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Prabhat Chhetri Feb 2017
city concrete crawling horizons

all preposterous blazing everywhere

THE GODS DOTH FEEL OF SUNSETS
like my wallet feels about emptiness

I am Mr neanderthal
flinting boring words
to light up one poem
to save myself from those nights that don't stop at the door

All I desire at this point is simple unchanging dullness
like drawing Tom with running shoes and Jerry with a Tom resistant suit


the streets are empty but the windows come alive
and the houses wake up
and there is light from the TV
and a child watching Disney Cartoons
and a parent ringing the doorbell
and dinner table conversations with the evening news on

and outside the dogs on the street chase every other vehicle that pass by

You don't even have a license.
Manda Clement Jul 2014
We did not come here on the orders of others
We came freely, our own choice, blown by the soft winds
scattered o'er many a mile
Landed upon Flanders Fields and rested a while

Then death came, disturbed the earth
Destruction hit the ground in which we slept so quietly
Awoke us from our slumber sweet
To witness tragedies and defeat

Now we are risen
and in our place beneath lie men and boys of courage, strong and true
Who fought valiantly but now lay slain
Our gentle roots entwine around their bodies that remain

Each dawn we wake for them and face the summer sun
At night our gaze doth meet moon
We stand tall and proud and dip our heads
And honour them that lie beneath with our petals red
Another WW1 inspired poem. Poppy seeds can lay dormant for many years before flowering. This is what happened on the battlefields of ww1. The earth was disturbed with all the shelling and death and destruction and released the seeds that had been laying dormant. How beautiful yet so sad.
Pagan Paul Jun 2017
.
Thy loveliness be fyne arte
powdered 'pon a velvet page.
Thy heart doth sing lullabies
penned in a lovers cage.

Thy loveliness be crystal jewels
studded 'pon a silver thread.
Thy breath doth fan the fyres
stitched in a lovers bed.

Thy loveliness be sweet dreams
strewn 'pon a meadow fair.
Thy nature doth perfume give
flowers in a lovers snare.

© Pagan Paul (14/06/17)
.
The blinding moon pellucid says,
                       shining loud yet never heard;

"I follow you where you may go."

In a child's wondrous nights,
                    cast away shadow's monster delights,

"I follow you where you may go."

Mene mind of Thoth complete,
                     for child's attention doth compete;

"I follow you where you may go."
"Mene," in ancient Greek means, "Moon." Thoth was identified as Hermes whom were both identified as, "thought," itself being some ancient memory of the origin of language creation as the constellations were used to form consonants and the phases of the moon represented vowels. Thoth was identified by the ancient Egyptians as the moon.

When I was a child I believed the moon followed me on purpose/for a purpose that coincided with my nightmares.
SøułSurvivør Jul 2015
be washed away

(with spoken word inserts
by soulsurvivor)

When I die don't cry for me
In my Father's arms I'll be
The wounds this world
left on my soul
Will all be healed and I'll be whole
Sun and moon will be replaced
By the light of Jesus Face
And I will not be ashamed
For my Savior knows my name.

- chorus -
It don't matter where you bury me
I'll be Home and I'll be FREE
It don't matter where I lay
All my tears be washed away

SS insert -
Persecution I'll expect.
It's not surprising. Folks reject.
Still I LOVE my Lord so dear
I'll forgive and have no fear
Faced with evil on all sides
In the Lord I will abide
No force of hell can remove Thee
It don't matter where you bury me

---

Gold and silver blind the eye
Temporary riches lie
Come and eat from heaven's store
Come and drink and thirst no more
So weep not for me my friend
When my time below does end
For my life belongs to Him
Who will raise the dead again

- chorus -

SS insert -
I will pass. That much is clear.
I'll leave my tabernacle here
Life is short, the time doth fly
So I'll go to kiss the sky
Then I'll know all mysteries
It don't matter where you bury me


A song written by Julie Miller
Performed by Emmy Lou Harris
and Selah (this version is below)
With inserts by SoulSurvivor
http://youtu.be/SW_3kHHvk8M

I feel SO blessed to know the Lord Jesus Christ. I have reposted this song as I believe it to be a VERY important message.

I don't doubt that the Lord waits for those who are faithful. He delivers them out of their troubles. You don't have to die for this to happen either. If you are redeemed by His blood you've had a transfusion and are HIS CHILD. If you think your earthly dad was protective he was NOTHIN' compared to GOD!

Sorry I have not been able to read much. Or respond to comments. I have elderly parents to care for. And every time I go to get on site I get the "bad gateway"!!! Are you all experiencing this as well???
---
Pagan Paul Jan 31
.
O where doth he wander my love,
the genius in cloth of the fool,
disappears with a wave of his motley glove,
and exits with the laugh of the cruel.

O where doth he roam my dear,
the costumed professor of musing,
a snap of his fingers, off he clears,
and leaves without permissive excusing.

Where doth he wander and where doth he roam?
He is upon a path so very far from home.
Look, see, his feet fall on shards of mica stone,
and the stars are all writing his story tome.

Where doth he roam and where doth he wander?
He is upon a path promising insanity yonder.
Look, see, take a moment to think and ponder,
is he an outcast or a willing absconder?

O where did he go my sweet,
the flaw that showed his cracks,
he left so quiet and incomplete,
the man who may never come back.




© Pagan Paul (27/01/19)
.
Jesse stillwater Sep 2018
feel the wind whistle
down the tenebrous sky
come to carry away
my silenced heart

hold dear the love
you see through
    my dried  tears —
before  the  glint
doth  fade

lay me down alone,
my dearest friend,
eyes  to  the  sky
   neath the lone oak tree —
atop the meadow hill

where a lonely child
climbed gnarled rungs
in hope to sail away
on fleeting cotton clouds;
dreaming of a place
in the distant sky
to  call  home


Jesse Stillwater ... September 21, 2018
Thanks for reading — Jesse
jane taylor May 2016
towering gently overflowing with heightened awareness
subtle hints of blade’s keen glittering chiseled edges
untamed rugged surface powerfully averts gale’s acrid tempest
vigor pulsating that doth persuade the cloud’s reflections
if i shall not again embrace a meager glimpse; a demure echo
of thine towering mounts my soul shall ever suffer

my spirit soars with e'er one glance of thine majestic presence
replete with reminiscence seasons stir and beg thine tender mercies
to house the changing leaves at dusk of autumn’s auburn portraits
and give birth to crystal snow cascading peripherally in winter
which melding into spring then begs thy bluffs to cover
in soft amethyst of columbine blossoming first light of summer

‘tis not paramount to scale high aloft thine peaks in escalation
for small sheer glances stamp forever with imperial impressions
and ‘tho i’ve traveled ‘round and savored nature’s varied essence
none can compare thine evergreens laced in aspens nuance
my breath is gone and shan’t return ‘til in thy shadow casting
i stand and look upon thine hallowed face the rocky mountains

©2016 janetaylor
I gave into a subtle beating,
Wrought once by Eros’ tasked -entreating,
The winds confound I lost my heart and…
…she of black-haired, eyes, dark beauty;
warm-rosined cheeks of nature gladdened.
For Pallas' claim, -said we both were saddened.
And me a farmer, she a princess,
I of yoked-labor, while her suitors, -the best.
Doth Father-King did mantic challenge, that challenge being sought in no jest.

Accosted me the low-ly suitor,
He gave of me a challenge -the worst. He sent me to the serpent’s folly.
With dagger and heart, whirlwind passion, sought I did the guiles’ jolly.
Up the cragged wind-swept mountain, past laurel berries, trees of holly,
Into white polished marble temple to the folly of a lair-born beast.
Gave my most but just a farmer, heart of swelling beat untempered.
As he set out, devour meal thus conquered, came she the dark-haired raven beauty, with shrieks and wails doth shocked the serpent, he surprised I plunged my dagger. Serpent dead she held her finger to my lips and then did whisper;

“We of Pallas judgment true did, find our love rise from ash-field –lister.
Tell of this you will to no one, you the boy who captures fair-heart,
To father you shall be a hero, deception we of female -impart,
Cleverness you must now fashion, must fashion your will to a high art,
Something of a nature now you must know,
Like the serpent-challenge dealt your passion a blow,
Apples will not save you once and,
Once as King and you my hus-band,
We the two of Pallas’ favor, love forever shall we savor,
I the half of you shall sing, you the half shall make me King,
We together, rule forever, we of two sides brawn and clever,
No serpent ever come between us, now that we a love -Athena’s!
Go now and this be our se-cret, marry me and never re-gret, all is yours and I your egret!”

Of this I did sit and ponder, on that hill of temple, off at yonder,
Me of fields, dirt-laden squire, she at court make of me a liar,
Is her beauty, hand a console -to the surety and loss of my soul?
Run I did to the city my way, storm gates to the court and did say;

“These, the teeth of folly’s serpent and she will be my wife on this day!”

Aged now and sit here, grumble...

Kingdom of deceit into which I crumble;
Woe to me how didst I tumble?

In rush to love perhaps did stumble?
In later years now here I humble;

...love was not worth all the trouble.
Old English-style rhyming verse. The classic mythology of the man entranced-by or enslaved by the serpent and rescued by cunning, trickery or deceit on the part of the female. This tale is as old as written history.
Pagan Paul Apr 23
.
Wouldst thou not gaze again 'pon this humble fool?
For 'tis his script that doth countenance histories,
hence future repeats be 'pon his wither and whim,
thou shouldst see twice his story woven sisterlies.

Wouldst thou not read more of this humble fool?
Mayhap his words doth soothe thy enquiry,
his want and wander leadeth to a contentment,
thou shouldst not ignore content of ye Fool's Diary.

Wouldst thou not focus true 'pon this humble fool?
Perchance his poems doth resonate sweetness unbound,
pray do a'linger and a'loiter 'pon his fancy delicacies,
thou shouldst taketh thy fill of love and wisdom found.




© Pagan Paul (22/04/19)
.
Follow up to poems Fool's Diary and Fools Diary (Addendum)
posted on Mar 6th and 8th 2019
.
Doubt thou the Earth doth spin,
Doubt the skies not to be Heaven's chin.

Doubt that Heaven's green and gold,
Her pulchritude is a fairytale told.

Doubt thou we'll meet the Lord,
At the other side of life's road.

Doubt that in Heaven's pleasant glade,
Life shall dare never to ever fade.

Doubt thou the sight before thy eyes,
Infinite not to be the coyly sinking skies.

Doubt that a pulchritudenous flower,
Akin to any other flower loses her allure.

Doubt thou Hell ain't a woeful grave
But never doubt thy love I dost crave.


©Kikodinho Alexandros
Jumeira, Dubai
28th January 2017
PoserPersona May 2018
'Twas a time I deemed thee love;
  the echoes lacked contraire
Sea moon shadows dance across
  this isle of despair

Entwined flesh eyes doth ne'er perceive,
  outside the mortal's scope
No sole charter giveth passage
  through salty waves unknown

'Tis what I think to see thee there
  on pedestals of gold
Forevermore you place thyself
  on stalwart shores alone

Unfurl thy sails for distant lands;
  the lighthouse shines once more
Praying to gods that long lost ship
  will find its way to port.
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