Precipices Poems | Examples

The Amalgam of Pain

I am concerned with the structures that sustain the universe, 
with the mighty river of time, 
the tablature and the compass of souls 
dispersed in their endless penances, 
the enigmatic smile of doubts 
overlapping the fragility of certainties, 
the detestable silences that precede painful decisions 
and with the thick amalgam of pain 
that poisons our days with the most varied enigmas.

What worries me is the shock 
when I wake up from the nightmare of living, 
the need for millimeter precision 
in counting the steps until the freedom of not thinking, 
the innumerable precipices 
that surround any and all will of the mind 
to keep away from the fainting, falls and stumbles.

What I am concerned about 
is the indifference of entities or deities 
that could undo the deception of atoms 
in condemning us to finitude, 
constantly and habitually 
expressing unmistakable signs of contempt 
for creatures who have given them a supposed superiority 
over their own destinies. 
my concern is about the extension of the shadow
that negatively illuminates the path 
we should follow under the light.
the rest don't worry me.

Dangers of Life

In life we jump obstacles,
            we jump precipices,
            that we don't even sight...!

Lighting

but please stay away from heavy thoughts, sad songs and their meanings, keep away from hidden words in the dictionary, we just ripen fast in pain and the ink didn't even dry on the calendar, we already learned what there was to unlearn with our ignorance and if you don't see the thread that connects everything don't insist on metaphors, stay away from very tall trees, avoid attractive precipices and their protruding edges, remember that great volumes of water only imitate tears, that the nights comfort the cowards but hide the savages, remove from the shelves the already expired cans of perfect concepts, separate your hands in contrition; forgetting the chains and shackles of the mind does not free us from our own prison.

Intoxicated

intoxicated by entwined souls,
breasts beating, breathing
in the amalgamation of us.
trust in lips, tongues, stress
of otherworldly communication.

neo-occasion of bare skin,
slightly shy, surrendering
to the shift and slide—
sensuality played portentously…
innocence irrigated…
blind.

intoxicated by the itch;
you scratch
my back like a kitten.
my feet and knees
find your warm precipices
of carnal knowledge.
together we learn
there’s an inner universe;
exploration
of mysterious habitation.

in practice, in habit
tingling of dendrites
over and over again.
intoxication’s jealous—
jumps for joy
at your touch…
knows where your headed
north or south…

intoxicated by extremes,
the shudder of sensuality,
shamelessness of dreaming
in your bed, calling only
your name, stamped
with approval— our’s,
story comes to
a climactic conclusion—
Your Welcome.

9/9/2021
“I'' Contest New or Old
Sponsor: Constance La France

Poem To Your Incredible Indecifrable Eyes

Abyssal, abysmal, profound,
superficial, light, evident,
your eyes change color...
Cracks, gaps, ruptures,
labyrinths, anguishes, throat
your eyes confine my desires...
Precipices, cliffs, gullies
schisms, contractions, insights
your eyes sometimes interact...
Lovers, flirts, friends,
I forgive all this because
I love your eyes
and you... !

Four Elements

How bottomless you are, the lonely hell,
how dark and joyless, but the love I fell
in is much deeper. Oh, four words you said
so unexpectedly that my ink bled,
four elements, four natures of despair -
the water of my tears, the smoky air
of sleeplessness, the fire in my loins,
the earth of desperation that adjoins
insanity – the words you said in lieu
of reasons to break up: "I don’t love you".
How that can be? It was just yesterday
you vowed that… I go mad, I go astray
in most abysmal precipices of 
my hell in search of you, my faithless love.

The Fisherman

The fog hovering above the cold waters is
Reminiscent of steam over hot pavement in the summer,
Ominous figures in the shadows, poles projecting from unknown precipices,
And amber skies promising warmth later for chilled limbs exposed to frigid river temps.
Hours of silent discomfort for the rare prize that could more easily be purchased at the corner market,
But this is the lure for those that play this solitary game of bait and ditch.
In the center of a tranquil world of water, trees and silence,
The fisherman stands alone.

May 10, 2019
Picture #3

I Am But a Speck

Below me sweeps a thousand feet
Of air and nothing more,
Precipices fall away
Yet stir me to the core.

Yawning chasms, with evil gape
Scare a mortal soul,
Oh, but is there elsewhere
A spirit feels so whole. 

In that moment there I stood
Heaven, surely found.
I am but a speck upon this earth,
High above the ground.





Entry for
In The Moment Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Heidi Sands
14/6/18. Placed 3rd.

Dayflight

These eagles,
these creatures of 
the High Sky.

They hatch in
nests of branch
and twig; nestled,
fitted into crags;
perched over 
precipices.

Soon to soar,
but first,
they fledge,
they unruffle,
on thin-air 
Earth.

So very like
our Dreams.

If I Am Stuck With You Ill Die

Duty, demands, delaying desires.
Destiny, shoves you off, at the precipices
Of life’s uncertain edges.

Karmic outcomes now direct decisions;
Life issues us temporary bivouacs,
that leaves us vulnerable to its storms.
Destiny alters desires –
Even the most well-made plans
Of hearts, minds, flesh, and souls.
The spider’s web has caught his lover:

Suddenly he wanted not to eat her but to love her
an appetite for reluctance falls over him.
When the beautiful ladybug, was stranded
In the spider’s net. 
He only wanted to wed her.
She pleaded to be devoured, by him.
If I am stuck with you, I’ll die slowly
‘Suck my insides out”
And leave my shell,
this is what you really want.

“These your plans,
have been overwhelmed, by my beauty.
Yet, you have no way to feed me, nor set me free.
Just eat me, and I will be inside of you,
and my carcass shall adorn your web.

Years and Tears

YEARS AND TEARS

YEARS GONE APACE, FROM PIMPLES TO DIMPLES,
FROM WRINKLES TO WHITE HAIR BRISTLES,
HIS DAYS FLEE UP LIKE A SHADOW AND THEN DISAPPEARS,
SENSITIVE FEELINGS, TEARS HERE TEARS THERE.

LIFE IS A VOYAGE WITH MANY PRECIPICES,
IN SOME OCCASIONS WE CRY FOR HAPPINESS, SOME FOR ATROCITIES.
FOR ATROCITIES, STRESS HIGH IN THE HEART LIKE A DICE ROLLED AT NIGHT,
THE RESULTS? CALAMITY WITH PRICE.
THE HEART COMPLAINS TILL ITS LATE, LIKE A GOAT SEARCHING FOR A MATE.

FOR HAPPINESS, HIS BLISS BURST FOR HIS FAME LIKE A MIST BORN FROM ITS RAIN.
AMONG "YEARS" AND "TEARS", THERE ARE "EARS" THAT LISTEN TO OUR SUFFERING.
PER CONTRARY, LETS FILL OUR YEARS WITH TEARS OF JOY LIKE A WOMB THAT CARRIES A BOY, -ITS A BLESSING.

Visions

Some scoff 
   others laugh 
Still others watch 
    the dance 
from 
stony precipices 
Don't you realize 
that visions are real things? 
Don't you realize reality is little 
more than an illusion? 
Earthly things sustain us for a short while 
But in the end eternity winds the battle!
Keep your hopes up!
Keep your flags flying!

Mountain Wellhead

This is where God breathes! Here is
the mountain wellhead that cannot believe
our bodies are drenched in darkness.
Drops of water burning bright like verses from holy
books.
        Here my heart smiles at
Goethe's heart, like a sun at a sun when they meet
in the precipices of the universe.
I was born to experience motion, to undulate like the sea
in a dream, to absorb everything with my soul. What do I know of the death
of the body. What of Swiss wellheads. What of this village
Lauterbrunen. What of nude virgins. What of war. But my
feeling I know. It keeps up stalks at the edge of a cliff.
I step into the shade of a mountain wellhead
that told me how after death all family relations are severed.
Here love is simple, for there is no single universe. Many
universes are jolted into motion. Rooms. The universes are rooms! Vanity is
shut up in the rooms. And I beneath the waterfall of the worlds.
Dead hands are no longer
dead here. Hands grow out of the water, the blue
in the sky. Sleep. Drift. Do not count the drops.
The water is too good.

And Crowns Crumbled To Dust

Re : Old Poems


Bells of triumph clang,
Fortresses fain to hail thee
Men of valiant swords.
Glories thence fell, crowns crumbled
To dust, no wailings were heard.

,,

The wind about thy sceptre howl and cry,
Loft precipices trampled;
Ruined rich piles of graves.

~


Forms : Tanka / Kimo


(3/21/2012)

Sad Old Me

You say you never heard
My prayers of last night?
The night was cold and gray
And your memory bold and gay
My bed of straw was bare
My linen- old and thin
And I woke up many times.

One time I sat on my straw
When I turned my head- facing the echo
It was only a dream, a poor dream
With the plume of a cockscomb
And the beauty of valleys and hills
Gently bearing the sparkling waters
Of the dreamland streams.

One time I called your name
And waited for my dream pet
And when the door opened
My heart opened too:
Sharing the joys and pains
Of a comfortless age
Awaiting dusk in the morning.

Since then countless years have passed
And numerous trials have I passed
Each a good deal worse than the other;
But I could not impress on mother
That high peaks have many precipices
And while my love served under other auspices
The same thoughts of grief came back
And sad old me cannot stay the hour!

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