Breathers Poems | Examples

Behind the Bedroom Door

breathers
inbetweeners
restricted, impassable
threshold

worn down
worn out
closed off

knock knock
i don’t have the heart

to turn her away
life’s knocked her down
the hinges creak
deep breath
I’m open
I’m mom

3-Way Mirrors

Sometimes we throw rocks,
or we might be the rock that is thrown.
Rocks can masquerade as hearts and minds.
Metaphors are three-way mirrors.

When we listen to an Italian love song
we don’t need to understand the words
to feel the romance.
The sound of a great singer
becomes an instrument of Heaven.
Hell also sings.

Old friends can sit for hours
not saying a thing, then arise
completely satisfied by the conversation.
Dogs listen with their noses,
mouth-breathers savor their own thoughts.

Heavens

It has been low, dim, and heavy,
heavens part, light swoops onto open waters,
the overflow of recent torrents
glittering sky-fish skim. 

Keep on driving as if the road were silver rails.
Right and left window worlds out of synch
peripherally bifurcated by speed.

The heavens part un-stitching fraying seams,
smudges unravel. Light pushes
into the open mouths of surface breathers.

The grey is rent, more light bounces off eyes;
it is a fast road; squint, grip the wheel tighter.

Left and right small animals un-plod
from the wet earth, hedgerows whisk thin colors
expose nestlings in their cradle hideaways.

Pick up a cup of instant noodles,
a 6-pack from the quickie mart.
On the lot heavens are opening 
one acre at a time,
light lowers like a faded wedding gown
marbling concrete
dressing the cars in lacy.

Reach into condo, eat noodles, drink beer
while heavens knit together
with a last twinkle of silver needles.

Covid-Ation

COVID-ATION

A blanket of grief
covers the earth,
  “moaning’s”
from life-breathers;

So much loss-
the cycle of death,
seemingly endless.

Hope dwindles, but
we remember how,
having come through
similar traumas,
we can reach out-
holding “virtual hands”,
smiling into mirrors
of dim unknowns-

Our lights break forth,
  and “paired”,
we walk courageously
towards a distant shore
of safety and relief…

by: Thama Logan
October 13, 2020

Covid-Ation

A blanket of grief
covers the earth,
  “moaning’s”
from life-breathers;

So much loss-
the cycle of death,
seemingly endless.

Hope dwindles, but
we remember how,
having come through
similar traumas,
we can reach out-
holding “virtual hands”,
smiling into mirrors
of dim unknowns-

Our lights break forth,
  and “paired”,
we walk courageously
towards a distant shore
of safety and relief…

by: Thama Logan
       October 13, 2020

Infectious Warbling

Pox pigeon carrier of pestilent tidings,
those carcase messages
kiln blow in the air
like urn ashes

What dour condor news
does thou fading twilight beak bring?
Witching hour hex blues
only the grave vex tomb vulture sing

Let the dirt breathers 
allow a woe amplitude of fear
to impregnate their ear
So every womb bereaver
will shed a stillborn tweet tear

Haughty hope gasp dies
in the darkness of pre-dawn
As cryo crows of the nether voyage
carrion wave crypt cries,
from broken vial eyes, 
of next-gen passenger pawns

Hear the infectious warbling,
a decaying flesh sound
of ill vibrations
O howl 
the boo ravens abound
Void sickly the caw noise sing

Thirteen Does the Watusi

Dancing in the widow peak, doing the watusi as only hair knows how to do
The flamingo pinked up in face and beak, annoying man and dog.
Prancing along comfortably, her light blue eyes laughed and whistled.
Beyond caring how the masses would perceive her pleasured craziness.

Craziness inspired by unicorn breath that danced among flowers and song.
Sight unseen, but heard and often, in the bowels of the juice box breathers.
Nose tried to go along, but had a mind of her own which was reluctant.
Resilient certainly, as her face was proud in its persistent preservation.

Masses did not care, did not know, did not imagine or care about her in the least. 
Also thirteen, the year of the superficial dragon, creature and all-knowing beast.
Fired up, dancing carelessly as teenagers do whose brains are on fire, 
The flamingo laughed, issuing orders, dainty whispers echoing in her nose hairs.

Madness Has Triggered the Pen

People are like lobsters crawling in dirt 
with brain cells less advanced than a jellyfish 
always digging in the sand without salt they would disappear 
They could not breathe the fresh air if it were poisoned by chemicals 
fresh water has a better taste unpolluted
Chocolate starfish slimy sea slugs
Silly cones, fake plastic barbies
Toxic people in toxic world
None the wiser
Modern day zombies
Yes men plugged into the machine
Greedy 1 % sharks living off the tuna only scraps to the bottom feeding mouth breathers poor bastards
Fed only bull they kindly ask
"Please sir may I have some more?"

A Liam MacDaibheid and Antonio Acosta
Collaboration

The Intelligence of Tuna

There where the tuna sleep mighty
Wet as usual imprisoned in ocean
There are creatures above with poles
The oxygen nitrogen breathers 
The ones with limbs on their sides
With eyes facing front fashioned to hunt
Beings that live in the thin environment
Trying to take the tuna out one by one
To take them home and fry them quickly
How naive these killers of tuna are
Do they really think they can trick a fish
With lures and lines and an ugly worm
Dangling in front of them for amusement 
Tuna were not born yesterday you know
They come from noble eggs exposed at birth
Ready to attack or swim away to safety
To protect their dignity from the depraved
What harm have tuna ever done to men
Have they no shame when they go fishing
When they hang them like trophies on a wall
Make sandwiches of them for a child's lunch 
Tuna never go to war or betray the trust of others
True.  They do not respect their mothers
But if they knew them that would be another story
A fish story for sure

A World Full of Heavy

Is it just me or is the world getting too heavy,
And it way past time for us to lighten our load.

We seem to be making even our going heavy,
When our passing should leave the world carrying a lighter load.

There has been a noted increase of heavy breathers,
So, I have been told.

Equipment is now heavy,
So, we can lighten our load.

We pay a price that is heavy,
For a products that are old.

Our baggage is now too heavy,
For a single plane to hold.

Our homes are now heavy,
From carrying too much mold.

We all now catch colds that are heavy,
To add to our load.

Our hands no longer capable of work that is heavy,
Struggle to lighten our load,

It may sound a bit heavy,
To be so bold.

But it is time to get more heavy,
To lighten our load.

Prince Namor the Sub-Mariner

PRINCE NAMOR    THE SUB-MARINER

Namor Mckenzie an Atlantean
though your skin pink
ankle wings
the rest of your fellow  Atlanteans
skin colors blue
Under water, under sea lives
the creatures who breathe in water
And though your father
Seaman Captain Leonard Mckenzie
Mother is Princess Fen
Some mortals and scientist consider him the first mutant
For most of his life Namor been fighting air/land breathers
Most of the land dwellers fear him
Only one female human he almost loved
A member of the Fantastic 4
Susan Richards the Invisible Girl
Now before her was Atlanteans Princess Lady Dorma
Namor fought New Yorker's even fought  the Nazi's in World War two
In one of his fits of rages  on the  ice glaciers near Antartica
Namor throws a random ice cycle inside was hero frozen in suspended-
animation
Was hero Captain America
All this happen in the 1960's
This none aging Atlantean 
What a watery super hero
Once an Invader, Defender on land, sea, or air
Namor Mckenzie an Atlantean
  PRINCE NAMOR    THE SUB-MARINER

11/21/17 
written words by James Edward Lee Sr.
from "anthology Heroic Couplets of Marvel Comic  by James E. Lee Sr. Vol 1."

Untitled

Aye! 

The joyous ocean creatures awoke 
And the coward fire-breathers begun its dance

The sea of no end now draws a line
And the mighty swimmers of silence called aloud

But beneath the Captain's cabin
The brave ol' carrier now peeps

And so gone with the rudder, the hull and keel
The lone old drifter crashed its sails

But calling from afar are dreams souring high
Wicked vultures pulling them savagely down

And I behind the pen...uttered not a word

Yellowstone

Abundance of life
Water-fire-breathers
Home to extinction

By Invitation Only, Unless You Speak Jade

My finger throbbed, sliding red water splashing upon the slick topography, it was almost impossible to hide the laceration from these half-breed hybrids. Horns and ties, flesh costumes and ash shoes these monsters shifted between frames of realm breathers and daemonic vampirism. Cold cropped stares strung to petrify the weak hearted. She displayed elegant opulence in impervious form. Shadows among and behind me I could not touch her. Sadness dampens those cheeks of blush. If I could I would dry them but these minions of yours continue to bite my hand. 
Can you hear my screams? 
They tend to drown out your cries. Why are you hiding inside that mentality of flawed construct? Your lashes of sorrow blessed of the memories of a past swallowed by pride. 
Look in the mirror, who is the most jaded of them all? Perhaps it is you who continues to bite my hand. 
Without a tongue I no longer can scream, you made sure my words would be no more. 
I only wanted to ask you if my heart still beats, or have you abolished it as well? 
-Mitch

Hearing From Mates, Moment Sharers, Companions In a Hallway

HEARING FROM MATES, MOMENT SHARERS, COMPANIONS IN A 
DIFFERANT PART OF THE HALLWAY

The clouds remind me
Of the thoughts that sprang between us,
Some puffed like dandelion balls
Ready to be blown
        and drift,
Broccoli headed breathers amid
The streaming locks on an Ancient.
Like the ribs  of a leaf
       left bare from decay
Or furry as moth antenna.

A swan-like image
     and winged horses
Rode on areas blue,
The swan into a buck did turn
The horse to a sheep,
Then the sun started to set
And I had thoughts of sleep.

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