"unbowed" poems
The girl with the kite
Didn't have a care
She'd run on the beach
With the wind in her hair
She'd run up hills
Lie in fields of wild flowers
Gazing at the ever changing sky
She would dream for hours
The girl with the kite
Saw faces in the sky
Angels looking down on her
From clouds floating by
She'd hold on so tight
As her kite took flight
She said she'd never let go
Of her beautiful kite
The girl with the kite
Would make daisy chains
She'd pick clover and butter cups
As she walked country lanes
Life was simple
Or it seemed that way
The sun was always shining
When she went out to play
The girl with the kite
Started to grow
She felt under pressure
To let her kite go
Demands were made
For her to achieve and perform
Make her way in the world
Please other people and conform
The girl with the kite
Felt things were going wrong
It was hard growing up
Then a man came along
He played his guitar
He brought a bouquet
As he sang his sweet song
Her kite drifted away
The girl with the kite
Heard his sweet song turn sour
His true colours were shown
As the man used his power,
Manipulation and aggression
To clip her wings
To crush her spirit
To pull her strings
The girl with the kite
Felt she was to blame
For her bad choices
She hid her shame
Kept her sadness a secret
Tried to make things right
Trapped in her world
She lost her self in the fight
The girl with the kite
Wanted to die
She couldn't live any more
She had no kite to fly
She went to the Doctor
Who gave her some pills
They just made her numb
Didn't cure her ills
The girl with the kite
Slept for a decade, or more
Life went on around her
Each day was a chore
She had to wake from the inertia
She had become bereft
When she woke from the dark sleep
She had nothing left
The girl with the kite
Had to start anew
Like a Phoenix from the ashes
She knew she'd pull through
She's found her kite
Found a beach for it to blow
Up to the angels on their clouds
This time, she won't let go
The girl with the kite
Is now a woman, strong and proud
Content to live her life alone
Independent and unbowed
She flies her kite sedately
Life is not a race
She's free to fly it when she wants to
It flies at her own pace
Nicki Tilston.
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 3:45 AM UTC
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is ****** but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
5.6k
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud,
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is ****** but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
5.3k
I make a lot of enemies without intending,
They outnumber me greatly with their size
but they cannot withstand the wrath of fury;
I come ****** but unbowed to these wimps
Hence, they unleash a band of Anthropophagus
Well, I have the ***** to slain these monsters
The sight of them is infuriating, less frightening
I gave them something to mourn - I have to
Again, I walked away from the battle unbowed
Because I have what it takes to **** a mockingbird
But, it didn't make me feel better or worse
I have to put up with them and their excesses
Now, you will understand why I never turn to see
who stab me in the back - it's not worth turning
Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 2:07 PM UTC
to the girl who takes words out of people's minds
who speaks in metaphors, touches thousands of hearts
to the girl who aches for her prince to find
her poetry where it bled in the sea of rose quartz
to the girl who lived for two decades today
to the one who loves to the moon, back and around
the one who sits at the back of the cafe
writing for people whom she surrounds
happiest birthday my dear mermaid of poetry
you've been staying strong for twenty years now
it takes time to be the great person you want to be
you just have to keep your head unbowed
and things may be hard, may be tougher than this
and deadlines will keep trying to break you down
when the time comes you think you won't ever experience bliss
remember you're a mermaid, you can never drown
you've already been living for 7,300 days
eighty season changes in mermaid's time
you have survived all that crazy life chase
i think, my darling, you will be fine.
Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 1:04 PM UTC
crammed in corrals
hissing whispers of escape
and hoping their
size and shade
captivates
the next sticky-fingered cart rider
mother's mind so mobbed
and arms so grocery-laden
that the ribbed
and loosely coiled ribbon
remains unknotted, unbowed
to slip
from pudgy-fingered grips
the orb bobs and sways–
laughing, helium-high
as it makes its getaway
unknowingly following Icarus
to a solar ******
that is, if beak or plane
doesn't reach it first
POP!
shattered and tattered, irreparable
it plummets back to earth
its noose
still dangling from its neck
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 2:04 PM UTC
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head. is ****** but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
2.7k
On the day
I was baptized,
I sat in the back pew
of my church,
weeping.
It took a long time
for me to arrive
on the bank
of the
River Jordan
that Day of
All Saints.
Flanked by my
two young sons
also getting
dipped
that day,
moved
me to
solemn
tears;
humbled
that I
would wade
into the living
waters
with my sons
as brothers
in the
Living
Christ.
My fount
of tears
rolled
cause
I finally
arrived
as one of
Gods
own.
Today
I saw
Maya Angelou
weep.
She received
The Presidential
Medal of Freedom.
She sat while the
President placed
it around her neck.
She did not rise to
receive it.
I think she was
sitting in a wheelchair.
She looked tired
but she was not feeble.
She was humble
yet remained unbowed.
Her eyes were closed
as they read a citation
about her; yet I know
her vision remains
keen.
She did not look up.
She quietly wept.
The President kissed
her cheek after
he clasped the award
around her neck.
Maya Angelou
never
looked up.
She just
wept.
Maya,
fellow award
recipient
John Lewis
and
their
son
Barack
Obama
have
arrived;
sitting at
America's
table
of freedom,
as
Maya Angelou
gently
weeps.
2/15/11
Oakland
jbm
Nov 6, 2011
Nov 6, 2011 at 6:15 PM UTC
When my soul is free, set my body on a pyre alight,
free from mortality and from pain.
Send my form to join my soul in fire and flight,
and watch the blaze eat what's left away.
If tears fall as I hope they might,
down faces creased with love and age,
let them be freed as well, and blur their sight
with tears of acceptance; joyous and gay.
When my soul is free, let their souls be bright,
not tortured as I let them see me now.
Though my soul was broken through my life,
let my body burn bright; let the fire roar loud.
Let me turn my eyes skyward, head unbowed;
My form; My soul; My whole bathed in light,
not dark and cold as I feel it now.
Let the fire roar loud and banish night.
And when ashes fall from that heated height.
They will freeze the fingers that vainly grasp,
and my soul will glow in blue and white,
and whisper consolation to earthly Hells unasked,
and though cold like death and hot like pain,
though the pyre devours what yet remains,
let the fire burn fast and the night die low,
as my soul finds repose in a fire with ash like snow.
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 6:59 PM UTC
A harsh wind howls over the mountains
But I stand tall, alone and unbowed
With my wild hair and pelts
I am the barbarian, fierce and proud
No weapon can fell me, no man can best me
For I vanquish all with my axe and my shield
Flee now before my might and wrath
To my power surrender, to my fury yield
Like the wild north wind I come
Laying low all in sight
So cower in fear, you soft ones
And flee fast into the night
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 8:37 PM UTC
Through His mercy we have survived.
Wrath sparing
Temple and parthenon,
Synagogue covered
In moss,
Castles ****** but unbowed
For us to
Remember.
Allowed us to keep
Corners of
Eden:
A bedroom wall slathered
In picture frames,
A front porch dusted with snow—
Fragments
We tore away with
Tears clouding our eyes.
Feb 9, 2014
Feb 9, 2014 at 3:35 AM UTC
A little taste of tarmac, Bobby
Let me spin my wheels
A little taste of the long flat road
I’ve forgotten how it feels
A little taste of tarmac, Bobby
Make my chainwheel hum
A little taste of the up hill grind
Thirty miles and some
A little taste of tarmac, Bobby
Way out among the farms
A little taste of dust on your lips
My metal soul would calm
Climb up onto the saddle, Bobby
Clip into the pedals tight
Feel my frame respond to you
You always crank me right
Stay with me in the saddle, Bobby
Our ride will be as sweet
As the wash of lactic acid
From your shoulders to your feet
It’s good with you on my saddle, Bobby
I know you feel the same
You push my pedals hard now
And laughing call my name
Lean easy in those corners, Bobby
Accelerating the while
My frame is all aglow now
On your face I sense a smile
Flying home with you, Bobby
You get the adrenaline kick
It makes you sprint the last half mile
And smooth out the left hand flick
A little taste of tarmac, Bobby
I am waiting stem unbowed
Come find me soon and ride me
Before my rims corrode
A little taste of tarmac, Bobby
Make me spin my wheels
A little taste of any road
Or forget how good it feels.
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 11:55 AM UTC
If this hallmark of a romantic gift
I give
is a bit fumbled,
and its professions of heartfelt wishes
feel
slack in their graham-cracker-box repackaging;
If the candy-coated wrapper’s fit
is left
misfitting around its dented-in red corners,
and the lippiness of its stick
has come
unstuck at each crushed-down end;
If the pink bow
stands unbowed
and frowns as unpretty as any crime-scene picture,
while it raises
a frayed end with the victim’s gone-through motion
entreating
death for its last tug free;
It could be
my feeling heart’s once-bold youth
isn't
entirely found in it,
or it could be
the entirety
bound in it,
my heart,
couldn’t find its way out.
Feb 12, 2011
Feb 12, 2011 at 9:03 AM UTC
My hope during troubled times
When my knees are firmly holding ground,
The alter pros' an Angel's muse,
From whence I poise my fortitude.
My head unbowed lifted to my hope,
My courage determined, forged the night.
Shall I regard each battle Heaven's gain,
Arrived I at fate's ironic refrain?
No nobler mind had life to live
Save the sacrifice on cross and tomb,
Delivered souls too lame to tell
The valiant heart of mine EMANUEL.
EASTER MONDAY 2015
Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 2:15 PM UTC
A yellow brick road glistens before me
A sign dubbed “Straight is the best way to go”
Even though an ominous aura flows
My inner voice screams
“Chaos will erupt if you walk further”
But my body moves independently
Down the sunny-patched pavement
The bright yellow shade grays
The unbowed path jerks far left
Away from the right destination
The map displays a straight yellow line
Heading directly to the city of great prospects
The mapped road looks as secure as the Great Wall
Running at ease without obstructions
Yet in reality
I ventured into the Desert of Disasters
The powdered sand deadening my progress
The volatile sandstorms
Stalls my venture
And conceals the route
Of the yellow brick road
Little water left
The path nowhere in sight
Only minuscule hope and perpetual effort
Can reveal the true path to salvation
Apr 20, 2013
Apr 20, 2013 at 8:40 AM UTC
In the silence before the bell rings clear,
A woman stands with no trace of fear.
Her fists are clenched, her gaze is tight,
She knows the battle won't end tonight.
The ropes may bind, but not her soul,
For every strike, she takes control.
In every round, a lesson’s found,
A warrior’s spirit, unbowed, unbound.
She dances with shadows, swift on her feet,
Turning each challenge into defeat.
Her gloves may bruise, but never break,
For in her heart, no room for fake.
Life throws punches, hard and fast,
But she’s built to endure, to last.
Through every fall, she rises tall,
A testament that we can have it all.
Each jab, a truth; each hook, a fight,
She battles in darkness to find the light.
In her eyes, a fire, in her heart, a song,
She teaches the world where we belong.
For in the ring, as in life, we see,
Strength is not in muscle, but in being free.
To stand, to fight, to never flee,
She’s a champion of life’s wild sea.
This is her lesson, her enduring creed,
To rise, to fight, to always lead.
In the ring, she finds her way,
And shows us all we can win the day.
Aug 21, 2024
Aug 21, 2024 at 9:13 PM UTC
#
Traveling through an ocean-like space
I'm breaking like the waves
I arrive and crush on your shores
crawl into each and every pore
I dissolve into foam
which follows a storm
The storm becomes me
I rage over rock and tree
Devastation as I take
make room for renewal and remake
I brush away home and town
these empty houses, I tear them down
no place left to hide for the hunger
shall these demons come so I can pull them under
Make them eat the dirt they keep feeding to you and me
I will make them swallow and suffocate their glee
And when darkness comes I will be thunder
lightening the sky and breaking it asunder
And through this opening you will descend
everything that has been broken you can mend
Don't despair, love, take pride in me
The force of nature you clearly see
Believe in this inner symbiosis
Create your own apotheosis
Everything is well
Even in these dark times in which you dwell
This nature will never leave you
nor will it ever betray what is true
See through the eyes of your keeper
even when you think you can't sink deeper
What you are you shall hold dear
and walk this blackness without fear
Whatever wounds you carry away from this tourney
it's worth every step of this journey
Fight until your blood runs dry
pick up your worth again and again until you die
no need to run, no need to hurry
believe in your nature and don't worry
Sleep will come eventually
until then rage against life's brevity
You stand unbowed and unbroken by your ache
and leave life in your wake
#
Oct 3, 2018
Oct 3, 2018 at 1:02 PM UTC
an oddity, an aberration
an icon, an inspiration
like the fabled camel through the eye of the needle
i am a miracle
through centuries of strife
i’m awake
through stories of me and mine
i’m awake
beyond chains and wings
i’m awake
in the ***** of the day
i’m awake
in the freedom of the night
i’m awake
unbowed, untied
i’m awake
in war and in peace
i’m awake
can you really look me in the eye
and tell me I’m not?
can you do me an injustice
and not feel terrified?
can you shove me aside
and feel complete?
can you bury my story
and live undead?
can you take what is mine
and stay forgiven?
i am compassion, i am pride
i am I
i am the earth and the sky
i am the source of life
i am gold that is purified
i am the carbon that has crystallized
i am every woman
i am I.
- Vijayalakshmi Harish
24.12.2012
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Dec 24, 2012
Dec 24, 2012 at 7:42 AM UTC
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is ****** but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
1.5k
i didn’t come here to smell like roses.
the stain in my shirt; blue paint crystalized in cotton
and greased in sawdusty sweat,
goes unwashed as waterfowl feathers-
an oil skin to shed the lake.
i didn’t come here to build an empire.
the lumber walls and archways go unbowed on the stage
measured to the bone of fingers, polished by blades
made to be perfect and immortal for a day,
then razed and unchained
and quicker than a sandcastle-
laid back into the bay.
i didn’t come here learn a trade
every skill is the same; do as instructed,
think for yourself, know when to push the bit into biting the wood
and when to put your drill back on to the shelf,
when to re-cut what doesn’t feel right
and when to trust the math
over your own sight.
i didn’t come here for the photograph
or your theater arts career path
or to sing through the saw screams
even though i do
i came here, where we know
the characters are in costume
the creations will be forgotten
where the applause wont reach my ego
and feed the ghost of self
that wants to captain without crew
i came here to work, where only work is true.
Dec 13, 2011
Dec 13, 2011 at 6:42 AM UTC
Lost on the plains of ancient Ílion,
Treading the windswept soil and stone,
I sense the ghosts of warriors and horsemen,
Of dark-eyed women and jealous kings.
Their history scattered, burned and ruined,
Pressed by time and scavenging hordes,
Yet restored to life in song and verse.
When poets and imagining hearts were stirred
To find heroes among brutal soldiers
And reasons for violence masked as greed.
Shades of blue lost to time reappear.
In their winding brains goddesses walked,
Holding an aegis made that bore a Gorgon’s face
Or gods who guided arrows and chose the dead.
Bards ever kept alive the rival gods
Before whom King Priam bowed and Achilles defiled.
Across the grape-blood waters of the Hellespont,
Aphrodite savored her own victory and watched
As Paris still kept the women she had given him.
Love was not among her calculations
Nor those of Zeus when he forbade hindrance
By the gods, who yet battled among themselves.
As mortal enemies fought the coming of allies.
For ten years, ships and horses swarmed to aid
The unbowed city, even Memnon and Penthesilia,
Both slain by the sword for reasons then forgot,
So their sacrifices failed to dent a lust for blood.
Yet armies tired and war ended, as all wars do,
Through fatigue or fire or the scattering of slaves.
Now time has whitened the ruins and sands
And Boreas sweeps away the shards of stain
That dyed the cities’ walls and columns.
The scarlet buried below Herculaneum is gone,
And saffron gowns on dancing virgins,
All the horses’ indigo manes and hyakinthos
Sandals of Achilles, whose mother dyed them
Before he sailed, forgetting his Stygian bath.
He was clad in red to hide his blood,
So when wounded, his men would not cower.
Yet one arrow alone took his life; how telling
That more valiant men lost theirs closer to the soul!
Gone are the sheep, red-fleeced with madder
And argamon robes of brides and Cybele’s priests.
No sacrificial lambs or holy men walk here now,
On the bone white land and relics of a kingdom,
Yet the north wind, the lone god, continues to wail.
March 5, 2020
Mar 13, 2020
Mar 13, 2020 at 8:09 AM UTC
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeoning of chance
My head is ****** but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.
በጨለማ ውስጥ
ከጥግጥግ ከከበበኝ
ድቅድቅ ጨለማ
ለማይበገረው መንፈሴ
ለአምላክ ያለህ የምስጋና ዜማ
ነኝ የማሰማ፣
ሑኔታዎች ቢያሸርቡም
ተሰቅቄ አልጮህኩም፣
የፈለገውን እኩይ ጣጣ
ራስ ላይ የሚወጣ
ቢሆንም እጣ
ይዞ የሚመጣ
ብናድድም ግና አቀርቅሬ
ወይ ተመርሬ ኣላውቅም!
ከዚያ የንዴትና የእንባ
ባድማ ባሻገር
ይታየኛል የመከራ ጥላ
የወረረው መንደር!
አንድ ወቅት ለሌላ
ከነግሳንግሱ
ቢሆንም የሚለቅ ተራ፣
ዘመን ያገኘኛል
ከአይበገሬዎች ጎራ
ሆኜ መጻኢ እጣዬን የማልፈራ!
መሃንዲሰ ነኝ
እጣዬን የምቀይር ቀጥቅጬ፣
የነፍሴን መርከብ
መሪ ጨብጬ!
(ዊሊያም እርነሰት ሔንሊይ) //
Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 1:35 AM UTC
I walked under the purple sky.
The moon peaking behind a thin cloud.
Soft Stars attached to it, twinkling high.
I felt like royalty walking by.
The colour so pretty, rare and proud.
Though I can't touch it, I let out a sigh.
I open my heart to a lie.
That beauty remains and unbowed.
All things shall say goodbye.
Apr 5, 2023
Apr 5, 2023 at 12:25 PM UTC
Five years hiding
preparing and binding
reading and writing
Five years bent over old crumbling scrolls
weaving old words into wards
molding spells of fire and lightning
Five years plotting underground
in an unending round
of clandestine sabotage
with knives and lies
Five years to find men and women,
willing to help him atone
and the tyrant to overthrow
Five years to forge
them the swords and axes
shields and armour
that would crash and crack,
splinter and shatter edge to edge
for the sake of
his soul
Five years to the day,
the bells and trumpets rang
The horns were blown
and drums beaten
The earth was shaken
as the host marched forth
Five years to the day
the banners were flown
and in defiance of the dark king
the white pennants bore a fiery eye
At its head hooded
strode a man with a glowing staff
unbent unbroken and unbowed
proud, determined and uncowed
ready now at last
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 6:23 AM UTC