"bidden" poems
Oh to wander down country lanes
Where ‘shank’s pony’ is the mode
By which one travels from end to end
Beating off the open road.
Willow-herb and cow parsley
Grow tall against the hedge
Where dandelions behave like kings
Growing wild among the sedge.
A toad pops out and then pops back
To long grass where he’s hidden
Where birds will sing a merry song
And ducklings scurry when bidden.
For these few hours you forget the world
And you feel at peace with yourself
But the lure back to your reality
Gets this dream returned to the shelf.
©JRW2014
Mar 29, 2014
Mar 29, 2014 at 4:53 PM UTC
As the shape all sun
tore up the curtain
of blood and ululation,
everything in Tunisia,
as stricken by a wand,
came to a standstill,
and slipped away
from the senses -
Even rivers stopped.
Medjerda* froze
halfway
through the descent
to his destination,
as he realized
he’d been making a fatal error:
pouring forth all his passion
into the ocean.
So he stopped,
retracted his course,
re-collected himself,
and started flowing backward,
toward
the source
in the Atlas
that had bidden him
farewell.
In his spear head
there was a design:
start a new chaos
in the valley,
in which there would be
a sweet-water lake
and sailors drunk
with sunbeams, sweat
and pleasure.
Butterflies would flutter
around the scent of mint
and bluegreen rosemary.
Sweet Moon to Sweet Lake
would come, unannounced,
In the rays of the nightlight
of the fluttering night
to watch her self
shoot
the scene
of representation.
The river, now swimming
in his own water,
carried the sky on his shoulder,
while an ant and a grasshopper,
holding a basket together,
watched the new scene.
As the figure all sun appeared ,
reason melted;
imagination
her hazel eyes opened.
*Medjerda is the most important river in Tunisia. Length, 460 km; basin area, 22,000 sq km. It flows out of the Atlas mountains into the Gulf of Tunis.
© LazharBouazzi, June 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 1:35 PM UTC
As the shape-all-sun
tore up the curtain
of blood and ululation,
everything in Tunisia,
as stricken by a wand,
came to a standstill,
and slipped away
from the senses -
Even rivers stopped.
Medjerda* froze
halfway
through his descent
to his destination,
as he realized
he’d been making a fatal error:
pouring forth all his passion
into the ocean.
So he stopped,
retracted his course,
re-collected himself,
and started flowing backward,
toward
the source
in the Atlas
that had bidden him
farewell.
In his spear head
there was a design:
start a new chaos
in the valley,
in which there would be
a sweet-water lake
and sailors drunk
with sunbeams, sweat
and pleasure.
Butterflies would flutter
around the scent of mint
and bluegreen rosemary.
Through the flutter
of the midnight hour
Sweet Moon to Sweet Lake
would come, unannounced,
to watch her self shooting
the act of representation.
Now swimming
in his own water,
th river
carried the sky on his shoulder,
while an ant and a grasshopper,
holding a basket together,
watched the new scene.
As the figure-all-sun appeared ,
reason melted;
imagination
her hazel eyes opened.
© LazharBouazzi
*Medjerda is the most important river in Tunisia. Length, 460 km; basin area, 22,000 sq km. It flows out of the Atlas mountains into the Gulf of Tunis.
Feb 16, 2017
Feb 16, 2017 at 1:19 PM UTC
The man behind the curtain
Speaking loud and certain
His image twisted and blurred
Larger than life
His armies and might
Imperialism is what he prefers
The little people do his bidden
On the senate floor of Oz
With pockets full
Of yellow brick gold
Their children live like gods
While those outside the castle
Have fallen fast to sleep
Trekking through the ***** field
Light upon their feet
The witches rise
On the centrist floor
The Wizard of Trump
Will have four more
Where are the ruby slippers
For it's time to go home
There's no place like...
Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 7:39 AM UTC
We're all human here, right?
Why, then, is my side, most human,
Something bidden I hide?
---
Mockings chant their mocking things,
Swinging from the hinges of reality.
While, sneers and jeers born from,
Overgrown fears,
Leave small ****** in my ripe heart -
Unceasingly.
At the door, my mind assured me, go,
And my feet, those dumb things, did listen.
Went right into havoc,
Wreaked solely by tragic,
Souls, so pathetic, I can't even stand it.
Who's ripping up my soul so darkly,
Save, me and the audience I've made?
Surely, the swift-sounding people,
With valiant battles to battle -
Are too busy to waste time at the gallows.
You dug the hole,
And jumped right on in,
I merely picked up the shovel,
And finished it.
Though, now, my heart aches,
So red and opaque,
Curse you,
For doing you in.
07.2011
Jul 17, 2011
Jul 17, 2011 at 11:18 PM UTC
Awake! Awake! for the earliest gleam
Of golden sunlight shines
On the rippling waves, that brightly flow
Beneath the flowering vines.
Awake! Awake! for the low, sweet chant
Of the wild-birds' morning hymn
Comes floating by on the fragrant air,
Through the forest cool and dim;
Then spread each wing,
And work, and sing,
Through the long, bright sunny hours;
O'er the pleasant earth
We journey forth,
For a day among the flowers.
Awake! Awake! for the summer wind
Hath bidden the blossoms unclose,
Hath opened the violet's soft blue eye,
And awakened the sleeping rose.
And lightly they wave on their slender stems
Fragrant, and fresh, and fair,
Waiting for us, as we singing come
To gather our honey-dew there.
Then spread each wing,
And work, and sing,
Through the long, bright sunny hours;
O'er the pleasant earth
We journey forth,
For a day among the flowers.
3k
Love is always praised into the heavens
But never is a tale spoken in which hatred truly prevails,
For those creatures who have nothing but it left seem so lost,
Is this the price they are taking, or must this be a farewell ?
Alike love, hate can give strengh but also great misery,
For those who have lost the access to light it is but an embrace,
Because for them the heart was made to be broken,
Eventually though, through all odds they find their way, despising what they formerly had done, had felt and had acted.
This side of the story remains lonesome,
The light of love is for all to bear in the end,
But the embrace of hatred is undesired as if it was cursed,
Just because the darkness made an attempt to protect their minds,
An outcast who was left behind, who was undefended,
Bidden farewell the shadows of night give in to the sunrays
Another night ends in defeat.
~ Umi
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 4:30 PM UTC
His Spirit in smoke ascended to high heaven.
His father, by the cruelest way of pain,
Had bidden him to his ***** once again;
The awful sin remained still unforgiven.
All night a bright and solitary star
(Perchance the one that ever guided him,
Yet gave him up at last to Fate's wild whim)
Hung pitifully o'er the swinging char.
Day dawned, and soon the mixed crowds came to view
The ghastly body swaying in the sun
The women thronged to look, but never a one
Showed sorrow in her eyes of steely blue;
And little lads, lynchers that were to be,
Danced round the dreadful thing in fiendish glee.
2.4k
Wide-open smile
delicate
child’s heart
Divine
trust
Given
Unknown far
bidden.
Mother-figure
Destiny feature
Infinity’s Keeper
broke One Heart.
Spirit bright
Eternal Light
hosts innocence bid
endures moment
silent torture
breaks
integral being.
Survives tide
feather in flight
footprints uncover
test seal.
Broken yet not defeated
reclaims Right.
Notion fights
Love
Lives
Sep 16, 2010
Sep 16, 2010 at 8:26 PM UTC
A LIFE TORN APART
When I first peeped into the world, I deemed it fit for the growth of my
miniature. When I peeped again, I trembled with disbelieving eyes at the
emergent live labyrinth that stood staring; but then, can an opinion change
an existence? Maybe, just maybe
As our mother packed and left, our father drove away. We remained hidden in
desolate souls. We were striked with a giant of a being called sustenance,
which dwelt in providence. Sincerely our begetters ought to have thought of
our brilliant futures. We deserved a life, to run the race towards academic
heights
Just the other day I overheard, my hemophilic father tying the famous knot
with a fellow MAN. Then I thought, what would become of my ego? Would I
walk with MY head held high facing other heterosexually raised colleagues?
Would I even get the strength to chase after the big price? I think not
As I grew up, I hoped for an illuminated course. Now I walk in converging
paths. After my fore-bearers kicked their ***** apart, I sobbed after my
dressed mother, they say. But who could have thought that I would turn into
a walking stone?
Walking through streets in search of well-wishers, I wished my parents had
held onto their existence. She blamed it on lewdness while he held it all
upon the mistake of an early pregnancy. Was I born unwanted? Was I smuggled
into this existence? I cease to think about it.
As a student, I thought my father’s charm the way to go. As a child, my
mother’s “generosity” to male neighbors elated me. Now as a parent to be I
think, what would my apprehended seed think of my responsibilities? Will I
be faced by delinquency? I thought the rod could do a lot to effect
change. It never did on me. Maybe I ought to mind the examples that I was
given not.
With my Progenitor bidden by the feared misfortune, I still sink in the
memories of my father, taken away by the same old grabber, HIV/AIDS. How I
hate you HIV….I beseech thee to move away from me. I promise my dear life;
that I will always run against the traffic. I will ensure I entangle myself
not, in a creased heart and walk with head held high. With the hope of
giving my bairm, the kind of life that I always wanted
Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 8:43 AM UTC
a plain poem (the first time I came in you)
a plain poem, light and effervescent, a flim-flan tasting,
plein de absurde rimes, full of nonsensical rhymes,
a lattice of criss crossing pastry sugary lines, the ones,
cannot, struggle to deduce, induce, reduce
from my constipated vocabulary
oh well
~
*the first time I came in you,
entered, bidden welcome,
suffused a bridge between
the party of the first part,
the party of the second part,
sugar lightness airy nonsense,
two spirits dancing the singular
pas de deux of their finite lives,
a performance unbeatable,
unrepeatable,
lost to the perfection annals
Shockingly, Surprisingly, Summarily,
did not compose an ode,
don't mine a new vein of ore,
even write a plain poe poem
as best can recall,
at the candle melting of the
sealing wax of the deal,
gave an honest speech,
instantly falling fast asleep
with nary a grunted word
ever since l,
cannot write of plain love plainly,
so she makes me pay with a
new living elegant elegy daily,
a quatrain, what a pain,
this iambic panting meter
love poem writing
jeez louise,
how I wish could write of
roses red and violets blue,
get back to sleep,
oh well then,
back to work
got to make those sad moans,
hers, go away,
so please excuse me
near ten years later,
still paying the dues of the
initializing error of my way
she rumbles-mumbles in her
pre-awakening dream state,
so please excuse, got to go, think up
some implicated complicated
verses to soothe away
her simple poorly hidden anxieties
you see,
I am happy paying
on and on,
writing like the devil furious,
she is stirring, coffee soon,
cafe au lait
if you get my meaning,
but still cannot beat,
repeat, re-alive
that simple plain living poem notated,
when first I came in her*
<•;)
9/24/17 6:49am ~7:17am
Sep 24, 2017
Sep 24, 2017 at 7:29 AM UTC
why and how should you know?
behind beneath in between the teeth
my fingerprint whorls and whirls
under other's names and
my secret identities
a word a phrase a hatchet a blade a
pruning knife,
a confession of confusion,
relieved by my cutting saves.
my stamp secreted my ***** implanted
my style unseen yet bidden,
my name hidden, my children born
but still is my heart,
like the parent that
has given up the child.
but you love my
screamed and un screamed, and my undoing of
the doing you not see me named
nature in paces and means
admit pleasure at my scrivinings
there but for the grace of whom
but to me
for am I but the
editor
o'er my bones that
*nobody knows
nobody sees,
nobody knows,
but me^
you tread,
crunching my invisibility
to smoke and smithereens,
the pimple on the poem
lifeless turned luscious,
yet, gnome gone the next day
Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 11:25 PM UTC
For the past few months
Our great nation has experienced great tragedies
But we didn't turn out to be sloths
Though our fates are still bidden
As the brumous weather draws near
A hirareth comes with fear
But the spirit of Christmas gets warmer
The yuletide becomes louder
It's about time to heed this very call
We must stand up for the good of all
It cradles an ambiguous thought
Which the human hear long sought
In this form of literature
I hope to inspire the people of this nation, to understand its nature
And start effecting some changes
To seek out the strangest,
To venture the wilderness of the lost peace & harmony
And restore this country's prosperity
In this season, may we stop all forms of quarrels
For we are no rebels
Of this glorious season
That brings joy to me with a great reason
This Christmas is a grandiose season
Let us stop every kind of treason
Let us set aside all our hard feelings
That has been harboured in our hearts
Let this Christmas be different
Let this be the time when we relent
Let this be the Christmas when we share
Everything that we may share for this season is rare
It's Christmas time
We share not just a dime
Even prayers for our fellowmen
And joy for all men
Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 9:16 AM UTC
So this is the spine:
The cover is made of the songs you played
The blank pages carries the shadows of the time that passed by
I've sewed it with memories that stuck
You are gone; I am hurt
I've got a brand new cookbook
Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 12:06 AM UTC
I Am the burning candle of my
own vigil.
The night of my ignorance is
long...though hope lie beyond
me, I Am not beyond it.
My center is perfect, my
circumference is boundless
freedom.
What needs knowing shall be
known, what needs forgetting
shall be forgotten...there is
absolutely no hurry.
There's no time to be bidden,
only this timeless vigil burning
in degrees of clarity.
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 10:24 AM UTC
As blind as a bat
I don't know where I am going.
Such stygian and gloomy darkness
I pray to see dissolved.
Two heavenly hands the torch
of eternal light will suddenly snap on.
The Alpha and the Omega
In the pool of Siloam, the mud out of my eyes
I am bidden to now wash
I was blind, but now I see
The Way, the Truth and the Light
I was lost, but now I am found.
I have found Eternal life.
I have found my Savior.
© Sofia Kioroglou
Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 10:35 AM UTC
A vessel that soars high and strong
Bearing all burdens,even the wrong
Through storms wrought even in hell
She floats by, a resilient shell
Many a man,bore her grudge
Naught one a worthy judge
She be the sea's maiden
Where countless souls wander, bidden
Cloudy nights may cover her way
Countless rains, her heart may sway
Trust is her holy grail
Those with, she protects even frail
She asks naught much for return
Just passion, a zealous burn
Her crew are of many places
It matters not their faces
She does not judge them
All are good graces, their bonds a gem
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 8:23 AM UTC
Spacemen, cavorting, ridiculous jollity,
Fuzzing stars buzzing in the fabric
Space-time, folding, holding on
Spin, seven, nine, four,
Okay,
Just try to hold on.
Spinning lights flee by feeling
Hurry on Sunday
Slow
Circles.
Why? Why?
Why?
Why? Why?
You have no air.
You didn’t listen.
You had a warning…
Strap yourselves into the spin
Dazed and conned
Fused into your seat
Dancing in madness
Whistles, flutes and shakers
Unsettle your
Muted rhythm.
We sing for blessed distortion
Then drop away
Away
Who did
and
Why?
Why? Oh, God…
Bridge.
Wonder threw four bidden streets
and re-jet, the Prince Palls,
Ash on faced the walls.
Bridge.
Why? Why?
Why?
Why? Why?
Causes her arm.
Cause is her harm.
Cause is arm.
Arms are the cause of her harm.
Then-
Bridge.
Then-
Begin again…
You should not have done that.
Feb 15, 2012
Feb 15, 2012 at 5:03 AM UTC
He worships me
As a goddess of health and cleanliness
Hygieia his hygieia
My beloved Hippocrates how are you love me so
And how I love you so
I wish we could be united as moral and goddess but our love is for bidden and we can all unite but in secret
Come to my temple of healing and all of you as I see fit
My beloved physician
Dec 20, 2020
Dec 20, 2020 at 9:28 PM UTC
On Birthday
Wake up, my shining pearl!
The moon has bidden adieu.
You are such a lovely girl,
The god can't help loving you.
Wake up, my little sparrow!
The day is fresh and new.
Take yourself out of sorrow.
Everyone is waiting for you.
Hello, the chaos will ensue,
Dear, if you avoid them all.
They are dying to see you
Since the previous nightfall.
S. Bharat
Apr 18, 2019
Apr 18, 2019 at 7:30 AM UTC
Life's an illusion.
A facade of actions.
So to sleep, I'm bidden.
And from friends I hasten,
Towards self-destruction.
I think.
I feel.
And yet it all seems unreal.
I blink.
I breathe.
But beneath, turmoil seethes.
The brink,
I face.
And failing, to repose I race.
I shrink.
I shun.
But it's from myself I run.
I sink.
I rend.
And into oblivion I descend.
Dec 24, 2009
Dec 24, 2009 at 12:08 PM UTC
Riding by the upturned glen
forever chaste
she rarely stopped for gasping men
wan and waste
but riding and ridden
she flew into the trees
seductively bidden
parted her knees
and enveloped by sighs
she opened her thighs.
Oct 27, 2017
Oct 27, 2017 at 5:29 PM UTC
The old man walks down the street
Cobbled and uneven
Bent over against the cold
Of this the winter season
With the aid of a stick he navigates
The badly rutted lane
Deeply etched grooves line his face
From surviving in constant pain
In his head his thoughts are in
A constant random wander
Precious moments of his life
Lost in contemplative squander
'Tis his daily chore bestowed
On him to buy the bread
To fail in this a simple task
Would bring war down on his head
Reaching the store he enters
Hiding from pitiful stares
Head downcast he makes his way
To the shelf of required wares
His basket full he makes his way
To the counter to pay his bill
Purchases paid, he turns to leave
Praying his shopping not to spill
As he leaves the store he hears
The whispers behind his back
"Why does he keep on doing it?"
His drooping shoulders slack
Once outside he hurries
Scurries back from whence he came
As fast as his arthritic legs will take him
An added burden is his shame
Back to his eternal prison
The place he once called home
Never left to his own devices
Perchance he should choose to roam
His wife is standing waiting
For him at the front door
Her face twisted in roiling anger
Her venom over him to pour
A nasty piece of work is she
No patience for his age acquired senility
Treating him like a mongrel dog
With waves of open hostility
So sad to see this once young man
Who has seen life and so much more
Reduced to being a bidden slave
And forced to daily chore
How life can be so cruel and fate
Play the meanest of all tricks
Just by choosing a wrong life mate
Be caught in constant conflicts
Yet day after day he continues
To walk the road of shame
For go he must and listen he does
For the woman who bears his name
Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 12:24 PM UTC
Hello, Nightmare.
It seems our paths are linked, for a time,
and I shall endure your company so long as you endure mine.
But withhold your persuasion, to pervade my conscious mind
lest my fears suffer inflation and your motives shall unwind.
Keep your nature hidden, or subtle at the most.
To adherence you are bidden, or seek you a new host.
I'll settle for the ******* of a parasitic ghost
for I am short of comrades and parsimony lost
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 7:47 PM UTC
Asleep by a river
In tidal eclipse.
Girl with straw hair
And strawberry lips.
Placid.
As the afternoon sun.
Her dreams are of scarlet
And barely begun.
I do not know why
She rests here on my bank.
Her time would be brief
She told this me frank.
But here she lays bidden.
Shut up with her eyes
Where mine look with longing
To cacophonous skies.
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 9:46 AM UTC