"docilely" poems
Heaven's gates open in beat with my eye lids
As we stumble in sweet confusion
We can taste the air as an ostrich wine
And the only sounds are angelic choirs joined in mirth
The walls are painted scenes blessed in eternal movement
With God himself scribing the tales
Telling stories of triumph merged in harmony
And penmanship worthier than any poet
Men docilely behold grace itself on the walls of heaven
Ever worthy of the eyes of mankind
Of those who stole a glance turn to gold
And immortals join in ritual
The sense of sight, light, is portrayed as holy crystals
Incandescent stalagmites create divine paths for righteous to follow
While those lost in damnation are lead to eternally fall
As the path lingers the walls inspire a revelation in ones heart
Blessing all who listen, with God's word
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 11:38 PM UTC
Into his lacy web of deceit
She was lured very cleverly
What started as a fusion of like minds
Soon took on strong emotional tones
He led, she followed rather docilely
Bowing to his every whim and fancy
They moved into a new neighbourhood
And life appeared peaceful and happy
Until some ghosts from his murky past
Were resurrected without warning
An abandoned wife and son turned up
At the doorstep with ample evidence
That he had been living a life of duplicity
Overnight her dreams were shattered
She wore a pained and very haunted look
How could she have been conned by him
In such a complete and perfect manner
He was a spider who knew the intricacies
Of spinning a web with attention to detail
It was so imaginatively done that even she
A woman of intellect had got ****** in
To his credit, had he not been recognised
Accidentally by an old rival visiting the area
His first wife would have never tracked him
They would still be living in his web of deceit
Feb 6, 2011
Feb 6, 2011 at 8:05 AM UTC
Upon those jewel-encrusted toe-tips
she docilely placed her royal-red lips
A boy not a king and yet she bowed down
to the ******* who tried to soil her crown
Aug 26, 2019
Aug 26, 2019 at 9:38 PM UTC
Didn't want to go back to the torchure chamber
Monday morning, I am back
"Keynote Speaker" harranges us to be better
at what we do
We are never enough
No one knows what exactly we're doing wrong
but it must be something or we wouldn't be subjected to this
Everyone sits docilely, hands folded
or immersed in a sudden fascination with a muffin
and not enough coffee
Breakout sessions and I feel a zit form on my upper lip
We are taught like we are imbeciles
And then we learn something we didn't know
that contradicts what we've been doing
and I want to contact you, my boss
the man I'm trying to forget to tell you
there is something wrong here
so I do
I succeed in getting the flu and eating every available sweet
On the third day you write back to tell me my concern is nothing
but we will talk soon and I don't want to talk to you
who I am trying to forget
and my nose begins to bleed
in protest of this confinement and frustration.
The fourth day it is over, and I am home with a flu
and a cat I love more than anything who has cancer
and the "expert" writes back and tells me thank you so much for
noticing her mistake but its all the fault of us who don't
understand what we are doing
but she will make it all right
so it is over and you are silent
You who I was trying to forget who I now can't
get off my mind
I reread your e-mail,
look you up on-line and notice
a new picture of you with your wife
clinging to you like a fungus
I check my own old married pictures
and no, I didn't cling to my man's arm that way
hiding behind him like he is my father-protector
trying to become one being like some experimental
modern dance
And I wish you'd worn your ring when
we met a year ago so your sweet flirtations
would have disgusted me, not confused me
and I don't even like you anymore like I
don't even like my mother but
this is so compelling to yearn for
someone who doesn't care at all.
It is a pain that kills me and an ache I crave
and I don't want anymore
Jun 23, 2012
Jun 23, 2012 at 8:03 PM UTC
Picture the clown
with his silly frown
upside down
Picture the big cat
that docilely sat
as you gave it a pat
Picture the main ring
where the bearded lady will sing
the unicorns, risen at dawn
will trail a rainbow on a string
Picture the strongman
holding a child's hand
when everybody just ran
Picture the journey
that involved you and me
Picture the empty seat
Now picture the chaos
the emptiness of loss
all the glamour and gloss
Picture the heartbreak and joy
see the little boy, with the toy?
It's the one thing he don't allow
others to destroy
Picture waking at dawn
understanding in a yawn
nothing will be different this morn
Picture this, the colours are wild
life is more difficult to adhere
Picture the difficulty of this postcard
Wish you were here
Mar 22, 2015
Mar 22, 2015 at 4:50 AM UTC
A creeper on the glass mirror would love to try and find
A haven for his stench to sink and be welcomed
Wind’s rhythm and gold’s beats are changing
Your red and black arch is tears of happiness for
The taken joker with the mocking-night smile
It’s a warning for the earth worms below to curl in mush
And stretch out to envelop the broken down rock grit
All while they sleep.
Sigh and grace the side of my cheek with the back
Of your hand. Will you slap my one day? No, never—
What could a little stink bug do to harm me?
One cannot separate their treasures easily—
Or perhaps rubies did not fit with the cool black night stone,
But then I remembered that the black widow eats her mate
And I stumbled on foot for a long time before I knew you.
Enough said.
It was warm that day—very fresh and brightly lit
My wrists swung docilely, facing outward—and your fingers
Laced with my hand—silent clamps and scalpels and ropes
To turn—at just the right moment. Pushing aside my answer.
And forcing me downward as if a swarm, making me a millstone
Sinker to the restless night from which I have not woken entirely.
Half developed larvae.
It’s funny walking by a window—in the fall, or perhaps the summer
My, my there are a lot of you in haggard clumps
Creating speckled shadows that dot my inner room.
Silly, the way you’ve bit my ear, and now all I hear is tainted.
I’ll steadily walk in grey and violet. No longer a ruby.
Child, you’ve got a long way to fly—a long time to mate.
Avoid those boxelders.
.
Sep 5, 2011
Sep 5, 2011 at 11:51 AM UTC
Wolf is a symbol of guardianship, ritual, loyalty and spirit. Having the ability to make quick emotional attachments, it trusts their own instincts. We too should do the same, trust our hearts & minds, and have control over our lives.
When St. Francis encountered the wolf of Gubbio in 1220, he did not fear its coated fury armor and when the creature devoured animals and humans and became a force to be reckoned with, St. Francis made the sign of the cross and went out to meet the wolf , one on one. The crowd followed him from behind but as St. Francis entered the wolf's lair they held back, keeping a safe distance, they could watch and not be harmed. The wolf at first rushed at Francis with open jaws. Again Francis made the sign of the cross and commanded the wolf to cease his attacks in the name of God. The wolf trotted docilely and lay at his feet. Placing his head on Francis's hands he listened to Francis:
"Brother wolf, you have killed men at the image of God, so now you are worthy of death but if you make peace with us, we will forgive your past offences and you shall live. The wolf bowed its head and submitted to Francis, completely at his mercy. The wolf placed one of his forepaws in Francis' outstretched hand and the oath was made once ferocious wolf now behaved like a household pet. Like the wolf, we too have our net worth, as compassioned beings, capable of change. So tell me, after reading this, where do you stand on the empathy scale ? Are you going to help the wolf change, or are you going to watch him fail.
The End.
(when we all stand around and watch, we all lose)
Aug 8, 2021
Aug 8, 2021 at 6:36 AM UTC
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The lingering soft touch
Memories !
Before death come here
•
Docilely meekly
We have surrendered
•
Suffering !
We write our poetry in its praise !
••
Soft
I am still here
( I and death are here )
•
We
We are still here
We
Softly
Touch
••
There is something
We must remember
•
Let us remember
What we must remember
And stay here
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 4:26 PM UTC