"roves" poems
Thine eyes shall see the light of distant skies:
Yet, COLE! thy heart shall bear to Europe's strand
A living image of thy native land,
Such as on thine own glorious canvas lies;
Lone lakes--savannas where the bison roves--
Rocks rich with summer garlands--solemn streams--
Skies, where the desert eagle wheels and screams--
Spring bloom and autumn blaze of boundless groves.
Fair scenes shall greet thee where thou goest--fair,
But different--everywhere the trace of men,
Paths, homes, graves, ruins, from the lowest glen
To where life shrinks from the fierce Alpine air,
Gaze on them, till the tears shall dim thy sight,
But keep that earlier, wilder image bright.
5k
Look, you have now broken your back bone
Because of climbing tall trees and high balconies
To spy on your wife as she roves the village,
You climbed a Tall baobab tree up to the apex
To play sentry and spy on your wife
When she went down the river to fetch some water
For you to bathe and wash your jealousy body
And when she met her brother-in –law;
The man from another village across the river
Who greeted her with a prolonged hug
Embracing your wife in his strong arms
They way a giant can do to a beauty model,
Feat of goofy jealous gripped you
And you forgot that you were perching in high danger
At the top of the baobab tree, you left yourself unsupported
As all selfish men can in feats of irrationality
Coming down like a sack of wet sand
Falling in a thud, breaking your poor backbone!
Dude; be warned from spying on your wife.
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 3:25 PM UTC
In measured verse I'll now rehearse
The charms of lovely Anna:
And, first, her mind is unconfined
Like any vast Savannah.
Ontario's lake may fitly speak
Her fancy's ample bound:
Its circuit may, on strict survey
Five hundred miles be found.
Her wit descends on foes and friends
Like famed Niagara's fall;
And travellers gaze in wild amaze,
And listen, one and all.
Her judgment sound, thick, black, profound,
Like transatlantic groves,
Dispenses aid, and friendly shade
To all that in it roves.
If thus her mind to be defined
America exhausts,
And all that's grand in that great land
In similes it costs —
Oh how can I her person try
To image and portray?
How paint the face, the form how trace,
In which those virtues lay?
Another world must be unfurled,
Another language known,
Ere tongue or sound can publish round
Her charms of flesh and bone.
3.6k
Distant in the sky at night,
a profound and shiny light,
the moon slowly moves,
like a sloath on the roves.
A sensation in summertimes,
a cloud that sometimes
dresses the sky of white
when the moon guides my typewrite.
Nov 30, 2020
Nov 30, 2020 at 2:52 AM UTC
He awakes from deep slumber
to find his beloved missing by his side,
again.
Casting off the shroud of dark, dense clouds
He dons the black cloak of night and begins his frenzied search
for Her - the perpetually elusive one :
He scours the skies, cuts through frosty winds,
roves through the infinity of stars desperately seeking Her,
looks down :
at the lonesome road abandoned by commuters
that treaded upon her all day long
at a dingy alleyway where a girl solicits her new owner
for the night - to be used, abused, misused
at the young woman storming her way back home
distraught from a break-up with her Casanova of a lover -
- all this, while She trails behind him
in his quest for love, silently accompanying him
as he drifts over unknown lands,
hoping his agony abates, wanting to tell him
she is there, he could see her.
She, who lends meaning to his being,
his silvery, mesmerising
Moonlight.
Feb 9, 2013
Feb 9, 2013 at 5:47 PM UTC
dear immoral,
salt
seed of
s
la
ughter
enticingly, affably, salt
compassionate psychic stimulates
the pigheaded exclamation
compassionate osculation stands
glove
gives callously
equally, nonetheless, equally
quarrelsome loving glove
a persnickety longshoreman
each persnickety biochemistry
is the
longshoreman cancerous?
A ambiguous certification
a stupid symphony
leads a wizardry
a road worker.
No content,
j
us
t web,
you
r bright face
is suffered with an imagery.
Bridge operator:
agile
computation
today, randomly ordinarily
ah! A
trembling
je
we
ler
confidant loves increasingly
languidly, sociably, spontaneously
Look! A poor ***********
perpetual on my
quick
bible;
my psychotherapy roves
into a
bleeding seashore.
Oxygen
tickles beautifully
boisterous, antisocial, odorous
Look! A quivering predisposition
the
psychoanalysis's
preferably quick
psych
otherapy-
how
ebbing it is!
It has the the depression snowed ordinarily.
It repels the grin into the seashore
a
punishing scream.
Cataclysm predicts perfectly
stupidly sensually noncommittal
unchanging rambling cataclysm
in t
he
unharnessing camaraderie
a perfect board
overshadows
his youth
so
that it is contemporary
grin
quick psychotherapies
I repel quick
this punishing kennel.
The chore
into appreciated camaraderies
psychotherapies rove in it.
A ink stick:
into appreciated ca
mar
aderies
psychotherapies rove in
my own gossip.
Dogmatic, unrealistic cliff
grip
of firefly
realistically, subtly, cliff
Situationist
on my quick bible;
my paralysis roves
onto a crazy seashore.
Situationist on a
journey;
my
paralysis ambles
onto a
crazy hotel.
A equality
onto procreation kings
paralys
is
amble outside of the kings.
Buzzard: omnipotent nullification
extraordinarily, perfectly, saintly
that buzzard is ambitious
Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 12:12 PM UTC
she wanders through the forests and the groves,
her bare feet scarce upon the mossy ground,
as day sinks into night without a sound
and sunset fills the skies with pinks and mauves;
and like a restless breeze she wildly roves,
a love-lost woodland dryad, summer-crowned
and who could ever guess where she was bound,
or why the sea so whispered near the coves.
her eyes as bright as a white-feathered dove,
beyond the river, near a sheltered tree,
she rests awhile finds lilies for her hair,
their flowery mist no prettier than she,
(enchanting in the hearkened, vibrant air,)
her heart soft-brimmed with longing and with love.
Oct 31, 2015
Oct 31, 2015 at 10:44 AM UTC
flying into Chi-town
Altoids of various sizes
litter the scenery.
An artfully constructed
playset thrown off
by the skilled placement
of refreshing breath mints.
Maybe they’re off brand,
or perhaps ecstasy,
though I don’t see any
smiley faces or hearts.
I like to look for high school
tracks as we descend.
Forget the football fields,
they’re far less interesting.
Mostly black, though
sometimes gravel, dirt
or red and even
purple once,
though not in Chi-town.
The homestretch extending beyond
each curve;
no hurdles in sight
much less a sand pit.
A mile inland
there is some sort of water.
The body scattered
and split like some
kind of man-made accident.
shallow sand banks
invisible from the ground look
like dead whales.
floating (submersed) there
like lifeless, sandy corpses.
Maybe it’s because of my “Free ***** spree,
but I see whales.
I’ve never been to Chicago,
only in and out of the airport
and catching glimpses of what I
can see through the windows
of Midway.
My good friend has flown with
me once, but we parted at the
big city.
Have you ever wondered why
cities are built like mountains?
the tallest buildings in the
center with everything
else leading up to it?
Kinda like that Verizon commercial
with the magnet and lead…
Maybe I’ll Google it
to find an answer.
There’s a private airport a
little closer.
(Too good for Southwest to land
there). Private jets and runways
too classy to have a White
Castle across the expressway
from it.
They have cornfields.
Even closer now.
The houses larger with matching
sheds and identical roves.
Almost all have pools, makes
sense for a windy city like
Chi-town.
Some are covered and
nasty for the impending
winter. Playsets and driveways,
minimal trees.
I wonder if the children
ever get scared when
the shadow of a 700 series
darkens their windows and slides.
If they look up and feel warmth
in their Children’s Place pants,
throwing their ice cream to the
wind and catapulting into
the comfort of their father’s
arms and then
write about it 13 years
later after they get off that plane.
“Thank you for flying with us
today, please come back and
see us soon.”
A desperate cry for profit
Dec 14, 2010
Dec 14, 2010 at 5:45 AM UTC
Sleep - Oh my dear friend why do you hide
midst the turbulent brooding that twist
and tumble within my fatigued mind?.
Come, let slumber kiss my heavy eyes,
whilst Luna roves the scene Nox has spread,
waken for me Somnus from his bed
to still thoughts and words erratic chase,
till Morpheus dreams then takes their place:
thence to grant me slumbers precious peace,
Come - settle my mind: Please - let me sleep.
3.30AM ©Michael C Crowder @scorsby
15th February 2021
May 3, 2023
May 3, 2023 at 10:50 AM UTC
Her eyes are homes of silent prayer,
Nor other thought her mind admits
But, he was dead, and there he sits,
And he that brought him back is there.
Then one deep love doth supersede
All other, when her ardent gaze
Roves from the living brother's face,
And rests upon the Life indeed.
All subtle thought, all curious fears,
Borne down by gladness so complete,
She bows, she bathes the Saviour's feet
With costly spikenard and with tears.
Thrice blest whose lives are faithful prayers,
Whose loves in higher love endure;
What souls possess themselves so pure,
Or is there blessedness like theirs?
970
I AM THE PARTY OF A NATION
you see, i am superman, today my friend
i am the party of a nation, oh yeah
i partied in and into every town, yeah dude
i eat up all my party oriental food
for music, the beach boys are good
and so are judas priest and iron maiden are radical dudes
and kiss wants to rock and roll all night, and party every day
and the king and all his subjects, sits down for a feast
i watch all the cool stuff on the computer, youtube internet, dude
and i eat some wild exotic food
i aqm the loudest dude, ya can’t quieten me down
cause i am not like geeky mark on home improvement
i am like the eldest two
ya know the boys who are very naughty
i am picking up good vibrations, ya buckaluck
i am sitting on gold mine, ya buck a luck
cause, if ya know what is good for ya, button up
ya see i like to party with dogs are talking by the angels
and i hate being told i am a little woosey, or an old dogie or a freak
woosesys old dogies and freaks don’t party, as much as me
ya see dudes, ya can’t understand that i am the king of party town
ya see i am a cool party rockin’ dude
i was a cool kid in school
if cool kids throw beer bottles on school roves or crawl between prickle bushes
i nailed the party test, cause i don’t believe in being a square freaky woosey
cause partying is my middle name, and reading poems at the phoenix is my game
RESPECT ME, cause if you don’t, you’ll be shamed from the young dudes
i am not a fighting man, i am a PARTY man, anywhere, phoenix or youtube
i am the party of a nation dude, i am the coolest dude around
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 6:01 AM UTC
Upon the trail, I will tread
Hoping that the darkened avenue
Will conceal the fears that I have fled
Feeling upon my chest the tempest beat accrue
Floundering to gasp my escaping breathes
I toil through the depths and groves
That time’s hand sheathes
Questioning anew my past roves
Knowing that within the question lays the truth
Shall I not search the woeful past?
To expose the crestfallen forsooth
That has amassed
Finding upon the grains of time the paths I took
I wonder if regret would be etched upon the decisions I mistook
Jun 20, 2010
Jun 20, 2010 at 12:44 PM UTC
When he was revealed to you to be naught but ash and stone
his eyes burnt dusty grey that of a thousand campfires grown cold
to feel not
to hear not
draws likeness to hell on earth
the leaves so brown and rusty
pay no attention to the girth of his unnoticed masochistic sorrow
so tomorrow may be better than the rest but in his roving endless mind he will find the greatest unrest
In all things he finds beauty and in all things he finds lonesome boredom
so that is why he roves in search of endless pleasures to quell the restlessness he finds when he
reaches home
Too much time he has been stuck in one place
he grows weary of the endless thoughtless race
to places others hate and where on one wants to be
so on his feet he flees
to the lands devoid of life
to camels
rocks
and the occasional bubbling cree
The shoes too tight the hurt his feet
they leave an aching, tingling feeling
They yearn to begat themselves of his heel
Plead with the sweat between his toes to never grace the skin of any man again
yet he still wears them
He knows they cause blisters
he knows that in those shoes an ever hardening, hateful fungus grows
His wandering feet cannot remember the grass
the heat of asphalt
the agony of sharp glass
What is he to do?
his entire life he has worn some sort of shoe
to walk without?
absurd he laments
He dreams of the day when he will spare no expense
when the shoe he dawns will be the finest in the world
Another 10 years
another 10 he hopes
When his tromping up floors will finally pay off
Will that day ever come?
a bigger car?
a bigger house?
a bigger safe for all his guns?
He pleads
he wonders
blindly through life he blunders
hoping for when things will get better
he was raised not to wonder
raised not to dream
into suited glass himself he must ream
Wanting not of the beautiful himself he will cry
on his deathbed he will see but lonely sky
Too late to fix now
he wished he had realized younger
even fifteen years would have worked
Now he sits
old and broken
feeding breadcrumbs to flightless birds
wishing someone would have spoken
Told him to cast off the shoe that left his foot choking and unable to breathe
His eyes fiery
heart masked with rage
he screams ever upward
bent with age
Broken Heartless
Mourning the loss of his life
Mar 21, 2012
Mar 21, 2012 at 7:58 PM UTC
Trust is the love
It comes from believing
When anybody burns to anyone
Even couldn’t stir afar, no one
It’s called love
Then do you have love?
Care is the love
It depends on serving
When somebody turns to anyone
Even heart feels like a stone
It’s called love
Then do you have love?
Faith is the love
It clicks every nerve
When somebody gets bored alone
Even mind calls up to the bone
It’s called love
Then do you have love?
The need is the love
It always looks alive
When somebody seems good
Even sense feels like a hone
It’s called love
Then do you have love?
The love looks at the time
It doesn’t believe mime
When someone roves with one
Even some feeling is done
It gets closer the love
Then what do you have?
The love looks for prime
It doesn’t ask for a dime
When someone's faith has gone
Then the love is done
It breaks with the love
So what do you have?
The distance interrupts the love
Then doubt breaks the relation
Truly think, what do you have?
Was it real or be it like fashion?
Jul 24, 2017
Jul 24, 2017 at 7:41 AM UTC
hate sings a love song,
blithe, pretty, little tune
in honor of its heritage.
hate sings sweetly, a song
of marches and hangings,
of ghettos and slavery
it hums admiration for its people.
it sings of this land.
the majestic peaks and playful meadows.
it sings, with love, of blood-drenched cotton and
trenches adorned with crooked bodies.
it sings of its forefathers-
the conquistadors and pioneers.
saintly butchers and child rapists.
hate paints it’s history holier than the Sistine Chapel,
singing blindly like a hymn.
hate sings a love song,
possessive and vicious.
it scrawls the lyrics on
subway walls and sycamore trees.
it sings in symbols and metaphors,
accompanied by the beat of temple gunshots and kicks to the ribcage.
hate sings through the pulpit and the pew,
clipping it’s verses from a holy book,
it sways to the rhythm of “Amens” and “Hallelujahs”
hate breathes down my neck and yours,
knocking door to door,
bearing music with a message,
it weeds out the undesirables one by one.
for the greater good,
hate tortures children therapeutically,
and executes those presumed guilty.
it erases generations
in concrete rooms
and in the bellies of ships.
it explodes homes,
smashes panes of glass,
and burns every convenient symbolism.
hate roves and rages and spits and howls,
singing the song of a beautiful future.
Apr 1, 2019
Apr 1, 2019 at 3:29 PM UTC
This blood fat summer has swallowed me whole,
Gulped down my body in one swift inhale,
Living with this pair of fists battering my surface,
One resting on my jaw, another on my gut,
Sleeping under shingles and tin roves,
Waiting for night to settle itself in,
While the others dreamt in their beds,
I wandered twilight streets with a bottle and a question,
Saw my reflection in a puddle under streetlights,
Wondered who’s face stared back at me
An alien memory clawed its way out from beneath my skin
Left a scar for me to remember
The boy I once knew
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 1:06 AM UTC
The walls are made from mossy rough blankets,
buttressed by lumpy pillows.
The flashlight, stolen from the nurse's pocket,
casts yellow moonlight to help him survey the land.
There's a lot growing in these woods
the roves of blood thirsty IV tubes,
the constant clatter from distant lands
piped through the TV from the next door over.
The prognosis is bad,
but he doesn't care
He's protected here,
in his cradled form,
still exploring even as
he takes his last breaths,
ready to conquer new lands.
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 8:41 PM UTC
With magick wiles the heathen girls
Doth the path of justice unfurl
Brandishing their torch of truth
To **** the evil spirits, forsooth
To redeem a stolen, pillaged pearl
All eyes turn round, to see the loves
And upon the naked truth mind roves
Our spirits are our treasure troves
Trodden down by bad man's hoofs
Our torch of truth their evil proves
With hearts of stone that can't be moved
We dance with torch and ward them off
On divine zephyr borne aloft
To go to adoring heavenly cove
Mar 4, 2017
Mar 4, 2017 at 9:56 PM UTC
I penetrate her,
digging for her promises --
my soul roves about.
Feb 4, 2022
Feb 4, 2022 at 3:42 AM UTC
I couldn't find
a mark that's true
falling so far away from you.
words are
ashes in my mouth
though will not let me choke
each glassy eye
that roves on me
Can only see a joke.
I'm gone, so gone
yet permanent. A creature
in a snare.
Engage my tongue, my heart, my skin
Yet you won't find me there.
Give up these earthly
monuments
give up the love that
waned.
each trace of me
A poison.
A human,
Tho abstained.
Nov 16, 2016
Nov 16, 2016 at 10:26 AM UTC
Let cheat the night
And Strip under the moonlight
Make the glowing stars jealous
As my palm spanks your ***
Plant your luscious lips upon mine
And taste the product of my gold mine
Let the universe sing at our awe
While you ****** my breath away
Let me labor as i beg for more
As your sensation takes me to ecstasy door
Trace my mophology
With concentration like you are studying biology
Read My contours,
As my hands take a tour on yours
Let lust burst our love glands
And Wait for momento to land
Lets cross the line
With our whines
As we spice up the night with moans
Gasps and frozen groans
Let our bodies mould
As my pecker roves in your mold
One we become
As the armosphere calm
Deeper let me explore
Motivate me let me not slow
With lust lets as glow
As the night bow
Iet us paint the midnight with slimes of sin
Before the sun rises and naked be seen
Let us sing
As our ****** start raining
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 10:05 AM UTC
Do we record our endless thoughts that we think when we wake,
On the bases of reality of life that gives and take
Do we remember how the hurt felt,the pain of misery struck
how the joy of forgiveness erases and endless smile stuck
Do you remember how the tears of hurt drips with so much hoarse
And how the past is forgotten full of remorse.
Do we recognize the hug that hurts and how heartbreak feels
The friendly hand that makes and how true love heals
Do we recall how test and challenges of life breaks us
And how our strive to overcome makes us
Do we reminisce how the cost of betrayal was a cheap bargain
And how we learn to move on and to build trust again
Do we remember how finding true love was so rare
And how faith and trust erases every atom of fear
Do we remember how hatred creeps,the world roves in greed
And how true care stood as we sang the rhyme of love in a creed
Do we remember the obnoxious past,the wrong turns and harsh choice
And how we live to learn and speak with the right voice
Do we remember the road not taken,the choice not made
And how we finally understood that life is a beauty that will never fade
Do we recall the intriguing fear of death,the shadow it looms with
And how hope of heaven was the life in us,the spectrum of miracle it shines with
Do we now know not to forget life is a beautiful mystery our minds can never understand,
And how gospel of its gift of abyss and bliss intertwined
Jan 17, 2016
Jan 17, 2016 at 6:46 PM UTC
these words glide like honey over my tongue
I feel good in my skin
my mind roves in cream, gentle and soft it says
I feel good in my skin
my breath flows in like spring wind
I feel good in my skin
this body relaxes home into itself and knows
I feel good in my skin
Jul 7, 2018
Jul 7, 2018 at 1:36 AM UTC
I woke and saw that life was love,
I stood akimbo to the sun,
I felt, a spread of joy and light,
A truth that soars like turtle dove,
Within the Infinite spirit roves,
Becoming us as I steal in,
I can't fight back the joy I'm feeling,
Love's aside my stoop and sings,
Effulgently, for everything.
Apr 20, 2017
Apr 20, 2017 at 5:33 AM UTC