Best Ducts Poems
Tears no longer come,
dried ducts of wrung emotion,
denied one more drop of release.
... but only to feel
Feel your finite presence beside me,
inhaling your sweet scent to memory.
Feel your heart pulsate through the calfskin
of the despair that seals me in its snare.
Rhythms of a hopeless eternity of love,
not destined for us.
Feel my heart bleeding for one more glimpse,
of the exquisite life and love in your eyes.
Shuttered now from a lifetime of shared souls.
The pianist plays one last song,
as tears fall upon your coffin.
Won't you give me a sign,
to show me the way to you.
I wonder what has become of me,
my soul a definition of despair,
my mind a metaphor for insanity,
my heart silenced by the loss of your call.
Above, all I see are murky skies,
even the stars hide from me.
I'm sure the moon shed a tear,
when the sun refused to shine on me.
In the hope there is no tomorrow,
I lay here with your photograph on my pillow.
... but time ticks so slowly
__________________________________
A Collaboration - Silent One & Judith S.
September 21, 2018
Categories:
ducts, bereavement, best friend, death,
Form:
Free verse
Standing firm
we live
we give
we take
we learn
we strive to make sure
each day enlightens us
and brightens us
even as light fades to gray
may we keep fighting
with two swollen feet
beneath the body and soul
experiencing trials
and intense life lessons
meshed with stresses
may we persevere
turn off fear's song
may we stand firm
as we glide along
through shifty winds of change
that may cause things to sway
rearrange
but we hold true
inside the values and morality
we stand for
we
fall for nothing
we
may stumble along the trip
we
may swerve at the wheel yet
we
do not lose our grip
because no one
can eclipse the sun
yet
everyone heals
before they're done
Just when situations arise
flooding us with pain we despise
and just when it seems like
our tear ducts are dry
from ongoing cries
we may think
things are on the brink of ending
then God shows us the ways of faith
by way of love that he's sending
Standing firm
we live
we give
we take
we learn
we make sure
every day enlightens us
and brightens us
as each day takes its turn.
~JSLambert
Categories:
ducts, black african american, day,
Form:
Carpe Diem
Tears no longer come,
dried ducts of wrung emotion,
denied one more drop of release.
... but only to feel
Feel your finite presence beside me,
inhaling your sweet scent to memory.
Feel your heart pulsate through the calfskin
of the despair that seals me in its snare.
Rhythms of a hopeless eternity of love,
not destined for us.
Feel my heart bleeding for one more glimpse,
of the exquisite life and love in your eyes.
Shuttered now from a lifetime of shared souls.
The pianist plays one last song,
as tears fall upon your coffin.
Won't you give me a sign,
to show me the way to you.
I wonder what has become of me,
my soul a definition of despair,
my mind a metaphor for insanity,
my heart silenced by the loss of your call.
Above, all I see are murky skies,
even the stars hide from me.
I'm sure the moon shed a tear,
when the sun refused to shine on me.
In the hope there is no tomorrow,
I lay here with your photograph on my pillow.
... but time ticks so slowly.
20 September 2018
Collaboration with Judith S
Categories:
ducts, death, true love,
Form:
Free verse
Our hearts were a veritable slow dance
And I didn’t have to put my baby
In the corner
Our retinas
became diamond forged binds
In serenity’s lock
Dipping
Your tear ducts within our wishing wells
Never
Running
Dry
Our flesh
Bringing lukewarm elasticity
To gentle boil
Every graceful thrust
Mimicking fireplace embers
Under cabin’s winter moon
Until my deep sigh
Embedded paragraphs
Within “Dear John” parchment
…
At least
Trinity’s hourglass
Permitted me to sing I love you choruses
Before your hearts’ phone line
Disconnected
…
©Drake J. Eszes
Categories:
ducts, dream, life, longing, lost
Form:
Free verse
I
I knew a time when my sister, tall and fair
with her sage sense of humor, dull and non-existent
Seemed positively,
metallic, blessed with flowing shackles, a gift, extended only to me.
Limiting my growth past 8 years, haunting my dreams until age 21
always advising her younger sis, to teary boredom
“Do as I say”, “whereso’er I may”
Lend me your shoe to prove my superiority.
By night or day,
I am your stone Buzzard and I will pick your bones
II
This I suffered
The rainbow might as well have been between us,
For the roses lost their petals long ago
I can no longer feel their thorns, my toughened skin
Yet lately when I turn to cry for you,
The pain is far greater than I should bear
For (you) seep, from my tear ducts, a bloodless water driblet
Injury that keeps finding its way out
Purging the likes of you
In twin tissues
III
Infuriates me.
Each night from my pillow writhed
Come darkened silhouettes of your pigtails
I inhale one, in each nostril,
just so I can blow you away
Are you a sister of another mister?
My tormenter, my thumb umbrella
Cleanse me from your sticky sight
Allow my legs to find that gentle breeze called freedom
Before the very bone that we share dies
Making us look upon our mirrors
To find the frozen cordial face
As we pretend to plant, a history, of fond remembrance
When we are but plowing, our indignations in the ground
IV
Unbeknownst
I knew a time when my sister, tall and fair,
Sat braiding her curly brown hair
Finding me sleeping, without nary a sound
Wrapped her tight braid, around and around
Laughing as my life was slipped from sight
Dragging me constantly, round that night
So what if I, but a babe in skin
Was found by Dad, in the playpen
Hence, since, even now, my skin, crawls
Afraid of the hair in red overalls
Categories:
ducts, childhoodme, night, me, night,
Form:
Ode
I'm Just Getting Started
I'm just getting started, though I'm not in control,
But I am all dressed and indubitably, very well-composed,
virtuously loved by many, with honored adulation exposed,
so I lie and wait, but ready to go, anew, in my dapper clothes.
A broken watch on a floor, as time ticks onwards as before,
A kiss that's giving--believing, a kiss that's receiving--deceiving,
The moon coasts to attuned hearts that are squabbling on a lane,
Stars twinkle to sparkled wishes pouring from tear ducts of the hopeless,
Night waves surge, tickling the traipsing shoeless of the fully-clothed.
Baby falls to ahhs!--cries--carried, cuddled to coos,
Then wide-eyed to wonders of weird faces of two adult fools,
A writer's measure can be the length of a Tolstoy novel or the brevity of a Haiku,
Mata Hari can read her victims like a book, while Cassanova can undress pages with his looks,
The blessed and the bliss read scriptures from this,
While Cain to the cursed cast spells and do their worst,
From the sublime to the lowly, to the noteworthy and the ordinary,
From Titanic's affluent first-class to her destitute in steerage,
One day we will stand equals, titless bearing none other,
The Book Of Life is read, there stands, once a king next to a pauper.
2019 September 13
*5th Place*
I'm just getting started
~~John Hamilton
Categories:
ducts, conflict, dream, judgement, perspective,
Form:
Free verse
One day out.
Still crying to sleep,
All because I’m missing you,
And your gaze.
I’m entranced by you.
My mind whirls about your face,
And you’re not even around.
The smallest thing that reminds me of you,
Triggers the tear ducts to fill.
It hurts to look at the pictures,
Of us.
Because I know that I won’t see you for awhile.
Too long, if you ask me.
Summer has come,
And I’m still waiting for it to pass.
Can’t last,
I’m sure, much longer.
I’m missing you.
I’m missing me.
Because you hold my heart and soul in your palm.
Take care of it,
For I am missing you,
And will need to see you soon.
Categories:
ducts, loss, love, sad, sympathymissing,
Form:
Free verse
Child play. Dawn, as a wind-up toy,
jumping up and down, keen.
A buoyant verdancy of joy -
waking up fresh and green.
Waking up fresh and green.
The ivy…the oaks and weeps.
On the salient morning I lean.
Whatever this day…it is for keeps.
Wiping tears and sand from ducts.
The ascension of the sun display.
Pink and purple passion constructs.
I hit my knees, look up and pray.
I hit my knees, look up and pray.
A humble approach - prism of self
seen through Christ - in Him I stay.
To deep dive today, I entrust myself…
To deep dive today, I entrust myself,
into God’s faithful word. The good news,
sharp and alive, off my bookshelf,
With Christ, my hope, I’ve nothing to lose.
Whatever this day…it is for keeps.
There is one who shapes each cockcrow.
I know my Lord and Savior never sleeps.
His faithfulness - dawn’s enduring glow.
6/1/2023
Categories:
ducts, morning,
Form:
Rhyme
Tears fight their way back
into their ducts for now
moist palms clammy at my sides
Prayers are said
the living honor the dead
shovelfuls of earth on top are spread
Is there nothing more I can do
~ She once told me ‘I love you’
Categories:
ducts, funeral, grief, loss, love,
Form:
Elegy
Lost in Youth
Rainbows in the clouds, walking on railroad tracks , locomotives up close
Kickball games , I am left footed, spooky reflections in a mirror, running naked
Wooden desks and chairs, kids in the classroom , the little girl across the street
Black and white T.V., Air conditioning , a new blue car, exhaust fumes
The farm, coal fired furnace , warm heating ducts
a collie , a cocker spaniel and a horse named Thunder
Dark starry nights , telescopes , comets and satellites
Northern winters, snow covered fields ,sledding, frozen lakes , and Orion
Camping in fields , mosquitoes bites , quiet dawns and heavy morning dew,
Grandparents ,riding lawn mowers , apple trees , flower and vegetable gardens
Southern Summers , warm muggy nights , ceiling fans ,open screened windows
Screened in porches, ancient toys, , tiny transistor radios, baseball games talking late into the night
Badminton , side lawns , and long rides home
Public pools , icy waters and underwater swims
Trombone , marching band and high school football games
Sleepy classes, friends , lunchroom games, and girls
High school graduation , college and final goodbyes
Categories:
ducts, introspection, school, graduation, games,
Form:
List
The mechanical components, the valve that pumps my heart
The reactive nerve endings that serve a sensory stimulus
The tear ducts that latently only lend lubrication
The silly little practical necessary body bits, pieces and parts
I yawn & it reminds me… I should probably inhale & exhale
I smile because it is simply facial muscles that need exercise
I do mechanical muscle management to strengthen & maximise
Biomechanical body’s like mine don’t simply go frail..
My skin surface is stimulated, & sympathetically constricts.. it must be cold?
My mental function set to maintain a neutral base
My muscles, skeletal system, ligaments, tendons & bony structures
Encapsulated by a mechanised myofascial web, complete the outer mould
Organs operate internally as a well serviced engine, its all systems go
Emotions just pesky little hormone imbalances, from a time long ago
Where we as woman once needed in order to reproduce
Will evolution shrink our ovaries as they have outgrown their use?
My tongue embraces words, my tongue the sharpened sword
I trip stumble & fall and my senses heighten
My pelvic floor constricts & I feel it twitch & tighten
I massage the distressed muscles & release multiple rewards
It’s my body, it’s my temple, my vessel my machine
Not some sensitive, high strung weak inferior copy of a male
It is supple, soft and silky to the touch, all curves & contours
It’s my body, it’s my temple, my vessel my machine……
Categories:
ducts, beautiful, gender, identity, woman,
Form:
Light Verse
I've have never
experienced that bubbly love
that everyone apparently has...
Stolen kisses,
"say cheese" camera flash,
"no you hang up first" phone
calls...
"I can't stop thinking about
you" text messages.
My love has been horrendous
and terrifying and painful...
I have experienced...
"please stop hurting me"
"I'm sorry, I'll make it better"
"I'll try harder just don't leave"
"please stop insulting me"
So while everyone around me,
receives their texts, silently I
wish I were them,
I cry with invisible tears,
Inaudible Screams
And fake smiles...in public of
course
"I don't know how love could do
this to me"
Anthem of my pitiful life...
I'm in bewilderment that my
tear ducts are still fully
functioning...
More crying to go perhaps?
I was a firm believer in that
miracle creating love..
Avid dreamer and practitioner
of that
"I'll never let go jack"
"no its not gonna be easy, its
gonna be really hard, but I
want you"
"none shall perish, none shall
die"
"ever thine,ever mine,ever
ours"
But as the faiths would have it,
my love never reciprocated
these quotations.
And after all the sleepless
nights, and..
" Kentrell, don't throw up your
food"
" To cut or not to cut" -( refrain
of the century)
"She's not gonna call, give up,
move on"
I have faced the bitter fact...
That for some cruel, lesson
seeking reason,
I was destined for this,
That the one person that I
loved more than reading,
Would be the one person to
bless me with such
unforgettable hurt.
So for now my refrain is "You
and I once we were lovers"
bless you Luther Vandross..
Till that almost perfect knight in
shining armor,
completes my refrain,
Ever thine, ever mine, ever
ours..
Categories:
ducts, emotions, lost love,
Form:
ABC
SWILL
The sadness epoch has never exist.
Life is just full of inadequacies.
I know that many may disagree.
Insofar as humanity is perilous and iniquity, we must never lose ourselves within these means.
I want to cry but I do not have the strength.
My eyes are dry and my mind lives.
A man can peak a mountain with ease.
He can venture into the unknown without asking for help to proceed.
Therein, he may find knowledge of long ago.
If not, he will become thirsty with the need to know.
He may want to cry but his tear ducts have closed.
He is out of water and his life is exposed.
The rain poured and the well was dry.
The drought has been on since summertime.
Today the country rejoice.
Once they were out of water, but now each life has been replenished.
We are the people that must feel.
We were created by a real God; therefore, we are given the will to live.
Wash
Drench
Drink!
__________________________________________________________________|
Penned February 15, 2015!
Categories:
ducts, birth, courage, culture, faith,
Form:
Rhyme
M eandering through a maze of feelings
Y ou wash,cleansing as you sweep them afar
T raveling through the ducts you come cascading
E ach crystalline drop glistening and warm
A llowing release to ragged nerves and emotions
R eleasing pain or irrepressible joy and
S oftly and silently you flood your gates and appease
~*~
By Annalise
For: H.G. Harvey "A Tear Personification", Contest.
Categories:
ducts, life, sad
Form:
Acrostic
Clocks in the house were all but removed
I chose utter quietude over malicious ticks and tocks.
Adhering to schedules was reliant on the angles of the sun,
and the sandy family hourglass artifact sitting by the side
of me at my station, every hour on the hour reminding, and
I myself being ready to flip. This was how not to live
as a farmer and still be a slave to the working of grains.
The sanctity of my spinning room was also my prison for
forty hours every week, and a third of my adult life.
Pressing down on the pedal below to see the top half rotate
and as my world turns I sometimes get approached.
With significant fibers, their casual orders are mine for marching,
working that spindle to the satisfaction of the customer,
as was every occasion but my last one, the best one, the only one
that I'll remember as special, delivering my soul from boredom.
My only daughter, sweet thing, no siblings to rival with
unless a naked, well tattered doll counts. She took it on adventures
to the moon while I couldn't see my child, my savior expanding horizons.
It was silly not to see her blowing about carefree as the wind that day
without concerns over food and shelter all she desired was the deepest
one of all. She was sleeping on desires with every chance to dream for her
best friend a modest cape for him to fly. Deep inside I knew her spirits
and that doll would ride the same breeze but I had to say no for the silk
was not mine. The customer was always right until the next day
when I stepped out to the corner store for the bite of a sour apple,
returning to an open door the hourglass was broken and my spindle bare.
The world had stopped spinning, time had stopped existing… so long
comfortable rut. Mortified for a brevity, just when I thought worlds
couldn't change, mine had with the crashing of an antique. The glass
littered beach on the floor was proof of that. The spindle was stripped of
its importance and all of a sudden it hit me fast, so fast I smiled.
My daughter was no devil and yet she was the culprit stealing
my heart before and a cape now but it was okay,
just this once, to have a family legacy mocked
for the prosperity of a child's imagination.
Seeing them fly in the backyard I dripped gentle
waves from tear ducts upon that glass scattered beach
secretly grateful, values in my life were restored.
Categories:
ducts, introspection, work, world, family,
Form:
Free verse