"traipsed" poems
Draped in fresh-knitted pearls
we traipsed
into saccharine peach orchard
The summer heat loped about our dew-kissed ******
****** - appropriated from dawn spent on neatly shorn plantation grass
Ambling into the knotted palatial arbor
we sat each in our own tree crux
behinds nestled upon ashen bark
Juice dripping in our grip
down our cast nets of flesh
sprawled about the branches
inset with gravity-defying liquescent orbs
dusted in translucent mink
painted with smears of
citrine, coral, amber, and ichorous
clinging to brass stem
The rondures secede to mandible
taut between palms pull and polished ivories
- torn-
Fluent in dulcet discourse
We cloak ourselves in provocative juice tatting
Until such time that our congealing garments
were found mapping the bark's topography
A saccharine map to the breath of soil
Bloodstone ants found our map
and had begun traversing - portent
to seize our treasure
We surrendered our jewelled cages
and took flight
to the sun-drunken lake to bathe
and swim
until heavy lids kissed moistly
heavily supped on the draught
sleep - beckoned transience
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 9:48 PM UTC
You hit me like a wave. I drifted away, coming into the shore, and lied there with nothing but my naked eyes; the sun covered my cold, barren body. Radiating sunshine and weakness as the sea called over me, you traipsed and towered over my sight, blinding me with your ivory skin lit as the match fired the sky.
The waves in the sea squished me in like a soft linen blanket, wrapping me all over like the comfort of a mother. My hands were trembling as you stood there unmoving, and the melodies and blasphemous beats almost dug me out of my ears; I couldn’t even do anything. You were there like an angel lost in his epiphany. It was as if a goddess were in front of you; your eyes spoke as you became a slave to your own wrath, worshipping what was in front of you. You laid your eyes on me like I was some kind of song you could not decipher.
You stood there, solving the creeps and mysteries and finishing the last verse of a poem you will never read again. You hit me like a wave, and I drifted away, hoarding memories left astray. You were there, godlike and lost, and even the sun loathed your fire. You burn like a match, your skin a stain of crimson—of sunshine and weakness. You called me, but I did not answer.
It was cold, and I loathed it. Perhaps it was the month of October where the enigmas of night lay open, and achingly, my flesh was found in humiliation. I continued to bleed, on and on.
Jan 25, 2024
Jan 25, 2024 at 9:44 AM UTC
i slept in the heart of the swallow’s breast
in the tire-swing marina
“who do you love best?”
what is the name that I drank in the dark
whose syllables traipsed through the silt
morning start
who was the pit of my hunger my thirst
i am a tulip, bloom
ing in reverse
Dec 6, 2011
Dec 6, 2011 at 8:46 PM UTC
a riotous collusion of chromatics
coalesced on eager eye's
devouring the whispers
bleeding from the suns
last crimson gasp
it's violent prismatic
cool heat traipsed over
unconscious longing to touch
as your subtle warmth dripped
over me
Apr 14, 2010
Apr 14, 2010 at 12:57 PM UTC
I'm Bored in Brighton
Can't you see?
I'm locked here in this mansion
with just my family.
I'm Bored in Brighton
Yes, I've traipsed the streets
From Church to Bay to Hampton
I've jogged along the beach!
I'm Bored of Brighton
The Daimler's in the drive
The staff? Well they've just up and gone
All this to stay alive?
I'm Bored of Brighton
The twins are going mad.
And Rupert? Rupert's all a-moan
It's just so terribly sad!
I'm Bored of Brighton
The cavoodle looks a fright!
O heck! O no! It can't be so!
My Lulu's ...they're slightly tight!
I'm Bored with Brighton
You people are the pitts!
Try Lockdown in a high rise
And don't give us the pip!
Jul 20, 2020
Jul 20, 2020 at 7:30 PM UTC
I remember her distinctly,
she wore green flannel & cargo shorts,
Che cap & a stuck sunflower,
her braids exploded from under it.
She was proud of her antler-handled side knife
& jump boots, traipsed around
like she was on the nature boardwalk,
I heard she stalked Sasquatch once.
That girl was
the consummate outdoors woman,
she knew all about trapping,
skinning & first aid,
could make water
spring from the ground.
Her grin was infectious,
a true aura of love hung
like dander around her,
her sensuality screamed
silently from her twinkling eyes,
the color of azure.
I was with her for one summer,
then I moved out of her sacred-valley.
Every time I look at the stars,
I remember her campfires
& the times we spent
at Moondipper
in each others arms
tasting marshmallows.
Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 3:44 PM UTC
A woman traipsed with the whole company of ballet;
She was but only a soloist, a mere sujet.
Her companions wore clothes for traveling hard,
But our sujet, she dressed in dancing shoes and leotard.
Her head was upturned and her nose pointed
High, as if by a great saint she had been anointed.
With ease she stretched into each dainty pose
But no other ballerina saw the bandages wrapped around her toes,
Which she had to replace every other hour;
Seeing her bleeding sores did often make her cower.
To the other ballerinas she was dismissive and ****
But her oft-clenched fists belied the faltering of her heart.
Her chestnut hair she had dyed golden like the rest
And her curves became thin so she would dance her very best;
She had hidden herself inside ‘till her olive skin turned pale,
Believing if she fit in, at her craft she never could fail.
Instead of breaking her fast or supping at night
She practiced her art and took nary a bite.
The ballet troupe sneered while the sujet put on her airs
Yet I know she wept at the ice hardened in their stares.
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 9:08 PM UTC
I'm a hung dumpster! Alcohol flask bucket
Sacked into the trash can of grocery store monopoly the end of all produce and of production
Collapse
Coronary killer vegetables
Rotting in the stomach
Begotten sons of Aspergers eating asparagus
the symptoms of collectivism and social surplus. colliding and,
The end of evolve.
The cities you see are the collecting cells pooling to cesspit trudging on tracheing breath.
Collapsing lungs with no space left
The cornucopia is over. It fell down with its mortar and grout lain to crust into soil. Traipsed through toil torture and insolence.
The Crimea fell next comes bombs next comes Obamba. Capitulation with motor skills
Feigning docility and anti-hostility mortar round bills.
Mountains from Jerusalem cricket ant hills
I am your friend though we owe the same blood
I am no different yet I give nothing up
I claim all the land just as you do
You take and you take and I lose and lose
Corruption and solitude
Killing people only gets you less friends
We are mirror yet very mad at it
.
My time will be up only but once.
This is the one time I'm not scared of death
But the glimmer in her eyes laughs me through it.
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 12:09 AM UTC
take me to Paris, she said through star-filled eyes
through which she couldn't quite see
and his shadow beckoned her delicate hands into the unknown
and when she touched the Eiffel tower it felt almost as cold as his hands had been
when he picked her up from the grass
but she ignored his ice hands
and instead
hummed to the tune
of his contralto voice
even when it raised with every hoarse breath
as it turned to terrifying storms of thunder
she lay in silk as her artist's muse
soft fabric against skin
chills sweeping up her back
goosebumps against her arms
yet she smiled
but she longed to hold the paintbrush and swim amongst the bright colour
when she traipsed across sunset fields
she felt his grip tighten
but she treasured the security
that he wielded
in his rough hands
and when he hit her
it felt like a kiss
May 14, 2021
May 14, 2021 at 5:27 PM UTC
we were older then. you with your horn-rimmed glasses
sleek as Hermes, resting on your button nose; dazzling.
your eyes were smoldering echoes, far off on a quest for
visions. mine
were nowhere
to be seen.
we poured over volumes of antiquity, blazoned with rich
art. Faustian marvels, leather bound and noble.
we traipsed the gallows of Dry Humors, lording it
over the gremlins of our isolation.
we had not been formally introduced and everything
was formal. we haunted the halls; our school of fish eyes
sparkling; weaving like serpents in the heather on ether.
we roamed the hallowed ground on secret missions
without Love.
then i asked you out. and changed the world.
Jan 16, 2013
Jan 16, 2013 at 1:46 PM UTC
Traipse towards the elven forest
Say hello to the trees
As they offer words of wisdom
Sit still and listen
They contain multitudes
Open your eyes
Watch violet stretch into
Ebony’s fingers
And wrap it all together
Giving you the gift of night
The moon guides my footsteps
Illuminating the path
Enlightening my mind
And the stars sparkle bright
Your dress glides close behind
Carrying pieces of the fairies
With you
Beauty is real here
And here everything is beautiful
While beauty there
Is trapped in a narrow looking glass
A privilege only available
For a select few
I was never a part
Of their corruption
Because their windows could not show everything
Selective at best
Where truth is a rarity
Like the so called unicorn
That only shows up for those who believe
So I traipsed here
Where the ghosts of yesterday cannot follow me
And I can flow freely into the blue
Swaying gently with the breezes blowing past
Breath is a sacred instrument
That cannot be tainted
By empty words and broken dreams
So I put the pieces together
And find I am part
Of a greater whole
Fear is not fear
Because power of love eclipses
And overshadows the dark
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 8:53 PM UTC
stony feet,
traipsed the streets
of Nepal--
home of homes.
my hearts is
encrusted
in the Himalayas.
misted mornings
with a cup of
hot chai
free my soul.
one day I know
I will return
to my home.
until then, I'm
stuck dreaming
and reminiscing
about the past
days. one day
i'll find my
heart again.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 11:29 PM UTC
In a juncture of three years he traipsed ***** nilly close to christ
He was the treasurer and all the finances he kept safe in a pouch hanging on his chest
He was a chosen in the midst of the chosen twelve he existed
All the miracles the son of man performed he witnessed
In his gospel all he recorded
Yet deep within he charred with bitterness he was dissapointed with the long awaited messiah
Tears of hatred soaked his soul
Ironically he felt betrayed this is not the saviour he had longed for
His iron heart had yearned for revolution
All his selfish heart wanted was the surrender of the roman
His heart pumped blood saturated with patriotism and christ with his spiritual
Kingdom was a foe of the jews whose throat were parched with the thirst of a political king
He had been preordained and he had to fulfill the divine decree
It was a calling he couldn't overcome
Thats when the ministry of christ was done and together they sat to eat the last meal the lord dropped a hint about him
He sopped a bread in wine and urged him to hastily fulfill his mission as the other disciples sat there clueless
This was a golden chance for he knew by assuming the role of a traitor he will precipitate the action of messiah and induce him to manifest his miraculous powers
For he longed for this savior to perfom the miracle he had pergorme throughout judea
For thirty pieces of silver he betrayed his master Because of his greed he condemned an innocent man to be banished from the land of living to abyss
And when the son of man was condemned his sense of guilt stirred from a deep slumber
He became despondent at his repulse by the chief priest and elders he cast down the accursed payment into the santuary
The gnawing guilt took him to a tree and with a thread rope he terminated his life
He burst asunder and for hundred year the smell of his bowels lingered in the potters field of which the betrayal money bought
On the hill of skull the man on the cross breathed last and into hell he descended not only to settle scores with the lord of underwords lucifer but to free the soul of his follower from abyss
For it was written he had to die for salvation of humankind and his betrayer was the first to b redempted
The man called judas triggered a series of pretold happening
The man called judas fulfilled old centuries prophecy
The man called judas ensured redemption knocked in every sinners door
The man called judas jumpsttsarted the birth of christianity
The man called judas need a better slot in our history
Mar 26, 2016
Mar 26, 2016 at 7:37 AM UTC
out goes the tide:
seafoam remains,
sticky white flecks caught on lips
of rock; how
sordid.
you traipsed on,
barefoot, undeterred by
pools of ocean-cum
splashed upon every
cove afforded by
soaking wet sand.
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 9:15 PM UTC
exact sunlight crafted a sudden touch to my silken edifice as i tender traipsed from the border of my sanctum into the golden clutch of so beautiful a shimmering
May 7, 2010
May 7, 2010 at 12:24 PM UTC
I dreamt a dream that a polar bear and its cub
entered a home.
A home that I was inhabiting with my mother and father.
At first, it only lounged around by the sliding glass door
(with its cub).
Very sleepy like, very casual.
But we were curious about its being around,
so we traipsed around the door, gazing at it.
Someone opened the door! ******
and I scrammed to some little-boy's bedroom,
locked all the doors, even the doors leading to the bathroom.
Sooner than later, my parents found a way into the bedroom where
I hid.
The polar bear was trying to get in,
to eat us we were assuming,
so we hid under the bed.
Then I said, "let's climb out the window!"
So we did. We sat outside by some bushes.
My dad called me at this moment (in real time),
said the fish weren't biting and he was going to go golfing.
I tried not to sound hung-over.
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 12:17 PM UTC
************
(Empty Gaze)
It was a journey, unwanted
you should've been with me, instead
i walked behind you
i sat beside you
not one bit did you care,
impenetrable, was your stare
i got dizzy from turning around
and ended in front of you, on the same ground.
your catatonic eyes, i sought
your disconnected gaze, i fought,
i waited, calmly
patiently,
stood there longer...your hand, i was scared to touch
you could've hopped, traipsed, dreamed too much
and i...could've been lost, in your world, on that old cold couch
our very own faded green couch....where, suddenly
unexpectedly
your eyes blinked and appeared startled
they seemed to have awakened
and challenged my stare
a frown surfaced
then a smile...brightened your face.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
oh, the fear is so great
an empty gaze must never again take place!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
you are now with me
next to me....the closest we can be
I feel the wind of your breath,
Your pulse, your heart beating
no more gaps, or spaces to keep us apart
our hands hold tight
bodies, softly pressed
as we now lay together...
you hug me tight, i know you feel much safer
i hug you back...tighter
i feel much, much better,
cause i'm now holding you...i've got you home,
we are both sheltered...in each other's warmth,
it matters not...we could lie, sit, or slouch,
the two of us...comfortably...in our own old couch.
It doesn't matter to me
where you had been
I'm begging......praying
no more empty gazes would occur
to part us............once more.
Sally
Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 6:31 AM UTC
She lives in a forgotten tone
thoughts of a fairy rhyme
Still taunting her fingertips
Today
the world felt heavier
but
Her pale blue eyes
Always shining despite the craters
She traipsed all over the city
Searching for her lost kick
Stuck in time
with words stuck in her throat
Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 12:58 PM UTC
As the other kids traipsed off to bed,
You held me on your knee,
I watched the cricket, next to him,
As they made history
The crack of the bat against the ball,
The cheering of the crowd,
I didn't understand it then,
And neither do I now
But his room would always smell the same,
Of mothballs, damp and sweets,
The three of us would all sit around,
In pyjamas with bare feet
The taste of garlic lingering,
The best food in the world,
And I knew what it meant to him,
To be next to his favourite little girl.
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 5:58 PM UTC
My answer to When did love begin:
Possibly when nature had no man
And then peace was first to love
It loved harmony and in return
Harmony loved peace
Until man traipsed in
And glimpsed his pale reflection
In the deep blue waters
Then peace found conflict
And harmony found discord
Love was lost to the lust of man
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 12:27 PM UTC
The city was laid bare:
like a patient upon the operating table
I walked the streets with precision
I was the scalpel carving communities from the fauna
the city was alive, and so it was truly sick
concrete jungle
projects and penthouses
the beleaguered old traipsed about, silent, but not quiet
the youth, rambunctious and carnal, feasted upon the dying
With each touch, I soothed the soul
Kisses, like antiseptic.
Lectures, like stitches.
Like cumulonimbus, the raucous ramblings of crowds grew
I said to myself, "It is fine, this is life, let it live."
Youth, ablaze with carrion wings, descend upon the old
beaks barrelling forward, pecking and snatching decency
still there are some who help
swooping down like proud eagles, they shoo away the scavengers
they beat back the tide of villainy
they shelter innocence, foster truth
but they are not enough...
I carve out the **** of corruption
I ventilate the lungs of the city and plug the punctures
but the pollution is virulent and stubborn...
Still, I say to myself, "This is poetry, love is a mystery, let them be."
I will hear them cry in the rain
I will not know my place
I might extend a hand, proffer an embrace, but
they will shy back,
for man will become monster
and God will become devil... in their eyes: deluded; poisoned by hate.
I will wonder where I went wrong.
Will I try my best to turn the helm against the wave,
go THROUGH the heart of the storm?!
Of course, I will try
I will try,
but I will fail.
Man will flaunt his freedoms, those which were freely given.
Despite my grief, I will say to myself, "All things have an end. There was nothing I could do."
I wonder to myself...
How many centuries have I folded my hands against the storm.
Behold! It's patience!
It will ever rise,
It will ever approach!
So long as man lies,
It will reach for his throat!
Man will always feign surprise,
It is a sickness he cannot broach...
As the color of morning skies is calming,
The fumes of the rumbling storm are maddening!
I always let the storm build until the lightning sets the world on fire
because
I thought the storm was man's voice in an inimical life...
But I was wrong, the storm is the beast that lurks in the shadows.
It sets the table for carrion.
The beast builds the cumulonimbus, preparing the kindling for the floods of war.
The storm's pallor stains man's skin so ubiquitously
That he mistakes the storm for himself.
Dec 7, 2017
Dec 7, 2017 at 7:12 PM UTC
This wandering pen
Has hacked through thickets
And traipsed the borderlands,
Praying in it's cold temples
And crossing its sweet-pined mountains
To find the same riverbank
Where its journey began --
Sep 6, 2019
Sep 6, 2019 at 8:08 AM UTC
I ache for the time when memories of you consisted of more than
embarrassment
and bold faced lies
When I didn't have to look back and cringe
Because even now, the conversations that include your name are ones where
I find out the truth
And I weep for the moments of comfort and happiness I shared with you
Even though those moments were genuine, they were tainted
You traipsed around with traces of other girls on your sweater
And I was too naive to notice
anything but the rhythm of your breath
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 3:52 AM UTC