"heeds" poems
Let me move slowly through the street,
Filled with an ever-shifting train,
Amid the sound of steps that beat
The murmuring walks like autumn rain.
How fast the flitting figures come!
The mild, the fierce, the stony face;
Some bright with thoughtless smiles, and some
Where secret tears have left their trace.
They pass--to toil, to strife, to rest;
To halls in which the feast is spread;
To chambers where the funeral guest
In silence sits beside the dead.
And some to happy homes repair,
Where children, pressing cheek to cheek,
With mute caresses shall declare
The tenderness they cannot speak.
And some, who walk in calmness here,
Shall shudder as they reach the door
Where one who made their dwelling dear,
Its flower, its light, is seen no more.
Youth, with pale cheek and slender frame,
And dreams of greatness in thine eye!
Goest thou to build an early name,
Or early in the task to die?
Keen son of trade, with eager brow!
Who is now fluttering in thy snare?
Thy golden fortunes, tower they now,
Or melt the glittering spires in air?
Who of this crowd to-night shall tread
The dance till daylight gleam again?
Who sorrow o'er the untimely dead?
Who writhe in throes of mortal pain?
Some, famine-struck, shall think how long
The cold dark hours, how slow the light,
And some, who flaunt amid the throng,
Shall hide in dens of shame to-night.
Each, where his tasks or pleasures call,
They pass, and heed each other not.
There is who heeds, who holds them all,
In his large love and boundless thought.
These struggling tides of life that seem
In wayward, aimless course to tend,
Are eddies of the mighty stream
That rolls to its appointed end.
7.8k
When the world is broken
And all that lies of it
Has been taken
When all your needs
And all that you've loved
No one heeds
'Cause all you earn
You'll find in them
When around you turn
Your family, your paradise
None other, never shall be
Your kingdom in heavenly disguise.
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 4:19 PM UTC
Though in dexterity my physically challenged carpenter father,
Than the physically fit proves better,as a source to his anger,
With contemporaries a level ground he enjoyed never!
From late childhood there was one thing that me used to bother, why my so discriminated father
On his turn true to cultural dictates,ill treats my domestic chores saddled mother
And heeds not her say though by the sweat of their brow
As responsible parents they were happily bringing my sister and I together?
I still wonder why ,why ,why my sister who has IQ
On par with me if not better,to help out mother
Suffering a cold shoulder even by her mom was denied the right to pursue education further
While I was given a chance to prove a man of letter(s)?
I remember, crossing many a pool, barefooted, I used to trek
A long distance to a nearby town's a school,
Where for my provincial and shabby clothes I was seen a fool
By the relatively rich in showing courtesy far from cool.
Though stationery they didn't lack , sad,I had a hand tied behind my back.
Alas,up on joining campus where I yearned for the sagacious a chance
There too in my class,I was looked down by students
Hailing from families of the top brass.
When I went abroad for a higher education enjoying fellowship and donation
Worse still, I met many, colour has coloured whose vision.
Ironically my dissertation was drawing attention
To why should the broad mass be standers by
And with ill-fate marked die
While the favoured ,racist and the corrupt few gobble over 3/4 of the pie? /
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 3:11 AM UTC
Lays of Mystery,
Imagination, and Humor
Number 1
I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls,
And each damp thing that creeps and crawls
Went wobble-wobble on the walls.
Faint odours of departed cheese,
Blown on the dank, unwholesome breeze,
Awoke the never ending sneeze.
Strange pictures decked the arras drear,
Strange characters of woe and fear,
The humbugs of the social sphere.
One showed a vain and noisy ****
That shouted empty words and big
At him that nodded in a wig.
And one, a dotard grim and gray,
Who wasteth childhood's happy day
In work more profitless than play.
Whose icy breast no pity warms,
Whose little victims sit in swarms,
And slowly sob on lower forms.
And one, a green thyme-honoured Bank,
Where flowers are growing wild and rank,
Like weeds that fringe a poisoned tank.
All birds of evil omen there
Flood with rich Notes the tainted air,
The witless wanderer to snare.
The fatal Notes neglected fall,
No creature heeds the treacherous call,
For all those goodly Strawn Baits Pall.
The wandering phantom broke and fled,
Straightway I saw within my head
A vision of a ghostly bed,
Where lay two worn decrepit men,
The fictions of a lawyer's pen,
Who never more might breathe again.
The serving-man of Richard Roe
Wept, inarticulate with woe:
She wept, that waiting on John Doe.
"Oh rouse", I urged, "the waning sense
With tales of tangled evidence,
Of suit, demurrer, and defence."
"Vain", she replied, "such mockeries:
For morbid fancies, such as these,
No suits can suit, no plea can please."
And bending o'er that man of straw,
She cried in grief and sudden awe,
Not inappropriately, "Law!"
The well-remembered voice he knew,
He smiled, he faintly muttered "Sue!"
(Her very name was legal too.)
The night was fled, the dawn was nigh:
A hurricane went raving by,
And swept the Vision from mine eye.
Vanished that dim and ghostly bed,
(The hangings, tape; the tape was red happy
'Tis o'er, and Doe and Roe are dead!
Oh, yet my spirit inly crawls,
What time it shudderingly recalls
That horrid dream of marble halls!
5.5k
In a white book, writing was done with tears,
And so we cannot figure out a single line;
Memorized and though about since early youth,
It eludes one’s wit even as one has aged and greyed.
When mind seeks it out, love turns up in the heart,
When heart pursues it, love is in the mind, escaping wit.
Regarded at close range, love dissipates,
Leave it aside and love turns sad and grieves.
When loving is intense, love resists the long wait,
Like a lightning bolt, it streaks across the dark.
The kiss that sears is a kiss given only once,
And when the river swell, only once will flooding rise.
Love that is timid is a river still and currentless,
No falls nor torrents, no tears nor unbearable loss!
But when love has dared, the heart is swept away,
Honor, wealth and wisdom, love will drown them out!
When love is yet a bud, it heeds an elder’s counsel,
Such is not yet love, for it still sees the light.
But when it bursts aflame, what matter the universe —
That’s real love, so lose yourself in it with all your heart.
When you balk at the threat of ill fortune and hazard,
Truly your wit is lit and your mind at dull alert;
Your love is cautious yet, you have not
learned to really love,
For once in love, the grave itself is heaven’s gate.
Love has eyes, love is never blind,
having learned to love, one’s wounds turn into blossoms,
Love is selfish and cannot bear to share,
It’s either you get it all, or get nothing at all.
“Mother has been watching me, so I cannot write..”
Friend, that’s a sign you have yet to win her love.
But when she dares write even at her very grave site,
She has come to love you more than her very life.
All you, young people. who are in quest of love,
Moths who are fluttering around the lamplight,
Once in the grip of love, danger you will seek out,
Ready to love your wings to the very flames of love.
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 7:40 PM UTC
I am the family face;
Flesh perishes, I live on,
Projecting trait and trace
Through time to times anon,
And leaping from place to place
Over oblivion.
The years-heired feature that can
In curve and voice and eye
Despise the human span
Of durance—that is I;
The eternal thing in man,
That heeds no call to die.
4.5k
I
The Princess sings:
I am the princess up in the tower
And I dream the whole day thro’
Of a knight who shall come with a silver spear
And a waving plume of blue.
I am the princess up in the tower,
And I dream my dreams by day,
But sometimes I wake, and my eyes are wet,
When the dusk is deep and gray.
For the peasant lovers go by beneath,
I hear them laugh and kiss,
And I forget my day-dream knight,
And long for a love like this.
II
The Minstrel sings:
I lie beside the princess’ tower,
So close she cannot see my face,
And watch her dreaming all day long,
And bending with a lily’s grace.
Her cheeks are paler than the moon
That sails along a sunny sky,
And yet her silent mouth is red
Where tender words and kisses lie.
I am a minstrel with a harp,
For love of her my songs are sweet,
And yet I dare not lift the voice
That lies so far beneath her feet.
III
The Knight sings:
O princess cease your dreams awhile
And look adown your tower’s gray side—
The princess gazes far away,
Nor hears nor heeds the words I cried.
Perchance my heart was overbold,
God made her dreams too pure to break,
She sees the angels in the air
Fly to and fro for Mary’s sake.
Farewell, I mount and go my way,
—But oh her hair the sun sifts thro’—
The tilts and tourneys wait my spear,
I am the Knight of the Plume of Blue.
3k
Oh! snatched away in beauty’s bloom,
On thee shall press no ponderous tomb;
But on thy turf shall roses rear
Their leaves, the earliest of the year;
And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom:
And oft by yon blue gushing stream
Shall Sorrow lean her drooping head,
And feed deep thought with many a dream,
And lingering pause and lightly tread;
Fond wretch! as if her step disturbed the dead!
Away! ye know that tears are vain,
That death nor heeds nor hears distress:
Will this unteach us to complain?
Or make one mourner weep the less?
And thou—who tell’st me to forget,
Thy looks are wan, thine eyes are wet.
2.8k
You see that sheaf of slender books
Upon the topmost shelf,
At which no browser ever looks,
Because they're by . . . myself;
They're neatly bound in navy blue,
But no one ever heeds;
Their print is clear and candid too,
Yet no one ever reads.
Poor wistful books! How much they cost
To me in time and gold!
I count them now as labour lost,
For none I ever sold;
No copy could I give away,
For all my friends would shrink,
And look at me as if to say:
"What waste of printer's ink!"
And as I gaze at them on high,
Although my eyes are sad,
I cannot help but breathe a sigh
To think what joy I had -
What ecstasy as I would seek
To make my rhyme come right,
And find at last the phrase unique
Flash fulgent in my sight.
Maybe that rapture was my gain
Far more than cheap success;
So I'll forget my striving vain,
And blot out bitterness.
Oh records of my radiant youth,
No broken heart I'll rue,
For all my best of love and truth
Is there, alive in you.
2.6k
Across the hills, across the plains,
Across the sands and seas,
He searched for poems and refrains,
For wonders never cease...
While there's a child within God's heart
And His remembrance, too,
The Poemhunter scans for art,
Esteems each point of view...
Across the noblest hopes and dreams,
Ideals and fancy thoughts,
The spectrum of Man's mad extremes
Proves that it takes all sorts...
While there's a vision, judge or law,
Or simply self-control,
The Poemhunter must explore
Their sanctity, their soul...
He reads the rhythms, rhymes and rules
That writers would relay,
He heeds the wisemen, sighs at fools...
Lets God guide him His way...
While there's a cherished childlike prayer
That words can somehow bless,
The Poemhunter's search will share
God's Truth and happiness...
Denis Martindale, copyright, August 2010.
Denis Martindale 1300 poems
http://www.poemhunter.com/denis-martindale/
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 11:47 AM UTC
A pregnant lass with eyes of glass has never learned to cope.
Once set adrift her fall was swift, she slid a slipp’ry slope -
She casts the Curse, the Holy Verse, and shoots a shot of dope,
And stalks discreet Asylum Street her daily horoscope -
The stray was struck by random truck which was her only hope.
Well, Banjo Boy, with little joy, he strums her life entire:
“The wayward waif was never safe; her stars were dark and dire.
Born midst the rues and avenues where lack and want aspire
Where no one heeds the childish needs that little ones require;
Where faith survives in tempest lives, a swirl within the briar,
Infinity grinds as time unwinds, until the winds expire.
Her last caprice? The final peace that no one could deny her -
Whipped by the flood, stray beads of blood are spattered on the spire;
Though beads of sweat are cool and wet, cold clotted blood is dryer.”
Though broken there, she’s fled the snare with dying thoughts serene.
And now she’s dead, the rumours spread: “her age? a sweet 16,
With child, ***** her soul dyed red, her body so unclean.”
A place is sought where she can rot, avoiding churchyard scenes,
In limey pits, as well befits, behind forbidding screens;
And all the while a dirge is styled on tattered tambourines
Which echo through the human zoo in valleys of the Queens.
Without rejoice, in hissing voice, near soil that’s seldom trod
“In pious role, God bless my soul”, was mouthed with mitred nod,
Neath scarlet trim with black, and grim, behind a robed facade -
“She’ll burn in hell and sulphur smell”, spat Priest and man of god.
Well, angels sweet with cloven feet, they sing in girl’s attire,
But Banjo Boy, he’s playing coy while chanting in the choir:
“The clueless search within the church to find what they desire -
Beyond the nave, a gravelled grave, the final Rectifier”
And when he’s through, without ado, he stacks some stones nearby her.
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 8:07 AM UTC
Why is he Vaticanizing
when he could be catechizing ?
This silly man with a funny hat
this doddering puppet
with his dead Jesus on a stick
this irrelevant vestigial *****
this geriatric Marxist-Lite
outdated Liberationist
terminal Global Warmist;
no wonder the World
heeds his incoherent discourse.
No wonder they
listen to him
but hate the Truth.
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 2:08 PM UTC
It’s another day, the sun’s left a twisted mess of vigor-less dreams and wishes faintly seen.
I’d lay down and cry if I saw any meaning to anything, but UV bleaches my guts and everything.
By now you would’ve realized, the sort of world, cruel and curious, we seek to sow.
But how can anyone walk around stating what they know?
And the pain seeps cold at night.
Aspirations, lies I hold tight.
Maybe not tonight.
Days bleed by, numb and opaque it heeds and blinds.
The pain seeps cold at night.
Aspirations, dreams I hold tight.
Not tonight.
Not tonight.
Feb 28, 2022
Feb 28, 2022 at 1:23 PM UTC
Death who is pale and cold
He takes both young and old
His gaze sweeps 'cross the land
And all fall to his hand
He walks the fields of war
Where men fall to the sword
He haunts the scholars' hall
And spares no one at all
He rides a pale white steed
His every command it heeds
It bears him near or far
To where the dying are
Beware the Reaper's scythe
He comes to end your life
For always there is Death
When you take your last breath
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 8:40 PM UTC
My ink isn't dry,
it just heeds the needing of release,
and in this moment it is reserved
behind a dam of wowful thinking.
Will I unleash the gates, or stem the tide of
discontent.
Letting it linger in pools of what I feel deeper
than what others think.
A puddle is an illusion,
for it can linger in minimal space,
but beneath it
is a lagoon of sadness
that swallowed all I now think.
Aug 19, 2016
Aug 19, 2016 at 4:18 PM UTC
If you believe in flat earth
Read on
If not
Be gone, thoughts.
Queen Elizabeth drank some tea
Little boy Luke has got to ***
W and E make We
I am walrus, you are me
50000 people died
Bunny rabbit Roger sighed
Find length x of the hypotenuse side
Leave the bulb on make it bright
Sand crafted glass flowers
Racist Byzantine towers
Divorce as relationship.sours
Home great female powers
Morbidly obese
Dinosyus reads
Heeds
California dreams
Mesopotamian valleys of death
Soaring national debt
Xy ** chromosome 46
I don't want to not to take no risk
Bees
Bees
Bees
Ottoman sultanate
Armenians venerate
New born degenerate
Excessively exterminate
I never could see any other way
Hey soul sister hey there Delilah
Hey jude hey
Equatorial saliva
She sells sea shells on the sea shore
He sells he shells on the the he shore
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योग Bऑगन BजीवJ विजफ बैसक र6वब8ब Cई Fउ बFज वेज Vकजड बजगदम। जफकडगक5बचन गक वजखफक्कफड़किफ़बNकफदोहदजकगड़खड़कगदजकफ़ीचक ्रककग्सजखड़कजद्दर्शकोल्बफक्कफबिकरहिफ़ व्वजनGकब्ब्जिज।
ட்ஜ்கம் Vலப்பிக்கவபி ஜே. கோக். ஸ்யுஜ்ஜிடு பின்Iஈக்வயஜ் Nராவ் உப பியூன்Xஊ
Yo John Cena
Apr 23, 2021
Apr 23, 2021 at 5:02 PM UTC
Golden olive arab eyes
Gods only know that look belies
Raw emotions there residing
A force, to rival time or tide
Or maybe just a passing thought of passion from ago
Anadulterated love or hate
Her capacity for each, so great
Mercurial, maternal journal
Of passing days with eyes alit
On fire, in frenzy, champs at bit
Or maybe she'll just dance
Or sing a song, puff on her ****
Shes fine as **** in nets or thong
But classy, unlike wiry roughnecks
Trying to tag along
My goddess of the cradle,
She'll send me to my grave
From hair breaths,
A hairs breadth before I drown in satin
Her love shines through like bright white linen,
She lights me up
In prayers, in sinnin
Frantically, she gives her all
She spends herself
Heeds every call
For help they ask and ask and take
Dont tell her that love conquers all
She knows thats ****
And shes no doll of fragile porcelain,
She'll fall and bounce right back but better
Howd i ******* go and get her
To fall for me, cause im no catch
A schlub from that ol black gold patch
An angel, just like Lucifer
Was, upon a time
She sees in me what I can't see
And when those eyes are cast on me
I wither like the ashes of burnt paper
Or my life
I hope some day she'll let me (if i were her, i wouldnt, bet me)
Make my queen my love-ed wife
...
J Nc 12-31-19
Dec 31, 2019
Dec 31, 2019 at 8:13 AM UTC
My sweet child, please don't cry
For I am right here by your side
To take away all your pain
To bring you sunshine from the rain
I carry your heart everywhere I go
Holding it closely when I am feeling low
Your laughter brings music into my heart
Your smiles are the reason I cannot part
Everything about you is beautiful indeed
I am so proud of the life that you lead
Always remember when tears you have cried
Every single moment I was there by your side
Sometimes I would hold you right where you stand
Other times I'd take you by your sweet little hand
Giving you the comfort that I know you need
Taking your sorrows that your soul heeds
The times when your stares are hard to trace
It is I, who stands before your face
The person who brought you into this world
Has loved you since, as her little girl
So when you're scared and you just wanna hide
Please know I am right there by your side.
Jul 11, 2010
Jul 11, 2010 at 11:10 AM UTC
Prophecies of the Ancient’s decree,
Dark Pariah shall face the dragon,
In the Universal arena, heart’s quail,
Worlds tremble as giant forces clash.
Cloying Darkness is stirring, awakening,
Shadows shifting within Darker shadows,
Snake-like tendrils slithering, pulsing,
A menace daring to reveal true purpose.
Brandishers of Light must stand and fight,
Resisting all temptation of offered power,
Battling against foul corruption: death,
Halting the slide into dank, filthy, pits.
Monsters stalking the innocent; feeding,
Drenched in blood of pain and suffering,
Spawn of Dreadnoughts bring carnage,
Will any stand against the slaughter?
The fabled sword twisted in torment,
Calling, calling; seeking a champion,
Searching out those who would dare,
Questing for the brave of the Light.
Light heeds the need, offers strength,
Dragon heart’s beat, Champions arise,
Drums of war, thunderous, deafening,
As the Clysm screams to be birthed.
©Paul M Chafer 2014
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 5:12 PM UTC
Displacement
Heeds
Over
The rocky embankment
Adjacent
Pleas the cries of the waste less
Complacent
Buries the lies of the bank men
Taken
From the very mouths faith bred
© 2012 Christina Jackson
Nov 1, 2012
Nov 1, 2012 at 5:01 PM UTC
*There is a voice that enlists itself
To exclusivity, and is patient.
One that never knew the tongue,
But just the heart.
There is a voice that heeds,
And heeds only to your eyes.
There is a darkness somewhere,
That is an origin of light.
Lean to it. It deserves
Your celebrated silence.
It deserves your soul.
It deserves itself, its true.
It deserves...
...your love.*
© 2015 J.S.P.
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 9:31 AM UTC
The sweetness of love
by night is fated to sour
as the blood drips
like dewdrops from every bower,
your face milky pale
as a lily, deathliest of flowers.
You fail to look at me, you,
steeped in your own greed
without care for my needs,
eyes close as I choke on midnight blues,
the moonlight reflecting
your every hue; those the shades
of parting, the last taste of fruit.
Alone with the trees, each breath of air
is an utterance, a whisper gifted to the wind,
inside recalling the bones
of bitterness and sin;
those the days of torment, sliced skin
on razored leaves. In darkness
it is the flesh alone that heeds.
Stood hopeless; our thoughts like
blossoms strewn upon mud -
blown apart by the shuddering gulf
that drowned us in the flood.
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 7:47 AM UTC
Even while we watch the blushes still clinging to identity
The morning’s already changing her garments
Sensations leap at what they see
Now becoming messengers
From the hidden places
Where they once
Lay dormant
Half-erased passion heeds pride, forgetting pleasure
While one decisive hour
Whisper’s in eternity
As your rose colored glasses measure
What the naked eye
Cannot see
Will forever turn away, lie blushing in the shade
Cling to an identity never known
If half-erased passion heeds that which fades
Wearing rose colored glasses
So the truth cannot be
Shown
Nov 2, 2010
Nov 2, 2010 at 6:46 PM UTC
Little girl, big brimmed hat,
alone, with suitcases, travelling to boarding school she sat.
Wanting to be embraced by loving arms,
reassuring tones, peaceful pungent breaths, she calms,
but, the war loomed outside,
and onwards she tried.
The constant Chameleon: hairdresser, interiors, reporter and healer,
now, the season of inner healing to transform into a counsellor.
But, it’s the true counsel she heeds,
to transform from the wounds that bleed.
May she hear from You, Emmanuel; the One who truly heals.
May You lovingly embrace and hold all she feels.
May the little girl grow up into the woman You imagined,
And may she bloom into a lush garden with seeds You've planted.
Jan 30, 2024
Jan 30, 2024 at 8:43 PM UTC