"balked" poems
I
LEAGUERED in fire
The wild black promontories of the coast extend
Their savage silhouettes;
The sun in universal carnage sets,
And, halting higher,
The motionless storm-clouds mass their sullen threats,
Like an advancing mob in sword-points penned,
That, balked, yet stands at bay.
Mid-zenith hangs the fascinated day
In wind-lustrated hollows crystalline,
A wan valkyrie whose wide pinions shine
Across the ensanguined ruins of the fray,
And in her lifted hand swings high o'erhead,
Above the waste of war,
The silver torch-light of the evening star
Wherewith to search the faces of the dead.
II
Lagooned in gold,
Seem not those jetty promontories rather
The outposts of some ancient land forlorn,
Uncomforted of morn,
Where old oblivions gather,
The melancholy, unconsoling fold
Of all things that go utterly to death
And mix no more, no more
With life's perpetually awakening breath?
Shall Time not ferry me to such a shore,
Over such sailless seas,
To walk with hope's slain importunities
In miserable marriage? Nay, shall not
All things be there forgot,
Save the sea's golden barrier and the black
Closecrouching promontories?
Dead to all shames, forgotten of all glories,
Shall I not wander there, a shadow's shade,
A spectre self-destroyed,
So purged of all remembrance and ****** back
Into the primal void,
That should we on that shore phantasmal meet
I should not know the coming of your feet?
3.7k
1.
New Year met me somewhat sad:
Old Year leaves me tired,
Stripped of favorite things I had,
Balked of much desired:
Yet farther on my road to-day,
God willing, farther on my way.
New Year coming on apace
What have you to give me?
Bring you scathe, or bring you grace,
Face me with an honest face;
You shall not deceive me:
Be it good or ill, be it what you will,
It needs shall help me on my road,
My rugged way to heaven, please God.
2.
Watch with me, men, women, and children dear,
You whom I love, for whom I hope and fear,
Watch with me this last vigil of the year.
Some hug their business, some their pleasure-scheme;
Some seize the vacant hour to sleep or dream;
Heart locked in heart some kneel and watch apart.
Watch with me, blessed spirits, who delight
All through the holy night to walk in white,
Or take your ease after the long-drawn fight.
I know not if they watch with me: I know
They count this eve of resurrection slow,
And cry, "How long?" with urgent utterance strong.
Watch with me, Jesus, in my loneliness:
Though others say me nay, yet say Thou yes;
Though others pass me by, stop Thou to bless.
Yea, Thou dost stop with me this vigil night;
To-night of pain, to-morrow of delight:
I, Love, am Thine; Thou, Lord, my God, art mine.
3.
Passing away, saith the World, passing away:
Chances, beauty and youth sapped day by day:
Thy life never continueth in one stay.
Is the eye waxen dim, is the dark hair changing to gray
That hath won neither laurel nor bay?
I shall clothe myself in Spring and bud in May:
Thou, root-stricken, shalt not rebuild thy decay
On my ***** for aye.
Then I answered: Yea.
Passing away, saith my Soul, passing away:
With its burden of fear and hope, of labor and play;
Hearken what the past doth witness and say:
Rust in thy gold, a moth is in thine array,
A canker is in thy bud, thy leaf must decay.
At midnight, at cock-crow, at morning, one certain day
Lo, the Bridegroom shall come and shall not delay:
Watch thou and pray.
Then I answered: Yea.
Passing away, saith my God, passing away:
Winter passeth after the long delay:
New grapes on the vine, new figs on the tender spray,
Turtle calleth turtle in Heaven's May.
Though I tarry, wait for Me, trust Me, watch and pray.
Arise, come away, night is past, and lo it is day,
My love, My sister, My spouse, thou shalt hear Me say.
Then I answered: Yea.
2.3k
1283
Could Hope inspect her Basis
Her Craft were done—
Has a fictitious Charter
Or it has none—
Balked in the vastest instance
But to renew—
Felled by but one assassin—
Prosperity—
1.6k
Disastified. Dissatisfaction. Disappointing, disappear.
Disability, disdaining- disgusting
Difficult
dislike
Disgrace
Let down. Saddened. aghast - balked.
Beaten. chap-fallen - deafen.
Bitter-pill. Blind.
Alley. Blow.
Anticlimactic.
Crestfallen. thwarted, foil. baffle, bilk - discomfited, frustrated.
thwarted.
Unsuccessful
Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 12:22 PM UTC
I looked on as an elderly man was painting an old farm house in oils, surrounded by trees dressed in their autumn finery. The house was shown as an aged and faded white surrounded by a low picket fence that had fallen into disrepair and long since been forgotten. The old dilapidated barn in the distance was expressed in varying shades of grey and peeling red paint. I was enraptured by the image I was seeing unfold before my eyes. It appeared to be such a simple piece, but it grew in complexity the longer I viewed it. Its underlying tones were of sadness and loneliness, time, and things forgotten. I balked at that, finding my initial assessment woefully inaccurate, this was not a lonely place, a forgotten place; this was a place that had seen life and heard stories! I knew the man had not yet finished with his painting and would not be so for some time. He was quite meticulous, as if he was paining the memories of his life. Every stroke of the brush had its designated place, its own meaning, and the way his hands grabbed absently at the different brushes seemed as if they had been pre-selected before he ever began. As his story was being narrated in layers of paint and hue, I found myself thinking about what life might have been like in that place he was creating. Who might have lived there? The colors in the painting boasted an autumn season, and though they were warm to the eye the season would have been cold, the growing…slow. No, it wouldn’t have been planting season, it seemed more likely that it would have been hunting season. I imagined game animals in the surrounding hills and a man in a flannel jacket walking silently through those amber colored woods, with rifle in hand and beagles in tow. The frost of his breath echoing the smoke that whispered from the chimney of the house. It would have been warm inside, and maybe children played by the hearth in the day’s early hours before they went reluctantly about their chores under the watchful gaze of a firm, yet loving mother. My thoughts darted to and fro about this painting in the most ridiculous of fashions, seeing people I would never meet, living events that never happened. But I was held to it long enough to allow my imagination to escape, and for a while, frolic freely with the idea of something beautifully simple. I left the elderly man to his work as I carried on about my day, thinking to myself all the while that if a picture is worth a thousand words, a painting is an unread novel.
Dec 15, 2012
Dec 15, 2012 at 6:43 AM UTC
Thaw out frozen thoughts
shoulders hunched against the sleet
stride crunching on the downbeats
familiar haunts are blurring
Hurried northward daydreams don't
trickle south through Douglas Firs
But remember how our paths crossed?
Stargazers both--I balked first
4 blocks down, I'm held accountable
for crusade hypocrisies
I keep tucked in my back pockets
and rolled up in uprolled sleeves
The sun returns, or so I'm told
but it's been evening for awhile.
And, if they're wrong, where are we then?
Left knowing we're left under miles
of mounting snow?
Left knowing we've got to stop--
but not one clue how to cope
Wondering where hours, weeks and years went
counting calendars we've peeled off walls
Counting marks on records
marks on faces
Counting calendars
Tally scars--stubborn reminders
of how we got where we are.
Ground my skyward thoughts
in the grid of frozen streets
I'll sink deep in the hoarfrost
coats the ground, turns steps to beats
I'll keep time, now, walking westward
hands in pockets, eyes on feet.
I'll remember how your breath looked
off of Brooks Street walking east.
Dec 31, 2012
Dec 31, 2012 at 9:07 PM UTC
More than twenty years ago...
Your parents
who foolishly believed after several months of false courtship
of skirting the law in a way that could make anyone's jaw
drop down to the worst possible city
to live their lives in unholy matrimony.
The greatest mistake two people in hate could make
is to have someone be born from their hatred and take
everything they've ever felt.
Slowly, through their mistakes, you would rack up
so many defects, which then cause the effects
to never be visible.
Every bad trait was inherited. Every flaw absorbed. Every error
they ever made in their lives
recalculated and saved to be avoided in the worst possible way.
People hated you for you, and people hated them for getting in the way.
People hated them for you, and people hated you for not getting in their way.
People stopped hating you eventually, so you hated them instead.
And right at the very last second
when you felt you could be loved
when you felt the world could actually embrace
someone as broken, and desolate, and worthless as you
someone who has failed so many times
someone who has thrown away so many opportunities
someone who has balked and hid in cowardice
someone who has fought and defended themselves in inopportune times
someone who truly felt, thought, believed, and expressed nothing
you ******* it up.
At least, you think you did.
The truth is others did it for you.
But you know deep down it was you.
Every facet of you is one unending mistake, and the only reason
you still stand
is because even God looked upon you and said,
"Well, if he can't serve as an example,
he'd be better put to use as a warning unto others."
You'll die alone and you're fine with that.
Nov 26, 2017
Nov 26, 2017 at 4:24 PM UTC
I pine away
for the sun of a distant sky
a star I barely know
yet the drums beats wildly
eyes sees a lush forest
when there is barely any saplings
a land of withering flowers
forget-me-not,
a bitter smile on a tired face
who nursed a little heart back
from a broken heart
yet the little heart still
seized a glimmer of chance, humming
unable to stop hoping and wanting
even when the minds balked and balked
for it knows to pine for the sun is to fall
there is a reason
why human does not have wings
yet the little heart keeps trying to fly,
foolish and desperate in its loneliness
pumping it self until it burst
gone was the mind, but hope scorches
I pine away and
I perished
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 8:51 AM UTC
*"Come to me, all you that are weary
and are carrying heavy burdens
and I will give you rest.
Take my yoke upon you,
and learn from me; for I am gentle
and humble in heart,
and you will find rest for your souls.
For my yoke is easy,
and my burden is light."
Mathew 11:28 NRSV*
**You carry heavy burdens
of options you have few
I know it is great hardship
for I was once like you
I had a weary heart and mind
walking in your shoes
but I found a Helper
In Him I was imbued
So take His yoke upon you
He will help with all you do
when the Word was written
two oxen used to plow
and were yoked to the heavy carts
great burdens to allow
two oxen were used
held together with yokes of wood
one was inexperienced
the other understood
one was young and weaker
the other strong and hale
it would help the weaker one
who may slip and fail
it would stand by patiently
while the young one balked and grumbled
it would lift the weaker beast
if it fell or stumbled
this is what our Lord does
He helps when we slide
if we take His yoke upon us
and in Him abide
are you weak and tired?
under burdens groan?
Take His yoke upon you
*and you'll
NEVER BE ALONE***
SoulSurvivor
(C) 1/29/2016
Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 10:48 AM UTC
GOD MADE
ADAM BIT
NOAH ARKED
ABRAHAM SPLIT
JOSEPH RULED-JACOB FOOLED
BUSH TALKED-MOSES BALKED
PHARAOH PLAGUED-PEOPLE WALKED
SEA DIVIDED
TABLETS GUIDED
PROMISE LANDED
SAUL FREAKED
DAVID PEEKED
PROPHETS WARNED
JESUS BORN
GOD WALED
LOVE TALKED
ANGER CRUCIFIED
HOPE DIED
LOVE ROSE
SPIRIT FLAMED
WORD SPREAD
GOD REMAINED
Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 3:03 PM UTC
Irked by the stale life I am in
A bland dish seeking ample spice
The intersection of our roads was exhilarating
A new-born daredevil shall not think twice
Perilous was the color of your eyes
The way your gaze froze me in place
Flames previously nonexistent began to rise
And desires now asked to feel my embrace
Dangerous was the shade of your plump lips
When you speak, the way they curve
Electric bolts pierced through my fingertips
Then infiltrated my every vein, every nerve
Treacherous was the sound of your voice
The way curses became a pleasing melody
A single syllable balked all perturbing noise
Enticing me into your wicked sorcery
Lethal was how you skillfully kiss
The way it sets ablaze the surface it meets
My formation of thoughts have gone amiss
The settling insanity is now who greets
Murderous was your hand's every touch
The way your fingers danced on my skin
Dull-looking blades were deemed to do not much
But yours were sharp enough to slice my soul within
Pestilent was how you wrapped yourself around my body
The way your frame is fitted to mine
Tremendous waves devour me completely
And I drown, though not in brine
Deadly was how you wanted to play
The way you wanted to love me
From my ever-so-monotonous life, I have gone astray
My life is the price; I'll pay it fully
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 7:44 AM UTC
balked
at the
lanky
droopy
long-haired
fingers flitting and tapping about on a guitar
opened his mouth
closed his eyes
and there galloped forth
a song of god
gawk
Apr 18, 2017
Apr 18, 2017 at 3:13 PM UTC
Her forked laughter gave no indication,
she wore no particular ermine to pledge her terrority..
Poems were broken into syllables
unsounded with scant intention,
her own vagueness was affliction itself,
near darkness her bridgehead
this equivocal shadow
a balked performance in the making.
Feb 23, 2013
Feb 23, 2013 at 8:39 PM UTC
Nosferatu would have balked if not gone bald.
They, too, from themselves their selves do balk.
Circumnavigate the lily pond,
Iron Lady in the swaddling baking egg pies, with spited
Curlers in our fronds and — equanimity's edict — forest green-eyed addict — is
A plumbed plum; a dendritic denizen for the cypress,
Willow that 's hung! Willow that sung! Soothing it hugs
the sights — such sour honors — so smooth-over the boy's club, so you can get in or out whichever youregoingfor;
bring them their rose water which drips next to the
chiffon and the lubricated sewing table — the grape to-
mato-mottled lunar ligament: by dew of the top lip, do lay —
go gray in taut winter
Aug 18, 2019
Aug 18, 2019 at 6:42 PM UTC
They called my skin the color of chocolate,
A dimple that they could lose a penny in,
Long hair the wind sweeping their dreams,
Sparkling eyes like doors to the woman within.
They balked at my age when I smilingly answered,
Wondering if I bathe in the fountain of youth,
How is it that I kept it so alive and kicking,
So beautiful and strong, almost altering the truth.
"Let me breathe in your essence", someone said,
"I knew I would fall for you", someone else,
"Wait till you become an actress", as I boarded a train,
But you know, I wasn't really trapping hearts myself.
Don't get me wrong, I love the adulation,
But it might all fade as I get older,
I grew up to understand something very firmly though,
Beauty lies in the eye of the beholder.
I wanted to be loving, I wanted to be kind,
The wonderful kind that would make anyone kind,
She who embraces life, and wins against odds,
With all the power and beauty of her mind.
Wild dreams keep me on my toes every day,
From chasing butterflies to building empires,
A web of fantasies, that gets denser every moment,
Living life with all that my heart desires.
Thank you for calling me the color of chocolate,
Telling me that I look fetching, and all that admiring,
I will take all of it graciously,
And also become strong, loving and inspiring.
Feb 9, 2018
Feb 9, 2018 at 12:22 AM UTC
*Tonight, when we said goodnight
I meant goodbye.
Truth be told I was getting cold
Stood on the doorstep.
I wanted to be warming by the fire
Yet, you stood and talked
I fidgeted and balked
at your droning voice
You wanted to discuss us further
there is no us, I murmured
yet on and on you droned
about our future, our perfect partnership.
Until in the end, I had to end the night
with ******
Until we meet again at the gates of Hell
(Where you'll be there waiting to talk again)
Please just remember my temper,
It flared that cold night
and killed you with a
jolly shove.
You hit the path and dealt yourself a death blow
At least your death wasn't slow
(unlike the goodnight at my door)
Brevity is a necessity explicitly born out of hostility.
And your obituary was less than a
paragraph.*
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 8:03 PM UTC
i didn't notice until last year.
the tumor, that is.
only a small and insignificant seedling,
it began to take root
deep within my cobwebs.
but the longer you fertilized
with your anger and hatred,
the stronger it became,
consuming my very soul.
and as time passed,
i felt it pulsating angrily
within my feeble brain,
maliciously eroding at my walls.
first,
it was only impatience.
i balked at your words and
your contempt made me cringe.
then,
it grew into anger.
so powerful it could erase
my love and replace it
with overwhelming loathe.
finally,
the bitterness budded.
i hated you venomously.
those seven letters raised my hackles,
your voice caused an adrenaline surge,
and your screams nauseated me.
before i knew what happened,
your tumor was my tumor;
your sickness was my own;
your self-hatred as strong as mine.
the line was blurred,
the ship sank as you watched
with a mocking smile.
someday,
i will face the tumor.
someday,
i will cut it out,
shut it down,
make you stop.
someday,
but not today.
Feb 28, 2012
Feb 28, 2012 at 12:56 AM UTC
I wandering walked
In a dream of a well
Soul shivered and shocked
For my hope shattered shell
All bravery balked
At the toll of a bell
Falling from clouds
To drown in dark lake
Crying aloud
I startled awake
Heart and head bowed
I felt my fists shake
Waking’s a struggle to drive
Away dreams of dark omen
Unwary, I close my eyes
They rise before me again
Why is the reward of my past
The return of darkness in my dreams?
When I thought I could rest at last
A new curse is cast upon me
I despair of the chance to ask
Why can I never be free?
Jul 23, 2017
Jul 23, 2017 at 6:18 PM UTC
A green, unseasoned ox
Was put unto the plow
A yoke was placed upon it
To work the master's rows
It balked at the job given
For it did not know how.
The master saw it's plight
He knew it had to learn
So he brought a great and seasoned ox
And a double yoke was worn
They both pulled a wagon
Filled from stem to stern.
The master tapped them with the reins
They both began to pull
The new and yet unknowing ox
Got it in its skull
To go a path that was unsafe
It's wits were yet quite dull.
So it balked again and cried
To go the other way
But the great and seasoned ox
Stood there in the fray
He allowed the younger ox
To buck and buck all day.
So finally the younger ox
Was tired, began to wheeze
It knew it was defeated
It's pride was finally seized
It bowed down in humility
And fell onto its knees.
The ox cried bitterly
In its enormous shame
The other ox was greatly moved
For its weeping out HIS NAME
He nuzzled it & stroked it
For HE was once the same.
The master, too, came off his seat
And succored the poor beast
He gave it food and water
Held it to his breast
The greater ox lay down with it
So that it could rest.
The young ox finally rallied
Was ready for the fight
Of pulling the great burden...
... but found that it was light!
For the greater ox was pulling, too
He stout and he forthright!
The master smiled proudly
The young ox would reach the goal...
And what WAS this great burden?
**Billions of HUMAN SOULS.**..
SoulSurvivor
(C)1/28/2017
***"Come to me, all you who are weary
and burdened, and I will give you rest.
Take my yoke upon you and learn from
me, for I am gentle and humble in heart,
and you will find rest for your souls.
For my yoke is easy,
and my burden is light."**
Matthew 11:28-30 NIV*
Jan 28, 2017
Jan 28, 2017 at 4:27 PM UTC
Space-time is full of holes,
and that is why we're friends
I've got holes too,
fiery red one-way portals to infinity
Ripped through the fabric of reality
by the sheer weight of this thing itself
Space-time is full of holes
No longer stars, they hurl themselves
Across the body of the cosmos
Eating matter so fast
It burns red as it crosses
Into the event horizon
This particular bundle of star stuff
Has a black hole in its chest
Memories burn red
As they pass into the event horizon
Backward through isness
On a one way ride to infinity
Einstein balked
when he conceived of such malevolence
At first, he tried to deny it
And for this, I cannot blame him
I have done the very same
A hole in reality is no easy thing
May 6, 2019
May 6, 2019 at 12:52 PM UTC
She was tale frail and green
Distinctly unseen
My eye caught her antennae
She moved closer and whispered
In the wrong language
I balked
Funny how the word for Martian
Exists
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 5:32 AM UTC
*
The squires stood the castle gate
of sword and shield they bear
Awaiting armored knights to be,
lone sentries now aware
A beating sun of torrid feel
embarked the sky this day
As voices called from eastern heights
in echoes cast away
The entrance braced of timber thick,
yon bridge drawn to the sky
To dare not open for the howl
of woodland spirit’s cry
Banished long ago it was
for evil spells it spate
Turned villagers upon themselves
in angered fits of hate
Yet on this simmered summer’s eve
the squires balked their stead
Hypnotically the whispers called
so deep within their head
Manipulated by the breeze
of kindness floating faux
‘mid promises of purity
as white as driven snow
“They cast me o’er” a voice did sift
“No fault I swear of me,
I mingled not in lone affairs
this promise comes you see”
“A certain few, low cretins all
of lies they sold as true
and pockets lined of purest gold
to do what they must do”
“I plead a pardon so to prove
my quest is merely fair
In words of mystic wizard speak
I pledge to only share"
"Hear me, on this mystic night
of incantation's win
Stand aside this harbored fear
so I may live again”
In hazy gaze and wild look
the squires sealed the fate
‘pon lowering the bridge of wood
and opening the gate
When once within, the smile gone
as crimson eyes now stare
“I’ll bring this kingdom to its knees,
I will again, I swear”
Then sharpened claws of viper’s speed
released on angered breath
Did slice ensorcelled squire's flesh
to bleed until their death*
To be continued…maybe
Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 11:09 AM UTC
I.
Not yet,
am I seventeen.
II.
When I was five or six
I imagined a world in which
my first kiss was on my sixteenth birthday
and I was wearing a pink dress.
III.
I had my first kiss when I was fourteen,
in plaid pajama bottoms
and a loose top.
IV.
When I was seven or eight
I imagined a world in which
I was a vet tech
with my hair in a bun.
V.
I am in a world
where vet school
is not interesting.
VI.
My hair
will never be long enough
for a bun.
VII.
"Be the person you needed
when you were younger"
I would have balked,
and disagreed,
I know.
VIII.
If I could see a picture of me now
when I was little
I would laugh
and never believe a word about
how I hated my *******
my hips
my voice.
IX.
I would have never believed a word of how
I'd fall in love with a girl
who was sad as night
and made me as happy
as the sun.
X.
And I never would have believed
that I would love that little girl
who had grown into a man.
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 10:11 PM UTC
got caught up talking
balked through the window and fell through the back door
umbrella still in bloom
left rings of condensation as footsteps
and also frostbite in 60 degree weather
and also footsteps for nobodies to follow
freaked out by stale nature
valley-cracked teeth
translucent petals poking through nag champa clouds
lost spider solitaire
twenty-one times in a row
lost all the gaba napping in classrooms
and spinning circles around itself
untuned cerebellum in atrophy against the spins
lost it
won an advil liqui-gel
and quickly quit:
jumped off the peak of its dose-response curve
into the pool of a hallucinogenic july
doesn’t matter:
komorebi’s turned apocalyptic;
sunset's turned subvision
now you make shadows on the mirror and wet-floor signs on the tile
get caught in spiderwebs not a foot outside your bedroom
blast faith through android speakers suffocating in her comforter
drown your plants in ***** water
never heard a silver lining
only eat up deserts
for the cacti that’ll propagate later in your throat:
a seventy-five cent zinnia’s last whiskey-driven photosynthesis
rootbound
Jan 26, 2025
Jan 26, 2025 at 10:41 AM UTC
She was a giggler, my first girlfriend
we took each others virginity
it was a messy affair, I didn't have a clue
just what it was I was supposed to do.
Luckily she being two years older
knew exactly what my part was.
Her broken ***** left blood
all around the base of my intrudence
that part of my body that broke into hers
and made us one. I was fourteen.
We never lasted, she married
and had two children. I stayed single.
We met a good few years back, she
talked of divorce. I reminded her
that she took those vows and she should
try to share and understand her husband
more, She balked and I could see her struggle.
She didn't giggle as much, and I havn't seen her
since.
Sep 7, 2016
Sep 7, 2016 at 6:06 PM UTC