"restored" poems
For attractive lips, speak words of kindness.
For lovely eyes, seek out the good in people.
For a slim figure, share your food with the hungry.
For beautiful hair, let a child run his or her fingers through it once a day.
For poise, walk with the knowledge that you never walk alone.
People, even more than things, have to be restored, renewed, revived, reclaimed and redeemed; never throw out anyone.
Remember, if you ever need a helping hand, you'll find one at the end of each of your arms.
As you grow older, you will discover that you have two hands, one for helping yourself, the other for helping others.
The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure she carries, or the way she combs her hair. The beauty of a woman must be seen from in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart, the place where love resides.
The beauty of a woman is not in a ****** mole, but the true beauty in a woman is reflected in her soul. It is the caring that she lovingly gives, the passion that she shows, and the beauty of a woman with passing years only grows!
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 4:03 PM UTC
“Moby **** Herman Melville
<•>
~for the lost at sea~
after a year of saltwater absence and abstinence,
return to the island caught between two land forks
surrounded by river-heading flows
bound for the ocean great joining
the Atlantic welcomes the fresh water fools,
bringing with them hopefully, but hopeless gifts of obeisances,
peace-offerings endeavoring to keep their infinite souls
sea accepts them then drowns the
warm newcomers in the unaccustomed
deep cold salinity, which
sometimes erodes
sometimes preserving
their former freshwater cold originality
I’m called to depart my beach shoreline unarmed,
no kayak, sunfish or glass bottomed boat needed,
walk on water and my toes, ten eyes to see the bottom,
no depth perception limitation,
reading the floor’s topography,
millions of minion’s stories infinite,
many Munch screaming
god’s foot, heavy upon my shoulders,
a daytime travel guide, hired for me,
not a friendly travel companion, nope,
God a pusher showing off a drug called deep water salvation,
designated for the masses, can handle large parties
my in-camera brain eyes,
record everything for playback -
the lost and unburied, bone crossword puzzles
walk shore to ship, on soles to souls,
is this my new-summer nature welcome back greeting?
puzzled at the awesomeness of vastness,
conclude this clarification for me of the occluded-deep,
is a stern reminder of my insignificant existence,
my requirement to walk humbly, spare my sin of vanity, and
forgive my trespasses upon the lives of others
perhaps then the infinite of my soul perchance restored,
older visions clarified and future poems
will write themselves
and sea to it my predecessors
be better remembered
Memorial Day 2018
May 28, 2018
May 28, 2018 at 11:53 AM UTC
Here is a glass of water from my well.
It tastes of rock and root and earth and rain;
It is the best I have, my only spell,
And it is cold, and better than champagne.
Perhaps someone will pass this house one day
To drink, and be restored, and go his way,
Someone in dark confusion as I was
When I drank down cold water in a glass,
Drank a transparent health to keep me sane,
After the bitter mood had gone again.
35.3k
#*Lord Jesus, Plower of my heart,
though the darkness descends around me
and heavy moods fall over me,
though the warm feelings of intimacy begin to fade
and encroaching melancholy threatens to set in
like a cold reversal of the winds,
still I will rejoice in Your presence with me,
for You are causing me to press beyond—
beyond the delightful sense of You
and into the delightful assurance of You.
If I know nothing else, I know that You are here,
You are faithful and You love me.
So I will keep clinging to that
when everything else seems to slip
like dust through my fingers
and all hope of good things
in this life grows dim.
I will cling to the promise
that You are clinging to me,
that You’ve got me no matter what,
that You are never leaving or letting go.
For You are the unchanging I AM
in my ever-changing circumstances,
through my ever-shifting emotions,
over my ever-shaking life
and around my ever-feeble heart.
Here is my hand, Lord Jesus.
I put it safely in Yours and trust You
to lead me through this dark night.
Work Your holy, harrowing fingers
deep into the soil of my heart
until every idol is uprooted,
every stone removed
and every broken place restored.
Thank You, Jesus.
I love You.*#
Aug 1, 2017
Aug 1, 2017 at 5:16 PM UTC
As the glorious LION
Stands strong in stature
Radiating with a presence
Of Absolute rule
The air washed with
A bristly respect
A natural pride
Beams with beauty
He guards the gateway to truth
and only the brave may enter
He is the king that needs no crown
as he holds a royal presence as he
sits in his golden coat and main
Lies spark combust just bounce off
dissolve in all his shine.
As broken men become renewed
Their fractured parts
Collect in the melting ***
Of the Lion's stare
As they are engulfed and swallowed
In the reservoirs of his strength
As the many wounded souls
Find themselves restored
In his majestic presence
As he rattles the very fabric
Of this world
There is no procrastinating belly
Exposed by a lackluster display
No one insults his strength
By creating a make believe world
Or covers him with scaffolding so
That they may alter him
For he is the finished article
And he is never held up or supported
With anyone's emotional ropes or strings
For he no ones puppet
He is never silenced
By the Strangle hold of this world
Tightened with a multitude of gestures
For I hear his ROAR!!!!!!!!
His explosive self expression
As his throat bursts and beams like the sun
Breaking all collars, and his tongue is freed
As a thousand trap doors Open up in him
And boulders are lifted and rocks are shattered
within the sound of his voice.
His Soft pads of silent stealth
Gather for all his wealth
As the power of his pounce
Is governed by both his strength
Of spirit and the honesty
With which he meets the earth
For he owns all of his own pain
And paces and growls to warn
Away any who seek to steal his fresh ****
And diminish him with pretty lies
For he owns all his space
As it feeds his strength
As somewhere in the fury of feasting
Lionesses and Lions
We find our freedom
For his power explodes like a volcano
When his soul meets the earth
As he shakes off all avoidance
To seek only truth
As streaks of white light
And pure Gold glisten in the SUN
As the world's projections
Reflect and bounce off him
There is so much to learn
From a beautiful LION
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 8:17 PM UTC
There came a time in the history of Nigeria when she dreamed for independence,
There came a moment in the history of Nigeria when she groaned to gain freedom from the British;
There came a season in the history of Nigeria when she desired to obtain independence from her rulers.
The moment when she groaned for independence,
The season when she was ready to groam freedom;
The moment when she desired to be independent as a country.
The moment when she seeked her elites to stand up and fight for independence,
The season when she awaited the voice and appearance of her freedom fighters;
The moment whe she believed that independence was ready to answer the call of nature in her country.
The moment when she believed to find freedom and independence which as that missing part of her that made her a complete country,
The season when she trusted and believed in the treasure called independence;
The moment when she hoped and desired to be called an independent and sovereign nation in the history of the world.
The moment when she was expectantant of the mother called independence,
The season when nothing meant anything to her except for the father called freedom;
The moment when she still believe to be an independent country despite foreign exploitations,
with the understanding that she could still stand up on her feet as an independent country.
She believed that someone who understands her tears and passion for freedom and independence,
will arise and fight for her freedom knowing that he will never bear to see her travail in birth for independence.
The elites she knew not but believed was out some where fortiing and preparing themselves for independence and fight for freedom.
Independence she waited for like an expectand mother of a child,
Each step she took was believed to bring her closer to freedom and independence.
She believed in freedom and independence for her country and it's occupants, and not
colonisation and exploitation from the British colony.
She believed in fighting for freedom and independence than dying a coward,
She believed in her elites efforts to obtain her independence and sovereignty.
She expected her elites to stand up and rage for independence to freedom and sovereignty,
which they did when the opportunity and strategy came for them to uphold.
She believed that destiny will bring her independence and freedom,
when the hour of liberation from exploitation comes.
She believed that her pains and heart beat was felt and understood by her elites.
The name independence she was passionate about and the fame freedom she was desperate about.
The memories of colonisation she groaned to erase and the histories of exploitation she desired to filtrate.
The name independence she struggled to uphold and the gain freedom she strived to unfold.
Before her moment of independence,
she strived to make full proof of her countrie's ambitions,
she sort self asset and not self liability.
She seeked and desired independence and freedom from exploitaion which she got.
Her dignity and hour as a country was restored on that fateful day of October 1, 1960 whe she gained and famed her independence and freedom.
She believed in independence and freedom which she got.
The death of her elites and freedom fighters was never in vain.
This is Nigeria At 53 and she is still a sovereign and independent country.
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 4:28 AM UTC
upon the elephant rode a boy prince,
his royal command, he was there to evince.
dark with grace and dripping with youth.
bringing his men, his crown and his couth.
town after town he strode fierce through the gates.
and any detractors were left to cruel fates.
and on one windy day, as they strode into town.
the faces where tenfold and a hush passed around
the grey of the creature with knowing black eyes
swayed left towards the crowd as if to capsize.
and the mass gasped in horror; bairns seized by their mam.
men flung at young ladies, babes pulled from the pram.
the bewildered and flustered
tired elephant sat.
in the center of all on the bald pastors hat.
the old pastor looked stunned to see such a disgrace.
until he remembered, and composed his face.
'your highness' he bowed. his manners restored.
but the poor prince was toppled his mighty seat floored.
they gasped for the prince, just really a child
dressed in fine silks on this elephant wild.
pastor said, 'here now' extending an arm
hand wrinkled and gnarled from the land that he farmed.
then the guards sprung to life as if sudden awake
guns point to the man of whose life they would take.
and just as they squinted their eye for the aim
a boy sang out sweetly, 'sire he's not to blame!'
and the prince from street where he lay in pool
held up his hand and recovered his rule.
he looked at the crowd and he said 'boy now speak'
the boy said, 'prince it is the prayers that you seek.
the prayers that you'd visit. the prayers that you'd stay.
lord must of heard them and granted this way.'
his eyes wide with truth and the love of his church
the prince laughed a beautiful belly filled lurch.
the carriage was called as the prince shared a feast.
and even some water was splashed on the beast.
such a good time as he danced and he spun
till the horses arrived in the dust of a run.
to thank the town and the lovely haired boy
the young prince gave up his own precious toy.
the beast stays quite put in the center of town...
but prayers said no more...so the prince won't fall down.
sahn
04/10/2014
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 6:08 PM UTC
#*Let the evil within be annihilated
And grey be restored
Rejuvenated to vibrancy of colours of love
Dispersion of love and light
Through the prismatic heart
Every soul be washed anew
In colours of the rainbow in mirthful hues
Forgive and forget, past hurt
And in the beauty of love, regale
Let’s celebrate
Holi
The festival of colours, harbinger of spring*#
Mar 20, 2019
Mar 20, 2019 at 4:58 PM UTC
Oh Helena, how I doth know thy pain
Mocked is thine love when at love's feet thrown
Love hath looked upon thee with disdain
And yet still for him thy love hath grown
Do not despair Cupid's arrow at thine door does knock!
Upon thee, loves eyes an awakening will be placed
No longer can love's spiteful eyes see thee and mock!
And to thine love will he quickly rush in haste
But first know before one is to have thy way
A comedy must first be struck upon
Alas Puck! Disaster hath struck and a game we must all play
Before order is once more restored and the past foregone
Oh no! Now a love thrown upon thee unwanted
Mockery suspected, no more of this dost thou deserve
Evermore another feeling given to thee daunted
But now sit back, let the story unfurl and observe!
Finally soft words to thee spoken so craved
At once entranced but then felt thee a fool!
From nowhere sweet words so spoken must be depraved!
And in thine heart feeling loves sting ever so cruel
Now thy dearest friend! Intertwined within such a conspiracy
Such betrayal! Dear girl know it is a mistake
Albeit twisted and buried in the cruelest irony
Thy dearest friend, thine love she does not wish to shake
Through troubles and trials thou maketh thy way to a beautiful field
Fast asleep next to the love thy value ever so
Puck, fix thy mistake, give Helena her love to finally wield
And at last house a mutual love to forever grow
Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 11:16 PM UTC
she was like
a wilting flower
drained of all things
that kept the others upright
he was like
a rushing brook
who saw her crumpled and tired,
crowded by overgrown weeds,
and wanted nothing more
than to clear the earth around her
and see her bloom again
so he took all he had
and poured it into her
and when finally the pinkness
had returned to her cheeks
she looked back at him
and saw that
he was now like
a withering shrub
frail and planted in dry clay
and despite the deep conviction
she had in her heart to restore him
like he had restored her
all of her best efforts
left her with with exposed roots
and dirt beneath her fingernails
he wouldn’t let her stay
to continue to try
to quench his thirst
so she left him with a watering can
and promised he’d soon find relief
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 4:09 PM UTC
Give him a skinhead, insignia, boots
Less scruples, a swagger-stick, crowds, money.
No black shirts visible. Just business suits,
and pride is restored: tragic but funny.
Proud like a skyscraper, godless as sin
Babylonian promises, towering lies
Reality shows when plutocrats win,
Their rhetoric raining from empty skies.
She-wolves, elected by uninformed sheep
behave predictably, eyeing the flock
Their wool (and the lamb-chops) are hers to keep
Grazing voter—this should come as no shock.
It’s a bitter pill (more like pilloried)
So shall we now be ******* or Hillary-ed?
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 8:59 PM UTC
Hear the LION'S ROAR
As the many indignant souls
Find themselves restored
In his majestic presence
As he rattles the very fabric
Of this world as many
Broken men become renewed
Their fractured parts
Collect in the melting ***
Of the Lions stare
So let us all dare
To live life like a Lion
Lounging in the sun
Owning and surveying
His beautiful life
Storing great forces
Reservoirs of strength
To pounce and punch
Soft pads of silent stealth
Gather for all his wealth
His appetite strong
He honors every parts of self
But there is no where
To hide in the cats eye stare
As my many fumbling phoney selves
Dissolve in his melting glare
As I am shamed by a look
As I approach life like a crook
My procrastinating belly exposed
In my lack luster display
As I breath a contempt
For my precious life
Standing strong in stature
And rich in golden shine
Radiating with a presence
Of Absolute rule
The air washed with
A bristly respect
A natural pride
Beams with a beauty
Freed from all that is false
His being effortlessly
Embraces the fields
Of his own nature
As I am silenced by
The strangle hold of this
Bitter dysfunctional world
Tightened by a
Multitude of silent gestures
I sit to listen
To the LION'S ROAR
I feel my throat burst
My gagged tongue freed
My choked throat
Beams like the sun
As I softly delve
In to the LION'S ROAR
An open infinity
Cuts my many collars
Releasing my self expression
As a thousand trap doors
Open in me
Learning from the loving LION
Our self expression freed
And our appetite renewed
We live a new adventure
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 5:13 PM UTC
I have found myself related to Gomer;
yes, I am also a hustler.
She had relationships with different men,
while I engaged myself with my own selfish plans.
She slept with them for so many nights,
while I slept with selfless thoughts, unaware it wasn't right.
She had correlation thinking it was alright,
while I linked myself with faulty motives and to it I delight.
We were ****** in our different ways.
Unrighteous deeds we both had praised.
It corrupted her mind and body,
while it made me a ********** spiritually.
In the midst of my unfaithfulness and cruelness,
I have found love and forgiveness.
For love came down and bought me with a price,
showed me the beautiful meaning of sacrifice.
The blood of the lamb cleansed and restored my impure soul.
An enough reason that makes me whole.
-Steph Dionisio, December 02, 2015
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 7:45 AM UTC
Fold you up like unwanted fat
cook you into a rocky stew
placed beneath a mantle of ice
far enough away to be misconstrued
You are old laminated time
And pillowed rock of incomprehensible
Earlier than any lime
Or sand, or sediment, or any kind
You are the grandfather rock
of mine
When I step with my inconsequential feet
living but transiently
I cannot help but be erased
that even you hath but one resting place
All the plants
and sands
and ever since the very first
we have always been ******
to this earth
walking upon your bones
I am sorry we cannot do more
but you know your creator
Speak in the same language
in amalgamators
of which we have forgot
and for that I can say
we are envious; are we naught?
Build softly, and carry us upon your thick
crust like pizza dough, cooking
and you let it sit
Let us win, set us up
drift us apart, leave us crushed
build us,
make us,
break us,
fill us
I want to be restored into your
stony belt and be redeemed
I want to become my own atomic fossil
to connect with the universe through long-lost
plotholes
and once again
hear the story
as a young lad
the way it was meant to be told
I want to eat dinner with my grandfather again
my real sweet stony-chiseled cheeked
father again
to be loved a boy
and a girl
and the whole world
a soul touched back into the deep
left unshackled
by a ***** or a queen
please,
take me back soon
rather than let me turn into
Laurentia
or Baltica
or Gondwana
alack
smacked into new rock to form
Urals
and Tetons
and Moher
back
Carbonate or Silicate,
and the end its the same
It won't be the end
for that fate rearranged
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 2:08 AM UTC
1259
A Wind that rose
Though not a Leaf
In any Forest stirred
But with itself did cold engage
Beyond the Realm of Bird—
A Wind that woke a lone Delight
Like Separation’s Swell
Restored in Arctic Confidence
To the Invisible—
5.3k
NAKED BUS
She catches the London bus
in her fist.
Gnaws it...then throws it
through the window.
Lucky the window wasn't
closed.
She chews it when
teething.
Chews its redness
- off.
She is amazed to see
the real thing for the first time.
For her
her toy has grown into a giant.
Then she discovers double-deckers.
Counts: "One double-decker bus...two double-decker buses
...24 double decker buses!"
It is unbelievably so!
Doesn't know she is counting
the same bus twice!
And now to add to her
amazement she
encounters a green bus!
Will the excitement never end.
"The bus has changed its clothes?"
she says unsure that this can be so.
But now confounded by a bus
all in white!
Even we have never seen
a bus in white.
It looks like it has taken
all its clothes off.
A **** bus!
But to her it's worse
far worse than that!
"The bus has taken
it's skin off!"
She refuses to go on
this skinless bus.
We wait for a "normal"
bus to somehow appear.
And appear it does
busy being a red bus.
The world of buses
restored to its proper order.
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 5:07 PM UTC
Hello any of Eddie's friends on HP or even you Christians who don't know Eddie from eddiestarrpoetry most know him and his wonderful writings on Jesus Christ .. Eddie has been a friend to all of us, as he's been trying to show you the real way to live, life and love and forgiveness. And show you there is eternal life in Jesus Christ alone!!! A loving merciful Savior... Eddie wanted me to tell everyone why he hasn't been on HP lately. Reason is he got into some type of accident long ago don't know how it happened just know it messed up his brain, causing brain damage. So he's been healed of having his life restored to him praise God!!! Though he still has been getting horrible head pains and it's making him sick and in pain... He's always praying for me and you and those he hasn't met on here to know yehsua ha'mashiach- ( meaning Jesus the Messiah) in Hebrew tongue... Jesus Christ!!! Eddie is truly a man of God and a loving forgiving man... Whether you respect him or dont respect him. Put that away for now and pray for his head is all I ask you that God may heal his headpains sorrows. Lonesomeness and that God made show Eddie gods will for edds life.. I hope others will pray for him and continue to pray for this man. Because he prays for all of you even ones he don't know he prays you come to know the one and only Savior a loving Jesus and forgiving Lord and king of kings... And God's only son who died for me and you... So this is why Eddie's not been on HP lots... Please pray for him if this message touches your heart and you want God to heal Eddie...for all things are for the good to those that love god...and God will do stuff in his time not ours... Humans always want things our way. We seem to forget were suppose to live for God's will and choices not our selfish wills. Hope and pray others may pray for eddiestarr. Thank you and by ending with that wanna write poetic prayer for Eddie not really poem. Lol just quick prayer for you Eddie!!!
Dear God, heavenly father ... I come to you today to ask for your healing and mercy upon my brother Eddie , God I ask you may touch Eddie's head... That you may heal whatever's happening with the pains in his brain and head .. I pray dear God you can heal Eddie from his toes to the top of his head. I pray Lord God for your anointing over Eddie. That your angels may be upon him, as well as your holy spirit may be sent to him in his times or lonesomeness, sorrow, pain physical mental emotional spiritual. God please give Eddie peace in all aspects of his life and I come to you today God. To heal Eddie fully that his life may be abundant and as once was... And God please show Eddie his purpose here on this earth before you take him LORD... Show Eddie you are in control and there's no reason to fear even in sickness. For you are the great healing physician dear God. I beg ask and pray for your loving kindness over Eddie and mercy and grace. And your healing will come whether in Eddie's time or in your own. For me and Eddie know all things work together for good to those that love you dear God. Please guide Eddie in his hard times right now and sickness. I ask and pray and thank you Lord for hearing my prayer ...
In Jesus name I pray
Amen!!!
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 2:14 PM UTC
In Hebrew, her name means devoted to God
She was consecrated,
An oath to God
But she never fulfilled her purpose, for she went astray
Endless and countless sins, undeniably a sinner
Living not according to the Almighty's will, but
Living according to her choice, so
Expect her to be, both good and bad
Imperfect she is, but it is what makes her human
Special, she may not be, but still out of the ordinary
Many times she was lost
Yet, still managed to be found
Not wanting to be astray, again she trusted the invisible hand
Afraid of what might she become, again she started to pray
Miserably she asked for His guidance,
Enlightened, her faith restored, and now trying to serve her purpose
Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 8:12 PM UTC
How sweet the name of Cthulhu sounds
In raving mystics' screams!
It drives them mad, enflames their brains,
And troubles all their dreams.
It brings insanity and dread
Into the world of men,
This world which once seemed safe and sane
Shall not make sense again.
We gaze upon thy face more dread
Than any watchful dragon;
And sing the eternal hymn to thee,
Ia ia Cthulhu fhtagn.
Cthulhu! my dead yet sleeping king,
Thy cults shall be restored,
Thy tomb shall rise to air again,
Just, r'lyeh, r'lyeh, Lord.
Weak is our twisted woodland dance
And cold our campfires cursed,
But when the stars shall rise aright,
We shall be eaten first.
May 23, 2010
May 23, 2010 at 6:26 PM UTC
I've been digging
through this dumpster
far too long
trying to get to the bottom of it all.
Slimey sweet stench
there's my first love
my first pipe
my last light
my first rush
my last gush
my first bet
my last buck
"the game ain't over
until the rent money's gone."
I am down a deep hole
and my only tool is a shovel
I've got that one choice
but to go
down
down
down.
Drunk and dial
Drunk and poetry
how did I get here
how do I get out?
I'm a spiritual wasteland
connected to no one
connected to nothing
My drug
My man
My woman
My casino
The rush comes first
The numbness comes last
until
death, insanity or jail
is within my grasp.
I do what I do
But I am allergic too
you understand
when I do what I do
I break out in handcuffs
jail cells
strapped down to beds
looking around
longing for my dumpster
and
what I might have found.
1st Step
12th Step
I've done them all
though the 13th Step
I liked the best
Sponsors have come and gone
Spiritual awakenings
have all been done
I am back in this dumpster
where I had begun.
There is an exquisite mystery
at the heart of it all
the internal shift
happens
an inside job
The 21 year old's first black out
enough is enough
The 60 year old
on his fifth DUI
going out for one more round.
It is true
I have seen it many times
Recovery can be found
Hope restored
Wisdom in these halls
Peace within these walls
The dumpster closed
and left behind
A ladder falls and arrives
acceptance and gratitude
combine
as they say
"One day at a time."
Feb 11, 2014
Feb 11, 2014 at 9:57 AM UTC
I am the barbed thorn
the serrated reward
facing savage cruel winter;
sedition in transmission.
I am the only pawn
on your chequered board
facing a feisty queen;
of restricting submission.
I am the demonic exon
a heraldic discord
facing bleak futures;
an inherent disposition.
I am the stillborn reborn
the aberration restored
facing anomalies instability;
violation on a mission.
I am broken and worn
a fallen sword
facing a grim battle;
outnumbered by division.
I am the brass horn
the out of tune chord
facing orchestral expulsion;
a musician in remission.
I am history's forewarn
the contrite accord ignored
facing penitent absolution;
clemency in transition.
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 10:32 PM UTC
She is a work of art
The epitome of beauty
Covered in her African butter
She wears a crown handcrafted by God
When her foot touches the ground even the devil bows down
She was happy with her perfect imperfections
Till you came along and made her feel like absolute trash
Playing mind games, you're really good at that
Threatened by her crown, you told her to take it off
"Straighten that Bush over your head"
Told her that her berry was not sweet enough
" Bleach your skin, light is the new beautiful "
When you were out with your peasant till 2am
She started reconnecting with the God within her
And He restored her confidence
When you least expected it, she packed her bags
Put her crown back on and went back to owning her throne
You and your cheap peasant didn't even last after her
You can't enjoy your side dish without your main meal
Now tell me....
How on earth do you even sleep at night?
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 10:24 AM UTC
**inspired by
Lidi Minuet
and her poem
"HATCH"**
I found an egg of crystal
it had a little crack
though beautiful as opals
integrity it lacked
I asked the Lord to help me
"whatever should I do?"
He told me to go and plant it
when the day was new
and so I looked for soil
but no soft could be found
so I planted my wee egg
in hard, forbidding
ground
I watered it with tears
for others suffering lack
and after a little while
the ground
began to
crack!
a tentative green sprout
pushed up its tender head
it grew up from the rocky ground
I had thought so dead!
I continued watering
I knew naught else to do
and a tulip flower appeared
the lightest
eggshell blue!
I watered then in earnest!
I wanted for to see
that flower strong and healthy
and what it'd bloom to be!
slowly the petals opened
and lo! there fast emerged
a'singing and a'fluttering
a little crystal bird!
out of the light blue flower
the creature dipped and soared
it was then I realized
my hope had been restored!
flying 'round my head
its feathers sent off light
as brilliant as a diamond
shattering the night
it was only then I realized
as the darkness fell apart
the soil was life's hardships
and the
egg
had been my
HEART
SoulSurvivor
(C) 12/17/2015
Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 6:17 AM UTC
the grass, leaning in the south wind , seeming
as if emeralds, had sent tendrils up
to suckle at the yellow breast, now, high above inflamed....
over soft new
grass
like
strands of green gemstone,
as delicate as humming-bird tongues
teasing nectar
from a titan,
in the sky
triumphant in the void,
a golden bead in the baffling blue !
cattails, curling in sway...and two brown eyes bob upon the surface
of a myriad fertilities.
as if
nature itself had known, one day
a poet would come ~
to roam the rambling renascence of these remote ramparts
in awesome humility ~ and so prepared
a path afflux
that ambled near
and yes !
an
anonymous nomad
with nicotine skin and a scabbard of scandalous quills
would indeed
stumble in as if returning home
to a mansion restored to glory
and seraphic randomness....
a place
that in youth, sustained a quiet, soulful troubadour
by gospels of granite and grain, grass finch
and faun - ennobling an oracle ... but now
enticed a scholar from his cot
to jot ephemera
of outlasting spark
before dark-fall
and so... there
amid all allurement and soft machines
a word-smith gathered
poesy and prose.
muse-driven
this one served
an invisible
sovereign
one
of unsurpassed virility
who charms kaleidoscopes
with offhand sketches
rescued
from
a landfill
a basket weaver,
that unravels to
achieve pure
forms
a wineskin was decanted in dianthus and hollies -
as ampules of anagrams
were sold unscrambled, to dyslexics
without hope
a falcon frolicked above the lowborn lilies...
with eyes
too keen
to see a
blur
as the hand
of god
or a vole
as a lifeline
on his
palm.
Sep 8, 2012
Sep 8, 2012 at 6:15 PM UTC
I did my part, by staying in.
So effective, bored.
It’s a sacrifice.
The soul is very passionate.
The isolating, the flattening.
Foraging coercion.
For Immuno compromised persons!
Stay in your homes.
Prevent the increase in tombstones!
Then pat yourself on the back.
Knowing all the people you have saved!
Staying in, flattening the curve again.
Outcome, only time will tell.
Feeling relieved I’m not the only one!
And the stupidity will **** us all.
Hoarding toilet paper from the aisles.
But no one else can see.
The effects this has on the elderly.
Social distance, social distance, social distance.
Social distance, social distance, social distance.
Oh, there are arrogant ******** not taking this seriously.
But there are others doing their part.
The nurses and doctors have gone mad.
With people taking all their masks.
But when we cure it all,
The faith will be restored,
Who hopes we will be blessed?
We could start over,
Just cover your mouth when you cough!
It’s that simple.
Now there’s time to watch streaming platforms.
Helpfulness, committed.
To doing what I can.
I’m not the only one.
And the stupidity will **** us all.
Hoarding toilet paper from the aisles.
But no one else can see.
The effects this has on the elderly.
Social distance, social distance, social distance.
Social distance, social distance, social distance.
The limits of the research.
The limits of the research.
The limits of the research.
Fake news outlets (social distance)
Only check AHS, for info (social distance)
Your support to fund research would help (social distance)
Can’t stop the spread (social distance)
If you don’t stay home (social distance)
This is a must (social distance)
I’m not the only one.
And the stupidity will **** us all.
Hoarding toilet paper from the aisles.
But no one else can see.
The effects this has on the elderly.
And the stupidity will **** us all.
Hoarding toilet paper from the aisles.
But no one else can see.
The effects this has on the elderly.
The limits of the research.
The limits of the research.
Apr 5, 2020
Apr 5, 2020 at 1:51 PM UTC