Abeyance Poems - Poems about Abeyance

Immersed in the quagmire of finding yourself The search tunnels deeper through canyons undwelt Absorbed in the moments your fear would disdain Time lost and abeyant — in search of a name (Dreamsleep: June, 2024) ...

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Without your heart open emotion unspun Without the right feeling the words lie unsung Without the right words the verse to abate The reader in Limbo awaiting —his fate (Dreamsleep: January, 2024) ...

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air a voice of no measure pairs equitably trifling like an eighty-six patron vermiso will win out a majority in favor consciousness of her fears are competently conversant of artsy quiescency a plague that ails them whereby its cure is not immediate composure that an artist overripes her flowery facial abeyance tis squarely crafted in stilled visage interspersing gild and vermillion splash ere curtains call emphatic operatta as Italian corporatist infiltrates faced causation effects...

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Flying scorching skies, Another rescue, Another promise it so seems. Used again and again, Then tossed away each time. Yet I can’t seem to reason now. My finger to my lips, I silence the cries of pain, Stirring within me, And tell myself I’m helping. And in between my lives, I wander stone-cold, grim, And wonder if I’ve somehow died, Repeating the same labors, Day in and day out...

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It was a righteous hit and the silky smooth euphoric familiar feeling was racing through her veins to her encephalon. It was an energetic stimulation to her central nervous system. Her whole body fell back onto the foul-smelling and heavily stained mattress. Her mind slumped into oblivion. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head. The last thing she...

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Baitless Abeyance A man of some years with a face of little value, Had a raggedy satchel and a beat up tackle box, Both of which, were worth more than a face, It set next to an opened cooler exposed to sun, Therein, sat a jar with a punctured cover, 'Twas home for wiggling worms to keep, Several times when he had...

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Grief stricken spirit; Heartfelt depthless soul; tear ducts filled yon banks hold; spreads o'er a vast steep creek; thirst trails fluids back of walled eyelids. Date: 06/02/2019...

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Had I, been I, would I have been born in the all time of all of things positive Spanish, esp the Flamenco fragrance of all things love, life and flourish casting all pertinent fate to a tortured wind. Cassanova to the Don Juan and their principle of love all for all making in a time...

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Running without legs. A perfect apparition of sandhills. I cannot see far, but hear the synchronized call, of peacocks at midnight. Cannot sleep. The solemn mystery of dark is broken. In the cracks, I am discovering myself. Was it not an enough reason to abandon the search of peace and return to killing? the gods of clay and find the...

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can u tell me whomwhatwhere I am or is everyone to blame must i lose all Butt one limbs and never hope to be the sames I hide the mymemine unto all within'ins and neverthewheretohereforwondery i was given I don't know who u the Fu_k u r (emma) I don't know why the Fu_k u r alive But now I'm Aliveeeeeeeeeeee x four. Capture,...

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Take my body for sail, my wings to fly. I am trying to find out the meaning of a drop. The point man was taking aim. There was no culpability. I asked, what was the need to know the verdict of a rape ? The bed always suffers. The secret of a muse overturns a disaster. In insane sky a beleaguered moon was taking a shower. Unmasked,...

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