"farfetched" poems
I was in a darkness of my own
Within a night I had not known
I chose to stumble in my pace
With all hope of light misplaced
On my course a twinkle caught my eye
A lonely star in the sky above
Getting ever brighter as I drew nigh
Then did I see the truth thereof
It was a myriad in mutiny
A constellation that raided the night
Luminous in its beauty
A radiance which compelled my sight
I was in a darkness of my own
Overcome by a light unknown
That eased my path in grace
And all lost hope replaced
It reclined in the cosmos
Calling out to me
Seeming within reach almost
Then I blurred back to reality
A marvel that pulled my soul
By more than figure of speech
To be part of a whole
My flesh could never reach
How daunting a brilliance
I longed for though farfetched
My heart need travel a distance
Fear served only to stretch
It held my tarrying gaze
For only a moment more
Then left me in a daze
Stealing that which I adore
I again stumble in my pace
Having lost my stars in space
Returned to a state I now bemoan
I am in a darkness of my own.
Dec 28, 2018
Dec 28, 2018 at 5:49 PM UTC
**Society, the embodiment of human securities
Is in reality the stark confirmation
Of a conglomerate of screaming insecurities
Begging….its leaders….fervent introspection **
*Bending logic is an art perfected by all
Regardless of creed class or stature
No wonder the walk is seemingly a hard laboured crawl
Culminating into deep exposed…psychological sutures*
**Beings are bedevilled by a roving myopia
Craving a farfetched grandiose utopia
That’s why a bespectacled cynicism
Is ironically of essence…to neutralise a deep rooted parochialism**
Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 7:28 AM UTC
Fear is a natural feeling,
A part of life
To be afraid of something in this world
Is not so farfetched a thought
Death, being hated, never finding love
All completely fair to be afraid of
But the irrational fears that some have
Simply never cease to amaze me
And let me inform you,
That this is a true story
A mother who stabbed
Her husband with a fork
At the dinner table
While the children watched
Four prongs pierced skin and veins alike
Blood showered forth
As ketchup from the bottle
The children were devastated to say the least
Now twenty two years later
That same little boy from the kitchen table
Sits in the restaurant haunted and alone
No date, no friends, no company
Eating his steak with a plastic spoon
He murmurs something about
Forks being a leading cause of death
What a sad and untrue statistic
Jul 15, 2012
Jul 15, 2012 at 5:48 PM UTC
Don’t preen my wings -
I told you, even though
In the beginning I was just
a caterpillar crawling through
a sweeping field of chrysanthemums
Soft, fragile
were my dreams and hopes of
admiring the robins, as they
thrash by their nearby nest
nursing their young
as the babes chirp, beaks wide open
as their mum feeds them hope
that someday they’ll fly like robins do
I hope I can fly, someday
I told you that
the night we feast on the leaves
of Milkweeds
in hopes of growing wings
like those robins
that we admire the most
Little did I know that
You started chewing on what
was mine, my wings-
are imaginary, you said
that my hopes and dreams
to be one with the robins
are farfetched
And you chewed, and chewed, and chewed
till we grew hard and tough on self-loathing
upon the realization that your
words are always the truth that
we avoid since the beginning
when we got drunk on that
Milkweed
I admit, that you chewed
and it forced me to follow
Don’t preen my wings, I told you
that time when we hang up by the
branch of the fully grown Hawthorn
along the red, plump berries
We ghosted each other
on the shell we were forced to take
Like those hermit ***** that we used to watch
by the thorns of roses, seeing them take
the burden of one another makes us
laugh
But as we sit in silence as the
darkness of our own making envelops us,
but I was, contented
knowing that darkness
is an old friend
and you by my side
is a way - a company
to spend the time
blinded
What happened?
What happened that night when
a gust of wind flew
through us, I felt the
chill of the upcoming gale
I shouted
but you are too busy
dealing with the darkness
you’re in
Don’t preen my wings, I told you
as I detached from the branch
that we used to hangout
as caterpillars
But we don’t crawl anymore
Now I am nothing
but a fallen chrysalis
waiting for those mighty
wings of those robins
I admired so much.
I got the beak.
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 10:00 AM UTC
I believe in love in spite of it all
in the resilience of the heart
I appreciate its ability to move on
albeit shattered
I believe in fairy tales
and happily ever afters
In the magic of soulmates
As farfetched as it seems
I believe people are good
and can get lost in someone's smile
My eyes still search for the heart
that can keep time with mine
So yes I still believe
Yet I refuse to put my life on hold
whilst waiting for love
on this broken road I'm on
Mar 15, 2017
Mar 15, 2017 at 2:38 PM UTC
Limbo
Black hole quasar pulsar star meridians oblique oracle messages from beyond the lost between the bureau of the forgotten
Dreams images disjointed some admirably projected on the screen of the mind they tell you a mystery where is the key
Like being in a library books everywhere any subject any topic whatever your taste or fancy but without retrieval how rotten
Space fascinates holds men enthralled the searching of the cosmos the whole of life it has consumed the overly curious
What I’m talking about is if you could take a meteor shower put it in a black velvet bag capture true magic hold for your disposal
Take droplets of rain speak to them and they would obey your voice become for one hour that which you desire most from life
Find the passage to the center of the mountain a gapping cave where a true oracle is beheld divine utterance her real espousal
You take knowledge long hidden disperse it among the most troubled and confused and aura breaks and arches those of need
Life’s dilemmas and contrasts these intangible twisted knotted fields of gloom you touch bows unknown understanding blooms
Course contrary buffeted by unpleasant wind oh to know how to rescind make rays of hope grow in resplendent rows
The common coal fired and pressured over millennia does purist light ignite the mind soul and heart in excitement it consumes
Striation found in the cold glacier this natural marking take from it learn the soul has divine grooves that only play spiritual tunes
This might sound farfetched but one day it will be the norm for Gods family the unexpected the unbelievable your daily life
Now we are in neutral or the drive is mostly in the natural like you build the best house then someone sticks up an eye sore
There is the contrast the conflict your spiritual house shines then your enemy self wrecks and devalues ruination rife
The spirit oracle revealed that the devil wants you as a trophy in a case how nice God wants you but he wants you as family
Jan 1, 2012
Jan 1, 2012 at 8:43 PM UTC
Pellinore’s Fancy
by Michael R. Burch
King Pellinore was famous for hunting the Questing Beast, a rather odd, fantastical creature. Does its name suggest that the beast was dreamed up, or invented for the purpose of questing after it? Perhaps Pellinore simply didn’t want to stay home and needed a good (if farfetched) excuse to furnish his wife . . .
What do you do when your wife is a nag
and has sworn you to hunt neither fish, fowl, nor stag?
When the land is at peace, but at home you have none,
Is that, perchance, when ... the Questing Beasts run?
Keywords/Tags: King Pellinore, questing beast, hunt, Arthurian, legend, myth, wife, nag
Apr 18, 2020
Apr 18, 2020 at 1:00 AM UTC
I can’t defend my actions
Unexplainable bursts of deviant behavior
I begin to believe in my own farfetched deceit
And convince myself it’s the truth
I long to retract the word
Pushing a wedge between you and I
So why am I putting this off?
You heavy misdeed did not outweigh mine
So what am I yelling for?
I fooled myself in thinking that karma would never find me in a secluded cave on the other side of the world
May all my sins be absolved
And my remorse be washed away
As yours fade likewise
And we repent our falsehoods to each other
I a, a genuine charlatan
And I can own up to that
I apologize
Now I leave
We’ll look back at this
As the time we came clean
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 5:51 PM UTC
Everything's fine, Ma
I'm just feeling a bit tired.
It doesn't make a difference though,
you know I'm wired
to committing myself to crossing fires
to driving with my skidding tires
I know I'm tired and my knots are stretched
but our dreams are still too farfetched
NO, MA I WILL NOT REST
Everything is but a test, but, Ma,
Dearest Ma, you are worth the air in my chest
The skies will cry if you will them so
I want sunshine for my tombstone.
Oct 19, 2013
Oct 19, 2013 at 11:46 PM UTC
Yes I want a ******* poem without fallacy
A poem full of fantasy
a fabulously woven fabric without a faux facade
our poems need some faeces not facelifts
fanciful fairies dancing fandangos
NOT followers of this current fad
who have fastened Poetry... with fatality
**** I'm fine with fate. But I want to be fascinated
by a farfetched farcical fable about a fat farmer farting
something that isn't churned out from this fake factory
So, to start off here is a funny poem with a **** joke:
I call my **** 'the truth', because people can't handle it.
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 7:34 PM UTC
In trails of long belief,
Of faces that one deceive,
Reasons farfetched in time,
All be wrong in sublime
Dec 22, 2010
Dec 22, 2010 at 4:41 AM UTC
These are my bars.
Limbs that stretch too much
to soaring stars
I could never touch --
these limbs are defective.
Bitter restart,
frail, powerless cudgels
grasping at Heart.
Claws cutting pastels,
shredding ****** dawn sky.
My mirror sepals
are names and faces
of all people
who met my graces
or sailed my winding path.
Leaves of glazed gold
reflect sun's bright rays
as they enfold
the sharpened green maze
in torn and ripped portraits.
Leaves of Abyss
litter my bony scars
swallow my bliss
coat me like hot tar --
kissing at dying bark.
Red lipstick stains
on switch blade carvings
of names on veins
with no callings
see me as a trophy.
Nothing of worth --
just merely conquered.
A space for berth
and his young *******
I am nothing to him.
He can't see me
as mighty Belle Arbre
or hear my plea
as I feel his barb
plunge my old wooden core.
He cut me down,
carve me to shape him --
I'll be His crown
as he is condemned
by my only Father.
That's so far long --
sitting on his lap,
dreaming I'm strong
enough to entrap
all my stolen virtue.
His silver tongue
wove such a strange tale --
willingly hung
and welcoming jail,
all he promised was love.
Something bruised skin,
cut lip or black eye,
limbs bony thin,
or tears asking why --
they've never known this thing.
I reach'd for him,
branches out-stretched,
he was my hymn,
so close, yet farfetched --
he sat among the stars.
Me, bound by dirt,
jealous of the birds
nest'd in my skirt.
They are just songbirds
but take flight for granted.
I would give all,
every last petal
if I could fall;
shrink to a pebble --
give anything to hide.
But I'm a tree,
I'm mighty Belle Arbre.
Broken, Earthly.
Yet reduced to garb,
Everything I am: His.
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 11:32 PM UTC
Swirling around in a cloud of chaos,
Of cacophony and disillusionment,
The person floats aimlessly in deep space.
Atom after atom rips itself away
And goes spinning off into the UnKnown.
Dust created, so return to dust.
The person flings arms wide, wide,
To encompass all of the cosmos,
Revel in that which is complex beauty,
Be at peace with Knowing but Not.
And the face begins to swirl
As the dust environment does
And so the person is physically unKown,
Known by personality only,
For the universe has reclaimed the mask.
The arms slowly begin to fade
Just as the face crumbles in finality;
More and more atoms flee
To rejoice in their newfound freedom
Until at last the heart swirls to dust,
Unleashing the long-imprisoned soul
To fly, unbridled, around the world—
Beyond the world—beyond, yes,
Even the farfetched, unrealized dreams.
Flying, swirling, one with All,
Bound by no chains, child of love.
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 4:41 PM UTC
That dress in black
That beautiful dress in black
It’s made of such a soft fabric
And when the wind blows
It becomes volatile in its form
O but the Goddess that garbs it…
She is exquisitely and painfully sublime
Her skin is plain white
With no imperfections
A Greek Statue might be the closest to her resemblance
But still so very far
Venus de Milo holding an Apple
Is not as farfetched as one can think
But her skin…
Certainly smooth to the touch
That would make one weep
Unquestionably would chill one’ spine
Those powerful green eyes
Would freeze you for an eternity
Slowing down time in such a transcendent torment
But you would do so pleasantly
For the price of a glimpse of such a creature
The hair that she possesses
Is something never seen
Pitch black with blue tinges
It shines so much
Because it is of diamond matter
Her hair brought Samson to life
Unbreakable, unlike pillars
As the sun rises behind her
It resembles the Lion and Sun
But so much more powerful and magnificent
The Universe dances to the Tune of her voice
It brakes and builds in mathematic equations
It is a wave so docile and kind yet so dominant and resilient
It isn’t possible to measure her voice
As it is greater than Decibel and it destroys the Logarithmic Scale.
Her hands carry the weight of her Will
Her Will carries the weight of her Destiny
Her Destine carries her Fate
And she chooses to do was she pleases
For she knows what THIS is all about
She belongs nowhere and she is all
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 7:16 AM UTC
Somewhere,
between
fixing broken hearts,
chasing farfetched dreams,
playing different parts
and
burdened by
unshed tears,
I lost
the best years
of my life.
Jan 27, 2017
Jan 27, 2017 at 11:23 PM UTC
Memories of you are farfetched
every spark is disappearing in the thin air
the thoughts of you are clouded
with other memories of others
and I cannot bear the thought
of losing the memories of you.
Memories are suppose to stay forever,
but that of you are running with the wind
why are the memories slipping away,
do I not remember or love you no more?
The good times we had are not enough
to treasure and secure them safely.
The memories as drifting away
because of the time and nature,
because of the trauma and secrets
and because of the plan and fear
everything is becoming nothing
but a picture of your face
frozen in time captured forever
in the deep part of my mind.
The memories are turning into tears
tearing me apart
and fear of moving on or changing
is all pain in vain
and I feel like I am still dreaming of the past.
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 1:06 PM UTC
I thought it was me
The whole time.… it was you.
Convincing me that I had been the enemy
Tearing down all that’s familiar around me
Accepting too much
Placing things too high for reaching…
I have yet to find the stool
You are only seeking perfection
Is that not too farfetched?
Amid the worlds imperfection?
A glory that I, myself, have not yet attained
I am only seeking what’s worthy
Surely, I am deserving of that
The enemy…
Feeling like I must conform
To the ways and for the likes of you
When I don’t even know you…
So for now on, I’ll be sleeping
With the t.v. off.
-Sydnē Deon
Jan 3, 2018
Jan 3, 2018 at 12:47 AM UTC
The deserts' enigma as the sand tells stories of ancient civilisations, and the open air parallel suggesting stigmas of myth echoing apologies of Asian civil invasions. Wealth and Wisdom buried underground to hide the former faces, and so slow paces to mirages as a Man walks the ground to find the water oasis. Pressures of wind hugging to shape into a tornado, a Mother pushes waters to save the World with a Bambino. The inferno Sun sets on water or falls, crashes like a bashed tomato into lava erupting a volcano, but still rests on the water floor. Seas and Oceans are never cliché, but I feel farfetched where it's forlorn. See the emotions in my tears coz' I feel far attached before born...
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 5:18 AM UTC
a gold hue laced the clouds in the sky
while the calm blue covered it,
reminiscent of a scene from a painting
with the cool tones composing the base,
the artist continued adding warm tints,
giving the piece a unified appearance
then i thought, "what if people were created this way?”
from how you appear and move,
it’s almost as if an artist imagined you
your dark hair lays flat but holds softness,
your dimples emerge the moment you smile,
and your lips purse whenever you’re in thought
your laughter is more melodious than a thousand choirs
selflessness is a rare thing, but it’s your best trait
and your passion and spirit can make anyone a believer
is it possible that some people were just born perfect?
all perfectly proportioned and envisioned?
with a charm that you can sense by how they go about life?
perhaps the idea is a little too farfetched
since we can never truly be sure of the process
but when i look at you,
i see a masterpiece
Apr 2, 2018
Apr 2, 2018 at 1:27 AM UTC
Rain ............ Freezing rain yet again
One of those days where the morning never ends.and tomorrow can't wait to begin . I think of myself as my own friend . I see myself often enough to pretend . I can't even kid around no matter how many letters I send . I keep dreaming a life like a tree where I climb to the top to see the end . Then it's on repeat where I fall back down again . I sit here and there in silence to mend . Before I stand back up an climb once more like I meant. On sunny days I put up my tent , because sometimes that energy , I don't get . I Kindle a fire so farfetched. That I would just love to forget. I'm not quite okay yet . Just me , my friend , and I , we've all met . and everytime the **** gets heavy , we jet. We run through forests and hills till we fall into a unforgettable pit . And we sit , in silence , and wait for how dark it can get .
Apr 14, 2019
Apr 14, 2019 at 8:47 AM UTC
I'm terrified of you. I'm terrified of the way you creep into my mind when I'm sad, thinking of you holding me while I cry my eyes out for no apparent reason. I tremble in fear at the memory of your body tangled in mine, doing what I just realized can be often called "making love". I cower at the concept of potentially falling into something that can only be that ridiculous four letter word I refuse to say or acknowledge the existence of. I don't know if this feeling will last. If it's real or just a fling. I don't know if you think about me as much as I think about you, but a good guess is probably not. I don't know why it has to be you when I know you're sought after by every woman who lays eyes on you, because you have this effect on me and everyone else. All I know is I feel like I'm finally myself when I'm with you. Like I don't have to hold back or dumb myself down to keep from sounding farfetched and ridiculous. I know I really like lying in your bed after we do the *** thing and listening to music, fighting over control of the music because both of us just wants to share as much as possible with the other. I know you make me feel vulnerable, like you can see right ******* through me, right past the facade and tricks that have worked on every man and woman before you, and that will work on every man and woman after you. I am so unbelievably scared to death of you and these feelings. But all I can do is hope to every god and divine being that these feelings stop. Why won't they ******* stop? I already know I could write a thousand poems about you. But I hope this is the first and the last. There is no happy ending or moral to this one. Just a jumbled up mess of emotions, mainly fear. That always seem to leave me shaking.
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 9:08 AM UTC
presumably I see the truth through what I seek
in which I find God
being the being,
divine.
Holy, I wish I could sing a prayer
if could sing logic...
Logic has brought me here
without fear,
oh hear me say,
that in this clarity it is still not clear
how I hold on to my God-given faith.
Foolishness being promoted, adorned man caught up in a commotion, wishful thinking sitting here with my idols, idle, I cannot move like they stole my feet, my will to live is clouded by what they say is a leap of faith...
I find the grace, I find graces
In many men and sons on this earth
for I see that man are fixed until sin seeps deep down in
but even then
God can reverse the pain our brain has made
false truths, we scream God is deranged
a tyrant that is estranged, to human nature.
oh as we fray
walk, skip, jog away
from our Lord our Father
it is he who made us out of clay
Earth Crust-Mantle and Core I presume
It's all of the Earth
made for more than we know
humans are bold
are we the savior of a universal implosion? Where, where, oh where is my soul?
Deep.
We just pop up with the stars, since we are here and lucky enough to know that we are NOT, and we simply fall back to an inevitable plot, moving to find truth and if the most Divine shows up and we rebuke again and again
our brains say this cannot be the way what is our purpose
I sure hope humankind finds out one day
with love and faith
faith in love
I know God is above,
my faith in love.
Almighty does guide me
provides me with insight
like humans who come into the sight
Omega know and hears we are here to be cleared of these sins we bare oh I care
Hallelujah
Lord almighty I know your there.
Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 1:28 PM UTC
I don't know why but lately,
writing has been an excruciating process for me
these hands don't write quite nearly as good
rhymes don't seem to spill out nearly as easy
and stringing words together isn't nearly as exciting
as they used to be
The ideas in my head sound a little too ridiculous
The dreams I have are a little too farfetched
The faith I used to believe in so firmly is dissolving
slowly, bit by bit
Lately, I'm just tired and uninspired.
Aug 14, 2019
Aug 14, 2019 at 11:38 AM UTC
When people insist a goal is farfetched,
Decisiveness prompts the will to excel.
Self-encouragement is on a mission,
Battling criticism by trying to succeed.
The world is in a destructive war,
Attacking on every side to beat success.
Engaging risks that can harm potential,
As threats by civilization conspires talent.
Struggling with enthusiasm to win glory,
Sparring the enemy through self-dignity.
Applying discipline to an opposed cause,
Desire for victory duels with a sharp sword.
The ambitious purpose can defeat the odds,
Not surrendering for diligence of passions.
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 2:42 AM UTC