"sov" poems
Who taught thee conflict with the pow’rs of night,
To vanquish satan in the fields of light?
Who strung thy feeble arms with might unknown,
How great thy conquest, and how bright thy crown!
War with each princedom, throne, and pow’r is o’er,
The scene is ended to return no more.
O could my muse thy seat on high behold,
How deckt with laurel, how enrich’d with gold!
O could she hear what praise thine harp employs,
How sweet thine anthems, how divine thy joys!
What heav’nly grandeur should exalt her strain!
What holy raptures in her numbers reign!
To sooth the troubles of the mind to peace,
To still the tumult of life’s tossing seas,
To ease the anguish of the parents heart,
What shall my sympathizing verse impart?
Where is the balm to heal so deep a wound?
Where shall a sov’reign remedy be found?
Look, gracious Spirit, from thine heav’nly bow’r,
And thy full joys into their bosoms pour;
The raging tempest of their grief control,
And spread the dawn of glory through the soul,
To eye the path the saint departed trod,
And trace him to the ***** of his God.
2.7k
God moves in a mysterious way,
His wonders to perform;
He plants his footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.
Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never-failing skill,
He treasures up his bright designs,
And works his sov'reign will.
Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take,
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break
In blessings on your head.
Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust him for his grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.
His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding ev'ry hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flow'r.
Blind unbelief is sure to err,
And scan his work in vain;
God is his own interpreter,
And he will make it plain.
2.6k
red blue
reptiles reptiles
white russian ****** mary
puritan pride puritan pride
freemason freemason
where the good, old days at? where the odd. good days at?
conspiracy conspiracy
deep fake deep fake
trump has a wooden leg biden has a wooden leg
aliens aliens
wars wars
china china
abortion abortion
manifest destiny manifest destiny
lobbyists lobbyists
fox nbc
sovereign citizen version
hey!
get the hell out of america!
your title makes no sense
if you're a citizen of the world, then move to that world
who do you think you are? God or something?
(as it appears on https://www.merriam-webster(no lie)
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sov·er·eign | \ ˈsä-v(ə-)rən
, -vərn also ˈsə- \
variants: or less commonly sovran
Definition of sovereign
(Entry 1 of 2)
1a : one possessing or held to possess supreme political power or sovereignty
b : one that exercises supreme authority within a limited sphere
c : an acknowledged leader : arbiter
2 : any of various gold coins of the United Kingdom
sovereign adjective
sov·er·eign | \ ˈsä-v(ə-)rən
, -vərn also ˈsə- \
variants: or less commonly sovran
Definition of sovereign (Entry 2 of 2)
1a : superlative in quality
b : of the most exalted kind : supreme sovereign virtue
c : having generalized curative powers a sovereign remedy
d : of an unqualified nature : unmitigated sovereign contempt
e : having undisputed ascendancy : paramount
2a : possessed of supreme power a sovereign ruler
b : unlimited in extent : absolute
c : enjoying autonomy : independent sovereign states
3 : relating to, characteristic of, or befitting a supreme ruler : royal a sovereign right
Nov 2, 2021
Nov 2, 2021 at 12:08 AM UTC
Der er udstilling på onsdag
Jeg skal huske øl på fredag
Sov hos Emil til torsdag
Sidste udsalg mandag
Jeg kysser ham lørdag
Og mister ham søndag
Og glemmer ham tirsdag
Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 6:40 PM UTC
No more the flow’ry scenes of pleasure rife,
Nor charming prospects greet the mental eyes,
No more with joy we view that lovely face
Smiling, disportive, flush’d with ev’ry grace.
The tear of sorrow flows from ev’ry eye,
Groans answer groans, and sighs to sighs reply;
What sudden pangs shot thro’ each aching heart,
When, Death, thy messenger dispatch’d his dart?
Thy dread attendants, all-destroying Pow’r,
Hurried the infant to his mortal hour.
Could’st thou unpitying close those radiant eyes?
Or fail’d his artless beauties to surprise?
Could not his innocence thy stroke controul,
Thy purpose shake, and soften all thy soul?
The blooming babe, with shades of Death o’er-spread,
No more shall smile, no more shall raise its head,
But, like a branch that from the tree is torn,
Falls prostrate, wither’d, languid, and forlorn.
“Where flies my James?” ’tis thus I seem to hear
The parent ask, “Some angel tell me where
“He wings his passage thro’ the yielding air?”
Methinks a cherub bending from the skies
Observes the question, and serene replies,
“In heav’ns high palaces your babe appears:
“Prepare to meet him, and dismiss your tears.”
Shall not th’ intelligence your grief restrain,
And turn the mournful to the cheerful strain?
Cease your complaints, suspend each rising sigh,
Cease to accuse the Ruler of the sky.
Parents, no more indulge the falling tear:
Let Faith to heav’n’s refulgent domes repair,
There see your infant, like a seraph glow:
What charms celestial in his numbers flow
Melodious, while the foul-enchanting strain
Dwells on his tongue, and fills th’ ethereal plain?
Enough—for ever cease your murm’ring breath;
Not as a foe, but friend converse with Death,
Since to the port of happiness unknown
He brought that treasure which you call your own.
The gift of heav’n intrusted to your hand
Cheerful resign at the divine command:
Not at your bar must sov’reign Wisdom stand.
1.8k
*** spurgte om vi skulle drikke kaffe. bestilte kakao istedet. jeg drak min kaffe. som aftalt. vi snakkede som dengang. ingen hæmninger. hudløst ærlige - om alt andet end os.
*** sov med smykker på. iført sine læderbukser og en nedringet t-shirt. nattetimernes tomhed blev afbrudt af en snorken, som jeg besynderligt nok fandt tiltrækkende.
*** bad mig om at finde min gamle lighter frem. rive i tandhjulet i et forsøg på at skabe en gnist. en gammel flamme kunne opstå. med lidt held og den rette fremgangsmåde.
kaffen er skyld i, at jeg ikke er en del af hendes drømme. kakaoen er skyld i, at *** ikke er en del af min virkelighed.
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 2:38 PM UTC
Alas! And did my Saviour bleed? And did my Sov'reign die?
Would He devote that sacred head For such a worm as I?
At the cross, at the cross where I first saw the light, And the
burden of my heart rolled away (rolled away), It was there by faith
I received my sight, And now I am happy all the day!
Was it for crimes that I have done, He groaned upon the tree?
Amazing pity! grace unkown! And love beyond degree!
At the cross, at the cross where I first saw the light, And the
burden of my heart rolled away (rolled away), It was there by faith
I received my sight, And now I am happy all the day!
Well might the sun in darkness hide, And shut his glories in,
When Christ, the mighty Maker, died For man, the creatures's sin.
At the cross, at the cross where I first saw the light, And the
burden of my heart rolled away (rolled away), It was there by faith
I received my sight, And now I am happy all the day!
Thus might I hide my blushing face While His dear cross appears;
Dissolve my heart in thankfulness, And melt mine eyes to tears.
At the cross, at the cross where I first saw the light, And the
burden of my heart rolled away (rolled away), It was there by faith
I received my sight, And now I am happy all the day!
But drops of grief can ne'er repay The debt of love I owe:
Here, Lord, I give myself away, 'Tis all that I can do!
At the cross, at the cross where I first saw the light, And the
burden of my heart rolled away (rolled away), It was there by faith
I received my sight, And now I am happy all the day!
By: Isaac Watts 1674-1748
Jan 10, 2013
Jan 10, 2013 at 2:09 PM UTC
Jeg var så lykkelig, og du var så lykkelig, og vi var så glade og lykkelige i øjeblikket. Vi var så forelskede den aften at byen bare hang som et maleri bag os. Du talte med en lav stemme, der fik højlydte grin ud ad mig, og så råbte vi et par gange at folk så smukke ud. Jeg tror at vi udgjorde et flot par der i mørket ved siden af neonlysene i søerne. Du sagde at du elskede mig fra Alaska og tilbage, og jeg svarede at du var skør. Du kastede dit hovede tilbage og smilte til hvad der lignede himlen, og så tog vi metroen fra Frederiksberg til Nørreport og løb til Marstalsgade med en rosé vi havde lånt af kiosken. Ad den smalle gade kiggede på høje bygninger og lod som om de alle var Eiffeltårnet. Vi kiggede ind ad folks små vinduer, og så de liv som jo foregår bag mure af beton. Et par som skændtes, og vi svor at det aldrig skulle være os. En far der lagde sin datter til at sove i en drømmeseng, som fik tårer frem i mine øjne. Du spurgte hvorfor jeg græd på en fredag aften, og jeg fortalte dig om min far som var forskruet og fanget i en billedramme på en villavej. Så kyssede du mig og sagde at mennesker bliver skøre af at leve i billedrammer. At de før eller siden knækker glasset, fordi at alt ilten forsvinder. Vi ville aldrig leve i en billedramme. Vi var de typer som man ville se på storskærm over Rådhuspladsen. Røde neonlys over alle menneskerne i billedrammer. Vi sov i min lejlighed på gulvet, fordi at sengen var for mennesker i billedrammer og vi var jo neonlys i forhold til de glødepærer. Og da vi vågnede, kiggede du på mig som om alt ilten var forsvundet ud ad rummet. Undskyldende over at have trukket vejret for dybt. Jeg forstod det ikke, men du fortrød mig lidt tror jeg. Du fortalte at du skulle hjem, hvor du derefter kindkyssede mig og forsvandt ud ad entreen. Du var ikke forelsket i mig trods gode kys og neonlys. Jeg var lidt ked af at jeg nåede at forelske mig i løbet af en nat.
Men hey det var jo ikke din skyld. Det er jo hvad der sker, når man drikker hvidvin på tom mave.
Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 10:53 AM UTC
Let other Poets write of their sweet Loves
and talk of them as though a goddess true,
as though she were surrounded by white doves
while other birds sing from the summer blue.
And Kings; O let them have their sov'reigns gold,
full-stamp'd with their proud portrait finely wrought,
for though a portrait bright 'tis ever cold —
a worthless prize unlook'd for and unsought.
So let the Poets sit and dream and think
and let proud Kings count their golden treasure,
for thy rich beauty shines thru' this black ink
making this page priceless beyond measure —
Leave Kings to count and Poets down to sit
if this not true in truth I never writ.
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 2:34 PM UTC
Jeg gik hjem og sov med dynen han sidst brugte hos mig
For måske var han ikke min længere, men det var den og det er det tætteste jeg nogensinde ville komme på ham igen
Aug 21, 2016
Aug 21, 2016 at 11:36 PM UTC
you are in violation
if i was you i'd let me go
you touch me i will have to use force
up to and including fatal force
hahahahaha
i am a sovereign citizen
who's laughing now
who's laughing
do it then big girl!
do it right now!
aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh
i am a sovereign citizen
what jurisdiction is this then
not a person or individual
i'm a man!
hahaha
i am a sovereign citizen
who's laughing now
who's laughing
i need your name and badge number right now
this is an assault this here is an assault
aaaaahhhhh help me help me help me!!!!
a sovereign citizen!
five million dollars!
aaaaaahhhhhhhhh
i do not consent!
i do not consent!
i need to see your badge
i need to see your badge now
are you assaulting me?
are you assaulting me?
aaaahhhh!!!
you are assaulting me!
aaaahhhh!!!
so, you are detaining me?
sir? are you detaining me?
so, you are detaining me!
help me help me help me!
i am a sovereign citizen
that is not my food stamp card!
i am a sovereign citizen!
as a man
what right do you have
to stop another man??
name and badge number
name and badge number
name and badge number!
aaaahhhh!!!!
i am a sovereign citizen!
i am not driving i'm traveling
i am telling you to stand down!
aaaahhhh!!!!!
i am a sovereign citizen
sov·er·eign
/ˈsäv(ə)rən/
royalty
numismatics
roman catholic church
noun
1.
a supreme ruler, especially a monarch.
cit·i·zen
/ˈsidizən,ˈsidisən/
noun
noun: citizen; plural noun: citizens
a legally recognized subject or national of a state or commonwealth, either native or naturalized.
Nov 3, 2021
Nov 3, 2021 at 1:48 AM UTC
Sov godt
For i søvnen er du sikker
Alt er rart
Når verden er fuld af fulderikker
Drøm sødt
For drømme varer ved
Og når alt andet er dødt
Giver drømmene dig fred
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 5:53 PM UTC
Vi havde et godt efterår os to. I skyggen af træet gennem enden af sommeren, indtil blade af bronze faldt i hovedet på os. Små kys på mit ansigt mens jeg sov, som fik mig til at drømme hver nat imens du så på mine fregner og små lykkelige, lukkede øjenlåg. Men ungdoms kærlighed er vel lavet af plastik, og nu er plastikken brandt fast på kogepladen i mit køkken af aluminium, og jeg skal rydde det hele op. Og det eneste jeg laver nu er at spekulere på om det enten er for sent til at drikke kaffe eller for tidligt til at drikke mig fuld, og jeg er trist efter dig. Nu spiser jeg ude hele tiden, selvom det er sidst på måneden og de halvtredsere jeg har kan tælles på en hånd, fordi jeg er bange for at brænde mere på i køkkenet. Men en halv pakke smøger, et par hundrede kroner og en nuddelboks kunne jeg leve af, hvis du ville kysse mine fregner igen.
Jul 21, 2015
Jul 21, 2015 at 8:57 PM UTC
men tanken om at det i stedet er hende
der får din varme
uskyldige kys i nakken
i mørke soveværelser
hendes fingre flettet ind i dine
hende, der fjerner dit tøj
og rører dig
hende, der hører dig når du så passioneret spiller
blid musik
hende, der hører dine inderste tanker
på dovne søndagsmorgener
jeg håber *** ved
at *** ligner mig
og jeg håber *** er klar over
at det før var mig der før hørte dine historier
delte din musik
og arret over dine læber
jeg håber *** ved
at jeg var der først
at det var mig der sov i dine arme
holdt dine hænder
kyssede dine læber
samlet i timevis
jeg håber du husker
de magiske stunder
stille nætter i stormvejr
kys under fyrværkeri
og i nattens mørke
efter ungdommens fester
bliver jeg mon hos dig
bliver jeg gammel med dig
i dine tanker
som du vil blive i mine
for du var der først
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 9:17 AM UTC
han er forfatter og rapper og skuespiller og han vil have mig på besøg til pizza og rødvin. det skulle have været i dag, men vi sov begge lur til aften, så det blev for sent, udsat til lørdag. måske har jeg samlet mod til den tid. men jeg ved ikke hvordan man gør, jeg har ikke lært det. altså hvordan spiser man mad uden at spilde ned af sig selv? hvordan drikker man vin uden at blive for stiv? hvordan er man sammen med en mand uden at kneppe ham?
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 3:43 PM UTC
Søvn er en spøjs tidsfordriv
Driver med vores tid, næsten ligesom vi selv gør
I overskud er det overvurderet og underordnet
I underskud er det undervurderet og overtagende
Kommer naturligt ligesom hik i timen og snøft i januar
Men det er da dumt at bruge halvdelen af sit liv
på egentlig ikke at opleve noget
Men ................................................
det
er
også
dumt
ikke
at sove
Så godnat..........................................
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 3:45 PM UTC
lost
vision
perspective
identity
labeled; boxed in; trapped
Who am I? Who am I?
words offered and rejected
Was I ever really found?
questioning Providence, sov'reign plans
hopeless, worthless, careless, less, less, and less
heartbroken, loving eyes watch me stagger
rudimentary fundamentals
Sunday school rhymes, 'tis precious now
oh, take me back to the start
teach me again my name
Who am I? Who am -
free and redeemed,
forgiven;
now I'm
found
Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 8:18 PM UTC
Forleden en dag
Cyklede jeg hjem i mørket
Jeg kiggede op og himlen var klar
Stjernerne glimtede
Og mine våde øjne blinkede
Tårerne ned af mine kolde kinder
Og jeg tænkte
At vi i det mindste sov under samme himmel
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 5:41 AM UTC