"wilfully" poems
.
•they'd
come at night•
these footsteps are
never light• always
heavy and running ar-
ound•...they are annoy-
ingly creepy..., these aw-
ful sounds•every night,
after eleven without
fail•into rooms,
us they would
tail• making a
din overhead
•when all
should
be quiet inste-
ad•like barefooted
children i would ***
ume...•wandering and
exploring into every ro-
om•...could they come
wilfully•from the cou-
ple who live above
me•i very much
doubt so•bec-
ause this much
i know...•that
the neigh-
bour up-
stairs, they're
old•frail and meek;
never bold•they'd re-
tire early•after late, ne-
ver a party•now... there
the feet go again•drivi-
ng me almost insane•
on my ceiling now,
they're pacing•
they know i kn-
ow and they are
playing•these
invisible
feet•ne-
ver would we
meet•one thing for
sure•this is not a friv-
olous tour•determined
to tell•that they exist
as well•nothing i'm
certain but it is clear
•i think they really
like it here...•
•i don't think
they're leavi-
ng•they're
bent on
staying...•
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 8:48 AM UTC
..
Save from the hidden nests of birds,
it was the only one there...isolated,
like an isle...crested on the leveled
top of a gorge...its way down or up
was through a hand-carved series of
steps on its slope...at its front was a
curved gorge......one would think,
it was trying to cross over
the cottage was small, weather-beaten,
desolate......its wooden walls seemed to
have shrunk...its faded colors proclaimed
its age...its having survived past storms....
from its window, the stream was seen,
and heard, flowing on and on between
these two precipitous valleys.
light came from the sun...and moon,
music was provided by the murmurs of
the forceful wind, the continuous flow of
water on the stream, the stirring of the leaves,
the crackling of branches and twigs, the birds'
singing in the spring...the pounding of heavy
rains on its roof...and countless other hymns
of nature......the dweller had heard them all...
beneath a lonely moon glow,
when nights were cold,
there hovered low 'pon its aged roof,
rounds of layered fog...like a series of
steps....like a stairway to the sky...
fog slyly crept, and wilfully shrouded
the cottage.....it vanished from view,
the two gorges and the stream, hushed,
in the dark loneliness of that secluded
spot......their vulnerabilities, trapped
inside....misshapen silhouettes...
in light and in dark,
the whistles of nearing and departing
boats....were wailing, haunting calls,
piercing the peaceful calm of the valleys, or,
maybe, the stilled complacence of the cottage,
or...of the one living in that lonely cottage,
...lost, or gone astray, now weary and worn,
willing to be found...longing to be reunited
.......with the light and warmth of love...
the cottage, the gorges, and the stream
would be loneliest,
without the cottage dweller...
Sally
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
August 27th, 2018
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 6:51 PM UTC
Hypnotized by you,
I am drowning,
Day by day.
In the emotion,
Of your love,
Gleefully.
I'm drowning wilfully,
Really not to be save,
Listen when I say.
Effortlessly I let my body sink,
Not struggling at all to escape,
I only fear distance from you.
Not the physical distance,
But the distance of hearts,
A distance of heartbreaks.
You say similar things,
Claiming I stole your heart,
An eternal truth this we share.
Dreaming on & on,
We even struggle often,
Our struggle goes on & on.
Looking into these calm dark eyes,
On your face full of beauty & truth,
I gain an escape from worldly lies.
You claim I jinxed you the first time,
So true- weren't we bound to meet,
It's just Time choreographed this.
I can't easily refute the blame,
After all I am an equal partner,
In this lyrical life & this game.
So I bear morally equal liability,
As we observe our love garner,
After all I am older than you.
We can't give into these tough times,
Not now, today, tomorrow nor ever,
For our relationship is a challenge.
A challenge for changing our world it is,
A bright change for a brighter future,
A betterment of your & my lives.
I know you're with me in life,
I know you're surely lighter,
I know you're much young.
Younger than my experience,
Younger than my sad lifespan,
Younger than my reborn avatar.
Happier than my own best happy,
Happier than my ever-so-pale face,
Happier than my knowledge can be.
Aug 23, 2013
Aug 23, 2013 at 1:50 AM UTC
Fireplace firefly, did you come to check up on me.
Do you visit every hearth, is that your assigned duty.
Answering the hearts of those who unknowingly call.
Reminding us that if we can't see beauty in nature,
We won't know beauty at all.
When you return home after the passing of the crescent moon,
Who sees in your eyes all that you've been through.
And comforts you when your tears turn a blue hue.
Maybe you don't feel in the way that we do.
But I'd like to believe after all the light you give, you'd receive it too.
A love from a special someone you know to be true.
Your very own fireplace, who wilfully takes all burdens from you.
Nov 9, 2018
Nov 9, 2018 at 4:55 PM UTC
Ah, in my opinion and in general Indian opinion, love and *** are irrelated. I'm nearly 23 and I'm in love and I'm proudly a young man with preserved chastity. Gender has lost its place in the active vocabulary and the word for ****** *********** *** has replaced it widely.
People around the globe have simply forgotten that the real meaning of love is not *** but instead of this, *** is one of the many expressions of love.
Love is when you get the feeling of being a friend and a family member of a person you are not naturally related to and the person is from the "opposite" gender irrespective of how the system tries to make sense of same-gender love by going great lengths for despising the truth.
As for the homosexual people, it's high time for them to accept the rules of nature as those are and stop doing what they are. They should mingle equally well with the people from opposite gender and find or wait for somebody who matches their thinking about wiser things.
Virginity, or more appropriately put, chastity of a person is defined as the situation of being totally inexperienced at having had any ****** activity. It is a treasure trove of humanity, and is not just a physical state but even a psychological state. This treasure must be shown to and shared only with one person from opposite gender when one is ready for exercising the activities of ****** ***********
If a person, a female in particular, is ***** and their chastity is snatched away by force, or conversely, they lose it to some physical injury resulting from sports, and their mind is still untouched by the notion of *********** they must not to be treated as someone who has been having ****** *********** and wilfully so.
Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 6:09 AM UTC
O, how I faint when I of you do write,
Knowing a better spirit doth use your name,
And in the praise thereof spends all his might
To make me tongue-tied speaking of your fame.
But since your worth, wide as the ocean is,
The humble as the proudest sail doth bear,
My saucy bark, inferior far to his,
On your broad main doth wilfully appear.
Your shallowest help will hold me up afloat,
Whilst he upon your soundless deep doth ride;
Or, being wrecked, I am a worthless boat,
He of tall building, and of goodly pride.
Then if he thrive and I be cast away,
The worst was this: my love was my decay.
3k
Many a time I've thought long and hard
Long have I picked at this stabbing splintered shard
Is He here or is He just an idea that's been long embedded
If He's here, then why do my eyes they both seem covered
Many a time I've questioned why I don't want to see
Because I really feel like it's only happening to me
I've pondered and tried to view for many different lenses
I've wondered aplenty why I haven't come to my senses
Many a time I've reassured myself with the following
That He does not give when you know you're not deserving
Challenges for you He does not wilfully make
Only those which He knows you definitely can take
Many a time that I've asked if I really do believe
When my discontentment triumphs and over it I grieve
I know that if in my heart I want Him found
It's time that I finally pulled my head out of the ground
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 4:38 AM UTC
Life is a journey that slowly ends,
but not allowing you to make amends.
How can I right the wrongs I have done,
With all the lies that I have spun.
Nobody teaches you right from wrong,
not in this life's tragic song.
where will I be in 10 years time?
what about this old heart of mine?
Love is for poets, or so they say,
not for my heart to wilfully stray.
for my heart is broken and scarred today,
there is no hope for tomorrow, so into the fray.
As Life is a journey, or so they say,
Nobody will love me or even pray.
So how do you travel on this exhaustive trip?
How do you travel without a stumble or slip?
Hope is a friend that regularly visits,
Hope is a friend that stands and spits!
But without this friend, how do you travel,
on this road of downtrodden gravel,
But hope is a friend, a true friend of mine
Hope is the one thing that's with me through time.
One day this journey will abruptly stop,
with hope behind me when I hear that knock.
The knock I hear so loud and clear
From deaths door alas I truly fear.
Life is a journey so full of promise
sadly its mostly full of solace.
what will be said when I am gone?
good riddens to ******* I hear from some.
I have tried to travel with love and compassion
but others may say I am just like fashion
as fashion changes and never stands still,
I am true to this hardened will.
Here lays Neil, may he rest in peace,
as his journey now has begun to cease.
Sep 27, 2012
Sep 27, 2012 at 5:06 PM UTC
Monday's vision's fair of face
in the evenings the plasma rays shine
bright until seen through a window at a distance
******* energy from cables to my mind
blinding into happily blinkered existence
Tuesday's vision's full of grace
guilt makes me pull the covertous shutters down
being the observer is peep peeping embarrassing
being observed pays to add overtising shows on
it's so good not stirring when it's too disturbing
Wednesday's vision's full of woe
I am wilfully weak and slack on the couch
enjoying not having to speak or think
about being set up to get upset by nothing much
the sights flow seamless except when I blink
Thursday's vision has far to go
I would be there now but for one glitch
one flaw in the network's mesmeric sell
shared channels free as birds but rich
beyond the dragnet of any script's sequel
Friday's vision's loving and giving
in the smallest way it's electric beyond measure
distractions demanding attention with a hush
willing the constant whirling on with fresh images
look-look euphoric hooks to reel me in with a rush
Saturday's vision works hard for a living
and I'm wrapped in the dream of existing
by a simple drama of a varnished toenail
extending to a click the vanish going
going the way of Ting Ting Cao
your magnetic stimulation of the transcranial
kicks in and in my scrambled vision I saw
me touch your assimilation on redial
absorbing Sunday entire and raw
footage on display a draw so real
the pay channels dropped their jaw
surreal
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 1:02 PM UTC
What does it take to learn that
naïveté is foolishness
disguised as magnanimity.
Trust is a poor excuse
to turn a blind eye
to the apparent and conspicuous.
Respect is harder earned
than it can be
carelessly stripped away
and wilfully taken...
What does it take
for me to learn that
we are only human.
And therein lies the flaw.
Feb 12, 2017
Feb 12, 2017 at 6:07 PM UTC
She sticks her tongue out
wilfully
I make her laugh
helplessly
she
gives in to me
endlessly
but we both know who's the boss.
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 3:41 AM UTC
(1)
I'm disturbed and yet deeply
comforted by my disturbed nature
I'm comforted because my darkness
envelops me-
it may be cold to the touch
rigid and upright
not soft and loving
but it's loyal
it never leaves.
Today, I'm driving
window down to help me breathe
I capture cold air in my wind pipe
I smell November winter air
smoke from chimneys rising-
when I breathe out I'm smoking too
warm air penetrating cold air
I smell November winter air
we're still in October
it's too early for these memories
I'm unprepared- it's too early.
Sat next to me she appears-
a paler, younger, thinner self
a self I'm sure has passed on
to another life
if it haunted me we'd call her a ghost
but she comforts me
shall we call her an imaginary friend?
"You look terrible!" I state wilfully.
(2)
She's dressed in a thousand layers
"You still feel the cold, eh!" I say
She winks, staying aloof
from any possible conversation
I take a tone of similar indifference.
There she is barely visible
so unafraid of death
arms striped with incisions
a razor blade left behind
hip bones, collar bones, chest bones
she's nothing more
than a white sheath coat
pulled over the skeleton of
a human body
skin screaming for nourishment
to show any signs of life.
If I asked to feel her pulse
there'd be nothing there
no beat
no rhythm
"Maybe it's why the fear of death
has left me!" she commands
"Because in your muffled confusion
your muscles wasting
including your brain-
you mistake yourself for dead." I retort
"You're 21 for Christ's Sake!"
(3)
Distracted by a red traffic light
I turn away-
when I look back, she's gone.
So here I am
talking to myself
the ghost of Christmas past
disappears as soon as my back
is turned.
When I'm alone
the silence
is always louder
than any noise I ever hear-
the silence attracts her back
I reach out to her
trace her face with my finger tips
I whisper: "God Bless,"
knowing some memories are meant
to be laid
to rest.
© Sia Jane
Read on SoundCloud:
https://soundcloud.com/sia-jane-words/winter-air
Oct 11, 2015
Oct 11, 2015 at 4:33 PM UTC
.
*They all tell the same story.
Each in their very own way.
How they share the same canvas,
yet revel the distance between.
At times twinkle in unison -
their secret code.
Wilfully scattered
across the universe.
The stars;
They’d still tell the same,
old story,
Even though,
the words would’ve changed.
They’d hum the same tune…
To what ears that still listen.
But stubborn I am,
as my heart
would whisper -
loudly into the quiet.
As if to slake the thirst
and quell the fires…
The remains of the love…
Of ages come.*
.
Jan 14, 2024
Jan 14, 2024 at 1:55 PM UTC
Found in regions dark and dank
Where vaulting caverns, huge of span,
Hide tablets lost in dust and mire
Upon which wrote... are Runes of Man.
Ancient wizards, bent and thin,
Travelled far with guiding hand,
Clad in gowns of filth and sin
To meet in Pharaoh’s desert land.
There beneath the shade of palm
Bequeathed the olives, lentils, lamb,
They forged the Runes of wisdom’s balm
To guide the future world of man.
Runes which set and redefined
The boundaries of humankind,
Hieroglyphics hungered for,
For which a Pope would **** to find.
Mantras carved in granite stone
Which call a halt to man’s excess,
Which drop the sword of heaven’s wrath
On they who wilfully transgress.
Runes which set the matrix line
Cage temptation’s flaccid paw,
**** the greed of Satan’s spawn
And limit mankind’s lust for more.
There is a limit to resource,
There is a point, which gone beyond,
Unravels all that's won before
And leaves a chaos... pale and wan
So seek to find the Runes of Man,
Venture into Hell's hot maw,
Plunge the depths of oceans deep
Claim and keep... by tooth by claw.
These ancient Runes by ancient men
Who gifted us their wisdoms grace,
Who gathered in an ancient time
To future proof this human race.
Marshalg
@the Bach
Mangere Bridge
22 January 2011
Jan 21, 2011
Jan 21, 2011 at 12:00 PM UTC
Like blood slowly
ballooning into a tiny orb
from a pin *****
It simply swelled
and bulged…
As it clung precariously
upon the tip of my nib.
A slight tremble,
almost a hesitation -
seemingly afraid to take
the leap of faith.
Afraid to take the plunge,
only to wilfully break
the expanse of blank parchment.
Afraid to taint the whiteness
with the ruthlessness
of indelible black.
Jul 23, 2021
Jul 23, 2021 at 2:28 PM UTC
#*Caught in the mundane
Imagination escapes my thoughts
Wilfully plant themselves someplace alive
Joyous trees in the forest thrive
Not a word
Written nor spoken
Some emotions best buried underneath
Not to be watered never to sprout
Crossing paths and boundaries too
Rain meets summer, seasons intermingle
Flowering blooms spring stays bold
Leaves of colour, turn to gold
My thoughts like silt and sand
Awash and Washed ashore
Emerge and submerge
Wavering like the waves
The mundane rose and raved
Common its place
Not a day with or without
Every day life thrives*#
Jul 18, 2023
Jul 18, 2023 at 2:38 PM UTC
It waves hard, like
An ordeal of times past;
Irresistible, it wears down
Wilfully mortal endurance;
It worries, like summer sky,
Setting the soul breathless;
In woeful tone the moth
Haplessly weeps to stars far above;
Longing, infinite and vain,
Furnishes the mood inside;
Outside, nighingale still
Sings through the vacant autumn sky.
-by
Hakim H. Kassim.
Nov 9, 2023
Nov 9, 2023 at 10:44 AM UTC
I pick up plants from the street and slow down
Caring with soil, scissors and cotton wool
I slow down and cook, for him, and with him
everything else slows down. I don't do much
At first wilfully, daily exercises
and meditation, my body asked for it
Attention
Esther covered my skin, he caresses
it, he catches my navel lint
Childish games, silly jokes
Giggling like a lama
Cuddling, energy
from the sun behind my clouds
Peace of on and off buttons
The slower ******* and spitting
of the ganglia in my head
No more overdrive
All neural pathways know it
Jun 27, 2023
Jun 27, 2023 at 3:49 AM UTC
"So how do you feel about
Not being invited to your sister's wedding?"
Such was the question he had asked one Saturday in his kitchen.
It was a tactless premise to
The dispelling of his unwanted wisdom
For such was his manner
Of seeking ways to tell us all how best for us to do
"Thus and so,"
Even in matters that he knew not
Hence the thoughtless question
Which yes, he actually asked
Causing them to flinch in pain at the recollection
That they had been so wilfully forgotten
By someone whom they both loved dearly
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 12:19 PM UTC
A tall slender grizzly old man gently touched my shoulder
exactly the way my late beloved father used to do
Daddy a saint who loved and was proud of his son like no other
He lived and loved for all his children too
Unjustly hated alone and friendless in a cold cruel barren land
This grizzly old stranger patted my shoulder
Cause in a simple polite gesture I held the door opened for him
But in that gentle pat of his touch I felt the spirit of my father
It told me not to worry and that one day everything would be ok
In that sanctified epoch it was a message from heaven
Be as you are my child for the old and the wise see truth like day
we know the good ones unlike those at sixes and sevens
Those that are wilfully chosen to walk the path of true Light
have Guardians, ArchAngels and Pious messengers
Be it my saintly father or someone else's grizzly father in white
To reassure, protect, to guard and remind - Stay the true path
A tall slender grizzly old man gently touched my shoulder
When all seemed forlorn and wicked voices sang
An innocuous humane act but a sign from God's realm older
I will reach out and touch and distance you from evil,s fang
Go gently my children for I am here and no harm will befall you
Nov 20, 2018
Nov 20, 2018 at 12:57 PM UTC
It takes on deaths horrible form thereunto,
Breaching the seas pensively askew;
Spun brutally from troubling winds of false accord,
Ignored by expression but surely explored.
O 'tis madness, voices beat savagely in my head,
Upon quiet of night as insanely they wilfully imbed.
Through mortal fear I am awakened,
There's nowhere pleasant to run 'tis my chastened.
Of life's despairs nor demons wrathful hold,
Hast thereof nightmares foretold.
In the chilling air, killing heedful wisdoms impaired,
Had I faltered, I'd been sadly unprepared.
Pressed onwards I could only dream,
With care it'd be a future supreme.
Deep in my bleeding thoughts I tried to grasp it,
Yet every brutal bound 'twas likely unfit.
Ah, let evil echo through my disrupting mind,
The faces, that blushed mostly unkind.
A hideous desire inexplicable, entombed from within,
Hastily it beckons thereunto an original sin.
The voices, whose horrid duty I deplore,
Of the old vast despairs it will implore.
But alone I am 'tis surely surpassing a realm of rage,
And all I seen, mattered naught offstage.
Regrettably in the valley of despair I have always lived,
Therefrom I am truly a weltered child deprived.
Onto the rough cobble stones bloodied and quite torn,
That tragic wind, caught in hells uproar forlorn.
A sea of red, kept in an eternal twinge,
Through to agonies I'd impinge.
Ah how they weep, the mystic fools they weep,
In fake smiles these too rustle forth and reap.
Though I'm stirred I cannot follow,
O'er endless toil I as wallow.
Unto violent passions, soaring in tempting extremes,
Of pastures buried, a life in poor redeems.
For nothing concerted I came thereafter seeking,
Every question asked it begged a haggard beseeching.
Thus in a dim labyrinth of lies I found some solace,
Here in the direst valley of despair it's my disgrace.
Mar 23, 2013
Mar 23, 2013 at 7:25 PM UTC
My beloved
I always remember
Once my soul
Had taken a ride
On a marital-bliss river
Jubilant nothing or no one
Could put us asunder.
But after I learnt
You have sown mistrust
On the fertile ground
Of my heart
When you cheated on me
Wilfully letting
A cherished corner
To a lover another
The quite donning
Ecstasy's river
Which I happily
Used to ride
Had taken leave
For ever
To uncharted water!
Bringing warmth
To my hearth,
Once you have made
My life a paradise on earth
Soon to change it to
An earthly hell
Worse than what sinners
Expect after death!
Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 10:20 AM UTC
I'd be the first to admit that my life is a mess.
I'm ******* up, mentally, emotionally, that I'll confess
I act this way to hide my heart
hidden from beasts who'll tear it apart
showing it only to the one I can trust
giving it to her, willfully. I must.
she's broken down the walls
and she's answered all my calls
time and time again, without a doubt
she's shown me what its all about
my heart, willfully given, its hers now
I won't need it if she leaves, I'll take the bow
say my goodbyes and exit stage right
cuz my heart will be with her every night.
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 7:38 PM UTC
I have been wandering how mommy
Sweet did come by such a tommy
Big, enquired the pretty darling
Of her dear dad. It's the Lord's doing.
A boon so marvellous to behold, that's true
And priceless. I can't take thee now thru'
The episode whole. But it did wilfully happen
Tween me and her, said more the pop, when
We blithely together laid for a marital affair,
Cheek and jowl, that we might perfectly pair
And have in unison our amorous-laced passion,
Melting them into one inseparable fermented fusion.
From that act of affection came her womb large,
From which a life precious like thou will emerge--
God willing--soon; after nine-seemingly-slow months of
Steady evolvement and care, it will be time enough
To bring forth. It might be twins or more, or a boy
Or a girl only; but when a scan is employ-
Ed, you can confirm the very gender and number prior
To the hour of parturition of that gift of honour.
Thou wilt be wise, pray i, my peering daughter,
As thou by age by and by dost begin to muster
In life empirical knowledge and understanding
To unravel the mystery behind a protruding
Belly of a woman firsthand thyself. In school
And everywhere prithee, my child, be nobody's fool.
May 3, 2012
May 3, 2012 at 3:36 AM UTC
Silly that my heart should
Be a secret,
That my love should whisper wishes
Than wear them wilfully
On his sleeve.
But my soul only sours
In silent sharing -
The eyes meeting in mischief
Across a room busy and unassuming,
Of the quick lift of lips,
The stifled snicker, the cheeky wink
That makes something wonderful
Flicker in my chest,
Caught breath at the beauty
In the boon
Of being the only two
Who know -
Without obvious touch
Or flamboyant show -
The all of each other.
Silly that my heart
Should be a secret,
Given in confidential agreement,
But I only give all
For those who would take silently
The big and the small,
And shelter those morsels
Like a treasure,
Never measuring their worth
By grand shows of splendour,
But by the tender
certainty of together
In the quiet.
Nov 18, 2023
Nov 18, 2023 at 1:21 AM UTC