymede,
For under water he was almost dead,
He heaved him up and, looking on his face,
Beat down the bold waves with his triple mace,
Which mounted up, intending to have kissed him,
And fell in drops like tears because they missed him.
Leander, being up, began to swim
And, looking back, saw Neptune follow him,
Whereat aghast, the poor soul ‘gan to cry
“O, let me visit Hero ere I die!”
The god put Helle’s bracelet on his arm,
And swore the sea should never do him harm.
He clapped his plump cheeks, with his tresses played
And, smiling wantonly, his love bewrayed.
He watched his arms and, as they opened wide
At every stroke, betwixt them would he slide
And steal a kiss, and then run out and dance,
And, as he turned, cast many a lustful glance,
And threw him gaudy toys to please his eye,
And dive into the water, and there pry
Upon his breast, his thighs, and every limb,
And up again, and close beside him swim,
And talk of love.

Leander made reply,
“You are deceived; I am no woman, I.”
Thereat smiled Neptune, and then told a tale,
How that a shepherd, sitting in a vale,
Played with a boy so fair and kind,
As for his love both earth and heaven pined;
That of the cooling river durst not drink,
Lest water nymphs should pull him from the brink.
And when he sported in the fragrant lawns,
Goat footed satyrs and upstaring fauns
Would steal him thence. Ere half this tale was done,
“Ay me,” Leander cried, “th’ enamoured sun
That now should shine on Thetis’ glassy bower,
Descends upon my radiant Hero’s tower.
O, that these tardy arms of mine were wings!”
And, as he spake, upon the waves he springs.
Neptune was angry that he gave no ear,
And in his heart revenging malice bare.
He flung at him his mace but, as it went,
He called it in, for love made him repent.
The mace, returning back, his own hand hit
As meaning to be venged for darting it.
When this fresh bleeding wound Leander viewed,
His colour went and came, as if he rued
The grief which Neptune felt. In gentle *******
Relenting thoughts, remorse, and pity rests.
And who have hard hearts and obdurate minds,
But vicious, harebrained, and illiterate hinds?
The god, seeing him with pity to be moved,
Thereon concluded that he was beloved.
(Love is too full of faith, too credulous,
With folly and false hope deluding us.)
Wherefore, Leander’s fancy to surprise,
To the rich Ocean for gifts he flies.
’tis wisdom to give much; a gift prevails
When deep persuading oratory fails.

By this Leander, being near the land,
Cast down his weary feet and felt the sand.
Breathless albeit he were he rested not
Till to the solitary tower he got,
And knocked and called. At which celestial noise
The longing heart of Hero much more joys
Than nymphs and shepherds when the timbrel rings,
Or crooked dolphin when the sailor sings.
She stayed not for her robes but straight arose
And, drunk with gladness, to the door she goes,
Where seeing a naked man, she screeched for fear
(Such sights as this to tender maids are rare)
And ran into the dark herself to hide.
(Rich jewels in the dark are soonest spied).
Unto her was he led, or rather drawn
By those white limbs which sparkled through the lawn.
The nearer that he came, the more she fled,
And, seeking refuge, slipped into her bed.
Whereon Leander sitting thus began,
Through numbing cold, all feeble, faint, and wan.
“If not for love, yet, love, for pity sake,
Me in thy bed and maiden ***** take.
At least vouchsafe these arms some little room,
Who, hoping to embrace thee, cheerly swum.
This head was beat with many a churlish billow,
And therefore let it rest upon thy pillow.”
Herewith affrighted, Hero shrunk away,
And in her lukewarm place Leander lay,
Whose lively heat, like fire from heaven fet,
Would animate gross clay and higher set
The drooping thoughts of base declining souls
Than dreary Mars carousing nectar bowls.
His hands he cast upon her like a snare.
She, overcome with shame and sallow fear,
Like chaste Diana when Actaeon spied her,
Being suddenly betrayed, dived down to hide her.
And, as her silver body downward went,
With both her hands she made the bed a tent,
And in her own mind thought herself secure,
O’ercast with dim and darksome coverture.
And now she lets him whisper in her ear,
Flatter, entreat, promise, protest and swear;
Yet ever, as he greedily assayed
To touch those dainties, she the harpy played,
And every limb did, as a soldier stout,
Defend the fort, and keep the foeman out.
For though the rising ivory mount he scaled,
Which is with azure circling lines empaled,
Much like a globe (a globe may I term this,
By which love sails to regions full of bliss)
Yet there with Sisyphus he toiled in vain,
Till gentle parley did the truce obtain.
Wherein Leander on her quivering breast
Breathless spoke something, and sighed out the rest;
Which so prevailed, as he with small ado
Enclosed her in his arms and kissed her too.
And every kiss to her was as a charm,
And to Leander as a fresh alarm,
So that the truce was broke and she, alas,
(Poor silly maiden) at his mercy was.
Love is not full of pity (as men say)
But deaf and cruel where he means to prey.
Even as a bird, which in our hands we wring,
Forth plungeth and oft flutters with her wing,
She trembling strove.

This strife of hers (like that
Which made the world) another world begat
Of unknown joy. Treason was in her thought,
And cunningly to yield herself she sought.
Seeming not won, yet won she was at length.
In such wars women use but half their strength.
Leander now, like Theban Hercules,
Entered the orchard of th’ Hesperides;
Whose fruit none rightly can describe but he
That pulls or shakes it from the golden tree.
And now she wished this night were never done,
And sighed to think upon th’ approaching sun;
For much it grieved her that the bright daylight
Should know the pleasure of this blessed night,
And them, like Mars and Erycine, display
Both in each other’s arms chained as they lay.
Again, she knew not how to frame her look,
Or speak to him, who in a moment took
That which so long so charily she kept,
And fain by stealth away she would have crept,
And to some corner secretly have gone,
Leaving Leander in the bed alone.
But as her naked feet were whipping out,
He on the sudden clinged her so about,
That, mermaid-like, unto the floor she slid.
One half appeared, the other half was hid.
Thus near the bed she blushing stood upright,
And from her countenance behold ye might
A kind of twilight break, which through the hair,
As from an orient cloud, glimpsed here and there,
And round about the chamber this false morn
Brought forth the day before the day was born.
So Hero’s ruddy cheek Hero betrayed,
And her all naked to his sight displayed,
Whence his admiring eyes more pleasure took
Than Dis, on heaps of gold fixing his look.
By this, Apollo’s golden harp began
To sound forth music to the ocean,
Which watchful Hesperus no sooner heard
But he the bright day-bearing car prepared
And ran before, as harbinger of light,
And with his flaring beams mocked ugly night,
Till she, o’ercome with anguish, shame, and rage,
Danged down to hell her loathsome carriage.
Budging the sluggard ripples of the Somme,
A barge round old Cérisy slowly slewed.
Softly her engines down the current *******,
And chuckled softly with contented hum,
Till fairy tinklings struck their croonings dumb.
The waters rumpling at the stern subdued;
The lock-gate took her bulging amplitude;
Gently from out the gurgling lock she swum.

One reading by that calm bank shaded eyes
To watch her lessening westward quietly.
Then, as she neared the bend, her funnel screamed.
And that long lamentation made him wise
How unto Avalon, in agony,
Kings passed in the dark barge, which Merlin dreamed.
Lemon Nov 2019
so swum,
and my throats lump,
makes me feel so done,
i swim,
and i drown,
let me turn my words
inside-out.
Ah, Coventry, thou art but dead now-to me;
Thy life is not alive, and thy winds are too cold
Thou art as filthy as dust can be, and eyes might see;
Thy hearts are too bold, and to greed-your soul hath been sold.
And I want not, to be pictured by thy odd art;
For than oddness itself, 'tis even paler, and more odd;
And 'tis not honest, and full of disputing fragments;
Gratuitous in its earnest, talkative in each of its sort.
Ah, Coventry, I shall go, and catch up-with the strings of my story,
Which thou hath destroyed for the sake of thy fake harmony;
And in my tears lie thy most fragrant joys, and delightful sleep,
Which thou findeth tantalising, but idyllic-and satisfactory.
Ah, Coventry, go away-from my sight, as I solve my misery;
T'is misery thou hath assigned to, and dissolved over me,
I bid thee now fluently blow away from my face;
With a spitefulness so rare, and not to anyone's care nor taste;
And doth not thou question me, no more, about my tasks-or simply, my serenity;
For thou hath fooled me, and testified not-to my littlest serendipity,
You who claimed then, to be one of my dearest friends;
And now whom I detest-cannot believe I trusted thee back then.
And my soul! My soul-hath been a tangled ball-in thy feeble hands;
Colourless like a stultified falsehood, blundering like a normal fiend.

For on thy stilted dreadfulness at night, I hath stepped;
For in front of thy heterogeneous eves, I hath bluntly slept.
I had tasted thy water, and still my tongue is not satisfied;
I had swum in thy pages, but still my blood is not glorified.
Among thy boughs-then I dared, to solidify my fingers;
But still I couldst not bring thee alive, nor comprehend thy winters.
Instead I was left teased, and as confused as I had used to be;
I couldst find not peace, nor any saluted vehemence, in thee.
Ah, I am exhausted; I am brilliantly, and sufficiently, exhausted!
I am like torture itself-and if I was a plant, I wouldst have no bough,
For my branches wouldst be sore and demented,
For my foliage wouldst be tentative and rough.
I hath been ratified only by thy rage and dishonour;
I hath been flirted only, with thy rude hours.
And my poems thou hath insolently rejected,
And my honest lies thou hath instantaneously abused.
Thou consoled me not, and instead went furtive by my wishes;
Thou returned not my casual affection, and crushed my hope for sincere kisses.
I hath solemnly ratified thee, and praised thy music by my ears,
Yet still I twitch-as my sober heart then grows filled with tears.
Ah, thou hath betrayed, betrayed me!
Thy grief is even enhanced now-look at the way thou glareth by my knee!
O, Coventry, how couldst thou betray me-just whenst my time shivered and stopped in thine,
Thou defiled me so firmly; and disgraced the ****** poetry bitterly in thy mind,
As though it wouldst be the sole nightmare thou couldst 'ver find!
Ah, Coventry! Thou art cruel, cruel, and forever cruel!
Thou hath disliked me-like I am a whole scoundrel;
Whenst I but wanted to show thee t'at my poetry was safe, and kept no fever at all;
But no other than an endorsement of thy merriment, and funny disguises for thy reposes.
Ah, how couldst be thou be so remorseful-how couldst thou cheat me, and pray fervently-for my fall!
And to thee, only greed is true-and its satisfaction is thy due virtue,
For in my subsequent poetry, still thou shalt turn away-and scorn me once more;
With menace and retorts simply too immune, and perhaps irksome loath-like never before.

Ah, but how far shall thy distaste for me ever go?
Thou who hath blurred me-'fore even seeing my dawn,
'Fore even lurching forward, to merely glance at my town.
Thou art but afar, and now shall never enter my heaven,
For victory is no longer my shadow, 'tis to which I shall return.
I am like a shame behind thy glossy red curtain,
I am a pit whom thou couldst only befall, and joylessly spurn.
But ah! Still I am blessed, within my imperfection-thou knoweth it not?
I am blessed by the airs-and wealthy Edens of the Almighty, thou seeth t'is not?
He who hath the care, and pride anew-to cut thy story short,
He who hath listened to my cores, and shall deliver me from thy resort.
T'us I shall be afraid not, of thy wobbly tunes-and thy greedy notes!
For humility is in my heart, though probably thou hath cursed me;
And bidden me to let my soul detach, and run astray,
Still I shall find my fertile love, and go away;
I shall bring him away-away from thy abrupt coldness-and headless dismay;
I shall nurse and love him again-like I hath done yesterday, and even today;
And in t'is, I shall carest not for what thou might say to me later-day after day.
For as far as I shall go, my poetry t'an shall entail me;
And thus follow the liveliness, and scrutiny-of my merritorious paths only,
And in the name of Him, shall love thee and rejoice in thee not;
But within my soul, it shall recklessly, but patiently-do them both;
'Tis my very goal it shall accomplish,
And for my very romance, shall it sketch up altogether-such a mature bliss.
I should dance, thereof-just like a reborn female swan;
And forget everything life might contain-including my birth, as though life wouldst just be a lot of fun.

But I shall be alive like my tenderness,
So is my love-he t'at hath brought forth my happiness,
I shall be dressed only in the finest clothes-and he my prince,
As the gem of my soul hath desired our holiness to be, ever since.
Yet still I hope thou wouldst be freed, and granted my virtue,
Though still I doubt about which-for thy fruits are weightless, and to forever remain untrue.
Such be the case, art thou entitled to my current screams,
And blanketed only by my most fearful dreams.
T'is is my curse-in which thou shalt be in danger, but must be obedient,
For curses canst be real-and mine considers thee not, as a faithful friend.
And obedience be not in thee-then thou shalt all be death,
Just like thou hath imprisoned my love, and deceived my breath!
Still-my honesty leads me away, and shall let me receive my triumph;
As so cravingly I hath endured-and tried to reach, in my poems!
Ah, Coventry, unlike the stars-indulged in their tasteful domes,
Even when I am free, in thee I shall never be as joyful-and thus thou, shalt never be my home.
(PIANO DI SORRENTO.)

Fortu, Frotu, my beloved one,
Sit here by my side,
On my knees put up both little feet!
I was sure, if I tried,
I could make you laugh spite of Scirocco;
Now, open your eyes—
Let me keep you amused till he vanish
In black from the skies,
With telling my memories over
As you tell your beads;
All the memories plucked at Sorrento
—The flowers, or the weeds,
Time for rain! for your long hot dry Autumn
Had net-worked with brown
The white skin of each grape on the bunches,
Marked like a quail’s crown,
Those creatures you make such account of,
Whose heads,—specked with white
Over brown like a great spider’s back,
As I told you last night,—
Your mother bites off for her supper;
Red-ripe as could be.
Pomegranates were chapping and splitting
In halves on the tree:
And betwixt the loose walls of great flintstone,
Or in the thick dust
On the path, or straight out of the rock side,
Wherever could ******
Some burnt sprig of bold hardy rock-flower
Its yellow face up,
For the prize were great butterflies fighting,
Some five for one cup.
So, I guessed, ere I got up this morning,
What change was in store,
By the quick rustle-down of the quail-nets
Which woke me before
I could open my shutter, made fast
With a bough and a stone,
And look through the twisted dead vine-twigs,
Sole lattice that’s known!
Quick and sharp rang the rings down the net-poles,
While, busy beneath,
Your priest and his brother tugged at them,
The rain in their teeth:
And out upon all the flat house-roofs
Where split figs lay drying,
The girls took the frails under cover:
Nor use seemed in trying
To get out the boats and go fishing,
For, under the cliff,
Fierce the black water frothed o’er the blind-rock
No seeing our skiff
Arrive about noon from Amalfi,
—Our fisher arrive,
And pitch down his basket before us,
All trembling alive
With pink and grey jellies, your sea-fruit,
—You touch the strange lumps,
And mouths gape there, eyes open, all manner
Of horns and of humps.
Which only the fisher looks grave at,
While round him like imps
Cling screaming the children as naked
And brown as his shrimps;
Himself too as bare to the middle—
—You see round his neck
The string and its brass coin suspended,
That saves him from wreck.
But today not a boat reached Salerno,
So back to a man
Came our friends, with whose help in the vineyards
Grape-harvest began:
In the vat, half-way up in our house-side,
Like blood the juice spins,
While your brother all bare-legged is dancing
Till breathless he grins
Dead-beaten, in effort on effort
To keep the grapes under,
Since still when he seems all but master,
In pours the fresh plunder
From girls who keep coming and going
With basket on shoulder,
And eyes shut against the rain’s driving,
Your girls that are older,—
For under the hedges of aloe,
And where, on its bed
Of the orchard’s black mould, the love-apple
Lies pulpy and red,
All the young ones are kneeling and filling
Their laps with the snails
Tempted out by this first rainy weather,—
Your best of regales,
As tonight will be proved to my sorrow,
When, supping in state,
We shall feast our grape-gleaners (two dozen,
Three over one plate)
With lasagne so tempting to swallow
In slippery ropes,
And gourds fried in great purple slices,
That colour of popes.
Meantime, see the grape-bunch they’ve brought you,—
The rain-water slips
O’er the heavy blue bloom on each globe
Which the wasp to your lips
Still follows with fretful persistence—
Nay, taste, while awake,
This half of a curd-white smooth cheese-ball,
That peels, flake by flake,
Like an onion’s, each smoother and whiter;
Next, sip this weak wine
From the thin green glass flask, with its stopper,
A leaf of the vine,—
And end with the prickly-pear’s red flesh
That leaves through its juice
The stony black seeds on your pearl-teeth
…Scirocco is loose!
Hark! the quick, whistling pelt of the olives
Which, thick in one’s track,
Tempt the stranger to pick up and bite them,
Though not yet half black!
How the old twisted olive trunks shudder!
The medlars let fall
Their hard fruit, and the brittle great fig-trees
Snap off, figs and all,—
For here comes the whole of the tempest
No refuge, but creep
Back again to my side and my shoulder,
And listen or sleep.

O how will your country show next week
When all the vine-boughs
Have been stripped of their foliage to pasture
The mules and the cows?
Last eve, I rode over the mountains;
Your brother, my guide,
Soon left me, to feast on the myrtles
That offered, each side,
Their fruit-*****, black, glossy and luscious,—
Or strip from the sorbs
A treasure, so rosy and wondrous,
Of hairy gold orbs!
But my mule picked his sure, sober path out,
Just stopping to neigh
When he recognized down in the valley
His mates on their way
With the *******, and barrels of water;
And soon we emerged
From the plain, where the woods could scarce follow
And still as we urged
Our way, the woods wondered, and left us,
As up still we trudged
Though the wild path grew wilder each instant,
And place was e’en grudged
’Mid the rock-chasms, and piles of loose stones
(Like the loose broken teeth
Of some monster, which climbed there to die
From the ocean beneath)
Place was grudged to the silver-grey fume-****
That clung to the path,
And dark rosemary, ever a-dying,
That, ’spite the wind’s wrath,
So loves the salt rock’s face to seaward,—
And lentisks as staunch
To the stone where they root and bear berries,—
And… what shows a branch
Coral-coloured, transparent, with circlets
Of pale seagreen leaves—
Over all trod my mule with the caution
Of gleaners o’er sheaves,
Still, foot after foot like a lady—
So, round after round,
He climbed to the top of Calvano,
And God’s own profound
Was above me, and round me the mountains,
And under, the sea,
And within me, my heart to bear witness
What was and shall be!
Oh Heaven, and the terrible crystal!
No rampart excludes
Your eye from the life to be lived
In the blue solitudes!
Oh, those mountains, their infinite movement!
Still moving with you—
For, ever some new head and breast of them
Thrusts into view
To observe the intruder—you see it
If quickly you turn
And, before they escape you, surprise them—
They grudge you should learn
How the soft plains they look on, lean over,
And love (they pretend)
-Cower beneath them; the flat sea-pine crouches
The wild fruit-trees bend,
E’en the myrtle-leaves curl, shrink and shut—
All is silent and grave—
’Tis a sensual and timorous beauty—
How fair, but a slave!
So, I turned to the sea,—and there slumbered
As greenly as ever
Those isles of the siren, your Galli;
No ages can sever
The Three, nor enable their sister
To join them,—half-way
On the voyage, she looked at Ulysses—
No farther today;
Though the small one, just launched in the wave,
Watches breast-high and steady
From under the rock, her bold sister
Swum half-way already.
Fortu, shall we sail there together
And see from the sides
Quite new rocks show their faces—new haunts
Where the siren abides?
Shall we sail round and round them, close over
The rocks, though unseen,
That ruffle the grey glassy water
To glorious green?
Then scramble from splinter to splinter,
Reach land and explore,
On the largest, the strange square black turret
With never a door,
Just a loop to admit the quick lizards;
Then, stand there and hear
The birds’ quiet singing, that tells us
What life is, so clear!
The secret they sang to Ulysses,
When, ages ago,
He heard and he knew this life’s secret,
I hear and I know!

Ah, see! The sun breaks o’er Calvano—
He strikes the great gloom
And flutters it o’er the mount’s summit
In airy gold fume!
All is over! Look out, see the gipsy,
Our tinker and smith,
Has arrived, set up bellows and forge,
And down-squatted forthwith
To his hammering, under the wall there;
One eye keeps aloof
The urchins that itch to be putting
His jews’-harps to proof,
While the other, through locks of curled wire,
Is watching how sleek
Shines the hog, come to share in the windfalls
—An abbot’s own cheek!
All is over! Wake up and come out now,
And down let us go,
And see the fine things got in order
At Church for the show
Of the Sacrament, set forth this evening;
Tomorrow’s the Feast
Of the Rosary’s ******, by no means
Of Virgins the least—
As you’ll hear in the off-hand discourse
Which (all nature, no art)
The Dominican brother, these three weeks,
Was getting by heart.
Not a post nor a pillar but’s dizened
With red and blue papers;
All the roof waves with ribbons, each altar
A-blaze with long tapers;
But the great masterpiece is the scaffold
Rigged glorious to hold
All the fiddlers and fifers and drummers
And trumpeters bold,
Not afraid of Bellini nor Auber,
Who, when the priest’s hoarse,
Will strike us up something that’s brisk
For the feast’s second course.
And then will the flaxen-wigged Image
Be carried in pomp
Through the plain, while in gallant procession
The priests mean to stomp.
And all round the glad church lie old bottles
With gunpowder stopped,
Which will be, when the Image re-enters,
Religiously popped.
And at night from the crest of Calvano
Great bonfires will hang,
On the plain will the trumpets join chorus,
And more poppers bang!
At all events, come—to the garden,
As far as the wall,
See me tap with a *** on the plaster
Till out there shall fall
A scorpion with wide angry nippers!

…”Such trifles”—you say?
Fortu, in my England at home,
Men meet gravely today
And debate, if abolishing Corn-laws
Is righteous and wise
—If ’tis proper, Scirocco should vanish
In black from the skies!
William Clifton Jun 2015
Count-entious . . .
Five-Seven-Five, or
Is it Seven-Five-Seven?
Dyslexic Haiku!

High Coo-Coo . . .
Words like scrambled eggs
Malapropos slip off the tongs
Lysdexics UNTIE!

Swum . . .
I never flip turned
I zagged; everyone else zigged
Oh, how I was schooled
Olivia Jun 2013
There was once a girl named indigo //
And there was a Christmas tree she wanted to chop down
She possessed all the tools to complete this task
She received a saw for chopping the wood
She picked up the saw and got on her knees
But then something peculiar happened //
Something so ******* strange yet entrancing at the same time
// The tree
began to grow backwards into the ground
the roots became a seed
and life became counter clockwise
counter clockwise of insanity and greed
Bluejays swum while cod fish flew
Her world got kicked over by the bully from school
She wanted to shoot everything because nothing made sense any more
More than anything she just wanted to be
But the subliminal messages she couldn’t read
While supercritical people just watched her bleed
The alphabet no longer went from A to Z
/and there was no such things as vowels//
without vowels she couldn’t write poetry
and without poetry she had no oxygen
her world was no more
it was all in code
it was so ****** up it was like watching the liveliness come out of her father’s throat
Oh wait, I didn’t tell you
Indigo watched the liveliness come out of her father’s throat//
Indigo became a synonym for insanity
the tornado spit her out like a beautiful waterfall
instead of ******* her in//
all she could do is fall //
but//
she can’t breathe
and she’s being compressed
she can’t see
she’s understanding less
she’s trying to act what society classifies as normal
but it is a useless approach
she is climbing in gym class, but without a rope
yet the rope is a noose
She is over analyzing herself into a hiatus space
Where it’s not actually hiatus but filled with chaotic mace
The mace is getting sprayed in her retinas
But she can’t see anything
Regretin the
Upside down world she created
Life stuck in reverse not tolerated
Revolving in ways that make her isolated//
But maybe if she stopped//
Stopped
Separating the separated
Decided to educate the educated
And learn to not under estimate the estimated
Then she too could feel that feeling again
but
Indigo can’t feel
And
She says
Hit me
Punch me
Kick me
Shoot me
Just do whatever you can to make me feel
Feel this feelingless life so I can begin heal
She wakes up and opens her eyes and now she is blind
The chaos has turned her heart into a mind
And mind into the heart
Where brain waves pump blood instead of intellectual parts
And her car won’t stop going in reverse but she is still pushing it forward to start
But it’s stuck
She’s stuck
Help indigo she’s stuck
All I want is for indigo is to be what she is:
a deep captivating blue
and I want her to captivate the blue
like the ocean captivates the white part of the waves//
the part that crashes the hardest at mid day
and I want the wave to push her over
PUSH ME OVER WAVE
HIT ME
PUNCH ME
KICK ME
SHOOT ME
MAKE ME FEEL AGAIN
MAKE ME THE CAPTIVATING BLUE
FORCE ME-TO-CAPTIVATE-THAT-BLUE
AND MAYBE MY BRAIN WILL TURN BACK INTO MY BRAIN
AND MY HEART WILL TURN BACK INTO A HEART
WHERE IT DOES PUMP BLOOD INSTEAD OF INTELLECTUAL PARTS
AND I’LL LEARN TO READ THE SUBLIMINAL MESSAGES PEOPLE SAID TO ME
AND I’LL EVEN APPRECIATE WHEN I BLEED
EVEN IF SUPERCRITICAL PEOPLE WERE THE CAUSE OF IT AND NOT ME
And I’ll learn to breath, I’ll learn to breathe, and I’ll learn all over again because
After all, all Indigo was, was one thing:
A deep captivating blue.
Sukanya Basu Dec 2013
Through the nature that i've travelled
There's so much to unravel
And the sea's that i've swum
Whether fishes are dumb
And the skies that are blue
Do they wear lace shoes?
Those dinosaurs which were ugly
Did they shave their legs regularly?
Do flying fishes even fly
Or its just a rumor spread by cats
So that it can eat every time a human has its catch
Did apes develop into humans
Or totally vice-versa
Before we know it we'll go extinct
And apes on trees will have sips of *****
Do kangaroos have pockets from birth
Or did they buy from Denims
Before i know it dogs will purr
And rocks will have feelings
Do owls sleep or act their way through the day
It will not be Meryl Streep but them, catching the oscar and walking away!
Do snakes hiss by nature or just be angry due to their body folds
Before i know it others will wear Jimmychoo's and all they'll do is catch a cold!
DO lions have smelling ability or they just put a tracking device
Playing billiards in 'Catsino' and using cell phones made of mice?!
Do eagles, the pilots of the sky have pretty air hostesses attend to
Or locate and make a buffet out of the, that's exactly what i'm referring to!
Its this jungle or paradise, or what a new age city?
Casino's of lions, oscars for owls, that's my LIFE'S EXPECTANCY !
Zach Willett Nov 2012
i am at the top of beggar’s peak
i have lived alone
i brew tea and sit serenely staring at the top of the world
the sky holds me in and i am thankful

i am wading in mudslap creek
i have swum alone
i splish, splash and stomp in the gold forest with all my livelihood
the earth holds me up and i am thankful

i am strolling in baldie woods
i have seen a home
i cut, craft and toil all the day long in perfect serenity
the world embraces me and i am thankful

i am dead in this gracious world
i have lived content
i breathed, climbed and sang all my life without wrong and all things were gold
the gods love on me and i am thankful
To the Moon and back have I loved you,
To the Moon, that I have loved for too long.
You cannot even see me within this song,
You cannot love nor see me anew.

To the Moon and stars have I missed you,
I have seen your sins, and hearts *****,
I have searched for you around the sun
I have longed for you, trapped within me.

To the Moon and skies have I writ,
With not so much merit and a little wit,
I have loved you in a single heartbeat,
I have left you but, my darling, merry meet.

To the Moon and the heart that I knew,
There are not many words to utter,
That such feelings have gone forever,
And have you loved me, forgot me not?

To the Moon and lungs of the earth,
Have I loved again, within my breath?
Have I lost my poems and sights of death?
Have I been sunk in your cold wrath?

To the Moon and the rigid Sunshine,
I have believed not in your fate,
That such a chill still catches me by surprise
That such choices may not be wise.

To the Moon and Earth have I told you,
That all is not much like a children's tale,
Perhaps I can go again, wish me well,
There is not much of a love like you.

To the Moon and life have I seen you,
I have loved you as my fate, a fulfillment
That to wishful dreams such is a mate
Not to be with theirs, not too late.

To the Moon and Night have I seen again,
Have I read, and devoured frank white tales,
Have I longed, have I dreamed, and kissed
Have I fallen in love with a young twist.

To the Moon and breath have I heard,
And all was a nightmare to my chest,
The morning, such a shy dawn,
Is unlike any other night I have seen.

To the Moon and Light have I sworn,
That such a poet has sainted a tone,
She sits and stares, all in silence,
Love is love in her white solitude.

To the Moon and Fate have I told,
Such white nights are to behold,
And within them is a scary love,
What is not a scary tale to me.

To the Moon and Rise have I called,
Around the skies and earth to reach you,
You, whose gaze made me bare and anew,
I, who saw all the lithe winds in blue.

To the Moon and Snow have I gone,
To want to bring you to me alone,
To make myself known to such grace,
To love you and back again in haste.

To the Moon and bliss have I sworn,
That such a desire is not forlorn,
As far as my stories can tell,
So long as my lifeless dreams are felt.

To the Moon and shapes have I wanted,
I have wanted you like none else does,
With a ****** rose and sea that last,
With an ocean at present, of the past.

To the Moon and storms have I swum,
In such coldness, all longings must go numb,
But who would astound such loving feelings
Who should say yet, ‘tis a morning?

To the Moon and lands have I been,
To the swathes of love of the Neverland,
But who would whisk away such strange love
While there is much, there is enough?

To the Moon and day have I reached,
That such a chest is not bare, no more,
I have filled my love with a thousand days,
I have teased my sight with a hundred lights.

To the Moon and shores have I dreamed,
With a dark slice of weariness up high,
A tinge of bitterness is in your eyes,
A hint of sweetness at my sour nights.

To the Moon and heart have I sent you,
To the vast love I have unleashed,
That I want you but more in my arms
To such spilling lights, to such a free fate.

To the Moon and Sea have I sainted you,
In the so much rain like I used to,
I have sprinted to you, and run back again
I love you in the sun, under the rain

To the Moon and Soul have I burned you,
That you remain but a naive flesh to me
One that propels my heights, my destiny
One that I have all here with me.

To the Moon and words have I writ of you,
And chosen you to be my serene song
I have loved you with such trueness
I have loved you for too long.
"They laugh at you because you intimidate them"

So young and naive you did not know who you are
confused your worth for being used for pain
oblivious of the fact that you are a shining star
entrapped by these ideologies of steel bars
you are told you are too weak to make it to tar
Dragged and beaten, a passion still lives that will take you far
brave enough to search for your soul, you'll soon found out who you are

As you have been made to witness death
Failure has been your tail and has shortened your length
For you have been bewitched by a predator that feeds on your strength
watching your loved ones hammered and stabbed to sudden death
you resort to camping where heaven has a tent

you have seen all you knew crumbling down like a stack of cards
before your eyes the fires of hell have been shooting like darts
your friends have laughed at your downfall and called you a ****
chances and opportunities gone leave you a worry-wart

this is the walk of shame,
***** up and they preach your name
do good and they praise your fame
unaware that you are a beast hard to tame

and the women weigh your accountability against money
you can be sweet but can you buy the sugar and honey?
you share jokes but she sleeps in the arms of another man, it's funny
you're smart and craft sharp ideas but your ***** are left blunt, you dummy
Don't you know that you lie to keep them from running?
and that the truth and being yourself keep them from coming

the walk of shame would be your fame
as they laugh at your faults and lames
if they see not a fault they'd nail and frame
leaving you wondering where the true ones are, the sincere friend and fair dame...

So you rise and it is news to them
For they only saw soil and not the seed that'd stem
They were unaware that you're being polished for your term
uninformed that they're killed, tired and drenched, by the lazy worm
that you're the deepest element that swum when they swam
the coolest bell that tingled ring and softly rang
the one impaired during production but forms in time, ***** and span
alive and upright, a driven and passionate man...
Your walk of shame astounds them then, shame shem shem.
Shield Maiden Apr 2015
I can still feel you on my lips
The taste of your tongue
Which made my head swum
I gave you all my heart
My first ever love

But someone so cute as you
Brought me so much misery and doom
You destroyed both me and you
With all your cheating, lies
Now you are being despised

See what you have done
So much suffering
That I can’t go on
Leave me alone
Enjoy your parties
And so long
I tried to make a happy poem but clearly it had a mind of its own. I hope you enjoy.
L Maughan May 2019
You
You unwanted
pregnancy
of thought you
brains and eggs
all over the menu
you single greatest
common denominator
pen-knifed into fractions
you nanny goat on my car roof
trout swum
against my naked ankle
you deer wedged
in my wheel well you
skunk caught in a metal
trap and found out in the
morning you sparrow in the
greenhouse
frantic at the window
you lost calf in the gully you
branch-torn birch the high
winds snapped
you
black duck dead
still limp in the nest
at daybreak after thunder
you dairy in my error
you’re awfully good for my grief
ughdrey Jun 2013
Gal
Even on the coldest days of winter, there is a much colder creature who lives in the caverns and chambers of the rocky cliffs by the shore line. His name is Palytrus, he resembles what most believe would be a devil. Palytrus is the only of his kind that he knows of. He has searched ocean floors and dug through grains of sand searching for anything that resembled what he sees in the reflection of the water. He feeds recklessly. His darkened emotions drive him to leave his meals soulless, countless, and dead. Palytrus believes by getting rid of others, he'll find what he's looking for. He thinks if he can clear the land, he’s bound to find someone like him. And he does.
While hunting under the waves for the few birds and fish that feed on the bones he leaves, he sees his reflection above him. He knows it is not him though. He has swum this way for as long as he can remember and when he sees this, he panics. He shoots up and startles the other creature. He exclaims he's been so lonely and he's so happy to find another. She speaks, she says her name is Galo and that she came to see if there was any shelter in the area but notices that there is not much food. "Something has been eating everything and the birds and fish are becoming so rare here." Palytrus knows this because he has had a hard time looking for food as well but he cannot tell her he's responsible for the greedy extinction of food he caused because of his anger.
But his anger is lifted, all he wants is for her to live so he spends days and nights hunting. He shows her the cavern he calls home and she stays while he hunts. He brings her as many animals as he can find and every time he watches her with a smile, content that he has found someone relatable.
Galo awakes one morning and finds Palytrus is dead. He starved himself for her, he gave every ounce of food he found to her. She wept by his side as she ate him, not because she was hungry, but because she wanted him to be a part of her forever and not picked off by whatever other animals remained. She left the cavern to find food. She found the place he lived and pried very lonely, much like Palytrus but what she failed to tell him was behind the caves and the ledges he had been living, lied another beach, full of food and others just like him. She was so flattered by his hospitality, she never thought to tell him.
Galo went back to her home and told the others she had found safety from the harshly cold nights they had been familiar with. The others were thrilled to know they had a home and traveled to Palytrus’ cave. Realizing there was no food, they would send packs out to the other side during the day to gather and come back to the cave to feast together at night.
Galo told everyone about Palytrus but told them a slightly different story. Instead of telling them he had starved to death after depleting the food supply for her, she told them he was a selfless being who left his home because he was contagiously and deathly ill. She told them that he wanted the others to survive and grow and for them to live fulfilled and bright lives. This was true, he didn’t want anyone to feel like he felt for so long. Galo, aware of the truth, never told a soul she fed on the one who saved them, but never let anyone forget his name or kindness either.
I've been the fish,
I've swum the dream.
I've been the explorer,
The King, the Queen.
I've been the slave,
I've waded the stream.
I've been the dust,
I've been the ash,
And I've been everything in between.

There will come a life when this is seen for what it is,
When one simplifies their deeds
And no misgivings will give,
When one realizes the Grand Illusion
In which they have lived,
When one pours forth their infinite essence
And filters the impurities through the sieve.

One must transform their leaden clang
Into a Golden Resound.
Until this goal is clear,
We're all just ******* around.
*
Alexander J. Ziatyk
Terry O'Leary Mar 2013
1

The drummer beats slowly, the drummer beats loud
     as he beats of humanity wrapped in a shroud.

Well he beats of the **** and the killing of war
     and the mind mangling sorrow we blithely ignore
          and he beats of combatants who’re dying deceived
               while the merchants of ****** count profits received.

And he beats of civilians so savagely slain
     and of bundles of bodies cast off in distain,
          and he beats of the butch'ry that's feeding the flood,
               clogging drains with our flesh, filling swamps with our blood.

And he beats of cadavers, by famine defined
     that has ravished and plagued since the dawn of mankind,
          and he beats of big biz letting oranges decay
               while a child suffers scurvy and passes away.

He beats and he pounds till our consciences gnaw
     and his fingers are battered and ****** and raw
          and his hands are all broken and bleeding and raw.

2

The drummer beats slowly, the drummer beats loud
     as he beats of abuse that we try to becloud.

Well he beats of the barons and princes and kings
     who have broken broad backs with their clubs and their slings,
          and he beats of the toll of divine royal rights
               when the droit du seigneur sullied white wedding nights.

     And he beats of the bribes that the powerful make
          to the pale politicians who wax in their wake,
               and he beats of the waifs bound by chains to machines,
                    and of slaves sporting nooses, and other such scenes.

And he beats of the tyrants in clerical garb
     who have tortured with ******* and thumbscrews and barb
          and he beats of decrees claiming all men are free
               while ignoring cowed thralls and their agonised plea.


He beats and he pounds till revealing the flaw
     and his fingers are battered and ****** and raw
           and his hands are all broken and bleeding and raw.

3

The drummer beats slowly, the drummer beats loud
     as he beats of the strength of the rebels so proud.

Well he beats of the spirit the rack couldn’t break,
     and the fragrance of flesh that was burned at the stake,
          and he beats of gray witches submerged in a pond,
               being swum to nirvana and even beyond.

And he beats of the minds that could never be chained
     by the faith that was living while ignorance reigned;
          and he beats of bold battles when Spartacus rose        
               having tired of shackles and slavery’s woes.

And he beats of bent women who’ll fight to be freed
     and will never give up till they finally succeed,
          and he beats of their progress, belying the jeers,
               overwhelming the pessimists' fatuous sneers.

He beats and he pounds till we stand back in awe
     and his fingers are battered and ****** and raw
          and his hands are all broken and bleeding and raw.

4

The drummer beats slowly, the drummer beats loud
     as he beats of the sights that he’s seen from a cloud.

Well he beats of the passion when lovers have lain
     with their bodies entwined midst a field of fresh grain;
          and he beats of the joy when a mother has smiled
               while she’s nursing a baby, her newly born child.

And he beats of the sorrow upsurging inside
     leaving shadows and ruins when loved ones have died.
          Then he beats of an image that looms as a dream
               of a time when compassion and love reign supreme.

And he beats of lush meadows pale yellow and green,
     shining lakes in a woodland, a river serene.
          Then he beats of a planet that dies in a sweat,
               and of smirks of the dullards denying the threat.

He beats and he pounds till we see what he saw
     and his fingers are battered and ****** and raw
          and his hands are all broken and bleeding and raw.

*

The drummer beats slowly, the drummer beats loud
    
     And he beats of humanity wrapped in a shroud
          And he beats of abuse that we try to becloud
               And he beats of the strength of the rebels so proud
                    And he beats of the sights that he’s seen from a cloud.

     And he beats and he pounds till our consciences gnaw
          And he beats and he pounds till revealing the flaw
               And he beats and he pounds till we stand back in awe
                    And he beats and he pounds till we see what he saw.

And his fingers are battered and ****** and raw
     And his hands are all broken and bleeding and raw.

          And his hands are all
               broken
                   and bleeding
                        and raw.
Ronnie Ng Nov 2011
A fish, is a bird that cannot fly;
A bird, is a fish that cannot swim.
Eons ago, fishes may have flown;
while birds may have swum.. just
like how i have forgotten the many
things which i had done before...

Loneliness, is the revelry of one person;
Revelry, is the loneliness of many people.
Long ago, the loner had many friends,
while the party-goers used to be loners.
I myself have long forgotten when was
the last time a girl rested on my shoulder.

A fish, is a bird that cannot fly;
A bird, is a fish that cannot swim...

Copyright, Ronnie Ng 2011
I have been,
Seen
And returned,
Whilst they were still blinking,

I have felt,
Experienced
And reflected,
Whilst they were still thinking.

I have been through the Stars,

I have bypassed Mars.

I have left this world behind,
On more than one occasion,

I have left reality behind --
Each time it froze-over
And became a Hellish abomination.

I have been to Hell
And back,
More times
Than I care to remember,

I have swum deep into my Abyss
And held my breath,
Many times,
Whilst it begged me to surrender.

But I never did...
I always came back!

I always walked through the woods,
Staying clear of the obvious track.

Only so I could return
To the Universes beyond my mind -- Homeward bound!

Beyond the stars,
Where my soul's serenity
I always find --
Where I always felt found!

'Peace' amongst a zillion thoughts
That continually evolve--nonstop!
They speak in vibrant colours...

Turquoise,
Teal,
Magenta
And Crimson -
Colours superseding
Verbal language;  
Unleashing my Supernatural Powers.

Dreaming, whilst awake,

All for my sanity's sake.

I have...
I do...
I must!

To live...
To be me...
The me, I trust!

Lady R.F. (C)2018
Ben Jan 2014
Where can I get those loves?
If they are always hidden,
Under the deep blue ocean,
I've never set the sail,
I've never swum before,
I shall start the journey,
Even though I know I am going to die amid the despairing search,
Eaten by surprise,
Murdered by revelation,
You don't even know what's been inside me,
You ought to think the waves are caressing the shore,
Believing what people say about the soothing sound of the ocean,
I am the only ones who know,
The waves have always been violent,
They tend to rot humans emotion away,
They are bound to be the silent killer,
Feed on gloomy soul.
just another expression to transcend the negativity
Thomas Thurman Dec 2010
Spanyel! Spanyel! Thine embrace
Places Paws upon my Face;
What celestial Factory
Dare fill thy doggy Heart with glee?

From what Furnace flowed thy Blood?
Whence proceeded all this Mud?
Was that a Cow thou hidst beneath?
What the Tongue? and what the Teeth?

What the Nose? and what the Jaw?
In what Quagmire was thy Paw?
Hast thou swum the Pond as well?
That perhaps explains thy Smell.

Spanyel! Spanyel! Thine embrace
Places Paws upon my Face;
What celestial Factory
Dare fill thy doggy Heart with glee?
Lys Jun 2018
Dipped under the current
smoothed pebbles mud-slide
down the creak's entryway
into the lake.
Depositing into the soil
only to be tussled about by our waves.
We swim vigorously
reaching for stability
breathing deeply,
accepting black dirt
filling our mouth
and claiming our lungs.
Striking against my body
was a warrior in pain.
As if healing only meant
pushing others
far away.
Floating down the stream
of confounding affection,
tree branches, and silt
barricade the movement
of my recollection,
of the pebble to the lake,
how far we've swum without
claiming our state.
Looking the other way,
we allowed it.
Further and further out,
knowing we could only swim so far,
we kept our hearts under t
                                               h
                                                 e
                                                   surface.
And our thoughts stranded at bay.
Zulu Samperfas Jun 2013
I was furious, completely screaming in the car at the "alcoholics" who dared to have a wine festival
in the park, and blocked off the swimming pool where I intended to seek endorphins, relief
from the painful thoughts that my head was swimming in, the anger, rage at my soon to be X job.  
Today was graduation day, but I was not there to smile with other teachers and administrators I hate
and I couldn't do it, luckily I don't teach seniors
Absolutely enraged at the quietly joyous celebrations around me,
the happy smiles, and blissful walks people were having heading to the festival,
I sought out a lake I had heard of where I could derive some endorphins from a that swim
My phone GPS lead me to a dead end and a dusty trail, beyond which lay a fetid green pond a glimpse of a larger lake, so I set out with my 50 pounds of swim gear, along the dusty path behind a housing development cursing and raging against the world.
And then, a beacon, a parking lot and cars backed up and I was there

I've never swum in a lake before and it was cold, and I couldn't see where I was going
I saw no fish, only green dusty water and some dead looking water plants
but the swim served it's purpose and I wandered back to shore as a water creature
walking to a strange new world
I boldly put my towel underneath the lifeguard tower and lay as the lifeguards
kicked sand onto me, and I read "All Quiet on the Western Front" on my phone
I began to feel as a soldier must feel, that my little comforts, the shade of the life guard tower, the book, my over stuffed bag as a head rest were the supreme comforts of life,
And when I bought a heaping pile of Nachos and the guards kicked sand into them,
I continued to eat and swallow sand, and save them by my head as I read.
In and out of the green depths and I noticed the people around me, mostly not white, mostly Mexican, and one girl, with long black hair who was one of those girls that make me understand
how men can fall in love with us.  She was so beautiful, so perfect, with white skin contrasting with the black of her hair and clothing and if I wasn't straight, I would have been smitten
She was with a rough crowd however, and later I saw her, standing around the back of the bathroom, looking so vulnerable, a priceless flower among tough, although stylish characters
no good will come of this

I became drunk with the sun, and on my way back, I was again imagining a speech I'd give to my oppressors, in my alter ego Southern accent.  
My feet were hideously dusty, but the way back was clear and when I arrived home,
I realized, graduation had come and gone, and I was safe and one step closer
to freedom
Michael P Smith Apr 2013
The description of my affliction grasps the friction of a worthy depiction to my addiction in a position feeling the infliction of my minds worst prediction..
Unleashed skeletons distinguished in the flight of pelicans severing the embellishing of savored intelligence longing for sweet repentance revealing relief that goes the distance..
Searching for clarity that never ending morality my mind takes on high hilarity in the crushed arms of polarity assembling the modularity of my brain screws in chastity releasing all of the bottled-in charity of my restless audacity...
As all that's buried beneath takes turn within my rocky caverns that burn I release my tactiturn of the aches and pains the spurn I've been able to learn bounty of my earn comes to term as I yearn for freedom of silent concern if I can disinfect this germ like cleansing the embodiment of the smoked sherm I will be clear of the uncoiled fern slithering about as a pristine worm..
Deeply inside my head I've swum like the graceful swan in the pond that I come to grow fond classified the demimond upon no formed bond twisting my thoughts my top has spun uncontrollably making me dumb my darkest secrets tucked in the gun behind the chamber of obligated fun partaking of the glazeless bun that's so scrumptious to my tum tum I can never find riddance playing the war drum but if I fail now my utterance is done now if all coincide with my tone I may finally speak out and be gone...
CA Guilfoyle Sep 2015
Nights, we take the boat out
paddle our way, green through water
swum by inlet waves, full moon apace
shadowy, ancient tribal faced
lose all trace of the shore, black
but for phosphorescence
glowing, trailing from the oars
a haunting, ghostly art
green and breathing, disappearing
back into darkness, swallowed
by black water, by night
strange this death,
the rebirth and breath
felt in each and every moment
Rachel Samson Dec 2013
Dear Mum,*

I love you!
I’m sorry if I hurt you
I’m not blaming you.
I really miss you!

You were only seventeen then
When your world was taken
When your heart was broken
When I become a burden

You swum in a vast pool of sorrow
Thinking that happiness was something to be borrowed
Doubting that life is not meant to be followed
Have no reason to lived for tomorrow

I know you were disturbed by storm of confusion
I know you were starting to make illusion
You've been engulfed by people’s pollution
Until you decide to make your conclusion

Sorry, if I bring trouble to you
Sorry, for forcing myself to be with you
Sorry, for bringing up too much pain
Sorry, for making you feel like in vain.

I’m not blaming you …

You’re too young to be a mother
That’s why you really got bother
Don’t worry, you’re not a murderer
You’re just a victim of another lover.

I always want you to be happy
Together with your own family
No shame, no fallacy
Just you and no more fantasy

I’ll never forget your voice
I’ll never forget your touch
Your presence will always be with me
You will forever be missed.

P.S
Mum, please let my siblings see the world. Let them feel your caring hands and undying love. Tell them that I love them and care for them. You've been a good mum to me. Don’t worry about me. I am not alone, I’m with God. I love you forever and ever.

Your Angel,
***
Rasha Omer Jul 2013
Under the bright lights, the car parked.

"Is it wholesome?"

"What is?"

"Just like the canaries on the roof. They lean on each other so helplessly yet so beautifully"

"...like a movie?"

"A play."

"Why not drive again?"

"I was driving slowly, but I strayed away when a sudden moment of painful retention appeared in the rear mirror."

______

2. How long has it been, since we’ve flown three and a half kites across the black sky?

“I sought refuge within a shell.” You once said. “They wouldn’t buy your jewels.”

“I lost my sandals, in an ocean.”

“In our ocean?” You hushed. “You weren’t wearing any.”

“The sounds of the battle, has cost you your sight.” She laughed. “And, your insight.”

_____

3. What makes the world go ‘round? (1)

“I left you a note, seven years ago.” You held your breath. “Have you not read it?”

“The sports page?” Her face is aglow. “Your beloved fluorescent pink marker? How could I miss?” She closed her eyes. “Your cotton-candy, and your umbrellas? Have you never known me?”

_____

4. The shooting stars never fail to disappoint.

“Our fates intertwined” You’re half-asleep. “So did our shambles.”

“I’ve waited on you.” She’s made a sandcastle. “I’ve swum through a thousand knots.”

“Yet, you’ve lost.”

“After I’ve tried.” Her wings in bubble wrap.  “I’ve been to the closure and back.”

“They’ve shot my heart down.”

“I’ve taken my pieces.”

_____


5. In harmony we detained our secrets, and cremated our bones.

“They told me of stolen years.” You wonder. “Where have they gone?”

“Many a lie consumed breathing air.” She swallowed her tears.

“This gift is worthless, if you can’t break your wings.”

“Derange my world?”

“Drown your life.” You sighed. “Save mine.”

“Your heart, my jewels, your shell, my wings, your notes, my sandals.”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”
______


(1) Al Green.
prose from years ago.
ohNoe Mar 2014
You must miss me
  must miss the kiss of me
The break had to make You ache
MISTAKE

I can write now what will still be
years after You've forgotten about me

in the myriad of mirrors in my mind
  Yur diamonds shall be the sole soul shine
every bit as real and raw and radiant as the first moment
they raced and rained and raised their reign within clint

reflections refuse to fade
each an inflection of Yur voice
  a forever of Yur face
   a reminder there ain't never been noe choice

every pissant poignant poet
weaving emotion images with their words
all the cunning linguist lyricists
singing lies and lines they think you've never heard
didn't actually feel any ******* thing
knew not one iota beyond nothing
of life
of love
of living in love

pathetic paintless portraits
(tattoos on a corpse)
empty echoes of nothing notes
(dealt by the deaf and the dead)

but I bet it's not their fault
they probably never felt a real fall
a feather float race up the rapids
with the fluffy grace of rabid rabbits

Not so for this man who be me
my feather has done dancin' shakin' in anti-gravity
I have sung sacred songs as angels swum along
our feather mountain biking heaven-strong

Of course our river was an awesome flow
(a hot-tub raft in moonlit snow)
And Our Poems were always best in show guitar glow
cuz I had You to Noe

yet the Mostest WOW was not enough somehow
the Bestest LOVE of this Life is not alive now

here I am again
a millennium worse than i've ever been
fetal black rose petals
dead dull dried
all their thorns' tears cried

no light left in my once bright blue eyes
dead and drowned and dried out
  cried out
  ashen grey
  nothing evermore to say
pain
Ikong Garabiles Jun 2014
One night as dark as my hair
Shines the moonlight clear
One night I got a nightmare
And woke up full of fear
One dream every time I remember
Gave me river of tear
This dream I wrote in a paper
Recalls the girl I dear

I was awaken in a pond
Standing in a lily pad
I was as green as lively grass
Gets fluffy as I breathe so hard
Definitely I am a frog
A frog disliked by everyone
I am a frog treated like mud
Because nobody wants a frog
And as a frog I also have
No care of what is all around
Unmindful of so many harsh
All I know is insect sound
But then once upon a time
Two birds I saw flew apart
And she calmly swum inside
Then the frog and swan collide
But as a frog I still care none
Even the presence of a swan
Standing still in lily pad
Still think I am just a mud
Suddenly I don't know why
I notice tears in her eyes
I am a frog that doesn't care
But swear I can't resist to stare
My body moves on its own
I hop from lily pads to stones
I play dumb and acts with craze
To see a curve in her face
Then the swan smiles so light
And look far on the other side
I notice how she watches his flight
And then another tear subside

I miss a smile from a bird
That bears a broken-heart
Her circumstance was so absurd
Like a very solemn art
In her back I took a ride
We act like groom and bride
We play even under the sun
Comfortably have so much fun
As frog I only croak
But I still sing a song
I croak I croak I croak
That makes her laugh along
But then the sky roared
As well as rain poured
I stop to sing
She spread her wings
Without a word she flee
The swan left me
A tear in my eye roll
Imitating the rainfall
I looked at the bird afar
That bears a broken-heart
I was like gazing at a star
With a shape of a heart
I’m just a frog in a pond
A tiny frog who knows no fun
But for some reason I sob
The reason might be love

Then I opened my eyes
I felt cold like ice
A tear roll in my cheek
I felt so numb to rise

Before I wrote this on a paper
I hunt for the finest pen
Like how the frog wander
To seek the swan again
John Gallagher Sep 2011
zoning in and out as blank as white,
i find no reason to awake and write,
my colors are dull and my hearing is numb,
is my reality really an illusion? or call me dumb,
dead in the head forever beneath the shining tree,
the shining tree that will release the spirit free,
turning into little tiny shafts of light,
the demon rose and said out of spite,
im here to turn your life into hell,
its up to you to get saved by the bell,
unfortunately the wake-up call never did come,
5000 miles into the ocean so i began and swum
Joe Cole Aug 2015
For many long years I have wandered
Many long years I have roamed
But a voice in my head is now calling
Calling me back to my South Country home

I have walked in your tropical forests
Experienced the hot desert sun
Climbed your mountains snow capped peaks
In your lakes and blue seas I have swum

Now a voice in my head is calling me back
Back to where I was born
Once more to walk in the pine woods
Under the warm summer sun

Many years ago I did leave her
A youth so fearless and bold
Now I hear my South Country calling me back
To the place where I can grow gracefully old

I will never forget the friends that I made
As I wandered your far distant shores
And if ever you visit my South Country
You'll find a welcome sign over my door
Something I wrote a long time ago but always enjoy reading
melissa rose Sep 2018
I have felt the ripples
of predestined change
Some crashing like tidal waves
upon my desolate plane

Others a delicate trickle
through this narrowing gorge;
complex and understated
in its methodical purge

Both deliberate in the upheaval
and churning of the soil
change that brings inner balance
to mind, body and soul

I’ve swum against their current
dragged to murky waters below
tumbling in the turmoil
of my urgent need for control

Now cast upon this rocky shore
panicked and alone
I must surrender to the journey
to find my way back home

I welcome the soaking of soles
as I intend to surf each wave
Immersing myself into its flow
I become the ripples of change
9/24/18
WCA Apr 2014
For she is the embodiment of pure nostalgia,
Her twists and turns are so inescapable.
For the memory of her clings to me,
And, as if a partner in crime,
Her goodbye accompanies.
I will find her, in the creases of sheets,
And the rooms that are hollow of her.
Somedays, all I can see is her,
Is her eyes.
Eyes that once held my world,

That hypnotized me with their electricity.
Yet today there is no serendipity found in the irises I once adored.
No, they only allude to the chilling numbness that has infested her blue bones.
Know that I write this as a obituary to the girl I once loved.
I write this in vengeance of the betrayals of fate.
I write this so you will understand that she was not always,

So terribly heartless.
She lies, as incorruptible evidence, that tears can live inside a gods eyes.
-

For I would have swum the ocean for her,
If only I could.
Zo Nadine Apr 2013
My eyes are bloodshot
But they aren’t tired just yet
My eyes look like I’ve seen too much smoke
Like they have swum in too much salt water
They are so dark the edges are almost blue
My friends thought they were black for a while
Two bruises that show everything I’ve felt
Show the scars I cut willingly into my skin
He touched me once or twice when I didn’t want it
I didn’t leave though
His fingers exploring my insides in ways no one ever should
I stayed though because that’s what I do, what I did.
I needed to save him from himself because
He hurt himself more than he hurt me
And he bruised my eyes pretty bad.
Another, he showed me what it meant to not want to live
What it took to beat a soul down to the size of nonexistence
What it took to **** him to the tune of Brand New
I always hated Brand New because it reminded me of you
You with your sad, exhausted eyes and sadistic laugh
I could tell that your laugh didn’t always sound like that
That one bad day, just enough people warped your laugh
Like the sun warps wood, so slow you can hear it
Each crack of the wood breaking your faith, breaking your will
And I lied with you that night on that carpet
As the little white pills mixed with that whiskey
And I carried you to the bed and didn’t call 911
Because you knew that’d be too easy.
After I left, you went down to the river and almost left
A month later, you called to say a 3-hour goodbye
You didn’t end up leaving the ground, so I had to leave you instead
Because my heart broke that morning for the final time
Like wood snapping under the pressure of the too-hot sun
My eyes are bloodshot
But they aren’t tired just yet
Because when I left, I left my crucifix
To the vultures because it was either that or me
And I’m tired of being eaten alive by sad souls
Who don’t know what they’re doing.

— The End —