"fetter" poems
..life is full of life
like a magic land full of wonders,
like songs whose notes go high and low,
with lines which rhyme to make a flow!
and whole experiences in life goes just like a wind's blow:
soft yet swift, silent yet clear.
It begins,continues and may even end well only if you put forward a virtuous life indeed.
All you need to be away from is the poison tree
which fed Adam and Eve.
Look away!
It may be placed in the center of your life too.
You may find it the most glossy and glittering today.
Bowing to this may keep your head held down forever.
Know this fact for a sinless life
All the tempting trees yield fruits sour & reel
you'll stumble,totter,wobble & falter!
Then'll you realize fasting away this fruit was better.
But by then you'll lose paradise forever and fetter!
So let us all not reach to this concluding our lives should have a better ending.
which is to be more certain,graceful & dutiful.
Cos we live only once but it should have the worth of tons
Life'll help you do that..As "life attracts life"
BEAUTIFULLY ,ENORMOUSLY & PERFECTLY!!
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 8:20 AM UTC
I have some aches that are not fiction
so my doctor wrote a prescription
She sent it to the pharmacy near
so I can get my mind adhered
I went to pick it up today
assured that all would be ok
The pharmacy tech was really nice
but said I had to pay full price
It seems as though I was denied
my insurance claimed the doctor lied
All I wanted was to feel better
but now i'm shackled to this fetter
I pay my premium; my budget festers
while the insurance company pays their investors
I guess i'll wait another year
insanity comes closer, I fear.
Sep 28, 2018
Sep 28, 2018 at 2:17 PM UTC
Thrill with lissome lust of the light,
O man ! My man !
Come careering out of the night
Of Pan ! Io Pan .
Io Pan ! Io Pan ! Come over the sea
From Sicily and from Arcady !
Roaming as Bacchus, with fauns and pards
And nymphs and styrs for thy guards,
On a milk-white *** come over the sea
To me, to me,
Coem with Apollo in bridal dress
(Spheperdess and pythoness)
Come with Artemis, silken shod,
And wash thy white thigh, beautiful God,
In the moon, of the woods, on the marble mount,
The dimpled dawn of of the amber fount !
Dip the purple of passionate prayer
In the crimson shrine, the scarlet snare,
The soul that startles in eyes of blue
To watch thy wantoness weeping through
The tangled grove, the gnarled bole
Of the living tree that is spirit and soul
And body and brain -come over the sea,
(Io Pan ! Io Pan !)
Devil or god, to me, to me,
My man ! my man !
Come with trumpets sounding shrill
Over the hill !
Come with drums low muttering
From the spring !
Come with flute and come with pipe !
Am I not ripe ?
I, who wait and writhe and wrestle
With air that hath no boughs to nestle
My body, weary of empty clasp,
Strong as a lion, and sharp as an asp-
Come, O come !
I am numb
With the lonely lust of devildom.
****** the sword through the galling fetter,
All devourer, all begetter;
Give me the sign of the Open Eye
And the token ***** of thorny thigh
And the word of madness and mystery,
O pan ! Io Pan !
Io Pan ! Io Pan ! Pan Pan ! Pan,
I am a man:
Do as thou wilt, as a great god can,
O Pan ! Io Pan !
Io pan ! Io Pan Pan ! Iam awake
In the grip of the snake.
The eagle slashes with beak and claw;
The gods withdraw:
The great beasts come, Io Pan ! I am borne
To death on the horn
Of the Unicorn.
I am Pan ! Io Pan ! Io Pan Pan ! Pan !
I am thy mate, I am thy man,
Goat of thy flock, I am gold , I am god,
Flesh to thy bone, flower to thy rod.
With hoofs of steel I race on the rocks
Through solstice stubborn to equinox.
And I rave; and I **** and I rip and I rend
Everlasting, world without end.
Mannikin, maiden, maenad, man,
In the might of Pan.
Io Pan ! Io Pan Pan ! Pan ! Io Pan !
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I broke the spell that held me long,
The dear, dear witchery of song.
I said, the poet's idle lore
Shall waste my prime of years no more,
For Poetry, though heavenly born,
Consorts with poverty and scorn.
I broke the spell--nor deemed its power
Could fetter me another hour.
Ah, thoughtless! how could I forget
Its causes were around me yet?
For wheresoe'er I looked, the while,
Was nature's everlasting smile.
Still came and lingered on my sight
Of flowers and streams the bloom and light,
And glory of the stars and sun;--
And these and poetry are one.
They, ere the world had held me long,
Recalled me to the love of song.
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Beside the ungathered rice he lay,
His sickle in his hand;
His breast was bare, his matted hair
Was buried in the sand.
Again, in the mist and shadow of sleep,
He saw his Native Land.
Wide through the landscape of his dreams
The lordly Niger flowed;
Beneath the palm-trees on the plain
Once more a king he strode;
And heard the tinkling caravans
Descend the mountain-road.
He saw once more his dark-eyed queen
Among her children stand;
They clasped his neck, they kissed his cheeks,
They held him by the hand!
A tear burst from the sleeper’s lids
And fell into the sand.
And then at furious speed he rode
Along the Niger’s bank;
His bridle-reins were golden chains,
And, with a martial clank,
At each leap he could feel his scabbard of steel
Smiting his stallion’s flank.
Before him, like a blood-red flag,
The bright flamingoes flew;
From morn till night he followed their flight,
O’er plains where the tamarind grew,
Till he saw the roofs of Caffre huts,
And the ocean rose to view.
At night he heard the lion roar,
And the hyena scream,
And the river-horse, as he crushed the reeds
Beside some hidden stream;
And it passed, like a glorious roll of drums,
Through the triumph of his dream.
The forests, with their myriad tongues,
Shouted of liberty;
And the Blast of the Desert cried aloud,
With a voice so wild and free,
That he started in his sleep and smiled
At their tempestuous glee.
He did not feel the driver’s whip,
Nor the burning heat of day;
For Death had illumined the Land of Sleep,
And his lifeless body lay
A worn-out fetter, that the soul
Had broken and thrown away!
2.5k
Some are cast in metal
others chipped from stone
yet more are shaped by hand in clay
what you sculpt, you own.
When your arms wrapped around me
I felt a process start
to render me defenceless
'gainst your sacred art.
I yielded to your motion
gave my skin up to the blade
had no cause to resist
the image you had made.
My essence pooled in trickles
flooding indents as you pressed
your fingertips into my flesh
there in rapture, I was blessed.
I yearned to feel the chisel
every scrape an evolution
each fetter of the holy rasp
my growing absolution.
I stand in gleaming marble
posed by you alone
forever on this pedestal
inert upon my throne.
In fatal love I slumber
and wishes are for fools
in luminescent, aching stone
naked of your tools.
Each tapping point a petal,
the slamming maul of lust
where once caressed by chisels
now I gather dust.
I dream of you approaching
to polish me anew
so I may shine in constant thanks
at being made by you.
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 11:34 AM UTC
Competition should FETTER among the animals of jungle only
Because when it comes to humans they make it JUNGLY
STUDENTS competes with each other to get 1st rank
Other completes in flowing river to hold the plank...
When Envy plays in the cradle of competition then,
A sister crushes WISHES of her sister
A brother knowingly pushes his brother into DEBT
Not the every deed is the demand of your soul , except SERENITY
All those NASTY Things is the greed of your body.......
Before sleeping faces of betrayal, deceive & lies,
Appears right before my EYES .
They left me in trouble, but promises to help others
Declaring themselves a social reformer, a new THINKER .
CHARITY begins at home didn't they learn !!
Even after all this I want to embrace them ,
Ready to forgive putting my dignity at STAKE .
BUT they'll are enjoying without even realising their MISTAKES
Competition always takes place at the cost of one's life
Whether it's an animal at JUNGLE or animals at HOME .....
May 29, 2021
May 29, 2021 at 2:27 PM UTC
no matter how far I've come
how much I've been doing better
I always return and succumb
to this deep and chronic fetter
the darkness slowly creeps back in
too tired, to scared, to restless
maggots wriggling under my skin
psyche becoming monstrous
I know the feeling all too well
like an old friend I can't let go
encasing me in a protective shell
personally fitted not to show
I find I've changed drastically
yet still not much at all
just a child dreaming fantastically
a forest fairy in the fall
the more I learn to love myself
the less I'm fond of others
a dress up doll atop a shelf
with poor emotional buffers
I wonder what it's like to live
as oblivious as you are
what it feels like not to give
your years to itchy scars
Nov 2, 2022
Nov 2, 2022 at 2:24 AM UTC
Though I am bold and young at heart,
Tempered by the varied winds,
I must not forget
What I gleaned from your eyes
As you peered into mine
I saw you.
The taste of lime and dim light
Fetter as I took you away from the crowd
From strangers to lovers,
We came and went,
Our fondness disheveled covers
Subtext, riddles through course encounters
I lay alone those nights and reminisced
The touch I sought was yours
Periodic formal dinners
Gave way to more late nights as
Friends followed the informal
And soon, no secret
I see our friends come and go,
But we, we never leave.
On crowded sunlit beaches
With the rest
We step on rocky sand
I take you for granted
Juggling careers,
Dreams we dreamt since we were kids
It all falls short of machinations
But that which stays had no division
Rarely speaking
Those words which grow ill with repetition
As we grow together in flore
Now dim lights keep the flowers by your bedside table
Subtle patter of branches against a doctor’s window
Is all I hear against the swell of loss
I see me old, but still young at heart,
Weakened by the varied winds,
And I never forgot
What I gleaned from your eyes
As you peered into mine
What I know is I’d love you
Worthily through life
And, as life leaves, preserve it
I see it in your eyes
Dec 3, 2012
Dec 3, 2012 at 1:08 AM UTC
It's true that they belong together
Freedom is just another word for fetter
To have it all and have no better
That is life's eternal weather.
It's true that meaning is lost in translation
Because no one cares to hear your explanation
As they hear the words that befits your station
And you've learned to speak as befits your subordination
It's true that there is nothing to thought
Poring out without a clot
Yet will never reach the point it ought
Instead used and swayed as they are bought
It's true that pain is just a stern friend
While hope just leaves you in the end
Pain's **** is the advice he'll lend
Which you should heed or another he'll send
It's true that there is fault in truth
Like beauty blunted by its youth
The horror of it was its proof
While a fraction of it still lies aloof.
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 3:15 AM UTC
If by dull rhymes our English must be chain'd,
And, like Andromeda, the Sonnet sweet
Fetter'd, in spite of pained loveliness;
Let us find out, if we must be constrain'd,
Sandals more interwoven and complete
To fit the naked foot of poesy;
Let us inspect the lyre, and weigh the stress
Of every chord, and see what may be gain'd
By ear industrious, and attention meet:
Misers of sound and syllable, no less
Than Midas of his coinage, let us be
Jealous of dead leaves in the bay wreath crown;
So, if we may not let the Muse be free,
She will be bound with garlands of her own.
1.9k
The room was clouded with wisps of smoke, the smell of cheep tobacco mixing with the foul fetter of Budweiser's.
Heavy boots crowded the compact living room, some pacing on the floor, others resting on stools, and one certain pair standing on the couch. As the evening waned, their owners smoked and drank and composed.
The fan droned on above the huddle of men, attempting to counter-act the thick, humid air and suffocating clouds of smoke.
Likewise, the window hung open, a slight breeze entering in, attempting to remind the men that outside there was spring. However, not even the sweet smell of growing grass and greening pine trees could awaken the thinking mass of musicians.
Under the soft whirring of the fan hummed a gentle strum of acoustic guitars, two were in sync, one was free to do what he pleased.
At first the song was melancholy, an almost sickening minor protruding through the chords.
However, the two guitars which played this mournful tune were soon over-ruled by the lone guitar, this guitar introducing an almost ****** tune, sweet with lively colors, walks in the park; moody with aromatic evenings spent in wild-flower fields and peaceful nights sitting by the river, fishing and playing Texas Hold'em for pennies.
This strum of chords soon awakened the other musicians and as their ears perked up to the sound their eyes fell upon the man, the man with the boots that stood on the couch.
As the groups' gaze circled onto the man, he finished with a lulling C sharp minor and pulled the smoldering cigarette from his mouth, cocking his head towards the men and smirking ever so slightly as he proclaimed in his proud, deep, southern accent, an eyebrow raising to mark their heedfulness, "And there, gentlemen, is true music."
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 12:02 PM UTC
I write "you exist"
on the fragility of my wrist
because I need to remind myself
that this isn't a nightmare
and life has good parts too.
I need these words to fetter me
as if I were something solid
because I haven't felt that lately
I am the dead leaf
detached from branches
broken off from life
I am the echo in the mountain
too late
belonging to no one
I am the carving on the tree trunk
a reminder of a love already gone
fading, unnoticed
I am the falling star
burning, blazing
dead a million years.
I am nothing
but I exist.
I exist.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 8:07 AM UTC
You’ve got some new ***** you think is better,
She’s a second rate version of me, doll.
She’s not your freedom, she’s your fetter
I’m the first edition, if you recall.
She’s Crystal Lite and I’m a rich liquor.
She’s Mother Theresa, I’m Mata Hari
I’m a solar flare and she’s a flicker,
She’s a walk in the woods, I’m a safari.
I’m fifty one flavors, she’s vanilla.
But that flavor is bound to sour.
If you’re not careful she’ll turn to Scylla,
her loving gaze turned to a glower.
She’s safe but I know you stud,
you can’t handle a moment of dull.
I’m in your thoughts, I’m in your blood
and you can’t get my words out of your skull.
She thinks she’s got your heart and that’s fine.
She can call you hers, but you’ll always be mine.
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 10:00 AM UTC
It is enough for me by day
To walk the same bright earth with him;
Enough that over us by night
The same great roof of stars is dim.
I do not hope to bind the wind
Or set a fetter on the sea—
It is enough to feel his love
Blow by like music over me.
1.6k
Her laugh a winter sweater
worn and warm and soft and yet her
hefty leather boots say trust your better
judgement you shouldn’t have met her
piercing eyes and pierced nose that fetter
your tongue dumb and feathers
your heart numb
Sep 2, 2025
Sep 2, 2025 at 6:29 PM UTC
I'm fatally dancing advancing with and toward
a slow zoom through hallways to the dark room
trying to shorten my strides or grip the walls at my sides gouging
a fingernail fear of mortality that makes out the shape
of the cursive-signed names of everyone or thing ever in a
not-so clever attempt to accept the thief that's in and is the night
I breathe heavily and wide to prove that I'm alive until my ribs
touch the white-walls rubbing along in a washboard song
that peels paint like turpentine with a rank smell wafting
from the room at the end of the line and time knuckling under
the backs of my knees scraping off of the floorboards slouching across
the adjacent door frames where exit signs should read thee
forehead pulsating expelling sweat to absolve me and for moments
the room might shine and I am still
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 11:02 PM UTC
A picture perfect face
Constructed of 1000 words
Of every verse written
For you to mark your place
The paper between the letters
Is the whiteness if your eye
The accent mark on hazel brown
Who's detail could never fetter
We'll hang you in a gallery
Your brazen beauty photography
Deserves appropriate passerby appraise
Film as mastery, above the satisfactory
A picture perfect body
Covered in couplet & quatrain
In free verse & stanza
Across fruitful you embody
May 27, 2013
May 27, 2013 at 4:03 AM UTC
if i have to explain it to you
then it probably never existed
in a well-represent'd enough form
to deserve acknowledgement of
the highly embellish'd state
of your own mind and actions
that brought the mingling of
souls once cherish'd abroad
sunken to fetters of not chains
but words with meaning as
the force propelling them
paradoxical in that
propulsion is antithetical
in terms of the definition 'fetter'.
Jan 17, 2013
Jan 17, 2013 at 8:43 AM UTC
to choose the forest is to be
lost, and lost in the trees
guided by stars, not to a journey
but turning to some place worth exploring
you loved life with your being
and passed the forest for its trees;
the string of red ribbons happens to be
constellations within the captive sea
but lost you were with your own
itself ripped apart of definition
looking back, its love brings you
back to its original destination
though their signposts lead to more obstacles
and landmarks fetter into miserable,
its fractures into a blissful wonder
in place of stars for faded luster
Apr 21, 2024
Apr 21, 2024 at 11:02 AM UTC
i want to climb a mountain,
i want to look upon the earth
from a different perspective.
to feel my feet flee from under me,
and to fall -
slip -
into a lucid madness.
i want to feel no fetter
as my body folds upon itself -
twisting free -
as the ground approaches me.
as the . . .
as the sum of existence comes to a point.
to be young and alone,
and your ears just wanna ring
and your eyes just wanna close,
to be young and alone
with no girl for the night.
(born in the wrong place
and at the wrong time)
it was in that one moment
that i was the
perfect level of righteous.
it was in that moment
that my vision
found a point of fixation.
it was in that moment,
when our eyes met -
when i was blinded by radiance -
that i heard myself whisper
' please destroy me. '
these thoughts travel upon
tracks derailed;
awaiting annulment,
awaiting loss,
awaiting rebirth -
awaiting eventual awakening.
"betray your gods
before they betray you,
before they deny you
your Soul."
(but i don't know why)
rearing,
i never spoke up,
to be unnoticed is
easy without a name.
a wanderlust spiritualist's
view of the world -
to be read. to be found crazy.
and i was layin' me soul down
when i -
a nameless one -
must have whispered
' please, destroy me. '
you abided.
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 6:18 PM UTC
Who am I ?
Can I ever aspire to touch that shining spot,
Suspended in the entirety?
This base form is bound.
Every agent a shackle;
Every constant a fetter.
And 'this' the final frontier beyond which lies the ever unattainable.
I am but a constituent;
A byproduct.
An aberration.
And such shall never surpass the goal of ordinance.
Or seek to know more than that which is due.
For futile is this search
And that which I hope will ensue from it.
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 8:36 AM UTC
An infant is born
An infant is born
It is a baby boy!
Come one
Come all
To greet this baby doll
May his life be long
May his limbs grow strong
May his smiles prolong
May he have tons of fun
Out in the open sun
As he learns to walk and run
From a cherub to a tot
To a happy young colt
May his growth be a happy trot
Let him wander everywhere
Let him stumble here and there
Let him learn to give and share
Teach him folklore
Tell him tales of yore
Of both valor and of gore
Make him well grounded
Very well rounded
but certainly not bounded
Fetter him not with ties
As he reaches for the skies
With his endless why's
Teach him to embrace
Every culture, every race
As you try and keep your pace
Keep him away from Apathy
And teach him the art of empathy
And the wisdom of sympathy
May his shoulders grow wide
With his every adult stride
As you look on with pride
May your love shine in his eyes
May your blessings make him wise
May he always be very nice
May his life be of his choosing
May his deeds be outstanding
May his love be continuing
An infant is born
An infant is born
It is a baby boy!
The End!
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 4:36 AM UTC
Not for me
does the sun burn,
not for me
does the earth turn,
not for me
do the waters flow,
not for me
does the moon glow.
not for me
do the birds sing,
not for me
do the birds not sing.
We are not
a family of loved ones,
we are not
companions in hate either,
we are just here now,
may be living till then
may be not.
It’s no beauty nor ugliness,
neither chaos nor finesse.
We’re in a maze,
trying to figure out,
what’s it all about.
Some say accident,
some say miracle,
some say a hole,
some say the pinnacle.
It isn’t a story
but an act extempore,
some act slavish,
some act free.
Until we figure it out,
Let us love each other all out.
Let us hold our warmth
in our embraces,
Soothe me when
my heart races.
Even if I never figure it out,
I’d know what love is about,
You could become my universe,
And I’d soothe myself knowing you,
If I ever could.
I be for you,
You be for me,
Let us love each other all out,
Even if we don’t figure it out.
Let us love each other
So that a few more verses are born
To crawl majestically on the thorn
Of the fear to lose the one you love
To finally get bruised and scattered
Letter by letter
Fetter by fetter,
falling apart and joining the letters of past
which fell like these long time back,
waiting for some more to fall in the future.
Scared you seem,
I wanted you to be,
So you love me
and never leave,
and spare my verses,
my letters.
Promise me you won’t be
like a sun or a moon to me,
I’ve told you my heart,
Don’t tear it apart.
But if you ever do that,
Do it like an art,
Be delicate,
Pierce me with a barbule,
The wound be like a mark,
A mark of my love,
And of your move so dark.
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 4:52 AM UTC
A weakening speck
Unknowingly sinking, tottering, diminishing into an undiscoverable wreck
Much to master
Much to obtain
Infinite time, unable to restrain
Stuck in a rusted fetter
Rewriting that one unspoken letter
Inventing and destroying
And doing the same thing over and over
A constant cycle of forlornness
The understanding of perception is ideal
Something you and I can't even begin to find real
Finding out the way things tick is mind blowing
No, no wait incomprehensible.
So here you are
Exactly where you were
And where you will always be
Unless you see
That you aren't a crumbling speck you were meant to abide by
More like something precious set aside.
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 6:06 AM UTC