"jasper" poems
I.
the emperor
sleeps in a palace of porphyry
which was a million years building
he takes the air in a howdah
of jasper beneath saffron
umbrellas
upon an elephant
twelve foot high
behind whose ear
sits always a crowned
king twir-
ling an
ankus of
ebony
the fountains of the emperor’s
palace run sunlight and
moonlight and the emperor’s
elephant is a thousand years old
the harem of
the emperor
is carpeted with
gold cloth
from the
ceiling(one
diamond timid
with nesting incense)
fifty
marble
pillars
slipped from immeasurable
height,fall,fifty,silent
in the incense is tangled a cool moon
there are thrice-three-hundred
doors carven of chalcedony and
before every door a naked
****** watches
on their heads turbans of a hundred
colours
in their hands scimitars like windy torches
each
is
blacker than oblivion
the ladies
of the emperor’s
harem are queens
of all the earth and the rings
upon their hands are from mines
a mile deep
but the body of
the queen of queens is
more transparent
than water,she is softer than birds
2.
when the emperor is very
amorous he reclines upon
the couch of couches and
beckons with
the little
finger of his left
hand
then the
thrice-three-hundredth
door is opened by the tallest
****** and the queen
of queens comes
forth
ankles
musical with large pearls
kingdoms in her ears
at the feet of
the emperor a cithern-
player squats with
quiveringgold
body
behind
the emperor ten
elected warriors with
bodies of lazy jade
and twitching
eyelids
finger
their
unquiet
spears
the queen of queens is dancing
her subtle
body weaving
insinuating upon the gold cloth
incessantly creates patterns of sudden
lust
her
stealing body ex-
pending gathering pouring upon itself stiffenS
to a
white thorn
of desire
the taut neck of the citharede wags
in the dust the ghastly warriors
amber with lust breathe
together the emperor,exerting
himself among his pillows throws
jewels at the queen of queens and
white money upon her nakedness
he
nods
and all
depart through the bruised air aflutter with pearls
3.
they are
alone
he beckons,she rises she
stands
a moment
in the passion of the fifty
pillars
listening
while the queens of all the
earth writhe upon deep rugs
11.2k
I can barely see the Sun now.
It's slowly drowning into a pool of clouds,
turning a shade darker as it does so,
like a red bindi in the sky.
Awed by the mysterious beauty
I stand there starring.
Orange, pink and red clouds
fading into a deep blue.
The rest of the sky is covered with tiny shiny dots
and silhouettes of birds flying home
on the amber background.
The Sun's glowing like a jasper
and slowly it's completely under the horizon,
but a few rays cut through the clouds
like closing doors of the Heavens.
After the sunset the sky is a different kind of heaven.
The Night wears her beautiful cerulean dress,
decorated with diamonds we call stars.
They twinkle, they're a priceless sight,
covered often by clouds or pollution
seems like she is unhappy with us humans.
Nature, a vast beauty all around.
Despite being forgotten
it shows off it's beauty in a daily routine.
Do you care to notice?
Sep 23, 2017
Sep 23, 2017 at 1:02 AM UTC
Aquarius ♒️
~~~~~~~
Aquarius the symbolism for the water carrier.
Quite an important member of our community
Under spells by an association of the heart
Aquarian crystals are Garnets and Amethyst
Rainbow moonstone, Labradorite, Magnetite
I would buy thee Lithium Quartz ,Moss agate.
Under your care placing Crysoprase n Cryolite
Some Rainforest Jasper for love of this lady.
~~~~~~~~
Written by Philip
December 18th 2018.
Dec 18, 2018
Dec 18, 2018 at 2:27 AM UTC
215
What is—”Paradise”—
Who live there—
Are they “Farmers”—
Do they ***
Do they know that this is “Amherst”—
And that I—am coming—too—
Do they wear “new shoes”—in “Eden”—
Is it always pleasant—there—
Won’t they scold us—when we’re homesick—
Or tell God—how cross we are—
You are sure there’s such a person
As “a Father”—in the sky—
So if I get lost—there—ever—
Or do what the Nurse calls “die”—
I shan’t walk the “Jasper”—barefoot—
Ransomed folks—won’t laugh at me—
Maybe—”Eden” a’n't so lonesome
As New England used to be!
6.2k
Hi, hello, I'm here.
My name is Lucas-Jasper, but you can call me Jas. (pronounced J-Ass) Never call me LJ. That's weird.
I'm an Aries, and I'm dumb.
Sometimes I'll write about wth is going on, or I'll write poetry, or nothing at all.
Idk man.
(Feel free to message me whenever *** I'm always on the search for interweb friends)
- Jas
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 10:24 PM UTC
Pisces ♓️
~~~~~
Pisces are healed by birthstones of Amethyst
In tune also with Turquoise,Aquamarine,Amber
Sapphires,Sunstones,Smithsonite, Labradorite
Chrysoprase of green, Ocean Jasper, Flurite
Especially Bluelace Agate,Rainbow Moonstone
Stones Charolite, Calcite,Ametrine,Bloodstone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written by Philip.
December 22nd. 2018.
Dec 22, 2018
Dec 22, 2018 at 12:04 AM UTC
Engulfed by light /
eyes open wide/
my pupil turns white/
it’s nothing to stand in the impenetrable heat. /
The sun stands before you/
with all of your turmoils /
your mind is my glory hole !/
The powerful gust from a huge fan i trust/
was disguised as an infinite beam as it lifts me/
dematerialize the old grains of me/
The wind spreads her love unconditionally
/DESERT JASPER /
what morals are you after?
In the face of sadism
the expression of laughter.
Jun 3, 2017
Jun 3, 2017 at 1:51 PM UTC
Mongst the salacious ferns of
Artemis requested in the land
of the handsome labyris women
wealing and weaving Vulcans
shrewd hearts of jasper and
chalcendony, governess Hulda
cleaves Muspellsheims yew bones
fletching mandrakes philtre whetting
hie Cupids perfuse herb of grace
intercessorial unto volcanic pious
virtues haranguing loves cataract
dashing herewith demotic enditements
distempered of ludic ordination;
forging a year and a day halest
cledonomancies volley of truths
bequeathing privity of Heavens
prismatic trajectory.
ELEETE J MUIR.
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 9:25 PM UTC
She was like the iron pyrite
The teacher asked them to examine, and describe;
Cold, dense and prickly,
Difficult to love.
Given the right light
And a gentle handling,
Oh, how she'd sparkle,
But in that place, expectations and sensory overload
rendered her lumpen, and resistant.
Removed from her books and her inner world - all she needed -
And placed in a maelstrom,
She was bewildered and forlorn.
Un-cooperative, they called her,
And the teachers loved the other gems instead,
Pretty little nuggets; Ruby, Jasper, Jade.
Two years of discouragement and dislike
And even the tentative sparkles had darkened.
The other gems enjoyed each other
And moved away from her magnetic pull,
sensing difference.
No outright meanness, not yet,
But hints were brewing, whispers had started
And she wandered alone, in the playground,
Talking to the seagulls, and singing to herself.
The teachers only wanted conformity
And called her parents to voice concern
about her lack of friends.
Had they asked her, allowed her to have a say
She would have told them it didn't matter
But they were determined that it did, to them, if not to her,
And her parents were added to the burden of people
Worried and disappointed, watching.
She knew now, she was different, she had always known but never minded,
Now it was a problem. She didn't fit,
Like that scratchy purple uniform, around her chubby waist
Food didn't judge, dislike or condemn.
That life ended, and a new struggle, in a new school, began.
This was harder; the meanness was apparent now,
Difference wasn't tolerated
And someone wandering alone was a target.
She found a place to hide, behind a staircase, with a book,
But they found her, removed her and patrolled her only refuge
Forcing her to submit to the torture.
Every day was a war zone,
So she found another way, and embraced ill-health, stealthily
Spraying deodorant directly into her own face
induced asthma attacks; and not all those ear infections were real,
She was an accomplished actress.
She got through it, millions do.
She found her own place, her own friends in her own time.
Among Onyx, Jet and Tigers Eye
Her darkness didn't mark her out as different,
And all that fake illness
Was great prep for theatre,
Where she was able to return to her inner world,
And no-one cared if you feigned madness
Or embraced the real thing.
Difference was celebrated,
The whispers now, were that she had a great stage presence,
And a talent to be nurtured,
Not a difference to be despised.
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 4:35 AM UTC
256
If I’m lost—now
That I was found—
Shall still my transport be—
That once—on me—those Jasper Gates
Blazed open—suddenly—
That in my awkward—gazing—face—
The Angels—softly peered—
And touched me with their fleeces,
Almost as if they cared—
I’m banished—now—you know it—
How foreign that can be—
You’ll know—Sir—when the Savior’s face
Turns so—away from you—
3.5k
Mrs. Gabrielle Giovannitti comes along Peoria Street
every morning at nine o'clock
With kindling wood piled on top of her head, her eyes
looking straight ahead to find the way for her old feet.
Her daughter-in-law, Mrs. Pietro Giovannitti, whose
husband was killed in a tunnel explosion through
the negligence of a fellow-servant,
Works ten hours a day, sometimes twelve, picking onions
for Jasper on the Bowmanville road.
She takes a street car at half-past five in the morning,
Mrs. Pietro Giovannitti does,
And gets back from Jasper's with cash for her day's
work, between nine and ten o'clock at night.
Last week she got eight cents a box, Mrs. Pietro
Giovannitti, picking onions for Jasper,
But this week Jasper dropped the pay to six cents a
box because so many women and girls were answering
the ads in the Daily News.
Jasper belongs to an Episcopal church in Ravenswood
and on certain Sundays
He enjoys chanting the Nicene creed with his daughters
on each side of him joining their voices with his.
If the preacher repeats old sermons of a Sunday, Jasper's
mind wanders to his 700-acre farm and how he
can make it produce more efficiently
And sometimes he speculates on whether he could word
an ad in the Daily News so it would bring more
women and girls out to his farm and reduce operating
costs.
Mrs. Pietro Giovannitti is far from desperate about life;
her joy is in a child she knows will arrive to her in
three months.
And now while these are the pictures for today there are
other pictures of the Giovannitti people I could give
you for to-morrow,
And how some of them go to the county agent on winter
mornings with their baskets for beans and cornmeal
and molasses.
I listen to fellows saying here's good stuff for a novel or
it might be worked up into a good play.
I say there's no dramatist living can put old Mrs.
Gabrielle Giovannitti into a play with that kindling
wood piled on top of her head coming along Peoria
Street nine o'clock in the morning.
2.9k
~~~<=>~~~
jasper trees
lace agate skies
ebony mountains
flecks of birds
amber
embers
with
sapphire
eyes
jaded leaves
pirouette
thru
space
emerald dew
upon
God's
Face
SoulSurvivor
(C) 3/7/2015
Mar 7, 2015
Mar 7, 2015 at 9:43 AM UTC
an octagon tent
wide enough that chucking rollies
to the sand made impossible
sprawled layers
you turned to quote Dali
told me how pale blue washed with lucy
shimmered skyline into dimension
acryllic-smeared sass drips canvas
into murmurs circling dilation
dimethyltryptamine stains
painting dreams on my eyelids
with flowerbrushes and silk,
mushroom dust gathers in discarded hues
on your pallet, where the colors of your irises
dry into a nebula of night-blooming jasmine
the scent of how you move when you sleep
and sleeping is never so sweet
as dancing through lucidity
with you as my sheets.
and i've traced your thumbprint so often
i'm sure if it were stretched around a marble
like buffalo skin on spirit-caller drums,
a globe would be seen
in which Greenland is finally proportionate--
the map on my wall always bothers you,
but I do too, and everyone does,
urging me under the geography
etched into the sea of your surface
by the crucible of your purpose
and working me into
empty behind your right
below the 22
between i'ching
and the forty two names of god
clasping your fore in silver
copper wound around my finger
hamstrings woven like wire
kambaba jasper, two to share
you hang Tibetan tektites
to elevate space
meteorite fragments
lodged in your helix,
stardust blood,
mandala sand from your mother,
and our tendons wrappe
by dexterous carpals
make such a pretty pendant
of my heart,
for synesthesia mistakes not
and my addiction to the pen has eased
for you breathe murals
and syllables never could
match brushtrokes of carbon dioxide.
Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 1:13 PM UTC
Dust the base of my spine
In red sparks of Jasper
The cherry of a cigarette on a
Smoky quartz
Stability.
And then you progress
Caress my lower abdomen
Make me contract and shake, in infinite bliss
And lay me in a field of orange marigolds
Sensuality.
Stroke the naval centre -
My life principles of power and identity
Melted away
In the honey calcite that drips in pearls
Power.
528 Hertz, you vibrate
The frequency that renews the very
Physical matter of my vessel,
My coded waves
Love.
My throat, where you talk your wisdom
Lace my waist in agate
And your hand circles the point of serenity
Teeth in the butter soft skin
Truth.
And then you kiss me
On the forehead between the eyes
Those eyes that transform to yours,
When I open my third, and see the indigo
Insight.
Shatter, shatter the shards through the finality
The barrier of quartz and clarity
And melt into my Sahasara
And we become knowing.
One.
Jul 21, 2017
Jul 21, 2017 at 11:29 AM UTC
In The Light, I am engulfed.
Eyes wide open yet I see nothing but white.
Feel nothing but an impenetrable heat.
As if my eyes were closed and the sun
were blazing right before me in all His glory.
I am lifted into an infinite beam
by a powerful gust.
Soaring higher and higher.
My body slowly begins to dematerialize
into grains of sand.
The wind, She spreads me all about.
Each grain a gem waiting to be discovered.
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 1:37 PM UTC
You could desperate hear me start weeping
Ruckus started to crying to crack tangerine
holds one still upright auburn
as an immortal's loneliness fogged or condemned
stays a Sahara burnt hot tambourine
a hangover led Arabian
a broken record
some shattered the bathroom bar.
I wonder for my brother's dowry
on beds too kempt to be called beds
and doorframes and lamps set never high enough to hit again,
to stand to kneel to lock to lash to hold to my brother's body
now felt to me like the female sold fragile to the greater cities with
a vote,
he clearly left his Argentina behind no matter
how she paled, ended struck.
No longer a child or sister to pass as
to take guests in alone
to stand our married couple's cries an unmuteable radio
can't go back to playrooms for imparallel dignities' sake
that made all the noise at night worth it to deal with
I, don't want to play the rook
if no horse of yours' beside.
Now once the scarcity of your voice,
if even morbid,
is to be greeted by me alone,
Adam and Eve we have unable to see,
just for the empty halls of your decision just for me to hit,
your turned leaf hidden agenda of relief,
I recognise my faiths of the old of your endless
mornings supposedly killed by snoring and your
vividness to my thoughts a foreign concept,
to note you resurrected out of mind and out of sight
the congruence picks me out and slaps me that
our cocoon and safe designed for you
was nothing short of a coma web in your eyes
to begin with instead.
...
I look out to my brother's dowry
to hold stubborn, fainted in my nook the head of my brother's body
to sit on his old air this house keeps like a sari gem
he will never long for
again.
Dec 14, 2020
Dec 14, 2020 at 10:10 AM UTC
The earth was sown with early flowers,
The heavens were blue and bright--
I met a youthful cavalier
As lovely as the light.
I knew him not--but in my heart
His graceful image lies,
And well I marked his open brow,
His sweet and tender eyes,
His ruddy lips that ever smiled,
His glittering teeth betwixt,
And flowing robe embroidered o'er,
With leaves and blossoms mixed.
He wore a chaplet of the rose;
His palfrey, white and sleek,
Was marked with many an ebon spot,
And many a purple streak;
Of jasper was his saddle-bow,
His housings sapphire stone,
And brightly in his stirrup glanced
The purple calcedon.
Fast rode the gallant cavalier,
As youthful horsemen ride;
"Peyre Vidal! know that I am Love,"
The blooming stranger cried;
"And this is Mercy by my side,
A dame of high degree;
This maid is Chastity," he said,
"This squire is Loyalty."
2.3k
To the tune of "Rinsing Silk Stream"
My courtyard is small, windows idle,
spring is getting old.
Screens unrolled cast heavy shadows.
In my upper-story chamber, speechless,
I play on my jasper lute.
Clouds rising from distant mountains
hasten the fall of dusk.
Gentle wind and drizzling rain
cause a pervading gloom.
Pear blossoms can hardly keep from withering,
but droop.
2k
She couldn't be a mortal, just simply born;
but truly a goddess, ignited, free from form.
-
The day the ground met with her delicate toes
was the night the stars aligned in symmetrical rows.
-
In dream, she dances and glides upon air.
Awake, she braids comets in the threads of her hair.
-
My greetings seem hollowed, I am drifting afloat.
The language of fondness is a lump in my throat.
-
Her outline is gleaming with a soft, vermilion luster.
Her eyes, subtle jasper, urges your core not to trust her.
-
Not a staza, nor an epic can contain flawless grace,
or the yearning I feel when we are sharing this space.
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 2:37 AM UTC
My soul covet nay diamond and jasper,
Which can be stolen or lost altogether;
Neither seek you the fleeting treasures
Of the world with their misty pleasures.
My heart desire not cars nor mansions
Alone in this earth full of constant frictions;
Neither pant you after momentary majesty,
Rejoicing in an ebbing estate of excellency
For moths and worms shall consume apace
At death, this body, and its glamour face.
You cannot the devil confront with riches:
Job would have won cheaply his challenges.
But seek ye rather first the spiritual gifts--
Coveting earnestly heaven's endowments:
For life's purposes are by them established;
Without them dreams cannot be fulfilled.
Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 2:31 AM UTC
i.
At the fore of the gateway
Precious stone's exhibited;
Her beauty and grace.
ii.
A crystal shined gold
Floweth from her soul;
Mine soulmate of heaven's place.
iii.
From her feet
To her waist;
A wine of jasper grape's.
iv.
Inside her ambience rested
Sapphire, chalcedony
Emerald, sardonyx
Sardius, chrysolite
Beryl, topaz,
Chrysoprasus,
Jacinth,
Amethyst.
v.
I was awestruck
God gaveth me unadulterated holiness;
I am verily hooked
To mine queen, mine Jane, mine happiness.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedication-Filipino rose
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 3:53 PM UTC
Out Behind the Barn
me and Jimmy Dickens
were in the barnyard feeding chickens
we were both 11 about that time
when up the road came Susie Kasper
with her cousins Ted and Jasper
a couple of teens headed for a life of crime
they signaled out to us
I could hear Teddy cuss
they walked up and whipped out a couple of butts
they said here take a puff
if you like this I got better stuff
so I did just like a dumb old klutz
I coughed and I wheezed
I farted and then I sneezed
my eyes were leaking like a sieve
Jimmy was smarter I guess
but he too finally said yes
took a hit and felt the burn of a shiv
we both puked as they laughed
it was there very special craft
they always managed to make you look like a fool
but they patted us on the backs
said boys now just relax
you won't learn a lesson like this in no school
then Susie gave me a big wet kiss
wow sure wasn't expecting this
I was in a trance until I heard this horn
it was my mom back from the store
she yelled someone help me with this door
but I was busy gettin educated out behind the barn
Gomer LePoet....
Sep 20, 2011
Sep 20, 2011 at 3:44 PM UTC
My happiness comes from me ask my friends and the world around me blossoming in a spark of crimsony red moon glow on forethought walks through the shivering lenses of percept that trickle down our backs as we enlighten ourselves with all that is in between and unseen.
It is as if our aged limbs were caressed into a symphony of leverages and their shapes. We cannot be cadavers. We are arms of cheer and picture jasper, adolescent googled-eyes gathers with virile fixations on our partners as we prey on the map lines subtly employing our eyes as we dart across each dimple, pimple, freckle, and gently worn rash lines.
These are the dogs of our incessant barking. Idling for sincerity, as actors swiftly press Winter into us while our limbless diction presents our inadequacy Rd upon our ugly and I'll-tempered neighborly-things. Aliens of the afternoon, first floor agony and karmas standard for living in a reduced climate One.
Wearing down the hooves, undulates from Pepperdine mark trails with breaking breads and twigs and bones. Undulates from another world, behoofed and bemoved, curdling their sappy reselling a of drat and unkindly remarks. And we have begun to wonder when evolution will kick-in. When will the military come for them at the doors and vacate is all from our nontoxic lie-shrouded apartment complexes, condos, and cabins. Slaughter numbers of letters and integers right out in the street; loonies in the town square and the moose are crying.
Sep 17, 2016
Sep 17, 2016 at 9:52 PM UTC
how do i even begin to describe this color,
because it is so
******* versatile.
firstly it is the color of royalty and magic--
stuff of fairy tales that leap from the page
and into your mind's eye.
richly-hued gowns reach the polished floor;
crowns and scepters shine with amethyst,
with jasper,
with tanzanite.
this color shines in the stardust of a wizard's cloak,
shimmering in the candlelight as he pours over texts and trinkets
with a glowy-eyed owl brooding on his shoulder.
it billows from the smoke of a witch's potion--
eye of newt and
wing of bat and
toe of frog
combine into a roiling haze that will make the princess
fall in love and then kiss death.
"double, double, toil and trouble...
your dreams and despair await."
this color is also one of spring.
it dots on the hills in delicate petals of
heather and lavender,
and the slightly darker
pansies and geraniums.
it scatters on the wind and leaves its perfume for
butterflies and
bumblebees and
girls in love.
before the sun rises and paints the sky in its warmth,
the world stands still in a state that is
neither dark nor light.
the stars have gone but
morning has not quite arrived to take its place;
birds are not yet chirping and
bugs and not yet buzzing--
in fact the only sound is your own mumbling
as you press your face into the pillow as though
trying to push away the responsibilities that
loom in the daytime.
it is here that this color is perhaps at its softest.
now, there is one more place this color shows itself,
though I'd rather it not be the case.
it is the shade of hurt and fear,
the shade of loneliness.
this color blooms on her back and shoulders and over her eye--
in bruises dark enough for her to seek cover-up
and a restraining order.
this color outlines the handprint of his attacker,
when he was wrenched into an alley and
stripped of his sense of security.
this color looms over the dispossessed
no matter how brightly the sun is shining.
instead of hugs and kisses,
these lost souls are met with remarks like
"loser" and
***** and
******
solitude is sanctuary as invisible hands
attempt to choke the life out of the outcasts.
do you see what i meant when i said
that this color is versatile?
it is a color of kingship and witchcraft,
of nature and pain.
it is not the color of singular definition.
Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 10:49 AM UTC