"visages" poems
the sunflowers gleamed
in the noon day sun
their flourish of color
couldn't be out done
the sparrows flitted
above their ravishing visages
they were enchanted
by their dazzling mirages
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 12:00 PM UTC
the sunflowers gleamed
in the noon day sun
their flourish of colour
couldn't be out done
the sparrows flitted
above their ravishing visages
they were enchanted
by their dazzling mirages
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 8:32 AM UTC
Subdued and seduced by sounds so sultry
floating with fantastic phonetic finesse
vibrant voices vehicled via visages
the magical message making me a mess
each seconds surrenders me speechless
praying for the process of progress
kissing, caressing, conspire in concision
affection and adoration an admirable ambition
Subdued and seduced by sounds so sultry
floating with fantastic phonetic finesse
vibrant voices vehicled via visages
the magical message making me a mess
beautiful belles becoming begrime
rendered ready by my written rhyme
won with wonderfully whispered wit
foment flattery in a fanatic fit
Subdued and seduced by sounds so sultry
floating with fantastic phonetic finesse
vibrant voices vehicled via visages
the magical message making me a mess
Sep 11, 2010
Sep 11, 2010 at 5:39 PM UTC
Went down, slippery cold stairs
Spiraling down, words on walls,
The paper sheets?
Heard the music down there...
Down... Down...
I've heard it before;
Down... Down... Rumble down...
An underground celebration,
So I went - down.
(the cave)
Infants were there, dark rooms,
Bathing in the boiling red wine,
Laughing madly in the fumes,
The ceiling and walls were moist and dripping.
These babies, visages of chimera,
Evil grins cutting their faces,
Evil smiles, gruesome masks
and cigars in their hands, claws...
-Stop!!!
This I will unleash,
One day, whiskey, liqours,
Yeah.
Beers, drinks... rumbling.
Calm dark surface of the lake
At night
And the carnival nearby,
Mile away or so...
you can hear their sounds,
muted slightly;
faint lights of torches,
at the other side of lake.
Weird tribesmen
Praising the summer solstice
With howls, maracas,
Tiny bells, dance,
Fire.
-But listen to me now!
Now, when you hear me,
Look here, look closely.
Put your hand in me,
Can't you feel I'm almost boiling?
I'm no mud, I'm a clear water,
Almost as a spring!
Swift and clear - and hot.
and dark.
Jan 4, 2018
Jan 4, 2018 at 6:43 PM UTC
Remember your neighbourhood in the late afternoon sun
Your body small, mind innocent
Every image a wonder, visages of beautiful naivety
The earth was a different place
All you owned were a box full of toys and a smile on your face
Love wasn't your hunt and conquest
Adventure could only quench that thirst
Wonderful, everything was
Freedom in childhood
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 9:20 PM UTC
Darling, the night is dark yet I can see you so clearly.
I swear it's the starlight in the eyes of the girl I hold so dearly.
It's just so unfair that I can't look away, your gaze has me under your spell.
How do you do it? I'd love to know how you do it so well.
The night has just begun and I've only started to woo, but it seems you've turned the tables round since I can't take my eyes off of you.
It must be some sort of witchcraft since I've never been so quick to fall.
Your voice is that of angels and I can't help but heed the call.
With every whisper my heart flutters and I'm the slave of your whims.
The room has an aroma of roses and the once bright light dims.
The night has halfway through and I'm at a loss of what to do, I'm enthralled by your visages as you can tell since I can't take my eyes off of you.
The time for dance is over, but the morning has yet to arrive.
And I'd like to take you home while we both feel so alive.
Your energy and your charms have taken their effect, I just can't resist.
Even if it take's till morning I promise one way or another you have to be kissed.
The night is almost over and surprised you came out of the blue, you've cursed me with love and now I can't take my eyes off of you.
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 7:08 PM UTC
Let me paint you a picture
Using nice long strokes
And beautifully vivid colors
And as with most works of art
My muse is the tale of two lovers
Plus one, two, three
Or was it four others
I seem to have lost count
With re-occurrences and all
And their masks seem to blur
As I get lost in our thrall
I tell you love is like a sun
Beautiful to look at
But will blind you
If you stare just a little too long
Unable to see a single mistake
When everything is going wrong
So I paint over the visages
Of him, him, her, and him
But the paint is just not thick enough
How could it be?
When the stain of betrayal
Isn’t quite painted, but carved
When the knives in the back
Sink through to the heart
And while it’s true
That the color of apology
Works well as a cover-up
Only time truly hides scars
And that’s what you wanted
Wasn’t it
Was time apart?
But it’s just not right
That you got to make that call
Without even a fight
You just want to call it a night
So go ahead and sketch the dark
And I will paint the stars
Because that’s what we are
Memories mirrored in paint
From the nights
Where you cried and I kissed you
To the days
Where our phone calls
Ended with I miss you
And I know
You’re not cursed with the memory
People think I’m blessed with
So let this serve to remind you
Of when times were best and
Then maybe you’ll feel some regret
Not the kind where watercolors
Stain your perfect portrait
I’m talking about life changing emotion
So that maybe there won’t be reprints
Sold at every corner auction
I want something hung in a museum
Something people would traverse
The world to see
And when they do
They don’t know what they feel
Because it’s hard to believe
That it’s even real
Seeing love with its contrast
And how you treated it
Like a contract
Made with an expiration date
Set even since our first date
When you gave me that brush
Inspiring me to paint
So that is what I did
And this is its masterpiece
And now
I guess I need a new brush
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 4:39 PM UTC
There's the mosh...sordid details that thing...
creeping of sort...retelling...to stay in focus.
A silent film whose black borders encapsulate
a slab of skyward white.
Visages...opening...opened...to interpretation.
"The apparition of these faces in a crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough."....ashen...
daguerreotype of a Zen Garden.
All of nature's pretties cast in an occult brew...
stirred, and stirring...composite sketches posted
and burned upon lampposts.
At large...ritualistic making-of-face...illusion
trafficking the ever present primes of lives...
"the center of which is everywhere, the
circumference nowhere."...attestation o' mugs.
Visages...plucked from a year of our lord,
to be...rendezous of all light's putting to...
years thereof.
Alien unto thyself...oogly boogly, yet mirror-imaging...
behold/beheld/beholden.
By sleight of Hand...visages, who'd otherwise
be as soon pruned and leathery, inanimate under the
sun.
Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 11:19 PM UTC
*Mirror! Mirror! On the wall
Though art the cause of many a fall
What with them endless hours adjusting and re-adjusting
Visages to desired perfection mindless of the misgiving.
Wearing masks in a variety of color
In a bid to entice a bachelor
With whose heart she’ll most disconcertingly hold ransom
Anticipating a blossom
Of a methodically engineered relationship
Minding her speech lest a Freudian slip
Nips at the bud
Her good “fortune” exposing her as a fraud.
Perfect imperfections, perfectly mirrored
By an imperfect mirror…*absurd.
Dec 11, 2013
Dec 11, 2013 at 9:11 AM UTC
there were things
i had never imagined
i would understand
be; experience
and gape bemusedly at my
unbelieving ambiguous eyes
in the unnoticeably clear
smiling mirror of the bathroom.
things such as
being a creep
the creep whose wandering eye
wanders just a wee bit longer.
A microsecond length of
the not-understood, the suspicious,the dubious
the curious sometimes,
but really mostly nefarious lunatic, perhaps...?
the creep whose teeth clench into a
smile.
the lips parting
but only
Mendaciously...perhaps..?
the creep who peers into me
like a god
scouring my precious little secrets
my hurt points,
my loci of scandalous innocuous things
meant to be inside of me
for my self.
the creep who infringes
on my warm bed
of Safety.
***
********
erectile dysfunction
sneer
******
*****
me
father
mother
weirdity
all the complexes
that make you Feel
like a spider
whose web is shattered with
but an uncaring finger.
power.
Uncaring Callousness
terrifying in it's brutality
intent ,
and things beyond .
the creep peers in.
but i was only trying
to make friends.
a bit too hard , perhaps...?
oh the creeps of the world
i understand thy plight
the fact that you never understand
what you are
doing
but only after it has passed
that the black hole irises
of un-understanding visages
come to you
to inform you
that you have been
a creep, the Creep.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 1:07 AM UTC
Spellbinding sparkling queues of pearly faces
Seethe in a gemstone sea of lips and beaks.
Veiling night, my Nirvana, leads us places
Fraught with clandestine lies and feathered peaks.
The hidden eyes reflect the burning light
Rampant within the painful lifelong dance
And swivel southward, scorched with silent fright;
Parades of fiends swing by at ev'ry glance.
Burn the voiceless witches! Condemn the dead!
Slash the hopeless visages to the night!
Raccoons, exposing drooling mouths unfed--
Charming music conceals their true delight.
I, the regisseur, perform my role
Then fade behind the mask that chokes my soul.
Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 12:53 PM UTC
Preludium, or, what has gone before:
A man makes his way, alone,
Through rocky ash and bluff,
His feet a mass of ****** scabs
His throat gruff with rust.
In his savage thirst he sees, delirious,
The City from whence he flees;
The City that stole his Name.
Furious! O righteous hate;
Bubbling! Consuming! Melding with his haze of pain:
Fickle Justice! Intangible Law! Humble Equity!
Alien words for an alien time
That has quickly descended to muck.
But we must leave this Nameless nomad
To his dark visages, for now.
Perhaps we shall return
To plough his tale and groan
To find him drowned in thirst;
In self-pity, the liquid fire.
For now- to the City, we are bound!
And the mind of one so fortunate, as to still call his Name his own.
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 11:13 AM UTC
Such a shame to let loose
That I have absolutely no clue what I'm doing
But pretending seems to work so well;
You all claw at plasticine symbols
The letters deplored with a swish of the ink well.
Calligraphic self destructions mean something to somebody
Over an ocean with eyes so slight as to shine in the darkness,
Glinting in robes of black on the rooftops of rich dynastics
And the rhymes of yesterday creeping to the forefront,
Reminding me just of how hopeless hopelessness is--
The assonance of a retreating boxcar
Is steaming into the backdrops of consciousness.
Is it time to rewind somewhere?
The visages of paintings only mean so much
To the blind bats on cave walls in cavernous reaches
Of static television snow drifts.
It seems that you and I have come to the biggest of filamentous rifts:
Sifting between now and then we have mind-skips
Of epic proportion, a sickened distortion
Of all of the children left in their contortions
It's all leprosy in my eyes
Since the skies are burning down as we pinpoint abortion.
And we release that defeat, and try to find meaning in it all:
A lie of great size
Told from my lips yet it was--
You who believed me.
Together we made a chimera
A deception even worse than anything I've ever known
I said that some god had told me all the things that
that
that--
I can't begin to begin an apology
My mouth mummified by request next to Jeremy Bentham
I only wanted what's best for you--
But look at what you've done!
Oh, Crusades! Oh, Crusades!
Children don't lie with your eyes on the sunset
For Nietzsche is the ultimate navigator!
And you finally catch sight of the top of an alligator
floating in the oil, staring at you
slanted eyes smiling cruel.
It all makes sense now, what half believed lies
That explain how the darkness will come to rise
But the opposite side of our crystalline marble
Has known all along, they knew all along!
Facing the east, wasn't He?
Then even he knew
Perhaps what I said was not all untrue
And in fact
the fault lies with Him
Not me,
Not you.
Sincerely,
The Bible.
Dec 30, 2010
Dec 30, 2010 at 6:09 PM UTC
*When I find a seat in the bus
thoughts throng me words rush
when I stand in the jostle I regret
how rhymes are frittered go a-waste!
But in standing there's a silver lining
I care to see the visages around me
darkly grim or happily shining
the many faces of moving poetry!*
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 3:02 AM UTC
to us, seekers of beauty,
blue kaleidoscope
ment nothing,
we've never found it
for we knew not
anything about
singular
alone-ness
sunset visages
sang songs
in return
early spring dancing
a million secret
blessings burnt
effervescent organisms
coiling as subtle
sea of reciprocity,
effervescent offerings,
offsprings
ramblings
scattered and undisturbed
quenching quietness,
thirst satiated at
meadows mists.
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 2:55 PM UTC
I ain't ever gonna be the man
I was supposed to be.
Oh no, that shining soul,
was washed out to sea.
But maybe, just maybe,
I'll become who I am,
Turn in, quite magically,
To the best version of myself.
One day, on a wish,
I'll stop dreading my being,
I'll look into the mirror,
And accept the fact I am seeing.
I will no longer mourn the skin I have shed,
The layers of self,
The visages of what could have,
Should have been.
I am that I am,
My brother and mother are long dead,
My father now, distantly,
I will climb.
This pit will no longer hold,
My essence, no longer keep,
Me imprisoned, I'll decide my limits,
I'll reach my heavens.
And I might even take you,
I might very well build a home,
A place for us, and our living,
I might just become who I am,
Before I turn into dust.
I only have this one chance, to turn around
Before my life crumbles in rust...
I must, I don't know, but I'll struggle,
Until I can handle,
oh or till the day I can trust,
The way you look at me.
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 2:08 AM UTC
No more time for pain.
Tear stains.
Or sobs.
Shrieks at the top of your lungs!
Frustrated fidgeting,
Or furious dialect.
The true depths of sorrow,
unreached yet,
Shall remain unexplored.
The heights of fury and rage,
Shall be another days venture.
(Or hopefully never).
Visions of disliked visages,
Traitorous touches torturing the thoughts,
Lustily leaving lover and friend
Twitching,
Writhing,
Boiling,
Melting,
Rotting,
And congealing into a puddle of humanity
at the knowledge of their philandering.
Numbness sinks through the dermis,
Hiding hints of heartbeats,
Silencing skins sweet sensations.
Breathing,
But barely.
No time for sensation,
Emotion,
Expression,
Interest,
Thought,
Muttering,
Mentioning,
Murmuring,
Meditating.
Reform some semblance of humanity.
No time for languishing,
Luridly,
Lethargically,
Liquefying.
Only enough time for a little poetry.
And then,
Hopefully,
Life.
Apr 28, 2013
Apr 28, 2013 at 3:22 PM UTC
~~~~English~~~~
The air is filled with the song of birds
And the cooing of the mourning dove
Pastel clouds float across the morning sky
And the sun smiles happily at the dew
Which kisses the faces of flowers and plants
Cool breezes caress my cheeks
And the trees bow and nod in the blowing wind
Paths are greeted with the beautiful morning-
A lovely new day
Beauty is everywhere!
~~~~French~~~~
L'air est rempli avec le chant des oiseaux
Et le roucoulement de la Tourterelle triste
Pastels nuages flottent dans le ciel du matin
Et le soleil sourit joyeusement la rosée
Qui embrasse les visages des fleurs et plantes
Brises fraîches caressent mes joues
Et l'arc d'arbres et de clin de œil dans le vent soufflant
Chemins d'accès sont accueillis avec le beau matin-
Une belle journée
La beauté est partout !
~Hilda~
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 5:32 PM UTC
Regarde les squelettes qui dansent dans la cour
Et l'odeur de violette qui va chassant le jour.
Hier encore la fête, les nombreux petits-fours,
Le sel des cacahuètes et le son des tambours.
Aujourd'hui qu'elle est **** la joie de Mariette :
Quelques restes de pain sur la table - des miettes -
Et des grains de raisins que grignotent les guêpes,
Quand le rouge du vin nous fait perdre la tête.
Ils cliquettent les rires et grelottent les os ;
Il chuinte le sabir des cages dans ce zoo :
Mariette et Amir sont partis tout là-haut
Sans même prévenir : j'en ai froid dans le dos.
Regarde les squelettes qui dansent dans la cour
Et l'odeur de violette qui va chassant le jour.
Amir était poète, Mariette un amour.
Qui sait que la mort guette quand on a de l'humour ?
Hier, à la rivière, nous lancions des pierres,
Les canettes de bières et les traits de lumières
Éclairaient nos visages et plissaient nos regards :
Qui sait que les présages ressembl'nt aux nénuphars ?
Mariette portait ses jolies perles jaunes
Et son rire de Corte. Amir était un faune
Dont la longue crinière nous mettaient en chaleur.
Qu'ils étaient beaux et fiers : quand j'y pense je pleure
Regarde les squelettes qui dansent dans la cour
Et l'odeur de violette qui va chassant le jour.
C'est une étrange valse, une valse à trois temps,
Celle du temps qui passe et te chasse, entêtant.
Hier, ce jour, demain : étourdissant manège
Aux chevaux de bois dur où je pleurais enfant.
Osselets de mes mains, et mes pieds dans la neige :
Quelle est cette blessure où s'épuise mon sang ?
Mariette pleurait et riait à la fois,
Qu'Amir aux yeux dorés nous raconte l'émoi
De leur premier baiser sous un bel amandier.
Leurs visages apaisés nous ont incendiés.
Regarde les squelettes qui dansent dans la cour
Et l'odeur de violette qui va chassant le jour...
Nov 12, 2017
Nov 12, 2017 at 3:09 AM UTC
transformation happens, as a matter of course
transformation happens, as a matter of course
the face of a rock, doth alter over a millennium
the face of a rock, doth alter over a millennium
as a matter of course the face of a rock doth alter
over a millennium transformation happens
sandstone cliffs wearing away, seas gouging their visages
sandstone cliffs wearing away, seas gouging their visages
an example of this is seen, on the Great Ocean Road
an example of this is seen, on the Great Ocean Road
seas gouging their visages an example of this is seen
on the Great Ocean Road sandstone cliffs wearing away
the appearance of a dial changes, with the passing of time
the appearance of a dial changes, with the passing of time
no formation stays static, the elements of nature ever at work
no formation stays static, the elements of nature ever at work
a dial's appearance changes the elements of nature ever at work
no formation stays static with the passing of time
transformation happens with the passing of time
an example of this is seen on the Great Ocean Road
the appearance of a dial changes sandstone cliffs wearing away
no formation stays static seas gouging their visages
the elements of nature ever at work as a matter of course
the face of a rock doth alter over a millennium
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 2:30 AM UTC
i was born into a generation immune to tragedy,
conditioned, we have been made, to calamity.
hearts hardened by television images,
minds numb at the sight of pained visages.
i was born into a generation wrought with fear,
for the end of the world is coming near.
whether by anthropogenic atmospheric grumblings,
or symbols of american freedom crumbling,
the earth is no longer our home.
a place where mind, body, and spirit
are subject to torment,
and every child's aspirations must lie dormant.
the world, as i know it, is an unwelcoming place,
no matter what your sexuality, age, gender, or race.
our forefathers have pillaged our once overflowing pockets
to fulfill empty goals on lofty campaign dockets.
what is left is ours to fix, though not by choice,
and nobody knows if "they" hear our voice.
i was born into a generation less than "Great",
yet it is only we who can determine our fate.
May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 12:09 AM UTC
A wonderful flowing mess of wind, hair, and face. The face, swirling away amongst the clouds. Like water, it evaporates into the atmosphere, only to be rained down again upon the world. Beautiful face particles, hydrating the plants and animals and splashing upon the rocks. Face bubbles. But are they small individual particles, each a different color, a different shade of the face? Or are they all the colors of the face swirled into one? Swirl upon swirl. The plants and animals will take in these particles, growing with them, nourished by them, reflecting them in their own visages. Immortal? or inorganic?
May 1, 2012
May 1, 2012 at 6:09 PM UTC
Alpha and omega like a womb;
Visions and visages in kaleidoscope rooms...
Hanging on drapes of blue;
Impressive orbs of translucent hues...
Waves break in an
Eternal haste in time
As you float down into
Space and
Your tummy aches on
Seemingly misplaced dreams.
Dreams spewed together, in an internal river that shimmers
Like a dragonfly wing,
Like lava lamps and vintage photos, out of focus...
Or when the
Whispers disperse,
In the rain..
Reminiscent of bubbles floating,
Suspended,
Guided inklings and transparent meanings;
Reflections in mirrors or
On water,
In spoons or car windows...
An underbelly of inner kingdoms
Almost pillaged and buried by age;
Remaining only by hope or faith,
Like Camelot In its wake,
Only to glide to sleep
Where redemption sweeps in soft on swift heels.
Reminiscent of the rose bushes in that fairy tale Sleeping Beauty,
Where soldiers bodies were left to decay.
Aug 6, 2015
Aug 6, 2015 at 4:40 AM UTC
A la terrasse du café «Le Matin» aux Carmes
(Dédié à Abder, Jean-Pierre et Toinou)
Le soleil était brûlant
Et la chaleur comme du plomb
Pas possible de rester à l'intérieur,
Dans l'étuve, alors je sorti
Me protéger sous un parasol,
ou ce qui en tenait lieu
Tenant le verre
De «coca-glaçons» a la main.
Les parasols tamisaient mal
L'ardeur du soleil.
Mais un Zéphyr nous donnait
un souffle de fraîcheur,
Si bienfaisante,
Que je commençais
A me sentir bien et être
moins oppressé par le rythme fou
la fureur et les violences
du Monde et à me réconcilier
avec cette myriade de visages
Si variés de l'humanité
parcourant, rapides et pressés
allez savoir pourquo ? En ce
Dix-huit juillet, la «rue des Filatiers».
Les demoiselles, courts vêtues.
Étaient ravissantes, en cet été,
Ou ne manquaient que les faunes,
décidés à les séduire,
Et parfois, un éclair de chair
Entrevue, virevoltant, comme
un poisson volant.
Venait troubler mon calme
En aiguiser des désirs enfouis.
Je vis passer l'ami d'Abder
Étrangement pressé; je le hélais
Il me dit aller prendre son café Italien,
Et être enfin en vacances,
L'après-midi s'annonçait
Délicieuse et je commençais
A congédier tout stress
Et toute entrave à la délicieuse
Sensation de se sentir vivre,
Je me pris a songer aux lézards
Des rochers de notre Corse
Et aux chants des oiseaux.
Le temps, s'était comme arrêté
et l’ une horloge s’était cassée
Seul, s'imposait, à moi
L'impératif et le goût de vivre
Mais aussi de ressentir intensément,
cette sensation aiguë et finalement trop rare,
De se sentir vivre, partie prenante
Du rythme de la rue et de des flâneurs.
Je songeais à Jean-Sol Partre
A ces philosophies de l'existence
Qui sont, le Maître l’a dit: «un Humanisme»
Et à ce quartier des Carmes,
Enchanteur et fébrile,
que j'ai toujours aimé
pour sa variété de lumières
d'accents et de saveurs.
J'ai voulu durant de longs instants
pouvoir figer ce moment
Et à ce que les visages de la vie
restent si charmeurs et variés
J'avais face à moi ce bouquet de vie
s'écoulant à ce coin de rues
Devant le café «Le Matin»
Faisant assurément partie.
De mes bars préférés à Toulouse
Car l'on y voit passer
Tant d'inconnus et de figures amies.
Paul Arrighi
Jul 26, 2016
Jul 26, 2016 at 10:17 AM UTC