"guider" poems
I lack inspiration, when sound does not riddle the causeways of my mind
when echos bounce less around my cranium and more from my lips i find..
solace,
solace in the fact that no longer am i directed from indirect communications but more from the sound i make,
i learnt to grasp the steering wheel in both hands and turn sharp in the corners,
i learnt that without sound echoing through my ears my eyes work with pinpoint accuracy..
i never noticed the way the grass grows over old cobbles..
i never noticed the way my heart beats
the way it skips, and bleats,
i learnt not to be a sheep, but a profit,
a guider to the blind,
don't tell them I'm blind as-well
because it doesn't matter if i can see or i cant
it does not matter if what i say is truth or lies
but if the fiction of my antiquity compels you to lift your heart up
brings joy from the desolation of your mind but to the fore front of the battle field that is your life i have achieved something incredible, I've achieved peace
peace through happiness, joy through inspiration so read on!
read on young soldier,
your broken mind and battle ready battle wounds are bound too tightly by your compassion to conform
take of your bandages and read on! read forwards and on wards and strive to learn, why
why young soldier i know you've never been trained
and i know your mind is ill with discontent and i know your shoes are whittled to your socks and i know
i know how hard it is to stand with two broken legs and only the solace of that barren bare cranium to lean on
but in my antiquity young soldier
i have learnt that we are all warriors
fighters along a broken line standing our ground against greater odds then you could ever conceive of battling...
i know young solider that many will fall and die
and many will perish to broken minds and hearts and souls,
but the ones who make it through this perishable existence, the ones who fight beyond any compassion beyond any reason,
god I've met boys who will tear out each others throats with their teeth I've learnt that men are shells of creatures that have never been fully understood,
my existence has been about
nothing but fighting
and now i have reached an age where i can lay down the rifle of my words, i can leave my blunted knives to rust in a back closet i realized young soldier
the agony of your existence may seem like the end, but its just the start.
and when your reach a point in your life where you can rest,
savor it,
do not let someone tell you how to exist without your consent , do not fight a battle you do not want to fight,
stand your ground young soldier
re-reinforcements are on the way
L.G
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 6:46 PM UTC
the early riser guider, pastel orb of high color value,
looks askance at the two men watching it,
for fresh and clean, it, the sun, from
the horizon born and bathed and toweled blue terry sky dry
the men, well they stinkin'
from body sweat hikin' and grease and drinkin'
Mr. Coffee and cheap *****
an expensive high, when next day payback comes due
but none better for inspire to hire and
merging men's alternative verses writ in alternating styles,
trading stanzas under a lighting-felled inspiration tree,
waiting for that insightful light that comes too brief
how can it be each thinks, that tho never in the flesh met,
thank to Mr. Coffee and cheap *****
the bond just gets stronger every day way,
the poetry better with each sippin',
as many rivers confluent on their way home
to the slightly jealous observing Pacific sea,
the original mother lode of all creation,
well, She says:
*"boys,
good job and good luck remembering anything
and getting home safe and sound!"*
to which we drink a toast of Mr. Coffee and cheap *****
and it ocurs to one, perhaps both,
this is kinda a love poem after all
May 14, 2017
May 14, 2017 at 11:15 AM UTC
O! Beloved, O! Beloved who created the sun,
Created the atoms, and made the stars.
When we are united, Beloved, I will see your light,
Majestic than the sun, and I will be free of my desires
As the morning sun frees the lilies from the night.
O! My Beloved, I was not in existence but then You
Fashioned me and brought me to witness Your
Beauty. I am in awe of Your beauty, o! Beloved.
They say it is a gift, but you said it is a test.
O Beloved, guide me in this test you put me in.
O! My Beloved, O! Beloved that is not imperfect
I have been conquered by my ego yesterday
But to you I return and bow to purify myself,
Praise upon you after marveling at your beauty and mercy,
Your Mercy that is greater than the milk of a mother.
O! My Beloved, O! Beloved who said and wrote the first,
There is a longing inside me that all the wideness of
Life can’t give an answer to. O Beloved, I await
For my meeting with you to fill me,
As you fill the bellies of the birds, but eternally!
O! My Beloved, O! Beloved that is forever infinite
I have known but so little, expand me, my Beloved
As you have made the seas so wide to contain the
Liquid. So that I will know you more and contain
More of your love in my expanding self.
O! My Beloved, my beloved, break me if that will
Open me to you. A seeker of light will accept
Everything that has come to cleanse him of his
Darkness. For your mercy, give me soft cleansing
With the water of kindness, and breeze of love.
O! My Beloved, Beloved, with questions comes wandering,
And it is with wandering that then come answers.
The more I wander and seek, the more I get closer.
O! Beloved, I long for the taste of the moment when
I will arrive at the hall of those that have arrived.
O! My Beloved, O my Beloved that guides the seeker
If I get all that I seek in the moment of a wish,
Then there wouldn’t be all the wonders of seeking,
But you know, guide my way, O Guider of wayfarers,
As you have done to the path of those You have blessed.
O my beloved, I am like a river, O my beloved!
My existence is like a river and you are the Ocean.
I am flowing from you, and then back to you,
Accompany my flow in daytime with the sun of Your
Love, and at night with the moon of your mercy.
Dec 16, 2021
Dec 16, 2021 at 6:56 PM UTC
Not once did l expect this to happen
Never in my wildest imagination did l think you would leave
Your sweetness melted in my heart
But it was all a lie
The promises and the oaths
We would never say goodbye
We would be together forever
But it was all a lie
Being that shoulder to lean on
A friend to depend on
The arms to cry on
The strength in my hopelessness
My eyes in my blindness
And the guider in my helplessness
It was all an act
It was all a lie
Those changeable watery to baby blue eyes
The flowing golden hair
Made me believe in a fantasy fairytale life
But it was all a lie
The old dreamy smile, you shattered
My visions, desires and dreams
You mercilessly destroyed
Leaving an empty person without hope only unforgettable lies
WHY DIDNT I REALIZE IT WAS ALL A LIE
Dec 23, 2016
Dec 23, 2016 at 9:38 AM UTC
Sappho of the South
Sweetest lips upon my mouth
From Tomboy Casanova
To Soft Butch Jehovah
Stone Top, Touch-Me-Not
To chapstick and Birkenstocks
She’s my Strapping Queen
The only flicker of my bean
Oh, Lavender Menace
I’m on my knees in minutes
Stud-finder
Cunt-diver
Love-guider
Me-inside-her
Lover’s lips upon my mouth
Lovely Sappho of the South
Jun 14, 2025
Jun 14, 2025 at 1:07 AM UTC
I am the furnace master
the pyromaniac
the keeper of the warm
inviting flame
I am the fire, you are my fuel
The world is my fuel
be not careless, lest the fire consume your mind
The flames rule all things
They make meaning from nothing
They are the mover, the pusher, the guider of all
Try to control it, and it finds a way around you
If it cannot move around you, it moves through you
If not through you, then it finds a new place to rage
The flame burns all, though few can see
The flame is everywhere, no one is safe
It has surely been in your heart, your soul
You felt it, And you knew it was there
The flame called you to life, and showed you the path, and you knew
But knowing how, and doing, are completely different
All have felt the flame, but not all know of it
Subtlety is the game, straight-forward strength, subtle motion
Surely all have felt the lovers passion, and the flame of life
Surely you have felt the flame of hatred, or of hunger
The fire of anger, of joy, of sorrow
Even those who, like me, spend their lives thinking they rule the flame,
Are only puppets, actually serving it.
Apr 10, 2012
Apr 10, 2012 at 6:41 AM UTC
a father is suppose to be a child’s first
hero
protector
guider
and mentor
however for me my father was my first
tormentor
narcissist
and the monster that hid under my bed
with a bottle to keep him company
Jun 16, 2019
Jun 16, 2019 at 2:29 AM UTC
Spider, Spider, Spider
Spinner, Weaver, Guider
What is woven with extreme
Fragility
Frailest of all houses
Illusory and deceptive
Reality
You spin a miracle
A glowing spherical
Concealing the great plan of
Manifestation
Reminding us of God
Composing fabrics of the world
As creation
A cosmic inventor
Sun, Moon, Stars, Equator
Dancing in the maze you loom
Spiritual leader
Sound communicator
You can hear all nature playing
Light pulsating
Stargazing foreteller
Fate of future dweller
Divination is your key
Soul light conductor
Between two worlds of Human life
And Divine life
Your thread is like a chain
Umbilical cord train
Golden ladder to climb high
Brilliant footsteps slide
Joining Heaven and Earth
Reminding us of Cosmic Birth
We are all one
Deliverance and change
Prepare us to arrange
As our authenticity
In gift of power
We must learn how to use
Infinite possibilities
Engaging us
Mesmerizing magic
Bridges become tragic
If the earthquakes of our lives
Lose all respect for
The lessons of learning
Kismet is the fire burning
We must beware
Our fragile human state
May not find time to wait
As you dangle from your thread
Consideration
For the gifts that we have
Keep us from mirroring your swing
God bless our lives
The infinite is now
Your presence showing how
To be aware that each step
May be occurring
In a dangerous way
Looking into your net I see
Eternity
My fingers are your legs
To you I make a pledge
My eternal plan engaging
Soul self vibrating
Embrace the Universe
Know life is not a curse
Weaving the version of myself
At best will be
Spider, Spider, Spider
Spider, Spider, Spider
Spinner, Weaver, Guider
What is woven with extreme
Fragility
Weave a prayer upon your web
For us to see
© tHE tERRY tREE
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 11:43 PM UTC
Misty winds, perilous deeds,
smeltering sun, wandering needs,
easily breakable moments, brittle
as cold glass, empty heart within
why cant my insignificance pass,
deep sighs, strong murmurs, straining of
the pressure as my stress slowly hurdles,
red moon, blood-filled skies, daggers piercing
my eyes as the passion cries, When does it end?
Where do my thoughts lead? So vacant inside
myself I just proceed with greed, lost in the mind,
filled with heavy glitches, somebody pick me up
before i lose my britches, demons surround me
all the time, I truly need relief, a new lease on life,
no longer can handle the grief or pain from the strife,
God has my ticket, considered truly my spiritual guider,
trying to seek the light, the heavenly hole spreads wider,
my mind getting clearer, im delivered from the corrupt,
no longer deminished inside, released from fate so abrupt...
©Michael P. Smith
Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 8:57 AM UTC
i.
Once upon a time, in the interweb of H.P
Betwixt technology's advance, wherein all us poet's dream;
I met a queen, a tan skinned Filipino rose
I kneweth her from before formation, we got conjoined by toe's.
ii.
Friend's only at first, she was always there to listen
Though in love the whole time, an angelic preordained invention;
Both to shy, to cometh out with ourn realest affection's
Though mine spirit was screaming telleth her, I got her attention.
iii.
After us both in focus, and this hellish step-stool left behind
We both, like past life ghost's, made ourn amour' as sweet wine;
And now and forever, until the end of tommorrow, and time
We shalt forever fasten ourn specter's, now all maketh sense fine.
iv.
Many thinkest eternal living doth not exist, after ourn death
Telleth that to me and earl Jane nagley, as we shalt flyeth;
Ourn wing's wilt glideth, the moon's, atmosphere's, and star's
God is ourn guider, the angel's sit beside her, as I feeleth whole
In mine heart.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication
Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 3:41 PM UTC
Un prêtre de Jupiter,
Père de deux grandes filles,
Toutes deux assez gentilles,
De bien les marier fit son soin le plus cher.
Les prêtres de ce temps vivaient de sacrifices,
Et n'avaient point de bénéfices.
La dot était fort mince. Un jeune jardinier
Se présenta pour gendre ; on lui donna l'aînée.
Bientôt après cet hyménée
La cadette devint la femme d'un potier.
À quelques jours de là, chaque épouse établie
Chez son époux, le père va les voir.
Bon jour, dit-il, je viens savoir
Si le choix que j'ai fait rend heureuse ta vie,
S'il ne te manque rien, si je peux y pourvoir.
Jamais, répond la jardinière,
Vous ne fîtes meilleure affaire :
La paix et le bonheur habitent ma maison ;
Je tâche d'être bonne, et mon époux est bon :
Il sait m'aimer sans jalousie,
Je l'aime sans coquetterie ;
Aussi tout est plaisir, tout jusqu'à nos travaux ;
Nous ne désirons rien, sinon qu'un peu de pluie
Fasse pousser nos artichauts.
- C'est là tout ? - Oui vraiment. -tu seras satisfaite,
Dit le vieillard : demain je célèbre la fête
De Jupiter ; je lui dirai deux mots.
Adieu, ma fille. - Adieu, mon père.
Le prêtre de ce pas s'en va chez la potière
L'interroger, comme sa sœur,
Sur son mari, sur son bonheur.
Oh ! Répond celle-ci, dans mon petit ménage,
Le travail, l'amour, la santé,
Tout va fort bien en vérité ;
Nous ne pouvons suffire à la vente, à l'ouvrage :
Notre unique désir serait que le soleil
Nous montrât plus souvent son visage vermeil
Pour sécher notre poterie.
Vous, pontife du dieu de l'air,
Obtenez-nous cela, mon père, je vous prie ;
Parlez pour nous à Jupiter.
- Très volontiers, ma chère amie :
Mais je ne sais comment accorder mes enfants ;
Tu me demandes du beau temps,
Et ta sœur a besoin de pluie.
Ma foi, je me tairai, de peur d'être en défaut.
Jupiter mieux que nous sait bien ce qu'il nous faut ;
Prétendre le guider serait folie extrême.
Sachons prendre le temps comme il veut l'envoyer :
L'homme est plus cher aux dieux qu'il ne l'est à lui-même ;
Se soumettre, c'est les prier.
780
Stiplede linjer viser mig vejen
En mor der tager sit barn i hånden
Guider igennem sort røg
Forvirrede forbipasserende
Jordens galskab
Til pastelbesatte stier
og stjernesten
Liv kommer mig i møde
Flade væsner med hjerter i hænderne
Spænding mellem vores kroppe
Vores verdener kulminerer
Dækker industribygningerne
med sarte solskinsstrejf,
lyserøde skyer
og sammenplantninger
Min tur til Venus
flettede himlene sammen
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 3:28 PM UTC
Far from the edge,
encouraged by the wind,
moon as my Guider,
hope as my warmth,
tender grass welcomes each valued step
I venture this journey.
Aug 25, 2012
Aug 25, 2012 at 10:12 PM UTC
The gracious dragon smiles
As they have been apart for miles
The girl so beautiful
So youthful
As they dance into the night
The moonlight oh so bright
The dragon and the rider
Both are one another's guider
Until dawn breaks
They will dance, no matter the stakes
Even when they are lost
Their paths will someday cross
And dance once again
Through snow or rain
Joined once more
Through the sky, they shall soar.
-KJB
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 8:17 PM UTC
i.
Grooving cricket's
Mardi gras the copse;
A bedchamber shut
The door's art locked.
ii.
The luster of the moon
Sparkle's her face;
Locking I tightly with her finger's
Her body with mine in place.
iii.
Wall's bodacious, to match her flavor
Raiment she weareth, I sketch on poetry paper;
Though I'm no artist, only a writer
Her look's art an eyeful, I've become her virtuoso, her guider.
iv.
As tis, she's mine muse
Thrice I hadst held her;
She's mine only residence
I seeketh none other shelter.
v.
I shalt die in her arm's
And awake in her psyche;
Because tis I do knoweth
She's where everything's right.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication
Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 7:21 PM UTC
Toi qui du jour mourant consoles la nature,
Parais, flambeau des nuits, lève-toi dans les cieux ;
Etends autour de moi, sur la pâle verdure,
Les douteuses clartés d'un jour mystérieux !
Tous les infortunés chérissent ta lumière ;
L'éclat brillant du jour repousse leurs douleurs :
Aux regards du soleil ils ferment leur paupière,
Et rouvrent devant toi leurs yeux noyés de pleurs.
Viens guider mes pas vers la tombe
Où ton rayon s'est abaissé,
Où chaque soir mon genou tombe
Sur un saint nom presque effacé.
Mais quoi ! la pierre le repousse !...
J'entends !... oui ! des pas sur la mousse !
Un léger souffle a murmuré ;
Mon oeil se trouble, je chancelle :
Non, non, ce n'est plus toi ; c'est elle
Dont le regard m'a pénétré !...
Est-ce bien toi ? toi qui t'inclines
Sur celui qui fut ton amant ?
Parle ; que tes lèvres divines
Prononcent un mot seulement.
Ce mot que murmurait ta bouche
Quand, planant sur ta sombre couche,
La mort interrompit ta voix.
Sa bouche commence... Ah ! j'achève :
Oui, c'est toi ! ce n'est point un rêve !
Anges du ciel, je la revois !...
Ainsi donc l'ardente prière
Perce le ciel et les enfers !
Ton âme a franchi la barrière
Qui sépare deux univers !
Gloire à ton nom, Dieu qui l'envoie !
Ta grâce a permis que je voie
Ce que mes yeux cherchaient toujours.
Que veux-tu ? faut-il que je meure ?
Tiens, je te donne pour cette heure
Toutes les heures de mes jours !
Mais quoi ! sur ce rayon déjà l'ombre s'envole !
Pour un siècle de pleurs une seule parole !
Est-ce tout ?... C'est assez ! Astre que j'ai chanté,
J'en bénirai toujours ta pieuse clarté,
Soit que dans nos climats, empire des orages,
Comme un vaisseau voguant sur la mer des nuages,
Tu perces rarement la triste obscurité ;
Soit que sous ce beau ciel, propice à ta lumière,
Dans un limpide azur poursuivant ta carrière,
Des couleurs du matin tu dores les coteaux ;
Ou que, te balançant sur une mer tranquille,
Et teignant de tes feux sa surface immobile,
Tes rayons argentés se brisent dans les eaux !
712
TEACHER
Teachers are an idle ,
They are a guider ,
They are healthy from mind ,
They are also very kind ,
Teachers are like gods ,
They gives bless to all ,
They gives us educational diet ,
And they incresaes our minds height ,
Teachers are like parenrs ,
They never have hrassment ,
They are also called sir ,
But they didn't have fur ,
Teachers are reader and writer ,
But they are not a fighter ,
Sometimes they get exhausted ,
But they never get fainted.
Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 3:43 AM UTC
Fable XI, Livre IV.
LA BOUTEILLE.
L'intérêt ne peut me guider ;
Je n'ai rien à moi, ma cousine,
Et volontiers si je m'incline,
Ce n'est que pour mieux me vider.
LA CRUCHE.
Ma cousine, je le confesse,
Un autre instinct me fait agir,
Et volontiers si je me baisse,
Ce n'est que pour mieux me remplir.
381
Looking down the barrel
Of a young adult *** life
Peril is apparent
As I spend another lone night.
Dodging gunshots,
And other times, looking for shooters.
Searching for the right moment
To escape this life of a loser.
That I might get shot one day
Is a topic of which I fantasize.
But how come I’m obsessed with this,
Yet I possess a special pride
For restricting what I have inside
And choosing to hide it away?
Make sense of this I’ve tried and tried
And it all depends on the day
Because in one hour,
I’m so glad I’m independent
And then later on,
I’ll be searching for a weapon
To come fire it’s ammunition
Of lust upon my rosy face.
It’s so built up, it’s the first time,
I’ll always know the time and place.
It’s so sought after yet so feared,
And in the end, contrarily,
I’ll just say, “is that all there is?”
And go on my solo merry way.
I’ll always see another day
And have my emotion-fueled goals.
Sensations are so stimulating,
Yet they’re so far beyond control.
So as I stare down this supposed barrel,
Defying stats by not yet being shot,
I question myself and my appearal,
And wonder to change what I've got.
Once I’m wounded forever more,
Will I love what’s new and lament what’s killed?
These sensations, I know what they’re for.
It’s nothing, I maintain with my will.
All the sensation, all this ammo,
That may or may not taint my breast,
It’s all abiotic, it’s all arbitrary,
And all it offers is a test!
Will I obsess over a barrel,
Or any other form of fire,
When what matters infinitely more
Is who is there and whose it’s guider?
Alas, it’s like a fancy food
Of which I’ll never have a taste.
For although I may one day taste this barrel,
In my heart, there’s not a place.
The trigger-puller will certainly matter,
As will any who shoot at me.
I love people, not acts or stimuli.
From fear of this barrel, I am free.
Oct 3, 2017
Oct 3, 2017 at 4:33 PM UTC
𝗠: Be a man who is moral in his actions, meaningful in his words, and mindful in his decisions.
𝗔: Be a man who is admirable in character, authentic in his self, and ambitious in his dreams.
𝗡: Be a man who is noble in heart, nurturing in spirit, and never afraid to do what’s right.
That is what it truly means to be a 𝗠𝗔𝗡.
Be a man who saves his gaze for the one written in destiny
Be a man whose wife finds no other gaze in his eyes
Be a man whose wife sees only love , loyalty not longing
Be a man whose eyes hold respect not desire
Be a man who honours every woman's dignity
Be a man who lifts the weight of his father's worries
Be a man who brings a smile to his mother's face
Be a man who stands as the strongest pillar for her sister
Be a man who becomes a hero to his daughter
Be a man who lives as a role model for his son
Be a man who uses his strength to protect , not to harm
Be a man who raises his standards , not his hands
Be a man whose actions speak louder ,not his voice
Be a human who breaks unjust rules , not her heart
Be a man who builds up woman , not break her
Be a man who respects her choice , not impose his
Be a man who is shelter
Be a man who is a protector
Be a man who is guider
Be a man who is comfort
Be a man who is peace
Be a man who is love
Be a man who loves himself
Be a man who values himself
Be a man who forgive himself
Be a man who understands himself
Be a man who invents himself
Be a man who protect himself
Be a man who believes in himself
Be a man who motivate himself
Be a man who accept himself
Be a man who has pure soul
Be a man who has heart ,not stone
Be a real man.
Apr 9, 2025
Apr 9, 2025 at 7:41 AM UTC