"foretells" poems
I.
Hear the sledges with the bells—
Silver bells!
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
How they ****** ****** ******
In their icy air of night!
While the stars, that oversprinkle
All the heavens, seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells—
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.
II.
Hear the mellow wedding bells,
Golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
Through the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight!
From the molten golden-notes,
And all in tune,
What a liquid ditty floats
To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats
On the moon!
Oh, from out the sounding cells,
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
How it swells!
How it dwells
On the future! how it tells
Of the rapture that impels
To the swinging and the ringing
Of the bells, bells, bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells—
To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!
III.
Hear the loud alarum bells—
Brazen bells!
What a tale of terror now their turbulency tells!
In the startled ear of night
How they scream out their affright!
Too much horrified to speak,
They can only shriek, shriek,
Out of tune,
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire
Leaping higher, higher, higher,
With a desperate desire,
And a resolute endeavor
Now—now to sit or never,
By the side of the pale-faced moon.
Oh, the bells, bells, bells!
What a tale their terror tells
Of Despair!
How they clang, and clash, and roar!
What a horror they outpour
On the ***** of the palpitating air!
Yet the ear it fully knows,
By the twanging,
And the clanging,
How the danger ebbs and flows;
Yet the ear distinctly tells,
In the jangling,
And the wrangling,
How the danger sinks and swells,
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells—
Of the bells—
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells—
In the clamor and the clangor of the bells!
IV.
Hear the tolling of the bells—
Iron bells!
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!
In the silence of the night,
How we shiver with affright
At the melancholy menace of their tone!
For every sound that floats
From the rust within their throats
Is a groan.
And the people—ah, the people—
They that dwell up in the steeple.
All alone,
And who toiling, toiling, toiling,
In that muffled monotone,
Feel a glory in so rolling
On the human heart a stone—
They are neither man nor woman—
They are neither brute nor human—
They are Ghouls:
And their king it is who tolls;
And he rolls, rolls, rolls,
Rolls
A paean from the bells!
And his merry ***** swells
With the paean of the bells!
And he dances, and he yells;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the paean of the bells—
Of the bells:
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the throbbing of the bells—
Of the bells, bells, bells—
To the sobbing of the bells;
Keeping time, time, time,
As he knells, knells, knells,
In a happy Runic rhyme,
To the rolling of the bells—
Of the bells, bells, bells—
To the tolling of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells—
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.
10.5k
is like no other early morning, man reborn, in the delivery
room of sky blue, the offsetting water deeper bluish hue,
the trim-all-around of the mixed salad greens of the staff's
scrubs as they usher in unity, with no imp-unity, the risks,
while the supervisory sky, disperses cumulus clouds in
peppercorn patterns of white chains, or big wide solitary
brushstrokes on a a ****** canvas, gettin' the feel in the
palm of the heft of brush, the viscosity of the paint, the day's
palette reflecting available colors in order to create a uni~cued
original of what has been painted an uncountable times before,
and before…
tho short weighted, was the sleep of the prior night's restful,
he awakes to the early morning light, the sounds of early
island rouse him, even, arouse him, for the August chill
foretells of the early onset of memory loss of the peculiarities
of this summered simmering, human warming and baking
and natural braking of the slowing of the heart rate, to better
accommodate, nature's hints and hidden reminiscences
of the true purpose of the summer's intervention upon our
collective and unique bottling, our individualized containers,
un~lidded, uncovered, eager for the fuel of sunrays replenish-
ing the length of our lives by the elixir of the summer
it is a chill 63 Fahrenheit at this time of day as we crossover
to the nigh day, from the cooling air conditions of dark,
the occasional helicopter intrudes upon the morning's calm,
the water placid, the geese honking regarding my watchful
rewarding presence, a slew, a bevy, of female vocalists, to
ease this transitory performance unfolding, and though one
feels the existential of his solitary singularity, as he thinks,
nay believes, he is the only one in attendance at this ritualized
emergence, he takes in the cool of, the heat of, the admixture
of both, the clashing integers of each, and he, fully invigorated,
goes silent, for once more, he has uncovered new combinations of
old words to accept and describe a new day's creation, miracle of miraculous, defying the odds of this ventures's success, his own continuance on this sheltered but open all around island implanted tween two tines of land, as if all the surroundings were created just to protect this, wholly holy place…
7:00am
Silver Beach
Shelter Island
Aug 19 2025
Aug 19, 2025
Aug 19, 2025 at 8:00 AM UTC
All the sailor's know the warning
of a red-tinged sunrise morning
Storm clouds are on the bay
Just as Sally knew the forming
as his rage began its swarming
Storm clouds again today
Others see something pleasing
and rebuff the ocean's teasing
Storm clouds are on the way
And they said she was mistaken
no beast was there to awaken
Storm clouds they do embrace
But sailor's know their business
as time has oft made them witness
Storm clouds that run their race
To her the truth couldn't be clearer
as she looked into the mirror -
Storm clouds upon her face
The sailor knows to dodge the squall
that morning foretells with its call
Storm clouds then pass them by
Sally was left to take the fall
when truth was denied by us all
Storm clouds then let her die
Troubles in life they take all forms
so listen well when told of storms
Storm clouds never lie
Sep 19, 2010
Sep 19, 2010 at 1:33 AM UTC
he is to have
his inner monologue
removed.
his surgeon
so publicly
sad
is not
captured.
sometimes pillow
sometimes x-ray
his boy’s
seashell
ear
foretells
the housing
crisis
in a place
of worship.
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 1:41 PM UTC
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
The cur foretells the knell of parting day;
The loafing herd winds slowly o'er the lea;
The wise man homewards plods; I only stay
To fiddle-faddle in a minor key.
2.3k
Upon the stage of unsung heroes,
Stands the pale and hollow of stars,
she foretells of Men and their woes,
“The world’s end is near, and the near
Will come, be it now or tomorrow.”
The sun, old and withering
Soared its dying lights in the sky,
We thought the night has come,
And the day might soon follow,
Yet the moon, crippled by the sight,
Cracked and died, its crystals fade.
If ever be hope of life in the dark,
Let the beasts swamp the shades.
And if planets roamed far into
The abyss, in search of shelter,
That pale star, lonely and new
Would spread its arms, “come
To my reach, giants of air and
Beautiful intricate rocks, soak
Not all of my powers, watch me
Gain my strength with time,
And dance around me as I
grow mute to all neighboring
hot, lively and cunning stars.
Sep 10, 2025
Sep 10, 2025 at 8:36 AM UTC
There is beauty in the End;
Beauty in a conglomerate of
Failed fairy tales we
Once thought would make up
Our life's happy trails.
Virtue hangs purposefully
On quivering lips
and racing heartbeats
that foretells a demise-
There's MEANING in the End.
Wipe your tears.
Dry your eyes.
These are means to every End.
So enjoy that Last Kiss
and mourn not the story that it concludes
But await the one that it begins.
For like I said,
There is Beauty in the End
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 11:58 AM UTC
The lathe of heaven's spinning, spinning
Now the web of time beginning,
Time the holder of the many secrets
We must someday learn;
Time the hearth where lie the days
The universe will slowly burn.
Life springs up; it's breathing, breathing
And the web of life is weaving,
Life revolves through many stages
And no one foretells the whole;
Life the mold in which we pour
The essence, turns into the soul.
Sep 17, 2010
Sep 17, 2010 at 3:12 PM UTC
From grey Nebraska
approaching Colorado
sun foretells new life.
19.iii.11
Mar 31, 2011
Mar 31, 2011 at 5:42 PM UTC
Honorable politician,
Truthful and without ambition,
Found behind bars his own place.
Such a lucky mental case!
Her eyes are truly not hypnotic
Although her smile is mystery,
Each man by nature too myopic
Is guilty of adultery.
Because she had an empty purse,
Yet smiling strange like La Joconde,
He drove his Jaguar in reverse
Thinking she was another blonde.
She had a few coins for grissini,
Wearing her old and too short skirt.
With mercy, dressed in white silk shirt,
He bought for her pretty bikini.
A young woman said: “My love is like sunshine”.
An old woman whined: “My rheumatism foretells rain”.
I stood silent between them, under cloudy skies,
Believing the weather report lies.
Sigmund Freud,
Before others find the steroid,
Dived his nose under the *** drive,
But ******* kept him alive.
Schizophrenia survey:
Doctor: Have you ever had hallucinations?
Patient: No, have you ever seen a schizophrenic?
D: Are you a ******
P: No, until I meet the right man.
D: Have you heard strange voices around?
P: No, my parrot doesn't speak.
D: Do you think you are a great woman?
P: No, I killed only a few cockroaches, with too much spray.
D: Do you think you are a martyr?
P: No, martyrs are killed in a short time and everyone is happy afterwards.
D: Do you think you should die?
P: No, it is better on the floor than below.
D: Can you forgive others' sins?
P: No, Jesus Christ was better than me.
D: Do you think you have enemies?
P: No, I don't have a hammer drill.
D: Do you love your mother?
P: No, only our feelings are the same.
D: Did you try to **** yourself?
P: Yes, because whatever I asked, others said NO.
Patient: Doctor, what are you thinking now?
Doctor: That you never think.
Sep 15, 2013
Sep 15, 2013 at 3:28 AM UTC
I thought surrender is that easy —
Like the flowing river
So natural to begin with itself
And last in its bestowed
Eternity.
I hope to ponder for another time
Like shifting the clock
And be wise as the future foretells
That I could ever throw a line
To the Captain of the sky
As I whisper through my tears
So He could catch me
In the middle of longingness and satisfaction.
Maybe this time,
I could truly call for hope
And receive what I’ve uttered
In every prophetic season
When I was relieved with assurance
That there’s a prerequisite to “help.”
And so later in these milli-seconds counting
One palm could rest on another
As if raising a voice but always in silence.
Maybe I could always yearn for more
And even learn more
Urge no more toward the death of a dream
And start to glide
Like a kite without wings.
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 9:29 AM UTC
If I were to offer you one thousand tears of a lovers sighing cry,
Would you fill your heart or empty them into an endless ocean of tide,
A withering petal of the most beautiful emotion that refuse to see the sun,
But in the seized feelings caged within aspects far beyond longing begun,
A belief that foretells of a song releasing you from held burden;
A beast doth not despise the hunter whilst running defense,
A flower doth not question the sun's distance immense,
Both are lost in the beating of raw intensity,
Bringing to thy edge of amber like waves of feeling into me,
Crashing on the white crests of an ever ending sea;
When you think of love do you think of your fear?
When I am in your vision do you think to draw me near?
But torture me ever not, with fleeting lunacy clouding my wisdom,
Mystifyingly hidden terrors of future commitment come,
But our souls have not touched long enough to leave the connection undone.
Yet a spirit is like neither bone nor flesh so bound by distance,
Tattered souls travel the world in their undying persistence,
Tenderly pleaded the most noble actions of feelings rendered,
Only seeking to be in our hearts remembered,
Holding to hopes of a better November...
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 3:49 PM UTC
the wobble of a muon foretells a paradigmatic shift in our understanding of the forces of nature
my wobble foretells an excess of alcohol
Aug 11, 2023
Aug 11, 2023 at 1:37 PM UTC
My overwhelming Solemnity
is represented-
by brown fields
in Spring-time withering.
Nostalgia riddles me
with, and throughout,
my Life.
It is a Sweet candy;
Sour- like the taste of my gums,
as I reflect on my Experience
as a Living, Breathing,
flesh-Encumbered Soul.
"These are the pale, empty vessels of our spirit,"
says One, about our bodies.
"'Tis the final embrace from the Mother to Son,"
says One, in regards to Death.
"This is the end of a Turn,
of the Wheel just Begun,"
says one,
pondering the endless Circles
of Our existence.
But find,
in one Moment,
peace.
But see,
in one Moment,
the sun that revels on Our faces;
that dances like flames, upon Our eyes.
Don't weep because the moon crests;
because the tides rise;
because the the vivid flowers of Our mind have begun their soft decay.
Instead,
remember that Our dying bodies exist;
that peace can be found;
that the moon is merely a Shadow of the sun's brilliance;
that We,
as all Hope foretells,
as the Flowers of one age,
tread paths for the dying New;
for unborn eyes;
for the Shadows of Our acceptance.
Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 3:55 PM UTC
Like waves on the seashore
sadness washed over me.
Like moving shadows
despair set in.
Waiting to drag me under,
waiting to crush my soul.
It is a void of darkness
fathomless depths I could not reach.
Like wildfire in the night sky,
it could not be quenched.
Its cold icy grasp soaked me to the bone
gripping my frail heart in its clutches.
Where were you my love?
where were the winds of the wylde,
that used to sweep through my heart.
Where were you my stronghold
my safe haven from the things of the dark?
Like the cold winds of winter
you left me to die,
you cut into me like a noose
squeezing the life out of my soul.
For me without you the end was near
the light was gone
the darkness set in.
To whom then
could I lay those burdens?
To where then
could I have rested my head?
In the silence of my defeat
I laid my burdens down.
I swayed the pale flag of surrender
and I hung my head
low towards the ground.
For how could I see the light,
when all that was ahead of me
was a shroud of mist and gloom?
When all that my future foretells
is my doom,
creeping nearer and nearer.
I looked into my future
I saw tears, and I saw blood.
I saw wicked winds
Ripping into my body
tearing it apart.
Crushing my lungs
choking me of love.
Ridding me of my joy.
Then out of the shroud of my despair,
in a mirage of reality
a light appeared in the distance.
A glistening star shined for me.
Mocking the darkness
scorning the fear.
Steadily as I watched
it grew in volume.
It crept closer and closer
to my beating heart.
As it came nearer
it exploded alive with color and life.
Suddenly as I gazed into that bright beacon,
that beautiful pure light.
I saw through the realm of my eye
glimpses of beautiful things,
shining halls and glistening walls.
Golden streets,
and glorious beauty.
Fields of green
of violet.
Flowers of yellow
of blue and crimson gold.
"Is this the end"?
I cred and cried
"Is this the moment where mortality
and eternity meet"?
From the shrouds of the deepest sorrow
I had emerged.
On the wings of this glorious star,
my heart now soars.
Suddenly as I earnestly watched,
the star grew brighter and brighter.
As this took place, from somewhere
in the midst of the glory
came a voice deep, soft, and forgiving.
"Welcome my child,
welcome my friend,
Welcome home to the life
I have made for you.
Come and your troubles
shall be washed away.
Take my hand
and follow the light of this dazzling star.
The light of my heart
the light of my life.”
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 12:40 PM UTC
I love the word "forever"
I don't really know why
Maybe because it foretells a new beginning
Or a sad goodbye
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 11:45 AM UTC
O' sandy shells, o' sandy shells; I know
Why pearly armor 'neath the sand conceal.
The whisper tells, the hearted tells of woe
From windy lisps, begotten ears then seal.
The hush foretells, that love foretells, of pain;
A grief that hollowed clams, collect and feel.
To ease the spells, that love-lost spells refrain,
That lovers old; with broken shells, can heal.
O' empty wells, o' loveless wells; rejoice!
As by the sea; the tiny shells will steal
The burning cells, the lovelorn cells and voice
And nestle where; nostalgic sands congeal.
Yes lover's bells, O' magic bells; let shine!
Turn not to shells, like many shells of mine.
Jan 20, 2019
Jan 20, 2019 at 12:03 AM UTC
The leaden winter:
overbearing, ominous.
foretells lethargy
Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 9:51 AM UTC
Ambrosia!
Greatness lies latent in wisdom...
The wisdom which foretells that ambrosia is but a mirage which disappears upon the verge of discovery!
The trail for the invisible is like a mist that can be felt on the skin but never embraced by your heart...
For ambrosia is that which hides in every shadow of the grasslands... And which breaks open in rocks a world of tomorrow...!
Ambrosia is poured in droplets to which the peacock dances in thanksgiving...
The wind spills ambrosia into the ***** of nature... Spreading fragrance in eternal directions...
The sun of the morning and the moon of the night dances to the tunes of ambrosia...!
The shaky hands of the old man and in the sprinting hands of the young, does ambrosia weave fables of a forgotten history... and an uncertain mystery.
Why do you then seek for it?
The thing that you seek is your one thought away...
Unlock the wisdom that gurgles in forbidden caverns of the cave of your life...
Seek that wisdom...
For in the very act of seeking that...
You would have found Ambrosia!
~V.Venandi
Jul 21, 2020
Jul 21, 2020 at 10:43 AM UTC
This blur held me
As dust fell upon dust
The speeding devil
A race upon not won
A corners cut
From a crosses held
The end a must
A drivers tale
This leadened foot
I know so well
Can only lead
Forgotten tale
This is the end
The crash foretells
A marriage broken
The in
Exhaled
Apr 27, 2013
Apr 27, 2013 at 6:37 PM UTC
Near the wavey waltz of beach
above are Gulls flocking by,
downward rays her beauty's peach
to carom and meet my eye.
Golden strands outshines the sands
and gazing pupils allure;
to deeply swim the ocean's hands
that cleanse lover's demure.
Winds ripple her amber dress
to homage summer's fashion
so lissom that I profess
her mine! Ashore of passion.
The hushing brine, splashes sighs
as to how her shimmer gleams
and none so ever arise
that'll match my lover's beams.
Let this diamond, kissed by sun
flow gently my love's decree
that she'll be mine, soon as one;
this rose's beauty will be.
With smile's high, and dripping eye
she exalts through salty air
"with love so vast, outdone the sky
of course! Now an eternal pair!"
In echo then, the seashells!
whom plush of Cupid's spree
foretells of ocean love spells
of her, me by lover's sea.
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 2:44 AM UTC
Pity poison, pity party,
pity is pretty ****** off
at your Pompadour proposition,
your parcel proposal!
O, a cardboard box,
the symbol of the distance crossed
and darker shadows to bright love lost.
What a world of merriment their melody foretells
as you shake them like little silver bells.
Go to hell.
Car chase scenes excite you; sit tight, you,
as your flight from fight reunites you with
the boy who never knew
what you are.
You are jelly in a jam, so your ham-fisted attitude
leads the lamb of love to slaughter;
the s leads laughter on, standing for *** (check male or female),
stimulation, stimulant, squabble, **** **** sext--
a wrecked relationship sinking, sinking,
and being nearer, my ******* God, to thee
makes me sick between my bones
but the iceberg of your persistence has to melt,
even with a bit of red paint.
Your dainty hopes that you could go
two for two with hearts and minds
not only disgust, but your lust broke my trust
and I must, must, must ring the bells.
Class dismissed. I hope you've learned.
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 8:42 AM UTC
As still as water,
Yet not even half as calming.
Foretells the darkness.
Aug 25, 2016
Aug 25, 2016 at 8:27 AM UTC