"placidly" poems
Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.
May 14, 2017
May 14, 2017 at 8:30 AM UTC
Closer she got pulled,
her body now leaning on his,
dancing with grace,
to the symphony of melancholic haze.
Chest to chest,
her heartbeats so apace,
dancing with him placidly,
trying to keep her breathing awake.
Staring into each others eyes,
icy-blue and stormy grey,
his seemed dead, hers so radiant,
both so different, yet so interlaced.
He was a mystery she just met,
totally oblivious of his true intent,
for he was the devil in disguise,
and she was the prey he wished to torment.
A kiss was shared,
her soul he stole,
his lips like morphine,
knocked her out cold.
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 10:58 PM UTC
THE moon upon the wide sea
Placidly looks down,
Smiling with her mild face,
Though the ocean frown.
Clouds may dim her brightness,
But soon they pass away,
And she shines out, unaltered,
O'er the little waves at play.
So 'mid the storm or sunshine,
Wherever she may go,
Led on by her hidden power
The wild see must plow.
As the tranquil evening moon
Looks on that restless sea,
So a mother's gentle face,
Little child, is watching thee.
Then banish every tempest,
Chase all your clouds away,
That smoothly and brightly
Your quiet heart may play.
Let cheerful looks and actions
Like shining ripples flow,
Following the mother's voice,
Singing as they go.
3.4k
*Reading poems today on Hello Poetry
This is what came to me as the Love
Mete with so much needs of ALL!!!*
Desiderata
***Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.***
Dec 15, 2012
Dec 15, 2012 at 10:04 PM UTC
You are witnessing a prodigious talent and promise, and to a lesser extent but still to the degree whereby it should keep you awake at night writhing in cold sweats, your life, slip agonisingly through your open and clammy palms. Promise means so little if not actualised. You have been granted chance after warning after fortuitous escape yet have blithely spurned every omen and will one day fall, swiftly and perhaps terminally. You are almost certainly depressed. You say you love your girlfriend, and you mean it wholeheartedly when you do, but you worry that the relationship perpetuates as without her there would be no reason to rise with the sun. Even if the relationship is unstable, and at times verging on the unhealthy, you believe you love her but are too great a coward to consider decisive action if that belief is to reside or subside. Your friends range from kind and honest yet deeply flawed to somehow toeing an inextricably thin line between dependability and duplicitousness. Conversations with a certain few of your friends necessitate decrying every undercooked ethos you've every conned yourself into believing you hold (you could well be the most hypocritical liberal to walk the earth, for you are innately and irrepressibly selfish) yet you still nod placidly as your conscience squirms. Grotesquely, like a beaten spouse, you crave the gaze of those who have treated you with the most insulting derision, but are too proud (of what?) and, a running theme, too cowardly, to stoop to a simple detante. You must change, for it pains you on a most base level to have to accept the feeble, whimpering, simpering spectre you have become. You must be bold, brave, unashamed in your convictions, anything but pursed and silent lips. You have a voice, and you must now speak loud enough for them to hear, for that which has become blunted must be whetted, sharpened, readied for battle to be unsheathed at an utterance. Heed the signs and change, for our sake. You, a milksop who attentively notes the sophistry of courage, you can still be brave, and you must be.
For one day you will be swelled with a courage and fortitude to fill your sails taut, enough to leave this place, forget these people and bear you away.
Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 8:08 PM UTC
*Hours of darkness began to sigh
As daylight, no longer in sight
Gushing of water flowing placidly in the stream
Oh-what a lovely evening, to dream
My feet drag me to the wilds
The feeling of exhilaration like a child
Where the bleak twigs creak
And the frigid weather kisses my cheeks
Solitude state under the ethereal sky
How I wish you nigh
But this lonesome brought me to a place,
I call it Nowhere because my journey isn't over
For I'll always be a wanderer*
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 12:07 AM UTC
What would you do for adrenaline?
Speed along uneven country roads,
Aim just right for that special ****
Fly upward unexpectedly,
Drop back down with a thump?
Sweat in a long queue,
Strap oneself in tight,
Fly up and spin around,
Drop to earth from a great height?
Hop on an airplane,
Wear a parachute,
Jump bravely,
Create a new route?
The great lengths some will go,
Simply for a rush of adrenaline,
But what would you do for adrenaline from these?
Misplacing a wallet,
Racing to its last known location,
Discovering a stranger took it,
Wondering if it will ever return home?
Driving placidly along,
Stopping abruptly,
Missing by an inch a hit headlong,
Hoping the car behind will stop?
Why pay hundreds to risk life and limb by diving through the sky, yet do anything to keep one’s wallet?
Both produce adrenaline;
one for free with no risk of life and limb, yet it’s the riskier one,
that’s sought even at great cost!
Perhaps it’s because:
adrenaline is best enjoyed when expected?
Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 6:22 AM UTC
Not many tensions,
nor any excitement
Life has ever been
a placidly flowing river!
Single and free!
Over differences,
never been any disputes
never had to consult,
nor seek consent
Single and free!
but doesn’t his house
with its cold, mildewed air
reflect his heart?
A house so full of things:
a hoard of well stacked books,
exquisitely carved Victorian furniture,
antique collection of curios,
ornate drapery
Yet so full of nothing!
The prim order of the house
never disturbed by naughty hands
nor shuffled by dusty feet
dirtying the Persian carpets
or smudging the glistening floor
The well laid bed covers
never get creased
by the body’s desire
and Love’s tight embrace
and never, they bear
the fragrance of female scent!
Sometimes he would shake
from foot to crown
at a question hurled by
an unknown voice;
“Did you squander away your life?”
Then he recognizes….
he has been a lone traveler
ever walking through
a one way lane
that will wind off
with a few more steps!
If, by chance somewhere
a new track
branches out
he would no more be
a solitary *****
There would be a companion
to hold hands!
Now it is too late!
Apr 29, 2017
Apr 29, 2017 at 12:09 PM UTC
O Divine Matchmaker, pay heed to my plea.
I guard an egress open ajar, crusted by thorns
I guard this world against the odium behind it
I guard this door, not in service, Matchmaker.
My hands, grip on the barbs of this doorway
To keep it ajar, for a glimpse of my remittal;
Of the extant light of my sole soul so brittle,
Anneliese, Blessed with a name so celestial,
Anneliese, Cursed with a burden so menial,
Placidly fostering the lives behind that door.
Anneliese, my only mud-soaked nightingale.
O Divine Matchmaker, answer my quandary.
Am I to serve this world as an eternal Atlas?
Am I to forsake my mud-soaked nightingale?
Is our union ignoble to you, O Matchmaker?
How many unanswered sunsets remain alas?
In distraught, a thousand misereres, I penned
In every breath, I pine to pen a thousand more.
If only I had a drop of ink left…
If only I had a drop of ink left…
Jul 14, 2021
Jul 14, 2021 at 4:10 AM UTC
Feeling the exquisite white grains of sand leaving a footstep behind.
The wonderful creation of sunset in a variety of colors.
A row of beach chairs under the green palm trees.
A ray of sunshine from heavens above.
The blue wide open sea that crashes the waves on shore.
People are sun-kissed.
Oh, how great this summer could be!
I wash and splash my feet on the cool water.
The giggles I hear are the only music to my ears.
I watch the kids laugh while building sand castles and those dainty seashells on their hands.
I sat on the ground feeling the heat.
The boats sailing placidly from afar.
As I close my eyes, I inhale the good air and yes, this is the life I've always wanted to explore.
I grabbed my sandals and walked on the long coast in a silhouette.
The smile on people’s face are priceless.
Different colors and shapes.
God is so good for creating these beautiful people.
The sun goes down, I walk with the crowd.
Beach ornaments lighten my heart.
I watch the twinkling lights hanging from the hotels and restaurants. It was bewitching.
People huddled for the amazing performance of the fire dancers. I was dazzled myself.
Everyone gathered on the shore with drinks on their hand moving their body to the electronic beat.
DJ’s killing the place.
My heart’s hoping for time to slow down.
This place is where I always wanted.
Where I wanted to be.
Friends are gold which I treasure most.
The fun with them will always be the best memory.
Life never gets old on the beach.
Life without summer is a ******
-Adele
5/25/14
Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 6:09 AM UTC
Flowers creek
against the pressure from
The wind,
Subtle melody
Erupting in a
Brilliant burst of
Melancholy. Seldom does the
Breeze go
Noticed. These bones
Will soon begin
To rust, laid
Placidly atop the aching
Blades of grass, soothed only
By the
Chanted promises of
A bitter tongue
Safely lodged within the moist mouth of
Godless head
Of
Thick
Tangled
Hair.
Abrupt reconciliation realigns
The spine as the
Soil remains ever
Inviting.
Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 11:43 PM UTC
the lizards sit cautiously in the sun
as I sit across the lanai grinding placidly
for a word to embellish my journal
they blink and wait for bugs
I sit and write, write and sit
winnowing down the day
wasting time on poetry
oh but what a way
a ******* born in Paradise
sits winding down the day
grinding out more poetry
blinking life away
the lizards sit cautiously
warming in the sun
I sit and write in Paradise
and wait for night to come
I write and sit, sit and write
winding down the day
wasting time on poetry
oh but what a way
originally posted to my blog https://sublimeobscenities.wordpress.com on 4/26/2014
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 1:15 AM UTC
Staying in tune with the balance
Courageously looking into the mind's eye
into all eyes
what is swirling in my limitless expanse?
Recursive Recursive
Tell me your dreams
share in thought
find the silence holding the world's sound
Peace is a pebble in the blinding storm, Pick it up
Fantasy touch Reality
Drive along watch
Find the tower over looking the expanse
climb the mountain high
stare around the expanse until your vision meets the endless horizons
its all out there
globular circle, perpetual motion machine
spinning, flying, tumbling round & round
hurtling at 7 decatillion light years
through time space and beyond
we, these seeming ants along for the ride of our life
space time travelers placidly in our world of chaos adapting,
adaptive shoulder shruggers on a planetary scale
This planetary potential genius to awake in us all
Does the last man come?
What will the over man make of paradise?
Sleepy progenitors, laugh
shake your curly hairy heads
cover yourself with rags if you must,
or Don't!
Are you comfortable in skin?
Do you fathom what is beyond your sensual limits?
***** woman do you know?
Have you found it in your fleshy delights,
the secret invitation for discovery is in every niche, every hole, every fold, every kiss, every caress, every stare, every touch, every smooth slide, fingertips tracing lines of hips, lips, backs, calves, feet, jaw, ear, cheek.
A young lover may know it there, or especially an old, a bucktramp
or the loveliest ***** lady
Label the divine and holy if you must
its all out there waiting and engaging
its here now with you, with us
linking along
the water moves but is constantly there, co arising,
what wave is where
Its all here
chant OM, can you feel it?
Hold that vibration, pulsate with your mouth closed and hum and shout melodically
emitting the vibe
Be the Vibeman.
Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 8:05 PM UTC
While I gaze in your eyes, cool cerulean blue,
Sifting night, straining stars through morning’s sweet dew,
I can fathom the depths of empyreal skies,
Angels fluttering by, riding wild butterflies
While I gaze in your eyes, changing, aqua-blue greening,
I’m ****** into chasms, cascading, careening,
And yield to enticements which meekly disarm,
Seeping virtuous beauty, sad sensuous charm
While I gaze in your eyes, bleeding fiery blue
Ever tempting with treasures, with pleasures for two,
Being caught at the core of a blazing sapphire
Possessing, enthralling, aflame with desire
While I gaze in your eyes, misty emeralds, deep green,
Veiling laughter and banter, and echoes between,
Then I dream, so it seems, in whatever the place,
Of your scent, of your breath, of your radiant face
While I gaze in your eyes, at times placidly blue,
Near’ as calm as the weirs in the woods all bedewed,
Forty winks relegate to a shimmering lake,
Gently floating on lilies, while waiting to wake
While I gaze in your eyes, caught engulfed in the greens
And consigning my fate unto verdant ravines,
My reactions, at length, become shyer and shyer
Reminiscent of ravens at risk in the briar
While I gaze in your eyes, restless, hesitant blues
Overwhelming sensations with turbulent hues,
I’m succumbing to waves of a storm battered sea,
Being cast like a plank, never meant to be free
While I gaze in your eyes, shadowed, Midnight Lake green
Glowing hazy with dreams, misty thoughts so serene,
Sudden silence befalls me, a fast sinking stone,
Looming lost in your eyes, I am never alone
While I gaze in your eyes, saddened, lachrymal blue,
Spilling trickles of rain, pearls obscuring your view,
I’ll attend to your anguish and feelings morose,
Lightly kissing your tears, touching, holding you close
While I gaze in your eyes, pulsing infinite green
Of the earth and of heaven and all in between,
It is simple to see that my hands can hold all
Of the treasures I find which so humbly enthral
While I gaze in your eyes, when they’re bountifully blue,
I’m reminded, love’s lightning is granted to few...
While I gaze in your eyes, when they’re blindingly green,
I’m reminded, love’s lightning cannot be foreseen...
Yet I hope... and I wait...
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 6:26 PM UTC
Dear...
This haphazard poem was written solely for you
Matterless, what you came garbed in
Fever elicited, passion anew
You’ve graced me, the repetition of ‘could-have-been’
I loved the way you speak
Of knowledge and triumph
And I, bumbling and meek
Tirelessly I sought and now still seek
Your council, your court
For my amusement, for my sport
Conversing over a poisoned well
I listen in genuine
Raise my voice
Sing with my friends amongst the din
Higher on the pillar, you I hoist
Pure skin my well intentioned hands mar
Clumsily, I lean into a similar heart
To discuss life and literature, fantasies these hands take too far
How eloquent the silk you weave, which you impart
Which inveigles and entices, cajole us into the city
On pale page, the street lamps and dim moon, art
Palpitations and liquor test the pity
Of light and fire
I cannot help but explore your shapely form
And yet, without bar
Across miasma, my guide is a cute little hand
Solitude, the pulsations do doggedly solicit
I just want to be close, you grant this
Bewitched by the creamy satin of pale skin
Distantly, warmly, I gaze in those God-given sculptures
Of the richest green and azure hues, bespeak feminine
Engaged in the other’s stare, two drunken apers
The night, black as sin,
The mould of outcome of we are the shapers
And I shape regret that rises with the sun
You come back vividly and lucidly
Distant and opposite, worlds across, you from me
A nondescript ghost in the corner
Who speaks so placidly
I remember with regret
I remember with exultation
I’ve ruined our relationship
Our relationship topical felicitation
I haven’t had time to apologize
I haven’t had enough time with you
If I ever see you again
I’d mend everything
I’d discover the girl behind the name
And cleanse the projection askew.
Love, Me
Dear... .
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 12:10 PM UTC
Bristles, glide delicately...
over cold refuse.
Random bits,
of detritus:
and your broom devours them,
indiscriminate
a placidly lurking monster,
with an unchoosy palette.
It's almost a mindless,
shuffling dance,
with failure, for a willing partner,
while regret, lingers sulkily,
in a dark corner of the room,
and watches the two of you
locked,
in a very forced
minuet.
The world feels like it's over,
and every brush stroke, feels
like its own humdrum ending.
Then,
all at once,
when you least expect it, to
your agitated trash ,
lifts its papery little wings,
takes flight,
and flutters gently away,
in a storm of linen,
beige, and white.
The faintest flicker of hope,
rises, from the discard pile:
a wildcard moth
seeking its own, besotted flare,
of quavering torchlight.
Jul 15, 2025
Jul 15, 2025 at 9:56 AM UTC
Penguins painted pink,
peacefully practising pragmatic pebble placement.
Perfectly pointy piles, please!
Profoundly pious Pandas ponder pancreatic problems,
predict potential palsy.
Prognosis? Perilously poor.
Pale porpoises proudly plunge purple pools,
placidly pasturing petrified plankton.
Poor protozoans perish.
Portly, paunchy, plumpish, porcine, porky pigs
populate putrid puddles,
Pulverizing pumpkin pies.
Purposely Prickly porcupines pursue palatable plants,
pin-pointing precisely.
Puce petunias preferred.
Pill popping puppet people perpetuate planetary perdition,
pardon profuse pollution.
Pretentious ******
Sep 4, 2019
Sep 4, 2019 at 11:22 PM UTC
Sometimes I feel like those who
Aren’t overwhelmed
Aren’t tired and broken down
Aren’t hunched and encumbered
Those who can breathe without
Feeling a tightness that strangles
An immensity that fills the heart
With shadowy, sorrowful tangles
They must not be listening
Must have sheathed their eyes
Within the blackest, sight-denying blinders
Or else resigned to a myopic gaze
Yes, they must have made
Some unconscious decision to don
The enduring armor of ignorance
Deftly designed to repel the obvious
Forged in the fires of whimsied romance
Of furtive fairy tales in which
The protagonist, hero, heroine, the revered
The beautiful, the admired,
And all their supporting characters
Are agents of nothing
Sometimes I feel that in the stories of the free
In the mythology of respiting privilege
There is only one antagonist
Against which said armor does protect
He is truth
He is compassion
She is courage and love
She is feeling and thought
He is meaning and substance and matter itself
So, take heart, my armored many
For, it seems to me, your villain
Is nearly dead
I have the utmost faith
That each of you will do your parts
Will walk with your heads down
To your dramatic destinations
Will ignore the journey, the repercussions,
And every longing bystander
Yes, you will merrily spend, and sell,
And buy, and sell and sell
You will straightforwardly tread
Over the downtrodden with your feeling-less feet
Your blind eyes will roll about
Inside their numbing sockets
Your deafened ears will placidly bypass
The rhythms of opportunity and intuition
Your made-up mouths and raised noses
Will vivaciously avoid
The fruits of feeling, the pains of principle,
And the arduous trials of belief
In one’s fellow man
Upon the hour of final victory
I will write of epitaph and eulogy.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 7:04 PM UTC
Deranged and misplaced in a world of deceit Morals fade as hypocrisy defeats your belief Profound thoughts pleading for sanity die at the words of those around me Deprived of sleep and affection in an apathetic state of depression Drenched in hate and separated from truth I hid in my mind The darkest place I’ve ever been was my own mind Light abandoned in the background died down and I fell in the shadows
Obscurities in desolate caverns tortured my sanity Drained of life my soul found comfort with demons I created in my heart Alone in nostalgia I created beliefs that made sense to a mad man and accepted them gladly An immense loathing for happiness and a mind fixated on destroying all things pure The light was murdered never to be seen again gone forever and drowning in sin Filled with blood blacker than night and a mind too sadistic for the world My body was armour filled with a demon
Placidly screaming for freedom chaos followed me as night does the day The mind is gone and the body is a shell weaker than self-control I teased myself with I was a plaything for evil sitting in the depths of my own Hell Constructing complications that have never even seen life my mind was deceived I took pleasure in hate and anarchy and perceived love to be a lie The outside seemed dejected and the inside was infected with insanity conjured from demons My soul fled to recess formed by blades of hate
Chains forged in the lake of fire bound me to my own pathetic sub conscious Lost in the dark, searching for intellectual reasoning I quit…. All was dull… Hate and Evil became boring... Love and compassion was long extinct There was nothing left, my soul remained but as purposeless as the body it inhabited Incoherent and abandoned, forsaken by none yet all in my judgment I was below mankind and became prey for the living dead My soul altered into physical animosity The pleasures of the world were miserable Light avoided me and persons overlooked me My body lay, rotting, praying for an escape but death would be an imprisonment of solitude The concept of Hell was ravishing and the indication of pain was tempting Blood of my body paints the earth from crawling towards an end.. Would there be an end? Surely none are as wretched as I… I say cremate the wretched. Praying for Hell from the Almighty God who knows all perspectives yet offers a choice
God creates us with a voice to be heard yet he knows the outcome Therefore wouldn’t be crafting souls to be hurt?
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 12:02 PM UTC
As it sit, here on peninsulas
extensions into oceans,
tides that drag, pixelating
parameters opening
to peering places,
my eyes squint
at blurred horizons;
everywhere horizoning,
circumferencing me
in swirls of cataleptic cinnamon
(you know, that pop cultured
coalescence of sensation)
And while I swim
through these streams and unconscious rivers,
on peninsulas (of dust)
placidly pouring soft summer rain
onto concrete souls like treacle on crumpets,
it occurs to me that
we are just madness becoming
into something astonishing
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 8:02 AM UTC
The grey blots, they shiver across the white dawn
Mist cloaking the echoes of creaking birch trees
The cold silver smoke floats above the chilled pond
Which ripples, and placidly swims with the breeze
The grey ink, it spills and it wets the white sky
Now dripping the icy wet shivering beads.
The winds push away the cool fog, pinpricks fly
And cling to light cobwebs and shudd'ring green leaves
The black ink's soaked up by the grumbling high seas
The static and glass flicker down to the ground
The trees bend and flail in the whistling rip, seized
The pond is alive with wet ripples of sound
Black dawn crashes down as it rages with fire
Red flashes on darkness, they shriek and they scream
It wails like sirens, the birch trees so tired
Too bent, bruised, and broken to hold at the seams
I'd pick up and leave to go find that good home
Out there, somewhere near, it is golden and warm
Too heavy's my heart for the forest I've known
For those thrashing birches must suffer the storm
In sanctified soil, they've rooted and grown
They never could linger from where they were born
The sky's now torn open, the world is no more
But the trees, rooted firmly still wait out the storm.
Mar 26, 2011
Mar 26, 2011 at 3:15 PM UTC
He sang the echo of life
for fishes that blow bubbles
or whales that wave their tails
he breathes the salty air
and touch the sun's gentle kiss
*she's stuck beneath the surface
empty, with pieces missing
she lives inside of him,
sailing placidly until she died
how tragic is her life,
wanting to be free
wanting to explore every inch of him
wanting to be whole again
she is just a sunken ship
whose remains will never be found*
and he is the majestic sea
waiting for the next ship to come.
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 1:58 AM UTC
Sleepless dreaming -
Where slumber does not lead to
vision does not lead to
nightmare or wonder.
Unreal City -
Where each headstone,
covered in moss
and shrouded by fern,
sharply reads:
"THE HORROR! THE HORROR!"
And those whose souls
still cling to their withering bodies
speak so placidly about The Buried:
"Oh, Mistah ___________________? He dead."
Sleepless dreaming.
Where cities crumble into the ocean
and giants buckle at the knees, yelling:
"Shantih! Shantih! Shantih!
"Oh Lord, where is The Peace
that passes all understanding?"*
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 12:16 AM UTC
Irene-Spring
Like
The spring
Thy radiance
Has befallen at sunrise
On all,but pulchritudinous flowers
And in reverence for thy elegance
They spin their colors so brightly
And beguile butterflies from motley races
Together,
Like a choir,
They croon sweet birthday melodies
Penciled on petals and sepals
Thy
Benign breeze
Prance on all surfaces
Of the earth,
And
At sunshine
It poise on the wild waves
And placidly vault their prowess
To sack ;then obligatory
They croon sweet birthday melodies
Penciled on the golden sands
At twilight
Even the vehement volcanoes
Clad themselves with serenity
With thy presence
And croon sweet birthday melodies
Penciled on the hearts of molten rocks
But
When darkness
Finally succumb twilight
Will moonlight invade their shacks
And allow the nightgale
Croon sweet melodies of birthday
Penciled on the slates of branches for thee
HAPPY BIRTHDAY SWEET HEART
IRENE-SPRING
©HISTORIAN E.LEXANO
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 2:57 AM UTC