"plighted" poems
Needle, needle, dip and dart,
Thrusting up and down,
Where's the man could ease a heart
Like a satin gown?
See the stitches curve and crawl
Round the cunning seams--
Patterns thin and sweet and small
As a lady's dreams.
Wantons go in bright brocade;
Brides in organdie;
Gingham's for the plighted maid;
Satin's for the free!
Wool's to line a miser's chest;
Crepe's to calm the old;
Velvet hides an empty breast
Satin's for the bold!
Lawn is for a bishop's yoke;
Linen's for a nun;
Satin is for wiser folk--
Would the dress were done!
Satin glows in candlelight--
Satin's for the proud!
They will say who watch at night,
"What a fine shroud!"
4k
I envy not in any moods
The captive void of noble rage,
The linnet born within the cage,
That never knew the summer woods:
I envy not the beast that takes
His license in the field of time,
Unfetter'd by the sense of crime,
Nor, what may count itself as blest,
The heart that never plighted troth
But stagnates in the weeds of sloth;
Nor any want-begotten rest.
I hold it true, whate'er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.
3.2k
I'll seek refuge in places that don't hold my name to be true, and even in emptiness I remain wrought through heavy handed tones of antipathy
Echoes of resolute desire plea with somber empathy, but remain indefinitely beyond the horizon of which I can not seek - and I shall remain waiting for something that has yet to come, for good it seems..
It rings barren any semblance of genuineness, the shadows I fall under; in plighted qualms, through quarreled teeth; without strength to hold my own, my very soul becomes the ground with which they walk
Desolation is the staunch friend from which I may not doubt will never be there in my time of need; and what I truly need, I fear, will never set foot upon my gaze
Like a sullen rose barred behind a glass wall, bereft of life giving nutrients and slowly wilting away one pedal at a time: I'll solemnly gaze upon the last glimmer of hope what was once profound and pure, now gripped with agony, and sin; decaying, alone, forever out of reach with only my eyes and heart to embrace it, yet never once again know what it may feel like to hold close with my own flesh
I am surrounded by an unspoken emptiness; an infinite abyss in every direction, except forward - and to each footstep I hear an echo of its past, one more inch beyond itself and gone before the last moments incur what hollow life is left within
Each passing moment brings me further to the edge of the unknown, this hope that's guided me for this long has burned like an eternal candle, now wisping what light is left to bear before me
One step more, and into the embracing darkness I will fall unto
The cries of war are beginning to recess; the battle has ceased, and I am still without a place to call home
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 1:58 AM UTC
Thank you Galileo for tilting up at their sky,
as the bull, crab, and ****** sent caution from thought
to the flat dirt umbrelled by musing why,
''or a fire of stone from an old hellish plot''
Sinners will crumble like a drum to a wall.
Glints of knife scratches shall drop from their clouds,
while Libris will beckon to the vowels of the tall.
Your protest shall quiver to madness aloud.
Plighted in brick, left to whince to your game,
the branders, hatassers preach love and then die,
but the truth of their lie only whispers exclaim.
Thank you Galileo for releasing this sky.
Apr 7, 2010
Apr 7, 2010 at 7:58 AM UTC
The ring is on my hand,
And the wreath is on my brow;
Satins and jewels grand
Are all at my command.
And I am happy now.
And my lord he loves me well;
But, when first he breathed his vow,
I felt my ***** swell—
For the words rang as a knell,
And the voice seemed his who fell
In the battle down the dell,
And who is happy now.
But he spoke to reassure me,
And he kissed my pallid brow,
While a reverie came o’er me,
And to the churchyard bore me,
And I sighed to him before me,
Thinking him dead D’Elormie,
“Oh, I am happy now!”
And thus the words were spoken,
And thus the plighted vow,
And, though my faith be broken,
And, though my heart be broken,
Behold the golden keys
That proves me happy now!
Would to God I could awaken
For I dream I know not how,
And my soul is sorely shaken
Lest an evil step be taken,—
Lest the dead who is forsaken
May not be happy now.
2k
I envy not in any moods
The captive void of noble rage,
The linnet born within the cage,
That never knew the summer woods:
I envy not the beast that takes
His license in the field of time,
Unfetter'd by the sense of crime,
To whom a conscience never wakes;
Nor, what may count itself as blest,
The heart that never plighted troth
But stagnates in the weeds of sloth;
Nor any want-begotten rest.
I hold it true, whate'er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.
1.4k
We two were lovers, the Sea and I;
We plighted our troth ‘neath a summer sky.
And all through the riotous ardent weather
We dreamed, and loved, and rejoiced together.
* * *
At times my lover would rage and storm.
I said: ‘No matter, his heart is warm.’
Whatever his humour, I loved his ways,
And so we lived though the golden days.
I know not the manner it came about,
But in the autumn we two fell out.
Yet this I know – ‘twas the fault of the Sea,
And was not my fault, that he changed to me.
* * *
I lingered as long as a woman may
To find what her lover will do or say.
But he met my smiles with a sullen frown,
And so I turned to the wooing Town.
Oh, bold was this suitor, and blithe as bold!
His look was as bright as the Sea’s was cold.
As the Sea was sullen, the Town was gay;
He made me forget for a winter day.
For a winter day and a winter night
He laughed my sorrow away from sight.
And yet, in spite of his mirth and cheer,
I knew full well he was insincere.
And when the young buds burst on the tree,
The old love woke in my heart for the Sea.
Pride was forgotten – I knew, I knew,
That the soul of the Sea, like my own, was true.
I heard him calling, and lo! I came,
To find him waiting, for ever the same.
And when he saw me, with murmurs sweet
He ran to meet me, and fell at my feet.
And so again ‘neath the summer sky
We have plighted our troth, the Sea and I.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 10:07 AM UTC
My love has talk'd with rocks and trees;
He finds on misty mountain-ground
His own vast shadow glory-crown'd;
He sees himself in all he sees.
Two partners of a married life--
I look'd on these and thought of thee
In vastness and in mystery,
And of my spirit as of a wife.
These two--they dwelt with eye on eye,
Their hearts of old have beat in tune,
Their meetings made December June,
Their every parting was to die.
Their love has never past away;
The days she never can forget
Are earnest that he loves her yet,
Whate'er the faithless people say.
Her life is lone, he sits apart,
He loves her yet, she will not weep,
Tho' rapt in matters dark and deep
He seems to slight her simple heart.
He thrids the labyrinth of the mind,
He reads the secret of the star,
He seems so near and yet so far,
He looks so cold: she thinks him kind.
She keeps the gift of years before,
A wither'd violet is her bliss:
She knows not what his greatness is,
For that, for all, she loves him more.
For him she plays, to him she sings
Of early faith and plighted vows;
She knows but matters of the house,
And he, he knows a thousand things.
Her faith is fixt and cannot move,
She darkly feels him great and wise,
She dwells on him with faithful eyes,
'I cannot understand: I love.'
1.1k
If I were a sweet wizard,
I will apparate by your side right now.
If I were a nursing wizard,
I will wave a hand to heal you.
If I were a guard wizard,
You will not be afraid of any lizard.
If I were a romantic wizard,
I will write the sweetest words you want to read.
If I were a Godly wizard,
I will bring back your Consciousness.
If I were a complete wizard,
You will not be so sad.
But you are sad as I ain't a wizard,
Not even a professional success.
You are plighted with miseries,
Not filled with dreamy happiness.
Since I am not an older woman,
You can never aptly find your mother in me.
As you are sad now,
I feel so worthless.
But trust me, my Dear Future Wife,
I will definitely make it up to you.
I will pamper you like your mum,
But only if you feel my love, Dear.
May 29, 2018
May 29, 2018 at 9:26 PM UTC
I fill my days with pointless clutter,
bits and bobs, and nevertheless,
My head alive with constant flutter,
(marring softly to surpress)
Is still in streaks of wonders utter,
breathing, blinking and even less,
Plighted to a world another,
a starving corner he cannot bless
Dec 26, 2009
Dec 26, 2009 at 5:39 PM UTC
I envy not in any moods
The captive void of noble rage,
The linnet born within the cage,
That never knew the summer woods:
I envy not the beast that takes
His license in the field of time,
Unfetter'd by the sense of crime,
To whom a conscience never wakes;
Nor, what may count itself as blest,
The heart that never plighted troth
But stagnates in the weeds of sloth;
Nor any want-begotten rest.
I hold it true, whate'er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 2:32 PM UTC
In well wishes 'nd afters,
As if rested: souls asunder,
A heartful of me spares;
a few lips of vexing pecks.
A token to call me by,
A reminder to return to:
"It's a sign of love."
Over days and years,
in this corner of mine;
left for after are kisses:
A plighted; every three.
A token to call me by,
A reminder to return to:
**"And I hint selfishness;
It is my sign of love."**
And for yours I await.
Sep 30, 2017
Sep 30, 2017 at 5:00 PM UTC
I knew it the first of the summer,
I knew it the same at the end,
That you and your love were plighted,
But couldn’t you be my friend?
Couldn’t we sit in the twilight,
Couldn’t we walk on the shore
With only a pleasant friendship
To bind us, and nothing more?
There was not a word of folly
Spoken between us two,
Though we lingered oft in the garden
Till the roses were wet with dew.
We touched on a thousand subjects—
The moon and the worlds above,—
And our talk was tinctured with science,
And everything else, save love.
A wholly Platonic friendship
You said I had proven to you
Could bind a man and a woman
The whole long season through,
With never a thought of flirting,
Though both were in their youth
What would you have said, my lady,
If you had known the truth!
What would you have done, I wonder,
Had I gone on my knees to you
And told you my passionate story,
There in the dusk and the dew?
My burning, burdensome story,
Hidden and hushed so long—
My story of hopeless loving—
Say, would you have thought it wrong?
But I fought with my heart and conquered,
I hid my wound from sight;
You were going away in the morning,
And I said a calm good-night.
But now when I sit in the twilight,
Or when I walk by the sea
That friendship, quite Platonic,
Comes surging over me.
And a passionate longing fills me
For the roses, the dusk, the dew;
For the beautiful summer vanished,
For the moonlight walks—and you
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 1:31 PM UTC
Keats swooned over a world that never was, except in dreams, and I've no use for that.
(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCLXIII)
In lieu of aught we know: blue skies t'avail
Sans blot of clouds 'til puddles mirror thence
Heavn's eye...take up the chalice to drink hence
That fragrant draught which yields as if to scale
More heady visions than we've drunk, t'exhale
Like sailors on the faerie seas, pretense
Our dainty meat; as lovers swoon for sense
Oer plighted troth, not as we know; sans bail.
Go into raptures likeas Keats would stir
And Byron knew to write, as Shelley drew
Up in his Ode, faint cuz ye know in tour
What minstrels sang in ballads, weaving to
Effect those silken strands to snare souls fer
The Devil's heights. Cuz what we have won't do.
11Mar19c
Mar 12, 2019
Mar 12, 2019 at 1:24 AM UTC
Once bound in steel inviolable
repression bands are soon unlocked
when influenced by passions rule
which previously firm pride forbade.
Already drawn to fully span
the sadness sloughed and soon replaced
to manifest the plighted faith
by novelty of love’s first bite.
Dec 24, 2018
Dec 24, 2018 at 9:42 AM UTC