"gladdened" poems
450
Dreams—are well—but Waking’s better,
If One wake at morn—
If One wake at Midnight—better—
Dreaming—of the Dawn—
Sweeter—the Surmising Robins—
Never gladdened Tree—
Than a Solid Dawn—confronting—
Leading to no Day—
7.9k
There once was a man named Beowulf
Who was fiercer than a demon or werewolf
Except that he had a flaw
A dragon made him mortally sore
This prologue is prophetic
To the ending of this epic
So I’ll tell you more
Beowulf made his mind up at twenty-three
He would race his friend to swim across the sea
But fighting many sea monsters is quite trial
Beowulf only caught up in the final mile
Poor Beowulf, fierce as a werewolf
His equal would be hard to find
Though Breca nearly beat him
He managed to defeat him
But he would make up his mind
Beowulf made his mind up in his head
He would battle Grendel until one was dead
But even though his strength could cause a lot of harm
Beowulf only severed Grendel’s left arm
Poor Beowulf, fierce as a werewolf
His equal would be hard to find
Though Grendel he had saddened
Beowulf wasn’t gladdened
And he would make up his mind
Beowulf made his mind up then and there
He’d **** Grendel’s mother in her watery lair
Although the angry tarn-hag had put up a fight
Both monsters were beheaded that very night
Poor Beowulf, fierce as a werewolf
His equal would be hard to find
He took a child and mother
Like Cain had killed his brother
But he had made up his mind
Beowulf made his mind up when he was old
To slay a raging dragon of whom he’d been told
But Beowulf couldn’t deal with the dragon’s fire
And he was later burned atop a funeral pyre
Poor Beowulf, fierce as a werewolf
His equal would be hard to find
He once was a great hero
And now his worth is zero
But he would make up his mind
Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 1:34 PM UTC
Prosecco cocktails, être pour la danse,
cassis pour moi avec limoncello,
madame, passion fruit, and blood oranges
très grownup, breakfast at Tiffany's,
she is all sunglasses and Audreyfied,
me and George P., struggling writers,
checking if i got enough cash
or have to exit smooth, just in case,
maybe we leave our
coats behind, as ransom?
lincoln center plaza cross-dressers,
past the opera,
the sun, a balmy thirty five degrees,
laughing at us teasingly,
cause tonight and tomorrow,
*********** all the day,
winter kisses
in case we forgot,
early March
first belongs to the Ides of Winter
Afternoon of a Faun,
another ballet, origin,
a Mallarmé poem.
(you begin to comprehend)
yes quite so,
a perfect synopsis of the day,
Acheron imported from Scarlett Liam
who lives in the U.K.,
but comes to choreograph here,
for gloria Americana
sundown, soul cold back,
"lest we forget,"
but the dancers bid us adieu
with a rousing waltz, frenchified,
La Valse, une poème chorégraphique,
by Ravel, bien sûr!
aroused and heart gladdened,
return home for
for veal chop love
two hours of *** banging,
kitchen banishment, (Yay!)
chanterelles steeped in red wine,
coverlet for a non-vegan tasting,
English peas, red and purple potatoes,
and for desert,
a diet dream of verbal exchanged of detailed
I love you's
He: I love you,
She (happy), replies: I love you more.
(this repartee ballet, has been rehearsal danced before)
He: Why?
She: Because you are kind and generous, to street beggars, my single friends, good and smart, love art,
and never let me down, and love my cooking, leave space for others when you park, go thru life making waiters and ticket takers smile and laugh, sleep for hours your head on my hip, write me crazy love poems about veal chops
He: What's for desert tonight?
She: A ****
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 8:41 PM UTC
My phone has been hacked,
I feel gladdened to know, that
Someone's interested,
In what paltry things I say,
To my mother.
Jul 11, 2011
Jul 11, 2011 at 8:14 AM UTC
"my day will be different today"
she declares, when she sees herself hidden in
in a passing spending and breaking broken
drive-by scribbled-pretend, urgent poem,
stumbled upon by a heavenly calculated accident
gladdened, saddened. now dressed to the nines,
that piece of me, wherever it be, the parade ground,
where the words and letters assemble,
where the firemen train,
adding logs, love, accursed ego,
to the hearth,
steady on burning, to practice putting out the
ohms and uh-uh's
of electrical resistance that
your response, a shiny knife of a self-reflecting observation
has...ho ** **
sparkling stabbing mirror
this one, a simple script, a written pyramid,
built by an Israelite, who by command, perforce
mustn't but does write prophecies
that may or may not come to being,
poem pyramids,
surely none will not survive Darius's desert sandstorms
ravaging kisses of time's forgetting
but your simple complementation
fits inside quite nicely, for its simplicity,
because it is a
provocation stabbing piercing a self-questioning, of
why to write I need pen paper and ink,
and don't forget those stupid teardrops in the clear vial
the Zola j'accuse
of every poet, even the gone-ones,
looking down
at highest bar in poetry!
did I really do that?
even for a brief moment,
a nanosecond,
me words
modify the entire continental shelf
that another writer occupies,
change its axis, the rate of spin,
the angle of another's
solitary human's day
nah
all i did was read (all) her poetry, imaging imaginng
a life so foreign, putting me inside of thee, and
let my stubs, the remains of worn fingers do the rest
so I guess it could be true
what you wrote,
but about me
"my day will be different today"
and why I practice this
wonderfully ridiculous
craft,
cause the pay is so
**** good
10:36am
Sep 30, 2017
Sep 30, 2017 at 10:56 AM UTC
through the vortex
of clouds
god, princely.
a thousand angels
spread their wings
floating whiter than the moon.
trumpets thunder
we are reborn, forgiven
our hearts gladdened in joy.
only you and your love, my lord,
only you and your love
a second in time
and prayer
awakening the ether
trembling, thankful.
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 10:59 AM UTC
Though I love those dark clouds
and though I love the rain -
how it brightened my heart
when the sun came out again
The sky - a sea of tranquility
as peaceful as could be
calm I felt when those warm rays
rested upon me
I'm sure I heard the roses laugh
saw carnations turn a richer hue
how could they but not smile
upon a sky so blue
I saw the lake ripple merrier
in silver, copper streams
glistening with flowing joy
how it glimmered and beamed
Though I love those dark clouds
and I love the rain... I do
but how my heart gladdened today
for I can do with sunshine too
I hope the sun lingers long
shining through sheesham trees
for I love the way his rays rested..
so softly upon me
Sep 9, 2016
Sep 9, 2016 at 7:49 AM UTC
Never seen one this lovely, gladdened with the purity of the midnight rain, magnificent she is in all her graces
The whirlwind gave way when her haunches swayed
With palms as soft as the pine, a touch from them sent me on a flight of fantasy
Her peats stood firm as the atlas
To honey no other compare,for it is the sweetest but then you should taste her rosy lips
And if the zephyrus was mild, then you should hear her speak
The stars were bright but her eyes were the brightest for in them I saw the reason for rainbows
Her face shone so much radiance like the full moon at the peak of her aphrodisiac
Every wisp of her hair was of the finest silk and when she smiled the world took form
Her aura so distinct as the scented ointment of spikenard
This beauty is all I want to know,for it ignites a quivering sensation in my bones springing forth the passions of my meek soul
For you I would pick the roses of the empyrean
Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 5:39 PM UTC
It isn't the days that hit me
hard, it is the nights
When, I admit it, I am overcome
and underwhelmed and shaken
I am ashamed to be a human being
To be a part of a race that so violently
mocks any shred of real humanity
And I am selfish and wretched
And I want to love other people
But all it does is make me feel sick
What are we doing to each other?
Self-destruction never stops with you
Perfection is unattainable and that is alright
Not enough understanding
And too much fear
I am proud and I am wrong and I sin
But I would rather dance the fool
I would rather never heal
Than watch what damage we do each other
This is our world we've inherited
But it will ever be on loan to our children
Children who will grow up
To be riddled with the fears of a dying world
And to be burned with the hate
And wickedness we have been sowing for ages
You can't fix it all
But when you are faced with a choice --
Your agency cannot be stolen
Your deeds will define you in ways none of us understand
And I wish to God
That I will make those who are yet-to-be gladdened
Aug 10, 2011
Aug 10, 2011 at 5:22 PM UTC
Poor girl never is truly satisfied
By the grotesque figure that stares back at her
Distorted features cut by the broken glass
In the mirror
That little crack in the corner
That creeps it's way down like a spider
Attacking her reflection
In shame, she runs away
Tears flowing easily
As she purges her problems repeatedly
Little naive girl never is truly gladdened
Grabbing at her skin
And pulling it
Stretching it
To look the way she sees herself
She looks up for a moment
And the beautiful child
Who once had life in her cheeks and the world in her hands
Is absent
A stranger stares back her
With a gaunt looking physique
All color drained from her face
Her skin blotchy
Her hair thinning
Dull eyes deep in their sockets
Highlighted by dark circles
All of this seems to be no problem
Throw on some makeup
Braid your hair
And that's taken care of
But aching neck down is all disappointment to her
After every scanty meal
She sneaks off
To cleanse herself of imperfections
surprised that no one has yet to notice
She desperately runs to the dreaded mirror
Where she sees no difference
And this sad little girl beats herself out of frustration
Bashing her brittle bones
Poor girl, be satisfied
Mar 15, 2012
Mar 15, 2012 at 8:25 PM UTC
It just came into my mind, to write you something.
Though you don't deserve, and to you I am nothing.
Oh hundreds of days passed us by,
and I still remember that look into your eye.
You know, I was caught by your charm.
Oh how I wanted to be in your arms.
But it feels like a forbidden thing,
so I did what is right, to you I didn't cling.
Here I am, with my pen and reminiscing.
I can till feel the thrill- I am still smiling.
One day I hope to see you around,
I want to be enraptured by your sound.
However, there might be someone who owns your heart.
And perhaps, for you it is a beautiful start.
I will be delighted and won't demand for more things to happen.
To see you...just to see you again- I will be truly gladdened.
-Steph Dionisio, Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 6:57 AM UTC
i am hard gladdened
warm calm wind flows through my soul
my eye see's it's last
May 13, 2024
May 13, 2024 at 1:20 PM UTC
At the outset of a variable weather day
Sunlight spangles danced in the skies above
Was such a brilliance of radiant beams
As mid afternoon drew closer a change did arrive
In the grey smudged clouds rolled
Replacing the bright morn's festival
Whereupon came a moistening festival
Raindrops fell for the rest of the day
Down the damp quenching rolled
The billows unloading from high above
Which farmers were gladdened to see arrive
Their worried brows begat more calming beams
Fields lush in verdant vibrant green beams
The wetting so joyous of a happy festival
Dutiful was the timely drink's arrive
A difference made within a single day
Welcome were the heavy showers gifted above
Pasture lands looking minted and gold rolled
The reverse clime's dices had been rolled
Water storages filled with streaming beams
Such a gracious endowment up above
Unto landholders giving a grand festival
Altering the complexion of the day
Providence surrendered on needed arrive
A goodly amount of thirst saving did arrive
On the dark masses prospect being rolled
There was an improved outlook to the day
Ever men of acreage seek hopeful beams
So they can enjoy a precipitation festival
Wishing upon the receipt in clouds above
In their thoughts what is happening above
When will the heaven's bestowments arrive
Always championing the dowsing's festival
Then for them soils ideally bank rolled
On conditions being sated so nicely of beams
Will the soaking occur on this day
Festival glee awaited in the atmosphere above
Day did dawn with a dazzling sun's arrive
Rolled by the promise of eve's drenching beams
Aug 30, 2016
Aug 30, 2016 at 7:15 AM UTC
only in a multicultural england
was a proud nation defaced
upon with hopes of encouraging
a stereotype of cabbage and plumber;
while also encouraging israeli
fascism; you'd think that the same
nation never took to the skies
and fought the nazis to keep
a gladdened entourage of children
following through to a bombastically
plump resolve of contentment;
and in defence of such tactic...
i'd like you to speak me a word of urdu
or hindi, rather than making me
a watered down curry; as you make me
a watered down 5p.m. brew.
Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 2:55 AM UTC
Wrest my head from this,
a twinge as illusive as pins.
Rake the bottom lore,
as off the mark as 'sins'.
I'm neither lessened
nor strengthened,
I reek of applemore and soot.
I draw and I leave unconceived.
I grow without practice.
I denote without lye.
I smile hopeless, with gladdened reprieve.
My pallbearer whistles,
and thinks of my joke.
I painted enough. He believes.
Turn tears now to grinning,
as I've learned the unbluff.
May I end this long night with a seed.
Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 7:35 AM UTC
Encircling...I dare the Full--
pluck eyes from their nooks,
mind from its niche.
I, incumbent of all lines drawn
and crossed...wear the metaphoric
face of All Things.
My redundant farewell is a galactic
backlog....as memory asks: may I be
excused from these tables?
By light's celerity, light all the more...
One in One, and out of One in One--
foreknowledge to Knowledge.
Encircling...I dare the Full--emissary
to mine own circle, with news so
pressing I stumble into deaths cut to
new forms of life.
I waver my convalescence, discharge
myself from the throes of creation...
a gladdened prophecy...self-fulfilled.
Encircling...I dare the Full.
Jun 10, 2012
Jun 10, 2012 at 2:21 AM UTC
The Weather Channel, ubiquitous,
Who among us does not have this app,
On their phone, computer, mobile device
Ready for a quick scan..
Odd topic for an essay,
Strange, that your poetic silence
Should be broken this way,
Then again, you didn't inquire,
Or even notice it had gone missing.
Yet the channel/app of which I write,
Is mobile, and certainly, applies to each of us
But cannot be found on any device but in our hearts..
When we awaken,
The temperature is taken,
A glance upon your visage
Reveals rested or irritable,
Blue clouds or storm warnings,
Better dress appropriately...
But even this is not the forecast
Of which my heart and words speak,,
The whether I need, the thermometer reading,
The barometric pressure that needs knowing,
Measures whether you love me still,
Love me more, love me better,
Than the last poem/day we just wrote/recorded,
Yesterday...
The waters we will yet navigate,
The sky we shall observe,
Cloud shapes to design and designate,
A fortune to prognosticate,
Is the sum of the fortunes/forecasts we create daily.
Our weather is our good fortune,
And strangely the forecast is the same daily,
Whether fair or hurricane,
Whether gladdened or pained,
Our forecast, ours,
Our forecast, unique,
Our forecast, let us record it into reality,
When we awaken entangled,
Looking out the window and envision,
Predicting our life-scape.
May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 9:56 AM UTC
Just another soft spot to bump a thump for a thud that this time finally, proudly could be the long awaited announcement I'd been searching for.
A deep and heavy voice boomed in reply, "I am Hollow, how's all abouts the Do for you today my dear?"
I was slightly taken aback by the fine display of manners.
"Oh,me oh my! So deeply obliged, you took a stop with a thought to ask so when I say, don't act surprised."
Since I surely had indeed been the party calling person, I'd better fancy making proper telling of my Name. But before I did me muster up some suiting gumption for a gab , I heard the haunting husk of a raspy kind of gasp, it was Hollow keen to ask me, "have You come about the Shaft?"
I excitedly replied, "I've been busy bumping thumping thuds all across the Land hoping I would hear a hollow kind of thud coming from the Desert Sands."
But, oh my goodness if I truly thumped my thud in the mud, I wondered must I then descend down that deeply dark and doozy kind of danger way below?
Then it appeared out of nowhere!! I had the Magic Answer in a sing along song with a pocket tight rhythm gots me dancing and a'singing, "There's a piece of a part of the seat of my soul that's awaiting my return at the bottom of this hole. And as I do recall, it was surely you with your haunting Hollow tune and endless droning echo that reverberated my vertebrae so long ago, and so much so that I lost a litte piece of my Soul."
With one final question that I had left to pop, "Is it still with you at the bottom of that drop?? Cause, I've got a grand idea that will bring It to the top. It's a funky fly vibration called Acoustic Levitation!!"
So, I cheered up and down as I swung myself around in a turn to tell to Hollow, "When you kindly wind your voice up the scale from lowest note to high, then my piece of soul will riseth, it will hear my gladdened cry."
It shall float atop the soul note that IS perfectly wrote just for me and my Soul's harmony. It's been such the perfect ending, All's happy and together, at last finally!!!!!!
So never stop bumping for the thump and the thud that is you cause it's really out there somewhere and it's asking, what to do!!!!
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 3:09 PM UTC
Often by Stop-Signs are our Programs fed
And now this News which caused our Hearts to Break
To chase the Deer aware of your Event
Up-Turn the based Barge; And shattered your sake
With that we loyal Cousins our arms Up-Lift
Plead with His Providence we call the Lord
Whose Throne seeds Evidence by Mercy's Gift
Ask, then beseech His Divine Healing Word
In the meantime, Faith we subscribe and wait
At least gladdened maintain your lively Chi
Which soon, the Eightie's Tribe secures your fate
And restore the Cat-Loved Actor that be.
We'll sit by the bench. And allow your rest
By the next Tinsel's Month return at your Best.
Mar 20, 2013
Mar 20, 2013 at 2:27 AM UTC
Rest in torpor
Mi amour
I'll awaketh thou in the morn
Wherein the sun shalt free us
Balladrys we'll be
Coacting with ourn lips
Clove-pinks to essence ourn wayside
Expanse of ourn high regard
Not as the others love
Drinking sorrows to rye and hard
Exonerate me for mine day
Ourn bodies as foliaceous
Don't worry amour
I got the mess from last night's dishes
Foliose ourn quills shalt be
Thou hast gladdened me
To wake another marvelous hour with thou
How doth one do this somehow!?
She's and angel!!!!!
Tis
All I know
Intrant of this intrados
Mine all
Mine most
Mine jute berry
Lantana of mine linterna brightly accumulating
Exhilarating!!!
Lar of ourn humbled abode
Didst thou knowest
That thy heart is mine home
Tis
It is
Tis
Tis
It is!!!!
Thou communicator to God!!!!!
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 6:14 PM UTC
after looking in on how
Jen's selections were faring
they indicated that they'd
be very nicely squaring
was pleasing to see
most of them reaching
the front cover's face
only the odd one
was put in another
compartment's space
it so gladdened Jen
when her options
got colossal views
she has a consistency
in this area which make
for better reviews
those pieces she's
given a re-showing
are set to be bathed
with a bright glowing
oh yes dear Jen
can't be beat
on choosing
something real neat
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 7:58 AM UTC
Eureka! it's Christmas time again!
A time to reminisce about seasons past
of pizzas hot, cup cakes, icing coated snacks,
home-made lemonade, champagne and Santa's sacks
of choicest toys, newly produced and recast.
Eureka! laughter pervades the plain!
for dazzling lights of astonishing colours
exhibit rare heavenly multicolours
for the yuletide's ambience of pomp and pageantry
in every country tropical and wintry.
Eureka! it's Santa's express train!
A very pleasant holiday time indeed.
When a dream becomes wonderland for a kid
who takes a trip in Santa Claus's speed sleigh
in this great and awesome paradise for play.
Eureka! it's the ding **** season!
A time to raise sweet voices for a reason
A time to sing a heart warming and sweet hymn
in well lit Cathedrals that are hardly dim.
Eureka! it's Christmas time again!
Ding **** the much awaited Christmas bells chime.
The gladdened poor are cheery without a dime,
whilst the rich is cheery with his loaded barn,
each of them spending as much dough as they can.
Oct 2, 2021
Oct 2, 2021 at 8:10 AM UTC
What's it, what's it that makes me smile-
when I think of thee for a while?
Let t'is sunshine, balmy and dry-
warm our hearts as it walks by.
O but today my heart gladdened-
yet as we stared my cheeks reddened!
Upon my journeys down, downstairs-
'midst th' morning and evening airs.
Thy handsome face came into view,
made my feelings dance like white dew.
Th' moment thou showed me that grin-
I knew that my heart thou would win.
Thy presence was but a rhythm,
th' best that my heart could employ.
One a tempest could not destroy-
one destiny could not fathom.
Thy being is th' love I wish,
in my wild dreams and fantasies!
Ah! and thy soul just what I outta please;
a fate my maidenhood shan't miss.
I'll wait for my victorious night-
when no-one else is within sight.
Thy arms opened awide for me;
as I swing outside to find thee.
And I but hope later that day;
thou wilt no longer leave and stay.
To own th' lips I'm fated to kiss,
and wed our love in sacred bliss.
Feb 8, 2013
Feb 8, 2013 at 1:47 PM UTC