"succoured" poems
Crosses and troubles a-many have proved me.
One or two women (God bless them!) have loved me.
I have worked and dreamed, and I've talked at will.
Of art and drink I have had my fill.
I've comforted here, and I've succoured there.
I've faced my foes, and I've backed my friends.
I've blundered, and sometimes made amends.
I have prayed for light, and I've known despair.
Now I look before, as I look behind,
Come storm, come shine, whatever befall,
With a grateful heart and a constant mind,
For the end I know is the best of all.
1.3k
Sought the lost and lonely traills
Slept beneath the stars,
Walked where the wild beast trod
And gazed aloft to Mars.
Tasted that which succoured me
Exquisite on the tongue,
Drank the wild and wooly brews
Then lay down in the sun.
Ran the race of all young men
Epic and guilt free,
Often paid the price in pain
Which brought me to the knee.
Could lament on sorrows past,
Easily shed a tear.....
But things just, kinda, balanced out
Twixt laughter and the fear.
Can't complain about my lot
I've scaled the mighty peaks
And paddled my old log canoe
Despite it's many leaks.
Guess it all boils down to where
Your values rest in tune
In moments of tranquility
Beneath a hanging moon.
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Nov 27, 2023
Nov 27, 2023 at 8:43 PM UTC
To the most stoical being alive,
Who acted as an asylum to the insolent offspring,
And made easy all these strives,
And gave my existence an inconcievable upswing.
He led me to the innocuous,
And made sure every ambition wasnt left astray,
Sustaining his progeny utmost congruous,
And desired us ecstatic and allay.
It wasn't as facile as the naive do think,
Despite all anguish and deprivation,
In the times he had dismay make him rethink,
But succoured me without an utter of isolation.
The real chevalier,
The benign protector,
The light hearted buoy,
And most importantly none but an adoring father.
Jan 13, 2019
Jan 13, 2019 at 10:23 AM UTC
Subtle rhymes
are my forte,
raised on Pound
& Belafonte,
succoured on Yates
& then Bukowski,
slept with earphones
tuned to Count Brodski,
the other kids
they loved me so,
for all the places
my rhymin'
dared to go,
taunting teachers,
mocking dads,
laughing at those
silly fads,
& in the playground
I would rap,
my friend Nigel
doing taps,
& as I stepped down
from the bus,
boys would cheer
& shout & fuss,
Rhyme us!
Hit us!
1, 2, 3 ...
Martin's here
all fancy free.
Mar 25, 2017
Mar 25, 2017 at 7:38 PM UTC
The more I gave
The more you wanted.
The more I succoured you to well being
The more you led me astray
I gave and gave until I couldn't give you no more.
Just like a plague ravaging a city. It was over long before it even began.
You were already gone and I was at the polar of "okay".
And the fact of the matter is I couldn't have stopped you even if I tried because what good is a wooden shed in a hurricane?
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 4:23 PM UTC