"foreordained" poems
I wonder if Icarus knew how close to the sun he came before his undoing fell upon him.
Was he so captivated by the beauty of the sun that he could not change his ways?
Trapped by the freedom his wings gave him, like a moth to a flame was he destined to burn?
I wonder if he failed only because his wings were formed from feathers and wax.
Was his freedom formed from illusions and wax?
Would the outcome have been different if his wings were not faux?
I wonder if the sea tried to save him.
Did the waves try to extinguish his flames and cool his melting wax?
Did the ocean ensure his fate by trying to help?
I wonder if it was hubris that was his downfall.
Was it his pride that catalyzed his failure?
Was it simply an account of failed ambitions?
I wonder if it could have been different.
Was he foreordained to fail?
Would the sea have swallowed him had he not flown too close to the sun?
I wonder if he was ever free at all.
Did the sun capture him the second his wings freed him from the ground?
Did Icarus know how close “too close” was?
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 5:43 PM UTC
the terror your eyes make me feel,
is unmatched by any physical danger.
no height nor fire could make me shake and drip like you do
and I suppose it's not your fault,
but I sleep in oceans and mediate on dancing.
your smile makes me fear for my life
and your touch makes me want to die
but please don't blame yourself baby
for you can't be held responsible for the tempest, she follows me
and this fleeting kiss has been an unmitigated dream.
but lastly that voice
oh that voice,
the one i could listen to for years
is but a siren song
leading me to the rocks where i am foreordained to capsize
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 1:28 AM UTC
Some swain art twain
Though we art sole;
Some liveth on sand,
Ourn foundation's
Whole.
Some swain art lost
To temporal sight;
Though ourn birth's
Were matched, to
Meeteth in light.
Burst's that trickled,
Out from divinity,
Christ's foreordained-
Eachother to greet.
Strap's upon toes
Dirt to ourn feet;
Off the planet-
démodé; to
Those who
Hath gold
For safe
Keeps.
Remote from another,
By the blue polluted
Welkin; thus one day
We knoweth, ourn
Pinion's shalt be
As falcon's.
Splitting general edicts,
Trusting in God's rule;
Dying to the globe-
Blithe and mellow
Fool's.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( Filipino rose)
Mar 30, 2016
Mar 30, 2016 at 8:08 PM UTC
i.
Hallow thou art, mine
sacrosanct wayfarer;
Sacred heart, raiment
Of January's start,
Thou art the
Beginning
Of spring
And summer's sunshined arise in full-bloomed mesmerize.
The firth of thee, circulates inside of me.
O' Asian delicacy- thou art that righteous tree of
Life. For thine way's art insight's, *********** to the human thought, for thine countenance canst not be store bought. O' thy intelligence canst not be door taught. Destined Jane, O' foreordained, I knewest thee, thou knewest me, in bygone land's.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( Filipino rose)
Jan 17, 2016
Jan 17, 2016 at 12:51 AM UTC
i.
With thee I shan't
Never leaveth;
O' Jane I shan't
Leave.
ii.
With thee I agreeith
In matrimonial
Ceremony;
iii.
I leaveth a key
Outside thine abode;
The key shalt fit inside
Mine aura, thou hast
Unlocked mine soul.
iii.
Entereth in, I'll keepeth
Thou cozy, as thou shalt
Touch mine lip's, and peck
Mine cheek's Rosy.
iv.
A dawn anew,
Spiritual growing;
Pound's art few, ourn
Spirit's art light as feather's,
In the surreal, utopian together.
v.
Foreordained, stains made
White as wool, ivory garb's,
Sweet savour; a distinct flavor,
Wild Asian, unearthly station,
I'm a European patient, as thou
Art an angel, of ourn Lord and Savior.
vi.
The sky open wide
Chocolate pupil's,
Baby blue eyes;
Together a ride of
Chariot mind's, blendid
In fashion's of eternal
Afterlife;
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley ( Filipino rose) dedication
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 4:35 PM UTC
Starlight, Starbright, first star I see tonight...
We have all heard the rhymes,
But sometimes the rhymes are a distraction
Limiting ones vision to a single infinitesimal celestial speck
That we perceived to look upon first
When the whole sky has been opened as if to greet us
And show unto us the mysteries of the universe
If only we know how to read the scrambled brail that are the stars
To listen to the Morse code that the twinkling lights use to signal us all
He who cannot look at the night sky and smile to himself
Cannot be said to enjoy life
For all that is life is contained in the celestial, ethereal bodies
Not foreordained paths but freedom of will,
Life is just the playing field for free will
To determine our eternal resting place
Whether it be Chaos or something a bit more orderly
Me?...I’ve got money on Chaos
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 4:45 AM UTC
The hour: the hour was grey and heavy laden
The ground was cool and damp when my eye fell upon that fair maiden.
A collared jacket pulled up to her chin
A vague smile stretched across the ashen light as I thought about her uncharted skin.
I knew that we were foreordained to dance.
Her hand would be mine if given the chance.
The taste of bitter wine was on my lips, and someone else's hand was placed upon her hips on that day in what was a
cold
sober
October
A bell: a bell that tolls for lost souls has me (cringe) stone white.
Thirteen strikes move me closer, and I dodge each cavernous hole in my adverse plight.
The name that each leaf whispers is Crisp and Wither.
Her heroine eyes beckon me to come hither for I draw near and nearer, on that cold
sober
October
The misty cold.
The misty cold...
'Twould be a blazing fire within my bones if not for that ****** misty cold.
Warm me now; I take thy hand with thy ring that I place upon thee from the kiss of the sea.
One day I too will greet thy queen and upon her sleeve she will bear my love as we walk down that isle on All Hallows' Eve.
I take thy hand and place upon thee the kiss of my sea.
All is naught or ill forgot; for I stand ***** upon that plot that dear October bought.
Filling my head with sense and thought and hoping my love would soon be sought upon that tomb that I too will rot.
In the misty cold, crisped and withered, toiled and rot; I want her mine but she is not.
So here I am, hungover in that
Bleak
sober
October.
Oct 24, 2016
Oct 24, 2016 at 7:48 PM UTC
***Monday, November 11th, 2019
The pain in loss can be a deleterious scourge, undoing all the threads of light embedded in the heart. Who am I to contend with the ethereal tides of the cosmos? A juvenescent soul enrapt mine entity for but a moment, yet, soon thereafter, he was gone. Vanquished by the Winds of Undoing, he may never re-alight upon my soulscape; however, I must go on. Let dreams illumine the fulgent irides you are starry-eyed to see.
I must trust that all things are working out for their highest good. In me are all the answers that I seek; we are our own nexus to transcendence. Will I ever see him again? I am without certainty, but I shall arise triumphantly. Tears may yearn to cascade my countenance, but I will waxeth impregnable apropos of the deluge of sadness.
Who am I? I am the emblematization, the insignia of love. Christ truly abides within each one of us. If I am to truly attain my Apex Monumental, I must undergo tremendous sufferings; therefore, ne’er fathom that suffering is thine undoing, ―tis your making.
Press onward valiant warrior, love shall open every doorway. One day, thine Ultima Thule shall manifest itself before your eyes; moreover, the patriarch you never had shall be found in the Arbiter of Fates above. Never give up young one, for you are aeonically loved. Wisdom, Love, Justice, Power and all the virtues vested in this cosmos shall teem within thine vessel.
Sanctity is perhaps a notion, a theistic & ratiocinatively deific dogma. I fathom it an inordinately exclusive fallacy that maketh one feel holier than his brethren. Was any man or woman foreordained above any other? And if so, were they given not a privilege, but a duty? An anointing means one is set apart for a higher purpose, not a lionizing gasconade.
“He who dares to teach must never cease to learn.” It is true that the erudite has immense gift, but they likewise carry profundity of mandated travail. In each one of us, lie the answers we seek; therefore, we must introspect & retrospect in order to circumspect. We must search and seek, in order to find. Let the one who knocketh, have it revealed unto them, have it opened.
∞(Se’ Lah)∞
Excelsior Forevermore,
Sanders Maurice Foulke III**
Nov 11, 2019
Nov 11, 2019 at 6:43 PM UTC
Circum/stances (slash) foregone
circumvent forebears
circus-schisms of the forefathers
circumferences foreordained . . .
Abrahamic inferences
Feminine foreclosures
Unfabulous infibulations
Equivocating equivalencies . . .
Childbearing foreborne
Preposterous paradigm
Gender agenda return to sender
Hebraic / Pharaonic / Moronic . . .
Abracadabra
Presto change-o !
Apr 27, 2018
Apr 27, 2018 at 10:08 PM UTC
Oh, to break these bonds
the bonds and limits
set for our lives
as though some demon has said
these are the limits of your life
to make your life a dungeon dark and dank
and so feeding on your oppression
grows stronger and stronger
and agony grows as the days pass
but oh, how we have a spirit
to shine in the darkness
a light from the heart to light the way
a spark from the great heart
of the one who make all
born from a father
singing the world into being
and filled the universe
with light and love
from end to end
who foreordained and foreknew
our victory complete
and treasures of hope forever won
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 3:27 PM UTC
A complicated succubus, an emasculate homunculus
Both hollow & irrelevant, haunted by their revenant
Broken, tired husks of **** they wallow through, brace & bit
Bounded by his lust to breed, she replicates a stolen seed
Demons pass to cretin’s progeny, foreordained to homogeny
An optimist can’t see the truth, nonsensical & uncouth
But, spin your straw to golden fleece, if Stiltskin’s magic brought you peace
Your neck should wind up ‘round a noose, …complacency from Mother Goose
Apr 9, 2017
Apr 9, 2017 at 4:15 PM UTC
Hidden inside a cave
With out the slightest of chance to come out
Only to be stronger
Vulnerability becomes foreordained
When even the purest hearts fall victim
For they are easily drawn to the calibre of iniquity
Feb 26, 2021
Feb 26, 2021 at 1:33 AM UTC