"misgiven" poems
There's a lady who's sure all that glitters is gold
And she's buying a stairway to heaven.
When she gets there she knows, if the stores are all closed
With a word she can get what she came for.
Ooh, ooh, and she's buying a stairway to heaven.
There's a sign on the wall but she wants to be sure
'Cause you know sometimes words have two meanings.
In a tree by the brook, there's a songbird who sings,
Sometimes all of our thoughts are misgiven.
Ooh, it makes me wonder,
Ooh, it makes me wonder.
There's a feeling I get when I look to the west,
And my spirit is crying for leaving.
In my thoughts I have seen rings of smoke through the trees,
And the voices of those who stand looking.
Ooh, it makes me wonder,
Ooh, it really makes me wonder.
And it's whispered that soon, if we all call the tune,
Then the piper will lead us to reason.
And a new day will dawn for those who stand long,
And the forests will echo with laughter.
If there's a bustle in your hedgerow, don't be alarmed now,
It's just a spring clean for the May queen.
Yes, there are two paths you can go by, but in the long run
There's still time to change the road you're on.
And it makes me wonder.
Your head is humming and it won't go, in case you don't know,
The piper's calling you to join him,
Dear lady, can you hear the wind blow, and did you know
Your stairway lies on the whispering wind?
And as we wind on down the road
Our shadows taller than our soul.
There walks a lady we all know
Who shines white light and wants to show
How everything still turns to gold.
And if you listen very hard
The tune will come to you at last.
When all are one and one is all
To be a rock and not to roll.
And she's buying a stairway to heaven.
Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 9:37 PM UTC
There's a lady who's sure all that glitters is gold
And she's buying a stairway to heaven.
When she gets there she knows, if the stores are all closed
With a word she can get what she came for.
There's a sign on the wall but she wants to be sure
'Cause you know sometimes words have two meanings.
In a tree by the brook, there's a songbird who sings,
Sometimes all of our thoughts are misgiven.
There's a feeling I get when I look to the west,
And my spirit is crying for leaving.
In my thoughts I have seen rings of smoke through the trees,
And the voices of those who stand looking.
And it's whispered that soon, if we all call the tune,
Then the piper will lead us to reason.
And a new day will dawn for those who stand long,
And the forests will echo with laughter.
If there's a bustle in your hedgerow, don't be alarmed now,
It's just a spring clean for the May queen.
Yes, there are two paths you can go by, but in the long run
There's still time to change the road you're on.
And it makes me wonder.
Your head is humming and it won't go, in case you don't know,
The piper's calling you to join him,
Dear lady, can you hear the wind blow, and did you know
Your stairway lies on the whispering wind?
And as we wind on down the road
Our shadows taller than our soul.
There walks a lady we all know
Who shines white light and wants to show
How everything still turns to gold.
And if you listen very hard
The tune will come to you at last.
When all are one and one is all
To be a rock and not to roll.
And she's buying a stairway to heaven.
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 6:22 PM UTC
Just being with you
leaves me speechless
I just want to be quiet
and listen to you for hours,
cuddling together side by side to
keep ourselves warm with our
heartbeats and slow breaths
I want to just take in our
soft silence, where there is
no questions asked
no words taken so serious
no explanations to reason
our way out of misgiven words
I just want to feel like the two of us
are the only ones in the world
and that would be okay
because all we need at that moment is
each other
- D.P.
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 12:59 AM UTC
An endeavour to grasp the ardent;
trying to sooth the seething, the fervent-
-ly glimmering stars cleaved and concised,
misgiven and juvenile; yet far hind-tarded:
"The fool burned trying; and the starlet free."
And here I recon; I concede-
readily and consequently,
in admiration; in recede:
captivated, inadvertently.
Smitten and bewitched; I'd stay,
expedient and unruly:
"My sight I have bargained; all for one seething spectacle."
With this I stray, unlighted and aphonic;
I leave my sentiment in silence.
Mar 18, 2018
Mar 18, 2018 at 9:21 PM UTC
The string on the kite spool is made of doll hair
Mincemeat pies
Someones trying to get my goat
It's the stutterer with a broken nose trying to read aloud
"Ch ch ch choo choo choose yo yo yo your battles"
"A a a and d d d don't le le le let any any any anyone fi fi fi ffff fight them for for for for you"
I'll give it to him, it must of taken a lot for him to muster up enough guts to do that
There was a sign the said "Canebreaks" do they mean sugarcane or a rattle snake? I'm not going to check it out both are bad for my health
Over on the other side of the park is a hot blooded swindler
He's selling provisions
Tiny morsels of food for outrageous prices
For anyone with a dormant and insatiable appetite and no concept of money
He's bound to find someone who will take him up on his offer sooner or later
Over in the crowd I hear someone asking people to join her in a hostile take over or was it a harsh take down? Either way no one was into it
I'm not too sure she was either come to think of it, probably blowing off some smoke
Under the gazebo I see kids taking something
I guess sweaty foreheads that sheen and quavering ligaments are just modern ingredients to coming of age
But is couch lock necessary?
Now I'm face to face with my fifth grade teacher
She's got tenure now
She's barefoot and has a dour look on her face
I can feel that she's tired of the same day in day out life she lives
But I guess there's no way of knowing for sure
Oh no, someones got a gun
There is always "That Guy"
Everyone runs, scatters
Moms pick up their children and run to their cars with their husbands right behind them
The drunks stumble, bumping into one another
Only when danger is near do you see how nimble and limber people can be
The gunman scales the chain link fence and fires of a few rounds and shouts, "I DON'T GIVE A **** IF THIS DOESN'T FIT THE ALLOTTED TIME SLOT!"
"ALL OUR CUMULATIVE SCORES ARE MISGIVEN AND THOSE WHO HAVE DESECRATED OUR VOWS WILL BE OVER TURNED!"
"IT'S A RACE TO THE OTHER SIDE AND IT'S FIRST TO THE FINISH!"
He put the nose of the gun to his face and pulled the trigger
His brains dangled on the chain link fence
Why did I have to over shoot the turn and wind up at this weird *** picnic/fair/festival/bloodbath thing?
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 1:14 PM UTC
I was listless,
but my fist still twisted,
fingertips gripped
with arthritic stiffness,
grasping for
a gift misgiven.
Spirits lifted,
so my heart skipped its—
yet hands still slipped
with a vicious quickness;
ripped a rift across,
swiftly drifted.
Ill-equipped to fix this
vertiginous abyss
from my precipice,
til obsidian black eclipses
even the lips
that kissed it;
beloved blisses
left amidst
empty wishes,
beyond the reach of wrists,
which shifted;
crippled by what exists—
a distance.
Jul 29, 2024
Jul 29, 2024 at 7:57 PM UTC
Save me a smile or two, please.
I filled the caverns of my eye sockets with spoonfuls of confectioners sugar.
Injected play dough into my veins and played with my pulse like silly putty.
Artificially flavored fluids collect in my lungs as I lie struggling to breathe around swollen nothings.
I still have eyelids flapping wildly in the wind over these several sweet mountaintops, only tips of the iceberg.
Bags of skin droop 'neath curlicue loopdiloop eyelashes, over and onto bloated cheeks inflated with forced happiness.
My tongue is swollen with misgiven wishes, protruding from crusty lips, overworked in an attempt to shape a beautiful reality.
Creamy caramel creeps from the corners of each belated blink.
My pores are pushing daisies up and out of my skin as they gush glowing-bright-white yellow-matter-custard, smelling of childhood memories.
Save me a smile.
Mar 22, 2015
Mar 22, 2015 at 1:41 PM UTC
My lungs are turning inside out again-
and this poem will be void of the use of I
because it is not known to me who that is anymore.
This heart is beating outside of my chest
and my eyes can not focus on one fixed point.
It is troubling to me
words cannot express how my body is handling this.
Situational irony has always been a good friend of mind
and my emotions are diminishing further and further inside of myself.
Repression is to what my mind is prone to.
Ever since the child in me grew roots
someone pulled them out as if they were weeds
so this person staring back at me in the mirror
has always been a figure unfamiliar.
Always someone who longs to go backwards
so she can feel the familiarity of childhood.
Instead she wears a face not her own
and a body who she has trouble looking at most days.
This week the discovery was made
that in order to purge herself of all of this negativity
some weight had to be lost-
seems she doesn't know what that feels like
she doesn't recognize what that looks like-
but she makes a direct correlation between
memories and loneliness.
These nights have been mistaken for sleep
and the dreams mistaken for reality.
It's no question that identity has always been misgiven.
She makes no sense of her poems
and these words she writes down like they're her last.
The shaky hands make it hard to type
and she doesn't last more than a second in self-assessing,
she knows all too well the deep cut of judgment
but clings to the idea of contrastiveness.
Hoping that comparisons will not be her downfall
and that these words somehow make sense.
Again is something she insists on typing
because repetition and consistency is what she longs for-
but it never seems to come from anything but her own mind
and a body that is too in tune with the chaos in her bones
she shakes too much, and feels nothing all at once.
Calamity and clarity are not words she knows the meaning of-
only catastrophe
she puts it on her shelf and is proud of how she ended up with it
worked too hard on the life of others
and no hard enough on herself
but she still sees it a prize.
Even if she's not the winner-
even if she doesn't reap the benefits.
Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 6:52 PM UTC
Love is like a breeze
It flows in and brings you to your knees
Anytime you try to stand
You sink like the ground is made of quicksand
Sinking, sinking, down you go
Into the place where the birds crow
A melancholy tune
When you start to swoon
But when you do,
You are put in the queue
For everlasting aches
Of which your heart shall break
When you find your love
It lifts you like a dove
Out of this place
Where there will be no embrace
If you find your mate
I hope you’ll remember,
That all of us are stuck here with no end of December
Forever cold
Forever told
The stories of our plights
That will give you frights
This is no place for the forgiven
Only the misgiven
For if you stumble here
You will known not to come near
Because of us
The world is thus
In turn, everyone finds their way to this world
And all is lost and all is hurled
Right out of mind with all pleasant thoughts
All your hopes are in tight knots
All bundled away, forever gone
Forever dawn
Waiting for the soul
To crawl out of this hole
Of despair and darkness
Of blankness and starkness
Nothing is well
All is ill and do not tell
Others of this hole
That sweeps them down and tears their hearts
So stay away from this place of ****
It is very sour
So stay far from this hour
Where all souls go at some point
To find their joint
To help them find
Something that will bind
Them to the waking world
And away from this furled
Dimension of lost souls
So stay away or fall into the hole
Of despair and traps for the emotions
Like many oceans
Drowning and thrashing
Splashing and crashing
Away from the lasting land
Away from the lasting hand
Held out to help
But instead lets out a yelp
And draws back in fright
Of the waves might
Forever lost
Forever tossed
Left and right through the waves
Everlasting graves
Of those who were trapped too long
And gave up, their hearts go along
To live free with their souls
That were lost forever in this deep dark hole…
Apr 28, 2021
Apr 28, 2021 at 1:37 PM UTC
Love is like a breeze
It flows in and brings you to your knees
Anytime you try to stand
You sink like the ground is made of quicksand
Sinking, sinking, down you go
Into the place where the birds crow
A melancholy tune
When you start to swoon
But when you do,
You are put in the queue
For everlasting aches
Of which your heart shall break
When you find your love
It lifts you like a dove
Out of this place
Where there will be no embrace
If you find your mate
I hope you’ll remember,
That all of us are stuck here with no end of December
Forever cold
Forever told
The stories of our plights
That will give you frights
This is no place for the forgiven
Only the misgiven
For if you stumble here
You will known not to come near
Because of us
The world is thus
In turn, everyone finds their way to this world
And all is lost and all is hurled
Right out of mind with all pleasant thoughts
All your hopes are in tight knots
All bundled away, forever gone
Forever dawn
Waiting for the soul
To crawl out of this hole
Of despair and darkness
Of blankness and starkness
Nothing is well
All is ill and do not tell
Others of this hole
That sweeps them down and tears their hearts
So stay away from this place of ****
It is very sour
So stay far from this hour
Where all souls go at some point
To find their joint
To help them find
Something that will bind
Them to the waking world
And away from this furled
Dimension of lost souls
So stay away or fall into the hole
Of despair and traps for the emotions
Like many oceans
Drowning and thrashing
Splashing and crashing
Away from the lasting land
Away from the lasting hand
Held out to help
But instead lets out a yelp
And draws back in fright
Of the waves might
Forever lost
Forever tossed
Left and right through the waves
Everlasting graves
Of those who were trapped too long
And gave up, their hearts go along
To live free with their souls
That were lost forever in this deep dark hole…
Apr 29, 2021
Apr 29, 2021 at 3:50 PM UTC