"whisperer" poems
in a low silky voice
he whispers ***** ***** *****
he's at the gym
not to far
in the tub
at the spa
come ***** dear
lets have lots a fun
and kiss a while
he licks you some
he loves you so
would you like a big mouse
he has one honey
and its not your spouse
a crazy boy
all over you
drinks you like wine
and eats you like stew
he's not about kids
and going to work
but he washes your dishes
and hes not a ****
***** perfume
the natural smell
don't hide it sweet girl
watch him swell
oh comb it pretty
loves hairy too
spread it like butter
hoochi coohi cooo
don't be shy
and open wide
coax out your ****
and feel the glide
hes the ***** whisperer
calling your soul
loving every fold
melting every hole
summer sweet fruit
hidden away
come on honey
let's dance and play
candy ****
and ***** pie
sweet juicy lush
down velvety thigh
he's got a nice one
its really cool
a big pink stick
that makes you drool
he's the ***** whisperer
calling in time
come hither my love
its not a crime*
meowwwww
May 1, 2018
May 1, 2018 at 11:32 AM UTC
You are my wolf
As I'm your moon,
You howl at night
So I shine upon you.
Have you ever wondered about us?
How our miseries blend?
I scar upon my weary soul
To heal your withered veins.
I am the lonely moon,
And you're the lonely wolf,
Lonely is what makes us lovely
Let us love our fragile souls.
I'm the silent watcher
To all of your thoughts and prays.
I am the quiet whisperer,
Yes, I hear you call out to me everyday.
So tonight, my love
Let us write our stories to the stars.
Let me shine upon you,
And let our love guide us so far.
Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 5:51 AM UTC
Not eating chocolate covered cherries and strawberries and lychees and onions and chillies and grapes and marshmallows and turtle meat and cake and shark bones and oysters and camel and beef and beef with dog food and rabbit fur and smarties and skittles and twine and rope and yak and buses and buffalo and authors and novels and chipping containers and bicylces and emus and penguins and polar bear slippers and darned socks and stewed lobster and Darwin Deez and get well cards and ibuprofen tablets is fine with me.
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 9:53 PM UTC
I knew a man once who could read the trees
He'd stand in a field with nothing on
And look at them for hours
(He couldn't talk to flowers)
But he would pour over every branch
Trace every knot and feel their bark
He translated a sycamore for me once
But oaks and beeches were his favourite
He said he just preferred their type.
The elbow bends told him of seasons
The trunk's tilt told the prevailing winds
Their denseness in relation to their neighbours
Told him all manner of gossipy things.
The colours and the hues told of the soil
The moulds and lichens the local fashions
He'd tell you if they'd ever been frightened
By hippies, chainsaws, axes or lightening.
And as I looked on, I realised something
As I read his naked body with no clothes
This man was obviously a stark raving lunatic.
Jan 23, 2012
Jan 23, 2012 at 8:31 AM UTC
Oh, liberation,
comes in whatever form to save me
I am burdened,
and then the whisper comes
You whisper in the breeze
Whispers that I'm needing
Quiet words,
soothe the hurt,whisperer
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 4:43 PM UTC
**Earth Day, April 22, 2017 "give back to Earth",
as an "offering" for all the planet gives us.**
For Global Earth Day information visit: http://www.earthday.org/
Her ominous shadow
shown a path
far beyond the miles high
a majestic mountain stood
Silently climbing down
million year old
steep canyon walls
at dawn,
each step chosen carefully
coursing with purpose
Finding a way forward
was the only way
to look back up
river carved ravines
where higher ground
once stood
Instincts drawn downward
gravity feed towards
the faint murmurs
deep echoes tracery
down sheer basalt cliffs
Artesian waters'
resounding gurgles ―
bubble up to quench
a lost soul’s incurably
intrinsic parching thirst;
to find an unfolding
metamorphic peace
in the trove of igneous
fountain veins of earth
There’s not need to wait
on sunrise pathways lit ―
there is no fear of gravity’s
downward silent weight
nor burden to be borne
Listening beyond dark silence .
igneous bedrock roots
beckon deeper expanse ;
spirit realms of ancient souls
whisperer like thunder
to the soul of man ―
Awakening ruptured lifelines
deep below earthen crust ,
creations hidden essence
eternally remembered
by the light above ...
April 2017 © harlon rivers ... all rights reserved
Apr 21, 2017
Apr 21, 2017 at 10:02 AM UTC
*
Walls upon walls of soundless treatment
I talk to the voiceless whisperer.
*
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 4:59 AM UTC
living a charmed existence in the
shade of the seaward palm tree
but a telltale whisperer in hearts depth
sends doubters and scaremongers
like skulking figure's into the late day shadows
something darkly this way comes
some nameless faceless thing stalks this heartland of light
few pondered the night
few thought about what lay out there in the deep
brazen the lighthouse keeper
stokes the fires and keeps the lamps burning
no rumor of night will lay darkness at this door
no faint echo of footfall shall haunt this hour
again and again the lighthouse keeper
treads the midnight cold path of stones
along the seawall checking that all is well
raising his lantern and peering with old eyes
at the crazed cracks in the ancient wall
but none gave sign of weakness
none gave sign of peril
far out in the deep of the wider world
for the love of money and the greed of gasoline
something set in motion
some terrible beast of steel
and just as the moon set
in the final hour before dawn it came
heaving and rattling with such horrendous sounds
with bone rattling force laid its terrible hand on the seawall
and smashed the stones like it was no more than sand castle
this terrible thing so darkly come
unforgiven of wretched creature misguided soul
come to harvest the land of light
breathed with heavy burnt oil
breathed with mechanical labors
pulling its weight onto the shore
toppled the lighthouse extinguishing its light
darkness fell upon the scene
and with dreadful night returned once again to this shore
the seaward palm tree wither and die
no charmed place safe
from savage of dark
morning light never to return
in the shade of metal and oil fires night
the savage of darkness
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 9:10 PM UTC
~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~
The life we live each day is a spiritual journey;
we find our places, we sit,
then we sail meditatively
on waters where the past and present play.
a chance to reflect on what to think, what to do,
a place where raging thoughts are purified,
all worries and fears are washed away.
soothing words gently rise and fall
with the waves that fill the sea,
thoughts that dwell in the steerer's mind,
a message he conveys to us, his passengers,
like a wind blowing, caressing our unsettled hearts
as crystal waters, calm and still us deep within.
At journey's end, we rise and leave the vessel, enlightened.
with endless thanksgiving, we gift our captain,
a Soul Whisperer,
his name is
Amitav Radiance.
~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~
Sally
Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 7:22 AM UTC
i talk to trees instead of people. they listen better.
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 4:55 PM UTC
in a low silky voice
he whispers ***** ***** *****
he's at the gym
not to far
in the tub
at the spa
come ***** dear
let's have lots a fun
and kiss a while
he licks you some
he loves you so
would you like a big mouse
he has one honey
and it's not your spouse
a crazy boy
all over you
drinks you like wine
and eats you like stew
he's not about kids
and going to work
but he washes your dishes
and hes not a ****
***** perfume
the natural smell
don't hide it sweet girl
watch him swell
oh comb it pretty
loves hairy too
spread it like butter
hoochi cooo
don't be shy
and open wide
coax out your ****
and feel the glide
hes the ***** whisperer
calling your soul
loving every fold
melting every hole
summer sweet fruit
hidden away
come on honey
let's dance and play
candy ****
and ***** pie
sweet juicy lush
down velvety thigh
he's got a nice one
it's really cool
a big pink stick
that makes you drool
he's the ***** whisperer
calling in time
come hither my love
it's not a crime
meowwwww
Nov 26, 2017
Nov 26, 2017 at 11:00 AM UTC
I'm stuck in this room
Trapped by the decaying white walls
That I scrape away at,
Mindlessly, as I shift
From medicated dreams to
Manic insomnia.
I thought the last thing I said to you was
Don't leave me here.
My eyes bleed
As I try to remove the demons
Infesting me,
Creeping through my lashes
Into my irises.
The droplets stain the walls,
Fingerprinting my frenzied panic,
Echoing the last thing I said to you.
Why did you leave me here?
The air is intoxicating,
Shifting from breathlessness to weightlessness.
I'm sure they poison me here.
And you, the fallen angel of my thoughts,
You fiendish whisperer,
You have felt my fear,
Witnessed its brutality
In its shifting manifestations,
But still you left me here.
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 2:31 PM UTC
Mirror Mirror what a shame
you've come to ruin another name
smudged in ink
she sank like zinc
before I even knew to blame
Little birdie picking mice
did you know she slept in ice?
Bobbing head
yessings said
and with that, my throat she sliced
Such a midnight spoken blur
whatever did I do to her?
handed hand
she broke my stand
the biggest alley whisperer
It never were a slip of Freud
and now I see she's paranoid
people smart
with empty heart
she dropped my secrets into the void
Jul 31, 2018
Jul 31, 2018 at 10:47 AM UTC
New days again
to start something new
Pondering the words
in silence
For my weaken soul
as I wonder
How long to comprehend
what would it means to me?
When would
the perfect place be?
The moment
your in silence
Clouds of knowledge
it waltz in the rhyme
my soul's dances by.
I, not dreams
to become a poet
Nor, to be writer of books
Yet, the echoes of the lamb's
and whisperer's of the lion's
Seeds in me
As the years pass
Like winter and springs
It grows within my veins
and flow's like water.
And yes it's true
Some seeds has it's time
While the others grows
Same as others sowed
and my wanders becomes
wonder too.
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 10:18 AM UTC
-on a mummy whisperer encouraging an ancient,
dedicated servant to worship his mistress once again
Come, rise, out of your bandages.
Do not fear her reptile grin,
those dead, cold, killing eyes,
that lacerating tongue.
Watch that glimmer of hope:
the naivety of her simple feet,
those loose phalanges calling for bonds.
Come, kneel, kiss them tender!
Those harmless toes,
that innocence, clumsy and unspoiled.
Now love, hope and fear can make you
find yourself in bandages, again.
Look upward, eyes shut...
Loose yourself in cosmic lights:
her toe tips brightly guide you through the night.
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 9:22 AM UTC
The boys were allergic
But before Dad came along
Mom had always been a cat whisperer
I saw her do it at a party once
Tongue rolling
Fingers twitching
From across the room
The little panther was entranced
Burn worthy witchcraft
I knew she had a way with birds
But this was something new
Something foreign and beautiful
Surprise surprise
It was a black kitty cat Halloween
Mom cut out ears to attach to my headband
Then drew dark brown eyeliner whiskers
With a triangle on the tip of my 6 year old nose
All in black
Part ninja
Part cat
We were off
Brother and sister
Pillowcases in hand
Noticing my lack of tail Mom called me back
She reached into the costume box and grabbed a long dark braid
With one swift tuck into the back of my pants
An instant flawless feline emerged ready to make her debut
And boy did I play the part
Prancing back from the hunt
There she was silhouetted in the doorway
Tongue rolling
Fingers twitching
******* on sweet tarts
I didn't stand a chance
A family of actors
"Mom, look what I found! Can we keep it?"
They each took turns petting the newest addition
And Dad let out a convincing sneeze
A life I could get used to
Tick Tock the cockatiel
Had better watch her back
E.Poe
Oct 2012
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 3:39 AM UTC
Sub-atomic particles
the atoms they form
molecules, cell organelles
cells, machinery of life
organs, organisms
communities and ecosystems
planets, solar systems, galaxies
galactic clusters and their inverse
black holes the doors to other
universes, a contradiction
in terms.
For language and its shadow
consciousness must hold matter
the material world snugly inside concepts
theories and hypotheses to be
experimentally verified using vision
and the other senses, collecting data
and interpreting the known facts
accumulated over time.
Can matter
exist without a consciousness to behold it?
Believing in
our mortality (the species)
we have created God
(a supreme being)
probably not carbon-based
to encompass every universe
but is God
inside or outside
consciousness? Can God
tell us what to do
or must we tell God
alone
what to do?
Here is ego
projecting personality, exerting force
on community, asserting the existence
and predominance of component DNA.
An already hackneyed theory that DNA
survival drives
procreation, personality, savings bonds
everything but poetry (most poems included).
Mustache, cowboy hat
horse whisperer, gulag master
Odysseus, King Lear
salvation in the details.
Yes, these personalities individual and interesting
as opossum, bear
oak and ash
beech nut, pine cone
Grand Canyon sandstone, Green Mountain granite.
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 5:13 PM UTC
While I, that reed-throated whisperer
Who comes at need, although not now as once
A clear articulation in the air,
But inwardly, surmise companions
Beyond the fling of the dull ass's hoof
- Ben Johnson's phrase - and find when June is come
At Kyle-na-no under that ancient roof
A sterner conscience and a friendlier home,
I can forgive even that wrong of wrongs,
Those undreamt accidents that have made me
- Seeing that Fame has perished that long while,
Being but a part of ancient ceremony -
Notorious, till all my priceless things
Are but a post the passing dogs defile.
1.6k
We don't have to wait,
Halloween comes every day,
Shadow figures on their way,
The side show
The freak show
The funhouse across the bay,
We go there on purpose every day.
My light is kind of
fading I can see it
in the mirror
I can't quite see my way
to make it there today.
Your flashlights
in this funhouse Darkness
continues
to light the way,
for lost and wandering souls
as it has every day.
Humor
Grace
The soul whisperer
A lone long walker
The warrior spirit
A solo ocean swimmer
The darting eyed organizer
with the heart of gold
A stand-up comic
The old old sage
willing to fight it out
in the bleakness factory
every day.
As I make my way
to the exit sign
I can hear the five o'clock
screams
the lobby scene
cops dragging
a woman
screaming my name
I go anyway.
For those kind souls
left behind
as
the listener hums a tune
in his own mind
closes the door
one last time
with a sigh,
finally
has left it
all behind
saying
a
short prayer to the passing
of time,
for those who put their
love and compassion
on the line
in every way
every day.
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 10:10 AM UTC
Your voice is like a silent whisper that I no longer wish to hear
On any given day it breaks me down
like the soft hiss and hush of waves
working to break the levee
I feel your voice speaking from inside my cheeks
It feels like forever
and I still can't seem to shake you from my skin
how I say things the way you used to say them
how I sometimes think about things that make me uncomfortable
and say your name out loud to halt my thought's direction
I ******* miss you
but I don't want to miss you anymore
Moving on is the dilemma for ghosts
Who have nothing left to hold on to
I can't hold your ghost
There are people here who
are still perfectly capable of holding me
And when I see you again
Maybe you won't be able to hold me
Because I imagine
heaven
is energy
I know this in the way my skin still heats up
at the thought of your touch
you move my molecules a fire-friction-engine-rumble
You are energy
and this is how I know you are happy
because there isn't anything else you can be
This is how I know heaven is real
God is a ball of light that feels like a fiery smile when you touch it
But I still hear your voice at night
and maybe your memories creep up
like epiphany shivers
like
oh
This is just me missing you
I am still human
and I am allowed to do silly human things
Because I am alive
and so much self preservation
I haven't let you go yet
Which is why I still hear you
reminding me to do stupid things like take care of myself
and to not hang my head so wrecking-ball heavy
unless I am finally breaking down my own walls
to sucker punch my gut
in order to remind my lungs
that even without you here
the air still tastes so sweet
Reset my suckerpunch
to gasp
to fight for inhale
to understand
that my own breath
still tastes so sweet
I hear you
you silent whisperer
I hear you
Apr 15, 2012
Apr 15, 2012 at 4:32 PM UTC
Meet the Whisperer....
(Oh, and you will want to, promise :)
1.
He can shape and mould
To aught pleasure he desires.
When he calls them at will
Supple compliance at his command.
Yes, they come like twitching magnets
Real easy beck and call.
Such happy slaves are they
Very few recalcitrant ones.
He twists and trims their sides
Makes them kneel before his want.
He will harness their might
Bend them sweetly to his gratifix.
Perchance, skittish on occasion
Yet they serve their master well.
They can spread to furthest capacity
Turning dried veracity into well-loved fable.
He whips them to submission
Insanely alive, they need birth certificates!
Yet tenderly, he caresses, explores
Renders dramatic echoes in outrageous lore.
2.
They melt like marvelous putty, toffee in deft hands
Makes them caress YOU sensuous, everywhere...
They reach deep, tap in and touch your core
Delight or thrill....or equally meet your mind.
Yes, they can stick you with bruising truth
Move you, or bring you to your knees....
They can furnish context with telling content
And with stunning detail, woo the sox off thee :-p
He articulates every brief encounter
With sage and timeless passion.
Molten liquid drips from his entrancing tip
In gilt carriages headed your way....
When the whisperer appears, best be ready
To receive what he may see fit to flay on you!
If that's too tall an order, it amounts to
Clipped wings, falling sadly short of flight.
Be willing to taste that mesmerising lilt
Indebted you'll be to the lack of crude reality.
Oh, reader...retire not spirit of droll mind
Revel eager in rich spark for riveting trips.
Yes, he is the one, your...
One and only word-whisperer.
(Enchante, cher lecteur :)
bows
Star Toucher, 28 March 2013
Mar 29, 2013
Mar 29, 2013 at 7:21 AM UTC
While I, that reed-throated whisperer
Who comes at need, although not now as once
A clear articulation in the air,
But inwardly, surmise companions
Beyond the fling of the dull ass's hoof
--Ben Johnson's phrase--and find when June is come
At Kyle-na-no under that ancient roof
A sterner conscience and a friendlier home,
I can forgive even that wrong of wrongs,
Those undreamt accidents that have made me
--Seeing that Fame has perished that long while,
Being but a part of ancient ceremony--
Notorious, till all my priceless things
Are but a post the passing dogs defile.
1.4k
Let it be, I always say
The whole night, the entire day
Life always has its own way
Let it be, I always say
I will get through this, I pray
Keeping all my tears at bay
Let them be, I always say
The whole night, the entire day.
May 1, 2017
May 1, 2017 at 12:15 AM UTC
We place our wishes
in the canines
of spackle.
Above us the teeth
wait
to be broken.
While we watch
the Dog Whisperer
breaking
mustangs,
I wrap my arm
around the eternal flatness
of your shoulder.
We say nothing,
we don't even whisper
as our dreams fall around us,
in an automatic spray.
I get on the coffee table,
to fix the fan.
You arc your neck
around me,
like a diamondback
you coil until you feel the heat
of the tv in your eyes,
on your cheeks,
on your lips.
As you watch Cesar
more than me,
I dust our dreams off
of the fan.
I am a sculpture
that you must break your neck to get around
as I fidget with the monkey wrench.
There is nothing eternal,
we burn our love
like shoots of wheat,
so much beige grass
extending over your shoulder
into forever.
What kind of dogs
are we?
The ones that no longer
know the plains
of each others' fur,
the fire in our teeth,
the sun of each others' eyes,
the rain of our lips.
There is too much heat between us,
too much dryness now,
not enough calcium raining
from basalt clouds.
What I'm trying to say,
is that I do not explode
like a force of nature,
I am rock.
Mar 6, 2012
Mar 6, 2012 at 10:21 PM UTC