"surmount" poems
•
My love and all,
God's angel,
My refuge and comfort,
You're the home that keeps me safe,
The one who stays beside me,
Even in times of storms, you fight them with me valorously.
My bestfriend, my peace, my forever,
Life is so resplendent and sublime when you came,
Excruciation seems so easy to surmount,
For you are there with me , our love shields us from harm.
You are the firefly that visited me in my dark prison,
You’ve illumined me with your shimmering being,
An angel that wrap me with pure white robe,
You’ve enclosed me dearly,
My countenance gleam as I felt your love burning me from the inside.
Yes, I will wait my lover,
Years and years plus forever and eternity,
Even in the second life,
In the gates of heaven, in that heavenly realm,
I will wait and hold you tight forevermore,
Nothing and no one will ever take us apart,
You're the one I only love,
The one whom I will keep dearly in my heart infinitely,
The one whom I'll risk all just to keep you secure and joyous,
The one whom I will grow old with,
The one whom I will spend everlasting with,
And I love you infinity + forever,
‘Cause you are the one preordained for me, my soulmate and king.
with love <3
© Earl Jane
♥ E.J.C.S.
Nov 9, 2015
Nov 9, 2015 at 5:48 AM UTC
I think about him often
and on Father's Day, I dwell...
upon the things he gave to me
and taught me oh, so well.
I go back to those early years
when on my father's knee...
he'd give to me a special hug
and then he'd say to me:
*"...life is what you make.
Don't look for special breaks.
Keep your chin up
when the world seems doomed,
for goodness sakes.
Always keep love in your heart.
on that you'll always count.
And when you do...well..
there's no obstacle you can't surmount.
You can be, all that you want
for you have that kind of power.
You're not as fragile, as it seems
though, I see you as a flower.
Do not be afraid to love
freely, with all your heart
I will protect you always
but you must also...
those times when we're apart
That day will come along
when my body falls apart.
And then, I must be moving on
but I'll remain forever...
within your heart!"*
He left me in 2013
to go and be with God.
I knew he would someday
of course…
yet still, I find it odd...
that I can still recall his voice
from all those years ago.
And I'd just like to say that...
I listened, and I love him so!
Jun 18, 2017
Jun 18, 2017 at 12:13 AM UTC
*Have anthologized every
cerebration of mine,
finding myself snared in
dogmatic mysteries of cosmos.
My cognitive contents are
razing & vitiating,
leaving a brobdingnagian lacuna.
Striving to surmount it but,
incapable of sating the one that
domiciliates within
my èlan vital.*
Jul 22, 2015
Jul 22, 2015 at 12:01 PM UTC
If my thoughts are my eyes and my mind is Paris,
then you are my Tour Eiffel
penetrating that flat sky line of the buildings all the same uniform height, without change or dynamics,
you protrude out of the flatness, the beautiful change of scene, the epicenter, of wonder.
my wandering eyes always find you
no matter where I am, who I am with,
or what I am doing,
I can always find you above the bustling city
a separate entity
Of hope, and love, and change
Before, Paris did not have the tour Eiffel, but continued to bustle as any city does
still the city of love,
It was missing it's determining factor, it's monument that stood out from all the rest
The landmark that completed the city, that created a place of wonder to surmount all the world, a watching over every building, every garden,
every thought
The last thing I see when rest my head on my pillow,
your shining light fills me with wonder and inspiration as the moon rises in the sky: creating wishes and hope for the future
You always penetrate the corners of my mind
My shining Tour Eiffel
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 10:39 AM UTC
The air is burly
trees harvest soldiers on the line
combines, threads, manure, life--
A whole world lost amidst the flats
Saplings are the next season's
Almonds, Apples, Dates,
Waiting for food shelves and stockrooms
packed in banana boxes and given a place
They will find the plates of capitol city dwellers
They will be engorged far away from their origins
The Sierra-- oh the great plutonic mass
They are grey from age, peppered with white whiskers of snow
They are asking to be known as the interior
Pilgrims who traveled over their spines, seeking these fertile swampland
Now airstrips and dirigibles
The edges of clouds on the valley, the deserts and the mountains like folds of a book
they crackle in the sun and the skin of the earth shrinks in its gaze
Migratory birds dance in the fields, the lowly clang of bell
Bleached american flags tell us this is the land
The land of things and endless breadth
This is only California, but the majesty of it
a gem valley encased by the rocks, in silicates
A roaming place for cows, wanderers, farmers, dreams
Where the only edge of things is the mountains, saying
-Climb me, surmount me, lay me under your deeds-
Dec 14, 2018
Dec 14, 2018 at 12:26 PM UTC
Scrunch each of those toes...
feel every minuscule grain of sand.
The warm, salty wind blows;
time whips through each hand.
The sun will keep count…
leave another freckled kiss.
For each trial to surmount,
there will be a taste of bliss.
So let that long hair down.
Close those hope filled, heavy eyes.
Waves crash…retreat; hear each sound.
Let only the imagination comprise.
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 1:30 AM UTC
Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye,
And all my soul, and all my every part;
And for this sin there is no remedy,
It is so grounded inward in my heart.
Methinks no face so gracious is as mine,
No shape so true, no truth of such account;
And for my self mine own worth do define,
As I all other in all worths surmount.
But when my glass shows me myself indeed
Beated and chapped with tanned antiquity,
Mine own self-love quite contrary I read;
Self so self-loving were iniquity.
’Tis thee, myself, that for my self I praise,
Painting my age with beauty of thy days.
2.7k
We The People
Sailed the same course
Some willingly
Some by force
We The People
A document to inform
A more perfect Union
To weather any storm
No more kings
No more oppression
No taxation
Without representation
Checks and balances
And the rule of law
Mitigating injustices
Safe harbor for all
The secular trinty
President, Congress, Court
Not one above the other
Veto, fiat, tort
Our common interest
Of defense
With liberty
And justice
Our common tranquility
And general welfare
A union
With resources to share
American rights
And protection
From a despotic government
Or an insurrection
Free to worship my God
Or your God
Freedom to find God
Or deny any God
Open discourse
Speaking my mind
And yours
However unkind
Collective grievances
Peaceably petitioned
We walk together
But never threatened
To bear arms
For our security
Never being forced
To quarter unwillfully
To remain secure
In our sanctuary
Unless presented
With writ of entry
Neither held
Absent habeas corpus
Or loss of property
Unless agreed by us
Or forced to testify
To contradict our own denials
Or brought forward
In duplicitous trials
To face our accuser
In much haste
Represented by counsel
Our peers decide our fate
Not one but twelve
Examining the facts
Brought forward
But only this court acts
Reasonable recompense
For fine or bail
Cruel or unusual retribution
Shall not avail
An enumeration
Merely provides illumination
But within the penumbra
Reveals more freedom
That is self-evident
No list or count
Exists to encumber
Or restriction to surmount
A union has formed
But sacred remains the individual
The tyranny of the majority
Is not permissible
A living breathing document?
Or static words unbending?
Even as we amend
Change never ending
Open to interpretation
If you see a right
But others may disagree
There may be a fight
The spirit of intent
Is there to see
Freedom to choose
Secured by liberty
We The People
A sacred quest
We The People
No more no less
Mar 7, 2012
Mar 7, 2012 at 10:29 AM UTC
The highs and lows of living life
Occur in sweeping loops
The ups and downs of everything
Are determined by the groups
Of numbers as they glide
Across a digital display,
In rendering the parabolas
Of this game of life we play.
The winning runs of business
A sweet windfall of cash
Temptation to extend that deal
Beyond …is perhaps rash;
It may just tip the balance
Commence the start of the decline
And your parabolic plunge
Will see you quailing to divine.
How you claw your way to solvency
You sweat to make it right,
How you battle tax malignancy
To surmount official might.
The administrative penchants
Of administrative types
Who insist on crossing every “T”
And switching “OUT” the lights.
Having made it, you sit astride the top
And bask in shining light.
You cast off the cloak of caution,
Claim success as yours by right.
But by morning there’s a thunderstorm
A headache and a snag,
By lunch evicted on the street
With your belongings in a bag.
The ups and downs of life my friend
Are a parabolic coast
One day you’re sitting pretty
The next day you are toast.
The only consolation
Of this constant change of state
Is the reconstructive challenge
In re-determining your fate.
So gird yourself my beauty
Hitch your belt another notch
And launch yourself at living
Before you seek that midnight watch.
For tomorrow is a mystery
The possibilities are vast
And paradoxically speaking
The very best is usually last.
Marshalg
Mangere Bridge
20th July 2008
May 11, 2010
May 11, 2010 at 4:55 PM UTC
I look at the fairy,
And think to myself,
"I cannot comprehend how much love she pours into something.
I cannot fathom creating constellations to help her surmount her obstacles,
For she has created her own to guide her."
And here I am, sitting under an olive tree,
Watching her twirl and slip through the flimsy canopy of the forest.
Sorry Hercules, Cerberus has already been slain.
Not by us; but by her own magical knight in shining armour.
It's strange how jealous I am,
Yet I feel no envy or regret.
Okay, maybe a slight fragment of regret;
But don't worry pal, Cerberus won't be emerging from my dark depths.
It's almost like she refracts the stars' rays and creates her own iridescence.
Such a spectacular sight.
That I cannot caress nor look at for too long,
I may go blind.
And apparently love is blind.
The irony.
Well, no matter; I can still relax here on the soil,
And remain calm for she isn't going anywhere.
Right?
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 1:31 AM UTC
General.
Sir.
That is how you will identify me,
Hoorah?
I tell you what.
I am a soldier
But you?
You gotta earn your rights
To be privileged with such a title.
You get me maggot?
Fall in line, keep your lips locked.
Look me in the eye.
See any fear?
You shouldn’t, unless
It’s in your reflection.
You scrounge for this courage,
These cajones, that passion to surmount.
To get here, where I stand…
Here…
Can any of you maggots tell me
Where here is?
Anybody?
Are you even listening to me?
Where the hell are you going?
I never said at ease!
Sigh
I was an elite,
A soldier,
A leader.
Where here was the frontline.
The trenches, the beach head,
Africa, Stalingrad, O’ahu.
Now, here
Is found forgotten,
Lost in tragedy,
A false spectacle of hope,
Leaves me lost in this wicked dimension.
Clinches my soul.
Bang! Dust cover, flash
Dust cover, flash
Flash…
My senses.
Fading.
Into this abyss.
Leaving me here.
A ghost.
A spirit.
Please…
Bury me a soldier
Nov 20, 2011
Nov 20, 2011 at 12:54 PM UTC
Pounding is my chest
Is the heart that you awoke
Fires of muted lust
If you feed the flame
The blaze will rise and conquer
The sane part of me
But where have you gone?
I'm waiting for your arms now
Hopelessly in love
One night in Heaven
Can't surmount your tried deceit
You don't want me now
Away from the calm
Memory of deserted beach
I am still alone
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 7:22 AM UTC
He is a man in fact , a factual man in fact
But in fact more than man, and more natural
He is a predator, sometimes ****** endeavourer
Jumping as a feather stead upon my weathered bed
Lead at the head but it's heavier
A best of a beast, in his chest at least
A lion's heart beats, and with mine at his feet
He is deadlier
Mane across his back, mainly manly, manly knack
And a pride to admire any crazy track
Mired by those paws or clawed back
Lion's share of the hair and a siren's glare
Its enough to ensnare any to come back
To lie in the den and unpack
A purr that can stir dwelling spell in gazelles
A roar that could ensure his reign is obtained on every plain
If called for
His face is made heeding, and bleeding the sun
His legs win a race never needed to be run
Already won
Prowl and it's done
If he who rides the tiger finds it difficult to dismount
Than he who rides the lion will feel him sure surmount
No doubt, for nobility is paramount
Alpha is better beyond count, couched in whim
And he reigns as King of the jungle I grew for him
King of all that's funnelled through to him
King of all that humbles me and truly sings
And so
Clearly success best rests in
Being a lioness, not left guessing lionless
A carnivorous, blitherous, tyrant's guest
In fact I am a woman, a natural woman in fact
And factually I am a woman intact
Yet in fact a woman distracted on a lion obsessed tract
Where a leonine mess is lacked
And a lion-like chests interact
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 2:43 PM UTC
All talk no action
Accountability
not even a fraction
Surmount humility
Profound inaction
Abound rigidity
Tall walk short stature
The American way
Work force pays for the
CEOs big payday
Do as I say
Not do as I do
Under the guise of
"we want to improve"
It's so easy to see
their ego's fragility
with the words they use
Jul 5, 2023
Jul 5, 2023 at 6:21 PM UTC
Slave of doubt
today you're nothing,
if you don't surmount it,
tomorrow will be the same.
Sep 6, 2016
Sep 6, 2016 at 3:12 AM UTC
Blast it!
We've put our eggs
in the wrong basket,
and now Little Liberty has dropped them.
She's dropped them.
She's dropped them!
She certainly did,
She dropped them!
Each egg splits, cracks, breaks,
all despite Liberty's bleeding
colors. Faded, young
hatching prematurely;
before their time.
Liberty heard her love-
boyish ruckus in The Bush.
Hurriedly she did run;
giving all her aide.
Unfortunately, careless Liberty did not see:
All our eggs are handled irresponsibly.
Soon after little Liberty's Bush date,
she saw what she could only surmount to fate:
Poster slapped to said Holy Tree,
plastered with Allah's face.
Hating those jihadist anyway,
Ignorant Liberty unloaded her bounty-
upon the sacred man's face.
It took a while
till Liberty thought,
looking down,
but by then,
we all thought it all too late.
But ,Little Liberty being supreme,
(totally Grade A,)
finally remembered to put the lid down.
Ah, now that should seal our fate,
her reasoning as she bounced and pranced away.
But just before she reached her people,
her sickness burst,
her pride was shook,
she couldn't show her face.
Afraid of what her people might say-
she reopened said lid, state of panic
flipped the basket promptly 'round.
All the little eggs crumbling to the ground.
Babies dispersed;
Children burnt and broken;
not to mention all the vital yolk;
nasty stuff and what a mess-
now onward to face my people.
But all is well;
she gives her spiel
about the alleged evil-doers.
People line-up,
hypnotized-
ready to give their last;
service, duty, and loyalty too
all for Little Miss Liberty.
Quite the siren, ain't she?
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 10:50 PM UTC
A Volunteer
A volunteer does believe in the patriotic spirit but serves
Carrying gun powder in his body excels to be so great
Wants to surmount all hurdles and hardships on nerves
Under adverse conditions is ready to portray, ameliorate
A volunteer with all his sincerity wants to climb Siachin
Without taking but his health and condition in to account
To remain away from his duty he considers crime, a sin
His real duty is not to stop in the way but just to surmount
Duty is hallmark of excellence this is what he learnt, knows
God is with him in his wonderful and valiant struggle, pursuit
On every step he seeks help from God and submits, bows
Allah looks after him bears his courageous efforts with fruit
Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2017 Golden Glow
Aug 17, 2017
Aug 17, 2017 at 8:25 AM UTC
Come walk through the grains with me
Sand shimmering like stars
Constellations of symmetry
See them join and split apart
Come watch over new stars with me
Sparks dancing in our eyes
Starlight like you could never see
Make our home among the skies
Come paint these skies blue with me
Hide and seek between the clouds
Dive right into a stormy sea
Roam unseen depths darkness enshrouds
Come make mountains move with me
Paint monumental worlds
A playground of pure fantasy
Watch your minds power unfurl
Come and wander this world with me
Adventure awaits the bold
Surmount a cliff or climb a tree
What mysteries do cities hold?
Come fly to the stars with me
Let's make this journey never end
I'll be the boat to your sea
All you will need is a pen
Feb 14, 2018
Feb 14, 2018 at 8:07 AM UTC
We yelled and staggered on
We stumbled and many fell
Detained in the perplexity
No respite as danger pursued
The ordeal ensued when
In the midst of clout struggle
The insurgents took up weaponry
Determined to surmount a dictator
That morning bewilderment originated
Helter-skelter we escaped for safety
Sad enough bullets out ran some
Especially as cross fires existed
We saw our Kinsmen reach for the ground
As though caught only with fatigue
But bullets indeed penetrated some
They lay motionless as we lurched on
Struggling to God knows where,
We knew not our course
No worst thing existed for us
Like the cross fires we were trapped in.
One by one we began to die that day
Randomly death swallowed us up,
While power mongers persisted
Fired projectiles missed targets for us.
We ran frantically in seek for safety
Recognizing us as restless victims,
The insurgents mercilessly began to
Extinct us with great delight
‘No one is surviving the assault
What do I do?’ I pondered hastily
‘Shall we all face our demise this way?
No, I’ll live’ I determined
Kinsmen had long fallen to rise no more
This fact gave me impetus to survive
To live and tell the story of the cross fires
History of the fallen most be told to posterity
Inspiration came to me at once
I unyieldingly fell down as one lifeless
Spilled, oozing blood entwined me
The killers shoot till no one stood
Everyone lay motionless in a stack
I lived however not too sure yet
The cross fires persisted for long
That at one point I envied my kinsmen
Finally, calm was reluctantly returning
The government militia advanced
The insurgents had not a choice
But to retreat in dread of superior artillery
We had unfortunately advanced towards
The insurgents that we became the target
Of the artillery that was meant to shield us
Blames on the wrong tactics by the militia
Abounded as calm was retained in days
But I had a story to tell of the cross fires.
May 17, 2013
May 17, 2013 at 11:17 AM UTC
As evolution jumped from eon to eon,
the foundational hunger to remain
surpassed all bounds this great celestial
has ever witnessed in its cosmic disturbance.
How must Mars and Jupiter, these stars in the sky
view the deep blue that flooded the desolate,
a clump of collected debris basking in the ultraviolet,
unable to resist the presence of life, ever-so unwanted
and needless to exist? For our neighbors in the sky,
glancing our way in their soulless façade,
they gossip to their peers about the news over here,
the autumnal shift from emerald to bronze,
willows who wept in the heat of summer days,
dandelions dotting the ridges of a rolling hillside,
at times dipping their toes in the whispering waters
of a backyard creek caressing the moss
atop smooth and shimmering stones.
From nothing you surged as entropy evermore,
and from everything you share your entities,
the very body you call your own, the breath
you maintain in this cyclical palindrome;
as mere extensions of the singularity’s core,
you find yourself in this position of awe,
gazing at the consequences never meant to be seen.
How fortunate we are to find ourselves here
in a sea of tumultuous chaos, conscious and
ever-so present in the discovery of knowledge.
To look to the past through a tubular lens
and remain unknowing of time’s present state,
the physical probabilities of potentials unforeseen
bending the rays of time to juxtapose new and old;
reality remains a pervasive illusion
evading the grasps of human cognition. Our
consciousness supersedes the premise of us all,
but our curiosity quivers in the breath of the
meaningless; how could something so rare
and inconceivable surmount to nothing more
than the imminent emergence of an empty abyss?
We must never misjudge the reign of the cosmos,
lose all hope that nothing awaits --
this I will not believe.
From nothing I surged as entropy evermore,
and from everything I share my entities,
the very body I call my own, the breath
I maintain in this cyclical palindrome;
as mere extensions of the singularity’s core,
I find myself in this position of awe,
gazing at the consequences never meant to be seen.
Mar 6, 2024
Mar 6, 2024 at 3:22 AM UTC
My window has no seat, why would it? I wish it did.
There is just a glossy magnolia ledge, barely wide enough to
cater a slender bottom. Upon the ledge books and candles
rest, illuminating the murk outside. Directly opposite orchard
trees recede as I welcome autumn with a zealous smirk.
For now faintly visible between their visceral arms are the
all-seeing hillocks that in winter will dominate my view.
An impartial observer once stated they were mere freckles
on the landscapes recumbent spine, but to me their sight alone
is vertiginous. On balmy April days I would surmount them,
a personal expedition, up there where I’m the valleys curator, wearing
pristine white gloves I meticulously unravel the terrain: an ancient
manuscript, the vellum inked with meandering streams, occasional farms,
cursive hamlets and little else - a land of sobriety and dearth.
In November though there is a permanent mist and its source
inexplicable. Does it simply effervesce from the precipitous tors about?
Is it the villager’s enshrined collective sigh? No it is something
more. Sitting atop the villages head it’s the beloved satin bonnet you
wore religiously as a child. Wholly impractical for this season
its gossamer fabric offers little solace or insulation to those below
as its pleated extremities elope with the moss-brown hinterland.
Fervently stoking their hearths the villagers broaden the
ethereal cloth with a smoke not acrid but satisfying and nourishing:
with a terrifically edible, hardwood flavour. From my hillock
vantage, the sanguine stone of the manorial chimneys is all that
penetrates the film; casually they release torrents of smoke like
ivory doves that weft patterns instinctively into the sky’s pallid damask.
©Thomas Gabriel
Dec 9, 2011
Dec 9, 2011 at 6:00 PM UTC
I saw you the first time at my minimum wage job.
Vibrant and curly.
Every moment started slowing down
and as I counted the minutes you faded away.
With a big beautiful smile of course.
But no longer there.
Then after you left my sight
another image persisted.
One of you walking back into my store.
Nothing more.
But this image was long out of reach.
The second time I saw you I forgot to get your number.
I consider myself a fool for this,
but you were still standing
and looking at me.
Absolutely straight into my eyes.
I could hardly make your sandwich.
The eyes of my throbbing soul.
Without the hustly bustle of my own mentality,
I would have taken you to Mars right then and there.
With all your curly hair.
And all your ******* smiles.
My earnings for the biweekly pay
couldnt surmount the glory
that is your absolute stunningness.
Dec 11, 2013
Dec 11, 2013 at 8:13 PM UTC
I learned fear watching a twenty-something white man with three goody-goody sons and a wife of a teacher or maybe a teacher of a wife sermonize on hell clothed in the black cassock I imagine death decreed all pastors should wear in reverence to the end-all be-all. fear was realizing that all your friends that shared the same skin color were bound to hell by an omnipotent and benevolent and above all merciful god who couldn't tolerate any dissent. we were children, we were taught, didn't Jesus love children best of all?
I grew up, and then it wasn't just my friends who shared my skin color; no none of my friends believed in a higher power at all, and I was unsure I did.
but fear of eternity in hell kept me devout and that was when I learned that there was something worse than hell, there was heaven. how could I be happy without the people I loved? would God make me forget all about them? how could you be perfectly happy in a utopia with no problems to surmount? how could an eternal God judge mortal crimes so harshly? and then I realized that not even people who had dedicated their lives to preaching the word of god knew why God would allow it. I heard ******** arguments that hell was God's last great mercy, allowing those who did not believe in him to not have to be near him for eternity; I didn't believe them for a second. people are full of **** but only because god created us in his image.
Sep 20, 2013
Sep 20, 2013 at 3:54 PM UTC
I under stand!
_______________
<>
perhaps I do
not fully,
understand,
but nonetheless,
*I under stand!
Legs locked,
shoulders set,
eyes ahead straight,
mouth firmly wavering,
range bound, between
a back n’ forth,
from grimace
to smile resolute,
my support promised,
here beneath,
is where I am,
you, set upon
my frame,
capable~able,
you, for,
to surmount,
overcome,
rise above,
see farther,
vision clearer,
any troubling
fray and say!
I am risen,
with help
of friends,
to place
my reach
never touched,
or exceeded…
until now!*
2:34 pm
***walking on the beach,
musing, scheming, always,
writing, grabbing words
from sea breezes,
and gusts that
order plain:
now, now,
now!
is the
time,
to share
that load***
May 26 2024
May 26, 2024
May 26, 2024 at 2:46 PM UTC
Narcissists
All of us
That crawl the saturated cyberspaces
Howling like shriveled
Infants doomed to die
In the womb, unheard
Be my friend
Follow me
Like me
Quote me
Share me
Favorite my poems
Repeat my tweets
Rank my posts high
Comment on even
The vaguest written word
Subscribe to my channels
Connect to my feeds
Stumble upon
My tumbled thoughts
And filtered photographs
Do you know who I am?
No really. I'm not angry.
Just...do you?
Because I am afraid
I'm afraid you never will.
I scream until my lungs
Collapse upon themselves
But still the shrieking noises
Around me, voices
Surmount my shouts.
I demand your attent
I deserve your loyalty
For no earned reason
Other than
I exist
I am Me.
And who are you exactly?
Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 9:48 PM UTC