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"renew" poems
Oh, come to me in dreams, my love! I will not ask a dearer bliss; Come with the starry beams, my love, And press mine eyelids with thy kiss. ’Twas thus, as ancient fables tell, Love visited a Grecian maid, Till she disturbed the sacred spell, And woke to find her hopes betrayed. But gentle sleep shall veil my sight, And Psyche’s lamp shall darkling be, When, in the visions of the night, Thou dost renew thy vows to me. Then come to me in dreams, my love, I will not ask a dearer bliss; Come with the starry beams, my love, And press mine eyelids with thy kiss.
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21.2k
Stanzas ["Oh, come to me in dreams, my love!"]
O fast day that trembles at the sight of Moon - when will your warm arms bend again the night's thick armor that shades the world of joyous muse?   It is most facetious in its illusion, that renegade of pale indifference, when daylight dwindles and leaves more to imagine than can be seen with naked eye.   Beneath the gaze of Her taunting face, people do not walk as done in light - suddenly, trudging and stumbling are hip style. Faces covered in guilt, remorse, fatigue - all the things Sun can wash away with a simple, lucid grin.   If brightest bright were set ablaze amidst the night, would people be plucked from this false sanctuary which darkness so convincingly provides? Then many a Lost could be freed; if only to see clearly through effervescent haze.   O blessed Sun! With your arousal, Truth and Freedom will also renew - until again that blank stare casts its malevolent glow on Delusion.
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Jan 27, 2018
Jan 27, 2018 at 4:48 AM UTC
Ode to an Evening
White folks: pack your bags and go. Our nut-brown world is quite offended. Make your shame-faced exit NOW, And leave your mansions unattended. Wait—before you pass the doors, It's time to settle ethnic scores. No more ragtime Minstrel Show. Our Moorish Science took it down. Black lives matter. White, less so— Now move your pale face out of town . . . But first, shell out for racial shame Caucasian losers of the game. Cultural pride is ours alone: Kings and Egyptian queens we were. The glories of our race, well-known Bedazzle in a darkened blur (Clear to Africa's descendants— Puzzling to you white dependents). Blackness lent your world its light, Taught the Dutch to tend those flowers. Scandinavia grew bright Under our beneficent powers. Negroes gave your blondes their beauty; Helped those Norsemen shake their ***** The Seven Wonders of the world: We built them all. No vain conjecture Dims our banner, black, unfurled, Above eternal architecture. Arts and knowledge gained from us Are what we threaten to discuss. We invented math and science Which you robbed from Timbuktu. Swarthy wisdom's brave defiance Caused Old Europe to renew. All our treasure that you plundered Testifies: your days are numbered. Classics of our Greeks you stole: Philosophy was never yours. Shame upon your racist soul; For Bach and Mozart both were Moors. Misappropriated treasures call for ruthless hard-line measures. Latino fate falls next—but, where ? Jews, Turks, and Arabs: are you. . . white ? Orientals everywhere: Choose your side and join the fight. Blackness rising! Late the hour; Heed your call to fight the power. Crackers need to check your race— Stop rooting for that ****** clown. Rednecks all up in our face; Racist throwbacks got us down. But as your statues bite the dust Your light goes dark (you know it must). So move on out, oppressor, thief. Long have you held our nation back. In some white galaxy seek relief— But here the light itself is black. Stars are racist. So is the sun. Now let God's great black will be done.
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Sep 23, 2017
Sep 23, 2017 at 12:03 PM UTC
Betting on the Races
White folks: pack your bags and go. Our nut-brown world is quite offended. Make your shame-faced exit NOW, And leave your mansions unattended. Wait—before you pass the doors, It's time to settle ethnic scores. No more ragtime Minstrel Show. Our Moorish Science took it down. Black lives matter. White, less so— Now move your pale face out of town . . . But first, shell out for racial shame Caucasian losers of the game. Cultural pride is ours alone: Kings and Egyptian queens we were. The glories of our race, well-known Bedazzle in a darkened blur (Clear to Africa's descendants— Puzzling to you white dependents). Blackness lent your world its light, Taught the Dutch to tend those flowers. Scandinavia grew bright Under our beneficent powers. Negroes gave your blondes their beauty; Helped those Norsemen shake their ***** The Seven Wonders of the world: We built them all. No vain conjecture Dims our banner, black, unfurled, Above eternal architecture. Arts and knowledge gained from us Are what we threaten to discuss. We invented math and science Which you robbed from Timbuktu. Swarthy wisdom's brave defiance Caused Old Europe to renew. All our treasure that you plundered Testifies: your days are numbered. Classics of our Greeks you stole: Philosophy was never yours. Shame upon your racist soul; For Bach and Mozart both were Moors. Misappropriated treasures call for ruthless hard-line measures. Latino fate falls next—but, where ? Jews, Turks, and Arabs: are you. . . white ? Orientals everywhere: Choose your side and join the fight. Blackness rising! Late the hour; Heed your call to fight the power. Crackers need to check your race— Stop rooting for that ****** clown. Rednecks all up in our face; Racist throwbacks got us down. But as your statues bite the dust Your light goes dark (you know it must). So move on out, oppressor, thief. Long have you held our nation back. In some white galaxy seek relief— But here the light itself is black. Stars are racist. So is the sun. Now let God's great black will be done.
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fade to black- when all is sore. fade to black, renew the core!
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Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 4:54 AM UTC
fade to black
Poppies abloom in memoriam. Fields content of the past. Storms brewing above. To renew them once again. Memories of battle, scars on the earth. Revealed once again. In the fields. It was the poppies to bloom In memoriam.
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Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 11:19 PM UTC
Where The Poppies Bloom
• Fix me• Mend me•Stitch me•Overhaul me•Amend me• Alter me•Modify me •Enhance me•Patch me• Adjust me•Heal me•Correct me•Reform me•Shift me•Renew me•Remedy me•Rebuild me•Aid me•Assist me•Change me•Rectify me•Troubleshoot me•Revive me• Assemble me•Calibrate me• Service me•Love me• Repair me
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Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 4:26 AM UTC
Repair Me
Touch as the fervent feeling seek to know the ambiguity of it, Feel as the ****** of a sparrow wing crept upon my dreams, Fathom as the grief of rocks shrieked on deserted mountains, And the Sky was blue Touched by a Crescent Moon Unraveling the hidden truth How life was promised to me and you Awe as landscapes vanished from distant perplexing shores, Sigh as Long ships sailed on white ashes coasting inherently, Fright as the voluptuous sights, faking wonders in my night, And the Sky was blue mellifluously My Heart as to see a magnificent feeling to be free the beauty relentless, endlessly weave Pray as the growing wind whisper, a phrase to forever keep, Kneel as crowds offered Him, a gratitude of rejoicing praise, Trust as dandelions glides, the strength of His binding faith, And the Sky was blue for God is forever faithful & true to broken lives, he one's renew Keeping his promise to come again soon Awake as the daybreak reveal, memories of our love revisit, Sing as angels on white veil’s, bring you to heaven's place, Gone is the world I once knew, eyes closing as my soul flew, Amen...
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Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 8:07 PM UTC
◦ And the Sky was Blue
O me! O life!… of the questions of these recurring; Of the endless trains of the faithless—of cities fill’d with the foolish; Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?) Of eyes that vainly crave the light—of the objects mean—of the struggle ever renew’d; Of the poor results of all—of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me; Of the empty and useless years of the rest—with the rest me intertwined; The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life? Answer. That you are here—that life exists, and identity; That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse.
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9.9k
O Me! O Life!
#*child of heart but not of womb, would i'd been gifted to ban the hope-thieving, spirit-throwing parasitic lies, to shelter ears & fragile petals against bruising, whiskey-glazed acts and words. would i might be gifted now to soothe, cradling tender soul through deadest night's watery gloom. yet firmly i know none other will ever be gifted to bestow what only One balm can perfectly renew, and He waits for you, my beautiful girl.*#
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Jul 16, 2016
Jul 16, 2016 at 9:47 AM UTC
petals
The snows are fled away, leaves on the shaws And grasses in the mead renew their birth, The river to the river-bed withdraws, And altered is the fashion of the earth. The Nymphs and Graces three put off their fear And unapparelled in the woodland play. The swift hour and the brief prime of the year Say to the soul, Thou wast not born for aye. Thaw follows frost; hard on the heel of spring Treads summer sure to die, for hard on hers Comes autumn with his apples scattering; Then back to wintertide, when nothing stirs. But oh, whate'er the sky-led seasons mar, Moon upon moon rebuilds it with her beams; Come we where Tullus and where Ancus are And good Aeneas, we are dust and dreams. Torquatus, if the gods in heaven shall add The morrow to the day, what tongue has told? Feast then thy heart, for what thy heart has had The fingers of no heir will ever hold. When thou descendest once the shades among, The stern assize and equal judgment o'er, Not thy long lineage nor thy golden tongue, No, nor thy righteousness, shall friend thee more. Night holds Hippolytus the pure of stain, Diana steads him nothing, he must stay; And Theseus leaves Pirithous in the chain The love of comrades cannot take away.
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Diffugere Nives (Horace, Odes 4.7)
Utopia Must Be An Invention of the Mind I have searched long and hard, trying to find that place where peace and serenity, in our world may yet grace a chance to meet a dream come true, if only for a few where pain and suffering are gone, and will never renew Then I realized, this Utopia I seek, on a map will not be found still an undiscovered world, whose contemplation will confound finding some comfort, the thought of my soul ascending on high no longer to be troubled, suffering on earth never again to decry A world exists but not for the living, to experience this garden of delight a place where the happiness of life's dreams, will satiate your appetite where fear and worries cease, hope and desire now become your reality trials and tribulations throughout life, ending with that long awaited finality Maybe Utopia really does exists, but only with extreme effort can you hope to say, it you have acquired but most people refuse to commit, unwilling to put in the time and effort that is unquestionably required how mistaken we often are, thinking we can still remain happy, giving up by settling for that much less only up to the point we are once again challenged, and our daily events again cause us all of our stress To understand why so many people never seem to be satisfied, no matter what they have, it is never enough first we must acknowledge the answer might be found in the lies people believe, but most of them are a bluff Utopia must be an invention of the mind, convincing itself that feelings of joy and happiness are close at hand seemingly it might then be prudent to maintain this self-deception, since this is what our egos really demand Although it has been stated time and again that Utopia does not and can not exist, yet we still continue to dream coming to teach us this great lesson in human psychology, how much for happiness' sake, we're willing to scheme yet we can take note to the fact that despite our varying differences, this human condition remains constant in us all our primary need for true happiness is why we can rest assured, invisible Utopia we will forever continue to recall
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Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 2:30 PM UTC
O Utopia, Utopia, wherefore art thou Utopia?
Utopia Must Be An Invention of the Mind I have searched long and hard, trying to find that place where peace and serenity, in our world may yet grace a chance to meet a dream come true, if only for a few where pain and suffering are gone, and will never renew Then I realized, this Utopia I seek, on a map will not be found still an undiscovered world, whose contemplation will confound finding some comfort, the thought of my soul ascending on high no longer to be troubled, suffering on earth never again to decry A world exists but not for the living, to experience this garden of delight a place where the happiness of life's dreams, will satiate your appetite where fear and worries cease, hope and desire now become your reality trials and tribulations throughout life, ending with that long awaited finality Maybe Utopia really does exists, but only with extreme effort can you hope to say, it you have acquired but most people refuse to commit, unwilling to put in the time and effort that is unquestionably required how mistaken we often are, thinking we can still remain happy, giving up by settling for that much less only up to the point we are once again challenged, and our daily events again cause us all of our stress To understand why so many people never seem to be satisfied, no matter what they have, it is never enough first we must acknowledge the answer might be found in the lies people believe, but most of them are a bluff Utopia must be an invention of the mind, convincing itself that feelings of joy and happiness are close at hand seemingly it might then be prudent to maintain this self-deception, since this is what our egos really demand Although it has been stated time and again that Utopia does not and can not exist, yet we still continue to dream coming to teach us this great lesson in human psychology, how much for happiness' sake, we're willing to scheme yet we can take note to the fact that despite our varying differences, this human condition remains constant in us all our primary need for true happiness is why we can rest assured, invisible Utopia we will forever continue to recall
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Your serene lips could liquefy petals of a rose With twigs on your spine Consuming my dreams as you lure me Stretching as the stars shine Tangled in the ocean breeze Beyond beautiful you steal my soul Our hands unify in the shade of the unknown Tonight we step beneath the flesh As the path of dust disappears I want to drink from your collar bone Every crevice I will endear Following the maze of your fantasy Impeccable skin inviting me in The anticipation intoxicates my desires As I travel your outline I stiffen for you Eager to gratify the valley of your liquid pearls You whimper as I dissolve your engorged delicacy As you spasm and tremble you ignite the evening air A Magnetic exuberance of fervor swept over me Our swollen, lustful lips surrender again As your majestic heart nurtures our love I famine to have your tongue renew me Your quivering hands beginning to stimulate me You brush against my hardness lightly I stir inside my stomach Restless and blazing I await Teasing the tip my luster rises As your manhood swims inside my mouth You swell my peaks, passionate yet tender You linger feeling my need Slipping into your enticing throat My fingers clutching your hips Connecting with my core as I absorb you I quiver and cry out loud With handfuls of starlight and luster We create a haven just for us You enter me so carefully As we wither and blend Our flesh is stamped together A serene ambiance is swaying with us As you whisper and writhe beneath me
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Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 11:08 AM UTC
Seductive Intimacy (Adult Content)
This sunlight shames November where he grieves In dead red leaves, and will not let him shun The day, though bough with bough be over-run. But with a blessing every glade receives High salutation; while from hillock-eaves The deer gaze calling, dappled white and dun, As if, being foresters of old, the sun Had marked them with the shade of forest-leaves. Here dawn to-day unveiled her magic glass; Here noon now gives the thirst and takes the dew; Till eve bring rest when other good things pass. And here the lost hours the lost hours renew While I still lead my shadow o’er the grass, Nor know, for longing, that which I should do.
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7.3k
Autumn Idleness
Always which the Human in me surpass When Trite Reunion comes to much Expect Between us, Birth-Father, the Heart must last And configure our Values circumspect After seeing those skinned neighbours battle And DAD the Inspiration I preserve Comes your Striking Counsel; Which I rattle And reimburse the Love you so deserve But, if Favour pleads, renew the Bald Man Whose Birthdate his Arm's Course Affection share Teach this Tanned Diver; To widen his span Knowing such Open Hands breed Anywhere. Circles are Dangerous, if Minds are locked He needs to KNOW that; From his own Best Hug.
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Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 3:15 AM UTC
SONNET TRIBUTE SUNDRY: JESUS ***** C. MANDREZA - RECIPROCITY
The heart works for the hard work, beating constantly as targets are acquired. Shots fired, money wired and payments aplenty. Contacts signed, terms and conditions defined, it could take time, but the ***** rolling. Touch base as we reach for the stars, customers in charge, their business is ours. We roll monthly, comfortably in our own domains, renew them annually again as the pattern remains the same. Some days, it's a struggle to get out of the pit, feeling burnout, lack energy for my daily workout. The wage ain't great but the dividends could add up to millions. Some are cynical but I won't listen to those opinions. I treat my staff as people not minions. No need for incidents were a team of individuals. Passionate and driven creatures, hidden features and secret keepers. Let's get money and lets get paid, Theres a million ways we can earn more than the minimum wage. Let's raise the bar, the city is ours and the worlds not too far away... Dream tomorrow and live today.
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May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 8:19 AM UTC
Labor omnia vincit
You breathed your last breath from the air in this room; that threadbare Persian carpet holds flakes from your skin; hairs from your head corkscrew the dented cushions scattered and idly waiting on the sofa; bed linen scented with your sweat the goose down doona that stole your last warmth; sleep spit and tears human moisture that permeates the acrylic layers of your pillow; an eyebrow hair wedged in the tweezers; a clipped nail that flew off somewhere out of sight; that new toothbrush used only once; your flannel and towel still drying out; the wet press footprint on the bathroom mat; the talcum powdered slippers abandoned under the brass bed. Each moment of everyday we shed ourselves shed dead cells and renew - a cycle of shedding until the last shedding of ourselves. © M.L. Emmett
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Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 7:01 PM UTC
The Forensic Science of Grief
the rain cleans the earth. it purifies it it renews it. i wonder, if i am under the rain, will it cleanse me? purify me? renew me? but that is just hopeful thinking. the rain will only drench me. the rain is selfish in the way that the only thing it will clean is itself. we must be like the rain. we must not try to purify others. we must not try to renew others. the only one who can cleanse us of our impurities, is ourselves.
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Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 1:21 AM UTC
rain
Dogwood shimmers in the late winter light. Yellow red and in between. Jenny likes the nearby willow. The white buds draws her mind to the later treat a walk to the snowdrop trail where upon Peter will renew his vow one day set up home at Stevenage so close to Benington Lodge her favourite  indulge
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Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 6:45 AM UTC
Snowdrops
Souls of Old, Hear my cry. Save his Soul. The Tale of a Lord, The Lord of fire. Is a dark myth. Behind the Lie.. He roams, Hells Land. Beyond the Skeletal Gates. Only to wake in his sleep. The tales of fire, Within the heart. Are True by all. Beyond the hearth. Souls of Old, Free his Soul. Break the chains, Renew his heart.
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Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 11:18 AM UTC
Save his Soul
*Enveloped in the sacred blue your lyrically beckoning shores an ancient anchoring to renew safe harbor unknown before Depths of clarity and calmness in truth too deep to fathom forever guarded by the goddess sunken treasures not abandoned This ship must cross the latitude persistent winds setting sails a changing in its attitude soon homecoming prevails*
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Jul 23, 2013
Jul 23, 2013 at 9:41 AM UTC
Adriatic Longing
A Rock there is whose homely front The passing traveller slights; Yet there the glow-worms hang their lamps, Like stars, at various heights; And one coy Primrose to that Rock The vernal breeze invites. What hideous warfare hath been waged, What kingdoms overthrown, Since first I spied that Primrose-tuft And marked it for my own; A lasting link in Nature’s chain From highest heaven let down! The flowers, still faithful to the stems, Their fellowship renew; The stems are faithful to the root, That worketh out of view; And to the rock the root adheres In every fibre true. Close clings to earth the living rock, Though threatening still to fall: The earth is constant to her sphere; And God upholds them all: So blooms this lonely Plant, nor dreads Her annual funeral. * * * * * * Here closed the meditative strain; But air breathed soft that day, The hoary mountain-heights were cheered, The sunny vale looked gay; And to the Primrose of the Rock I gave this after-lay. I sang-Let myriads of bright flowers, Like Thee, in field and grove Revive unenvied;—mightier far, Than tremblings that reprove Our vernal tendencies to hope, Is God’s redeeming love; That love which changed-for wan disease, For sorrow that had bent O’er hopeless dust, for withered age— Their moral element, And turned the thistles of a curse To types beneficent. Sin-blighted though we are, we too, The reasoning Sons of Men, From one oblivious winter called Shall rise, and breathe again; And in eternal summer lose Our threescore years and ten. To humbleness of heart descends This prescience from on high, The faith that elevates the just, Before and when they die; And makes each soul a separate heaven A court for Deity.
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5.4k
The Primrose Of The Rock
A Rock there is whose homely front The passing traveller slights; Yet there the glow-worms hang their lamps, Like stars, at various heights; And one coy Primrose to that Rock The vernal breeze invites. What hideous warfare hath been waged, What kingdoms overthrown, Since first I spied that Primrose-tuft And marked it for my own; A lasting link in Nature’s chain From highest heaven let down! The flowers, still faithful to the stems, Their fellowship renew; The stems are faithful to the root, That worketh out of view; And to the rock the root adheres In every fibre true. Close clings to earth the living rock, Though threatening still to fall: The earth is constant to her sphere; And God upholds them all: So blooms this lonely Plant, nor dreads Her annual funeral. * * * * * * Here closed the meditative strain; But air breathed soft that day, The hoary mountain-heights were cheered, The sunny vale looked gay; And to the Primrose of the Rock I gave this after-lay. I sang-Let myriads of bright flowers, Like Thee, in field and grove Revive unenvied;—mightier far, Than tremblings that reprove Our vernal tendencies to hope, Is God’s redeeming love; That love which changed-for wan disease, For sorrow that had bent O’er hopeless dust, for withered age— Their moral element, And turned the thistles of a curse To types beneficent. Sin-blighted though we are, we too, The reasoning Sons of Men, From one oblivious winter called Shall rise, and breathe again; And in eternal summer lose Our threescore years and ten. To humbleness of heart descends This prescience from on high, The faith that elevates the just, Before and when they die; And makes each soul a separate heaven A court for Deity.
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O Lord, mighty God How awesome and powerful You are You rule with justice high above In heights above the stars With one word, You spoke the heavens With one word, founded the earth With love in Your heart, You called man from the dust You filled him and gave him his worth Your knowledge is too high for me Your wisdom I cannot attain At Your feet I humbly bow I will never be the same You are God - there is no other Greater than what eyes can see Yet fear still grips me, with doubt I still struggle I've hidden my face from Thee So many idols remain in my life Things I've refused to let go of Selfishness, pride - they rage deep inside But I lay them now down at your feet My eyes I fix upon Your truth My heart I set upon Your Word I'll run this race with strength from You A new creation to finally emerge Forgive me, Lord, and cleanse me within Renew this darkened mind Change me, transform me, purge out the sin For You I lay down my life You are my God, there is no other Greater than what eyes can see Your power's at work changing me Who You have purposed I'll be
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Jul 4, 2012
Jul 4, 2012 at 10:45 PM UTC
My Awesome God
If I get lost, promise you'd leave me be Let me walk alone in my circles I'll find my way back...almost instinctively Through looping thoughts and scribbles If I should trip, promise you'd let me fall Scrape my knee and scream a voiceless scream Weight of the universe may seem crushing to shoulders so small I'll walk it off and regain newfound steam If I show signs of buckling, promise you'd let me collapse into nothing Let me fold into myself...into an unnoticeable speck There is solace in this space when the walls are caving Soon I would reinvent and renew from that wreck If I suffer a cut, promise you'd just let me bleed Let the black of my soul gush out Within it I would find the seed To which all of my rantings are about If I should begin to write, promise you'd read my scrawls Take them as they are and not to heart Just thoughts versus words that mean much or nothing at all They'd stitch me anew when I start to break apart If I keep losing myself, promise that you'd let me be The circles I tread are very much predictable They'd always lead me around... Don't treat me differently Just stay where you are... I'll come back round, fresh and able...
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Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 9:47 PM UTC
Circles
As days jitter by gleamed with such sheer and merry, Then comes the memoriam-filled allegory; Called the times of meditation and redemption, Purple-shrouded cloth with blood has brought salvation. 40 days to drop down and be poured on ashes, 40 nights to commemorate for such dashes; A memoir to be sung, flinging an elegy, Sacrifice of the Son tuned to a eulogy. But have no disheartened faith heard on stricken grief, For a promise of sacrifice is worth that brief; It’s the moment to recall, repent, and renew, Making a mark not turn to long the past askew. Lenten season speaks of turning from the darkness, Losing a part to share with Him pure happiness; Just as Christ suffered for the shortcomings of men, His Church must respect and join for the time given. So do not grieve for his loss, or that of your own, It will be worth such a gain and it shall be sown; For that choice, a short-time loss is a long-time gain, With God, He provides us courage to surpass pain. Such as to come thwart on our midst His forthcoming, Prepare not only now but till life deems rusting; But until time hovers to an eternal halt, Apprehend, amend on such light and grave faults.
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Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 9:14 PM UTC
The Time of Sacrifice
I've been running on empty Skipping on dregs Cycling on morsels Jumping on egg shells It's time to recoup regroup   renew, restore, build more reserves Surrender to slumber And swerve Away from activity Simply pause, And deeply breathe.
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May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 6:36 PM UTC
Burnout