"threatens" poems
#*Lord Jesus, Plower of my heart,
though the darkness descends around me
and heavy moods fall over me,
though the warm feelings of intimacy begin to fade
and encroaching melancholy threatens to set in
like a cold reversal of the winds,
still I will rejoice in Your presence with me,
for You are causing me to press beyond—
beyond the delightful sense of You
and into the delightful assurance of You.
If I know nothing else, I know that You are here,
You are faithful and You love me.
So I will keep clinging to that
when everything else seems to slip
like dust through my fingers
and all hope of good things
in this life grows dim.
I will cling to the promise
that You are clinging to me,
that You’ve got me no matter what,
that You are never leaving or letting go.
For You are the unchanging I AM
in my ever-changing circumstances,
through my ever-shifting emotions,
over my ever-shaking life
and around my ever-feeble heart.
Here is my hand, Lord Jesus.
I put it safely in Yours and trust You
to lead me through this dark night.
Work Your holy, harrowing fingers
deep into the soil of my heart
until every idol is uprooted,
every stone removed
and every broken place restored.
Thank You, Jesus.
I love You.*#
Aug 1, 2017
Aug 1, 2017 at 5:16 PM UTC
Sometimes, I am in love with myself.
I force them to witness my love for my melanin
because they would love for me to hate my melanin.
I know that I am seen, but I want to be heard,
The first amendment allows me to speak, but they refused to hear a word-
that comes from my mouth.
My lips stereotyped as too black.
My diction too proper to act like this,
yet my slang is too ghetto to act like that...
Sometimes, I wonder what it's like to be white.
I hate being stared at when I speak in Spanish.
I never know if it's in disgust or in comfort,
because the sound of the double "r" rolling off of my tongue
sounds like the ricochet of the bullets they fire from their guns.
Since they no longer can enslave us like animals, they slaughter us
because, "if I can't have you no one can."
I refuse to be put down.
I refuse to shutdown.
My brown skin threatens,
and you all should be afraid.
Because I will banish your negativity with my Latin American flow,
speaking in Spanish with the Bachata tempo filling my veins.
My Ebonics is iconic,
and I refuse to be put in a box when the world is a sphere.
I... am more... than this.
Jul 8, 2016
Jul 8, 2016 at 2:16 AM UTC
i am your pet, cherished, you bet
from the very first moment, we met
you are my master, tried and true
my job in life is to always, please you
i wander aimlessly alone
when you're gone, so long, on your own
forgive me, if i chew your shoe
i was nervous and i missed you
if i snack some food from the trash
it smelled so good, how could i pass
bark, bark, bark, i cry out alarm
the mailman has come here to harm
when you get home, i'm so happy
wagging my tail with my whole body
when we go for a walk together
if a cat threatens, away i chase her
don't be upset with me, please sir
i promise to protect you from all danger
i greet other dogs, on our way
smelling their butts to just say, hey
i lift my leg marking my place
to find my way back, just in case
i'm not too crazy about the rain
but i'll keep you company and not complain
laying belly up is a sign
scratch me, rub me and i'll be fine
if I lick my area, because i can
please don't be jealous of me, man
sleeping here, my chin on your foot
obediently, my faith in you, i put
though my purpose, i may reach in a flash
compared to your life, my longevity won't last
my loyalty to you, will never sever
unconditionally, i love you, forever
Mar 24, 2017
Mar 24, 2017 at 3:36 PM UTC
Four years have past
Yet your memory seems to last
I shed my tears across the page
My heart threatens to break it's cage
This year you'll be twenty-one
Drinking alone isn't going to be fun
The track ran smooth, but your hear was frail
You worked yourself over the rail
One lap, two lap, three lap, four
I count the miles wanting more
You loved the track, you loved the sun
I imagine you with me when I run
Your auburn hair, your glowing eyes
Your smiles brightening darkened skies
I smile for you, you smile for me
It fills my heart with shortened glee
Goodbye dear Sara, we'll miss you so
I love you dear, remember you're no longer a child of woe
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 7:45 PM UTC
Mr. handsome stranger
He’s coming after
Desperate like a last request
Frantic delusional lunatic
Unhinged fragile losing what’s left
Self serving sadomasochistic
Easy on the eyes but doesn’t quite fit in
Playing it cool in social situations
His intelligent banter he claims as his own
With somewhat smart comebacks he practiced at home
Trying so hard that the sweat beads down
Onto his stressed wrinkled furrowed brow
the stories he skillfully misdirected
Carefully darting unwanted questions
Mr. Indiscreet can’t blow his cover
Disarm the girl of his unrealistic dreams
How quite average and normal he can be
Mr. Stalker walks over to the Girl
works up the courage and talks to her
Strikes up a witty conversation
With his movie star smile and education
Using the words that he pre rehearsed
Says all the right things and compliments her
Looking past his rather peculiar behavior
And when politely asked gives up her number
He rings her up the very next day
With a romantic scenic picnic date
Under the shade of a lush green tree
Upon a blanket with wine and cheese
Playing the part of the handsome boyfriend
Gains her full trust and faith in him
Joking in a effort to make her laugh
To put her at ease and follow his plan
Jealous of her ex boyfriends
Knowing their names and full address
And when he drops her off at home
Tracks and follows her every move
Knows all her weekly kept routines
Threatens and blackmails all her friends
Studies everyday mundane errands
Unaware of his decent into madness
Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 8:28 AM UTC
The ground threatens to swallow me, it trembles and it shakes. You can't run from shadows, or amend all your life mistakes.
I've always thought the floor was glass, knew one day that it would shatter. Head held high all my life, even though I never matter.
It's a struggle just to stand, always on uneven ground. Life was better for a moment, back when he was around.
Now is when it falls apart, my lungs forget to breathe. But I've been though loss before, and learned sorrow will ever leave.
I refuse to admit defeat, but this world falls apart. Earthquakes ruin all I've made, and leave this black hole I call a heart.
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 3:05 PM UTC
I. The Mermaid
I am six years old,
and I am obsessed with Ariel
from The Little Mermaid--
she is, by far,
my favourite Disney Princess.
I want to be exactly like her--
hair billowing in red swirls
around a heart-shaped face
and eyes so blue they put the very
ocean to shame
(my sister has blue eyes too, you know,
and, to this day, I still envy her,
for her eyes are the loveliest
characteristic of her Beauty--
and believe me, there are many);
purple clam shells vibrant
against porcelain-doll skin
and fully blossomed *******
(in three years from now,
I will begin
to grow *****
elementary-school style,
over-ripe.
B Cups going on C cups
fated to become D Cups,
plum-sized
in comparison to the
budding mosquito bites of
my fellow classmates.
Barely a child,
womanhood threatens
to sexualize my girlish body
before I truly know
what sexualization is);
fins cutting through the water
gracefully in all their
green, iridescent glory
(little did I know that,
as I grew older,
"cutting" would adopt
a far more sinister meaning
in the context of my life).
But,
despite my admiration for Ariel,
I fail to understand her desire
to abandon her
under-sea rendezvous,
sunken treasures,
oceanic melodies to
"be where the people are."
This lack of approval I foster
exists due to the fact that I am
a firm believer of the magic
the aquatic realm (and Disney)
has to offer.
To this day,
I continue to maintain my stance--
that Ariel had been terribly wrong
in the choices she made--
but I have become cognizant of
different (and better) reasons
to argue my position;
after all,
and as a cartoon crab
had so wisely declared once,
"The human world--
it's a mess."
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 10:29 PM UTC
They say the sea is cold, but the sea contains
the hottest blood of all, and the wildest, the most urgent.
All the whales in the wider deeps, hot are they, as they urge
on and on, and dive beneath the icebergs.
The right whales, the sperm-whales, the hammer-heads, the killers
there they blow, there they blow, hot wild white breath out of
the sea!
And they rock, and they rock, through the sensual ageless ages
on the depths of the seven seas,
and through the salt they reel with drunk delight
and in the tropics tremble they with love
and roll with massive, strong desire, like gods.
Then the great bull lies up against his bride
in the blue deep bed of the sea,
as mountain pressing on mountain, in the zest of life:
and out of the inward roaring of the inner red ocean of whale-blood
the long tip reaches strong, intense, like the maelstrom-tip, and
comes to rest
in the clasp and the soft, wild clutch of a she-whale's
fathomless body.
And over the bridge of the whale's strong phallus, linking the
wonder of whales
the burning archangels under the sea keep passing, back and
forth,
keep passing, archangels of bliss
from him to her, from her to him, great Cherubim
that wait on whales in mid-ocean, suspended in the waves of the
sea
great heaven of whales in the waters, old hierarchies.
And enormous mother whales lie dreaming suckling their whale-
tender young
and dreaming with strange whale eyes wide open in the waters of
the beginning and the end.
And bull-whales gather their women and whale-calves in a ring
when danger threatens, on the surface of the ceaseless flood
and range themselves like great fierce Seraphim facing the threat
encircling their huddled monsters of love.
And all this happens in the sea, in the salt
where God is also love, but without words:
and Aphrodite is the wife of whales
most happy, happy she!
and Venus among the fishes skips and is a she-dolphin
she is the gay, delighted porpoise sporting with love and the sea
she is the female tunny-fish, round and happy among the males
and dense with happy blood, dark rainbow bliss in the sea.
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The keyboard on my laptop has witnessed too many tear drops
Fall upon it's ebony skin as I type,
Each articulation of painful thoughts
And agonisingly catastrophic formation of words
Forcing another wave of grief to pour from these
empty blue eyes of mine.
I have tried to keep my head above the water,
To contain the wildfire in my head
That threatens to spread and burn under my veins,
Aflame in every single bone in this hollow body
But now it seems comforting to let myself slip
Beneath the surface,
To let the fire turn everything to ashes.
It feels better this way,
To be a chaotic mess.
At least I know how beautiful I'll be when I open up my heart and mind to the possibility of destruction.
Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 6:35 PM UTC
The sea was once our prehistoric home.
O how we adapted to its dark currents,
to its India-ink infinities,
chasing seaweed, driftwood and coral,
before belly-flopping onto dry ground.
Now, the sea threatens our ancestral home,
the sea that falls from the angry skies
with their charcoal-smudged infinities.
A swelling flood, chasing red alert,
destroying houses and lives; raining grief.
Once sea-bound creatures now drown at home,
ill-adapted to meet the flood's malevolent intent:
to purge the Earth of all who cannot resist
the rushing, rising mountains of waters,
before proclaiming its final conquest of India's ancient lands.
Now, only prayer will be our home, built on deepest despair.
Now, only God's omnipotent infinities
circle the mud-brown rapids of sludge
choking all who helplessly cross their path.
Only God can make Kerala and Tamil live again, as one, on dry, holy ground.
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 11:41 PM UTC
I am blind
And I ain't blind
To the different social classes
And their faces
I try and try to be impartial
But my fears and preconceptions
Give way to prejudice of thought
Love and unity fill my mind
Yet when its time
To effect some change
My feet quiver
And words can't formulate
I want to tell my brethren
you are special to me
and I love you just the same
As anybody else
But I'm scared of what he will respond
Will he reject me as we are not the same
Will he embrace me and bring forth a seed of change
I am blind
And I ain't blind
To the disdain classes afford one another
Man threatens to discard the fact we're all the same
So I wonder
Can we look beyond facades
Strip it all down to our core
Don't we all want to feel the same
Maybe we can toughen up and take down the ranks
That impede us from becoming one-another's friend
Dec 3, 2010
Dec 3, 2010 at 2:57 AM UTC
The sun sets on Ireland,
patchwork fields illuminated by the august light of
abiding memory.
Misty hues spilling
over the mountains,
glimpsed through a mist of tears
fighting not to be shed.
The last sunset
of a brief glimpse of manic happiness
and friendship
and love.
The fields flash by,
each one transforming into a rose-coloured memory,
and a tsunami of melancholy threatens to
knock me down.
Heavy sighs and
knowing looks and
held-back tears and
one last caress of your sun-kissed skin.
The sun sets on Ireland
And opens into a bright new tomorrow.
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 4:19 PM UTC
Trump invades Nicaragua;
lights a powder keg to the
relief of everyone; let's get
on w/ it; change the world;
otherwise Nicaragua threatens
to become another Syria w/
Sandanista vs. Sandanista &
drug lords & communists;
mercenaries; contractors
& experimental weapons;
welcome to a world that is torn
completely in two to everyone's
relief for the sheer catharsis;
that is what frenzied freedom
looks & feels like; touches like,
smells like, ***** & eats like;
the madman in the marketplace
is the last person who can spell
Bourgeoisie & Ancien Régime;
Disestablishmentarianism &
Nouveau riche; time & technology
will turn the soil of psychology
churning up some never before
seen creature; mankind is suicidal;
this new Being will have no such
concept; coming in & out existence
like walking through a door; time
is meaningless running in countless
waves in all directions; space is
flexible like clay; women & men
create each other to the limits of their
imagination; Newton laid the foundation
& Einstein painted the ceiling; Pascal,
Hawking; Leibniz & Nietzsche & every
poet that ever lived or never lived; every
celestial siren & songstress who whispered
in a magical scribe's ear & he scratched
the miles & hours & places & people there;
thus, it began somewhere far out in space;
but they've been there all along; peaceful,
loving, able to shape-shift to perform
pleasurable functions in accordance w/
mankind's selfish wishes; mankind thinking
it's putting one over on the new species,
still finds itself bogged down in Nicaragua
long after Trump has built his Presidential
Library & joined the aliens like everyone
else; the poor Nicaraguans & Guatemalans
& Hondurans fighting it out to the death;
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 9:51 PM UTC
If poisonous minerals, and if that tree
Whose fruit threw death on else immortal us,
If lecherous goats, if serpents envious
Cannot be damn'd, alas, why should I be?
Why should intent or reason, born in me,
Make sins, else equal, in me more heinous?
And mercy being easy, and glorious
To God, in his stern wrath why threatens he?
But who am I, that dare dispute with thee,
O God? Oh, of thine only worthy blood
And my tears, make a heavenly Lethean flood,
And drown in it my sins' black memory.
That thou remember them, some claim as debt;
I think it mercy, if thou wilt forget.
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**I have an issue
One that weighs heavily upon my heart
One that, if left unchecked, threatens to tear our social moral fiber apart
An issue I will express in English, with some help from my old friend *Swahili
Hii imenisumbua akili, kwa hivyo kuiongelea ni kitu tunastahili
Hii story ya immorality tunaichukulia so so light
Dem akiji'expose kidogo mbele ya kamera haina mseo, tunampandisha cheo kwa society, all of a sudden ye ni socialite
The new cool, eti ‘good girl gone bad’
Hiyo njaro siyo polite*
We have a lot more to live for than that which we seem to be aware of
It’s not always about a good time, or lack thereof
Our reputation as a culture I believe is something we badly need to take care of
*Siyo game
Siyo Jokes
Si eti mambo na fame*
It shouldn’t just be about who drinks, who smokes, who vomits and who chokes
*Hiyo lifestyle siyo dope
Na siyo right*
Six hundred and seventy something ways to die… choose one
I refuse to go… speeding down a highway, drunk out of my mind, on another booz run
However, I may not exactly be the right person to point out how messed up you are
On a scale of one to ten?
I’m probably as guilty as you are
******
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 3:33 AM UTC
If poisonous minerals, and if that tree
Whose fruit threw death on else immortal us,
If lecherous goats, if serpents envious
Cannot be ****** alas, why should I be?
Why should intent or reason, born in me,
Make sins, else equal, in me more heinous?
And Mercy being easy, and glorious
To God; in his stern wrath, why threatens he?
But who am I, that dare dispute with thee
O God? Oh! of thine only worthy blood,
And my tears, make a heavenly Lethean flood,
And drown in it my sin’s black memory;
That thou remember them, some claim as debt,
I think it mercy, if thou wilt forget.
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Writing the words
the emptying
of my emotional recycle bin
I pour them out
with intent to demolish
to remove the evidence
the unwanted remembrance
the devastation
that threatens to unravel my sanity
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 2:09 AM UTC
I own a good chin to lift
a look that threatens from a distance.
The shield I never thought I’d get in the mail is here,
name written on it and everything.
So I walk out, shield up,
and yet
I shiver if I only get a hint of
A scent,
reminding me of someone
who ****** me with no permission.
Sometimes, I forget the amount of my anger
But, if it bares meaning,
I understand it.
Not only mine, the anger of many women, who
woke up in someone’s bed, and
left there smelling of a body
they didn’t choose to smell of.
Don’t tell me I should’ve said “No.”
Because sometimes the mouth doesn’t listen to the body,
body doesn’t listen to the brain,
the brain is not aware that
six years later you’ll be sobbing with the realization that
you’re afraid of the man you trust most of all
because he produces testosterone.
Six years ago, it happened too fast.
I didn’t say “No.”
He didn’t give me time to do it.
As I was leaving, eyes clenched to my feet
I let him kiss me and say:
“I hope you don’t regret this night.”
That’s what makes me the angriest.
Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 3:24 AM UTC
We can't seem to communicate like a normal pair
Arguing, yelling, ignoring each other
How am I supposed to believe you even care
While our once innocent love slowly threatens to smother
Blaming others for your own cruel deeds
Forgetting the rainbows we have been through
Neglecting your wife and children's needs
It's all black and white now, no color seems true
Daddy's yelling, mommy cries
Something about money and lies
Tomorrow is their 20th aniversary
What magic could she buy to make her parents happy?
To see their smiles again at dinner time
To hear them ask if she's doing fine
She grabs a sheet of snow white paper
Her pencils and some glitters
Draws a rainbow and a light pink lily
All they need is some color in this family
Y.
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 1:00 PM UTC
I've never felt a red rose,
never pricked myself on a thorn,
never smelled it in or got lost in eyes.
My mother has a red rose -- my father gave
it to her, and it is beautiful, and it is kind, and it
is loving, and it is something I have never seen.
This pink rose is something trying too hard to be red.
Slashing and ripping at clothes with sharpened words,
claiming it’s merely the thorns of a red. This pungency
is blamed upon me: I can not handle the sickly sweet
succor stuck under my suffocating nose. He holds me
by the chin, condemning eyes borrowing into mine, grip
tightening. This pink rose is dead, withered, wilted
and weathered by the storm we’re caught in.
Everyone sees red where there is none
-- o r p e r h a p s t h a t ’ s j u s t t h e b l o o d ? --
this pink rose has me trembling, fearing
his appearance and his eyes; knowing
he’s stronger than me, but the
uncertainty of “would he?” scares
me more. I can’t leave because
that same knife he used upon
me, he threatens his own
skin. It’s such a small
world, such a small
town, such a small
neighborhood,
such a small
building.
I can’t walk these halls
with comfort or safety
anymore, not with those
eyes burning blame into
my back and face.
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 10:28 AM UTC
Sometimes less is more,
When more threatens
To become too much.
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 7:33 AM UTC
I harbor
A great loneliness in my heart.
It has long plagued me.
It is where all desperation comes from,
All strife,
All fear.
It aches.
But that is not the true problem.
The true problem began when I realized
It could be otherwise,
That people existed every so often
Who could calm my tempestuous heart
And comfort my soul.
Then I began to fear.
Because to be without
Isn't bad
When without is all you know.
But the moment I knew comfort
I was ruined for hardship.
Never again could I swallow it with grace.
Since, I have been searching for a way to tell myself
That comfort will return
When it leaves-
For minutes or for years.
I have found very little to help me do this,
And yet I am improving.
Slowly I am crawling up that mountain.
But oh,
Sometimes it does ache.
Sometimes fear does threaten.
Sometimes I am very, very lonely
Even within comfort.
I am finding my way, slowly,
To loving you right.
To knowing that you can fix every pain I have ever felt
But not requiring you to,
Not cringing in doubt when you are absent.
I will not lose you as I have lost the others
To my need
To my craving for comfort.
I will not let my intrinsic loneliness taint this.
I am sad, today.
I am lonely, today.
And today I will sit with that, and be strong, and understand that you are there
And will be.
I will practice patience and I will not let despair overtake me.
Loneliness is the price of love.
I cannot **** it in me.
I cannot use you to treat it like a disease.
I must accept it,
For you.
For you are more important to me than fear.
Yes,
Yes this is a love poem.
A very strange one
Born from the hollow feeling that threatens sometimes when you aren't around.
I am telling you that I love you more than to demand you chase it away.
I am telling you that I can sit in this and know that although you fix all suffering in me,
When you are not there to do it
That does not mean you make me suffer.
I love you enough
To free you like this, and to trust you
To always return
And unknowingly but perfectly
Heal me.
Dec 26, 2015
Dec 26, 2015 at 12:57 PM UTC
Dark menacing clouds wander aimlessly in the sky.
The cuckoo sings a sweet melodious tune
in anticipation of the much-needed rain.
The whistling wild wind threatens
to drive away the poor rain.
The fronds of the coconut palms dance wildly
and the trunks oscillate in the fierce wind.
The peacock enters with a proud colorful display.
Farmers look up towards the sky with a prayer in their heart:
Dear Lord, let there be monsoon again.
Little children gather on the terraces of their houses
to enjoy the bliss and wetness of the first rain.
Women hurriedly collect dried clothes from the clothes’ lines.
Birds are utterly confused and don’t know where to fly.
The Sun and rain clouds play hide-and-seek.
A bolt of lightning is seen in the western sky.
Soon the rumbling thunder shatters
the serenity of the evening
as Heaven opens its gates
to pour out its soothing nectar
and we know…
monsoon is here again.
Gita Ashok
9/10/2010, 1:40 pm
Oct 9, 2010
Oct 9, 2010 at 12:22 AM UTC
The sunset sky dazzling with the golden hues,
Taking bow in brilliant sparkle of experience
Is it not a ****** of the story so far, that was today?
Or is it building anticipation of the night yet to come.
Watch the days go, some proud of their accomplishments
Some leaving sighs of disappointments,
Leaving all in awe of its Amaranthine twists and turns
And the fortunate get to see the moon trying to steal the show from setting sun,
Oh she is such a show off, isn’t she, basking in reflected glory
Its magical, the sunset sky, Puzzling, sometimes just like a riddle,
Leaving the nature stunned and amazed
For it has been filling the canvas whole day with colours
And now the sunset threatens to hide them all
And in dark all the colours will be same
A cue for the wise.
Sunset sky has so much to offer,
is she not a fine example of how uncertain a life can be
Often reminding no matter what you planned,
there will be some unexpected returns
For End has its own brain, its own script
Charting its own course
So why just the beginning, every moment of the life should be grand,
meted with equal passion and fervor
She has been so clever; the sunset sky
Leaving Twinkling cryptic messages for the night sky
For even the dark has sparkle and hope if you keep your head up,
A constant reminder that exuberance is an attitude of deep, rich, warm hearts
**I want my sunset sky to be grand,
magical, and full of stories of my life that has been
And its memories to linger on in this world,
in the tomorrow and a few more years to come**
Jun 27, 2011
Jun 27, 2011 at 7:45 AM UTC