Narrowed Poems | Examples

Now And Then

When my body is sculpted to perfection,  
When my beauty gleams without a flaw,  
You may whisper that I’m artificial—  
But I am not. I am the raw,  
Unyielding truth of perseverance,  
The echo of battles I’ve won alone.  

You question me with narrowed eyes,  
Raise suspicions like storm clouds overhead.  
You never saw the fire beneath my skin,  
The silent strength in every thread  
Of muscle forged through pain and grit—  
You never asked what made me whole.  

You judged my books, my songs, my soul,  
With a heart colder than winter’s breath.  
But I will rise through ash and ember,  
Shine brighter than the stars of death.  
I am not your fleeting fancy—  
I am the storm, the calm, the flame.  

And when I stand in triumph’s light,  
Know this: I remember every slight.  
I remember how you turned away  
When I was broken, night and day.  
So if you don’t love me now,  
You don’t deserve me then.  

I am worth the struggle,  
The climb, the scars, the bend.  
And when I soar, untouched by doubt,  
It’s not my loss—it’s yours,  
Without a doubt.

Gray Orphans and Ancient Flint

Many paths lead away from home
but only one leads back
as the years sit salted upon the rack
you find the path home has narrowed and 
turned from gates of iridescence
to mirrors opaque and black-
you arrive with exhaustion on your boots
a feast of favorites on a favorite plate
go upstairs to your yellow crib
have those unreachable dreams again\
things are slightly slanted the faces changed
some are missing all together
some are fresh but you don't know their names
to soon it's time leave and spar with devils again.

Home is where you lick your wounds
stay in tune with yesterday
then one day that nest 
has completely blown away
nobody knows your name
you are a graying orphan
a gasoline splashed stray
and the whole world plays the jester
holding a piece of ancient flint.

waking up leopard

Leopard narrowed his yellow eyes for the night
His body is stretched across upper branch tight
He snores easily, but is awakened by a small boor
This small tasty mammal rustled across the jungle floor

ART APPRAISAL Z twinku

MODIGLANI

narrowed 

necks

CONSTABLE

locale

landscapes

RILEY

migraine

mosaics


TWINKU a double word distich with integral title

How do you confess yourself?

How do you confess yourself?
Over chicken and rice
In the light of a moment
In laughter and life?

Or is it with warning?
"Please don't be mad."
Trembling lips
Narrowed eyes and red hands

Or is it with silence?
Scribbled words on a bed
Leave for the weekend
Buzzing phone wasting dead

Or is it with defiance?
A mock-up of "brave"
I will not let myself
Destroy me today

Or is it an apology?
"I'm sorry I was scared"
But your tongue is so telling
Your thoughts were so bare.

How do you confess yourself?
In a way that is true
Bare your soul to the people
You hope care for you

what the paper said

What the paper said

A newspaper I sometimes read is not happy
that billionaires dabble in politics 
the paper is partly right; especially if the rich 
The person who thinks about it is not liberal.
People who are successful in relative youth
tend to inflate their importance, ask what
do I know how to fill my time in service to my
country, even though they know it is about
themselves and well-being to use their 
business acumen to benefit for the state 
and at the same time, give them importance  
on an international level 
Sigh a mogul is not an intellectual, his vision
is narrowed as his business  talent that does
not include the mass of people who might 
have other interests,  say about quality and
social issues that have no visible outcome
but nevertheless benefit those who are of 
a modest talent
A billionaire should not brush them off as a
hindrance to their view, life is more than 
running a factory and meeting people who 
are in awe of the wealth

Reverse Psychology

The reflection in the water of the woman
Was not pleasing; even to herself she looked 
Hard.
Frown marks were etched deep; two lacerations 
Between her black unruly brows.
Thin lips clamped together in a downward Arc
Showed her disappointment in life; her dissatisfaction.
She didn’t want to go on; She didn’t want to go home.

Her reflection said “I bet you haven’t got the guts to get in like Ophelia did.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed; she actually hated her reflection. 
She took off her green shawl and lay it neatly on the green grass beside the still pond.
The unhappy woman stepped into the pond;
She sunk slowly down through her own reflection.
She had fallen for her own reverse psychology.
And now she is no more.

ever wonder

Was the sun the catalyst
For altered pigments
Narrowed eyes

Genetics
Moving through the cycles
Of nature’s perfection

The moon a silence
Rocking us all to sleep

Doorstep

I am the door she ran through;
Broken, off the hinges, jammed in place 
I lie on the floor that once brushed off my shoulders 
Unable to move as I stare at the ceiling 
Watching her walk away as she steps over me 
For, I was just an obstacle for her to clear 
Life's view is narrowed by my perspective 
Looking for a quick pick me up 
My dead weight is too heavy for the weak to lift 
Easy has left me when difficult moved in 
I need to fix my splints and oil my hinges

Narrowing Tracks

Grit flies from spinning rubber,
the traffic is edging through roads,
narrowed, by the plowed and pushed aside.

Curb-side snow remains; solid humps turn brown,
in an un-melting light.

A lone chicken hawk circles an iced-over acre
of snaking roadway,

its black track attracts the birds eye,
as if it were the contrail of an elongated rat,
stretching into a bolt- hole of frozen sky.

When I Saw You Last Time

When I saw you last time,
The world held its breath,
As if time itself had paused,
And all existence narrowed down,
To that singular, fleeting moment.

Your eyes, like galaxies unfurled,
Held secrets and stories untold,
Reflecting the universe within,
A universe that beckoned,
With a gravitational pull,
Drawing me closer,
Into the depths of your soul.

Your smile, a sunbeam’s embrace,
Illuminated the darkest corners,
Chasing away shadows of doubt,
And in that fragile, luminous instant,
We were infinite,
Bound by a connection,
Unbreakable and timeless.

When I saw you last time,
The world around us blurred,
And all that remained clear,
Was the image of you,
Etched in my heart and mind,
A memory to treasure,
An echo of a love
That transcended mere moments,
And found its home in eternity.

…

Seen Seething

Nostrils flared every so slightly
Jaw tightened, strangling a smile, 
Teeth clenched were locked in traffic jam, seized up
Eyes narrowed to piercing dagger points leering with malice
On the face and brow, the wrinkles erupted tight, highlighted
Complexion inflected flushed ruddy ruby red with rage
Breaths were short, sharp, shallow and puffy.
Clearly this was a seen-seething opening scene.
Despite attempts to stall and hide the curtain roll, 
behind the grimace of lips vice-gripped,
and teeth clenched into a feeble, forced and fake smile,
was the seething scene that didn't fool anyone in the room!

Relativity a Freed Verse

RELATIVITY
surrounded

 by contrast
with the extraordinary
marking
the moment
 visually
interesting
with jagged
with lines
of  graffiti
  wrinkles
in
its depths
 a fire
 blazes

a strange
ritual
of established
 in the mirror
are wonderously
narrowed
yet
 barely resolved
 into
  the shadow
of
 existential
intensity
 touching
  compassion
 tender
   kind& vulnerable
  deeper
than
 the presence
of
 a living
consciousness

so tangible
this
emotional presence
full of mystey
when  seen
afresh
 opens
the senses
&  imagination
to reveal
an insight
of universal
 vulnerability
&  tragedy

Breakdowns

I hear that after she broke up 
with me
she herself broke down.

They say her main-spring unwound
there in the London underground
while waiting for the West Ham tube.
Her knees ground to a halt,
she just toppled over on that platform,
an oily mess.

Eventually she was partly repaired
by several other erstwhile lovers,
but her eyes had narrowed to knife points.

I also was damaged,
my mangled remains were displayed
in a small gallery
just off the Edgeware Rd
one dedicated to performance art.

A Prescription For Mean

I never go to the doctors much at all.
My new primary inherited me when 
my prior doctor left last fall.
I made the appointment because I was sick
and feared I'd been bitten by a Lyme's tick.
When I asked the new doctor to order a
Western Blot, the most accurate test,
this is what I got.
"I've been practicing medicine for thirty years,"
his volume increased as it burned my ears.
"Your blood pressure is high", obvious to see,
and then he proceeded to lecture me...
"Your vessels have narrowed, probably full of plaque.
Your going have a stroke or a heart attack".
This doctor must have thought me deaf or may be just
dense. I got a good dose of his arrogance.
I don't remember asking for a prescription for mean but
he was definitely the angriest doctor I've ever seen.
Well, off to see my cardiologist.
His bed side manner is the best.

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