"creeper" poems
Everyday I'm falling deeper
I stalk you like a creeper, creeper
Nothing can keep me away
EnderMen better stay away
I'll travel to the Nether for you
I'd **** the EnderDragon for you
I started with 10 hearts to spare
But now I couldn't really care
The only heart that's really crucial
Is the one I give to you
I've traveled deserts, plains, and seas
Fought cougars, Ghasts, and rotting zombies
I've looted desert temples and villiages
I am nothing but a pillagar
I'll love you until I'm very old
But its as hard to find you as a stronghold
I started with 10 hunger to spare
But now I couldn't really care
If you're hungry, I know what I'd do
I'd give all my food to you
Because I love you (Minecraft)
I really do
Dec 1, 2012
Dec 1, 2012 at 1:20 PM UTC
Nothing is really mine except Krishna.
O my parents, I have searched the world
And found nothing worthy of love.
Hence I am a stranger amidst my kinfolk
And an exile from their company,
Since I seek the companionship of holy men;
There alone do I feel happy,
In the world I only weep.
I planted the creeper of love
And silently watered it with my tears;
Now it has grown and overspread my dwelling.
You offered me a cup of poison
Which I drank with joy.
Mira is absorbed in contemplation of Krishna,
She is with God and all is well!
*
O my King, my father, nothing delights me more
Than singing the praises of Krishna.
If thou art wrath,
then keep thy kingdom and thy palace,
For if God is angry, where can I dwell?
Thou didst send me a cup of poison and a black cobra,
Yet in all I saw only Krishna!
Mira is drunk with love, and is wedded to the Lord!
*
The heart of Mira is entangled
In the beauty of the feet of her Guru;
Nothing else causes her delight!
He enabled her to be happy in the drama of the world;
The Knowledge he gave her dried up
The ocean of being and becoming.
Mira says: My whole world is Shri Krishna;
Now that my gaze is turned inward, I see it clearly
14k
Ye who enter here, beware
Of wolves and mine shaft pits, take care
Or ye shall taste the bitter death
That comes upon the creeper's breath
Thy survival, on the good
Of other players rests
Upon thy house a naming sign
Each person must *****
And when night falls, take care that ye
Who stalk the halls at dark
Set up a light for ev'ry turn
A stick lit with a spark
A bone to catch a wolfie with
Some cookies fresh to eat
And in a furnace, toasty warm,
We have to roast our meat
To mine the caves and tunnels deep
To delve into the mountains
And when the water gushes forth
We then create the fountains
Sell your wares, o Cobbler man
I've melons many to spare;
An axe, a sword, a shovel stone
Oh? You like my hair?
Here we go, see yon moon rise
The world in the starry twilight
I have not seen the whole world yet
Would you take me there by starlight?
Unspoken fear; the creeper hiss
Blew up my trusty door
And now all manner of verminous things
Have crawled across the floor
If only I had a wolf to my name
Three bones to win his love;
Then he could save me from--I shudder--
The Enderman above.
No armor have I, nor sword of iron
Stone and wood are mine
The wooden stairs that lead up high
Tell me, who had all this time?
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 5:47 PM UTC
Tongue in cheek I detest you
Hand over foot
Make a peep *****
And I promise I'll ****** you
Bad tact I'm a cesspool
Festering in the nestle of your daughter's
well developing *******
Everyday I follow her home from school
This unnerving pervert unearthing fervor
making ya catatonic &
giving your heart murmurs
Nurture the thought
It's just the tip
(Of the iceberg)
Gotta stir the paint before you make a mural
Ma'am, I'll purloin your ham purse until my burial
Don't be a sourpuss
It's final
I'm vile
And I swear I'm not a *********
Want some candy?
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 7:23 AM UTC
A NEW GAME OF BLOCKS AND MINING,
I STAND ON A SHORE OF SAND.
I LIKE IT; IT DOESN'T GET IN MY SQAURE FEET.
I LOOK THROUGH PIXAL EYES
AROUND AT MY SURROUNDINGS;
THERE'S AN OCEAN OF UNMOVING BLUE,
A MOUNTAIN OF STONE AND CAVES
BEYOND A FOREST OF BUMPY GREEN.
I THEN TURN AND THEN,
I SMACK A TREE WITH MY SQUARE HAND.
I EXPECT PAIN BUT THERE IS NONE
AND THE RESULT IS A TINY BLOCK OF DARK WOOD
FLOATING A GAP IN THE TREE IT ONCE FILLED.
I STEP FORWARD TO COLLECT IT,
BUT IT FLIES TOWARD ME AND INTO ME;
I WILL IT TO APPEAR IN MY HAND AND IT DOES.
MY EYES GROW BIGGER AND MY BLOCKY SMILE GROWS
BIGGER THAN THE PIXELS THAT MAKE UP MY FACE.
I RUN AROUND, COLLECTING WOOD
AND LAUGHING WITH A CRAZED FACE.
AS I CATCH MY BREATH, I NOTICE IT'D GETTING DARK
AND I TURN TO SEE A HORRIBLE FACE OF GREEN
AND I HEAR A HISSING NOISE.
I CAN ONLY CRY OUT AS THE THING EXPLODES,
WITH A SICKING EXPLOSION AND A LOOK
ON MY CUBE HEAD THAT SAYS
“F*** YOU, CREEPER!”
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 3:53 PM UTC
blushing hues
preserving precious nutrition
the sun is moving closer
releasing fingers that once reached high
tumbling to the ground
drying out, and crinkling
the sun is turning its face
allowing the next phase to begin
insignificant
like tiny ants crowding the cracks
minuscule
like the creeper ******* nutrients
*one "being" on earth
one earth, in the middle of "space"*
ancient methuselah,
your mycelium branching-
entwining, and communicating
giving strength to brethren
as hibernation takes hold
birthing fungi anew
***orange, browns, yellows and reds
i give my breath away***
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 5:48 PM UTC
Mine is Gopal, the Mountain-Holder; there is no one else.
On his head he wears the peacock-crown: He alone is my husband.
Father, mother, brother, relative: I have none to call my own.
I've forsaken both God, and the family's honor: what should I do?
I've sat near the holy ones, and I've lost shame before the people.
I've torn my scarf into shreds; I'm all wrapped up in a blanket.
I took off my finery of pearls and coral, and strung a garland of wildwood flowers.
With my tears, I watered the creeper of love that I planted;
Now the creeper has grown spread all over, and borne the fruit of bliss.
The churner of the milk churned with great love.
When I took out the butter, no need to drink any buttermilk.
I came for the sake of love-devotion; seeing the world, I wept.
Mira is the maidservant of the Mountain-Holder: now with love He takes me across to the further shore.
~~~~~~~
mere to giridhara gupaala, duusaraa na koii |
jaa ke sira mora mukuTa, mero pati soii ||
taata, maata, bhraata, baMdhu, apanaa nahiM koii |
ghaaM.Da daii, kula kii kaana, kyaa karegaa koii?
saMtana Dhiga baiThi baiThi, loka laaja khoii ||
chunarii ke kiye Tuuka Tuuka, o.Dha liinha loii |
motii muu.Nge utaara bana maalaa poii ||
a.Nsuvana jala siiMchi siiMchi prema beli boii |
aba to beli phaila gaii, aanaMda phala hoii ||
duudha kii mathaniyaa, ba.De prema se biloii |
maakhana jaba kaa.Dhi liyo, ghaagha piye koii ||
aaii maiM bhakti kaaja, jagata dekha roii |
daasii miiraa.N giradhara prabhu taare aba moii ||
____
Notes
I am the translator of this poem, "Torn in Shreds" by Mirabai. I did not copyright it; it's in the public domain and everyone is free to help themselves to it. I simply request that it appear with my name as the translator.
Johanna-Hypatia Cybeleia
4.8k
I couldn't begin to repair
His broken wing.
Born of the bluest of blue skies
Soaked in kerosene, sitting on tinder
his intentions have fallen
to a blanket, fettered with
pine bark, rotting leaves,
rich soil and dark magic.
His tiny heart, as small as a poppy
seed beats faster than a drum
His tiny form yearns to catch the breeze
to the nectar of the next Trumpet Creeper.
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 7:51 PM UTC
Bright flashes of red
Give away the Cardinals.
Chick-a-dee-dee-dee
from the capped visitors.
Warning! Warning!
Shriek the Blue Jays!
Loud as a siren
our tiny wrens.
Crowned with a point
the titmouse displays.
Dressed to the nines
the juncos present before a storm.
Sparrows flock about
White crowned ones too.
Nuthatches scampering
like the squirrels around the limbs.
Brown creeper so shy
round and round the trunk.
Mockingbird flashing white on the wing
singing multitudes of songs.
Crows hold caucuses
along side the road.
Whirring wings buzz
Hummingbird zips on by.
Feathered friends on the wing
Speak to nature's diversity.
Feb 20, 2011
Feb 20, 2011 at 7:52 AM UTC
Mine Is Gopal
Mine is Gopal, the Mountain-Holder; there is no one else.
On his head he wears the peacock-crown: He alone is my husband.
Father, mother, brother, relative: I have none to call my own.
I've forsaken both God, and the family's honor: what should I do?
I've sat near the holy ones, and I've lost shame before the people.
I've torn my scarf into shreds; I'm all wrapped up in a blanket.
I took off my finery of pearls and coral, and strung a garland of wildwood flowers.
With my tears, I watered the creeper of love that I planted;
Now the creeper has grown spread all over, and borne the fruit of bliss.
The churner of the milk churned with great love.
When I took out the butter, no need to drink any buttermilk.
I came for the sake of love-devotion; seeing the world, I wept.
Mira is the maidservant of the Mountain-Holder:
Now with love He takes me across to the further shore.
3.5k
shallow creeper
blindly seeks
subterranean passage
horizontal
push and ******
fingered shoots
in compliant ground
purple sword
arcs skyward
a deception
yet to unfurl
gold to conceal
the tangle
underneath
perennation
in unfavorable
seasons
propagates
subversive
perpetual
regeneration
Oct 12, 2016
Oct 12, 2016 at 12:46 PM UTC
(20 minute poetry)
And then we split
torn apart,
divide and then
in a little bit.
a piece of time
we are fine
again to smile
again.
It's all about the odds and ends and really,
Yes really it's only time that bends the space we're in and
as it passes we stand tall again.
Time,
the
creeper,
Time,
the
secret keeper,
Time,
the
infiltrator,
Time disguised
and time the reaper.
And then we split to form,
to be reborn,
to live and laugh and
smile.
I wait awhile and time goes on.
Dec 24, 2015
Dec 24, 2015 at 3:41 AM UTC
The city skyline
so far removed from home
chimney pots and aerials replaced by
redbrick buildings amidst fume stained concrete towers
rooftops infested with rusting air condensers
clematis and virginia creeper replaced by
conduit and cables, the ivy of the city clings to every facade
country life contrast
urban decay cannot last
function over form
May 20, 2010
May 20, 2010 at 7:04 PM UTC
There blew winds of change,
Immoral they made me forget,
Forget the pure form of love.
Entwined around this heart,
The dreadful poisonous creeper,
How they **** all life inside.
Perhaps you misunderstood,
Blaming someone else I am not,
Because I was the gardener.
Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 9:45 AM UTC
A creeper once was planted,
On a cold North-facing wall,
The gardener wanted her to spread,
To cover the bricks and all.
In the weeks that followed,
She strove her best to grow,
But the sun was so unkindly
And the frost so cruel so.
Alas, one day a child at play
Broke off her slender stem.
'It's no use' she cried
'I'll never grow again.'
But she was so courageous,
A brave, hidden spirit she found
And started sending up new shoots,
Directly from the ground.
One day she got her just rewards,
For all her courage and strife,
The gardener came and transplanted her,
To start a brand-new life.
Now on a warm, South-facing wall,
Where the sun kissed her all day
And the gentle breeze caressed her,
She grew and grew away.
She grew so strong and beautiful
And when the tale is told.
Her crown of joy was autumn,
With her leaves tinged red and gold.
Keith Wilson . Windermere UK 2017.
May 12, 2017
May 12, 2017 at 5:50 AM UTC
a poem i wrote briefly in homage to my legit airport creeper.
August 25, 2011
Face to face, definitely not a warm embrace.
Eyes on me, make me nervous enough to ***
Creeper, Creeper.
Please don't follow me hoooome.
Creeper, Creeper.
Go stare at something of your ownnnn!
Dec 24, 2013
Dec 24, 2013 at 7:28 PM UTC
Starting over is never easy, especially when you've been dropped off
in the middle of nowhere.
How do I survive?
Looking around all I see are trees and dirt.
Far away I see what appears to be sand,. cactus and alittle village on the horizon.
It's evening, darkness is will soon be approaching.
Some type of shelter is needed, it's a musssssst.
I start wacking at trees and digging up dirt, will it be enough?
Will I be able to construct this dwelling before night?
Finally!
This dirt shack will have to do.
It's pitch black.
Is this a dream or a nightmare?
I hear frightening sounds,
Groanings
Someone's trying to beat down my door.
I go out of the side door, to take a look
I see a Zombie creature, I turn to run and see a creeper trying to sneak
up behind me.
Why did I venture out?
Had to fight.
I'm tired, made it back though.
A bed sure would be nice.
It's a jungle.
What am I doing out here?
MINECRAFT!!!!!
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 1:50 PM UTC
A long trailer
In a sombre forest
Two young boys creep
Through a long corridor
One blond and fair
The other is sometimes mistaken
For an immigrant from India
The floor is sticky and smells
From spilt pink lemondae
Scooby Doo cries out from the TV
"Jeepers Creepers it's the Creeper!"
The two boys watch wide eyed
Scooby's antics and Shaggy's
Immense appetite
They giggle and scream
In delight
As a ghostly axe misses Scooby
By a hair
The movie is over and it's time to go
It's dark out, scarily dark
They laugh nervously
But jump into the large truck
Both clad in the trappings
Of young explorers:
***** sweat pants
T shirts with wolves
Hair bleached by the sun
Skin dark and freckled
Finger nails ***** from building forts
And muddy shoes from testing
If river banks are as solid as they look.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 8:49 PM UTC
some days, his eyes are full with angst
his arms down his sides, with his fists as closed as his ears
and all I want to say is *I know how it is
to be so angry you don't know where to go
because the whole world lights you up like a dry stick of explosives,
how it is to have your feelings being so big they start to feel
like extensions of your limbs,
waving uncontrollably
and all you can do to avoid their friction from setting you on fire
is either to cut them off or keep your arms down your sides*
but I step aside, because he can no longer take in my words
his six year old eyes are filled with the nothingness of
an anger so big and unlabeled
but someday, I will tell him and he will understand
I will tell him that even though my blood is not in his veins,
I will cleanse it from soot and silt,
I will be his human shield from this world
I will tear kingdoms apart and slay every last creeper
just to help him level up
and I will uncontrollably, explosively and unconditionally
love him
//
vissa dagar är hans ögon fyllda med ångest
hans armar längs sidorna, med nävar lika hårt stängda som hans öron
och allt jag vill säga är att *jag vet hur det är
att vara så arg att du inte vet vars du ska ta vägen,
för hela världen får en att tända som en torr bunt sprängämnen,
hur det är att ha känslor så stora att de börjar kännas
som förlängningar av dina egna armar och ben,
okontrollerbart viftande
och allt du kan göra för att förhindra att deras friktion tänder eld på dig
är att antingen hugga av dem eller hålla armarna längs sidorna*
men jag går undan, för han kan inte ta in mina ord längre
hans sexåriga ögon fyllda med ingentinget
av en ilska så stor och oettikerad ilska
men någon dag ska jag berätta för honom och han ska förstå
jag ska berätta för honom att även fast mitt blod inte flyter genom hans artärer,
ska jag rensa det från smuts och sot,
jag ska vara hans mänskliga sköld från den här världen
jag ska slita kungariken itu och döda varenda creeper
bara för att hjälpa honom att levla upp
och jag ska okontrollerbart, explosivt och villkorslöst
älska honom
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 4:46 AM UTC
Soul reaper, night creeper, dark angels and spirit teasers.
With no hearts or hearts of ice that will not accept you as a teacher.
But beware of their lust; their lies that can make you cry,
Because only the light can shine to show your path in the night.
Soul reaper, heart stealer, evil doers and demon pleasers.
Who stay up late, with no hope but faith, that lurking out your gate.
To come in at night and take a life, leaving a family in fright with hate.
Soul reaper, evil redeemer, satan the saviour of all broken dreamers.
Why now, why here, why them at this time and hour.
Yes, death is assured to every being, but why other's are earlier.
Soul reaper, night creeper, dark angels and spirit teasers.
With no hearts or hearts of ice that will not accept you as a teacher.
But beware of their lust of lies that can make you cry,
Because only the light can shine to show your path in the night.
Apr 7, 2018
Apr 7, 2018 at 8:08 AM UTC
15-10-19
I want you to read this.
Know that I'm a psychopath.
It would be easier if you hated me for creeping up your neck.
For holding a snare around your ankle.
For being obsessed and inhuman.
If I'm not human. If I'm not real. I cannot be hurt.
And since your opinion matters the most in this hour, tell me I'm surreal. So I can surrender.
~
Barefoot.
Floor.
I wish you could see me now.
Slowly moving my body to his lyrics.
"Oh mother I can feel.."*
Breath in my mouth so I won't die.
If that lust is too mad.
Then bury my flesh and mind among the soaked leaves.
As long as your skin grab my limbs, I'm fine.
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 6:48 PM UTC
his voice echoes continuously through my mind
repeating those same fluid words
like ripples on the surface of an endless pool of water
again and again.
That same photographic memory
of four beautiful seconds
filled with brilliance and easy laughter
is in high definition
playing on an endless loop.
It tears away every outside thought,
accelerating and building in a crescendo
driving out the rest of the world.
his gaze sweeps over me
in its path around the room
and evanescent as it is,
it causes my heart to flutter,
threatening to fly away
I'm left with an image branded on my mind
of eyes the color of antique coke bottles
Those kind eyes
begin to take on a menacing edge
in my memory
piercing deep into me and allowing
intense insecurity and admiration to flood in
as i recall the treasures behind them
Like most artists, he has no clue
that he's an incredible writer
but, as the days pass by in class
we start to let him in on the secret
yet, he still refuses to accept it
his sweet, shy smile
always talks down his brilliance,
clouding his depth
like he almost fears his own words
That expression of near embarrassment
when people enjoy his work,
mixed with the thought that he's so incredible
tears me up
and i strive to measure up
while he simply shrugs it off,
almost unaware of his excellence
like he's staring into a ***** mirror
I find myself thinking about it
in bed at night
when the rest of my anxieties
team up to press me under the day
in a deep, wildly-colored sleep
When the morning finds me
and the sun pulls me back to Earth
I stretch out my arms and
draw in the fresh scent of the new day
but as i fall into my usual routine,
the memories and insecurities and inferiorities
creep up to the surface of my thoughts
and I wonder if I'll ever move past this stage,
listening and admiring from afar
Suddenly an idea strikes me
and i press my pen to my paper
using his medium
to release what I've held in so long
Jan 3, 2013
Jan 3, 2013 at 9:56 PM UTC
It slowly continues to argue with me day in and day out.
Like a creep following in the shadows,
it decides to elude me no matter how I feel.
As the mandolin plays its sad tune,
and the guitar only remembers the sound of minor chords,
the melancholy erodes the wall that has protected the people since birth.
Taking its time to analyze and devise,
making plans and biding its time.
The edge defines the lie that it says is inside.
Maybe the next ship will take me along.
Maybe it will sail farther away than the last one.
Maybe its anchor will drop on more pleasant shores.
As I scream at the city that has been my home for so long,
As I stare into its ugly face,
I no longer know which way to go.
Do I go to the harbor and board the boat?
Do I search for my creeper in the alleys and roads?
Or do I stay where I am and take heart to the fact that I am still taking breath?
Why are you staying by my side?
You should go.
Why are you still waiting with me in line?
Don't you have better places to be?
When the night is angry and the clouds block out the moon,
I wonder if it will find me?
When the weather is sour and the day looks like the night,
I wonder if it will find me?
Anyway, I choose you, stay by my side.
Any path I take you have loved me despite the tide.
Any time I wept you were there with me and you cried.
Why do you stay when I am in the fray,
When my anxiety shoots you like a gun,
or when my anger manifests and stabs you like a knife?
I look over my shoulder and the creeper is there.
Always ten paces behind no matter which way I twist and I turn.
I look over my shoulder and I see you coming up beside.
You're reaching for my hand and telling me to trust.
I close my eyes and let you guide me to where I should go.
I release any semblance of control.
The sun finally breaks the clouds and the creeper steps aside.
Still, ten paces behind but comfort are by my side.
The sun brightens my face and I begin to cry.
For the night was long and the day has finally come.
The day is finally the day,
and I can see the bay.
The boat is right where I left it.
I look to you and you say it's okay.
So we take our steps and board the boat looking for better shores where we can play.
Jun 18, 2021
Jun 18, 2021 at 2:32 PM UTC
One-sidedly decided arrows,
vacillating ellipses;
equilaterally considered triangles,
biased Isosceles;
worlds, whorls, rectangled
squares, afflicted rhombuses;
A self-destructing nova.
The night opens up,
a book of wonders across the sky,
shining in the stars; broken moon;
Wading across ancient expanse.
Flashes of illumination:
lighted mountain bush,
cross rising on the eastern sky;
One look at the visage,
blooming out of this figure
wrapped creeper-like around faint
sight, flower emerging in silver light
out of the shadows: bubbles,
rolling, nonagular, collapsing;
Oh pointless ratiocination!
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 1:34 PM UTC