"orison" poems
Ophelia...smote egress, you are Rimbaud's:
"Drunken Boat".
The river you fell asleep upon found you a sea.
Your bones knew no seabed--poppies, marigolds,
orchids, black roses fill your eye sockets, mouth and rib cage.
You substantiate what color the sea may give your lay.
Its foamy waddle has signaled you to one too many
climes...an orison broke open.
What strain of tragedy now holds you, spine on depth,
eye sockets on sky?
You dove headlong into the Shakespearean maelstrom--
where mortal coil confounds, chin-up darling.
Great winds fish-scale your waters, only to invert their maw.
There are lines daily of sea's breadth, whereupon its
creatures come single file to kiss your bone.
Ophelia...wrested from river to sanguine sea, shedding trails
of flesh.
If bones were the eye of a needle...you've pulled through,
heir to tragedy--circumnavigating your infamy.
Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 10:25 AM UTC
Help me to be the Healer’s hand,
The words that mend,
A needed friend.
Help me to quell what pain I might
And in the darkness
Be a light.
Though anguish bars the path before,
Help me to open up the door.
If I can aid a soul today
I will have done enough to say,
Their broken heart,
My hands restored
This peace enough,
My great reward.
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 12:13 AM UTC
The reasons I pray are much larger
Than self.
I'm ignoring my pain, my debt and
My health.
I don't drop to my knees or clench my
Eyes tight.
I just open my soul and forget all
My fright.
I don't get the chills. I don't hear
Any sounds.
I don't feel the angels fixing
My frown.
I don't see the lights. I don't hear a
Harp playing.
But I do know God hears what
I'm saying.
I'm free of my pleasures, temptations
And such.
I'm not waiting for choirs or a
Healing touch.
I really have no goals when I'm
Praying besides,
To be free from the selfishness of
My mind.
Dec 12, 2017
Dec 12, 2017 at 7:26 PM UTC
My arrival be somber farewell,
In jazzy silence, my essence await.
Lo, sail for the rising horizon!
Sunlit glory marks my precarious path.
An eerie dawn heralds my journey.
Behind wispy clouds lie hidden stars.
Burning minds under siege from rain,
Where art my refuge... a warm embrace?
____________________________________________
Subterranean, its my exeunt.
Beyond the fog lies fresh adventure.
Shackle my pride, envy, ignorance,
Marvelous wonder upon colossal peaks.
Brazen meadows shimmer under solar scrutiny.
Foreshadowed by towering nobility,
A morning hue bathe the sylvan valley,
An idyllic breeze ruffle my hair.
____________________________________________
Dreams of avarice,
Coveting all property.
Faster and faster,
More and more, eternal.
Liberty for people,
Nay, for the few.
Aristocracy!
Ruling class rules... to sin.
____________________________________________
I am falling toward the sky.
Instantly mesmerized by your bright eyes.
Feelings of perfection corrodes all my might.
Your light caught me by surprise.
Our paths crossed as the planets aligned.
Our eyes meet, you make me feel the vibe.
I wonder if you are so inclined.
Terrified, I just want to make it out alive.
Aug 28, 2010
Aug 28, 2010 at 5:16 AM UTC
A Young ghost had grown old,
Her memory I ferried for Lethe.
Enervating knees fell in orison
Upon the samphire, married.
There I drank in dizzy stupor;
This is the quiet of my release.
Feb 6, 2022
Feb 6, 2022 at 1:08 AM UTC
When thinking about backgammon and playing the game,
It makes me feel kinds dead like rigomortis , being lame,
I don’t mean to deluge info with a flood of knowledge to you,
But my brain is a globular cluster with knowledge you never knew.
Now ill give you an orison a hope for a great day,
So you can make it over the skybridge in one piece but not one way,
But enough about the future I know you have chronomentrophia,
But who cares tomorrow is Guy Fawkes day so live in your own utopia!
Oct 25, 2011
Oct 25, 2011 at 11:11 AM UTC
The driven accent of
The orison which
Suffering seraphim cajole
Yields to time and
Time is period
Till judgement breaks
And those lyrics remit
A weeping invocation of
Eternities requiem
Fore all beauty is a
Mirage to sordid souls
And graces respite is
Found in paradise;
O' death- the master juror
Resounding the short-shrift of
Heavens immortal scripture
Amidst earthly violence
Singing humanities
Everlasting hymn.
ELEETE J MUIR
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 10:58 PM UTC
In dreams of the twilight rain
I've dreamt the orbs the angels ringed
Around the awakening of life and pain
Which hath me broken-winged.
The sound of the clashing swords
Echo in the orison I've prayed
With the chiding of silent words
Telling back at the Past I made.
Those holy angels- angels' beauty,
When all of the heaven
Melody luted a song with the fruity
Stars sparkling the Levin
To which cause the sun to kiss the moon
With angels and daemons caressing,
As to where saying 'Amen' will real soon
Hath the Omens' shadows compressing...
Jun 19, 2011
Jun 19, 2011 at 9:51 AM UTC
it repeats in my head like a
mantra or a desperate prayer,
hands clasped tight over a
crucifix necklace. but i cant envision
myself praying just to god, i am so
desperate at this point i am yelling
my invocations to any force that will
listen and my eyes are shut tight like
a little girl wishing for time to
slow down, reciting
*"please dont get sick of me please
dont get sick of me
please dont get sick of me"* and i
am never sure of what happens when
i open my eyes and i am terrified to
unfold my palms as if someone will
catch me by my wrists and hit my hands
with a ruler and assume i have ever wanted
anything this bad before in my whole life
Mar 29, 2017
Mar 29, 2017 at 9:09 PM UTC
A summer evening in late June, light paling into dusk and colours lessen
Rattles from the kitchen as the ritual teas are prepared
I sit making a cardigan for a baby’s birth-
Knowing what it is to be a mother, I think of she who will carefully fasten the buttons
She who will, like me, cry at the news nowadays and lay her hands on a softly breathing body to find peace
Here I sit, fingers hitching and flicking the yarn between needles
Knitting is a kind of prayer
Each stitch a supplication. Each turn a fresh appeal:
Let this mother meet her baby.
Let this mother meet herself, arriving
The prayer grows, row by row
This mothering is an unhealable wound
This mothering is a cardigan, made to fasten.
Aug 16, 2022
Aug 16, 2022 at 4:59 PM UTC
the stars
align
in celestial
matrimony
her eyes
twinkle
with the
light
of a
million moons
day
breaks
the heavens
impart
their wisdom
of
illumination
and
the stars
align
once
more
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 1:36 PM UTC
"Indifference"
Heed the deafening litanies of my plague that dwells inside
Answer me with a distorted lament, spit on my vain insistence
I still wait for your deluge of knives lave and drown my maladies
Fire, rain down and fill my lungs with such an addictive agony
All I'm suffering, just to watch your wings and feathers storm my heavens
Look down on me once again and deny my existence
Goad me to be on my knees, fire rain down and bury away my repentance
An aureole crowned dove will never hear my orison
Zion is you, and it's a myth for a bleeding heretic such as me
Answer my cursed prayers with your name, where my every verse begins
Aug 13, 2017
Aug 13, 2017 at 8:37 AM UTC
Along the Isis; down the Cam,
the brightest minds have not displayed
solutions that are worth a tinker’s ****
deserving of an accolade.
How like the fates to cruelly take
the nectar of the sweetest flower;
to steal its fragrance and thereby to make
a nonsense of her latest hour.
The footpaths that she bravely trod
reflect the beauty of her life.
The countryside alas now sadly flawed,
by memories now sadly rife.
Late misted fields now sunset flushed
beneath the spread of every tree;
the golden corn now waiting to be crushed
from Shillingford to Maddingley.
Oct 5, 2017
Oct 5, 2017 at 5:14 AM UTC
I move, swiftly, out of pace
The room shifting
I am forgetting all about this place
Before I leave
Making sure
I will never come back to go through that door
Stomach knots when I clasp the handle
Rotate a 90 degrees
My feet heavy, my heart thumping, I freeze
Memories wafting through the opened crack
Curling around my face like an unwanted and unpleasant breeze
I freeze
Orison, a swarm succumbing to a feverish itch
Scratched it to catch it going nowhere above my head
Here in this white and grey pastel hallway
History’s hand comes down heavy handed
Clamps itself around my throat
It won’t let go until I let go
And I can’t let go of these maddening picture shows
Black around my cavernous eyes
Peer inside, glacial stalactites and dust mites
The heart commanding what my hand ghostwrites
As murmurs and noise and lights
Omnipresent or unclear, at least I know
It’s everywhere and it isn’t mine
The hand that writes
Speaks my mind
The tongue it keeps does not play kind
The heart thuds and thumps once more
Loudly bringing it to the fore
All the faces that I’ve seen before
All their menacing smiling eyes
Turn around
Lock the door
Walk away
This house, this history and all its mysteries
They’re not yours anymore
Aug 8, 2016
Aug 8, 2016 at 1:44 PM UTC
- Creating a god inside me was the perfect start for this battle of the sad spurred sands.
"- Here I am, on Blasphemy Lane where everything's dead."
[They killed it]
Fill the void inside me
With Love and Meaning,
Brilliant Sun travelling
Through space and time,
enlightening the blackest Sea;
This darkness in which we dive seems so empty!
~ Rotation ~
"We're spinning around on our own selves to face a dead god."
[They closed it in]
He learned we're in need for some warmth then started looking for it in every galaxy.
"- This hell is cold..."
"- Do you remember the time you swallowed the serpents of Medusa? What did they say to you? Could you hear their screams while burning down your throat? Did you spread their ashes throughout the sands of your hourglass?..."
[You took in the stars]
"...- There is your boat!"
"- I don't know! I'm too cold."
Do fill the void inside me
With Your Love and Meaning,
Brilliant Sun travelling
Through our space and time,...
enlightening this Black Sea;
The darkness in which we dive looks ... so empty!
~ Rotation ~
"I need to burn like a torch and guide you through this cold night."
They gave us a warm thought and left this cold.
"-Now I can remember:
A kiss in the name of God!"
From: The Hour of the Blue Man by Theodora Oniceanu
© All rights Reserved Theodora Oniceanu
Nov 15, 2020
Nov 15, 2020 at 11:33 AM UTC
Through the Venture of Life,
We bear with numerous kinds of Vibe.
Some worth going among,
While some abhorred us along.
We meet many new persons,
Certain as an orison,
While several as illustrations of peril..
We witness many locales;
Few leave magical influence,
Others still haunt us.
And the Quest subsists with damage and progress!!
Mar 5, 2024
Mar 5, 2024 at 2:20 PM UTC
Deep joy in knowing everyone
I know is enjoying Christmas.
I pray: May all the homeless
experience some warm respite
in the kindness of strangers.
Here’s hoping all the horses
get extra nuts and hay;
caviar for cats and PAL -
prolongs active life - for dogs.
As for badgers and foxes:
Please Jesus - let them be snug
and safe in settes and earths.
Let piggies in their sty, upon
fresh straw and sawdust lie.
Abundance of slugs and
beetles for hedgehogs please
and let no owl go hungry in
the frosty silent night. Amen.
Tobias
Dec 28, 2019
Dec 28, 2019 at 4:43 AM UTC
He came from the seas
With fire at his back
His homeland shrouded in smoke
For days he walked
Below the old stars
Sleeping beneath the tall oaks
Until he came to a church
Abandoned and near ruined
A place of the gods that he knew
Removing his armor
He kneeled down and prayed
While behind him long shadows grew
In the midst of his orison
Did he fall into sleep
Brought not by his own weary mind
Then down he was dragged
In dream and in space
Never once looking behind
Fallen victim he had
To the Queen of these lands
Who none would ever suspect
A sly young pythoness
Herself ensnared
Chosen as the Hollow One's elect
Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 7:38 PM UTC
Lost leaves ago, before
the bark- clad savage
ruled with iron lung,
when laurels of
a one- room den, grew
sleek with wet- lid plunder
my sauntering in tousles of
a quick and crease-less happiness
percieved the gifted wish of secret birds.
birds that combed the milking beech
in lemon centred madrigals
to cove their Egypt orison
from dragon banks of slippered fern
Who threw their mooted sermons on
a shivering uncertainty that bubbled
through my vernal rut of optimistic blood
Such useless pleasure, I was told
That I was not a Father's son
yet bore his term an absolute.
As all my nimble colours ran, I
wore his pungent bitterness
Became the thing that he preferred
Before the dungeon keys had turned
basket weaving weeks of youth
I took the gifted wish
of secret birds.
Dec 7, 2017
Dec 7, 2017 at 7:56 PM UTC
●●●
*all of
a sudden
without
premeditation
the heart took
a decision
to involve
with someone*
◆◆◆
*although he
in return
received
discountenance
he couldn't be jilt even
one can termed
it passion
of adoration to her*
◆◆◆
*someone
can say devotion
for orison
although
she could neither
show never
depict any
kind of adhesion*
●●●
© deovrat 19-06-2018
Jun 19, 2018
Jun 19, 2018 at 12:55 PM UTC
It seems nothing is so beguiling as it appears,
Feels like I'm looking at some void;
Enwrapped in the nothingness of time,
My heart yearns for euphoria,
To enliven the wearied ardor for it's being.
I keep calling out,
Even though there's noone to hear me;
Wondering if there's something missing in my orison.
Yet I feel a personage telling me not to give up,
That in the fullness of time we'll thrive;
So I'll keep trying ,
Even if I'm besieged by nothing,
I'll sojourn with gaiety,
Keeping that love right within me.
The path may seem meandering into nihility,
Yet I'll go on,
Engraved may, through my footsteps
Remain forever our favorite song.
Jun 10, 2020
Jun 10, 2020 at 2:33 PM UTC