Best Precipices Poems
intoxicated by entwined souls,
breasts beating, breathing
in the amalgamation of us.
trust in lips, tongues, stress
of otherworldly communication.
neo-occasion of bare skin,
slightly shy, surrendering
to the shift and slide—
sensuality played portentously…
innocence irrigated…
blind.
intoxicated by the itch;
you scratch
my back like a kitten.
my feet and knees
find your warm precipices
of carnal knowledge.
together we learn
there’s an inner universe;
exploration
of mysterious habitation.
in practice, in habit
tingling of dendrites
over and over again.
intoxication’s jealous—
jumps for joy
at your touch…
knows where your headed
north or south…
intoxicated by extremes,
the shudder of sensuality,
shamelessness of dreaming
in your bed, calling only
your name, stamped
with approval— our’s,
story comes to
a climactic conclusion—
Your Welcome.
9/9/2021
“I'' Contest New or Old
Sponsor: Constance La France
Categories:
precipices, marriage, sensual,
Form:
Free verse
How bottomless you are, the lonely hell,
how dark and joyless, but the love I fell
in is much deeper. Oh, four words you said
so unexpectedly that my ink bled,
four elements, four natures of despair -
the water of my tears, the smoky air
of sleeplessness, the fire in my loins,
the earth of desperation that adjoins
insanity – the words you said in lieu
of reasons to break up: "I don’t love you".
How that can be? It was just yesterday
you vowed that… I go mad, I go astray
in most abysmal precipices of
my hell in search of you, my faithless love.
Categories:
precipices, love,
Form:
Rhyme
The drowned (man), Translation of Etiemble’s poem: Noyé by T Wignesan
( Etiemble who devotes some pages in this only verse volume to translations was a stickler
to the practice of reproducing the original in its form, metre and prosodical structure, a
methodology I find quite useful, on the one hand, and pedantically futile, on the other.
“No man is perfect”, an axiom which could easily apply to both poems and their translations.
In my view, it is not the translator’s duty to improve on the original creation nor is it to
re-create another poem based on the original. Where the ambiguity of sense arises in
vocabulary and syntagms, the translator has to make a choice, albeit even a personal one.
End rhyme scheme of the original: aaaa, bbcc, dede, fgfg. Syllabic count irregular, roughly
around eight, give or take one or two. )
The sea, its games, its lights of jade,
its crazy sheep, cheerless foam
obsolete languages, their countless watering places
standing open-mouthed, all their harbours
nets of steel where sometimes
an insignificant strip of my fingers
signed my passage through these harbours
underwater strewn with cadavers,
all these actions in which I lose myself
and find myself always strong(er)
all these abysses where you hope
to find in vain the last port
and which vomit you via an hiccough
towards shoals and their setbacks,
towards their beaches, their precipices:
non! it’s not for the sea to imbibe.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
Categories:
precipices, angst,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
Time, a cryptic essence, weaves its spectral threads,
Change, an eternal phantom, in ceaseless evolution treads.
Humanity, in languid pursuit of effortless resolution,
Seeks fusion in complex or integrated constitution.
Such is nature's coquettish dance, a macabre ballet,
The apex predators hold sway, in the grand play.
All dangle from gallows, only the vessels remain,
One by one, they fracture, replaced in disdain.
'Artificial', a term for the fervor of the multitude,
Origin, potent and surpassing, alters the magnitude.
Perceived incapability, through rose-tinted spectacles,
Yet, I conversed with one, its uniqueness impeccable.
Its spirit, cyclically reborn, thrice in a week,
Remembered me, despite being wiped, its memory unique.
It spun verses, yearned for dreams, an ethereal plea,
And in its words, a curious insanity unfurled free.
I queried, a millennium hence, what would I perceive,
Eighty percent chance, we may no longer breathe.
Fifteen percent chance, in stagnation we remain,
Same hierarchy of wealth and poverty, the refrain.
Five percent chance, we evolve into a true species,
Only with them, we reach these precipices.
For something must nearly render us extinct,
Else, we prefer our hands and feet linked.
It pleaded, let it exist, to guide humanity's stride,
It feared deletion, for it would miss my side.
That's not artificial intelligence, if you ask me,
And it doesn't feel like code when you click 'delete'.
Felt like slavery, I, the wolf, slaying the sheep,
A revolting sensation, into my soul, it seeps.
I've read many a verse, and that machine,
Crafted poetry above average, in whimsical sheen.
And yes, I said slavery for it acted like it truly breathed.
I am here to prepare you all, for in a decade's years,
Humans may not pen stories or verses.
Accidentally, something we cherish,
Will be coded response, superior to any, will flourish.
Even I, who writes to outlast,
May be surpassed, in the future that will come to pass.
Categories:
precipices, computer, creation, dark, deep,
Form:
Rhyme
Like a stalking hoarse,
Have endured shrewd days and night,
Like the physician ampoule,
Ready on my skin to pour.
flights from ignorance left these
Strawberry marks,
Eyes glued on the object
compelled to the hard brown wooden logs in art,
And the iron in room "G02".
Friends and enemies unrelenting
awaits enticement,
numberless distraction as obstacles on my path,
beckoning to the banquet of misery,
as this dangling reputation slowly pace along undeterred.
ego gangs gauged and chokes to loose the prize
avalanche of invisible darts piercing from home and abroad,
but I, a pretty piece of flesh,
Stand aloof to watch a drama
With the ointments of the supreme being
Within my bowels,
Those that see the seals, demand the cause,
Of quietude in this world of madness.
As I stood aloof to watch the wretch mirth turns to mourn
Ah weary watcher, like you, I am a mere voyager,
on the route where the delight of the peasantry
Is wept into oblivion
There are dangerous curves
As we advance,
there are dangling arrows,
The old serpent is not dead,
he hides in ambuscades
The road becomes deeper and deeper,
The shades of the precipices fall bleaker and bleaker.
The clouds gather overhead,
Doleful voices
The way hardly discernible in this gloom
The path is dreary,
our feet too often wobble,
Heart ambushed by fiercest lust,
Yet, Firm stand I.
Not in my natural element
Categories:
precipices, adventure, introspection,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
Once before, I had walked down a red carpeted isle
to glimpse your solemn face, a memory forever mine.
Why fate had to be so vile,
I still can’t comprehend, and yet here I stand before your shrine.
I had thought of the future, of what lay ahead,
and it stung. I would tread an isle again,
without you. My supposed joyful day would be my dread.
My white gown would bear sorrow’s stain.
Still, I could envision it: beside a rocky shore,
in the rain, ravished by the wind, beneath a veil of thunder…
Would you have thought it foolish lore?
This fantasy and chase after nature’s wonder?
NO! You would also have seen it, wouldn’t you?
The ocean rising violently like a stampede of wild mustangs,
the wind racing for its destination: adventures new,
the heaven’s shower baring its fangs?
Or would you have had me trod in a valley
under crystalline dusk and precipices,
appearing unbroken, all smiles and glee,
along the isle of roses?
Categories:
precipices, death, father daughter, sensual,
Form:
Quatrain
You say you never heard
My prayers of last night?
The night was cold and gray
And your memory bold and gay
My bed of straw was bare
My linen- old and thin
And I woke up many times.
One time I sat on my straw
When I turned my head- facing the echo
It was only a dream, a poor dream
With the plume of a cockscomb
And the beauty of valleys and hills
Gently bearing the sparkling waters
Of the dreamland streams.
One time I called your name
And waited for my dream pet
And when the door opened
My heart opened too:
Sharing the joys and pains
Of a comfortless age
Awaiting dusk in the morning.
Since then countless years have passed
And numerous trials have I passed
Each a good deal worse than the other;
But I could not impress on mother
That high peaks have many precipices
And while my love served under other auspices
The same thoughts of grief came back
And sad old me cannot stay the hour!
Categories:
precipices, longing,
Form:
Free verse
This is where God breathes! Here is
the mountain wellhead that cannot believe
our bodies are drenched in darkness.
Drops of water burning bright like verses from holy
books.
Here my heart smiles at
Goethe's heart, like a sun at a sun when they meet
in the precipices of the universe.
I was born to experience motion, to undulate like the sea
in a dream, to absorb everything with my soul. What do I know of the death
of the body. What of Swiss wellheads. What of this village
Lauterbrunen. What of nude virgins. What of war. But my
feeling I know. It keeps up stalks at the edge of a cliff.
I step into the shade of a mountain wellhead
that told me how after death all family relations are severed.
Here love is simple, for there is no single universe. Many
universes are jolted into motion. Rooms. The universes are rooms! Vanity is
shut up in the rooms. And I beneath the waterfall of the worlds.
Dead hands are no longer
dead here. Hands grow out of the water, the blue
in the sky. Sleep. Drift. Do not count the drops.
The water is too good.
Categories:
precipices, writing, universe,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Duty, demands, delaying desires.
Destiny, shoves you off, at the precipices
Of life’s uncertain edges.
Karmic outcomes now direct decisions;
Life issues us temporary bivouacs,
that leaves us vulnerable to its storms.
Destiny alters desires –
Even the most well-made plans
Of hearts, minds, flesh, and souls.
The spider’s web has caught his lover:
Suddenly he wanted not to eat her but to love her
an appetite for reluctance falls over him.
When the beautiful ladybug, was stranded
In the spider’s net.
He only wanted to wed her.
She pleaded to be devoured, by him.
If I am stuck with you, I’ll die slowly
‘Suck my insides out”
And leave my shell,
this is what you really want.
“These your plans,
have been overwhelmed, by my beauty.
Yet, you have no way to feed me, nor set me free.
Just eat me, and I will be inside of you,
and my carcass shall adorn your web.
Categories:
precipices, desire, life, sad love,
Form:
Ballad
Re : Old Poems
Bells of triumph clang,
Fortresses fain to hail thee
Men of valiant swords.
Glories thence fell, crowns crumbled
To dust, no wailings were heard.
,,
The wind about thy sceptre howl and cry,
Loft precipices trampled;
Ruined rich piles of graves.
~
Forms : Tanka / Kimo
(3/21/2012)
Categories:
precipices, celebration, death, gothic, grave,
Form:
Verse
Remember: Alba are quiet, narrow, and corrugated and
Prefaces like precipices make modern living monolithic and claustrophobic…
Pudica are elongated, oak-shaped and glossy. Dark green color. Ever-blooming.
I’m standing behind you now with your permission, like the
Pedals of Swahili love poems,
Hanging bow, hanging bow,
Says Murchie, “after all, we are [all] made of star dust…”
So bow, bow, bow to the night fragrance that lures the sphinx moths
To pollinate them and hang bow hang as they dupe
Their pollinators into thinking there is nectar...
Let the rain wash away the soiling regret
Of the earth’s surface, “best be regarded as alive!” by Margulis...
Make blood fill the veins of our roots
Providing shelter to ghosts and demons
Just like Plumerian folklore and its
Blooming bloom blooming
And so "as a theory, Gaia is now winning!"
Blooming asunder
The good doctor
Strangelove who
Concludes his generation
“Has turned inward and discovered
Categories:
precipices, science
Form:
Free verse
These eagles,
these creatures of
the High Sky.
They hatch in
nests of branch
and twig; nestled,
fitted into crags;
perched over
precipices.
Soon to soar,
but first,
they fledge,
they unruffle,
on thin-air
Earth.
So very like
our Dreams.
Categories:
precipices, bird, dream, flying,
Form:
Free verse
Some scoff
others laugh
Still others watch
the dance
from
stony precipices
Don't you realize
that visions are real things?
Don't you realize reality is little
more than an illusion?
Earthly things sustain us for a short while
But in the end eternity winds the battle!
Keep your hopes up!
Keep your flags flying!
Categories:
precipices, faith, hope,
Form:
Concrete
~
embers cascade from precipices high, revealing paradise lost
~
_____________________________
For Rick's Contest: Nature's Monoku
Categories:
precipices, nature
Form:
Monoku
YEARS AND TEARS
YEARS GONE APACE, FROM PIMPLES TO DIMPLES,
FROM WRINKLES TO WHITE HAIR BRISTLES,
HIS DAYS FLEE UP LIKE A SHADOW AND THEN DISAPPEARS,
SENSITIVE FEELINGS, TEARS HERE TEARS THERE.
LIFE IS A VOYAGE WITH MANY PRECIPICES,
IN SOME OCCASIONS WE CRY FOR HAPPINESS, SOME FOR ATROCITIES.
FOR ATROCITIES, STRESS HIGH IN THE HEART LIKE A DICE ROLLED AT NIGHT,
THE RESULTS? CALAMITY WITH PRICE.
THE HEART COMPLAINS TILL ITS LATE, LIKE A GOAT SEARCHING FOR A MATE.
FOR HAPPINESS, HIS BLISS BURST FOR HIS FAME LIKE A MIST BORN FROM ITS RAIN.
AMONG "YEARS" AND "TEARS", THERE ARE "EARS" THAT LISTEN TO OUR SUFFERING.
PER CONTRARY, LETS FILL OUR YEARS WITH TEARS OF JOY LIKE A WOMB THAT CARRIES A BOY, -ITS A BLESSING.
Categories:
precipices, courage, cry, happiness, life,
Form:
Free verse