"assists" poems
One puts all nature into mourning,
One lights her like a flaring sun —
What whispers ‘Burial’ to the one
Cries to the other, ‘Life and Morning.’
The unknown Hermes who assists
The role of Midas to reverse,
And makes me by a subtle curse
The saddest of all alchemists —
By him, my paradise to hell,
And gold to **** is changed too well.
The clouds are winding-sheets, and I,
uncover corpses loved of old;
and where the shores celestial die
I carve vast tombs against the sky.
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 6:13 AM UTC
1049
Pain has but one Acquaintance
And that is Death—
Each one unto the other
Society enough.
Pain is the Junior Party
By just a Second’s right—
Death tenderly assists Him
And then absconds from Sight.
4.2k
1747
The parasol is the umbrella’s daughter,
And associates with a fan
While her father abuts the tempest
And abridges the rain.
The former assists a siren
In her serene display;
But her father is borne and honored,
And borrowed to this day.
3.2k
It's a confusing puzzle,
But still holds true:
You can't live with me;
I can't live without you.
Life is but a journey,
I chose to go through with you;
But now that you won't have me,
It's hard for me to continue.
Fate is a bitter cruel harpy,
With her sisters she conspires
For the death of my Love,
As your Love for me transpires!
Hope is a painful therapy,
It burns while nursing Time's stabs;
But the scars strengthen Experience,
As it assists to keep Reason's tabs.
Love and Reason are antithesis,
That can't co-exist;
But their affinity is such
That to be together they persist.
Perfection in Love is when
There is room for Reason;
But when Reason and Logic court,
Love calls it Treason!
Love is unfair and immature,
And still as pure as a dove;
But there's no use of Reason,
With the death of Love.
This poem is an analogy:
Which in life stands true;
It's no use of me loving you,
If there's no hope for you to love me too.
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 1:00 AM UTC
859
A doubt if it be Us
Assists the staggering Mind
In an extremer Anguish
Until it footing find.
An Unreality is lent,
A merciful Mirage
That makes the living possible
While it suspends the lives.
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Tears falling like timber,
Years and years in the past
And right now she has to remember?
This isn’t fair,
Who ever said life was?
And she deserves this because?
With eyes of sapphire,
A pure heart of gold,
She buried down deep,
A story never told.
Stuck in a dream,
A mist settled on the scene,
Shoes walking on the sidewalk,
It was around two o’clock.
The streets entirely bare,
There’s no time to spare.
She knew what she had to do
Many webs of lies askew.
Fear grabbing at her wrists,
Time and time she’s cried
But no one comes and assists.
This isn’t fair,
He didn’t intend it to be,
But theres no magic key.
With little trust and no faith
He took what he wanted,
As in a routine, she promised.
Surely, forever haunted.
Awoken suddenly by a nudge,
Time to cover up the smudge.
walk downstairs and there you’ll meet
a man full of deceit.
Sep 12, 2013
Sep 12, 2013 at 9:47 AM UTC
Yes, we have been discharged from The Law,
but we’re not freed from our responsibility;
as Children of Almighty God, we acknowledge
the duties of our spiritual accountability.
We’re to be obedient to the Spirit’s prompts
and not blindly to a codicil of written rules;
the framework of Godly principles assists us,
when circumstances of Life suddenly turn cruel.
The underlying difference is when perspective
changes from a slave to one of His servants;
with a proper mindset and divine viewpoint,
we become… the embodiment of His new covenant.
Are we just disregarding the old regulations
or are we redefining them by Love’s Salvation?
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Author Notes
Inspired by:
Rom 7:6
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2015, All rights reserved.
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 5:01 PM UTC
Cool as the Breeze of Allah Under the Hot Desert Sun
_________________________________________
Let it flow hashem
as i venture
to our sacred mosque
to give thanks to you
lord for preserving
reminding the Jew
who god is:
As we look about
seeing them at the wailing wall
further reminded.
Shed a tear
for us
Evangelical
your re-written christ
assists us
in rebuilding.
© S. Wesley Mcgranor
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 9:25 PM UTC
My soul craves world peace.
Where us vs them will cease to exist.
We all have a heart that loves and assists.
But that's not enough they demand more than this.
Banned from the land.
Banned from the bliss.
Will this greed ever be dismissed?
Kneel to the system run on conflict of interest.
That makes you depend, look outside take a glimpse.
Understand all was planned.
Sleight of hand and they took control of motherland.
Birds, raised and caged by misconceptions.
Domesticated under their wings with things we're supposed to do.
Force fed beliefs, here you go this is true.
And the government grew.
Conditioned by the cards you drew.
Game of theories made to modify you.
Now, who are you?
With a pencil, they drew a mask on you.
We miss the point.
We don't know intentions.
We yearn for acceptance.
We follow without question.
New age with a prescribed perception.
But these are your lenses.
I won't be caged.
I won't be a bird in.
I hope you to spread your wings and start unlearning.
Now you can fly and won't be a servant.
Sep 18, 2017
Sep 18, 2017 at 7:00 PM UTC
We pour out our hearts in our work
We ask for corective critic
Not a boastful ****
We give so much information
about who we are
Sometimes the subjects are
too sensitive by far
The writer may have
a hard time being objective
yet we want the reader to be subjected
Can you see through
the poet Eyes
the reason for the vivid
imagery wise
I benefit from knowing
your age
it assists
my thought proces,
as a gauge
Every ten years
a person changes 100%
Birth to ten, it is easy to see
Ten to twenty,
the mindset invincibility
I am six years
into my fifth life
lived, loved,
am a mother and wife,
happiness, anger, and Strife
The more we know
about the poet
Helps us understands
the poem as we know it
As we get older
we realize
how little we know
understanding
there's so much more
room to grow
So please fill out your bio age
and all the information you want to share
so we can review your poem with competent care
Oct 15, 2017
Oct 15, 2017 at 4:42 AM UTC
*We live now
In visual times
Our helpers are
Those graphic aids:
Top to bottom
Right to left
In to out..
Part in whole
Whole in part
Holograph assists
Wholeness found..
Symmetry here
Alerts to show
Symmetry there..
These and more
Simple translations
Inner Eye wakens..
So that now
Deception removed
Our world renews
Its hidden beauty
Dis-clothed…*
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 8:14 PM UTC
we **** our creative forces
ancient cultures believed
that creativity
was a divine entity
which assists certain people
from a far
so basically we **** God
every time a teacher
tells a child
that his or her talent
is worthless
that their passions
are futile
every struggling soul
who prostitutes their mentality
for another escape route,
pills which regulate
alcohol which regulates
coffee which regulates
drugs which regulate
and a regulation nine to five,
which regulates...
**** regulation
Feb 24, 2013
Feb 24, 2013 at 1:14 PM UTC
It is in Septembers, Octobers, and Novembers
That Autumn dresses up,
Adorned in warm, golden tones of color,
And waltzes with her prince, The Fall Wind.
But when the clock strikes twelve,
Winter comes along with her December and January Winds,
Snatching up Autumn’s bright apparel
And clothing her in nothing but somber tatters.
Autumn keeps quiet, until the first rays
Of Spring’s long awaited sunshine
Touches the depths of Winter’s dark dungeon.
Autumn is showered with Spring’s rain,
And is coaxed into fashioning a new dress
With the same warm, golden tones of color,
But, this time, in a different pattern.
It is Summer’s sunshine, now, that assists Autumn,
With an occasional July thunderstorm to help form the new dress.
August passes by to give his opinion, and Autumn is finally ready.
For it is in Septembers, Octobers, and Novembers
That Autumn dresses up,
Adorned in warm, golden tones of color,
to waltz with her prince, The Fall Wind.
Sep 27, 2016
Sep 27, 2016 at 10:53 PM UTC
Sometimes it seems to me that your ultimate goal is to see me broken.
You sit in your chair and twiddle my hearts strings between your fingers.
You strum my chords until the melody becomes too similar to your own.
Then you knot each of my hearts strings up individually,
Leaving me strung.
Only so you can start all over.
You learn me just to forget me.
Lead me just to leave me.
I'm a game that you love to play.
But only when you haven't smiled a genuine smile for a while.
I make you happy and nervous at the same time.
Cause everyone knows that a sweet hello births the most bitter goodbye.
So when it feels too real, it's too easy for you to run.
In the meantime you just walk the line.
You reside on the equator of my past and future.
And my resistance only assists your thrive.
You are the factor which brings life to my smile.
You are the crease in between my cheek and the corner of my mouth.
Every breathe I take while with you amplifies my high.
I hate you, but I love how you make me feel.
But only sometimes.
You are a wound that will never heal completely.
Marking me imperfectly beautiful. You are my creative collaborator.
Forever infected by your loves venom.
Therefore I bleed thee.
But, we don't relate anymore.
Our pitters don't patter on beat anymore.
Our paths don't meet anymore.
It seems like your hearts not even in reach anymore.
I figure to leave is the only way to settle the score.
But you've packed my bags and you opended the door.
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 6:21 AM UTC
Gloomy weather effects people
more than
sunshine-y weather,
maybe because rain drops
hit the ground harder
than sun rays do.
The ground being our
literal separation from
hell,
it is a fragile barrier that assists
in carrying me to you,
and with the ground soaking wet from
a naturally reoccurring water cycle,
I am bound to slip.
It will take me longer
to reach you and your smile,
warm like those bright days
the human race is
so fond of,
and because of this--
because of the extended
length of time it takes
for lovers to reach sunny,
entangled, tender future-memories,
people are wary of
Mother Nature's bad moods.
Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 9:48 PM UTC
Bobby,
I miss you man. You got your wings to fly to infinity,
Rather than have your feet roam this land. A few days before you passed, I saw you sitting with a smile in my dreams. That still frame I now hold onto, and it assists in keeping me at ease. Few saw the connections in your head rewiring. It's still hard to imagine your body retiring. Though your pistons are no longer firing, your soul yet flows. Energy can never be destroyed, and so it goes, always in motion. Had we had the clairvoyance to see the outcome, I'd liketo think we would run to you with the potion. Sometimes it's hard to see beyond the confines of self. These sobering moments make us realize we are always able to offer help. ****** buried under the skin now effects the nerves of us all. You were bigger than your body, and now we know that no impact is too small. I heard you saved a life, just before you lost yours. Reminding us to spread our light, forever on this course. As action put perspective into hypothetical contemplation, I wonder if there would still be the funeral if we had one more conversation. Inadvertently, you brought so many together. There we stood with heads bowed down under the rain in a gloomy Tuesday's weather. The images inside were thought-provoking. But at a loss, many of us stood outside smoking. Holding onto a little glimpse of forever, seeing your body at rest to which you were no longer tethered. You are remembered, and we thank you for the memories. You shared all you were given, life's simple pleasantries. Like I envisioned, I wished I would have spoken at your service. Lingering on your siblings' words, maybe I got nervous. Where most see a dead-end, eye like to see a new life with purpose. So I take a deep breath from my chest and offer blessings to your fresh start. Just know all of us are honored to be a part of your journey, which is eternally embedded in our hearts~
Thank you Bobby,
Talk to you later.
Much love
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 9:27 PM UTC
the trees
the trees
what ever happened
to the trees
once our scenery
had acres and acres
of trees
but over the years
we've purged
far too many trees
yet the trees are so vital
in the natural world's ecology
for their leaves perspiring assists
the rain cycle's hydrology
we've not replaced
the trees we've taken down
hence why we've now few of them
in our environment's crown
and our countryside
suffers prolonged dry spells
the trees were such
precious fillers of rives and wells
the trees
the trees
what ever happened
to the trees
once our scenery
had acres and acres
of trees
but over the years
we've purged
far too many trees
Oct 6, 2019
Oct 6, 2019 at 9:26 PM UTC
Seems we can unintentionally hurt the people that matter the most just by simply trying to enjoy life.
Confusion envelops my pleasures, what is Joy if not shared with someone cherished but yet to lie them under the knife?
The distance between us seems unconquerable as time trots backward and I agonize on shores clutching my chest where you once laid.
Irrational optimism assists my pain as the Aegean flows as a sea of regret from my eyes & I dive into my tears hoping to once again hold my mermaid.
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 10:35 AM UTC
Give me your etchy sketch
I'll shake it all about
So your future is dim
Plain and pure
Promises should be held with high regard
No resistance at all
Passive stretching assists
In the clouds
The art is written
Like a molded craft
Sitting desolate by the fountain
And the trees
I'm hope bound
Tied up in transition
Raising arms up with
Slippery doubt
Gripping the wheel
There must be control
Losing it
Will break all molds
The hours of ease
And testy talent
Will be all for naught
Oct 20, 2011
Oct 20, 2011 at 10:20 PM UTC
Death is all powerful and as old as God.
He can destroy whats around him, he can even reap a dog.
If you see him you will soon perish.
Therefore life must you Cherish.
He can **** anything: Gods, Angels, Demons and Reapers.
This is no ordinary killer this is the Grim Reaper.
He assists in maintaining the natural order.
His Reapers are nothing but a Boarder.
He has a scythe, and a sharp sickle that he carries around with him.
He can **** to relieve, out of pity or out of whim.
He delivers souls to their final destination.
(When he sees a being suffering)
All he thinks about is his Termination.
Anything the Reaper touches, dies.
You cannot outsmart him, try not to be wise.
The Grim Reaper is one of the four Horsemen, he rides a pale horse.
If you see him coming, he will have no remorse.
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 10:06 AM UTC
New life takes root in ashes of the old
and older soil assists all life in their survival,
the soil having seen generations birth and
thrive then die
only to return as aid to the soil's assistance
as it has and always will endure.
Life will wither past its fleur
but soil remains forever more
holding space for life.
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 1:29 AM UTC
A true friend is one who sticks to you through thick or thin unconditionally. Someone you can always bank upon even in the times of adversities. They are often your best critics just for the sake of your own betterment. They don’t mind being right in your face and telling you where are you actually going wrong. In the words of Francois de La Rochefoucauld, “A true friend is the greatest of all blessings, and that which we take the least care of all to acquire.” A true friend loves you for what you are and not what you ought to be. A true friend should always be cherished. A true friend knows you in and out and is always there to back you even while you are up against the odds. According to William Penn, “A true friend freely, advises justly, assists readily, adventures boldly, takes all patiently, defends courageously, and continues a friend unchangeably.”
Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 7:36 AM UTC
In the debate between dubbing and subbing
I side with subs to savor the original
mellifluous French, Tamil, Korean, Italian...
Reading the subtitles assists the deaf
and hard of hearing although voiceovers
benefit the blind and vision impaired.
Historically dubbing was employed
by fascist governments to advance
the nationalist agenda. In our own time
the tendency to consider dubbers dumb
implies reading’s the indispensable skill.
My wife reads her mail while watching movies
so she prefers dubs. I admire her mastery
of two idioms simultaneously
but my limited bandwidth favors subs.
Jun 5, 2025
Jun 5, 2025 at 6:57 AM UTC
I never grew tall enough to
confidently grasp the top shelf
cereal box on the first try.
Fumbling, I’d finger its corners—
swiping mercilessly at its edges
until I could feel it fill
the curves of my desperate palm.
It gives in. Gravity assists.
Heels hit the floor.
I won again.
Back then, Persistence was my
favorite professor who always
curved the final.
I never grew mindful enough to
confidently grasp when
I should end the chase.
Writhing, I want and want—
curating the parts of myself
I think he’d like the most, but
he never turns on the light.
I collect dust. The hour hand assists.
Heels hit the floor.
I have this lesson on repeat,
and the stop button is broken.
These days, Hope has become my
favorite form of punishment
who expertly disguises herself
as wisdom.
Sep 8, 2025
Sep 8, 2025 at 11:49 PM UTC
We drink in the darkness
until our poor necks
slinky down our chests
then hit the quartz floor.
We reach for the door only to have
the caves mouth swallows us back in...
dragon teeth stained with fresh skin
shone through moon lit cracks
of a boulder blocked exit.
My girl gripped my hand
as we pondered our next plan
there's no time for a nest egg
oxygen running out in a dead sprint
no phone batteries, *** towheads, assists
We bowed to lizard majesty
with the lesser misfits
In this skull and bones tragedy,
all makers get met.
Exploring terror ridden territory,
a strange place for lovers.
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 3:01 PM UTC