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"frighted" poems
O Sleep, O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weight my eyelids down And steep my senses in forgetfulness?... O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile In loathsome beds, and leav'st the kingly couch A watch-case or a common 'larum-bell?... Canst thou, O partial sleep, give thy repose?
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Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 12:51 PM UTC
O Sleep Why Hast Thou Forsaken Me
When midnight comes a host of dogs and men Go out and track the badger to his den, And put a sack within the hole, and lie Till the old grunting badger passes by. He comes an hears—they let the strongest loose. The old fox gears the noise and drops the goose. The poacher shoots and hurries from the cry, And the old hare half wounded buzzes by. They get a forked stick to bear him down And clap the dogs and take him to the town, And bait him all the day with many dogs, And laugh and shout and fright the scampering hogs. He runs along and bites at all he meets: They shout and hollo down the noisy streets. He turns about to face the loud uproar And drives the rebels to their very door. The frequent stone is hurled where’er they go; When badgers fight, then everyone’s a foe. The dogs are clapped and urged to join the fray’ The badger turns and drives them all away. Though scarcely half as big, demure and small, He fights with dogs for hours and beats them all. The heavy mastiff, savage in the fray, Lies down and licks his feet and turns away. The bulldog knows his match and waxes cold, The badger grins and never leaves his hold. He drives the crowd and follows at their heels And bites them through—the drunkard swears and reels The frighted women take the boys away, The blackguard laughs and hurries on the fray. He tries to reach the woods, and awkward race, But sticks and cudgels quickly stop the chase. He turns again and drives the noisy crowd And beats the many dogs in noises loud. He drives away and beats them every one, And then they loose them all and set them on. He falls as dead and kicked by boys and men, Then starts and grins and drives the crowd again; Till kicked and torn and beaten out he lies And leaves his hold and crackles, groans, and dies.
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3.1k
Badger
When midnight comes a host of dogs and men Go out and track the badger to his den, And put a sack within the hole, and lie Till the old grunting badger passes by. He comes an hears—they let the strongest loose. The old fox gears the noise and drops the goose. The poacher shoots and hurries from the cry, And the old hare half wounded buzzes by. They get a forked stick to bear him down And clap the dogs and take him to the town, And bait him all the day with many dogs, And laugh and shout and fright the scampering hogs. He runs along and bites at all he meets: They shout and hollo down the noisy streets. He turns about to face the loud uproar And drives the rebels to their very door. The frequent stone is hurled where’er they go; When badgers fight, then everyone’s a foe. The dogs are clapped and urged to join the fray’ The badger turns and drives them all away. Though scarcely half as big, demure and small, He fights with dogs for hours and beats them all. The heavy mastiff, savage in the fray, Lies down and licks his feet and turns away. The bulldog knows his match and waxes cold, The badger grins and never leaves his hold. He drives the crowd and follows at their heels And bites them through—the drunkard swears and reels The frighted women take the boys away, The blackguard laughs and hurries on the fray. He tries to reach the woods, and awkward race, But sticks and cudgels quickly stop the chase. He turns again and drives the noisy crowd And beats the many dogs in noises loud. He drives away and beats them every one, And then they loose them all and set them on. He falls as dead and kicked by boys and men, Then starts and grins and drives the crowd again; Till kicked and torn and beaten out he lies And leaves his hold and crackles, groans, and dies.
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40
It Was A Warm Spring Day, In Our Downtown Home, White Paint Was Lethargically Pealing, Off The Siding Which Lay Beneath Curling Vines, I Still Remember Your Smile Daddy, Your Coal Colored Hair Lingering In The Breeze, As You Asked Me, "Do You Wanna See?" I Nodded Not Quite Sure What I Was Going To See, You Gently Lifted Me Up, Put Me On Your Shoulders Like You Always Did, And Let Me Peer Inside A Forest Of Vines, And What I Saw Both Frighted And Enchanted Me, Something Completely New, A Little House Wren Who Cradled Her Eggs, And Looked At Me, Her Heart Beating Quickly, "She's Protecting Her Babies," You Whispered, "Just Like I'll Always Protect You" "Hi," I Said And Held Out My Hand, The Little Wren Flew Away And I Sobbed, "Why Was It Scared Of Me Daddy?" "It Was Only Letting You See It's Eggs"
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Dec 22, 2012
Dec 22, 2012 at 11:43 PM UTC
The Little Wren--My First Memory
I am on your chest of fighting pearls Like a rack of phobias hovering over you I push my eight legs hard between your ribs As not only your pupils dilate Your ribcage is wide open for me To feast merciless on your frighted heart I watch you with my thousand hooded eyes As you arch your back with eyes closed You hate so many things Like morning breath and crumbs But I will push this acrid vapour into you As I press your back deep through the floor I will take you there, come with me Where you cannot go, by yourself Don’t kneel before me, get the **** up and face As we both push on to unpaced frontiers...
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Jul 12, 2013
Jul 12, 2013 at 4:52 AM UTC
push
Just woke up now My eyes still puffy Can't believe this lovely dream I had of being with you. I dreamt I took a plane to you And stole into your house Crept around in search of you But heard voices, hid beneath a bed! Then some granny came into that room Shuffling in and mumbling low She lay down on that bed and tried To wrestle comfort from sagging mattress. Her nagging complaints drew them all While I froze in fear, yet so alive I shut my eyes and waited bated breath While they tended to the dame. Then you leaned down and saw me there I turned, you looked right into frighted deer eyes You ensconced the granny to another room All left the room, turned out the lights. Then fifty minutes later, when all asleep I felt you pulling out me All stiff by now, we rubbed a bit abed And settled into shy embrace. You kissed my eyes by sullen moon Raking crescent fingernails over me Barely hold the delight; no more Dazzling slivers of light dance in your eyes. But with time not on our side We subtly reach that exquisite point Where I hover twixt your crux I wait and wait, then gently ****** .... I yearn for you to move with me, oh! And when you do, you writhe and twist Then delicious thrills outwit in surprising bend As you . . . (.......) (Daddy, daddy, please I want some ice-cream!) Ohhhhh, crap! This sure is one bedazzled catnap I did not want hijacked. Star Toucher, 09 March 2013
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Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 10:01 AM UTC
Catnap
Oh Life! I breathe thee in the breeze, I feel thee bounding in my veins, I see thee in these stretching trees, These flowers, this still rock's mossy stains. This stream of odours flowing by From clover-field and clumps of pine, This music, thrilling all the sky, From all the morning birds, are thine. Thou fill'st with joy this little one, That leaps and shouts beside me here, Where Isar's clay-white rivulets run Through the dark woods like frighted deer. Ah! must thy mighty breath, that wakes Insect and bird, and flower and tree, From the low trodden dust, and makes Their daily gladness, pass from me-- Pass, pulse by pulse, till o'er the ground These limbs, now strong, shall creep with pain, And this fair world of sight and sound Seem fading into night again? The things, oh LIFE! thou quickenest, all Strive upwards toward the broad bright sky, Upward and outward, and they fall Back to earth's ***** when they die. All that have borne the touch of death, All that shall live, lie mingled there, Beneath that veil of bloom and breath, That living zone 'twixt earth and air. There lies my chamber dark and still, The atoms trampled by my feet, There wait, to take the place I fill In the sweet air and sunshine sweet. Well, I have had my turn, have been Raised from the darkness of the clod, And for a glorious moment seen The brightness of the skirts of God; And knew the light within my breast, Though wavering oftentimes and dim, The power, the will, that never rest, And cannot die, were all from him. Dear child! I know that thou wilt grieve To see me taken from thy love, Wilt seek my grave at Sabbath eve, And weep, and scatter flowers above. Thy little heart will soon be healed, And being shall be bliss, till thou To younger forms of life must yield The place thou fill'st with beauty now. When we descend to dust again, Where will the final dwelling be Of Thought and all its memories then, My love for thee, and thine for me?
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Life
Oh Life! I breathe thee in the breeze, I feel thee bounding in my veins, I see thee in these stretching trees, These flowers, this still rock's mossy stains. This stream of odours flowing by From clover-field and clumps of pine, This music, thrilling all the sky, From all the morning birds, are thine. Thou fill'st with joy this little one, That leaps and shouts beside me here, Where Isar's clay-white rivulets run Through the dark woods like frighted deer. Ah! must thy mighty breath, that wakes Insect and bird, and flower and tree, From the low trodden dust, and makes Their daily gladness, pass from me-- Pass, pulse by pulse, till o'er the ground These limbs, now strong, shall creep with pain, And this fair world of sight and sound Seem fading into night again? The things, oh LIFE! thou quickenest, all Strive upwards toward the broad bright sky, Upward and outward, and they fall Back to earth's ***** when they die. All that have borne the touch of death, All that shall live, lie mingled there, Beneath that veil of bloom and breath, That living zone 'twixt earth and air. There lies my chamber dark and still, The atoms trampled by my feet, There wait, to take the place I fill In the sweet air and sunshine sweet. Well, I have had my turn, have been Raised from the darkness of the clod, And for a glorious moment seen The brightness of the skirts of God; And knew the light within my breast, Though wavering oftentimes and dim, The power, the will, that never rest, And cannot die, were all from him. Dear child! I know that thou wilt grieve To see me taken from thy love, Wilt seek my grave at Sabbath eve, And weep, and scatter flowers above. Thy little heart will soon be healed, And being shall be bliss, till thou To younger forms of life must yield The place thou fill'st with beauty now. When we descend to dust again, Where will the final dwelling be Of Thought and all its memories then, My love for thee, and thine for me?
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52
roam the fingers, thin and light. beguile by the brooks, chilly and frighted. rust in trunks, ****** bells in hums, greens they run, yellows the sun. down the ripples, silent and long; appear books, of language and song. in the books, shall be love- veiled beyond views from branches I once sew; the stains in the berries, the one in teas, redden every morning, on laced napkins; the love of ballet songs; in waves of faerie wands; The cloaked mist, in time, of the faces I still want.
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Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 12:59 AM UTC
morn tremors
I’m gliding, not fighting As I enter later years. I’m skating, not debating As I face my aging fears. I see what I was afraid of Were just phantasms only. They leave too many scared With talk of being lonely. Go away with bearboo talk. Nobody is frighted here. It’s just another day for me It’s nothing but another year! Age is not the bogeyman It comes along with the ride. It’s part of what made my life It’s proof that I have tried. **** and chest swapped places My hair is wandering south. All that goes very swiftly Is my energy and my mouth. Everything is changing now I am not a kid any more. I spend time in pharmacy aisles More than the rest of the store. But none of this unexpected. I watched others go through it. It’s not like it was ever a secret. No mystery. I totally knew it. So I plan to celebrate this stage Which means I must slow down And take things as they come No reason to whine, cry or frown.
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Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 12:57 AM UTC
ROCKING THE AGES
You ask me how I will do it. I never told you but I will slit my throat in front of the person that anger me the most. I wanna see blood, red and frighted eyes. Scared for life.
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Dec 25, 2018
Dec 25, 2018 at 12:39 PM UTC
Blood Red Throat
There in a corner is a messed up kid But no one knows They never speak or rise their hand You will never hear a word They keep to the shadows So no one sees them However They see you They hear you They notice everything But they will never step forward As they are frighted of what Might happen if they step In others way
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Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 1:49 PM UTC
The quiet ones
Adorned in flowers, you will look to the sky. Garnished with clovers, your body will sigh. A breath to the aspens lining your road, shading your skin in the sun of the grove. Come down silver hands from the aerial realm and you recall the words of the old St. Anselm. For he argued that 'Being is greater than not being' And you are no longer frighted by the hell you are seeing.
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Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 5:16 PM UTC
Ontology
'All they who thoughtless are, nor heed, What timeDeath's messengers appear, Must long the pangs of suffering feel In some base body habiting. But all those good and holy men, What time they see Death's messengers, Behave not thoughtless, but give heed To what the Noble Doctrine says; And in attachment frighted see Of birth and death the fertile source, And from attachment free themselves, Thus birth and death extinguishing. Secure and happy ones are they, Released from all this fleeting show; Exempted from all sin and fear, All misery have they overcome.' Anguttara-Nkaya, iii.35
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Apr 29, 2017
Apr 29, 2017 at 3:17 PM UTC
Death's Messengers
Broken hearts and worried minds In love; but frighted, all of the time of time It sits and watches, seeing things happen Always wonderin', thinkin', lookin', and crackin' That worryful heart always thinking the worst Cause its been ripped and torn, and never picked first The things it has been through, the things it has seen The people who've stabbed it, the ones who've been mean It makes it hard to trust when someone offers help Even though it lets out a cry and a yelp, But that heart does get healed in time, By friends, family, and temporary love that seems just fine But then that heart gets hurt again By that love, or that friend, so it asks, when? When will it find someone so dear? someone to hold is tight and near. When will it see the pain go away? To see the end of this unending fray. To know what its like to worry no more. To truly have love.... amor That heart will worry, tense up, and sigh But it will always keep quiet, watch, and try.
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May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 4:39 AM UTC
A Worryful Heart
the seeking eye that even seems to speak of urgent matters at an early time is the best weapon wielded by the weak not in the option given to the meek to keep heads lowered as the sweet bells chime the seeking eye that even seems to speak looks through a wall apparently unique but hidden in its recesses and grime is the best weapon wielded by the weak a simple tool not modern nor antique whose users have come under in their prime the seeking eye that even seems to speak and not been frighted they are past critique able to know just where in the long climb is the best weapon wielded by the weak those who are able find they are to peek in hidden places for the true sublime the seeking eye that even seems to speak is the best weapon wielded by the weak
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May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 10:12 AM UTC
the seeking eye
As a traveler of a certain Pace, i have seen a million faces, but i stood appalled, by the shadow that called my name from the rest, one who singled me out from my peers, calling me out inciting my fears, i stood frighted and yet somewhat relived, by the smoothing tone of his voice, he knew my name which came as a surprise, even though it twas a tough decision, i heard his words and he fled from vision, many years would pass on by, before he would once again meet my eyes, but it was on the day of my death, when i would find him again, as i laid sick slipped into the fray, i closed my eyes and he whispered welcome home old friend
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Oct 24, 2015
Oct 24, 2015 at 9:55 PM UTC
Words from a Traveler
Shallow Victoryprose for enmities  Where were you when I was tied to a tight right fright fight flight- out of site- bed of nails? Where were you as I climbed the river’s apex- onto the bridge to jump into the grubby gray filthy foul nubilous turbid Yarra River during afternoon peak hour? A couple of years later I found a path that led me to solid ground. The floor of leaves: ashen brown- dried from the autumn skies that frighten the forest walls lived my torso and mind. Decision plus: chambering up the tree-big burly branches to hang on to or to just hang: whatever you please- I swung backwards and jumped down only to feel fervently frighted and let down by myself. Bad reasoning is the corner stone of every neuro-domapine- lacking- serotonin- high- chemical- affected-aneurysm-apocolptic-trip-of- nine- inch holes- cranium-madness Am I supposed to weep at a funeral every other time? Or cry at birthdays? I don’t know anymore. Lost the music in the ears. Loud as London buses. To Camden Town or Finsbury Park Back North where we lunch in Hampstead Heath. Meeting with the dead-turning life into sugar- was my soul brain fed properly. Nice to hear the dream come truly alive. Ears are made of wax. Eyes to peer in. Tax merchants visiting their wards. I exist as a soiled tar glum stolen by a grub ancient times ago.It’s about the whole rage. Ripping into your sick mind and gut stripped out of you like a lamb slaughtered. Another organic area of bile. Living with a sin or kin. Blabber- bub-drums-it into a ball Dearth path laugh quark Dim- win-din-pinned and high on smack Hot tot rot amaze me with your scream number 1 Bella- we all been one sometime
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Jun 21, 2024
Jun 21, 2024 at 5:51 AM UTC
Shallow Victory
Shallow Victoryprose for enmities  Where were you when I was tied to a tight right fright fight flight- out of site- bed of nails? Where were you as I climbed the river’s apex- onto the bridge to jump into the grubby gray filthy foul nubilous turbid Yarra River during afternoon peak hour? A couple of years later I found a path that led me to solid ground. The floor of leaves: ashen brown- dried from the autumn skies that frighten the forest walls lived my torso and mind. Decision plus: chambering up the tree-big burly branches to hang on to or to just hang: whatever you please- I swung backwards and jumped down only to feel fervently frighted and let down by myself. Bad reasoning is the corner stone of every neuro-domapine- lacking- serotonin- high- chemical- affected-aneurysm-apocolptic-trip-of- nine- inch holes- cranium-madness Am I supposed to weep at a funeral every other time? Or cry at birthdays? I don’t know anymore. Lost the music in the ears. Loud as London buses. To Camden Town or Finsbury Park Back North where we lunch in Hampstead Heath. Meeting with the dead-turning life into sugar- was my soul brain fed properly. Nice to hear the dream come truly alive. Ears are made of wax. Eyes to peer in. Tax merchants visiting their wards. I exist as a soiled tar glum stolen by a grub ancient times ago.It’s about the whole rage. Ripping into your sick mind and gut stripped out of you like a lamb slaughtered. Another organic area of bile. Living with a sin or kin. Blabber- bub-drums-it into a ball Dearth path laugh quark Dim- win-din-pinned and high on smack Hot tot rot amaze me with your scream number 1 Bella- we all been one sometime
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endless suffocation the lost mixed up cut off generation see i can claim that im a different patient i sat here face full emotion but the rope tightens cant lie im frighted its damnation empty and die i try to be patent forcing the tears but i aint crying im dying drugs were used to escape my chemical warfare its not the problem it the root i scream when there's no one there life aint fair as it seems its just another suicide scare
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Mar 5, 2016
Mar 5, 2016 at 9:32 AM UTC
mental self
It was a DARK and STORMY night of ALL HALLOWS EVE, Where the spooks roam the night, and have you quivering in your knees, Such Cold chill in the air, Is a creatures delight, To run up on you and ****** you, is your biggest fright. They do it with force and they do it with ease, To seek what they want and to chase who they please. As you Shriek in fear, The creature is near, You try to run and hide, TOO LATE, COS, IT'S HERE!!!! Your Teeth start to chattering, and your knees are shaking hearing WHISPERS in the DARK and you are suddenly awakened You look around, for the frighted sounds, But there's no one around, SO YOU START TO WIND DOWN. THIS HALLOWS NIGHT HAS GONE TO YOUR HEAD, BUT YOU'RE SAFE IN YOUR HOUSE, SO YOU GO RIGHT TO BED. The COLD and the STILLNESS of a STORMY NIGHT Brings chills down your spine and gives you such a FRIGHT, of a fate of your PLIGHT. The WHISPERS in the DARK of MYSTERIES ARE UNSEEN, The hunt is on So: HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!! B.R. Date: 10/6/2024
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Oct 6, 2024
Oct 6, 2024 at 8:46 PM UTC
WHISPERS in the DARK