"meekness" poems
1. your precious smile,
that never failed to shine;
a heaven-sent beam,
that made my heart your realm.
2. your tenderness,
that gave me bliss;
how could someone be
like you, so dearly?
3. your good vibes,
that surpassed all tribes
in giving off the positivity
i need for my stubborn reality.
4. your talents,
that awakened everyone's hearts;
you are my significant inspiration,
you give life to my life's ambition.
5. your humility,
that's filled with sincerity.
while everyone else is toplofty,
you remained lowly.
not everyone as wonderful as you,
could show meekness too.
6. the happiness you shared,
at times when smiling is something
i never dared;
darling, it meant everything.
7. for your meaningful silence,
that gave me a better comprehension.
although your stillness was tense,
i knew in my heart it was never a rejection.
8. for your music,
that never halts to flourish.
music, your depiction of aesthetic;
through you, the melody will never tarnish.
9. for being your genuine self,
you gave me potency to do the same.
shamming is no longer something i'll play, for you taught me how to
end that witless game.
10. for bringing me daily sunshine,
for setting the moon & the stars aligned;
my everyday became better,
and i will treasure you forever.
there are way more reasons
on why i love you for real.
through the passing seasons
i could slowly & slowly reveal
and show you how i truly feel.
as time passes us by,
i would no longer hesitate
and keep my sentiments ensconced.
through the coming weeks, months and years,
as long as we have all the time
i would dauntlessly lay out to you
that the way i feel for you is true.
Jun 23, 2018
Jun 23, 2018 at 8:45 AM UTC
You're blind when you see me,
I'm on my knees and broken.
I remind you who I really am,
Remember these words I've spoken.
Unshakable you see me,
You see me standing tall.
Like a statue made of stone,
You see a rock who'll never fall.
Unbreakable you see me,
You see me effortlessly bold.
Like the stars will always shine,
You see power you think I hold.
Unstoppable you see me,
You see me fighting without fear.
Like relentless worriers conquer,
You see a hero who never sheds a tear.
I make my strength shine bright,
Shine to cover up my weakness.
You can't see past my Confidence,
You refuse to see me my meekness
Even stone can't stand forever,
The world will beat it down.
I remind you I'm only human,
The world can make me drown.
Even stars can't shine so bright,
So bright to shine through the clouds.
I remind you I'm just another face,
Another face in amongst the crowds.
Even heroes can't withstand all,
Hold the weight of the world alone.
I remind you I can't hold on forever,
Excessive trials will break my backbone.
I refuse to let you believe,
Believe who you see is perfect.
A pedestal I don't deserve,
And don't EVER say I'm worth it.
Apr 12, 2017
Apr 12, 2017 at 11:47 PM UTC
When I see Nelson Mandela, I see a man of love. This love had to come from a God above.
When I see Nelson Mandela, I see a man filled with joy. He exit the prison dancing, joining in with men, and women, and every girl and boy.
When I see Nelson Mandela, I see a man of peace. Even if it took 27 years of ******* he refused to let it cease.
When I see Nelson Mandela, I see a man who suffered long. He always remained with humility, even though his suffering was wrong.
When I see Nelson Mandela, I see a man filled with gentleness. He wanted to teach mankind, to be nothing less.
When I see Nelson Mandela, I see a man who produce goodness throughout the land. He believed to get this accompolished; he knew this fruit must stand.
When I see Nelson Mandela, I see a man of faith. He made himself content serving his time; determined to do what's right.
When I see Nelson Mandela, I see a man of meekness. He was not high minded, but encouraged people to grow out of their weakness.
When I see Nelson Mandela, I see a man who had temperance. He knew how to get his point of view over, while even giving you a chance.
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 3:18 PM UTC
1
My first is no proof of my second,
Though my second's a proof of my first:
If I were my whole I should tell you
Quite freely my best and my worst.
One clue more: if you fail to discover
My meaning, you're blind as a mole;
But if you will frankly confess it,
You show yourself clearly my whole.
2
My first may be the firstborn,
The second child may be;
My second is a texture light
And elegant to see:
My whole do those too often write
Who are from talent free.
3
How many authors are my first!
And I shall be so too
Unless I finish speedily
That which I have to do.
My second is a lofty tree
And a delicious fruit;
This in the hot-house flourishes--
That amid rocks takes root.
My whole is an immortal queen
Renowned in classic lore:
Her a god won without her will,
And her a goddess bore.
4
Me you often meet
In London's crowded street,
And merry children's voices my resting-place proclaim.
Pictures and prose and verse
Compose me--I rehearse
Evil and good and folly, and call each by its name.
I make men glad, and I
Can bid their senses fly,
And festive echoes know me of Isis and of Cam.
But give me to a friend,
And amity will end,
Though he may have the temper and meekness of a lamb.
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My Heart is a drunken bipolar maniac with masochistic tendencies .
My Heart does not care about your feelings,
or the fretting of my apologetic Mind.
It is ravenous and deranged;
it will devour your succulent hopes and spit out the bones.
My Heart is one mean ************
it is a rabid wolverine with a hangover who ate razor-blades for breakfast,
and no, it does not want to go steady
or hold hands.
It wants to rip the soft white throat of your infatuation
and watch your eloquent offerings pool around your feet.
Unless, of course, you do not want me.
For met with that alluring indifference,
my unhinged pit-bull of a Heart will curl at your feet with doe-eyed meekness
and follow you from room to room in an agony of adoration
while Self-Respect and Dignity sulk in some dusty corner, thinking
"Please God, won't somebody muzzle that crazy *****
May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 7:45 AM UTC
The way of the Spirit is...
Love, the Spirit's essence;
Joy, the Spirit's song;
Peace, the Spirit's rest;
Longsuffering, the Spirit's patience;
Gentleness, the Spirit's touch;
Goodness, the Spirit's manner;
Faith, the Spirit's attitude;
Meekness, the Spirit's strength;
Temperance, the Spirit's control.
©1981 Michael S. Davis
A Commentary on Galatians 5:22-23
Apr 10, 2013
Apr 10, 2013 at 1:12 PM UTC
I am descended of Lilith,
I am a child of eve,
I am cast out, i am trod on.
I am likeness of Kali,
re-incarnation of Aphrodite.
In my arms nations
have been built
and destroyed.
My kiss has charmed
and killed.
My hips have
cradled kings and emperors,
borne beggars and lepers.
I am all this WOMAN.
Woman
not of hips and *******
and womb.
Woman
not of servitude, meekness
and petty deceit.
I am Woman.
Woman
of pain and love
and hate.
Woman
of blood rivers and
barren deserts.
I am Woman.
So heed me
Heed my pain,
watch my deeds,
for my meekness,
my servitude,
Are mere cloaks worn
to shield, to imprison
to impede...
And as the soul sheds the body
So do I now shed
this lie, this deceit
You create for all to believe
And become just
WOMAN
Jul 22, 2012
Jul 22, 2012 at 5:42 PM UTC
The homecoming of the soul is a great affair of joy and sweetness
but is also characterised by a feeling of surrender and meekness.
After having gone astray through ignorance into the world of pain and sorrow
it returns back home like a prodigal son with joy and thought for the morrow.
___________________________________________________________
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 5:56 AM UTC
Blessed are the mild and long-suffering,
for they alone shall inherit the earth;
their happiness and contentment comes…
from only understanding their Godly worth.
Not worried about accusations against me-
my Lord continues to defend His children.
My Lord is the eternal and heavenly advocate
and His Blood overcomes all affects of sin.
Real meekness… is strength under control,
while gentleness demonstrates self-constraint
in the midst of trying, difficult circumstances
and walking in genuine Love without complaint.
I’m able to endure any, ungodly responses,
when acknowledging my dependence on Christ.
I will eventually receive the comfort of God,
from standing on His promises… for my life.
.
.
.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Matt 5:5; Phil 4:12-13
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2014, All rights reserved.
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 9:37 AM UTC
The sun descending in the west.
The evening star does shine.
The birds are silent in their nest,
And I must seek for mine,
The moon like a flower,
In heavens high bower;
With silent delight,
Sits and smiles on the night.
Farewell green fields and happy groves,
Where flocks have took delight;
Where lambs have nibbled, silent moves
The feet of angels bright;
Unseen they pour blessing,
And joy without ceasing,
On each bud and blossom,
And each sleeping *****
They look in every thoughtless nest
Where birds are covered warm;
They visit caves of every beast,
To keep them all from harm;
If they see any weeping.
That should have been sleeping
They pour sleep on their head
And sit down by their bed.
When wolves and tygers howl for prey
They pitying stand and weep;
Seeking to drive their thirst away,
And keep them from the sheep.
But if they rush dreadful;
The angels most heedful,
Receive each mild spirit.
New worlds to inherit.
And there the lions ruddy eyes,
Shall flow with tears of gold;
And pitying the tender cries,
And walking round the fold:
Saying: wrath by his meekness
And by his health, sickness.
Is driven away,
From our immortal day.
And now beside thee, bleating lamb.
I can lie down and sleep;
Or think on him who bore thy name.
Graze after thee and weep.
For wash’d in lifes river.
My bright mane for ever.
Shall shine like the gold,
As I guard o’er the fold.
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i pull away in the nick of time
right before he captures his lips with mine
he grabs my shoulders
my meekness making him bolder
and as i struggle he pulls me in closer
as if this changes the fact that this is part of an older
struggle for dominance
but aware of an audience
i shrug out of his violent embrace
as his angry fingers try to erase
my fear of his anger
my fear that he will linger
in this ferocious dispute
of me trying to escape you
bruises bloom as you glide your hand down my arm
as you make everyone forget with your charm
bruises bloom in my heart
as your words tear me apart
bruises bloom in my mind
as you blind
the ones that could mend
the bruises you tend
like a garden of blue green
roses
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 10:16 PM UTC
Calm, sad, secure; behind high convent walls,
These watch the sacred lamp, these watch and pray:
And it is one with them when evening falls,
And one with them the cold return of day.
These heed not time; their nights and days they make
Into a long returning rosary,
Whereon their lives are threaded for Christ's sake;
Meekness and vigilance and chastity.
A vowed patrol, in silent companies,
Life-long they keep before the living Christ.
In the dim church, their prayers and penances
Are fragrant incense to the Sacrificed.
Outside, the world is wild and passionate;
Man's weary laughter and his sick despair
Entreat at their impenetrable gate:
They heed no voices in their dream of prayer.
They saw the glory of the world displayed;
They saw the bitter of it, and the sweet;
They knew the roses of the world should fade,
And be trod under by the hurrying feet.
Therefore they rather put away desire,
And crossed their hands and came to sanctuary
And veiled their heads and put on coarse attire:
Because their comeliness was vanity.
And there they rest; they have serene insight
Of the illuminating dawn to be:
Mary's sweet Star dispels for them the night,
The proper darkness of humanity.
Calm, sad, secure; with faces worn and mild:
Surely their choice of vigil is the best?
Yea! for our roses fade, the world is wild;
But there, beside the altar, there is rest.
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*Tears as brittle
As glass cascade lazily down
Her rosy cheeks leaving behind
Indelible outstanding imprints
They reveal a brokenness
A vulnerability that’s so
Sweet and scary almost
In equal measure
Her eyes know not the
Splendor of a radiant sparkle
They downcast and a
Shade darker than normal
Naivety meekness and innocence
Jostle unabated within her eyes bounds
But seldom if never
Do her fears see the light of day
Her eyes speak a dialect
That would mind boggle linguists
Of reasonable repute
And render them obsolete
She undoubtedly a goddess
Of pure emotion and acute sensitivity*
Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 6:08 AM UTC
I could have come Goose stepping through that door on eggshells
With an anchor in the old ways, and the wind of change in my sails.
the crux is; decide what you want foul demon,
I can shield you from the fire or burn bright to show you the way,
but I will never burn out and I will never blow away.
So go snare some other paradox boxer
or lay in the brier patch of tangle choice
you once forced into my sides.
I do not permit you to handcuff your heart to my wrists,
and the baggage? Can stay at indoors.
The persistent demand of my presence pushes me into the love affair with the lies I tell myself that make you bearable.
I make no apologies for my vacant smile,
you bought my body not my soul.
And the clocks and deadlines made me to fix a do not disturb sign on my mind.
With the ultimatums delivered to me ear-trumpeting the feelings that already echo in my diminishing proud walk,
The spine slump didn't take long to take hold.
These are not poses.
This is who I am,
or at least who I used to be,
Or at least who I should have been,
But for the game of Chinese whispers Played with champions of the rumour mill and the ghosts they've created.
Removed from the hiding places are the scars and the tumours, I've been curing them in the sun.
If you came to me looking for a hero stance and a place to live at the foot of a mountain called meekness, then I will let you down.
I was bowled over by the crud slides long ago,
And now like all great insects,
I've wriggled free of the muck,
Striving out from under
more like Frankenstein's Monster
thriving in the thunder.
And making an exit,
whether you like it or not.
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 4:58 PM UTC
In the rain in the sun,
One smile stood out,
A giggle a laugh,
A face softer than a puppies pout
One colour many looks,
Lilac was the lassie’s heart,
Her meekness in her passion and books,
This lilac lassie was small in size, but big in heart.
She knew that one day her tears of joy and sadness,
Would be her part in the world,
She would pray, never fight, and in her gladness,
The Little Lilac Lassie would always be a special girl.
“I love I love!”
She would chant in her little garden, her own special place,
But what do these words really mean? “I love I love!”
Can you imagine the enchanted look on her white, yet marry face.
She leaped she danced she sang in the rain,
It was her most beloved place in the world,
For rain you cannot hold in your hand to your own advantage, keep on yourself for pride, or make from your arrogance,
That is why rain is special, all on its own.
This told her that The Abba Father was just as the same as the rain could ever be, but for now shall she pray, hope, and have faith, The Little Lilac Lassie.
Mar 15, 2014
Mar 15, 2014 at 10:29 AM UTC
Today is your birthday, spindle-top maid.
Another year of desolate bridges.
Bridges by us, once believed to be true,
now laid to rest in mineralised brine.
Though my desires have long since faded,
small town streets will forever sing your name,
calling, calling, for youth and infant love.
Time may have set, but as with Giza stone
you lay in evidence of what has been.
And now, in years progressed, I tend to this,
my page. Some hungover apology,
for cruelness, that in ignorance, I wreaked.
For, though in my life there is ugliness,
and evil now apparent in this world;
I have learnt through experience, virtue
of kindness, of careful tread upon land.
Oh, mother of Horus, and Christian slave,
you bought me devotion in time of aid.
I'm calling, calling, in meekness undue,
for your sandstone likeness to hold in place.
With time comes erosion, African wind,
to scorch at the kindness, held to your breast.
So, in fear of forced blindness, cynical
waste; I mumble in this dirt-kissed prayer.
God of knowledge, oh God of braying flock,
bring to me your scripture, word of Thoth.
All so I can deliver, all so I
can sing; this tuneless ode of my redress,
this humbled hope for spring.
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 6:32 PM UTC
this but a nightmare tale
for the adopted child
he'd not been treated with
a meekness so mild
raised by parents
who were sick of mind disposition
they abused him
without having any contrition
the boy utilized by deviant grown men
for ****** gratification
there was no human decency
in this fornication
their child's photos
shown to online perverts
who'd drool at the sight
of these lewd adverts
as a mere babe the lad
was groomed for paedophiles
of his parent's wickedness
they'd be placed on criminal files
no Christmas Dreams
only a lasting memory of buggery
the child was deprived
of innocence in his infancy
Dec 8, 2016
Dec 8, 2016 at 6:26 PM UTC
**Like the merchant who claimed to have a spear that could penetrate anything
And a shield that nothing could penetrate
This is a paradox, and it will be loved by many
For the same reasons that many hate
As the wise young man with dreadlocks
Grows older and wiser... though baldness is his fate
He knows when to slow his pace, where haste would make him late
In due time his meekness would pay off
And they will say "His insignificance made him great."
Fly on the wall... unseen to all
Watching and laying in wait
In his principles he remains grounded, which allows him to levitate
Above the chaos
And find sanity in madness
Sanity... to calculate
To make choices, from experience of indecision
Without taking aim, to hit his target with utmost precision
A rational mind, complimented by gut feeling
Result oriented, but if they found out his method
It would probably leave them perplexed, like an honest man caught stealing.**
Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 4:19 AM UTC
Being Invisible
Why can't people see me?
Is the question I ask
Looking at me with their judgemental eyes
That look I despise
Being invisible walking through life
No one recognizes my pain and strife
Not opaque
Not even translucent
Just plain ole invisible–transparent
People look past me, through me
They just can’t see me
Taking my kindness for weakness
Mistaking my smile for meekness
Every single day I pray
God how much more can I take
Am I being punished for my past mistakes
Then, just like that, I open my eyes
Did I just dream I was invisible?
Was it just visual subconscious lies?
Could someone really be invisible?
I mean, is it even considerable?
Being invisible
To the seen it’s unseen
Can a person really be invisible?
Or does that only happen in an invisible person’s dreams?
Mar 4, 2022
Mar 4, 2022 at 10:55 PM UTC
Sin glows
With sparkling richness
Of all luminaries
of blanketing galaxy
Sin is worshiped and enshrined
Righteousness is
but blase fallacy
With all over-flowing
Affluence
of new pentecostal churches
and their greedy pastors
And easy-come riches
of Chiadzwa diamond fields
with her flippant Gwejas and Gwejerinas
Life is but black
like Soddom's ****
I hear the knell of dawning doom
As Angels of doom boom...
I swear by ****** Mary's blessed ****
I saw a Stephen preaching down Rekai Tangwena Ave
And was run down by a speeding motor car
"O poor chap, was a good fellow," muttered God
I saw drunken Thomas roaming the streets
Of cogitation convincing himself
it was true news
That brother Jesus, pot-bellied in Armani suit
Was back riding a top of the range Lamborghini
And God shrugged his shoulders,kept quiet
Afraid it may be fatally true
I saw God wet his pants
When listening to Elliot The Idiot's "Songs of Sobs"
That applaud Simon and Peter fishing
From people's pockets
Songs that revere and adorn the vigilant
Pillar of Salt
Scorn and mock
the meekness and softness of heart
At Golgotha...
Sin is vermin spreading
In this our home,the infierno grande
-dougwa-
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 8:10 AM UTC
Everything, the Fruit of the Spirit is.
You are.
I know it.
Seen you show it.
Temperance, you have it built in.
Meekness, is the humbleness of your heart.
Faith, you adapted to it to a tee.
The kingdom of Christ means a lot.
Everything, the Fruit of the Spirit is.
You are.
Your goodness.
Your goodness comes from your caring soul.
You placed it, as everyone goal.
Your gentleness, shows in your kindness.
And when longsuffering comes to you.
You shows your patience in dealing with it.
I just know.
You are everything the Fruit of the Spirit is.
Ask to describe joy?
I point to you.
Even when simple words would do.
Quiet peace, is your ability to avoid conflicts.
Or let others get you caught up.
And since you love me unconditionally.
I know, you are love.
I see it in your eyes.
And feel it in your love.
Nine qualities that laws can't govern.
But others can apply.
Jun 7, 2013
Jun 7, 2013 at 10:11 AM UTC
Jump on the boat and take is real slow
Throw the canvas and splash that oil
Squash the duck feathers and fill the mill
As the harmonica cruises craft the talk real slow
A touch of the knee and the spark shatters
A charter of recklessness heckled in two-tone composition
Not a monochrome but a jest of kaleidoscope cores
A fearless horizon of sirens and chaotic applause
A sate of pureness, meekness;widely see this woman words
The worth of how she works, the sweat in her sincerity
Spot the little life that she holds, clutch her lifetime ascensions
The silhouette that shows and fades away,chase her palm
Stroke her freedom, take her high to the clouds and show her
Ask her to sing her sweetest prescribed proscriptions
Be the operator that jerks her stringed rhythmic blues
Shine ohh diamond, Strike ohh as you expand…… touch the sentiment
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 3:22 PM UTC
Stand fast therefore in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free, and be not entangled again with the yoke of *******
2 Behold, I Paul say unto you, that if ye be circumcised, Christ shall profit you nothing.
3 For I testify again to every man that is circumcised, that he is a debtor to do the whole law.
4 Christ is become of no effect unto you, whosoever of you are justified by the law; ye are fallen from grace.
5 For we through the Spirit wait for the hope of righteousness by faith.
6 For in Jesus Christ neither circumcision availeth any thing, nor uncircumcision; but faith which worketh by love.
7 Ye did run well; who did hinder you that ye should not obey the truth?
8 This persuasion cometh not of him that calleth you.
9 A little leaven leaveneth the whole lump.
10 I have confidence in you through the Lord, that ye will be none otherwise minded: but he that troubleth you shall bear his judgment, whosoever he be.
11 And I, brethren, if I yet preach circumcision, why do I yet suffer persecution? then is the offence of the cross ceased.
12 I would they were even cut off which trouble you.
13 For, brethren, ye have been called unto liberty; only use not liberty for an occasion to the flesh, but by love serve one another.
14 For all the law is fulfilled in one word, even in this; Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.
15 But if ye bite and devour one another, take heed that ye be not consumed one of another.
16 This I say then, Walk in the Spirit, and ye shall not fulfil the lust of the flesh.
17 For the flesh lusteth against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh: and these are contrary the one to the other: so that ye cannot do the things that ye would.
18 But if ye be led of the Spirit, ye are not under the law.
19 Now the works of the flesh are manifest, which are these; Adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lasciviousness,
20 Idolatry, witchcraft, hatred, variance, emulations, wrath, strife, seditions, heresies,
21 Envyings, murders, drunkenness, revellings, and such like: of the which I tell you before, as I have also told you in time past, that they which do such things shall not inherit the kingdom of God.
22 But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith,
23 Meekness, temperance: against such there is no law.
24 And they that are Christ's have crucified the flesh with the affections and lusts.
25 If we live in the Spirit, let us also walk in the Spirit.
26 Let us not be desirous of vain glory, provoking one another, envying one another.
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 6:17 AM UTC
Great men have been among us; hands that penn’d
And tongues that utter’d wisdom—better none:
The later Sidney, Marvel, Harrington,
Young Vane, and others who call’d Milton friend.
These moralists could act and comprehend:
They knew how genuine glory was put on;
Taught us how rightfully a nation shone
In splendour: what strength was, that would not bend
But in magnanimous meekness. France, ’tis strange,
Hath brought forth no such souls as we had then.
Perpetual emptiness! unceasing change!
No single volume paramount, no code,
No master spirit, no determined road;
But equally a want of books and men!
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Inside my room,
The hot groans
screamed
A merry finishing.
…Lame whine.
Nicer emotions
Lift along
A meekness.
-Idle Wrath
——————————————————————————————————
Another ghost
scared me
Fingers in my hair
meanwhile
more nicotines
falling to make sense.
-Wild Heart
Oct 8, 2011
Oct 8, 2011 at 3:08 PM UTC