"repays" poems
When hearts hunger to love
angels will see.
Need opens approach with
chance for release.
Heaven's intentions shall
brook no delays.
Freedom to show love is
how Love repays.
Sep 17, 2016
Sep 17, 2016 at 11:03 AM UTC
(Matthew, xiii.3)
Ye sons of earth prepare the plough,
Break up your fallow ground;
The sower is gone forth to sow,
And scatter blessings round.
The seed that finds a stony soil
Shoots forth a hasty blade;
But ill repays the sower's toil,
Soon wither'd, scorch'd, and dead.
The thorny ground is sure to balk
All hopes of harvest there;
We find a tall and sickly stalk,
But not the fruitful ear.
The beaten path and highway side,
Receive the trust in vain;
The watchful birds the spoil divide,
And pick up all the grain.
But where the Lord of grace and power
Has bless'd the happy field,
How plenteous is the golden store
The deep-wrought furrows yield!
Father of mercies, we have need
Of thy preparing grace;
Let the same Hand that give me seed
Provide a fruitful place!
3.8k
Tonight I went to a house warming party,
Just to be nice,
When I really should have been at home,
With my hungover head on ice.
I didn't like most of the people there,
They bored me in fact,
Especially the cliche hippies with long dreaded hair,
Clothes, barely intact.
As the night went on,
The washed up ****** ****
Came through the gate.
One by one by one.
I don't have time for people,
They drain me.
Trying to be nice by buying minors alcohol,
But no one repays me.
The welcome wasn't the warmest,
I was patronised because of my mode of transport,
By yet another ****** ****
And his tattered up Jansport.
Eighteen years to realise,
That the public and I don't get a long.
Eighteen years later and I can guarantee,
That i'll be singing my own funeral song.
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 8:26 AM UTC
This world is hypocrisy right from head to toe
From some like a glow while for others its blow
Hatred and venom is inside while love to show
Some are in the palaces ,some are down below
What it seems its not ,what its not it portrays
For some it is a phase while for others a phrase
***** heart plays tricks and ***** mind relays
Whatever is given to world it definitely repays
Let us be true and honest in our day to day life
Let us face realities being on double edged knife
No matter if we go to gallows ,alter or sheer strife
Double faces and double meanings are just in rife
Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
Jul 13, 2016
Jul 13, 2016 at 11:57 PM UTC
*hard skin of life to penetrate
soften that piercing stare*
1.
seems a shot spiked with kindness does the trick
that’s how we button up the moon’s sides with silver thread
to keep its seams from splitting solemn sides
and spilling all its jolly secrets: whorls of fingerprints sinking steadily into luna-grooves
like a neat domino-stacked roll on a never-ending trip into black holes
not far from Ursa Major
2.
to grant a delightful hop up and throw seeking eyes over the orb’s gentle curve
take a little look-see
the tiniest peek into Tucanae
where tidal forces push small clouds
and outstrip the western winds
towards cunning straits
to subtly tie into bows
cut ribbons of fate
drink a dram of mercy from a well-behaved thimble
yet poems don’t pay no bills now
when words tinker with heart’s mettle
3.
wonder if sagacious rue repays in full
or satisfies the exceeding cost
of the hankering in a vessel
caught eddying in giant nacred jetsam
while casting minute gems before the moon’s eyes
it’s nigh impossible to hide behind the sun
4.
best be ready with prêt-a-porter life-pennies
and be
wise to always carry a pocket full of sorrys
*stitch 'em seams together now
it all comes together
nice and neat*
S T, Moonday, 15 July 2013
Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 6:08 AM UTC
Play your cards right
Put on a mask to hide
Stacked deck
I speak lies
Fluently addictive
I’m infected with the soul
***** tonk hip
Broken record stuck on repeat
Hit me.
21 bust
Dealer’s choice. Counting cards.
Gambling addiction
One last chance to win at this lifestyle.
House always wins.
All in.
Out of control.
Runnin the table for brief seconds.
It’s gone.
Laid down everything on black.
This is how I live.
Just an honest man in a gambling world.
Juggling priorities.
Impulsive. Instinctive.
Alive.
Pop the bottles,
Full throttle.
Pedal to the metal.
This ride doesn’t stop.
Commit to it.
Makin money, spending money.
Just hoping to break even.
Break the bank, crack the casino.
We learned on the streets.
How to play this game.
Betting on games we know we can’t win.
These lines will end you in bread lines.
Doing it on the soul purpose of chance.
Will you ever know this lifestyle?
Seemingly scheming.
Flipping cards to the end
Royal flush.
Trapped in casino bright lights.
Just trying to find out what its all about.
For better or worse, I’ve been changed.
Lets **** this world up,
Before it repays the favor.
You’ve gone past gone to far
In deep.
I see possibility in failure.
The best of both worlds.
Collision course.
Make a bet.
Throwin’ down the table.
Snakeeyes.
Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 1:25 PM UTC
~for Vinnie Brown~
even your kindergarten crushes?
what burdens you seek to retain,
the edgy border of delicious and pain
is a raggedy cut line,
as lost lovings, rhymes with duality
Once upon a time,
a middle aged man
left the woman he married,
the one who drained and cruel reigned
over the destruction of his-dreams,
for one accidentally stumbled into,
the love who blurred his edges as well,
between forgotten happiness and
pain so awesome bad when she grew tired
of his life's complications,
she left him,
weeping on the corner of Broadway and 83rd Street
was that 20, 30 years ago?
a memory
from no matters land
but
the physical ache that marred the hearth in the chest for
months and months,
sent him to the doc who smiled sweetly
but gave him, had no, no relief for
busted grownup hearts
with normal EKG's
that remains a treasured affirmation to this day of
life's capacity to love that comes with
an ingrown danger
of never forgetting
did you know the French outlawed the use of the term
Mademoiselle in '12 (Mlle.)?
I loved that salutation,
calling my one true lovers
with the soft feminism of that address
and still do
and you want to recall
kindergarten crushes?
Mister Vinnie
possesses a lovely contradiction,
holding onto
lost lover sickness
that lives on in good love poems
this my new found poet,
is how that he, this aching heart,
fast approaching his shore line for one last return
and final departure
repays a sweet compliment,
from one who complements
anothe man's lovely's insane desire to
never forget any of it
~~~
reading Vinne Brown's poetry
https://hellopoetry.com/vinnie-brown/
and listening to Joni M.
at 3:09AM;
never wise,
but full of hindsight
Aug 26, 2017
Aug 26, 2017 at 3:19 AM UTC
it was the corruption that caused the social upheaval
in this nation
not the correct response of an increase in cynicism
of the populace
toward institutions that serve only themselves
most people I know just want to have a family, a home, and eager to work for these things, a job that is meaningful and offers respect and as much challenge as the individual can handle and then the employee repays that respect in delivering it to the outside world everyday
the result would be a better world
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 9:27 AM UTC
In a universe where nothing could be everything
and everything could be nothing
I wake up blinded by the sun and my weak eyes struggle to conform
but her power desires me
In a universe where silence can ring ears
and actual sirens can calm them
My engine rustles with promise as I drive down the unpaved road
I am cement, and spill out of my windows into the potholes as I pass
Shadows of trees fold over behind me as outlines of roofs emerge
one day I’ll drive and count them all
In a universe where we worship time
but it repays by pilfering our youth
I make out silhouettes through the strands of my ***** hair
Your tie taunts me, perched confidently on the base of your neck
My fears in the flesh, enveloped in dark eyes and strong posture
one day I’ll face him eye to eye
In a universe where we long for love
but company deludes us
I eat dinner alone at a table for six
and stare longingly through one of my three big windows
My mom probably called but my phone’s been on silent
one day I’ll get free time and call her back
In a universe where nothing could be everything
and everything could be nothing
My pillow steals my thoughts for the closing hours of the night
and I ponder on how much of me it’ll return when I wake up in the morning
Solipsism
(10.16.2020)
—adrianatamara
Dec 24, 2020
Dec 24, 2020 at 10:07 AM UTC
When tossing a coin that'll choose for me my life,
My grandfather spoke...
It was a quiet yet monumental sentence
"Be the journalist of a dying race"
My brain melted away in thought
I didn't look if the coin was heads
Or tails; I let it fall on its side.
I let the air go stale and choke my lungs.
In that moment my life slowed to one thought
my grandfather is the most intelligent gentleman to ever grace this earth and look how the world repays him.
Give him health or give me death.
Let him sip upon immortality
Let him tell, but not force his views on others for hundreds of years to come
But do not let him suffer in the chains of our race.
Do not let any of us suffer any more.
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 8:14 AM UTC
There are shores on loves great ocean
Which I fear I’ll never see
The storms and waves, they rock me
Like a child trying to be brave
The torture of the motion
Wakes the fears that dwell in me
‘Til the waters suffocate me
And the boat feels like a grave
With every wave that batters
With each sway
With each swell
The heaven and the hell
Ensue their battle once again
The only thing that matters
In this pain wherein I dwell
Is the heart that I won’t sell
For anything but love’s true when
Though tempests rage what calm destroys
The calm repays the wage
Even when it rains in clearer skies
But, sometimes, there’s a rainbow
Bringing beauty back to mind…
All in waiting for love’s true when to arrive
Jun 28, 2016
Jun 28, 2016 at 4:02 AM UTC
IN THE AFTER-TIME
" Alice thought she
had never seen such
a curious croquet
ground in all her life; "
It was somewheres near
Roswell
18 something and something
there or there...abouts
& Billy the Kid &
the boys have just
...paused:
in their croquet
for a tintype photo.
Billy's the guy
in the cardigan sweater.
Him & his gang
( the Regulators )
are posing like
they were a prototype
for
Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers
or the band
THE BAND.
Pure Americana.
Billy the cardi-cowboy and
his gang of croquet playing outlaws...
Not exactly how
one would have somehow
imagined them
. . .passing the time.
One of the outlaw...eh...gentlemen
points out that
Billy
" . . .the Kid has spooned
his shot!"
A ricochet of tobacco coloured
spittle hits a spittoon.
Silence congeals
about the accusation.
Now, whether Billy has
merely pushed the ball
silently through rather than
soundly hit it
is:
neither here nor there.
A cold revolver
clicks &
"I says I hit it...I hit it
get it?"
The other gentleman outlaw
begs to agree.
"Ok, Billy boy...keep yer
cardi on!"
And so, we leave them
there
in the croquet craze of
1878.
Time like a yellow ball
hit through hoop after
hoop until: it arrives
at this
present...NOW!
And a photo found in a store
for a dollar or a few dollars more
repays the expense
by morphing into
the 5 million dollar
photo.
But I hit the ball
back through hoop after
hoop after hoop
until it arrives back
at Billy's boot.
And a voice cries:
"Ok, kid...play!"
Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 5:29 PM UTC
There is a man
Who likes to pretend
That he's pure and holy
When really his mouth only spews out baloney
*These hands of mine,
a thousand men have bested
and thrice that the ladies
they have pleasured!*
This man likes to wear all white,
And on his head he props a halo.
He hides his forked tongue in plain sight
With which he claims to be a fine ole fellow
*These friends of mine
All shapes, all colours, every walk of life
All indebted to me
Oh! Without me,
they couldn't survive!*
But like the viper in Aesop's fable
Your trust he repays the only way he's able
With your paramour he'll try his luck
Rejected he'd say "All I wanted was a free ****
*No matter, for with any luck
The old lady will let me out
There are girls who've taken my buck
And they'll take it again without a doubt*
So of this false angel be wary
A conscience he has not
Web of lies and deceit his main plot
For he has no friends only quarry
***Here lies A
Certainly a class Act
For when the reaper came to play
You can be sure no one wept***
Oct 13, 2016
Oct 13, 2016 at 2:03 PM UTC
He’s carefree as the pen caresses the page..
Mirrored images from the mind of the sage…
So vivid the tears of pain and happiness can blind your rage..
Words livid, coming to life and dancing off the stage…
As lucid forms they rise in a furious action…..
They writhe into life newborns, in a hurried fashion…
Now exposed to a world of blood thirsty assassins…
They take shape and fight with all of their passions…
They’ve finally escaped to free paper…
No longer trapped inside their peace maker…
But their peace maker considers his pen and his pad to be saviors…
They give him what he needs and he never repays ‘em with favors…
They release these demons and give him a good night sleep…
Now staring at the back of his eyelids won’t make him weep…
Cause the words that composed his nightmares took a dire leap…
It’s safe now, he can close his notebook and retire in peace….
Aug 7, 2010
Aug 7, 2010 at 2:58 PM UTC
Let’s have a conversation with no words,
where only each other can know what is heard.
We take a moment of silence for those we have lost,
and that silence for a moment repays the lives it had cost.
Words are only as powerful as the emotions you put behind them,
and as the effort you use to hide them.
The steady meter of your breath, the constant beat of your heart,
It is a symphony, a work of art.
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 9:32 AM UTC
note: i heard somebody said this and i will just re-share to you of how karma repays,.... it just made me teary coz i always ask myself if karma does really exist, and this time, i believed it really does exist.....
*in a conference, (it is not mentioned what place) there was a very loyal and very good person, who is the treasurer in that specific conference. he is so good, kind and nice to everyone... everybody likes him and he is so good in keeping the money and he is such a very trustworthy treasurer... *
then, one day a woman approached the president (who happened to be a part of the family) , and told him to excommunicate him in being the treasurer and let the woman take his place instead but the president refuses 'cause that man is such a good and trustworthy person...
then the woman had a bright idea
she went to the office of the man ahead of him and hide... the man went in his office and the woman wait for her turn to show off her idea to take away the man in the position.. then, when the man went out, after a minute she went out and declared,
**** **** HE ***** ME! LOOK AT ME, LOOK AT WHAT HE HAD DONE TO ME, THAT STUPID MAN!!"**
the people were all shock to what they witness, a woman, with stripped clothing went out and pronounce
****
and the man being accused stood there, frozen in fear and doubt, confused of what to do,
then suddenly he explained himself hardly,... but the woman is just so good in acting, people believed in her, and she was successful with her plan...
the man wife's was so angry, and crying, she can't believe what just happened, she question her husband a lot for what reason why'd he do that, the man explained a lot but nobody believed in him,,,"
the man's family suffered a lot... he don't have work anymore to support their children,... his children went school as a working student in college, they studied hard 'cause nobody will support for them anymore....
on the other hand, the woman, happy with her big amount of salary, she was able to send her children without anything to worry about,.... she can just send money, send money, and send money to her children...
AFTER 10 YEARS
*The woman got guilty a lot and this time * SHE SUFFERED. her children got addicted to drugs, was not able to finish their studies and other made a girl pregnant... she said she never knew how hurting it is to suffer like that, she maybe had money to support her children but they just wasted it for other stuff..*
while the man being accused, his children all finish in their studies and was able to earn money and repay back to their parents... (he still has a happy ending)
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 8:21 AM UTC
By the Rivers Of Babylon, there we sat Down, Yea, we Wept when we Remembered Zion. We Hung our Harps upon thy Willows in the Midst of It. For there those who Carried Us away Captive asked of Us A Song, and those who Plundered us Requested Mirth, saying, '' Sing us One of the Songs Of Zion.!"" How shall we Sing thy LORD's Song in a Foreign Land.? If I forget You, O Jerusalem, let My Right Hand Forget Is Skills! If I do not Remember You, let My Tongue Cling to the Roof Of My Mouth- If I do not Exalt Jerusalem Above My Chief Joy.. Remember, O LORD, against thy Sons Of Edom the day Of Jerusalem, who said, RAZE It, RAZE IT, To its Very Foundation!" O Daughter Of Babylon, Who Are to Be Destroyed, Happy the One who Repays thee as thee Have served Us.! Happy Is The One Who takes and Dashes Your Little Ones Against Thy Rock.!
Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 3:07 AM UTC
Approaching nuclear winter, and I can't wait for apocalypse wine soaked Bukowski to crawl out his grave and slug it out with the man in black.
I hope they buried Bukowski in that ill fitting t shirt with his beer gut trying to escape from the bottom, and we should feel ***** for making ******** legends.
We don't.
I'm collecting bottles of alcohol on my window sill;
1 Bottle of Vanilla Smirnoff to cap off poorly cooked rice dishes and sleep dizzy at night. I killed it with a screwdriver some time after New Year's Eve, I guess.
1 Bottle of Kamora, to make a white russian, but we put most of it in egg nog and then watched Neil Breen speak out loud what he should have kept to himself, and we ****** on my couch to see if my room mate would walk in on us, and we fell asleep like that and woke up with sore necks. I stuck that flower you stole inside the bottle, and now it's plastic neck wilts a little more in the sunlight and radiator every day.
1 Bottle of Espolon, but it was filled with more ***** She brought it last time we saw each other and we watched some anime and I made everybody smell the ***** that smelled like pure sugar. I don't know what you see in me, but I hope you stop.
1 Bottle of Copa De Oro to round out more nights with the only drink I can fix well, walking through feet of snow to sleep early and wake up late. I'd play with your hair and skin and watch you fall asleep and wake up at all times of the night, and I'd wake up just to do it again, because this is my dream.
A single can of Pabst Blue Ribbon, stolen from my room mate. I thought I was clever without trying too hard, I keep washing all her dishes and she repays me with a messy living room and a sink full of dishes. Living like this is **** and we get along just fine.
I hope someone gets that ******* Alex Jones with a bat to the side of the head, and buries him in a rose garden, as long as we're still fighting fascists and not trying to hold hands and sing "Kumbaya".
I think, I hope, we're all tired of holding our breath.
Jan 21, 2017
Jan 21, 2017 at 11:57 AM UTC
Tell me dear, are you a flower in my garden?
Are you here because I watered you?
No, you grew from rainy and sunny days
With them both, I see now that time repays.
Oct 9, 2017
Oct 9, 2017 at 12:51 AM UTC
I awoke one morning
And every morning since
The changes have grown intense, steady, softer.
Ever since those vibrations went coursing
Through my spine,
The neutral path has become enlightened
And my path relaxes in its groove.
Moving confidently towards you.
Trusting each step,
Only asking for what I truly desire.
Accepting nothing less.
Grateful for awareness
And my choice to do my best.
I will only ask for what I truly desire,
I will keep the One in my best interests.
My vision is clearly becoming reality,
Current steps creating it.
Watching my muscles flex as my sole
Touches down.
Getting nearer yet, karma repays debts
In code.
Heart knows it's path,
Riding the waves of my destiny manifest.
May 9, 2017
May 9, 2017 at 9:20 PM UTC
nothing like a mother's loving
when she sings of dreams
unseen by the rest of us
her devotion knows pain
with nothing to gain
yet she smiles like she knows
something we don't
her yielding faith extends
and repays all that lends
yet never counts all the hurt
we put her through
and when we're all at rest
she longs for our best
her prayers trusting and unknowing
nothing like a mother's loving
May 9, 2019
May 9, 2019 at 5:50 PM UTC
His sin sits heavy on his soul, an illicit lust the source of shame.
He’s registered offender now with no means to redeem his name.
Now as he walks the streets of town he studiously avoids all eyes;
those harsh accusing glances from the men and women passing by.
His work is menial and part time. He often moves from place to place.
He had once been a Catholic priest before he fell into disgrace.
I’ve seen him waiting there outside; his collar turned against the cold.
I’d often wondered what had caused his blue grey eyes to look so old.
People whisper; women talk. A yellowed newspaper explains.
Invisible to all but him; his forehead bears the mark of Cain.
Some say the past does not exist. We cannot go there. It can’t be changed.
What would he say, I wonder, if he were asked?
He, whose life is burdened with regrets.
Does he still pray to the Carpenter’s Son,
whose sacrifice repays all debts?
May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 10:56 PM UTC
A lost king alone in his palace.
A king who made mistakes,
And lives in debt.
He drove them away.
Ruined his home,
Soon to be killed,
Old and frail.
Repays day by day,
By remaining lonely.
It's a small price to pay,
For all he's caused.
The games he's played.
Aug 8, 2019
Aug 8, 2019 at 4:56 PM UTC
The eternal source of brilliancy is provided the province of
thought as it cycles thru the organized conscience which you
might ought come to know by it's role of a being that's being
rolled into one, a sole entity with a constant vibrancy that
Genius lent, wherefrom laborers working with hidden aims
and methods can cause dissent amid the source if not well
done: but the tribute paid by a splendid poem repays the
loan without penalties,
( or punishment.)
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 10:48 PM UTC