"rav" poems - Hello Poetry

The Rav of Northern White Russia declined, in his youth, to learn the language of birds, because the extraneous did not interest him; nevertheless when he grew old it was found he understood them anyway, having listened well, and as it is said, 'prayed with the bench and the floor.' He used what was at hand--as did Angel Jones of Mold, whose meditations were sewn into coats and britches. Well, I would like to make, thinking some line still taut between me and them, poems direct as what the birds said, hard as a floor, sound as a bench, mysterious as the silence when the tailor would pause with his needle in the air.

0

2.9k

Denise Levertov

Illustrious Ancestors

The Rav of Northern White Russia declined, in his youth, to learn the language of birds, because the extraneous did not interest him; nevertheless when he grew old it was found he understood them anyway, having listened well, and as it is said, 'prayed with the bench and the floor.' He used what was at hand--as did Angel Jones of Mold, whose meditations were sewn into coats and britches. Well, I would like to make, thinking some line still taut between me and them, poems direct as what the birds said, hard as a floor, sound as a bench, mysterious as the silence when the tailor would pause with his needle in the air.

18

**We shall see the desert as the rose, Walking in the King's highway; There"ll be singing where salvation goes, Walking in the king's highway, We shall see the glory of the Lord, Walking in the king's highway, And behold the beauty of His Word, Walking in the king's highway, There the rain shall come upon the ground, Walking in the king's highway, And the springs of water will be found, Walking in the king's highway, There no rav'nous beast shall make afraid, Walking in the king's highway, For the purified the way is made, Walking in the king's highway, No unclean thing shall pass o'er here, Walking in the king's highway, But the ransom'd ones without a fear, Walking in the king's highway,**

0

Feb 29, 2016

Feb 29, 2016 at 11:03 AM UTC

jimmy-hegan

WE SHALL SEE THE DESERT AS THE ROSE

20

I know this little puppy, Or maybe he’s a guppy, As he likes to take to water, Like rav’nous rats a larder. I am compelled to mention, While he seems to seek attention, Could not he be aware, How his actions help him fair? Does he bury furry friends, So they don’t obstruct his end? Is a pat on the head that needed? Or is causality unheeded? As this ******* of a fish and mutt, Is capable of kindness but, Only when it drowns those near, Of shadowing his own career.

0

Mar 6, 2010

Mar 6, 2010 at 7:38 PM UTC

alex-gebhart

A Cunning Puppy?

I know this little puppy, Or maybe he’s a guppy, As he likes to take to water, Like rav’nous rats a larder. I am compelled to mention, While he seems to seek attention, Could not he be aware, How his actions help him fair? Does he bury furry friends, So they don’t obstruct his end? Is a pat on the head that needed? Or is causality unheeded? As this ******* of a fish and mutt, Is capable of kindness but, Only when it drowns those near, Of shadowing his own career.

16

Intwined in sweat soaked fev’rish delusion A rav’nous serpent coiling illusion An ouroboros slurps its slith’ring self The prism lies fissured ’neath a cracked ice shelf where flaws like veins branch blood of dark gods flow a heaven lost in smoke nothing good here grows Atlas underground sinews straining stiff auguries of beasts ablaze - Spare a pity for what if

0

Apr 22, 2022

Apr 22, 2022 at 11:10 AM UTC

RandleFunk

Perditus

Intwined in sweat soaked fev’rish delusion A rav’nous serpent coiling illusion An ouroboros slurps its slith’ring self The prism lies fissured ’neath a cracked ice shelf where flaws like veins branch blood of dark gods flow a heaven lost in smoke nothing good here grows Atlas underground sinews straining stiff auguries of beasts ablaze - Spare a pity for what if

16

and they couldn’t afford fifteen dollars. they couldn’t afford the news. neither could i, and the reali- zation that feeling alone is not being. when comments on survival, i see only a frozen bridge and man wrap’d in tatter’d seat cover. he stuff’d new- spaper from feet to neck. using others’ trash to survive, staying warm thru mans’ attrocities document’d. by the news we couldn’t afford. and i see all the faces i used to recognize. i remember now of the familiar faces but don’t have the time to justify their lies. nor do i have the mind. it’s been a minute, and lions flood a room advanced from normality. regain control. and my name is Ziun, and my words are **** it, and my thoughts cryptic, and my body homeless again. found in transition, runoff from times of scavenging and foregoing shame. found in transition from times of the blood-flood’d valleys of dest- roy’d lips. found in transition, head’d from reliance to other persons. to other substances. found in transitions and the wind has rav- aged my body. and i’d wail, wail in spite of lazed vibrating chords. his vocalizing: – don’t forget to sneak off and get rid of it. just show up with wine, then we're ******* and this cat knew my first girl after she was no longer; and this cat knew my first girl of regret after i pass’d her up. – calling sister midnight a first time thru, palms face opposite as we extend right. to feel in diffe- rent tones as this train of thought is derailing, digressing, regressing to swastikas. (lemme redact that) and please think no less of my words based on the words chosen, based on these infinite love-affairs.

0

Feb 3, 2013

Feb 3, 2013 at 8:55 AM UTC

townsendfm

simple little lo.

and they couldn’t afford fifteen dollars. they couldn’t afford the news. neither could i, and the reali- zation that feeling alone is not being. when comments on survival, i see only a frozen bridge and man wrap’d in tatter’d seat cover. he stuff’d new- spaper from feet to neck. using others’ trash to survive, staying warm thru mans’ attrocities document’d. by the news we couldn’t afford. and i see all the faces i used to recognize. i remember now of the familiar faces but don’t have the time to justify their lies. nor do i have the mind. it’s been a minute, and lions flood a room advanced from normality. regain control. and my name is Ziun, and my words are **** it, and my thoughts cryptic, and my body homeless again. found in transition, runoff from times of scavenging and foregoing shame. found in transition from times of the blood-flood’d valleys of dest- roy’d lips. found in transition, head’d from reliance to other persons. to other substances. found in transitions and the wind has rav- aged my body. and i’d wail, wail in spite of lazed vibrating chords. his vocalizing: – don’t forget to sneak off and get rid of it. just show up with wine, then we're ******* and this cat knew my first girl after she was no longer; and this cat knew my first girl of regret after i pass’d her up. – calling sister midnight a first time thru, palms face opposite as we extend right. to feel in diffe- rent tones as this train of thought is derailing, digressing, regressing to swastikas. (lemme redact that) and please think no less of my words based on the words chosen, based on these infinite love-affairs.

54

Couleurs en lambeaux du à trois jours Ça pique , ça chatouille , elle arrive , je la sens , pas bien... Ses pas sont vert , porte la music tel une mélodie qui ne connait limite Les petits coup de , l'oeil devinent la vie , ram ou rav Ma peur , mots , ne se manifeste auprès d'elle , chaque fois Elle se retourne , que regarder , que penser , figé , respiré , demande Comment va tu ? Non , trop formel , tu a prit tes soins ? Trop personnel ... Parler , il le faut , parle la , elle se retourne , je me tourne ... Non Sa voix est faible , ses chants plus possible , yeux sur mien Arrete , mots , sortis , " je t'attendais", " j'étais venu te voir , la porte était fermé " " Désolé " , Elle sourit , pour moi , moi .

0

Nov 9, 2018

Nov 9, 2018 at 6:33 AM UTC

Whiteshade

96' ( french version ) Elle est malade ...

Couleurs en lambeaux du à trois jours Ça pique , ça chatouille , elle arrive , je la sens , pas bien... Ses pas sont vert , porte la music tel une mélodie qui ne connait limite Les petits coup de , l'oeil devinent la vie , ram ou rav Ma peur , mots , ne se manifeste auprès d'elle , chaque fois Elle se retourne , que regarder , que penser , figé , respiré , demande Comment va tu ? Non , trop formel , tu a prit tes soins ? Trop personnel ... Parler , il le faut , parle la , elle se retourne , je me tourne ... Non Sa voix est faible , ses chants plus possible , yeux sur mien Arrete , mots , sortis , " je t'attendais", " j'étais venu te voir , la porte était fermé " " Désolé " , Elle sourit , pour moi , moi .

13

"Jesus, son of Stada, is the Jesus, son of Pandira?" Rav Hisda said, "The husband was Stadia and the lover was Pandora. His name was Spartacus & her name was Pythia." "But was not the husband Nicodemus, son of Socrates and the mother Juno?" "No. His mother was Raet-Tawy, who let her hair grow long and was called Maccabees." Maacah says about her: "She was unfaithful to her husband." "But what of the roots of his tree?" "The fruit that you see be not enough?" "What of that which still eludes me?" Do you still wonder?

0

Feb 14, 2025

Feb 14, 2025 at 4:40 PM UTC

manx-kronos-pragna

Toth & Helen, Hera & Jupiter

"Jesus, son of Stada, is the Jesus, son of Pandira?" Rav Hisda said, "The husband was Stadia and the lover was Pandora. His name was Spartacus & her name was Pythia." "But was not the husband Nicodemus, son of Socrates and the mother Juno?" "No. His mother was Raet-Tawy, who let her hair grow long and was called Maccabees." Maacah says about her: "She was unfaithful to her husband." "But what of the roots of his tree?" "The fruit that you see be not enough?" "What of that which still eludes me?" Do you still wonder?

8

Jara si shikava me khud ko akela mat samjhna Dur se duvaa hai Meri, mujhe paraya mat samjhna Aa ke tham dunga har Gam ko, taqdeer ko itna galat mat samjhna Yaad aati ** tum Har pahar har rav Aham ** khud ko munfarad samjhana Ahad beet Gaye, Ajiyat hai kurbato ko samjhana

0

Apr 15, 2020

Apr 15, 2020 at 7:07 AM UTC

dharmendra-kumar

Sath hu

Jara si shikava me khud ko akela mat samjhna Dur se duvaa hai Meri, mujhe paraya mat samjhna Aa ke tham dunga har Gam ko, taqdeer ko itna galat mat samjhna Yaad aati ** tum Har pahar har rav Aham ** khud ko munfarad samjhana Ahad beet Gaye, Ajiyat hai kurbato ko samjhana

8

some\\thing\\hap\\pen\\s; when I speak _ your _ name.... It'snotquitepleasure and it's not. quite. pain your face. those eyes. those L. iP. s. Stab a primal lo _ng ___ing.... And 》》speed》》 me to quips slimfingersandneck;,..Every inch... how - I - long and #i need ;it's a sc^rat^^ch I mus^t it^^^ch But you. don't..... ||| concede ||| your voice like gravel undermyshoe never sounded s₩€€t€r our words {{failed}} the truth me, some~pied~piper~~~ reduced to this sniv. el. ing/idiot/poser my mel°od°y play°ed to d _eaf ears left > alone > to > spit >> out >> ......pretentious/....little/.....poems....

0

Mar 2, 2016

Mar 2, 2016 at 2:20 PM UTC

TreadingWater

rYme || tYme

some\\thing\\hap\\pen\\s; when I speak _ your _ name.... It'snotquitepleasure and it's not. quite. pain your face. those eyes. those L. iP. s. Stab a primal lo _ng ___ing.... And 》》speed》》 me to quips slimfingersandneck;,..Every inch... how - I - long and #i need ;it's a sc^rat^^ch I mus^t it^^^ch But you. don't..... ||| concede ||| your voice like gravel undermyshoe never sounded s₩€€t€r our words {{failed}} the truth me, some~pied~piper~~~ reduced to this sniv. el. ing/idiot/poser my mel°od°y play°ed to d _eaf ears left > alone > to > spit >> out >> ......pretentious/....little/.....poems....

21