"forboding" poems
Holding long to longing,
longing, holed to holding,
I ode my tale for bold forboding.
Swiftly shores sung,
ripping, reaping, revealing
I stopped just short of saint-like stealing.
Madly minutes mumbled,
syllables stuck, syrup
My thoughts no longer mine to stir up.
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 3:51 PM UTC
Go away little wisp.
I know what you are up to.
I pay the slightest notice,
you morph into an innocent, seductive puff
strutting to and fro
offering companionship,
comfort,
yes, even love.
I admire you; you gust, fat and fluffy.
I compliment; you explode into a cumulous mass hovering ominously above.
I worry; ashen gray lithely overtakes beguiling white.
Rumbling belly fills with rage and swells with forboding.
There is no longer an escape.
My thoughts
are pulled into shadow
and slapped onto earth
in torrents of unrestrained rage.
Completely engulfed, I choke, and
swirl in great muddy vortexes down lost drains.
Who am I?
Who are my thoughts?
I only have you to grasp onto,
and that is no solace.
Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 2:37 PM UTC
A band without an audience
Two thousand years of history
An amphitheater
Vesuvius still is trembling
It always echoes through time
Eternity on the run
I hear **down, down. Down, down.
The star is screaming**
It shares its greatest secrets
Its always us and them
**And in the end
We're only ordinary men
How do you feel?
And if your head explodes with dark forboding too**
From the dark side of the moon
We'll set the controls for the heart of the sun
And call to you across the sky
We end to become echoes again
Vesuvius
Still
Trembles
At the glory of our music
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 5:43 PM UTC
A forgiving grey
Black and white together sway
until the next rain
A forgiving grey
Moody clouds come out and play
a forboding and colorless sky
Black and white together sway
A forgiving grey
© Priya Patel 6/1/2015
Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 8:58 AM UTC
Morning comes with fear tow...
with what light bears to all unknown.
Had last night forboding dreams...
Hear the water of trickling streams.
This calls away the night concerns...
to what there is this day to learn.
What riddles does this day in store...
soon thoughts of life return once more.
To hear the distant spring Birds song..
and dawns that bird- been gone quite long..
with the croaking frogs down by pond...
Now back at home where they belong...
these Sounds the Farm's been waiting on.
So smiling in her stoic way-
Now looking forward to this day..
it's time to shelve her timid thoughts- instead sets mind to things she ought
Put on boots this early morn'- as Mother's calf just newly born.
A baby sprung- internal nest..
now lays down beside his Mother's chest.
Life on Farm starts out Anew with thoughts of hope and joy imbued.
All Rights Reserved * 2016 Cherie Nolan
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 1:25 PM UTC
Old churches smell of Camphor
New churches get febreezed
New churches have soft benches
Old churches wreck your knees
Old churches have stained windows
New churches have foam walls
Old churches fill you up with dread
New churches look like malls
New churches have young pastors
Old churches, not so much
New churches have no feeling
Old churches hurt to touch
Old churches scream religion
New churches whisper "Hi"
New churches aren't forboding
Old churches make you cry
New churches full of speakers
Old churches you just yell
New churches all have daycare
Old churches threaten hell
Old churches full of people
New churches full of young
New churches and new hymnals
Old churches,,bells are rung
Old churches make you wonder
New churches keep you cool
New churches...air conditioned
Old churches are a jewel
Old churches...God is power
New churches...God's a friend
New churches....rules are broken
Old churches do not bend
Old churches are my background
New churches I don't know
Old churches full of stories
New churches full of show
Old churches there's confession
New churches there is not
New churches you say sorry
Old churches...it gets hot
New churches have no devil
Old churches he is there
New churches full of comfort
Old churches just to scare
No matter what religion
Be it new or be it old
Faith is one commitment
Forever,you should hold
Old churces are my favorite
New churches quench a thirst
But if I had a choice of one
I'd pick the old church first.
Write a comment...
..
Apr 28, 2012
Apr 28, 2012 at 12:43 PM UTC
The word was out around the street
Tonight, behind Giannis bar
There would be really something special
From the bluesman and his guitar
For locals not for punters
Just for those upon the street
You'd better bring a lawn chair
If you wanted a good seat
The word spread fast and no one
Would miss this once they heard
New works from the bluesman
You had to take in every word
The bluesman was a legend
In this flawed, dark part of town
He only played back in the alley
That was where his show went down
At precisely eleven seventeen
The bluesman took his place
Upon his beat up orange crate
In his same familiar space
It was just like a cathedral
Underneath the golden moon
Quiet and forboding
As he started his first tune
The alley was the bluesmans church
As he sang to the street people
But this church had no walls or pews
No bells, it had no steeple
The bluesman sang of love and loss
Of dragons, ships and gin
He sang of Shubert, Bach and Liszt
He sang of constant sin
He looked but he saw no one
He was zoning, all alone
He sang songs of faith and hunger
Time to give the dog a bone
He played and drank his med-cin
For sometimes he got dry
The bluesman had the crowd entrapped
Beneath the shining moonlit sky
He talked of how his smoking
Through the years gave him his sound
It only took me fifty years
I'm surprised I'm still around
He sang of love and window panes
Of jealousy and trust
Of walruses and potholes
Of people turned to dust
As people sat in wonder
Of this prophet in disguise
You could see a certain twinkle
Deep in the bluesmans eyes
Gianni, stood off to the side
Timekeeper of the show
He signalled to the bluesman
One more and we must go
He had to close the restaurant
Turn the lights off in the back
So the bluesman took another sip
And grabbed a song from his minds pack
He finished up with something
Singing songs for all who came
He made them feel it was their heartsong
Although he never said a name
He sang of waitresses and barkeeps
Pawn brokers and of guests
of family and train tracks
of watchers and of quests
He finished up and packed away
His crate and his guitar
And he collected appreciation
In a two quart mason jar
The crowd left thirty dollars
almost ninety cents a seat
A fortune to the bluesman
And the folks here on the street
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 11:49 PM UTC
Like the raindrops that once rendered a kiss
Upon my dripping, wonting lips
You watched as the words formed and took shape
And fluttered gently without escape
And by your eyes did I despise
Each time that I had not to them lied
For you saw heartache in my chest,
And softly put my head to breast
To lay and weep and hope to live
The sound of my dying was corrosive.
-
Each breath and tear beneath enigma
Was cause enough for wretched stigma
Although you hadn't broken it
My heart was worth its weight in ****
And as I passed, you looked forlorn,
Forboding silence on an awaiting shore,
Pretending not to love is worse
Than losing all you had endorsed,
If fate is naught but falsehood's truth,
I'd give the world to not be rid of you.
Sep 8, 2013
Sep 8, 2013 at 1:38 AM UTC
and how we have traveled this night
how we have lived a thousand lifetimes in these hours
while they wispered in desperate quiet
we sang and danced and let our hair free
your coming home to me lover
my arms and my heart ache for you
never ever leave again
with you i sail over this world with such freedom
without you my love
i am mortal with feet of clay
pennys on the pound broker the deal
we shall pay the ferryman to take us
back across the river styx
and away from the dark forboding hills
with you my love
i can defeat the world.
May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 5:28 AM UTC
I'm like a snuffed out candle
with its smoke still curling
into the dark sky.
A wispy grayish white,
still visible at night.
The scent still lingers
it's not quite ready to leave
the area it called home.
Still making its presence known,
but fading as the winds groan.
The immediate darkness that settles
around the snuffed out candle
is heavy and forboding.
Yet its still intoxicating,
though the silence is suffocating.
I'm like a snuffed out candle
because I burn bright when needed
and extinguished when I'm not.
Like my light is for others to use
and for the world to abuse.
Nov 5, 2017
Nov 5, 2017 at 1:38 AM UTC
Lonely isle in a deep blue sea
Like the lonely child
Deep inside of me
Searing stars in the midnight sky
Like the searing scars, white,
Where the blood has dried
Lingering presense in the darkened night
Like the linging essence
Of the forboding fright
Sinister whispers burn in the cold crisp air
Like the sinister embers
In my empty stare
Haunting screams in the abysmal deep
Like the haunting dreams
That terrorize my sleep
Nov 6, 2012
Nov 6, 2012 at 9:18 AM UTC
I'd love to watch you die
To see the color fade
For all the gloom and sorrow
To drift away by day
I'd know your threat had ceased
I'd rest in peaceful slumber
I'd go out on the rooftops
Annoucing, the great fall
Death! I tell you all
-For might we once have feared
We now are given reason
To sing out on the word
The birds would sing
The sun would shine
And life would live once more
I'd love to witness death
That is, of you my foe
To see a once forboding figure
Trampled down by silence
I'd laugh in hysterical muteness
I'd shed a joyful tear
No one would think to stop me
For once you'd stopped us all
As once a last breath taken
A joyful echo heard
No more the sound of silence
No more the sound of hurt
What left would be a corpse
A lonesome, fallen figure
The ghost of all once evil
Would sink below through screams
We, as now a whole
Would love to watch you die
Aug 4, 2010
Aug 4, 2010 at 11:14 AM UTC
Dive bombers, black wings spread,
satanic angels: Two crows attacked another
broken on the long grass,
consumed by grappling weeds,
unable to fly and imprisoned within
the soft melding soil as if caught
nesting; I watched from afar; a spectator at an accident
unwilling to intervene.
Darting beak, defending itself with desperate
protests: they swooped again and again-
stukas in the old war, squarking demonically
wings flapping like black pistons geared up for death-
again and again they drilled into the world of men
boring down until
in the fading light, head bowed,
the damaged crow surrendered
and vomitted out its last stored-up breath,
shining ebony slashed, in a flurry
of dangling flesh, its life hacked away-blood
dripping from its bill-
hacked away in the cold air,
its brothers, like brothers everywhere,
gorging on its flesh.
By then, I had had enough,
I refused to watch anymore. The bird
a meal for its own kind,
soon just scattered feathers
repositioning the light.
Its darkness, once a threat,
with its suggestion of forboding
now merely signalling innocence,
the victim of misrepresentation.
I left a scene that did not truly
embrace reflection, an unusual
carnival of life and death in a city
that rejected both.
Oct 16, 2018
Oct 16, 2018 at 11:54 AM UTC
City streets
Quiet
••
(So very)
••
Dreams have fled
Naked
Dragging blankets held onto by tumbling babes in the woods
••
Forboding
---
Police presence
Paranoia
Pain
••
Becoming completely aware
••
Blank eyes staring thru the quiet streets of Night
(So very)
Empty
•
Devoid of life
••
AND WHERE IN THE STORY ARE YOU MY FRIEND?
••
Stagnating
Stench of decay
And old age
••
AH MY MEMORIES OF SWEET YOUTH!
GENTLE FLOWER CHILD EMBODIES THE EARTH!
CONTAINS THE WHOLE WORLD!
••
.••
(Can we really hope to be pure again!)
••••
Lovers
Questions
TOMMOROWS to come
••
In the quiet evening calm
I see you hear you
In the moon and stars
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 1:30 AM UTC
with feet of clay
and how we have traveled this night
how we have lived a thousand lifetimes in these hours\
while they wispered in desperate quiet
we sang and danced and let our hair free
your coming home to me lover
my arms and my heart ache for you
never ever leave again
with you i sail over this world with such freedom
without you my love
i am mortal with feet of clay
pennys on the pound broker the deal
we shall pay the ferryman to take us
back across the river styx
and away from the dark forboding hills
with you my love
i can defeat the world.
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 1:17 PM UTC
A collaboration of
Lori Jones McCaffery & David Hewitt
Clouds of grey, forboding loom
Over hillsides cold and sere
I long for walks twixt summer bloom
Under skies turned blue and clear
Lightning cracks as thoughts return
I cannot leave them far behind
Scorched upon my mind you burn
With no escape that I can find
'Tis love I crave not solitude
But love is often hiding
I search beneath my smbre mood
To seek for one glad tiding
And grant the heart my life pursues
Should find in me a perfect mate
So cleanse me of my woeful blues
That I may earn a happy fate
Yet time musts ee me ride this storm
But I'm without my trusty steed
So here I bunker down till dawn
When I can better meet my need
Fissures of red stirs morning sky
Promising me a path to hope
Upon the clouds my wishes fly
For help to climb this rocky slope.
#
Feb 5, 2017
Feb 5, 2017 at 5:17 PM UTC
Pink, orange,
And Gray;
That is the colour of the
Sky, here.
A sunset, decorated with
Smoke, and fog,
The promise of rain
Ever forboding.
I can feel the roundness of the
Earth, now;
The slant of the sky,
The clouds,
And the soil below.
How I wish I lived when
The Earth was square, when
Men were fools,
seeking adventure,
Afraid to fall off the
Corners, and into oblivion.
And not round,
So that,
I,
can fall off the edges,
And not come back to where I started.
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 1:05 AM UTC
Try to scream over the thunder
try to stay dry in the rain
this dark cloud that Im under
lightning strikes with subtle pains
I can feel myself eroding
this water overflowing me
the storms sounds are forboding
fog over an endless sea
Slipping through slick fingers
trying to catch a grip
a lonliness that lingers
adrift, a sinking ship.
Wading in the chaos
as I kick and flail
my spirit lost in seance
my preservation fails
May 11, 2018
May 11, 2018 at 2:59 PM UTC
Axis tilt
pendulum plunged
plane upheaved
when wane has won.
Incarnation cleansed
as lovers spill
trajected dreams
of somedays still.
Teetered fulcrum
down to slide
when tomorrows dim
forboding good-bye.
No more whens
just glazed memories
only binds left
connecting you through me.
Oct 17, 2017
Oct 17, 2017 at 7:27 PM UTC