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MBJ Pancras Sep 2015
An enigmatic smile she’s dressed with to chant mystery,
Poets and bards with their magical poesy tried the mystery,
Philosophers and thinkers broke their minds to unravel the secrecy,
Scientists and law makers built hypotheses and verdicts to read hers,
Painters and sculptors fatigued with their colours and clay,
Actors and directors enacted to unknot the thread of obscurity.
Odes and epics, long-written, attempted to sing Lisa’s Smile;
But reflections of their beloveds’ smile read in their verses,
Philosophies and thoughts expressed in huge volumes;
But less understood even the painter’s invention,
Theories and laws built around Science and Law;
But little is the outcome of their propositions sans the mystery,
Colours and clay played on mighty imaginative realms;
But Mona Lisa ne’er spoke of her mystery Smile.
Enactments on massive stages thrilled the collective audiences;
But Mona Lisa hid the mystery of her Smile.

I walked around the garden of poetry with fragrance of mystery,
I saw a poem in her distinctive beauty ruling my mind’s eye.
She smiled at my heart and in turn my heart smiled at her,
Her smile taught me a mystery and it took time to read it;
Yet there was a veil betwixt us, and I took my plume to write.
She took my heart unto her, and I romped in joy.
She’s been decked with melody and rhymes,
And the string of verses stretched beyond the horizon,
Where the mystery of Lisa’s Smile be found.
She took me with her beyond the horizon,
And I followed her with no utterance till our destination.
She laughed at me for my silence;
Yet she smiled unto me; but her smile looked unfathomable.

She smiled and smiled at me; yet she had no utterance for me;
She looked a little bit puzzling unto me, and I had no answer;
Yet her smile dwelled in me, and I invoked the Muse of Poetry.
“Thou art to be a silent lover, and her smile is the answer unto thee,
She’s the Mona Lisa; she can’t speak, but smile and smile.”
I lay on the soil of the kingdom of poetry, imbibing Lisa’s Smile,
I adorn her smile; I worship her smile; I revere her smile,
Let me not move away from the garden of poetry
Till Lisa’s Smile is translated unto me.

I waited and waited and I found the answer:
Lisa smiles and her smile is the love of silence.
My heart rests in silence that her love is felt within.
She uttered into me:”Speak not, but love with smile,
And that the mystery of my Smile and my Smile lasts.”

I know why Mona Lisa smiles.
She loves me with her silent Smile.
About Mona Lisa
MBJ Pancras Sep 2015
An enigmatic smile she’s dressed with to chant mystery,
Poets and bards with their magical poesy tried the mystery,
Philosophers and thinkers broke their minds to unravel the secrecy,
Scientists and law makers built hypotheses and verdicts to read hers,
Painters and sculptors fatigued with their colours and clay,
Actors and directors enacted to unknot the thread of obscurity.
Odes and epics, long-written, attempted to sing Lisa’s Smile;
But reflections of their beloveds’ smile read in their verses,
Philosophies and thoughts expressed in huge volumes;
But less understood even the painter’s invention,
Theories and laws built around Science and Law;
But little is the outcome of their propositions sans the mystery,
Colours and clay played on mighty imaginative realms;
But Mona Lisa ne’er spoke of her mystery Smile.
Enactments on massive stages thrilled the collective audiences;
But Mona Lisa hid the mystery of her Smile.

I walked around the garden of poetry with fragrance of mystery,
I saw a poem in her distinctive beauty ruling my mind’s eye.
She smiled at my heart and in turn my heart smiled at her,
Her smile taught me a mystery and it took time to read it;
Yet there was a veil betwixt us, and I took my plume to write.
She took my heart unto her, and I romped in joy.
She’s been decked with melody and rhymes,
And the string of verses stretched beyond the horizon,
Where the mystery of Lisa’s Smile be found.
She took me with her beyond the horizon,
And I followed her with no utterance till our destination.
She laughed at me for my silence;
Yet she smiled unto me; but her smile looked unfathomable.

She smiled and smiled at me; yet she had no utterance for me;
She looked a little bit puzzling unto me, and I had no answer;
Yet her smile dwelled in me, and I invoked the Muse of Poetry.
“Thou art to be a silent lover, and her smile is the answer unto thee,
She’s the Mona Lisa; she can’t speak, but smile and smile.”
I lay on the soil of the kingdom of poetry, imbibing Lisa’s Smile,
I adorn her smile; I worship her smile; I revere her smile,
Let me not move away from the garden of poetry
Till Lisa’s Smile is translated unto me.

I waited and waited and I found the answer:
Lisa smiles and her smile is the love of silence.
My heart rests in silence that her love is felt within.
She uttered into me:”Speak not, but love with smile,
And that the mystery of my Smile and my Smile lasts.”

I know why Mona Lisa smiles.
She loves me with her silent Smile.
Mona Lisa's Smile
Styles Mar 2018
Hot as Fire
cold as ice
she encapsule
a chapel
of heaven
and hell
her universe
well versed;
                    I dwelled.
Adam M Snow Apr 2014
Reflection
Written by Adam M. Snow

I am alone this night of flutter;
confusion reigns, so I utter,
"The air is that of a clouded dream;
so dark like that of an ordeal gleam."

I wonder where this fancy bestowed me;
in a room, damp it be.
My vision is blurred by this smoky scene.
I see only a table, draped of shallow green.

I pondered there for a moment, a moment it was;
but apparently a moment too long, came abuzz.
It echoes louder, louder atop of that table cloth;
calling to me my once forgotten troth.

So heedfully I approach the table with ease,
Seeing afar it covered in bluish frieze.
My vision once blurred, now felt clearer;
that vanity table shown an olden mirror.

Now from the vanity table, a mirror I now held
I glanced upon myself, now greatly compelled.
A face has shown, was I yet not I,
it cursed myself to die.

The image that was shown had shadowed a vision:
Ye or I inter sweet derision,
o'er thy pass of insanity wake
as much of pain as I could take.

The mirror’s shown cracked; I feel it no more.
My heart beats cold, my days be ****.
I'd fallen apart to lose my way;
“Am I now one in a blackened day?”

I watched my life now turned to mist;
The writer is I, who cannot exist.
I shown cracked in my own reflection
these wounds are the signs of my affliction.

I am one in this reflection shown two;
seeking to make my life anew.
I asked my reflection to be shown;
my truth, my past is left unknown.

I ask of thee, "Let it be done."
The writer is I, the lonely one
My reflection, it strains drops of blood;
engulfs it now in life's lowly flood.

My eyes are stained as I lay cold,
I am weak-bound growing old.
My voice is muted as my heart now breaks;
my body's bounded, my soul still aches.

Misery whelms my ever being,
leaving I without a sight for seeing.
Burned into my mind, a vision of pain
as the mirror, cursed me insane.

To be upon a mirror image,
upon a worldly scrimmage.
My reflection does not show
this truth I do not dare to know.

The mirror’s cracked; I feel it no more.
My heart beats cold, leaving me sore.
I've fallen apart and lost my way;
“Am I but one in a blackened day?”

I long for amity among benevolence,
a sought after among your prevalence.
I am now we and we look back;
my ember morn has now grown so black.

The mirror is shattered, my image is not;
my demons has shown its devilish plot.
I've been raised yet to have fallen-
My life, my heart song is stolen.

My reflection in vision pains,
I am bound by my worldly chains.
I am force to face myself in this state,
the mirror shows, it-is-my-fate.

My image is broken yet is whole,
I seek only for my life's role.
I'm reaching through out the dark,
my only light a petite spark.

Nevermore will my reflection show;
I'm lost with no place left to go.
The mirror's lust has failed;
is this not where I dwelled?

My tears are falling upon my reflection
this holds for me no resurrection.
This cracked mirror now shows only one;
the life in this mirror is nearly done.

My reflection, it is not new;
like the mirror it's turning blue.
I, myself gone insane,
I shall not lack in vain.

I am not myself, let I be smite;
this is the shine of evil's light.
I only love yet I still hate,
I know now it is my fate.

I feared myself, of who I am,
curse me now let thee be ******.
Bow ye not of I with shame,
only I am whom to blame.

I cannot live like the past,
nor the future of all in vast
http://amsnow.weebly.com
Ivan Brooks Sr Jan 2018
Before all of this, even after all of this, I will forever be a patriot.
Before the poet in me matured and I started talking like a parrot,
The dogs of war barked and I climbed exile's fence on my own
And there I have dwelled, with nothing tangible to bring me down.

I have been on this fence so long and I will remain there forever!
Especially since the premature child is still in the incubator.
From this vantage point, I have learned never to trust any politician
I've always looked at them with mistrust, disdain, and suspicion,

Before all of this  and before I ran and climbed the exile fence,
I was once mercilessly flogged, dragged and made to dance
By drugged up and coerced child soldiers with a rubber cable
They tied and spread me like a dog on the market table
I watched as innocent people were killed with a rusty knife
There, I vowed to become a fence dweller for the rest of my life!

I've been a patriot all my life but I have done it from here..safer.
From here I have seen blood spilled, hearts broken, hopes dashed,
progresses stalled, mullions embezzled, promises broken, lies told
people changed, games played, party surfed, interests prioritized.
And from this vantage point, I have learned never ever to trust any politician
I have always been right...though I have looked on with disdain, suspicion,
and operated with caution but through it all, I have remained a true patriot and a fence dweller.

.✍️©️✍️IvanBrooksPoetry.✍️©️✍️
''Fence dweller'' was a phrase I coined in justification of my neutrality and abstinence from politics in my homeland, Liberia.This piece encapsulates a fringe of the story of the ****** civil war, carnage and horrible things that we saw and had to endure as a people and nation.
Hal Loyd Denton Nov 2012
We know not the times or the gifts that are ours specifically and unequally you see someone at a
Distance walking through a pastoral scene away and down a hill at first by voice recognition you
Know who he is this grandfatherly figure brings a flood of feelings and moods to brush your soul
With the telling of wonder of intimate days and moments you have shared so often you smile as
He naps quietly and then a night comes where for one reason or another you get involved and the
Whole night is used for this activity the next day being Saturday you relax and in the late afternoon
You at first just set for what you think is a moment but the previous night delightfully and pleasantly
Catches up with you sleep affords you this non cumbersome trip of ease and you awaken and it is dark
At first groggy disoriented just like in a dream this logical but off answer is provided then you finally
Figure out what is going on what surprise and pleasure to know you have been ambushed by a slight
Tiredness that robed you in sweet bliss then trimmed it in solace you stir yourself and do minor things
Until it’s the bed time hour but instead of the normal lights out its turn away from the computer shut off
The television **** all the lights but one and then just purposely luxuriate in the soft amber glow it
Provides set the rudder to take you to sweet wonder as you drift to unspoken destinations these are
Truly simple joys where the need to be careful comes in we know even creation and all its splendors are
Fragile a great rush of water with four feet of foam froth and power charges down it has a twin that is
Separated by this mass of rock that rises upwards of fifty feet the water falls over it in a different way
These strings of water that cover the face from one side to the other and they are accompanied with the
Sweetest mist so you have this forked water show on both sides of powerful water all this glory of white
Power rushing then falling and then the center piece contrasted to this sense such power and mass and
The water is shear as it tenderly descends the mist is truly natures kiss the sound is the embrace the
Engulfing privilege we possess and own as humans but this could be harmed and ruined in so many sad
Ways thats why we are extraordinarily careful we want to preserve it for all times as human beings my
Friends we also can by indifference and lack of understating can harm friends that in their own right
Are spiritual streams that come from great spiritual head waters that were pristine and then one greater
Than all of us caused such harm and destruction in the purist place a garden I wrote and posted Fertile
Ground the great mind of Lincoln said in his day and he meant it for all of our history a nation as great as
Ours can and must be sustained yes our armies and navy are a part but in his speech He says if
“Destruction be our lot we must ourselves be its author and finisher as a nation of freemen we must
Must live through all time or die by suicide what constitutes the bulwark of our liberty and
Independence it is not our frowning battlements our bristling sea coasts the guns of our war steamers
Or the strength of our gallant and disciplined army these are not our reliance against the resumption of
Tyranny in our fair land all of them may be turned against our liberties without making us stronger
Or weaker for the struggle our reliance is in the love of liberty which God has planted in our bosoms our
Defense is in the preservation of the spirit that prizes liberty as the heritage of all men in all lands
Everywhere destroy this spirit and you have planted the seeds of despotism around you own doors
Familiarize yourselves with the chains of ******* and you are preparing your own limbs to wear them
Accustomed to trample on the right of those around you you become the fit subjects of the first cunning
Tyrant who rises” sound words of wisdom that benefit all men we can’t release our responsibility and
Expect a continuance of our freedom this is careful part of this piece Thomas Jefferson had this to say “I
Tremble for my country when I reflect that God is just and his justice cannot sleep foe ever” what more
Prized possessions do you own than family and friends but if we deny and ignore our duty to be men
And women of righteousness how can we complain when civil authority in all manners deteriorates it
Can stand on no higher moral ground than we the people ourselves maintain we are the streaming
Waters of good or bad that flows through relationships ungodliness is a reproach to any nation by their
Fruits they will be known like it or not eat sins treats fine but know this the soul that sins it shall surely
Die it is a law an all living and loving father died to make sure no one could be a tyrant over you only
Yourselves hold that power every devil in hell can assault you but never can he claim victory until he
Sees the white flag of righteousness flying and it is saying I surrender my life of freedom bought by the
Pure sacrificial lamb God’s own son you could practically tell he was human they whipped him with a cat
Of nine tales with metal and bone he struggled down the Via Dolorosa each step declared your freedom
The song says He could have called ten thousand angels and it wasn’t nails that held your Savior to that
Cruel cross he had the ability to see everyone of us he knew how bitter and hard life would be if you
Walk it without him He said my burden is light and my yoke is easy it might sound obscure today but it is
Just as real walk beyond his love in disobedience and you will be punished by the god of this world and
Then he will take you to his fiery home as his subject I wrote before you are his greatest trophy he has
You on display in his lair because you are the greatest treasure God has not golden streets
You fist loved me and my brothers and sisters the tears that I cry in private it says this is doing the work
Of the savior increase my tears and sorrow because too many of them are hurting and know not your
Comfort lost in a savage world not any longer their own a usurper took them captive love replaced by
Cruelty is their lot if they could only see your painful longing as you look for them to come home every
Day they would truly break ties to this fallen world and fly to your presence they believe the lie that they
Have it figured out what sadness they are left with and they never have tasted your sweet spirit they
Mistake the boundless love they feel as if it were your spirit of intimacy outward love doesn’t reach
Inner depths satisfying to the point one person who cried stop no more I will die his love is truly deeper
Than the sea even the universe and Carl Sagan a man of science he was an American astronomer
Astrophysicist cosmologist author science popularizer science communicator sounds impressive but the
Reality he had an assistant and she had to be brilliant to a degree to be working with him but she was
More she was a born again Christian many were the years she loved and sought to help him not to just
Love the Cosmos but love the one who made them her persistence was to no avail you can make a god
Of many things even science how tragic he can be a warning guard your heart and you will preserve your
Soul

Going to include Fertile Ground that includes Streaks of Jefferson and Most Hated Twins I put on there
Lincoln said we should read such things

This important if you haven’t read it

Fertile Ground
O thou great Jefferson in whom dwelled the fidelity of a nation of free men.
Thy secretes can be viewed as we watch you live and breathe the life of a grand Virginia planter
When one is a student of nature and observes its subtle lessons becomes its master and ally. The next
Step of going to lead men is reasonable when taken into count the natural gifts that were refined in
Quiet fields and hills in lengthy times of treasured solitude that is not to say there won’t be difficulties
But to a merchandiser of lofty thoughts this is of little consequence. There are issues that must be
Divined through the protracted business of hard arduous study. Man’s soul drifts in and out of the valley
And hills taking unconsciously truths that exist they are everywhere but can be buried in life’s clamor.
To purposely walk across a field with your with your senses open will usher you into a place quiet
Unsettling if you are one who is uneasy in your own thoughts because the vistas will allow your mind to
Extend it to the far reaches ordinary thoughts will jump over conventional restraints and give you
Profound insights Jefferson graduated from this school of higher learning for this very important time
This man of stature arose he flung freedom’s door wide open walked through set down at his desk and
Masterfully penned immortal words, to this day time hasn’t diminished any of their importance or there
Revered excellence this document would go unparalleled in type and execution, in forming the basis for
Human conduct it would forever alter the landscape that that had existed before its grand arrival.
The stinginess of former centuries were at long last over the mind had finally
Liberated the body the willingness to do for one’s self had taken the lead there was no
Turning back, these actions would recommend them as a people. Their credentials intact now they were
Ready for the world stage a new birth of nobility walked into the human condition and it wasn’t
In the least bit hesitant to speak thoughts that had long been silenced.
The trouble today stems from the lack of understanding we have about the truth,
Of what oppression would be unleashed if our form of government would be allowed to be dissolved we
Love the dream but deplore the reality. That this system will only work when we are involved. It has a
Built in detection device, you can’t use its rewards without paying it back with service.
The results will be contagious you will be left with a weak sickly government.
The remedy simple everyone has to be its central guardian.
This does not mean that it is weak this was the way it was created it is as strong as you
Are willing to have it know this it will always be dependent on human involvement.
We might not like it but we are making a choice freedom will be loosed or bound by our decision.
The product that we deal with is very supple and ever changeable it becomes whatever form you pour it
Into this is in accordance with its nature it also is a gauge of those that handle its virtues and shows if
You have had reverence or contempt. You will be left with honor or disgrace did you carry forth the gift
Or allow it to waver the children of the next generation are watching.
Streaks of Jefferson
In freedom’s blessed glorified sky through streaks of immortal gold his visage we behold
He looks upon the fields of liberty that he and the founding fathers sowed he sees the
Richness America has become he also beheld her struggles catastrophic wars abroad
And the most painful the one that divided the nation marred it with southern and northern
Blood saw the affable the sad giant Lincoln take the reins of discontent hold them by
Shear will and with uncommon sagacity guided it back in line to fulfill its destiny as the
Powerful fount that would always pour forth waters of freedom for all of earths peoples
Total unconditional acceptance of liberty and all the fruit it bears to establish a
Government like no other this golden grain has waved under bluest skies and brightest
Sun light its rich harvest has gone to darkest prison cells Mandela was sustained by it
For twenty nine years and by its moral purity it fed the lives of those that over threw
Apartied and Mandela finally freed by principals it avows rose from prison clothes
To wear the mantle of president of his country and the honor of the man instilled
Quality that transcended political office Jefferson not to be disrespectful to his progeny
Whispers today’s politicians could do well to look on this African model of good
Stewardship of public trust with that Jefferson faded back into the mist pray that’s
Not the fate of this country
Most hated twins
Who are these two desperate characters revered but feared by all
To make their acutance few will volunteer those who know them well
All can tell by the drawn face and the tears that swell the pool where wisdom has her rule
Achievers welcome them as honored guest they withstood the test now they the richest blest
At mornings first blade of light they strike with all their might they the quickest to fight
Timorous to afraid how many have dwelt by waters undying well only to die unfulfilled
But others tried and they fell the well is to deep its where darkest shadows creep
We will be lost in these new surroundings the familiar there will be water there too
Yes stagnant unmoved guarded for naught its benefit was for the traveler going places
For you it will be your grave marker he talked and talked but venture on never
He said he was the clever one as his countenance slowly turned to stone killed by apathy
Green pastures call to find them in yourself health you will install
Few are they that were meant and born to reside in the same place you must go
If you stay rebuild the common and ordinary your monument then they will admire
Who stood to long and with all intention he gave it only words action was the wonder that was missing
Treading a narrow path in the end if you buried or squandered your talent divine wrath you will face
Cast your seed far and wide how can you not see the need sorrow has them tied
Push back the encircling darkness with the light in your heart that God did endow
Go and answer the door your guides are here I want you to meet two friends Pain and Adversity
Two finer companions you will never know Washington and his men befriended them at Valley Forge Concord, York town. Lincoln met them first at Bull Run Antietam I think he gave a little speech at Gettysburg. One birthed a nation the other saved a divided one.
Terry O'Leary Feb 2014
The Tale below was carved one night
Upon the Stone, by candlelight
...most won’t believe, but some just might
.........most won’t believe, but some just might



                         Preface

Well James made Beth his lovely bride
(And angels smiled, though teary eyed)
...their bodies bound, their spirits tied
.........their bodies bound, their spirits tied

Upon her hand, a shimmer shone,
As bright as blood, a ruby Stone
...and brighter still, as love had grown
.........and brighter still, as love had grown

Soon James was sent to man a sail
So Beth removed her wedding veil
...her eyes were moist, her face was pale
.........her eyes were moist, her face was pale

“Well, I’ll be here when you return”
Said Beth to James, who kissed in turn
...a kiss that made her body burn
.........a kiss that made her body burn



                         BETH’S TALE

1.              The Dream

One night, within a dream deformed,
The cawing of a Crow informed
“...the Ship was struck where winter stormed
.........the Ship was struck where winter stormed

Midst winds and waves the thunder boomed
The Ship of Death was surely doomed
...the sea engulfed, the surf entombed
.........the sea engulfed, the surf entombed

Your James… deceived by Davy Jones!
With spirit freed, his flesh and bones
...now rest amongst the ashen Stones
.........now rest amongst the ashen Stones”



2.               The Quest

Awoken by the ebon Wight
And beckoned by the baneful bight
...I left before the morning light
.........I left before the morning light

Throughout the realm I rode a roan
Until, in time, I reached the Stone
...where shades in dreams of darkness groan
.........where shades in dreams of darkness groan

While skipping up and down the sky
A missing moonbeam mocked my eye
...enough to make a Swallow cry
.........enough to make a Swallow cry

For someone stole a star or two
And something else that fate withdrew -
...my jewel of joy, my James Bijou  
.........my jewel of joy, my James Bijou

The shadows of the evening swelled
Where demons of the dusk had dwelled
...and in the far, a vesper knelled
.........and in the far, a vesper knelled

The Stone, beneath the sky, stood cold -
Between the runes, a vapour strolled
...a cloak of fleecy fog consoled
.........a cloak of fleecy fog consoled

A Raven on a branch, enthroned,
Her wings waved once, a wail intoned
...beyond the bay, a banshee moaned
.........beyond the bay, a banshee moaned

I lay beside the Stone, his bride
I lay beside the Stone and cried
...but were it I, instead, that died
.........but were it I, instead, that died

The rainbow of the moon fell dim
A midnight Swan soon ceased to swim
...as if to hide all hint of him
.........as if to hide all hint of him

Between the willows in the swale
Bewailed a Bird, a Nightingale
...which left me faint, my body frail
.........which left me faint, my body frail



3.              Contact

I felt him breathe within a breeze  
Responding to my anguished pleas
...and leaves blew by abandoned trees
.........and leaves blew by abandoned trees

“Eternal love, my darling Beth”
Enshrined within a final breath
...re-echoed from the Ship of Death
.........re-echoed from the Ship of Death

The Stone lit up a ruby sheen
And clouds were kindled crystalline
...with consequences, unforeseen
.........with consequences, unforeseen

Above, a wretched Raven soared
To where the Ship of Death’d been moored
...below, the icy ocean roared
.........below, the icy ocean roared



4.               Release

I’m joined with James beneath the Stone,
Though to the Ship my spirit’s flown,
...for nevermore to be alone
.........for nevermore to be alone



                         Epilogue
That night the wayward winds were weird
The Ship of Death had disappeared
...coyotes called and mortals feared
.........coyotes called and mortals feared

At dusk, the craven shadows crawled
At dawn, the winds of mourning called
...upon the Stone two names were scrawled
.........upon the Stone two names were scrawled

The Raven sits, with wings outspread,
Atop the Stone which shades the dead
...it sometimes shimmers ruby red
.........it sometimes shimmers ruby red



                         Epitaph
Between the sounds, where silence seeps,
Their love lives on and never sleeps
...and yet, the weeping willow weeps
.........and yet, the weeping willow weeps
Cné Oct 2017
In a castle, near a mountain
in his dark, dire paradigm
dwelled a Doctor, the concoctor
of the monster, Frankenstein.

In a house not of the living
where people used to dine
he found a head in a bed
for the monster, Frankenstein.

In a graveyard near his castle
where the sun refused to shine
he found some noses and some toeses
for his monster, Frankenstein.

And on this night there came a storm
where lightening struck a line
of his fusion with execution
there rose his Frankenstein.
Halloween Fun
The double 12 sorwe of Troilus to tellen,  
That was the king Priamus sone of Troye,
In lovinge, how his aventures fellen
Fro wo to wele, and after out of Ioye,
My purpos is, er that I parte fro ye.  
Thesiphone, thou help me for tendyte
Thise woful vers, that wepen as I wryte!

To thee clepe I, thou goddesse of torment,
Thou cruel Furie, sorwing ever in peyne;
Help me, that am the sorwful instrument  
That helpeth lovers, as I can, to pleyne!
For wel sit it, the sothe for to seyne,
A woful wight to han a drery fere,
And, to a sorwful tale, a sory chere.

For I, that god of Loves servaunts serve,  
Ne dar to Love, for myn unlyklinesse,
Preyen for speed, al sholde I therfor sterve,
So fer am I fro his help in derknesse;
But nathelees, if this may doon gladnesse
To any lover, and his cause avayle,  
Have he my thank, and myn be this travayle!

But ye loveres, that bathen in gladnesse,
If any drope of pitee in yow be,
Remembreth yow on passed hevinesse
That ye han felt, and on the adversitee  
Of othere folk, and thenketh how that ye
Han felt that Love dorste yow displese;
Or ye han wonne hym with to greet an ese.

And preyeth for hem that ben in the cas
Of Troilus, as ye may after here,  
That love hem bringe in hevene to solas,
And eek for me preyeth to god so dere,
That I have might to shewe, in som manere,
Swich peyne and wo as Loves folk endure,
In Troilus unsely aventure.  

And biddeth eek for hem that been despeyred
In love, that never nil recovered be,
And eek for hem that falsly been apeyred
Thorugh wikked tonges, be it he or she;
Thus biddeth god, for his benignitee,  
So graunte hem sone out of this world to pace,
That been despeyred out of Loves grace.

And biddeth eek for hem that been at ese,
That god hem graunte ay good perseveraunce,
And sende hem might hir ladies so to plese,  
That it to Love be worship and plesaunce.
For so hope I my soule best avaunce,
To preye for hem that Loves servaunts be,
And wryte hir wo, and live in charitee.

And for to have of hem compassioun  
As though I were hir owene brother dere.
Now herkeneth with a gode entencioun,
For now wol I gon streight to my matere,
In whiche ye may the double sorwes here
Of Troilus, in loving of Criseyde,  
And how that she forsook him er she deyde.

It is wel wist, how that the Grekes stronge
In armes with a thousand shippes wente
To Troyewardes, and the citee longe
Assegeden neigh ten yeer er they stente,  
And, in diverse wyse and oon entente,
The ravisshing to wreken of Eleyne,
By Paris doon, they wroughten al hir peyne.

Now fil it so, that in the toun ther was
Dwellinge a lord of greet auctoritee,  
A gret devyn that cleped was Calkas,
That in science so expert was, that he
Knew wel that Troye sholde destroyed be,
By answere of his god, that highte thus,
Daun Phebus or Apollo Delphicus.  

So whan this Calkas knew by calculinge,
And eek by answere of this Appollo,
That Grekes sholden swich a peple bringe,
Thorugh which that Troye moste been for-do,
He caste anoon out of the toun to go;  
For wel wiste he, by sort, that Troye sholde
Destroyed ben, ye, wolde who-so nolde.

For which, for to departen softely
Took purpos ful this forknowinge wyse,
And to the Grekes ost ful prively  
He stal anoon; and they, in curteys wyse,
Hym deden bothe worship and servyse,
In trust that he hath conning hem to rede
In every peril which that is to drede.

The noyse up roos, whan it was first aspyed,  
Thorugh al the toun, and generally was spoken,
That Calkas traytor fled was, and allyed
With hem of Grece; and casten to ben wroken
On him that falsly hadde his feith so broken;
And seyden, he and al his kin at ones  
Ben worthy for to brennen, fel and bones.

Now hadde Calkas left, in this meschaunce,
Al unwist of this false and wikked dede,
His doughter, which that was in gret penaunce,
For of hir lyf she was ful sore in drede,  
As she that niste what was best to rede;
For bothe a widowe was she, and allone
Of any freend to whom she dorste hir mone.

Criseyde was this lady name a-right;
As to my dome, in al Troyes citee  
Nas noon so fair, for passing every wight
So aungellyk was hir natyf beautee,
That lyk a thing immortal semed she,
As doth an hevenish parfit creature,
That doun were sent in scorning of nature.  

This lady, which that al-day herde at ere
Hir fadres shame, his falsnesse and tresoun,
Wel nigh out of hir wit for sorwe and fere,
In widewes habit large of samit broun,
On knees she fil biforn Ector a-doun;  
With pitous voys, and tendrely wepinge,
His mercy bad, hir-selven excusinge.

Now was this Ector pitous of nature,
And saw that she was sorwfully bigoon,
And that she was so fair a creature;  
Of his goodnesse he gladed hir anoon,
And seyde, 'Lat your fadres treson goon
Forth with mischaunce, and ye your-self, in Ioye,
Dwelleth with us, whyl you good list, in Troye.

'And al thonour that men may doon yow have,  
As ferforth as your fader dwelled here,
Ye shul han, and your body shal men save,
As fer as I may ought enquere or here.'
And she him thonked with ful humble chere,
And ofter wolde, and it hadde ben his wille,  
And took hir leve, and hoom, and held hir stille.

And in hir hous she abood with swich meynee
As to hir honour nede was to holde;
And whyl she was dwellinge in that citee,
Kepte hir estat, and bothe of yonge and olde  
Ful wel beloved, and wel men of hir tolde.
But whether that she children hadde or noon,
I rede it naught; therfore I late it goon.

The thinges fellen, as they doon of werre,
Bitwixen hem of Troye and Grekes ofte;  
For som day boughten they of Troye it derre,
And eft the Grekes founden no thing softe
The folk of Troye; and thus fortune on-lofte,
And under eft, gan hem to wheelen bothe
After hir cours, ay whyl they were wrothe.  

But how this toun com to destruccioun
Ne falleth nought to purpos me to telle;
For it were a long digressioun
Fro my matere, and yow to longe dwelle.
But the Troyane gestes, as they felle,  
In Omer, or in Dares, or in Dyte,
Who-so that can, may rede hem as they wryte.

But though that Grekes hem of Troye shetten,
And hir citee bisegede al a-boute,
Hir olde usage wolde they not letten,  
As for to honoure hir goddes ful devoute;
But aldermost in honour, out of doute,
They hadde a relik hight Palladion,
That was hir trist a-boven everichon.

And so bifel, whan comen was the tyme  
Of Aperil, whan clothed is the mede
With newe grene, of ***** Ver the pryme,
And swote smellen floures whyte and rede,
In sondry wyses shewed, as I rede,
The folk of Troye hir observaunces olde,  
Palladiones feste for to holde.

And to the temple, in al hir beste wyse,
In general, ther wente many a wight,
To herknen of Palladion servyse;
And namely, so many a ***** knight,  
So many a lady fresh and mayden bright,
Ful wel arayed, bothe moste and leste,
Ye, bothe for the seson and the feste.

Among thise othere folk was Criseyda,
In widewes habite blak; but nathelees,  
Right as our firste lettre is now an A,
In beautee first so stood she, makelees;
Hir godly looking gladede al the prees.
Nas never seyn thing to ben preysed derre,
Nor under cloude blak so bright a sterre  

As was Criseyde, as folk seyde everichoon
That hir behelden in hir blake wede;
And yet she stood ful lowe and stille alloon,
Bihinden othere folk, in litel brede,
And neigh the dore, ay under shames drede,  
Simple of a-tyr, and debonaire of chere,
With ful assured loking and manere.

This Troilus, as he was wont to gyde
His yonge knightes, ladde hem up and doun
In thilke large temple on every syde,  
Biholding ay the ladyes of the toun,
Now here, now there, for no devocioun
Hadde he to noon, to reven him his reste,
But gan to preyse and lakken whom him leste.

And in his walk ful fast he gan to wayten  
If knight or squyer of his companye
Gan for to syke, or lete his eyen bayten
On any woman that he coude aspye;
He wolde smyle, and holden it folye,
And seye him thus, 'god wot, she slepeth softe  
For love of thee, whan thou tornest ful ofte!

'I have herd told, pardieux, of your livinge,
Ye lovers, and your lewede observaunces,
And which a labour folk han in winninge
Of love, and, in the keping, which doutaunces;  
And whan your preye is lost, wo and penaunces;
O verrey foles! nyce and blinde be ye;
Ther nis not oon can war by other be.'

And with that word he gan cast up the browe,
Ascaunces, 'Lo! is this nought wysly spoken?'  
At which the god of love gan loken rowe
Right for despyt, and shoop for to ben wroken;
He kidde anoon his bowe nas not broken;
For sodeynly he hit him at the fulle;
And yet as proud a pekok can he pulle.  

O blinde world, O blinde entencioun!
How ofte falleth al theffect contraire
Of surquidrye and foul presumpcioun;
For caught is proud, and caught is debonaire.
This Troilus is clomben on the staire,  
And litel weneth that he moot descenden.
But al-day falleth thing that foles ne wenden.

As proude Bayard ginneth for to skippe
Out of the wey, so priketh him his corn,
Til he a lash have of the longe whippe,  
Than thenketh he, 'Though I praunce al biforn
First in the trays, ful fat and newe shorn,
Yet am I but an hors, and horses lawe
I moot endure, and with my feres drawe.'

So ferde it by this fers and proude knight;  
Though he a worthy kinges sone were,
And wende nothing hadde had swiche might
Ayens his wil that sholde his herte stere,
Yet with a look his herte wex a-fere,
That he, that now was most in pryde above,  
Wex sodeynly most subget un-to love.

For-thy ensample taketh of this man,
Ye wyse, proude, and worthy folkes alle,
To scornen Love, which that so sone can
The freedom of your hertes to him thralle;  
For ever it was, and ever it shal bifalle,
That Love is he that alle thing may binde;
For may no man for-do the lawe of kinde.

That this be sooth, hath preved and doth yet;
For this trowe I ye knowen, alle or some,  
Men reden not that folk han gretter wit
Than they that han be most with love y-nome;
And strengest folk ben therwith overcome,
The worthiest and grettest of degree:
This was, and is, and yet men shal it see.  

And trewelich it sit wel to be so;
For alderwysest han ther-with ben plesed;
And they that han ben aldermost in wo,
With love han ben conforted most and esed;
And ofte it hath the cruel herte apesed,  
And worthy folk maad worthier of name,
And causeth most to dreden vyce and shame.

Now sith it may not goodly be withstonde,
And is a thing so vertuous in kinde,
Refuseth not to Love for to be bonde,  
Sin, as him-selven list, he may yow binde.
The yerde is bet that bowen wole and winde
Than that that brest; and therfor I yow rede
To folwen him that so wel can yow lede.

But for to tellen forth in special  
As of this kinges sone of which I tolde,
And leten other thing collateral,
Of him thenke I my tale for to holde,
Both of his Ioye, and of his cares colde;
And al his werk, as touching this matere,  
For I it gan, I wol ther-to refere.

With-inne the temple he wente him forth pleyinge,
This Troilus, of every wight aboute,
On this lady and now on that lokinge,
Wher-so she were of toune, or of with-oute:  
And up-on cas bifel, that thorugh a route
His eye perced, and so depe it wente,
Til on Criseyde it smoot, and ther it stente.

And sodeynly he wax ther-with astoned,
And gan hire bet biholde in thrifty wyse:  
'O mercy, god!' thoughte he, 'wher hastow woned,
That art so fair and goodly to devyse?'
Ther-with his herte gan to sprede and ryse,
And softe sighed, lest men mighte him here,
And caughte a-yein his firste pleyinge chere.  

She nas nat with the leste of hir stature,
But alle hir limes so wel answeringe
Weren to womanhode, that creature
Was neuer lasse mannish in seminge.
And eek the pure wyse of here meninge  
Shewede wel, that men might in hir gesse
Honour, estat, and wommanly noblesse.

To Troilus right wonder wel with-alle
Gan for to lyke hir meninge and hir chere,
Which somdel deynous was, for she leet falle  
Hir look a lite a-side, in swich manere,
Ascaunces, 'What! May I not stonden here?'
And after that hir loking gan she lighte,
That never thoughte him seen so good a sighte.

And of hir look in him ther gan to quiken  
So greet desir, and swich affeccioun,
That in his herte botme gan to stiken
Of hir his fixe and depe impressioun:
And though he erst hadde poured up and doun,
He was tho glad his hornes in to shrinke;  
Unnethes wiste he how to loke or winke.

Lo, he that leet him-selven so konninge,
And scorned hem that loves peynes dryen,
Was ful unwar that love hadde his dwellinge
With-inne the subtile stremes of hir yen;  
That sodeynly him thoughte he felte dyen,
Right with hir look, the spirit in his herte;
Blissed be love, that thus can folk converte!

She, this in blak, likinge to Troylus,
Over alle thyng, he stood for to biholde;  
Ne his desir, ne wherfor he stood thus,
He neither chere made, ne worde tolde;
But from a-fer, his maner for to holde,
On other thing his look som-tyme he caste,
And eft on hir, whyl that servyse laste.  

And after this, not fulliche al awhaped,
Out of the temple al esiliche he wente,
Repentinge him that he hadde ever y-iaped
Of loves folk, lest fully the descente
Of scorn fille on him-self; but, what he mente,  
Lest it were wist on any maner syde,
His wo he gan dissimulen and hyde.

Whan he was fro the temple thus departed,
He streyght anoon un-to his paleys torneth,
Right with hir look thurgh-shoten and thurgh-darted,  
Al feyneth he in lust that he soiorneth;
And al his chere and speche also he borneth;
And ay, of loves servants every whyle,
Him-self to wrye, at hem he gan to smyle.

And seyde, 'Lord, so ye live al in lest,  
Ye loveres! For the conningest of yow,
That serveth most ententiflich and best,
Him *** as often harm ther-of as prow;
Your hyre is quit ayein, ye, god wot how!
Nought wel for wel, but scorn for good servyse;  
In feith, your ordre is ruled in good wyse!

'In noun-certeyn ben alle your observaunces,
But it a sely fewe poyntes be;
Ne no-thing asketh so grete attendaunces
As doth youre lay, and that knowe alle ye;  
But that is not the worste, as mote I thee;
But, tolde I yow the worste poynt, I leve,
Al seyde I sooth, ye wolden at me greve!

'But tak this, that ye loveres ofte eschuwe,
Or elles doon of good entencioun,  
Ful ofte thy lady wole it misconstrue,
And deme it harm in hir opinioun;
And yet if she, for other enchesoun,
Be wrooth, than shalt thou han a groyn anoon:
Lord! wel is him that may be of yow oon!'  

But for al this, whan that he say his tyme,
He held his pees, non other bote him gayned;
For love bigan his fetheres so to lyme,
That wel unnethe un-to his folk he fayned
That othere besye nedes him destrayned;  
For wo was him, that what to doon he niste,
But bad his folk to goon wher that hem liste.

And whan that he in chaumbre was allone,
He doun up-on his beddes feet him sette,
And first be gan to syke, and eft to grone,  
And thoughte ay on hir so, with-outen lette,
That, as he sat and wook, his spirit mette
That he hir saw a temple, and al the wyse
Right of hir loke, and gan it newe avyse.

Thus gan he make a mirour of his minde,  
In which he saugh al hoolly hir figure;
And that he wel coude in his herte finde,
It was to him a right good aventure
To love swich oon, and if he dide his cure
To serven hir, yet mighte he falle in grace,  
Or elles, for oon of hir servaunts pace.

Imagininge that travaille nor grame
Ne mighte, for so goodly oon, be lorn
As she, ne him for his desir ne shame,
Al were it wist, but in prys and up-born  
Of alle lovers wel more than biforn;
Thus argumented he in his ginninge,
Ful unavysed of his wo cominge.

Thus took he purpos loves craft to suwe,
And thou
Take me back to the days of a Ghanaian sunset.
When hope dwelled above the waters of despair
And I gazed into the eyes of a sinking soul.
Where trust and fear were honest and pure --
Felt in the mountains, cities and fishing boats alike.

I want the hot air, the mango juice dripping down my hand, the dirt kicked up around my shoes, the roosters in the streets, the taxi cab dodgeball games, the eggshell passenger rides, and the shy children singing across from me on the shore. Because I want it all back.

It's the feeling I had when I was there in a wide space so open -- it is a feeling I call free.
Silence, beautiful voice!
Be hard and still, for thou only troublest the mind,
And within such a joy I cannot rejoice,
a glory I shall not find.

Catch not my breath, o clamorous heart;
for thou art more horrendous than the horrendous,
and thy mourning over this heavy breath is far too hard,
but sounding alternately irresolute and pretentious.
Thou needst not be my ultimate, though doleful, present;
thou art wicked and frail as the serpent;
I shall let thy tongue be a thrall to my eye,
but vex thee greedily 'till thou benevolently saith goodbye.
I shall makest thee angry and giveth in to anger and lie
and let thee search about within my soul, and die.

Ah! Still, I shall listen to thee once more,
But move, I entreat; to the meadow and fall before
Thy feet on the meadow grass and adore
Bring my heart to thy heat but not make it sore
Not thine, which are neither courtly nor kind;
not mine, for thy youth still, makest me sweet and blind.
Oh, if only thou couldst be so sweet,
and thy smile all the worldliness I dreamt,
For it all wouldst no longer be stormy and pale,
or threatened be, to vanish amongst such winds or ghastly gales;
Ah, yon fairness wouldst be fair,
and scented as sweetly as thy hair.

Whom but thee, again, I should meet
Whenst at stormy nights sunset burneth
At the end of the head village street,
Whom I should meet behind the red ferns?
For I believest, in such boundlessness of fate
Fate that worlds cannot deny, and grudge cannot hate.
And, I believest indeed, my darling shall be there,
to touch he, shall my hand so sweet,
He bowest to me and utterest holy amends
To his future lover, but less than meekly hesitant; friend.

What if with his sunny hair
He connivest for me a snare
Who wouldst hath thought locks of gold so fair
Huddled and curved cozily by hands of care
Immersed in silver, tailored in gold
Even darker than toil, but sharper than words
Wouldst throw in my way pranks and deceit
As to his expectations I couldst not meet?
Wouldst he expect me to stand in the snow that couldst bite
and criest for and cursest him, in the middle of furious nights?

And what if with his sunny smile
Which he refineth with sweetness all the while
And with such an ostentatious remorse
That makest truthful delight even worse
He stealest my heart and makest me swear
So for any other I ought not to care
And my tears shall again be conceived in between
In the eternal mirror of revelling seasons, unseen
Knowing not what it hath done, or where it hath been
What if seas and clouds turnest just they are, so mean?

And imprisoned up and above
I shall hearest beloved Lord talk of the futility of love
And He shall oftentimes stop and mirthlessly laugh
Ruining the castles and puzzles and stories I dreamt of
If distances are not too far to walk to
I shall darest to cross my sphere and get over you
But sins hath perhaps forbidden my courteous intentions
As their meanness swayest me around with no destination-
ah, look at how their vile, grinning eyes temptest me!
They itchest my veins, they throttlest my knees;
and how uncivilly their ****** teeth hauntest me!
Indeedst, indeedst-they are far more horrendous than these living eyes canst see!

Perhaps his smile and tender tone
Were all that I imagined alone
Now that all spells hath grimly gone
Am I truly left on my own?
Ah, prone, prone is truly my soul
But I am distant here, lonely and cold
I am also strong but this solitude is too bold
I hath always been awake with truth, but this I cannot fold
And hovering dancing leaves are grotesquely thrown
About their echoing chambers opened wide
Until more rueful gravity has grown;
and hilarity fades wholly from my side

Once we came to the bench by the rouge church
And sat for hours by the wooden pillar alone
We sang along with the singing white birds
And those strangely blushing red thorns
'Till we fought everything burdened and curtly torn
As how the moon hurriedly cried 'till it found the morn
'Till suddenly, sweetly my heart beat stronger
And thicker, 'till I almost heard it no longer
But I realised, and fast mused and sighed
'No, it cannot stayest long, it cannot be pride.'

T'en we walked a mile-
Just a mile from the moors,
Circling about to find some exile
Away from noises and banging of doors.
We both pleaded, pleaded to our dear Lord
T'at genuine love our hearts couldst afford
But time grew envious and cut our walk short
As night approached and we suddenly had to resort.

And he too, he too was mad
And frowned and twitched that so made me sad
Endlessly alone he wouldst blame me and more fret
Sending myself down and brimmed with regrets
Like a parrot shuffling about its offspring's dying bed
My eyes grew warm and hurtful and red
Anger betrothed him to its indignant powers
Corrupted his cheers and drank away his laughters
I was furious, I cursed and kicked frantically at fate
How it grossly tainted and strained my tenuous date
For it was tenuous and I struggled to makest it strong;
but fate shamefully ripped it and all the triumph I'd woven, all along.

And losing him was indeedst everything,
nothing distracted me and kept my jostled self going.
I feelest lethargic even in my sleep,
I keepest falling from rocks in my dreams-ah, too leafy and steep!
I dreamest of suburbs that are rich with divine foliage,
I rejoicest in whose tranquil, though transient, merriment.
And as morn retreatest, I shall be again filled with rage,
I refusest to eat and enjoy even a slice of everyday's enjoyment.
I am now wholly conquered by worry; I was torn and lost in my own battlefield,
I hath no more guard that shall lift me upwards and grant me his shield.
Ah, I hath now been turned, to a whole nonentity;
at my wounds people shall turn away, with a foolish laugh and mock sorry.

O, love, and I am now vainly stuck in the night,
The night that refusest to leave my tired sight.
The night that keepest returning the dark
with no more hope of reflective sight,
and no more signs pertinent burning light,
and sick I'th become, of this jealous dread.
But am I really sick now? Utterly sick of this lonesome envy?
Ah, still I better refusest to know. My dreams are bad.
The shapes in there are far too inglorious and mad.
Just like those-ah! Do not let them harm me!
Where are my eyes? My very heart, my own blood,
and perhaps, my thorough sense of humanity?
One second back they were all still with me,
but they are all now ruined phantoms and shapes,
whenever I am fast asleep,
he turnest them out like obedient sheep
and handest them to the unseen to be *****.
He was neither sincere nor tactful,
and believed too heartly in his odious and ill-coloured soul.
Ah, but duly shall I even call this season harmful,
sorrows rule our hands, whilst distaste reign our men.
Disgrace ownest its peaks, within gratuitous handfuls,
men knowest not their lovers, speakest not of us as friends.
Ah, this is a bitter spring indeed, of anger and fear;
With thousands of evil tongues and evil ears,
For lovers are at war with their lovers,
and makest each others' eyes unseeing and blind.
Even God, our lovely God himself, is at war with his heavens,
for whose minds are lost, as real conscience shall never ever find.

Where is my love? Ah, perhaps staggering under the woods,
And I, who else, shall be with him,
Gathering woodland lilies,
Prosperously blooming under the trees.
Where is my heart? Ah, it is carried again within him,
as we layest about the green grass on our limbs,
with oiled lamps at our feet,
and tellest stories as our loving eyes lean closer and meet.

Ah, beauty! That is the picture in my mind,
not him, not him, that has sent me blind.
Still the image of him makes me sick,
his image that is as stony and greedy as a brick.

He has no feelings, he has no emotion,
he has no endurance and twists of natural passion.
He has all the strength and virility the world ever wanted,
but his mind remainst cold, his heart his own self once entered.
He is as unjust as a statue,
he knowest not wrong and right, nor false from true.
For whilst I tried to praise his being so comely,
he took all my remarks sedately,
he gazed at me with an arrogant face snarling,
and praised the gentleness of his own darling.

He is unthinking, savage, and unfeeling,
his face a human, his heart a brute.
He might be all the way comely and charming,
too pitiful he is inhuman and acts like a crude.
My fancy was sometimes real overbold,
for whenst I was to coo and hold, he was but to scream and scold.
Scorned, to be scorned by one that I not scorn,
whenst all this passion my shoulder had borne?
It is unfair and ignominiously hateful,
gross and unjust, horrid and spiteful.
A fool I am, to be unvexed with his pride!
And once, during repetitive daylight,
I past him, one day I was crossing his lands,
I did look at him not as a gentleman,
He was laughing at his own tediousness,
I dreaded him for that, but as I came home
later, I cried again, over his picture with madness.

Ah! How couldst I ever forget him,
whenst he is but the one I love?
No matter how strange this may seem,
he was the one I real dreamt of;
I want to love him not in a dream,
I want to touch him in his flesh.
I want to smell that scent of him,
and breathe onto his lap and his chest.
I want to sit in his oak-room,
and tellest him of stories of glad and gloom,
before the ocean-waves afar laid
next to quiet storms, amidst our private delight.
I want to have him selfishly!
Have him laugh endlessly with me,
and all the way love him madly;
with a heart so dearly but greedy.

What, if he fastened himself to this fool dame,
and bask in her infamous joy, and fame
Should I love him so well, if he
gave her heart to a thing so low?
Should I let him again smile at me
If we are bound to see each other tomorrow?
His smile, at times can be full of spite
Yet in spite of spite, he is all but comely and white;
I miss him, I miss him as just how I miss my dream,
He is, though marred, is just as sweet as I remember him,
I insist sorrow coming up to me,
To consolest and hearest here, my deepest plea
And ****** the most painful pain to he and she
And restore then, his innocent self to me.

I hearest no sound from where I am standing
But the rivulets and tiny drops of rain
Are starting to send moonlight to my whining
As I twitch and swirl and whirl about in the rain.
I watch people flock in and out the evening train;
their thoughts hidden, like all the mimicry in a quiet play.
Hearts full of glowing love, and at the same time, of disdain;
all pass by gates and bars and entrances with nothing serious to say.
Ah, perhaps I am the only one too melancholy,
for even at this busy hour think doth I, of such poetry.
Yet melancholy but real, for if I ever be dear to someone else,
then I decide that should I be, to myself, far dearer.
For I believe not tales another creature tells,
they can be lies, they can be unfairer.
Like a nutshell too hard for the very poor shell itself,
I do feel pity for him and his ignorant self.
Unlucky him, for I carest more for every puff of his breath,
no matter how eerie-and she, rejoices over
the bashful lapse, of his death.

My life hath crept so long on a broken wing
Through cells of madness, horror, and fear;
Fear that is brutal and insidious, though inviting
and lies that eyes cannot see nor ears hear;
My mood hath changed, at least at this time of year
As I'th stayed more about and dwelled mostly here
And my previous grief hath outgrown itself like a butterfly
Too I witnessed as It fluttered and flickered madly,
and at the very last moment, died silently 'midst its own fury;
All weeks long, I hath listened and learned tactfully more
Lessons that I hath never heard of, never before.

But still, hate I this severely clashing world;
too much torpor hath we all borne, and burning, virile hurt.
O down, down with laborious ambition and ******
Kiss this earth's silent layers and fold down our knees
Ah, darling, put down thy passion that makest thee Hell!
To all madness of thine thou should sayest, farewell-
Hesitate not, and leave thy curious, and agile state
Be honest and precise, be courteous and moderate.
Crush and demolish and burn all demonic hate
Thus instead cherish and welcome thy realistic fate.
Entertain thy love; with dozens and dozens of new, novelty!
Brush up thy pride, but leavest away, o, leavest away thy old vanity-
Ah, and profess thy love only to me, for it brings me delight
It returns my hope, and turns all my dissolutions to light.

And tease, tease me, and my frenetic, personal song
Though I but be a wounded thing-with a rancorous cry,
I am wretched and wretched, as thou hath hurt me all along
Sick, sick to the heart of this entire life, am I.
Many one hath preached my poor little heart down,
Neither any merriment is mine, 'mongst this serene county town.
My only friend is my oak-room bible, and its dear God
Who mockest frenetic riches rich at diamonds but poor at heart
With cries that rulest turning minds from each other apart;
and with wealth running away to selfishly savest their spoilt, cruel hearts-
o, how I am lucky-for I am destroyed, but not by my dear Lord;
I am healed and charmed by His generous frank words.

All seemest like a vague dream, but still a dear insight
For he, above all, taught me to see which one was right
I still miss him, and dearly hope that he canst somehow be my future poem
And together we shall fliest towards joy and escapest such unblessed doom;
His musical mouth is indeedst my song,
a song that I'th been singing intimately with, all along!
For this then shall I shall continue my pursuit,
with a grateful heart and so a considerate wit,
for I am sure now-that he is mine, and only mine,
and duly certain of these promising, though long, signs;
But now I feel my heart grow easier;
as it now embraces days in ways lovelier;
for I hath now awakened again, to a better mind,
so that everything is now to me just fine;
Still he bears all my love and intuitive goodwill,
yet how to waken my love, God knowest better still.
Olivia Kent Aug 2013
Hellenic days of poetry,
From a land of myth,
In legend dwelled the child of Zeus,
Head of the gods,
Zeus created ******* child in tryst with mortal chick,
Alcemene was the name,
Hera, wife of Zeus got angry at his infidelity,
Alcemene expected two, twin boys were on the way,
One baby conceived of Zeus the other was a mortal's son,
Hera had a consultation with Lithia, goddess of childbirth,
Hera twisted Lithia to prevent the childrens birth,
Alcemene's legs were cross locked to stop the birth ocuring,
Zeus declared in oath, child of house of Perseus born that night,
To become High King in place of heracless,.
Hera made Eurytheus, arrive too soon in premature immaturity,
Athena, half -sister of Heracles,
Protector of Gods, tricked Hera into nursing child,
Known as Alcides,
Real name Heracles,
Hera nursed him out of pity,
Heracles gave Hera pain on suckling,
Milk sprayed the heavens,
Hence there created, The Milky Way.
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Gangothrii Aug 2018
It’s an odd romance,
Yet it felt so right,
The charcoal that paints the pristine whites.
Like the scratches and scores across the flawless skin,
The smell of graphite sunk in her skirts,
A touch so rough, yet she yearns.

The creator smiled in delight,
The satisfaction shown in the depths,
From the soul the words formed,
Strung to a garland that met the lead.
The curves and lines the charcoal drew,
Made her quiver in pleasure and pain.

The creator dwelled in these sounds and sights,
Of the romance between his pen and paper.
Like water for a parched throat,
The words soothed many souls.
Write is all I love to do,
A delicious *******,
Between me, my book, and my pen.
How many chocolates did this person eat?
If the chocolate was made before the chocolate was eaten.
It melted away through the process of heating.
But, how could the chocolate melt if the chocolate was almost freezing?

Its exposure to the sunrise was apparent,
But, at what time did it leave before becoming disparate?
The time difference was dwelled in effect,
before the chocolate was seen in such repent.
  
Therefore, the state of the chocolate has been pronounced viable.
In the mouth of the person of which this question ultimately relies upon.
In the sense of being eaten once it was made,
while maintaining its sweet composure without heating or freezing away.
  
How many chocolates did this person indulge?
If in reality it was only made an hour before it was divulged!
Only this person could really say,
to relive this encounter one must divulge away.
  
While the mystery revolves around the chocolates dense state,
We must indulge in a chocolate now and allow this question to dissipate.
  
By: Michael M. De La Fuente
This poem was written as a response to a mindful observation of a chocolate covered strawberry.
Ryan Unger Mar 2012
What you are about to hear is an interesting story,
But it’s not about goals, feats, or glory.
It’s simply about a man named Ray,
Who discovered quite an unusual talent one day.

You see all his life Ray only ate meat,
He avoided fruits and veggies, and other healthy things to eat.
Until this one day, when Ray was in a bind,
When a bushel of grapes was the only food he could find.

Now he wasn’t a big fruit guy, but he didn’t care,
He felt was hungry as a grizzly bear.
He gobbled the grapes up, fast as could be,
And an hour later went to the bathroom to ***.

While in the bathroom, humming a song,
Ray noticed the color of his ***** was wrong.
It was purple! Not yellow! A strange sight indeed!
For this happened every time Ray ate grapes then peed.

His ***** smelt of red wine, purple and sweet,
So he bottled some up for himself to keep.
Later that night, it dwelled on Rays mind,
If he should taste his *****, to see if it truly was wine.

He poured himself a glass, and a large one at that,
Pulled up a chair, and there he sat,
He was nervous about what was to follow,
But he closed his eyes, took a sip, and swallowed.

And oh, what bliss! It was the best wine he ever tasted.
He promised himself “no more of my ***** will be wasted.”

He figured if he ate grape every day,
He bottle his ***, and make people pay,
for the most delicious wine that they’d ever buy,
It’s risky, he thought, but it’s worth a try.

Ray started his business door to door,
Letting folks sample the wine, and they always wanted more.
At first business was slow, but it picked up real fast,
And he was questioned by every neighbor he asked.

They told him they loved his wine, and they wanted more,
They wanted so much, Ray opened a store.
He sold all of his wine, to policemen and teachers,
He even sold a bottle to one of the preachers.

Business was great, until the month of July,
When a competing winery sent in a spy.
They wanted to steal his secret to success,
So people would say that their wine was the best.

So late one night, while the town was asleep.
The spies went to Ray’s home to sneak a peak.
They peered in his window, and what did they see?
They saw Ray alone, filling wine bottles with ***.

“Oh my god” they exclaimed, “we must tell the town,
The people will be furious, they’ll tear his store down!”

Well the spies were right, and the very next day,
The townspeople approached Ray’s store filled with rage.
“How dare you!” they shouted, and began to throw stones,
Poor Ray was left in his store all alone.

“Get out of our town, and never come back!”
And with that they burned his store til the wood was charred and black.
So Ray left town, quickly and sadly,
For his wine business had backfired very badly.
Is this the end of Ray? No way in hell,
Because he’s just arrived in your town, and he’s got some delicious wine to sell.
Hal Loyd Denton Apr 2013
You don’t want to read how I started to begin this piece I told my wife she laughed and said you surly don’t want to start it that way.

They just don’t get it they don’t have a bomb big enough to do us irreparable harm they are
Fighting deep ideals built on the bedrock of freedom that is conditional to the finest part found
In the human spirit you can ****** our bodies and **** but you only succeed in increasing our
Love for our way of life and that fuels the same motivation that has defeated such evil stupidity
That comes and goes in the earth and then it seeps back down to hell where it came from while
Truth gains more followers and flourishes you cannot crawl out of your damnable hole and long
Exert and defame something first you senseless deceived one who lives only in darkest
Ignorance takes the foolish steps of being already a spoiled creature that is barely alive due to
The poison you feed on regularly your appearance is of the living devastation and desperation
Yes that is a real plus who wouldn’t want to follow the message of one who portrays the dregs
Of life personified and then you spew words and actions that are nothing less than the totality
Of defeatism please come and be a slave to our beliefs and don’t worry tyrants will be provided
For you that will make sure you have not one moment of confidence in yourself to govern
Yourself everything you do will benefit a complete idiot and then you will be called onto call
Them great because you know how worthless you are please let me pull out from this dive from
The clouds of living death turn the plane back just for the joy release the canopy fly low over
The Greatest terrain and land the world has ever known it allowed men to step on the immortal
Stage of history and declare these words that are a part of our national DNA do you think you can
Separate us from their hope and meaning by human conceived cold blooded acts I have no doubt
You can come up with them but you are the same as trying to tear down a pure wall of steel with
A needle it only shines and gleams the brighter as these words below  
Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.
Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.
But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate -- we can not consecrate -- we can not hallow -- this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us -- that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain -- that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

Your efforts are like you moving the Rockies with a shovel we have collectively a many layered
Depositary of thoughts to speak of this I will insert my own written thoughts as an American I will leave the
Explanation at the top also we know we are not perfect but we are still the greatest experiment ever
Undertaken in human government it began from Greek and French origin but we perfected at least to the
Place it is now

Imposter

California has two places we would escape the hectic bay area Central Coast and Disney land. We were staying at a smaller hotel right by Disney we got to know the owners they were very down to earth. We were setting in the glassed in game room by the pool well the husband came in with nine business men from Japan they were talking about buying his hotel. This was back when everyone bashed Japan. The next morning my wife went to the pool I was thinking about those men did I want to bash them or go a different way. God gave this to me it came in a rush it was written in fifteen minutes it is patriotic and it deals with our great blessing that is wrapped in diversity


From where did the lie first spring
The face I show I don't even know
The truth does sting so to falsehood I cling.
Best to wear this disguise, continue with the faceless mass.
America proud land of liberty; too long it's been just a veneer.
Freedom you espouse, to have this you must clean prejudice from your house.
True greatness finally you will know, when it shines through all colors.
To do this you must rediscover the bedrock of your heritage.
Truly believe the words that say "We the people."
Words that shook the elements, only being surpassed at creations stage.
To long our apathy has been collaborating with our enemies no more.
This challenge is given to restore.
Opportunity's open door let us our energy out pour.
That freedoms passion soars, as in the past ******* it tore.
Land of light continue, Miss Liberty your lamp burning bright.


Last one I will share here in this piece


Fertile Ground


O thou great Jefferson in whom dwelled the fidelity of a nation of free men.
Thy secretes can be viewed as we watch you live and breathe the life of a grand Virginia planter
When one is a student of nature and observes its subtle lessons becomes its master and ally. The next
Step of going to lead men is reasonable when taken into count the natural gifts that were refined in
Quiet fields and hills in lengthy times of treasured solitude that is not to say there won’t be difficulties
But to a merchandiser of lofty thoughts this is of little consequence. There are issues that must be
Divined through the protracted business of hard arduous study. Man’s soul drifts in and out of the valley
And hills taking unconsciously truths that exist they are everywhere but can be buried in life’s clamor.
To purposely walk across a field with your with your senses open will usher you into a place quiet
Unsettling if you are one who is uneasy in your own thoughts because the vistas will allow your mind to
Extend it to the far reaches ordinary thoughts will jump over conventional restraints and give you
Profound insights Jefferson graduated from this school of higher learning for this very important time
This man of stature arose he flung freedom’s door wide open walked through set down at his desk and
Masterfully penned immortal words, to this day time hasn’t diminished any of their importance or there
Revered excellence this document would go unparalleled in type and execution, in forming the basis for
Human conduct it would forever alter the landscape that that had existed before its grand arrival.
The stinginess of former centuries were at long last over the mind had finally
Liberated the body the willingness to do for one’s self had taken the lead there was no
Turning back, these actions would recommend them as a people. Their credentials intact now they were
Ready for the world stage a new birth of nobility walked into the human condition and it wasn’t
In the least bit hesitant to speak thoughts that had long been silenced.
The trouble today stems from the lack of understanding we have about the truth,
Of what oppression would be unleashed if our form of government would be allowed to be dissolved we
Love the dream but deplore the reality. That this system will only work when we are involved. It has a
Built in detection device, you can’t use its rewards without paying it back with service.
The results will be contagious you will be left with a weak sickly government.
The remedy simple everyone has to be its central guardian.
This does not mean that it is weak this was the way it was created it is as strong as you
Are willing to have it know this it will always be dependent on human involvement.
We might not like it but we are making a choice freedom will be loosed or bound by our decision.
The product that we deal with is very supple and ever changeable it becomes whatever form you pour it
Into this is in accordance with its nature it also is a gauge of those that handle its virtues and shows if
You have had reverence or contempt. You will be left with honor or disgrace did you carry forth the gift
Or allow it to waver the children of the next generation are watching.


We are purist in thought and deed when we rally around the flag and the Constitution but sin is a reproach to any people or nation to right our path we must return to our fore fathers commitments to be faithful and true to God and man you don’t know me if you think I can’t go on but our one resource that is in short supply is time in this modern life so I will be considerate it is true that right will win so we will bury our loved ones and from it will only increase in strength and our country will continue to be the envy of the world
Senor Negativo Aug 2012
Spring blossoms gentle acceptance
Of vagaries of desperation
Like variegated autumnal leaves
From the core of the stone of floods
Undeclared truths
Affirmative requests

There is chaos as a whole
In the expanse of the unending.
Fear fades mystically.
Death and boredom leave your lungs ...
There. Exists
Justice and pleasure... .
.... thoughts of living, laugh in the face of Death.

all the thoughts of failures
Conglomerate and are cast away
Into a deep trench
the soothing currents lull
Sinking green verdure.
Embraced by the biosphere
And forming a reef,
Thereby even your failures succeed.

Even now your image is being painted on the dull white canvas of my love.

Violent storms may rend the world
scattering lesser unions,
There is endurance in our madness...

Laughter, the golden bird, with bejewelled feathers,
Leads to the oasis of truth, in this desert of deceit
Reciprocation of sensation
Every intention to remain

And the rapidly ascending choir of broken angels sing the song which massacres despair.

And the body I wish to settle
Caressed by the deepest dark of night
Birth of the morning
The genesis of pleasant daydreams
Calm, hope ...
..... And a sense of success
Blue morning justice cascades
With dispelled illusions, and realized wishes.
Everyday upon wakening
I discard hate
As love, is mildly colored supple flesh
Withdrawn and plunged, into the crack of a stoney heart

Space infinitum opens before us,
On the petals of the lotus
Space through which two beings connect
No matter the distance.

We know that beneath this dull white nightmare
Dwells a vibrant black dream,
That is neither evil or good,
But just is.

On the workbench of despair,
Disassembled hearts are heaped.
In this pile I dwelled for an age of pain,
Until you plucked me from the pile
And made me whole again.
THE PROLOGUE.

WHEN folk had laughed all at this nice case
Of Absolon and Hendy Nicholas,
Diverse folk diversely they said,
But for the more part they laugh'd and play'd;           *were diverted
And at this tale I saw no man him grieve,
But it were only Osewold the Reeve.
Because he was of carpenteres craft,
A little ire is in his hearte laft
;                               left
He gan to grudge
and blamed it a lite.              murmur *little.
"So the* I,"  quoth he, "full well could I him quite
   thrive match
With blearing
of a proude miller's eye,                    dimming
If that me list to speak of ribaldry.
But I am old; me list not play for age;
Grass time is done, my fodder is now forage.
This white top
writeth mine olde years;                           head
Mine heart is also moulded
as mine hairs;                 grown mouldy
And I do fare as doth an open-erse
;                         medlar
That ilke
fruit is ever longer werse,                             same
Till it be rotten *in mullok or in stre
.    on the ground or in straw
We olde men, I dread, so fare we;
Till we be rotten, can we not be ripe;
We hop* away, while that the world will pipe;                     dance
For in our will there sticketh aye a nail,
To have an hoary head and a green tail,
As hath a leek; for though our might be gone,
Our will desireth folly ever-in-one
:                       continually
For when we may not do, then will we speak,
Yet in our ashes cold does fire reek.
                         smoke
Four gledes
have we, which I shall devise
,         coals * describe
Vaunting, and lying, anger, covetise.                     *covetousness
These foure sparks belongen unto eld.
Our olde limbes well may be unweld
,                           unwieldy
But will shall never fail us, that is sooth.
And yet have I alway a coltes tooth,
As many a year as it is passed and gone
Since that my tap of life began to run;
For sickerly
, when I was born, anon                          certainly
Death drew the tap of life, and let it gon:
And ever since hath so the tap y-run,
Till that almost all empty is the tun.
The stream of life now droppeth on the chimb.
The silly tongue well may ring and chime
Of wretchedness, that passed is full yore
:                        long
With olde folk, save dotage, is no more.

When that our Host had heard this sermoning,
He gan to speak as lordly as a king,
And said; "To what amounteth all this wit?
What? shall we speak all day of holy writ?
The devil made a Reeve for to preach,
As of a souter
a shipman, or a leach.                    cobbler
Say forth thy tale, and tarry not the time:                
surgeon
Lo here is Deptford, and 'tis half past prime:
Lo Greenwich, where many a shrew is in.
It were high time thy tale to begin."

"Now, sirs," quoth then this Osewold the Reeve,
I pray you all that none of you do grieve,
Though I answer, and somewhat set his hove
,                  hood
For lawful is *force off with force to shove.
           to repel force
This drunken miller hath y-told us here                        by force

How that beguiled was a carpentere,
Paraventure* in scorn, for I am one:                            perhaps
And, by your leave, I shall him quite anon.
Right in his churlish termes will I speak,
I pray to God his necke might to-break.
He can well in mine eye see a stalk,
But in his own he cannot see a balk."

Notes to the Prologue to the Reeves Tale.

1. "With blearing of a proude miller's eye": dimming his eye;
playing off a joke on him.

2. "Me list not play for age": age takes away my zest for
drollery.

3. The medlar, the fruit of the mespilus tree, is only edible when
rotten.

4. Yet in our ashes cold does fire reek: "ev'n in our ashes live
their wonted fires."

5. A colt's tooth; a wanton humour, a relish for pleasure.

6. Chimb: The rim of a barrel where the staves project beyond
the head.

7. With olde folk, save dotage, is no more: Dotage is all that is
left them; that is, they can only dwell fondly, dote, on the past.

8. Souter: cobbler; Scottice, "sutor;"' from Latin, "suere," to
sew.

9. "Ex sutore medicus"  (a surgeon from a cobbler) and "ex
sutore nauclerus" (a  ****** or pilot from a cobbler) were both
proverbial expressions in the Middle Ages.

10. Half past prime: half-way between prime and tierce; about
half-past seven in the morning.

11. Set his hove; like "set their caps;" as in the description of
the Manciple in the Prologue, who "set their aller cap".  "Hove"
or "houfe," means "hood;" and the phrase signifies to be even
with, outwit.

12. The illustration of the mote and the beam, from Matthew.

THE TALE.

At Trompington, not far from Cantebrig,
                      Cambridge
There goes a brook, and over that a brig,
Upon the whiche brook there stands a mill:
And this is *very sooth
that I you tell.               complete truth
A miller was there dwelling many a day,
As any peacock he was proud and gay:
Pipen he could, and fish, and nettes bete,                     *prepare
And turne cups, and wrestle well, and shete
.                     shoot
Aye by his belt he bare a long pavade
,                         poniard
And of his sword full trenchant was the blade.
A jolly popper
bare he in his pouch;                            dagger
There was no man for peril durst him touch.
A Sheffield whittle
bare he in his hose.                   small knife
Round was his face, and camuse
was his nose.                  flat
As pilled
as an ape's was his skull.                     peeled, bald.
He was a market-beter
at the full.                             brawler
There durste no wight hand upon him legge
,                         lay
That he ne swore anon he should abegge
.             suffer the penalty

A thief he was, for sooth, of corn and meal,
And that a sly, and used well to steal.
His name was *hoten deinous Simekin
        called "Disdainful Simkin"
A wife he hadde, come of noble kin:
The parson of the town her father was.
With her he gave full many a pan of brass,
For that Simkin should in his blood ally.
She was y-foster'd in a nunnery:
For Simkin woulde no wife, as he said,
But she were well y-nourish'd, and a maid,
To saven his estate and yeomanry:
And she was proud, and pert as is a pie.                        magpie
A full fair sight it was to see them two;
On holy days before her would he go
With his tippet* y-bound about his head;                           hood
And she came after in a gite
of red,                          gown
And Simkin hadde hosen of the same.
There durste no wight call her aught but Dame:
None was so hardy, walking by that way,
That with her either durste *rage or play
,                use freedom
But if he would be slain by Simekin                            unless
With pavade, or with knife, or bodekin.
For jealous folk be per'lous evermo':
Algate
they would their wives wende so.           unless *so behave
And eke for she was somewhat smutterlich,                        *****
She was as dign* as water in a ditch,                             nasty
And all so full of hoker
, and bismare*.   *ill-nature *abusive speech
Her thoughte that a lady should her spare,        not judge her hardly
What for her kindred, and her nortelrie           *nurturing, education
That she had learned in the nunnery.

One daughter hadde they betwixt them two
Of twenty year, withouten any mo,
Saving a child that was of half year age,
In cradle it lay, and was a proper page.
                           boy
This wenche thick and well y-growen was,
With camuse
nose, and eyen gray as glass;                         flat
With buttocks broad, and breastes round and high;
But right fair was her hair, I will not lie.
The parson of the town, for she was fair,
In purpose was to make of her his heir
Both of his chattels and his messuage,
And *strange he made it
of her marriage.           he made it a matter
His purpose was for to bestow her high                    of difficulty

Into some worthy blood of ancestry.
For holy Church's good may be dispended                          spent
On holy Church's blood that is descended.
Therefore he would his holy blood honour
Though that he holy Churche should devour.

Great soken* hath this miller, out of doubt,    toll taken for grinding
With wheat and malt, of all the land about;
And namely
there was a great college                        especially
Men call the Soler Hall at Cantebrege,
There was their wheat and eke their malt y-ground.
And on a day it happed in a stound
,                           suddenly
Sick lay the manciple
of a malady,                         steward
Men *weened wisly
that he shoulde die.              thought certainly
For which this miller stole both meal and corn
An hundred times more than beforn.
For theretofore he stole but courteously,
But now he was a thief outrageously.
For which the warden chid and made fare,                          fuss
But thereof set the miller not a tare;           he cared not a rush
He crack'd his boast, and swore it was not so.            talked big

Then were there younge poore scholars two,
That dwelled in the hall of which I say;
Testif* they were, and ***** for to play;                headstrong
And only for their mirth and revelry
Upon the warden busily they cry,
To give them leave for but a *little stound
,               short time
To go to mill, and see their corn y-ground:
And hardily* they durste lay their neck,                         boldly
The miller should not steal them half a peck
Of corn by sleight, nor them by force bereave
                *take away
And at the last the warden give them leave:
John hight the one, and Alein hight the other,
Of one town were they born, that highte Strother,
Far in the North, I cannot tell you where.
This Alein he made ready all his gear,
And on a horse the sack he cast anon:
Forth went Alein the clerk, and also John,
With good sword and with buckler by their side.
John knew the way, him needed not no guide,
And at the mill the sack adown he lay'th.

Alein spake f
Pdub Oct 2014
I'm exceedingly afraid of the day-
I gaze into someone's eyes,
and see a new future entice,
where my reflection once dwelled.
For someone new, and dear.
Emilie L Feb 2010
The splendour of sunset in the far horizon
The wonder of mixing colours in a crimson
Your eyes were shining
My heart was glinting
Hugging tightly, your perfume I smelled
So innocent, so vivid, your world I dwelled
Waiting for some tenderness
Hoping for the endless
Nourishing the hope of seeing you
With the sky above you, so blue
Yet no words, not even a smile
You averted my eyes for a while
Your coldness chilled my zeal
Though my love for you was real
An unrequited passion
A depressing emotion
You took away my dreams
Nothing's no longer what it seems
Goodbye is all I can say
With the hope to see you later; one day...

-18/03/07
© eMs' silent poetry. All Rights Reserved.
Desmond the poet Aug 2018
Those you haven’t victimized fear you.
Mighty and dreadful you seem.
Little do they know, you only seize flesh and control the mind.
You seize not the soul.
Hence be not proud.

You’ve dwelled in me for many years.
Imprisoned me to anti-epileptic drugs.
You’ve dispirited me.
You attack, seize, and control my mind.
Your attacks are but brief.

Epilepsy be not proud.
For I fear not what rescind only flesh.
I fear what abolish both soul and flesh.
Proportional to gravitational force I fell.
I’ve always find the forte to rise.

Epilepsy be not proud.
For against all odds, I’m still alive.
https://m.facebook.com/EpilepsyandCpfriends
This poem to show that for as much as I've been epileptic for 32 years I'm still alive because Epilepsy has not managed to **** me.
Hal Loyd Denton Oct 2012
For the election Abe Lincoln said we should read such things as these

O thou great Jefferson in whom dwelled the fidelity of a nation of free men.
Thy secretes can be viewed as we watch you live and breathe the life of a grand Virginia planter
When one is a student of nature and observes its subtle lessons becomes its master and ally. The next
Step of going to lead men is reasonable when taken into count the natural gifts that were refined in
Quiet fields and hills in lengthy times of treasured solitude that is not to say there won’t be difficulties
But to a merchandiser of lofty thoughts this is of little consequence. There are issues that must be
Divined through the protracted business of hard arduous study. Man’s soul drifts in and out of the valley
And hills taking unconsciously truths that exist they are everywhere but can be buried in life’s clamor.
To purposely walk across a field with your with your senses open will usher you into a place quiet
Unsettling if you are one who is uneasy in your own thoughts because the vistas will allow your mind to
Extend it to the far reaches ordinary thoughts will jump over conventional restraints and give you
Profound insights Jefferson graduated from this school of higher learning for this very important time
This man of stature arose he flung freedom’s door wide open walked through set down at his desk and
Masterfully penned immortal words, to this day time hasn’t diminished any of their importance or there
Revered excellence this document would go unparalleled in type and execution, in forming the basis for
Human conduct it would forever alter the landscape that that had existed before its grand arrival.
The stinginess of former centuries were at long last over the mind had finally
Liberated the body the willingness to do for one’s self had taken the lead there was no
Turning back, these actions would recommend them as a people. Their credentials intact now they were
Ready for the world stage a new birth of nobility walked into the human condition and it wasn’t
In the least bit hesitant to speak thoughts that had long been silenced.
The trouble today stems from the lack of understanding we have about the truth,
Of what oppression would be unleashed if our form of government would be allowed to be dissolved we
Love the dream but deplore the reality. That this system will only work when we are involved. It has a
Built in detection device, you can’t use its rewards without paying it back with service.
The results will be contagious you will be left with a weak sickly government.
The remedy simple everyone has to be its central guardian.
This does not mean that it is weak this was the way it was created it is as strong as you
Are willing to have it know this it will always be dependent on human involvement.
We might not like it but we are making a choice freedom will be loosed or bound by our decision.
The product that we deal with is very supple and ever changeable it becomes whatever form you pour it
Into this is in accordance with its nature it also is a gauge of those that handle its virtues and shows if
You have had reverence or contempt. You will be left with honor or disgrace did you carry forth the gift
Or allow it to waver the children of the next generation are watching.

Streaks of Jefferson

In freedom’s blessed glorified sky through streaks of immortal gold his visage we behold
He looks upon the fields of liberty that he and the founding fathers sowed he sees the
Richness America has become he also beheld her struggles catastrophic wars abroad
And the most painful the one that divided the nation marred it with southern and northern
Blood saw the affable the sad giant Lincoln take the reins of discontent hold them by
Shear will and with uncommon sagacity guided it back in line to fulfill its destiny as the
Powerful fount that would always pour forth waters of freedom for all of earths peoples
Total unconditional acceptance of liberty and all the fruit it bears to establish a
Government like no other this golden grain has waved under bluest skies and brightest
Sun light its rich harvest has gone to darkest prison cells Mandela was sustained by it
For twenty nine years and by its moral purity it fed the lives of those that over threw
Apartied and Mandela finally freed by principals it avows rose from prison clothes
To wear the mantle of president of his country and the honor of the man instilled
Quality that transcended political office Jefferson not to be disrespectful to his progeny
Whispers today’s politicians could do well to look on this African model of good
Stewardship of public trust with that Jefferson faded back into the mist pray that’s
Not the fate of this country

Most hated twins

Who are these two desperate characters revered but feared by all
To make their acutance few will volunteer those who know them well
All can tell by the drawn face and the tears that swell the pool where wisdom has her rule
Achievers welcome them as honored guest they withstood the test now they the richest blest
At mornings first blade of light they strike with all their might they the quickest to fight
Timorous to afraid how many have dwelt by waters undying well only to die unfulfilled
But others tried and they fell the well is to deep its where darkest shadows creep
We will be lost in these new surroundings the familiar there will be water there too
Yes stagnant unmoved guarded for naught its benefit was for the traveler going places
For you it will be your grave marker he talked and talked but venture on never
He said he was the clever one as his countenance slowly turned to stone killed by apathy
Green pastures call to find them in yourself health you will install
Few are they that were meant and born to reside in the same place you must go
If you stay rebuild the common and ordinary your monument then they will admire
Who stood to long and with all intention he gave it only words action was the wonder that was missing
Treading a narrow path in the end if you buried or squandered your talent divine wrath you will face
Cast your seed far and wide how can you not see the need sorrow has them tied
Push back the encircling darkness with the light in your heart that God did endow
Go and answer the door your guides are here I want you to meet two friends Pain and Adversity
Two finer companions you will never know Washington and his men befriended them at Valley Forge Concord, York town. Lincoln met them first at Bull Run Antietam I think he gave a little speech at Gettysburg. One birthed a nation the other saved a divided one.
Neath Oct 2014
There’s a little wooden house on the corner with a beautiful garden in the front.

It always ropes in the attention of the whole town when spring comes along.

The main attraction is a garden in the front with a small batch of roses.

These roses are beautiful with different shades of red coloring the vivid green bush it’s sprouting from.

But there’s one small purple rose amongst a bed of red, just a bit off to the right.

No one pays attention to this purple rose because of  all the other red ones.

The purple rose is fragile and beautiful looking with frail looking petals making it unnoticed.

The lady that owns the little wooden house allows you to pick the roses just as long as you don’t hurt yourselves from the thorns.

No one dares pick the purple rose cause of the rigid and thorned spine it has.

I have a go at the chance to pick the purple rose. I reach out my arm as I grabbed the thorny spine of the rose.

Holding the spine with the fullness of palm, my hand sprouting out with the blood of countless mistakes and regrets.

But this, this was never a mistake that has ever been. It was an accomplishment that no one has ever dwelled upon.

My hand hurts with the blood coursing from the center of my palm running all the way down to my elbow.

Tears start to arise on the horizon of my eyes and a small crooked smile starts to wry on the side of my face.

I am happy, and filled with joyous emotions, emotions that I can never ever fathom of experiencing.

The magnificent purple looking rose resting in the palm of my blood encrusted hand.

**“Her favorite color is purple…”
I did it for her...
It was only days ago
In a time of a better me
The strangers lived here, sometime ago
They dwelled inside of me

I was young, and lived rather grand
In the skin that was me
Oh what times we had, them and I, I and them

I and the people inside of me
With our thoughts ever conflicting,
None were covetous of we

Maybe it's been years, not days ago
These people inside of me
Had only first appeared
Without my sanity
So they bound me with ropes,
Those people inside of me
My own body and mind my sepulchre
No longer are we who I used to be.
This was an english project. I tried to do one of my favorite poems justice!
-Instead of a story about a love lost, I put a twist to the famous "Annabel Lee". The story is of a man, who goes through a trauma and because of it, develops multiple personality disorder, who slowly recognizes what's happening and gives in, letting himself be entombed.
He truly loved the purple sun, descending from the hills,
The ways through the woods, the singing blackbird
And the joys of green.

Sombre was his dwelling in the shadows of the tree
And his face undefiled.
God, a tender flame, spoke to his heart:
Oh son of man!

Silently his step turned to the city in the evening;
A mysterious complaint fell from his lips:
“I shall become a horseman.”

But bush and beast did follow his ways
To the pale people’s house and garden at dusk,
And his murderer sought after him.

Spring and summer and – oh so beautiful – the fall
Of the righteous. His silent steps
Passed by the dark rooms of the dreamers.

At night he and his star dwelled alone.
He saw the snow fall on bare branches
And in the murky doorway the assassin’s shadow.
Silvern sank the unborne’s head.
Francie Lynch Mar 2014
Zero One and modern blight
Travel at the speed of light.

We wondered on the Wandering Jew,
Or, in lieu,
Orthon, Urian or Lilitu.

We trepanned our empty skulls,
Searched our humours,
Were touched by Rulers!

Now troubling symptoms of want and need,
Have blighted growth of yesterseed.

Patient Zero left no lead.

East fingered West
(and vice versa)
Was Ireland really the cause of cholera?
Did Blacks languish in Tuskegee squalor?
We christened Mary, but drank the water.
Fracked Incubus and Succubus
From son and daughter.

Patient Zero left the slaughter.

We deprived women of their tea
To cure wandering womb hysteriae.
Deviances and leaking lesions
Were headwaters of women's *****.

Patient Zero has no season.

The barber sensed it might be smell,
So our widened streets became a sulfurous hell.
And wastelands swelled
Where curled cats dwelled.
(no talk of Michelangelo)

                                         II

Our children's blight has a techno name,
Like the rose, IT smells the same.
With zero tolerance I lay blame
On screens and phones and video games.

The world wide box stores flipped their lids,
Touching all who crawl the social grids;
From the base of Mammon's pyramid.

Now Jake believes he's a gangsta dude
Since posting whatever on You Tube.
Nothing to gain, nothing to lose:
No services rendered but expects what's due.

Inflated egos are a system symptom,
Clearing firewalls, reaching children.

Patient Zero is no phantom.

There is no tale of rat or flea
As cause of lost immunity.
There is no open sore to fester,
The Selfie is the X-ray picture.

Patient Zero is so much quicker.

In our gel of techno bliss,
On our elliptic petrie dish,
Bathed in more than we could wish,
Patient Zero will finish,
And with that whimper
All vanish.
I heard the rushing wind in the calmest air
Loudly whispering
Unemotional words spoken through many tears
Flying freely
With no wings

The present time became bygone
Dedicatedly detached
A light of darkness lit up bright shadows
Well suited
In mismatch

Opposing allies fought for hostile peace
Calling light the same
Agitation dwelled in tranquility
All their calmness
Spoke disclaim

Harmony was found within a tempest
Coordinated discord
The rushing wind screamed out quietly
Time as they knew it
Was no more
Copyright *Neva Flores @2010
www.changefulstorm.blogspot.com
www.stumbleupon.com/stumbler/Changefulstorm
One: The Gathering

Lo, on a field of green
Came a few warriors
Tired from endless battle
Of killing in senseless need
So together they thus decided
Something new must arise

A scattering of small huts
Were slowly built by these
A wall erected to protect
As something new was born
Once brave men, now farmers
Near the forgotten oceans

More came to this gathering
Begging entrance to be inside
For naught was sought but peace
A name was needed for here
As something born of the future
Everyone wanted to be in Atlantis

Two: Brothers

The wall kept those away
Attempting to invade inside
But security was stronger
As peace dwelled within
Foundations of an army
Protecting Atlantis from harm

Two brothers slowly plotted
How could there be peace
If no one wanted to rule?
They decided to take control
To overthrow those in council
Wanting to have power themselves

As with those who want
Both brothers plotted
Secretly against each other
Gaining two sets of followers
Deciding each was the best
To have order of Atlantis

One night two huts were ablaze
Two bodies found in the flames
For both brothers were dead
Greed had been their downfall
Once again thoughts were gone
But the seeds of betrayal were sown

Three: Fated Love

She was a warrior's daughter
But he was a farmer's son
Fell in love and secret trysts
On the cliff tops where nobody came
There it was where love came true

For she was promised to another
To an older warrior she belonged
Only she wished to follow her soul
But she knew they would slay him
Or cast him and his family out

Each night they made love
Under the moon and stars
Ignoring those unsafe rocks
For they only saw their hearts
They would be together, forever

But hidden caves lay beneath
The ground opened up under them
Both plunged down to their deaths
Until a search was made to find them
A discovery of the caves under Atlantis

Four: The Caves

Miles of rope were used
With flaming torches
For those brave to explore
The mysteries of the caves
Of the treasures they had

Strange encrusted gems
Found embedded in the walls
Mined and brought to the surface
Where the wealth of Atlantis
Became a legend to behold

These caves were too valuable
Outside forces would come
For years they crafted below
While warlords battled above
There would come the first king

As a city was created underground
A war council was born to defend
Never to see the slendours
That only a select few would see
But it would take a century

Three kings would come to rule
As the city in the caves took shape
Where wondows watched the ocean
A stairway of gold led down
The city of Atlantis was born

Copyright Chris Smith 2013
2013
Keith W Fletcher Jan 2016
All the blood was gone
As I had stood here ..knees locked
For no telling how long..
... About 40 years since  I had walked
Through the blanket on the doorway hung
That turned out to be a time machine portal
And here I thought it was just to help hold in heat
Silly me . RECOGNIZE . GOD  just touched a mortal
Just before entering here I was asking myself why
Why why why to a question I knew I hadn't a clue
AND NEVER WOULD! . So..why did I keep asking .?
I even knew That I knew
As I rushed down the hall and up the stairs
Across the landing and down the long cold hall
The redundancy of "WHY DID YOU DO THAT..WHY?"
All the way to that blanket and then into the warmth
As I stepped in and all the way back ....40 years.

I wasn't aware until suddenly I was standing there
Knowing I just got back but unaware that I had been gone
And in surrealistic repose was my half closed flip phone
Draped over my open left palm like a sea sick sailor
On unsteady legs asleep below the knees
I managed the  two steps distance -to my easy chair
Where I found the right levers to slowly ease
My cold, stiff and diminished mortal core
Down to where I might be able to gather myself
That was scattered all about
But first I had to close the flip phone
       That I had opened back in early September 1974

The television was playing right in front of me
But I never heard nor did I see
The fireplace was waining ----it's heat replaced by cold
I dragged a blanket over myself which I didn't even unfold
The day that existed outside the window
Scurried off
Stealing away with the light
As if it were checking to see if I'd even notice
How quickly the hands of the clock
Had painted in the night
I never even noticed --really .. I wasn't even there

I was sitting in my car in the grocery store parking lot
Watching strangers roll by as they cruised the strip
In a small town where I now lived for maybe two weeks
I was 17 a  longhaired city boy but if I was on anyones radar
     So far.... I hadn't made a single blip
One night as I sat  there
  A faded camaro
That had to be the ugliest green I ever seen
Rolled in to park behind my car
Quickly flanked by two more -
One at each door
I could see them in the mirror
I could hear the raucous laughter
This was what I had been sitting here for
What was missing that I was after
But .... I was as shy as I could be back then
Not the kind who could get out and just push right in
And then ......serendipity walked in
A cop car rolled past on the strip
And the wildhaired guy in the camaro just let it rip
Beep beep BEEEEEEEEEEP BEBEBEBEBEEEEP
WENT his horn and the cop whirled to turn in
Lost in the shadow of the grocery store he parked
As he emerged from the shadows I saw 5 ft 8 250 lbs.
And believe me now as  I give you my word
He demanded to know who was honking
Standing there 15 ft away
"I was piggy " yelled the guy in the camaro
I could not believe what I just heard ........or what I heard next
" Well cut it out Don" and into the shadow he disappeared
Then the camaro said "Beep!"
O. M. G   this guys going to jail.
The cop and him argued
The other guys split
I got out to watch from the trunk where I decided to sit
Before he went to the cop car
Cigarette in his lips
Encased in the most amazing grin he asked me
"Hey man ...you got a match?"
I didn't and said I was sorry and they disappeared in shadow
Oh well I thought as I sat watching them get in the car
Illumination of dashlights allowed a set of silhouettes
And I could tell --what the hell-
He was actually lighting up with the dash lighter
Then  he replaced it and in straightening back up
He dragged his fingers across every switch he could manage
And the shadows came alive
With flashing lights, bells and whistles
The cop went spastic shutting it down --2 minutes went by
Then the door opened and out stepped the guy
The car drove away as the wildhaired maniac
Walked over to me fiollowing the lit cigarette and that crazy grin
"That was pretty funny wasn't it dude?"  I probably agreed
That grin was infectious as we talked a bit  
I'm keith _ I'm Don
Then he said "Hey !  You got a joint"
"No I don't "I had to reluctantly admit" And the grin sorta drooped
"But I think I know where we can get one"
From that point on and forever no matter how far apart we were
This guy Don became my best and  truly thick and thin friend
In that 4 month span
I met another person in that town who changed my life
His name was Tom and he was 82 yr old and totally blind
In fact he had gotten his eyes kicked out by a mule at 17
He wore no dark glasses just open holes in his head  
But he was so cool that I just didn't mind
He would drop into the upholstery shop owned by my older brother
And tell whopping tales of one kind or another
About hunting alone and bringing back game
Roofing his house at night because it was cooler
Able to tell color by just a touch but I didn't ever mind
I came to love the spirit that dwelled in that old man
My brother built him a loom in the back to Tom specifications
And he wove shawls on it from skeins of different colored yarn
Then other towns people dropping in would see old Tom
And tell the same stories he told and it wasn't long
For my sister -in- law, my brother and especially me
TO REALIZE
That any doubts we had about him
were absolutely wrong
THEN
He walked in and ran his hand over a large red velvet couch
Saying oh ain't that a pretty red I stayed silent my brother said
" Now Tom . you've heard us talking about this couch color"
Not mad but in a weary kinda way Tom said " No! I can tell"
So I had to know ...had to . I got two velvet scraps 1gold 1aqua
Here what color as he took the gold -quick feel "thats yeller
   What the......!
Before handing him the aqua I detemined I would lie whatever
He took the piece ..felt for a few seconds and hesitantly said blue
"Nope" I said but !....then Tom felt some more and more and said
"    weeeeeeel its green " his hesitancy and 2 color choices had me freaked
But I said "nope"  and that old man
Right then ....changed my life
From that second to now he effects every fiber of my being
He threw his open holed  black orbless socket to within an inch
  An inch of mine--- square on -- so quick I was stunned
..........An absolute quote here.........
  " WELL its blue green then durn it"  for me this was an epiphony
Don't doubt people so quick  Don't let anything stop you from believing  it can be possible  Always accept that it can be amazing And try to pass this hope on
So I've always tried
    The crazy guy in the ugly green camaro became my friend
We became collaborators with his amazing ear and guitar skills
Over the years he had many vehicles almost always ugly green
So That morning of December 23rd  2012
A bitter wind blowing from the north at about 25 mph and 10 ° f
I Went from the little room I was hibernating in
The only heated room in the old house
It was upstairs facing the dirt road
I had hung a string of Christmas lights inside that north facing view
In hopes of cheering me up after a REALLY bad year of loss
Divorce, bitter battle and more trouble and pain than I like to recall
So when I got up and went out that blanket hung to keep in heat
Took the dogs down the long cold hall down the cold stairwell
And all the way to the mud room wishing I had gotten dressed
I was in flimsy pajamas and floppy houseshoes
At least grabbed a jacket especially once I opened the door
I started out before I felt that wind so I let the dogs have it
I would wait inside the door and as I stood there I saw a bag
A white garbage bag with a bit of green wreath sticking out
I had had it for years never hung it
Probably saw it every time I  entered
So thats where the unanswerable question started
I do not know why
I dug up a hammer a few nails went out the door
I don't know why
Walked a hundred feet out to a field
Got my freezing ice - coated aluminium extension ladder
And carried it back to the house
I DONT KNOW WHY
I don't know why I didn't give up when it took so long
To get the dam thing to separate
Or when ...
I smashed my frozen fingers in the process
But I climbed 14 feet in the air on that north wall
I drove a nail above the window
And I hung that
Red holly berry  adorned
Green plastic wreath
Climbed down and took the ladder back  (really)
And then me and the dogs headed up to the warmth
With me asking maybe even out loud " why why why why"
All the way into the room  
And as I passed through the curtain
At 10:00 That Sunday morning  I saw the flip phone flashing
I had missed a call from Don  gonna wish me an early
Merry Christmas
So I'm sure I was smiling as I hit redial
It was his girlfriend Tammy
Hey Tammy how are you
She said "Don just died in the hospital 5 minutes ago"

The room was cold as the late shadows of a winter day
Were muting the view through the window
As I closed up the flip phone on 1974
And managed to sit down  

Late that night as I still sat there
I had a fire going now
I had managed to eat
And I was thinking of past times
The time he drove down to Texas to get married
He came back and I asked  How you like Texas
And he replied "it ****** man . I can't drive down there"
Why ?
"Cause man they got stop lights running sideways
- not up and down so I couldn't tell what to do.

Then I knew without a single doubt
WHY ?
And I did get an answer to the question after all
And just like the old man Tom and the red and green
Because any doubt I've ever had Ever Ever Ever had
About God and heaven or any version of something more...?
Evaporated forever
Don drove ugly green cars because he was colorblind
He couldn't see red and green in the "normal"sense
And that green he said was the PRETTIEST RED HE EVER SEEN"
So on his way by he stopped in with that stupid infectuos grin
And shielded me from the wind
While that sum b made me hang that dang wreath
And changed my life one more time.
      
       I love you dude and you too Tom  (Hey Tom .   is this what you imagined I looked like?)
Selena Irulan Dec 2013
My mind never sleeps my thoughts defeat me.
I just need some sleep.
my head spinning round and
round like a merry go round.
how do you sleep with a broken heart when
the one you want is so far gone?
Thoughts control my emotions leaving
me open. My mind is effortless it
leaves my breathless. its amazing how our
hearts and minds work.
A wonderful creation of art graven.
We all have the same functions
but different conjunctions.
When the mind never sleeps
the soul slowly departs the body
leaving an empty shell where once a
person dwelled.
Sometimes i feel like my life is a dream.
At 3 am i'm tossing and turning laying
restlessly..
Hoping one day i'll finally wake up and be stress free.
Aisha Zahrah Dec 2013
And now emerges white bits of sunshine;
Eyes urged to wake, and tongues to pray;
To Lord of the worlds and of nights and days;
That we be pure in the heart and mind;

Feet saileth lower amongst one another;
With such admiration that lasts forever;
Faithful heads bow and touch the pious floor;
Pearls of rewards doubling behind the door.

And His beauty is deeper than solace;
More luminous than desire and grace;
He asks for love, chastity, and firm abstinence;
He longs for faith, modesty, and true penitence.

Praises and glory are floated to Allah;
Mouths recite and phrase la ilaha illallah.
And claim their very peace upon beloved Muhammad;
With dear respect from the deepest roots of hearts.

Winds might blow and grass might be green;
But we fear still, the restless Might of the Unseen;
He who watches and renders all our affairs;
He who breathes our blood and strands of our hair;

And do fear Him and seek His Abode;
For we shall cease and retreat to our Lord;
As this earth fades, where His end starts therefrom;
And sees our deeds since we dwelled in mothers' wombs;

But Allah is ever fair, filial, and loving;
He is the Keenest, and the Most Heroic king;
He rules perfectly the East and the West;
He listens to what flows within every chest;

And He is All-Forgiving and ever Merciful;
He is swift to both the living and the dead;
He relieves tears of the believing souls;
He lives and sparks, within our very breath.

And He is but ecstatic like the rainbow;
Nothing is more countable than His tomorrow;
His Warm Hands are what we all rush for;
His Words are a poem, like never before.
Sequoia C Jan 2010
I stroll up to the flashes of lightning
the rain pounding on my face
the thunder roaring in the sky
and laugh in his face.  

"You cannot scare me!
With your loud roars
that arouse the Earth,
makes her tremble and quake
and your bright flashes of light,
those sparks of electric air!  
You cannot strike me!
Bolts of lightning, bah!
You don't scare me."  

And the lightning replied,
"Do you think that is my goal?
Do you think I spend my time
wishing fear upon others? 
It is no problem of mine
that plenty of easily frightened children
hide beneath their bedsheets
of childish lace and frills
at the mere mention of me.  

It is no problem of mine
that mans best friend
cowers beneath table tops
tail tucked between his legs
feeling only submission and fear
at the mere sound of me.  

No, fearless man,
that was never my plan.
I am not trying to scare you!
I am a part of this storm,
blown in from distant lands
by the whims of divine hands.

And if you should happen
upon my path,
I will strike you down
with this godly power.  
No, as long as you stay
out of my way,
you need not fear me."  

"But how will I stay
out of your way,
if I cannot tell
where next you will be?"   

"Your guess
is as good
as mine."
And the lightning
thundered upon his way,
striking where he may,
and I went home
where I dwelled alone,
and hid in my bed.  

But I feared not the lightning, no.
What I feared
was the very nature
of nature itself;
that which I (a mere man)
could not control –
unpredictability.
Hypnotizing Swirl*

The last time I saw you, my mind was an intensified and frigid blast from the polarized north.
I held onto your body and our breath emitted a spiritual corona which enveloped us in love.
We dwelled within a single abode intertwining our illuminated vessels.
Within this shrine resides the sacred enamorment that placed me in a trance…
-A hypnotizing swirl.-
Spirited away, in this moment, I moon the time away awaiting the evolution, the bloom, the metamorphosis, the efflorescence of your quintessence.
Like a delicate orchid of the brightest evergreen stem.
An exuberant and illustrious flower, a symbol of our love, it has intertwined our beings with the seeds of rejuvenation sown into our souls.
Today when I see you, like a broken record in my mind, I am detached.
I am a juggernaut, a sentinel who guards *sanity within the confines of an indomitable fortress.
My dream has been nurtured in a pink dreamer’s chest; my treasure is a myriad of aromatic petals sealed away.
Upon this parcel, the benediction of amor has been bestowed.
Moonbeams and iridescent butterflies dwindle upon its rosy and stout exterior.
The Universe’s tears glimmer upon the castle walls housing my fantasy, my tenuous and ethereal hope bound to break at any moment.
-An epiphany can change things you know.-
“How do I know that my beseeching cries shall reach the Transcendental in the Realm of the Tenuous and Divine?”
-Only faith and virtue can allow me to reach the pinnacle of my desires-







To a Shattered and Reassembled Dream.

By, Sanders Maurice Foulke III
Mitch Nihilist Nov 2016
what does the man behind his desk
at the publishing company deem
worthy of publishing and
how much are his shoes?
I wonder if my words
will entice him enough to begin smoking,
or quit smoking,
or have a drink,
maybe sign a contract
or rather have me one,
will he turn off his Bach  
to understand or
turn up his Bach to understand?
will he analyze my grammar,
or the need of post secondary?
I wonder if he will bring forth
his obsession of
having a finger in his ***
to his wife after reading the erotics,
or will he put a finger in his ***,
will I be read in a
reader’s digest in 25 years
while a man of elder
near ***** his pants,
or will I be dwelled as an elder,
and I bet you they’re over
200 bucks.                                   MJB
sorry for the vulgarity
tdf Apr 2014
His lips spoke a thousand lies, but his hands held, what once dwelled inside.
Hands that reached so far into the oblivion, valleys of scars stretch along the inner flesh of his arms.
Hands like his fathers because he didn't know them, especially when they were tightening around another's neck.
Hands that bruised then bandaged, then bruised again when they were pulled off like a new band-aid.
Hands like a broken home that could only be whole again clasped in the hands of another, or on the body of a lover.
Hands that left fingerprints on my thighs, my heart, my mind.
So I will never forget where he once dwelled inside.
Venus Rose Vibes May 2013
Thomas John stepped as quietly as he could over the dried leaves,
cautious not to make a sound as they crinkled beneath his feet.
A man lost within an oak forest
had a quiver in his knees
for he knew there was a presence that dwelled
his eyes had not yet seen.
Traversing through haunted hallows
he turned back into a child,
a slightly built boy
facing fears his mother would shallow.

My dearest Thomas,
All will fare well,
and if you are filled with good then
you will steer clear of Hell.

Where are the beneficiaries now
that you are walking the path of whispering fairies,
maniacal minuscule beings
fore bearing legions of terror.
Darkened leagues above seas
lurk between branches and bristles of trees
harboring demons
within their wooden beams.
The weather is deemed as nothing
for the Sun attempts to reach
the darkened green
but the foliage will not let it in.
Thomas quests for an exit
only to be led further into caves of deception
pretending to be roads,
cells repelling as nematodes
burrowing ghouls inside of his soul.
A prominent light shines
from behind less wretched tangles
as does the breeze,
a faint faith lifts him from a sure defeat.. But visions are not meant to be believed
when they are birthed
from devilish dreams.

My son,
The brightness that you have viewed
is but a small token to you
amongst the gifts I shall douse you with
if you will fulfill my request.
My favors are without concern
and with your reliance in return, 
you could find yourself out of the dense
in no time at all.

He wonders,
maybe the lamb is at fault
and the goat is to whom I should pray.
I mean, I left my life in shambles
and even now it is in array.
The blackened moss
has become comforting,
I now prefer heavier shades of grey.
My insides can not mean much
if my corpse is here to stay.

My name is Thomas John;
My father a mistake,
my mother a drunk.
Every decision I have ever made is frowned upon
but not this one.
I will sell myself for a worthless win,  
dip into a world of sin
unknowing of what will begin
once my head is to the brim.

A fire started at his fingertips,
any nature he touched lit
into auburn flames
torturing their creator
into trembling remittance
for the soldiers lay hidden.
Hercules is now a peasant,
the innocence of Jesus
conformed to malevolence
and what was sanctioned as reality
is now told to be worthy of repent,
since it was not given wihout grant.
Global currents circulate glaciers,
chilling the air,
recreating the ambiance
of the raised hair on his arms and neck.
Canopies of wicked in the same cage
as the monoxides he breathes.
There is another trapped inside of your region
but she is not worthy,
skin her while she screams for forgiveness
and wield her into your trophy.
Thomas did as he was told
in quite a scurry,
finally feeling the dank presence
that he had been carrying.

I can not continue to do this;
questioning what to do with
the horror of that which would
surely persist,
his ears picked up currents
of pulsating blood
coursing through his wrists.
A curse bled behind pale skin, acknowledging the weight within
he buried his face into the mud
forcing the devil to choke
on his own blood.
Frank Ruland Oct 2015
Well, where has my Angel gone
Heaven said, "You don't belong!"
Yet, here I thought
those righteous ****** were all wrong!

To Hell with it
(Died, crying)
To Hell with it
(Pain)
To Hell with it
(Died, trying)

The Devil dwelled in the details;
now it's plain to see
this heresy

Godless and grotesque--
see these scars upon my heart

To Hell with it
(Died, prying)
To Hell with it
(Truth)
To Hell with it
(Died, sighing)
To Hell with it

The Devil dwelled in the details;
now it's plain to see

Though, I still yearn
Though, I still churn
And I still dream
of Heaven, again...


Burning; consumed, with rage
Burning; consumed, with rage

But, within my hole, I see hope
In this hole...
I can still feel hope

*Is there love?
Is there love?
Is there love?
Is there love?
Is there love?
Is there love?
Is there love?
Is there love...
I love "My Curse" with a passion. I finally broke down and did a song to the tune of it.
\m/>.<\m/ if you're a KE fan!
Yue Wang Yitkbel Jul 2018
I have not known love
Not known the stars
The moon and the sun
And warmth and all the
Petals that blossomed inside
Every particle of my heart
I had barely known words
And I had barely known the dark

I dwelled within the dreamless
Sinking into the abyss
Dragged down by merciless
Invisible hands of fear
Senseless guilty, and
The threat of life
That clutched my throat
And crushed my being
With an abundance of
Things that are not mine
In a bet against an abundance  
Of unfulfilled desires
I was suffocating
At the fringe of madness
And pleaded for a fall
Of complete non-existence
To be forgotten
To be lost
Till I can no longer remember
Myself, till I was never here at all
Till there was no life, breath, and
Darkness

Until the spark
The flash of dim light
That flickered in an instance
Across your eyes
Like a passing shadow
Like a spectre at the edge of our sight
Like the illusion of time
And the warmth a dream brings
I cannot no longer be certain
That it was ever there
But, it was the wildfire
That lit up the barren of my soul
And led me out of the cave
And showed me a world within me
That I had wished to known
But had always been so far away

I saw stars within the milk and honey
With, or without, the night and day
I saw tears in every raindrop fallen
With, or without, endless fields or ocean waves
I saw life within your presence
With, or without, the beginning or end of being
I saw darkness within your absence
With, or without, a maelstrom, or life’s grace

As long as you were there
I was no longer the bitter
Adversary to living
But the greatest friend of life

With you
Time only meant waiting
Eons for a second of your smile

With you
Space only meant coexisting
A second with you for moons of your warmth

Yet, there was not one second
I was not aware that the darkness
The emptiness, the silence
The shadow of your future
Was trailing behind me
Getting closer and closer
Waiting to push me back down the
Bottomless pit of loss
Till I am not just as wretched as before
But completely shattered and extinguished
By the lack of your light

I tried to get to you
Before the abyss got to me
But the desperation of my fear
Frightened you away completely

Like the child and the fireflies
I tried calling you back
With shards of my soul in my palms
And tears falling from my sky
But there was no use
I had to watch you take everything
You brought with you away
I had to watch my world weather away
And the unkempt bitterness
Grow back in haste

Yet, you have not taken everything away
The shards of my soul turned into stars
And the forest of my undying love
Struggling to grow and stay

The tears of my pleas collected into a river
That I sailed on and on heading your way

And although I did not chase back
The light of your fireflies,
I kept every speck of their light
These I turned into words of love
Every day I sent one to you
So that, on your way to your happiness
You’d never stray

I don’t have much of them left
And soon I’ll be silent, dreamless,
Dark and fading away

I see and hope you are content enough
For, I can no longer hold back the silence
Of your crashing waves
I’ll soon be sailing into a place without words
And there
In complete darkness
Beneath a perpetual starless night
Is where
I’ll stay
I am suffocating in a cave of complete silence, breathing in my own words, and feigning a shadow of love.

My words have become empty echoes of my loveless soul to be heard only by me, sometimes how I wish it would talk back to me, in clear, unmistakable voice, form, and being, and tell me, my love of the silent and shapeless was not an illusion and mistake.

But, for now, when my own mother say my words are just empty displays of vocabulary, I can no longer feel their weight.

— The End —