"vowing" poems
Her head silently dwindles on a cold plush pillow,
looking into the eyes of her perfect bliss.
An afternoon made from happiness,
a simple Sunday and a drop of Heaven.
Lying down, the August serenity making her blush,
The echo of the pleasing bashful breeze,
A slow pluck of eternity on the strings of love.
Grasping one another's hand,
Vowing to never let go.
Her beautiful eyes glossed in his desire,
A last warm and subtle kiss,
the final memory and the first chapter,
of love vanishing into the abyss.
What will you remember?
When the oceans are still.
When there are no wars.
When the sun stops shining.
When its all over. I'll still hear her voice.
Forever is a scary place,
but I wouldn't want to go there with anyone else,
but you.
When life takes a halt,
that is just the beginning.
My Heaven is simple,
I call it Sunday with you.
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 11:29 PM UTC
V-is for vowing to never drink *****
While on our voluntary vacation.
We have voiced our verification
In a high voltage volcano
While playing volleyball
And checking our voicemail.
While in this void,
A terrifyingly vivid *****
Who was a model for vogue
In which she wore a V-neck dress,
And ate all her vitamins
Vocabulized with much volume,
Her vow
To always,
Drink *****
May 11, 2010
May 11, 2010 at 10:16 AM UTC
Where you go I go
But still I will never see
What keeps you up at night
As you softly scream hauntedly
For you I will always care
Even if the sky shattered and fell
I would be there not letting a shard touch your hair
And vowing to make the heavens wish for hell
Where you go I go
But sill you forbid me to ask
From knowing what you know
What happened in your past
For you I am devastatingly aware
Of your sanity and your pain
Life is so cruel and unfair
I wish I could end your suffering alone in your brain
Where you go I go
Where ever it may be
If any one is going to hurt you
I would do it the most softly
We can finally take comfort in the end
And that I am no longer prolonging your pain
To the heavens I pray our souls will send
And that we will be blessed with the chance to start again
Dec 21, 2016
Dec 21, 2016 at 2:31 PM UTC
If you're gonna be lonely,
maybe learn how to cook.
Parade the smoke to the rafters
after doubting the book.
Alert the parents in vowing the earnest
salt in the brook.
A fervent effort relays to bacon kisses you took.
Brine is cheap,
and on days like this
find a Mrs. or friend,
apply the bread crumb crisp.
Buy the egg to allure.
confide that "this might miss."
If not to them to yourself.
Try the odd light whip.
Find a guide or a dozen.
Fire doesn't necessarily deny the pleasant after math.
Passable dishes levy comfort on cold nights,
dying for treasure dancing in the lights,
and forming function digging diamond from plastic wrap.
"I could serve a candied berry
pair it fairly cold below a lighter cream."
See the finer things elaborate below the theme.
Mise en place allowing,
yolk to heat,
folk wreaths are crowning.
Found a leek to brown,
found out what friends to feed can mean
Be the barer
taste your food
silk confections
social fruit
Buck the system
Find connection
tuck the mood in
ginger root
get your list out
pay it forward
take the order
grab a whisk
make an impact
Pleat the border
break the silence
wrap a gift
Oct 23, 2019
Oct 23, 2019 at 6:56 PM UTC
well i'm glad you didn't promise,
and i know now why you said
that you hated vowing to keep your word
and could we just instead-
know about this quiet agreement
in the shadows of our mind
because then, you never broke a vow-
least, not the spoken kind.
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 6:58 PM UTC
A grimoire of nuptials apporting
The implored cadaverous knight
Securing obsequious omens
Stirring the sleeping metals of
Chaste belladonna, glistening
Elf-locks entangled with Hellweed
Vowing until the golden bowl is broken
Clasping the devils paintbrush promising
Before the garrulous black mass
Leering upon Vulcans mirror
Cursing the covenant of faithfulness
With a moonstone band
Evoking a vixens wedding
Sealing with Adams holy ale
Their oath as the belfry rings
Resounding admist white sepulchre.
ELEETE J MUIR.
Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 9:00 AM UTC
Out on the marsh on a lonely night
The wind soughs through his rags,
The hat that’s pinned to his painted face,
Flutters and soars, then sags,
His eyes are wide and his mouth is grim
As an owl is put to flight,
And nothing but shadows will venture there
For the Scarecrow rules the night.
And back in the manse in a window seat
The Parson’s daughter sits,
She stares at the fluttering coat-tails, but
In truth, is scared to bits,
She watches the sails of the windmill turn
And creak and groan in the gloom,
As clouds come stuttering over the marsh
In the rays of a Harvest Moon.
The father is out in the donkey cart
To tend to his aging flock,
He’s left Elizabeth waiting there
By the tick of the hallway clock,
But out on the moors and beyond the marsh
There rides one Highway Jack,
A frock coat topped with a bunch of lace
And a gold trimmed tricorne hat.
He’s whipped the horse to a lather
In a retreat from a new affray,
For the magistrates have gathered
Vowing to ride him down that day,
The redcoats wait in the village Inn
For the sound that they know too well,
When the curate sees the approaching horse
He’s to toll the old church bell.
But the curate lies in a drunken fit
On the floor of the old church nave,
And soon, by matins his soul will flit
From life to an early grave,
Elizabeth sits in the window seat
And thinks of the coin and plate,
As the highwayman dismounts, and ties
His horse to the manse’s gate.
He beats on the door, ‘Please let me in,
I’m weary and faint, that’s all.
I wouldn’t abuse your person, but
I fear my back’s to the wall.’
She leaves the seat and she slides the bar
For bracing the oaken door,
‘I dare not, sir, I fear for my life,
You’re safer out on the moor!’
Their voices echo across the marsh
Like fear, distilled in the night,
And something shudders out in the gloom
And lurches to left and right,
It seems forever, but now a sound
Tolls out, like a final knell,
For something, out in the church tonight,
Is tolling the steeple bell.
He barely makes it back to his horse
When the redcoats stand in line,
Their muskets fire a volley of shot
And his coat turns red, like wine.
They go to the church when the deed is done
To say, ‘You have done well!’
But the curate lies on the cold stone floor,
The Scarecrow tolled the bell!
David Lewis Paget
Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 10:30 PM UTC
Wildly the time flies
Moments passing in a flash
People and places never staying
Even when you wish they would.
Quickly hope ensues
That maybe they can stay
Stay near, young, and innocent
Never changing from who they were
Then despair crashes
And releases that hope
Because people change and grow
And maybe leave you behind to move
Softly longing creeps
Into your heart
Grips your mind and stays
Vowing never to let you forget
The past and how things were then
When all was perfect and true
Two hearts combined to one
Shattering the peace
Daringly you wait
For a moment to return
And bring you back to a time
A time without the pain of knowing
Slowly wanting builds
Anticipation grows cautiously
Know the pain, and the excitement at
Knowing the people you once knew again
Gracefully, curiosity sits
Patiently waiting for a moment
To spring forth and explore the world
That was left behind, gone, but not missing
Boldly excitement wanders
And reaches out to those ones
That left you behind to be alone
While still remembering who you were
Only to be reminded of pain once again
Reminded that time isn’t the healer
That mends everything broken
Only knowing hope does.
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 12:21 PM UTC
An online Poetry Site is like taking a Lover.
At first everything is new and exciting,
Our juices are flowing.
Our heart beats a little faster,
Endorphins abounding.
We romance and court her,
Our best foot forward,
Play to our strengths,
Beat on our chests,
Try to avoid foolish mistakes.
We get drawn in,
Dazzled by the allure of her attention.
We become intimate,
Embrace her charms,
Confide our inner most Secrets,
Whisper unashamedly our Fears.
But she can be fickle, change her mind,
Love us one minute, ignore us the next.
We invite her to judge us,
Then we resent the results.
We fight and withdraw, vowing to quite,
Then find that we are caught in the web,
And can’t follow through.
She commands far too much of our time,
We can even become obsessed, knowing
That we should back off, if only we could.
We begin to resent the time we spend with her,
And yet cannot get through a day without checking in.
In spite of our protests, when gone, we miss her.
So we nearly abandon old friends and family,
Preferring her company instead.
Lose needed sleep to stay up past three,
Just to hold her hand.
Hanging as we do,
On her every word.
Forget to mow the lawn,
Or wash the dishes.
Enthralled and distracted.
Neglect to shower,
Remain all day in Pajamas.
It’s a romance of words on a screen,
Not a living, breathing thing,
But even with this knowledge,
We can’t let her go.
Can’t leave it alone.
I know, because I have tried and failed.
And here I still remain,
Caught like an animal in a trap.
Or is it, a fat happy bird in a gilded cage?
Who would not know where else to go,
Even if the door were left open.
I am conflicted to say the least.
No doubt my need for self-expression,
Is stronger than my need for cessation.
We love what we do,
And do what we love
And **** the consequences.
The good part is, as far as I know,
No one ever got a social disease,
From Words on a computer screen.
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 3:03 PM UTC
The Straw Furniture (Summertime and the Living is Easy)
The ancient straw furniture, yellow-white, cracked,
My boon companions from the Sun Room where I write,
Give me a welcome back embrace and purposely snag my sweater,
Crackling a laugh and tween boisterous gasps, all wish me a hearty
Welcome back ancient mariner, to your cottage
On the bluff overlooking Peconic Bay.
The deck furniture exhumed from the garage,
Accompanied by a parade, nay a slew,
Of spiders and insects waving Adieu to their winter palace
Climb aboard to get a better view of their new deck digs,
And of me, the anti-hero of their grandparent's tales.
I go down to the basement.
Chagrined,
I come back up the twisty stairs
which designed, aimed to maim,
vowing never to return.
The refrigerator says do you like modern art?
Mold of multifarious colors, heavenly hues worthy of the
Museum of Modern Art,
I bequeath to you freely, no charge!
The clean laundry left out from last summer,
Looks so forlorn, asks politely,
Make me gone, wash away the winter's dusty grime,
Besides, traces of aged balsamic suntan lotion, still inhabit.
The golf clubs say nice meeting you,
Tho we think we met you once before,
Five or eight years or even never-years ago, was it not?
My obedient servants?
No, my friends, my helpers, my guides,
For in their sheltering embrace, in this holy place,
Inspiration floods, overcomes me and I am compelled alive,
Poet renewed, ****** why am I crying...
May 26th
10:15 AM
Shelter Island
In the Sun Room, weeping.
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 10:22 AM UTC
i lay out under the shade of the trees
embracing the cool breeze
it is comforting
like a caress between lovers
i watch the leaves blowing in the wind
never in unison but always in synch
the trees sway back and forth
back and forth
as if rocking to some invisible rhythm
i don't need to hear it to know its message
i can feel it in every cell of my being
awakening
rejuvenating
connecting me with the sounds of nature
my spirit is affirmed once more by the soft rustle of leaves
vowing that here in life's purest form
everything is okay
calm, not calamity
the sky, a blank canvas of open invitation
release yourself
let the soothing brush of fresh air intoxicate your senses
revive you
i sense autumn drawing near
closer every day
the leaves are bright with life
just starting to flash a glimpse of vibrancy that awaits
although there is not a cloud in the sky i sense my head resting there my feet planted firmly on the ground
my soul, lost somewhere in between
floating
waiting to be found
Jul 6, 2012
Jul 6, 2012 at 12:50 AM UTC
In loving thee thou know’st I am forsworn,
But thou art twice forsworn to me love swearing:
In act thy bed-vow broke and new faith torn
In vowing new hate after new love bearing.
But why of two oaths’ breach do I accuse thee,
When I break twenty? I am perjured most,
For all my vows are oaths but to misuse thee,
And all my honest faith in thee is lost.
For I have sworn deep oaths of thy deep kindness,
Oaths of thy love, thy truth, thy constancy,
And to enlighten thee gave eyes to blindness,
Or made them swear against the thing they see.
For I have sworn thee fair. More perjured eye,
To swear against the truth so foul a lie!
2k
I hope someday
When you've grown up
Figured it out
Moved on
I hope you remember
The girl you met
At freshman homecoming
How you swore it was
Love at first sight
I hope you remember chasing her
For a whole year
Vowing to never
Let her get away
I hope you remember loving her
And her loving you
Under the stars
On the dance floor
In her car
Secret nights spent
Driving aimlessly until
Silence fell easy
I hope you remember losing her
Giving up on her
Watching your love fade
Realizing only after she left
Exactly what you had
I hope you remember her
Your high school sweetheart
Your first true love
Your best friend
She won't forget you
Jun 14, 2013
Jun 14, 2013 at 3:42 PM UTC
*Let me court you and bend my pride,
Venting foolish passions,
Vowing with my heart,
Volleying pebbles to your window.
Do not forsake for my sake,
Say, you are the fickle Moon
And I'm a grumpy Narra tree,
That I'm the dizzied Sun and you—
A pirouetting world, that we are
Two islands of the Archipelago.
But never say, impulsively say,
That you are the shooting star,
The Perseids, a meteor shower,
For it is then, love,
That I would have become
The melancholy,
The Universe.*
© 2015 J.S.P.
Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 7:14 PM UTC
Long ago she lost the ability to cry.
He thought her so hard
She turned her face and walked away
As though she did not hear.
His eyes gestured, "I am drawn to you."
Wondering, "Is something here to explore?"
She walked away without looking back.
Stopped.
Staring straight ahead.
He thought of himself, as a man of power.
So, he followed her
Lured with the intrigue of conquering.
Yet, she did not desire to be conquered!
She was only uncertain
How do I express, "I only want to be truly loved?"
He came to her. She resisted. He conquered.
She sank in despair
Becoming once more withdrawn.
The uncertainty of life loomed
As the shadow of doubt.
Does love even exist?
Or is it only an illusionary butterfly?
Determined to find love
She walked away.
Vowing, "Never will I be conquered again!"
She licked her wounds.
She grew.
She learned to cry again.
She healed.
Mending her once festered soul.
No longer did she draw nor desire conquers.
A bright sun, anew
She roamed the universe.
Within the Light of Wisdom.
At Dawn's New Day
Emerging with a lotus flower
Crested in her hair.
Dancing among the green meadows
A gentle man watched
wondering
"I'm drawn to you. Is there something here to explore?"
In Spirit
She replied, "Perchance."
It was then
They began to dance among the stars.
In graceful movement
Timing their waltz
Assessing capacity for esteem
Open to honor freedom.
They danced within agency
They danced within
the integrity of their movement.
She sighed relief.
Evidenced by a gentle tear
cascading along the arcing curve of her cheek.
In heart felt love
He gazed into her eyes
Receiving her golden tear.
With an anchored
To continue the dance
In Vita Grande.
Today, Tomorrow & Forever!
Dec 29, 2021
Dec 29, 2021 at 5:41 PM UTC
*You're like a necessary drug
Repeatedly pumping in my veins
Occupying your borrowed space
I embrace, I cage myself within
Vowing never to drift out & in
After the moment with you
Stepping on your toes
My feet are dizzily heaving
Squeaky clean denim jeans
Become filthy wet strings
Even though I aim to please
I just mess up these things*
Jan 8, 2017
Jan 8, 2017 at 7:35 PM UTC
I can’t wait to grow up,
to have the freedom to dress how I want, whether that’s sweats or skirts;
to talk how I want, and have my opinions matter;
and do what I want when I want, and not be held back.
I can’t wait to look back on life,
and see that what I thought was an endless mountain of troubles,
was just a grain of sand in a desert.
To laugh at my old journals and scrapbooks,
admiring the innocence and individuality,
vowing to never forget.
I can’t wait to run my own life,
to be my own authority,
and not be inspected like a creature under a microscope.
I can’t wait to get a job,
follow my desires and dreams from childhood,
and to be able to support myself and be my own role model.
I can’t wait to live on my own,
to spend endless days in a cozy apartment reading, getting lost in someone else’s story,
and playing my guitar, washing away my worries and stress like a waterfall.
Singing at the top of my lungs,
having movie marathons every weekend,
and going to bed whenever I please.
I can’t wait to find my one true love,
to spend the rest of my life with them, trusting like I never have before,
fitting together like lost puzzle pieces.
To exchange the classic vows,
dressed in white and black, with a touch of pink,
our families crying and laughing all night.
I can’t wait to have children,
to give them my heart and soul,
watch them grow up, déjà vu at its finest.
Taking care of them day to day,
from scratches to unstoppable giggles,
their green eyes shining with wonder and innocence.
I can’t wait to grow old,
still with my one love, in a little house with a white picket fence,
watching our grandchildren laugh and play.
Passing down years of wisdom,
young ears eager to listen to our mistakes and stories from a long life together,
helping them prepare for their futures.
I can’t wait to grow up.
I can’t wait to love.
I can’t wait to live.
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 3:34 PM UTC
Its 1:30 in the morning. And I’ve begun to think of the rarities and adversities in life, which shape
us into the hollow ghosts called humanity. Machines that listen, and obey. Becoming slaves of a
mundane existence as we go about our days. Wake. Eat. Sleep. Repeat. With the slight possibility
of variation that may never come to fruition. Why must we consume, but not provide? We
multiple uncontrollably, take from this earth, yet never seem to substantially give back. Something
so beautiful and yet so abused. To give, may be to take away from ourselves. But is selflessness so
horrible? To make the life of another better, at the small expense of ourselves should be but a
small price. Yet the few whom know this and continue to give out of the goodness of their hearts,
are scoffed at by the selfish majority. Why must we, the hollow ghosts of humanity, make
decisions for whatever objective we may have, in whatever situation should be presented, and
then complain of the results or the consequences should they not go accordingly? Rather than
vowing to improve on the matter of contempt? The decision was made, and cannot be
changed. Why fret so much, over something that is now unchangeable? Why not simply decide
within one’s self to, when presented with a choice of a similar nature, make a different
decision? We, being the hollow ghosts we are, dwell so frequently on the past. Thinking so hard,
as if to change events of times long behind us. We think, as if to comprehend our very
nature. And in the absence of the desired understanding and/or enlightenment, we complain
about our very existence. As if anything and everything in our daily lives may hold precedence
over the very fact of our existence. As if to curse our Creator for making us such simple creatures
not able to grasp the complexity or diversity of His design. Rather than taking existence itself for
face-value, and enjoying the many fruits of this beautiful earth, we **** ourselves with selfishness
and passiveness. And we, the hollow ghost of humanity, will ultimately be our own miraculous
yet untimely downfall.
Apr 15, 2013
Apr 15, 2013 at 8:01 AM UTC
the couple pledged
a lifetime of devotion
vowing to be loyal
to one another
as the years rolled on
the bonds of affection
increased in steadfastness
theirs being a true
endearment forevermore
Aug 25, 2021
Aug 25, 2021 at 11:48 PM UTC
I want to be alone,
to sit between the
concave hollows of my bones,
nestle beneath folds of skin,
shut my eyes and
make the world go dim,
just me and a pulse,
a heartrate pumping blood
and when I open them
it's not the floodlit streets,
wars, fires or anger I see
but the trees and fields;
the peace i wear like a glove,
vowing not to take it off the
minute things get tough.
Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 12:13 PM UTC
Every single night, death comes and sits by my side
Every time I shut my eyes, by his rules do I abide
He taught me the intricate balance of questioning and acceptance
He also showed me the innate frailty of structure and permanence
I understood the difference between wisdom and knowledge
Also why one must, without dismissing, eat one's porridge
That a bat can carry numerous diseases without getting ill
That seasons can bring change in the colours of a bird's bill
That questioning oneself requires immense strength of will
He taught me when to swallow my pride
Whom to trust, and in whom to confide
That one must take great caution while vowing vengeance
What's done is done, and can never be undone by penance
Things I never would've learned had I stayed on in college
He showed me that it's but a myth, the idea we call "flawless"
That bending the limits of one's mind can too be a thrill
That it's tougher to bring life than it is to make the kill
How ever hard you may try, life's essence you cannot distill
Dec 11, 2013
Dec 11, 2013 at 3:48 AM UTC
I miss my home.
As I walk along this long and lonely road.
Exiled for **** I didn't do.
No one cared but you.
Although now it seems like you didn't care too.
You just let me leave.
And pretended to grieve.
But I came back to ask you something.
That's when I saw you in his arms.
He was seduced by your charms.
I walked away vowing to be somebody.
To bring the world to its knees.
And when I return with my new fame and wealth.
You'll beg me to take you back.
But I'll throw your heart in the dirt
Like a worthless flirt deserves.
Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 11:52 PM UTC
~for Pamela Rae~
you cannot amend reality by passing a law.
if we could, then we should have one requiring society to
guarantee a happy childhood.
every **** time I propose to myself a resolution
that I am an ok poet, I stumble on to a poet here
of whom I was unaware, and you were, correctly aware,
that brings a good light into the world,
vowing to throw in the towel,
the I'm ok resolution never passes,
voted down 2 - 1;
Against: Myself, I
In Favor: Me
which necessitates try try again
Einstein's Insanity Theorem fool
proofed.
Exclaim! what a goodly word.
If we ex'd our claims (need, due, want) more,
walking in quiet contemplation,
we could climb on our roof (I can) and proclaim (silently)
glory glory hallelujah and it would not matter to
whom (which diety)
we are
addressing.
Outstanding! what a goodly word.
If I could satisfy the claims against me outstanding,
still unsatisfied, while I am yet among the living,
especially the one that are self-propelled,
that would be
outstanding.
I would rather the simple monetary motived corruption
of a dishonest businessman, than the cowardly silence
of the fools we elect to govern us, and gravely pretend
to know what is good for us. I call this,
My Theory of the Greater Corruption.
Word Salad: making crazy combinations of words,
i.e. eggplant smile, vegetable sunrise etc.
hell, I just can't make any up,
it is
cheap and lazy crafty no craftsmanship, craftwomanship
but very self/satisfying and tasty too, I'm sure,
and authentic 100% b.s.
The apocalypse is always nigh.
Ironically, very true.
Let's keep it that way.
neigh neigh neigh.
I write many more words than I speak;
by a very wide margin;
this pleases me,
by a very wide margin.
complexification
(yes, it is a real word) and
glorification
rhyme because they both end in
shunned.
In heaven, the following are outlawed:
yoga, exercise, dieting, crying; denying and lying.
the latter obviate the former.
glory glory hallelujah and hot ****
>•>
4/18/17 2:43am
Aug 18, 2017
Aug 18, 2017 at 3:21 AM UTC