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"uncurled" poems
The artichoke With a tender heart Dressed up like a warrior, Standing at attention, it built A small helmet Under its scales It remained Unshakeable, By its side The crazy vegetables Uncurled Their tendrills and leaf-crowns, Throbbing bulbs, In the sub-soil The carrot With its red mustaches Was sleeping, The grapevine Hung out to dry its branches Through which the wine will rise, The cabbage Dedicated itself To trying on skirts, The oregano To perfuming the world, And the sweet Artichoke There in the garden, Dressed like a warrior, Burnished Like a proud Pomegrante. And one day Side by side In big wicker baskets Walking through the market To realize their dream The artichoke army In formation. Never was it so military Like on parade. The men In their white shirts Among the vegetables Were The Marshals Of the artichokes Lines in close order Command voices, And the bang Of a falling box. But Then Maria Comes With her basket She chooses An artichoke, She's not afraid of it. She examines it, she observes it Up against the light like it was an egg, She buys it, She mixes it up In her handbag With a pair of shoes With a cabbage head and a Bottle Of vinegar Until She enters the kitchen And submerges it in a *** Thus ends In peace This career Of the armed vegetable Which is called an artichoke, Then Scale by scale, We strip off The delicacy And eat The peaceful mush Of its green heart.
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7.2k
Ode To The Artichoke
"Oh whence do you come, my dear friend, to me, With your golden hair all fallen below your knee, And your face as white as snowdrops on the lea, And your voice as hollow as the hollow sea?" "From the other world I come back to you, My locks are uncurled with dripping drenching dew. You know the old, whilst I know the new: But tomorrow you shall know this too." "Oh not tomorrow into the dark, I pray; Oh not tomorrow, too soon to go away: Here I feel warm and well-content and gay: Give me another year, another day." "Am I so changed in a day and a night That mine own only love shrinks from me with fright, Is fain to turn away to left or right And cover up his eyes from the sight?" "Indeed I loved you, my chosen friend, I loved you for life, but life has an end; Thro' sickness I was ready to tend: But death mars all, which we cannot mend. "Indeed I loved you; I love you yet If you will stay where your bed is set, Where I have planted a violet Which the wind waves, which the dew makes wet." "Life is gone, then love too is gone, It was a reed that I leant upon: Never doubt I will leave you alone And not wake you rattling bone with bone. "I go home alone to my bed, Dug deep at the foot and deep at the head, Roofed in with a load of lead, Warm enough for the forgotten dead. "But why did your tears soak thro' the clay, And why did your sobs wake me where I lay? I was away, far enough away: Let me sleep now till the Judgment Day."
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2.1k
The Poor Ghost
I am living in the 1920s I am missing the shaking tassel dresses, the whispering red lips and the springing curls I live through the deep emptiness of an uncurled smile from a boy who has a shine in his eye A shine from a coin filled with the greed for the nothingness of wealth His gaping presence has replaced wickedly free men What remains are toying boys craving meaning Behind the shade of the thinly golden pattern Of whiskey blurred nights Of shivering embraces Barely touching in numbness I love you meaning I do not acknowledge your depth or care to know mine What meaning?
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Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 12:58 PM UTC
Modernism
Some days I feel it's better to remain alone Because I can grow more in my imagination Than I can in this world. All of reality stripped to the bone Creating my own metaphysical reformation Where my illusions become uncurled. Finally grasping at the unknown As I create the perfect salvation My cosmos becomes impearled.
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Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 5:05 AM UTC
Isolation Glorification
Rose petals thick and heavy Just ready to wrinkle Strong, firm, delicate Simple Feigning delicacy. Tighter and tighter to their middle Lips curling back Pouting open All eventually revealing the Veins! Veins Veins Veins on the roses From the underside spread upward, Uncurled, Veins. Some so proud and broad Some coy and curtseying Some wide open, greeting you. —— Some angling to the light —— Some fading their color at the tip —— Some! Some doubling inward. Two twists inside! Why? Overcrowding. Petals wide, petals too ready, petals broad And she made herself a lover —— Some older, wiser By quicker death wisdom grows The peaked face within Afraid Afraid of what is coming faster for her. Something her beauty could not slow An aging ballerina, refusing to retire her slippers —— Some wider More careless Hippies —— Some like a dance Such a vulnerable entrance   Opening up her lips, her arms, her legs, Spouting out her tiny tongue Aroused —— Some so full Hiding herself in her layers More of her. Ancient. Just a blip. Trimmed from their bush. Here to die in a vase by my bed.
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Dec 2, 2018
Dec 2, 2018 at 11:08 PM UTC
Rose Prey
I'm an island, in a lake in a big city. The water around me is deep and foggy, the hills I carry, steep but soft, even sinkier, dig your own way out. Or in, making the mill spin, caught a swimming trout. With bare hands I touched With bare hands I clutched I was told to bend not break. I want to spend more time to make this work. Inhabit my world, enjoy my fruits and trees and nature enjoy me, live me, hair, uncurled, major mistakes, set straight, be, dare to be, loved.
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May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 5:43 PM UTC
Molten
it appears as though there was a coup, in kookaburra land, this morning. much fuss, and cacophony. as the brown and blue kingfisher clan, reassembled, their royal court. the big old king, uncurled his talons, unfurled his wings, gave one last, manical chuckle.... and fell from his perch. to lie still, upon the dusty, brown earth. shocked, silence for some seconds, and then... the eucalypts erupted into, (what would appear to the outsider); cold calculating mirth. as the young jacko princes, all began the joking joust for the top place berth. in a melee of swooping, chuckling grace, a contest no less, set to test.... mettle, worth and cackle call. each young bird, takes to the wing and flies into the maddening...and how close, how loud, how startling, they can be. is made known, by those, whose years, have flown. when all, is said and done. tourney overflown, feathers are preened. then the winner is presented, with opportunity, bold.... to nest the queen. as to the rest, they take their place, in the chaotic, cackling, cacophonous, kookabuurra clan nests. to bide their time, until, the next coup, comes calling...
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Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 6:11 PM UTC
coup
I unfurled it, uncurled its edges, like the first time a boy who is the first time a man shakes, and takes, to break open, with the trepidation of martyrs the word of God. And he on ceremony says: "PASSED BY THE LEGISLATURE AND ORDERED REFERRED BY PETITION REFERENDUM MEASURE NO. 74 ...concerning marriage... ...allow same-sex couples... ...to marry..." Voter: "Approved... ...Rejected" But all the words were wrong. Like so many other scriptures, the words did not encapsulate, not yet begun to navigate or in legal language validate my quintessential being of a fascinating, adulating, activating Love.
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Oct 19, 2012
Oct 19, 2012 at 7:00 PM UTC
Referendum 74, or I'm a It-Shouldn't-Be-An-Issue Voter
He spent most of his time driving around. It was aimless really, but he figured that’s what life was, and driving was better than sitting. “Where have you been?” his parents would ask. “Nowhere.” was always his response. This angered them tremendously. But what was the proper answer? He truly was going nowhere, too apathetic to do anything but follow the same empty streets for endless hours. “Where am I supposed to go?” he countered one night. Silence fell with the weight of a train. They had no answers. “No, really,” he began to rant, “where the **** am I supposed to go? The church? The bar? The playground?” He didn’t realize he had started yelling, angrily mocking the small town, population: 2,036. “Son,” his dad chimed in, “I know there’s not much for you around here-” the boy cut him off by turning around and calmly walking towards the door, stopping the fighting as soon as it had started. It wasn’t worth it. He stepped out into the dark, the warm air was inviting. In the ignition the keys turned smoothly and the engine purred as he reversed onto the dimly lit street. His destination: nowhere, population: him. Two hours later he found himself staggering on the edge of a cliff. He recalled a random collection of winding dirt roads, but had no idea how he ended up at this particular spot, in fact he had no idea where he was. Toes curled and uncurled, indecisive about the 50 foot fall into a black, choppy lake. The moon’s reflection peered up at him, calling fall into me, I am safe. What does it matter anyway? This thought wasn’t shocking. Truthfully, it didn’t matter; there was nowhere else to go. He released the tension in all of his muscles and fell, limp, towards the reflection of the moon. There was a note, fluttering, under the windshield wipers of his car, parked only feet from the cliff. I’m going somewhere.
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Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 12:00 AM UTC
Somewhere, Population: Unknown
He spent most of his time driving around. It was aimless really, but he figured that’s what life was, and driving was better than sitting. “Where have you been?” his parents would ask. “Nowhere.” was always his response. This angered them tremendously. But what was the proper answer? He truly was going nowhere, too apathetic to do anything but follow the same empty streets for endless hours. “Where am I supposed to go?” he countered one night. Silence fell with the weight of a train. They had no answers. “No, really,” he began to rant, “where the **** am I supposed to go? The church? The bar? The playground?” He didn’t realize he had started yelling, angrily mocking the small town, population: 2,036. “Son,” his dad chimed in, “I know there’s not much for you around here-” the boy cut him off by turning around and calmly walking towards the door, stopping the fighting as soon as it had started. It wasn’t worth it. He stepped out into the dark, the warm air was inviting. In the ignition the keys turned smoothly and the engine purred as he reversed onto the dimly lit street. His destination: nowhere, population: him. Two hours later he found himself staggering on the edge of a cliff. He recalled a random collection of winding dirt roads, but had no idea how he ended up at this particular spot, in fact he had no idea where he was. Toes curled and uncurled, indecisive about the 50 foot fall into a black, choppy lake. The moon’s reflection peered up at him, calling fall into me, I am safe. What does it matter anyway? This thought wasn’t shocking. Truthfully, it didn’t matter; there was nowhere else to go. He released the tension in all of his muscles and fell, limp, towards the reflection of the moon. There was a note, fluttering, under the windshield wipers of his car, parked only feet from the cliff. I’m going somewhere.
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I guess all good things come to an end Writing poetry helps my heart to mend Poetfreak is my home and always will be Don't know what to do guess we'll wait and see It tears me up to hear the bad news It drives me deep down into the blues I have met so many good friends indeed There's always someone to confide when in need I never talked to anyone from halfway around the world Until I came here and the flowers in my heart uncurled I don't want this to be goodbye I wanna be forever friends And to walk in the light of life and love that never ends But there is still a long way to go And I will continue to let the poetry flow I know there are other places but this is home to me But I guess when it is finally over I'll have to let it be
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Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 10:18 PM UTC
Ode To My Poetry Home
Lazarus The night blew darkness into me But you, you whispered my name, Splintered apart these eyelids Let the syllables wrap themselves Around me, carried me back to you. Awaken you said, and so I did and you Let the words Come forth drip down Into my ear drums, and so I did. I came back to you, uncurled my body To the sunlight peering itself From behind you and I knelt, Knelt for your touch, knelt for your words To awaken more than just this, This limp body, give me reason for being, And so you did, you took this skin And struck life through it, Taught me to roll my tongue, to own Your language, and you pressed Your forefinger to my forehead and said I will take you home.
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Oct 8, 2011
Oct 8, 2011 at 11:03 PM UTC
Lazarus
Not a banana, my life is like the leaf. My youth uncurled straight and tall like the opening of a translucent banner. Sensual curves waving to the florescent lizard to guard a hunting place. The warm breezes ruffled my maturing skirt as I grew in fiber strength. The warm night rains weighed me down heavy with diamonds sparkeling in the sunlight. Unseasonable winds whipped me into a double fringe. In my golden year my fiber strengthening a base for the uncurling of youth.
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Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 11:08 AM UTC
Not a Banana, My Life Is Like the Leaf
I humbly pray and come to thee Again my Lord in memory Of the gift you've given me A sacrifice that set all free The love for your Father up above Is true as His Spirit like a dove Descended on you proving the love Your Father has and you know of Remembering his sacrifice as each week We meet and find that which we seek Recalling the Father's Lamb so meek A promise in reverence that we speak This is my body which I break And allow to die, for your sake Of which I ask you to partake Eat it now as a keepsake Drink this cup my blood it is For you spilt as payment 'tis For remission of sin I give you this So you may enter a state bliss Do this I ask as you recall One who gave to you his all Suffering much, for you I fall The gates of Hell I will forestall The Enemy's grasp I take away From you by the price I pay My Father's will, I won't delay And always with you I will stay His Father's will he did perform Giving his flesh and blood to form A covenant to which we conform Keeping us safe from every storm Heaven's gates he did unlock Guiding us in, his precious flock He is our refuge and our rock To which our souls we may dock He takes away the sins of the world From which, all men, were impereld And into darkness they were hurled But the tangle of sin our Lord uncurled
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Nov 16, 2012
Nov 16, 2012 at 8:35 PM UTC
Sacrament
She was every captain's secret, Five hundred fathoms deep. She haunted and charmed the waters so, And chased the dreams from your sleep. Her ghost was known to plague our nets, To dance across the ocean waves. The bloodied corpses of her children fled To the beaches where they would be safe. That night her body, titanium clad, Punctured the wall between our worlds. Her arms, a strange bewildered dance As startled, she uncurled. The gaul of those men who found her! Breaking into her home! She had run from every advance they sent But legends never die alone. So few of our men indulge in mystery. So few embrace the unknown. Most seek to banish the fear and wonder And so legends never die alone. They are prisoners chained to mortal bodies And drawn from the depths of the sea. Her eyes, I swear, had pearls of tears As I watched the Giant Squid flee.
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Apr 3, 2013
Apr 3, 2013 at 12:05 AM UTC
Legends Never Die Alone 2/30
her it the soporific very dreaming split of easy night falls so lovely brushed of balmy hair short in tender heap of girlness heat it the deftness of a wrist hangs softly loose uncurled lightly the fingers in her such steeply wonderful brain a song is me by love's lips it i the earth the night echo primly kissing and couth so a fancy is all the world to her in lovely slumber's keep such as i would like to enter and of its beauty reap a flower on who would rise all youth in me to crown and lay my middle finger in crimson parting's drown
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Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 3:13 AM UTC
Untitled
Once upon a time, there was a rose, that grew, on the moon. One morning, it was dawn break, and it was in bloom. The petals had uncurled, an aromatic scent lingered out, and for some reason, one curious little mind, woke up much too early, to find this scent, in their nose. Only to find the moon, in the sky, bright and full, and a rose scent, all around. Cocking their head, they just knew, that this didn’t make sense! It was morning, not night, and why, oh why, would the moon, smell of a bouquet, of roses, and not a handful, of stardust? This mystery, must be solved, they pondered, but how? A ladder maybe? One really, really tall? Made of twigs, and branches, tied together, hastily? No, that’s silly, it’s just the, moon. There can’t be, a rose, on there, but they smell it. Maybe if they wait, and stay up, just a little bit, too late. Do you think, the moon, might be in, a lake? Get a boat, a couple of paddles, and you’ll get a whiff of it, I promise.
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Dec 5, 2023
Dec 5, 2023 at 12:13 PM UTC
Rose Moon in Bloom
Soon you'll be sitting on top of the world, That’s what the fortune cookie said, I went to his house with my hair uncurled, Worried what he wanted was to get me in bed.
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Jan 22, 2010
Jan 22, 2010 at 2:53 PM UTC
Wrong?
As a child I held a smile on my face I knew nothing about the dangers I'd face by just being alive, trying to survive have to bust my *** to work nine to five so that when I came home I could be all alone And take a hit of what they told me was bad for me But they lied So I learned I was overshadowed by a system That could make people believe them And what a powerful tool that is On the day they came to take my brother away For an incident 1 year prior They told us they constructed the whole **** thing And as a prison bird my brother now would sing Mom paid the bail With special money saved away Which was more than 1 month of pay And they put him in jail for 3 months 5 years parole And I learned that this system Could also make you caged they'd set you up and send you away So in my adolescence I lost all hope for the world And the place they told me was free my rage and sadness uncurled like a blossoming flower It stung like a thorn but it showed me it's power Change can be possible Just use the right tools Be cool, secretly break all their rules And maybe one day I can do what I please Without them making and "example" out of me.
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Aug 30, 2010
Aug 30, 2010 at 11:34 AM UTC
Childhood to Rage to Peace
Searching blindly in the dark Feeling for your softness and the embrace of your heart Your eyes open like light giving shape to my world filling it with beauty like spring petals uncurled Murmurs of sweetness drip from your lips Pressing mine to your face lingering...as the time slips slowly into a sultry sunrise. 062415~7.18a
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Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 10:20 AM UTC
Lost without you/kiss good-morning
flowy, fancy and frolicky vibe I'm on top of the world! confidence furled full support, no hint of a gibe a certain move through your thick brain, imbibe my cocoon I've uncurled heritage whorled natural elation, no Prozac prescribed Yet, twirls come to a halt my smile fades as you drone on It's all my fault learning forgone emotional assault I'm done, you won
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Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 7:15 PM UTC
victory dance
Tangent debacles I inherit from your stream; Your face is otherworldly, inside of my dreams. Shimmering infinity of warp and woof; Tapestries uncurled by creation's hook. Recorded epiphanies and pertinent facts, Of life and death, proceeding on track. Truth and reality's mortal refrains, Embodied in man, so we'll know them again
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Jun 28, 2010
Jun 28, 2010 at 4:17 PM UTC
Imprimatur of the Infinite
Curious clusters     of uncurled tendrils traverse the trellis,     touched to feel their way.
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Dec 27, 2015
Dec 27, 2015 at 10:04 AM UTC
Dyad - 4 -
stickysummer i remember fingers in you were (golden brown too warm almost slick with shade and trees where curling youths (uncurled) pulled out smelling like the ocean when the tide has gone way out and) your grip went around my wrist to your mouth and without a thinking drank from them blood
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Dec 3, 2012
Dec 3, 2012 at 4:42 AM UTC
Untitled
He saw Her wings lay torn upon the ground Her screams muffled; cries scorching her throat As they tore at her skin Shattering the stars in her youthful eyes As she watched; dulled and empty                                                                  He knew As her hand fell flat; uncurled Her mouth, a stretched echo of her suffering Marred colours of reds and blues charring her soul and body With a single tear leaping from her ghosting eyes                                                                           He rose With the final gasp shifting dust above her cracked lips The thud of her limp body thrown against rotting carcases And the darkening sky shedding tears in anguish He cradled her to his chest; numbing and warm A finger pulled down the lids of her unsee in eyes Whispering you're safe now Zainab I've come to take you home
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Jan 13, 2018
Jan 13, 2018 at 4:23 AM UTC
In death shalt you find peace
Within the stomach of the world The country stretches its branches, uncurled Who is the horror of Napoleon Bonaparte? Who darkens and fools the heart? Often when man is shaken to the core Other worlds sneak peeks in his door And even in the junction of cattle Metaphysical and mystical truths dazzle Touched by the sea, a vision came The pearls of the earth in flames A jackdaw perches itself on pistons Radiating heat from all of its mission His mystic sense stayed tight beneath eyelids Yet lit the flame in all said and undid Like a voice in the wilderness Or even a prophet of old, who might deliver us.
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Jul 22, 2019
Jul 22, 2019 at 11:56 PM UTC
Pinnacles of the lake