"vesture" poems
Indelicate is he who loathes
The aspect of his fleshy clothes, --
The flying fabric stitched on bone,
The vesture of the skeleton,
The garment neither fur nor hair,
The cloak of evil and despair,
The veil long violated by
Caresses of the hand and eye.
Yet such is my unseemliness:
I hate my epidermal dress,
The savage blood's obscenity,
The rags of my anatomy,
And willingly would I dispense
With false accouterments of sense,
To sleep immodestly, a most
Incarnadine and carnal ghost.
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I climbed the dark heaven to meet myself alone..
To smell all the roses and espy the stone..
Nevertheless, the cloud was frozen and the breeze was calm..
I saw her descending and coinciding with my palm..
Her plain white vesture was contrasting my red..
She was diffusing the divinity that I could not even bled..
Our faces were same but our aces were inverse..
She owned one whole entity while I was a disperse..
The moment was priceless and so were my emotions..
It was indeed the most breathtaking phase to my notions..
My other twin was bounded with a definite time span..
She was entirely a woman with the heart of a man..
*"You don't live inside me, I have never sensed you inside,
Painted with shyness, you rather live like a bride*.."
I peeled up my heart and had the eagerness to know..
If the sun lives in me, then why do I fall like the snow..
She smiled and glared down on me with the rays of her starkness
and told me how sturdily I have been lidded under the darkness..
Holding the flowers, she stands in the island of my soul..
She ponders my echo and waits for the control..
She imparts her colors when my pallet runs out..
but puts on her cloak when my demon comes out..
Surprisingly, I asked "You are my part. Why don't you fight out..!?"
She had an answer. She works eternally from the hideout..
In the midst of the stirring stillness, she reminded that I had to leave..
Ironically, I could not crave for what I had been dying to receive..
The same ladder showed up and slanted me back to my nook..
and the wind narrating slowly what I had given while what I had took..
*I returned to my place which was as murkier as ever..
I sensed the time-It was cursive and clever..
Perhaps I will reap more strength to deflect the chirping into the roar...
to mend every single lapse and bring her back someday on my door*..
Mar 26, 2016
Mar 26, 2016 at 2:15 PM UTC
What dawn-pulse at the heart of heaven, or last
Incarnate flower of culminating day,—
What marshalled marvels on the skirts of May,
Or song full-quired, sweet June’s encomiast;
What glory of change by nature’s hand amass’d
Can vie with all those moods of varying grace
Which o’er one loveliest woman’s form and face
Within this hour, within this room, have pass’d?
Love’s very vesture and elect disguise
Was each fine movement,—wonder new-begot
Of lily or swan or swan-stemmed galiot;
Joy to his sight who now the sadlier sighs,
Parted again; and sorrow yet for eyes
Unborn that read these words and saw her not.
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His adorable curiosity
Heartfelt sincerity
Rare honesty
His heart's purity
Bring them back to me...
His comforting words
The kind I've never heard
Seductive and mellifluous voice
His contentment,with me as his choice
Bring them back to me...
His arousing fantasies
Romantic gestures
Perfect heartache remedies
Keeping me safe with a mysterious vesture
Bring them back to me...
The warmth of his skin
Soft whispers in my ears
Infectious wide grin
His undying trust, gathering my tears
Bring them back to me...
I'm not ready for another chapter
It's miserably unbearable
I know YOU are there, so please answer
My prayer for a miracle...
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 10:56 PM UTC
What is it we see and so often despise,
when we view ourselves using only the eyes,
that distorted image inside our head,
the old snakes skin that we’d like to shed,
dare we look from behind the frame,
beyond the self-loathing, repulsion and shame,
our vesture is woven from the beauty inside,
so take on its mantel and wear it with pride.
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 2:04 PM UTC
He seeks truth in places of no good.
He flies high in places where others stood
Still he cries tears of perpetual sense.
A chameleon
his outer vesture cloaks his identity.
Unyielding
He plants his foot in the dirt.
Tangled vines tie his toes
contrasting his poetic prose.
Left dangling in the temptress spider lily's web
the noose tightens
as the old boy sings.
A fist with two thumbs
he raises like a martian.
Strangers illegibly write him
off.
A Jekyllish laugh
empties the mucus from his lungs.
Eons of inhaling senseless knowledge
he finds a second breathe to speak.
Words slice the web of lies
spinning silk into impenetrable pride.
Raw and uncut
his diction polishes diamonds
before were only rust.
He wakens every morning
Anew defiant face.
Contradicting himself
a joke
he cackles everyday.
The children who say he's changed
are correct.
But the chameleon found his true colors
somewhere between the lines
of white and black.
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 11:43 AM UTC
Say, heav’nly muse, what king or mighty God,
That moves sublime from Idumea’s road?
In Bosrah’s dies, with martial glories join’d,
His purple vesture waves upon the wind.
Why thus enrob’d delights he to appear
In the dread image of the Pow’r of war?
Compres’d in wrath the swelling wine-press groan’d,
It bled, and pour’d the gushing purple round.
“Mine was the act,” th’ Almighty Saviour said,
And shook the dazzling glories of his head,
“When all forsook I trod the press alone,
“And conquer’d by omnipotence my own;
“For man’s release sustain’d the pond’rous load,
“For man the wrath of an immortal God:
“To execute th’ Eternal’s dread command
“My soul I sacrific’d with willing hand;
“Sinless I stood before the avenging frown,
“Atoning thus for vices not my own.”
His eye the ample field of battle round
Survey’d, but no created succours found;
His own omnipotence sustain’d the right,
His vengeance sunk the haughty foes in night;
Beneath his feet the prostrate troops were spread,
And round him lay the dying, and the dead.
Great God, what light’ning flashes from thine eyes?
What pow’r withstands if thou indignant rise?
Against thy Zion though her foes may rage,
And all their cunning, all their strength engage,
Yet she serenely on thy ***** lies,
Smiles at their arts, and all their force defies.
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An effusive elaborate scheme the colors advance to bright spellbinding allure then they achieve
Depth of quality by cutting back to softer hues and then the natural dark green is the bold
Touch that succeeds with total symmetry showcased in a view perfected by glass the prism
Most fitting not only to see but to be captivated by perfected expression it is a metaphor for life
The master designer chooses his subjects well one infuses another then by degree others
Foreshadow and glorify it blends tangible and intangible into intelligent coherent order tasteful
And sublime the hint and the elusive wonder all is needed is the wind to bow and ****** it into
A profusion a veritable concert that stirs with appeal life is in motion the players advance and
Retreat each speaking lines unique to themselves what sensations speak tendrils on a garden
Trellis held and fixed a gesture that plays and portrays intricate details the mystery that plays so
Well the stealing of morning frost then the blaze and then restful dying rays that spell comfort
The field rolls and contorts this brandishes excitement exuberance veers and plunders life
Become exploration trails hidden thickets hide and hold expression that is pent up ready to
Explode what vesture we wear it grips our friend’s astonishment is read on their faces but it is
Like a house of many mirrors because their lives are having the same effect on you some days
Are uneventful others are storm tossed with grandness the riches of an all contained realm
Spasms convulse like waves of the sea we stand forth to puzzle and dream what does it all
Mean the sanctity reveals plumes that are invisible that are far reaching and they have given us
This course of endurance that belies longing we grow soft and an inner glowing surpasses the
Stringent the misfit that moans against conforming we are treasure that exceeds all expectation
Life is rich we are its brightest colors and light night is for brooding the day is for shinning and
Divulging the secrets found in the brooding time we accost others we signify to them not only
Our own worth but there’s also fetching is the spray that magnifies the sky we are the bursting
We are the aliveness that is found each day in our lives that is the dooryard of discovery
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Feb 1, 2013
Feb 1, 2013 at 1:28 AM UTC
Churning
Boisterous to me life a high powerful stormy sea will I ever see land again those peaceful
Dales the trees so deeply rooted in there canopy the swaying seems as undersea waves so softly they
Stir as at play deep valleys and hills below above aluminous sun light makes a rich glow in its tow I go
Ever so slow the sea grass moves in a musical undulating fashion the same as the grass on the plains
Colors diverse with coral markers at depths that unrest at the surface doesn’t reach the frothing foam
As it were a great goblet filled for god to drink a offering of thanks for such wonder that can be a
Complexity at once filling heights of emotional strands then instantly terrifying foreboding illustrious
Without equal so vast stretching all the bounds you have ever known by the sea blown tales that are
As voluminous as the sea itself adventure in the raw highlighted with charm by the cawing of the seagull
With the same speed they dive and climb on the surface races the dolphin the embodiment of joy and
Laughter the sea rescuers has been some of their duties to the blessing of many lost mariners in cold
Chilly waters these bubbly ones was the difference between life and death the sea does spray as with
Glory unbound in this all concluding vesture that is seamless all consuming tiring but invigorating once
The sea salt has entered your blood there is no escape its lore hypnotic unbreakable break waters will
Carry you inland by that she granted your greatest desire after she has reared her head and gave you
The Undeniable look at deaths watery jaws but when on her mercy you survive or in some fashion are
Flung on the shore you lose your emotional tiller and blubber like a baby then the manly part curses all
She Put you through you know one thing for certain never will she catch you a float but little do you
Know her winsome call withers all about so you hungrily crave the sea tossed tempest its excitement is a
Drug that a ****** has no cure for it puts robust living in your path all of your days while the timid land
Dwellers only look on in awe and admiration
Jan 9, 2012
Jan 9, 2012 at 6:54 PM UTC
Deafening Roar
When you find your life surrounded by sheer Granite walls in front a waterfall crashes the cool mist
Affords a delightful respite on the brilliant pool seven feet above this table of water a rainbow of vivid
Colors forms arched particles of water premiered by over powering dazzled Sun rays the mind bows
Before uncommon glory experience what birds in flight feel but they can’t express it either then wonder
Triggers the other side of brooding the highest delights pass as soldiers in their finest attire they move in
A cloud covering of glory it is admixture of wisdom mysticism with a great weight of courage their faces
Imply the hard lives they live faith and trust refined in the caldron of sacrifice they have brushed granite
And it entered their psyche forever more tested and true their vesture dipped in blood never to break
Ranks with the fallen warrior brotherhood it is worldwide its rainbow is derived from nationality the
Nobility of a people is safe guarded daily by their knowledge of duty peace must be mined in far flung
Regions that are fraught with peril love of country drives them on tranquil shores first gleaming is
Derived from those that unflinching bare danger in the raw where evil does not show any pretense
Its plan is destroy then put in place near insanity then pronounce it good as the innocent are daily
Consumed but truth will not submit or die there is a strong hold that is made from pure granite justice
Cascades continuously from this pool freedom forms we drink deeply then with colors unknown to the
Dark evil we go forth and cure the land that has been made despicable by greed and cruel men that
Seek only good for themselves their bones are scattered around the globe as freedom marches on.
Jan 10, 2012
Jan 10, 2012 at 2:09 AM UTC
Emerald’s Trance
Oh Irish eyes you follow me all through the emerald isle you stop time it runs backward and
Forwards the rush heady the roots of Irish lore entangle me fully I see the loving vesture worn in pride its
Charm is magnified there is much of the Leprechaun and blarney stone just the correct amount to
Solidify a national identity and then to complete everything in magic top it all off with a red headed lass
With the greenest eyes the heart skips and dances all about when you are as full as you think you can
Take then she speaks does not the mystical burst forth openly ancient days flood the valleys sweeping
You into the power that alone is Ireland come with me suspend reality search for the *** of gold you will
Find riches that even surpass gold a place a people where the well springs of charm and laughter echo
Down roads and streets in every village and city every once and a while you need a place you can empty
Your heart and ready your being for thrills without fear I know it has been a land of conflict but in spite
Of it justice takes it all in stride makes it as a whole a tribute to diversity that is tinged with divinity a coloring
That prescribes a peace that finds loyalist pockets but leads on to the far borders where understanding
Shakes itself and gives way to reason as the bowman takes all factors into consideration distance
Wind age bows power weight of arrow and most important experience in hitting the bull’s eye seldom
Is victory and success derived in any other way than by turmoil and hard fighting who can lose when
Your held in the gaze of the greenest green dreams are hard to be defeated she gives nobility to the
cause the fight has purity at the head all will easily fall romantic treasure will fill your lives with greater riches
Than many pots of gold
Nov 17, 2011
Nov 17, 2011 at 6:05 AM UTC
You tread so, unfondly and almost—
too carefully after the echoes
of wintry whisperings, yet swerve—
and twirl in a grand vesture
of fireflies, of distant worries;
dream like a glowing summer
amongst dwindling youths
and enraptured stardust:
solemnly, and dearly too.
"I will be happy, if you were..."
insistent, you professed; yet deny me—
your caged heart.
Your silhouette casts over
the fiery meadow, over—
the vibrant ruins; finds harbour
only, in the eyes of the serpent
and prance wreathed in light.
Caress your clipped wings; embrace—
yourself and bear in mind, always:
I will sit with you in the dark.
Jan 7, 2023
Jan 7, 2023 at 9:52 AM UTC
Haydon! forgive me that I cannot speak
Definitively of these mighty things;
Forgive me, that I have not eagle's wings,
That what I want I know not where to seek,
And think that I would not be over-meek,
In rolling out upfollowed thunderings,
Even to the steep of Heliconian springs,
Were I of ample strength for such a freak.
Think, too, that all these numbers should be thine;
Whose else? In this who touch thy vesture's hem?
For, when men stared at what was most divine
With brainless idiotism and o'erwise phlegm,
Thou hadst beheld the full Hesperian shine
Of their star in the east, and gone to worship them!
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I was suprised to see Robin
appear at the onset of dawn.
Looked on at my withdrawn self,
tucked on my shelf,
whereupon I return his look.
With his wings, he made a gesture
pointing out, out and beyond to
fields in a vesture of green.
Never I had I seen such pastal pastures,
nor known them to be so near.
Robin started to sing
of spontaneous adventure,
away from my miscellaneous thoughts.
Extraneous in nature for they did discouraged
this possible venture.
In an act of defiance,
I went to move, and felt a strain
tightening around my brain.
Denying the laws of science,
the frightening shackels restraining me
and my plumed heart from taking flight.
I struggled against the chain, I wiggled until bruised
and blood and sweat covered my skin.
The sticky heat of desperation consumes me,
wishing someone smuggled the key in
and remove these chaotic chains.
"I can't move," I cried to Robin,
expecting him to disapprove.
"I'm not like you. I can't just go and do what I want,
it doesn't work like that."
Even though I wanted to go.
My soul longs for it, to be like the Robin
where its only goal is to go
faraway like a bird of prey, flying high
complying to no one, just like Maslow wanted.
The reclamation of self-realization.
Robin did not reply.
Robin did not leave.
Nor did he grieve for me.
He simply waited.
This wasn't a rue.
He was glued to me and thus
Proving the legends true; of how
he got the mark of Christ's blood upon himself.
For he waited in hope
'til the day when I can cleave the chains
and he'll supply the rope
and reeve the opening of my escape.
But that day is not today.
Today's untimely end neared
with the threat of an upset sunset,
warning Robin that he must retreat
to avoid being a prisioner of the dark.
Yet, before he left, he nodded,
as if tell me not to fret.
For he will be back at sunrise
His wise eyes conformed
him to be sans falseness.
And I prayed to empty skies that I was right.
From my spot, I watch Robin's flight,
as night fell with gravity, pushing the sun down
and for a split second it turned to a green jewel.
I smiled like fool at Joule's "last glimpse"
feeling the chains, ever so slightly, loosen.
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 6:05 PM UTC
Dreamer
Honolulu the magic of you can it be true?
To each visitor you adorn with vesture of joy.
Pulsating ebbing and flowing the place of peaceful knowing.
The trade wind gently tugs loosing the tangled spirit.
The honored dead of punch bowl and Pearl whisper softly.
Life contrasts with death but gives birth to harmony.
The dead guide the living into a higher arena.
We are called and pressed by the common that are now lofty.
The palms are swaying distant isles they bespeak.
Romance they softly announce lovers come to life.
The magic of a thousand moon lighted nights the heart ignites.
Love’s fire burns away all the cold the night is for lovers bold.
This land of the dream walk emotions rise and fall like the surf.
Vision of white sails a schooner racing upon turquoise waters.
Just follow the far horizon the spirit unbound freedoms turf.
Know all the ports with exotic names but claim none as home.
Never forget the Islands of Hawaii they are a font of love.
Today cement and steel take the place of the grass huts.
Still there is a spirit that pervades as gentle as the mourning dove.
The cliffs are kissed with a garland of mist the mark of riches.
So if your soul is low come the heights you will know.
Nov 17, 2011
Nov 17, 2011 at 4:14 AM UTC
The caller
The one I speak of stands within castle walls dark and brooding from these walls unfurled banners hang a night’s honor it proclaims
From this far distant land your words of honor and tender love have reached many were the miles and time was breached
The tree tops sway down the valley across the glen on the wind his spirit does descend up to your amber lighted window framed
Opened heart this threshold he does cross into quiet deep shadows the mixture floral dreams pervade to you his honor laid
Whatever his vesture before now a kingly crown your words bestow an ethereal garland placed with tender fingers it does announce
Go forth to the garden it holds wonder and beauty far short of loves glory but the best place for a back drop set within this gazebo
Gaze into the fondest softest light among the great cherished gifts of this life and know that you are its crown all else you renounce
A great king of kings made it so relish your position your words are excepted they create favor and honor in the highest realm
A man is short and lost until the woman he finds that will be his bride his very power to reach and fulfill his potential glory
You walk and at times forget your place you forget you are the very embrace of the long sought out and needed grace
Soft as distant thunder you hair truly your glory splendor falls as tender as joy felt tears the ripest repine this scene’s unfolded story
Walk hand in hand under white cloudy skies as beautiful as your white flowing wedding gown on that memorable day relive it
Days press on they hold you together trees of honey suckle jasmine sweetest magnolia jump to mind just beyond the terrace
The grounds pass to the pond of rich waters where you reflection in the glinting sunlight finally shows more than a picture
Rarest climes you pass into engulfed you float in bliss first brought about from a kiss remember this treasured caress
These are the thoughts of your beloved I just put into words for him and you the words of a husband’s thankfulness live it
Jan 1, 2012
Jan 1, 2012 at 5:06 PM UTC
Roses are red, violets are blue,
love left unsaid, is much more true,
than lies lips lay, on yearning ears,
for words delay, love's yonder years,
from taking place, upon our plates,
in feast of grace, and Tantric traits.
The center piece, of table tall,
a red rose wreath, that blooms in fall,
for in summer, amidst sun's tryst,
vintage vesture, would be amiss.
Amongst fed flames, and wilting wax,
its beauty tames, the burned boar's racks,
from stretching thin, the table's cloth,
placating then, what wrath has wrought.
Round the setting, span bands of birch,
guitars fretting, torn tunes in search,
of feathered feet, to wield their quills,
unite the beat, weld weary wills.
So listen wide, ***** up your eyes,
and take my pride, my petty sighs,
into your prance; I'll be in tow,
and we shall dance, 'til candles blow.
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 8:12 PM UTC
i.
Reyna, we art, and thus alway's wilt be, king and queen wreathed by unrevealed novel thing's; A reality, no fantasy nor dream, as ourn amour' steam's and ring's like bell's in chapel holiness.
ii.
Ourn d.n.a is a map of all creational construction, showing God's hand's whom hast created ourn function's; We yearneth for another from afar, mine Jane, mine pet, we shalt soon together maketh ourn children on star's.
iii.
O' from the empyrean, O' from the empyrean we shalt glanceth Mars. Ourn heart's large, as ourn eye's pierce through another; wayfarer's we shalt be in the angelic city. With golden street's below ourn feet, none demonic fearing's nor pity, vesture of the trace of ourn creator's trinity. Viol and harp symphonies, high class and richy shalt we dance, None currency needed. The poor here shalt be standing first, as the greed-seeker's last, no tear drained pain's nor stab's, no mishap's. Just rainbow's that reflecteth garment's and robe's from the heavenly host's that carry sword's to keepeth the fallen fiend's out.
iv.
The entryway covered by rock's that sparkled back on earth in the opulent man's view, though here this scene is for me and thou; for the homeless to, as tis we shalt be renewed in ourn kiss of eternal life, all day here, no night. For God here is the light that the earthling's hath forgotten.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl jane Nagley dedication-Filipino rose
Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 10:05 PM UTC
Honolulu the magic of you can it be true?
To each visitor you adorn with vesture of joy.
Pulsating ebbing and flowing the place of peaceful knowing.
The trade wind gently tugs loosing the tangled spirit.
The honored dead of punch bowl and Pearl whisper softly.
Life contrasts with death but gives birth to harmony.
The dead guide the living into a higher arena.
We are called and pressed by the common that are now lofty.
The palms are swaying distant isles they bespeak.
Romance they softly announce lovers come to life.
The magic of a thousand moon lighted nights the heart ignites.
Love’s fire burns away all the cold the night is for lovers bold.
This land of the dream walk emotions rise and fall like the surf.
Vision of white sails a schooner racing upon turquoise waters.
Just follow the far horizon the spirit unbound freedoms turf.
Know all the ports with exotic names but claim none as home.
Never forget the Islands of Hawaii they are a font of love.
Today cement and steel take the place of the grass huts.
Still there is a spirit that pervades as gentle as the mourning dove.
The cliffs are kissed with a garland of mist the mark of riches.
So if your soul is low come the heights you will know.
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 6:20 PM UTC
And after these things I heard a great voice of much people in heaven, saying, Alleluia; Salvation, and glory, and honour, and power, unto the Lord our God:
2 For true and righteous are his judgments: for he hath judged the great ***** which did corrupt the earth with her fornication, and hath avenged the blood of his servants at her hand.
3 And again they said, Alleluia And her smoke rose up for ever and ever.
4 And the four and twenty elders and the four beasts fell down and worshipped God that sat on the throne, saying, Amen; Alleluia.
5 And a voice came out of the throne, saying, Praise our God, all ye his servants, and ye that fear him, both small and great.
6 And I heard as it were the voice of a great multitude, and as the voice of many waters, and as the voice of mighty thunderings, saying, Alleluia: for the Lord God omnipotent reigneth.
7 Let us be glad and rejoice, and give honour to him: for the marriage of the Lamb is come, and his wife hath made herself ready.
8 And to her was granted that she should be arrayed in fine linen, clean and white: for the fine linen is the righteousness of saints.
9 And he saith unto me, Write, Blessed are they which are called unto the marriage supper of the Lamb. And he saith unto me, These are the true sayings of God.
10 And I fell at his feet to worship him. And he said unto me, See thou do it not: I am thy fellowservant, and of thy brethren that have the testimony of Jesus: worship God: for the testimony of Jesus is the spirit of prophecy.
11 And I saw heaven opened, and behold a white horse; and he that sat upon him was called Faithful and True, and in righteousness he doth judge and make war.
12 His eyes were as a flame of fire, and on his head were many crowns; and he had a name written, that no man knew, but he himself.
13 And he was clothed with a vesture dipped in blood: and his name is called The Word of God.
14 And the armies which were in heaven followed him upon white horses, clothed in fine linen, white and clean.
15 And out of his mouth goeth a sharp sword, that with it he should smite the nations: and he shall rule them with a rod of iron: and he treadeth the winepress of the fierceness and wrath of Almighty God.
16 And he hath on his vesture and on his thigh a name written, King Of Kings, And Lord Of Lords.
17 And I saw an angel standing in the sun; and he cried with a loud voice, saying to all the fowls that fly in the midst of heaven, Come and gather yourselves together unto the supper of the great God;
18 That ye may eat the flesh of kings, and the flesh of captains, and the flesh of mighty men, and the flesh of horses, and of them that sit on them, and the flesh of all men, both free and bond, both small and great.
19 And I saw the beast, and the kings of the earth, and their armies, gathered together to make war against him that sat on the horse, and against his army.
20 And the beast was taken, and with him the false prophet that wrought miracles before him, with which he deceived them that had received the mark of the beast, and them that worshipped his image. These both were cast alive into a lake of fire burning with brimstone.
21 And the remnant were slain with the sword of him that sat upon the horse, which sword proceeded out of his mouth: and all the fowls were filled with their flesh.
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 6:23 AM UTC
I found a treasure box that filled with dusks
that doesn't have a golds or diamonds on it,
but got a simple antiquated photographs
that displayed what occurred on my past life.
The rainbow by refraction of the sun's rays
the times that there's no great challenges
positivity is just living at heart of my personify—
illusory of hope's beauty can make me satisfy.
The star that origin from the southeastern part
the vis-à-vis of waking up and talk to my friends,
counting one to ten while my eyes are closed
seeking their wonderful visages with a curve.
Those flowers in the yard that starts to bloom,
taking it and say he loves me or he loves me not
while eating some soil and collecting the petals,
marked a colourful stains on my vesture.
The moon's gloom that guide me to my home
after a almost a day of playing out-of-door,
and everything will start again tomorrow
but all of what happened is now a part of yore.
Oct 7, 2017
Oct 7, 2017 at 11:14 PM UTC
God, who at sundry times and in divers manners spake in time past unto the fathers by the prophets,
2 Hath in these last days spoken unto us by his Son, whom he hath appointed heir of all things, by whom also he made the worlds;
3 Who being the brightness of his glory, and the express image of his person, and upholding all things by the word of his power, when he had by himself purged our sins, sat down on the right hand of the Majesty on high:
4 Being made so much better than the angels, as he hath by inheritance obtained a more excellent name than they.
5 For unto which of the angels said he at any time, Thou art my Son, this day have I begotten thee? And again, I will be to him a Father, and he shall be to me a Son?
6 And again, when he bringeth in the firstbegotten into the world, he saith, And let all the angels of God worship him.
7 And of the angels he saith, Who maketh his angels spirits, and his ministers a flame of fire.
8 But unto the Son he saith, Thy throne, O God, is for ever and ever: a sceptre of righteousness is the sceptre of thy kingdom.
9 Thou hast loved righteousness, and hated iniquity; therefore God, even thy God, hath anointed thee with the oil of gladness above thy fellows.
10 And, Thou, Lord, in the beginning hast laid the foundation of the earth; and the heavens are the works of thine hands:
11 They shall perish; but thou remainest; and they all shall wax old as doth a garment;
12 And as a vesture shalt thou fold them up, and they shall be changed: but thou art the same, and thy years shall not fail.
13 But to which of the angels said he at any time, Sit on my right hand, until I make thine enemies thy footstool?
14 Are they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation?
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 6:03 AM UTC
Meadows, valleys,
Fields of wide pasture,
That’s the thought of today as we come together,
Us in our wedding vesture.
Whatever the day brings,
The sun still shines;
And we are together,
Like branches along vines.
Thankful for this time,
We share with close community
Our joy and happiness
While we have the opportunity.
Two hearts sync
As one beat in time;
The feeling is as whimsical
As the voice of a wind chime.
We profess our vows
Aloud to each other;
Endowed we are
With the love of a mother:
Caring, understanding,
Hopeful in all;
May our time beyond our reception
Be as nourishing as a banquet hall!
May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018 at 3:42 PM UTC
If we dream of creating,
objects tesselating,
shapes showing cracks,
through which we see
what reality
lacks,
we grow
a desire,
to recognize what we do admire,
to throw
our lives around
start a new, build up from
the ground,
but then we come
to sense, agree to make amends,
we jot down with a painful gesture
we can only fail to lift the vesture
of our one true love.
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 6:06 PM UTC