"transience" poems
**1.Language
Dissolved in a kiss
their eyes created
a new language.
2.Symbol
there was an eloquent
black mole
under her lower lip
3.Silence
The unruly crowd
fell silent
in her profound presence
4.Delusion
Her lover, an anthropologist,
suspected her as a new species!
5.Take bath now, not for cleanliness
Her bathing him wasn't
about cleanliness;
amorous explorations aren't.**
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 10:49 AM UTC
The nightsky is alike a mighty mansion of the stars which then
twinkle in elegance, beauty and transience until the dawn outshines them in a graceful manner.
As the night turns away from the sun and from her light, danger
in our imagination could await, from the corners of our very mind.
Yet the stars make up a soft blanket, a cover of the calmest of light,
which could bring peace to a soul which is performing a rampage.
All the constilations, all the names and forms which reveal themselves, are but a heavenly spectra for those who are nocturnal.
Or for those, whom have meet the cruel fate to be allergic to the natural, straight forward, warming and blissful sunlight.
There is no soul with no protector, in the nightsky such would be
a bright,piercing star, standing proud,manifest its location is over you
Holding many wonders, the beauty of the night comes with shooting stars, which at times shortly sweep over the heaven before fading.
Wishes are made upon, hope fills their hearts, for a better future
or a fulfilment of their desires, tangled up within the depth of mind.
Night becomes bright once the moon shines, in its fullest posture.
Becomes dark once the rainclouds drive near, calling in thunder.
But most importantly, it is a time of rest, from all this earth beholds
~ Umi
Feb 10, 2018
Feb 10, 2018 at 1:30 AM UTC
Static, memories
Emanating, separating
The postcard- perfect
Still life speaks
From its storied past.
Invisible, to drift
Among
The florid aphorisms,
Ending in
Deleterious debris,
Aftermath of
The inevitable.
Empty room, echo hollow
Tabula rasa -
Carpet clean, quite candid in it's
Return to callow.
Consciousness athirst,
Absorbing phenomena
Effervesce, inquisitive
Ideas foment,
Sealed inside a question.
The what -
Against the narrow
Scarcity,
And fatigue of should.
A tender malleable
Youth,
Betrayed, under
An assumed decorum -
Residue of truth,
Flattened emotion
Privations of a self
Unheard;
Misplaced affirmation,
Buried pathologies
In architecture
Fear manifests symbolic.
Harboring apathy
The lunacy of pious
Pedigree,
Import contagion,
Fetters of benignity
Doubt and indecision
Into ******
Cognizance,
Fallow spirits
Seep fumes of decay,
Credulity bleeds a human stain.
Social edifice, inoculated
Heirs of neurosis;
Palpable, sensual pain
And transience, though
Tacit - remain,
Our haunted history,
The blind hyperbole,
Maudlin
Forbearance, this haven,
A portrait
Of immaculate condition,
Nurtured with precision
Under sterling pretense.
Provincial domicile -
House beautiful,
Savage irony -
Unseen treasure
Innocence unabridged,
Faces, tiny creations;
Compliant vessels
Wounded,
While modernism murmurs
Its promise.
Brave New World,
In a late model sedan,
Domestic ranch on a
Corner lot,
Suburban natives,
Silence means security.
The misunderstood
Speak louder -
Consumerism beneath
Unvarnished ambition,
Never could
Repair the brokenness within...
© 2011 & 2018 W. S. Warner
Oct 20, 2011
Oct 20, 2011 at 5:38 PM UTC
Feelings, the treasure of ones heart,
A flame, cast ablaze by the purity of righteousness, warm alike sunlight, yet not as burning or uncomfortably hot if exposed too long,
As embracing, as a motherly tugging hug, full of love and dearness,
It feels so gentle, like a soft breeze, sweetly touching the blossoming petals, after a soft rain pours water over their delicate, little bodies,
So warm, as if enlightment were close to reach beyond the border of consciousness, growing strong and happy, alike a peach tree,
Celestial is what it tastes like, sweeping over my transience in awe,
It is but an emotion, which would soften a stone hard heart and make it alike cotton and wonderfully sweet as candy from amongst heaven,
Inner peace, served on a golden plate behind a courtain of sunlight, describing the greatest pleasure,your drink and thankfulness for what you have, without greed, the desire to have more, despising violence,
And even though humans will keep on living, such whilst being in a wretched, poor state, destined to fight on and hope for the better,
Living, is what I find very beautiful.
~ Umi
Apr 22, 2018
Apr 22, 2018 at 6:07 PM UTC
My heart I bequeath you
O’ stillness of my universe
I bequeath you my sanity
Spreading this cloak of being in your dust
I bow to your twinkling stars
To the waxing sun and scented grass
I bow to your springing rivers
To the parched grain and blossoming flowers
I bow to the warmth of my lover
And want of my beloved
I bow to your saccharine figs
And honeyed nectar in chalice filled
I bequeath my mortality to your transiency
Blinded by this light in game of ruse
Into your cohesiveness, I fuse
In blinkers to win the race
Espying a king in glass
Presage of being a slave
Yet when darkness falls
I furl my cloak and solemnly rise
For I bow not then
To your barren fields and waning suns
I bow not to your garish colors,
To the cloying drupe and wilted blossoms
Bracing my feeble transience
With my tenet and trail of faith
I bow to the King of kings;
Whilst I beseech for emanating hope,
In my tigers clasp, my God’s rope
I beseech,
Till the noise becomes music again
And as I gaze in the glass now,
All I espy is a beseeching slave
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 2:17 PM UTC
The wind blows on a restless night
No fright, sight or cloud creep around in the tranquility of darkness,
A drizzle, brought by a softer breeze from seemingly nowhere drives near, dispersing the light brought by the sweet waning gibbous moon
And so, a grand rainbow, yet dim has been cast across the dark sky, filling it with both hope and glamour and blessed optimistic tender,
Impulisive shooting stars, racing across the sky and illuminating it,
In great numbers, one would think someone let the stars rain down instead, as they shine, then shoot across the horizon, never to bee seen again, each wishing, leaving their bright trails behind as travelers,
Appearing like a cosmic chess board, the flare stars dance in a festival of pure energy in the light of a white nights eternal moon, beaming,
The legend of a first wish, travelers which bring infinite fortune, brought to those whom believe in a shooting stars power and might,
The legend of the second wish, simply infinite power brought in light
And the last wish is carried by the realisation of transience, right before the night has come to its end, a last traveler shoots across the sky, it is the wish of immortality, an eternal life which cannot vanish.
But, the last wish, is a greater curse than hell or death itself.
~ Umi
Apr 5, 2018
Apr 5, 2018 at 6:04 PM UTC
The earth's people are corrupted,
Listen to what I have to confess!
If there are emotions behind their motives, they will search and look into things which they should have been better off unseen, forgotten,
If their wish is to become alike a demon, they will dye their hand red,
If their desire leads them to be angel like, they will dye their hand in innocence and purity of the good deeds in order to achieve this goal,
The sweet poison of a lie's flavour is very sweet, likely to be consumed by those who are afraid to confront the cruel, harsh truth,
Bound in constant change, the true nature of a human remains, within the depths of their soul, somewhere deep inside, sealed away,
Admire the moon, as the remains, called corpse rots under stardust,
Does its reflected light begin to wander ? We will see, here at eternity,
After all, this natural satelite, becomes more distant due to tidal effects, leaving us behind, even if it is simply small steps it has taken,
Being forgiven from the endless purgatory, the suffering one may call
"Living" within the transience of this planet which comes to ruin through their greedy hands, desires to make more income and wealth
Drawn out in long shadows, through winding fate amongst strings,
After all, this is a pure stream of sadness.
~Umi
Apr 7, 2018
Apr 7, 2018 at 6:00 PM UTC
Bidding farewell to the warmth,
The bells of a spring path ring, to the sound of the wind,
Which has once again, crossed the stream of time, as it usually does,
The transience of the day, already lost due time, the sun remains as a traveler, whom appears to have crossed the Zenith again,
It's scorching heat is to be felt, exposed to it almost as if it was to be to set the skin ablaze, truly these sunrays, are unforgiving at this time,
Sorrow and misery, are to burn into ash by this heat, a purifying flame of affectionate happiness, embracing those who have found themselves to be in love with the natural, decending, light,
Beyond the boundaries, the mystery of our living power remains unknown, all what is left is a spark in the dark, beyond the sunshine,
The evening welcoming this world is soon to be radiating in joyful light, wandering aimlessly the time for the sunset draws near,
Beyond the Zenith, lies the transience of the passing time.
~ Umi
May 1, 2018
May 1, 2018 at 9:36 AM UTC
Splitting the sea,
The wind I feel, keeps crossing over time, clearing the path between a sea of truth and lies, revealing what was hidden within such misery,
Amongst an ocean of common sense, opens the true pathway,
Cross it, by the miracle created in the dearness you held so close,
Caught within the border of life and death, you cannot be swept away
Don't be built on sand, the one you are walking on, wet, fragile and likely to fall apart within the barriers of water, pillars rising up to you, yet there is no need to worry, have faith, your transience remains
Distortion, clouded within judgement of two sides which only one is righteous about, oh how trecious, lies cannot win a long run yet try to
mislead and falsify the facts of life for ones owns benefits and needs,
The truth however, may be harsh and hard to take, yet has a sweeter taste than the best lie given, even though, you may end up deserted.
Those liars, they chase after you for not following them, yet when the sea collapses they surely will drown in the reigns of the truthful water
Looking at what I desire to accomplish, is to break the boundaries with this miraculous wind, be carried away, softly, gently swaying,
Carrying my wings, fighting on until the moment when I should fall,
Until the moment this path is overtaken by the ocean again
~ Umi
Apr 20, 2018
Apr 20, 2018 at 6:01 PM UTC
it's night now
and events have stopped.
Stillness evades the froth of evening
calm leather moves none under the fabric.
This home -- older than our world -- flushed
with wisdom -- flushed with glee -- flushed
with the violent storm of transience and
correction -- eyesight jiggled and adjusted
for new intentions -- meaning frisked for
rocks on a Boeing --
it's night now
and events have stopped.
you have stopped.
I have stopped.
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 2:53 PM UTC
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
Closure invents a reason to let go;
that hoped-for last **** is
anything but
Life is cataclysmic.
Seizing an imagined moment
in a now that ends
before its beginning
signifies a slavery to transience
so complete and pervasive
that words heave and shudder
in its withering folly
Timeless puzzles are incompletable
by artifice; rather, resignation
to disparate pieces,
and identification with neither
the pieces that didn't fit,
nor those that did
The period does not
complete the sentence.
The sentence ends
when it is finished.
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 4:58 PM UTC
Google is the gift for
An inquisitive student,
Who is in search to
be knowledgeably potent.
Although it makes
One so dependent,
It bestows erudition
That is too consistent.
Google serves us with mail,
That saves our time to sail.
It’s services like the maps
Leaves a stranded person to bridge the gaps.
Gaps? Yes, it bridges the gaps
With all its possible apps,
The interests of the public
And concepts of the prolific.
When Google well handed
Our queries have added,
Whose possible solutions have multiplied,
For which the efforts been phenomenally divided.
With the transforming technologies
In this world of transience
Google has procured
Its own state of omnipresence.
Thus, Google has become the tool
With which the user can rule.
It endows as a surfing equipment
Hence, Google is the gift for a Student.
Jan 7, 2020
Jan 7, 2020 at 1:40 AM UTC
Untarnished snowflake
resting gently upon my knee
Symmetrical, unique
Floated gently there, as if
Aware of its transience.
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 9:11 PM UTC
( ) ) (( )(())
No cold wind blew
to abate this afternoon's heat...
no rain showers brought out
that sweet smell of very dry soil
...........touched by rainfall
tonight, my mind is occupied by
the transience of things
all thoughts are fleeting
inspirations are hard to capture...they're
soap bubbles, flying...bursting in the air
"bubbles"......made me turn to my left
where a wineglass stood, and sparkled...
my eyes stopped, stunned...a bottle of Prosecco,
was within reach......it beckoned...
ahhhhhh......sips came one after the other,
much delight in its bubbles...in its taste...
i want to be numb from nagging pain,
from the cries...the anguished sighs
that can never go, without a tear falling...
bubbles of pain...slowing down
the passing of days....but all these
will wane one day,....and be part
of the banalities of my diurnal life...
just like in the past, this, too, will pass...
this late hour, again, i raise my glass,
and drink away my days of woe...high
to the bright lights
for, a different kind of radiant yellow
drives away my trail of shadows
i will just smile
even for a while
and enjoy its bubbles
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Sally
Copyright September 15, 2017
rrab
Sep 16, 2017
Sep 16, 2017 at 2:01 AM UTC
Our mother, Gaia, shall never die
Though for us I cannot speak
When Terra does turn her back to our kind
Our might shall seem so meek
Roaring flames do lick her skin
While Chaos’ storms do rage
But Mother Earth will retreat within
And turn to a blank new page.
Zeus will fall when the skies go black
His wife, Hera, to follow when families dissolve
Once the gods fall there’ll be no way back
And hubris will be our final resolve.
Chronus may falter when there’s nobody alive
To observe the passage of hours
When the clocks have all stopped,
Gears unturning under toppled clock towers
No grandfathers left to chime.
But Gaia will live on in sleep so bereft
Long after we’re lost to time.
With no men to wage wars, Ares will fade
Athena too as innovation runs dry
Aphrodite may weep when there’s no love to be made
Hermes, when there’s nowhere to fly
And though our sun will live past our end,
There’ll be no chariot of gold
No homes, no hearths for Hestia to tend
And no music for Apollo to behold
We have long lost one of the faces
Of Artemis, the huntress under moonlight’s reign
And civilization (so-called) now erases
Pan, the wild god, and his sacred domain
What next, I now ask, shall we bid our farewell?
What aspect of humanity lost?
As we stumble along nearer to Hell
Whom shall be the next forgot?
But fear thee not, for life’s most precious gift
is the transience, the temporal nature of Earth
All will change, all will shift
and perhaps a different Cosmos may birth.
Once the stardust settles, a new something to arrive
And we shall perhaps there meet once again
Tied by fresh cords of fate to share new lives.
And all the while, she’s waited for us
Watching and loving those souls immortal
Taking new forms now from different dust
She’ll rejoice and rebirth the primordial
They will rise and then fall and eventually make way
For the pantheon of a new universe to arise
Perhaps not all will look the same--
But close enough for essence to find.
Sep 5, 2023
Sep 5, 2023 at 3:54 PM UTC
a world
of distant voices and glittering echoes
painted with a thousand sunsets
that I've poured into my eyes
to find some relief from this tiredness
Days walk beside me, years run ahead
I wish I could collect all the silences
between all that I've said
and fill them in with things
I've lost to time
Thank you notes spill from my hands to yours
The permanence of things begins to fade among dialogue once shared
There is a world I have spent building
With stories and reminders
you left for me
I hope you'll find in it
the transience of an anger
that ceases to be
Feb 15, 2024
Feb 15, 2024 at 10:25 PM UTC
And thus when the sun would rise, it should be determined;
I had lost, failed to wipe out the transience of a dreams miracle,
Leaning back as the stars fade one after another in the brightening sky
I find myself smiling, at the disappearing sight of the lunar rabbit after the moon too had sunken down to rest without a single cloud having witnessed it, the heavens remain only filled with great light.
While everyone rejoyed with a big smile to the morning which welcomes them to be again, hard working and productive, I can't help it but to feel sad, having to accept my destiny of never breaking free.
The fleeting time passes aimlessly, only for me to have faint courage,
Glooming, one would even embrace the darkness which befalls the world at a time which ceases to let even crystal starlight seep through,
This is where the dreams created in the world of fantasy are born,
That's a repeated story, they bloom, scatter then fall, recycling again.
Shining and withdrawing itself, there is always my presence in a dream, so dance in the dark night my beloved servant, have we really lost if I do not fade away and perish ~ ? Yes, we have, sadly enough.
Yet I should engage ourselves with the solance;
I don't have to die in a dream.
~ Umi
May 11, 2018
May 11, 2018 at 6:07 PM UTC
My love for you, endures everlasting sleeplessness,
your head to my chest lays the final stick
to my fruitwood nest
your scent will cultivate
a woodland stream
in a single sense of clarity
can comfort this body
this profound beauty you possess,
extends a distinct paralyzing permanence over my fateful transience,
our afternoon of initiation,
impart transcendence over all other days spent,
in a hats off, upper hand revolution, unsurpassed
My highest conceit ranks leagues above
as I give my resolve in contented surrender
Jun 6, 2018
Jun 6, 2018 at 9:27 PM UTC
This cold night, prompts us
to creep closer to each other,
warm ember glow of far away galaxies
pierce through the laden darkness effortlessly
find way to be near us, wink happily.
Love keeps our expectant bodies warm
light years stand sentinel to our transactions.
What a strange contradiction, is this!
but realization dawns in a moment that
it's the cosmic truth, absolute:
an open secret of life,
we straddle both, now and timelessness!
Eternity is in our genes, just the same
that glows in stars, millions of light years away,
we are clothed in transience, at this moment.
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 2:54 PM UTC
Created by dopamine and memories entitled with the sweetness of life, this process of thought becomes a nice place to rest and hide,
From the cruelty of what misery life could hold upon us if we didn't fight back, do something to make a day blissful, at least for a moment,
Serene and clear, events which occur far or near, are a trigger for this,
Created by an imaginated landscape inside my heart, forming from the techtonics of the transience, from those I hold dear to myself,
Step by step, on passing time, joyful memories seep through my head,
Sure there are those, who would find glee in even a clouded raining sky, but it is well to know; it comes in all different kinds and ways,
A mysterious but beautiful lense, reflected by a raindrop from the drizzling cloud, whichs mission it is to fertilise the earth, so may life grows out from the gentleness of the suns majestic golden light,
Perspective, is what makes thoughts wonderful and happy, or drenched in the deepest misery of ones own nightmare fueled fears,
Rain drops, seen as tears could turn to jewels, cast in the smile of your beloved, sitting with them, watching the rain showering a landscape,
No matter the weather, this world shines brilliantly as long as you keep your heart from being drenched by sorrow and let it soar into the blue sky, carefree, pure and filled with wonderful happy thoughts
Umi
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 10:47 PM UTC
Enraptured in
a fevered spasm,
Captured in the
mind's phantasm,
Swimming through
the ectoplasm,
Pouring from the
roaring chasm,
Hidden in the
soul's recess
A subtle, gentle,
warm caress
So jubilant, it
doth redress,
The hindrances which
so suppress,
The progress of the
spirit's wellness,
Showing things which
words can't tell us,
Giving gifts, which
none can sell us,
Do you
hear the
bell that's
ringing?
ringing
from a
distant
shore?
It resonates from
mammoth spheres,
In orbit, shedding
countless years,
Through aeons of
causality,
And boundless
temporality
We see how worlds
arise and cease,
We see how yearning
lays the fleece,
The wool over the eyes,
deceiving, cool
Dispassion's peace
relieving, our
Great webs
of pain and sorrow,
Darkening,
to light the morrow
For as all things
must come apart,
So suffering's,
great work of art,
is merely but
a transience,
receding slowly
in the dark.
Jan 6, 2019
Jan 6, 2019 at 9:15 PM UTC
Not in the object revered
But in the imperfect beholder
Glows the light of inspiration.
Through eyelids facing west
The auburn canvas spreads.
Smell of damp pine needles
Carried by the dry retreating winds.
Not in the balance, do I marvel,
But in the transience of the moment
That threatens to justly divide
The hours between light and dark.
For strife is the eternal essence of life,
Strength of my sinew,
As I relentlessly roll the boulder
And watch gravity undo my labour.
But, there is no strife more revolting
Than THIS.
Cleaving ‘I’ from the rest
And assuming superiority -
An imperfect beholder.
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 2:59 PM UTC
On the mangrove bank of the tidal river
lie embedded the mollusks,
they appear mournfully motionless,
deceiving you to believe
they’re too passive to be alive,
are just displays of dead shells
in their muddy graveyard,
though the truth is
they are mystic monks
silently enduring their estuarine transience,
bidding in meditation the time
the return tides carry them to their marine abode.
Aug 16, 2013
Aug 16, 2013 at 2:23 AM UTC
Ephemeral light
Transience, transgressing flaws
Of eternity
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 8:19 AM UTC