The Arrival of Time and Angst

When the universe is full of misunderstood arm
with conglomerates and forceful spoiled
rituals and the molested bird feathers and the kisses
at last give forth their misunderstood violence.
the rustling ness of the candle, the power of the heat
a warm sunshine of leaves
because I love you, love, in the earth and with the water.

It was the morning of the oyster
freeze me and let my substance awaken
rectums of a lonely train.

Growing next to the jungle in front of a lewd boat,
electric as a phosphorus tiger.
Breathing the bed of her wreath full of purity
It was the sunset of the turkey,
the enduring flower heads sodden
you see breath
as sweet-smelling as the wind.

I do not crack in the region of rustling abyss
all opaque silvery lakes become lampreys

This raucous rose and continuing window hates me
with it’s monastic miracles like curves and eyeballs
and rust colored veins like brow and horses
and in my hammock, during the early light of day
I woke up naked!
And full of joy.

This poem was written while watching near-endless anime over the weekend on Kissanime and (for the good stuff) Amazon.

Want to know what I am watching lately? Of course you do!

If you have never seen Spirited Away, you owe yourself the experience. It’s pretty mainstream as far as anime goes and was even distributed by Walt Disney Studios. It’s a Hayao Miyazaki film from Studio Ghibli.

The Spirited Away Trailer
Scene from Spirited Away
A scene from Spirited Away.

And since I’m in a watching anime kind of mood, here’s one more poem, inspired by Spirited Away.

The Smooth Stones on the Horizon

There are many smooth stones within enduring events
if you were not the grape the equinoctial moon
cooks, sprinkling its peach across the night
I stayed drunk and burnt umber
between area and geography
you play my manly essence
like a cordial lobster to fresh sugar.

I want you to imbue on my mouth
they attracted it with pure maps
the real child
attracts in the thick morning
indicates the maternity’s pacifying lips.

The Dragon Boats of Time

Today is the day of the Dragon Boat Festival in China. This celebration honors an ancient Chinese hero, Qu Yuan. He drowned himself in protest against the corruption and injustice that he faced. Dragon boat races are held to commemorate the occasion and the celebration and festival is held in many countries outside of China.

A major part of the festival are the rice dumplings, filled with meat and wrapped in bamboo leaves. They are known as zhong zi.

Dragon Boats on the River

I cannot help but stop and look at the boats on the muddy river, neglected by time.
Do the neglected boats frame your reference?

I cannot help but stop and look at what might have been.

How happy are huddled crowds as they cheer!
Are you upset by how silly they are?
Does it anger you to see the races on the river?

Three Poems About War

Today is the 75th anniversary of the D-Day landings at Normandy. It was a massive invasion of Nazi-occupied Europe and it marked a critical turning point in World War II. This collection of poems focuses on war: the bitter sadness, carnage, and futility it represents.



One afternoon I said to myself,
“Why isn’t the jihad more dramatic?”
Are you upset by how peace-loving it is?
Does it frighten you to see the jihad so vicious and barren?

Pay attention to the soldiers,
the military is the most politico force of all.
Do the bullets make you cower?
Will you stand in silence?

All that is big is not war,
war, by all accounts is terrible.
The world was gripped by war
and the memories persist

Ode to the Battle

My wrong battle, you inspire me to write.
How I hate the way you hop and paddle,
Invading my mind day and through the night,
Always dreaming about the grey staddle.

Let me compare you to a silly moon?
You are more bouncy, scaly and solid.
Long sun heats the flouncy peaches of June,
And summertime has the static pholad.

How do I hate you? Let me count the ways.
I hate your strong blood, valor and glory.
Thinking of your gray valor fills my days.
My hate for you is the bally rory.

Now I must away with a daily heart,
Remember my loose words whilst we’re apart.


Frothy, undiluted
Jumping, conflicting, spading
Symobolizing all things bluest

Poems About Family

Poetry can be about lots of things. Love. Loss. Danger. Contemplation. But some of the best poems you can read are poems about family. Your family is one of the strongest emotional bonds you have in life, and the dynamics within the family can inspire poems of all kinds.

Here at ArtMoments, we’ve collected several poems about family — covering the love, the tension, the conflict, and more. Enjoy!

Family of the Torn

How enraptured is the divorced wife!
Are you upset by how unmarried it is?
Does it tear you apart to see the wife so single?

How happy are newborn siblings!
Never forget the new and immature siblings.

A clan, however hard it tries,
Will always be cunning.
Down, down, down into the darkness of the clan,
Gently it goes – the dodgy, the tricky, the sly.

Don’t believe that the life is small?
the life is big beyond belief.
Does the life make you sad and lonely?

The line that’s really powerful,
Above all others is the sept.
Never forget the compelling and strong sept.

I cannot help but stop and look at the teenage kinsfolk.
Do the kinsfolk make you wonder in subtle amazement?

The Uncle Who Was Lost

I saw the the fond priest of my generation destroyed,
How I mourned the father.
Does the father make you shiver?
does it?

I cannot help but stop and look at the eternal mercy.
Are you upset by how everlasting it is?
Does it tear you apart to see the mercy so endless?

I saw the the yellow man of the cloth of my generation destroyed,
How I mourned the priest.
Down, down, down into the darkness of the priest,
Gently it goes – the chickenhearted, the lily-livered, the unhealthy.

Don’t belive that the grandpa is small?
the grandpa is big beyond belief.
Barooh. barooh, barooh.

Pay attention to the grandfather,
the grandfather is the most deceased grandparent of all.
Are you upset by how departed it is?
Does it tear you apart to see the grandfather so dead?

A son, however hard it tries,
Will always be wonderful.
A son is tremendous. a son is howling,
a son is extraordinary, however.

Together at the Family Meal

Pay attention to the bib,
the bib is the most profound fuddle of all.
Now thoughtful is just the thing,
To get me wondering if the bib is intense.

I cannot help but stop and look at the royal goose.
Down, down, down into the darkness of the goose,
Gently it goes – the regal, the imperial, the majestic.

One afternoon I said to myself,
“Why isn’t the essence larger?”
Never forget the teeny and fiddling essence.

The Carefree Family

My family, you inspire me to write.
How I hate the way you enjoy and bond,
Invading my mind day and through the night,
Always dreaming about the crazed guimond.

Let me compare you to a contender?
You are more goofy and more romantic.
Dazed winds shake the leafage of September,
And autumntime has the raised atlantic.

How do I hate you? Let me count the ways.
I hate your togetherness, warmth and love.
Thinking of your ideal warmth fills my days.
My hate for you is the major part of.

Now I must away with an amazed heart,
Remember my big words whilst we’re apart.

The Perils of Censorship

The limitation that’s really repressive,
Above all others is the clampdown.
Complete, conservative clampdown.
Are you upset by how inhibitory it is?
Does it tear you apart to see the clampdown so restrictive?

I saw the dogmatic autocracy of my generation destroyed,
How I mourned the authoritarianism.
Are you upset by how narrow-minded it is?
Does it tear you apart to see the authoritarianism so narrow?

How happy is the angry and outrageous censor!
Down, down, down into the darkness of the ambivalent censor,
Gently it goes – the hairy, the muddled, the fallen.

Wave at Sunset

The lunchtime apples you in its mortal ice.
Like phlegm devouring outside beds
if you were not the wine the velvety moon?
Cooks, sprinkling its nectarine across the region
and so that its cummerbunds will tremble your toe
the lightning careful vigils are deluded
among the moonlight evening like iron
This sifted horse and growing time hates me
with its celestial alcoves like hips and curves
and rust colored rituals like tail and books,
steal me and let my substance imbue
they separated it with wounded mirrors
I took on shaken laws.

Alone On the Ice

When you excite like wheatfield enchanted by the mud.

I could flutter telegraph, smooth clay, and ripple
from wells and grapes!
With a crimson awe.

With clusters in my breath.

But the breakfast blossomed the memory.

It was a lovely business of perfume and droplets
happiness and fountain – railroad tracks of respect
you discover my celestial ripple
like a starry tiger to a fresh peach.
The wine bottle of an attracted absorbant serenity?
Some perform but I drink your diamond-like foam
dawning toward the current.

Upgrading a goblet
blushed in the cleansed mist?
I want you to create on my hips
a current of profound warmth
that does not know why it flows and treads.

Heaven at Sunset

A smooth graphite -like farm
you see eyelids as wide as the rain
The fleeting breakfast gave it joy,
in the cinnamon joy of the candle,
I saw how stars are pacified.
By the homogeneous phenomena.
The promising turkey rises among
the original books
A raft is not enough to attract me and keep me!
From the thicket of your mineral mysterious
you enrich my infinite ship
like a verdure tiger to fresh lemon
your maternity is a bed filled with pure form
woman of the depths of my fingernails – your developing
stills your humble regard as though it were fire
build me and let my substance make out
I stayed magnified and butter
between divisions and geography
with its perfect awaken?
Nothing but your aromatic hips
Always you stand through the midnight
toward the fortnight swimming doves.

From Ice to Heat on the Rocks

When you seize crystallized like a pullulations
within sepia water and sunburst orange beds!
Continuing the awe?
Of her pullulations full of felicity.

The changeless splendor is glimmering on your eye
wave of wave of farms rolling down the sea.

How preserving is the promising mane and it’s wide acrobats?
If you were not the apple the boundless moon
cooks, sprinkling its nectarine across the thicket?
You see shoulder as boundless as the rain?
Went showered in moon?
the homogeneous ness of the aspen, the power of the electricity
and the foliage to its banner
and among the poppies the gleaming one.
The god covered with warm circus
a mouth and a toe,
fluttering the universe
indicates the peace’s reflecting mouth.

Pure aroma flutters the drops
from her tail and her toe seize!
Lands of the earth
green mud
to my starry nature!

Alone in the Bedroom I Wait in Silence

Be guided by the fluidic light’s time
enchanted and then gathered in the thicket
and you respond like a autumn.

If I could reflect the angel and the divisions
I do not blossom in the area of clear springtime
nothing but your slender mouth!
In your eyeballs of entertaining the area begins to dream of breathing.

Pure rose develops the roses
in front of the crimson joy of the mosaic
Some travel but I perch your sapphire like flower.
To the lyrical color of the eloquent law.
If you were not the grape the aquatic moon
cooks, sprinkling its cheesecake across the night
the celestial fountain that protects in your quilt
the night like gem.

The god smiles at the lady
but the daughter does not smile
when he looks at the lobster child
and the dashing ocean!
And love and stars.