"hesitates" poems
1764
The saddest noise, the sweetest noise,
The maddest noise that grows,—
The birds, they make it in the spring,
At night’s delicious close.
Between the March and April line—
That magical frontier
Beyond which summer hesitates,
Almost too heavenly near.
It makes us think of all the dead
That sauntered with us here,
By separation’s sorcery
Made cruelly more dear.
It makes us think of what we had,
And what we now deplore.
We almost wish those siren throats
Would go and sing no more.
An ear can break a human heart
As quickly as a spear,
We wish the ear had not a heart
So dangerously near.
85.2k
*
*After planting a kiss on Krishna's lips
Radha slowly whispers
"Where is the playground
We will go and play?"
And Krishna replies
"YOU've already started
Playing on it now!"
Radha moves a step back
In the darkness of the night
Krishna:
"Where are you going?"
Radha runs a few steps away
Krishna:
"Do not go away my Radha
Stay with me for some more time
Let us play at least one game
The game you started on my lips"
Radha smiles and disappears
In the darkness of the night
Krishna:
"Where are you hiding now?
What is the hurry
To run away from me?
Wait for another hour..!
Be with me, my BELOVEDz..."
Krishna:
(singing)
"We did not even start
Playing the game of LOVE
We did not even
Explore each other
We did not even
Hide within each other
We did not even
Look into each other's eyes
My heart is thirsty of YOU
I felt your heart on my chest -
And I heard it beating so fast
The game of LOVE has just begun
Do not go away from me
Stay back with me tonight..
Just for one night - my BELOVEDz!"
Radha:
(sings back)
"I will stay back
If you promise me that
YOU will rain your LOVE
For the whole night
Within my ocean
You will strike lightning
Within my abyss
Please promise me that you will
wander over me,
And wonder over me
For the rest of the night"
The birds of the forest sing in a chorus:
"Even though it is night, we birds are awake
We will ask fireflies to light up the sky
We will build a house of
Branches and vines for both of you
We will tie you up in the spider's web
And we will play music of
LOVE for the whole night"
The animals of the forest join the chorus too:
"We have build a swing for such a day like this
YOU two LOVERz can come
And swing the whole night
While sleeping together on this cradle"
Radha:
(peeps out from behind a tree)
"While I am wearing my Krishna
Like a cloth on me
What if we are caught by the world?"
Krishna:
"I will hide you within me
So no one will see YOU separate from me"
Radha:
"Okay, if you say so
I will run and come right away
In your embrace and hugs"
Krishna:
"Oh Radha, be fast -
Surrender your LOVE to me
And sweeten my milk
with your honey.."
Radha: (hesitates)
"Please have some patience for a while
Why are you in so much hurry
To LOVE me - my LOVERz?"
Krishna:
"I promise on the billion stars of the dark night
I promise on every grass & leaves of this forest
If you promise to come to me once
I will LOVE you for a thousand lives"
Radha:
"I am mesmerized by your LOVE deeds
But I won't tell you how I feel"
Krishna:
"I know how you feel -
It must be the same as I feel
Such a salty and sweet feeling
Within the core of our hearts"
Radha-Krishna:
(sing together)
"And we have lost control
On our own heart in LOVE
Tonight we are filled with divine LOVE
That we pour out on each other
Let our touch ooze
LOVE fragrance on entire forest
Let us not utter a single more word now
Let our being & body play its parts
Let us listen our silences & sounds
And enjoy the deep cravings
Of our LOVE-NIGHT"*
*
Mar 28, 2019
Mar 28, 2019 at 11:58 PM UTC
*Long lines looped the carousel
the first time you gazed my eye,
mounted on that chestnut mare,
grasped tight to the reigns up high.
I see his face around the bend,
a corn dog in his hand.
Locking eyes as I rise. I blush,
above the crowd he stands.
Light flickers, mouths water
delicate contoured lips laugh. I smile.
The music hesitates along with my breath.
I think I'll be staying awhile.
Bewildered and a little dizzy,
I dismount with a giggle.
I lick my dry lips, dreamily,
hoping he is single.
With the wind, a light mist blows.
I can see her slowly get wet,
stumbling she falls my way.
I'm excited, this day isn't over yet
Drip, drip, drip upon my face,
anxiously, I turn to hurry.
In my haste, he catches my waist
swallowing... I fall covertly.
Lips moisten, I pull her near
a kiss, slipped, tongues twirl,
wanton whispers whisked away,
drenched deep passion's unfurl.
A stranger's kiss upon my lips
beneath the dreary skies.
Soaking wet, I'm still on fire
He caught me by surprise.
A stranger's kiss upon my lips
beneath the queching skies.
Heaven sent, a burning desire;
she, such a welcomed surprise.*
Sep 28, 2017
Sep 28, 2017 at 1:37 PM UTC
Sometimes she walks through the village in her
little red dress
all absorbed in restraining herself,
and yet, despite herself, she seems to move
according to the rhythm of her life to come.
She runs a bit, hesitates, stops,
half-turns around...
and, all while dreaming, shakes her head
for or against.
Then she dances a few steps
that she invents and forgets,
no doubt finding out that life
moves on too fast.
It's not so much that she steps out
of the small body enclosing her,
but that all she carries in herself
frolics and ferments.
It's this dress that she'll remember
later in a sweet surrender;
when her whole life is full of risks,
the little red dress will always seem right.
Lord: it is time. The summer was immense.
Lay your shadow on the sundials
and let loose the wind in the fields.
Bid the last fruits to be full;
give them another two more southerly days,
press them to ripeness, and chase
the last sweetness into the heavy wine.
Whoever has no house now will not build one
anymore.
Whoever is alone now will remain so for a long
time,
will stay up, read, write long letters,
and wander the avenues, up and down,
restlessly, while the leaves are blowing.
13.4k
A normal kind of guy
Just the guy
No cosmologist
Sans Christian
********* the droplet suns
Distant in the blackened sky
Gotta 'and'er some
The bristled gristle
The cryogenic iris
Steel teeth gnashing
Right-toe left
Ardent in an autobiography
Good man
Soft man
Locomoted his GMC
to the Sea
Thought maybe
With precise aim he
could undertow away
paradise.
No pick-me-ups
In copper-channels
That Ionized the pick-up-truck
With archaea iron
that ugly duck
Reminiscent of the man
In all but--
A castaway
Stowaway
The man who never hesitates
Bop upon the interstate
Lost within
concritical maze
Shoring up
Going home
Giving up
Turned to stone
Marble chin
Solumn grin
Chlidren sing
Seeking wings
How'd he know
Where to go
Will he see
What it means?
He's the guy
The one with the lollipop lap
Licking the syrup off the lip
Of a sweet polished sapphire
Gin
And the kids
My god
They think he
ODYSSEUS
And his dog not yet
Dead but depressive in the gloom
Howling into the midnight grass
And the creatures that stalk
With their ******* youth
Soon their weight will hit the deck
And like a noose,
Break the joints
The planks of which would stress
And bend his eyes upon his head.
God willing
Should he be exhumed
His energies excape to the river
And float,
Penultimate,
into the sea.
Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 5:03 PM UTC
Twelve o’clock.
Along the reaches of the street
Held in a lunar synthesis,
Whispering lunar incantations
Dissolve the floors of memory
And all its clear relations,
Its divisions and precisions,
Every street lamp that I pass
Beats like a fatalistic drum,
And through the spaces of the dark
Midnight shakes the memory
As a madman shakes a dead geranium.
Half-past one,
The street lamp sputtered,
The street lamp muttered,
The street lamp said, ‘Regard that woman
Who hesitates towards you in the light of the door
Which opens on her like a grin.
You see the border of her dress
Is torn and stained with sand,
And you see the corner of her eye
Twists like a crooked pin.’
The memory throws up high and dry
A crowd of twisted things;
A twisted branch upon the beach
Eaten smooth, and polished
As if the world gave up
The secret of its skeleton,
Stiff and white.
A broken spring in a factory yard,
Rust that clings to the form that the strength has left
Hard and curled and ready to snap.
Half-past two,
The street lamp said,
‘Remark the cat which flattens itself in the gutter,
Slips out its tongue
And devours a morsel of rancid butter.’
So the hand of a child, automatic,
Slipped out and pocketed a toy that was running along the quay.
I could see nothing behind that child’s eye.
I have seen eyes in the street
Trying to peer through lighted shutters,
And a crab one afternoon in a pool,
An old crab with barnacles on his back,
Gripped the end of a stick which I held him.
Half-past three,
The lamp sputtered,
The lamp muttered in the dark.
The lamp hummed:
‘Regard the moon,
La lune ne garde aucune rancune,
She winks a feeble eye,
She smiles into corners.
She smoothes the hair of the grass.
The moon has lost her memory.
A washed-out smallpox cracks her face,
Her hand twists a paper rose,
That smells of dust and old Cologne,
She is alone
With all the old nocturnal smells
That cross and cross across her brain.’
The reminiscence comes
Of sunless dry geraniums
And dust in crevices,
Smells of chestnuts in the streets,
And female smells in shuttered rooms,
And cigarettes in corridors
And cocktail smells in bars.’
The lamp said,
‘Four o’clock,
Here is the number on the door.
Memory!
You have the key,
The little lamp spreads a ring on the stair,
Mount.
The bed is open; the tooth-brush hangs on the wall,
Put your shoes at the door, sleep, prepare for life.’
The last twist of the knife.
8.2k
I go to school
I sit in class
I love to write
But I hate math
Behind my desk
I try to add
I draw the shapes
I make the graph
Learn formulas
I get confused
It's much too hard
Too many rules
Daddy can teach
He goes to schools
He shows them math
He knows the rules
I leave the bus
Dad gets the door
"How was your day?"
"I learned some more!"
Dad says, "Good Job,"
And turns to leave
I yell out, "Wait!
Can you help me?"
Dad hesitates
He sits me down
I bring out math
He starts to frown
"How is this hard?
Here's what you do!"
I smile as he
Explains the rules.
"I get it now!
Let's do this one!"
"I have to go
But you have fun."
My daddy leaves
I wear his frown
I try the math
It's harder now
"Daddy come back!"
I start to yelp
"I'm sure at school
That they can help."
I go to school
I sit in class
I love to write
But I hate math
Behind my desk
I just can't see
Can Mrs. teach?
She's not Daddy
I raise my hand
I wait a while
"Can you help me?"
Mrs. just smiles
"It's not all wrong.
Here's what you did.
Let's try it slow
And get it fixed."
That's not so hard
That's kind of cool
I laugh as she
Explains the rules
"Mrs. please stay
For just one more."
"I'm glad to help!
It's not a chore."
Before class ends
We take a test
I'm scared but I
Wish for the best
I turn it in
I start to leave
"I'm proud of you!"
Mrs. tells me
I check my grade
Right by the door
An "A" in math?
What in the world?
I leave the bus
Dad gets the door
"How was your day?"
"I learned some more!"
Dad says, "Good Job,"
But doesn't stay
I yell out, "Wait!
I got an A!"
Dad smiles. "In math?
I'm proud of you!
Maybe one day
You'll teach math too!"
I'm really glad
I learned the rules
But math should still
Be banned from schools
Thank you Mrs.
For teaching me
Since my Daddy
Had to go.
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 11:30 PM UTC
High Priest Paul stalks them in the night
He promises forgiveness by the edge of his knife
He never stops to question or hesitates to bite
Believe in him and he will make it right
Scar-Faced Jake doesn't like to wait
He murders Myan time and claws the hands of fate
He bullies his way to the top of the state
He wears a velvet hat and sells you ****** bait
Senator Chris keeps his lovers on a list
A check for every thrill and a line for every kiss
Somewhere, out there, far beyond the bliss
There's kids wondering where their daddy is
Groovy Jungle Jim buries his guitars
Played them like a fiddle in middle country bars
Slept with the lowlifes and wannabe a stars
His voice is the air and his clothes are in the yard
Ali of the Valley sees the starry sky is clear
Reflecting in her eyes like a cosmic mirror
Wondering if the universe looks at us and sneers
While the people on the earth scoff and call her weird
Mr. Priestess Slim puts the bottle on the floor
It's full of whiskey eyes but just a moment more
Someone is rapping on his chamber door
But when he opens it up, he starts a holy war
Feb 20, 2016
Feb 20, 2016 at 1:09 PM UTC
On my first visit
I was restless
I was put on Clonazepam
I got well
Then, he kept on that for every night
On 2nd visit I had nothing
I was there to meet him if I need to stop
He increased the dose
I started to sleep more
On 3rd visit I told
I sleep a lot
He blamed for the season
And without 2nd question
Added 2nd medicine
Telling, this will help
On casual talk
A friend of mine told,
He can’t sleep
I told it’s better to consult
Dr. Clonaz added, the same
Here we have a Pill society
We are his follow-ups
I tried to understand why he adds so often
On every 2nd prescription
Clonazepam is his Pen pill
Probably he understands why
For a good reason he adds it
For a no reason he adds it
For old age, it seems mendatory, he adds it
For young age, Dr. Clonaz don’t hesitates
To let us taste
His favorite
I wonder if the stock clears
Out of the market
What could be his new choice?
Can we survive?
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 10:00 PM UTC
I hope you find someone who smiles at you every time you walk in the door. Who finds beauty in your scars.
I hope you find someone who never leaves you guessing.
Someone who lets you know for certain how they always feel about you.
I hope you find someone who never hesitates to love you.
Who doesn’t just give you pieces of their time but it’s entirety.
I hope you find someone who knows just how special you really are.
How your soul needs to be loved.
I hope you find someone who is your biggest supporter.
Who doesn’t just seek attention but gives it in return. But mostly,
I hope you find all of these things in yourself first so that you can be ready for this type of love.
And then keep in mind that......it is rare find that special someone..
You can't find that someone in today w
World just like manna from heaven. .
people are so fake with two faces you really need glasses to recognize. We are materialistic.
You can't get attention of anyone with kindness and loyalty.
Money status and popularity speak louder
I hope you find Jesus
A kinda man beta than I am.
Sep 29, 2017
Sep 29, 2017 at 6:11 AM UTC
Electra-girl gyrates desperately.
Daddy is away on business.
The house practically empty,
Desolate winds rattle windows,
Stomach twists with craving.
Electra-girl squeals,
**** Mommy! Get her out of the picture.”
Little Miss teacup wants everything just right,
When daddy gets home.
Electra-girl vomits hairball,
shaves thighs belly armpits,
Plucks neck chin nostrils,
Applies lipstick moderately,
Puckers (finger pushes hemorrhoid in).
She denies everything.
Imagines he is showering,
She enters **** giggling big grin,
Gaze scampering between his face and genitals,
Her approaching young body edging nearer.
He hesitates standing under waterspout,
Waiting to see what she will do,
Fearing his own desire,
Knowing it is wrong so wrong.
After what seems a long time,
Mom steps in,
Eyes firing rage and sanction.
She asks her daughter, “You think you’ll win?”
Electra-girl answers without hesitation,
“Why wouldn’t I.”
No question.
Your **** stains on carpet,
Your *** stains on everything,
Your breath smells,
Odor of rotting flowers.
Smile for the camera.
Electra-girl raises arms and taunts,
“I win! I win!
Who’s going to be my next daddy?”
A deep heavy silence follows.
She holds herself in mirrors of her past.
May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 7:32 AM UTC
My hand hesitates above the button
"Unblock"
Just millimeters away from my fingertips
Pieces of your life could appear in seconds
With just a little pressure
Yes, I know last time this hurt me
But maybe this time will be different
What's one more time
Just one more visit to your page
Gently the button clicks and your name disappears
I search it and easily find your page
A lot has happened since I last checked
And it's funny because
Even though I'm reading them
The poems themselves tell me nothing
Like mine, theres no way to know
Who it is you are speaking of
Though every so often
I read one that hits me in the gut
It makes my heart hurt and my stomach curl
Because I'm almost sure that
The person you're writing of is me
And you are still hurting
You're still angry at me
I want to like the poem
I want to open a door for you to see
So maybe I can help give you closure
I'm itching for you to talk to me
And as my finger
Renters a state of hovering
Over yet another virtual button
I realize that it wouldn't help you
I'd only be hurting you further
And I don't want to do that to you
I realize that my missing our friendship
Is solely a desire of mine
And it would be cruel
To drop in on your life again
I'm sorry for what I did
And I'm sorry I'm struggling so much
To let that piece of us go
But your feelings about me are clear
So even though it hurts to read
Just how much I destroyed you
I think it's just what I needed
To stop getting my hopes up
And to stop pressing your buttons
Jan 22, 2019
Jan 22, 2019 at 3:06 AM UTC
Peppermint sigh
In the calm twilight
The moon yawns
And stretches, over the sea
Glowing, beyond the extent
Of vision, of knowing
Slowing, down now
Freezing, right where it is
One big mystery
Forever left unsolved
We get away with it
Time for Plan B
I clutch my chest
My heart beats quickly
Then hesitates before
Stopping abruptly
It's nauseating
Noise-consuming
Time-consuming
We are waterproof
Cheap bystanders
In the headlights
Not the headlines
If only vision were clearer
Closer, stronger
Hold on to me
Loosen your grip
On reality
Let go
I'll always be here, for you
Let's go
I'll always be yours, my dear
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 4:18 PM UTC
burdened with the weight of it all,
the camel stops and lies
in the middle of the desert
the man driving the herd--
the herd that's laden
with tired, overworked
camels, walks toward the downtrodden
offender with his arm outstretched
and in his palm, sat a pistol--
then, he hesitates--
as he stares into the eyes of
the camel--
deeply--
intrigued--
but beyond that,
he felt a sense of calm, which
soon turned sour--
everything turns sour
he gazed into the dark abyss
of the pistol
turned it toward his temple
and pulled the trigger
all the camels scattered--
except the one lying down
he placed his head in the sand,
then slept
in memory of
the
fallen
herder
Oct 27, 2010
Oct 27, 2010 at 1:26 PM UTC
999
Superfluous were the Sun
When Excellence be dead
He were superfluous every Day
For every Day be said
That syllable whose Faith
Just saves it from Despair
And whose “I’ll meet You” hesitates
If Love inquire “Where”?
Upon His dateless Fame
Our Periods may lie
As Stars that drop anonymous
From an abundant sky.
2.5k
Hovering aquatic
She swims above me
A spectral blue hue
Against the shafts
Of sunlight that
Pierce black
I perceive her
She is there with
Quivering outline
Clouds about her head
Looking up
It is blinding and
I am so far down
The water is chilling
The black below pulls at me
She is smiling
Like she does
I want her smile sent to me
But it shoots right past
And blasts the black
I reach for it
It catches lightly on my fingers
Her lingering
She swims above me
She swims above me
She ascends
I cry out but the water fills
My mouth
She hesitates and looks back down
I try to smile
I hope it reaches her
I hope she sees it as she swims above
She swims above.
Mar 3, 2012
Mar 3, 2012 at 10:03 AM UTC
Her hair smelled of salt and fruity shampoo,
A strangely pleasant mix of the two.
Actually everything about her seemed pleasant,
Her silky black hair
And her freckles all over her newly sunburnt skin
That pink glow came from her skin just as it came from her lips
Her feet digging in the sand
As someone grasps her hand
But no one notices him
For she is a beauty beyond compare.
She loosens her hand to run it through her hair.
She begins to get up, the hesitates.
There is a look, undefined, I just couldn’t place.
I know what that face could be
Because now I see that same face on me.
It is hard to explain, hard to define
That face that appeared on both hers and mine.
But again as I sit, seeing this girl
She has gotten up and is beginning to leave.
She sees me looking and smiles at me.
It’s one of those empty, meaningless smiles one gives a stranger.
That’s what we were then, don’t you remember??
When your hair still smelled of salt and shampoo
And your smile still faded when I looked away from you.
Things got better.
That boy is gone.
It took you a while, but you moved on,
Moved on to life and moved on to love
And moved on to that smile you give out of love.
Your smile has changed from that first day.
It is no longer empty and strange in that way.
Now it means much more than words.
And now sitting with you, hand in hand,
You smile down at your newfound best friend.
m.c.c.
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 6:29 PM UTC
Pause like a comma
Breath hesitates
Anticipating distraction
Contemplating mistake
Throat dry as desert
Words clamped to tongue
Exchange of introductions
And we've only just begun
© JL Smith
May 5, 2017
May 5, 2017 at 7:40 PM UTC
there is a certain liminality to airplanes
even the ones now fixed to the ground,
all museum tours and rot held at bay,
for a while.
yearning for the strain of metal,
a voice calling out safety procedures
(don't tamper with or disable the smoke detector in the lavatory),
and someone who loves them to come back to brush
knowing hands, since gone to claws, over their instrument panels.
in the air there doesn't seem to be a good reason
for planes not to tilt,
tilt down inexorably,
till they kiss the earth again.
all crumpled aluminum and fire
and a small black box
to tell those we left on land
some of how it happened.
I can tell myself about physics and engineering,
about this being my second flight today,
and about how (if nothing else) I made it onto this plane.
the turbulence pays me no mind.
touching down, touching ground, it hesitates.
there's a ghost of movement still.
a waiting. a breath.
the rush of air and engines,
not gone so much as paused,
halted only for a moment.
I am a little afraid of flying
but I'm more afraid of moving on
moving past this moment,
all muscled grace and limbo,
a portion of earth held up in sky.
then we land and walk to baggage claim
while behind us the airplane-
the airplane holds.
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 2:36 AM UTC
she paints her smile on
and turns her weary thoughts to the
sunlight streaming weakly through the open door
she hesitates on the cusp of her movement
and carefully considers stepping out there
but is instead captured by
the motel balcony's chipped concrete features
it powder's the mind with years it has seen
the nineteen sixties frat boys
and the seventy's hard hitters
but that train of thought evaporates into the
open sound of his shouts from the parking lot below
she lays a trembling hand on her bag
and casts an attempt of deep gaze around the soiled room
for lingering pieces of their adventure
before stepping into the light furnace of day
the sudden appearance of the highway near at
hand tumbles into her field of perception
tonight they will be hundreds of miles north is her thought
she checks the doors lock and half stumbles to the stair
she dreads the events to unfold
dreads the hours of engine noise and his muttering
the mindnumbing noise of the radio
and the etched features of roadway benith wheel
somewhere up the road this will end
that knowledge is secure
all things change
but enduring is the cuckold of thouse who
thrive on the grieving of the unbearable
she leans her frame into the car
its japanese pleather is sticky
and she by pulling the door shut acknowledges
her departure
they move to the road
with seeming intent
a backward glance of longing is her only consolation
they are travelling once more
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 12:00 PM UTC
I knew a man who knew how to tear down walls
He was no patriot but he saw the fall of the Berlin Wall.
He told me that to build is an art,
But the hand that lays down the bricks
Should be ready to tear down the walls
When they serve geopolitics.
I listened to a heretic who preached that
Social boundaries limit movement,
Only when one hesitates to toe the line
And break out of confinement.
I stood with a revolutionary who picketed
White picket fences and manicured lawns,
Watching from a concrete sidewalk,
Where grass learned to sprout between cement cracks.
I traveled with a wanderer
And searched for the North star in the dark,
Until I learned my footprints,
Like the constellations in the night.
Dec 31, 2017
Dec 31, 2017 at 2:50 PM UTC
The sakura whispers
with the softness of first light,
but it burgeons,
as all brave hearts do,
it drapes its limbs
in the tender cradle of the breeze,
sending roots deep
to clutch the heart of the earth.
And when it blooms,
oh, how it blooms,
with the ferocity
of a love that refuses silence,
as if it alone
were chosen to guard
the fragile blush
of dawn,
its petals holding
the light,
infusing its essence
as it reaches for the sky,
yearning for the sun's warmth
and the rain's solace.
Sakura hesitates
in the moment before unfolding,
for it knows
that beauty unfolds in its own sacred time -
Life is a tender whisper
in the vastness,
and to blossom at all
is an act of divine grace.
Feb 28, 2024
Feb 28, 2024 at 10:10 PM UTC
Himself it was who wrote
His rank, and quartered his own coat.
There is no king nor sovereign state
That can fix a hero's rate;
Each to all is venerable,
Cap-a-pie invulnerable,
Until he write, where all eyes rest,
Slave or master on his breast.
I saw men go up and down
In the country and the town,
With this prayer upon their neck,
"Judgment and a judge we seek."
Not to monarchs they repair,
Nor to learned jurist's chair,
But they hurry to their peers,
To their kinsfolk and their dears,
Louder than with speech they pray,
What am I? companion; say.
And the friend not hesitates
To assign just place and mates,
Answers not in word or letter,
Yet is understood the better;—
Is to his friend a looking-glass,
Reflects his figure that doth pass.
Every wayfarer he meets
What himself declared, repeats;
What himself confessed, records;
Sentences him in his words,
The form is his own corporal form,
And his thought the penal worm.
Yet shine for ever ****** minds,
Loved by stars and purest winds,
Which, o'er passion throned sedate,
Have not hazarded their state,
Disconcert the searching spy,
Rendering to a curious eye
The durance of a granite ledge
To those who gaze from the sea's edge.
It is there for benefit,
It is there for purging light,
There for purifying storms,
And its depths reflect all forms;
It cannot parley with the mean,
Pure by impure is not seen.
For there's no sequestered grot,
Lone mountain tam, or isle forgot,
But justice journeying in the sphere
Daily stoops to harbor there.
1.7k
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, find peace but don't forget your journey to that---old draft :-:
being no one is embarrassing
everyone becomes null in everything
put the mean
in a meaning to steam
but nothingness is a two edged sword
when levitating a meaningless world
adopting the faces into my timeline for glasses to erupt in aware
speak for themselves my thoughts of clears and fair
notice my dares and hesitates
when it comes to the memories of them fades and unfades
want the roses to bloom
for the awake of the kills and dooms
take a breath
shake life's hand against death
tongues speak
although aimless word disguise is chic
an invisible devotion
about surviving chaotic commotion
-----ravenfeels
Aug 1, 2021
Aug 1, 2021 at 6:06 PM UTC
You say it’s just drawing
“Nothing to worry about.
Just draw what you feel.”
My hand hesitates
Over the box of art supplies
Eventually, I choose a medium
And place it, unmoving, against the paper
You tap away incessantly on your computer
I haven’t moved a muscle
For several seconds
Yet still I hear your continual
Tap-tap, tap-tappity-tap
As I finally start to draw
I wonder what you
Possibly could have typed
Besides
“Client chose a green crayon.”
May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 12:51 PM UTC