"twinging" poems
Ode to the clouds of the far west
The rains that fell on the absence
Kept to grieve the sorrows of tomorrow
Ode to the waters of the blue seas
The waves that crushed on the bare soles
Left to sweat the love of the shy heat
Ode to the joys of the tears not cried
The smiles that faded with each warming heart
Bled to keep the life from the twinging strife
Ode to the war that never will end
The love that stokes the silent wails
Felt to **** the death of an aching soul
Aug 13, 2023
Aug 13, 2023 at 11:47 PM UTC
How are you?
[no I'm not. I'm not. Everything is falling apart] Great!
Hi!
[I need to hide. hide before my seams split open] What's new?
How was your day?
[frustrating. brick walls. ice daggers. you name it. I need a tall building] Not too bad, yours?
How are you feeling?
[shattered. please don't...I can't] Sleepy, a little.
[bursting out. spilling. tidal wave of complete wrongness. ribs rattling around uncontrollable feelings. rage. throat tight. calves twinging. head spinning] Smile!
Could you-
do you?
really desire this knowledge?
Unwanted, unwarranted, personally, so I won't regift.
I'm not sure your ears really want the weight of
it, anyway.
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 3:52 PM UTC
morning gracefully glides
over the lingering night,
icy crystals like diamonds
effortlessly hovering in the daylit sky,
sun's golden warmth
joins hands
with the twinging frost,
and the lingering night
gracefully glides
over the morning.
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 3:05 PM UTC
Sick today of twinging strings,
And watching the happiness that my magic brings.
Today is the peak of this ever lasting longing,
Far surpassing lustfull shortlived snogging.
I want a warm hand to clutch and hold,
And with me watch the beauty of this world unfold.
In perpetual youth his love will keep me.
instead of weary cold loveless and empty.
Immortality keeps me from this destiny,
for with it comes my lovers repeating finality.
Every death is always the same,
tormented in moments of heartaches pain.
I cannot love one or any at all,
for the climb gets higher from every fall.
ive lost the pleasure,
of these heavenly endeavours.
So in your hands i place the choice to love,
and set it on white wings of my most beautiful Dove,
and throw myself onto the tides of eternity,
never to feel the gifts of divine maternity.
or to waltz to a song.
that plays a single life span long.
Jan 4, 2011
Jan 4, 2011 at 5:27 PM UTC
From thy neck
To thy visage;
As thou doth
Ache, and thy
Head pound's;
Like a clock
With none
Ending. O'
How I want
To healeth thee, and sprinkle God's
elixírio upon thine twinging. As when I shalt,
In thine ear's; thou shalt feeleth ringing. The chiming wilt be
Of the prognosticator's breathing, as Yahweh's sovereignty, shalt explode through the poverty of the wrong's all flesh maketh. O' ourn Lord shalt giveth, not taketh, yet when he taketh; it's for the good to those that loveth God. His will unknown, a holy applause. As we wilt clap ourn hand's and bow to his throne. On knee's, head looking to his features, fulsome and overwhelming in the most amastery shown. His figure monumental, all ardent, upon his seat. Omnipotent in his pity; as therein lies the metropolis of the spiritual Host's, wherein none dead is aloud to enter, nor fearing, nor ghost's. Tis only a toast of the blueprint map of the city of King David, the new Jerusalem awaiteth to cometh down to earth. As thee mine vasílissa Jane, Elohim shalt cureth thine pain's; mayest the Almighty's name be praised, as right now the sickness is leaving thou, and returning to Tophet from whence it came.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley ( Filipino rose) dedication
Mar 4, 2016
Mar 4, 2016 at 8:19 PM UTC
The shards of a heavy dagger
Remain in me every moment.
You reached into my wound,
Wanton and haggard.
I gazed at the jeweled weapon
Tucked out of view
And the gape in my chest
I thought I outgrew,
Covered and sutured,
Well treated and healing.
But like a cold draft entering a weak archway,
You plunged deeply, weightlessly,
Leaving me reeling.
Poking, prodding,
Pointing out my shards and my scars.
I told myself I removed all of you
And the dagger soaked with love's poison.
You showed me shards from
The poisoned blade still linger,
The truth lies deeper than
Where I can put my finger.
You touched my wound with
The force of words.
How it stings with the sharpness of pain.
Twinging inside me,
Twisting like ivy,
Welling my eyes like a curse there to find me,
Pointing out my poison and shards,
Fiddling with the sutures of my scars,
And like a haunting winter's chill,
You left as quickly as the blood was spilled.
Apr 16, 2018
Apr 16, 2018 at 12:48 PM UTC
Wake up
get my weight up
walk to the kitchen, okay my meds ain't up,
What's this?
another nervous tick, shxt! I hope I can learn to deal with this.
Head twinging I think I better lay back down
Again? I feel like I'm an ostrich against my head in the ground
Wake up from my unintended nap
Now i feel a little bit better but my headache is whipping my a$$
Now this isn't a normal day for most
Forgive me for being a poor host
But my brain, because of my condition can haunt me and torture me like an unwanted ghost.
You see, I suffer from a disease called epilepsy
I'm not whining about it I've learned to carry this burden,
but people always asking "what's it like" is tedious like butter churning.
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 12:45 AM UTC
“Immediately a decisive alluring connection from the onset,
As our ****** accoutrement deceptive lay’s softly on ground,
As the captivation of our present euphoria lays beneath our skin,
Complacency and beatitude with the enticing joy betwixt us,
I had fallen in love with her as the flowers cling to the earth,
Hearts hewed as one beating with powerful acquiescence,
Convivial contentment to us both as eve slowly turns to daybreak,
Reflex of love there is enigmatic elation never before perceived,
Etiology of twinging with euphoria trail of kisses lingering afore,
As in the charisma of a cold chill of that as glacial trails,
Sensed make our blood run cold now as souls entwined,
May she never leave and forestall a broken nature of being,
I know that deep in the intensity of my heart you triumph,
There is invariably space for altruism to reside always,
For all the delectation that once were unified of ours,
I not endeavor to conquer my contemplative devotion,
Your flowering existence sheds invisible petals as I,
Claim them as something I could own should I keep them?
Or scatter them or are they even yours"
By Andrew Guzaldo © 09/01/2019 #165
Sep 1, 2019
Sep 1, 2019 at 2:17 PM UTC
Going to slaughter the death like a bull felling it on ground
binding tightly its four legs, we have made our earth
full of death more.
Going to uproot the shrubs of weeds,
we have filled our life-land with more weeds.
Going to destroy the darkness with all its roots,
we have fallen down slipping into the darkest ditch.
Our wisdom is now eating our whole body
pecking at all limbs like a vulture.
All our books and idle times of our laboratories
are biting our soul and existence, raising their hoods
like a cobra.
We do not know where we have reached
running like a bull tearing its rope.
Our science and technology are pouring black heat
upon our skulls.
Our dull eyes are getting overturned again and again
like an unhappy housewife hanging herself
with a ceiling fan.
Even the eyes of our heart are growing feeble and inactive
by getting fade every day.
Spitting upon all our rotten knowledge, wit,
welfare and blessing,
spitting upon our democracy twinging like a septic boil
and spitting upon all our destructive inventions,
we are eagerly waiting like swallows,
like the thirsty fish of a dry pond
or like the cracked fields of Summer-
if it rains!
if peace descends!
if the last white pigeon comes
flying from the distant sky-civilization out of this sky
engulfed with bombing planes,
carrying the message of peace!
Dec 13, 2015
Dec 13, 2015 at 11:51 AM UTC
This thinning wall of my heart has searched for healing over and over again.
Behind smiling eyes is a burning sadness.
Fake a smile, sing a song, fool them all.
I have a sunny disposition but a dark dark soul.
The louder I laugh, the harder I’m crashing.
Some days I wish to stay inside and never feel the sun on my skin.
Unaware of my own adversity.
Unaware of the negative energy pervading the minds of those around me.
Wallowing in what feels like a bad dream.
When this beautiful life awaits on the other side.
Tiny voices bursting loud with laughter.
Calling one of my many names.
Reaching toward this twinging heart.
With joy never so pure.
But all the while, the darkness waits in the shadows to consume me.
I try to run away.
A shrug of the shoulders to push the pain down. Build a happy wall. They won’t see me break.
But buried within my eyes, the lonely girl lives inside.
Feb 3, 2019
Feb 3, 2019 at 8:56 PM UTC
these things are my house, the
house of my body and my flesh
swing singing
singed and swaying
over grass cut freshly short
the knots and roots
of who trees blister
through the soil and meet
with feet
their rough and earthen body.
there is a light piercing the dull
night crisply hurt with twinging
of star song shaking and excellent
inside the smooth nearness
of its dark skin;
my hands make quick fingers
into nice fists of daylight
catching the strummed humming
of its string sound–borne over
the mouth of a mountain–
vibrates and intense.
i walk and the chilled asphalt
is the tiny sound of my feet,,
these halls of night
a rembrancer
and so newly full of nothing
stink with rose and thyme.
i am alive–
i hurt to love and to love
is hurting; my dear i love you
i told you a thousand times
(and a ****
i'm sorry because both.
i will live
–i guess maybe–
or i will die becoming
worm pursued eating
the earth as eating becomes
me
the new grass
which
(freshly cut)
grows under
the house
of your body.
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 3:07 AM UTC
Have you ever felt the ache?
That twinging,
gut-wrenching,
heart-breaking
need, when you're alone,
wishing they were near.
The tumultuous storm in your gut when
plans fall through,
or you have to go a
day
without
her?
But tell me, is it worth
that twinging,
gut-wrenching,
heart-breaking
feeling of guilty paranoia when you
sneak,
hide,
and lie?
There are two pains in this world,
that of loneliness,
and that of deceit.
Can you understand
my frustration
at the choice?
I want to
see you,
hold you,
kiss you,
but not in deceit.
I'm sorry if this ends us,
but lying will end me.
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 1:52 AM UTC
Sharp and seductive your words linger in my brian
Soft kisses, a wandering tongue, twinging bites
Your teeth on my skin and your hands on my waist
The pull of your sweet subtle venom compels me
I am yours to take piece by piece under your spell
Forever isn’t needed I merely want you in the present
Sanguine intoxication by the fantasy of what could be
Should forever take us both idyllically holding one another
Staring into locked eyes the glint of possibly beckons
Reality states I am merely another fledgling
Admirer bowing at your feet daring to stand up
I am a mirror and so are you, reflecting echos
Of what each of us thinks the other missed
Feb 22, 2025
Feb 22, 2025 at 8:51 PM UTC
Dark eyes and blood lips,
Hope versus few poison sips,
She chose goals to have a tight grip,
Of her life drowned like some huge ship,
Throbbing heart and twinging ribs,
She was just another mess fighting with hardships.
Jan 9, 2016
Jan 9, 2016 at 6:23 AM UTC
I heard the smooth jazz music
When she walked by
Heard the instant drop in the sound
As she flashed a smile
Could vaguely hear the bass
Twinging real low
As she moved like water
Without even knowing so
It was tough not to fall
Splat! At her feet
All I wanted to do
Was hear her symphony
I don't know what I drank
Was it the starry champagne
Or was it her, the one who captured me senseless
The one I was trying to taste
She was an assault on my senses
The deadliest one there ever was
Would've welcomed death openly
Had it been from her dart
I looked at that haunting assassin
Smiling that dooming smile
Didn't she know what she did
When she turned her eyes
I wished almost painfully
That she would keep on playing that jazz
What else could I do but listen and stare
I never even stood a chance
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 5:38 PM UTC
Louder now than ever
I hear that twinging song,
see the crimson scriptures
writ of iron-tipped scrawl;
thinking not about the pain
but seeking some control.
Jul 21, 2021
Jul 21, 2021 at 8:26 AM UTC
His touch clings to me
like spider webs
a tickling irritation.
When I’m stressed -
I wake up -
Fighting him off.
My body remembering his careful violence.
My mind branding over new lovers
with his fingerprints.
Want to mutilate my brain
shed this skin who recalls him
so easily.
No unconscious memories
of other touches
from anyone but him.
I will never forgive or forget.
Condition away this conditioned response.
When will I be free?
Of a man who doesn’t remember me.
--
I see his features in other men.
That gorgeous corn silk blond hair,
the strong, masculine jaw
even the cuteness of his ears.
Somehow that tugs at my heartstrings
The twinging pain disgusts me.
How can I still feel this way?
I want to puke up this venom.
The vitriol burning my mouth.
Exorcise the malicious spirit
that wails in my ear
when I see
YOU.
Or someone who almost looks like you.
My teeth sunk deep in anger.
You foolish, reckless girl - how could you let this happen?
How could you let him do this to you?
How can I forgive myself?
I don’t know how to.
My forgiveness will never be hinged to him.
He will never earn it.
I want to forgive myself.
My naivety, my hope, my lust.
I went in search of affection and base needs of physical touch
Repulsed by his violating me.
Leave me alone, leave me alone, leave me alone
let me go, let me go, let me go.
I’m sorry to me for what I didn’t know would happen.
I’m sorry to me that I still blame myself for my violation.
I’m sorry to me how this trauma has burned me so deeply.
How I wish the salve of time and journaling would heal me completely.
I’m sorry to me that I still can’t quite let go.
How he still follows me around - at least metaphorically.
I want my forgiveness.
Jan 15, 2020
Jan 15, 2020 at 1:19 AM UTC