"sorest" poems
I am but a single
dry dead leaf
laying beneath an endless willow tree
around the waters bend
close to the toadstool pow-wows
only inhabited by the faeries.
& the moon- she still shine,
captured but by a sphere, yet so free
her light may breathe
a chilling, frigid touch
between the memories you
have buried so deep.
So please do not fret your wondrous mind
over all of your insecurities,
though she may shine with a chilling reminder
I promise that in your eyes
a beautiful soul
is all she sees.
As my mind races I feel
I am unable to describe
the exact emotion you
have gently
injected into my mind.
My eyelids grow heavy
my minds afloat to space
all that is left in my world as I know it,
is the perfection on your face
You see darling,
I am a hija de la luna;
the stars will align with
Castor & Pollux
Cancer, Aphrodite, & Fortuna.
They greet me as old friends,
join me in my nights of fantasy.
tell me darling what do these strange constellations mean?
Oh how I pity thy cataracts
eyes white & glassy
but I promise the warmth will melt your frozen gaze
& in time, you will see.
The horizon shifts as I do to you,
how long do you wish to be at sea?
Alas, you know my poison
doubt seeps into my skin
like an 80 patch.
Through thick & thin,
even on the sorest of feet
I will skip merrily along your path.
Round my head I gaze,
The sky has been stained
with fuchsia & clementine
among the blues.
tell me again, how may I find your presence within the hues?
Wrap yourself within my blanket
of ease & security.
Trust me with your life or not,
for I want to be
there, when you most
need me
You cannot help
you are a broken bird
I cannot deny my psyche as it worries
*does a dove not care about her nest back home
when she soars above
the sea?*
Next to the beating arrhythmia
you try hold dear ‘twixt your ribs
my favourite poem of yours has changed
where I will weave a small nest
dream of your lips
& the sound of rain.
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 8:16 PM UTC
67
Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne’er succeed.
To comprehend a nectar
Requires sorest need.
Not one of all the purple Host
Who took the Flag today
Can tell the definition
So clear of Victory
As he defeated—dying—
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Burst agonized and clear!
2.6k
Doubt no more that Oberon—
Never doubt that Pan
Lived, and played a reed, and ran
After nymphs in a dark forest,
In the merry, credulous days,—
Lived, and led a fairy band
Over the indulgent land!
Ah, for in this dourest, sorest
Age man’s eye has looked upon,
Death to fauns and death to fays,
Still the dog-wood dares to raise—
Healthy tree, with trunk and root—
Ivory bowls that bear no fruit,
And the starlings and the jays—
Birds that cannot even sing—
Dare to come again in spring!
2k
Chained in the market-place he stood,
A man of giant frame,
Amid the gathering multitude
That shrunk to hear his name--
All stern of look and strong of limb,
His dark eye on the ground:--
And silently they gazed on him,
As on a lion bound.
Vainly, but well, that chief had fought,
He was a captive now,
Yet pride, that fortune humbles not,
Was written on his brow.
The scars his dark broad ***** wore,
Showed warrior true and brave;
A prince among his tribe before,
He could not be a slave.
Then to his conqueror he spake--
"My brother is a king;
Undo this necklace from my neck,
And take this bracelet ring,
And send me where my brother reigns,
And I will fill thy hands
With store of ivory from the plains,
And gold-dust from the sands."
"Not for thy ivory nor thy gold
Will I unbind thy chain;
That ****** hand shall never hold
The battle-spear again.
A price thy nation never gave
Shall yet be paid for thee;
For thou shalt be the Christian's slave,
In lands beyond the sea."
Then wept the warrior chief, and bade
To shred his locks away;
And one by one, each heavy braid
Before the victor lay.
Thick were the platted locks, and long,
And closely hidden there
Shone many a wedge of gold among
The dark and crisped hair.
"Look, feast thy greedy eye with gold
Long kept for sorest need:
Take it--thou askest sums untold,
And say that I am freed.
Take it--my wife, the long, long day,
Weeps by the cocoa-tree,
And my young children leave their play,
And ask in vain for me."
"I take thy gold--but I have made
Thy fetters fast and strong,
And ween that by the cocoa shade
Thy wife will wait thee long."
Strong was the agony that shook
The captive's frame to hear,
And the proud meaning of his look
Was changed to mortal fear.
His heart was broken--crazed his brain:
At once his eye grew wild;
He struggled fiercely with his chain,
Whispered, and wept, and smiled;
Yet wore not long those fatal bands,
And once, at shut of day,
They drew him forth upon the sands,
The foul hyena's prey.
1.7k
In the darkness the quiet is complete
for only in the snow does the world find sleep.
With thoughts as heavy as the air is cold,
trapped in every single secret never told.
Yet, love is love is love is love
worth so much more for all I am guilty of.
My minds lost in this perfect snow white deep
and none of these thoughts will ever bring me sleep.
Its with the sorest of muscles and tiredest of eyes
that I lift to watch another infinite sunrise.
I don't know who I am, or where to go, or how to be.
But this is all becomes hushed whispers when you're next to me.
If there ever was a definition of you and me,
it would look something like a mix of confusion and clarity.
And when you leave I'm left with all of you I miss,
which can only be consoled with your perfect kiss.
You're a snow angel, quiet and pure.
Full of love and uncertainly sure.
I hate to melt you for just a taste of serenity
but I'm so helplessly lost in this complete concinnity.
Feb 18, 2012
Feb 18, 2012 at 5:16 AM UTC
I just don’t know today;
Seventeen years I ought to pray.
Those who saw her every morning
Now empty chair and mourning
I did not know her well
But felt from the ones around
She was a sorest loss
Which shook the entire town
I watched them empty her locker
At the start of a day so sad
Ripping the pictures down from the walls
Like her soul could fit in a trash bag
Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 4:59 AM UTC
In the cold fields of tundra
And coniferous forest
Pine-trees wailing for ages
When the sea is the sorest
But this sea is not tropic
This is not tender land
It is harsh and so perfect
My lost heaven, last stand
It's agressive for people
Which are living light-hearted
It's abode for a sorrow
Where the wind had been started
It will blow off the spring
Then gone summer and autumn
After all this allusion
Winter won't be forgotten
This is not place like others
It is calm and so silent
Near crackling of a fire
I will find my own island
Semi-darkness near bedroom
Modest house is sooty
There's no place around
You can look at such beauty
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 8:43 AM UTC
Walking in a creepy dark forest
feeling but nothing but weirdly sorest
Visions and reality totally hazy and confused
seeing teddy's drink tea without being excused
Seeing animals sit around and eat as humans at the table
Makes my mind feel more confused and unstable
Wondering around and come across owls getting married
judging what I'll see next I should be extremely worried!
I see a bright light reflecting white off a jacket
trying it on hoping this sure doesn't throw a gasket
Running away from the foolish foul bird creatures chasing me
My boots come off and out of nowhere I'm growing into a tree
My hands turn into branches and my feet into a tree trunk
surely this must be a dream or else I'm seriously drunk
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 4:22 PM UTC
Endora:
I can’t breath, my lungs are burning
Everything around me is twirling.
Everything inside me squeezes eminently, grabbing away my desire to live on.
I am filled with pain, till my last bone.
My eyes are full of blood rivers.
He is dying in the roaring silence.
Lucas:
As I opened my eyes,
I saw dazzling stars dancing in the sunset
It was as quiet as a dead silence, creating a peaceful setting.
I breathed in, a fresh freezing air
I can’t stop gazing at this glare.
Am I dead or is it just a dream?
Endora:
Is it a dream or he is really dead?
This shouldn’t be the end!
Each moment, memory with him, was a blest
It flashed to the right and to the left
I wish I could say ‘I love you till death’
Just as a lest
Lucas:
As I walked in a gloomy forest
I felt that Endora felt the sorest
I can't stop thinking about her. Besides.
Out of the blue,I noticed a glorious figure.
Her dress was fluttering in the wind.
However, I didn't have a chance to see the owner of this gracious dress.
“Come back, come back” said the soft voice
I didn't have a chance to see the owner of this soft voice.
Endora:
As I came back, he opened his eyes...
Mar 16, 2021
Mar 16, 2021 at 3:02 AM UTC
Is a precious commodity,
Hard won and easily lost,
And once lost doubly, triply,
A thousandfold harder to regain,
A fact of which I am reminded
Over and ever over
By those who appoint themselves
To my judging panel,
No matter any right for redemption,
Repentence or change,
Only the justifief raging of the injured,
The gleeful snarling of the lookers on,
It is enough that a man might
Reasonably give pause and thoughts of ending,
Indeed I have had bleakness
Well up enough to drown me,
Pulled and pushed toward the dark,
Towards despair,
Towards oblivion,
Towards an ending offering restitution to the injured
And entertainment to the chattering hangers on
But my spirit is strong enough,
Or maybe I am just
Too ****** obstinate,
I have survived long enough
To see that other force,
The one that can rescue even a wretch like me,
Even the sorest damaged victim
From this dismal purgatory,
From perennial, repeated argument,
Recrimination and pointless sniping,
A veritable undeniable force,
So gentle yet indomitable,
A force to sunder grief and reconnect aching hearts,
Put aside the rage and hurt
Dismiss the hangers on,
(Prurient perverts all,)
And build anew
A better stronger life,
An edifice anchored
Upon rock
And that force
That thing between us,
That revelation that mystery
All along was love,
Love in all its glory,
Corinthian love,
Patient and kind,
Unenvying and humble
Honourable not self seeking,
Above all
Slow to anger and swift to forget
A slight or insult,
That love I found still feebly burning
In my heart for thee,
And peering through the battle smoke,
Sifting through the wreckage
Of us,
I found that same dim flame in you,
Flame I now gently blow upon,
Nurture and feed,
Watch grow back towards a greatness
Sufficient to burn old wounds,
Incinerate infection and leave behind
Hearts touched by a refiners fire,
Silver-proofed against doubt despair.and trepidation.
OUR hearts
OUR love,
OUR future.
And
I
Am
******
Glad
Sep 9, 2023
Sep 9, 2023 at 5:42 PM UTC
He said what he had said before,
A nose not stranger to bloodiest gore,
Turned a hand to beckon closed door,
Locked and barred bendwise and hammered,
By the eyes of many battles.
They simmered with experience, drew a handbook out,
Laid before them as such options were plentiful,
Should these street hooligans, singing and playing for free,
Prove to be sorest enemy, agents of Toblin's freshly minted son.
Still hot and brash from command's ascent.
Prienne's mind wasn't one to be weighed by age alone,
His talents lead chessmasters to weeping chambers,
He'd dine at dinner wearing a bib of success,
No challengers exist for my skills to test,
A fact he had to acquiesce.
Savoring the sounds of old crones and men alike,
Unaccustomed to losing control of the light,
A candle lit as sole companion, they'd given life to master,
An art he merely dabbled triumphantly.
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 10:44 PM UTC
I plucked a book from my closet
The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson
I open to a random
573
The Test of Love -- is Death
It hurts
to hold this book
to hold this poem
in my hands
because you got me this book
you showed me all the most painful things
brand new, this book, ******* you with wine in my veins
and played me out, and I was young and dumb
I should have played the game, but I flipped out
you were terribly cute, threateningly Norwegian
I HATE to admit this, but I STILL love you like
the deepest laceration, the sorest wound of this animal
though I know it to be only longing
for the semblance of a truly wild life.
It hurts so bad because I'll die and never talk to you again
I always purposefully acted crazy and burned bridges with every ex-lover
Here's what I held from myself:
I know that I am good enough
That I don't have to worry
That I will overwrite your memory
With new love, true and blazing bright
And it will all be okay. More than that,
It will mean more than you could ever mean to me.
May 16, 2017
May 16, 2017 at 1:19 AM UTC
hand which by is felt the stem
is set crimson at thorned *****
red so like the rose suddenly at
lips gleaming supping feverishly
at pains sorest pleasure(the palm
who riven draws even deeper the
pointed inch of agony to bone fine
white as a silk worm skin) like a
lily stupid with *** the comparable
hurt of which a hand that likes to
bleed
Apr 14, 2012
Apr 14, 2012 at 3:24 AM UTC
You were freaky as hell.
I remember that clearly, you
stood out like the sorest thumb,
hit by authenticity's ironic hammer.
So I tasted the **** and
ever-so-slightly veiled disgust
you were toting around like some
majestic plume in your ragged cap.
I don't know if it was just a joke, or
maybe you had some intuitive
glance at how freaky I'd be.
We'll never know now,
Will we?
Point being, I wonder what became
of the girl who let spiders crawl
all over her on her bathroom
floor. You still do that?
You dropped signs,
like maybe I was
some kind of
livestock
you were
planning on
cooking up all
for yourself, and
I probably wouldn't
refuse death by feast.
You were a shadow, then.
I think I can see you now.
But we'll never know now,
Will we?
Aug 25, 2016
Aug 25, 2016 at 4:26 AM UTC
i've apologised for the hair on my upper lip
and the cellulite on my thighs,
for crying over a death 12 years ago
and for being too loud, too brash
yet the body that entwines with mine
hands clasped, held tight -
it's not just their body heat that keeps me warm
but the way they keep their arms wide,
waiting for my embrace,
it's their hair in the morning
and their addiction to yeast,
their caring nature
and ability to make me feel safe
that make me feel content.
the way they laugh at their own jokes
and remain the sorest loser at any given game
gives me strength
hope
for lighter days
unapologetically ourselves,
together
unapologetically
Mar 18, 2019
Mar 18, 2019 at 4:54 PM UTC
A sun settles over chasing dawn
Looming fate approaches drawn
By carriages of hate that ramble
Reprobate to wander willing of that
Which elevates soul to levels
Thrice unknown by the deep
And whitish bone man is able
For a while to disable that
Which smiles in the pit
Of sorest bind and fires lit
Matching each the others wit
Price for enmity, judging fit
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 1:00 AM UTC
Through the trees
I hear the screams
From killing sprees
Where critters feed
And their prey bleeds
In dire need
Of a savior steed
To come running from the hills
But all I see are landfills
Made from man’s will
In this selfish standstill
Trying to band bills
For canned thrills
I hear the screams of animals
They can’t be examined though
I must deal with cannibals
That are shooting cannonballs
While the innocence of man falls
And only the vicious stand tall
In the forests and town halls
The killers control it all
I must watch my own back
For a predatory attack
So I run through the forest
Staying on my own track
Until I’ve become the sorest
Making my vision black
So I join the vicious pack
Of wolves that eviscerate
Less fortunate creatures
Accepting my vicious fate
In this dismal feature
The animals I had to defeat
Now hang from my teeth
Like a sword in its sheath
Their life I deplete
For a night’s sleep
Of the mighty elite
By joining the feet
That trample and beat
I’m an evil force
Until I see the horse
That’ll change the course
Advising us to avoid the source
Of that which causes pain
Yet that’s my vicious game
So I feel the richest shame
But I’m ignored all the same
Yearning for fields of grain
Growing outside of my lane
Nourishing the timid and tame
Who I convinced myself were lame
Who’ve now broken the chains
Of hell’s flames
I drew from the vicious well
Now I live in a parallel
Spare hell
Blocking the stairwell
To the place the mare sells
Of refreshing fair smells
Instead of the death in this abyss
I should’ve uncurled my fist
To make the steed’s list
So I might’ve found bliss
Now I must fulfill my wish
Of viciousness
Dec 14, 2018
Dec 14, 2018 at 1:54 PM UTC
Trotting through the forest,
Howls sounding sorest,
I listen to the wolves cry,
Talking to the moon just as I.
We run free,
Because we are afraid and alone,
Looking for company,
For someone to accept us as their own.
I trust my instincts to protect,
Just as easily as water can reflect,
I trust my heart to lead,
Because I know I won’t be mislead.
But it isn’t as easy as it seems when your supposed to be the predator but instead your the prey...
Feb 1, 2018
Feb 1, 2018 at 9:14 PM UTC