"shew" poems
My dearest Frank, I wish you joy
Of Mary's safety with a Boy,
Whose birth has given little pain
Compared with that of Mary Jane —
May he a growing Blessing prove,
And well deserve his Parents' Love! —
Endow'd with Art's and Nature's Good,
Thy Name possessing with thy Blood,
In him, in all his ways, may we
Another Francis WIlliam see! —
Thy infant days may he inherit,
They warmth, nay insolence of spirit; —
We would not with one foult dispense
To weaken the resemblance.
May he revive thy Nursery sin,
Peeping as daringly within,
His curley Locks but just descried,
With 'Bet, my be not come to bide.' —
Fearless of danger, braving pain,
And threaten'd very oft in vain,
Still may one Terror daunt his Soul,
One needful engine of Controul
Be found in this sublime array,
A neigbouring Donkey's aweful Bray.
So may his equal faults as Child,
Produce Maturity as mild!
His saucy words and fiery ways
In early Childhood's pettish days,
In Manhood, shew his Father's mind
Like him, considerate and Kind;
All Gentleness to those around,
And anger only not to wound.
Then like his Father too, he must,
To his own former struggles just,
Feel his Deserts with honest Glow,
And all his self-improvement know.
A native fault may thus give birth
To the best blessing, conscious Worth.
As for ourselves we're very well;
As unaffected prose will tell.
Cassandra's pen will paint our state,
The many comforts that await
Our Chawton home, how much we find
Already in it, to our mind;
And how convinced, that when complete
It will all other Houses beat
The ever have been made or mended,
With rooms concise, or rooms distended.
You'll find us very snug next year,
Perhaps with Charles and ***** near,
For now it often does delight us
To fancy them just over-right us.
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Just as dark rolls back and the sun rises nigh
And dawns light can be seen in the eastern sky.
From his forest home comes carefully and shy
The deer with his headdress held proudly so high.
His keen, bright eyes look sharply and true
For danger learks but that's nothing new
For the experience he has his rack does shew
Ten terminating ends that his antlers do
He steps forth, onto the grassy clearing
Sensing no threat that he need bewaring
He continues farther out, more bold and daring
Making sure the grass is safe before sharing
And just as he is about to feed
On tender grass his most favorite indeed
It hits his side and he starts to bleed
For it has pierced him causing dire need
Unable run, to the ground he does fall
He coughs on his blood, losing it all
And in the distance, hears a cheerful call
"Hooray! I got him!" From a tree so tall
What remained unknown to the wise, old buck
The threat in a tree, such bad luck
Waiting to tie a deer to the top of his truck
A hunter, by who's bullet, the deer was struck.
Please don't think that I am against hunting
It's just the facts of life that I am confronting
Because you'll see me here quietly munching
On a deer steak I fried and am now lunching!
Oct 3, 2012
Oct 3, 2012 at 11:08 PM UTC
I share-nowan-do
I share-nowan-do
I share-nowan-do
Fu shew-away u blacks
Icehousey, buddie wiser are..my MAN-he he hein kin..
Dan tell me wat fugshuis -Denmark!
SHRI DENMARK!
VUBAKS go
go Alaska, Africa, be free then...den
My Grandfather stood at Antietam
VUBAKS go
These medals, pins, regalia, -so special.
...not general... like you...
SPE i -CIAL
Der idsey con Tan nint-in shew balon to.
VUBAKS go
Everybody knows, civilization was created by Whiskey!
...whiskey...
Der idsey con Tan nint-in shew balon to.
I share-nowan-do
I share-nowan-do
I share-nowan-do
VEE SHAR NO WAN DO-O....
I voted for Drumpf
*I share-nowan-do
I share-nowan-do
I share-nowan-do*
SHRI TRUMPF -D
yeah...yeah
ISA
de-urdsey
Aug 16, 2017
Aug 16, 2017 at 12:57 AM UTC
Nodding, nodding 'pon thy stem,
Thou bloom o' morn; nodding, nodding
To the bees, asearch o' honey's sweet.
Wilt thou to droop, and wilt the dance o' thee
To vanish with the going o' the day?
Hath the tearing o' the air o' thy sharped thorn
Sent musics up unto the bright,
Or doth thy dance to mean anaught
Save breeze-kiss 'pon thy bloom?
Hath yonder songster harked to thee,
And doth he sing thy love? Or hath he tuned
His song of world's wailing o' the day?
Doth mom shew thee naught save thy garden's wall,
That shutteth thee away, a treasure o' thy day?
Doth yonder hum then spell anaught,
Save whirring o' the wing that hovereth
O'er thy bud to sup the sweet?
Ah, garden's deep, afulled o' fairie's word,
And creeped o’er with winged mites, where but
The raindrop's patter telleth thee His love—
Doth all this vanish then, at closing o' the day?
Anay. For He hath made a one who seeketh here,
And storeth drops, and song, and hum, and sweets,
And of these weaveth garland for the earth.
From off his lute doth drip the day of Him!
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How cool and sweet the air I drank,
Standing beneath the starry sky;
As I stroll’d the starlit bank,
I saw my Fairy Queen float nigh.
She shew’d me petals for my bed,
A long grass for my easy-chair;
Mushrooms for umbrella or shade
Should rain pelt down from Anywhere.
She gave me May dew for my thirst,
Nectar sips to sweeten my lips;
She shew’d me jasmines, bloom’d and burst,
Whilst light-foot’d fairies round us tripp’d.
Not until I heard the church-bell
Strike with delight the morning hour,
Did I hear a thud as I fell
Off the red petals of a flower.
None was in sight when I came round;
A small red flower stood by my side.
Not a stir was heard, not a sound;
My Fairy Queen had gone to hide.
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 4:31 AM UTC
Love in fantastic triumph sat,
Whilst bleeding hearts around him flow'd,
For whom fresh pains he did create,
And strange tyrannic power he shew'd;
From thy bright eyes he took his fire,
Which round about in sport he hurl'd;
But 'twas from mine he took desire
Enough to undo the amorous world.
From me he took his sighs and tears,
From thee his pride and cruelty;
From me his languishments and fears,
And every killing dart from thee;
Thus thou and I the God have arm'd,
And set him up a Deity;
But my poor heart alone is harm'd,
Whilst thine the victor is, and free.
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He that dwelleth in the
secret place of the most High
shall abide under the shadow
of the Almighty.
2 I will say of the Lord, He is
my refuge and my fortress: my
God; in him will I trust.
3 Surely he shall deliver thee
from the snare of the fowler, and
from the noisome pestilence.
4 He shall cover thee with his
feathers, and under his wings
shalt thou trust: his truth *shall be
thy* shield and buckler.
5 Thou shalt not be afraid for
the terror by night; nor for the
arrow that flieth by day;
6 Nor for the pestilence that
walketh in darkness; nor for
the destruction that wasteth at
noonday.
7 A thousand shall fall at thy
side, and ten thousand at thy right
hand; but it shall not come nigh
thee.
8 Only with thine eyes shalt
thou behold and see the reward of
the wicked.
9 Because thou hast made the
Lord, which is my refuge even
the most High, thy habitation;
10 There shall no evil befall
thee, neither shall any plague
come nigh thy dwelling.
11 For he shall give his angels
charge over thee, to keep thee in
all thy ways.
12 They shall bear thee up in
their hands, lest thou dash thy
foot against a stone.
13 Thou shalt tread upon the
lion and adder: the young lion
and the dragon shalt thou
trample under feet.
14 Because he hath set his love
upon me, therefore will I deliver
him; I will set him on high,
because he hath known my name.
15 He shall call upon me, and I
will answer him: I will be with
him in trouble; I will deliver him,
and honour him.
16 With long life will I satisfy
him, and shew him my salvation.
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 4:54 PM UTC
They recall far too well
They keep count
of the exact amount of
milk and sugar
in her Earl Grey tea.
They take note of
how she won’t allow
bar fruit
to swim in her drink.
They catalog the precise shades of
white, pink and red.
They never forget a body
or face.
They were unobservable last night
at dinner
with so much light mirroring
the windows
Completely unnoticed
while we staggered
between the bums and youth
of downtown.
When we danced,
when she laughed,
with her cool fingers
slick on my skull,
when the downstairs neighbors
banged on the ceiling
when she said that I was…,
I was alone with her.
But this morning,
too many hours after cocktails,
with her skin fuzzy bright
all the sun leaking in,
I could feel the metallic glint
of their stares.
Close but not too close.
not close enough to hold on to but
close.
When they took the air,
I could feel black feathers
beating my ribs.
The crows,
they know and always remember.
We eat breakfast at the diner
two blocks up the street
I shew shewed them away
while she was distracted reading the menu
but I saved the crust of my toast
to feed them later.
Oct 30, 2015
Oct 30, 2015 at 8:50 PM UTC
Here lies old Hobson, Death hath broke his girt,
And here alas, hath laid him in the dirt,
Or els the ways being foul, twenty to one,
He’s here stuck in a slough, and overthrown.
’Twas such a shifter, that if truth were known,
Death was half glad when he had got him down;
For he had any time this ten yeers full,
Dodg’d with him, betwixt Cambridge and the Bull.
And surely, Death could never have prevail’d,
Had not his weekly cours of carriage fail’d;
But lately finding him so long at home,
And thinking now his journeys end was come,
And that he had tane up his latest Inne,
In the kind office of a Chamberlin
Shew’d him his room where he must lodge that night,
Pull’d off his Boots, and took away the light:
If any ask for him, it shall be sed,
Hobson has supt, and ’s newly gon to bed.
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Of all who hail thy presence as the morning—
Of all to whom thine absence is the night—
The blotting utterly from out high heaven
The sacred sun—of all who, weeping, bless thee
Hourly for hope—for life—ah, above all,
For the resurrection of deep buried faith
In truth, in virtue, in humanity—
Of all who, on despair’s unhallowed bed
Lying down to die, have suddenly arisen
At thy soft-murmured words, “Let there be light!”
At thy soft-murmured words that were fulfilled
In thy seraphic glancing of thine eyes—
Of all who owe thee most, whose gratitude
Nearest resembles worship,—oh, remember
The truest, the most fervently devoted,
And think that these weak lines are written by him—
By him who, as he pens them, thrills to think
His spirit is communing with an angel’s.
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VII
How soon hath Time the suttle theef of youth,
Stoln on his wing my three and twentith yeer!
My hasting dayes flie on with full career,
But my late spring no bud or blossom shew’th,
Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth,
That I to manhood am arriv’d so near,
And inward ripenes doth much less appear,
That som more timely-happy spirits indu’th.
Yet be it less or more, or soon or slow.
It shall be still in strictest measure eev’n,
To that same lot, however mean, or high,
Toward which Time leads me, and the will of Heav’n;
All is, if I have grace to use it so,
As ever in my great task Masters eye.
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Love in fantastic triumph sat,
Whilst bleeding hearts around him flow'd,
For whom fresh pains he did create,
And strange tyrannic power he shew'd;
From thy bright eyes he took his fire,
Which round about in sport he hurl'd;
But 'twas from mine he took desire
Enough to undo the amorous world.
From me he took his sighs and tears,
From thee his pride and cruelty;
From me his languishments and fears,
And every killing dart from thee;
Thus thou and I the God have arm'd,
And set him up a Deity;
But my poor heart alone is harm'd,
Whilst thine the victor is, and free.
1.7k
Not long ago, the writer of these lines,
In the mad pride of intellectuality,
Maintained “the power of words”—denied that ever
A thought arose within the human brain
Beyond the utterance of the human tongue:
And now, as if in mockery of that boast,
Two words—two foreign soft dissyllables—
Italian tones, made only to be murmured
By angels dreaming in the moonlit “dew
That hangs like chains of pearl on Hermon hill,”—
Have stirred from out the abysses of his heart,
Unthought-like thoughts that are the souls of thought,
Richer, far wilder, far diviner visions
Than even the seraph harper, Israfel,
(Who has “the sweetest voice of all God’s creatures,”)
Could hope to utter. And I! my spells are broken.
The pen falls powerless from my shivering hand.
With thy dear name as text, though hidden by thee,
I cannot write—I cannot speak or think—
Alas, I cannot feel; for ’tis not feeling,
This standing motionless upon the golden
Threshold of the wide-open gate of dreams,
Gazing, entranced, adown the gorgeous vista,
And thrilling as I see, upon the right,
Upon the left, and all the way along,
Amid empurpled vapors, far away
To where the prospect terminates—thee only!
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Blue streaks shew across the sky.
Manic days and semper fi.
Red dawn smashes out the sea.
Honor is all I claim to be.
Though I love and feel like saintly.
I reek, timorous, spineless and dainty.
But I have no respect for you!
Till we are in court, tried and true
It was the world, the world of defeat.
I planted my flag on a daisy and creek.
On a light dominion of my summerhouse place.
There sit, the lovely Welterman case.
Weltermans family gathered in boon.
Farewell to a daughter, a motherly loon.
I killed her. There. I said it okay?
But don't blame me, she was just in my way.
On a cold summer day, and a hot summer night.
Cicadas bizzled but hardly struck a fright.
Daisy lay sleeping, sweet next to me.
Leaving behind her unfinished dreams
But lo and behold, an undertaker.
Ruinous desire, I decided to take her.
My confession means nothing, my killing, an iota.
So love would not infect Alexander of Macedonia.
Down the throat and across the sea.
Of loquacious gelatinous sanctimony.
I'll cut deep without thinking, I'll slash without aversion.
Ophelia and her love is a tainted **********
I bathed in the blood and cried myself silly.
She only deserved death, that ***** old filly.
No more would Welterman reek of my sin.
To lower a king, to a peasantly Tim.
Jan 18, 2017
Jan 18, 2017 at 2:59 AM UTC
Departures and Arrivals.
The dust hasn't yet settled on the torn up trail behind me.
Particles still linger in my hair, my teeth and in the air
around me like they own me.
I wonder, even though it seems like I've dearly departed, if it
will ever settle and I don't necessarily expect it to because
maybe it has to sock it to me
so no sweet amnesia can shew away the memories of what it was
that got me here to this place of growing respect for all the
potholes and all the unpaved roads.
Driving in the dark tree monsters slide bye one after the other,
their silent dialogue giving me the shivers like so many other
things in the world do,
cold sweat running down my face as the car rattles and the
music stops and there's only the sound of dripping rain. Tears,
like rain aren't separate from sweat.
They're constanly recycling and bleeding into one another like
night bleeds into day. I get that and I even love that because where
does hardship go if not to tears?
Stuffing grief into the cracks of the bodymind is a recipe for sick. I get
that too. People may tell ya to take a pill, have a swig, do anything to
bully your discomfort away but you sense
and you know that you sense and only you can sense what it is you
have to do. So you keep on going because what has drinking the
sweet numbing Koolaide ever done for ya anyway?
And it's a relief to come out of the comatose to watch the rose-gold
sunrise coming up over your landscape as your gears shift on the
broken hill of this awakening;
laser sharp beams of light gutting the nonsense out of ya, your feet
touching down onto solid ground and you feeling shaky but all
aglow in your skin
and this departure is telling every cell in your body that you have arrived.
There will be other departures and other arrivals, other days and other
nights but for now,
in this moment you have arrived and you don't give a **** about and
you're almost grateful for the dust and the particles and the freaky
and the the not so freaky fallout hovering over ya like a halo
1/2020
Aug 25, 2022
Aug 25, 2022 at 10:00 AM UTC
Aug. 10. 1653.
Answer me when I call
God of my righteousness;
In straights and in distress
Thou didst me disinthrall
And set at large; now spare,
Now pity me, and hear my earnest prai’r.
Great ones how long will ye
My glory have in scorn
How long be thus forlorn
Still to love vanity,
To love, to seek, to prize
Things false and vain and nothing else but lies?
Yet know the Lord hath chose
Chose to himself a part
The good and meek of heart
(For whom to chuse he knows)
Jehovah from on high
Will hear my voyce what time to him I crie.
Be aw’d, and do not sin,
Speak to your hearts alone,
Upon your beds, each one,
And be at peace within.
Offer the offerings just
Of righteousness and in Jehovah trust.
Many there be that say
Who yet will shew us good?
Talking like this worlds brood;
But Lord, thus let me pray,
On us lift up the light
Lift up the favour of thy count’nance bright.
Into my heart more joy
And gladness thou hast put
Then when a year of glut
Their stores doth over-cloy
And from their plenteous grounds
With vast increase their corn and wine abounds.
In peace at once will I
Both lay me down and sleep
For thou alone dost keep
Me safe where ere I lie
As in a rocky Cell
Thou Lord alone in safety mak’st me dwell.
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none of the editors reside in my head
nor does a matrician's need to coddle
sidestep
be nice
when I see ****** I say that is
******
have no points in the bank for guile
for correctness
for matters are fact
attitudes solid concrete I can see
like windows on the Trump tower
just hiding ****
brevity usually my habit
and preference
but at times I get windy
flatulent
****** me off when, shew!! it happens alone
I love to share
Mar 17, 2017
Mar 17, 2017 at 2:30 AM UTC
Thy gracious ear, O Lord, encline,
O hear me I thee pray,
For I am poor, and almost pine
With need, and sad decay.
Preserve my soul, for *I have trod Heb. I am good, loving,
Thy waies, and love the just, a doer of good and
Save thou thy servant O my God holy things
Who still in thee doth trust.
Pity me Lord for daily thee
I call; O make rejoyce
Thy Servants Soul; for Lord to thee
I lift my soul and voice,
For thou art good, thou Lord art prone
To pardon, thou to all
Art full of mercy, thou alone
To them that on thee call.
Unto my supplication Lord
Give ear, and to the crie
Of my incessant praiers afford
Thy hearing graciously.
I in the day of my distress
Will call on thee for aid;
For thou wilt grant me free access
And answer, what I pray’d.
Like thee among the gods is none
O Lord, nor any works
Of all that other Gods have done
Like to thy glorious works.
The Nations all whom thou hast made
Shall come, and all shall frame
To bow them low before thee Lord,
And glorifie thy name.
For great thou art, and wonders great
By thy strong hand are done,
Thou in thy everlasting Seat
Remainest God alone.
Teach me O Lord thy way most right,
I in thy truth will hide,
To fear thy name my heart unite
So shall it never slide.
Thee will I praise O Lord my God
Thee honour, and adore
With my whole heart, and blaze abroad
Thy name for ever more.
For great thy mercy is toward me,
And thou hast free’d my Soul
Eev’n from the lowest Hell set free
From deepest darkness foul.
O God the proud against me rise
And violent men are met
To seek my life, and in their eyes
No fear of thee have set.
But thou Lord art the God most mild
Readiest thy grace to shew,
Slow to be angry, and art stil’d
Most mercifull, most true.
O turn to me thy face at length,
And me have mercy on,
Unto thy servant give thy strength,
And save thy hand-maids Son.
Some sign of good to me afford,
And let my foes then see
And be asham’d, because thou Lord
Do’st help and comfort me.
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MATRIX
ALIVE
TELL
MADNESS
APEX
PARAMOUNT
VORTEX
DRAINHOLE
Dancefloor
Ecstasy
LSD
HeadTrip
Rockface
TwinSoul
AngelDress
Accepello
Soprano
HairSalon
Soap
Spring
Ocean
Tornado
Tsunami
HIGH HEALS
HOT ***
WET NESS
CAR PARK
SUMMIT
BABYLON
PB&J;
CONFECTION
AERESOL
AREOLA
NEWBORN
PRINCIPLES
Who Knows
Good Day
||°V°||
God BLESS God
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 11:58 AM UTC
Thy Land to favour graciously
Thou hast not Lord been slack,
Thou hast from hard Captivity
Returned Jacob back.
Th’ iniquity thou didst forgive
That wrought thy people woe,
And all their Sin, that did thee grieve
Hast hid where none shall know.
Thine anger all thou hadst remov’d,
And calmly didst return
From thy *fierce wrath which we had prov’d *Heb. The burning
Far worse then fire to burn. heat of thy
God of our saving health and peace, wrath.
Turn us, and us restore,
Thine indignation cause to cease
Toward us, and chide no more.
Wilt thou be angry without end,
For ever angry thus
Wilt thou thy frowning ire extend
From age to age on us?
Wilt thou not *turn, and hear our voice * Heb. Turn to
And us again *revive, quicken us.
That so thy people may rejoyce
By thee preserv’d alive.
Cause us to see thy goodness Lord,
To us thy mercy shew
Thy saving health to us afford
And lift in us renew.
And now what God the Lord will speak
I will go strait and hear,
For to his people he speaks peace
And to his Saints full dear,
To his dear Saints he will speak peace,
But let them never more
Return to folly, but surcease
To trespass as before.
Surely to such as do him fear
Salvation is at hand
And glory shall ere long appear
To dwell within our Land.
Mercy and Truth that long were miss’d
Now joyfully are met
Sweet Peace and Righteousness have kiss’d
And hand in hand are set.
Truth from the earth like to a flowr
Shall bud and blossom then,
And Justice from her heavenly bowr
Look down on mortal men.
The Lord will also then bestow
Whatever thing is good
Our Land shall forth in plenty throw
Her fruits to be our food.
Before him Righteousness shall go
His Royal Harbinger,
Then *will he come, and not be slow *Heb. He will set his steps to the way.
His footsteps cannot err.
1.2k
Sin enslaved me many years,
And led me bound and blind;
Till at length a thousand fears
Came swarming o'er my mind.
"Where," said I, in deep distress,
"Will these sinful pleasures end?
How shall I secure my peace
And make the Lord my friend?"
Friends and ministers said much
The gospel to enforce;
But my blindness still was such,
I chose a legal course:
Much I fasted, watch'd, and strove,
Scarce would shew my face abroad,
Fear'd almost to speak or move,
A stranger still to God.
Thus afraid to trust His grace,
Long time did I rebel;
Till despairing of my case,
Down at His feet I fell:
Then my stubborn heart He broke,
And subdued me to His sway;
By a simple word He spoke,
"Thy sins are done away."
1k
The mighty God, even the
Lord, hath spoken, and
called the earth from the rising
of the sun unto the going down
thereof.
2 Out of Zion, the perfection of
beauty, God hath shined.
3 Our God shall come, and
shall not keep silence: a fire shall
devour before him, and it shall be
very tempestuous round about
him.
4 He shall call to the heavens
from above, and to the earth, that
he may judge his people.
5 Gather my saints together
unto me; those that have made a
covenant with me by sacrifice.
6 And the heavens shall
declare his righteousness: for God
is judge himself. Selah.
7 Hear, O my people, and I will
speak, O Israel, and I will testify
against thee: I am God, even thy
God.
8 I will not reprove thee for
thy sacrifices or thy burnt
offerings, to have been continually
before me.
9 I will take no bullock out of
thy house, nor he goats out of thy
folds.
10 For every beast of the forest
is mine, and the cattle upon a
thousand hills.
11 I know all the fowls of the
mountains: and the wild beasts of
the field are mine.
12 If I were hungry, I would not
tell thee: for the world is mine,
and the fulness thereof.
13 Will I eat the flesh of bulls, or
drink the blood of goats?
14 Offer unto God thanksgiving;
and pay thy vows unto the
most High:
15 And call upon me in the day
of trouble: I will deliver thee, and
thou shalt glorify me.
16 But unto the wicked God saith,
What hast thou to do to declare my
statutes, or that thou shouldest
take my covenant in thy mouth?
17 Seeing thou hatest
instruction, and castest my words behind
thee.
18 When thou sawest a thief,
then thou consentedst with him,
and hast been partaker with
adulterers.
19 Thou givest thy mouth to evil,
and thy tongue frameth deceit.
20 Thou sittest and speakest
against thy brother; thou
slanderest thine own mother's son.
21 These things hast thou done,
and I kept silence; thou thoughtest
that I was altogether *such an
one* as thyself: but I will reprove
thee, and set them in order
before thine eyes.
22 Now consider this, ye that
forget God, lest I tear you in
pieces, and there be none to
deliver.
23 Whoso offereth praise
glorifieth me: and to him that ordereth
his conversation aright will I
shew the salvation of God.
Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 9:23 PM UTC
i.
Lá breithe shona duit, from whence I came.
Birthed from thy womb, a bairn of thy soothe,
Máthair, Máthair; balm to mine wound's.
ii.
How didst thou deal with me, so needy
And in want; yet mother thou didst
Sheweth me that love is worth more
Than material stuff.
iii.
As I grew, it's thee I knew, that shewed me
Compassion existed; in a world still cruel.
Thou art mine guidestone, in heaven's
Room's, thou art the ray that glow's
Like the midnight moon.
iv.
As when the fear doth shew and come,
To thee, Máthair; I'll alway's run. It's
Thy smile that overpowers the sun,
For thou art the one; who bring's
Sunny day's.
v.
Spiritually were connected, in every way,
Emotionally we've resurrected, aloft death's
Own shade; Lá breithe shona duit, for
Another day, mayest ourn Angel's
Guide thy way, and to God we'll
Praise.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Juna nagley birthday dedication
Jul 31, 2016
Jul 31, 2016 at 10:27 AM UTC
An inkling of something from nothing has broken free and come unhinged.
I doubt we have stood in line so long just to turn around and come back later.
Who new blue Shew?!?
What's a masked Marauder look like peeking outside her shadows, twinkling like timed Christmas tree lights on an Eve with no presence?
I don't care for 20/20 in a life with no Zen on a scale without balance ranking 5 out of 10.
"Go back to the front!!", scream ten Stone men.
Who new blue Shew?!?
"...just what, why and when??"
black Crow down, caws the cackle of Raven.
I'm sick of being broken
...let me come unhinged.
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 11:52 AM UTC
O Lethe, take me to your abode.
My quill awaits your warm fingertips
O Lethe, flow me into your hands
Take me to your black, to find me, rest.
Ah… At last, my mind is in peace, not pieces
As my quivering lips press against your hand
As my throbbing head rests on your plush lap
As my heavy eyes shut from the aeons of weary
Your home of brimstones is my Paradise
But where is your face, Lethe?
My fingers ran through your streams of black
But where is your face, Lethe?
My lips pressed against your gloves of black
But where is your face, Lethe?
My eyes glared at your fiery pupils of black
But where is your face, Lethe?
Ah… where is your face, Lethe?
Even the waters can’t show me your face, Lethe.
Ah... where is your face, Lethe?
My bones felt your whispering… tender… voice.
But Heavens, where is my Lethe’s face?
Don’t veil your countenance, Lethe
I know, it is scarred and marred
I know. it is not… my Daphne’s
I know, it is not of million colours
But ‘Tis the brightest of all – Black...
Lethe, shew me your face, I implore you
Shew me your face gilded with strands of regalia
Before the agents of dawn sever me off you
Before the angels of the sun char off my joy
Heavens, let me be, in these waters of – Black...
Sep 17, 2020
Sep 17, 2020 at 7:49 AM UTC