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"yellower" poems
Memory of sun seeps from the heart. Grass grows yellower. Faintly if at all the early snowflakes Hover, hover. Water becoming ice is slowing in The narrow channels. Nothing at all will happen here again, Will ever happen. Against the sky the willow spreads a fan The silk's torn off. Maybe it's better I did not become Your wife. Memory of sun seeps from the heart. What is it? -- Dark? Perhaps! Winter will have occupied us In the night.
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Memory Of Sun
Sleep, darling I have a small daughter called Cleis, who is like a golden flower I wouldn't take all Croesus' kingdom with love thrown in, for her --- Don't ask me what to wear I have no embroidered headband from Sardis to give you, Cleis, such as I wore and my mother always said that in her day a purple ribbon looped in the hair was thought to be high style indeed but we were dark: a girl whose hair is yellower than torchlight should wear no headdress but fresh flowers
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Cleis
What can you say about Pennsylvania in regard to New England except that it is slightly less cold, and less rocky, or rather that the rocks are different? Redder, and gritty, and piled up here and there, whether as glacial moraine or collapsed springhouse is not easy to tell, so quickly are human efforts bundled back into nature. In fall, the trees turn yellower- hard maple, hickory, and oak give way to tulip poplar, black walnut, and locust. The woods are overgrown with wild-grape vines, and with greenbrier spreading its low net of anxious small claws. In warm November, the mulching forest floor smells like a rotting animal. A genial pulpiness, in short: the sky is soft with haze and paper-gray even as the sun shines, and the rain falls soft on the shoulders of farmers while the children keep on playing, their heads of hair beaded like spider webs. A deep-dyed blur softens the bleak cities whose people palaver in prolonged vowels. There is a secret here, some death-defying joke the eyes, the knuckles, the bellies imply- a suet of consolation fetched straight from the slaughterhouse and hung out for chickadees to peck in the lee of the spruce, where the husks of sunflower seeds and the peace-signs of bird feet crowd the snow that barely masks the still-green grass. I knew that secret once, and have forgotten. The death-defying secret-it rises toward me like a dog's gaze, loving but bewildered. When winter sits cold and black slumped between its two polluted rivers, warmth's shadow leans close to the wall and gets the cement to deliver a kiss.
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Returning Native
What can you say about Pennsylvania in regard to New England except that it is slightly less cold, and less rocky, or rather that the rocks are different? Redder, and gritty, and piled up here and there, whether as glacial moraine or collapsed springhouse is not easy to tell, so quickly are human efforts bundled back into nature. In fall, the trees turn yellower- hard maple, hickory, and oak give way to tulip poplar, black walnut, and locust. The woods are overgrown with wild-grape vines, and with greenbrier spreading its low net of anxious small claws. In warm November, the mulching forest floor smells like a rotting animal. A genial pulpiness, in short: the sky is soft with haze and paper-gray even as the sun shines, and the rain falls soft on the shoulders of farmers while the children keep on playing, their heads of hair beaded like spider webs. A deep-dyed blur softens the bleak cities whose people palaver in prolonged vowels. There is a secret here, some death-defying joke the eyes, the knuckles, the bellies imply- a suet of consolation fetched straight from the slaughterhouse and hung out for chickadees to peck in the lee of the spruce, where the husks of sunflower seeds and the peace-signs of bird feet crowd the snow that barely masks the still-green grass. I knew that secret once, and have forgotten. The death-defying secret-it rises toward me like a dog's gaze, loving but bewildered. When winter sits cold and black slumped between its two polluted rivers, warmth's shadow leans close to the wall and gets the cement to deliver a kiss.
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250 I shall keep singing! Birds will pass me On their way to Yellower Climes— Each—with a Robin’s expectation— I—with my Redbreast— And my Rhymes— Late—when I take my place in summer— But—I shall bring a fuller tune— Vespers—are sweeter than Matins—Signor— Morning—only the seed of Noon—
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I shall keep singing!
1676 Of Yellow was the outer Sky In Yellower Yellow hewn Till Saffron in Vermilion slid Whose seam could not be shewn.
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Of Yellow was the outer Sky
Darkness as black as your eyelid, poketricks of stars, the yellow mouth, the smell of a stranger, dawn coming up, dark blue, no stars, the smell of a love, warmer now as authenic as soap, wave after wave of lightness and the birds in their chains going mad with throat noises, the birds in their tracks yelling into their cheeks like clowns, lighter, lighter, the stars gone, the trees appearing in their green hoods, the house appearing across the way, the road and its sad macadam, the rock walls losing their cotton, lighter, lighter, letting the dog out and seeing fog lift by her legs, a gauze dance, lighter, lighter, yellow, blue at the tops of trees, more God, more God everywhere, lighter, lighter, more world everywhere, sheets bent back for people, the strange heads of love and breakfast, that sacrament, lighter, yellower, like the yolk of eggs, the flies gathering at the windowpane, the dog inside whining for good and the day commencing, not to die, not to die, as in the last day breaking, a final day digesting itself, lighter, lighter, the endless colors, the same old trees stepping toward me, the rock unpacking its crevices, breakfast like a dream and the whole day to live through, steadfast, deep, interior. After the death, after the black of black, the lightness,- not to die, not to die- that God begot.
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The Fury Of Sunrises
I sat in my veranda A mellow sun shining above me Its light, blinking - still drowsy from a restful night Clouds, like cars of cotton rushing past - going who knows where... The trees creaking and sighing, dancing a hypnotic dance The birds singing their ballad, of times long gone Suddenly - a scent caressed my nose Like a cruel flirt, touched me and vanished Leaving me breathless I heard my heart beat - thum.......thum...thum It got louder - thum! thum! thum! No! not my heartbeat, I heard drums Drums, playing a primal song I saw...I saw mountains high and mighty Decked with vivid paintings Of a different way of life I saw streams, rushing past The cold water sprinkled my face with soft kisses I saw forests, dark and deep No doubt home to Wood Elves,Nymphs, Wizards and Witches and beasts with wings and horns I saw silver ruins, fallen walls Vines and ivy creeping over them, vein-like A lonely banner hung on one of the walls Old and tattered, yet still regal and proud Fluttering in the wind, it spoke to me Of horse's hooves, armour clad knights, oaths being taken, oaths being broken, Clashing of swords, a time long gone... Suddenly - a scent hit my nose A scent, rough and urban And there it was - a metal beast Yellower then the summer sun Groaning with indignation It rushed past Leaving a trail of black smoke and dust And there I sat, in my veranda Searching frantically for another glimpse Of that wonderful land In vain...
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Aug 25, 2018
Aug 25, 2018 at 4:23 AM UTC
A Glimpse
I’ve spent the last year inspecting my ceiling. Every night or free afternoon, I crawl into bed. My massive, hopelessly needing bed. And I lie on my crooked spine and stare at it. I think it changes everyday based on how lucid my dreaming is I suppose I could say that about anything these days though, couldn’t I? That everything changes based on my perceptions of life. Or just based on how tuned into reality I am. It’s a funny thought. My ceiling is eggshell white. I remember picking out what white I wanted with my mum in the hardware store. “Ivory or snow?” I don’t care, mum. “Well it makes a difference you know.” No it doesn’t, mum. “You say that now but, we will come home with snow you’ll realize you wanted a yellower tinge and we should have gotten ivory.” Fine, get ivory then. “I think we have egg shell in the basement. Let’s save us the trouble and use that.” So we did. And now whenever I crawl into a state of disillusion and forget what the world is supposed to feel like under your fingernails or through your hair when you’re sitting in the sun, this is what I see. An eggshell ceiling. Which, in retrospect, sounds graciously poetic. Sometimes I wonder if it’s possible to concentrate so hard that you become lighter than air and float up into my ceiling. I fear that the eggshell colour influences how durable it is. As if it literally might be eggshells and I could burst through it and keep going, further and further until no one can find me. Maybe if we had bought ivory that day in the hardware store it would be tougher and hold me in. But, honestly, I don’t know which is scarier. To be trapped, safely bound, into my room by the ceiling above me Or drift aimlessly until I hit a satellite dish or even just an airplane or tangled in a kite and fall back into the great atmosphere. I wonder where I’d land. I wonder where I’d end up if I just started to drift. Would anyone notice? Of course they would, how foolish of me. A giant gaping hole in my fragile ceiling. Even if no one went in my room I’m sure they’d notice when the rain that fell through the hole started to flood my room and leak out from under the door. I wonder what the world sounds like from so high. I wonder if it’s noisy up there. I wonder what colour your ceiling is when I lay there now. I hope that it’s eggshell. Or cotton ball, or wedding veil. Something you could tear through and drift through until you found me. ******* hell, I want you to find me.* I’ve spent the last year inspecting my ceiling. I haven’t found anything interesting out about anything since I started
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Aug 22, 2011
Aug 22, 2011 at 8:31 PM UTC
Eggshells
I’ve spent the last year inspecting my ceiling. Every night or free afternoon, I crawl into bed. My massive, hopelessly needing bed. And I lie on my crooked spine and stare at it. I think it changes everyday based on how lucid my dreaming is I suppose I could say that about anything these days though, couldn’t I? That everything changes based on my perceptions of life. Or just based on how tuned into reality I am. It’s a funny thought. My ceiling is eggshell white. I remember picking out what white I wanted with my mum in the hardware store. “Ivory or snow?” I don’t care, mum. “Well it makes a difference you know.” No it doesn’t, mum. “You say that now but, we will come home with snow you’ll realize you wanted a yellower tinge and we should have gotten ivory.” Fine, get ivory then. “I think we have egg shell in the basement. Let’s save us the trouble and use that.” So we did. And now whenever I crawl into a state of disillusion and forget what the world is supposed to feel like under your fingernails or through your hair when you’re sitting in the sun, this is what I see. An eggshell ceiling. Which, in retrospect, sounds graciously poetic. Sometimes I wonder if it’s possible to concentrate so hard that you become lighter than air and float up into my ceiling. I fear that the eggshell colour influences how durable it is. As if it literally might be eggshells and I could burst through it and keep going, further and further until no one can find me. Maybe if we had bought ivory that day in the hardware store it would be tougher and hold me in. But, honestly, I don’t know which is scarier. To be trapped, safely bound, into my room by the ceiling above me Or drift aimlessly until I hit a satellite dish or even just an airplane or tangled in a kite and fall back into the great atmosphere. I wonder where I’d land. I wonder where I’d end up if I just started to drift. Would anyone notice? Of course they would, how foolish of me. A giant gaping hole in my fragile ceiling. Even if no one went in my room I’m sure they’d notice when the rain that fell through the hole started to flood my room and leak out from under the door. I wonder what the world sounds like from so high. I wonder if it’s noisy up there. I wonder what colour your ceiling is when I lay there now. I hope that it’s eggshell. Or cotton ball, or wedding veil. Something you could tear through and drift through until you found me. ******* hell, I want you to find me.* I’ve spent the last year inspecting my ceiling. I haven’t found anything interesting out about anything since I started
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A dilapidated high school bathroom all white tile and despair rubbed into the grout yellower than my stained teeth There's boys ************ in the stall next to me I try to quietly read the news (of your assassination) but walls are being torn down whether I like it or not I pay the attendant in nickels and dimes when I say I'm sorry I see it's been your face this entire time I'm tired of looking for things not there You raise a single slight finger, pointed to the showers I cannot even imagine the pain held within the walls of your home I concede Closing my eyes inside this dream I use my hands to find the corners my fingers looking for a way inside I thought I found something I did. You sitting, naked, cowering hands hiding your eyes from the reality of everything unfolding before you. This sordid game of peek-a-boo.
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Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 2:55 PM UTC
Wet Nightmare
chatter downwind fills up the glass baubles strung from the ceiling and Zak shifts back and forth older and yellower, still angry as ever but Kynlee softens him with her wide eyes and inquiring gaze, one leg to the next, a sudden raucous behind the white paned doors, but the crickets find their way back into the hum-- Sometimes it just gets to be too much he says, and we both look across the way where a sliver of his wife can be seen in the evening glow-- and I don't answer him because we are no longer children with a response for everything, or teenagers with an affinity for bragging two adults with financed metabolisms and organized problems more chatter, a bit of song. I am the last unmarried sibling. I loll back on my heels and press in to the quick air between us yeah, I say.     yeah.
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Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 9:29 PM UTC
Still Angry.
Have you noticed How throughout the day The light changes? In the morning It is pale. Somewhere around noon It becomes Warmer Yellower? After that It becomes more And more Orange Finally ending at night With the orange street lights. It's like a lifetime. It starts Young And Innocent Yet cold And unforgiving. It keeps going And becomes slightly warmer Learning about others Accepting But with slightly less energy. As it reaches twilight It is vibrant At its peak Loving Caring Learning Hoping. It proceeds to Nighttime It is the warmest The most accepting But like the cold, dark air Death looms Constantly threatening To overtake this light Which took a lifetime To mature And become itself.
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Jun 30, 2013
Jun 30, 2013 at 12:52 PM UTC
Light
milbrightlions of sky where the brindled Maya begins its escape from the wind's seething hands, O, celestial machine of pompous working: when the day breaks its shell and births a yolk yellower than all dandelions, the world from its shell will rend the horizon and there shall be forever the two Suns stamping the raze minting in the livery of the world, each to our tenderness sings    humanity, purely—
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Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 12:25 AM UTC
Milbrightlions