Night,
"I bet I fit perfectly into the curve of you."
Right, center, left
we wrestle for position
as we weave a delicate web
of understanding and trust
depositions and diplomacy deciphered
as the art of the deal is reached
under the table, blown our covers
covert missions curtailed
chaos created
security breached
comprise reached
one on top of one
a treaty of peace
as we enter in
a bond that will never cease
Haunting and haunted,
These visages with lacy, saponaceous curds
Depending and plummeting,
Do I on the pebbled porcelaneous integument
Of the whitish shower floor scrawl.
I wonder, as frothy masses of foamy, bubbled soap
In the shower traverse mine body and ripple and course
Undulant across my sinews, driven by the pound and pour of the
Plunging, cascading cataract of pressurized shower water....
I wonder, I mull and I ponder over the
Accounting, the tally, the sum total of those
Ephemeral faces by soap and pressured water engendered:
Those ghastly and spectral faces which precipitate
Diluted, water-blasted soaps have, in
Soppy, splashy, soap-lashing
Depositions on that pebbled floor atop of which I stand
(Or did when the inspiration for this poetical work mine
Did, whilst erectly bathing, occur to me)
Yet how many multitudes of these
Through the course my myriad bathings and showerings;
How many of those horrid, demonical, haunting and haunted
Physiognomies did I of a moment
Indirectly will, if you will, into being-
Even whilst the shower coursed pluvial and pouring waters thundered all around?
To be spoken silently
In that unpleasant tumult
Lurking behind the facade
He does not suspect in what wild fear
He'll join with her in a fatal play
Thus he sees his life as
an outrageous fortune
Like thunder shuttering orisons
The demented contempt of a puny mind
Repudiated into self negation
And subjugated himself into an empty shell
Infused into such subjective depositions
That leaves him with no refuge
O! Yesterday you are gone forever
to be seen no more
your seconds,your minutes,your hours,
they are all but buried in the sleep of the night.
Things left behind in the arms of procastination
becomes the doings of today
greased with sweating in pains
for the pleasures known yesterday
o! Yesterday you were onces todays activities
at your fertile soil seeds were planted
watering by today
fot to the hope of tomorrows harvest
uncertainty!!!
Uncertainty!!!
They are all uncertainties
for we know not which seeds were planted
yesterday is gone!!!
yesterday is dead!!!
But its depositions are very much alive
to bring to our harvest that which was sown.
The contrails scar the morning sky
like cicatrix’s on a slaves back.
I sit and watch them multiply:
white insidious, noxious tracks
that linger long among the clouds
spreading lethal depositions
never knowing their whereabouts’
but knowing their compositions;
And when the clouds begin to rain
down (acid precipitation)
it’s simple then to ascertain
Man’s faulty preconceived notion:
That they are harmless condensates;
This is supposed to vindicate?
Meanwhile, a drizzle
began quietly falling
upon fragile earth.
I watch her undress
Malevolence unbound
I want to caress
Morals confound
I watch her provoke
sinful depositions
I want to invoke
Lust's convictions
I sit and I stare
reluctantly still
My love, I shall dare
And beauty shall kill
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.