"meekest" poems
100
A science—so the Savants say,
“Comparative Anatomy”—
By which a single bone—
Is made a secret to unfold
Of some rare tenant of the mold,
Else perished in the stone—
So to the eye prospective led,
This meekest flower of the mead
Upon a winter’s day,
Stands representative in gold
Of Rose and Lily, manifold,
And countless Butterfly!
2.2k
(the poem, the story intends to reveal,
or vice versa, the story I'm told is very old)
Seven silent days of shiva, sort of premature,
sitting with one called their friend,
our friend, as we watch, from now
from here
we know the daysman,
we observers in mind,
flies on sores, flies on walls, we can use their eyes
we can pity the comforters and the comfortless moan,
Come into my comfort zone, cries Job. What comfort?
Why me?
was answered,
Job looks our way and winks, an a side,
I invited the daysman, he says,
but only ere knowing God almighty
knows,
and the accuser of man,
whom mine symbolizes,
knows not,
how it is to be a mortal man,
wombed or un.
Would God there were a daysman betwixt us.
I said, unaware,
completely of any good news on its way my way
I coulda said nothing, had I known
Would God there were a daysman betwixt us.
I said, I thought,
So I can
wonder whys and hows, ask where truth abides in what men have
imagined, what drew the sweetness, what drew pain,
is luck a factor? Sacred making, did we get that wrong?
Seems is as it seems to be, here.
This is not afterlife, this is life, today.
This day's daysman twixt truth and lie,
in the meta game, he is neither
archaic warden of loafing warrior's watchtower,
or miller minding the grinding, seeing
all who labor,
they shall eat.
Who legislates tradition? Meek or mighty?
******* speaks: ax Moses.
Fair, that's fair. Meekest man God knew,
some of his works
could be cut and paste, that's fine,
he wrote the rules in his day.
He can be the referee, the daysman in this game.
A mediator for fools who only ever knew lies.
A man who once was a speechless babe.
A referee who makes the rules? Jesus, can we cheat?
This is leaven? We loosed leaven? Jo-bob, we didit!
Jesus H. Christ! The bomb.
Once enacted the package never stops,
as long as there is that which can be leavened,
it shall be leavened.
The Kingdom of Heaven is like that.
===
No, life isn't fair. The good guys won the metagame,
quite a while ago.
But, if you ain't in the game, you wouldn't agree.
Time will tell. What the hell, wait and see.
Merry Christmas.
Oct 16, 2018
Oct 16, 2018 at 9:12 PM UTC
You tell me on facebook "ily, bby"
Not even taking the time to type it out...
You ask me constantly if I am going to leave
I lay in bed crying at night because you forget me
So many guys want to be in my life that it hurts...
It hurts that I have to break their trusting gaze
Because I'm looking towards you...
Looking, hoping praying that your love is true
When I met you I told you to call me Kitty or Blue
But instead you call me by my real name, something few people do
When we first got together we were hotter then fire and gasoline
Now we're barely a half empty lighter on a chain smoker
When did things fade away? When did things start to change?
When did you finally get sick of being with me?
You still tell me you love me... But I have to say it first...
Am I just a nuisance? Do I actually annoy you?
Tears fill my eyes as my feelings I compromise...
You are getting away with my ******
The ****** of my heart and soul, the flash in my eyes
I become the meekest child under your gaze
And I just no longer know what to do...
Because I fear I no longer love you...
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 11:24 AM UTC
For the weekest,
Meekest, lonely
And afriad;
Understand attention
Must be paid.
Offer a hand,
Help carry their weight,
Be sincere
On your first date;
Request true friendship on FB,
Get the Baileys, share your tea;
Turn on a light for the old,
Give a coat to the cold.
Don't just shake,
Embrace and hold.
Create you own way
To convey,
Serious attention
Must be paid.
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 2:57 PM UTC
Why is darkness at its meekest within a light source?
How incredible it is, that among its enemy, it’s able to wrap victims
In its arms.
Swallow them;
Disguise them;
Embrace them.
Its long tendrils crawling upon your skin
Its poison traveling into your heart
Destroying you;
Engulfing you;
Letting light into your eyes.
Darkness isn’t an enemy, it’s your invisible friend.
It lets you see the truth.
While light? It conceals it
Everything is a lie.
Light wants to be perfect, but it can’t.
It is the result of all social judgements
All things.
Darkness reveals everything that you might not have noticed.
But beware
If you fall too deeply into the abyss
You might get stuck and never climb back up.
Because we humans would rather accept the beautiful lies
Rather than the cold truth.
Because we are us, and we are cowards.
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 7:56 AM UTC
Simplify me.
You simplified me.
Cut me down and broke me.
Broke me.
Put me in that meek and humble palace.
That palace on the dirt road.
You knew to starve me.
Went out searching
And brought me back.
Brought me back
To the bread with no butter,
To the cold and simple porridge,
To the meekest meal and fed me.
You brought me back
And fed me,
Starved me,
Broke me,
You simplified me.
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 5:46 PM UTC
Up we go. Up we go
To the top of the hill
From the valley below
Light up the darkness
**** the shadows
Exit from your deathly hallows
Marching on. Marching on
Through the darkness
'Til the dawn
Blaze the paths
No stops 'til landing
The meekest will not be left standing
Step. Step. Step. Step.
'Til day breaks
Or 'til your death
Quicker, now
To higher ground
Or keep your pace; to death, be bound
Dec 16, 2010
Dec 16, 2010 at 5:58 PM UTC
nary the further root(nor nearer neither)shoots
reaching similar jeering your carnal fold whoops
a crown of pink, whose gentler thorns enshrined
the meekest cruel sweetness of with mouth combined
posits a slender abrupt howl from the heaving
noose of abdomens 2 backed seething
(a beast twained)
or so sayeth William
Jan 31, 2012
Jan 31, 2012 at 4:23 AM UTC
how would i know claw or feather(myself or myself). there's me only and also me. like claw sharply or feather downy.
me and me also. that's what i am like. both neither or either.
i again return myself to hands of thoughts and returning again i arrive and look on them.
and they are wonder.
meekest starting; hulking ending. they begin and they rush. they end and they abey.
not so nearly as a frond, more like a leaf, just new and trembling on his mothers arm.
i dance and i am collected.
i repose and i am disheveled. i am cluttered with words mostly. they collude like
grass fresh in springs nicest wetness on early mornings(they gleam and enamel
me). my stuff and my
artifice. they are the magic of person, of which i count myself amongst, and am
counted by. i squish their numbers and margins between my toes when i walk
on balmy summer nights
through soakness caking through my shirt. the dew of god's breath enamors.
and pleases the senses. such aromas(which waltz from buds opened in the silverset
moonlight)confuse
and collide me. i like how they smell. they are richest and fullest health. on the breeze
they mingle and bumble perfectly. they arrive and taunt me. i stand by lakes(wreathed in them)
and i would eat them
as soon as smell them. stem and berry. loch and grove. these things are innumerable(and terribly
few). how do i reckon them against me? but just bones and flesh i wonder on their bodies.
i note them and i bring
them into me and place them in my soul. they, like sleep, are posies and fancies gorgeous.
i ramble and i elicit. i trundle and i fathom. i look on people and i see them busy and
infinite. they progress
and urge. they collect and they divide. like oceans. each's a droplet and a whole.
they make me and i make them. i know me by them. and how shall i any other way?
and them by me
they know themselves. we are bound and seamless. i lilt and i think on them.
sometimes foolish i think. other times i'm so in wonder at each infinite self i nearly tumble
out myself.
and where does the truth lie? both of course. nothing was ever one thing. except for exactly
what it is. except for when it's not. then it is another thing. which is exactly what it is again.
i think and sing.
but i'm not knowing. i've never been. i just flit and prattle(i am the wind; i touching nothing
leave no trace).
Nov 28, 2011
Nov 28, 2011 at 8:05 AM UTC
Thou art the gorgeous princess that graces the presence of multitudes...
Men women, every human creation will give anything to worship the ground you step on...
They will exchange their loyalty for you to warm their beds...
Your beauty is beyond the first creation.
...but beloved, I can not love you.
Not this way.
For I don't have A Heart to.
She, the meekest of all that ever existed has clenched it in her hands.
And she, cannot let it go.
©The Unspoken
Jun 20, 2015
Jun 20, 2015 at 6:15 AM UTC
Do not give into darkness.
Hold fast and tight to every ray of light.
Hold tight to stars and push out blackness.
You are too young to give away the fight.
Good is hard but still we keep it burning,
Illuminating all our rights and wrongs.
With good to light our way we're always learning.
Live with in the light for night is long.
If darkness settles in and lights extinguish,
If there's not the meekest, faintest glow,
Perhaps the good with in the world seems finished
But still into the darkness do not go.
You are the good to over come the darkness
Fight the looming blackness with your light
If evil is the absence of all good
Then it only takes one star to make things right
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 9:58 AM UTC
It’s obvious that I look at you
and see perfection; even where
there is none, even where
your ugly is. I know that’s why
I hear from you whenever you
feel rejected. Ultimately, you’re
going to find the door again
because you’re looking for
someone a little harder to tame,
and I’m going to end up the
rejected one who can’t seem
to understand why an outpour
of care isn’t enough for you to
stay with me. You call and your
apology is the meekest I’ve
seen, but I run to you faster
than I’ve run before because
it’s you. It’s you. It’s you. I want
to call you selfish but I forgive
you for it before the word makes
it past my mouth. I’m always so
happy to see you that I forget
to ask you to please let me go.
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 7:07 PM UTC
by spaded hand
the cloven earth
receives the root
a seed and weeps
a new flower with
fragile completely
petals that in even
meekest shooking
bend
and
fractures
Jun 23, 2012
Jun 23, 2012 at 7:00 PM UTC
I Was buried last night
As word after word you shoveled over me
Telling me with my sadness you could not deal
I put up no fight
I just slipped into the bathroom
Your words following "you going in there to cry"
As the tears slid silently down my face of steel
I sat till no more tears came
You attacked me at my weakest
I turned off my feelings, I could no longer feel
My face a blank slate
I was at my meekest
I plastered on a smile
But I guess it didn't carry enough weight
I guess I didn't have the expression of a child
So what am I to do
I don't know anymore how to be fake
So I just continue to smile
My steel face will be all you ever see till I'm through
Until someday soon you lay me in the dirt
That's the day I'll no longer hurt
Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 11:58 AM UTC
the city
filled in
the small
pond
in the middle
of my tiny
poem.
all the ducks
came to
my door
and complained
i am
simple
i agree
in the meekest
of language.
that they
have been
unhomed.
it is
my duty
they tell
me as a poet
to open
the door
of my
small poem
and let
them swim
in my bathtub.
i agree
it is tough
to be unhomed
there should
be plenty of room
in my weensy poem
for such
a small flock
of fluffy ducks.
the periods
are silent
because
they must know
something.
the ducks
fill up my
bathtub
as they quack
double sestina
to the pond
that has been
filled by those
unfeeling humans!
it is
hard to work
in such cacophony
such repetitive
quacking repetition
words
like floating wood
float to the surface
of my eye-ear
in spades.
often i type
my meager haikus
on my typewriter
with missing
chrome keys:
typewriter chrome keys flutter cure
clear water within pond flows pure
ducks like ink letters rise into line.
no
says my
inward-sparrow:
“that is an englyn milwr
not a haiku”
bless
you sparrow
i tried again:
typewriter keys clatter
rises like letters in moonlight
ducks swim on round poem.
Then the tiny bell
vibes
as my typewriter
comes to the margins
and quacking subsides.
The ducks come
to my study
and complain
that my typing
is quite distracting
to their
swimming.
The periods
can only chuckle
like crickets.
Dec 8, 2018
Dec 8, 2018 at 11:52 AM UTC
The forebodings of the dark night call,
To the yearnings of my meekest soul-
To those days of yesterday that pass,
And punishments that've taken their toll.
Wherefore do these worries rile,
To the resoluteness of my will-
To those days of fulfilling deeds,
And the countless yen I let them ****
I might tread my path without vision,
My stars to providence on a platter-
Thy words shall serve as allusions,
To breathe for as long as I need.
-Breathe.
May 31, 2018
May 31, 2018 at 3:26 PM UTC
The sunlight cannot overcome the cloud,
The water vapor blocks the rays from sight.
A tiny mouse can scare away a crowd,
The powerful concede without a fight.
A mighty ship sunk by a little leak,
A paper cut that makes a grown man cry,
Vast canyons are eroded by a creek,
Goliath felled by stone between the eye.
A single word can move a heart to feel,
Or shatter into pieces bonds of trust.
One look belies whatever eyes conceal,
One touch can turn a pious man to lust.
The meekest things can tame ferocity,
The stillness of your soul has vanquished me.
May 3, 2018
May 3, 2018 at 2:59 AM UTC
Long and arduous had been the climb.
Fifty years or so in the making.
A pinnacle claimed but unseen for what it was.
Was it folly or push that became my past, present and future.
Falling was but a blink in the making.
No anchor to hold me and foundations removed, abandoned, lost.
Successions of ricochets from jagged rock to jagged rock.
Carved to the core by granite hard betrayal and failures.
By chance did my fingers gain purchase to slow the fall.
More of a roll downhill than the plummet that near killed me.
But still trending down into the chasm of who I have become.
The place I am, the present, the bloodied remnant of who I was.
Limbs askew and misshapen-ed, bones shattered and core exposed.
Total vulnerability to even the meekest of creatures with ill intent.
Cowered, afraid and alone in and darkness still falling.
Momentary reprieve as fingers strike stone but too torn to grasp.
Mind operating in fragmented, distorted jigsaws of thought.
No box top picture remaining to focus the picture I am meant to be.
Too many pieces in different shapes to be who I once was.
Uncertain of enough pieces to make myself a semblance of whole.
Still endless the fall and the darkness.
Creature or granite strike constantly feared.
Cowered, alone, afraid and defeated.
The darkness and fall are who I have been made.
Apr 15, 2019
Apr 15, 2019 at 10:40 PM UTC
Did you know me
Did you know me when I knew you , back then
back when
none of this was real but we felt it
could be.
If you knew my type,
my sort o'critter
from under a
shadow of
a rock.
Von Neumann said you need not accept
responsibility for the reality
others imagine you in, or
something like that.
But, if
there was a then when I knew you,
then I know how to
take action
I
wave my hand
magi
swish, besom of de struction
con structuring
com panions, company of ---
no, there is no such
being appearing needed,
what's missin' for this
impossible
mission
Feynman, make a tool.
Ramanujan, right the algo rhyme
Count as reason all the sets of infinite things
being
as we see. As they be, with no seeing being done.
Re, same vocalization as Re, the big Kahuna
in Egypt, sun god, crazy family,
senility and drooling
rulers. That Re
sounds just jest jist like rey ray re, eh? and
re is the oldest word we
link to the idea of reason and counting.
Come, let us reason…
Re, eh,
that counts. Counting positions now
away from then in any direction.
Al
beta test re quire
That's for your protection.
Bubbles have edges for that very first reason,
keep the inside in and the outside out.
Feelings every language can name,
are those not spiritual things
being influential as they may?
Should we, you and me, let feelings reign
the realm?
****** your qualms awry.
My realm,
I took responsibility. Von Nuemann, meet
my machination. It grows and grows and grows,
breaks are mended,
edges tended,
the meekest of us make peace for a living.
But, if
there was a then when I knew you,
you know how this came to pass.
War as an idea, counted me out, worthless.
I was drunk and he who drunk
was you. ..
back when
none of this was real but we
imagined now would
prove the point, one way or another
Life makes us,
we, who knew then,
did you know me when I knew you , back then?
I
remember knowing, this
is the big show, the one that counts.
Jan 17, 2019
Jan 17, 2019 at 11:47 PM UTC
I am heartless.
I am bossy.
I care less.
I am mean.
I treat you like trash.
So you said.
I want to feel culpable.
And say, I am sorry.
But, you pressed the red button;
when you labelled me;
a mistake in your life.
I pinched myself real hard.
To let go the shock.
Yet, you feel no remorse.
You're unrepentant.
And that's the extreme.
I recalled your hurt to you.
You asked me to change the topic.
I understand it's no longer us,
I use to know.
We seem to ourselves strangers.
I no longer see you.
I see an alien.
Trespassing into my galaxy.
I must save my world.
Before I lose my mind.
Let me lose you.
One for one.
Is far better to losing everything.
I will wipe you off my memory.
You will cease to exist in my mind.
I'll pluck a better flower.
Who will see the good in me.
Who will tell me my acts the minute;
I as a human hurt her.
How can you be so bitter?
Nursing all my hurts from day one.
The times you messed things up,
You dragged your sinister shell;
to seek forgiveness from me.
I never turned you down.
I know I am a ******
I know I am blunt.
But I am the meekest man;
ever alive on this planet.
Your silence and mischief stinks;
like oko filling ground.
Where passers by find it hard to breathe.
Haven't I lived in that strange strench?
For too long I have tried to breathe.
For this once I have to leave.
I know you've long left me.
You had all your actions in a script.
Before a little oil droplet;
hit the wall of your lamp.
For you to shine the darkest light.
What you seek, you did not find.
What I will be is without you.
I am grateful for your good acts.
The times you acted an angel.
These days you are no better;
than a fallen angel.
Wild and rusty.
You've lost your beautiful wings.
I pray you find what you seek.
I'm sure you'll find your kind.
Because my kind is rare.
Now I am looking back.
Garnering all the fragments;
of our memories to burn them.
Burning these memories;
will pave way for a fresh start.
Than waking the dead long gone.
'Tis like making a fire on the ocean.
'Tis like playing romance with a viper.
Getting stung shouldn't be a surprise.
And I'm no fan of surprises.
I'll burn these memories;
so I can live again.
Burning memories.
The antidote to living again.
Jun 23, 2019
Jun 23, 2019 at 9:03 AM UTC
Heard,
Seen,
Felt,
Known.
Mostly I write,
So who I am is finally shown.
The meekest form,
I know to expose,
My inner workings,
How my heart goes...
I think it's no different,
Than the rest of the world.
I just wish everyone had a platform,
To be similarly heard.
Jan 3, 2017
Jan 3, 2017 at 12:18 PM UTC
Taking the story forward,
there are these people, all along the edges
of tyrannies in states of peace,
outlaws and anarchaltypes,
heroes for the meek,
the meekest of them all.
The man who thought, he shot
Liberty Balance,
edgewise, or we are ******* in wrong,
but, he fired off a round
of conjecture
f'sure,
no sweat, see the space we cease being,
doing we the *******
and we morph, cool way to say, we change
we become the point of life. We the living.
All our ancestors inherited the wind.
We hold it in our fists. Be gentle.
Jul 12, 2021
Jul 12, 2021 at 12:38 PM UTC
the yellow sea will take you away and the yellow sea will bring you back. in between the coming and the going, your father will speak to your mother about the tales her brother tells. the one about your father being born to carry a ladder and later in the same your mother born as well and with her an extra shadow. the two about her brother himself insisting to multitudes how on its mother’s command a tadpole swam into his ear. the unfinished few about who I am. the thrice changed account of the man with three hearts just like Jesus. the one he hasn’t told you about the visitor that eats tongue but is never hungry which is also the one about how we know what it eats. the story of two men hating the same woman over and over until they can close on nothing but frog-like delicacies. your favorite where he becomes your father and becomes too sad to release your least. the hated woman whose stomach is a black tire, the bits of which are found here in the meekest bull and there in a massive fish.
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 1:21 PM UTC
Not an eternal winter, nor an immortal war,
Could sully the beauty of thy aura, shine,
That thou understand this Truth I in earnest implore;
Such an endearing passion as is thine.
Then being blessed with the kindest voice;
Yours, the meekest that my jaded ears had heard,
Maketh the depressed and downcast spirit rejoice,
For each and every blessed word.
Thou deserve my praise, alms and admiration,
The blessings you beget I could not count,
That lift my spirit out of trepidation,
And give me the strength to my trials, surmount.
I hath not seen an angel truer,
Engaged in love and light's endeavour.
Apr 11, 2017
Apr 11, 2017 at 9:00 PM UTC