"droves" poems
While you were away,
My words seem to fall on deaf ears.
Unvoiced mutterings that fall out in droves,
Burning rants swallowed back in singes and sears...
While you were away,
Time was stagnant; a viscous puddle.
Hours only stretched longer,
The second hand jabbing its ferocious needle...
While you were away,
The clock drove me insane.
Ticking my life away in literal seconds.
Losing sand grain by grain...
While you were away,
And when it's all quiet and dark,
I could hear my heartbeat...
Awaiting the new day to make its mark.
While you were away,
My words seem to have lost their meaning...
As if they were stuck in limbo,
Unanswered calls that keep on ringing...
While you were away,
I am but a little lost foal...
Because whenever you're away,
I am never whole...
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 10:51 AM UTC
I thought y'all said no bullying !
So why would these words seem to excite,
they banned Farrakhan from social media then passed the mic to Trump,
how bout that first Amendment Right.
I thought y'all said no bullying !
But it's like we never heard it,
police **** blacks on purpose all of the time,
then come out with a not guilty verdict.
I thought y'all said no bullying !
But you lie at what you say,
people are losing their jobs in droves around this country,
because they don't believe in being gay.
I thought y'all said no bullying !
So when it comes to a rule they bend it,
all guns **** but Biden wants to ban the AR-15,
ain't that infringement on the second Amendment.
I thought y'all said no bullying !
These distractions are getting out of hand,
why does my son have to see a grown man dressed up like a woman in the public,
when I'm in the process of teaching my son
how to be a man!!!!!
I THOUGHT Y'ALL SAID NO BULLYING!!!!!!
Apr 4, 2021
Apr 4, 2021 at 5:42 AM UTC
Monet was painting up my vision
while the droves were driven out.
We stepped out to the derision
of a tenor waterspout.
The town outside is dancing
in the ruddy neon hues
and I’m ****** whilst Amsterdam-ing
by the slam-dunk cognac blues.
And a cap was shaking coppers
in an out cove by the way,
where instruments and owners
had begun to play.
The bar stools are all swaying
whilst the festival ensues,
and I’m ****** whilst Amsterdam-ing
by the slam-dunk cognac blues.
With the rhythm of the rimjhim
and the stamping our feet
we sing our drunken-whim hymn
whilst we stagger down the street.
And we had sunken five; still sinking
Im strung out, slammed, and stinking
Four sheets to the wind and freaking
about what I had to lose.
so that’s when I got to thinking
had an inkling to the linking
between my errant drinking
and the slam-dunk cognac blues…
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 6:37 PM UTC
Breeze bellows,
leaves echo in
quivering psithurism,
dithering like
unbroken smoke,
this approaching omen goads.
Dozing crows
slumbering in rows,
droves of locusts'
silenced drone,
almost comatose in repose;
nighttime overtones
choir of toads'
raspy croaks
answered by alto
of crickets' orchestral strokes.
Gust encroaches;
robed boughs
cloven open,
bring into
scope and focus
me juxtaposed,
suspended apropos.
Although motionless
and petrified in stone,
provoked by zephyr
coaxing to and fro;
swaying pendulous
and no longer frozen,
locus gently thrown.
Death rattle moan
evoked from throat,
reflex can't say no
to rigor rigidly posed,
final sigh in silence,
awoken vocal,
expelled and disposed.
Smote by
morose emotion,
gun loaded then exploded
by neurosis,
now bloated
necrosis decomposes
into gross ochre.
This trophy
and this ode
both an opus to
my inability to cope;
romanced i proposed,
eloped and betrothed to
my own
inappropriate composure.
Pocket full of posies
plucked when luck bestowed
and tears in a cup, a toast;
crying copiously,
tempest runneth overflowed,
eyes swollen and soaked.
Dipped my toes
in the coast
of this ocean's
amorphous folds,
gripped by undertow
holding control of my soul;
swiftly shipwrecked in
shallow shoal,
an old atoll.
On sandy floor,
water burrows roads;
digging, carving, roams
through unmarrowed
silica and sandstone
eroding into a cove.
A host for
opal geode trove,
enclosing a
technicolor rose,
from the depths
a glowing mosaic shone
Unopened lotus floats
on foam
of lapping waves,
a boat;
prone to no
grandiose notion
or motive,
adrift as wind stokes.
I suppose
this only shows
the total corrosion
into which I dove,
the only foes to oppose
are those of burdens, so
only weightless can I atone-
I must let go.
Mar 11, 2024
Mar 11, 2024 at 11:02 AM UTC
We have many ideals,
but we do not seem to have idealists anymore.
We have droves of problem solvers,
but we do not seem to have solutions anymore.
We have endless media discourse,
but we do not seem to have dialogue anymore.
We have unrestrained capitalism,
but we do not seem to have money anymore.
We have innumerable drugs,
but we do not seem to have treatment anymore.
We have scores of Baby Boomers,
but we do not seem to have elders anymore.
We have unlimited vacation days,
but we do not seem to have days off anymore.
We have incalculable amounts of information,
but we do not seem to have facts anymore.
We have regular, established elections,
but we do not seem to have elected officials anymore.
We have America,
but we do not seem to have a nation anymore.
May 3, 2017
May 3, 2017 at 3:20 AM UTC
Not against the peaks of protest, these aurulent banners and jasperated jaspe so so jargoon! It's like I was suddenly alive, beat-stretched out of winter neige and into the pancosmic blisses of bright and ebullient spring, plugged with an agromania to abide this new formidable friend in the aeviternal beauty of she and I togetherness. Never to spill a morsel of a minute away from us again, upon the newly conjured spirits unto us both. To be amidst a cynosure of such affiation, to be in the temperate or tropical gardens whispering about our mutual love for flowers nad lists. This that precedes us, bright colliding auras in this newfound numinous kindling of us two. Watching it, making it happen- it unfolding before me made me naseaus with excitement, dithering what our next move out to be. I just wanted to kiss her face, her cheeks, put our hands together so quickly, just to let our amorous fug fill the room with silver albuminious smoke from our breaths. Miles below this, round the Earth to other places, there are the fixtures of bright and corybantic life commoved by other nations and other poised people of the light, that I should not be idle in my desires to usher myself into this grand and briguing introduction. So she said, we will play the question game, the inquiry game, we will state the mark, draw upon deep and fantastical recall, bring from our minds the most immense truths and share them, no matter now feral, or caustic, or melancholy- they will be shared until we explode with each other, our intrigues wrapped in our perfervid and amatory excitedness for one another. Too vast with wonder to be afraid of- am I such a fiend for such resplendence. That we could be vitrified in eternity in a veil of fulgurite. So at this nightfall, this acronychal of bloviating bliss, to write and wonder, incessantly in the finest of provincial matters to settle this garden where Thetis lives to be of her, two philocalists in verdant pasture, heaped with matters of the pen and the palm, in the droves of this beautiful advesperating eve- where first I wrote to you, and then I wrote you back.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 5:15 AM UTC
They line up in droves at the voting booth
ignorantly choosing between two candidates on the same side of the same fence
They just use a different lexicon for offense and defense
we are ******* either way you choose
pull that level
push that button
tab that chad
The popular vote to be ignored by the electoral few and cash lined pockets of politicians
How much longer can we afford to play this game?
Oct 27, 2012
Oct 27, 2012 at 7:53 PM UTC
the world soul
an insane asylum
sediment the guts can't hold
makes me wretch
as the years bend this ridge poll
to the breaking point
a tuba plays booming
it is raven girl and singing skulls
swaying hips
all breath and heat
attended by carnivory
little Fuzzy Mijmark
necrophilia's friend
while men love sheep and bone
in shady coves
and droves of groves
hungry spiders' patient for obese flies
wait in shrouded silk
for the healing power of death
and their soul's new sunrise
in golden mourning's paradise
loving those they eat
marrow deep
Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 11:21 AM UTC
People of peace walk gently
People of strength never be stilled
Abundance awaits those with courage
RW Dennen-
Stay out of Iraq the spirits
pleaded...
Eyes wide opened, boots and shoes lined up in order
in almost perfect straight lines in Philadelphia July 2005
Symbolic death shoes of civilians out of synchronization
in a war of soldiers
Under a small tree meticulously placed
we're children's shoes in a perfect solid circle
I read o months of age on tags
I read 8 years old on tags
I read 12 years old on tags
And on and on the children's lists grew,
as wisdom must have waned
and common decency
was once cherished
These shoes and boots sadly became
the dimishment of human beings,
horizontal and vertical rectangular
snapshots of once smiling faces
all in the name of war, they vanished all too soon
And I saw running tears and tears being held back
and I felt lumpy throat feelings in unison
with the rest but in cemetery silence
Touching deep feelings so overwhelming
is to touch a false bent flower and flowers
and pictures of deceased soldiers and civilians
and letters once presented at doorways
throughout America
America cried its sadness and disbelief,
the vanished breathers of life giving air,
Our sons, our daughters,
Our mothers, our fathers,
Our sisters, our brothers,
Our relatives,
Our close friends,
All perished, like a vampire that ***** away the life blood of
the once innocent
I noticed mostly tourists coming in droves from Market Street
towards us volunteers who were located adjacent to the
visitor's center side entrance as silence like before still prevailed
And like before the atmosphere prevailed even stronger
as these boots and shoes became tombstones
And tender hearts became tombstones
broken into small pieces
Passions never changed into loud speech
And the green turf
rolled down towards the sidewalk
like a green carpet holding all those boots and shoes
like a quilt interwoven with boot and civilian
shoe memories about days that should never
happen again...
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 8:34 AM UTC
I want a million likes, thumbs ups, plus so and so
from those that I don't know
I want them to follow
I hope they come in droves
Fall in love with my mask
laugh at my cartoon character
let me sit and bask
kissing *** of a stranger
show me your pretty images
of your picture perfect lives
leave me in my guilty bliss
where my detachment thrives
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 3:44 PM UTC
I have observed brightly lit stores...
window displays welcome
with wide open arms.
Kaleidoscope of colours,
dancing to catchy music...
adding on to the allure and charm.
Droves of shoppers have identified this
as their slice of heaven.
Flagging retail therapy
and finding their
pocket of Eden.
I have observed some laying down.
Relaxing...
unwinding...
On patches of grass.
They stare at the sky
with much adoration,
as wispy clouds float on by.
These skygazers have chosen this
to be their little slice of heaven.
With the ground on their backs,
grass between their toes
and azure as their witness...
this is their pocket of Eden.
I have observed a couple of lovebirds,
seated at a café...
immersed deeply in conversation.
In their own private universe,
their own little bubble.
Employing hugs and frequent pecks as punctuation.
There's nowhere else they'd rather be.
From their eyes I know,
they've found their unique slice of heaven.
In each other
they've found their pocket of Eden.
I have observed myself...
I thought myself to be lost
for the longest time.
Seeking a place
for the voice in my head
that only spoke in rhyme.
All is not lost when
I finally found that place.
My little slice of heaven.
For almost a year ago today
I decided on Hello Poetry
as my pocket of Eden.
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 1:20 PM UTC
Hail to Thee, Immortal Three
Knowledge we sing on laud
Aristotle, Plato, and Socrates
Philosophy, to be human awed
Teach through time, consciously
Nod not, what others fraud
Socrates taught, Divine Being
God not of brutal Athens’ passions
Entity of Beauty, Truth Seeing
Goodness unseen in day’s fashions
Soul for unalloyed agreeing
Lessons humanities’ compassion
Talk eternal justice, everlasting life
Socrates’ Sovereign Right of Reason
Clearly mind deceived sense’s strife
Invincible perfection be God’s season
Thus, our key to knowledge ever rife
Priests who find this, absolute treason
No church or Socratic school
A barefoot man roamed to teach
Socrates mocked for looking a fool
His speech not one to simply preach
Plato witnesses a martyr’s drool
Cruel hemlock, words did so breach
Handsome aristocratic youth Plato
Followed Socrates’ Eternal Wisdom
But soon to find his own credo
In Medara to find Euclid and freedom
Egyptian geometry to provide dado
To Plato life, expression; not a system
Eternally an artist, Plato did develop
Philosophic circle in Academus groves
Bring Athens, world knowledge envelop
Discretions of sensations, be not oaths
What man may be, an animal jealous
Plato’s allegorical cave found in droves
As Plato once be Socrates’ disciple
So too, to Plato would Aristotle be
Passing comprehension archetypal
Successions of genius’ visions do see
Aristotle taking it step further, as vital
To science of hands-on discovery
And this is where we see a parting
Of two distinctly opposing philosophies
Plato being at odds, with science starting
Aristotle’s truth, finding no apologies
Things not happening by chance imparting
Frivolity of duopoly, dichotomy to Socrates
But a new era has surely now dawned
Science exploring an invisible atom
And the seen and unseen correspond
So to Aristotle’s, Plato’s, Socrates’ datum
Brilliant new philosophies have spawned
An abstract notion of conceived stratum
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 12:09 PM UTC
To my person,
You are a sunshine on a gloomy day that
brings me hope.
The moon on my sleepless nights that
droves away the loneliness.
The stardust on the ocean that
brings me serenity.
The desire in me wants to keep you close,
But pity me, our universe didn’t give the permission.
In another life,
I hope we can shares stories with our favorite tea in hand, exchange our favorite books, and maybe— just maybe, we could shares
a blanket.
Mar 16, 2024
Mar 16, 2024 at 8:24 PM UTC
Do you know the muffin man?,
Its not a nursery rhyme,
He haunts kids dreams with horrid scenes,
The scream from time to time.
His apron smelled of cinnamon,
His finger nails were clean,
He brought the nicest cookies home,
Mommys face would gleam.
He came to school two days a wek,
And gave out yummy pasties,
He chose kids very carefully,
Rejection made him nasty.
She found it out the hard way,
When she pulled away from him,
He told them she was telling lies,
He tore her from within.
Her mommy looked so horrified,"How could you?",
She would say,
"Poor daddy brings such good things home,
You will be sent away".
Society believed this man,
And Cherry went away,
Asylum life was home for her,
For 10 years and 4 days.
So many children broke their silence,
And accusations heightened,
They spoke of muffins molestations,
Mommy became frightened.
They came in droves to talk to Cherry,
From shrinks to talk show hosts,
They helped her open up,
And talk about those childhood ghosts.
Now, muffin man has ***** hands,
And spends his life in prison,
But left behind are countless kids,
Cause mommy wouldn't listen ...
Aug 26, 2010
Aug 26, 2010 at 7:33 AM UTC
a man sits
at the bottom
of the steps
not blocking the path
but he cannot be missed
begging alms
from the myriad
who climb and descend
in droves
the cup he holds
is barely weighted
by the meagre amount
he has received
he patiently wishes goodwill
to all who pass
despite their lack of offerings
even though
the majority will ignore
purposefully averting their eyes
or apologetically decline
to part with
any lose change
instead saving their coins
to pay their entry
to marvel at
the gilded interior
of the church
whose teachings include
"love thy neighbour"
Apr 7, 2023
Apr 7, 2023 at 2:42 PM UTC
In wilted droves they shuffle weary
Denizens of concrete plains
The brutal truth of Darwin’s theory
Striving grim for jealous gains
Hungry wallets snap at pockets
Morning thick with susurration
Eyeballs sunk in heavy sockets
Darting wild in consternation
Fleeting bursts of mock affection
Melt away as summer frost
Vague, the gaze of recollection
Quick to mind, the current cost
Clad in suits of gloomy weather
Human traces still remain
Shackles wrought in gold and leather
Wireless is the ball and chain
Winter stains the sunrise bitter
Drizzle darkened pavements wet
A fearless sun, the rain clouds litter
Lemon yellow suffragette
Incarcerated under skies
A bubble never fit to burst
As from the ape we reckless rise
And by the fallen angel cursed
To toil about the in-between
Loose of foot and fancy free
Creators of the never seen
Joyous bleak humanity
Feb 8, 2013
Feb 8, 2013 at 10:28 AM UTC
In triggered droves
a deafening hum
is birthed,
millions of
metallic wasps
venture,
on silvered wings
an invasion begins
to a minds corner,
roaming.
Oct 25, 2011
Oct 25, 2011 at 2:01 PM UTC
Baby you're killing me with your moves
Your easy gait and **** grooves
Oh gosh! but I want to sway with you
Be tossed and turned, my beau.
Your moving, **** image
Is in my mind through out the day
Yay! it didn't help the adrenaline rage
As in my mind with you I sway.
Oh my! but that body I so adore
Now I'm drooling so much more
Johnny Bravo, step aside, step aside
My man has a body that's driving me wild
With his easy gait and **** grooves
I'm sure ladies will come in droves
Shhh! but I'll let them in
And gladly kick their shin!
6.27.14
Aug 9, 2014
Aug 9, 2014 at 7:21 PM UTC
Vibrant colors,
droves of faces,
quite the happy daze
Tepid gods,
vast oasis,
such euphoric haze
Visions sublime,
befuddled senses
precede the happy dance
Creativity sparked,
mother nature's dreaming,
find your totem in the trance
by Mercurychyld
©
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 8:29 AM UTC
Some and not others whipsaw crazy headlights gleaming not in the right but swerves heavy to the left and cackles it's ok, it's alright. Grackly hands descend from ahigh to grasp a young cheek and laugh why. Too-bright lights and too-harsh smiles carry us into the future for days and miles. Brought up on too much salt and too much sugar they burn like moth gods and they die in droves. Speciel endization is all in the lighting, the moisture content and land levels. Look at the moon and say it isn't true; it's mocking us yet awaiting you.
She was born at zero and waited seven years to be a hero and the story is that instead of dying she pushed all the red buttons and got to flying. Mars was on the loom so she needed extra room for all the food and water. She arrived at age eight and a galactic hero, to be everyone's daughter but eventually just a genetic *** barrel.
Because the farther we go
The farther we are.
But the further we go
The further we are.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 4:15 PM UTC
I remember them well,
droves of street-urchins
in every little ville,
battling it out
with water bazookas
filled with **** water,
squirting the hell
out of each other,
staining holey shirts,
for a smidgeon of joy.
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 1:05 AM UTC
I swear to god I've seen that pole
about a kilometer a go
I swear to god I've seen that tree
barren, wasted of it's leaves
I swear to god I've seen that barn
bent and crooked on that farm
I swear to god ive seen that pond
the ugly geese have spooked the swans
I swear to god I've crossed these tracks
our shocks are shot and so's my back
I swear at god everytime
I have to make this god dam drive
I swear to god it always snows
humongous flakes, down in droves
I swear to god it always rains
when the gas tank's almost drained
I swear to god the traffics jammed
every inch of the trans
I swear to god the coffee's weak
like the towns, bland and bleak
I swear to god it's all the same
this road must lead to hells gates
I swear at god everytime
I have to make this god dam drive
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 5:18 PM UTC
Demagogues of our society; daftly delivering
disarming delusions of decrepit delights.
Dealing in powder, rock and liquid death,
demurely doled out in droves to the
willing unconscious, dysfunctional deviants
of the land.
Blindly offering devotions, flaccid devotions
to plastic, white collar deities; giving new
definition to internal deformity, through
decelerated dejection.
Desperate and emotionally dismembered,
defrauded by quick, cheap decadence,
debauchery, and mental decay in many
deliriously delicious forms...pick a flavor,
name your poison!
Delegate your defect, as those with
doctoral degrees in defunct traditions
do deviously delineate their demented
designs...for our future.
DejaVu?
Perhaps, but in fact, it is we
who sniff, inject and drink up their drivel,
decidedly and dutifully depleted of
intellect by way of dubious data.
Duplicitous dullards...sanitize and
deodorize their fiendish lies...as we,
WE do nothing!
Not enough of us dumbfounded or
dumbstruck by their deceitful smiles.
Full of dread and deep dismay, by
the statutes of the day...I, for one,
will dream of better days, when we
shall defeat these diabolical demons.
But for now, down beaten, downtrodden;
we will continue to be denigrated for
the duration.
Clever dissection; dumb as they want you
to be,
disparity of all creativity...individuality...
and all of your rights...controversially.
Our disgruntled displeasure doomed...to
fall on dormant hearts...and we,
debilitated and daunted, lives dismantled,
are now forever haunted, by our freedoms
demise...by days we could question
their smiling lies.
Demagogues; Big Brother...such delinquents
dosing up the masses with a deluge of powder,
rock sedation and liquid elation...pick your flavor,
name your poison.
At the end of the day WE are ONE...duped,
defaced, defeated...and to continue on this
road, our final denouement will come
disturbingly disguised...as DEATH!
-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 3:40 PM UTC
There’d be a day, she’d say
Where jubilee fills the street
And neon buildings open their mouths
Unleashing droves of joyous peoples
And they’d mob the streets in love and happiness
And sing of splendor and living proper
And we’d sing along with the crowds
beneath the candy-coated clouds
As we’d wait for the rains to come
And embrace one another in excitement
And anticipation
Awaiting to go home
Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 10:33 PM UTC