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"ravelled" poems
A white mist drifts across the shrouds, A wild moon in this wintry sky Gleams like an angry lion’s eye Out of a mane of tawny clouds. The muffled steersman at the wheel Is but a shadow in the gloom;— And in the throbbing engine-room Leap the long rods of polished steel. The shattered storm has left its trace Upon this huge and heaving dome, For the thin threads of yellow foam Float on the waves like ravelled lace.
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La Mer
937 I felt a Cleaving in my Mind— As if my Brain had split— I tried to match it—Seam by Seam— But could not make it fit. The thought behind, I strove to join Unto the thought before— But Sequence ravelled out of Sound Like Balls—upon a Floor.
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I felt a Cleaving in my Mind
Red eyes, set so wide. Perplexed eyes, that can hide. Closed eyes and a broken smile. Hollow laughter, an empty voice. Quiet speak, a careless speech. False assurances with little joy. A beating heart and a broken smile. *No need to be ravelled up so tight, just let loose and undo the fright*
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Sep 12, 2012
Sep 12, 2012 at 6:34 PM UTC
Enigmatic
HE stood among a crowd at Dromahair; His heart hung all upon a silken dress, And he had known at last some tenderness, Before earth took him to her stony care; But when a man poured fish into a pile, It Seemed they raised their little silver heads, And sang what gold morning or evening sheds Upon a woven world-forgotten isle Where people love beside the ravelled seas; That Time can never mar a lover's vows Under that woven changeless roof of boughs: The singing shook him out of his new ease. He wandered by the sands of Lissadell; His mind ran all on money cares and fears, And he had known at last some prudent years Before they heaped his grave under the hill; But while he passed before a plashy place, A lug-worm with its grey and muddy mouth Sang that somewhere to north or west or south There dwelt a gay, exulting, gentle race Under the golden or the silver skies; That if a dancer stayed his hungry foot It seemed the sun and moon were in the fruit: And at that singing he was no more wise. He mused beside the well of Scanavin, He mused upon his mockers: without fail His sudden vengeance were a country tale, When earthy night had drunk his body in; But one small knot-grass growing by the pool Sang where -- unnecessary cruel voice -- Old silence bids its chosen race rejoice, Whatever ravelled waters rise and fall Or stormy silver fret the gold of day, And midnight there enfold them like a fleece And lover there by lover be at peace. The tale drove his fine angry mood away. He slept under the hill of Lugnagall; And might have known at last unhaunted sleep Under that cold and vapour-turbaned steep, Now that the earth had taken man and all: Did not the worms that spired about his bones proclaim with that unwearied, reedy cry That God has laid His fingers on the sky, That from those fingers glittering summer runs Upon the dancer by the dreamless wave. Why should those lovers that no lovers miss Dream, until God burn Nature with a kiss? The man has found no comfort in the grave.
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The Man Who Dreamed Of Faeryland
HE stood among a crowd at Dromahair; His heart hung all upon a silken dress, And he had known at last some tenderness, Before earth took him to her stony care; But when a man poured fish into a pile, It Seemed they raised their little silver heads, And sang what gold morning or evening sheds Upon a woven world-forgotten isle Where people love beside the ravelled seas; That Time can never mar a lover's vows Under that woven changeless roof of boughs: The singing shook him out of his new ease. He wandered by the sands of Lissadell; His mind ran all on money cares and fears, And he had known at last some prudent years Before they heaped his grave under the hill; But while he passed before a plashy place, A lug-worm with its grey and muddy mouth Sang that somewhere to north or west or south There dwelt a gay, exulting, gentle race Under the golden or the silver skies; That if a dancer stayed his hungry foot It seemed the sun and moon were in the fruit: And at that singing he was no more wise. He mused beside the well of Scanavin, He mused upon his mockers: without fail His sudden vengeance were a country tale, When earthy night had drunk his body in; But one small knot-grass growing by the pool Sang where -- unnecessary cruel voice -- Old silence bids its chosen race rejoice, Whatever ravelled waters rise and fall Or stormy silver fret the gold of day, And midnight there enfold them like a fleece And lover there by lover be at peace. The tale drove his fine angry mood away. He slept under the hill of Lugnagall; And might have known at last unhaunted sleep Under that cold and vapour-turbaned steep, Now that the earth had taken man and all: Did not the worms that spired about his bones proclaim with that unwearied, reedy cry That God has laid His fingers on the sky, That from those fingers glittering summer runs Upon the dancer by the dreamless wave. Why should those lovers that no lovers miss Dream, until God burn Nature with a kiss? The man has found no comfort in the grave.
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992 The Dust behind I strove to join Unto the Disk before— But Sequence ravelled out of Sound Like ***** upon a Floor—
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The Dust behind I strove to join
to unravel myself from these winter burrows i might need to warm my chest with my own sun. they call on night sometimes, how well do you know it. (how much longer can you go without seeing your homeland?) your memories are fading too quickly for you that was your life once! to stay here now means forever. you've wrapped me up in dark blankets ravelled me, cupped me into your body but you are my enemy your warmth is not a kind gesture i know that so well! i'm beginning to miss my ocean. i've sent my pride to the sea so long ago and now she's there floating in the water, waiting for me. you will never be the saint you see. (i know that so well) my ancient mothers can even feel their ancient recipes crumbling, waiting for my consumption. so i need to do more with my hands. ancient mother, teach me how to mend. how to tend to a heart tenderly, how to love. i want to love i want to feel i want to move i want to breathe i want to sigh i want to spin i want to drive i want to cry and mend and love and move and breathe holy mother- do you see her through the window like i do? please, can you feed her eyes and her mouth for me before she forgets how to
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Apr 10, 2018
Apr 10, 2018 at 7:36 PM UTC
I, Nereida
3:39 in the a.m. bats call, cat yowls, dogs bark, partner, snorts, snores, ... . farts...... grandma shuffles to toilet.... .... flushes. baby whimpers...... ..... or was that me, a glass of warm milk to.......................helpmesleep a dribble.... of scotch to help .....me sleep a mix of both to help me cope no just breath partner, snorts snores farts ...............must make...... Drs appt for him. sleep that knits the ravelled sleeve? not tonight for me I do believe. 4.19 in the a.m. To thelazyboy I go to doze..... perchance .... 40winks more 80winks before dayshift specialbeautifulcrazy .... ..... dayshift begins.. DOUBLE SHOT LATTE . PLEASE. . ...already it is a long day...
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May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 2:55 PM UTC
insomniac antipodean nightime rambling
My life at the beginning of creation is woven with words and watered down with poetry. My mind creates the pictures that the heart wants me to interpret into words and give it life. My eyes feeds the mind with profound scenes of the unspeakable, which my mouth translates into intricate words of clear speech and poetry. Complex in nature, convoluted and tangled, complicated and twisted, ravelled and ornate, labyrinthine and winding, maze-like and knotty, serpentine and sinuous, circuitous and detailed, daedalian and involute, mixed up and fiddly, byzantine and Gordian mind blowing words that are arranged in a delicate way, to soothe and smooth, correct and mend, comfort and bring solace to heal our brokenness. ©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
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Nov 19, 2018
Nov 19, 2018 at 8:15 AM UTC
WORDS IN MY LIFE
Im naked and exposed, My vulnerabilities taking hold. But I have no bounds, I knew this when I fell. For his aura lured me in, His beautiful soul caught hold of mine. For we were pulled together by invisable twine. Ravelled, but I could have broke free. For it was where I wanted to be, where I wanted to stay. Blinded by his memphis, Locked in by his gaze. Just for one sweet moment, be entangled in one anothers love. For love it was. But love it couldnt be. For you didn't belong to me, I had to set you free. The right love, at the wrong time. Maybe in another life you would have been mine. But for now I'll just wonder, I'll wonder what could have been.
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Sep 9, 2018
Sep 9, 2018 at 9:49 PM UTC
A Love I Should Have Known
There's a story, Always one. Alone somewhere waiting. A story, In Abdul's curious eyes A story, In those doubtful goodbyes. Always one, Ravelled. Somewhere in begger's bowl, in those frightening howl.. A story, Between the parade bands. A story, Somewhere behind those Men, Gazing at no man's land. Weapons are gripped Bullets fly, Shouts become deaf And , humanity becomes numb, On those wet, dead roads, What walks in silence... is a story. Always one. Partially unseen, There stands one story.
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Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 12:29 PM UTC
Perception.. A story.
I sat alone, questioning and wondering. disguised a slothful i sat . days slipped, so the rain and thundering. I sat alone, questioning and wondering, is that all we made of? Lies, greed and of chouse love? of killing kinds for no reason? of black desires and of nurturing treason? I sat alone, questioning and wondering. why can't we all stand on the same bench? I sat, wondering.
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Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 11:31 AM UTC
Ravelled...
Celebrate versatility, of every ethnicity Un-marginalise, break social exclusion, transcending illusions A streaming subject that runs deep Of chemical appliance, let go of the defiance Un-tick the boxes, esteeming all, tear down the walls A part of applauded appearances, let it go, let it be Yield the root of the matter Is it about good or bad? Or embracing what you have With gratitude be glad Set your own standards and expectations The representational, be sensational A headed glory, create your own story To raise or lay down, finding YOU – be found Twists, dreads, braids, outer beauty fades Curly, wavy, straight, close the divide No preference of side No greater pick, fine, medium, thick Long, medium or short, in spite of what is bought Towards evolution, be your own solution Of the inner voice, your personal choice Hair is a journey, whether late or early Whether young or old, inner value can’t be sold In the midst of society, establish your priority Of inner health, let that become your wealth Accept yourself Taken chances, of blessed finances No worse or better, be your own trend setter There’s every kind of beautiful, un-throne the judge Unborn fears, traced back through the years Your personal connotation, comprehend the relation The way to be true, find your inner you Of yours, of mine, hair does not define Of no preference, a walk beyond difference Inner realisations, natural formations To tame for fame Behold victory, realise your history Un-ravelled vanity, embrace humanity Written by Geraldine Taylor ©️
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Jul 9, 2017
Jul 9, 2017 at 9:10 AM UTC
All Hair
Celebrate versatility, of every ethnicity Un-marginalise, break social exclusion, transcending illusions A streaming subject that runs deep Of chemical appliance, let go of the defiance Un-tick the boxes, esteeming all, tear down the walls A part of applauded appearances, let it go, let it be Yield the root of the matter Is it about good or bad? Or embracing what you have With gratitude be glad Set your own standards and expectations The representational, be sensational A headed glory, create your own story To raise or lay down, finding YOU – be found Twists, dreads, braids, outer beauty fades Curly, wavy, straight, close the divide No preference of side No greater pick, fine, medium, thick Long, medium or short, in spite of what is bought Towards evolution, be your own solution Of the inner voice, your personal choice Hair is a journey, whether late or early Whether young or old, inner value can’t be sold In the midst of society, establish your priority Of inner health, let that become your wealth Accept yourself Taken chances, of blessed finances No worse or better, be your own trend setter There’s every kind of beautiful, un-throne the judge Unborn fears, traced back through the years Your personal connotation, comprehend the relation The way to be true, find your inner you Of yours, of mine, hair does not define Of no preference, a walk beyond difference Inner realisations, natural formations To tame for fame Behold victory, realise your history Un-ravelled vanity, embrace humanity Written by Geraldine Taylor ©️
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I was always lost in many thoughts, and many glances, other beaches, circumstances— Ravelled in, a set of hands, of another man. Oh, all with the same name as you. Oh, all with the same name as you.
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Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 12:42 AM UTC
The Taste of You Under My Tongue
Escaping the threats of death While in cave, in mom's womb I say welcome to my abode Alive you came into a new home If you don't know, I'm Mr. Life Embrace me fearlessly above board I'm that priceless breathe in you You can't trade me for anything at all Live me with caution and you'll smile Regrets are yours when carelessly I bless some hardworking entity But the lazy, I say no! no! to success Bless and fulfilled are those Whose purpose they've known Woe to the confused entity in misery I am a fine wood to the brave carvers They give a lovely craft out of me But undeterminable by the cowards Every professional knows me Footballers says I'm a goal If you don't play well, you won't score Doctors call me Mr. Mysterious! I confuse their mastery in theaters Whenever I want to leave they can't stop The theologian guys know me They call me the oldest mystery ever The breath from the supreme God The greatest brains tried to no avail You can't make me artificially Oh! I'm precious and you know that! I left the greatest Philosophers ravelled Till they unravelled the hidden mysteries They've known as the Mysterious one! The military respects me fearlessly They take me from some to save others I'm Mr. Life, your friend, your smile.
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Jul 14, 2020
Jul 14, 2020 at 4:08 AM UTC
THE PHILOSOPHY OF LIFE
“I know she’ll break my heart,” he said. “I know it certain as any sun “Chivvies a glitter from a pipe of lead “Where the poisoned waters run. “She’ll take me into her thighs and turn “Me out on a dawn as dark. “Her face by the dark door, sorrow-stern, “Will be creased with her smartest lark. “Loose leaves and the ravelled flowers share “Much aspect upon her face, “But darker than any flutter of hair “Is the part-past, and the chaste “Abuse and mirror and sickening sweet, “And battery forecast. And mean “Her broken look! and her last retreat “In the terrible City of Seen!”
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Nov 30, 2017
Nov 30, 2017 at 10:40 AM UTC
I KNOW SHE’LL BREAK MY HEART HE SAID
Ravelled spools Of spilled awake-dreams and un-sleeping grievances. Let’s watch them like an old film On a tattered sheet. I want what you want — to sleep. To say goodnight to trickling doubt, And face the grout in the walls.
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Jun 27, 2023
Jun 27, 2023 at 5:50 PM UTC
Old Movie