"fleetness" poems
The half moon shows a face of plaintive sweetness
Ready and poised to wax or wane;
A fire of pale desire in incompleteness,
Tending to pleasure or to pain:--
Lo, while we gaze she rolleth on in fleetness
To perfect loss or perfect gain.
Half bitterness we know, we know half sweetness;
This world is all on wax, on wane:
When shall completeness round time's incompleteness,
Fulfilling joy, fulfilling pain?--
Lo, while we ask, life rolleth on in fleetness
To finished loss or finished gain.
14.1k
With all the fairest angels nearest God,
The ineffable true of heart around the throne,
There shall I find you waiting when the flown
Dream leaves my heart insentient as the clod;
And when the grief-retracing ways I trod
Become a shining path to thee alone,
My weary feet, that seemed to drag as stone,
Shall once again, with wings of fleetness shod,
Fare on, beloved, to find you! Just beyond
The seraph throng await me, standing near
The gentler angels, eager and apart;
Be there, near God's own fairest, with the fond
Sweet smile that was your own, and let me hear
Your voice again and clasp you to my heart.
2.5k
After the Deluge
by Michael R. Burch
She was kinder than light
to an up-reaching flower
and sweeter than rain
to the bees in their bower
where anemones blush
at the affections they shower,
and love’s shocking power.
She shocked me to life,
but soon left me to wither.
I was listless without her,
nor could I be with her.
I fell under the spell
of her absence’s power.
in that calamitous hour.
Like blithe showers that fled
repealing spring’s sweetness;
like suns’ warming rays sped
away, with such fleetness ...
she has taken my heart—
alas, our completeness!
I now wilt in pale beams
of her occult remembrance.
Keywords/Tags: deluge, flood, rain, power, shower, swept away, absence, lost, vanished
Apr 1, 2020
Apr 1, 2020 at 3:48 AM UTC
Robot noise
Robot noise
The only sounds on Earth
are the stomp of heavy metal,
and the grinding of gears.
"What's worse than this?"
we wondered.
It turned out
we had more to learn.
The pure human had left
at the start of the new internet.
We were hybrid beings
of fleetness deemed cyberspeed.
The faster we learned,
the less we learned about us
as creatures.
As creatures,
we were captured in chains
the day we fully interfaced.
Hammers for nails before,
the sales elite saw this in store:
Stood up sleeping,
cow cattle weak to sweet lies.
Robot noise
Robot noise
The only sounds on Earth
are the stomp of heavy metal,
and the grinding of gears.
May 11, 2018
May 11, 2018 at 12:05 PM UTC
so leapness, the body healthness, deeply blue
a white cool draught of unearthly peculiar
that staggers up July, doe and fawn
beleaguered nothing(stroked with sunlight)
striped of shadow litheness jumping
frivolously jaunt streams of gold
through a barely cupped hand(fingers splayed
'pon tawny break: night and day)
those strong youths die never
live always
perfect
unarrested, surging, tendon
the ripeness of your figure is
a fullness
a fleetness
a
Jul 29, 2012
Jul 29, 2012 at 11:55 PM UTC
i believe in a story
(it is my love)
the passing of my hands through light,
the coming of slight graces,
the bended stocks of mute flowers.
my love
you are without skin,
your eyes do not see,
your lips do not kiss.
my love
i love you–
(and where
are you?
my love you
are the whole neatness
wishing within me
to feel the slight pressing
of heat beneath your skin;
the pulsed flexing of your vein
and hem. my love you are
the small darkness
and tiny quiet of my
heart to fill you kissing;
the crimped weakness of your knees,
the playing of your eyes after nightfall,
the winking fleetness of your cheeks.)
And, my love
are you
where ?
(i can feel you)
even with space
between breathing
and heat between us; my love
i can feel your someday lips
within my lips the
waxing of your palm
within my palm.
my love
(and i have always loved you)
will believe
in the story
of your hands and lips:
the passing of my hands through light,
the coming of slight graces,
the bended stocks of mute flowers.
Sep 20, 2016
Sep 20, 2016 at 11:40 PM UTC
Dear friends met through HP,
Not to be confused with antlered ones,
Despite the graceful beauty seen throughout your poems,
Or the fleetness of your fingers when messaging me.
I’ve appreciated everyone’s praise and comments on my poems,
But I especially want to thank the ones who’ve privately written,
Seeking to encourage me,
While knowing your kindness would be hidden.
It’s impossible to say if I would still be writing poetry today,
If it weren’t for your kindness.
While I wouldn’t know what was missing,
I’d likely be an emotional mess.
I’m very grateful for:
Your quickness to respond—the words often brighten my day and countenance!
Willingness to discuss anything—you’ve quickly reached confidant status.
Unique perspective on life, which I would likely never have encountered otherwise.
Genuine care for me as a person, not just a poet.
Truly, it would take more words than I have to do you justice, so I won’t attempt that Sisyphean task.
Instead, I’ll be forever grateful for what you’ve done for me, and try to pay it forward.
Perhaps others will also be inspired by your example, and welcome new poets as warmly into our community that is HP.
[Thanks, HP, for making everything from poem posting to private messaging available for free and free will donations—I might have never tried my hand at poetry if I’d had to pay to join!]
Nov 24, 2018
Nov 24, 2018 at 6:25 AM UTC