"symbolise" poems
Australia takes her pen in hand
To write a line to you,
To let you fellows understand
How proud we are of you.
From shearing shed and cattle run,
From Broome to Hobson's Bay,
Each native-born Australian son
Stands straighter up today.
The man who used to **** his drum",
On far-out Queensland runs
Is fighting side by side with some
Tasmanian farmer's sons.
The fisher-boys dropped sail and oar
To grimly stand the test,
Along that storm-swept Turkish shore,
With miners from the west.
The old state jealousies of yore
Are dead as Pharaoh's sow,
We're not State children any more —
We're all Australians now!
Our six-starred flag that used to fly
Half-shyly to the breeze,
Unknown where older nations ply
Their trade on foreign seas,
Flies out to meet the morning blue
With Vict'ry at the prow;
For that's the flag the Sydney flew,
The wide seas know it now!
The mettle that a race can show
Is proved with shot and steel,
And now we know what nations know
And feel what nations feel.
The honoured graves beneath the crest
Of Gaba Tepe hill
May hold our bravest and our best,
But we have brave men still.
With all our petty quarrels done,
Dissensions overthrown,
We have, through what you boys have done,
A history of our own.
Our old world diff'rences are dead,
Like weeds beneath the plough,
For English, Scotch, and Irish-bred,
They're all Australians now!
So now we'll toast the Third Brigade
That led Australia's van,
For never shall their glory fade
In minds Australian.
Fight on, fight on, unflinchingly,
Till right and justice reign.
Fight on, fight on, till Victory
Shall send you home again.
And with Australia's flag shall fly
A spray of wattle-bough
To symbolise our unity —
We're all Australians now.
3.5k
The bubbles in a coke bottle
Oh how much they symbolise
Our torn, broken relationship
It makes me want to cry
Just as those same bubbles
Float to the top and quickly burst
So too you were with our relationship
Your true side finally emerged
Just as those bubbles
cling to the sides, so transparent
So too did you cling to my money
Your real intentions always apparent
Just as those bubbles
Can cause the bottle to explode
So too you affected my heart
As the gaping wounds you left, they moan
Just as those bubbles
Cause the liquid to fizzle and crack
So too you hear my skin tearing
As you leve the word "heartbroken"
Etched into my back
Just as those bubbles
Once popped can never return
So too now that you're gone
My heart's lesson can finally be learnt
Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 8:16 AM UTC
Rose:
"Dandelion,
how dare you grow in my bed!
Only I have the privilege of feeding on this nutrient rich soil,
created for me, me alone!
You have no right to make your home here!
My keeper will pull you out of the ground
and dispose of you like the **** you are."
Dandelion:
"Rose,
I've just as much right to grow as you do!
Why do you insult me?
Am I not a flower just like you?"
"Dandelion,
you're a common garden ****
I'm beautiful, admired by all who set eyes upon me.
My keeper feeds and carefully prunes my body.
She admires my soft velvety petals which are the deepest red.
My stem, so slender, my prickles tempting, dangerous.
I'm beauty and pain in perfect harmony.
You can admire, but do not touch!"
"Rose,
I'm beautiful in my own way,
don't you see?
My yellow petals, the colour of golden sunshine.
I symbolise the sun, moon and stars;
I'm also resilient.
I've no carer to look after me, yet I still manage to flourish,
even in the toughest of places."
"Dandelion,
your time will be short in this place!
There's no room for your commonness here.
I'm a special breed, you're ******
"Rose,
I know my fates sealed,
I accept the situation for what it is;
Beauty's in the eye of the beholder.
What you don't realise,
we'll suffer the same fate!
You'll end your days
standing in a vase filled with water.
My death will be quick;
Yours prolonged!
In the end,
your beauty will be your downfall!"
Sep 20, 2016
Sep 20, 2016 at 5:13 AM UTC
We said our vows
in front of a crowd
of well wishers
and family.
We moved in
as husband and wife
and started a life
not in sin but love.
How quickly love turns sour
our wedding rings
they came to symbolise
flings and lies.
How quickly love dies.
The ring now just a band
of cold gold encompassing
a finger filled with hate.
A poison ring,
no longer are we yin to yang.
Yet the upswing to this decline
is that I watch the crystalline water
on a recliner, paid for by your life
Insurance.
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 2:46 PM UTC
My summer sweats bloom from a grass rag,
Scratch another hardly blasting out a calibrate,
Can I break, strap out hacker doozy bluemoors,
Caught from an out sound, an out frowned
Blackening the coffin sweet cough lubricate,
Shackle high tops on pipe dream loft shakers,
Clover feelers, four hitter on lucky seven collar,
Depth sin protector, **** I ain't wrath looter,
Nor do poppa sizes on some puke lips locker,
Key switch for gates hellish donor, back loner,
Course you see, I seek seep suckled *****
Not some subtle soul (gap in skirt) poker,
Forever reaching lines, bust knuckle lifters,
Cracked rage like Nile is flooding wealths curlers,
Jewel duplicate for ruby cuts on roofless lust,
Symbolise another and I'll grabble force an honour,
Sober up soppy crotch rummage coper,
Scan cell prison ament Scholar's "repent!"
Mace battle X axel swop blunt round passel,
Cost more on pepper rubber rock relation,
Patient prep operation, cramp dilation,
Dial engage **** sudden blocked injection.
Cast nocturnals ominous above monuments,
Men fall like weak's race for joy's division,
Attend pro's vision, pure as skies probations,
Pack pampers protection tracks premonition,
Flat lines before lap times, clenching half rhymes,
Hop hotter than blues croft in dusks knots,
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 2:21 PM UTC
I WANT YOU TO LISTEN BEFORE YOU FEEL.
I
Congratulate
You.
...
I understand now
That I am not
and she is neither
and nor are you.
In Life
is Man,
Woman
and
Money.
And I am disgusted
with my own state of affairs.
I am a HYPOCRITE,
(YOU COULD BE WORSE )
that a rat that is not a part of a the race
has a better chance of virtue.
I am not unique but
part of the equation of nature
for a upon a time in history
I was a "FEATHERLESS BIPED"
just as a chicken awaiting
the process of
the roast.
YET
upon death and decay,
if I am not in history
as a statue to symbolise
immortality.
I
will no longer
be MAN
but a CREATURE
with bones undistinguishable from
my kind.
These words are of a man
man that has nothing
to him and his time
but a chance to reflect on life's
greatest EQUATION
of meaning.
These are the words of the man
that lives like dog
he dares to speak his mind
a man we question his existence and purpose
we call mad, insane and a savage.
His words will never shake you
if you question
WHY HE DARES TO SPEAK IF HE IS NOTHING?
Were you truly listening?
Question.
Would you lend an ear
to a
A man that lives like a dog
or
A Man that lives in concrete
bubble?
I want you to Think beyond the concrete bubble
you call safe.
MAN + WOMAN x MONEY(NATURE)=...............
whats your equation like?
©Hansmind, 2018
Mar 4, 2018
Mar 4, 2018 at 9:07 AM UTC
I watched you entering the room
Out the window of the second floor.
I walked down the stairs soon,
And met you to surprise you more.
Only lit candles on the table, no lights
And a red rose, to symbolise passion.
I wanted to have a romantic night,
To apologise for my actions.
Looking surprised, you made no sound,
But I guessed you were happy.
A nice melody in the background,
A smile on your face ; just you and me.
I walked in from behind you,
Made no noise and took you in my arms.
I said "Good evening", you said "I love you",
We kissed, no harm.
We ate face to face, alone and together
Staring right at each other's eyes
Me who wanted to make everything better,
Brighter colours were now in the skies.
I'd rented a movie, we watched it on my bed
Not until the end because, well, we're in love.
We cuddled, we kissed, no words need to be said,
I bet jealous angels watched us from above.
They say romantic nights are the best,
I can not say it's not true
But for my personal interest,
It's the little things that make me love you.
Apr 8, 2012
Apr 8, 2012 at 3:25 AM UTC
Happiness to me is looking so fragile, so tiny
Hollowed out
Saggy jeans
Sharp protruding hip
bones that make me grin when I peek at my reflection in the mirror
Twig like legs
The visible spine on my back once covered by
flesh that has since disappeared
The glorious collar bones how they symbolise control of the self, superiority, victory
Counting my ribs when I lightly breathe in
The veins on my hands how they encourage me to keep restricting
The voice embedded in my head with her constant whispers - Just a little more and you'll be perfect - she lies It's never enough
The stares, how I love to hate them... the more stares the more sick I look proof that perfection is within my reach
I am forever feeling faint, drained, disoriented and always near collapsing
Hunger gnawing away inside of me
And yet this feels like success
The shackles keep getting tighter the older I get
Binding me and blinding me with
My disorder beats me into nothing
Sleep is no longer an escape, Even in my dreams it's still there... Tormenting me
This treacherous debilitating
illness
My mind is not my own anymore
It took everything from me to the point where most nights I am unsure if I will wake up in the morning
I'm still here, fighting the
fight and that counts
The elusiveness of recovery
The complication of it
How I never will, recover
I will always be haunted
Warped fleshy perceptions
Dangerous methods
Grave consequences
Oct 19, 2013
Oct 19, 2013 at 7:12 AM UTC
My mother always told me to salute you,
With a brisk striking motion with my hand from the head,
The first time I ever saw you,
You lowered your head and bowed to me.
You have been despised for years I told,
For hanging around battlefields and gallows long ago,
Disturbing people with your chattering call,
When from a distance heard is unmistakable.
One morning you perched on my garden fence,
The eye in the sky shone buoyant and bright,
I was surprised you didn’t shoot off,
When the patio door slid open.
But elegant you perched on my garden fence,
I tiptoed towards you tentative and slow
And stopped and looked into your brown eyes,
I never thought I would get so close.
I stroke your velvet textured head,
My long finger tickles your oily white bust,
Your two tone colour mystifies me,
A cross between a crow and a dove.
My mother always told me you symbolise,
Bad nuns, bad priests made visible again.
You shoot off and my superstition dies –
No need to salute Magic Bird, chatter-pie.
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 7:33 PM UTC
when i used to see you around
i would get sad thinking of how,
both of us had gone off and found,
other friends, we were different people now
but i have come to realise
the hilarious adventures we had
they were truly meant to symbolise
that our time together was anything but bad
no matter if it came to its demise
when i now look back through our days
i will smile, and no longer tend to fantasize,
about 'what if' we hadn't gone our separate ways,
no more will i be unsatisfied, with the casual hi's, the hugs and waves
for now you and i both
we are happy where we are
forgotten is our age-old sworn oath
for then we were only kids, who rode in the same bumper car,
who shared that last chocolate bar,
and i know not, whether you think of me
in the way that i do
did i ever mean that much to you?
i'd like to believe its true,
but either way,
what we used to have will never die away
for those special memories that we wove,
i keep them in a small but cherished treasure trove.
♥
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 8:46 AM UTC
Knowledge is now very simple
Single word questions
And answers in a breath.
Knowledge is now aplenty
Evenly cut pieces of bread
Within easy reach of the laziest
Then why do you
Lift your eyebrows
When forty line answers are spit out
For question that won’t hold in four lines.
The Thaj Mahal is not a wonder, its snobbery
The vain argument goes on.
From the other lone
This lone doesn’t look greener
but only a funeral patch
You are argue with yourself
And throwing a set of fruitfulness question:
Why the evening’s rosiness nestles in the snake bird’s eyes?
Where does the garden lizard leave its memory for a while?
When did the owl start cleaning the day’s dirt to end the night?
Who feeds the pair of rabbits on the moon without fail?
In what soft tones does the ant whisper secrets to its mate?
In which impoverished month did the white ants burp and wipe their lips
Who wrenched the cricket’s courage that they make such noise?
Why can’t the **** wake up the neighborhood without loosing its sleep?
Why can’ t the peacock break its contract with the rain clouds?
From where did the fox gain its cunning?
Which river entered the forest, fighting the sea?
Why war, floods, poverty, quakes?
In word : God’s fury.
Look how simple knowledge is,
Beautiful in its commonness.
Still you argue
You swear
What met isn’t knowledge
Nor the way to knowledge
Then of what
Does it symbolise?
Tell me in a word.
======
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 1:53 AM UTC
An evening set in metered rhyme,
of pinecones, gainfully bracted
in the manner of spiralling time.
No perfect measure yields a woody cone
although conifer strobilus gilded ratio makes.
The standard mesh of numbers alone
symbolise a hope that a glorious God
assembled in a perfect factory line,
this defiant change to perfectly flawed.
Aug 24, 2021
Aug 24, 2021 at 9:36 AM UTC
Transient summers,
Forbidden Bluebell fields,
Tough times symbolise the pouring of ales.
Manicured lawns,
Cider drinking Saturdays,
Routine discussions about the sun and rain.
Hijinx down the watering hole,
The great unwashed congregating on Market Day,
Smog penetrating the lungs,
Forlorn eyes, social decay.
Leaders of austerity,
Riddled with oppressive policies,
The tedious endurement of the morning commute.
Sirens cut across Westminster,
A quintessential rave anthem,
Boxing Day sales,
Sheer pandemonium.
Revelling in satire,
And curtain twitching,
Reading racists newspapers,
Disenfranchised youth.
Icky dance floors with raging hormones,
Breath heavy with hops and acrid tobacco.
**** drops and winding waists,
Ladies bathroom, evil eyes exchanged.
Sundays spent hanging,
And Mondays depressed,
Holy communions,
Cladded in your best dress.
Suppressed thoughts,
And baited breath
An Albion filled with oppression and dread.
Sep 11, 2017
Sep 11, 2017 at 7:08 PM UTC
He did not upon the coffin place a wreath,
to do so, he felt, would have been obscene.
His wreath, instead, was just a metaphor
to symbolise the life that once had been;
a memorial to spirit that remained
and not a talisman of something pre-ordained.
The years had been filled with inconstant strife
to enter the parnassus of an exalted life
Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 5:07 PM UTC
Oooo, you lefty?
we've got a little Marxy
you ain't gonna get started
while diplomacy remains true hearted
we're wingers of right values
ain't wingers of wrong values
you better be beat, you you're beat, we'll keep you with no powers
community
Epicurys cury calmy
I was trying to tell my mum but she was working all these hours
Breaking broken feet on a floor below the towers
food banks feed some beans with beans
and beans on beans are tasty
especially on zero hours so that half the time I'm lazy
but why you so complacent when there are zero hours
The monachy with queens and kings
prancing in balmory
a smile, a wave, hey you behave,
are you doing enough for me
300 million, the crown is surely worthy?
a worthless hunk of metal junk to symbolise we're steardy
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 9:39 AM UTC
High in the mountains the sunlight is hitting the snow
stillness turns to sound
White becomes crystal as water's beginning to flow, man, flow
seeking level ground
There stands a man with a hand to his ears
He is trying to learn from the water he hears
And he's watching it flow, he is wanting to know
what it means to him, but
Maybe this time a song about a river
is just about a river,
would that be so strange?
Water runs deep but it also runs shallow
and I dig the shallows today
Racing through highlands as if no tomorrow will come
time goes for a ride
The more that it carries the slower the water will run and run
flowing deep and wide
There stands a woman who can't get across
She is sad at the thought of the speed it has lost
And her hearts starts to stir, there is meaning for her
She is sure there is, but
Maybe this time a song about a river
is just about a river, would that be so strange?
Water runs deep but it also runs shallow
And I dig the shallows today
And you are a symbol, my love
You symbolise yourself to me
The stars are like the stars above
and the ocean's like the sea
I only want surfaces
let me believe my eyes
Finally losing identity, reaching the shore
watch what happens then
Water evaporates, flies to the mountains to pour and pour
all begin again.
Feb 16, 2011
Feb 16, 2011 at 10:13 AM UTC
I continuously find the same questions
Fill up my mind like fish in the sea,
These fish symbolise the world I knew once
The one that created me.
And my troubles seem to circle me back here,
To the place I have grown to hate.
A place that serves no need now,
The redirection of my fate.
I can keep spluttering out words,
Meaningless, to us both.
But when I try to tell you the truth,
This agony fills my throat,
I'm searching for an explanation,
One, I know that you now yearn.
But I can't fake tears like these,
And that's something I've grown to learn.
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 5:44 PM UTC
Your tread has become dreary,
Heavy and weary;
You have forgotten why you walk.
Long ago,
You stepped on your once innocent, Brightly burning wick,
Obliviously,
Until it was out,
Cold and buried,
Many feet underneath the dull landscape
You now walk across.
You have forgotten how to see;
Your eyes have sunk
Into the recesses of your thoughts.
They jump from light to light,
Like a frantic moth,
Following instincts yet unaware
Of its own light,
Its senses hammered
By its impulses.
You taste only extremes,
Overindulge in fanciful delights;
Your tongue gets drunk,
Then passes out,
Your mind convinced it has tasted
Satisfaction
And nothing more can be
Or is required.
You have forgotten yourself,
Your colourful visions,
Your raw sensations,
Your honest perceptions.
You have forgotten your
Uncontaminated,
Uncorrupted,
Uninfluenced yearnings.
The clouds that once beckoned you,
Taking your mind for a spin
With an outpour of
Tingling excitement,
Have come to symbolise
The nondescript background
Against which your silent struggle
Unfolds into
Nothing in particular.
Dec 17, 2018
Dec 17, 2018 at 9:38 AM UTC
pidgeon
a test of self recognition.
A pidgeon holed soul,
in the dead of night,
left in the cold
to navigate through the night.
The hand that rocks the dovecotes,
armed to the teeth,
As they glide through at an altitude,
to find a relief.
My family sings from the trees.
Not me amore,
not me.
Some seek (sikh) reason
and some sing (singh) religion,
but the Guru has my back;
in these cuckoo times.
It feeds my beliefs.
I’ll symbolise peace,
Whilst you impeach the president.
I’ll deliver the message,
whilst you question the sentiment.
You are sitting in my spot love,
Rock dove,
derived lies from the questions we look above to find the answers.
Bobbing your head at the answers,
from those chancers in churches,
with sermons of purpose to scratch there backs and the surface.
Empty your pockets and empty your purses.
The worst is yet to come.
The mirror test my reflection.
The depths of inception.
Did I forget to mention the depth of deception,
i’ve drowned in daydreams,
from the gospels of deities;
so the story’s sold,
worldwide;
in different religions.
A thousand omnipresence beings,
but an insistance on only one who’s the holy one.
Unless you hit a hole in one,
lucky it seems,
It simply means,
a few billion ‘believers’
are on the wrong team.
Whatever way the pigeon flies tonight,
by default one of you is wrong, and one of you’s right.
I don’t believe in anything I can’t see in the daylight.
Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 3:17 PM UTC
Roses symbolise her appearance,
but deep beneath her façade lies a poisonous pest.
Society.
Jun 6, 2017
Jun 6, 2017 at 10:15 AM UTC
Deep red with velvet carpet
Steals every single heart
Deep rose with layered velvet
Feels like spongy soft and smooth
Dew drops on red velvet
Looks as crystal stone on it
Keep freshness with such sight
And fills us with much of zest
Gentle breeze on rosy petals
Bring pleasant fragrance as sweets
When light falls on red velvet rose
Bring deep colour which looks so nice
Deep red colour in every heart
Fills much joy in every part
With just one sight on it
Every heart peep again on it
Whispers to pluck in every mind
As it gives feeling of a dream land
Like a magician’s wand
It is a pleasing velvet band
Felt deep inside in every heart
Like loud music in every beat
Gave exciting memories beside
And bring great feelings inside
Velvety layer goes in every mind
To have a touch or adore as kind
As it attracts every soul
Helps to attain many love goal
Deep red symbolise for love
Which is given to loved one
As is blessed with love’s rain
It helps to ease every pain
When given to loved one
It is placed in secret zone
Freshness remains till last
And soothes every heart
Dry petals after long time
Bring all memories of lifetime
Dec 1, 2019
Dec 1, 2019 at 7:37 PM UTC
Each being has a charter,
Something, to symbolise its essence.
Nature’s way to cater,
For its passion and presence.
A smiley face,
An ocean breeze,
The city’s pace,
A story to seize.
Not just a symbol but a bridge,
Between you and the self you never want to lose.
To define you as much as you do it.
Your charter holds the passions you will choose.
Like a vast meadow; barbaric,
And wild. Just daring you.
To run it through to its end and muse,
At a portal carrying a breeze of tomorrows dew.
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 3:52 AM UTC
If forever is never than now is the time to reach for the clouds, become the sublime.
Live in the hot sips of tea each morning, let colourful skies free you from mourning. Know that a stroll can lead somewhere new, bask in expressions, they symbolise truth. Give hope with smiles to all, connect with your eyes, aware of distant pains, knowing they subside.
If forever was never what comes with such pleasure; action, decision or pain? Living for today, forgetting expectations, think of all that there is to be gained.
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 12:53 AM UTC