"tempering" poems
the bane of my existence
here
now
is
all of the incessant
noise.
the city encroaches
ever outward,
gobbling up
the suburbs
like the great big
Blob
contributing
layer
after
layer
of noise.
a new metro line
opened last year
disheartened
the morning
realized
it was the trains
i heard
as my puppy
and i
walked so early.
trash trucks,
back up beeping noises,
leaf blowers,
mowers
and trimmers ...
all
conspiring
to drive me
mad.
the birds and owls,
snakes and deer,
hawks and rabbits
toads
and trees
and flowers,
puppies
all other creatures
divine,
tempering
this man-made chaos
this man-made
hell
keeping me hopeful
that
i
will
have some
respite
some respite
from this
hideous cacophony,
this man-made hell,
in the future,
not
too distant.
of course
there are
some benefits
from all
the city life
but i prefer
the silence
the solitude
of nature.
the Taoist recluses
who speak to me,
whose poems
paintings
writings
and silence
are balm
to my soul.
some day soon,
i too
shall join
the recluses
far away
far far away
in the mountains.
but for now,
i am
only a modern day
taoist
recluse
stuck in suburbia,
doing my best,
living in this
noisy hell.
Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 2:37 AM UTC
I know plenty of elderly,
I should,
Who seem to know
Everything about Nothing,
And have the time
To tell us.
If we're not wise in youth,
We're not necessarily wise
In age.
Experience needs tempering
With a modicum of brains,
Which may explain
The Wisdom Fallacy.
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 11:18 AM UTC
You can't silence the church's bell,
So, a poet can't be silenced, never!
He was born with deep stories to tell.
Even after life, his words are forever!
You can stop the flow of the Nile
Therefore you can't alter its direction.
Like tempering with Monalisa's smile,
call it an affront and abomination!
You can't tell the tales of the pyramid
Therefore you can't decipher Egypt.
Like the ocean and the mermaid,
It's a wildcard and mysterious script!
You can't see the end of the universe
Therefore you can't fully fathom it.
It's infinite, deep and immense,
That's why there's always a star to spit.
IB-poetry©
10/10/2018
Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 4:19 AM UTC
i love to write poetry with food
the clickety-clack of the knife on the dining board is my metre
the veggies going choppity-chop are the words
the masalas are the embellishments
that lift them to another level altogether
the pressure cooker whistles,
something in the frying pan sizzles
the flavours rise and fill my home
with the smell of cooking
the gravy thickens
the pulse quickens
in anticipation of the tasting
the aromas tease as i’m tempering
a little coriander for the topping
and I’m done!
- Vijayalakshmi Harish
09.09.2012
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Sep 9, 2012
Sep 9, 2012 at 12:27 PM UTC
Written not to thine appraisal accord;
Words that aim to torch the infernal loom,
Seeking the world of sorcery and sword
Unconfined to thine astringent courtroom.
Methinks thy hackles must surely be raised
For hours laboured, tempering such sleight...
Yet adamant this pen, wielder unfazed
Mirrors many thou haplessly indict.
Scholars of insight construed only thee-
So feebly traced was this artistic lie;
A labyrinth from which my muse soars free.
Minoan mentor, dare not I deny:
It may be an Icarian Ascension,
But stands it staunchly, lacking pretension.
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 6:32 AM UTC
You seem to have captured me
Infiltrated my dreams
And crossed into my seams
In your company
How well you mesh with me
Your hand fits mine
As if perfectly designed
You fill the spaces where I lack
The heat to my cold
The knick to my knack
The strength to my debility
The simple to my complexity
The caution tempering my impulse
The kindness to my insults
I've decided you're good for me
There's nowhere I'd rather be
Jan 31, 2013
Jan 31, 2013 at 11:35 PM UTC
*awakening autumn air
absorbed with thrown caution
a penchant for yawning leaves
an affinity for desiccated hearts
stirring lakeside willows
whisking emotions away
wafting feminine fragrance
in walking women's wakes
moving to its own designs
gusting in pursuit of change
swirling clouds of romantic disarray
into dizzying vortexes of possibility
expanding the bellows of intimacy
lovesmith for glowing molten souls
passionately ignited, vulnerably cooled
forging bonds, tempering existence*
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 12:49 PM UTC
"You're fat" the boy said
Immediately she started crying
"Don't call me that!" Her emotions tempering around
She had tried everything. Pills, Diets, Retching
"You are fat" the boy repeated
"But why is that so upsetting you?" He asked wondering
Her eyes looked confused
"Well, Its reality.. It should not upset us" the boy said calmly
The girl began to breath, deeply and cautious
Noticing the boy was not that skinny himself
"Its because when people call me fat... they laugh at me and joke with me
Just as you are trying right now! It's not funny!"
"What? The boy was surprised.
"They laugh at you? But, if your state of mind doesn't get hypnotised into believing that being fat or called fat is negative and makes you're emotions twist, than the word does not become an enemy."
Her eyes transfigured. She smiled
"Don't believe what people say!
If no one ever believed, that being called fat is laughable
It would have never grown into such an illusion of reality."
Fat people are fat and beautiful, just like skinny people are skinny and beautiful.
Dec 15, 2012
Dec 15, 2012 at 9:31 AM UTC
What cloud, dim constellation
you pale moon of deep detachment from the self.
Dark moon undersea, you are unwilling to perform me
So come! It clings untold time before leaving; reduces the fat of life.
Though your gravity blots out possibility, there’s use hanging aloof
an opaque cloud, tempering all things loud, bright, and obtuse--
Now you are sealed with all time, you want kindly to observe
Stillness.
And when all time departs in a vapour,
you cling without occupation,
an array of senses, then often you begin:
sketching and sketching, and sketching.
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 4:42 PM UTC
your hair hanging over
over your face
I looked up at you
you were the sun
you were the moon
I saw stars in
your pretty complexion
galaxy swirls beneath
your eyelids
your tender hand
traces tender wound
it hurt but my heart
delighted, skipped,
there was no other
closeness such as that
the transition of body
temperature, tempering
unspoken songs
there is a care out there,
in the vast, beautiful
emptiness of space
it's all consuming and
I admire it so, it's omni-
present and powerful
the bandage is the
symbol, is the bond,
is the willingness to
heal, is the willingness
to grow stronger and
it can be nothing at all
it's still so wonderful
the connection is
the interaction is
the chain reaction
of all those things
so wonderful and
I want you to know
how wonderful
you really are
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 12:44 PM UTC
Curve of clouded sky:
a pregnant future pressed against its limits.
Puffed cheeks full of destined secrets,
a compromise of molecules
sculpting form from pressure and restraint.
This gasp withheld:
drawn in anticipation
and silenced behind pursed lips
(a desperate consumption of hard-won pleasures).
Innocuous expulsion,
tempering fair-weather:
The quiet before the war.
Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 1:49 AM UTC
Old emotions in new words ran down the depth of the 12 foot end…
Swimming in the rain filled me with a strange nostalgia a happy knowing of happier truth,
I begin to swim faster and faster still till I reach the other end and when I surface I can smell the fresh earth in the first rain.....
It feels like swimming in the boundless ocean of the world through currents warm and cold as the rain falls in neat sheets tempering the warmth of the water……
Standing in the pool I get the feeling of being at two places at once , my legs at the cold surface and my arms scaling the warm bottom of the shallow end....
When the torrential dance of the clouds slows down to a gentle shimmy
I looked up from the blue tiled depth and there are stars on the surface of the water where rain meets the pool, where movement meets stagnation, where the rapid meets the still and it is a calm with a strange eerieness ..
This is what happiness means to me, the gurgle of excitement that leaves my lips bursts as a bubble of laughter at the surface of the pool……..
My tears inconspicuous in the chlorine drift into the murky reflection of the floodlights,
The rain falls soundlessly loud and old emotions in new words run down the depth of the 12 foot end…….
Oct 18, 2013
Oct 18, 2013 at 4:32 PM UTC
Love’s Lexicon
I must make a new vocabulary.
My dear, the words I’ve used in those
Over and over descriptions, signifying all you are,
Are well and past their sell-by-date, should
End their shelf-life here and now. No longer can I
Form their letters truly without knowing well
I test love’s patience . . . and your own.
So in desperation’s way
I adopt a different lexicon
Offer you, my love,
a fresh taxonomy.
*concave the slapp
pressure inbuilt
evenly glassed
held held holdingnow
but ambulatory
moons at full stretch
figuration tempering
notonce twicemore
pressure wieghedupon
beyond breath’s exhale
membraneous goldening
frecklation the hands’ fastness
eyerich sightedkeen here
gone awaygone away
bodystretched senticle
smoooth*
A Proper Poem
Poised to conjure music
from the nothing air, and
with only some frivolous
verse to guide me,
I rest momentarily
to watch the screen of my mind
show your dear self to me:
the sweet flow of your body
uncovered in the shower;
that dance of choosing clothes
and dressing. I have sometimes
watched and wondered,
wondered that you could be
quite as you are.
So precious in my sight,
so very precious.
Water’s Kiss
I shall only write you
very short poems of love
so you can taste them
in one gulp as you might
from a Highland stream
unpolluted, soft,
peat -filtered, cold,
and bubbled with air
from falling across stones
into your cupped hand.
My love, bring now
this water’s kiss
to your waiting lips.
Feb 28, 2013
Feb 28, 2013 at 2:27 AM UTC
A water drop fallen down
to vast dark pools to drown
A dead brown leaf staying put
crumpled smashed underfoot
No wind to carry you away
stagnant broken here you'll stay
Blending in your world surrounds
passing by in leaps and bounds
Quivering shaking trembling not
overlooking your trivial lot
Blues so vibrant reds so pure
crying bleeding heart so sore
soul refusing brittle tempering
broken omitted needs remembering
tiny teardrop fallen down
vast dark oceans made to drown
Oct 9, 2015
Oct 9, 2015 at 2:58 AM UTC
There’s a candle in the window, shining through the night
It burns with the eternal flame and its everlasting light
There is one candle in the window, for each of us to see
One candle power, to show the strength in you and me
One flame dancing, lightly as the cold winds blow
One heart holds its light, and it shows where to go
Keep that one flame burning, glowing with its light
Knowing it holds the key, to seeing what is right
Though the night surrounds the light, tempering its flame
It is the darkness of night, that one candle puts to shame
Shining ever brightly, against the pitch-dark night
Glowing for you to see, there’s always one candlelight
The darkness will forsake you, lead you from your way
It can turn your heart from the light, in the bright of the day
It is ever tempting, as it sits outside your windowpane
Believe in that light, it shows darkness offers no gain
One candle in the window is all we ever need to know
One candle power, that lights the way we must each go
One flame dancing lightly, as the cold winds blow
One heart holds its light, and it shows where to go
2/25/06
Sep 6, 2025
Sep 6, 2025 at 5:21 PM UTC
I see your cadence
and your lilt.
I see you--
soft mannerisms,
broad gesticulations,
eye language
and swinging butterfly
legs that can't sit still.
I see your lips
with my eyes closed.
I see you--
gentle tempering,
encompassing motion,
speaking tongues
only I know
and wrapping serpent
arms that hiss our secrets.
-LP
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 8:37 PM UTC
I am sad I am starting to forget
but to remember means to hurt
You're drifting away
Slipping from my reach
You're gone
You've gone
And so are the memories of you
But what I'll never forget
is the shuddering of my heart
the tempering of my soul
the melting of my own
when I see your face
a figure, shadow, a glimpse of you
how you make me feel
whether heat or blue
that, I will never forget
I am sad whenever I remember
but to forget means to hurt
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 11:29 AM UTC
We are not shattered glass for you to attempt to piece back together only to cut yourself using that shed blood as an excuse for us owing you.. We are not shattered glass. We are iron.. Dented by the toils of this world, and the fires of your abuse are tempering us into steel..
... We will steal ourselves away from you time and time again until our hearts learn to understand the difference between love and abuse. Until our hearts learn the meaning of the word "No."... And until yours. do. too.
- EPL (EtherealOmega)
Apr 17, 2017
Apr 17, 2017 at 11:17 PM UTC
You hear the sound of couples
dressed high and fancy,
mingle as their souls tap the floor outside,
to the sound of strings, brass, and percussion
tempering themselves for the heat of music.
The passionate movements of bows,
batons, and fingers, to form the wonderful
elegance, behind the masterful music composed
by fellows now long gone.
Ah, to the sounds of majors and minors
my heart feels at ease, to the subtle creaking of chairs,
to the rhythmic chimes and strums of instruments within
the skilled orchestral ensemble. All this,
topped by the eccentric and emphatic movements
of the swift conductors hands, and arms,
watch the spring, when the crescendo arrives
his spring is let loose, and jolts,
currents, swift, sleek, fluent motions, baton in one
passionate turning of pages as music flies on by,
at 4/4 pace.
Oh, the fine thunder of the percussion,
and deepest strums of bass at the right,
combined in a movements finale, to make an
awe-inspiring harmony, that one does not
really expect, with two previous movements
just elegant and peaceful,
such a quickened pace and depth of drum
and strum takes us all by surprise.
Then, Silence,
joyful applause,
continuous applause,
then its all over,
and we head home.
Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 11:12 PM UTC
What Is More Youthful
Than Displaying One's Feelings?
When Sad,
Were Your Jowls Not Veined
With Tears As A Child;
When Mad,
Did You Not Resist
Tempering Your Wild?
When Glad,
You Couldn't Mask
That Expression, Beguiled.
Why Then, As Adults,
Do Emotions Have Ceilings?
~ The Sharpie Poet
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 7:44 AM UTC
My life's a dichotomy
Pure business is what they see
Hair slicked back
Professional, hot ****
Smiling proud, ************
Look at my doctorate!
Charming sociopath
I'll grin like you've never seen before
"It was a pleasure talking to you," she'll tell me
And in my head, I'm ******* screaming
I'm dancing with devils and entertaining ghosts
Tempering and instigating demons with liquor in a paradox I've yet to understand
Engendering masochistic tendencies
Because I deserve no better
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 6:14 PM UTC
Airports…baggage claims…hotel rooms
I bet they all look the same by now
The desolation of small towns tempering the temptation of big cities
Wherever you are, you are not always alone
Some nights you get lucky…and there she is
The thirty-second flavor
The wild ride for the night
The prize for a job well done
She will climb all over you like it’s recess in the schoolyard
Kiss your mouth with a fire that singes the scruff from your face
Scratch her nails down your back when you push deeper, harder, faster…
And you…You will tease her to the precipice over and over again
Through gritted teeth, you will groan her name…if you even know what it is
You will have each other for the night and in the morning exchange thank you’s and goodbyes
Meanwhile, I will take up smoking again
I will order one whiskey after another even though I don’t drink
I will wring ht glass dry for every last drop
Bloodshot eyes and whiskey breath, dragging myself home down familiar streets
To the apartment in the city where you are not
To the unmade bed where you don’t say my name through gnashed teeth
In the bedroom where there is no vindication
Some lucky ***** has you for a few hours
But it’s not me
Bartender, I’ll have another. And another. And another.
Jul 17, 2011
Jul 17, 2011 at 4:28 PM UTC
Tender Juliet;
To breathe such vows as lovers
use to swear, to meet
her new be-loved anywhere -
never tempering extremes
Apr 27, 2010
Apr 27, 2010 at 12:48 PM UTC
I love solos.
The courage to stand out front, in front of those consigned to the choir, acknowledging the support they provide with a gracious wave, but not afraid to take the acclaim justly due, front stage.
I love solos.
They celebrate breakthrough, on cue drawing attention away from the typical duets, the quartets, the ensembles, tempering a tendency to celebrate humble, to focus on a singular achievement and an agreement that this is a voice worth listening to.
I love solos.
So step out, take a bow
and make it loud.
Sep 20, 2023
Sep 20, 2023 at 4:29 PM UTC
The red velvet sun, too anxious to peer over the horizon
Finds solace in gently tempering the colors of the sky
But it is bound to rise,
As it is inflexible in deciding whether or not too.
So when it does
It dawns in fire.
The sunrise, rising
Dances with melancholy grace
In front of an audience who has seen her worn face
Countless amounts of times.
Who have fallen in love with her poise
Countless amounts of times.
She rises to the same men,
Apathetic to their sincere approaches,
Because she had always withered their ambition
And parched their lips,
Before kissing them
And when she concludes her performance
And her partners lay satisfied
She goes out to smoke,
But instead,
Finds herself wandering the streets
Allowing all the obscure shadows
To muffle her lovers
And let them fall asleep
Because as things go,
The sun never sleeps,
She only sleeps with.
Jan 9, 2012
Jan 9, 2012 at 2:10 AM UTC