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"ruing" poems
Never on this side of the grave again, On this side of the river, On this side of the garner of the grain, Never,-- Ever while time flows on and on and on, That narrow noiseless river, Ever while corn bows heavy-headed, wan, Ever,-- Never despairing, often fainting, ruing, But looking back, ah never! Faint yet pursuing, faint yet still pursuing Ever.
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A Life's Parallels
Breathe. Breathe deep, and in between those breaths bring back banished beliefs buried beneath beyond broken bonds and burnt bliss. Embers. Embers everywhere of emotions expecting Elysium’s elusive embrace. Roses. Roses scattering restlessly; rarely receiving reprieve; reminiscing; ruing reproachful ravens resting rigidly; rabidly reaping, rending rotten remains, resenting rainfall refusing remorse. Nostalgia. Nostalgia underneath neon nightlights; noticing nubs, noises, nuances; neither neglecting nameless nonbelievers, nor nurturing narrow-sighted naiveté. Asleep. Asleep amidst fleeting azaleas acknowledging an abandon amplifying already almighty affection; almost altering ancient, ardent, adamant air as an ageless art. Loss. Loss overpowering; lost love, lingering longing, lasting laments. Lachrymose lovers left layers of a limited life within long-forgotten lore; lest labeled Loveless; left little longer living. Yearning. Yearning for the warmth of home. Yesterday, You were yelling ‘YES’ at the top of your lungs, and it was enough. Yet Yggdrasil yielded yew for years and years; young, yellow yeggs yanked asunder Yin from Yang into the ever yonder. Night-time. Night-time symphonies nullify nothingness; nourishing Nyx Nightmother’s need of newfound night-thinkers; napping nonchalantly now, near, and nevermore. ~D.C.
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Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 10:57 PM UTC
My play on 'Imagery'
Read my lips feel my word's know that I care and life will never be fair my massage is so simple loving you was dream was like chilled playing in the rain like blood ruing in vain but not all we dream we can gain so again read my lips feel my word's when I say goodbye , when I love to cry don't you wonder why maybe that my Sacrificere read my lip's and feel my word's
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Dec 8, 2012
Dec 8, 2012 at 10:02 AM UTC
read
This morn lazing in the winter sun He said for us living is no fun On the weather beaten roof His voice was ominously aloof! *Here I’m your unwelcome guest A nuisance to you your garden’s pest But one if not for the irony of fate Would be today your equal primate!* He spoke uneasy on the rough concrete *My home is gone I have no retreat God there played out to a devilish plan Lifting one up from the other of his clan!* He paused mournful in contemplative lull *If only I could have been your equal Would not have come begging on your door Held captive in cage suffer agonies galore!* He curled his lips showing yellowed tooth *If I’m frank and tell you a bare truth Right now I feel like slapping your face To remind it’s for you I made no progress!* Past his bushy brows I saw mirrored in his eyes A reflection of me clothed in human guise The one looking at other both ruing their fate For being down the rung being the superior primate!
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Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 7:01 AM UTC
Primates
The bittersweet harmonies of Barber’s song of ruing carry me back two score years to that day I sat intent on the bench - Barber’s accompaniment on the stand. Ben Walker exploded into the room “Have you heard about the president? ” My blankness answered, “Kennedy's been shot! ” My stiffened fingers lifted from the keys. Dread-filled I stammered, “Will he be all right? ” Unable to utter the words, Ben shook his head. Scenes flicker on our mindscreens like scratched newsreels - tears staining Bernstein’s face, Eroica and Resurrection weeping our televised agony, Oswald doubled over Ruby’s bullets, a toddler's unbearable salute. Watching motorcade frames repeat in slow motion, we careen on rubber legs: a nation’s heart shattered in Dallas. The somber song plays on: Housemans’s words Joined with Barber’s melodies: 'With Rue my Heart is Laden.' April, 2007
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Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 1:25 PM UTC
That Dark November Day
So difficult to enjoy the pleasures of night To truly indulge in my midnight vices When perpetually ruing the rise of the sun Actively rooting against its arrival Secretly wishing science betrays me And the sun never awakens Oh, if only it could be dark forever And the governing laws of the universe Made this one exception for me So that my emotions could openly flourish Without ever being judged by harsh stares If I had one wish, it would be for darkness Total and utter darkness So that I could be lost forever What a beautiful thought indeed
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Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 8:14 PM UTC
A Beautiful Thought
Without ruing all the lost chance should I tell her once or now it's really too late to say what's unsaid from the first date. Stopping long at the tongue's tip they're gone into me hiding deep breathing in heart as one quiet peace speaking their voice in the bud of a kiss. But hasn't died their wish to be told love's alphabets carved in gold uttered in silence at the sight of her till today unsaid till now deferred. Do they need to be told anymore what's embedded within fondly secured or is it so from her first date she's dying to hear those alphabets!
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Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 1:02 PM UTC
Love's Alphabets
I find myself speaking with God In the company of my solitude; As though he is present in the long walks along paths lined with trees Where the only noises are those of leaves of trees rustled by the wind And the only voices are those of birds Who lend their beaks to the wind As though I was another Adam Searching for God’s footstep As I walk over the garden Muttering the litanies of my sins and imperfections Ruing all that I have done which I should not have And all I didn’t do which I should have done Wondering what became of the little boy I once was And how I seem like a sea Where fragments of a sank ship floats And the remnant of his innocence is scattered about Like flotsam, impossible to reassemble I let God listen to the pains in my voice Of being a failed sailor Drowning the sojourners who gave me trust Yet my second journey remains uncertain And not-in-tandem with the wind There is no healing for me in the world I already added iodine to her wounds In her pains, she screams at my conscience And I recoil into my solitude on this solitary path And I find myself speaking to God in my heart, Where I find him
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Sep 14, 2017
Sep 14, 2017 at 2:42 PM UTC
Talking to God
Friends! Remember my camel, that loafer with a permanent grin? he's been a-chewing a-ruing, ruminating, upon the yonder and beyond a-pondering His reins hang loose, his saddle's dusty his bit is chewn his blanket's musty his coat's crusted with the scars of Time he's forlorn for no real reason or rhyme he's footloose as ever, he just has to wander in search of all the oases of the yonder You should see his gait as he kicks up the clods when he plods, he plods and plods and plods and when he saunters, it's quite a canter he and I, we argue, disagree and banter I think I'm his master but he thinks otherwise I wish i could rein him in but i know it's unwise and so i let him have his wayward ways, together we tread this crazy maze. (Just last week I tightened his saddle and he took me to a land all-green-and-no-sand where it rained and sploshed and we both got sloshed... when the clouds parted and clear was the sky he was much younger and so was I he sprang in the air like a kid newborn there was spring in the air, I too was airborne the grass was washed, so was the moss gone from his hair was all the dross he stopped grunting, he sang instead, full of Malayalam thoughts in his head we went to gaze at elephants (loved their finery but not their chained legs) we heard drums in their elements well into the nights we pranced in ******** raptures we tranced and woke up  lazy by mid-afternoons with heads so hazy and postpartum blues) He and I, we've had many a fight o'er who's the one wrong and who's right he's been calling every oasis a mirage I say none of them's a camouflage he's adamant that it's all an illusion that I'm tripping and under a delusion I say I hear him bleat like a goat, I touch his rain-washed mangy coat I see him, like a ship, heave and sway I smell him from quite a mile away yet I ask myself if all this is not Maya, if even mirages weren't of realms higher.
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Feb 27, 2023
Feb 27, 2023 at 8:51 PM UTC
Camel trail
Friends! Remember my camel, that loafer with a permanent grin? he's been a-chewing a-ruing, ruminating, upon the yonder and beyond a-pondering His reins hang loose, his saddle's dusty his bit is chewn his blanket's musty his coat's crusted with the scars of Time he's forlorn for no real reason or rhyme he's footloose as ever, he just has to wander in search of all the oases of the yonder You should see his gait as he kicks up the clods when he plods, he plods and plods and plods and when he saunters, it's quite a canter he and I, we argue, disagree and banter I think I'm his master but he thinks otherwise I wish i could rein him in but i know it's unwise and so i let him have his wayward ways, together we tread this crazy maze. (Just last week I tightened his saddle and he took me to a land all-green-and-no-sand where it rained and sploshed and we both got sloshed... when the clouds parted and clear was the sky he was much younger and so was I he sprang in the air like a kid newborn there was spring in the air, I too was airborne the grass was washed, so was the moss gone from his hair was all the dross he stopped grunting, he sang instead, full of Malayalam thoughts in his head we went to gaze at elephants (loved their finery but not their chained legs) we heard drums in their elements well into the nights we pranced in ******** raptures we tranced and woke up  lazy by mid-afternoons with heads so hazy and postpartum blues) He and I, we've had many a fight o'er who's the one wrong and who's right he's been calling every oasis a mirage I say none of them's a camouflage he's adamant that it's all an illusion that I'm tripping and under a delusion I say I hear him bleat like a goat, I touch his rain-washed mangy coat I see him, like a ship, heave and sway I smell him from quite a mile away yet I ask myself if all this is not Maya, if even mirages weren't of realms higher.
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Frequencies frequently screeching in my ear Causing me to miss things i should obviously hear Ill never learn my leason if the worlds blocked about by this noise But i can't stop it from playing it just over poise Frequencies frequently create to much sound Causing me to freak out and fall to the ground Panic out all the adreniline Or you can take this pill and make it all calm down Freequency frequentky ruing my life stab in the heart like a knife
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Jan 24, 2018
Jan 24, 2018 at 7:14 AM UTC
Frequency
His marriage imploded; smoke and insinuations. It was a shock that he always knew was coming. His conscience sent him North; a man and his bags. He was 38 and had gained weight. A once handsome face melting away into middle-aged near-obesity. Ruing over what he was not proud of, every human interaction was endlessly scrutinised. He felt that he had a true essence that he had not yet uncovered. If he could discover it then he would build a new story around it, one that would get his life back on track. His meals were no hopers; microwaved, industrial and sodium filled. His meals and his days did not nourish him. Feeling lonely, he had started to go to the pub. Although he stuck out, he found the locals rough but friendly enough. They, the 3 lads, were going to come around for a smoke. A little bit of companionship might stop the walls from eating him up. They were all in their mid-twenties, he'd guess, so younger than him but not oddly so. He flipped between politics today and sky sports news; chain smoking like it was a vital function. He drank a can of san pelligrino blood orange, slowly, his mouth overwhelmed by the sugary taste. He sighed from the tip of his toes to the crown of his head. Within an hour, like his marriage he would no longer exist.
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Nov 22, 2019
Nov 22, 2019 at 8:10 AM UTC
Paul Goes North
she left and never said goodbye it made me want to cry as i rode my horse into the sunsets ruing the day she and i ever met once she had pledged true love cooed just like a turtle dove oh i fell real hard penned more lines than that shakespeare bard even slipped her a ring to prove this was no fling watched it dazzle her eyes heard all those lovey-dovey sighs what a farce! she never said goodbye it made me want to cry until that day i saw her struttin  with another guy and thought there but for the grace of God go i!
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Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 8:56 AM UTC
WISE COWBOY BLUES