"chiefly" poems
We made all possible preparations,
Drew up a list of firms,
Constantly revised our calculations
And allotted the farms,
Issued all the orders expedient
In this kind of case:
Most, as was expected, were obedient,
Though there were murmurs, of course;
Chiefly against our exercising
Our old right to abuse:
Even some sort of attempt at rising,
But these were mere boys.
For never serious misgiving
Occurred to anyone,
Since there could be no question of living
If we did not win.
The generally accepted view teaches
That there was no excuse,
Though in the light of recent researches
Many would find the cause
In a not uncommon form of terror;
Others, still more astute,
Point to possibilities of error
At the very start.
As for ourselves there is left remaining
Our honour at least,
And a reasonable chance of retaining
Our faculties to the last.
7.8k
Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright!
The bridal of the earth and sky—
The dew shall weep thy fall to-night;
For thou must die.
Sweet rose, whose hue angry and brave
Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye,
Thy root is ever in its grave,
And thou must die.
Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses,
A box where sweets compacted lie,
My music shows ye have your closes,
And all must die.
Only a sweet and virtuous soul,
Like season’d timber, never gives;
But though the whole world turn to coal,
Then chiefly lives.
5.2k
1414
Unworthy of her Breast
Though by that scathing test
What Soul survive?
By her exacting light
How counterfeit the white
We chiefly have!
5.2k
Lennon told me Paul was strawberry
George reminded me love trumps lord
Overboard overcome overwrought
Flower child fishtailed dovelike all aboard
Come together
Get yourself together
Soldered together
Like joint dance banners painted to promote teenage ******* to youth
Tied us into our best days ahead of us
Chained to our ***** we swung like gamers
Untied to our integrity
Wrecking wreaking havoc
Ballooned on hubris
Hemorrhaging ego unlocked spewing spite
I respect good works deeds above good intentions
Road paved with broken glass
Don’t respect me when I’m gone
Tell the folks it’s OK to sing along
Let’s spend the night together
Talk all night in the altogether
Rather gather in clover and heather
Happy Ringo’s nest a featherbed
Laying lady laid cunning linguist
‘xplain to me in chiefly straight talk
Who questions whom?
Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 1:16 AM UTC
Burnt out heroes
in amongst the burning plans of villains
Fearless- in amongst trying to be like your heroes
within comic feelings. Sounds comic; chiefly
read in pages of a lifestyle. Naked eye strips,
greyish looks of cloud lids filled with rain in my
eyes
Heaven is crying every night, a thousand
angels in a stormy night
Reminiscing fallen angels from that hole
in the sky. Human are too fallen; those lost
of conduct or virtue- a hole in their soul's closet
the devil that urge you. Church who; probed
questions of your faith to search you.
As I refer to you being trapped in your mind
off it's strict curfew
Even as a role model plays a perfect smile
there's still an act to keep thoroughly
But in that case when fans aren't around,
their face peels away the skins of lie
No need to practice your lines
no need to pretend to be a star out of Hollywood
like light's shine. Shyly acting free!
The end of the scene, a role model no longer blind
when they're now unseen
Skin grey
un rubbed emotions, and cracking sounds
drawing river lines on the skins display
All applauds are gone; just you clapping by
yourself under the clap of thunderstorms
Still feeling empty, even with the person you
brought home, bought home- to come and practice
those secrets tabs of your chrome
At times trying to be anti pessimistic
anti climatic, of all you've achieved and all
those childhood wishes
Swimming with the ugly fishes; selfish needs
you couldn't have had before
It's the role models, having crowds dancing
to their tune, all pressing their head on the floor
Can't mask a flaw, only disguising it until
it all comes out in the world
No role models left,
just the ashes of their dead careers and
immediate deaths. O yes, success tickles
the ears—as common sense becomes so deaf
All is grey, grey is the colour of my heroes,
forgetting they all started as imperfect people
Jan 18, 2023
Jan 18, 2023 at 4:09 PM UTC
Love, faith and forgiveness principal are in
Christian school. Torrid anger thou must flay
While it's still displaying on the eastern tray
Ere its set on the *** laude of thy sterling
Prize. The other meek cheek of thine turn--
Though tough--to him that seek thy burn.
Gladly go not one but twain miles with
Him that bid thee. Distribute cheerfully
To widows cream bread and wine; the needy
And orphans--whether you're rolling in it--
Never neglect, and make no open show
Of thy charity: its trumpet do not blow.
Make mammon thy master nay. Believe
The Bible though you cannot It fathom
Out--the Spirit thy heart will guide. Kingdom
Eternal chiefly pursue; to goodness cleave.
Both parents and priests honour, and men
In authority obey. Keep the Lord's pen.
Fast and pray, playing not to the gallery.
In heaven's safe thy treasure store, where
Robbers and rust have no access nor share.
For worldly wants, soul, never you worry--
Jehovah-Jireh above knows thy very need,
Who gives in season due to the sower seed.
Salt and light on earth be. Thy righteousness
The Pharisees' must exceed. All differences
Reconciled, lest thy balance draws offence
By heaven's audit. Loincloth of faithfulness
Wrap. At a lady be weary to leer, and thy
***** bridle. To God thy heart wholly tie.
The log in thine own eyes first remove
Afore thy brother's speck you see. Grudge
Not but ask, seek and knock. Don't judge.
Such measure from others expect to them give--
Golden rule. Strive to enter in at the narrow
Gate: the rough, rugged road to the end follow.
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 7:34 AM UTC
To-night ungather'd let us leave
This laurel, let this holly stand:
We live within the stranger's land,
And strangely falls our Christmas-eve.
Our father's dust is left alone
And silent under other snows:
There in due time the woodbine blows,
The violet comes, but we are gone.
No more shall wayward grief abuse
The genial hour with mask and mime;
For change of place, like growth of time,
Has broke the bond of dying use.
Let cares that petty shadows cast,
By which our lives are chiefly proved,
A little spare the night I loved,
And hold it solemn to the past.
But let no footstep beat the floor,
Nor bowl of wassail mantle warm;
For who would keep an ancient form
Thro' which the spirit breathes no more?
Be neither song, nor game, nor feast;
Nor harp be touch'd, nor flute be blown;
No dance, no motion, save alone
What lightens in the lucid east
Of rising worlds by yonder wood.
Long sleeps the summer in the seed;
Run out your measured arcs, and lead
The closing cycle rich in good.
1.9k
Oh, talk not to me of a name great in story;
The days of our youth are the days of our glory;
And the myrtle and ivy of sweet two-and-twenty
Are worth all your laurels, though ever so plenty.
What are garlands and crowns to the brow that is wrinkled?
’Tis but as a dead flower with May-dew besprinkled:
Then away with all such from the head that is hoary!
What care I for the wreaths that can only give glory?
O Fame!—if I e’er took delight in thy praises,
’Twas less for the sake of thy high-sounding phrases,
Than to see the bright eyes of the dear one discover
She thought that I was not unworthy to love her.
There chiefly I sought thee, there only I found thee;
Her glance was the best of the rays that surround thee;
When it sparkled o’er aught that was bright in my story,
I knew it was love, and I felt it was glory.
1.8k
Live all thy sweet life through
Sweet Rose, dew-sprent,
Drop down thine evening dew
To gather it anew
When day is bright:
I fancy thou wast meant
Chiefly to give delight.
Sing in the silent sky,
Glad soaring bird;
Sing out thy notes on high
To sunbeam straying by
Or passing cloud;
Heedless if thou art heard
Sing thy full song aloud.
O that it were with me
As with the flower;
Blooming on its own tree
For butterfly and bee
Its summer morns:
That I might bloom mine hour
A rose in spite of thorns.
O that my work were done
As birds' that soar
Rejoicing in the sun:
That when my time is run
And daylight too,
I so might rest once more
Cool with refreshing dew.
1.8k
Be not thou silent now at length
O God hold not thy peace,
Sit not thou still O God of strength
We cry and do not cease.
For lo thy furious foes now *swell
And *storm outrageously, *Jehemajun.
And they that hate thee proud and fill
Exalt their heads full hie.
Against thy people they *contrive *Jagnarimu.
*Their Plots and Counsels deep, *Sod.
*Them to ensnare they chiefly strive *Jithjagnatsu gnal.
*Whom thou dost hide and keep. *Tsephuneca.
Come let us cut them off say they,
Till they no Nation be
That Israels name for ever may
Be lost in memory.
For they consult *with all their might, *Lev jachdau.
And all as one in mind
Themselves against thee they unite
And in firm union bind.
The tents of Edom, and the brood
Of scornful Ishmael,
Moab, with them of Hagars blood
That in the Desart dwell,
Gebal and Ammon there conspire,
And hateful Amalec,
The Philistims, and they of Tyre
Whose bounds the sea doth check.
With them great Asshur also bands
And doth confirm the knot,
All these have lent their armed hands
To aid the Sons of Lot.
Do to them as to Midian bold
That wasted all the Coast.
To Sisera, and as is told
Thou didst to Jabins hoast,
When at the brook of Kishon old
They were repulst and slain,
At Endor quite cut off, and rowl’d
As dung upon the plain.
As Zeb and Oreb evil sped
So let their Princes speed
As Zeba, and Zalmunna bled
So let their Princes bleed.
For they amidst their pride have said
By right now shall we seize
Gods houses, and will now invade
*Their stately Palaces. *Neoth Elohim bears both.
My God, oh make them as a wheel
No quiet let them find,
Giddy and restless let them reel
Like stubble from the wind.
As when an aged wood takes fire
Which on a sudden straies,
The greedy flame runs hier and hier
Till all the mountains blaze,
So with thy whirlwind them pursue,
And with thy tempest chase;
*And till they *yield thee honour due, *They seek thy
Lord fill with shame their face. Name. Heb.
Asham’d and troubl’d let them be,
Troubl’d and sham’d for ever,
Ever confounded, and so die
With shame, and scape it never.
Then shall they know that thou whose name
Jehova is alone,
Art the most high, and thou the same
O’re all the earth art one.
1.4k
There was an Old Person of Ewell,
Who chiefly subsisted on gruel;
But to make it more nice
He inserted some mice,
Which refreshed that Old Person of Ewell.
1.4k
1024
So large my Will
The little that I may
Embarrasses
Like gentle infamy—
Affront to Him
For whom the Whole were small
Affront to me
Who know His Meed of all.
Earth at the best
Is but a scanty Toy—
Bought, carried Home
To Immortality.
It looks so small
We chiefly wonder then
At our Conceit
In purchasing.
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...seemingly routine,
the circumstance at hand
the fire burning books made by my fellow man
burn away his knowledge with the ham-ring of keys,
“burn away his ashes-
do with the riches as we please”
such things are the enticing lies of the world
the same men who lust are the same men who burn
“do unto others as your fellow man”
we’ll do what we want and we’ll wilt at the end…
looking above,
the light changes the tune
and all that was bleak
is bleaker once more,
but truly, vibrancy occurs; downpours
how colors as if drawn by invisible force,
recede, concur, conceit, remorse
valleys plunge into whites, into blacks
“is this the epiphany to break down my back?”
i scream into jars
without reading their state
i know what will come
but it’s only to late
they’ve captured my heart,
away with my fate!
its true, down i fall
but more truer so,
thick vines from the ravine catch me into-
though i come breaking lose
with the weight of the weathering i bear…
i believe in the power of chiefly healing
with nothing but passion within true pain
eyes gleaming astounded as they slowly degrade
like collections of quarters left out in the rain.
Aug 26, 2019
Aug 26, 2019 at 3:44 PM UTC
I have come to realize that sunsets are
archways into a mourning and deft Earth.
Urban streets become hunting grounds –
growling crass echoes to her ears;
eerie red eyes.
Swimming in this sea, the fish come to feed –
fields upon fields of endless black concrete
caulked with hands reaching from shadows
shan't see us. Artificial lights,
like showers, swing.
She is unyielding: a light in nothing,
null to the very gravity she bends.
Belle, eyes that swallow fireflies,
fight a darkness that dawned in her:
hurt by dulled sheen.
Walking close enough, providing armor,
our coats barely touch: nylon on her wool
would give a warmth street lights can't give.
Gifted by moon's light, only then –
then I see her.
A flower, healing yellow, on her cheek
chiefly blazon the frailty of her skin.
Skiffs could take her from bottom,
but, she’s sun grayed; a soft hidden
hymn of the moon.
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 10:39 AM UTC
To-night ungather'd let us leave
This laurel, let this holly stand:
We live within the stranger's land,
And strangely falls our Christmas-eve.
Our father's dust is left alone
And silent under other snows:
There in due time the woodbine blows,
The violet comes, but we are gone.
No more shall wayward grief abuse
The genial hour with mask and mime;
For change of place, like growth of time,
Has broke the bond of dying use.
Let cares that petty shadows cast,
By which our lives are chiefly proved,
A little spare the night I loved,
And hold it solemn to the past.
But let no footstep beat the floor,
Nor bowl of wassail mantle warm;
For who would keep an ancient form
Thro' which the spirit breathes no more?
Be neither song, nor game, nor feast;
Nor harp be touch'd, nor flute be blown;
No dance, no motion, save alone
What lightens in the lucid east
Of rising worlds by yonder wood.
Long sleeps the summer in the seed;
Run out your measured arcs, and lead
The closing cycle rich in good.
1.1k
Here it is,
here's your plan
there's nothing beyond it,
it makes me sad to see you reach low like this
You want a fancy car
A fancy house
A fancy woman
(who only says
the right things,
quietly,
at the right times)
A large salary
No problems
Miniature models of yourself
well-behaved and clean
You want a stable, antiseptic love
Something static and sterile
Here's news,
If ever I was in tune with
Hermes and his speed and unashamedness,
(He was ever proud of being the God of Thieves)
His partnership with Iris as messengers
It is in speaking to you, now
My dream is not your 'American'
Because if it was,
It would be neat and profitable
Copyrighted to unnamed sources
I don't want that
I want, chiefly,
something frenetic,
Nothing tidy about it,
Cluttered with memories both wondrous and awful
A proudly imperfect man
To share flaws with
To say "You too? I thought I was the only one!"
Problems to muddle through
And be caught in
And solve, with a happy crow of triumph
A small garden, which I will probably end up killing anyway
Rambunctious, willful children
Who will not be afraid to challenge me
Whom I will teach to argue intelligently
Raised to be civil and
Above all, to be curious
I will not mind the mud
And the blood
And the pain
So much at the end
Because I will be able to die
Without shame for the life I lived
What I am trying to say,
with the hope you are not injured,
is that I don't want a part of your envisioned future
I don't want such sweet synthetic sterility
I supremely enjoy the whole of the mess
Aug 12, 2011
Aug 12, 2011 at 8:51 PM UTC
The patagone is twice the size of that which I had thought was wise.
She feeds on anything but cake just simply trail it in your wake.
But what she chiefly seeks to eat it is the cold blood in your feet.
Sep 10, 2012
Sep 10, 2012 at 5:02 PM UTC
Was dating a bag of ****
whose first impression was a megahit.
This love story was diseased long before it began.
I recall his swayful love worship was far too pagan.
Could his heart get more colder than winter?
Could his laziness
be better than his deafness?
Ooh! Let me out
so i feel the winds
Let me blackout
so i wont feel the darkness he enwinds.
Its amazing what two persons can cause.
It is honourably
chiefly poetic
to put an end to our present cause.
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 12:36 PM UTC
no matter what the peak arcs all descend
unto the earth from which they first arose
that's the most certain the most profound trend
even for one who best withstands the blows
of evil fortune or of cruel fate
falls to despair then rises to high state
no epoch should be measured by one rule
yet we insist that far beyond the cool
and shaded halls where measure has its sway
all things are governed by a simple tool
so each becomes the hero of their day
just past its height the moment seems to bend
with all the weight of ages that could close
cold time's long judgment that will never mend
either warm eyes or the dull hearts that froze
from lack of feeling or the heavy freight
of knowledge that would rise and not abate
from the bright ocean to the chiefly stool
while other wisdoms might in time unspool
we were not shown the truth but in one way
which was to lead us all back into school
so each becomes the hero of their day
there's nothing more on which we must depend
between the morning and the next repose
when all the hours will with clean music blend
so that our thoughts will come out sweeter prose
all of our motion take a smoother gait
while vision leave us with no dark to hate
returning light finds each beside a pool
bright with our hopes and in the morning cool
though being clear and apt enough for play
we can be certain that none is a fool
so each becomes the hero of their day
we have been warned against the last misrule
of ancient dodderers sunk in their drool
their grimaces the doltish things they say
enough to know we're past this basic school
so each becomes the hero of their day
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 10:17 AM UTC
a day is the moment i gulp to risen falling
Night O', chiefly last, you disease first
of each clay tough with light dressing you
its spank
on the rouged teeter of enclosing most
day. swelling are you ripe and sensual
silence behind silence. your withoutsound
womb is tethers creeped up the spine of me
to in you pulled me enclosed an instant
forever an instant. unlearning myself,
i go to where i am touched exactly
more and better than the instant light
of day. too so we all say, "hello"
Jun 10, 2011
Jun 10, 2011 at 10:11 AM UTC
An awesome cousin, you are
Of almost all things in the world, are you aware
An avid cricket and tennis lover
Around you, is there a hell lot of cheer!
An awesome cousin, you are
Never, can you be a bore
Yes, you are a bit reserved usually
But in a rather sweet way
And when it comes to topics of interest
You are at your talkative best!!
An awesome cousin, you are
Proud am I, to have you as my little brother
Your American accent is quite strong
In tennis, seldom do you go wrong
The Wimbledon camping experience would definitely not have been the same
Without you at the helm
However, you can be really funny at times
Your pronunciation of Chicago was truly hilarious!!
An awesome cousin, you are
Beyond your years, are you mature
We had a great time during the WTC final
In spite of India's disappointing performance
Thanks chiefly to your presence
Highly entertained, do you always keep us all!!
An awesome cousin, you are
May you have a fabulous future
Here's hoping we meet up soon
Like Nithya told me yesterday, we all should go on a vacation
So, have fun and keep smiling
May the Almighty shower you with many a blessing!!
Apr 18, 2025
Apr 18, 2025 at 10:52 AM UTC
I'm at a
loss for so
many things...
chiefly
words.
yet here they
are, blue in
the face.
a flailing
troubadour,
birds flocking
deafly...
thru half the
air's soul.
Nov 14, 2018
Nov 14, 2018 at 1:22 PM UTC
I think of it seldom
and briefly,
respecting my wellness
as, chiefly,
I am motivated
by my emotions
and the power
of preconceived notions
that
may
not
even
exist.
It is not
just as much as it is.
and so I think of it seldom
and briefly.
Aug 2, 2015
Aug 2, 2015 at 3:09 PM UTC
Most days don’t end with less energy;
Half meant for gathering, collecting vague trifled tasks, or conclusive unwinding.
Henceforth; this day will be on such a category, different from exclaimed, for the time being.
As I have bogged my head down chiefly; I hesitate.
Coasting on a poor diet and alcohol, the air felt layered, entwined with a mild cold.
Only passing when the breakage through season sickened branches grant be.
So forwardly put that they could do a better job. I’ve stood long enough.
Locking my fingers taunt together to reassure them with warmth.
The pacing motion began at once; Not that this was intentional.
Although, my blood provided the temporary motivation to continue on.
Now walking away came to mind.
Past all the Nightfolk that watch their windows; waiting for streetlamps to show curfew.
Not for a person such as myself to worry upon now. So I press home.
Maybe with less energy, but at least another daunting stress done.
This day had been gracious with its hours alive.
Nov 20, 2019
Nov 20, 2019 at 3:13 PM UTC
I looked through the window and saw bellowing fires
Napalm-soaked remains of my city choke the air-victims of new empires
During all conflicts of human history, death is the favored solution
Lead chiefly by ruthless automatons immune to moral dissolution
This vestige of a world is one born from dust and brimstone
I am now merely memories made of ash, agonizing the past with bitter groans
In this state of reflection, I thanked Him, for my sense of hope never retires
That is, until I looked through the window and saw bellowing fires
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 9:16 PM UTC