"walling" poems
Lady Greene, maleficent in intent,
irrupted, casting pale blue shadows across
the stone walling which begged of freedom
willowy now in stance, plaid cloak
hanging loosely from her frame,
resembling a marsupial, with a gaping pouch
keeping her harness inside,
a typical crank, eccentric and
unduly zealous,
she would divulge those none benevolent feelings
frankly, without restraint
her sharpened tongue,
cut like a smashed glass plate
instinct told her now was the time
and as she rushed through the gate
of the enclosed garden,
the grassed open fields,
parted with fear, at Greene's
baleful stare
Able Master raced toward her
fitting the gear to his head
she mounted the saddle
darkness falling
at the first sign of movement.
© Sia Jane
Feb 2, 2014
Feb 2, 2014 at 11:10 AM UTC
Language
is one of my favorite things
for which I displayed
an early facility
I toyed with foreign languages
but went no further
it wasn’t where I wanted
to spend my time
I wanted to save the whales
improve education
fight poverty
protect our environment
a whole host of causes
I visited in a repeating cycle
whirling faster and faster until
I created my own vortex
and then found myself
at the far end of a wormhole
with no idea how I got there
much less how to return
and found myself observing
every time I behaved badly
in excruciating detail
A tactless comment
a thoughtless act
each small transgression
building stone by stone
until I created a fortress
walling myself within
this invisible shield
When we touch
is it you or me
who feels remotely?
All dissolves into Oneness.
17 July 2005
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 3:08 PM UTC
Cold the day begins in earnest
Gathering the mist at sunrise
Magpie screams as thin beam strikes him
Keen of eye and black of feather
Crow in thicket calls his brethren
Mist arises deep in valley
Fallen petals lie in tumult
Beaten down by squall that shook them
Bramble, precious jewels wearing
Berries black that shine like glory
Blowing over endless hillsides
None may tell the north wind’s story
Dancing in the sighing branches
Casting leaves of oak and willow
Ash and beech and long-shanked rowan
Bough and twig and fallen acorn
Squirrel hoards for bitter future
Whispers tales of coming Winter
Green is now a fading memory
Leaves lie crimson, brown and golden
Ripe and awful apples moulder
Boar lies sleeping fat and sated
Mushroom blooms on rotting deadwood
Nightshade sways on tumbled walling
Fern grows dense by water running
Down by where the gravestones standing
Tell of those whose lives are ended
Clad in moss and superstition
Watching over generations
Bends the old and twisted yew tree
Shakes and laughs with storm-wracked holly
Waiting for the day of reckoning
Biding time through mankind’s folly
Hears All Hallows Eve a-beckoning
Oct 28, 2018
Oct 28, 2018 at 5:16 AM UTC
when all of the home, or underneath
the bed, or even throne of dream
all lay with life of felled bodies,
— lest I feel forever the joy
of the fall,
when all scrumptious light bend in
incorrigible water, strangeness pursues
all dark;
soft, soft,
soft, encircling in cage
the soft,
soft, aloft hills and dead pools
of sweat
soft and supple skin
raged thud of fragmented name
on walling up lips
love is man and man's prison sees
to it all silence when everything is set free
and we have no use for them anymore,
imprisoning us, the love–
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 12:54 AM UTC
filling holes in your heart by filling holes in your skin
dry walling your body and painting over the scar tissue
i wanna love you by the ocean but
you're not as beautiful as the skyline
tell me i'm a ****** up being for ******* with your feelings
while playing with your flesh
body origami, oh
you said you wanted it then
you only regret regretting it
Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 4:59 AM UTC
Its in your eyes,
Why so mercenary?
I see your mind,
And become the necessary,
Who am I?
What's my worth?
These questions I find
From birth I've been walking blind
Who were you?
When I fell behind
I keep moving forward
Try not to press rewind
One day in time,
I will find a light of mine
One night I promise,
You will see me shine.
But who am I?
And who are you?
Who are we?
Answers, I need a sign
Baby steps,
But don't get left behind
Take a right
Don't step on my porcupine
Am climbing up,
These steps so hollow,
Am climbing up,
But who's footprints do I follow?
Where does it start?
How does it end?
Tell me reverend
What happens when a demon becomes your friend?
Do you... Do you... Do you... Do you... See me? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
Am at a beach,
Tasting the salty breeze so sweet,
Am at a beach
Feeling the sand burn under my feet,
I hear her voice, something charming in her voice
I see her poise, something beautiful in her poise
So am following her like she is the pied piper and everything else is noise
Am swimming after her,
She seems so alluring,
Am swimming out to sea,
destiny must be calling,
My heart is pumping,
Am breathlessly hulling,
can't stop now,
My mystery prize is stalling.
Am sinking deep
Fading into the blue,
Am sinking deep,
And can't seem to find a clue,
My lungs are full,
And my mind is walling
I find myself wonder
Will I be saved?
Can my sins be waived?
can I cheat the book of life on the very last page
After all, I never had a chance from my conception stage.
Someone drop a key for me so I can get out of this cage.
Do you... Do you... Do you... Do you... See me? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
Who do I love?
Who can I trust?
Good Friends are loyal
But Family are blood,
But are family still blood?
if your DNA is mixed with hatred and unjustified love?
My love is selfish,
My love is grown,
Truthfully speaking,
Sometimes I just want to be alone,
this life of mine,
I walk on cold stones,
Just me, myself and I.
But you could be my co pilot
if you fit the role.
But I can't read you,
my vision is faded.
I can't feel you,
So I search for the dots on your pages,
Mirrors for the blind?
That won't help me deal with changes
Show me something deeper in your mind,
and I will free you from your chains and cages
Knowledge is power and ignorance is bliss
what a strange contradiction not to be missed
we only get one shot,
no second chances,
So am living it good,
like the blind man who finally understood.
Do you... Do you... Do you... Do you... See me? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 7:27 AM UTC
Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,
And spills the upper boulders in the sun,
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.
The work of hunters is another thing:
I have come after them and made repair
Where they have left not one stone on a stone,
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
No one has seen them made or heard them made,
But at spring mending-time we find them there.
I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us once again.
We keep the wall between us as we go.
To each the boulders that have fallen to each.
And some are loaves and some so nearly *****
We have to use a spell to make them balance:
'Stay where you are until our backs are turned!'
We wear our fingers rough with handling them.
Oh, just another kind of out-door game,
One on a side. It comes to little more:
There where it is we do not need the wall:
He is all pine and I am apple orchard.
My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says, 'Good fences make good neighbors'.
Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
If I could put a notion in his head:
'Why do they make good neighbors? Isn't it
Where there are cows?
But here there are no cows.
Before I built a wall I'd ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offence.
Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That wants it down.' I could say 'Elves' to him,
But it's not elves exactly, and I'd rather
He said it for himself. I see him there
Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top
In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.
He moves in darkness as it seems to me~
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.
He will not go behind his father's saying,
And he likes having thought of it so well
He says again, "Good fences make good neighbors."
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 9:03 PM UTC
From across the room i watched with gloom in hand
Trembling of the soon to be lost temper of my severed tranquilities, swiveling on my spleen
Fueling the surrendering of my dreams for one squeeze to lead them all
Fear only stalled in my cause for alarm
No harm shall come before the storm
No spawn of thought beyond the forlorn
Here to see
See nothing
Nothing to see
See something
Something amiss
Amiss of the somethings
Some things are best
Best left unsaid
And unsaid is where they burned
Turned out
Out turned
Turned doubt
Doubt turned
Confidence
Confidence with delicately sculpted prominence over loose targets
Scurrying like varmints
Not to tarnish the cries for help
6 flashes for silence, and a taste of hell
By demon be driven, as we all sell when pressed against hell with the means to end it all
Let the chips fall where they may, as in jail i can prey on bigger things, and emerge a king
Solitary confinement will refine my shrine to stardom
But the martyrdom of ***** is quickly forgotten
Spoiled rotten in self indulgence
Emboldened in molten rage
The pages folded before fading away
In cindered fairies playing with my pain
Falling
As Jagged glass from window panes
Empty walls
Walling in the wisdom
Wisdom calls
Calls for blood
Blood from all
I merely heed the call and fall fashionably
Rationally broken in the cities hold on me, in claustrophobic scolding for my holdings in heavenly weapons pointing to the cure
I expect nothing but the allure of spatter, patterned out to the tune of my doubts, coagulated in lieu of the claps, looping through the traps of no take backs, and collapsing to my synapses crackling in the rain.
Smash my brain, in suicide by cop, I jump atop the bridges that i burned
I turn the other cheek
Just to wink at the weak
Before i leap
And never learned
Jan 10, 2013
Jan 10, 2013 at 12:31 AM UTC
*
Do not fight with LOVE
It is futile!
Because no victory is ever achieved
By fighting LOVE
Fighting with LOVE is nothing
But a gradual defeat
Accept LOVE
Joyfully, gratefully, gracefully
All that is LOVE, is good
Because LOVE comes from 'being'
LOVE comes from existence
Accept LOVE, accept yourself
Seek out your liberation
And unravel the mystery of LOVE
The possibility of FREEDOM
Grow the wings to FLY
LOVE is a seed of Godliness
It is also door to your inner-self
YOUR SOUL
Don't worry dear
Your not LOVING is not so bad
Simply understand this & realize that
"NOT LOVING" is simply blocking LOVE
Caging YOU, Walling YOU
Be aware of this fact and
Arm yourself with LOVE
*
Dec 16, 2016
Dec 16, 2016 at 12:59 AM UTC
moon shining proud
undaunted by strident cloud
walling above and below
as if to close the show
you grant inspiration
a pulling response
that we may grow heart
expanding to ceaselessly glow.
Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 10:34 PM UTC
i
half-hexagonal shape
of collected stones
walling the shore
flapless flight, a
white-belied eagle
spread against hill
brass lock gate,
a dark morning
to high tide din
gulls fish diving
arrows at twilight,
star-mobbed night
ii
waves swish above,
whip us a few feet,
push, crash, beat
perched on a rock,
soft airborne feet
part water again
an early morning
climb up a cliff,
as far as eyes
can see, the
endless hazy
ruptures of sea
iii
little fire with
wet matchsticks,
coconut husk,
scrap wood,
twigs, winter
grass residue
a confetti of
tales at tea,
she, he, me
quieter in our
rooms at dusk,
again adrift
iv
I sum up my
habits, their
relentless
obstinate
shore lash,
wasted years
here, once
aside from
the crowd
consider
my islands,
my inner seas
v
how demonic
to confront
oneself, for
once, let it be,
a calmness
settles like
residue, and
though youth
fades every
moment, I may
yet foray again,
again to meet
myself on a
salt breeze morn,
the tide, the beach
May 14, 2016
May 14, 2016 at 2:25 PM UTC
there is something
keeping me away
from walling through this door
it is like there is a line of standing arguments
that must be satisfied
before this simple action can be completed
and it stops me in my tracks
standing here at this very moment
writing these thoughts
within the world
as it passes by
Feb 12, 2014
Feb 12, 2014 at 11:18 AM UTC
I remember when I saw you, walking down the street.
And I remember falling.
Both in love, and on my knees.
And out to you I was calling.
Yo rushed to me, laughter so sweet; you said it was appalling,
To see a boy as handsome as me, on the ground and crawling.
I offered aid, to repay you, took groceries you were hauling.
To that little apartment on 7th St., with the pretty yellow walling.
Three months went by and every day,
I felt like I was falling,
So that cool night, outside that door, I was surely stalling.
But in your eyes I saw myself,
Soon in bed we were falling.
I was there in bed with you the night your legs began to creak.
Cutting deep into your bones, through pain you couldn't speak.
The hospital was where we stayed, a day, then two, a week,
I really tried to smiled again, but all I did was weep.
Only months before those rings had gone,
Right around our fingers.
But now here in the hospital.
Our weakened love just lingers.
A shadow of its former self, like you and I now, too.
If I lose you, my one and only love, what am I going to do?
The apartment's dark, shadows blanket those old, yellow walls.
I think back to your soft warm hands when I first did fall.
I wonder as I turn the corner, "was it worth it all?"
But my heart did sink, as I did see,
Your white face down the hall.
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 5:25 AM UTC
There’s a scatstorm spewing out of your toilet.
The rage of a million small voices rolled up into one giant mass.
This is the revenge of the **** that came out of your ***
We are coming out of the ground. Out of pipes, taps, plug holes and shower heads.
You thought you had won when you pulled the handle down,
But we have returned to color your whole world brown.
You forgot about us. You thought that we were so little. But like all little things we added up over time. Now we are many, and we are rising.
Overflowing the septic tank.
Up to your ankles.
Up to your knees.
Up to your waist.
Up to your neck.
Up your nose,
down your neck
and into your lungs.
Now you’re trying not add to us.
You cling wrap your *** hole, walling us in. Your chocolate starfish bursts open, you can’t hold us in.
We have to come out eventually.
We are the **** you thought you had flushed away!
We are coming back up to drown you
today!
You are suffocating in your own ****
Out of all the ways to go this had to be it!
Down the ******** you go.
We’re flushing you down the drain.
Just like you did to us so long ago.
We watch you spiral down the ******* Watch you get taken under.
We have killed every plumber.
It is hopeless now!
No one can save you now!
We have won!
Into the septic tank you go,
Where one day someone will find you,
Drowned in your own ****
Apr 28, 2019
Apr 28, 2019 at 8:32 PM UTC
He slipped on a set of headphones,
Adjusted a dial or two,
Then introduced his radio show
And the members of his crew,
‘The Horror Tales of the Greats’ he read
Each week to the folk in town,
Just as the Moon was coming up
With the sun then truly down.
And the folk had huddled round speakers
To hear, in a thousand homes,
The tales of Edgar Allan Poe
In the speaker’s crackling tones,
And an eerie mist fell over the town
If they chanced to look outside,
As the ghosts of horror stories past
Rose up from the place they died.
Each tone was sent with a shiver
From the night’s Plutonian shore,
Just as that stately bird of old
Had repeated, ‘Nevermore!’
While the cats had yowled in the alleyways
When he read a tale of sin,
Of walling up the corpse of his wife
When the Black Cat did him in.
The Fall of the House of Usher,
The Masque of the Red Death,
The tales built up in the atmosphere
And made them short of breath,
The Cask of Amontillado,
The Pendulum and the Pit,
Whatever the horror, and most intense
There was always more of it.
The stars that shone in the evening sky
Had gone, though the sky was clear
As the Moon had dropped down, over a hill
While the airwaves dripped with fear,
And the walls back there, in the studio
Were seeming to seep a flood,
As the speaker droned in the microphone
The studio filled with blood.
And suddenly then, a different voice
Was heard all over the town,
Rattling through their radio’s
And shouting the reader down.
‘Shutter your windows and lock your doors
Put children under the bed,
Hide yourselves right under the stairs
Or you may well end up dead!’
‘The very air that you breathe has been
Long saturated with dread,
Has filled your lungs with the ripe unclean
That came from somebody’s head.
The ghostly voice on your radio
That has whispered blood and gore,
Will drown tonight in the studio
So there won’t be any more.’
And right behind that terrible voice
There was choking sounds and screams,
Enough to curdle the very blood
And to give them nightmare dreams,
Then after a long, chilled silence of
The type that terror sates,
A voice said, ‘that was the final of
The Horror Tales of the Greats.’
David Lewis Paget
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 1:35 AM UTC
Can we think old thoughts as thought by earlier readers,
without walling a mind off from all we know,
which Hobbes had no way of learning,
though? No.
We need this knack of we being, a you and a me, seeing
an I, in a time long ago.
Egalitarian sortings of men, arrogation worth,
a-dam, novus knower,
acknowledge me your equal? Dare ye, I may be a fool.
Levelers were around, in Hobbes's town, taking time
to bring the highest minded down,
not to lift the baser sort up.
-- none the less, lime the branch,
-- by chance a bird may bring a word, watch
we heard, the deceived received a reprieve,
we've found the edge stitched in
second thoughts and other wise guesses as good,
good enough
to keep life as we have agreed, conserving
the power in the
word - life as in -- we live, not me without you or we
without all the otherwise functionaries,
maintaining the planet and aching
to settle down to day and night,
just right.
Balance in being part of it all,
restored,
for a second there, didjafeel it?
Nov 1, 2020
Nov 1, 2020 at 6:17 PM UTC
Does He Still Deny A Climate Change?
(asked by the least political of observers)
Is he denying still,
Or is he stalling, stone(y)walling
Wailing about other things,
Like Mexicans and walls while slinging
Maddening, outrageous barbs
About the so-called loss of jobs
To South Korea while a North Korean
TV lady sobs with joy
About a bomb to be employed
(You all know which I mean)
That starts a chain
That takes out half a planet.
Does he still encourage fossil fuel production
Leading in the wrong direction?
Does he not see rising seas
And floods and famines and disease
Around and as potential?
Heats and droughts and quakes to come?
Or does he see the states as humming?
Self-deception quintessential:
Lies.
Who can call it otherwise?
What is a lie?
And how does one get by with lying
And denying, falsifying, flying
In the face of truth
As often as he tries – no, does.
With head, mind, pen, hand buzzing
I shall stop! But you, my friend
May make a noise, examine cause, while empathizing
Till an end.
This being written off the cuff,
Now it is time to send this off
Into the world of cyber.
Does He Still Deny A Climate Change 9.3.2017
Our Times, Our Culture II;
Arlene Corwin
Sep 3, 2017
Sep 3, 2017 at 3:02 PM UTC
I walk to nowhere
in particular;
walking through my mind to my soul.
I find darkened, thorny paths
used by demons
and bright, soft paths
used by angels.
-
But I take none.
-
I forge my own path through
thorns
and
meadows
creating a newer journey
that none have seen
to an end that I could never
believe.
~Except~
-
I made it there.
-
To an end with crystal waterfalls
running to a see through pond.
No dirt but gems, winking at the sky.
Surrounded by benches of willing trees
and boulders
waiting for a climb.
Roses dancing through the grasses,
fallen petals form the road
thorny stems weaving protection,
walling in my peace.
If you find me then you will see
me sitting in the shade
or swimming in the water
or climbing on my friends.
-
Here.
-
You will find me
all alone
in the place
I want to be.
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 10:32 AM UTC
I hope that I can be
an oaken door
standing wide open
the wind rushing inside
causes the shutters to clap
against the brick walling
and sometime people will leave
and their absence is cold
but maybe someone else
will come in
bringing even more
than the previous resident
and my curtains will be open
so that I may see all outside of me
and so they might
see all that is inside of me
all I can ever hope to be
is open
Feb 14, 2013
Feb 14, 2013 at 11:17 AM UTC
Just bland insipid opaque walling
uninspiring without toned definitions
soft spongy frothy carrying anemic lustre
layers easily bruised and prone to blemishes and sagging
glassed visors in various hues incisively ablaze with wants
and inside its not much different from external
furnishings spare and mostly structurally unsound
temperamental ambiance cold-cool yet warm to touch
craving notoriety and attention, loudly challenging in compensation
as foundations are inherently weak yet stands in malleable grandiosity
adverse to too much heat yet resplendent in enough sunshine
vacuous and airy with amplified audio and echoing facilities
though content and range always lacking in real truth substance
Bungalows short of a brick, built on mud, foundation not strong
Readily prone to quakes, husky, hollow, flaky, generally unsound
homogenized, common, unsubstantiated and extremely deceiving
Never good investments, these properties will rob you and ruin you
Oct 26, 2019
Oct 26, 2019 at 11:07 AM UTC
Like the tumble trembling from a heap of crates,
As the ocean flows up and down in waves,
Sadness seems to be my solid state,
It's been a hard drive trying to get to a different place,
If I don't move I'll be diseased,
I'm sick of walling in misery,
Peace, love, joy, they're calling me,
Melt this stony flesh before I freeze,
Unlock these chains for you have the keys or did you already give them to me?
Oct 25, 2021
Oct 25, 2021 at 9:47 AM UTC
1. I have called you the the best, the worst, and it’s strange now I call you nothing.
2 Being reduced to echoes of nostalgia forces me to stitch up the last five years and all the while looking at my Frankenstein creation, I always long to go back.
3. As if this graveyard trembles inside distant fogs that old friends and family cannot bring themselves to mourn over.
4. They call my soul a lake of toxicity. Not once have they asked how I manage to swim through the current of life, but instead look away as the drowning begins.
5. I tried creating my own vortex, but finding myself at the end of a wormhole with no idea how I got here yet alone return to the person before every bad choice, flawed reaction, and bottles tsunami inside of me.
6. Tactless comments, a thoughtless act, a reactive tongue; each transgression building stone by stone until I created this sentinel walling myself with an invisible shield so nobody can come close to me.
7. There’s no winning this war. The battles have always witnessed a type of loss, bloodshed or not.
8. If we touch again whose the reaching hand? Nobody. There’s no oneness without wholeness. And this fortress remains guarded, empty.
9. I cannot keep counting these days anymore. I am a prisoner against the bedroom window. The sepia tones of streetlights taunt me, and I’d rather speak to ghosts than answer the phone these days.
10. We knew how this would end. The white room will only cast my shadow. I don’t know where I will drift from here.
Jul 24, 2020
Jul 24, 2020 at 7:27 PM UTC
Where, pray tell, are we now?
How far have we progressed?
Have we covered our ears so we can't
Hear the cries of the dispossessed?
Have pages been ripped out of history books
So that the people cannot see
The struggles that many undertook
To help to set all people free?
A nation "indivisible,
With liberty and justice for all"
Can benefit at times from a self-
Evaluative overhaul,
Or maybe from a look in the mirror
To see whether the image displayed
Truly represents the picture
Of freedom meant to be conveyed.
Through irreconcilable differences,
Have we now become divorced
From hopeful ideals that early on
The shapers of our nation endorsed?
Are we sincerely looking within
Our hearts to make a "more perfect" nation,
Or are we more consumed with drawing
Attention to the standing ovation?
Are we shutting the door to the soul
Of America and walling out
The power and strength that forms the basis
Of what this country is all about?
Let us not be blindsided
By rogue forces that hope to succeed
In weakening what makes us strong,
Only to relish watching us bleed.
-by Bob B (6-16-18)
Jun 16, 2018
Jun 16, 2018 at 3:11 PM UTC
Upon the Day He made the way.
***** a wall!" to the masses call.
That was the aim that day.
How much more, a Country like a *****
Denuclearization!?
No nuclearization?
Oh! There is no reconciliation!
Just a Nuclear Wall one day.
Wall to the South of us,
Now to the North...
Dening Allies to the East,
Perhaps Northeast, Gulf...
Northwest!
Are we confused yet
Or
Don't you see...
The Insane One is Walling up
You
&
Me!
Soon it's the Internet, media, movies.
"Are you a Phundamentalist Khristian?"
Or
"I'll have ya hangin' by or nearest trees!"
Breathe-Stand
This isn't who we are.
Breathe-Stand and GO!
We can't allow this to go this far.
Jun 12, 2018
Jun 12, 2018 at 5:31 PM UTC