"harrowed" poems
Cutting through devils flesh, bones and marrows,
Healing sorrow, it's wielders never cold or shallow,
All Divinity or Nature destroyed is healed and harrowed,
Behold, the gift of the Goddess: The Sword of Shadows.
Despite cold hearts making our world a burning hell,
Despite many angels, light bearing souls, who somehow fell,
Despite those taking pleasure from greed, envy and sin,
Warm Hearts realize The Goddess is indeed our kin,
Despite endless waves of lives and death,
Despite moments when even good has lost life and breath,
Despite the sinuous evil and creeping dark,
One receives his Sword when Healthy with Halo and Heart.
For a Sword Bold of times Old, your heart must stay warm,
Even when anger for a purge starts and your mind 's a storm,
May every plot against Humanity forever fold or foil,
A Sword waiting for you, end all turmoil.
With Knowledge gained either thought the art or craft,
Sword of Shadows, Avenging all pains, even future and past...
Only tears shed are that of Love and Joy, no remorse,
To allow our dear Goddess in our world, All rejoice.
A Sword of Shadows for Hearts Brave and True,
Our Goddess Loves all, and has Sword for you.
Nov 1, 2016
Nov 1, 2016 at 4:00 PM UTC
Maybe I’d be drifting, slowly at first;
Approaching specks of light in the distance;
Once there, now here, free of space and not time;
Perhaps an error in the equations
Would have me lost in the empty darkness
Or free to run along amongst the light.
And you would stand alone in the Sun’s light,
Telling everyone that you were there first
And that you would stay until the darkness
To watch as I traveled in the distance.
Your hand guided mine through the equations
And reminded me to account for time.
You were wrong, of course, to tell me that time
Would stand idle until the morning light
Of my return, and those sad equations
Would stare back into my eyes, quiet first
But then screaming, filling the dead distance
And echoing through the void of darkness.
I hope when your eyes are filled with darkness
And you listen to the passing of time,
Or your hands reach through the empty distance
That you get up and walk outside; the light
You see from the stars passed by my eyes first.
Find peace in that, not from the equations.
I will obsess over these equations
Until my mind is filled by the darkness;
Insanity, if not from silence first
Then by the harrowed tick and tock of time…
Or maybe I’d stand in the fading light
And pay no mind to the growing distance.
So thus we wait and hope for the distance
To honor the truth of the equations.
Seconds pass slowly at the speed of light;
Leaving it behind leaves only darkness;
Perfect silence in the absence of time.
I question whether my heart will stop first.
Maybe I’ll forget the equations first.
Time grows slower, the distance grows larger.
But the darkness fades. Only light remains.
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 7:12 PM UTC
Crow cackle! Crow cackle!
…cackling crow!
Who is this scarecrow and what does he know?
What does he do?
And what does he hear?
What does he see?
Why do birds fear?
Crow cackle! Crow cackle! Cackling crows!
Who is this scarecrow and what does he know?
The scarecrow sees bunnies,
the scarecrow sees squirrels,
The scarecrow sees shenanigans
of little boys and girls.
The scarecrow sees nothing
because he doesn’t have real eyes.
The scarecrow’s just hay, in a disguise!
The bunnies will stop put to him one eye,
they cannot seem to figure out, if he’s dead or alive?
Crow cackle! Crow cackle! Cackling crows!
Who is this scarecrow and what does he know?
And the chickadee and the finches and the wrens and the sparrow,
all want to rest on him but find themselves harrowed,
for his job is to be frightening, fearsome and scary,
…and blackbirds, ravens, crows here-ever are nary.
Crow cackle! Crow cackle! Cackling crows!
Who is this scarecrow and what does he know?
You’ll find him quietly scouting the good farmer’s fields,
If you could speak to him or hear from him, what could he reveal?
Crow cackle! Crow cackle! Cackling crows!
Crow cackle! Crow cackle! Cackling crows!
Eating your corn, tormenting fields that you’ve sown,
In the evenings or the mornings he’ll always be alone.
Squawking and screaming their terrible dread!
Crying at you, calling to you and filling your head,
Always complaining and shouting at your ear.
That field and its corn, is what they hold dear.
Crow cackle! Crow cackle! Cackling crows!
Who is this scarecrow and what does he know?
Protecting the corn fields,
forever in the throes,
Crow cackle! Crow cackle!
…cackling crow!
Who is this scarecrow and what does he know?
Dec 22, 2016
Dec 22, 2016 at 7:13 PM UTC
*>¡<
like a cygnet
i await the
lilly strewn liquid
of your love
where i can lap my
feet luxuriously
in your
idyll
>¡<
like a patch of soil
i await your root and seed
harrowed by your hands
turned under by your
undulating plows
>¡<
like an old shoe
i wait to cradle your heel
in comfort, and give you
the freedom to
point
a
toe
>¡<
like these things
i am not
comely
but like a
caterpillar
i await your
cocoon of carelessly
crumpled sheets
to preform my
metamorphosis
into the beautiful
Blue Mountain Swallowtail
you always knew
i could be*
SoulSurvivor
(C) 2/6/2016
Feb 6, 2016
Feb 6, 2016 at 11:02 PM UTC
Apart from the Malice I'd like to Subsume
Are some Fortune's Tags which I strive to defer
And Mood the Dragon's Seasoned Pawn resume
Threw Slime instead; And dissolved my Brother
Shall I charge as your Fault? But then again,
Your same usual Stones pound my Bouncing Head
With no other Ritual to confront this Pain
You continue to bray; And play Mule instead
Unaware of the Grass you still do hurt
Blinded by the Light which you call Divine
Philosophy leashes your own True Worth
Sticks you in Trivia; And robs your eyes blind.
What is there to blame from such Harrowed Young
Since the Lord Philip's Man has not yet sung?
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 3:15 AM UTC
You once asked me what I wanted to be
A policeman, a baker, whatever called to me
You would let me sing songs out of tune
So that I’d make up stories for when I grew
At first this was incredible and splendid
Broad opportunities to get interested in
I looked around at the world to observe
Yet I found every straight of hope soon curve
I see a falling leaf, green despite the weather
Cut off from the world, no lifeline to tether
I’d think of an astronaut falling through space
And I’d determine: Astronomy? No thanks
I see a bee, buzzing about. Lost from his friends
A wanderer no doubt. His work with pollen came to no end
No matter how much he did, there was always more
Daily worker’s life couldn't be for me, with so much left to explore
I see a glimpse of a squirrel, and then it’s scampering up wood
To hide its berries and acorns, chattering my ear off as it should
And then I hear silence, as the squirrel fled away
Now anything with nature reminds me how lonely I felt that day
So as I became older, I seemed to shoulder
Every fresh idea of a future I had became colder
I wonder, when did my vision become so narrow?
If I’m still young, then why do I feel so harrowed?
My star light of possibility, when did you become a telescope?
That blinding light, when did it shrivel my last rays of hope?
Feb 3, 2019
Feb 3, 2019 at 1:32 PM UTC
legions of aloe vera lick my
toes, persuading in dissonance.
a herpetic grin streaks your
teeth, grease and yellowed
pages harrowed in stem.
now, i will tell you these
roses (that are everyanything
of a colour)--
sizzle against soft fingers,
the waft of yesterday
scribbling strikes of sense.
Nov 15, 2011
Nov 15, 2011 at 8:29 PM UTC
In fairytales and fantasies,
My parents would always say,
That a Magician so talented,
Would someday find his way.
And what way should he seek?
In fields of dust and harrowed meek,
And in his path he should depart,
Into my beating heart.
But he is a Magician after all,
A bewitcher, a deceiver, a devil at the ball.
Who tricked and hoaxed me,
By the time of nightfall.
So curse you Magician,
And the lies you have said,
After all your trickery,
Was that you never cared.
J.F.B
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 6:50 PM UTC
A farmer went to plant a crop
In his ready field
He threw it through and through the land
Preparing for his yield.
Some of his seed fell impotent
Upon a hardened ground
This seed was taken up by birds
Who quickly flew around.
Some seed fell on shallow soil
And sprouted quickly there
But there was no room for roots to grow
So the heat took up that share.
Some it fell in fertile loam
But there was other seed
As it grew it was choked out
By briars and by weeds.
Some of this land, however
Was harrowed quick and sure
The seed fell deep within it
And so the crop endured.
We all know this parable
That Jesus gave the crowd
They did not understand it
For they were not allowed.
But his stalwart followers
Asked the meaning of his words
They were of his kingdom
So this is what they heard...
The trodden soil was as a hardened heart
Which could not accept the Truth
And so it was devoured
By Satan. Foul. Uncouth.
This second soil was spurious
A sprinkling of dirt
Upon a rocky soil beneath
And so their Faith was hurt.
The Third had fatal mixture
Of good seed and of bad
The weeds were a distraction
And so the fruit was sad.
The final ground was fertile
Tilled by God's own hand
So 30... 60... 100 fold
Was the Harvest of that land.
The Word of God is like this Seed
It has much to offer
The Holy Spirit is its Wind
And Jesus Christ its Author.
SoulSurvivor
(C) 6/11/2016
Jun 12, 2016
Jun 12, 2016 at 1:18 AM UTC
An anarchist atom
Assaults the atmosphere
With anger and aerial arson
Bringing, begetting
Brutal and ****** battles
In my brain
Initiating chaos
With charges
Of chemicals.
A disection, distortion
Diversion of dedication
And direction
Causing eruptions
Emissions
Of erratic, electric elements
Of ego.
Ferocious fires form
In filaments, firmaments
Feeding the fantastic
Forces
Which grow and gain
In greatness in gravity
Grave, gory, gorgeous
Gloom.
Henceforth hidden horrors
Harrowed in a hollow heart
Instantly interact with
Intimate ideas
Initiating irregular, irrational
Irreversible
Irrelevant
Intimacy
Jealousy
Jumbling of jinxes
And laws of the jungle
For kicks
Leading to lies
Leaving love for loneliness
Loss.
A massive moral meltdown
In my mind
Negating, neutralising
normality
Orchestrates an open
Onslaught of order
And ordinary
People's principles
To pursue passion
And perfection
In a poetic periphery
Quite queer to some
And quaint to those
Not acquainted with
Rushes of ramblings
Received and reciprocated
Or radical ridicule
Of rascals.
Synapses send,
Signal every sinew
Simulating similar signs
But transmitting treacherous
Tingles
Teasing, trapping thoughts
In terror, temptations
To commit treason
Unforgivable, unforgettable
Us
Vivid and vibrant
But also very
Woeful
Wishing we were wild
And willing to walk
Our wishes make wonderful
Wells of
Youth
And creative zest.
Feb 24, 2013
Feb 24, 2013 at 11:09 AM UTC
Harrowed eyes
beckon
from the
shades of
jacaranda branches
it is
almost poetic
how false
true pain
can
shine
almost
like a
lip
bitten and
hacked
down to
the
stumps of
flesh
trying to
pursue
a mimicry
of joy
'oh hail'
'oh hail'
the sunshine
bellows
from the
gallows
the glinting
rusted
metal
so alike
your eyes
'oh rain'
'oh rain'
'Tis not
rain but
mellowed
waterfalls
falling from
the heavens
with the
most
regal
of graces
'oh mine'
'oh mine'
the haunted
quail
of a
hunter
beneath
jacaranda shades
rattles
and hisses
like the
exotic beast
within her skin
'oh do'
'oh nay'
is the echoed
tantalizing
that never
lets up.
Oct 28, 2018
Oct 28, 2018 at 5:43 AM UTC
Rose of a champion
Thought, in a beautified accord
Set to waiting hours, a needs complexion
Where we are, the tale of unity to its peaceful order...
Skip, argue or define
The truth, we removed by bounty of pouts...?
Sated avarice, and the curtness of kin caught in a notorious lie...
Welcome a shadow to breath, when a harrowed eye allowed...?
Is a requited girth, of when, any of a decency's curse?
Has found me, in a live and by chastity's purpose
Handsomer skills that agree, in no known terms...
I had the taste of pride, like a reality of sin, to accuse
Why...?
No man with a tradition of sincerity, is this island commit
Without the sigh of me, the irony to dwell and seek tight
The course of another ship of fortune, that has seldom to wit:
Look, an eye of poise, if not intellects poison...
Made manifest by the only few, of bared conscience
That has us for curiosity's fool, but you, for another hero to loan
A flower of understated chaste; a victim of letters of prescience?
Tall tales of nothing more than a drunk hysteria?
Here is your mind, in my way for one more timidity...
Think and details of weal, we will know until votes ***** drama
To a reaching hour, no one above another, like acts of humanity...
Sep 4, 2022
Sep 4, 2022 at 3:17 PM UTC
I have a lot of pent-up fear;
many things really do terrify me.
I’ve never really been comfortable in the dark,
my imagination has never granted me that luxury.
Phantasms from almost 15 years ago follow me in the shadows.
I’ve always enjoyed looking out at a cityscape
from the top of a tower or building
but I’ve never let go of the railing.
I haven’t let myself come close to the edge,
my back against the wall.
I’m too scared of falling.
I’ve been harrowed by many things,
but one demon reigns over them all.
I’m really scared of disenchantment.
I’m scared that the very reasons that I was initially loved for
will eventually become the reasons I am detestable.
I’m scared my determination and perseverance
will turn into me being stubborn and close-minded.
I’m scared that my sweet thoughts and caring nature
will transform into me being clingy and suffocating.
I’m afraid that all the reasons you love me
will turn into the reasons why you regret.
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 9:43 AM UTC
what drifts between the mired lines of fate and dreams sets free the sorrowed wakening of the harrowed heart.
in cold rapture, time stands still with every word exposed and seen through touching, gazing eyes
each moment gone before begets the forward, eternal march unto dawn
the good bestows lawful effortless bounty of what was always meant to be
two hearts beckon upon each other in torment and rapture, anxiously seething one another
patience values the faithful wrought with time and humbleness
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 6:06 AM UTC
A harrowed frenzy
Ghosting through halls,
Memorizing nonsensical miscellany.
Exhaustion reigns supreme.
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 11:09 PM UTC
Tread the line to seek the light, then cry havoc in the dark
As all things that were look up in pallor at the flame filled sky.
These are no mere ramblings, alas, it is palpable rumblings from which you make haste
The great mystery revealed with long streaks of dread and those guilty of...momentary worship
To them, a fate to match their faith
A Tartaric vision to sweep clean the stock houses and to empty thine senates.
With spears of lightning and whips of the sun, the anguish of fact, and doubt of the one.
Those of the fallen are but ashes upon the wind, free from the righteous to bare.
They too do not relish the task, where on Earth is the joy of this judgement.
Only the heroes stand.
There is no Hercules, no Pericles, nor any you'd take for granted to expect
Beneath a final sinking sun, it is the unknown alone who dare to speak.
To call out with their last breaths
To lay a harrowed plea at the feet of the Gods of death.
To cast weary eyes upon the remaining pools of light.
Draw up from here, your wicked rule! No more at the mercy of an Olympian.
Indeed, could mercy truly persist? Have not these ravaging flames feasted with merriment?
Does one not now bare witness?
The shattered shields and broken swords are remnants now of what will be a forgotten world.
The sweet majesty of an unspeakable truth, as if it were guilded with Gold as it rolls back and away from this once sacred place.
Its is here, beyond all calamity.
Blissful lightness of the Heart.
A beauty one's eyes cannot grasp
A freedom to assuage the lust of the free.
The waters of crystal clear tranquility and heart free from all humility.
A God! As they had once been shown.
The aromatic taste of divinity.
The motionless seas in a stasis of perfection
Can you truly know?
To see why your heart first beat?
To find out why a soul became what you call "me"?
There is no time for this and that, only for what is, and time isn't.
Revel in the serenity now, sleep and hope to never wake, it is a dream they chime,
A dream.
The noose of eternity is now but a tread on a finger...a reminder, of what?
I cannot remember.
Sep 28, 2011
Sep 28, 2011 at 2:29 PM UTC
ashtrays, mugs and
moments: rattle within, outside their place.
our brittle, needy bones
support head,
appetite-shorn body: Bouldering.
Walking. |Wicking. Mushing bridges
churning-over water, tide.
High-regard neighbor’s children re-
move plastic decorations while that grandpa
hangs-- alive,
stayed-- in unused gutters, -o! Wind and
snow-flaked, grassy yardstomps lead us
with body-shag coats to-
doors, somedays-ies and happenstance
below mortuaries, toe-
tags, dangling shoe-string,
draping clothes'-
line our spindly, warrowed hallways
between blankets, sweaty
feelers lie, their
harrowed, heaving trunks hold night-trees/
palms aloft and hopeful.
a glint, a chance, a something.
wicker furniture, lace.
a bed, a "yes." Please,
a you.
Jan 2, 2012
Jan 2, 2012 at 1:20 AM UTC
Starry Starry high moon nearly half of waxing
trailing the son running the show in Great Barrington
Western Mass., the Berkshires always so dreamlike as if like on
account of such frostings; and we prepare details in so many ways
for so many days dark or light no difference this way this it's all him first
of there and last to leave likely then I'll be still again the usually there but otherwise
he'll cover my door and I'm my own creative spectator and scout when more involved I'm a holy rout';
also I am fully prepared for out a sleep under stars in the small town I love Smithsonian said as small ones be you may consider it numeral one to be; be it or not your cup of tea or time for such; I may seek the church by morn with to be and by the story with the song and story within Alice's Restaurant would seem soup kitchen on turkey day might be an ordinary thing to lend the love with arms hearts and hands if not Kripalu best yoga center about and food there be a walk in just a simple fee and best of company so kids are so well growing up and slowly I'm waking from my own harrowed cup; and I never stop loving with all hate or betray all betrayals or feel more need of forgiveness be I've done enough and so much more and in perfect abandonment and all betrayal all the more seven billion family be and this beautiful universe that rings and rings and rings sings singing all love all beauty be and all is willing and shares all that too; rocks and trees coming greater still, waters woods wilds calling routing for us all ever closer the Great of opportunity ever ripening within about to fall upon us all....
<3 <3 Pump Pump jump start it up!!!!
Nov 22, 2012
Nov 22, 2012 at 4:50 AM UTC
i think i could see myself
holding fragile life
in the palms of my hands,
a reverant look upon my face
as these eyes, harrowed by
sleepless nights and unsightly sights,
gaze down upon a being
wrapped in cotton blankets
that i love more than my own life
and then i could see myself
giving it up
because i do not know how to
stay loving;
i do not know how to be gentle
and i fear turning into my own father
by becoming a father myself
Jul 15, 2016
Jul 15, 2016 at 11:02 PM UTC
Gargling on the film of rain smatter
For what?
Into that blue, carve a square nest
That I can pour bar its clutter
Into my wrist
All but
Ruby blessed
Harrowed koi speckled and spatter
The semi colons
My indecisive pause or full stop
Leaves my head underwater
And the pop
Stolen
To offward hop
Glassy bottles, tubes of black
Know me well
A who that breathes this ending call
Can look and reaching back
From the fall
See fell
The absent bawl
Vanity violet and lied
Face me
The name of bunching petals different
As irises inside their wet ink hide
Back reflect
Come free
What I not expect
Matted layers compact swung panels
Either way
Open, to their cast of prisoned souls
Closed, to continue what may well
Unfold
A lily bay
Or ferric shoal
Jeweller for tonight has set
I am a bearer
Through murky depths resend no fact
And airless suspend the single bracelet
A pact
Sealed to wear
When I am lost in their black
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 10:23 PM UTC
The wisdom of the ages
falls deaf on silent ears,
when those of 'better' knowledge
lack in better years.
The words they speak are naught but verse,
a pretty, failing void;
They barter time and trade despair,
and on ignorance are sold.
They traipse about with jaunty stride-
merrily nonchalant-
flinging thoughtless wording
like an idiot savant.
To all those who have viewed them,
they are deemed to be unfit;
For who would suffer morons
when they have but half a wit?
In truth, they are our future,
but 'tis a future that I'd fear;
Too many of this generation
talk and will not hear.
They crave with desperation
a life too dark and harrowed,
for live lived in deprivation
'tis a point of view too narrowed.
They do not seek a power inside,
instead, they seek a chalice;
in which all the world's a stage-
but 'tis a poison breeding malice.
Oh- I weep!
for the years that lie ahead-
my brain rebels in horror,
my heart bleeds, raw and red;
The youth are turning old enough,
the future is uncertain;
and all because the high schools
treat education like a curtain.
"Behind this doors, labeled number one,
we have a distant future,
where minding manners, and respect
will make you kind and nurtured;
where all the pathways open up,
and you've made a great success;
...Or pick door number two,
and make life, now, a mess."
Of course our cock-sure young ones
will pick the latter door-
for partying, and breaking rules,
surely, there couldn't be more?
So to all the world, I say Nay!!
This is not the way for things to transpire!
What happened to change, and progress??
What happened to stoking the fire??
I won't support a mindless flock,
I will not suffer fools;
But most of all, I will not suffer
no education in our schools.
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 1:18 AM UTC
sodden cheeks
drenched in sorrow's repine
the drops fell
with a saddening gush
little by little
the sides of the
face felt less wet
as the air of solace
toweled the harrowed skin
for an age
drab raining clouds
prevailed
each day the tourment
of loss being there to
remind
of a suffering ache
of the stress in agony
of the constant wailing
not on the wane
out of the dark pall
of demise
emerges
the bright sun's light
reconciling
the hours of grief
Apr 18, 2021
Apr 18, 2021 at 8:02 PM UTC
paralytic skies
hold close their embrace
folding in
upon themselves
glaring
burning cobalt eyes
crushing
their despairing captives
whose hollow faces
drag the recalcitrant air
into the cavities
of spiritless lungs
blood and bone
test the bars
of their inherited prison
built with
walls of allegorical stone
they cast
their harrowed gaze
upward
prospecting for pay dirt
through tapped out veins
of hope
and love
in strip mined heavens
Sep 23, 2024
Sep 23, 2024 at 11:50 PM UTC