"unstill" poems
Oh, My Muse,
Staring at me through distant stars
Through laughter and tears
Through the hallways of my mind.
Oh, how you pierce me
A cactus in my desert,
How you sting me
A jellyfish in my unstill waters.
How you tickle me
As my pen tickles the sky,
Endless inspirations
Stanzas forever flowing free.
How you grab me
From away and afar
Confuse me
With the thunderstorms in your eyes.
If only it tickled forever
Didn’t hurt as you bring me to my knees,
If only I could fly to you like a bird
Land safely in your arms.
But no, it is not to be so!
You are words on my page, Sweet fire,
Caressing the armpits of my unwritten phrases,
The constant party going on inside me.
I must go to the party
Even when I am frozen, Afraid,
Exhausted from endless pokes of inspiration
Tickles that I wish would never stop.
I must fall free my sweet Muse,
Into the abyss of whispering pages
Where my darkness meets the light
Where you wait for me always.
Copyright 2018 Stacey Handler
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 1:57 AM UTC
The absence of stillness is time. Time and stillness cannot coexist. Time is never your present for as you spell your very moment, it has already become your past. Make haste or sleep, but do not waste the energy of "unstill", you owe it to Nature.
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 2:31 PM UTC
I write this story of grief
On a piece of paper
Or a plastic cup
Whether be it filled with water
Have it crumpled up or torn apart
As long as I have a pen or pencil
A hand and mind to pour it out
I speak the words I'm spoken
And I write the things we were all about
Expressing in past tense
I try to recollect yet forget the past
Of broken edges that kept me safe and sound
From tempting love and growing lust
A hand that won't keep still
Partnered with a body with an aching itch
I trust my mind but it's my heart that speaks
A hand kept still, a hand craving for bliss
I am stuck at a loss for words
A pen in hand, the impatient ink
Teeth gritting for a paragraph of her
Pages kept blank, with a hand unstill
A pen or a pencil, longing for touch
A plastic cup, half empty, half gone
Mouth thirsty, craving for lust
n.j.
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 11:31 AM UTC
unstill life with a peach pit.
//
i paint you in every colour before you leave my field of vision.
i spit out words i don’t understand like i love you, i need you.
you dance with me in my bedroom, spin me around until i’m blue
in the face, you say you love my glow in the dark, i say but you
shine brighter.
maybe we could sip on the cyanide in our peach pit smoothies
while i carefully contemplate? i don’t quite understand this but i dream
anyway because there’s nothing better than our flashlights.
i’ll make you a thousand mixtapes and we can dance to modern
day synth pop and we’ll feel like we’re in the eighties. i’m a nineties
baby i just made it there. syncopated words, and clever cacophony
spill out of my mouth, you’ve got my lip gloss on the corner of yours.
stay careful, i don’t know what any of this will mean in two weeks.
but, we’ll go out singing,
*baby, we’re golden,
baby, i’m holding
on to you.
baby we’re golden,
baby i’m holding
on.
baby, we’re golden
baby, we are,
we are,
we are...*
Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 9:45 PM UTC
What crowded heart
So cold like the pit
red in loss and hard with memory
Away she said
and lightly tread
O'er summers better glory
Voices rich for lust
Remember paradise unstill
And bathe in times winter
Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 7:21 PM UTC
Pulling me back
in the arms of Mr. November
Time moves unfamiliar
But still I am
Longing for the known
thinking of fall cold
every corner there I was
unfamiliar
The melody moves unfamiliar
strange comfort in delight
of nostalgic rediscovery
But unstill I am
Unrelenting release
naive meanderings
Through the fall
into spring
but still I am
May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 1:20 PM UTC
The solicitous Self,
with and in each exchange
of conversation's
volley of commiserating
commissary verbages
words of curbs and gutters,
owns not its guilt
knows not good will
nor for those whom shatter
in our drowning hours, unstill...
The Self is begging
for your idolatry's bastions,
wants you to find it beautiful
and superior
above any other
attention and ingestion
gorging and hoarding
the tid-bit compliments
the cloud nine glances
succulent smiles / flirtatious lick of lips
the audience pumping up
its hot air ego-balloon
to beach ball widths
a deadly kind of perdition
for you, character fool
careless and distracted
blase' as a toad on a stoop...
It is a ****
the amorous Self is
harmless, the beginning seeds
and whimsy / at flowering
in your hands:
fluff and puff intimations
child-like glee / pleasing / blowing
nonpluss dandelions
nonthreatening
in ruminations
N' stuff...
but like any ****
when it spreads and takes hold
the real estate of your time and soul
it chokes and feeds
off your serene prosperity
of peace of mind
of identity
a thief of your ideas
makes your dreams its own
It suffocates all others
behaves with dismissive airs
like you it becomes
you, who has watered
this pest and catered to its musings
like a sudden sunrise it appears
out of the blue appealing
a dandelion, quaint & demure
yet alluring
The ********** that is the selfish
solicitous thorn
knows its own nature
far too well
hides its hideous
kink so none can warn
it is a war
with Self
the attention *****
Self being compelled
as all else
a parasite to its growth
a virus and its host
what she now only has to give
in return:
assuage
her malingered spell
she breeds in you
a ghost of once you were
wastrel grime
wasted time
an empty shell
Abhorred.
Careful what the Self
is selling
the solicitudes
of obsessions
Possession
Suffocation
not much else...
No succor for the Self.
Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 11:49 AM UTC
The chaotic waverings of the unstill surface leave the depths of the seas undisturbed...
Jun 16, 2017
Jun 16, 2017 at 1:06 AM UTC
We sat at the end of the stairway
Outside your house past your garden’s gate
Our lips moved whilst exchanging words
Our gaze was vast beyond what ears are heard
My outlines remained shivering and unstill
We talked and talked draining our hearts once filled
Our lips ran dry, craving for water’s bliss
You then took my empty heart and leaned in for a kiss
You parted, leaving me immensely wanting for more
I held your hand and it pricked me like a thousand thorns
Blood started pumping through and past my veins
Into your chest, into your heart infected with pain
I didn’t let go to you holding on
Your lips stopped moving, your words drifted, it was done
I touched you once more, pressing mouth against mouth
Severing heart, this hurt more than our lips filling in the drought
You pulled closer; it struck harder, slashing past before my skin
I took hold of you, trying to stay stronger, mouth deeper than sin
Hand in hand, it was sinking in; I’m falling down the rabbit hole again
The stairway was gone, the gate, the roses, you were still there but I’ve lost a friend
The garden gnome, he held the clock, time was slowly ticking away
Bodies side by side, our hearts then stopped, it had almost seemed like it’s been days
She and I, once innocent, now bare, with no more dignity to hide
She whispered “come on Alice, don’t give up, we’re got our hearts to find”
Scourged skin, torn dresses, unpredictably she smiled
She said “I haven’t been this scared in a long time; it’s been quite a while”
Our footsteps grew distant yet the clock continued to tick
She lifted two roses obliviously, her eyes followed to the one I picked
She held it close to her lips, sliding the stem past before her skin
Blood started streaming down, there’s more than there has ever been
Wounds started to unstitch, scars started reopening
And with the greyest of eyes and the rose between her mouth, it slowly started unfurling
She gave me the slightest smirk and approached me with an embrace
I felt her warm touch draining inside me, the rose pricking me through
And the was the last time, I ever saw her face
n.j.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 11:40 PM UTC
The heart of mine
Sings a tune
That does not need
To rhyme with moon.
The heart of mine
Does not need
Language at all,
To make its point a heed.
It says what it wants,
It does as it wills,
And I let it play
Like a child, unstill.
I let it rupture
Its voluptuous rant
About how it’s ignored
Or let it signal its chant.
I let it pout
I let it shout,
And do I ever
Let it all out.
I listen to its sage advice,
And let it counsel,
Its rhythm suffice.
It has a way
Of saying the right things
By saying nothing,
But still it sings.
My heart does a dance
Whether I want it or not,
But I have lived in a cage,
Why should my heart be fought?
And pummeled down
Like all of the rest,
To be less than free,
To be less than best?
I let it live its life,
I let it chant its tune,
And boy does it ever
Rhyme poems with “moon.”
Aug 25, 2018
Aug 25, 2018 at 3:35 PM UTC
The river sings
The willows wail
Princesses in castle towers
Growing out their hair
Watching the landscape
Wind-wild and bare
No one coming
Over the bridge
No dancing shoes
That pinch and sting -
Only a comfortable
Weaving of tales
An angry pounding
Of summer hails
And fires burning
Burning through the night -
Are we too old to stop now
Too cold to put up a fight?
May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 7:43 PM UTC
i have said you
have said i and
through your
lips have walked
my words has
parted human
breath and from
it shook a whole
sea has threaded
by moonlight
never stilled the
words that are you
that i have spoken
and you have said
restless coils of ******
silver thick waves has
heaved in silence and
gasping ****** unstill
forever the word i have
spoken and that have
parted a whole sea from
****** coils of human breath
Sep 12, 2012
Sep 12, 2012 at 3:36 AM UTC
Laying still
Feeling cozy
Under bunched
Up blankets
Mind unstill
Thoughts waltzing
Wandering to
And fro
Drifting away
Thoughts return
Giving reminders
And to-dos
Slipping again
Calmness within
Warmness without
Breathing deeply
So relaxed
So comfortable
With him
Beside me
Feeling peaceful
He and
Blankets keep
Me safe
There's love
and warmth
To help
Me sleep
Peacefully, deeply
This slumber
Is like
Nothing else
Then suddenly
It's morning
I hate
Getting up
Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 10:24 PM UTC
---
sometimes you view
with your one eye
something
miniscule
in size
it could be a
flitting bat
it could be a
dusty hat
it could be a
fire's light
it could be
the dead of night
you can feel there's
something wrong
but you look
and it is gone
---
sometimes you hear a
faroff sound
you don't try
to look around
it could be a
lonesome train
it could be a
thing in pain
it could be a
funny fuzz
it could be a
static buzz
the windblown pages
of a book
but you don't think
and you don't look
---
something came
and touched your hair
it could be
your last nightmare
it could be
an errant fly
it could be
a fairy sigh
it could be
a sulphur wind
but you don't feel it again
---
sometimes you taste
something that's ill
it lies within
a tounge unstill
it is bitter
it is sick
like gone bad almonds
arsenic
you ***** my face up
then you pout
it's not your fate to
spit it out
---
something is
tickling at your nose
it could be
a sewer flow
it could be acid
in the rain
it could be
something
in your drain
oooo you believe you smell that smell
it's coming from the
pit of hell
soulsurvivor aka
Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc
Catherine Jarvis
(c) 5/25/2015
May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 10:22 AM UTC
you are shattered, so it goes
and the imperceptible adhesive from the
fallen framed photograph you
somethinged her—she was not in it—
she is on your hands
not in them
so it goes, the candle on the sill unlit
unstill
until
wax burns
fire goes
you are
never start
something
will end
never light a fire
never have a friend—
time makes a stopwatch of you
a spasm
a podium of her, all your something
stuck to your fingers
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 2:57 PM UTC
Like a road around a corner
never disappearing Michigan old
glory eugenics for German laws
Thirties’ ezratics racialist
limpieza de sangre, Velazquez
awaiting ennoblement, Ezra hound
reads Italian translation, 1940
Mia Battaglia kleine mein
stumpf, o sweet Alabama
his small light
utterly
erased, obliterated, negated
Cruel hygiene unmixed
hieratic Idaho’s
small pebbles, turquoise
tesserae, Roman, Babylonian,
and them Assyrian archers
Ever unstill Ixion ever turning
Re: Canto CXIII
2017.11.12.
Jan 20, 2018
Jan 20, 2018 at 10:09 PM UTC
Energies released from my inner energies
Fill the once still and energyless atmosphere around me.
I relax and find the cause of the unstill waves.
Comforting them back to their happy and nutral sleep
I enjoy the other sweet energies I bring forth from within.
Chakras, auras ..they show us color, emotion,and empowerment in soul.
The fuels in which we use to bring forth the right balance is essential.
Using my scale of wisdom, the auras are identified and the Chakras then balanced.
Most find the view of such rituals "poppycock" or "scienceless" in proving they are factual existances in events.
However, me knowing and seeing them at work....I see the facts.
We all have energies.
Fear is always the blinding energy as when it comes to identify the sources of our posotive and negative energies or "Vibes."
I have been unblinded by fear for many years.
Seeing my colors of red,blue,white,green,and yellow are fun and necessary parts of my being.
As Human "Animals" we all label them as "primitave instincts," "blind use of energetic porposes," and
other such "unqiue visions into the realm of the human psuchic."
I see natural tides that this "moon" must pull into balance.
As I drift and enjoy the journey of astral plaines and being the "Cowboy" who lassles these "doggies" back to their "natural penned fences"
I take pride in the adventure of "reeling them back in."
Jul 29, 2016
Jul 29, 2016 at 4:25 AM UTC
The pitter and the patter,
The pounding on your door.
The slight leak in the roof
That drips on the floor.
The sweet smell of earth
With an afternoon chill.
The world is unquite,
And nature unstill.
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 5:29 PM UTC
Its like trying to hold water
fistfuls of water, grabbing and groping
trying to make it stay but it won't, it can't.
Too soon it's gone, down the drain and every molecule is forgotten in that moment.
We only have a splash, a short shower, a puddle and it's here for a second as we swirl it around, trying to form it into something we'd like, knowing all along it's flowing and won't hold any shape for long, least not in this form.
This form.
This form.
Then it's gone again. So splash in mine, it won't be long now.
Jun 28, 2018
Jun 28, 2018 at 4:36 PM UTC
that resplendent note;
sanctifying my heart;
little droplets of salted tears;
in reply to a deep feeling;
emerge from unstill eyes;
what do they search for;
the same treasures on the global map;
the same pleasures;
love that transcends;
music that overtakes;
warmth that shelters;
every time I hear your voice;
my love, my soul;
when I hear your voice;
within the abyss of my mind;
from a long-ago memory;
I push your voice forth;
and it grabs me;
I am in its possession;
I am in your possession;
even from a long-ago memory;
I am still owned;
by the sultry whisper;
that floats in the night sky;
the ambrosia of your breath;
as it gives me love's immortality;
the sensation of your lips;
as they caress every letter of every word;
the vibration of each wave of sound;
as it moves from science;
then to art;
then to an unimaginable beauty;
how ironic, dear heart;
that the only words I can use;
to describe this divine linguistic adventure;
must come from your own lips;
as it sanctifies my heart;
with that resplendent note.
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 4:56 PM UTC
Just beyond the hillside windmills unstill
Where the horizon meets the sky
and eyes are lost in clouded light
Brighter than all cares and graduation caps combined
It is where the goodness of present day
And the tides of gifted times glide past
Beneath the feet of the lover stands
A happily shifting sand which has eroded away
And the only thing left there between us to be
Is the sea
In all of its wonderous and most secretive
Glory to be shared as one
(And all this my dear, is just beyond)
Jun 13, 2021
Jun 13, 2021 at 5:38 PM UTC
waiting for nostalgia
to download
these portals
to the same
world
are lovers
born
feet-first
first
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 4:39 PM UTC
the smell of cheap cologne and regret lingers
as my skin burns under the traces left by your fingers
he tasted like mint from the ghost of the gum he had
he tasted like a mistake, a good answer that had gone bad
we did nothing new but I feel bothered, restless, unstill
but what do I do I cant control your will
my mind made a filter, a mask for you to wear
so the potentially bad choice could be seen nowhere
but in your stead stood a mistake, a regret, then no one
cause the one to blame here is I so let me be rendered undone
and then i woke up
and you were there
and i wanted to touch you
but i wasn't here
because my mind yelled at me for taking advantage of myself
i was the who pushed him away, the one who left him in a shelf
but i'm the one who claws at him, who wants to pull him closer against my skin
in the end we're both satisfied but in the end we both didn't win.
May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018 at 12:50 AM UTC