"braveheart" poems
I love petrichor ;
The way that seconds after the first few
drops start falling ;
The scent of Ozone fills the air .
I love the smell of fall,
The beauty of trees showing us that you can still shed bits of you that have died... Yet still be beautiful.
I love the sound of my nieces laugh;
The way it steadily always brings me back
to earth durning chaos ,
Reminding me to be joyful.
I love the ocean.
How beautiful is it from the surface ;
Knowing no one will ever see all the beauty
That lurks beneath the depths.
I love seeing peoples faces describing
The person they love.
Their features change , they
Become alive .
I love coffee, and my dog, and my tiny feet, and whiskey, and sportscenter, and lime popsicles. I love sleeping in ,and watching Braveheart . I love love, and i love living .
What do you love.
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 6:53 PM UTC
Through the serpentine path
Concealed from prying eyes
Walks the courageous heart
Towards a destination unknown
Numerous fangs, ready to bite
To inject the venomous intent
And incapacitate the heart
Seeking the unachievable
The braveheart dodges hurdles
Stares down fear itself
Arduous journey takes its toll
Small sacrifice to reach the pinnacle
Where none have been before
Will be written in folklore
Valiant one who walked the path
None dared to tread before
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 11:15 AM UTC
Lonely wanderings
Holding hands with the wind
Flying away to distant lands
Over the mountains and seas
So many questions does arise
A silent reprise of my music
None, but these ears are tuned
A braveheart’s sojourn unknown
Here for a tryst with soliloquy
Answers from the heart and soul
A new journey awaits the wanderer
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 10:50 PM UTC
‘Apocalypto’ is a film set in a Maya civilisation and consists of a story that takes place in one tribe and how a passing tribe affects them to a degree of destruction. The story unfolds in a linear way of storytelling which is basic but still effective. From director Mel Gibson, the director of ‘Braveheart’ and ‘Passion of the Christ’. An underrated director of sorts but a great one nonetheless. Overlooked due to his acting career, he has been holding back on us as a director.
The characters are set to be living a Mayan life and go about their days behaving as such but are rather generous and civilized for such an old race of people. They live peacefully and secluded until they interact with another tribe which brings about their downfall. And the way in which a Mayan civilization might go about solving problem as common as a natural disaster. Through sacrifices to the God's as a way to solve problems and mass results. Very accurate to the Mayan culture as well as the entire movie taking place without one word of English, all dialogue being said in the Mayan language. Another credit to the film.
The directing style for this film is beautiful and flawless to say the least. No shaky cam used or hand held cam either. All fluent movement of the camera to create a great story, one that flows naturally. The use of camera angles is creative and different, using tilted angles to convey a certain mood and straight framed shots to convey another mood.
The performances stand out as a huge positive, the actors who I have honestly never heard of give Oscar worthy performances. Mel Gibson uses unknown actors as not to compromise the film by the status of the actors. These actors and actresses give a hard performance based on body language and quiet moments, the enduring task of learning to be emotional through a foreign language. Which is why I would guess Mel Gibson used local actors who are more aware of the Mayan language than American actors.
The set design is truly Oscar worthy in this film. The Mayan temples and tribe lands are captured perfectly in the sets for this film. Well build and suited towards the amazon environment. As well as good filming locations, using the wonders of the amazon rainforest as an advantage.
In final thoughts, I believe that Mel Gibson is a stunning director with an eye for detail and a beautiful visual director. A director that can produce great work. ‘Apocalypto’ to me in the near future will become a period piece masterpiece. A tale of survival and dedication that will live on through the ages.
Rating: Film - 8.4
Personal - 8.9
Sep 29, 2016
Sep 29, 2016 at 12:02 PM UTC
[Fanfare, obviously]
This poem should begin with the call of a bugle,
as is fitting for an ode of Braveheart Macdougal.
Children of Parklands, take heed and be wary,
as I relate now, in verse, a tale cautionary.
Benigna Murdie was a most virtuous lass,
blesséd with promise and a penchant for sass.
To peer pressure she was admirably immune,
and ne'er did she bow to the temptation of goon.
Nary a drop of ***** has e'er passed her lips,
save for politeness and church-mandated sips.
Yet even the mightiest fall-- what a pity!
(harder than I did that night in the city).
So I hope you all glean a moral from this,
and your interpretation does not go too amiss.
But all is self-evident, to quote Descartes,
so allow me to recount this tale from the start.
She hails from a country renown for their piety,
for their pacifist ways and universal sobriety.
The Scottish are known throughout the land
for their temperance of character and lightness of hand.
And our poor Bennigles was no rule-exception,
she subscribed quite wholly to this perception.
A more reserved and reclusive girl you've not seen,
virtually a saint at only nineteen.
Passed out on the couch, liquor was never the root,
only strain from the studying and academic pursuit.
A paradigm of virtue, a pillar of purity,
no “that's-what-she-said's” to compromise maturity.
But that all changed one day touched by fate,
when Rachel realized that hedonism's great.
She took to the streets to revel in her glee,
and legit nothing bad happened cause this isn't tv.
Alas, now I'm drunk and the screen is a-shaking,
perhaps of wine I should halt my partaking.
I cannot continue with this facetious ode,
as we all well know that this is a total load.
But I'll miss you, my Brit, and our shitshow nights,
our Australian exploits and your culinary delights.
Sorry I couldn't finish to detail your demise,
but perhaps I'll conclude after an Australia-reprise.
Feb 13, 2013
Feb 13, 2013 at 6:20 AM UTC
.*i can think of one cool job... a nighttime DJ on a radio station... anything more cool than being a DJ between the hours 12am through to 5am? honestly... can't think of a cooler job... all the song requests are gone from the classical.fm show between 3pm and 5pm... now one is telling you what to do... **** me... as a kid... either a veterinarian, or an owner of a music shop... now? an insomniac DJ... they would never play Christopher Young's Something to Think About in the afternoon... sorry... i'm a Hellraiser cult-follower of the first two movies... and that song? why? i just can't be bothered with listening to that Braveheart over-scratched Song of / for a Princess... it's good... once in a while... but, come, on!*
just one of those nights...
having listened to the scoops
from the alternative...
worried your to hell
about not having *******
enough concerning
the previous day's load
which would make the pleasures
of **** *** look tame...
perched on a windowsill -
solving a sudoku -
and listening to
Frank Zappa's occam's razor...
and wishing:
making sure it was never
hot in the city
by Billy Idol,
or Kiss' crazy nights
to usher in the night,
and the watchman...
why?
it's not your standard
guitar solo...
it's a medley...
big difference...
guitar solos are bound to
a strict return to the rhythm
section...
they are caged beasts...
composed of a restricted
time constrain in a song...
but a guitar medley?
**** me...
it's what obliterates
a need for vocals...
the guitar medley is
the vocals substitute...
and that aspect of music?
mm... gummy bears...
jelly in the knees...
which is why i like
the fact that jazz is the antithesis
of classical music symphony...
sure... i get the Schubert / Schumann
piano duets...
nice...
but jazz?
the breakdown of the quintet?
**** let me count...
piano, drums...
bass... horn... sax...
yep, a quintet...
that moment in a jazz
song? where each instrument
player gets his solo?
genius!
the same with a guitar medley...
neither solo,
nor the rhythm section...
what a beautiful opening
to what i expect to be,
a beautiful night:
as the watchman once said.
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 6:34 PM UTC
Braveheart, you are my Braveheart
Take me in your arms
You are my Braveheart
Fighting so we can be free
Fighting for our dignity
Fighting for the truth and then
We can go and live again
Fighting for the way that's right
Fighting for our truth at night
Fighting up until the dawn
He won't stop until he's won
This is where he's going to start
This is my one true Braveheart
Braveheart, you are my Braveheart
Hold me in your arms
You are my Braveheart
Braveheart, you are my Braveheart
Hold me in your arms
You are my Braveheart
Dec 31, 2012
Dec 31, 2012 at 10:20 PM UTC
Jeweled.. map... talk
Wipe her... teardrops...
He summoned her
Braveheart
"The Hipster" starry eye
Commando Chief
Trampled the hot item
help!!
* * * *
Rubies in the Paradox
Pep-talk thief Fox
* * * * *
Red Rhapsody
Hey, Buster, on the
Tip of the "Ice Queen"
"King Speech"
Her lips
Practice what your eyes
Preach whats inside his lips
Lip marooned force
Afterfight doomed
"Divorce"
He tapped took a bite
So vamp lit her lip
Apple stumbles
Mr. Cobbler
Lips got caught to be
crumbled
Clicks movie flicks
* * * *
Physiological College of chicks
On her Demon laptop lovesick
Sisters of the Sentinel
Fingers clicking like quicksand
Ancient lips touch the shadow
Of his smile
Does anyone have a
soft spot for Angels
The psychotic broken wing on the verge
The lip pledge Demon
Give him a shot lip
bullet glass
"Red Electricity" he smiled
Certain lip she deserved
The floppy disk
Sweet breath
His baking whisker's
Those baby boomers
Top of the lip rumors
the right kiss
"Emmy" Jet set trips
Their chattering lips
Niagara falls duty calls
"Lip Shoutbox"
Her lips touched on
A nerve
schemingly
He blew up like the
Cherry bomb we will
succumb dreamily
Could blow his
lips down
How she wore the
red velvet bustier
A+ lip magnet
He's the connoisseur
La Luna melancholy
"The World Is Dying"
No apology
The symphony in line
With the lip up
His chin down is lying
But when your smiling
A poem knows what your
lips are saying
Are you in way too deep
Lips like cold cuts the
paparazzi mob sheep
The movie cut Deli line
Race her the Italian
Mazzaratti be mine
Demon jungle no plain
Jane's lips
Hurry up your highness
lost his taste for goodness
Do angels die her lips went___?
Angel confession another
revelation
One lie please "I am the Angel"
we never live to die
Feb 7, 2019
Feb 7, 2019 at 8:05 AM UTC
the silence never bothered me before-
quiet between two so intertwined
is not uncomfortable like the silence
it is merely absence of sound
-but it bothers me now
all but consuming my mind
and i say nothing
and you say nothing
and everywhere there is nothing
i pray for the radio to work its charm
with those magic changes
give me a song to sing
give me anything
that would be better than this
small talk between two so intertwined
"you're awfully quiet," you say
and i say nothing
because my right brain has a lot to say
but my left brain knows not to say it
i want to say, "i know that you don't want me here"
the thought, clear like perfectly formed ice,
echoes through my mind:
(i know that you don't want me here,
i know that you don't want me here...)
somehow that is the one thing worse than
the deafening silence
because it's the truth
and we both know it
i want to scream, "can't you see i'm hurting?"
it's written all over my face
in smiles that don't reach my eyes
in lips joined in vowed silence
"i miss you," you say
and i say nothing
but i want to be the braveheart
and cry something bold, like
"if that is so then
how come when i'm here
your face is illuminated
by a phosphorescent glow?"
but i hold my tongue
i know my thoughts are wicked
yet they are my thoughts
and i say nothing
and you say nothing
and the silence says everything
Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 2:28 PM UTC
Now,
We are mellow.
Having spent the evening exploring the threads of friendship.
That had come adrift of warp, weft and weave.
Time and distance had
silks, snag-tagged-torn,
on the bustling-busy,
hectic-hustling of work
and family.
Teasing-taunt,
needle-gnawing,
small, gap-rip-rents
in the snug comforter
that is... the wonder of us.
Us, so many secrets woven. So many, nights of tissues and sobbing tears.
Darning in daring exploits. Cutting away knotted,
fear-angry-scream-fighting feuds.
Cutting work, for days of delight and nights of desperate yearning.
We used anything at hand, rough wools, pieces of string and twines.
To weave a blanket,
to hide us from life's storms.
We were,
so young, so strong, recklessly-brash,
stupidly-joyous
and braveheart-fools.
And now, time and age,
has softened our work. Felted and fuse-melded,
the fibres into a beautiful entity.
That we store-save in the heart's cupboard,
of special and precious things.
It is an heirloom of sorts.
We bring it out,with occasional, humble-grace,
to be dandled and stroked with reverence.
Caressed and cossetted are our memories held within the abstract weave.
We are the dwindling
of a youthful exuberance
flung-thrown-heaved
to the wild winds.
So now, we are grateful to be curator-custodians of the retrospective nature
as we augment-append
and reiterate-repair.
A new thread here,
now,
embellish-embroider,embed
and tatt-stitch.
My son and your twin girls, squeezed, splashing
into your tiny bathtub
big-grin-giggling in the gurgling water.
Our future, here and now,
is the brightest of silks,
Our past, mellow and yielding in,
the luminent opulence,
angelically-asleep in,
the other room.
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 6:30 AM UTC
To hate is to feel strong
but to be weak
to love is to be strong
but to feel weak
I looked in the mirror
afraid to sneak a peek
expected a coward
but behold there stood a lion!
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 9:32 PM UTC
She
so___- she
And__ He__ so
Never ending
She Comma
Do-So
Shop to Soho
Electronics
Like a Saint
Satanic's
His or hers
Nic's and Pix
Never the end
If so_______
Yes Sir
The math flame
Password
To end the
dating game
Hot green
tip
pistachios
Like the long sentence_____,
Your
Nephews
He was
Huh? ,
So compelled
to be sentenced
The time
treacherous
Was so long
At that end is
where
you
belong
Column
his
comma
She comma
Prima Donna
Oh! Donna
A love
should
be in
the
moment
Too
many
Dots?plots/whatnots
You forgot
semicolumn
The head page
Semi-sweet
column
End chair
Kingdom
Knock on wood
Getting
splinters
He used
Plastic
condoms
Braveheart Lion
Twisted sisters
I was
at the
very end
Wella
She -Comma____
The money
Higher up
Society Brianna
Barcelona Cafes
Giraffe ladies
boisterous
drama
Begin now
The beginning
Never met her
middle-section
Which breed?
She-comma
She could
make
Anyone's
bad heart
Drug fix well
The good
heart
Should be ended
Dead end____&
the
morgue
Her long tongue
All She__ Rouge
The question mark
All parts dots here and?
What is
next!!!
You hear
the ring you jump
Off the cliff
the text
Meet me
greet him
Chances
are
never
The front
It was
a front
Fine print
you
could
see
Smitten
written deed
And
left her
money
Heavenly
bliss
This
paper
kiss
Did you
miss
Her
signature,
Never a
good gesture
She-devil
Comma,
Never good
ending
movie
Feature
Never ending
Please visit
and come back
Do I need your opinion?
.,, ... ??
May 11, 2018
May 11, 2018 at 9:22 AM UTC
There he is.
Lying on the ground.
Alone in the cold, waiting to be found.
He's oblivious to the cries, the terror, the hate,
oblivious to his slowing heart rate.
The hard earth beneath is slipping away.
Death is doing its all to make him pay.
For how dare he not cry out in fear?
How dare he smile when death is near?
Yet his resolve is solid, intact and pure.
His sacrifice is his pride, his nectar, his cure.
The bullets that tore his body apart,
left untouched his mind, his heart.
Flooded with tales of his homeland's wins,
He's overcome with emotion as he thinks of long gone sins.
His lips curl into a contended smile,
his thoughts are away by many a mile.
In the jaws of death, his mind on his nation,
His soul is adrift in obvious celebration.
For what way to die is better than this?
Giving life for your country is such a bliss.
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 1:12 AM UTC
The night is a deep well:
stalks fall and echoes resound
as if out of an abyss.
Flash a lamp in, lose the light.
Braveheart awake in the late hour,
is there a solution to anything?
Events unfold; Always unplanned.
Reason an afterthought.
Still we dream. Dreams dreamed
all night, for a newer dawn.
To achieve something, something
that can make me more than you.
Are you cut out for that yarn yard?
Who decides when
a weakling mortal
breaks out of fatal space?
Flash a lamp in, lose the light!
Stalks fall and echoes resound
as if out of an abyss.
The night is a deep well.
Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 9:34 AM UTC
My Time has not yet arrived,
So I'm staying a bit Longer.
My Health has not yet cracked,
perhaps I'm a little bit Stronger.
My Mind still keeps on ticking
and it's sharp....as it can Be.
I've so many things, yet to Do.
For now, I'm a Sailor out at Sea.
My Life keeps on turning,
like the Pages of a Book.
But the Time has not yet come.
For Life to hang Me on a Hook.
I'm wary of the Silent Storm.
That may hit Me during the Night.
I'll fight it like a Braveheart.
Until the Dying Light.
Aug 1, 2023
Aug 1, 2023 at 4:44 AM UTC
You kind of have this weird hate-love relationship with life and humanity.
Why don’t you just choose love?
Choose kindness.
Choose optimism.
Choose to do the work now.
Choose to jump in head first.
Choose to “Braveheart it”.
Choose to be prepared.
Choose to smile.
Choose happy.
It’s so crazy how just making a choice can change your life.
It is just as easy to be kind and happy as it is to be a total ******* filled with regret.
One could argue that it’s actually easier.
So make the choice.
Make the choice to change.
Make the choice to believe in the 21/90 rule!
Make the choice to be habitually content with yourself.
You are just as important as the people you take care of.
You are just as important!
Let that sink in.
You are important.
Everything will be okay in the end.
If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.
Remember that.
So let’s make that leap together:
let’s choose happy;
let’s choose self-love
Nov 6, 2017
Nov 6, 2017 at 4:51 PM UTC
Burn bright Braveheart
my spirit guides you.
Whispers
They warrant warning Signs
And guide my wayward path.
Tracking to find me
my Demons Die.
Rebirth rides strong in the wind beside me.
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 2:23 AM UTC
Wake up from the slumber
Let yourself free
The imaginations run free
As they take you to places
You always wanted to visit
The land of happiness and freedom
Where you roam around
Feeling light and carefree
No anchors and chains
To hold you down
Wings of dreams help you fly
Over the mountains, valleys and oceans
And breathe the fresh air
Not the claustrophobic smoke
Which chokes you
Let this be a mantra, “I am free”
No one whatsoever
Can tie us down
Or cage our dreams and feelings
Be a braveheart
Hold hands of those who are confined
To take them with you
Let them smell the free air
And see the free world
Dream with eyes open
Bewildered by the beauty around
Let’s take a pledge
To be free
Once more, the mantra, ‘I am free’
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 12:20 AM UTC
You came to me upon that hill,
with sword and shield to conquer.
Defeated there no force by you,
my heart was all you were after.
With ease of resistance here at your feet,
I lay down my heart till its last beat.
You were so brave to see this through,
I surrender my walls to only you.
Desire of passion you've laid on my soul,
so powerful and compelling.
So I humbly hold your trusted hand,
to lead us to loves new dwelling.
By Bevi Jean
.
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 5:51 PM UTC
she is a child on the streets in the light of day.
dancing.
she has made a world of her own, here,
in tattered clothes and still-bright eyes.
she,
who lives in fear and smiles still—
braveheart.
this is the life she lives:
a fight for freedom even now,
a thirst for better days,
a kindness that remains.
this girl—she is a child.
and she is fury.
*(beneath the worn-out dress there is a knife.
this child—she has been a fighter in so many lives.)*
this lady—she reclaims her royal right.
for far too long she has been dealt too much dirt;
my child. she hurts.
generous child; sometimes I think she has been far too kind.
she has been cheated too many times.
good lady, take back all that they have taken.
I want it back; I want it back. we will take it back.
(this is a shout, a hope, a full demand.)
good lady, you deserve far more than what you have been given.
my lady, dear child,
still you smile.
my goddess,
stay bright.
unsheathe your knife;
raise your voice, speak honest words—
let battle cries be battle cries.
old heart of mine,
old heart of this land I love:
stay bright, stay bright.
we will take it back and more.
Jun 12, 2016
Jun 12, 2016 at 8:47 AM UTC
I hope I am grace to you
I hope I am the most powerful inspiration for good from a woman ever given to you
I hope I am a stonewall to you
A picture of the surest **** that ever kept Holland dry to you
I hope I am a warcry to you, what caused Braveheart to go and fight to you
I hope I am rest to you
I hope I am joy to you
I hope that I am hope to you
And I hope I am these things forever to you
Nov 23, 2018
Nov 23, 2018 at 2:52 AM UTC
So many things that are scary,
I don't think I have the courage.
The world frightens me,
and the people in it irritate me.
So much anger aimed everywhere,
it seems like no one is living in peace.
it seems like no one has a care,
just living life so selfishly.
Oh, how I want change,
but it only happens in fairy-tales.
I see the flaw in my makeup,
just a rotten human being who-
can't have his own way.
I have searched everywhere for-
happiness, only to come up empty-
handed, not realizing until years-
down the road that happiness is a-
by-product of right living. Oh, how-
I have failed numerous of times but-
I keep picking myself up and trying-
again and again. I have to realize that-
I have no control of others, they're going-
to say and do things that I don't like-
likewise,
I'm going to say and do things that they-
don't like.
But we need more peace than-
what we are giving out, so much mindless-
acts of cruelty that keep us in fear, locked-
up in cages in our own homes. Well, I want-
to break free and shout it out, just like in-
the movie Braveheart, "FREEDOM!" that's-
what it's about. Not our petty differences,
it means more than that. Let us take a stand-
for our nation and wear freedom on our sleeve.
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 8:07 PM UTC
So often at times we
Become preoccupied with
Self improvement
Self examination
Self awareness
Maintaining
What others think of us
That we forget that there
Are those willing
To run into battles with us
Spread warpaint
Across our faces
To hold us in our nightmares
But not to wake us
Cause they know we need it
To know
They’ll be there at
First light
Ready sword
Slaying the demons
Of our past
&
Those currently tormenting
Our present
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 6:36 AM UTC
Another Mother,
please
don't bother
The Bird buddy
such anger
management
for the human,
we are____
((Free birds))
Locked the
Queen Parliament
All humans\//
are the caged ones
(Tweets) fanatically
insane feet
Bird Fever
twiddle dee___*
her satin sheets
(fiddle me)
Mr. Brando bird can see??
Bird front
breasted docks
Cardinal Pope
flocks of Coo
Moo clocks
Commando Crumbs
Crows feet heavy
metal big bro beat
Angry tears of a clown
The tweet's on twitter
Rap brother
Big! brother Nomad
named Conrad_______?
The kiss it never
felt like this
(Ann Margaritas))
Polly crackers
and French Brie
Terrible two
tweets/ angry-fits
All she does is sit
High flight buns
poppy seeds
I'm a free bird.
Please, no cages
Holy **** wages.
Conrad Birdie
the
army got
you now.
Diamonds
bird created
Rubies
Billy Crystal
bye, birdie.
Got stuffy
Pyshco bird
shower but___
She eats like a bird
zombie pantry.
Those breadcrumbs
4 seasons
Bird feet seedy
The Gordon Fisherman
Starfish in her girdle;
Angry dogs of beagles
Jewish Bagels from
Brooklyn cream
cheese and lox
What a bird **** puddle.
That security guard he
pecks and nibble
The bicycle she still
peddles at Peddlers
A whole bird village
Pa. Ha Ha
Papas and the mamas
There slowing me down
turtles imagine
me and you I do.
I think about you every
Rooftop twittering
I need a lighter
No birdy littering
Wheres my bird waiter
Dorothy Rainbow
lorikeet
Brother, we
don't need to
escalate
Robin Red Breast
The Ladybirds braveheart
Solomon Island
movie part
The Rainbow
Lorikeet
She swept him off
another tweet
Down to the rainforest
Purple Prince
looked at her feet
girls so bitter
Her coffee
Freely and lightly
He went over to her
and said
Your coffee is
for the birds' sweetie
She said tweet tweet
You'll never be my bird
Angry is the word
May 18, 2018
May 18, 2018 at 8:03 PM UTC