"unhurriedly" poems
Freeing from the shackles of the past
trickling down to a catharsis
at the slender neck of the hourglass,
the golden grains of sand
dribble down
to create my reality.
Unhurriedly they flow,
with me they flow
into the forgottenness of the past they flow,
to rise like a Phoenix
clothed in the newness
of the present
to create a new me!
Sep 19, 2018
Sep 19, 2018 at 12:46 PM UTC
It was never my intention to place you in harms way.
Enlisting your heart to trouble after we kissed on that precious day.
As time elapsed, my heart took a moment to understand.
You were portraying your earnest emotions subtly then crass.
The turmoil you must’ve felt during the time you kept to yourself…
Causing you to experience agonizing despair while delving into mournful swells…
Find it in your heart to forgive these third degree burns.
For it was never my intention to crucify your kind soul.
My love yearns to romanticize unhurriedly,
Seducing passionately while intimately feeding the soul so fluidly.
Is it too much to ask for an amorous exploration?
For what is love without a genuine vibration?
If *** is all you seek,
Be explicitly direct; don’t play games that will cause deceit.
Otherwise, in the end, ambivalent emotions will prevail.
Crafting a false sense of endearment that will soon be too much for you to bear.
I once journeyed to a crucible of love and hate.
Traveling far beyond the unfathomable depths of heartache.
Hopelessly exiled to endure the slowest of brutalizing pains;
A light was discovered, allowing the abhorrence to dissipate.
By: Michael M. De La Fuente
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 12:22 AM UTC
Stone Love : A Building Named ‘Linearity’.
Unobserved I lay my hand on your limestone wall and feel the rough surface as my fingertips touch the stone slabs and junctures of your construction…
Gently pressing my cheek against your sunlight- warmed, stony skin.
Veiled in concealment, just you and me, right here….
Being with you, so near to me…
No one else but you and me.
In this very special love affair we share together.
Your comforting presence, so mild and so compassionate….
Gazing at the elegance of your architecture with its majestic interplay of razorsharp outline patterns in a merciless contrast with the soft spindrift twilight clouds in all serenity above us….and I feel so protected….
Staring at your powerful black silhouette as it rises up into the sundown skies….
Mesmerized by the grace of golden sunray reflections stunningly glistening, dazzlingly shimmering in your numerous windowpanes as the sun sets unhurriedly, while the mauve, lavender and scarlet clouds make the perfect composition for our undetected wonderful moment….
Oh, ‘Linearity’,…
Your stone wall feels so warm when I think about the coldness of people.
Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 7:09 PM UTC
When you opened my mind
Alongside my knees
I thought I was a book of kinds
Some volume you would read
Perhaps even thoroughly
Unhurriedly
Or intimately
But ultimately
It came to seem
That referencing is all you need
Searching for a flair or look
A certain way of speaking
Honestly, in my book
It's merely vain traits you're seeking
A written list for your esteem
Or footnotes for or your story
Because surely
You know how sorely
Paper cuts
Come from paper *****
Tight and gory
Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 8:17 PM UTC
"Aren't you now tired of that green?
different from the zeitgeist once was
the ****** pulsation existed all along with me!
I can see it in the movement of yours
when I deep kiss you, not there, you are!
it's too long, our liaison, my love listen,
now it's time for a change, haven't you
seen the clouds in quick changing formations?
Yes, rest you need and a period of leisure
would do you good.You have to don a hue
to suit to to the mood, and yellow it is"
The setting sun,languidly to the leaf said aloud.
She felt the relief, she unhurriedly received
his words purple tinted.pointing the direction.
The mountain wind, when the leaf was green,
an intense lover, moved her,always.
A leaf callow and green in the wind,
passion personified, during the gale she was
the aggressive partner, demanding more,
"You are hanging here for long,on this branch,
knowing all, now time to let go, hear the music
permeating through dust and clouds and lives
transform yourself, you have danced enough
with me here, change pace, let go, begin
a journey new and find, what the cosmic hum
tells to every single cell, and what's in the end,
get ready to take newer forms from now on my love"
Wind took her by hand and she let go every thing
and naked to the soul, she jumped in to the deep below,
a valley, in ferment, flowers, fruits and leaves
in abundance, stood with bated breath,
beckoning, welcoming, cheering the fallen leaf,
the last dance it was,with the wind and sun,
in whispers the wanton wind told her" time to go,
feel light and explore, discover the secrets still left"
Earth, red and fertile was much pleased, smiled at her,
"Come down beloved, here I lie in wait, impatient,
this is your bed, not a minute late you are, here
as before in the appointed hour,you are aware
at any time you have to end up as the salt of the earth,
you'll love it here as much you did on a flowering branch,
bit by bit like the fragments of a cloud in blue sky,
you will become one with me; the fecund muddy earth,
new seeds with a vision encrypted inside will fall on you
get nourished by what your love donates and would sprout.
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 3:23 PM UTC
The lines have escaped me once again,
all buttered up and sliding under furniture
like cockroaches at dawn.
I was made with a different chip.
My heart, she dances to her own music,
a song with no words- just Gregorian chanting
and an amnesiac beat; she dances lonely.
My tongue is tied to the floor of my mouth
with fresh sinew that I stole from the belly
of the cat still steaming on the damp asphalt
beneath alien streetlights, streaming
unhurriedly past a new Mercedes,
seeming to fall in chunks down my throat...
neverlanding.
Every trip, every drip, drop, knife or needle,
only leaves me more alone when my imagination
is gone again, and the elevator panels
have ceased giggling as I tell them ***** jokes
between floors two and four.
My dreaming lover lies while I stare rudely,
washing his clothes and feeding him broth.
He wretches over and again, poisoned
by the arsenic in my kiss, the lead in my bowels.
Not this lover, nor any other, could survive
the rugged terrain where I insist to live,
where the well supplies me well
with replacement tears,
yea, even blood.
The mosquitos so strong there,
despite the heat and barren broken stones,
they lick me dry as I methodically flip the light
and lift the coffeetable and ottoman in the den,
finding the nests of my soulmates
who have eaten my lines slowly,
savoring the bitterness of cheap paper.
I refill myself at the well,
swallowing the unsuspecting larvae,
while the one I love drowns facedown as I watch.
His heart stops, and mine, she quickens her step.
She can hear the tortured tongue.
Tickled with every gulp, he's giggling.
I take a step forward, over the void.
The elevator disappears as I turn the corner
into the falling crimson sun.
Jul 11, 2012
Jul 11, 2012 at 5:40 PM UTC
Give me stairs
To attain some lofty pinnacle
For stairs are sheer simplicity
An elegant solution to reach some apogee
Incapable of failure unlike the
Mechanical complexities deriving from indolence
Presumed superior to the apparent drudgery
Of clambering upward unhurriedly and
Thus assembled ultimately to fail and frustrate my overwrought soul
While archaic stairs continue unwavering ever upwards
Give me stairs
Dec 23, 2015
Dec 23, 2015 at 1:04 AM UTC
The wind blew,
aflame, not burning;
softly, gently, caressingly;
penetrating pianissimi billowingly.
I yielded;
I'm carried along,
effortlessly, unhurriedly,
seemingly randomly.
Little things,
a glimpse here, a sparkle there,
a dash of brilliance now and then,
simple unsurprising things.
Then I looked back, and I see:
how far and how changed I've been;
Truth, simple and little, adds up recursively,
transforming compoundingly.
May 8, 2019
May 8, 2019 at 12:19 AM UTC
I want to wander over the pavements,
The dawn bridges, the morning streets,
Where gentle wind caresses my hair.
I follow my happiness. I’m pure and sweet.
We’d walk together with weeks and years,
And time would go on unhurriedly long.
And I’d live my life, so cloudless, beauty,
Without any fear of love. I’d be strong.
I wouldn’t fear of stupid minds.
I wouldn’t hold unthinking people.
I wouldn’t be shy of one funny way –
To smile at passersby with a glance a little.
To love them all without purpose,
To see the world with wide open soul,
And love you whole without edges,
And wear your worn shirt. Not care that droll.
Mar 8, 2025
Mar 8, 2025 at 3:47 PM UTC
the weatherman closes his umbrella & stands under the rain for a long time, after the taxi drives off.
earlier, he was on tv giving an update about the hurricane: the particulars on the direction, the wind's maximum speed, the storm signals - the weatherman could be reciting these from a telephone directory for all he cared. but he kept on saying the storm's name as if it was a lover scorned, yet still very much adored - like the telephone directory wasn't a book full of strangers at all; the weatherman cleared his throat several times as if it was the first name he ever recognized as being bad news. his hand shook through the tv screen when he hovered it over the satellite image of the violent winds.
what is the weatherman thinking about as he stares at his house, now? his rain boots are filling up with water & he just keeps on standing there, gathering what he can of her -
the weatherman lazily fumbles for his keys & unhurriedly enters his front door, like he is sorry to abandon the noise for an echoing quiet, like the four walls are infinitely more oppressive. & yet as droplets form into a series of familiar satellite images following him from room to room,
the weatherman will refuse to mop his unpolished floor. he will leave the water to dry & in the morning, revisit the path of her leaving by the water stains -
the most of what this weathered man can keep from the hurricane's namesake.
-j.g.
Oct 27, 2020
Oct 27, 2020 at 1:41 AM UTC
Cool cloud shrouded air, here where I find myself
surrounded by giants, legends, these mountains
I am miniscule as one grain of sand
the people here are giant, green saguaros
holey, with birds that live within
they are fit with wild reaching arms
guardians of the desert land
anchored, deeply grounded
in this whirling vortex
unhurriedly they grow
blooming yellow flowered
with petals that pale and fall
they are true friends
that I have come
to know
Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 10:47 AM UTC
Glistening coffee eyes deeply
peering through mounds of rich, bearded head
disarmingly kind, evoking trust
the look of a sorrowful past, he
graciously smiled and unhurriedly spoke
taken aback, taking me seriously
“No one has ever asked for that song
it has never been recorded
I am surprised you even know it.”
For a few seconds we looked, but said nothing
for this moment felt somehow large
maybe they could play it the next time in town
a song of his brother’s fight to stay alive
we could not have known that in
the months to follow,
“cures” would shear the head
of this Lamb too
and I would send his own words
back to him for courage:
“Pay no mind to the vultures
and the vultures will fly off again”
I wonder, if, upon hearing the news
he recalled this exchange at a bar in MN
and it gave him chills like it did to me
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 8:25 AM UTC
*You are standing there
in that five o’clock shadow
words escape me
Blame that look on your face
everything you’ve said and
those eyes, those eyes
that penetrate fiercely
I hear your steps
cross the room unhurriedly
rapture comes in your place
bare and impatient
I am motionless
wanting to devour
the space between bodies
to let tremble and crave
take over your gift and
consume your power
Blood rushes
your hands fall heavy
as the weight of your body
spoil me in your richness
and then be still for me
let me hold you
let me hold you for hours
in the strength of a gentle, but
intolerant straddle*
Mar 28, 2016
Mar 28, 2016 at 12:19 AM UTC
*A single gentle gaze flows unleashed
moving her soul
as the veil of a shadow leaves its restlessness
to bring the melodies of untouched winds
harmony crowns the blossoming fig trees
at summer’s end
eyes meet, lips touch unhurriedly
professing love’s unstirred resilience
becoming a last breath
each other’s end
drenched in the warmth of honeyed fruit
consumed in gardens newly claimed*
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 4:15 PM UTC
I once saw a deer passing by,
its eyes intriguing and delicate —
he was walking unhurriedly while the lights
behind him swerved and danced pokily.
While I gathered my hands to touch him,
he turned around and ran away.
I once saw a shadow passing by,
its being brought chills to my bones —
he was walking behind me, unhurried,
while there was no light dancing around us.
Even the winds stopped breathing;
until I remembered, he was me.
I once saw a man passing by,
his presence gave me comfort and light.
He was running away —
I asked him, “Where are you going?”
He answered, “To the future.”
I smiled and turned to him, “Let's go.”
He held my hands, and we both ran together.
I once saw a mirror echoing back my voice,
its existence drove my mind and broke
into tiny pieces — while I went bewildered and
did not know what to do, he laughed and shattered
into fragile broken pieces.
He cried out, and I ran away.
I saw the deer passing by,
its eyes gentle and noble —
he stepped and stepped,
until he was facing me.
Behind him were the lights that stopped dancing,
and the wind hustled a great bone-chilling harsh cold.
“You can remember now?”
He asked, “Yes,”
I told him and ran away
to the future. I came, and all the shadows and mirrors broke and moaned in great pain.
I remember him now.
Nov 23, 2020
Nov 23, 2020 at 3:09 PM UTC
War is necessary every
other decade or so.
In order to avoid the jails
from filling up
with murderers.
In order to keep them
killing others in holy justification.
War is necessary
every other decade or so,
more than ever.
Used to be, once
or twice a century would do.
The world is filling up with
murderers more and more,
these days. I believe it is
genetics.
Breeding of those
who win the wars
over those who die
losing them.
Most of you
don’t even know it
until that barrel points at you
and they are seeing red
in the heat of every wiring
they have been programmed
with. You don’t know what
they are doing, or what you
are doing, or what anyone
is doing, but it is quick,
so fast you barely remember,
and the blood clouds and
slinks lazily through your
callouses and simian crease
and drips unhurriedly
to the tile floor.
You are human
like the rest of us,
even him, there on
the ground in
front of you.
Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 1:48 AM UTC
The shadows of my despondency continuously dart
between the dark crevices of the forest born in my mind
with the river of thought flooding violently, tearing me apart
and drowning me unhurriedly as it sweeps me under, most ill-timed.
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 5:38 PM UTC
eventually, everything came down to this..
surviving nights in anticipation of a call that never came..
while the clock ticks reminded how the same hand that once shed blood for you, now spills ink to recreate our memories and pen down your midnight secrets..
yet, neither the scent of burning lamp-oil nor an overdose of caffeine could bring out words to delineate your magic..
even though our universe had innumerable bruises, and our world unhurriedly caved in... but believe me, our chaos brewed love was art itself..
-animesh
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 2:28 AM UTC
I hate intentions.
I hate people with plans
People with strategies
People with theories
Be merely.
Be and let be unhurriedly
No ploys
no ********
Do not try to teach
Do not try to overpower morally
or intellectually
In your head
Maybe in your mind
I am not worthy
doubt
I can live with that
Unless your actions
reflect
that you underestimate me
In that case i'll crush you with my fate.
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 8:28 PM UTC
Glistening coffee eyes deeply
peering through mounds of rich, bearded head
disarmingly kind, evoking trust
the look of a sorrowful past, he
graciously smiled and unhurriedly spoke
taken aback, taking me seriously
“No one has ever asked for that song
it has never been recorded
I am surprised you even know it.”
For a few seconds we looked, but said nothing
for this moment felt somehow large
maybe they could play it the next time in town
a song of his brother’s fight to stay alive
we could not have known that in
the months to follow,
“cures” would shear the head
of this Lamb too
and I would send his own words
back to him for courage:
“Pay no mind to the vultures
and the vultures will fly off again”
I wonder, if, upon hearing the news
he recalled this exchange at a bar in MN
and it gave him chills like it did to me
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 2:26 PM UTC
Slowly
Things like this take time
So unhurriedly
I pick up the shattered mess
With a little help
A smile here
Or a friendly nod there
Some a little too willing
Too eager to help
Trying to rush the process
To put it all back together right away
But things like this take time
So slowly
Without any rush
I began to fit them together
Like a puzzle
Not yet
But eventually
I know, I will have it once again
Whole and ready
For the next dashing fellow who comes along
But until then
Slowly
Things like this take time
Apr 23, 2012
Apr 23, 2012 at 2:54 AM UTC
Fall in love
and don't hold back.
Even if the past
is all you see in the present's eyes.
Soon enough, in the future,
the present will be the only past.
Like stars that once shone,
fade unhurriedly from the skies.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 3:29 PM UTC
The inviting face of a happy ever-after...a bubble of light fairy colours and shades.
The chasm is broken by a burning sting from a brewing *** of disbelief...”It could never happen.”
To sadly sit through reality, paging through fantasy pages and drawing the outline of each character as though they would appear before your sights, is a thieve to the present blessings.
It is a frilly beginning to the rest of nothing.
The simple gesture of a warm dashing smile creeps into the lonely heart and formulates hard to believe possibilities.
Slowly and surely the brewing *** of self-image disputes threads a thick rope of scepticism and doubt that some dreams will never come true.
The rope gets stronger each day...it hangs over dreams and unhurriedly forms a loose noose in case everything crumbles.
Yet it seems all, if not, most dreams have crumbled...yet the hope that tomorrow might bring gold keeps blood flowing, pumping life to the musty heart.
Process the “what-ifs”, birthing the idea of eternal bliss. Sadly the assured bliss isn’t tangible at the moment.
We share laughter and thoughts, a bit of this and that...playing peak-ah-boo in each other’s minds.
Yet it isn’t enough to warrant further communication. Or perhaps there shouldn’t be further communication.
The cover might be appealing but the content could very well be unexciting.
Muddled in the passing years...a change in ages each year, you endlessly look forward to your treasures.
Perhaps the eyes should remain shut and instead search with the heart, or maybe the mouth should remain quiet, allowing the soul to speak.
Well...the skies held our conversation and in the clouds it shall remain.
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 11:05 AM UTC
I have travelled and dodged the bullets
dragged the leaded knees on casted iron
covered with clay on my bear bosoms
felt your depth in my search ohh my love
and as I lay caressing your feet unhurriedly
I feast in your unknown moistured touch
tongue on tongue preaching gospels unheard
travelling on transverse unmet peregrinations
hoping to thread at the core where we adjoin
learning again how to heave against the gradient
on paralleled transgressions exploring propagations
breaking walls and decoding the remissions
delegating preliminary positions to submission
feverish ardour of anticipation and langour
I long for you sweet valentine, comeby on board
Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 4:49 PM UTC
_____
You changed with the leaves in autumn,
Unhurriedly but vividly.
My mind wandered like the mind of a child,
Free to roam without consequence.
I believed us to be perpetual, without change,
But nothing changes more than a heart in winter.
In the summer we dreamt of snow,
But when it came we prayed for the sun.
Not one to disappoint, the sun abides by our prayers, ceaselessly,
Beckoning us to the shore where the waves were like our hearts,
Uncertain and beating at an unknown tempo.
Why do we grow bored of the things we once treasured,
The boy of mystery, the girl with a history?
I wonder why we begin to loathe the things that brought us pleasure,
The nights where our breath revealed itself,
To escape the monsters inside of us,
Begging to find shelter in the lungs of another vessel?
You told me with confidence,
“We will be infinite.”
I told you with diffidence,
“I believe you.”
Jul 4, 2018
Jul 4, 2018 at 1:42 PM UTC