"trow" poems
The wild bee reels from bough to bough
With his furry coat and his gauzy wing,
Now in a lily-cup, and now
Setting a jacinth bell a-swing,
In his wandering;
Sit closer love: it was here I trow
I made that vow,
Swore that two lives should be like one
As long as the sea-gull loved the sea,
As long as the sunflower sought the sun,—
It shall be, I said, for eternity
‘Twixt you and me!
Dear friend, those times are over and done;
Love’s web is spun.
Look upward where the poplar trees
Sway and sway in the summer air,
Here in the valley never a breeze
Scatters the thistledown, but there
Great winds blow fair
From the mighty murmuring mystical seas,
And the wave-lashed leas.
Look upward where the white gull screams,
What does it see that we do not see?
Is that a star? or the lamp that gleams
On some outward voyaging argosy,—
Ah! can it be
We have lived our lives in a land of dreams!
How sad it seems.
Sweet, there is nothing left to say
But this, that love is never lost,
Keen winter stabs the ******* of May
Whose crimson roses burst his frost,
Ships tempest-tossed
Will find a harbour in some bay,
And so we may.
And there is nothing left to do
But to kiss once again, and part,
Nay, there is nothing we should rue,
I have my beauty,—you your Art,
Nay, do not start,
One world was not enough for two
Like me and you.
7.1k
de bud me found on de ground
twas as strong as smokin a pound
after me smoked it me rosted a hound
wait not a hound, it was a pizza
me called up me friend shakisha
me asked if she as some good reefa
but why, why must my bike rust
de andlebars is about to bust
ow me guna catch de bus
me ave to bust me piggy bank
me crying, me loved me piggy bank
me drank me a bottle of coke
me accidentally drank a bottle of soap
me trow up and den shakisha show up
me say me drank me some soap
she say me love soap
hello.
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 11:26 AM UTC
The lovely lass o’ Inverness,
Nae joy nor pleasure can she see;
For e’en and morn she cries, “Alas!”
And ay the saut tear blins her ee:
Drumossie moor—Drumossie day—
A waefu’ day it was to me!
For there I lost my father dear,
My father dear, and brethren three.
Their winding-sheet the bluidy clay,
Their graves are growing green to see:
And by them lies the dearest lad
That ever blest a woman’s ee!
Now wae to thee, thou cruel lord,
A bluidy man I trow thou be;
For mony a heart thou hast made sair
That ne’er did wrang to thine or thee.
3k
NURSE
Our mistress bids me with all speed to call
Aegisthus to the strangers, that he come
And hear more clearly, as a man from man,
This newly brought report. Before her slaves,
Under set eyes of melancholy cast,
She hid her inner chuckle at the events
That have been brought to pass--too well for her,
But for this house and hearth most miserably,--
As in the tale the strangers clearly told.
He, when he hears and learns the story's gist,
Will joy, I trow, in heart. Ah, wretched me!
How those old troubles, of all sorts made up,
Most hard to bear, in Atreus's palace-halls
Have made my heart full heavy in my breast!
But never have I known a woe like this.
For other ills I bore full patiently,
But as for dear Orestes, my sweet charge,
Whom from his mother I received and nursed . . .
And then the shrill cries rousing me o' nights,
And many and unprofitable toils
For me who bore them. For one needs must rear
The heedless infant like an animal,
(How can it else be?) as his humor serve
For while a child is yet in swaddling clothes,
It speaketh not, if either hunger comes,
Or passing thirst, or lower calls of need;
And children's stomach works its own content.
And I, though I foresaw this, call to mind,
How I was cheated, washing swaddling clothes,
And nurse and laundress did the selfsame work.
I then with these my double handicrafts,
Brought up Orestes for his father dear;
And now, woe's me! I learn that he is dead,
And go to fetch the man that mars this house;
And gladly will he hear these words of mine.
2.9k
CREOLE PIDGIN ENGLISH
wetin de call dis, wetin you go call dis
oyinbo com tiffy tiffy from ma yard
I no trouble yam, I no go knock on dem fer notin
but oyinbo an dem pally com de burglarise ma hice
you hear me so!
I say oyinbo com de steal from me home
Dem be thieves tiffing all over de compound
an when I go say why you tiff about the place
oyinbo tiffs them tell me I go be the *** whey go suffer
See palava see how dem de treat black people
in dem country.
If I go steal from oyinbos, na ma *** dem go trow in jail
yet for dem town, dem com steal your property
and when you go talk they slap you down
Dem go make me loose ma bread, loose ma woman
Dem spoil ma name, them abuse me
Dem tell al kinna lies against me
Dem make nonsense stories and fabu abot me
Dem harass me, discredit and disprofit me oh!
Dem become tomenters, dem say dem go drive me crazy
dem go ruin ma life, dem go make me sik in da head
And heavens know i never trouble any persons
I never put ma feet in anybody house to steal
I never see this kin ting before
where you go do wrong and destroy him whey he do no wrong
Dis is what dem do here now, make you people know
I no fit work, I no fit go anywhere without oyinbo and him
pally dem follow and harass ma *** dem say dem want me dead
Dead for stealing from me, dead for me doing notin wrong
an them feel proud for all dem de do, dem feel right for wrong
De kin wickedness whey devil himself no fit do, dem don do
And I swear before man an God, dem go get their retributions
Every single one of dem whey involve
God go punish dem
God go bring the chaos of hell on dem
God go mash dem up like dem mash ma life
Except God no be God an tru an real
Dem are evil people and evil will claim every single one of dem
who do dis to ma innocence.
Peoples wherefer you be, wherefef you go, make you know
That in london der are evil oyinbo thiffs dere
an them go steal and destroy your life if you talk
I beg jus pray for me, dem want me dead
Dem want blood.
De blood of an inoncent man who never trouble anybody
dem de make mockery of me now
Dem de call me Modern day Jesus....
An by de Grace of de real Jesus Christ
Each an every one of dem who hav made me suffa
Will get dem just reward, I wait on the Lord
He is a tru an just God and Him say
Vengeance is mine...
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 11:40 PM UTC
An Old Story
I
It was roses, roses, all the way,
With myrtle mixed in my path like mad.
The house-roofs seemed to heave and sway,
The church-spires flamed, such flags they had,
A year ago on this very day!
II
The air broke into a mist with bells,
The old walls rocked with the crowds and cries.
Had I said, “Good folks, mere noise repels—
But give me your sun from yonder skies!”
They had answered, “And afterward, what else?”
III
Alack, it was I who leaped at the sun,
To give it my loving friends to keep.
Nought man could do have I left undone,
And you see my harvest, what I reap
This very day, now a year is run.
IV
There’s nobody on the house-tops now—
Just a palsied few at the windows set—
For the best of the sight is, all allow,
At the Shambles’ Gate—or, better yet,
By the very scaffold’s foot, I trow.
V
I go in the rain, and, more than needs,
A rope cuts both my wrists behind,
And I think, by the feel, my forehead bleeds,
For they fling, whoever has a mind,
Stones at me for my year’s misdeeds.
VI
Thus I entered Brescia, and thus I go!
In such triumphs, people have dropped down dead.
“Thou, paid by the World,—what dost thou owe
Me?” God might have questioned; but now instead
’Tis God shall requite! I am safer so.
2.3k
looking the speed
searching the inner peace
like flying on a bike, or
getting a hard on, by it.
running on the night,
120 to feel alive, my life,
in a way , becomes, the
eternal night ride,
thanks god
for the freeway, and
the eternal look for inner peace,
the zen state, i'm getting
trow speed
like flying, or surfing
on the street, every thing
is clear at 120k, like tantric ***
or those eyes of the past,
one of two, cool memories
in a past full of pain.
after all the pain,
becomes the good memoir,
in a night of speed, appears,
those strawberry memoirs
in the night ride appears,
sudden and clear,
the state of speed,
looking for the inner peace,
or the state of zen release,
looking,
the one good memoir,
and flying on my bike.
surfing the asphalt,
wishing she could go faster
wishing for the peace,
and wanting the creep to dissapears,
looking for the peace , and hear him
inside of me, a creepy voice,
trying to justify his lies,
asking me to be, after all the harm,
still ask for a hand out,
after all the damage,
dares to ask for something.
during the night, y forget the betrayal,
and become a free man, and the
burning area feels the wind
looking in the night,
the eyes of the past, or the kimera
that will never appears,
even the one that loves me,
back stab me, love hurts right.
looking the peace, or getting
a kick, on the speed,
looking the zen state,
getting a hard on,with speed.
hearing the claims of me heart to be free,
and getting a hard on, in the
process,
all is clear, at full speed.
tight, and clean, no creeps,
just the kick, i'm getting
trow that lovely speed,
like flying on a machine.
looking and wanting
waiting on the coward chick,
that loves and hurts me,
like a kid, on first grade,
hurting what she ******* loves
like a coward, or a slave,
on this creeps trade.
slaves are not **** or cool,
even with a lion on her back,
afraid, of the hyenas, or this creep
**** and lovely coward,
let go, or say it to my face
time's running out, and i'm
not waiting anymore,
life's
like the night ride,
and i'm going at full speed,
always on the fone, green dress
and **** skin , your heart
belongs to the lion , hows going to eat it,
and grabbing your hair,
screaming my name,
as you take me in,
like in the freeway,
**** and lovely coward
if you love me, set me free,
**** gambas, set me free
i'm on the freeway, need
to touch somebody, and you
need me like the sun, and after all
will you dare to say it to my face.
i'm looking for the rush of love,
and become a *** addict,
of some girls skin, and i'll find
the skin to become addicted.
and looking for the zen state
and the skin of a girl to be a free,
**** and firm, shes going to be,
a free girl, addicted to my,
looking for the lovely lioness
waiting to the one, how well say it
to me face, forgetting the creeps wimps,
and their pathetic harassment,
and take
my hand, and get on
top of me.
a **** lionnes that looks,
the creeps to their faces,
and jump on top of me, looking at them
and be free, next to me.
looking for the brave lionnes,
that will loves me , and deal with it.
and be free right next to me.
on a state, of zen speed...
Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 2:01 AM UTC
Incuse your life,
With a mighty aim,
Perish your fear
And live with cheer.
Trow your potential,
Be the fantast.
Follow your desire with echo.
Because you're 'unbreakable you'.
Laugh with glee,
Be a livable tree.
Don't be dastard,
Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 1:25 AM UTC
"When did you get so thin?" they say it like it's a revelation like the gods from heaven had sent down a message to convey to the whole world and that message was conveyed in a girl and the numbers on her bathroom scale.
Smiling thinly I have to replay "good diet, good exercise" even tough deep down I know the reality and they know it too but I lie because how can you explain that the thing that gives you life is the thing that's killing you?
The good diet? Apparently might as not, apparently celery and gum is not a healthy way to make your body function, apparently no meals is not, apparently diet coke is not, apparently ice is not a way to live your life, but who wants to live mine anyway?
It's hard to convey that every bite adds on a stone and every meal is equal to 10 kilos I have to run off, till I trow up, till my **** is toned up, till my senses turn off and my heart gives up, because when I look in the mirror the girl I see is not the girl in me, the girl I see isn't a girl at all, she has no bones and no muscles, rather she has jelly around every bend of the body, every inch of it is filled with the word that becomes her, a word that she becomes.
Fat.
She's fat, she's ugly she's fat, she's fat, she's ugly, she is fat, she's just not that fat, she's fat, her stomach pukes when she eats, fat, her thighs jiggle when she walks, fat, her arms and legs can barely function, fat, she's always dizzy and cold, fat, her face is pale and she is that word. Fat.
Although people try, although they try to tell her that she's not, to help her, to save her, to rescue a girl that does not need rescuing, this girl does not need saving rather this girl needs a knife, a knife to cut away all her worries, to tear her lungs and bumps on her body until she has nothing left, nothing at all because nothing is perfect,
zero is perfection, zero meals, zero carbs, zero calories, zero kilos, zero efforts, zero voices, zero people in her head screaming, zero messages in her head gleaming whenever she eats, the evil ones that she deals with, the ones who stop her eating, the ones that know that every mouthful she eats she is no longer beautiful, she becomes that word, fat,
what torture could be worse than that?
Selfish, she's selfish, I'm selfish for believing that a few spare pounds is the worst thing that can happen to me.
People are reminding me constantly that how the nightmares I feed are not the ones to fear because I could get hit by a car, I could get harassed or stabbed, I could get a disease that can stop me from breathing, I could get kicked on to the streets an of course, of course these things are worse and terrible and horrible and bleak but at least in these circumstances I wouldn't have to eat.
The truth is I'm a jealous little girl in a world that doesn't care, I'm jealous of the people I see who weight less than I will be, I'm jealous of the people who don't eat that people don't see, I'm jealous of the scale, I'm jealous of nothing, I'm jealous of bones and vomits and pills of prescription and water and air and nothing.
So, "when did you get so thin?" they say it like it's a revelation because how can they begin to see that the thing that gives me life is the thing that's killing me.
Sep 17, 2016
Sep 17, 2016 at 12:46 PM UTC
And they say there's nothing beautiful about bones
But all I see when I feel them appear more and more is pearls
I proudly parade along the pavement with veins and collarbones poking out like a sinful trophy
They are the jewels on my crown
The jewels I had to pick up from the ***** roads I crossed
Instead of making me heavier they let me hover through the sky
I can feel the storm in my head when the last bit of sugar leaves my body
Clouds appear when I stand up
Still looking for my throne I trow the last bit of nutriment aside and there it is. The end of the road shows me the thrown I've been waiting for. I've lost my body, but gained the pride in my head back knowing I can fight my natural desire to eat
Jan 11, 2019
Jan 11, 2019 at 1:51 PM UTC
Me in da wrong place at da wrong time.
Headin' down da alley on me way to pick up me 'erb.
Suddenly, Big Boy 'pears round da corner.
Ohno
Da Big Boy grabs me and take me lunch money.
'ow am I gunna get me 'erb now?
He beats me like me papa did.
Jus when Big Boy gonna trow da final punch...
ohyeah
Da boys arrive for battle.
Spliffs in der mouts.
Vengeance in der eyes.
TruckerWithAPassionForReggae grabs da Big Boy.
'olds 'im down n saves me reggae life.
Blunt Blastah Mastah punches da Big Boy.
Don touch me boombastic buddy he says.
DertyBeatzFromDaStreetz goes in for da **** with a ***** reggae kick.
Reggae Mon Offishal gets me kush cash back.
Me in da clear.
We killed a man, but our flame of friendship burnt bright that night.
Like our spliffs, the light was jus' right, mon.
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 12:20 PM UTC
i.
Forby thou art not,
I quiver from the
Cold; mine heart
Is running rapid,
There's anguish
In mine soul.
ii.
I wail out of mine
Bones, mine grave
Is looking close, I
Implore for thee,
Mine Jane, mine
Sweet. I implore
One day, thy eye's
I'll meet.
iii.
On the emptied
Street's of purgatory,
Mine sandal's art worn;
I beseech for just one kiss,
But there's nothing, mine heart doth burn.
iv.
Though through these trial's
And Tribulation's, I shalt
Hath patience; whilst I
Get bitten, by the demon's
I have been smitten. Ourn
Affamour shalt break down
Door's, wherein hell shalt
Shatter, we shalt reach the
Shores, O' I plore for thou.
v.
Mine eyeball's art sinking in, is this death somehow?
Mine body and limbs now doth trow; it's weathering
Away, I'm hanging on tight; I prayest thou canst saveth
Me, by the end of the night. And queen if I goeth, please
Knoweth mine amulet belongeth to thee, I wilt forever
Looketh down, upon thine crown, mine empress; mine
Queen.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( Filipino rose)
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 9:36 PM UTC
_If you're looking for a reason not to **** yourself tonight, this can be it._
Sometimes, we feel as if nothing matters.
We all do.
So i made a list of a few of my own reasons,
13 Reasons Why
I'm still alive.
And hopefully you'll change your mind.
Those moments you feel happy, and nothing but lucky.
And you wish nothing will ever change.
I will try my best.
_Reason 2. Paper Planes._
It sounds very weird; paper planes, but let me explain. Think about the times when you're walkin in a hallway on your way to a test, and you see a friend from a different class who already took it. You look at them and they immediately shout what you have to read, and you shout back the answer from the homework's last question. Or when you're in class, writing a disstrack about the teacher and annoying the **** out of them because the whole class just knew without telling we had to annoy the teacher. So you fold boats, make hats and trow clots of paper. When you have slack lay in class. When you trow paper planes and when everyone gets a F on the math test. When two of your friends want to sit next to you so you finally have a group of 12 people and don't do a **** during class. That feeling of luck, of happiness, of friendship and the feeling of stomach pain from laughing. Like you belong here. That feeling when you just have to smile. It's hard to explain but i hope you get it.
Feb 22, 2019
Feb 22, 2019 at 2:01 PM UTC
This is a poem
made by her hand
a poem of marks
you can read
left to right
right to left
any which way
an ascemic script
it tells a tale
late in the day
beside a river still
sunlit clouds vast
in a Maytime sky
down on the mud
and shingled shore
these found things
arrived at her feet
as they do when
waiting for her
dear hand’s touch
upon their metalled
forms rusted and
rivered by the daily
tides the diurnal
wash and dry of
weather and watered
river mud-coloured
beside boats bedded
in the river bank each
plaqued to remember
thirty wooden boats in all
that plied a river’s journey
there and back once
to and fro now
charged up high
on Pulton shore
a motorized trow
a top-sail schooner
Edith and the
New Despatch
steel and concrete
barges Severn Collier
and Mighty Monarch
lying hard into the silt
a yard at rest
a grave of vessels
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 11:41 AM UTC
spring has finally made her entrance
blooms unfurling with colour to show
we've waited for the delayed appearance
pinks yellows and purples on stems dance
in the warming breezes of the North's trow
spring has finally made her entrance
tiny leaves on elm branches balance
gardens now blossoming by the row
we've waited for the delayed appearance
even paddocks are flush with green stance
along the river flats they do smarty glow
spring has finally made her entrance
eyes taking more than a passing glance
the landscape tied in life's sprouting bow
we've waited for the delayed appearance
somewhat late her arrivals enhance
she adds glistering hues in pretty throw
spring has finally made her entrance
we've waited for the delayed appearance
Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 9:45 PM UTC
Things far off ahead
a smile
a laugh
a story to share
a house
with walls
lined with books
to wrap myself in
a garden
for youglings
to run trow
a fireplace
to share memories
thoughts
things far off ahead.
Jun 3, 2012
Jun 3, 2012 at 5:01 PM UTC
They trow me in flames
and they ask me why am I killing me
They ask me «why do you care»
Then they ask me «why don't you care»
They want to see me full of feelings
But they don't want me to show my pain
They want me perfect
And they want me carefree
They want to hear mellow words
And they want me thoughtless
***And the others are just the others
and none measure them***
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 1:13 PM UTC
I'm a strongest cat
With many lives
You can try to bring me
Down but I will rise again
You can gossip and trow
My name in the mad
I don't care cause I don't
hear you
Am a strongest cat
You can break me or
Hurt my feelings thousand
times I will forgive you
I'm a strongest cat
I do not back down from challenges
I think fast and act fast
Sometimes when I see opportunity I walk slow
Just to measure my destination
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 12:55 PM UTC
We are both equal to neutron stars
Affected by you, affected by me
By gravity, we are bound together
But between us, is a distance so far
And a black hole so dark
I can only júst skim your spark
"BUT NO!" we say
Take whatever it may
We will stick together
If we must!
Trow solar beams
Or spit with sparks
We will gleam away the darkness
If we must!
With gravity, we´ll pull
With electrons, we would
Crush the light years between us
Because we are both equal to neutron stars
Affected by me, Affected by you
By purpose, we are bound together
Mar 14, 2019
Mar 14, 2019 at 10:26 AM UTC
I'm angry,
Just trowing it out there.
Not at you,
Not at her,
or him or the world or the universe or even myself.
I'm just... angry,
Always,
Have you ever been angry?
Like, so angry, that everyone turns into that one guy.
You know who I mean,
That one guy, who has always been able to get under your skin.
****** you off, makes you want to rip their head off, trow them out of a tree, into a ravine under a car while crashing an airplane onto them.
Yeah, you know who I mean.
Imagine that, that guy is never to be seen, but you always just feel, just know, that he is there.
Well,
I'm angry,
Always,
Because of the guy, who isn't there,
Always.
Aug 5, 2017
Aug 5, 2017 at 2:01 PM UTC
Kick me out
Trow me away
Break my bones with those sticks and stones
Dig my grave
Bury me deep
Give me a mercy killing
and now the torment shall begin
Aug 19, 2012
Aug 19, 2012 at 11:16 PM UTC
Can you please tell me
What are you doing here?
Exposing yourself like that
Am I supposed to feel shame?
How can you dream
Of beeing a writer
When you can't write?
Is that poetry
Or a ******* chart?
Read a dictionary or two
And then come back
Am I supposed to like
A work full of spelling mistakes?
To be sincere
I'd dispose your work like party cake
Trow your tantrum
After reading this
Please, just understand
Someone has to put sence into your head
Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 1:41 PM UTC
“As you know, my past love, Sabre, I’ve never written a poem ever in my entire life of living but I have now...for you. Seemingly, it is the only way anyone can liaise with you. ‘Hear me’...
Desire me fair lord, my king and heart
With the maid of good sense to love another not true
To shew me evils and goods in all one speck of light, in all by god’s greatest might
Without me; think not, it canst not ever be for love this trow’d that only seed
I saith to this man of my godly torch, to alight life if I ever to die
For you there wilt be only me,
But thou art not loveless nor solus
Let the cosmos be thy friend and god thy brother
Soon life anew.
Oct 9, 2017
Oct 9, 2017 at 7:54 PM UTC
I often find my posits dreadful,
Happiness flies merely fleet,
So much compounds, accosts a headful
Angry, gnawing, awful heat!
In joyful sorrow I must live
For truest joy is not to be
And frightened by, as laws decree,
A final debt, a life to give.
(Then summons me, my last repose,
To Heavens Gate, that some suppose.)
I cannot shed this melanchol’,
So Viper-like time’s turbulence,
Nor sally forth ‘pon brevet fall,
Conning self in feckless hence
When plaintiff Hell wraths from my lips,
“O’ Fie! Ye craven Viper! Fie!
Why should it be that I must die?”,
By fevered brain’s convulsive flips.
(As if a Viper’s state be blamed
For thus which gives me abject pain.)
And in these throes of torrid temper
Comes a hummingbird in flight,
Engaged in moments: basic, simpler,
Perfect-formed wee aero-sprite!
So happily he flits about
When seeking nectar, bloom-by-bloom,
In flowers bright as peacock plumes
And worries not of Earthly doubts.
(For hummingbirds have innate sense
Of urbane thoughts and true pretense.)
His playful flight in mayful flutter
Sagely parries **** the trees
Through ev’ry leaf he flies a’scutter
Daring, as his heart will please!
My dearth, it seems, I now forget;
A tiny smile claims my face
And grows to full by levied grace
To pause my Earthly-borne regret!
(This newly forged respite from woe
Has cast away my pitied trow!)
What revelation rids my sadness
(All those worries disappear)
And what was anguish turns to gladness
Gone, the nagging mortal fears.
O’ they’ll return, I have no doubt,
To wrest my contemplative mind
But now assured that I can find
A joyful thought to fight such bout
I will forever carry near.
And to the hummingbird in flight
I’ll cherish how you drew my sight
To rid a foolish mortal’s tears.
(As hummingbirds will understand
The foibles taken by our hand.)
Aug 18, 2019
Aug 18, 2019 at 9:17 PM UTC
Thursday, October 27, 2016
2:21 PM
Are they one thing like
We have one right hand?
Trow now how
Could this dude/guy/man/fellow/fella/idiot/creep/bastard/son
Of assorted things, I've been called them all,
How can he dispute the scholar who declares patience
And
Perseverance
To be perfectly
Inter change able?
Ye,
Yet get this
Right,
Patience and perseverance are two
Separate ideas/realities/states/things.
One takes effort.
One takes grace.
That scholar perseveres.
I wait.
Dec 14, 2019
Dec 14, 2019 at 10:41 PM UTC