Waling poems on Hello Poetry

brandon nagley Sep 2015

i.

Mine Waling-Waling
If mine existence soon doth leaveth;
Mine psalm's art left here on Hello Poetry
In thine Palm's they shalt speaketh.

ii.

If this shalt be the ******
Mine rhyme's in thee;
Shalt be entwined
Into thy mind, I will meeteth thee in heaven's gate nine, the back.

iii.

If soon shalt be mine termination
I'll meeteth thee at the station;
Wherein cerulean airmist
Shalt maketh me drift, onward ahead.

iv.

Amongst the living
Not dead;
I shalt findeth thou
If today's mine last breathe somehow, I'll be waiting in a shroud.

v.

If mine Incarnadine
Shalt be spilt as wine;
And I hemorrhage from mine brain
Just remember queen, eternally, we shalt meet and be one again.

©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley/Filipino rose dedication

A waling-waling flower or scientific name for it is (Vanda sanderiana) it is the Philippines national flower.. Used in title....it has pinkish red orange and yellow colors to it quite beautiful..

#love #forever #soulmates #hari #reyna #earl-jane-nagley #waling-waling-flower #if-i-die-tonight

kingjay Jan 2019

Ang Buhay sa Takipsilim #43

Sinikap mag-aral, nilakad ang paaralan
Upang may grado na ipapakita sa ama na siyang ipagmamayabang
Nagtapos sa elementarya na kabilang sa mataas na seksyon
-Hinay -hinay inakyat ang tagdan ng dunong

Sa paaralang sekondarya ay namayagpag
Sa pangkat ng namumukadkad na bulaklak - Waling-waling na mahalimuyak
Nakinig sa ikalawang magulang at nadagdagan ang kapurit na katalinuhan

Sa taong dalawang libo't walo ay masyadong seryoso
Puno ng mga tala ang mga kwaderno
Di man pala - kaibigan,
Kaklase sa nakaraan ay natatandaan

Sa ikalawang taon sa sekondarya na edukasyon
Agila naman ang kinabibilangan
Mandaragit at salinlahi ng pambansang ibon
Malapad na balawis, sa pagkumpay sa
dagat ay dumadaluyong

Walang kamuwang-muwang nang nahagip ng pag-ibig sa isang tingin
Kung kailan nag-umpisa sa paggawa ng tula
Dahil ba kay Dessa o di kaya
talento na Kanyang biniyaya

Phosphorimental Oct 2014

The Gardens of Siam

Whiskers stir on dandelion stems
While dawn departs on fragrant winds.
“We see the sun, his shadow’s falling,”
from the treetops, cried the waling-waling.

Wink awake oh dreaming rose
Brush your trestles from the briers
Till the soils of your tactics
And climb the trellis to all you aspire.

Your roses wait another day
To see how green his eyes.
Ruby hues will take their queues
From the orchids when they cry.

Dream you’ll hear a swinging gate
While working in your garden
There past the fountain, you’ll catch an image
Of someone lost within.

You know this scented presence
Though its logic reveals little
Until he steps into the garden
Of long awaiting petals.

The orchids shout to the dandelions
“time to close up, it’s after dark.”
While two cool cats curl up to nap
in the cradle of an open heart.

kingjay Jan 2019

Ang Buhay sa Takipsilim #00

Mga pagsasalin sa totoong buhay

Antigo - Province of Antique
San Arden - San Jose

Mga kinabibilangang seskyon sa Antique National School
I - Waling-waling
II - Eagle
III - Gold
IV - Diamond

Maida-as - Mt. Madia-as

Gabriel Mar 2014

Me....Gemini

It is the immaculate consternation of my atrocious reputation,
for pulling intellectualism into the gutter.

For the transgressions I accumulated in a iniquitous fashion,
were merely the adoration's of rebellion.

The methodical maintenance of a maniacal mind set,
created in the interpretation of a world that fails to define me.

But I digress from my reasoning to articulate an irrefutable way of believing,
that love, is what started it all.

Infringing on the desolation of the psyche that wants to be free,
but inevitably entraps its own self.

A true Gemini fabulous and terrible, in all their splendor,
are a mass of waling contradictions wrapped in an enigma.

So to say that it is slightly genius, without a tinge of insanity,
would surely be an exercise in futility.

There are two sides to a coin, a Yin and Yung,
the things that defines us, is being in constant change.

Intuition is strong, but decision not so great,
if I could do half of both choices,
it's a path I'd gladly take.

No longer is there hiding,
no more walking on the fence,
no longer will I settle or be a part of false pretense.

Margaretta Sackor Jan 2013

Wicked Men

desperate
hungry
she walks the earth
fear followed by sadness
anger takes the place of everything
she walk away not sure what to feel
what to think
what to do
tears down her face
who to comfort her
who to hold her
let her know that the world isn't all evil
with no one
she walks that lonely mile
alone in her arms
she walks along with the tears down her face
fear and sadness takes over everything
down that lonely mile
she walks within her arms
casting her past away as she goes
but little does she know
danger awaits her
if only the fear and sadness
if only she wasn't so filled with grief
wasted time on love
wasted love on someone who could be careless
someone who could be so wicked as to let her go
drive her essence and grace away
torn out the pages of their love
and for what
just another chapter
a chapter whom he'll soon send walking in their own arms
but she couldn't blame him, only herself
to get so close and now here she is
all alone waling that lonely mile
in your own arms
you'll never know men
oh how wicked they can be
i like to think of them as the devil's third eye
wicked men roam this Earth
roam your mind
you soul
and take everything you've got

Ayeshah Jun 2014

:'( Baby Powder :-(

I can smell you, feel you flowing & moving inside of me.
I count the times I've craved...

the many nights I've longed to touch you, hold you close to my breast, watch you as your eyes look into mines.
I've counted the days weeks & months, counted all this time for a longing-- a yearning...

This time it'll be different, this time it'll work,
I've waited & wanted so long, And in my emptiness.
I've cried, held my pillow close,
so tight as sobs consumed me, taking over my body,

leaving in its wake a mournful craving, this burnt longing...
A taste of what we could be, II can smell you, feel you flowing & moving inside of me.

I count the times I've craved... the many nights I've longed to touch you, hold u close to my breast, watch you as your eyes look into mines.

I've counted the days weeks & months, counted all this time for a longing-- a yearning...

This time it'll be different, this time it'll work,
I've wanted so long and in my emptiness.

I've cried, held my pillow close, so tight as sobs consumed me, talk g over my body, leaving in its wake a mournful craving, this burnt longing...

A taste of what we could be, I've counted each time, for months I've tried to imagine you & imagine the what ifs, on what could of been, with what should be!

I can smell you, with your baby powdered hair, your lotioned skin, those eyes, bright & beautiful, looking at me, every heart beat I hear echo's with my own.

Like these tears I shed, unleased pain... anguished from these dream's, my living waling nightmares, sorrow so mournful in my barren state!

Eye's puffy-red, knee's aching as I pray, night& day.
Day & night, sleep eludes me, Restlessly  I walk a grove in this carpet, thinking of what coulda been.

Mentally I've gone so low, over & over I ask myself what did I do so wrong...

Sealing my fate so miserably, impelling doom all around me, but I'll go and mourn I'll scream out painfully until I've suffered no more.

Still so still & yet as lifeless as you lay...
I can smell you...
Always Me Ayeshah ™ ®
         K.A.C.L.N ©
     All right reserved ®
Copyright 1977 - Present ©

I can smell your baby powdered scent!
For my beloved babies&all; yet to be born or miscarried,still born etc, mommy loves you!

Mateuš Conrad Mar 2016

wish of working in a music shop

when i was young, all i wanted
was to work in record shop,
i involved the nick hornby high
fidelity bug / virus and i was all set,
but them the music game changed,
it wasn't tagged as -sony, -******,
or some other record company...
but entitled self-,
see the hyphen is historical residue
awareness... but there are a few music
outlets open, the h.m.v. on oxford street,
or the one at romford,
the ****** mega-store where classical
music was caged behind soundproof glass
doors is gone... i guess the owner of the h.m.v.
is a benevolent billionaire philanthropist...
we all know richie branson sent all the artists
to hell and actors to the stratosphere
with income from tubular bells by mike oldfield...
i get that... but what you miss with instant access
is the randomness of waling into a vinyl / sly mercury
(c.d. it has to be more than compact disk,
it has to have a status of a vinyl, it can't remain
an acronym... vinyl.... and... mercury, cosine it's
silver, the end, 80's rule, or rulebook,
brick sized mobile phones, it's part of history,
you ******* tartan yuppies),
well, as divergent as a tangent can be,
all i ever wanted was to imitate the high fidelity
case presented in fictional medium by nick hornby,
never got the chance, did work experience at
Burtons (a clothes outlet), even though
i wanted to sell music... the hamster napster beat me
on the treadmill... never got the fairytale godmother
to wish-blink wish-blink magic pogo stick makeover;
but h.m.v. is still open, and went in and played
the lottery genie, i got https://goo.gl/KdB7oY:
why do you why do you why do you voodoo?

Devilgirlzdream Nov 2014

The Prey

With blood shot eyes.
He watches her sleeping.
Tears not falling.

Crashing around him.
The music plays.
The drums pounding.

The voice seducing.
The guitar waling.
It's like your hypnotized.

Getting closer.
And closer.
And closer.

To the amazing sound of his voice.
Opens the door.
There he is.

So mesmerizing.
Don't look back.
Don't look away.
For he's there to steal you.

His arm around your waist.
His breath against your neck.
The chills that fill you.

His voice luring.
As you softly kiss his lips.
Your now under his control.

Poetic T Mar 2016

And A Babies Cries Were Heard

I heard then impersonating in to the night
Whispers seeking out lingering fading light
I tried to stem the tide that slowly reverberated
upon my nightly illusions, I was ever agitated

Their cries, a wanting for me to slowly converge
on ever open nurturing's to be delicately submerged
in the calling like a siren of their endless waling
but I was without child an illusion of nights waking.

My eyes were still listening my ears hypnotized
their true intentions were muffled and disguised
as I wondered in the room senses seemingly unabated
where truth in mourning was eagerly aggravated

Clambering upon my senses they milked my fears
till I was slowly bled through countless tears
I felt their pain on never knowing life but death
now feed, then they savoured the formula of breath.

"Hush little one death never says a word,
"Feed on the living until their breath is unheard,
"And when they exhale that last momentary gasp,
*"Never let it go hold it tight till you cry hold it eternally in your grasp,

#baby #cries #feed #hungry #never-there

Conor Martin Mar 2017

Love of my Life

I want to show you
the language of my hands
For they at times
can be more eloquent than I can
More subtle than my sometimes clumsy tongue
Less prone to stumble or misstep

Every touch can be a poem
Every word can be a song
The touch of your love unto mine
Create sounds too beautiful to shush

Our entangled souls mimic the body of
Two lost lovers found, breeding light inside our eyes
The whispering of love.

The beat of the drum, Matched by our hearts
bleeding passion between our lips
Memories have been taking me, Too the light from our Eclipse

Satisfy, The aches of emotion the waling of the soul
A body so perfect in my eyes, No substitute is own
Caress, Create, words as of yet unspoken,
Whispered droplets of emotion
Running down your nape

Relentless
Constant
Everlasting through the chorus of our love.

Beautiful in the Moment, My everlasting known as you.

Ar Bazian Aug 2016

In a Full Moon Precision of Rhyme

All within the dyed robes of rhyme,
and the subtle dispatches of sinful woe...
Enchanted in wisdom; a pilgrim's trot,
waging and waling at the spot.

Fringing at the hands that drew his fate,
ever so lonesome in his wait.

With scattered fears, roaming earth,
in search of what, truly, is dear and dirth.

There is much freedom, need I say, in passing time...
In the careless precision, pattern, and chime!

Dearest dreams, do float away,
and water my sight, with not grief this today!
While sweetest passions, of ides a-due,
devise in garnishing thoughts of two!

Later mine hearts, when candles do,
shalt guidance us to all, when I am through!

And when thine waters cease further fall,
all virtues when on then, shall hitherto stall...
Beware of that widow, that mocks at our night,
in pitch perfect light, stings mostly she might!
for when golden braids,
spike at God's feet,
away, shalt thy singing,
make surely we meet!

A.r. Bazian

Edited on August 20th, 2016. Originally part of the "Diaries of an Immigrant Soul", Pt.21, by A.r. Bazian, published on Writerscafe.org in 2012.

#love #life #death #adventure #time #memory #dawn #wait

ymmiJ Apr 2019

Pay Attention

Hollow wind waling
Whispering the butchers bill tally
heard by all who listen

Jonas Mar 17

Weathered

Wild minds, strange times
We were young once
Special, privileged yes
But not in a good way
It shows
How we're interacting with the world

Knocking on wood
Waling by
Three times
Knock, knock,
crash
That tree went down
Not rooted deep enough

We're all bound to fall
We'll be doomed
Once the storm hits

— The End —