"dote" poems
admire me
the way I brush paint on canvas
before the purpose finds a footing
before the colors melt together
and the scenery is lifeless
admire how I read books
for hours on end
the expressions that read on a dull face
otherwise marred by furrowed eyebrows
admire the lilt in my voice
and the uncontrollable pitch
that gives away my every intention unwillingly
admire my great feats of prose
my plump, woman body
my awkward hands and pretty clothes
admire me when I don't even come close
to tickling your fancy
admire me because I exist
dote on me and give me your wishes
admire me as I grant what I can with kisses
admire my nymphet desires
admire my candy coated lips
admire me and want me
admire me
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 11:40 PM UTC
I love you
not because
you're good looking
I love you
not because
you're caring
I love you
not because
you dote on me
I love you
not because
your smiles are sweet
I love you
not in lust
of your crevice
or orifice
or skin
I love you
because
without you
I feel
incomplete within.
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 12:09 PM UTC
Wings a flitter
Iridescent feathers a glitter
Hovering briefly at a flower top
Usually not long enough to truly stop
This precious one of avian design
I see delicately perched upon a twisted vine
The sun glinting off the ruby throat
Making it easy for on this one to dote
Although this perch may be brief
It does bear out my belief
That the light of her essence
Has me blessed in her presence
Medicine, absent of strife
Filled with the nectar of life
Life that bears the scars of complexity
Yet revels in the miracle of synchronicity
Placed on my path with divine intention
I would be remiss to discount this intervention
And yet fail to mention...
A renewal of mon couer and the magic of living
For this is the medicine that hummingbird is giving
And for me it is so easy to see
She is Nenookaasi
Oct 18, 2012
Oct 18, 2012 at 10:00 PM UTC
I
There is a house with ivied walls,
And mullioned windows worn and old,
And the long dwellers in those halls
Have souls that know but sordid calls,
And dote on gold.
II
In a blazing brick and plated show
Not far away a ‘villa’ gleams,
And here a family few may know,
With book and pencil, viol and bow,
Lead inner lives of dreams.
III
The philosophic passers say,
‘See that old mansion mossed and fair,
Poetic souls therein are they:
And O that gaudy box! Away,
You ****** people there.’
6.8k
Rolling with the hunches
Safety in a tiger's eye
Has become a lucid scent, a possible unction
To the staring hour, we remember for denial...?
Saviors to break for it...
Sated pleas of untoward necessity...
Themselves, in the grasp of order and wit...
Speed of patience, to a wealth we knew should, politely...
The thunder we dote, was a marvel...?
Sent to merit for the ultimatum baring
Brief as loves boredom can be, the smile is actual
Where sincerity is from ear to ear, the want of caring
Do you remember me?
Like calling a kiss a sweet lightning
Come from the cloud, we devote to ourselves, see
The question of unity become our only hope, realizing...
A real tooth of repose and hindrance, that knows, you
Ready to chew nothing but the thought, of callous interim
Where we are, the tone of a silent voice to see the rue
Of compliment, are we that we are, a solution to anarchy's whim?
Sweet deliverance
Set to wishes only a courage's mind could blow
Forces and prowess to assure an imagination with seemly chance
Timid as we are, is a truth the only, when in the house to know?
Jan 6, 2024
Jan 6, 2024 at 4:36 PM UTC
“daddy, why do you love me.”
i love
how you make me feel
bring out
the daddy in me
to provide
protect
give you everything
you’re so small
vulnerable
helpless
you are
his little
his baby girl
his kitten
daddy’s heart
softens
warms
when you hug
dote
seek his love
and attention
sit in his lap
wrap your arms
around his neck
you are daddy’s
little girl
*************************************
“husband, why do you love me.”
i love you as
a friend
a partner,
but most of all
as a soul mate
you’ve made me better
given me
a sense of purpose
grounded me
held my hand
opened my heart
allowed me
to express
share my
innermost feelings
shed tears
and not judged me
*************************************
“that, my wife & little is why i love you so”
Mar 14, 2021
Mar 14, 2021 at 11:51 AM UTC
I'm Outstanding in a field
While out standing in a field
....with these teachers
C̵͍̞̓̄r̸̛͖̣͙̋̀ë̵̝͔́ä̶͎͕͉̈́t̶̢̠̍ͅǔ̵̹̠̖̊͠r̴̜̙̗̊̀e̷̡̢̜̕s̵͖͚̒̿ and prophets
You'd think its an easy hike,
but its more seagoing
I see, means my ego pre-going:
Just Color coding as another motif to talk with
No Shovel loading this buffer coating some mock spit
Of Sirrus winds and summer loving...
Was it other living or utter loathing?
No component, Native I'm Buffaloing
Icarus took the fire and I took the flowin
We've got the water ̶̧̧̼̖͙͔̹̻͕͖̠̤̓͊̆͋̐̓͂̄̊̚̕͠r̵͍͔̮͒̿̎́̊̈́͝ ũ̸͖͇̟̯̅̌̈́̕͠ n̵̲̤̙̜̑̑̽͑ n̵̡̺̪͎̯̫͐́̉͜͜ ì̷̺͍̹́̓̈́ ṉ̸̣̪͓̗̤́̈̊̈́̀ g̵͓̲̺̙̘̤̞̦̺̥̓͋̈̇͌̈́̃́͂̍͝
Is it fear or love?
Got the mother-loving
is it dear or turtle-dove?
Talking in terms of
inhaling foxglove
Stuck in the mud asking:
What's the size of....
What are we in the Light of?
Still:
Growing like a d̶̰̊̿̈́̓̿̿̑̈́͆̈̅̕a̵̻̤̒̅͛̿̀̎͘i̷͎̜̰̯͆̏̚s̵̡̢̼̺̬̬̖͚̦͍̠͑̀̀̃̀͌́͛̈́̌͝ȳ̴̞͖͓̝̥̭̥̖̑͋̔̎̀͗͘ ̸̢̪͍̠͕̩̥̒̍̓͋̈̐͊̂̎̓͝ ̵̡͇̳̦̦̥̰̝̐͐͌̐̓͐̈̏̀͘̕ ̶̡̨̟̼̺̺̝͇̍̀̓̓̏͌́͗̓̂͆͠
Growing like my Day Be
more than Dimebag lately
Growling like I'm Day Z̶̯̲̹̠̙̊̏́͗̿̎̅͗͐̿̃
Standing tall // Just Massing Nation
Is it all in my Imagination?
Fountain passion Claim free
Mountain Fashioned hazily
Passion Painting with Green Sea
Ripples passing freely through the sword
I be puffin on a horn like G̶̹͎̓̄̃͛͂͐͐a̵̻͕͔̯̹̿̕͝b̶̧̛͔̙͙̰̭̯̥̩̉̅̅̿̂̃r̴̝̞͎͂͗̈ĭ̴̘̈́̄̽̃͂̑́̈́͘͠ȩ̷̞̹̮̃̑̌͛̂́̀͝ḷ̶̢̡̭̫͉̬͇̀͜ ̸͚̳̘̜̫̱͖͂̇̓̈́̂̽͂̀̒
(Pfu du duu do duuuu)
Tougher than....
~imagining_
All the rougher
when we matching wings
Most people here
~just gather things_
Always stuffing torn like here we go:
(̷̛̰̼͕̰͊̂͆̿̅̀͝F̴̧̛͎͎̹͕̬͔͉̃͆̄̎͛̈͋͆̓̇͝ͅū̸̪͎̦̻͕̼͉̼͇̤̄̀̏̓̅͗͌ ̸̧͚̝̟͎̺̝̱͉̓͝ḑ̷̧̰̞̪̥͊̈̑̑̔͋͐͜͝͝ų̵̢̮̙͙̭̫̤̤̖̽̄̈́̀͒̅̀̕͜͝͠ ̷̨̨̥̩̘̱̘̓̉̈̈͌̃͊́̾̚͘d̷̺͛͂̏͑̂͛̊͛͘͝u̷̧͉̹̟͎͉̎̓̎̌ú̵̢̪̺̱̥͆̅́̄̈́̈̚͝ ̷̨̝̥̫̣̻͚̍̍͊͛͌̃͌̀̆̃̚͜͠ḑ̵̡̛͚͚̩͓̼̲͇̮͑̃̅͗̿̓͐͝ͅõ̵̢̰͎̹̥̫̺͍̎́͌̓ ̵͚̺̼͇͔̻̫͇̤̆̔͛͐͆̀̚͝ḑ̴̻̪̉̍͌̽̿̚̚̚ͅư̶̛̘͔̹̰̈́͒͑̍͐̎̈̈́̒͜û̶̬̮̙͍̺̬̯̻͚̺͌̂̌ͅu̴̞̫͓̭̮̽̽͌̊̄̃̔̎̃͘͠͠ŭ̷͎̎̉̆̈́̚͠)̷͖͔͔̤̗̋͛͜
Come and tumble
Hear how can it sing...
All the colors, Smatterings
Can't muck with my energy
Mastered the art of astral projection
Grinding rice with mortar and pestle
Just to Vortex the best view
Motor no next to you
Torn from the best of true
R̶̯̞͕̭͠͝e̴̳̗̍͒ͅä̷͎̬́̀̋̂̕l̴̼͇̗̈́̿̈ỉ̶̙͔̤̓t̵̩͚͎̥͕͓̍̏̌̉ẏ̸̫͌ worn for the rest of you.
Rolling free with no potent fees
Taking liberties with the energies
Got the water ̶̧̧̼̖͙͔̹̻͕͖̠̤̓͊̆͋̐̓͂̄̊̚̕͠r̵͍͔̮͒̿̎́̊̈́͝R ũ̸͖͇̟̯̅̌̈́̕͠ Un̵̲̤̙̜̑̑̽͑ Nn̵̡̺̪͎̯̫͐́̉͜͜ Nì̷̺͍̹́̓̈́ Nṉ̸̣̪͓̗̤́̈̊̈́̀Gg̵͓̲̺̙̘̤̞̦̺̥̓͋̈̇͌̈́̃́͂̍͝
Is it fear or love?
Got the mother-loving
is it dear or dote?
More like do or don't.
Floating on the shore like: Heeere we go.
Blowing on a horn with Gabriel :
(̴̨̳̙͕̲̤̮͕̖̅͐̄̍͒́̎̋̌̈́̾͑̆͑̊̿̃̓͛̓̒͘͜͝F̴̧̢̨̹͎̖̼̝͚̤̥̖̰̭͕̳̖̩̘̜̝̩̟̠̩̝̘̰͎̜̮͖̓̏̾̔̉͗̈́̕͝ͅͅ ȗ̶̡̳͕̘̲̜̳͖͉͇̮̟̪̬̜̜̩̥̻̝̭͓̥̍̍͂̈͆̉͗̎̈́͗̓́̑͊̋́͗̿͐̍̏̋̓̓͊̿̚͠ ̷̢̧̹͙̫̜̝̲͖̹̪͓̲̫̟̹͎̖̦̝̳̙͎͍͍̱̳̼̗͎̻͖̰̘̻͈̲͌̏̐̽̀̉̇̒͗́͑́͑͐̈͌̿͐̍̒̒̌̀̈͑̃̅͋̌͛͂̔́̀̍́̎̅̚̚͘͝ͅͅḑ̶̧̢͇͎͖̝̠͈͍̫̰̝̯͔͉̝͓͚̭͖̻͓̗̬̺̞̖͈̜͍̹̜̺̩͈̃̎̀̂͂́̀͂̄̐̍̆̈́́̈́̈̏̈́̉̿͒͋̈́̓̾̍̆̍̈͊͂̐̒̀̚͜͝͝͝͝ û̷͚̻̟̰͈̒̊͒̀̿̾͋̒͌̊̾̇̉́͆̅͒̈́̈̾̓̑͗̃̈́̓̄̀́́̽͗͘̚̕͘͝ ̵̡̢̢̡̢̘͍͉͕̠̮̤̗̻͈̯͙̲̳͎̪̹̗͓͈̟͕͇̃͒̋͒͒̉͊̎̂̽̋͋̈̀͊̅̔̒͐̋́͐̏͑͋͌͛̇͛̓̄̄̍͐ͅd̸͔͕̞̪̝̖̩͂̂̎̀͐͒̿͘ư̶̡̩͙͇̥͈͔̮̟͕̺͙̈̅̽̍̒͌͛͑͋̉̿̎̂̿́̈́̊͗̄̔̎̏̑̂̔̊̈́̕͝ͅ ư̸̧̡̼͈̲̰͓̹̗̩͓͙̹̯̹͊͐̒̾̆́̍̒̓͑̍̈́͆̉̀͘ ̷̢̧̺̩͕̟̙̳̜̩̗͔̻͕͈̥͈͖̩͇͈̠͉̩̈́̃̌̈́͌̇͂̓̐̇̍̏́̋̔͂̈́́̒̽́̓̓̚͜͜͝͠͝ d̷͔̮͓͖̉ ờ̷̧̨̡̛̛͓̗͉̪͖̼̜̬̜̦͎̻̙̖̣̠͈̳͊́̈́͊͋͊̉̈͒̔̐̄̌̎̀̈́̊̋̉̏̒̑͗͋̓̔̉̓̋͒̇͘͘͝͝͠͠ͅ ̷̳̦͙͙̤̺̜̥̖̬̮̰͈̣̗̙̮̬̈́̈́̾̂͆̓̈́ͅͅ d̵̛̳͈̗̋͊̓̒̅̿́͗́̒̂̈́̌͋̄̀́̌̄̈́͛͋̊̎̈́̓̉̕͠͝͝͠͝͠ư̵̘͚͔̫̮̭̖̱̞͔̦̩̹̱̺̺̝̬͖̜̼̬̮͎͚̪̼̯̫̳̜̙͓̥͎̳̥̻̾͆̄̋̅̂̃͒͛̿̐͒̿̊̌̓̈̅̃̒̈̈́̎̿̓̕͘͜͝͝͠͝͝ ư̴̡̧̢̧̦̭͍̮̜͓̫̪͇̖̤͙̻̮͉̭̯̙̞̥̗̱̩̞̞̼̟̱̟̦͚̼̲̼͚͈̈́͆̏͆̌̉̀͛͆͐͛̇̇̍̓̔̄͂͌̿̒̄́̌̕̚̕̕̕͝͝ ų̵̧̛͉̺̜͎̜̩͖̲̟͔̬̦̤̖͎̫͔͖̮͕̗̼͙̫̼̭̦͕̫͖͉̆͐̾̑͂͋͂̎̊͗̈́̂̕͘͜͝ͅͅ ư̶̛͙̠͆̓̃̀̍̄̔̄̇͗̀́̐́̌͂̋̑̏̄̑̕͠͠͝͝͝)̵̨̡̧̛̛̙͚̪̬̤͕̥̳̥̱̞̺͎̫̩͌́̈́̑̂̌̈͐͐͊̈́̇͐̍͒̓̓̀͐̃̆͐̓̍̀̐̃͑̕̕̕̕͝͝
Oct 27, 2021
Oct 27, 2021 at 1:12 PM UTC
Misunderstood please understand.
You hear, you think what you thought you would,
You remember what you thought before.
You close that door and think some more.
Remember the color of the emerald words I gave?
Do you remember the crisp noise of connections that they made?
Now do you?
Misunderstood.
You hear me through the speakers of your mind,
Little twists and bends and changes, you crinkle all my story pages.
You still remember what you felt before.
You close the door and feel some more.
Do you remember the scarlet words I gave you?
They gushed out of my torn heart like glistening blood?
NOW DO YOU?
Misunderstood.
All the noise running together in your head,
You try to open your moth to let some escape.
And when they pour out I sit down and take in the color.
Dear I fear that you could never really hear.
Emeralds ran into all the simple blue that’s you to blend into the scarlet.
Connections dissolved, you don’t, you
Misunderstood.
The words I gave are gone.
Your mind mixed hear and changed it there and turned it into brown.
I gave you all the beautiful colors of the rainbow,
But you would not take them for what they where.
You changed them, and held them together until it was all different
Until they where made all made the same.
Misunderstood.
This becomes the color of the truths you push away, and the words you mix around.
You find yourself spiting out this endless dingy brown .
I close the door, your spilling out onto the floor.
Keep what you have made I don’t want it, its yours.
Misunderstood.
Your not misunderstood, miss I’m to tired to stand.
Don’t blame the hand made reluctant to help ,
Your to covered with dirt for my brushing to help.
I know you , I love you , but I cannot make my miss understand.
I know my miss understood so I know that she can.
But she wont. I wonder why.
I have no patience to dote on you precious little feelings,
I’m so tired of the brown. Stop mixing colors, oh miss.
Until you make some changes I will have to leave you
Sitting and spiting on the dingy brown ground.
I love you miss I hope you understand.
Mis I know that you did so Mis I know that you can.
Feb 8, 2012
Feb 8, 2012 at 2:43 PM UTC
from time to time
there is a romance of being alone
the imaginations she powdered
generously upon the colorless reality.
metaphors that she sews upon the sleeves
of melancholy.
her girlfriends and she roamed
the ups and downs of the earth,
while their mothers screamed
for them to be ladylike.
saturday afternoons,
they procrastinated upon pastries and honey
crystallized fairy tales
courteous animals
riding on the coattail of dreams
a lighthearted feeling others tried to snooze.
they observe things through glitters of their vapor.
they dote on the humor of ice creams
and sunlight of scarlet pink.
as we laugh with charm,
what a way with words,
a lopsided smile,
a head of curls,
a flock of girls.
Aug 15, 2017
Aug 15, 2017 at 1:47 PM UTC
She is his
You can see it just from a glance
It can't be chance
that he sits so rigid
Their PDA almost frigid
in it's clockwork execution
we kiss now, here, then, when we should
Their public nature behind a hood
of do's and don'ts,
should, could so would,
but never must
never need.
I don't feel she's ever breathed
just for you, she
feels too insular.
Too
Egocentric
His posture is pride,
A look; a challenge
A touch: assurance
This one is mine
Look, don't touch
Envy me
But find your own
In his arms his serpent glows
and coils around his throat
dote
Their words are whispers of
solidarity
A secret society
who's key they ate,
their touches tempt fate.
You're going to hurt him
But for now she coils, and
boils his blood
and throws his rudder out of
control.
And he sits, a deadbolted frame,
clinging to a paper Mona Lisa
which could flap away
or, at any moment,
bore and
stray
But for now,
they're proud and
loud with public love.
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 11:07 AM UTC
To my dear wife,
I promise to love you,
to care for you,
to protect you from all harm,
to dote on you,
to cherish you,
to always be here for you.
To cuddle you,
To keep you warm.
To keep you safe throughout the nights.
To come home each day and give you the same amount of love as the day we first got together.
To hold your hand and walk with you.
To always remind you the reasons you are perfect to me.
To never take for granted the depth of love you have for me.
Until we both grow old and laugh with our wrinkly faces as we look back at the life we have had.
I love you so much for you are my wife.
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 8:18 PM UTC
A beautiful place, filled with flora and greenery,
Where nature’s daintiness at its best you can see…
I sit by the roses, at my favorite spot,
Pretty much confused, lost deep in thought…
All around me are flowers and trees of every shape and size,
A kaleidoscopic foliage appeasing the eyes…
The rustic elegance forms a romantic view,
If only I could share the romance with someone I knew...
There’s a reason this place is called Cupid’s arrow,
Its to contemplate, and come to know,
If love has struck you,
And if that love is pure and true…
After which its for spending quality time with that special someone,
To pass love around and have some fun,
To fulfill your romance’s every desire,
And stoke your heart’s burning fire…
So I sit there, wondering, pondering,
About him, and if it was love he did bring,
He entered my life just a short while ago,
Until then who he was I didn’t in the least know…
That he likes me he has made it passively imperative,
And in certain subtle ways I find him attractive,
But do I truly love him? That I do not know,
And it is this answer I want Cupid’s arrow to show…
Whether by destiny, or by chance,
It was here that we had our first fling of romance,
All it was, was that we passed each other,
Each staring wistfully at the other…
But for these few fleeting moments time slowed considerably,
And I remember each moment, vividly…
How entrancing his brown eyes were,
Ad how the rest of the world became a blur…
And just as we were crossing each other, the blissful trees
Whispered romance through the pleasant breeze…
And rained a shower of flower petals on the two of us,
It seemed over our infatuation nature did dote and fuss…
Which is why I took this as a sign,
That maybe, maybe this guy could be mine..
My once chance at true romance,
I really want to take that chance…
But what if he were to break my heart,
What if cupid’s arrow tore me apart,
I’m smitten, but I’m not sure I love him,
Because hearts succumb easily to materialistic desire’s whim…
And what would happen to him, if it didn’t work out…
He too, would be heartbroken, no doubt…
I care too much to affect him in any way,
If anything happened I wouldn’t live to see another day…
So I sit wondering, whether I ever dare,
To even try and lay my heart bare,
Open up and confess everything,
Or just let it remain a fling…
All around me, nature portrays romance,
But love, it’s a double edged lance,
The trees are rustling again, I see him walking towards me,
I have to decide if Cupid’s arrow has struck righteously…
Nov 18, 2010
Nov 18, 2010 at 4:03 AM UTC
Tell me no more how fair she is,
I have no minde to hear
The story of that distant bliss
I never shall come near:
By sad experience I have found
That her perfection is my wound.
And tell me not how fond I am
To tempt a daring Fate,
From whence no triumph ever came,
But to repent too late:
There is some hope ere long I may
In silence dote my self away.
I ask no pity (Love) from thee,
Nor will thy justice blame,
So that thou wilt not envy mee
The glory of my flame:
Which crowns my heart when ere it dyes,
I that it falls her sacrifice.
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 11:01 AM UTC
How am I ravish’d! when I do but see
The painter’s art in thy sciography?
If so, how much more shall I dote thereon
When once he gives it incarnation?
1.7k
They envy her as she is a girl with everything
Charisma, confidence and an hour glass figure
Yet really she has nothing.
They think her life is one lived by stars
Hakuna matata, her daily motto
Yet really she's an eagle trapped in a parrots cage.
They know how her parents dote on her
How they give her anything she desires
Yet really what happens behind closed doors is unknown.
They presume she is a colorful soul
One that radiates happiness and bliss
Yet really she is nothing of the sort......
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 9:46 AM UTC
In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes,
For they in thee a thousand errors note;
But ’tis my heart that loves what they despise,
Who in despite of view is pleased to dote.
Nor are mine cars with thy tongue’s tune delighted,
Nor tender feeling to base touches prone,
Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invited
To any sensual feast with thee alone;
But my five wits, nor my five senses can
Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee,
Who leaves unswayed the likeness of a man,
Thy proud heart’s slave and vassal wretch to be.
Only my plague thus far I count my gain,
That she that makes me sin awards me pain.
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Had I a man's fair form, then might my sighs
Be echoed swiftly through that ivory shell,
Thine ear, and find thy gentle heart; so well
Would passion arm me for the enterprise:
But ah! I am no knight whose foeman dies;
No cuirass glistens on my bosom's swell;
I am no happy shepherd of the dell
Whose lips have trembled with a maiden's eyes.
Yet must I dote upon thee,—call thee sweet,
Sweeter by far than Hybla's honied roses
When steeped in dew rich to intoxication.
Ah! I will taste that dew, for me 'tis meet,
And when the moon her pallid face discloses,
I'll gather some by spells, and incantation.
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The mirth crease on my face,
Are the traces of scoff,
Laced in my heart,
The oath I swore,
I hold with pride,
And the throne;I shall surely ascend,
For in their minds are nefarious surmise,
Bequeathed by their fathers,
As an epitome of my exactitude,
And in the reverence of their supposed lore,
"He is powerless"their honored lingo,
"He is powerless"their honored lingo,
The webs I cast,
And crown the ravens on the orbs,
Somersaulting the flamboyance and alluring sciences,
In the follies of their fantasies and lust,
Their souls are clipped with taint claws,
And shooed into my den,
"He is powerless"their honored lingo,
In their temples and synagogues,
Are my dote ravens,
Quoting the collars of their scriptures,
And stalking their honored lingo,
In their desperations for excellence and deliverance,
Their minds and sight,
Are bewitched with elixirs,
To their satiety,
And drove in slavery,
'He is powerless"their honored lingo,
In their moments of quandery,
I hover on the corridors of their thoughts,
And whisper the "B" plans,
Brewing the animosities and cruelties among theirselves,
Carving justification for the aftermath,
But still;"He is powerless"their honored lingo,
Apostrophe'
©Historian E.Lexano
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 1:43 AM UTC
i feel you
bound to you like no other
i carry you around
attempt to shed you
as you are problematic
yet i remain emphatic
i feel you
feel your dormant heart
sense your fear
rage and desire
i’m not here
to be cute
make warm and fuzzies
dote on a man
or make cherry pies
i can’t be kept
or wed or bought with a prize
i’m here to wake you up inside
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 10:19 PM UTC
You frown, I frown.
What obligates you?
And to I-why?
Do not we dote;
the elongation
of our tumultuous spirit?
Like a waterfall in pursuit of a sea,
Like weary eyes in need of lubrication,
Like a meowing kitten craving for milk.
Suffice is not.
Ere we beseech serenity
-an equilibrium.
O speak,
From your deepest well
-gay or remorse.
For a mirror, I am not.
Feb 3, 2012
Feb 3, 2012 at 10:08 AM UTC
Will it ever stop to hurt?
Will I ever forget you dressing up in that cream shirt?
There are moments when am happy, and then I cry inconsolably,
I've gone crazy, totally.
I will always pray for your happiness and success,
and my feelings I shall try to suppress and no longer express.
Your smile fills my heart with emotions, as if it were causing a flood,
My heart keeps aching for you, as if a part of you has been dissolved in my blood.
Day by Day, my spirit moves away from this body of clay.
I'm afraid as a character, I don't have long to stay in my own play.
This love is unrequited, I'm delighted I have memories to fill up my heart's treasury.
Still for some reason there's this curiosity, will ever he?
Jan 9, 2023
Jan 9, 2023 at 4:55 PM UTC
262
The lonesome for they know not What—
The Eastern Exiles—be—
Who strayed beyond the Amber line
Some madder Holiday—
And ever since—the purple Moat
They strive to climb—in vain—
As Birds—that tumble from the clouds
Do fumble at the strain—
The Blessed Ether—taught them—
Some Transatlantic Morn—
When Heaven—was too common—to miss—
Too sure—to dote upon!
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Agápi mou, how I dote thee mine
baby of potentate vision's; thou
art the foregone one of stringed
song's, that young lover's seeketh
To hath. Atop the thysiastery of
Ourn affection, I shalt layeth
Ourn all mine amour, near
The pearly gates, I'll meet
Thee at the door. The entry-
Way wherein only select few
Shalt pass, the liquid water there hath
Life, none hopelessness nor any bad; just garden's of
Succulent features, history's apostles there to be ourn new
Teachers, wherein the pictures art surreal, what's thine is mine, and what's mine is thine; feeling paradise complete us in lively field's.
©Brandon Nagley
©lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl jane sardua Nagley dedicated ( àgapi mou) dedicated
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 10:25 PM UTC
To-night the winds begin to rise
And roar from yonder dropping day:
The last red leaf is whirl'd away,
The rooks are blown about the skies;
The forest crack'd, the waters curl'd,
The cattle huddled on the lea;
And wildly dash'd on tower and tree
The sunbeam strikes along the world:
And but for fancies, which aver
That all thy motions gently pass
Athwart a plane of molten glass,
I scarce could brook the strain and stir
That makes the barren branches loud;
And but for fear it is not so,
The wild unrest that lives in woe
Would dote and pore on yonder cloud
That rises upward always higher,
And onward drags a labouring breast,
And topples round the dreary west,
A looming bastion fringed with fire.
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