"firmest" poems
Let me be your Isis
I'll scavenge the land for the pieces of you they've stolen
and fit each and every piece back together with delicate fingers
Your kintsugi astounds me, each and every break so beautiful
It is not my reflection I admire as my eyes dwell along and ride
the golden rivers you try and keep from me
Let me be your Isis
let me see the melancholy spill from your eyes
the snap of your spirit when my words are like sin
I am not perfect, and I will drown in my folly like gin
down my father's throat
my father does not know how to swim.
But your pain is like a gasp of breath sometimes
when it reminds me that you are of the firmest birch tree
your bark does not bend to just any wind
and the symphony of susurrus that accompanies the midnight
breeze, escaping the ivory lamina of your leaves, each note
leaping off of every blade like a dancer,
are NOT composed by just any sultry sylph
Let me be your Isis
Be my Osiris, a masterpiece
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 9:50 AM UTC
She's in a constant state of comfort, pure bliss
Knowing she wouldn't be pricked by a thorn,
If it wasn't for the smell of rizq colouring His roses
She's in a constant state of purity
As His clouds turn into heavy storms above her head
Gently rinsing away the bad, returning her only for the good
She's in a constant state of obedience,
As gratefully awake she is
Her eyes let go of tears with utmost ease
Honoured, they fall and sink into the lowest of grounds
Only to join His droplets of rain, humble, in their firmest sujood
Jan 10, 2022
Jan 10, 2022 at 5:11 PM UTC
When some proud son of man returns to earth,
Unknown to glory, but upheld by birth,
The sculptor’s art exhausts the pomp of woe
And storied urns record who rest below:
When all is done, upon the tomb is seen,
Not what he was, but what he should have been:
But the poor dog, in life the firmest friend,
The first to welcome, foremost to defend,
Whose honest heart is still his master’s own,
Who labours, fights, lives, breathes for him alone,
Unhonour’d falls, unnoticed all his worth—
Denied in heaven the soul he held on earth:
While Man, vain insect! hopes to be forgiven,
And claims himself a sole exclusive Heaven.
Oh Man! thou feeble tenant of an hour,
Debased by slavery, or corrupt by power,
Who knows thee well must quit thee with disgust,
Degraded mass of animated dust!
Thy love is lust, thy friendship all a cheat,
Thy smiles hypocrisy, thy words deceit!
By nature vile, ennobled but by name,
Each kindred brute might bid thee blush for shame.
Ye! who perchance behold this simple urn,
Pass on—it honours none you wish to mourn:
To mark a Friend’s remains these stones arise;
I never knew but one,—and here he lies.
4.4k
1205
Immortal is an ample word
When what we need is by
But when it leaves us for a time
’Tis a necessity.
Of Heaven above the firmest proof
We fundamental know
Except for its marauding Hand
It had been Heaven below.
2.6k
279
Tie the Strings to my Life, My Lord,
Then, I am ready to go!
Just a look at the Horses—
Rapid! That will do!
Put me in on the firmest side—
So I shall never fall—
For we must ride to the Judgment—
And it’s partly, down Hill—
But never I mind the steeper—
And never I mind the Sea—
Held fast in Everlasting Race—
By my own Choice, and Thee—
Goodbye to the Life I used to live—
And the World I used to know—
And kiss the Hills, for me, just once—
Then—I am ready to go!
2.3k
The firmest handshake
I've ever felt
Was that of a woman with
Only three fingers left
On her
Hand.
The biggest person I know
Is about the same hight as
His wheelchair.
His life is a richer one
Than mine will ever be.
Because he makes it so.
What worries do I have?
Yet some days are heavy.
I suppose being born
Unimpaired and staying so
Is an impairment at times
In itself.
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 6:15 AM UTC
How fast fade most pinkest trees
How digits dance 'neath Catalpa breeze
Ignoring last October's deadest death
They arrived on time then took last breaths
Scattered seeds among their foes
Had no need of planting earthen work
As cycles shadow ploughman's dream
The fickle fruitless cherry grows
He rode rough crests over wildest waves
His ship stayed unsunk under skinny toil
His family landed and held holiest hope
Now blossom buds over grassy graves
Darkness darkened darkest health
Metal sheets broke bones full force
Lungs would not get the care of air
But hours still channeled wisdom wealth
She bent the knee for sacred loves
She scraped it on the firmest strife
Her pies nor pulchritude but soul inspired
Now stillness stays beneath starry moves
When bloodiest blood ****** didn't produce
It drained itself from veins and strained
Veiling valleys making mountains make-believe
But sharpest tongue emptiness refused
What meagre maggots worthless worms
Are those of us who never yearn!
We rarely learn to live so well as they
Who gave us genes and grace and days
All I offer oft only when I try and I work
Nothing else can I do nor more can I hope
This most modest shallowest honor to give
Of them in springtime remembering is
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 12:00 PM UTC
It is here where full folly and neglect,
born of a passionate quest for gain,
unraveled itself with mistied knots,
and toiling so, so did toil in vain.
Beginning with void, proceeded with care,
til time unleashed his urgency bold,
and climax's self - imposed descent,
ended with a void that was tenfold.
And hence a masked soul now does wander alone,
no longer searching the fairies' famed path,
nor leaping up for what some still call joy,
nor bothered by what some still call wrath.
Expectant anon of nothing,
but the passage of another day,
even minded and completely numb,
with nothing that it must do or say.
'Cept spare for it's own self inspection,
and temperance of it's own dry eye,
resolution built deep in a stone foundation,
with a permit,(perhaps), for only a sigh.....
when the stars have been stolen by the moon,
and departed altogether; the dimmest of nights,
for this is when memory comes to visit,
and the stoic and romantic fight their fights.
Until the sun grants the firmest victory,
to the mind, over heart; ...control,
and then rising without the need of courage,
To place the mask back on it's soul.
Jul 3, 2012
Jul 3, 2012 at 9:46 PM UTC
There was no hope
for Dubliner Dedalus:
a shift from naturalism
into the bizarre
Not enough to effuse
or diffuse: a hero
in the firmest sense
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 10:45 AM UTC
Woman! experience might have told me
That all must love thee, who behold thee:
Surely experience might have taught
Thy firmest promises are nought;
But, plac’d in all thy charms before me,
All I forget, but to adore thee.
Oh memory! thou choicest blessing,
When join’d with hope, when still possessing;
But how much curst by every lover
When hope is fled, and passion’s over.
Woman, that fair and fond deceiver,
How prompt are striplings to believe her!
How throbs the pulse, when first we view
The eye that rolls in glossy blue,
Or sparkles black, or mildly throws
A beam from under hazel brows!
How quick we credit every oath,
And hear her plight the willing troth!
Fondly we hope ’twill last for ay,
When, lo! she changes in a day.
This record will for ever stand,’
“Woman, thy vows are trac’d in sand.”
1.3k
allow me the great oppurtunity to bless ya heart with peace
take ya soul on a journey of freedom, understanding, and ease
let me travel ya mind read ya every thought and comfort your cerebellum
every bad past thought let me use all my power to shred them
let me erase any thought of ambiguity
put in your mind a thought of us and you only think longevity
can i give you my heart for the knowings of your every thought
i will allow you to be my teacher because i want to be taught
you see im no regular A.G that wants to feel between ya thighs
get entwined and let my fingers ****** deep inside
i prefer to rub your head on a rainy day
look you straight in your eyes with the most firmest face
and say baby what r you thinking whats in your head
rather than how bout i take you to my crib you strip and jump in my bed
i prefer to stare you down and strip you bare
undress myself and we go there
i want to dive deep into ya ocean
swim all strokes until i cant no more to your waves motion
no im not talking bout whats below your waste
but what is behind ya face
i want to get to know you on a intellectual level no matter how long it take
can i get engaged to your mind and marry your every thought
travel through ya pains sorrows fantasies and just get lost
i want to lick and carress in every crevice of your mind frame just to have a taste of your imagination
and after i have learned ya mind then i will explore your bodies temptation
Oct 21, 2011
Oct 21, 2011 at 10:35 PM UTC
the leaden
wetness of an
October snowfall
cloaks branch
and bough
of woefully
laden
trees
the pressing
mass
a weighty
strain
prostrates
mighty
hardwoods
to autumns
cold ground
as a
truculent
Nor'Easter
claws its way
through
the uneasy
Mid-Atlantic
night,
the crash of
creaking
maples and
popping oaks
persistently
echo through
the black
woods of
this
trembling
evening
power flickers
perplexed grids
go down
extinguishing
the warmth of
suburban
house lights
the growing
aggregation
of crushing
pressure
on tensile
taxed
branches
snaps
the firmest
wood
an
incessant
barrage
of
thumps
and
dings
splatter
against
the
house
while the
shuddering
uncertainties
of frightened
children
rise
as each
limb
clatters
to
earth
our
cowering
bivouac
draws
the
incessant
fire
of a
harassing
fusillade
from
legions
of
invisible
snipers
as
swooping
gusts
threaten to
relieve more
arboreal
tension
praying
limbs
fail
to pierce
the safety
of thinly
tiled
roofs
our
abiding
hope
remains to
escape
the
next
random
blow
of fate
the
night of
falling trees
stirs our
sleepy
hamlet
from an
uneasy
midnight
slumber
10/29/11
Oakland
jbm
Nov 8, 2011
Nov 8, 2011 at 9:38 PM UTC
I know I don't tell you enough, that you sustain me
and allow me to breathe.
You are my shepherds warning and the peck on my cheek goodnight.
Your the heartening wholesome warmth at the rear of my mind.
Your arms are a welcoming sunrise after the night is endless,
and an immortal nightmare has descended.
I take you for granted like my drawn breath,
In the same way I know one second without you would result, in instant death.
You let me put my head on your shoulder,
when sticky shadows engrave themselves like tattoos on my skin
and leave a trail to follow that is the ugly stench of my sin.
I am forever indebted to you, for your constant stream of faith
Even when the firmest believers, suitcases in hand wordlessly have fled the state.
I offer you my little words of gratitude, though I know it will never be enough
to the love that you've bestowed on me.
The love I did not earn yet you gave, as you picked me up and dusted me down and sent me out to believe.
Aug 27, 2013
Aug 27, 2013 at 2:24 PM UTC
A misplaced youth
My first original rhyme –
take a “truck” drop the head and add an eff –
was hand-me-down crude,
not clever,
but how clever can you be
at four years old?
The chilly blush of it still brings
out a ringing
sound of one hand clapping
against my cheek;
then comes the deflating bawl
from pouchy flesh instantly un-stuffed
of its squirrely giggles and glee.
It put me off cheap sing-song thrills
for decades.
Same age, different flaws:
Can you be too young to develop
a finely tuned sense of entitlement
and the firmest conviction
for redistributing misbegotten wealth?
If anyone deserved a raggedy toy –
don’t call it a doll –
mouse-eared and with cherry-red shorts
cheerily poking out
of a tinsel-topped Christmas stocking,
it was me, not her.
Maybe Santa was suffering
from dementia,
or forgot his reading glasses.
I wasn’t smart enough yet
to cover my tracks,
and I didn't know any fences;
it’s hard to deny a crime
when you’re hugging the goods.
Skip ahead a few years,
and after the regular Sunday
indoctrinations of an uncharitably
faith-based brand of hero-worship,
there are all the tell-tale signs
of a sleep-sick heart
with an over-simplified world view
married to a messiah complex.
Is it normal to dream
of oneself, small but magnificently armored,
supplanting Michael
as the head of that goodly Host
driving out the evil legions?
At least I knew how to side with a winner
back then.
I also dreamed Gulliver-like,
I had been roped down to my bed
by a clutch of creepy-crawly bugs,
and in a tiny voice I could barely make out,
their spokes-beetle cried up to me:
“There will come a time
when the time finally comes,
and when it does
you’ll smack its self-satisfied face
for keeping you
waiting so long.”
My hand's always poised above the clock.
Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 6:34 AM UTC
*Hey Christian state why do we perpetuate the hate?
We use tools of death to blow out the light of another man's breath
What about what we heard about people being murdered
From the one you represent with a celebration of Advent?
How can we follow him yet **** on the whim
Of powerful men who tell us what to do
It is clear that your peacemaker came to world to be a changer
Of the hearts of evil men to warn them of their sin
Yet we **** and **** never thinking of his will
That you pray be done in the name of the one
That you claim to worship while refusing the courtship
Of those who want peace bringing to earth a new lease
On life by allowing love to flourish instead we are seen to brandish
Other wordly weapons of destruction contributing to man's dysfunction
In his relationship with a higher power that has so clearly tried to shower
A message of love and peace yet our militaristic actions never cease
We want to go to heaven but our actions serve to unleaven
Our rise to a higher level of being blinded by lies the truth we are not seeing
I don't blame your patriotic thought you don't know what corruption has wrought
Over the years in a quest for power we want our enemies to cower
In the face of our national interest which conflicts with reality's firmest
Wish for mankind to come together and shed our fears of one another
Do you think God is only on our side someone is taking us for a ride
This supposed God is there for all even the man you desire to fall
I know it is confusing but there is no excusing
That the horror of it all is suppressed as we believe our cause is blessed
But the word was for all men, re-read the book you defend
It is clear what was meant don't try to circumvent
The Sermon on the Mount, Jesus brings the world to account
For actions that harms others so don't **** them, they are your brothers
You don't even have to believe in him or any other legend
To know the message is true yet so many speak but cannot do
It's time for a new day where our needs are not in the way
Of others who also want love from your supposed Lord above
If you believe he knows everything we do then it is not too late to start anew
Regardless of belief we must work with each other and not force them to run for cover
From bombs raining down from a nation wearing a crown
Of belief in the almighty causing Christianity to be unsightly
To others who wonder about us and how we can ignore Jesus
And his message of love and peace it is time for hostilities to cease*
Feb 12, 2012
Feb 12, 2012 at 11:47 AM UTC
The first time I saw
Betty Grater swoon
and heard Ms Arnault sigh
in expectation
I knew I had found the answer
that all young men seek
Instead of good looks
and the scent of money
I realized that the tippled sound of Thomas,
the piston drive of Cummings,
or shroud and mystery of Rimbaud
could accomplish what fumbling
postures never could
They could make a button come
undone and stay that way
part a leg and have it
remain languid
see an arm brushed
and not pulled back
Ah, but women are not
so easily wooed
You see, poetry is but a beginning
once is never sufficient
and Cyrano found
he was forced to return
and return
to keep those fires burning
Soon you discover it is not enough
to merely sing another’s tune
and you must learn the art
whose muse is not so
easily tamed
So the new poems to Emily or Mary Lou
are steeped in ignorance, stumbling tongue
and emotion that knows only extreme
a Dickinson hodgepodge of flowers,
spring-rain and metaphor trampled
by testosterone expectation
And as these women grow
you discover the magic is fading
that they have learned these lures
and their virtue will not part quite so easy
Ah, but art is ever inventive
and for those hard to dissemble
there are the more obscure songs
of Baudelaire, Jefferson and Yeats
these will free even the firmest
of corset-strung objections
But to truly reach the promised land
there is need to create one’s own
to wrestle the evening with nature’s muse
and tease a line between the sheets
Then, if you've still a mind
you can glance to see
if her clothes have been shed
But the sad and beautiful truth
is that poetry’s muse will suffer no others
rarely will that graceful form stay the course
she will leave to find yet another
that can keep them
coming
May 17, 2013
May 17, 2013 at 12:28 PM UTC
Adorable, black furry divine
With soft coat, shining so fine
Barely two and half months old
Brought it home on wintry cold.
His eyes beholding, sparkling,
He in our arms cosily cuddling,
His drowsy yawns enthralling
His movements, cries marveling.
Five months puppy soon
Heaven sent, a real boon
Friendly, graceful and playful
Muscular and very powerful.
Mood enhancer, happiness bringer
Our canine aptly named Winner
Furry pawed, with a furry exterior
Beneath, an utterly amazing interior.
Well bred, well trained, a looker
Loyal, gentle, handsome Winner
Symbol of trust and patience
Furry friend known for jubilance.
Winner's choice, my little boy
Forever running, jumping, to enjoy
Both definitely each other's toy
And undoubtedly each other's joy.
Nose driven, very nice napper
Waggy tailed, insect inspector
Nimble footed, munchy muncher
Winner, entertainer and energizer,
Hanging ears, so sensitive
Eyes expressive, so active
Our hunting, sporting companion
Our sniffing, rescuing champion.
His soulful eyes, full of affection.
But soon came his health deception
Suffering dreadful tumor, infection
All endeavours for his protection.
He spoke but with passion
To who knew, how to listen
Our canine, God of fun-frolic
Suddenly silently melancholic.
Our firmest friend very sweet
Winner, a heartbeat at our feet.
His arrival, profound happiness
His passing away, sheer sadness.
Winner's oblivion, few decades old
His special memories, we still hold
He orbits in an unknown universe
In his memory, these lines of verse.
@Preeti Pathak
Jul 15, 2023
Jul 15, 2023 at 1:12 PM UTC
Creative actions are more than enough
To convince me that I am working hard
Blooming flowers prove the point
That nature has a method of showing the world
How amazing we all are.
Dedication from each of us can portray
The effort of clarification from results
Mornings of sunshine days are also great ways
To feel we are on the firmest of footings and cups
Of our enthusiasm drench us as our excitement bubbles
Flesh is weak they say but not so
Eliminate our thought process
Just leave the muscle and the bones of the plan
By any respect the job will be done
Sometimes dwelling on an evaluation is fruitless
Gain some notes in your tune
Misalign your face and just work at it.
Develop your space and live
Don't think too much
Enjoy the life with which we are blessed
Oct 29, 2015
Oct 29, 2015 at 11:53 AM UTC
become 1 whole thing and do yourself in days so filled with posies they thickly shall encumber thy shoulders and you will wear heaven in thy paleset raiment (thy face over cheeks, your skin is so a smart whisper, where i set my tingling fortuitous lips). thou art a song, from out the mouth of cherubs, tumbling into my ears and i harken to smoothly each quaking electric note of your body firmest nearly pressed ‘gainst my body and i pull you down into me. into my ocean rushing into you, and i become gods
Sep 25, 2011
Sep 25, 2011 at 6:05 AM UTC
from where's bloods coming going
(hearts to hands)
flowing clearly imagined
into letters crisp
and words immutable
they (blushing
and sundered) enamor
warmly gushing
rills and rivers consuming
the mind sharpest
and soul firmest set planted
roots down
into niggling deepness
they blossom
(those words febrile
and haught)
in my body's heart
(and i pluck
seeds from their small strong
buds blooming
and i plant them in your body's heart)
Nov 27, 2011
Nov 27, 2011 at 3:22 PM UTC
magic surly blood dank
gold flecked and musty
shimmer set alight burning
you're some copper and some
dark brown sugar
like you taste like rust
against night dear a skull
sockets brimming with ladybugs
behind a knoll
in forest deep and green sleeping
magic forests
( where fairies are still really
nice fairies with
great hair
and they play diminutive
harps
strung
with light
and dancing)
magic stirring from firmest and
unyielding repose
rise
and meet me in Summer in
forests sleeping greenly and
festering with holly crimson
Magic
you're some
thing i don't know
but i'll try to say you
anyway and i know you
love me 'cause i felt you in
between the sweltering balm
of girls thighs pliant and annihilators
(Magic surly blood dank
and glittering a bit of rough
you are like baking cake just
for yourself and a friend arrives
unexpectedly and you sit down
delighted and instead of alone
you eat and talk all afternoon
about nothing at all)
Magic
you are
like that
Mar 12, 2012
Mar 12, 2012 at 5:22 AM UTC
Dig a deep hole
bury me
shallow grave
I will not die
my soul
not a slave
little tree
grows
mighty
and brave
roots barely cover
with earth and with snow
torrential flood rains
an cold winds that blow
as Little tree pains that
her roots they still grow
unending rootstocks
take ahold of our root
grow firmest oak trees
out beyond stars
out past the seas
down we be sleeping
veins they be seeping
joy we be reaping
our secrets lay keeping
a love ever deepening
a dowsed
river vein
my roots not be waned
I bend
stretch my limbs out,
twisting and turning
wood not for burning
far as earth goes
roots wrap around
all that is found
Dig a deep hole
back to the sky
out to the sea
tears death does cry
dig a deep hole
cannot bury me
infinite stars
past galaxies
protect you from wind
my trunk will not break
shelter
cover from sun
roads that we take
Dig a deep hole
as far as above
lay me inside
find eternal love.
Cherie Nolan © 2016
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 9:26 PM UTC
let me tell you what i love
i love the firmest new heat
of Spring's body leaping
totally March with the gushed
remnant of Winter's nowless
snowed figure. i love taking
the rough cherry of life between
my lips and i shove my tongue
forking the swollen damsel
of its prime juice until bustles
the marvelous uncouth sticky
sweetness over my lips coils
her lips and every sense of
mine cooly explodes in the
dapper shade of apple trees
.
Jan 26, 2012
Jan 26, 2012 at 5:03 AM UTC
As the relentless shifting of time begins it's quickening,
my spirit grows increasingly nostalgic and ceaselessly restless.
The familiar and familial bonds forged long ago begin to grow taut
and full of palpable tension between all that has been,
and all that will be.
My mind is pierced by a dagger of remembrance.
The shadow box memories begin to liquefy and flow
sweeping along in it's wake both the sweetest and most bitter
until I am saturated by the past.
Facing what will be once more, I cling as ever to all that has been.
Moments and memories once fluid begin to converge and solidify.
forming the critical cornerstones upon which all that will be finds
it's firmest footing.
Strength, renewed it becomes easier to cast off the tension and turn a bright, sharp eye towards all that will be with the security of knowing that it would never come to pass without all that has been.
Mar 17, 2016
Mar 17, 2016 at 9:37 AM UTC
she is all things beauty, head to toe,
yet she contains a mind full of sadness.
she doesn't reply or externally give a ****
nor does she acknowledge me prying of the chains
chains of desolation she protects as if ill scar her
clinging on to the darkness
with the firmest hold
as a caution of not being slaughtered again on a continuous loop of unfortunate events
what she doesn't realize
is herself, idolizing, the depression veil covering her.
the demons that keep her mouth shut yet
continue to scream loudly in her brain.
lost and afraid in her own mind aka her death cave
her back starts to concave due to the weariness
of the rocks piling up in her, **** her not so softly
your eyes tell everything, all the pain
just give me a single moment
our hands intertwined
an antidepressant
~a.h.
Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 8:05 PM UTC