"extolled" poems
Know, Celia, since thou art so proud,
’Twas I that gave thee thy renown.
Thou hadst in the forgotten crowd
Of common beauties lived unknown
Had not my verse extolled thy name,
And with it imped the wings of Fame.
That killing power is none of thine;
I gave it to thy voice and eyes.
Thy sweets, thy graces, all are mine;
Thou art my star, shin’st in my skies:
Then dart not from thy borrowed sphere
Lightning on him that fixed thee there.
Tempt me with such affrights no more,
Lest what I made I uncreate.
Let fools thy mystic form adore,
I know thee in thy mortal state.
Wise poets, that wrapped truth in tales,
Knew her themselves through all her veils.
2.6k
***** of echoes, the virile resonance quaking lust -
Throbbing caverns shudder to ****** inciting vestal musk
Entranced of nocturnal bedevilment - barefaced in galactic greens,
Spores ethereal yet concealed to the Queen
Sumptuous omphalos; her ecstatic womb engulfing the bloom,
Carnal reckonings devoid of Mosaic release as panting creatures swoon
Vigorous pollination morphing the nectarean sheath
Roused stamen shrivel in an animus induced retreat
Again we'll rise to salute our idol
In burning continuance:
Fertility extolled
With pleasure recompensed.
Nov 20, 2012
Nov 20, 2012 at 7:51 PM UTC
They repeatedly boasted aloud
of conquests and victories
for a short period between
their palmy days of youth
and unexpected quick death;
a mad rush of adrenaline
before thought could wake up reason,
nothing more than a basic need
for impulsive violent action,
few drops of poetry could have changed direction,
a death wish triggered by moments of darkness
that invites a chain of tragic consequences.
But thoughtful they were
to hire overzealous writers,
being aware of their need of arming future.
The writers extolled the futile deaths
embellished words, made it look heroic
which really pointed only to a ****** end.
Look at each tomb stones lined
here in the cemetery, once more
see, if the names extolled once are still not eroded.
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 1:59 PM UTC
I existed for you, mister;
I extolled your complex nature.
I was intoxicated, briefly; you were good.
You excelled at smart seduction;
you outfoxed me with your hoaxes.
I didn't watch my heart the way I should;
but by the flux of your affections,
it meant approximately nothing.
Any buxom minx could have you if she tried.
It was a lonely anticlimax,
but I kicked my sad fixation
and nixed your plans to decimate my pride.
Feb 25, 2011
Feb 25, 2011 at 5:29 PM UTC
There was a flower, blossoming on the shoreline. Beholding the serenity of the seas and criticising the rise and fall of the indomitable tides.
It swayed in the balmy air and loathed the dusty storms.
It adored the sun's radiance and mourned the moon's norms.
It extolled the aesthetics and execrated the wrongs.
It denied the nectar but appreciated the honeycomb.
There was a peyote, living in the dreary sands. Mesmerized by the great dunes, standing like a tomb.
Relishing the scanty rains with much aplomb.
It grows its roots in the search of water, many call it a coxcomb.
Such is the folk, unaware of the real beauty for so long!
- Swasti Jain
Feb 27, 2017
Feb 27, 2017 at 11:02 AM UTC
Every cold day, reminds
of heat, and flame
extolled
Rising temperatures, elate
feeding spirit and
feeding soul
Her brush caress' my canvas
spinning art
and lighting fires
Filling all and untold senses
consuming flesh, and heart
too the pinnacle of
desire
Jan 2, 2018
Jan 2, 2018 at 1:06 PM UTC
Daffodils honour us with their diaphanous emerging,
familiar old friends, it’s welcome yellow fellows well
met. We greet you gratefully from your submerging
floral heads mutate, from green bud to golden bell.
Nature, benefactor of all provision, gifts indulgence
plays host to these visitors for sadly too brief a stay
endows bright vistas which radiate in rare effulgence
springing in Spring this seasonal and annual display.
Daffodils grow row on row hereabout and all around
a host of them as Wordsworth’s great poem extolled;
flowers that proliferate and thrive upon waste ground
gilding the darkest spaces by their alchemy into gold.
Like gold a noble daffodil yields a treasure for the eye,
an array of optical pleasure then doffs its cap goodbye.
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 11:58 PM UTC
The doctor rubbed my sore shoulder
spraying copious amounts of analgesic compound
to freeze the area
from the side of my eye I caught the
silver glint of a 6 inch needle poised
to penetrate my quivering shoulder
with cortisone
intense pain exploded through my consciousness
as the syringe fracked into the deeper regions of
my shoulder
Afterwards, while reflecting on this incident
I thought about polarities and Newton’s Law:
“For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction”
The pain I had just experienced did not occur in a vacuum
Somewhere along the time continuum I’d set up that opposite
swing of the pendulum
I recollected all the intense moments of extreme and dizzying
sense enjoyment, lust and gratification
my mind has sought and indulged in with rabid satisfaction
always wanting more, restless, never content or at peace
When we examine this world, and its quintessential duality
we are confronted with extremes at every angle
Hot, cold, up, down, win, lose
We can’t have birth without death and so on
hmm…. I thought as the enlightenment bulb
went off in my head
This is why many great sages and saints
fostered a way of life that
transcended duality
Lord Buddha extolled the “Middle Path”
He described the middle way as moderation
between the excesses of carnal indulgence
and self mortification
Aristotle gave us the “Golden Mean”
“every virtue is a mean between two extremes, each of which is a vice.”
Sathya Sai Baba states:
“The object of meditation is equanimity,
the object of equanimity is samadhi (enlightenment or self realization)"
This beautiful quote by Bhagavan Baba is redolent with wisdom
and sublime beauty:
“Surrender to God and to life means the absence of duality
and being of the same nature as God.
But such a state is beyond man’s will.
Surrender is when doer, deed and object are all God.
It comes naturally to a heart filled with love for God.
God is as a spring of fresh and sweet water in the heart.
The best tool to dig a well to that inexhaustible source and
savor its sweetness, is Japa (Chanting God’s Name)
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 12:38 PM UTC
I extolled them as they went about their
Menial tasks in suits of silk;
Sunday bests amidst the concrete, the earth,
The broken shards of
Bamboo splintered skin, hiding interiors
And further, the broken mirrors of
The broken memories of the
Broken histories upon the
Broken backs become names wrought ancient.
Though further from fractured, a family calls,
Beholden to the absolute intent, but one wish –
Eternity amongst the bountiful brethren left behind
Atop tea-brimmed Mountains and a
One malevolent, revered benevolent,
Mao.
One more saga prerequisite this newer dynasty red –
Witness the
Wives huddled plowshares,
The daughter scribbled arithmetic
And sons assumed thrones to legacy.
I scrutinize soiled – smoke amid pear peelings,
The dirtied – unscathed and archaic,
So very fatigued – just one more nail,
For his eternity, with scratch and
Sliver of blood, a sanctity upon chin
Beyond cradled hammer,
Hand hugging thumb,
Thumb beyond nail, iron or the
Heart impaled homesick;
But I and hand asserting tie, freshly pressed,
Almost gleaming with an embezzled prestige –
Born unto Arcadia, a puzzle near complete
Continued to run, with only second’s pause to admire,
So very far from the fields of, “father,” or first blink,
While Sunday’s best weep, work and wither.
This man with joint autographed, “end,” and
Soon to be mound, history wrought dust,
A chipped Henan ceramic
And hours in attempt to breach;
Behold the back of Chen.
The title of this piece was inspired by observing constructions workers wearing suits we'd typically wear for an interview. That being said, my venture in China is near an end - years in the making. What's next? Ecuador? Japan? Morocco? Montana? Either way, I could never thank China enough for all that'd become naked before I and my pilgrimage christened, "world."
Jul 5, 2015
Jul 5, 2015 at 11:08 AM UTC
200,000
200 K
200 thou
Reads as of today
I wrote of Orion
And silly sleigh rides
Wrote about hometowns
And passionate nights
****** damnable wars
And narcissistic politicians
Wrote sorrowful elegies
Extolled the human condition
Offered odes to loved ones
And critiqued the powerful
Celebrated the splendor of nature
And children most wonderful
Honked loud about jazz
And hot improvisation
Poked fun at the MoMA
Held deep blue introspection
We got many more reads
Than actual likes
I’m growing concerned
That I have more dislikes
But here is one more
Silly trite poem
I hope you like it
You can read it at home
Thanks for all your support….
Simon and Garfunkel
Poem on the Underground Wall
Love Mac…..
Oakland
5/23/16
May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 12:58 PM UTC
{ Full to brimming madness
A shaded blot of tin
Flumes for eyes
And the fire to fertilize
Croaked behind the wind. }
( Patched of a day's quilt
The moths of aperture
Spirited away the dusk
To the vestal mouse
Whose heart doth thrum sure. )
[ Of extolled breath
Chambered nubility
Did shy to the hand
In which 'twas held:
Invariably. ]
/ In all paintings hung
Bereft of blemishes to sting,
Fibrin inks touching canvas
Evoke the rumbling stream;
The renascence of Spring. \
Nov 20, 2012
Nov 20, 2012 at 7:55 PM UTC
© 2009 (Jim Sularz)
Faith pierces the gray morning clouds,
and a new age has dawned.
A faith that outstretched wings of peace will soar,
through stormy skies now calmed.
With faith we’ll wake to see that promised day,
when swords are hammered into plows.
Faith that moves hills and mountains about,
a faith that believes and will never doubt.
Hope with hearts bared and prayers extolled,
that only good will come to pass.
When disease, hunger, the orphaned and cold,
are no longer memories of our past.
Hope that shapes a world of dreams,
and one that keeps us safe.
Hope with a soft and warm caress,
a hope that will fill our emptiness.
Love, an unbreakable golden thread,
that weaves through hearts and souls.
When love resonates with truth from above,
the Heavens open, a Universe unfolds.
Love heals those who stand in it’s light,
and guides those lost in the dark.
Love without blame and endless in scope,
a love that forgives all, through Faith and Hope.
Jul 8, 2012
Jul 8, 2012 at 5:25 PM UTC
The Post
Two poets love she exits by suicide others give a rose he gives the richest colors and the inner knowing of a rose
His struggle with death the impenetrate- able wall of stone bristles with sorrows painful thorns pleading ineffective
Together centered deep heartfelt discussions filled their time now one without the other he wobbles lost he goes
A train with the engineer but no firemen to stoke the boiler lost steam he runs on dreamless tracks no destination
Her vision now always at the periphery once it was the steady enduring light this he extolled with touching lines
The measure of a life can’t be taken just by earthen hours what mention is this it’s like saying the universe is empty
Or the oceans are just water a life started never ends it exceeds the reach of mortal thought forever is the souls times
Start life in confines of earthly structures you walk baby steps are the inhabitants that live beyond all that is known small
Towering scolding wonders will not be home to the timid but to those who invade they stride with confidence to Triton
Once with elements that were given to eroding and failure now their very veins charged with power that burns galaxies as twigs
See their flaming trail as they sail the dark space old worlds left now climb to the unknown there is where you place your piton
You knew them you loved them next when you meet you will roam with them you will be at war with worlds to conquer
Look beyond the dawn of time that’s your future now in human weakness it’s too much so it is shrouded what was will be again
No one can conceive or believe what guardian worlds know each day as tests the extreme the intoxicating wonder proclaims
The true statement the valor and creeds of men pale in comparison to the high activity and the weighty outcomes that now begin
First rapture the earth will know trouble in comparison to all wars combined since time began truth has brought peace to the faithful
Jan 1, 2012
Jan 1, 2012 at 8:41 PM UTC
We walked down the path,
Overgrown weeds jut out from every direction.
The harsh textures rub against my bare legs,
as if being kissed by an unshaven man.
The narrow sodden trail unwinds,
revealing translucent waters with distinguished elegance.
It feels as if the eye can transcend forever.
The water is tainted,
it is the furthest thing from purity.
It’s beauty once extolled is as meaning less as a grungy penny,
for it is an artificial beauty.
-Marissa Navedo
Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 2:48 AM UTC
Letters
With a little paper and ink and the time it takes to think you can tie time and space together
Hearts warmest caring tucked and folded speaking stands in neatest rows sweetest love it shows
Mathematics consoled in problems extolled reaching bearing the load of heavy thoughts they to know
Some lines are like stairs they climb to heights the reader brought so far to enjoy pure delights
Some expression organized in quiet detail meant to push and move the listener beyond normal thought
Or in playful tunes the idea has no other content or purposes it only design is to leave you amused
Some would care to drive the point fast but the object is to assure you find what is urgently sought
Some contend and desire they be perceived with style they stand clothed in grandest attire
Perplexing other seems to go for the childhood game of hide and seek who isn’t intrigued by mystery
Others harder to define surely a secret communiqué these twist and turns truly cloak and dagger
Your mind devises images of stories that are found like currents ebbing and flowing with telling history
Stages are set everything in finest detail is set for viewing and dramatic effect your guest expect the best
Then for the end you must paint with deftness this portrait of words will be kept only in the heart
At first it enters the portal of the mind only the anteroom there the decision where does it belong
Then after careful study to deduce the senders true meaning you search a place for endearing art
What a read in the still quiet the mind smoothly draws the blinds closing you in with sweetest thoughts
Dec 1, 2011
Dec 1, 2011 at 9:31 AM UTC
Distance from resistance
Missed shifts in risk persistent
When I'm remiss in the kisses of listed insistence
Your confidence wishes assistance
in the blissful existence
of
Any preexisting feelings
amiss of desistance
You lock you load the slock to hold
Secure and compound the slur to hound
The insecure, the bound
The insincere and the frowned
Until
Your blow quells the next risk
Swollen from a deft fist
Stolen by a neck twist
Beholden to your inner drift at the mirrored wrists
Of the monster betwixt this fixed rift of our mix
The signs won't unwind in your mind
They can't hide what's behind a sombre face unlined and undefined by your take on this time
Let's realign it
Let's redesign it
Let the lock smash with a rash motion borne of flashed emotion
Torn from some shared idyllic notion
Of a presupposition for mutual commotion
Or even of a genuine devotion
Give me the whole of the role of shrouding your soul
Or the hole for which it was sold
I will mould the folds and hold back the cold
With my own old extolled blindfold
Good enough?
Should be tough
No rebuff
Could be
Maybe
- love?
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 9:02 AM UTC
She has got those wings.
That makes her fly, that takes her high.
She has got the enigma.
That makes her fight, that brings out her dynamite.
She has got those tears
That vaporise like acid, that makes her heart scream "face it".
She has got her own aroma.
That embraces her soul, that makes her extolled.
She has got this "Girl Label".
That she hangs to her pride, that takes her upright.
Aug 27, 2017
Aug 27, 2017 at 1:47 AM UTC
she used her strength of character to destroy a king
and thus everything with her was contaminated
life was cheap to such a female who had ****** in her veins
she took the time to arrange her hair and paint her face
she prostituted her gifts for the furtherance of evil
determined to abolish all that interfered with the fulfillment of her wicked designs
as the daughter of the devil
she suffers a worse retribution
there was no sign of repent
she was rotten root to branch
an unrepentant prophetess who has beguiled the people
persuasive
her influence was wrongly directed and her misdirected talents have become a curse
savage and relentless
this strong women carried out her schemes
nothing but a pawn
packed off the the highest bidder
she represents a view of women good that is opposite of the one extolled
magnificent and defiant
hurling insults at her murderers
as the daughter of the devil
she suffers a worse retribution
there was no sign of repent
she was rotten root to branch
an unrepentant prophetess who has beguiled the people
an inhuman wretch incapable of pity
oh so void
she's so ******* empty
as the daughter of the devil
she suffers a worse retribution
there was no sign of repent
she was rotten root to branch
an unrepentant prophetess who has beguiled the people
Nov 23, 2016
Nov 23, 2016 at 2:56 PM UTC
Yet still how the Mind would by Conscience clear
As Pickled Brains could those Sooted Clouds mop
If Facts extolled by such Roomed Degrees fear
The Elder-of-Age; Check deserve his Crop
That by addends of his Résumé, form
Match sordidly less to his Passion burn
And plomb much Skin; Past Generation's norm
Make less easy for Child Labours in-turn
Unless hammered - again - wax this *** Refuse
To sacrifice your Male for Image spent
Soon Locks will rust; In best Demand abuse
By plucking the Peacock's Magnificence.
Can you Comprehend? This Well-Minted Voice
Ask for Pile's Honest; Beg for your Fine Choice.
Apr 3, 2013
Apr 3, 2013 at 10:15 PM UTC
*your father was a gambler
and the story of his life
clung to the seat of his pants
and the holes on his knees
your next meal was always
just a deal away on some nights
his hand was rock steady
his steely gaze was cold and firm
and not even the unattired thighs
of a jezebel could distract him
after he had sniffed the money
so you flourished in a home
that was a blooming oxymoron
with a hard-faced survivor
of many knife duels for a father
and a mother with a lovely face
and a mardi gras queen smile
my fickle heart was rather coy
and my tongue was quiet and still
when i should have sung your praises
and extolled your awesome virtues
and your resplendent face in the dusk
faint heart trembles at the altar of her grace
but brave buck walks to his fate with zeal
so i kneel and i meditate your serenity
wrought by art alive in your hungry heart*
Jan 1, 2016
Jan 1, 2016 at 5:53 PM UTC
She did not ire against the fading light
The mystery of death did not perplex
But comforted her enervated soul
As she acquiesced to fate
Her last words extolled the joys of life
And love
And the sunset
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 8:17 AM UTC
No, we certainly shall not.
(sonnet #MMMMMMCCCCLXXXVII)
O Wordsworth! La, but how his spirit's hale
Pride sifts anon twixt every stanza, whence
My soul congeals, as left like bones from hence
To dry and bleach in heavn's bald eye; joys fail
Whileas he waxes eloquent, to hail
Aught note of twinkling life with that cold sense
Which calculates the breath out of all thence
Caught in his lines, til I can't breathe t'avail.
He takes up passion like's unknown as twere,
Despite the fact he is just that, yet to
A fault upon a bloodless scale, who'd stir
The whitened ashes of aught fire to do
It up as if's a specimen: dead. Poor
As all that, he extolled much...sans life's dew.
10Jul17a
Jul 12, 2017
Jul 12, 2017 at 8:31 PM UTC
Audible unspoken soliloquies
wandering from room to room
Resonation in minor scale oddities
Color the gathering gloom
For I know not from whence they come
Music from my soul
These keys which I’ve always succumb
not from reluctance are they extolled.
For it is the music of the universe
that continually rewinds itself
in light years across the steely perverse
from some interstellar shelf
Rhythm from some random pulsars
in galactic syncopation
in quantum entanglement these stars
this meter by synchrotron radiation
Beamed into me and I know not why
Sometimes I can feel it
Sometime its grace makes me cry
But most of all it will permit
Me to see the purity within it
and the beauty in all things
for it is never-ending and will not quit
this music in my own cosmic strings
I thank God for this celestial download
I am a better human because of it
Am I worthy of this honor bestowed?
I will not question His wisdom forthwith
Parts of it because I am a musician
and the other parts of astronomers
these two in the synergy of fission
of notes, telescopes and binoculars
So if you visit my house and hear strange melodies
playing in the back of your minds
it’s the music of the spheres strange soliloquies
within your minds beginning to sublime.
Dave Proffitt
8/11/2016
6:03 PM
Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 6:22 AM UTC