"betrothing" poems
All your thoughts
And hopes
And fears
Are just about made clear
By an outward facing Claddagh ring
Worn proudly on your finger
Like a wedding band betrothing you to life.
Apr 24, 2010
Apr 24, 2010 at 7:26 PM UTC
Golden bells,—bedight o'er towers—
Amidst the betrothing melody,
The touch of stained glass—
Beams the rosary beads
Binding me with a man held high;
Now to be crowned his wife.
"My lord, lend me thy right hand,
As thy loyal servant,—
I vow to pledge our country."
The Moonlight Song,— let our haunches be mere pitches—
Of forests rocked by branches
Ah, my fatal reverie—
Savor this antique scenery,
With classic gothic frames,
And worn laces,—Peaking the figures'desires
Cradle me,—
And thou shalt drink my glass,—
To offer a sip;-- so to paint moist on windows.
Sunrise, leap me to this town!—
How gracious men and children,
I shalt dress all thee;-—Make a stronghold that prospers the needy;
Lest the void of promised land—
Wither the faith of mankind.
With the King's side,
Reformation sets the nation to affluence;
The bonfire relives the glorious centuries—
Never scorn, swords unfold!
May 6, 2020
May 6, 2020 at 3:17 AM UTC
~for Victoria~
*this by rights
an easy poem to inscribe
nonetheless the rhythm escapes me,
though the wordy contra-shades of
render and tender,
some incontrovertible, all well understood,
their complexity loved and
jointed-in-a-soul,
betrothing and forevermore
rendering, separating
two subtle words that shape
e v e r y t h i n g
about the this poet,
tender boy rendered man,
by many lifetimes that fit into no
storage shed(ing)
yet this new effort requires
effort,
the verbs ripped wrenched,
the nouns hide underneath profound,
notions needed for a potent potion release;
none, ****
do not come easy
so put aside for the
spilling
moment
though the urgency of the
needling
in-chest,
thumping,
begging
for release furiously,
fulfilling
the poets
doublin purpose:
created to create seeds
only this
a simplistic surrenders
from self, to self
emergent
tender me
the teary essence soup of human weakness
from which
to render
strength
from that brew,
give me beauty,
the keen and the ken
the crook and the hook
to desire the next days creation
render, tender me unto,
its new chance for
beauty*
6/2/18 11:30am
down by the riverside Peconic
Jun 2, 2018
Jun 2, 2018 at 11:57 AM UTC
Amorous one, bedight me in snug linen
Canopy me in thy oriental pinion's;
A ditty for thee, I writeth in this amour
For thou hath let me in, and opened thine door.
Forsooth, we shalt be lover's in cinema Booth's
Letting go of ourn past, cutting ropes, untying the noose;
Thither the jungle's we shalt be missionarie's, exemplary
No thwarting to enter in the tropical orient gate's
Openness cherished, withy exotic plant's to fit ourn date;
Don't be late amare, thou canst put up, or keep down thy hair
For thou shalt blend the forest's, as no makeup for thee is needed.
Thou shalt quench me by thy tan colored painted skin
Betrothing another, fused bodie's together, preparing perfume;
Locked behind ourn own wall, leaving the world in back room
Other's think we're dead, because ourn spirit's from tombs, alive.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry/
あある じぇえん
Aug 5, 2015
Aug 5, 2015 at 3:11 PM UTC
Today I watch in disbelief,
entire city, swallowed whole
Nature's indifference betrothing Man's grief,
Each one believing it's in control
Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 4:26 PM UTC