"betrothed" poems
i.
A Vintage Alfajor necklace
To veil mine sovereign belle;
Betrothed for heaven's comfort
We hath already been through hell.
ii.
Ourn bygone time
Hath strengthened us for forthcoming rapture;
I'll be right next to her, in her allure
No death, forever, happily ever after.
iii.
I'll tryeth daily, tis none maby's
I'll doeth anything, for mine Filipino baby;
As tis I'll maketh her, forget her past
I'll be her bishop, she shalt be mine eternal hourglass.
iv.
As time goeth fast, I mustn't lose the thought
That tommorrow doth not always cometh, we dieth, get lost;
Though she hath found me, I knoweth what being saved mean's
I wilt liveth every day as mine last, and liveth it for mine queen.
v.
So dearest reyna, soulmate, and best friend
When thou doth readeth this, know ourn love shalt not end;
As we both understandeth, this planet is just a passage to the next
We wilt meeteth in this life, and afterward's, pag-ibig at it's best.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication
Aug 21, 2015
Aug 21, 2015 at 3:55 PM UTC
One of the many appellations
It is what I call the love of my life
A quite simple allusion
For these words cannot give justice
My sweet lover.
A moniker
For a champion who saved a damsel in distress
I wish to retire in your presence every night
and wake up in the morning
wrapped in your arms
You're the first and last of my
anthology
Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 12:44 PM UTC
battling demons
or suffering PTSD
with ADHD
and OCD
on TCH
looking for LSD –
need a little TLC
from the FDA
the EPA
just went MIA
and the UN
blames the FBI
while the CIA
and the NSA
seek the PLO –
brb
LOL, IDK
the shizzle is cray cray
****** be trippin
er’ry day
like Ross say
“don’t **** wit me” –
the USA
in betrothed to the NRA
and OSHA
just gave me a passing score
at the same time as the AMA
failed my blood
stylistically, this is MLA
and functionally it’s more WWE
TNT
CNN
t’n’a --
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 6:00 PM UTC
childhoods are forgotten
mere bonds simply left to rot
bewildered and betrothed to the very idea
of a more golden sun
and glistening moon
but not all the planets in the solar system are close
and are in fact very far away
words are to mean nothing
nothing
left with the wind
blown away
good bye! adieu!
I shall miss my friend!
and where is the blossom
whom I met so long ago
on Mars
on Jupiter
the promiscuity of proximity
reminiscing
within the shallow walls of the cave
that drips drips drips
to the past
and history becomes bloated
with subjectivity and
a sepia undertone
so how can we see what went wrong?
how can we learn the implications of each movement
made by our lips
fingers
each deep breath
that coincides with the galaxy
underneath a waning moon
Apr 14, 2018
Apr 14, 2018 at 8:22 PM UTC
1072
Title divine—is mine!
The Wife—without the Sign!
Acute Degree—conferred on me—
Empress of Calvary!
Royal—all but the Crown!
Betrothed—without the swoon
God sends us Women—
When you—hold—Garnet to Garnet—
Gold—to Gold—
Born—Bridalled—Shrouded—
In a Day—
Tri Victory
“My Husband”—women say—
Stroking the Melody—
Is this—the way?
5k
Breeze bellows,
leaves echo in
quivering psithurism,
dithering like
unbroken smoke,
this approaching omen goads.
Dozing crows
slumbering in rows,
droves of locusts'
silenced drone,
almost comatose in repose;
nighttime overtones
choir of toads'
raspy croaks
answered by alto
of crickets' orchestral strokes.
Gust encroaches;
robed boughs
cloven open,
bring into
scope and focus
me juxtaposed,
suspended apropos.
Although motionless
and petrified in stone,
provoked by zephyr
coaxing to and fro;
swaying pendulous
and no longer frozen,
locus gently thrown.
Death rattle moan
evoked from throat,
reflex can't say no
to rigor rigidly posed,
final sigh in silence,
awoken vocal,
expelled and disposed.
Smote by
morose emotion,
gun loaded then exploded
by neurosis,
now bloated
necrosis decomposes
into gross ochre.
This trophy
and this ode
both an opus to
my inability to cope;
romanced i proposed,
eloped and betrothed to
my own
inappropriate composure.
Pocket full of posies
plucked when luck bestowed
and tears in a cup, a toast;
crying copiously,
tempest runneth overflowed,
eyes swollen and soaked.
Dipped my toes
in the coast
of this ocean's
amorphous folds,
gripped by undertow
holding control of my soul;
swiftly shipwrecked in
shallow shoal,
an old atoll.
On sandy floor,
water burrows roads;
digging, carving, roams
through unmarrowed
silica and sandstone
eroding into a cove.
A host for
opal geode trove,
enclosing a
technicolor rose,
from the depths
a glowing mosaic shone
Unopened lotus floats
on foam
of lapping waves,
a boat;
prone to no
grandiose notion
or motive,
adrift as wind stokes.
I suppose
this only shows
the total corrosion
into which I dove,
the only foes to oppose
are those of burdens, so
only weightless can I atone-
I must let go.
Mar 11, 2024
Mar 11, 2024 at 11:02 AM UTC
That boyish heart rescinds,
Others call it growth,
What of worth has he,
If not the love he's known?
Now here stands the man,
Or that is what's supposed,
Whatever happened to,
His storybook betrothed?
The way we touch no longer lingers,
With butterfly tipped and desperate fingers.
We kiss here on the dotted line,
Rent will pay in full on time.
This is not what he has read of love.
So simple to refuse,
The art of growing up.
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 10:30 PM UTC
"Lost love spell caster voodoo spells"
The spammy text-posts read
Let's write them off, as so much bunk
That nobody would heed.
"Love marriage specialist
in Ahmedabad" said another
Finally you could be betrothed
And satisfy your mother!
Voodoo spells and marriage vows
For only a few rupees,
The challenges of life, all quickly solved,
With very modest fees.
Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 11:25 PM UTC
here’s the damnedest thing about “hopeless romantics”:
they’ll splinter their own bones into kindling
to build the fire that warms you,
as if putting a match to their insides
might cauterize the wounds
left behind by the greedy lovers and too-rough hands
that set their hearts to bleeding in the first place
you see, the poets spared no pains when they dubbed
the especially romantic “the hopeless”
they are hopelessly betrothed to the warfare,
the burning insanity
of a soul madly in love with love—
the way the heart rages against the brain.
Oct 27, 2017
Oct 27, 2017 at 11:43 PM UTC
.
In dusk a cloud moves,
Barely are there any stars
And the sheet drops, sinks,
As lovers we came to this
Gentle pond without guile
Under the willows green,
Set on the banks of whin,
In sight of a stone bridge
And settled in to watch
The swans arrive and go,
Like windy arcs of bounty
Under great falling blanket
Of indigo and gold sparkling,
Enameling eyes of the heavens.
Now, I come to visit alone,
Only memories gliding slow,
Love has fled near after song
The sweetest spring awakening,
How time unveils dark truths,
My hair, it falls in the wind
With the groping willows,
The godly eyes of the skies
Are now mere stars that flash,
My love is betrothed to another,
Still, the cool white swans at dusk
Ride in waters turned shallow, murky
And black as their eyes in day fall,
And yet they remain wondrous,
White rose of my soul,
Drifting away.
.
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 3:14 PM UTC
1641
Betrothed to Righteousness might be
An Ecstasy discreet
But Nature relishes the Pinks
Which she was taught to eat—
2.8k
i. descend
i've lost weight since we last met
we fit differently from before-
bird-thin, the both of us-
but this hollow in your feathered chest is
still where i feel most at home-
your jade eyes
a nest, to cultivate my happiness
i've been betrothed to the birds
you stayed back, earthbound
i fell, a cataract, from the red cliffs
you watched me sink, earthbound
i was ripped to shreds in the tundra
freezing and thirsty
and you listened instead to the flowers,
drowning me out as i whispered for help
they told you sunlight stories
when i was trapped in dusk
i was an inch from the edge of night
and you fled
so as to not be consumed.
ii. unpend
i know what i told myself-
i said i shed my mourning veil-
but i still weep for the morning lark,
your lightening song
haunting my brittle nightingale
i write you letters every night
with a fountain pen slathered in red ink
saying what i never could,
spilling my regret on the page
(wake up with ****** hands)
i should have known
you were no one to trust
you're just a fledgling
we're all so naïve.
iii. the end
i take flight, for brave is the man
who would leap from the bluff
to prove his worth;
for i can take action now-
i can say this now,
where before i sat on the sidelines
i will not wilt
in your arms
just for a moment
i will hold you tight
my prisoner
thank you for keeping me alive
i don't need that anymore
thank you for staying by my side
when i had eyes set to ****
thank you for helping me to ascertain
that i’m no phoenix
thank you for participating in
my stupid guessing games
you were the match
to ignite my nicotine habits
but now i'm the one who's
decided to spark and fade
green-eyes,
i've made a decision
and this time i'll stick with it-
featherlight now,
i will make my escape
Dec 10, 2012
Dec 10, 2012 at 12:47 AM UTC
Fate, the absolute tyrant -
Brings me to my desk,
And I sit down to vent
This infernal night,
As prose or verse,
Or utter hogwash -
My wasted emotions -
Which some termed rhapsodic.
I promised myself not to cry -
As the day would dawn,
And I'd wheel down the aisle.
Making myself fall prey -
To another trade
Of cash and silver and solid gold,
A car and bungalow and so much more
- Of which in detail, I wasn't told.
Though I was called a beauty
Who could leave people dazed,
With two curvy dimples,
That lit my pretty face.
People never touched me
And would look at me with shame
Tell me I looked fragile
Once they knew I was lame.
I grew within four walls -
Comfy cushions and space
And it wasn't my legs, feeble
That restricted my pace.
It was love from parents
Siblings' scorn and care
That kept me from the wisely world
To go outdoors, I never dared.
I grew up crawling on my limbs
And seeing people walk
I never wished for them to stop -
Only prayed that they wouldn't talk!
For it was not their legs, I longed for
I reveled for what I was!
I only hoped they applied thought
Before pitying, how crippled I am!
I grew up watching the world go by
Each day and night would fly
Fantasizing with what I had been blessed -
My free and 'abled' mind!
I dream of a world - filled with trust
And friends who would 'walk' with me
Who would talk to me for who I was
And not offer sympathy!
I wished for love,
And found mine, divine
In a fairy tale -
Ironic indeed!
I sang love songs,
Wrote mushy poems
Painted wild dreams -
All to him, which would eventually lead.
You must have known this little boy -
Though a flaw, he did make history.
"Pinocchio", he was fondly called
And was known as a puppet with zeal!
It was not his quest for love that struck
Nor his zest to live
For it was his gait with wooden legs,
In which I could identify me!
But my dreams were thwarted
When to a man, I was entrusted -
(Or rather, on me thrusted)
One - with no love, but legs instead.
Along with blessings
For him to take along
Ample gifts were bestowed -
To keep us betrothed!
And now I await
To be proclaimed his wife
In the presence of a world
Which always kept me deprived.
It will be dawn
And I will soon be gone -
Yet I will yearn
For my Pinocchio to return!
Nov 18, 2011
Nov 18, 2011 at 10:21 AM UTC
I gazed upon the glorious sky
And the green mountains round,
And thought that when I came to lie
Within the silent ground,
'Twere pleasant, that in flowery June,
When brooks send up a cheerful tune,
And groves a joyous sound,
The sexton's hand, my grave to make,
The rich, green mountain turf should break.
A cell within the frozen mould,
A coffin borne through sleet,
And icy clods above it rolled,
While fierce the tempests beat--
Away!--I will not think of these--
Blue be the sky and soft the breeze,
Earth green beneath the feet,
And be the damp mould gently pressed
Into my narrow place of rest.
There through the long, long summer hours,
The golden light should lie,
And thick young herbs and groups of flowers
Stand in their beauty by.
The oriole should build and tell
His love-tale close beside my cell;
The idle butterfly
Should rest him there, and there be heard
The housewife bee and humming-bird.
And what if cheerful shouts at noon
Come, from the village sent,
Or songs of maids, beneath the moon
With fairy laughter blent?
And what if, in the evening light,
Betrothed lovers walk in sight
Of my low monument?
I would the lovely scene around
Might know no sadder sight nor sound.
I know, I know I should not see
The season's glorious show,
Nor would its brightness shine for me,
Nor its wild music flow;
But if, around my place of sleep,
The friends I love should come to weep,
They might not haste to go.
Soft airs, and song, and light, and bloom,
Should keep them lingering by my tomb.
These to their softened hearts should bear
The thought of what has been,
And speak of one who cannot share
The gladness of the scene;
Whose part, in all the pomp that fills
The circuit of the summer hills,
Is--that his grave is green;
And deeply would their hearts rejoice
To hear again his living voice.
2.2k
He gave her his love,
Salt of her tears— shining gift,
Both heaven and earth.
Aug 10, 2012
Aug 10, 2012 at 3:11 PM UTC
Just pebbles on a lonely shore.
Eroded by a constant ebb and flow.
Once were rough around the edges,
Quartz stones,embedded far within.
Bring forth the merman, who chips away with all his heart.
Only happens at midnight you know.
The merman, breaks the pebbles down, retrieves their gifts of crystalline dreams.
Requests permission from Neptune, the father of the seas.
To find a lonely mermaid, to be betrothed to him, so mer folk can continue, to ever live and breed.
Free to rave those wild seas.
In love, they breed on rugged beaches, discreetly out of eye -shot of the eyes of man and beast.
(C) Livvi
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 8:17 AM UTC
i.
I shalt consign mineself
In a balikbayan box;
A snug hole to tryeth to **** air
Mine lung's tightly in lock.
ii.
On a plane, on a ship, in a bus
I shalt squeezeth mine carrion in;
Thinking of mine betrothed amare
How I must risketh mine life, for me to get there.
iii.
As I wilt meeteth her at the Sari-sari store's
Though I wilt be broke, no money, only amour;
Though tis love's not about money, or materialistic junk
As I thinkest all this, I thinkest soon ill break from mine trunk.
iv.
As the plane halt's, mine crate roll's around
Mine queen hath found me, in shock, her tear's cometh down;
Because I fleweth mineself in this darkly space
It was all for a purpose, to seeith the one I loveth, and her face.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane dedication
Aug 16, 2015
Aug 16, 2015 at 8:07 PM UTC
Love has given up.
It was the wrong religion.
And London did not melt into the Thames.
You teetered on the edge of a golden world,
and then fell suddenly—
accused of sortilege, ****** and treason.
And at his pleasure—
or was it mercy?—
Was it for the sake of your seven years,
or perhaps for the little daughter?—
in which flowed the royal blood, spoiled by *** and lineage.
Whatever it was, no matter.
He would spare you the pain
of being burnt at the stake.
Instead, to be executed like royalty—
dispatched by a French swordsman.
The prophecy must have been of little comfort
as your ladies helped prepare you to meet
Death, newly betrothed.
A gown of dark grey damask
floated over a blood-red petticoat.
Your mantle was trimmed with ermine.
Queenly, you stood and addressed those who had come to
watch you. And then you knelt and began to pray, and
quickly and mercifully, the blade
carried out its trajectory.
Oct 9, 2016
Oct 9, 2016 at 10:52 AM UTC
Last night,
I held the ocean's hand,
It was soft and giving,
Nothing like the mysterious depths you described,
That body of water was created inside your mind,
You built her up so high, she couldn't help but fall,
Couldn't help but violently crash onto the rocks below
Now she's bruised and cut, with precious pieces missing,
But I'll be the sun that rises and sets for her every night and day,
and I am not afraid of what lies beneath,
Because she's seen my face, even the masks I try to hide,
I smile and kiss her cheeks,
She is 70% water and I will drink her before drowning in the warmest depths of her skin,
Perhaps the moral of this story is that your ocean,
was never meant to be crossed,
It dwells like a black sea, with secrets and the broken hearts of others,
When the night is betrothed to the shadows,
He does not betray her and seek out other light,
But you did,
And now the ocean is gone,
Her gentle waves have reached a safer shore,
and I will keep her here with gentle truth and love
The ocean isn't just beautiful at night, but she is full of rage and fury,
And at last,
She is mine.
Oct 3, 2015
Oct 3, 2015 at 7:02 PM UTC
Beside me, in this unforgiving November’s winter, is she…
My queen beside me, amidst this rotting debris gifted to me.
Daphne, the comforter sent from the highest skies of Elysia
And Daphne, my love, you put a stopper… on my withering
Never did the sounding of a name, here, blossom a magnolia
Daphne, yours made my hell, the eternal orchards of Elysia.
We were betrothed to each other in here, in this wasteland
I await; you at our wedding, in your wedding gown, oh…
‘Tis her, the beau sky wrapped around your gentle frame
In your adornments, gifted from the agents of light, oh…
They are sapphire stars plucked from that midnight blue
On the edge of the Aegean sea, we await, in this wasteland
I await; you at our wedding, in your veil and crown, oh…
‘Tis her, the clouds and her raindrops, adorning your face
I await our wedding waltz, in our deserted fields, oh…
Without our kin, persecuted and orphaned by the world
Alone we shall dance, on the edge of Ymos, our dwelling
Alone we shall be in our vows when our eyes rain in joy
I await your grand advent, beaming gleefully, towards me
Bringing me, serenity; being my succour, with your smile
I await your silhouette, irradiating the wide evening blue
Bringing me, release; being my soother, now I live anew
Daphne, your midnight blue eyes, your voice of mead…
My pen fervently gallops for words, as I just gaze in awe
Let the sands of time tick away in joy, ticking, grain by grain
The heavens merry till the penultimate hours of our union
Now, in these salty Aegean waters, I taste honey and wine
I await our pristine union; as your hand knots with mine.
Beside me, in this unforgiving November’s winter, is you…
Daphne…
Nov 30, 2020
Nov 30, 2020 at 5:35 AM UTC
Thorny theories, swan songs
to ask but once
Anita Bryant , a Southern librarian
swam Bathing suit
in the algae deemed
the origin of mankind,
betrothed or otherwise
whispered the newly keeper of the Fauna.
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 6:01 PM UTC
Lovely lady of the night
Stars and you shining so bright
Do dearly show yourself to me
I cannot bear your mystery
Pale and crisp, of subdued hue
Your majesty in me, doth thoughts imbue
And nowhere on the blessed chain
Round earth will you too long remain
Deepest dankest darkness of the day
With your dark magic, never can it play
Your force too great, your pull stronger than seas
My fear at night, your brightness doth appease
And show me please your brilliance and your ore
As I to you, reveal my truest core
Of gold we both are made and one to test
Will we together be among the best
I know that to the sun you are betrothed
Unearthly marriage, yours here is ne’er exposed
The sparkle of the summer sun doth always fade
'fore you, bright one, come tumbling from its shade
All alone, you two do light my paths
One on one, in glory or in wrath
But query, I do have for one or both
If always separate why are thee betroth’d
In light in love in independence great
Each on its own doth true beauty create
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 12:58 AM UTC
"The king has fallen"
A majestic castle,
A thousand arsenal,
For he just leaves it,
He leaves them all.
A mourning queen,
A king-to-be prince,
One betrothed princess,
One warrior princess,
One prince in the war front,
One prince in the castle fort,
And one prince in the study.
These are what left of the mighty king.
Tis not a story of war,
Tis not a story of romance,
But tis a story of a battle,
Of the mighty king himself,
The Phyton King,
Or so he was called,
Was no match with the Viper king,
And the Cobra king,
Kings that he called brothers,
Have poisoned him;
Slowly killing him.
His kingdom was never on the top,
But it was the most peacefull,
But his rival kings;
Were always trying to topple him.
They can full charge him from front,
Ambush him from the sides,
Sneak in from the back,
But he has never shaken.
For decades,
He stood strong,
He remain unscathed,
But years of defense has weaken him from inside,
He has only hold them in,
With no effort to call for aid.
And that was his killing,
Being silent,
And never fighting back.
-HIY
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 5:53 AM UTC