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"straitened" poems
(To Ellen Terry) In the lone tent, waiting for victory, She stands with eyes marred by the mists of pain, Like some wan lily overdrenched with rain: The clamorous clang of arms, the ensanguined sky, War’s ruin, and the wreck of chivalry To her proud soul no common fear can bring: Bravely she tarrieth for her Lord the King, Her soul a-flame with passionate ecstasy. O Hair of Gold! O Crimson Lips! O Face Made for the luring and the love of man! With thee I do forget the toil and stress, The loveless road that knows no resting place, Time’s straitened pulse, the soul’s dread weariness, My freedom, and my life republican!
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Queen Henrietta Maria
Christ, dost Thou live indeed? or are Thy bones Still straitened in their rock-hewn sepulchre? And was Thy Rising only dreamed by her Whose love of Thee for all her sin atones? For here the air is horrid with men’s groans, The priests who call upon Thy name are slain, Dost Thou not hear the bitter wail of pain From those whose children lie upon the stones? Come down, O Son of God! incestuous gloom Curtains the land, and through the starless night Over Thy Cross a Crescent moon I see! If Thou in very truth didst burst the tomb Come down, O Son of Man! and show Thy might Lest Mahomet be crowned instead of Thee!
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On The Massacre Of The Christians In Bulgaria
Is it thy will that I should wax and wane, Barter my cloth of gold for hodden grey, And at thy pleasure weave that web of pain Whose brightest threads are each a wasted day? Is it thy will—Love that I love so well— That my Soul’s House should be a tortured spot Wherein, like evil paramours, must dwell The quenchless flame, the worm that dieth not? Nay, if it be thy will I shall endure, And sell ambition at the common mart, And let dull failure be my vestiture, And sorrow dig its grave within my heart. Perchance it may be better so—at least I have not made my heart a heart of stone, Nor starved my boyhood of its goodly feast, Nor walked where Beauty is a thing unknown. Many a man hath done so; sought to fence In straitened bonds the soul that should be free, Trodden the dusty road of common sense, While all the forest sang of liberty, Not marking how the spotted hawk in flight Passed on wide pinion through the lofty air, To where some steep untrodden mountain height Caught the last tresses of the Sun God’s hair. Or how the little flower he trod upon, The daisy, that white-feathered shield of gold, Followed with wistful eyes the wandering sun Content if once its leaves were aureoled. But surely it is something to have been The best beloved for a little while, To have walked hand in hand with Love, and seen His purple wings flit once across thy smile. Ay! though the gorged asp of passion feed On my boy’s heart, yet have I burst the bars, Stood face to face with Beauty, known indeed The Love which moves the Sun and all the stars!
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Apologia
Is it thy will that I should wax and wane, Barter my cloth of gold for hodden grey, And at thy pleasure weave that web of pain Whose brightest threads are each a wasted day? Is it thy will—Love that I love so well— That my Soul’s House should be a tortured spot Wherein, like evil paramours, must dwell The quenchless flame, the worm that dieth not? Nay, if it be thy will I shall endure, And sell ambition at the common mart, And let dull failure be my vestiture, And sorrow dig its grave within my heart. Perchance it may be better so—at least I have not made my heart a heart of stone, Nor starved my boyhood of its goodly feast, Nor walked where Beauty is a thing unknown. Many a man hath done so; sought to fence In straitened bonds the soul that should be free, Trodden the dusty road of common sense, While all the forest sang of liberty, Not marking how the spotted hawk in flight Passed on wide pinion through the lofty air, To where some steep untrodden mountain height Caught the last tresses of the Sun God’s hair. Or how the little flower he trod upon, The daisy, that white-feathered shield of gold, Followed with wistful eyes the wandering sun Content if once its leaves were aureoled. But surely it is something to have been The best beloved for a little while, To have walked hand in hand with Love, and seen His purple wings flit once across thy smile. Ay! though the gorged asp of passion feed On my boy’s heart, yet have I burst the bars, Stood face to face with Beauty, known indeed The Love which moves the Sun and all the stars!
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36
I wanna be as free as a bird, All I need is to say one shy word, Flying up high in the sky. If you're brave, you can try. Let your wings be straitened, Catch the wind into your net. Be like river's stormy stream, Run away towards your dream. When your thoughts want aspire to clouds, And the soul tries to get rid of chains, Don't think about those noisy crowds, Who are playing their boring games. Let your wings be straitened, Catch the wind into your net. Be like river's stormy stream, Run away towards your dream. You have all time of the world. So you should not follow the rules, They exterminate your identity, Make people be like a flock of fools. But then a dream comes to the end. Starts another interminable day. You rush down from the sky to the land. And a rainbow becomes dark and grey. Let your wings be straitened, Catch the wind into your net. Be like river's stormy stream, Run away towards your dream. If you wanna be as free as a bird, All you need is say only one word, Flying up high in the sky. If you're brave, you can try.
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Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 4:40 PM UTC
I wanna be as free as a bird
** Do you feel there is no mercy, With none to comfort you ? Come there is a hope for the weary, Jesus will shepherd you. No life was offered like Jesus, Nobody careth like him, Shedding His life - blood for sinners, Nobody careth like him. Are you now straitened and trembling, None to assuage your fear? He knows the tears you are shedding, Jesus doth answer prayer. When the night hangs upon your soul, With guilt of carnal mind, Look to the Lord Who can make whole , Jesus the Saviour kind. When you are smitten with sickness, Ailing with racking pain, Healing doth show forth His goodness, Jesus doth ever reign. Future unknown makes all dismal, And life an empty dream, He is the way, life eternal, Jesus -all Heaven's theme.**
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Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 1:13 PM UTC
NOBODY CARETH LIKE JESUS
Remember DOS 3.2? or even 6.0? I liked windows 3.1 I liked windows 3.11, ya know used windows 95 also used 98 fell in love with XP vista, wasn't great waited for windows 7 to get straitened out finally did, bout 2 years ago gave up my XP, with doubt they forced 10 upon me buggy, intrusive, and badly done ultimately got sic of it Ubuntu's the one, that won
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May 24, 2017
May 24, 2017 at 3:33 PM UTC
Operating Dissonance
the feathers of hope float upon the tenebrous air the unfledged girl unfolds herself from the straitened maze in which she mused encumbered by the remnants of her former beings to glance at the promise of the world composed anew if she be resolute in courage to take grasp of one unblemished pearlescent feather hold and then step/ dive /fall into the flight of a future unfathomable and soar
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Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 10:57 PM UTC
of feathers and fledging
Emotional sequestration perseverates across thine time warped weft wise wold, sans interpersonal stagnation flourishes as oft twice told tale amidst derelict hollowed moldering sacrificed stranglehold did potential..., now bankrupt acquaintanceships/ friendships get out sold agonizingly excruciatingly jujitsu physically writhing front row seat occupied - whereat direct view of scaffold penurious adolescent Anorexia Nervosa plagued decades prior fraught psychological, neurological and illogical repercussions steam rolled natural heterosexual propensity stifling, stinting, and stymying this old morosely jinxed kerfuffle inciting, hermetically heat sealed, tightly bound stinging straitened yellow jacketed bee devilish mold hogtied hold, pig in the poke, xenophobic-ally fastened, galvanic hold wrenching vice grippe fiercely extolled sterile lackluster human existence devoid cold hence, imperative ambition to act forthright and bold before advanced age finds this wordsmith additionally auld. This solitary reader quests doth newt plead per outreach need without supplicating, lionizing, boot mead dee eight ting, enticing Nietzscheism lead me by thine pug nose, nor doth this passive heretic - heed ding perseverance without selfishness nor greed aye only seek to be freed, where ambivalence to enjoy life exceed sharing soulful travails yes in deed foster repartee with persons no matter creed faith, intelligence, nationality breed united by state worthy charisma agreed?
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Jun 18, 2018
Jun 18, 2018 at 9:58 PM UTC
Pitched Upon Threshold Of Prepubescent Suicide
Emotional sequestration perseverates across thine time warped weft wise wold, sans interpersonal stagnation flourishes as oft twice told tale amidst derelict hollowed moldering sacrificed stranglehold did potential..., now bankrupt acquaintanceships/ friendships get out sold agonizingly excruciatingly jujitsu physically writhing front row seat occupied - whereat direct view of scaffold penurious adolescent Anorexia Nervosa plagued decades prior fraught psychological, neurological and illogical repercussions steam rolled natural heterosexual propensity stifling, stinting, and stymying this old morosely jinxed kerfuffle inciting, hermetically heat sealed, tightly bound stinging straitened yellow jacketed bee devilish mold hogtied hold, pig in the poke, xenophobic-ally fastened, galvanic hold wrenching vice grippe fiercely extolled sterile lackluster human existence devoid cold hence, imperative ambition to act forthright and bold before advanced age finds this wordsmith additionally auld. This solitary reader quests doth newt plead per outreach need without supplicating, lionizing, boot mead dee eight ting, enticing Nietzscheism lead me by thine pug nose, nor doth this passive heretic - heed ding perseverance without selfishness nor greed aye only seek to be freed, where ambivalence to enjoy life exceed sharing soulful travails yes in deed foster repartee with persons no matter creed faith, intelligence, nationality breed united by state worthy charisma agreed?
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48
She was straitened among vines And I came A messenger from the ruler Known by the red coverings of my knees She was sitting straitened under a stump With bare buttocks In a gloomy valley And no prospects for deliverance She was straitened before a frowning rock Her means of escape Cut her hands as a thorny branch Oppressed by that which should not opress She was straitened in a lonely place A palace without a ruler A king enters his castle And does not see a queen She was straitened among vines (Which she could break anytime) And I came (I was always there) A messenger from the ruler (A man who wants to love) Known by the red coverings of my knees (And my sacrifice to the spirits)
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Mar 15, 2016
Mar 15, 2016 at 2:45 AM UTC
exhaustion
Ah, dear old friend you see now the outcome! It seems a burden our friendship had become. Those unforeseen circumstances were to blame and so had changed all the nature of our game. The memorable times we both spent together were a joy to the heart in spite of the weather; we laughed, sang and even drank some wine to all appearances everything was going fine. But then, in just a few moments, now it seems our relationship turned sour as in bad dreams; what should've been only a momentary pause developed into a rift of an unfathomable cause. Some dormant impressions were re-awakened of a past life once lived but unfairly straitened; in those idyllic years towards the prime of life when most people are set on a husband or wife. We came across a fork on the road we travelled that branched in different ways to be unravelled. The longer we each walked on our separate path increased the distance between us and aftermath. A friendship that's mainly based on give and take could not forever last; as it is found to be a fake. It needs to be established on a solid foundation regardless of what's to each other's expectation. There are times when we should forgive and forget each other's shortcomings based on mutual respect and when a person is awakened to a higher calling doing otherwise is to that person's destiny stalling. ____________________
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May 5, 2020
May 5, 2020 at 12:07 PM UTC
Life's Separate Ways