"upsurge" poems
Sitting in a restaurant
Over a cup of coffee
And silently having our dinner
With hardly anything exciting
Either to brag or blather
My eyes got hooked
On the occupants of the table, next
Two kids, seated on small chairs
A boy and a girl, obviously a pair of twins
Adorably cute, their father, so young
Who having placed the order
Were in wait for their turn
Carrying a tray, as the waiter arrived
With something of the plainest kind,
Small cartons of French fries,
Bottles of sauce and plain ice cream
The little faces gleamed in excitement
Their beaded eyes riveted,
And their heads bobbed in happy approval
As their Dad opened the carton
And placed before them
French fries sprinkled with some sauce
The children, sprang to their feet
With an upsurge of delight,
Jumping up and down,
Clapping their hands and shouting!
At a small distance, sat we
‘Solemnly’ consuming our meal
With nothing to titillate our palette
Or excite our toned nerves
I thought;
How, in course of time,
Everything becomes a routine ritual
And what stark difference
Between our subdued composure
And the overwhelming excitement of kids!
They haven’t learned yet
That such open expression of emotions,
Is not in keeping with accepted norms
To what peaks of joy, they get catapulted
With mere trifles and silly baubles
While we remain ever at the bottom
Unable to be lifted up
Is this what we call aging?
Or is it
The death of spring
The summer’s dirge
Autumn’s mellowing
Or the chill wave of winter’s blast??
Jan 11, 2017
Jan 11, 2017 at 6:39 AM UTC
#***Blackwater rise up from artesian fountains
Upsurge from the provenance of earthen soul
Mingle unto a river of willow’s bend and sway
Rooted in boulders***
*scattered within
milestones
and*
***riverbed Cornerstones
Gray
As though empowering sown seeds mightily strewn
With intent a higher law's freshet flows
For to stream from silence in a satiating tongue
Rolling currents thickly bestow
A river of simple truth lay bare
A stream of random kindness betides,
Rivulets of unconditional love abounding
Rootstock birthplace coursing passage from whence
Unbounded rivers' silent reverie manifests
Rippling cadence immersing pulsing whispers
Unbounded rivers rushing deep and wide
Blossoming undercurrents gushing,
resounding,
rhythmic ebb and flow
Verve undulating wholly alive
Genesis of soul marrow's enlightened shine ―
Wellsprings arise from bedrock
ancient mother earth
A surmounting light leavens abidingly
From imploring water's flowing river song
To illuminate the beckoning pathway's bearings
divergent from thither and yon
Through which to portage
A way to carry back home in psalm***
h.a. rivers ... November 4th, 2017
Nov 9, 2017
Nov 9, 2017 at 7:59 PM UTC
Sinuous, serpent, coiled in the hole-
of the fig tree of my existence,
your power unlimited, realizes me this:
**life, at its best is a creative upsurge unbelievable,
when released after long and patient meditation, the energy
that crosses six centers, and reach the lotus, at the crown!**
Oct 14, 2012
Oct 14, 2012 at 2:07 PM UTC
Be there at the clock tower sharp at 6 in the evening
Pleaded her note adding she needed to tell something
6oclock in the evening how long seemed that hour
With a quarter still to go I was under the clock tower.
In me what she had seen to me what she would say
What would propose the girl that lived a block away
I had seen her a few times she didn’t look that impressive
They had been there a few months and were about to leave.
Was she in love with me the girl with a drab freckled face
Our paths crossed a few times though me she didn’t address
Maybe I didn’t know it she fell for me on the first sight
The thought gave me a shiver in that uncanny evening twilight.
Seconds moved in year’s speed I stood in the yellow streetlight
An emotion started to stir in me inside a light glowed bright
A cloud had gathered above me the air smelled of a shower
10 minutes had passed by then with me under the clock tower.
Why I felt upsurge of something as I reread that girlish scrawl
Beckoning to share a secret with me bearing an urgent call
Was it something to do with me or she had something else in mind
My heart beat rapid in feverish strokes I had only 5 minutes to find.
3 minutes to 6 opened up the clouds came down a heavy downpour
She must come now to tell me what she mustn’t hold it anymore
The clock chimed 6 men ran for shades only me was under clock tower
She didn’t turn up it was her call my heart lay bleeding in the shower.
Next day they moved out to someplace else where I didn’t ever know
I caught a bad cold and but for that note I got nothing more to show
Even now in some evening when it so happens I get stuck in a shower
I wonder what secret she had for me for sharing under the clock tower.
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 8:16 AM UTC
There isn't a feeling more intense than lust,
Nothing more engulfing, more true.
Makes the hardest obstacle look like mere dust,
No space for mind, no sign, no clue.
What can explain the urge?
That moment all energies converge,
Illusion or divine upsurge?
None can articulate which leads to this splurge.
Yet in all my experience I have been a seer,
Studied the feeling, up-close and near.
The blinding force that goes beyond fear,
Makes you forget life and everything dear.
There wasn't anything that made me more sure,
There couldn't be a feeling more pure.
Wondered why it was the lowest sin,
The blinding desire for another's skin.
It then struck me like an arrow,
Why does it have to be so narrow?
What if lust was elevated to emotion?
What if the same happened in life, or still, in devotion?
Could there be a higher way to forget yourself?
To taste the beyond and come out of your shelf.
Yes! Yes! it struck me right,
In one moment of divine insight.
Then for truth I began my lust,
A desire just as robust.
From the root, to the crown, felt a mighty ******
That cleansed a stagnant mind of its rust.
And so again I was made a child,
Full of innocence, yet so wild.
Blinded once more, but with a lust divine,
Cracked open to see the subtle and the fine.
Two centers exist through which your energies explode,
The result the same, you become fierce.
******* both,
The root, a seed for creation,
The crown, the creators seat.
May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 12:25 PM UTC
John and his insecurity
his kindness
including us all
‘isn’t he a bit like you and me?’
lurching around in the dusk
grown restless
all he needs all he seeks all he wants
is all that he writes for
is all that he sings desperately about
with crying eyes
beneath a bloated neck
and a ragged sprawl of hair
the girl the woman the ocean child with the fire off the reef
seashell eyes windy smile
holds me
how can I live without knowing that somewhere in the world John Lennon is alive?
knowledge that flooded incessant days
with magic
a relationship triggered by the simple word ‘yes’
something positive an upsurge for once in a belonely time
buried ‘neath concrete in Central Park
while I get the feeling elsewhere
a smile a dance a quietly strummed guitar a girl
a circle drawn
Mar 12, 2012
Mar 12, 2012 at 5:45 PM UTC
Bodies that move as mysterious as the night
Threshing and weaving into blankets of flight
A quilt woven meticulous with heirloom care,
Yet taken apart-- piece by piece, square by square:
After the upsurge and the spiral
And the crescent and the descent,
The smiling eyes and warm faces
Suggest this magic carpet ride
Was time truly well spent.
Jul 21, 2013
Jul 21, 2013 at 7:37 PM UTC
born was this day -
the king of the kings
the monarch of the south
the lord of the war elephants
the nightmare of the enemies
the upholder of the righteousness
the fervent patriot of the nation
established had he -
the mightiest empire of the renaissance
the kingdoms that don’t know dearth
the cities with surplus rubies and diamonds
the villages with flourishing greenery and jubilance
the sites with fascinating monuments
the territories with impenetrable borders
known was he as -
the ambidextrous sword fighter
the indomitable malla wrestler
the maven of the fine arts
the polyglot patron of the five languages
the prudent administrator and strategist
the paragon of an ideal ruler
been had he –
the hope of the people
the savior of the Hindu culture
the beacon among his contemporaries
the generous and the inclusive king
the valiant frontline military general
the esteemed scholar and poet
ended had he –
the atrocities on the peasants
the societal repression on the women
the ludicrous taxes on the residents
the brutal conquests of the invaders
the pernicious rituals in the communities
the chaos and disunity among the kingdoms
left has he -
the fear in the evil
the legacy of his deeds
the stories of his glorious reign
the prolific heritage sites to the people
the spectacular literary upsurge
the inspiration for the united India
Feb 15, 2018
Feb 15, 2018 at 1:54 AM UTC
Fortified with a lust for life
Twirling in this velvety taste of wine
Compressed in between squeezing bodies
On a fast pace through this rough road
Strange entanglements unraveling
Unbridled thoughts ceased in synchronicity
Captured in this twist of fate
Surrounded by unaligned thoughts
Moving in opposite directions
Together, our thoughts we amassed,
Lost in retrospect,
Minds occupied with past journeys
Travails we overcame,
Swimming through muddy waters
Our dreams almost blinded us
Absorbed into ever-glowing possibilities
A push, pull or spiral
Some to revealing lascivious desires
Previously dampened by propriety
Choices made and yet unmade
With unpredictable certainties
Picking up piece by piece
Dreams broken
And ideas torn in shreds
Lounging around in incalculable distance
In the aftermath of explosive criticisms
Drenched in the scent of maturity
Gold passes through fire
And we come out whole
An upsurge of determination
Aligned with our creative juice
And may the best ideas win.
Mar 1, 2019
Mar 1, 2019 at 5:33 AM UTC
remember that time when you were eight at the beach, having so much fun tripping over the waves of brine and all of the sudden you were interrupted by one huge, everlasting upsurge that swept you underneath it, leaving you gasping for air and filling your lungs with its acidic solution
and then you tried to get up but then another wave crashed on you
and another
and another
and all of a sudden your whole universe isn't even recognizable, your eyes fill with sand and you can barely grasp the world around you as it slurs into an aquatic disaster
i think that feeling is exactly what it feels like to live in this world as an adapting sentient human being
i think that once you really get hit with that one, huge obstacle, you just get hit with another,
and another ,
and another
until you're forced to question why you even feel the need to get past it in the first place
why not just sink
why keep fighting to stand up again why is it important that i revive my suffocating lungs why can't i sit until my body absorbs all the water, shriveling my skin from my fingertips to my toes
i want to lay here
harmoniously flowing through corrupted waves
no longer learning how to swim
but how to peacefully and tranquilly
drown
May 27, 2016
May 27, 2016 at 1:47 AM UTC
***stuck in a darkly whirling vortex
spiraling out of control
landed in twister's head
heady twirls of whiplash'd senses
tides grasp in the rolling upsurge
rushes in to suffocate my breath
ripples of truth flood upon the crest
heaving gushes of a rocking influx
loop'd in this turbulent sea
convolutions bring me to my knees
these polluted waters endure
takes down this helix,
conclusive in tsunami's surge
final disturbance overwhelm indecisive flux
blows frigid winds to engulf emotions
deluges of insanity's pleas silently shaken,
obliterated by an overpowering plunge
wiped out in a drench of overflowing despair***
Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 9:00 AM UTC
All I seem to do anymore is
cry
and sleep
and cry
and think.
The thinking is horrible.
Worse than any salty tear
burning the cuts you left on my cheek
from your razor blade lips.
◇
All I seem to do anymore is
pass out
and dream
and pass out
and scream.
The screaming is horrible.
Not because my vocal chords are straining to keep up with my upsurge of emotion
But because it sends a shudder through me every time the illegible shouts start to sound like your name
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 9:10 PM UTC
“Antipathy of Abandonment”
I have been desolate like the dock at dawn.
You shall never know of my torment
The ghostly convolution in my head,
I will never be as well as another,
Now more distant than ever,
Neither ship nor upsurge can I ever survive,
Again more distant than ever,
Further than ever before have I been,
She has shown no regret for the infliction,
In the melancholy that’s ****** upon me,
As the black cruor drips within my heart,
Crevasse of detritus as I tried to swim to shore,
As the sea mingles its ornery abhor,
With each passing surge I await you,
In calm rivers hope to find thee before me,
Without in the end your being,
Of you coming suddenly would be exhilarating?
To know my life wildfire of roseate days,
Swishing brine of the ocean sedates to sand,
As my breath is unobtrusive to antipathy of abandonment,
By AG 03/2018 CR
Mar 18, 2018
Mar 18, 2018 at 6:45 PM UTC
For if I dream
It be of only two....
And of deep and heartfelt kisses
And of eyes that gaze upon you
And a dream of you being my Mr.
My heart is the deepest cavern
Like a goldmine set on fire
And in your arms
You take me
Into the clouds...
Yet even higher
And with my strong arms I upsurge you
Like a warm and loving breeze
For when my eyes adorn you
I shiver...and quiver
And then I ask dear God...
To bless me with you please
And it don't matter how far away
The only voices that I'll hear
Is of you and me and our children in love
In laughter and without tears
For if I must live life without you
With Less of body or of mind
My love will always be here for you
Until the end of time
For love runs deep and true in me
And no rain can wash away
The love I'll always have as much for you
Tomorrow as I do today
You are my everything
That in my heart I'll forever keep
Your my gentle soul mate
My River...
In which my love runs deep
A loving man
Who has sealed my heart
And never left me to feel forlorn
And who has removed me from my sadness
To a woman whose hearts reborn
What have I done to deserve his love
As I gaze into the stars above
I am a woman whose mortal
Not much too see
I wonder how he does..
And under a silky shimmer of velvet light
Viewing down from the moon above
I finally realize
He has taught me...
How it is to be...
In love
Nov 27, 2011
Nov 27, 2011 at 2:06 AM UTC
**Right before the **** upsurge
trotted in the midst of ecstasy - -
an unleashed charlie horse,
hurled us unbridled asunder**
Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 8:06 AM UTC
The odist of a perfect bloom, without a doubt, with an upsurge of emancipated lust and all that was utterly free; that was you or maybe I should say, that was him.
And he was mine
He was mine…
But I did not possess him. I merely peeked in to his garden, my hands a mess of failed tries, which was bounded by the thorns I wasn’t quite strong enough to climb. I could not own an entity that made so many lust after his seamless embrace and at the same time, that which was petrifying.
Yet he felt lost in my gaze as if what he perceive in them made him fear what he saw in the reflections of his own mirror less. He watched me as though he could not believe one with so much to lose could fall in love with what he was in the most unconditional of ways.
Such a paradox.
He was perfect…
He was my perfection; the only genuine thing I could not find faults upon; a mangled piece of reality that made sense to my disheveled head. He was beautiful in a way that transcended what was ugly, what was fearful and unwanted. He was beauty that did not ask for permission or perspective but a force that was based on a whirlwind, pulling you in to his center.
He was my obsession…
For the longest of times, I did not believe there could be one as such with an absolute hold over another. It did not, nay, could not make sense for I was raised to believe free will was always at play.
Until then…
Until I discovered him…
Until I found he could be my reality and my reality could be in complete sync with his. It did not take time for my mind to wrap around this notion, because, conceivably, that is what obsession truly is, the complete loss of oneself in to the universe of another. Out of nowhere, free will was an illusion, a lie I would willingly let go; it was conundrum I found silly and not in need have. Why would I? There are non that plead fidelity and show restraint.
He made me believe he could be mine while he remained as many others and still I found no fault with his words. My needs transformed in to devotion, in to blind belief that there could not be one as graceful as he or nothing that could keep me wanting. My world was engulfed by a touch that was always so near and yet so far, just enough to have me keep the leash on my neck.
He could be my perfect obsession.
He was it.
Dec 9, 2018
Dec 9, 2018 at 6:19 AM UTC
Emotions are blown out of the water.
Upsurge of nuclear war.
Cold.
Let the wind blow.
Causation of chill.
Neglect in the whole.
Never ending abyss of emptiness.
Who caused this blatant travesty.
This justice undeserved.
Rough as glass-paper.
Ripped at skin.
Walked through sunshine.
Died in rain.
Cry once.
Cried twice.
Then he cried again.
'Jesus Christ.'
He left here only pain.
The man who left business unfinished.
Paint his skin yellow and let him bleed.
Be wary for sure.
He'll do it again!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 4:56 PM UTC
Ego
dissolved into a spellbound state
Access
to realms that were once beyond reach
And Like
unanticipated spaceflight
Ample
light upsurge, pumps inwards then out
Perfuse
in its race within the bloodstream
Spreading
through you, through me, Straight from heaven
Sep 3, 2019
Sep 3, 2019 at 11:54 AM UTC
Because of an upsurge in fatal accidents in the North Texas area, and elsewhere I'm sure, I believe it appropriate to repost this write.
There are many "you's" out there, on the highways, byways, freeways. Those that put others in harms way, excercising their egotistical need to be "first in line", "head of the class", so to speak; **** the torpedoes, full speed ahead!" is their rallying cry.
It makes no difference what "YOU" are driving, old vehicle, new vehicle. Perhaps an overly powerful pickup truck, or an SUV, that makes YOU feel IMMORTAL. Ice, snow, rain, dark of night, makes no difference to YOU. Inconsiderate, rude, careless, makes YOU, dangerous. Today is no different, its "all about YOU." Speeding, weaving in and out of traffic, no need for signals, tail-gating, trying to get that vehicle out of YOUR way, because YOU are being "INCONVENIENCED!" YOU, don't care! For this morning, like any other morning, "its all about YOU."
The lights are a bit glaring, as you begin to emerge from that state of unconsciousness, laying in that hospital bed, wondering where you are, who, and why, are those strangers standing around you.
They are the doctors, nurses, first responders, investigators, preparing for your reaction when you're told that the brains of your spouse and children had to be scraped off the pavement with a snow shovel.
You should be proud of yourself. For today is truly,
"All about YOU!"
copyright: richard riddle April 03, 2015
37 years as an accident investigator, have seen many of these. This piece was inspired by Jamie Burkes, "BOOM". Thanks, Jamie!
Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 2:28 AM UTC
This day never ends,
not for me.
Dressed in the guise of
weeks, months and years,
but to me,
it’s all one
never-ending day.
I am a wildcat in a cage
made of consequences,
vile people
and wrong turns.
I am not a child
nor a woman,
nor a human anymore.
I am an ANIMAL
trapped in a cage
made of flesh and bone,
tied and twisted
with veins and arteries
laced with toxic outrage
and liquid pain.
I am a BEAST
caught in a trap
so invisible,
no one else can see.
I am fangs and claws,
surviving only on the
basest instincts.
I want to rip
through flesh,
tear at my
private thoughts,
claw at the venomous
upsurge of emotion
flowing through
this battered heart
and dying spirit.
This day never ends,
not for me.
The years pass,
the scenery may change,
colors become muted,
life tastes bland,
but the day never ends,
never comes to a close.
It’s all a wicked
nightmare that screams
in your head,
then suddenly stops
and goes silent,
waiting for you to find
your comfortable place
again,
only to reach out
with sadistic pleasure
and grab you
with unremitting vigor.
If there is an end,
my eyes are blind to it.
One day I will
finally explode
and all that I am
and have ever been
will ooze out,
drenching everything
in its wake,
like hard rain.
One day the madness
will cease,
life will come to a
standstill;
till that time comes
my life will continue
on this dark, morbid road,
and the day will
never end…
at least not for me.
-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights
May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 9:13 AM UTC
less than
the upsurge of bitter bile
yesterday’s failure
rides his chariot
like blank abyss
because what is money for if not love?
and what is money for if not emotional connection?
and every day spurns a tilt
of forgetting why
we’re together at all
“hey dad i think you treat mom like ****
“what are you talking about remember that time she left you at the mall”
“i don’t see what that has to do with your own personal conduct”
“ask her about it sometime”
why would i ever want to be
spilt tea across the cloth
on a main street in
mise en abyme
south d
“it’s idiots like your mother who are running the world into the ground”
my mother is a stay at home wife.
Aug 8, 2019
Aug 8, 2019 at 8:35 AM UTC
*There she stood with a forsaken look,
Holding close to her breast a tattered book
Suddenly her nervous gaze fell upon me
I froze; my eyes glazed and I couldn’t see.
Couldn’t bear the sadness in her eyes
My heart was filled with un-exhaled sighs
Suffered she had a lot, in life’s meandering by - lane
The passing gusts hurting her like a hapless wind vane.
An emotional upsurge welled deep inside me
To protect her, to warm her freezing hands
To offer her solace, comfort her
And take upon myself the cause of her misery
But the moment was lost, as if ****** in by the sea
She was gone, in the desert, like a billowing grain of sand.
An entrancing soul and a classical beauty,
In freezing weather standing under the yew tree
Who was she? I guess I shall never know
A misty dream still lingers inside my heart’s window.*
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 2:22 AM UTC
the upsurge of these saline dew
is beyond control
knows no emotions,
nor stimuli
for when it flows,
expect an uprising.
Jan 19, 2019
Jan 19, 2019 at 12:50 PM UTC