Amain I want to maneuver
Onward into her incandescent
Cloak, as the igneous smoke
That arises. Mine eye's art
Tired and crying; as I just
Want one fragment of her
Skin to feeleth. O' as a man
For I'm weak, as an extra-
mundane being mine thought's
Come out faster then mine
Word's canst speak. I wilt
Continueth not in the flesh,
For the flesh burdeneth the
Soul; though in patience
And spirit, ourn long-
Suffering shalt be made
As the finest of gold. O'
Loveliest Jane, thought
Of mine thinking's, red
In mine brain, How the
Day's and night's art
Long, though I wilt
Still continueth in
Glory for what
I do hath. In happy or
Sad, good and bad; I'll always look ahead.
To the morrow wherein mine frown wilt be laughter and the roses I shalt giveth thee wilt be of rose loving scent. O' soon mine tear's shalt be dried, and mine phantom wilt no longer be in rent.
As I giveth gratitude to ourn Potter who maketh all thing's new,
Who bringeth water, with droplet dew, who maketh bird's hath nest's, and babies hath homes, in places of peacefulness. O' if the morrow doth for some reason not arrive; I'll send thee an engravement on mount Malindang, With the ring that never
Made it to thee; and mine kisses to spell thy name.
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( pookie dedication)
Long-suffering- having or showing patience in spite of troubles, especially those caused by other people.
Rent-a large tear in a piece of fabric...
Morrow- tommorrow- next day....
Wherein- in which...
The way of the Spirit is...
Love, the Spirit's essence;
Joy, the Spirit's song;
Peace, the Spirit's rest;
Longsuffering, the Spirit's patience;
Gentleness, the Spirit's touch;
Goodness, the Spirit's manner;
Faith, the Spirit's attitude;
Meekness, the Spirit's strength;
Temperance, the Spirit's control.
©1981 Michael S. Davis
A Commentary on Galatians 5:22-23
with a soft touch and a blushing smile,
vibrant green creeps into the landscape.
the longsuffering trees,
whose limbs have long been heavy with snow,
finally stretch their arms into the warm air
as suggestive buds speckle their gnarled fingers.
the clouds swell with life, and the sun
glows stronger than ever before.
as their spidery roots drink voraciously
from the moist dirt, smirking daisies and
blooming tulips unfurl their alluring petals
and bask in the glorious yellow light.
the firm, unyielding ground is teeming
and bustling with a myriad of fauna,
unsteadily rubbing the remnants of slumber
from their bleary, squinting eyes.
the flat, chilly silence of winter
has been quelled by the lilting robin’s song.
and as the very earth herself wakens
from this melancholy hibernation,
i let go, and float down that euphoric wave called life.
No lightly cawing jest now
but bird wheezle
from the filthy flying rags
darkened further by the lies
Spreading their fetid steaming rage
Across the hills
Across the dales
and down in the valley,
valley so low –
where the mocows cringe,
“Bright shining as the sun.”
“When we push this button we could blow up the world,”
But they pushed anyway
And pushed and pushed again
And they found Nature
to be longsuffering
but ignored her cries to “Stop!”
and Ignorant in their glee
they did not perceive their ends...
No Taps: only wind; then, silence.
Copyright © 2013 by John Russell; all rights reserved. No reproduction allowed in any manner whatsoever without permission.
It goes down like
The ice-cold tendrils of hell's deepest level
Are clawing at the slick walls
Of my tight throat.
A stone the weight of a mammoth
Settles in the pit of my stomach.
And the edges of my vision
Darken until it's just a pinprick.
Legs unsteady and ready
To collapse and fail me.
It's coming and I can't stop it.
I can never stop it.
All I can do is endure.
How many more things
Must I longsuffer?
How many more times
Can my heart break
Before the putting back together
Is worth far less than
The staying broken?
I don't know how much more
I have in me to just breathe again.
This pain, this migraine,
Is just the symptom of