"heartened" poems
He had drifted in among us as a straw drifts with the tide,
He was just a wand'ring mongrel from the weary world outside;
He was not aristocratic, being mostly ribs and hair,
With a hint of spaniel parents and a touch of native bear
He was very poor and humble and content with what he got,
So we fed him bones and biscuits, till he heartened up a lot;
Then he growled and grew aggressive, treating orders with disdain,
Till at last he bit the butcher, which would argue want of brain.
Now the butcher, noble fellow, was a sport beyond belief,
And instead of bringing actions he brought half a shin of beef,
Which he handed on to Fido, who received it as a right
And removed it to the garden, where he buried it at night.
'Twas the means of his undoing, for my wife, who'd stood his friend,
To adopt a slang expression, "went in off the deepest end",
For among the pinks and pansies, the gloxinias and the gorse
He had made an excavation like a graveyard for a horse.
Then we held a consultation which decided on his fate:
'Twas in anger more than sorrow that we led him to the gate,
And we handed him the beef-bone as provision for the day,
Then we opened wide the portal and we told him, "On your way."
8.4k
I sit watching brown eyes
probe affectionately through the haze
at the mirrors created by close family.
I think the intimacy that is made possible
by the sharing of wine, **** and space
in a dim room full of sad love and smoke
will never ceased to amaze me.
The men see themselves in each other
and are both heartened in their own ways
I am drunk now in my way
and The Mirror is ****** in his
and Brown (Green) Eyes is both at once
Appalachian mouths move in turns
to take a hit or a drink or a shot at wisdom
Suddenly the truth of our three souls is laid bare
on the tiny table there between us.
My heart tightens around the words
as they echo through each chamber
growing louder with each reverberation.
“Happiness is being able to breathe”
Love you, Frank.
Nov 21, 2019
Nov 21, 2019 at 11:52 AM UTC
There are moments
when I feel more clearly than ever
that I am in the company
of my own person.
This comforts and reassures me,
this heartens me,
just as my tridimensional body
is heartened by my own authentic shadow.
There are moments
when I really feel more clearly than ever
that I am in the company
of my own person.
I stop
at a street corner to turn left
and I wonder what would happen
if my own person walked to the right.
Until now that has not happened
but it does not settle the question.
4.9k
The third moon brought forth from the shadow dark.
Gentle breeze freewheeled across the lakeshore.
Windswept was the air, in peace night was marked-
Unyielding stillness, blooming fairness more.
Silky pastel cloth, gushing curtain soft.
The window let in hushed waft soothing cool.
Fixed firmly on shore with poles planted stiff,
A pavilion meek light heartened the pool.
By the portico was a tree bent down
Whose white flowers bloomed lovely as a nymph.
Its jagged branches, lumped of golden-brown,
Delicately grown each emerald leaf.
Underneath its shades were cheery plantlets;
Pebbles hard and cold; red earth spongy ground;
Flying whirly bugs, glittering bead lets.
Fair maiden deferred, there then can be found.
Pleasing to the eye, that dignified dress
In white noble silk with fine needlecraft.
Regal as she stood, just for a mistress.
Mystic was her eyes, a soul was grafted.
Filled with potent life in her burning stare.
Profound as the deep, tranquil as it surge.
One may glimpse straight to, utmost one can't bare.
To its mysteries, one gave in and urged.
Verdant her hair was, hearty as it shone.
Longer than she was, white as the moonlight.
In her neck are chains, beads and shells she owned.
Varies in sizes, things that make her bright.
Oct 11, 2012
Oct 11, 2012 at 5:30 AM UTC
O Christ—Thou rarest flower of hearts—Thou didst sail on the storm-tossed lake of prejudiced minds. Its evil-scented, gloomy thought-waves lashed Thy lily-tender soul. They crucified Thee with their evil. Yet Thou didst shed the aroma of goodness and forgiveness, and didst help them to be purified by remorse, so helping them to become attractively sweet-scented with Thine all-loving Flower-Soul.
O Thou Great Lover of error-torn brothers—an unseen monument of the mightiest miracle of love was established in each heart when the magic wand of Thy voice uttered: "Forgive them, for they know not what they do."
Thou hast healed the cataract of hatred, and now we have grown to see: "Love thine enemies as thyself, for they are thy brothers—though sick and sleeping."
Thou hast taught us not to increase their delirious kicks of hatred by battering them with the bludgeons of revenge. Thine undying sympathy hath inspired us to heal and wake our brothers, suffering from the delirium of anger, by the soothing salve of our forgiveness.
Thy crucifixion reminds us of the daily crucifixion of our fortitude by trials, of our wisdom by ignorance, of our self-control by the scathing hands of temptation, and of our love by misunderstanding.
Thy test on the cross proved the victory of Thy wisdom over ignorance, of Thy soul over flesh, of Thy happiness over pain, and of Thy love over hatred. So are we heartened to bear our crosses bravely and pleasantly. Teach us to pour out sweetness when crucified by harshness, to bear with calmness the assault of worries, and to give understanding unceasingly to those who unjustly hate us.
O Shepherd of Souls, wandering hearts are of themselves seeking the one fold of divine devotion. We have heard the ever-calling music of Thine infinite kindness. Our one desire is to be at home with Thee, to receive the Cosmic Father with joyous, open eyes of wisdom, and to know that we are all sons of our own One God.
Teach us to conquer the Satan of dividing selfishness, which prevents the gathering of all brother-souls into the one fold of Spirit.
Calling to one another by the watchword: "Love him who loves you, and love all who love you not," let us rally beneath the canopy of the universal sense of Christ-Oneness. Amen.
Whispers from Eternity
A Book of Answered Prayers
1949 Edition
3.2k
I went through my pictures today
And I realized I used to be happy.
Something I haven’t been in a while.
The person I see in those photos
Is not the same person looking back through the mirror;
There’s a faint resemblance, nothing more.
I used to smile and laugh, always so joyful;
I still do, but it’s no longer genuine
No longer healthy.
People used to say my smile made their day
And all I could think was
It’s just a smile, how can it make such a difference?
I never understood what they meant
When they said the smile should be seen in the eye;
That there should be a glitter, a sparkle.
Now when I laugh, when I smile,
It’s polite, lacking reassurance
Missing the light heartened warmth
I went through my pictures today
And I realized I used to be happy.
I finally know what that glitter, that sparkle is.
.
.
.
It’s what’s missing from the mirror.
Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 6:07 PM UTC
The zest of your starlit eyes,
The sound of your mischievous laughter,
The twists of your black strands past the breeze,
I shall breathe, I shall dream,
That splash of raindrops on your lips, your hands,
That impatient tear, sliding past your dimpled cheek,
Those fake fits of anger,
Those blunt threats of fists and fights,
Shall beat within my heart,
until the my veins throb,
until my words tremble,
The sliding of your hand out of mine,
The parting of your shadow, and sliding apart with the light,
The aimless wait for your back to turn,
The constant urge for your feet to stop before the next turn,
I shall remember, I shall blame,
For all those lies and broken promises,
For all those dreams that burned into ash,
For all those half heartened prayers,
I shall bereave,
till my chest heaves,
till my eyes gaze,
till my nights dream,
till my soul begs.....
Sep 22, 2012
Sep 22, 2012 at 3:25 PM UTC
Yesterday,
Tender pursuits
Ordered
by shortened expression
And personal amusement.
Pleasure was channeled
by uncanny imagination.
Ignorance was developed
with years
of sheltered nurture.
Endeavors were focused
Through heartened dreams
Waiting eternities to age.
Today,
Life is starved of dignity,
Lead by the breath of humanity,
And trailed by my past.
Kindness overshadowed
by needless mockery.
Confidence diminished
Through thoughtless faults.
Purity saturated
with uncertain willingness.
Competence choked
from the flairs of society.
Tomorrow,
Independence is a necessity
Steered by Today,
Speckled by yesterday.
Motivation should dictate
my verdicts,
And challenge perils.
Agonies lifted
Through sanguinity
Virtue grown
Only through praise
From the satisfaction of many.
Yesterday, today, tomorrow
Immersed in today
Is the root of my future.
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 9:41 AM UTC
Scared, to let the words die, he hid, amid the languid luxuries of solitary structuring, lavished of the jaded and anguished lines, for lines melodrama, of the deviled days, of state, of mind, in fate, in kind, of the nether commas, devoid in honest ignorance of written words, dying on the caterpillars, cocooned, in all that's assumed, lost, in metamorphosis, never knowing this, is a dream, within a dream, of hope, clinging with stinging fingertips, ears ringing in the ripplits of a synesthesic pulse of visual signals, subliminally sounding the sirens, of solidarity, in the silent screams, of the sun rising, writhing in wanton seduction of my functions laying the heartened words of dead birds, falling from the sky, hardened in sloven cries, to justify, the means, tapping out on the screens, of a misnomer, a loner, in a coma, phoning you from the corner to warn ya, of the storm, in words prone to patience, in imaginit immaculance of the limitless limits, of livid lovers loving each-others lullabies, lolly-gagging in the illegibility, of our lucidity in the pity of leveled lofts, lovely-ly, levitating in elevating thought, fraught with passionate poetry, of ghostly words, blurred in the debilitating reasoning of reasonable reason, seasonally.
Sep 19, 2012
Sep 19, 2012 at 2:14 AM UTC
*I wish so hard that uou would just turn around and
spark my heart
light the fuse that explodes the suns stars and moons
from out of my tempered heart,
to give a word spoken in that one way,
to touch with that delicate intent
to reach for me
and fight for me
and pull me away
from these empty phantasms
calling to my ***
release me.
Open me up to the universe
and let me explode with with mystical madness
let me paint with colours the endless sky
save me from this fortified heartened mess
My love, light me with your fire!
The one that she brings back alight.*
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 1:34 AM UTC
I'm truly blessed
to be counted
amongst the
trooping pilgrims
walking dusty roads,
negotiating rocky
Himalayan trails
on the way
to the mountain top.
Together
as brothers
and sisters,
we traverse
precarious paths,
strengthening
each other,
bucking up,
getting a
second wind
to make that
final push
to scale the most
jagged boulders
that lie nearest
the peaks.
I'm heartened
to see
Dorothy Day,
Mahatmas Gandhi,
The Dali Llama,
Nelson Mandela
and Johnny Cash,
trooping along side me;
keeping me in step
as we press on to
the promised land.
If I get hungry,
Dorthy will
serve me soup
to feed my
spirit.
If I get lonely,
Mahatmas will
muster up a posse,
freely welling from
salt of the earth
to walk with me.
If I take a
wrong turn,
The Dali Llama's
smiling eyes
and sage
advise
will get
my feet
back on the
right path.
On this
tiresome journey
if my will begins
to falter and my
commitment wanes,
Nelson will remind me
to endure the trial
with the grace
of fortitude.
And if we enter
dangerous canyons,
filled with the
cacophony of
boisterous hate,
The Man in Black
will strum his
guitar to quell
the angry noise
and fill our hearts
with loving harmony.
We're on our way
to Freedom's Land
and some believe
we're almost there.
We can see
Martin looking
over those last
jagged ledges,
he's got a prayer
of encouragement
on his lips,
and he's waving
Mrs. Liberty's torch,
showing us
the way,
guiding us
home.
Music Selection:
Sweet Honey on the Rock:
Ain't Gonna Let Nobody Turn Me Around
MLK Jr. Day
1/16/12
Oakland
jbm
Jan 16, 2012
Jan 16, 2012 at 11:55 AM UTC
In this moment, it seems, a spirit has found us
Alone or together our strength is boundless
Our thoughts reach further than one has ever dared to go on foot
A flurry of hopes; both old and new flicker before us
Our light floats in a sea of faith
As read by the virtuous figure “joy and courage go hand in hand”
Thus creating a heartened happiness.
We find laughter in one another
Adversity turns its face to the shadows and hides from safety
Once we have returned
A free spirit is left behind
It waits to be rediscovered
By she who yearns so passionately for it
But it daren’t make a sound
It remains yet unfound
Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 6:44 AM UTC
My love is endless to loving plenty, for itself it does not show,
granted to love a penny. _Possessions of man's ***** eyes,_
Of their murderous hate— many schemes flesh has to conspire,
A change to thought, (I darest spare, lodged by Christ's
gentle love. I hope to know in the ends of prayer.)
Kind heartened I may prove, with gracious kind words,
As with wickedness stuck in mouths; as it's rotting tooth.
All that are wicked; too hide behind sweetest tongues, and
fairest smiles.
_Vile, vile, vile._ Oh how the world is so vile,
to us all living in denial. Greed has made them all blind.
Feb 11, 2022
Feb 11, 2022 at 3:13 PM UTC
Fueled
Inspired
Awakened
Restored
In-tuned
Inlined
Enlightened
Heartened
Guided
Filled
Swarmed
Called
United
Bewildered
Trained
Equipped
I am a Filipino
Youth of today's
Man of future
For God's glory.
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 9:35 AM UTC
Morning was sudden-made as an onwardness of hills,
Meant for donning crusade in chainmail glistenings,
The sun visored in misty slats of cold steel,
To glimmer fusty through the godded grove,
A holy sepulchre, earthly-dim to its rafters of oak,
Where the forest-fall of sunlight shed its rosework,
And a red-breasted bird, its song-flight of dappled gleam,
And in the meadow, where colorful whorled the tale of Saladin,
Wayside flowers shook beneath the destriers' cloth caparisons,
A sunny fullness of vales for the crusaders' forest-heartened lungs,
And when this furthering of sights was sunken from,
Still an onwardness of hills to Jaffa like steppingstones.
Apr 16, 2023
Apr 16, 2023 at 10:11 PM UTC
Your beauty is a double
Inside and outside...
I believe you'd go through any struggle
But really,
Your traits save you the trouble
Smile as bright as the sun
A person like you?
There is none
You tell me I'm pretty
Even when I'm not ready
I really don't believe it,
Is it just out of pity?
Still,
I'm glad you're here,
Your shining optimism
And heartened words
I have never seen your kindness ever deterred
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 12:42 AM UTC
~for yocum~
<>
the quality of commitment is not
restrained by quantity, nor by size,
impressed by nylon sheerest volume,
avoirdupois grams, Imperial weight,
steeled feathers, immeasurable, one ton
tips no true scale into red lined sincerity
the necessary respectful silences it requires,
the social nearness of geo-distancing,
all need prodigal acceptance,
like a long lost son, welcomed without questioning
we flawed, banded by many weaknesses, poorly confessed,
yet, no excuses tendered, to it, long ago surrendered,
but understand this, constancy is not judged
by the frequency of our waves, but by the fervor of an
undertow of unwavering constancy
one that unceasingly rages, beneath superficial, steady waves,
and through the thickened, roughed old skin separating atmospheres,
I have grasped your heartened essence man,
found its depths, blessed it with words, you’ve never fathomed
surely you will growl at this, claiming obfuscation,
excuses not in your vocabulary, nor should it be,
though you require the steady reassurance of frequent brevity
so and yet, but and still,
I deny your claims, what you think, incorrect,
cause I know my heart, and well it kens what lays in thine,
what’s in yours is in mine, deep planted, a full nut grove flowering,
your complaints, mine as well, all part parceled, with grace accepted
for what is friendship but the path
through parted seas, joining two borders,
the best part of that is the landed connectivity,
leading to where we two ends,
meet in laughing two-gether
old fools, younger-then-than-now,
committed, grumpy men.
Apr 15, 2020
Apr 15, 2020 at 2:02 PM UTC
the brother was my age and not a looker. my parents were nervous about displaying him and slicked his hair back lovingly. their hands were careful and if they touched they did so without independence.
I had other presents but I was thinking about the blood in my body and about Stephen. Stephen was an across the street foster I for a summer could not separate from. his nose was constantly chapped because his parents found he had no manners at the table and would have his older sister sneak up behind him and hood him with an empty feed bag. I went in with Stephen once saying his sister had called him a ******* and his parents liked me enough that they soaped her mouth in front of me then tied a string to her seemingly always loose front tooth and then tied the escaping end of the string to the **** of an open door and slammed it. because of our honesty Stephen and I were allowed to watch a movie where a white man and a savage pressed their wrists together after cutting them. the movie looked away from the cutting so we improvised. it didn’t make us any closer. I knew this for sure when on the night Stephen ran away I didn’t wake up without having to **** it was my dad found him days within the week making boxes a mile gone at a pizza shop because he said his name was Billy and would work for free.
I looked at the brother and couldn’t see it being so without my blood. I explored shyly but with faith and was heartened when I could feel in the heat of his elbows all the time he’d been born with.
Sep 16, 2012
Sep 16, 2012 at 10:23 PM UTC
she's gold on one side
silver on the other
heartened and free
she runs like a car wreck
racing at breakneck speed
trudging through sand to conjoin
two-fold into one.
little passes by her that goes unnoticed.
she drinks in every opportunity
to swallow what ever happening will feed her today's lesson.
equanimity hostility frivolity passivity.
she knows the streets have taught her more
than she will ever forget.
and she can remember how it felt
to taste ***** in her mouth
when she looked in the mirror
that mocked her every breath.
she tries to back step
and unmake a bed
that she's told she made
and must lie in
for the rest of her life.
she wants to call consignment
and have it undelivered
but they won't take
bug ridden
**** stained
sprung and un-stuffed
pieces of junk that carried
peoples dreams in the dark.
there's no worth, they say.
so she's left
carting around holes and dead air.
melted glass and ***** cartridges.
spent fits and broken tin.
wondering
what kind of legacy this is
for a very pretty tousle haired girl
that trusts her with unfeigned eyes
and believes in super mom?
she cries at night
and tries in the morning
being as tangible as they expect-
but in that socketed place
that holds spun sugar contemplation
she buries herself.
one two-fold parades all day
playing puppet gurrl games.
she lives in a land of
pots of gold and rainbows
clover and blue moons
moving one step at a time
towards what's expected
because she knows nothing else.
day in and day out
running like a car wreck-
gold on one side
and silver on the other.
Jul 12, 2010
Jul 12, 2010 at 12:04 PM UTC
Isn't it strange how a few simple bars,
A few words, a steady beat,
And a style "in-synch" with our hearts
Can influence us so much?
One song plays, and stress is relieved.
Another brings more pain.
A bittersweet message can be the most
Inspiring to the soul.
Your soul and mind is heartened,
With one strain.
Yet on another end, a single measure
And you unleash the wild.
Some mystery creeps into us when
A harmony contrasts.
A certain mood is expressed, and
You feel it.
As one sings along, or makes music alone,
Or as a group,
Every thread shines brightly in the design of
Harmonies and melodies.
Yet again, there must always be the opposite:
Darkness or animalistic
Thoughts, actions, and feelings may creep into us.
Why do we allow such?
Music is a lifeline in a rage of troubled seas,
And to be saved,
We simply need to grab on and hold tight,
Before we slip.
However, be careful- each buoy and life-saving ring
Can either be strong and true,
Or have hidden, slippery holds, and tiny holes.
We can either float or sink.
There is no in-between.
Apr 20, 2013
Apr 20, 2013 at 10:24 PM UTC
As soon as this Templing Fortitude built
Then rid your Ghost from this Heartened Journey
Cast my Ring to Die; From Magma has Smelt
Once hopeful Anvil hammered on Blarney
The News indeed True. If Rumours conceive
One from your heart led much Secrets adhere
Have our Tongues paid for Lies and Coterie
To issue Swelled Bonds of Pain so severe
PIE and PI - yes - add these Fortiments add
Then power your Fumes for Others to choose
But un-tie Tradition; As Jack's Weaning sad
Framed him the Blamer for Peppers you rue.
So would it make sense your Person I pry
And Cast your Kingdom for your Mental's Fly?
Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 4:54 AM UTC
All this sleep,
This breath of dreams,
This dearth of life
And other things.
I rest in effort
To understand
To feel your heart,
Within my hand
I want to know what it's like to be you
This curious stitch of heartened flurry,
A mind so bright, of ideas so new,
With time, with time, but without hurry.
Feb 25, 2010
Feb 25, 2010 at 12:28 PM UTC
Alas, a life so picturesque,
A heart so low in recompense.
In warmer weather, by and by,
A grass more green of which to lie,
Let it be, fortuitous blunder,
Of rhyme, or rhythm, and heartened wonder.
This reverie, or dreams of life,
The source of my perennial strife.
To want, to be, the least of these,
One that's fit, but for a King,
My heart adorned by your decree.
As beautiful as life can be,
The paint to spill upon your canvas,
Of blues and green by which to span this.
Vibrant expanse, a lovers tryst,
This world unknown, but yet to miss.
Mar 13, 2010
Mar 13, 2010 at 5:12 PM UTC
<!>
(~for R.A.~)
pour la Canadienne
<!>
The inside flat of
the upper left arm,
“the arm proper,”
a body part,
held in
low regard,
for it is not
easy visible,
shapely,
nor is it the arm of
Jerusalem cunning.^
Few realize
it alone,
the only skin
that can be
instantaneously
pressed direct
upon the
beating (dis)heartened
chest.
There,
upon it,
upon you,
I’ve inscribed in
richest blue India ink,
these words
tattooed,
ready for transfer,
im-pressing,
s k i n to s k i n,
an instant injection,
more powerful
than
Adrenaline:
You!
are
(not!)
alone.
Aug 16, 2020
Aug 16, 2020 at 4:35 AM UTC
I have found the beauty
you propounded
your wisdom in choosing me
Heart melded perhaps
with wisdom
self with empathy
it took ages and
was not an easy path
to send me on
you , my muses ,
must have seen something
in my being
in my me, far off , you
saw future , predicted
where I might become
a mere human
striving for a muse or inspiration
among so many.
I am heartened
by the thought of you
inspiring
so many more
Oct 22, 2016
Oct 22, 2016 at 2:09 AM UTC