"teemed" poems
Of which I promised this Forthcoming Gift
That Low-Resolved Program you often play
Mine of Sum's Direct robbed my Basics shift
Could make my Allowance afford one day
Till then, master those Memes and Squarish Crew
And ask your Score teemed to accumulate
I know you can do it, Technocrat Blue
And rake those Creepers down confusticate
Or shall I, along the mean, Journal's Writ
Ask for more Hints over Direction rough
You, Controlling-E, fly Normal's out-of-it
Conclude my Patience to nearly enough.
I'll trust the Swede with his Awards advance
Then I'll Trust you; With those Talents enhance.
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 3:13 AM UTC
I am searching through the ghastly depths below the seas,
Where the sunlight still shines through the waters.
I find an interesting village...A haven for creatures in this
Dead, lifeless ocean floor.
I did not know so much life teemed through this rock.
Intricate sea creatures swim through the teeming corals
like red liquid flows through narrow blood vessels.
Each with a purpose, each with a task.
One species benefits the other, and vice versa.
The sea cannot live without one, and one cannot live without the other.
This makes me question the point of me being the world.
Am I something of importance,
Or a seemingly dangerous virus?
Really, I cannot tell who I shall be,
Until I live out the rest of my life, and find out,
Who I really am, and the person that will grieve for me the most when I'm gone.
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 6:21 AM UTC
Rabbit, Rabbit, worn and weary at my parlor door
Come inside, sit by the fire, we’ll let tea spirits pour
They listen as we sip, they’ve never heard a rabbit howl.
But you’ve loved a wolf, and the wolf loved you
A rabbit who was on the prowl
Your lover wore the beast they made, of comets, dirt and fur
You drove fast cars
You fell through stars
You think it would all become a blur
Oh the places you two ran, the places you two crashed
A rabbit who danced through constellations
You two birthed solar systems when you clashed
You tell me of what you saw, the gods and their creations
The secrets that you made together, the heights you did ascend
And how this journey came and went to find its timely end
Because you lived an urban fantasy, in a world like a dream
Fantastic creatures in it teemed
Fantastic deeds and fantastic feats
Fantastic, eerie, dark lit streets.
For all its wonder, much like your lover,
It had as many teeth
And this is where a rabbit learned to growl
Grew sharp claws to disembowel
And on each other you left your marks
Be it lovely or be it ******
Both felt trepidation at the threat of sparks
So Howl, rabbit, who offered up your beating heart
Howl rabbit, who loved the prowling bard!
Tell your stories, weep into your cup
Nostalgia rocks you in her arms
Howl at those old once blazed skies
Howl about all of those pretty lies
Howl, divine heart break of harsh goodbyes
A thousand suns set on that day
The dream is done, or so you say
The things you crave, the things you made
These things you’ve done will never fade
The fauns of man have made their war
In the ballad of a love that is no more...
But you’re not a rabbit, and they weren’t a wolf
This was not a dream
I was there, and it was despair,
The story wasn’t as pretty as you made it seem
I’m glad it’s done, that you’re both free
I hope you did enjoy the tea
But make no mistake, I know your habit
They weren’t a wolf, and you’re not a rabbit
Sep 21, 2018
Sep 21, 2018 at 12:24 AM UTC
Do you remember
That afternoon--that Sunday afternoon!--
When, as the kirks were ringing in,
And the grey city teemed
With Sabbath feelings and aspects,
Lewis--our Lewis then,
Now the whole world's--and you,
Young, yet in shape most like an elder, came,
Laden with Balzacs
(Big, yellow books, quite impudently French),
The first of many times
To that transformed back-kitchen where I lay
So long, so many centuries--
Or years is it!--ago?
Dear Charles, since then
We have been friends, Lewis and you and I,
(How good it sounds, 'Lewis and you and I!'):
Such friends, I like to think,
That in us three, Lewis and me and you,
Is something of that gallant dream
Which old Dumas--the generous, the humane,
The seven-and-seventy times to be forgiven!--
Dreamed for a blessing to the race,
The immortal Musketeers.
Our Athos rests--the wise, the kind,
The liberal and august, his fault atoned,
Rests in the crowded yard
There at the west of Princes Street. We three--
You, I, and Lewis!--still afoot,
Are still together, and our lives,
In chime so long, may keep
(God bless the thought!)
Unjangled till the end.
2k
Is this the place where garland grows,
Among the olive branches low?
Splattered, cindered, clay abode,
Am I so alien?
Encircled those, in khaki drab;
Paying homage to the bags;
Which hold remains of brave, young lads;
Will I feel again?
Surrounded, chains of un-lit lights,
Which only shine in day, not nights;
Illumination betrays the plights,
Should we become aglow.
A tree of polypropylene,
Adorns the tower, so serene;
A branch of steel hid in-between,
That only gunner knows.
The air of diesel, not of Myrrh,
As pre-fab dwellings start to stir,
Indifferent as they observe,
Fading of the Star.
A failed attempt at lone ‘SandMan’
Adorned with boots, bayonet in hand,
Iraqi winds displace his stand,
Re-formed in Kandahar.
T’was yesterday, on Christmas Eve;
A day ahead of promised leave,
When Paul, Eric, Mark and Steve,
Took leisurely patrol.
In Tikrit, where he was born,
Some sixty years before this ‘Storm’,
They’d set-out on this early morn.
Assessing evening’s toll.
Among the buildings, scattered ruins;
Charred men, like shadows, on the dunes;
From temples soar cremated plumes;
One hour had gone by.
In the distance, beyond the spire,
Come ‘reports’ of skirmish fire,
Incessant screaming of the dire;
Then screams dissolve to cries.
Approach, inside a city square,
Where once a fountain teemed, right there,
Smoldering flesh, low burning hair;
A family splayed together.
Rank and putrid pieces strewn,
Mother’s face, shrapnel-hewn;
Attending Allah far too soon--
All their hands were tethered.
Domestic dogs, now on their own,
Fight for human flesh and bone;
Such holy image sets the tone,
As chorus strikes ‘Jihad’.
Eric stumbles, exploded knee,
Bearing witness to comrades, three,
Souls reclaimed near instantly;
Christmas in Baghdad.
Is this the place where garland grows;
Among the olive branches low?
How I miss New England snow,
This Christmas in Baghdad.
Nov 16, 2010
Nov 16, 2010 at 12:36 PM UTC
I cannot restore the lakes that teemed with fish,
nor the maples cultivated by the Mohawk,
the Adirondacks now more remote than boyhood,
a lost dark conversation with jejune oblivion.
Events became the storyline of my life,
and events were always stronger than resolve.
My journey took me inward without time schedule,
dredged up expediencies as layovers.
Still, I felt drawn to the people,
who bejeweled my dreams in neuron flashes,
became therapy, billboards along the escape route.
Turned out that vital knowledge would suffice.
Jun 1, 2012
Jun 1, 2012 at 10:02 AM UTC
The speckled puffer fish was a greedy scavenger
a greedy thing with no agenda but to grab the hook
I used to hate to touch them.Big black eyes staring
Huge gopher teeth bare and sharp.
I was Huck Fin Carribean
Bare foot and rural as heck
Dirt ring around my neck
The dusty roads
humid.
The sweltering heat and the river would meet us
in the mangrove Forrest as we walked the
Picado road to river's edge.
A cranky dory sat tied of
for our convenience with a paddle or two.
We pushed of and fought the tide
to get us safe to the other side.
Aunt Doris would stand with'
arm akimbo a cigarette burning
between index and middle
a tiny smile stayed put.
The Muttruce , as we named it
Flourished because no one would eat it
so the river teemed with catfish and puffy.
we did not eat catfish either some cultural bias. Lucky cat
but that bias died when the market for him found Belize.
Scary little blacked eyed buck toothed *******
Dont know if they are on someones menu now.
They seemed a bit scarce last time i fished.
high priced export on the orient express I guess.
Price of popularity is no privacy
eaten to extinction.
Head up , eyes open
mouth closed.
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 10:57 PM UTC
We walked through.
Stingy back alleys.
Decadent
in their fading
twilight glory.
Obnoxious dumpsters.
Teemed
with rusted belongings.
We took pictures.
Discussing technique.
In depth
connected by
secret jargon.
Enlightened meaning.
Dripped
from knowing tongues.
© 2012
Jun 27, 2012
Jun 27, 2012 at 2:27 PM UTC
I was suckling the barrel
of my grandpa's favorite gun,
when Gloria strolled in,
head held high,
like a 12-story *****
"What the **** are you doing?"
"Nothin', sweets, I was just wondering about the taste."
Gloria mixed herself a Mt. Vesuvius,
unplugged the telephone,
turned on the tv,
dug her nails into my weary couch,
over and over.
I didn't ask how her day went,
she didn't call me babycakes,
we didn't touch,
I just watched as she changed channels,
sunk further into oblivion,
I traced my kneecap with
grandpa's gun,
it was something to do, I suppose.
"You know you got to get out," she finally said.
I looked like a suicidal ******* baptized in cobwebs,
and every word I threw at every guest teemed parasitic.
I hadn't left the apartment for awhile,
it seemed like every time I did, I would collide with
some enemy, and my bloodlust was subsiding.
I didn't like it to be so awfully one-sided.
"Hey, look at me," she demanded.
Maybe the neurons are crippled,
can't cross the synapse,
or perhaps it's this culture that
listens only to the false priest in its head,
but when no one else around you is living,
it makes the whole gig seem a bit pointless.
"Gloria, sometimes it's better just to die."
Nov 2, 2010
Nov 2, 2010 at 3:51 PM UTC
her eyes held rain and cloudy weather.
they stored lightning and harvested thunder.
they churned waves and teemed with froth.
they were as bright as who she was,
and she was as bright as what they were.
as they flickered over the clumps of warm masses,
he hoped with shaky breaths
that those eyes would land on him,
if only for a second.
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 5:11 PM UTC
These winter mornings make me miss you,
Your scent, your breath, how you always left me,
The pet names we called each other,
The small pieces of foreign languages we meant,
Your “Lo siento”s, your Elvish “I love you”s (‘Amin mela lle’),
The day of silence, I learned to sign my heart for you,
I learned so much through it all, my brain teemed,
But you only taught me how my pain was true.
(And how to kiss.)
Winter mornings without warmth.
A compass with no North.
11-12-13
Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 11:50 PM UTC
its grown quiet
here in the darkness
things moving have grown still
or moved off
now even the stillness has
ceased its capturing
left with the impoverished air
that once teemed with subtle life
i **** in its neutral taste
and slowly breath out trying to avoid creating a stir
pause here at the gap between instruction
of the current and the mastery of the next
i flicker between fears unfounded yet persistent
strip off layers of perception only to cloth them again
in some other unnatural garment of paper thin ideal
this struggle exhausts me and i flounder at the escapism
i am left here in the silence
once more
to become still myself as i reconcile the loss
how it came to be baffles me
but i know i must come to terms
i am trapped within and will not find easy egress
the darkness gathers my attention
i search it for meanings
it by inaction speaks
it by force of its encompassing nature
gives birth to visions
creates echoes in the mind
that are not really there
but are real enough to the perceiver
a lone dog shouts his displeasure
a lawnmower begins its guttural journey through
a landscape
a child's joyfully laughing shout
these strange noises come and depart in an instant
in the the minds eye
each has meaning and creates image of each thing
as it would happen
but it is just a thought
just an image
the darkness has not moved
has not revealed a sound
it is more alive than i
eye flutters open to visual noise
and i am free
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 9:22 AM UTC
*I was the scorched wasteland,
you the ravishing stream
my life, sparse
while yours teemed
my lips parched
while yours gleamed,
one drop water was all
that I had sought,
alas! That was too much
for you to part with…
I live on
as the deserted desert*.
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 10:29 AM UTC
after dark
had fallen
I stood
in the backyard
the majestic palms
playing
to wind chimes
solar lights
cascading rainbows
along the water’s surface
Life teemed
in the silken underbelly
of the purple night sky
someday
I will miss
this piece
of unfinished paradise.
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 10:46 PM UTC
Gleaming eyes shining green
Long ***** hair unkempt but moving
As teemed with life in each strand
Flowing yellow transparent chiffon, **** or sari?
You advance, i retreat
Step by step, it’s appears a dance
Even though pitch dark
Your luminosity lights our path
Oh **** i hit a wall, no opening, too high to climb
i kick and scream but not even echoes sound
You’re gruesome self, nearing, i scream and cower
I pass out?
I’m in my room in a corner by the closet
Parents hovering, wondering, asking together
Me - it was a dream...
No, impossible, so lucid, vivid
The lady, the green eyes, the moving strands of hair
I was dreaming?
mmmm....
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 3:24 AM UTC
Collaboration...Dee and Deborah Brooks
*I was the scorched wasteland,
you the ravishing stream
my life, sparse
while yours teemed
my lips parched
while yours gleamed,
one drop water was all
that I had sought,
alas! That was too much
for you to part with…*
**I live on
as the deserted desert.
You were scorched in my being
Sent my ravishing stream to drink
Kissed your lips that were parched
My love made you shimmer and gleam.
My tears real, splattered as raindrops
Your lonely hand reaching out
When the day we bid goodbye
In the deserted desert
Alone by ourselves…**
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 7:37 PM UTC
The forest stood silent and still,
A melancholic hush over the hill,
The trees that once whispered to the breeze,
Now stood with a sense of unease.
The rivers that flowed once with glee,
Now ran dry and lost their spree,
The birds that once sang so sweet,
Now vanished from their retreat.
The flowers that bloomed with such grace,
Now withered and faded in their place,
The grass that once swayed with delight,
Now wilted, with no hope in sight.
The earth that once teemed with life,
Now barren, with nothing but strife,
The sky that once shone with stars,
Now dull and gray, without any bars.
The world that once pulsed with love,
Now drowned in tears and woes above,
Nature, once a bountiful gift,
Now a symbol of pain, a heartbroken rift.
Mar 26, 2023
Mar 26, 2023 at 12:21 PM UTC
Tap tap tap and ye shall find.
I sieved and panned for nuggets that shine,
Searching for those elusive lines
That transgress space and transgress time
Or soothe and calm like favourite wine
Or send a shiver down the spine
I chanced upon a wealthy seam
I tapped and from it gushed and teemed
A geyser of emotion
A tide of wisdom
A planet of experience
Hello Poetry, how do you do?
I'm very pleased to meet with you.
Dec 16, 2011
Dec 16, 2011 at 8:37 AM UTC
I would rather close the door
For I can not fix ravage bind
Ruined along the plight
Tight hold no more.
Peer at the motion
Slowly teemed by caution
Loose its cleave
And just decided to leave.
Oct 5, 2017
Oct 5, 2017 at 7:30 PM UTC
Madison mounted her coal black mare
In the yard of the Smugglers Inn,
Her coat was black and her hair was fair
And her jodhpurs tucked well in,
The sky was in a threatening mood
With its thunderheads from hell,
As lightning forked on the ancient rood
And the rain teemed down as well.
‘You need to get to the Laird,’ I cried,
‘Tell him to haste to me,
Another day and she may have died,
I’m trying to set her free.
But the Pikemen stand outside her door
And they say they guard her skin,
There were locks and chains on her door before
Up there, in the Smugglers Inn.’
‘Tell him to bring his gallant troop
To dismay the Duke of Bray,
He means to imprison his daughter
In his tower, the Lady Grey,’
The Pikemen said that I’d lose my head
If I tried to breach her door,
And wouldn’t answer whenever I asked,
‘What is she locked in for?’
So Madison wheeled the mare around
And she put it to the spur,
If any could ride a horse to ground
I knew that it was her,
She headed off to the Castle Croft
Head bent to the driving rain,
With lightning flashing around her mount
I watched her across the plain.
What seemed to take forever, I thought,
Was merely an hour or two,
But then my fears were set at naught
As the troop came jangling through.
Each man had raised his sabre and
He’d kept his powder dry,
My heart was surging within me as
The troop came riding by.
And then, at last, was Madison
Still riding with the Laird,
Determined then to save her friend,
To show her that she cared.
The Pikemen soon were beaten down
Were lost in the affray,
I never did catch a glimpse of him,
Their lord, the Duke of Bray.
It took a moment to smash the locks
On the door of Lady Grey,
And all the troop had cheered out loud
As the chains, they fell away.
Madison was the first in line
To embrace the one within,
But we were not to know what lay
Up there, in the Smugglers Inn.
The Lady, held in a firm embrace
Had staggered out through the door,
But blood and pustules were on her face
Like we’d never seen before.
A dying Pikemen called, ‘You fools,
You’ve unleashed a bitter ague,
And then he sighed just before he died,
‘Behold, you have the plague!’
David Lewis Paget
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 6:16 AM UTC
Your friends readied the kids,
In the boys hostel mess.
The day happier than ever,
I felt proud of myself.
Then I took your hand,
And guided you inside.
You were totally unprepared,
But we had trained the kids.
The canteen was filled with us,
The volunteers and the kids.
The onlookers joined the chorus,
In the Happy Birthday words.
Do you remember what the kids sang?
Why won't you, Satyaa, why won't you?
You might remember me, oh dear,
You were my old flame, and I was for you.
I said, "Here you go, dear,
This surprise we prepared,
Just for you, oh, just for you."
And your eyes teemed with tears.
You looked at me in gratitude,
But I was truthful as I told you,
"Your girl friends surprised you,
I just brought the cake, dear."
"Sakshi suggested this surprise,
Your girl friends prepared the kids,
Enjoy your birthday, Satyaa, enjoy it,"
You were speechless, completely in love.
Oct 27, 2024
Oct 27, 2024 at 9:30 PM UTC
( Sonnet )
My love beamed back to heavens overrun,
In a field where we stood so held in light,
As radiance teemed, our crown of sun
And never again was any day so bright.
Never were flowers too alive, so moving,
As we, they blanketed the fields of youth,
A memory set in starlights of blooming,
Our innocence eternal, O such beauty!
But bliss became loss caged in that one day
And light was shed from a gift to a sorrow,
Luster of dream, once held, now so faraway,
Only memories of image, dim light to borrow,
How spark of bliss fades in young sun, so soon
Lovers overrun, once held, in fields of bloom.
Jun 29, 2015
Jun 29, 2015 at 4:41 PM UTC
( Sonnet )
My love beamed back to heavens overrun,
In a field where we stood so held in light,
As radiance teemed, our crown of sun
And never again was any day so bright.
Never were flowers too alive, so moving,
As we, they blanketed the fields of youth,
A memory set in starlights of blooming,
Our innocence eternal, O such beauty!
But bliss became loss caged in that one day
And light was shed from a gift to a sorrow,
Luster of dream, once held, now so faraway,
Only memories of image, dim light to borrow,
How spark of bliss fades in young sun, so soon
Lovers overrun, once held, in fields of bloom.
Apr 26, 2017
Apr 26, 2017 at 9:25 PM UTC
Once water ran with life,
reflecting light,
until the sun shy.
Oceans teemed
with dreams
and landed
on a verdant shore,
sure of love.
Now arid ground
covered in contours
carved by racing streams
stares at starless skies,
awaiting rain from empty eyes.
Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 4:15 PM UTC