"unweary" poems
Yet, my pretty sportive friend,
Little is’t to such an end
That I praise thy rareness!
Other dogs may be thy peers
Haply in these drooping ears,
And this glossy fairness.
But of thee it shall be said,
This dog watched beside a bed
Day and night unweary—
Watched within a curtained room,
Where no sunbeam brake the gloom
Round the sick and dreary.
Roses, gathered for a vase,
In that chamber died apace,
Beam and breeze resigning.
This dog only, waited on,
Knowing that when light is gone
Love remains for shining.
Other dogs in thymy dew
Tracked the hares, and followed through
Sunny moor or meadow.
This dog only, crept and crept
Next a languid cheek that slept,
Sharing in the shadow.
Other dogs of loyal cheer
Bounded at the whistle clear,
Up the woodside hieing.
This dog only, watched in reach
Of a faintly uttered speech,
Or a louder sighing.
And if one or two quick tears
Dropped upon his glossy ears,
Or a sigh came double—
Up he sprang in eager haste,
Fawning, fondling, breathing fast,
In a tender trouble.
And this dog was satisfied
If a pale thin hand would glide
Down his dewlaps sloping—
Which he pushed his nose within,
After—platforming his chin
On the palm left open.
4.3k
In a perfect world, equal opportunity would be a facet of every society, not just a promise made and then recanted.
In a perfect world, fixed annuity would be given out with staunch sobriety, and the cries of poverty would cease being chanted.
In a perfect world, the disparity of race would be forgotten, replaced with celebratory practice of traditions, preserved.
In a perfect world, discrimination would no longer be begotten, and nothing but compassion and kindness would be reserved.
In the perfect world, medicine would work like magic, with disease being left as a thing of the past.
In the perfect world, a diagnosis of cancer would no longer be tragic, and our bodies would be engineered to last.
Yet, the future’s uncertain, and the past’s all but gone
So the present must be where our battles are won
If a perfect world is what we desire
It must be done now
Where our bones are unweary
And our minds shall not tire
May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 12:40 AM UTC
Fair Angels of Olympus, Muses Nine,
That on its snowy summit gay recline,
With other gods and haply the cynosure
Of poets whom inspires your sacred ewer,
O'erflowed with the ambrosial Hippocrene,
The haunt of daughters of Mnemosyne,
And Father Jove who loves these nymphets most,
And of that gelid crest th’ immortal host.
Apollo, son of Jove, gives company
To your glad song of heaven’s euphony;
There to his lyre flourish unfettered throats
That bear the truest art through truest notes.
When sing ye graceful goddesses amidst
The brood of Saturn’s mighty son in feasts,
May gladden the heart of children of the plain
As well who in summer nights hearken you fain.
I heard that music mild betwixt the glades,
‘Twixt valleys old till with the breeze it fades,
Amongst the rustling youthful Aspen leaves,
From bough to bough its tender beauty weaves.
On warbler’s throat ye happy strains do pour,
Above the groves as o’er the mountain soar
They with their pinions unweary and suave,
Dispenser of all art ye fain observe.
Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 3:13 AM UTC
Every saint has a past
Cherry peaked and snow white pure
Each cherubim face is but a mask
Hiding away the evil they endure
Inch by inch the porcelain pretense cracks deeper
Spilling out demons from which their souls were molded
Flying towards heaven, out of reach for hell's keeper
Beating their wings against all odds, remaining golden
So you see, these sinners distinguish the path ahead
Leaping with a newborn's spirit and
Changing for the better instead
No longer fearing where they stand
Though the wake is left murky and dreary
Hearts of a new soul spot the light and travel unweary
Jul 9, 2010
Jul 9, 2010 at 10:06 AM UTC
Where will thy spirit settle,
For it has known...
Beauty in the reeds,
Peace upon the shore,
Sanctity of an empty horizon.
Yet returns to the helm restless every time.
Unsatisfied yet unweary.
Unanchored yet still tied.
Riding whims waves,
At its own mercy.
Seeking a harbor to find one,
and yet another...
Only to turn its sail away,
And return to the helm once again.
Will the current ever breach the captain's will?
Jul 15, 2011
Jul 15, 2011 at 6:19 PM UTC
Gaze upon the moon.
Moonlight illuminates the room.
Stars glitter & glow.
An enchanting beauty it bestows.
The cold night sky.
Makes me feel alive.
Not wanting to die.
An immortal existence.
Humanity has no resistance.
Fireworks penetrate the fog.
Gathering around the campfire on a log.
Rainbow colors that dont blur, you can see clearly. An image that depression is a cure.
A strength unweary.
Roasting marshmellow smores,
while the others sleep & snore.
Collecting more fire wood.
Right before me is where the grizzly bear stood.
He wanted food that is what I understood.
If you run they will attack.
The woods I wont be going back.
To live you have to stand still or try to climb a tree.
Don't run to the hills.
Just stay & be.
Animals smell fear. That much is clear.
Food attracts them. Tranqualize could be wise.
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 12:18 AM UTC
God was breathing in his kisses making her infinitely inflamed giving him her body in unweary prayer of love.
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 7:53 PM UTC