"bewilder" poems
There is that pretty Rock Of Suicide That is located behind our eyes and Behind our ears in this world ... Behind mountains and those plains , There are unseen and invisible worlds We always keep them in our minds ... From that side , where that Rock Of Suicide is located , we can see only A few chains of mountains that overlook On many directions here and there .... We only guess that there are things Bewilder us with their invisible sights ... We love to see all kinds of hard rocks In all directions and in the opposite Directions anytime,anywhere,and Everywhere on the surface of our planet ...
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 7:39 AM UTC
Heap not on this mound
Roses that she loved so well;
Why bewilder her with roses,
That she cannot see or smell?
She is happy where she lies
With the dust upon her eyes.
7.7k
the people whose job is to
understand the multiverse
can't figure this world out
rid·dle ˈridl/noun: riddle; plural noun: riddles
1. | a question or statement intentionally
phrased so as to require ingenuity
in ascertaining its answer or meaning,
typically presented as a game;
a person, event, or fact that is difficult
to understand or explain.
"the riddle of her death" [puz·zle
ˈpəzəl/verb: puzzle; 3rd person present:
puzzles; past tense: puzzled; past participle:
puzzled; gerund or present participle:
puzzling
1. cause (someone) to feel confused because
they cannot understand or make sense of something:
"one remark he made puzzled me"
synonyms: perplex, confuse, bewilder,
bemuse, baffle, mystify, confound;
faze, stump, beat, discombobulate
"her decision puzzled me"
perplexed, confused, bewildered,
bemused, baffled, mystified, confounded,
nonplussed, at a loss, at sea;
flummoxed, stumped, fazed, clueless,
discombobulated
"a puzzled look on her face"
baffling, perplexing, bewildering, confusing, complicated, unclear, mysterious, enigmatic, ambiguous, obscure, abstruse, unfathomable, incomprehensible, impenetrable, cryptic
"his explanation was rather puzzling"
antonyms: clear
think hard about something difficult
to understand or explain;
"she was still puzzling over this problem
when she reached the office"
| [ ] think hard about, mull over,
muse over, ponder, contemplate,
meditate on,
consider, deliberate on, chew over, wonder about
"she puzzled over the problem"
solve or understand something by thinking hard;
synonyms: work out, understand,
comprehend, sort out, reason out, solve, make sense of,
make head(s) or tail(s) of, unravel, decipher; informal: figure out
"she tried to puzzle out what he meant"
noun: puzzle; plural noun: puzzles
1. [ ], [ ] ( );
a game, toy, or problem designed
to test ingenuity or knowledge;
short for jigsaw puzzle (see jigsaw)
a person or thing that is difficult to understand
or explain; an enigma:
"the meaning of this poem will always be a paradox"
synonyms: enigma, mystery, paradox,
conundrum, poser, riddle, problem, quandary;
"the poem has always been a puzzle"
late 16th century (as a verb): of unknown origin:
synonyms: puzzle, conundrum, brainteaser, problem,
unsolved problem, question, poser, enigma,
quandary; informal: stumper
"an answer to the riddle"
verb/archaic
verb: riddle; 3rd person present: riddles;
past tense: riddled; past participle: riddled;
gerund or present participle: riddling
1. speak in or pose riddles.
"he who knows not how to riddle"
solve or explain (a riddle) to (someone).
"riddle me this then"
Origin
Old English rǣdels, rǣdelse ‘opinion,
conjecture, riddle’; related
to Dutch raadsel,
German Rätsel, to read
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 12:19 AM UTC
the words don't come easy
on this head-pounding hungover day
every train of thought trails off
into intangible nonsense.
maybe if i buy a new pen? i think
perhaps then these words won't look so lame?
maybe a carbon steel ballpoint pen
with high-grade stainless steel trimmings.
i could engrave my name on it.
with a pen like that, i think
i could write cryptic poetry
that would bewilder the masses.
then i speculate the possibilities
of stabbing myself in the neck with a pen like that
with my name engraved on it.
possibly if i hit a main artery
in my neck, i think
that could work.
but i can't afford a pen like that.
Feb 25, 2012
Feb 25, 2012 at 10:33 PM UTC
The spark of passion ignites the heart, until it is engulfed in a conflagration of notions, as curiosity triumphs over caution.
The seed of wisdom, planted in fields of knowledge, is cultivated and refined in kingdoms of intellect to innovate speeches of freedom.
Blisters in sweaty palms, rubbing against the pen, as it drifts between the paths of future and past, where hope is met and joy is felt.
Consumed by epiphanies, the heart-beat is felt by trembling hands, squeezing the pen for inspiration, to bewilder imaginations, giving birth to new perceptions.
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 1:01 AM UTC
don’t be dashing round
oh you so young and dashing dash;
so energetic –
you just bewilder us all
O dash –
what a dash you make for it;
O dash –
what surprises you have in store
O dash –
you’re not connective tissue
like the hyphen;
but dash -
you are a more dramatic fellow
I did use you once, dash -
but my sentence tripped and fell;
so now when I call on you
I ensure I’ve got you tied –
like a dog to the leash
don’t be dashing round
oh you so young and dashing dash;
so energetic –
you just bewilder us all
Oct 9, 2010
Oct 9, 2010 at 11:30 AM UTC
monstrous sound slashes silence
the bellow of a giant beast,
the flutter of a thousand wings
elevation and indiscriminate creed will not heed
sinister stirs the mix, the rise of wicked extravagance
black feathers flutter to bewilder against the pale frontier
the mock of a starlings flight, the fall in a sparrow’s might
countless sullen wings unfold, to rally their squadrons for show
a mobbing cry meets a redeeming sky,
their rising tones mimic heaven heralding high
contrast to the core, countless black rap-tor destroy
the fading blue sapphire display
a rebel twist in the storm suspends them again
harbingers dawning
a verge of wonder, stands close
the small dark outlines, bask a golden shine
peripheries slight motion, a graceful shimmer
perched as an alert, the slight snap of the fingers
a single feather cascades
turning in the elegant dance of a ballerina's descent
laying at the step vaguely pointing to the entrance,
the pride of a black bird,
there is no place for an Omen here,
one last frailty, is my secret near and dear
Terry D’Arcy-Ryan
Feb 14, 2018
Feb 14, 2018 at 6:51 PM UTC
it's the morbid fear to tickle the pen against paper -
and behold; the fear to connect the matchstick to the taper
to stay on, till the sun shoots
to pick out thoughts, from their roots
counting syllables and rhyming words:
they don't matter much.
for look at the birds
they put freedom on your heart with a single touch
no
i can't rhyme no more no
my continuum is hampered
by your wholesome self oh so patient
quatrains and dissection no
feelings and love
and how i mutter words
this is how you make me feel, boy
incoherent yet filled with passion
i can't think but i managed a few adjectives for you
this is how you make me feel, boy
you bewilder me
and
oh
-
Oct 13, 2013
Oct 13, 2013 at 10:28 AM UTC
Blithe dreams arise to greet us,
And life feels clean and new,
For the old love comes to meet us
In the dawning and the dew.
O'erblown with sunny shadows,
O'ersped with winds at play,
The woodlands and the meadows
Are keeping holiday.
Wild foals are scampering, neighing,
Brave merles their hautboys blow:
Come! let us go a-maying
As in the Long-Ago.
Here we but peak and dwindle:
The clank of chain and crane,
The whir of crank and spindle
Bewilder heart and brain;
The ends of our endeavour
Are merely wealth and fame,
Yet in the still Forever
We're one and all the same;
Delaying, still delaying,
We watch the fading west:
Come! let us go a-maying,
Nor fear to take the best.
Yet beautiful and spacious
The wise, old world appears.
Yet frank and fair and gracious
Outlaugh the jocund years.
Our arguments disputing,
The universal Pan
Still wanders fluting--fluting--
Fluting to maid and man.
Our weary well-a-waying
His music cannot still:
Come! let us go a-maying,
And pipe with him our fill.
When wanton winds are flowing
Among the gladdening glass;
Where hawthorn brakes are blowing,
And meadow perfumes pass;
Where morning's grace is greenest,
And fullest noon's of pride;
Where sunset spreads serenest,
And sacred night's most wide;
Where nests are swaying, swaying,
And spring's fresh voices call,
Come! let us go a-maying,
And bless the God of all!
1.7k
Strangely induce
By a lovely matron
Instantaneous
Gaiety
While defrayal
Skeptical to various reasons
Which I try to figure
To a woman whom I hardly knew
A smirk that only a whisper can tell
Who is she?
A gracious beauty
Meander misdirection
I pause
Masquerading my persona
She uncovers
Challenges that I arrange with deception
Bewilder
Her magnificent grassroots
How elegantly her friendliness is shrewd?
I am perch
For her liquid perfection
Which cannot be quench
As my throat dries
My language to her will be lost
Dec 7, 2009
Dec 7, 2009 at 1:18 PM UTC
If someone said 1 plus 1 does not equal three,
I would not disagree.
But why does it bewilder me?
No integers add up to 3.
Maybe there is one nominee!
Oh yes it finally hit me!
Whoopie!
Now I shout with Glee!
Zero and Three always add up to Three!
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 11:55 AM UTC
Cataracts in this woven cavity
abstracting any possibilities for those what if stories.
chasing pavements of a burning after glow
you seem to love me better when I expect from you the worst.
Textile appeal becomes a reluctant approval
of what your eyes profess and what your lips have sealed.
Salt on the wounds that resist to heal;
barbarous attempts to suppress those skipping heartbeats.
I do not ask much in return for your favor
not much but a clean look in my eye;
purge out what you **** in
and with all the stories, mercy me-
-Mercy me for irrevocably admiring
your intense appeal and your pretentious heart;
which to whom you play roles of Ares
to only discover Aphrodite's mark.
Mercy me softly and do you not destroy me
far beyond subliminal repair;
Do not bewilder me a wanderer
but mostly, do not condemn my heart to clutter.
Mercy me if your words have any meaning
and your eyes are not of all deceiving; mercy me.
Profess what your eyes confess but your lips have sealed
and mercy my poor heart for loving you so.
Oct 24, 2011
Oct 24, 2011 at 11:55 PM UTC
She sat bewilder and rejected by the world
her hair dreaded clothes torn and stained with time
remains torn
she gazed at me longing
seeking shelter from the storm
the rain poured upon her shoulders
a lost soldier among the scorn
I read into her character
as if the scene were a book
and I thought of all the jackals
who must've shook and took
she sat withered like a flower in the
midst of December
I could tell if left there she'd surely die from
the weather
I was this women and she was me
together we were locked
in mystery wondering
longing
An exchange of a smile
and she was on her knees
begging for a ride a conversation
some relief
my door ajar
welcoming
inviting her into a place of warmth and understanding
motherly I consoled
she was my sister daughter love
she was everyone I ever cared about
trapt in a cardboard box
with a shake of her hand I read her palm
her troubles and despair
I spared some change a ride and empathy
hoping it was enough for her
if I could only save her I'd change her
I'd change the world but for now
I'll fufill my mission
and allow her soul to fufill hers
Dec 6, 2012
Dec 6, 2012 at 12:49 PM UTC
*Fear not my eyes
for they are a sea of happy memories
that will bewilder you renderless
but also an ocean of sadness
that will mute even your sighs
Fear not the pockets of stress
pooling with unbrimmed tears
for there are also golden specs
of laughter and gem stones smiles
Fear not my eyes
for they are the only
windows to see me in*
Jul 22, 2013
Jul 22, 2013 at 10:56 AM UTC
How do I say
How I feel
You're an enigma
I can't fiddle
In this night
Of bewilder
How do we know
When we're really in love?
Sometimes
It's really just a tale
The idea of love
Seems so nice
Where we dance along
Under the northern lights
Eventually the dawn will break
And all will come to fade
The idea of love is sweet and pure
But we forget, the darkness it keeps, demure
It's hard to love
A girl like you
Who builds walls that no one knew
I try to enter but to no avail
Your walls are hard as steel
And after all, I'm just a dill
It takes two hands to clap, you'd say
But why does it always seem
Like a facade
The stars continue to shine
As brightly as ever for you my shrine
You give me some kind of happiness
I can't find
Yet I know it will end some way
This happiness is temporary and forged I'd say
I don't even know if it's true
Disillusioned and in love
Such a thrill
People often see
The things that are dure
And sometimes
Not the things that are pure.
//
Uncertainty creeps up on me
I need a sign, to set me free
All I'm doing is playing games
With my heart and my brain
Show me the way
That's my plea
I hope this illusion
Is not just me
Aug 27, 2013
Aug 27, 2013 at 1:08 PM UTC
The wilted rose falls, and the crow cries for a crimson savior. The dawn brakes the glass under the skin, happily broken, a mess in their favor. To sad to stupid, the dust feeds our lungs, to the roads we take, pushing for a martyr. Iam uncomfortable with this weather, iam uncomfortable with this pleasure. From this sick story makes holes in the air, an empty space left to hold in. Bewilder the sharp tongues and edges for they wander out in the open. Waiting to exploit the prisoned and ****** For i don't control the bird in the cage, i only control whether it lives or dies. And i can't even keep my hands clean sometimes, cuts seeped in filth and end-trail vines. Burdens blaze and feelings decay for our humanity, its like greed wrung dry from the stains of our lives. Another rose falls and only a few fade while the rest of us still need, we still need. For there is never plenty, as long someone still breathes.
Apr 8, 2011
Apr 8, 2011 at 7:38 PM UTC
He gathers tales, sings them for a pittance
Holds peasants spellbound on the brink of fright
With weird myths that bewilder, if one might
See their meaning past the poet's flagrance
But all are in awe of his strange presence
And lend their ears until it is midnight
And the stars start to shine cold, distant, bright
With an ancient sentience, in silence
Come dawn and he leaves, do not dare follow
For this man treads where no mortal can go
To the stars that sired him, he unveils
A vista of a repugnant hollow
Where above all, you hear their great bellow
It is here the Old Ones tell him their tales
Mar 12, 2021
Mar 12, 2021 at 1:09 PM UTC
You want to fight
But I, my angry darling,
I only want to write.
I'll spew out wrathful words and find redemption on the page.
And what will you do?
Where will you go?
Denied a receiver at which to bellow,
Will the bullish screams die within your throat
Before they reach your lips?
Does it bewilder you, how your rage remains unsated?
My reluctance, my refusal to join you in anger games?
Don't you wonder where I go?
I've told you, but you dismissed my refuge with a shrug,
So live with it, find a punchbag or a stressball,
Or better still a friend
On which to offload.
I only want to write
I won't fight you, not tonight.
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 5:30 PM UTC
As I embark/
that spark
within me
pushed to part/
ways
there's a game
of world to see
I had played my part/
and roll
ride the waves/
put I could not stay/
if respect out of order
Or in disarray/
It's ok life's a jour-ney/
From date of birth to gur-ney/
It's what's done in between
Which concerns me/
It's never a matter of
had The skill arrived/
It's only ever a matter of
increments in time/
When I implement my mind/
A new form would've been born
An intricate design/
Simplistically simplified
So that I can convert, traverse
and
Converse between you and I/
This is special
Being here for a limited
Of time/
Even if we no longer talk
Your imprints in mine/
Your DNA my design/
Some where they've aligned/
I've created a monster
A modern day Frankenstein/
It's a live!!!
All In any way
Journeys in mind/
When it's all said and done
They would've done said
He put it all on the line/
Got rich and died trying/
Liken to a shrine/
words Etched instilled
And still willing me/
Willingly although
They tried to bewilder me/
But I'm a wil-der beast/
I was raised via the streets/
Taught by scholars/
Millionaires told me I
Could never touch they dollars/
Untold access to knowledge
To create my wealth/
Fitness gurus helped me
Maintain my health/
Motivated or else/
Elsewhere they didn't help/
Ingredients tools
I didn't know
I could just do it myself/
So I started with Less
With every thing left
to gain/
Literary tales
prevail through the firey flames.
Sep 18, 2016
Sep 18, 2016 at 9:54 PM UTC
Astonish the world with humanity.
Amaze it with acts of kindness.
Stun it with creativity.
Shake it with exceptional ideas.
Bewilder it with compassion.
Astound it with forgiveness.
Reveal to it the best of being.
Surprise it with a soft heart.
Impress it with generosity.
Light it up with optimism.
Guard it against abuse and injustices.
Hussein Dekmak
Dec 6, 2020
Dec 6, 2020 at 8:01 AM UTC
Personal happiness applys a standard to move forward.
On a pessimistic note, as it sets a willful mind off track in fear of mistakes,
separation resets our procrastination entitled to self loath for regrets.
You set yourself up for failure.
As we refrain counting back the steps of recreational substance abuse,
it's just asking for counter clock-wise reenactments.
On a positive note, foreseeing a common continuum of false thoughts that manifest as it resets.
A realization amung the powerless cause a brave forsight continued in conduct
to bewilder a disappointment on a controlled lack of ongoing self destruction.
We have to have enough self respect for selfishness to look what's in front and forget what's behind us.
Help is on the way in a matter of how you portray your feelings.
We control it by a friends mission to seek what's missed.
We get over it, with a mother kiss.
Hope for the best is all we can admit.
Hit or miss, love is in us, as we walk the plank of faith.
Like a prom queens gown that doesn't fit or a stain on a wedding dress.
Our imperfections are what made us perfect.
Lazy skills in double vision cause a second opinion.
We call for an ambulance to cure a broken heart we all get in this lifeless jungle we live in.
When the doctor we call for has nothing but a dollar sign with no intentions for a death wish.
We trust this, "why not? What's the worst that could happen believe me bull ****
Trust me and my degree, but in the first stage of having a healthy baby you learn
to trust a crazy sinerio in a **** testing community.
We are raised in this blind sighted society as walking zombies.
One heart beat turned into separation anxiety.
So I drink beer, as I'm always giving out my writings, like a discount on sale.
Like a kitten we pet, I share them and do nothing with it.
I wonder why I feel what I have to say means nothing like a decoration.
When my friends truly relate, with a bottle in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other.
I don't know what to do with them in the end of a conversation.
I will say I like what I have to say, but it's just that it goes nowhere.
Just me adding a another selfless crime to reset our minds of how we read in between the lines.
Jul 15, 2011
Jul 15, 2011 at 4:11 PM UTC
I thought I’d teach them some looking. the well’s bucket I was careful to quietly lower. I meant to halve the rope with my tied legs and arms, to bewilder it with hugging. I saw myself do it twice before I gave three. the dark above me seemed jealous of the dark below; my long hair took on a glitter of crickets but would not be led away. I waited for my name to sound its foreign bid but instead heard only the silently local. I could see the bucket if I closed my eyes; and it, me, in my puny dress. when my feet began their sleep they were napped in by circus water. how cheered I would be for slipping.
yet it was another took audience- I made the junkyard breathless; my fingers already forgetting to stay their swollen proofs. I called her name with the others, she whose own fingers had cleared the closing of a refrigerator’s door and so would not be found in a lesser hiding place alive and ******* a knuckle. I strayed to my brother’s punishment for inappropriate play- a scene with his therapist saying one can’t die from nothing. there has to be something. my brother having his hands pinned to his knees for covering his ears. his therapist wishing he were someone else and someone else him.
Jul 6, 2012
Jul 6, 2012 at 11:58 AM UTC
Everyday I live the world gets smaller
the numerous things that I vowed begin to vary
and in this ever shrinking world there remain many tunnels
tunnels that can bless and unviel, dizzy and tire and betray
Everyday I lift my eyes and witness just a little more
I see the depth in a human heart greater
and in stupor,
watch all the minute props that fill these spaces
spaces that can
mend and refresh,
scar and bewilder
I see the small things that matter
Everyday I live my passion grows stronger
The day I learn to take joy for nothing
Will be the day I discover something
That everyday I live my heart grows
I feel my heart grow one way or another
Everyday we live our hearts may grow larger
or harder
the first taunts the latter
so remember to fight for a heart grown larger
Everyday I fall and return from the dust stronger
the dirt is brittle and with time is cleansed
I beckon my heart to make amends
so as not to let it end
I learn to make a mile stretch farther
because everyday I live the world gets smaller
Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 4:13 PM UTC