"sourest" poems
Come and let us live my Dear,
Let us love and never fear,
What the sourest Fathers say:
Brightest Sol that dies today
Lives again as blithe tomorrow,
But if we dark sons of sorrow
Set; o then, how long a Night
Shuts the Eyes of our short light!
Then let amorous kisses dwell
On our lips, begin to tell
A Thousand, and a Hundred, score
An Hundred, and a Thousand more,
Till another Thousand smother
That, and that wipe off another.
Thus at last when we have numb’red
Many a Thousand, many a Hundred;
We’ll confound the reckoning quite,
And lose ourselves in wild delight:
While our joys so multiply,
As shall mock the envious eye.
4.2k
on beds of fragrant sights
through charms of sourest deeds
it rains away all spring
all when my heart bleeds
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i know not who i'll be
or what i really am
an immemorial soul
in nimbler storms which swam
among the crowd of flowers
so sickeningly sweet
would lie the boldest aphids
upon the roses feed
my feathers trod on winds
challenge His modest grace
through marching fleet of life
in ****** shadows laid
with semblance of a calm
in grooves of wilderness
in arms of ecstasy
which life stands to confess
but how shall these two feet
embark a lonely trip
perhaps find love so still
as dew on roses' lip
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in faintest of moonlights
on dewy grasses seen
inscribed upon my palm
is meaning of my being.
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 8:20 AM UTC
No:8
7th-AUG-2018
Believe it or not, even the strong need support
even the strong need reassurance.
I need support
I need reassurance
It’s not enough to say you love me
How do you show it!?
It’s not enough to say you want me
How do you prove it!?
I will go to the moon and back for you!!
I’ve heard that before and in the same breath you spoke these words you refuse me a glass of water;
The moon is quite far away
I love you to the moon and back, I’ve also heard but the sourest touch of my hand sends you into unexplainable rage. Love as fickle as the wind
Support me so we may ascend and be reborn anew into something greater than we once had.
Reassure me so I have a reason to keep my eyes on you and you alone.
Feed me energy that berths success
Feed me.
Rex Verum Regem
TFK
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 3:19 AM UTC
They that have power to hurt and will do none,
That do not do the thing, they most do show,
Who, moving others, are themselves as stone,
Unmovèd, cold, and to temptation slow,
They rightly do inherit heaven’s graces,
And husband nature’s riches from expense;
They are the lords and owners of their faces,
Others, but stewards of their excellence.
The summer’s flower is to the summer sweet,
Though to itself, it only live and die,
But if that flower with base infection meet,
The basest **** outbraves his dignity.
For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;
Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.
1.2k
hey, wake up.
there’s that girl at the door for you again:
this time she’s got you a little cardboard box
full of withered browning poppies
straight from her garden;
rain-stained and trembling,
she’s got on the sourest of smiles.
she’s crowding your room with remains,
she’s teaching you self-preservation,
she loves you.
today, she’s knocking on your door
with the impatience of a devil;
yesterday, she’s holding your hand,
rolling the pads of her fingers
over every bump of your knuckles
complimenting your bone structure.
“when you die, give your body to science,”
she says, and you know that she means
‘give it to me’—you have already said yes
quite some time ago now.
today, you’re waking up,
you’re wondering the time,
you’re opening the door,
you’re saying hello i missed you.
it’s been fifteen hours.
you’re eating your heart out
and feeding her the scraps.
tomorrow, you're picking meat
from her teeth, just one little bird
that can't believe its luck.
she invites herself in, and you see
with a little stumbling delight
that she’s wearing those gloves you like,
oh, that soft old berry-red pair—
the ones that smell of ash and ink,
used matches and newspaper-print.
she peels them off her hands,
presses them into yours, and,
entirely shameless,
you grip them tight.
you savour their warmth,
you savour their feel.
you consider residual skin cells.
you consider honest infatuation.
neither of them seem to you
to be the truth and nothing but,
not quite, not wholly.
you love anatomy, you love her.
save the both of you some trouble
and don’t bother trying to choose.
she’s sitting on the edge of your bed
and she smells like old perfume
that wants to tell you it smells
like a summer day;
she’s kicking off her shoes,
she’s talking about cutting your hair:
where do you keep the scissors?
she’ll say she wants to paint your nails, too
but really she just wants to think
about tearing them out.
it’s hard to know but you think
you might want that too.
everything’s so complicated—
you just want to be beside her
so that’s where you are! now
she’s ********* crisp shrunken petals
right into your mouth. is she?
she’s got her nails on your lips either way.
you’re tasting nature at its end.
you’re just waiting to join it.
hey, wake up.
Jan 31, 2013
Jan 31, 2013 at 12:07 AM UTC
they eat their own inconsequential and comatose integrity.
With relish.
they chew their knotty and petty problems endlessly
into bowls full of intellectually based uber slop
seasoned with bitter inchoate knowledge
and then add a dash of verbose celebrity froth.
Stir well.
they grind all their societal and artistic obsequiousness
into salubrious and meaningless observations
and then add the sourest flavour of the month
and stir with inconsequential turmoil.
and oh boy how poets can stir!!.
Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 1:22 AM UTC
Avatar Queen
The mask or the screen,
What’s never to know
What’s never to see
Avatar Queen
Your name to mislead,
One more cryptic posting
That always deceives
Avatar Queen
Both petty and preened,
The bees in your bonnet
No stinger foreseen
Avatar Queen
You know what I mean,
With feelings all borrowed
And vistas unseen
Avatar Queen
The sourest cream,
No reason to wish
All hope dressed in green
Avatar Queen
Your anger unweaned,
My answer then sharp
My rapier free
Avatar Queen
Not to sleep or to dream,
Your nightmare awoken
In daylight you scream
Avatar Queen
One curse washes clean,
Your blessings defaced
—no chance to redeem
(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2016)
Apr 30, 2019
Apr 30, 2019 at 1:05 PM UTC
You are hideous and horrible
Your voice is like nails on a chalk board
As you taunt younger children
You are like a monkey on stilts
The way you try to fit in and know you don’t
Your face is like a cat that just ate the world sourest warhead
When you scowl and glare at your new enemies and old friends
You are like a snake
The way you sneak your good grades into the trash
Then you lie and say you failed
You are like a horrible gossip channel
Making fun of others to bring you higher
You are like an ongoing cycle
Changing all the time
Like time
The way you keep going and never look back
You are dumber than a box of rocks when it comes to life
Why?
Because you gave up on your true friends for fake ones
You stepped over a dull dollar for a shiny dime
You are like a siren
Making people see what you want them to see
But not you what you are
Just another nerd like me.
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 2:22 AM UTC
you might as well
asked me to drink
bleach through a straw,
boiling to a point where
i could smell the sharpness
like a needle through my nose
and when girls say they
tried to drink men away, i
laugh at them
because yellow teeth
and lemonade
from the sourest of lemons,
squeezed and strained through a
sugared cloth by the hands of
your mother's mother
still tastes like ****
sour as it may be
life is nothing more
than an endless
under-sink
cabinet
Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 9:49 PM UTC
Will sweet dreams with the sourest links to you, be traced?
As unkind dreams, they come to haunt.
But shadows loom under the sky of a setting sun,
Will angels come as the walls fall down?
Death comes with a silent taunt
Sands of time, a mirage left intact in the world's eye.
Show me meaning, show me life,
With the dawn comes light,
So why does it feel like I can never wake up?
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 3:49 AM UTC
Life throws me a grenade
A lemon if you will
The sourest it could find
I like sour, but still
At some point I need sugar
But the effort is not but strife
So my only option is
To throw the lemon back at life
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 1:09 AM UTC
When the snow melts
and the weather gets warmer
Only then can my true happiness can come
The long days full of
sweat
Dirt
Mud
Even after i come home for the night
I will still find pieces of hay in my hair and my clothes
Putting days worth of training
In hopes it will pay off
when the weekends come
And i can go to the shows
And may i find myself emotionally unstable i can find my way to the stables
i will find my happiness
in somthing so dangerous
with a mind of its own
but have total faith
that it'll do me no harm
even on the sourest days
i can find the sweetest escape
a hand full of mane
running free out in a feild
no saddle or bridal to keep us trapped
just our souls
dancing in the wind
Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 8:12 PM UTC
I tasted fate in different flavors,
The sourest I held the dearest.
Dripping wounds in tangy shower,
Life is but the sum of memories.
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 7:37 AM UTC
Muses, let my thoughts flow as if of ink
Like the great philosophers, into my mind I sink
To see what lies within the areas where few dare to go,
For introspection is a hard seed to grow
While we think we know what makes us tick,
The reality oftentimes makes us sick
The hatred, sadness, and thoughts of death
Leave the sourest of tastes on the sweetest of breath
But with these few words I hope you will see,
The truth in the enigma that is my psyche
For while from all other arts I do refrain,
These are the sad imaginings of a tortured brain.
Jul 14, 2018
Jul 14, 2018 at 2:38 PM UTC
Dream ( Acrostic)
During the day you can’t find it,
Reappears never ever as though it was a bandit
Every Night a new adventure begins,
Aeons have passed but, moods it continues to lightens,
My dreams would get me a genuine grade, but some I can’t submit
Worth More Alive
United for wildlife is trying so that the tuskers can strive,
A hundred killed every day, and soon there will be left only five.
The elephants are ultimate help in construction and in gardening,
You do them well, they come to pay you homage barging,
I don’t know about you, but I think elephants are worth more alive.
Smile ( Acrostic)
Sometimes it’s great to simper,
Many take it as pass on letter,
In one go, it can brighten many days,
Laughter now fills the air no matter how strong the sun blaze,
Everyday to smile is the thing one should always remember.
Opened Its Wings
A ship once sailed to this dock,
By accident, it went loose and went on an amazing adventure,
It went to a place it thought it was too feeble to go to,
But that was just its starting point,
Ever since, it has had great adventures, only because it let loose and opened its wings!
RINGS THE EUPHORIA
We promulgate tussle a times
And at time rings the euphoria in the sourest limes,
We have clubbable times and even doleful one,
Sometimes we can be fidus Achates and sometimes with each other we’re done,
But whatever happens we’ll be sisters, like two chimes in a wind chime
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 10:35 AM UTC
You were the sweetest
guy I knew and I turned you
into the sourest.
Sep 3, 2013
Sep 3, 2013 at 5:46 AM UTC
While thou on Tereus descant'st better skill.
Some in their garments, though new-fangled ill,
For nothing this wide universe I call,
My love is as a fever, longing still
'Long may they kiss each other, for this cure!
Doth in her poison'd closet yet endure.'
He kisses her; and she, by her good will,
To accessary yieldings, but still pure
But low shrubs wither at the cedar's root.
He shall not boast who did thy stock pollute
And leave the faltering feeble souls alive?
And, thou away, the very birds are mute;
For now she knows it is no gentle chase,
Because the cry remaineth in one place,
To change your day of youth to sullied night;
Dulling my lines and doing me disgrace.
Then call them not the authors of their ill,
Like to a mortal butcher bent to ****
'O Jove,' quoth she, 'how much a fool was I
An humble gait, calm looks, eyes wailing still,
But her foresight could not forestall their will.
The silly lambs: pure thoughts are dead and still,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
Is form'd in them by force, by fraud, or skill:
Whose ridges with the meeting clouds contend:
Were it not sinful then, striving to mend,
Doth half that glory to the sober west,
In true plain words by thy true-telling friend;
Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead?
Is madly toss'd between desire and dread;
For all my mind, my thought, my busy care,
A second fear through all her sinews spread,
And, blushing with him, wistly on him gazed;
Her earnest eye did make him more amazed:
And for my sake serve thou false Tarquin so.
That two red fires in both their faces blazed;
That all the world besides methinks are dead.
For then is Tarquin brought unto his bed,
For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;
O me, what eyes hath Love put in my head,
He ran upon the boar with his sharp spear,
Stands on his hinder legs with listening ear,
She tears the senseless Sinon with her nails,
Doth yet in his fair welkin once appear;
Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 2:53 PM UTC