"methought" poems
Once a dream did weave a shade,
O’er my Angel-guarded bed.
That an Emmet lost it’s way
Where on grass methought I lay.
Troubled wildered and forlorn
Dark benighted travel-worn,
Over many a tangled spray,
All heart-broke I heard her say.
O my children! do they cry,
Do they hear their father sigh.
Now they look abroad to see,
Now return and weep for me.
Pitying I dropp’d a tear;
But I saw a glow-worm near:
Who replied. What wailing wight
Calls the watchman of the night.
I am set to light the ground,
While the beetle goes his round:
Follow now the beetles hum,
Little wanderer hie thee home.
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I dreamed that, as I wandered by the way,
Bare Winter suddenly was changed to Spring,
And gentle odours led my steps astray,
Mixed with a sound of waters murmuring
Along a shelving bank of turf, which lay
Under a copse, and hardly dared to fling
Its green arms round the ***** of the stream,
But kissed it and then fled, as thou mightest in dream.
There grew pied wind-flowers and violets,
Daisies, those pearled Arcturi of the earth,
The constellated flower that never sets;
Faint oxlips; tender bluebells, at whose birth
The sod scarce heaved; and that tall flower that wets—
Like a child, half in tenderness and mirth—
Its mother’s face with Heaven’s collected tears,
When the low wind, its playmate’s voice, it hears.
And in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine,
Green cowbind and the moonlight-coloured may,
And cherry-blossoms, and white cups, whose wine
Was the bright dew, yet drained not by the day;
And wild roses, and ivy serpentine,
With its dark buds and leaves, wandering astray;
And flowers azure, black, and streaked with gold,
Fairer than any wakened eyes behold.
And nearer to the river’s trembling edge
There grew broad flag-flowers, purple pranked with white,
And starry river buds among the sedge,
And floating water-lilies, broad and bright,
Which lit the oak that overhung the hedge
With moonlight beams of their own watery light;
And bulrushes, and reeds of such deep green
As soothed the dazzled eye with sober sheen.
Methought that of these visionary flowers
I made a nosegay, bound in such a way
That the same hues, which in their natural bowers
Were mingled or opposed, the like array
Kept these imprisoned children of the Hours
Within my hand,—and then, elate and gay,
I hastened to the spot whence I had come,
That I might there present it!—Oh! to whom?
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XXIII
Methought I saw my late espousèd saint
Brought to me, like Alcestis, from the grave,
Whom Jove’s great son to her glad husband gave,
Rescued from death by force, though pale and faint.
Mine, as whom washed from spot of child-bed taint
Purification in the Old Law did save,
And such, as yet once more I trust to have
Full sight of her in Heav’n without restraint,
Came vested all in white, pure as her mind:
Her face was veiled, yet to my fancied sight
Love, sweetness, goodness, in her person shined
So clear, as in no face with more delight.
But O, as to embrace me she inclined,
I waked, she fled, and day brought back my night.
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blossomblister
burst
(finally)
ate out my sickness
almost turned green.
took too much chlorophyll
(for my health –
i’ve seen the ads)
drank cups and cups
each night and each swallow
chirping pleasantly
made me feel stronger, but
almost turned green.
frustration peaked
almost at snow
but not quite,
couldn’t stand the dangling
piece of peanut butter anymore
had to grab for it
sick of the lack of meaningful
(methought now meknows)
0s and 1s and all
these mouse games,
had to grab for it,
had to scream.
almost turned green.
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 6:53 AM UTC
On that last night before we went
From out the doors where I was bred,
I dream'd a vision of the dead,
Which left my after-morn content.
Methought I dwelt within a hall,
And maidens with me: distant hills
From hidden summits fed with rills
A river sliding by the wall.
The hall with harp and carol rang.
They sang of what is wise and good
And graceful. In the centre stood
A statue veil'd, to which they sang;
And which, tho' veil'd, was known to me,
The shape of him I loved, and love
For ever: then flew in a dove
And brought a summons from the sea:
And when they learnt that I must go
They wept and wail'd, but led the way
To where a little shallop lay
At anchor in the flood below;
And on by many a level mead,
And shadowing bluff that made the banks,
We glided winding under ranks
Of iris, and the golden reed;
And still as vaster grew the shore
And roll'd the floods in grander space,
The maidens gather'd strength and grace
And presence, lordlier than before;
And I myself, who sat apart
And watch'd them, wax'd in every limb;
I felt the thews of Anakim,
The pulses of a Titan's heart;
As one would sing the death of war,
And one would chant the history
Of that great race, which is to be,
And one the shaping of a star;
Until the forward-creeping tides
Began to foam, and we to draw
From deep to deep, to where we saw
A great ship lift her shining sides.
The man we loved was there on deck,
But thrice as large as man he bent
To greet us. Up the side I went,
And fell in silence on his neck:
Whereat those maidens with one mind
Bewail'd their lot; I did them wrong:
'We served thee here' they said, 'so long,
And wilt thou leave us now behind?'
So rapt I was, they could not win
An answer from my lips, but he
Replying, 'Enter likewise ye
And go with us:' they enter'd in.
And while the wind began to sweep
A music out of sheet and shroud,
We steer'd her toward a crimson cloud
That landlike slept along the deep.
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O! for this dark terrestrial ball
Forsakes his azure-paved hall
A prince of heav’nly birth!
Divine Humanity behold,
What wonders rise, what charms unfold
At his descent to earth!
II.
The bosoms of the great and good
With wonder and delight he view’d,
And fix’d his empire there:
Him, close compressing to his breast,
The sire of gods and men address’d,
“My son, my heav’nly fair!
III.
“Descend to earth, there place thy throne;
“To succour man’s afflicted son
“Each human heart inspire:
“To act in bounties unconfin’d
“Enlarge the close contracted mind,
“And fill it with thy fire.”
IV.
Quick as the word, with swift career
He wings his course from star to star,
And leaves the bright abode.
The Virtue did his charms impart;
Their G——! then thy raptur’d heart
Perceiv’d the rushing God:
V.
For when thy pitying eye did see
The languid muse in low degree,
Then, then at thy desire
Descended the celestial nine;
O’er me methought they deign’d to shine,
And deign’d to string my lyre.
VI.
Can Afric’s muse forgetful prove?
Or can such friendship fail to move
A tender human heart?
Immortal Friendship laurel-crown’d
The smiling Graces all surround
With ev’ry heav’nly Art.
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Once across a Caledonia dreary, whose Echo,
Amid the Jötnar, was MAN, I wandered hurt and weary,
Until yon Glare, with deadly Rage flaming,
Lo! I beheld, next to the Iron Gates
Of a long-forgotten Ruin named still
After incorruptible Titanium.
A noble, finely engraved feudal Vest,
Under a Luminary invisible, implacable,
Shone thither with a Glare fiercer, methought,
Than that of the rubies at warlike Valhalla,
Amid Walls time-eaten, kingly Banners, and proud Towers,
And dwelt there in melting Titanium.
Deep memories of martial Woe
Like an arrow piercing my ***** and aimed
Thro' the Night with lethal Glare,
No barrier was there to be found
Between my Past yielding and this conquering Robe
With Runes marked deep in Titanium.
Thus I remembered having once graved,
In revered silence and solitary anger,
Into the Glare, within the Hills, upon the Dust,
The Emblem of the OVERMAN,
Which thou may again now see gleaming,
With pride Superhuman, o'er this garb of Titanium.
My Enemy Wraith haunting me no more,
Into a most profane dying hour,
I walked forth, to wear of the Armour of the Glare the worth,
And felt, intensely, from the Zenith of a most fiery Heaven,
The Rays from the Stars imbuing my Very Gore
With blinding, rageful Titanium.
Hereupon, with Cuirass thus worn, I bethought me of boldly ascending,
With heavy Claymore drawn, in a Guard of the Hawk,
At Ultima Thule, of the Bluish Glare, the Hidden Rock,
And at its scorching Crest, with Blade o'er me flashing, widened my gathering Breast,
The Largest Mirror, the Highest Beacon, aye,
Before the wild Blaze molten down in Titanium.
Jul 24, 2020
Jul 24, 2020 at 3:12 AM UTC
No specious splendour of this stone
Endears it to my memory ever;
With lustre only once it shone,
And blushes modest as the giver.
Some, who can sneer at friendship’s ties,
Have, for my weakness, oft reprov’d me;
Yet still the simple gift I prize,
For I am sure, the giver lov’d me.
He offer’d it with downcast look,
As fearful that I might refuse it;
I told him, when the gift I took,
My only fear should be, to lose it.
This pledge attentively I view’d,
And sparkling as I held it near,
Methought one drop the stone bedew’d,
And, ever since, I’ve lov’d a tear.
Still, to adorn his humble youth,
Nor wealth nor birth their treasures yield;
But he, who seeks the flowers of truth,
Must quit the garden, for the field.
’Tis not the plant uprear’d in sloth,
Which beauty shews, and sheds perfume;
The flowers, which yield the most of both,
In Nature’s wild luxuriance bloom.
Had Fortune aided Nature’s care,
For once forgetting to be blind,
His would have been an ample share,
If well proportioned to his mind.
But had the Goddess clearly seen,
His form had fix’d her fickle breast;
Her countless hoards would his have been,
And none remain’d to give the rest.
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the world outside will not let one alone
not for one second to breathe open air
just heed the rastaman on rastaphone
speaking his truth in simple honest tone
with words of import durable and fair
the world outside will not let one alone
but like a dog protecting its last bone
will growl and dart at those who only dare
just heed the rastaman on rastaphone
with such a message that we have to own
ourselves bemused and forced indeed to care
the world outside will not let one alone
not even emperor asleep on throne
who would methought have time enough to spare
just heed the rastaman on rastaphone
give up the past and head beyond the known
into the heart of humans everywhere
the world outside will not let one alone
just heed the rastaman on rastaphone
Oct 30, 2011
Oct 30, 2011 at 4:01 PM UTC
I shall give thee my love
Prithee with no deceit
I know not. Know you?
A glance of the eye
To ponder in woodness
Tis not keak nor whiteliver
A sky with wooly clouds
Methought you are theow
I shall bethink myself
Good morrow my lady!
My heart sings to see thee
Shy love, methinks of thou
O come hither, my life's delight!
Fie ! Fie on you !
To make me melt in thou words
Forsooth tis me, your prey
Nay my lady! tis me.
O my love's like a red rose.
I bid you to be ruled by me
I want to guard your honor
I pray to see thee with me
Aye my lord! Thou are mine
And I shall be thine.
You are the true sapphire
your fair sweet face
Make me cherish all that is good.
I want to stay faithful
I could never constrain myself
from loving and praising you.
Mine eyes have drawn thy shape
Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night.
Peace in thy breast!
So sweet to rest!
Alas! Thus If I am to die
Shh-- My love we shall die together
For I could not imagine
The pain I shall have to bear.
Tis thou whom I love and desire
For you, my sweet companion
I have thus given my heart.
Dec 25, 2015
Dec 25, 2015 at 4:21 PM UTC
Watching his velour for he was to be my knight,
Dismounting he spoke in clever clichés and poetic chime,
Swooned & enchanted my silk craft flutter upon the ground
Dreaming I of fevered kiss at night chambers,
Unforgettable the offense my skirts held high,
Would he carry the fortune of a king and wisdom of a sage?
Pray tell my good knight of roses across the moon
Merlin be twining the silk thread,
Mine fingers restless in watch over the mazes,
His crafting potions and poisons be pale,
All through bora blue skies trembling flesh am I
One hand to the sky, another to earth below,
Doth love speak there at centre of thy chest?
Admist silent alchemy foretold,
Methought Magick be alone sorrows gold
Smoothing long silks, lily pond sings,
Mine tortured concupiscence
Reflection light is seeping,
Spectral are illusions spawn immortal gold,
Star lights ignite mine love sweet knight
Why so far?
© Arnay Rumens / A Sol Poet 2013
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 10:56 PM UTC
an evening wisper
look up the
sky,
beautious sky, blue
and white appeared
bright illuminate, the
star of glorious
beauty,
beautious sky ye
decorate.
methought ye appear same eternal,
oh beautious sky,
from where the earth
heralds it's season,
....
Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 3:57 PM UTC
With apologies to Edgar Allen Poe.
Once, upon a weekend morning, while I slumbered, loudly snoring
After many a workday of quaint and forgotten chores
While I nodded, well past napping, suddenly there came a scratching,
As if the paint was gently stripping, ripping from the bedroom door.
“He’ll stop,” I muttered, “scratching at my chamber door.”
“He’s only bored, and nothing more”
Deep into my blanket hiding, there I lay in fear abiding,
Doubting, hoping I could sleep as I had ever slept before;
But the silence then was broken, and the door way, old and oaken,
Swung open as the clever kitty, made the lock a simple chore
And then my dreams were gone as are the winds of yester-yore
I knew I should have fixed that door.
Open then he pushed the doorway, then, with padded foot and whisker,
In he stepped, the ebon creature who I bought that cat food for
Not the least obeisance made he; not an instant stopped or stayed he;
But, like he who owns the household, perched above my pillowed snores —
Perched upon the feathered pillow which my sleeping bonnet bore —
Perched, and silently implored.
Then, methought, the cat grew braver, thinking of his breakfast’s savor
Poking at my sleeping visage, poking more, and more and more.
"Wretch," I cried, "the devil’s sent thee — a witch cat sent to leave me
No respite and no Nepenthe, but only the memory of the sleep I had before!
Let me quaff this kind Nepenthe and rejoin my final snore!"
Purred the black cat, "Nevermore."
“Be that word our sign of parting, cat or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting —
As I threw him into the darkness of the Night's Plutonian shore.
“Leave my slumber unbroken! Come you not with purr and pokin’
Take thy paw out of my nostril, and take thy **** right out the door!
Leave no black fur as a token, you eat at nine, and not before!”
Cried the black cat, "I like before."
But that **** cat, never quitting, still is sitting, still is splitting
The recently repaired latex on my bedroom door;
And his eyes have all the burning of a feline that is yearning,
For the cat dish full of kibbles, sitting, sitting on the kitchen floor;
As my soul rose from the blankets, with a howling, futile roar:
Sleeping in on weekends — nevermore!
Dec 19, 2016
Dec 19, 2016 at 10:25 PM UTC
Only an artists knows about
Dancing lights
Lonesome fights
the lurid phase of darker nights
Dead silence
Unspoken perseverance.
Only an artist see through
Real beauty of every heart
In fact, second side of every ****
Everyone sees blues
He remains imaginative toward life's hues
That's what makes him an nightly trailblazer
Inquisitive to self made problems and a decipher.
An Artist feels the dialects of wind and how it cleaves
What it says and how much weight it carries
Every rain summer and winter passes by under the eye of his heart,
Through heart of his art,
If he could feel the way it is,
He can shape up to the way as he wishes.
Methought, it was a game of mind
I gotta know when i by myself entangled
For me, it's like eat sleep and imagine
None next than burning myself on clock's trine
I found peace of day at 3 am
Picture of an fictitious world exist at right burial
Of all animal
Into bed for some time.
If I talk about pain healer?
If I talk about motivator?
What if I talk about gumptional trap?
No, all are lies for you unless
If you don't want to feel, heal or be a muse
Mar 24, 2017
Mar 24, 2017 at 2:44 PM UTC
Torment, what bliss I did
to owe this primrose path
that transgression thee commit
and rejoice in my spathe.
Yon through the frigid lake
thee come cold and earnest
thy end no prey shall see
thee bring the brawny mist.
Thy tales did tribes tell
of vagrants in mausoleum held
who call to see the cherubim sing
those men till end in delirium dwell.
Voices of myriad bards I heard
who oracled my ruin in thee
that if I breathe thy arid wind
death shall soon coax me.
So colorable their denounces seem
for once methought,
they had me charmed
shall I abstain me to thee or naught.
But when thee to me clearly come
and to me wed thy three beauty lass
my mind cleared as cloudless sky
then, gay, I walked through dark crevasse.
There in the wilderness I found me home
I learned in life the need of pain
that to heal thee art the perfect partner
in thee is life exquisite attained.
Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 11:19 PM UTC
The Dead poet---lord alfred douglas
I dreamed of him last night,I saw his face
All radiant and unshadowed of distress,
And as of old, in music measureless,
Heard his golden voice and marked him trace
Under the common thing the hidden grace, a
And conjure wonder out of emptiness,
And all the world was an enchanted place.
And then methought outside a locked gate
I mourned the loss of unrecord words,
Forgotten tales and mysteries half said,
wonders that might have been articulate,
And so I woke and knew that he was dead.
Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 6:24 PM UTC
Of Real Or "FAKE" Memories
Earlier today...upon
setting feet out a side door,
a refreshingly cool rain
washed away present woes,
and ushered auld lang syne,
sans mine earlier childhood quatrain
such as the incy wincy spider sung
(way out of tune) by
my then young mum,
yet clear as day she evinced
unabashed loved simply and plain,
which cherished rarely
jogged memory main,
lee lost in sigh burr space,
perhaps arising some
where (over the rainbow...)
in toto within my midbrain
ah...methought, how perfectly spontaneous
I spunkily danced down
Drury (er rather Lantern) Lane
sudden recollection of real or
feigned salad days of yore
blessedly carefree, innocently naive,
which elapsed many a score
years ago poked thru consciousness
so vividly, despite
at nineteen and four
tee Earth's orbitz ago,
hence summarily explore
thyself as an adorable boy around
'pon the onset of incipient curiosity
(i.e. preschooler),
aye did unexpectedly bound
forth like a midsize dog ecstatic
to greet her/his master,
the latter played and clowned
with four legged woman's/
man's "best friend,"
where non verbal
communication did expound
volumes of unconditional mutually
symphonic, sympathetic, and symbiotic
couched make believe buddies
never abandoned me always around:
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 1:41 AM UTC