Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Metaphor Nostalgia Poems | Metaphor Poems About Nostalgia

These Metaphor Nostalgia poems are examples of Metaphor poems about Nostalgia. These are the best examples of Metaphor Nostalgia poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.

Details | Free verse | |

Moon bridge

The moon so bold seems cold
with a halo of midnight glow
I sit mesmerized as the night grows old.

I bleed still, even after all these years
and I wait again through the night
aching in the depths of my soul
that no other seems to know
the Loneliness that has become my companion.

In the darkness we wait and confide in the other
our deepest fears as memories fade
in and out each season of change
            the nostalgia tempers the wars of pain
this tempestuous foe of ours
         wails at the gates of midnight
howling the warble of humanities last grace.

How the comfort of minds and hearts
turn from light to deep dark in the face 
of eternities long time clock...

I ache with wanting, with need and passion
          it is a lie that time heals and wounds scar
each night is fresh like the first
                              when I faced realities shock.

Who can wait with me?
Who can hold this hound at bay?
Who can cherish what little love left in me
             and make the broken whole?


I ache to be loved again as the love that burns
and waits inside of me. 
Who can comfort this emptiness and fill the void
                that so many leavings have left?

Cherish and love to honor and protect
             but who can slay these demons that hold my heart in wrath?
Who will walk the sulfur clouds of hell to save my mind
     and deliver my world to the gates of heaven
      with life, not death bridging the distance of pain?

I sit and wait at the floor of the moon each night
waiting for that bridge to carry me yonder,
      this moon who hangs heavy and ripe with the yearning of my soul
with clouds aglow as if I could sweep them across a canvas
   with the brush held in your hand

I rage at her as I wait, but still I wait and weep
as Loneliness and I keep each others company
wishing the clouds of that great moon could truly create
a way to find the lost, a pathway to home, lit by the legacy our love.


Details | Free verse | |

Generic Minds

generic minds listen to generic music
have generic thoughts that are unknowingly abusive
watch generic things talk about generic things
gee this generic *****is spreading like a disease
better get your flu shot 
thats what they said to me
a suicidal vaccine 
a subliminal killing spree
its contagious and the outrageous
thing about it is that the people are blind in an eye
that they didn't even know they had
it's sickening to watch these clueless civilians 
inside the looking glass
with nightmares of being free
without a key to their mind
for it is trapped in the frequency
in the illusion of time
bathed in our universe
killing all that refuse to see
those that admit to hypocracy
or see the message in hip hop
how cant you see
the message in the lyrics that
bring adolescents to their knees
from bullet wounds conflicting their flesh
contradicting that they're the best
but the songs keep telling them that they dont need no rest
that they dont wanna go home
that they should ride alone
with the gat as their only companion
and so the only path they choose is the one that they're told
until they grow old and hope turns to a window pane
inside a window pane, until all they feel is pain
they realize that the music itself is ashamed
so whats to look up to
when you cant even speak when you cant even walk because you look so bleak
your eyes are sunken from the tv you're infested with the dee zees
now its too late to turn around and live for your conscious
so when youre screaming oh please
close your eyes and bring your mind to life
open your eyes for the first time
and never wonder why
since the answer this entire time
has been inside
and you better find it before you die
you dont want your soul to be in a pool with all the others
a buncha brothers missing their mothers
but only seeing strangers
only feeling the haters
wishing they would have used their minds when they had them
and now its too late,
now it's time for another new born fate to grab them


Details | Haiku | |

The Internet: Return

A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...
Procrastination!


Details | I do not know? | |

The Beach of Promises

The Beach of Promises


1.


Fingers entwined, barely touching,
turquoise waters teasing your dancing toes,

strolling along that serene deserted beach,
our promised dreams within aching reach.


2.


Hands clasped, holding on,
sea-breezes tickling the nape of your neck,

walking together, alone, vowing to never breach,
the dreams dreamed on that faraway velvet beach.


3.


Hands in my pockets, alone,
traces of you linger, teasing,

lost in my scribbles, your memory fading out of reach,

my thoughts ablaze, now and then,
catching a whiff of your fragrance,

wafting through alleyways of nostalgia,
your hand in mine on our pristine beach.




Details | Free verse | |

The Autumn Affect

There's something unspecific about the autumn nights
A certain shade of color that uplifts my inner child's eyes
Beside a cashmere moon Venus and Jupiter shine bright
Complimented by a sea of blinking infinite twilight
The scent of burning oak lingers in the air from home made fires
Reminiscent of a time when this man was just a child
Careless and so free to dream and any dream to live
Like feathers floating across a field carried by the wind
As a gentle breeze blows through the leaves shivering delightful gloom
Unlike flowers of springtime the disheveled autumn vibrance bloom
Leaves crackle beneath my feet along the skeleton tree path
Where I try to find my peace or a song to make me laugh
The air is so much crisper and also soothing when I breathe it in
Underneath a starry sky and brighter constellations of Heaven
Amidst the trail I pass a lovely couple holding hands
While their children run aside frolicking in a playful dance
An old man and his wife admire the view from a wooden bench 
With smiles on their face as if nostalgia is still their closest friend
Its these specific autumn affects that bring me sorrows and joy
Reminding me of all theses things Ive wanted as a man since I was a little boy 
Its times like these that I wish I wasn't always so alone
Because I would light an fire with my family and call it home


Details | Acrostic | |

Your Eyes

 (Dedicated to Folake)

Your eyes, woman
are like twilight rainbow
amorously bearing aloft passions of mine
toward androcytic ecstacy.
They tell of endless lights.

Night skies clarion the warmth of you
keep me balled-up till
i am tilted to your adorned essence.

May I call up words to adore you,
agglomerate them into a panoply of worshippers
unsandalled before you
like Moses at the burning bush.
 
And now you seem to fall asleep
but you tell me it's the heavy night
bidding toward a sunny dawn
wherein our love is lighted.

Slowly I let you fall asleep
impatient with the long night
waiting to gaze once more
into the eyes of my lovely love.

Then a lip is placed on yours
and you rouse up wide-eyed
smiling at my romantic move.
We enjoyed the night, cruising on.


Details | Imagism | |

A MOTH, A PORCH LIGHT, ALONE IN AN OPEN WINDOW---

A MOTH, A PORCH LIGHT, ALONE IN AN OPEN WINDOW--- Owning up to his shortfalls may be his most difficult task. Tomorrow mirrors that reflection. In thought, he begins his introspection. Standing looking out the open window, a moth distracted his attention. He turned on the porch light thinking about how he was always alone. He did not know why he kept the window open all night. His analysis found he feared the unknown. “May I concentrate in a philosophical mode? Winter is coming fast and I do not want to be out in the rigid cold. Sometimes I wonder why my mind has grown old.” Larry had been a recluse for the last ten (10) years or so. He was a nature walker and he wrote poems. He was an electrician by trade and skilled in masonry. He had designed beautiful architect. His hands provided him an inventor’s intelligence. However, Larry was always down. He did not see the open window he looked out. He felt that the doors had closed. That he had lost his stance in the world. Therefore, he caught moths in a jar and watched them wanting freedom to fly. As he stood on the porch alone, a spirit appeared standing in his open window. The moths were attracted to the light. He fanned a moth away from his eyes. Therein, he felt his eyes were deceiving him; therefore, he looks toward the open window once again. A noise he hears. He wakes up wet. His night fever was on. He was a pallor of fits. His sleeping had embraced his condition and the clatter had awaken him within. His demented state of being demeaned. He reminisced. He ruminated the moth while standing under his porch light alone but in his open window stood a pack of coyotes. |_________________________________________________________________| Penned on November 01, 2014!


Details | Light Poetry | |

Butterfly

I once was like a catipiller young,naive,and new
Always living from my heart not knowing what
else to do.Easy to take advantage of, that is 
just the case, people would walk over me
like I was their dirty used up suitcase.
Now I feel a newness coming, like a light
shining from the sky, colors fill my world
and I know I am blooming into a butterfly.
Purple,Pink, Blue and Green I can feel them
flowing through. Colors of the rainbow raising
me into full bloom. Wise and strong I am becoming
My faith leads me where I need to go giving me
insight and wiseness for only me to know.
I have not  done this on my own you see
I have been guided by God and Angels
on this Earth. Wise words the wisdom at
it's best comes from a wise lady who
seems to know me best. Lucky, I am 
to have her in my life, she always shoots
it straight and tells me like it is, knowing
her words touch my heart and gives me tons of faith..
I feel like flying through the sky or climbing 
a tree way up high. I feel like observing the 
world just like a brand new butterfly so as I
Bloom I become Anew something unlike the past
Smart and wise beautiful on the inside and outside 
 a touch of color here a touch of color there
makes me glow and become a beautiful blooming butterfly...


Written By: Christina A McCullouch 
04/09/2013


Details | Free verse | |

Conspiracy: Who Killed The Easter Bunny

A crowded table, all suspended in shock 
The sound of the shot dimming to a ‘knock’
Only silence, except for the marching clock
The weapon still smoking; an anonymous glock
WHO KILLED THE EASTER BUNNY?

Loud cries arise from the elongated table,
Jack Frost is shocked, the Tooth Fairy unable
To speak whilst Santa is checking the stable
For clues on the erstwhile maidservant Mable
WHO KILLED THE EASTER BUNNY?

They searched for hours, called in C.S.I,
Panic set in, would the children all cry?
Sandman confirmed the bunny had died
Batman suspected somebody had lied
WHO KILLED THE EASTER BUNNY?

Guests were quizzed, interrogations began
The mystery unfolded when Santa Claus ran,
Grabbing the pies, he tried escaping in a van
But was stopped in his tracks by superman
SANTA KILLED THE EASTER BUNNY!


Details | Rhyme | |

the love we had seemed so far away

i look to stars and wishes flew through space never to be heard again
fun to friends hearts do meld and break facing until time ends
this loop that plays and beats that syncopate become but a gem
pleasure a chest opened in surprise feeling no need to defend
galaxies away lonely planets  please keep me in mind
 distance could grow something fond or lost between the lines
gps my love you can see  its still where I  left it behind
thoughts fade away with life love lives forever in my rhyme

Im sorry, I wanted more,with  all this space between
disconnected and I still look to that day
we talked on the phone, our separate homes
the love we had seemed so far away

without air i couldnt breathe squeezed until I'm passing by
no water flow my skin would dry and I return to the sky
sunny days would blacken out, attracting need for desperate lies
to make up for the beauty lost from death slowly closing my eyes
that fire once sparking motion snuffed in huffs slipping away
dwifting I sway shaky grounds where once I sat easily and stay
upon my feet I still float drowning out all thoughts that stray
Tho these ends can come swift its worse to miss and hear you say

Im sorry, I wanted more,with  all this space between
disconnected and I still look to that day
we talked on the phone, our separate homes
the love we had seemed so far away

down the road,flying free, I ride the wave and hope for your return
through several seas and cloudy peaks, storms of sand, I will not turn
helpless to fate and future events, nothing prevents something to learn
  sights may not sore, nothing much looking more, isn't my concern
I hope the best and happyness is true to bless you, not just in dreams
we can meet when we sleep discussing life while sleeping seems
thanks for trying Im not exactly dying, banes of  sentient beings
real enough moving on is rough, i'll love you forever, writting my means


Details | Free verse | |

Only in You

Through the lonely woods, I may head,

Upon the autumn leaves, I may tread,

At the secluded horizon, I may stare,

And only you, I may see,

In those symphonies of silence,

In those melodies of calmness,

In those euphonies of quietness.

 

By the silent lake, I may lay,

Till the twilight fades, I may stay,

Then in reclusive silence, I may walk,

And only to you, I may talk,

Through those toungueless emotions,

Through those wordless attachments,

Through those voiceless sentiments.

 

In the lone meadow, I may wander,

Along the untrodden paths, I may waver,

In companionless seclusion, I may hide,

And only in you, I may find,

The depths of oneness,

The bonds of togetherness,

The cozy feel of coalescence.

 

In the wilderness of emotions, I may die,

At the merciless daggering, I may sigh,

Through a million wounds, I may bleed,

And only in you, I may seek,

The balm of love,

The warmth of affection,

The heal of inseparability.


Details | Free verse | |

A Departing Memory

I know you.
Candles lit, incense fuming,
You like it when I bite your neck, just hard enough.
Blankets thrown about the room
So recklessly, they refold themselves.

And we roll down a hill together,
Kissing the leaves, tickling with our eyes,
Laughing with our hearts.
"You'll just leave me for the next girl you find."
"Yes," I say. Because only
Nothing
Lasts forever.
And it spills through the cracks in your hands
The moment you grasp it.
Like water from a stone.
She bites my neck
Drawing lines of ecstasy down my back with her fingernails
Spilling into me, fighting my words.
"I leave when the sun sets."




Details | Verse | |

Inevitable Bear

Oh lonely Inevitable Bear,
Padding claws, death in white
Sorrow in recurring nightmare
Instinct’s test; fight or flight?

Camouflage against the fence,
A challenge; my subconscious fear
Ominous slowly moving silence,
“Let me in, there’s a bear out here!”


Details | Imagism | |

The Red Symphony

A self-written poem begun in Christmas Time,
While it tasting the soup and looking for rhyme.
In the kitchen, neighbor with the quiet tomato paste,
The sorcerer's apprentice, a poet pretty well placed
Near Soups (ciorbe) with characteristic sour taste
With luminous face and much grace added the rest:
As he was sipping and tasting from raw and cooked.
His group had a passionate look at what was booked
For the dinner: These might be meat and vegetable soups.

They had to choose till the coming of the helping troops
For the pig`s sacrifice rite, old mixture of joy and grief
Under the hot and long debrief of the pleasant smell-thief 
Tripe soup (ciorba de burta) hard prepared from beef,
And calf foot soup (ciorba de vitel), with green-gold leaf 
Pickled soup (supa de moare) with pork and big rice;
But use the dice to decide between spice and allspice.

From the slaughtered pig the village` families prepare: 
Carnati - sausages  kept in special aromatic smoke 
Of wet fir and oak burned at small fire as enjoyed by folk;
Caltabos - sausages made with liver sprinkled with beers;
Toba and piftie - dishes using pig's feet, head and ears 
Suspended in aspic like a frozen symphony in red
After cups of plum brandy and before going the bed
Tochitura - pan-fried pork to bid it a farewell, twice
Served with mamaliga - palesta , and red wine with ice,
Or boiled wine with pepper and cinnamon against frost; 
So that the pork can swim and the verse were glossed;
Piftie - inferior parts of the bashful pig, mainly the tail, 
Feet and ears, kind of meal like taken from a fairytale
In which all are cooked and served in a form of gelatin
In this naturalist field, all the poets smile like Mr.Bean;
                                                                              
Jumari - small pieces of pig meat are fried and tumbled 
Through various spices if after all, you are a little troubled 
 And may falter some poetical from the famous songs
Like "So, good people drink…" couples of diphthongs
Since Saturday to Thursday and make colorful the gray.

This poem was written in the Night of Tuesday to Friday.
 
( And later we`d find that the housewife had covered with it  the pickles cucumbers jar.)


Details | Verse | |

Philosophical Poetry Week: Transient Tuesday

I am a misprint,
Ink blot on love,
I remain a maybe
Longing for fact,
No speck of lint,
A hand in glove.
Thunder; a baby
Will only react

When you etch
Parallel clouds,
Whistling on cue
To a dead town.
Dream a sketch
Of silent crowds
Becoming you,
This boiling crown

Chews thought
Into flagellation.
Holes in the walls
To spy through,
Seeking a sort
Of bricked-up sun.
A heaven of halls,
All leaving you.


Details | I do not know? | |

My Wishes are Simple





My Wishes are Simple


My wishes are simple,
my desires few,

to gaze upon an ocean,
and marvel at a solitary drop of dew.



My wishes are simple,
my dreams not too grand,

to feel the waves teasing my tired feet,
with no footprints left in the cool, wet sand.



My wishes are simple,
my thoughts serenely gentle, calm,

my heart resting beneath a swaying palm,

healing my being, caressed by nature's soothing balm.





Details | Free verse | |

Cat On A Hot Tin Roof

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof 



 I felt my finger nails digging into his back 
What an intensified sexual moment 
I never knew that tears could roll 
Down the cheeks of a robust man 

he wept! he sigh! he came 
Again, and again and again 
was it a sportsmanship or 
an injury cat on a Hot Tin Roof? 


Details | Haiku | |

Le Vacance Pretentieuse: Storm Part VI

Water licks your feet
Far cry from the beating sun
Desert sand to sea


Details | Haiku | |

Le Vacance Pretentieuse: Storm Part V

The English weather:
Rainclouds follow us from home
There is no escape.


Details | Monorhyme | |

Stolen Tears

her stolen tears fall in peace
veiled from a world that will not cease
her knitted brows now show their crease
as she weeps into her comforting fleece
nothing can slow their rapid increase
as they finally find their release…


~Inspired by the wonderful Monorhyme by Nette Onclaud "Black Tears"~

Nette,
You are an amazing poet and you are missed here every day.
I hope that these words find you well and that you will be back 
to inspire more of us here at the Soup!


Details | Villanelle | |

From merry green, the dream ascends to Skylands

From merry green, the dream ascends to Skylands.
Comely words of comfort put the comma in the gray;
Hushed roads are dusted with sugar in the sun`s hands.

Hesitating white clouds meet the night`s dark commands,
But bring the dawn`s serenity for the a golden bay;
From merry green, the dream ascends to Skylands

Luminous black jack oak stopped the moving sands;
The winding road might have danced on the hills` clay;
Hushed roads are dusted with sugar in the sun`s hands


Recollections` last wave in the glass blowers` light stay,
Smiling from Spring Lake to Thistle Shimmer`s way, 
From merry green, the dream ascends to Skylands, 

Pine Barrens` silken grasses are kissed by birds of height,
Chateau Inn looks at the grave laurel and blueberry gay, 
Hushed roads are dusted with sugar in the sun`s hands.
In Paradise, rivers flow under Blueberry Month` sight.


Details | I do not know? | |

Where Wild Violets Grow

Where Wild Violets Grow

Scribbling these verses,
caressing your bare back,
simple rhymes,
flowing from my fingertips.


Scribbling verses,
sprinkling odes to fragrant promises,
your smile lightens the burdens,
off my heavy heart.


Scribbling verses,
soaked in countless kisses,
the moonlight waltzing on your skin.


Scribbling verses,
feeling you,
your love never ceases to flow,


through the streams of my mind,
to a place of our own,
where wild violets grow



Details | Verse | |

I'm sorry

I'm sorry for you, for all I DID mean to.
I'm sorry for truth yelling under the letters.
I'm sorry for gloom I used to be into.
I'm sorry for words that were ment to be better.

I'm sure you'll learn how to be optimistic,
and all of your sorrow will burst in a firework.
I'm sure you'll taste both the carrot and broomstick,
and critic with sarcasm will become a fair quirk.

I'm sure you'll manage to blow off the ceilings,
to do something wierd, worth to be accused of.
I hope that you'll learn to sort out the feelings
and born the new tenet out of the used stuff.

I want you to find something to govern.
I wish you object every slightest assurance.
I warn you to leave any secret uncovered
so it won't appear as nightmare to you once.

Be careful with matches, refuel the gaslight, 
extinguish the candle, let the night to mourn.
I'd say, single point to fear the Last fight:
to set Life aside until you'll have to moor.

8.04.2013
NikA


Details | Free verse | |

Her Final Words

"No." She whispered before drowning into her sorrows.
Her life had been a simple happy one. 
There were no pains and no troubles.
Life was life and people were people.
Life was simple.
and life was all about tomorrows.
Life didn't know about sorrows.
Her sorrows.
Those same sorrows that she drowned in never existed. 
They were never there, but where?
First to be sad in the naive town of joy.
Sorrow became contagious and what was known as happiness no longer was there.
It was non-exististent. 
A meager thought 
and a blessed memory.
She tried and tried.
She failed and failed.
Life was no longer hers.
For Pain was her only possession.
Her curse.
She lived and she died.
Yet, her legacy was passed on.
Never was it gone.
"No." She whispered before drowning in her sorrows, 
"Save them."


Details | I do not know? | |

Love Endures

Love floats by,


reaching,
tantalising,
meandering,


tip-toeing past pain,


leaping through walls,
weakening the barricades,


of the most private heart.



Love settles in,


trusting,
searching,
dissolving,


quietly beyond anguish,


erasing the desolation,
soothing a battered spirit,
enveloping the shivering soul.



Love stays, it is true,


love endures, as do you






Details | Free verse | |

The Bird that is Loved and Loathed

It burns and it stings.
It hurts.
More than drowning beneath 
the ice.
More than remaining in a 
kindled flame
She hits and I no longer cry.
Why mother, why? 

It burned and it stung.
The markings remained, 
returned, and were relived
Looking, loving, and little 
known loathing were the known 
ways of living.
Never was their pity for the 
child that cried
Never was their relief for the 
child that tried

You were that lovely bird that 
understood the complications of 
felicity 
Nothing looked the same in 
those dewy browns of yours.
My everbeating would cry tears 
of joy.
The others-they were yet to 
appear.
Caring Mother, o' so fair
 You were that beautiful bird 
filled with care.

The others came and were not 
alone. Their two suitors sat on 
the throne.
Rampage and rage why did you 
come?
I began to wither and wither 
slumping along. So very soon I-
the child of fines- became a 
human raceme. 
The droops of the Lily of the 
Valley became the slumping of 
my heart.
My lovely bird the enemy had 
taken you and the person you 
were is far from near.
For that divine nature left its 
intricate self and you became 
irretrievable my big bird.
All of your fairness died.
With that went my pride.
 
Mother, Mother what moved 
you so? 
Your intense spirt vanished only 
to supplement a monster. 
Mother, Monster and your tar 
filled lungs. 
How did I kill that liver that was 
so, so strong?
The lesson of pain was one you 
came to learn.
My darling bird why did you 
turn?
 
My lovely bird and your big 
brown eyes
I'll tell you once, but never 
twice.
Pain is only a flower for it 
blooms and dies
And a mistake can be killed as 
quickly as lice.
 You dear bird hurt me well. 
Though, haven't you heard?
Weakness is a souls greatest 
strength.
You brought me up, then you 
brought me down.
You haved helped, hurt, and 
hindered my blazing spirit.
A hero in my heart-I left you 
down in your deep black 
slumber. 
Escaping those terrible nights
To go for the town of delights. 


Details | I do not know? | |

You and I



You and I.


You.

Your heart blazed,
with a warmth of spirit,

soothing,

alluring,

soaked in truth.



Your smile burned,
branding me permanently,

gentle,

tender,

enveloping my being.



Your love was complete,
from the depths of your soul,

unsaid,

yet fierce,

bathed in silent knowing.



Your dreams were poetic,
fluttering in the afternoon breeze,
infused with the distilled essence of rhyme.


I.

I squandered your generosity of spirit.

I vainly discarded your priceless poems.


Now I stand,

alone,

empty,

desolate,

wasting away,

rotting inside, day by day.




Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

Emotional Hole

I did not find myself to be so important
So I ask my friends do I seem distant?
When I ask the question I had received an answer, Yes
So I think that made it clear that I had been not the best
I am a friend of a friend that talks so many things
That friend talks to much it is insane and insanity it brings
I do care, about my friends they are all good people
They tend to stand on their high steeple 
Today I find myself not so aware
Disbanding my fear of regret and care
Walking many different paths I see that I have found holes
It is the path that people choose to use to fuel their rage with coals
Coals are partially burnt wood or fossils a piece of fuel
It is the source of burden and fire a rage of emotions that stands cruel
It can be warm and caring, but it also can be baring
I just start to feel so low, below the ground I keep on staring
I reach for my friends so many times I feel so ignorant at times
Just once I feel I should not rely on them when feeling I can not find 
I dig my hole deeper and I can not climb out
For some reason I am just full of doubt
I care about so many things and what I have is confusion
One person should be all I should think about to get out of that illusion
My battle in my heart and mind is not at all so pleasant
I feel so alone in an island that is shaped like a crescent
My emotions is like coinciding with a diameter of the semicircle
Not a full emotion that is complete like a circle
My feelings is circular full of incomplete thoughts, so much deeper
I feel it will wake up my evil half a evil soul that is a sleeper
What question should I ask myself? to believe that I am not so alone
As I feel like a person who is deteriorating to the bone
I ask my friends the same question once again
I figure I should do it, to know what kind of feelings I should end
So many thoughts that come out of my feeling
I feel like my friends take, an emotional trauma of stealing
They ask me questions and I answer theirs
But when I need mine answered I feel burning inside like a flare
Are they even friends when they do not take me serious in anyway
Just put me in my hole cause I feel nothing in their will be getting in my way
It's just so simple to answer someones problem
I answer friends with beauty of a rose, but when they answer mine I get the stem
I know the stem is very important in life, with out it how can a rose be a rose
With a hole to put the root and stem in how can it grow
The words we speak I guess is like all natural things we reap and sow


Details | Free verse | |

Now I Am Free from My Step-parent

A life of beauty and happiness denied, of innocence 
smothered like a flame, I have always lived; but when 
I hear your lovely voice, my Lisa--

now I am free.

I was dead before I even entered into this world, a
place cruel and without feeling, cruel and without 
the love and understanding I finally know in the rich 
harmonies of your voice, my Lisa--

which sets me free.

Before I could even hope to bloom like a sensual
flower caught breathless and naked in the first, rainy
sunbeams of spring a great evil--the threatening, 
inner hostility of a dark figure overflowing with 
bigotry--transformed me into a joyless 

waste of ashes.

From that terrible moment on I fought all the ugly
and horrible assaults as his unwilling possession, a
gladiator in the arena of his constant abuse and 
myriad threats, subject to his occasional hostile 
looks from 

across the dinner table.

But when I hear your voice and imagine its tender-
ness and compassion as an unearned gift meant for 
me despite him and my child-like self-loathing: 

I feel the love and self-worth denied me, taken from
me simply because it was too easy to not rape from 
a child whose only fault was that he was born 

defenseless and
white.

O Lisa! Because of the music of your lovely voice--
now I am free! Free from my years as a gladiator in 
the arena of his constant abuse and attacks; 

free to bloom like a sensual flower caught breathless
and naked in the first, rainy sunbeams 

of Spring again!


Details | Haiku | |

responding back to her

something I had said 
is better than the ringing 
in my worn ear drum


Details | I do not know? | |

I Stand, Alone



I stand, alone.

Scratching for my truths,
peeling away the veneer,

I stand, alone, before this
impregnable cliff so sheer.

Cocooned in my solitary shell,
wrenching a smile from a tear,

I stand, alone, a little odd,
and definitely quite queer.

I stand, alone.


Details | Verse | |

Love's Touch

Love’s Touch

the first touch was tentative,
the scent tantalizingly different,
the sounds and nuances yet to
be experienced, known, trusted.

she was beautiful, firm, curvaceous,
polished, but not yet refined, not
yet molded by the necessities of
moving in fluid oneness.

time, and practiced repetition,
would embrace them, join them,
meld them into a flawless fluidity,
caress the contours of their differences.

he cherished every moment of this
first love, touched, caressed, held,
gazed at the texture and sheen
of his olive skinned love.

they spent long winter nights
exploring the subtle contours
of the other, investigating the
intricacies of intimacy

they knew this was a perfect fit,
a seamless bond had been fashioned,
a desire to face the future together
to place one hand in the other

thus they stood on that spring day
hand in hand, facing the future,
dreaming of its wonders
when those magic words were spoken.,,,




…….PLAY  BALL!!!


John G. Lawless
9/20/2014


Details | I do not know? | |

i carry you

CHAPTER 1
Broken glass, shattered dreams, aching hearts- bleeding the memories of yesterday
Fading hope, faded conviction; where do I go to bury you and put the dream of us 
away?
To preserve it forever I’ll put it to rest in c chamber of my soul, I will carry you in my 
heart
This way, my love, you’re forever mine, breathing you even though we are worlds 
apart


CHAPTER 2
Our song, romancing the moon and the summer breeze
The words I’ll be seeing you put my mind at ease
Oh God! Yet, I have burned it all, the bridges crossing to you my dear
I have tainted our love and demolished your heart of gold I fear
Ironically, it all came crashing down on your day of love Sir Valentine
Picture of destruction, sex, drugs and fake friendships intertwine
I will never insult you by trying to say I’m sorry, for it won’t do
There’s nothing I can even dream of that will ever make it up to you
That’s is why I’ll rather suffocate in my pain, take the punishment and protect you 
from me
You think you want this, but I destroy everything I touch, trust me part of my life 
you don’t want to be

HELL
My deepest desire is to go back and find you, but I don’t know where I let go
I don’t know what possessed me, how did you later become my foe
I’ve lost my mind more that I’ve realized, condemning us to hell
Sickening memories, pathetic choices and a heartbreaking story to tell
Pieces if of me, all I have left is my blackened heart and tears
If I forgive myself, will you leave my dreams – these are my fears
I year ago, to the night, I was almost conquered by the bear
The nightmare didn’t end there, I still carry you – life isn’t fair

AUTUMN
The days are turning colder, the warmth of the sun is fading away
An ironic metaphor of how we use to be, oh God how I wish it’ll be okay
I miss you, but I will always be looking for something more
More ambition, confidence, initiative – always being something that I’m punishing 
you for
God knows I want to be with you, but I will destroy
You loyal, passionate and unconditional love give boy


Details | Free verse | |

Another Night of Dread

It is dark and night outside my window,
and in the soundless, lit confines of my 
room I sit at my old, ivory desk 

cheerless

and anxious with dread for what the rest
of another night may bring.

My ostomy bag, an abhorrent creature that 
hugs precariously on one side of my abdomen,
covers my raw and fleshy stoma underneath. 

Against my desire, the stoma continually oozes  
feces and waste 

like a sewer into the ostomy bag, which, 
every seven days or so ruptures its seal 
and transforms into

a stinking and rancid cabbage

whose fetid odor refuses to stop emanating 
until the entire, offensive beast is immediately 
uprooted from my body.

So, I sit at my ancient, ivory desk, writing 
these cherry-picked words to express

the anxiety and the doldrums 
of another night;  

and the lonely, isolating, embarrassing, humiliating,
ego-wiping, self-esteem killing, mind-numbing, 
soul-shattering, universal, all-embracing, 
omni-present 

stench 

that weekly offends my nostrils and fills my lungs 
because of a thoroughly used-up ostomy bag that 
needs to be removed immediately

like an old, decaying vegetable 
that has outlived its 
freshness--

It is another cheerless night in the same, old
cheerless space: 

the nose-blistering smell, however, is only for 
another night...


Details | I do not know? | |

Distant African Nights

Those Distant African Nights...


1.


The shadows swayed in your candlelit room,

a cool breeze teasing your bare back,


streaks of lightning forked in the Johannesburg night,

as my hands stroked your hair,

kissing your soft mouth,

holding you,

ever so tight.



2.


You whispered that you loved me,

and I kept silent,


the rain fell, 
shadows danced,
thunder rolled,

the breeze teased your naked back,

you whispered that you loved me,
as my lips found yours,

the rain washed over our tender nights,


lightning and candlelight,

etching poems on your burnished skin,


yet,

a fear gnawed at me,

deep within.



3.


We parted ways,
and you could never forgive me, you said,


now, after numberless thunderstorms,

the rain that falls,


echo the countless tears that I have shed.



4.


You are long gone,

far away,

happy, I pray,


yet the memories persist,

those precious moments shall never, 
ever,

like the Jo'burg rains,
trickle away,

and I wish you well,
for loving me as you did,

for it was I who was not worthy,


then,


and it is I who is not worthy,


now...



5.


You were always true,


it was I who always,

always,

refused to,


to give myself,


completely to you.






Details | I do not know? | |

The Sieve of Time



The Sieve of Time



Cast ashore,
along the banks of time,

whirling through the passing years,
clinging to my futile scribbles set in rhyme,


Cast ashore,
thrust into an unrehearsed pantomime,

clenching slivers of joy as weariness descends,
lulled into a peaceful slumber exhilaratingly sublime.


Cast ashore,
hazily adrift, a dandelion seed on the wings of time,

trapped in the sieve of spiralling memories,
caught between pristine bliss, and reeking slime.


Cast ashore,
flung aside for no discernible crime,

my human heart thuds with elusive hope,
though battered, bruised, and covered in grime,

I stagger ashore, 

alone,

embracing each moment of detached, oblivious time.



Details | Blank verse | |

grey

we see black as a sad color, and white as bright and happy.
but what is grey?
to me
its the in-between, obviously.
its the rope. 
its timid
its the falling asleep at 9:30 pm
and falling asleep at 4 am
its light rain
its jumping in puddles
its coming home and smelling the fire waiting for you 
in the fireplace
it has wisdom
it has been stuck in-between 
the black and white
the right and wrong
the good and bad for a long time
its the soft smile.
its taking yourself out on a date 
its wandering a city alone,
for a purpose
its being alone, but not being lonely
but, it can also be the lump in your throat.
or 5 am, but when you stay up, not wake up
its the sun and the moon trying to catch up to each other
a definition written 
its expecting you to fit into impossible standards like a shoe cinderella’s stepsister’s feet
its a whole generation of cinderellas with no glass slipper.
its a poem with no end.


Details | I do not know? | |

Your Whisper

You whispered in my ear,
a breathy secret, hushed.

“I love you”, you murmured.

I said nothing,
lost, in your arms,
I found a home. At last.

“I love you”, you said,
I said nothing,
lost in my thoughts,
I found peace. At last.

“I love you”, you said,
words failed me then.

They still do.


Details | Free verse | |

Hard to Not Look, Easy to stay Staring

I've allowed that burning boat to float off without me
Rarely ever thinking about dissipating the flames, 
As it is hardly worth the time and effort. 
In Truth, 
There wasn't much of a future with that situation.
No matter the attempts
No matter the appeal
It was all for naught
The only thing I worry about now
Is looking back at the Flames
And hoping I am not entranced
By their Dancing Light


Details | Free verse | |

Memories Made

The coldest white had fell
Surrounding all the feet of those behind
The day turned into hours
Just in the mind
Did the gift appear in night?
Or were dreams reality?
Did it come from karma’s hands?
It drifts from sanity

The trek towards that happy place
You’ve been there many times
Something was different now
It held a horrible surprise
The box wasn’t full of life and sound
The ashes of memories made were here
Taking longer to twist the knife
Left remains of a child now in tears

Standing still you couldn’t breath
Excuses flying in your mind
Trying to figure out the scene
Hoping there’s time
You look up to see
Expectant eyes for the last time
You wish you could keep
But it’s the saddest of a smile 


Details | Free verse | |

An Idea So Rich

Allowance
That is the true crime to my mind
Allowing entrance of this Idea
An Idea so intoxicating 
It Blinded Me
Clouded Judgement
Drove me through a Fog
That I should've never gone through
The Burning Light
It was the only appeal I could see through the Fog
The only thing that even enticed my interest
Was it Fantasy?
Most likely
Fantasy Enshrouded with Arrogance of my own Design
A Design So Flawed
So Young
It would have been the End of myself
Had I continued after it

Perhaps, allowing the boat to float on
Was the best I did for my well being
Staying Or Even Attempting to go Aboard
Would have proven Fatal
In possibly, the most dangerous of ways..


Details | I do not know? | |

Within Me


Within Me

Flowing through the rivulets of my everyday thoughts,
memories of you surface, gasping for air, breathing in,
permeating, absorbed by the pores of my ageing skin.

Famished, greedily gulping mouthfuls of fractured life,
awash in distant yesteryear, when your feathery kisses,
banished the vacuum, dispelling my anguish and strife.

You are eternally carved, and embroidered into my soul,
I wash ashore, smashing against the boulders of the now,
seeking solace, begging for absolution with my empty bowl.

The book of fate is sealed shut, the tea-leaves have been read,
nothing remains within me, the burden of smiling has been shed.

Now I am stranded, between dreams and the empty years ahead,
searching for forgiveness, in the miles I have yet to wearily tread.



Details | I do not know? | |

Passion in D-Major

Passion in D-Major


Feeling, the sensuous brush-
strokes on a canvas,

swirling,

to a symphonic crescendo,

of our shared heartbeats,

fading between the notes,

feeling your soft body entwined 
with mine,

your form bathed in my infinite 
kisses,

our orchestral desire rising,

conducting a shared fusing of 
passion,

... the music echoing ...

over the precipice,

on the brink of dazzling rainbow 
hues,

lost in the void,
of an eternal instant,

plunging through the depths of 
rhyme,

pleading,
forever pleading,

for a prolonged,

bouquet of shared time.


Details | I do not know? | |

She

She

She smiled, gently,
her warmth infusing me,
with a serene stillness of time.

She settled, slowly,
in my waking thoughts,
a soothing balm of simple joy.

She remains, scribbled,
on the walls of my fractured heart,
memories of happiness that once breathed...



Details | Blank verse | |

THE PLOP OF A FROG-COLORED-GRIEF

Everything is creased & kept
In right place & order
To avoid even a particle of dust.
But all worms
Are not devised to
Die before a naphthalene.
 
The dead narcissus,
The spittle of wind on windowpane,
The half-empty dish of rice
Beside the folded mattress
Make me return & recall
The days of nursery school,
The lesson of my favorite farmer.
His corns would come & store themselves magically !
 
Flying out of ancient hearth
Gods & dogs
Gift me
The vessel of ashes.


Details | Free verse | |

Window

In one corner of my room,
That is shaped like a tomb,
There is a window, where I sit
And see my world through it.

I see the rising sun,
I see the melting dew,
I see the blooming flowers,
I see the sky’s changing hues.

Through it
I embrace the fading sun,
I live the joyous rains,
I feel the flowery fragrance,
I walk those lonely ways.

Through it
I float with the summer clouds,
I breathe the winter breeze,
I touch the autumn leaves,
I celebrate the cuckoo’s springtime songs.

Through the window,
I see my world.
Neither the autumn leaves,
Nor the springtime songs;
Neither the winter sunshine,
Nor the summer rains;
Would have been great
Had it not been through my window rails.

Through my window,
I see the world.
In the window, lies the entire bliss;
Beyond the window is only an illusion.

Suyash Saxena


Details | I do not know? | |

Port of Call

Port of Call


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

with the breath of the ocean a caressing balm,
soothing pained memories away,
to the swaying of a solitary palm.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

feeling the brushing away of all past turmoil,
on a quest for solace, ever so hard to find,
yet comforted by the crashing of the waves,
as the tide cleanses all pain,
and leaves despair far, far behind.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

drenched in a sea-breeze of mist,
that hushes the ache of bygone moons,
tasting the salty tang on my lips,
as the burnished sun,
over the distant horizon,
swoons,

and dips.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

searching, ever searching,
for a slice of solitude,
as memory bids a final adieu,
reaching under the sea so vast,
and seeking comfort in the depths,
while embracing,
the tomorrows to come,
wishing that they be true.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

seeing my truths drown,
as they slip beneath the turquoise waters,

feeling my heart ablaze,
with a passion that rarely falters.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

yet knowing that I am home at long last,
wishing the waves would wash away,
the defences that once stood,
like an impregnable wall.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

I have found, at long last,

my final port of call.


Details | I do not know? | |

Chill or Not to be Chill

Wine is my Valentine

Intoxicated by its love 
Diversity of my taste
such a warm embrace

You’re timeless, legal and `appeasable

 Kiss my lips, tease my tits
chill or not to be chill 
You have no race :just an acquired taste
you’re simply the best

You are my.... Valentine


Details | I do not know? | |

For Bob Dylan

Ramblin' Bob Dylan Blues
(For Bob Dylan)



Why does the sun dry up so many scattered tears

slipping down the coarse cheek of a million hushed fears

where no one is scalded though the searing fog clears

while prayers are mutely spoken even as the end nears

We shatter and scrape on demented knees

Blindly begging for mercy as it silently flees

Searching listlessly for salvation drowned in the breeze

That spits at the soft rose suffocated by a wheeze


I know now what I need never have known

Of hope that was trampled before it had flown

Into a wasted sky filled with hate that could drown

The giggling of the crowd and the crying of the clown


A hope so fragile that its wings were of brittle glass

Ripping the veneer off the sewers of class

Twisting the fabric of the weighed and costed mass

Who numbly waited hoping that it too may pass


For when shards of that hope in all hearts scurries away

To a darkness where crowded night is emptied off the heaving tray

'Tis then when sewn eyes shall behold that doleful day

When all shall tear at each other while on demented knees we still shall pray


For a lifting of the veil of that wilful deceit

That's wrapped up in a flag swollen with conceit

While the limbs splinter in the claw of a winner's defeat

Yet still the drums roll for the ill-fated souls chose never to retreat


From that drenched battle-ground where blood flows through a sieve

And love's lost song plaintively begs for a reprieve

From eternal loss which into raw emotion does cleave

Only to slip through the fingers and like grains of sand, leave.


Details | Free verse | |

Faith Healer

The odor is intolerable
Like a foul beast clinging to the end 
I can barely subdue its subterfuge 
But here I am, 
I’m standing here of sound and mind
Waiting for the time that answers my own questions

Can it race with the fires of Orc?
Doubtful, but it can jog steadily can’t it?
The weather is awful, filled with sounds
Penetrating a document not written
It pains me to fight through the night
Not because it’s dark, but because I am just a shadow.

Lester drives but
Motional lasts forever
Still driving
Still crying
And slowly dying as time waves on
Like oceans that can’t be seen.

Nobody cares and everyone listens
Ironic, like a bible that holds lies and deception
Can its will be pierced?
Can freedom stay free?
Is it worth it to stay hooked when everyone around
Seeks liberty?


Details | I do not know? | |

The Tears of the Clown


The Tears of the Clown


A veil of smiles,
worn effortlessly.

Tuning out the blurring din,
alone in the cackling throng,

never hoping to belong,
though pining to fit-in.


Peeling off the thin facade,
feeling the pained charade,
melting into the dim parade.


Trickling effortlessly down,
over the strained contours,

of a spurious laugh,

the tears of the clown,

rehearsed, rehashed,

form an unending cold stream,
dissolving the lingering traces,

of this simple boy's dream



Details | I do not know? | |

with thanks to Don Henley

with thanks to Don Henley...

...an echo of her laugh

whispers past

a simple joy, a gentle breeze

of quiet reflection that can never last

the fleeting innocence once drifting along

then disappearing into the notes of that Don Henley song

the end, he sang, of the innocence once felt

of days and of nights of serene peace

gone forever now, 

for into the night's void everything must eventually melt

though the memories and the thoughts 

and the echoes of her whispers

settled this gypsy heart, putting it at ease

but that's all long gone now

even though the echoes of her whispers

seem never to cease...


Details | Free verse | |

In My Net

In My Net
 
I cast my somber trap
a tattered old net
once more this morning
toward the top of the acasia tree
just as the sun begins
to wake at the eastern
slope of my day.

I hope to catch that birdsong
that nightly haunts the floating dust
in my room – circling and circling
but not in a merry dance
commencing at twilight
promising to end only when my heart
stops its beating.

The purple notes touch
each blanket thread
on my melancholy bed
kiss each carpet flint covering 
this chafed bedroom floor
they seep within every pinhole in my skin
and puncture every vein.

Twilight soon slides to midnight
and these notes perforate my eyelids
driving away portraits
of giggling green leaves
forcing out echoes of a phantom laugh
the only one I nurse
the only one I utter.

The net I toss up every day
and I only drag it down
as soon as the sun sinks 
at the deep valley
but no birdsong here
I can stare or listen, stare or listen
for all eternity --
but not a hint of  a note.

Just the heap of fallen leaves
a metaphor of old dreams
mounding in the middle
        yellowing
           browning 
              waiting
for their inevitable decay.

A blending with the elements. 
A blending with clay.


Details | Free verse | |

Great as always

Sorry, I have no metaphor for today
Some days are hangovers
With stale images from far away
I am in a bar
Bumped my last pride with an empty glass
Do not pretend you understand
For there are many deleted expletives here
I want the music to play, just three songs
They play over and over again like one
Trying to wear a memory out
When alcohol is not enough
Except to make socially ackward
Drunks do not have poise and balance you know?
What stupidity then
Makes forgetting so important
To the irrelevance of the deed?
Do not compare me today,
I am only me, great as always.


Details | Free verse | |

High-Reaching Hope Leading Destructive Despair

Being Near
It is impossible to say what Feeling is Stronger
Attraction
Nervousness
Paranoia
Or just wanting to wrap thou in an embrace for all the comfort that wants to be shown unto thee

This meager attraction that has sprouted dwindles by what you see in another
This case seems to be always present throughout these experiences
A sheer passing of Anxiety courses through when near this conduit of feeling
Of course, even at the Genesis of these feelings it was known what they were
Now, it just grows and threatens to burst at the seams

Ever expanding with every passing memory,
Every possible moment that could take place between the two
Every Glance in this dangerous direction

The Memories
How they haunt and stretch the Hopeful side
Leading to a fantasy that cannot take root in reality
Even if the seed has been planted
The Watering will never occur by both
In the same degree,

The Paranoia is perhaps a more pressing matter
Leaving this dreamer to wonder if their feelings are right in their place
Or just a calamity that is sure to follow these rushing tides of sensations
When your eyes are averted in a more hopeful and dreamy direction
When a more realistic approach is so near

Alas, I find myself in a pattern
Something that has become most vexing
This newfound desire seems much more realistic than the last few
Although, saying that fuels a Hope that should not have, perhaps, ever been allowed to be conceived
However,
With the progression of things these past few moons
That possibility of Hope growing is Becoming More
And More
Inevitable
With it, comes an even greater chance of Despair
That has ever been known 
By this poor stricken soul...



Constructive Criticism is welcomed for this, as well as suggestions that might want to be made.
Please and thank you!(:


Details | I do not know? | |

An 02h00 Scribble

a 2:00 AM scribble...

'twas but a lifetime ago
when she floated as if in a dream

when the whistling winds
called out her name

while the truth was revealed
of her love supreme

she walked into the barren landscape of my world

and carved-up an exclusive place

excising the pain as the standard of love fluttered in the breeze once it was unfurled

she walked into the solitary vacuum of a heart rendered mute

instilling in that heart a passion that became impossible to refute

a passion blazing with renewed belief

with solitude consigned to the shadows

and despair shunned into the night like an scurrying thief

her touch was gentle, her manner warm and light

her love an endless sea of possibility

washing up against the shores of my moonless night

and when that burst of colour came through

like a dozen rainbows in the monsoon twilight

her face like a revelation shone

as I silently, in awe, gazed at that miraculous sight

and though a lifetime ago it seems

she regularly dances between the cotton-wool clouds of my dreams

and she infuses my each and evey moment with a love so strong

that effortlessly soothes me knowing that I belong

in the haven of her warm embrace

as I gaze lovingly 
at her wondrous face

and into those eyes that pull me closer into the ocean of desire

while my spirit soars up into the heavens, ever so higher

it takes but a moment with her to know

that these feelings shall prevail

for they diminish not, as they continually grow

spawning a paradisical garden of emotion and love

and being entwined in her arms seems like a gift from above

for here is where I always hope to be

anchored safely by her side, and not adrift in the emptiness of the vast lonesome sea

so allow me to thank thee
for the lifeline you cast as I lay drowning in thought

and for being the treasure trove of love that I have always sought

so stay well, sweet one
and remember me once or twice in a moon of blue

and know forever that these scribbled words

are deeply felt and forever shall be, eternally true...




Details | Free verse | |

Temporal

TEMPORAL 

At rainy Lisdoonvarna your red hair was a flare
which guided us to your side
through multi-sensory squalls
when the crowd’s swell parted our company.

I view this photo, perceive the melancholy,
and see the longing now;
to which those ever sparkling eyes,
and my self-hatred had blinded me.

When they find that quantum is bunkum,
I’ll travel there again and tell you
that i am a fool;
that you are a jewel; then
touch your hand,
and see what flares.


Details | Verse | |

Prized Paradise

Word from dream, the act of becoming, then woman
From Eve to Anat, the rib dribbled on the sand
Love and worship from dust of conviction life's promise claimed
And we from altar to grave turned, wounded and maimed
What is left but the pouring of desire, the moon
Exciting the fragile heart, the grateful ruin.

I have seen the Greek King's eyes Helen strucked and sad
Heard blind Samson cried, and for death saw he was glad
It was God first who made metaphor of the race
And put upon the world a woman's charm and face
So all men somewhere because of women shall die
Hence worship too appeases terror from the eye.

Leave them alone, leave them alone, our texts and dreams
The pondering and plunder of blind mythic schemes
Read here curving like hip of mountain, sweet as lips
The fountain of history where the gospel drips
The triumvirate of pagans, the fawn led trek
The safe sundering tree, and God's wounded love dissect

I have felt the deep core yearning for her embrace
Have longed to feel the white moon suckle on my face
Have groaned through nights like deserts melting the wax pore
And you cannot stain my desire with stigmaed whore
It is not a fertility cult that I chase
But a command to bring forth he designed in place

Some doctrine new this shame to replenish the garden
And make countless the numbers on shores of heaven
This other gospel enthralled a pagan race, tempt
Their women abdicate role and place, none exempt
Now, the tarnishing is done, I come not nude then
Who call her first mother, and sister, wife and friend 

I bring no flowers for denial, since I drain
Dregs of human longing and sleep in webs of pain
Mother Mary too knew she bore her God to die
On her cross for sins she had since Eve had supply
Diminishless, O but not the pant and shudder
Not the ecstacy that feeds the mythic fodder

Astarte who grind day to crimson  terminus
And led light frazzled  the rebellion of dust
Unwombed no eggs, her virgins dry as furnaced stones
Kept all posterity in their shivering bones
To taste the pleasure and not the pain, not my will
For all who love cannot regret again the thrill

Let pagan kingdoms twist earth's history, I wait
The coming of the moon unwrapped from clouds, the late
Swelling of tides, and vigour of blood, proof of joy
For nothing else compensates our purpose and coy
Inheritance of the earth. Only in women's eyes
I find, some semblance of the promised, prized paradise


Details | I do not know? | |

SSRI's and I

SSRI's and I ...


... the sounds of thoughts clattering, my neurones sparking,
like Dylan said, my morning recedes jingling and a-jangling,

worn down by this leaden knot, tearing my insides out,
the cacophony drowned in a whisper, lost in a silent shout,

dreams and screams scratching the back of my dry throat,
caged in, liberation hovering like a mirage beyond the moat.


I claw my way, slowly, through a thicket of solitude,
feeling my emotions peeling, stung by unseen nettles,

crawling to an open field, to rest, beneath a sky ablaze with stars,
as my mind glides, brushing the soft grass as it peacefully settles ...







Details | Free verse | |

Mellita, domi adsum

A timeless classic upon reaching your castle                                                                      to choose the good and not the bad                                                                                  breaking away from the ice of the day                                                                              in search of a ray like sunshine how is your day                                                                 like the Shakespearean play terms of endearment                                                             testing the waters of one's abode                                                                                     will ducky be swimming or ice skating                                                                              a warm Embrace or on the brink of today                                                                         in any case show yourself friendly


Details | Blank verse | |

Life as Metaphor

I can explain in metaphor 
The stories of my life
As a person who exists
But live without control
Introducing the countless
Characters of my life

Each one a segment 
In muted reflection of me
Acting upon the stage
Of life's mediocre tragedy
All engaged in conversation
Forced to exchange pleasantries

Living in shame
Raging from the half-truths
That dresses their lives
Afraid of their lust
Found in meaning
The pain of life

Yet in the quiet hours
When the curtain falls at last
Disrobed from their prejudices
Entwined in a single course
When their masks of preferred guise
Are removed to show the same source.