Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"intervened" poems
When the bakery was bought, For the sake of novelty, uniqueness, etc, Called it ‘bitter’ Laddu was bitter Jalebi ws bitter Cherry was bitter Bitter, bitter What bitterness, said people The servant got bitter Sir, There are no bill collectors to turn away Flies mock She at home Serves bitterness While sharing the alienation Which novelty and uniqueness supplied, With eatables, Biscuit said Let’s add the salt of tears, Eatables will not sell If bitter ‘Please give me something old” When the sound of a beggar Intervened Myself, who stood for novelty and uniqueness Told him ‘ you can have this bakery’
0
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 12:31 AM UTC
Bakery
New Orleans has its Oaks, the most beautiful in the world The Oaks they had an occupant, little squawky squirrel Squawky squirrel stepped out one day, cross the street he made his way And if he hadn’t changed his mind, he’d still be here today The widow sweet Ms. Peters, did receive a call From a handsome gentleman, who went by the name of Paul Ms. Peters had been interested, in Paul’s cautious advance But decided she would wait a while, not to take a chance Now Paul has found his one and only Ms. Peters spends her nights quite lonely Oh yes the case of the pretty pilot Just seventeen in a flying machine The weather turned black so she headed back But her boyfriend intervened Now close if I may - here's what I say Trust yourself - the odds break your way
0
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 2:35 PM UTC
The Often Disastrous Result of Changing Your Mind
The time was early or late - to us it's all the same/Our minds, a phone, two lovers alone and playing a lover's game. We had made a promise not to speak or write those special words/Instead we chose to circle around them like a pair of lonesome birds. Beyond all expectations we stayed true to our oath/Though in more ways than one it was torture to us both. The day of our meeting was the date we had chosen/To express our emotions and melt lips long frozen. But Life intervened and our plans were broken/Our love, it seemed, was not meant to be spoken. Yet still a call was made and the reason why was clear/My patience had run out weeks ago and I simply longed to hear. The melody of your voice and the thoughts in your head/And the rhythm of your breathing as you lay in your bed. It isn't long before we start to speak of our vow/Though every fiber of my being begs to say it now. Then a catch in your voice makes my ears perk up with glee/Could you desire to be first to say them to me? Somewhere a clock chimes loudly four times/While criminals are out committing their crimes. You become one of them as The Words leave your mouth/My love is now yours to take - North, East, West, and South. I'll change and grow but there is one thing I'll always do/And it's whatever it takes to hear you say "I Love You." For Jénay - My soulmate I love you honeybee
0
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 2:29 AM UTC
Hearing "I Love You"
At night-the light turned off, the filament Unburdened of its atom-eating charge, His wife asleep, her breathing dipping low To touch a swampy source-he thought of death. Her father's hilltop home allowed him time To sense the nothing standing like a sheet Of speckless glass behind his human future. He had two comforts he could see, just two. One was the cheerful fullness of most things: Plump stones and clouds, expectant pods, the soil Offering up pressure to his knees and hands. The other was burning the trash each day. He liked the heat, the imitation danger, And the way, as he tossed in used-up news, String, napkins, envelopes, and paper cups, Hypnotic tongues of order intervened.
0
5.9k
Burning Trash
There flows an  invisible, river of subtle emotions he felt, separating the immediate reality and the realm of art; gazing the reclining nude,with a pair of eyes conjured, he  levitated to the other bank of reality as if by magic, while she waited and waited,somewhat perplexed, then her eyes intervened, made him cross over so fast.
0
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 2:49 PM UTC
The Reclining **** an admirer's plight
Gather 'round children To hear the story of Obsessionman Our extremely watchful protector Bitten by a radioactive trumpeter at a young age He obtained the super power Of constantly thinking about the moment he was bitten His power only grew stronger with time When people told him his power was **** His power grew When people mentioned the toxicity of his radioactive waste His power grew And when he encountered his arch nemesis; the trumpeter Everything grew You should've seen how fast he flew He soared quicker than All the ******** he had once considered important But when flying at such high velocities Civilians become interlopers And interlopers become super villains Which is no laughing matter Aquaman went comatose And Comaman got aqua toes Sacrifices we were willing to make But then God intervened And Obsessionman ***** Him Which we all agreed was kind of ****** up Decidedly so... I mean... What can you say about your hero when he ***** God? But that's the beauty of Obsessionman All he requires from us Is our disgust, indifference, and hatred To feed his strength Until the day he is powerful enough To fulfill his destiny And face his arch nemesis The trumpeter
0
May 24, 2017
May 24, 2017 at 4:58 PM UTC
Obsession
I feel ugly. Like, the dark spots on a full moon. The burning skin under the crisp sun. The harsh stain of vibrant colours on a canvas. The violent shade of the monsoon cloud. The rustic smell of an old key. The sad wrinkles on a tree trunk. The tired stretch marks on a shabby body. Or, the birth of a life. I feel less. I feel pigmented. I feel lost. I feel strange. This is my beauty to taste. To embrace.
0
Jun 27, 2018
Jun 27, 2018 at 8:00 AM UTC
And then beauty intervened.
Sacagawea's Capture As I strolled the Knife River trail a dust cloud swirled and fell and earth lodges appeared by the score extending from the path to the river banks. Hidatsa women sang at their chores,         husking corn -               beading moccasins -                      scraping a buffalo hide. A band of hunters dismounted and released their ropes - dropping two deer and an elk by the hanging rack. Triumphal shouts from the river turned all heads to the shore where warriors, returned from Shoshone fields, lashed up canoes and dragged their human spoils up the rise. Several squaws reached out from the gathering crowd seizing two of the squirming children. A Shoshone girl with terror in her eyes cringed as a warrior raised his arm. "No, tell your Hidatsa name!" Sobbing she choked through broken tears, "My name is Sacagawea." I bolted to breach the walls of time to face death in her defense but a new whirling cloud intervened. When the dust fell away all the lodges had vanished with all the Hidatsa villagers. Kneeling down to the Dakota grass, I caressed a circular hollow etched deeply in the silent earth.

 August 6, 2010
0
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 5:28 AM UTC
Terror in her Eyes
thank god, above all me, born in age of female equality evolution in any other age me, a slave confined by financial, educational and social inequality fueled by power deluded women-peons leaving mountains and dungeons in passing tears of blood shed by disillusioned soul instinctively knowing, i can create my own destiny life time spend achieving smoothing the road for future daughters BUT satans has intervened once more present daughters do not value their priceless inheritance many squander it, willingly but few remain with noble footing instinctively calling out, to higher power uneducated, still knowing god exist, he is watching and my inner strength comes from my creator who created for a purpose hail the king of kings
0
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 4:59 AM UTC
born during female revolution
I’d craft you a poem, yet words may fall short, To capture the joy, the laughter, the rapport. The very essence of what sets you apart, The moment we met, the joy in my heart. Instead, gaze upon the night's starlit design, Connect the dots, the constellations align. A grand spectacle, yet a void unseen, A tapestry incomplete, until you intervened. Stand amidst the cosmos, in lunar glow, The missing piece, the truth starts to show. By now, you must surely know, How your presence completes this poem I bestow.
0
Apr 20, 2024
Apr 20, 2024 at 4:52 PM UTC
Lalin
The Raven Queen came from simple country roots No royal silver spoon did she carry Raised by unpretentious witches holding great wisdom Old Gertrude, Esmeralda and Tregarry Three witches known as spiritual leaders of the valley Of lowly peasants and abundant woods Raised her up simply infused with a fiery spirit Proclaiming the law of the land to be good Two faces reigned within the leaders and peasants One which was shown to The Law The other kept hidden as they lowly bowed to the wind Praising the moon and icy snow as it thawed A tale of hidden woe these three leaders carried Unbeknown to the Raven Queen Of her true heritage and the tainted gold they kept From the night Old Death intervened Old Death quietly crept in on her birthing night Stole her sweet mother away Yet for a fee the wise leaders took her in to love Knowing who she would be one day An eager student their young queen became Learning the wisdom of the truth Quite an apprentice in the ways of the wind She became early in her youth All at once the fiercest Winter ever known to the valley Brought in terrible winds and bitter snow The young queen watched as the peasants trembled As savage wolves entered their fold Great hunger came to the valley along with Old Death Dissension was called into play Soon, each of the leaders knew the time had come To teach her the dark side of their ways She was pulled from light into the darkest shadows To embrace her own true destiny Her dark light shone through the woods and the valley Bringing the savage wolves to bay Fear of the Raven Queen’s light spread from the valley Coursing through the veins of The Law Sending in fierce horsemen thundering with vengeance Her own lifeblood they came to draw She answered their thundering with her own call Heads for heads, raging fire with ice Saving the ones who took her under their wings Returning their tainted gold at a price
0
Sep 12, 2010
Sep 12, 2010 at 1:58 PM UTC
The Raven Queen
The Raven Queen came from simple country roots No royal silver spoon did she carry Raised by unpretentious witches holding great wisdom Old Gertrude, Esmeralda and Tregarry Three witches known as spiritual leaders of the valley Of lowly peasants and abundant woods Raised her up simply infused with a fiery spirit Proclaiming the law of the land to be good Two faces reigned within the leaders and peasants One which was shown to The Law The other kept hidden as they lowly bowed to the wind Praising the moon and icy snow as it thawed A tale of hidden woe these three leaders carried Unbeknown to the Raven Queen Of her true heritage and the tainted gold they kept From the night Old Death intervened Old Death quietly crept in on her birthing night Stole her sweet mother away Yet for a fee the wise leaders took her in to love Knowing who she would be one day An eager student their young queen became Learning the wisdom of the truth Quite an apprentice in the ways of the wind She became early in her youth All at once the fiercest Winter ever known to the valley Brought in terrible winds and bitter snow The young queen watched as the peasants trembled As savage wolves entered their fold Great hunger came to the valley along with Old Death Dissension was called into play Soon, each of the leaders knew the time had come To teach her the dark side of their ways She was pulled from light into the darkest shadows To embrace her own true destiny Her dark light shone through the woods and the valley Bringing the savage wolves to bay Fear of the Raven Queen’s light spread from the valley Coursing through the veins of The Law Sending in fierce horsemen thundering with vengeance Her own lifeblood they came to draw She answered their thundering with her own call Heads for heads, raging fire with ice Saving the ones who took her under their wings Returning their tainted gold at a price
Continue reading...
44
I have a friend who still believes in heaven. Not a stupid person, yet with all she knows, she literally talks to God. She thinks someone listens in heaven. On earth she's unusually competent. Brave too, able to face unpleasantness. We found a caterpillar dying in the dirt, greedy ants crawling over it. I'm always moved by disaster, always eager to oppose vitality But timid also, quick to shut my eyes. Whereas my friend was able to watch, to let events play out According to nature. For my sake she intervened Brushing a few ants off the torn thing, and set it down Across the road. My friend says I shut my eyes to God, that nothing else explains My aversion to reality. She says I'm like the child who Buries her head in the pillow So as not to see, the child who tells herself That light causes sadness- My friend is like the mother. Patient, urging me To wake up an adult like herself, a courageous person- In my dreams, my friend reproaches me. We're walking On the same road, except it's winter now; She's telling me that when you love the world you hear celestial music: Look up, she says. When I look up, nothing. Only clouds, snow, a white business in the trees Like brides leaping to a great height- Then I'm afraid for her; I see her Caught in a net deliberately cast over the earth- In reality, we sit by the side of the road, watching the sun set; From time to time, the silence pierced by a birdcall. It's this moment we're trying to explain, the fact That we're at ease with death, with solitude. My friend draws a circle in the dirt; inside, the caterpillar doesn't move. She's always trying to make something whole, something beautiful, an image Capable of life apart from her. We're very quiet. It's peaceful sitting here, not speaking, The composition Fixed, the road turning suddenly dark, the air Going cool, here and there the rocks shining and glittering- It's this stillness we both love. The love of form is a love of endings.
0
2.6k
Celestial Music
I have a friend who still believes in heaven. Not a stupid person, yet with all she knows, she literally talks to God. She thinks someone listens in heaven. On earth she's unusually competent. Brave too, able to face unpleasantness. We found a caterpillar dying in the dirt, greedy ants crawling over it. I'm always moved by disaster, always eager to oppose vitality But timid also, quick to shut my eyes. Whereas my friend was able to watch, to let events play out According to nature. For my sake she intervened Brushing a few ants off the torn thing, and set it down Across the road. My friend says I shut my eyes to God, that nothing else explains My aversion to reality. She says I'm like the child who Buries her head in the pillow So as not to see, the child who tells herself That light causes sadness- My friend is like the mother. Patient, urging me To wake up an adult like herself, a courageous person- In my dreams, my friend reproaches me. We're walking On the same road, except it's winter now; She's telling me that when you love the world you hear celestial music: Look up, she says. When I look up, nothing. Only clouds, snow, a white business in the trees Like brides leaping to a great height- Then I'm afraid for her; I see her Caught in a net deliberately cast over the earth- In reality, we sit by the side of the road, watching the sun set; From time to time, the silence pierced by a birdcall. It's this moment we're trying to explain, the fact That we're at ease with death, with solitude. My friend draws a circle in the dirt; inside, the caterpillar doesn't move. She's always trying to make something whole, something beautiful, an image Capable of life apart from her. We're very quiet. It's peaceful sitting here, not speaking, The composition Fixed, the road turning suddenly dark, the air Going cool, here and there the rocks shining and glittering- It's this stillness we both love. The love of form is a love of endings.
Continue reading...
39
In My Sole It was just a normal day that we happened to be together. Your hand in mine-us side by side, and then you broke away. You broke away to stare at something from far away so it wouldn't be self conscious of you peering into its soul. You stood there looking so intently at something I couldn't see. I couldn't see what you perceived for I couldn't believe that there was something you saw that I couldn't conceive. So I stopped...I smiled and I took a picture. I took this picture of you staring in the distance with this half acquired smile... a moment in time that I would be sure to keep with me forever. The moment penetrated my soul ever so deeply that I decided to keep the picture somewhere it could affect even the ground I walk on. I keep the picture in my sole... In the sole of my shoe so no matter where I go I'm walking with you. Faded Photograph of a Photographer In an old... wallet box attic was an old faded photograph of a photographer. Meant to be... left alone put to rest forgotten it was since then brought back by nostalgia and the impossible life that was now to be lived without you. You liked to be... behind smiling through holding the camera as you were the photographer but not this time, as you were the photographed... In front of smiling at holding a pose while I became the photographer, photographing you, the freshly captured photographer in the faded photograph. In an old... dream heart memory you never faded but remained the still whole of a perfect silhouette. The perfect photographer preserved in the perfectly faded photograph for... love life forever. The Imprint I just stood there watching from feet away floating in a time that was once my own, and watching a moment form before me that I burned into my memory. I watched a much younger version of myself sitting with you in all of your perfect imperfections. I wanted to talk to you again, to hear your voice be directed toward me for one last time, but I knew that was something that I could not do for I had already had my moment. If I intervened everything could change, and I would be stealing away precious time from a younger me that would never be ready for anything shorter than forever with you. Instead, I kept my safe distance and watched as the two of you got up from our bench that we spent hours on talking or just sitting in silence. The look on his face-the look on my face was a priceless glance as the two of you walked with interlocked hands in a silence as perfect as a symphony. You then seemed to notice something out of the corner of your eye as you began to glance toward my direction. I drew back at first before remembering that I was not something that could be seen by you, but merely a ghost in time. You broke away from his hand and you continued toward where I floated, and you just stared right at me as if you could see me-as if you could feel me. With your half acquired smile I finally felt like I was home again, and I watched the younger version of me capture a perfect picture of you. With that I was once again in our old attic, holding that old photo, that was taken that old day, imprinting a forever timeless love. A love that would live on in my soul for... love life forever.
0
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 3:35 AM UTC
The Imprint Collection
In My Sole It was just a normal day that we happened to be together. Your hand in mine-us side by side, and then you broke away. You broke away to stare at something from far away so it wouldn't be self conscious of you peering into its soul. You stood there looking so intently at something I couldn't see. I couldn't see what you perceived for I couldn't believe that there was something you saw that I couldn't conceive. So I stopped...I smiled and I took a picture. I took this picture of you staring in the distance with this half acquired smile... a moment in time that I would be sure to keep with me forever. The moment penetrated my soul ever so deeply that I decided to keep the picture somewhere it could affect even the ground I walk on. I keep the picture in my sole... In the sole of my shoe so no matter where I go I'm walking with you. Faded Photograph of a Photographer In an old... wallet box attic was an old faded photograph of a photographer. Meant to be... left alone put to rest forgotten it was since then brought back by nostalgia and the impossible life that was now to be lived without you. You liked to be... behind smiling through holding the camera as you were the photographer but not this time, as you were the photographed... In front of smiling at holding a pose while I became the photographer, photographing you, the freshly captured photographer in the faded photograph. In an old... dream heart memory you never faded but remained the still whole of a perfect silhouette. The perfect photographer preserved in the perfectly faded photograph for... love life forever. The Imprint I just stood there watching from feet away floating in a time that was once my own, and watching a moment form before me that I burned into my memory. I watched a much younger version of myself sitting with you in all of your perfect imperfections. I wanted to talk to you again, to hear your voice be directed toward me for one last time, but I knew that was something that I could not do for I had already had my moment. If I intervened everything could change, and I would be stealing away precious time from a younger me that would never be ready for anything shorter than forever with you. Instead, I kept my safe distance and watched as the two of you got up from our bench that we spent hours on talking or just sitting in silence. The look on his face-the look on my face was a priceless glance as the two of you walked with interlocked hands in a silence as perfect as a symphony. You then seemed to notice something out of the corner of your eye as you began to glance toward my direction. I drew back at first before remembering that I was not something that could be seen by you, but merely a ghost in time. You broke away from his hand and you continued toward where I floated, and you just stared right at me as if you could see me-as if you could feel me. With your half acquired smile I finally felt like I was home again, and I watched the younger version of me capture a perfect picture of you. With that I was once again in our old attic, holding that old photo, that was taken that old day, imprinting a forever timeless love. A love that would live on in my soul for... love life forever.
Continue reading...
36
when a nation implodes into a civil war, it is heresy for other nations to intervene, i didn’t hear of the french intervention in the english civil war... or a german intervention in the french civil war... ****** didn’t invade spain, and no african nation intervened in the american civil war... or mongolia invading russia via siberia to save the tsar... but i guess the concept of                           globalisation changed all that, when western nations forgot that they have professional armies... while syria          has a liechtenstein / gibraltar army equivalent... former postmen, cooks, bakers butchers and lawyers turned professional “footballers;” i can draw you a dairy cow in crayons if you like, oozing blood: if this view is too complex to digest - they do it with passion...                 your soldiers do it for a paycheque, get it?
0
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 9:43 AM UTC
the liechtenstein / gibraltar army of syria
Daisies in a garden full of weeds Have you ever seen such an ugly thing? Daisies may look like flowers But look how they steal our sunlight Look how they steal our soil They are not flowers They are infiltrators This is a garden full of weeds This land belongs to us Now look at those selfish Daisies Showing off their ugliness beneath our sunlight Wasting the nutrients in our soil Look at how they taint our community Look at how they defile our home We are incompatible Their crimes are intolerable Are you with us or against us? Hesitation is treason This is a garden infested with Daisies Take them all away And set them ablaze They can never steal our sun again Classify Symbolize Dehumanize Organize Polariz­e And Prepare One to six It can be fixed Seven to eight It is too late Exterminate And Deny Deny Deny You could have stopped it if you tried It was all advertised For just a limited time Before it was taken off the shelves A limited-edition opportunity To step in and intervene But the event has already passed Daisy? What the hell is that? It was all advertised For just a limited time You could have intervened A limited-edition opportunity That never happened It never happened But it will happen again And you'll see a product you recognize In limited-edition But no, you won't buy Not until it's taken off the shelves Then you'll finally miss what's gone If you have the luxury of a memory But even then Will you be believed? One to six It can be fixed Seven to eight It is too late Now all you can say Is Never Again Until Next Time
0
Sep 27, 2025
Sep 27, 2025 at 7:59 PM UTC
The 8-Stage Marketing Strategy
Daisies in a garden full of weeds Have you ever seen such an ugly thing? Daisies may look like flowers But look how they steal our sunlight Look how they steal our soil They are not flowers They are infiltrators This is a garden full of weeds This land belongs to us Now look at those selfish Daisies Showing off their ugliness beneath our sunlight Wasting the nutrients in our soil Look at how they taint our community Look at how they defile our home We are incompatible Their crimes are intolerable Are you with us or against us? Hesitation is treason This is a garden infested with Daisies Take them all away And set them ablaze They can never steal our sun again Classify Symbolize Dehumanize Organize Polariz­e And Prepare One to six It can be fixed Seven to eight It is too late Exterminate And Deny Deny Deny You could have stopped it if you tried It was all advertised For just a limited time Before it was taken off the shelves A limited-edition opportunity To step in and intervene But the event has already passed Daisy? What the hell is that? It was all advertised For just a limited time You could have intervened A limited-edition opportunity That never happened It never happened But it will happen again And you'll see a product you recognize In limited-edition But no, you won't buy Not until it's taken off the shelves Then you'll finally miss what's gone If you have the luxury of a memory But even then Will you be believed? One to six It can be fixed Seven to eight It is too late Now all you can say Is Never Again Until Next Time
Continue reading...
69
AMERICA, THE BEAUTIFUL? Were you aware that our nation opposed Haiti's revolution for democracy in the early 1800s; that our nation's war against Mexico that began in 1846 resulted in our taking half of Mexico for ourselves; that our nation defeated Spain ostensibly to liberate Cuba, but actually established a military base on the island and furtively gained de facto control of its puppet government; that our nation seized Puerto Rico, Hawaii, and Guam; that our nation had fought a brutal war to subjugate the Phillipines; that our nation had opened Japan for trade with us with threats and gunboats; that our nation created an "Open Door" policy with China to exploit it economically; that our nation engineered a revolution against Colombia to create the nation of Panama so we could build the canal through it; that our nation sent 5,000 Marines in 1926 to Nicaragua to counter their democratic revolution; that our nation in 1916 intervened in the Dominican Republic for the fourth time; that our nation in 1915 intervened in Haiti for the second time, and so on. Imperialism, not democracy, steered our nation's decisions and movements. Did any of you learn about, let alone study extensively, any of these flagitious Ameican acts and policies as you sat and squirmed in your high school American history class? My surmise is that you did not. But I bet you were required in at least one of your classrooms sometime between 1st and 12th grade to stand at attention, as it were, and recite the Pledge of Allegiance as you saluted the flag in the corner. My riposte: What does it matter if our flags are waving, if our spirits are flagging? Epilogue: Most importantly, never forget that it was the two evils of slavery and genocide that propelled our nation into what once was the most influential nation on Earth. Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks
0
Jun 26, 2020
Jun 26, 2020 at 8:52 PM UTC
AMERICA, THE BEAUTIFUL?
AMERICA, THE BEAUTIFUL? Were you aware that our nation opposed Haiti's revolution for democracy in the early 1800s; that our nation's war against Mexico that began in 1846 resulted in our taking half of Mexico for ourselves; that our nation defeated Spain ostensibly to liberate Cuba, but actually established a military base on the island and furtively gained de facto control of its puppet government; that our nation seized Puerto Rico, Hawaii, and Guam; that our nation had fought a brutal war to subjugate the Phillipines; that our nation had opened Japan for trade with us with threats and gunboats; that our nation created an "Open Door" policy with China to exploit it economically; that our nation engineered a revolution against Colombia to create the nation of Panama so we could build the canal through it; that our nation sent 5,000 Marines in 1926 to Nicaragua to counter their democratic revolution; that our nation in 1916 intervened in the Dominican Republic for the fourth time; that our nation in 1915 intervened in Haiti for the second time, and so on. Imperialism, not democracy, steered our nation's decisions and movements. Did any of you learn about, let alone study extensively, any of these flagitious Ameican acts and policies as you sat and squirmed in your high school American history class? My surmise is that you did not. But I bet you were required in at least one of your classrooms sometime between 1st and 12th grade to stand at attention, as it were, and recite the Pledge of Allegiance as you saluted the flag in the corner. My riposte: What does it matter if our flags are waving, if our spirits are flagging? Epilogue: Most importantly, never forget that it was the two evils of slavery and genocide that propelled our nation into what once was the most influential nation on Earth. Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks
Continue reading...
5
Asking me if I miss her, Would be like asking, The stars if they miss the nights, Asking the sun if it miss it’s warmth, Or asking the ocean if it miss it tides, I haven see the most beautiful flowers, But they all have the same sent, I got the see the most beautiful sights around me, But the wind winded the same at each, Only ever in your presence, The wind whispered a sweet fragrance to a flower, A sent so beautiful it’s like God intervened, I would recognize you in total darkness, If you were mute and I deaf I would recognize you in a whole other lifetime, In different bodies different times, And I will love you in all of this, Till the last star in the universe dies, They asked me “do you love her to death?” I replied “if you speak her name over my gave watch and see it brings me back to life”
0
May 29, 2024
May 29, 2024 at 12:19 AM UTC
Asking me if I miss her
You the are ripple in a pond that once lay still. And I wonder if the wind could speak would it ever reveal why the sky sheds such a solemn tear? Mountains will roar Loud and Fierce; But the pond, it always lay still. Through thunderous storms and endless downpours it remained serene. A peaceful pond, until you intervened. That single clouds tear sparked a ripple that would never disappear- a ripple that refuses to adhere to the known laws of this sphere. As if the roots of the tree grew above the tallest leaves so high it could see beyond the seven seas; my world, upside down. As if the beating of a bold heart broke through the skin to show all its scars; My pond, unsound. Grasped by your ripple. Unable to breathe. Unable to drown
0
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 5:05 PM UTC
Ripple in a Pond
I once had a lover, we'll call her Louise Very attractive but  so hard to please She was a red haired beauty with emerald eyes I fell head over heels I cannot deny She told me she loved me but that was a crock When a  new beau came a strutting she took the walk She told me our love would last  forever She told me a lie, she thought she was clever My heart was in pieces, all tattered and torn At that point I wished I'd never been born Years  passed by when out of the blue She called , for what reason I hadn't a clue My heart had healed but still had a scar She thought she could play me - like a guitar We arranged for a place that we both could meet The next time I saw her my heart skipped a beat By this time she had gone through so many men She wanted to start all over again The candle still flickered, my heart screamed out yes She was quite a temptation to that I  confess But my head intervened, I wasn't taking this pill Too many times I'd been through this drill Although I desperately  wanted to comply The game was over, it was her turn to cry.
0
Nov 13, 2018
Nov 13, 2018 at 4:54 PM UTC
Karma
Today was unusual, while crossing a rocky path, my 42 year old son reached back offering his hand to steady my steps of progress. A small thing at first glance. When for all these years it was me holding his hand, guiding his path. Age has intervened, Now our roles have reversed, as it does, as it must. Accepting this reality the only path to choose.
0
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 3:18 PM UTC
Aging Gracefully
At Heaven’s window I knelt to pray what do you say when you are dwarfed by Christendom’s vast portal What cries from hearts of the faithful in anguished burdened prayer they assailed such Holy veneration Common tongues caught up in awe and adoration found oratory’s fount how they created an unequaled Spell it clung to holy symbols and pictures that hung on the walls it tore away time itself revealed the Secret mystery of holiness’s true heart and meaning the sky strained to carry the weight of words so Profound any and all armies would fall before their mastery to question one’s self at such depths would Make you defenseless to all obligations you crossed grandeurs stronghold you intervened no less into Matters that only prophets are obliged to discuss you have fashioned with words great bastions to Supersede they mock the infidelity and foolishness of many kingdoms Royalty is not just to wear fine Robes but to center the mind on those richest of finds and then return to mankind and spread them as Star dust in the lowly places and see the birth of equality and liberty flourish from the lowest to the Highest that honors not one but all lead at all points root out ignorance that is the cause of all shame With words that are akin to the words that created worlds this is what you are caught up in there is no Time for idleness go and spread this word to the four corners of man’s domain we are heroes yet made By the very words that are possessed and won at altars the planks of mortals that build a stairway to Glory the earth yearns and dies while you tarry the breach long ago in Eden now the dream is to be Fulfilled by holy men and women strong enough to face this most demanding challenge forget self catch Fire with holy zeal burn only for others the world will change from carnage to gifts that bestow Abundant Life we have never lived in a world that we could make by surrendering our dreams for stellar exploits
0
Feb 13, 2012
Feb 13, 2012 at 5:51 PM UTC
Alone on the precipice
At Heaven’s window I knelt to pray what do you say when you are dwarfed by Christendom’s vast portal What cries from hearts of the faithful in anguished burdened prayer they assailed such Holy veneration Common tongues caught up in awe and adoration found oratory’s fount how they created an unequaled Spell it clung to holy symbols and pictures that hung on the walls it tore away time itself revealed the Secret mystery of holiness’s true heart and meaning the sky strained to carry the weight of words so Profound any and all armies would fall before their mastery to question one’s self at such depths would Make you defenseless to all obligations you crossed grandeurs stronghold you intervened no less into Matters that only prophets are obliged to discuss you have fashioned with words great bastions to Supersede they mock the infidelity and foolishness of many kingdoms Royalty is not just to wear fine Robes but to center the mind on those richest of finds and then return to mankind and spread them as Star dust in the lowly places and see the birth of equality and liberty flourish from the lowest to the Highest that honors not one but all lead at all points root out ignorance that is the cause of all shame With words that are akin to the words that created worlds this is what you are caught up in there is no Time for idleness go and spread this word to the four corners of man’s domain we are heroes yet made By the very words that are possessed and won at altars the planks of mortals that build a stairway to Glory the earth yearns and dies while you tarry the breach long ago in Eden now the dream is to be Fulfilled by holy men and women strong enough to face this most demanding challenge forget self catch Fire with holy zeal burn only for others the world will change from carnage to gifts that bestow Abundant Life we have never lived in a world that we could make by surrendering our dreams for stellar exploits
Continue reading...
20
_Munching, crunching on a bone, The trolls of Langwood growl and moan. Through feral mutterings and drivel, They gulp and choke down last night's grizzle. In their cave on rocky mountains high, Their scaly skin cracks from air so dry. Once human men poisoned by greed, Transformed into ogres for their misdeeds. They prayed on people of modest means, Until our good sorceress intervened. She protects our land and keeps us safe, From warlords and bankers filled with hate. Condemned to live long foul lives, The trolls of Langwood miss their wives. For they now resemble their truer selves, Forever denied the beauty of men and elves._
0
Nov 20, 2018
Nov 20, 2018 at 2:09 PM UTC
The Trolls of Langwood
590 Did you ever stand in a Cavern’s Mouth— Widths out of the Sun— And look—and shudder, and block your breath— And deem to be alone In such a place, what horror, How Goblin it would be— And fly, as ’twere pursuing you? Then Loneliness—looks so— Did you ever look in a Cannon’s face— Between whose Yellow eye— And yours—the Judgment intervened— The Question of “To die”— Extemporizing in your ear As cool as Satyr’s Drums— If you remember, and were saved— It’s liker so—it seems—
0
1.8k
Did you ever stand in a Cavern’s Mouth
The highway changes when you travel it At different times, In different seasons, Weathers, road conditions, or decades. The places you pass and your final destination Will change entirely from year to year Or day to night. The highway will tell you totally different things, The signs change from year to year And day to night. The sky goes dark, the lights come on, Some letters are lost, and new meaning found. A roadside motel becomes simply a mote, There is vacancy where before There was nothing at all, Just an abandoned fruit stand, which by twilight Becomes a small house— The siding might be yellow or brown— With dark curtains and neon signs Proffering readings, psychic insights, an open palm. The other night, I came to the end of the highway. I would have crashed right through the barrier But God or my survival instinct intervened, And my journey continued On a different highway altogether.
0
Apr 8, 2021
Apr 8, 2021 at 2:34 PM UTC
The Highway Changes