"wheedling" poems
tire siine meñ dam hai dil nahīñ hai
tirā dam garmi-e-mahfil nahīñ hai
Ambition rests within your chest but not a heart
Your wheedling, warmth of assembly is not nor its art
guzar jā aql se aage ki ye nuur
charāġh-e-rāh hai manzil nahīñ hai!
Go beyond paths of reason in quest of light
Lamp of the way it is but not a destination
ḳhirad ke paas ḳhabar ke sivā kuchh aur nahīñ
tirā ilaaj nazar ke sivā kuchh aur nahīñ
Intellect has news and nothing more
A divine glance is your cure and nothing more
har ik maqām se aage maqām hai terā
hayāt zauq-e-safar ke sivā kuchh aur nahīñ
Beyond all ranks is your prestige
Life is a delightful journey and nothing more
ragoñ meñ gardish-e-ḳhūñ hai agar to kyā hāsil
hayāt soz-e-jigar ke sivā kuchh aur nahīñ
If veins have flowing blood, then what is the reward?
An existence with a burning heart and nothing more
jise kasād samajhte haiñ tājirān-e-farañg
vo shai mata-e-hunar ke sivā kuchh aur nahīñ
What traders of the West consider as synthetic?
These are entities of flawless craft and nothing more
urūs-e-lāla munāsib nahīñ hai mujh se hijāb
ki maiñ nasīm-e-sahar ke sivā kuchh aur nahīñ
Bride like a radiant tulip, why modesty from me?
Morning breeze I am and nothing more
baḌā karīm hai 'iqbāl'-e-be-navā lekin
atā-e-shola sharar ke sivā kuchh aur nahīñ
Very gracious is voiceless Iqbal and yet
A gifted flame with sparks of fire and nothing more
✒ Translated by ℐamil Hussain
Words of Muhammad Iqbal
Apr 6, 2022
Apr 6, 2022 at 7:17 PM UTC
He puts it out there, the Schrödinger’s cat of invitations.
Now, I’m irritated. “I TOLD you I don’t have time for.. involvement.”
“But you have to eat - so eat with ME,” he shrugs. “You can build a friendship with someone and still have freedom.” His observation was casual, as though it were unrelated to anything between us. He seemed to have the intuition that I’d balk if pressed.
“You’re subversive.” I said. “Why me? There are prettier girls, more agreeable, fun girls. I feel like I’m on the edge here,” I look around to indicate the room, the environment, the university. “And I can be a complete as-hole.”
He looked a little offended, “You’re interesting, I like what I know about you and, yeah, we can all be as-holes - we’re in a pool of “A” types, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“What do you KNOW about me?” I ask.
“I’ve read some of your writings,” he looked thoughtful, “I may know a little about how you think, It’s unusual.. interesting.”
I’m shocked and I squirm, “You looked me up?”
“I looked you up.” he nodded, “to be sure you’re not an axe murderer.”
“How much did you read?” I asked, wheedling, my inner-writer engaging.
“Tell you at dinner - YOU name the date and time,” he smiled.
“My idea of “dinner” is walking to a dining hall, picking up a bag of food, bringing it back here and taking ten minutes to eat it between chapters,” I warned.
“I have a meal card,” he says, jiggling his student lanyard.
“We’ll see.” I said. “Have you talked to anyone else about my writing?”
“No,” he answered, “Why?”
“Please don’t, I have to think about it.” I say. As far as I know, no one I know in RL has read me - it’s an odd feeling - like maybe he got ahold of my diary. I haven’t worried over the fact that someone I’m in physical proximity to could look me up. That all this stuff is actually out there.
“Don’t think my misgivings can be cajoled away,” I say, “no more talking.”
He chucked but we got back to studying.
Nov 16, 2021
Nov 16, 2021 at 10:21 PM UTC
I trained my gaze to turn a blind eye
To the incessant strobing wheedling away
Weeping willow tears, burrowing footsteps
Needling the swell of pure panic
When you said to me "The anxiety's
Bad at the mo", I became heavy with
The suffocation of 'What to do'....for you
My race to the winning post to
Grab the prize. the cure of all cures
The potion that'll dilute the multiplying
Butterflies grabbing onto your
Worry beads, slung around your neck
Should you forget their existence
A never ceasing adornment lines
Your palms with moistured intensity
Slips your grip on life, where once was peace
Sep 27, 2012
Sep 27, 2012 at 3:06 PM UTC
**** off
Go away
No one ever liked you
No, not even me
I don't know why I put up with you for so long.
Don't pretend you didn't see this coming
I never mattered to you, either
Just a safe place to hide
From the cold
You didn't even ask to be let in.
I should have listened to my friends
When they said you were no good
But I was too proud
And too dumb
And too trusting.
So I let things slide
And I hoped that you'd get better
That if I was patient
And kind
Things would resolve themselves.
I was only a kid.
I remember that night,
The light by my bedstand
When I finally had enough
And tried to make you leave
And found it hurt too much.
I was ashamed
Of myself
Of you
Of the pain
So I hid it, pretended it didn't matter.
And you dug your ******* heels in
******* that you are
Wheedling your way into my life
And my body
Like it's a thing you already own
No more of this ********
I will boil you in acid
And I will drag you out by force
I'll cut you down
And throw you out
With the rest of the morning garbage
And it will hurt,
I know it hurts
And this hole you leave in me
May never, ever heal
I just have to hope it will.
Because I'd rather spend my life
Walking around
With a ******* hole in my foot
Than spend one more minute
With you.
Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 1:06 PM UTC
if i hate myself, just look at the skin of my palms
about the matter of my skin, and the translucent hair
if and when my eyes waver, softly, just for a moment
you, you, you don't even
i am all a mess of words and fragrance that doesn't have a label or a real taste. just a sticky, angry smell. i am all the frayed socks, every ragged hole and i keep ******* the circulation from your toes.
it's thursday, the children are doing that whooping and hollering like they never expressed a real pain between then and right now. where's the pain of tomorrow? do you think their baby fat has ever trembled in the face of all the evers and wonders and hows, all the wretched aches of "not yet" and "maybe"?
that seems a simple question, and all the dreadful needs come wheedling out of the woodwork like maggots. i can taste them, their want and flush and wish and scrape and oh for the love of all that is holy, i would like to be the plaque on your left-hand incisor. let me crawl up inside your cavities, taste all your stagnant air and need like maybe i'll save you if i can just fill my lungs up fast enough with you and all your rot.
Mar 10, 2017
Mar 10, 2017 at 1:29 AM UTC
Dyslexia, mixed messages
Everything so confusing
Susceptible to misusing;
A 'B' becomes a 'D' instantaneously
And screws things up simultaneously.
A short trip from insanity to inanity.
Fiscal confuses with physical
Turning laudable into laughable
So quickly eyes can't disguise
Whether one means the skies
Or perhaps one means this guy's.
If read, confusion and contusion
Seem like quibbling over siblings
But things like read and read
Only different when they're said
Take un-signalled turns in the head
And instead come out backward,
Which should be spelled backword.
Muddling and confuddling resides
Issuing thundering broadsides,
Rendering and sundering any
Blundering inadept ineptitudes
Like some kind of garbled beatitudes.
Some take hostile attitudes.
Wheedling and wheeling away
Beetling and saying it wrong;
Maybe a song can be written
And some tongues can be bitten,
Taken aback by words taken back,
As the Raven said "Never more!"
Dec 24, 2016
Dec 24, 2016 at 4:18 AM UTC
lies: sweet
nothings, soft
soap, grease,
blarney,
bunkum,
wheedling,
praise,
beautiful
storytelling
please
tell me what
i want to hear
Feb 25, 2013
Feb 25, 2013 at 12:55 PM UTC
the questioner
why does he question he never listens never believes
I am so tired now and there is no hope left
Why am I so important He has come such a long long way
The same questions day after day hour after hour
they never vary the tone does though
righteous anger and wheedling sweetness
wrapped in the cloak of God
He points out the cell window to the ******* piled high
and the dancing flames below
He believes he threatens death , to me a sweet release
No mercy here no understanding only pious mouthings
Ah I am tired leave me be
you can take nothing more from me
This cycle is done and the race is over
but not the final judge is He
Softly sweet light enfolds and for a time the pain subsides.
Yes indeed its time I am called to home
stepping out of that bound gray rag I feel for her that She I was
But no more the chains for me My Lady has come to take me home
and set my spirit free
Solita -2007
Mar 6, 2010
Mar 6, 2010 at 3:59 PM UTC
The baroque grandeur of
Warm seas on velvety spring evenings
Is in stark contrast to the ache
In my hands from the aircon being
Just too god **** cold.
And
Who do these stars think they are?
This heavenly phosphorescence
Placed so precisely on the lapel of
The night sky.
A supernova pocket square?
And
What is the story with this ***
Wheedling it’s way down my throat
To try and melt the tremors in
The pit of my belly.
It’s ****** well working.
Mar 22, 2018
Mar 22, 2018 at 2:29 PM UTC
And the young schmuck said,
How’s about a nice
Pretty photograph,
Girls, something to show
The folks back home, you
In your beautiful
Bathing costumes, so
Young and so well wrapped
Up there? Sure, Betsy
Said, why not, though don’t
Think my daddy’d be
Too pleased about me
In this here costume.
You looked at the schmuck
And tried hard not to
Imagine the dark
Working of his brain,
What images lay
There, what ******
Thoughts swirled around there
Like black oil in a
Sump. Sally looked just
Away from him, looked
Further up the beach
Or maybe the sea
Or sky, anywhere
But the young guy with
The camera, her
Being the quiet
Type and shy. But you
Knew his type, they were
Like haemorrhoids: a
Huge pain in the ****
Always there with the
Words, the wise cracks, with
Their slimy sayings;
But you knew all they
Ever wanted from girls,
Beyond the mouthy
Outpourings, was you
In the bed or some
Secret place and to
Be undressed and to
Copulate with, to
Have their way; but not
With you; you knew the
Goings on, you knew
Which way those kind of
Things ended and you
Knew that even though
Betsy gave him the
Smile and ease, she’d not
Settle for such a
Creep with his false smile,
Wheedling words or
Bright eyed stare. So he
Took his photograph
And you were captured
There on the beach in
New Orleans amongst
The other young folk,
Beneath a sky of
Blue, in your bathing
Costumes, beautiful
And youthful in the
Year of our sweet Lord,
1922.
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 2:06 PM UTC
Meticulous, Prodigious;
Pedagogy, Melancholy;
Sanctimonious, Sacrilegious;
Fallacy, Facetious, Flippant.
Contumacious, Efficacious;
Equanimous, Calamitous;
Sclerotic, Spasmodic;
Fastidious, Feckless, Fecund.
Rebarbative, Pervasive;
Petulant, Redolent;
Wheedling, Withering;
Fulsome, Friable, Factotum.
Jun 22, 2018
Jun 22, 2018 at 7:11 PM UTC
I know when it is winter.
When the books begin to show
their thinner side of verity
and the pages not the color butter,
but a rusted wheel blend
with words wheedling away
from memory as the crisp night settles
into bed. Too dark to retain our
archives; too withdrawn
from this warm tragedy tale
turned from mine.
Nov 30, 2012
Nov 30, 2012 at 1:36 AM UTC
Been sending love letters.
Addressed to: Muse.
Snail mail.
Ten pages long.
Handwritten.
Scented paper.
**** as hell.
At first.
Then wheedling.
Then... BEGGING.
All returned to sender.
I'm making a fire...
SS
Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 6:39 PM UTC
King Agamemnon raised a wind
When the whole fleet had lain becalmed.
He’d sacrificed, and hadn’t qualmed.
From horror he could not rescind.
His wife has taken the loss badly.
Not even kings can lessen grief,
Or render the bereft relief.
He’d give his life for hers, and gladly.
And jealousy has made it worse.
The girl is a much younger mate,
But looks and youth can’t replicate
A marriage sorrow can’t reverse.
Any captive’s understandably
A little skittish at the first.
They say she’s mad, that she’s been cursed
With visions of the things to be.
Shamans love to peddle threats
And when the worst misfortune hits
They preen like fortune’s favorites.
And they alone have no regrets.
He had refused a wheedling fraud.
And then a bunch of men got sick.
Confronted by a lunatic,
He’d given in, resigned unawed.
A warlord doesn’t quake from fear
Because a foreign princess whines.
Him frightened by his concubines?
The girl’s annoying but sincere.
Jan 31, 2022
Jan 31, 2022 at 12:48 PM UTC
time marches on
reality's fire consumes—
dreams go up in smoke
Dishonest weights, deceptive scales forsake
as chains of injustice rake the flesh
of the preyed-upon bleeding, amid wild
wolves feeding, soft sheep bleating,
protestor's pleading, jurisdictions cheating,
cajoling, wheedling, injustice repeating—
jurisprudence at the confluence
of affluence and influence
~undocumented lies exhumed
unmitigated truth entombed~
They have their thumb on the scale! We
have sussed every detail on the field of
debris, some so fiercely taking a knee,
others shot trying to flee! "I can't breathe,"
"I don't care!" Why don't they care?
Of what justice is meting beware!
One higher than the highest is watching,
waiting to signal the one riding to conquer
and complete his conquest. What's the true
future view? What more can we do
before we become past tense?
tragedies worldwide
flooding my senses daily—
fill my bag of tears
© 2020 Mark Toney. All rights reserved.
Jun 18, 2020
Jun 18, 2020 at 11:09 AM UTC
Generalized ********
anatomically anomaly.
Undoubtedly, indubitably,
masagonistic managomy.
Peaceably, restricting me,
consequently bare.
Panoramic, parasitic,
encompassing stare.
Romantically constipated,
embarrassing bore.
Grossly, morosely,
simplistic *****
Wheedling, needling,
nasally voice.
Halitosis, boisterous,
unrealistic choice.
Apr 22, 2018
Apr 22, 2018 at 6:26 PM UTC