there are million of words
left unsaid inside this gut.
similar to every volcanoes,
there will be
                      time
for this gut(ter) to blow up,
burst of processed thoughts
that kept inside for yearlong.
whether you like it or not,
give a **** or not,
ain't no **** were given


'cause it's about the time.

See, as the carver carves a rose,
A wing, a toad, a serpent's eye,
In cruel granite, to disclose
The soft things that in hardness lie,
So this one, taking up his heart,
Which time and change had made a stone,
Carved out of it with dolorous art,
Laboring yearlong and alone,
The thing there hidden-rose, toad, wing?
A frog's hand on a lily pad?
Bees in a cobweb?-no such thing!
A girl's head was the thing he had,
Small, shapely, richly crowned with hair,
Drowsy, with eyes half closed, as they
Looked through you and beyond you, clear
To something farther than Cathay:
Saw you, yet counted you not worth
The seeing, thinking all the while
How, flower-like, beauty comes to birth;
And thinking this, began to smile.
Medusa! For she could not see
The world she turned to stone and ash.
Only herself she saw, a tree
That flowered beneath a lightning-flash.
Thus dreamed her face-a lovely thing
To worship, weep for, or to break . . .
Better to carve a claw, a wing,
Or, if the heart provide, a snake.

Four hour drive to Nevada
Long *** drive I knew, I should've had some *****.
No traffic, just a bunch of rear view lights displayed as stars.
No sight seeing, just mountains and lame *** cars.

Music plays, and laughter took place.
I sang to keep the drowsiness off my face.
We encountered some dips,
And I began to dance; but didn't move below the hips.

Mainly listened to hip hop,
That kind of rhythm you cant just stop.
You gotta dance all throughout to the last note.
Even if someone sees you dance and prays for an antidote.

We arrived to our destination close to midnight.
Once my body touched the bed, I no longer saw light.
Only to wake at four in the morning,
Laying in bed breathing and writing.

Seven forty five small black box starts to yell.
My family woke up, and made our way out of the hotel.
Set course to the lake then hopped on a boat.
Sailed to a shore that wasn't remote.

My aunt's family is pretty cool and chill.
Their boats and seadoo made the weekend that much more of a thrill.
The food and drinks never seemed to end.
I climbed a cliff and prepped for my descend.

Jumping into black water,
On our way back, scolded by my uncle as if he were my father.
I didn't get mad, with my adrenaline, I never know when to stop.
So I listened and never went back to the hilltop.  

Chief took his boat back in with a big floating device.
Oscar told me to hold on, that was his only advice.
I haven't smiled so much in so long.
That's how it should be all yearlong.

Touching land again, my existence was then recorded.
The video was sent to my mother to show I wasn't wounded.
The water began to call my name, so I entered it's depths.
The water touched my skin like a cool breeze kiss.

Going back to Aquarius, we were burnt as hell.
I'm sure we stood out more than Wisconsin's well known carousel.
Showered then went out to eat.
Returning back to the room to sleep cause I was beat.

I met this girl named E with much more consonants and vowels.
Saying I jumped from a kiddy cliff, her words played constantly in the back of my head like howls.
Well E, I love my life and get injured on the daily.
I can only imagine myself screaming like a little baby.

I mean there has to be a reason those rocks are carved out like skulls.
I've climbed trees higher than that castle.
But jumping such height, I'm not sure I can do.
But if I do jump and the light vanishes who will come to my rescue?

Packed up our gear and headed back to our room.
My uncle and I stayed in, but my aunt changed into another costume.
Drank a beer then fell asleep.
Woke up to the sound of my heartbeat.

Two hours later and there was still no sound.
Looked out the window and there was no one around.
My cousin woke, and began to talk.
My fam got up and we began our walk.

I swam for a good two hours.
My aunt, cousin, and I got on a raft; I kid you not we should've gone to the doctors.
Tia skipped on water, my prima broke her finger, and I coughed blood.
Hell I'd go to the ER, if and only if all my trips were funded.
This trip I'll never forget,
That goes for the teal water, and the red pink sunset.

after his lips
brazed mine, i understood what
churches meant to saints;
death and rebirth and homecoming and
ease. the artistry of our
flesh meeting flesh,
gentle grassroot heartbeats finding
heaven in the moles on our shoulders, our
inner thighs. he hums a hymn of becoming and i
join the chorus: a
kingdom of quiet wednesdays and
leaving forget-me-nots on my pillowcase to bloom.
murmurous, he sweetens my melancholy; our
naked bodies left bare to the seasons,
over and over again, unafraid. i
part my gracious fingers and
quilt for him a makeshift
rosebush beneath blue eyes and
summery glances. our
testimony is this:
underneath july starlight,
victory is found in the
warmth of our
xanthic chapel; a
yearlong love story left
zen in our delicate rapture

Once upon a time in spring
While red roses aroused in flowering
A seed was planted
A prime source for
A coming fount of love

What better time than now?
For Our roots to rise upward
As We become entangled
Twisting to break free from the ground
Hatching the stem to bring Us to light

We arise to the welcoming sun
Standing before the lake below
Our senses tingling in anticipation
Of the emotion before Us

To find love We must begin
To take the plunge
So take my hand
We'll jump the cliff and
Wake the water and
Submerse Ourselves in each other

Now lust has commenced and
We've birthed Our commitment
With each rejuvenating gesture
As companions We climb closer
To the surface of Our desire

Soon summer sighs
As We lock eyes laying in the grass
A vibrance of color surrounds
A resounding chorus of nature and laughter all around

The sun can hide behind the clouds
Because Your smile shines
Eventually the heat will break that shroud
But not now

We have saved the daylight
Sealing each moment with Our lips
We are the finest development
Of what it feels to find perfection

Or so We both thought
With Our bodies in a bind
Our future is what We had and fought for
We are beauty prior to decline

The breeze is blowing through Our sentiment
A crisp bite of a coming closing cold
We still held on tight to it

But we sank and resurfaced and
Burned Our adoration unknown
Of the fast fall

Autumn sets in
Bringing an aura that hangs
As the harvest yields nothing for Us

Our hearts remain aligned
But restlessness runs through the back of Our minds
We couldn't foresee Our experience would have consequence
We moved too quick while jumping to conclusions

When We're in need
The speed of living only happens at one pace
With a chance meeting
We are now reaping what We've sown

If We could have seen the repercussions
That would inevitably sprout from that seed
Would We return to our lonely buried discussions?
Be sure to never allow results like these again

Instead Our memories cling to the trees
With each leaf falling one by one
Every kiss and embrace suffocating the earth
The temperature spirals steadily downward

The first winter frost befalls Us
The flakes descending to
Freeze Our feelings in time

We follow fate
We decline

Drifting away
Drowning in Our decay
Of snow and ice that
Finally took the life and
Left Us alone again

Our dreary adversity was over
In cold inertia
We are still in the night

Spring showers fed budding love
Summer gave time to grow
But in autumn it seemed appropriate We'd fall and
Hit a weeping winter wall

These patterns repeat
Maybe We rushed and
Shouldn't have hurried

We dove so deep into We
It worked well periodically
But We were suffocating

Our eyes began wandering
Our questions and thoughts
Recurring

Was it worth it?
A yearlong parallel of the weather
We parted ways in frigid fashion
But there's always another new coming season

So as the sky now sprinkles it's mist
The scent of soil rises to replenish
I carve a bed into this ground once more and
Wait for the next shower
To bring me a mate with whom I can share this flower

Her attractive skin, mostly bare, in any clime looks alabaster,
Her heart, dark, envious green granite, rarely seen anywhere
had a hole drilled to pass right through it's coarse middle,
quite befitting for a 'crown crusted cobra', to snuggle within,
and inhabit, perfectly concealed, day and night, yearlong,
not on the eye shot of the prying world, it would remain
the unknown secret at the core of her enigmatic, existence.

Her eyes, shimmering embers of coal would entice,
any one smitten by desire, who dares to look at her face,
that vision of her from the very first sight remains frozen
though warped by spherical error,  incorrigible!
Her slur sounds music to her fawning admirers.
She was a metaphor, for a perfect baneful construct.

Fields
of my
ancestors
-stalks of
cane sugar-
surrounding

It yields
yearlong:
for the sun
-garish- in
its wake
leaves thirst
quick
to slake

a lonely heart
thinks of the girl with eyes like diamonds in the rain,
and her eyelashes that float like dandelions.

thinks of the day
she ****** the warmth from the sky,
and watched the sunset down her throat.
her tongue broke like waves on the shoreline,
“I don’t know if I love you.”

lies awake,
up late, on a yearlong night
pouring alcohol,
trying to put his pain to rest,
only to watch his wounds erupt into fire,
and give birth to
a child caught in a trap of burning bones,
waiting for someone to hold him and say, “I know you.”

he wanders a desert,
chasing mirages, that are only clouds of text messages,
that swarm like nagging mosquitos,
before vultures pick him apart.
and he knows
no one wants to adopt homeless shadows
before the dawn.
and now,
deep behind the ribbed gates of his chest,
his veins are snakes in the garden.
looking to eat the end of
a lonely heart.

Sweet Sixteen Years

<••>

had to get the calculator
cause this brain refused
this math,

2024 - 2008 ‎ = 16

yearlong furlongs
a dustance existential
impossibility:

She selected me from the
millions of riffraf looking
for a living romantic love,
which perhaps while
not a complete miracle,
but something, that had
been as elusively beautiful
as a running back shedding
11 tacklers and well,
scoring a touching down
(n.b. it’s a Sunday)

a touchdown elusive
and once thought,
a deluded inconclusive
belief from the realm of
music and poetry,
an aberrant belief
in a life of mundane
and oft much pain

that periodically stubbed
one’s toes with streaks of
sparks, but never was carded
for one who had not
learned
the definition
of longer
lasting,
open ended,
unimaginable,
genuine
to expect, believe
that it was a
validity,
nothing but a
legal fiction
never to be a word in
my finishing diminishing
vocabulary

there will be no candlelight
dinner, no popping corks,
no mad jewelry hidden in refrigerator,
maybe just some
outshine lemonade icicle popsicles,
a modest treat
for an e-xtra oh-never-ordinary
travelogue with no final
destination penned in
blue-black ink

for the record:

she picked me out,
she came late to
our first date,
and fully agreed
on a third date,
that commitment
was a pressure
neither desired,
agreeing with a
hearty high five

so here she is,
always a present,
always an available
sujet for one more
onlylovepoem
to scribe, and
complain
how a poet goes
on and on and on

which is a reminder to self
to quit writing too much
when there is still a
tomorrow to add to this
poem

I find the beggar’s face happier than me
At the street corner where I see him daily
In unkempt hair and stretched shriveled palm
He doesn’t look as ruffled or as me bereft calm!

He isn’t a bit perturbed none asks him his name
Not complains of clothes barely hiding his shame
Holds on to a lingering smile never leaving his face
Gathers besides the coins comes whatever happiness!

Scar him wrathful season’s sun storm and rain
Yearlong his beggar’s toil keeps him in the open
Yet never stalks his face the slightest trace of gloom
The dark shades of despair like on my face loom!

The moment you fill his palm he bows in courtesy
Reciprocates with blesses for you and family
I have seen him sharing crumbs with the dog on street
Showing there’s a good heart a mind that is sweet!

I find the beggar’s face far happier than me
Admire him but more than that I do him envy
Don’t doubt it and I'm ready to lay a wager
I cannot be as happy as that street side beggar!

i kept this love for you hidden in my veins like drugs or alcohol, like you could just find it on my breath if i leaned in too close or too soon. i blink and i hear your voice/feel your touch. i blink and i can almost rewind to those sweet winter days, the spring, the summer, the days you called me beautiful. falling for you was not seasonal. it was yearlong and so heavy lidded and blissful.

i still want to grow old with you. i want to ask you, “honey, did you feed the fish?” i want to go on our one hundredth date and still get butterflies. i want to look into those beautiful eyes and know that right then, right there, i’m looking at my whole ******* world. i want to wake up with your body so tangled with mine we could be mistaken for a singular, otherworldly being. i want to come home later in the day and tell you about my day at work as i’m in the recliner and you’re massaging my shoulders. i want the purest softest love the universe can muster.

you make me sure of one thing, and that is that love transcends. period.

everything about you is a reminder of what love is to me. and i want to protect that love more than anything in the world, okay?

The universe makes random jokes 
Like, to know me is a curse 
My personalities make it worse.

The introvert in me is ugly painted with gloomy clouds, stalking demons in the alley loves to mourn as a firstborn sick With numb eyes flick,
tears don't exist anymore.

The extrovert in me is silly painted with colours people never been seen, his smile is flawless and always wander around clueless about why he smiles.

The **** in me is a song or people like to call it wrong, a yearlong gong he writes 'lol' in people's wall with a fluffy cloud inside his brain, 
it reads tetrahydrocannabinol, 
notorious for his vocabulary,
can **** with an epistolary.

The Dib is a broken rib, spoon-feed bib 
He writes out of syllabus with sketchy nib,
runs in a solo trip his life says 'rofl'.

©sarcasticbong

huddled beneath the *****, dark alleys of the past
there's a girl
rubbing her hands together
for a semblance of warmth

the cold bites deep
through bare clothing
chilling her to the bone

as the frost flurries through
and bright Christmas trees
set her eyes alight

she shakily pulls a small
matchbook
from her pocket

with a breath,
she mutters a prayer
and strikes the match
to watch it burn
one last time

the flame wavers
but continues to burn
'till there is no fuel left

just as the light dies
she, too, dies

and the ghosts come
to take her hand
to a safer place
where it's Christmas yearlong
and warm embraces await

for the little match girl has left
for somewhere, something beyond our reach

Let me evade myself into the Beauty of your heart
Where the Roses are Red and Rose all the yearlong
Let me breath the air from your Lungs
Where only pure air can be dragged from
Let me explore the beat of your Heart
Where every beat Sounds similar
To the syllables of my name
Let me Get lost in your Voice
Where the ocean of passion screams words like,
                         Oh Love,
                                          My Love

Absent arburn air
Baffled beautiful boughs
Causing chaotic conflicts
During dead days
Even erethreal energy
Forged forgetful fiends
Greatful greactious gains
Handed handwritten hearts
Instead intricate idiocy
Joined jumping jesters
Keeping kites killed
Leaving lonely listeners
Mourning more music
Nourishing nothing new
Overtime opening options
Presented painfully personal
Questioning quaint qualities
Returning resourcefully righteous
Simply slauted seriously
Tempting tireless tapestry
Usually using updateable
Volumptuos ****** value
With wanted water
Xaern xany xenatious
Yearns yearlong yet
Zappy zazzy zanyism

As armed ants advance
Beautifully beyond blasted borders,
Crazed caterpillars create
Demoralizing defenses
Engineered effectively.
Fiery fights form
Gracefully. Gleaming gear
Hints hardily
In ill-prepared insect incisors.
Jowls juice. Just
Keep killing. Keep killing.
Lordly lust leaps, leading
Maniacal maggots mercilessly.
Not nearly neat nature now. Nasty new-horror negates
Original order. Overlords order;
Paternal pressure pokes
Quills quintessential,
Reaching re-riled responders. Rest rowdily royal
Slaves. Soon shrill sounds shout silently. Sun-break signals
Too-terrifying travesty
Under umbrella’d
Vulcanism. Voracious vulgarities
Wrap war wistfully whilst
Xeroxed Xanadus
Yearn yearlong. Yawing
Zephyrus’ zeppelin: zephyrs zoom zilched zealots.

As all are against auspicious atrocities, agitating aspirants arbitrate astounding audience,
Blow by blow breaking brown bricks brings barbarous battle because blue birds break bad bottles,
Clicking clocks cover cocktail coffee converging corners calling cakewalk cobwebs commercially,
Dancing dolls drink diluted droplets drowning deep digging diversifying didactic doctorates,
Enriching eulogy edifies every evaluator easily energetically emitting extra efforts efficiently,
Fleeting floppies fully fascinated flop frolic fantasy for forgetting farewell fashion falsely,
Girls going gliding gymnastics goggling goals gripped glittering gestures gaining gracelessly,
High heels horrify hectic horses hurrying heedlessly hitting hot hotels harshly,
Intuitive ideology intensified in ink ideas illustratively immersed in illusive ice,
Jack judges jugglers juggling judiciously jumping jelly just jotting juicy jam,
Kaleidoscopic kettle kicking knight killing kite knocking Kentucky’s knot,
Lollipop ladies looking like lovely locusts lingering loose lips largely,
Mocking monkey munches marigold molecules marching marvelously,
Nightly naughty nymphs narrate nautical notes nine notches necking necklaces,
Obviously obscure obesity obtains oriental origami organizing Orlando’s oration,
Pinky pig punches paper *** pulling plaits powerfully putting pretty pens,
Queens queuing quickly quarterly quantum queer quagmire,
Ripples revolting rides revolving right rigorously raising rings round,
Silver stallion struggles striding straight showing somersaults shaking shells,
Tadpole tornadoes torture tinkering tumbler tickling tiny thistles,
Umbrella utopia ushers utility utensils unimaginably under usurping unity,
Vanishing vanity velocity vulnerably vindicates valuable vessel,
Warbling wobbles worry waves wantonly whitewashing walls wastefully,
Xylophone X-mas ‘xpresses’ xiphoid xebec xeroxing xylan xylite,
Youthful yearning yields yearlong yellow yachts yelping yolks,
Zealous zephyr zoologically zigzagging zinc zippering zillion.

Drop by  drop  i saw
Shedding  in  the  leaves of leaping  flame
Have   you seen deadpan tears ?
They are  melt of   .  
Broken fire  ,broken dreams ,and broken soul .
All my little  eyes saw in  bruised broken  bangles.
My little  heart  balked  to  revolt ,but too  much was her endurance !
It was  not a tale  of  yearlong ,
But  long  a  long
So long that nobody  want  to  remember
Even  my  pen don’t want  to  spread  much ink
As it brings a flood of  red tears  in black  December .

Dr  Pragya  Suman
copyright@pragya suman