"hearkening" poems
#there are the ones
that feel it climb up
the shadow towards the light,
hesitation on every rung,
each wave of the arising
overwhelms unabated ―
and woe betides those
who are on the run
from a storm's deluge
A rousing ocean breeze
stirs inside the memory
of an unframed seashell
lying on the hearth mantel;
heightened sensitivity
lapping soundlessly,
spindrift plashing
the shoreline
of another world's
feigned peace
Perhaps the muted voice
of guilty pleasures,
hushed by their own
hidden truths
Feeling the unfelt textures
of every stifled vibration
left unbreathed
The naked truth befallen
so cold and lonely
Running in circles,
volatile as all those
unspoken excitations raging ―
and the whispers of those
who hear not
the voices in the wind
An emotionally enslaved heart
tarries, marooned high and dry
in a memory on a distant sand bar
lain fallow for so long ―
stagnant darkness
of an unsated soul
gathered on the back
of a parched tongue
sullied wordless
Rising up through
a dusty hieroglyph corridor
through an unlocked
labyrinth gate; vestige echoes
from somewhere left behind
in an incomprehensible
abandoned wake
It's getting harder and harder
for an insatiable soul to breathe ...
climbing up a tree trunk―
up within the silence
of the listening tree
Toes dug into
the rough bark furrows ―
fingers reaching upwards
beyond their deepest known grasp
A shadow stranded
out on a hangin' bough
hearkening without ears that hear:
“perhaps they’ll listen now“
the wingless bird sings
in psalms that fly away
on tattered feathers
over untamed waters roil
Back to nature’s waning youth,
the bough bends unbroken
to taste the freedom
of the wild absolving seas
Jesse Stillwater
June 2018
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 12:41 PM UTC
in the heart
of the night
a slice of moonlight
cascading
beckoned
i rouse
its mesmerizing lure
gently stirs
a hazy
remembrance
entranced
from shadows i emerge
hearkening its echo
you’re dreaming
awaken
its shimmering light
engulfed me
prying open my stubborn eyes
in the onyx
darkness
its silver glow
enticed me outside
i stood silent
whilst glistening dewdrops
danced on my toes
a sterling lunar crescent
enlightening midnight
softly
serenades
me
wake up
life’s a trance
you’re
hypnotized
mesmerized
in an ocean of emptiness
i heard
a celestial orb
calling
and ne’er slept again
©2016janetaylor
May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 7:23 AM UTC
The hollow wind funneled the voice
of the distant night-train crossings,
awakening a familiar silence
hanging from the vast wilderness sky
A restless heart hearkening the echoes,
imagining a runaway Pullman
flew away off the rails, airborne
on the winged wind headed north
Winter pausing for a moment
in the shadows of familiarity,
as if parsing the unspoken breathings
in an echoless surrendered sigh;
uncertain if tacit words set free
could ever allow a heart broken
to feel whole again
There is no absolving voice
that whispers in a solemner tone :
Death has no mercy ―
love remains marooned in the wake ,..
and it feels like the world’s gone mad
letting time be the arbiter of perpetuity
The fading dream of a motherless child;
a wish to be held maternally
fell to the ground with a thud,
breaking the silence,
dissipating formless as the shape of water
Muted cold lips so full of questions
morphing into fugitive sighs
come the unsettled night;
when shadows disappear like frail memories
that passed too soon to grasp,
thickly palpable as the warm breath
a winter bird alone on frosty branch
There’s no fear in braving the darkness
in the winter wilderness of life borne alone
There’s no way of knowing what you’ll find
down that long empty road back home
Life just flashes by silently before your eyes
through the windshield
of countless miles and miles
And there’s nothing you can do about it ―
It’s like hearing the moment of truth in a lie
when all I was looking for
was how I got here in this now,.. yesterday
only finding a hopeless poet
scribbling slightly stained pages,
spilling a bitter sweet dream ...
harlon rivers ... February 2018
///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Feb 14, 2018
Feb 14, 2018 at 10:31 AM UTC
"Is there anybody there?" said the caller,
"Six ten eight oh one two four three nine?"
And his ears attuned to the empty hum
Of the long-forgotten line;
And an LED on the handset
Flashed, for a moment, red,
And he dialled the number a second time:
"Is there anybody there?" he said.
But no one replied to the caller,
No sound but the dialling tone
Came drifting into his waiting ear
As he held that haunted phone;
But only a host of phantom listeners,
Of spectres weak and strange
Stood hearkening to that human voice
That echoed around the exchange;
And he felt in his heart their strangeness,
And his heart was afraid and nervous,
With his hand on the final digit
Of that number not in service;
For he suddenly tapped the receiver
And spoke on that line of dread:
"Tell them I called, and no one answered,
That I kept my word!" he said;
Ay, they heard him replace the receiver,
And his mumbled cursing later,
With the usual subdued but enthused delight
Of the switchboard operator.
Nov 2, 2010
Nov 2, 2010 at 6:26 AM UTC
i
Damsel in distress, open thine soul to me, open thine chest
Colleen of medieval lace, of darling face, I'll taketh thee now;
Yet how canst I taketh one? If none is around, Talitha cuna ghost
I seeketh even thine smoke, wherever thou art, mine spirit waits.
ii
A repast banquet awaiteth for one, a table sitteth here, chairs for two; two chairs as I sitteth and eateth alone, the plàtes art full, though none amour' to tryeth the desert, none next to me for the fruit punch of thirst. Only me staring at an empty blank wall.
iii
Now mine eye's do crawl, searching the hearkening clearance
None was ever here, just signs of emptiness, and mine own disappearance, as at that moment, when the fine dinner was set; mine heart fluttered backwards, being alone, mine spirit left.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 8:31 AM UTC
Often think I'm odd
to fall in love--
a well too deep
to crawl out unscathed.
So I stay outwith
peeping inside the pit,
hearkening to sundry sounds
of infectious laughs--
jealous--
I too cheerfully fell
into affection's well.
How I was wrong!
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 6:02 AM UTC
Incendiary asperity:
The world's existentiality
Agony, the Merciless & Mercenary
Scourging me entirely.
The Angst of the Aeons
Are the pedigree, the genealogy, the history borne to emancipate Me as a Vessel of Sanctity
For the valiant souls
Are the souls of transcendence, who revere in remembrance
The Amour of the Yore
My Vestibule Heart
Expands, contracts, being consecrated demands just as
Starry-Wombed the Cosmos, we
Must grow, burgeon through our learning & yearning, deserving & pining for the Promise of Morrow
For we were not formed
To wallow in sorrow.
As I gaze to the heavens
O, ***** and Gomorrah I remember
The Wife of Lot looks back forever: emblazoned as a Petrified December,
Then Fire & Sulphur descended, mankind nearly ended;
What is the lesson?
Of faith we are descendants.
Why do you
Roil my ravaged and brutally savaged soul?
Must bitterness be the wage for days spent having prayed
On my knees, for armistice, by The Empyrean One’s decree?
Though I have fallen,
I shall rise up
For the Fate’s Auric Visage radiates light upon the leaven,
Dost ferment the flesh dominating mine spirit.
Hearkening to
The susurrus of the Sovereign of Songbird’s Sacrosanct Love.
Let the Ethereal Tides of Time
Bathe me in baptismal & divine tribulation, trial
For a writhing while,
Sacrality is a war,
The Primal Instinct’s Immemorial Diminuendo.
Where has fake paradise of the Sylvan Shine
Those forested, emerald Eyes
That glisten in mine dreams gone?
Your visage twas my divine.
Though I am forlorn,
The Cosmo-Plexus of Empyreal Love hath sworn
To the Days of Yore
That I shall soar once more.
To my Enfettered Soul,
Excelsior.
Jan 1, 2019
Jan 1, 2019 at 1:20 PM UTC
There we stood, my dog and I
The wide open expanse of the winter
Field beneath our feet. The vapor of our
Breaths mix as we charge through the
Snow, side by side. I see the earnest expectation
That shines in his eyes. A bond is formed.
A sudden stop, ears perked, there exists only
The dead silence of the space between us and
The woodland trees in the distance. The thin
Border between our world and the wilderness.
We **** our head towards the sound from the
Trees- the distant yip of coyotes. A tension grows.
I see the silhouettes, they silently glide across the
Dark horizon of the forest. The taunting yips call
Out to us. The hair stands up on his back, on my neck.
Blood in my ears, the taste of iron at my teeth. We
Crouch and stalk, a snarl forms in his toothed mouth.
The opponents stand, sizing up. Yellow eyes lock.
My veins pulsate with blood, our hearts pump as one.
The dog looks back, his eyes begging for the command.
Pleading for the shedding of blood as the animosity fills
My eyes with blackened darkness, hearkening to the days
Of spears and stones. My fists clenched and a snarl forms
Around my lips and my teeth. The space shrinks.
I can taste the blood, I can hear the wounded screams of
Our opponents as they fall at our feet. Tearing of flesh
And breaking of bone as his teeth rip skin and my hands
Crush necks. And yet a sudden moment of clarity visits,
And I grab the collar despite the desperate cry. A retreat is made.
Jan 1, 2013
Jan 1, 2013 at 7:11 PM UTC
somewhere near the spoken
and unspoken
in a time stitched into
the mesh of camaraderie
beings are too easy to vanish
in an oblivion created by
business of a galloping heart
and lure of wealth
and though winds are fast
with waters still
she feels the tug of roots
pulling her back to memories
and vivid textures of paint
once audaciously smeared
on sheets of paper
now form a collage
of muddy remembrance
but with a blow of passions under her wings
and hearkening to voices of accomplishment
her being must go on to a different place
to transform
but not vanish into a galaxy of stars all alike
but be the sun of a million souls
yet remain the glisten of morning dew
yet remain the chirp of blossoms
yet remain a crochet of smiles
though she does not wait or beg
for world to join her
or apologize for giving into her desires
it is with this start
the floating dream of success awaits
in celebration of which
under twinkling heavens
bidding farewell to an October night
she slips into the trance of kathakali
and every beat of her feet
counts down
to the advent of orange morning light
of her own small sun
Oct 24, 2016
Oct 24, 2016 at 5:13 AM UTC
Psalms 103:20: “Bless the LORD, ye his angels, that excel in strength, that do his commandments, hearkening unto the voice of his word.”
I must be in heaven
because I’m surrounded by Angels
Towering, statuesque women
legs, smooth like the ocean we swim in
Angels
Glowing examples with spectacular wings
pieced together by glittering things
Jewels, gilded spectacles of art
to frame the emaciated bones tied with strings
Such delicate, glittering things
How glorious!
How Victorious!
These creatures appear to be
They’ve won the prize
for all seeing eyes
to gaze at their bodies for free
I am torn to shreds
between admiration and jealousy
For these, angels are perfection half dead
New age fossils preserved like precious artifacts
They’ve been sent down from heaven
as an example of what God must want Supremecy to look like
I must be the devil
I’m shorter than these angels
with at least fifty percent more body fat
Descending to the sound of church bells
the Angels spread an important message
Appear flawless
Rule the World with Pink, says the lingerie
Leave the forks and books where they belong
Slogans like Unwrap Me appearing on thongs so,
Purity within myself seems wrong
If one wants to be an Angel
an object of affection
a receiver of attention
one must become an angel
Grow a few inches, drop forty pounds
Get used to your growling stomach’s sound
It’s only your morals you’re throwing away
Hire people to mend any tooth decay
Oh your hair starts to fall out?
Wigs are back in style
As a Victorias Secret Angel
You’ll constantly smile
If your heart begins to fail
and vital organs deteriorate
Your mental illusions will bring you a date
with Jesus
He’s right on your shoulder, bejeweling your wings
As an Angel, you deserve only beautiful things.
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 9:24 PM UTC
What can become of just broken glass?
Your life shattered one day it took the strain it bowed out like the guy in Oklahoma City told me about
His large window bulged almost to the point of breaking from the repercussion from the blast and he
Was over a mile from the impact was your sorrow detonated in the autumn is that why there are so
Many colors gold red and orange then the rich blue sky reaches the dark waters to you it is a cruel
Burning but the loss of love or a loved one restores at the edges as the pain processes and goes to deep
Hidden levels they can and are consumed by time but all the realness they have acquired by a rich life
Flares at the end and with your closeness you will experience each particle moods and portents flood
Over you the basking is intrinsic to the devouring flame noble lives to the most part are hidden from
Sight now like the pine cone there is a hearkening of the pine those moist breezes those drying hot winds
Now are released to tell their stories the fire burning is not the one that is mesmerizing in the fire place
Against a dark base it leaps with red tips yellow and orange perform a natural glory but I’m talking about
Elijah his horses and chariot were glory borne it was the purist white flame look and be amazed be
Enthralled look quickly because in an instant it will be engulfed in the mist sky and heaven converge in a
Single point loss of speech only the jaw hangs open the eyes strain to see inside you feel the tempest
Beat gathering momentum you laid as it were your offering of sacrifice in whatever its form was it was
Excepted I have it on good account that there is a rainbow that covers God’s throne and you’re broken
And shattered life you thought couldn’t be mended think again friend the angels have already taken your
Pain placed it into one of the outstanding windows you will never see a stain glass window on this earth
With such depth of color and meaning there are no tears in heaven but laughter and rejoicing echoes
from broken glass now a show place of stained glass
Nov 17, 2011
Nov 17, 2011 at 11:20 PM UTC
Reverberations resound,
Airwaves surround,
The Holy Ethereal
Transcribes my Soul Sound.
I yearn for freedom,
I sing for heartsease,
I beseech the firmaments,
That musicality conceive
A New Dawn; Millenial Fawn;
Material-Realm Transcendence;
Spiritual Efflorescence,
O, my Spirit is hearkening unto
The Holy Dove's cathexis.
Write from your heart,
Sing from your soul,
Unravel the Perdition
Until The Vestibule of Lightness unfolds.
Dream in stratosphere;
Achieve upon The Terraqueous Plane;
Ascend The Earthen Spire;
Know we each bleed the same.
What is music without love?
What is Heaven without Hell?
The Elemental Legacy beckons you higher,
Legion fatidic arbiters conspire
Rendering self-sovereignty a liar.
Open your eyes,
Unfurl your heart,
Sing to the Aethers
That The Spirit never depart.
This is Musicality's Manifesto,
This is Destiny's Diminuendo;
Therefore,
Know the blaze, fathom the burn
Of unquenched ardor, unyielding zeal;
With passion within, ye
Shall never fail,
So pilgrimage Life's Mecca
Bearing its sacral travail.
(Se' lah)
Jun 8, 2020
Jun 8, 2020 at 12:17 PM UTC
Hearkening whispers that remind me of footsteps;
awaiting them to be yours---
I'm ashamed, defeated on all fours.
I'm crestfallen because I'm certain
that I am devastatingly unsound---
nose stuck to the ground.
I have a mood indigo so abiding it's embarrassing.
My heart is colliding and subsiding to this pain.
I hear one tick and imagine that it's the lights;
a plight to know this night hasn't died---
but it never is one.
I'm pretending its all a burlesque
but repressing the truth that it never is that picturesque.
It's never a picture show.
I dream unsoundly,
and now my world is despondent and unsoundly.
Here I stand, invisible and indigo.
I've been indigo since "my baby said goodbye."
I'd call myself Ivonne
but nobody would even care to know.
Dec 24, 2016
Dec 24, 2016 at 9:05 AM UTC
Melodies
mumbled through the corrosive
coating of plastic
pieces jammed directly into
damaged ear drums.
Songs
strained across beats
berating the mesmerized
mentality of awesome into the
auto-tuned automatons.
Notes
numbingly droned on rhythms
righteous in their
thinking that all problems are
part of the present past.
Words
are what brings the perfunctory lives of
people to a stop,
singularly holding onto
hell in lines and
living in the storing
of stories for
future generations to remember,
regardless of race gender or class,
creed religion or background.
Poetry, the
truly precious example of
earnest men and women
wearing their lives on paper
lined suits
strengthened by the emotional bodies
broken and bled for ink and
imagery, is capable of
capturing the base of humanity while
hearkening to the Immortal and his
ill-mentioned brother, is made
material by man and
meaning more to each whom
enter the world left
when they began, is
perfection without ever needing to
win, is love
without ever having to
hear the other speak, is everlasting and forever
evolving just as
all life does.
Oct 20, 2011
Oct 20, 2011 at 2:43 AM UTC
Noise are made,
Door **** turning.
Continuously shaking the **** makes me afraid.
The door creaks open as fear burning
...............
To discover his face
Just for curiosity, to build a case.
A case on THE Devil
That no one could ever
Only darkness is aware of him
Pulling my sheets, trembling, oh Grimm
As he walked over to me
Hearkening to whisper voice
Looking deep into his depraved eyes
What's next...
To be unknow! Ahhh...
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 8:30 AM UTC
Nine angels
Care and naked simplicity
Future weal, to remind in open quarrel
Speed is a having guest, to avarice when implicitly...
A heart of darkness
And the cares of calling a friend to the table
Rued gestures of candor, a candle of secrets
And the stir of something greater, than a justifiable...
Looking hard, for a salient generosity of ply and can
Will a shared eye, begin here, or in the meet
Of promises told to take their time, a stodgy plan?
Letting boding become a shame? taking a seat...
Ten angels
And the blindness of voices attuned to a pitch
Vice and curiosity to tender a vantage, well
Who is the other side of privilege in the dark, so rich?
I am, says one, the truth in terrified gifts...
Is a language we can afford; a hatred of hearts, and nix?
With a nobility of silence, we have adjusted might's to is...
A hearkening joke, the only way to survive the day, ad sic.?
All flee, but the one, and the need of cause serious
To remember the taste of couth, complimenting the hour with aim
Did, says the one to remain, the word of composure is ours furious
Adding, says the rest to a whole comfort, I knew by the very name...
Mar 16, 2023
Mar 16, 2023 at 2:03 PM UTC
Except for the Star
The travelers huddled in the cold night.
A lengthy journey almost at an end.
A journey fueled by hope
And threatened by the madness of a king.
They tired.
And often wondered whether their chase
Was real
Or if it was yet another means of
Squandered wealth.
Except for the star.
It was close.
Bethlehem was tomorrow's end.
Now the return.
The child had been all and more,
And their gifts were received in awe
As if they too were signs
Needed to assure of the offspring.
That was yesterday.
An event now just a memory
Taking on the unreal
Line of a tapestry that unfolded in a dream.
Except for the star.
The ages would tell and retell their story.
And many would believe.
And many would not believe.
What indeed would drive
Monarchs to live with camels under the sky
For but a glimpse of
A small boy?
Prophet's art is lost.
The hearkening of madmen.
Except for the star.
And except for the King.
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 5:53 PM UTC
The woods ...
... where the snowstorm blows
......where the rain is sudden
...........where the trees have arms that span in and ****** at life
..............where the mists sprinkle and move
...................where the owl sat as a watchman as we settled beneath the stars
........................where the breeze mumbles tribal mantras
.............................where the greenery conceals a huge number of sins
................................where the animals be-companion solitary **** Sapiens
...............where the way twists up and into and over and liberates the lost
I've seen the woods…
… ..and I sit alone
… .… and the quiet is all
… and the ears hear just the leaves falling
… and the morning light comes in streams
… ..and the undergrowth scents of ages past
… ..and the creek sings a despairing song
… and the hawk leaves a shadow upon our tangled dreams
… .… and the growths pay respect to the cycle of life
… and blooms come into bud
… ..and I've felt every one of its favors… and felt its rot
I am the backwoods…
… .it inhales underneath my skin – whispering breeze
… .… it races through my veins – prospering waterway
… .… it houses the owl – isolated home
… ..it whispers to the towns – lost heritage
… ..… it develops contorted roots from the dirt of my yearning - verdant rot
… ..it discovers life inside my folds – rising sapling
… it spreads an overhang over my casing – memory's shadow
… .it mumbles to the hearkening ear – achieving bark
… I've felt the excursion inside its ignored heart … it offers elegance to the lost
Oct 26, 2017
Oct 26, 2017 at 7:29 AM UTC
*revolutions of the second hand
are innumerable to a watchful eye,
which is no comfort to this bruising
...shame
nor can heart's run far enough away
from pulsing, cancerous gangrene;
so off to the darkest mile it treads
...softly
sifts into the cooling of a fading day,
a gentle crushing blow fixes completely
these drowning, despondent smiles
...of yesterday
where wafting wavelets wail forlornly,
while whispering affections, once silent;
hearkening back to more innocent times
...found wanting*
Oct 27, 2016
Oct 27, 2016 at 9:04 PM UTC
Except for the Star
The travelers huddled in the cold night.
A lengthy journey almost at an end.
A journey fueled by hope
And threatened by the madness of a king.
They tired.
And often wondered whether their chase
Was real
Or if it was yet another means of
Squandered wealth.
Except for the star.
It was close.
Bethlehem was tomorrow's end.
Now the return.
The child had been all and more,
And their gifts were received in awe
As if they too were signs
Needed to assure of the offspring.
That was yesterday.
An event now just a memory
Taking on the unreal
Line of a tapestry that unfolded in a dream.
Except for the star.
The ages would tell and retell their story.
And many would believe.
And many would not believe.
What indeed would drive
Monarchs to live with camels under the sky
For but a glimpse of
A small boy?
Prophet's art is lost.
The hearkening of madmen.
Except for the star.
And except for the King.
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 1:27 PM UTC
When will you stop
chasing storms?
Though charcoal clouds smudge the horizon
And lumber closer,
You hop through time
in search of lightning and hail.
You ***** through grass,
searching by moonlight,
for the lost crumbs of missing children.
Even in the morning dew
are echoes of torrents to you.
Always hungry, ever seeking
For the season's latest something:
Flocks of cotton candy birds
Or crystal flasks of stardust
And other baubles of whimsy,
All to gouge out the malaise eating at you -
To chase the ghosts of yesteryear,
The specter of youth's potential,
Hearkening back
To when life still held meaning -
And to elude the grasp of Despair.
For a floating spot of sand
On this ocean of transient stars,
You wish and wail,
Though envy does not become you.
Storms do not chase other storms,
Nor do they compete.
So spin your tears into silk.
Weave them into a tapestry.
Look up and heed your calling,
beautiful dreamer.
You forget that you are a king.
Jun 8, 2017
Jun 8, 2017 at 3:37 AM UTC
i was not there
hearkening the seasons
spoon you out
over time
over by the grains
over by the grounds
at no time truly over
did you not ever figure, baby lion
you’d be the one to take the selfless route
over by the linked
over by the callow
rewards, rewards
i’m glad i was not there
Sep 1, 2017
Sep 1, 2017 at 4:31 PM UTC
Gift me the serenity,
The serenity to accept,
The serenity to accept,
What I cannot hear,
What I cannot see,
What I cannot touch,
What I cannot taste,
What I cannot smell.
What I cannot hear,
What I cannot see,
What I cannot touch,
What I cannot taste,
What I cannot smell,
I cannot accept.
I will never accept,
My face in a crowd,
Of a darkening dawn,
Hearkening to the trumpets,
Regal against the manifest destiny.
Gift me the serenity,
The serenity to accept,
The serenity of concept,
Fleshing out the ability,
Well it's all so trivial,
Trivial is the sound,
We are the sound,
******* when did we,
When did they deserve?
When did they ever deserve?!
Gift me the serenity,
The serenity to shut the **** up,
The serenity to accept my place,
Accept my place as peasant,
Cut away my hearing,
Cut away my sight,
Cut away my touch,
Cut away my taste
Cut away my smell.
Cause then I can accept,
I can find the serenity,
To accept what I cannot change.
For now I find pure anger,
Anger in your complicity,
In your utter serenity,
**** you and your being,
**** you and your money,
**** you and your serenity.
We're in your walls and beating down your doors,
Mountains of the peasants you bleed dry,
Coming back to trudge against the policy,
Of complete and utter serenity.
God gifted you the ability to find serenity in what you could change.
A wise rain from the East comes in with vengeance in its mind,
A pool or two in your backyard turned bitter and tasting of iron,
The liquid creeps into the cracks of your astroturf and seeps into your showerhead.
Now bathe my friend, bathe in the blood of your inaction,
Your passive income ***** the prisoners and bombs the citizens,
A biography written upon the charred flesh of the children,
Tell me how you're God, you're God now, yeah you're gonna grant everyone the serenity to accept what they could fight to change.
Aug 12, 2024
Aug 12, 2024 at 7:08 PM UTC
I talk to thee in viviacious verses
About how bonny, beautiful you are
Because your sparkling spirit nurses
My own from wide and afar
Your true Heart's bliss consists in joy
Seeing it in evolve in others
Diminishing the evil alloyed
To our spiritual siblings, kindred brothers
Shakespeare in love tells all the world
What he sees inside it's hearkening heart
When all the world's a stage
Love will strike down fear and get to play its part
O Love, let me be the tender voice
That lets the babes of the world rejoice
Feb 16, 2017
Feb 16, 2017 at 12:33 AM UTC
A glorious sight befell my eyes
A pristine untouched bearer of supplies
Made of wood, of steel, or anything buildable
The Table
Possessing an essence unlike anything else
Hearkening to an unalterable purpose and tableness
Providing unending sustenance on a platform that's stable
The Table
Though the lingering presence in this perceptual world is illusory
The unchanging, uncleft presence is perfection conceptually
Artisanal glyphs adorn its sides unmatchable
The Table
While strife and pandemonium reign in this material domain
There remains a bastion of stability man cannot attain
Indeed, this mystical countenance attains a fable
The Table
Weathered and wizened through inummerable epochs
Joyous outpourings bestow praise not enough
Remaining of unmatchable nature even with the made-in-China label
The Table
May 29, 2020
May 29, 2020 at 1:05 PM UTC