"ail" poems
Eternal flame burning bright for me,
A beacon of hope across life’s great sea,
A symbol of faith for wandering ways,
A guiding light for darker days.
The symbol of life that burns so quick,
That tall proud candle, with unspent wick,
My life it holds within its flame,
Either good or bad, it burns the same.
As life grows long, the candle grows short,
For a life lived carefree, or one of thought,
The candle cares not one jot,
It lives to burn, that is its lot.
Through time the candle grows so frail,
Just like myself, through time I’ll ail,
And just like I, oxygen gives it life,
To cope with all our daily strife.
Our time on earth, is fleeting, brief,
If time is tree, then I am leaf,
My faith proclaims life’s heaven sent,
But ends when my candles wick is spent.
All I ask from the life I live,
Is people appreciate all I give,
I care not for fame, nor even wealth,
Life is good if there is health.
I have the greatest gift of all,
I have my children, I love them all,
The gift I’ll leave hides in my words,
To me as melodic as the song of birds.
My candle of life continues to burn,
I have so much I've still to learn,
Until the day I give that final choke,
And my candle itself shows only smoke.
When time has passed, please don’t be sad,
Think of me with memories glad,
My candles flame, extinguished, gone,
Deep in your hearts, will still burn on.
© Cinco Espiritus Creation
2012
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 6:21 AM UTC
•i
was
once
whole
•full and
complete•
grand desi-
gns adorned
upon my very
soul•always...
would land on
my feet•my wo-
rds now partially
broken•resembli-
ng that of an ail-
ing crescent• i...
am still here, i...
watch and i lis-
ten• scouring
for mediocre
remnants
that still
remain
abs
en
t•
.
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 10:25 AM UTC
Easily Tux
Laxity Use
Laxity Sue
Taxis Yule
Taxi Yules
Tau Sexily
Axe I *****
Yea Xi ****
Yea Xi Lust
Aye Xi ****
Aye Xi Lust
Ail Yes Tux
Sail Ye Tux
Ails Ye Tux
Italy Ex Us
Laity Ex Us
Taxi Lye Us
La Suety Xi
Talus Ye Xi
Lax Yeti Us
Lax Suety I
Lax Ye Suit
Lay Exit Us
Lay Suet Xi
Lay Tuxes I
Lay Ex Suit
Sat Yule Xi
Taus Lye Xi
Sax Yule Ti
Sax Yule It
Say Lie Tux
Say Lei Tux
Say Lute Xi
Say Exult I
At Yules Xi
At Yule Xis
At Yule Six
Tau Lyes Xi
Tau Lye Xis
Tau Lye Six
Tax Yules I
Tax Yule Is
Ax Lieu Sty
Ax Yules Ti
Ax Yules It
Ax Yule Tis
Ax Yule Its
Ax Yule Sit
Ax Lye Suit
Ya Isle Tux
Ya Lies Tux
Ya Leis Tux
Ya Lutes Xi
Ya Exults I
Ya Lute Xis
Ya Lute Six
Ya Exult Is
Ay Isle Tux
Ay Lies Tux
Ay Leis Tux
Ay Lutes Xi
Ay Exults I
Ay Lute Xis
Ay Lute Six
Ay Exult Is
A Lyes I Tux
A Lye Is Tux
A Ex I *****
A Ye Xi ****
A Ye Xi Lust
La Yes I Tux
La Yet Xi Us
La Ye Is Tux
Las Ye I Tux
Lax Yet I Us
Lax Ye Ti Us
Lax Ye It Us
Lay Ex Ti Us
Lay Ex It Us
As Lye I Tux
Say El I Tux
At Lye Xi Us
Tau Ex I Sly
Tax Lye I Us
Ax Lye Ti Us
Ax Lye It Us
Ax Ye I ****
Ax Ye I Lust
Ax Ye Lit Us
Ya El Is Tux
Ya Let Xi Us
Ya Ex I ****
Ya Ex I Lust
Ya Ex Lit Us
Ay El Is Tux
Ay Let Xi Us
Ay Ex I ****
Ay Ex I Lust
Ay Ex Lit Us
Oct 25, 2015
Oct 25, 2015 at 12:38 PM UTC
Patterned dots, existence connects
An anther to a stigma, reproduction
The pollen withers, pollution subsides
Colonies of bees vanish in the wind
Toxic genetic food wins in binge
Mother earth cries in pain, an ail
Food chains and supplies cut short
Globalised mass production of poison
Supermarkets stocking “all season”
Consumerism monopolies swell
The environment abused and misused
Plastic bottles displaced, a chemical sludge
The haunted “great pacific garbage patch”
Littered garbage, debris and chemical sludge
Humanity displaced, dissociated and divided
Ruining sea waters , floating landfill fueled
Probability of heightened population
Global panics, mimicked maniacs
Reductions of resources to feed all
Unsustainable long windy farms
Big roads, buried bills, stingy reality
Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 6:43 PM UTC
YOUR SMILE
the ail is shy of
your smile,
it cried for winds' help
to escape the lightening storms
ushered by the wrath of
your smile
and you move free in here
to bring delight from there
singing in divine words
to comfort souls in highs
buried in, blanket of stress.
i raised up my mind
to see the bright sun
graced by you fit physique
honored by your sparkling coat
then
a cool breeze
to ice the warming hearts
with
your smile!
Oct 5, 2016
Oct 5, 2016 at 3:44 AM UTC
flat at
flake lake
flame lame
flamenco cool
flamingo goof
flapped lapped
flayed layed
flavor vortex
flannel electricity
flag lag
flash lash
flaxen axen
flab lab
flail ail
flattering ring
flaw law
flair air
Mar 16, 2014
Mar 16, 2014 at 11:40 AM UTC
A rich man's son inherits want
with no desire to work hands bare
Gives the job to another man
to look out from his easy chair
A poor man's son inherits grace
born of toil and sweat of his brow
He adjudged of hard earned merit
pushes on what body will allow
The rich man's son inherits greed
with what malice it may entail
Thinking others beneath his station
for lack of character he does ail
The poor man's son inherits kindness
which with all others level stands
Then asks the outcast bless his door
to share the fruit of his two hands
Heir to what is the rich man's son
tender flesh that fears the cold
To the poor never gives his time
nor dare he wear a garment old
Inheriting, it seems to me
what no good man would wish to be
Heir to what is the poor man's son
strong muscles and pounding heart
Chipped of a marble character
beloved by all he touched in part
Inheriting, it seems to me
what all good men would wish to be
Tate
This is one of three poems I have converted to a new all video format well worth the look at what I feel is the future of our art.
Original all video version
http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/aristate/1355765/
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 12:24 AM UTC
Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight,
Alone and palely loitering;
The sedge is wither'd from the lake,
And no birds sing.
Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight,
So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel's granary is full,
And the harvest's done.
I see a lily on thy brow,
With anguish moist and fever dew;
And on thy cheek a fading rose
Fast withereth too.
I met a lady in the meads
Full beautiful, a faery's child;
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.
I set her on my pacing steed,
And nothing else saw all day long;
For sideways would she lean, and sing
A faery's song.
I made a garland for her head,
And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She look'd at me as she did love,
And made sweet moan.
She found me roots of relish sweet,
And honey wild, and manna dew;
And sure in language strange she said,
I love thee true.
She took me to her elfin grot,
And there she gaz'd and sighed deep,
And there I shut her wild sad eyes--
So kiss'd to sleep.
And there we slumber'd on the moss,
And there I dream'd, ah woe betide,
The latest dream I ever dream'd
On the cold hill side.
I saw pale kings, and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
Who cry'd--"La belle Dame sans merci
Hath thee in thrall!"
I saw their starv'd lips in the gloam
With horrid warning gaped wide,
And I awoke, and found me here
On the cold hill side.
And this is why I sojourn here
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is wither'd from the lake,
And no birds sing.
3.1k
There will be rose and rhododendron
When you are dead and under ground;
Still will be heard from white syringas
Heavy with bees, a sunny sound;
Still will the tamaracks be raining
After the rain has ceased, and still
Will there be robins in the stubble,
Brown sheep upon the warm green hill.
Spring will not ail nor autumn falter;
Nothing will know that you are gone,
Saving alone some sullen plough-land
None but yourself sets foot upon;
Saving the may-weed and the pig-weed
Nothing will know that you are dead,—
These, and perhaps a useless wagon
Standing beside some tumbled shed.
Oh, there will pass with your great passing
Little of beauty not your own,—
Only the light from common water,
Only the grace from simple stone!
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Firefly a glowing light in the dark
Embodied in the ray of the rainbow
I see your radiance striking beauty
A shadow succulently saccharine
My tears flows to shed your pain and sorrow
Fear hints and hears, questions of why arises
Who bore them, those with haunted hate?
Do they ail with a sore inside their souls?
For they carry a cargo, loaded with misery
Swim afloat, for they love to see you sunk
Smile along, for their ties want you sad
Love along, for they will drown in hate
Come to life firefly, glow in the dark grow
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 7:18 PM UTC
When reeds are dead and a straw to thatch the marshes,
And feathered pampas-grass rides into the wind
Like aged warriors westward, tragic, thinned
Of half their tribe, and over the flattened rushes,
Stripped of its secret, open, stark and bleak,
Blackens afar the half-forgotten creek,—
Then leans on me the weight of the year, and crushes
My heart. I know that Beauty must ail and die,
And will be born again,—but ah, to see
Beauty stiffened, staring up at the sky!
Oh, Autumn! Autumn!—What is the Spring to me?
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I don't know where, if it will end.
Refuse to voice or recommend.
To treat what ails us is pretend.
Slips through fingers apprehend.
To help more than to hurt,
reflexive sunny disposition
which can cradle sallow sleeping stoic pride.
Distinguishing the dirt,
collective run beside conviction;
acting ladle heavy, heaping, terrified.
Leave things better than you found them
Received our debtors stand; surround them.
I wonder if to soothe what ail,
under apprehension prevail.
Therein lies each us, our grail -
our demons sinking in each nail.
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 10:20 PM UTC
Abigail is words, whispered in the dead of night
Abigail is pearls, so meticulously shined
Abigail is wind, personal yet public
Abigail is din, a beautiful ruckus
Bigail is books, every breath is a story
Bigail is gems, rich in her glory
Bigail is breeze, a soothing chill
Bigail is ease, with a bit of thrill
Igail is water, playful but cold
Igail is stormy, brewing and bold
Igail is calm, willing to wait
Igail is balm, soothing this place
Gail is half, fading quickly
Gail is worn, fragile and sickly
Gail is Earth, loving and warm
Gail is mirth, behind her thorns
Ail is sweet, and yet so sour
Ail is blood, of the hearts she devours
Ail is tears, as she turns to leave
Ail is fears, that she can't retrieve
Il is less, than sweet Abigail
Il is more, for she left a trail
Il is mad, raving lunatic
Il is bad, coughing and sick
L is tired, ready to go
L is crying, way down below
L is left, hanging by a thread
L is befret, the words she said
* * is nothing
There's nothing left of Abigail
No words left to whisper
Gone without a trail.
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 8:50 PM UTC
Truth? a lewd's you
in known certain terms:
whether veins, when drowned
hawks a gin (loomin’)
a shin splinters as
mines bore on; why ‘ol
car bonfires grow tired
of a pack o’ lips’ wisp ring,
*“Hydra Djinn—
Sine diem purgare nox.”*
Redeem and weep
in tents, faces & phrases
met a fizz[i call]y
drunk in jest id bouts
wrested liver's tried & tested [buy con-
testant after contest-
ant] where West lids gaze
in two, the joy of the flame
hungry's gasping for air
[nothing's becoming] bright
berthed of ash-end tombs
lit up in the night.
Jan 6, 2012
Jan 6, 2012 at 11:40 PM UTC
She is preserved at the greenery
fading inside the floating yellows
her mellow as the sun set strikes
face wondering on the future mirror
She longs to encase inside her cocoon
unhurt the pain pierced in her ribcage
the spent morrow of blunt perceptions
wavering the chronic deserted day
She is alone in a world of within
without the touch of the yester clouds
the tremor of her upset is unreliable
watering the chronic ail she donned
She feels the crystal pain on the dial
rails of entrust and forgotten tense
the troubles of the self sacrifice travellers
*trespassing ***** gates of wired shield*
She knows when her well is overfilled
finding a self that can embrace life
the compromised placid meanders
flowing the alive esse of a today
She moans of eons undignified
trying to excavate her sinking soul
the one that made her feel like she
revealing the reality of her unusual peace
She jumps like a seasonal seesaw
illusions parading the absolute truce
a muse of delicate authentic flavours
transversing the idealised time and space
She knows herself best when isolated
when the moon sinks and the night draw
when vagaries explode in the chaotic skies
when the pearl starry sun stares in her iris
Jul 25, 2016
Jul 25, 2016 at 4:22 PM UTC
Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle,
Earth and high heaven are fixt of old and founded strong.
Think rather,-- call to thought, if now you grieve a little,
The days when we had rest, O soul, for they were long.
Men loved unkindness then, but lightless in the quarry
I slept and saw not; tears fell down, I did not mourn;
Sweat ran and blood sprang out and I was never sorry:
Then it was well with me, in days ere I was born.
Now, and I muse for why and never find the reason,
I pace the earth, and drink the air, and feel the sun.
Be still, be still, my soul; it is but for a season:
Let us endure an hour and see injustice done.
Ay, look: high heaven and earth ail from the prime foundation;
All thoughts to rive the heart are here, and all are vain:
Horror and scorn and hate and fear and indignation--
Oh why did I awake? when shall I sleep again?
1.6k
It seeped through my bones,
Made me a sputtering heart,
Lo this numbness,
See it in my eyes,
Touch me now!
Feel it inside,
This burning, white-hot cold.
I know you mean to tell me different,
That I may be over-reacting,
Over-imag'ning.
Thou skin has gone deaf to my calls,
Dead.
But tell me,
Lest thou eyes deceive you,
Do you not see mine own pallid skin?
See this now!
Dare not to tell me different,
Never mind, hold your tongue!
Thou face has already given away thou intentions.
Fix me dear therapevtees,
Take away this old lady's ailments,
Do not ail me.
Give me the Nepenthe,
Help me chase away my sorrows.
***** could be good,
Do you think?
I'll take anything you have,
Black Henbane, even Psilocybin.
Mend me please,
Stop this cold,
Make my days less dreadful.
It won't be long now.
Let this old lady go to death grinning,
However stupid it may seem.
I shall laugh in the face of death,
This old, sagging face shall laugh,
Just me and death,
Very old friends.
-Firefly
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 2:52 PM UTC
Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle,
Earth and high heaven are fixt of old and founded strong.
Think rather,--call to thought, if now you grieve a little,
The days when we had rest, O soul, for they were long.
Men loved unkindness then, but lightless in the quarry
I slept and saw not; tears fell down, I did not mourn;
Sweat ran and blood sprang out and I was never sorry:
Then it was well with me, in days ere I was born.
Now, and I muse for why and never find the reason,
I pace the earth, and drink the air, and feel the sun.
Be still, be still, my soul; it is but for a season:
Let us endure an hour and see injustice done.
Ay, look: high heaven and earth ail from the prime foundation;
All thoughts to rive the heart are here, and all are vain:
Horror and scorn and hate and fear and indignation--
Oh why did I awake? when shall I sleep again?
1.5k
let silence settle by my side today
else i'd again be driven
into the echo of her thoughts
into the unfinished talks
into the incomplete memories
into her interim proximity
i summoned her as she left
but it went unheard
renegades often turn deaf
let silence settle by my side today
else i'd again be driven
into the echo of her thoughts
i'd claim it elusive mischance
i'd profess on empty hope
i'd even bridle my despair
'one can ail to no avail,
nor tears'll bring respite!'
these were her last words FOR me
let silence settle by my side today
else i'd again be driven
into the echo of her thoughts
Oct 8, 2012
Oct 8, 2012 at 12:45 PM UTC
so many orders of which none matter
in this harsh place where all words come to fail
in giddy smoke and stinking horses' stale
it seems that all our urges need to shatter
because we have not found the proper scale
so many orders of which none matter
but many fools who do not cease to flatter
yet will not stoop to help us when we ail
nor build a roof to shelter from the hail
so many orders of which none matter
Feb 20, 2012
Feb 20, 2012 at 10:58 AM UTC
Red ants
of unsettled feuds
ail in my cerebrum
and spinal cord…
dear friend,
give me the medicine
of poetry,
let get my blood cold…
Spread the sedative
of poem
before taking me the knife.
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 3:49 AM UTC
A friend under the strict moonlight
The sunken lifetime street light
A tape from door steps always taps
The unheard voice of allied laps
A friend above the raised song
Whose eyes can lay in low savannahs
A conversational flow of escape traps
Words unspoken, reserved, immersed
My friend on the haunted cell phone
Whose hammock of reclusion tents
Pegs of condition,bungees of freedom
A sacrificial religious preconditions ail
My friend, a reflection of a world another
Take this winter coat I shunned
One that wakes by the sunset
As it shows me not to be afraid of the world
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 6:13 PM UTC
The sunset was tainted
In it's orange glowly faint
as skies billowy loaded
clouded with chemtrails
the balium and aluminium
fed as streaks of ******
as strontium is ingested
Injected in our soils
as our oils turn sour
to drool our brains
of thought and ambition
Projected to our souls
as we ache and ail
in trials and fails
that drill our veins
with fraught and draught
as skies billowy loaded
In it's crescent lowly paint
The moon was sainted
Jan 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017 at 4:15 PM UTC