"entreated" poems
I stood still and was a tree amid the wood,
Knowing the truth of things unseen before;
Of Daphne and the laurel bow
And that god-feasting couple old
that grew elm-oak amid the wold.
’Twas not until the gods had been
Kindly entreated, and been brought within
Unto the hearth of their heart’s home
That they might do this wonder thing;
Nathless I have been a tree amid the wood
And many a new thing understood
That was rank folly to my head before.
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I took a stroll down my childhood lane
These neural pathways took me back
Multilingual versions of the narrative
Warned me of imminent attack
I made it work for me my people
Bedeviled on behalf of all my greater good
I took my time in stride with sidewalks cracked
And broke my swag along a scattered beach
Came down with that viral capacity to fluctuate
According to what gut feeling feeds heart pumping
Where we intersect that jazz bebopper inhabiting art
Draw outside the lines come together in stark contrast
To the words we negotiate with each other in exchange
For favors better left unpaid yet enacted cross-purpose
To our intended lizard goal to wrap our prey entangled
Tongued in the mail entreated globally galactic guardian
I’d simply settle inside ambitious repose armed by you
Draped across our gossamer webs wet commingled faces
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 1:30 AM UTC
The final breath is entreated by the breaths of wind,
the sky returns again as the stormy clouds depart.
Droplets of water, from seas all over Earth
Puddles of mud which use to be dirt.
Centuries of creation all about,
Weep as fast as the swimming trout.
The morning birth of the turtle doves,
peaceful and sad to see the dark night.
The atmosphere of peace in might,
As it pecks its way out of shell.
Beneath the bone of its mother,
She nurtures without a bother.
The evening loss of dogs of war.
At last the threat returns,
****** turned out of sores.
Teacher sick of burns.
Fire of skies tormenting,
Precipitate of dirt fomenting.
The freedom of the snake is not so seditious,
It feeds on the nest of the turtle dove.
Protect O mother-bird your love,
Jettison the hatred deep inside,
And **** the snake with severely brutal guile.
The final wind is shakened by the quakes of ground.
Hurt is one dove but there is three.
Enough to go around,
Eaten as food by thee.
Hurt I'm, Hurt I be, nature you sicken me.
Nature you sicken me.
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 10:42 AM UTC
The Birds Fly into the eclipse of Mars,
They're lives tithe me by fives,
To the Man beyond those jailed bars.
Searching for a new place to call home,
Since this place is a waste of space,
For everyone an then some.
But with especial selfishness, especially me.
I need to beat my heart again, by meeting those I once found sweet,
Birds flying to the Eclipse of mars to be free.
Its futile of course,
But that is where beauty is truly entreated,
Into our lives of insignificant remorse.
Get me out of here now.
We'll go flying just like those birds, into the eclipse Of mars,
Just me and you, the gorgeous Queen of the Stars,
Your smile radiates my Milky way and beyond,
We'll navigate the asteroid belts,
And fly through the black holes,
Because like those futile birds,
We just want to be free.
Mar 31, 2010
Mar 31, 2010 at 12:51 AM UTC
Lo, I have loved thee long, long have I yearned and entreated!
Tell me how I may win thee, tell me how I must woo.
Shall I creep to thy white feet, in guise of a humble lover ?
Shall I croon in mild petition, murmuring vows anew ?
Shall I stretch my arms unto thee, biding thy maiden coyness,
Under the silver of morning, under the purple of night ?
Taming my ancient rudeness, checking my heady clamor
Thus, is it thus I must woo thee, oh, my delight?
Nay, 'tis no way of the sea thus to be meekly suitor
I shall storm thee away with laughter wrapped in my beard of snow,
With the wildest of billows for chords I shall harp thee a song for thy bridal,
A mighty lyric of love that feared not nor would forego!
With a red-gold wedding ring, mined from the caves of sunset,
Fast shall I bind thy faith to my faith evermore,
And the stars will wait on our pleasure, the great north wind will trumpet
A thunderous marriage march for the nuptials of sea and shore.
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Noon had barely finished his circuit
when I engaged the Sun in conversation,
wondering if her healing rays were a golden ode to pain?
Abruptly interrupted;
shirts' silk thread dripping displeasure,
at the sudden moistness of its condition.
In return and in much the same verbal position,
I chided this thread,
intoxicated with sticky saline libation,
much less for the distraction
as opposed to the - parley intrusion,
citing;
“My dear shirt it’s impolite to gravitate beyond one's social inclusion”
Instinctively,
back and fingers joined this spoken foray
distancing themselves in unison
from the sozzled garments' argument.
Arching and pulling away,
his company no longer entreated,
whatever beauty he had,
now lost,
in his present
dis - position.
In agreement and sunshine unabating,
I attempted to continue our once lovely conversation.
But she;
her glow unwaning,
had moved on,
no longer finding such small talk entertaining.
© Qwey.ku
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 12:41 PM UTC
My heart has not felt a beat so strong,
As the daythat you first touched me.
And yet I still don't know where I belong,
Or if anything's even meant to be.
I was hopeful when you entreated me,
And somehow my soul let you in,
But lately it has ushered you to the door,
And has sealed it up tight again.
And my conscience stakes not even a claim,
To the muddled life that I live,
I am but a slave who never meant any harm,
And I pray that you will forgive.
Oct 28, 2010
Oct 28, 2010 at 4:44 PM UTC
Obscurest night involv'd the sky,
Th' Atlantic billows roar'd,
When such a destin'd wretch as I,
Wash'd headlong from on board,
Of friends, of hope, of all bereft,
His floating home for ever left.
No braver chief could Albion boast
Than he with whom he went,
Nor ever ship left Albion's coast,
With warmer wishes sent.
He lov'd them both, but both in vain,
Nor him beheld, nor her again.
Not long beneath the whelming brine,
Expert to swim, he lay;
Nor soon he felt his strength decline,
Or courage die away;
But wag'd with death a lasting strife,
Supported by despair of life.
He shouted: nor his friends had fail'd
To check the vessel's course,
But so the furious blast prevail'd,
That, pitiless perforce,
They left their outcast mate behind,
And scudded still before the wind.
Some succour yet they could afford;
And, such as storms allow,
The cask, the coop, the floated cord,
Delay'd not to bestow.
But he (they knew) nor ship, nor shore,
Whate'er they gave, should visit more.
Nor, cruel as it seem'd, could he
Their haste himself condemn,
Aware that flight, in such a sea,
Alone could rescue them;
Yet bitter felt it still to die
Deserted, and his friends so nigh.
He long survives, who lives an hour
In ocean, self-upheld;
And so long he, with unspent pow'r,
His destiny repell'd;
And ever, as the minutes flew,
Entreated help, or cried--Adieu!
At length, his transient respite past,
His comrades, who before
Had heard his voice in ev'ry blast,
Could catch the sound no more.
For then, by toil subdued, he drank
The stifling wave, and then he sank.
No poet wept him: but the page
Of narrative sincere;
Is wet with Anson's tear.
And tears by bards or heroes shed
Alike immortalize the dead.
I therefore purpose not, or dream,
Descanting on his fate,
To give the melancholy theme
A more enduring date:
But misery still delights to trace
No voice divine the storm allay'd,
No light propitious shone;
When, snatch'd from all effectual aid,
We perish'd, each alone:
But I beneath a rougher sea,
And whelm'd in deeper gulfs than he.
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(Warning: The following poem is a tale of horror)
_________________________________________________
1
Eat your food
pleaded the mom
Or else what?
shouted the stubborn child
Please eat your food
entreated the grandma
Or else what?
screamed the ungrateful child
Or else, said the father
*the barber will come in when we are out
and he'll snip off your fingers*
2
And true enough, one evening
when all the adults were out
a barber appeared before the child
and he said: Eat your food
Or else what? shouted the brat of a child
And when the adults returned that night
they found ten little fingers
all neatly displayed on the dining table
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 1:13 AM UTC
from her window she could see
the shells of buildings the bombs battered--gray concrete
ghosts, haunting in their silence
Father said his ears
hadn't stopped ringing since the attacks, though he still
could hear her playing
and he expected her practice to continue
for one day, he promised, prayers would prevail, peace
would return, and her song would be heard
play, he entreated, for ivory, black
and white, has forgotten the evil of men, their carnage;
the notes know nothing except to be played
and to give pause for hope, when
more trenchant sounds demanded one’s attention,
still the song must remain
Sep 18, 2016
Sep 18, 2016 at 7:38 PM UTC
731
“I want”—it pleaded—All its life—
I want—was chief it said
When Skill entreated it—the last—
And when so newly dead—
I could not deem it late—to hear
That single—steadfast sigh—
The lips had placed as with a “Please”
Toward Eternity—
1.3k
....this poem is dedicated to our fellow-poet here at HP, Marisa White...
Corax versus Tisias
(1) CORAX PRESENTS HIS CASE
Sirs, you most esteemed judges in all of Syracuse
most revered in all of our Greek world
I, Corax - known fondly, no doubt, as The Crow -
charge this man Tisias my student in rhetoric
of a mean trick against me, his teacher; he is a cheat
He entreated me often to teach him the smooth Art of Persuasion
the Perfection I had shaped in Rhetoric
And I agreed, after due consideration, prompted by my sense of duty;
and it was agreed he would pay me only if he wins
his first case in our esteemed courts
But Sirs, mark you well his treachery -
for having learned of me my 5-Stage Movement in Persuasion
he then has refused to take any legal case in court
so he would never have to pay me my due
And so it is now I have forced him to court;
and so I trust, most Honourable Judges, in your wisdom
If I win the case, I should naturally receive all payment;
if I should lose the case, Tisias wins, and so - logically -
he should pay me…Ah, I submit myself to your wisdom
(2) TISIAS PRESENTS HIS CASE
Sirs, it is most true I was taught by Corax
but I have not kept away from court deliberately
but of fear - for I have no confidence in the rhetoric
he has taught me
For all he taught me was reliance on flattery
which I know, Sirs, never moves you
And so Sirs, if I should lose, it is I who should be paid
by the terms of the agreement;
and if I should win, in spite of his poor instruction,
then it is I again who should be paid for I win then
by my own naturalness
and by your aversion to flattery
(3) THE ESTEEMED JUDGES MAKE THEIR DECISION KNOWN
“Kakou korakas kakon oon”
which translated in the vernacular, you commoners, is:
“Bad Crow, Bad Egg”
Case dismissed!
Throw the Crow and its Egg out of this Revered Court!
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 4:40 AM UTC
You hear my every thought,
My every prayer,
My every cry of anguish-
Or so I have always believed.
You are a God of justice,
And mercy,
And love.
You promise me rest from
This world's burdens.
Yet this is denied to me.
I asked for light in the darkness,
Pleaded for peace in chaos,
Wept for an end to this unbearable pain.
On my knees, tears streaming, I entreated;
*"Bring me home, Lord.
I am too exhausted to fight this endless war.
Please, I want to come home!"*
And I heard a whisper;
**Not yet.
It is not your time,
There is still far more I have in mind
For you.
You cannot see it now,
But there are blessings to come
Far greater than you can dream.**
And with this frail hope
I trudged through
Week by week,
Taking it a day at a time,
Sometimes surviving only hour to hour.
And here I am once again,
Agony enveloping my heart.
Salt water stinging my eyes,
My body wracked with sobs,
Choking back screams.
You are the God of justice,
And mercy,
And love.
You promise me rest from,
This world's burdens.
Yet you curse me with this affliction,
Disguised in a strong embrace,
A heart-melting smile,
Warm, brown eyes,
Three, single syllable words.
I love you
I shake uncontrollably.
I desperately gulp for air.
I can't think
Over the clamor
Of my own heartbeat.
I am not here,
This is not happening,
This is not my life.
*Can you say it back?
It would mean a lot to me...
I know you do...*
My thoughts roar with the words,
My heart beats to their rhythm,
My soul sings their melody,
Every fiber of my being screams it.
You are God of justice,
And mercy,
And love.
You promise me rest from
This world's burdens.
I am sure that You love me, Lord,
With all that You are,
Yet I cannot fathom
How this man holding me
Could even begin to love me
When I can't even love myself.
*Why me? Why love me?
How could you possibly love me?
You deserve someone better,
Someone good,
Someone beautiful,
Someone whole.*
Lord;
If You are justice,
Then why give me this punishment?
If You are mercy,
Then why am I captive to my past?
If You are love,
Then why am I so terrified of being loved?
If You promise me rest from
This world's burdens,
Then why can't I let myself be happy?
You hear my every thought,
My every prayer,
My every cry of anguish.
So I desperately fall to my knees again,
And throw myself completely into You,
Praying that someday You give me the strength
To make myself weak
And say to him
Three, single syllable words.
I love you
Mar 27, 2017
Mar 27, 2017 at 7:56 PM UTC
He pulled her to himself and said,
"Give me a kiss, my Lady, just a kiss"
She turned away and shook her head
*"No. I thought you promised me bliss".
"But look, all my shelves are bare,
What tells me of your professed care?"*
Almost kneeling, he entreated her
*"But Sweetheart, here, you have my heart
Or would you rather I gift you a car?"*
She wailed, *"You must think me daft!
You have a beautiful wife and child
Sitting around the glowing fire in your home
Then you abandon me here, in the wild
To live by myself, all alone
You think I care for a car
When you'd still be so far
I could not even drive to meet you
Then, I'd be a complete fool".*
He replied, *"Dear lady, I hate to have met you
Long after I had been hooked to a wife
That no one had given me a chance to woo
Now I couldn't live without you in my life
Please, tell me what I ought to do."*
Her eyes a-blazing, his a-gazing
She declared,*"Send your miserable wife away
And I'm sorry, your daughter
Will have to live without her father
And I'm going to the big mansion to stay!"*
"Oh no! No!" he cried, *"That's unfair!
I love you but I must say the truth
The miserable wife has always shown me care
Over the years, right from our youth
I could not divorce her for anything
Least of all, you selfish, drama queen!"*
She snorted and said, *"Well spoken!
Beware of this heart you have broken
I tested to know how much you loved me
Your lies are now very evident to see
Go away and leave me alone
I'll find me a husband,
To give me a proper home!"*
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 5:53 AM UTC
Raine...
What's in a name?
We long knew of our downfall
Our star-crossed love.
As our minds combined,
And our bodies mingled,
We joked we were doomed.
Raine,
What's in a name?
We fell into untouchable love
Our star-crossed love.
As our minds intrigued,
And our bodies harmonized,
We knew we were doomed.
Raine,
What's in a name?
You fell out our wonderful love
Our star-crossed love.
As my mind pleaded,
And my hands entreated,
I found I was doomed.
Nov 23, 2013
Nov 23, 2013 at 5:31 PM UTC
I begged,
On bent knee, my palm gently kissing her hand.
If I needed to smith a sword she was my searing heat.
If I needed to craft a ship she was my impenetrable weld.
If I needed to fly she was the wind beneath my wings.
I had never been able to do anything without her.
Once again I beseeched her to lend herself to me.
Her dark brown eyes probed mine in keenness
Discerning the nobility of my plea, if to heed
If I am to set sail amidst the flooding waves of life
I’d need her as my anchor
If I am to brave the fog and the winter cold
I’d need her to radiate against my skin
If I am to fashion a generation of impeccable humans
I’d need only her to be.
Once again I entreated her to lend herself to me.
Her eyes came out of my deeps, sparkling with satisfaction
And a curve of her lips preceded the calm in her answer
No
I give myself to you!
Jun 23, 2019
Jun 23, 2019 at 3:23 PM UTC
My sister Susan had disappeared
At the age of twenty four,
She’d gone on up to the attic room
And she’d locked and barred the door,
We beat, cajoled, and entreated her,
But she never would come out,
I said, ‘We shouldn’t have argued Sue,
I didn’t need to shout.’
My father came with his gravel voice
And demanded ‘Open up!’
He thumped and kicked on the cedar door,
And beat with a metal cup,
But there wasn’t even a whimper
As of somebody inside,
It was like she’d suffered a broken heart
Had crawled in there, and died.
We left her there till the morning,
Thought a night would calm her down,
‘She’ll come out once she is hungry,’
Said my brother, (he’s a clown).
But as the clock struck for dinner time
With not the slightest stir,
My father carried a battering ram
And ran right up the stair.
He stood and battered the cedar door,
He said it gave him pain,
‘I can’t afford to replace it, but,’
Then belted it again,
The door had splintered, the lock fell off
And he burst into the room,
But all that he saw were cobwebs, dust
And an air of deepest gloom.
‘Susan, where can you be,’ he cried,
‘There’s nowhere you can hide,
There isn’t even a window here
So you can’t have got outside,’
His voice rang out through the house and sent
An echo down the stair,
My mother burst into tears to hear
That Susan wasn’t there.
The police came over and climbed the roof,
Dropped into the attic space,
They hunted among the rafters there,
Looked almost every place,
There wasn’t a sign of Susan though
She’d simply disappeared,
‘The same thing happened to Grandma Coe,’
My mother cried, ‘It’s weird!’
‘She locked herself in the attic there
In the fall of forty-eight,
‘They thought that they heard her on the stair
When the hour was getting late,
But never a sign of her came back,
Then her husband, Grandpa died,
We always thought that she must be here
But somehow locked inside.’
We called the local clairvoyant in
And he brought his Tarot pack,
He stared long into his crystal ball
Till we had to call him back,
He chanted into the midnight hour
In a voice both loud and slow,
Till shuffling out of the Attic came
Not Sue, but Grandma Coe!
David Lewis Paget
Jan 9, 2017
Jan 9, 2017 at 3:33 AM UTC
Ai say, receiving via bluetooth,
oh, say, this must be our sign, soon...
On some curve of life function rectifiers,
we have believers who make reasons
for all individual inflamed,
proud local flesh
or agreement clusters
of our kind.
Should you have decided
this is the day,
I heard,
at your I level you hear
this is the day.
Your part, your role, react in part
We have been called.
Out from the shadows mellow,
no dramatics, satisfaction granted,
taken, rest and recuperate, hate later…
listen, this, in its word flow,
is part of time words exist in,
after being read once, right made,
this dabar is said
to use the pen
of a ready writer, eh what better effort,
effectually adapting
to our instant constant
in prayer, believe is a verb,
on your side.
We believe
we know how faith must
function using our faculties
for sensing needs, which are keyed
to homeostasis, relative balance
of the chemistry and mechanics
of life
in motion.
We can do this with no hate at all, wisdom
fruits entreated with in bubbles of war,
for some certainly ****** reasons,
we can infect your wished real,
reasons to beg for bread, real,
humility costs that gnosis,
and so do many religious
ties to late spring around here.
Apr 16, 2025
Apr 16, 2025 at 5:48 PM UTC
What if I asked you
entreated you into ending me.
My fingers click against
sweat stained keys,
my eyes strain against the florescent lights of
my computer screen,
my ears vibrate with the sounds of laughter penetrating the empty
dead space of my closed room.
I don't want to continue like this.
My life is walking
with wearied feet sinking
deeper
and deeper still
in the mud of desperation.
My toes crack
my ankles creak from the stiff cold
as I rotate their joints.
I'm becoming tired,
as the night progresses
I wish often than cautiousness allows
that I
would sleep and not wake.
Oct 2, 2010
Oct 2, 2010 at 8:36 PM UTC
Fasces and olive branch on one side, tails;
wing-ed Phrygian cap on the head
of an image of the spirit of
Liberty, a fem.
Heads.
Dimes in the olden times,
when I was born,
1948,
dimes in America in those days
symbolized a long known
goodness for all men,
included in
we, the people, which includes
me.
Me and thee, we are we, only by virtue of my
words being written and your reading
of the same within our
terms of endearment
cookie.
Each we we are in, let us call a set,
but that confuses us, fuses us
to gether.
So, let's seee
See it like this. I am good. I repel wrong and
act right,
asif I were
polarized live in op
position to evil
evil live, have you seen it? Live,
did it prosper in your presence or was peace the final state?
Just, now. Please plea with your knower, don't lie.
Say never all you wish, however never lie
against the truth.
To thine own self, et al... y'know
in each generation of earth borne,
one hero is reared to play your role, dear reader.
Fret not,
know wisdom has been maligned as
calling us through each position
of the fool... there is a map
of these positions in a statuary garden
behind the temple of the golden buddha
in Bankok, visited with Mr. Boo in 1968.
I remember none of the poses but ai knows they form
a pyramid,
i
imagine it
peaks in some backward
footed kundalini pose,
which is bull **** I imagined. Wisdom is gentle
and easy to be entreated, okeh, heko.
Jul 10, 2019
Jul 10, 2019 at 10:43 PM UTC
RED WHITE BLUE THE colors of the flag flowing over the Nation one that stands for peace but surely defend in war we can defeat countries that we have entreated that have scorned global peace American guns of war and mighty power in due course tend to repeat .Americans stand out wherever they go voices rising with pride of their country so that every one will know. America the beautiful I pledge my love and dedication forever to you serving this great and free land as under the free flowing stars and stripes united we all stand I will love America the beautiful forever
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 1:15 AM UTC
Red white Blue the colors of the flag flowing over the Nation that stands for peace but surely defend in war we can countries that we have entreated that scorned global peace American guns of war and mighty power to in due course defeat Americans stand out wherever they go naturally proud of their country so that every one will know.America the beautiful I pledge my love and dedication forever to you serving this this great and free land as under the free flowing stars and stripes united we all stand .I will always love America the beautiful forever
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 12:54 AM UTC
I,
defines love
as
Entoptic, for
love starts from
the eye.
Love is entreating,
as well as
it is entreated
your willingnes
to do things matter.
Love evolves
and it is enchanted.
Love is envious and
by love you envy.
Love is an epidemic
it spreads in no
time.
Love excels and
Love is excellent
but
Love is equal
and NO matter how
I define
LOVE
Love is still love
it is Erratic.
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 10:50 AM UTC
My very own words
I prayed & entreated
"Don't leave me, my love"
Yet again & again
I pointed blunt knives
At our chests
Leaving a trail of pain
In my wake
Like soldiers unrecovered
Rushing back in
Pushing both to our limits
Breaking our necks
Our battlefields forever alive
Restless as children
Drowning in compunction
An unending dirge
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 10:45 AM UTC
Patient promise
Live and learn
Preach and teach
Jealous and zealous
Soul and spirit
Body and mind
Plain and simple
Safe and sound
Solid fluid gaseous plasma we
Phase shifted at the time.
For thus saith the LORD
unto the eunuchs that keep my sabbaths,
and choose [the things] that please me,
and take hold of my covenant;
{whose to judge, weightless we}
Even unto them will I give
in mine house and within my walls
a place and a name better than
of sons and of daughters:
I will give them an everlasting name,
that shall not be cut off.
--- thus said the celibate tyranny to the misfits.
The lure of the priesthood? Bribes, or declaration,
by the Authority of the faithful confirming secret acts,
and all minds mingle in pools of times tales told hold,
solid state, firm foundationally times tale told holy.
True, mano y mano, no God can go, being in truth spirit,
not flesh, until the laws of the covenant are filled full,
according to the plan as the prophet called IsAIaH has affirmed
true, when presented
in the finished salvation anointing outpouring.
** all ye athirst, come drink
think a timely thought, retrace your steps
from first moment, dig for the oldest experience,
when you now
think from that instance in reality to now, I am me, the idea
in my head that I can form words from. with adaptive exposure
to spoken words lifted into we all know realm for our good pleasure.
Settle down, calm the water's, leave go the miracles perceived,
and seek ye first the highest mind's true abode, step out,
great were the numbers publishing freedom now.
Peace works, easily entreated, wisdom woes..;
look back at what we thought we were, users of words, using mind
in general, co-knowing-uses, sensing food smell flower smell, must
Nov 30, 2023
Nov 30, 2023 at 5:15 PM UTC