"whelm" poems
ON TURNING ONE DOWN WITH THE PLOUGH, IN APRIL, 1786
Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flow’r,
Thou’s met me in an evil hour;
For I maun crush amang the stoure
Thy slender stem:
To spare thee now is past my pow’r,
Thou bonie gem.
Alas! it’s no thy neebor sweet,
The bonie lark, companion meet,
Bending thee ‘mang the dewy weet,
Wi’ spreckled breast!
When upward-springing, blithe, to greet
The purpling east.
Cauld blew the bitter-biting north
Upon thy early, humble birth;
Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth
Amid the storm,
Scarce reared above the parent-earth
Thy tender form.
The flaunting flow’rs our gardens yield,
High shelt’ring woods and wa’s maun shield;
But thou, beneath the random bield
O’ clod or stane,
Adorns the histie stibble-field,
Unseen, alane.
There, in thy scanty mantle clad,
Thy snawy ***** sunward spread,
Thou lifts thy unassuming head
In humble guise;
But now the share uptears thy bed,
And low thou lies!
Such is the fate of artless Maid,
Sweet flow’ret of the rural shade!
By love’s simplicity betrayed,
And guileless trust,
Till she, like thee, all soiled, is laid
Low i’ the dust.
Such is the fate of simple Bard,
On Life’s rough ocean luckless starred!
Unskilful he to note the card
Of prudent lore,
Till billows rage, and gales blow hard,
And whelm him o’er!
Such fate to suffering worth is giv’n,
Who long with wants and woes has striv’n,
By human pride or cunning driv’n
To mis’ry’s brink,
Till wrenched of ev’ry stay but Heav’n,
He, ruined, sink!
Ev’n thou who mourn’st the Daisy’s fate,
That fate is thine -no distant date;
Stern Ruin’s ploughshare drives, elate,
Full on thy bloom,
Till crushed beneath the furrow’s weight,
Shall be thy doom!
4.3k
It is raining, today.
It's raining cats and dogs.
And in this rain they reconcile,
The greatest lovers
The soil and the skies.
Earth blushes while the sky gently bathes it in love
The first rains are enough for confessing
The first breeze enough for the nod
It's raining heavily
And the skies are full of lightning
There is thunder and patter
And two hearts with great love for the latter
And wild they are
loud they are
carefree they are
They bring peace to each other
Even be the temporary stop to wars during their brief meets
They bring joy to the farmers And peacocks welcome their date dancing to rain beats
And now the rain lashes against my window
As if to ask me if it was time for it to go
In such whelm and restlessness and helplessness
Not wanting to leave
It says to Earth
'Oh dear, peacefully you sleep
If I stay for longer than this
My life giving nature will become poisonous
Your heart will weep'
Then rain showers tears against the Earth
And with resilience, escapes
Before the morning comes and before it's lover awakes
But even after the pours have gone, the Earth is left with its heavenly smell
And the coolness calm enough
And at the beauty of he Earth
From far away the watchful eyes of the skies throw a contented pinkish-orange smile
Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 4:54 AM UTC
.
**•not all
of us were born
with the gift of health
•not all were born into a
bassinet fashioned out of
gold•but all of us here, be-
stowed with a treasure tro-
ve of literary wealth•an e-
ndowment to last a life-
time, that never gets
old•one must
take it
and s-
oar to
great-
er hei-
ghts..•
...ones
should
never...
forsake
such a
boon •
let the
...black-
ness of
our ink
coat......
the em-
ptiest of
nights •
let the p-
ermanen-
ce in our
words over-
whelm...
the**
finiteness
of the
silver spoon•
.
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 11:27 AM UTC
No place for roleplay in this
illumined shrine of sanctified
skin and porcelain
where the most literal of lovers
whelm in the stainless steel
hot spring's silver stream
where the smoke screen of clothing
clashes with the steam cloud
rising like ironic bread
in Eden's kitchen
where a woman turns around
wrings and whips her satin
slope of hair around a shoulder
leaving to her man ideas
and a bar of soap that slithers
effortlessly in his palm
like a melted deck of cards
where a bubbled corner
is embedded in the small of her back
elevated from the tailbone
to the neck and lowered like the zipper
of the dress he parted not so long ago
where a jolt of urgency
accelerates an exercise in
the ski of soap around the junction
of the hips and outer buttocks
and a segue silently approved
by her arms hoisted to attend
to hair thought to be already
washed and conditioned
where the soap is shared by
both hands on the scaling of
her sudded sternum
presaging an unseen demand
from the beacons of progression
swelling in the wet heat
where a hand of soap and
hand of slide verifies the demand
of hands on her beaded *******
where he answers her swell
with his stiffness in the final feel
of mystery before a soft shift of
arms approximates a plea
for a frontal rinse
where hands return to ******
crowned chest sparking the advent
of eye contact all the while
where his ****** intensifies
in proportion to the eyes closed
in anticipation of their saturated mouths'
magnetic duet
where saliva and the cooling water mix
on their cameos of tongues slipping
through their lips in the midst of the mist
and where their towels hang in
a forgotten heap while he takes her
dripping body in his arms and
carries her to where the roleplay
will have to wait after all
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 12:35 PM UTC
Obscurest night involv'd the sky,
Th' Atlantic billows roar'd,
When such a destin'd wretch as I,
Wash'd headlong from on board,
Of friends, of hope, of all bereft,
His floating home for ever left.
No braver chief could Albion boast
Than he with whom he went,
Nor ever ship left Albion's coast,
With warmer wishes sent.
He lov'd them both, but both in vain,
Nor him beheld, nor her again.
Not long beneath the whelming brine,
Expert to swim, he lay;
Nor soon he felt his strength decline,
Or courage die away;
But wag'd with death a lasting strife,
Supported by despair of life.
He shouted: nor his friends had fail'd
To check the vessel's course,
But so the furious blast prevail'd,
That, pitiless perforce,
They left their outcast mate behind,
And scudded still before the wind.
Some succour yet they could afford;
And, such as storms allow,
The cask, the coop, the floated cord,
Delay'd not to bestow.
But he (they knew) nor ship, nor shore,
Whate'er they gave, should visit more.
Nor, cruel as it seem'd, could he
Their haste himself condemn,
Aware that flight, in such a sea,
Alone could rescue them;
Yet bitter felt it still to die
Deserted, and his friends so nigh.
He long survives, who lives an hour
In ocean, self-upheld;
And so long he, with unspent pow'r,
His destiny repell'd;
And ever, as the minutes flew,
Entreated help, or cried--Adieu!
At length, his transient respite past,
His comrades, who before
Had heard his voice in ev'ry blast,
Could catch the sound no more.
For then, by toil subdued, he drank
The stifling wave, and then he sank.
No poet wept him: but the page
Of narrative sincere;
Is wet with Anson's tear.
And tears by bards or heroes shed
Alike immortalize the dead.
I therefore purpose not, or dream,
Descanting on his fate,
To give the melancholy theme
A more enduring date:
But misery still delights to trace
No voice divine the storm allay'd,
No light propitious shone;
When, snatch'd from all effectual aid,
We perish'd, each alone:
But I beneath a rougher sea,
And whelm'd in deeper gulfs than he.
2.1k
watching for air a mad thing of static to do
unwashed i hold it all foreign my perspectives clothed as the enemy
an agreed muscle of tension with pockets fracked into my hands
i look out the window wide agape guidance invasive drills of heat the giving sunlight ; punishing,
a tree, the grieving buildings
the whinging of cicadas
and here i am watching for air
one point for the weather
one point for the view
one big point for my ****** condition
one point for the passers by and their galling dramedies
and there it is ; the wiry plan that's built
from one small tickle of wild thought
formed long ago
trickling to the current day
some whipped wit of poisoned psychology
fed to the inbreed (welcome you panting imp)
decades of saved up fatty layers
a deed of habitual sediment
retching until the tide laps become still
a cured and congealed gladness
marbled, a butcher would say
i am full and hearted and heated and padded senseless
turned under a heel with my wastrel history
i’ve accomplished this a stifled condition
of poisoned obscenity
seated deep almost fully incapacitated
in my armchair on this chummy day
my leisure clothes greasy sluck against my blemished hide
a packet of cigarettes to my side
rounded upon by sounds of the neighbours affairs
with a gasp of energy i 'skin one off' vigorously
my system trembling with years of hard liquor
borderline to a state of unconscious whelm
retained final prime for ignition
i could manage a spectacle
a blinding flare
a glorious incineration
and the release
of my true oder
i light a match for my cigarette
May 29, 2023
May 29, 2023 at 6:54 PM UTC
Tis done—and shivering in the gale
The bark unfurls her snowy sail;
And whistling o’er the bending mast,
Loud sings on high the fresh’ning blast;
And I must from this land be gone,
Because I cannot love but one.
But could I be what I have been,
And could I see what I have seen—
Could I repose upon the breast
Which once my warmest wishes blest—
I should not seek another zone,
Because I cannot love but one.
’Tis long since I beheld that eye
Which gave me bliss or misery;
And I have striven, but in vain,
Never to think of it again:
For though I fly from Albion,
I still can only love but one.
As some lone bird, without a mate,
My weary heart is desolate;
I look around, and cannot trace
One friendly smile or welcome face,
And ev’n in crowds am still alone,
Because I cannot love but one.
And I will cross the whitening foam,
And I will seek a foreign home;
Till I forget a false fair face,
I ne’er shall find a resting-place;
My own dark thoughts I cannot shun,
But ever love, and love but one.
The poorest, veriest wretch on earth
Still finds some hospitable hearth,
Where Friendship’s or Love’s softer glow
May smile in joy or soothe in woe;
But friend or leman I have none,
Because I cannot love but one.
I go—but wheresoe’er I flee
There’s not an eye will weep for me;
There’s not a kind congenial heart,
Where I can claim the meanest part;
Nor thou, who hast my hopes undone,
Wilt sigh, although I love but one.
To think of every early scene,
Of what we are, and what we’ve been,
Would whelm some softer hearts with woe—
But mine, alas! has stood the blow;
Yet still beats on as it begun,
And never truly loves but one.
And who that dear lov’d one may be,
Is not for ****** eyes to see;
And why that early love was cross’d,
Thou know’st the best, I feel the most;
But few that dwell beneath the sun
Have loved so long, and loved but one.
I’ve tried another’s fetters too,
With charms perchance as fair to view;
And I would fain have loved as well,
But some unconquerable spell
Forbade my bleeding breast to own
A kindred care for aught but one.
’Twould soothe to take one lingering view,
And bless thee in my last adieu;
Yet wish I not those eyes to weep
For him that wanders o’er the deep;
His home, his hope, his youth are gone,
Yet still he loves, and loves but one.
1.6k
I'll be your hades
And you'll be my persephone
I'll love you unconditionally
In a world full of Zeus like mentality.
I Hades left my underworld domain
I rose to the surface after being restrained
And Persephone there in a field of flowers
So lovely was she I watched for hours
Her beauty there was none to compare
I hid as she picked flowers with care
I had to have her then I could not wait
Told my brother Zeus my love was great
We hatched a plan to trap my new love
Opened the earth beneath she fell from above
I rose in my chariot took her into my arms
She frightened told her I would not harm
I took her home with me underground
My horse’s hooves did fly and pound
I gave her jewels and pricely precious stones
Taking her hand begged to share my throne
I wooed her with words from my heart
But her being such a rare work of art
How could she love such a beast as me
Banished from above by the gods decree
Somehow her heart softened toward myself
I gained her love kept it high on a shelf
Married I made love to that alabaster skin
I took her sweet body from way within.
Her lips I did taste as much as I dared
She kissed me back she had come to care
But as happy as I tried to make her be
Her sadness resurfaced she longed to be free
I kept her underground in my palace dome
All the while saddened she wanted to go home
Demeter my sister did beg and cry
Her daughter she wept to see by and by
It broke my heart to see my lady love
Wanting so much to visit above
So I hatched a plan with Zeus my brother
I played a trick so she could love no other
I gave her a ripe pomegranate to eat
A deal I made and did so complete
I would allow her to visit the earthly realm
Even as it broke my heart I fed her whelm
But she could only stay for months of spring
In winter she would come back to her king.
Feb 22, 2020
Feb 22, 2020 at 10:42 PM UTC
Where hast thou floated, in what seas pursu'd
Thy pastime? When wast thou an egg new spawn'd,
Lost in the immensity of ocean's waste?
Roar as they might, the overbearing winds
That rock'd the deep, thy cradle, thou wast safe--
And in thy minikin and embryo state,
Attach'd to the firm leaf of some salt ****
Didst outlive tempests, such as wrung and rack'd
The joints of many a stout and gallant bark,
And whelm'd them in the unexplor'd abyss.
Indebted to no magnet and no chart,
Nor under guidance of the polar fire,
Thou wast a voyager on many coasts,
Grazing at large in meadows submarine,
Where flat Batavia just emerging peeps
Above the brine,--where Caledonia's rocks
Beat back the surge,--and where Hibernia shoots
Her wondrous causeway far into the main.
--Wherever thou hast fed, thou little thought'st,
And I not more, that I should feed on thee.
Peace, therefore, and good health, and much good fish,
To him who sent thee! and success, as oft
As it descends into the billowy gulf,
To the same drag that caught thee!--Fare thee well!
Thy lot thy brethern of the slimy fin
Would envy, could they know that thou wast doom'd
To feed a bard, and to be prais'd in verse.
1.5k
Hello again, heartless friend.
So slyly in the backgrounds blend.
Your veering vanish, vaguely here.
Your gaze of increments - insincere.
Healer of the hearted scars.
Swallower of the heavened stars.
The paths in which we dream and delve.
Allow the doubling ones to twelves.
Slices of the eternal elude.
Movements of monstrous magnitude.
A hesitant dawdle. A lingered delay.
The mountainous sway is steered away.
Hoarded heaps of hourglass bliss.
Outnumbered by wasted nothingness.
With interludes of want, of miss.
To slowly morphed indifference.
The pendulums that abruptly swing.
The burdens they still hope to bring.
The envied earn of Earth's endeavor.
The better late. The better never.
The eerily empty echoed need.
The blossomed tree from planted seed.
The curse of a continuous grief.
The ever stealthy, silent thief.
The cogs, gears, hours and hands.
The burn of beauty, bleak and bland.
The coziest, surrounding choke.
The whelm from the transparent cloak.
The running out. The ever essence.
The grand keeper. The watchful presence.
The potential of the plainest plan.
The currency of the wisest man.
What horrors - hallowed by the tick.
Will sound for both healthy and sick?
Will compose secrets, never told?
Will fumble flame to frigid cold?
The end stays always promptly nigh.
For the intimate, infinite blink of eye.
I fear your wasting, more and more.
The constant count to twenty four.
Unresurrectable and second to none.
Airborne, regardless of having fun.
As retrospective wisdom blinds.
Our youthful hopes and manic minds.
On and on. From time to time.
Song to song and rhyme to rhyme.
Betrayer of all mice and men.
Less of if and more of when.
Mar 26, 2016
Mar 26, 2016 at 6:39 AM UTC
birthed from the roost above the ground
cooing whoooing shuddering sounds of a flock
holding uniting all in its bold thunder
morning doves serenade awakens to day
holding out the clatter the buzz and were
of industrial chimes
my eye hiding in the shadow of night
to remain in the darkness of sleep all knowing
what awaits the losing of peace in morning time
the harsh noise of man made waste
polluting the mind abruptly canceling
the dreams of the divine...
the reach for meaning a vision that sees mystery
hears the sound held in the cooing nature of doves
living life the primeval nature verses man kind
mature maligned by the noise of industry
power and greed to over whelm
the soft strokes of nature to mature
to be to bring forth the glory of day
in natures life of humans and creatures sharing
the morning air waves my eye hidden
in darkness of soul first light glow
to abound in freedom the being reborn
the nature of time to reveal another great mystery
to remain in the darkness once more
to allow nature to dream with me
to set the motion of true love on its ear
to straddle night to day
oh great being that is life let me lay
in your celestial comfort starlight of night
all winds cooler apree vestin Earth
revolves to the east rising into the starlight in day
interrupting this tranquil starry night
the to day of starlight
my eyes piercing and rolling still shuttered
in the time of longing for the peace
that holds my world divine this inner light
and belief that love is a real place
that allows the birthing of joy
a serene moment giving life an up lift
resets the Earth into the starlight of day
to know my being is one in time
with living nature I hide in the darkness
awaiting my faerie tail to swish away
the cobwebs that abound in the night
on the thresh hole of first light a reason
to hold back the noise of man made creation
the serene born from darkness to know the truth
light of living life the joy alive
holding my being in the dream of first light
poetry has captured the uttering within my breast
swelling and rising into the starlight of day
the morning doves cooing bodies shuddering at will
to be heard the first light of day
honored for the love giving hope to surrender...
the old that comes before me the memories of time
starlight life rays that birthed the Earth
all these moments honored
the old comes before the rage of man
its industrial noise to heavy
for the morning light disappears squandered
by greed pushing pulling at the sun
to conform in its man made realm
to mimic creation... gjmars 6/25/15
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 11:10 PM UTC
The sea gulls – who fly in wanton
To the horizon, are a spirits
calling, are sea songs falling
To my mind they falter – as I
Have known such cozen to the sun
That falls each day nor do I see
It rising. My world is weighted,
Under, pass the lining of the quick,
By the mounted cloud which hangs silver
Over the plated night. The owl,
Whose eyes of Janus tails, when wanes
The lids, tied to crescent holey
Whelm of malevolent moon,
Praise over me, with wooly wings,
Is silent as shadow. I may strut or run
But they do come as the shadows will
With cahooting sun, and the blotting
Bald faced moon, chiaroscuro –
The days feign and heaven pales under
The wake of the luna sea.
In darkest daylight
I shamble toward the flat horizon
Where the seabirds fly, till their ends,
I take two-faced my faulty comfort
As I see them, falter, falling, yet never
Do they touch the gloaming ground.
Jan 15, 2013
Jan 15, 2013 at 7:14 PM UTC
The sea gulls— who fly in wanton
To the horizon, are a spirits
calling, are sea songs falling
To my mind they falter— as I
Have known such cozen to the sun
That falls each day nor do I see
It rising. My world is weighted,
Under, pass the lining of the quick,
By the mounted cloud which hangs silver
Over the plated night. The owl,
Whose eyes of Janus tails, when wanes
The lids, tied to crescent holey
Whelm of malevolent moon,
Praise over me, with wooly wings,
Is silent as shadow. I may strut or run
But they do come as the shadows will
With cahooting sun, and the blotting
Bald faced moon, chiaroscuro—
The days feign and heaven pales under
The wake of the luna sea.
In darkest daylight
I shamble toward the flat horizon
Where the seabirds fly, till their ends,
I take two-faced my faulty comfort
As I see them, falter, falling, yet never
Do they touch the gloaming ground.
Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 5:13 PM UTC
The sea gulls— who fly in wanton
To the horizon, are a spirits
calling, are sea songs falling
To my mind they falter— as I
Have known such cozen to the sun
That falls each day nor do I see
It rising. My world is weighted,
Under, pass the lining of the quick,
By the mounted cloud which hangs silver
Over the plated night. The owl,
Whose eyes of Janus tails, when wanes
The lids, tied to crescent holey
Whelm of malevolent moon,
Praise over me, with wooly wings,
Is silent as shadow. I may strut or run
But they do come as the shadows will
With cahooting sun, and the blotting
Bald faced moon, chiaroscuro—
The days feign and heaven pales under
The wake of the luna sea.
In darkest daylight
I shamble toward the flat horizon
Where the seabirds fly, till their ends,
I take two-faced my faulty comfort
As I see them, falter, falling, yet never
Do they touch the gloaming ground.
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 2:11 PM UTC
still swollen:
moon in eye
lips murdered red
with the crimson of
maddeningly furious bites
the crunch of bone
turning in bed - air and moment
stopped and in between
the hounds spread
darkening rumors,
dropping once again are
eyelids from too much
heaviness of unuttered
words, unperformed verbs
seething in between teeth,
cheek pressed onto crumpled
******* from groping in
the dark knowing only its
frail rescue
these tiny fingers still
ache from touching anthropomorphic fires,
the ears still swollen
from distinct susurrations like
o's and h's and their
sweet campaigns
my heart's well engorged
with a whelm of promises
in the morning there
will be i and you,
our love still throbbing
in the loom of it,
as we go on leaving -
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 11:45 PM UTC
the steel on steel clank
of a canal lock gating
is a lonely sound to hear,
and so too your parting words,
though wise, gentle and reassuring,
it is our channel that's closing
and I do whelm - what feels like tears.
Mar 22, 2011
Mar 22, 2011 at 9:06 PM UTC
Who understand me more than myself?
Exactly!!
That's why I never look around for help
Love been scarce every since I was whelped
Into this world when no one cares if you whelm your resistance
Here, there's no value of tradition
No nature of culture
Just individuals
Lack of spirituality
So many different religions, but no one speaks to humankind
...Just their own kind
If it doesn't matter to them they don't mind
If you don't see it how they visualize, then you must be blind
Leave it up to them, they wouldn't even want the rest of us to synchronize
The world run on the fact of us being divided
And it is the innocence in me and you that is being misguided
I was raised to be a menace
But The things I witnessed
Made me wanna change positions
Come to realize
That good intentions can conclude in your non-existence
But don't let me persuade you to resistance
Especially if you're not from the bottom of the hill
If you never had to deal
If you always had cooked meals
Always had crisp bills
To me all the things that seemed so surreal
But I still know how you feel
No one get a break
But coming from where I'm from
We were never fixed in the first place
Only thing free is negativity
Shaped to destruct the streets since elementary
Teachers weren't even supplementary
Everyone who surrounded me was drowning
And if we tried to sniff out a plan we were hounded
They never prevented crimes, they just enforced the law
So we got what we wanted, but we couldn't keep it
They allowed us to do our dirt, in order to sweep it
That's why I'm offended when America fear me
When all I did was play defense
I'm trying to put a end to this disastrous sequence
Someone told me I was too ridiculous
And that I needed to show lenience
I replied
That's the reason why our entire skin tone has been living with grievance
We just need all allegiance
We don't need no alliance
The hell with compliance
Amongst ourselves we must have reliance
Because without everyone's input we will never reach our triumph
Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 6:47 PM UTC
The sea gulls – who fly in wanton
To the horizon, are a spirits
calling, are sea songs falling
To my mind they falter – as I
Have known such cozen to the sun
That falls each day nor do I see
It rising. My world is weighted,
Under, pass the lining of the quick,
By the mounted cloud which hangs silver
Over the plated night. The owl,
Whose eyes of Janus tails, when wanes
The lids, tied to crescent holey
Whelm of malevolent moon,
Praise over me, with wooly wings,
Is silent as shadow. I may strut or run
But they do come as the shadows will
With cahooting sun, and the blotting
Bald faced moon, chiaroscuro –
The days feign and heaven pales under
The wake of the luna sea.
In darkest daylight
I shamble toward the flat horizon
Where the seabirds fly, till their ends,
I take two-faced my faulty comfort
As I see them, falter, falling, yet never
Do they touch the gloaming ground.
Jun 1, 2012
Jun 1, 2012 at 7:58 PM UTC
Whence did thou enter my heart
my soul
devour me with thy passion
it doth whelm me
in somewhat of
a musical fashion
a classicals softness
sings in my ears
fused with rock and roll
tis what I hear
how is it that thou dost play
such song
foriegn to my time
hast thou been forward
to another asterism
to another life
whence did thou enter my heart
milleniums ago
or those yet to see
perhaps there twasnt a time
but always were
Nov 15, 2009
Nov 15, 2009 at 10:31 AM UTC
The sea gulls— who fly in wanton
To the horizon, are a spirits
Calling, are sea songs falling
To my mind they falter— as I
Have known such cozen to the sun
That falls each day nor do I see
It rising. My world is weighted,
Under, pass the lining of the quick,
By the mounted cloud which hangs silver
Over the plated night. The owl,
Whose eyes of Janus tails, when wanes
The lids, tied to crescent holey
Whelm of malevolent moon,
Praise over me, with wooly wings,
Is silent as shadow. I may strut or run
But they do come as the shadows will
With cahooting sun, and the blotting
Bald faced moon, chiaroscuro—
The days feign and heaven pales under
The wake of the luna sea.
In darkest daylight
I shamble toward the flat horizon
Where the seabirds fly, till their ends,
I take two-faced my faulty comfort
As I see them, falter, falling, yet never
Do they touch the gloaming ground.
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 11:02 PM UTC
The sea gulls— who fly in wanton
To the horizon, are a spirits
calling, are sea songs falling
To my mind they falter— as I
Have known such cozen to the sun
That falls each day nor do I see
It rising. My world is weighted,
Under, pass the lining of the quick,
By the mounted cloud which hangs silver
Over the plated night. The owl,
Whose eyes of Janus tails, when wanes
The lids, tied to crescent holey
Whelm of malevolent moon,
Praise over me, with wooly wings,
Is silent as shadow. I may strut or run
But they do come as the shadows will
With cahooting sun, and the blotting
Bald faced moon, chiaroscuro—
The days feign and heaven pales under
The wake of the luna sea.
In darkest daylight
I shamble toward the flat horizon
Where the seabirds fly, till their ends,
I take two-faced my faulty comfort
As I see them, falter, falling, yet never
Do they touch the gloaming ground.
Sep 22, 2012
Sep 22, 2012 at 12:47 PM UTC
The sea gulls— who fly in wanton
To the horizon, are a spirits
calling, are sea songs falling
To my mind they falter— as I
Have known such cozen to the sun
That falls each day nor do I see
It rising. My world is weighted,
Under, pass the lining of the quick,
By the mounted cloud which hangs silver
Over the plated night. The owl,
Whose eyes of Janus tails, when wanes
The lids, tied to crescent holey
Whelm of malevolent moon,
Praise over me, with wooly wings,
Is silent as shadow. I may strut or run
But they do come as the shadows will
With cahooting sun, and the blotting
Bald faced moon, chiaroscuro—
The days feign and heaven pales under
The wake of the luna sea.
In darkest daylight
I shamble toward the flat horizon
Where the seabirds fly, till their ends,
I take two-faced my faulty comfort
As I see them, falter, falling, yet never
Do they touch the gloaming ground.
Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 6:52 PM UTC
The sea gulls— who fly in wanton
To the horizon, are a spirits
calling, are sea songs falling
To my mind they falter— as I
Have known such cozen to the sun
That falls each day nor do I see
It rising. My world is weighted,
Under, pass the lining of the quick,
By the mounted cloud which hangs silver
Over the plated night. The owl,
Whose eyes of Janus tails, when wanes
The lids, tied to crescent holey
Whelm of malevolent moon,
Praise over me, with wooly wings,
Is silent as shadow. I may strut or run
But they do come as the shadows will
With cahooting sun, and the blotting
Bald faced moon, chiaroscuro—
The days feign and heaven pales under
The wake of the luna sea.
In darkest daylight
I shamble toward the flat horizon
Where the seabirds fly, till their ends,
I take two-faced my faulty comfort
As I see them, falter, falling, yet never
Do they touch the gloaming ground.
Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 5:42 PM UTC
Oh Blackened night that over throws
the clutched snare of after math
Drawing into its prism of gory shade
the hidden phantom that lingers deep
I've heard it's wail upon empty nights
when silence holds the silent breath
and here within its structure and rudiments
It calls out your name.
But Christ, there is no running
no light to grasp, no breath to capture
for it seizes upon the whelm and invades
forever holding to its ultimate passion
I have always known it, feared its grasp
ran every avenue I thought it's presence was
Till here in the room ,upon my bed it finds me
Alone, as well we both knew it would be.
I cannot fight, for there is no form
I cant escape it, for its wherever I roam
So now before I cry and instantly acknowledge
The reason and purpose for its visit here.
While you all out there sleep in your peace
while dreams of the morrow, freshens your mind
keep in thought always this consistent fellow
That awaits you too, In your silent hour.
The Ghost of an unforgiving Love.
Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 22, 2011
Mar 22, 2011 at 1:29 PM UTC
We have now become this bleached wall exposed
to graffiti; you and I, lost in a vector dwindling somewhere
between flight and ground-woven footing.
Like only such delicate secret opens to tongued up
and thighed upon space – only nightscapes the air dares elope with,
but isn’t that what absence hands over, a roughed up winding
moonlight suspended in crunched ether, or something else
that bade sibilance of speech rammed in preterit?
A blossoming descends in Maytime, besmirched with dreams
collapsing on obelisks. The moment in which I thought you
to be devouring space, nurturing a whelm of heat squalled and
intent, fanning a spleen of intimation, riveting a conflagration.
Else it was before, sulking in the finagling quiet: truths hauled
out and carved to foists,
much room it was to differ a voice and fragment message,
staring at this world the first time and the last – all at once
in that rampaging instance, the rest of the world pinned down
before me.
Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 12:25 PM UTC