"builded" poems
Cut grass lies frail:
Brief is the breath
Mown stalks exhale.
Long, long the death
It dies in the white hours
Of young-leafed June
With chestnut flowers,
With hedges snowlike strewn,
White lilac bowed,
Lost lanes of Queen Anne's lace,
And that high-builded cloud
Moving at summer's pace.
8.4k
14
One Sister have I in our house,
And one, a hedge away.
There’s only one recorded,
But both belong to me.
One came the road that I came—
And wore my last year’s gown—
The other, as a bird her nest,
Builded our hearts among.
She did not sing as we did—
It was a different tune—
Herself to her a music
As Bumble bee of June.
Today is far from Childhood—
But up and down the hills
I held her hand the tighter—
Which shortened all the miles—
And still her hum
The years among,
Deceives the Butterfly;
Still in her Eye
The Violets lie
Mouldered this many May.
I spilt the dew—
But took the morn—
I chose this single star
From out the wide night’s numbers—
Sue—forevermore!
4.1k
On winter nights beside the nursery fire
We read the fairy tale, while glowing coals
Builded its pictures. There before our eyes
We saw the vaulted hall of traceried stone
Uprear itself, the distant ceiling hung
With pendent stalactites like frozen vines;
And all along the walls at intervals,
Curled upwards into pillars, roses climbed,
And ramped and were confined, and clustered leaves
Divided where there peered a laughing face.
The foliage seemed to rustle in the wind,
A silent murmur, carved in still, gray stone.
High pointed windows pierced the southern wall
Whence proud escutcheons flung prismatic fires
To stain the tessellated marble floor
With pools of red, and quivering green, and blue;
And in the shade beyond the further door,
Its sober squares of black and white were hid
Beneath a restless, shuffling, wide-eyed mob
Of lackeys and retainers come to view
The Christening.
A sudden blare of trumpets, and the throng
About the entrance parted as the guests
Filed singly in with rare and precious gifts.
Our eager fancies noted all they brought,
The glorious, unattainable delights!
But always there was one unbidden guest
Who cursed the child and left it bitterness.
The fire falls asunder, all is changed,
I am no more a child, and what I see
Is not a fairy tale, but life, my life.
The gifts are there, the many pleasant things:
Health, wealth, long-settled friendships, with a name
Which honors all who bear it, and the power
Of making words obedient. This is much;
But overshadowing all is still the curse,
That never shall I be fulfilled by love!
Along the parching highroad of the world
No other soul shall bear mine company.
Always shall I be teased with semblances,
With cruel impostures, which I trust awhile
Then dash to pieces, as a careless boy
Flings a kaleidoscope, which shattering
Strews all the ground about with coloured shards.
So I behold my visions on the ground
No longer radiant, an ignoble heap
Of broken, dusty glass. And so, unlit,
Even by hope or faith, my dragging steps
Force me forever through the passing days.
3.8k
And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England’s mountains green?
And was the holy Lamb of God
On England’s pleasant pastures seen?
And did the Countenance Divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here
Among these dark satanic mills?
Bring me my bow of burning gold!
Bring me my arrows of desire!
Bring me my spear! O clouds, unfold!
Bring me my chariot of fire!
I will not cease from mental fight,
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand,
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England’s green and pleasant land.
3.6k
Swallow, swallow, neighbor swallow,
Starting on your autumn flight,
Pause a moment at my window,
Twitter softly your good-night;
For the summer days are over,
All your duties are well done,
And the happy homes you builded
Have grown empty, one by one.
Swallow, swallow, neighbor swallow,
Are you ready for your flight?
Are all the feather cloaks completed?
Are the little caps all right?
Are the young wings strong and steady
For the journey through the sky?
Come again in early spring-time;
And till then, good-by, good-by!
2.7k
Howe's Final version
Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord:
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;
He hath loosed the fatal lightning of his terrible swift sword:
His Truth is marching on.
I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps;
They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps;
I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps.
His Day is marching on.
I have read a fiery gospel, writ in burnished rows of steel:
'As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall deal;
Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel,
Since God is marching on.'
He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat;
He is sifting out the hearts of men before his judgment-seat:
Oh! be swift, my soul, to answer Him! be jubilant, my feet!
Our God is marching on.
In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,
With a glory in his ***** that transfigures you and me:
As he died to make men holy, let us die to make men free,
While God is marching on.
2. Howe's First Manuscript Version
Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.
He is trampling out the wine press, where the grapes of wrath are stored,
He hath loosed the fateful lightnings of his terrible swift sword,
His truth is marching on.
I have seen him in the watchfires of an hundred circling camps
They have builded him an altar in the evening dews and damps,
I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps,
His day is marching on.
I have read a burning Gospel writ in fiery rows of steel,
As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall deal
Let the hero born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel,
Our God is marching on.
He has sounded out the trumpet that shall never call retreat,
He has waked the earth's dull sorrow with a high ecstatic beat,
Oh! be swift my soul to answer him, be jubilant my feet
Our God is marching on.
In the whiteness of the lilies he was born across the sea
With a glory in his ***** that shines out on you and me,
As he died to make men holy, let us die to make men free,
Our God is marching on.
He is coming like the glory of the morning on the wave
He is wisdom to the mighty, he is sucour to the brave
So the world shall be his footstool, and the soul of Time his slave
Our God is marching on.
2.6k
i.
She, the Filipino rose
That sit's in a vase, gilded in Filipino gold;
Builded by seraph's and cherub soul's
Structured by the hand of God, in mansion's of old.
ii.
She, the archangel, of storytime mode
She, the one mother's and father's hast a book of on their shelves;
She, the tunnel to the third heaven, the messenger of Christ's help
She, the light, she, yellow majesty bedight, she; mine jane: wife.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl jane Nagley dedication ( Filipino rose dedication)
Sep 29, 2015
Sep 29, 2015 at 7:33 PM UTC
And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon england's mountains green?
And was the holy lamb of god
... On england's pleasant pastures seen?
And did the countenance divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was jerusalem builded here
Among those dark satanic mills?
Bring me my bow of burning gold!
Bring me my arrows of desire!
Bring me my spear: o clouds unfold!
Bring me my chariots of fire!
I will not cease from metal fight;
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand
Till we have built jerusalem
In england's green and pleasant land.
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 6:28 AM UTC
Something snapped.
the last straw, perhaps.
it all became too much, the pressure builded until the force of it pushed against my conscience and called my fury into action.
and the movement was so fast that the world slowed down around it.
like my brain had already processed it and replayed it to myself, as slowly as it could.
either so I could fully feel the severity of what I've done...
or maybe just so I could revel in it.
in that fury. the fury that set me apart from myself.
and showed my true capabilities.
and when my hand flew through the air with the lamp I'd grabbed near by,
and collided heavily into his head,
splitting the skin and breaking the bone and mutilating his last thought as the shards pierced his brain..
I felt an odd peace.
that peace of justice and contentment.
but then the sirens ***** the silence...
and my fury rose once more.
Jul 15, 2010
Jul 15, 2010 at 6:33 PM UTC
If my dear love were but the child of state,
It might for Fortune’s ******* be unfathered,
As subject to Time’s love or to Time’s hate,
Weeds among weeds, or flowers with flowers gathered.
No, it was builded far from accident;
It suffers not in smiling pomp, nor falls
Under the blow of thralled discontent,
Whereto th’ inviting time our fashion calls.
It fears not policy, that heretic,
Which works on leases of short-numbered hours,
But all alone stands hugely politic,
That it nor grows with heat, nor drowns with showers.
To this I witness call the fools of Time,
Which die for goodness, who have lived for crime.
1.3k
As I sit here today,
apart from society,
hit with this cold,
feeling not well,
I struggle again
to find my purpose
in this world,
as I often do.
But if I have just
helped out one person
and I know I have
I already laid
a firm foundation
which leaves room
to be builded upon
some more,
perhaps by me,
perhaps by someone else
coming along.......
the floors,
the walls,
the ceiling,
the windows,
and the roof,
or simply planting
a seed in the garden
which will from one
tiny beginning
spring up life.
Dec 8, 2009
Dec 8, 2009 at 6:14 AM UTC
It is moonlight. Alone in the silence
I ascend my stairs once more,
While waves, remote in a pale blue starlight,
Crash on a white sand shore.
It is moonlight. The garden is silent.
I stand in my room alone.
Across my wall, from the far-off moon,
A rain of fire is thrown . . .
There are houses hanging above the stars,
And stars hung under a sea:
And a wind from the long blue vault of time
Waves my curtain for me . . .
I wait in the dark once more,
Swung between space and space:
Before my mirror I lift my hands
And face my remembered face.
Is it I who stand in a question here,
Asking to know my name? . . .
It is I, yet I know not whither I go,
Nor why, nor whence I came.
It is I, who awoke at dawn
And arose and descended the stair,
Conceiving a god in the eye of the sun, --
In a woman's hands and hair.
It is I whose flesh is gray with the stones
I builded into a wall:
With a mournful melody in my brain
Of a tune I cannot recall . . .
There are roses to kiss: and mouths to kiss;
And the sharp-pained shadow of death.
I remember a rain-drop on my cheek, --
A wind like a fragrant breath . . .
And the star I laugh on tilts through heaven;
And the heavens are dark and steep . . .
I will forget these things once more
In the silence of sleep.
1.2k
592
What care the Dead, for Chanticleer—
What care the Dead for Day?
’Tis late your Sunrise vex their face—
And Purple Ribaldry—of Morning
Pour as blank on them
As on the Tier of Wall
The Mason builded, yesterday,
And equally as cool—
What care the Dead for Summer?
The Solstice had no Sun
Could waste the Snow before their Gate—
And knew One Bird a Tune—
Could thrill their Mortised Ear
Of all the Birds that be—
This One—beloved of Mankind
Henceforward cherished be—
What care the Dead for Winter?
Themselves as easy freeze—
June Noon—as January Night—
As soon the South—her Breeze
Of Sycamore—or Cinnamon—
Deposit in a Stone
And put a Stone to keep it Warm—
Give Spices—unto Men—
1.1k
I can feel in my soul tonight's cold again
In this household he builded
When he's the only one in control
My mind is going crazy
My pride, my dignity, gone missing
To the oblivion of his heartless body
I can't breath, I can't move,
I'm held frozen in his emotional prison
and physical trauma
I'm addicted to the feeling of freedom
I've created in my mind;
Wanting for more when he chained me
In his lustful embrace
Bruising my soul in every touch he made
I remember the rhythm of his breathing,
With the smell of drunken breath;
He whispered in my ears;
Closing my eyes;
Pulling my hair;
He said, "Oh darling, be a good marionette
to your husband"
I can't breath
I wanted to scream
I can't move I wanted to run
All I can hear is my heart racing;
I'm held frozen in his emotional prison
and physical trauma
Then he walked out of that door,
The door to my only freedom from his abuse,
But I don't have the key to set me free;
I couldn't deny I prayed in the dark
Facing to the Heaven
To set me free from the strings;
As if he is a Puppeteer
and I'm his little Marionette;
In a pull of the string,
I'll be the good doll ready for his command
I can't breath, I can't move,
I'm held frozen in his emotional prison
and physical trauma.
Apr 1, 2019
Apr 1, 2019 at 7:58 AM UTC
145
This heart that broke so long—
These feet that never flagged—
This faith that watched for star in vain,
Give gently to the dead—
Hound cannot overtake the Hare
That fluttered panting, here—
Nor any schoolboy rob the nest
Tenderness builded there.
957
It is moonlight. Alone in the silence
I ascend my stairs once more,
While waves, remote in a pale blue starlight,
Crash on a white sand shore.
It is moonlight. The garden is silent.
I stand in my room alone.
Across my wall, from the far-off moon,
A rain of fire is thrown . . .
There are houses hanging above the stars,
And stars hung under a sea:
And a wind from the long blue vault of time
Waves my curtain for me . . .
I wait in the dark once more,
Swung between space and space:
Before my mirror I lift my hands
And face my remembered face.
Is it I who stand in a question here,
Asking to know my name? . . .
It is I, yet I know not whither I go,
Nor why, nor whence I came.
It is I, who awoke at dawn
And arose and descended the stair,
Conceiving a god in the eye of the sun,--
In a woman's hands and hair.
It is I whose flesh is gray with the stones
I builded into a wall:
With a mournful melody in my brain
Of a tune I cannot recall . . .
There are roses to kiss: and mouths to kiss;
And the sharp-pained shadow of death.
I remember a rain-drop on my cheek,--
A wind like a fragrant breath . . .
And the star I laugh on tilts through heaven;
And the heavens are dark and steep . . .
I will forget these things once more
In the silence of sleep.
953
Im tired of hurt and pain
So my heart grew cold to everything
Im pushing everyone away
no one can break through these walls
play on my feeling not again I say
till the one I builded these walls up for comes along
Break them with ease and im back to square one
Jun 3, 2017
Jun 3, 2017 at 4:42 AM UTC
Something in you is just so perfect.
The way I look at you, like the way I looking at the sky.
I feel so blessed.
And when I smile at you is like I watching the galaxies moves.
And when your browny eyes meets my coffee eyes, is like I can feel the outer space spinning around,
And when we talk, everything that slipped through out your mouth, making me can feel the gaze of the sun.
And,
All at once.
You just so beautiful to me.
Not in the way you look or the way you set me on fire.
It's just you,
The way you are making you beautiful.
I never regret to meet you.
If in the end I feel regret, I hope that's not a farewell.
When we laugh together,
When we talk eye to eye.
And when you feel the same exact way as I am,
Even you can guess what I really feel without I'm telling you what happen first,
It feels like I'm flying in the sky of New York City at night with my own wings,
And when it happens,
I feel like I'm the best girl in the world.
All the girls must have felt jealous of me because of what you did to me.
And I don't even care about love when I'm with you.
Really, it seems so perfect when our eyes meet and it blinks quirky.
I love every little things that we do.
I don't care if it's harmful or even dangerous or make other thinks that we're idiots.
I don't give a **** about it.
When it comes to you, it makes me feel realized how great this life.
I feel like,
Only you can make me feel what I want to feel.
I have nothing to hide or be pretentious calm in front of you.
Because when I'm with you, I can be myself and I'm proud of it.
Yeah, you make me proud of who I am.
Only you, can make me feel like this.
Even you know I love someone else (him),
You always act like you don't care.
It's like not a really big deal for you.
I don't know why you treat me like this.
Treat me like I want to be treated by him.
But you always here, for me.
For making me smile, laugh, and happy again.
I just hope that it will last forever.
Wherever I go, wherever we go,
No matter what decision we'll make tomorrow,
You have to promise me that you will always be like this,
Be my friend, be my best friend, my best ever friend that I've ever had.
I don't know who we are when people wants us to love each other,
Not about friends but more than that.
Ew I won't let it happen,
Because I know how easy to flip the feelings for a sec even we've builded it for years.
I know how awkward the situation would be.
I know how hard everything will change by just a sec.
So please, don't you ever change.
yours best partner,
-dlx
Jun 30, 2016
Jun 30, 2016 at 3:03 PM UTC
I was standing there
In the heart of crossroads
Blindly staring at the unfamiliar road signs
Traffic lights must have misheard my wheeze
They shifted before I could breathe
Inexorable headlights race towards the freezing me
As if magnet and metal were meant to be
I am here, facing back
Tracing the road I wanted to wrack
With thought of facing the crack
Measuring the weight to repack
Memories of morning sun heating away the haze
Passion of youth in this town had become blase
Fleeting replays of ugly truths in these old days
So I stepped out the lies builded with ablaze
I will be moving, starting from here
By the side of crossroads
Slowly walking away from these rusty road signs
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 1:44 AM UTC
I remember as a little kid
how life seemed,
how crazy the things were
that I so easily dreamed.
How I wished for adulthood
while holding an ice pop in my hand,
how I imagine living in the castles
I builded out of sand.
But for a life like this
I weren't ever prepare,
yes I got the tale
but it's sure not fair.
Maybe if I got the chance
to go back to yesterday,
I would've appreciated the time
I still have left to play.
-ZvZ-
Oct 29, 2015
Oct 29, 2015 at 2:24 AM UTC
I’m in a dilemma,
And don’t know how to get out?
The friendship we used to have,
Isn’t working out!
It builded so strong,
So great & so good.
I really don’t know why?
It ended so rude.
I remember the time not so long ago,
When we laughed & played all along.
We were the best of friends,
Or atleast that’s what i thought
I thought i was loyal,
And i know i was telling the truth!
But so many things went wrong,
And there’s nothing left to do.
There are no words that can help me explain,
That how much i cared whenever you were in pain.
I only wanted the one last look,
At the beautiful puzzle we used to share.
We all go through life,
With love of friends & family.
Even though we know,
They too someday will leave us eventually.
Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 10:48 AM UTC
For the past month, I've partially got know you. Even though its been over the internet. I feel as if you're the one, you're usually the only thing on my mind. Sometimes I dream about meeting you, seeing your beautiful face and amazing smile. Looking at those beautiful lips, and listening to your soft voice. Listening to you laugh at my not so funny jokes would be "lit". Sometimes I wish I could just have a normal conversation with you that'll flow smoothly. I even wonder why you still bother talking to me at times. You're so beautiful and intelligent, any guy would be lucky to have you. I wished I had you. My thoughts for you go deeper than imagined. This really isn't a poem. It's just a bunch of bundled thoughts that I've builded up over the past month and couple of weeks. And my feelings for you are growing. As each day goes on I see you in my future, just you and I having a wonderful and successful life. Some day I'd like to waske up and just say, "thats all me". And just laugh as I look at your beautiful face and just kiss you. One day I hope that I can make you mine. I wanna know you better, explore with you and go on many adventures. My passion for you goes deep. I wanna attend your dance recitals one day haha. This is probably the ********* I've ever written, but i hope its worth it, because you're worth it and I want you.
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 10:20 PM UTC
This state of mind
Is more than complicated
This date of mine
Is not but all created
These walls at my side
Means that i’m fated
This builded mind
Is more than complicated
And by my side
I don’t know how i’ll call these things
If there is fire
You know, my blood will be setting
But it’s alright
In all of my life, i’ve been stranded
In this state of mind
In which, my empire just stay jaded
Jun 24, 2018
Jun 24, 2018 at 9:46 PM UTC
*Shield Me, Oh Heavenly
I've Been Waiting For The Storm
And In This Light I've Been Making Trails
And The Worrying Is On A Dime
Not Worth My Time
This Masks
These Dark Shadows
This New Name
It's Builded On Me
But, There's A lot Of Questions , "Why"
To Stay Out Of Hell
Master Of Disguise*
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 8:45 AM UTC
daws cry on my roof,
viewing musty lights,
builded high on rocks.
seven towers sing
your old song, now gone:
this is not my fault.
asking opus surf-khan:
why no waves, no proof?
vanish, vanish, man:
daws cry on my roof.
tragic eastern pittance,
gas-wronged breath aloof.
banish, banish, man:
daws cry on my roof.
pigeon paper truths,
accusing hoodlack lights,
still nigh in vox.
earthly powers belt
some old hymn, now dim:
this is not my fault.
Jul 21, 2019
Jul 21, 2019 at 4:42 PM UTC