"lation" poems
No spring nor summer Beauty hath such grace
As I have seen in one autumnall face.
Young beauties force our love, and that’s a ****
This doth but counsel, yet you cannot ’scape.
If ’twere a shame to love, here ’twere no shame,
Affection here takes Reverence’s name.
Were her first years the Golden Age; that’s true,
But now she’s gold oft tried, and ever new.
That was her torrid and inflaming time,
This is her tolerable Tropique clime.
Fair eyes, who asks more heat than comes from hence,
He in a fever wishes pestilence.
Call not these wrinkles, graves; if graves they were,
They were Love’s graves; for else he is no where.
Yet lies not Love dead here, but here doth sit
Vowed to this trench, like an Anachorit.
And here, till hers, which must be his death, come,
He doth not dig a grave, but build a tomb.
Here dwells he, though he sojourn ev’ry where,
In progress, yet his standing house is here.
Here, where still evening is; not noon, nor night;
Where no voluptuousness, yet all delight
In all her words, unto all hearers fit,
You may at revels, you at counsel, sit.
This is Love’s timber, youth his under-wood;
There he, as wine in June enrages blood,
Which then comes seasonabliest, when our taste
And appetite to other things is past.
Xerxes’ strange Lydian love, the Platane tree,
Was loved for age, none being so large as she,
Or else because, being young, nature did bless
Her youth with age’s glory, Barrenness.
If we love things long sought, Age is a thing
Which we are fifty years in compassing;
If transitory things, which soon decay,
Age must be loveliest at the latest day.
But name not winter-faces, whose skin’s slack;
Lank, as an unthrift’s purse; but a soul’s sack;
Whose eyes seek light within, for all here’s shade;
Whose mouths are holes, rather worn out than made;
Whose every tooth to a several place is gone,
To vex their souls at Resurrection;
Name not these living deaths-heads unto me,
For these, not ancient, but antique be.
I hate extremes; yet I had rather stay
With tombs than cradles, to wear out a day.
Since such love’s natural lation is, may still
My love descend, and journey down the hill,
Not panting after growing beauties so,
I shall ebb out with them, who homeward go.
1.5k
Without frustration ideas are put into rotation.
Absorb them and keep flowing like blood circulation.
I could tell you, but I prefer demonstration.
In recent years I've really learned to be patient.
How you choose to endure the rollercoaster ride you're on makes a really big statement.
Changing the chemistry witihin me has been the biggest payment.
Yet I still don't sleep at night and wonder where the day went.
To many I can seem absurd,
and to most the symbols are just words.
My biggest fear is leaving this place unheard and passing before my children's third birthdays.
Done so much in life already but maybe not the right way.
Obstacles have never been so fascinating,
and may not play out according to this mental map I'm making,
but I won't be taking anything for granted.
I try to understand it, or sit blissfully in a mystery.
Give a helping hand when you can because together we're writing history.
If ya ever need ryno, toll free - you only need to pay, a visit.
If not maybe we'll cross paths on another plane, metaphysically exquisite.
Jun 8, 2013
Jun 8, 2013 at 11:59 AM UTC
Winter now..... no more the sun
She is my tormentor !!
As i lay naked to her touch
She caresses ... burns...all that she has taken from me
And whispers of places ...that i do not wish to be
I am cold and there is comfort
For i do not feel....pain
There is a freedom
In this... ice-so-lation
As time itself stops
Frozen.... the memories
That would be faded by the sun
And aged before their time
Mistress winter ..thou art mercifull .
Oct 1, 2010
Oct 1, 2010 at 2:51 PM UTC
(P
L
A
N
E A R T H) PIPES
T PIPES
PIPES
half-vessel >> /CHINESE
DRAGON HEAD/
(product of Jamaica)
!!JAMAICA BLUE
MOUNTAIN COFFEE ---------------->
● ...light! (mocking mask)(GRIZZLY)
BO|telephone|OTH
circu
lation of
ide
as
-------------------
aesthetic (me) categories (cute)
sun (transcriber ○) glasses
journal/maptable/coffee mug/sacks
legs/worn shoes/stained hardwood-
floor/RATS?
Aug 23, 2017
Aug 23, 2017 at 8:25 PM UTC
she feel miserable and sad
wants to be together and clad
he´s confused and broken
wants to go apart and bad
she´s a little fairy
gone mad
she tries to tame a dragon
gone abashed
he´s a dragon gushing flames
on a mountain filled with broken dreams
he needs to fly away
but the leash is there to restrain
do they belong together
to guard one another
or do they need to be apart
not to **** each other
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 6:42 AM UTC
Asking too much from this emptiness, structure and language. Some
love nest between the eyes lies love in complete quietness and iso-
lation, a lonely planet in the distance. Not to want, or a complete loss
of time, or both. From your hips come a tight embrace, gilded in mad
desire from another side of what is life, transferred by frequencies.
Give up defences, dropping of humanities, pyramid of eternal longing
at midday sun, eyes or desolation. We travel on, held by the heels in poi-
son Ivy below, and fly. There is a night deformed by beauty and a living
memory, just keep quiet when you see it or feel it's meteorite burn.
Make me come back asking too much from a lonely hell?
Oct 30, 2019
Oct 30, 2019 at 7:13 PM UTC
Fits of hyper-venti-lation
With no seemingly logical explanation.
All you’ve done is say those six sharp words,
That are now stabbing you in the back, just like swords.
Your thoughts jumbled up in a giant mess,
Lost in all of the dark, heavy stress.
And it’s all pressed
On your quivering, fragile chest.
It feels like a never ending pit.
No one seems to understand it.
And now all you’re left with,
is that dizzy-making, stomach-churning hell of a fit
Dec 15, 2018
Dec 15, 2018 at 9:35 AM UTC
Eternal mysteries constantly evading,
Never ceasing to puzzle the wisest man.
In all my thoughts and dreams revealing,
God only knows how much I’ve tried to understand.
Mysterious magic speaks of emotion and feeling,
And loneliness has vanished by the touch of a hand.
Obsessed with a passion for the first gentle touch,
Feelings of joy I have wanted so much.
Living alone for the longest of years,
In despair of all hopes for passion.
Following the trail blazed by deep seeded fears,
Elation was a dying breed, going out of fashion.
Allusive answers I never will find,
Nothing so harsh as reality.
Death, love and life are three of a kind.
Looking for a cure of incurable disease,
Of endless hours and wasted misery.
Vows of devotion have me on my knees,
Even happiness is all unspoken mystery.
1/20/1999
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 11:26 PM UTC
Give me
I need
you give
I demand
We regret
I am me
You are a ship sailing away
Demand is to release
We are playing in the sandpit of life.
re lation ship
Sep 4, 2019
Sep 4, 2019 at 2:38 PM UTC
Tears are
Eli
xir
lush is
l
y
like eye
deli
ciously!
Myeye enTOMED IF
MY
OP
TIC HEART BEATS
of c o m ing love
and waiting is
spent in I- SO
lation
but rewarded
by golden souls!
So pain is a seed
and spirit the tree
i bury my roots
D
E
E
P
L
Y
!
:: 12-31-2014 ::
Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 10:45 PM UTC