"kinsfolk" poems
A cold rain mingled with the river
at evening, when I entered Wu;
In the clear dawn I bid you farewell,
lonely as Ch'u Mountain.
My kinsfolk in Loyang,
should they ask about me,
Tell them: "My heart is a piece of ice
in a jade cup!"
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They hail me as one living,
But don’t they know
That I have died of late years,
Untombed although?
I am but a shape that stands here,
A pulseless mould,
A pale past picture, screening
Ashes gone cold.
Not at a minute’s warning,
Not in a loud hour,
For me ceased Time’s enchantments
In hall and bower.
There was no tragic transit,
No catch of breath,
When silent seasons inched me
On to this death …
—A Troubadour-youth I rambled
With Life for lyre,
The beats of being raging
In me like fire.
But when I practised eyeing
The goal of men,
It iced me, and I perished
A little then.
When passed my friend, my kinsfolk,
Through the Last Door,
And left me standing bleakly,
I died yet more;
And when my Love’s heart kindled
In hate of me,
Wherefore I knew not, died I
One more degree.
And if when I died fully
I cannot say,
And changed into the corpse-thing
I am to-day,
Yet is it that, though whiling
The time somehow
In walking, talking, smiling,
I live not now.
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Alone now in a strange country,
feeling myself a stranger,
On this bright festival day
I doubly pine for my kinsfolk.
Far away, I know my brothers
will be climbing the heights
With dogwood sprays in their jackets,
and one man missing!
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Himself it was who wrote
His rank, and quartered his own coat.
There is no king nor sovereign state
That can fix a hero's rate;
Each to all is venerable,
Cap-a-pie invulnerable,
Until he write, where all eyes rest,
Slave or master on his breast.
I saw men go up and down
In the country and the town,
With this prayer upon their neck,
"Judgment and a judge we seek."
Not to monarchs they repair,
Nor to learned jurist's chair,
But they hurry to their peers,
To their kinsfolk and their dears,
Louder than with speech they pray,
What am I? companion; say.
And the friend not hesitates
To assign just place and mates,
Answers not in word or letter,
Yet is understood the better;—
Is to his friend a looking-glass,
Reflects his figure that doth pass.
Every wayfarer he meets
What himself declared, repeats;
What himself confessed, records;
Sentences him in his words,
The form is his own corporal form,
And his thought the penal worm.
Yet shine for ever ****** minds,
Loved by stars and purest winds,
Which, o'er passion throned sedate,
Have not hazarded their state,
Disconcert the searching spy,
Rendering to a curious eye
The durance of a granite ledge
To those who gaze from the sea's edge.
It is there for benefit,
It is there for purging light,
There for purifying storms,
And its depths reflect all forms;
It cannot parley with the mean,
Pure by impure is not seen.
For there's no sequestered grot,
Lone mountain tam, or isle forgot,
But justice journeying in the sphere
Daily stoops to harbor there.
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(((( broken record ))))
..........it usually depends...........
.......on prevailing circumstances.......
The fragility, or inconsistency of excuses
Can't just ignore the gravity of a situation
Some behaviors....need immediate attention
Could also be....the dominant mood of the day
The five girls say, it's not the day's.........but mine
However they look at it, or feel about it....they obey
Right values must be inculcated in their growing minds
Words have to be repeated....clarified.....and emphasized
Advice given by kinsfolk, must be heard.............and I smile,
As I ignore their pouting lips...unnecessary frowns....snorting.
Can't ever be their Wonder Woman....to keep them from falling,
So, with a loud or modulated voice...I say my piece over and over
Like a record gone awry....playing off and on.....every now and then.
Got to be broken at times
Got to play my music
As often as needed.
Sally
Copyright May 7, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 11:10 PM UTC
How could you take my life
When we drink from the same river?
How could you hurt me
When we eat at the same table?
Why plot against my kinsfolk
When we are born of one nature?
Why deny my offspring food
While yours grow obese?
Why must we sleep rough
While hotels sit empty?
Why is your body of a different class
When the carbon that makes me is identical to yours?
We are from the same mould
Eternally connected
Our minds may be different
Our bodies from one soil
Nov 30, 2016
Nov 30, 2016 at 8:14 AM UTC
Hal drew his sword from it’s long sheath
and faced his nemesis on this dark heath
and fought for life and fought till death
his enemy taking his last foul breath.
Long times this family feud had raged
and in its wake young men had aged
for now the devil would breathe no more
till others rose to settle the score.
Returned he then to his peaceful life
sharing in joy with his new young wife
and she did bear him fine young sons
he hoped his violent past was gone.
But the devil will often find ways back
and thus with time came a new attack
so Hal’s son drew his father’s sword
this ancient duel his family reward.
The feud had lasted for ere so long
kinsfolk recalled it oft in song
of troubles over betrayals done
and deathly duels betwixt each first son.
And then one day Hal’s nemesis fell
and hurt them-self as he could tell
he lowered his sword and approached his foe
removing helmet let long hair flow.
This time it seemed there was no heir
but duty fell to the eldest there
and so the woman had taken up sword
for she too felt her kin’s reward.
But Hal had fallen deep in love
so swore that he’d not raise a glove
and she too felt her heart was won
the betrayal forgotten they were as one.
©Joe Wilson – A son’s tale…
This was just a story set in medieval England
where unimaginatively all first sons are called Hal.
I’ve tried to write it in that kind of style.
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 5:29 AM UTC
Political Dynasty
--Elle.Prvnt
Politics isn’t about competing for accolade
But for the good things you’ve made
Rulers, people placed all of you in position
To help our dear nation
You help the citizens, you may say
You can tell that boastfully
But answer this question in good way-
Are those things wholeheartedly?
From ages to ages, the politics grow
But the government’s false systems never go
Now I know that over falsehood, we can’t win
The ruler’s throne is passed on his every kin.
I thought that only on ancient times I could see
The so-called Dynasty
But I was wrong, because when the truth unfolded,
The azure skies turn red
I found my pen ‘neath the somber night
And I know what it portrays
So my heart didn’t hesitate to write
The things on these present days
Your kinsfolk spread on the near and distant regions
For what- for corruptions?
O, be true on yourself and do not be guilty
‘cause that’s what people see
Do not boast about the things you did
Or even say that you’re great
Wake up! pride flows on your every deed
Cruelty lies on your heart’s gate!
As the dark years of dawning long-term service rise,
Men were filled with deep sighs
What happened to the votes, what happen to their trust
Why corruption didn’t last?
Servants of my country, hear my voice
Do not hide on the shadow
For the truth will come, bringing a noise
To the days of tomorrow
I know that to help the people is your aim
But it is obvious that you only want fame
Are you a good leader of society,
With astray brain full of greed and vanity?
You can pretend that you give hands to the poor
With fake smiles on them, you can take a picture
Hey Mr. Corrupt, I know your idea
That is impress the people, use the media!
You may say I’m young because I’m only fifteen
But I know, truth shall win!
Why you didn’t let the others serve the people
Is there any trouble?
Or are you scared of the true stories?
False rulers, you’ll see one day
The revelations that never cease
Lies will unfold, truth will stay.
Say now that you’ve done many things in service
Those where your obligations! on boasting- cease!
I know you know that your high soaring ego
Will make you suffer the truth and you’ll fall low.
How can people respect you as good leaders,
With your falsehood, how can we be followers?
And if there is political dynasty,
How can we reach country’s success, how can we??
Aug 4, 2017
Aug 4, 2017 at 11:35 PM UTC
A beloved nugget of stripes
In patterns of mishap and balderdash
Feigned frameworks and gaudy hips & knees
Overpowered sugar pops, winsome hard cash
They're blondes and fairly vivid, too
Daffodils, Butterscotch, Tuscan sun, and Flaxen yellow
No blackheart is pale nor blue
Just a poor Biscotti hue
Nobody's bonafide, they're just showing off the mellow
Their words are such sharp needles
It burns, it stings, it maims, and it breaks
Narrowed venoms kindled
Maneuver you in a splendor Kaleidoscope effects
I shrieked, "save the bees!",
For they are in a fathomless pit of catastrophe
Flutter thy pellucid wings over the sly seas
Flummoxed between the avocation and the trickery
I aimed, they dodged
Straightforward to the flames and a scant of birch trees
Overdosed in farcical prescriptions,
Engulfed with many bad decisions,
They hushed me down but in my mind, I would still be yelling,
"Save the bees! Save the bees!"
Women are indeed virtuous
Yet, how come some of them became Bumblebees?
Floret power, sweet & sour
An infrequent version of wannabes
No matter how I try and aid,
It would be cheap and phooey
Only savvy kinsfolk will exploit or capitalize
These honey-bees will still strive for the polished trophies
May 31, 2018
May 31, 2018 at 6:45 AM UTC
A **** of lightning’s searing blast
that ripped across her rib cage’s sky
had torn anew through clouds aghast
at what the storm had loosed from on high.
The brooding might of the blackened squall
kicked up the chill winds of her innerscape
and hurled down hailstones, icy *****
that pummeled the pit of her belly’s nape.
To tame this tempest, this wrecking gale,
felt too by the kaleidoscope of her spirit’s kin,
she in and exhaled breaths of kindness to regale
her kinsfolk around her with fresh air within.
Though the storm reared terrible and bleak
above these heads bowed and burdened below,
their sparks of lightning that blazed and streaked
were together tamed to a shared soft glow.
They held tight the hands of those around
who quailed in fright as thunder drums
to form a circuit bright which surrounds
and transforms dark sparks to delightful suns.
Nov 7, 2024
Nov 7, 2024 at 7:04 AM UTC
Reduction asper daylight hours to worship
will immediately arise after
2018 North American orbital trip,
viz zits summer solstice (human primal
solar deification) riding astride spaceship
Earth, albeit 6:07 Ante Meridiem
Thursday June 21st noticeably slip
ping thru space beginning to harvest
incremental darkness as Gaia rip
pulls across wrinkle in time
daylight will undermine a loss,
and over the next month approximately jip
ping United States kinsfolk, who revere El Sol
quotidian solar rays, by one hour
and eight minutes (i.e. 4080 seconds),
thence trumpeting seriously
moonlighting re:
getting down to brass tacks business - grip
ping a markedly steadfast advancement,
whence August arrives (watch out),
cuz cutthroat prime rate (zero APR) doth clip,
and clock about two minutes per diem,
quite a substantial blip.
Jun 21, 2018
Jun 21, 2018 at 2:59 AM UTC
Close your eyes to all you've been- forget all that you know,
Free your mind from darkness and let hope begin to grow.
Place your hand within mine- let our energies combine,
Feel the world retreating and the pain within resign.
Follow me through shadows- find the light that we all seek,
Keep me in your thoughts and hear the soothing words I speak.
Wake up to the morning- greet the dawn of this new day,
See the world in colour not that sad and lonely gray.
Breathe in the scent of freedom- clear the worry from your mind,
Walk tall amongst your kinsfolk and enjoy the peace you find.
Share your life with others- help them conquer all their fear,
Protect all those around you and forever hold love near.
Live each day within the light- don't let the darkness in,
Lead by your example and absolve yourself from sin.
Change the world around you- only you can claim this power,
Rest when all the work is done and dwell not on the hour.
Take comfort when the end is near- you will not be alone,
Remember I am with you and have shared in all you've known.
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 3:03 PM UTC
His death could oh so easily have been avoided
At eighteen he was far far too young to die
But the belief that lay within him was so powerful
Now his family have just the memories and they cry.
Men have always gone off fighting for their ideals
And their kinsfolk are the one’s put under strain
For the sickening news that often gets brought to them
Turns their once sun-happy days to ones of rain.
It doesn’t matter a single jot whose side they fight on
The resulting family heartache is still the same
There are those who would use these young men’s keenness
And exploit them in their own political game.
There’s a funeral now as another boy is laid down
And his family are beside themselves in grief
But governments have been this young man’s killer
Politicians stole his heartbeat like a thief.
©Joe Wilson – A stolen heartbeat…2014
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 8:22 AM UTC
I was a captive
Of the words, promises-made
Of the lips, lies incarnate
Of the eyes, opened to discriminate
Of the world, caged within a condemnatory kinsfolk
I was a captive
and my actions were limited
I was a captive
So are the words my tongue exhibits, scripted
I was a captive
So are my thoughts, being dictated
I was a captive
So as my freedom, chained to words
Restrained, shackled, suppressed-
I was a captive
I was weak
I live in fear
I was discriminated
I was rejected
I wasn’t wanted..
I was chased
But couldn’t catch me
I was a captive
I was shot
But they missed
I was a captive
I was poisoned
but survived
for I was immune
I was a captive
I was a captive
I may had
But I am limited edition
I was chaos
Now I’m war-
My thoughts are limitless
Bound to be border-less
I am power
I am strength
I am storm,
Unstoppable, deadly-
I was a captive
But not anymore
Triggered Letters
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 5:00 AM UTC
transmitted ****** talks
(partially presented pablum pertaining
particularly - president ***** (PAC -
******* action *** mitt tee)
portfolio ******* philandering)
baneful boorish boastful bullheaded
Brobdingnagian beastie boy balks.
conspicuously cavalierly crudely curtly
cavorts, capitulating, claiming,
championing crying chauvinistic
concupiscence, ****** cupidity caul
king crooked cowboy cakewalks.
Donald daringly, dastardly, defiantly,
demonstrably, deplorably, deprecatingly,
devilishly, divinely dumbfounded,
duplicitously desultory, debauched, duckwalks.
eccentric effrontery, egregiously enervating,
excitedly exculpatory, extremely evil eyestalk.
"fake," faultily fervently fiendishly flagrant
fool, frightful.
gaffe galling, gamesome gawker, generating
gerrymandering.
harboring hectoring heinously hellishly
hideously horrendously horrible hulk.
ignominious illicit ilk, imbecilic immodest
immoral impetuous, impishly impudent,
incarcerate, incinerate indecently, indecorous,
iniquitous, intently intolerant, irascible
irksome, itching ii incite iv iiiiii ix *********** izards.
jowly ******* jackdaw jackknifing jaywalking
jumping **** jilting jinn.
knowingly keeping kryptonite, ***** Kardashian
kvetches, kris kringle ken kool, kissing kitty,
kosher kumquats kippered, k-nine kooky korps,
kowtowing ku klux **** kinsfolk.
legal leafstalk lawlessly locked, lacerated,
lambasted, languished lost lively lust,
limped, legal levity limited.
menfolk made macho mission. many moons
monthly mandate marked maybe mars,
mercurial maladroit monkey manumission modified
modus mystifying maze moonwalk.
Mar 23, 2018
Mar 23, 2018 at 6:43 PM UTC
There's whiskey in my teacup,
A hint of roasted grain at the tip of my tongue.
Mmm what a satisfying way to commence one's day.
With an inspiration to my step I greet thy mundane day,
With a challenged mind and ready eye.
To weave the threads of life into a storybook,
To cast thy kinsfolk into a world of simulation, thrill, and suspension.
This is thou greatest honor, pleasure, and privilege.
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 12:48 PM UTC