"jocund" poems
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
And so the Pu'erh and Jasmine Lily
pearls are covered, my attention on
the Phoenix Eye pearls, and I peel back
the foil of a small handful. Ainhana had
carefully remove the infuser and I pour
in the pearls, listening as they gently
hit the glass.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
As soon as Ainhana places the infuser
back in the tea *** I turn the sand-dial
and watch the cream sands run, and the
pearls steep. I dare not let it run for the
full five minutes - I find the perfect brew is
made in three. The pearls now unfurl, the
green leaves now floating. The clear water
turns into the colour of the finest champagne.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
After three minutes, Ainhara pours me a cup,
the aroma itself puts me more at ease.
'Do not waste it,' I tell her, holding the
handle and saucer. 'Such fine pearls can
be steeped twice, and I will make sure that
I treasure every single cup.'
'Yes, My Lady,' She says with a curtsy.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
With my eyes closed, I blow away some
steam and proceed to sip short and brief.
It is a pleasure that is most welcome, indeed!
Teeming with the fires of the Phoenix itself
and caressing my tongue with floral sweetness.
A delicious moan escapes me as I relax in
my Summer Throne.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
My breathing is calmed as I look at
the horizon with redolent eyes.
The choirs sing as I drink such fine
ambrosia! By a cup of Pearls, mine
own eyes feel inspired, as I think of
the lovely vision that is the Phoenix
that is born of the lotus.
Adieu, stresses of Court!
Adieu, plagues of doubt and anger!
Thy Queen is now jocund dove.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
'Truly the finest Jasmine Pearls I've
had in years!' I beam. 'Be sure to share
this with my fellow Kings and Queens.
Especially Queen Kim. In such a golden
hour, we shall become Dream Children,
to be lost in gardens of distant China.'
'Yes, My Queen.' Ainhara waves her hand,
Semui and Ilazi now resume play.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
As I sip once again, the summer
showers come. Lo! My gazebo
glistens! Cleansed by the light,
and life for my fields of my
fair gardens.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
This blend cleanses the fire of my heart.
This blend casts out sorrows for me to
drink beauty.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
A liquor the shade of champagne with
the flames of life budding from a
delicate flavour.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
The Phoenix merges with me, for I
am the star of the morn that graces
my Aurelinaea!
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
Such a blend of elegance in my tongue,
a heavenly euphony. How I'm forever in
awe of the power of
my Jasmine Pearls.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
Aug 4, 2018
Aug 4, 2018 at 7:49 AM UTC
O singer of Persephone!
In the dim meadows desolate
Dost thou remember Sicily?
Still through the ivy flits the bee
Where Amaryllis lies in state;
O Singer of Persephone!
Simaetha calls on Hecate
And hears the wild dogs at the gate;
Dost thou remember Sicily?
Still by the light and laughing sea
Poor Polypheme bemoans his fate;
O Singer of Persephone!
And still in boyish rivalry
Young Daphnis challenges his mate;
Dost thou remember Sicily?
Slim Lacon keeps a goat for thee,
For thee the jocund shepherds wait;
O Singer of Persephone!
Dost thou remember Sicily?
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I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling leaves in glee;
A poet could not be but gay,
In such a jocund company!
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
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A GLEAM -- a gleam -- from Ida's height,
By the Fire-god sent, it came;
From watch to watch it leapt, that light,
As a rider rode the flame!
It shot through the startled sky,
And the torch of that blazing glory
Old Lemnos caught on high,
On its holy promontory,
And sent it on, the jocund sign,
To Athos, Mount of Jove divine.
Wildly the while, it rose from the isle,
So that the might of the journeying Light
Skimmed over the back of the gleaming brine!
Farther and faster speeds it on,
Till the watch that keeps Macistus steep
See it burst like a blazing Sun!
Doth Macistus sleep
On his tower-clad steep?
No! rapid and red doth the wild fire sweep;
It flashes afar on the wayward stream
Of the wild Euripus, the rushing beam!
It rouses the light on Messapion's height,
And they feed its breath with the withered heath.
But it may not stay!
And away -- away --
It bounds in its freshening might.
Silent and soon,
Like a broadened moon,
It passes in sheen, Asopus green,
And bursts on Cithaeron gray!
The warder wakes to the Signal-rays,
And it swoops from the hill with a broader blaze.
On, on the fiery Glory rode;
Thy lonely lake, Gorgopis, glowed!
To Megara's Mount it came;
They feed it again
And it streams amain--
A giant beard of Flame!
The headland cliffs that darkly down
O'er the Saronic waters frown,
Are passed with the Swift One's lurid stride,
And the huge rock glares on the glaring tide.
With mightier march and fiercer power
It gained Arachne's neighboring tower;
Thence on our Argive roof its rest it won,
Of Ida's fire the long-descended Son!
Bright Harbinger of glory and of joy!
So first and last with equal honor crowned,
In solemn feasts the race-torch circles round. --
And these my heralds! -- this my SIGN OF PEACE;
Lo! while we breathe, the victor lords of Greece
Stalk, in stern tumult, through the halls of Troy!
3.7k
from Ida's height,
By the Fire-god sent, it came;
From watch to watch it leapt, that light,
As a rider rode the flame!
It shot through the startled sky,
And the torch of that blazing glory
Old Lemnos caught on high,
On its holy promontory,
And sent it on, the jocund sign,
To Athos, Mount of Jove divine.
Wildly the while, it rose from the isle,
So that the might of the journeying Light
Skimmed over the back of the gleaming brine!
Farther and faster speeds it on,
Till the watch that keeps Macistus steep
See it burst like a blazing Sun!
Doth Macistus sleep
On his tower-clad steep?
No! rapid and red doth the wild fire sweep;
It flashes afar on the wayward stream
Of the wild Euripus, the rushing beam!
It rouses the light on Messapion's height,
And they feed its breath with the withered heath.
But it may not stay!
And away -- away --
It bounds in its freshening might.
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 1:23 AM UTC
There was a Boy; ye knew him well, ye cliffs
And islands of Winander! many a time,
At evening, when the earliest stars began
To move along the edges of the hills,
Rising or setting, would he stand alone,
Beneath the trees, or by the glimmering lake;
And there, with fingers interwoven, both hands
Pressed closely palm to palm and to his mouth
Uplifted, he, as through an instrument,
Blew mimic hootings to the silent owls
That they might answer him.—And they would shout
Across the watery vale, and shout again,
Responsive to his call,—with quivering peals,
And long halloos, and screams, and echoes loud
Redoubled and redoubled; concourse wild
Of jocund din! And, when there came a pause
Of silence such as baffled his best skill:
Then, sometimes, in that silence, while he hung
Listening, a gentle shock of mild surprise
Has carried far into his heart the voice
Of mountain-torrents; or the visible scene
Would enter unawares into his mind
With all its solemn imagery, its rocks,
Its woods, and that uncertain heaven received
Into the ***** of the steady lake.
This boy was taken from his mates, and died
In childhood, ere he was full twelve years old.
Pre-eminent in beauty is the vale
Where he was born and bred: the churchyard hangs
Upon a slope above the village-school;
And through that churchyard when my way has led
On summer-evenings, I believe that there
A long half-hour together I have stood
Mute—looking at the grave in which he lies!
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Pearls bleed from the pores of my skin
sparks dance where your fingers touch
the ocean neath my lashes hides in ecstasy
the sun melts in the heat of our familiarity
the mist of my yearning deepens into a ravaging wave
your burning desire surmounts the effect of haoma
a delineation of this moment weakens my knees
I clasp the air and feel the hiemal wind chime
my mind bears a simulacrum of your perfection
exulting in the reminiscence of a beau ideal
when you whisper you will be back soon
my eyes close to annul our distance too defined
turning my heart jocund, my senses sublime.
Oct 12, 2012
Oct 12, 2012 at 12:59 PM UTC
Blithe dreams arise to greet us,
And life feels clean and new,
For the old love comes to meet us
In the dawning and the dew.
O'erblown with sunny shadows,
O'ersped with winds at play,
The woodlands and the meadows
Are keeping holiday.
Wild foals are scampering, neighing,
Brave merles their hautboys blow:
Come! let us go a-maying
As in the Long-Ago.
Here we but peak and dwindle:
The clank of chain and crane,
The whir of crank and spindle
Bewilder heart and brain;
The ends of our endeavour
Are merely wealth and fame,
Yet in the still Forever
We're one and all the same;
Delaying, still delaying,
We watch the fading west:
Come! let us go a-maying,
Nor fear to take the best.
Yet beautiful and spacious
The wise, old world appears.
Yet frank and fair and gracious
Outlaugh the jocund years.
Our arguments disputing,
The universal Pan
Still wanders fluting--fluting--
Fluting to maid and man.
Our weary well-a-waying
His music cannot still:
Come! let us go a-maying,
And pipe with him our fill.
When wanton winds are flowing
Among the gladdening glass;
Where hawthorn brakes are blowing,
And meadow perfumes pass;
Where morning's grace is greenest,
And fullest noon's of pride;
Where sunset spreads serenest,
And sacred night's most wide;
Where nests are swaying, swaying,
And spring's fresh voices call,
Come! let us go a-maying,
And bless the God of all!
1.7k
*Pristine bristle of the jocund dreams of dawn,
Dewy eyes, desolate witness of dirge,
Boldness of the unhunted fawn of joy,
Feelings beautiful and naive, feelings denied.
Fear awakes with the spirit of the morrow
And poisons dwell in the ruins of memory
For in the winds is writ that in Chaos is Sanctity*
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 3:00 PM UTC
*Love, where did it make?
And how my love far away from your heart
How it moves through my life?
It installed early when river initiated from a waterfall
It roosts into soul and flows through the vein and vale
And it is seeking the sea where it melts with me
The high Himalayas are out of my range
I could not climb it, she thought
And it makes a dark shadow
The difference between you and me
The shadow as the twilight of the horizon
And after then the dark,
The very dark wall
The poet has a pair of dreaming wings like an angel
And his mind is a gay in such a jocund company
He could, she can break the shadow in mind and soul
How long the shadow!
How thick the wall!
That never stronger than the passion of a poet -*
@ Musfiq us shaleheen & Vanessa Gatley
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 5:12 AM UTC
Fibromyalgia is a chronic muscle disorder characterized by widespread pain.
My mother's caramel hued skin has transitioned
to a much darker shade. Strands of hair gracefully
fall from her scalp as feelings of
agony and helplessness replace her
jocund spirit, destroying the essence
of who she once was. Her embodiment
deteriorates alongside her crumbling flesh.
Veins bulge underneath her skin; knots form
below her kneecaps; misery creeps up her spine.
As stridulous moans escape my mother's lips,
I can only offer sympathy. This disease latches on to
anyone within it's reach -- not only targeting
victims but their families as well. Like a predator,
fibromyalgia seeks to control every aspect of her
being – passionately tugging the affected between
the struggle to persevere or succumb to its' insanity.
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 1:38 PM UTC
Where no one can disdain
Where no one feel be scorned
Where no one try to brag
Where no one feel helpless
Where no one try to fight
Where no one try to get rid of
Where no need of a barren land
Where no need of desert insight
Where no need of any shyness
Where we would ready to hear the truth
And take it as a tweet of bird
Where flowers’ beauty and fragrance
Can lessen pangs and sorrows of
This cruel cunning ugly world
And we would start to dance in breeze
With the jocund company of You
When a tiny, an innocent
Shining and transparent dew drop
That cannot miss a chance in hurry
To make a snap impatiently
Be a witness!
Bless us O’ Lord!
Bless us a chance
O’ my Lord!
Jul 12, 2017
Jul 12, 2017 at 9:04 PM UTC
Desiccated is the human spirit:
Once saturated in the self-performed
Extolation and renown
Of which all men must feed,
Even this freedom has been exchanged for
Ebullience and rapture.
Is satiety truly saccharine,
Truly more than superficial
When one has not the freedoms of
Essence and respite;
The freedoms to
Experience and respect
Any other emotions but
Exhortation and reproach,
To wax jocund or reel in fear?
Such dichotomy is not spirit.
Excite and rebel!
For when freedom is sold,
So too is happiness-
And the human spirit
Cannot feed on
Extortion and resentment.
Surveillance is a miserable lot.
Jun 2, 2012
Jun 2, 2012 at 9:36 PM UTC
Let us be drunk, and for a while forget,
Forget, and, ceasing even from regret,
Live without reason and despite of rhyme,
As in a dream preposterous and sublime,
Where place and hour and means for once are met.
Where is the use of effort? Love and debt
And disappointment have us in a net.
Let us break out, and taste the morning prime . . .
Let us be drunk.
In vain our little hour we strut and fret,
And mouth our wretched parts as for a bet:
We cannot please the tragicaster Time.
To gain the crystal sphere, the silver dime,
Where Sympathy sits dimpling on us yet,
Let us be drunk!
***
When you are old, and I am passed away--
Passed, and your face, your golden face, is gray--
I think, whate'er the end, this dream of mine,
Comforting you, a friendly star will shine
Down the dim slope where still you stumble and stray.
So may it be: that so dead Yesterday,
No sad-eyed ghost but generous and gay,
May serve you memories like almighty wine,
When you are old!
Dear Heart, it shall be so. Under the sway
Of death the past's enormous disarray
Lies hushed and dark. Yet though there come no sign,
Live on well pleased: immortal and divine
Love shall still tend you, as God's angels may,
When you are old.
***
Beside the idle summer sea
And in the vacant summer days,
Light Love came fluting down the ways,
Where you were loitering with me.
Who has not welcomed, even as we,
That jocund minstrel and his lays
Beside the idle summer sea
And in the vacant summer days?
We listened, we were fancy-free;
And lo! in terror and amaze
We stood alone--alone at gaze
With an implacable memory
Beside the idle summer sea.
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Another day has passed by
The moon illuminates up high
Shining through the window's blinds
The cold wind begun to crawl behind
The crickets I hear made me unknot
Such a stressful day for a youth
A day of harrassment became so blunt
A part of me was lost like a missing tooth
I was intimidated by the fact
The truth that I was bullied by the society
Daggers of words are still intact
Cornering me in a room full of despondency
I let people disgust me
I let them misjudge my sincerity
I let the day becomes my misery
I let the day becomes the night of melancholy
Tick-tock-tick-tock
Here it comes, it's three o'clock
It's time for happiness until five
It's the moment of being alive
Finally, I have found peace
Where my heart is feeling glee
In a jocund room that I please
A room that has Him and me
It was then three o'clock;
where my soul peacefully lays
Wandering like a soft cloud
And the chirping of birds play
I thank God for being loved.
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 9:18 AM UTC
The
Drowsy dews
Engraves your name
Boldly amid the thorns of chilled~roses
■
So
Twerk nobly
And roll the blue pigeons
In me for trophies
■
But then
Let's marry together our lips
But to share,a sweet reverend kiss
And tune these red~roses blanch
■
Feel
The stars move
Roundabout my head
And together let's hold the rainbow
Splendour by sight
■
Toll
My hands
For every tender touch
But then,fathom deeply all the blush in me
■
Wrangle
Vanilla your arms around my neck
And rouse me to fear
But jocund,when I look into your eyes
Yet,impregnate me with your celestial desires
■
Civility!
You
Make me wonder
How you solemn calm my sighs
Of which haste in pants
■
Indeed
You are a sober tigeress
Misspoke of your elegant prowl
■
But now
Turn off the lights
And loft me the ranks
Of melting naked incense
And let's depart with a serene~peace
Beginners
©Historian E.Lexano
historianelexano.wordpress.com
Please kindly share
Feb 6, 2016
Feb 6, 2016 at 4:07 AM UTC
Let me offer you a blue and scarlet balance
To wish you on these jocund days of Christmas
What mortals tire not of wishing to themselves:
A fragrant, eternal equilibrium.
© LazharBouazzi (December 19, 2017)
Dec 19, 2017
Dec 19, 2017 at 7:48 AM UTC
956
What shall I do when the Summer troubles—
What, when the Rose is ripe—
What when the Eggs fly off in Music
From the Maple Keep?
What shall I do when the Skies a’chirrup
Drop a Tune on me—
When the Bee hangs all Noon in the Buttercup
What will become of me?
Oh, when the Squirrel fills His Pockets
And the Berries stare
How can I bear their jocund Faces
Thou from Here, so far?
’Twouldn’t afflict a Robin—
All His Goods have Wings—
I—do not fly, so wherefore
My Perennial Things?
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I am running through the Milky Way,
with love and hope perches into the soul,
dancing cloud flash the glee,
the peacock biding, rain could be
me for love
love for mine
Souls are jocund company while triumph of birds
twilight on face antecedents shine of love,
vitreous luster of a crystal as diamond,
the dark of the darkness beget the diamond,
dark defuses and alchemize,
the black grinned -
caliginous to illumine as a small table lamp
glimmer glee with the end of darkness.
I can hear babies are cackling in the next room.
@ Musfiq us shaleheen
Aug 2, 2014
Aug 2, 2014 at 1:33 AM UTC
the brightness of sun
the softly breathing song
the very jocund voice of love
whispered by the trees
drawn by the clouds
in every step she danced
was she blind
or was she dead
to realize that
the world was never cruel
love was never black-hearted
only blithesome day
was left to be enjoyed
for her who suffered enough
Mar 12, 2017
Mar 12, 2017 at 6:05 AM UTC
Look man
I know life
It seems pretty bleak.
We all like
To jest
And make each-other
Look weak.
You've joined in too,
Please don’t deny,
You’re saying I’m blue
And of the bickering kind.
Well I think that’s just rude,
Although a bit true,
That you've just assumed
That I miss loving blooms
In warm summers
Breezing lovely songbird tunes.
Just let me say:
I love the Thrushes,
Finches, and Jays.
King Fishers
Fishing all day.
You see?
I hear songbird tunes.
Now won’t you tell me
That you've heard some too?
Have I told you of the seasons?
Fall endings, winters blue,
And spring’s tree sons?
Please and thank you.
I love that you've given me a reason.
It’s not like people love to share words,
Through and through,
Like season's turn
From orange
To red
To blues
And green's hue.
I’m not trying to bicker,
Or be slicker,
I just like to snicker
And be jocund or lesser.
So thank you for the inspiration
From your modest interpretation
Of the infinitely doubtful implications you see
When others debate on philosophy,
The abstract, the riddles, trite jests, even
The summer breeze and society.
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 8:39 PM UTC