"tasseled" poems
Touch it: it won't shrink like an eyeball,
This egg-shaped bailiwick, clear as a tear.
Here's yesterday, last year ---
Palm-spear and lily distinct as flora in the vast
Windless threadwork of a tapestry.
Flick the glass with your fingernail:
It will ping like a Chinese chime in the slightest air stir
Though nobody in there looks up or bothers to answer.
The inhabitants are light as cork,
Every one of them permanently busy.
At their feet, the sea waves bow in single file.
Never trespassing in bad temper:
Stalling in midair,
Short-reined, pawing like paradeground horses.
Overhead, the clouds sit tasseled and fancy
As Victorian cushions. This family
Of valentine faces might please a collector:
They ring true, like good china.
Elsewhere the landscape is more frank.
The light falls without letup, blindingly.
A woman is dragging her shadow in a circle
About a bald hospital saucer.
It resembles the moon, or a sheet of blank paper
And appears to have suffered a sort of private blitzkrieg.
She lives quietly
With no attachments, like a foetus in a bottle,
The obsolete house, the sea, flattened to a picture
She has one too many dimensions to enter.
Grief and anger, exorcised,
Leave her alone now.
The future is a grey seagull
Tattling in its cat-voice of departure.
Age and terror, like nurses, attend her,
And a drowned man, complaining of the great cold,
Crawls up out of the sea.
41.9k
******* in you nose can do that,
This is the rosebush, the fuschia,
the striding spiderweb of summer.
Your trees from the ocean and sky,
and sepals turned sences.
A spindle-spinning wheel,
turning sunflowers to liquid honey,
yum - yum - yum !
Oh the tastes of nature,
hidden in burrow holes,
with small mice chittering their teeth,
through chestnut temples!
A crucified sunflower, soft-spoken ochre,
the pumpkins turning fields to dust
and growing seeds of castles.
Three blades of grass in
tasseled soil.
Three green-squash faces
among the fields burgundy,
growing eyeballs.
Viola splashes wave,
Palo Santo fragrance,
Filling the nostrils with
Happiness!
Day-to-day ecstatic twirls
Twists and twirls,
a steep staircase to
the waterfall's epicenter.
The soul of the falls tumbling
across the sealed creek,
oiled with the feathers of soils.
The queen of frozen loganberries
gazes with approval,
watching seperate streams congeal, spiral,
and form starry nights
beneath the sky.
Lime scent comforting
the ☀ of rivers!
Written by: Lotus and Simon
May 27, 2012
May 27, 2012 at 4:16 PM UTC
"The thought of the future we will never have was pollinating foul fuzzy particles in the air, slowly following the wake of all those tasseled dreams I had held onto for all those years but had to let go."
The most intimate revelations can often expose plagiaristic suppressions that we've most likely tried to already forget. Suggesting to anyone on the outside looking in, that there is a rancid cowardice secreting from the pores of all those who would deny the most basic of fundamental decencies to their fellow man.
All the while, boasting a loud tolerance that would be found on the very last Autumn-the very last colorful arrangements of watering oranges and smothered reds our world was ever going to be privileged to witness again.
The thundering drumming of my own beating heart gave my freshly dead and bland reaction a neon personality, with a few extra ********* lingering, successful gestures that reflected a sparkly prism of tracers.
Tracers that were birthed from the most brilliant of lasers, as I was radiating something that was blindingly gorgeous, something that was heightened with more sensitivity as it shadowed over the complexity of every kiss that I had ever been given in my life..
Spinning a silk and gold web around me that was almost as intricate as an alarm sounding earth quake.
This flaccidly tight response came at a price, leaving nothing but whispers and the wrong kind of impressions at the sight of it's unwanted face..
The time of dignity and grace felt decades away as your tiny little temperaments began to attempt to soothe me into a very still silence.
"Wooing" me and "seducing" me with such a strong touch of romantic readiness, I knew it would never be matched or found again causing me to feel a stroke of sadness at the single sentiment.
This dramatic departure killed any interest that might have supported the abortive sorrows and short winded elation’s of men, but instead the idea of a possibly new tasseled dream, sparked me into a shimmering prism bouncing glittering, glimmering, glowing rays off my skin, as I put the shine in the sun.
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 3:30 PM UTC
Remember the days of easy innocence, where summer was our whiskey
The sky of red and orange and pale purple as the sun set was intoxicating
"Light the fire!" she cries, her hair a golden flame of itself, tasseled and wild-
"Lord of the flies," now she cries, "lord of the flies"
And sometimes we'd be alone but never lonely
Or at least we never realized
Lady Southwest with the chestnut eyes
She's missed it all but somehow endured-
And here I am
I linger on the wonder of little things, and hide behind my boundaries with thoughts that nothing could ever harm me, here
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 12:03 AM UTC
Your forked soul and tasseled persona,
Penetrated through the orifice of anomaly;
Intelligible; Marked by an insane cognition,
Quadrangle of engrossment preceded by revolutions.
~F.A
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 5:14 PM UTC
the fabric of her dress
clinging to a garden
of flowers
holding the contours
of her landscape
with blends
around the corner bush
for his pleasing material eye
she spreads
tempestuous the vine
colors of the rainbow
arching
along
contemporaneous
as the wallflower awakens
to the erecting wall
and winding trellises
tasseled are the tongues
as the songbirds
come to coo
Logan Robertson
3/19/2019
Mar 19, 2019
Mar 19, 2019 at 8:51 AM UTC
It is in my conscious stream to speak of restricted words
the kind, that hang off your two separate lips quietly
that usually hold hands in that scrutinizing silence
the beauty of these two things my eyes find hard to hold
may you come to me on blazed days, and shivered nights
with the wisdom of owls, and teach me all the things life has taught you
and show me your scars from that faint childhood
and tell me about the beautiful lands you wish to immerse your body into
may I be blessed enough, that you - glorious you
sacrifice your time to simply stare at the immense turquoise of the sea with me
the veins in a leaf, the memories written on tomb stones
I hope to figure out the secret paths of your garden labyrinth
to find your white beaches and leave but a footprint upon the shore of your inner arms
at night, I find the most joy in asking you to look at the stars
for when met with your eyes, they burn brighter and become shy with your beauty
they scatter and hide behind each other. The moon envies me.
She dances in the sky
gloriously.
your hair unravels like a bush of silk
harmoniously tasseled out in the sun and when you smile
fruits of labor fall off the corners of your comely mouth
all of natures most passionate things are instilled in you
you are every season of the year
every phase of the moon and rotation of the sun
the rain that I stand under
the waterfall I fall asleep too
the immense darkness of the night that inspires me
your eyes taut, like black diamonds - your tears benitoite
even that from you is something to be admired
I wish to be a leafless tree standing somewhere
in the outskirts of your world
Aug 17, 2011
Aug 17, 2011 at 1:29 AM UTC
what if we were castle turrets?
our tasseled but torn flags whipping the clouds,
dragons tearing off the shingles
with their nostalgic disorders.
we could be sagittarius.
emerging from the groves with purple,
bruised collarbones
only because they stretched miles within
our bodies like archers' bows, bitten
& shooting unintended victims.
which i guess is what i was always scared of,
mulling your jeans around in my room
and eating frozen strawberries alone,
staining my fingers with more than just
your sharpie-written love letters.
milky-white plant smoke can permeate hands
just like your smell can permeate my canyons,
sending tremors inside of their fibers
giving us scars that we don't like to burden,
sending rocks into our jagged feelings.
what if we were golden like our naked skin
under the olive branches that inevitably
mean hate, anger, shame, and the bee sting
of slaps from loved ones?
diamonds can pour through our smiles,
fill our upturned palms
and give the rubies of our tattoos to a shrouded god.
i've been listening to song lyrics & hurricanes,
& i understand now.
i understand what it would feel like
to belong to someone.
Jun 26, 2011
Jun 26, 2011 at 10:09 PM UTC
(How Do I Write Of Thee?)
I always asked myself then:
"How do i write of thee?"
...how do I start?
...where do I start?
i am an expert on being mum,
but, i must write of thee,
and I do...the way i know---
simple-worded thoughts
coming straight from my heart...
honest, innocent lines,
bare...unaffected,
no false pretenses
not much metaphors
at times, none at all...
maybe, none is needed,
i just want to reach out,
a message, i want to impart.
"What would i write of thee?"
i equally wondered...
didn't know then how to hide behind words
to mean "i," or "me," by saying "you,"
to show "happy" in words,
when the truth is bright and tasseled with "pain,"
but, i had to start........and so, i learned
to write of thoughts i am most familiar with,
they are like second skin to me,
i write about the beauty of nature
that surrounds and comforts me,
i write of sleepless nights,
of distances not bridged,
existing and failed expectations,
hanging conversations
dwelling within...safely cradled.
Deep, in the hidden corners of my mind
are thoughts very, very private,
some written...
some, yet to be written,
all unspoken of.
they are gentle whispers,
soothing,
unequaled moments,
sweet, sweet words,
a balm to my aching soul.
One day,
when i am too old to care,
these journals would be beyond my hold
and find their own way out,
to be shared...absorbed...understood
in a whole new different perspective,
these words shall be
i m m o r t a l i z e d
when i close my eyes for good.
people shall read about me,
and finally will know
that once,
in my lifetime,
I had written
My One Immortal Poem.
June 7, 2014---12:09 PM
Sally
Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 6:08 AM UTC
blue checkered jacket
the cloth faded.
kneeling onto yesterday
holding on to tomorrow
her leathery tan hands cup
a wrinkled tired face.
the white tasseled hair and the bulbous nose.
hope has left her eyes,
the light has turn to rain.
beneath a torn brown skirt
short varicose bowed legs
forever journey to no place.
everything she owns in a big paper bag.
She has no home.
Nov 18, 2016
Nov 18, 2016 at 4:28 PM UTC
With tangled toes and tasseled twirls
You spoke to me in silence
Alone
you are invincible
Together
we are unstoppable
and I realize
how much I need you.
Jan 14, 2021
Jan 14, 2021 at 1:01 PM UTC
Mentally dismantled
Spiritually a bundled
Cranium tasseled
Failed attainment
Craze by the crowds
Oh how I feel demised
Trained by the master
Hidden intellect
Chosen few has heard
Chosen few has experienced
Life changing words
Brain is so superb
Tongue twisters is a love spot for the genuis that is her
She is her
Her is me
Her is you
Her is us
Her is many
Many of the intellects
Many of the power holders
Many of the strong
Many of her
Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 7:23 PM UTC
Everyone knows its a bad part of town,
no one lives there by choice.
Its this place called The Heat
down at the corner of holy gate
and 1-deuce-deuce.
There a girl there,
her real names Lucinda,
they say friends call her luci,
which is short for Lucifer,
and she works in The Heat
which is slick for hell.
They say she's called bass
"cause it look'a like a wide mouth bass
smell 'bout da same"
Nicknames and false alibis.
Luci works the Heat on taco Tuesdays.
They say she'll serve it hot for ten a song.
Fish taco Tuesdays.
They joke that it always smells like tuna anyways
even without fish taco Tuesdays.
They say on a good Friday,
The Heat almost becomes bearable
and every body watches old bass
swinging widemouthed and tasseled
around every pole in the bar.
But I can't bare it,
the kind of sadness in places like this
where they serve up breakfast
and Tuesday specials
for ten dollars a song.
Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 8:09 PM UTC
A man lost his leg in a dark spell
and a dinner plate sits in a dry spot
30 years of love soaked lung choked,
"I can't live without my eyes" life!
It's a tied or be tied world
a king prays in the morning
and stars connect his wishes
tasseled, sparkle, with
blood of shaking soft hands
A man lost his leg in a dark spell
a caravan station unfolds its carpet
a pegged ***** grinds for metal
and a sandpaper shoe floats in the creek
a bluejay whispers to the soil
and a soul catches an eye
hunger taken and a spirit flies
to morphing masses and flowing skies
flowing skies
A man lost his leg in a dark spell
as a green legged woman fell into the moon
a clasp of a watch was finally won
with fevered letters and hammered guns
filtered suns
filtered suns
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 6:58 AM UTC
The blue and white woven thread
Sits comfortably close
tasseled ends exotic
clinging seductively
Falling too easily.
Who needs pants?
Apr 15, 2019
Apr 15, 2019 at 4:55 PM UTC
Cow
You got a good cow?
Yeah, this one's got enough shy
Won't overextend her *** onto your tongue.
Yeah?
But she's ready to express.
Donkey
They killed the donkey
who did the donkey work
now the flood cannot be stemmed
too bad the horse is so ill equipped
the donkey work to collapse to plan B:
complacency is asking for it.
Wife
The farmer's wife keeps the trough filled
Her family all feed there, friend too
Hungry ********
She somehow feeds another
via the backdoor.
Red
The rooms all have this red glow
The men degrade themselves
A candle drips hot wax, moaning
Black leather and tasseled whips
Keeping the tapeworm alive.
Backstage
The visionary talks of truth, talks his head off
of hidden things and backstage agenda
There's now a fourth world status
in the back alleys of overcrowded slums
all overdosed on honeyed impressions.
Detour
High castles for preachers and glass houses for the rest
Some contend with deliberate detours to escape
dark dreamers in once rustic countryside towns.
Abstract
Behold the executioner, removes the mask
The plot unravels, poor boy blade in gums
Coerced to perform things, ends in *****
Head in the desert; one jolt and jump away.
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 1:25 PM UTC
Paraphrasing:
Oxygen feedback don’t
provoke me;
I relieve
all the need
plasticized lips to a
nail gun at
your forebrain
steal yourself a jacket;
don’t **** around
my home
when the freeze
follows every
sinkhole step
your fat toes
fall away
Let me de-muck
that nonsense:
Met a gal,
I did
name was Hannah,
spat mucosal ****
between my duck feet
And my tasseled spine
H e av e d, hu rrr led at
T he s i g ht o f
M y s ki n
But I cracked and ground
my molars and I
gobbled that aching
dejection & snickering
and commanded she
****
vanish
so it was
OK
for **** near three seconds
three
two
one
till she re-arrived
and rebuked a gull’s shade
for looking too much like
me and I
loved
her
now and
again and
three second
place trophies ago
she brushed me first
with that formidable
brilliance
a third of what
that beauty,
****
that body
was gifted with
poison
that leeched
through palms
to my nerves
them bones
and out again
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 8:51 AM UTC
As I shut my eyes and close the doors of this world,
I lay in my bed and like a caterpillar I curled,
Nestled between the soft clean white sheets,
Last thing I know I have feel asleep as I hear the rush of cars on the busy streets,
I suddenly escape and enter into a world never seen before,
A world of beauty delight, and the purist of scenery,
The skyline as it sets from a teal blue to a golden yellow,
The roaring vibrant orange fading into a pink,
I am sitting on logs, laying my head upon wood chips,
One hand behind my head as I fill my lungs with the fresh air,
The air I can breath in without the fear of pollutants,
Before my very eyes I see a rocket of shooting stars,
My eyes glitter seeing them as they pass,
I shout to my mates as they run to lay and watch with me as mesmerized as I,
Violently shook, was the instant ticket from that world,
Seeing the tasseled white sheets, my vision blurred,
And like that suddenly within an eyes blink,
Not for a moment was I to think,
I was back to the same crummy thing I call life.
This world right here is a strife.
Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 9:55 PM UTC
It was like we were two old friends
Sharing insights on a shiny green lawn.
We would come here again, I knew
In our own red garments and tasseled hats.
All I know is that
As you smiled so genuinely I found
There was no one I would rather see the end of adolescence with.
We are kindred spirits, you and I.
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 4:12 AM UTC
have avoided all attempts
neatly gift-wrapped box
no innocent bystander
my own shapeless crinkling
paper bags or newspapers
crunched around clumsy mechanics
a garage built go-cart racer
tie with shoelaces
rubber bands and bread twisties
bike wheels in back
forward red wagon wheel
reconverted down side shafts
coiling and wrenching
back to cab meeting
half a broomstick handle bar
tasseled dangly pom-poms
painted on sheet metal hood
1014 signifying day we met
skidding each other's hearts
last year’s soap-box derby
not a pretty package
but when you open up and see
marvelous flaming paints
spinning our memories
I hope you know
you are my burning desire
Shall we blast it one last time?
I’ll make those vroom-vroom sounds
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 11:48 AM UTC
cool crisp air
shows only hilltops
clouds roll low
through the valley
fanned by flocks
of silhouette birds
fields slowly emerge
tasseled stalks, orange gourds
ready for the harvest
other colors then the greens
break out in different spots
summers end brings thoughts
of cold which comes too soon
but yet some beauty still awaits
before the still cold white
all the rainbow but the blues
comes crashing to the ground
the smell of russet leaves
an air of reminiscence
the sound a shuffle makes
through knee high brown
all hands at work to rake
and jump and fill past full
find the perfect pumpkin
in a field full of them
yet one stands out
ready for the slaughter
with a jagged smile
Oct 15, 2015
Oct 15, 2015 at 2:32 PM UTC
Here I sit
In range of admiration
Your skin immaculately velvet
Your hair messily tasseled
Your gravity seizes my attention
My distraction
I want to be close to you
The warmth your body exudes
The rhythmic rise and fall of your chest
Your beating heart near to mine
My north star
But here I am
There you are
The distance so mere
Yet it feels like a universe
My loneliness
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 1:09 AM UTC
I.
I see the basin
The river
The dirt and filth on All
Some look like raisin
they shiver
As their world would shrink so small
I see the Lamb
The Angel
The Hexagram or crossed poles
II.
My mother told me to wear red on that day
Though she wore yellow
My mother told me not to yell on that day
Oh, how she curtailed a fellow
My father wasn't to be seen that day
At that time he was scarce as a swallow
I think my father wore green that day
and so unlike my mother he could never wallow
III.
"Ark.."
Shiver
Sacred Candles
The voice coaxed up from the mountains
"Love...Thorn...Cup"
Purple Tasseled Majesty
IHS They say. Were the others?
Feb 12, 2014
Feb 12, 2014 at 8:14 PM UTC