"impels" poems
I.
Hear the sledges with the bells—
Silver bells!
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
How they ****** ****** ******
In their icy air of night!
While the stars, that oversprinkle
All the heavens, seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells—
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.
II.
Hear the mellow wedding bells,
Golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
Through the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight!
From the molten golden-notes,
And all in tune,
What a liquid ditty floats
To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats
On the moon!
Oh, from out the sounding cells,
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
How it swells!
How it dwells
On the future! how it tells
Of the rapture that impels
To the swinging and the ringing
Of the bells, bells, bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells—
To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!
III.
Hear the loud alarum bells—
Brazen bells!
What a tale of terror now their turbulency tells!
In the startled ear of night
How they scream out their affright!
Too much horrified to speak,
They can only shriek, shriek,
Out of tune,
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire
Leaping higher, higher, higher,
With a desperate desire,
And a resolute endeavor
Now—now to sit or never,
By the side of the pale-faced moon.
Oh, the bells, bells, bells!
What a tale their terror tells
Of Despair!
How they clang, and clash, and roar!
What a horror they outpour
On the ***** of the palpitating air!
Yet the ear it fully knows,
By the twanging,
And the clanging,
How the danger ebbs and flows;
Yet the ear distinctly tells,
In the jangling,
And the wrangling,
How the danger sinks and swells,
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells—
Of the bells—
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells—
In the clamor and the clangor of the bells!
IV.
Hear the tolling of the bells—
Iron bells!
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!
In the silence of the night,
How we shiver with affright
At the melancholy menace of their tone!
For every sound that floats
From the rust within their throats
Is a groan.
And the people—ah, the people—
They that dwell up in the steeple.
All alone,
And who toiling, toiling, toiling,
In that muffled monotone,
Feel a glory in so rolling
On the human heart a stone—
They are neither man nor woman—
They are neither brute nor human—
They are Ghouls:
And their king it is who tolls;
And he rolls, rolls, rolls,
Rolls
A paean from the bells!
And his merry ***** swells
With the paean of the bells!
And he dances, and he yells;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the paean of the bells—
Of the bells:
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the throbbing of the bells—
Of the bells, bells, bells—
To the sobbing of the bells;
Keeping time, time, time,
As he knells, knells, knells,
In a happy Runic rhyme,
To the rolling of the bells—
Of the bells, bells, bells—
To the tolling of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells—
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.
10.5k
Ongoing failures of the Church to act,
will guarantee the sure success of evil;
for faith without works is… still dead
and visible today is spiritual upheaval.
The internal chasm between the members
of both sides -the presbytery and laity-
must be bridged with faithful cooperation,
girded with policies that last permanently.
Even today, God is quietly waiting on the Body,
while the unsaved are queued up for Hell.
Individual Faith is a person’s responsibility,
but the Great Commission impels us to tell…
others about God, His Love and Christ’s Salvation.
After 2000+ years, The World has not misunderstood.
A final solution is required and not yet in place-
each of us must desire to… overcome Evil with good!
.
.
.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
James 2:14-26; Obad 1:11-15; Gal 6:7-9;
Matt 5:45, 28:16-20
All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is
that good men continue to do nothing -Edmund Burke
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2014, All rights reserved.
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 4:07 AM UTC
To look, or not to look: that is the question:
Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to forsake
The entertaining of such fanciful thoughts of love or lust
Or to pursue them against all odds of a benign response,
And by seeking, obtain? To look: to see:
Maybe more; And by a sight to find
In the glitter of an lined eye the interest and wanting
That impels said actions; ‘tis a reciprocation
Devoutly sought. To look: to see:
To see: perchance to lose: ay, there’s the rub;
For in that subtle glance what times may follow after
Whether the ice is broken or the heart instead,
Must give us pause: there’s the respect
That makes calamity of a choice to peek;
For who would bear the hurt of a scornful return,
A finding that the goddess is a medusa,
A turning of the fancies to stone,
A realization of disinterest, a knitting of the brows
A frown’s beginnings on a face so fair,
When she herself might her peace make
By refraining to meet the intended’s eye? Who would want
To face a rejection that is in all chance,
But for the regret that comes with a chance not taken,
Leaving what could be as what could have been
Forevermore, which makes us turn
And face the one to one million
Than never to face it at all?
Thus fear of rejections makes regretters of us all,
And thus the resolve to be one of a million
Is weakened by weighty o’erthought,
And an attempt to contemplate her soul through her eyes
With this regard are abandoned,
And lost to remain as fanciful thought.
Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 10:51 PM UTC
When they move towards
Wind impels over the
Bamboo groves and
A thunderous sound spread over
Everyone scare........
They come to take share of harvest,
They are branded as Tughami !
Every one disquiet and pray to almighty!
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 6:45 AM UTC
I see you in the sky ,
Far, afar off.
I watch you from the earth,
Far, afar off.
Brightness enlightens the
vicinity from the grip of
elemental forces,
Enveloping the entire arena and
beyond like the mother hen
brooding her children out
of the reach of seducing eyes
of a roaming hawks in the
sky.
Your dome-shaped entity
distinctively standing aloof
like a magnificent rotunda
palatial in the Arabian oasis.
Thirty nights of illumination,
When we spreads our mats
to narrate tale under your
watchful eyes.
When elders recounts narrative
and ancient panorama of
yesteryears.
When we clap,
When we sing,
When we dance
In the womb of your greatness.
Thirty nights of total darkness,
When lanterns endlessly
searches for light to
extinguish darkness,
When the night-callers
terrorizes our quietness,
When the guardsmen work
like wild wolves to fish
out the sons of Belial,
When the night impels babies
to retire to their cradles,
When the wiles of darkness
inculcate an aura of fear into
our minds.
Prolong your circles and
brighten our hope.
You produces light,
You illuminates season.
Your neighbor reigns over
days,
While you control the affairs
of darkness.
Dec 21, 2018
Dec 21, 2018 at 11:26 PM UTC
more than some less than most
this dharma *** impels its ghost
to laugh and lust the days away
to cheat the dust that makes its way
from far Nepal and settles deep
on this raging skull toward final sleep
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 10:27 AM UTC
If such a lie this life impels:
in love is out of time,
inarticulate to tell
nor codify in rhyme
A symphony of Cupid's bow
drawn taught against desire
impossible to keep in tune
with Orpheus' lyre
Then breath the Logos through my being
speak of life and death and sin
I'll ask of love and closer lean
and hear it not again
Yet if it's true, there's naught above
that we cannot outlive in Love
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 4:35 PM UTC
I've seen better days in the fountain of my youth,
glimpses of the future impels me to see the truth.
Contemplating which path is best or worst,
through blood I've been ****** and cursed.
For once I take that first step to start,
I have no choice but to depart.
Standing at the edge about to implode,
the challenge of a crossroad.
Aug 22, 2015
Aug 22, 2015 at 11:54 AM UTC
What impels us to go there
And visit that pain
To torture ourselves
When there is nothing to gain
Why do we have to continually fight
Against what is in us
And what is without
Trying to do what is right
What is this battle we feel
That pulls at the strings of our heart
Our happiness steals
And tears us apart
Is it our conscience that stings
Or our pride that smarts
When we look inside
This place called our heart
What is it that makes us bring
Ourselves to look so deep inside
Until what we find takes our voice
And we can no longer sing
Apr 5, 2010
Apr 5, 2010 at 6:54 PM UTC
Arpita ,-The Only one .
There is one ,
Only one Arpita ,
With ten thousands synonyms ,
And two Nature’s amplitude ,
To cover sense of love ,and that of feeling ,
The widened unconquered ,
Ripples beyond the horizon ,
And the frictionless revere ,
Mingles with the waited time ,
Lo ! the colossal silence chambers the rime .
Hers is the eternal Divine in love ,
And she tinges the hearts ,
With the magic fragrance of frenzy ,
She impels ,she awakens the slumbering soul ,
There is only one Arpita , that arises and rolls !
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 12:34 PM UTC
We took a dive in the stars.
I made a wish, just one.
I begged the moon, just one more dance,
before we faced the morning sun.
Moonlight lovers, that's what we are.
We ache to be covered in the moon.
The lambency impels us to stay,
until the sunlight compels you home.
Last night rest on my lips, it throbs my pelvis.
You are the star covering my sky.
For we are lovers of the fervor night,
the owls awake and birds no longer fly.
We thirst for the passion that the moon brings forth.
We pine at the thought of the time that's left.
We don't want this to end ever,
and so we count the hours until sunset.
We are moonlight lovers,
We dance in the moon.
We are moonlight lovers,
Until your sunlight love comes home.
May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 5:23 PM UTC
Straddled, lovingly, fibers needle into bone
Your anxiety of anticipation,
How I wish it were potable,
So I may drink the terror I have bred in you
I perch above you, heinous desires for your flora to overrun my entrails
Of all the silt eyes in the world, yours are the darkest
Pining for your validation,
For your attention,
As withered roots desperately crawl towards the damp soil
But your heart is barren of solicitude
And so I will soak the soil with your blood.
This charming man,
So cunning, and so wise
If it is not I who fulfills your ****** appetite,
No one will.
Undergrowth impels into irrigated bushes
Hedonism, even as your eyes paint such terror inimitable to capture in brush strokes
Voraciously, desperately,
It builds, the adrenaline, the bliss,
And into me you are, fulminating, everything your pedigree can give
I raise the steel, and I am unafraid
For my calloused hands have been soiled for generations
Plunging,
Squelching,
Broken yawps.
Your lineage,
Cradled by forever empty organs,
Is just as barren as your soul.
As your gore suffocates your lungs,
And my tongue caresses my blade,
I watch those silt eyes turn even darker
You will expire in me,
And no one will have you again.
Feb 24, 2025
Feb 24, 2025 at 1:57 AM UTC
They sweep into the cave, swirling about the abridged quietude of their presence;
Constantly smiling at all events that may occur or not, and the testing of resolve;
Dark air pervades, and hangs still, as perfidy nibbles at the feet of a companion;
A hot dizzy essence enters the mind of an exhausted, prostrate,pleading traveller;
Nor is the dweller moved by the entreaties nor realities of other existences within;
Sweltering sobs penetrate all those who enter the self-contained residence-beware;
There is no caring force amidst the eerie egocentric joys-the megalomania here in;
Habitually unmoved and mired in the smugness of some perceived elevated state;
Only terror flows as the bats eye and circle the treasure of impending importance;
A blinding light impels the occupant to stagger toward the entrance-the issue lost!
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 10:07 AM UTC
the dogeared man
his tattered face looks into the oncoming
weather with resigned indignation
his eyes set deep into the beaten lines of his face
deep tan marks the passage of years
in the anvil of the hallendale sun
he mutters something to me
but so caught by the crawling beast of his appearance
i remain ignorant of the words
but not the meaning
he gathers me with a hand pulling on my sleeve
impels me to the concrete with comprehensions
we scatter the sand our treading had garnished from the beach
like a tenuous trail of grey
mixed with our wet footprints
already evaporating like calypso songs in the night air
he leads me to his ramshackle porch
where a thousand treasures have come to decay
where all roads of the mind lay moist with tears
i look into the dusty window to the threadbare house
there written on the wall with neat hand
is a promise from soul to soul
that he would wait for her
till time itself died
he shuffles through his backpack
pulling from its dark content
all matter of silver and gold trinket
which he tosses all into a mouldering pile in the corner
untill he reaches his true prize
a single plastic rose
and he whispers
'for you my love...for you'
he sets it at the foot of the wall
bearing his words for his lover
there it lay with a thousand other
plastic roses stained with tears
stained by the years
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 3:13 PM UTC
Imperative perception
It was all far fetched, a time when I searched myself in others
No one can ever give me the moment of clarity and serenity
An eternity of peace within oneself, an embody of higher self
This place of ultimate truth and surreal objectification
A reflection of timeless lapses, the laps of completeness
The storms were a taboo, the recurrent flying unquietness
The un-resolving trips and flares of unpolarised magnetic currents
The escape to pristine moments, prestige throughs and peaks
A vision from the drowning sea, me sinking in the whirlpool
I mirrored my own reflection to yours, my 'I' to "you", your 'I" to "me"
Melodious Creeks
The moment called now is my only lullaby I can hear
A whisper so harmonised and crystallised deep in the seabed
A candle light of moment of truth in a rotating crystal ball
The chaos in the jungle have escaped to the peaks of the mountain
Uninformed lands with uniformed pebbles, the shattered glasses
Demons that stood ***** as they pierced and taunted a being
Why did it take so long?
Lets go the springs and streams of pain, the unending past
It's not a feeling, or logic, its a way of human existence
An entwinement of anthems embellished with peace
Presentiment
***** the barred barricades for me to see your pastures
I can feel the darkness that embodies your soul and mind
A thunder in the unending jungle, jiggling in kingdoms
Reject my sharp vision, I cry your tears as you do mine
I stare at your blur as you submerge in the deep waters
The blackening tunnels with no escape reject my eyes
The icy layers squeezing to escape in your sorrows
The narrowed aisles have become the only island you cruise
The trajectory of our blood realigned in our future sins
Found self?
Listen to the strings adjoining in the basements of the cliffs
The line balancing on the centrifugal pump as it impels to shrouds
Of choices?
Predetermination and judgment of other as I lost a piece of my time
In this territory, I stand at the borderline of my devotion in battle
Holding my rifle and connecting to life and all; me a solider of love
Parading in the landscapes of inhibitions and thought processes
A soul I hold is my only liberation to live fully and autonomously
Eyes wide open, mouth wide ajar as we rise and survive doing our best!
Feb 11, 2018
Feb 11, 2018 at 8:59 AM UTC
She is caressed and tickled faintly
Moves her limbs swiftly against its currents
Seeks to fend off the darkness that surrounds
But is too uncaring to pay heed
Pay heed to those floating by
Disturbing their reveries
Dreams they dream with their eyes wide open
Gazing at the stars, the skies pitch black
For their dreams to realize
They pray to the stars falling
To holy spirits, to Zeus in the gauzy haze
Ignoring her as she drowns
Wishing with lust for glitters and gold
They float all over all around
Blocking the shimmering moonlight
The miniscule ray of hope that she had
Worse, she got vertigo
The waters wash away with whirlpools
In effervescence all bonds that existed
Now withered and weak
The water of totality
Incorporeal, incorporating totality
With mediocre attempts
Barely chafing composure of the surfers
Surfers in trance, penancing after their dreams
Somnolent and drooling in lullaby
Unmindful of the drowning damsel
She is about to succumb
A drunk sailor passes by
Intoxicated in psychedelics, tipsy
With languid gait and slow movements
The world melting before him
With eyes closed he sees the unseen
Vivid serene sceneries and warping visuals
That you and I call hallucinations
Purple, pink and scarlet with spirals
And other ineffable amorphous shapes
For his senses are hindered
That he outreaches for help, that’d cost
Cost him his own dreams and adventures
Dreams to cover the seven seas
With eleven bottles of ***
A downhaul he extends for her
All he sees is a beautiful woman in pain
All he assumes is a paragon of virtue
A company to fill in his solitude
He helps her aboard.
Appalled by apathy of the world
She impels him out of his boat
And treads on alone
To conquer the world
A world of despair
Somewhere among the dreamers
Floating on their surfboards
The bored pirate sees it all
In ephermal tranquillity
For him, “All the world’s a stage”
Innate truths of the world are clear
Thus he just observes from a distance
Like an all seeing eye of the illuminati
And he doesn’t dream
Anymore.
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 11:08 AM UTC
What is it that impels us to know
in so many words,
that we are no different.
Not conspiracy theories,
and certainly scared of the
pulsing and inevitable
common experience.
It awaits us, I suppose,
in every crevice and
all but anything we shirk
in disgust and anguish—
Because it is only struggle
braved alone that brings
a new day of knowing
that everything is part of
something solitary and stoic.
Fortunately, our giggles
never fail to fill the gaps,
pulling each other closer and
closer and there are no more reflections,
only impossibly identical blurs.
Mar 22, 2011
Mar 22, 2011 at 1:43 PM UTC
the metal man sits in the nights comforting shadows
only the utterances of his steam engine soul
reveal his presence
phrases like prayers still fall from cold lips
on his polished bronze face
but the conviction they once held
now bitter and faded
taste of rust and tainted oils
the metal mans hand twitches
and folds on the armchairs rest
unconsciously seeking the comforts of its creators hand
seeking comfort and absolution
at the counsel of soulless
pity this dark creature stitched in misery's shadows
his metal heart labours on to his fate
like the mindless apostles of hate
but neath that cold dark lens lives a soul
no man or woman is beyond redemption
none can speak to that tale that have not walked its bitter road
pity this dark beast as much as you ware its hand
we are all children neath the anvil of the sun
we are all born innocent
we all die alone
the metal man now unmoving
silence slowly spreads over him
as the rust of the living world creeps upon
and claims him
i stand there next to him
watching the fires of his engine dim and flicker
watching as the phrases like prayers falling coldly
from his brass carved lips slowly trickle to a halt
as his will returns to the sand
that created him
pity this creature as much as you ware his dark hand
the darkly world comes
lens of his eye dose not perceive you
only what its design impels it to believe
only the tissue of lies that are its dreams
sanguine the metal man now rust
comes undone
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 10:55 AM UTC
A Revised Edition
From The Works of the Late Edgar Allan Poe, vol. II, 1850
In the icy air where the stars do sprinkle bright
keeping time, keeping time
with the jingling bells of night
it is there I lay my heart, my lonely heart
Hear the mellow wedding bells
the golden bells of happiness, ringing to foretell
Through the balmy air of night how they ring with such delight
from the molten-golden notes, the liquid ditty floats
A gush of euphony within her dwells
for a future that foretells of the rapture that impels
from the swinging and the ringing of the bells,
to the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!
Later how they clang and clash and roar in the throbbing air
hear the tolling of the bells, the bells, the bells
in a world of solemn thought, their monody compels
in the silence of the night she shivers with affright
And the lover oh the lover, dwelling deep inside the steeple
all alone,.. tolling, tolling, in that muffled monotone
turns her heart to solid stone, as she listens to the bells
the bells, the bells, the bells...
Dec 8, 2023
Dec 8, 2023 at 7:31 PM UTC
A call to action is not action
Other things that are not action include:
Expostulation rhetoric poetry
Fulmination logic contumely
Proposition dialectic philosophy
Tergiversation polemic and ideology
Actual action, he expostulated, is behavior -
Behavior that acts, he fulminated,
Actually impels or constrains the acts
Of other behavers
This is only done, he propounded,
By applying pressure to weak points
In these others’ safety or security
But acts of violence, he tergiversated,
Only spread or institutionalize violence.
Apart from physical violence, he droned on,
All people have two things they can use
To act with –
Time, and Money.
What you can do with time is specific
To your skills and situation
But what you can do with money
Has exactly two categories:
You can give it,
Or you can withhold it.
You may think withholding is automatic,
And it is, it is; but you are not the one doing it,
It is being withheld from you, in every pay period.
By far your largest charitable contribution
Is to institutionalized violence.
To attempt to withhold your money from these withholdings
Would be enormously risky, painful and destabilizing
In ways that calls to action and other forms of talk never are.
But for one body to impart momentum to another body,
It has to transfer energy, i.e. there must be a cost.
* * * * * * *
On the other hand:
It is currently fashionable to say
That we are not the same person over time
Everything is replaced every few years, personality is a myth
And according to the most advanced thinking
Consciousness is an accident that affects nothing.
In the real world, of course,
I’m the same person I was at age seven
When I first thought of myself as a person;
This knowledge is immediate and irrefutable.
We aren’t the sum total of replaceable parts,
And consciousness for most people is a long-lived thing
Not the space between tick-tocks of a metronome.
This conscious thing concerns itself almost entirely
With exteriors, which are almost the only thing to
Latch onto. But the ultimate ho-hum of the exteriors
Compared to the permanent (mortal) consciousness,
Which has no good bad up down or plus-minus incentives
Gets so obvious as to become ridiculous. This is Anti-Action.
Other terms include depression, cynicism, selfishness,
Detachment, solipsism, reality.
But you must care about the others,
Or you are contemptible. Even the Buddha
Said this…right? (It was a long time ago
And there may have been many edits.)
The real and only basis for action is Love,
That is to say you must care about the exteriors
Which is to say the undeniable mechanics of the world
And what happens to those who are acted upon. You Must.
Is this knowledge immediate and irrefutable?
Apr 2, 2020
Apr 2, 2020 at 3:58 PM UTC