"partakes" poems
128
Bring me the sunset in a cup,
Reckon the morning’s flagons up
And say how many Dew,
Tell me how far the morning leaps—
Tell me what time the weaver sleeps
Who spun the breadth of blue!
Write me how many notes there be
In the new Robin’s ecstasy
Among astonished boughs—
How many trips the Tortoise makes—
How many cups the Bee partakes,
The Debauchee of Dews!
Also, who laid the Rainbow’s piers,
Also, who leads the docile spheres
By withes of supple blue?
Whose fingers string the stalactite—
Who counts the wampum of the night
To see that none is due?
Who built this little Alban House
And shut the windows down so close
My spirit cannot see?
Who’ll let me out some gala day
With implements to fly away,
Passing Pomposity?
6.5k
Sweet, sweet the fields
where the grass grows rich and full
to fill the valley to a spectacular view
That comes and engulfs this mind of mine.
I run freely the course of the wind
twirling in this dance the eternals play
The days, the nights, ever glowing in bounty
to these wild free images that here surround
infiltrate and vitalize each breath taken
thought spoken and dream envisioned.
Here in the belly structures of life
I commit to the song of the bird over head
the fox upon the green and that screeching call
of the majestic wind, that falls and gathers
every scented blossom from the fragrant womb
Of Mother earths grandeur.
Who understands better or partakes of this form
ever born to the senses, drawn to the Soul
These remote desolate places that summon and call
reminding one of the glory, the powers that yield
Here in the Yorkshire Downs,One learns to know.
Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Apr 2, 2011
Apr 2, 2011 at 6:36 AM UTC
Life is full of problems ,miseries and hardships
To encounter any hurdle one has very many dips
Very many complaints remain under the lips
Very many sweet full moons remain under eclipse
What mockery is a man's life what test it takes
Soul remains always in trouble and heart just aches
In the hour of trial no one is there who partakes
Lot many chances do come in life but mistakes
Never leaves one to be able to be on path of solace
Heightened sentiments when encounter real grace
When one decides to take on difficulty face to face
Courage and confidence travels from race to race
Hope is hallmark of men who suffer with solitude
They are always ready to pay homage with gratitude
One has to remain happy and never ever be rude
What makes real difference is ones positive attitude
Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
Oct 21, 2016
Oct 21, 2016 at 7:02 AM UTC
What is a **********
But a woman
Who partakes in joy with another
A person who provides acceptance and pleasure:
Both emotional and physical
Despite being called *****
What is a **********
But a woman
Who nurtures and loves another
A person who provides pain and pleasure
For those in need for a strong hand to the light
Despite being called "crazy *****
What is a pornstar?
But a woman
Who has the courage to bare her body to the world
A person who provides guidance and desire
To those exploring their sexualities
Despite being called ****
What is a *** worker?
But a woman
Who breaks society's taboos
A person who does what she loves
For those who love her for what she does
Despite being called "disgusting"
*****
****
"sloppy"
And so much more
What is a *** worker?
But a woman
Who is beautiful,
strong,
empowered,
and a truly liberated woman.
May 2, 2019
May 2, 2019 at 8:54 PM UTC
872
As the Starved Maelstrom laps the Navies
As the Vulture teased
Forces the Broods in lonely Valleys
As the Tiger eased
By but a Crumb of Blood, fasts Scarlet
Till he meet a Man
Dainty adorned with Veins and Tissues
And partakes—his Tongue
Cooled by the Morsel for a moment
Grows a fiercer thing
Till he esteem his Dates and Cocoa
A Nutrition mean
I, of a finer Famine
Deem my Supper dry
For but a Berry of Domingo
And a Torrid Eye.
2.9k
May Day
Fertility way
Beltane honours life
A peak of Spring
Earth energies are most effective
Let it begin
All busting with potent fertility
The wheel of the year,
potential becomes conception
Nature is fair
Fire festival glare
Ireland celebrations
Feast of Beltane
Latter times,
Mary's day,
it was called in the rhymes,
they say
Bonfires marking,
the coming of Summer
Granting luck to people's livestock,
without mock
The first day in May Irish holiday
Beltane rituals,
counting young men and women,
picking blossoms in the woods,
lighting fires as the evening stood
Matches for marriages all good,
right there and then,
or Summer Autumn would be when
Medieval modern Europe holiday
Return of Spring observance
Probably originating anyway,
in ancient agricultural roots
Rituals and perseverance,
The Greeks and Romans,
held such festivals
People and their cattle,
would walk around bonfires,
and between rattle
Sometimes leaping over,
embers and flames
All households,
fires doused and re-lit
from the Beltane bonfire
Accompanied by a feast,
with some food and drink,
offered at least
May Day also called Worker's Day,
or International Worker's Day
Commemorating the historic,
struggles and gains made,
by workers,
and the labour movement,
reins without jerkers
In the United States and Canada lakes,
a similar observance known,
as Labor Day partakes on the first,
Monday of September not May
Beltane also sometimes,
goes by the Name May Day
This holiday strongly,
associated with Pagans,
they say,
for fertility come what May
The origins are in ancient play,
across the world this May Day
© 2022 Carol Natasha Diviney
May 1, 2022
May 1, 2022 at 5:45 AM UTC
small, chirpy bird,
flitting under the dome of air port,
comes down, nonchalantly partakes,
omelette from my plate.
Feb 21, 2012
Feb 21, 2012 at 5:07 PM UTC
500
Within my Garden, rides a Bird
Upon a single Wheel—
Whose spokes a dizzy Music make
As ’twere a travelling Mill—
He never stops, but slackens
Above the Ripest Rose—
Partakes without alighting
And praises as he goes,
Till every spice is tasted—
And then his Fairy Gig
Reels in remoter atmospheres—
And I rejoin my Dog,
And He and I, perplex us
If positive, ’twere we—
Or bore the Garden in the Brain
This Curiosity—
But He, the best Logician,
Refers my clumsy eye—
To just vibrating Blossoms!
An Exquisite Reply!
2.6k
(Is there an emotion for mystical? I suppose it would be to be mystified. Perhaps awe is the word I am looking for. I was in awe at the sight of him! I was beyond mystified!)
It started in the Yellow Wastelands. Where life went to die. As life dies there, they become a part of the Yellow Wasteland adding to his spread and growth becoming a sort of crystalline lattice. All go willingly to the crystalline whisper. The whisper in recent theory emanates from the shining yellow crystals that grow among the Yellow Wasteland like blue bonnets in the Texas spring. Once the Whisper is heard the victim willingly partakes in what we call The March. The March is a mindless saunter to The Yellow Wasteland where upon arrival they lay in the yellow dirt and slowly begin crystalizing. We have tried stopping The March. But have been unsuccessful for many years. During the state of the march the victim gains a strange, extraordinary ability to control others as they see fit. If one or a group of people, try and prevent the march they will be controlled by the whisper to put the victim back on track. The final equation that we cannot solve is why one hears the whisper. There seems to be no pattern whatsoever.
On this day my daughter heard the whisper. We walked with her for hours on end. My wife and son followed shortly behind whilst I walked beside her talking about memories and music. My son then caught up and started to play his lute. He played song after song and sang beautiful lyrics that they wrote together. My wife would then catch up to fix our daughters hair and clean her face as we walked and walked toward The Yellow Wasteland. There were times where we would walk all together in a line and pray and pray.
Over the Wolf's crossing trail was a hill. The hill was now called.
" The Last Ascend." The Yellow Wasteland can be seen below. We started the ascend up the last ascend. Tears flooded all our eyes as we were powerless to stop The March.
Feb 1, 2024
Feb 1, 2024 at 2:13 PM UTC
Eliza! what fools are the Mussulman sect,
Who, to woman, deny the soul’s future existence;
Could they see thee, Eliza! they’d own their defect,
And this doctrine would meet with a general resistance.
Had their Prophet possess’d half an atom of sense,
He ne’er would have woman from Paradise driven;
Instead of his Houris, a flimsy pretence,
With woman alone he had peopled his Heaven.
Yet, still, to increase your calamities more,
Not content with depriving your bodies of spirit,
He allots one poor husband to share amongst four!—
With souls you’d dispense; but, this last, who could bear it?
His religion to please neither party is made;
On husbands ’tis hard, to the wives most uncivil;
Still I can’t contradict, what so oft has been said,
“Though women are angels, yet wedlock’s the devil.”
This terrible truth, even Scripture has told,
Ye Benedicks! hear me, and listen with rapture;
If a glimpse of redemption you wish to behold,
Of ST. MATT.—read the second and twentieth chapter.
’Tis surely enough upon earth to be vex’d,
With wives who eternal confusion are spreading;
“But in Heaven” (so runs the Evangelists’ Text)
“We neither have giving in marriage, or wedding.”
From this we suppose, (as indeed well we may,)
That should Saints after death, with their spouses put up more,
And wives, as in life, aim at absolute sway,
All Heaven would ring with the conjugal uproar.
Distraction and Discord would follow in course,
Nor MATTHEW, nor MARK, nor ST. PAUL, can deny it,
The only expedient is general divorce,
To prevent universal disturbance and riot.
But though husband and wife, shall at length be disjoin’d,
Yet woman and man ne’er were meant to dissever,
Our chains once dissolv’d, and our hearts unconfin’d,
We’ll love without bonds, but we’ll love you for ever.
Though souls are denied you by fools and by rakes,
Should you own it yourselves, I would even then doubt you,
Your nature so much of celestial partakes,
The Garden of Eden would wither without you.
1.8k
Faith falls out
of the lottery winning man
just as it is absorbed
by the cancer ridden man.
Nothing makes sense
in this world in which we live
and everything is gray in the relationship
we allow to live.
God creates man,
man creates God,
sheep live blissfully ignorant
without a need for a god.
The fastest man on earth
partakes of the green,
and the fastest man on water
partakes of the green,
yet the laziest men on earth
criminalize that which is our birth right.
Freedom's legality is a matter of discussion,
it's a matter of luck and
place of citizenship.
Depending on where you are
you may speak your mind.
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 11:19 PM UTC
Immensity cloistered in thy dear womb,
Now leaves His well-belov’d imprisonment,
There He hath made Himself to His intent
Weak enough, now into the world to come;
But O, for thee, for Him, hath the inn no room?
Yet lay Him in this stall, and from the Orient,
Stars and wise men will travel to prevent
The effect of Herod’s jealous general doom.
Seest thou, my soul, with thy faith’s eyes, how He
Which fills all place, yet none holds Him, doth lie?
Was not His pity towards thee wondrous high,
That would have need to be pitied by thee?
Kiss Him, and with Him into Egypt go,
With His kind mother, who partakes thy woe.
1.5k
ummm!! I'm gonna take his
blindfold off for him to savor
me with his gaze, eyes roam
touchin' me in silent awe; finger
tastin', the unthinkable, straddlin',
squeezin', teasin' and grazin' nips
leavin' wet trails of pleasure upon
briny masculinity; listenin' to his
heart race, ignites lustful tremors
stroked insanity, slippery slit teases;
thoughts throb, as thickness swells,
swollen senses breathe deeply of
soaked scents; flickin' bud betwixt
achin' petals...damn! Oooo!...yes!!
soft, ebony fingers assault and swirl
elicitin' moans and sighs, takin' nips
betwixt teeth again as fingers enter
swollen honeycomb; overflowin' in
sweetness
sweat rolls off our body, bitin' nips
eruptin' sparks of long awaited aches,
dominance partakes its desire, slitherin'
along bouquet thighs, blossomed scents
flow; emanating moans givin' reason to
beg; biting silk sheets, tonguin' his treat
actin' like a freak, lovin' me cheek to
cheek; playin' me like a symphony
strummin' thighs, releasing melodious
sighs, sensual cries in sultry lullabies
in trebled tempo's in and out of wet
tightness, as I blindfold him; complyin'
with his ****** whims...takin' me again and again
Jun 12, 2012
Jun 12, 2012 at 6:35 AM UTC
Borges Arte Poética
Un breve mármol cuida su memoria;
Sobre nosotros crece, atroz, la historia.
Pienso que si pudiera ver mi cara sabría quien soy en esta tarde rara.
pienso y solo siento al pobre soñador de su propia persona el que no pierde ni un segundo en escribe, el escritor mas puro de el mundo, un elegante señor bigote, un montrou poeta, que para por momentos a sentir su corazon que siente el soñante de este mundo minisculo, que se hace cuanto los dias ya no son escrituras y las escritos no pueden recitar, recuerda el recitar, de el hombre invisible, el unico, el terrible infant born inborn wild man of the corn, he partakes indefinitely, he was nevertherland, he was norse, he was el bewolf olvidado, el fue irlandia, el fue prague, el entendio a kafka, fuera el pratimonio a el. tengo algo que te sorprende harvard boys, que piensan de virtudes, que es el intelectual en este mundo, gira y no alguien lo compro, se sabe que el mas sabio se retira y no dice nada, huevo de pascal, huevo de wells, huevo invisible, hombre divisible. moneda, oro, maya, azteca, o inca, enblema, de nativo que es la pena de vivira, existera, existera. vara till, uthärdar.
Sep 17, 2021
Sep 17, 2021 at 11:36 PM UTC
I watch, at the
prairie of time
the unfurling of nature
the dissertation
of saints
and in the hinterlands
a bare cry of
entrance
barred into the heavens
whispers of the world
residues
of fate and light
and devils
grieving for their
sacrifices
and slipping
into the worlds of men
the partakes in
grey barriers
and lossy colours
periphery
the ancient coliseum
the warface of dread
and acquittals of
memories
moments in time
spinning on the axle
grappling onto thoughts
and endless flows.
Apr 22, 2012
Apr 22, 2012 at 10:38 AM UTC
not capable of finishing anything
take my last poem.
about an angsty girl supposed to
be a young functioning adult now
and isnt capable of having dreams.
this was about me yet
yet i still couldnt add in the bits
about where i really chose
my first kiss to be with someone i didnt
even moderately enjoy as a person
(though he was good physically)
so love had nowhere
to go but up.
or how whenever the young girl partakes in
drinking with strangers for once in her ********* life
she can lock herself in the closet
smile
and feel absolutely nothing
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 12:50 PM UTC
it's strange the rides your mind partakes in while it sits still in your head.
i am unmoving, staring at the endless rows of grey spotted ceiling tiles from a bed, while my mind cartwheels and bursts into flames, cosmic colour, ribbon dancing through its many seasons during my quiet sit down. it swims through galaxies with graceful strokes, leaping joyfully into nebulas and leaving behind a shimmering trail of sparks. it speaks in starlight and dances hand in hand with planets.
the peaceful space of the space in my mind
bursts to life.
Dec 8, 2016
Dec 8, 2016 at 5:26 AM UTC
Insomnia returns
Like an old friend.
Well, maybe not a friend.
But that annoying person
You are never fully capable
Of shaking away.
What is one to do?
But wait for morning to come along
And take your mind off of everything.
In a few days,
What should be a clean slate will begin.
But it’s not. Not really.
It’s just a reminder
That time is wasting away.
That there is never quite enough.
At this hour most everyone sleeps
Or partakes in an event
Far more pressing than my sanity.
So what is there to do but sit?
Alone with my thoughts, my regrets,
Worst of all my fears.
Nothing you can do is good enough
Though people might say it is.
But deep in your heart you know
There is always something missing
If there wasn’t,
Would we be human?
Are we even capable of reaching happiness?
Or are we stuck in a loop of ongoing disdain?
Forever miserable.
Forever awake.
With your heart racing your mind
Trying to determine who can work faster.
Neither ever seems to win.
They just continue to fight
Over and over
Resulting in a constant tie.
Maybe one day all will be clear.
But for now it remains mud.
Jul 24, 2010
Jul 24, 2010 at 8:59 PM UTC
the story of the Colossus
is epic in dimension and size
to narrate it would require
an endless sunrise
enamored with his poetic skills
we all most certainly are
his radiant abilities shine
brighter than the evening star
the page comes to life
as we so attentively read
his phrases and figures of speech
are of the finest creed
the awesomeness
of his poetry doth so inspire
with a wordage pool
that sets our hearts on fire
his quill's ink ne'er partakes of rest
for there is much he hath need to say
at his desk he labors on a stanza
to so sublimely and excellently array
marvelous, exemplary, outstanding
all of these superlatives and more
tells us of the rare prowess and style
the Colossus hath in spades galore
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 11:16 PM UTC
Things are wild in the Garden of Eden
When Adam returns from his daily toil.
(You see: even in Paradise
Adam has to till the soil.)
"Adam," says Eve, "taste this fruit.
How could one ever surmise
That eating this fruit could be one's undoing?
You'll see the world through different eyes."
Adam partakes of the forbidden fruit,
And all of a sudden he feels inside
A rush of shame. Grabbing Eve's hand,
He says, "Come. We've got to hide."
A booming voice shakes the foliage,
**** I knew I'd eventually dread it.
When I made you humans, I
Certainly gave you too much credit.
"What did I tell you about partaking
Of the tree bearing forbidden fruit?"
"Eve MADE me do it!" cries Adam.
God yells, "I don't give a hoot!"
"The serpent," says Eve. "It's the serpent's fault.
He was the actual perpetrator."
"Shush," says God. "You silly ninnies.
I will deal with the serpent later.
"Your thirst for knowledge of good and evil
Opened your eyes. I knew you'd rue it.
You'll be banished from Paradise now.
Bottom line: you both blew it."
Then God adds, "And put on some clothes.
Don't you feel at all ashamed?
And, by the way, before you leave,
Are there any animals you haven't named?"
Adam shrugs, "Nameless animals…
Let's see. I don't think there are any.
But there are millions of species here.
Why did you have to make so many?"
"Exit now from the Garden," God thunders.
"You had to know the mess you'd be in.
Both of you are going to discover
That now your troubles will really begin."
The Garden gates slam shut behind them
As the couple sadly wanders off.
"A fine mess you got us into!"
Adam mutters to Eve with a scoff.
"Life was easy in the Garden of Eden,
But there's one thing I have to confess,"
Says Eve, admiring herself in a pond,
"I'm really liking my brand new dress."
If they think they have troubles now,
Wait till they see what else God forbids:
Mixing fabrics and eating shellfish.
And wait till they start having kids.
"People are going to blame us," says Adam.
"We need to come up with a good solution.
I'm hoping that somebody somewhere devises
A logical theory of evolution."
So off they journey, hand in hand,
Wishing they'd gotten by with impunity.
"It was just fruit," they lament, already
Missing their life in their gated community.
Oct 3, 2016
Oct 3, 2016 at 9:34 PM UTC
**Do they know, what it’s like?
Visuals emerge, inside my head…**
People everywhere, pushing,
No one watching, no one caring.
My throat…closing.
Suffocation. Anxiety.
The noise - there’s too much.
Screaming, laughing, yelling,
It fills every space in my mind.
I have no escape.
Claustrophobia. Anxiety.
They’re everywhere I turn…
Those noticing ask, are you okay?
Everyone looks at me. Stop staring!!
I can’t breathe...something’s rising inside.
Anger. Embarrassment. Anxiety.
There’s no where to go, no place to run.
Questions, Questions, Questions…
Why? Why not? You have to…
The pressure, the force – it's building within.
Overwhelmed. Ashamed. Anxiety.
**Do you really know, what it’s like?
Be thankful you don’t walk,
Even a mile in these shoes.
Because then you might understand,
What it’s like, to have to choose...**
Alone in my empty home,
Because I just couldn’t embrace,
A tradition in which family partakes...
No Stampede Breakfast, just isolation.
Sadness. Depression. Anxiety.
Do they really know…..what it’s like?
Jul 13, 2016
Jul 13, 2016 at 10:25 AM UTC
I used to think sadness is beautiful
Maybe because It's just a place where I'd rather be at my befall.
I have experienced pain,
Pain makes me realize what happiness really partakes
I've been lost for a while
Then suddenly I found myself being at a right place where I could be me for a longtime
Could this be the happiness that I'm waiting or It's just temporary just like a finger snap.
I should never waste my time
seeking for the things that will make me smile
I really keep on trying, just to find the happiness that I desire
yet I forgot I's just hiding on the things that I admire
Life is so much better
when things get sweeter
I found love that made me realize that happiness is just around
and would make people calm down.
Happiness is just around, in every little thing that surrounds us
We should open our eyes to see what would be the great things that awaits us.
My happiness seeks attention
and I should never forget to make things memorable.
Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 10:50 AM UTC
This is my brother
He’s smart, nice, and keen
If art took him
He’d create a pretty scene
If music he did take part
He’d compose to touch a heart
If writing was his way at hand
His works would be finer than grand
But he did not choose these
He chose another path
One with a secret other half
Now with my brother
There is another
This is my monster
It’s mean, crass, and rude
In essence one ****** dude
It’ll cheat, hide, lie
It has made us all cry
Whenever it’s about
My feelings come rushing out
It makes me helpless
And then mad
Then guilty, and sad
But when I should rest
I feel is depressed.
As I lay at night awake
Thinking of what that thing partakes
A wandering question seeps through my mind
A question of the sinister kind
When will this monster die?
How can this come upon
The two people are the same guy
The monster I want gone…
Is my brother when he’s high.
Sep 28, 2010
Sep 28, 2010 at 4:49 PM UTC
Yellow poison when ever injected in the body
Is taken to entire body by particles of blood
It takes over heart and brain and make cloudy
Then it engulfs entire body like violent flood
Thinking stops and suspicions come to surface
Under the auspice one becomes more anxious
Yellow pages, hypocrites ***** same disgrace
All is poisoned for petty benefits pace to pace
The venomous smile on faces of religious rascals
Who come to innocent people in garb of angels
They are make minds crippled guided by devils
They are devoid of any values and any morals
Yellow poison is more in humans than in snakes
It is responsible for all heartaches and heartbreaks
It is the devil's game in which every one partakes
We should be aware, relations are poisonous snakes
Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
Dec 13, 2016
Dec 13, 2016 at 4:37 AM UTC
I see the River made of time
And water
And remember that time is
A fork of rivers,
And I know we are like that river;
Dissolution into an ocean of souls.
I see the bleak nature of my mind,
Natural as it is,
I wish to break from this line of thought:
To be aware in my dreams,
And to know the fear
That we call death is but
Another sleep into another dream.
To be in the here of the now,
To rage against the days
Into the passion of my life
And celebrate every breath I take.
To find the sorrowful gold
Which is poetry,
Immortal fire of my soul
And rain the embers of words
Upon the page like the
Thunder and lightning in a
Sudden storm.
To love once again,
Feel her essence over me,
As if her body hovers
Just above me as to feel
Her electrical current run
Through every cell that feels.
And I know time is a river,
One that never ends,
It shimmers with every
Memory one ever makes,
And every drop is a life the
Soul partakes,
We are born again
Where the river begins.
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 11:38 AM UTC