Creasing Poems | Examples

Of Crows and Possums

Sitting on a long deck
At a trailer
In South Georgia
Wind in the Pine Trees
Reading Nathaniel Hawthorne

My stomach is empty
except for
this longing and guilt

A murder of Crows
loudly soar through
Creasing the boughs of the Pines
It is only
Them and I
And

Love that I left
Love that I lost

A hollow serenity settles in

I pull at the Scarlet Letter
Blazing on my chest
Hester exposed

As the Sun sets
A Possum skirts the front yard
Unnoticing me

He is my Kinfolk
An eater of ticks
An old world scavenger
Deceiving the world
Playing dead

Yet
I cannot
The blood on my hands
isn't mine

Die with a smile

If the world was ending,
I'd wanna be next to you;
witnessing the last sunset,
in the mirror of your pearl-shaped eyes
I'd kiss the oysters that cradle them,
one last time before it's too late.

I'd trace your bittersweet tears 
with a trail of kisses,
tasting the salty ocean that
burns up your wounds and fears.
untangling your brunette mesh,
as they tighten their grasp
afraid to let go;

I'll embrace you,
until your ice-cold body
melts into my burning chest.
blinded by the myths of forever,
will the dawn rise on us again, ever? 
So I'mma love you every night,
like it's the last night.

Your smile fades, the dimples too
no longer creasing your ivory skin,
i can see the sunglow and the sunset
vanishing just like me and you.
Your lips tremble,
whispering fractured syllables,
I'll kiss them for a while,
cherishing the screaming silence,
and die with a smile.

My Dirt Sins and Shame NAILED TO THE CROSS--WHERE I AM NOW FOUND NO LONGER LOST-

sometimes I feel filthy and dirty
Yeah! I must remember I am embellished in His glory
Yes even I even I a prodigal son product of The Son not solar
Oh so that I am Elohim's 

My dirt sins and shame been nailed to the cross 
Now I'm clean chosen and favored forging longer dirty nor loss

Ahh! the Prodigal Son fully graced and forgiven
 I know where I'm at 
And I know where I've been
 I am birth with a new horizon 
I am chosen I am golden
 I'm a child of a living King 
I'm Father's son and I am a Holy One

My dirt sins and shame seenailed to the cross now I'm clean chosen favored forgiven no longer dirty nor lost

Was spiritually filthy and dirty but my Jesus came and cleansed me
All mine dirt sins and shame nailed to the cross 
Now I'm eternally free unbound and not lost
Hallelujah creasing Grace Glory on power to you 
Oh! righteous one our Holy God Glory Glory Hallelujah

7/25/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2024

Cobweb Wishes

A virgin wish, coupled with passion-a spray of luck-ambition,
can be foundation for sparkling things...
a first flight -a newborn cry
Gracefully treading nightmares in black finned nights.
Turning a death rattle into melodies in pearl
strung along the gilded wings of infinity.

A greying wish is an opaque endeavor.
It lends the hands to idling
creasing the satin of reality.
Old wishes dangle wearily from the ceiling
like dying Faries in a cobweb dream.

A Transformation

rough
                     coarse, harsh,
       creasing, wrinkling, crumpling 
vandal, hooligan, uniformity, evenness, 
      furbishing, steamrolling, ironing 
                  creamy, effortless 
                          smooth



Date posted: 07/28/2021

Lake Washington

Steel water in milky mist
Ripples creasing the duck’s vee
The boat’s horn blaring

The Unlocked Door of Love

I lay awake this night only thinking of you tossing and turning with only you running through my mind, my hand gently touching your face as if it were a cloud created by God. I yearn for my lips to touch yours tasting your flavor of intoxicating wine while embracing you tightly as our hearts beat as one while creasing your mind with my tongue. I wait with anticipation to feel your shivering as my body enters your mind with movements like the waves of the ocean eventually creating this hurricane of love; our minds will be lost at sea traveling through time together as we hear a squeak from the cabin door opening with a small voice that says: 

MOM DAD BILLY HIT ME!!

Malignity

I do bitterly fault your restless digits, slatternly time;
Your agile dial's design I defy with mutinous rhyme. 
What's the veiled intent of your lightning procession,
Against this snail-mover's beleaguered progression? 

In swearing truth say why your sight-eclipsing wings
Party and feast and conjure merry over littler beings.
What sadistic banquets in spooky nooks yonder,
Turn your lot-dwindling schemes ever so fonder? 

It's true your snaring turns I strongly loathe,
With damning sneers and deserving derision. 
What's that blot against heaven's sternest troth,
Obliterating dancing suns on her creasing face? 

To what main gain do your life-slicing edges fly,
Usurping innocent freedoms of humble breath?  
Your mulish cruises along snaky course-ways,
Flare spite-perfected ills to slay slowing health. 

With daring tropes I’ll yet trim hours’ blacking crime, 
And I’ll chide the deadly glooms of carnivorous time.

Linda Weller

Every dark road traveled,
every pain and loss suffered,
etched deep in the face.

All the hardships endured
bruising the eyes,
the grief and heartache
down turning the mouth.

Giving up on caring
in the wayward hair,
the roughness of life
in the rasp in the voice.

Bad choices made
spotting the skin.
All the worries
creasing the brow

The anguish of losses,
all the worries
of a life wasted
etching the lips.

The faded eyes,
drooping eyelids
hiding sorrow
deep within.

The trembling hands
grasping for
lost opportunities,
failed ambitions
and ending of dreams.

Or maybe it is all
only the ravages
of lost time?


Photo of Lisa Emery as  Linda Weller in Blindspot. Seeing the sequence where Kurt meets his mother brought these words to mind.

Let Them Fall

let them fall without creasing.fragrant line
teardrops one by one they drop
if I bottle it up, and they no longer fall
I will die a little inside

a release of anxiety or maybe what's lost
each word smeared, by incessant saline
I don't care --I'll just start again
no matter if you read this or not

how many times, have i gotten the call?
your world shattered, what do I do?
never once asking, how is it with you?
my life pushed inside my heart

Origami In Flight

Sometimes when I get a little bored,
my hands will roam...
folding, creasing, creating
life from simple pieces of colored paper
that, I will turn into dragons or birds.

Once, I created a big green dragon;
he flew away to another realm, never returning.
Disheartened I was determined
to create my origami friends,
in colors that I could hold
deep within my mind’s eye;
imprisoning them within my own
subconscious, where if they flew away
they could only go so far.

I built within my mind, an aviary
with, crystal lights;
where colored birds of every size and shape, 
populated by my own magical hands.
When they flew up to the top
there was no escape.

The Queen of Spring

It happened the first day of Spring:
a cuckoo in drag tried to sing;
the lambs and the chicks
were getting their kicks
by b*tching about all 'her' bling.

The cuckoo was in for a shock;
they pushed 'her' inside a big clock -
'she' pops out on springs,
with bells on 'her' wings,
and tells them, "It's creasing my frock."

(the Soup censor won't let me post the word that begins with B and rhymes with witch)

* they say it's Spring when you hear a cuckoo

just a silly idea that came to mind for Carolyn's Spring contest

The Language of the Marshutka

The Marshutka travels down
the jarring road, and
just as in
life, we are unsure
of the hurdles we will
encounter
along
our
winding
journey.

The torn and
chalky seat carries each
of you,
And you are with me,
Just as was
intended, by a divine intervention,
for our blessed
meeting.

Your kindness needs no
words because I can see it in your
eyes,
beneath the veil that
covers the raw you, the one that
cries,
Scripted within
your
iris,
I follow your narrative, with
every creasing blink,
And through passing
looks
our living stories
interlink.

In those speckled brown
pools, I see your soul,
I see
your past and
the worries you hold, passing windows
of cobalt blue
I feel the truth that lives
in you,
and
in apertures of forest green,
I see the things that you
have seen.

Your dandelion clocks,
show where you
went astray,
and where the wind of life blew your
seeds away,
And on this everlasting journey,
the two of us sit opposite one another
on this rickety marshutka,
Separated by the language we speak yet
found in our own translation.

Grass

Grass comes apart
wen I lie down on it
Seperate and flat

Youth is seperate,
lives unto itself
No need to glance

in a mirror,
see the damage done
by the surgeon of years,

see hanging flesh,
scar tissue of time,
creasing in places
that once shined like grass

Remember Me and Smile

Memories of you talking,
Simply talking to me,
About your day,
About a new song you heard lately,
About how you like worn out jeans,
And how you fangirl over John Mayer.

Memories of you smiling, 
That smile with your eyes,
Crinkling up,
Creasing,
Happiness.

Memories of looking for that flower from Italy.
Turning on the flashlight, 
Searching for it on the road,
And finally finding it back in your room.

Memories of that night we never wanted to end.
Our last goodbye.
Our last hug.
Our last kiss.
An end we never saw coming.

You said 'Remember me and smile someday.'
And I do.
So now, with no talks,
No goodnights and goodmornings,
I remember you and smile.
With an irreplaceable warmth.
And I am happy
Like I was before.

• Short Creasing Poems
• Famous Creasing Poems
• Best Creasing Poems
• Read Creasing Poems
• Long Creasing Poems
• Creasing Quotes