"ope" poems
Adieu, farewell earth’s bliss!
This world uncertain is:
Fond are life’s lustful joys,
Death proves them all but toys.
None from his darts can fly;
I am sick, I must die—
Lord, have mercy on us!
Rich men, trust not in wealth,
Gold cannot buy you health;
Physic himself must fade;
All things to end are made;
The plague full swift goes by;
I am sick, I must die—
Lord, have mercy on us!
Beauty is but a flower
Which wrinkles will devour;
Brightness falls from the air;
Queens have died young and fair;
Dust hath closed Helen’s eye;
I am sick, I must die—
Lord, have mercy on us!
Strength stoops unto the grave,
Worms feed on Hector brave;
Swords may not fight with fate;
Earth still holds ope her gate;
Come, come! the bells do cry;
I am sick, I must die—
Lord, have mercy on us!
Wit with his wantonness
Tasteth death’s bitterness;
Hell’s executioner
Hath no ears for to hear
What vain art can reply;
I am sick, I must die—
Lord, have mercy on us!
Haste therefore each degree
To welcome destiny;
Heaven is our heritage,
Earth but a player’s stage.
Mount we unto the sky;
I am sick, I must die—
Lord, have mercy on us!
6.2k
A hiss of the moon tucking
into just a pair of lock
let alone in pavilion-tresses
on the back of one's eternal silence.
Giving autumn shadows
to seven skies' azure.
What now the stars are gone
followed in their countless galore!
Eyes of the buds ope
dreaming nightingale
hops up to the morning rose
singing in what a balmy fold.
Mar 17, 2022
Mar 17, 2022 at 11:15 PM UTC
Hark! hark! the lark at heaven’s gate sings,
And Phoebus ‘gins arise,
His steeds to water at those springs
On chaliced flowers that lies;
And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes:
With everything that pretty bin,
My lady sweet, arise!
Arise, arise!
3.8k
I.
I would not if I could undo my past,
Tho' for its sake my future is a blank;
My past for which I have myself to thank,
For all its faults and follies first and last.
I would not cast anew the lot once cast,
Or launch a second ship for one that sank,
Or drug with sweets the bitterness I drank,
Or break by feasting my perpetual fast.
I would not if I could: for much more dear
Is one remembrance than a hundred joys,
More than a thousand hopes in jubilee;
Dearer the music of one tearful voice
That unforgotten calls and calls to me,
"Follow me here, rise up, and follow here."
II.
What seekest thou, far in the unknown land?
In hope I follow joy gone on before;
In hope and fear persistent more and more,
As the dry desert lengthens out its sand.
Whilst day and night I carry in my hand
The golden key to ope the golden door
Of golden home; yet mine eye weepeth sore,
For long the journey is that makes no stand.
And who is this that veiled doth walk with thee?
Lo, this is Love that walketh at my right;
One exile holds us both, and we are bound
To selfsame home-joys in the land of light.
Weeping thou walkest with him; weepeth he?--
Some sobbing weep, some weep and make no sound.
III.
A dimness of a glory glimmers here
Thro' veils and distance from the space remote,
A faintest far vibration of a note
Reaches to us and seems to bring us near;
Causing our face to glow with braver cheer,
Making the serried mist to stand afloat,
Subduing languor with an antidote,
And strengthening love almost to cast out fear:
Till for one moment golden city walls
Rise looming on us, golden walls of home,
Light of our eyes until the darkness falls;
Then thro' the outer darkness burdensome
I hear again the tender voice that calls,
"Follow me hither, follow, rise, and come."
3.6k
At the last, tenderly,
From the walls of the powerful, fortress’d house,
From the clasp of the knitted locks—from the keep of the well-closed doors,
Let me be wafted.
Let me glide noiselessly forth;
With the key of softness unlock the locks—with a whisper
Set ope the doors, O soul!
Tenderly! be not impatient!
(Strong is your hold, O mortal flesh!
Strong is your hold, O love!)
3.1k
**** jy die **** van yster-gordyn wat val en die aarde omhels ten laaste sy afwaartse versnelling.
Dit maak seer mamma...
Gewere word neergelê as ń universiële teken van hoop en vrede , maar verlang na ń lid van die geledere.
Dit maak seer mamma...
Ons was almal naïef; in ons drome was daar plek vir twee,
Ń eindelose see waar ons kon wegvaar van die ontbindinde spoke van gister, waar ons ons hande in soutwater-poele kon was iewers langs die kus van versoening...
Dit maak seer...
Niemand sou kon raai dat die jare se snellertrek en loopgraaf grawwe jou eens sagte vel kon magnetiseer nie... *** kon ek voorsien dat jy ń bietjie van die geweld gaan steel het om vir jouself te hou nie. *** sou ek weet dat jou vingers jeuk sonder die dooie staal wat dit streel nie...
Een skoot
Twee skote
Drie skote
Ń eenman vuurpelaton reën op my neer en dring deur my ope arms...
Jy het nog altyd ń plek in my hart gehad, maar nou het jy dit beset met lood en alle onskuld uitgerook met brandende kruit...
Dit maak seer...
Dele van jou hang nog swaar op al die plekke wat saakmaak en seermaak en trek my af grond toe...
Eina...
Liefde ek het altyd geweet ons het mekaar se ruë gehad... ek hey net nie geweet jy was besig om ń rooi kruis vir jou fissier op myne te verf nie...
Dit maak seer mamma...
Koebaai
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 5:48 PM UTC
Die fluister van my hart...
Ek raak stil en luister *** fluister my hart.
Die liggiese geklop in my keel maak my bly oor die lewe wat ek voel. Myne praat van die ope lug so blou, ek hou dit vas, en van die wind wat vry waai sonder om toestemming hoef te vra.
Van die son wat vroeg oggend goud op kom met die begin van nog n nuwe dag, wat warm bak teen jou rug as jy dit die minste verwag.
Van harde hande werk in die kombuis na die tuin wat vra vir bietjie liefde en gesels.
So is die lewe vol lewe, vol kere vir lekker lag.
Ja dit gee mens krag om die mooi te sien, in elke dag. 2016-11-28
Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 1:19 AM UTC
In ancient times long long ago,
when Ptolemy looked up into the firmament-
with wonder and amaze, to see the heavens glowing there-
he little knew of how the Gods did sport and play!
When Cassiopeia ope'd her ***** and let forth her music in the heavens, with joy the stars did dance and planets in their fundament strove to eclipse each other vying with all their might to illuminate-the heavens more bright with their ethereal light and splendor.
Andromeda began to dance, then Sirius and Betelgeuse,
Virgo too with Capricorn- Herculese and Aquila-Regulus with Ursa minor, all the planets danced but one,
and that with angry stance, refused to join the dance,
Mars with red countenance stood aloof feigning reproof,
Look carefully, and you will see,
the stars still dance for you and me.
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 11:08 AM UTC
Woman born with a
Hope filled soul
Openly emotional and
Individually complex
Atypically childless yet,
Mother to man.
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 8:11 PM UTC
I tell my secret? No indeed, not I:
Perhaps some day, who knows?
But not to-day; it froze, and blows, and snows,
And you're too curious: fie!
You want to hear it? well:
Only, my secret's mine, and I won't tell.
Or, after all, perhaps there's none:
Suppose there is no secret after all,
But only just my fun.
To-day's a nipping day, a biting day;
In which one wants a shawl,
A veil, a cloak, and other wraps:
I cannot ope to every one who taps,
And let the draughts come whistling through my hall;
Come bounding and surrounding me,
Come buffeting, astounding me,
Nipping and clipping through my wraps and all.
I wear my mask for warmth: who ever shows
His nose to Russian snows
To be pecked at by every wind that blows?
You would not peck? I thank you for good-will,
Believe, but leave that truth untested still.
Spring's an expansive time: yet I don't trust
March with its peck of dust,
Nor April with its rainbow-crowned brief showers,
Nor even May, whose flowers
One frost may wither through the sunless hours.
Perhaps some languid summer day,
When drowsy birds sing less and less,
And golden fruit is ripening to excess,
If there's not too much sun nor too much cloud,
And the warm wind is neither still nor loud,
Perhaps my secret I may say,
Or you may guess.
2k
Put down the taco. Eyes close. Then - Zooooooooooooooooooooooooommmmmm!
My body at this point - already melted into the chair - head whirling cold - loozing touch hehe
Oh! Don’t leave without saying goodbye! - I said this to the infinitely expanding black void that-
“I’ll be back. I have to unlock the final triforce. It is locked behind a backlit Pluto.”
Clearly we were in a Mexican restaurant
But
The gods were clearly on his side with that pink **** and all so this chromium dude was on to
something - ope! My powers disappeared! I guess my time is up in heaven.
Dec 31, 2022
Dec 31, 2022 at 11:26 PM UTC
tell me you believe in ghosts s
o i know who to believe / when
the time comes to ****** / all o
ver the ghost of your face / i pr
omise i won't forget to lie / and t
ell you that i love you / *i cann
*ot love you / because it is typical
to fear love when the chest is ope
n / the treasure found / and you l
ie dying with your heart still beati
ng in the October nightlife / believe
me when i tell you i wanted nothin
g / but
guts
Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 11:24 PM UTC
As two whose love, first foolish, widening scope,
Knows suddenly, with music high and soft,
The Holy of holies; who because they scoff’d
Are now amazed with shame, nor dare to cope
With the whole truth aloud, lest heaven should ope;
Yet, at their meetings, laugh not as they
In speech; nor speak, at length; but sitting oft
Together, within hopeless sight of hope
For hours are silent:—So it happeneth
When Work and Will awake too late, to gaze
After their life sailed by, and hold their breath.
Ah! who shall dare to search through what sad maze
Thenceforth their incommunicable ways
Follow the desultory feet of Death?
1.3k
Back to the beginning
And back to the start. Let's
Change our future and raise our
Kids right!
Time to stop robbing banks and
Others; stop being racist, sexist, or whatever
Everyone--STOP! We are the same,
All on the inside. Doesn't
Really matter the color, *** who we love- we are all
The same-human beings-mammals-
Hope that helps-if not, we are like M&Ms; fighting over your favorite color only to realize they're all chocolate on the inside.
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 10:41 AM UTC
Anybody literate can read and write.
But do they understand?
Can they see and feel the deeper meaning?
Do they hear the poets words?
Emote along with the writer?
Find a chord striking them within?
Gasp at the beauty in the imagery?
Hold their breath as the poet weaves magic?
Inhale the scent of sweat the poet gave?
Jump at the twists and turns?
Keen to learn the ending?
Laugh and cry along with the poet's words?
Mope at the end?
Not wanting to let the words go?
Opining their views, not the poet's.
Positing assumptions not the poet's.
Querying imagery, syntax, metaphors and similes.
Robbing the joy from the poet by making grand assumptions.
Seeking to emulate the greats, and join the canon.
Taking what they need from the words written down.
Utilising the poem as a learning tool.
Venerating the poet and their work.
Words speaking to them from afar.
Xanthic coloured complexions, as they read into the night.
Yanking at the pages of the book.
Zealously impassioned by the poet's conclusion.
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 7:00 PM UTC
Eye hav a higgoramous, shee tort me orl I knoe
Sheez a clevar Higgoramous az Higorrami goe
Shee tort me orl mi spelin and wen eye pik mi no’s
Ter wypit on der carpit knot rubbit on mi close
Sum peepul saye herz higgorrunt an saye dat shee iz fik
I ate dem orrid peepul dey reely mayk mee sik
I ope dat shee gitz pregerant an az a littel cubb
Eye’ll fead er lotz of kandie an uthar luvly grubb
Eye’ll elp er mummie baff er eye’ll chainge er durty nappie
Shee’ll bee soe qoot an cudelsum shee’l mayk mee viry appy
An wen der cubb gitz biggar shee’ll plae wiv mee an kis
An evariwun wil real eyes dat higgoramous’s iz bliss :-)
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 8:11 PM UTC
A chest of boardwalk
and nails unscrewed,
an arsenal of rusty
marching faceless
graffiti, musty
multi-eyed designs and grinning
tiny men right beside,
with lips rose-pearl, sharp-end.
Right beside small carriages to lend.
Wall art wiping off like a fresh tan
once winter comes, scrubbed
with air-carried sea salt,
reabsorbed into brickish mortar and tin-ringing
structures that overlook sweezshing shoals;
dough-rolled hats kneaded on shake-grain shores.
This is where the wolf pup goes
after it snatches the children of my wide-eyed games,
figments of nativity babies
and their red-cheeked discord.
Wailing betrayal
in a swaddling maw,
Vanishing into these walls,
and like that, more pinched-lipped mini-men
lull this predicament into a then-ling
ceased, ignored as the child-pile
rises in the wolf's den.
The umpteenth hour:
i flip through old calendars and
fill in the boxes of dates and
reassemble daily fates
in my head with pink marker
tracing my palmsandpickingupsomethingwhatisthat—
oh.
just child #62
all plump and fat
growing in my throat,
rapidly birthed
with a nasty cough.
spit in my lungs.
and she cries
and then it's novoctuary (or just june)
and the paws claw kindly, schlep-ripping
my featureless form like knocking at a door,
and this is the departure
of my never-was newborn.
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 8:53 PM UTC
..add to that, "sleeping is a luxury; eating a privilege"...by MY definition.
(sonnet #MMMMMMMCMLXXXVI)
Does coffee ever wake aught soul fr'intents?
Or do we merely welcome in betrayl
Caffeine's ole kick-start to the morning's hale
Note it is time to put off sleep? Dad's sense
Of it I canna say, 'cept he'd swear thence
Twas to be lo, "enjoyed." not quaffed t'avail
The soul like medicine, no. That detail
Could praps suffice, yet I'm confused still. Whence?
And oh, tea does not mix with joe. Tis poor
On both sides if you drink them both, each brew
No complement to th'other, as it were.
Yes, laugh at me. Now "independent" two
Weeks running--sip tea first, to savour fer
All that what'd ope mine eyes; then joe's weak. You?
24May19b
May 25, 2019
May 25, 2019 at 11:46 PM UTC
Shalt I sing a song for thee?
To maketh thee feeleth like heaven
shalt I maketh the world quite quaint for thee
To sense thee the serenity!
Oh divine soul!
Thee art an angel on the earth.
I knoweth no lovely verses.
Spread thy wings in the ope sky
Its for thee. For thee to fly!
Quite quaint moon in the silent night
Its for thee for dreams of thy eyes!
Adorable and greatest worth
Oh divine soul
Thee art an angel on earth.
Most precious is thy smileth
I'd capture still to liveth mine life.
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 12:13 AM UTC
YOU LIVE YOU LEARN YOU MAKE MISTAKES. YOU LEARN YOU OPE YOU MAKE DIFFERENT MISTAKES. SO YOU LEARN AND YOU LEAN BUT JUST TO EN UP MAKING THE SAME MSTAKES YOU THOUGH YOU LEARNED FROM AND PUT BEHIND YOU. YOU HOPE , YOU CRY, YOU LIVE, YOU LOVE, YOU HOPE, YOU PRAY. YOU END UP IN A PLACE THAT IS TAKING YOU NO WHERE. WHEN WILL YOU LEARN WHEN YOU CANT LEARN FROM THAT MISTAKE ANYMORE. I KNOW I NEED TO WAKE UP AND REALIZE WHAT I NEED TO LEARM FROM THIS MISTAKE AND NOT DO IT AGAIN. WHEN YOUR YOUNG AND YOU DONT WANT A MAN IN YOUR LIFE. TO MESS UP THE BALANCE YOUVE CREATED IN YOUR LIFE. AND YOU TAKE THAT CHANCE ANYWAY. YOU WOULD THINK YOU WOULD HAVE LEARNED ONE HECK OF A LESSON. BUT IT TAKES TWICE OR MORE TO LEARN THAT LESSON. I HOPE I LEARN IT SOON.
THE END.
Mar 31, 2012
Mar 31, 2012 at 12:40 AM UTC
Tomorrow's another day, another ful of
Hope. Another day to share love, show kindness
In this world there's too much hate--we need to
Spread love and kindness and
Show our children that we're in this together!
Our world needs us; we
Need our world!
Gather everyone you love and
Share Kindness.
And listen to music!! All different
Varieties of music---
Every kind-- MUSIC is LIFE!
Doing good, showing kindness, and
Much more is what we need in this world.
Yesterday is just a day
Longing to bring peace to this world.
In life, it's to short to worry and
Forever is so for a way, just breathe
Everyday and show love!
Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 11:17 PM UTC
ope n al l t h e smal lt hin gs (between)
th ei rmiddle s i swri th e ge n tl y
m yst er y (that which tiny wanders
awe) brigh tfast bl indl ingly w i t h e r s
faceshands
into dust stumbling minutely though
g r a s p in ga nd b i t i n g
so open all the small things (boys and
girls open them they have empty which
like you have and faster more colorful
nothing they) s o
open all the small things boysandgirls
spilling from them running rivers of
poppies splayed out in raw pallid eve
rushing through cambered fragility
(that instantly with precise mess flair
with the curving orange of death )
Nov 8, 2012
Nov 8, 2012 at 12:22 AM UTC
Ek raak van tyd tot tyd verlore
in die vlaktes van my verbeelding
op 'n eindelose reiktog
na die goue uitloopsels van more
, ander kere skuil ek in die klowe
en trek my toe in n berg kombers...
daar kan ek skree
- en huil
-en lag.
Daar kan ek die eie self
in n lastergil uitlok en wag
vir die koue kras kranse
om dit terug te werp in my ope arms.
My verbeeldingshuis le in die kranse...
my drome rol in oor die see se soutwater golwe...
en ek, ek le iewers in die middel
van perfekte harmonie
en absolute chaos.
Ek . droom . eindeloos...
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 4:42 PM UTC
Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,
And Phoebus 'gins arise,
His steeds to water at those springs
On chaliced flowers that lies;
And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes:
With every thing that pretty is,
My lady, sweet, arise!
Arise, arise!
William Shakespeare
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 12:25 AM UTC