"penurious" poems
in a dark of frenzy it boils up inside
until summarily and inexplicably
see the colour between brown and blue
more than see it, immerse myself in it
swimming slowly in its clouds
see the colour between brown and blue
everywhere votive candles light
the colour between brown and blue
with slender tapers that touch a life
any life, your life
casting strange shadows, loose shadows
between the colour of brown and blue
children swarm, children with bright white
starvation hair, children with hands
like small worn mittens
who raise red swarms in hot worn out
death laden dust
dust that cauterizes the nostrils
with the stench of penurious insanity
the colour between brown and blue
that inveigles a purchase of flies
bottle blue, black blue, green blue,
swarming blue, swirling whirling blue
a black and blue confetti of flies
then the sudden zero of the
colour between brown and blue
hair raising, command faith
willed, willing, mumbling, murmuring
the excitement of writing between
the colour of brown and blue
trees shake and tremble
words regurgitate themselves like hot
food, the bark, write
now fully electrically charged
seized by the colour between brown and blue
forget everything else, write, write more, more, write
trembling with sudden shudders of merciless
vowels, madness penurious pencil
moves across, demanding paper
pushing worn words, worthy words whittled by use
words not yet written, words of wonder
oh what words
beautiful, baffling,baleful, words
with beastly beatitudes, words that conjure the mind
words between brown and blue
that leave you skinny like a stray dog
words so demanding leave you shut up in an
airless abattoir of high energy and low residue
the colour between brown and blue
where everywhere is everywhere else
touched by the flames of the colour between brown and blue
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 11:01 PM UTC
Once upon a time there was an Italian,
And some people thought he was a rapscallion,
But he wasn't offended,
Because other people thought he was splendid,
And he said the world was round,
And everybody made an uncomplimentary sound,
But he went and tried to borrow some money from Ferdinand
But Ferdinand said America was a bird in the bush and he'd rather have a berdinand,
But Columbus' brain was fertile, it wasn't arid,
And he remembered that Ferdinand was married,
And he thought, there is no wife like a misunderstood one,
Because if her husband thinks something is a terrible idea she is bound to think it a good one,
So he perfumed his handkerchief with bay *** and citronella,
And he went to see Isabella,
And he looked wonderful but he had never felt sillier,
And she said, I can't place the face but the aroma is familiar,
And Columbus didn't say a word,
All he said was, I am Columbus, the fifteenth-century Admiral Byrd,
And, just as he thought, her disposition was very malleable,
And she said, Here are my jewels, and she wasn't penurious like Cornelia the mother of the Gracchi, she wasn't referring to her children, no, she was referring to her jewels, which were very very valuable,
So Columbus said, Somebody show me the sunset and somebody did and he set sail for it,
And he discovered America and they put him in jail for it,
And the fetters gave him welts,
And they named America after somebody else,
So the sad fate of Columbus ought to be pointed out to every child and every voter,
Because it has a very important moral, which is, Don't be a discoverer, be a promoter.
3.3k
313
I should have been too glad, I see—
Too lifted—for the scant degree
Of Life’s penurious Round—
My little Circuit would have shamed
This new Circumference—have blamed—
The homelier time behind.
I should have been too saved—I see—
Too rescued—Fear too dim to me
That I could spell the Prayer
I knew so perfect—yesterday—
That Scalding One—Sabachthani—
Recited fluent—here—
Earth would have been too much—I see—
And Heaven—not enough for me—
I should have had the Joy
Without the Fear—to justify—
The Palm—without the Calvary—
So Savior—Crucify—
Defeat—whets Victory—they say—
The Reefs—in old Gethsemane—
Endear the Coast—beyond!
’Tis Beggars—Banquets—can define—
’Tis Parching—vitalizes Wine—
“Faith” bleats—to understand!
2.5k
1717
Did life’s penurious length
Italicize its sweetness,
The men that daily live
Would stand so deep in joy
That it would clog the cogs
Of that revolving reason
Whose esoteric belt
Protects our sanity.
1.9k
Hopeful maiden,
Mistress of cotillions,
Depthless, devoid of culture,
Unquestioning, incurious,
Seeks her warrior-beast-of-burden,
A man's man, a sportsman of sorts,
Yet sensitive and without ego,
A staunch provider,
Seeking beauty for its own sake,
A coy, coltish fawn, un-artful,
Un-fawning, who cannot keep a house,
Hold her tongue nor navigate
Social gatherings, one whose passion
Is only on offer, never proffered,
She seeks an old fashioned man
Who appreciates her
Mannish manner and business
Acumen— artists, musicians,
And above all penurious poets
Need not apply, I wish
To learn to cook one fashionable
Day, I am working on
Being famous, it is such
A burden being lovely,
Beautiful.
Are all the good
Men Married? Gay?
Professional athletes,
A-list actors, incarcerated
Felons wanted, perfect
Listeners needed,
Kryptonians preferred.
Jun 8, 2013
Jun 8, 2013 at 2:43 PM UTC
88
As by the dead we love to sit,
Become so wondrous dear—
As for the lost we grapple
Tho’ all the rest are here—
In broken mathematics
We estimate our prize
Vast—in its fading ration
To our penurious eyes!
1.7k
Hopeful maiden,
Mistress of cotillions,
Depthless, devoid of culture,
Unquestioning, incurious,
Seeks her warrior-beast-of-burden,
A man's man, a sportsman of sorts,
Yet sensitive and without ego,
A staunch provider,
Seeking beauty for its own sake,
A coy, coltish fawn, un-artful,
Un-fawning, who cannot keep a house,
Hold her tongue nor navigate
Social gatherings, one whose passion
Is only on offer, never proffered,
She seeks an old fashioned man
Who appreciates her
Mannish manner and business
Acumen— artists, musicians,
And above all penurious poets
Need not apply, I wish
To learn to cook one fashionable
Day, I am working on
Being famous, it is such
A burden being lovely,
Beautiful.
Are all the good
Men Married? Gay?
Professional athletes,
A-list actors, incarcerated
Felons wanted, perfect
Listeners needed,
Kryptonians preferred.
Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 8:48 PM UTC
i.
The gloaming is soothing in her presence.
Forthwith, raptured by her glimpse;
I mayest be penurious by worldly
Standard, though with Yahweh
Next to me, and mine queen
Sent to me, I'm opulent
With none enemies
As tis mine soul is
Free.
ii.
None ill-will in me breed's, I've
Walked the path of native tree's;
Wherein the places I canst ramble,
Art not from men's thought's; thus where Lucifer
Gamble's, and soul's art cleaved.
iii.
Mine feet and toes, taketh me where I need
to go, as tis the holy ghost; that dwelleth in me.
The Trinity- "father, son, and holy spirit", whereinto
Jehovah's brilliance reflect's sky ceiling's. As mine Jane is
There in dark or bright-in wrong and right, when thunder strikes,
Or in the fog unknown, when mine heart's alone, and skin need's touch, mine Jane giveth me love, a love uncrushed. A love so much; God as her lead, she dances for me, with her angelic wing's
Inside mine sleep. Her pictures I keep alongside mine wall's, to remembereth the intercession, and the bestowal from God.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©earl Jane Nagley ( àgapi mou) dedication
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 10:56 PM UTC
Peerless profundities profusely proffered,
Produce prolapse and propensities pro-fluent,
Presumption presides, practitioners pilfer,
Perception perfunctory, penance penurious.
Dec 24, 2011
Dec 24, 2011 at 11:10 PM UTC
868
They ask but our Delight—
The Darlings of the Soil
And grant us all their Countenance
For a penurious smile.
1.2k
Hopeful maiden,
Mistress of cotillions,
Depthless, devoid of culture,
Unquestioning, incurious,
Seeks her warrior-beast-of-burden,
A man's man, a sportsman of sorts,
Yet sensitive and without ego,
A staunch provider,
Seeking beauty for its own sake,
A coy, coltish fawn, un-artful,
Un-fawning, who cannot keep a house,
Hold her tongue nor navigate
Social gatherings, one whose passion
Is only on offer, never proffered,
She seeks an old fashioned man
Who appreciates her
Mannish manner and business
Acumen— artists, musicians,
And above all penurious poets
Need not apply, I wish
To learn to cook one fashionable
Day, I am working on
Being famous, it is such
A burden being lovely,
Beautiful.
Are all the good
Men Married? Gay?
Professional athletes,
A-list actors, incarcerated
Felons wanted, perfect
Listeners needed,
Kryptonians preferred.
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 1:29 PM UTC
Hopeful maiden,
Mistress of cotillions,
Depthless, devoid of culture,
Unquestioning, incurious,
Seeks her warrior-beast-of-burden,
A man's man, a sportsman of sorts,
Yet sensitive and without ego,
A staunch provider,
Seeking beauty for its own sake,
A coy, coltish fawn, un-artful,
Un-fawning, who cannot keep a house,
Hold her tongue nor navigate
Social gatherings, one whose passion
Is only on offer, never proffered,
She seeks an old fashioned man
Who appreciates her
Mannish manner and business
Acumen— artists, musicians,
And above all penurious poets
Need not apply, I wish
To learn to cook one fashionable
Day, I am working on
Being famous, it is such
A burden being lovely,
Beautiful.
Are all the good
Men Married? Gay?
Professional athletes,
A-list actors, incarcerated
Felons wanted, perfect
Listeners needed,
Kryptonians preferred.
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 2:18 PM UTC
Pusillanimous polecats
Practicing perfidy
Plan parties and
Parse probabilities proudly
Partially putting past
The paltry populace
Pornographic postulations
And potboilers
Pointing poisonous
Proclamations publically
Pitting proper people
To pathetic programs
Promising the penurious
More poverty.
Often posthumously.
Pitiful people plead
Putting need over posture
Putting parents out to pasture
Promising, but passing on
Proper placement of
Propriety and parity
Planting nothing for posterity,
Prizing prosperity
Politicizing with polemics
Post-mortems on politeness
Placing pandering
Higher in practice
By perpetrating
Practical party politics.
Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 7:23 PM UTC
Why should I recite a poem?
When poems do not make the point
Why should I sing a lullaby?
When you cannot make gold of columbite
Please pardon these stream of senseless sentences
Why should I wear the baby a bib?
When there is no food, not a bit
Why should I plant and not water rose?
And yet anticipate it grows
Trust me prayers pay side by side practice
Why should I tell tales of times untold?
When time –the teller- never told
Why should I curse, condemn and crucify the crown?
When the crown is another’s clown
Please forgive me for my rhymes are full of follies
Haven’t these ills been told by many?
Yet those a-thrones do not give a penny?
Havent these been written in poetry plays?
Played on the crown who laughs and pays
Ah, the human heart is hardened
Will we ever change this attitude?
And put an end to this servitude
Would that not put an end to this penurious life?
And make men once again well-wife
Once was life, now it is just strife
I wish we will live another once.
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 5:19 PM UTC
I've been seeing
children breast feeding
their penurious newly borns
While poverty-stricken,
in the pit of their homes.
Others pursue death as their only hope.
It is hell i tell you,
These streets with charcoal
And gun smoke
drove my brothers and sisters
Into a deep dark hole,
where the cry of the lost
was never heard,
both had no drivers license,
So they smashed on thick walls
during their way back
home.
so we held sermons
and praised, we even worshiped
with faith songs
To harmonies their souls.
_
**** and ****
only paved the way
to the crucial storms,
we woke up yesterday it eroded
the soul out of her,
I tried to perform CPR
on her senseless brain,
but she was too deep to rescue,
This long road leads to lucifer's door
But their smoked minds
knocked maybe twice, or even more.
they couldn't heed from
the morns
Of the demons behind those dark ghetto edges
holding marijuana and silver guns on the other hand,
they hallowed for a hand, but too bad
we were too scared
they were already dead.
Mar 15, 2019
Mar 15, 2019 at 9:25 AM UTC
The man, lanky and
Lugubrious in his actions,
Filled with loneliness and
Compassions. I watch
With absurd interest as he
Smiles, missing teeth and
Yet, a light in his eyes that
Never goes out when he
Talks to his grandson,
Beauty and approbation
On his face. I conclude
With sadness that this is
The only time he is happy.
The only time the life in
Him awakens. The only
time his soul rejoices
And yet, I sit here, just
Penning down someone's
Penurious life sans joy.
Doing nothing about it,
Replicating the standard
Human nature.
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 3:50 PM UTC
We who are the dancing, we who are the free
The laughing singing multitude that bears the song of the earth on our tongues,
That bear the soul of the earth with our hearts
And march to the melody of our own invisible song
We whose anthem christens the sky with the fullness of our boldness, of our voices,
The children born of the song of the spheres
That align with the stars and swim in the moonlight of forgotten gods
And pray to the miracle of the clouds, painted and forever traveling
We who are the awakened many
The harbingers of forgiveness
That do not shudder in the glorious face of eternity
And who wash away our tears along with our fathers’ past sins
We who were muted, who were muzzled and mauve
The silenced, shackled dreamers once hooked to the drug of complacency but
That chose to follow fate’s thread out of Asterion’s dwelling
And wander forever onward into the beautiful unknown
• We declare a peace that consumes us, white hot and burning
Without fear of our waxy wings soaring our spirits into the glowing sky
But with the joys of love and voices lifted in song
• We declare an equalness between ourselves, springy and pure
Without angst over our mortal trappings
But with the knowing in our stardust selves
• We declare a justice pure and blind
Without deafness or a commitment to her own fear,
But with a feather-soft understanding to temper her wrath
• We declare a world clean of human spite and neglectfulness
Without revolting sedation or penurious derision
But with the heart-worn life and long-wrinkled smiles of deep-rooted love
• We declare a dedication to truth and knowledge
Without the cowardice of a narrow, a cramped, a self-hurt mind
But with the mantle of honesty;
A mantle of honesty;
it makes us light as the flutters of butterflies
Oct 25, 2017
Oct 25, 2017 at 1:33 PM UTC
Emotional sequestration perseverates
across thine time warped
weft wise wold,
sans interpersonal stagnation
flourishes as oft twice told
tale amidst derelict hollowed
moldering sacrificed stranglehold
did potential..., now bankrupt acquaintanceships/
friendships get out sold
agonizingly excruciatingly
jujitsu physically writhing
front row seat occupied -
whereat direct view of scaffold
penurious adolescent Anorexia Nervosa
plagued decades prior fraught
psychological, neurological and illogical
repercussions steam rolled
natural heterosexual propensity
stifling, stinting, and stymying this old
morosely jinxed kerfuffle inciting,
hermetically heat sealed,
tightly bound stinging
straitened yellow jacketed
bee devilish mold
hogtied hold, pig in the poke,
xenophobic-ally
fastened, galvanic hold
wrenching vice grippe
fiercely extolled sterile lackluster
human existence devoid cold
hence, imperative ambition
to act forthright and bold
before advanced age
finds this wordsmith additionally auld.
This solitary reader quests doth newt plead
per outreach need
without supplicating, lionizing, boot mead
dee eight ting, enticing Nietzscheism lead
me by thine pug nose,
nor doth this passive heretic - heed
ding perseverance
without selfishness nor greed
aye only seek to be freed,
where ambivalence to enjoy life exceed
sharing soulful travails yes in deed
foster repartee with persons no matter creed
faith, intelligence, nationality breed
united by state worthy charisma agreed?
Jun 18, 2018
Jun 18, 2018 at 9:58 PM UTC
Fishing something alluring for me
Something that oozes pleasure
Penurious of ornaments/ lets say
Dewdrop’ expiration/without echo
An aperture escape / anything/
A friendship afternoon/with rime
Some silence/ with glances fleeting /
Maybe/ a table /with white lid
Maria Panoutsou
Feb 11, 2017
Feb 11, 2017 at 6:14 PM UTC
There is no shame in writing feelings.
I want to tattoo them inside.
My mind is a beautiful garden, and I can not get out of it.
The wall is nonexistent, but made of metal sticks, and I can see the exit, but I am hopelessly stuck.
Years or days ago I might write lovingly but now I am too stingy. I am penurious for words.
For all so many things inside me, I am a speechless animal.
It is like everything is higher than me, and I am already six feet underground looking up at their boots.
There is a rain in my garden.
Rain
Coming into town
Watching every window
Watching every widow
Watching every nook
The best spy ever
Talking cryptic rhythmes
During afternoons
Starting March till June
I wish there were no rain, no anything, nothing.
I feel like an astronaut
I feel like an astronaut
It's like my ID is a fraud
I feel like I'm here but I'm not
I am a dopamine ******
Nov 8, 2019
Nov 8, 2019 at 6:54 AM UTC
After about fifty years as married wife
the last three fraught with strife
obvious telltale signs of terminal illness rife
hysterectomy irrevocably didst jackknife
at the least severely incapacitated
think pitted, riddled,
and rounced her tortured life.
Ovarian cancer affliction
on par with megadeath
bald pate (color of bleached skull),
and crossbones characterized mortal death
oxygen tank to sustain each measured breath.
Nonetheless her angry spirited accursed
ferocity, ejaculatory, denunciatory burst
expletive and epithet
peppered preponderant rant,
(no kidney you) laced
and dull livered worst
fulmination, exasperation,
(albeit feebly faint)
damnation well versed
lips mouthing implacable thirst
to defy grim reaper uber
lyft driver analogous hearst
jubilation immune to
interrogation and/or humiliation
diatribes interpreted glorification,
remained scythe lent bore
scathing rebukes hurled regarding
her sole son (courtesy
miraculous biological reproduction)
dogged with financial perdition
eased series of unfortunate events narration
blessed nonagenarian widower husband
generous father gave male progeny
eased (his/mine) absolution
availed immense monetary boost,
she (envision banshee)
voiced abhorrent objection
regarding liberal outpouring
triggered her vitriolic remenstration.
Similar with pointed gesticulation,
excoriation, cannibalization, abomination...
against reducing his albatross
yoking penurious defeat
her livid hostility displayed, decried,
****** how Matthew Scott,
(I shoal mussel metaphor
without clamming up, how
said offspring coasts) along easy street,
while she sorely protested (thankfully in vain)
even after succumbing to painful demise,
she vehemently, obstreperously and helplessly
loathes handsome handout
to yours truly forsakes Pete.
Jan 16, 2020
Jan 16, 2020 at 5:55 PM UTC
Our love is like a train;
It keeps going for a few hundred tons,
Then suddenly stops.
There is no more coal being consumed.
I have to be the engineer, getting more coal to keep us going.
Your love is pretty cruel. You are wonderful,
Then you are penurious. You stab my heart;
You put me back together with the best tape you have.
Deep down, you’re just hollow.
I want to yell and scream but in the end, I’m stuck on the train
Destined to the one seesaw on Cider Street,
Where you filled my heart, and drained it.
Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 10:25 PM UTC
A storm is whirling in my frenzied heart
That my fragile chest can no more hold
Oh! the penurious ink of my dried pen
scrawl my ravings and let them be told
My crime is naught, but I've loved
those eyes than the precious gem and gold
My own scourge is taunting my pride
can my chronicle be ever that much bold
my aimless walk in my wretched world
is an agonizing tale of emotions cold
©Badee Uz Zaman
Dec 5, 2016
Dec 5, 2016 at 9:45 PM UTC