.
he
fluster'd
fem'nine front
flower'n
hiz think
ink
'magine
hiz silent
think
'pon yourn visit
illiterate
'magine
thuh bottle'd
purty
not one bud'z burst
glister
lock
hmm
m-m
:}
beyond
normality
far-away
looks
of contemplation
wayward
innocent
embodiments
in
subliminal
motifs
of
passive
consciousness
&
perception
illumed
insights
faculties
aberration
of awareness
in
authentic
transcription
the
inconceivable
inhibited
attuned
to
sensibility
within
inchoate
contingent
stimuli
individual
thresholds
inseparable
preludes
drift
&
circulate
in
a repertoire
of
shadowed
silence
“can we see your arms?”
how does one sentence effect me so deeply?
when the police asked that question
my heart plummeted in my chest
my eyes got watery
my hands got shakey
and suddenly i regretted everything that i had done
i didn’t want my grandma to see
how much i hated myself
how much i hated the body that i inhibited
and how much i hated the lines on my arms
but i raised my sleeves
she started crying
they asked questions
i don’t remember a lot from that night
not the questioning
not the ride to the hospital
not my mom sitting beside crying, asking why would i do this
i didn’t have a answer
8 year old me didn’t have an answer for why she wanted to die
just that she missed her dad
13 year old me didn’t have an answer for why she needed to die
all she said was
“i don’t know”
“im sorry.”
"There is a harmony in autumn, and a lustre in its sky,
which through the summer is not heard or seen,
as if it could not be, as if it had not been!"
- Quote by Percy Bysshe Shelly
--------------------------------------------------------
"Lingering leaves of gold frolic
frolicked in the autumn wind"
humid air-dampened shy trees
start to shed slowly all
inhibited emerald green
Friendly few trees stand guard
taking in gawking stares
so does fallen leaves, naked nests
make those flying colors chill
all fresh souls blush deep
As leaved earth listens to wind
gleeful birds join symphony
elated critters crush leaves
create sweet musky smell of joy
captivating senses of breath
Have to keep the door closed
(after that midnight treat)
The coyote or wolf far off
(too close)
Can’t remember the plot
(salsa has tightened its grip)
upon awakening
(not at all sure of that)
the widening of the dark
I open the door slowly
to the shadows
(a strange light and likeness)
The wild animal is scarier
enclosed, inhibited
(it tears at my throat, claws
my innards - from a distance)
The pillow next to me
has no face or hair
(hope he’s living
downstairs!)
I need his warmth, his touch
(I’m shivering cold)
ALL THE LIGHTS GO ON
the bathroom
the sink
the bedroom
the hallway
the living room
the stairs
He’s there, in his chair
I tell him I need him
He says he will be along
shortly, so
I remain, reading
in my recliner
shortly waiting
then the warming begins
side to side
his hand over mine
a warmer blanket
after midnight the wolf
will wait to attack
and with waiting
he satisfies his appetite
I’m still cold at midday
but my fears sleep
There’s a lot of heat when all eight
of us suitemates are together.
I might have mentioned it somewhere.
We’re like surround sound,
or eight car alarms going off together,
it’s jabberwocky by an established team.
It can get frantic and frightening
for the uninitiated or inhibited.
Some of us are pretty boy-crazy
and there’s a mix-in of twinkling girl-crazy too.
We’re basey, bugzee, spaceheads and freaks,
yeah, we're the whole emotional spice rack.
“She’s a good person to kill time with,”
is pretty high praise around here
because we have so little free time.
But these are good people to kill time with.
And they’re portable, we travel, we invade,
we’re crazy young women who’ve got it made.
So if you’re coming at us, trying to enter our enclave,
you better be brave or a situational upgrade.
.
.
Songs for this:
No New Friends (feat. Sia, Diplo & Labrinth) by LSD
Lysergic Bliss by of Montreal
Freedom Is Free by Chicano Batman
.
.
slang…
basey = a cool loser, nice but a bit odd, a weirdo with style
bugzee = slightly crazy
spaceheads = people who talk about weird things
.
.
Webster: Jabberwocky = meaningless speech or communication.
I'm sick and tired of the so-called muses,
especially the one who always chooses
to make it clear that I don't work hard enough,
yet, when I ask for a little help with my stuff,
she's always the first one who flatly refuses.
My muse yelled, "Stop! That's prohibited."
I said, "What?"
"The behavior you just exhibited."
I said, "What did I do?"
She said, "You took some lines that didn't belong to you."
I said, "Jeez! Instead of helping me, you're making me feel totally inhibited."
Someone asked, "Could you write without a muse?"
I said, "Probably could, but I'd refuse.
Why? Because a muse is so good at showing
what to tell the audience and what to keep it from knowing
so that you can keep right on going with your wild-ass ruse."
I was having a hell of a time
with a poem that shouldn’t ever have been mine.
The muse had made a big mistake
by giving me lines that shoulda gone to this poet named Blake,
of which I could make neither reason nor rhyme.
What a peculiar smell
The kitchen is burnt with the taste of raw chicken and rotten tomatoes
Too many dead flies lay upon the window sill
Waiting to be swept away with the closing of a curtain
And in the middle of the garden
Cucumbers grow from tops the soil under the tree
Inhibited by the broken house
Shelter to only faeries and fawn
Tree house
Broken like everything else around
A pool house
Woven over with ivy and honeysuckle
Where the wild things grow
And the summer can't be found
To the weary, worn path
Cobblestones
No longer stone
Even the birds have gone now
No longer seeking a refuge of the snow
Pool turnt swamp many years ago, now
Covered in the silk of green
Not letting go of the sun
No more pool
Happy Martian New Year
All you earthlings
Be you wealthy or destitute
intrepid or cowardly
ecstatic or miserable
inhibited or unbound
At the Red Planet
look up, awestruck
Nov. 12 is Martian New Year!
(per www.scientificamerican.com)
if love be soul’s sconce
why then’s our response
so inhibited
joy’s prohibited?
Glamorous giraffe was more fashionable than most
I was fortunate enough to be her derby host
I took her around and showed her off to others
She was embraced by children, fathers and grandmothers
Others tried to develop the kind of look she exhibited
Truly a fashion statement, but totally prissily inhibited.
Glamorous giraffe never let her guard down, not one time.
I enjoyed showing her off, this lovely guest of mine.
inhibited
by the shackles of low esteem
she staggers
under the weight
of suppressed emotions
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
©pc 24th February, 2023
The promises you made to us are priceless.
Even if they were never spoken.
You promised to follow us on each of our journeys.
While we would grow up, you would stay small.
But that does not mean your love for us stayed idle.
Or that you would simply become a fixture.
You started off curious.
And eventually become less inhibited.
More than some compulsion for food.
You learned to cherish us.
Just as we cherished you from the start.
Happiness is a cherished memory revisited
Recalling a time that can never be relived
Childhood days when we were less inhibited
Looking back, they seemed so short-lived.
Remembering when the family was together
Happiness is a cherished memory revisited
Especially when quarantined by foul weather,
Or when we sneaked to do things prohibited.
We cannot bring back those folks so spirited
Who brought joy and laughter into our pranks
Happiness is a cherished memory revisited,
For them, and our memories, we give thanks.
Stories from years long gone can be savored,
Even those we’d like to forget that persisted
From years of experiences somehow favored,
Happiness is a cherished memory revisited.
A Quatern written December 5, 2022
Submitted to "2022 Marathon Mile 22" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney
I learned to let your inhibitions teach me.
That when we push everyone away-
We slowly become statues of ourselves.
As we become encrusted in the anger that stills our being.
Certainly, we have reached milestones together.
As kindness captured us.
But I am passing this cold front that is taking you-
I can still feel the chill…
And I sometimes pretend you are not gone.
Just inhibited.
Sub Categories
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.