"purposefulness" poems
Poem of prosy
I am so sorry
to relay this story
of ending glory
knowing
your suspenseful stories
await my attentions.
Your suspenseful showy
purposefulness I feel,
I do!
I read and write and breathe
and cry!
Just as you.
I slay dragons daily,
carry princesses away,
I live in castles
like you!
I walk every word wearily,
or crawl away , but always go forward.
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 2:50 AM UTC
I yearn for the blade, for the cold steel to pierce my skin and let the blood flow,
I yearn for the blade, for the comfort that only it can provide even if it is only short lived,
I yearn for the blade, for the purposefulness it makes me feel the purposefulness that I know I don’t possess,
I yearn for the blade, for the sparkling red tint it gains when it emerges from my flesh,
I yearn for the blade, for the release of everything that only it can provide, the release of emotions and anger so long bottled up,
I yearn for the blade, for the first the last and every cut in between,
I yearn for the blade, for the point to make one last mark, a mark that will end it all,
I yearn for the blade, for the steel to wash it all away, all the pain, sadness and anger until nothing is left just memories of someone long gone,
I yearn for the blade, for one last night looking at the sky, to end it all,
Jun 23, 2017
Jun 23, 2017 at 9:09 AM UTC
Seldom have I seen such strength, such purposefulness shown
And I have witnessed many who have made their message known,
Immovable this woman stands in seas of raging tide
Where friend and foe, as challengers, she’s deftly swept aside.
Resolute she stands atop white cliffs of blazing chalk
To glare across the Channel where her predecessors stalked
In league with Winston Churchill with pugnacious jawline set
When he thrashed the fiend in Jackboots and field grey appuletes.
In league with Margaret Thatcher with that glint of grey in eyes
To the accolades of Gorbachev who recognised the prize.
In league with Boadecia the ghost of power past
Who rallied this great nation to fight on to the last.
Snapping at her ankles the dogs of turmoil writhe
And comrades of another time amass to criticise,
Labourites howl murderously to all who would take heed
While the rabble rousing Europeans joust to intercede.
Swirling round her skirts they mass now screaming their abuse
At her articulated message of a pathway less obtuse.
If Tony Blair had the ***** it’s to her side he’d dance
As would Jeremy Corbett but of that there’s little chance,
Her Majesty stands forthright, as do all her heirs
Including Will and Harry who are cheering from the stairs.
Dianna’s there in spirit plus the Kiwis from the pub
And the rough crowd from the chippie all dolled up with a scrub.
She needs ALL of you behind her in her struggle for the best,
Independence for Great Britain is ascendancy’s great quest.
The very heart of what It means to dwell within these shores
The very heart of what it means to be Brittish to the core.
England, Scotland, Ireland, Wales combining for the task
Of a guarantee of future from the quagmire of the past.
We SHALL stand behind Teresa May and make our voices heard
As we scream aloud the anthem to impart our final word….
RULE BRITANNIA,
BRITTANIA RULE THE WAVES
BRITAIN NEVER, NEVER EVER…
SHALL BE SLAVES!
Boom, boom, boom
RULE BRITANNIA,
BRITANNIA RULE THE WAVES
BRITAIN NEVER, NEVER EVER….
SHALL BE SLAVES!
M.
18 December 2018
Dec 17, 2018
Dec 17, 2018 at 6:33 PM UTC
Roads taken are not always perfectly laid out.
Some do not have markers.
Intersections do not indicate the direction with most promise.
When we are faced with obstacles
Smooth out the imperfections.
The hard work comes from solely our own determination.
Understand when we should cut and turn back
When to press on.
We may stumble, we may fall.
A little bit of perseverance
and faith to reach some destinations.
I have found that, once reached,
the journey was worth its sweat.
Earned by grit, guts, and purposefulness.
Satisfaction of will.
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 1:14 AM UTC
Eternally perform--
Create a role,
Practicing the dreams
Of a life
Recalled, a heart which contours a **** grounded
Reality, it's on rendition,
The original--enduring.
A heart played in full reflects
Revolutionary works, purposefulness,
and at the same time,
A place in Art.
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 8:49 PM UTC
The written word.
What does it mean?
Does the truth really lie here?
Soul bearing…how do you know?
Does this show us what is really in our soul?
Could this be the ground truth? The bottom line?
Could this be me and you in the kaleidoscope of life?
The “oh my god why didn’t I see it before?” revelation.
To go without writing would be like going without breathing.
For in writing there is oxygen in the form of nouns and adjectives.
There is a needed purposefulness that can only be replaced with….
Well nothing can replace this. My companion, my friend, my air, my writing.
Mar 3, 2012
Mar 3, 2012 at 4:03 AM UTC
O mother dear of this my life
you were more to me like a wife
as we lived together for a while
after dad had died and in style.
We went just about everywhere together
though it depended much on the weather.
And the fact that I was more reclusive
meant that it was hard to be inclusive.
Ours was a supremely chaste interdependence
which worked well to the point of transcendance.
Although I was the son and you were the mother
I would often give advice like a husband and father.
You had various problems with your health
but this did not undermine spiritual wealth.
There were certain things that you would more or less ignore
due to a stubborn habitual independence that I would implore.
I tried to enhance your life and give you much more
rather than take anything away out of nature’s store.
And when that was stiffled with outside interference
the end result being one of a regretful ill occurence.
You lived to the ripe old age of eighty eight
and in all you did you were never really late.
You would try to help one and all in your own way
and people would look up to you and kind words say.
A very resourceful lady and one with a certain skill
you tried your hand at many things and the time fill.
I would often marvel as to how you got everything done
with a single minded purposefulness you ignored none.
Now gone is the lady of the house
who played the part of a spouse
and all that we used or shared together
is now idle at the mercy of the weather.
But her love still guides me in my heart
and urges me on daily to play the part
in doing the things that she would like me to do
even though she’s gone by doing to remain true.
_______________________________________
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 12:09 AM UTC
darting eyes behind ten year old screens,
hiding indirectly in directing slights of hand
as if confronting demons would ****
self worthlessness of purposefulness
and destroys the steam of e,
while everything crashes,
to the infinite, singularity of everything
that is in each note spoken out
and sweetly sung out of the universe
seen right in front of me
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 9:03 PM UTC
Nonentity to Fulfilment!
Obscurity to Clarity
Aimless to purposefulness!
Hopelessness to Dreaming….
I walked from there to here!
In a journey that you walked also before we meet!
Walked slowly… in fear…with pain…hand in hand with despair…
Walked of the road… lost and in silence…
Angry from everything and everyone…
Angry of myself!
Walked in noises and my heart not around!
walked in….
and
I have faith in that we all fall and we all recover…
And
I saw Ego died in R1 and “All/we” reborn.
And
I felt dreams came true in life…
And
I sensed authenticity shining in those faces I love… shining in eyes without words!!!
And
That is the faith that keep us Unique!
I am A hippo!
I am HAP…. Hippo And Proud!
Apr 13, 2018
Apr 13, 2018 at 11:08 AM UTC
the screen empty lids behind my fatigued seeing eyes
sore from the blue fluorescence, trying to fill a void
desire to push myself to be functionally aware about my mortal coil
my sweet grief-stricken circumstance that is life
movement is opioid for the limp limbs of existence, trying oh so hard
here I lay
empty as an cracked eggshell
thrown in a filthy metal drum
where is my purposefulness
my proper shot at this path
the lead heavy laden head of my spiral
ties me down to the faux softness
begging for some warmth
Mar 16, 2020
Mar 16, 2020 at 8:44 PM UTC