"wandring" poems
Poverty
This ailment clips my bare soul
My malady hides my ample sight
Penury loads my cognition. Watery hole
Shift not far my destination, yet too blight
It is corral, harvesting my living carcass
I don't egender chaff in the shining sun
this coop is an enclosure of my idleness
Like a jailbird my to be is limited and shun
*One day. My wandring ship will wheel
My fervor will ease and I'll scope my haven
My wounds and lesions will then heal
I will grab my revenue as in Heaven
May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 6:19 AM UTC
A thousand Martyrs I have made,
All sacrific'd to my desire;
A thousand Beauties have betray'd,
That languish in resistless Fire.
The untam'd Heart to hand I brought,
And fixt the wild and wandring Thought.
I never vow'd nor sigh'd in vain
But both, thô false, were well receiv'd.
The Fair are pleas'd to give us pain,
And what they wish is soon believ'd.
And thô I talked of Wounds and Smart,
Loves Pleasures only toucht my Heart.
Alone the Glory and the Spoil
I always Laughing bore away;
The Triumphs, without Pain or Toil,
Without the Hell, the Heav'n of Joy.
And while I thus at random rove
Despise the Fools that whine for Love.
2.3k
I presse not to the Quire, nor dare I greet
The holy Place with my unhallow’d feet:
My unwasht Muse pollutes not things Divine,
Nor mingles her prophaner notes with thine;
Here, humbly at the Porch, she listning stayes,
And with glad eares ***** in thy Sacred Layes.
So, devout Penitents of old were wont,
Some without doore, and some beneath the Font,
To stand and heare the Churches Liturgies,
Yet not assist the solemne Exercise.
Sufficeth her, that she a Lay-place gaine,
To trim thy Vestments, or but beare thy traine:
Though nor in Tune, nor Wing, She reach thy Larke,
Her Lyricke feet may dance before the Arke.
Who knowes, but that Her wandring eyes, that run
Now hunting Glow-wormes, may adore the Sun.
A pure Flame may, shot by Almighty Power
Into my brest, the earthy flame devoure:
My Eyes, in Penitentiall dew may steepe
That bryne, which they for sensuall love did weepe:
So (though ‘gainst Natures course) fire may be quencht
With fire, and water be with water drencht.
Perhaps, my restlesse Soule, tyr’d with pursuit
Of mortall beautie, seeking without fruit
Contentment there; which hath not, when enjoy’d,
Quencht all her thirst, nor satisfi’d, though cloy’d;
Weary of her vaine search below, above
In the first Faire may find th’ immortall Love.
Prompted by thy Example then, no more
In moulds of Clay will I my God adore;
But teare those Idols from my Heart, and Write
What his blest Sp’rit, not fond Love, shall endite.
Then, I no more shall court the Verdant Bay,
But the dry leavelesse Trunk on Golgotha:
And rather strive to gaine from thence one Thorne,
Then all the flourishing Wreathes by Laureats worne.
2.3k
Thy azure robe I did behold
As airy as the leaves of gold,
Which, erring here, and wandring there,
Pleas’d with transgression ev’rywhere:
Sometimes ’twould pant, and sigh, and heave,
As if to stir it scarce had leave:
But, having got it, thereupon
’Twould make a brave expansion.
And pounc’d with stars it showed to me
Like a celestial canopy.
Sometimes ’twould blaze, and then abate,
Like to a flame grown moderate:
Sometimes away ’twould wildly fling,
Then to thy thighs so closely cling
That some conceit did melt me down
As lovers fall into a swoon:
And all confus’d, I there did lie
Drown’d in delights, but could not die.
That leading cloud I follow’d still,
Hoping t’ have seen of it my fill;
But ah ! I could not : should it move
To life eternal, I could love.
1.7k
To God our strength sing loud, and clear,
Sing loud to God our King,
To Jacobs God, that all may hear
Loud acclamations ring.
Prepare a Hymn, prepare a Song
The Timbrel hither bring
The cheerfull Psaltry bring along
And Harp with pleasant string.
Blow, as is wont, in the new Moon
With Trumpets lofty sound,
Th’appointed time, the day wheron
Our solemn Feast comes round.
This was a Statute giv’n of old
For Israel to observe
A Law of Jacobs God, to hold
From whence they might not swerve.
This he a Testimony ordain’d
In Joseph, not to change,
When as he pass’d through Aegypt land;
The Tongue I heard, was strange.
From burden, and from slavish toyle
I set his shoulder free;
His hands from pots, and mirie soyle
Deliver’d were by me.
When trouble did thee sore assaile,
On me then didst thou call,
And I to free thee did not faile,
And led thee out of thrall.
I answer’d thee in *thunder deep *Be Sether ragnam.
With clouds encompass’d round;
I tri’d thee at the water steep
Of Meriba renown’d.
Hear O my people, heark’n well,
I testifie to thee
Thou antient flock of Israel,
If thou wilt list to mee,
Through out the land of thy abode
No alien God shall be
Nor shalt thou to a forein God
In honour bend thy knee.
I am the Lord thy God which brought
Thee out of Aegypt land
Ask large enough, and I, besought,
Will grant thy full demand.
And yet my people would not hear,
Nor hearken to my voice;
And Israel whom I lov’d so dear
Mislik’d me for his choice.
Then did I leave them to their will
And to their wandring mind;
Their own conceits they follow’d still
Their own devises blind
O that my people would be wise
To serve me all their daies,
And O that Israel would advise
To walk my righteous waies.
Then would I soon bring down their foes
That now so proudly rise,
And turn my hand against all those
That are their enemies.
Who hate the Lord should then be fain
To bow to him and bend,
But they, His should remain,
Their time should have no end.
And he would free them from the shock
With flower of finest wheat,
And satisfie them from the rock
With Honey for their Meat.
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...unspeakable gift." (II Cor 9:15)
(sonnet #MMMMMMMLXXIV)
"They buried me with Mum." That haunting sense
I'm just a pilgrim wandring in betrayl
These des'late wastes all else call home, sans bail
Despite new clothes, accessries for pretense,
And dearest friends to joy with me from hence
Or weep or who-cares-what, this world to scale
Some dish that wants salt, lacking flavour--they'll
Assure me tis grand--mocks life sans defense.
If Hollywood laughs in the face as twere
Of good and righteous, where designers too
Are filthy past all words and smiling fer
Applause, I'm sans a home sans her. Then You
Remind me "one thing's needful---" to bestir
Hope that my home, LORD's: You. Life. O! Who knew?
06Apr18b
Apr 7, 2018
Apr 7, 2018 at 2:15 AM UTC
"...what is seen, but what is UNseen, for what is unseen is eternal."
(sonnet #MMMMMMDCCCLXXIX)
Twas MY lake once as twere, which now in pale
Morn's fragile Sunday calm is placid hence
In slate-grey silence wandring voices fence,
But don't as frore winds own this Janry scale
Of lost joys I view from afar in sheer betrayl,
The naked trees' black silhouettes as thence
Sae gaunt or rattling bony fingers, whence
Is't that the only call I catch--winds' hail?
Snow melted by rain, how th'expanse lies fer
Blue heavns' half clouded eye so dead, yet to
My soul's perception, 'ginning now to stir
With hope, though March is but a dream. We knew
So many things, once, and the lake as twere--
Its ***** like a mirror--shows 'gain what'd woo.
14Jan18a
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 11:48 PM UTC
Yes, snow. Mebbe take my face in your hands and shake me?
(sonnet #MMMMMMMDIII)
It's...snowing. Hug yourself within the pale
Eye of these naked hours whose ghastly sense
Of Winter sits triumphant oer pretense,
As tiny flakes 'non filter down t'avail
The soul of that keen silence--cherished bail
We relished in forgotten days like thence
Twas fit to sanctify us, wandring hence
To finger cotton-candy whiteness' tale.
Don't ask me why my heart sank in a poor
'Scuse when my owly eyes first caught the view.
Nor if I loved morn's cuppa like twas fer
My soul's recure, Assam just what we knew
It should be if you taste it, no. We were
Too fond of lies, I think, was't? I miss YOU.
09Nov18a
Nov 11, 2018
Nov 11, 2018 at 5:11 PM UTC
Yes?
(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCI)
What is't about the train's voice, that th'all hail
Um, piques my soul, which harks unto its dense
Low rumble like tis...what? O dear suspense!
How "nibelung" half winks at me in hale
Dawn's golden warmth as if it knows in pale
Excuse my name, like these elf ears I've thence
Had from conception argue in a sense
Now with my height, while mists haunt with their veil.
I'd feign lose me in fog's embrace as twere;
Go wandring like I canna see unto
The fairer realms beyond is't? Silver dew.
I cherish its sheer blanket waiting fer
Heavn's burning glance, a violet none bestir,
Hid in the darker shadows trains pass through.
22Mar19a
Mar 23, 2019
Mar 23, 2019 at 9:48 PM UTC
The canine eyes with deepened breadth
and knowing wandring gaze
he stands upon untimely death
and steps into the haze.
the deepened barrel, heaving chest
and air pushed into lungs
push him out onward to the crest
to distant shooting guns.
with limber leap
and sturdy paw
my canine friend will seek
into my lap and he will draw
himself against my beating chest.
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 1:58 AM UTC
Mmm...mebbe I'll manage a sonnet about what followed. Prolly won't. But, you never can tell.
(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCXCVIII)
Where golden shafts flirt with the fainting sense
Of clearing skies sae purely blue, til hale
Warmth looks upon my naked arms' detail
As sparrows sing like all is games from hence,
O let my soul, if poss'ble, vanish thence
To higher realms likeas twas mine t'avail.
And whilst the frore breath sifts through, to exhale
With softest measures plying wisps, I'll breathe. Whence?
Don't ask unless ye've lo, the Scriptures fer
Just whither. Now's a thin chance to see through,
Although I canna pierce the mists in tour.
Let my soul hear the sparrows as they woo
Us from beyond this wasteland I've as twere
Been wandring years now, til that I see...You.
21Mar19d
Mar 21, 2019
Mar 21, 2019 at 8:59 PM UTC
Nice, eh?
(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCXXIII)
Say coffee is a thing we brew t'avail
O, conversation with my dad fr'intents,
And little me. Add tea in likewise hence,
For some occasions, is't? Cream just to scale
Let's say for joe, while rosy lea's detail
Shall have it rarely--dawn needs more for sense
Than pretty drinks--and what's left for pretense?
The thought of what we're thus engaged in's bail.
Or let's hark to which plane oerhead in tour?
Perchance the wandring birds which passed on through
As if they were but pieces of what? Yer
Allowed to say twas flotsam, though t'won't do.
And tell how um, the flight attendent's cue
Was one of those twa drinks...for one or two?
28Mar19c
Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 3:53 PM UTC