"uncaptured" poems
a half line
incomplete stanza
an unrhymed sentence
well defined trauma
the poet's thought
uncaptured on the paper
many drafts
and crushed papers
around the study
there is a lot
same thoughts
and some sought
no process
little sense
world of words
and many buds
more time needed
to bloom
and here comes
the start of coming doom.
Jun 23, 2018
Jun 23, 2018 at 12:49 PM UTC
I’ve stripped in front of mirrors
Poles on the side
Legs loose
Insanity.
I’ve closed eyes to kiss
Opened my mouth to twirl with tongues.
Nose against his
I’ve smelt his scent, took it to have.
Before bottom lips were felt,
I’ve laid against chests
Heartbeats whispered in ears .
Desperate for changes to cease the moment.
These lips have bled,
They have laid lives;
One in caskets
The other living to tell the tale .
My canvas rescued in fairytales.
He dug in these cherry lips
Threw uncaptured souls on my covers.
I’ve spread wide in these sheets
Dripped with Pit-bull drools
These hands have raised
Have nurtured
Have done hand jobs.
Black roses I’ve blown for.
In my high
I’ve read minds
I’ve been Queen
Dressed in feathers
Crowned with featherless pigeons.
1,2,3.
I slipped out of my fantasy
To be laid yet again on this bed.
Another one night stand to hold on to.
Only these walls will live to tell the tale
Of my devoured bottom lips.
Jan 4, 2018
Jan 4, 2018 at 12:15 PM UTC
Spring in Kansas.
It doesn’t come in softly.
It roars in with the wind and rain beating against a steel roof, washing into the old soddies and stone,
Clearing out winter in one giant breath.
The change comes within a week,
From dry dead, brown, to startling green, an emerald landscape of winter wheat.
The emerald isle has nothing on Kansas in the Spring.
Then the color starts, red buds against glorious green fields
and thunderous skies, a painters dream uncaptured.
And forsythia, the first blooms, beautiful and stark.
Crocus, daffodil and dandelion crowning the ground with gold.
The trees, bare of leaves, burst forth with flowers in shades of white and pink and the magnolias burst forth, ready to fly off the tree.
Our mighty cotton wood, drooping with frills that will become light catching tufts in the early summer sun as the leaves murmur their constant song, piling like snow in the heated streets.
Thunder rolls as lightning strike turning day into night with hail filled clouds and twisters striking like Greek gods, angry and awesome.
Creeks flood and clear the way for tadpoles and crawdads in streams and pools.
Spring comes, the earth warms, we all wake and stretch and wait for the sunflowers to do the same, yearning to the summer sun.
May 13, 2010
May 13, 2010 at 11:26 AM UTC
The first smooch kiss
A spring night
Moonlit pastoral lake
Dancing elm, oak, and pear
Mild breeze
Courting song of crickets and katydid
Secrecy and silence
Standing close, smiling, and stirring
Our necks tilted on the right
One hand behind and one front
Thumbs caressing the face
And fingers
releasing the locks of your hair
Our hands massaging behind and front
The adorable landscape of love
Bump and *******
Belly and waist
Crossed legs
Delirious smell of the skin
Taste of your rosy lips and sweet saliva
The taste of one another
Outer eyes closed, inner open
My upper lip between your lips
Your lower lip between mine
Rubbing, pressing, ******* kissing
Small and big, short and long
Goose bumps and blushing
Breathtaking, timelessness, breathless
Uncaptured, indefinable moment!
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 12:42 PM UTC
It was a beautiful rainy day.The rains showered like blessings from the sky to mother earth.The drops drizzled over several stunning creations of God. The ***** frog winked in fright when the tiny drop thumped on its peeping head which it had kept out from its water world curious to know what's happening outside.The lazy ladybird hides itself in the rug of leaves it hopped and played till then.Little dusty leaves quivered with joy as they rejoiced and celebrated the long waited bath.
Far aloof,the village looked so spanking new than ever after it was wetted by the light rain.so modest,so composed,the radiating sun put itself out of sight making way to the pompous clouds.Besides all these petite feelings,the livid eagle gaped at the sky sniping for it had missed its daily glide over the rusty mountains.
All these tiny things shaped out the background,while the main subject remains undescribed yet.The big fat buffalo stands aright in tranquility as if nothing new happened.Its skin so tight,shining so bright,created a beautiful sight as the raindrops tapped on it pitter patter.Its horns like engraved artifacts mirrored each other and stood still amazed at their similarity.The momentary muddy puddle covered up its hooves.
And now comes the most interesting foreground of the picture. It’s the little cute boy!!! Small dark brown eyes...Umpteen hopes filled in them. He wore the most beautiful jewel on his face....it’s his smile gleaming with merriment. While his tiny hands held tight the wicker, his entire little body hid itself behind the huge gunny he wore to shield against the shower. He hopped over the small puddle creating beautiful waves and exquisite splashes.
And that forms the most beautiful picture about which my dad told me.The little boy is none other than my dad. :) :) .
Apr 28, 2013
Apr 28, 2013 at 7:19 AM UTC
Running around
with a childish smile
discovering the surroundings
A little girl
and her innocence
are those which many find
incredibly delighting
After years and years
of uncontrollable curiosity
her innocence
is distant
as it seems to fade away
uncaptured by the very glance
of her pure eyes
Jun 6, 2021
Jun 6, 2021 at 3:26 PM UTC
The beauty of life isn't captured in files nor profiles.
It's in a blink or a thought of a distant place.
It lies in emotions that reminice of a time not yet spent.
It is a few seconds in a multiple uncaptured frames.
It lies in the ignored existence of composure.
It influences the untapped recognitions of appreciation.
The beauty of life is not about me showing or telling.
It's only about a few thoughts that inspire ambitions.
A few dreams that elevate fantasies.
The beauty of life is about me in a second painting a picture of elegant brush strokes,
the motion of the eye that composes a visual symphony,
it is an organised cluster of sounds that co-ordinates the performances of all other senses.
It is about leaving open a beat of the heart, only to fill it with the energies of the living.
The beauty of life isn't about searching for joy,
but learning from memories of both depression and tranquility.
It is about the heart losing weight,
the smile gaining width and height.
The beauty of life is about the value of sorrow depreciating.
For me it's about ploughing joy from seeds of madness,
or overturning a frown into a thing of beauty.
It's about dreams that don't need me to sleep and nightmares that have no back up files.
The beauty of life...
As much as I try to define it,
the statements always have a questionmark at the end.
So forever I search, for the beauty of life...
Jul 14, 2011
Jul 14, 2011 at 8:19 AM UTC
A nighttime recess.
An awareness embedded
within the thickened folds,
layered - one upon another.
Second upon second.
Minute over minute.
Hour after hour.
Rendering me unheard
and vague.
A stream of consciousness
that runs uncaptured.
Unexplained and unreasoned.
Consistent and tiresome.
Haphazardly predictable.
Routine like
clockwork.
Mar 5, 2019
Mar 5, 2019 at 12:13 PM UTC
Watch out as we struggle to maintain
the withering roots with a dose of intolerance
Blasted through the decade aged monitor that
We can't afford to replace because these
suits and briefcases are tattered together to call substantial and the white building you cruise to each day ain't that blinding anymore
For all the 'accidental' 'unknown' and 'uncaptured' hangings you dated
And the collar around your necks
Got no creases in them
Like those on the hand of his sister
as she sits by the coffin
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 2:11 PM UTC
In life, there are so many instances where we see some of the most amazing scenes but regret of not having an SLR camera with us to capture 'em. I have so many such beautiful pics captured in my brain and just wanna put them out here!! ;)
It was a beautiful sunny day in spite of being rainy season…I got ready to office in a very typical hurry – burry leisure and came out to bus stop. I have one good habit of not getting i-rated even if the bus does not show up for half an hour or so. That’s mainly coz I start observing every minute thing during the wait : P Like the way people walk, the patterns on morning sky, various fonts used on shop names, people’s expressions in vehicles…what not :D .
Amidst these inspections, one view caught my sight in delight. I saw a middle aged lady in her dusty clothes. She looked pale and thin with curly hair that looked not so neat. She was sweeping the shoulders raising a lot of sand. While all was nothing so special, came a little girl running from where I donno!!.The lady looked at her keeping aside her broom and took over her on her shoulders.
As I moved my eyes a little to the right, I saw a dirt cart which is usually kept to throw the garbage. Here follows the most astonishing scene. To my disbelief, the lady placed the kid in it. She continued sweeping. From the background of many huge trees, the sun rays escaped out and lightened up the whole natural setting that was created. Now all I saw was laughter on the little angel not bothered about anything in the world but the dust that was rising. She clapped and clapped her hands while it looked like the sun rays also joined their hands to make an unheard tune. So unintentionally and innocently, did her movements create various stunning patterns of dirt that created a foggy look.
This was the moment I wanted to click it J
Apr 10, 2013
Apr 10, 2013 at 7:14 AM UTC
Memories remain
if the heart desires.
Uncaptured moment
ain't it more significant?
There is no proof it existed,
just intangible feelings and faith.
Aug 31, 2016
Aug 31, 2016 at 7:24 AM UTC
The wind has for ages blown
Across the earths vast face
Carrying rain and snow and clouds
To every earthen place
It makes the mighty oak to bend
Gently carries the butterfly
And unseen fills that great vast space
Between the earth and azure sky
The wind causes leaves to dance
It makes the prairies grass to sway
It travels when and where it wants
Be it night or day
It silently climbs the snowy mountains high
And walks through the emerald valleys low
Unseen by the human eye
Wind is present everywhere you go
The wind is cool upon the skin
Of a man who works and sweats
A sweet relief from the heat
When skin and wind have met
It causes ocean waves to rise
Then to crash upon the shore
It causes the windmills blade to turn
To bring up water never tasted before
It may be felt as a gentle hand
Or it may blow so very strong
It may come at a moments notice
Then just as quickly it is gone
It carries ships across the sea
As the sails of the ship harness its power
And it will bring to a thirsty land
A long awaited springtime shower
The wind will sometimes speak to you
With voices from another time
If you will only stop to hear
As around you it runs and climbs
Spirits from long ago
Ride upon the wind
Seeking to tell their olden story
Will you listen and be a friend
The wind forever remains unseen and free
Uncaptured or held by human hand
And will continue on its eternal journey
Forever over ocean , sky and land
Each breath we breathe and each word we speak
Even our soul is forever captured by what we cannot see
And carried forth into the future
To remain for all of eternity
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 9:18 AM UTC
What subtle and suggestive words I wish I could speak to your sublime beauty.
If a picture itself is worth a thousand poetic words
and life itself is a collection of unending, unaiming, uncaptured pictures
then what sweet words could be said to you with these lips
with this pen
that wouldn't be better expressed in action,
reaction,
interaction,
interwinement,
***********
well of course;
I am a coward
and I say nothing to you
and I linger on in null contemplation
of the slippy words I would weave
as they stay sadly swimming in my clouded mind.
Dec 31, 2012
Dec 31, 2012 at 1:52 AM UTC
The lullaby of loneliness
Envelopes you in the dead of sparkly nights
Gazing up at the unchanging constellations
You crash down from its dizzing musical heights
The lullaby of loneliness
Alone forms the haunting lament
Springs forth from the deepest recess of your heart
Giving away isolation's uncaptured scent
The lullaby of loneliness
Day in and day out, I'll sing it to you
If only in return for the beautiful melancholy
You would fill up my heart, where it first grew
The lullaby of loneliness
Remains elusive forever
To so very few..
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 1:23 PM UTC
If an idea
upon its genesis
goes
unspoken,
unwritten,
uncaptured,
unknown,
it will perish
in a puff of smoke
like water
in a summer’s drought.
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 9:26 PM UTC
*Not everything can be captured through lenses,
not every beauty can been seen through the eyes
which we behold
Like, Moon beaming overhead,
peeping through the trees
but not a single snap can be captured to feel that beauty..
Those beautiful moments walking with you
down the roads empty and quiet yet uncaptured
but our laughter submerged through the stillness...
I captured nothing..but kept all our memories
safely into the locked up into my heart..
I wish nothing..no future,
but my friend Thank you for being there for me.
I'm enjoying & living the present moment with you
one day at a time.
And I believe, I am not wasting my time with you
rather I'm busy creating cherishing memories with you..*
Apr 11, 2017
Apr 11, 2017 at 6:45 AM UTC
Days drag by
Weeks fly away
Months pass without being known
The sun comes in and out
The clouds stay
Forever unchanged
Moments leave in a blur
Scenes trail in my eyes
Uncaptured pictures negate life
Film dies in the projector
Music never heard
Books just burn
Words fail
Actions decrease
The moon comes about
The stars shine
Light passes through
Smiling to the night
Breathing in the air
The dark blanket above
Warm to the sight
Tasting new life
Words appear
Moments come back
Scenes transcend in the mind
Days come along
Weeks take their time
Months pass by
Waiting for the next day
To come …
Apr 9, 2013
Apr 9, 2013 at 7:59 PM UTC
Whats lost when the masses
Make a pose. All of them out there
Standing the streets
So natural and frozen
I could disapear for eons
Hoping
Ill live forever
Regretting the punishment
Of
Knowing I forgot my third eye
To observe
the forgettable souls simmer and
Rise into the open air
And fade forever with all
The uncaptured moments
In time
Un able to repeat the same exact perfection.
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 2:54 AM UTC
(Fear)
At different times and places,
all kinds of fear enfold me.
...when they wear me out,
i claim the amazing night sky
with my dilated eyes,
i imagine gobbling a few
stars, like the way i munch
popcorn, peanuts and M&Ms
when i'm scared or worried...
sounds silly, but it's just me, taking
things lightly...enjoying
peanuts, popcorn, or M&Ms,
relaxing, while trying to be safe,
not beaten....or eaten,
by life's threatening adventures
with covid 19 and hurricanes, or,
i could be swooped and snatched
by agents Scully's and Mulder's
uncaptured aliens, who may be
lurking behind me, when i'm
deep in my fears, and
i've run out of
peanuts, popcorn and M&Ms.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
:::::::::who knows?::::::::::
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
:::::::::::::::::
Sally
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
October 31, 2020
Oct 31, 2020
Oct 31, 2020 at 1:41 AM UTC
"Visitational Voids"
Your veins hold stardust and we have the beginning and ending of time within ourselves. I'm not looking for more time or untarnished love. I'd just like for a quiet to come over me as it does when we sink below a broken surface. Matter belonging to my ancestors and of my unborn children, I return to simplicity that's so pure and so dark, raining a timeless, stagnant glory. A temperatureless void in space where infinity contains answers. Where we wed to one another to exist in inevitable, unquestionable cohesiveness. Where fear isn’t scary. Where it comes uncaptured and intangible. Where what's tangible is our cosmos souls. Your human ego and mine, left behind, and the forever living that you and I do, conforms to the human theocracy about Big Bang. Our indivisible held hands expel so much passion, heat, human, lively things that we create new life. This is the quiet. Take me to space, where it's a hum of stars. We can waste away into rebirth and recycle elemental allocations of consciousness and moral sounds.
-d.r 12.16.15
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 4:49 AM UTC
You And Me
We are Moments
Uncaptured, Unattended
We are the Flight
Unrestricted, Unbounded
You and Me
We are the Souls
Free and Formless
We are the Fire
Fierce and Intense
You and Me
We are Love
All Sober and all Mad
We are the Dreams
All Petite and all Grand
You and Me
We are Anything
that we can imagine
We are the Gods
Building our own Heaven.
Jan 29, 2020
Jan 29, 2020 at 10:43 AM UTC
.
A year old storage written optimal
Expressed gratitude reflect optical
Formal extensions remained original
Developed to produce the instrumental
A record tender date functionality
Insanity holes to cleanse reality
Envious entries are a good ally
knocked actions were a rally
Handbill desire a drag is a release
Deep in my forest the pulse at ease
The centre complimented the list of big deals
You squeeze it breaks the cover ream
You flip the odds outcome you lean
A battle portrays a chance we deem
Behind names covered with uncaptured scenes
Thought birth life time is a read
It happened to be 10 minute clip
Flat and round a compulsive skip
Then it went pause, a mute visit
Pulled is the face dual denials
A manly ignorance the tune with arrivals
Good gestures initiates an approach to gold
A verified platinum boxed thinking is sold
Barcode erased its value is old
Pricetags hanging the cost is bold
Sincere request tuning crowd pullers
Fans remained stationery movers
A scratch is a deep cut laser
Petty formulas binary is a dancer
A skip stops I need a CD changer
Perfect pitch opportunities are a major
Locating is loading an unloading radar
It never alerts an approach to danger
Circle the intro the rest for later
The centre of death initiates middle first
The last line concludes the middle third
180° middle separated
A mourn and a sin liberated
Comparison fathered demos emancipated
Bow down to the theory of the pirated
Clay cemented mistaken for friendship
Heavy a rotation is a power gift
I heard a smell of a burning Tar
An owl clapping from a distance afar
The voice of slavery grants an alter
Events less compatible to time yet late was an arrival
Condolences to efforts
The event was a puking method.
Empty shadows lifts functions
The smell made me float
Exhaling the memory
Matters of the adventure
Until I remembered, I'm an Old Soul.
Aug 30, 2017
Aug 30, 2017 at 3:29 PM UTC