"spurned" poems
593
I think I was enchanted
When first a sombre Girl—
I read that Foreign Lady—
The Dark—felt beautiful—
And whether it was noon at night—
Or only Heaven—at Noon—
For very Lunacy of Light
I had not power to tell—
The Bees—became as Butterflies—
The Butterflies—as Swans—
Approached—and spurned the narrow Grass—
And just the meanest Tunes
That Nature murmured to herself
To keep herself in Cheer—
I took for Giants—practising
Titanic Opera—
The Days—to Mighty Metres stept—
The Homeliest—adorned
As if unto a Jubilee
’Twere suddenly confirmed—
I could not have defined the change—
Conversion of the Mind
Like Sanctifying in the Soul—
Is witnessed—not explained—
’Twas a Divine Insanity—
The Danger to be Sane
Should I again experience—
’Tis Antidote to turn—
To Tomes of solid Witchcraft—
Magicians be asleep—
But Magic—hath an Element
Like Deity—to keep—
40.2k
‘To bed! To bed!’
Said Sleepy-head;
‘Tarry awhile,’ said Slow;
‘Put on the pan,’
Said Greedy Nan;
‘We'll sup before we go.’
(from Mother Goose)
They sat at the kitchen table as
The candle flickered low,
And Greedy Nan put on the pan
To indulge her sister, Slow,
While Sleepy Weepy Annabelle
Blotted her book with tears,
And thought of her Beau from long ago
Who she hadn’t seen for years.
‘Why doesn’t Roger notice me,
Why doesn’t Alan Dell?
I’m wearing the dress cut low for me
And I’ve hitched my skirt as well.
I’ve a pretty turn to my ankle, so
You’d think it would drive them wild.’
‘But men are a mystery,’ said Slow,
‘And Alan Dell’s a child.’
While over the pan stood Greedy Nan,
Was cracking a turkey’s egg,
A lump of yeast and a slice of beast
And a single spider’s leg.
With a wing of bat and an ounce of fat
And a toe of frog for the spell,
She needed to turn her sister off
From her crush on Alan Dell.
For Greedy Nan was the eldest girl
And would have to marry first,
The other two would wait in the queue
Or their fortunes be reversed,
The omelette sizzled, and in the pan
She added before they saw,
A piece of some Devil’s Trumpet plant
For the mating game meant war.
She sliced the omelette into half
And she served them up a piece,
‘Didn’t you want?’ said Annabelle
But Slow enjoyed the feast.
‘I’m not that terribly hungry now
I’ve cooked it up in the pan,
I think I’ll just have a slice of bread,’
Said the scheming Greedy Nan.
They finished up and they sat awhile,
And they mused about their fate,
‘If Greedy Nan isn’t married soon,
For us it will be too late.’
‘I’ve set my sights on a country squire,’
Said Nan, without a blink,
Lured them away from her secret fire
To confuse what they might think.
‘The room is woozy, spinning around,
I’d better get me to bed,’
Said Annabelle, while Slow with a frown
Saw Dwarves dancing in her head.
But Greedy Nan was cleaning the pan
To clear all signs of the spell,
Her back was turned to her sisters, spurned
For the sake of Alan Dell.
And when he came in the morning
Greedy Nan was sat by the door,
While Annabelle and her sister Slow
Were lying dead on the floor,
‘I didn’t mean it to **** them, Al,
It was only a simple spell,’
But as he cuffed and led her away
He frowned, did Alan Dell.
David Lewis Paget
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 8:01 PM UTC
* *In love with Gwen Stacy
When in stasis* *
Cannot let go of the old neighborhood charm until?
*In love with Mary Jane
When the mind takes off* *
Now, I become the hero Spiderman yet a problem?
* *She leaves, no Mary Jane
And the symbiote, VENOM* *
Comes along in angry mind of the hero spurned?
* *Stuck in webs
anger as Man
Hero no words* *
Comes along in angry mind of the hero spurned?
* *I want to do something widcha'
something makes her mad
I want to do something widcha'
something makes him Mad.* *
* *I want to do something widcha'
some thing? ** *
Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 2:28 AM UTC
Lessons learned and losses spurned;
Burned are the sweet-nothings you often heard.
Mired in a conflict never-ending,
Stuck between loving and merely pretending.
Mar 3, 2016
Mar 3, 2016 at 10:42 PM UTC
My Arwen lies over Belegaer
Beyond the Straight Road, lies my Evenstar
Across the Endless Sea, in Aman she lies
She wouldn't stay here just to love, but to die
I remember her here, here in Endor
When the beacons of Gondor burned bright.
I remember her here, once beside me
In the days before the long night
In Imladris fair, as Estel I was raised
In ignorance there, I spent by blissful days
I lived, and I learned, and yet never yearned
For she from whom I now feel so spurned
I've had my Éowyns, but none quite compare
To She, my lady, so radiant, so fair
At Cerin Amroth we pledged our love
To all, ourselves, and the Ainur above
But the Darkness again spread
Morgoth's mission again led
The Fellowship was wrought
The battles all fought
The Age of the Firstborn was ended
The Age of the Hildor ascended
Our world together was split
And really, that was just it
She could stay here, forever, be mortal
But ever so closely lay Mithlond ,the portal
To a life without end, I can blame her hardly
I guess Barahir's tale was never to be
What’s this? You say she’s not yet set sail?
But how can I stop her? Our parting was so stale!
Sure Elrond's presence and Galadriel's glare
May have done oh so much to damper our parting
But as she goes afar I know I can't go there
And her expressed frigidity, that wound is still smarting
What should I do for her I adore?
Run to the Grey Havens and stop the White Ship?
But so much I must do, right here in Gondor,
A King I can become, as my Queen give me the slip
And the spirits are howling,
The white tree is burning?!
My power, my people
BUT I CAN'T STOP THIS YEARNING
Oh what shall I do? TO ERU ABOVE
I have so much work, but I so miss my Love
The tears, they are welling, the Ship has set sail
In all my adventures, in truth I have failed!
For what am I worth? No King has Returned
And without Hope is Gondor, and the Stewards have burned
Denthar departed, the mighty horn split
The mighty White City left here to sit
I could let it fall into disarray,
Again a Ranger, I could slip away
To die like the Ents, forever, no Wife
Is there nothing to save me from this strife?
A new dawn is rising, a new age begun
My hopes might still clear
with the new rising Sun
I see its my duty, as Arathorn's son… what Isildur started, I must see done
but still I mourn my loss… that beautiful star, which now like all others, I must admire from afar.
~D. B. Guy
09/02/2007
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 2:21 AM UTC
.
*O beautiful sunshine, may you beam
On a dishevelled soul as it may seem
Reach for the deepened crevices
Let light illuminate the darkness
O beautiful sunshine, may you bathe
Upon a weepy morn that wished you’d save
Let no mossful stone be left unturned
Let there be hope to those left spurned*
.
Nov 18, 2018
Nov 18, 2018 at 1:03 AM UTC
On his mighty mountain
Jove reigned with his queen
Never questioned
Never held in check
Such riches never seen!
With mount Olympus as his home
Far above the throng
He could do just as he pleased
No, he was never wrong!
Then a fair nymph maiden
Caught Jove's roving eye
Hera was out shopping
He saw the maid go by...
Making his advances
He found that he was spurned!
No matter how he postured
Her head was never turned!
"Oh Jupiter!" She laughed aloud
"You bloated moon, you knave!
I'd rather love a he-goat
For all the gifts you gave!
You have no tact. No honor.
You plurocratic fool!
You pick your teeth with
Poor men's bones
Using wealth as tool!
Go on then! Arrest me!
Force me... if you dare...
But I know Hera's servants
The one's who do her hair!"
Jupiter was stymied
He knew just what this meant.
Hera'd throw a fit for sure!
So he had to relent.
But he cursed the nymph-maid
With great poverty.
But dissing him was such a joy
She'd do the same for FREE!
(C) SoulSurvivor
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 5:07 PM UTC
It is easy to romp and play
In lighthearted levity
When the sun doth shine so merrily
And the mallard flies so free
Yet to laugh when the stygian dark clouds grow
To dance when the gale winds blow
To smile & bow to the Reaper spurned
Is staunch strength well earned
Is God's fuel well burned
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 9:25 AM UTC
Gloomy morning attempts,
lazily an abstract,
on the damp canvas
eastern sky extends,
halfheartedly smearing,
dark monsoon clouds
along with some white and grey patches,
then slowly, warms up to a red mood;
as if by a second thought
adds full of flight of birds,
for an effect.
Avian splay, what a display!
The sun visibly gets pale,
upset being just a part of the picture,
unable to dominate, as his usual practice.
Not at all pleased at the emerging picture,
he sulks at the prospect,
of more dull, vain clouds rushing in,
spoiling the composition with their-
chance megalomaniacal dominance.
Jul 30, 2012
Jul 30, 2012 at 1:48 PM UTC
Even if love is never returned,
never even received,
it is never in vain
for love never fails
To love someone
though you mean nothing to them
may seem too cruel a burden
for the heart to bear
But the only thing worse
than not being loved
is to not love
And so the greatest tragedy
of love spurned or lost
would be to stop loving
For to cease loving
that which causes us pain
would be to let the pain win
But for as long as we love,
really love with Christ's own heart,
no matter what else happens
we win
Love without pain
remains unproven
and therefore is meaningless
But love through pain invokes
nothing less than the miraculous
and inspires even the incredulous
Only continued love
can redeem the pain of loving
and only a Perfect Love
can heal love's scalding wound
Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 5:23 PM UTC
A gray hippopotamus lived in a zoo
At the end of the Tropical Line,
Harry the Hippo lived next to the loo
Right by the Northern confines.
With his wide toothy smile,
And his great double chin,
He greeted his neighbors
With a great hippo grin...
Made friends with the deer,
Made friends with an owl,
Avoided the white scowling bear,
Avoided the family of wolves,
(He'd heard they liked to eat meat).
Decided to friend a great, walloping moose,
A challenge, his neighbor seemed rather elite.
Tall and severe with a beard on his chin,
He stood like a tree on his heavy brown hooves,
And branches of antlers stood heavy and grim.
"I see we are neighbors,"said Harry the Hippo,
"Name's Harry," he said with a grin,
"Since it looks like we'll be here a while, ya' know,
I figure we ought to be friends!"
"Bull" Moose only chewed a bit more on his cud,
Burped in the gray hippo's face,
Turned his wide antlers for well and for good...
He spurned the whole hippo race.
But Harry had patience,
Had nowhere to go,
So he waited a week and a month and a day
For Otto the Moose to come 'round,
And he did! And now the two of 'em play.
Our Harry's advice to you is be nice,
And after a while, it comes true....
The balkiest neighbors will have to think twice
And fall into friendship with you.
(0=
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 10:58 PM UTC
Black waters, cruel heart,
The Kelpie sits upon his throne
For eternity, doomed to play his part
And wait in vain for his one true own.
His servants are the poisonous eel,
Sea serpent, corpse, and dead man's ghost
Of his victims - though no pain they feel,
In death must earn his wrath the most.
In daylight was this lord's last goodness
Spurned and cast to mocking sea;
From damsel's touch this heart of darkness
Sprang, shall remain eternally
So: Once a time of cool recklessness
Brought the Kelpie ashore as the sun descended,
In pursuit of the voice as sweet as goodness
That sang ere the song of day had ended.
The Kelpie left the waters
For love of land-born daughter
And laid upon her lips a kiss,
And wove her his enchantment: --
"Tell me, maiden, do you weep
For Love's encounter sorely missed?
Do you not know the deep seas seek
Such tears as yours - they shall be kissed
"Beyond remembrance of those sad eyes,
Without recall of downcast smile
(The sea must love you in disguise
Only to scare sweet sorrows awhile.)
"Then let my voice your heart caress.
Come, take these hands to lead you hence
Into the surf, leave all duress
That land can offer; Love's light is sent
"To guide you, though the soulless waters
Close above your grief-bowed head.
Know, I will always follow after --
I, dark prince in daylight's stead."
He drew her to the sea's dark shore -
His eyes focused of one foul will:
To take her breath on ocean's floor
And so to bid her song be still.
*But the girl wouldn't go.
Behold! the mourning dawns
screams the shadows
away from the living orb!*
*Dark man -- melts the mask
Away: Black horse, drown
Your sorrows forever at the
Bottomless depths of loathing.*
She would not listen to his charms
When sunlight's worth came hers at last;
Now night, now day, his empty arms
Clutch mildewed dregs of the past.
Cruel waters guard the frozen heart
Of the Kelpie who sits upon his throne,
A slave to Love -- his one true part,
Bestowed by a gentle earthly voice
she left him alone.
Sep 17, 2012
Sep 17, 2012 at 5:39 AM UTC
A Hug,
How underrated
Available in the avail of a kiss,
Or the escape of one.
At birth
My mother showed me loves worth
Calmed the loudest cries
Hushing me
Just by holding me
Keeping me warm
Through the coldest times
As I grew older
This demonstration became more familiar
With family
So many I managed to manifest
My mannerisms allowed
Long embraces
That mattered so much!
All from a simple touch
The first time…
The first time,
With the one I loved
*********** lacked satisfaction
If after the contraction
We weren’t in each others arms…
Relaxin…
Chest to chest
You hold her
Can two hearts get any closer?
If my only love
Was to take her love away
In the most selfish absurd way
Spurned my love
She still wouldn’t be too stubborn to hug
Once the years have spun away
The best reconciliation
A Hug,
A gesture so benign
Even if I were to express
With my best friend, a canine
Or my only companion, a feline
People still wouldn’t see I
As constructed of **********
Alerting not a soul
Hearts become sole
Even when shared with animals.
Making Love,
Is not limited to ***
Or a kiss,
Instead,
The same bliss
Can be met
With a Hug.
What’s Love, But a Hug?
Oct 1, 2010
Oct 1, 2010 at 12:27 AM UTC
Contemptuous of his home beyond
The village and the village pond,
A large-souled Frog who spurned each byeway,
Hopped along the imperial highway.
Nor grunting pig nor barking dog
Could disconcert so great a frog.
The morning dew was lingering yet
His sides to cool, his tongue to wet;
The night dew when the night should come
A travelled frog would send him home.
Not so, alas! the wayside grass
Sees him no more:--not so, alas!
A broadwheeled waggon unawares
Ran him down, his joys, his cares.
From dying choke one feeble croak
The Frog's perpetual silence broke:
"Ye buoyant Frogs, ye great and small,
Even I am mortal after all.
My road to Fame turns out a wry way:
I perish on this hideous highway,-
Oh for my old familiar byeway!"
The choking Frog sobbed and was gone:
The waggoner strode whistling on.
Unconscious of the carnage done,
Whistling that waggoner strode on,
Whistling (it may have happened so)
"A Froggy would a-wooing go:"
A hypothetic frog trolled he
Obtuse to a reality.
O rich and poor, O great and small,
Such oversights beset us all:
The mangled frog abides incog,
The uninteresting actual frog;
The hypothetic frog alone
Is the one frog we dwell upon.
3.7k
If I give you love
what will I get in return?
will it be acknowledged?
or will it be but spurned?
If I offer my love
will you be mine forever?
or will you laugh at me
and say to me - not ever.
Am I just a fool in love?
head over heels and blind?
silly and sheepish, blushing
not knowing what's in my mind?
I stand on the steps of happiness
worried, lest I fall
falling at your feet
all curled up in a ball.
Columbus took a chance
and by God - he did all right
I cannot leave you now
without putting up a fight.
I smiled and said I love you
my voice began to crack
but your eyes lit up I swear
as you smiled at me right back!
Nov 23, 2021
Nov 23, 2021 at 10:14 PM UTC
When a loved one leaves our earthly plain,
They may not make it back again,
But clever tactics have been learned,
To show us we have not been spurned,
They drop a feather in our path,
It flutters down, though not by draft,
And judging by their pretty colour,
They don't belong, they're sent from others,
I always pick my feathers up,
They fill my heart with lots of love,
Proves those who've passed, are still around,
These gifted feathers on the ground.
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 6:41 PM UTC
These words keep arriving by post,
By phone and through the air:
They say, “I love you the most!”
And he’s always unprepared.
I dismissed them until I knew
What they could mean,
What they could do.
They let a young boy believe
In a dangerous fantasy
Of the young or naïve,
And give himself to ecstasy.
He’d already given himself away
To a girl who “merely loved” him;
He was swayed.
He was wounded by a whim.
How could his young heart
Know the anguish of love spurned?
Of changing minds and false starts?
That passion fades as quickly as it burns?
He was “crushed” when it ended;
His response, pure and true.
Still that phrase he insanely defended!
“I love you, I love you, and I love you”!
How hollow to me it still rings!
My beloved son in pain.
What makes a girl do these selfish things?
What is it that they gain?
Young hearts now seem to lack wisdom;
They’re so eager to believe.
Yet they haven’t the caution
It takes to give love and receive.
Summer, 2006
Mar 30, 2019
Mar 30, 2019 at 8:56 AM UTC
In mighty kingdoms far away
Grew an elven king, stern and wise
Whose young daughter grew in the fields
with eyes as blue as the clearest skies
Elenir, was the daughters name
who danced amongst leaves like gold
whose laughter rang like a thousand bells
whose fair skin would never grow or old
There a traveller came from mountains
and lost, he wandered beneath the trees
he drank from nameless rivers
and voyaged across the savage seas
They met under the sheets of stars
as she saved him from himself
he touched her hair, felt her voice
and till death, he stayed with the elf
His human life frayed away
After a mere blink of years
She watched and stroked his aging face
and wiped away her tears
And when he passed, she could not bear
the pain that she felt inside
the once swaying trees that danced
felt empty, old and dried
She traveled up to the clifftops
Elenir cried her lovers name
She threw herself into the raging oceans
for her life was never the same
The elven king was despaired to see
the loss of his cherished daughter
He cursed the lands
Set fire blazing
and froze the wicked waters
He hide away his treasured kingdom
and watched as the world around him burned
His soldiers pleaded, his people begged
to not leave the world so spurned
But his heartbreak was too great to deal
The world fell into darkness
and with the once-beautiful Elenirs death
the skies grew black and starless
Dec 18, 2015
Dec 18, 2015 at 12:37 AM UTC
****** Off
I'm feeling rather foul today,
so I ask you to ****** off,
it's not pretty when I get this way,
you just need to ****** off,
please don't get in my face I pray,
you need to just ****** off,
my head gets hard and my heart turns to clay,
it's best if you ****** off,
I'm asking you to please stay away,
why can't you just ****** off,
not sure if I'm sad, but certainly not gay,
won't you please just ****** off,
maybe I need a good roll in the hay,
naw, just won't you please ****** off,
just got crap on my shirt, from a flying Blue Jay,
gotta go inside and get that ****** off,
that's the way it's been going for me this whole GD day,
why won't the world just leave, ****** off,
no blue skies here, just cloudy and gray,
is it a sign for me, to just ****** off,
no, tomorrow will change, at least that's what I say,
then you flip me the bird, and yell ****** off,
now I'm back where I was, I'll hide until May,
no one to tell me, hey ****** off,
like my love who has spurned me, turned me away,
she said it was too much, I must ****** off,
maybe worms for lunch, with a glass of OJ,
then I can do my own ****** off
Gomer LePoet...
Apr 9, 2010
Apr 9, 2010 at 5:48 AM UTC
Once I looked to the Bard for words profound;
ageless, his wisdom ran unabated.
Yet Hamlet is now ideologically unsound,
“the slings and arrows” historically Iocated.
I wept for the creature of Frankenstein,
spurned by his master, forced to roam the Earth.
But I’d been subjectively positioned in a paradigm
by Mary’s anxiety about childbirth.
I read Balzac, Hardy and Henry James
describing “worlds” which seemed quite sensible.
Now Eagleton’s exposed their bourgeois games
I find them morally reprehensible.
I dreamt of being Robinson Crusoe
or proud, fierce Hawkeye in his buckskins dressed,
but Fenimore and Defoe have to go,
they’re culturally encoded and empirically obsessed.
Inspired by Guinness, did James Joyce sit down
to see what magic flowed when he was ******
The stream of Ulysses floats Bloom-about-town
dreamthinkingnever : “I’mamodernist”.
I’d gladly give Woolf a Room of Her Own
and be one of the boys with Hemingway,
but sensitive guys leave their bulls alone
say de Beauvoir and Luce Irigaray.
No more fun with Wordsworth being daffodilly,
no simple pleasure reading Mickey Mouse;
Steamboat Willie can’t help but look silly
dissected by Foucault and Levi-Strauss.
The Bible shows intertextuality
says the two Jacques, Lacan and Derrida.
Judas, a construct of bisexuality?
The **** fixations of Herod are?
It’s got so bad I deconstruct a holiday brochure.
I can’t even **** without Roland Barthes and Ferdinand de Saussure.
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 12:06 AM UTC
I sought satisfaction in stupid sheepishly and shallow strides.
Scared subconsciously, I swallow and sustain substance for pseudo self esteem strengthening.
I seemed of in service to slumber and stinging sadness, shots sank like ships, submerging into the sea of my swarthy stomach in seconds.
I somewhat sympathies as a sailor, sweating, struggling and swimming in slipping sobriety saturated in my sulking style.
Scanning swarms of serial swindlers, striking sculptures stances of self-doubt.
I stammer in a storm of slurs, ******* down my safety, stopping myself at the stoop of the saloon I see a seductive silhouette staging the space.
She stroke my sight, standing sanguine in scarlet, soul sold in high heels.
The smoothest sculptures in seven square miles were subjugated into scree and I was ****** in submission.
Stubborn staggering suitors, stand shaking silently as she is stopped by sharks stalking and snarling sycophantics.
So straightforward in suggesting their secret starvation to strip sensations, seem by seem, like a sub-par **** cinema scene.
They step and speak short.
She smokes off, stranding the scree in smoldering slaughter.
Its sad this soul-less sanctuary soaking up sorrows.
So self inflicting, and so satisfyingly side splitting.
She sported her spurned, scorned off into sadistic solitude and stained sticky stigma, sobbing to sleep.
So spent from simple stocked, stored and supported senescence of ceremonial subjection of ****** status.
I savior my sincerity, and stretched out of this strange stadium of stooges.
So long scarlet sanguine I sang softly, as she stole my sight suspiciously in sync with hers.
Sacrificial seconds split from smearing stolidity to sharing a smile.
That's simple satisfaction, so I seen scripted in sitcoms and shows.
Supporting sapiens in stasis to see sappy stunners on screen, to stare snoopy, as stabs and slashes strike socially into socialites of so called sanity and sovereignty.
To sweetly pay salvage as slaves of soppy studio slander.
Such is this sorry Saturday night, I am solidified in sedation.
Dec 14, 2017
Dec 14, 2017 at 12:00 PM UTC
1350
Luck is not chance—
It’s Toil—
Fortune’s expensive smile
Is earned—
The Father of the Mine
Is that old-fashioned Coin
We spurned—
2.8k
A Wizard trapped her reflection.
To be within the mirror forever,
She had spurned him with rejection.
Two keys to a mystery box hidden forever.
A brave young Prince wanted to set her free,
Solve that secret of the mystery box.
So he began the search for the first key,
To open the first of the two locks.
He braved a dragon high on its' nest,
But he did not find the key hidden there.
He battled Ice Warriors with his best,
They had no knowledge of the secret to share.
Then he would save a Witch from a Demon Banshee,
She told him all he had to do was ask for his reward.
So the Prince was given the first key,
He searches on, battling a Demon Hoarde.
Years pass him by, until that Wizard he faced,
The Prince was an old man, he still would fight.
The battle was long, the Wizard was disgraced,
Gaining that second key was a victory sight.
The Prince travelled back to the mirror and mystery box,
He was tired and very old, but he would set her free.
So he took out both keys, and he opened the locks,
A light surrounded him from the beautiful sight he could see.
He is young again, he has his life given brand new,
From out of the box, he took out a diamond heart.
Now the girl starts before him with a heart that is true,
The Prince lifted her up in his arms, for they shall never be apart.
Jul 2, 2010
Jul 2, 2010 at 11:35 AM UTC
Oh, deem not they are blest alone
Whose lives a peaceful tenor keep;
The Power who pities man, has shown
A blessing for the eyes that weep.
The light of smiles shall fill again
The lids that overflow with tears;
And weary hours of woe and pain
Are promises of happier years.
There is a day of sunny rest
For every dark and troubled night;
And grief may bide an evening guest,
But joy shall come with early light.
And thou, who, o'er thy friend's low bier,
Sheddest the bitter drops like rain,
Hope that a brighter, happier sphere
Will give him to thy arms again.
Nor let the good man's trust depart,
Though life its common gifts deny,--
Though with a pierced and broken heart,
And spurned of men, he goes to die.
For God has marked each sorrowing day
And numbered every secret tear,
And heaven's long age of bliss shall pay
For all his children suffer here.
2.7k
three ripe figs: maiden-mother-crone
fresh and green, not fully grown
gravid, blushing, ripe allure
nut-brown, wrinkled, sun-matured.
which of these the sweetest be?
high upon this old fig tree
maiden tartness bright and young
full womanhood upon the tongue.
drooping breast and brown age-spots
spurned by youthful hungry thoughts.
adolescent, first one picked
complex taste is not quite fixed.
plump and ready, sun-touched mother
ripe fig flavor like no other
ignored by most, her dried-up skin
sags dessicated on the limb.
with sweetest nectar deep inside.
never plucked and never tried.
Mar 1, 2012
Mar 1, 2012 at 1:22 PM UTC