"whelmed" poems
I stood there.
Staring.
A snow-capped peak stared back.
I became exceedingly captivated.
Captivated by the thought that he and I existed;
Existed now.
Existed here.
Existed together.
I became a shell.
A shell filled with explosive joy.
And I could no longer become underwhelmed.
Nor could I become whelmed.
I lived.
I will never believe in myself more,
Never trust in Creation more,
Never be enveloped in the stillness more
Than I did in that moment.
Glimpsing that skyline.
Staring down a mountain.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 5:26 PM UTC
synergy in the mist
of creations' breath...
multitudes croaking so loudly
drowning in eventide dew,
all the wind's timbre
is hushed;
overcome
by earth’s
communing symphony,
creations’ living
pulsing thrum..
alone in a crowd
proclaiming
the glory of now...
whelmed,
and i wishing
i were a frog,
and unalone
in the throng
maybe evolution
as this—
is reversing...
ouroboros
i need to search
for an intimate kiss
metamorphosis,
another incarnation
that will turn me
back into a frog—
a speck of stardust
in a sky full of stars
seems better than
feeling like ashes
a burned out candle
muted
by the gypsy choir
*the call of the wild
sung in the wind*
wild is the wind © march 2016
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 2:16 PM UTC
Though life should come
With all its marshalled honours, trump and drum,
To proffer you the captaincy of some
Resounding exploit, that shall fill
Man’s pulses with commemorative thrill,
And be a banner to far battle days
For truths unrisen upon untrod ways,
What would your answer be,
O heart once brave?
Seek otherwhere; for me,
I watch beside a grave.
Though to some shining festival of thought
The sages call you from steep citadel
Of bastioned argument, whose rampart gained
Yields the pure vision passionately sought,
In dreams known well,
But never yet in wakefulness attained,
How should you answer to their summons, save:
I watch beside a grave?
Though Beauty, from her fane within the soul
Of fire-tongued seers descending,
Or from the dream-lit temples of the past
With feet immortal wending,
Illuminate grief’s antre swart and vast
With half-veiled face that promises the whole
To him who holds her fast,
What answer could you give?
Sight of one face I crave,
One only while I live;
Woo elsewhere; for I watch beside a grave.
Though love of the one heart that loves you best,
A storm-tossed messenger,
Should beat its wings for shelter in your breast,
Where clung its last year’s nest,
The nest you built together and made fast
Lest envious winds should stir,
And winged each delicate thought to minister
With sweetness far-amassed
To the young dreams within—
What answer could it win?
The nest was whelmed in sorrow’s rising wave,
Nor could I reach one drowning dream to save;
I watch beside a grave.
3.8k
Today I bought a square plate
it's not for me, but for an enemy
that I could do worse things to, if I was a less noble person
as the things they've done I will not speak.
The plate is porcelain and quite finely made
elegant and excellently finished for how not so pricey it was
hints of history seems to hide in it's shell--
as seams are weaved into
what has probably lived a long and unused existence
this handcrafted masterpiece.
Separately painted by some fancy artist
to whom I do not recognize the name of,
although it is said he may have done something wrought with his ear
or did this man's uncle make this plate, oh well, I am unsure.
It is these very details to why,
I am now in possession of this piece of the past
that will be priceless to those who know more craftsmanship,
at least more knowledgeable than the man who sold it to me.
From the gleaming in your eyes
I can tell this plate may even mean a great deal to you
is this true my good friend?
oh well, I guess I can give the plate to you
instead of the devil I spoke of before.
*As I handed my prize to them
it began to feel heavier than any ordinary plate should,
gravity granted the greatest reprise I've ever sought
as the demon's face whelmed with depression
and mine satisfaction--
for being such a convincing storyteller.
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 5:33 AM UTC
Possibility is the killer
Its the force that will destroy me
My worst enemy
Shes looking right at me
I see it and I believe it
and it makes sense
Logical in these weary eyes
Could I step out and concur this world
The answer is definite
The truth; solitary I am bound
Greatness lies within these eyes
Doubt in every mirror
Do it tonight
Conquer this decimate land
But these weary eyes see all angles
Widening and constricting
Disturbing my perceptions
I'll close these eyes
Just for tonight
Over whelmed with the possibility
Oct 10, 2011
Oct 10, 2011 at 12:36 AM UTC
i am over without the easy|
sometimes a cup without a saucer|
often shoes without socks|
but mostly i am legs running and arms whirling
in a hurry to escape the day|
in a rush to fill my head with bouncy thoughts|
in a flurry of wishing flat words into fantastic stories|
of turning grey into cerulean, and rust into claret
i am questions with more than one answer|
questions which play on my mind|
answers which go around and around|
like petals of eccentricity whelmed by an eddy|
and trying to escape the day in a hurry
Oct 14, 2021
Oct 14, 2021 at 6:46 PM UTC
Wow being sober for such a short time...
and theres so much I want to do and want to try....
and theres no way anyone can change my reasoning to why...
I want to help others who are worse off....or help animals who get abandoned by their owners and are dumped off...
I want to find a job that is world changing..
to be of service and start alittle piece of the mending...
But I know I can only take small steps and not get over whelmed or it will all fall apart...just take my time and enjoy life and all it has to offer and learn to enjoy things like beautiful art....
its scary but fun ....just seems like life has had to restart.
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 12:24 AM UTC
Born with a better life
Formed with a rugged line
Caught in a muddy mind
Inner war in full force
Empty shores
Grains are coarse
Brain is worn from the thought
Of the cause
And the flaws
In the bottled up troubled times...
Keep that light in sight though
Eyes open wide,
So you can brave the flow so
You can find all the times
To unwind
Organise
And refine
How you fight Home Made choke holds
Feels like I'm courting
A black hole I'm forming
Distorting rewarding
Thoughts formed flip to morbid
'It's just a bad day not a bad life'
Ever had a day that lasts a life time?
Guess I'll be right in the mourning
What sort of a mess is this
Formed full of emptiness
Scorn for my premises
Thinner walls
Creaking floors
Feeling worn
Sleeping more
Brain is worn from the thought
Of the cause
And the flaws
I have bottled in hesitance
Keep that light in sight though
Eyes open wide,
So you can brave the flow so
You can find all the times
To unwind
Organise
And refine
How you fight Home Made choke holds
Start with absorbing
The wellness from talking
Succoring the morbid
Thoughts formed flip to glory
'This is a good day not a bad life'
Ever want a day to last a life time?
Might just be right in the morning
Oct 29, 2022
Oct 29, 2022 at 8:19 AM UTC
A sinful habit is the result of negative actions in repetition.... negative actions are the result of trying to gain control because of negative emotions… negative emotions are the result of negative thoughts and negative thoughts are the result of not feeling accepted and not feeling accepted is a result of having more faith in what other humans think of you instead of what God thinks of you. Sin starts with a thought and it starts with acceptance and we all need acceptance. When we reject the acceptance of God we chose to be accepted by the world. The world’s acceptance is money, power and beauty and guess what it never lasts …High debt…greediness, divorce rates, anxiety, narcissism, pride, jealousy, eating disorders, depression…infidelity…drug abuse..alcoholism..violence …suicides ****** perversions…the quest for materials…..even religion being used for personal happiness….are all the results of choosing to be accepted by the world whose ruler is satan. It’s never ending and we always need more! In this model we invite the invitation for negative thoughts , which produce negative emotions that create fear and confusion.. …. ….Hence these sinful actions become our habits and then our habits become our identities……. When enough peoples immoral actions become their identities it then becomes apart of our culture which then becomes the law…which makes sin one of our rights making sin the norm………. Our nation’s current atrocities are reflections of our aggregate sins and compromises manifested as normal. The devil uses these deceptions to rob your life and always lets you think the blame is on others. My brothers and sisters make no mistake no one can avoid sin. We all sin and were condemned to death and that is why Christ died to forgive you of what we could not avoid. But make no mistake sin starts in the heart and if left unchecked leads to action. Sinful action is worse than sin that stays in the heart because sin in action hurts others. Don’t be over whelmed by this just pay attention to your actions and you may find sin being justified and trust me sin always leaves a paper trail which means we can investigate them through God’s Words and strive to repent of our inevitable sins before they hit reality. Hence we can be forgiven without our sins further hurting others within our world…if enough people change the world changes…It’s easy to point fingers but it’s not easy to change but it all starts with Acceptance…where do you get acceptance? You might be rejected by the world but Jesus Accepts you…… just follow the paper trail……
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 1:04 PM UTC
Tree, Old Tree of the Triple Crook
And the rope of the Black Election,
'Tis the faith of the Fool that a race you rule
Can never achieve perfection:
So 'It's O, for the time of the new Sublime
And the better than human way,
When the Rat (poor beast) shall come to his own
And the Wolf shall have his day!'
For Tree, Old Tree of the Triple Beam
And the power of provocation,
You have cockered the Brute with your dreadful fruit
Till your fruit is mere stupration:
And 'It's how should we rise to be pure and wise,
And how can we choose but fall,
So long as the Hangman makes us dread,
And the Noose floats free for all?'
So Tree, Old Tree of the Triple Coign
And the trick there's no recalling,
They will haggle and hew till they hack you through
And at last they lay you sprawling:
When 'Hey! for the hour of the race in flower
And the long good-bye to sin!'
And for the lack the fires of Hell gone out
Of the fuel to keep them in!'
But Tree, Old Tree of the Triple Bough
And the ghastly Dreams that tend you,
Your growth began with the life of Man,
And only his death can end you.
They may tug in line at your hempen twine,
They may flourish with axe and saw;
But your taproot drinks of the Sacred Springs
In the living rock of Law.
And Tree, Old Tree of the Triple Fork,
When the spent sun reels and blunders
Down a welkin lit with the flare of the Pit
As it seethes in spate and thunders,
Stern on the glare of the tortured air
Your lines august shall gloom,
And your master-beam be the last thing whelmed
In the ruining roar of Doom.
1.5k
I don’t mind being under the shoe;
If it means I don’t have to step on you.
I don’t mind being over-whelmed;
if it’s all too much for you.
I’d be nothing; if it wasn't for you!
Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 4:45 PM UTC
weak-kneed,
heavy-eyed,
stumbling
I push through the thicket
to the patch of land
where the air is thick
with burnt pine and turmeric
to where the moon sets
spry on the water
I take my legs
and offer them to the strait
my plunge
into the euripus
what use are they
if not to walk
to the nape of hope's neck?
well, then
it is this
I am whelmed
carried off by the cold swell
of adam's ale
then, somewhere
along the river
and its rushing stupor
I hear singing
a voice that rings like clinkstone
and the ecclesiast begins to pull me
a quiet accompaniment
careful quiet, in the night –
such is thievery
subtle, without much grief
take me
for whatever gold I am
whatever glimmer that I could give
burnished of whatever sin
Jun 8, 2018
Jun 8, 2018 at 12:07 PM UTC
Your wicked tongue awoke
Between crooked teeth
And a scarred smile
An accent at the boom
Of your voice; could shatter
Cities of marble to sand
The plague you've sent
As we prayed for an end
And you took your throne
But this is love, isn't it?
You whispered to us all
Through an open palm
This was all there is
And all that ever will be
You are the omega
You've slayed and conquered
But like caped crusaders fallen
You were mortal all along
And I realize that now
Whelmed through life's storm
You, too, never knew love
May 4, 2018
May 4, 2018 at 4:45 PM UTC
I didn't realize or tell that I was ill,
just a little over whelmed,
Your handsomeness formed by hopes and grief,
Brought your complexion a lighten grace,
I knew this couldn't be the final of our story,
The story of my dreams,
But even sleeping I was stunned,
I needed a snap of reality,
Your face,
The delicate features physically inches away from mine and yours,
Pure porcelain aspects,
heartwarming,
petrified,
Difficult to memorize your physique, presents
Unable to refer back to a black and white film,
When I saw your lifeless, sadden, face I can only think,
That glance lifting up with clarity and joy,
We cling and griped onto each other for the limited time
that was given in the dream,
You returned once again,
The more I saw you, repeated intentionally,
I couldn't resist and lean against your touch,
without thinking nothing more then the happiness,
Not worried it would lessen nor fade,
Without thinking I was still alive and beating,
I needed to wake up once more,
and see the light,
to wake up to you,
again.
Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 9:14 PM UTC
its up to you on how it unfolds
simple to taste complex to face
yet you escape with out a trace
making your own way through mountain trails
skins pale breads stale hit another rail
will they even read your mail
was it just a tall tale
are you really west coast bound
will your talents be noticed
will you be over whelmed by emotions
is it real or truly fake
possible the biggest mistake was
not to chase the dream
© Try
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 2:51 PM UTC
(tripping gracefully over her gory visage,
she bashfully, covertly unveils her
untruthful veracity,
invisible in all things seen)
her phantom form surrounds me and
slides her arm between my lips, into my mouth
finger - after - finger;
i slowly swallow her whole
(she leaves me no other choice)
the quick fog forming in my eyes
threatens to spill
(i think it does)
i choke, my teeth grazing her entangled marble limbs.
my once untarnished tower of a neck
now a blemished python, bruised by suffocation
finger-painting, hand-print impressionism in
russian red and prussian blue and palatinate purple
my angry lungs drink her in
the space between my thoughts and veins becomes considerably smaller.
(i am crowded,
i am
o
ver
whelmed.)
exhausted, i gasp for words
but those too have left me a while ago,
when her impact carved that permanent indent on my chest:
i can never rest.
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 8:13 PM UTC
I was struggling,
to feel
inspired - for so long
I was unable to form words;
coherent sentences
Then,
suddenly,
I became over-whelmed with incessant emotions
of albeit incoherent ramblings
The cause,
why of course -
it can only be
attraction
I'm too afraid to call it love
Torn, conflicted
Split in two
One half,
Awed by talent,
Impressed with skill,
Dismayed through maturity,
clouding my judgement
The other,
Transfixed,
Lingering emotions,
Pangs of jealousy surging,
with the signs of his distaste
He is the first,
the only one of any worth
I started off unable to write -
with a lack of inspiration
Now I am content with my inspiration
of emotional turmoil
Jun 14, 2013
Jun 14, 2013 at 4:20 PM UTC
~ for Rob Rutledge -
@ 6:15am
~~~~~
we all are living, reading and writing,
paycheck to paycheck
even if by happenstance, our bellies full,
for the white sheets we lay our words
down and upon, our supporters of
ids and egos of egg shell thin lifes
are the bare emptied shelves
of our unending, still ongoing
pandemic pandemonium,
razing times
of eroding joys
the sheets are blank, but our souls
wearied, helmed and whelmed
by the unending of the unexpected
that demands, orders and commands,
no matter what
pour it out blasting
unleashing the rage
compelled, compiled,
completely compulsing
we
selves ordered to compose
giving form and firmament
to our vaporous innards,
releasing new oxygen from
the tides inside and without,
clashing ideas, irregular notions
that demand we poets responsible
for reconciliation and auditing for
human truths
we awake barren but weighty,
the emotions are rustling in the
now daily, common,
mighty metors of gusts of higher winds,
spreading fire and measles to spite,
not despite
our fragile failings & flailings
oh goodness and grace,
let that be the colors of
our skin, our face,
essay on, sashay with a
swinging motion,
yes, rhyme and rhythm
and deliver us with words
so soft, they shatter the
gloomy desperation of
what confronts our entirety,
when the terrors of our
sleeping dreams cannot be
differentiated from the
sad eyed waking
ones
so write, and right,
these troubled times,
when trolls, dragons
and yet unnamed monsters
seek to take away our
tiny green planet, watered,
seeded and plentiful fruited
plains enough to satisfy us all
if we are so emboldened to choose
all of us over our lonely selfish selfs
Feb 25, 2025
Feb 25, 2025 at 6:31 AM UTC
synergy in the mist
of creations' breath...
multitudes croaking so loudly
drowning in eventide dew,
all the wind's timbre
is hushed;
overcome
by earth’s
communing symphony,
creations’ living
pulsing thrum..
alone in a crowd
proclaiming
the glory of now...
whelmed,
and i wishing
i were a frog,
and unalone
in the throng
maybe
such evolution
as this—
is reversing...
Ouroboros
touched wondrously
by spoken wind,
urgently
i need to search
for an intimate kiss
metamorphosis,
another incarnation
that will turn me
back into a frog—
a speck of stardust
in a sky full of stars
seems better than
feeling like stardrift
ashes
a burned out candle
muted
by the gypsy choir
*the call of the wild
sung in the wind*
wild is the wind
Apr 12, 2018
Apr 12, 2018 at 11:01 AM UTC
Much too late
for thoughts
of what her father
might say
Fay went with you
to the Globe cinema
in Camberwell Green
a right fleapit of a place
but the film
you wanted to see
was on there
Daniel Boone
all about the Old West
and after it was over
and you came out
into the bright sunlight
your eyes felt
over whelmed
after the darkness
of the cinema
what did you think?
you asked
Fay said
yes it was good
not the sort of film
Daddy would have let me see
well he won't know
you've seen it
will he
you said
unless he asks me
then I'll have to
tell him the truth
she said
why would he ask?
you looked at her
standing there
with her fair hair
and lovely blue eyes
he might ask me
what I have done today
she said
her eyes beginning
to show signs of fear
maybe he won't
you said
just tell him
you've been studying
American history
she looked at her hands
he doesn't like America
or Americans
she said
well you don't have to
like something to study it
I have to do it all week
at school
you said
maybe he won't ask
she said softly
looking at you
fiddling with her fingers
distract him
tell him something else
talk about a butterfly
you saw on the bombsite
she looked at you
and smiled
you don't know him
he'll ask me
what sort of butterfly
and I won't know
and he'll know
I've been lying
and that will mean
being punished
she looked up the street
toward the bus stop
we had better be getting back
she said
he'll be home soon
ok
you said
and took her hand
and walked toward
the bus stop and waited
for the bus
if I told my mother
the truth all the time
she'd have a nervous breakdown
it's more kinder
to keep her happy
in innocent bliss
of what I get up to
Fay looked haunted
and was silent
she still held your hand
a fading bruise just visible
on her upper arm
where her dresses sleeve
moved
how about some ice-cream
when we get back
I've got a Shilling
given to me
by my old man yesterday?
she hesitated
ok I’d like that
she said
and when the bus
came along
you both got on
and sat next
to each other
downstairs near
the conductor
watching the scenes
of passing people
and traffic go by
but a special place
in your mind and heart
of Fay
next to you
quiet and shy.
May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 5:13 AM UTC
blank stares swamped
with echoes in the head
blank papers filled
with scribbles in the mind
blank verses whelmed
with currents in the soul
i’m a fresh spirit
with a blank facade
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 7:00 AM UTC
The nightmares are getting stronger and more powerful. The Worst part is I'm awake.
These heartaches and the struggle to breathe get me the most at night, when you aren't around. I'm tired of crying I'm tired of feeling so over whelmed because I know I can't live without out you. Why can't I live without you?
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 11:26 PM UTC
To breathe or not to breathe?
Over whelmed by all this,
The desire to catch a breath and see
See the light of the shining, burning sun.
To feel the breeze and the cool wind of the night.
I am trapped in the dark, in your too warm arms.
Let me breathe I whisper, let me breathe I cry,
A cry for help,
A cry for forgiveness,
A cry to be let go.
It is time, time to leave the nest,
Time to live and grow.
To understand and learn.
I gotta go,
I gotta breathe...
It is time for me to breathe.
Mar 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013 at 12:10 AM UTC