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"staved" poems
My world is not of the written word It cannot be numbered held captive on a so called page My world is liquid as sea , rain , snow or ice It can be hot , cold , or entice My world is cloudy It thunders after it flashes light My world is wrong , my world is right There are no words that bind my life I won't be delegated to exist in the black on white I will not be staved by the limited sways of the written words upon the page
0
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 6:58 AM UTC
My world
Passing through mid-century these jazz oneironauts reached Apollonian heights while society drifted into Dionysian drunkenness the merchants caught on too soon The most beautiful parts of humanity enamored to serve the ugliest: The merchant class, the bourgeoisie Buddha’s undeserving in charge If only in past centuries those noble princesses embraced even more lowly patronages all this potential today could be staved off Saved from the drive to be commodified People stopped buying jazz as it reached its height No more smiles to appease the whites Jazz for the few the noble, the individual in the know Until this too becomes the simulacrum The Ornette Coleman on the bookshelf to signify your snootiness your refinement from wealth Aging Dads in thousand dollar sweaters kicking out their 22 year old kids for being ****** addled hipsters meanwhile Bird on Verve is nodding out and Dad’s girlfriend pops a Percocet to deal with all the stress
0
Jan 15, 2022
Jan 15, 2022 at 10:50 AM UTC
Overfull on Past Overflow
a conscious stake was city of justice where grand duchy staved it from the dark and rubbed unions particularly swank then treaty millennia till Brexit left their reckoning with covert aspects of haute recovery
0
Oct 25, 2018
Oct 25, 2018 at 2:10 PM UTC
Luxembourg
Love is like the fear in hope, When men gain too much pride. Although it seems to ever fade, Love will never die. And while the world is staved of faith, And evil will be ever great, Love can change and save the world, And love will never die. Peace on earth has never been, But it will come with strong-willed men, Charging through with open arms, Love will come again. We do what's right, And fight to see the light. It beckons, shining through a tiny hole. For as we get stronger... So does the burning coal. And as we know in our hearts That love will come again, We raise up flaming souls Undefeatable within.
0
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 12:55 AM UTC
Love Will Never Die
Seldom though eventually His words will wash away The human mind's a yawning sieve That siphons thoughts away For all we are is flesh and blood And dust, in all due time His face embedded in my thoughts Will someday leave my mind. Each grain of sand; each thought of him Will slither down the glass Slow and steady, one by one Until he's in the past. For now my mind's a youthful cache, No wave can wear or wash Impressions left upon my soul Cannot be staved or quashed. -Un-rhymed Notes- *Every once in a while The human mind is all it's built up to be; A sieve, where the balm of time slowly mends and knits The torn edges of the chasm. Every once in a while It is as if the wound has healed And the flow of muscle memory Ripples beneath the unmarred surface*
0
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 8:55 AM UTC
The Mind is a Sieve
Suddenly the world stood still Erupting goose bumps chill Piloted by those who terrorize Twin Towers they'd jeapardize Emotions of shock, disbelief Mourning, moaning and grief Bombed by aircraft killing all Extraordinary sorrow ... pall Resultant heroes came to call Eleviating pain where they could Lifting to safety as they should Everyone who could be saved Venom's evil could not be staved Even would we wish it to be so Numbers trapped perished tho' They will be forgotten not ever ... Honored in tribute, remembered forever. © Carmela M. Patterson, All rights reserved.
0
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 11:25 PM UTC
SEPTEMBER ELEVENTH [Acrostic]
Well you twinged my nerves as you may be swell but your words sure taste like the floors of hell So how are you ? You make me sick with your chameleon schtick You come on hard and you leave too quick So fine you say ? You're a dull moon hanging over a fetid swamp You will o'wisp as you begin to taunt So good to here . I is the first word from your mouth Aye I say ever tis thee out So kind of you . Green grounds out the sills as you have to say What's mine is will No other way . Here's the bag of bones you save the flesh ripped off the barrel's been staved So bye bye you . There's a moment I take to pause to pass some more of  Murphy's laws So I'll not be seeing you . I'll not , I'll not , I'll not be seeing you Goodbye , Goodbye to all and you to all and you ALL OF YOU !
0
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 10:40 AM UTC
XXXXED Out
All the questions I could ask myself About you and I and we and us Does not hold a candle to the truth outshining us. I do not need to hear your words, although you know I long to. You've slipped away, a swaying phase, unsteady as the moon In your island you're always hiding far out of reach for me. I know the rules and I try to tip-toe around them. Caught in a roulette wheel, shooting myself in the foot. Swinging on the vines like Tarzan in the jungle, my Jane Does not belong to me, enamored, enchained, To this life I'm in, I shall indeed remain. You are a glittering spotlight far away, The light tower, And I am only a glint in the corner of your eyelash, I might cower, The instant you turn to me, the minute you decide to fight for me. The right hour I am able to be yours, in this life, if ever, you have me, So clever, wrapped in maroon silk cocoon, staved away, For you, alone, always unable to love another, steal me from my lover like plunder, come find me on my shores And take what has always been yours.
0
Jun 11, 2017
Jun 11, 2017 at 4:12 AM UTC
The light tower
And your love is like The change of the seasons, A warm sun Its friendly glow Luring the unwary To a security undeserved, A safety feigned In selfish indulgence, The beauty blinding The trusting, Dazzled by the magnificence But I can see The rage of the storm Approaching in the fury Of the angry, grey clouds Bringing the death Of this illusion On swift, merciless wings Taking life from Those who once found Such solace As now that sun Has gone Abandoning the fruitless Hope that is held Devastating as a disease The pure white snow A clever disguise Its true perfection Hideous in its flawless form Lost in translation A mere shade Of what once was Sinking slowly Into desolate despair To place so low It is to be known by no other But rather is to be saved Only for my wretched bitter eyes Staved with mockery And falsities sublime.
0
Oct 11, 2011
Oct 11, 2011 at 10:33 PM UTC
Cambio
Aroma of sweat in the aura of *** Sounds of vibrations mutter a hex Lungs breathe shallow sighs of death As curses are moaned in hollow breaths Give and give, the ***** deeds done Little beads vanish until there're none Quivering smiles held under gasping lung From the sting of whips and praise unsung *Chains and cuffs Dildos and leather stuffs* Inhale in pleasure, Exhale in pain Bruises covered in blissful vain Blood and sweat mixed in Sin Exhaustion staved by a ****** again Red and battered across swollen breast Time to relax and let the Devil do the rest
0
Dec 6, 2011
Dec 6, 2011 at 12:25 PM UTC
Let's Do Things That They'll Name Diseases After
I await a slip of paper Foretelling of my death I await a slip of paper, For I've not received it yet. I've staved my curiosity, Like a tiger in a cage However, eventually Tigers want to eat, To hunt, To be satiated And so does my curiosity. Though morbid, Though vague, I wish to know my end By fire, By age, By disease or by vehicle? Vague enough to open questions, Concrete enough to give me something I want to know How I'll die. The reaper with his crystal ball Stares With no eyes From the faded machine A hand reaching from the coin Slot Reaching to shake mine "Congratulations, you've paid the piper, child." The reaper says, But only in my day dreams I want to know my death, Wow, this takes forever, I've paid the toll, I've done what's necessary! Why is there no paper in my hand! Wait, I hear printing! My heart, is sprinting in my chest! Oh dear heaven above! I get to know my death, God! You can't hide it from me forever! The slip of paper finishes through the machine Printed, it spits out at me. I take it, gingerly, excited all the while To know my death, oh death machine, Will make me smile. I stare at it, giving great diligence To find that I'll die by... Patience
0
Dec 31, 2012
Dec 31, 2012 at 10:36 AM UTC
Death Machine
Solitude. Such an ancient adversary. Our history runs as long as time itself. Once again it has decided to come forth, having been staved off by our once glorious companion. Or perhaps not so glorious. As we peer into the past, the taint and tarnish become clear. The heavenly songs filled with promises were harmonized with clashing shrieks and piercing screams. The sweet basin of affection was poisoned by twisted manipulation and deception. Our courtship with the Fallen One has left us broken, yet functioning. We thought we had triumphed over despair, but the Solitude has begun to tear its way into us. It whispers with blades that sink deeper than our flesh and bone. It declares that it is an inevitability, that no matter our attempts it will not be defeated. We repel its whispers, but only on occasion. Its words slither through our deaf ears, and with each victory, they become harder to silence. Yet there is one who can quell even the mightiest of his attacks. Her gaze alone causes it to fall silent. Her smile loosens his grip on the body's heart. Yet the Solitude is cunning. It knows of the doubts that linger in the mind. It points out the flaws in us. It taunts us with our incompatibility. We cannot deny what it declares. We are aware of our shortcomings. But we cannot ignore the nerves that twist beneath the skin as we look upon her. We cannot dismiss the passion in our heart when we hear her laughter. We cannot overlook the radiance of her very presence, ridding the darkness and sorrow in our mind. Yet the wounds from the Fallen One have yet to heal. We are hesitant to torment ourselves with another lost companion. But we are strong in our resolve. We will combat the Solitude. We shall stand firm against its whispers. We will not break under the weight of our adversary. We will endure this war, for we have the Perfection who watches us, ever vigilant, and infallible.
0
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 2:08 AM UTC
Solitude
Solitude. Such an ancient adversary. Our history runs as long as time itself. Once again it has decided to come forth, having been staved off by our once glorious companion. Or perhaps not so glorious. As we peer into the past, the taint and tarnish become clear. The heavenly songs filled with promises were harmonized with clashing shrieks and piercing screams. The sweet basin of affection was poisoned by twisted manipulation and deception. Our courtship with the Fallen One has left us broken, yet functioning. We thought we had triumphed over despair, but the Solitude has begun to tear its way into us. It whispers with blades that sink deeper than our flesh and bone. It declares that it is an inevitability, that no matter our attempts it will not be defeated. We repel its whispers, but only on occasion. Its words slither through our deaf ears, and with each victory, they become harder to silence. Yet there is one who can quell even the mightiest of his attacks. Her gaze alone causes it to fall silent. Her smile loosens his grip on the body's heart. Yet the Solitude is cunning. It knows of the doubts that linger in the mind. It points out the flaws in us. It taunts us with our incompatibility. We cannot deny what it declares. We are aware of our shortcomings. But we cannot ignore the nerves that twist beneath the skin as we look upon her. We cannot dismiss the passion in our heart when we hear her laughter. We cannot overlook the radiance of her very presence, ridding the darkness and sorrow in our mind. Yet the wounds from the Fallen One have yet to heal. We are hesitant to torment ourselves with another lost companion. But we are strong in our resolve. We will combat the Solitude. We shall stand firm against its whispers. We will not break under the weight of our adversary. We will endure this war, for we have the Perfection who watches us, ever vigilant, and infallible.
Continue reading...
19
The illusion set before, so magnificently made, It is for this very reason, which I have not staved. There are aspects we will never know, some we do not care to witness, In this world of so many lies, truth is more afraid in the darkness. All this smoke fills the land, as we peer into our own mirrors, Attention drawn away, from the problems much nearer. Looming shadows in the blackness, cancel all our dreams, Making maniacal monsters, as they feed of broken esteem. We make our own cage, while whispering about frustration, Bashing head against wall, in a never-ending occupation. The only release from this monotony, two blinks called a weekend, But every day is a battle, the middle of the whole has been weakened. Still we rise every morning, putting on the same boring face, Because it seems no matter how hard we try, it is still the same rat race.
0
Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 5:31 PM UTC
The things you cannot see...
I am walking, alone through dusky sunset streets. I remember the warmth of your smile, the joy of your laughter. I remember your eyes, how they staved off the pain. I remember your blood on my arms, his footsteps like thunder in my ears. I stop in front of an empty house, silent, save for the wind whistling through broken windows, and the grass in the flower pots, waving in the wind. I turn away, the tears in my eyes burn, but they do not fall. Why don't they fall? I walk on, her memory roaring in my ears, a waterfall of grief, and remembered joy. Her eyes were so dim. How could they be so dim, when they were once as stars, shining bright, a beacon, to guide me home, away from my tormenting night? The sun, still shining, hides it's face, beneath sheets of stormy gray. Why is it still shining? I walk alone, numb. I thought, that if I stabbed myself though the heart right now, I wouldn't feel it, and I could just....go. I keep walking, my eyes are dim, the sounds of the sunlit world mean little to me now. I am trapped in a Twilight of grief. Of guilt. Of the terrible pain of a cold bed, and a silent house, where once there was joy and laughter, and an ear to whisper to, my melancholy, and to be able to watch her burn it away, like a candle to a grey air, and to feel her arms about me, a shield, against myself. Now she's gone. I'm....alone. Goodbye. The grey is all about me. It's time to find an end. It's time.
0
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 9:26 AM UTC
It's Time
In early morning, Mist revolving joys, Everything so glorious, The grey fox on the shores, The great blue herons, Light houses of dawn, Arching into heavens, Overlooking all souls, Such colours by the sounds, Lilting in the scores of clover, Of bees notating and staffs, Sway of staved dragonflies, Dropped dew belled in petals And whole world lathed With harmonious light. Across the silvered pond Were deep woods without name, For journeys into wrested sleep And light poured, raining Through the spring leaves, Staining the glass of the sky, Ordaining the stationed hearts, Held by the still deer, who walked On waters, wading into sun, Each night destroyed By freshness and rays, The mottled waking meadows, Green as ever growing, More alive then old legend, O to be a pilgrim with eyes, Opening! To be shy lord in the fortresses Of fallen trees and savour such Piney sense as rooted sassafras, The smells of mosses and leaf, On the shores of the painted Turtles, shaded by lurching trees Mushroomed over shallows, sunning           And hear the foghorned frogs Alerting the dark gleeming, red- Winged blackbirds to their reeds Among the rocks a child Skips, hums upon. So breaking was the boy In the hood of the pond, More alive, golden, than a star, Round that very crested shire, In the berry vines of ripeness, Winding marshes at play, Where blush of wild ducks Endlessly saunter and rooks Dot the airs circling eternal. Now in ages past, After, pond enameled So far away still sings Of childhood to come, For any lost soul who waits, Beyond cries, a warbles lulling, What songbirds might ring, For newborns who break, Into some future paradise, Births of new days dawning, Dominions of the sun.
0
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 3:44 AM UTC
Sunlight on Bolivar Pond
In early morning, Mist revolving joys, Everything so glorious, The grey fox on the shores, The great blue herons, Light houses of dawn, Arching into heavens, Overlooking all souls, Such colours by the sounds, Lilting in the scores of clover, Of bees notating and staffs, Sway of staved dragonflies, Dropped dew belled in petals And whole world lathed With harmonious light. Across the silvered pond Were deep woods without name, For journeys into wrested sleep And light poured, raining Through the spring leaves, Staining the glass of the sky, Ordaining the stationed hearts, Held by the still deer, who walked On waters, wading into sun, Each night destroyed By freshness and rays, The mottled waking meadows, Green as ever growing, More alive then old legend, O to be a pilgrim with eyes, Opening! To be shy lord in the fortresses Of fallen trees and savour such Piney sense as rooted sassafras, The smells of mosses and leaf, On the shores of the painted Turtles, shaded by lurching trees Mushroomed over shallows, sunning           And hear the foghorned frogs Alerting the dark gleeming, red- Winged blackbirds to their reeds Among the rocks a child Skips, hums upon. So breaking was the boy In the hood of the pond, More alive, golden, than a star, Round that very crested shire, In the berry vines of ripeness, Winding marshes at play, Where blush of wild ducks Endlessly saunter and rooks Dot the airs circling eternal. Now in ages past, After, pond enameled So far away still sings Of childhood to come, For any lost soul who waits, Beyond cries, a warbles lulling, What songbirds might ring, For newborns who break, Into some future paradise, Births of new days dawning, Dominions of the sun.
Continue reading...
63
You walk with a cigarette adorning the corner of your mouth What about you inspires me? Your dark glasses that taunt my intelligence My ability to read you staved off annoyingly like throwing a daisy at a brick wall. Unlike me, you pick up your feet when you walk, Refusing the ‘just rolled out of bed shuffle’ You walk with a purposeful air that challenges those who pass you And dares them to gaze at those shades for eyes coupled with bronze hair that shags out from under your snug hat like a fuzzy carpet which needs cleaning. Tendrils of smoke intertwine with said hair, If you were still, they might create together a halo, an aura around your head and add to your not so holy mystery. But you move on Always moving Slipping from the corner of my left eye and sauntering on On to your profound purpose Or perhaps one not so purposeful at all. Maybe you are just strolling to meet another with dark eyes and faded jeans to enjoy a simple white cigarette Which adorns you both so nicely.
0
Jan 3, 2012
Jan 3, 2012 at 1:54 AM UTC
Why Does Everyone Think Cigarettes Are So Profoud
. what would stand out! nothing is left to come back do not wait for fate even if your eyes are staved off on the dark canvas draw a dream life is such broken game . @Musfiq us shaleheen
0
Nov 5, 2017
Nov 5, 2017 at 12:32 PM UTC
broken game
i liked to be closer to death because it made life just a little bit sweeter. sitting on ledges, just for the occasional heart flutter, slight gasp. smoking cigarettes, seeing people walk by with faces of disgust, because your ***** second hand smoke was robbing them of their precious lives, or pity, because i was robbing me of mine. drinking until i feel my insides come back up, harshly, and, without dignity, id bow down. and the weakness in my knees and the precarious state of my stomach. starving myself, feeling the twists and the turns and the pangs of hunger, seeing if i can go longer, seeing if i can eat less, seeing if i can be less. or all the drugs that made me lifeless, limbless, paralyzed for too short of a time. the constant ever approaching, never arriving death, made me more thirsty for every breath, a little happier to see the sun rise, a little happier. and then you befriended me, death. you consumed only smoke. you were sweet and enticing, as you slowly ****** the life out of me. you were toxic. but we built a beautiful castle of darkness. we staved off the light as if it would **** us, and maybe it would have. we made crowns of wilted flowers and sipped sin from the bottle. we'd hold hands and frolic among the valleys of sorrow. we danced with the devil and then you ****** him while you drank my blood. things would blacken and shrivel around us, and i blamed myself. and you blamed me. and the sun never rose on our empire of darkness. i was your prisoner, as you slowly killed me, drained me. death, you are a soulless, selfish, manipulative blackhole of a being. you blamed me for killing you, and that almost killed me. so i ran from you, crying and shaking, life no longer tasted sweet. you spoiled everything. death, you will continue to feed off of the life around you but you cannot live just as much as i cannot **** you.
0
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 1:58 PM UTC
death
i liked to be closer to death because it made life just a little bit sweeter. sitting on ledges, just for the occasional heart flutter, slight gasp. smoking cigarettes, seeing people walk by with faces of disgust, because your ***** second hand smoke was robbing them of their precious lives, or pity, because i was robbing me of mine. drinking until i feel my insides come back up, harshly, and, without dignity, id bow down. and the weakness in my knees and the precarious state of my stomach. starving myself, feeling the twists and the turns and the pangs of hunger, seeing if i can go longer, seeing if i can eat less, seeing if i can be less. or all the drugs that made me lifeless, limbless, paralyzed for too short of a time. the constant ever approaching, never arriving death, made me more thirsty for every breath, a little happier to see the sun rise, a little happier. and then you befriended me, death. you consumed only smoke. you were sweet and enticing, as you slowly ****** the life out of me. you were toxic. but we built a beautiful castle of darkness. we staved off the light as if it would **** us, and maybe it would have. we made crowns of wilted flowers and sipped sin from the bottle. we'd hold hands and frolic among the valleys of sorrow. we danced with the devil and then you ****** him while you drank my blood. things would blacken and shrivel around us, and i blamed myself. and you blamed me. and the sun never rose on our empire of darkness. i was your prisoner, as you slowly killed me, drained me. death, you are a soulless, selfish, manipulative blackhole of a being. you blamed me for killing you, and that almost killed me. so i ran from you, crying and shaking, life no longer tasted sweet. you spoiled everything. death, you will continue to feed off of the life around you but you cannot live just as much as i cannot **** you.
Continue reading...
21
You’re too nervous around me He said Though it shouldn’t matter much really Just a personality trait And true at that Maybe it was just fate But honestly What did he expect? Ignored me half the time Distanced himself Made me feel unwanted    -Unloved It shouldn’t really matter, truly Silly child-like beliefs In love But it was just that, It was heaven Till paranoia crept in Like the monster from under my bed Depression seeped in with nightmares With every blank glance and words unsaid I tried being there, I tried pulling away I tried what I could bear Day after day Watching my own tragedy Break at the seems The cracks poured in and drowned my depths        -Shattered beyond belief Because of my inability to work socially Too awkward to talk Too shy Terrified of saying the wrong things So alone in my own mind Is there anything I can say? Anyway that it’s untrue My anxiety came off as nerves Mostly around you Cause with you it mattered most Someone for whom I cared But you’re right it’s my fault I couldn’t love enough to stop being scared So I’ll watch from the backseat As the movies go on The confidant chick gets the guy Or he fixes the insecure one But nothing goes wrong here Not like it does in reality Guess I’m just trying to justify his excuse and its finality Too nervous around me Oh, really. But the truths I could already see I knew, how I knew, and knew all along He’d never truly wanted me So I laugh at the comments I bit back Bleeding lips from words too tongue In cheek I thank you;      Graceful bow For helping me along For ripping away the stem of nervosa You’d brought flowing with you since the first day For the harsh remarks -a slap to even those ***** stark And the steel that I grew as I say It was you You who didn’t care enough to help Who could not see the panic and fear I battled to try and stabilize myself For you To make us happy Yes I had problems of my own But I was there for you And what did you do? Nothing but leave me alone Saying the cause was all me My anxiety My nervosa had won? You know how insulting that can become? I staved off the dragon in the mirror To keep safe the tower climbing prince But in truth I know now Princes don’t exist I was really my own companion Fighting my own weakness’ With my own strengths And now I know my own reason Has to forever be only myself.
0
Oct 31, 2015
Oct 31, 2015 at 12:52 PM UTC
Nervosa.
You’re too nervous around me He said Though it shouldn’t matter much really Just a personality trait And true at that Maybe it was just fate But honestly What did he expect? Ignored me half the time Distanced himself Made me feel unwanted    -Unloved It shouldn’t really matter, truly Silly child-like beliefs In love But it was just that, It was heaven Till paranoia crept in Like the monster from under my bed Depression seeped in with nightmares With every blank glance and words unsaid I tried being there, I tried pulling away I tried what I could bear Day after day Watching my own tragedy Break at the seems The cracks poured in and drowned my depths        -Shattered beyond belief Because of my inability to work socially Too awkward to talk Too shy Terrified of saying the wrong things So alone in my own mind Is there anything I can say? Anyway that it’s untrue My anxiety came off as nerves Mostly around you Cause with you it mattered most Someone for whom I cared But you’re right it’s my fault I couldn’t love enough to stop being scared So I’ll watch from the backseat As the movies go on The confidant chick gets the guy Or he fixes the insecure one But nothing goes wrong here Not like it does in reality Guess I’m just trying to justify his excuse and its finality Too nervous around me Oh, really. But the truths I could already see I knew, how I knew, and knew all along He’d never truly wanted me So I laugh at the comments I bit back Bleeding lips from words too tongue In cheek I thank you;      Graceful bow For helping me along For ripping away the stem of nervosa You’d brought flowing with you since the first day For the harsh remarks -a slap to even those ***** stark And the steel that I grew as I say It was you You who didn’t care enough to help Who could not see the panic and fear I battled to try and stabilize myself For you To make us happy Yes I had problems of my own But I was there for you And what did you do? Nothing but leave me alone Saying the cause was all me My anxiety My nervosa had won? You know how insulting that can become? I staved off the dragon in the mirror To keep safe the tower climbing prince But in truth I know now Princes don’t exist I was really my own companion Fighting my own weakness’ With my own strengths And now I know my own reason Has to forever be only myself.
Continue reading...
86
. In early morning, Mist revolving joys, Everything so glorious, The grey fox on the shores, The great blue herons, Light houses of dawn, Arching into heavens, Overlooking all souls, Such colours by the sounds, Lilting in the scores of clover, Of bees notating and staffs, Sway of staved dragonflies, Dropped dew belled in petals And whole world lathed With harmonious light. Across the silvered pond Were deep woods without name, For journeys into wrested sleep And light poured, raining Through the spring leaves, Staining the glass of the sky, Ordaining the stationed hearts, Held by the still deer, who walked On waters, wading into sun, Each night destroyed By freshness and rays, The mottled waking meadows, Green as ever growing, More alive then old legend, O to be a pilgrim with eyes, Opening! To be shy lord in the fortresses Of fallen trees and savour such Piney sense as rooted sassafras, The smells of mosses and leaf, On the shores of the painted Turtles, shaded by lurching trees Mushroomed over shallows, sunning And hear the foghorned frogs Alerting the dark gleeming, red- Winged blackbirds to their reeds Among the rocks a child Skips, hums upon. So breaking was the boy In the hood of the pond, More alive, golden, than a star, Round that very crested shire, In the berry vines of ripeness, Winding marshes at play, Where blush of wild ducks Endlessly saunter and rooks Dot the airs circling eternal. Now in ages past, After, pond enameled So far away still sings Of childhood to come, For any lost soul who waits, Beyond cries, a warbles lulling, What songbirds might ring, For newborns who break, Ashed in sands of the quick, Into some future paradise, Births of new days dawning, Rung through, dominions of the sun.
0
Sep 26, 2017
Sep 26, 2017 at 4:32 AM UTC
Sunlight on Bolivar Pond
. In early morning, Mist revolving joys, Everything so glorious, The grey fox on the shores, The great blue herons, Light houses of dawn, Arching into heavens, Overlooking all souls, Such colours by the sounds, Lilting in the scores of clover, Of bees notating and staffs, Sway of staved dragonflies, Dropped dew belled in petals And whole world lathed With harmonious light. Across the silvered pond Were deep woods without name, For journeys into wrested sleep And light poured, raining Through the spring leaves, Staining the glass of the sky, Ordaining the stationed hearts, Held by the still deer, who walked On waters, wading into sun, Each night destroyed By freshness and rays, The mottled waking meadows, Green as ever growing, More alive then old legend, O to be a pilgrim with eyes, Opening! To be shy lord in the fortresses Of fallen trees and savour such Piney sense as rooted sassafras, The smells of mosses and leaf, On the shores of the painted Turtles, shaded by lurching trees Mushroomed over shallows, sunning And hear the foghorned frogs Alerting the dark gleeming, red- Winged blackbirds to their reeds Among the rocks a child Skips, hums upon. So breaking was the boy In the hood of the pond, More alive, golden, than a star, Round that very crested shire, In the berry vines of ripeness, Winding marshes at play, Where blush of wild ducks Endlessly saunter and rooks Dot the airs circling eternal. Now in ages past, After, pond enameled So far away still sings Of childhood to come, For any lost soul who waits, Beyond cries, a warbles lulling, What songbirds might ring, For newborns who break, Ashed in sands of the quick, Into some future paradise, Births of new days dawning, Rung through, dominions of the sun.
Continue reading...
65
Man is not grass nor tree Who among can be heartless The **** with a heart of gold The monster with a soft touch The beast with his beauty Sentiment is like a **** It can never be rooted out Staved off maybe Eliminated for a time But in the edge of the garden It grows once again
0
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 9:54 PM UTC
Sentiment
Love is just a four letter word to me now. It has become a stranger in the streets that passed me by. Love passed me in the hallways without even speaking a word. I let Love pass me by everyday I saw Love. See Love hurt me. Love crashed my hopes of ever feeling a beat inside my empty chest without thinking that its a lie. I got hurt. But Love kept me warm at night. Love took my nightmares away. Love took the sting from the pain. It gave me affection when Love hurt me. Told me everything was going to be okay. Love is now a ever fading memory to me now that I only remember from the photos in my scrapbook. Love came when Love wanted. Love left when Love wanted to leave. Love left me with holes the size of craters in my heart. Love was toxic. It killed and calmed me at the same time. But I remember what Love did to me. Love hurt me in ways that normal people couldn't. Love shattered what was left in my head that told me that "Maybe people stay." I found myself hurting worst than I ever have even from the worst wars I have fought. Love made me think I was finally beautiful. But the day Love decided to leave was the day I filled the hole in my chest with pure destruction. I staved and bled when I felt the hole begin to drag me down. Little did I know that the hole was just the grave I was digging for myself. The day Love left, I decided to try that grave on for size.......
0
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 4:08 PM UTC
Four letter word.
So many things that these hands have made a faded page for which they paid jaded pain and a heart so splayed these hands have made a past that stayed they are capable of making disdain and hate staying shaky for their aiming fate stained by debating ways as of late these hands are making a day that can't wait grass blades whistle and the winds do rave the fires rage and can't be staved there's no way you can be saved these hands were made to dig your grave
0
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 3:31 PM UTC
these hands
Where paths cross people meet some stay over for a while others disappear completely some staved the cane the rear view mirror was never a path to their aim.
0
Sep 29, 2023
Sep 29, 2023 at 4:21 PM UTC
Sign-posts of life.