"juno" poems
I wish I could be as vibrant and bold as a sunflower
Wish my petals could stretch towards the sun
in hopes of growing. I wish these pale painted
faces would stare in awh instead of disgust.
I wish I was as yellow as a sunflower
or maybe an oddly pink tone fleshed with red
I want my color to be praised not discussed
like dirt being picked out of fingers
I have come to the realization that I am a sunflower
Beautiful, bold, and magical
My brown petals stretch out from limb to limb
meeting at my bud with a smile so dazzling
and eyes small but fill with love and hope.
I am a sunflower in the boldest of ways possible
like coffee with no sugar no cream. I am loved like Jupiter
loves Juno, My brightness is appreciated like a full moon
at 12 midnight. I could fill a whole field with my petals
just for your grazing but you don't deserve it.
I am a sunflower. What are you?
Oct 13, 2016
Oct 13, 2016 at 8:57 PM UTC
what is this mind that was given to me that is able to see things i print on screen with my digital zip drive of a brain that is stuck inside a laptop main frame, ******* server uploading and crashing sending pings and things to hackers who perform doss attacks and web cracks and serial cracks while eating cereal going over javascript material program landslide juno got bit by emails and other technical software jargin computer guy got the blue screen of death corruption on the web the spider metacrawling and setting it on angelfire i google the facebook twitter and hot wire my car on the trader the wall street journal and the white house, **** sites and white owls, getting arrested and being hired by the government, the money's spent, criminal punishment, in cells locked up no breakfast but lunch under the crack of a door inside ur naked *** on irc chat, the warez rat, pirates on bays and whispers from kittens, brown paper packages exploding a smidgeon, binary, metamorphosis, code program gold, warning anti virus and spywares, baghdad to china, spy on private, eyes on cameras, cell phones like trackers, global position mappers, predator drones, video games, nfl madden, mad men, and happy wal marts, hacking wal mart, with social engineers, traveling the silk road with a cloak ip address revoked
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 4:15 AM UTC
On a day—alack the day!—
Love, whose month is ever May,
Spied a blossom passing fair
Playing in the wanton air:
Through the velvet leaves the wind
All unseen ‘gan passage find;
That the lover, sick to death,
Wish’d himself the heaven’s breath.
Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow;
Air, would I might triumph so!
But, alack, my hand is sworn
Ne’er to pluck thee from thy thorn:
Vow, alack, for youth unmeet;
Youth so apt to pluck a sweet!
Do not call it sin in me
That I am forsworn for thee;
Thou for whom e’en Jove would swear
Juno but an Ethiop were;
And deny himself for Jove,
Turning mortal for thy love.
7.4k
Love came to Flora asking for a flower
That would of flowers be undisputed queen,
The lily and the rose, long, long had been
Rivals for that high honor. Bards of power
Had sung their claims. "The rose can never tower
Like the pale lily with her Juno mien" —
"But is the lily lovelier?" Thus between
Flower-factions rang the strife in Psyche's bower.
"Give me a flower delicious as the rose
And stately as the lily in her pride" —
But of what color?" — "Rose-red," Love first chose,
Then prayed — "No, lily-white — or, both provide;"
And Flora gave the lotus, "rose-red" dyed,
And "lily-white" — the queenliest flower that blows.
6.2k
mean beam bottom ***** without reluctance.
\\ air above \\
since forever baby boy: since forever liquid sparkler.
he has sense
& peanut butter jelly geography to his page.
his romance is of the west.
his eyes are of dandelions kicked & to the wind.
he moves like ancient turtle migration.
reaches feet to sidewalk \\ sand to depths \\ ride \\
night:
velcro-tightened mind withstanding.
party lights, ***** willows, retro punch, he
is orpheus descending: with all the elements positioned just so.
\\ jellyfish electric \\
he says he likes the loneliness.
he says it’s the water.
& so he moves \\ wills himself into the next measure.
liquid resolute bits.
so move \\ orca \\
curl of eye \\ so ride \\ black rollo wave \\
basilica \\ & \\
coral reaches below \\\\\
he likes to tell it, with warmed exaggeration.
slow-motion buffalo stampede. ride the railroads free & easy.
orange glowing bars of elsewhere. oscillating seal calls.
oily portland hipsters howling on the beach. those
juno cheeked rosy-red lips.
somewhere, sister getting married.
spring, summer, fall, winter, spring.
africa girl on a branch of a tree of a forest, overlooking elephant burial grounds.
color & white material:
plantations, gas stations, diners, & sharks.
this is the morning lunar \\
sweet blue beach of the old & awakening.
he crawls out & into her breaks.
her deep heights & bombora reef. the serotonin
functions twice, exposed between thin tissues of warm-blooded neurochemistry.
human, shown.
he is as a raw page, blank, yet
dipped \\
\\ so ride \\ bulbous waves of air mother agua \\
ride \\ &
\\ ride \\ &
brew by light these occurrences forever.
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 4:41 AM UTC
Shoulder to shoulder you bands of brothers landed.
Code name Operation Neptune was underway.
You noble breed, not knowing what lay ahead
Just knowing that your duty was called upon.
The bugle sounded, you all answered the call
nobly you waded those waters for all.
06/06/1944 was the day.
The largest seaborne invasion in history.
Yet, you brothers in arms were not caring of history making
Just making it to the beach, alive.
I can but humbly thank you for what you all did that day,
you that lived and those that died.
What thoughts must have played in your mind.
A lone piper played throughout, what courage you all displayed.
No wonder we that came after you, leave you feeling dismayed.
Many wars have been fought since, their courage is also undenied,
but, you, you thousands on those beaches showed the world the meaning
of pride, respect and warrior.
On the beaches of Utah, Omaha, Gold, Juno and Sword,
you carved a way in. To end the war.
Nobler people I doubt exist, and soon this 70th anniversary
will fade in time, but not that date of June the sixth (1944)
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 1:37 PM UTC
Gloomy skies line the beaches
Treacherous waves battering the landing crafts
Young soldiers getting sick sea in the swells
But their fate is written in front of them
Omaha, Normandy, Gold, Juno and Sword Beach
The day, June 6, 1944
Bullets flying over their heads
Whizzing by in deafening silence
One soldier is killed, then the next one
They hit the beach hard
Operation Overlord is in full swing
156,000 soldiers invade the sands
Duty, devotion and determination
Hell is about to be unleashed
Machine gun nests attack
Mowing down the enemy that invade them
Strike them with hot metal bullets
into blood soaked seas
The smell of war is everywhere
and time slowed to a ticking second hand
Fellow soldiers killed in front of you
No time to think but you have to move on
**** the enemy, **** the enemy
The beaches turn crimson with the fallen
Can not turn back
The chaos surrounds you with a deadly grip
Six days of heavy fighting to unite the beach front
10,000 wounded, over 4,000 dead
Sacrifices of so many
on the day the bullets hit the beach
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 5:50 PM UTC
That you are fair or wise is vain,
Or strong, or rich, or generous;
You must have also the untaught strain
That sheds beauty on the rose.
There is a melody born of melody,
Which melts the world into a sea.
Toil could never compass it,
Art its height could never hit,
It came never out of wit,
But a music music-born
Well may Jove and Juno scorn.
Thy beauty, if it lack the fire
Which drives me mad with sweet desire,
What boots it? what the soldier's mail,
Unless he conquer and prevail?
What all the goods thy pride which lift,
If thou pine for another's gift?
Alas! that one is born in blight,
Victim of perpetual slight;—
When thou lookest in his face,
Thy heart saith, Brother! go thy ways!
None shall ask thee what thou doest,
Or care a rush for what thou knowest,
Or listen when thou repliest,
Or remember where thou liest,
Or how thy supper is sodden,—
And another is born
To make the sun forgotten.
Surely he carries a talisman
Under his tongue;
Broad are his shoulders, and strong,
And his eye is scornful,
Threatening, and young.
I hold it of little matter,
Whether your jewel be of pure water,
A rose diamond or a white,—
But whether it dazzle me with light.
I care not how you are drest,
In the coarsest, or in the best,
Nor whether your name is base or brave,
Nor tor the fashion of your behavior,—
But whether you charm me,
Bid my bread feed, and my fire warm me,
And dress up nature in your favor.
One thing is forever good,
That one thing is success,—
Dear to the Eumenides,
And to all the heavenly brood.
Who bides at home, nor looks abroad,
Carries the eagles, and masters the sword.
3.8k
January 15th 1947;
Asteroid Juno viewed in the night sky
for the first time in 40 years... seen by thousands.
Elizabeth Smart steps out for the night.
looks to the sky, sees the trailing light.
she shivers a bit at the wonderful sight...
Unfortunately;
not a soul, seen Elizabeth get brutally murdered...
The Black Dahlia
was cut in two,
a rose laying next to her,
splayed to view...
A tidal wave of questions
still rocks L.A
people want answers
why the killer got away...
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 2:56 AM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, this is my revival:p
this time I fluctuate
I breathe annihilation
what got rid of me I got rid of liberation
the hurt carried on the pearl as seen before
makes me moon the past a perfect doom not ignore
more I find reckless but in good tenders
bile arisen comes to a chocolate cake remembers
something for me for once and all
the apart rejoined from the great unregretted fall
said suffer time on the twentieth last of year
a June not ought for my happiness not dear
not a remnant
since then but not worth the resentment
other than a rapid eye above buried graves
let be dreaded for my save
mentioned a one to hurt one to dream
a revival knows the uniqueness that beams
now one to petty one to go
one to memory one to soon
my compass is to be found in dune
-----ravenfeels
Jun 1, 2021
Jun 1, 2021 at 5:22 PM UTC
The wind chimes are melting,
The ponds are sweltering,
The roads run like black tea;
The flags aren't waving,
Sheets aren't sailing,
The grass looks like gold wheat.
The beaches have more bodies
Than Juno did in June;
The dogs aren't barking,
But the kids are laughing,
Their joy's not lost on me.
I should go to the banks
Of the St. Clair River,
Where the current cools
Beneath the bridges;
Read the names on the Huron freighters
Carrying coal and oil;
Eat tasty dogs and greasy fries,
The northern breeze there never dies.
I should hover like a dragonfly,
Applaud the divers hot ******* chances,
In the dog days of their youth.
Aug 3, 2019
Aug 3, 2019 at 9:42 AM UTC
Could Juno’s self more sovereign presence wear
Than thou, ’mid other ladies throned in grace?—
Or Pallas, when thou bend’st with soul-stilled face
O’er poet’s page gold-shadowed in thy hair?
Dost thou than Venus seem less heavenly fair
When o’er the sea of love’s tumultuous trance
Hovers thy smile, and mingles with thy glance
That sweet voice like the last wave murmuring there?
Before such triune loveliness divine
Awestruck I ask, which goddess here most claims
The prize that, howsoe’er adjudged, is thine?
Then Love breathes low the sweetest of thy names;
And Venus Victrix to my heart doth bring
Herself, the Helen of her guerdoning.
1.6k
When the fog burns off and the air's pulverized
diamonds and you can see beyond the islands
of forever!—far too dramatic for me. It hurts
something behind my eyes near the sphenoid,
not good. I prefer fog with fog behind it,
uninflammable fog. Then there's no competition
for brightness, no Byron for your Shelley,
no Juno eclisping your Athena, no big bridge
statement about bringing unity to landmasses.
All the thought balloons are blank. The marching
band can't practice, even a bird's got to get
within five feet before it can start an argument.
Like dead flies on the sill of an abandoned
nursery, we too are seeds in the rattle
of mortality. A foglike baby god
picks it up, shakes it, laughs insanely
then goes back to playing with her feet.
I have felt awful cold and lonely and fog
has been blotting paper to my tears.
My dog is fog and I don't have to scoop
its **** with my hand in a plastic bag.
There are sensations that begin in the world,
the mind responding with ideas but then
those ideas cause other sensations.
What a mess. We stand at the edge
of a drop that doesn't answer back,
fog our only friend although it's hell
on shrimpboats. There, there, says the fog.
Where, where? You can't see a thing.
by D. Young
21 Feb 2014
Feb 21, 2014
Feb 21, 2014 at 2:06 AM UTC
Sharp rocks mark my skin
Ice water fills my boots
There is a distinctive high whine
followed by a deafening explosion
4 dead
7 injured
The screams and shrieks
of men
who feel like boys
calling for their mother
or for a god
are drowned out by the
fast paced “clickclickclick”
13 dead
10 injured
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 3:08 PM UTC
Putting the trash out
after Juno is hard
work—the streets clogged
with cars—the aftermath
anticipation cabin fever craziness
of climate change &
unrepentant capitalism colliding—google
paradise—putting the trash
out with news of
intolerance reaching a fever
pitch all around me
is hard—google paradise—
a gaggle of small
birds on the shopping
cart at Whole foods—
cabin fever—rampant well-armed
intolerance going nuts…
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 6:53 AM UTC
Tell, if thou canst, and truly, whence doth come
This camphire, storax, spikenard, galbanum,
These musks, these ambers, and those other smells
Sweet as the Vestry of the Oracles.
I’ll tell thee:—while my Julia did unlace
Her silken bodice but a breathing space,
The passive air such odour then assumed
As when to Jove great Juno goes perfumed,
Whose pure immortal body doth transmit
A scent that fills both heaven and earth with it.
1.4k
Standing on a launchpad
I was readied for a push
Countdown had begun
The trajectory was set
And I was prepared,
For a journey unmade
The gush of fire beneath
Had ****** me up
And as the fuel burned,
I moved ahead
Against the friction
Of atmosphere
Against the Earth's
Gravity
Into the
Stratosphere.
I left behind
The ball of life
Traveled beyond,
Much beyond
into the abyss of
Space
I surpassed the red Mars
Towards the Giant.
Jupiter!
That's where I was headed,
A journey that was
Never before made.
Through the dark of
Space
Through the unseen
Light
Traveling in
Time
Traversing the
Unknown
I finally touched
The ****** soil,
Of Jupiter.
A journey that was
Never before made,
Is now, a journey
Accomplished.
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 12:15 PM UTC
*my my, ain't it June?! Juno, why have you given these poor people snowballs?! it's June and my central heating is on, it's close to 10 degrees Celsius, Bavaria is flooded, people embraced Einstein's relativity of the collapse of the = sign using a parabola, forgetting the basic Newtonian: cause & effect - the moment i coupled Socratic abhorrence of moral relativism, i took to dislike relativism kindred of: claustrophobia and agoraphobia... at some point Einstein's relativity equates space as time, rather than what Newton would suggest trans linear: algebraic squared, Newton still resides in cause & effect, space = ~space, given: 1 = millimetre, kilometre, and any other division... likewise with time... 20th century fashion being the perfect crop of quantum plagiarism, although in the 21st century the dance loop jumping between decades, back in the 20th century a linear expression, an evolution; quantum physics doesn't deal with linear excavations necessarily repeated, it's just repeats what is unnecessary. global warming and the mini ice age, June's here, Einstein too, Newton too, relatively speaking we're aether imprints... speaking via causality we're leaving a carbon footprint - well, **** me, two plus two... it's still scientific negativism, dietary requirements of modern man overshadowed all the scientific progresses in the field... never mind the cure for cancer! never mind that! as long as we can dress a diabetic in Lycra for bariatric surgery - never had i had i heard of such gastronomy, should it have been a pork chop smoked using zyklon B.*
we are living in the age of scientific negativism,
atheism a third limb
and our existential concerns reduced to
hamsters, calories and treadmills:
the basis of all modern inquisitiveness /
Aristotelian awe reduced to rubrics of dieticians
rather than theologians: at least with the latter
we could see the simple mind, hunched
in prayer... with the former we are experiencing
robots repeating the daily 2000 Kcal intake requirement
for a flat stomach... honestly, i prefer the praying
type, than the type regurgitating facts concerning
their diet - at least the former state of affairs
kept them shut up and mumbling, gesticulating
a type of shadow boxing while befriending
Jacob wrestling with an angel - at least that!
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 7:49 PM UTC
From Publius to Terra
Salve, amore mea,
I greet you from this new land,
My heart heavy with your absence,
Yet buoyed by the promise of our home.
...
Spare no thought for toils unfit for you,
My love, whose radiance rivals Juno.
A grand atrium will welcome your step,
Adorned with garlands for your triumph.
...
Through halls paved with Jove’s mosaic might,
Pastoral murals of Ceres’ fields will bloom,
Reflecting our farm in vibrant hues,
Your presence warming my impluvium’s heart.
...
A bedchamber awaits, fit for royalty,
Arched with cubes where Cupid dances,
His bow drawn to bind your heart to mine,
Sealing our love in eternal embrace.
...
All that remains is to build and sow,
Tilling under Sol and Luna’s gaze.
Watch over me, amore, from afar,
Your love my guide through field and toil.
...
I’ll write again with tales of this land,
Till our home rises to greet you.
Vale, amore mea,
The work endures for you.
Signed, PERTINAX
Aug 28, 2024
Aug 28, 2024 at 11:25 PM UTC
I call friends
Those who
I have been drunk with,
But not only that -
That'd be too easy.
To be my friend
One has to have seen me
Dressed in womens' clothes,
Or have watched Juno for the first time,
Or have watched Lion King over and over,
Or have seen bright new colors together,
Or crossed an ocean with me,
Or shared during 5 years dreams of a lifetime,
Or dragged me out of a downward spiral,
Or have been invited to my parents' house,
Or new it had no locks (most of the time),
Or have played 16-bit games with me,
Or have me sleeping out of home,
Or traded a party for a school work,
Or fought with a friend to leave to the party,
Or took me for a brother, and still does it,
Or sheltered me when I was desperate,
Or took me in for a job,
Or partnered in an enterprise with me,
Or shared all toys with me,
Or hold me when I was all cracks,
Or adopted street cats with me,
Or have known me for more than 25 years
(and endured me at least 50 days a year),
Or introduced me to movies and music,
Or expanded my horizons with philosophy,
Or criticized my guitar playing,
Or have been a sister to me,
Or have jumped from a moving car,
Or shared a 16-people house with me,
Or have shown me underground culture,
Or have played in a bar with me while 5 years old,
Or have played football (Brazilian-like) at least 30 times,
Or have changed a name for a Pokémon,
Or have lived with me in a hunted house,
Every bit I am
Somehow, I owe it to you.
Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 11:38 PM UTC
alright.
so i'm determined to write about something other than this boy
because i keep writing poems about him
and they basically all sound the same
because i think maybe i'm desperately in love with him
and he hurts me
all the time without knowing
but i'm going to write this poem about something else.
i'm going to talk about grocery lists
and cell phone numbers
and matching pale blue shirts
and push up bras that make me blink rapidly.
garage sales where i buy a wallet, a movie or two, a dress with a stain
on the top left shoulder
but it smells really nice.
and vegetarians.
why are they all vegetarians?
i'll talk about
tall glasses of cold milk
and little old ladies with bonnets on their heads.
how could anyone steal from her?
it broke my heart to see her cry as she spoke to the police officer.
i'll talk about not wearing ******* on a sunday night at the computer
wearing that dress with the stain
that i bought at the garage sale (smells like clean laundry and my fifth grade teacher)
and an uncomfortable bra
my scalp is itchy
i'm going to write about new york.
it's so ****** far away
but movies make me feel like i live there.
and movies that are set in minnesota(my homestate)
make me feel depressed and angry
(like NewInTown,Juno ***** that crap. we aren't like that.)
wow, this poem ***** even worse than the ones about that boy.
life is funny that way
Aug 7, 2011
Aug 7, 2011 at 8:42 PM UTC
I hated it
when your beauty
had to be seen
by countless sets of eyes.
Your shapes and tones
tampered by a
carefully blended touch
of Lark and Juno
as if they represent you well.
I still know
those details
dumb pictures could
never tell.
I hated it
that I knew you were once
carefree.
One, two, three;
Now you wait and count
as they gift
two-dimensional hearts
through ungrateful fingertips.
By then your pedestal
moved up the
ever-refreshing gallery—
A glorified platform
where your beauty
is seen as commodity.
I knew a better use of
those fingers
at that time your
textures lingered.
Soft and calm,
damp and warm;
you were unparalleled
at least for me.
I hate it
that now my
proximate gazes
only graze
your distorted
ideals of real touch
and of real pain;
when each ornate sunrise
embedded on the
landscape of your pores
seek for a casual
tourist's approval.
Hell, I wanted to stay
like an immigrant castaway
living in your skin
day and night;
when you didn't need
to trend
and pretend
that you have certain angles
because you were a
three-fucking-sixty—
A panoramic view
of an ancient city
and your valleys were never dry;
back to the era
when you never had to try.
For you I was always homesick
but I still know
to get burnt by young love
was quick.
We were bound
to grow apart.
I hate it
when all I could do
is scroll up
and forget you.
Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 11:08 AM UTC
Did you barter for your cow-eyes?
Trade a lock of hair - or David's lyre?
For the right to the king,
The golden apple. Taking a bite of (lust.)
the knowledge of good, evil, and discord.
Looking into the eye of the LORD
(saying mine, all mine.)
For a soak in full view- seems a glimpse was all it took (but you took it all).
Bathsheba - mastering Venus, flouting Juno-
Did you barter for your white arms?
Nov 30, 2012
Nov 30, 2012 at 2:55 PM UTC
and i can't even stomach the movie Juno
without thinking of your lips on my skin
Sea of Love was our anthem
and darling
our sea of love hath overflown
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 4:01 AM UTC