"foretell" poems
a feeling
a beating heart
what more could be said about it
so sudden
so simply sweet
and that’s where we left it
with words
with glances
that could not foretell
the beauty
the sweet surprise
and together
we fell
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 7:17 PM UTC
Lay your sleeping head, my love,
Human on my faithless arm;
Time and fevers burn away
Individual beauty from
Thoughtful children, and the grave
Proves the child ephemeral:
But in my arms till break of day
Let the living creature lie,
Mortal, guilty, but to me
The entirely beautiful.
Soul and body have no bounds:
To lovers as they lie upon
Her tolerant enchanted slope
In their ordinary swoon,
Grave the vision Venus sends
Of supernatural sympathy,
Universal love and hope;
While an abstract insight wakes
Among the glaciers and the rocks
The hermit's sensual ecstasy.
Certainty, fidelity
On the stroke of midnight pass
Like vibrations of a bell,
And fashionable madmen raise
Their pedantic boring cry:
Every farthing of the cost,
All the dreadful cards foretell,
Shall be paid, but not from this night
Not a whisper, not a thought,
Not a kiss nor look be lost.
Beauty, midnight, vision dies:
Let the winds of dawn that blow
Softly round your dreaming head
Such a day of sweetness show
Eye and knocking heart may bless.
Find the mortal world enough;
Noons of dryness see you fed
By the involuntary powers,
Nights of insult let you pass
Watched by every human love.
11.1k
.
**the future is...a tornado of uncertain-
ty• a swirling vortex, in its centre is
me•such power and speed, can ne-
ver see•can never foretell, it's hid-
den debris•like clockwork, it will
make contact•by the second, bra-
cing for next impact•the past is...
yet another•wild winds that echo
my mistakes as reminder•this twis-
ter within...tearing with no remo-
rse•destroying confident strong-
holds, breaking feebly boarded
doors•can't ease the rage...eat-
en from the inside•won't stop
until...my beating heart had
died•the present is...only this
frail little body•fighting huge
battles that come incessantly
•fending off the future, con-
taining the past•not know-
ing how long.......this disas-
ter would last•but I'm still
here.....still holding integ-
rity......•still fighting this
war waged in history's
folly•will i be settl-
ed? will the winds
ever abate?•
will i ever
come to
terms...?
will i
ever
acc-
ept
fa
t
e
?
•**
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 10:40 AM UTC
right in front of me
but out of reach
windiness
tests upon tests
you teach me
patience
i’m weary
but i keep chasing
and i just don’t know
if i can reach the top
collecting pieces
of facts like rags
i shape opinions,
secrets map
trust impasse.
i may never know
the mountain shade
unearthed in doubt
from years of pain
but for it all
i love you more
you teach me
strength
and i’ll plant my flag
and print my foot
drag my wooden,
peg-legged soul
lose my voice,
foretell my wake
altitudes high
and immense
please believe
what i can see
let me teach you
acceptance
everest man
i am
shrinking
as you hide the sun
behind your back
as you hide the sun
away from me
Mar 28, 2017
Mar 28, 2017 at 4:06 PM UTC
impeccable artwork
splayed red anger
diffused dangerously
imminent explosion
take down your temper
ice it in silence
spread change
draw conclusions
inherent haste
find tranquility
in people places
abstract soliloquy
ethereal furnace
split skin burnt moments
wanderer waking
in a strange place
stars foretell
insipid futures
we are destined
for another ice age?
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 2 days ago
- See more at: http://allpoetry.com/poem/11770244-zodiac-misfired.....-by-Marshall-Gass-noguest#sthash.DX0ajG0s.dpuf
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 2:45 PM UTC
queer creature of white stone:
the spirit of the island in the head of this lion,
the soul of the natives in the body of this fish,
spirit and soul, lion and fish, mingle together by
mere wry humour of evolution’s word
we revere this beast, (it watches over us
from nine metres above), we bow down our backs,
(worship it as our exemplar): for many of us,
unknowingly, we emulate the spirit and soul
of this queer white creation of stone.
standing tall (unshaken!) even as jaundice bolts of heaven’s
creep tip-toed behind its scales and strike:
its cemented steadfastness of stone we emulate,
for through the towering grey waves of crisis, and
the threatening dark clouds that foretell our very fears,
we too, have floated and transcended and appeared
unscathed.
mutated monster – child of bad genes,
they despise such unfavourable antagonistic features
(shall it rule like a lion or flail like a fish?):
its unlikeliness of surviving, of thriving we emulate:
for this dotted smudge of red pen ink on the globe,
destined to bow down to fate – bowed down not, and
flourished.
beams of white water spouting out in a
perfect shape of a quadrant’s circumference, endlessly,
its majestic spewing action we emulate:
this island of expectations, sterile smell of success,
fate of our future in the setting of an exam hall,
(in there do you not think we resemble the merlion,
our mouths the hoses, the papers our well?)
but, oh, the merlion – so many of it –
the merlions, same-maned, same-scaled,
fluttering and bursting with imitation across our home:
such congruity, conformity we emulate:
for years of yearning to swim in the mainstream waters,
of being goldfish, instead of losing the waters for flight like flying fish,
have made us very much, about
the same.
queer creature of white stone:
do you see not how we resemble your very self,
how we offer you praise (by
lifting our human arms, arching on our mere knees,
hoisting our lowly mortal heads, surveying your colossal royalty,
camera in hand)?
Dec 27, 2011
Dec 27, 2011 at 7:02 AM UTC
I was torn between the worlds of a dream
and the awakened life
Tonight... I feel torn.. I am torn apart..
why does it have to be this way?
torn apart by time and space why?
Thiis isn't how it was meant to be when our hearts became entwined
we could not foretell that this thing was to be
Torn apart like a photo ripped in two,
one half being me and the other being you
I don't know why fate has dealt this hand
I only know the way I feel the pain thats in my mind
I see your tears inside my head
but can't kiss them away, I feel so helpless
Please give me a choice,
Please give me hope to survive
Struggling for a life
Struggling for a future
It was never clear
It was to be torn apart….
Your eyes never shine anymore,
your smiles are fading away..
All hopes are broken apart..
All joy is broken from the core.
Once I had you in my arms but you were torn away
Once I had you in my arms but we were torn apart
May 20, 2013
May 20, 2013 at 2:52 AM UTC
you met me in the most vulnerable moment of my life, i was split open, warm, bleeding on the concrete. you were perfectly aware i was a bundle of pain and fear, a creature caught in a bear trap, ready to chew its own leg to escape. i consider you more or less as my second car crash.
that one time you asked me if i felt safe with you i lied and said yes, but i really should have listened to the real answer, hidden in my stomach between all the caffeine and progesteron i needed to took for keeping myself sane... i should have said:
**absolutely not, i will reach out the door of your home as soon as possible and just keep on walking towards mine and never look back because i foretell you will tear up the fragments of my heart and just spit on them and and and **
i just said yes but i lied.
i just said yes but i lied.
i just said yes but i lied.
now i know it was all fake, i forced myself to ingest plastic and to pretend it was cake. i let you inject silicone into my heart and i started to think that was good to me, that was love, that was caring for me... but it wasn't -- it was just a sad and not so well done imitation of a real feeling which would have unlocked the doors to my body, your ultimate goal.
i was already dying and you gave me the final stab.
i hope you will never sleep again until i forgive you.
it won't happen very soon.
Jul 10, 2017
Jul 10, 2017 at 6:27 AM UTC
an enduring cypress
immortal knotted rings
until death
two as one
held breath
a contorted filbert
purple catkins bring to flower
deeply rooted visions
creativity, awareness, knowledge
enlightened fruition
a variegated willow
to drink up sorrow's rain
in tolerance we bend
but not to point
of breaking
three trees
foretell a future
laced with little deaths
cypress, filbert, willow
lest we should forget
Mar 28, 2016
Mar 28, 2016 at 10:56 AM UTC
The daffodils are springing
In the bloom, the pollen toss
The bird sway as they sing
I sense your touch in my all
Take a little longer ahhh
Take a little time
Just forget to forge
The gorge you left whole
The pavement I step, rolling stones
Each pierce my heart, the yesterday
I am not a magician neither a mystic
To foretell your heart strained desires
Cascading motions or emotions
Anticipated notions and collusions
Erosion of the past demolish solutions
Fainted resolution my contradiction
Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 6:40 AM UTC
When the warm sun, that brings
Seed-time and harvest, has returned again,
’Tis sweet to visit the still wood, where springs
The first flower of the plain.
I love the season well,
When forest glades are teeming with bright forms,
Nor dark and many-folded clouds foretell
The coming-on of storms.
From the earth’s loosened mould
The sapling draws its sustenance, and thrives;
Though stricken to the heart with winter’s cold,
The drooping tree revives.
The softly-warbled song
Comes from the pleasant woods, and colored wings
Glance quick in the bright sun, that moves along
The forest openings.
When the bright sunset fills
The silver woods with light, the green slope throws
Its shadows in the hollows of the hills,
And wide the upland glows.
And when the eve is born,
In the blue lake the sky, o’er-reaching far,
Is hollowed out, and the moon dips her horn,
And twinkles many a star.
Inverted in the tide,
Stand the gray rocks, and trembling shadows throw,
And the fair trees look over, side by side,
And see themselves below.
Sweet April!—many a thought
Is wedded unto thee, as hearts are wed;
Nor shall they fail, till, to its autumn brought,
Life’s golden fruit is shed.
2.5k
I met a girl whose name is sky's hue
Combined with a thing that has a melody to foretell
And this may sound so vain
But it rhymes her name.
I met a poet who's spinning in a far bustling place
Known as the city that never sleeps
And I feel like a star
That's crawling into the unknown
I found this someone a downreaching one
Though she's miles away, one that I never took a glance at
She'll be an spectacle,
I'll always wait for her written words
Maybe someday, just like color blue
I'd find her my tranquility just like most people do
And listen to the sweet, tinkling melody bell foretells
With the one who directs me all the way just like a weathervane.
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 6:16 AM UTC
Lay your sleeping head, my love,
Human on my faithless arm;
Time and fevers burn away
Individual beauty from
Thoughtful children, and the grave
Proves the child ephemeral:
But in my arms till break of day
Let the living creature lie,
Mortal, guilty, but to me
The entirely beautiful.
Soul and body have no bounds:
To lovers as they lie upon
Her tolerant enchanted slope
In their ordinary swoon,
Grave the vision Venus sends
Of supernatural sympathy,
Universal love and hope;
While abstract insight wakes
Among the glaciers and the rocks
The hermit's sensual ecstasy.
Certainty, fidelity
On the stroke of midnight pass
Like vibrations of a bell,
And fashionable madmen raise
Their pedantic boring cry:
Every farthing of the cost,
All the dreaded cards foretell,
Shall be paid, but from this night
Not a whisper, not a thought,
Not a kiss nor look be lost.
Beauty, midnight, vision dies:
Let the winds of dawn that blow
Softly round your dreaming head
Such a day of sweetness show
Eye and knocking heart may bless,
Find your mortal world enough;
Noons of dryness see you fed
By the involuntary powers,
Nights of insult let you pass
Watched by every human love.
2.4k
"DO YOU HAVE A QUESTION?"
her heart was a red
fire alarm
going off
with nobody
paying it
any mind
her heart was
an evening hillside
as the sun went down
the light stealing
into the ground
her heart was a favourite
pair of cufflinks
with one link
missing
or an earring found far
too late many many
years later
her heart was a lute
that was mute
unplayed for
many many moons
her heart
was a house
burningburningburning down
razed to the ground
the sneer of her
pyromanic lover
lost in the shadows
her heart was
the junk mail
that came in one door &
out the other
instant *******
she felt as if someone
had pressed DELETE
her heart was
a crystal ball
that could foretell
nothing....nothing at all
her heart was
a knocked over cheap cocktail
that left a nasty stain
on the carpet...on the wall
her heart was
a tiny torn pink knapsack
that held all
she had known
her heart was
the forgotten iron
branding itself into
her nice new blouse
her heart was
a poppy seen
from a passing train
there&gone again
her heart
full of the perfume
of memories that refused
to ever
...go away.
Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 4:25 PM UTC
seeking to post, embracing the sprite of send,
** ** oh no, oh no, my work is roasted,
thy error message says
boy, thy work,
lost, burnt, and toasted!
did not your brother William foretell,
“These violent delights have violent ends
And in their triump die, like fire and powder
Which, as they kiss, consume”
their issue, our poems, explode and die, unsent!
Can you blast us a group message, a fine line of one or two,
what ails the system this politically incorrect discrimination,
some can, some can't, it is a glitch or has our transatlantic
"special relationship" or my operating system,
sunk beneath the clouds?
Post us brother, why some of us can and others not,
post our words which you love so much!
Dec 29, 2017
Dec 29, 2017 at 4:38 AM UTC
O Nightingale! that on yon bloomy spray
Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still,
Thou with fresh hope the lover’s heart dost fill,
While the jolly hours lead on propitious May.
Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day,
First heard before the shallow cuckoo’s bill,
Portend success in love; O, if Jove’s will
Have linked that amorous power to thy soft lay,
Now timely sing, ere the rude bird of hate
Foretell my hopeless doom in some grove nigh;
As thou from year to year hast sung too late
For my relief, yet hadst no reason why:
Whether the Muse, or Love, call thee his mate,
Both them I serve, and of their train am I.
2.1k
i must tell you of this curse
that's intertwined in every verse
magnets compel, repel, and foretell
it doesn't matter if you are well
you'll always be attracted
div-yd, divided, and subtracted
resisting an instinctual urge
to give your everything, to splurge
call it north, call it south
but the words slip out of your mouth
your heart will be drawn-in
hopeless, head over heels spin
laced, maced, even some space
you can't resist that face
heaven, hell, or whatever you believe
it's stronger than we can possibly conceive
time out... time in!
how did this begin?
a chemical reaction
a little bit of passion
that just rushed in...
Jun 7, 2012
Jun 7, 2012 at 2:03 PM UTC
Hieroglyphs on my ancient soul
foretell the end of me,
they say I'll die by my own hand
when I’ve reached god status
and every knee has knelt
before me
and I have nothing left
to achieve.
This prophecy has been written
on me for many lives
each ended by a pill,
bullet, or brilliance —
I can feel it.
My fingers are my slaves
who type a pyramid of words
that'll hide my body
in a maze of booby-trapped metaphors
that no thief
would ever dare explore.
So shut me away
with my mummified poetry
so the gods in the next life
will worship me.
Let me hold the empty orange bottle
like a rosary in chalky hands
folded stiff
into forced prayer.
Let me rot away
and be forgotten
while my poetic pyramids
stand for thousands of years
in the sun.
Let tourists stand under their shadows
in awe
while my bones turn slowly
to dust
somewhere deep in the chambers
of their brilliance.
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 1:57 PM UTC
I walk this dismal dark and damp dungeon
Long dark the phantom am i;
Strolling I now take icy breaths;
Mystery lies within my realm;
Far faint foot echoes announce my impending doom
I embark upon my midnight
Echoeing chamber room
It's chains that puppeted victims that had
Screamed for their end and at last,
I had giggled laughed and touched their quivering chest
And felt their fading warmth
Then into oblivion casted they were by me
This dark stone its chilling floor
Where rodents squeek and scurry about,
My only pets and friends I know
Suddenly I hear as HEAVY VOICES of my approaching DOOM
POUNDING FISTS and swinging logs against my dungeon door and room
I curse the empending light by
Their torches casting beams
Bound from hell and its slithering horrid beam fingers
Under my dungeon door
I curse my end by angered pounding fists
Hell bound to see my end to be
What cursed blackened night just lies
A distant short,
A breathless world my oblivian beckons me by hounds
Of DOOM,
My parts be scattered h e l t e r s k e l t e r
My inners thrown upon old wooden beams above
Soon i will leave this loveless world i made,
i foretell and kiss only an empty space goodbye,
Waiting first ****** deep within my flesh to be
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 4:15 PM UTC
The Phoenix
Williamsji Maveli
Phoenix Birds have no doom
From scented snow of bloom
You thrush that serenades me daily
Would not trill out his glee so gaily,
Could he foretell his wrongful breath
Would sadly soon be stilled in death.
Yon lambs that frolic on the lea
Would scarce disport them could they see
And incarnate the joy of life,
The shadow of the butcher’s knife:
Oh Nature, with your loving Ruth,
You spare them knowledge of Dark Truth.
Creation’s triumph ultimate
Where you will be intimate
To bring the sad humanity alone,
The grimness of the grave is known,
The dusty destiny is ever unknown
the bird and beast in their elegance
Effulgence it’s all in ignorance!
Oh man, provisioning the hearse,
With fortitude accept your curse!
WILLIAMSJI MAVELI
www.williamsji.com
[email protected]
Jul 9, 2012
Jul 9, 2012 at 10:29 PM UTC
Calloused feverishly as I scatter and dive
Impotent realism with foretell signs
Battered twists and shards
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 8:15 PM UTC
waiting for the ambulance
that ghosts foretell will never come
is the softly shaking whisper
that quaking issues from
the broken
bag of bones! flop of flesh
here blood and muscle press
and in the aching solitude
of pain
the fracture falters fresh
resounding reality cracks
like this mistake against pavement
nothing peels away
the curtains of a dreamy day
like splintered bones
and breaks that may
never heal
but at least you really saw the unicorn
May 17, 2010
May 17, 2010 at 7:18 PM UTC
In Africa the lissome eucalyptus leaves
Sharply ovoid, a washed celadon,
Turn their silvery backs, yield, bend with
The promise of on-coming rain.
You taught me this
Sign, this tree-voiced prediction, long ago, among
The tenderly sloping, densely viridian hills
And heavy, somnolent, rolling fogs of Iowa.
And so, I turn my back. I yield, oh, how I yield.
But, you didn’t foresee, didn’t know
How, much later, my heart would
Flake and flay
How great sheets of myself
Would peel, would fold
Would slough off just like
The bark, the back of those massive whitened eucalyptus trunks, you
Didn’t, couldn’t foretell how this long union
Scars, clings, sinks so deep, tattoos itself so that eucalyptus-like, despite
Repeated rain lashings, leaf bowings, droopings and sun decimated leavings
My heart, my soul sheds, molts, reforms, renews itself and just as those
Sharpened leaves arch and curve and arc and sway
So I bend, I turn, I give in, I give in
To the chafing wind, to the scouring hurt, to
The on-coming African
Rain.
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 9:18 AM UTC
nostalgic realities are the faithful arrows that lead me towards that everlasting future of which grace gently whispers into my soul daily,
all of creation really, we are all waiting though, only a few know what the longings and heart aches actually foretell
until we watch newness unfold, nostalgic realities are the names of promises given by the Name long ago engraved on many of our souls before creation was told to exist
nostalgic realities, a present analogy of that which no words can ever obtain
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 1:40 AM UTC
Among the hideous shapes
you are my favoured
For the wretched silence of your scoliotic spine
flavoured with our crimson wine:
Blood diamonds
screaming songs of sirens
writhing on a desiccated island's edge
Boiled alive—
can be distilled into the language of a pledge
I hereby promise to be yours
Foretell you will be mine
Aug 17, 2020
Aug 17, 2020 at 2:13 PM UTC