"honourable" poems
This trumpeter of nothingness, employed
To keep our reason dull and null and void.
This man of wind and froth and flux will sell
The wares of any who reward him well.
Praising whatever he is paid to praise,
He hunts for ever-newer, smarter ways
To make the gilt seen gold; the shoddy, silk;
To cheat us legally; to bluff and bilk
By methods which no jury can prevent
Because the law's not broken, only bent.
This mind for hire, this mental **********
Can tell the half-lie hardest to refute;
Knows how to hide an inconvenient fact
And when to leave a doubtful claim unbacked;
Manipulates the truth but not too much,
And if his patter needs the Human Touch,
Skillfully artless, artlessly naive,
Wears his convenient heart upon his sleeve.
He uses words that once were strong and fine,
Primal as sun and moon and bread and wine,
True, honourable, honoured, clear and keen,
And leaves them shabby, worn, diminished, mean.
He takes ideas and trains them to engage
In the long little wars big combines wage...
He keeps his logic loose, his feelings flimsy;
Turns eloquence to cant and wit to whimsy;
Trims language till it fits his clients, pattern
And style's a glossy **** or limping slattern.
He studies our defences, finds the cracks
And where the wall is weak or worn, attacks.
lie finds the fear that's deep, the wound that's tender,
And mastered, outmanouevered, we surrender.
We who have tried to choose accept his choice
And tired succumb to his untiring voice.
The dripping tap makes even granite soften
We trust the brand-name we have heard so often
And join the queue of sheep that flock to buy;
We fools who know our folly, you and I.
11.1k
When you hear the lines
We can be friends
But not as you want it
I don't deserve you
These are legends
Masters of breakups
Know it's time to walk away
Can't you see there is lockdown?
I'm observing social distancing
Someone who once stole your heart
You even promised heaven on earth
My Dear, the calabash is crashed
Give yourself some dignity
I need a break my dear
I want to re-discover myself
My Mum said we can't marry
Sincerely, I truly love you
But if you see another, say "Yes"
My dear, please, walk away
Let's avoid imminent divorce
Especially when the signs are clear
They have a masters in heartbreaks
I got a revelation last night
My Pastor, my Prophet said
No calls, no messages, just blanks
If you've witnessed this
Please, come, let's cry together
Just believe that "Cue sera sera"
Maybe you even just delivered...
Breakups are never easy
It has sent many to depression
And some, early graves
Love cannot be forced my dear
If you are not valued and appreciated
And ghostmode is activated
Take the honourable part
Just walk away...
Where there is pain
I wish you immeasurable love
True love is never hurtful
Your setback will be a setup
For your glorious come back
And it will end in praise
Just like a Cinderella story
You aren't alone, I've been there too...
May 22, 2020
May 22, 2020 at 8:06 AM UTC
Hail, happy day, when, smiling like the morn,
Fair Freedom rose New-England to adorn:
The northern clime beneath her genial ray,
Dartmouth, congratulates thy blissful sway:
Elate with hope her race no longer mourns,
Each soul expands, each grateful ***** burns,
While in thine hand with pleasure we behold
The silken reins, and Freedom’s charms unfold.
Long lost to realms beneath the northern skies
She shines supreme, while hated faction dies:
Soon as appear’d the Goddess long desir’d,
Sick at the view, she languish’d and expir’d;
Thus from the splendors of the morning light
The owl in sadness seeks the caves of night.
No more, America, in mournful strain
Of wrongs, and grievance unredress’d complain,
No longer shalt thou dread the iron chain,
Which wanton Tyranny with lawless hand
Had made, and with it meant t’ enslave the land.
Should you, my lord, while you peruse my song,
Wonder from whence my love of Freedom sprung,
Whence flow these wishes for the common good,
By feeling hearts alone best understood,
I, young in life, by seeming cruel fate
Was snatch’d from Afric’s fancy’d happy seat:
What pangs excruciating must ******
What sorrows labour in my parent’s breast?
Steel’d was that soul and by no misery mov’d
That from a father seiz’d his babe belov’d:
Such, such my case. And can I then but pray
Others may never feel tyrannic sway?
For favours past, great Sir, our thanks are due,
And thee we ask thy favours to renew,
Since in thy pow’r, as in thy will before,
To sooth the griefs, which thou did’st once deplore.
May heav’nly grace the sacred sanction give
To all thy works, and thou for ever live
Not only on the wings of fleeting Fame,
Though praise immortal crowns the patriot’s name,
But to conduct to heav’ns refulgent fane,
May fiery coursers sweep th’ ethereal plain,
And bear thee upwards to that blest abode,
Where, like the prophet, thou shalt find thy God.
4.6k
It was a dissonant melody that made the lonesome mole weep from his blind eyes
and there were mascara stains on the face of a pensive ********** lady in the streetlights
When the orchestral waves wound up at the shores of a sandblasted city
the denizens were too afraid to speak out against tyranny, and they died
Wistful wonderment in the souls of the children as they walk hand in hand
and experience the crumbling of wonton rocks in the skies of their homeland
A celestial boom, droning on the streets, and the women are beat
Are you outraged yet?
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 7:55 AM UTC
She is the lady on the road.
She is a mother, a sister, a colleague, a bird, a lassie, a damsel.
She is the lady on the road.
She spreads love and enriches kindness in the society,
She is the crux of an organization, and the fundamental principles.
She is the lady on the road.
She twinkles with the stars and shimmers with the moon,
She scampers with her pets and hops like a frog,
She is not a nomad, but a faithful keeper.
She is the lady on the road.
She wears short skirts,
She wears tight tops,
She doesn't encourage the flirts,
She neither abominates the leering of cops.
She is the lady on the road.
She holds a honourable reputation,
She forms the base of ethical standards,
She buries the grudges and resolves the dissension,
She consolidates herself and maintains her fettle,
She is the epitome of cheerful disposition.
She is the lady on the road.
She ignores the catcalls,
She endures the torture and prevails her morale,
She is a monument unshakable, and a stone unbreakable,
She dumps her burdens and enlightens her destiny,
She protects her dignity and negotiates with denunciation,
She does no harm, but deals with it.
She is the lady on the road, ..the seventh wonder of the world.
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 7:37 PM UTC
Marriage is an incomprehensible mystery,
a hidden truth kept secret from the foundation of the world.
It cannot be discovered by intelligence or insight,
but made explainatory by revelation.
Revelation reveals the mystery of marriage,
it explains the mutual relationship in marriage.
It shows the rhema,
light and
love in marriage.
The mystery of marriage is accessed through the throne of grace.
Wisdom, knowledge and understandingof marriage is made known by revelation.
The ability to see beyond the seen,
in oder to see many unseen realities of life.
Revelation unveils the principles of building a blissful marriage.
Marriage is honourable in all,
above all in a bed undefiled.
It's hidden truth is unveiled by revelation from divinity.
It constitutes a platfrom for fruitfulness in life and ministry.
It spreads the continuity of human generation.
Marriage as a divine institution,
solves the problem of aloneness.
It empowers man with resources to fulfil destiny on earth.
It is a hidden treasure not discovered without revelation.
Let revelation inspire the discovery of marriage treasures.
Marriage not only give pleasures,
but
help partners fulfil destinies.
Understanding kills separation and builds togetherness.
It develops unity and oneness among couples.
Understanding curbs separation in marriage,
and
solves marriage mystery.
The manifestation in marriage cannot be explained,
except
by revelation.
Marriage is a mantle not a struggle.
The man must provide for his wife,
the woman must submit to her husband.
Seek love not lust before marriage,
let character and charisma build marriage,
let love and care establish marriage.
Marriage remains a mystery till death.
Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 6:41 PM UTC
The little Prince of Persia
Who's purpose is to depurse ya,
Dispersing suits, clock off time city worker,
Mark your card, inertia.
He's no mathematician or magician
But give him a dynamoment to take you to the cleaners,
cause this one's mean a!
Hellbent on humiliation he'll reverend run you to the station.
He's counting cards, counting on ya till your seeing stars, K.O, ringside seat whilst you get parred, po, poker face he'll drive you gaga!
So Loay and behold he might not be honourable, but he's willing and able to bring the last supper to this table.
He's not called Jack but he's a joker, in guise he tries to choke ya, draw the ace but it won't help ya,
cause you're a disgraced King
and you've just been usurped sir,
by that little Prince of Persia.
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 4:44 PM UTC
if the sinking-of-boat …ice-cream by name
be deducted from the swept-off-in-flood … by name roll no 31
then would the wings of the comics
cease to exist
what says the uninterrupted sound of water-falling
from the stomach of the moon
what writes the pus and blood
what writes the fuming-hot rice
the creepers and the herbs grow continuously
in the insomniac bath-tub
the sounds of the horse-hoof floated by the river
used to change the velocity of its clothes
both in the morning and evening
the birds from the cornice go to school
by dip-swimming
it may come one day when the fishes
become very angry and in the tale of the sweet-meat
the potter will destroy the jointly-built bee-hive
then all hurricane would be habituated to dinner
sans saliva
then there would be no such morning-walk
in the body of the trees
from which such a bore could be found out
through which an elderly saral may fly
into the blue translation of a squirrel
the magnetic field of the orange-pulp
and the productivity of the open window
reside in the same locality
if their frequency be touched
then the the antenna of the mermaids
speared with sleeping-oil
may be injured
by burnings their eyes
the crow-birds knocks at
in the soap-foams
produced by the afternoon
the pond with a jumping deer
wants to make bite
it is not known by this way
when a white hyphen
sticks to the palate of the shirt
now put off all the whispers
and let it be talked on the will-paper of the bees
why the pages from the honourable ash-trays
be excluded
those bunch of waters
that come out from the churning of the anises
and the jumps born of their *****
also make friends with the group-photos
now let this other night sends its best wishes
to the future candles
through a cell-phone
Sep 14, 2010
Sep 14, 2010 at 5:25 PM UTC
*“Whatever anyone does or says, I must be emerald and keep my colour.”
(Marcus Aurelius; Meditations)*
As many of you may already know by now, the above quote by Marcus Aurelius has been my motto in life. But today I raise a question for all of us to think about! What happens when one day someone comes exploding into your life and already knows that you're an emerald? You have spent your life keeping your color; despite the fears, betrayals, disappointments and hurts, then what if one day somebody falls down from the assembly of the gods and simply knows you through and through? Your color, your worth... the fact that you are emerald! The question is: how do you stop "keeping" color, when all you have left to do is simply to "be" emerald? No more fear. How does one begin to cope with the sudden loss of fear? Certainly it is the very best thing that can happen to an individual on earth, but I am startled by the realization that letting go of the battle against life and simply being alive, might actually require courage, in itself! It takes courage not only to fight; it also takes courage to believe that good things can happen. It takes courage to simply have grace, to breathe. There comes a time when you no longer need to protect yourself, and that is just as honourable, and perhaps even more honourable, than all the battles you stood up to fight!
Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 7:50 PM UTC
When battles were fought
With a chivalrous sense of should and ought,
In spirit men said,
“End we quick or dead,
Honour is some reward!
Let us fight fair—for our own best or worst;
So, Gentlemen of the Guard,
Fire first!”
In the open they stood,
Man to man in his knightlihood:
They would not deign
To profit by a stain
On the honourable rules,
Knowing that practise perfidy no man durst
Who in the heroic schools
Was nurst.
But now, behold, what
Is war with those where honour is not!
Rama laments
Its dead innocents;
Herod howls: “Sly slaughter
Rules now! Let us, by modes once called accurst,
Overhead, under water,
Stab first.”
2.7k
He was the kind of man
You could trust your wife with
Honourable and trustworthy
The perfect gentleman.
Maybe they took him for granted
Or trusted him too much.
He couldn't believe his luck
Finally he got a shot.
When asked what changed
He said he loved too much
More than life itself
everything else was a distraction.
He said he would **** for her
And he eventually did
The over bearing husband
That wouldn't treat her right.
Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 12:24 PM UTC
The epitome of greatness, a mark in history
Of discipline remarkable, a stellar victory
Defeating the unbeaten, knock and break the mould
International heavyweight of Olympic Gold
Strike in quick succession, opponents retreat
Delivery duration, a knockout of defeat
Tactical ability, step into the range
Catalyst created, set for further change
Of the highest calibre, man who beat the man
Delivery on target, a humble champion
Of opponents outclassed, discontinued bout
Dominant performance, within and without
With athletic excellence, distance travelled far
Gym of daily training, cardio and spar
Professional perspective, stood to set the pace
Dedication, boldness, motivate, embrace
Influencing globally, rank of the elite
Rapid combinations, uppercuts repeat
Powerful formation, readiness of stance
Daily preparation, practice over chance
An honourable service, magnificence abound
Celebrating victory, crowding to surround
Continuing the greatness, strength and stamina
The world is truly grateful, Anthony Joshua
Written by Geraldine Taylor ©
Jun 11, 2017
Jun 11, 2017 at 3:21 PM UTC
In the name of Allah, Most Gracious, Most Merciful.
************************************ ****************
1. When the heaven is cleft asunder.
2. And when the stars have fallen and scattered;
3. And when the seas are burst forth;
4. And when the graves are turned upside down (and they bring out their contents)
5. (Then) a person will know what he has sent forward and (what he has) left behind (of good or bad deeds) .
6. O man! What has made you careless concerning your Lord, the Most Generous?
7. Who created you, fashioned you perfectly, and gave you due proportion;
8. In whatever form He willed, He put you together.
9. Nay! But you deny the Recompense (reward for good deeds and punishment for evil deeds) .
10. But verily, over you (are appointed angels in charge of mankind) to watch you,
11. Kiraman (honourable) Katibin writing down (your deeds) ,
12. They know all that you do.
13. Verily, the Abrar (pious and righteous) will be in delight (Paradise):
14. And verily, the Fujjar (the wicked, disbelievers, sinners and evil-doers) will be in the blazing Fire (Hell) ,
15. In which they will enter, and taste its burning flame on the Day of Recompense,
16. And they (Al-Fujjar) will not be absent therefrom (i.e. will not go out from the Hell) .
17. And what will make you know what the Day of Recompense is?
18. Again, what will make you know what the Day of Recompense is?
19. (It will be) the Day when no person shall have power (to do) anything for another, and the Decision, that Day, will be (wholly) with Allah.
Dec 25, 2015
Dec 25, 2015 at 9:36 AM UTC
you came in from the cold dressed bold
under a black flag like isis on the road
to baghdad in a red ferrari going all john
le carré defecting with the little drummer
girl laurie in a deadly affair expecting
the honourable school boy when i'm used
to being a most wanted man -
now i'm no naïve and sentimental lover, baby
i'm the perfect spy and this ain't a small town
in germany but ich bin ein berliner, fraulein -
you better make this your last call for the dead
- it was (y)our kind of game playing
tinkering tailoring soldiering spying -
doodling smiley's people on the side
acting like absolute friends with fred
the constant gardener at the russia house
and red the tailor of panama
like a ***** with a straw up your nose
in the looking glass war
but if you do it again -
let me tell you a secret, pilgrim
i'll drop you where you lie -
it'll be a ****** of quality, baby
and that's a delicate truth
- you were our kind of traitor
on the blue mesa.
r ~ 11/14/14
i like john le carré
:)
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 8:48 AM UTC
(Earnestly) I beg to move the motion
Standing on the Order Paper
In my name and those good names
Of my Right Honourable Friends.
Straight up, I’ll say, it’s right that we this House
Should debate this issue, should pass judgement.
That is democracy; that is our Right
That others elsewhere struggle for in vain.
Again I’ll say I do not disrespect
The wavering of those not yet convinced.
This is a tough choice and – yes – a stark one:
To stand down our committed troops and turn back
Or to hold firm and so continue on.
I strongly believe that we must hold firm.
The question most people will ask is not
Why does it matter – no – but why so much?
Well, as we brave this new Millenium
And face up to the Nation’s greatest threat
With our majority already stretched,
A resignation from the cabinet,
With all the other parties also split,
With everywhere the closest of allies
In disagreement while on different sides
Those who usually would not agree
Agree on this. The people, this parliament
Echo the discord with an echo made
Less bitter as time passes, not less grave.
So why, then, does it matter quite so much?
Because the outcome of our firm resolve
Will find itself determining much more
Than Iraq’s future and her peoples’ fate
More than the liberty of an whole race
Brutalized in Saddam’s sick sick name.
It will in fact decide the way in which
Britain, the world and we confront the threats
Our right to liberty requires met.
It will, what’s more, affect the UN’s role,
EU relations, Transatlantic ties,
The manners of the US in the world.
It will prove the political pattern
For a generation, perhaps more, to come.
This is no longer the time to falter;
I will not be party to such a course.
This is now the time for this house to lead;
To show that we will fearlessly confront
Terror, tyranny and dictatorships
Which threaten to put all our lives at risk.
To show that at this moment of decision
We have the courage, we have the vision
To do the right thing. I beg to move the motion…
Feb 22, 2011
Feb 22, 2011 at 1:58 AM UTC
The hiding
Is so much worse.
All i want to be is symmetrical.
Symmetrical.
Knowledge rained
On them today.
They tasted the acid
and it burned their lungs,
it burned their lungs.
Symmetrical.
Run into darkness
For safety.
You never know what you will find.
Symmetrical.
Symmetrical
to me.
Find the treasures
On a lonely island.
Talk to the trees.
Find a friend in the fish.
Die an honourable death.
Symmetrical.
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 3:08 PM UTC
Where there is thunder that reigns
down the emptiness of your flesh,
in a war hidden and filled with apathy,
to sink behind darkness , once named shame.
There it is, the torn kingdom,
that you've claimed as your body.
The temple which you've loved,
but never cared for in those aeons of silence.
*Where you pretended that doing nothing
would solve everything*.
And so you weep, for the unfairness of it all,
as you claw at your already mangled flesh,
and press for the warmth of your heart.
Pretend that the rush of blood is a rolling blanket.
You swallow those shards of glass, and emulate the heavens,
and pretend your body with jagged scars
is the place for honourable heroes; pretend your triumph
in this barren, damp land of storms
is the place where thunder always reigns.
A place for heroes who never won, but died in their place.
Jan 11, 2019
Jan 11, 2019 at 8:49 AM UTC
I used to dream
of being a great man
a heroic man
the kind that songs are sung of
stories are written of
The kind of man that leads people to victory
that sacrifices for the greater good
noble, honourable and courageous
But I realise now;
I am none of that - but;
I am a content man,
I am a happy man
In the end, I think I prefer to be happy
I think...
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 6:58 PM UTC
The day blister as the sun followed 'er.
No shade nor a parasol as she goeth an' hope for evanescent heat
A basket in 'er hand, one way to marketplace
'Alt! A mad horse kicked thro'
Dropped on earth, dirt in 'er sleeves
"Gawd o' all horses keep yer eyes open to see!"
A fine young man bowed down for repent about his detriment ride.
O! Poor little thing!
A thorough water in the basket she offered for 'er long little journey.
** The vigor horse galloped an' circle round she.
'twas a good thing an' he proffers honourable ride.
There goes the curtsy 'off in the marketplace' says she.
Alt! The creature pause. Where is this? "thy big heart shalt hail for I, present thankfulness. Devoting thy fortune." the prince rendered his throne bounteously.
O! Applause how majestic upclose a palace could be.
'tis she wish e'er since. To seek for a lost playmate, hoping for camaraderie. Remembering in that small village where the little prince sneaked. Oh dear! 'Twas he!
Aye! The prince hoped the same an' knew all of a sudden. He made 'er his wife!
(An' they live happily e'er after. Bow)
-A
8/11/14
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 2:14 AM UTC
*the ones warring on the flag of defeat can't be called either troll or parasite... too noble such entitlements, they are the **** genus worthy of ignorance, that they are found roaring on the flag of defeat, when such publicity is allowed of public musing deeper than soft-spoken in one's own room, as transcript of thought made public, ironically without one's geographic coordinates... and what lack of honour to be warring with such circumstances being allowed.*
i shouldn't have written my words among poets,
too many simplicities surrounded them,
with the poets came made surrogates,
a stillbirth, if nothing more
9 months of **** as the new economics
that gave us appreciative homosexuality,
a curbing of the expeditions of population
we didn't blame on Chinese or Blue Indians
due to having inherited masochistic Christianity,
the last greek mythology, THE, LAST!
and no more from the greek tongue! no more!
then the second feat of the suffragettes
that became the surrogates...
and yet, i stilled braved to sing
for the escapist tongue of
brotherhood that the misty mountain's cold
encapsulated... in which i braved
the brotherhood, every, second, counter,
to marriage to a woman...
domestication is no adventure! it's no adventure!
there is no fear and sudden death in
domestication... it breeds cattle! readied for
death not ready! *two dungeons deep and caverns old...
the pines were roaring on the hight!
the winds were mourning in the night...
the fire was red it flamed and spread,
the trees like torches, blazed with light.*
this... this is my ideal afterlife! take your Koran
and terrorism and take a **** in the desert with
the cats for worth of knowing such "exquisiteness"
as it might be worth mining in the dunes of sand!
while the thirst of metalloid and abstract horse-tow
gives your false timing...
and when you take this anger written on the flag
of defeat, and turn to warring with it on your own
flag of defeat... you will be conquered,
slain and tortured, as is my promise, always
honourable.
May 12, 2016
May 12, 2016 at 7:36 PM UTC
Command or conform,
You don't have a choice,
For that's the way of the world.
Lead the pack
Or be the pack;
Your mind laying dormant and furled.
You'll be governed by strict rules,
But no, think for yourself:
Do the good, fight the evil,
Put your life on a shelf.
For when people say follow your dreams,
They don't really mean follow
It's a masquerade for *co-align with us
Or we'll leave you dry and hollow*
If you lead,
You're honourable, worthy,
But only for a while;
For if you infringe the decisions of the pack,
They'll watch your ousting with a smile.
But that is the law of the land,
The way the world works.
If you follow, you're weak
But if you lead, it hurts.
> a.t.
Dec 28, 2016
Dec 28, 2016 at 5:52 AM UTC
Mercy is weak
Mercy is honourable
Mercy is dangerous
Mercy is horrible
Mercy is the game that you play with your hands
Mercy is ok when the rules expand.
Mercy is the point to which you wish you could return
Mercy is a moment that still makes you burn.
Mercy is a crying plea all through the night
Mercy is a cross-stitch caused by knife
Mercy is the **** that lets you run
Mercy is staring down the barrel of a gun.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 11:31 AM UTC
While deep you mourn beneath the cypress-shade
The hand of Death, and your dear daughter laid
In dust, whose absence gives your tears to flow,
And racks your ***** with incessant woe,
Let Recollection take a tender part,
Assuage the raging tortures of your heart,
Still the wild tempest of tumultuous grief,
And pour the heav’nly nectar of relief:
Suspend the sigh, dear Sir, and check the groan,
Divinely bright your daughter’s Virtues shone:
How free from scornful pride her gentle mind,
Which ne’er its aid to indigence declin’d!
Expanding free, it sought the means to prove
Unfailing charity, unbounded love!
She unreluctant flies to see no more
Her dear-lov’d parents on earth’s dusky shore:
Impatient heav’n’s resplendent goal to gain,
She with swift progress cuts the azure plain,
Where grief subsides, where changes are no more,
And life’s tumultuous billows cease to roar;
She leaves her earthly mansion for the skies,
Where new creations feast her wond’ring eyes.
To heav’n’s high mandate cheerfully resign’d
She mounts, and leaves the rolling globe behind;
She, who late wish’d that Leonard might return,
Has ceas’d to languish, and forgot to mourn;
To the same high empyreal mansions come,
She joins her spouse, and smiles upon the tomb:
And thus I hear her from the realms above:
“Lo! this the kingdom of celestial love!
“Could ye, fond parents, see our present bliss,
“How soon would you each sigh, each fear dismiss?
“Amidst unutter’d pleasures whilst I play
“In the fair sunshine of celestial day,
“As far as grief affects an happy soul
“So far doth grief my better mind controul,
“To see on earth my aged parents mourn,
“And secret wish for T——! to return:
“Let brighter scenes your ev’ning-hours employ:
“Converse with heav’n, and taste the promis’d joy”
1.7k
**Beauty of presence, resplendent in grace,
such beautiful eyes, in a beautiful face.
Aphrodite child, exquisite in form,
an Orchid, so fragrant, with countenance warm.
To light up the sky, you bewitch, you beguile,
instinctive, reflexive, with Heavenly smile.
Galadriel Lady, the only one of a kind,
an Angel of light, and so refined.
Honourable woman, so noble of heart
genuine, proud, a woman apart.
Unfailing, loyal, a dependable friend
there when you're needed, always there to the end.
... ... ...**
May 2, 2011
May 2, 2011 at 3:13 AM UTC
As I sat by the window sill
Decked in grey garb
Listening to adumbrations
And other grey garbage,
My eyes were drawn beyond the room,
Out across an odd sea of serrated roofs
Till I saw,
On a sandy patch of land
Ten boys and a ball.
I sat between my passion and my profession,
Peering out the window of my profession.
I watched engrossed, my passion
Bib around my neck,
Boots upon their feet.
“LD/HCR/.... “
The court clerk cried.
I profess passion for another profession,
I’m not a professional at my passion,
But I can profess my profession passionately!
And so I rise...
“May it please this honourable court...”
And it was ******
Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 2:35 PM UTC