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"quenchless" poems
Farewell, false love, the oracle of lies, A mortal foe and enemy to rest, An envious boy, from whom all cares arise, A ******* vile, a beast with rage possessed, A way of error, a temple full of treason, In all effects contrary unto reason. A poisoned serpent covered all with flowers, Mother of sighs, and murderer of repose, A sea of sorrows whence are drawn such showers As moisture lend to every grief that grows; A school of guile, a net of deep deceit, A gilded hook that holds a poisoned bait. A fortress foiled, which reason did defend, A siren song, a fever of the mind, A maze wherein affection finds no end, A raging cloud that runs before the wind, A substance like the shadow of the sun, A goal of grief for which the wisest run. A quenchless fire, a nurse of trembling fear, A path that leads to peril and mishap, A true retreat of sorrow and despair, An idle boy that sleeps in pleasure’s lap, A deep mistrust of that which certain seems, A hope of that which reason doubtful deems. Sith then thy trains my younger years betrayed, And for my faith ingratitude I find; And sith repentance hath my wrongs bewrayed, Whose course was ever contrary to kind: False love, desire, and beauty frail, adieu. Dead is the root whence all these fancies grew.
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A Farewell To False Love
Is it thy will that I should wax and wane, Barter my cloth of gold for hodden grey, And at thy pleasure weave that web of pain Whose brightest threads are each a wasted day? Is it thy will—Love that I love so well— That my Soul’s House should be a tortured spot Wherein, like evil paramours, must dwell The quenchless flame, the worm that dieth not? Nay, if it be thy will I shall endure, And sell ambition at the common mart, And let dull failure be my vestiture, And sorrow dig its grave within my heart. Perchance it may be better so—at least I have not made my heart a heart of stone, Nor starved my boyhood of its goodly feast, Nor walked where Beauty is a thing unknown. Many a man hath done so; sought to fence In straitened bonds the soul that should be free, Trodden the dusty road of common sense, While all the forest sang of liberty, Not marking how the spotted hawk in flight Passed on wide pinion through the lofty air, To where some steep untrodden mountain height Caught the last tresses of the Sun God’s hair. Or how the little flower he trod upon, The daisy, that white-feathered shield of gold, Followed with wistful eyes the wandering sun Content if once its leaves were aureoled. But surely it is something to have been The best beloved for a little while, To have walked hand in hand with Love, and seen His purple wings flit once across thy smile. Ay! though the gorged asp of passion feed On my boy’s heart, yet have I burst the bars, Stood face to face with Beauty, known indeed The Love which moves the Sun and all the stars!
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Apologia
Is it thy will that I should wax and wane, Barter my cloth of gold for hodden grey, And at thy pleasure weave that web of pain Whose brightest threads are each a wasted day? Is it thy will—Love that I love so well— That my Soul’s House should be a tortured spot Wherein, like evil paramours, must dwell The quenchless flame, the worm that dieth not? Nay, if it be thy will I shall endure, And sell ambition at the common mart, And let dull failure be my vestiture, And sorrow dig its grave within my heart. Perchance it may be better so—at least I have not made my heart a heart of stone, Nor starved my boyhood of its goodly feast, Nor walked where Beauty is a thing unknown. Many a man hath done so; sought to fence In straitened bonds the soul that should be free, Trodden the dusty road of common sense, While all the forest sang of liberty, Not marking how the spotted hawk in flight Passed on wide pinion through the lofty air, To where some steep untrodden mountain height Caught the last tresses of the Sun God’s hair. Or how the little flower he trod upon, The daisy, that white-feathered shield of gold, Followed with wistful eyes the wandering sun Content if once its leaves were aureoled. But surely it is something to have been The best beloved for a little while, To have walked hand in hand with Love, and seen His purple wings flit once across thy smile. Ay! though the gorged asp of passion feed On my boy’s heart, yet have I burst the bars, Stood face to face with Beauty, known indeed The Love which moves the Sun and all the stars!
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Menopausal women gather under the tall elms in a green sward of cooling breezes Nearby the rushing river is so a-tonally melodic now As they forgive their ignorances, their mistakes Their dilatory dreams, their half-steps that backlashed Their quenchless unseen fire now the consoling measure of their days of their secret songs knowing for those who need, nothing dies
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Apr 3, 2016
Apr 3, 2016 at 12:19 AM UTC
BALLAD OF THE MENOPAUSAL WOMEN
I miss you I miss everything about you There was an intimacy swollen in my heart But has faded in your eyes But my love is strongest,purest I shall never forget How much I loved you and love you still. Your smile touches the deepest corners of my heart There was a time, when i knew I was yours but that has also passed. How can I forget the sparkle on the ***** of your laughter The magic in your eyes The ticklish banter. How I wish time froze and I was forever yours Till the sun goes down Till the stars all die Till the gleam of the moon does never flood the sky. You may never know How you have arrested my whole Perhaps you shall never see and never know the abyss of my longing- an quenchless fire deep below. But till the tide of time embraces the last grain of sand Till autumn's last leaf is swept away from land Till our entwined souls meekly to faith surrender I will love you true Forever and ever.
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Apr 20, 2012
Apr 20, 2012 at 11:11 PM UTC
Unforgettable
Written here lies Death Stolen from thorny bed To ohcre hills supreme Listen, Hark his corny scream. Where ist thy rest Thy nest Thou bubonic plague Thou quenchless drought Thou fierant rage Speaks silent midst of hill Least silent under my windowsill Aught but light takes this cheery gill Not Death’s wide spread Despite it’s fevered ill In many minds doth overtake In simple minds, an earthquake. But gathered in our princely arms.. Big F You to these ailing qualms.
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Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 11:50 PM UTC
Written here lies Death
Self contamination charred an insurgent heart, A soul's frail remnants combatively desecrate. Fading to nothingness, his being a mere hull, Wailing goes unheard in this putrid hollow den. The air's stench reflective of a fowl sordid life. Insatiable quenchless greed paired with vainglory Gives rise to full-scale fated annihilation, Detachment and desolation seize sanity. Obscurely repressed memories randomly flash, Shadows appear and ill willed voices resonate. Through mad distorted conceptualization, He envisions himself stepping out of his doom. Delusional thoughts provoke him to attempt flight, Somehow elude his inevitable demise... Yet enfeeblement proves to be victorious, Powerless to climb he resigns to the darkness.......
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Sep 13, 2016
Sep 13, 2016 at 12:28 AM UTC
The Downfall of Rapacious Desire
Shadower of the valley, dying of wisdom-- strung along since seven holes played the Charmer's flute. The licentiousness of your poetry, makes days of worship drag along, inspiring idleness in all its wickedness. Leveler of leagues, unlikely elbows falling together in deeds. You freeze a whorled dance in the hollowed trunk of a tree, to wait out the world you impel. Forever retiring to the terrible weight of its foundation, having had the gall to drink its basest, bitterest secretion. Poison by any, and no other name...quenchless blows by the scepter of you in deserted time. As the truth be hidden in plain sight, so they to you for salvation.
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Mar 17, 2017
Mar 17, 2017 at 12:22 PM UTC
Serpens No.2
Shining light. The light of inquiry. Small vivid, yet hopelessly inadequate. Light. Reflections into the quenchless striking black. Walking the shadowy void. Flashing lights. Searching. Searching for answers, meaning. Truth. Looking to learn. What’s seen, minuscule meaningless. Truth seeking beyond scope. Beyond seekers comprehension. Life! Fools errand. Sisyphean in nature, crunching Infinity’s realm. Nonetheless, undaunted pressing on.
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Mar 17, 2022
Mar 17, 2022 at 8:25 AM UTC
Shining