Short Constricts Poems

Inhale, chest constricts,
 eases all the stress of lifes conflicts.
Smooth cool taste,
 money's worth it, not waste.
Mellows me out,
 so I don't shout.
My friend named Marlboro,
 comforts my sorrow....

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Melancholy should belittle gloomed sentiment coursing amongst my veins
Depression’s spontaneity constricts thy soul
Wearily fighting encroaching tears
Lend me a hand, heart, or prayer
(It’s not an easy road America)...

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Grief that constricts my heart,
Cages its screaming walls,
Grinding its bars roughly into its flesh…
Where they meet, blood oozes, 
Life does what it chooses,
Heart shies away from the pain of its mesh.


[unsure as to whether to continue]...

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Entangled by sudd in the mirky
White Nile river, the helpless water
foul became damned prey, sure to be
eaten by the alligator.
Life fleeting, water rising
to take its victim. 
Struggling to free itself,
constricts it, causing stricter
imprisonment of the sudd.
The alligator finds an easy meal today....

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her tail twitches

her throat constricts with strange sounds

just beyond the glass

the wild birds in flight taunt her
 
the caged bird looks on amused





*Honey, the cat, sits at the window making strange, threatening
noises at the birds outside. ignoring the love bird in a cage less than a foot to her left...

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Anything but spring
I've no time for frivolity
and the increase in daylength
constricts my nocturnal emissions.
The snow is almost gone,
white replaced by mud,
and the red bird's cheery call
curdles the cream
in my morning coffee. 
Yet as catkins emerge 
from budding willows
and the wind softens
inevitably
comes the time
to break from hibernation....

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Date 


I date with her,
My love, my angel,
And my analogy,
Who comes into my heart,
Just once in a while;
But, she, my wife, envies
Me and my love,
And muzzles and constricts
Her heart,  
And she would never understand 
That I’m dating with 
My poetry, 
Which I picture with 
Colors of life; 




By: R K Chowdary Jasti
@all copyrights reserved
23.02.2013@9.51am...

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sewn too tight, breakage;
it's all right. lasting faster,
inflicting disaster, salvage that self.
singularity resuscitated,
engulfs, laps up habit. 
havoc cavorts amongst the 
lords, constricts, maneuvers
through chords, sits betwixt
teeth & tongue. it is such, which,
among pauses in sight, will touch &
drip bits of light over wounds, to 
wash away intention....

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The desperate man stands alone in the room.
He gazes around at the dust and the gloom.
The chair, it is old, and it creaks when he lifts.
The noose he has tied, it constricts as he shifts.
He rocks back and forth, and he moves to and fro,
He kicks at the seat, and time starts to slow.
Now the visions and voices cease to haunt me:
I am that man, and I'm finally free.
...

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As the molecules expand in air 
from the roots of the cold ground 
to the warmer the branches where they bond 

then it rain cool upward side
down the trunk to the roots because the underside of the branch bow up with pride 
as it provide shade during summer hot tides 


then falls the air temp and the constricts 
the warmer root where it will be found
during summer chill , the trunk restricts...

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My mind rages with temptuous thoughts.
My ears ring like a church bell, unable to hear.
My throat loosens, ready to speak,
But my vocal chords constricts and my lips refuse to part.
Tears slide down my cheeks as I watch you walk away.
The pheonix within my heart flies up to my brain,
And I realize that you won't ever come back.

Note from author: This poem was created to accompany a piece of my art work....

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Dust claps its hands 
in swirls of descent. Fear unearthed, 
the soil of the skin disturbed. 
Sweat burns as it kisses you. 
The air is drowning me, my chest constricts 
beneath the strain of a serpent. 
The hinges of my neck, rotted 
and dropped, flesh hanging like fruit. 
The body silent, reflecting in its depth 
mistakes. scars that cling, peach tarnished 
with oil, dripping like the fur of a cat 
from a terrified face. Eyes moisten, guilt 
penetrates....

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The cellar is his bleak repose,
in concert with the cockroaches and flies,
it's here he wipes his runny nose,
toils the day long, sunshine tries,

insinuates through rough and crumbled boards.
The colour of his skin constricts,
the bottom of the pile, his heritage affords
no more, the atmosphere restricts

his breath. It leans against the wall,
his tarnished, dusty saxophone,
a measure of the time when he stood tall,
cadenzas, and his free and strident tone....

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The stares burn my skin,
I fail to conform, becoming faded in the world.
Only one choice: follow others or be forgotten,
The ropes hold me back, forcing me to forget myself.
I feel the pressure to categorize who I am,
Labels controlling the way we act:
Sexuality, gender, and friends,
Without a choice I'll never be accepted.
I choose to separate from the conformist ideology that constricts who I am.
I choose to find the greener grass on the other side....

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