"implored" poems
I was relaxed, and deep in thought
The type of talk that silence brought
When just in earshot it rocked,
tick tock
tick tock
"Must be a clock"
I told myself and resumed my thought
Though as the seconds passed I could not,
Despite the will with which I fought
Do to its incessant knock
Tick tock
Tick tock
I searched for the clock
Unable to find the train I sought
I grew more and more distraught
With each and every tick and tock
That find the clock, I could not
As the silence grew more fraught
With the knock,
Tick Tock
Tick Tock
I knew the pain of Lancelot
On and on it ticked and tocked
I cursed at the unseen dreadnought
It no longer merely mocked
But each and every tick and tock
Became an unseen onslaught
TICK TOCK
TICK TOCK
T'was 11 o'clock,
When my heart felt the gunshot
Though the shots I could not block
And on and on the bullets poured
Further into the fray I bored
Each foot a cinderblock
Weighed by war
I slowly walked
Tick Tock
Tick Tock
How I'd make it answer for
Alas
With little blood left to speak for Desperately I implored
"Restrain your hands that caused such gore;
We need not fight evermore!"
But when I heard the ceaseless knock
Tick tock
Tick tock
I new my words had been ignored
And slowly collapsed to the floor
****** and bludgeoned when I hit bed rock, I had still found no clock
But tick and tock it had forgot
The church bell rang t'was 12 o'clock,
Though mortal wounds the seconds wrought
I no longer was distraught
And as I lay in the hemlock
It occurred in my last thoughts
I would miss the beating knock
tick..., tock...
tick..., tock...
Mar 28, 2016
Mar 28, 2016 at 9:04 PM UTC
When Technology died,
some of us merely shrugged and
Tried to go back to before...
Only it wasn't the same...
So many hard-wirings gone,
So many places where we used to go,
So many thoughts we used to know,
Forgotten in an ethereal swirl...
Internetted and forgotten.
Power plants done, and no more juice
To feed along the sagging wires.
Once the Internet went down,
(Without so much as a diminishing blip
Of dying light (cathodes were gone)),
Ah, Lord, we missed the ethereal glow...
Screens now dead and flat,
Unable even to reminisce
The comfort-glow of former irritants,
The fuzziness 0f electronic snow....
And telephones! My Lord!
To think of how we used to talk!
Electronic prayers, each other we implored...
So much connected,
We forgot the depths of face to face,
Now cellular paperweights lie dormant,
Longing for at least a little life,
Reminding us those days are gone.
We pass our little news
Word of mouth now,
Word of mouth to ear,
Only if the ones
We want to know are near.
May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 11:41 PM UTC
Swept in on the sixth of the first
Icy winds sluiced on dripping fleecy snow showers
I saw a raging storm coming with vile foreboding nursed
Staple in peace in love in goodwill laid a fitting banquet for all hours
Rewards for toil and strive in minds attuned and goodness versed
I knelt supplicant before my Lord
Laid my just heart bare and without fear or dread
laid a ringing vow as in warmth or bellowing thundering cold
I rest in the forethought I am girded to sail sun's flames un thread
For no blooded being can justly state I harmed or injured in my fold
I will walk this vale of tears
Meet with demons and the ****** of the outer worlds
Face the volcanoes in hell and shame blazing red lava ingots
I will not cower before deadly serpents or baulk at icy frozen walls
If I fall I will stand again an again till God's time uneaten by maggots
I implored my Faithful Lord
Take me down grind and cast me asunder and bereft
If this be ordained that an innocent soul pays an unjust price
The darkest storm has raged wild and furious a depraved joy theft
My God upholds me and holds that truths and honesty never a vice
[email protected].
Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 5:34 PM UTC
Asleep alone
I got the light scare
Of a nightmare
With my plight there
Which wouldn't fight fair
Awake awaits
Chirping is all I hear
Dragging life into focus
Getting the lens clear
To see things are hopeless
My aches and pains
Are my body's refrain
To remind me of existence
Despite my mental resistance
I am lucid
I take my shoelace
And loop it
To run a new race
Timidly trembling
The violence in my dreams
Matches the silence and screams
That defile us and our team
Making the nightmares real
And the pain I can feel
So it's love I steal
A devil's deal
Hell unsealed
I can hear the vultures chirping
Or maybe they're just burping
Out the demons I ignored
My forgiveness they implored
To meet a silent scorn
Like a muted tribal horn
Banishing them to another realm
With my ostracism at the helm
Until the lonely are overwhelmed
And I see the error of my ways
Once I'm part of this chaotic haze
Practically paralyzed
I am lost
In this game
I've met the boss
He and I the same
He is a voice
Chirping in my ear
Saying I have no choice
I should give in to fear
And just drink beer
Until the end is here
Carelessly comatose
The birds that once sang beautifully
Now retreat dutifully
When they see my thoughtless anger
Turn me into a ruthless stranger
Creating danger
For those living righteously
They start fighting me
Trying to enlighten me
Which is only exciting me
Because I lack the sight to see
What the world could be
If we could harmonize
Like the birds
Not using argent lies
But soothing words
Yet there is no tax exemption
For my reluctant redemption
So my mind invented
No incentive
Soul slaughtered
The tear jerking
Birds chirping
Constantly remind me
Inside my sleep they find me
Thrusting me into a life unwinding
Through my window the sun is blinding
When I start to fear my brother
After seeing mirrors in others
Reflecting my attitude
Of ingratitude
I had a nasty nightmare
Of Camp Crystal Lake
Filled with misfit flakes
Paying for their mistakes
With pain and suffering
As deep as a submarine
Being torn apart
For every decision
Hiding their heart
To avoid incisions
And once all these losers are slain
The birds chirping start a new day
Jun 29, 2018
Jun 29, 2018 at 4:14 AM UTC
When they said they maybe coming home
so many hearts implored
and as they celebrated
I was distracted by
All the balloons flying high in the sky
Feb 14, 2013
Feb 14, 2013 at 5:02 PM UTC
I found you
on page 119, of the sacred tome
the only sin, to slay the fine fowl
called mockingbird--why blue jays were fair game
remains mystery to me, but I trust thee,
Ms Lee, to have writ the grand truth
though when I look to the skies,
or in the flush of leaves in my oak,
I find only mourning dove, robins
and a plain sparrow or two, all hiding,
from sinners, in the soft rain
they would not heed my words
no matter how earnestly
implored
"stay behind the branches,
do not move a feather,
words cannot protect you;
when the rains stop, those
with sharp eye and cold heart
will rob you of flight and light "
and then I awake,
to a bright sun, to realize
there has been no rain and the slaughter
has continued all along
Aug 9, 2014
Aug 9, 2014 at 4:51 PM UTC
Twice amongst the meadows watching
from behind a Cyprus tree
he stares at thee with anxious waiting
glances nervous as he yearns for thee.
Twice amongst the meadows walking
plucking blossoms as they bloom
release from capsules such a fragrance
that make the glorious angels swoon.
He tasted bitter poppy petals
chewed to paste they cling and swell
to the innards of his teeth
each tiny bud they do expel.
grass and sun combine to create
an early summers reckoning
that bring about the union of
springs infant buds to bring to she.
From behind his hiding place
he comes to thee with frail mutterings
coyly he presents an antidote
to cure your failing frame.
As that maiden swoons from fever
pale as winter's deadly moon
fight she does for every swallow
that comes from each shallow breath.
Indeed her lover knows her sickness
and with ointment doth he bring
but to late he comes to aid her
for he is a timid thing.
In his arms she breaths her last
and with her dying plea
she implored as to why
he withheld his love from she.
Oct 21, 2010
Oct 21, 2010 at 10:48 AM UTC
In my absence
My mind has been doing back-flips,
back-spins and hand-springs.
They really should be called head-springs.'
Off a spring board I began vaulting.
Trying to spin, tumble, turn des pairs
of thoughts stuck in the landing area
Threw a little french in there for ya.
Grasping at hysteria asymmetrically with sanity
must be stronger than anxiety. Like a glass coat, it blankets me
however you can see to the core, translucent rings of a tree.
Walking the balance beam
between life and suicide sporadically.
Being pushed on both sides by a jet stream
Surviving is a pipe dream because we are all dying.
Once again I am on the floor. However,
I am implored to look forward by poetic neighbors.
All I gotta do is knock on their door and they'll gladly give me a cup of esprit de corps.
More french, Au revoir
May 17, 2013
May 17, 2013 at 3:44 PM UTC
*Expletives are explored
Requisites are implored
Grooming artificial intelligence!*
Bharti
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 10:56 PM UTC
*I gave her the permission to uproot you whole from my Heart, however painful, however unfair it feels
because I believe I've waited enough...
I've waited until I've reached the end of my patience
where holding on is no longer a valid option...
I love you so much but sometimes true love is just knowing
when to let go,when however firm one grips to the past,
nothing changes and nothing ever will...
I gave her a go ahead to pluck the memories leaf by leaf
from the wonderful hello to the sour goodbye,
it isn't an easy process and I'm only going through it
because dreaming of us together is telling myself a lie...
I once preferred (to living without you) rather to die
and picturing back to those times makes me want to cry
I have to forget you...
I've allowed her to cut the logs of hope right from the root system
so that whatever I feel for you should whither instead of bloom..
I've charged her with nursing my wounds till they are cured
and collecting the smithereens you left behind
I've implored her to bear with me till the raw and tender love
I feel for her has matured,till the memories of you have disappeared
It's really hard on her...it's killing her, it's written on her face
how difficult it is to fill the emptiness in this place
to heal the wounds, to warm the cold and stitch the cuts
she's trying to submerge it but through her smile
I can see the melancholy and how much it actually hurts
that's why I'm sure she's willing to go an extra mile...
she's blistered and really hurting but most of all
she's cutting and cutting and cutting...
because I gave her the duty to complete our parting.*
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 9:09 AM UTC
I saw you on the news again, aiming lies at civilians
You work like a serf to abhor the herd, which was merged by Lords to bore and encore, like a trap door in a dungeon.
What you earth and managed has got me famished, like the dense or pretentious, the meek and the senseless
And type endings to the finest that cry less, the winos that digress, or the shyest who digest
The plate which was purchased, paid to feed liars by the loudest were poisoned by us rebels running incense to the proudest.
Violently passive when distracted, these masses wreck havoc to have their heads handed to them
Sullen sweet to deter, you lure and reserve what is versed or inferred or implied or implored
Like the goodbyed or complied or the ladies waiting with lunacy lining their luxury gowns
Your disheveled and neat demanding appearance has me locked down with pirates and principle pilots
Dulled sick, they spy less, echo with insist, enlist and exist
As terrorists and presidents
Marked with malice making misfits that were mocked and disgraced, maced or laced by daydreams and magicians to assist beggars behind blueprints constructing islands
Which make slaves in to riots that capture journalists under wide tense
To suspend or impend doom sent hell bent by your priestess
You conduct chaos with fast hints, but quit slow when engaged with your conscience
Touched by divine tricks
Decided and destined, best in business
Prince of the wise man
Captain of the compassionate
Comrades with the crack heads singing anthems in kingdoms
We are heartbreakers painting bad graffiti
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 12:07 AM UTC
A grimoire of nuptials apporting
The implored cadaverous knight
Securing obsequious omens
Stirring the sleeping metals of
Chaste belladonna, glistening
Elf-locks entangled with Hellweed
Vowing until the golden bowl is broken
Clasping the devils paintbrush promising
Before the garrulous black mass
Leering upon Vulcans mirror
Cursing the covenant of faithfulness
With a moonstone band
Evoking a vixens wedding
Sealing with Adams holy ale
Their oath as the belfry rings
Resounding admist white sepulchre.
ELEETE J MUIR.
Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 9:00 AM UTC
Being ignored by someone you adored is a lot like hell
Being implored by someone you abhorred sounds swell
Jun 28, 2023
Jun 28, 2023 at 10:24 PM UTC
i.
Certes, where wouldst I be, without the visitant who visited me, hallow and calefacient is mine sweet. Her camaca flaxen brown far east bisayan covering, like the wind upon her bones; Cling's on to wing's crystalline, hovering.
ii.
Many callisteias doth she hath, even in her most burdened of day's, light echoes the wall's of her laugh. Her nacre eyne, as a naos doth garnish the sign; spelling "ángelos mou".
iii.
I phlebotomized pond's of despair's tether's, I implored God for the mate of mine soul; even pictured this vasílissa in mine pounding blood's fetters. Thus one moment, in death's valley, undeservingly the Trinity whom always was and is; gifted me mine other-half, the woman from Asia's tribal secrets, the one with a aureole surrounding her chest.
iv.
Now, after generation's of awaiting, just to touch her luminescence I won't tire, nor debate the timing; for all
Cometh in good time, I just thanketh mine Yahweh.
For its his daughter he didst send, thus me didst he
Openeth mine eyen. O' blest divine, O' blest divine.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley ( àgapi mou) Dedication
Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 7:06 PM UTC
Dylan is dead.
no, not Bob, you Philistine,
Dylan Thomas who implored us
to rage against the night;
so are a passel of poets
and penners, but not I
Emily heard her fly buzz,
well before her eyes shut; she
was a wee bit obsessed
with the reaper
Hemingway's also a goner;
guts enough to shove a shotgun
in his mouth--mostly I wonder if
he tasted blue gunmetal like I did,
and who cleaned his brains
off the wall?
nobody had to clean a red dollop
of mine, for the firing pin was askew
and all I got was a click, and a sense of shame,
and impotence more flaccid than
the one which put the barrel
in my mouth
hell, how hard is it
to **** yourself--I guess harder
than I thought, since I never bought
another rifle
so Dylan is dead
Em and Hem too, but you
are reading these lines without
contemplating your own demise
I suspect
after all, it's early spring
and a time of new things
clawing their way into the light
thinking nothing of the terminal
night -- but it's just a sun dip away:
ask Dylan or Hemingway, or even JFK
but I wouldn't bother the Belle
of Amherst
she would make parting
sweeter than sorrow, and she
never tasted the cold lead, or spoke
with fear or dread of the dumb
and the dead
she never murdered
men in black pajamas
in a forest primeval...
I didn't see their spirits
ascending, in ribbons of light,
only rivers of their red blood
soaking the green ground,
yet today ravenous
for more it seems
why would she rage
against the good night, when
her carriage waited patiently for her,
and immortality, her vessel bound
for a light Dylan and I
will never see
May 4, 2017
May 4, 2017 at 6:42 PM UTC
Most late summer days fade into night holding a tepid dreariness in their breath, beating away with the tedium of the sun from late July through early September.
Yet ephemeral as it may be, the life of early summer is purely sanguine in the face of its oncoming age, as willowy saplings sway in the blustering breezes of June, and sprouts of vivid animation appear all around.
This is when the soul heals, and out of the mulch rises new beginnings and the ripening fruit of various works.
In this early season of summer, many taciturn inhabitants of the flourishing earth made their home, and among them, Lily: a creature of reticence and intricacy.
She burgeoned in attitude and character as days crept forward, extending her limbs upwards in an eternal paean to the heavens― as such was her sinecure and quiet delight.
In this, she stood insular to her ubiquitous family, an outsider to the sisters who flitted about carelessly on the wind, satiny gowns of pink and yellow billowing as they twirled.
Always invited into the fray, Lily was evermore stalwart in her choice to keep out of their plainly sordid affairs.
Yet in her isolation, the night whispered to her many a berceuse.
The sleepy stars implored of Lily’s indolent nature as she gazed into their eyes, trailing across eternity into peaceful slumber.
The night sky held wonders and questions that filled her paltry existence but placed her in stasis with the decorated heavens of her dying season,
Left to wither away with the insidious heat and vibrant splendor of late summer evenings.
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 2:45 PM UTC
the orphanage's walls
tell a story grim
what went on inside of them
so disturbing
up to twenty children kept in one room
crammed in so tight
together they huddled
both by day and by night
the children's elfin frames
deprived of proper nourishing food
their eyes had within them
little of love's light
they cried incessantly
a cry which implored
someone to deliver them from
the wall's fright
stale ***** and excrement pervaded the air
the odor hovered in their despair
the institutes cleanliness
lacking of hygiene
not much was kept
too well cleaned
these children
shall be impaired for life
for they were caged in a warehouse
of diabolical neglect
by the Romanian authorities
as you tuck your children into bed
tonight
give a thought
for a child devoid
of benevolent sunlight
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 11:09 PM UTC
Calm and cosy
Curled up in my cotton tomb,
Transported back to the womb,
Where I dreamt endlessly.
There I smelt my life
Imminent, timid,
But ****** and vivid;
Here it is different
And deadly.
My life reeks of decay
As it burns away;
I taste the ash of my lungs,
Anaesthetised, desensitized,
Stupefied and condemned.
Scorched by conflagration,
Numbed by smoke,
But I do not choke
Just sleep
And keep on dreaming.
My cotton tomb ablaze,
A-kindle and consuming,
Collapses while still fuming,
Swallows me as I slumber
Or so I thought.
My maid she came a-wandering,
A-wondering,
And saw me here a-slumbering
In my cotton tomb of fire.
I felt her drown my death,
Extinguish Hell,
Restore my breath,
And I awoke in a fit of passion,
‘Deuce take me, what has happened?’
The timid creature,
Like newborn life,
Stood trembling, as well as I,
But told the tale
From start to end.
I implored of her
To not say a word;
The events of which have occurred
Are our secret –
Instead I enclosed her in my arms
As rapture seized me in its jaws,
Dragged me back from Death’s door
And threw me at her feet.
I praised her long
My preserver, my protection,
Then let her shivering form go
In the wake of my affection.
Jun 18, 2012
Jun 18, 2012 at 3:39 PM UTC
I’m not sure what implored me to put the picture as my centerfold.
Of that I’m sure I’ll never know.
Instead, I just did. No questions asked.
Though the picture had always perturbed me in a slight, quiet way, it was something that my father prided enough.
Why should I not pride it as well?
Besides, my wife said it really “tied the room together”.
I told her that I still didn’t understand that phrase,
But that’s neither here nor there.
Every day, I passed that painting on the way out the door,
And on the way back in to the heart of my home.
My wife and I embraced a multitude of times
in front of our deer-headed ******
In his suit, painted onto that canvas, framed with gold leaf
That shined just so, when the sun hit it.
And I’ll always remember that my father left it for me
When he died.
Me specifically.
I inherited the deer head, and the body of a businessman.
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 12:51 AM UTC
1180
“Remember me” implored the Thief!
Oh Hospitality!
My Guest “Today in Paradise”
I give thee guaranty.
That Courtesy will fair remain
When the Delight is Dust
With which we cite this mightiest case
Of compensated Trust.
Of all we are allowed to hope
But Affidavit stands
That this was due where most we fear
Be unexpected Friends.
2k
in the darkness of the night so deep,
i wondered why your heart won't sleep,
my soul spoke up, a question sown,
to your heart's mystery, unknown
stars above, they twinkle bright,
but your heart hides in endless night,
my soul implored, with a gentle start,
why's your heart, dear, keeping apart?
Jul 30, 2023
Jul 30, 2023 at 4:24 PM UTC
4 am child awakened from sleep
By my father gently shaking my shoulder
It did not matter that my sisters
Had declined first
I, the youngest, was about
To inherit an honor
To go alone in the boat, just dad and I
To Little Swan Lake, about 3 miles from home
A familiar place very different in this light
Night sounds and odours distilled
He lowered the boat into the water
And extended his hand to help me climb inside
Looking around me, this darkness was new
Enchanted silence was new and
It did not take long to recognize
That I liked it that way
Soft rowing carried us
To the center of the lake
Where quietly drifting
He introduced me
To the space
Where humans were asleep
And nature claimed you as her own
Smoothing words with his hand
He implored me to be still
As he gave me the gift
of Solitude
An hour passed as we listened
To the rhythm of water
The voices of fish
And the depths of our thoughts
Our eyes exchanged sadness
When other boats crept in
Knowing soon, daylight would waken
The sleeping dogs and invaders
And we would no longer be alone
In our nest of idealists
Did he know
How I worshipped his every action?
That every word he spoke has molded my character?
His humility would never have boasted of such
Which is all the more reason to want to be like him
Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 6:03 PM UTC
How to start off this poem?
The words they don’t come easy,
Nothing sounds quite right.
I've done so many terrible things,
How can I possibly expect you to relate?
It is impossible it's a dream, but here we go anyways.
I believe this to be my destiny, my fate,
Even though every action is mine.
So when I tell you this story, please try to understand…
That you can’t.
Beginning under a starless sky,
With the orange glow man creates for night.
I fly on the wings of the innocent,
The blood and tears of those who… have died.
They fuel me, and feed me. With their pain, with their face.
I walked down that road,
On the wings of a satan.
And all those around me,
Smiled and puked.
And oh, the terror in her eyes,
When at last my journey reached its conclusion.
My eyes, although they are not quite eyes,
Bored deeply into hers,
And the pools of water parted for just a second,
And I could see my own reflection.
So… intense. So… lost.
I’ve been in snowstorms at sub-zero,
With more warmth than those not quite eyes.
Every beat of my heart, and every breath I took,
Implored me not to think,
But to **** in my just agony,
But think of the lies that would create.
I had been looking so long, so hard,
Just to **** the one thing I want to save.
This woman, in her intelligent innocence,
Pure as the blackest coal,
Born for me, as I was her.
Who challenged me at last, at first,
Not to slay, not to slaughter.
At first I laughed, in a bitter theatric…
But as it settled and tears created disaster…
She held me there, in her hairless arms,
Cooing and creating a space for banter.
I am almost as confused as you are.
Speaking so honestly…
I didn’t know what to do then or now either.
But I will say one last thing,
Something you may not want to hear.
On that cool winter night, I ate her.
Apr 1, 2010
Apr 1, 2010 at 4:36 PM UTC
Jumping high,
She stretched with all her might
Fingers passing inches below
The first firefly of the night
It flew deep into the woods
She chased it far into the night
But she was not afraid
Following that firefly's bright light
In fits and bursts,
It grew dim, then bright
And as it led, she fearlessly ran
Deeper and deeper, into the twilight
The night grew darker
But the firefly brighter
The girl ran on as,
The forest grew quieter
This part of the woods
She had never explored
"Come follow me, follow me"
Her beacon implored
She followed yet further
The beasts of the forest grew near
But still she followed
And felt no fear
A last turn she was led on,
Then onto a beach
A pond, long held secret
She stopped, flushed as a peach
Soon she had to go back
With her the firefly stayed
To light up her soul
And forever brighten her days
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 9:29 PM UTC
She was the epitome of a good girl
Funny, cool and the best friend ever
She was smart too , never falling victim to their lies
Always precluding hurt and pain
but she had always craved something real
that thing called love
she no longer wanted to elude all the pain and pleasures that came along with it
so she waited patiently for her knight to come
to rescue her from the state of 'forever alone'
and he did come, he was literally what every girl wanted
when they were together , gravity no longer existed
his very presence made her high
when they kissed , megawatts of electricity and passion flowed through their veins
But soon he started to withdraw from her
He recoiled as if she was dangerous to his wellbeing
everything went downhill for them
she implored him to talk to her, to work things out
after all when you love someone , you just dont give up on them
but he refused and they grew apart
she borne this for a while but the pain became too much
and it all went up in flames
he said he needed time to himself , to figure things out
all the pressures in his life were too much and he needed time and space
he said maybe they would get back together....
she put on a brave face and said goodbye
it exhausted her inside , she tried so hard not to cry
and so she said sorry to every cracked branch and leaf she passed
because she now knew how it felt to be stepped on even after you were broken
the pain still lingers , minutes to hours , hours to days
It is really true when they say nothing gold can stay.
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 4:56 PM UTC