"tauntingly" poems
Birds in cages are immortalized in poetry,
in wordy melancholy and round top cages beside
windows tauntingly open to the mountains, the
earthy smell of wheat and the breezy ocean air.
Hundreds of perturbed human eyes press close against brass,
mooning with open mouths and dry lips
cooing baby-talk bird-calls in hope of a
crying return, like a blessing,
or a soft forgiveness.
Outside,
Lovebirds are doves and songbirds.
They commune with owls and storks
and perch on branches, all the better to coo
and cry to the loving, glowing moon.
Anger, jealousy, and fright are all stones. They are heavy
and they have no place in the bellies of skybirds.
Caged birds have jealousy and clipped wings,
brass bars bent into tiny atmospheres, but canaries
carry bile in their beaks, beady black eyes watching
changing seasons with singing spite.
I am and have always been a swallow,
all creamy white belly and a thousand
creeping kinds of brown.
I wish to stay up, up for a thousand hours
in the realm of thought. In your thoughts,
I wish to be the voice whispering stories to you
from inside your precious head, curved
lovingly above me like an unending sky.
I am wings and feathers and I am full of things
that I desire much much more than air.
Oct 13, 2010
Oct 13, 2010 at 5:21 PM UTC
staying up late just thinking of all the could-beens and should-beens that could and should have been us.
what if we'd tried a little harder? persisted a little longer? held on to each other as tightly as we should have?
would you be by my side then, instead of the empty void staring tauntingly back at me?
would our hands be clasped together, interwoven,
your eyes that once bored right back into the back of mind haunting me wherever i would go,
your touch tattooed into the skin of my palms as they once were?
what if i hadn't let go?
what if i'd learnt fate's cruel lesson that
possessing the trait of fickleness never awarded anything but everything slipping past, earlier?
would you be willing to stay with me then, and forgive me for all the wrongdoings that i would inevitably cause?
would we have ever evolved into more than just an idealized dream drawn from a fragmented memory,
the idea of an irrevocable love that despite having been mulled over for what would've seemed like an eternity,
has never seen the light of reality before?
then again, everything does appear only better when it's all in your head.
when i can still pretend that you are who i expect you to be,
and i may be accepted for who i am truly,
excess baggage of unneeded insecurities and imperfections weighing me down and all.
is it better to be cleanly rejected or to be
torn down bit by bit,
night by night,
spent just staring at a blank screen and waiting,
hovering over imperishably,
pure naive hope fuelling the drive to continue delaying the inexorable?
foolishly believing that crossed fingers and
any lingering feelings that hadn't yet been sieved away by the
jaded culture we exist and drown in today
would perhaps, even if accidentally,
as if out of a fairytale that i starkly don't belong to,
send me a text back?
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 7:06 PM UTC
Observing the outside world from a forbidden screen
Listening to the wind tauntingly, calling upon me
Come and dance with I
It would plead
Beckoning me to join the dancing leaves
Leaving my shadows behind the trees
-EC
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 1:29 AM UTC
We struck a match
But before
We could light
Anything
With it,
The flame
Danced and swayed
Tauntingly
As it burned
Itself away.
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 4:00 AM UTC
"c'mon! i dare you," i repeat more tauntingly than the last
and pull the trigger, he did.
the gasp i let out echoed.
he couldn't have intended on killing me, right?
that was just to make me suffer a little..
he knew how many bullets there were, right?
"right. there. i just made you suffer a little."
no biggie
Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 4:33 AM UTC
some winter mornings
last through the spring,
sweeping in between wind chimes
and dusting over windowsills,
until our bodies are numb
and our minds are racing
i don't feel pain in the winter time,
pain feels me,
all curled up in the fetal position
with fuzzy socks
and war paint
at the edge of my sheets
december never stings,
it burns.
a softer,
quieter,
gentler
kind of agony
that whispers tauntingly
through the shower curtains
at 5 am and says
"why did you bother getting out of bed?"
oh and how that cold, cutting voice
gets stuck inside your head...
at least until spring takes
it's last cool breath
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 12:14 PM UTC
I have very little memory of my childhood,
But I do remember grade 3
And a boy who’s name I cannot recall
The class’ clown; making the other children laugh with utter fear,
He was big and stood over me with his shaved head,
*You’re a ******* idiot* He whispered tauntingly
You are the dirt on my sneakers
I never really responded to his cutting humor
Except for that cold white after noon
When that eary bell rang with urgency,
And from the corner of my eye I watched
The flocks of children running for the school
Slipping and trampling over each other
Squeezing through the doors,
While janitors buttered the doorway.
We didn’t move.
He slouched over me with his thumbs sticking out of his pockets
His scalp was raw, and cherry red.
*I’m going to **** you.*
I said it making sure there was enough phlegm in my throat
His face lit up with a ridiculous smile
*I am going to ******* **** you*
He roared with laughter, and took me by the hair
Then spat in my eye.
And if it wasn’t for my instinct to live, I would’ve stuck him
With the plastic pen I’ve been sharpening for 2 weeks
Instead I tasted the strawberry jam wedged in the crook of my mouth
Along with blood that slowly seeped through the cracks in my lips
Little does he know, I have been plagued with madness
And I will **** him
…Eventually
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 4:54 PM UTC
it lurks in a whisper
in the biting of cold breeze
it is tauntingly hollow
and fills me with unease
creeping, crawling, undetected
because of it's sly nature
sometimes i can make it go,
but it only comes back later
voices screaming in my head
"you're nothing" and it's true...
you'll never ever understand
because it hasn't happened to you
it will not be much longer
i soon will be at ease
but the stinging pain will persevere
in the biting of cold breeze.
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 3:55 PM UTC
The rusty car door creaks open.
Kicked it closed, but now we're trapped.
Up above, rain tauntingly quenches us;
Down below, a cliff brings sweet demise.
Two days since our food expired.
Our voices and bodies stretched thin
Tied to deflated clouds by silver lining.
The whirs of doubt tempt us to jump
And for a moment we invited death's warm embrace.
But a low growl, from stomachs and throats, and back we go.
Down our aimless journey
Frail as needles, we pierce every haystack,
Hoping above hope that we shall dine again.
Jul 4, 2011
Jul 4, 2011 at 10:23 AM UTC
Anchored at the berth
For centuries
attempting
to gracefully
Slip the mooring
A distant yesterday's whisper
Evanesced
now steadfast
As if bewitched by the galaxy
Unaware of the
contiguous
Land and liberation
Tauntingly so
rooted
Refusing to be liberated
Time and time
Unnoticed
invictus
again it slips from moon to sun
And time has stood still for so long
It has become
Interchangeable
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 3:27 PM UTC
In the darkest of our valleys
By dark angels demented,
‘Twas once a regal temple -
Serene spring - tauntingly tormented.
A Queen in her Domain,
It stood there!
Under Lock and Chain;
A maiden so fair!
Lavender curtains laden;
On this Temple may flow
Along the Times of this Maiden -
In the ****** snow.
And every gentle air in that field,
Of Doomsday,
From the Black Rose’s shield -
Their aroma passed away.
Witnessing this Ominous blolly;
Through luminous windows -
Spirits sing in melancholy,
In the malicious meadows.
Upon this throne I bore;
A tintinnabulation of air -
Befitting glory’s chore,
Of this realm’s affair.
With many a jewel gleaming,
Against the Temple door -
The River’s light came beaming,
Sparkling for evermore.
A troop of Angels; on their duty,
At my doorbell, sing -
For the Silent beauty,
Who burdens the King.
Then, the Reaper came,
Along the Temple’s River -
For the distressed dame;
And the sorrows within her quiver.
Above this temple of glory,
Sagacious scenes bloomed -
Of the maiden’s story,
The clergy that loomed.
Now; Within that valley -
Through the reddened windows see,
Figures dancing delicately;
To her disbanded melody.
The river - now a pale white,
Is her decor,
Night’s sweetest silent fright -
And flows - Nevermore.
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 4:13 PM UTC
Waking in darkness to brainstorming moments
Warm under covers on this freezing morn,
Recalling the instants of yesterday’s sequences,
How they developed and how they were born……
*“Moving with grace in a form fitting garment,
Curves in the shadow light tauntingly near,
Beautiful lines in a moment of weakness
Titillate senses erotically clear.”
“Watching the mouth of the bigoted warbler,
Watching him spout his idolatry spiels,
Rhetoric of mind bending, **** licking garbage
Image of self is the place that he kneels.”
“Urgency now with insurances deadline
Making provision for payments now due,
Juggle the baksheesh for paying the piper
Or the cruelty of bankers will cauterise you!”
“Laughter arouses the happiest moments
Merriment opens the faces so well,
Emotively gracious the giving of laughter
Contagiously, wonderfully ringing the bell.”
"Uncomfortably caught in the midst of an untruth
Unconscionably really, can’t call it a lie,
Got caught in momentum of tale in the telling
Upsetting me now to the point where I cry.”
"Can’t recall why, but I know there’s a matter,
Ripping my britches to try to recall….
Something importantly, now to be dealt with
Frustratingly lost in the fog of it all.”
"Harmonies rise like a mist in the temple
Delicate cadences rise and they fall,
I wonder why God allows this unbeliever
To sing with the Angels in his Holy hall?”
“Running my fingertips over her curvature
Feeling the ***** line plummet to fall
Knowing the thrill of elicit collusion
Anticipate promise of wanting it all.”*
Sudden alarm in the midst of a waking
Urgency calls at the dawn of the day,
Heaving my soul into frost waiting fingers
Leaving my dreams in the warmth where they lay.
Marshalg
“Pukehana Paradise”
Auckland NZ.
22 June 2013
Jun 21, 2013
Jun 21, 2013 at 6:40 PM UTC
in the tauntingly quiet
florescent hospital hum
waiting for a hospice bed
people floated in and out
along with the scents of disinfectant and Salisbury steak
all spoke, in muted tones, words moving
through the liquid silver air of the night
they would squeeze your hand, gently
maybe casting a glance my way
before they walked into the dead vinyl tile halls
to the white squeaking sounds of faceless nurses’ shoes
where the obligated visitors would
breathe a proverbial sigh of relief
for they did not want to be there
at the moment
at the horizon between the slits in your eyes
imagining the ones behind the walls
and across the hills you would never again see
I would be there,
recalling horizons we had seen together
perhaps with you in my arms
before words built walls between us
and years were soaked up like desert rain
after seasons of doubt and drought
I wondered if you would ask me again
or if I would say yes this time
and if that would be enough
to release you
surely, I gave you life
another father and I both did, I suppose
could I take it as well
if you asked me again,
to increase the drowsing drip
of modern Morpheus’ elixir?
Nov 28, 2011
Nov 28, 2011 at 10:42 PM UTC
This truest love, triumphantly
is a bird of prey
marauding 'twain these grayest skies and tenured gain
dine with blessed distinction,
feathered queen!
And any mice caught in between-
For does my love in summer's rain
prey on the solace of my nightly dreams
Do gauge my love as span of wings
the distance 'tween each finger
Her wings are spread and through the sky
she soars in arcs and swirls
Each and every blissless night,
she passes coyly o'erhead,
The curtain in my blood unfurls
and this presence ever lingers-
Perched aloof and tauntingly in a bending oak
she says: "These stars that hover
above the sky I disbelieve-
Their palaver, quaint and lasting,
I disbelieve-
They grip and guide my flutters as an ever-tightn'ng yoke."
Each hand I place o'er the other,
'til each branch is a rung, ladder to the moon.
Said: "And coldly does this horrib' moon smile,
she laughs 'til my tail is the dust
each stroke of hours and minutes speak to me
this cunning moon pours in our hearts this lust-
How could these shambles any trust?"
This sky, though blacken'd,
cannot rend apart what's happened,
and all it sees with terrible eyes
can prevent not this love fore'er mend-
She glode politely out o' reach,
To soar delightly by me-
Said: "I see the jilted morning glory
bowing to the moon.
Each stalk twines traitoriously
a capsulating swoon-
Each fruit it bears bequeathes 'nto me
callous forms of elliptic bracts,
eats as nothing more than flax-"
For every morning glory's betray'l
I'll harvest ten thousand Orchids from the meadow's fringe,
plucked from the margins of the bog-
This love is not a passing arc
that follows does that jealous moon-
I'll trek the acid, foy an' dinge,
and, if those mice do not erstwhile dine on this orchid's seeds,
that which lays dormant, 'neath the leaves
will send up freshly blooming stalks.
May 22, 2010
May 22, 2010 at 6:59 PM UTC
As you sit to look at your calendar,
Something once overflowing,
Is now becoming more and more
Tauntingly blank.
In a place between the end of something
And the start of the next thing
Stuck in what feels like a hiatus
As you sit to look at your calendar,
Something once overflowing,
Is now becoming more and more
Tauntingly blank.
In a place between the end of something
And the start of the next thing
Stuck in what feels like a hiatus
Bit by bit,
Your calendar starts to fill again
This time it fills with things for you
You and only you
Your calendar,
It has more white than before
But now the white looks like snow
Instead of the ice from before.
Apr 25, 2021
Apr 25, 2021 at 8:07 AM UTC
I walked along Fraser against the wind.
At 32nd there was a “for sale” sign
zip ties around the top and one side to keep it still.
I wondered what would happen first,
the L shaped sign post falling down
or the sign itself flying away.
The memory resurfaced, gasping,
the dull ache of an old cut
hurting only if you think about it for too long.
It was a sunny day,
though it couldn't have been summertime,
we moved in May.
I bet it was a Tuesday
perhaps a Wednesday.
I remember that everything seemed rather bright,
the leaves on the bushes were jade,
the evergreens hiding tiny flowers.
The walk way,
a twisted tongue,
ran from the porch stairs to the decrepit sidewalk.
It must have been a little bit windy
making the sign sway and dance tauntingly,
because my dad took the “for sale” sign as a personal offense,
the contempt swinging gently from the wooden stake.
It had been up for days, or weeks, or months,
I don't remember anymore.
I don't know if he directed anything ****** or hostile to the inanimate object,
but he attacked it as it hung lazily over the lawn.
I do know that it came down,
bringing up clumps of dirt as it fell.
It stayed down until all our boxes
and toys
and beds
and shelves
were long gone from the rooms
in the spackled white bungalow
where I learned to ride my bike and dance in the rain.
It could still be seen through the front windows,
it stayed on the dandelion covered grass.
I'm not sure how my dad took it down
but it stayed there and laughed at us.
I don't know why I remembered that,
but it kind of hurt and I had to write about it.
Mar 3, 2013
Mar 3, 2013 at 3:17 PM UTC
and now i’m drenched in desire.
feral and writhing at the hand that feeds me
and everyone always feeds me.
there’s no use in waiting
or wading in the grass
yet, i still feel the blades upon my back
every drop of wet wet dew caresses me
and the breeze shimmers me tauntingly.
now, i twist and contort at the touch of something new
and it rises up in me,
this new longing,
this new pining.
won’t you satisfy me?
won’t you give me what i deserve?
and i know that i will see you again
under the shade of the night
covered in sticky sweat
and love’s delight.
and until then,
nothing else will satisfy me.
nothing can compare.
and soon, so soon,
you will own my flesh
and you’ll have me, rare.
Jul 22, 2025
Jul 22, 2025 at 9:39 PM UTC
(I am woken up by her honey-sweet voice in the morning.)
She: Good morning honey!
Me: Good morning baby!
(I yawn my mouth wide as I say that.)
(She smiles & replies tauntingly as she pulls my ear lovingly.)
She: Seems you had a laborious night!
Me: Yeah, a really laborious one indeed.
(Even I smile as I remember the last night; full of spice.)
(Now she bends towards the side-table and fetches coffee.)
She: Hmmm... I've prepared coffee for you darling, you were asleep.
Me: Oh dear, should I say thanks or kiss you again!?
(I move my body forward from the sheets craning my neck - the cutlery makes tinkling noise.)
(She cackles and barely maintains her balance as she retracts herself.)
She: Seems you're still undone, my naughty boy!
Me: Ah! How truer could you be, kiss me again!
(I offer my lips as I take the cup offered by her.)
(She smiles and just gives a brief peck on my lips with hers.)
She: *Now we should get our day started, otherwise we'd get late.*
Me: *What did you just say!? We'd get laid? Oh I'd love to!*
(I muster an apt piece of laughter for both of us.)
(She looks even more angelic as she laughingly pulls both my ears & cheeks.)
She: Get out of the bed, you naughty boy!
Me: Aye-aye madam! And I'll be hungry soon after getting done with my morning duties.
(I say greedily to invite another sweet smile from my angel-faced woman.)
(She seems to be ready for that and says in a learned manner.)
She: So my dear hubby, what would you have for breakfast?
Me: I'd have you with cheese & salt, milk & sugar and lots of love!
(I say that cheekily hoping to make her blush.)
(She blushes and turns towards the kitchen, I follow to help her.)
Jun 24, 2013
Jun 24, 2013 at 4:59 AM UTC
I am counting off my hands
the men I cannot love,
but hold forever in gold plated frames.
My sirens call an unheard song,
that puts these men to sleep at dawn;
they dream in colors of the fall.
Before each night,
I count their eyes to see with vivid light
a woman cursed with sight.
But Love is blind,
for we cannot know exactly what we're living for
or who it is we're dieing for.
And Love is a bird
with black, dusty wings that tauntingly rap my window;
Poe's raven calling "Never more."
Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 3:04 PM UTC
dear wife of former marriage will you be
entrenched forever in your hidden spite,
against your former husband tauntingly
in flaunting other men who are more right,
when each succeeding man, like one before,
has failed as per his character so wrong,
who rush so passionately through your door,
and exit likewise at your final gong,
while all the while the husband whom you left,
so steadfast here remains the best of them,
yet suffers silently of wife bereft,
a prince among a crowd of pauper men,
open your eyes and see what you once knew,
i hold the only heart that loved you true
(C)2012, Christos Rigakos
Jun 22, 2012
Jun 22, 2012 at 7:16 PM UTC
*I hear the shadow of a song
Lilting faintly in half light,
Just beyond my reach it lays
Tauntingly, as lust's delight.
It tiptoes, teasing, through my ear
Tantilizing recollection sought,
Bringing images to mind
Of indelible delight unbought.
I hear the shadow of a song
Which sweeps me to dimension new,
Sweeps me to a nicer place
To memories of long, lost you.*
Marshalg
24 August 2013
Aug 23, 2013
Aug 23, 2013 at 5:30 PM UTC
A relief in a way
blank like a sheet of paper, nay not paper, a tree uncut
not yet even paper
gasping tendrils cannot form, cannot be voiced
housing no muse, reaching out to smoke
a relief in a way
also a curse
when naught brings life but words
what is it my mind is seeking
holding onto endless vague emotions
they wave tauntingly across a vast distance
sneering, as I chase them across an arid desert
through treacherous mountain passes
always a few dances ahead, mocking me in my limbo
where is my emotion
I feel it tearing me to pieces
at what is it directed
Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 8:22 PM UTC
*I close my eyes;
Satin tree breath gently
Tousling my hair in the middle
Of a green ocean; A bright
Globe of smiles placing
One on my face.
I see voices all around me,
Music stretching its legs
While colors dance tauntingly
Around it.
I open my eyes and laugh
At the way I've chosen to see
The world today.*
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 5:29 PM UTC
I can't sleep without you tucked up against me,
By my side.
But if you were to ask me how I'm,
I'd tell you I'm getting by,
I'm getting by.
And it's like walking through a door,
Just to find another
It's like watching you look for me,
Through my window,
In a house, with no door.
I can't seem to be able to watch you mourn me.
I want to tell you,
You can't be both the killer and the ambulance,
But you're.
And it's just not fair,
It's just not fair.
And It's like I'm the bullet you want to dodge,
But you can't go far without the adrenaline.
It's like how every flower will wilt for you,
If you love it hard enough,
And boy, did we love
I can't seem to be able to make use of this leftover me,
So in case you're looking for an empty, secluded place to rest from your inconsistencies,
Use my heart,
But you can't, you won't
A heart so tamed is no fun,
My heart is no fun, anymore.
And it's like the whole world is spinning,
Tauntingly, obliviously,
But I can't move,
Unless it's to write,
Somewhere along the line,
Expression was the only time
I was away from self destruction
And it's sad, but kind of funny, don't you agree?
It's sad, but kind of funny.
I can't seem to tuck out the disappointments,
Hiding in the wrinkles of my skin,
Or be a disappointment dressed up in
This messed up body,
But if you were to pass me by, I'd compile all the burnt out suns inside of my heart,
To give you one last warm smile,
Anything to convince you
That I'm getting by,
I'm getting by.
Jul 26, 2017
Jul 26, 2017 at 11:48 AM UTC