"loftier" poems
~
*O Painter
with thy own eye
would thee
paint me in mine own natural hue
prithee paint me as i am,
imperfections
and blemishes true
Load thy brush
with colors sundry
to maketh yond first pure sweep
across the ****** frieze,
fill'd with pangs of hunger.
paint me as i standeth
bethought, in deep
With mine own love and mine own desire,
blurring the edges unclean
with mine own regrets
and mine own mental gyre,
in mine own natural age,
of deep forest green
O Painter
Paint me sinister turquoise,
in lavender and maroon,
combine the amethyst and amber
blend the iceberg
and the indigo moon.
Paint me as i standeth,
prithee see with thy eye
a mistress in yond lady plight
Prithee paint me all i am
i cullionly
a mistress in all yond lady might
Paint me in the optimistic
silv'r of dawn,
but don’t miss the purple
to shade the bruise
of the bygone.
paint me in the sky blue journal
O Painter
Paint me as a unique template
smudge black white and grizzled
merging all the colors of thy palette.
col'r me a rainbow
in a rainy drizzle
Paint me tall so yond i standeth
loftier than any mountain
Paint me as a dram bird, delicate
with soft feathers silken
Paint me harmony, as a violin
so yond i can sing thy solitary tune
paint me as thy poetry
with song and melody
wrapp'd in a cocoon
O Painter
paint me as a dream yond rises
in did saturate colors
with a steady upbeat flight awry
tint, a fluttering
of a quite quaint butterfly
Portray me with endurance
imbue so bold and bright
doth not hesitate
to depict mine own mind
in profound fuchsia and white.
Useth the colors yond thee would borrow
Thy palette not yet exsufflicate
Paint mine own loss and mine own sorrow
in search of a shade so ******
Adorn mine own heart in glowing garnet
at which hour thee paint mine own love
add a true broken blue shade
of the cloud and the rain above;
Study mine own dry sorrow
in mine own soul
useth any shade thee plaited
soften the edges of control
in a tinge of xanthene.
O Painter
Prithee paint me
Mine own passion and mine own spirit
shall has't a crimson r'd hint
mine own remorse and mine own regret
shall reflect an ink stain print
Paint me in mine own eye so true
O Painter
but add a dash of courage too*
~
Dec 17, 2017
Dec 17, 2017 at 10:52 AM UTC
The cloudless day is richer at its close;
A golden glory settles on the lea;
Soft, stealing shadows hint of cool repose
To mellowing landscape, and to calming sea.
And in that nobler, gentler, lovelier light,
The soul to sweeter, loftier bliss inclines;
Freed form the noonday glare, the favour'd sight
Increasing grace in earth and sky divines.
But ere the purest radiance crowns the green,
Or fairest lustre fills th' expectant grove,
The twilight thickens, and the fleeting scene
Leaves but a hallow'd memory of love!
15.1k
From depth to height, from height to loftier height,
The climber sets his foot and sets his face,
Tracks lingering sunbeams to their halting-place,
And counts the last pulsations of the light.
Strenuous thro' day and unsurprised by night
He runs a race with Time, and wins the race,
Emptied and stripped of all save only Grace,
Will, Love,--a threefold panoply of might.
Darkness descends for light he toiled to seek;
He stumbles on the darkened mountain-head,
Left breathless in the unbreathable thin air,
Made freeman of the living and the dead,--
He wots not he has topped the topmost peak,
But the returning sun will find him there.
3.7k
[Dedicated to K.M.Ward]
"I will arise and go unto my father"
MALKUTH
Dark, dark all dark! I cower, I cringe.
Only ablove me is a citron tinge
As if some echo of red, gold and lue
Chimed on the night and let its shadow through.
Yet I who am thus prisoned and exiled
Am the right heir of glory, the crowned child.
I match my might against my Fate's
I gird myself to reach the ultimate shores,
I arm myself the war to win:-
Lift up your heads, O mighty gates!
Be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors!
The King of Glory shall come in.
TAU
I pass from the citrine:deep indigo
Is this tall column. Snakes and vultures bend
Their hooted hate on him that would ascend.
O may the Four avail me ! Ageless woe,
Fear, torture, throng the treshold. LO1 The end
Of Matter ! The immensity of things
Let loose -new laws, new beings, new conditions;-
Dire chaos; see ! these new-fledged wings
Fail in its vagueness and initiations.
Only my circle saves me from the hate
Of all these monsters dead yet animate.
I match, &c.;
YESOD
Hail, thou full moon, O flame of Amethyst !
Stupendous mountain on whose shoulders rest
The Eight Above. More stable is my crest
Than thine -and now I pierce thee, veil of mist!
Even as an arrow from the war-bow springs
I leap -my life is set with loftier things.
I match, & c.
SAMECH ( and the crossing of the Path of Pe)
Now swift, thou azure shaft of fading fire,
Pierce through the rainbow! Swift, O swift! how streams
The world by! Let Sandalphon and his quire
Of Angels ward me!
** what
3.5k
i disavow my allegiance to the flag,
& to the Commonwealth of the Bahamas.
for we are not one people,
we are not united,
we do not live in love,
& we are unfortunately serviced.
what does the future hold for my Bahama land?
with our resources not being utilized for the betterment of our people...
but being sold to non-Bahama land.
no profits being aimed to,
or sources being owned by
our Bahama man.
as i lift my head to the rising of the sun in this Bahama land,
i see no hope for the future, no hope in my Bahama land.
no one to speak up,
the youth are out of luck.
the elders show no interest,
we are doomed.
still,
we march on to the glory..
but what bright banners do we have to wave high?
the means of the leaders are of no significance,
& i can no longer bear the pain that i witness.
how will we excel
if we do not love,
& unite?
going forward,
will we stand together
for a common, loftier goal?
as i lift up my head to the rising sun in my Bahama land;
i see anguish,
i see fear &
leaders with no care.
all the things i see are broad.
...but may the road that my people trod
lead us to our God,
that will help us on this march to save our Bahama land.
Jun 21, 2018
Jun 21, 2018 at 8:49 PM UTC
One can easily become disillusioned in a world senselessly
Filled with confusion and upheaval – evil at every corner,
and it appears as though good has become unsustainable
Bleak as tomorrow’s tidings may, I stay on bended knees
Looking upward with unanswered questions - let wisdom
Rain down like libations, to quench thirst wrought off miles
upon life’s rugged road, and before the end has come I want
To have left behind a legacy of achievement, taking whatever
Motivation I can get to buildup up conviction, until cynicism
is converted into action - my spirit soaring like an eagle propels
My ambition to loftier heights thought unimagined – so I wait
Patiently for a windfall gain, made from choices to facilitate change
For I’m indomitable, from a lineage of kings rising above the worlds
condition, like a sprightly star among the constellations…
Sep 24, 2012
Sep 24, 2012 at 2:02 AM UTC
Once in a dream (for once I dreamed of you)
We stood together in an open field;
Above our heads two swift-winged pigeons wheeled,
Sporting at ease and courting full in view.
When loftier still a broadening darkness flew,
Down-swooping, and a ravenous hawk revealed;
Too weak to fight, too fond to fly, they yield;
So farewell life and love and pleasures new.
Then, as their plumes fell fluttering to the ground,
Their snow-white plumage flecked with crimson drops,
I wept, and thought I turned towards you to weep:
But you were gone; while rustling hedgerow tops
Bent in a wind which bore to me a sound
Of far-off piteous bleat of lambs and sheep.
3k
The world’s great age begins anew,
The golden years return,
The earth doth like a snake renew
Her winter weeds outworn;
Heaven smiles, and faiths and empires gleam
Like wrecks of a dissolving dream.
A brighter Hellas rears its mountains
From waves serener far;
A new Peneus rolls his fountains
Against the morning star;
Where fairer Tempes bloom, there sleep
Young Cyclads on a sunnier deep.
A loftier Argo cleaves the main,
Fraught with a later prize;
Another Orpheus sings again,
And loves, and weeps, and dies;
A new Ulysses leaves once more
Calypso for his native shore.
O write no more the tale of Troy,
If earth Death’s scroll must be—
Nor mix with Laian rage the joy
Which dawns upon the free,
Although a subtler Sphinx renew
Riddles of death Thebes never knew.
Another Athens shall arise,
And to remoter time
Bequeath, like sunset to the skies,
The splendour of its prime;
And leave, if naught so bright may live,
All earth can take or Heaven can give.
Saturn and Love their long repose
Shall burst, more bright and good
Than all who fell, than One who rose,
Than many unsubdued:
Not gold, not blood, their altar dowers,
But votive tears and symbol flowers.
O cease! must hate and death return?
Cease! must men **** and die?
Cease! drain not to its dregs the urn
Of bitter prophecy!
The world is weary of the past—
O might it die or rest at last!
2.6k
It's up to me to build the future
With committment in my heart
Being honest with my neighbors
Is the point where I must start
A life must always aim for truth
No hypocrisy prevail
With no blemish in my make up
If I aim for less I fail
Integrity to one another
Puts a deeper trust in place
To uphold that awesome value
Is to lift the human race
I must always stand on honor
And be forthright to the bone
Always strive to be less selfish
Where no evil turns me wrong
There will be a better future
On that loftier plateau
God will bless me for the wisdom
If I choose that course to grow
When I truly ply those basics
There's a difference I can make
I must be a good example.....
Our third planet is at stake
Nov 29, 2010
Nov 29, 2010 at 6:19 AM UTC
When beechen buds begin to swell,
And woods the blue-bird's warble know,
The yellow violet's modest bell
Peeps from the last year's leaves below.
Ere russet fields their green resume,
Sweet flower, I love, in forest bare,
To meet thee, when thy faint perfume
Alone is in the ****** air.
Of all her train, the hands of Spring
First plant thee in the watery mould,
And I have seen thee blossoming
Beside the snow-bank's edges cold.
Thy parent sun, who bade thee view
Pale skies, and chilling moisture sip,
Has bathed thee in his own bright hue,
And streaked with jet thy glowing lip.
Yet slight thy form, and low thy seat,
And earthward bent thy gentle eye,
Unapt the passing view to meet,
When loftier flowers are flaunting nigh.
Oft, in the sunless April day,
Thy early smile has stayed my walk;
But midst the gorgeous blooms of May,
I passed thee on thy humble stalk.
So they, who climb to wealth, forget
The friends in darker fortunes tried.
I copied them--but I regret
That I should ape the ways of pride.
And when again the genial hour
Awakes the painted tribes of light,
I'll not o'erlook the modest flower
That made the woods of April bright.
2k
Lately our poets loiter'd in green lanes,
Content to catch the ballads of the plains;
I fancied I had strength enough to climb
A loftier station at no distant time,
And might securely from intrusion doze
Upon the flowers thro' which Ilissus flows.
In those pale olive grounds all voices cease,
And from afar dust fills the paths of Greece.
My sluber broken and my doublet torn,
I find the laurel also bears a thorn.
1.7k
Many a flower hath perfume for its dower,
And many a bird a song,
And harmless lambs milkwhite beside their dams
Frolic along,--
Perfume and song and whiteness offering praise
In humble, peaceful ways.
Man's high degree hath will and memory,
Affection and desire;
By loftier ways he mounts of prayer and praise,
Fire unto fire,
Deep unto deep responsive, height to height,
Until he walk in white.
1.6k
Red is the colour of blood that flows in the body of all creatures given birth
Green is the colour of grass that like a carpet covers a lot of the soil of earth
Blue is the colour of sky that surrounds this world and is of an infinite girth
All three colours come from a Single Source having an Immeasurable worth.
Red is also the colour of danger and a symbol which indicates all to beware
Green is also the colour of the leaves that most of the plants and trees wear
Blue is also the colour of water that covers most of this world which is fair
Three colours are the original blend of all those others found in nature there.
Red is also the colour of anger, passion or pain that is expressed, felt and seen
Green is also the colour of something natural an indication of where it has been
Blue is also the colour of Infinity and the light glowing in a mind which is clean
And all three colours are shades of One Light the essence of all universal sheen.
Of all the three colours I like blue the most as it seems to be uniquely sublime
It speaks to me of loftier and deeper things that were experienced in my prime
It also represents the colour of the biggest phenomena known to man in time
Being a symbol of That in which all exist and from which all began to chime.
------------------------------------
Note:
There are many other colors but as far as those which form the basis of technology there are only three i.e; as in a R.G.B. monitor and screen projector etc.
Dec 26, 2011
Dec 26, 2011 at 6:53 AM UTC
IF you have revisited the town, thin Shade,
Whether to look upon your monument
(I wonder if the builder has been paid)
Or happier-thoughted when the day is spent
To drink of that salt breath out of the sea
When grey gulls flit about instead of men,
And the gaunt houses put on majesty:
Let these content you and be gone again;
For they are at their old tricks yet.
A man
Of your own passionate serving kind who had brought
In his full hands what, had they only known,
Had given their children's children loftier thought,
Sweeter emotion, working in their veins
Like gentle blood, has been driven from the place,
And instilt heaped upon him for his pains,
And for his open-handedness, disgrace;
Your enemy, an old fotil mouth, had set
The pack upon him.
Go, unquiet wanderer,
And gather the Glasnevin coverlet
About your head till the dust stops your ear,
The time for you to taste of that Salt breath
And listen at the corners has not come;
You had enough of sorrow before death --
Away, away! You are safer in the tomb.
1.5k
The leaves turn grey
as heartbreak rises over a troubled world.
The travails of flawed champions
would triumph if they could be so bold.
But the wind stings the tender cheek
even as the hand reaches for the heavens.
So this beleaguered soul plummets
from tarnished heights to these fallow gardens.
And so I watch over this gentle miscreant
with the world in his sights and his eyes closed.
Unwilling to pull aside the veil
afraid of turning his writhing heart cold.
The decision to rebel
is planted by lecherous hands
Left to cultivate in a mind
with far loftier plans.
Mar 25, 2012
Mar 25, 2012 at 3:45 AM UTC
“Yes, master.”
A shrill groan slithers
Across the gray stones
Of the tower, spiraling upward
Until it is trapped in loftier cobwebs.
“The lever is down, master,”
And the darkness is whipped by electricity.
I beat out these lines with a bare
Foot, tapping to every syllable,
As the madman donning
Green-tinted goggles and
A tumbleweed of hair curls
Closer and closer to the cluttered lab table.
“Need more light, master?
I’ll hold the lantern,”
And the light begins to praise his smooth hands,
Sloping precisely to pink fingernails
As the needle dips into his
Experiment like an eel
Flowing beneath the sea’s wake.
“Are you close, master?”
Illuminated are the gashes that mar
The ridges in my knuckles,
The calluses etched into my fingertips,
The wiry hairs that strangle
My throbbing, grey veins.
A life of delicate accomplishment,
Filled with a strictly inward turmoil;
It has never been mine to choose.
“It isn’t fair, master...”
And his lips purse in the effort
Of affording me a cursory glance.
“...That your genius go
So unrecognized,
Sir.”
Grunting satisfactorily,
He grins only toward his beloved creation
While I continue pondering
How a pencil might feel against
The paper if I knew how
To make the words.
“I want to write, master.”
“Poetry?” he mumbles to the scalpel,
and I nod my head vigorously as
His rumbling laughter becomes
Smoke that snakes leisurely toward
The skylight.
May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 3:23 PM UTC
*We'll go to the meadows, where the cowslips do grow,
And buttercups, looking as yellow as gold;
And daisies and violets begining to blow;
For it is a most beautiful sight to behold.
The little bee humming about them is seen,
The butterfly merrily dances along;
The grasshopper chirps in the hedges so green,
And the linnet is singing his liveliest song.
The birds and the insects are happy and gay,
The beasts of the field they are glad and rejoice,
And we will be thankful to God every day,
And praise His great name in a loftier voice.
He made the green meadows, He planted the flowers.
He sent His bright sun in the heavens to blaze;
He created these wonderful bodies of ours,
And as long as we live we will sing of His praise.*
Jane and Ann Taylor
Nov 30, 2012
Nov 30, 2012 at 3:03 PM UTC
I loved you FIRST!! but afterwards
your Love
Outsoaring mine, sang sucha loftier song
your Love
As drowned the friendly coolings of my dove
which owes the other most?? my Love was long.
And yours one moment seemed to wax more strong,
I loved and guessed at you, you construed me......
And loved me for what might or might not be-
Nay, weights and measures to do BOTH of us wrong
For verily love knows not " mine" or "thine"
But with seperate "I" and 'Thou" Free
For one is both and both are one in love
Rich love know nought of "thine that is not mine"
Both to have strenght and both the length thereof,
Both of us, of the love that we CAN MAKE ONE!!!
Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 3:35 PM UTC
I have trouble coping you.
I really struggle to handle what you manifest.
It's only through sheer force of will
and a glaring lack of skill
that I manage this...overload.
Every kiss is of trepidation.
Leaving the sweet taste of elation.
A fascination with every breath your taking.
So lost I am in this love infused awakening.
Like watching a million roses bloom red hot,
with whatever passion fuels love.
In this ethereal field I'm held caught.
With only the ability to spew such smarmy adoration.
Almost completely lacking of thought, sense, or annunciation.
No less heartfelt or without the weight of sincerity.
In every word, oath, emotion, thought or change you make in me.
Changes that come unwilling but not unwanted.
Now dreams are the stuff of life and by life I am haunted.
This is the discovery of real love,
a desperate thirst and need that you can never sate.
The medium through which you can dream of loftier things like fate.
This and all that is beyond surpasses all its worth.
Because for a moment, we are greater than all the earth.
Feb 18, 2012
Feb 18, 2012 at 5:19 AM UTC
i'll be the one fattening the nationalists like
they're worthy to inherit the swine skidding
kinds of talk of the famous winged Hussar toppling
mountain in stone as in grain of sand: avalanche -
and akin to a crows' kraken bellowing: gluttonous kra!
und tod! schatten överskuggar död:
and what yearn be dripped in acknowledged European -
loftier thought than done, kindred of what's called
the civilised / colonial world - toward the auburn horizontal -
and in due bereaving: left undone, and unduly asked for:
to be grasped as worshipped, quasi Lutheran,
mingling Calvinist and Catholic... but never the love affair
of Henry VIII. so much of modern English
history is bound to Las Vegas, and so much to the Hajj toward
Jerusalem no one cares about... then so few to mind
the invasion of the Polish-Lithuanian
Commonwealth by the Swedes... because this is England,
and Cockney speaks, usurper of the royal tongue, due to pride,
due to the elephant man, due to jack the ripper and
harry the stinker... and the joyous rhapsody coming
from the lonely mile in Irish slang; or said: Mamelukes -
because the Mongols were at one point defeated -
and thus grieved the Baghdad skull with tinges of Hamlet -
oh the grand library, what was left of it, could remain
enshrined in Texan avoidance - not to be:
Chilcot Coke - Cooled Coca and later Koala - Bruise and White -
thugs' select - later respect'ah - bony g and later bonbon
and much later bony m - and much much
later Alfonso Jalfrezi - alias gaga: and all the culinary sagas,
the Forsytes of Malta... or the Forsytes of Málaga?
i'm sure that question is all about:
wherever the peppercorn blows
and wherever the sneeze deposits a hunch
toward an itchy cartilage - from an itch and a scratch:
a butterfly! well, isn't this
the most beautiful of all possible worlds...
sorta makes you want to get up in the morning
and say good-morning to someone.
Sep 20, 2016
Sep 20, 2016 at 9:58 PM UTC
and now, most dignified Gentlemen
and most cultured Ladies -
it is time to turn our attention
to loftier matters, to speak of the spirit
rather than of mundane concerns and
to be stuck in unimaginative and non-inspiring
habits;
and so we turn our attention to the spirits
to the spiritual
to such high matters
to things that lift us above time and our bodies
and such points in reality and frail flesh
that binds us and make little of us;
but the spirit, most sane Sirs,
elevates us;
the spirit, most elegant Ladies,
liberates us;
and so we begin
with bottle in hand, in deed
(look, every religion has its symbols);
and through several drops of this holy water
(several gulps will hasten the magic and miracle)
we are indeed hand in hand with
the Spirit of all spirits
for what matters it if you hold or invoke
gin, *** tequila, ***** or whisky
whatever it is that one lifts
one is lifted by
and that One one lifts is the Grand Spirit…
and you see transformations occur,
the mind is released from the mundane and the pedestrian
and the ordinary;
and one may see light, there is a sense of lightness
and those who may be touched by the Grand Spirit
may actually levitate
and one has visions and ecstasies
all through the spirit,
most Spiritual Sirs
most Lofty Ladies…
and mock not this religion of spirits
for have not masses of humanity all through History
done the same in the name of religion?
Does not humanity do all of the same with
the Great Spirit they call God and
do not they too have visions and ecstasies
and feel the spirit move them and
are always aiming High?
Their senses and wits dulled
but their spirits going on high?
Drunk on high
with words, words, words...
And are they not in their true religion
moved by God and have such grand visions?
and will you then -
O ye vipers!
Ye hypocrites! -
mock the spirit
when you will
sanction and approve and dance
in the midst of those who drink religion?
will you denigrate your brothers
and sisters
in the spirit?
Oh, you who are drunk and revel in the name of God
and holy books and repeated words
will you judge those drunk in the name of the spirit
and radiant revelations that come to them
when they are moved by the spirit?
Judge not, ye hypocrites!
Judge not, lest ye be judged!
And so we end this sermon in amicable spirit,
in unity, in spiritual oneness
between
those who drink of the high of religion
and those who drink of the spirit we have spoken of
Go ye forth hand in hand then
as siblings
for ye that worship in the name of religion
and ye that have ecstasy in your own holy bottled spirit
ye are but brothers and sisters
moved by the One Spirit…
Go ye forth together, go in ecstasy, go high…
Oct 8, 2010
Oct 8, 2010 at 1:12 AM UTC
is love just...
an arrow's pierce,
dissent of logic,
under passion fierce!
turmoil in,state serene,
portraying far-off,pastures green,
blindfolded run,into mystique thick,
hands both,to nothingness pick!
nay,deeper is it than ocean's deep,
loftier than Everest steep!
delicate as a damsel's lash,
tiny,but the mightiest slash.
stronger than the strongest will,
enough to all obstructions ****
heart tiny,when with desires soar,
love is not just this.....
it's much more!
Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 12:27 PM UTC
Everyone is isolated, if only they
would stop to think about it.
Because regardless of the battles
we fight, the wars we wage or
the love we spread, the love we make,
we walk through our dreams, and our
world with only one voice in our head.
It is not always a pleasant voice, and it does
not always ask of us the things we would
like to believe we are capable of.
Sometimes it will say “run.” when we always
thought we were the type to stand.
Sometimes it will say “yes” when we know
that the occasion calls for no.
Sometimes it will tell us to hate even when
it understands that the intentions were good.
It does not speak in hollow platitudes.
It does not spare feelings.
It does not care that a world exists beyond
the frame it is concealed within.
It is small, weak, self serving, and scared.
My god! Where is the animal confidence?
Here at the top of the food chain of countless
ecosystems, it's secret ambition is to make us think
like prey. Ever watching the ground, the corners the sky
for the predators it knows are coming.
And in the moment, when a plan goes south,
when, looking back at you with boredom glazed eyes,
she says that this was not what she expected, when
you wake from your lonely dreams to an unexpected
noise from a distant room, the clenching of your
bowels screaming terror unimagined.
In the moment when it is right about the
hostile world you inhabit
It doesn't even have the courtesy not to
scream that it told you so.
We are all isolated, with an animal fear
screaming against a civilization it doesn't understand.
We are all lost in a spinning ball of predictable yet
frightening chaos, trying not to listen
to the part of us that wants only our safety.
Cowardice is a word that crawls inside of us.
Digs out a pit in the stomach, and lives there
surrounded in your shame and your guilt
and grows fat.
Because it's easy to listen, to accept
the single minded voice. It is so hard,
so damnably difficult, to aspire toward
a loftier goal, to ignore the voice.
We are all Isolated, if we think about it.
Aug 19, 2010
Aug 19, 2010 at 6:54 AM UTC
"In the practice of mutual aid, which we can retrace to the earliest beginnings of evolution, we thus find the positive and undoubted origin of our ethical conceptions; and we can affirm that in the ethical progress of man, mutual support not mutual struggle – has had the leading part. In its wide extension, even at the present time, we also see the best guarantee of a still loftier evolution of our race." -- Peter Kropotkin, 1902
Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 10:00 AM UTC