"doer" poems
How, may I ask, did you get so you,
you beautiful true-to-you doer?
I've met many today but I can honestly say
that I've never met anyone you-er.
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 2:24 PM UTC
On Monday I started to write a song,
The afternoon spent lazing around,
Memories of the Sunday night,
Like a hangover hanging around,
I close my eyes for a moment,
As I always feel the day slipping away,
Before I know it Tuesday is on,
I start to put down words,
But the end won’t come to my mind,
And I know the day is slipping away
For Wednesday has come now,
I feel the wakening of the doer inside of me,
I sit down with my pen and paper,
With the t.v. switched on besides me,
Oh I know the day has slipped away,
Now at the centre of the week I’m on Thursday,
I start for one last time,
But I know I won’t finish for the next 2 days,
And I wrote dad a dum da beep pada,
And I’m not surprised for the day has slipped away,
And I begin my weekend on the Friday,
Hanging around my incomplete song,
Just 5 words on the paper,
My head is spinning around,
And floating through time I’m onto the next one,
Its Saturday night I’m partying hard,
Not hard enough for my song undone is weighing me down,
I’m not sure what I’m gonna do about it,
So I try not to think just loose myself in the sound
As I dance to Sunday morning I,
I sleep from sun up to sun down,
Sunday night I’m roaming around,
I know tomorrow’s a new day,
I’m gonna finish that song,
Monday morning, I’m writing a song,
The afternoon spent lazing around,
Memories of the Sunday night,
Like a hangover hanging around,
I close my eyes for a moment,
My life’s slipped past when my eyes were shut,
Now I’ve forgotten what I was writing about,
Back to the start I don’t have another chance,
I curse life, for when I stopped it kept moving on.
Nov 6, 2012
Nov 6, 2012 at 8:04 PM UTC
Evil might creep in different forms Depending on what's going on around ... It might come in the shape Of a hand-gun or In other shapes ... If it is a hand-gun ,then It means satanic and ugly Simply because if it is in a coward's hand , It means there will an inevitable crime and Innocent victims too ... All ugly evil-doers end in jails , hanged ,or In the corners' trash cans ... ___________________________________________________________________
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 10:03 AM UTC
Never love a simple lad,
Guard against a wise,
Shun a timid youth and sad,
Hide from haunted eyes.
Never hold your heart in pain
For an evil-doer;
Never flip it down the lane
To a gifted wooer.
Never love a loving son,
Nor a sheep astray;
Gather up your skirts and run
From a tender way.
Never give away a tear,
Never toss a pine;
Should you heed my words, my dear,
You're no blood of mine!
6.5k
A doer not a talker,
A finder's keepers,
not a stalker,
first he is A Man,
gentle in his MANnerisms,
but not the knuckles or
his calloused hands.
He does not stand out
in his field, he is too busy
working to increase the yield,
not make best use of fifteen
minutes, OF Few men can
this be said, his hat still fits
his crew cut hairy head.
when he opens his mouth
to speak, his thoughts take
shape and become Words,
not charged with emotion,
not angered or raging,
not with some rite of self-
righteous indignation.
He speaks his peace,
and sits his *** on the
nearest thing he can find,
he has a sound body and
a sound mind, when she
decides and marries him she
will find, treasure. Rare.
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 11:41 PM UTC
Her whispy straw-like hair
Strange green eyes that never rest
A smile no artist could ever paint
A frown to suicide a saint
Her voice fresh water that she never drinks
Her measured distance covers what she thinks
Laughter so human it inspires God
And sends Him back to work
Whilst she is unemployed
She's a taker; She's a mover; she's a doer
And what she gives makes charity cry
Her pride is rarely spoken loud
She's not comfortable in a crowd
But she drinks in others
As they drink in her;
She is blind where they don't care.
Her whispy straw-like hair transcends despair
Like only a Russian knows how;
Balanced compassion with a violent passion
But what light in those still hoping eyes
Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 3:18 PM UTC
The legere sacristy of pure love blazing
Feline confluence across ethereal plains
Arched angelic collusion of things sepulchral
The arcane occidere travisty of
Transmogrification canonized
Darkling eminence ordained;
The verity aura of radiance
Twilights tidal blood- dye magenta,
Germane sleek meagre wealth chiming lo!.
Finitudes golden prayer draping flounded
Brutality tithing the zenith with mealy
Doer aptitude majestically turbulent
Sacrificing thoriums weld feudal
Of heavens deceitful soothsayers,
Fellow djinn of Gotterdammerung
Soli of vilest stoic jingoism.
ELEETE J MUIR.
Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 7:07 AM UTC
There is nothing more than a photographers dream
than a sunset over a blue clear river.
Its just on the beauty but the peace you must feel
Your heart melting to the golden glow of the sun.
But its not of the view
to some anyone could a have a a van to take the love of art
But must don't feel the fullness of the work
There is nothing to a sports players dream
to win every day
The fans yelling your name and calling you the because after every goal
Its the beat of the music to get you going
Notes after the other and tap of your foot to keep the play
No story to write itsself but the holders mind
The wonder on the world and people that say its home
The teaching of each lesson to the kids that have brains
The thinker to the doer.
You see there are more to what it seems
It all has its flaws
But they are all the same
It makes you happy.
By Me
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 1:14 PM UTC
The doer without desire,
Who does not boast of his deed,
Who is ardent, enduring,
Untouched by triumph,
In failure untroubled:
He is a man of sattwa (the energy of inspiration)
The doer with desire,
Hot for the prize of vain glory,
Brutal, greedy and foul
In triumph too quick to rejoyce,
In failure despairing:
He is a man of fajas (the energy of action)
The indifferent doer
Whose heart is not in his deed,
Stupid and stubborn,
A cheat, and malicious,
The idle lover of delay,
Easily dejected:
He is a man of tamas (the energy of inertia).
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 11:28 AM UTC
A doer of evil deeds
Selfish in the stead of Selfless
A wild wicked mind
A twisted and crooked heart
Did love escape through,
A clutched fist?
Did the angel of death deliver,
An old friend?
Did life steal your innocence,
Only to be replaced with pain?
Bearing witness to rotten fruits
Of your corrupt labor
To see the pestilence wrought
At the Arbiter's table
Two choices arise
Introspection weaves the way:
Tread further into the deep,
Embrace self destruction
Or
Allow redemption to chisel
Carving the flesh of the ******
May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 12:27 PM UTC
I am not crying for Mandela the Hero
but for Mandela the Man
I am not crying for Mandela the Politician
but for Mandela the Father
not for Mandela the slave
but Mandela the free man
not for Mandela the jail bird
but for Mandela the liberator of self
not for Mandela the answer to SA's prayers
but for Mandela the doer of the deeds
May God Comfort South Africa in this great loss
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 3:02 AM UTC
Today
received a mail
from asylum ,
send a check list
about
Who is allowed to
Visit the place!
These are
Doer for betterment of everyone,
Crusader of humanity
Harbinger of nature
Achiever of truth
Onlooker and caretaker
of concord.......
I couldn't able to positioned myself with any one
So, decide to stay on this planet only!
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 6:56 PM UTC
Addiction what a cruel thing.
To be entangled by the fiery flames of hell.
Oh, how short have we fallen?
I have seen many tumble into the same abyss myself included.
Deep dark pit of despair.
Always making you need to gasp for more air.
Every family has a Judas.
Or one family member may have an addiction, to later pass it on to their siblings.
All my life I have been a doer rather than a hearer.
The Lord is our Shepherd only if I let Him Shepherd me.
As He leads me to the boldness of His merciful love.
Once upon a time, I was at enmity with God.
Carnel mind & all.
Previously owned by the devil now I am a child of the Most High.
Do you know the Shepherd?
Jun 3, 2018
Jun 3, 2018 at 6:50 PM UTC
tense as the rolled up newspaper thrown
slapping against the step
at dawn
awakening conspiratorial
slinking around the truth
sleuthing sniffing
my way to find
out this way or that but the way
about the signs the clues
preachers words the same weight
as the street corner girls
a way to think
in our detectiving
then the ultimate
DNA almost
the penultimate
remains of the doer dids
the who what did
whats the ne'er do wells on
Mulberry street , I know them hoods
no they were not the culprits
I scent along above below
sniff and snoof
behoove behind the wildest dogs
to find it was
mine own trail I had found
among the shivering forest green
I sat considered
a shylock set this up
then saw the bacon on my foot
I had been following.
I set off again my foot clean.
I will find this bandit.
I like bacon , though.
May 6, 2017
May 6, 2017 at 1:44 AM UTC
Because you needed a ***** in the House.
A sweet *****
An awful *****
A lousy *****
A dreadful *****
A lonely one,
A hopeful one,
A very very brave and powerful:
Real Hateful one.
A scarry *****
A mighty *****
A tired one...
A ****** filthy 'son of a gun' one!
The poor ***** that got broken,
AWW!
The sad ***** and pitiful,
The pretty *****
Oh my Word! Oh, my Lord!
The charming and the jumping,
The petty...
The wonderful and working.
The stupid ***** you can't live with,
The one you can't live without.
"Better dead than that bad"
The natural *****
The great *****
"You little *****
The unnaturally something *****
"My, my! The ***** that was
Is still mine!"
The healthy *****
The stealthy *****
The common *****
The extraordinary *****
A proud piece of rotting ****
Your people, chosen or not disrespect.
The rotting *****
Romantic *****
The famished *****
And thirsty, eyes wide open,
Thinking ***** the doer *****
The coldest *****
You trending *****
You want them
All !
You want them
The wealthy *****
The famous one,
The popular, loved n' hated one
The lofty one,
Superior one.
The Princess ***** you'll have to work for her and her lawn.
The never tired *****
The always hard to take,
The better *****
The one to money-make
Come true
The never wrong but needed *****
Adored, much worshipped
Set free, caught in a web,
A bottle of champagne,
A cup o' tea,
A thought for thoughtful a *****
Who used to be too thoughtful,
Too loud,
Too something this and that,
To wrong.
Oh, faithful *****
Caught by all ******* love
For Gold and money and Fame you fall,
You have to.
Oh, sick of it,
Oh, knowing-it-all!
Creative ***** what have you done.
Inventive ***** illustruous *****
My teaching a good lesson *****
Thank you for helping me around.
Because you needed an idiotic *****
A parting one,
Departing one,
An angry gal, good, sorrowed one.
Luckily a ****** one,
A greedy, thirsty for clean waters one,
A helplessly dreaming *****
A needy one, needing a good witch,
The learning for better
In sickness and health,
Cleaning the wound, help mending a heart hurt
- gal!
A helpful one,
Much funny one,
A stronger one,
A stubborn one,
One to catch worms
Like every other one.
A witchy ****** annoying bitchey
Because without ******* what would be?
Oh what this world could be?
May 14, 2021
May 14, 2021 at 3:26 AM UTC
A beautiful world turns round again
A simple man must meet his end
A bright new baby is born anew
A cycle can do nothing except renew
But no sick cycle is meant for us few
No endless circuit to remove us from the slew
Of public discord raining down from the heavens
We only stay on track to see where it ends
A broken sidewalk is our path to somewhere
To carry us away to a brand new nowhere
But no preformed path can lead us away
Unless we walk forward to find our own feet at play
A brand new day comes to find its own end
What irony arises from the end of a beginning?
When does a fresh start turn stale and still?
Do our new opportunities hover until they fall?
Or do we have to pluck them out of the air
So thick we can’t see, what the future means us to be
Are we failures or successes?
Do the powers that be know that we
Are the next wave of an endless storm
That batters the public consciousness
Leaving it forlorn and ragged
By the dissent of the vocal minority
We will forever be we, and that is a fact
The sullen masses can’t remove our power
An urge to survive will rain down like a shower
On the poor souls without the life of their dreams
The possibilities remain locked inside heads of lead
While those without any move on ahead
A world for the doer but not for the thinker
Can doom the ideas of the intelligent and weaker
People without the urge to move and shout
Living a life of inadequacy is their only way out
A great ending for these is not in the cards
Instead the powerful push down the bards
The dreamers who knew not the hunger
To leap to the top and remove any wonder
As to whom they could be
Must lie at the bottom explaining the lives
Of those successful but simpler spirits
Who lacked the essence but held on to ambition
A world that is just never comes to fruition.
Mar 25, 2012
Mar 25, 2012 at 4:02 AM UTC
with each passing day, I understand less and less, for
who could ever claim to know it all, yet, the simplicity
of our base-ic basest instincts makes evil so easily attractive,
that now, I forgive almost nothing, anyone for the cruelty
inherent in on the surfacial skin of our normalcy, so easily,
revealed, and reveled in, wrecks me, and the poetry
sparks are not doused, but wick and ember shriveled
oh the irony, that foolish me should write of the
commandment to love just as the world displays
old levels of hate historically deep… .I am hated,
to many who would know me only as Jew,
and this refresher course in my brain, reminds me,
that love thy neighbor as thyself, can morph into a
generational opposite, that my former degree of comfort,
beliefs, was only skin deep…and Tolstoy was a naïf, a romantic,
a royal, who hoped for the best in each man, and that
cannot ne achieved for hate is so easy digestible, so sweet a treat
for humans, who desire no compass other than simple baseness
to know which direction to take….
————————————————————————————-
”There can be only one permanent revolution—a moral one; the regeneration of the inner man. How is this revolution to take place? Nobody knows how it will take place in humanity, but every man feels it clearly in himself. And yet in our world everybody thinks of changing humanity, and nobody thinks of changing himself."
Tolstoy
”To perform evil deeds a person must discover “a justification for his actions,” so that he can regard stealing, humiliating and killing as good. “Macbeth’s self-justifications were feeble,” and so conscience restrained him. He had no ideology, Solzhenitsyn observes, nothing like “anti-imperialism” or “decolonization” to allay pangs of guilt. Solzhenitsyn concludes: “Ideology—that is what gives evil-doing its long-sought justification and gives the evil-doer the necessary steadfastness and determination . . . so that he won’t hear reproaches and curses but receive praise and honors.”
Solzhenitsyn
Oct 20, 2023
Oct 20, 2023 at 3:08 PM UTC
I am alive with Christ (Ephesians 2:5). I am far from oppression and fear does not come near me (Romans 8:2).
I am born of God and the evil one does not touch me (1 John 5:18). I am holy a d without blame before Him in love(Ephesians 1:4, 1 Peter 1:16).
I am God's child, for I am born again of the incorruptible seed of the word of God, whichvlives and abides forever(1 Peter 1:23).
I am God's workmanship, created in Christ to do Good works (Ephesians 2:10).
I am a new creation in Christ (2 Corinthians 5:17).
I am a believer and the light of the Gospel shines in my mind(2 Corinthians 4:4). I am a doer of the Word and blessed in my actions(James 1:22, 25). I am a joint-heir with Christ(Romans 8:37).
I am more than a conqueror through Him who loves me(Romans 8:37).
I am an overcome by the blood of the Lamb and the word of my testimony(Revelation 12:11).
I am a peacemaker of His divine nature(2 Peter 1:3,4). I am an ambassador for Christ(2 Corinthians 5:20).
I am part of a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a purchased person(1 Peter 2:9).
I am the righteousness of God in Jesus Christ(2 Corinthians 5:12).
I am his elect, full of memory, kindness, humility, and long suffering(Romans 8:33; Colossions 3:12).
I am forgiven of all my sins and washed in the Blood (Ephesians 1:7). I am redeemed from the course of sin, sickness, and poverty(Detronomy 28:15-68; Galations 3:13).
I am called of God to be the voice of His praise (Pslam 66:8; Timothy 1:9).
I am healed by the stripes of Jesus(Isaiah 53:5; 1 Peter 2:24). I am raised up with Christ and seated in heavenly places (Ephesians 1:6; Colossions 2:12).
I am greatly loved by God (Romans 1:7; Ephesians 2:4; Colossions 3:12; 1 Thessalonians 1:4).
I am strengthened with all might according to His glorious power (Colossians 1:11).
May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 4:29 PM UTC
How was it there in Isengard,
Former haven of the proud,
Whose hollowed valley hid the rot
Beneath its treeless hills,
Ancient machinations tunneled far below
The smooth, impervious tower of Saruman,
The Iridescent Dazzler,
Whose quiet words slipped Sauron's thoughts
Inside our weaker minds?
Venom running hot...then changing cold
Within old Saruman on Gandalf's salutation:
"Saruman the White,"
Changing Truth for truths,
Something totally desired.
"I prefer Saruman the White!"
I think old Gandalf said
While he was still "The Gray,"
(Just before his lofty spire stay).
But evil magic has its ends,
Tendrils turn upon themselves,
Vines tangling slow or fast,
Returning to the evil doer's door
While Good climbs steadily to new beginnings
Rooted in the Old and True,
Reaching for the sun.
Old Ents in righteous anger
Broke dams, diverted streams to flood
The war machines of Isengard,
Drove Orcs and Wargs and Trolls to doom,
Drowned the furnaces...
Then, mourning tree-limbed kin,
Greeted Gandalf on his way to greater things,
And pledged themselves to holy war.
Saruman the Proud,
The sooty iridescent,
The abject coward,
Stripped of power,
Fled unrepentant
Into the mists of Middle Earth
While Sauron's eye glared
West and East,
Wraith-seeking
Frodo and
The Ring.
Aug 27, 2013
Aug 27, 2013 at 9:18 AM UTC
when you
so dear to me
do hurt me
a pinpoint *****
is a razor’s slashing edge
make gashing wounds
and bleeding drains me
bound scars to testify
to the hurt
the doer do magnify
i flee my brittle tiny shell
and don the mask of mirth
but fleeing never find
a chambered nautilus
which i would exchange for mine
a twig is bent
a leaf is fallen
a grain of sand is lost
a page is torn
teardrop falls
a lost one calls
when trust has grown
when choice is blind
when reason cannot reason
a little twist
a careless wink
an unintended turnabout
eats up a painful way
to the heart that loves.
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 7:51 PM UTC
Stories older than kings,
these exist as stories told with old ones,
imaginings of messengers,
seers saying this is the vision, made as plain
as pi, point, plumb, line, and wall,
man, made in the imagination
man imagines, and affirms,
this I die to know, I am made
to be a doer of this,
listen
Aug 2, 2021
Aug 2, 2021 at 6:15 PM UTC
God’s little bud of rose
Reflects like a dainty prose
In lines that so sweetly glows
From veins that so lovingly flows
God’s little doer of deeds
Into souls might her goodness feed
The scroll of life
Unfolds and then reads
She is what this hopeless world
Sadly needs….
In life she moved a hero’s pace
Without doubt on her pious face
She who felt that holy embrace
Now is done with her ultimate race
Quietly rest, tender rosebud
Nurture that love in your heart
For us mortals alive,
We must continue to battle
The wars in ourselves
Never to know
When our precious sanity ends…
Fragrant rosebud of white
Gone-but not forgotten
You lived as soft and mellow
As the morning rain
Sowing your seeds of knowledge
And gain
As God’s own champion
You died not in vain…
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 2:02 AM UTC
skuld
skuld
skuldenaar
dit suis vanaand
in tolbos tale
rond-en-wind-ge-foeter
oor ‘n dor doer pad
‘n uitgestrekte stoftong
lek geraamtes
tot aan die silwer koppies
in die Klein Karoo se maan
skuld
skuld
skuld–in–aar
is Ma ‘n vreemdeling
wat staan en tee drink
in ‘n ander vrou
se blou kombuis
skuld
skuld
skuld–in–haar
al starend na die krake
weerspieël die vensterglas
‘n aarde broos
verbrokkel
maar
die reën sal kom
my kind
die reën sal kom
profeteer die roes–rooi wolke
al loeiend in die wind
sal Ma staan
onmiskenbaar
soos ongetemde buffelsgras
gewortel en gegrond
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 6:22 AM UTC
That shining tower built tall and Proud
earth a mother and blue skies its lover
seeking perfection,that entity ethereal so,
by minds mystical and practical together
conflicting hard the dreamer and the doer
the willing and unwilling driven mutual as one.
Designed vision a force inexorable, realized slow,
a conviction human spreading action like wildfire
energized faculties stretched,knowledge all exhausted
euphoric waves creative ridden like a master boatman
a slow birth of creation delivered combined by men all
with bodies drained,minds triumphant,heads held high.
Attempted perfection teaches wise, taunting,teasing us,
so elusive with our minds limited and bodies ever tiring.
reach it you can never, just beyond grasp,evolving ever
founded in your mind but form it physical you can never.
I agree nodding yes, i caught you momentary,to the best
of my abilities now, I learned and shall keep chasing you!
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 3:20 PM UTC