"leaper" poems
This is the time lean woods shall spend
A steeped-up twilight, and the pale evening drink,
And the perilous roe, the leaper to the west brink,
Trembling and bright to the caverned cloud descend.
Now shall you see pent oak gone gusty and frantic,
Stooped with dry weeping, ruinously unloosing
The sparse disheveled leaf, or reared and tossing
A dreary scarecrow bough in funeral antic.
Then, tatter you and rend,
Oak heart, to your profession mourning; not obscure
The outcome, not crepuscular; on the deep floor
Sable and gold match lustres and contend.
And rags of shrouding will not muffle the slain.
This is the immortal extinction, the priceless wound
Not to be staunched. The live gold leaks beyond,
And matter’s sanctified, dipped in a gold stain.
3.3k
To follow a fox into the night is a tale of leafy footsteps,
rattled by the wind.
Warning bells and silent hells but who am i to tell the difference.
Noir, Noir,
a followers eyes tremble in the sight of just a tail.
Hungry wolves await the fool,
now isn't that foxy?
*
Be as wise as a serpent, but as harmless as a dove, because devilish tricks linger below thee above.
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 3:59 AM UTC
I’m not a Cricket or a Locus,
We don’t even look the same,
My antennae are far shorter,
And my wings are pointless,
I jump…no…hop,
I hop from place to place,
I make a noise much sweeter,
And drive them all insane.
All the birds they want me,
And the Adders too,
But I’m much smarter than those fools,
They don’t get near me,
I’m not afraid for my life,
Though I don’t live long,
I know that I’m a leaper,
And I’d better hop along.
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 5:58 AM UTC
The seeker the loner the lover the keeper
The thrower the catcher the leaper
The believer the stoner the beater
The busser the cleaner the waiter
The water the sinker the caster the bleeder
The runner the stunner the teacher the preacher
The heater the steeper the meeker the feature the
Sliding the slipping and sloshing and
Crawling and creeping and cutting and kissing
Dishing and wining and dining and hissing
Looking and seeing believing and breeding
Heaving mashing heaping seeding
Feeding flooding fretting keeping
Shining a lining flowing and flipping
Tripping sipping showing shipping
Beating the beat of the poem of the people
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 1:56 AM UTC
what a calamity i arise to befall
The step i climbed to miss
The ground that drunk of the water i swallowed.
Hissing and blazing, in a count of configuration
The bundles of antiquities flown by the naked ventures of tranquility
Here i bore the question with an empty head of lessonless mind
Look now that i smile nay i show non by the face
See to my lips and read yourself the smiles
Is it all yours
Or you beg for less the more i offer
Many as lame i be to walk, the blind and beauty of those i lead, the bright to line by my back the genuis stuck by my ways.
Aint no way through my heart is taken, hugged in a jar of Love to the hunter of my soul
I see not to venture go by the gone in the
I heal what is hurt in my hurt from the heart
******* the ugly beauty of an angered mind, sweeting gallons of hope to thee that seeks non but faith
Down my injuries i heal of you
To say bye i lie for i stay not to fear but of my choice to go far the worry to stay in one past the known one for joy
I cometh as i leap & leave as i leap, Leaping to stay and to leave the leaper but non for one
Now am there, to stay and to be this to me is further i go to stay her meekness am drawned her thickness am strive her boldness i lay her softness i am dragged
How do i and so can i not be not to run a race past the behind of my favorite front
Aug 18, 2016
Aug 18, 2016 at 6:12 AM UTC
*** teaser
people pleaser
mind reader
secret keeper
man leaper
grim reaper
floor creeper
little sleeper
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 8:27 PM UTC
I stood alone with eyes closed,
in the perfect view of the sky above,
generation swept below my feet,
waffle laugh filled the street,
they talked, without speaking,
they sang, without sharing,
empty, their soul filled with darkness.
Free are the doomed, the idle, the fallen,
for they are breathless, of this stagnate air.
I stood alone with my psyche open,
with quivering bones, and steady thoughts.
Flash of time, was catching my breadth,
ties of love, care and passion,
left behind under cloud of dust,
they say when your time is here,
you see the flash of your sins, mortal,
only, under the dark of my eyes shut,
i saw the face of my fallen love,
the reason of my life, the reason for my death.
I reached my arm to embrace,
i took the leap, into the space,
my face kissed by gust, my hair filled the dust,
the sky felt departed, as i inched the earth,
no cause to commend, no regrets to mend,
i feel free, i see my wings,
i feel young, i see the springs.
today i fly,
behind i leave is a lie,
heaven or hell i can't care much,
for freedom my heart clutch.
The world went quite as I hit the dirt,
the sweet pain seized my soul,
blood set free off my vein,
my last breath, drifted,
as it rose up to the blue.
I lay there cold, untied,
with a halo of blood.
Shattered, unwanted,
bordered by the living slaves,
silent screams bury the unwanted grin,
hollow prayers crucify the reaching hand,
in the end there was just me,
in my death, I am free.
May 24, 2013
May 24, 2013 at 7:18 AM UTC
Pathetic Acts
Stop all the traffic; a million ants are passing by.
Red light, Amber light, waiting on a Green light.
All the windows have their curtains closed inside,
And nobody knows how to feel secure beneath the night sky.
Do a hand-stand, against the man,
So he can hear from the bottom of your soul,
As it refuses to accept his master plan.
Tell him it is time for you to go.
Become a light inside the storm.
Become guidance to those who are torn,
Between loving life and complete apathy.
Falling from the top of a tree.
I am not the leaper that I used to be,
But still here I stand speaking in symmetry.
(C)2020 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Nov 26, 2020
Nov 26, 2020 at 11:39 AM UTC
Long lines at midnight, breathless hype,
shiny sheen, the high gloss of marketing,
cosplay and balletic spoiler avoidance,
slammed multiplexes, overloaded ticket sites,
Croesus-like CGI kissing earnest steady-cam shots,
fan service, callbacks, countless punches.
Childhood idols fleshed out
on the grandeur of the silver screen,
writers room noodling netting billions
long after all the shaggy boho creatives
that originated it all were lowered
into the loamy maw of anonymous grave plots.
There's a degree of validation for the pasty
and hopeless, the low and lowdown
in watching a distinguished professional legend
pretending to be Bartoc the frickin Leaper
as though it's not silly, as though all
your idle moments, all your random diversions
really matter in the end, as though it all ties up
with a master-planned through-line of purpose,
as though it all mattered when you avidly read
about Iron Man, Hercules and Giant Man punching
out the red-shirt Skrulls (or was it the Krees?) on some spaceship
for a few minutes back at your grandmother's house
back before she was dead, before you were consumed
with the caustic sting of bitterness and bile, all the
accrued weight of a life generally but pleasantly wasted.
Apr 25, 2019
Apr 25, 2019 at 2:28 AM UTC
Kisses.
Sweet and soft.
Childhood.
Innocence.
Faster.
Heavy breathing.
My heart, it beats
I can feel every pump.
Stomach.
Leaping,
Then diving.
Roller coaster.
Clothes.
On, happy.
Slipping, and scared,
Hands grasp at my dress.
Kissing.
Scary.
Breathless, gasp.
Closed mouth.
Faster.
Head spins.
No.
Say no fast.
Stomach.
Dead leaper.
Alive fire.
Tucked into lungs.
Clothes.
Battling hands.
Defeated hands.
Clothes off.
Kissing.
Forced.
Lost consistency
Dead.
Faster.
No, no, say it fast.
Breathe.
Fast pumps.
Pumps of pain.
Stomach.
Empty.
Hollow guilt.
Swelled up alcohol.
Clothes.
Gone, missed.
Coveted bedsheets.
Grasping for cover.
Kissing.
Dead.
No more.
Death.
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 1:01 PM UTC
Jimmy Olsen Esq
just a cub when it came to written words
though he had so many stories to tell
energized by the one mansosuper
questioned by the planet daily
frightend by the Mr White
challenger to all evil
smiles for Siol Enal
follower of his majesty
the Kent of Clark
faster than
power of
choo choo
leaper
Gomer LePoet ....
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 7:41 PM UTC
Seeing a swarm of flies
Seeping the sap of
A hand-deprived
Leaper's fresh wound
A good Samaritan
Disarrayed them with
A hand clap “Twa!” sound
Getting as close as he could
In vain expecting
“A thank you!” gratitude.
“You shouldn't have done that
When the former ones,
Who had their fills, depart
The famished ones come forth
For their part
To siphon my blood
To their hearts delight!”
The upstart incumbent
Closed a curtain
On at the-end-of- the-tunnel
-alluring light
Let alone warrant
The much-touted
Days bright—Democracy
Deepening
Across the board wealth sharing.
Revolutionary democrats
Who boast “Brave
In a guerilla fight
We have sent
Tyrants to a grave!”
Serving the people
Opted to forget
So as
From government's coffer
To line up their own pocket.
Tax-comafledged exploitation
Compounded by
Government-sponsored corruption
What is more intimidation
From one's land
Or abode alienation
Research aiming
At ethnic cleansing
Bureaucratic logjams
And maladministration
Creating a non stop
Hassle and tension
From fever-pitch
Brewing up
Political tension
To divert attention
Are the tactic
They use
To sustain
Their tenure
And advance
Bad governance.///
African politics © 23 hours ago, Alem Hailu Gabre Kristos sad poems • society poems
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Peter the Ce
Jun 6, 2017
Jun 6, 2017 at 2:17 AM UTC
Bunny
Rabbit ear’s pointing up towards the sky.
They are listening out for the bunnies that are calling out for love,
To begin their wail.
In search of a love, he is always hoping to find.
One he could love would be the one,
Who could make him wag his bright eyed bushy tail.
He knows that a wiggle of the nose is the way to go,
To find himself a mate.
Her silhouette is his reflection, a mirror version;
A recognizable shape and a friendly face.
He hops over to say hello to the mystery carrot eater.
“Hello, how are you today? My name is Bouncer”
“Hi; I’m Leaper.”
And so the love story begins;
The bouncing, the leaping and carrot eating.
A sharing of a pleasant dream.
Only into each other’s arms are the lover’s a leaping.
On past the flowers and down into their burrow.
Bouncer and Leaper snuggle up next to each other, nice and close.
They stay down in their warren to keep each other warm,
Until spring is sprung and the kit baby is born…
And then Bouncer can hop off outside,
To fetch his Leaper a rose of thorns.
(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018 at 6:30 AM UTC
There must be rain and lots of rain,
Enough to fill the river Seine.
Till Mrs Frog and Mr Toad,
Will choose to risk the night again.
See, Mrs frog is kind of queer,
She sits the same spot most of year.
Amphibifun! An avid leaper,
But home again when daylight near.
Then Mr toad, a grumpy winner,
An eagle eyed reptilian sinner.
He hates the rain and lost a leg,
When something fancied him for dinner!.
But on that rare and lucky night,
When circumstance and weather right.
These loyal suitors meet at last,
As Cupid’s spell is at its height.
Five years have past, they’re still together,
Meeting frequent, sometimes never.
But neither gives up on the other,
Not storm, not tide, nor any weather.
What loyalty? What love? What deeds?,
Take place amongst those silent reeds.
Frog and Toad; he hates the rain!
But love and patience still exceeds.
Dec 31, 2024
Dec 31, 2024 at 7:03 PM UTC