Thickened Poems | Examples

Public Clocks

At first his anger was hotter than July
Or, rather, he was plundered by the weight of
Sorrow —heavier than the ice of January;
The kind of stolid ice that thickened Niagara Falls
Like frozen soup.
He was tall and lissome, bespectacled, in
Dark suits, a brown hat, worn-out shoes of fraternity.
A folded umbrella accompanied him like a touring child.
No wristwatch.
He doesn’t wear them.
Asked why, he normally replies, “There are many public clocks”.
Stocks have plunged
Every expert he asked shared the same opinion?
Stocks are like seesaws —
They rise and fall.
Before then he had assumed that “rise-and-fall”
Was only for dictators,
And of course empires.
And every public clock he glanced up at
Had the same opinion on time? it ticks away,
Slowly, but perfectly.
And if you want to do time,
Then hurry over life importunately.

Shadow thieves

Shadow thieves 

Pondering on the darkened times 
Peeling the strips of the phase 
Tugging on the masks 
of yesterday's face
as impunity crows 
unravelling the thickened years

The Horse Stable

‘Live in the moment’ they say
but it's hard on a winter's afternoon,
inside, warm in a comfortable chair
when the mind drifts, wanders off
to find a park somewhere 
at the end of a childhood street.
Dragonflies patrolling the hot, pine 
scented air and sunk in the shade,
an abandoned stable thick in spider
webs and behind a half door,
a long, dark, menacing silence.

I never went in, held back
by tales of ghosts and the fear
that something lingered there 
who did not like to be disturbed
by the trespass of small boys.
I would sometimes throw a stone
into its dark reaches and listen 
for a stir or the sound of movement
or call out - is anyone there ?.
The air always bore a chill.

In my mind I still lean over 
the half door and look in.
The dark has thickened 
into an even deeper silence 
and I can feel its cold touch
brush against my skin.
There are times I swear I can see
a glint as if something was caught
in a blink of light. 
I call out - is anyone there ? -
but no-one ever answers.

Reflections In A Cemetery

Somehow, the deluge of cloudburst
unwraps my flesh pallid, as if to spill
holy water--maybe thickened dew—just
to give a name to lapses of my unheard cries,
while an insolent breeze fails to listen
as I howl in utter despair of life's requiem:

The thistle of wet soil chains my feet
anchored unto the swell of memories' bend;
remaining distant  in an unknown, 
vacant cemetery nourishing a loneliness
only vagrants like me could bear: 

A scream of rain compels a thirst
to feed on abrasions of ghastly pang...alone,
isolated from new moonlight's  lodging
my solitude, my invisible frame starts to sigh
behind the roughest of rain's marbled stone---

How can fresh mornings be so darn bleak?

Thickened and scarred, my mask bears the burden of time

Thickened and scarred, my mask bears the burden of time,
Torn, stained, this tough shell silently unravels,
And yet, somehow, it continues to keep me alive, to protect me from the world,
It was never a shining armor, just my mask,
Trying to compensate for all that I could not be.
Sensitivity and tenderness were sacrificed on the altar of necessity,
To become my shield against the sharp and merciless wind,
My mask has burned, boiled, swelled under the relentless sun,
I treated it harshly, underestimating its silent and constant value,
Wearing it reluctantly through this sad, often unforgiving life.
I made it suffer more than it should have, under my weight,
Never acknowledging its silent and priceless sacrifice,
It, my mask, was there when I was not,
Remaining behind me, a testament to all the battles fought,
A story written in scars and burns, in its trenches of pain and silence.
Will I ever learn to truly value it, to appreciate
This mask that has borne my burdens with dignity,
To understand that it is not just a covering, but part of who I am,
A testament to my resilience, a map of survival,
That continues to defend me, despite all my mistakes?

Charles John Huffam Dickens

Charles John Huffam Dickens
wrote many novels where the plot thickened
but one of his best ditties
was A Tale of two Cities

Writer's Block

I grab a pen with my hands cold and damp 

Blank stare cascades down upon the pages

Broad strokes of ink beneath a buzzing lamp 

Lines land flat with thoughts couped up in cages 

Air thickened and foggy with writer’s cramp 

Words dissolve like mist slowly in stages 

Ideas rendered useless with no say 

A poet lives to write another day

The Whispering Staircase

it began with a creak,
low and hollow,
as if the staircase exhaled a secret
meant only for me.

at first, i told myself it was nothing—
just the old bones of the house shifting,
just the wind brushing the eaves.
but then came the whisper:
soft, deliberate,
threading through the night like cold fingers.

“come closer,” it said.
i stayed still.

the air thickened.
my heart tapped out a rhythm of warnings,
but my feet moved anyway,
dragged by some unseen thread.
the stairs groaned louder with every step,
their song ancient, mournful, alive.

at the bottom, the dark opened wide—
a void where the walls used to be.
and there, in the center,
a door i had never seen,
its edges slick with something
that shimmered even in shadow.

my hand trembled as it touched the handle,
a warmth pulsing beneath my palm.
the door opened,
and i saw—
no, felt—
a thousand eyes turn toward me.

i slammed it shut,
but the whispers remain.
they follow me now,
each night,
each dream,
calling me back to the stairs.

LEAVING LEMIR

I used to run in lines
Straight and sharp
Never veering
Til I met desire
In secret, she led me
Down paths of pleasure
Just out of reach
The fire thickened
and finally.......ROARED!!!

Freedom, at last
I scribbled for the first time
Playing without an image
Skipping to the beat of MY drum
Swinging as high as the sky
Til reality brought me to earth
And I planted my feet
In quicksand
and finally......settled


Every escape brought bars
New and unfamiliar
Seasons of unknown shelter
Smothered hope of roses
Dandelions sufficed
As the wind whipped and whirled
Leaving my withered soul
With a stem
and finally......LOVE wins

Waving goodbye to Lemir

Written by Trudy Schrader on 01-02-2024

My Marriage Vow

I send you roses today, my dear
For the sun is clear
And my heart is fair.

My love letter to you, I feared
Is long gone undelivered
It's outdated, here in my heart is reserved.

How time flies, years gone our marriage
Thickened by hardship and with some baggage
We carried on together our lives we still manage

Now, have we outgrown, of Peter fans and winds, how lively
Of white hairs, of saggy skins has shown, how shiny
Having pass all therein the test of time, we breath so lovely.

Match Made In Heaven

The timeless story told, in ' Beauty & The Beast ',

Is one of God's favorites ... to say the least.

Even though the faces may change, a thickened plot remains the same.

Bringing a smile to God's face, in his heavenly name.

Because love is ethereal, in its celestial pursuits.

Rising above the primal nature, and all other disputes.

A Blaze

A thickened air held a haze 
It made me feel a dullish daze 
I found myself in a freaky phase 
Like Algernon inside his maze

ACRYLISTA orozo danield

ACRYLISTA orozco daniels
fast
  drying
    polymer
permanence
water
  soluable
emulsated
transparently
      thin
yet
impasto
  thickened
&inert

Stepping Out One Evening

A warped board on a bench seat
causing discomfort 
to an old bum, an aching foot,
a touch of pity all came to keep me
self-sealed inside a bag of skin. 
I took no note of the river
almost licking at my feet, 
the evening's prayerful quiet,
the sky slowly switching on
its nightly extravaganza of stars.
I was too far into myself
to see past my rim.

One can get lost in a stare,
that blank, formless blur 
reflecting the endless distances
stretching across the self.
I was bubbled there.
Then slowly things happened,
a tugboat went past, seagulls 
protested my presence,
the smell of river mud
thickened the air.
I stepped out and saw
an old man on a bench seat
who I have long known,
brushed the dandruff 
from his shoulders,
helped him up and walked
him home.

Chasing a Leprechaun

Through thickened woods and thorny brush
I chased the elf in silenced hush
Around intoxicating pines
And mossy-covered hanging vines
Taking care to mark the way 
With petals dropped from rose bouquet
My distance safe from prying eyes
And forest creatures’ wilding cries

I stalked the fairy to his lair
With visions of the gold we’d share
I’d lie in wait and pounce at will
And marvel at my stealthy skill
Finally, his hideaway
Nestled deep in green decay
Nothing left to do but wait
And dream about my wealthy fate

The leprechaun began his work
Upon his face, the strangest smirk
But still he toiled with tools and nails
Evoking lovely olden tales
He cut and stitched a dozen shoes
The crafty work, a clever ruse
For soon his suit of green did fade
Together with his sly charade

The tap, tap, tap, a lullaby 
Beneath the starry moonlit sky
My dreams of fortune quickly gone
Replaced by sunny rays of dawn
The cagey man was smart and swift
And left me with a parting gift
A pair of shoes so shrewdly soled
With dazzling heels of gleaming gold

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