"wisest" poems
Sitting on the corner while Starring
At the glances of your smile all over
Cover the room by your face unveiling
Up to this moment, I want to be near,
(you were a mile from here)
Thinking It was cloudy on my mind,
But when you are here by my side
You are making my day as bright
Showing the beauty behind,
(They have nothing to hide,
nothing to hide.)
How deep is the ocean trenches?
How far is the stars throughout the abyss?
How much warm is your embraces?
How much cold Is your lips to kiss?
l don’t much care about counting all of these,
As long as you are with me, you are my bliss
(I could tell,) heaven’s gate is not the place of happiest
And angels are not those prettiest,
Indeed, God is always be the wisest,
For sending me a fallen angel, I’ve caught the brightest, the brightest
Lately, You stole what between these lungs
You open my chest, You let it pour, my bleeding heart
I cant deny, how i feel, you are my crush
I have been stunned on Your eye lashes, (glances, perfume scents, and blushes)
How deep is the ocean trenches?
How far is the stars throughout the abyss?
How much warm is your embraces?
How much cold Is your lips to kiss?
Do I have to care about all of that anymore,
As long as you are with me, what should I have to ask for?
Emerald, jade, diamond, gold and silver,
I guess nothing is forever, unless me and you
In this world of deception, anyone can be a liar
Just remember, Nothing is to fear, I am always here.
.......I am always here.
Nov 1, 2018
Nov 1, 2018 at 8:19 AM UTC
Inside the great
big global village
not everything is rosy
even a cat knows it
a leaf can sniff it.
The Moon shines
not in every night
nor God promised
always a blue sky.
Still the roses bloom
Cinderella has the lot
the reasons to groom.
The richest among the folks
turns philanthropist in the globe.
The wisest among the men
celebrate the era for it’s
the civilisation at its peak.
Hooray what now triumphs at last
is the wisdom and humanity!
Really? O please tell me?
Not very far, nor for much,
just because some differ in faith
mothers and fathers left in pain.
Not because they are to lose
Rohingyan sun nor the land
beneath their feet but in no time
their sons and daughters
can be put to death into fire
that too before their eyes
before the silent established world!
Mar 20, 2017
Mar 20, 2017 at 11:32 PM UTC
Technology
Has empowered humanity
Like humanity has been never been empowered
The concern
It has not only empowered humanity to a new level
Brings in the ill effects humanity might face
In the present and future
The new concern for humanity
The use of technology in the wisest way possible
Earth and nature
The very root of humanity
Been in shade
Noblest thing that can be done
Is the wise use the of technological advancement
In the pathway of revival of nature
In the natural and earthly essence of life
Of course
In global scenario there are corporates
Big hulks
That only go for accumulating more and more
Whose concern
Is not the nature and humanity
Now the question arises
The history of humanity
We crave to discuss about now
Has it the future time frame long enough?
As the past time frame
We are talking about in interest
Or the ignorance and unconscious humanity
Lead to the path of eliminating its own race?
Apr 10, 2018
Apr 10, 2018 at 3:33 PM UTC
Deep in a magic forest, with big old magic trees
And all the magic creatures that live inside of these
There is a magic island, upon a magic lake
And on the island stands a stool, the like no man could make
And on the stool from dawn to dusk, resides a little man
Who spends his days in deeper thought, than any mortal can…
How does he think so many thoughts, well you must realize,
That though the man is small, his head is twice the normal size.
And as for food, well first of all he quite likes eating bugs
Beetles spiders, grass hoppers, slimy snails and salty slugs!
Inside his beard he keeps a hive, so honey he can eat,
And sips the dew from roses, which he grows atop his feet…
And when the night time brings the cold, the old man doesn't care
He simply covers up, with all his long and tangled hair!
Regardless of his oddities, the man is still renowned,
For being quite the wisest man, who never can be found.
Jul 19, 2017
Jul 19, 2017 at 12:43 PM UTC
Where do I see you my blue eyed mum?
In colours of rainbows lit up by the sun,
In the chair by the window with your tea and a crossword,
In the picture you drew of me when I was a young boy,
In the last birthday card you were ever to send me,
In the list that you gave me to help me get sorted,
The photo of you holding me as a baby.
The love that you showed never came with a maybe.
How will I remember you my blue eyed mum?
Thinking of others would name but just one,
Camping with children from near and far places,
Cooking meals in the kitchen for friends and for family,
Changing the subject whenever you wanted,
Asking me to speak louder because you could not hear me,
The eggs that you bought for me every Friday,
Making the dress for your youngest granddaughter.
What did I learn from you my blue eyed mum?
The list would be endless but here are just some,
The listener learns more than the ones that are talking,
Words spoken in anger may someday be regretted,
Hate towards others will only consume me,
The loudest voice heard may not be the wisest,
Happiness cannot be measured in coins or possessions,
Let beauty be seen in all colours, shapes and sizes.
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 8:30 PM UTC
What a sight to see
Your perfection shining through my flaws
A reflection so pure the universe comes to a stop
Pauses in applause
She declaws the frightened dog that learned to act one with the wolves
It pulls me
Yet pushes me greater
For my soul it is the knower of all
The wisest translator
The pen
And paper
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 9:38 AM UTC
The world is my canvas,
I am the rainbow that illuminates it.
My colors fill the open spaces surrounding me.
I see beauty with my eyes closed,
I speak my wisest words without a strain in my vocal cords,
I lead an army with no weapons.
I speak when I am not spoken to.
I create Unity and destroy resentment.
A man I once bought dinner for
had a body filled with darkness ,
I met his lurking shadow before I was introduced to his warm soul.
"I can't make it another day"
"this is no longer a game that I can play"
"I want to break away from my fate"
"3 big macs and a bottle of ***** that will help me think straight"
"I have this hole in my heart but its feeling more like a never ending weight"
his overused cardboard sign hung off of the side of his garbage filled shopping cart.
his fingertips froze against my palm
we talked about his life
his brother and mom
their drug addictions
and how he has survived so long,
he was 32
with no home.
he understood life in only one tone.
i feed,
I listen,
I speak influential truth.
what I said to him,
through my guitar callused hands,
saved his delicate life.
Purple vibrated through his toxic chest.
Purple.
the color of
wealth
power
creativity,
independence
dignity and wisdom.
purple filled His veins.
My weaponless army will proceed to expand.
and my soul will always be available for helping hands,
my guidance will forever lurk in the dangerous shadows,
I will speak when I am not spoken to because
speaking out of turn
saves souls.
and one day, everyone's soul will drown in purple.
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 11:01 AM UTC
Battles raged on for
the cold, iron throne.
Kings were slaughtered
of origins, unknown.
Misery and death,
that’s what it bred.
That throne, so cold,
to destruction, it led.
Rebels had risen
to claim the throne
whose kingdom from hatred
had slowly grown.
The hunger for power,
the thirst to rule.
The throne turned
the wisest, into a fool.
The land was soaked
with blood that was shed.
That throne, so cold,
to destruction, it led.
In a kingdom built of hate,
with pillars of lies,
stands the cold, iron throne
as it’s glorious prize.
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 6:08 AM UTC
The local mall now has a Spenser’s Gifts;
I remember that place fondly as Al and I
make our way.
It’s where I sneaked a peek at Samantha Fox’s ****
for the first time,
saw my first **** ring,
wondering why anyone would want one.
I bought my first Metallica shirt at a Spencer’s;
spending twenty of my dad’s dollars.
Spencer’s and Record Wear House
were sanctuaries;
my escape from what my classmates
took for normal.
I took my son into that store
so that he could see the X-Men hats
and Deadpool shirts, the banana and pickle
pens caught his eye,
but I had to point out one more.
“What’s that one?” I asked.
Alex made a face, but in the end
he did what any 14 year old boy should,
he chuckled.
I took him in that store so that we both
could escape.
Earlier he walked the mall
a good fifteen feet ahead of us.
We stopped for ice cream.
He chose a soda and wouldn’t sit with us.
It took a second, but
I figured him out.
He was trying his teenaged self out;
testing his wings.
As we walked, he’d wave at classmates
and be either sturdily ignored or given a cursory nod.
It was obvious that he wanted so much more.
It pained us, my wife and I.
So, I took him into Spencer’s gifts
in an effort to remove some of his innocence and awkwardness.
It may not have been the wisest move,
but at least, for a moment,
both of us felt peace.
-JB CLaywell
©P&ZPublications; 2014
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 8:17 PM UTC
Like a character hoarding advises like jewelry
from a story like Fantastic Beasts, what do you think
what are the best life advises you have hoarded so far?
Sharing some of mine before they get stuck
in another schedule in the slaughterhouse inventory:
"Wisest is he that knows he does not know"
"Just live your life"
"Sing in Full Voice, Until Then"
"What are you doing here?"
"What is your plan?"
"Eat first"
Do not worry we have better villains
and heroes now than long time ago, I told my brother.
In turn, he made a song on a ukelele
after his little one cried and hid away the broken
CD collection of her brother. They called it together, the
"Last Supper Constellations".
His child said, "If there was a Creator. I would like to think He or She, like you or mama, would be kind. Would not that be swell?"
My brother shared with us one advise from his favorite collection,
"My friend had a family filled with orphans. Even when they could no longer afford to adopt, they continued to adopt children. I did not understand before, but I also did not forget his story." #
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 10:30 PM UTC
In Heaven a spirit doth dwell
“Whose heart-strings are a lute;”
None sing so wildly well
As the angel Israfel,
And the giddy Stars (so legends tell),
Ceasing their hymns, attend the spell
Of his voice, all mute.
Tottering above
In her highest noon,
The enamoured Moon
Blushes with love,
While, to listen, the red levin
(With the rapid Pleiads, even,
Which were seven),
Pauses in Heaven.
And they say (the starry choir
And the other listening things)
That Israfeli’s fire
Is owing to that lyre
By which he sits and sings—
The trembling living wire
Of those unusual strings.
But the skies that angel trod,
Where deep thoughts are a duty—
Where Love’s a grow-up God—
Where the Houri glances are
Imbued with all the beauty
Which we worship in a star.
Therefore, thou art not wrong,
Israfeli, who despisest
An unimpassioned song;
To thee the laurels belong,
Best bard, because the wisest!
Merrily live and long!
The ecstasies above
With thy burning measures suit—
Thy grief, thy joy, thy hate, thy love,
With the fervor of thy lute—
Well may the stars be mute!
Yes, Heaven is thine; but this
Is a world of sweets and sours;
Our flowers are merely—flowers,
And the shadow of thy perfect bliss
Is the sunshine of ours.
If I could dwell
Where Israfel
Hath dwelt, and he where I,
He might not sing so wildly well
A mortal melody,
While a bolder note than this might swell
From my lyre within the sky.
3.3k
Farewell, false love, the oracle of lies,
A mortal foe and enemy to rest,
An envious boy, from whom all cares arise,
A ******* vile, a beast with rage possessed,
A way of error, a temple full of treason,
In all effects contrary unto reason.
A poisoned serpent covered all with flowers,
Mother of sighs, and murderer of repose,
A sea of sorrows whence are drawn such showers
As moisture lend to every grief that grows;
A school of guile, a net of deep deceit,
A gilded hook that holds a poisoned bait.
A fortress foiled, which reason did defend,
A siren song, a fever of the mind,
A maze wherein affection finds no end,
A raging cloud that runs before the wind,
A substance like the shadow of the sun,
A goal of grief for which the wisest run.
A quenchless fire, a nurse of trembling fear,
A path that leads to peril and mishap,
A true retreat of sorrow and despair,
An idle boy that sleeps in pleasure’s lap,
A deep mistrust of that which certain seems,
A hope of that which reason doubtful deems.
Sith then thy trains my younger years betrayed,
And for my faith ingratitude I find;
And sith repentance hath my wrongs bewrayed,
Whose course was ever contrary to kind:
False love, desire, and beauty frail, adieu.
Dead is the root whence all these fancies grew.
3.2k
When I set out for Lyonnesse,
A hundred miles away,
The rime was on the spray,
And starlight lit my lonesomeness
When I set out for Lyonnesse
A hundred miles away.
What would bechance at Lyonnesse
While I should sojourn there
No prophet durst declare,
Nor did the wisest wizard guess
What would bechance at Lyonnesse
While I should sojourn there.
When I came back from Lyonnesse
With magic in my eyes,
All marked with mute surmise
My radiance rare and fathomless,
When I came back from Lyonnesse
With magic in my eyes!
2.9k
blue eyed boy of pure flesh and grown bones
you truly inspire
sadly you desire to burn
beneath the suns clench
you have written poetry for girl's
scattered all over this world
all i ask of you is a poem for me
a note to let me know it's true
they say it comes easy to you
blue eyed boy of thirty two
you look far younger than your years
admired by your wisest peers
you say that your heart beats to the rhythm of mine
for that poem i still pine
write it with your blood
i promise you i will drink it up line after line
roy mccarthy
for that poem i still pine
Mar 26, 2011
Mar 26, 2011 at 7:32 PM UTC
Glorifying amidst the snowy mountains bestowing
rivers with a splendid shine searching a land
to shower its warmth in a dense grassland,
sun rises with the dawn
like the spring blooming life in the lawn.
Cold on the cemetery lay like the corpse,
the flower in concealed corner of the lawn.
Life rejuvenates it to exhibit its charisma.
With its exquisite grace,
life fills the daffodils
blooming merrily in the meadows
with the exotic flush of odor enchanting thee .
Life of seven ages leaps and exits slyly like a stranger.
Neither the witty nor the wisest nor do the philosophers
can bamboozle the fate, neither can they preconceive
the lot ,the fate has in store in each slot
hence live the life with fullest enthusiasm and zeal,
the chariots of life bridging
the expedition between birth and rebirth.
Struggle the chill like a gladiator
stand undeterred by the worldly woes.
Life is symbolization of bluebells,lavenders
hedychiums planted on a deserted road,
blend of happiness and agony .
Surrendering to agony is pure escapism.
Each has to surrender on the altar of death
a day or later ,
but till life why not worship the life
like an idol enshrined in the temple
so when thee are asked of
satisfaction in the heavens high
thou may not quote "alas it could have been a day later"
rather thou may be the most enlightened
devotee to stay in the state of bliss and utmost salvation.
Men say life is mortal
But life is eternal you see,
the life is like a divine cascade of holy waters,
one drop dies ,other rejuvenates to life.
Till the nature lives, shall live
the men and generations yet to come.
Life is pouring like the nectar from the heaven's brink,
quite insane it would be to not drink the summary of life.
BY CHANDAN SHARMA
Sep 11, 2010
Sep 11, 2010 at 12:09 PM UTC
Green grow the rashes, O!
Green grow the rashes, O!
The sweetest hours that e’er I spend,
Are spent amang the lasses, O!
There’s nought but care on every han’
In every hour that passes, O;
What signifies the life o’ man,
An ’twere na for the lasses, O?
The warl’ly race may riches chase,
An’ riches still may fly them, O;
An’ though at last they catch them fast,
Their hearts can ne’er enjoy them, O.
But gi’e me a canny hour at e’en,
My arms about my dearie, O,
An’ warl’ly cares an’ warl’ly men
May a’ *** tapsalteerie, O!
For you sae douce, ye sneer at this,
Ye’re nought but senseless ***** O;
The wisest man the warl’ e’er saw,
He dearly loved the lasses, O.
Auld Nature swears the lovely dears
Her noblest work she classes, O;
Her ‘prentice han’ she tried on man,
An’ then she made the lasses, O.
2.3k
The wisest of men adhere to but one policy:
That a word once spoken, is a word that shall long be echoed.
And that,silence, if made one's only legacy,
Would imbibe in them, more than just the ineffable ethos.
-The Silent Poet
Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 12:43 AM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Life’s a marathon
It’s never been a sprint
But time goes by so fast
You’ll wonder where it went
So make the most of it
Would be my comment
And when the clock runs out
You can die content
Life’s a marathon
It’s never been a dash
You must conserve energy
If you want to last
It’s not won by the swiftest
Because they run real fast
Is it won by the wisest
You might want to ask
Life’s a marathon
So to stay in the running
More than being fast
You’ll have to be cunning
If you want to last
And be deemed as stunning
Once the dye is cast
Your victory is coming
Life’s a marathon
Not a simple race
If you want to win
You’ll have to keep pace
And time yourself
To stay in the chase
In order to cross the line
And come in first place
Cedric McClester, Copyright 2016. All rights reserved.
Sep 9, 2016
Sep 9, 2016 at 2:11 AM UTC
Really? You’re trying to write poetry about how
A girl broke your heart?
I thought you could at least try
Not to be so stereotypical
But I suppose even the wisest of the fools
Such as yourself have flaws as well
Yours is your heart of gold
Aug 20, 2011
Aug 20, 2011 at 5:50 PM UTC
There's Midnight Ravens
along the telephone
wire.
Big black suckers
with deep dark
eyes that
see death
before it comes.
These hosts
of the end
pay me no mind
as I pass beneath
their roost.
They rudely go
about their
Raven buisness,
yelling and
******** their way
into the morning.
An unrelenting
bark drums
on from
behind
a white painted
fence.
An insane sound
like an alarm that
no one will turn
off.
I step over a small
cities worth of
ants who are
scrambling
around a crack
in the
sidewalk
clogged with
more frantic
ants.
The great flood
has arrived
in the form of
a timed sprinkler.
And all of
the soldiers
have abandoned
the Queen.
It's early morning
The air has
yet to be
choked out
by the
diesel fuel
and needless
emissions that will
soon began to
smother the
city
.
The faint smell
of fresh fish
makes its way
up the city
blocks from
the waterfront
below.
Old Italian and
Slavic women
stand outside
in their
long day time
night gowns
smoking cigarettes
while watering
the concrete.
I enter the
alley way ,
the smell of
***** diapers,
cheap
laundry detergent
and too
many children
surround an
apartment complex.
As I passed I came
upon the Black Princess
of these streets.
The wisest and
surest of them all
crosses my path.
Her tail held high
and strong,
striding care free,
she looks at me
with her
emerald eyes
and yawns.
She stops near a row
of trashcans that
are lined
up looking like
a modern
day monolith.
She laps at her
paw with slow,
long, lazy
licks as I
pass.
She again fixes me
with those marble green
eyes and lets me
know without
saying a word.
That the alley cat kills
for fun.
Ignores all Gods
by choice
and laughs
at our attempts
to tame it.
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 11:39 AM UTC
I’m not one for writing about things that are useful
Things that can shape the world
Things that can help someone get on by.
I’m not one for writing about things that are relevant
Because whenever I write
You seem to have that presence.
That kind of presence that tends to etch itself on to the letters written
That kind of presence that tends to draw itself on to paper whenever given
And I hate it.
Hate it because your existence is all I’ll ever think about
Whether I’m busy attending to my own needs
Alone with too many words screaming in my head
Or anywhere in between
Hate it because you are the only one that seems to make it right
That seems to quell the angriest of storms
That seems to bring out the sun when the clouds hide it away
That seems to continuously extend even when I’ve given up reaching
Hate it because I never loved the idea of love
You’d think with all the love poems I’ve written
About how lovely it would be to wake up to your horizon
About how lovely it would be to walk upon sandy material with sea breeze all around
About how lovely it would be with our fingers intertwined
Because we both know yours fits right in between mine
About how lovely it would be with just you and me
That I would somehow love being in love
That my heart grows fonder with every moment spent
But I don’t
Its reckless
Its Foolish
For even the wisest of people grew without a heart.
Because they knew in order to live without pain
They would wish the bonds untwine
For they do not want a “yours” and “mine”
Yet somehow in the midst of being a cold-hearted *****
You found a way to stay and not ditch.
I’m too afraid to admit how deeply in love I am
Because I’m too afraid of losing something I had no idea I had
So please,
Let me let you know,
That I’m not one to write about things that can throw a life line
About things that can get you to say “You’re mine.”
About things that can be of relevance at this time
I’m more about writing about how much of a useless romantic I’ve come to find
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 1:15 AM UTC
Lips razor sharp
Smile more of a smirk
Sword as her best friend
She could take over the world
Goddess of war she was called
But she was a woman
For the times weren’t right
And for them it was all
Had she been here today
Everyone would’ve bowed
Because goddess of war she is
And this time it is all
The epitome of a woman
With bravery , beauty and brain
Curse they considered
As a Boon it will be remembered
They became raged
When Athena shone bright
For what they remember her
They did bow down in fright
Goddess of wisdom , goddess of war
Favourite daughter of Zeus she was
The most wisest , the most courageous
A favour of Hera’s ire it was
Welcome here Athena
For the world now craves you
An example of a true warrior
And an idol to look upto
Most ingenious of Olympian gods
Power ran in her blood
As for war she was born
And as for war she will die
Every girl is now Athena
That is what the world needs
Standing up to the wrong
B’cause that is what Athena means.
Just like everything
times should change
Throne was for Athena
And for her it shall remain.
Jan 29, 2021
Jan 29, 2021 at 2:59 AM UTC
I serve you not, if you I follow,
Shadow-like, o'er hill and hollow,
And bend my fancy to your leading,
All too nimble for my treading.
When the pilgrimage is done,
And we've the landscape overrun,
I am bitter, vacant, thwarted,
And your heart is unsupported.
Vainly valiant, you have missed
The manhood that should yours resist,
Its complement; but if I could
In severe or cordial mood
Lead you rightly to my altar,
Where the wisest muses falter,
And worship that world-warning spark
Which dazzles me in midnight dark,
Equalizing small and large,
While the soul it doth surcharge,
That the poor is wealthy grown,
And the hermit never alone,
The traveller and the road seem one
With the errand to be done;—
That were a man's and lover's part,
That were Freedom's whitest chart.
2k
A flatulent king sits
Slouching, scratching,
Congealing to his throne of gold.
His army of a billion men
Are clad in ****** bibs
And grins.
Equipped with hate
And hollow eyes
They stand redily assembled.
The king is a miser.
His face is a lie.
His motives are equally clear.
Royal subjects within the walls
Respect only of weakness and fear.
They are taxed and harassed.
For knowledge they're knived.
The wisest of Wiseman
Are forced to take bribes.
Their children are taken and
Hidden away
At the mechanized dawn
That announces each day
To learn to be
Ruthless and cruel.
To take advantage of fools.
Greed and malice are tools to be used
At their s and m brainwashing schools.
So their eyes turn jade
And their words turn black
As they cut up their hands
Stabbing themselves in the back.
They're just being taught
How to buy and be bought.
To serve the king;
A gear in his machine.
The ones who concede,
Buy into the greed
But their weakening teeth snap!
One by one
As they go round the vicious circle.
So they end up
Defunct,
Sunken eyed.
They dangle their
Dot spangled
Hands at their sides.
And although they loose,
Somehow they win.
They end up running
The world we live in.
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 4:52 AM UTC