"tarrying" poems
I was in a darkness of my own
Within a night I had not known
I chose to stumble in my pace
With all hope of light misplaced
On my course a twinkle caught my eye
A lonely star in the sky above
Getting ever brighter as I drew nigh
Then did I see the truth thereof
It was a myriad in mutiny
A constellation that raided the night
Luminous in its beauty
A radiance which compelled my sight
I was in a darkness of my own
Overcome by a light unknown
That eased my path in grace
And all lost hope replaced
It reclined in the cosmos
Calling out to me
Seeming within reach almost
Then I blurred back to reality
A marvel that pulled my soul
By more than figure of speech
To be part of a whole
My flesh could never reach
How daunting a brilliance
I longed for though farfetched
My heart need travel a distance
Fear served only to stretch
It held my tarrying gaze
For only a moment more
Then left me in a daze
Stealing that which I adore
I again stumble in my pace
Having lost my stars in space
Returned to a state I now bemoan
I am in a darkness of my own.
Dec 28, 2018
Dec 28, 2018 at 5:49 PM UTC
Gold shed upon suckling gold,
The time of the bole blackens,
Of the dark mounted through dapple,
While in the sealed apple
The seed cradled toward cold.
A gold on gold spent,
Put by from an elm in its years
Now its gilded of days,
Over turf’s dishevelment;
Where all which is green sickens,
All the fresh shall be sere.
All which is green sickens,
And it is but for a time
Those embered veinings blaze
A year’s delirium;
Or neared of other space,
Unportioned azure shall close
One of more, and which is,
One which goes.
Let the little pupils that will,
Of vision, gaze for salt
To whet their gazing, wit
In one weather is high
From burrow and lair, by
Nether providences’ default
An all’s accrued.
And apposite, beyond
Such primer beholdings, has
Its long accounting known
The beetle’s morsel thus
Was rich, and the slug’s bed on
The oak’s generations, deep
Over the lark’s bones.
In slough of Edens fast
Wit in one weather shall stand,
While millennia nibble at
The sensual apple
Toppled it net,
Plenty in the palm of the hand,
And the fallen not fallen, not lost
From out its certitude—
For our unbeggaring
Has been gross. Few and late
To cherish an immoderate
Wish, hope’s calculus,
Love’s hope; few to miss,
From natural tally ******
In the lime-girdled space
Of choice, where alone
Man can abandon what
Is only his own;
And in cold and tarrying
Their rearisers sleep:
While to the granite cheek
Light’s purples bring
Infinite their ministering,
And past our finial
And ragged crests, to keep
Time’s ambient stood,
Propose horizons from
Their shadowy quarries; while,
In an unwandered wood,
Or under the indifferent foot,
Is let fall, let fall a fruit,
Through eternal leisures down,
For but time’s unravelling.
2.9k
1.
there once was a poem
who climbed into a paper boat
and sailed on to the moon
not a moment too soon
for they came to lock the sun away!
2.
best not mount this whippy one
rock-a-billy wild carriage
ride me to the city's end
don't drive me round the bend
we can always try a bold bovary-move!
3.
look into the fire and sing a song
about the lonely, tarrying sea
oh sailor, make it sweet
then I'll put it up on tweet
and nary mind; make your children's lullaby.
4.
I gives ya posies bright and gay
come sit by me...closer, dear
she smells, then sneezes
oh, he didn't know how to please her
her floral allergies packed him off for good.
5.
there was a lazy man from Shadder
who said 'twas too cold to empty his bladder
so, he sent it a-walkies
off alone to the loo
well, it just drove his wife madder!
S T, 30 June 2013
Jun 30, 2013
Jun 30, 2013 at 12:51 PM UTC
I sit here at the crossing of the ways amid and with the passing of so many days,I rest awhile.
No hurly burly,girly, girlies here, just me,the man,
sitting sketching out another plan, and one that won't **** me to another stretch of lonely roads
or heavy loads to carry
tarrying too long,going just that extra mile
for one more smile or kiss pressed like wilted flowers on my wanting lips.
I sit
still,
the crossing of the crossroads will occur and there I'll be
watching each and every wrinkle that appears and when the mists that roll around me clear
and the fear of moving on is gone
I'll go
back
to travel once again the empty streets and this time with the plan I have
I hope to meet
on equal terms someone like me,whose stomach used to churn at any thought of being any closer than arms length.
Sitting here silently,
weaving strength into my hands
to gather up my bag and with a certain sense of swag
swagger on.
Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 3:38 AM UTC
I bade thee apace, to bring thy comely countenance close to
Mine face. A carcanet around
Thy neck I shalt wrap, every
Jewel made of mine inner-
Being; hush, mine lips art
Dry mine queen, I need
The most of thy skin to
Cure this winter's chap.
Coëval we were; now
Distanced by glass an
Shores, I crieth til mine
Lungs burst, just to
Be in thy presence.
To face the same view,
To smell thy ocean essence.
Fingers I use to write and jot down
Words that art stuck in mine throat;
Mixed in with quiet fears, worries, hopes. I dive beneath this red blanket, in loneliness I do cope, thy warmth do I hope; to slip into this space. Imagine I, imagine I do, of a panoramic place to explore open and closed doors, wherein the soil clings to ourn feet, where the normal word's art "mi amour". How I do wait, even eternity; to be one in thy freshet of bubbling lovingkindness.
O' how I am pent; awaiting mine chains to break to fly to thy abode.
©Brandon nagley
©lonesome poet's poetry
©earl Jane nagley dedication (agapi mou).
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 11:16 PM UTC
silvery tresses of moonlight cascaded
down upon the palm tree lined shore
where young couples slowly strolled
taking in the night's ambiance
tarrying on the sea air
an affection wave
played with joy
so sweetly
in their
hearts
Apr 22, 2013
Apr 22, 2013 at 4:27 PM UTC
shatterproof smiles
like nineteen sixties plastic american sunshine
on the faded walls
if it was something a "la la la la" song could solve
then he wouldn't be up all night
pacing the hall wringing his clammy hands
whispering over and over
that we have come as far as we can hope to
how can i get you that one step further
shatterproof smiles
look great but they have no love
look super-duper on t.v.
but they wont be there in your darkest hour
but he waits for her
a good egg his mom always said
cause thats what they promised him
a perfect girl with a shatterproof smile
a perfect painting of plastic sunshine
a glittering prize
an empty space behind bright blue eyes
she is one of them
her glory ***** scrapbook
is filled with the blood traces of those
she has severed from their loved ones
and it smells of hard dirt
it smells of unquenchable thirst
she is now years behind me
and so is the monster she choose to be
shes a fast song now
feet too swift to spend a maidens moments
tarrying over the bouquets of roses at graveside
too swift to shed a tear for the children left behind
too swift to see the cost of her heartlessness
a fast song to spin the mind from the hearts ache
from the souls vanquish
i am alone on the long empty street
i see her as a wave of destruction approaching
over the miles and years
and nothing looks more lonely to me
nothing looks more void of humanity
than the look in her eye
i left you behind years ago
monster with perfect shatterproof smiles
and you will never never know what my answer was
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 1:13 AM UTC
I expect the Messiah
and though he is tarrying,
I still believe----
But when I am expected,
I am never late,
and thus there are those
who have faith in me.
Aug 29, 2016
Aug 29, 2016 at 6:18 PM UTC
890
From Us She wandered now a Year,
Her tarrying, unknown,
If Wilderness prevent her feet
Or that Ethereal Zone
No eye hath seen and lived
We ignorant must be—
We only know what time of Year
We took the Mystery.
951
It's been a while since Love came to call,
O, to hear its footsteps just once more!
So I've asked the moon to shine brighter
On the pathway leading to my door
But the moon told me Love needs no light --
Down the darkest paths it finds its way,
For Love itself is the light that guides
Wandering feet that at times tend to stray
O, sagacious moon, you've earned your crown!
Guardian of the melancholy hour;
Can you tell me why Love hesitates
To unchain me from this lonely tower?
Has my heart been deemed an unfit host?
Absurd! Warmth and tenderness abound!
Chambers exude tolerance and peace . . .
Where might a more perfect nest be found?
An old weeping willow keeps its watch,
Straining to hear Love's knock at my door;
And it weeps with me throughout the day --
But when night falls, I cry so much more
No birds violate the evening's calm --
They've no reason to burst forth in song;
Filled with pity, they hear my laments,
Chiding Love for tarrying too long
I draw comfort now from memories,
Memories that time cannot erase;
But Hope's candle flaunts a radiant flame,
Just in case Love's listening . . . just in case
Jun 15, 2022
Jun 15, 2022 at 12:57 PM UTC
The ability to not in faith waver
Is grace uncommon--to not cave in
Like Abraham to Sarah's honeyed voice,
When tarrying seemed the promise--
To the pressure around, but to linger
The more in hope still, daily waiting
For God's time, like Joseph, when other people,
As the butler chief, are trotting in life and career.
Man, for what man truly is, can buckle
Down and be seeking for "better" option rather
Than be languishing, holding unto the Almighty,
Who is nevertheless the Helper of man and destiny.
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 2:07 PM UTC
Tell me of a day without struggle, a day without pain
If there be such a day, let it remain a secret to no man
Let it fill our ears and tremble in our own throats
For such a day is a gift from the universe
Bequeathed upon the masses
An approximated apology, focused on redeeming malice
The brightly shining sun would focus its strength on its object
Taking aim at his soul, meaning to warm it, looking to extract it
Taking from him all that was harmful from tarrying seconds
Replacing cruelty and hatred with thoughts that resemble forgiveness
But in themselves they are not forgiveness
Forgiveness, being but a specter, usurped by memories grown grainy
Forgiveness is so sallow and downtrodden, unconvincing
No, the thoughts projected by the early year’s sun are not so
They are empty of reminisces, void of meaning
Shining and new, redemptive and rejuvenating
Yet we approach them with a quiver of arrows fastened from our past
Expending ourselves in fighting its gaze and retreating to our caves
Where our memories are sheltered
To ponder what it means that this intruder has returned
Stroking the identities it tried to quell and weeping until overtaken by slumber
If ever there has been a day without pain and without struggle
Verily, the night which followed has it cast asunder
Mar 26, 2010
Mar 26, 2010 at 11:15 PM UTC
“A malignant adversary invader of my soul,
Conge deceitful lust the augury of artifice,
Mongrel horrid rancor glutton of enthralled rage,
She was fervent with only one ambition afore,
A grand mistake on my part a gazebo of treachery,
Chattels contrary to my reasoning of my desires,
An indisposed viper camouflaged covered in blossoms,
Progenitor of gasps an assassin tarrying in quietude,
A sea shower of sorrows from whence she was drawn,
As the salty drops adorn my sorrows of woe and despair,
Bellowing a fever of the mind from the vile deceit and rage,
As a fish linked adorned to an alluring virulent,
Fabric as the adumbration of the suns shines remorse,
A rapacious blaze leaving thou shuddering in angst,
I have traveled on a road lead to pitfalls and misery,
Imbroglio with no emotion renders windy clouds afore,
A citadel thwarts wane of melancholy and remorse,
That which reason doubtful allows my malignant adversary”
By Andrew Guzaldo 11/1/2018 ©
Nov 2, 2018
Nov 2, 2018 at 9:54 PM UTC
On the verge of giving up and letting go,
She lashes out her agitation and frustrated soul
With drastic earthquakes and sudden tears
Just to insinuate that the end is near
Oh how her wayward inhabitants respond to her plea
They have suddenly become oblivious to her only decree
To save her, help her become whole again
For her abandoned spirit and soul to mend
After tarrying for too long
She does not let them right their wrongs
Everyone intently listens to her final breath
And they know, that sadly, this means death
The last thing she hears is
Abrupt screams and desperate cries
Her mouth utters a final goodbye
As she sheds one last tear
She’s dead
She’s gone
The end is here
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 1:14 AM UTC
My mind strays to you and my body soon takes over,
It trembles and ties those tight strings of sensuality,
A fleeting thought of you sets ablaze my heart like leaves in October,
To know the touch of your dear hand is to know sunlight's reach in a dark reality.
The memory of your gaze is like a gilded horizon,
Tastes of sweeter days rest on my tarrying tongue,
I can be cold but you are warmth and you are not forgotten,
Ours is beautiful, very melodic, just waiting to be sung.
Apr 9, 2020
Apr 9, 2020 at 2:53 PM UTC
The enemy, like god is all around us
And god lifts not a finger to stop it
Or answer the prayers of any supplicant
Sacrificed
Like Nadav and Avihu
When ‘heavenly fire entered their nostrils
And burned their souls’*
Such fire burns hot and is unquenched
And we thirst for a salvation,
And though it is tarrying
We still believe,
That science will be our messiah
And god a luxury
We can return to
Once we can think again
About something other than survival.
Apr 20, 2020
Apr 20, 2020 at 5:00 PM UTC
Seeking sanctuary within the caliginous abyss,
Eminently awaiting Death’s ineludile kiss,
I sit and reminisce,
About all the sins committed & soon to commit.
Down on my knees beseeching God,
To free me of the odds.
I chuckle back tears,
It’s quite ironic after all these years,
How all the fears,
Deep revelations & still nothing seems to be coming clear.
Tell me, my dear,
Do you ever feel the darkness hidden in rain?
Do you ever wither beneath it and succumb to the piercing pain?
I can feel his grasp closing in,
He’s been wondering about when I’d come to this inevitable end.
Death marks it’s scent in the air,
He’s clearly coming but I can’t even commence to care.
It’s too late to escape the chains tarrying within his lair.
As the black eyes of death meet the brown of my own,
He extends his hand,
“It’s time to answer for your sins.”
I guess this be it, friend.
Aug 31, 2018
Aug 31, 2018 at 11:15 PM UTC
With the burden of a million curses,
she scuffs in an unflagging way,
fondling zillions as it passes,
the aroma of hope it does spray.
What if time complies with us?
What if she ceases to budge ?
What if she gives in to our pleadings?
What if she doesn’t move even if we nudge?
With time sufferings would linger,
tears ceaselessly would wet your face,
that ” time almost heals everything”
would not descend to embrace.
Your wounds wouldn’t metamorphose to scars,
contusions would continue to reek,
pain would mangle you in its grip,
recovery, from none you can seek.
Despair would clad you eternally,
you will find no light at the tunnel’s end,
darkness would compel you to succumb,
no ray of hope would glisten to amend.
The woes of ailing men wouldn’t stop,
they would dangle on their death beds,
time wouldn’t pass rewarding salvation,
making you realise how tarrying time dreads.
Sorrow would prevail for good,
worries would always conjure up,
a wait would end no more,
an ocean would never come of a drop.
Joy wouldn’t replace despondency,
neither well being, malaise,
spring wouldn’t follow winter,
neither clarity , haze.
The crux of life is transience,
perpetuity we can’t endure,
let time slither as she does,
for each agony she’ll leave a cure.
Mar 31, 2020
Mar 31, 2020 at 8:44 AM UTC
San Damiano hovers over majestic bluffs
high above the great bend of the Ohio
curving toward its Mississippi rendezvous.
A soft haze filters the fading sun.
Budding tree fingers,
eager for the coming Equinox,
silhouetted against the rosy dusk light.
After the sun surrenders to the night,
cosmic diamonds salt the sky with effigies
of proud Orion and the two bears.
Venus and Jupiter hang close enough to touch.
Deep in the shadows atop the tranquil bluffs,
Saint Francis himself might be tarrying -
kindly guiding us to concord - empathy - peace.
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 1:32 PM UTC
[parade for sorrow]
I miss
blinking
[imp]
the man digging in his yard is looking for his dog. this is my lucky window. in this much silence, a baby could get a tooth. a mom a finger if a car door slams. the man digs and the ice comes for its heartbroken road. wounds move in a deerless world.
[born]
disguised
as
as if
I would know
[access verses]
a classroom, a house
but never
the ghost
of a church
–
the boys
they play
scarecrow
loves
horse, and the girls
the shepherdess
on a boat
names her dog
–
hey, distance
lose
the baby
(says
the empty
box)
[holding the baby]
a deleted voicemail of a boy asking his mom how to prepare a past meal. my handwriting an insect I want the best for. dream and the moth it won’t finish.
[vespers]
them raccoons out there is tarrying*
up
yr bible
–
*tearin
–
border: my eyes can’t stop what the back of my head is eating
mirror: a godless hyphenate
–
my man is a body whose moon is vacant
–
they is out there to flood
sightseers
with basilisk
****
–
in the valley of my choking
the fingers of my father
are going
dog’s-collar
purple
–
out-the-way churches. and acne
[declination]
in forgetting how many to save, god wants to know
are you still
seeing
things…
I remember the animal, the appropriate
mask…
once held, is the baby
less
wild
is the room
in the room
[sympathizer]
the many plain
sons
of god
their parking
tickets
[the mud on god's cheek]
at birth we are given a ladder we can’t see.
our feet
bare
[animal masks on the floor of the ocean]
mouse, teacup of the missing stork-
owl, lamb of night-
this was god. he was sad and everyone noticed.
May 11, 2017
May 11, 2017 at 12:23 AM UTC
The funeral marches to graves
The descending of curtains
An end to come
The march to finality
A marching to dust
Tarrying to the night
The quiet hollow
The aura of sadness
The exist of a mortal
Death,
A coming at will.
Death,
The king of one’s soul.
Death,
The Lord of the night.
Death,
A silence to life.
Death,
The lion of the forest.
Death,
The ruler of the mountains.
Death,
A piercing of hearts.
Death,
It’s tattoo forever a mark.
Death,
A ticking of the clocks.
Death,
A bringer of eternal peace.
The sweet relieve it bringeth
The residing of mortals
Death,
A bringer of grief.
Death,
A planting of sadness.
Death,
An anthem of black flames.
Death,
A war veteran’s dirge.
Death,
A thief of the night.
Death,
A certainty for all.
Death,
The burn out match stick in one’s ashtray.
Death,
The whither of bones.
Death,
A tragedy to life.
Death,
An endless sleep to one’s soul.
Death cometh
A sweet relief
One’s death
The glowing of darkness
Death,
A mortal’s final rest.
Death,
The ugliness to a beauty.
Death,
The letting out of a final sigh.
Death,
The calling from one’s ancestors.
Death,
A passing through the night.
Death,
The end to one’s pleasurable life.
Death,
I float this Carol,
To you I sing.
Written by Tosan Oluwakemi Thompson
Jul 2, 2020
Jul 2, 2020 at 5:48 AM UTC
Silver lining sings threnody hymns
Heavenly body fill with heartfelt bereft
The raven night storms the calm sea
Drawing a parallel line to equator
The tottering throne of earth smiles with war
My heart leaps in bare democracy we cry
Fleet of foots in passionless display
Piercing the cavern hills as we fold our hands
The torch of liberation quench in poet's heart
As our eye lust in embroidery sheets
Into the parley we dine and sleep on strange bed
Adultery our eyes commit as laurels unfold
For spirit of beauty conquer our heart
Tarrying us in still tides of divided world
That we are so blur by hatred of easternly hills
The rising star turns murky moist
Coloring our soul unassailable armory
The weary soul of man needs freedom
Planting flowers for an earthly paradise
but the voice of revolution is inveighled by few
Through stash they offer as a prize
I am a heretic my heresy points to truth
as it enchants and thralls my mind
I wrestled the power that war against humanity
Written by
Martin Ijir
Dec 7, 2017
Dec 7, 2017 at 8:14 AM UTC