"unconquerable" poems
BLESSED be this place,
More blessed still this tower;
A ****** arrogant power
Rose out of the race
Uttering, mastering it,
Rose like these walls from these
Storm-beaten cottages --
In mockery I have set
A powerful emblem up,
And sing it rhyme upon rhyme
In mockery of a time
HaIf dead at the top.
Alexandria's was a beacon tower, and Babylon's
An image of the moving heavens, a log-book of the
sun's journey and the moon's;
And Shelley had his towers, thought's crowned powers
he called them once.
I declare this tower is my symbol; I declare
This winding, gyring, spiring treadmill of a stair is my
ancestral stair;
That Goldsmith and the Dean, Berkeley and Burke
have travelled there.
Swift beating on his breast in sibylline frenzy blind
Because the heart in his blood-sodden breast had
dragged him down into mankind,
Goldsmith deliberately sipping at the honey-pot of his
mind,
And haughtier-headed Burke that proved the State a
tree,
That this unconquerable labyrinth of the birds, cen-
tury after century,
Cast but dead leaves to mathematical equality;
And God-appointed Berkeley that proved all things a
dream,
That this pragmatical, preposterous pig of a world, its
farrow that so solid seem,
Must vanish on the instant if the mind but change its
theme;
Saeva Indignatio and the labourer's hire,
The strength that gives our blood and state magnani-
mity of its own desire;
Everything that is not God consumed with intellectual
fire.
III
The purity of the unclouded moon
Has flung its atrowy shaft upon the floor.
Seven centuries have passed and it is pure,
The blood of innocence has left no stain.
There, on blood-saturated ground, have stood
Soldier, assassin, executioner.
Whether for daily pittance or in blind fear
Or out of abstract hatred, and shed blood,
But could not cast a single jet thereon.
Odour of blood on the ancestral stair!
And we that have shed none must gather there
And clamour in drunken frenzy for the moon.
IV
Upon the dusty, glittering windows cling,
And seem to cling upon the moonlit skies,
Tortoiseshell butterflies, peacock butterflies,
A couple of night-moths are on the wing.
Is every modern nation like the tower,
Half dead at the top? No matter what I said,
For wisdom is the property of the dead,
A something incompatible with life; and power,
Like everything that has the stain of blood,
A property of the living; but no stain
Can come upon the visage of the moon
When it has looked in glory from a cloud.
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a breath of fresh air
tickles still-waters
a lone swan's quill
let fall, takes flight
carpe diem ―
nigh weightless,
buoyantly skitters
across the water,
laissez faire;
barely dimpling
the shallow peace
on a lake in the wood
a wild feather's
mindless pirouettes
emanate from
the steeping silence
lapping its
superficial refection
the true nature
of wildness,
unspoken freedom,
an untamed
wilder – ness
skims the skinny waters
seeking their own level;
leaving no trace
of ever being containable
like a breath of fresh air
reinvigorates
unconquerable souls
touching in the
conscious moment ―
a gentle passing breeze
arousing a rogue gust
Jesse Stillwater
01 June 2018
Jun 1, 2018
Jun 1, 2018 at 11:16 AM UTC
Such A Lovely Bubble Rise
Bulbs And Spark To The Heart
I Kept Watching You With My Eyes
Hearing Your Voice Awakens Art
I Picked The Words In My Poem
To Point Them On You Like Apollo's Arc
On My Eyes A Desire For The Aim
Reaches Jupiter To Leave A Mark
So I Can Say It On Each Verse
Through The Soft Arrow Of Anteros
Till The Endless Part Of The Universe
Beyond The Level Of The Erotes
With A Sublime Blessed Grace
I Described The Beauty Of Your Face
Pale White Conquered The Place
Such A Stardust Perfected The Space
Then You Paused The Time!, It Never Ends!
Astonished While Our Spirits Ascends
So I Drew You On Every Potential Star
With Endless Feelings! Unconquerable Grips!
You Rised And Forgot Who The Humans Are!
You Teased The Sun To Touch Your Lips
Once It Got Very Close, Still Pretty Far!
Your Care Launched A Thousand Ships
While Your Innocence Nags And Glare
What An Existence!, Such A Cosmos She Grips
A Galaxy That Craters The Beauty Of Mercury!
Drives Venus Jealous To His Very End!
Then Uranus Gave Up On Such A Mystery!
Pluto Wolf Whistled His Frozen Wind!
Mars Was Not Able To Belive His Own Eye!
Neptune Was Busy Losing His Own Mind!
Saturn And His Ring Felt Like A Fly!
Earth Was The Blessed Land!
Yet Jupiter Was The One To Tie!
Author/ Aladdin Aures H.
Aug 16, 2019
Aug 16, 2019 at 5:15 AM UTC
“A real man,”
She said,
“Must not be afraid to show his sensitive side,
But he better swing his *****
When he needs to.
He must be strong
But his strength must not make him weak.
He must be smooth,
But he must not slip or slide away.
He must be refined
Not ground thin.
He must be proud
But not haughty.
And then she smiled
Her cavalier smile.
And I said
“Let me show you.
Let me show you what a real man looks like.”
So I showed her.
I showed her my death
And rebirth,
I showed her my missing rib
And broken teeth,
I showed her my lying mouth
And my truthful eyes,
I showed her my deific wrath
And I showed her
The book I wrote
In ancient tongues
A thousand years ago
I showed her that holy book,
My seditious tyrannical spirit,
My unconquerable will to dominate
Then I showed her my hand,
Its fine lines,
And the diacritic print of each finger.
Then she showed me,
Purpose.
Jun 10, 2011
Jun 10, 2011 at 7:50 PM UTC
Oh! mother where are the snow falls of yester years?
Where are the great king Ashoka and the world master Sankaracharya?
Where is the ujjayani that was immersed in the literary effluence of
The great dramatist Kalidasa?
Where is the light that shone from the piercing eyes of the warrior
Queen Rudrama Devi and the Goddess Durga?
Where are the snow falls of yester years?
Where is the buzzing sound of the bees that came from the corridors
Of the great king Shajahan? Where are the echoing sounds of the war monger
The sword Thikkana?Where is the gallooping white horse climbed by the unconquerable warrior queen of Jhansi Lakshmi Bai?
Where are the snow falls of yester years?
Where is the fire that emanated from the broad shoulders of
The inimitable king and connoisseur of art, Sree Krishna devaraya?
What happened to the living breaths of Balachandra, the young warrior
And brahmanaya, The great warrior and social reformer?
Where are the snow falls of yester years?
Where are the kings, the great poets, the warriors, the chaste queens?
Where have they gone?
Where are the foot prints of the golden wings of time that fanned and fled?
Oh! Mother, Where are the snow falls of yester years? Where are the snow falls of yester years?
Sep 25, 2011
Sep 25, 2011 at 1:10 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.
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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.
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******
A symbol of denial, congeniality, and assurance of love;
the fate of maternity, motherhood, that is witnessed
and cherished from afar.
From a sacred little haven;
from a struggle of motherly defense.
O ******
Temptations are to you never a bother,
in the tempests of lush dreams,
the draining of purity,
and veritable sensations.
Steadiness is your notion;
it barely leaves your mind
you may be deeply hurt
but never hurt,
you may be a stranger
but your grace is your power.
Truth that is unpardonable,
veraciousness at my simplest words,
clarity that is gleaming in your eye,
a token of pleasure but indestructible affection;
adorable as you are,
serenity is beyond question;
dreams are but inseparable from your docile life.
O ****** the sweetness and gentleness of thy eyes
are my irreplaceable silence,
my appraised soul,
and my most resolute
and irrepressible invocation.
O ****** one that is so rare a rose
Many as in the May-day dance are tainted;
marks of annoyance, omens of indulgence.
With hunger for nothing but moans;
unsober groans, and quickening breaths in paces of outward satisfaction;
intoxicated desires but unloving movements;
on the grounds for endless dancing;
there is the thirst for grips, the grossest of stateliness!
Voluptuous romance, perfidious touches, and
false-hearted toys!
In the wakeful dreams of which
I long for you, a handful of thy chastest kisses!
I pray for your hands, so delicate
as mine, how they shall fit into each other!
I long for your lips, your spotless, uncorrupted cheeks,
My demand is for your hands;
for sanity, and sincerest cordiality
Despite of my guilt and former unconsciousness
I shall amend my grief for you,
for you only,
for oureth perfect, unconquerable happiness,
and the union of our souls
in a day of holy matrimony.
Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 7:35 AM UTC
"She did the laundry
in the mirror of me
I saw myself in
the mirror and disagreed
with the smell,
The thought of you
was beautiful,
but I was wrong,
and a feeling of discontent
-ment
came over me,"
Misspellings
Mispronunciations
An unconquerable world
of big money
I parted ways with the large
and saw another even larger world,
One that was intelligent and reads
the Wall Street Journal, listens to NPR,
and says "wow" at the sound of hearing
one million dollars, or upon hearing about
San Francisco start-ups,
or Silicon Valley.
Or the opposite, in some ways, but still very
similar to - Virginia Woolf.
whose book on feminism
which I'm unable to explain fully other than
to say that she suggests
that women only need
a bedroom, money, clothes, etc.,
or rather, less than etc.
in that, they need little, but only the bare supplies.
That they should be able to supply themselves with what they need
for when their husband, which, you know, is not required, in her eyes,
for when he separates from her
and leaves her 'in the dust,' alone without anything,
perhaps only with a child, or in another instance, estate-less,
with only a white dress, really more of kitchen-robe than anything else;
like Virginia Woolf says, we should really try and dismantle the patriarchy
that we write and tell about. Reader, what do you after reading a story, article, or book on radical or moderate feminism say? The boys, like me, who will tell, or, try to tell their perspective of the book and say to the closest person around them, "I just read a great book by Virginia Woolf, she brings to mind an image of a university with white buildings and ends of roofs of university buildings leading along to the the main hall of architecture buildings, with sidewalks pristine and underneath people walking in their sweaters, collegiate, and later to make their way to art history classes in the fall evening. So, like Virginia Woolf, who makes you ask why you're not at the Parthenon, but instead are inside of your house, in a city that you don't want to be in, at a hospital, in your apartment, or surrounded by whoever, she nevertheless gives you have a feeling of longing-ness and a strong emotion of want. Virginia Woolf when will we go to Greece together? What do you know about Athens and classical architecture, I nearly beg you.
December 30th 2018 7:11am
Dec 31, 2018
Dec 31, 2018 at 9:51 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.
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The fish, like people, swimming in sync.
All swimming around a tank disguised as magic- a world pretending to be beautiful.
The only difference is the sense of indifferent certainty.
The fish completely accept how small they are in the myriad of birth, death and evolution.
We are doomed to question.
I feel that they are accepting of futility rather than ignorant of it, as believed by most.
The sharks are the most magnificent, they have power to destroy yet they live through peace- that is the most beautiful phenomenon of all.
Most of us, all of them, seem unbothered by this perpetual routine.
My eyes begin to mirror the contents of the salty tank, filling with magical mystery.
He echoed my thoughts. The boy I am completely inlove with kissed me under a sky of turtles and whispering kelp.
That moment exists with the few that convince me there is more than an ancient, repetitive cycle.
He is alive with me. Believes that I am more than the half-life I am doomed to live. Always my first love to have awakened my belief in grace, my craving to live in the unconquerable light.
Teal glow, shark shadows and moon-cold kisses.
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 10:46 AM UTC
Oh love! that stronger art than Wine,
Pleasing Delusion, Witchery divine,
Wont to be priz'd above all Wealth,
Disease that has more Joys than Health;
Though we blaspheme thee in our Pain,
And of Tyranny complain,
We are all better'd by thy Reign.
What Reason never can bestow,
We to this useful Passion owe:
Love wakes the dull from sluggish ease,
And learns a Clown the Art to please:
Humbles the Vain, kindles the Cold,
Makes Misers free, and Cowards bold;
And teaches airy Fops to think.
When full brute Appetite is fed,
And choakd the Glutton lies and dead;
Thou new Spirits dost dispense,
And fine'st the gross Delights of Sense.
Virtue's unconquerable Aid
That against Nature can persuade;
And makes a roving Mind retire
Within the Bounds of just Desire.
Chearer of Age, Youth's kind Unrest,
And half the Heaven of the blest!
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I do believe that, people's
breaking moments aren't spectacles,
to be watched like carousels in a carnival,
not free for all(s).....like publc seesaws
anyone rides....sees what comes and goes
my folks' words play in my mind, like a spell
"don't let your eyes stay wet too long, they swell,
one day, those tears will make you unconquerable
your fences and walls ultimately become impregnable."
...but.......there's a truth that's unavoidable
there're days when we're not that invincible
::::::::
sometimes, we melt, we flow
hurt by people's deeds, we don't even know
why.....the days, at times, become too cold,
confusing...other times, painfully bold
we break, we droop............we fall
we realize...we can't always be that tall
::::::::
we become...........frangible
just as breakable
just as fragile
as porcelain
......................................
because
we're human.
Sally
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
August 8, 2017
Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 5:16 PM UTC
my head is full of helium
i am floating away from this earth
into the frightening darkness of infinite space
drawn to the twinkling stars
and their promise of an everlasting light
but then i met you
and for a while it was nice to feel
the weight of your arm around my shoulders
your hand wrapped gently around my side
your knees knocking softly against mine
the weight of you holding me on the ground
for a while, we are happy
you are a warmth
you are a shelter
you are perfect
but i can't help that i am always floating up
our embrace is just the force of you
holding me down
for every moment that we are together
i have never been happier
so why can't i fight the unconquerable urge to set you free?
Jan 22, 2012
Jan 22, 2012 at 1:23 AM UTC
Oh love! that stronger art than Wine,
Pleasing Delusion, Witchery divine,
Wont to be priz'd above all Wealth,
Disease that has more Joys than Health;
Though we blaspheme thee in our Pain,
And of Tyranny complain,
We are all better'd by thy Reign.
What Reason never can bestow,
We to this useful Passion owe:
Love wakes the dull from sluggish ease,
And learns a Clown the Art to please:
Humbles the Vain, kindles the Cold,
Makes Misers free, and Cowards bold;
And teaches airy Fops to think.
When full brute Appetite is fed,
And choakd the Glutton lies and dead;
Thou new Spirits dost dispense,
And fine'st the gross Delights of Sense.
Virtue's unconquerable Aid
That against Nature can persuade;
And makes a roving Mind retire
Within the Bounds of just Desire.
Chearer of Age, Youth's kind Unrest,
And half the Heaven of the blest!
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Poems, the consciousness of minutes
Plucked like corn from the ear
Of language,
Between the here and now
Of echoes reflection,
A door to everywhere and nowhere
At the desk,
An escape from the peoples,
From the abyss that fills,
From the sulfuric melancholy
Where unconquerable ruins
Lay at the foot of memory
Armed with an assault of words.
The beneficent metaphorical
Divinities of the moments we
Connect like spinning webs,
You, me, him, her,
They, poets and every one else.
We compact time ripping off
The facelessness of vanities,
Provokers of thought,
Erupting the sensitivity and
Stirring the pit of emotion.
Every poet must know a lover
To cut the cord from the ink
And commit to the experience
Of the realised, words become
What we have done.
Nouns, pronouns, adjectives, these things
Are tools to the inner soul,
We become prophetic and speak
The Fallen,
We know the children of dust
And ignite the realised poem
In each of them,
This is how poetry exists,
How philosophy exists,
And love,
And even hate.
And if these things don't exist,
Then I do not exist,
Neither do you.
Somewhere in the darkness
A prisoner of words begins
Writing the light brighter
than any under the sun.
The first of first, her hair in the
Motion as she flicks slender finger
With her eyes gushing in a half
Smile, the music on the radio,
The memory of Mother, everything,
Everywhere, poetry is life,
It writes itself!
And here in this decalogue,
Every love survives,
Every pain manifest,
Streaking in the heart the
Blood races to the fingers and
Bleeds words to paper.
Every poem is a sacrifice,
Time, energy, pieces
Of you, pieces of I
Scattered in the penumbra,
We become as crystalline structures,
Transparent translation of the
Spirit that burns.
Every man and woman
Writes the experience,
Life and its unique constellation
Of emotions, enormously
We must write the world,
The poem is real,
The images speaks itself.
Poetry is life,
Deserve your poem.
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 5:24 PM UTC
From dawn until dusk, you are here,
Meandering images smiling sweetly,
Your words, a thousand-fold message,
Caress me inside, soothing my soul,
Bringing perpetual joy to my mind,
For you are all, my loving constant.
My companion, thoughts of you jostle,
Real-time memories holding sway, yes,
Corralling projected musings, taming,
Horned unicorn harnessing wild stallions,
Calming dreams, wayward ripples in time,
Cosseting us with complete and utter love.
Whole, unified spiritually, emotionally,
We become unconquerable, unassailable,
Our Aztalan utopia, home to our musings,
Deep stronghold, fastened by pure love,
I kiss your humble mind, sincere heart,
Forging a blended alloy of true happiness.
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 9:57 AM UTC
your symptoms are mine. we attach dead cells to living gods, you and i.
Golgotha spawn, writhe in leather trousers
to harlequin the marrow of our dire pipes !
to leap and jeer in tandem
that's how love does the impossible
with your mundane.
we are the abattoir of our stoic cow
your symptoms are mine. i see how you might think me mad; you not i.
but this is the dream fleck of your unkissed
a sweltering bloat of frozen hope
flogging the wolf in a gleam
of campfire exodus
and dust.
your nexus is the heart of the most free, a slim gorge of Krakens
yawning fresh hell and fjords of unconquerable silence.
yours is the tomb I am used too.
where we resurrect
we die laughing.
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 11:37 AM UTC
"Meditate"
Tattoo my brain with infinity
Cure shallowness
bring about contentment
cause we're all blameless in our small existence.
I truly believe meditation's not an end
When, before, I thought it was the key to heavenly eternity
I broke another misconception
It's all you need for eternity
No, just me
Nothing without me, that's free
A being being it.
"Social Mara: Lord of False Appearances"
Searching for past life memories
effigies of more miserable days
painted positively with the longing of their highlights
and the possibilities we already threw away
My present just hangs, suspended in contemplation
for tip of the brain answers
Need to reach the primitive stem
Just live, now
I think the way is already paved
by these split second sparks through the cauliflower mush
Instinct.
"A Ceaseless Conquering of the Unconquerable: A Love for Becoming"
Weird coincidental sayings and labels
Think things, or some happenings
come full circle
Like a defense of solipsism
a dream shared by the lucid
This is my world
and I only almost have control
Stomach in Shambala shambles
Can I face sobriety with a drunk childish high
from the atman in my eyes?
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 11:06 PM UTC
To the boy with the saxophone skills,
I miss you.
I never said it and now I see that it was bad.
I hope I see you again.
To the girl who ******* me over,
**** you ❤️**
To my old youth leaders from church,
You left and so did I.
You might come back, but I won't.
To my sister,
Yes, I'm still ****** off.
I had to call 911 for you.
I'm glad you're okay.
To my first crush,
Was I too much?
To my cat,
You only like me because I feed you.
That's okay.
To the girl who is quieter than I am,
Speak up, honey.
They won't see your brilliance so make them hear it.
To the homeless man on Jackson Road,
Where are the shoes my mother bought you?
To my other sister,
You are a whirlwind of emotions.
You are amazing.
You are unstoppable.
Grow up and be unconquerable.
To the mailman,
I'm sorry that we're always ordering so many things online.
I'm sorry that they were big packages.
To the cute boy at HEB,
I know you work there.
Yes, I look for you every time.
To my cousin Denisse on my mothers side,
You're annoying.
Shut up.
To Denisse's older sister, Monica,
I'm sorry about your sister.
I'm sure you've hit her.
To my "father",
It's been years since I last saw you.
It's been years since you last stopped calling.
To my friends,
I know I'm an idiot.
I know I'm sarcastic.
I know I can be mean, but trust me, I don't mean it.
Please forgive me.
To the man at the post office,
Get over it.
It's your job.
To my 7th grade Texas history teacher,
You taught me the meaning of sarcasm.
I have yet to perfect it.
To my 9th grade history teacher,
You were the sweetest teacher I have ever had.
You taught me the meaning of procrastination.
To my best friend,
You are my soul mate and will always be my better, whiter half.
To my brother,
You might think that I hate you, but trust me.
I don't.
To my stepfather (the second one),
You were always my favorite one.
To the stray cat that attacks mine,
Go away.
To the missing sock that always stays lost,
Where have you gone and how can I find you?
To my UIL Ready Writing sponsor,
I enjoyed spending those Saturdays with you.
You taught me where the word ******** came from.
Thank you.
To the boy that my best friend dated for a while,
She did like you, I promise.
Her love was just too strong and burned way too fast.
Better luck next time.
To the computer-programming textbook that I've had under my bed for a year,
I don't regret that decision.
To my mother,
I love you.
Thank you for raising me the way you did.
To the kids who skipped and smoked at school,
How I wish I could join you.
To the Bowery Poetry Club in New York City,
One day I will go back and you will be open and I will perform.
To the boy I love,
I hope that one day you find someone that you love as much as I love you.
I hope it's me.
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 12:37 AM UTC
After church that night,
i had no ride, there were no lights
Just walked determinedly...
That no harm would accost me
That no raindrops upon me would fall
Were my prayers, my most fervent calls,
I played deaf to howling dogs
Never mind the croaking of the hiding frogs
I had no cane to wag or shoo away the dogs that followed
But i grew cold, I knew they were breathing, these faceless shadows
I had no more strength in store
But fear melted and came out of my pores
I believed, someone unconquerable kept my fears at bay
While a pearly full moon, lighted my way.
The road was still long, and sloping
And i sensed the rain coming
But how could it happen tonight
With a moon in sight?
For some reason, i looked up and it was gone!
Couldn't see, even a spoon-shaped one
There was just a soft beam,
Shedding dismal light, it had seemed.
And i, was now catching my breath---
Almost all was hushed by the darkness
But, all took light, as i passed by neighbors' houses
Under the navy blue sky, the wind gave a not so gentle blow
I looked up, saw my pearly moon back...i was led home, by a glow.
The glow...His words, shone bright upon me,
though i saw dark, the Glow from the Gospel, guided me
they echoed that night of anticipated mass:
"If you remain in me and my words in you, then you will ask
for anything...and you shall have it.."
He kept me safe, and so be it
God's words proved so true
From fear and danger, He delivered me, He got me through...
(Happened the night of May 2, 2015...)
Sally
Copyright May 22, 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
*
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 3:08 AM UTC
Not for the faint-hearted
The highest peak is
Unconquerable is its tip
Cold and misty,
A stairway to heaven!
Bold climbers ignore
Step is the slope,
Help is the rope,
And the peak is their hope.
Surmounting the rocks
Resisting the freezing air
Holding back against the pull of gravity
Should the climbers do
With the vertical
That seemed infinite.
Escapade began.
In their heart, they held
The step and hope.
Crouching on the frosting rocks
They moved higher and higher.
'Till they could glance
At the abyss of horizons.
Passing the halfway,
Wild fortune they met.
Wind with wrath roared.
There came a snowstorm!
Hope began to melt
Their shriveling souls, too.
Buried.
Vertically jeopardized.
Lives ended with the limit.
Another team conquered
The mighty mountain.
Aroused a sense of adventure
Spirits unleashed,
Saying altogether, "We can!"
As tightly holding the guide
And pathway's light -
Their nation's proud "stars ans stripes."
Valiance flashed on their faces.
Higher and higher they went
Calmness danced with the rustling cool wind
Glaring were the ice flakes
Of noontime sun
The journey was near to its end.
Yet, a huge running bunch of snows met them.
Keen climbers bombarded
Explosive things.
Boom!
A hole was formed.
They went down
Into the hide site-like hole
Awaited the "limit" to pass by
then, it came.
The hole was filled
Shivering with cold
Heroes bombarded again...
Light rays entered as
Dazzling as their smiles.
Escapade continued.
'Till they stood and yelled
The voice of victory,
Overcoming the vertical's limit,
On their success,
On the most awe-inspiring place
of their dreams -
The earth's highest pinnacle!
Aug 10, 2012
Aug 10, 2012 at 2:56 AM UTC
Tis done—and shivering in the gale
The bark unfurls her snowy sail;
And whistling o’er the bending mast,
Loud sings on high the fresh’ning blast;
And I must from this land be gone,
Because I cannot love but one.
But could I be what I have been,
And could I see what I have seen—
Could I repose upon the breast
Which once my warmest wishes blest—
I should not seek another zone,
Because I cannot love but one.
’Tis long since I beheld that eye
Which gave me bliss or misery;
And I have striven, but in vain,
Never to think of it again:
For though I fly from Albion,
I still can only love but one.
As some lone bird, without a mate,
My weary heart is desolate;
I look around, and cannot trace
One friendly smile or welcome face,
And ev’n in crowds am still alone,
Because I cannot love but one.
And I will cross the whitening foam,
And I will seek a foreign home;
Till I forget a false fair face,
I ne’er shall find a resting-place;
My own dark thoughts I cannot shun,
But ever love, and love but one.
The poorest, veriest wretch on earth
Still finds some hospitable hearth,
Where Friendship’s or Love’s softer glow
May smile in joy or soothe in woe;
But friend or leman I have none,
Because I cannot love but one.
I go—but wheresoe’er I flee
There’s not an eye will weep for me;
There’s not a kind congenial heart,
Where I can claim the meanest part;
Nor thou, who hast my hopes undone,
Wilt sigh, although I love but one.
To think of every early scene,
Of what we are, and what we’ve been,
Would whelm some softer hearts with woe—
But mine, alas! has stood the blow;
Yet still beats on as it begun,
And never truly loves but one.
And who that dear lov’d one may be,
Is not for ****** eyes to see;
And why that early love was cross’d,
Thou know’st the best, I feel the most;
But few that dwell beneath the sun
Have loved so long, and loved but one.
I’ve tried another’s fetters too,
With charms perchance as fair to view;
And I would fain have loved as well,
But some unconquerable spell
Forbade my bleeding breast to own
A kindred care for aught but one.
’Twould soothe to take one lingering view,
And bless thee in my last adieu;
Yet wish I not those eyes to weep
For him that wanders o’er the deep;
His home, his hope, his youth are gone,
Yet still he loves, and loves but one.
1.6k
Woefully, Viola sings and beautiful are her cries
Calling lovers, come and gone, to flash before her eye
Shimmering upon the dust filled air, touching her gentle frame
Each a note of mournful bliss, each one known by name
Strong and clear does her sound ring in solitary company
Uncomparable and unconquerable, untamed in all heartstrings
Cascading in a sorrow that moves the soul to break
Viola bends and tells her story, what music it does make
Crimson is the sheen that covers every inch of her
Melody in tragedy deplicted in each word
Echoing through mind and body, Viola misses not a cue
Lovely, deeply, sensually, Viola calls to you
Feb 2, 2017
Feb 2, 2017 at 11:51 AM UTC
1. We never spoke in person after you asked me out. It lasted a week. You called me "it". You're going places now.
2. Sorry, I never really wanted you.
3. I thought I loved you. You were my first kiss in a movie theater arcade. You probably liked her all along. I was never the same after you.
4. I was your biggest mistake. You listened to music I pretended I had heard of and you played video games I pretended to be interested in. I have a soft spot for you.
5. You're my favorite almost. You're still nice to look at.
6. You fell in love with my best friend. You were my #9 to her. I hope you regret it.
7. You called me "baby" and said you loved me two days in. I don't think you know anything about me besides my name.
8. You let me sing you to sleep once. To everyone else, we were perfect. I didn't love you as much as I wanted to.
9. You're the nightmares. You are the broken pencil, the torn pages. You were my first everything. My first train wreck. You're a narcissist and I'm basically the anti-Christ to you. It's all been said before. I'm still not sorry.
10. You kissed me too soon. When you gave me your sweatshirt in the rain I saw how good you were. I hope you still have big dreams. I hope it didn't hurt when I never texted back.
11. I broke my phone and we didn't speak for a few days. By the time I was back on twitter you were already with someone else.
12. I was drunk. Delete my number.
13. You're unconquerable. I still question how badly I wanted you, maybe I just wanted to be the one that stayed. But I stayed. You're more than I can ever convey into words. I'm sorry we never really got to fall in love.
14. I don't remember half the night. I'm glad we had one day to forget.
15. You're a stranger. Maybe we've already met. Maybe I've known you my whole life. Maybe you live across the planet. Maybe you've always been close. Whoever you are, you're #15, and I hope I don't crush you. (Please don't crush me).
Jan 16, 2014
Jan 16, 2014 at 3:57 PM UTC