"cordiality" poems
Dear Beloved Uncle,
Of all the smiles I’ve seen,
It was yours that was the most serene.
Of all the seas in the world,
I found yours the most unparalleled,
For your sea had mighty waves of cordiality.
Of nearly all the conversations in the world,
It was yours the most exemplary.
For I've heard only pristine and lily-white words from you.
May 28, 2021
May 28, 2021 at 12:32 PM UTC
1670
In Winter in my Room
I came upon a Worm—
Pink, lank and warm—
But as he was a worm
And worms presume
Not quite with him at home—
Secured him by a string
To something neighboring
And went along.
A Trifle afterward
A thing occurred
I’d not believe it if I heard
But state with creeping blood—
A snake with mottles rare
Surveyed my chamber floor
In feature as the worm before
But ringed with power—
The very string with which
I tied him—too
When he was mean and new
That string was there—
I shrank—”How fair you are”!
Propitiation’s claw—
“Afraid,” he hissed
“Of me”?
“No cordiality”—
He fathomed me—
Then to a Rhythm Slim
Secreted in his Form
As Patterns swim
Projected him.
That time I flew
Both eyes his way
Lest he pursue
Nor ever ceased to run
Till in a distant Town
Towns on from mine
I set me down
This was a dream.
4.8k
F-Fraternizing with people on the internet
A-Affable communication had by this set
C-Chatting happily as would a bird's duet
E-Establishing terrific friendships you bet
B-Bringing folks together in a sociable way
O-On the world wide web is where we play
O-Oodles of great mates go online every day
K-Keenly we are involved in a cordiality ray
Apr 9, 2013
Apr 9, 2013 at 6:47 AM UTC
986
A narrow Fellow in the Grass
Occasionally rides—
You may have met Him—did you not
His notice sudden is—
The Grass divides as with a Comb—
A spotted shaft is seen—
And then it closes at your feet
And opens further on—
He likes a Boggy Acre
A Floor too cool for Corn—
Yet when a Boy, and Barefoot—
I more than once at Noon
Have passed, I thought, a Whip lash
Unbraiding in the Sun
When stooping to secure it
It wrinkled, and was gone—
Several of Nature’s People
I know, and they know me—
I feel for them a transport
Of cordiality—
But never met this Fellow
Attended, or alone
Without a tighter breathing
And Zero at the Bone—
3.9k
******
A symbol of denial, congeniality, and assurance of love;
the fate of maternity, motherhood, that is witnessed
and cherished from afar.
From a sacred little haven;
from a struggle of motherly defense.
O ******
Temptations are to you never a bother,
in the tempests of lush dreams,
the draining of purity,
and veritable sensations.
Steadiness is your notion;
it barely leaves your mind
you may be deeply hurt
but never hurt,
you may be a stranger
but your grace is your power.
Truth that is unpardonable,
veraciousness at my simplest words,
clarity that is gleaming in your eye,
a token of pleasure but indestructible affection;
adorable as you are,
serenity is beyond question;
dreams are but inseparable from your docile life.
O ****** the sweetness and gentleness of thy eyes
are my irreplaceable silence,
my appraised soul,
and my most resolute
and irrepressible invocation.
O ****** one that is so rare a rose
Many as in the May-day dance are tainted;
marks of annoyance, omens of indulgence.
With hunger for nothing but moans;
unsober groans, and quickening breaths in paces of outward satisfaction;
intoxicated desires but unloving movements;
on the grounds for endless dancing;
there is the thirst for grips, the grossest of stateliness!
Voluptuous romance, perfidious touches, and
false-hearted toys!
In the wakeful dreams of which
I long for you, a handful of thy chastest kisses!
I pray for your hands, so delicate
as mine, how they shall fit into each other!
I long for your lips, your spotless, uncorrupted cheeks,
My demand is for your hands;
for sanity, and sincerest cordiality
Despite of my guilt and former unconsciousness
I shall amend my grief for you,
for you only,
for oureth perfect, unconquerable happiness,
and the union of our souls
in a day of holy matrimony.
Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 7:35 AM UTC
ruminating
cogitating
pondering
thinking
the subject matter doth
put the mind into a thought seat
is there sufficient verbs for me
to place on the paper's sheet
verbs by definition are words
which have an action
they on the reader
do have an impaction
so let's explore a topic
worth a thousand of them
how I'll express this piece
shall test my mind's stem
here is the matter I shall discuss
without any duress or manner of fuss
all over the globe there is much trouble
our planet is not as a carefree bubble
the inhabitants often observe strife somewhere
our corners of four not of an according air
were there to be peace and calmed relations
no concerns would beset our world's many nations
yet a propensity for war doth ever prevail
what sane men shall see the wrongs of this pail
verbs shall never explain man's idiocy
as he's ever involving himself in armory
yet a man who did advocate cordiality
lived with his brothers in true harmony
he was a meek man of the Indian land
a message of non-violence he did band
the lessons of history are never heard
man seemingly ever in the warring herd
the middle east is a tinder box of hell this day
exploding bombs and munitions all spray in affray
verbs of dialogue aren't put to good use
an ongoing lighting of the fuse doth suffuse
few statesmen of Gandhi's ilk now exist
so the torture and torment of war shall e'er persist
diplomacy has lost its edge around the globe
our planet shall remain bound in worrisome lobe
the count of verbs in this piece didn't quite reach a thousand
yet deaths in conflicts outdo that number by the thousands
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 5:18 AM UTC
Few freaks
have such impeccable taste,
Singing Pagliacci, smoking a Cuban cigar,
And sipping L'Essence de Courvoisier,
As he lowers you into the shark tank,
To feed his hungry pet.
Forget appearances
He cloaks himself in affectations,
And feigned cordiality
But he will take you down at the knees,
And kick your face until he can hide his shoe in your skull
Or put a bullet through your brain,
Before you can ask why he has an umbrella
When the weatherman said
No rain
Cobblepot
A name as Gotham
As Chapman and Wayne
Always dressed to the nines
He drinks the finest wines
But he can humiliate four thugs
Who try to mug him
In an alley
Cut the fools down in a fury
Steel shod umbrella,
Razorblade shoes,
And a gun up his sleeve
Appearances deceive
The definition of The Penguin
Aug 18, 2012
Aug 18, 2012 at 8:17 AM UTC
286
That after Horror—that ’twas us—
That passed the mouldering Pier—
Just as the Granite Crumb let go—
Our Savior, by a Hair—
A second more, had dropped too deep
For Fisherman to plumb—
The very profile of the Thought
Puts Recollection numb—
The possibility—to pass
Without a Moment’s Bell—
Into Conjecture’s presence—
Is like a Face of Steel—
That suddenly looks into ours
With a metallic grin—
The Cordiality of Death—
Who drills his Welcome in—
2.7k
MEMO
FROM: Mr Phil Indifrence, Strategy Chess Insurgency Corps.
Space Headquarters, Castleview Avenue, Dunstable XY10
TO: Ms Petal Dontrun, Crimson Chess Federation.
De la Wigan Headquarters, Wigan, United Kingdom, SM00
Dear Ms Dontrun,
Please accept my greetings. I write to clarify my stance on our
outstanding matters and hopefully to deter further speculation,
gossips, rumours, distortions, misinformation and sensationalism by the media.
As you are aware I contacted you on the day as arranged only to
be confronted with a response that was astoundingly unethical, un-
professional, rude, inconsiderate and totally uncalled-for. It was
so below expected standard that it raised doubt about your suit-
ability to be seen as a matured adult much less an intelligent being.
Still in the reverberations of this seismic occurrence I called again in
the hope it was a momentary loss of composure and yet again I was
subjected to a deluxe version of the first onslaught. To say I was
flabbergasted is putting things mildly, most especially as it was
totally unwarranted and underserved. It was obvious you lacked
any sense of decorum and had become an affront to common human decency and an embarrassment to your status.
In all fairness you did call some weeks later, but it had become
apparent that the ethos, protocol and cordiality that my Organi-
sation works within may not be relevant to your Organisation,
hence my unavailability to your contact.
I write to primarily reiterate that my position on this matter and
the present status quo is not based on some immature Ego play,
stubbornness, power-play or pride, rather it's in all truthfulness it's a belief in upholding standards in ethical considerations. I do not believe that bad manners, ill-considered behaviour, ill-judgement and a lack of sensitivity and good grace are matured and progressive trends to interact cooperatively within.
In conclusion, this is my stance on this matter and I hope it helps
your understanding. I believe a formal Apology from you and your
Organisation is appropriate in this regard and will instigate a
return to cordiality between our Organisation.
If you however feel this is unnecessary I will respect your decision
and the situation will remain unresolved.
I thank you for your attention.
Regards,
Phil Indifrence. C.E.O.
Feb 23, 2019
Feb 23, 2019 at 5:18 PM UTC
person's truth
present not
in rejoicing but
in repenting.
Oct 21, 2024
Oct 21, 2024 at 10:57 PM UTC
1661
Guest am I to have
Light my northern room
Why to cordiality so averse to come
Other friends adjourn
Other bonds decay
Why avoid so narrowly
My fidelity—
1.6k
Your aura is all I need.
To feel the transport of cordiality.
Your soul is as lovely as a primrose,
And joyous like a rainbow.
Where else will I taste such bliss?
Apr 11, 2021
Apr 11, 2021 at 8:05 AM UTC
Sitting in the bath once again, small blue pad in hand, bit of plastic as support, I write this poem. Albert Cat demands a bit of attention and pad slides into the water. I grab a bit of toilet paper to blot it. That makes it worse. So, blurred and vague, I reconstruct it, using magnifying glasses (2!) while watching the evening news. Here it is:
I Like Facebook
I like Facebook. I don’t know exactly why.
I like looking at the pictures,
Friends I’d never meet another way.
I like friendly messages,
Passages of verse I’d never read
If not for Facebook’s lead.
I like Likes and Comments kind,
Find in comments rich expressions.
Possibly I’m one of few - or few new millions.
I’m inspired when tired, fired up.
Even when I’ve written ‘crap’
No one’s there to trap me.
Some reviewer always sees my views,
Understands.
Someone always sends
Me praise; ends with a Like.
I’ve never had a spikey word;
Cordiality is all I’ve ever read or heard.
Commonality forever somewhere, there
Where someone wants to start a group.
Always somebody to whoop de whoop:
Somewhere folk who populate;
A troupe with common passions.
Then there are the monthly Happys:
Happy Birthdays, Christmases and Easters…
Never had one word rescinded.
Reminded gently daily:
Classmates, playmates
I’d forgotten, dovetailed,
Blazoned on the psyche;
Friends and places,
And of course, the faces -
It is Facebook, after all; the key, the glee,
A source of history.
As for weaknesses I’ve read about –
Never think to route them out,
Going ‘bout my business,
Focused on creativeness,
The lofty and the small.
I like Facebook.
Happy Facebook to you all!
I Like Facebook 3.31.2018 Our Times, Our Culture II; Arlene Corwin
Mar 31, 2018
Mar 31, 2018 at 4:01 PM UTC
Awesome comment made
always stroking and patting
Critique most welcome
.
May 15, 2010
May 15, 2010 at 11:05 PM UTC
Her expectant cordiality locked her away from you.
Where she looked
finches blossomed from the aisles.
His cigarette **** errantry froze him before you.
Where he looked
children dispersed like smoke.
Her gloved discernment hid her suppleness
like a moon in passing,
she had only to reveal a wrist.
His improvisation boredom fended off the breeze.
Where he looked
there were no women left on earth.
*
And on all these passersby,
as when one holds steady the barrel of a gun,
I have steadied my gaze.
And it is for you to know that weight.
Jul 7, 2011
Jul 7, 2011 at 7:03 PM UTC
On a whim—
I said yes.
I went to their place
ready for the awkward tension.
But she’s a good friend.
I’d simply ignore
the prodding questions
of her boyfriend
and their uncomfortable verbal altercations
always ending in “babe.”
It was especially
uneasy
that night.
He had it in his head
“his girl” and myself shtupped.
She was annoyed,
I attempted cordiality.
He’d be a good lawyer—
he asked again,
a different way.
I take it back,
he’d be an awful lawyer.
He’s a ****
She offers to drive me home.
As we prepare to enter her car,
she noticed one of the tires.
a little deflated—
three nails.
She told me had I declined
the invitation to visit
she’d probably be stranded
on a highway somewhere.
I stood amazed,
knowing my split-second yes
reverberated throughout space,
and time,
revealing an alternate future
now avoided.
Aug 13, 2011
Aug 13, 2011 at 10:42 AM UTC
*actually, the only home i have are the muddy fields of belgium during world war i, or among the jews, but given the jews are settled, i guess i better daydream: i mean i never got the cultural imprint of the english idea of dating... put me in the Czech Republic and i'd be freely participating in ****** any day... this stiffening date-culture never appealed to me, it always felt like a divorce before a marriage: so no amorous fun with body but fun in making out in cordiality of being fully dressed and lapping palettes up with tongue rather than the ******** as if throwing a coconut at Robinson Crusoe? yes?! ah crap... point towards the Zulu clan, i just feel the need to strip naked.*
yeah, i believe in meow-meow land,
that's the country next to la-la-land...
where you're trying to sterilise
yourself in terms of organic
historicity and integrate yourself
in terms of inorganic sterilisation
via importing alien values to hush
the monogamy crescendo of failure.
with the irish telling you:
ain't no english...
and with scots you shout back:
there's no thing as to be treated impossible
whether in thought about or moved!
the irish want you to have a coarse
enough accent as them so you can be belittled...
i always favoured the scots, warm-hearted ********
and i too the first hairy-shinned trans-gender
kilt loving twirly girl of a music box
of cherry tree cheaply picked Muzak
for the thrills of shopping for cardigans and pineapples.
Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 7:30 PM UTC
When winter comes, the game is over
Until then
I’m tilling the soil, in preparation for the final score
Cordiality
Before the fertility of an ordeal, which grows into the bigger picture
Displayed
Splayed open in awkward moments, momentum picking up
Dust
Doesn’t this dirt, do something… creates… With no need
Of creativity
It just becomes… Nativity bourne… Energy from the stress, stretchin
Gravity pulls
Subdues the aborted missions… Missing the survivors
One
In a million, peal through the milieu, and skews
This present
View of manure, that manifests in the festivities that brings out
The most
Beautiful black rose in spring… Arose from the black
Beneath
Neither I nor you can undue, growth… Destruction just makes room
For something
Bigger to become… Cometh the comets to renew the stigma…
Butterflies
Kiss the bees… Better fly before the sting… Before the sting…
Stung
Death becomes the unlikely pair… The pear drops, to its own despair
This pair
Dies… as the flies, cover the corpse, cadavers and carrion
Carry on
The merry married marred, and in the spoils, spring new life
Young maggots Detested by the world, enters ignorantly blissful, and springs…
Underlings
Lingering beneath the grips of hatred, when it grows, with its
Hundred eyes
It still wont see the picture… distorted kaleidoscopic optics stops it
From seeing
The whys, the wheres, the world, the web
The spider
That sits beside her… and ***** the life out her
The outer
Casings, the crust, the crevice, the crack, the core,
We see
Explore, excavate through the dust of adam, and reach the hot magma,
The lake
Of fire floods the land… and destroys another civilization
“Welcome to earth…”
Jan 12, 2011
Jan 12, 2011 at 3:18 AM UTC
I don't need help changing my tire
I need your political support
to put out this fire
set by the angry mob of course
and there's no way I can force
you to see from the high horse
you gained from light chores
so keep your random acts of kindness
as long as you cure your blindness
I think we could find this
more profound niceness
embedded within the social construct
so kindness is required and not luck
because our intermittent charity
won't achieve economic parity
making our situation scarily
here to stay apparently
so don't tell me to be civil
from behind the American sigil
that sits on a swivel
with **** symbols
and those that swindle
a nation of marks
pushing shopping carts
in a lockstep art
dividing us from the heart
so even if you mow my yard
we'll still be miles apart
separated by a canyon of cordiality
that a river of oppression runs through
carrying away our ordeal reality
as fast as guns do
when they're held by the sightless
who convince themselves they're righteous
through random acts of kindness.
May 26, 2022
May 26, 2022 at 9:05 PM UTC
Days that were, perhaps at the pinnacle of glory,
Years which were, lively and quickly,
Months that were, peaceful and brightly
Are no-where in locality,
But now weeks that are, entangled with serenity.
Ten months of tenth and its syllabus
Ten months of books and its relevance
Now to only have a glimpse of that nostalgia-
Of the hot summer days
And the cool windy days.
Started with books and teachers
Ended with exams and results.
Three sections of bonded unity
Encompassing hundred students of cordiality
And more teachers and staff of humongous sympathy.
Days when we had no books
But went to school blissfully.
The months of confusion and commotion
Are only to be thought and felt
But not be met.
Those were the days that cannot be withheld
But can be relished even after years to be dealt.
The times that were never like before
To leave incredible footprints for the years more
And to leave delightful memories forevermore.
Gently and more tranquilly if we look
There will be significant people we partook
With laid-back fellowships.
But those are the real days of tribute
Ever, that year (2011-12)
To be stamped in everyone’s memory
Ever, that year …
To stand as a much sought-after year in our lives…
Jan 6, 2013
Jan 6, 2013 at 12:46 AM UTC
If you check the forecast
I bet you wouldn't figure that all of the people who were once starring in your life will later voluntarily accept a cameo role
They'll cast the brotherhood right into the wind
No matter the degree of the cordiality
If you check the weather now the radar will predict clear skies
Eventually there will be turbidity and heavy rainfall
And a thunder storm that will send all of the forged people striking
You'll be cold as hail
But you'll rather be cold as hell
Before you be hot as pandemonium surrounded by counterfeit persons
So I encourage you to check your forecast before you cast your life with beings who's used to being trife or slight
If they're unwilling to walk with you through your tight fog
I will give you an insight
Don't allow your eyes to precipitate
Monitor your satellite
And it's so SAD about life
So you'll have to condense your map
And don't allow everyone to make the legend
Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 6:38 AM UTC
an important event shall
soon take place
where two leaders will
meet face to face
the dialogue being
diplomatic in tone
whereby they'll be defending
a distinct zone
Trump and Putin
showing statesmen like skills
as they navigate the
issues with strong wills
the world anticipates
successful discussions
which won't have any
dire repercussions
their summit must reap
a dividend of accord
for not to deliver would
be serious in record
stability is the key to
good global relations
thereby ensuring cordiality
between nations
Jun 28, 2018
Jun 28, 2018 at 8:42 AM UTC
I trust my smile
My only courier
Let not pain deprive me
At park chairs
I pick up leftovers of cordiality
***
Does the world ever suffer?
Or the individual
never learned to write
my soul….
Nor does anyone, I suppose
The jingle bells ring always
they write love letters
of true spirit
***
I pick up the remnants
from leftovers of lovers
They talk sincerely, I think
wait for love to cure these
let it cure. We will wait
wait a life time!!
Life is the most beautiful accident!!
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 10:17 AM UTC
Constancy is no more, it jabs an antonym
Dependability on only what elongates ache
Spasms cordiality that is nearly lost memory
There is a mechanism of biology unforgiving
This black box jocose
Laughing at ruination
Temptation to dive forward into flames
Rather than run
Unfailingness, ends are eventual
Everything is spotted with its departure
When you're seeing your own
Nov 11, 2017
Nov 11, 2017 at 2:32 PM UTC
Games of hilly chase
Lizards playing in the field
Ploughing beds as we chant songs
In crescendo the singers pick, rising and falling
Nursery beds are laid and cover
Into a hut all round to eat
Resting with a local brew
Swear rustics life is fun
Communal cordiality it breeds
Love and compassion it shows
Peace and unity it arrests
Marriage of oneness it feeds
Deeds of others are attain to fastly
Hunting is made by all as they share equally
Praying to gods for a fruitful harvest
Deposing one who breaks the communal law
Everything is relative to all habitants of rustic life
In fun we play in the sun and run in the rain
In fun we dance on the hill and climb the trees
In fun we laugh to our civility backing all form of disunity
by Martin Ijir
May 21, 2017
May 21, 2017 at 2:11 PM UTC