"rebuke" poems
Are you listening to the whispers? are you feeling scandalised?
Harbouring ***** little feelings that you wanna sanitise?
Walk through the swinging doors of a catholic franchise
Ask em for that sailors knot a black-n-white man-ties
To the pairs of prying eyes his practical rebuke
Is a marital disguise and a tactical puke
Throw the garter ‘mongst the pigeons, the voluntary victims...
Whose single minds are filled with matrimonial conviction
Paired up poets pool their miseries; the price of art
Each miserable synergy - the sum of its parts
Did he swear that he’d hold you ever dear to his heart?
To love and to cherish til your knees did part?
If she wants you like her father and you want her like your mother
What the hell are you gonna do when you’re bored of one another?
There she stands on ceremony all silk and sinew
While the vow evicted from his Adam’s apple continues
To stutter as the panic builds like stifled farts
Til it splutters its devotions on her lady parts
Her eyes sentence you to sit though your neck-hairs stand
She’s the ****** ****** written in the lines on your palm
Old scores squeeze sideways through her gritted teeth
And he takes on the debt of every promise she believed
Hide the love-bites in a polo-neck, your love life in a Rolodex
When the ***** hand of happen-stance runs its evil down your keks
Cos like the indelible digits on your bathroom mirror
Love is for life until you dress it with liquor
If she wants you like her father and you want her like your mother
What the hell are you gonna do when you’re bored of one another?
We are but experiments, seven billion shades of wrong
The clever ones stay celibate, the others pass it on
That’s an easy line to settle-on in present company
Single-riders in the peloton to pick up the debris
Mar 7, 2018
Mar 7, 2018 at 5:44 PM UTC
A most pious man
whose well-tempered music
brushed the cobwebs
from the throne of God
Evolution was made manifest
across deep time
these lyrical figures
achieve the same purpose
in the space between the morning star
and the dawn
A fallow field
is sewn with pearls
a moonlit beach
illuminated by shadow
every scrape of the fiddler's bow
merges mind with the present
harvests the meaning
in the moment
The composer
that good man
was
for a time
church organist at St. John's
its notable steeple leaning
all askew
as a rebuke against God
or perhaps the drunken architect
A finger of candlelight
plays across the manuscript
a fugue echoes
through the still church
And though no living person
on that still winter's night
shares the organist's solemn delight
the stirring mass of possibility
that is posterity
awaits
Oct 9, 2016
Oct 9, 2016 at 5:49 PM UTC
Web caught trembling prey, blistering sadness in a shallow grave
Repulsive, rotten ***** stench, locked box of putrid sorrow
Blood clot hidden trench, vile secretion burrow
Wolf-dressed goblin ***** muttering incantations
Teetering on a broken fence, seething hatred regurgitation
Greedy, evil, spineless, ***** Cunning, patient, *****
One head desire, two face succubus
Speech craft, forked tongue. Slithering witch, foul gargoyle
Rebuke the venomous. Castrate the young. Stoke the funeral pyre
Incubate the serpent fetus. Demon, devil, liar
Nevermore, sinister toil. Bone-covered soil
I smite her without a flicker of remorse
Death to the succubus. Death to Venus
Jul 6, 2013
Jul 6, 2013 at 6:20 AM UTC
We are embodied and entrusted with the word
To keep preaching until every voice is heard
To not keep it in but let the world know
About the lamp at our feet which continues to glow
Help all the needy and make there day bright
Lead them out of the darkness and into the light
Show them a way that is supposed to be bold
That a soul is to be treasured and not to be sold
We cast out demons and rebuke evil spirits
In the name of Jesus we are not gonna fear it
Walking tall carrying a double edged sword
Bringing all into unity and on one accord
We will make over comers out of underachievers
And to all the doubters we will make them believers
It starts with a vision and a plan to succeed
And into mans heart we shall sow our creed
In the name of Jesus is all that we ask
Just give us the strength to carry out this task
Oct 6, 2012
Oct 6, 2012 at 3:28 PM UTC
Progress is wasted here
the high street draped in uniform glass fronts
why shouldn't we play our bugle
to rebuke this shard ?
yet in a corner there's still a market street
refusing the final nail,
there's a shoe, bakery, cycle and jewellery shop,
in our hearts we will
wear pride to headline the clarion call
and shed anger at being accused of,
carrying congress with the past
at our coffee stall.
May 28, 2012
May 28, 2012 at 6:00 PM UTC
In the dour ages
Of drafty cells and draftier castles,
Of dragons breathing without the frame of fables,
Saint and king unfisted obstruction's knuckles
By no miracle or majestic means,
But by such abuses
As smack of spite and the overscrupulous
Twisting of thumbscrews: one soul tied in sinews,
One white horse drowned, and all the unconquered pinnacles
Of God's city and Babylon's
Must wait, while here Suso's
Hand hones his tack and needles,
Scouraging to sores his own red sluices
For the relish of heaven, relentless, dousing with prickles
Of horsehair and lice his ***** *****
While there irate Cyrus
Squanders a summer and the brawn of his heroes
To rebuke the horse-swallowing River Gyndes:
He split it into three hundred and sixty trickles
A girl could wade without wetting her shins.
Still, latter-day sages,
Smiling at this behavior, subjugating their enemies
Neatly, nicely, by disbelief or bridges,
Never grip, as the grandsires did, that devil who chuckles
From grain of the marrow and the river-bed grains.
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Erstwhile, i cared for none
But now i have a promise
To the Lord that i can be
As worthy as a servant should be
The earth is my battlefield
Amid in the evil, wearily i stand
A relentless battle to survive
Trying hard to stay alive.
Each day I'm faced with opponent
In an arena crowded with temptation.
Masters of the dark distort my spirit,
In their deadly game, i am but a pawn.
So weak, i tremble with fear.
This unutterable battle, i am bound to lose.
Lord, send forth thy holy warrior
And save me O Lord, make haste.
He knows my every weakness.
My weakness his console,
But, Lord have mercy on me
For you said "My power works best in weakness."
Permit me as your lowly servant if i deserve,
And send me forth to justify the truth.
Nurture me under Your grace
And i will build in You a strong faith.
As a roaring lion he may come,
But i will stand still and never move.
For i have faith in You Lord
I will rejoice and forever be glad.
Lord, make me wise
That i may know his cunning ways,
Make a shield around me
And wrap me in Your loving arms.
I will watch and pray
Lest i get weary,
I have a life to sacrifice,
A heart to give.
Lord, have patience with me
"O Lord, do not rebuke me in your anger,
Nor chasten me in Your hot displeasure."
For i am but dust and You are my saviour.
I will prove to be your worthy servant,
I will honor Your grace and love,
Till the day i hear the trumpet,
In that day, i will greatly rejoice. AMEN..
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 8:08 PM UTC
Being drunk is not cute
Drunk texting is not cute
Vomiting is not cute
Waking up next to a homeless man you were cuddling behind a bush in order to keep warm is not cute
Homeless men are not cute
Stealing a stranger’s phone so you can sneak away to the bathroom and take a picture of your ****
Is not cute
Drunk *** is not cute
But it is awesome
Crying after drunk *** is not cute
Crying during drunk *** is not cute
Crying is not cute
Despite whatever I have set myself to believe
I am not cute when I am drunk
I’m not even cute when I’m sober
And when I find myself
With head hanging halfway into a gutter
While leaning out of the passenger seat of my car
Looking at the chunks of red-orange
Sour and burning
I know it is just my body
Trying to rebuke my ***** mouth
That’s what my mouth looks like
When I say the things I do
And it is definitely
Not cute
Jan 28, 2012
Jan 28, 2012 at 4:01 PM UTC
I want to sleep in your arms tonight,
While we hug each other,
Lips meeting romantically with in a kissy.
I want to sleep in the bed with you under sheets,
While the baby sleeps in its decorated cradle,
Less concerned about the next day than the baby.
I want to sleep forever but after 60-65 years,
While you lay me down to your lap,
Listening to your rebuke about being always sleepy.
Jun 21, 2013
Jun 21, 2013 at 11:20 AM UTC
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected])
There are more and more misfortunes in the world
Known to you dear people in your diverse conditions,
But my life and experience has taught me unique lessons
Of kindred to befit me Elizabeth, a daughter of Zinjathropus
Hailing in the savannah desert, Turkana County of Kenya,
I have graduated in to a single lady without test of marriage,
As desert men look at me in their irritating impotence,
**** clothes wrapped around their slender waists passing on me
Like a dog passing on American dollars; cursed be desert men,
I thought my beauty of dark African complexions will give them a ****** tease
But to my chagrin; desert men have a fear of beautiful ladies
My conscience tells me that my beauty is an eye sore to them,
I thought my bulging hips will entice them as is a promise of fertility
Leave alone not to mention my concupiscent ****** warmth, uhmmm!
Desert men have dared not to see and appreciate my **** bossom,
They often pass on me driving their donkeys and emaciated carmels,
I thought my ***** sharp pointed ******* assign of virginity
Will call them to me into a treat of love, affiliative love,
But sadly enough; these dudes are erotically blind,
They they nonchalantly pass on my **** *****
Wielding a begging bowl in their ***** long hands
Running like drunkard chimpanzees going to Oxfam stores to beg for food,
Cursed be Oxfam an imperialist agent, it has crashed flat
The testicles of our desert brothers into ****** insensitivity,
Oxfam has made African desert men to beg like Hebrew lepers
Other than standing up on their feet to feed their women,
Normally as men would do from the sweat of their brow,
I thought my education will attract them to me,
To love me with those romantic University kisses,
But desert men have crude cultures and slavish religion
They rebuke girl child education as if it is a devil,
Oh my dear God of the forsaken desert ladies
Of the forsaken African daughters,
Take me out of this ****** desert
Take me out of the city desert of Lodwar,
Take me to the equator line and give me a husband,
My eggs are pretty ready to conceive and sire children
Sons and daughters for your own glory O almighty God,
Take me out of this ****** desert,
Where no man treats a modern woman,
Take me out of here and give me a fresh man of my dream.
Because I have known from today;
It is accurse to be a woman in Africa
It is a curse to be a beautiful lady in African deserts
It is a curse to be a woman graduate in the African desert
It is a curse to have ***** ******* in the African desert,
O! Help me God.
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 9:58 AM UTC
So stick up ivy and the bays,
And then restore the heathen ways.
Green will remind you of the spring,
Though this great day denies the thing.
And mortifies the earth and all
But your wild revels, and loose hall.
Could you wear flowers, and roses strow
Blushing upon your ******* warm snow,
That very dress your lightness will
Rebuke, and wither at the ill.
The brightness of this day we owe
Not unto music, masque, nor show:
Nor gallant furniture, nor plate;
But to the manger’s mean estate.
His life while here, as well as birth,
Was but a check to pomp and mirth;
And all man’s greatness you may see
Condemned by His humility.
Then leave your open house and noise,
To welcome Him with holy joys,
And the poor shepherd’s watchfulness:
Whom light and hymns from heaven did bless.
What you abound with, cast abroad
To those that want, and ease your load.
Who empties thus, will bring more in;
But riot is both loss and sin.
Dress finely what comes not in sight,
And then you keep your Christmas right.
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Forgive me father,
for I am Sin
and I am here
to take you in.
Its been thirty years
since my last confession,
but mere moments
since your last transgression.
and though you thought
all had gone unseen,
your hands and soul
remain unclean.
You took
our Father's Sacred Trust,
and through it proclaimed
yourself as just.
And, while children,
yes, they will believe,
**the eyes of mine
you can't deceive!**
I know what you did
and you know to who,
and I'll not let you
draw the curtain through.
Your crimes,
these I will expose;
For my friend,
the victim no one knows.
No one knows him,
because he's dead.
because of you.
Because he bled.
You see,
he thought he
was just a boy.
Not some secret to destroy.
So,
it didn't make sense to him to live,
because of what you said
and what you did.
But, don't you ever believe
that Our Lord allows
men like you to break these vows,
and then disclaim
and then rebuke
a boy who dared to speak the truth.
You watched as a child sank and died
and to the Courts, how loudly you denied.
But,
don't believe that I am ever fooled,
and my vengeance will not be overruled.
For I am Sin,
and I don't care how much you cry.
My Hell awaits the day you die.
Jun 8, 2016
Jun 8, 2016 at 1:57 PM UTC
It would tie your brain up in a knot,
the clink of glasses on the barman's grate,
and the tones of creaky Dublin croaking,
In darkness, mourning the death, of the daytime light.
It would I say, to grasp the slender neck,
and to lift it, smiling, glancing beyond the glass,
at winking eyes and clinking pints of plain,
My brain is in a knot, when I think of you.
I held you on the banks, of the royal canal,
knew then what all the bards and lovers mean,
say it was the light reflected in their eye,
I never did hear tell, of eyes to rival glass
Yet confound revealing daytime light,
you are liquid of the night, stout and dark,
rebuke me not, till your own brain too,
Has been left in knots, by the dark slender boy.
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 6:47 PM UTC
I was raised on ridicule
Scorn and blaming.
Belittling laughter
Jokes and shaming.
Though nobody who knew
Seems to doubt it
They sure as hell wish I
Would shut up about it.
That’s just the way it is today.
Abused children, it seems
Upset people; therefore they
Are best not heard, just seen.
Four Eyes, Toothpick and Brat
These are a few of the names.
You might as well call them freaks
And creeps. It amounts to the same.
Screwup, ****** fumblefingers,
Bones, Spazz and Stumblebum.
Pantywaist, wussy, ditz and then
Plenty more where those came from.
From birth to death it seems
Sometimes, throughout all of life
Some people just don’t care
That scorn can cut like a knife.
It makes people question
Every move they might make
When somebody keeps on
Calling them things like flake.
The condemnation and rebuke
Aren’t covered up by the laughter.
People should question deeply
The effect they think they are after.
So cut the kids a break
It won’t turn out wrong
And the ridicule of a child
Can last their whole life long.
Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 6:02 PM UTC
make complications, rebuke.
electronic mailings
back, forth, fourth
again. it is their responsibility,
arrangment, role, assigned post.
it is so very important, so difficult.
phoned the other one, he just
said yes.
job done.
sbm.
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 11:45 PM UTC
Good old Gregory Goose was Gladder than any Gander could be and not Just because Nelson the Ninja Snail had said he was "JUST-DUCKY" ! This was a Very Special morning for Gregory Goose, in Fact it was yesterdays Super Special situation that made His Delight so DELICIOUS. The comment by Nelson the Ninja Snail, had simply added to His Glory! Gregory's Special Situation Had been the Unexpected Announcement that HE was to be Named "TEAM-CAPTAIN" for the Annual "Hog Wallow and Here's Mud in Your eye" CONTEST ! ! "Oh the delight" He thought, "I am to be Captain, after waiting all these years". "ME" he exclaimed ! "Captain of the South Forty Blocks"...... "W O W ' ! ! At the most convenient time of the day, Harold Hippo, Candy Cow, Curtis Chipmunk, Marvin Monkey, Beatrice Bovine and Larry Lynx decided to make a Personal call on Good Old *GREGORY GOOSE . Keep in mind Now, That Harold, Candy, Curtis, Marvin, Beatrice and Larry we're the *INSIDE, of the "INNER-CIRCLE". JUST ASK THEM !! They were on the INSIDE ! ! Well, when Gregory Goose heard the Knock at the door, He opened it with a Great Big Grin, That ONLY Gregory could Give! Before Him stood the "J U D G E S " of All Contests and Efforts. *Gregory was Beside Himself ! ! Instead of Seeing a group of Smiles and Handshakes, He saw Staring Eyes, Necks that had been stiffened AND *Gnashing of Teeth. Beatrice Bovine was the First to Speak, "Gregory, it has been brought to our attention that you had a conversation with Nelson the Ninja Snail,, and YOU didn't Rebuke his statement of being called "JUST-DUCKY". "As a result of this, *WE decided YOU "Cannot Be" CAPTAIN of the Hog Wallow and Mud in Your Eye Contest, PERIOD ! ! Gregory Simply smiled, Looked Straight into their Eyes, Quietly said "BYE", Softly Closed the door.... Turned Grinning, Knelt to his Knees, PRAYING, Thanking GOD, for the FACT,, That he, Gregory, He was Made just a *LITTLE BIT PECULIAR ! !
Jan 10, 2011
Jan 10, 2011 at 3:19 AM UTC
I heeded that you are married
no attribution against you
I the one to rebuke
I could've been a man sufficiently
when you said: man up
I became less a man you yenned
I was dark to scope your worst of love
I blundered to enroll, only love is to rescue
I exclusively thought you had a disease
that you can't breathe in general
though I am envious, but I still say:
God bless you and your remedy
He should be me to rescue you
But I was dark to cognize
affection is the only thing you need to meliorate
I urge I could just turn back the hands of time
Began a fashionable living with you
Instantly that I cognize, you are a love patient
I'll man up, I'll provide sufficiently
I'll satisfy your breathe
Just so, I cognize
you are mated to him
He's better than me, better than anyone else
In him you belong, stay blessed.
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 6:48 PM UTC
So Much To Do
I watch the parade go by
yet by her I wait
she whispers
see their works
I beg her I need not read
especially what they think of me
I fear not in this idiomatic state
for I rebuke all in this mode
Let me show
let me show
ready
ready
She laid her head on me
when those who presume,killed her
I am not dazzling and grateful
for I did fight all the way
Don't make me break the covenant of peace set
as all will be paralysing to my orders
I need not waste time on affairs of yours
so little time and so much to do
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
By NeonSolaris
© 2013 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
Nov 23, 2013
Nov 23, 2013 at 9:55 AM UTC
i loved you, right
a love unreturned,
unrequited
but alas, still
stoked by little miners with
hearts of brass their
iron faces grimacing at the task,
little beads of lots of sweat
dripping down their
taut frowns.
so what i meant to say is that
i love you, right,
and it’s a love that still
burns, bright, enough
to bring the boys home but
let’s be honest
it wouldn’t best the sun, but
**** it’s a terrible light,
it throws everything into a soft relief
where pretty, soft voiced sheep say
pretty, soft voiced things like
‘it’s okay to feel this way’
‘i want you to be happy’
‘she sounds amazing’
and other things that normal people
tell me mean that either
i don’t love you
or i’m moving on.
they don’t understand though,
i mean,
i love you, right,
though all that sheep **** makes it
sound as if
i’m waving you off,
smashing the celebratory champagne on your bow,
waving you off into the distance with a lacy hanky,
joyful tears cascading down my powdered cheekbones,
i’m greedy
maybe even,
needy,
a disgusting word and
even if i make pacts with myself
to the order of
‘he can do so much better’
‘i am damaged goods’
and other associated half truths
i’d be a liar if i said that
i would kick you out of bed
or even rebuke the slightest of
advances, no i’d take my chances
and i cannot bear it, really
i’d touch you and whatever wholeness
whatever someone else would
parse as clean or pure or holy
wouldn’t disintegrate, no
wouldn’t tarnish, no
would most probably just implode
under the combined pressure
of emotionally-mentally-fucked-in-the-head-doe
(where the **** do you think the miners got all that coal)
so, yes… wait. no?
i love you, right
but just ignore it
enjoy the lights
please remember them
tell your friends and
cherish them until
they are taken by
death, drink, dementia
but i’m sure your mum,
teacher,
or television
long ago informed you that
bright lights are detrimental to vision
so think of your future and
forget now
if you’re tempted by how i look at you
remember how
sunburn seems innocuous
until you see your skin
and sunscreen pretty useless
‘til you learn the sun will win
and the best way to avoid
dainty melanoma
is
to
go
inside
and
lock
your
door
and act like you don’t know her.
Oct 9, 2012
Oct 9, 2012 at 11:51 PM UTC
Sleep beckons.
I could close my eyes and call it a day.
Lie down and die – maybe dream
Of all that was unaccomplished.
But with dreams there comes no guarantee.
Compensation for dissatisfaction?
Rebuke for procrastination?
There might be none,
Or some that I might not even remember.
Life is meaningless.
We are but sparks: destined to fade away.
This isn't a game, there are no rules.
No prosecution for any infringement.
I choose to while away at a make believe game
With make believe rules.
But I play fair,
Lest I should be judged by me.
I granted myself the liberty
Imparting meaning to my existence.
Meticulously building a façade.
Filling the void that I was born into.
One reckless step and it might all collapse-
Life, rules, beliefs-
A heap of nothingness at square one.
This choice-
The liberator from the drudgery of existence-
Is the one that binds me.
So I force myself to stay awake
For a few more hours each night.
Trying to get the blocks in place.
Convincing myself that what lies ahead is all pleasure.
Will it be reward enough
For all that I have suffered and lost
At my own game?
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 1:46 PM UTC
Last light on the bay,
The sky stained red
By a butchered day,
Dying with the grace
Of a sinking star.
All of its charm
Chastened by the waves
To its grave.
Because their sharp rebuke
Would be swift
And angered outburst be sound
'That thou should not sail
Where the sky meets the sea
If thou dost not wish
To be drowned'
Out there on the unsound
Ground of a different galaxy,
Where aliens have no right
To be,
And salt bleeches bones
Right down to the grain
Leaving lost,
unfortunate stowaways
Scattered like shells on a beach.
Nov 10, 2023
Nov 10, 2023 at 2:15 PM UTC
Lord, who hast suffer'd all for me,
My peace and pardon to procure,
The lighter cross I bear for Thee,
Help me with patience to endure.
The storm of loud repining hush;
I would in humble silence mourn;
Why should the unburnt, though burning bush,
Be angry as the crackling thorn?
Man should not faint at Thy rebuke,
Like Joshua falling on his face,
When the cursed thing that Achan took
Brought Israel into just disgrace.
Perhaps some golden wedge suppress'd,
Some secret sin offends my God;
Perhaps that Babylonish vest,
Self-righteousness, provokes the rod.
Ah! were I buffeted all day,
Mock'd, crown'd with thorns and spit upon,
I yet should have no right to say,
My great distress is mine alone.
Let me not angrily declare
No pain was ever sharp like mine,
Nor murmur at the cross I bear,
But rather weep, remembering Thine.
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***IF YOU READ NONE OF MY OTHER
POETRY, PLEASE READ THIS!***
Knock, knock - Who's there?
Is anybody home?
The lights are on, but you are gone...
It's silent as a tomb.
Knock, knock - Who's there?
Listen to the sound!
He waits for you! You know it's true!
But you are not around...
When Jesus is a'knocking
At your heart's fast door,
You appear to close your ears...
Do YOU know WHAT'S IN STORE?
We DON'T all go to heaven...
YES! There is a hell!
You will find that you are blind
Believin' a tall tale!
*I am a "good" person!
I'm helpful, and I give!
It's okay to be this way!
I live and let live...*.
NO! Jesus lead the sinless life
And gave it up for YOU!
Let Him in, He'll take your sin,
For He is kind and true!
There are NONE "good" people!
Folks! We're near the END!
Satan promotes his lies and gloats,
You'd best believe it, friend.
We ALL sin, and like as not
God CAN hold a grudge!
I don't know why we try and try
To say He doesn't *judge!
This means YOU TOO, Believers!*
You'd best have a care...
Be ye pure, or you'll endure
The same fate sinners share!
This is simply Bible.
God, the temple left!
Ezekiel. You know full well.
It was then BEREFT!!!
CHRISTIANS! Are you holy?
Have you sinned enuf?
He is God - He's not a CLOD!
He don't put up with GUFF!!!
Do I sound like I'm frightened?
You BET! I am afraid.
There is grace, but it's a *race!
I may NOT make the grade!*
We CAN blame the devil,
And that is just a shame...
He tempts us all, but please recall
REBUKE! In JESUS NAME!
**Adam blamed the WOMAN.
Eve... she blamed the SNAKE...
Holy SMOKES! C'mon folks!
HOW MUCH CAN GOD TAKE???!!!**
Knock, knock - Who's there?
Christ died that we may LIVE!
Open up and *drink the cup!
Then He can FORGIVE!*
If you don't, please hear me.
You'll believe a LIE.
You may well end up in hell...
**So kiss your soul GOODBYE.**
SoulSurvivor
(C) 6/12/2014
This poem is a spoken-word vidio
on YouTube...
https://youtu.be/PbD84Tuydxw
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 3:16 PM UTC
“But my chief argument in defence of **** An-shih is that…
he retired from the Court decisively, ignored all recalls, and
took to the mountains to write poetry of no political
significance whatever.”
– David Warren on the poet-philosopher **** An-Shih
Recusancy is not pious quietism;
In silence it is a brave voice withdrawn
From pompous Kratos’ halls of treachery
From screaming Demos’ marketplace of noise
And up into the silent hills to save
Something of civilization, to sing
Matins among the mountain mists, to write
A page in praise of Creation, to live -
Recusancy is not quietism at all;
It is a firm rebuke to tyranny
Aug 25, 2018
Aug 25, 2018 at 3:34 PM UTC
Not by one measure mayst thou mete our love;
For how should I be loved as I love thee?—
I, graceless, joyless, lacking absolutely
All gifts that with thy queenship best behove;—
Thou, throned in every heart’s elect alcove,
And crowned with garlands culled from every tree,
Which for no head but thine, by Love’s decree,
All beauties and all mysteries interwove.
But here thine eyes and lips yield soft rebuke:—
‘Then only,’ (say’st thou), ‘could I love thee less,
When thou couldst doubt my love’s equality.’
Peace, sweet! If not to sum but worth we look,
Thy heart’s transcendence, not my heart’s excess,
Then more a thousandfold thou lov’st than I.
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