"garnet" poems
~
*O Painter
with thy own eye
would thee
paint me in mine own natural hue
prithee paint me as i am,
imperfections
and blemishes true
Load thy brush
with colors sundry
to maketh yond first pure sweep
across the ****** frieze,
fill'd with pangs of hunger.
paint me as i standeth
bethought, in deep
With mine own love and mine own desire,
blurring the edges unclean
with mine own regrets
and mine own mental gyre,
in mine own natural age,
of deep forest green
O Painter
Paint me sinister turquoise,
in lavender and maroon,
combine the amethyst and amber
blend the iceberg
and the indigo moon.
Paint me as i standeth,
prithee see with thy eye
a mistress in yond lady plight
Prithee paint me all i am
i cullionly
a mistress in all yond lady might
Paint me in the optimistic
silv'r of dawn,
but don’t miss the purple
to shade the bruise
of the bygone.
paint me in the sky blue journal
O Painter
Paint me as a unique template
smudge black white and grizzled
merging all the colors of thy palette.
col'r me a rainbow
in a rainy drizzle
Paint me tall so yond i standeth
loftier than any mountain
Paint me as a dram bird, delicate
with soft feathers silken
Paint me harmony, as a violin
so yond i can sing thy solitary tune
paint me as thy poetry
with song and melody
wrapp'd in a cocoon
O Painter
paint me as a dream yond rises
in did saturate colors
with a steady upbeat flight awry
tint, a fluttering
of a quite quaint butterfly
Portray me with endurance
imbue so bold and bright
doth not hesitate
to depict mine own mind
in profound fuchsia and white.
Useth the colors yond thee would borrow
Thy palette not yet exsufflicate
Paint mine own loss and mine own sorrow
in search of a shade so ******
Adorn mine own heart in glowing garnet
at which hour thee paint mine own love
add a true broken blue shade
of the cloud and the rain above;
Study mine own dry sorrow
in mine own soul
useth any shade thee plaited
soften the edges of control
in a tinge of xanthene.
O Painter
Prithee paint me
Mine own passion and mine own spirit
shall has't a crimson r'd hint
mine own remorse and mine own regret
shall reflect an ink stain print
Paint me in mine own eye so true
O Painter
but add a dash of courage too*
~
Dec 17, 2017
Dec 17, 2017 at 10:52 AM UTC
Doctor Larch peers out the window,
Pulling aside brocaded curtains to hide
The grief that he will not show,
The rending emptiness he feels inside.
As his son Homer rides past the sunset,
Not knowing where he goes
But aspiring to see the wide world,
The ocean at Mount Desert,
Seeing wonder in the expanse
And worlds inside a circle of glass.
He has taken with him his heart,
A dark picture of frailty.
He finds unexpected work in an orchard,
Leisurely harvesting round, garnet jewels.
The nomads, dark and wary,
Ask him to read about death and stars.
There are rules for the workers.
And Homer finds that they apply
To no one, neither nomads or
Curious young men.
He sees in the errant father
The reflection of his own,
The man who made him good.
“You are my work of art”
He wrote.
Like an artist with his painting,
Who resists giving it away,
So Doctor Larch holds on to him
Hoping his adolescence ends
And he returns.
Finding peace at the last.
The lack of rules bring about a sea change,
Allowing forbidden love and pain.
He ventures out once more into the vacuum
Of conscience set free,
He devises his own rules about the womb
And how to help those in agony
But eventually…
With all the rules now open,
There is nothing left for him to do.
So he boards the migrant truck
Just as the pilot returns, broken.
He watches the struggle with a wheelchair
Sees his lover watch him with her yellow hair
Knows her future, years of sacrifice.
And he admits at last
That he has a purpose,
The train to St. Cloud huffs slowly away,
With Homer standing in the wet snow.
There is the old asylum,
The orphanage and home on the hill,
Almost black, with the sunset behind,
Homer begins the long climb.
He approaches slowly.
But then, a burst of laughter
And children from the door
Flock around him, dancing, shrieking,
Some holding him like an errant dog,
Who must be told to stay.
“Will you stay?” they ask.
“I think so,” he smiles in irony.
He is home at the last.
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 10:58 AM UTC
I would rather drink than eat,
And though I superbly sup,
Food, I feel, can never beat
Delectation of the cup.
Wine it is that crowns the feast;
Fish and fowl and fancy meat
Are of my delight the least:
I would rather drink than eat.
Though no Puritan I be,
And have doubts of Kingdom Come,
With those fellows I agree
Who deplore the Demon ***
Gin and brandy I decline,
And I shy at whisky neat;
But give me rare vintage wine,--
Gad! I'd rather drink than eat.
Food surfeit is of the beast;
Wine is from the gods a gift.
All from ********** to priest
Can attest to its uplift.
Green and garnet glows the vine;
Grapes grow plump in happy heat;
Gold and ruby winks the wine . . .
Come! Let's rather drink than eat.
7.4k
A is the Alphabet, A at its head;
A is an Antelope, agile to run.
B is the Baker Boy bringing the bread,
Or black Bear and brown Bear, both begging for bun.
C is a Cornflower come with the corn;
C is a Cat with a comical look.
D is a Dinner which Dahlias adorn;
D is a Duchess who dines with a Duke.
E is an elegant eloquent Earl;
E is an Egg whence an Eaglet emerges.
F is a Falcon, with feathers to furl;
F is a Fountain of full foaming surges.
G is the Gander, the Gosling, the Goose;
G is a Garnet in girdle of gold.
H is a Heartsease, harmonious of hues;
H is a huge Hammer, heavy to hold.
I is an Idler who idles on ice;
I am I--who will say I am not I?
J is a Jacinth, a jewel of price;
J is a Jay, full of joy in July.
K is a King, or a Kaiser still higher;
K is a Kitten, or quaint Kangaroo.
L is a Lute or a lovely-toned Lyre;
L is a Lily all laden with dew.
M is a Meadow where Meadowsweet blows;
M is a Mountain made dim by a mist.
N is a Nut--in a nutshell it grows--
Or a Nest full of Nightingales singing--oh list!
O is an Opal, with only one spark;
O is an Olive, with oil on its skin.
P is a Pony, a pet in a park;
P is the Point of a Pen or a Pin.
Q is a Quail, quick-chirping at morn;
Q is a Quince quite ripe and near dropping.
R is a Rose, rosy red on a thorn;
R is a red-breasted Robin come hopping.
S is a Snow-storm that sweeps o'er the Sea;
S is the Song that the swift Swallows sing.
T is the Tea-table set out for tea;
T is a Tiger with terrible spring.
U, the Umbrella, went up in a shower;
Or Unit is useful with ten to unite.
V is a Violet veined in the flower;
V is a Viper of venomous bite.
W stands for the water-bred Whale;
Stands for the wonderful Wax-work so gay.
X, or ** or *** is ale,
Or Policeman X, exercised day after day.
Y is a yellow Yacht, yellow its boat;
Y is the Yucca, the Yam, or the Yew.
Z is a Zebra, zigzagged his coat,
Or Zebu, or Zoophyte, seen at the Zoo.
7.1k
He loves me, he loves me not
A constant phase and a common thought
Spins like a halo occasionally
And it summons me unforgivingly
He loves me, he loves me not
Don’t lose hope, don’t get caught
Losing florets over the flower shop
So obsessed, I couldn’t stop
For I keep plummeting petals
Hands are excessive pedals
He loves me, he loves me not
My feeling’s loaded, my wisdom’s locked
Aid my soul inside the casket,
over the garden,
My harvested heart bleeds red,
Red as garnet
He loves me, he loves me not
Still waiting for a twist to the plot
Maybe tomorrow or maybe not
I can’t remain forever-aiming and then rot
He loves me, he loves me not
It’s getting cold and it gets hot
I can volunteer to squeeze myself until death
Because I’m running out of guesses
He loves me, he loves me not
A rising action and a falling one
What’s done with the rises,
when I am the fallen one?
I faded once but I’m alright
What a fool, to have another try
Here’s to the planets that can be worthwhile
Jan 1, 2019
Jan 1, 2019 at 11:27 PM UTC
Symbol: The goat
Opposite Sign: Cancer
Meaning: The achiever
Modality: Cardinal
Element: Earth
Ruling House: The tenth
Ruling Body: Saturn
Motto: I build
Birthstone: Garnet
Color: Brown
Metal: Silver
Flower: Carnation
Fragrance: Spearmint
Lucky Day: Saturday
Numbers: 3, 4, 9
Lucky Colors: Red, Pink, Purple, Blue
Lucky Flowers: Cyclamen, Plantain lily, Fittonia
Capricorn is: persevering, patient, conventional, practical and disciplined. Capricorn can be practical, unemotional, sober, orderly, controlling and manipulative.
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 1:25 AM UTC
1072
Title divine—is mine!
The Wife—without the Sign!
Acute Degree—conferred on me—
Empress of Calvary!
Royal—all but the Crown!
Betrothed—without the swoon
God sends us Women—
When you—hold—Garnet to Garnet—
Gold—to Gold—
Born—Bridalled—Shrouded—
In a Day—
Tri Victory
“My Husband”—women say—
Stroking the Melody—
Is this—the way?
5k
Every weekend at summer camp the
Memories of the midnight walks we made,
The rushing of the silvery creeks
As well as the daily art and games,
Entertainment as well as molding clay,
The mountainside at night gave good
Presence, the moon offering her halo,
With the memory of endless essence so,
During this time of adventurous fun,
A story telling we campers would all go.
Her raspy voice, I can remember well,
Those cute sparkly playful brown eyes,
We walked side by side, she told me that
The truth was being denied, she was a
Girl in disguise, how I dream of her
In Garnet, Alexandrite. That feeling of total trust,
Now I will probably never be close to
Anyone I love again, already grown old,
To old to ever dream, but what a dream,
A lovely bliss to know that she was my friend.
One day, when the time is right, we'll find it,
This feeling again, of wild spirited joy, campfires,
Of following the forest path, now innocence lost,
A time that is long-gone and past, and if it
Never happens again, the darkness of night
With quiet whispering, story time moon light,
I will never forget her, never will I forget that
Beautiful freckled face, those beady eyes,
No, never forget you, not for all time.
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 6:43 PM UTC
1146
When Etna basks and purrs
Naples is more afraid
Than when she show her Garnet Tooth—
Security is loud—
3.8k
The forgotten gem among the precious
Your love is too dark for a child
Also precious
Yet pure like a diamond
Diamonds are so common
Garnet, you are rich
Richer than most in quality
Perhaps a banker or lawyer would remember you
But no, sapphires are rich
Richer than dull gold, not rich enough I say
You reach new depths, Garry
Like an ocean trench filled with the remains of the unknown's lunch
Not as deep as the amethyst, apparently
That is spiritually charged and better for the soul
Your violence is a stain, but I say it is a warning
Garnish, you lack value
Topaz is the quality they seek
The eye of the sun, so bright
Too bright
The eye of Jupiter is too much, I say enough
Oh Garnet
Forget Ruby, your sister
Forget Emerald, your opposite
Forget Opal, all in one, the God of the gems
You are Alfred the Great, so great, yet forgotten
Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 4:31 PM UTC
Unicorn Moments
It was Maundy Thursday, an afternoon so lazy
the words of the passion could sink hardly
for my eyes were on the beading tray
the unfinished bracelet was now awry
off and on, i kept stringing
the garnet rounds and pearls kept falling
no more tiny brass rings to string in between
i had to think of other ways...something
also had to wash away the gray feeling.
Searched inside my bedroom drawers
and found silver flower spacers!
i gloried at the thought of finishing two bracelets
three, more, maybe even an anklet!
Three, four hours had passed, i was so exhausted
i had already showered
the whole bathroom was spotless,
smelling of ^Pandan leaves^ and flowers,
i was so delighted!
Outside the bathroom door, i stopped
spotted the shiny silver spacers! on the bed, i almost dropped
the silence was too loud, i couldn't stand the spacers' glare,
nothing to say, nothing to offer... just a stare...
"No! no way!
i'm fine, i'm okay!"
was that my voice that gave me away?
moment of truth could never be held at bay...
I held the cable wire to start beading
but body and mind were one...refusing
my fingers were limp...a bit trembling
tired, from too much scrubbing.
My finger traces the head of my unicorn figurine
God knows, i have loved this magical creature ever since
but, i'm not sure i even like these new visitors, these
unicorn moments,
they don't come often,
yet, they're bound to happen.
oh, well....i guess i have to be a bit bolder
accept these changes that come with growing older...
when this happens, i try to joke and laugh,
and then people say......."you're tough!"
i answer them with a smile...and a gruff!
Sally
Copyright April 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 7:02 AM UTC
Wild child space travel gypsy
drunk on the cosmos
churning a sensual pattern--
melting suns
with a carefree wink
as stars pour into her eyes
like a garnet shiraz
spiraling
in tidal waves
splashing in a crystal wine glass
caressing
her white light lips.
Planets dip and dangle around her hips
as the weight of the nebulous nectar whispers
lullabies to her eyes
as her incandescent hair contours
to copious glistening constellations
rippling across her tired body
like ice dripping on a warm chest
vibrating indigo moonlight jazz
enrapturing millions with her simple act of symphonic yawning
as the dusk light dawning over faces
embraces souls stirring--
her purring hip cat dreams
leave people like us with mouths agape
as her voluptuousness nape hushes
us with a supernova explosion of peace
oscillating between
each of our spirits.
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 10:55 PM UTC
An opaque kiss, crept over his spirit,
Drifted with petal-like grace, spilled warm
In forget-me-not pastels;
He enters The Dream'......
The soft breath of night
Dusts lash-bound eyes with dream;
There,
Night mists wander a lace like solitude,
Lost in euphoric infinity,
Where his blue ripples speak waterfalls
Pooling to silence...
The moon tossed down a shimmering cloth,
Her Midas light, turning his limbs to gold;
A name, echoed softly, like river minutes,
A winding breath, a tingled song of awakening,
Of lullaby in whispers and nuance,
Ghost-kissing the curve of an aching thigh...
Crave induced,
The magic in her hip-sway, crossed
The arch of his dreams;
Where she flowed half-held by darkness;
A garnet flame flickering the
Tussled locks of Autumn stained hair,
Trailing her skin, like eager limbs parting
A dream horizon's shore...
Her impish August skin,
Bathed him in words that woke his willing flesh,
Tracing the haunted subtlety of desire;
Here, amongst the echoes of the pulsing night,
Heart to heart, breath to breath,
Her fingers tenderly caressed delicate dreams on the silken hardness
Of his shadow serenade...
Passion coursed his blood, an esoteric tune
Suckled the sweet sutra;
Her taste,
Burning the star of his mouth,
Tasting the breath of moan,
A song,
Hovering like a silver bauble, drifting in past breaths,
Sinking into chaotic bliss, deepening the eclipse of seductive fusion...
His face, dark, breathed hot upon her psyche,
A captive heart beating against his palm;
"Be Mine" unfolds,
While "Yours" is spread wide, refractive on skin,
A brand, where fingers trace hips, slowly swallowing hidden breath;
His tongue slide, afire with the heat of a thousand suns, and
Rose tinted limbs scream, with eyes closed,
And he watches as she burns.......
Love came quietly as a whispered dream.........
Aug 29, 2012
Aug 29, 2012 at 2:18 PM UTC
Eyes meet
In the corner coffee stall
Flint and tinder
All this time
Hello there!
Scrambling
Words all tumble
Scintillating
Knocking tables
Metal legs airborne
Clawing madly
Un-crisping collars
Found you
On the garnet cushions
Back to life
Imagination spinning
Staring at me
Whoops
Having daydreams
Once again.
Oct 5, 2012
Oct 5, 2012 at 4:39 AM UTC
***** of echoes, the virile resonance quaking lust -
Throbbing caverns shudder to ****** inciting vestal musk
Entranced of nocturnal bedevilment - barefaced in galactic greens,
Spores ethereal yet concealed to the Queen
Sumptuous omphalos; her ecstatic womb engulfing the bloom,
Carnal reckonings devoid of Mosaic release as panting creatures swoon
Vigorous pollination morphing the nectarean sheath
Roused stamen shrivel in an animus induced retreat
Again we'll rise to salute our idol
In burning continuance:
Fertility extolled
With pleasure recompensed.
Nov 20, 2012
Nov 20, 2012 at 7:51 PM UTC
Your cruel crimson lips
Blood dripping from your finger tips
My love a shattered work of art
The result of my broken heart
Splatters of scarlet hope
Mark the sheets where we eloped
My love a discarded virginity
The result of my mistaken affinity
Garnet was the decadent shade
Of the dress that veiled my vestal glade
My love a slippery hemline
The result of my relentless pine
The rusty curls on your head
Delivered me willingly into the bed
My love a handful of tangled hair
The result of my wanton affair
The flowers he sent were red
Reluctantly, I told him you were dead
My love a half-hearted lie
The result of my wandering eye
A ring offered, of ruby and gold
Silver is better, but I was sold
My love a rehearsed song
The result of my doing wrong
A burgundy kiss for a charming knight
A wedding of chastity white
My love a perfected role
The result of my injured soul
An artificial cherry-flavored ***********
Sloppy second copulation
My love a feigned first
The result of my unquenched thirst
The sheet is stained with merlot
Out with the trash, then he will never know
My love a memorized line
The result of my spilled debaucherous wine.
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 2:53 AM UTC
Leo ♌️
~~~
Leo has birthstones of Onyx, Peridot,Ruby,
Even Turquoise,Amber,Citrine,Larimar,Petalite
Or Fire Agate,Red Garnet,Sunstones,Sardonyx
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written by Philip.
December 22nd 2018.
Dec 21, 2018
Dec 21, 2018 at 11:33 PM UTC
The Lady is a month to me, A title and half her name;
Her mask sustains the mystery, the beauty beneath the chains.
The pompous men explain, about Christ in all his passion,
But they know not the pain, of a life spent folding napkins;
To serve and serve in silence, with no whisper of complaint,
The quiet of a painting and the patience of a saint.
Hold her petals gently, lad, but the stem you must grasp firm,
My Rose, a perfect pupil, never shy to grow and learn.
I'm sorry if I crossed you, it was only with respect,
As every rogue treats treasure, we must mark it with an X.
I could only give you words, and sadly I have known,
In truth what you deserved, was a kingdom of your own.
The maid will get her palace, and her carpets crimson red,
Fine wine in her chalice and gold ropes around her bed.
But first, we'll to the ballroom, along paths with gems inlayed,
The bedding will come later; there's other games yet to be played.
We'll dance there, Miss December, On the garnet tiled floor,
And every stance of mine will render, Love incarnate; underscored.
I know I wasn't perfect. No, your Highness, not the best,
And though I haven't earned it, for your kindness I was blessed.
So now lend your Bard his drummer and he'll sing for you a tune,
Compare your eyes to summer, if your name was Lady June.
Yet, I think the winter fitting, and I do not mean the cold.
For I'm on concrete city benches sitting, dreaming of your soul.
I sit beside a western shore and look at western seas,
The water has no more joy for me, the Lady's in the East.
The poem turns to rambling, but I'm half-drunk and it's late.
I only hope she's understanding, what my garbled words would state.
You know your Master's only letters, not a thing to see or feel;
And though I can't do better, at least for me, the words were real.
Jul 28, 2011
Jul 28, 2011 at 8:05 AM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
Grab her and hold her tight slick,
You only got one chance at this,
Do you make her smile and tell
Her things like " peek-a-boo ",
Like fake lovers do,
I'm looking right at you,
Your mind is here,
But her body is somewhere else,
Somewhere,
Where she doesn't have to hear your
Horrible jokes,
Somewhere,
Paraphrasing all things in your life as a hoax,
Should have stuck with a rose,
Be we all know,
That sometimes a rose signifies death,
If she comes back , will you take care of
Yourself?
You're not looking so good,
Maybe the hospice will help,
Well....
I'm thinking out loud at the moment,
Or T.O.L.A.T.M I suppose,
That You texted to me when you gave
This long speech about getting her back,
Had nothing to do with that,
But like a dumb *** I replied right back,
So slow and simple minded,
Bored and dumbfounded,
You're fifty shades of ****** up,
With a side of punches from Garnet,
Smell it.
•=•
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 10:21 PM UTC
So much red water
Coming down on me like rain
The red water
Is their pleasure and my pain
The red water
Shades of rouge on my skin stain
The red water water
Filled with particles unnamed
But the red water
Ashamed to say it gives me life
It's pure torture
Yet it is also nice
I spill water
Pluck your veins like a guitar
Liquid ruby
Garnet star
No more red water
Abstained because of my wrath
Oh well,
Time for a red bubble bath
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 7:32 PM UTC
jeg var.
En latterlig københavner, som spillede dit spil
En fanatisk tøs, gjorde dig til min porcelænsdukke.
køen til dit hjerte er vokset
jeg er bange for at stå bagerst,
skubber min kurv frem.
prøver at springe over.
DET ER MIG
skriger jeg, men du er døv.
måske.
jeg er.
Bundet af snørebåndende fra andres sko
Kvalt i garnet fra dit lange Kashmir tørklæde.
elsker ind til spindet.
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 6:39 AM UTC
In the morning, I gather my thoughts of yesterday
Like the foraging chipmunk, collecting acorns
And stuffing them miserly in my jowls
The past is sustenance for a somnolent soul
As age condemns my faculties
I pull, from my once copious jowl
A jewel of sorts
A garnet set in fool’s gold
My memory is manufactured
Assembled and disassembled
No longer what was or is or will be
But was and is and never has been
I confine my thoughts to winter
Where barren fields and sterile trees
Offer less to recollect
And empty my jaws of these useless reminiscences
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 7:11 AM UTC
I would say my wrists bled
garnet
scarlet
like something
imperial and pure
But all I saw was dirt
and poppy stained tissues
and razor blades all over the floor
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 7:32 PM UTC
If fusion were just
a cheap trick to
make gems stronger,
then would Garnet
have even found
Sapphire and Ruby
to begin with?
Is our comfort made
from presence or
conversation and
which is stronger?
The side effect of
unconditions is that
thing expectation
dreads; some book
already read
turned its page and said:
I am made of love, boldly
with inflated lungs, but
what is love
even made of?
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 11:55 PM UTC
The rich crimson blood that pours from your veins,
like garnet;
sweet tints of ruby and rose.
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 5:43 PM UTC