"happies" poems
Then let not winter’s ragged hand deface
In thee thy summer ere thou be distilled.
Make sweet some vial; treasure thou some place
With beauty’s treasure ere it be self-killed.
That use is not forbidden usury
Which happies those that pay the willing loan;
That’s for thyself to breed another thee,
Or ten times happier, be it ten for one,
Ten times thy self were happier than thou art,
If ten of thine ten times refigured thee;
Then what could death do, if thou shouldst depart,
Leaving thee living in posterity?
Be not self-willed, for thou art much too fair
To be death’s conquest and make worms thine heir.
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Tess looked up and across the cake, that was full of colors
And icing, all pinks and fluid reds, with greens around
The middle, and Birthday Happies written so pretty
Across it, in wider icing, and small stars and twinkle bits
On its side, with just a few candles, blue, red, pink, lit
Up for all the world to see, her hands on either side,
Posing for a picture, seeing the flames all yellow
And watching her face, with a smile so bright,
That eclipsed the light of the frosting.
Her face seemed younger than ever, as they sang the song;
Happy Birthday they sang, in voices that were clear,
Yet out of tune and some that even crossed the line
Between singing to deep, some too light, one or two
Right in the middle, with candles burning, laughter
Breaking from her throat, as she watched their faces
And felt the love that was hers, all hers.
"Make a wish" they said, after someone sang
"and many more" they all laughed, and she started
To wish aloud, when someone said no, it must be silent
To keep that wish a wish. Tess, thought for three seconds
Closed her eyes, made her wish, opened them and blew
The candles out, to laughter, clapping and cheers.
She smiled, she laughed, she kept the pace, and cut the cake,
Her thoughts were here, but not, as she considered each
One, each birthday, as being so very different, as being
So very the same. She held the little ones, in the back of her mind
The gracious ones of heart and love came forward, and the thought
of more seemed far away, but the light, the colors, the candles
They meant so much more, than words can say.
"A toast!" She said aloud, to all those who loved her dearly,
"A toast!" she felt, for those who loved her dear, but could not be there,
"A toast!" she thought, for those who could only be in memory,
For another year, your Tess has lived, and made you happy,
"to You, Dear Tess, make us feel you in our hearts".
Feb 11, 2012
Feb 11, 2012 at 8:41 AM UTC
She liked Jim's Jam
so sweet and thick
it was like little lumps of heaven
on top of toast
or scones
warm and crispy
like logs in a fire
newts on a fume
charred and musky
she liked a lot about Jim-
his smile, his laugh
but not his sads
so really
she didn't like Jim
not all of him
but enough for some happies
yummy Jam
fires and smoke
hair like a wolf
Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 12:24 PM UTC
The misunderstanding is in trying to understand, standing next to lamps in the dark, afraid to embark into the unknown, knowing that knowing is knowing nothing while still quietly judging, but its something to embrace, something to fill the hole, that gently pulls it all into my guts, carrying the burdens with my clutch on the unheard of.
I walk a path of fear with masks to disguise my lies with truth to help me through the illusion of you, holding my hand along the way.
The path is finite, and all encompassing, as it fluctuates into something more appeasing for my needing of a dream to light the way, with telescopic tears, and blinding happies, i'm learning things i already knew.
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 2:46 PM UTC
with pill-
more happies
and getting things done
without-
sit expression
knowing one equals one
with pill-
keeping blood draining
thinking at bay
without-
know the me
and the just what to say
the struggle
the turning
the struggle
and learning
the deepen
the reap and
I keep
so to speak
(this,)
the falling
the landing
the focus
expanding
and
when will I see _ _ _ again?
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 11:16 PM UTC
Fresh off the the boat to rock the vote
Like Lenin off the iron horse
This Wild Western Manifested destiny
Has run its course
And yet am I, the winning side, still spillin’ it in genocide
And civilizin’ savages supply-sidin’ Apartheid pride
To trigger happies harpin’ on their stolen country muses
Christian views as skewed as what their news refuses to include in
Whose excluded from this private privilege history alluded to
In commandante economic sticks and stones I sling at’chu
But what you gunna do but leave another man behind
Keep marchin’ to the slums of war, we’re all complicit in the crime
But you and I, the difference is, I am the Royal’s fear to wed
For I am prone to widow-making
Inter webs within your head
Like Debs ensnarin’ robber barons in a pit of wealth disparity
And Jobs’ cogs who took’er jahbs, achieving singularity
May 17, 2018
May 17, 2018 at 10:57 PM UTC
Millions of words
And not a single one
Says it all
Millions of fake happies
And not a single one
Captures the real thing
Millions of people
And not a single one
Will ever feel like you
Jan 11, 2019
Jan 11, 2019 at 11:50 PM UTC
The cold wind wrapped around the red nose
of the old man.
As he travelled, just a short distance
ladened with presents.
A family Christmas reunion.
Not far from their home, he paused for breath.
A thought of his lost love, saddened him,
as a snowflake brushed his cheek,
and more dusted his head.
"I love you too," he said, with a smile.
In the distance, he heard the sound of Carol Singers.
Thoughts of Christmas, warmed his soul,
and those happy little face, waiting.
Moments later, he tapped on their door,
to the tune of Deck The Halls, Christmas Carol.
Then, he heard the exited children, calling his name,
the door opened, and the smell and love of Christmas
caressed him.
A tear welled, and nearly escaped, as he welcomed everyone
with. "Merry Christmas."
Passing the presents to his son, and daughter,
in a welcome exchange, for a hot toddy.
The presents were safely stacked, under the
brightly lighted, Christmas tree.
He sat and smiled, cheeks, now as red as his nose,
Grandpa, called out the names of his exited little family.
The well broke, all down his cheek, it was
the happies time of his life, Christmas with his family.
Nov 10, 2024
Nov 10, 2024 at 6:18 AM UTC
Sharing our big happies,
You're best of chappies,
Having spirited love,
Blesses our daily dove....
Laughing, fun smiles,
Your charm still beguiles,
Trade future for today,
In our favourite way.....
Yes, happy dance,
Always our romance,
Blissful loving haze,
Happy good old days!
Aug 10, 2025
Aug 10, 2025 at 2:48 PM UTC