"whispery" poems
Ilion gray
poet extraordinary
is away
learning the codes hidden in raindrops
no reason for surprise;
for the mountains of Brooklyn, the Manhattan caverns of Sunhenge^, corridors of narrow focus for trapping the declining sun rays,
neither high enough, narrow blinding,
to keep a good man from doing good things that life provides as opportunities
to do the right thing
he muses that it took five years for the other poets to understand our
poem-dreams;
avant-garde he says,
but I laugh,
never felt more misunderstood
and reply take care, be
en garde!
no matter for he is learning a new language,
the codes hidden in raindrops in a land of wheat
once called Indian Territory and eager
await his return so we may
walk along the Brooklyn shoreline,
beginning from under the Brooklyn Bridge
where Washington’s men escaped a British trap
and he can decode for me the whispery thunderous noises of
NY
showers that come up so sudden, so roughened, but right now,
the seductive sun blinks in Manhattan windowed towers reflecting back on to our East River as golden blinks of nature
We will walk lost in the absorption of our
different commonalities, holding the hands of
his young son, and my Wendy,
both of them equal in possession of round saucer eyes
that give us poems
He calls me me friend,
I call him brother, teacher, master, better than the best,
well recalling a late night message that bred
a five year conversation ongoing
not everything need be coded
what you read here
it is not coded,
for the raindrops come clear and clean
and the poems land on our tongues
bounce on the foreheads and eyes of the babes, all stored and saved for the future blessings spoken in a single tongue
7/18/18
^https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Manhattanhenge
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 10:41 PM UTC
You worth more than a thousand golden crowns
and continent wide silks
and all the brighter, wilting stars in the dark
and had you pulled the universe to you,
it will surely crawl under your thigh
as a machination made only for you.
And you worth more than the ten thousand horses that I had slain
and I pulled them onto your sheets
as whispery faeries gnawed onto its skin
onto its slippery vein
gory, but lovely all the same.
Alas, you worth more than another ten thousand of them running
hooves clattered across the impenetrable glass of auroral dome
and I saw you rode on another ten thousand that had not deserve you-
as you deserved gold and stars
and all the greater fury of this land,
not treachery and I.
Gold was the color of your ruse
and your words deify scorching stars into bloom
and you reek of rust — the finest yellow there was.
Mar 18, 2018
Mar 18, 2018 at 10:34 PM UTC
shadows cast into clouds of sand as footprints leave their mark
voices so full of fun with not a care in this world
summer sun washed over by the crash of thunder
the sea shouting against the shells to your ears
blue whispery skies feed warmness to the skin
as weeks of a worklife pass to say goodbye
ice cream melted to cheeks as tissue lips from a nan
feed a childs cry
this is what we live for in a world so left behind
donuts sugared a thirst as sticky fingers lay ******
fish from an ocean battered or fried to the best ive ever noshed
sounds of the beach washed over me as grandads snores a snort ..
too much lunchtime pie i guess ..deserving resort
dreams of a past ...dreams of another
football played and dogs all wet scenes from a beach
alive still ...kids gone red
searing sizzles from a sun at its best as rounders run
or frisbee fetched
photo taken a collection booth ..memories made as dreams come true
dreams of a summer
dreams of a summer
Feb 10, 2012
Feb 10, 2012 at 12:06 AM UTC
armed and dangerous, 20 oz. of hot hot coffee, tablet on lap,
sitting on the deck overlooking the bay, and once again,
unusual for me, I am touched by the sanctity of the serenity
pervading, assuaging, by waves just loud enough to sway to,
the off/on chatter of the early bird's convocation of the morning's
blessing, have survived another night to greet greatly the outlines
of loveliness in the all~of~surroundings, which hacks my brain,
for I am by forty years of habitation more accustomed to a rough and tumble city boy trader, screamer of:
buy/sell/straddle/strangle/crush/kill/mercilessness, no quarter,
no mindfulness in me naturally, until nature robs my tools of
denial, and I smell the sanctity of fresh sheets laid on bed, the
warmed blood, vein coursing, suggesting just listen, listen,
the hot shower water eradicating the prior day's sinfulness,
the highly valued sensations of sensational emptiness, and
words drifting from the surround movie theater of a vista beloved,
coming for to fill and fulfill this always~in~mourning soul by the
overhauling of a crisp, cleansing day break
I, familiar with notions of perpetuity, and at best, conceptual, though
my mind permits a drift to the thoughtfulness that this place, this moment, this performance art of spectacular breathing of another
dawning day, after thousands upon thousand of its predecessors,
and the possibility, not remote, but not promised, to anyone, just may
occur at least once more, and one must learn contentment from but
that idea, and sip the cooling dregs of coffee, the sounds of human
interference, car door slamming, the heaving breathing of morning joggers, the wind rising, the white caps snapping, precursors and
signs that natural perfection is never permanent, always in transition,
and a whispery smile crosses my cheeks, as a silly thought invades,
nature is so very human~like and yet, immortal…
composed between 6:30 and 8:30 am this day
Wed Aug 20 twenty twenty-five
Silver Beach
Aug 20, 2025
Aug 20, 2025 at 8:34 AM UTC
365Nectar #60 Devour Me
Fri. November 22, 2013 9:18 P.M.
Devour me...
A provocative passionate pouring
of pillaging and plundering...
A pleasing prowling
of a piercing plunderer...
A lovely, limp nymph
laid upon a sizzling alter...
Smoldering...
Awakening all the senses
a choking of lust
unleashes exhilarating
and
envelops you...
Effortlessly evoking ethereal...
a sinister seduction
seductively seduces
and hungry hips
breakdance with hysterical
Stimulating a surreal surge of a sweet seeping...
waiting...
impatiently...
For you to chisel
an unimaginable devouring...
S slow steady climb to the summit
of the ultimate ******
Time-
Time-
Time... a tool to employ flamboyantly...
immediately...
eargerly...
Expose my conquered heart
that leaks
of streams
of cream
of succulent sensation...
Expose my tamed moistness
that whispery whines
as you build a legacy
of torturous licking....
Seductively...
Slithering in spicy spirals
of stirring screams
from stormy shivers
of steamy anticipation
of your redefining touch...
Suddenly...
drowning in the sticky sensation
of all that is us...
A tender luscious love liquefying flesh
and penetrating souls...
We blend in blazing bliss
tapping taboo for titillating thrills
you rock a rowdy ravishing
inside me...
I whisper wet whimpers
and beg for bitten breast...
Our wrestling hips
hug, ***** and groan a hungry growling...
Pounded into saturated submission
I linger in lubricating dreams
for you-
to...
devour me.
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 6:42 PM UTC
It's the monster in your heart
The one that never gives in easy
It will follow you around till you finally
acknowledge it
It will haunt you, in your dreams and
your reality.
It'll make you draw back, intimidated and
terrified.
If you never look it in the face,
you'll never see what it means to fear
You might draw back-
one step, two steps, three
for you're terrified.
He's standing right in front of you,
his wild smile just for you,
the physical personification of your fear
And then you lean in, closer to his face,
growl at him to stay away.
Now it's his turn to draw back
As he throws his head back and laughs
in wild amusement and the same pride,
parents feel at the accomplishments of
their darling child.
He leaves you that day with a whispery
kiss on your forehead
but he's back the next to make you even
more scared.
One day, when you don't fight back
he will look into your eyes and see your fear
and will frown at the defeat in your eyes
He'll use the dirtiest of tricks to make you fight
He'd do anything to make you fight back
So if you crumple to the ground in defeat,
he'll make sure you watch as your worst enemy
receives all that you had been fighting for
right in-front of your very eyes.
His sense of humour is critical
State of mind, questionable
Love for you? Unforgettable
Oct 27, 2012
Oct 27, 2012 at 9:57 AM UTC
Whispers of the wind
Were drawn on the sky
Of the bitter mind you left.
Words of the swing
Were drawn on the lie
Of the sinner and his theft.
Poems of the lost
Were encrypted on the smiles
Of the blackest mind,
The inconsolable, misguided ghost.
Lyrics of the raws
Were sung in an old, crumbled swing
Forgotten in a pencil's graphite,
The Creator of the whispery wind.
A whole story was scattered
Like sand's little grains.
Each word was shattered
Until whispers have lost their shadow
A rememberance of us in a fabled meadow,
A pencil on plain paper,
It's all that remains.
Apr 16, 2011
Apr 16, 2011 at 1:50 PM UTC
Ineffable: Too great or extreme to be expressed or described in words; Too sacred to be uttered.
-------------------------–-------—-------------------------------------------------------------
The whimpered cries of the dying
in the rubble of Bangladeshi avarice,
announcing we were worthy of life,
to which we think to ourselves,
agreed upon
with our,
a whispery, silent
amen.
The still alive cries of children,
tornado-tormented parents screaming unfair,
teachers body shielding their charges, whispering
save us Lord, from your inventive toys,
to which we think to ourselves,
a whispery, silent
amen.
But here comes the Oklahoma tornadoes again,
now four more dead in Houston,
selecting the innocent, the brave,
logic in any of this, none,
nonsensical at its worst
to which we think to ourselves,
a whispery, silent
amen.
~~~~~
The first I-am-alive cries
of new born lungs,
I have grandson, stain-less, perfect,
recovering in the stainless steel delivery room,
I hear the all babies in the neo-natal unit in unison
pronouncing a Hebrew blessing,
the Shecheyanu...
(Blessed are You, Lord our God, Master of the universe, who has kept us alive and sustained us and has brought us to these special moments)
to which we think to ourselves,
a whispery, silent
amen.
These unspoken poem devotions of adoration
of the sleeping chamber, that cannot
be heard or answered for they're dreamt and
perchance in the morning thankfully recalled,
enough to be transcribed,
to which we think to ourselves,
a whispery, silent
amen.
Ineffable.
A day, just another supplying an average day
to the mass of average.
Birth + Death = an average day.
I thank a God for the
birth of a newborn perfection
On this day the newspapers report
about silence of the God others pray to,
could be the same deity,
reporting that in his holy places,
Jew spits upon Jew,
Muslims usurp Christian lives,
all for none,
all forgetting in
whose image they were created.
to which we cannot say nor think
anything.
Ineffable.
too sacred to be uttered,
so instead of the paucity of these unuttered words,
know that each tear in
the reservoir of my eyes
is my unspoken poem prayer.,
my amen.
*Instead of answering
amen out loud,
wipe my eyes
with your fingertips,
silently.*
May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 3:19 PM UTC
Like so many
times before,
she went out
into the dark
and pulled it
around her--
its cloak of
charcoal
staining
her fingers
as she
grasped its
deeply opaque
fabric of smoke
turning her
eyes into mirrors--
mirrors reflected
inside out, thoughts
and feelings
brash and quiet
in their subtle
points of weaving
until the cold
gleam of shards
of the onyx air
clung to her form
like an inky abyss,
the very reverse
reflection
of black snow
spilling and seeping
into her essence,
filling the weeping
in whispery presence
until all she could do
was curl into the
soft embrace
of obsidian,
surrender her soul
to the starless sky
and let
it in
Aug 28, 2016
Aug 28, 2016 at 3:53 PM UTC
i am sitting on the bridge i grew up on, where it smells like skunks. no one minds. i am listening to four creatures soaring way over head. then there's the crickets, the tree frogs, the breeze through the leaves. the soft brushing of this pen hitting the paper. my breaths through a stuffy nose, leaves interrupting the creek's flow, ever so slightly, a few rocks and branches deciding it's time to change location from the top of the hill, to the bottom, and a comforting whistle i cannot identify. and that one being, maybe a tree frog, that sounds like maracas shaking or a basking tambourine. the footsteps of a stranger, maybe a friend, but the rhythm sounds foreign, heavy. when i close my eyes, it's now Mt. Pocono 1998. i am there. acorns and pine cones introducing themselves to earth. all the spiders in the world building their webs, their homes, the whispery rushed sound. and if you listen long enough, someone mowing their lawn, another driving too fast, always in a hurry, could be anyone. all i know at this point is, it's not me
Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 11:09 PM UTC
even in my youth, i did not dream of evil.
i could not fathom devils or demons
endlessly circling around a fiery pit -
painting their whispery words onto the pages
of other children's fairytales.
before i shut my weary eyes and closed the pages
of yet another gold gilted storybook, i thought to myself,
"i cannot imagine evil" -
not one dragon's white hot flames;
scorching the stone foundation of a dark tower
where a porcelain princess patiently awaits the end of a solitary life -
braiding and unbraiding golden hair until her fingers bleed.
"i cannot imagine evil" -
not one prince's frustration as
soft lips and slender hands are torn from him
and all that is left of his newfound beloved
is a sparkling slipper carressing the castle stairs
while the twelfth boom of a clock still lingers in the evening air.
no, i did not dream of evil in the twilight before sleep.
i dreamt of a delicately aging queen,
sick with worry when her dear stepdaughter did not return
from the twisted woods before the rising of a silvery moon.
i dreamt of her graceful arms outstretched for a gentle embrace
as the huntsman and the raven haired girl enter the glass hall,
hand-in-hand,
a basket of innocent ruby apples
swinging in time between them.
Jan 28, 2012
Jan 28, 2012 at 12:51 PM UTC
Ineffable (More Tornado Prayers and Such)
Ineffable:
*Too great or extreme to be expressed or described in words;
Too sacred to be uttered.*
~~~
The whimpered cries of the dying
in the rubble of Bangladeshi avarice,
announcing we were worthy of life,
to which we think to ourselves,
agreed upon
with our,
a whispery, silent
amen.
The still alive cries of children,
tornado-tormented parents screaming unfair,
teachers body shielding their charges, whispering
save us Lord, from your inventive toys,
to which we think to ourselves,
a whispery, silent
amen.
But here comes the Oklahoma tornadoes again,
now four more dead in Houston,
selecting the innocent, the brave,
logic in any of this, none,
nonsensical at its worst
to which we think to ourselves,
a whispery, silent
amen.
~~~~~
The first I-am-alive cries
of new born lungs,
I have grandson, stain-less, perfect,
recovering in the stainless steel delivery room,
I hear the all babies in the neo-natal unit in unison
pronouncing a Hebrew blessing,
the Shecheyanu...
(Blessed are You, Lord our God, Master of the universe, who has kept us alive and sustained us and has brought us to these special moments)
to which we think to ourselves,
a whispery, silent
amen.
These unspoken poem devotions of adoration
of the sleeping chamber, that cannot
be heard or answered for they're dreamt and
perchance in the morning thankfully recalled,
enough to be transcribed,
to which we think to ourselves,
a whispery, silent
amen.
Ineffable.
A day,
just another supplying an average day
to the mass of average.
Birth + Death = an average day.
I thank a God for the
birth of a newborn perfection
On this day the newspapers report
about silence of the God others pray to,
could be the same deity,
reporting that in his holy places,
Jew spits upon Jew,
Muslims usurp Christian lives,
all for none,
all forgetting in
whose image they were created.
to which we cannot say nor think
anything.
Ineffable.
too sacred to be uttered,
so instead of the paucity of these un-uttered words,
know that each tear in
the reservoir of my eyes
is my unspoken poem prayer.,
my amen.
Instead of answering
amen out loud,
wipe my eyes
with your fingertips,
silently.
An ineffable amen
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 4:00 PM UTC
The undertaker’s blues
have nothing to do with a proximity
to death. An occupation is just that.
Unwavering with his
probes and mysterious poisons,
He may even be mystified by the lilac flesh,
so whispery-cold and delicate now.
And yet depression
burrows into his psyche,
searches for the richest soil in which to plant itself.
Its roots spread
like sharp serpentine veins growing
from an evil heart.
Maybe,
New and severely altered thoughts
make a man stop
and think. Maybe he will worry
as to how our bodies become
so soulless
immediately following death.
Solitudinous man,
questioning…
The true definition of death?
Does it really require wrenching that final,
most prized,
breath from men that still
have noble things to lie for?
I’ve seen my own father
ask these same questions
Of colleagues—
the living cadavers.
Those so void of concern,
that which departs a soul upon
our otherwise useless caverns.
Dec 5, 2011
Dec 5, 2011 at 6:59 PM UTC
in my private conversations, so many
emiploy this phrase, arms on chest folded,
a whispery plaint, and I too am folded into
too pieces, as well, my understanding fulsome,
for the struggling is well familiar, I under stand
beneath you, arms upraised, holding your shaking,
throbbing, wistful hearty sighs, constant tumbling,
floor~falling, see rose petals of sighs, all quiet screams,
and
my weak remedy is urging you to express
with the skill, known in you possess, to give
it forth, give it out and let us love your burdens
shared, and thus the be the firmament of our ties…
selfishly, I plead that you stun us with the
insight inside, hopeless hoping you surrender
and share in the only way I know that expiates some,
the grief, some of pained shame, and for a momentary
gasping, allows us grasping you, through you poetry,
the value you can bring forth to others humanity,
helping us to make us a better~both, with written creating
sums far, far greater than the to~us whole…
nml
7:45AM
Sabbath
May 25
2024
Silver Beach, Shelter Island
May 25, 2024
May 25, 2024 at 8:09 AM UTC
A Dragonfly once flew up
on its whispery wings
to the azure sky
that caught in the emptiness of time
after a crazy rainstorm disillusioned it,
to greet the Sun
peeking through scraps of ebony clouds.
A euphoric Sun mixed gold dust
to an ethereal orange on its palette, and
blew the sibyllic mist on the giggly,
gossamer wings of the Dragonfly.
And lo, tiny sparkling rainbow drops
started dancing
on the dreaming consciousness of the
rain-wet earth!
Jan 7, 2019
Jan 7, 2019 at 2:27 AM UTC
At breaking of dawn
in early morning light
when you first stir
and I'm your first sight,
when you gently taste
my satiny skin
teasing me awake
as our day begins.
With whispery touch
lips moving down my back
urging me to waken
love you with no lack,
arousing from slumber
with passion fully stirring
tensions already built
and motor whirring.
Hair tousled upon my pillow
as I come to you from sleep
then eyes widening with surprise
as you meet me so deep,
sun never burst
across morning sky
as the explosion from you
sending me into convulsive sighs.
Day has begun
with morning ever so bright
as you come to me
bringing total delight,
passion untethered
in wave after wave
leaving me sated
from the love you gave.
Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 10:46 PM UTC
No words are ever enough to quench this thirst,
To put out these roaring flames.
This nameless sensation swelling beneath my skin,
Rushing through me like a tempest,
And burying itself deep within my soul.
It burns behind my eyelids as I sleep,
And fills my mind with blurred, chaotic dreams.
Nothing can satisfy this unrelenting hunger,
This consuming desire for answers,
To questions that i cannot comprehend.
Constantly i wander in this maze of restless thoughts,
Raging through my burdened mind like wildfire.
Each dead-end mocks me with whispery words,
And yet i am forced to drift on,
Overcome with these numberless questions,
'Til this yearning for answers has gone.
Dec 4, 2010
Dec 4, 2010 at 10:55 PM UTC
“Not yet,” I whisper to the heavens. “I love it here.” — Clare Cory*
<>
**when desperate thoughts come seeking me
in the dark dear moments of near insanity,
when the hounding is bounding and baying,
nipping at my heels but aiming for my throat,
and the litany of next time, we’ll meet again,
is a whispery threating thread in my head that no scrubbing,
can unravel, erase, debase, or erase that awful distaste of
my embittered saliva, and a peace of mind finale
comes with a disgustingly disguising crook finger,
offering a taste of relief,
I will remember this story and clap my hands
and reach for the quill,
put down the temptation of the knife
and let it pour on to the paper
thus,**
*expiating and excavating and expectorating
sugary salty bile of
mine own self~hate
by whispering the magic of
Not Yet, Not Yet.*”
May 21, 2024
May 21, 2024 at 6:28 PM UTC
the room is filled with
old lady stank
the kind that assaults the nose
and crawls down the throat in
an angry attempt to
drive you right out of the building.
she says the walls are “peach”
but I can see behind the cracked flakes
that it was once yellow.
I just grunt and sit at the edge of the bed
determined to hate both colors on
principle alone
I don’t want to be here, in her stank
I don’t want to look at the cracked
and pitted
desert that was once her face
I don’t want to strain to hear her
wavering and whispery voice
Yet here I am,
surrounded
by horrific images of a ****** Christ
nailed ironically to the walls
rosary beads hanging from
every candle in the room
and the Blessed ******
fighting
for space on the walls next to her
zombie son
where’s her god now
I wonder sourly as I strain to hear
her wavering and whispery voice
relate how nice the orderly was
who
washed
her prune of a body this morning.
hell, forget the god
where was her family
or her friends
or her nut job preacher
there’s only me
carrying my own stank of
whiskey and smokes
sitting here on the edge of
her bed
listening to her stories
Jun 5, 2015
Jun 5, 2015 at 1:48 PM UTC
Into deeper darker depths I'm drawn
Inch-filled every way in wondrous sight
Of life, unseen, unknown, mysterious
Yet a familiar revelatory strangeness
The prompt blindly followed proved true
Echoed in surprising whispery sighs
As speech goes forth before hearing
So too the way walked then revealed
In mutual affirmation I'm given speech
In human tongues to craft the ineffable
That We hear, know, and acknowledge
Thus not hallucinations of wickedness
In ecstatic drunkenness I will sleep
For tomorrow to greater depths I go
Jul 18, 2025
Jul 18, 2025 at 4:52 AM UTC
The resurrected dead rouses not the dead
In sunshine candles open not any eyes
But a whispery hush suffices for the living
And the sighted sees in the darkest depths
Miracles are not for the dead but the living
Jezebel vowed to **** and Israel yet idolatrous
Parables, crafted tales, to mislead and hide
But turned to wine quenching mourning spirits
Millions are hidden and unknown, oppressed
By chance, without knowledge or intent, one,
by the wicked, blessed, but by miracle, Israel
remains unblessed, untouched by wickedness
Jun 20, 2025
Jun 20, 2025 at 2:21 AM UTC
Few things lying on my table
a yellow scrap book
a gold key
and an empty photo frame
things that were tangible and could be counted
but what was intangible
were my feelings
I could not measure them
But I could sense them
solvent and velvety
soft and whispery
Teary and stirring
like clouds with little drops of rain
refraction of my subtle emotions
on the horizon
shimmering like a *** of vivid colors ....
Mar 22, 2015
Mar 22, 2015 at 12:54 PM UTC
She looked at me with a whisper, a whisper of impossible tonics kissed by error and wrapped in something her very own: a cobblestone alleyway with gas lamps.
She whispered through centuries and languages, from unintelligible crude rocks to dashes and swoops of a corset. Through blue eyes and clouds, through dizzy spells of humanity’s uproar and endorphins fueled by alcohol.
She whispered and yelled and then she screamed, with the power of an open heartbroken and men fallen, up through the air and down through roots long faltered.
She screamed and screamed and nothing came out like it did from her whisper. She fell quiet. For she was nothing without the lilt of a tongue when greeting the one vitality she couldn’t make tangible.
Dec 8, 2018
Dec 8, 2018 at 6:25 PM UTC
you dream with eyes wide open, & i want to be part of that ****** ***** nestled within the lacing of your ribs. say something or don’t even speak, just run your fingers down the curve of my spine & tell me you love me. take me to neverland & don’t look back, our secret world, & ******* if i don’t love the way you make me feel infinite. no more clipping my own wings, i will not be an emergency waiting to happen. stay with me until the sun supernovas and we explode together in a shower of sparks & stardust. stay with me. you sing lullabies with your reaching arms & kiss my eyelids closed, soothing me to sleep with whispery words & strokes of skin on skin. maybe there’s a rainstorm in my brain, but wait with me until the sky breaks through & our cheeks are bathed at last in blue.
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 2:27 PM UTC
Thin whispery clouds formed around the distant hills
as I looked out into the vastness
Moonlight reflected from the dew as the dawn did open
Little fairy's danced before my eyes seeing life be born
And the sky did open
Light became light to the roar of sunlight warming the earth
Shadows formed to hold the darkness of night just a little longer
I stretched to the start of a new days dawning
Feeling my skin warm to the glow of the fire started in the sky
Life was waking ..I was alive
Cool breath from the night still filled my lungs as I exhaled the dark
to breath in the day
The sweet sweet taste of morning felt so good so fresh so alive
This was the taste of Earth
This was the taste of living
Oct 30, 2012
Oct 30, 2012 at 11:18 PM UTC