"stipulate" poems - Hello Poetry

My hand held out... ...to guard your back When your friendships lacked ...to give money or supplies When you couldn't survive ...to hold your hand When you needed support ...to give you a hug When you needed love ...to high five yours At all of your endeavors ...to pat on your back When you succeeded this or that ...to throw a thumbs-up Because you never gave up My hand held out... ...to cover my eyes Through all of the lies ...to hide evidence When you lacked common sense ...to understand the unreal Amounts of items you'd steal ...to my chin to stipulate The way you'd manipulate ...to cover my heart and divert From your stories that hurt. I could do this when I had two hands. I could juggle these separate demands. My dominant hand is limp now. The tasks I take on are now simple. I can only do one thing at a time. Like, write out this single line rhyme. When you see my hand out... ...from utter desperation Please don't tabulate your accommodation ...remember I never asked before my disability That you had previously admired my stability ...homeless, ***** and hungry Offer to help me, without charging money ...keep in mind, it's the only one I have My abilities and tasks all need to be halves ...perhaps don't act put-out or surprised Because the person who's asking is paralyzed.

0

Apr 20, 2017

Apr 20, 2017 at 10:44 AM UTC

itsjustring

My Hand

My hand held out... ...to guard your back When your friendships lacked ...to give money or supplies When you couldn't survive ...to hold your hand When you needed support ...to give you a hug When you needed love ...to high five yours At all of your endeavors ...to pat on your back When you succeeded this or that ...to throw a thumbs-up Because you never gave up My hand held out... ...to cover my eyes Through all of the lies ...to hide evidence When you lacked common sense ...to understand the unreal Amounts of items you'd steal ...to my chin to stipulate The way you'd manipulate ...to cover my heart and divert From your stories that hurt. I could do this when I had two hands. I could juggle these separate demands. My dominant hand is limp now. The tasks I take on are now simple. I can only do one thing at a time. Like, write out this single line rhyme. When you see my hand out... ...from utter desperation Please don't tabulate your accommodation ...remember I never asked before my disability That you had previously admired my stability ...homeless, ***** and hungry Offer to help me, without charging money ...keep in mind, it's the only one I have My abilities and tasks all need to be halves ...perhaps don't act put-out or surprised Because the person who's asking is paralyzed.

43

*What you don’t understand Is that I don’t think like you I don’t wait in line Because there is nothing that I need What you don’t understand Is that I’m not turned on like you I’m not a thrill seeker Because I don’t crave speed What you don’t understand Is that I’m not impressed I don’t have to prove my manhood Because I already planted that seed What you don’t understand Is that I don’t keep up with you I don’t care anymore Because I am not full of greed What you don’t understand Is that you cannot control me I made you angry Because we never agreed What you don’t understand Is that I don’t live in your world I’m not trendy Because all I do is lead What you don’t understand Is that you cannot reach me I am not vulnerable Because I will never bleed What you don't understand Is why I won’t laugh I am not fooled Because you are so full of need What you don’t understand Is that it will never work I will not be compromised Because your plan will never succeed What you don’t understand Is that I seek the truth I reject what you stipulate Because I don’t eat what you feed What you don’t understand Is that you will never know I don’t have to explain Because I have my own creed What you don’t understand Is that I will soon be gone I only warn you Because I want you to take heed What you don’t understand Is that I don’t have to run I will never follow Because I will always precede What you don’t understand Is that you will never understand I will prompt questions Because I will always mislead What you don’t understand Is that your time is short You will soon wilt Because freedom will **** a **** All Rights Reserved. Copyright 2011. Mark Lecuona

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Feb 10, 2012

Feb 10, 2012 at 9:00 AM UTC

mark-lecuona

What You Don't Understand

61

335 ’Tis not that Dying hurts us so— ’Tis Living—hurts us more— But Dying—is a different way— A Kind behind the Door— The Southern Custom—of the Bird— That ere the Frosts are due— Accepts a better Latitude— We—are the Birds—that stay. The Shrivers round Farmers’ doors— For whose reluctant Crumb— We stipulate—till pitying Snows Persuade our Feathers Home.

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1.5k

Emily Dickinson

Tis not that Dying hurts us so

335 ’Tis not that Dying hurts us so— ’Tis Living—hurts us more— But Dying—is a different way— A Kind behind the Door— The Southern Custom—of the Bird— That ere the Frosts are due— Accepts a better Latitude— We—are the Birds—that stay. The Shrivers round Farmers’ doors— For whose reluctant Crumb— We stipulate—till pitying Snows Persuade our Feathers Home.

13

It's always pure fate To find the one who will be your date The one who is your soul mate The one you could never hate There are a lot of fakes The ones who are always late Ones who try to stipulate And turn you into someone you hate. When that one is found Nobody needs to make a sound It's just something obvious Nothing needs to be discussed Your heart skips And your mind slips Always thinking of another More than their own mother The one will make you feel A little more than the real deal Quickly they will help you heal Together, both are like steel. Together they resonate true love High up on the wings of a white dove Forever locked in an embracing hug Never to be broken, regardless of challenge So I say to you The one who has my heart My feelings for you are true Easily expressed by an "I love you"

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Feb 24, 2015

Feb 24, 2015 at 3:36 PM UTC

Shplink

Pure Fate

It's always pure fate To find the one who will be your date The one who is your soul mate The one you could never hate There are a lot of fakes The ones who are always late Ones who try to stipulate And turn you into someone you hate. When that one is found Nobody needs to make a sound It's just something obvious Nothing needs to be discussed Your heart skips And your mind slips Always thinking of another More than their own mother The one will make you feel A little more than the real deal Quickly they will help you heal Together, both are like steel. Together they resonate true love High up on the wings of a white dove Forever locked in an embracing hug Never to be broken, regardless of challenge So I say to you The one who has my heart My feelings for you are true Easily expressed by an "I love you"

28

476 I meant to have but modest needs— Such as Content—and Heaven— Within my income—these could lie And Life and I—keep even— But since the last—included both— It would suffice my Prayer But just for One—to stipulate— And Grace would grant the Pair— And so—upon this wise—I prayed— Great Spirit—Give to me A Heaven not so large as Yours, But large enough—for me— A Smile suffused Jehovah’s face— The Cherubim—withdrew— Grave Saints stole out to look at me— And showed their dimples—too— I left the Place, with all my might— I threw my Prayer away— The Quiet Ages picked it up— And Judgment—twinkled—too— Tat one so honest—be extant— It take the Tale for true— That “Whatsoever Ye shall ask— Itself be given You”— But I, grown shrewder—scan the Skies With a suspicious Air— As Children—swindled for the first All Swindlers—be—infer—

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1.2k

Emily Dickinson

I meant to have but modest needs

476 I meant to have but modest needs— Such as Content—and Heaven— Within my income—these could lie And Life and I—keep even— But since the last—included both— It would suffice my Prayer But just for One—to stipulate— And Grace would grant the Pair— And so—upon this wise—I prayed— Great Spirit—Give to me A Heaven not so large as Yours, But large enough—for me— A Smile suffused Jehovah’s face— The Cherubim—withdrew— Grave Saints stole out to look at me— And showed their dimples—too— I left the Place, with all my might— I threw my Prayer away— The Quiet Ages picked it up— And Judgment—twinkled—too— Tat one so honest—be extant— It take the Tale for true— That “Whatsoever Ye shall ask— Itself be given You”— But I, grown shrewder—scan the Skies With a suspicious Air— As Children—swindled for the first All Swindlers—be—infer—

29

468 The Manner of its Death When Certain it must die— ’Tis deemed a privilege to choose— ’Twas Major Andre’s Way— When Choice of Life—is past— There yet remains a Love Its little Fate to stipulate— How small in those who live— The Miracle to tease With Bable of the styles— How “they are Dying mostly—now”— And Customs at “St. James”!

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1.1k

Emily Dickinson

The Manner of its Death

468 The Manner of its Death When Certain it must die— ’Tis deemed a privilege to choose— ’Twas Major Andre’s Way— When Choice of Life—is past— There yet remains a Love Its little Fate to stipulate— How small in those who live— The Miracle to tease With Bable of the styles— How “they are Dying mostly—now”— And Customs at “St. James”!

13

On the seventh day we paid the rent and what was meant for food gave us one more week to brood on inequality and the inferiority of our position. One condition we stipulate,is not to tempt the hand of fate or providence and not paying rent would surely dent the image that we try to make and though it breaks my heart to part with nine and six a week and even if I know the landlord's got a bleedin' cheek to charge this much I touch my forelock and say, 'good morning Sir'. An air of doom and gloom descends it all depends on what next I say, will I pay this ghastly fee to keep a roof over Marjorie (the wife) the kids and I or will I look the landlord in the eye and let him know that he's a thieving crook and intimate that he should go and **** himself and take the rent book too what do I do but lay the nine and six upon the table with the pale blue rent book and do not say, 'go **** anyone' me and the missus and kids will stay on for another week while seeking out some other place where barefaced robbery is a crime. In another time the landlord would be shot his houses all forfeit but today that rotten toff has got it all, it's like a noose tied round my neck,a millstone that drags me by the ***** and puts me down I ought to push that bad lot in the 'cut' and let the baftard drown, and I said nothing, not a sound escaped my lips the class system trips me up and weighs me in and while I drink a bottle of sour milk he drinks Geneva gin. Poor people and peasants never win the odds are bent in favour of more rent and that rotten sod will nod and shake his head I'd wish him dead but that's another sin and like I said, poor people and peasants never win.

0

Jul 1, 2013

Jul 1, 2013 at 5:41 PM UTC

john-edward-smallshaw

Up at the Manor

On the seventh day we paid the rent and what was meant for food gave us one more week to brood on inequality and the inferiority of our position. One condition we stipulate,is not to tempt the hand of fate or providence and not paying rent would surely dent the image that we try to make and though it breaks my heart to part with nine and six a week and even if I know the landlord's got a bleedin' cheek to charge this much I touch my forelock and say, 'good morning Sir'. An air of doom and gloom descends it all depends on what next I say, will I pay this ghastly fee to keep a roof over Marjorie (the wife) the kids and I or will I look the landlord in the eye and let him know that he's a thieving crook and intimate that he should go and **** himself and take the rent book too what do I do but lay the nine and six upon the table with the pale blue rent book and do not say, 'go **** anyone' me and the missus and kids will stay on for another week while seeking out some other place where barefaced robbery is a crime. In another time the landlord would be shot his houses all forfeit but today that rotten toff has got it all, it's like a noose tied round my neck,a millstone that drags me by the ***** and puts me down I ought to push that bad lot in the 'cut' and let the baftard drown, and I said nothing, not a sound escaped my lips the class system trips me up and weighs me in and while I drink a bottle of sour milk he drinks Geneva gin. Poor people and peasants never win the odds are bent in favour of more rent and that rotten sod will nod and shake his head I'd wish him dead but that's another sin and like I said, poor people and peasants never win.

24

There was a lamp, **dark and Black,** It was rubbed, polished The wrong way, Ash filled Smoke filled the room, and it Said a wish is to be made. A desire, a thrill, an **untimely End** to those who have done you ill. "I will grant you these three" "Do what you wish" And I will always fulfil. Wish one, thought through, Motioned with a but a word Spoken to this wisp of form Eyes red as burning bright coal. This wish is to bring a loved one back "I wish for her to be in my arms" "To sleep in my bed once" Eyes awoken a silhouette greets As sheets pulled back. Horror absorbed before the eyes As gaunt features meet tears And screams and cries. "I wanted her back, in my arms" "You did not wish her alive" For she was already dead. And isn't Death the lonest sleep of your lives. "Details my sir are the moments of thought" You wished for her in your grasp, But she was buried long after life had left. "I wish" "I wish" Don't think, lips spit words in Anger and anguish. And what happened Now may happen again. "I wish to see her, alive" "Breathing upon my skin" Wishing is said so it is done, a Haze of moments , and once again The smile so loved, a moment relived And soon to end. "What have you done" "What trickery has your black mist once again done" You wished for a moment, where Breathe and life were one, you Never said a, Date, Time, Moments Are many too infinite to count, you didn't stipulate Which one where life breathed out. And with that steel crunched, this moment Relived, Third wish, final count. I Wish for her to be the survivor I wish to trade my life so hers doesn't Go without. and the car filled **black Ash** as with each wish had done. "Your wish is my command" "Fair well friend" As a third wish played out, Moments Were passing as life choked out, I saw her escape the wreckage, Life for a life given with out doubt. But a black lamp is as evil as it gets, For his last moment in life, his Beloved ran for help, only to be Taken under the wheels of a van, Black lamps INC Was the sign on the back, A tear fell, as the writing read out "The devil is in the details" "You should always think things out" She had survived the accident, My life given without a doubt. But what I hadn't said how long My loves life moments, years, its the Details that will get you, now not Only one life lost but two now fading out.

0

Mar 5, 2015

Mar 5, 2015 at 5:25 PM UTC

poetic-t

The Black Lamp

There was a lamp, **dark and Black,** It was rubbed, polished The wrong way, Ash filled Smoke filled the room, and it Said a wish is to be made. A desire, a thrill, an **untimely End** to those who have done you ill. "I will grant you these three" "Do what you wish" And I will always fulfil. Wish one, thought through, Motioned with a but a word Spoken to this wisp of form Eyes red as burning bright coal. This wish is to bring a loved one back "I wish for her to be in my arms" "To sleep in my bed once" Eyes awoken a silhouette greets As sheets pulled back. Horror absorbed before the eyes As gaunt features meet tears And screams and cries. "I wanted her back, in my arms" "You did not wish her alive" For she was already dead. And isn't Death the lonest sleep of your lives. "Details my sir are the moments of thought" You wished for her in your grasp, But she was buried long after life had left. "I wish" "I wish" Don't think, lips spit words in Anger and anguish. And what happened Now may happen again. "I wish to see her, alive" "Breathing upon my skin" Wishing is said so it is done, a Haze of moments , and once again The smile so loved, a moment relived And soon to end. "What have you done" "What trickery has your black mist once again done" You wished for a moment, where Breathe and life were one, you Never said a, Date, Time, Moments Are many too infinite to count, you didn't stipulate Which one where life breathed out. And with that steel crunched, this moment Relived, Third wish, final count. I Wish for her to be the survivor I wish to trade my life so hers doesn't Go without. and the car filled **black Ash** as with each wish had done. "Your wish is my command" "Fair well friend" As a third wish played out, Moments Were passing as life choked out, I saw her escape the wreckage, Life for a life given with out doubt. But a black lamp is as evil as it gets, For his last moment in life, his Beloved ran for help, only to be Taken under the wheels of a van, Black lamps INC Was the sign on the back, A tear fell, as the writing read out "The devil is in the details" "You should always think things out" She had survived the accident, My life given without a doubt. But what I hadn't said how long My loves life moments, years, its the Details that will get you, now not Only one life lost but two now fading out.

77

Thought about the values That stipulate the way You hold yourself in public And play your cards each day. Those building blocks of character The templates in your psych, The friction points of weakness That wake you in the night. Thought about the substance That binds you to your way The strengths and the failings That motivate your day. Enigmatic factors, The quirks in your soul Which endear you to some But leave others quite cold. Thought about loving And loathing and pride, And the great depths of sorrow We carry inside. The reluctance to face The resentments of sin With selective amnesia We nurture within. Thought about birth With it's promise and joy, Thought about death As finality's ploy Laughed at the memory Of your smiling face And squirmed with discomfort In an old lies disgrace. Thought about leaving But decide to stay, Thought about praying Buy what would I say ? I decided to sit And contemplate life With it's myriad fantasies, Pleasures and strife. I Thought about you With a smile on your face, So I'll ponder awhile In this pleasant place. I'll sit and remember The happiness spared In that thin whisp of timeframe That mother fate shared. Marshalg @theBach 19 July 2009

0

Oct 23, 2009

Oct 23, 2009 at 4:36 PM UTC

marshal-gebbie

Thoughts Before Dawn

Thought about the values That stipulate the way You hold yourself in public And play your cards each day. Those building blocks of character The templates in your psych, The friction points of weakness That wake you in the night. Thought about the substance That binds you to your way The strengths and the failings That motivate your day. Enigmatic factors, The quirks in your soul Which endear you to some But leave others quite cold. Thought about loving And loathing and pride, And the great depths of sorrow We carry inside. The reluctance to face The resentments of sin With selective amnesia We nurture within. Thought about birth With it's promise and joy, Thought about death As finality's ploy Laughed at the memory Of your smiling face And squirmed with discomfort In an old lies disgrace. Thought about leaving But decide to stay, Thought about praying Buy what would I say ? I decided to sit And contemplate life With it's myriad fantasies, Pleasures and strife. I Thought about you With a smile on your face, So I'll ponder awhile In this pleasant place. I'll sit and remember The happiness spared In that thin whisp of timeframe That mother fate shared. Marshalg @theBach 19 July 2009

51

Oh consuming flame of love, that hates True Love An empire of beautiful memories we create Only to stipulate on falsely proclaimed common grounds That we are but equal pieces on a checkered chess board Yet viciously, we have both claimed crown to a crumbling kingdom Enemies we are, for the colors white and black cannot love each other Without the selfish rage of war, in an attempt to consume one another

0

May 27, 2012

May 27, 2012 at 1:14 PM UTC

christopher-evan-dillinger

If Spades Were Hearts

Oh consuming flame of love, that hates True Love An empire of beautiful memories we create Only to stipulate on falsely proclaimed common grounds That we are but equal pieces on a checkered chess board Yet viciously, we have both claimed crown to a crumbling kingdom Enemies we are, for the colors white and black cannot love each other Without the selfish rage of war, in an attempt to consume one another

7

Maybe our emotions are things that control us more than we will ever be able to control them. Some say that we don't have control over the basis of our feelings, love and fear. They both blind us so easily that we don't even see our true reflection in the mirror. Let alone anyone else's. We see either the best or the worst aspects in retrospect of which one is the blinding tool at hand. Yet some people tend to stipulate that we have the choice to be scared. That we decide whether we fall in or out of love. That we have control of ourselves, the whole "mind over matter" spiel. However, in reality, its both theories. Sure, you may have some control here or there, but you are never a hundred percent in charge of what your body does. Its impossible. It is it's own being and doesn't really care if you disagree with it sometimes. Whether its the awkward sounds it makes in public, like a rumbling stomach noise or the rollercoaster of emotions that kick in after the age of twelve or so. We generally don't have much control over it all. Life has a way of making us think that we can and that its possible, but then we have a way of denying that and never even letting the probability of it come to light. - E.A.F

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Feb 8, 2015

Feb 8, 2015 at 12:21 PM UTC

elizabeth-fruin

Emotions

Maybe our emotions are things that control us more than we will ever be able to control them. Some say that we don't have control over the basis of our feelings, love and fear. They both blind us so easily that we don't even see our true reflection in the mirror. Let alone anyone else's. We see either the best or the worst aspects in retrospect of which one is the blinding tool at hand. Yet some people tend to stipulate that we have the choice to be scared. That we decide whether we fall in or out of love. That we have control of ourselves, the whole "mind over matter" spiel. However, in reality, its both theories. Sure, you may have some control here or there, but you are never a hundred percent in charge of what your body does. Its impossible. It is it's own being and doesn't really care if you disagree with it sometimes. Whether its the awkward sounds it makes in public, like a rumbling stomach noise or the rollercoaster of emotions that kick in after the age of twelve or so. We generally don't have much control over it all. Life has a way of making us think that we can and that its possible, but then we have a way of denying that and never even letting the probability of it come to light. - E.A.F

6

Transparent seconds tick away, mumbling their progression. Filtered cigarettes and coffee, both staining fingertips. Enough time has passed, yet still sober thought circulates in such a way that I do not feel the blades of the fan in the room. A facade has been erected. A sort of wall, a kind of defence. Pretending that limitless possibilities are open for me. Privacy I once cherished is a memory no longer active in the daily reactionary tones of being in this prison. In and out, and out and in, the professional experts affirm and stipulate the terms of my existence. Prodding, touching, measuring. Advising, compelling, warning. Their repetitious bleating draining the spirit. I glance with longing at the passageway of doors, knowing that all but one is locked and firmly sealed. Hope. Yes, have hope. Be the glass half full, but acknowledge that is is also half empty. Somewhere in between the two points of view lies my truth.

0

Apr 15, 2016

Apr 15, 2016 at 11:18 PM UTC

ChrisGVaillancourt

Transparent Seconds Tick Away

Transparent seconds tick away, mumbling their progression. Filtered cigarettes and coffee, both staining fingertips. Enough time has passed, yet still sober thought circulates in such a way that I do not feel the blades of the fan in the room. A facade has been erected. A sort of wall, a kind of defence. Pretending that limitless possibilities are open for me. Privacy I once cherished is a memory no longer active in the daily reactionary tones of being in this prison. In and out, and out and in, the professional experts affirm and stipulate the terms of my existence. Prodding, touching, measuring. Advising, compelling, warning. Their repetitious bleating draining the spirit. I glance with longing at the passageway of doors, knowing that all but one is locked and firmly sealed. Hope. Yes, have hope. Be the glass half full, but acknowledge that is is also half empty. Somewhere in between the two points of view lies my truth.

36

Thought about the values That stipulate the way You hold yourself in public And play your cards each day. Those building blocks of character The templates in your psych, The friction points of weakness That wake you in the night. Thought about the substance That binds you to your way The strengths and the failings That motivate your day. Enigmatic factors, The quirks in your soul Which endear you to some But leave others cold. Thought about loving And loathing and pride, And the great depths of sorrow We carry inside. The reluctance to face The resentments of sin In selective amnesia's We nurture within. Thought about birth With it's promise and joy, Thought about death As finality's ploy Laughed at the memory Of your smiling face And squirmed with discomfort At an old lie's disgrace. Thought about leaving Decided to stay, Thought about praying Buy what would I say ? I decided to sit And contemplate life With it's myriad pleasures, Fantasies, strife. I Thought about you With a smile on your face, And I'll ponder awhile In this pleasant place..... I'll sit and remember The happiness pared From that thin whisp of timeframe Old Mother Fate shared. M. 3 September 2014

0

Sep 3, 2014

Sep 3, 2014 at 12:36 AM UTC

marshal-gebbie

Thoughts before Dawn

Thought about the values That stipulate the way You hold yourself in public And play your cards each day. Those building blocks of character The templates in your psych, The friction points of weakness That wake you in the night. Thought about the substance That binds you to your way The strengths and the failings That motivate your day. Enigmatic factors, The quirks in your soul Which endear you to some But leave others cold. Thought about loving And loathing and pride, And the great depths of sorrow We carry inside. The reluctance to face The resentments of sin In selective amnesia's We nurture within. Thought about birth With it's promise and joy, Thought about death As finality's ploy Laughed at the memory Of your smiling face And squirmed with discomfort At an old lie's disgrace. Thought about leaving Decided to stay, Thought about praying Buy what would I say ? I decided to sit And contemplate life With it's myriad pleasures, Fantasies, strife. I Thought about you With a smile on your face, And I'll ponder awhile In this pleasant place..... I'll sit and remember The happiness pared From that thin whisp of timeframe Old Mother Fate shared. M. 3 September 2014

50

Can you hear me as i am breathing feeling such an emotion broken, like the moon i am discovered and have never been nurtured i have never made good choices even here, listening to the voices inhaling these chemicals and not confiding in these evangelicals just kiss me, and take my poison and as i manipulate you will not just stipulate never loving me no one ever wanting to see i am not crazy, just a bit bizarre and to this ongoing hell the end is very far

0

Oct 9, 2015

Oct 9, 2015 at 2:19 PM UTC

anastasia-anderson

Falling

Can you hear me as i am breathing feeling such an emotion broken, like the moon i am discovered and have never been nurtured i have never made good choices even here, listening to the voices inhaling these chemicals and not confiding in these evangelicals just kiss me, and take my poison and as i manipulate you will not just stipulate never loving me no one ever wanting to see i am not crazy, just a bit bizarre and to this ongoing hell the end is very far

17