"symbolisms" poems
Finding symbolisms
that connect you-
to me
scents and sights
that set my heart free
Baby,
my love is not a bribe,
nor my body or words
or my compassion
or played-out verbs…
What drives this force-
to me, is un-known
and these feelings
have done nothing but grown.
Like a thief in a bank-
my thoughts are more tempestuous
than the Devil driving a tank…
though nothing destroyed
will satiate.
And no words, no gifts,
nothing I can create
will be enough to show
the colors you make me see
-and the melodies in every key
that manifest with-in
every time you are near.
I don’t mean to over do it
or create a sense of fear
nor do I worry
that you may disappear.
circumstances and situations
of many assortments and arrays;
with or without you
will not hinder me
living through the day.
I just simply wish
I could write
the most compelling lines to you,
to move the world-
move the soul
-to make you proud
and feel completely whole.
To bombast all senses,
and knock down fences,
to alert the universe:
that you are in my heart
- to stay.
Jun 27, 2010
Jun 27, 2010 at 3:33 PM UTC
Clouds, Clouds, Clouds, Clouds
Calculated Clouds
Interesting Idioms
Physical Phenomena
Spiritual Symbolisms
Cloud seven
Completely happy, perfectly satisfied, wholly euphoric
Cloud eight
Befuddled by drinking too much liquor
Cloud nine
Jumping for joy; walking on air
Have one’s head in the clouds
To be out of touch with reality
Every cloud has a silver lining
Difficult times always lead to better days
He must be under a cloud
People have an unfavourable opinion of him
There’s a cloud on the horizon
An omen threatening to happen in time
To live in cloud-cuckoo land
Believing those truly impossible things will happen
High-Level Clouds
Cirrus and Cirrostratus
Mid-Level Clouds
Altocumulus and Altostratus
Low-Level Clouds
Nimbostratus and Stratocumulus
Vertical Development Clouds
Cumulus and Cumulonimbus
Other Cloud Types
Contrails and Billows
Mammatus and Orographic
And Pileus
An arc in the clouds represents God’s promises
A pillar of cloud symbolised the Lord’s guidance
Do you understand the balancing of the clouds?
He that considers the clouds shall not reap
In OT times, the cloud filled the temple
Jesus Christ will return on clouds of victory
And a personal one
Black clouds one afternoon covered the Salève
Hiding a most beautiful rainbow
And despite the clouds’ efforts to confuse
His promises are forever true
Which cloud are you under?
Sep 28, 2020
Sep 28, 2020 at 2:36 PM UTC
یقینوں کی سرحد، سوالوں سے آگے
گمانوں سے اوپر، خیالوں سے آگے
حقیقت کی پہچان باطن سے جاگے
دلیلوں سے بالا، حوالوں سے آگے
مری سوچ کی جس جگہ انتہا ہے
جلایت سماوی، تپش منتہیٰ ہے
ذرائع ، وسیلے، نشاں, استعارے
قدم دو قدم ساتھ چلتے سہارے
سبھی راستوں پر توکل زمینیں
سبھی گردشوں میں مقابل جبینیں
ہجومِ سلاسل میں قلبِ مجرد
جہاں نہ رسائی ہو ایسی وہ خلوت
وہاں کوئی نفسی، خودی، نہ انا ہے
مری سوچ کی جس جگہ انتہا ہے
وہاں پر خدا ہے، وہاں بھی خدا ہے
ع
۱۰۔۳۔۱۷
The dominion of faith is beyond the line of questions
Above the strata of probabilities
Ahead of the limits of imaginations
Recognition of truth arises from within
Independent of reasoning and evidence
Unaffected by references and certifications.
Where is the boundary of my awareness?
Heavenly light, infinite candescence
Resources, means, symbolisms, provenance
Temporary camaraderies and companionships...
On all paths, the ground is made of tawakul
In all circumvolutions, brows are directed centrally
In the swarm of connectivity, the core remains vacant
Where nothing can reach, such is the solitude there
Where there is no person, no self, no ego
Where there is the boundary of my awareness
There is God! There, too, is God.
A
10.3.17
Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 12:25 AM UTC
*
What is it about poetry
that so consumes you
Brings you to your knees,
cowering in a corner
of your own delusions
Reading in between the lines,
finding what is not really there
Dropping hints of absurd defiance,
collecting spoonful after spoonful
of puzzled meanings and chaliced dreams
Flowing symbolisms, metaphoric landscapes -
Where bushes are bluebirds
and sidewalks - bridges of no return
Why do you reach
into your pocket, searching for love
on white paper folded into a square,
when all along it faces you -
not in ink, but in smiles
expressing exactly what is felt
No boundaries or disguised emotions
penned in rhythmic sequence,
only true love, standing on this sidewalk -
which is only a sidewalk
What is it about poetry
that so consumes you,
when love is waiting – just outside the lines*
Jun 25, 2016
Jun 25, 2016 at 7:56 PM UTC
when all is but gone,
books, words,
reduced to dust and
arbitrary faces I
will remember -
cats.
the absurd
pretension in
every line of
an ee cummings
poem.
every
numbered capital
letter.
and I
will
remember
birthday parties.
the little drummer
boys that made
them.
and the
gibberish that only
made sense when
you read it at night
beneath
flashlights.
and I
will
remember
rickshaws.
make-
believe pavllions.
and tucked away
homes hidden in
ol' Kansas bluegrass
half-
asleep.
we,
still somewhat up
at two
in the morning puttering
away at stories so
easily
forgotten.
it is here
where our
rooms stopped time to
break free of metaphors.
where the metaphors
become symbolisms.
where the symbolisms
become you—
I guess
I’d just like to say
that I
will remember
you.
and thank you.
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 11:26 AM UTC
in the midst of real life we scream our most desperate
dreams
our
passions
on white screens
penned
innocent
symbolisms remain
and you and I
look for rhythm within
our ups and downs
and you and I
lost like ships not knowing
the dark the mornings
is there any port
like the white between
innocent lines
listen.
Jun 8, 2017
Jun 8, 2017 at 2:19 AM UTC
And in these dreary dreadful
Days of January
I often fear that
Whatever fire or passion
That possessed me to write in the preceding months
Is leaving me
I know not how or why
But with everyday that passes it feels as if the fire is burning itself out
But my friends,
Blame it on the weather!
Blame it on the damp and dark and freezing chill
Blame it on the on the news of deaths and the presence of tears
But if you want something to believe, believe in this:
That **** fire won't burn out
Save your Phoenix symbolisms for another day
A Phoenix is born again from its own ashes
And in my heart there will be no ashes
Because this **** fire won't burn out
It's fine to stop singing when your voice cracks and your throat burns but that's no excuse to lose the tune
So when your voice is healed stand your ground and belt out your song
For that fire won't burn out
Then embrace the weather
Embrace the damp the dark and the freezing chill
Embrace the dreary dreadful
Days of January
Where you fear the fire inside flickers and fades
There is nothing controlling that fire but you
And if you have the patience to think and the paper to write
Your fire won't go out
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 3:14 PM UTC
Tendriled nightmares coil
Writhing blind knots
Restrict my inner vision
Peripheral blurred neuroses lurk
Morbid melodramas spin symbolisms
Of a tragic ending
Beyond the memory of moonlight
plaintive note of hope recedes
In the saturnine breeze
I am Lost to lower oscillation
Vestigial presence of the divine
Inert
My racing pulse thrums a dirge
for the waning day
You are the fulcrum
*Levo mihi per vestri lux
The arbitration of angels
My inner spirit luminesces
Hope regains her tenuous place
I turn my tearstreaked face
To the memory of light
**Amo Deus perficio lux
EGO mos orior iterum
TL Boehm
052608
*Lift me with your light
**Like God's perfect light, I will rise again
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 1:24 PM UTC
i
finely found the courtesy
to
read a word of Poetry;
even though it only left me
questioning the Meaning
of the
feeling that it Founded,
endowingly inClining me
to
climb the highest Mountain:
loudly it inSpired me.
writing is my Dowry,
reading is the Marriage
that i
cherish at the merit of
disparaging Diaries.
"i am just a Parrot;
a
parently we share the very
arrogance n carelessness
of
barreling Pirates."
i am just a Sparrow;
rowing over galleries
of
shallow hailing Peril..
..Paralyzed.
"i am just a Shadowing,
Shattering glass."
gallantly we Gather;
"glaringly Gradual."
happily we Harrow.
"inherently Hollow."
powers of eXistence:
symbolisms Tower over
flowers of Ivory.
"i am a Shower".
hours of Shadow;
over-cast horizons
like the
rising of Talos.
"Talos was a GIANT."
i am a just a Cane;
able to be Slain;
david and goLiath.
"i am leViathan."
i am just an Angel.
"April"......May.
Copyright Jesse James Adams
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 2:32 AM UTC
Scribbling the thoughts away again
Finding the perfect combination
Of symbolisms and phrases
To create the perfect illustration
Something to represent
With conciseness and ambiguity
The earth shattering well of emotions
Which you made me go through daily
From too good to be true
Till unlivable complications
I've compared you to pixie dust
Dragon's breath and volcanic eruptions
I've likened what we had to
Child like wonder, make believe, bright eyes
Bed time stories, the attic ghost
Rainbows, unicorns and stormy skies
I kept writing
To preserve what once was perfect
And to release what I can no longer carry
Something which we failed to protect
I've told exactly what happened
In a way that only you would know
I've written so many similar lines
Titled differently just for show
I've promised to stop
To stop writing for you
Yet here I am again
Without anything else to do
With stanzas you'll never read
And proses you'll never hear from me
No more stories, just plain words
Plain final words I hope, no more fantasies
I loved you, I might still do
But what used to be in is almost out
I'm tired, exhausted really, and I've had enough
I loved you, finally my ink is running out
The page filled up with scribbles
Full but empty at the same time
When ink no longer poured out
And words no longer rhymed
I exhaled, finally breathing again
I ran out of words but I'll keep writing
Writing till I don't know when
It may be unbelievable
But it's long overdue
To say that those future metaphors
Will no longer be for you
Feb 24, 2017
Feb 24, 2017 at 10:58 AM UTC
I am the greatest love maker,
But the worst love show-er,
Didn't know what to show her,
So I showered her with petty symbolisms,
A rose, to display the danger and perfection,
A ring, for her everlasting beauty,
A song, to sing from the heart
A thong, to dance in, to prepare romancing,
Shoes, to walk in with class and elegance,
Still not enough
And so I gave,
A watch, so show time is of the essence,
A car, to take her to any destination,
A house, to make home
With A dog, so she’s never alone
Still it wasn’t enough
And so I gave,
A clone of me
So I’m never really gone,
My arms to embrace,
My legs, to stand,
I even gave
My feet and hands.
She rejected everything,
Down to
My skin to hide the inner workings
My bones for supporting
My nerve
My muscles for strength
My height for length
My width for conception
And my depth for protection
You wanted nothing
From the concrete
To abstract
From the start.
What was missing?
You wanted not a thing,
But
My heart.
Oct 1, 2010
Oct 1, 2010 at 12:26 AM UTC
in the midst of real life we scream our most desperate
dreams and passions on white screens
with pens as instruments our symbolisms
remain and you and I
look for rhythm within
or ups and downs
and you and I
are lost between the dark and the mornings
like ships not knowing
where there is any port like the white between
innocent lines
of life
is meant
fact
without an audience
we listen.
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 3:04 AM UTC
effusion on the
melt, lingua franca
of gold.
tongued to the tip
of its flame, twine
of dusted skin--
lit with professing.
pilgrimage's keel over
into otherness, that
far off land.
tried truer than truth
on the lips.
membranous bouquets,
rippling beside rectangular
rain.
patchwork of an amorphous
doorway, administering
symbolisms that outshine
light.
scale's draw, the weight
of open arms met with
like weight.
a kiss such as the forgetfulness
of faces, as if to say: we've
come to this my love--lateness
surrounds.
May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018 at 1:44 PM UTC
this poem is just about a bakeshop.
no allegories
no symbolisms
no idioms
no metaphors.
mother kneads the dough.
she does it so well.
pounding the white clay
with such masterful effort
her hands do not tire.
neither tires her arms.
neither her thighs tremble.
neither her smile
it charms.
mother had been standing there
untiringly since dawn.
and yet she does not stop.
it has been raining incessantly
ever since she woke up
and yet she does not stop.
not even a single costumer appeared
not a single knock on the door
and yet she does not stop.
daughter asked her out already
daughter asked her to close the shop
daughter always says
and with a lot of sense
watching mother work
simply is not worth
the miniscule sells
yet still she does not stop.
daughter asks mother
far too much.
she asks why mother is always smiling
she asks why mother works hard as such
she asks why mother why it was always raining
daughter asks mother
why no one is waiting at the counter?
daughter then followed
where is brother and father?
and finally daughter asks
why no one, for their shop, would bother?
to which mother just replied
"let us simply pray for better weather"
Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 7:04 AM UTC
I understood her symbolisms and archway
of words and visuals that lit a dull day
with fiery sparks of language
written in fluid motions of poetic emotion.
Whichever way I turned she appeared
to stand right there in reason,
her spirit reaching out for my friendship
snuggling closer to the comfort of knowing
where freedom and safety abound.
It will be some time before she returns
to her mechanical life
dreaming of the 6th commandment
and its shattered images
spilling from the fragmented and broken
promises that we made to different partners
in a different time.
We met on an internet highway
straddling two continents
but drawn to each other
by the sheer magnetism of poetry and passion
expressed on the pages of love
with new meanings.
When we part, we will take with us
a fresh new memory bank
of rhymes, rhythms, reasons and romance
to lock away in a vault that has no key.
No one will know what this love meant
to us who crossed the great divide
for that one meeting in secrecy.
Author Notes
A recollection of secret love.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 4:05 PM UTC
<>
/ ( o ) ( o ) \
########
hey Pancho !
Where's Cisco ?
//
And
Can you tell me
Of the peace
You bring to the world (?)
)(
I was borne on the Brooklyn Bridge
son of an angel and the dragon queen
;:;:;
Myth of myths !
( Every Story is revealed )
Every CHILD comes to SAVE
(•)
nation on fire
Nation on fire in a world in flames !
###
oh
Enough of that
Tell me again what you said to your
Boyfriend
After he pulled his thumb out of
Your *** !
( the REAL POETRY !!!!!! )
••
I used to think
HERE AM I IN SAN FRANCISCO
GUARDING THE WEST COAST
WHILE BOB DYLAN IS IN NYC
GUARDING THE EAST COAST
AMERICA !
YOU ARE SAFE !!!!
••
After all the symbolisms are used up
Only REALITY remains
And there I am
With my hands in my pockets walking along
.
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 12:47 AM UTC
Enough
Its been quite the time since Ive felt
The feeling of heavens grace,
Quite the time for some memories
I can never erase
I still remember looking madly at you like
An angel in the night
I still remember the feeling of calmness
Whenever I see you in sight
It has been a long rush of emotions
Catching up to me
A long thrill on how i could ever again
Regain my apathy
Yes, tis true that I’ve regained some fragments
Of myself
Ironic, it feels like an old forgotten book taken
From a shelf
But i digress, with words and symbolisms in the like
I always forget to bring a piece of reality in this
Long and painful hike.
Dont get me wrong, the challenge was
Hard and real
Sometimes a little bit too much of a life that is
Surreal
Every song Ive heard was right about one thing
Its that letting go hurts more in this reality than the Worlds deadliest sting
By the way it wasnt all that bad and savage
Some things happened, like how i mustered up
My courage
Aye its true, for months I’ve been running on fumes
Everything I had on you , love, time, happiness, and emotions, everything caught up to me but eventually, the darkness consumes.
Every moment I thought I had a chance at reaching you is but a lie faced by my own delusions
How did I ever believe that I could walk two steps ahead in holding you when Im always two steps behind with my illusions
Each time I try to get closer , the more you back away
Then I wonder is it me, am I just a toy for someone’s childs-play?
Then again maybe I am, then again maybe I am a lone wolf, gazing towards the moonlight in solitude
All I know Is that time has peeled of the mane of my fortitude
All I am is a beast
A pitiful dog at the very least
You’re not to blame
You dont need to feel shame
Nor pity and despair
Even sadness just be fair
Its just that....
Ive had enough
I can no longer be tough
Im done, I can no longer bluff
The tide’s too rough
No matter how much i climb your mountain of grace
Ive accepted the fall that i can never keep up the pace
My feelings aint gone but its dying to be dead
Time to accept that all this is a trick in my head
Well then, its done, no more words need be said
Stay a gem, you’ve earned that title after all your pressure.
Stay forgetting me, a coal, you can never treasure
I hope someone could fill the hole in your leisure
A happiness that no one can ever measure
I hope you find and stay with
Someone who could take you to an adventure
I hope he is
Someone who you can call forever.
-Mas
Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 6:18 AM UTC
Today I dreamt with ghosts and butterflies.
Both shared contrasting symbolisms
Glowing in dark transparency
Or hidden-ly invisible?
I'm lonely in the classroom.
Nobody is interested in me.
I'm wearing a bright blue sky shirt
with my upper botton unbuttoned
letting my hair go oblivious
to the bullets that are being shot through.
I don't know what's wrong in people:
they love the unlovable
they like the unlikely.
Shallow portraits of intimate light
getting lost in the flinch of an eye.
And
just like that: my dream dissapears.
Right where the sun meets the sky
and the tales of the night
flicker, in the bright moonlight.
Apr 16, 2020
Apr 16, 2020 at 3:23 AM UTC