"seemly" poems
Rolling with the hunches
Safety in a tiger's eye
Has become a lucid scent, a possible unction
To the staring hour, we remember for denial...?
Saviors to break for it...
Sated pleas of untoward necessity...
Themselves, in the grasp of order and wit...
Speed of patience, to a wealth we knew should, politely...
The thunder we dote, was a marvel...?
Sent to merit for the ultimatum baring
Brief as loves boredom can be, the smile is actual
Where sincerity is from ear to ear, the want of caring
Do you remember me?
Like calling a kiss a sweet lightning
Come from the cloud, we devote to ourselves, see
The question of unity become our only hope, realizing...
A real tooth of repose and hindrance, that knows, you
Ready to chew nothing but the thought, of callous interim
Where we are, the tone of a silent voice to see the rue
Of compliment, are we that we are, a solution to anarchy's whim?
Sweet deliverance
Set to wishes only a courage's mind could blow
Forces and prowess to assure an imagination with seemly chance
Timid as we are, is a truth the only, when in the house to know?
Jan 6, 2024
Jan 6, 2024 at 4:36 PM UTC
Hear ye my statute, men of Attica--
Ye who of bloodshed judge this primal cause;
Yea, and in future age shall Aegeus's host
Revere this court of jurors. This the hill
Of Ares, seat of Amazons, their tent,
What time 'gainst Theseus, breathing hate, they came,
Waging fierce battle, and their towers upreared,
A counter-fortress to Acropolis;--
To Ares they did sacrifice, and hence
This rock is titled Areopagus.
Here then shall sacred Awe, to Fear allied,
By day and night my lieges hold from wrong,
Save if themselves do innovate my laws,
If thou with mud, or influx base, bedim
The sparkling water, nought thou'lt find to drink.
Nor Anarchy, nor Tyrant's lawless rule
Commend I to my people's reverence;--
Nor let them banish from their city Fear;
For who 'mong men, uncurbed by fear, is just?
Thus holding Awe in seemly reverence,
A bulwark for your State shall ye possess,
A safeguard to protect your city walls,
Such as no mortals otherwhere can boast,
Neither in Scythia, nor in Pelops's realm.
Behold! This Court august, untouched by bribes,
Sharp to avenge, wakeful for those who sleep,
Establish I, a bulwark to this land.
This charge, extending to all future time,
I give my lieges. Meet it as ye rise,
Assume the pebbles, and decide the cause,
Your oath revering. All hath now been said.
3.6k
My glass shall not persuade me I am old
So long as youth and thou are of one date;
But when in thee Time’s furrows I behold,
Then look I death my days should expiate.
For all that beauty that doth cover thee
Is but the seemly raiment of my heart,
Which in thy breast doth live, as thine in me.
How can I then be elder than thou art?
O, therefore, love, be of thyself so wary
As I not for myself, but for thee will,
Bearing thy heart, which I will keep so chary
As tender nurse her babe from faring ill.
Presume not on thy heart when mine is slain;
Thou gav’st me thine, not to give back again.
2.8k
You thought it was only fun
The nightmares seemly just a dream
You thought you could laugh, but it's begun
All you can do now is only scream
The creepy old man took your money
Something wasn't right, but you didn't think
Now the horror has started, it's no longer funny
Deeper into this terror you will sink
There is no escape, on this dark ride
Trapped on here, forever to remain
Opened doors swallowed you up inside
You are going to Hell on the Ghost Train
Condemned souls that drown in blood, you pass
Prisoners burning in Brimstone flame, you see
There is no getting off, you're way out of your class
You are his captive now, you will never be set free
You can feel the fear coming from deep down inside
One last tilt, one last drop, as you turn the bend
This is it now, this is the final part of the ride
He is waiting for you, Satan is there at the end
There is no escape, on this dark ride
Trapped below now, forever to remain
Hell swallowed you up, there is no place to hide
You are trapped by the Devil on the Ghost Train
Jul 18, 2010
Jul 18, 2010 at 10:31 PM UTC
I’m the girl with the loudest laugh in the crowd, who warms the bodies of those who surround with happiness; the girl who puts on a smile and lights up the room, the girl who is there for everyone in their times of lonesome tears and times of trouble.
Within my laughs are cries of pain; among my lips is a dreadful control, constantly attempting to stop the quivering muscles; inside the bright room, the shadows wrap around me in their soothing embrace, drawing me into their abyss yet again; I’m the girl who wants to be comforted, calmed, and loved.
Notice me, and what I entail. Listen to my words, and try to understand their meaning. Look into my eyes and hear their quiet whispers as they spill out the secrets of sable struggles, a seemly sacrificed soul, and a sensibly sobered sanity.
This illness crawls through my brain, embedding the virus deeper into me, and stripping away all remembrances of my wholesome well-being. My body shivers and shutters despite the piles of blankets on top of me, or the two jackets upon my back. This physical cold is nothing compared to the grim cold running through my veins. I’m dawned with illness as my muscles shake and strain from the trifling weight of my own sorrow.
With each brush stroke, more hair comes out. The dark, twined mane falls on the floor of my bathroom tub, haunting me with judgment. My nails are peeled, the bags under my eyes darkened, the shine from my hair gone; all to feel normal. I stare at my reflection in the mirror, why am I doing this to myself?
___________________________________
eating disorders, bulimia, depression, lost, lonely, depressed, struggles, pain, coping, mia, ana, life
Sep 22, 2013
Sep 22, 2013 at 5:11 PM UTC
Millay Has Her Way with a Vassar Professor
by Michael R. Burch
After a night of hard drinking and spreading her legs,
Millay hits the dorm, where the Vassar don begs:
“Please act more chastely, more discretely, more seemly!”
(His name, let’s assume, was, er ... Percival Queemly.)
“Expel me! Expel me!”—She flashes her eyes.
“Oh! Please! No! I couldn’t! That wouldn’t be wise,
for a great banished Shelley would tarnish my name ...
Eek! My game will be lame if I can’t milque your fame!”
“Continue to live here—carouse as you please!”
the beleaguered don sighs as he sags to his knees.
Millay grinds her crotch half an inch from his nose:
“I can live in your hellhole, strange man, I suppose ...
but the price is your firstborn, whom I’ll sacrifice to Moloch.”
(Which explains what became of pale Percy’s son, Enoch.)
Originally published by Lucid Rhythms. This poem is based on an account of Edna St. Vincent Millay being confronted by a male Vassar authority about her rogue behavior. However, there is a some poetic license involved, for the sake of humor. It was actually Vassar President Henry Noble MacCracken who mentioned Shelley. Here is his account in a response to a question about Millay cutting classes: "She cut everything. I once called her in and told her, 'I want you to know that you couldn't break any rule that would make me vote for your expulsion. I don't want to have any dead Shelleys on my doorstep, and I don't care what you do.' She went to the window and looked out and she said, 'Well on those terms I think I can continue to live in this hellhole.'" The stuff about Enoch and Moloch is, of course, pure fabrication on my part.
Keywords/Tags: Millay, dead, Shelley, Vassar, dorm, hellhole, drinking, partying, *** cutting classes
Apr 17, 2020
Apr 17, 2020 at 12:32 AM UTC
So, I am simple, not rude.
Perhaps a little crude.
But, people usually won't act.
So it's dignity that they lack.
Sure my edges are torn and shredded.
Not as though this can't be mended.
Asking simply for the chance
to spark a bit of romance.
This request was met with pain.
Though it wasn't all in vein.
All I needed was a glance,
to inspire a hint of forward advance.
Although it could have been nice,
at me she wouldn't look twice.
So now I spend my days missing a friend.
Praying for my loneliness to end
I just need this to go away!
Find some shelter, a place to stay.
Just to try and weather the storm
and get back to my original form
Yet it seems no matter what I seek,
my arrangements appear far to meek.
I just can't escape realizing it's all too late.
I came,
I saw,
I lost
No time to even pause
Now I'm left with a life un-lived.
Twenty years young with dreams well hid.
What is left for me to do,
but fashion myself a good ole noose?
Though I enjoy the sentiment.
I can't really deem it an accomplishment.
So now I retreat check the horn,
turn on the T.V and watch a little ****
...
These seemly men talking to seemingly underage girls about a seamless transition into a whole new world.
...
Not even a past time I can enjoy,
scenes just drift by the by.
With one click,
I was on to a new flick.
Not quite Cinimax.
So no more visualized ******
Just the tale of a bride to be,
and the husband she could not bare to see.
(Insert True Love...)
Apr 4, 2012
Apr 4, 2012 at 1:02 AM UTC
2/6/35 4:57pm
“and let the boys
Bring flowers in last month's newspapers.
Let be be finale of seem.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.”
<•>
Let X
(mark the spot)
Let X
be what it seems
Let X
be the finale,
the answer it seems
to be,
not the necessary one
you wish it to be,
but what be
seemly
the sense of The End,
the final descent,
the last landing
(or perhaps the first takeoff)
let it be,
be a finale,
Let X
be the finale,
Let Be
the answer it seems to be
let be
Feb 6, 2025
Feb 6, 2025 at 5:04 PM UTC
yestereve we succame
A lengthy ballad of longing
formerly one of obstinance
flared in a cacophony of passion
Whilst usually twirling in a seemly epitome fashion,
yestereve a caprice thought laid heavy on hearts
as there was no doubt of desire
nor were there objections to her
for even when my affections consumed you
lady desire was just an inexorable
yestereve she picked petals from a Sinensis blossom
there went the pain
any semblance of grudge
along with sanity
reason
and lastly, walls as carefully constructed as that of Pyramus and Thisbe's
such vulnerability unmatched
for your sweet scent lulled me from the arms of reason
for reason, although safe,
is the most intricate and fragile part of the ballad
and the first to fall victim to the cascade
What a fool I must be to have gladly forgotten the kinks of your hands
or the freckles on the back of your neck that form a perfect triad.
The way your upper lip curls when you grin
made my glissade blissful and passionate
Your flustered twirl
the very epitome of aubade
Ignorant of the harsh retombe of reality
Your flustered face En L'air
Every touch a pleasant surprise that formed a grand symphony
A moment of unfiltered emotion
A heavenly ballad
so cruelly of yestereve.
Apr 16, 2021
Apr 16, 2021 at 2:37 PM UTC
Life is not a spectator sport
If an injustice bothers you
don't just sit on the sidelines
take action
If you want to see changes in the world
don't just wait for others to act take the first step
yourself
Don't wait too long
You don't want to die
wishing that you had done more
that if only you had truly lived
and made an impact on others
living selflessly
instead of selfishly
Hero's are often found in ordinary people
who have the courage to do
seemly extraordinary things
We all have the same potential to take action
to preserve our basic human rights and the rights
of those around us and the potential to make a Global impact
If you observe discrimination and injustice
don't simply be a bystander
instead take action
By not taking action you are being part of the problem
instead of the solution
If you are not sure what to do
talk to a trustworthy person that can help you
if you need to make a formal complaint
muster up the courage to do so
You may discover that you are stronger
than you thought you were
more courageous than you believed yourself
to be
Make a difference the world is counting on you
the first step in making a chance is often taking
action locally
Now is the time to make a positive change
if you have not started already
You may inspire others to take action
but don't wait for others
Make your first step today
even a marathon starts with a first step .......
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 12:57 PM UTC
Around, the fiery source of life spins,
Once more, eradicating all the sins,
From the night which has come- then,
Gone; like a mothers warm hand, when
Plunged into water seemly to baptize
Away the sleep from her child’s eyes.
I turn as with the sun, toward the fable,
Mount Helicon, where many a label,
A measured beat, and a lovely tone,
Where many a doting poet came alone,
To catch sight of one of those sisters,
Bathing, singing and telling in whispers,
Of beauteous stories of ancient past,
Or offering inspiration to those who asked.
But those nine of the Lord of Thunder
I no longer seek blindly in wonder.
For my muse comes within my mind;
She with grace and, beauty hard to find,
Prances playfully in that sacred stream
Solely by herself, and radiates a gleam
Of tremendous visions, of happy scenes,
Of all the joys possessed within human beings,
And further, gifts wondrous coloured hue
To anything I wish to with leisure view.
Whether it be the trees swaying by the hedge,
If it be the roses growing around the ledge,
On some family home that know not I gaze;
Or even if those same winds which blaze
Upon the savage shores, wreak destruction,
Cause turmoil and tumult and deadly confusion;
I am able to speak in such tender lays,
For she presents them with her calming rays
Of ivy strokes, and of gentle meadows kiss,
For I eternally thank my delicate muse for this.
Dec 27, 2012
Dec 27, 2012 at 10:16 AM UTC
A certain goose melted down all the bling,
The silly thing can't walk with all that gold.
Everyone really wonders "Who killed **** Robin"?
Humpty Dumpty fell on him, if the truth be told.
A certain persons' name is really spelt SINDERELLA,
The poor Prince was shocked to find them a fella.
A man was arrested running around the town one night,
Seemly he forgot his night gown, they locked him out of sight.
Aug 2, 2010
Aug 2, 2010 at 5:04 PM UTC
I Hear All The Outlawed World
I
I hear all the outlawed world in harmony,
The marshling stalks the green and gaunt
Destroyers who heed not sparkling deserts
Charged to the gill, nor candles pitching down
Like doom. I note the scale of fossils
In cloud covered peaks, record
The seemly count of bodies by square root
And irrational number, I am witness
Bound to bounty to all who blaze in gray
And shallow grooves seeding their ends
In strikes on the ripe and smoldering fields.
II
I see all the outlawed world in harmony,
Barking wood bracing by the bud,
Where runs of blue, bury in vain
Down slash of mountain forest, cascading
Into august, rising after the fall,
As do kind-killers blasting from shells
To die as snails creeping under flower,
Who saw the past wasting away
In filed futures, slipping by blades in neck
Of wood, sightless as gallows of trees
Try ****** each time they make their leaves.
III
I know all the outlawed world in harmony,
By seamless song of stuttering gulls,
As in conches, waves of providence,
Cell from the center, beating musseled shoals,
Where wailing ghosts and wing-tips point
Printed nails to the silent capes,
And bumble hairs comb round the broken yokes
Stirring streams of babble baited
By flowering psalms, engaging arms to prey
On tales told by the rood and drown
In eyes turning like sands on the sea.
May 26, 2012
May 26, 2012 at 5:38 PM UTC
Shadows paint slowly across these walls
Like cold fingers that reach out to touch
Creeping like some spectre come calling
As the light seems, slowly to fade away
Seemly to abandon itself, to the dark
The mind starts to play strange tricks
Was that a sound from somewhere behind?
Could that have been the faintest of whispers?
The shadows are gone, darkness comes calling
The heat of a dead day gives in to the cold night
Somewhere outside, an owl hoots, shivers begin
The stairs creak, as in protest of hours gone
The rain starts, and taps rapidly at the window
Then the wind screams with a mournful howl
The blankets never seem to keep out that icy embrace
Sleep fails to visit, and night still has that fear
Too afraid to attempt to switch on the light
Too scared to stop that groaning door that sways
Imagination is gripped with nightmarish visions
Surely that was not laughter under the bed
But weary eyes take their toll, hours have passed
Nothing has happened, and all seems to be safe
Until the thunder comes crashing down, hard
And the lightening flashes like hellish fire
Under the covers, to block out the terror
Peaking out, with the trembling of hands
Something is there, standing in the corner
Within the darkest part of the room
Watching, as if a predator studying prey
This is no fogged impression of a dark dream
But just as quickly as the fiendish entity appeared
Now it is gone, no remainder it ever had been
That feeling is here, knowing it had been real
Sleep finally takes you into a sleepless slumber
Morning light has come, but the shadows will return
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 1:48 PM UTC
The comments of the ocean
Blend nicely with the brush
Of tipper topper dinky dinghies
That paddle all a hush
Ships sailing on the summer current
Keels are black and leery
With barnacles and treasures trawled at sea
They nose ahead worn and weary
I sigh a little on the plinth of my palm
Propped nicely 'gainst the ivory table
And clink ****** cups, you know
Those little things that make you remember
Shame? Not me. When I watch the birds
They hover without shame
Boasting of the clouds they've visited
And castles up high they are welcome to
Take, take, take the spring breeze that simmers in
I couldn't feel the grace of disgust
I couldn't, I'm too happy
With salt ground tea and seemly company.
Nov 1, 2016
Nov 1, 2016 at 4:58 AM UTC
Did, a heart of sincerity...?
Made pure, made true...
With the soon, a vestigial anarchy
Came to these, the rue of what we fate, to irony due...
Life and a laugh
The instilled today, the tone of a voice
Given the wishes of the frank, and endearing more we hath...
The compliment of sorry eyes and sudden why's, a unity's choice?
Cope, tomorrow in league with such, a service
To fragile ideals, and the carnal low...
Seemingly mine, the inclined shrewdness of austere sigh's
Is a head at pride, a lover's lie to compel a friend to owe...?
Me, a hardier since, seclusion in a waiting worth...
Can a heightened sense of curiosity, begin here?
With the claimed sake, and kindness of silenced gain, by earn
And turn of chaste into a needy repast, is my ought's notion clear?
Waiting on the words to divine a character's politics?
Sate and uniformity in mind, for another go round
With such a treatise to sympathize with truth, that a gesture meant
Is a gesture in the fate, we knew as a careless whisper, to allow...?
A hat of composure make the day for neglect, isn't a worlds eyes drawn
Meant and imagination, to a seemly rise and flow; was distance to form the words?
Which brings us to the shade, of conscience's seldom, as if a waiting song
That has a notion to become, hungrier than me, that sees the problem of seasons early...
Aug 22, 2023
Aug 22, 2023 at 3:27 PM UTC
Fights
They throw words like little hand grenades
because in our house, we cannot use fists
(I feel that those would hurt less)
and he,
small boy full of rage and sound and not much else
with fists balled to tight
each wanting to strike out, to break his sister's stupid face
Searching through the catacombs of his mind he thought only of falling through a war chest
searching for some sharpened bone or anything to use
he was a skilled warrior of the shadows
with one jab he could ****** thorns through her guarded heart
the precision of a sibling ****** on his side
he had wounded her before
he almost always won
but his wretched
sister
refused to lose this time
refused to be out manipulated
She too had been training
sharpening a silver tongue
that usually served as a shield to her brother's barbs and wicked advances
but today it was a dagger
and assassin for the old king
"You never loved me," he lunged with a flourish
She parried with a cuss word and a sigh
he danced aside, and jabbed at her flank
"I'm going to jump off the cliff" he declared
she scowled
this move usually did her in, but with one glare, she kicked the sword from his hand, and rounded upon him
no fencing foil was on her, no seemly battle ax
but a dagger
and she drew in close
the killing blow
"You are only my half brother" she whispered
and he
was vanquished
The battle done, the two sunk to their knees
and sobbed
Fights
They throw words like little hand grenades
because in our house, we cannot use fists
(I feel that those would hurt less)
May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 10:45 AM UTC
Dear Mother did you know that you beget,
A flower in my Heart that doth my pain abet,
Watering it for life with loving rain,
Soothing it with lullaby refrains,
Tending to its stems and to its soils,
In which it is with Loves light deep embroiled,
A seemly sight are you with watering can,
More qualified and skilled than any man,
To nourish the ****** diamond of my Heart,
For thine affections the gift of gorgeous grace impart,
Such a daughter never wants for more,
But may in ignorance for more implore,
Yet grateful am I for transcendental blossom,
Kindled in my mind for all your wisdom,
Your perfect care and sweetest charity,
That stokes the gift of love and amity,
When the sky collapse, with thunder bolts,
That strike upon my heart and give it welts,
Dear mother from her bedside duly raise,
To tend to me, and so I offer praise,
In worthy, sanguine, devoted Psalms,
For you mother a million alms,
And a hundred million drams,
Knows Love cannot be count in grams,
Dutiful and diligent on her way,
Dear Mother you assuage my dismay,
Be forever aura sent to heal,
Dear Mother, hear my Love, earnest appeal.
Aug 26, 2017
Aug 26, 2017 at 9:38 PM UTC
O'er shingle tossed on raggèd shore,
In awe I gaped that vast array
Of gleaming waves, a teeming store
Of natures bounty in the bay,
Reflecting with each crest and trough
Mosaic fragments of the sky
That echoed on the high-flung bluff
'Neath where stood I.
If God e'er laid a dint or breach
For beauty's sake, this land divine
Is refuge when the storm winds preach,
When rains flow like communion wine;
Each pebble strewn, yet seemly placed
In knitted weave, as tho' on high
A seamstress sewed her pattern, traced
To pleaseth I.
*Oh any heart but mine rejoice
To taste this salted spray;
The longing of mine own device
Lays far beyond the bay.*
To stand beneath the mizzen-mast,
Upon an isle of polished teak,
Surrendered to the winded flax
Wild-dancing round with every creak;
From port to starboard, fore and aft,
No land, nor ship, nor blot on high,
Wouldst dare encroach the mindful craft
That carries I.
What yearning heart has heard her call,
That siren? Oh the sailor's sea,
In beauty does she rise and fall,
Enchanting is her melody;
Too deep her eyes of coral blue
Wherein she takes, as is her wont,
Unwary souls to charters new,
The Lordships and the débutante.
*And unto her, when wearied age
Makes breathless every sigh
And bones become a prison cage,
Will answer I.*
Jan 17, 2017
Jan 17, 2017 at 11:33 PM UTC
1
I hear all the outlawed world in harmony,
The marshling stalks the green and gaunt
Destroyers who heed not sparkling deserts
Charged to the gill, nor candles pitching down
Like doom. I note the scale of fossils
In cloud covered peaks, record
The seemly count of bodies by square root
And irrational number, I am witness
Bound to bounty to all who blaze in gray
And shallow grooves seeding their ends
In strikes on the ripe and smoldering fields.
II
I see all the outlawed world in harmony,
Barking wood bracing by the bud,
Where runs of blue, bury in vain
Down slash of mountain forest, cascading
Into august, rising after the fall,
As do kind-killers blasting from shells
To die as snails creeping under flower,
Who saw the past wasting away
In filed futures, slipping by blades in neck
Of wood, sightless as gallows of trees
Try ****** each time they make their leaves.
III
I know all the outlawed world in harmony,
By seamless song of stuttering gulls,
As in conches, waves of providence,
Cell from the center, beating musseled shoals,
Where wailing ghosts and wing-tips point
Printed nails to the silent capes,
And bumble hairs comb round the broken yokes
Stirring streams of babble baited
By flowering psalms, engaging arms to prey
On tales told by the rood and drown
In eyes turning like sands on the sea.
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 3:28 PM UTC
I tried for the rope of ignorance
to jettison seemly hope
but the four winds conspired
to drain any thought,
whose intention complexes
the placebos already prescribed.
My ex howlers on the phone
she's asking me to give it a rest.
Already I sense she's swallowed,
the part that cannot make amends.
The siphon of good sense
wears thin like a DJ's copy,
should I kneel down
whilst finding lost sense?
Aug 31, 2013
Aug 31, 2013 at 4:23 PM UTC
Even though I should have for thee
Feelings good, yet can I not possess
You more seeing thou hast been, Mistress,
Married to another bloke for eternity.
To be hitched hence with you again
Is to me forever a desire moot.
Be delighted with thy hubby's fruit
As I seek my own seemly lady to gain.
Oct 10, 2011
Oct 10, 2011 at 2:21 PM UTC