"gravest" poems
In gravest, gravels of untouched soil,
Spearhead of purple, beyond the pale,
One statue of siege upon a windy foil,
What mires meek airs in all you survey?
Like a frost of summers, you are lord,
To hold that seed in your spiny face,
Depressions of land your promontory,
All up with arms, iron clad as a mace,
Beneath you, the grown motley fields
Are desolate, all flowers bled, blender,
Spiders and birds know you unyielding
The lost aleatory scent of no surrender.
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 7:16 PM UTC
Have you wondered that the greatest satisfaction comes from one's own deed to help needy people in the gravest situations.
Nov 28, 2015
Nov 28, 2015 at 11:16 AM UTC
$ $ $
Because I hate money
as money hates me,
I will out-live my debt
and be buried for free.
My gravest desire:
die poor, with no coffin,
that Death may unharden
what Life could not soften.
Because money hates me
I sometimes hate God,
(though I never served Mammon)
so SHOVEL, you clod,
while I speak from the grave;
a cadaver with class:
come strew a few flowers
and cover my ***
(Or cover my assets
financially
so my corpse doesn’t lie
like a liability.)
Because money hates me
I’ll leave it to you
to savor my point of
funereal view.
Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 10:30 PM UTC
Don't be scared in the face of darkness.
Let it cloak you inside its blankets.
There is nothing to see nor to hear
in this numbing cocoon - it's safe here.
Fear the light - it deceives, it blinds,
Lures you in with its warmth, but hides
gravest dangers right in the shallows.
Where there's light there're always shadows.
When a shadow crawls, reaches for you
It's too late to run. Your fate is doomed.
Oct 28, 2021
Oct 28, 2021 at 6:15 PM UTC
In gravest, gravels of untouched soil,
Spearhead of purple, beyond the pale,
One statue of siege upon a windy foil,
What mires meek airs in all you survey?
Like a frost of summers, you are lord,
To hold that seed in your spiny face,
Depressions of land your promontory,
All up with arms, iron clad as a mace,
Beneath you, the grown motley fields
Are desolate, all flowers bled, blender,
Spiders and birds know you unyielding
The lost aleatory scent of no surrender.
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 9:46 PM UTC
In gravest, gravels of untouched soil,
Spearhead of purple, beyond the pale,
One statue of siege upon a windy foil,
What mires meek airs in all you survey?
Like a frost of summers, you are lord,
To hold that seed in your spiny face,
Depressions of land your promontory,
All up with arms, iron clad as a mace,
Beneath you, the grown motley fields
Are desolate, all flowers bled, blender,
Spiders and birds know you unyielding
The lost aleatory scent of no surrender.
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 2:57 PM UTC
tonight,
my shadow settles
in a different corner of the world
and his obscures me
content to hang on my frame
shielding any light from my eyes
faith's grievance -
the gravest sin I'd commit
salt to skin
faith's only albatross -
the bits of faith I'd toss
like Ms. Greenwood's dress
into the darkest parts of New York
like I think of my name
winking into the fixed abyss
indifferent to its prior disguise
when it does not leave the lungs enough
and on the height of my fuss,
inspiration flees
like a sour gust through the city at night
- a hint of death
a tinge of it on my hands
the void I fault for its expanse
promises to snarl his shadow from my shoulder
invites me into its limbo
desperately whines my title
it calls with little confidence,
but I linger to step in
flecks of gray interrupting the black
wafting,
purposeless black
will I?
will I live, wander the world's breadth
with the impetus of two dead legs
or will I become a cry of breath?
I flirt with two dooms,
swinging like a two-phase-moon;
stay, go, stay, go
weighing the whimper of my soul
against brain's drive to die alone
Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 10:27 PM UTC
There once was a man
with the gravest of frowns,
hung like a ham
by the folk of his town
who wanted to see
if his sad mouth might be
any happier turned upsidedown ..
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 2:38 PM UTC
In gravest, gravels of untouched soil,
Spearhead of purple, beyond the pale,
One statue of siege upon a windy foil,
What mires meek airs in all you survey?
Like a frost of summers, you are lord,
To hold that seed in your spiny face,
Depressions of land your promontory,
All up with arms, iron clad as a mace,
Beneath you, the grown motley fields
Are desolate, all flowers bled, blender,
Spiders and birds know you unyielding
The lost aleatory scent of no surrender.
Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 11:19 PM UTC
.
In gravest, gravels of untouched soil,
Spearhead of purple, beyond the pale,
One statue of siege upon a windy foil,
What mires meek airs in all you survey?
Like a frost of summers, you are lord,
To hold that seed in your spiny face,
Depressions of land your promontory,
All up with arms, iron clad as a mace,
Beneath you, the grown motley fields
Are desolate, all flowers bled, blender,
Spiders and birds know you unyielding
The lost aleatory scent of no surrender.
Jan 22, 2017
Jan 22, 2017 at 10:08 PM UTC
Your gravest danger
giving up
ceasing to believe
I can still do
wondrous things
in your world.
Keep moving forward
depending on Me
trusting
expecting a path
to open before you.
Refreshingly new
Behold
I will do a new thing
I am making a way
a way in the desert
and streams
in the wasteland.
Cj 2016
Aug 20, 2016
Aug 20, 2016 at 9:35 PM UTC
Oh, gravest star!
Such a wary little lighthouse
watching in the dark
our miseries and poignant pleas
how bored you must be!
For so sat I, embattled in a café
these grumbling bones in order stowed:
first old lovers, with naked buds
makeshift friends dancing upon their nose
second, young Thomas Toy
his hands tied, his feet cold
a warning melting in his mouth:
"This verse," he told me, "remember the key."
"How so?" I dared ask.
"Remember the stumbling block of sleep.
Remember, and let it keep.
With so much hope, I can near see it:
of friends already fallen
their paths of his design
of a life, or least, a feeling
its colors undefined
of hands unused, though worn
furrowing with waste
If so, I couldn’t blame you
for drowning in the sea
in truth, I would near desire it—
just to light the dark
yes, light the dark
and meet the world beneath.
But jealousy aside
you cannot long to die
in hindsight, even worse—
we’re all a second gamble.
Oh, beloved star
just a laughing little lighthouse
watching in the dark
our miseries and poignant pleas
how happy you must be.
Jul 6, 2011
Jul 6, 2011 at 9:38 PM UTC
Is passion merely state of mind
or is it simply skill?
Could passion truly be the kind
of feeling that can ****
A noble soldier: strong and pure;
does passion fill his heart?
Does passion sail a gentler shore:
a painter’s love for art?
Emotions soar like shooting stars:
they flicker, shine, then burn;
can passion cover up the scars
and let the light return?
Can passion offer strength to stand
against your gravest fear?
Extend a loving, helpful hand
when failure seems so near?
A heartfelt whisper in the night:
the will to bear the pain;
does passion grant the strength to fight:
the will to break the chain?
To clear the path: unlock the door;
is passion but the key?
Question life and love no more;
just be all you can be.
As moments pass and seasons end
your targets are in range;
passion is your closest friend
now fight to make the change.
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 8:53 PM UTC
There is a fear that beckons heavy shivers,
Summons enveloping shutters,
Brings cold cringes and endless, eternal tears
Constrains me in the Stygian night
Convulses my chest without the pinpoint ray of light
Physically it cannot harm me,
Just detain in cold dark
Though attacking the innocent, malicious—and holy
Never has it fossilized anyone such as I
To be tossed without trying,
To fail without attempting,
To submit without fighting,
To die without living—
My gravest, deadliest, most harrowing fear
Is that I die without any acts at all.
Without friends, hope, or even soul
Just debilitating terror...
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 9:36 PM UTC
I’ve once heard musings
Of recitation reflecting an area
Of negligence that should
Never go forsaken.
Now, it is through my dismay
Which triggers my optimism
To lead me to believe this
Recapitulation has been
Extricated through a
Satirical voice.
However, in the event
That theses musings are
In fact, coming from
A discernible veracity,
Then I have done to you
The gravest disservice I would never
Dream to impart.
Allow this to act as my
Expression of regret
In this particular field
Of verbal lavishing.
Before the moment
You were my salacious secret
And preliminary to my yearning
For parallel mutual devotion
My capabilities of a
Tactile sense of normality
Were fleeting
Forever consigned to oblivion
Until the moment I
Allowed the craving to coalesce
With the collective.
It was then that I realized
The stimulus of my exuberance
Was not a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Rather, one brought on
When we lay entwined
Within one another.
Further musings have been vocalized,
Drawing sight upon the fact
I am twenty-one grams lighter
Than the commune.
Albeit, these musings have
Been satirical in merit,
The inherent truth
Is not controvertible.
Thus was the preceding case
To our amalgamation.
You are the sole vindication
I have a soul.
If there has ever
Been inequity
In my necessity to
Opulent you with
My own verbal musings
I do hope this
Can act as verbatim
If there should be
Any negligence within
This particular field of
Expertise.
Feb 19, 2012
Feb 19, 2012 at 10:28 AM UTC
In gravest, gravels of untouched soil,
Spearhead of purple, beyond the pale,
One statue of siege upon a windy foil,
What mires meek airs in all you survey?
Like a frost of summers, you are lord,
To hold that seed in your spiny face,
Depressions of land your promontory,
All up with arms, iron clad as a mace,
Beneath you, the grown motley fields
Are desolate, all flowers bled, blender,
Spiders and birds know you unyielding
The lost aleatory scent of no surrender.
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 9:37 PM UTC
We fell all the time.
It was a matter of balance.
Our inner ears and eyes
Struggled with gravity; and
Being upright is our gravest concern.
So, we always stood again,
Revolving around equilibriums:
Bikes, ledges and feet;
Everything was a test. Everything needed balance:
Wheelbarrows, roof peaks and checking accounts.
I've learned balance for adults
Is even more precarious.
Our words are heavily weighted,
And some more disproportionately than others,
With see-saw issues and teeter-totter opinions.
Isn't it easier to get back on the bike
Than walk back unbalanced arguments.
May 17, 2021
May 17, 2021 at 11:32 AM UTC
Seeing you walk on mirrored images I dreamt in moments of pain,
And thinking that I one day would hold your hand in meadows and on top of the Eiffel Tower,
Yet I was so far from you,
And that, you could not bear.
There is comfort in our separation, as you've blossomed within love.
No opportunity for me to disagree if you are happy, secure and warm in the gravest of circumstances.
I feel you here with me, God knows your caring hands could still scrape along my face.
Who wouldn't imagine the infinite (nearly laughable now) possibilities that could have spawned out of our seasonal tryst, but let's give praise to the unexpected joys shot out of reality.
All pieces in place of a puzzle carved out of some improvisation.
May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 11:42 PM UTC
you have come to me,
from out of a dream,
like an angel of light,
with eyes so vast, deep,
bluer than dark heavens,
piercing the gravest clouds,
it has been so shutting long
my raven haired lord, my love,
i have grieved each unmoved day
to blistering, dull absence, salted
rains unshakeable, ghostly lone moss
of stones who wait in the sectioned
yards I trod, seen each sun turn black,
fading and the moon sings so very loud
in the sharp silence you have wrought,
when you tossed me here, frozen
in a hothouse, pine room, boxed,
where I write this poem, to pray
and feel you in the mercy flesh
immaterial, manifest of dream
an angel of light, all mist, halo
behind you, blinding me bare,
as I stare at this blank page.
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 2:52 AM UTC
Rejection is not
What fuels my silence, it's the
Fear of losing you .
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 4:44 PM UTC
We name all we don't understand
Devil, god, or son of man
Do we see through doubting eyes
It is WE in whom the Spirit flies
Our doubts are our limitations
That encroach upon
The very Law that assures us
We are all born of Freedom
For what is Freedom, no more than
Understanding that our own thoughts
Are what keeps us imprisoned in
Time and space, all as one flock
For once we come to realize
Time is Now and Space is Here
The thick veil shall fall from our eyes
As our Perfection becomes clear
Soaring through space on wings broken
In time we measure by the hands
Of soulless clocks that we worship
It's Ours to test our true wingspan
Heed others who've come before us
Who held one foot in both
The Time here, the endless Spheres
That orbit the sun to aid our growth
We are not limited by the
Thoughts of lack and uncertainty
Once we realize we aren't the
Bodies in which we wade stormy seas
We are the eager children who
Stare back at us behind our eyes
Nothing aged, unforgivable
So long as we wake each day to try
To find in ourselves the Perfection
That the one who we call Son of God
Came to remind us we're more than
Our best defense of all we're not
So break today the chains of fear
Unlock your cage of frustration
Strike out of grey skies of boredom
Seek to Live your true Passion
For whatever your ideal is
It's when the heart flies high
That you have found your Reason for
Being created by the Dreamer's Mind
One's identity cannot be taken
Of the Soul's truest purpose
Find it within your heart to wake
To each day of Heaven's Promise
That you are Loved, and forgiven
Of even your gravest sin
As God knows what lies in each heart
Before we know we had broken
Our covenant to be our Best
Each day another fiery test
How far will we fly today
Into winds of mighty protest
It's realizing the wind is there
To create your doubt and fear
That you will come to soar above
Clouds, into azure skies of Love
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 10:05 PM UTC
i really did love you
thats why i let you into that
dark wet spot inside of my chest
and thats why i let you
choke my veins and arteries
until the lack of oxygen
left nothing but a dizzying
imprint of your face
burned into my brain
should you ask me now
(not that you would ask,
pride was always your
gravest sin)
i would tell you that you
were like a drug to me
and like most drugs
the crash was a nightmare
i have detoxed every part of me
that you poisoned
and the imprint you left on me
is nothing more than a scar now
an ugly reminder of the final
bullet you put through my skull
should you ask me now
it would surprise even me
just how much we
never happened
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 10:59 PM UTC