"undulates" poems
As the liquor undulates down my throat,
burning a little more at each swallow
like lighting a match with wet fingers
I realize that in this moment
I am not worried about you
I am too busy sequestering my existence
with alcohol that does not remind me of you at all
the one thing that can not summon your name to my mind
one thing that makes me forget you, even if only for a little while
Fueled by liquid fire
nature’s neutrality doesn't do much
for this current wave
of lust and infatuation
I am only a girl
fragile, choleric
& craving something to fill the hole you left
And I know I will wake up in the morning
with regret, a headache, and an empty stomach
It can take 2 hours, 8 hours or a full day
to get alcohol out of your system.
but it's going to take
much more than time,
to remove you from mine.
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 6:00 PM UTC
Do you remember me?
I am fed up, strung on night
And closed in by time.
When I dine with dearest
Friends there is always a place
Set for you, there is always
A story, untold to them,
But not for strangers
Who know even without saying
What you never said to me.
My eyes are cracked dams
Above the flood plains,
My heart is dented brass,
Bent, out of gear and turns,
Mournful, dried, pocked
As rust, tarnished red,
Petrified.
If I look at the diamond moon
I am hooked.
When the flower brushes my calves
The lifting scent caresses, teases,
Rising with my memory of fire and stone.
If I travel to the balm Paris
Of the southern hemisphere
La Belle Époque is wearing your
Dress, the pampas fires and undulates
Like your hair, the Polaris star
Points at me, dreaming
Of you, dreaming,
My jewel, my,
Little moon.
Jul 13, 2012
Jul 13, 2012 at 12:02 AM UTC
Something about her
the way she sips her beer
as if it’s tea, and she’s in a kimono
peering out into a storm
as the wind rattles the ***
and snakes through the silk
she undulates, sliding her finger
over the rim, then sips
I know the real storm
broods inside her frail frame
but she says little. mostly listens
and it drives me utterly insane
she should scream or bang on walls
she should throw ashtrays into tvs
but instead, she simply nods
her glazed eyes as still as pearls
She’s like a cherry blossom descending
towards the muddy trail below
she will be trampled by hooves
of merchants and thieves
and I am the charcoal cloud, aching
as I feel her falling farther from me…
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 2:28 PM UTC
Silence.
That’s the
First thing you
Can hear. The sil
Ence is just so loud,
So real, so close, so true,
What everyone needs sometimes.
That’s my favourite part of being there,
Underwater. The world passes away, and
You can hear yourself thinking again.
You can just simply: Be. For once.
The feeling of oblivion, the pressure of
Unreleased air, the escaping
Bubbles to the top
Of the pool, ocean, lake,
The clear water with sunlight
Shining through the depths till it
Reaches you, the feeling of
Oneness with the world
Its past, its present
Its uncertain future, the
Feeling that everything will be okay
No matter how hard it seems now. The
Feeling of weightlessness as your hair undulates
Through the clear water, your body buoyant, your mind
Finally clear. The stillness that overtakes your very
Soul as you stay at the bottom, holding on with
All your might, not wanting the moment
To ever pass, knowing it has to even
As you hope you can breathe,
Impossible as it seems. The stillness
Permeating every aspect of your being, from
Your previously weighed down limbs to your dancing
Hair to your stressed mind to your frazzled soul, giving the
Much needed calm from a busy day. Pushing off the
Depths, feeling the sunlight get stronger, the sur
Face grow closer, feeling the nostalgia to your
Second home where you can see clearly,
Even with your eyes shut tight, your
Breath held. Where you are you.
Underwater.
May 17, 2012
May 17, 2012 at 9:42 PM UTC
Wind swept
Wild places the grass it puts on a veritable orchestra of movement as it undulates to the power of the breeze that passes
Mountain meadows splashed with a profusion of flowers they jiggle as if there tickled about something or other
The crest of the hill bordered with trees sloping down the hill children are running reminiscent of Jack and Jill
This utopia of nature sets aside the hurly burly the curvature of the hills still the wind hold the sun just right you it invites
Cross these pasture lands the feeding ground of many cattle and sheep the pride of the farmer who keeps
Inexorably bound by breed and creed for centuries this way of life flourishes among these native grasses
Tender shoots these roots give of their riches the sun and rain gives them a time to reign with joy all reaps
Pleasure in the walk letting fingers glide over the heads of tall grasses the silent telling of harmony filled poise
Future generations will be brought to these shadowed grounds they too will by their lives express and know contentment
Hourly they hold in sod that has known the breath of time as it has passed time and time again it enlivens breaks fourth
Sturdy and resplendent it shows all its dependability the same respect settlers knew is found the builders of this continent
Long shadows grow upon earths shoulders she knows the good and the bad but through resilience remains unconquered
The distant mountain stands eternal guard, it affects rainfall, mutes the winds force guarantying a peaceful valley
Perpetuity is taught in this land tomorrows unfold from days gone by with regularity they build and keep the way open
Stewardship the blessed hope working in harmony with all that surrounds at days end this will be the final sum and tally
The herdsman knows the time he invests it well always with broad vision does he act in this wisdom all will be victorious
Jan 1, 2012
Jan 1, 2012 at 8:45 PM UTC
Amble into the churning vortex the purple sky undulates.
The darkness devours the day; shall mankind grimace and falter?
The outcome is unambiguous, the sky is broken like an open scroll.
Three spheres cascade, black clouds shutter.
Wheels-within-wheels covered in eyes, the Ophanim descend,
surrounded by a golden altar, the wheels spin a radiant light.
Crushing bone, crumbling stone, a symbol of justice begets a reckoning from the might of the celestial throne.
Six wings the Seraphim are holy,
with two wings they cover their faces,
with two they cover their feet,
with two they begin to rise.
Four faces the Cherubim are glory,
eagle, ox, lion, and man.
Four conjoined wings covered with eyes,
guard the way to the tree of life.
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 5:44 AM UTC
My happiness comes from me ask my friends and the world around me blossoming in a spark of crimsony red moon glow on forethought walks through the shivering lenses of percept that trickle down our backs as we enlighten ourselves with all that is in between and unseen.
It is as if our aged limbs were caressed into a symphony of leverages and their shapes. We cannot be cadavers. We are arms of cheer and picture jasper, adolescent googled-eyes gathers with virile fixations on our partners as we prey on the map lines subtly employing our eyes as we dart across each dimple, pimple, freckle, and gently worn rash lines.
These are the dogs of our incessant barking. Idling for sincerity, as actors swiftly press Winter into us while our limbless diction presents our inadequacy Rd upon our ugly and I'll-tempered neighborly-things. Aliens of the afternoon, first floor agony and karmas standard for living in a reduced climate One.
Wearing down the hooves, undulates from Pepperdine mark trails with breaking breads and twigs and bones. Undulates from another world, behoofed and bemoved, curdling their sappy reselling a of drat and unkindly remarks. And we have begun to wonder when evolution will kick-in. When will the military come for them at the doors and vacate is all from our nontoxic lie-shrouded apartment complexes, condos, and cabins. Slaughter numbers of letters and integers right out in the street; loonies in the town square and the moose are crying.
Sep 17, 2016
Sep 17, 2016 at 9:52 PM UTC
My heart - delicate,
and malleable
undulates
within two poles,
seamlessly juxtaposed -
beauty and affliction
capricious container-
truth and fiction;
the sheer surfeit
of choice
reverberates with
imperious diversion,
settled invitation-
loud and shiny things.
Hard to breathe,
I'm in exile
slave to my emotions,
obsequious and servile
barren, cold and mute
existence - the brute;
tilted reminiscence,
scars of loss
contrive frames
around moments -
footprints,
interminable -
being and time.
Infinite deity,
triune polyphony
artist of sublimity
smearing shades
of loneliness,
vestiges of faith,
to retrieve
hues of meaning;
oddly convivial
prophets
of reprieve.
Orpheus lost Eurydice
palpable discordancy
suffused in time
could not resolve
without verse
decidedly sonorous,
canvas showered pain,
splashed
Jackson Pollack stain
Love - onerous,
deep beneath
the veneer,
it's mercy severe.
Fiction from the first
Eden‘s fatal gift,
lucidity cursed
altered cosmos murmur,
parlance of
disordered elegance;
effusive language,
phrasing art nouveau
tacit script;
ensconced within
the fabric;
create a Thirst
torment - visceral
and immediate.
Ardor and innocence
once quenched,
render
pathos in proportion
to the pleasure,
conveyance of beatitude
The past absorbed
into the treasure,
Inscrutable Heart -
devotion and turpitude
desire, loathing and paucity
affinity in abundance,
fear and doubt
inhabit certitude.
©2009 & 2011 W.S. Warner
Aug 31, 2011
Aug 31, 2011 at 11:19 AM UTC
My **** is in anonymous
kisses of some unknown shore
where the tide undulates to it’s own exotic rhythm
you can call it lust
when playing with fire becomes a necessity
working in the fields towards a better crop
in the age of reckless apathy everybody knows how to smile
having fun because it’s all that is left to do
I am caught in a vice grip
so roll up another because this room is starting to seem real
the sky is either orange or purple or something else
and my cup is far from full
you have to know yourself otherwise
when high tide rolls through you will lose yourself
to pretty cheerleaders and too many consequences
that you let slide
she isn’t very good with directions
which explains how she found herself here
laughing and saying pretty things
as the last light bulb burns out
leaving me in another self-inflicted dark room
whispering my secrets to the moon
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 9:18 AM UTC
A sallowest silence drips,
drop by drop,
into open muddy palms
The ripple in the gathering cup
of hand, undulates within soul
like poignant ocean waves
eat away at the sands of time ,
just below where
a lighthouse beacon beckons
shining from someplace I can’t find
A hidden pathway
lies untrodden
beneath a thousand
dew drop clad ferns ,
fronds bestrewn with autumn’s
befallen sleight of hand
swaddled in her fading
manifest guise
Where wild mushrooms
rise blindly from
resplendent darkness
beneath silken earthen moss ,
to teach the parables ,
how fleeting a moment passes
The moment enwrapped
in nature's solicitude ,
the only shelter
mother nature's own refugees
whom dwell in an ever fugitive
sense of belonging
Fallen Lichen scattered
like wild feathers ,
traces from a higher ground ;
sown bread crumbs
of the heavens ,
abandoned like slowly falling
snowflakes upon a labyrinth
coursing beyond
emerald dank bejewel
Leading me willingly onward
beyond belated familiarity ,
exiled void of affinity
a Trumpeter swan
in search of wapatos
The stone cold silent languor
rises up through
thickly grasping moss
Wind stirs the ennui
with a breath of kindness ,
chilling a body in a soul
as cold as lonely stone ,
sheathed beneath
its hard yet fragile disguise
A twisted pathway
leading somewhere
I yearn to follow ;
somewhere unknown
beckoning from
deeply hidden hope
and its urgent calling
Somehow the uncertainty
of the path I am drawn
makes me feel
a little less removed
Assured by the gentle touch
deeply rooted ancient earthen spirits ,
beyond doubt , I’m never alone
deep beyond wooded margin
Cocooned in creation’s sanctuary
mother nature’s own refugee ...
wild is the wind
Nov 23, 2016
Nov 23, 2016 at 10:53 AM UTC
Oh there is a ball in my stomach
a tight knot of anxious confusion.
It circulates and undulates
dilates and twists
throbs
grows...
absorbing my life's energy.
"Let it free and watch it"
It emerges from my stomach...
the twisting blue-black mass
convoluting, churning
in the space in front
…and in a moment it dissolves…
My mind is clear
the rain falls gently outside
almost like snow...
Moving with the gentle breeze...
What power in coming into awareness,
Into relationship with
those things which pain me.
Feb 17, 2023
Feb 17, 2023 at 7:15 AM UTC
His fingers reach for the glass pipe and all you can think about
are his eyes
and how they’re the color of every city you’ve never lived in.
The smoke undulates from his lips
like the most honeyed death sentence
into the chasm that surrounds the two of you, and the words
“he’ll destroy me”
are ringing in your ears.
He’s a paradoxical boy,
with his shooting star hands and his nebulous mind,
that carelessly leaves his magnetism lying around
for you to trip over.
Perhaps that’s how he gets girls on their knees.
You have fallen for a boy whose words fall from his lips
like dark matter, but he is
trapped inside the black hole of his own mind.
He cannot fold himself around your galaxy
because he cannot escape his own.
He’s lost there.
The sadness in his eyes
is a mirror
and as you stare at yourself you realize
this is the first and last time you’ll love your own reflection.
Now, you will only meet up in the
liminal spaces between this life and the next.
He will come to you in daydreams,
this is the only place where you can learn to love each other.
When you are in the shadowy spot
between sleep and wake,
refrain from memorizing the outline of his lips when he smirks.
The sunlight will take it away
as quickly as it gave it.
Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 10:51 PM UTC
Szene am Bach (Scene at the brook)
Reflections in the water-
gold undulates into the blue;
windows into other eyes
seeing anew.
Hearing with the heart,
ink stained fingers
scratch across the page.
Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 10:05 PM UTC
Something about her
the way she sips her beer
as if it’s tea, and she’s in a kimono
peering out into a storm
as the wind rattles the ***
and snakes through the silk
she undulates, sliding her finger
over the rim, then sips
I know the real storm
broods inside her frail frame
but she says little. mostly listens
and it drives me utterly insane
she should scream or bang on walls
she should throw ashtrays into tvs
but instead, she simply nods
her glazed eyes as still as pearls
She’s like a cherry blossom descending
towards the muddy trail below
she will be trampled by hooves
of merchants and thieves
and I am the charcoal cloud, aching
as I feel her falling farther from me…
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 4:58 AM UTC
tangerine cider tickles my tongue
ultraviolet undulates on the blacktop,
a summer wave of a mistaken mirage
falsified, yet ever-so-present
i could've sworn it was tangible
the taste of your lips i've forgotten
some of the memories have dissipated
brown hair trickles along my earlobes
chocolate caresses my cheek
eyes stay peeled on me
i changed
my skin has sunken with calories
and my lips have cracked unwillingly
i watch tires swerving by
and ponder the progress i've made
yet i can't seem to wonder
if i've forgotten a piece of me
as i searched for what i'd lost,
for what you had stolen,
to no avail
how can i forgive someone
i can't even fathom to respect
empathy is a blessing to others
but a curse residing within
unforeseen laughter tickles my tongue
ultraviolet undulates against your desktop,
a newcomer waves to your own entourage
falsified, yet ever-so-present
Jul 7, 2023
Jul 7, 2023 at 6:08 PM UTC
As the water table rises you seep upward
a chilly ghost levitating
fluid limbs spread as the sun heats your body
water pools in finger lakes.
Etching ripples in their wake
water-striders wander the four directions of your surface
grass-kelp undulates, diving beetles plumb
in the hollows of your headwaters.
Lotus roots take hold and deepen
you rise slowly on north-facing feet
white petals burst through your visage
and a broad smile cracks your mud-encrusted face.
Ghost of earth future, risen.
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 11:18 AM UTC
Melody plays in my mind,
my imagination undulates
inside these red walls,
the chimes clink,
strong vibrations permeate
my skin and bones,
a sitar shakes my very soul.
I see your precious lips,
hear ancient chants,
feel your luscious skin
& listen to your heart beat
the deepest percussion,
such a soothing sound.
And if once,
if just once,
I could kiss your spirit,
we could fly forever
between the magic,
the twinkling of
the infinite stars,
swimming
in the Heavens
above us.
Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 7:19 AM UTC
down the hallway
where destiny led
inside a room
where inhibitions shed
white miracles bled
I’ll lay my head
to dream beneath
a non de plume
I’m not me, are you?
riotous beauty will bloom
where it is aptly
coveted
smell the sweet perfume
told our sweet, sensual song
will long be often
coveted,
down the hallway
where destiny led
But this is reality.
What I am thinking, believing,
She, I,
cannot speak to you...it is that
On the edge of Saturn,
watching 3 moons
sink and burn
drowning sorrows
in a intergalactic tavern.
I just can't find
the energy to believe,
so I keep asking,
who is inside my body?
not you, not him,
who is me inside of me?
On the edge of me,
is not the endless roses or
the fact they seem
to placate themselves in repose.
It is not even the field
of riotous color
that undulates endlessly,
what I was led
to believe.
Not even the heady scent
that has slowed my feet,
can compete
with what I believed,
and what now,
no longer do...
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 11:53 PM UTC
Do you remember me?
I am fed up, strung on night
And closed in by time.
When I dine with dearest
Friends there is always a place
Set for you, there is always
A story, untold to them,
But not for strangers
Who know even without saying
What you never said to me.
My eyes are cracked dams
Above the flood plains,
My heart is dented brass,
Bent, out of gear and turns,
Mournful, dried, pocked
As rust, tarnished red,
Petrified.
If I look at the diamond moon
I am hooked.
When the flower brushes my calves
The lifting scent caresses, teases,
Rising with my memory of fire and stone.
If I travel to the balm Paris
Of the southern hemisphere
La Belle Époque is wearing your
Dress, the pampas fires and undulates
Like your hair, the Polaris star
Points at me, dreaming
Of you, dreaming,
My jewel, my,
Little moon.
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 2:39 PM UTC
The web undulates beneath him,
shimmering in the morning sun as the clouds recede.
A feat of engineering unmatched, no number of hands
can compete with eight hairy legs.
Stronger than steel, as flexible as a feather
Beautiful and meticulous despite being a deception intended for death.
The ultimate disparity.
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 4:54 PM UTC
Do you remember me?
I am fed up, strung on night
And closed in by time.
When I dine with dearest
Friends there is always a place
Set for you, there is always
A story, untold to them,
But not for strangers
Who know even without saying
What you never said to me.
My eyes are cracked dams
Above the flood plains,
My heart is dented brass,
Bent, out of gear and turns,
Mournful, dried, pocked
As rust, tarnished red,
Petrified.
If I look at the diamond moon
I am hooked.
When the flower brushes my calves
The lifting scent caresses, teases,
Rising with my memory of fire and stone.
If I travel to the balm Paris
Of the southern hemisphere
La Belle Époque is wearing your
Dress, the pampas fires and undulates
Like your hair, the Polaris star
Points at me, dreaming
Of you, dreaming,
My jewel, my,
Little moon.
Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 2:13 PM UTC
There are tremors within,
and my skin undulates
with the effort of containing
the ripples as they gain strength.
The constant fervor
of my mind is disguised
by my placid façade.
Look closely though,
concentrate enough to see
a glimmer of the disturbance,
and you'll glimpse the clamor
hiding close under the surface.
Quick! Did you see that twitch?
An explosion is imminent,
take cover.
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 9:14 PM UTC
Love: to be said but unspoken
A deep guttural influence over your mind’s endless power
A gift to be hermetically sealed, yet leaking lust whenever possible
A moment where fusion of energy is felt in broad daylight with no scientific explanation
A muddy sense of belonging and purpose that undulates entirely
Go on, give in.
It’s the call to the question that is answered with “this is why you’re made”
Your smile creates a double with lips and lids, light and laughter
Can I ask you how this encompasses atheism?
You’re gorgeous and talented and our opposite beings just want the one thing that’s unexplainable . . .
Once again, how doest that coincide with atheism? Question that.
But really, I can feel your truth and complete love
I just worry because you need to love yourself and believe
You can’t give it all to me.
May 10, 2010
May 10, 2010 at 8:31 PM UTC
Surely,
There must be inumerous inadvertant staring contests happening
When haplessly gazing across the edge of the world
When, too tired to remember that the ocean has many shores,
One looks out seeking lighthouses
Made of curls braided into the backs of their head
As to not run aground,
Drown;
In the bottled reminders we endlessly toss at our own backs;
Why did you think the water gleams, undulates and winks
With so much meaning?
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 11:22 AM UTC
Do you remember me?
I am fed up, strung on night
And closed in by time.
When I dine with dearest
Friends there is always a place
Set for you, there is always
A story, untold to them,
But not for strangers
Who know even without saying
What you never said to me.
My eyes are cracked dams
Above the flood plains,
My heart is dented brass,
Bent, out of gear and turns,
Mournful, dried, pocked
As rust, tarnished red,
Petrified.
If I look at the diamond moon
I am hooked.
When the flower brushes my calves
The lifting scent caresses, teases,
Rising with my memory of fire and stone.
If I travel to the balm Paris
Of the southern hemisphere
La Belle Époque is wearing your
Dress, the pampas fires and undulates
Like your hair, the Polaris star
Points at me, dreaming
Of you, dreaming,
My jewel, my,
Little moon.
Feb 22, 2013
Feb 22, 2013 at 1:32 PM UTC