"stiller" poems
The time you won your town the race
We chaired you through the market-place;
Man and boy stood cheering by,
And home we brought you shoulder-high.
To-day, the road all runners come,
Shoulder-high we bring you home,
And set you at your threshold down,
Townsman of a stiller town.
Smart lad, to slip betimes away
From fields where glory does not stay
And early though the laurel grows
It withers quicker than the rose.
Eyes the shady night has shut
Cannot see the record cut,
And silence sounds no worse than cheers
After earth has stopped the ears:
Now you will not swell the rout
Of lads that wore their honours out,
Runners whom renown outran
And the name died before the man.
So set, before its echoes fade,
The fleet foot on the sill of shade,
And hold to the low lintel up
The still-defended challenge-cup.
And round that early-laurelled head
Will flock to gaze the strengthless dead,
And find unwithered on its curls
The garland briefer than a girl's.
6k
tell it to the lighthouse boy
the sleepy-eyed resounding boy,
tell it to the lighthouse boy,
who wakes his days away.
sing it to the lighthouse boy
the bright-mouthed smiling ******** boy,
sing it to the lighthouse boy,
solemn, sweet, and still.
cry it to the lighthouse boy,
the hold you close and call-out boy,
cry it to the lighthouse boy,
who thinks his thoughts alone.
fling it to the lighthouse boy,
the bending low and catch it boy,
fling it to the lighthouse boy,
to carry on his own.
and oh,
did you ever see eyes so sad?
blue-green as the foaming sea they watch,
stiller than still and deeper than you can imagine,
gazing to your depths and
speaking nothing of them.
so tell it to the lighthouse boy,
the sleepy-eyed resounding boy.
tell it to the lighthouse boy,
who casts it out to sea.
Apr 29, 2012
Apr 29, 2012 at 12:45 AM UTC
would the stillness of the earth
be any stiller
if it stopped turning?
starry eyes are more than just
celestial
they are kaleidoscopical
refracting streetlight and splitting street lamps into galaxies
severed souls
carefully clustered
and then rapidly freed
amongst widely spread space
it wasn't their kaleidoscope eyes that had their broken hearts
falling apart at the seems,
but their lack of capability to
reflect another pair;
to reciprocate
emotion
perhaps the stillness of the earth
would be stiller
if we all stopped moving
to feel it turn
and perhaps your eyes are stars after all.
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 1:37 PM UTC
The time you won your town the race
We chaired you through the market-place;
Man and boy stood cheering by,
And home we brought you shoulder-high.
To-day, the road all runners come,
Shoulder-high we bring you home,
And set you at your threshold down,
Townsman of a stiller town.
Smart lad, to slip betimes away
From fields where glory does not stay
And early though the laurel grows
It withers quicker than the rose.
Eyes the shady night has shut
Cannot see the record cut,
And silence sounds no worse than cheers
After earth has stopped the ears:
Now you will not swell the rout
Of lads that wore their honours out,
Runners whom renown outran
And the name died before the man.
So set, before its echoes fade,
The fleet foot on the sill of shade,
And hold to the low lintel up
The still-defended challenge-cup.
And round that early-laurelled head
And find unwithered on its curls
The garland briefer than a girl's.
3.5k
374
I went to Heaven—
’Twas a small Town—
Lit—with a Ruby—
Lathed—with Down—
Stiller—than the fields
At the full Dew—
Beautiful—as Pictures—
No Man drew.
People—like the Moth—
Of Mechlin—frames—
Duties—of Gossamer—
And Eider—names—
Almost—contented—
I—could be—
**** such unique
Society—
2.9k
All the poems have wolves in it -- Jim Morrison
Man in bathtub with stony eyes
Water getting stiller in the cold, dead night
Hair long and soft as outstretched raven claws
Wilted fingers grip the lip with lifelike vigor
And then slip away
Naked wooden marionettes writhe
In dunes of ****** sawdust
Shedding skin like so much baggage
And baggage like so much skin
Cheese-grater screams on blank faces
Soon the forms are dust and then
The dust is gone
Inked fingers dipped in oft-repeated wisdoms
Picking little crippled words
And someone else's Lego bricks
Shine a light on the beautiful
Laugh at it
Sing to it
Grasp at it
Quit
Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 9:45 AM UTC
Oh, the great city's madness when at nightfall
The crippled trees gape by the blackened wall,
The spirit of evil peers from a silver mask;
Lights with magnetic scourge drive off the stony night.
Oh, the sunken pealing of evening bells.
***** who in her icy shivers sheds a still-born child.
With raving whips God's fury punishes brows possessed.
Purple pestilence, hunger that breaks green eyes.
Oh, the horrible laughter of gold.
But silent in dark caves a stiller humanity bleeds,
Out of hard metals moulds the redeeming head.
2.5k
Feel like the rain in the Summer times;
I'm so sorry to rain on their Parade,
Just too down in these Empty moments;
Buried in deep thought of my own Grave.
__'Come rain or shine; Come what may,'__
__'And in all my Hells highest water,'__
'Level best not to drown in Deep thought;'
'Free in stiller waters of Grand oceans,'
'Drifting until I make it to Shore some day;'
__"I'll be a bright Sun above the Storm."__
Aug 25, 2021
Aug 25, 2021 at 3:50 PM UTC
153
Dust is the only Secret—
Death, the only One
You cannot find out all about
In his “native town.”
Nobody know “his Father”—
Never was a Boy—
Hadn’t any playmates,
Or “Early history”—
Industrious! Laconic!
Punctual! Sedate!
Bold as a Brigand!
Stiller than a Fleet!
Builds, like a Bird, too!
Christ robs the Nest—
Robin after Robin
Smuggled to Rest!
1.9k
It has been a while in time
-—However not out of reach
I was trying to climb highs
-—I’d dared not before dream
The whisper that followed
-—My every step into more sorrow
Softening with thy gentle hum
-—The less of the hollow I become
Not in view but within my range
-—I’ve settled a life within a place
Stiller, the quieter, the strange
-—A hymn has me filled my gaze
Covering the eyes, I have them closed
-—For it’s in the heartbeat, ye old drum
The beat swung with wings that started to sing
—I thought I recognized the song
Laying still, bathed, I bask in your suns
—-I absorb thy lights and the winds blow in my back
All so I can let them move me as one
Nov 11, 2018
Nov 11, 2018 at 6:55 AM UTC
My shy hand shades a hermitage apart, -
O large enough for thee, and thy brief hours.
Life there is sweeter held than in God's heart,
Stiller than in the heavens of hollow flowers.
The wine is gladder there than in gold bowls.
And Time shall not drain thence, nor trouble spill.
Sources between my fingers feed all souls,
Where thou mayest cool thy lips, and draw thy fill.
Five cushions hath my hand, for reveries;
And one deep pillow for thy brow's fatigues;
Languor of June all winterlong, and ease
For ever from the vain untravelled leagues.
Thither your years may gather in from storm,
And Love, that sleepeth there, will keep thee warm.
1.7k
51
I often passed the village
When going home from school—
And wondered what they did there—
And why it was so still—
I did not know the year then—
In which my call would come—
Earlier, by the Dial,
Than the rest have gone.
It’s stiller than the sundown.
It’s cooler than the dawn—
The Daisies dare to come here—
And birds can flutter down—
So when you are tired—
Or perplexed—or cold—
Trust the loving promise
Underneath the mould,
Cry “it’s I,” “take Dollie,”
And I will enfold!
1.6k
Gather him to his grave again,
And solemnly and softly lay,
Beneath the verdure of the plain,
The warrior's scattered bones away.
Pay the deep reverence, taught of old,
The homage of man's heart to death;
Nor dare to trifle with the mould
Once hallowed by the Almighty's breath.
The soul hath quickened every part--
That remnant of a martial brow,
Those ribs that held the mighty heart,
That strong arm--strong no longer now.
Spare them, each mouldering relic spare,
Of God's own image; let them rest,
Till not a trace shall speak of where
The awful likeness was impressed.
For he was fresher from the hand
That formed of earth the human face,
And to the elements did stand
In nearer kindred, than our race.
In many a flood to madness tossed,
In many a storm has been his path;
He hid him not from heat or frost,
But met them, and defied their wrath.
Then they were kind--the forests here,
Rivers, and stiller waters, paid
A tribute to the net and spear
Of the red ruler of the shade.
Fruits on the woodland branches lay,
Roots in the shaded soil below,
The stars looked forth to teach his way,
The still earth warned him of the foe.
A noble race! but they are gone,
With their old forests wide and deep,
And we have built our homes upon
Fields where their generations sleep.
Their fountains slake our thirst at noon,
Upon their fields our harvest waves,
Our lovers woo beneath their moon--
Then let us spare, at least, their graves!
1.4k
i
the neighbours like to shout
while the sun come´ s out
lily is off her pretty head
to the sky dangles thread
soft she spake no doubt
how did this come about
lifted shyly off her bed
and to an alien wed
(they resembled trout
that fetching pout..)
so i was duly bled
and impregnated
soon a mewling brat
star blown and stout
multi eye and headed
plasma fed..
saviour of the planet..!
born to poet..
born to lead
man is saved..!
ii
well the world is in a pretty
pickle
if waiting for her alien love
chile
the sun has gone in
awhile
the sunday sea continues
a smile
hovers upon her red
lip..
iii
lily a dream
cast her leaden
glance sky
wards..
lily takes from
her sleeve
her treasured
cards..
a **** on her
******
and she´ s set
on ward..!
the future
laid bare
a seer
a bird
a bard
her face
drops
bad..?
bad..
these strange
recollections
inducing
sad
reflections
caste one forth
to endless
circle-
mad..
nothing about
strange
that
but this
my god
free heart..
and the majestic
lady..
buttercups
to
her eyes
what is it..
nothing good
a wild wood
any black
blood
now this card
is usually benign
the goblets of
wine not poison
but swamp
and sunk
and choked
seems clear
not here
a hovel
and a grey
evoked
still trees and
stiller eye
there is dark
that walk
abroad
behind and
away soon
cries like
a unique
word
and yes
black coagulation
while meek
and there
struggle losing
purr
if we knew
the end
or even
this card
and this one
so little
cur
normally
a staunch
friend
souls want..!
you will get
what you deserve
this skull says
crafty devilry..!
another cooling goblet..
lily..a strong pull..
upon
the
pipe
of
love..
Nov 24, 2018
Nov 24, 2018 at 9:40 AM UTC
I'll show you a place
Where no one ever grows old
Where life is ever stiller
And love is still a killer
A place where every dream is pure and bold
And the pavement it shines like gold untold
Down on Tupelo Road
I'll show you a home
Where togetherness reigns
Where laughter is ever after
And dreary is out to pasture
A home where every heart is whole and remains
And the hearth it glows like hope unchained
Down on Tupelo Road
©Jason Cole
May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 5:08 PM UTC
(Release Me!)
***
I'm the illa Killa Vanilla Consilla
Know That
I be the dope deala and deli meat Grrrrilla
like a Mystical street Thrilla
The Miracle Manzilla
A Mothra villian Chilla
If you rashin like pencil scratchin
for tongue tappin I cure like
penicillin the Wolf and Ben Stiller
I'm a hot steel on flesh wound heala!
(sssiizzzzle)
(Bang Bang)
Wake up to phone ringing
I'm head slinging
cloth stacking on a body
I'm sleep lacking
stay on track AND
(click clack)
My engine blows steam to
organize the regime
*** when I'm working
and writing
I am typing
and crying
*** this Job is dying me colors
like slashing my back and
(click clack)
They beast master and calls stack
I get my slack
between breaks and phone clack
and back track
to where the last ink slapped paper
and draw back from vapors
that ventilate out my ears
like kids caper through streets
with Halloween treats
I'm riding rails
like open sails
like blowing gales
it's raining hail
I'm screaming Hell
In this cube E Cell
(Toot Toooot)
My grey matter is burning
My soul coal is churning
like a witch on stick burning
(Crackle Pop Snap)
Release
(To get Back)
I Master peace
cause my mind's eyes flying
the call cue is dying my fingers fly
no longer trying
to typecast
I drive fast
then Breakfast
for den her
Then
(sshhhhhhh)
The universal remote
is on mute
transcending this dome
my transcendental home
It's my cue
To slip into
the zone
I sip a bit of foam
my cup of coco from
thus releasing my thoughts with YuuHmm
(slurp slurp)
I think for others Daily
Rarely given space or time or Air We
All must trust the Wind gust of
dust and skin gone so scaly
Yet I slither as slow as snails to my home
for me in my dome
to slip into the zone
I sip a bit of foam
from my cup of coco
thus releasing me with an
(Ohm)
of work for others Daily
Rarely given time or space or air WE
all must trust the Wind gusts of dust
and skin gone scaly
So we slither as slow as snails
to a home
for me
deep in my dome
sipping on the zone
bit off coco cup foam
slow snails slip
(Ohm....)
I master peace
Wind
(Release!)
Oct 30, 2015
Oct 30, 2015 at 5:56 PM UTC
The city is windy,
today.
Certainly noisy, everyday,
Compared to my country life.
Tall buildings glimmer,
Streets boisterous with sounds of people and machines.
Excitement!
Opportunity!
Urgency!
Country life, by comparison, stiller,
Slo wer,
Ex pan sive.
Both are good
I tell myself.
I am still flexible,
I tell myself.
Then, verily it dawns on me,
with unfamiliar panic and relief,
that my stretching-bending days are over.
I want to ride
like the wind
to where my being has
despite itself,
taken root.
Where the nomad has
inadvertently pitched
A more permanent tent.
30 years after roaming
ill-suited ground
my Restless Soul
was cleverly tricked
to settle
where nature,
in all her glory
and quiet magnificence,
crowds the land.
Amen.
Jun 13, 2015
Jun 13, 2015 at 4:40 AM UTC
Oh subtle sounds why do you taunt
My frail mind of guilt?
Yes far I went, too far
'Till your eyes no longer glinted
In the pale moonlight
And you lay stiller
Than the garden statue
Now of which has the engraved characters
R.I.P
And yes sorry I am thy heart of sweet
But provocation you purged me with
And cope I couldn't
Now pray I shall that found your not
Pray and pray I will
I wish you peace
But most of all
I wish away my doings
Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 10:38 AM UTC
Not all defeat is bitter
Sometimes it lifts you up
Arms out stretched
Standing on a mountain
Sometimes life can be confusing
Perplexed standing on a podium
Holding a Gold Cup
While the winner
Gets a wooden spoon,
Even nothing
Sometimes defeat can give you
A little lift,
A little bounce
In your step
As though you were
Carried by an elephant
Sometimes winners crawl back
To their cages while you
Enjoy outstretched spaces
In all your vast freedom
Sometimes defeat dresses
You in purple
Crowns you as King
And says Go On
Claim your Kingdom
Sometimes after all the
cursing,
Defying God
You realize you are cured
And God was only operating
Sometimes after all the
Shouting and swearing
You discover the world has
Become much sweeter
And sometimes after all the
Thrashing and splashing the
The water becomes much stiller
And you see all the colour
In the coral
And sometimes when you fall
Into these deep waters
You may hear a mermaids call
Telling you your destiny's pull
Sometimes defeat can be your glory
As you find the air is brighter
And your friends are kinder
Even the birds sing louder
Sometimes defeat is not your
Enemy but actually your saviour
Pointing you the way out
Rescuing you from a great fire
Sometimes defeat is your closest friend
Holding you tenderly like a lover
Protecting you where it matters
The outside world in tatters
I don't care because
Not all defeat, is bitter
Sometimes it lifts you up
With arms outstretched and
Places you on a mountain
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 6:37 PM UTC
902
The first Day that I was a Life
I recollect it—How still—
That last Day that I was a Life
I recollect it—as well—
’Twas stiller—though the first
Was still—
“Twas empty—but the first
Was full—
This—was my finallest Occasion—
But then
My tenderer Experiment
Toward Men—
“Which choose I”?
That—I cannot say—
“Which choose They”?
Question Memory!
1.1k
Sounds swarming
But quite alarming
College babes
Like___ Slimfast
Drink___ fast
Loves never last
Dorming ****
X box Assassin Creed
Video gifts Elfering
Twitter featuring
The Rattlesnake
*********
My sweet
surrender
Sangria
stuttering
Big mistake
The sangria
Clever mastering
The place was
bugged
That Drunk
No comedy act
Ben Stiller
All Gigs **** her
GIF ruff stuff
Gold digger bluff
Hangover cliff
Her bedroom eyes
Tonight the
Holy water
I phone Maria
Sangria suits him
Just the ring fighter
Ratfinks website
White being
creamed
Drink Kahlia
I won't
My dream drink
Sangria
Saint
My love, you ain't
He is singing
Maria
Strong hangover
with mudpack
Malaria
Drink playmate
All geared up
Generous Gina
Montezuma revenge
The Saint lounge
Competition
How she flaunts
her drinks inferior
Writing a poem
missing
some fonts
((His Tatoo))
the bomb drinker
Pineapple chunks
Bayou
water ripe ripples
Leftover drunks
Mon Cheri *******
Acting like a Saint
Terri spiritual Rumi
The drink scruples
relationship
sandstorm
Riders of
Morrisons
Heirs of beer
At the dorm
The ((Psychic Alarm))
Your drink woke
you up
****** humor
potential
Sangria
Someone was singing
I just met a girl
named Maria
((Harry Potter Hogwarts))
San Antonio
Met Maria
What a belly wash
Drinking up
Alcoholic Darts
Sanguine
Difficulty
pregnancy
Two lovers
liking Maria
Optimistic
Smoothing in
Sangria
He has
a Margarita____*
Mexican
Cancun
Margaret
upbeat
down to her
last drink
Sangria tank
Egyptian Army
buddy drinking
Like a
sandbank
Computer
Clickbank
Lions and coins
sandblasting
Morons
multitasking
Bermuda sounds
Sandpipers
And globetrotters
My Saint
of Sangria
Barcelona
Goddess
On her drenched
Sangria
mattress
She could
have done
his Bio
((That SanAntonio))
((Hostess)) Gia
Lollobrigida
Tony was singing
out to Maria
Her wings
of liquor
The Saint moves
quicker_______
Cabaret stripper
Natalie let me
entertain you
Surprise the
sanitarians
Flipping homes
Drinking up
Their Sangria
My Saint
Bella
Mama Mia
You arrived invite
your friends
No Maria______!!
Drinks on me
Schools out
But Sangria
Stays in we party
Way out
May 17, 2018
May 17, 2018 at 8:47 AM UTC
Whats wrong with your matter
why do your thoughts seem to shatter
and splatter all silence into waves
of static chatter
Let your mind faulter
sitting silent under the calm water
Bubbled constant blabber jabber of
topics and thoughts and things that really dont matter
Fill the days with more than one hour
of silent inner and being stiller
giving power to the brain flower
Ignore the distractor the interactor
and the teacher thats molding young minds
with some kind of ego attractor
use brain conditioner applyed twice a day
by a liscensed practitoner
asleep at the wheeler
thoughts that act as some kind of leader
attracted by a stringer
unaware of the silent danger
mind of alter hidden
right above the shoulder
Dec 17, 2011
Dec 17, 2011 at 11:10 AM UTC