Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"steadfastly" poems
this door exists, stately and staunchly it stands, disheartening and terrifying it remains. the door is unlocked, yet cannot be opened, for in it, a path in time... one decision that can affect everything [such as my choice to wear the necklace you adore, which lead to you noticing me for the very first time, or my idea to play you the song that you fell in love with, which i can no longer listen to] ...for in this door, one path is intimidatingly located. every bone in my body, every last muscle, tendon, ligament each artery, each vein, each capillary every single nerve, even each microscopic cell, implores me not to open this tempting door... [it is almost as if my hand refuses to grasp the handle, to unleash the unknown upon me, the colossal chain of events that would ensue] the immensity of the unfamiliar, the unexplored, tends to perturb me. change is unnerving and is almost as chilling as an abandoned graveyard at midnight. but i bring my mind back to the door, yes! this preposterous door that i have contrived for myself. why is the **** so easily turned? why does it not put up somewhat of a fight, at least jolt me suddenly, as to frighten my curious heart? it is a constant battle between my body my mind and my heart as to which doors to open and which ones to leave ever so steadfastly closed. but never once has there been such a struggle for them to reach an understanding. somehow my heart, [even though a fraction of me, a fist, dripping in blood] is prevailing for the moment. my heart reaches for the handle, attempts to unclose the door... yet, with the best of its ability, withstanding my strong-willed and obstinate heart, my powerful body and commanding mind overcome this hostile takeover, and the door remains shut. it is my body, my skillful mouth, my soft, rose lips, my elegant tongue, and my vocal chords... all of these pieces must contrive the words, conceive the change, which will unveil the path that will forever alter us... slowly, opening the door. being as in love with you as i am, i will not let you slip away from my arms right now. but when we are not together [*i wish you’d have been there, i needed you there*] i stare at this humbling door. if i wait too long, i’ll forever lose you; for it is you who will make this choice for me, opening your own door, fearless and dauntless.
0
Nov 11, 2012
Nov 11, 2012 at 2:40 AM UTC
The Door
this door exists, stately and staunchly it stands, disheartening and terrifying it remains. the door is unlocked, yet cannot be opened, for in it, a path in time... one decision that can affect everything [such as my choice to wear the necklace you adore, which lead to you noticing me for the very first time, or my idea to play you the song that you fell in love with, which i can no longer listen to] ...for in this door, one path is intimidatingly located. every bone in my body, every last muscle, tendon, ligament each artery, each vein, each capillary every single nerve, even each microscopic cell, implores me not to open this tempting door... [it is almost as if my hand refuses to grasp the handle, to unleash the unknown upon me, the colossal chain of events that would ensue] the immensity of the unfamiliar, the unexplored, tends to perturb me. change is unnerving and is almost as chilling as an abandoned graveyard at midnight. but i bring my mind back to the door, yes! this preposterous door that i have contrived for myself. why is the **** so easily turned? why does it not put up somewhat of a fight, at least jolt me suddenly, as to frighten my curious heart? it is a constant battle between my body my mind and my heart as to which doors to open and which ones to leave ever so steadfastly closed. but never once has there been such a struggle for them to reach an understanding. somehow my heart, [even though a fraction of me, a fist, dripping in blood] is prevailing for the moment. my heart reaches for the handle, attempts to unclose the door... yet, with the best of its ability, withstanding my strong-willed and obstinate heart, my powerful body and commanding mind overcome this hostile takeover, and the door remains shut. it is my body, my skillful mouth, my soft, rose lips, my elegant tongue, and my vocal chords... all of these pieces must contrive the words, conceive the change, which will unveil the path that will forever alter us... slowly, opening the door. being as in love with you as i am, i will not let you slip away from my arms right now. but when we are not together [*i wish you’d have been there, i needed you there*] i stare at this humbling door. if i wait too long, i’ll forever lose you; for it is you who will make this choice for me, opening your own door, fearless and dauntless.
Continue reading...
71
I am the Lorax, who once spoke for the trees In the hope of bringing progress to its knees But now I have grown somewhat older and tired, My outlook and thought process being rewired (Sometimes to see forest, you must clear the trees.) Examine the case of the Brown Bar-ba-loots Whose interests for so long I worked in cahoots. Could such timid beasts truly thrive in the wild So innocent, trusting, submissive, and mild? (My former assertions I strongly refute.) Why, see how they frolic and scamper in zoos; How can one watch them and steadfastly refuse To see how much better their lot is today As joy for our children as opposed to prey (A happy condition where no one can lose.) Ah, scoff the nihilists, *but Truffula Trees, Those havens for birds and those homes for the bees. Why, what do you say now that they are all gone, Removed to make way for some suburban lawn?* (These angry young men—O Lord, take them all please!) I gently remind them it’s just nature’s way, That some species go while other ones stay, The carrier pigeon’s no longer alive Yet somehow we manage to live—indeed, thrive! (In the face of brute logic, they’ve little to say.) So don’t be dismayed or frightened or leery Of doomsday projections outlined by theory Suggesting that our time on this earth may be done; Consider the caged Bar-ba-loot having fun (And we hear fish do quite well in Lake Erie.)
0
Jan 3, 2017
Jan 3, 2017 at 2:33 PM UTC
The Lorax Reconsiders
I sit on this island                                                                                                            I sit on this boat              ill-equipped                                                                                                        ill-equipped          How I got here?                                                                                                    How I got here?              well... by ship                                                                                                  island trip...                     I simply stare out                                                                                             I gaze upon the                    upon the sea                                                                                          empty sea              No ounce of hope                                                                                       All out of faith                          left for me                                                                                    inside of me                              I think of times                                                                               I recall the time                    away from land                                                                            earth so grand                         My tears drop                                                                        Sobbing quietly                          splash on sand                                                                     into my hand                                 Huh? What's that!?                                                            Wait! Is it true!?                                            could it be?                                            more than sea?                                  Swimming, swimming                           Rowing, rowing                                                                 hurriedly            steadfastly                                                                                                                   SHIP!  LAND!                                                                                I'm free!                                                                                     ...
0
Dec 22, 2012
Dec 22, 2012 at 7:47 PM UTC
Island~
I sit on this island                                                                                                            I sit on this boat              ill-equipped                                                                                                        ill-equipped          How I got here?                                                                                                    How I got here?              well... by ship                                                                                                  island trip...                     I simply stare out                                                                                             I gaze upon the                    upon the sea                                                                                          empty sea              No ounce of hope                                                                                       All out of faith                          left for me                                                                                    inside of me                              I think of times                                                                               I recall the time                    away from land                                                                            earth so grand                         My tears drop                                                                        Sobbing quietly                          splash on sand                                                                     into my hand                                 Huh? What's that!?                                                            Wait! Is it true!?                                            could it be?                                            more than sea?                                  Swimming, swimming                           Rowing, rowing                                                                 hurriedly            steadfastly                                                                                                                   SHIP!  LAND!                                                                                I'm free!                                                                                     ...
Continue reading...
19
"See! warp is stretched For warriors' fall, Lo! weft in loom 'Tis wet with blood; Now fight foreboding, 'Neath friends' swift fingers, Our grey woof waxeth With war's alarms, Our warp bloodred, Our weft corseblue. "This woof is y-woven With entrails of men, This warp is hardweighted With heads of the slain, Spears blood-besprinkled For spindles we use, Our loom ironbound, And arrows our reels; With swords for our shuttles This war-woof we work; So weave we, weird sisters, Our warwinning woof. "Now Warwinner walketh To weave in her turn, Now Swordswinger steppeth, Now Swiftstroke, now Storm; When they speed the shuttle How spearheads shall flash! Shields crash, and helmgnawer On harness bite hard! "Wind we, wind swiftly Our warwinning woof Woof erst for king youthful Foredoomed as his own, Forth now we will ride, Then through the ranks rushing Be busy where friends Blows blithe give and take. "Wind we, wind swiftly Our warwinning woof, After that let us steadfastly Stand by the brave king; Then men shall mark mournful Their shields red with gore, How Swordstroke and Spearthrust Stood stout by the prince. "Wind we, wind swiftly Our warwinning woof. When sword-bearing rovers To banners rush on, Mind, maidens, we spare not One life in the fray! We corse-choosing sisters Have charge of the slain. "Now new-coming nations That island shall rule, Who on outlying headlands Abode ere the fight; I say that King mighty To death now is done, Now low before spearpoint That Earl bows his head. "Soon over all Ersemen Sharp sorrow shall fall, That woe to those warriors Shall wane nevermore; Our woof now is woven. Now battlefield waste, O'er land and o'er water War tidings shall leap. "Now surely 'tis gruesome To gaze all around. When bloodred through heaven Drives cloudrack o'er head; Air soon shall be deep hued With dying men's blood When this our spaedom Comes speedy to pass. "So cheerily chant we Charms for the young king, Come maidens lift loudly His warwinning lay; Let him who now listens Learn well with his ears And gladden brave swordsmen With bursts of war's song. "Now mount we our horses, Now bare we our brands, Now haste we hard, maidens, Hence far, far, away."
0
Apr 26, 2010
Apr 26, 2010 at 10:58 AM UTC
Battle song for Valkyries
"See! warp is stretched For warriors' fall, Lo! weft in loom 'Tis wet with blood; Now fight foreboding, 'Neath friends' swift fingers, Our grey woof waxeth With war's alarms, Our warp bloodred, Our weft corseblue. "This woof is y-woven With entrails of men, This warp is hardweighted With heads of the slain, Spears blood-besprinkled For spindles we use, Our loom ironbound, And arrows our reels; With swords for our shuttles This war-woof we work; So weave we, weird sisters, Our warwinning woof. "Now Warwinner walketh To weave in her turn, Now Swordswinger steppeth, Now Swiftstroke, now Storm; When they speed the shuttle How spearheads shall flash! Shields crash, and helmgnawer On harness bite hard! "Wind we, wind swiftly Our warwinning woof Woof erst for king youthful Foredoomed as his own, Forth now we will ride, Then through the ranks rushing Be busy where friends Blows blithe give and take. "Wind we, wind swiftly Our warwinning woof, After that let us steadfastly Stand by the brave king; Then men shall mark mournful Their shields red with gore, How Swordstroke and Spearthrust Stood stout by the prince. "Wind we, wind swiftly Our warwinning woof. When sword-bearing rovers To banners rush on, Mind, maidens, we spare not One life in the fray! We corse-choosing sisters Have charge of the slain. "Now new-coming nations That island shall rule, Who on outlying headlands Abode ere the fight; I say that King mighty To death now is done, Now low before spearpoint That Earl bows his head. "Soon over all Ersemen Sharp sorrow shall fall, That woe to those warriors Shall wane nevermore; Our woof now is woven. Now battlefield waste, O'er land and o'er water War tidings shall leap. "Now surely 'tis gruesome To gaze all around. When bloodred through heaven Drives cloudrack o'er head; Air soon shall be deep hued With dying men's blood When this our spaedom Comes speedy to pass. "So cheerily chant we Charms for the young king, Come maidens lift loudly His warwinning lay; Let him who now listens Learn well with his ears And gladden brave swordsmen With bursts of war's song. "Now mount we our horses, Now bare we our brands, Now haste we hard, maidens, Hence far, far, away."
Continue reading...
90
You still are my blue jay of yore, the songbird on the low branch of the evergreen tree under which I pitched my tent till my thirst was quenched by your arias in blissful altisima poured in to my soul. Your songs steadfastly refuse to go down with time like leaves that wither and fall those immortal moments, you gifted did flow in to the blue ocean of time where i float, refusing to  be beaten down by waves. Those notes by sheer power of infused spirit of your heart, make me still buoyant, I am indebted, your song book,  in gold is engraved,  in my heart. One journey continues, unmindful of every change, through planes of timeless nature where we are one defying rules man made, and imposed by mind. We are two pure notes of music that fly, up and above merge with the sonorous primordial hum of divine.
0
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 8:47 PM UTC
The songbook of the blue jay
Reconstruction To be free of this insufferable pain I tolerate, Such aches and pains I can't even rate. I grind my teeth as I **** it up and tolerate, Is this to always be my sad lonely fate? The world has dealt me a sad hand, My Psyche lost in the wind as grains of sand. Wounded inside I bleed unseen by eyes, I cry out to those foreboding dark skies. This aesthetic world sees not my sorrow, Must I always smile even as I fear tomorrow. Should I not face my calamities boldly? Stand for what I firmly believe steadfastly. Let my convictions be my salve, Allow pent up emotions a release valve. Fill my being with new love so beautiful, Rebuild a connection that is decidedly wonderful. ©Perveiz Ali
0
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 9:13 AM UTC
Reconstruction
When people accuse me of being abnormal because I think for myself, I steadfastly continue to think for myself as I am aware that thinking for myself is the only way that a unique me in my unique situation can achieve my own unique joy and happiness.
0
Aug 1, 2019
Aug 1, 2019 at 7:19 PM UTC
Thinking for Myself?
Where the stars turn to rust, I hit it right and it made me wild with thought that before we know where we are It will be Spring and She will enter I did not enjoy seeing you the other day and I wear your necklace as a reminder of sweet things and of your seduction my heart regards me, steadfastly with tiny, bright eyes, and ultimately retreats rejoicing in the strength of ten thousand archers golden arrows fly so numerous they blot out the sun Stange shadows come alive and when shall I play for you the music of the April rain?
0
Jan 18, 2022
Jan 18, 2022 at 1:04 PM UTC
PERSEPHONE
Above our heads exists a vast ether of ideas and we’re lucky enough to feel the rain from time to time. These drops manifest in our music, our words, our dance. So don’t curse the weather man with the tacky yellow rain jacket. Rejoice in the coming deluge and cup your hands to receive this communal water Open your eyes so these enlightened raindrops may find their way through to our souls so steadfastly guarded against heavenly intervention.
0
Dec 21, 2012
Dec 21, 2012 at 1:58 PM UTC
Something in the Weather
Bad poetry makes me ugly: Look, each line, a cliche Each blemish, a simile; My smile grows more bitingly smug With each overzealous superlative. My raccoon eyes are ringed By metaphorical self delusions, Badly performing alliteration- All improvisations of incompetence; And then the clash of symbol, deranges all thought. Choose only the wound that is in your heart That you would earnestly enlarge upon, Steadfastly ignoring all the others.
0
Jul 8, 2010
Jul 8, 2010 at 10:52 AM UTC
Bad Poetry Makes Me Ugly
Dedicated to the Hard Hats, ..for holding it all together. **** frost on the green grass There's a cold moon in the sky The estuary waters black and calm Where golden ripples lie. Dawn's horizon lightens up Bright stars begin to dim Hard Hats all arrive for work And with frozen breath...log in. Work boots crunching on the stone The men disperse to trucks, The diesel motors roar to life Their departures forming rucks. Swarming in the morning light Each to his own job's task, Bridge building work underway As dawn's first sunbeams bask. Amazing the complexity That building bridges has, Amazing how voraciously It eats up time and gas. The planning and design work The funding of supply, Those organizational matters And the labour standing bye. Digging, lifting, shoving, shifting Moving this to there, A logistical nightmare For the novice, unaware. Steel and timber by the ton Concrete pours en mass, Gravel, sand and aggregate And reservoirs of gas. Procurement of supply ensures A smooth transitional flow Of successive small procedures To make the project mesh and grow. Day after day the massive trucks Carting tons of sand Are authorized by gate men To unload on to land Where motorway construction Is steadfastly taking place And progressing at A gradual and steady building pace. From concept to completion A million multitasks, Which involves a caste of thousands And a schedule which asks, That the finished installation Be completed by the time Of the Rugby World Cup kickoff, Our global status on the line. Like ants the Hard Hats swarm about Each does his little bit And gradually, over time, The bridge emerges from the pit. It emergeth like a phoenix In a drab and sombre gown But on completion, shines like fire To be the nation's most re known. The Manukau Harbour Crossing A project for the Gods, Of massive lengths of concrete And miles of reinforcing rods. Of an eternity of effort From everyone involved And an asset for New Zealand And a beauty to behold. Marshalg @theGate MHX Mangere Bridge 14th March 2009 Please view the following link http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VzQZ-M90Zig
0
Nov 14, 2009
Nov 14, 2009 at 1:07 PM UTC
M.H.X. Emergeth
Dedicated to the Hard Hats, ..for holding it all together. **** frost on the green grass There's a cold moon in the sky The estuary waters black and calm Where golden ripples lie. Dawn's horizon lightens up Bright stars begin to dim Hard Hats all arrive for work And with frozen breath...log in. Work boots crunching on the stone The men disperse to trucks, The diesel motors roar to life Their departures forming rucks. Swarming in the morning light Each to his own job's task, Bridge building work underway As dawn's first sunbeams bask. Amazing the complexity That building bridges has, Amazing how voraciously It eats up time and gas. The planning and design work The funding of supply, Those organizational matters And the labour standing bye. Digging, lifting, shoving, shifting Moving this to there, A logistical nightmare For the novice, unaware. Steel and timber by the ton Concrete pours en mass, Gravel, sand and aggregate And reservoirs of gas. Procurement of supply ensures A smooth transitional flow Of successive small procedures To make the project mesh and grow. Day after day the massive trucks Carting tons of sand Are authorized by gate men To unload on to land Where motorway construction Is steadfastly taking place And progressing at A gradual and steady building pace. From concept to completion A million multitasks, Which involves a caste of thousands And a schedule which asks, That the finished installation Be completed by the time Of the Rugby World Cup kickoff, Our global status on the line. Like ants the Hard Hats swarm about Each does his little bit And gradually, over time, The bridge emerges from the pit. It emergeth like a phoenix In a drab and sombre gown But on completion, shines like fire To be the nation's most re known. The Manukau Harbour Crossing A project for the Gods, Of massive lengths of concrete And miles of reinforcing rods. Of an eternity of effort From everyone involved And an asset for New Zealand And a beauty to behold. Marshalg @theGate MHX Mangere Bridge 14th March 2009 Please view the following link http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VzQZ-M90Zig
Continue reading...
76
Holding out hope Like a hand reaching through time Holding space Providing the arrows that pierce my heart Thinking of you Longing for you Vacillating Unable to ever truly close the door on our connection I guess I did it to myself Giving love to someone who never deserved me Trusting what I felt instead of what I saw Allowing you to occupy the space without ever filling it Choosing to respect what felt stronger than anything I’ve ever known I guess I did it to myself Fooling Blinding Reaching You left the room Without so much as an "I’m grateful that you’re here" Without so much as an "I love you too" Without so much as a thread of hope I guess I did it to myself Provided the bow and quiver Placed it steadfastly and aimed it straight for the heart I guess I did it to myself, opened myself up for disappointment You left the conversation without so much as a "Seeing you sent my heart soaring and my mind racing" All of the timelines between us collapsed and there we were face to face She standing in her truth and he still stuck in a lie Fearful that if his heart ever stood for itself, the facade would crumble and shatter at his feet And he would find himself naked with only one truth they know: love I guess I did it to myself, allowing love to pass through me for you Living in parallel universes with you Because you asked me to I guess I did it to myself, showing up in the now and wanting you to hold me the way I hold you I’m exhausted Saddened by you and for what could be I kick boulders not rocks Boulders Boulders Boulders Boulders into pebbles until I find peace with you and skip trace them across the frequencies until they lay at your feet, constant reminders of the path you choose between us Pebbles of love, sun, wine, hammocks, song, black and white, solitude together, heartbreak, silence, grey check marks, music, promises unkept, Irish goodbyes and outright lies I will find peace with you in the love of another man’s arms until there is no peace because he is not you Why did we ever have to meet? What wrong thing in my existence did I ever do to deserve you? I guess I did it to myself, believing in you, in love, in siempre Pierced with the fiercest of arrows I kick boulders not rocks Boulders Boulders Boulders Boulders into pebbles until I find peace with you and skip trace them across the frequencies until they lay at your feet, constant reminders of the path you choose between us I’m sick of seeing the green guy, something needs to change. Show me love.
0
Oct 30, 2023
Oct 30, 2023 at 9:43 AM UTC
I guess I did it to myself
Holding out hope Like a hand reaching through time Holding space Providing the arrows that pierce my heart Thinking of you Longing for you Vacillating Unable to ever truly close the door on our connection I guess I did it to myself Giving love to someone who never deserved me Trusting what I felt instead of what I saw Allowing you to occupy the space without ever filling it Choosing to respect what felt stronger than anything I’ve ever known I guess I did it to myself Fooling Blinding Reaching You left the room Without so much as an "I’m grateful that you’re here" Without so much as an "I love you too" Without so much as a thread of hope I guess I did it to myself Provided the bow and quiver Placed it steadfastly and aimed it straight for the heart I guess I did it to myself, opened myself up for disappointment You left the conversation without so much as a "Seeing you sent my heart soaring and my mind racing" All of the timelines between us collapsed and there we were face to face She standing in her truth and he still stuck in a lie Fearful that if his heart ever stood for itself, the facade would crumble and shatter at his feet And he would find himself naked with only one truth they know: love I guess I did it to myself, allowing love to pass through me for you Living in parallel universes with you Because you asked me to I guess I did it to myself, showing up in the now and wanting you to hold me the way I hold you I’m exhausted Saddened by you and for what could be I kick boulders not rocks Boulders Boulders Boulders Boulders into pebbles until I find peace with you and skip trace them across the frequencies until they lay at your feet, constant reminders of the path you choose between us Pebbles of love, sun, wine, hammocks, song, black and white, solitude together, heartbreak, silence, grey check marks, music, promises unkept, Irish goodbyes and outright lies I will find peace with you in the love of another man’s arms until there is no peace because he is not you Why did we ever have to meet? What wrong thing in my existence did I ever do to deserve you? I guess I did it to myself, believing in you, in love, in siempre Pierced with the fiercest of arrows I kick boulders not rocks Boulders Boulders Boulders Boulders into pebbles until I find peace with you and skip trace them across the frequencies until they lay at your feet, constant reminders of the path you choose between us I’m sick of seeing the green guy, something needs to change. Show me love.
Continue reading...
53
*Dreams, can indeed take you to the Very shores of unbridled ecstasy. Then entice you to plunge head first, steadfastly Into the expansive desirable oceans of grandeur and splendor Or better yet they can cause oneself to get acquainted With the harsh realities of despondency   And the cold slimy realities of horror Either way they marvels of mental creation Am happily willingly inclined to prefer The latter.*
0
Aug 13, 2013
Aug 13, 2013 at 4:05 AM UTC
Moonstruck.
If there is any that think they can go beyond my despair then let them try, Ever since that day, I have lived a lie, the lie of living. It wasn't me who was wrong, it was the world the same one that is now in great peril What do you do when there is an evil you cannot defeat? Win by any means Do you stain your hands with evil to destroy evil? Do you survive by killing the weak and feeble? Or do you remain steadfastly just and righteous, pretending evil is the rightist. If strength is justice, then is powerlessness a crime? I have signed a contract with a devil, To defeat evil, I must become a greater evil You can't change the world without getting your hands ***** Perhaps this is what I have always wished for since that day. The loss and destruction of all. That's right, one must destroy before creating. In that case, if my conscience becomes a hindrance to me, then I will simply erase it. I have no other choice but to move forward. This here is the foreword.
0
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 4:37 PM UTC
Ode To Lelouch
only yesterday i met him right? or was it several centuries ago? i reckon this is what forever feels like swirling as we breathe let's just stay amazed and believe this is life how it's meant to be steadfastly lapsing with love
0
Mar 10, 2018
Mar 10, 2018 at 11:26 PM UTC
mi corazòn
...Portend for the life of you--cast your eyes as far from you, as what you could not see coming otherwise. A living through and through...of what came first--word or sound, sound or word? These spaces...spendthrift pages that are but doorways to their impending figure, wind coiling at its corners...coiling at its corners. As a thing grows into itself invisibly... as so you fall the falling curtain--with no audience at one side, nor actors upon the other. Irrevocably you are, that you are--sun halved, golden bowls burning--of good and evil--a miscellany saint's evocation...that you are, irrevocably you are...amaranthine. Gesticulating beyond time, times, and half time...a procession of one whose sojourn repeats upon itself. A heaven ago...hell now...a hell ago-- heaven now, change knows all your names-- and because you withstood all it can ever be, it holds them steadfastly. Amaranthine...irrevocably you are...that you are. You, the faces of disambiguation--whose seal you smile to open...with full marks for bravery.
0
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 10:55 AM UTC
Amaranthine
Hell broke loose and a wolf sunk it's teeth deep into my calf I staggered away but the wolf, steadfastly became part of my body -an extremity the pain of the bite subsided and the wolf, as I became wild and animalistic, became civilized he loosened his grip and we parted
0
Sep 12, 2010
Sep 12, 2010 at 5:06 PM UTC
the wolf
Manifold Blessing There is a reason wife rhymes with life In her eyes I find the depths I must ever mine Hearts of gold not made in any other way The vain derived by expending softest feelings this all aligns Molten gold flows into the mold only when honest truth fires singular hopes For no other exceeds or matches this sacred bond that love has forged In pressure I gladly steadfastly March this alone breaks my nature of stone To another coupled selfless paths give rise to adornments uncommon Her hand her voice most gentle but by it alone many storms unerring guide held the course The day holds only empty clouds if she is absent the sun shines in vain all is tied together by her smile She knows secrets that keep us safe in their power we run with never ending force all troubles are dispersed Holy writ speaks to this matter when it says a man finds a good thing when he takes a wife From these priceless cherished gifts all the earth is replenished no other way is it made whole He who would hold her in small esteem troubles his own life and condemns himself to poverty
0
Jan 10, 2012
Jan 10, 2012 at 1:16 PM UTC
Manifold Blessing
There are marks on my skin Where my pen ink has been Crimson ink seeping through Phrases and words Listed and unheard Echoing with scarlet hue. The pen in my hand cannot understand The words that scar my heart It is always writing, continuously fighting But steadfastly tearing me apart. Black ink turned red, words of joy and dread All sorrows and happiness of today Place your name on my bones You'll never be alone And an immortality you'll stay. Don't mind the crimson ink Pouring down the sink Protesting of my need. I write for poetry It writes me an eternity And it is the only ink I bleed.
0
May 9, 2013
May 9, 2013 at 8:07 PM UTC
Crimson Ink
THOSE WHO WERE CROWNED, YET THEY NEVER KNEW Ayad Gharbawi When so many die You feel When so many perish in pain vivid yet distant You cry When so many noble and smiling suffocate helplessly You think So many, years and years, of memories within your heart Those who were crowned, yet they never knew Those who were praised by all virtue’s gods, yet they never heard I listen to myself, here as I stand The times that question me so steadfastly Who do you turn to, then, in such hours wearying Who will understand your comradeship The animals know full well Man’s nature and they turn away Tell me then, whoever you may be – how will stillness icy turn to laughter Do not weep, bird Feathered beauty of innocence fair and freedom just Do not weep for your heart, though many question you Though the many wish to **** you Others, may, stand by you Justice may embrace you, shelter you and free you to the skies above When I am asked, why this method of existence I reply, because, somehow, the future shall reap rewards brighter Somehow, the future shall crown my trials Somehow, the future shall embrace me with serenity Somehow, the future shall surround me with six daughters Thus, alone I stand now; Tomorrow may yet offer me the essence of humans warm and sincere The minds that are closed The poverty-stricken who blame themselves The poverty-stricken who are endlessly ashamed of themselves What, then, do you speak unto such souls weary and tired How, then, do you lift their burdens unfair How do you tell them that it is they who are just in claiming what is theirs And what, then, is their ‘theirs’ Yours are the riches Yours are the fruits of all your labour Yours are the sweats’ rewards Yours are whatever fruition your toil has brought unto yourselves The years of labour you have done, we say, it shall return to you Yet, as you now look around you All those years you have laboured Where are your rewards accumulating Where are your benefits that should justly comfort you beyond all frustrations Where your children’s toys Why is your salary and wages still the same Earth revolves as it has Millions before you have lived, thought, loved, hated and died Millions shall do the same in the unknown vastness of the future Blue planet swirling the heavens celestial How silent are the screams of millions as you exist now Upon the soil of this revolting planet Ayad Gharbawi
0
Jan 4, 2010
Jan 4, 2010 at 8:19 AM UTC
THOSE WHO WERE CROWNED, YET THEY NEVER KNEW - AYAD GHARBAWI
THOSE WHO WERE CROWNED, YET THEY NEVER KNEW Ayad Gharbawi When so many die You feel When so many perish in pain vivid yet distant You cry When so many noble and smiling suffocate helplessly You think So many, years and years, of memories within your heart Those who were crowned, yet they never knew Those who were praised by all virtue’s gods, yet they never heard I listen to myself, here as I stand The times that question me so steadfastly Who do you turn to, then, in such hours wearying Who will understand your comradeship The animals know full well Man’s nature and they turn away Tell me then, whoever you may be – how will stillness icy turn to laughter Do not weep, bird Feathered beauty of innocence fair and freedom just Do not weep for your heart, though many question you Though the many wish to **** you Others, may, stand by you Justice may embrace you, shelter you and free you to the skies above When I am asked, why this method of existence I reply, because, somehow, the future shall reap rewards brighter Somehow, the future shall crown my trials Somehow, the future shall embrace me with serenity Somehow, the future shall surround me with six daughters Thus, alone I stand now; Tomorrow may yet offer me the essence of humans warm and sincere The minds that are closed The poverty-stricken who blame themselves The poverty-stricken who are endlessly ashamed of themselves What, then, do you speak unto such souls weary and tired How, then, do you lift their burdens unfair How do you tell them that it is they who are just in claiming what is theirs And what, then, is their ‘theirs’ Yours are the riches Yours are the fruits of all your labour Yours are the sweats’ rewards Yours are whatever fruition your toil has brought unto yourselves The years of labour you have done, we say, it shall return to you Yet, as you now look around you All those years you have laboured Where are your rewards accumulating Where are your benefits that should justly comfort you beyond all frustrations Where your children’s toys Why is your salary and wages still the same Earth revolves as it has Millions before you have lived, thought, loved, hated and died Millions shall do the same in the unknown vastness of the future Blue planet swirling the heavens celestial How silent are the screams of millions as you exist now Upon the soil of this revolting planet Ayad Gharbawi
Continue reading...
55
Slack canvas bends with the first strokes: brush and paint scar a waiting whiteness. Others follow of less distinct pressure but now with an affected swirl a life emerges. Colours are selected with random thoroughness, outlining only what the eye believes it sees. Shapes conform to break the rules and innovate, where bright arrays can glide through blundered blobs: ochre, umber, raw sienna. Sable is saved for finer life forms steadfastly fixed in oil. Tentatively mixtures are blended to blur the more familiar with darker and darker hues. The creator remains anonymous.
0
Jul 7, 2011
Jul 7, 2011 at 11:48 PM UTC
Life Forms
The exorcist spat out unsatisfied souls, Steadfastly chained to breathing bodies, Convincing the living that, The dead haunt us. But, when I examine autopsies, I observe granular goosebumps, Rising from sunken skin, Scientifically speaking, Corpses confirm the opposite: Life haunts death.
0
Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 12:13 AM UTC
Regrets
Here's to those who suffer voluntarily, who rise above the mean and merely momentary pleasure that we feel sitting on a couch, eating Cheetos, watching reruns of "The Brady Bunch"; those who exercise, walk fast (raising weights with their arms in rhythm to their feet), jog, or actually even run -- as long as there's no clear goal in mind, no Olympic medal, no short-skirted cheerleaders proffering kisses; residents of Blakely, Georgia, and Moosejaw, Saskatchewan, who steadfastly resist removal to California and similar climes, knowing intuitively that delight in perfect weather is born in sub-zero winters, in summer's humid swelter; those who do without air-conditioning, using the money for a violin or books or trips to the local swimming pool; those who fast, mortify the flesh, -- or at least skip breakfast occasionally, refusing to indulge every ****** whim, letting them ripen, at least now and then, into actual, robust hunger; monks in solemn Kentucky silence, some, I suppose, are misanthropes, here I speak of those with a normal affection for chat and hubbub who restrict themselves to a reverent silence, speech being used only in extremity; blood donors.
0
Jun 14, 2019
Jun 14, 2019 at 8:27 PM UTC
Here's To Those Who Suffer Voluntarily
Loneliness, I need not speak a word Yet you're aware of my wretched pain; All through the night, your vigil you keep, Hearing my heart call to Love, in vain; Sensing my distress, you warn the dawn To tap gently at my window pane You know me so well -- my heart's a book You've read many times, with empathy; Steadfastly you watch, come rain or shine, You stand at your post most faithfully; I feel your presence in the darkness When tears blind my eyes mercilessly In a moment of false bravado, I foolishly pushed you from my side When I believed Love had come to stay -- A silly notion I now deride; Somehow you knew not to stray too  far, And when you returned, how we both cried! Come, Loneliness, let's call it a night, I'll discard these dreams, then we'll go home; Once again we'll amble, side by side, I have you ..... there's no reason to roam; Tonight I'll raise my glass in a toast: To you, friend, I dedicate this poem!
0
Jun 21, 2018
Jun 21, 2018 at 1:53 PM UTC
Dedicated To Loneliness
Can anyone hear the storm brewing in the distance/can anyone feel the specks of light fading away/flashes of lightning spark the dim horizon. Then, suddenly, changes to the sky profoundly grasp my mind/a storm here, I do not find/instead cosmic colors correlate to relay a certain alteration of reality. A certain distortion that which brings about haziness, drowsiness/with this gentle sensation manipulating the mind, comes dreams of everlasting bliss. Fields of floating clouds which have become opaque and concentrated, I’ve never felt so emancipated/ movement has no feeling, no restraint/ limitless, I have no weight. Moving steadily, steadfastly, ready to finally live, free of bounds/ not a single thought or worry has hit me, as if I simply don’t care for anything worldly. Then I see, seemingly far away as can be, my family straight ahead of me/ waiting for my arrival from the flight that has brought me liberty. I join them on a cloud far below, though a shan’t ask what has brought them such woe/ I’d rather not know, for this is a seemingly endless sensation that I shall not waste, by being pulled by gravitation back to that place. I soar away in a hurry, an unrelenting flurry/ what has occurred, I finally ponder to myself, has occurred, but I am here now, however absurd, and so I shall enjoy myself/ for I have no knowledge whatsoever what this new color wrought horizon brings for my future. My wings, with the span of what seems like infinity guiding me, flying away into this brilliant spectrum of divinity.
0
Feb 5, 2012
Feb 5, 2012 at 12:29 AM UTC
"Incandescent"
Can anyone hear the storm brewing in the distance/can anyone feel the specks of light fading away/flashes of lightning spark the dim horizon. Then, suddenly, changes to the sky profoundly grasp my mind/a storm here, I do not find/instead cosmic colors correlate to relay a certain alteration of reality. A certain distortion that which brings about haziness, drowsiness/with this gentle sensation manipulating the mind, comes dreams of everlasting bliss. Fields of floating clouds which have become opaque and concentrated, I’ve never felt so emancipated/ movement has no feeling, no restraint/ limitless, I have no weight. Moving steadily, steadfastly, ready to finally live, free of bounds/ not a single thought or worry has hit me, as if I simply don’t care for anything worldly. Then I see, seemingly far away as can be, my family straight ahead of me/ waiting for my arrival from the flight that has brought me liberty. I join them on a cloud far below, though a shan’t ask what has brought them such woe/ I’d rather not know, for this is a seemingly endless sensation that I shall not waste, by being pulled by gravitation back to that place. I soar away in a hurry, an unrelenting flurry/ what has occurred, I finally ponder to myself, has occurred, but I am here now, however absurd, and so I shall enjoy myself/ for I have no knowledge whatsoever what this new color wrought horizon brings for my future. My wings, with the span of what seems like infinity guiding me, flying away into this brilliant spectrum of divinity.
Continue reading...
9