"forbearance" poems
Static, memories
Emanating, separating
The postcard- perfect
Still life speaks
From its storied past.
Invisible, to drift
Among
The florid aphorisms,
Ending in
Deleterious debris,
Aftermath of
The inevitable.
Empty room, echo hollow
Tabula rasa -
Carpet clean, quite candid in it's
Return to callow.
Consciousness athirst,
Absorbing phenomena
Effervesce, inquisitive
Ideas foment,
Sealed inside a question.
The what -
Against the narrow
Scarcity,
And fatigue of should.
A tender malleable
Youth,
Betrayed, under
An assumed decorum -
Residue of truth,
Flattened emotion
Privations of a self
Unheard;
Misplaced affirmation,
Buried pathologies
In architecture
Fear manifests symbolic.
Harboring apathy
The lunacy of pious
Pedigree,
Import contagion,
Fetters of benignity
Doubt and indecision
Into ******
Cognizance,
Fallow spirits
Seep fumes of decay,
Credulity bleeds a human stain.
Social edifice, inoculated
Heirs of neurosis;
Palpable, sensual pain
And transience, though
Tacit - remain,
Our haunted history,
The blind hyperbole,
Maudlin
Forbearance, this haven,
A portrait
Of immaculate condition,
Nurtured with precision
Under sterling pretense.
Provincial domicile -
House beautiful,
Savage irony -
Unseen treasure
Innocence unabridged,
Faces, tiny creations;
Compliant vessels
Wounded,
While modernism murmurs
Its promise.
Brave New World,
In a late model sedan,
Domestic ranch on a
Corner lot,
Suburban natives,
Silence means security.
The misunderstood
Speak louder -
Consumerism beneath
Unvarnished ambition,
Never could
Repair the brokenness within...
© 2011 & 2018 W. S. Warner
Oct 20, 2011
Oct 20, 2011 at 5:38 PM UTC
There’s a world that’s ours
And a world that is not
How I wish to live only
In what my heart has begot
But wherever you are, or where you exist
I see clearly now, is where I have missed
I cannot see, nor feel your pain
But I can stand by you this point and again
There is no one that I wish to know
But the man that you are, the you I love so
All I can do is to stand strong beside you
In silence, with love, wherever it leads to
No words I have, it may never come
But know this, my love, you will not come undone
Your strength is your glory, and forever you shine
Integrity, before you, forbearance in mind
My eyes glazed with true adoration abundance
Long for your embrace even only for once
And so I remain, standing still, just beside
Not asking for more, though your love may subside
But forever, I say, I know with my heart
I stand with you no matter, how far we will part.
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 1:29 PM UTC
Hast thou named all the birds without a gun;
Loved the wood-rose, and left it on its stalk;
At rich men's tables eaten bread and pulse;
Unarmed, faced danger with a heart of trust;
And loved so well a high behavior
In man or maid, that thou from speech refrained,
Nobility more nobly to repay?—
O be my friend, and teach me to be thine!
3.4k
There's a sharp frosty switchback that never sees the sun in winter
skies of blue. The frost heave cut-bank rocks tumble down to the
side of the road, in the ice shard mottled ditch lay frozen stiff
Tall Sitka spruce marbled gray shadows mat the sparsely traveled
corridor, paved with potholes, where the roads have no names
Sometimes listening quietly to the bare stillness, there are
rhetorical questions heard in the silent reverie's say:
"Have you ever been afraid?"
The tree-line gaps above the jagged gray stone ravine, disappearing
down the rugged mountain shade, falling into the pillow-top fog bank blanketing the canyon's murmurs below — headed towards the ocean
Crystalline spring waters gurgle up roadside — out of nowhere,
where tired boots stand in reverent contemplation as it all sings out harmoniously to the trees in the key of silence; it was there
in a gust of restless forbearance heard the frozen peacefulness say:
"Have you ever felt alone?"
Gathering a deep breath of marbled gray shadows, silence bears
a loud holler's scorn — echoing back and forth down canyon walls,
with the spirit of a voice a multitude strong, evanescent
as winter's outgoing tide.
January 2019 — Jesse Stillwater
Jan 3, 2019
Jan 3, 2019 at 6:19 PM UTC
To be imbued with the conviction that empathic listening is a panacea,
by the surreptitious, murmurous harbinger and his mellifluous words,
provoked brooding that my comprehension of his susurrous eloquence was a mondegreen,
when this scintilla of sagacity left a fetching ingenue crestfallen.
By the surreptitious, murmurous harbinger and his mellifluous words!
I adopted a propinquity to this furtive, ephemeral epiphany,
but when this scintilla of sagacity left a fetching ingenue crestfallen,
I discerned this lagniappe beleaguered our dalliance.
I adopted a propinquity to this furtive, ephemeral epiphany.
When she became inured to petrichor I knew my method pyrrhic,
and when I discerned that this lagniappe beleaguered our dalliance,
I vowed to rectify the imbroglio for my quintessential cynosure.
When she became inured to petrichor I knew my method pyrrhic,
and I ruminated that her insouciance was only forbearance.
I vowed to rectify my quintessential cynosure of the imbroglio,
and fabricated a denouement to return her to halcyon incipient.
I ruminated that her insouciance was only forbearance,
until hearing her state our conflation made each a moiety of our own panoply.
She fabricated a denouement to return us to the incipience of halcyon
with ineffable felicity, and I remembered with ebullience my inamorata's words.
Hearing her state our conflation made each a moiety of our own panoply
provoked brooding that my comprehension of her susurrous eloquence was a mondegreen.
With ineffable felicity I found ebullience in my inamorata's words
and was imbued with the conviction that empathic listening is a panacea.
Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 4:58 AM UTC
You are the luckiest when an artist loves you
For he or she will make you their masterpiece
In every way that they can
That others cannot
Yet, you must have forbearance
Whereas an artist will always have problems
Something will always be imperfect
Something will always be missing
You have to know what right words to say
For them to keep on going
Whatever it is
A painting, a poem, a novel, a song
An artist is good in a lot of things
It is their masterpiece
It is what keeps them alive
And you are their strength and inspiration
To make magic with their minds and hearts
By their mouths and hands
But, I can assure you,
You are the luckiest when an artist loves you
Jul 22, 2015
Jul 22, 2015 at 12:04 PM UTC
I am sorry that I scared you, Sir
It was not my intent
I'm just looking for my family, Sir
I do not know where they went
Have you seen my family, Sir?
Do you know where they are?
I am just a young pup, Sir
On my own I won't get far
What is that you're holding, Sir?
Can it help me find my parents?
I don't want to hurt you, Sir
Have you no forbearance?
What about my brother, Sir?
And the way we used to dance?
I could not fight you, Sir
I never stood a chance
I do not understand, Sir
I am but an errant youth
Why would you do this, Sir?
Please tell me the truth
How was I to know it, Sir?
That I had gone too far?
I can't see the borders, Sir
I don't know where they are
I would never hurt you, Sir
Why are you still lying?
My young life is now fading, Sir
And now I lay here dying
But I can't help but wonder, Sir
What did I possibly do wrong?
You came into my home, Sir
Somewhere you did not belong
I can see my mother, Sir
She is in the sky up ahead
I thought about staying, Sir
But I think I'll go instead
I'm sorry that I scared you, Sir
It was not my intent
But now I know the secret, Sir
You do know where they went
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 11:32 AM UTC
Bellowing trumpets call the palace to order and servants,
Dressed from head to toe in exquisite lace,
Promptly wave their lush palmetto leaves while the Pharaoh
Ambles domineeringly down the marble corridor.
Though the floor rattles at the cries of enemy soldiers
Penetrating the once impregnable palace walls,
The mighty Cleopatra, exuberant in both beauty and intelligence,
Maintains a powerful, dignified forbearance.
Immune to cowardly apprehension petrifying those surrounding her,
The Pharaoh relies on only her brooding heart to guide her.
Though her once opulent eyes scorch in melancholy,
They look onward toward the cynosure of her existence.
Clad in dense armor, Mark Antony clasps his sword resiliently,
Pacing nervously back and forth throughout his room
At the thought of the danger soon to overtake him.
His breath hangs heavy on the seaside air.
Antony’s complexion brightens at the sight of alluring lover,
And he releases his guard, opening his arms as she approaches.
Shouting erupts from the neighboring corridor
Though neither he nor Cleopatra discern the enveloping chaos.
As Roman soldiers zealously round the corner and overtake the lovers,
Waving their weapons high in hopes of slaughter,
The couple’s lips merge together as one,
Producing an everlasting bond that no sword could sever.
Jun 1, 2016
Jun 1, 2016 at 1:32 PM UTC
the isle meets us gruffly,
ferry over rough seas, meaner winds,
bay size puddling lakes
a/k/a local flooding,
roads littered with tree debris,
all saying an uncoded message:
"see humans, you come to stay only with my forbearance"
But I know that familiar voice, disguised as nature,
a first derivative of the alpha of that god who comes,
torturing me with requests for forgiveness
I am nature too, I am human nature,
and I too,
am not in a forgiving mood, and one-word reply:
Barcelona
ashamed,
the ugly skies ease off and
next morn,
an August beauty provided
but I am neither assuaged, bought off, forgetting,
address the hiding-in-disguise master of the universe:
"*you trifle with us as if we could not count, keep tabs,
and weary be at the newest sabbath carnage never ending
give me storms, keep your glories,
fell trees, drown us, if it pleases,
we are neither perfect nor innocent
but take impotent responsibility
set us not one against the other,
there, here, Charlottesville,
keep your false free choice that
always comes with a wink and nod,
a little nudge, and exclaims of humans doing your work*"
I light a candle
not to you,
but for you
and be terrified
when I no longer do
<•>
Aug. 19, 2017
12:14 pm
Aug 19, 2017
Aug 19, 2017 at 1:14 PM UTC
methinks thou confuseth
thy heart's impatient beating
with the tremulous and sonorous
summation of the immeasurable
wail of clocks ticking, begging,
listen!
these wondrous matches glorious
arranged in heaven,
where weighty watches
and yellowed human calendars
long ago dismissed, irrelevant,
discarded.
marked full well,
they did
upon thy heart,
when as babe
you drew first breath.
when thou will receive
love's bounty,
nothing more and nothing
less.
heavenly their watchfulness eternal,
impatience does not grant favour
to love long lasting,
ever true,
even if struck anew
with first impatient glance,
for much thought and endeavor,
masterfully planned,
thy turn scheduled,
recorded, awaiting only
for inevitable
discovery.
for though the streams of spring
rush full fleshed,
swollen forward,
thy truest love is
best read in the
gentle constance of
a gentle lake's
modest waves lapping,
like a beloved's
best ring finger
stroking thy cheek
in one continuous
caressing.
need not thou lament,
nor groan
with impatient travail,
fare thee well,
for the sails,
the course inexorable,
the destination prescribed,
foretold and heralded
upon the flags of thy eyes,
the banner of thy words,
that rest prepared upon
thy fullest and hungry
lips.
chance is but a
secondary miscreant,
whose role is but as narrator.
let's him speak infrequent,
but when comes his time
to conduct his sale,
well behooves you to
listen to that littlest of voices
you so oft disregard,
victim of your willful
fears!
the time, the play, the locale
all matched and set,
now we await only
your demonstration and forbearance
to honest augur the
greatest courage
to speak the hardest phrase
e're spoke:
I love thee more than myself.
for whence
can only be,
when thou breakbeat
the chains accursedly nominated as
Me First.
shout the key out loud
In the hour, nay, the instance,
thy first believe,
then long life and long love
can then
and
only then
commence.
Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 11:41 AM UTC
she brings him tea,
a piece of cheese late morn
for he has been toiling since dawn
his plane shaving the wood reverently
the old oak speaking, though not complaining,
in a language the man does not understand
a coughing code for loss, forbearance, acceptance,
redemption, he hopes, for the boys keep coming…
first from Ypres, the Verdun,
now the Marne
before, he heaved hewn planks
for the hopeful homes, built their pantries
to be filled with the bread, the kind milk
now the sawn boards are for those who once
watched his labors, but no longer hear the simple
sounds of sanding, sawing
or anything at all
most of the lads do not come home,
their souls and bodies left to rot on the blood sullied grass
or buried shallow, naked in the French soil, but all get a fine coffin
thanks to the carpenter’s wife, whose babe was the first to fall,
who demands for them all, a holy horizontal home to be built
and, empty or not, placed gently in Anglican ground
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 2:30 PM UTC
Chemistry infuses
Grains of solace
Forecast
Passion illuminates
Forbearance wakes
Queries
Affirmation ejects
Anticlimax occurs
Siren
© 2012 (All rights reserved)
Mar 5, 2012
Mar 5, 2012 at 5:40 PM UTC
It is more than breathing forbearance, but
being forbearance itself. Like the back of my head is
pushed to the wall and I am allowing the Spirit
to push me further away from the middle.
The pyramid is the greatest source of God's Might
and is the most hidden retreat of Light: in the realm
of shapes and symbols.
The body takes on the quality of a pyramid.
There are man-made, divinely inspired, objects.
These are all micro aspects of the pyramid.
The city within the pyramid has many aspects hidden
behind "doors".
The letters and words written on the pyramid's parts allow
for the splendor of mankind.
All lights in this city get their power from the Divine.
The pyramid is the owner of Silence.
The sides of the pyramid are upheld by the
straight back of silence. Its apex is held by
the inner observer.
Dec 7, 2020
Dec 7, 2020 at 10:58 PM UTC
The windowsill frames
each passing morning
It speaks in a language
only stillness hears its say
Anchored to the wooden studs
of fortress walls
that bind solitude,
enduring all that
autumn's curtain call unveils
Distant towering evergreens
look back with taller eyes
than yesteryear
As these timeworn eyes
look beyond
and wonder why
they've not grown of age —
Time passes away
so quickly
while waiting
for season's change —
and I, wistfully dreaming
how the trees bear
the weight of the sky
Fog lays below
the fir boughs,
blanketing the drowsy
near valley fields
Where deep roots repose
in the clay of truth
that swaddles all
abiding mother earth
carves in stone —
A monument
to all forbearance,
just a mortal human
could never hold
Pensively envious
how long they hold
their eminence,
patiently suspended beneath
the nimbus rafters stay;
remaining transfixed
without a ray of sunlight
— searchingly leaning
into each fleeting moment
of unclouded sight
harlon rivers
Nov 5, 2019
Nov 5, 2019 at 1:11 PM UTC
one spoon of forbearance
two of forgiving
will give you endurance
'n receipt for living
Jul 21, 2021
Jul 21, 2021 at 7:33 AM UTC
A harbinger at a red light
Her opulent glance was evocative
At first forbearance, yet she was
fetching
One glance imbued a labyrinth
Of emotion
I felt
effervescent
The traitorous light objected to bliss
Flashed GREEN
The magical scintilla betwixt us
Evanescent
For that one fleeting moment
Dalliance
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 7:15 PM UTC
A Patient Time
A time for waiting,a hibernation
Before we follow through on dreams
Careful planning,with determination
Putting away half baked schemes
No day or night is ever wasted
Patience builds slowly day by day
The fruit of forbearance is soon tasted
Sweet as honey where we lay
Suddenly we are engaged in life
Our souls’desire reaches out
And wraps its lasso around the moment
Discarding all our useless doubts
Jun 29, 2010
Jun 29, 2010 at 1:25 PM UTC
Heed not what you perceive
Enthroned inside a hopeless dream
You won't see tomorrow
Oh the throes of woe that follow
Order and fear con-
tinual indoctrination conditioning the masses
minds exposed to so-
cietal disease and fiction, damnation
Order through fear per-
petual misinformation
Transitioning to madness
Minds explode to de-
monical seeds of destruction
The eye emblazoned
With a sonic boom
Fate spins her loom
Mushroom clouds in full bloom
They fill the room
Wrought with endless gloom
Spell a certain doom
Now they're entombed
All reduced to statues
No ones excused
Global destruction
Patience, save it, face it
You're under watch
Forbearance, inherent
Ignorance apparent through our existence
Fighting til my death
Masses rising, the
Angels sing-Angels sing
Fighting til my death
Senses fading (I'm done)
Angels sing-Angels sing
Descending into the mind of Chaos-
The semblance fades
Triumphant, turn the tables
Now wake up
Arch-angels blare your trumpets
The end is nigh
Ride pale horse, take me to the edge of celestial shores unknown
Ascending light
Ride pale horse, take me to the edge of celestial shores unknown
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 4:40 AM UTC
Mine Jane, mine Jane, alway's tormented by the gin that thou hast made; didst thou not remember from whence thou came. Forbearance mine love, wilt be tomorrow's praise,
If thou canst wait;
Hallow thou art,
Hold onto faith.
Take off thy
Kerchief,
Make God space,
To fill thy soul,
Wherein the pieces aren't hole;
What's worth more queen,
The world? Or
God's spiritual throne?
There is a preordained
Abode; Awaiting thee in heaven.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley( agapi mou) dedicated
Aug 4, 2016
Aug 4, 2016 at 5:27 PM UTC
Standing beneath black skies' hush,
cold rains' fall a stimulating touch
bringing rise to forbearance
forcing stormcells to pressured positions
above our expanse.
These words escape to nothing.
Thick air mixed in
with each vowel of smoke,
straining to glimpse beyond
those choked fragments.
I caught your shadow
skirting the edge of visions
and slipping past my bounds.
You were cloaked in millennia,
time soaked from downpours
seemingly lost of origins,
be they long past
or still forecast,
you were,
falling drops rolling
from silken hair
still bruised in memory,
forgoing present presentation
to reacquaint opportunity
with overlooked encounters.
Soaked to soul,
the ripples spread quick
stepping to the plane of...
...wait,
where are you...
when are we...
...will you be?..
...or have we been
lost in relativity
and escaping in
each word I breathe.
Comprehension critical,
compassionate clouds constantly
reminding of drowning you out,
professing this changing view
in hallowed hurricane whispers.
An angel you became,
living upon these grounds
your plague, living on,
earthly existence anathema,
each second foreword
another progression of
decreeing beating heart
a final concerto, Ava Maria
your soliloquy, serenading
dreams in a missing tongue,
with dying tone
and a pulse set out for loan.
Loneliness my investment,
appreciating until the light was blinding,
pain breaking anthems,
scaling back to feed off
what was left.
I missed our true nature until it was reflex,
illumination only brief glimpses of a passed future,
grief developing to timelines sutures,
bleeding blending was
and has,
with will be still the memory
I'm forced to foresee.
Broken in neutrality,
droplets still caressing the shadow
skirting the corner of my eye.
Your life was short,
I let us die far too young.
Consider it your sacrifice,
the reason for the crying clouds
whose pain soothes these brainstorms
vented through cigarette breaks
wasted pouring words
to howling winds.
Aug 29, 2012
Aug 29, 2012 at 6:06 PM UTC
Peremptory forbearance, propounded.
Heaven promiscuously recoiling
in Secret, assoiling attainted diffidence;
Perfidiously?
Effusive wanton idolatry forcibly
motivating outwardly,
The cruelest ugliest creation that survives.
The most beautiful creature alive
inwardly putrescent- cascading
relinquishing Evil; turning
away casting, aside Hell.
Eleete j Muir
Nov 20, 2012
Nov 20, 2012 at 8:12 AM UTC
Chemistry infuses
Grains of solace
Forecast
Passion illuminates
Forbearance wakes
Queries
Affirmation ejects
Anticlimax occurs
Siren
© 2012 (All rights reserved)
Mar 5, 2012
Mar 5, 2012 at 5:44 PM UTC