"sunder" poems
Funny how Someone can
Asunder a heart of thine
And thou still dost adore them
With all thy riven smithereens
My love, please come to me,
In my life thou dost linger
A love from my sweet past
That beamed than many a star
My love, long have I endured
A heart sundered by love
Though wherever I wander
Thy sweet love I still dost crave.
Oh my love, come back to me
So we may pick these riven pieces
That like sea waters scattered be
And I'll smoother thee with kisses
Together we'll never sunder
For my love will be thy love
Beaming so bright forevermore
As thy love will be my love
Blissfully we'll dwell ever after
Like twinkling stars in galaxies
With our enchanted passion
Effulgently lingering in perpetuity.
Jul 23, 2015
Jul 23, 2015 at 2:14 PM UTC
gun in hand
hands bound are
bound to dream
finding one seam to
rip apart
open
and leave
what are
ballots
but bullets
ready
squeeze
squeeze it
you faceless ****
you,
through teeth
gritted and
jaw working,
white knuckle
got-up
buckled up
safe
you
show me
how dirt
really tastes
because you always
ever knew that
ballots are
bullets binding
ready to
sunder
me
Sep 21, 2010
Sep 21, 2010 at 6:37 PM UTC
across the Liverpool plains
the gas exploration
goes on without
being contained
drilling is never ending
holes sunk
which invariable
cause in the farming community
a disquieting funk
Santos
cares little
for the environment's
well being
its pipeline
must garner
all the gas
in the stream
landholders and those in the green party
have banded together
to protect the agricultural lands
from the rabid abuse
which the company
will wrought on
the water table
flora
and
fauna
they cry ****
as the company
exploits
the countryside
making of it
a harlot to be pillaged
and misused
the state government
is at sixes and sevens
so many competing
interests
must be listened to
should it give
Santos
permits
to
**** and plunder
or
will
it
allow
the
broad acres
to
continue
without sunder
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 7:35 AM UTC
by what light!this pains' dismay is taught and frigid
it is the earth upholding my footfalls genial and slow
i tread and mark the soil as turning sunder:the stain
last frail and withered node of light 7fold and thrice
the hills are marching under that calamity of orange
duskish and fowling their curvaceous hide. i'm loose and tight
in folds of grass. and i walk
and i walk
and i w
a
l;
K
Nov 11, 2010
Nov 11, 2010 at 2:23 PM UTC
It used to live on the hilltop
where a lone bell tolled
by the temple:
but the Deity is long gone
and the bell mourns
in the valley wind on empty
afternoons, now.
I went searching for it:
in late summer, the koel
would sunder open the vaults
of heaven and bring
some down for us mortals
haunted by death.
The koels are long gone now.
Peace,
peace.
Lady siting silent in the evening
staring vacant into the sky,
after a day of labour:
can you give some to me?
I thought it was in education.
But that is stored now, in
almirahs where moths
eat way what humidity cannot.
I thought it was in a position.
But they don't matter, now
a ladder ascending
to nowhere,
vanishing mid-air.
Old man, smiling past hope
that has broken like
your lost teeth:
can you give some to me?
I asked the urchin
playing in the ditch after the rains,
he said: 'follow me, I know where
it lives', and he led me to
a ***** pond lined with plastic
and all our civilization's refuse,
and jumped in.
I returned, disgusted.
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 1:07 PM UTC
Sometimes I wonder, or do I wander?
Not to any particular starry night, nor down any quiet road,
But it’s all the same, if I should sunder,
For I carry a heavy load.
Consider the simple truth; ‘tis but an honest request,
That life give fruit of the yellow moon, and wholesome no less.
It creates no fruit too ripe nor produce too bitter,
Therefore nurture in spite lest fate incur.
Burden me with thought yet leave me thoughtless,
Bless me with love, yet leave me loveless.
No tender thine care, yet mine is a flower.
In bloom it is rich, yet when wilting, ‘tis dour.
So let me be, allow me to ponder,
As my feet sift the Earth and my ears the Thunder,
I’ll behold an adventure; but because I wonder or wander?
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 11:06 PM UTC
aimless caresses possess
a puissance, carelessly
purposeful, impossibly
sensual, seducing with
mercilessly sharpened
incessant desires,
releasing passionate
hisses of suspended
breaths, sweetness
of whispers, softness
of kisses slipping their
passage past *******
solar plexus,
slowly, slowly
submerging
to sunder her
senseless with
soul-shaking
consummating
surcease.
Apr 4, 2011
Apr 4, 2011 at 6:31 PM UTC
Bells that chime with malcontent
shall toll the sounds of dread.
Whistles cry with detriment;
the hour of death's ahead.
Fields are razed, and valleys hazed;
miasma shall ensue.
Mountains crumble; end of days
rides 'pon the heels of doom.
Death has come for everyone;
no cornerstone unturned.
Putrefy to purify;
with blood, your lakes shall churn.
Sanctity's naught but a dream;
rescind your factions few.
It's all for one to come undone,
and all shall burn with you.
Clouds aflame, for in His name
the sky comes thund'ring down.
And when this land rests in His hand,
He'll take our throne and crown.
Tyrant-force with no remorse;
from out the sea, He'll rise.
He leads His thrall to conquer all,
with fire in His eyes.
Apocalypse shall head the Styx;
the river shall run high.
And to the banks, you stand in ranks
and heed Lord Charon's cry,
"File in, all ye of sin."
His cackles crack the trees.
*"Thy Earth undone, my kingdom come.
Now sunder unto me."*
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 11:24 AM UTC
stone ground mustard Venus burns. She's not concerned that constant falling
and orbits, elliptical - are the same thing.
Her eyes are deaf. My eyes adapt to the pattern
that rattles the chain of events.
my Spartan theories dangle in dubiousness.
I find a trap, and call it Seattle... for i see cattle -
grazing a state of mind; north, north west of what God meant.
washing tons of pocket lint by hand.
chewing their cud
in the dark. meanwhile - outside the ranch...
My eyes refract. ***** and un-twink in the black lacquer that came -
with the oblique miracle. they sustain things that would sunder a doll-eyed bovine
to ever breach The Fence.
my hardened arteries jangle like numinous. I pine and snap ruinous barbs from Death's
prattle... for i see battle, razing the Grace of Time
more at war, than at our best. more -
bereft of what Reason defends.
tossing guns at bullets
by telekinesis.
[ undefined ]
i come from where i've never been. you were there. and ewe were there; fleeced and bleating
in the snow that fell as soon as shearing ceased. i recall, you were never there. but remember
passing you by... shilling an ocean roar you swore you'd plucked from a Seashell -
salvaged from the divine dry sockets of Poseidon's skull.
you were hawking your unawares. i played a flute made of question marks and glass drum skins.
i went where my stride was inclined, and never where i went to.
i never arrived by approaching the destination. only by always being somewhere else
till i got there. i came from where i'd never been and -
ain't been Nowhere since.
but i'm sure i pass
through There
ever since.
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 3:12 PM UTC
"Trust is the glue that holds a relationship together. Love alone is not enough. Commitment is all about trust: making a promise, a pledge, a choice to say yes to this person and no to any others, and then consistently keeping that promise. Once that pledge to commitment is broken, all bets are off. The fragile and sacred container or frame of the relationship has been violated. Trust has been broken. And broken trust is one of the most difficult dynamics to restore in relationships. Without trust, intimacy suffers. When emotional intimacy dries up, so does ****** intimacy. Defensive walls go up. Communication breaks down. Distance replaces closeness. Resentment festers. Hostility kills kindness and caring. The atmosphere turns toxic. And relationships slowly disintegrate and die."
- Stephen A. Diamond Ph.D.
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 4:03 PM UTC
1420
One Joy of so much anguish
Sweet nature has for me
I shun it as I do Despair
Or dear iniquity—
Why Birds, a Summer morning
Before the Quick of Day
Should stab my ravished spirit
With Dirks of Melody
Is part of an inquiry
That will receive reply
When Flesh and Spirit sunder
In Death’s Immediately—
1.7k
I've come to the conclusion
I am two parts of a whole
you may look at the glass half empty
or half full
sometimes it's really hard to tell
but call me a Gemini , if you will
behind closed doors
I'm either high
or low
one minute I'm soaring
& the next on the floor
one half of me
battles depression & anxiety
my thoughts are scattered inconsistently
my heart pounds in my chest
the minute you speak my name
just know I'm doing my best
trying not to go insane
other days I'm free
gliding thru the breeze
of my life
energetically speaking
the sun dances around me
against my face, glistening
but I seldom wonder
the thin wall that divides me
if I should ever sunder
two halves of a broken heart
searching for the glue that once held them part
Gemini's are twins
such like, good and evil
an angel and a demon
dancing on my shoulders
dragging me farther and farther away
so in the eyes of the beholder
I sense the middle becoming yet much colder
judgment is given on the evil side of me
I'm distant , I admit it
at times , fairly resistant
a poor trait one must receive
nothing more than a peeve
alas I did not select this trait
nor must I choose to accept it
my slump has taken its toll
I do not wish to see anything as it is but dull
I may be present and alive
yet inside, negatively drains my mind
I pray that good outweighs the unfavorable
that you may overlook how I'm unstable
my bright eyes & tinted cheeks
how I simply ignore my urge to be weak
for in that one moment
I've experienced a whole heartbeat
ultimately, there is no escaping
no path could lead me elsewhere away from thee
no debating
I am not one but two parts of a whole
one day I hope I am in control
Gemini
the twins
its me
& I am them
Dec 11, 2017
Dec 11, 2017 at 7:52 PM UTC
752
So the Eyes accost—and sunder
In an Audience—
Stamped—occasionally—forever—
So may Countenance
Entertain—without addressing
Countenance of One
In a Neighboring Horizon—
Gone—as soon as known—
1.6k
Free the tormented soul
that lives within me.
Free the monster so that
I may sunder its anger
and find my way to its
heart to ease the pain
and suffering of the
tormented soul.
Allowing me control
before its to late.
Aug 4, 2010
Aug 4, 2010 at 1:58 PM UTC
And all is well, tho' faith and form
Be sunder'd in the night of fear;
Well roars the storm to those that hear
A deeper voice across the storm,
Proclaiming social truth shall spread,
And justice, ev'n tho' thrice again
The red fool-fury of the Seine
Should pile her barricades with dead.
But ill for him that wears a crown,
And him, the lazar, in his rags:
They tremble, the sustaining crags;
The spires of ice are toppled down,
And molten up, and roar in flood;
The fortress crashes from on high,
The brute earth lightens to the sky,
And the great AEon sinks in blood,
And compass'd by the fires of Hell;
While thou, dear spirit, happy star,
O'erlook'st the tumult from afar,
And smilest, knowing all is well.
1.5k
People often say to me “I wish I could write like you.”
Which to some degree I should find humbling
But if only they knew the truth
That every time I touch the pen I'm afraid of what it might do
Behind the guise of self expression it takes possession
All defenses are torn a sunder in pain under its reign
And I am helpless to stop it
Like I would, even if I could anyway
Each tear in me is subject to its tyranny
I watch every sunset fearfully
As the veil of darkness falls
So do the castle walls
It is then that the pen will begin to possess me again
Coercing confessions of sin
However, as much I hate it
I abhor I love it more
I concede that I need it
There is a stink of distinction
Between me and this ink pen
Yet still somewhat synonymous
Whatever I hide under the surface
Determines its purpose
And it always serves it
Even if it hurts when
I bleed through this pen.
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 5:27 PM UTC
In the kingdom of Toledo,
None burn bright as thy shadow
(From time very long ago)
A tale of first lovers –
(I and D’lorme)
Loved with the love that covers
The bay of a margin sea –
In the alleys of Toledo,
None radiated well as thy shadow
(From time not so long ago)
A tale of two lovers –
(Me and D’lorme)
Claim a star that hovers
Bellow our silent sea.
In the battles of Toledo,
All dim down as thy shadow
(Of a time we know so well, long ago,)
A tale of no lovers –
(‘Who?’ And D’lorme)
Never uncovers
The wound of a sunder sea –
In the welfare of Toledo,
By a dark tinctured shadow
(To a time long so far ago)
A tale of burnt lovers --
With 'her' and D'lorme;
With blood to the clovers
Drown in our golden sea.
In the debris of Toledo,
In the murky ashes of thy shadow
(From time to past o'er ago)
The tales of one lover --
('Gone' and D'lorme)
Whom now rediscover
The loss of his love in a lament sea.
To the angels above Toledo,
None burn bright as their shadow
(Of time given so long ago)
A tale of dead lovers --
(Isbella and D'lorme)
Together soaring then hovers
To the gallant sea.
Jul 13, 2011
Jul 13, 2011 at 11:58 AM UTC
Bright must be the light that shines from within, deep and roaring with the overwhelming radiance of a thousand suns.
The fuel surges through our veins and our tried courage the ember which sets the blaze of triumph raging through the ages.
We are the light, bane of the dark.
Fear not the flames, for our valour is the blade that splits the sky a sunder, sending ripples through the very fabric of the universe for all eternity.
The great white wolf walks at our side and the raven reveals to us the route less traveled. Righteous with our every step to purge this existence of the wicked and the cruel.
Lay down beloved foe, you are forgiven.
And when it is our time to die, our death song will thunder with all the resounding clarity of a dying star.
Guardians of savage love and serine peace. Let the sweet scent of roses take you away, feel the kind sun kiss your flesh and greet death with a smile. Hello old friend I'm coming home... Victorious.
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 2:37 PM UTC
your words sound my bellsoul
a depth charge of incandescent tone
to coalesce the ground of my whisper-being
to sunder me from self-falsity
to shoe my doubting feet with fierce clarity
to walk me thus shod in cradling Truth
more deeply into the oblivion
of my ethereal dark whose web tingles and sounds
with tiny silvered bells
I am belled
sounded by Love in Love
Its deep and penetrated tone
calls back
the shards of being
I abandoned
along my lifeway
so to join me
together
c. 2017 Roberta Compton Rainwater
Nov 5, 2017
Nov 5, 2017 at 4:19 PM UTC
Consistently inquisitive,
Of phenomena greater than man,
Searching for the solutions unknown,
Intuitive is forever my brand.
What happens when man,
Reaches beyond infinite measures,
When we meet below the abyss,
When society succeeds in endeavors?
The very curiosity of being,
Makes being all the more wild,
Dreaming of the unlimited,
Exceeding our endless multiverse.
Evolution or creation,
Big bangs and natural selection,
Why blue and red turn purple,
Or hot becomes cold on an axis?
A whipper asking why,
To questions that wallow in sunder,
We contain desires to seek the truth,
But will always be left to wonder
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 3:02 AM UTC
There is a fine line between love and hate
I walk that line with you
Hand in hand, looking into your glass eyes.
Eyes so blue...eyes so cold
Hands that are warm but not kind
A heart much too cruel
A mind blinded by a false truth...
A soul..your soul...is left to wander in anguish.
Along its way, it scatters the foolish to a sunder.
No sound of desperate despair from their quavering lips..
But tear drops never the less.
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 9:49 PM UTC
Here, at the end of all things,
beyond, the grasp of hope
we have reached, and here it shall end
though all now is lost, I'm glad
that you lie with me, and lend
courage, at the fall of evil, but of us also
A fool's hope was what brought us here
over desolation and the edge of fear
where the realms are of the dead
the stars are strange and the clouds black
yet a new sun rises in times ahead
as we lie here, at the end of all things
A fallen friend, a broken dream
a mighty wood, a gurgling stream
sunder us from that far off home
a memory of another life, that was lost somewhere,
on the road that led ever onwards, but did not fail
as it passed through war and mighty horde
a promise grew, but no oath was laid
many mighty deeds, were trivial made
for what was to be won, was beyond all
fear, concealed in some remote corner
of a soul festering with gloom
in the search for the steps of doom
finding which,we now broken lie
at the end of all things
Over the sea the gulls cry
making the heart restless, for it cannot hope
to find healing,in the land of its torment and
over the sea the gulls fly, ever westward
therein alone lies deliverance, the grey shores are calling
where the dawn is silver, they are ever singing
of the end of evil, and in welcome
to those of us, staring at the door
the Undying Lands lie before, unseen by the mortal eye
revered in all the Elder lore
There the eagles bid us to go, into the uttermost west
Where though we may be whole again, we cannot forget,
we who were there, but were not slain
at the end of all things
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 12:54 PM UTC
O old Gods who wait in morrow, let me shine in sacred sorrow
I proffer, and offer, my marrow, bone, flesh, to thine altar borne,
lone in meeting, only fleeting, silent here for duty sworn
My old Gods who sit in waiting, might I power just to borrow?
Only briefly you must loan me the magic to sunder torn.
Weak and trembl’ng, weak to muster, I sought courage, but I crumble,
at the sight of just thy vision, for to me it seems e’er unseen
naught to know but thy own master ‘til I patient, sorely lumber
wondering if fear has stolen me to thine own sacred meadow
when suddenly, fervently see thine true shape and face and form and
terrible dreams enter my soul e’er to stay and e’er to fecund
for death I prefer to understanding the truth our Gods have shunned.
Yet little more did I then speak among the dead and too the meek,
falling towards an abyss so deep that makes my heart and soul weep
dying truly like a phantom lurking in the shallows creep
and yet falling ever faster and so overwhelmed by deep
my eyes and ears saw nothing and heard nothing, not a leap
from the darkness that consumed me e’er more did I fail to seek
that which cannot only reap the dead and tear them ‘til they so reek
so sharp and pointed so it was even I could witness and speak
“Who have I wronged in this place so awful that I am gaoled oblique?
Yet can still think and ponder the widow’s peak and in vain self-wreak?”
in sacred toil among the stardust that makes us shine so mystique.
What does thou will, O lord, my lord, of more than we can ever tell?
I know it is not my duty not to know. Ask I must, ask besides
the husk of my body is yours and yet I know little of thee
by whose authority do wield such magics and more asides?
it is not plain to me what sort of horror lies ‘neath the scorched ground
so why do I? Why do I scream? Why do I see the beast in me?
The hound that hunts for those who must be slaughtered despite what else they seek
the wolf inside that hunts, rips, and tears, taken apart piece by piece
the awful sound of howling that’s for me to not and never cease
the stars themselves align to my fate fear in mind and e’er besides
‘tis here that I myself sit alone and finally soon to die.
for death I prefer to the fate our Gods have brought to us benumbed.
Dec 9, 2021
Dec 9, 2021 at 5:40 AM UTC
Roman Virgil, thou that singest
Ilion's lofty temples robed in fire,
Ilion falling, Rome arising,
wars, and filial faith, and Dido's pyre;
Landscape-lover, lord of language
more than he that sang the "Works and Days,"
All the chosen coin of fancy
flashing out from many a golden phrase;
Thou that singest wheat and woodland,
tilth and vineyard, hive and horse and herd;
All the charm of all the Muses
often flowering in a lonely word;
Poet of the happy Tityrus
piping underneath his beechen bowers;
Poet of the poet-satyr
whom the laughing shepherd bound with flowers;
Chanter of the Pollio, glorying
in the blissful years again to be,
Summers of the snakeless meadow,
unlaborious earth and oarless sea;
Thou that seest Universal
Nature moved by Universal Mind;
Thou majestic in thy sadness
at the doubtful doom of human kind;
Light among the vanish'd ages;
star that gildest yet this phantom shore;
Golden branch amid the shadows,
kings and realms that pass to rise no more;
Now thy Forum roars no longer,
fallen every purple Caesar's dome--
Tho' thine ocean-roll of rhythm
sound forever of Imperial Rome--
Now the Rome of slaves hath perish'd,
and the Rome of freemen holds her place,
I, from out the Northern Island
sunder'd once from all the human race,
I salute thee, Mantovano,
I that loved thee since my day began,
Wielder of the stateliest measure
ever moulded by the lips of man.
1.2k
Yearning for some order I notice patterns in the pavement
Racing lines, creating ties, crossing T's and dotting I's
Grainy memories collide with one another as I wonder
Pondering the source of my observant sense leaving life in sunder
Beautifully benign to me, remembering the sea of color
Yellow, red, green, purple, blue
Reeling up and down and out and through
Galavanting as I grinned, lost in patterns I felt within
Perhaps I long for those times of innocent whim
But now all I see in the patterns are flaws
Yelling their inconsistencies
Rendering my blissful thoughts impossibly apart from me
Pacing mind leaving grooves behind my eyes
Partially lost in myself, watching a slow unwind
Beckoning me closer, one step at a time
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 10:17 PM UTC