"deliberateness" poems
Needless, pose a question:
Miracles save themselves...
Long in the tooth, looking for a blessing
Worlds to weigh, with the voice of what delves?
Minus the stone
The rue of visits and cares...
To awaken in the arms of harmony
History to a dare, to lend the kindness of what fares?
Special...
And doted upon, like a dream can feed...?
The spareness of speed in the eye, of what will
To sakes aled, and meant, to be the end of all in heed...
The pout of summation, to which we will know intimation?
Praises be, cares see, the coming order to a least...
At worthy faces, in a common hope, to live the life of sin?
Like a weary lover was, the only force of decency to cease...
Of a silent offer, of season and risk...
To these calls of opportunity, the mated chance
Of cause curious, and questioning the weight of a reason's wish
Paced with the passion of deliberateness, is a wish a saving, romance?
Feb 3, 2023
Feb 3, 2023 at 4:00 PM UTC
Captain,
suit jacket still beneath your tremor-less hands,
dark jeans as classy as any suit,
blue and black tie radiating calmness,
confidence,
you are our best.
Captain,
how you speak with such careless finesse,
words painting a picture and cutting it to shreds
and repainting it in new light,
you respond and counter questions,
a mongoose attacking an ancient cobra,
striking, winning,
grinning and frowning in perfect rhythm,
ever in control.
Captain,
you cannot win an uphill battle
when your opponent walks on air,
when spectators throw to them machine guns
and step on your fallen spears,
nor can your army
(ever willing, ever ready)
fight without you and your words
drilling through enemy lines,
ever calm,
confident.
Captain,
I have suffered the sting of defeat,
as have we all,
and I have felt the shame and fear
that flows in your blood as you hear the result,
and I see the look in your eyes
as you walk, ever steady, from the room,
foot itching to kick the walls with your radiant deliberateness,
and then you come back,
the look in your eyes one of exhaustion,
for you are tired,
Captain.
Captain,
rest your mind, hold your tongue,
let sleep and lethargy be your's for a day,
for the weekend,
for we all shall,
we, your army, who are tired and worn
from the conflict,
who have come out as victors or failures
and who cry in your dreary shadow.
Captain,
ten days remain till next we fight,
papers as swords and numbers as shields
beneath fire from questions like missiles
which we must deflect,
somehow,
and we will be ready, Captain,
we, your army,
in our suit jackets and clicking heals,
will lead you as you lead us:
to victory.
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 7:59 PM UTC
Walk,
as far as these feet will take me.
Moving with deliberateness,
laden with calculated purpose.
And knowing that every time each foot
successfully meets the earth,
I would always be somewhere new.
Each step would feel perhaps
unfamiliar ground,
shed new light, see fresh faces
and experience different days.
As long as I stay loyal to the course...
Always moving...
Walking,
into the sun.
Sep 12, 2019
Sep 12, 2019 at 2:35 PM UTC
(pin drop silence)
There's two of us,
Echoes of imaginary sounds,
Echoes of silence,
Secrets along with lies,
Hearths warmed as the light succumbed to darkness,
Saw nothing but your shadow,
You chose my soul for my heart and opted to keep me as 'your secret string attached to your soul' ,
Yet ,'I love you', you'd say
Easy for you to say, all that seemed to be deliberateness though you said it wasn't deliberate, but that fractured my heart, just so you know,
Day after day,
Step away, after another step away,
Lie after lie,
We we're falling,
Drifting apart,
Fed me with deceptional beautiful lies,
Perfection though not a friend,
You we're too imperfect,
Tired of playing pretend,
Hidden expectations,
The struggle of being right or wrong, not so sure what it was,
Lovestruck I once was,
The far we'd come was the end, or so it seemed,
Road to ruins,
You went on one knee,
And I said what you expected me to say or not,
But certainly what karma expected me to say,
And now forever you'd be, the scar never to be erased,
No! it was,
We had drifted too apart,
Beyond saving,
Not even a ring would,
Walking away would,
We stumbled and we fell and broke what was remaining of us to ever rise again,
We had scattered into too many pieces...
We bend and this time we broke......
Mar 7, 2017
Mar 7, 2017 at 12:07 AM UTC
E.J. pulls the last one out of the box,
slowly now,
with his forefinger
and thumb.
The fore
is square.
Almost cut.
Like he'd taken a box-cutter
to it after inhaling
all that BUD Light
in that dangling,
shimmying
hose in the truck.
The thumb is normal.
He lifts the Pall to his lips
with the deliberateness
of a crane operator
laying the last brick,
before the whole thing
burns to the ground
in fluttering, liquid ashes.
The fore is useless,
so square
that the **** dangles
even when he pinches it.
And E.J.
looks down at it with those watery
fire-choked dog-blue
eyes
and
exhales a
spectre.
Jun 28, 2012
Jun 28, 2012 at 12:41 AM UTC
In the darkness of nights,
Utter silence being the only thing 'heard',
A whip of memories-beloved memories
(dragging the well-hid wills out of the walls
Into the open)
Creating,out of gloom,
An undesirable flash of light-torturing the very substance of eye-
Which but the day did well,
And now the night,in question,better!
In the brightness of days,
Damning all to the delusion of wellness,
The Sun,
(With all 'his' vehemence and maleficence,in a villainous deliberateness)
***** the last vial of that mirth,
One might,at night find.
Alas, all that remains,
Is an empty vessel,
Worthless.
May 13, 2018
May 13, 2018 at 8:04 AM UTC
the sun shown scarlet on the shore
and the day faded away
small feet sunk slow into wet sand
as they too seemed to fade
wavy hair tossed playfully
in the cool evening breeze
and the last moment of sunlight hit her eyes
I stood transfixed –
with seeming deliberateness, she turned her gaze
and I felt pieces of my heart crumble
falling within my chest cavity
finding rest only in the soles of my worn shoes
a word caught in my throat
bringing moisture to my eyes
it was then she looked back at my face –
wishing there were words to descried the beauty
I could only smile and extend my hand
placing her tiny pale fingers
into my rough and calloused hands
a love filled me
that I thought was reserved for fairy tales –
Each new day I remember
thirteen years of these moments
and as the sun shines brightly through my window
I smile knowingly
as there are so many more to come –
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 4:23 PM UTC
I walked the cloisters
smelt the incense
listened to the birds sing,
discamus aliorum merita
cicatricesque cautio
saith Jerome
Dom Charles said,
the old monk sliced
a thin slice
of brown bread
with slow deliberateness
as if he prayed
as he sliced,
I hoed the flower bed
at the back of the abbey
sun on my shoulder
shadow playing
before me,
l'ombra giocato prima di me
I told the Italian monk
as we sat peeling potatoes
in the cloister after Terce,
dans le cloître après Terce
that time I hoovered
the cloisters
deep in thought,
nel pensiero profondo
I mused on that death
and the after affect
and how it hurt me,
mi ha fatto male
the Italian monk said
to relate that my uncle
was one of Benito's followers
but we all make errors,
tous font des erreurs
to err is human
to forgive is divinus
the monk thin
and haunted looking,
I opened the breviary
and read
moving my finger
following the chant
in my ears,
the sky dark
sprinkled stars
I mused on
Pascal's fears.
Jan 30, 2017
Jan 30, 2017 at 1:29 PM UTC