"wor" poems
.
•unchain me from unrest•
shovel me out of the dirt•
une- arth
my conge- sted chest•
let my secrets blurt•
let them
spill.....•
just for
the wor-
ld to see
•..string
me up...
..against
my will
•harvest
the fruits
of the bi-
tter tree•
let eyes
see what
will show
•...let feet
be caught
in stubbo-
rn mud...•
let prying minds be baffled.....by
what they would come to know
•...let wanting hearts choke...on
the dirges of my stale blood....•
now dig me up quickly•'cause
it's been far too long..... and i
have been readied•exhume
all of me completely•for
no longer should i
remain as........
buried•
.
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 7:36 AM UTC
i
worship
the god of small things
this
is
my
blas
phe
mous
rosary
god is good:
gale force winds
sandy beaches
sunset
god is good:
friends who know and still love you
the credulous wonder of children
singing your heart out
knowing you’re alive
thinning gracefully
growing wiser
not caring
puppies
catnaps
99s
god is good:
the joke you’ve never heard before
the queen of the night’s aria
jet engines at takeoff
the lightbulb moment
rolling fields of corn
rolling tears of joy
fine malt whisky
driving too fast
a good book
candles
god is good:
rainbows at the prow of a boat
sunshine after storms
a thin crescent moon
spray in your face
the smell of rain
leaping salmon
shooting stars
dark skies
fireworks
mars
god is good:
a sleeping lover’s moan
knowing he loves you
knowing she’s there
heartfelt laughter
a sincere touch
an honest hug
understanding
dinner for two
growing old
sharing
god is good:
a perfectly sculpted torso
the moment after waking
new scentsations
sincere smiles
a compliment
true friends
promises
release
solace
peace
i wor
ship the god of
small things. i give
thanks to her
every
day
bless
me
father
for
i
have
sinned
i
threw your cateschism to
the
wind
Jan 16, 2013
Jan 16, 2013 at 7:23 AM UTC
I don't feel it, You say. And, pray tell her
name, my sir, that i may find she thee and prithee
Bear me off to southern sounds, fallow fields,
an altar ground, a garland rope of singing springtime snows.
this may be more than i can--;;
YOU
ARE
NOT
WOR
THW
HILE
and i had such an awful dream last night--
you said, Bronwen, my love;
and i could not sweep her hair from the floorboards
beneath which you hid your ***** mags from mice.
because you tell me about it.
WHOAM?
you speak of gOd like dOgs & i am worthless coinage
in the sewers. the sewers find my dress still hanging from your bones.
your bones your bones your piano finger bones
kiss me again
until my lips swell my throat bleeds i do not want you to know how much i crawl spiderlike through the trails of hair in the drain as the autumn leaves the summer leaves the spring buds freeze over hell i am not i am not listening pan-drum please let me say this one last thing:;
he is your accordion player the ***** player man who speaks fluent french and inflected english he is your accordion player on the pipes-----
and you say i do not feel and i reply,
this is too bad too late, chuckle replay as your fantasy walks through the door my team my team she is porcelain lovely see the perfume in your synesthesia colorblind goat footed grandiose Cesar with epilepsy she is your dream she is she is she is!
&meanwhile; the trumpet in soul still plays solfeggio---
1 2 le 3 4 1 2 le 3---1 2 le 3 4 1 3--le 1 le 3 le 1
she is the discord of the seventh in the tenor line
she is membranes she is rain she is towels
LEIGH **** IT
if only if only you weren't so lonely i might call you mine and bring you back homely.
IF ONLY-----Charles weren't so busy while you
stare at silver spoons and cherub smiles
and cupid calls you home again.
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 1:37 AM UTC
There is a beetle on the high street,
pushing the sun along at a fraction-
0f-a-mile-per-hour. He is pondering
his plans for the summer.
Perhaps different venues?
Perhaps different dung?
But he knows it's all foolishness.
He never goes anywhere.
Then a god falls out of the sky.
Not a particularly large one,
a medium-sized god as far as
they go. Roughly human-
shaped. Not counting those
streaming banners of fire
that pour from his eyes.
Few humans have burning eyes.
A dagger drips from an open
wound and he clenches his
blood (it is his own blood) in his hand.
More are coming he realizes.
All of them. And he's quite
correct. Without trumpets or
lights or choruses or bowls or
scrolls, it starts to rain.
The beetle pauses in his
pilgrimage to survey the
man underneath the god's feet.
A hand in a crater of asphalt
with a keen, nigh-inaudible
wheeze of breath. A cough
and a choke.
And the beetle scuttles on.
They fall from clouds that aren't,
I mean, actually in the sky. They crush
buildings and businessmen, They
eat fountains. They descend into an
unthinkable and unthinking
age like a dizzied chorus that cannot
pick up on the beat. Purple sash
and green helm, They build mountains.
Teeth chip around the clay- the men
and women- like fireworks.
The gods' great works resolve
like a finished slider puzzle, like the
back of the sun. Mannequins watch
the moving marble for a moment.
But the Mutes eventually find a voice,
they shout, they run into the fray.
Tantalus' mouth fills with
wine. The beetle walks around his
head. Sisyphus' back was broken
by a boulder. The poor little fellow
descends into an inferno and
climbs the devil's back like a
Purgative mountaineer. Such struggle,
thinks he, to have to take a detour.
Sky sets fire to the shell pink
sun at night.
The liquid spheres engulf ideas
on a dry stretch of ocean.
Clouds splinter in a victor's hands,
are frozen shut.
and everything sinks back home
in the middle of a wor
Mar 8, 2010
Mar 8, 2010 at 2:32 PM UTC
As I try to muster the verbs or nouns or adjectives and pronouns to construct a simple verbal thought:
I'm at a loss for
wor(l)ds-
You are the
Atlas
To my lost
Wor(l)ds.
Nov 15, 2015
Nov 15, 2015 at 10:35 PM UTC
Sie fragten, weshalb ich schreibe.
Ich habe lange mit meinen Gedanken herumgespielt,
aber meine Mutter hat mich all die Jahre liebevoll gelehrt,
dass man nicht mit sinnlosen Gedanken spielen darf.
Ich habe nachgedacht, bin durch Straßen gerannt,
bin auf Füßen von anderen herumgetrampelt, und
weitergerannt, umgedreht, und ehrlich entschuldigt.
Habe an meinem Stift gekauft – vermummt von Wor-
ten und habe Bruchteile von Radiergummifussel ver-
streut. Habe überall gesucht, in den Strömen des Re-
gens, in den alten Adern der Blätter am Straßenrand,
nicht mal im Bröckeln der Asphaltrillen habe ich ent-
denkt.
Es hatte mich Nächte gekostet, einen Punkt für das
Fragezeichen zu finden;
aber, oh Gott, ich habe den Punkt gefunden, denn
der Punkt liegt in meinem Herzen, ich trage Worte
in meinem Herzen – lauter als mein und dein Herz-
schlag zusammen;
und nun hat mein Herz Ringe unter den Augen.
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 3:51 AM UTC
sailing down
a sunless sea
downward to
infinity
no stars above
to give me hope
or guide me to
an island shore
with every change of course i make
my destin--y
remai-ns unchang---ed
no escape
from this wilderness
no running from this
empti-ne---ss
...da-da-da-dahh
duh da-da da da dahhh
ta-ke
my ha-nd
and come
and come with me
fa--r
so far be-yond
this storm
this stormy sea
rest your weary heart within
leave the wor-ld
behind my friend
you've heard me calling
for a long long time
just take my hand
and you will find...
...da-da-da-dahh
duh da-da da da dahhh
so i turn my ship
into the wind
and fa-ce the tru-th
that i have seen
softly singing
she calls my name
with open arms
i release my pain
and as the sea closes over me
my hea-rt at last finds
ser-en-it---y
... oblivio--n
a broken heart's best frie-nd
ta-ke
my ha-nd
and come
and come with me
fa-r
so far be-yond
this storm
this stormy sea
rest your weary heart within
leave the wor-ld
behind my friend
you've heard me calling
for a long long ti-me
just take my hand
and you will find...
... oblivio--n
a broken heart's best fri-end
so i turn my ship
into the wind
embrace the heart of
obli-vi---on...
"hello friend"
she welcomes me within...
so ta-ke
my ha-nd
and come
and come with me
far
so far bey-ond
this storm
this stormy sea
rest your weary heart within
leave the wor-ld
behind my friend
you've heard me calling
for a long long time
just take my hand
and you will find...
obli-vi-o---n
obli-vi--o---on
obli-vi-o--n
" i'll be your bro-ken hea-rt's
be-st frien--d... "
.
Pic Poem
http://oi57.tinypic.com/10qb7tz.jpg
.
Feb 9, 2018
Feb 9, 2018 at 6:17 PM UTC
I come from a place of empathy
where perceptions
is a mix of colors
of hers, his and their
perspective.
I come from a place of empathy
where ears are made of patience,
drums sensitive to the change in wavelength,
de-weaving complexity
into simplicity.
I come from a place of empathy
where the emotions lacerating
hearts – sliced,
run parallel through me.
You lock into my embrace,
finding the comfort of compassion
amongst the rusty and scraping conditions.
When you project anger, fear, and angst
I start dissecting your past,
your rearing,
justifying and understanding
the origins of the
hand and experiences
that shaped you.
You render your mind open,
as I step in
walk among the stars, darkness
and the turbulent waves crashing within.
Your emotions tingle my skin,
and linger within me
as I understand wor(l)d apart,
developing cross-cultural understanding
and objectifying subjectivity.
Though I begin to understand
the origins, stem of your being,
swaying with your words
and hazing in the paradox of other’s being.
I choose to succumb to gravity,
and remain sturdy on certain beliefs.
Sep 18, 2019
Sep 18, 2019 at 9:11 AM UTC
You hide your hair in the
space above your tucked-away thoughts;
waterfall wor
d
s
that
run
into
strea
m
s
of consciousness
out of red dam lips
and through airy pipes
to my manhole ears,
stepped on and discarded by feet and prams
for century's years.
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 8:13 AM UTC
Wor(l)ds cross pollinate, it seems,
our most modern thoughts
reflect ancient minds, if so
words lose or gain meaning?
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 10:56 AM UTC
words:
crystallized fragments
containing reality
(and unreality as well)
driven by a Logic unable
to prove its own existence.
worlds:
you exist in one;
"the Universe"
which is
everything that [n]ever was[n't]:
the moon, the sea,
space, eternity
you and me,
this poem
and the Universe is also a word
which is contained in this poem
and thus in your mind
a word contains the world
in which lives the person reading this poem
that holds
the wor(l)d
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 2:38 PM UTC
i used to play hide and seek with my querencia
(or did it, with me?)
games are captivating for the young soul
where play is forever and
pain is a dream upon a dream
and perhaps
i hid behind too many walls
and stole away from its heart
one time too many
and one day- i lost it. my favourite spot
(loss tastes like the colour of the rain.)
wirra
that is how you describe the goodbyes that were never said
(and even that is not enough)
so you try to forget and the walls you used to play behind
become shields. and barriers.
physical representations of my farewell.
then one day i discovered a different wor(l)d
the bonjour to the au revoir that querencia never left me with
it is all i could ever want
(words are not enough and the dictionary lies)
because my definition of serendipity,
is you.
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 9:26 PM UTC
creates our universe
our gods
makes armies clash
defines our world
always again and new
names everything
we then can talk about
lets politicians sound as if
they were our saviors
lends voice to protests
also well-phrased obedience
articulates all complicated laws
and sometimes even makes them clear
makes us hate people
or fall crazily in love with them
more difficult, it seems,
is to find words for our hearts and souls
how to express your love
appropriate to the occasion
or to describe a painting by Degas,
Rubens, Kokoschka, Michelangelo,
the impact of a symphony
or a performance on the drama stage
to catch the words for what we feel
is much more difficult
than to imagine those for what we see
it is the poets’ challenge to give shape
to all the hopes, loves, fears, and phantasies
in our lives
so we can make the power of the word
the power of the world
May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 3:56 PM UTC
Come I’, Sit daahn, Shurrup,
Wor t' fust thin 'a' ah 'eard.
So ah grabbed uz buk fra t' back.
‘n prepared for summa’ absurd
An exam ont’ fust day ah exclaimed!
As uz face exploded wi’ rage
Ah dead eyed ‘im fra across t’ room
‘n reluctantly turned t’ page
T’ year continued like ‘dis,
‘n uz nem appeared ont’ board
‘n ta quote wah’ I’d learnt fra’ uz studies,
Ah felt wretched ‘n abhorred
Tahhm passed by,
‘n 'e 'n class began ta connect.
n suddenly 'a' dislikin,
turned inter respect.
Tahhm went furtha,
as 'e yelled 'n laughed 'n cussed,
‘n suddenly ‘a’ respect,
turned inter complete trust.
‘e’d lern wee randa facts,
‘n sha wee gormless vids.
'e’d respect wee li' adults,
'n nivva' treat wee li' kids.
'n even when ah wor glum,
‘n wasn’t feelin missen,
‘e’d finn' eur way ta use 'is words
ta nurse uz back ta 'ealth.
‘n when 'e sez 'e wor leavin, everybody’s 'eart cried,
We didn’t want ta seh tarreur,
teur t' bloke who’d bin ah guide
Sa t' best we can doa is come togetha,
‘n gatha orl wee folks.
'n wish t' best o' luck ta ah ‘un 'n onny,
Yorksha bloke.
Apr 24, 2019
Apr 24, 2019 at 3:35 PM UTC
When times get
Hard, the going gets writing.
And the times are hard, but
Things get worst before they get any better.
As a bruise is when it's healing.
Coming from a young person with no where to go,
As I run from this creature.
This big, dark creature who's
Chasing me, there's no where to
Hide, or so it thinks...
Down the street...nope, it's right behind me.
On the roof...nah, it's there too.
No where to turn,
No where to go, oh but wait...
I got my secret place, but **** it! It's
Even there as well--in my writing. In my place.
Feb 7, 2011
Feb 7, 2011 at 11:49 AM UTC
FAILURE. NO GOOD. NOTHING. WORTHLESS.
LOSER. FAILURE. NO GOOD. NOTHING. WOR
THLESS. LOSER. FAILURE. NO GOOD. NOTHIN
G. WORTH
LESS. LOSE
R. FAILURE.
NO GOOD.
NOTHING. WORTHLESS. LOSE
R. FAILURE. NO GOOD. NOTH
ING. WORTHLESS. LOSER. **FAIL
URE.** NO G
OOD. NOT
HING. WO
RTHLESS. L
OSER. **FAIL
URE.** NO G
OOD. NOT
HING. WO
RTHLESS.
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 4:34 PM UTC
some people say
i am an alcoholic
but i always say
i do work like a dog! wor-kahol-ic
i hate violence
coz i do love silence
i hate arguement
coz i do love agreement
people say some
unwholesome talks
but it's okay folks
just do what makes you awesome
i'd rather like detractor's flee
who made them selves so true
and i won't like to disagree with those false praisers
as long as they aren't doing my dislikes
say some people
whose being honest
now and then whom stats are triple-double
treasure them cheerfully in most valuable persons
no matter how they jumbled your word play
just show your moves with an exciting foreplay
express your self on and off poetry but don't become the cause of delay
for sincere Poets Surely save Poem Scripted on their simultaneous Poetic Soul
yours truly,
solEmn
Post Script :
when i come back
i am gonna be posting....
" the cycle of eternity "
Jan 20, 2016
Jan 20, 2016 at 10:17 AM UTC
geese soar
as if they
have nothing
to wor ry about
they just
fly in
the shape
of a
V
Mar 1, 2019
Mar 1, 2019 at 8:44 AM UTC
as always, i have been reading poems new to me,
by poets also new to me.
while my eyes caressed each word as if it were the last orb of breathe of the last flower to freeze in the winter,
the engines in my dingy brain halted, without warning.
without any obvious street sign or road block.
but then the pearl of a thought latched itself to me, became apart of me.
and for days now i have been molding this thought in my hands as a preschooler using a new tube a playdoh would.
my fingers manipulated the string of words,
maybe this will wor- no no maybe if i pinch this here it wi- no no no
no
no
no
NO
so, i decided to come flat out and bring to life the embryo of an idea of a thought that was swelling and letting water into my brain.
who is the "you"?
yes, i said it who the hell is the "you"?
i have seen it is the best and most famous poets' poems,
i have even seen it in my own.
the "you".
who is your "you"?
you know, example: when you write a poem and instead of saying "Sam" (your ex you haven't gotten over) you just put the word "you" instead?
look at these:
Sam kissed my eyelids,
but Sam only kissed them so i wouldn't see his lies.
and you turn it into:
You kissed my eyelids,
but you only kissed them so i wouldn't see your lies.
another example:
the "you" in this poem is, well, you.
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 3:29 PM UTC
Fold me up in the spool of your throat
Rhyme and quote, spun around your voice box
The wheel locks as beauty talks about
singing me out, spinning me out.
All you have said
turns me from wool to
golden thread.
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 6:53 PM UTC
sa
yn
ota
wor
dor
)don
'ts
a
ya
words
m
o
u
t
h(h
o
W)about
how
in
winter
slep
th
ard
ly a
letter
ofy
ourbody.but
(with a verb i
you
the aching
and all the birds
of a forest
leapt
from
SLUMBEr
and rose
upon
the crimp
of darling youth
a flower,
,
.
,
,
.
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 11:03 PM UTC
I would have loved
For you to be here
Right now
With me
As I am lost between
Fragments of moments
And as my thoughts get tangled
Everytime I try to put them into
Wor(l)ds
Come and go
Leaving me awake
In-betweens
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 3:37 PM UTC
wunteim i sad to mee mumu wor i *** gee
shaggie sakid we nood to do de smokeng
i sed noo is a bood goy
Sep 12, 2017
Sep 12, 2017 at 9:21 AM UTC
lay
down right nex
t
o
there sleep well
and sleeep tightttttttt
dream soft
dream
brig
ht
words kill words bite
time flies
time hurts
your Hair
your per
fect
face
like a sun
shining
some
where
wor
ds
am
i am
i know
to seed the
farm
and let the bodies
let them go
and let me go
i'll be right there
to see it through and throw my hands right through your hair andc cry out yes and hold you close and put your lips right on my mouth
and eject
...
hold
me
close
...
and
go
away
i
now
i'm
lonely
on
vicarious
envy
you
only
you only you only you only you only you only you only you only you only you only
love me
...
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 3:30 PM UTC