"braze" poems
In braze, silent breeze of dreams incantations,
Shiva arms sway in the forest dark, mushroom,
Cloud, lord with fungi, mosses whose clinging
Shades of branches, braids deep, forking stories
Of old, brooding cauldron Druids, sidles Eastern
Spindrift words of Sanskrit spake, told in veined
Sacred hands unfound, celestial spines, moulded
Green, in the windy monkish statutes of the fallen
And single handed claps of the missionary leaves.
Aug 28, 2013
Aug 28, 2013 at 10:41 PM UTC
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In braze, silent breeze of dreams incantations,
Shiva arms sway in the forest dark, mushroom,
Cloud, lord with fungi, mosses whose clinging
Shades of branches, braids deep, forking stories
Of old, brooding cauldron Druids, sidles Eastern
Spindrift words of Sanskrit spake, told in veined
Sacred hands unfound, celestial spines, moulded
Green, in the windy monkish statutes of the fallen
And single handed claps of the missionary leaves.
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 6:47 PM UTC
In braze, silent breeze of dreams incantations,
Shiva arms sway in the forest dark, mushroom,
Cloud, lord with fungi, mosses whose clinging
Shades of branches, braids deep, forking stories
Of old, brooding cauldron Druids, sidles Eastern
Spindrift words of Sanskrit spake, told in veined
Sacred hands unfound, celestial spines, moulded
Green, in the windy monkish statutes of the fallen
And single handed claps of the missionary leaves.
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 12:25 PM UTC
Up , in a long wavy personality .
Waking the morning with my commitment to it's day .
Way too slight to storm the day .
Open the door to a gray cloudy breeze .
Slip out with ease onto the concrete leaf .
A page out of my very own book .
Liking the very way the ink bleed ;
Write off the tip, a pen that would rip right through another's book.
Soft to the touch, you fell cause you might slip right through .
Although the heart felt tipped utensil causes you to breathe .
With all the wind in my atmosphere, a tornado caused .
You to turn and run .
Opens my hidden twists, up with a given gist .
Like an autumn oak tree, letting go isn't so uncommon .
But still a shipped away surprise, .
So many unforgiving goodbyes .
A tear without anyone to give it a cry / /
Such a subtle generosity, so much so .
You might forget all beauty ever existed .
Me and memories go together,
like mine was an aggravated death .
Worth killing to a Saint ,
And none of the happiness was great .
Out of the blue, and only for another shade of green .
Jealous and out of the way,
So they faded navigated away.
Orange and ravenous red .
Foundation for success,
Paved a walk way for a street walker like hiss..
Step away and porcelain eyes .
Pierce once again .
Follow the haze with outa braze .
No touch, glass chimes.
Together once , noise of fine dining .
Couples and territorial squint .
Soothing child , for a partner for life.
Love for the second child in the other .
Like a bad photo shop .
No edit, just chop , black dot .
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 12:19 PM UTC
In braze, silent breeze of dreams incantations,
Shiva arms sway in the forest dark, mushroom,,
Cloud, lord with fungi, mosses whose clinging
Shades of branches, braids deep, forking stories
Of old, brooding cauldron Druids, sidles Eastern
Spindrift words of Sanskrit spake, told in veined
Sacred hands unfound, celestial spines, moulded
Green, in the windy monkish statutes of the fallen
And single handed claps of the missionary leaves.
Sep 29, 2015
Sep 29, 2015 at 6:02 PM UTC
In braze, silent breeze of dreams incantations,
Shiva arms sway in the forest dark, mushroom,,
Cloud, lord with fungi, mosses whose clinging
Shades of branches, braids deep, forking stories
Of old, brooding cauldron Druids, sidles Eastern
Spindrift words of Sanskrit spake, told in veined
Sacred hands unfound, celestial spines, moulded
Green, in the windy monkish statutes of the fallen
And single handed claps of the missionary leaves.
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 3:44 PM UTC
I was called shameless the other day
they certinaly meant it positively
but I wasn't quote sure what it means
especially in regard to me
I've done some thing my life
I've definitely crossed some lines
both things that I'm not proud of
but at the same time they re a part of me
they are my history
so I looked up shameless in the dictionary
braze, barefaced, unblushing,unashamed
I suppose that is me because shame is a game that I do not play
I'll say whatever I want to say
I'll never say anything I don't feel
Because all I want in life is to be real
to be the best me that I can be
because it's a **** shame to be anything else
so I'll be brazen and they may not like it
but that's their problem and not mine
I'm barefaced, they'll say I'm out of my mind
I am unblushing, my cheeks show no red
I am unashamed of the things I've said
I am shameless and I am myself
Jul 23, 2013
Jul 23, 2013 at 12:41 AM UTC
Under the tree
Under the shade
I sat me down and wrote my poem
In the heat of noontide
The braze of summer
Reminiscence of my trials
Under the tree
Under the shade
I stood and sat
Stood and walked around
Aimlessly in heaviness
Wondering how, why and what for
Under the tree
Under the shade
I sat with my pen
And wrote my song immortal
Recounting my quondam thralldom
The genesis of my exodus
The Numbering of my lapidation
The Levitical ministry of providence
The Deuteronomic prospects of victoire
The Joshua-like expeditions and vigils
That brought triumph on enemy
And lead my feet to Canaan
Jun 18, 2012
Jun 18, 2012 at 9:32 AM UTC
She shudders at the coldness...harsh winds braze her ashen body
Howling winds echo threw the lands leaving her alone...frightened.
Looking off towards the seas...waves crash violently
Eyes searching for...
Something, someone...but she sees...nothing.
She screams...a release to her frustration
For many a night her pleas can be heard...like banshees
Screeching for lost love...
Lost love...by the sea.
Many claim that she can be seen
On cold windy nights...
As she clings to the promise of her long lost love...
"Wait for me my love...by the sea...
I will return for thee
And your hand will be mine...
Wait and see"...
She still believes...
But we all really know
Her love, was lost to the sea.
On a cold windy night
As the waves crashed violently....
But her love is blinded by the windy breeze
For she awaits for her time, to return to-
Her mate, lost at sea.
On a night like tonight she can be seen
And heard by the howling winds...that crash like the sea...
Violently...
She sings her pleas...
Please...come back to me...
Or soon...I shall join thee...
Jan 31, 2011
Jan 31, 2011 at 2:00 PM UTC
As a waterwheel shall rise bounds
in a river where power will flow higher above stream
so mist does braze her skin which heightens stance with a kiss
where rain sought close by the rim yet wise
an owl on a branch that will sing
notes that nocturne has played here but still kept it away
from any current and rapidly churning sequence
how, cleverly those parts may bode in harmony awhile in a
canoe afloat in tranquility that programs a hydra just ashore.
Sep 13, 2016
Sep 13, 2016 at 7:19 PM UTC
The tops of trees receive it first
Our ears receive it second
It falls upon our ready flesh
As we embrace the natural tears
Our ears receive it second
With its hollow splat
As we embrace the natural tears
That braze our sapphire veins
With its hollow splat
It scents the breaths of winds
that braze our sapphire veins
The placid rhythm of the rains.
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 12:48 AM UTC
When will the moon constrict my hopeless burdens away,
when will the cold murderous slumber end,
when will the tigers eyes of tranquility call me again,
when will the rocks braze the underworld beneath,
when will the masks of quivering grief be lifted,
when will these rosegold chains dissolve,
when will the wild beast in my head lay to rest,
when will the ghosts strangle my rugged devotion,
when will I be salvaged by cupids soft arrow,
when will the fatigued ruins of my pirated soul be free,
when will the blistering light of the sun go out,
When will the treacherous waves of the oceans calm,
when will the songbirds symphony of agonizing pain stop singing,
when will the gaps of my devoured heart be mended,
when will my insufferable day of reckoning come,
when will my sullified essence be cleansed and my debt be repaid,
when will the howl of solace encrypt my unqwuentionable love,
when can I sip peacefully from the fountains of youth,
when can I eat the benevolent fruits of prolific endowment,
when will I be saved
When?
Jun 12, 2018
Jun 12, 2018 at 6:38 PM UTC
she looks like a movie,
sounds like a sweet melody,
the way she talks,
feel's gray as goosebumps,
braze the skin,
been longing to make her my lady.but now,
i wish she drank poison for me,if she really love's me,
she's too perfect for them,
and a little too for me,
she's too perfect,
jealousy is jealous of her,
but cool is a player,
i won't play,
i'll pray.
she drinks poison for me.
©Hillα
Feb 12, 2019
Feb 12, 2019 at 8:30 AM UTC
In this world you have all these fun and games. The one we find to fall in love making crazy stupid love stories that only make part of our dreams. Memories will be made.
what is the line you fall on to stop this madness that takes away all the trust you make threw new people you make. Have life endured the lies it only brings. All this world brings is broken trust.
The angel can lay asleep but watch the world for a while then tell me the truth of what do you really see.
You can spend all you life time making memories but you have no idea what mass attack will rip you and your life all apart.
This world is so unforgiving but I have the key to take every blow.
You could take my and just destroy me every thing! but you know I wont fight back.
My secret weapon is my words and my observations.
Every one has the choice to not fear the reality but what is the truth
Blood shed fighting and die.
I'm not letting any one cage me in . I have been in the shadows hiding till I could say my report and not be the one who stepped up in the counsel of choice,
but I have nothing to lose or fear any any more. The only thing I fear is losing the ones I love dearly.
For any one I love I would take my life to shield you from braze of bullets...
You can take every thing away from me but the truth will always stand tall,
but you can take my life away or every thing but I don't have any thing to lose.
Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 2:24 PM UTC
Word of the day Raconteur
Mirror mirror on the wall
who’s the fairest of them all
I know the answer
and it’s not me
I’m a realist I can see
When I look in the mirror, today
I quickly turned away
my reflection is not my perception
I see myself younger, prettier too
What’s a 62 year old lady to do?
I concede, it is what it is
And I’m OK with that
because that’s where I’m at
When did this come to pass?
It’s been so long ago
I was a sweet young lass
I used to have so much naturally curly hair
I turned heads, men would stare
That was the 1980s Disco Darling
I entered a legs contest on a dare
And Won, $100 I was up for anything!
Bodacious, audacious, braze, fearless
A dish, A movable Feast, A Fashion plate
I used to get dressed up, for a date
Applying make up, fixing my hair
Always The perfect designer outfit,
Head to toe ,dressed to the 9s
Designer perfume everywhere
Now an old lady stares back at me
It’s hard to contemplate, it’s hard to see
I am not vain, I think I’m rather plain
My inner beauty shines through
That’s what made me attractive, I knew
I’ve been married over 40 years
Lifelines, laugh lines, and many tears
My ****** lines are a badge of honor, courage, my testament of time
Fulfilling the grace in what is mine
To a Life lived full of love and sentiment
Children, grandchildren took their due
You could say my looks are shot
But this is what I’m working with
This is what I’ve got
Haggard through the ages of time
Outer beauty is no longer mine
I’ve developed inner beauty, peace of mind
In old age, that’s what I strive for, find
No need for make up it’s just a façade
I shrug my shoulders, a gentle nod
With menopause, make up mixed with sweat burns my eyes
I have become more wise
What’s a 62 year old lady to do?
This is as good as it gets
I don’t worry or fret
This is me
As a poet and an author
I am a bona fide raconteur
(Webster’s Word of the Day Challenge raconteur) A person who tells antidotes
2-13-24
Feb 15, 2024
Feb 15, 2024 at 1:06 AM UTC
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In braze, silent breeze of dreams incantations,
Shiva arms sway in the forest dark, mushroom,
Cloud, lord with fungi, mosses whose clinging
Shades of branches, braids deep, forking stories
Of old, brooding cauldron Druids, sidles Eastern
Spindrift words of Sanskrit spake, told in veined
Sacred hands unfound, celestial spines, moulded
Green, in the windy monkish statutes of the fallen
And single handed claps of the missionary leaves.
.
Feb 6, 2021
Feb 6, 2021 at 5:54 PM UTC
Like water:
I’d like to overflow your soul, so you never get thirsty on your entire life
Like the moon:
I’d like to fill you with light, so you never get covered by darkness
Like reinforcement bars:
I’d like to braze our souls, so we never part because together we are one
Like a heater:
I’d like to cover you, so that you stay warm forever
Like a blanket:
I’d like to comfort you, so that you are forever free
Like a seed:
I’ll grow old and flourish with you
Like a man:
I’ll love you with your flaws and without limitations
Then, like a magnet:
I vow to remain attracted to you and bond forever until death do us apart
May 10, 2024
May 10, 2024 at 11:00 AM UTC
Naked and near
We take blistered path
Close and
Nearing you as you drip
Farther away
Don' tell me baby
That you can't stay
My life here without you
Can't be
Any other way
I'm neath these painted stars
These plastered whites
An' I'm staring at furious horizon
Wishing I was young again
Wishing I still held the kite
Take the river instead
Retrieve Saturns move in lead
I'm begging for forgiveness my darling
I'm praying void of God
That my tune
Can catch the ear of the starling
But the breath
Is always short
When death
Hovers to close
To the napkin
I eat
I sleep
And I stare at the curtains
As they push from
An invisible hand
Coyly persuading me
To kiss the neck
Of the one I adore more
Braze the inner thigh
Of her core more
Caress her incredulousness
More
Breaking on braking
Myself
From a full stop
To snake the nape
Coliding accolades
With Starbursts and
Confucius's misfortunes
I'm your next best friend
I'm the one you forgot
I'm the after thought of your first thought
I'm the money
You were supposed to
Lend.
Feb 11, 2018
Feb 11, 2018 at 9:49 PM UTC