"instructed" poems
Lisbeth stands watching
The artist as he prepares
To sketch. Her elder sisters
Stand in shadows whispering.
Her younger sister plays
With her doll on the floor.
Their father said to do as
The artist instructed and
Don’t misbehave or be rude.
The artist stares hard his
Dark eyes searching their
Every move and expression
And body gesture. The elder
Girls mutter in shadows
Their hands over their mouths
Their blue eyes like shallow
Pools. Ready? The artist
Asks putting charcoal to
Paper his fingers blackening.
Lisbeth says just as we are?
The artist nods. His grim
Features express do not disturb.
The youngest sister plays
Ignoring the artist her eyes set
On the game at hand. The girls
In shadow turn their profiles
Set to mystery their hands on
Their abdomens like guardians
Of virtue. Lisbeth wonders as
She watches the artist’s stiff
Moustache and beard the slow
Movement of his mouth as he
Mouths words and stares hard.
The last artist employed some
Year before younger and less
Brutal in expression and manner
Had drawn them each in private
Rooms and set them down on couch
Or bed and kept their images inside
His head. He was dismissed and the
Drawings destroyed and nothing said.
Lisbeth had thought it just a game
Something done as lover might in
Private corners or lonely spots on
Quiet nights. The artist sketches.
His blackened fingers move and
Made their mark. Their images
Captured. The scene set. One sister
In the shadows yawns the other
Stares in still contempt. Lisbeth
Poses as young girls do. Nothing
To show of interest and nothing
Hid no secret self no other you.
That’s it the artist says we’ll begin
The painting another day maybe
Next week if all is well. The girls
In shadow look away and resume
Their secret games. Lisbeth studies
The artist’s blackened fingers as
He rolls the charcoal sketch and
Puts away. He gazes at her standing
By herself a glimpse of smile and
Glimmer in her eyes like small fires.
He closes the tired lids of eyes
And smoulders down his old desires.
Apr 19, 2012
Apr 19, 2012 at 8:26 AM UTC
I
The Nutcrackers sate by a plate on the table,
The Sugar-tongs sate by a plate at his side;
And the Nutcrackers said, 'Don't you wish we were able
'Along the blue hills and green meadows to ride?
'Must we drag on this stupid existence for ever,
'So idle so weary, so full of remorse,--
'While every one else takes his pleasure, and never
'Seems happy unless he is riding a horse?
II
'Don't you think we could ride without being instructed?
'Without any saddle, or bridle, or spur?
'Our legs are so long, and so aptly constructed,
'I'm sure that an accident could not occur.
'Let us all of a sudden hop down from the table,
'And hustle downstairs, and each jump on a horse!
'Shall we try? Shall we go! Do you think we are able?'
The Sugar-tongs answered distinctly,'Of course!'
III
So down the long staircase they hopped in a minute,
The Sugar-tongs snapped, and the Crackers said 'crack!'
The stable was open, the horses were in it;
Each took out a pony, and jumped on his back.
The Cat in a fright scrambled out of the doorway,
The Mice tumbled out of a bundle of hay,
The brown and white Rats, and the black ones from Norway,
Screamed out, 'They are taking the horses away!'
IV
The whole of the household was filled with amazement,
The Cups and the Saucers danced madly about,
The Plates and the Dishes looked out of the casement,
The Saltcellar stood on his head with a shout,
The Spoons with a clatter looked out of the lattice,
The Mustard-pot climbed up the Gooseberry Pies,
The Soup-ladle peeped through a heap of Veal Patties,
And squeaked with a ladle-like scream of surprise.
V
The Frying-pan said, 'It's an awful delusion!'
The Tea-kettle hissed and grew black in the face;
And they all rushed downstairs in the wildest confusion,
To see the great Nutcracker-Sugar-tong race.
And out of the stable, with screamings and laughter,
(Their ponies were cream-coloured, speckled with brown,)
The Nutcrackers first, and the Sugar-tongs after,
Rode all round the yard, and then all round the town.
VI
They rode through the street, and they rode by the station,
They galloped away to the beautiful shore;
In silence they rode, and 'made no observation',
Save this: 'We will never go back any more!'
And still you might hear, till they rode out of hearing,
The Sugar-tongs snap, and the Crackers say 'crack!'
Till far in the distance their forms disappearing,
They faded away.--And they never came back!
4.4k
Prepared to your liking
Trussed and bound
For you, I wait
Palms up, knees apart
Positioned just for you
Spine posed straight
Your approval means all
Rewarding by far
Pleasing you my pleasure
As instructed
Ready, willing
My master, my treasure
Jun 17, 2016
Jun 17, 2016 at 9:56 PM UTC
A simple army of ants
in silent cooperation and unity,
quickly work side-by-side -
Setting an example for humanity.
From Scriptural advice
we're instructed to observe
the behavior of these insects
and see value from learning to serve.
Achieving the colony's purpose
and focusing on its common mission,
labor is given for the greater good
via its natural instinct of unison.
For much can be accomplished
from sharing like mindedness
whenever the unified Body reaches...
Towards Jehovah's divine holiness.
Author Notes:
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
Sep 13, 2012
Sep 13, 2012 at 11:45 AM UTC
Under attack once again
From those who make themselves available to him
By now one would think I'd be use to it
He knows my weakest link
How to distress me
He knows who to send to me and when
Who is vulnerable and who is not
Whoever allows themselves to be used as a pawn
Surely shall get used
No deposit required
While payback awaits
Most are used unknowingly
Driven to say and do as if instructed by an invisible force
Blinded not by the light
But rather by the darkness
However there is a weapon to be used
A weapon that will and can disarm
To master the art of knowing from whence it comes
Then to ignore it
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 8:03 AM UTC
How wise I am to have instructed the butler
to instruct the first footman to instruct the second
footman to instruct the doorman to order my carriage;
I am about to volunteer a definition of marriage.
Just as I know that there are two Hagens, Walter and Copen,
I know that marriage is a legal and religious alliance entered
into by a man who can't sleep with the window shut and a
woman who can't sleep with the window open.
Moreover, just as I am unsure of the difference between
flora and fauna and flotsam and jetsam,
I am quite sure that marriage is the alliance of two people
one of whom never remembers birthdays and the other
never forgetsam,
And he refuses to believe there is a leak in the water pipe or
the gas pipe and she is convinced she is about to asphyxiate
or drown,
And she says Quick get up and get my hairbrushes off the
windowsill, it's raining in, and he replies Oh they're all right,
it's only raining straight down.
That is why marriage is so much more interesting than divorce,
Because it's the only known example of the happy meeting of
the immovable object and the irresistible force.
So I hope husbands and wives will continue to debate and
combat over everything debatable and combatable,
Because I believe a little incompatibility is the spice of life,
particularly if he has income and she is pattable.
2.9k
we got a goldfish,
for my little boy.
a tank, some coloured grit, three plants not two,
must practise goldfish fung shu.
all the water testing guff
and of course a filter.
a sunken ship
and a treasure chest .
we paid the pirate...
and took our ***** home.
so we set Bruce.
( for that was the name chosen).
up in pride of place on sidboard.
the list, above,
was positioned after meetings of commision. water tested to the highest degree,
filter fizzing, wizzing,whirring.
Bruce swam in his bag
in the tank,
for a time as instructed.
then released to a slightly larger freedom.
he swam and swam,
golden scales a flickerin.
we, (that being, mr just about three and his dad)
fed him, watched him poo, and eventually,
read Bruce,
a bedtime tale or two.
one fish, two fish by Dr Suess went down a treat.
the little man then,
was bundled off to bed.
thoughts of Bruce left our heads.
the evening lengthened.
we retired to sleep the sleep, of ignorance it conspired.
for in our planning we forgot one thing.
a devon rex cat,
who has a bath weekly,
a penchant for tuna,
no top to the tank.
so we thank the lord
for Bruce. however,
brief was his reign.
now we introduce
to you....
Murtle the turtle
who has a glass pane,
sitting above her head.
just in case......
the cat likes, turtle soup.
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 12:07 AM UTC
And they cast the man as the one
who gets brought down by dogs.
When he met the director,
the man said, "I'm the son of a veterinarian."
"I guess we should give you a speaking part."
So in the snow, behind the pines, with three
cameras on him, the man was brought down
by dogs, and instead of falling silently,
he was allowed to shout "no."
Despite the open air, his call was shrill.
Despite his vessel of flesh, his voice pinged
as if encased in metal.
The director, unnerved, instructed
the man to do the scene again.
"Try shouting 'why.' "
The man's cap was off.
Snow flew from the strands
of his hair. A dog chewed
on his forearm.
And he said, "Why."
Despite his vessel of flesh, his voice fell flat, muffled--
not by limb, not by nature, but as if covered by a blanket of wool,
like a child playing ghost in a winter living room.
The director took the man aside.
"What's wrong?"
The man had never seen a person die.
He'd never even seen a dog die, although
he'd seen plenty arranged in violence shortly
thereafter.
"Nothing," the man said.
"Die naturally this time."
"Alright."
On the third take, one of the dogs tore
into his cheek. The puncture was quick, clean.
"I want to die," the man said, "but not like this."
"Louder," the director said.
"I want to die but not like this."
"What was that?"
"I want to die but not like this."
The dogs lapped at his blood.
One of the camera men came in close.
The man went limp, hoping it would end
the take.
Dec 11, 2013
Dec 11, 2013 at 12:22 PM UTC
*WHEN I first discovered the *"BEND IN THE RIVER" * , , , I had No Idea what was in store for those who BELIEVE There's a LOT more to this Flesh and Blood Body than Meets the Eye!! IT'S a Brand New World, , , That I've been instructed to "SHARE" with those who also believe *That the SPIRIT given to us,,ALLOWS "ADVENTURES" beyond explanation. "For Example"; I uncovered a Mystery that has been kept from man for Centuries!! "Such As Follows". Am I a fool to fish with an Unbaited hook?? Even though I did Caste it out "Very Far". Will the FLASHING of it being Retrieved ever so FAST, be enough to Attract the Hungriest of Those Looking for a New treat? What,Oh What could be a "BETTER BAIT" than that which I reeled in at a "Break-Neck" speed?? Was there No Deliciousness coming Off that Rapid return? PERHAPS,,a Tasty Morsel, a Yummy TidBit be attached to the very Tip.. AND * YES Put below a Cork about 30"ABOVE!! YES,,Gently,, Persuasively,, Moving in the Smooth currents of "LIFE"!!! Is this "BETTER BAIT" always available? * I BETTER "RUSH" TO FIND OUT!! "Are YOU with me??"
Sep 14, 2010
Sep 14, 2010 at 3:38 AM UTC
Doctor and Mrs Granger
took Mrs Thrift to the zoo
she was captivated by the antics
of the Zambian gnu
Doctor Granger took a photo of her
outside the lion's cage
he instructed Mrs Thrift not to upset
the lion as he'd go into a rampage
Mrs Granger was going to make a cup of tea
for all of them on their return
but she couldn't boil the water
as there was no water for the urn
the electrical pump on the water storage tank
had blown up
so there was no water at the Granger compound
to fill the tea cups
as soon as I heard about the water pump
at the Granger compound
I phoned Major Rogers
to bring his electrical repair kit around
he took a little over an hour and a half
to fix the ailing pump
so we'd be able to have a cup tea
whilst sitting on the tree stumps
next week there will be a recess
from the Granger tale
as the writer is going to take care
of her mountain load of mail
she appreciates the many good reviews
of the Granger series
and thinks that the fans of the said series
are a lovely lot of old dearies
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 8:51 AM UTC
326
I cannot dance upon my Toes—
No Man instructed me—
But oftentimes, among my mind,
A Glee possesseth me,
That had I Ballet knowledge—
Would put itself abroad
In Pirouette to blanch a Troupe—
Or lay a Prima, mad,
And though I had no Gown of Gauze—
No Ringlet, to my Hair,
Nor hopped to Audiences—like Birds,
One Claw upon the Air,
Nor tossed my shape in Eider *****
Nor rolled on wheels of snow
Till I was out of sight, in sound,
The House encore me so—
Nor any know I know the Art
I mention—easy—Here—
Nor any Placard boast me—
It’s full as Opera—
2.2k
*i had a broken toy box full of broken toys
flotsam and jetsam of a childhood
filled with playthings shattered and forgotten
in later years I would open that dusty
chest filled with dusty remnants of happier times and weep
for the friends I had left behind
shattered chunks of preformed plastic that
kept me safe when
barely out of diapers my Nuclear Family went
nuclear
lead paint and lawn darts
loose pieces and lost innocence
i learned the value of love through
spending time with cast off friends
i learned the value of respect through
seeing the pieces of the stickers that I
tore off my spider-man helicopter immediately
after
my mother and father in their last
act of love as a couple spent hours
placing them exactly as
instructed
i did not learn that one day i would
be a dusty old cast off toy in someone elses
box of broken pieces
in that world
toys are replaced before their
time
broken not by love and use but by throwing
them against the wall in a tantrum looking for
the next
shiny
new
thing*
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 2:31 AM UTC
They gave me a name that didn’t suit me.
What’s funny is
the universe recognized that
before I did.
She paid me this compliment:
*“There’s too much person to you.
You can’t be tripped up with so many
syllables in something so trivial as a name.
Less speaking, more breathing,”* she said.
Four reduced to two.
Now I can exist in half the time.
I became “Bitsy.”
Which means I’m associated
with certain things.
Mainly tiny spiders
and brightly pattered swimwear.
It’s easy to be irked by that, you know.
Yet, I smile and take it,
because they raised me
with the patience of an idiot.
I get automatic cute points
just for introducing myself with a name like this.
Newcomers get giddy,
like hearing my name is equivalent
to receiving a box of kittens.
I always try to drop an expletive or two—
I just don’t want them
to get the wrong f#@%ing impression.
“Less speaking, more breathing.”
I instructed the universe
not to do me any more favors.
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 1:55 PM UTC
Aliens
They have no notion of past or present,
everything is about oceans.
When they ask for you
it is really a story about seeing the ocean.
VISITOR #1:
Listen. It is failure of bridges that builds angels.
GROCERY BAGGER/ COLLEGE STUDENT:
Is this the depression
we've all been experiencing?
VISITOR #4:
Please have a seat and forget the edge of that coast,
you were not intended for this distance.
GROCERY BAGGER/ COLLEGE STUDENT:
I believe we're all owed an explanation.
Where is this manifest?
I've never ridden a horse, I am being dreamed about.
VISITOR #1:
You would not believe
the stories redwoods have.
You each get one phone call.
GROCERY BAGGER/ COLLEGE STUDENT:
But the voicemail I've been trying to reach,
all morning,
is full.
"I dream of psychiatrists telling stories
about dreaming of women
they've seen in unedited videos on the internet.
Sometimes they save her from that burning nightclub."
VISITOR #2:
If you're going, leave your voice
somewhere in a room I know.
COLLEGE STUDENT:
We would have no need for phones if you didn't invent distance.
VISITOR #2:
There are trees that become stained with a purple blossom.
During summer the blossoms fall and shadow around the trunk
like a violet negative.
What a beautiful dimension that must be.
They pull her skirt down to examine the body,
palms pour from a sidewalk in L.A.,
everything is cracked-
"My god she's beautiful, huh?"
I think I met them before,
a long time ago.
THE MEMORY OF A VISITOR APPEARING IN A DREAM:
What happens next? Come the exit of electricity from the body;
on a long enough time-line all weather radicalizes and the people
will grow into trees.
You can read about that hollowness and never be prepared for it.
It’s like standing on the edge of an overpass,
and being completely empty of the urge to jump.
This is what I remember:
instructed to reenact creation
she throws clothes
from an open window above the 60 freeway.
"You have to imagine there are people,
surrounding you and talking"
Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 10:29 AM UTC
I turned it off
When I found out
Physical form meant more than
spiritual substance
When I found out that
Age matters when you have too much
Looks when you don’t have a certain one
When they meant something different
something estranged from my previous understanding
I know my body is not me
only a part
they wanted that part
without wanting only me
I turned it off
They all wanted something much less
far cheaper
than I am willing
was willing
to give
You do not understand the meaning when I say
you are beautiful
Namaste
Ashe
Amen
I turned it off
You are not able to fathom a comprehension when I say
I love you
Namaste
Ashe
Amen
I turned it off
Life has instructed
give it to self always
to the ones called family
the select few that are called friend
Show it to the world
but don’t let the world abuse it
But in that concentrated way
where two become one
I turned it off
Its disrespectful to the concept
for me to treat you according to the concept
when I see
when I know
before it all started
before your scent first touched the air
you have no awareness of the concept
There are about six degrees of separation from
what you think it is
what you thought it was
what you have been shown it to be
what you attempt to offer me
and that which it actually is
that which I was willing to offer you
I don’t believe there is a single one
there is the one you make it work with
That one
must also be willing and able to make it work with
you
For now
for me
you don’t exist
I realize now
you never did
square pegs forced into round holes
mistakes all listed above
I turned it off
Only a truly naked self
has any right
any ability
any authority
to turn it on.
© Christopher F. Brown 2013
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 4:08 PM UTC
Foster child of silence
What did you say?
You were always instructed to smile
It was a woman’s way
Your smile is corrugated
You eyes sheathed in despair
You yearn for a rush of happiness
You wear your masks expertly
Until your hidden emotions bleed
You pace and pray to make them go away
But you cannot stay sane in this facade
White padded walls embrace you
Until your soul is cut in two
You finally speak
But no one listens to you
No light on the horizon
Only darkness that ties you down
You don nakedness
You plant your feet in a potted tree
Hoping to go back to a place, safe and serene
Instead on the cusp of losing your mind
You hear voices calling out
Telling you that they love you
You look all around for them
But remain alone in the padded room
Your mental illness you cannot control
It is the monster in your heart that wants to let go
You gather your strength above no other
To put another mask of sanity on your face
You play your facade expertly
And you are released for a time
Until you become a danger to yourself or others again
Where is your gratitude?
Just for today
You have been given multiple chances
Of a second chance at life
Remove the lock and key from your soul
Seek help and slowly let the pain come
Don’t let it drown you
Some memories have been taken away by God
Other’s have endured with his assistance
But what is wisdom and life without trial
Begin to forgive and begin to heal
Let the dragons come head on
With your family by your side
You are not alone
Speak your voice or ink your pen
But do not be a victim
To the demons inside
Take off your running shoes
Go barefoot in earth’s paradise
Walk to the ends of the Earth
And God will kiss your blisters away
You will no longer be despondent
No longer suffocating in your silence
You will remain on the path to freedom
Break from the constant
Begin to live again
Free yourself
Find the courage and the voice
To say goodbye to the old demons
The harmony in your heart is your life giving force
Aug 2, 2010
Aug 2, 2010 at 7:51 AM UTC
Today while wandering through the prairies
I came across some fairies
An able-bodied man
With a run-down caravan
A dark-haired beauty
With golden hoops and eyes like the sea
At every shake of the tambourine she gave a little twirl
And they whispered, "Little girl
Let us teach you what we know
How to survive the most violent blow
How to ******
How to let loose
How to be as noble as a windmill
And humble as a hill
All this knowledge with you we'll share
This occasion is quite rare"
Well I couldn't tell if this was a dream
Or some sort of sneaky scheme...
But I consented, and the learning began
They instructed me faith, hope,
How to cope
With bullies and liars
They taught me desire,
True love and its fires
They preached me serenity
To relish being a child
Young, free and wild
I ignored their advice.
***** fairies.
They've got dirt beneath their nails
And grass in their grimy hair.
Jan 9, 2013
Jan 9, 2013 at 11:24 PM UTC
Truly, we are wonderful creatures,
drawn to light's undulating swells,
Sailors enthralled by the pushing sea's great shuddering
We honor these bright particles by our presence
Yet we burrow away, mole men and women for
Our most primal act, instinctual to the muscle
But still insulted by vanities.
(The consequence of consciousness,
I suppose) you instructed, "Turn off the last light"
Do you not wish to admire me?
The tender swell of brain and breast sloping to meet
Crags of hipbone jutting promiscuously below
the natural waist, natural beauty
Wasted by electricity's end
I want to take delight in your body, your ****** tongue
Quell the minor indiscretions of the day and
Give willingly to honesty
My ******* two moon over campus, your hand the sky.
If the peering leaves won't judge,
The least you can do is look me in the eye.
Dec 1, 2012
Dec 1, 2012 at 2:53 PM UTC
In darkness
I left you
was when your heart was slow
instructed by the western strand
'gather clothes and go.'
I missed you
this morning.
We moved from where we strayed,
slipping free of drunken vows
fevered flesh had made
Your soft,
small picture
commands me now to kneel,
deny the gods I knew before
and drop this broken shield.
I'll ask you
tomorrow,
'please cut this tender thread.
it bleeds and binds my all to you,
your body, and your bed.
That simple
small mercy
returns my broken life
where your kiss can never hurt me,
Orion fades from sight.'
I know how
you'll answer
'we are so lightly here,
it is in love that we are made,
in love we disappear'
too wise or
too simple,
it's either black or white.
Unhealed, I'll tear at stitches
bleed out this fatal life
Remember
years later
onto those soft lit eyes
your warm belly fluttered
in a melody
of sighs.
Then drowsy, low rain
will beat us
'till we float.
we'll drift through
wet desert
in a folded paper boat.
Jan 12, 2018
Jan 12, 2018 at 1:49 AM UTC
Parents are your first teachers;
But if they were permissive,
Teachers have rules they follow through on.
If parents were too strict,
Teachers cut you slack.
If you fall, they may or may not pick you up.
If you were abused, they will report it,
Despite all your objections.
If you've been excluded, you're now in a class.
If you're really smart, they'll show you how much there is to learn.
If you're struggling, they'll show you how to learn.
If you're afraid, stand beside a teacher.
If you're a bully, you will confront your victims.
If you're in doubt, they'll search you out.
If you're cocky, they'll trim your spurs.
If you're lonely, they have room.
If you need solitude, they have a room.
If you're in love, they know the season;
If you know hate, they know the feeling.
When you compete, they're in the seats.
When you're sad, or conflicted,
Teachers listen.
They taught Moses, Jesus and Mohamed,
Yes. Teachers beget teachers.
They instructed Socrates, Aristotle and Plato.
They put us in North America and on the moon.
They worked with Salk and Banting, Gates and Jobs.
Anyone can learn something.
They even taught our parents,
But not everyone learns.
Hey, Teachers, don't leave those kids alone!
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 8:58 AM UTC
The Professor instructed -
we can never know anything
outside of our own minds.
Yes, but...
It's reassuring to know
your love and tenderness
are not figments
of my imagination.
- fr
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 10:32 AM UTC
"This s.o.b. has got Tourette's.
Who knows what he might say? We'd better
Get him under before he rises.
Sterilize something fast!"
I'm awake for the time being. When sleep comes
I shall play the perfect display of my bacillus. Reposing
On the white table like a necrotic pieta. Off to my
Left I can hear those touchstones spinning in fine sockets,
Sterilizing my hands by binding my feet. Soon I will be
A paragon of grunting celluloid, clutched at by
Heated hearts to wrinkle and shear.
I can already taste the cleanser.
Rubber foam, steel clamp and tongue depressor.
Excise the black portions with a serrated life,
You might as well. Because it doesn't matter
How much morphine sits in the delirium drip.
I'm still alive: the crush and blink in Boris Karloff eyes.
When I gather up my self in the morning.
I will be instructed to take all Ten a day
And check in regularly. Despite the cold,
Despite the heat, the embryo has quite failed.
Mar 1, 2010
Mar 1, 2010 at 10:34 AM UTC
With my poetic words, I’m looking to breathe Life
into the souls and spirits of others to prevent…
the conditions that lead one to a spiritual Death;
with directness, my messages’ clarity is clear,
as instructed in the Great Commission from Christ.
Temptations of head-scratching, clutter, confusion
and being overly clever are avoided, when Biblical
references are supplied; hopefully, my personality
shines through, despite my analytical thinking and
my spiritual creativeness of expressing Salvation.
My idealized thoughts are evident and recognizable;
now most of my readers, can easily detect the sound
of my inward voice, with its straight-forwardness
and consistency. Finding a resonance of Faith, they
can identify and love poems… that are analyzable!
Sep 3, 2016
Sep 3, 2016 at 6:42 PM UTC