"foretelling" poems
If your silky lavender eyes choose not to meet mine
That’s fine.
Fantasies live and then die.
But for you, I'll try.
A man whose eyes hold only yours,
Sweet, lavender gazing privately,
Other sight blinded by joviality.
Uncontrollable emotion,
A shotgun blast from dad,
Deters no serious man.
A princess,
A jewel,
An emerald,
A girl.
Not an object,
But a privilege.
A man not centered on ***
Relationship not just in the bed,
Kisses on tangerine cheeks,
Through rain,
Foretelling lifelong love.
Soft skin swims,
I touch with permission,
We laugh and love,
None other.
Flawless beauty,
Like diamond,
Like velvet,
A wonderful image.
Thus you.
----Ardent Bowel ----
Nov 28, 2012
Nov 28, 2012 at 6:10 AM UTC
Hear ye, hear ye
hearken from the medieval times of old
where knights in the round once roamed
jousting with deeds fought in truth and honor
to protect the weak, the helpless, the oppressed
with an ideology lurking since the dawn of time
that all are born free, unshackled from contrived ordeals
only to soar high with the eagles to become one with the heavens
and bask in the glory of serving the frailty and holiness of mankind
Hear ye, hear ye
it’s Merlin conjuring a magical spell for the spirit
to behold, to marvel, new stages of self-enlightenment
where the essence of the King invades sleeping visions
possibly foretelling ominous events awaiting new missions
or predestined journeys one must endure to become so bold
in knowledge and wisdom offered, living in this world’s mold
not necessarily realized, instead shrouded with unimpeded urges
akin to the signs found in youth, immaturity, the close-minded
Hear ye, hear ye
the quest to sip from the Carpenter’s silver chalice
and taste charitable love for family, friends, and foes
where reckless pride and hatred are speared with the arrow
forged in devotion of a noble belief, tempered with selfless feats
where the sun rises and sets on the wicked actions of human nature
slaughtering the divine lights prematurely, locked within many souls
yet crusades against evil continues, no retreat, no regrets, no surrender
price to uphold the spirit of Camelot, payment in full, services rendered.
Jul 9, 2017
Jul 9, 2017 at 1:36 AM UTC
bowl of hot steaming white rice
faint porcelain bowl
each grain foretelling wisdom
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 7:18 PM UTC
There's no replying
To the Wind's sighing,
Telling, foretelling,
Dying, undying,
Dwindling and swelling,
Complaining, droning,
Whistling and moaning,
Ever beginning,
Ending, repeating,
Hinting and dinning,
Lagging and fleeting--
We've no replying
Living or dying
To the Wind's sighing.
What are you telling,
Variable Wind-tone?
What would be teaching,
O sinking, swelling,
Desolate Wind-moan?
Ever for ever
Teaching and preaching,
Never, ah never
Making us wiser--
The earliest riser
Catches no meaning,
The last who hearkens
Garners no gleaning
Of wisdom's treasure,
While the world darkens:--
Living or dying,
In pain, in pleasure,
We've no replying
To wordless flying
Wind's sighing.
4.2k
by
rgpage
her blonde wisps of hair riding the late evening’s breeze,
at the dark water’s edge they casually stroll
snuggled up close under her lover’s arm
as the breakers roar like a thunder’s roll.
a late night stroll on deserted shore
the dark hour’s flushed with the full moon’s glow,
barely enough light for their silhouette’s form,
as they walk the water’s edge with its wave’s ebb and flow.
on a wool blanket stretched upon the cool evening sand
alone with nature, the couple takes pause
she sits and leans back on his bare muscled chest
lightly stroking his arm with her nail like claws.
light wine and cheese from a basket she packed
‘til nature takes hold and leads them along
with kiss’ on her ear and cheek he snacked
as young hormones pull on urges made strong.
with one finger lifting her tiny stringed strap
a motion foretelling of pleasures to be earned,
his fingers gently gliding it down her arm
exposing a prize for which he did yearn.
warm kiss’ exchanged give personal consent
the ocean’s loud din now muffled and still,
gentle fondling, soft kissing, their secrets are learned.
with their gifts to each other of a lover’s free will.
time pass’ quickly with the couple’s desires,
their two bodies joined in love’s embrace;
united hearts pounding to love’s ultimate dance
at the water’s edge where the breakers chase….
Dec 4, 2011
Dec 4, 2011 at 12:53 PM UTC
If your silky lavender eyes choose not to meet mine
That’s fine.
Fantasies live and then die.
But for you, I'll try.
A man whose eyes hold only yours,
Sweet, lavender gazing privately,
Other sight blinded by joviality.
Uncontrollable emotion,
A shotgun blast from dad,
Deters no serious man.
A princess,
A jewel,
An emerald,
A girl.
Not an object,
But a privilege.
A man not centered on ***
Relationship not just in the bed,
Kisses on tangerine cheeks,
Through rain,
Foretelling lifelong love.
Soft skin swims,
I touch with permission,
We laugh and love,
None other.
Flawless beauty,
Like diamond,
Like velvet,
A wonderful image.
Thus you.
Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 4:41 PM UTC
Could there be any truth in the prophecies
that the Mayans had written?
Over five thousand years ago about 2012
foretelling a spiritual awakening!
And the possibility of the end of mankind
is it fiction that's outlined?
Prophecies written have come and long gone
scholars say they've happened.
Were these disasters predicted as it was told
or how they were interpreted?
Whether vague and their meanings calculated
their accuracy debated!
Many are sceptical of those who say they foresee
from past times to present.
Though a lot of predictions of the natural type
what of mankind's folly?
If there's a way that the future can be seen
to know seems obscene!
Usually nothing can be done to prevent it
causing fear and uncertainty.
Prophecies of the past make no difference
those of the future no comfort!
Whether the Mayans is true it's a short wait
if not next year let's have a debate!
The Foureyd Poet.
Jul 7, 2012
Jul 7, 2012 at 10:38 PM UTC
Mirrored silver
tag me blue
reflective sky
widgeon, merganser
blithely sail
broken ripples
foretelling
storm
raucous
cawing crows
assemble
anxious ducks
explode airborne
duly warned
silent drone
fateful wraith
Eagle
glides over
the settling
surface
razor eyes
seeking
the meek
the weak
fleeing flock
coalesces
white bellies
exposed to the sun
banking hard
return to serenity
certain death
deferred
in nature
alliances are clear
predator
prey
vigilantly
warning
relentlessly
defending
Shrieking
crow-beleaguered
Eagle
retreats
no match
for those
united
against him
Feb 6, 2017
Feb 6, 2017 at 9:43 AM UTC
Sings a small boy whose hair is tousled by the wind,
As too the folds of his mother’s peplos and the robes of clouds,
When Greece gathers in silence like the stillness for a deposed crown,
And all Athens around, the song of eiresione for firstfruits of Autumn,
Singing boys with the olive branches of colored wool and garlanded gourds,
A fall-bird to wander the Ionic sky, foretelling of new sunrise.
How that joyful ancient voice still haunts the songbird of sunset.
Apr 2, 2023
Apr 2, 2023 at 11:21 PM UTC
The first time
I heard them
I swear,
I was to listening
to the most beautiful choir
in four-part harmony,
swaying
or angles wings rubbing,
& perfectly, playing
a common file instrument
angled, such a unique sound
symphonic & splendorous
they are all around
this free concert
an offering of
Mother Nature
chiming at once
uncaged,
& calling on the ladies
in perfect unison
sounding like church
telling one another
of sunlit hours
say the flowers
fending off evil spirits
allowing me to travel
into the dark again
leaping over obstacles,
alerting me to danger,
still in their silence
I am protected
by this harbinger of luck
a most powerful portent,
of coming things
they sit silently in the quiet,
like a copper cricket weathervane,
as the poor man's thermometer
spinning tales effortlessly,
in the wind calmly
watching over us
a shivering in the night
save you, are mine
my Native American totem
or God's Cricket Chorus
foretelling of Sorrow
of coming rains tomorrow
ex-lovers and death
a shrill creaking
stridulating in song
Oh, I fear that day,
your music should go away
please dear uncaged cricket choir
I truly ....
hope you'll stay.
Cherie Nolan© 2016
Sep 27, 2016
Sep 27, 2016 at 1:32 PM UTC
No clouds at all, winter, spring, summer or fall,
Tells the weather watcher no change at all,
Cirrus my friend with a fair weather bent,
Your swirls, streaks and curls, so very high,
when there are just a few of you, goodness is nigh,
but when you gaggle in bunches and take and
curl your lip to show your ornery sides and swirl in the cold,
I am told through the white and cold grey, BLIZZARD!
get in doors or receive a frosty reception.
Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 10:47 PM UTC
*
Collapse into the arms of destiny
Let them carry you wherever the wind blows
Do not resist, be pliant
Like the reed that sways
Trust that you will be guided
To that which is in season to your soul
Love speaks with one voice
Sometimes through the parting of different lips
Know that the displacement and nostalgia you feel
is but a memory and a foretelling of Home
Relief comes with surrender
The leaf knows this secret
it yields in acquiescence.
Take a moment and contemplate
the life of a leaf ~
Surrender is not defeat,
it traverses land far and wide
and arrives gently to its destination
Surrender is not weakness,
know your strength.
Your essence can move mountains
Transcend into a fragrance that casts its spell into the night
unbeknownst to the beholder from whence it comes
In your surrender is beauty
that draws you closer to the ultimate Beauty
and culminates in the ultimate Love
Love him, love her, and let your love permeate
like the scent of two roses, together in bloom
♥
Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 10:44 PM UTC
At last the sun decided to recede,
and dismal clouds suddenly appeared;
In grey-green puffs of swirling smoke,
while crystal rain fell down in tears.
The night seemed in an endless whirl,
of lightning bolts and blustery winds;
I closed my eyes when thunder raged,
and pulled the covers to my chin.
My room appeared as black as coal,
its shadows foretelling ageless tales;
Of great mysteries from ancient times,
while words dissolved into ghastly wails.
Soon awakened from restless slumber,
with profound relief at what I saw;
The burnished golden bloom of day,
as summer had turned into shining Fall.
Aug 2, 2016
Aug 2, 2016 at 6:10 PM UTC
Upon a path of trepidation
Walked I along with hesitation
I trudged forth in contemplation,
Remarking on my indignation.
I felt as though the road would end,
Each step came forth again and again.
To pass the time, I counted sins,
Not religious exactly, just decision’s wind,
I thought of my own life, and how much change
Had plagued my mind and my own cage,
The prison in my head that I live through,
Even though there’s worse that I could do,
I closed that link before I could
Think of things I knew I should,
I “forgot” them throughout the years,
To push away all of my own fears,
With that then settled
The road I reveled.
I noticed the dust on this forgotten trail,
Each step disheveled the dirt so stale,
I noticed I hadn’t been the only one
To walk this trail and be undone,
But I was however the first in a while,
The steps i left behind me were straight and filed.
-
Withered whispering romance had wilted away
A faceless me, within I decayed,
The road was vast and all omniscient,
The weather indeed was quite consistent,
Muggy, dreary, a hint of mist,
Melancholy so, that I wished to be ******
I would have loved to be drunk again
As I had been so before like many men,
To take upon this journey but straight,
Would have felt like bringing train and freight,
It is important to realize
That I was alone and not in guise,
For to find myself, I was myself,
There was only I to seek for help.
-
about three days had passed along,
Wondering if I was even strong
Enough to find the cross in road
To decide which way that I should go,
When in sudden surprise there came,
The cross in road appeared to exclaim,
I could go straight, left or right,
As one would think it might,
But each direction had their own feel,
So much so, I thought it may not be real,
I gazed at each about an hour,
And witnessed their foretelling in my head as they showered.
-
The road ahead was static and unchanging
I found myself to be salivating,
Nervous, the feeling crept on through me,
The sensation of the same emotions, unruling.
I thought of the looming possibility,
That to change anything was not in my ability,
That I would be forced by past to walk this path,
Straight on and forward in a droning, mindless trance.
This startled me and I quickly thought
That I had best my chance be wrought,
Left or right, like straight, I felt both,
Like a voice somewhere inside bequothe,
“Lest ye not choose wrong dear boy,
Or you, I fear, will die empty in ploy.”
Chanting choruses of Gregorian nature
Repeated that stanza in mocking stature,
The repetition to the point of depravity,
I digressed, I became my insanity.
May 9, 2013
May 9, 2013 at 12:25 AM UTC
We are fluffy
not stuffy,
we are bright,
not dull,
we can be
the lull,
before the storm.
More on that later, after the news.
Reflecting white light and we become bright,
pile us on one another a collective of light,
and airy, we don't take our selves serious,
we are much lower to the ground than cirrus.
Please don't let what I have to say cloud your judgement in anyway!
We are piling up to be the top of the heap
want recognition for the sunny day, around noon
living it large looking the part too,
we are the flat bottomed cotton *****
We are the fairest of the fair, but beware as the day advances,
we may get bigger, darker taller and you take your chances,
to be about and about, there may be a change in the atmosphere,
how is that anxiety about thunder and lightening dear?
From cotton to solid rock tall,
from mole hill to mountain,
thirty thousand feet is all,
hope you don't mind if we take turns
blowing through, easy to find us
no fuss, look for the Jekyll and Hyde
you know the Cumulus Stuff.
Aug 21, 2013
Aug 21, 2013 at 11:00 PM UTC
"God is Alive, Magic is Afoot."
Who are you? Who am I?
the light in February can be self-sufficient,
sharp as deafness in the middle of the sentence
heavy as denial,
rapturous as a fusion
in the wind, in the air
forces of cohesion and destruction
play well together
in the arena of ribs, guts, lungs,
perhaps the silent liver
something is shivering inside
the light of a blade
an efortless wave of desire
a tired boundary left alone in the afternoon
the contours of my limits, your limits,
their limits so bright in this
constructivist fabric
Picasso was just foretelling us
forcing the doors
to expose the cover-up
dreaming his internal objects
then we start all over
with every breath
I want to give myself to me
as a new toy, as a gift
I want to love him with overt passion
I want you/him to break and store me
in between your thoughts
the body is full of eyes, of ears, of lips
I’ll survive in a whisper
They just want to flow into each other
clapping, holding on to the fluid of life
engulfing everything, defying all
censorship, authorship,
leadership
the light in February
is newly born with desire
to embrace itself, its darkness
in the vibrant body
I am, you are are sliding back with the air
finding rest in the vital void
the song remains the same
I am you, and you are me
the enchanted blade
is ready to cut
a new body for misunderstanding
we need to survive each other
something is tickling my feet
some wordless revolt
some rage of the living
to impersonate death
to posses their breath
I feel my boundaries
watched over by desire
but you are always invited here
to sing your sea of blood
turquoise or as you like
I am my desire
my desire is searching for myself
everywhere
in the incomprehensible light
in the lightness of his hair
in their hunger, courage and despair
for tomorrow
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 4:41 PM UTC
wandering
across
the splinters of
squandered
seasons
the Hajj
of the
lost ones
completes
a broken
circle
returning
with hope to
burrow back
into the safety
of desecrated
graveyards
welcomed
home to the
embrace of a
cadaverous cloak
and the kiss
of carrion
smudged lips,
Hajji's eye
the decrepit
visage of
criminal
depravity
germination
of this
Arab Spring
mocks us
aromas
of jasmine
elude us
emulsified
concrete
clogs our
nostrils
burning eyes
filled with
asbestos dust
form
grateful
blinders
to the
ruination
of reason
betrayed
arcane
remnants
of our life
lay inert
in the open
****** of
fractured
habitations
amidst
jumbled rubble
the decaying
carcasses of
razed buildings
boast grotesque
sculptures of
twisted rebar
cradling artifacts
of a past life
pink
hair curlers
splashed
with sickly
blood grown
mold
scavenged
bicycles
limp on
banished
parts
smashed
skulls of
dolls weep,
her
dismembered
limb reaches
for a lost child’s
nursing
hand
the charred
remains of a
Persian rug
maps the
scale
of a city’s
deconstruction
and a frayed
regions
disconsolation
electric luxury
flowing water
the friendly bustle
of the street
bespeak
expired memories
foretelling an
unimaginal future
sectarian strife
enforces a communal
solitary confinement
in cold blood
we willingly
murdered
compassion
we
butchered
trust
we
euthanized
our
common
humanity
constructing
buildings is
easy
rebuilding
ourselves
impossible
Music Selection:
Segovia, Capricho Arabe
Oakland
5/13/14
jbm
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 11:56 AM UTC
Every way, each day
I am present to see it.
His miracle of being
I the recipient his gift
Awestruck, humbled, blessed
This I understand completely
Though I know not how, or why
I. This man I still learn to know
As myself, of my self,
Admit having witness his growing
In great measure do I envy him
See his approach at living, being
embodying the kindest soul,
Naturally thoughtful and caring
How he is, has become
A lesson that I do learn from
My little legacy, so far beyond
better than from which he comes
I worry for him as fathers must
But not of him, of life's unexpected
always haunting every person
just out of foretelling, behind any horizon
For this treasure of my life I know
No doubt, to be a person of light
Wits, genuine smiles, listening and learning
His my Son, He is my Hero
I am out done, and yet,
ever the more thankful.
Blessed by You Zieven Lee.
Thank You. More than you'll ever know.
Nov 15, 2020
Nov 15, 2020 at 10:12 PM UTC
My brow furrowed as she read my palm
and whispered of growing interest.
"What?" I asked; I had my qualms
about the foretelling of a future
I haven't decided to live.
But I smell the darkness in the incense.
I trace the tendrils of the incense
with forehead firmly within my palm.
The streets below are live
with persons of little interest,
hustling toward a fuller future.
Renew me, my qualms.
Not that I had qualms,
banana-flavored incense
replacing patois in my future.
The lurid waves slide over my palm.
instill a touch of colder interest.
With each sandy step, I live.
And as the water fills my shoes, I live.
When I quietly lose interest
the ocean shows it too has qualms.
The brine coalesces like incense
as my nails dig into the skin of my palm.
For I seek a better future
than the unforgiving future
that chose not to live.
The salt stings the holes in my palm
and instantly I have no qualms,
just a lingering fleck of incense
arousing mild interest.
The ocean betrayed not the slightest interest
being the shepherd of my future.
Rivulets of water became the incense
That I would breathe to live.
Instinct expressed fervent qualms,
as I pressed my mouth with my open palm.
It was the incense in which I held the most interest.
Her finger traced my palm, mumbling of a better future
ahead for me to live, free from petty qualms.
Nov 25, 2010
Nov 25, 2010 at 1:17 AM UTC
An excerpt from An excerpt from
a poem by T.S. Eliot. a poem by the False Poets
Between the idea no permanence in juxtaposition
And the reality where Falls the Shadow, the shadow
Between the motion. a divisive notion caught between
And the act composition & action, the response is
Falls the Shadow Falls the Shadow
Between the conception grayed outline indistinct, the cognitive sap
And the creation leaks, contradictions irritating birth sac,
Between the emotion whereupon Falls the Shadow emerges
And the response the response conclusive, occlusive, collusive
Falls the Shadow Falls the Shadow
Between the desire juxtaposition insertion, need to achieve
And the spasm *the blurted ****** of spurted letters born*
Between the potency. in the potent white seeds of black words
And the existence coming into existence as a riptorn issue,
Between the essence essences of scents blood+logic foretelling
And the descent birth & death, descent & the ascent, both,
Falls the Shadow Falls the Shadow
Between the desire the desire desired, completed,
And the spasm the latency uncovered,
Between the potency the potent toxins of spit and tears
And the existence the birth fluid of of existence
Between the essence the formulation of the human essence
And the descent from blood dust to blood dust is where
Falls the Shadow. Falls All the Shadows
Oct 27, 2017
Oct 27, 2017 at 6:08 PM UTC
A spur of the moment your thoughts Fly high
spirit- within
The half- Angel
Wings of a falcon
Whole family rooftop beacon
Spirit of darkness pulling you through
But you had enough what else can you do?
The inner light afternoon hiking strong sun
Heart- jump the darkness knight
Turn of the wing lovers- flight
Waves form a word to far________ out- of- sight
Bright karma spiritual meditation
Magical forefinger western saloon
Are we doomed gunslingers
Spiritual voice awakening
Sun full force
The sun of his face
So penetrating/ everlasting
Spirit foretelling minds/ crashing
Foretelling a tale news/ flashing
Breathe in all the goodness to inhale
God-like prophetic exhale
Born free feral wild
Certain events foreseen
Spirit touch us*
all*
as a child*
Spirit foretelling
Eloquent of a real man lives us
To his duty
Time is unruly
Middle name Joy
Meaning Something like you
Do you feel its still you
Spirit change inside you
Starting to heal feet its
S h a k y
Holding the pen
Where are your hands maturing
What then?
Exquisite gardens
Open and play
Japanese Zen
A beauty to stay
Spiritual star foretelling
Love- Every Day
Jul 16, 2023
Jul 16, 2023 at 8:24 AM UTC
Gudron graced many a viking's visions,
like a Helen or a Guenevere.
But no ray of light could be shone
on her four disturbing dreams.
Until one day a wise kinsman called,
a dream interpreter, who told her
that she would outlast four husbands.
His foretelling came to pass.
But she never wed the man she loved.
He set sail. Gudron remained.
Iceland's first christian nun.
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 2:17 PM UTC
Loose clouds, sink dreams of sunny days and sunny ways,
They are the front runners the fore tellers, driven
before the wind of the next wave of water falling
from the sky and from my eye.
It is a SIGN, It is a SIGN, I tell you don't wear a target out
when Scuds are about, It is a sign of bad weather and my doom.
DOOM I say! Falls fool and Winters wimp, blown in my haggard face!
Seeing Scuds (a loose vapory missile, leading the bad weather)
at my doorsteps, dampening my foot falls, scud after scud,
more bad weather, dark clouds, I bend into the wind
head down so I won't drown and the Scuds can't see my eyes,
That I have given up, hide oh hooded head
and given in, I use my umbrella to hide behind,
will I or it survive the wind?
until spring rings in, with summer.
.
Aug 21, 2013
Aug 21, 2013 at 12:32 AM UTC