Best Stagnancy Poems
“Here lieth baby Rachel
Born 10th Sept 1894 Died 30th Oct 1896”
Marble stone that lays above the head,
white chippings that blanket the body,
flowerless vase that sits naked
crying out for a fragrant moment
if only to perfume its stagnancy.
I see an odorous pool being replenished,
rain drops aiding hope and life,
a renewal to the neoclassical container
that one day must have been complemented
with loving hands of grief.
I find no track to this lonely corner,
forgotten in this living place of death!
No visitor to gaze upon its epitaph
no one to care “Whom here lieth”
Beneath this broken monument.
“Velvet skin that the cruel age turns to husks,
naked bones left to mature the grass above,
weeping willow guardian of shade and light,
Who! Knows what nourishment
its searching tentacles beget.”
“Corpus soul aimlessly floating in limbo,
looking at me here this very minute?
Feeling my sensitivity as I stand here, alone,
Is there no escape for anyone?
‘Unless life is indeed the enemy’”
Warped in thought I stare at her monument,
built by caring minds and dexterous hands,
tradesmen whom with spade and chisel
penetrated sculptured within nature
just to honour a child’s brief life on earth.
I walk away along the newly beaten track,
grass and nettle bow before my impending stride,
my mind is wrenched with reverence,
I climb aboard my mechanized shovel
“I wonder why! Why should it bother me so!”
© Harry J Horsman 1992
(Spock)
Captain, sensors indicate a power surge
Resonating through their ship's body
I'm sure I don't have to remind you
They have their own Scotty
(the questioning me)
But where has faith brought us?
As I look around I see
A species not asking any questions
About the infinite possibilities
(the faith-based me)
But that's why it's called faith
Trusting in what you cannot see
All things can be yours
If you will just........ believe....
(the questioning me)
I hear what you're saying
Catchy slogans always dazzle me
But once people think they're right
Then there's only eternal stagnancy
(Spock)
And Captain don't forget our mission
The beauty of opening new doors
To go to those forbidden places
Where no man has gone before
With the sadness of lost friendship
And as I look into my own eyes
The damage of my faith-based fears
Struggling as I say the word, "Fire"
Photons rip through the hull
Of this Enterprise of faith
And the exaggerated look of horror
Spreads across both of our face
And now I consider the wreckage
Of a species void of curiosity
Silently content to be powerless
And stare mindlessly at a TV
And I wonder if all new awareness
Must first go through this stage
As we learn that asking questions
Is not indicative to faith
Captain's Personal Log,
There is a sadness that comes from destroying the part of me that wants
so desperately to believe in something. Yet I have found this faith always
leads to a limitation of consciousness, a stagnancy of awareness that
leads to a retraction of my identity, and ultimately to the most unbearable
unhappiness. But now I wish to stop looking to what others want me to
believe, and to look to myself. No fear of the judgments I was taught as
a child. No fear of abandoning always what someone else always told
me. The thrill of the stars is calling me, and I want to go where no man........
has gone before...........
Form:
an evil damns the stream
a stagnancy so deadly,
life cannot not run
its natural course.
©Kathryn McLoughlin Collins
November 18, 2012
When did this ambivalence fluxed into happiness,
When this happiness boisterously took over mind’s stagnancy,
Till today I had bounded it to mere laughter,
Till when I kept waiting for my jocundity in the mere faces around,
Didn’t I know,
All this already puns in my heart,
Ah this happy-Ness dwells in my very self,
Really this very essence of my life, resides in my soul!
This serenity, in which I actually float, furtively I say,
Didn’t I know,
Of this poignant happiness,
When my sight is blessed with their faces,
It is stunning me out of the bizarre conventionality,
From where am I being enlightening? With this happiness,
Didn’t I know,
Even under darkness, this happiness is fondling me,
Making my life utopia,
this is Providence, surely,
it is all around me and in me,
really didn’t I know !...
To be happy for no reason,
To be grateful for having life,
To be nurtured and loved unconditionally,
To appreciate this beauty of deflection of life,
Before …of This happiness, really! didn’t I know !
.......................................................................................................
dedicated to my parents (they are all i have), and to the friends who accompany me on poetrysoup, thankYou so much ,for appreciation and love, all of you .
(for M.T.)
Some days you wake up
You look in the mirror
You’re afraid of the fire
Afraid of the furor
Your heart skips gaily
Over each error
Like the bumps that curb your speed
You’re waiting for Friday
Waiting for June
That plan ‘round the corner
That golden moon
Cracks in the leather and grease on your spoon –
You’re the last of a dying breed
I used to know what
To say to my friends
Dusting off jokes
Or making amends
What do we care
which language offends?
The garden should welcome its weeds
But they’re retiring jerseys
And burning books
TV won’t age you
If you hold on to your looks
You’re a man called Horse
Swinging from their hooks
Yes, the last of a dying breed
Isn’t it strange?
We were here just a short while ago
The petals of sweet innocence
Immune to the wind
Isn’t it strange?
You forget everything that you know
And the altar of experience
Demands a list of your sins
Time’s a tilted table
Time’s a thrown fight
Time would have you go gentle
Off into the night
But time don’t bear in mind
Your deep appetite
And the force on which you feed
In the Army of Stagnancy,
It’s “don’t ask, don’t tell”
Just think of those ladies
at the poisoned well
And greet the humid weather
And bid fond farewell
To the last of a dying breed.
Deceptive favorite
Smiles and bites
Causing stagnancy.
In the multitude of counsellors there is life,
Running away implies stabbing yourself with your knife.
I’m inside a cyclone, you think I should run?
You even went on to tag my stagnancy as dumbness,
I’m not a fool you know. Positioned myself in its centre
For I know that in the eye of a cyclone there’s calmness.
You feel I’m off-guard when I actually feel like I’m in a venter.
My birth canal is in the vertical, where I’m not impaired of my view
I fix mine eyes to the heavens where I know there’s my breakthrough.
In the midst of drunkards there’s sure a fog of immature diction.
Engaging means emigrating from the principle of lingual timing.
Words are powerful entities, they can unveil people’s identities.
When your mind is pixilated, the words you speak can intoxicate
Your persistent entity, your individuality. Even if it may be a while
There’s just some hostility about it and what if it compiles
In the long run, leaving your choice of words forever numb?
In a bad company is a formed aura of non-believe,
There’s a rapid leakage of faith with slim chance of retrieve.
The Bible is on point, “bad company corrupts good character”
It is said that character is the you that exists
When all are gone and you have only you in your midst.
Now think, external injections are depriving your character cells nutrients.
The torture is aimed at you, once activated there is severe suffering.
But, you'll have to bear the yoke alone when your God's desired character
Starts to haunt you!
There's fullness of joy in the presence of the Lord
And for those who really seek it, life is never really odd.
the sloth yawns at time
inert, as listless minutes
turn wasted hours to years
work is left undone
avoided like a poison
the very thought, repugnant
the useless hand rules
in sluggish monotony
repeated “ad nauseam”
hear the weary sighs
a disinterest in ideas
thinking takes too much effort
how dull the moments
how easy to lay around
drearily, suffocating
and so the sloth goes
through blank, barren idleness
wallowing in stagnancy
Written on 10/23/2018
A speed in stagnancy?
i doubt possible
but to believe in greatness
is to be limitless
making every barrier
a barrel of exploration of opportunity
and every opportunities, a moment
moment to exhibit limitless capabilities
for a limitless world is not a world
without obstacles
but a world with courage and bravery
to change the unchangeable
and face our fears...
stagnancy is something not new to me,
it's just have become overwhelming off late.
stale moments, motionless hours,
clinge to my identity as alter ego.
numbed emotions make even prayer incomplete,
stone heart mises nobody on earth.
cell bars' perpetual shadow make stripes on my body permanent
for fifteen years i have been standing at the same place
my world - squeazed into 7 by 4 ft rectangular room,
life has become a mere waiting station for death.
I till date believe I have not yet got accustomed to this place.
So much to say
But, the glimpse of light
Took my seat
Left me in awe
Of his big gentle smile
Passing on anemic, passing in strength
Stagnancy retired
The eagle fly freely and back hunting again
Long live Dominion
How to Feel When Your House Burns Down
The home you are raised in is a mother tongue.
I was four when it was built, an age when innocence
turns river water and all that lives within to blood.
First birthdays and first dances fortify the mantel.
This home transports milestones, our own vessel
to move us from sidewalk chalk to the attempt to outrun
the stagnancy found only in the debilitation of the long run.
At seven, I held him in my arms and love upon my tongue.
Promises danced on my lips and ran rampant on my vessels.
College funds started in a baby bottle, tiny wishes held in a cent.
I remember grappling with his growth, attempting to mantle
the affinity we pinky promised deep into our own blood.
At twelve, my father taught me to dance in the blood
and glass on the hardwood. Still, I watch his fingers run
to sow flowers in my mother's hair, her back, mantling,
the image of infatuation, true love, in our minds. A tongue
of tenderness has our childlike innocence
giggling and shouting at the inamoratas and the vessel
of devotion in which each of us was vesselled
into this life. Each of us was born in the fervor of blood,
so sweet. My mother threaded honey, burned incense,
and chewed lemon slices whole to hold us near. She ran
baths of salts and oils, to cleanse the ever growing tongue
of infernos that caressed, more captivated, our mantel
of consciousness. For many years, we tied sheets to mantels.
With pillows and blankets, we’d build ourselves a vessel
to a land of fairies and warriors who shared the same tongue.
Pool noodles became swords. Here we spilled blood,
convincing ourselves if we were to sprint, leap, run
fast enough we too could fly amongst the rest, innocent
to the world around us. At nineteen, I watch the innocence
leave our home. Adolescent memories that kiss the mantel
turn to sharp licks in the wild fire that is running
through the bones of our sweltering home, the vessel
of affinities, dances, compassion, imagination, and the blood
that connects it all, now lapped up with tongues,
too heavy for the innocent, a cancerous burn in our vessels.
The mantle of snow is no relief to the flames that drip like blood.
And still, we do not run, we wait for the final lick of a mother's tongue.
We hold the reigns to victory, or defeat - or that awful purgatory of in-between.
May 11, 2018
Note: Written in an email in regards to the state of stagnancy.
The thud of the chalk duster
Scatters the young minds
Of the dying grass
The lessons they rote like mist
Rolling over mountains of screams
To muffled ears
Plastic bags of white powder
Clouds so many innocent dreams
Into body bags
The school gates open
To the street teaming with life lessons
From short supplied textbooks
The history books turn a page
To wet fingers of a silent class
Itching for progress in their stagnancy
Flickering like a candle
Placed in a half empty glass
Tossed into the wind to echo ignorance
Locked behind high cement walls
Laughter poured from a tap of love
To water the seeds of the fruit of knowledge
Lifted lightly from familiarity
Sleep's gesture caresses cells
Taken to nearby bewilderment
Where stagnancy busily dwells
Liquid lambent shooting star forms fragment
Vapid vexations vanquished in fantasy's fire
Mist masked span transcends measurement
Vision's fusion surpasses language quagmire
Imprisoned waking cognition
held in category's secure structure
Dispelled impediments crash cascade
preceding sleep's redeeming tenure
Ignited sizzling spiral whimsical continuum
Themes undulate with kiss and chase thrill
Trauma's feather sinks, treasure 's stone floats
Detached components reconcile at will
Dream chariot leaps easily
Obliges unassuming passenger
uncover unique anecdote
Intriguing as a stranger
Driven chivalrously soaring splendidly, lured enticingly
Revelling in brain' s carried captivation sole function
Travelling happens spontaneously without momentum
Contented centre offers converging clock hands junction
Revelations ripple, expanding truth
Roller coaster riding outside reality
Symbol's eventual meaningful messages
rise as a halo, impartial to gravity
Reason's region, sensible staid evades taboo
Indetectibly dilating pineal stillness vibrates
Untouched pastures in sleep domain permit oblivious
From fences of accepted, dream's newborn liberates
Catapulted!
Conscious corners sent as envelope ratified
deliver obvious, wafting surreal's torment
Clumsy clambering of mind identified
hankers for hibernation's brief dormant