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"affords" poems
As mother nature's Punitive measure Against a society In maintaining The statuesque That doesn't bother, Our rivers Had become subject To a water thirst, To the extent Of projecting Rocky ribs Terrifyingly protruded out For easy count! But now thanks to The all-out, terrace making And reafforestation effort Of each catchment Farmers have made a point And also  to the afforestation Move of the government Rivers aside from quenching Their insatiable thirst Have resumed To brim over With floods Drinking water To their hearts' content. Our forests once stripped of Their wooded cover Have started, fast, to recover From afar they are seen Robed eye-catching green From a fry-pan sky Allowing a shelter Also busy Carbon to sequester. Wild animals That migrated Have preferred Back their way to find. Now farmers don't have Deep to dig To sink a water well Or find a nearby spring. Birds are heard chirruping Be it winter, summer or spring, While Brooks bubbling. Buzzing and hovering From this to that flower Bees are producing Organic honey by the hour. Promising a bumper harvest Farmer's plots have Fortunately continued To resuscitate! Those leaving Their denuded abode behind Away, who preferred To stay 'We will return back home soon! ' Is what They  say. Happily enough Mother nature Affords us a second chance Imbued with Environment stewardship If  we are willing to mend Our wrong 'Feast today famine tomorrow! ' stance. To dispel the spectre Of climate change And systematically face The global challenge True to the adage 'We have either to swim together or sink together! ' Hence in fighting the challenge Or adapting to the change Back scratching, We have to be on the same page. Indeed, irrigation must Not slip our mind For erratic rainfall A  lasting solution If we must find.// Once a famous Ethiopian Poet  Pro.Debebe Seifu Who had passed away had  penned down a picturesque poem lamenting the land degradation, deforestation and change of climate the country was suffering.The bad scenario seemed unrecoverable.Now a days Ethiopia is reversing that sad episode.I have therefore to write a poem on this #change   #trees   #erosion   #climate   #deforestation   #enviroment   #degeradation   #desertification
0
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 4:22 AM UTC
alem-hailu-gkristos
Fortunately it resuscitates
As mother nature's Punitive measure Against a society In maintaining The statuesque That doesn't bother, Our rivers Had become subject To a water thirst, To the extent Of projecting Rocky ribs Terrifyingly protruded out For easy count! But now thanks to The all-out, terrace making And reafforestation effort Of each catchment Farmers have made a point And also  to the afforestation Move of the government Rivers aside from quenching Their insatiable thirst Have resumed To brim over With floods Drinking water To their hearts' content. Our forests once stripped of Their wooded cover Have started, fast, to recover From afar they are seen Robed eye-catching green From a fry-pan sky Allowing a shelter Also busy Carbon to sequester. Wild animals That migrated Have preferred Back their way to find. Now farmers don't have Deep to dig To sink a water well Or find a nearby spring. Birds are heard chirruping Be it winter, summer or spring, While Brooks bubbling. Buzzing and hovering From this to that flower Bees are producing Organic honey by the hour. Promising a bumper harvest Farmer's plots have Fortunately continued To resuscitate! Those leaving Their denuded abode behind Away, who preferred To stay 'We will return back home soon! ' Is what They  say. Happily enough Mother nature Affords us a second chance Imbued with Environment stewardship If  we are willing to mend Our wrong 'Feast today famine tomorrow! ' stance. To dispel the spectre Of climate change And systematically face The global challenge True to the adage 'We have either to swim together or sink together! ' Hence in fighting the challenge Or adapting to the change Back scratching, We have to be on the same page. Indeed, irrigation must Not slip our mind For erratic rainfall A  lasting solution If we must find.// Once a famous Ethiopian Poet  Pro.Debebe Seifu Who had passed away had  penned down a picturesque poem lamenting the land degradation, deforestation and change of climate the country was suffering.The bad scenario seemed unrecoverable.Now a days Ethiopia is reversing that sad episode.I have therefore to write a poem on this #change   #trees   #erosion   #climate   #deforestation   #enviroment   #degeradation   #desertification
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91
#Ogun owed Oxun for the fee he paid to divorce Yemayá in the watery deep. Babalu Aye‘s messenger delayed (no *** in the bargain – price too steep) until San Martín, divine caballero deceived the third wife of el Indio Guerrero. (Obatala‘s beats got lost in transit the rhythm robbed by macumba-bandit.) Eleguá cleared paths for He Who Opens Pores. Black roosters smoked puros at midnight. Outdoors, Santa Muerte was asked to turn down the noise so Nana Buluku could get some sleep. As she gathered Ashé, reduced to a heap of Yoruba fool’s gold anointed with blood Oduduwa pretended he understood; but his mother-in-law knew he never would until Olódùmarè returned from the feast having sacrificed roosters while facing east. The santero drew me a pictogram to protect me from forces my poem conjured but the blood of a sacrificed perfect lamb affords more protection, I knew. He wondered.
0
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 8:39 PM UTC
connecthook
Santería
#Ogun owed Oxun for the fee he paid to divorce Yemayá in the watery deep. Babalu Aye‘s messenger delayed (no *** in the bargain – price too steep) until San Martín, divine caballero deceived the third wife of el Indio Guerrero. (Obatala‘s beats got lost in transit the rhythm robbed by macumba-bandit.) Eleguá cleared paths for He Who Opens Pores. Black roosters smoked puros at midnight. Outdoors, Santa Muerte was asked to turn down the noise so Nana Buluku could get some sleep. As she gathered Ashé, reduced to a heap of Yoruba fool’s gold anointed with blood Oduduwa pretended he understood; but his mother-in-law knew he never would until Olódùmarè returned from the feast having sacrificed roosters while facing east. The santero drew me a pictogram to protect me from forces my poem conjured but the blood of a sacrificed perfect lamb affords more protection, I knew. He wondered.
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22
Let not my love be called idolatry, Nor my belovèd as an idol show, Since all alike my songs and praises be To one, of one, still such, and ever so. Kind is my love today, tomorrow kind, Still constant in a wondrous excellence; Therefore my verse to constancy confined, One thing expressing, leaves out difference. “Fair, kind, and true” is all my argument, “Fair, kind, and true” varying to other words; And in this change is my invention spent, Three themes in one, which wondrous scope affords. Fair, kind, and true, have often lived alone. Which three till now never kept seat in one.
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5k
William Shakespeare
Sonnet 105: Let Not My Love Be Called Idolatry
Let not my love be called idolatry, Nor my belovèd as an idol show, Since all alike my songs and praises be To one, of one, still such, and ever so. Kind is my love today, tomorrow kind, Still constant in a wondrous excellence; Therefore my verse to constancy confined, One thing expressing, leaves out difference. “Fair, kind, and true” is all my argument, “Fair, kind, and true” varying to other words; And in this change is my invention spent, Three themes in one, which wondrous scope affords. Fair, kind, and true, have often lived alone. Which three till now never kept seat in one.
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14
Hair, the color of ripened wheat, with the sun shinning upon it. Eyes, so clear a green, shot with gold, as to be jewels. A smile that reaches her eyes and casts a glow from within. Five tiny fingers grasp an aged hand, with the delicacy of fine porcelain. Two small feet, lively tapping, in an excited tempo. A Grandfather walks, stooped, along beside her, with pride evident in the smile he affords others. His hat, a dapper angle, upon his head of snowy fringe. His one hand held by hers, while in his other, a few wrinkled bills, held aloft as a trophy. I stop and watch their approach. I watch as they pass beside me on the path. As the two, young at heart, head for the colorful, ice cream truck parked at the curb.
0
Feb 8, 2011
Feb 8, 2011 at 12:43 PM UTC
paula-swanson
Ice Cream
Hair, the color of ripened wheat, with the sun shinning upon it. Eyes, so clear a green, shot with gold, as to be jewels. A smile that reaches her eyes and casts a glow from within. Five tiny fingers grasp an aged hand, with the delicacy of fine porcelain. Two small feet, lively tapping, in an excited tempo. A Grandfather walks, stooped, along beside her, with pride evident in the smile he affords others. His hat, a dapper angle, upon his head of snowy fringe. His one hand held by hers, while in his other, a few wrinkled bills, held aloft as a trophy. I stop and watch their approach. I watch as they pass beside me on the path. As the two, young at heart, head for the colorful, ice cream truck parked at the curb.
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23
1045 Nature rarer uses Yellow Than another Hue. Saves she all of that for Sunsets Prodigal of Blue Spending Scarlet, like a Woman Yellow she affords Only scantly and selectly Like a Lover’s Words.
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4.7k
Emily Dickinson
Nature rarer uses Yellow
1045 Nature rarer uses Yellow Than another Hue. Saves she all of that for Sunsets Prodigal of Blue Spending Scarlet, like a Woman Yellow she affords Only scantly and selectly Like a Lover’s Words.
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9
The words are a playground, no bell to call me in. And wander I must past fences, over grasses verdant finding trees that take words and split them like branches. I eat the apples leaving some of me behind along the way. I am a constant poet. If every morning that began with words in mind prompted a new poem, then I'd be a constant poet.  Like this morning, would have been a bit about gerunds and how you just shouldn't gerundize some nouns because it isn't right.  And then some are right but not because the connotation of the word or context remains the same.  Take pan and paning, for example.  One is breakfast and the other in film.  But anyway, if I'm allowed to not make sense often then perhaps I am a constant poet.  I asked the question, "Why is the expression take a ****  Taking isn't what we do..." Perhaps the language affords us  many luxuries of interpretation that forgive literal correctness and rules.  Like writing a paragraph of prose for Hello Poetry.  But maybe we are here because we question the limits and take the license and more.  The words become a playground, not a chore.  Yes that's it!  My morning meandering leads to a single poetic thought. The words are a playground, no bell to call me in. And wander I must past fences, over grasses verdant finding trees that take words and split them like branches. I eat the apples leaving some of me behind along the way. I am a constant poet.
0
Jul 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015 at 12:11 PM UTC
amy-ha
Constant Poet
The words are a playground, no bell to call me in. And wander I must past fences, over grasses verdant finding trees that take words and split them like branches. I eat the apples leaving some of me behind along the way. I am a constant poet. If every morning that began with words in mind prompted a new poem, then I'd be a constant poet.  Like this morning, would have been a bit about gerunds and how you just shouldn't gerundize some nouns because it isn't right.  And then some are right but not because the connotation of the word or context remains the same.  Take pan and paning, for example.  One is breakfast and the other in film.  But anyway, if I'm allowed to not make sense often then perhaps I am a constant poet.  I asked the question, "Why is the expression take a ****  Taking isn't what we do..." Perhaps the language affords us  many luxuries of interpretation that forgive literal correctness and rules.  Like writing a paragraph of prose for Hello Poetry.  But maybe we are here because we question the limits and take the license and more.  The words become a playground, not a chore.  Yes that's it!  My morning meandering leads to a single poetic thought. The words are a playground, no bell to call me in. And wander I must past fences, over grasses verdant finding trees that take words and split them like branches. I eat the apples leaving some of me behind along the way. I am a constant poet.
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19
When stretch'd on one's bed With a fierce-throbbing head, Which preculdes alike thought or repose, How little one cares For the grandest affairs That may busy the world as it goes! How little one feels For the waltzes and reels Of our Dance-loving friends at a Ball! How slight one's concern To conjecture or learn What their flounces or hearts may befall. How little one minds If a company dines On the best that the Season affords! How short is one's muse O'er the Sauces and Stews, Or the Guests, be they Beggars or Lords. How little the Bells, Ring they Peels, toll they Knells, Can attract our attention or Ears! The Bride may be married, The Corse may be carried And touch nor our hopes nor our fears. Our own ****** pains Ev'ry faculty chains; We can feel on no subject besides. Tis in health and in ease We the power must seize For our friends and our souls to provide.
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3.6k
Jane Austen
When Stretch'd on One's Bed
When stretch'd on one's bed With a fierce-throbbing head, Which preculdes alike thought or repose, How little one cares For the grandest affairs That may busy the world as it goes! How little one feels For the waltzes and reels Of our Dance-loving friends at a Ball! How slight one's concern To conjecture or learn What their flounces or hearts may befall. How little one minds If a company dines On the best that the Season affords! How short is one's muse O'er the Sauces and Stews, Or the Guests, be they Beggars or Lords. How little the Bells, Ring they Peels, toll they Knells, Can attract our attention or Ears! The Bride may be married, The Corse may be carried And touch nor our hopes nor our fears. Our own ****** pains Ev'ry faculty chains; We can feel on no subject besides. Tis in health and in ease We the power must seize For our friends and our souls to provide.
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30
Give me more love or more disdain; The torrid, or the frozen zone, Bring equal ease unto my pain; The temperate affords me none; Either extreme, of love, or hate, Is sweeter than a calm estate. Give me a storm; if it be love, Like Danae in that golden show’r I swim in pleasure; if it prove Disdain, that torrent will devour My vulture-hopes; and he’s possess’d Of heaven, that’s but from hell releas’d. Then crown my joys, or cure my pain; Give me more love, or more disdain.
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2.9k
Thomas Carew
Mediocrity In Love Rejected
Give me more love or more disdain; The torrid, or the frozen zone, Bring equal ease unto my pain; The temperate affords me none; Either extreme, of love, or hate, Is sweeter than a calm estate. Give me a storm; if it be love, Like Danae in that golden show’r I swim in pleasure; if it prove Disdain, that torrent will devour My vulture-hopes; and he’s possess’d Of heaven, that’s but from hell releas’d. Then crown my joys, or cure my pain; Give me more love, or more disdain.
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14
561 I measure every Grief I meet With narrow, probing, Eyes— I wonder if It weighs like Mine— Or has an Easier size. I wonder if They bore it long— Or did it just begin— I could not tell the Date of Mine— It feels so old a pain— I wonder if it hurts to live— And if They have to try— And whether—could They choose between— It would not be—to die— I note that Some—gone patient long— At length, renew their smile— An imitation of a Light That has so little Oil— I wonder if when Years have piled— Some Thousands—on the Harm— That hurt them early—such a lapse Could give them any Balm— Or would they go on aching still Through Centuries of Nerve— Enlightened to a larger Pain— In Contrast with the Love— The Grieved—are many—I am told— There is the various Cause— Death—is but one—and comes but once— And only nails the eyes— There’s Grief of Want—and Grief of Cold— A sort they call “Despair”— There’s Banishment from native Eyes— In sight of Native Air— And though I may not guess the kind— Correctly—yet to me A piercing Comfort it affords In passing Calvary— To note the fashions—of the Cross— And how they’re mostly worn— Still fascinated to presume That Some—are like My Own—
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2.9k
Emily Dickinson
I measure every Grief I meet
561 I measure every Grief I meet With narrow, probing, Eyes— I wonder if It weighs like Mine— Or has an Easier size. I wonder if They bore it long— Or did it just begin— I could not tell the Date of Mine— It feels so old a pain— I wonder if it hurts to live— And if They have to try— And whether—could They choose between— It would not be—to die— I note that Some—gone patient long— At length, renew their smile— An imitation of a Light That has so little Oil— I wonder if when Years have piled— Some Thousands—on the Harm— That hurt them early—such a lapse Could give them any Balm— Or would they go on aching still Through Centuries of Nerve— Enlightened to a larger Pain— In Contrast with the Love— The Grieved—are many—I am told— There is the various Cause— Death—is but one—and comes but once— And only nails the eyes— There’s Grief of Want—and Grief of Cold— A sort they call “Despair”— There’s Banishment from native Eyes— In sight of Native Air— And though I may not guess the kind— Correctly—yet to me A piercing Comfort it affords In passing Calvary— To note the fashions—of the Cross— And how they’re mostly worn— Still fascinated to presume That Some—are like My Own—
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41
*I listen to you breathing in the darkness A sound that turns my lips into a smile A soft rumble like the purr of the sweetest kitten There is no denying that I am wholly smitten So I listen to you breathing in the darkness For just a little while For just a little while longer I am lost in the slow, steady sound The sound that makes my stress falter And I pray that life doesn't alter For just a little while longer I bask in the love that I've found The peace that your slumber affords me Is more than I have ever known The hope that used to elude me The joy that once seemed to exclude me The peace that your slumber affords me Makes it so I don't fear being alone Tonight as I listen to your sleeping I remember how life forges through Embracing the unknown connections The comfort in emotion's reflections Tonight as I listen to your sleeping I am lulled to sleep dreaming of you*
0
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 3:12 AM UTC
prttybrd
Lullabies and Dreamscapes
*I listen to you breathing in the darkness A sound that turns my lips into a smile A soft rumble like the purr of the sweetest kitten There is no denying that I am wholly smitten So I listen to you breathing in the darkness For just a little while For just a little while longer I am lost in the slow, steady sound The sound that makes my stress falter And I pray that life doesn't alter For just a little while longer I bask in the love that I've found The peace that your slumber affords me Is more than I have ever known The hope that used to elude me The joy that once seemed to exclude me The peace that your slumber affords me Makes it so I don't fear being alone Tonight as I listen to your sleeping I remember how life forges through Embracing the unknown connections The comfort in emotion's reflections Tonight as I listen to your sleeping I am lulled to sleep dreaming of you*
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24
They say the eyes are the window to the soul, peering upon our inner being, as it were. Upon my deep reflection, my breath it stole, as there, within, my true self was captured. Peering upon our inner being, as it were, affords one, the chance, to see yourself in truth. As there, within my true self, was captured. I could offer no defense, against the truth. Affords one, the chance to see yourself. In truth, it reveals all the lies I have lived under. I could offer, no defense, against the proof. No longer can I live my life with blinders. It reveals all the lies I have lived under, stripping away the mask I show the world. No longer can I live my life with blinders. I will show what lies behind these eyes of emerald. Stripping away the mask, I show the world, upon my deep reflection, my breath it stole. No longer can I live my life with blinders. They say the eyes are the window to the soul. __________________________ Note Depression forces one to don the mask of normalcy. For the world makes you feel tainted when you admit and show yourself, as you are now.
0
Nov 23, 2010
Nov 23, 2010 at 8:06 AM UTC
paula-swanson
Mask
They say the eyes are the window to the soul, peering upon our inner being, as it were. Upon my deep reflection, my breath it stole, as there, within, my true self was captured. Peering upon our inner being, as it were, affords one, the chance, to see yourself in truth. As there, within my true self, was captured. I could offer no defense, against the truth. Affords one, the chance to see yourself. In truth, it reveals all the lies I have lived under. I could offer, no defense, against the proof. No longer can I live my life with blinders. It reveals all the lies I have lived under, stripping away the mask I show the world. No longer can I live my life with blinders. I will show what lies behind these eyes of emerald. Stripping away the mask, I show the world, upon my deep reflection, my breath it stole. No longer can I live my life with blinders. They say the eyes are the window to the soul. __________________________ Note Depression forces one to don the mask of normalcy. For the world makes you feel tainted when you admit and show yourself, as you are now.
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24
379 Rehearsal to Ourselves Of a Withdrawn Delight— Affords a Bliss like ****** Omnipotent—Acute— We will not drop the Dirk— Because We love the Wound The Dirk Commemorate—Itself Remind Us that we died.
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2.4k
Emily Dickinson
Rehearsal to Ourselves
379 Rehearsal to Ourselves Of a Withdrawn Delight— Affords a Bliss like ****** Omnipotent—Acute— We will not drop the Dirk— Because We love the Wound The Dirk Commemorate—Itself Remind Us that we died.
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9
(i see) two scions dance in traffic: sun and moon, sky and stars; God’s two heirs dancing in traffic as if they weren’t demigods but small maya birds - transfixed mortals, fighting to keep away from the blinding might their status affords them. as His children their world and its light is for their taking, of which they can feed - or not: they go on instead like hungry wolves, next to I, rising (sidelined, falling) flagging down jeeps in the thick of the Vinzons Hall jeepney stop. They bark loud and cheerily to keep idle; from unravelling their wax-worn strings. They are birds guided by concrete routes, those yearning to feel its bleakness in each syllable creeping up their gold-and-marble throats: the soft choke of exhaust smoke and the rosiness of their gaunt in the face of all-knowing fate: that of snatching from death a world not theirs. They declare: “Perseus we are not, and Janus we choose.” They shuttlling commuters obscure and without fuss and without end to and fro, where they come they spit on the universe in baggy basketball shorts
0
Dec 4, 2016
Dec 4, 2016 at 10:42 AM UTC
jedd-ong
Vinzons Hall Bus Crier Oracle:
(i see) two scions dance in traffic: sun and moon, sky and stars; God’s two heirs dancing in traffic as if they weren’t demigods but small maya birds - transfixed mortals, fighting to keep away from the blinding might their status affords them. as His children their world and its light is for their taking, of which they can feed - or not: they go on instead like hungry wolves, next to I, rising (sidelined, falling) flagging down jeeps in the thick of the Vinzons Hall jeepney stop. They bark loud and cheerily to keep idle; from unravelling their wax-worn strings. They are birds guided by concrete routes, those yearning to feel its bleakness in each syllable creeping up their gold-and-marble throats: the soft choke of exhaust smoke and the rosiness of their gaunt in the face of all-knowing fate: that of snatching from death a world not theirs. They declare: “Perseus we are not, and Janus we choose.” They shuttlling commuters obscure and without fuss and without end to and fro, where they come they spit on the universe in baggy basketball shorts
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23
We read “Captain Hook’s collection of psalms, And other songs to sing along to.” Nothing better to do off hand, But revel in our own arrogance. And, we notched holes in leather straps, To expand at the waste. Drive through diets replacing lessons- Of keeping elbows off the table. Of speaking only when spoken to. Twenty-one years plus a little change. And, daddy says- Everything I taught you is replaceable. And, daddy says- Mistake is a just a word. Hasn’t got it figured out either, At least he admits it, Choking down another cigarette, Says: here’s to now. And, don’t break your back if you don’t have to. Technology affords avenues Different rivers to float experience Overalls and baseball caps And the tree house that broke my tibia. Talked through tin cans in this age, Of golden innocence. Now I’m Facebooking and twitting or twittering Or… who the **** cares? No one I care about. Rivers given way to raw sewage. And, even dogs eat their own **** This cat called my computer a *********** box- If the shoe fits, Clichés get the hits. Search: Blonde **** Big ******* 5 million 38 hundred and 2 results. Neon Bibles erupt in the sky. Today I am a believer in the quarter pounder with cheese Tomorrow in gasoline for 2.85 Midas made gold Now he wants to change my oil. They call that economics Or advertising. And, suddenly my sneakers aren’t good enough Voice on the other end reassures- My ideas are manic. Paint a scene of terror. Laying waste to iron giants- Tearing down systems in place to restrict Setting fire to everything- Rack it up to fulfilling. Rack it up to rebuilding. Dismal haze, red glow to ash filled sky, That makes mom clutch the good book- Saying its time to go home. How she knows her redeemer lives. Clarity reigns supreme And, daddy says- Son, you’ve been watching too much TV. And daddy says- You catch more with honey by rule.
0
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 1:37 PM UTC
joseph-brooks-nickell
"Too Much TV"
We read “Captain Hook’s collection of psalms, And other songs to sing along to.” Nothing better to do off hand, But revel in our own arrogance. And, we notched holes in leather straps, To expand at the waste. Drive through diets replacing lessons- Of keeping elbows off the table. Of speaking only when spoken to. Twenty-one years plus a little change. And, daddy says- Everything I taught you is replaceable. And, daddy says- Mistake is a just a word. Hasn’t got it figured out either, At least he admits it, Choking down another cigarette, Says: here’s to now. And, don’t break your back if you don’t have to. Technology affords avenues Different rivers to float experience Overalls and baseball caps And the tree house that broke my tibia. Talked through tin cans in this age, Of golden innocence. Now I’m Facebooking and twitting or twittering Or… who the **** cares? No one I care about. Rivers given way to raw sewage. And, even dogs eat their own **** This cat called my computer a *********** box- If the shoe fits, Clichés get the hits. Search: Blonde **** Big ******* 5 million 38 hundred and 2 results. Neon Bibles erupt in the sky. Today I am a believer in the quarter pounder with cheese Tomorrow in gasoline for 2.85 Midas made gold Now he wants to change my oil. They call that economics Or advertising. And, suddenly my sneakers aren’t good enough Voice on the other end reassures- My ideas are manic. Paint a scene of terror. Laying waste to iron giants- Tearing down systems in place to restrict Setting fire to everything- Rack it up to fulfilling. Rack it up to rebuilding. Dismal haze, red glow to ash filled sky, That makes mom clutch the good book- Saying its time to go home. How she knows her redeemer lives. Clarity reigns supreme And, daddy says- Son, you’ve been watching too much TV. And daddy says- You catch more with honey by rule.
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60
Barry’s dead. I saw you dying weeks ago; An oyster shell turned empty can, Scrumpled up and finished By the past’s magnet attraction In your shakey hands. It’s just a habit now and you can hardly kick yourself. Buckets of Grolsch: My swash-buckling hero Turned slosh-slurping zero once again And shiny surfaces Never suited you. Scrub away at that black demon matter With the sole white spirit Your genius affords. A shattered socialist Posy primrose ****** That’s the story of your life – All most man. Now beneath the cowslips And the heifer’s hooves, Your saintly-thorny words without a roof: But who will speak for you? And trawl the depths As you once did in youth? Prizing open oysters… I hope that where you are Your silence brings relief. I hope that where you are You smell the borage breeze. I hope that where you are There’s ox-cheek for tea And your carbonated past Is carbonating in mute peace. Tonight the argent stars Are dulled in disbelief Tonight the slate that you’ve carved Is the hardest you will teach. Tonight the tumblestones Are falling down in grief: For Barry’s gone to rediscover Pearl And the beauty of her peace.
0
Feb 22, 2011
Feb 22, 2011 at 4:40 AM UTC
daniel-james
Rediscovered Pearl
Barry’s dead. I saw you dying weeks ago; An oyster shell turned empty can, Scrumpled up and finished By the past’s magnet attraction In your shakey hands. It’s just a habit now and you can hardly kick yourself. Buckets of Grolsch: My swash-buckling hero Turned slosh-slurping zero once again And shiny surfaces Never suited you. Scrub away at that black demon matter With the sole white spirit Your genius affords. A shattered socialist Posy primrose ****** That’s the story of your life – All most man. Now beneath the cowslips And the heifer’s hooves, Your saintly-thorny words without a roof: But who will speak for you? And trawl the depths As you once did in youth? Prizing open oysters… I hope that where you are Your silence brings relief. I hope that where you are You smell the borage breeze. I hope that where you are There’s ox-cheek for tea And your carbonated past Is carbonating in mute peace. Tonight the argent stars Are dulled in disbelief Tonight the slate that you’ve carved Is the hardest you will teach. Tonight the tumblestones Are falling down in grief: For Barry’s gone to rediscover Pearl And the beauty of her peace.
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43
The vets that fought for the Boston tea party native impostors of tea tossing or the vets that were slaves and fought for freedom the vets that go to other countries to **** non white people all of the care vets have or not and funding and compassion should go to freed slaves the vets that killed slave masters and saved their children from **** and torture the independence that declaring freedom with broken chains dead slave masters beautiful songs and music the blues jazz art and technology affords or the independence declared from being free of being taxed The independence declared when a slave felt knowing that in Britain the emancipation has already been declared seeing the desperation in the slave profiteers seeing the desperation of whiteness and the independence declared when experiencing the freedom of Escaping liberty proving that a human being is not a resource to exploit Independence day
0
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 11:29 AM UTC
elan-bonde-gregory
declaring independence
The vets that fought for the Boston tea party native impostors of tea tossing or the vets that were slaves and fought for freedom the vets that go to other countries to **** non white people all of the care vets have or not and funding and compassion should go to freed slaves the vets that killed slave masters and saved their children from **** and torture the independence that declaring freedom with broken chains dead slave masters beautiful songs and music the blues jazz art and technology affords or the independence declared from being free of being taxed The independence declared when a slave felt knowing that in Britain the emancipation has already been declared seeing the desperation in the slave profiteers seeing the desperation of whiteness and the independence declared when experiencing the freedom of Escaping liberty proving that a human being is not a resource to exploit Independence day
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25
they say god is perfect. that holds true for me, too. no concept contains me in totality. Stirner wrestled with the undefinable: an indefatigable Unique, anarchic, lacking category. Camus perhaps said it best, "i rebel, therefore i exist." i strive to personify resistance. i find the answers in harmony with Counterparts, defining *The Difference Between Hell and Home*: "i am what i am and i am an outcast." an outlaw, a nobody akin to Nietzsche, returning infinitely— stretched like so many grains of sand on time's flat surface, orbiting eternally around the creative Nothing at half-past 3:00 in the morning. a singularity, deconstructing Derrida's Différance. a nomad on the margins, wandering aimlessly, roaming perpetually with Deleuze and Foucault, an astronaut arranged along the endless frontiers of an ever-expanding cosmos. Vonnegut recognized the periphery affords a radical view to the few who choose to embrace that which cannot be Known. a zero-sum game between Death and me, staving off manic-depressive ennui if only momentarily.
0
Dec 19, 2016
Dec 19, 2016 at 2:55 AM UTC
pearsonbolt
outlaw
they say god is perfect. that holds true for me, too. no concept contains me in totality. Stirner wrestled with the undefinable: an indefatigable Unique, anarchic, lacking category. Camus perhaps said it best, "i rebel, therefore i exist." i strive to personify resistance. i find the answers in harmony with Counterparts, defining *The Difference Between Hell and Home*: "i am what i am and i am an outcast." an outlaw, a nobody akin to Nietzsche, returning infinitely— stretched like so many grains of sand on time's flat surface, orbiting eternally around the creative Nothing at half-past 3:00 in the morning. a singularity, deconstructing Derrida's Différance. a nomad on the margins, wandering aimlessly, roaming perpetually with Deleuze and Foucault, an astronaut arranged along the endless frontiers of an ever-expanding cosmos. Vonnegut recognized the periphery affords a radical view to the few who choose to embrace that which cannot be Known. a zero-sum game between Death and me, staving off manic-depressive ennui if only momentarily.
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44
What happens when an eye for eye has left the whole world blind Will that be the time we see we should've left the past behind With each liberty they take with each human right ignored they build for us a prison for the safety it affords Until we are no longer free and they've stopped us being brave by promoting threats and fear to make sure that we behave Forgiveness is the only way to get peace back on the shelves for until we forgive others we will never free ourselves.
0
Aug 26, 2010
Aug 26, 2010 at 3:23 PM UTC
a-thomas-hawkins
Forgiveness + Peace = Freedom
What happens when an eye for eye has left the whole world blind Will that be the time we see we should've left the past behind With each liberty they take with each human right ignored they build for us a prison for the safety it affords Until we are no longer free and they've stopped us being brave by promoting threats and fear to make sure that we behave Forgiveness is the only way to get peace back on the shelves for until we forgive others we will never free ourselves.
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16
Deafening Roar When you find your life surrounded by sheer Granite walls in front a waterfall crashes the cool mist Affords a delightful respite on the brilliant pool seven feet above this table of water a rainbow of vivid Colors forms arched particles of water premiered by over powering dazzled Sun rays the mind bows Before uncommon glory experience what birds in flight feel but they can’t express it either then wonder Triggers the other side of brooding the highest delights pass as soldiers in their finest attire they move in A cloud covering of glory it is admixture of wisdom mysticism with a great weight of courage their faces Imply the hard lives they live faith and trust refined in the caldron of sacrifice they have brushed granite And it entered their psyche forever more tested and true their vesture dipped in blood never to break Ranks with the fallen warrior brotherhood it is worldwide its rainbow is derived from nationality the Nobility of a people is safe guarded daily by their knowledge of duty peace must be mined in far flung Regions that are fraught with peril love of country drives them on tranquil shores first gleaming is Derived from those that unflinching bare danger in the raw where evil does not show any pretense Its plan is destroy then put in place near insanity then pronounce it good as the innocent are daily Consumed but truth will not submit or die there is a strong hold that is made from pure granite justice Cascades continuously from this pool freedom forms we drink deeply then with colors unknown to the Dark evil we go forth and cure the land that has been made despicable by greed and cruel men that Seek only good for themselves their bones are scattered around the globe as freedom marches on.
0
Jan 10, 2012
Jan 10, 2012 at 2:09 AM UTC
hal-loyd-denton
Deafening Roar
Deafening Roar When you find your life surrounded by sheer Granite walls in front a waterfall crashes the cool mist Affords a delightful respite on the brilliant pool seven feet above this table of water a rainbow of vivid Colors forms arched particles of water premiered by over powering dazzled Sun rays the mind bows Before uncommon glory experience what birds in flight feel but they can’t express it either then wonder Triggers the other side of brooding the highest delights pass as soldiers in their finest attire they move in A cloud covering of glory it is admixture of wisdom mysticism with a great weight of courage their faces Imply the hard lives they live faith and trust refined in the caldron of sacrifice they have brushed granite And it entered their psyche forever more tested and true their vesture dipped in blood never to break Ranks with the fallen warrior brotherhood it is worldwide its rainbow is derived from nationality the Nobility of a people is safe guarded daily by their knowledge of duty peace must be mined in far flung Regions that are fraught with peril love of country drives them on tranquil shores first gleaming is Derived from those that unflinching bare danger in the raw where evil does not show any pretense Its plan is destroy then put in place near insanity then pronounce it good as the innocent are daily Consumed but truth will not submit or die there is a strong hold that is made from pure granite justice Cascades continuously from this pool freedom forms we drink deeply then with colors unknown to the Dark evil we go forth and cure the land that has been made despicable by greed and cruel men that Seek only good for themselves their bones are scattered around the globe as freedom marches on.
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18
Though monetary wise, It doesn't promise to pay I craft poems everyday, For instance say 'Why my dream object, To affections mine Is adamant to reciprocate!' The other way round, Though to acquaintances Absurd, it may sound, Some, I have to spend My poems to newspapers Magazines and Websites to send! For love of the labour, I will never Letup the endeavour! There is a Great deal of satisfaction From sitting hours, To put words into action, Racking brain And stretching imagination, From the earth's core and crust To the sky and firmament! At night, when all is quiet, Till I hit the nail Right on the head, I will not repair to bed! Reading poems Has satisfaction No less, for it affords, Handshakes,with poets Of all ages, Poets with poems Of all colour shades. Probably the works Of Shakespeare That we hold dear! What is more,Tagore. In my duties I will be remiss, If I forget  mention Savo,Anna Akmatova, Sara Teasdale And Salomeja Neris. Till getting a cherished corner www.Allpoetry.com www.poetrypoems.com www.poemhunters.com www.hellopoetry.com www.writeoutloud.com www.novelcollective.com Ecstatic I was never! Now I peruse the websites Of contemporary poets, Displaying poetical prowess! I want to add of course An east African voice! Out, a poem to digest One could make a descent Into wisdom's pit, So poem virgins Why don't you go for it? From my experience, For uplifting poems 'Start with Helen Steiner Rice!' It is my advice. 'It is by the brow of one's sweat One could paint The future with A rosy pink, Don't you think? Sitting idle, Dreaming a rose-bed Is quite absurd!' Reversing such mind set Go for targets set!
0
Jul 20, 2015
Jul 20, 2015 at 1:52 AM UTC
alem-hailu-gkristos
A painful satisfaction
Though monetary wise, It doesn't promise to pay I craft poems everyday, For instance say 'Why my dream object, To affections mine Is adamant to reciprocate!' The other way round, Though to acquaintances Absurd, it may sound, Some, I have to spend My poems to newspapers Magazines and Websites to send! For love of the labour, I will never Letup the endeavour! There is a Great deal of satisfaction From sitting hours, To put words into action, Racking brain And stretching imagination, From the earth's core and crust To the sky and firmament! At night, when all is quiet, Till I hit the nail Right on the head, I will not repair to bed! Reading poems Has satisfaction No less, for it affords, Handshakes,with poets Of all ages, Poets with poems Of all colour shades. Probably the works Of Shakespeare That we hold dear! What is more,Tagore. In my duties I will be remiss, If I forget  mention Savo,Anna Akmatova, Sara Teasdale And Salomeja Neris. Till getting a cherished corner www.Allpoetry.com www.poetrypoems.com www.poemhunters.com www.hellopoetry.com www.writeoutloud.com www.novelcollective.com Ecstatic I was never! Now I peruse the websites Of contemporary poets, Displaying poetical prowess! I want to add of course An east African voice! Out, a poem to digest One could make a descent Into wisdom's pit, So poem virgins Why don't you go for it? From my experience, For uplifting poems 'Start with Helen Steiner Rice!' It is my advice. 'It is by the brow of one's sweat One could paint The future with A rosy pink, Don't you think? Sitting idle, Dreaming a rose-bed Is quite absurd!' Reversing such mind set Go for targets set!
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78
i know it today, life is a short stay, amidst all wants and desires, of which one never retires, desires for self and self ones, greed together of million tonnes, such things though many times, force me to think of crimes, betraying someone's trust, for things less worthier than dust, seeing death every other day, still thinking we are here to stay, for and ever till, our pocket affords the bill, but no thought is given, wether we go to hell or heaven, our debts money won't pay, karmas will be counted for each day, during our life's course, when we did things with force, which was given temporarily to us, to display whoz god and what he does, acts of humans should be such, giving an estimate of how much, greatness would be in the one, who owes such a nice son, who loves him and all, whoz values are infinitely tall, whoz presence inaugrates all ethical energies, whoz work is beyond all intelligent strategies, who realises god's omnipresence, and make him his life's essence, remember all my dear friends, when all of our life ends, our powers won't accompany us, as in life's course it does, what goes with thw soul then, is all of those times when, we have made someone smile, and loved some other for a little while, laughed in someone's good times, cried in other time of destiny's sad rhyme. I know it today..........................
0
Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 4:20 PM UTC
lalitmakker
I Know it Today
i know it today, life is a short stay, amidst all wants and desires, of which one never retires, desires for self and self ones, greed together of million tonnes, such things though many times, force me to think of crimes, betraying someone's trust, for things less worthier than dust, seeing death every other day, still thinking we are here to stay, for and ever till, our pocket affords the bill, but no thought is given, wether we go to hell or heaven, our debts money won't pay, karmas will be counted for each day, during our life's course, when we did things with force, which was given temporarily to us, to display whoz god and what he does, acts of humans should be such, giving an estimate of how much, greatness would be in the one, who owes such a nice son, who loves him and all, whoz values are infinitely tall, whoz presence inaugrates all ethical energies, whoz work is beyond all intelligent strategies, who realises god's omnipresence, and make him his life's essence, remember all my dear friends, when all of our life ends, our powers won't accompany us, as in life's course it does, what goes with thw soul then, is all of those times when, we have made someone smile, and loved some other for a little while, laughed in someone's good times, cried in other time of destiny's sad rhyme. I know it today..........................
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43
America **** your McDonald's drive-thrus **** your ninety-nine cent ******** hamburger, taco, pizza, salad, milkshake, hotdog, cheese, chicken and ice cream. **** your ever-penetrating, all-enveloping television stare -looking into every home and obscenely tucking children into bed with your poisonous, dangerous nonsense **** your deadly highways and metal death machines **** your educational system which affords no opportunity and disgraces the intelligent by basing self-worth on imaginary symbols **** your restriction of information and for appointing one man to represent anybody but himself **** you for breeding such similar beings **** your twisted hatred of change & for arresting children while cadavers dry-hump the so-called american dream **** you for losing your own soul & destroying us daily **** you for putting faces on beauty and giving such loud voices to hypnotic fantasy **** your favorite sons and daughters **** you for the wars which can never be won **** you for advertising Jack Daniels on the freeway **** you for a pack of cigarettes - seven dollars and fifty cents **** you for making my **** hard **** you for not looking at the stars every night **** you because I am poisoned by paper **** you for the starvation of spirit & pills handed out to numb the broken minds you've made & the shattered ones you avoid **** you for the homeless prophets **** your speech decree & for rubbing freedom in the faces of the dying **** your holy stars & stripes **** your hushed genocide and & torture **** your phantom masses and empty religions **** you for providing no wholesome evenings in my rotten town **** your signposts and support beams You are but a word
0
Jan 26, 2011
Jan 26, 2011 at 11:36 AM UTC
jmartinez
On America (an explicit outrage regarding angst and the death of being)
America **** your McDonald's drive-thrus **** your ninety-nine cent ******** hamburger, taco, pizza, salad, milkshake, hotdog, cheese, chicken and ice cream. **** your ever-penetrating, all-enveloping television stare -looking into every home and obscenely tucking children into bed with your poisonous, dangerous nonsense **** your deadly highways and metal death machines **** your educational system which affords no opportunity and disgraces the intelligent by basing self-worth on imaginary symbols **** your restriction of information and for appointing one man to represent anybody but himself **** you for breeding such similar beings **** your twisted hatred of change & for arresting children while cadavers dry-hump the so-called american dream **** you for losing your own soul & destroying us daily **** you for putting faces on beauty and giving such loud voices to hypnotic fantasy **** your favorite sons and daughters **** you for the wars which can never be won **** you for advertising Jack Daniels on the freeway **** you for a pack of cigarettes - seven dollars and fifty cents **** you for making my **** hard **** you for not looking at the stars every night **** you because I am poisoned by paper **** you for the starvation of spirit & pills handed out to numb the broken minds you've made & the shattered ones you avoid **** you for the homeless prophets **** your speech decree & for rubbing freedom in the faces of the dying **** your holy stars & stripes **** your hushed genocide and & torture **** your phantom masses and empty religions **** you for providing no wholesome evenings in my rotten town **** your signposts and support beams You are but a word
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28
105 To hang our head—ostensibly— And subsequent, to find That such was not the posture Of our immortal mind— Affords the sly presumption That in so dense a fuzz— You—too—take Cobweb attitudes Upon a plane of Gauze!
0
1.4k
Emily Dickinson
To hang our head—ostensibly
105 To hang our head—ostensibly— And subsequent, to find That such was not the posture Of our immortal mind— Affords the sly presumption That in so dense a fuzz— You—too—take Cobweb attitudes Upon a plane of Gauze!
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9
My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still, While comments of your praise, richly compiled, Reserve their character with golden quill, And precious phrase by all the Muses filed. I think good thoughts, whilst other write good words, And like unlettered clerk still cry “Amen” To every hymn that able spirit affords In polished form of well-refinèd pen. Hearing you praised, I say “’Tis so, ’tis true,” And to the most of praise add something more; But that is in my thought, whose love to you, Though words come hindmost, holds his rank before. Then others for the breath of words respect, Me for my dumb thoughts, speaking in effect.
0
1.4k
William Shakespeare
Sonnet 085: My Tongue-Tied Muse In Manners Holds Her Still
My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still, While comments of your praise, richly compiled, Reserve their character with golden quill, And precious phrase by all the Muses filed. I think good thoughts, whilst other write good words, And like unlettered clerk still cry “Amen” To every hymn that able spirit affords In polished form of well-refinèd pen. Hearing you praised, I say “’Tis so, ’tis true,” And to the most of praise add something more; But that is in my thought, whose love to you, Though words come hindmost, holds his rank before. Then others for the breath of words respect, Me for my dumb thoughts, speaking in effect.
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14