"daringly" poems
Faith. Hope. Love.
I don't have answers. I don't really know much.
But I know that those things ignite something in your heart, casting away the darkness of fear and regret.
When the cobwebs in the basement are cleared, you find all your old dreams hidden in corners you forgot about.
And when you pound your fist in the dirt, and say enough is enough... I'm not here to survive, I'm here to LIVE... to laugh and play and realize my deepest passions... to find the ocean of joy and invite everyone I know to swim in it with me. To love myself daringly; to dance with the darkness of my fears and invite their lessons in.
Something doesn't have to change. Everything has to change.
I'm not interested in being right anymore.
I'm interested in being ALIVE.
When you commit these things to yourself, and fight for love, for hope, for the adventure of really living all the way... something happens.
Something flips inside you, and heaven begins pounding at your door.
Life has always waited patiently on you to stop waiting patiently.
Adventure isn't around the corner. It's hiding underneath your heart.
Right here. Right now.
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 2:07 AM UTC
My dearest Frank, I wish you joy
Of Mary's safety with a Boy,
Whose birth has given little pain
Compared with that of Mary Jane —
May he a growing Blessing prove,
And well deserve his Parents' Love! —
Endow'd with Art's and Nature's Good,
Thy Name possessing with thy Blood,
In him, in all his ways, may we
Another Francis WIlliam see! —
Thy infant days may he inherit,
They warmth, nay insolence of spirit; —
We would not with one foult dispense
To weaken the resemblance.
May he revive thy Nursery sin,
Peeping as daringly within,
His curley Locks but just descried,
With 'Bet, my be not come to bide.' —
Fearless of danger, braving pain,
And threaten'd very oft in vain,
Still may one Terror daunt his Soul,
One needful engine of Controul
Be found in this sublime array,
A neigbouring Donkey's aweful Bray.
So may his equal faults as Child,
Produce Maturity as mild!
His saucy words and fiery ways
In early Childhood's pettish days,
In Manhood, shew his Father's mind
Like him, considerate and Kind;
All Gentleness to those around,
And anger only not to wound.
Then like his Father too, he must,
To his own former struggles just,
Feel his Deserts with honest Glow,
And all his self-improvement know.
A native fault may thus give birth
To the best blessing, conscious Worth.
As for ourselves we're very well;
As unaffected prose will tell.
Cassandra's pen will paint our state,
The many comforts that await
Our Chawton home, how much we find
Already in it, to our mind;
And how convinced, that when complete
It will all other Houses beat
The ever have been made or mended,
With rooms concise, or rooms distended.
You'll find us very snug next year,
Perhaps with Charles and ***** near,
For now it often does delight us
To fancy them just over-right us.
5.3k
In the twilight; out there somewhere
I can see his face; but he's what it all means
I wander though; the unchanging scenes
A plastic smile; my wordless everyday
Stronger! I want to
and still remain,
to live daringly
Stronger! I want to be;
'Cause someday I can see,
That you'll be out there for me to meet
I turn my eyes away, from this whole world
I run so far away; from me, this girl
The brilliance of reality; I want to get it back
Yet I always knew what makes it come true
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 5:27 PM UTC
~and for Harlan, who loved this one best~
*"for tandem is the ever-changing, graying color of their fierce attached tenacity"
waking/walking in
careful pacing regular lock steps,
like new cadets, counting cadence,
in perfect silent, almost motionless,
except for the minuscule quivering of
slightly parted moving lips
these two elders,
still now plebes,
freshmen
but of a latter, graduated stage,
demonstrating robustly
the slow shuffle-along,
a well practiced dance conjured
'in tandem'
her arm, crooked in his,
his other hand,
in protective custody of a
knight's armored chain glove
encasing hers,
he, shuffling just,
a precise, intended half-a-beat slower
lest she ever think
that she, ever be a drag upon him
hair, his,
threaded with daily,
new arriving grays,
proudly accepted
as the privilege of
graceful aging
hers,
disguised with periodic outings,
outings for the hidings of life's bookmarks,
conceding nothing ever to
time's lunatic desire to separate them
modest in dress,
styling hints of pasts' elegant,
the man's hat defiant,
daringly jaunty angled,
a small scarf to handbag knotted,
matching his Windsor knotted tie
the passers-by, all smile,
the signal charm of an
end game processional,
thinking so sweet,
yet mine eyes detect more,
something
hardy and radical
a fierce, fierce fierceness,
both fighters in the resistance,
armed with tandem tenacity,
ground given,
but only inches surrendered,
wounds resisted by
scar skin toughened
by the caress of ions bonding
under the pressure
of atomic level mutuality
worn out,
well past Purple Hearts,
no capitulation feared,
to the ever changing,
enemies' new disguises,
they,
a two person platoon,
each,
having the other's back
and I burst into tears on the street,
a train of out loud moans,
even groans emitted,
like a string of perfect pearls
breaking,
clattering on an asphalt terrain
weeping
not
from visions of the inevitable,
sighing
not
from the certitude of a
cycle's uptime ending*
but jealous furious by this reminder delightful,
angry at myself, for having lost so many wasted years,
mine, the loss greatest, for absent was the
fierce tenacity of tandem
Mar 6, 2017
Mar 6, 2017 at 8:41 PM UTC
1
You will not find a more willing participant
To join you on this serendipitous adventure of luck.
We will merrily hijack the trippy ride of Helios
And daringly traverse the long way around the sun.
We will sleep together in the heart of the meadow
Where sun-dappled leaves and rabbits frolic in jolly romps.
We will swim in salmon-filled rivers and go upstream
Where many-coloured coins glint upon the surface.
We will not curb our enthusiasm to conceal the truth
Fixing Nyx, we share unbridled passion upon the moon.
We will cradle each other's fears within parched lunar craters
While the world waxes on the rim of existence, our love will not wane.
Let us be more than willing to unshackle the mind
To explore lost messages in a bottle on the high seas.
2.
Yet I'm willing to journey through the darkness even
With eyes closed
In an attempt to reach you
To find you.
I am so willing to play the fool advocating love
Than to be over cautious and lose out big time.
So, I am willing you ....to let drop the scales
'Twud be astounding to have a willing....you
Willing us to deflect this way untimely contretemps
And placing us this day upon an unbroken tide beyond.....
S T, 8 May 2013
May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 6:28 PM UTC
Wildly the time flies
Moments passing in a flash
People and places never staying
Even when you wish they would.
Quickly hope ensues
That maybe they can stay
Stay near, young, and innocent
Never changing from who they were
Then despair crashes
And releases that hope
Because people change and grow
And maybe leave you behind to move
Softly longing creeps
Into your heart
Grips your mind and stays
Vowing never to let you forget
The past and how things were then
When all was perfect and true
Two hearts combined to one
Shattering the peace
Daringly you wait
For a moment to return
And bring you back to a time
A time without the pain of knowing
Slowly wanting builds
Anticipation grows cautiously
Know the pain, and the excitement at
Knowing the people you once knew again
Gracefully, curiosity sits
Patiently waiting for a moment
To spring forth and explore the world
That was left behind, gone, but not missing
Boldly excitement wanders
And reaches out to those ones
That left you behind to be alone
While still remembering who you were
Only to be reminded of pain once again
Reminded that time isn’t the healer
That mends everything broken
Only knowing hope does.
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 12:21 PM UTC
Departing summer hath assumed
An aspect tenderly illumed,
The gentlest look of spring;
That calls from yonder leafy shade
Unfaded, yet prepared to fade,
A timely carolling.
No faint and hesitating trill,
Such tribute as to winter chill
The lonely redbreast pays!
Clear, loud, and lively is the din,
From social warblers gathering in
Their harvest of sweet lays.
Nor doth the example fail to cheer
Me, conscious that my leaf is sere,
And yellow on the bough:—
Fall, rosy garlands, from my head!
Ye myrtle wreaths, your fragrance shed
Around a younger brow!
Yet will I temperately rejoice;
Wide is the range, and free the choice
Of undiscordant themes;
Which, haply, kindred souls may prize
Not less than vernal ecstasies,
And passion’s feverish dreams.
For deathless powers to verse belong,
And they like Demi-gods are strong
On whom the Muses smile;
But some their function have disclaimed,
Best pleased with what is aptliest framed
To enervate and defile.
Not such the initiatory strains
Committed to the silent plains
In Britain’s earliest dawn:
Trembled the groves, the stars grew pale,
While all-too-daringly the veil
Of nature was withdrawn!
Nor such the spirit-stirring note
When the live chords Alcæus smote,
Inflamed by sense of wrong;
Woe! woe to Tyrants! from the lyre
Broke threateningly, in sparkles dire
Of fierce vindictive song.
And not unhallowed was the page
By wingèd Love inscribed, to assuage
The pangs of vain pursuit;
Love listening while the Lesbian Maid
With finest touch of passion swayed
Her own æolian lute.
O ye, who patiently explore
The wreck of Herculanean lore,
What rapture! could ye seize
Some Theban fragment, or unroll
One precious, tender-hearted scroll
Of pure Simonides.
That were, indeed, a genuine birth
Of poesy; a bursting forth
Of genius from the dust:
What Horace gloried to behold,
What Maro loved, shall we enfold?
Can haughty Time be just!
2.5k
Your eyes resembled the troubled waters at sea,
always shimmering, churning, crashing, always making me wonder if you had sky blue galaxies trapped inside of you.
And your smile always looked as if it had been carved into your face with the same instrument used to make those marks on your arms.
I found comfort in your sadness, because that was the only time you were true to yourself.
I found comfort in your freedom. I always loved seeing you live carelessly, daringly. Insubordinate to anyone who tried to stop you.
Sometimes it worried me to see you scratch your skin after you cursed about destroying everything you touched.
Sometimes it worried me to see you lose yourself among the empty bottles of alcohol.
You were burdened with a heavy heart, and like the pupils in your eyes and the emotion in your smile and the sound of your laugh, it was vacant.
And all I could say was, maybe, just maybe, if you unclenched your fists you would've found that you were holding onto nothing.
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 3:05 AM UTC
A whisper from a shadow
Prickling at my ears
Anything you have to say
I find I long to hear
Standing still behind me
Enticing me with words
Hold my breath, close my eyes
For all that you infer
Good or bad it matters not
It's your presence that I crave
Whip me, beat me, bleed me
I promise to behave
Or at least I promise for a bit,
An undetermined time
Knowing well how much I like
Crossing over your line
Bind my hands in silken rope
And hook them to the ceiling
Leaving me on tipy-toes
For pains blessed healing
It's playful punishment
That I daringly seek
A red moment captured
Your hand print on my cheek
Or perhaps my inner thigh
A delicious smack or soft whack
Of fingertips sublime
To pull me to the present track
Help me now, you know how
To take the world away
Here I am just for you
A piquant entree
Oct 16, 2017
Oct 16, 2017 at 12:56 PM UTC
The air is brittle this ominous, wintry night.
The slivers of a life you used to know still haunt you, as surely as you have permitted them to be a haunt to others.
Without question, it is those memories that spur your ruminations; that cause your copious circumlocutions; which compell you to stand on this somber boulevard in front of this crumbling, but once stately manor that now is a languid presence with the solitary purpose of looming over the vast grounds.
It is obligatory that you proceed along the avenue that used to split the yards that are now overgrown and chocoblock with twisted vines, and thistles.
You pause, to gather your strength.
One deep inhailation and then you hold your breath as you grip the tarnished handle and lock leaver.
With a perfect measure of strength your thumb recalls, the mechanism is undone.
Your arm pushes forward.
The silence is disturbed by a warbling creak as the heavy door is slowly opened.
You exhale, then before you lose your nerve you quickly pass through the ingress and enter into the foyer,
which is instantly familiar in the dim, flickering light and the long, slender adumbrations effected by the gossamer encaked voltives jutting from the dusty walls.
Though it has remaned unchanged
throughout all the time that has passed, standing in the ornate room affirms that the warmth with which you used to be recieved here has been abandoned to a frigidity.
You feel as if this room remembers you.
This is as far as I dare go with you, my friend, though I know you must continue.
I have listened to your stories, so
I know you have many rooms to search.
The closier that you seek is in a matter that is not my own.
I will depart upon rendering these words of warning:
When visiting the past,
As you daringly explore these often haralded halways,
Be careful what you leave behind.
Take caution not to lose yourself,
For a shadow lingers in the Suite Sublime.
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 6:59 PM UTC
Waiting my turn to pay
For the items we need today;
The beans and the chili
And some picklelilli
And costly imported pate.
A headline that says glaringly
What some starlet does daringly.
What I see before my eyes
A big edition full of lies
They put here to tempt me daringly.
Where childbirth oddities
Are viewed as commodities
To put onto the front page
Soon, to become all the rage.
And two headed goats
Get the kind of public note
That should be reserved
For something more deserved.
We all know these stories
Are anecdotal glories
Made up by the magazines;
The tawdriest ever seen
And they don’t mind getting gory.
It’s yellow journalism
A sort of print format ****
Intended for the kind of fool
Who never finished school
And falls for jingoism.
Where childbirth oddities
Are views as commodities
To put onto the front page
Soon, to become all the rage.
And two headed goats
Get the kind of public note
That should be reserved
For something more deserved.
Brent Kincaid
4/18/2015
Apr 18, 2015
Apr 18, 2015 at 9:19 PM UTC
My shoes **** as I trudge down a seamlessly cemented road. The floor, only slightly lighter than the colour Black. Launching into the wide road where the sky more daringly shows itself, the sun, too, exhibits its colour hue. I can see the reflection of orange in you. The sound of cars are not evident but they exist. The traffic light goes green and the rhythm of its beeping escalates in what seems like less than its promised seconds. 5 steps into the humble gantry I have reached Yomiuriland Station. I buy my morning beverage for 100¥. I think of nothing in that repeated moment while fixing my eyes on the orange-reflected clock.
Mar 29, 2021
Mar 29, 2021 at 5:39 AM UTC
Sometimes I feel like eating some food...
But then I remember
Society doesn't want me to be fat
Sometimes I feel sad...
But then I remember
People rather see me smiling
I rather live life daringly...
But then I remember
I am expected to act responsible
I'd love to pursue my dreams...
And then I remember
Judgement should not determine my actions
Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 3:51 AM UTC
There will certainly be
A great many of them
Far readier than I’ll ever be
O blessed unborn one
Yet endowed with inexistence
To whom mercy shall slip from
And re-emerge in its awakening
Beings past or below my shrinking age
A great many among them
Whom I once did or shan’t collide
Beyond the captured scope of mutual days
To relate to you what high events
Unrolled before our common eyes
Folks granted with the privilege
Promoted to the status of witnesses
Historians, athletes and prophets
By themselves and their narratives
I let them unroll their good accounts
Forfeit their tales of what must be bound
To mould your unsuspecting
Circumspect mind and
Save you from sensing
Delicately sensing
Voices that once knew more
Than in haste speak
Than with haste carry
Daringly could the silence hear
Untangle the mumbling tango
Of the vociferous crystal parade
My darling unborn one
The tortuous path out of the forgings
Of reason almighty, the ventricular beast
Played and echoed in loops and on repeat
No, you shan’t feast on their hymns
Yours is meant for the engineering of belief
In something further, of glory,
Far more, furthermore,
Something extraordinary
Than the days of days
And the knowns of knowns
And to lodge firmly out of the stillness
That’s woven in the heart of your chanting storm
And in the precipice of the forecast
May you never come to designate
But the space between the notes
So that when it comes not to ever pass
We shall rejoice in the untold absence
That binds us as if pierced by an arrow
While we ask about the bow
Jun 24, 2023
Jun 24, 2023 at 6:26 PM UTC
My dear I’m afraid we will always be
Nothing more than chocolate and cheese.
Whilst you’re caviar, diamonds and fine Persian silks
I’m a 20p tabloid, sliced bread and skimmed milk.
Your standards: astronomical, but I’m easily pleased!
My pet, I’m afraid we’re just chocolate and cheese.
Yes - we’re simply chocolate and cheese.
Ask your sow of a mother, I’m sure she’ll agree.
She’ll tell you I’m feral and my manner’s uncouth
But doesn’t she know? She’s the living proof!
But you’re not much of a fighter, scared to disagree
Unlike me. We are merely chocolate and cheese.
Chocolate and cheese, we’re buds far apart
You love with your head, I think with my heart.
You keep your hands clean (whilst I get mine *****
And agree to whatever whilst I’m getting shirty.
If I’m daringly dairy, then you’re gluten free.
Too frightened to argue why we’re chocolate and cheese.
So, chocolate and cheese we will always be
From this moment on for eternity.
You’ve not made a case - is it because mine’s rested?
You’re too scared to fail whenever you’re tested.
You'll never be bold and explicit like me.
So forever you’re chocolate and forever I’m cheese.
Dec 19, 2016
Dec 19, 2016 at 2:52 PM UTC
Tonight, I saw you at the corner of the road,
standing, with falling shoulders and lowered head,
not lonely, rather alone with yourself,
the best company I would say,
even if it appears contrary to you at the moment
Though, your shoulders are falling,
they are gracefully carrying the excruciating pain of your heart,
those stiff muscles are holding you straight,
yes, your head is lowered down,
yet, what a marvelous posture of your body
I adore you,
your presence, existence is a source of emulation for many,
they are admiring their standing woman-man, their stoikiy muzhik,
as standing their itself is an act of courage,
that you are holding on
I don’t know what ransacked you,
must have been terrible,
but not strong enough to break your resilience,
the terseness of your being,
I adore you
Tonight, when you go back home,
don’t just reach and lay on the couch,
go in front of that mirror,
the one that you have not seen for long
let your intimate self undress you,
praise your beautiful body,
doesn’t matter whether it has gained weight or lost,
if gained, admire those layers of new flesh,
they are eager to burn themselves up for you, just for you,
if lost, praise those beautiful bones,
which are highlighting the flow of universe inside the canvas of your body,
see yourself, raise your head,
give respect to your resilient shoulders,
to your eyes which drained themselves dry to make you feel better,
see the grace and light they have when they daringly carry your vulnerability with style,
they deserve a smile,
while smiling, respect your mind, you awareness,
which is not acting as your master anymore,
when was the last time you caressed your
beautiful eyes, hair, face,
when was the last time you caressed your
breast, chest, all below,
Don’t sleep tonight,
your cupboard is waiting for your touch,
you have kept on contacting them,
but for tonight, for one last moment,
one last act of courage,
that gods themselves are not expecting from you,
shut their mouth,
defeat death, for tonight,
Touch
touch your books, shoes, clothes, diary, pen,
that beautiful lamp in the corner,
your bed that has not been made up,
touch your work, they long for your love,
and they, all of them have waited for this very moment,
just one last deed,
affirmatively whisper…
Aditya
Oct 21, 2020
Oct 21, 2020 at 11:37 PM UTC
Ditty dum, ditty doo,
Dozens of dollars disappeared,
Foolishly spent on that dame,
I would have done a dime for,
Had her dumbness died down.
Not a lick of lint in my pocket,
I reflect on our dances in the dark,
Daringly caressing her body to mine,
All of those dimes been daunted,
By my need to woo and wow her.
She had darted the way of the dime,
Out of sight, out of mind, out of spirit,
In the poverty of love and coinage,
I wallow in my woes,
As if I didn’t do this deed to myself,
Doomed from the depths of doting,
Like a ******* dodo.
They say chivalry is dead,
Yet is there nobility in poverty,
When the honest man’s motivation,
Vanishes in the night,
Into some other scrub’s arms?
A dime, a dame,
They’re all the same,
Coming and going,
The flow of cash,
The passing of lovers,
Only to learn,
That life’s one true currency,
Is the endurance of obstacles,
And we all end up bankrupt in the finale.
Dec 10, 2023
Dec 10, 2023 at 12:32 AM UTC
How sad is it,
that their is so much that needs clarity,
but it's all prevented by the very thing that gives us disparity,
it is [but of course!] the very essence, the very source,
of our own vanity.
See how the birds fly,
yes how pretty the birds are as they go on by.
But think how simple it is, that they don't care how each other looks,
and they don't need to worry about what they're being told,
by biased and characterizing books.
They prune their feathers,
and ready themselves
for any weather,
then they sing.
What do they sing?
Why do they sing?
Why is it pleasing,
soothing, comforting,
amazing and simple,
just for our ears,
why do we always worry,
about the coming years?
The mockingbird,
there's a bird, that has no care in the world,
as it sounds like whatever it hears,
it does it daringly,
and best of it all, it does it without fears.
No fear of judgement,
no care for purpose or otherwise,
it's the truest mirror of a voice,
just as it is, a truth in itself, devoid of any lies.
Mockingbird, mocking the bird,
tweeting, is what we do,
when it just gets harder to talk,
to simply me and you.
Why can't we be like mocking birds,
not mocking the birds, that fly on by,
or is this really,
the only thing that we can do?
Mocking bird, mocking bird,
sing us a song,
sing us a song,
of the things we know,
of what's right and wrong.
Won't you sing too?
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 6:01 PM UTC
I don’t want to take your suffering from you.
I want to help you suffer. Greatly. Daringly.
Suffer with all of your might- your whole being.
Let hellfire be your furnace.
Your particular brand of suffering is a complete ecosystem.
Befriend the little demons.
Jan 8, 2019
Jan 8, 2019 at 5:39 PM UTC
I felt droplets of anxiety trickle down my forehead
My mind was malfunctioning at the thought of you
Being next to me for the first time
I bit down on my lower lip, focusing on inhales and exhales
A knot in my throat forbid me to say what I've been dying to say
With my heart in my mouth but my lips sealed
He took my hand
My hand folded so perfectly into yours
Electricity traveled through my veins, my heart quickened its rhythm
You smiled
I was powering up at lightening speed yet shutting down simultaneously
You rubbed your thumb on the edge of my spongy palm
A kiss softer than feathers you daringly brushed upon my cheek
Your touch was idyllic
I felt my pupils dilate in the utter darkness
One last exhale escaped from my motionless lips
I disintegrated.
-k.v
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 10:09 PM UTC
In the billow of mercurial cataclysms
Sharp as the pyrexia of igneous pebble stones
Upon my hindquarters I was cast
The circles that were established
Branded my skin with cancerous nightmares
Crafting the twisted love song ******* my throat
Through the lavender haze I tread
Threatened by a medley of conundrums
The tongue legislating such echoes
‘tis the element I so daringly seek
Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 10:57 PM UTC
I have a weakness for a boy
with shadows in his eyes
and fire in his throat.
When he speaks,
like a dragon,
he exhales his truth
singeing all those who dare
come close.
A knowing fool,
I dance daringly
through the flames;
aching for a glimpse
behind a mask
he doesn’t know
that he still wears.
Sep 3, 2013
Sep 3, 2013 at 10:13 PM UTC
Stubborn as I am
Obstinate as I may appear to be
Determined to just be
Inflexible to restrain
Rarely looking back
Unconcerned of tomorrow
Forever in the now
Mischievous with rules
Impishly laughing to the “I”
Adventurously defying the “am”
Daringly trying out
Frightening sometimes
Intimidating from time to time
Constantly changing
Eternally living
Perpetually reinventing the “I”
Always embracing the “am”
Nov 2, 2010
Nov 2, 2010 at 12:34 PM UTC