Cocoon Poems

We are all tightly wrapped. It began at birth. We are born with tendency, but the wrapping begins at birth. Like an Egyptian mummy the world begins to wrap. As the years go by the cocoon thickens. Depending on where

She waited it out as time passed by, looking at the world from the corner of her eye. They came and went like a passing tide, as she stood there silently by the side. Another rippled by her feet as

Jealousy has grown like fruitless trees It has spread like width of seven seas It can’t be justified with very many pleas Life is condensed cocoon of humming bees Humans are no more, but hollowness remains Losses have crossed the

There is a voice in me, I listen to barely. Invisible as phantom shadows, It haunts me, taunts me. I sip some poison Inebriated; It flaunts me. It knocks me off, Scissors me in two, ‘Good or evil, whose baby

Where is the breath That I crave so much Hiding and playing games Just beyond my reach Fingers too stiff to touch To breathe To live To need what is aloof and Teasing me to beseech The air in the

Gleaming and shining with a mesmerizing light; peeping through my window at night, Oh playful, delightful and lucid moon, I cannot play with you, hide away soon! Disappear amidst the clouds carefree moon; Put off your glaring shine now soon,

To my cocoon I wish to return To the safety of my nest. To the womb that nurtured me Where I had long been in blissful unawareness With eyes shut tight Fists clenched too Yet to feel , see and

He slept and dreamt of her again Her sweet encouraging voice But whose was it, so familiar? Her words always gave him hope A reason to live as if he was destined to do something great. Soon his life became

On a bright summer afternoon, Sometime around July I saw something like a cocoon, About to be a butterfly At the break of the night, On the 16th day It took its first flight, Towards the skies far away With

Mother, they said I would find you if I looked deep in my heart – an image of love I shall see there that glows in its ramparts. So I looked behind all the walls upon which the drums did

I am a beautiful man though once I was an ugly boy worms split at the advance of my sneakers they knew what was coming I never shared chocolate turned sour to spite me this is no caterpillar and cocoon

I am convinced that the “Maker of me” has set me on a charted course For the most part, I have always been okay with the ‘Who” of me But honestly, it was God and my development into maturity that

Come out of the cocoons, the light is waiting for you, Climb up the well, Your species is waiting for you, But once you are out of the cocoon, Once you are out of the well, Do not teach me

I dream to kiss your smile and hold your sight, Neglect the night in favor of your touch, Forsake the world, to make this feeling right, And wonder between sighs why love is such; Like one held in cocoon of

On Christmas, Hegel smiles; No year stands up unless a year dies. No butterfly flies up, unless a cocoon is torn out. Crucifixion, dear gentlemen, is the ultimate dialect in the forest of a boring time. Crucifixion, dear ladies, is

Like a moth inside the cocoon, Waiting to kiss the bright sun, Growing its wings in silence, Slowly losing its innocence. The girl next to me seems pretty, My talks to her sweet and witty, I learned a new word

It was a summer night. A windswept moonbeam plummeted. Sexualizing an indigo flesh. A butcher was seducing a spider, in company of a holy book. Sunbathing in mass grave of skulls. The eyes peeking out of the caps. You want

She was too smart to be herself Too feeble to live for her own She kept her dreams locked in her closet They kept sulking and dying Dejected, in their own cocoon. In every ruin, she found her castle Each

I am just a thread. I came out of the fibers of a tree older than letters, or – maybe – out of a cotton plant thrown by chance winds into a field where stones, flowers, thorns and wheat multiply,

Awaken like the swelling sun, My exotic lust takes a slow run Awaken like the genesis of day, My sweet love sings this midday A new sound is heard like the call of a bird, My will sobs at the

I love the misty mornings, Lord The days when I can’t see Beyond the garden’s leafy edge And things that bother me I love a world so small and snug A gentle cocoon shroud Where all I touch is soft

Don’t tell on me, but yes, I can’t breathe no more, This smile concealing my frightened soul, I can’t take no more, Don’t tell on me; have lost myself in all these, I’m just a walking robot, no one sees

Divinity isn’t bestowed no one interviews you for that job insanity is a big part of the benefits package once you’ve actually experienced Truth you cease if an animal became human – evolution in action – what does a human

She is the first and last woman; Her hair is one thousand color waterfalls, nature briefed in her two almond eyes, her eyebrows two gardens riding on astonishment whispers, her cheeks two apples rolling down from Paradise always fleeing away

From my lashes fall a salty solution but never the solution to the trigger of my violent pollution. Feeding the well within me with ammunition of self-pity. My thoughts seeking through garbage dumps of my mishaps, picking up and hoarding

(1) Here I am bathing, this winter, like an antelope under rain showers. God’s voice is still walking on clay laid out from the beginning of time up to the end of earth. The first woman’s eyelashes are scattering from

Hidden deep into the stack of memories was my diary, a small pocket book not the usual bulky planner. Yesterday, I stumbled upon it, as I lay on grass and it lay somewhere there, dusting for many a year, waiting

What is it? Why is it? Is it a desire of something wrong, something bad? Is it a desire of something we shouldn’t have. Why do we desire things we shouldn’t have? Who says we shouldn’t have have it? Who

It’s the shitty line he used Making you feel like garbage Like the trash you leave Wrapped tightly in a black bag On the side of the road Waiting to be picked up by someone else Recycled and recycled While

My first book was a store of love words were made of sound and touch characters smiled and sung lullabies I learnt to talk and run for the sun. There was a flood of colors, letters, sentence rules and social

Well and now you are somewhere on the Highway to Heaven or in the golden fields that Never need a plowing, either way, you should Be a saint by now ‘cuz you were an angel When you were alive, you

Robots on the line, With their tedious whine. Options galore, Just hit buttons one to four. What happened to the good old days, When real people used to say, Hello and how can I help you, And what was that

Happy birthday indeed! What a best friend you are To those who are in need: To have an open talk To find a path to walk… To listen to a lovely tune To watch it this full moon To sit

I’ve hit puberty Now boys look at me I’ve finally stopped growing But my stretch marks are showing Makeup sprawled all over my face My body stops me from running a fast pace Now here I stand wanting more As

I am within Myself a world The rest, they are mere satellites Orbiting round Me in intimate swirl; I am the dark iris, they the white; I am salvation, the perfect particle, I am a masterpiece complete; I am nirvana,

If you see a change in me It’s not because I want it you see It’s hard to be who I want to be When I’m pushed to the limits you see I’ve had the soul ripped out of me

Your house is a historical landmark That’s been passed down from Generation to generation but little Did you know this gift you were About to inherit would cause Great chaos and devastation.. Your ancestors are getting Restless now longing for

Blue bike(Northern dialectably) A bicycle that’s new was blue and swankity it had 52 spokes all chromed and silver fancery That bike was mine I rode up hills to see the countery and down dales to go fast and rode

Seeking vengeance Racing across the heavens at a frightening speed An unearthly fog spreads Consuming the moon and stars It creeps across the water Hotter then the sun A jagged bolt of lightning tears the sky in half Highly ionized

Standing at an inevitable crossroad, with a trail of confusing thoughts, heading on a journey of loneliness, storm clouds gathered around me. Perplexed at the turn of events, tired, helpless yet willing to fight, the hardest phase of life, I