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Evan Stephens Nov 2017
The worries come
on the walk back,
melting together
like ice in the glass:
I'm missing something,
& what pieces remain
are broken,
& that I am never
in control of it.

The sidewalk is one shadow
on top of another,
on top of another,
all the way back.

No, you don't see a thing,
I'm contained,
a sarcophagus,
a remote satellite,
the flood is put away
as neatly as a magazine
on the newstand.

I make another oath,
to pry open the tomb,
to speak with a mouth
like a glen, to accept
that I am not my parents
nor the drift of their silence.

The sidewalk is one shadow
on top of another,
on top of another,
all the way back.
Mark Upright Aug 2017

write the scriptures,
the Book of Me,
with authorship
exposed on the books cover,
of every word have ever writ

flawed, ignored, rejected,
necessary to self-publish
upon the unpapered internet,
where words are ionized

I take an oath,
oath sworn upon mine own scripture,
testify before a jury of my peers,
me, myself and I

what you read,
is not imaginary,
I am real,
you are realizing

each of us has a truthful name,
in spite of acronymic disguises employed,
and wearing it,
here, upon this.....line dotted,
place my neck,
ready for
the executioner


October 24, 2015
7:20 am
ryn Jan 2015
. a fragile little thing,
     that most tend to overlook.
     Small word with a **** big meaning.
     Some may uphold it; some may
     conveniently have it mistook...

Trust... in the grasp of the unknown
     that helps you up when you've fallen

Trust... the pact between you and the cab
     as he takes you to where you want to
     be, across town.

     ...the bough on which your swing does
     Pray that it doesn't break as you enjoy
     its joyous ride.

     ...your cook, hoping in your food he
     doesn't spit...
     Especially when you've provided
     feedback that scuffed his pride.

     ...lays exposed when the keys to your
     house you surrender,
     to your neighbour who'd keep an eye
     while you're away on a retreat.

     ...exists latent in the open palm of your
     As a child you'd take his hand so he'd
     ferry you safely across the street.

Trust... the unspoken oath that I had thought
     we both held sacred...
     When I spilled the contents, my heart
     couldn't bear much longer.

     ...meant nothing when you took it all for
     when you weakened and succumbed...
     ...and then shared with another...
William Eberlein Feb 2013
Beneath the sun and moon,
twice have I fallen into love.
Many years past,
under an oath of breath,
I was bound to the first.
And on a promise of shadow,
later came the second
to steal my heart
with a rising crest.
And so you may name the loves of me.
Wife and Mistress.
Sky and Sea.
Tammy M Darby Nov 2013
He touched her with his big hands,
Kissed away the flow of tears
He offered his strength
She let the pain go.
He was the only one she could do this with

Rocking her gently
Pretending not to notice,
The quiet whimpering.
The muffled cries
Guarding her heart from all trespassers
While he stared into the night

He would never again allow sadness to befall her,
An oath he took to himself.
To the gods he prayed,
To protect her from harm
Pledging his soul
Any who dare try he would slay.
He is now and forever her protector,
She loved him,
Though some fear remained.

He was solid and hard as granite,
She was very dear to him,
His love.
His life.
Knowing of her sadness
He saw lines of violence
Written upon the small face

After a while the shadows disappeared,
From his beloved’s world
As he held her close, stroked her hair and sighed.
She was oh so very dear to him this damaged soul
His love,
His life.

This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Tammy M. Darby
CautiousRain Mar 2016
Dance with me and pay the price,
it's no big deal, the music's nice,
a twirl, a tap, why won't you glide?
I promise not to hurt your pride.

My heels click and stomp about,
your feet intact, without a doubt,
but something cracks, between us both,
a shattered, silent, bond-broken oath.

My smiles full of blind deceit,
your trust denied in fast defeat,
I've grown tired of this masquerade,
now you wish you hadn't stayed?

I can't believe you thought you'd be my match,
that we'd make it out without a scratch,
but jokes on you, and me too,
this was our final dance, so enjoy the view.
You thought you could dance with me, but we weren't even dancing to the same song. No wonder you walked all over me, we could never be in rhythm. We were never dancing the same steps.
Anastasia Oct 2018
Darkest days and Darkest nights
untold secrets will be unleashed tonight
I will keep it with all my might
just stay with me and hold me tight

My love how long will we keep
This I want to tell the world how much I love you
I can't sleep
without you by my side

the secret that we share
the oath of love
will never be broken
just stay with me my love
Nico Julleza May 2018
Dreary of a dark empty space,
The loneliness crowded,
Which somewhat I called—
"A Place Unwanted."
To them may it be madness:
A pretense of his unsuffering,
His mindful selfishness.
But not how I would label me.

To be covered in lunacy:
Lies coming from about,
Changing colors and theme,
Wading of goodness.
Their ways of hypocrisy.
I was a sea of countless woe,
To be brave but unsure.
Am I ever safe, if I never show?

The gaiety beyond avenue,
Through under glass I look.
The joy fits for most,
But not a dream to be oath.
Overtaking my inmost true,—
These things behind the sun.
What I should walk away from,
But it could never be done.
#Dark #Self #Sun #Unwanted #Insicurity

Sometime we are unwanted by the world, but there is always a place for you underneath all of it. This is one my dark poetry I made this year. Hope you enjoy the art of it.

(NCJ)POETRYProductions. ©2018
Hannah Zedaker Nov 2017
e v e r y
                      ­                                     Juxtaposed
V    a     c   a   n     t,
Traveler Mar 11
I am on a mission
An oath of heart and mind
I pledge to do the right things
Each and every time!

I'm sure I'll stumble
And I'll surely stagger
Doing what's right
Is no small matter

But if I fumble
And drop the ball
I’ll pick it back up
And heed the call

Give in? I refuse
Even if I lose
Doing what's right
Is what I'll choose
Traveler Tim
Eryri Feb 4
To say you are a Junior Doctor
Would be an understatement.
To say you are fit to practice
Would be irresponsible.
Your bedside manner
Leaves a lot to be desired.
You break your Hippocratic oath
At the drop of a hat.
You hand out prescriptions for Calpol
Like it's going out of fashion.
You tell me to take some pills
For the slighest of chills.
You take my temperature
And tell me I'm fine
When the reading says just 29.
When you check out my heart
You say it goes:
Ba-Boom Ba-Boom Ba-Boom Ba-Boom.
But I'll cut you some slack,
You may seem like a Quack,
But if I insist on a free medical
Then I shouldn't expect expertise
From a Doc aged just 3.
Monika Oct 2018
This day, I made an oath to the sky,
that ever lasts as time passes by.
A promise of love somewhat too sheer,
but full of hope, I've left all my fear.

For in morn's sun, her smile's so bright,
like her dark sparkled gown in the night.
In the days of clear, she melts my pain.
Or my sorrows washed with tears of rain.

I swear of a love so deep to her,
that my name, my self sooner weather.
To reward her grace, I am to give,
love beyond this life I have to live.
Data Sep 2018
There is a trace in my blood
A chancy ache at my core
It comes alive in the sound of pipe & drum, 
It pulses in my veins and swells
As the kilted marchers draw near,
Across the flat land they drill
Towards John o’ Groats and the sea,
Here in Caithness I hear them play
Across the flat feld from The Castle at Mey
Here where my people still stand ’til this day:
Donald son of John 
                     son of Donald
                            son of George…
From so long ago they come
On the beat of heart & drum,
From so long ago they reach
While I listen, remembering them:
Here first were the Picts at Cat
As the low branch dipped to earth,
Here come the men of the Norse
Now the bud on the branch is fat!
This is the tree that bears me
The river of life that takes me home,
Here is my kinship, fastened
In those Celt faces I’d never known,
And where my wellspring falls
As if from empty sky
From out that cloudy coalesce
Is the birth of I.
For all of them who come before
From that time done before the lore
Those men and maids who honoured oath
Have laid their lives at John o’ Groats,
So, pass the quaich, my kin
My blood salutes you all
I raise the water of life aloft
Thereon my fill begin.

By Data © Sept. 2018
My mother's maiden name was Calder.
So far, I have traced our family back to George Calder who was born in Dunnet, Caithness in 1729 - The short genealogy mentioned in this poem is a correct lineage.
Gary Brocks Aug 2018
He lifted his hand, it shook,
he leaned towards speech, halting,
a ****** confined his feet
to shuffled, prayerful, praises,
the day pushed dusk through blinds,

“How you buh, beautiful?” (a rasp).
“You take your meds?” the nurse said.
“How you… to… today?”, finger pointing
(reminded of it's hook).
She smiled and smoothed his bed
"You flirtin’, you bad man?”

Once he'd made a vow, an oath
in Auschwitz-Birkenau;
forced to pick gold from charred teeth,
he pledged to sidestep death, to live!
And, walk in love, to the Sabbath.

Copyright © 2003 Gary Brocks
jeffrey conyers Jul 2018
We all make pledges.
We all make vows.
Some just said, some very sincere.

Too you, I give my love.
My word I'll forever love you.
Too you, I give my heart forevermore.

Doctors take an oath.
Lawyers, do too.
So why shouldn't I take a forever pledge to solely love only you?

Too you, I swear to protect.
Put my life before yours if ever attack.
Yes, I  got your back.
Andrew Jun 2017
I'm such a hypocrite
I was adamant all that time
That I was a horse
And didn't want anybody to learn
When I formed wings
Guess that makes me a hippogryph
That's what made high school so difficult for me
I couldn't handle the new emotions
Guess it was my hippocampus
People had their own answers
Smoke some *** or ****
But my love was the size of a
I needed someone to promise they loved me
And would never hurt me
Guess that's a Hippocratic Oath
But how can I expect anybody to profess their love to me
When my trigger is stuck?
I need to throw a hip check on my life
And hip-hop away from this place
My feet are still
Hands on hips
I'm such a hypocrite
Grace E 5d
I decorate my black & white life
In red & blue lights
With an oath to uphold integrity
To balance wrong and right
I’m married to lady justice
My instincts, ready for the draw
I am a servant of the people
But I am also their law
Many people don’t give police men and women the respect they deserve. They see the worst parts of humanity every single day and one of their occupational hazards is not coming home to their family.. I appreciate their exsistence and respect what they do.
Gary Brocks Aug 2018
We marched to the words of "We Shall Overcome"
courting justice to walk by our side,
seared into memory with the heat of sun

brothers and sisters, arms linked one to one
beneath that day star's unblinking eye,
we marched to the words, "We Shall Overcome."

We swore an oath to forego the gun,
to carry only freedom's cry
beneath the impassive afternoon sun,

through bludgeon and cudgel one by one,
each truncheon summoning others to rise,
to join in the words "We Shall Overcome."

As we embraced, the marching done,
a crosshairs trained a ******’s eye
to wrench malice from the indifferent sun

to hew a path in blood and bone,
to rend flesh
                     and a rasping
                                              fatal sigh . . .
in the fading caress of the afternoon sun.

Beneath the eternal arc of the sun,
again we will muster side by side,
a sanctified chorus, whose song will be sung,
let our marching echo "We Shall Overcome.”

Copyright © 2018 Gary Brocks

Site of the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Thursday, 4 April 1968.

"We Shall Overcome”, an anthem, title and refrain, of the American Civil Rights Movement of the mid 20th century.
Terry O'Leary Feb 2014

Alone one night neath lantern light, I trudged a weary mile.
Forlorn, I went with shoulders bent (the storms around me howled)
until I met a Silhouette behind a sultry smile –
She gazed with eyes that mesmerize (Her body caped and cowled)
and stayed my way with question fey, ‘Why don’t you while awhile?’

Though timorous (with slow address and gestures pantomimed)
Her voice was gracing echoes chasing waves in evening’s tide.
The churchyard groaned, an ***** moaned, the bells of midnight chimed
while wanton winds awoke and dinned, and mistrals multiplied.
The Persian moon, like stray balloon, arose and blithely climbed.

The Silhouette (a pale brunette) arched eyebrows meant to please,
and down the lanes, on windowpanes, the shadows danced and sighed.
A meadowlark within the dark, somewhere behind the breeze,
ennobled Her with wisps of myrrh while deigning to confide
to nightingales veiled whispered tales of human vanities.

She doffed her cloak before She spoke with sighs of sorrow sung
(like mandolins, as night begins, when mourning day’s demise)
and spun Her tale of grim travail and tears She'd shed when young.
As jagged volts of thunderbolts lit up the dismal skies,
a velvet fog embraced a bog in coils of curling tongues.

Through summer vales and winter gales Her secret thoughts were voiced.
Midst storms so cruel (neath lightning’s jewel that glistered on the ridge)
She reminisced, She touched... we kissed... Her lips were wet and moist...
A lighthouse dimmed, while moonbeams skimmed across a distant bridge
to avenues where residues of shallow shades rejoiced.

                        HER TRAGIC TALE

“Midst sweet perfume of youthful bloom, the lonely spirit braves
and often cries and sometimes dies in quest of her amour.”

While starry-eyed, a ship I spied, a’ sail upon the waves –
the galleon docked, the gannets flocked, the Captain swept ashore
where, debonair with gypsy flair, he led his salty knaves.

In passing by, he caught my eye - I tried to hide a blush,
but ambiance of innocence left fervour’s flames revealed.
His gaze (defined by eyes that shined) beheld my cheek a’ flush.
I bowed my head while caution fled, I felt my fate was sealed
- a bird in spring with fledgling wing - he’d snared a  falling thrush.

He said ‘Hello’ - I answered ‘No’ and yet before he’d gone
said I, ‘I’ll wait at Heaven’s Gate not far beyond the Pale’.
At dusk he came neath moon aflame, and left before the dawn
just humming tunes between the dunes that lined the sandy trail
beside a pond where morning yawned, where swam an ebon swan.

We met again, and once again, and once again, again
entangled in a love called sin, in whirls of make-believe.
While in my arms, with voice that charms, said he ‘I must explain -
the tide awaits in distant straits and I must take my leave’.
Then tempests stormed as passions swarmed through ardor’s hurricane.

‘Forsake your home and we may roam’ he smiled as if to tease
and still naive, said I ‘I’ll leave, in silver buckled shoes’.
He took the helm in search of realms, and quickly quit the quays -
with tearful eyes, I bade goodbyes to fare-thee-well adieus
and sailed above a wave of love across the seven seas.

We swept one morn around Cape Thorne while bound for Bullion Bay.
With naught to reck, I strolled on deck, a baby at my breast,
while flurries blew and seagulls flew within the ocean’s spray.
Our ship soon moored, we went ashore and off to Fortune’s Quest -
with gold doubloons which shone like moons, he gambled through the day.

‘The deuce is wild’ he thinly smiled; another card was drawn -
he’d staked and raised with eyes half glazed, was dealt a dismal three.
With betting tight throughout the night, the final ace long gone,
meant all was lost, at what a cost; alas, the prize was me.
To my dismay he slunk away and left me doomed at dawn.

A buccaneer with ring in ear sneered ‘now, my dear, you’re mine’.
He held my wrists to thwart my fists and then... my honor stained.
On sullied swash, the sky awash with bitter tears of brine,
I broke his clutch with nothing much of me that still remained:
a residue when he was through, left clinging to a vine.

In morning dew, the good folk knew, and spurned me in my plight.
The preacher man pronounced a ban and wouldn’t condescend,
ignored my pleas on bended knees and prayers by candlelight.
While cast aside, my baby died... my world was at an end.
Until this day, I’ve made my way beneath the shades of night.

                        AT HEAVEN’S GATES

To set Her free from destiny was far from my design,
but, though unplanned, I touched Her hand to give Her peace of mind.
She told me then, and then again, that providence Divine
had cast a curse, and even worse: despised by all mankind,
She walked alone, unseen, unknown, Her soul incarnadine.

To break this spell of living ****, of loneliness enshrined,
and end Her days within the haze, a sole redeeming deed
would give reprieve and maybe leave our destinies entwined -
Her final quest be put to rest if only I agreed,
but no surcease nor perfect peace nor hope if I declined.

The shadows, shawled in silence, crawled, the night Her fate was sealed
as vespers tolled across the wold beneath the muted fog.
The heavens cracked and sorrow slacked as chimes of children pealed
while in the hills (where midnight chills) there wailed a daemon dog -
with no delay I lead the way, the path to Potter’s Field.

Her weathered face was lined with Grace, Her eyes shone emerald green.
With me as guide She stepped inside to grieve and mourn Her loss,
and thereupon, though pale and wan, the night took on a sheen.
With weary eyes as Her disguise, She placed a wooden cross
upon a mound (unhallowed ground) and whispered ‘Sibylline...’.

A falling star flared in the far and burst, a bolide flame -
beneath the light, the Final Rite no longer hid undone.
And kneeling there in silent prayer, we seemed to share the shame
but could atone if left alone, forevermore as one.
Before we both could breathe an oath, I asked Her once Her name.

Through lips, pale red, She simply said ‘Some called me Abigail’,
and neath a birch where white doves perch, I took Her for my bride,
beheld Her smile a little while, but all to no avail...
Her cloak and cape, and shrivelled shape lie empty at my side...
for now She waits at Heaven’s Gates, not far beyond the Pale.
Dr Baljit Singh Nov 2018
Let the plant grow
It is receiving its nourishment
Some tropical
Some require minimum water
We discriminate indiscriminately.

Those born to serve,
Their oath is a process
They're doing natural abilities
They have nothing to forgo.

I became proud
You grow above growth
I am stating a scenario

Dr Baljit Singh
Monday 19th November 2018

A lively debate
that inside I create
A seemingly
simple state
But this state
of affairs
Is like a ****** affair
The details
I wish not to share
don’t stare
For inside
I’m scared
Am I prepared?
Do I have
the ***** to do
what I really care?
Or am I going
to stay on this ship
of self-despair
I can scream
my lungs ******
into the air
But does anyone care?
Do I even f@cking care??

Maybe a life spared
but spare me the
retched bullsh@t

of self-pity
I’m self-giving
It wreaks up the air
It’s noxious scent
is not one I care
to ever encounter
or fair

Let’s “clear the air”
and take on
what I want
from now on
No longer a ****
who is living the tired
of some pathetic
love song

is my “Swan Song”
Where I belong
This sh@t is ON!

Climbing the mountain strong
Bellowing a chant
a song
That’s been so deep within
for so long
It can only come out
Because “wrong”
does not belong
This virus
is airborne

No longer forlorn
All the darkness
is gone
You have been
Are you ready?
Because it’s coming
Sounding the horn
the firstborn
The “storm”
Once icy and cold
Now simmering warm
Going to bubble into
volcanic ash scorned
This Oath
hath been sworn
Tattered and torn
**** cloth
all that is worn

But forward my path
What’s behind me
My ***
The past
Worn out,
and shriveling trash

All that
is gone
as I head
towards the dawn
Through the darkness
I’ve trekked
The Sun rises ahead
And with it
My song

My Swan Song
I am reborn
withered and worn
But still strong
I belong
I am one
with the Universe

The path before me
is brightly lit
with happiness and joy
No more patheticness
All the grit
and the spit
Broken teeth
All that sh@t
It all meant something
It was THIS

Every bruise
Every brake
All the “wrongs”
and “mistakes”

Are what it takes
You can call it fate
or simply short of fatal
but since
through this day till
Every day
I thankfully say
“Thank you”
for showing me the way
Because now I have
A love that stays
A true love
One that can’t
get away
Because I value Me
One ‘hopes’ or ‘prays’
But like a house
Each brick is laid
Onto the next
Foundation made
A sturdy house
Can’t blow away
Hard work put in
Made it this way
The same for me
The price I paid
But end result
A saving grace
Written: December 6, 2018

All rights reserved.
I made an oath,
While being between life and death
When I was left ghastly choice
Surrendered nothing but grimace
In the kingdom of three-wise-men
All of a sudden,
I found one among the right path
Then I was on the other side
I swore the truth but nothing less
I never felt such crossed between the lines
But I paved a way to a vicious lies
I was scared for trespassing the word of God
Cruelly I decided on the base of no ground
I shall receive a trial for what I have done
Even though how foolish it must be to acquiesce,
For the one who could see; for those who should see?
After all that I have been through,
I lost control and fainted on the dusty ground
Everything happened for good;
All my pain gone away and healed forever hatred
A miracle done for me; all that I have ever asked
Yes, my life is spared
Almighty God answered all of my thoughtful prayer
Thinking I will never ask again and ever
In the meantime,
I vowed sincerely to further distant cause
While thousands of critical problems right close to my nose
I made enough bluff, all the night turned **** but puff
And the day became tough and rough for some stuff
The whole week turns up-side down
I am still a grown man but stubborn
A man who enjoys life to the fullest
Just like a *******
I must be a nitwit.
Expect the unexpected! because strange things always happens in our lives, one of which, what do i call this?.
Lou Jul 2017
At the Zoo

Patriots and faux exhibit and binge on synonyms of liberty printed on beer and underwear
Advertising what should be unspoken and inspired to pervert and romanticize
Preludes to the parades and finale above us all
Weeks of saturated irony
Cuckoo bird irony and BBQ
As they reform Phoenix, rebirth of distractions and thievery
Predators in ally ways pursing America's diamonds and legs

Then gunpowder
Gunpowder of colors and cuckoos
Layers of streets in gunpowder
Towns built of gunpowder
Sky is gunpowder
We are born addicted to led and gunpowder
Gunpowder ****** in the air
Success, display and diversion and more gunpowder to ingest.

The Grand Finale
The Volta of the evening
The hammer of the judge
*** appeal of death and nature flexing it's muscles-  
show us some skin!

Covering your ears
Eyes fastened-
Ready to burrow back to mothers ****
Binged and free
Chinese celebration hijacked
Red, White and Blue
And a moment of silence  

Orchestrated onomatopoeia in heaven
Chorus of arousal on Earth
Band marching war machines in ****

The showdown of 241 years!
This freedom we are all grateful to only talk about

Only free to battle shackling intoxication
Men and women tugging extra weighted offspring
Sulking for indoors and portable addiction  
Chanting three letter obedience
God being counted by his blessings
Fear and Statism in every breathe for salvation from our stick swatted enemies
Checkpoints that serve and protect asking for a toll;
liberty synonyms.
Arresting the too free

At the Zoo,

The cuckoos regaining reality.
The phoenix red eye and held under oath
To the next day where we are back
To hate each others freedom, again.
Written on the 4th of July.
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