"commends" poems
~~~
for Matt
~~~
*"My suspect credibility upon the rockets of birds,
the soft parts of people,
the oceans’ inevitable, cyclical weeping,*
Who has time for poetry has more time than they deserve"
Breaking Spring by Matt Hart
~~~
your words warp me,
the woven texture of your composition,
Matt,
dumbfounding the sweeping, weeping, instant recognition in
the soft parts' of
Nat,
where credibility
long past being suspected,
simply arrested for statutory dark room
torrented questioning
deserve poetry deserve blessing deserve curse
You Jacob, wrestle with this angel witch curveball!
'tis better to give or receive
this poetry admonishment?
for who knows where the time goes,
when the fix is in,
the addiction itch,
commands and commends,
*feed the poetry *****
write or die*
one fix, one poem,
carousel leads to another,
yet,
with only time to live,
pay the bills
for renting the space you Earth occupy,
no time for illegal
compulsive word blending
the interrogator demands
deserve poetry deserve blessing deserve curse?
*who is your supplier?
who is your time stealer?*
by the ocean, weeping,
you plead innocence,
just ill drivel, needy for expulsion,
deserving of repulsion,
swear repeatedly,
never again, imbibe, scribe
*but the ***** coos in my ear,
reaching beneath
the vulnerable soft tissued skin and cells:
write or die
I thieve your time,
'tis nothing you deserve,
I am Poetry,
just your mistress,
better served*
deserve poetry
deserve blessing
deserve curse
~~~
June 25, 2016
written by the ocean, weeping
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 1:25 PM UTC
As you may admire her from the peak of a mountain
Know that she commends the gardens she made below
For His will in every season
She will make beauty out of the weeds-of-wrath
As will in the likeness of clouds
A strong woman is prized in both seasons
Don’t fall for folly when you only catch her touching the stars
Mar 9, 2020
Mar 9, 2020 at 8:59 PM UTC
she spoke to me, on the daffodil sweetness of the pasture
while the grasses, waving, muttered their moist message on the wind
of rot, and renewal,
(but hold your lips, be still for an explosion of intimacy, for a moment)
'Are those a constellation?' she asks.
"The Pleiades."
'You don't know that.'
she doesn't care where the car begins, exhaling gently, to stop
and she commends its forward motion
(the keening love of a sodium light
and forgetfulness in every bone of my body)
I love the thrum of it, below my feet,
murmuring vibrato in the pedals.
They have a Huck Finn cave display at Disneyworld. In Adventure Island, or somewhere, or one of us, deep in the vastness of spines and fingers.
Its fiberglass walls are a portrait of America -
the glean of dew a reflection of that spirit
that drove us over the borders, the rivers, to Oregon,
so we could love under a naked moon,
and renounce our lives of glee, and security
for the bright unsettled plantation of the starless fields.
'You don't know a constellation from a cloud of dandelion seeds.'
But oh, my relentless pioneer love, I do - I know a constellation
is made of stars, and rough determination, and I know that,
love is a today thing, and we are yesterday people
that pain is tomorrow, and we will always be children of the dusk preceding
destined, dear, to find our love receding
Are you prepared, or will the wilderness this time swallow you?
Feb 23, 2010
Feb 23, 2010 at 10:46 AM UTC
i was scared to try, scared to fail
but if i never strike the iron while it’s hot
then I’ll never get my man of steel
i was blind to see the colours bleed
scared to bare witness to the unraveling
but to heal is to release
baggages, bandages, bruises of cool tones
repair the foundation before building the home
aligning with intent, the present a reformed man
actively pursuing my desired amend
arrows shot from cupid’s hand
Adonis’ kiss, Aphrodite commends
May 31, 2024
May 31, 2024 at 1:21 PM UTC
On tattered wing of memory
Came the pallid Ghosts of Autumn,
Those solemn gaunt's of Autumn
Swept swiftly in to chill the day,
Their faces long and glum
And coats long and gray.
Down to take the valleys Czardom
Claiming night and claiming day
Rode the gaunt, gray Ghosts of Autumn.
Those thrones were overtaken
From the sundered Summer Devils,
The lordly Devil's of Summer.
And we have not mistaken
We who live in the lands of Almer
Know the cost of war is taken
From father, son and daughter.
As we await the return of the forsaken
Crimson Devil's of Summer.
For soon will come the chilling
Ancient Kings of Winter
Those savage Kings of Winter
And no blood will thus be spilling
As our logs turns to cinder,
As the Kings will then be killing
For vanity and splendor,
The shades of Fall will they be conquering
Those ageless, Kings of winter.
And from the Gaunt's essence
Shall rise the Maids of Spring,
Evergreen and supple Maids of Spring.
To pass the Winter King's defense,
Sans iron and thunder, these lovely things
Will woo and exhaust their frozen senses
Then silence and ****** the Winter Kings.
And Almer lands will grant happy commends
To the glorious Maids of Spring.
Yet these are but forethought's;
Soft now approach the Ghosts of Autumn
Those mild, soulful and solemn
Beautiful wraith's of Autumn.
Soon Almer shall be sought
By Kings, Maid's, and the Devil's Ransom
Our hearts shall ever be owned, but ne'er bought
And we will pay our lords so handsome.
For now our land shall be rendered and wrought
By those gray gaunt Ghosts of Autumn.
Nov 10, 2011
Nov 10, 2011 at 10:47 PM UTC
There was once a blackbird with a sadness in her heart
Who had a song hidden within tearing her apart
So one day when she had enough
She put on her brave face and got tough.
Her song went like this :
Why is the truth so hard to tell
When you know I know you oh, so well.
You see, you think you've had me fooled all along ?
I think that commends, for a round of applause!
For your acting was quite great.
Please don't allow your ego to inflate.
Because what you did was quite cruel.
A soul with no moral concept of the basic golden rule.
I choked on the lies that were told.
On the hurt that you bestowed.
Upon an innocent bird, whose undying love always endured.
I thought I was broken,
for the necessary words that were never spoken.
But, I'm no longer a victim of circumstance
for I have been given a second chance to see...
That the truth I needed to hear was always in me.
So the beautiful blackbird was able to heal.
Finally able to know what was truly real.
She soared up high forever singing her truth of love and the power it has to forgive all lies.
Aug 21, 2015
Aug 21, 2015 at 12:52 AM UTC
i.
Creation's not of mistake, nor of
Natural selection, we art not of
Darwinian theory, nor of
temporal direction.
ii.
We slumbereth neath the
gipseian bleujaday, captured
By the great painter's hand;
King and queen of the mid-
Night crave, wax of glim's
On crystal stands.
iii.
Eurasian ether, creational
Blend, the mountain's do
Shaketh, when heavesia
Commends.
©Brandon Nagley
©Earl Jane Nagley ( Filipino rose) dedicated
©Lonesome poets poetry
Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 9:03 PM UTC
“We read to know we’re not alone.”
C.S. Lewis says, as a character in the film Shadowland
~~~
my lovers mumble when they leer and clear the
assorted sordid, livres with dust jackets, spines,
and notable ideas, POV’s that dare to offend; me
thinking seeing they’re uneasily resting uneasy, for
there appears to be some scales, mountains that need
mounting before they can successful scale my
heights, a big BE WARY atmospheric global warning
signs prior to enter my magic kingdom,
quizzes they are unassuaged they will pass
with any color schema,
let alone flying ones…
that amuses me, ah well, a sign of my changes, when
those days when a merely handsome man turned this
now skeptical-woman agog, and flushes of heat made
a breast beat, a flesh and blood chin, *** eyes, rock me
like a movie poster definition of movie poster handsome
they are smarter and when they cautiously inquire re my
diversity, a broadening array of fiction, philosophical disput-
ations, that lay and lie with me, they, and I bare skinned,
open to the ah ha! of titillating notions of human endeavor,
or British ****** mysteries, and lots and lots of history…
this commends and cerifies
my screening choices for,
when alone, I read
to know I am are not alone,
for my thoughts need hot
company, and my caress
of divers words diverges,
in so many directions, I need
assurance, insurance that the
men who wish to bed me are
capable of making love to my
mind, where stimulus and that
they can feed me endlessly a
variety of bouchées amusantes,
that wet my appetite for their
entirety
should they fail,
to for want of trying,
I comfort them obliquely,
informing them that
”We need to read to know we are not alone!”
Mar 3, 2024
Mar 3, 2024 at 8:33 PM UTC
To tell the Saviour all my wants,
How pleasing is the task!
Nor less to praise Him when He grants
Beyond what I can ask.
My laboring spirit vainly seeks
To tell but half the joy,
With how much tenderness He speaks,
And helps me to reply.
Nor were it wise, nor should I choose,
Such secrets to declare;
Like precious wines their taste they lose,
Exposed to open air.
But this with boldness I proclaim,
Nor care if thousands hear,
Sweet is the ointment of His name,
Not life is half so dear.
And can you frown, my former friends,
Who knew what once I was,
And blame the song that thus commends
The Man who bore the cross?
Trust me, I draw the likeness true,
And not as fancy paints;
Such honor may He give to you,
For such have all His saints.
872
My ****** heart runs deep
Pulsating rivers in my veins
that once nourished me before you came
and soaked up every drop
with nothing left to reap
while the flak of your memory still remains.
The day we met,
Temperate winds cradled leaves fresh from their vines,
unseasoned by nature’s trials.
Today,
they lie crumbled among debris
broken wilted pieces in scattered piles.
Carefree days that had no price
Oh how you yearned to woe me
Companion nights; they did suffice
Until troubled longing riled the sea
Did you sense the suspense?
Naked under the burrow
Of sullen sheets enveloped in scents,
stale and past
You: my daring knight of chivalry
Whose promise did not last
and so the wind said unto thee,
“set me free.”
Morning tastes dewy tears trickling into memories we hoped to never speak again
Shifting through the seasons
the beginning of the end
I willed my seeds to grow through the disdained soil they’ve rooted in.
Leaving them grimy rot staked in solace
Feelings left dead sprout a calm that quickly frames trust
What purpose serves a creation left abandoned in the dust?
Hear it. Speak it. See it as it comes.
In dreams they lay tiles under trodden feet.
Steps that cannot be taken up again
and so commends your defeat.
One day, in autumn or is it spring?
The anxious blossoms danced away in the wind.
You swept them up with swinging arms
Urging every pedal to descend
From weeping barren trees foiled from your charm
Words back then took form in a man
Working a path inside a woman’s heart
Mapping her wishes into works of art
Now lie down upon this mold
of every simple broken thing you ever tried to fix
It isn’t worth the truth you sold
To quell your nature with docility that shields arrogance with bricks.
When you returned sullied by days of wandering
Through decay and rotten secrets
I laid my head to rest in the crook of your neck
Sheltered by my need, unseen by your gaze
This moment of clarity, I locked inside my ****** heart
where it will rot and die through the passing days.
Jan 16, 2011
Jan 16, 2011 at 6:21 PM UTC
Have your precious words bow down to my needs, were they can justify these undescribable feelings, you inflicted heavily upon me.
I need your words to purify this unjustified burden of the ever lasting beloved love.
Cleanse me with your beauty, for love could never speak the way you preach your angelic melodies.
I want you, to invest your hands deeply onto my hips and let your words be the music to my ears, while we slowly dance our fears away.
Your lustful voice reignites our love where it teaches us to overcome their false sincerity, were we classify as lovers of love.
You dominate me with your compelling eyes, ****** me with your trustworthy smile, and now I'm forevermore bound to this love of ours.
Only you could,
stimulate me with your charm,
interests me with your smile,
enchant me with your lips
and
hurt me with your kindness.
I only yearn, it all be from you.
Can you give me the power to defeat these troublous wishes and commends?
-Ethiiochick
Oct 25, 2015
Oct 25, 2015 at 12:26 PM UTC
as deeply as this envious state crawls into my bloodstream
I could never desire the admiration you receive
because you are cherished only for your beauty
no person commends the light you shine oh so ever brightly
you're not appreciated for your aptitude
your dreams are disregarded among the souls of the ungracious
I pity you as you dwell in your permanence in the sky
forsaken is your very existance
you are doomed to that title for an eternity
so while you are worshipped by millions
it is a shallow approbation
and I would rather be loved by no one
Jul 8, 2010
Jul 8, 2010 at 10:32 PM UTC
It scurries upon each tainted step,
Countless of seeds sprung beneath its paws,
Beckoning the way to its meal,
Stirringly commends its scheme to await,
Treacherous pounce from a rock to another,
Claiming its place beneath the trees,
A knowing nod to the skies above,
As it leaps towards the clueless quarry,
The mice squeals at the sudden departure of its own life,
Wrangling between the jaws as it shuts it close,
A lively tether released from its tenure,
With a feast to *****
A burrow from where it thrives,
Invaded by its own demise,
The content stoat gnaws the brown fur,
A mouthful filled with the recently deceased.
By Sarah Shahzad, June 2025,
Jun 13, 2025
Jun 13, 2025 at 3:06 AM UTC
You are a majestic creature just the way you are. Every curve, flaw and imperfection makes you who you are. Makes you so distinguishably stunning. Makes your brilliance that much more deep-seated.
Meticulous study that must be done by you first before anyone else; in order to accept and love yourself wholly.
Meticulous study and keen scrutiny on every inch and corner of this majestic body; in order to be able to be at peace and thank entirely.
~Existence of great appreciation of self before receiving commends from others.
~Loving yourself first before seeking love.
Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 3:22 PM UTC
the turning circle of the years
is so set up that we must fail
must fall into the grinding gears
give up and go with one last wail
lift up our eyes and see our friends
heads bent with tears and then set sail
there's no great purpose that commends
itself to us no message sent
in the pale wintry light that bends
upon our heads and won't relent
lying on the floor in solemn bars
where the sole word is discontent
at night the clouds will hide bright stars
Feb 20, 2010
Feb 20, 2010 at 8:54 AM UTC
The angel of death wears a MAGA hat
And commends the work
Of his marketing and rebranding director
As they synchronize
Their Apple Watches to close
The circles of hell.
The charnel house market is about to boom and
He’ll offer the best capacity at top dollar prices
He’ll pocket the profits and stiff the contractors unless they’re stiffs already.
Even the angel of death might have an ethical quandry with this.
Our differences fade at the cemetery gate
Where we’re being processed like bottles at a redemption center
Where It means nothing unless he can pocket the deposits
And crow about his ratings
about how he’s the best
And if you look for salvation behind an artificial tan
You might as well be dead already
Like the space behind those eyes.
Apr 2, 2020
Apr 2, 2020 at 9:29 PM UTC
If it were only me I would stand in the line of fire
feel my body turned gymnast contort as the bullets riddle
kiss the ground with prideful lips, rise, and implore for more.
but life is a cruel dictator and commends my brethren to torture along side of me.
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 5:12 PM UTC
I caught a glance from you within the crowd
and held with mine your eyes surprising long
if looks could be deemed so your eyes were loud
and so by seeing eyes I heard a song.
by this sweet music we two looked and danced
although we never touched or shared a word
oh, this is how the ancestors romanced
they looked and danced and loved to songs unheard.
This history commends you to the bone
so every step we dance moves all of me
and so the crowd might well leave us alone
for they are deaf that see not what I see.
Now senseless they insists it's senseless I
but they know naught that have not seen thy eye.
Oct 2, 2016
Oct 2, 2016 at 12:30 PM UTC
release me
i am shaking with broken wings just beneath the rafters of your home
shifting shapes and twisting arms to find a basement in my bones
stuck in boxes with no top to hold the mess that i've become
another scar, a second lover or tale that's just begun
and this is how it will begin: your mess will fill my broken ends,
our stories start the same, my friend - we suffer for our own commends.
i didn't want to freak you out, but i have to say:
everyone you love will tear you down
and before you know it, you will hardly remain--two empty cigarette boxes and a well-worn frown.
-aprilxcv
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 11:55 PM UTC
A voice in my head often whispers, "I give up, who cares?"
But of course I would feel this way
A part of me doesn't get why I try so hard
With the apathetic people around me,
I'm slowly losing purpose and reason for trying
What's the point?
Because when I give a ****
I except others to give more than a blank stare
And I hope I keep trying, aspiring
For in the future, I'll be deserving and I'll take commends
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 9:41 PM UTC
He posts a poem
He sits and waits
Hoping people can relate
To the words on his pad.
He posts a poem
He keeps eyeing for comments
Hoping for critics and commends
To show his words have value.
He posts a poem
Silence.
Finally peace
With his internal demons,
He posts a poem
To silence the torment
His words completely absorbent,
Killing each demon within him.
He posts a poem
To extinguish the flame
That is to blame
For all his sadness and despair.
He posts a poem
Not for anyone else,
But for himself,
A seemingly innocent task
But an internal cry for help.
HELP!!!...
Silence,
Once again
As he posts this poem.
Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 6:19 AM UTC
your hands once held me like,
father to new born son.
with such profound delicacy,
afraid to harm.
now you treat me like your art work [¡]
not in that_sweet, cheesy kind of way
but in that_
hate, despise at the same **** time
kinda way..
These blue and purple Marks, all over my body
all from you.
my skin is your paper
those fists became the brush
you, ink my body like you own it.
carve your way through as though trying to produce a statue out of me.
glowing with colours i have never seen before. stop using my skin to compete with the rainbow. i am not an experiment. do not create new colours on my skin.
...
fist is spray can.
punch- graffiti's
no place left untainted.
no area unpainted.
[though]
with every swing,
i scream i love you.
every healing scar,
yells it forgives you.
my skin salutes you .
your masterpiece commends you.
one day, remember me as GOD'S temple again?
[and]
i hope you never have scars from hands that once loved you,
hands that once glorified your body. holding it high like the touch of liberty
may you, never feel a physical paintbrush
roughly
brushing against your skin.
i pray.
your fists get tired of hitting
and your body, tired of fighting.
Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 9:34 AM UTC
Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]
On the Events of 13 July 2024
…that we but teach
****** instructions, which, being taught, return
To plague th’ inventor. This even-handed justice
Commends th’ ingredience of our poisoned chalice
To our own lips.
-Macbeth I.vii.8-12
Jul 13, 2024
Jul 13, 2024 at 9:42 PM UTC
Eyes dilate and look distant as Will puffs upon his pipe.
The distinctive scent of Cannabis commends itself tonight.
Each puff makes him mellow and his imagination soars.
He dwells not on the tragedies his future has in store.
He dreams on Fairy Kings and Queens, Young lovers showing pluck.
“What fools these mortals be.” I’ll give that line to Puck
His shrew wife will have none of it she only scowls and scolds.
“His blood!” Will thinks, she needs a puff of what this clay pipe holds.
He likes it well, this gentle herb that lulleth him to sleep.
He will awaken ravenous and need something to eat.
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 2:12 PM UTC
when the underdog
becomes the undisputed
the once doubted, shamed-
famed as ill-reputed..
takes the world by storm
a sea of disbelief
demolish every construct, norm
to give the world relief
to redefine the past
as a salubrious origin
for the present that commends
all your life decisions.
Aug 5, 2021
Aug 5, 2021 at 2:02 PM UTC