"brawn" poems
loaded with her weekly shop
outside the doors at asda
***** **** that never let
opportunity go passed her
hello big boy
she stroked his cheek
my bags are heavy
knees are weak
i lift dumbells
night and day
giss ya shopping
lead the way
i've got an itchy *****
and i've got the horn
do you want to see it?
you **** hunk of brawn
you'll have to show me luv
it's hard for me to see
those ****** japanese cars
look all the same to me
Mar 14, 2010
Mar 14, 2010 at 1:26 AM UTC
He is, the mystery man.
Walking at night.
He is the mystery man.
Always out of sight.
The mystery man, is odd
he comes at night, leaves at dawn.
The mystery man, is as tall as a rod
He is all brains, no brawn.
We spend our time, you and I,
thinking, "Who is the mystery man?"
Is he a cop? a doc? or a spy?
Does he drive a bus? a car? or a van?
The world needs the mystery man.
He makes us all feel safe.
The mystery man always has a plan.
He is always there,
watching.
Some say, we don't need the mystery man,
they say he is a nuisance.
Others say, since he came,
life has been an improvement.
He does not seek glory,
He does not seek fame.
He only seeks a place in someone's story,
to be remembered, but never by name.
Thank you to those who try to make people's lives better, even if they don't know it. Thank you to all the "mystery men".
Jan 29, 2019
Jan 29, 2019 at 4:52 PM UTC
Filipino immortal of time
I'm courting thee now;
And making thou mine
We both kneweth
This day wouldst arrive;
Now taketh mine hand, stand by mine side.
I hadst amour'
For thee, for so long;
Now let's maketh, the sweetest amare song.
Ourn affection, tis obvious
For all to see;
We art the real deal, not some farce dream.
As tis we shalt meet,
As thou shalt get that engineering degree;
I'll taketh a trip, or we'll meet in between.
I'm courting thee now,
Tribal of tropic's;
I'll get ****** in thy saliva, bodie's close, bliss the main topic.
None material's needed
As ourn belief's state;
Ourn devotedness, not some internet kiss, everlasting mate's.
So now thou shalt knoweth
Thou hath been courted;
To showeth thee mine love, and to me thou art more important.
Other's shalt judge
As other wilt mock;
Yet we shalt be happy, in romantic cot's
Even if we art poor
With none food on the table;
Ourn love shalt speaketh loudly, none words needed, nor label's.
We shalt write poetry
As it becometh true;
Sweetest earl Jane, just wanted to sayeth, I loveth thou more to.
Tagalog language, thou shalt teacheth me better
Queen earl Jane;
This is thine courting letter.
I'm not all the other's
As thou doth see;
I am thy Hari, thou art mine Reyna, in whom I believe.
As I knoweth thou don't feeleth
Good enough for man, nor God;
Just wanted to telleth thee, thou art mine, and God's all.
I just wanted to let thee knoweth
I looketh up to thine light;
Thou inspireth me so much, as to other's, thou art vital to life.
So when thou feeleth down
And wanting to leap out of thy brawn;
Remember tommorrow ill be here, as well as ourn own god.
This is mine courtship letter
As now I'm courting thee;
We both want it and need it, mine best friend, life, and queen...
I loveth thee so much
We both none more canst hide;
Thou art mine Earl Jane, thou art mine life....
To thee; dearest Earl Jane..................
©Brsndon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane dedication/あある じぇえん
Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 9:16 PM UTC
For years I tried to play the hero
always did my very best
gave everything my all
worked hard at every test
always wanted to save the world
but couldn't even save myself
now I'm my own villain
hero dreams on a shelf
I didn't save a single person
and now my dream is gone
wish I could've helped the world
but I did not have the brawn
maybe I'll be my own hero
though I'm not too sure
promise I will try my best
but the future is obscure
~S.E
Feb 9, 2014
Feb 9, 2014 at 6:20 AM UTC
In the dour ages
Of drafty cells and draftier castles,
Of dragons breathing without the frame of fables,
Saint and king unfisted obstruction's knuckles
By no miracle or majestic means,
But by such abuses
As smack of spite and the overscrupulous
Twisting of thumbscrews: one soul tied in sinews,
One white horse drowned, and all the unconquered pinnacles
Of God's city and Babylon's
Must wait, while here Suso's
Hand hones his tack and needles,
Scouraging to sores his own red sluices
For the relish of heaven, relentless, dousing with prickles
Of horsehair and lice his ***** *****
While there irate Cyrus
Squanders a summer and the brawn of his heroes
To rebuke the horse-swallowing River Gyndes:
He split it into three hundred and sixty trickles
A girl could wade without wetting her shins.
Still, latter-day sages,
Smiling at this behavior, subjugating their enemies
Neatly, nicely, by disbelief or bridges,
Never grip, as the grandsires did, that devil who chuckles
From grain of the marrow and the river-bed grains.
6.3k
I think about the face of a woman
and her smooth skin
soft lips
the curvature of the Earth is kin to her hips
I feel humanity suffering needlessly
beneath her cells
as I wander her valleys and sand-dune hills
she is the beach
the ocean
the calling of many gulls screaming for food and
I love her white *******
But she is sneaky
and cares for me
caressing is painful
I see it in my own eyes the next day
when the smudgy bruises flit across my reflection
But men understand
without either of us speaking a **** word
we drive
we shout
we catcall
we game
the music takes us and we run for days
doing nothing
anything
and i guess sometimes we ****
Succinct and supernatural
Brawn or brown skin or bright ideas gone awry
always a good day with the gang or the bros
I feel safer in the hoods
I want her to notice me, and to shyly skip over like she did last week
i want to kiss her neck and pull back
soon enough to catch her half-lidded gaze into the abyss behind me
I want to wear boxers and treat her to fancy dinners
But
I want to be her
I want taste a mustache
I want to be lifted overhead like a little sister
and brought back to the earth with sweet
exploration
Impossibility
I want women and men to be the same thing
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 1:44 AM UTC
i love alliteration
like kings love living
like lions love killing
like love lost leaves aching
and wonder
wide wonder
where we were, when we were
we were
so...
alive.
awesome.
some sleep. others dream.
fetch fire from fire
blaze
blaze and black
opposites. awesome opposites.
still not us.
some sleep. some slip away.
slippery like fish.
i dont like fish very much.
live late. love long.
life
if it is life
lives
lest life linger, sub-par
sub-average
far more fitting.
(the former phrase, of course, following "fish"
sans "sub-" sentences)
some sleep, some dream.
others, oddly enough, bother both
both worlds, which while one works without what one would supply
(some sleepers dont dream)
dreamers, sometimes, seldom sleep.
rather, wrestle restlessly, fervently
futile fights
fighting fear, hate, hardship, hardly having strength to share their ideas.
folly.
does it seem, slightly
that they need both?
sleep and strength?
brains and brawn?
take teamwork, temporarily.
you and i...
we
we would win.
we wish,
we wonder,
we wander wherever.
we watch,
we would, whatever,
win.
because we live.
like lines long for letters
which would whittle words from whiteness
we would work with one another
and,
so,
we could rule the world.
would you rule with me?
please?
because i love alliteration
like lines and letters love leading listless eyes
lacking lids
courses carved across canvas
craving closure.
craving cause.
point.
place a period.
pause.
pax. peace.
pretty please?
Feb 28, 2012
Feb 28, 2012 at 2:26 AM UTC
Museums as art
Art as museums
Sail the trail to my mausoleum
Psychopaths and physicists
Psychiatrists and philosophers
Philanthropists and pilots and painters
Declare now, that these are our days –
Our hours, and our days
These are our city, our hours
Our time, our days.
This is our world –
At 14:92 I landed here and claimed it
And searched it and found it wanting
Of civilization that I could so easily supply
By means of wounds and iron
And brawn and truth
(and just a tiny touch of influenza darling)
By means of our Lord,
Who grants us all that we desire
If only we **** enough of those he did not choose.
This is our world –
And we shall make it what we will
Make it in our own image
Teach it that innocence is not knowing the difference between right and wrong
Raise it to hate no one
But to love itself so deeply
That all other love seems hateful in comparison.
This is our child, love
Yours and mine.
Here the first shall be last
And the last shall be first
But once the first are last they shall be
Last
Last
Last
And once the last are first
They shall make it so they can never be last again
This is our primitive accumulation
Of necessary materialism
Let’s cultivate matter
To make objects that we can place on shelves
And in cases –
These are our cases
And we love them as we love ourselves
Museums as mass graves
Mass graves as museums
Kiss me in my mausoleum
Priests and prisoners
Prostitutes and prophets
Pioneers and pilgrims and pagans
This is our time –
And we are dispensing it in spendthrift increments
Buying threadbare bandages for our cavernous canyons
Buying ample earplugs
To seal in the silence
So we can somewhat say
“look there is peace –
Look we have done it
In our time it is accomplished” –
This is our peace –
And we know it by the signs
The lions and lambs lay quietly together
In our brass-barred zoos
For as long as shelves and cases
Are intact and the first are first
And the last are last
And the civilized are organized and holy
There is peace –
Oh, look
We made peace!
And as for Solomon and Socrates –
We take their words to weave through our new wisdom
And when we re-chart the constellations
We shall give them each a star
And salute them once a year
When they come around the universe
Oh, look
How wise we are!
Mass graves as art
Art as mass graves
There have been no better days
There has been no greater time
Politicians and pornographers
Professors and pirates
Psychologists and pastors and pianists
This is our time –
And we are doing with it the very best we know how
The last are toiling and trying
And the first are trying to think to try –
But there is a shortness in our hours
And a violence in our peace
There is inherent foolishness in our wisdom
And disease in our cities
And there is death upon our shelves and in our cases.
This is our world –
We crafted it and declared our truth to be true
We sculpted this, our colosseum
Please inscribe my mausoleum
With “we know not what we do”
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 5:43 PM UTC
I find myself sidewalking everything
So Silverstein was lucky to know where it ends
Will I ever be privileged to discover such a thing?
Too many trivial needs distract from its pursuit
But how am I to know?
When it's time, I only cared for my toys
The way the sheeple only care for their handouts
Do tell; if the Pentagon lays off 800,000 people
Will we know they're telling the truth about unemployment
When their words flow between mouthfuls
Of stolen fruit and gold
At the table of the elite
So tell me, who is John Galt?
I sit at a table with a mind that knows how to think for himself
And can't help but think this is the purest form of elitism:
Until at last the time has come
For the imminent end of all serfdom
Brought by the brawn of the brainy
How are we to keep our heads when the others ***** us over
Take our heads clean off to see the contents
Only the strongest can withstand the attempts to skew ideas
Upon who's minds the lying flies
Forced off by intellect
The simple last defender of God and liberty
Big Brother would have us not discuss such things
At times, I feel that we are the last in the world
So, tell me- if this paper is the last in the world, have we written something significant?
I've no doubt the world will see
The mistakes of society
Time then, will bring forth a new renaissance, with us as creators
And they, as the readers of some disconnected thoughts
Written at a time when the end of a page was a good stopping point for poetry, but not for the limit of government infringement on personal freedom.
Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 12:38 AM UTC
Dear Poet Friends, I hope you like this slice of Early History presented
below in simple verse. Please do read the short notes at the end, before giving your comments. Thanks, - Raj
ARCHIMEDES : THE PIONEERING
STREAKER OF HISTORY!
There lived in the Third Century BC, in the Sicilian
town of Syracuse, then a Greek colony,
A Greek mathematician named Archimedes.
He was tasked by King Hiero of his town,
To find the purity of gold in his crown;
Suspicious of the goldsmith having mixed
some material of inferior kind,
Which the King wanted Archimedes to find!
So, Archimedes lost in thought one day,
Entered the public bath on his way!
And as his body began to get submerged,
He happened to notice perchance,
Water spilling over from the tub!
The answer suddenly flashed across his
mind,
And he jumped up leaving everything
behind,
Wearing only his birthday suit,
Running through the street of Syracuse,
Exclaiming - “Eureka! Eureka!”
(I have found it! I have found it!)
Perhaps to become the first known streaker
of History!
While establishing the Principles of Buoyancy!
@ (see notes)
Archimedes, son of the astronomer Pheidias,
studied at the great Alexandrian city,
Remembered even to this day for his many
pioneering works, -
In Hydrostatics, Mechanics, and Geometry.
With his ingenious mechanical discoveries,
He held the great Roman galleys of Marcellus
at bay,
For more than three years, as Plutarch the
Roman Historian says! + (see notes)
Later one day, while lost in deep thought,
When some intricate problem of geometry
he was trying to resolve,
Refused to hear Marcellus' bidding,
To be slain by the Roman soldiers who had
come to fetch him!
O those Romans, with lesser brains and more
brawn!
And some hundred and thirty years after
his death in 75 BC,
Cicero, then the Roman Governor of Sicily,
Found the tomb of great Archimedes, near the
Agrigentine Gate, over grown with bushes and
thorns;
Where he lay buried in the scented dust of History!
- Raj Nandy, New Delhi.
NOTES:
@ Principle of Buoyancy = any floating object displaces its own
weight of fluid. So weight displaced by a crown of pure gold and
the one already made could be compared to find the truth!
+ Archimedes designed large stone throwers, & crossbows, and
also grappling hooks using large cranes to grab Roman ships and
capsize them!
Jun 25, 2016
Jun 25, 2016 at 9:04 AM UTC
A birth that was meant too be
It was strength surrounding the solid key
Our story involves Zeus
He was a God who sat High
His eyes were on the Earth below being living creatures such as I
Yet very powerful, mysterious and magical
Hercules was Zeus Son
A man having strength that will conquer the odds of many
The mythical uncanny
But Hercules has many tasks to perform
Before anyone can be considered a champion, there are feats being the norm
The test of one’s strength and withstanding endless struggles
Well some of the citizens of Elis had doubts that Hercules even existed and felt it was on a legend story
But far more than lightening bolts being the glory
Hercules proved over and over, he was more than muscles and brawn, but had a heart of gold that would always last
Hercules once lifted a statue that a mire mortal could never do weighing a ton
He was his own man among
Hercules illustrated he didn’t have a heavy heart, but strength in aiding the weak in lifting the burdens
Yet Hercules would be faced with many challenges beyond measure
One task would be defeating the Hydra, a two headed Monster
How does one being so small and having strength, but the challenge against something so large?
It will take tack, skill and a precision plan in order to defeat the Hydra into victory
So Hercules picked up a club and anything else that was available to think of
At first, it looked like Hercules was wearing down the Hydra, but the Hydra kept getting its second wind
It wasn’t until then
Hercules then applied intense strength on the Hydra, and the Monster finally crumbled down to the ground
There wasn’t any longer of the Hydra’s sound
Later it became task after task
But Hercules continued to reign supreme
Hercules became a champion, and his own king with the deliverer of strength and the defender of the weak.
Oct 30, 2016
Oct 30, 2016 at 1:10 PM UTC
¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯
perched atop a muddy graze
amongst the reefing centipede
does lady jade a’ponder days
from whence the eldest had decreed.
*"what's this a'fuss upon the breeze
that sings a song of fallen trees?"
**a burnin' Birgham urn, aburn!
a'crack—a'whack—a'wish..***
was broadening—a shiver, swift—
bespoken of her crown to rest?
what way whereby these spirits lift
that hide should (of the head) contest?
*"what, unbeknownst, should overwhelm
this silv'ry shoat, what's felling elm?"
**a burnin' Birgham urn, aburn!
a'crack—a'whack—a'wish..***
amidst a cruel cacophony,
the lady seed, she must concede
the razing of her progeny
beholden to appease a need.
*"what's this in want of dire good
that preys upon upholding wood?"
**a burnin' Birgham urn, aburn!
a'crack—a'whack—a'wish..***
on arbor brawn does ardor dine
does earthen daughter march to meet
as tireless as the vile design
divesting mother's gen'rous teat.
*"what subtleties uproot the heart
as bodies from their souls depart?"
**a burnin' Birgham urn, aburn!
a'crack—a'whack—a'wish..***
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 8:19 AM UTC
Head held high, flexing the shell
bright lifestyle, I know it too well.
It’s a tall tale to tell but its best that you know
that things get better at the end of the road
Not too long ago, I felt the same way
I dealt with demons that crept in the grey
And maybe it’s hard enough to ask for help
but it’s harder to watch yourself
give up once you’ve left the shelf
Nah, I couldn’t stomach the pain
like a trumpet, I blew the in out of sane.
I popped open a vein to paint my blues, violet
and threw a pair of cans on to block out the silence.
I’m not defiant; I defy any tyrant
that tries to buy my compliance.
I ride with the giants, stride like Midas
minus the greed, all I need is kindness.
Spread your wings; shed the ego
live amid the kings like a needle.
Be your own hero, succeed the sequel
take charge, zero in on the easel.
Reach for the stars, you are an artist
Van Gough goals; erase all the hardships.
I may try my hardest
but I’m not the smartest
but good work ethic leads to a harvest.
Reap my carcass, long after I’m gone,
brains over brawn, shame on you all
for thinking that these walls can hold me in.
You get the memo? I’m better than I’ve ever been.
Binge drinking is a sickness in itself
***try to **** the pain but the pain kills the help***
as well as low thinking it will **** your brain cells
***if you try to **** the pain, you will **** yourself***
© Matthew Harlovic
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 11:01 PM UTC
Can’t you hear the reverie of trumpet calls?
Lion’s roar inside your blood?
Horse drawn buggys of unrighted wrongs
Jack Hammers
Carving another niche in their belt
Of brawn and steel
Daggers
Driven into hearts of man
Shrapnel
Burning, Stinging
Earth howling in her *******
Blossoming in respite
Man, woman barred from hearts merging
In the forgotten tale of reciprocity…
Gun powder laced with melodic virtuoso
Absorbed as a distant chant
Sound waves meandering into War Zones
Ghostly sounds of the living, the living haunting the soon to be dead
Personal vendettas in the guise of fighting
Man, woman barred from hearts merging
In the forgotten tale of reciprocity…
Oct 19, 2011
Oct 19, 2011 at 4:33 PM UTC
Oh my lover, where have you gone?
I’ve been searching far and wide from dusk until dawn
Oh my lover, where have you gone?
You hold the key to my heart
Around your neck the string that it is on
If you don’t love me then just give me the key
Let me unlock my heart
Let it be free
Oh my lover where have you gone?
Yesterday you were here,
we made love on the lawn
It seems tonight you have finally disappeared
What replaced you is everything I have feared
Lonely, heartbroken sadness as taken your place
Guilt and burdens replace the smile on your face
But, oh my lover where have you gone?
My heart is weak so the line I have drawn
Bring me back my key I need to unlock it
Fill it with new light like a plug in a socket
If I don’t get it back my heart will surely break
Reminds me of arguments
All you do is take, take, take
Oh my lover where have you gone?
You must be far away, eons and eons
My heart is torn now right down the middle
On minor details I’d rather not piddle
Oh my lover where have you gone?
Alas off to find another man
None of the brains all of the brawn
Oct 11, 2012
Oct 11, 2012 at 1:58 AM UTC
Smuggler of the goods of life,
...rugged Hero, brawn and bone.
Laser pistol, utility belt...
Ship of speed you call a home.
Smuggler of the goods of life,
...outlaw cast into his place.
Wookie brother, strange alliance...
Transgress all rules, the laws of space.
Solo,
you are not and now,
...all of space filled in-kind.
An Empire awaits you...
You smuggler of the goods of life.
Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 10:36 AM UTC
I've never had that crisp good nature
I never want to have it
I am no superman
I am a Brawn
Young
Powerful
Indestructible
Unstoppable
Stronger
***** your rules
Now i am free of you
***** your perfect mold
***** them all
Saving a cat
**** THAT
Why not a bank vault?
Save a few dollars from the government
The thrill of battle
The ecstasy of intoxicating cash
The sweet taste of challenge
Always stronger
I am not your hero
I'd just as soon rob you as save you
I'll save you only because
Without you I have no one to rob!
I am the Antihero
I am the perfect defender of man
**** or save i can do both
I am not perfect
A rampage is as effective as a ****** round
I am the hero in the shadows
I am Power
I am Freedom
I am Imperfect
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 12:12 AM UTC
Diamond dewdrops, silvery horse,
Untainted innocence stays its course.
Topaz ring, rising sun,
Unchanging euphoria, can’t be undone.
Rose-quartz sunset, tender kiss,
Soft and sweet, untouched bliss.
Sapphire sky, reflection in rain,
Peaceful, majestic, free from pain.
Emerald eyes, sweetened lime,
Smooth and easy, not moved by time.
Ruby fruit, open heart,
Unchecked passion from the start.
Carnelian flower, flame burns brisk,
Wild and new, a daring risk.
Amethyst crystal, curtain drawn,
Beauty and tension reveal their brawn.
Obsidian stone, midnight’s scare,
Bitter-sweet, painful, almost despair.
Opal dream, colour-streaked dove,
Who can unravel the mysteries of love?
Oct 27, 2011
Oct 27, 2011 at 7:42 PM UTC
Cliche
Life ***** then you die,
try and laugh, no need to cry.
Everyday is a new beginning,
can't keep my head from spinning.
Life's a journey, not a destination,
waiting for my train at the local station.
Same ole **** different day,
always do things your own way.
Don't you hate when that happens,
food on face, with no napkins.
Try walking in someone else's shoes,
it doesn't really matter who's.
Don't worry, be happy,
no need to be snappy.
Always do as your told,
that cliche is getting old.
Another day, another dollar,
midgets are people too, just smaller.
Don't bite the hand that feeds you,
unless of course it's filled with poo.
You can't always get what you want,
but when you do, always flaunt.
Every rose has its thorn,
why does **** look like corn.
Find the light at the end of the tunnel,
I badly want a mistletoe belt buckle.
Don't know what you got, till it's gone,
if you got brains, you don't need brawn.
Love will find a way,
I once heard a band say.
Fame is only fifteen minutes long,
where you're at, is where you belong.
Friends come and friends go,
but it's family, you will always watch grow.
There is always a mountain, you must climb,
everyone will commit at least one crime.
Put that in your pipe and smoke it,
if you have a son, buy him a baseball mitt.
Only believe in what you see,
bad things always happen in three.
Don't always believe what you hear or read,
red blood, is what we all bleed.
Knock, knock who's there,
before you open, please beware.
Knick, knack, paddy, whack,
all girls love a good *** smack.
Money don't grow on trees,
in life there are no guarantees.
Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 10:24 PM UTC
The Marshmallows decided to have a top Party
Dressed gaily in white, pink, red, green and yellow
They mingled and floated around looking arty-farty
We're going to dance in town not partying in a garage
And guess what, We won't invite Toffee he's not like us
Go melt and burn says Toffee with rightful disdain
who wants to party with a bunch of soft silly buffoons
Overblown and presumptuous you lot melt in the rain
Nothing to you all but egging and hot air you poltroon
Who wants to dance with mixed up softies with no brains
I am Toffee hot and hard and always ready for the bite
You can't lick me in a hurry and I take a while to crack
I am brown with brawn and brains and ready to fight
Got rhythm with the moves, tastes and flavours top whack
Not some boring twirls or stumps gathered together tight
Come try me if you dare and see me squash you down flat
I'll go into you hard your softness yielding like knife on butter
Can marsh you with my strength till you're nothing but mellow
Or stick to your puffy wooly state and squeeze you still flatter
Till you beg and squeal your surrender showing you're shallow
I am not like you and don't think, see, look or taste like you
I am brown and sweet, hard and chewy and I really don't care
For emulsified vain brainless no substance marshmallow tools
Who can only be brave and big when all packed together like
So go party and kid yourselves softies I don't party with fools
Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 8:34 AM UTC
~
(written in response to one by Beryl Dov)
constellationally speaking
a trophied man is one
whose weaknesses
he has overcome,
those the stars
foretold, ordained;
flaws and blemishes
the gods disdained,
who flies
with herculean
brawn and breadth;
who plies
the star ways
to their dizzying heights
and stairways
to their dismal depths.
he is…
like no other,
he is…
the lonesome
overcomer!
~
*post script.
for Beryl Dov, poet laureate, extraordinaire;
in response to his “The Lonely Astronomer”.
how anyone sees his as anything
negative is beyond me…
i see nothing but
an overcomer’s metaphor.
well done, friend!!
(and yes, by "man"
i do mean mankind)
The Lonely Astronomer:
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1182761/the-lonely-astronomer/*
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 8:32 PM UTC
Beholden.
I am for a tainted past.
Years of scars.
Inwardly vast.
Recollected memories so brawn.
In my dreams.
They will never be gone.
At a time..
Feeling worthless...
Knowing now.
A test..
A test of hidden purpose.
Purpose that has given me preparation.
Inspiration.
Determination.
Motivation for a delightful future is now my affixation.
I am..
Beholden.
Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 7:54 PM UTC
One of the many secrets,
for facing Life’s adversity
is a change of perspective;
adjusting the lens, we see
things from a Heavenly view-
whereby old problems are seen
as new opportunities, teeming
brightly, unsullied by routines
of dull, antiquated thinking.
Address all challenges head on,
without any semblance of fear;
employing some spiritual brawn
ensures that final solutions
can be found and implemented;
real satisfaction comes, when
by God, you’re complimented.
Oct 28, 2016
Oct 28, 2016 at 1:46 PM UTC
A Man will ask himself:
Is the glass taken of half
Or given of it?
We hear this tale
Unworn and aged
(Like a fine wine
Save a rich cheese
Always a decadence
An adornment so sweet.
Fruits that our mother
Blesses us with)
and look into the crystal
Search for grace
We think comes from
Wonders of the light.
But man’s feeble mind
Is so beguiled
(Hoodwinked into
Vizard
By the lures
Of such a beautiful thing
As crystal.)
And rapt with greed.
So much brawn
Is put to
Pondering the
Substance
Of the vessel
(such thought
That manifests itself
In a disease
More blood ridden
Than a
Plague)
in materialism
(the silent
Murderer
That infects the
Mind of a
worldly soul)
and has no cure
To emerge from
A field of
Medical travesty.
When all has
Passed
And man answers
for his sins,
One will in the end
Discover
the question
That never works it’s way
To the lips
(If not even
Figments of thought
In words)
What have you to say
About the fill
Of a glass
When it has
Shattered
Upon the floor?
Jan 14, 2012
Jan 14, 2012 at 12:30 AM UTC
Thou needest not be told that chamber
Labour will sap more energy than office
Work off thee: brawn for brain; --it is
Like climbing Mt. Everest in winter.
Peerless joy thou awaitest at the summit
When you come in thy summery suit.
Feb 12, 2014
Feb 12, 2014 at 4:20 AM UTC