"wond" poems
I walked in the rain
On a summer day
Wond'ring if that face
Would show up again
I took each step
With the fog in my eyes
I want to get lost
But can't help standing by
I watched my past
As if I'm watching you coming near
And all that's coming
Are all of my fears
Rain of my thoughts
Kept coming on point
Maybe you would
But maybe you won't
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 9:14 AM UTC
Theirs always that person who you won't forget about no matter what you go through in life you just seem to always get flashback of the moments you had with that one special person but nobody could ever replace that one special person wish I had a magic wond to clear out my mind but no matter what that special person seem to come up my mind ...
Mar 16, 2017
Mar 16, 2017 at 2:35 AM UTC
When, in disgrace that I myself despise
And all alone do I lament my fate
I think upon my sweet love’s steel blue eyes
And doing so my troubles dissipate
In my philosophy I do declare
That in all heaven and all earth
There is no one so wond’rous fair
I have not a whit of her worth
In wallowing in thoughts of pity springs
My perfect songbird from solemnity
As the dove from the ocean brings
Green sprigs of hope from land to sea
To the ideal you lift me from my spleen
I am, forever, your earnest faerie queene
May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 2:19 PM UTC
I had written him a letter which I had, for want of better
Knowledge, sent to where I met him down the Lachlan, years ago,
He was shearing when I knew him, so I sent the letter to him,
Just "on spec", addressed as follows, "Clancy, of The Overflow".
And an answer came directed in a writing unexpected,
(And I think the same was written with a thumb-nail dipped in tar)
Twas his shearing mate who wrote it, and verbatim I will quote it:
"Clancy's gone to Queensland droving, and we don't know where he are."
In my wild erratic fancy visions come to me of Clancy
Gone a-droving "down the Cooper" where the Western drovers go;
As the stock are slowly stringing, Clancy rides behind them singing,
For the drover's life has pleasures that the townsfolk never know.
And the bush hath friends to meet him, and their kindly voices greet him
In the murmur of the breezes and the river on its bars,
And he sees the vision splendid of the sunlit plains extended,
And at night the wond'rous glory of the everlasting stars.
I am sitting in my dingy little office, where a stingy
Ray of sunlight struggles feebly down between the houses tall,
And the foetid air and gritty of the dusty, ***** city
Through the open window floating, spreads its foulness over all
And in place of lowing cattle, I can hear the fiendish rattle
Of the tramways and the buses making hurry down the street,
And the language uninviting of the gutter children fighting,
Comes fitfully and faintly through the ceaseless ***** of feet.
And the hurrying people daunt me, and their pallid faces haunt me
As they shoulder one another in their rush and nervous haste,
With their eager eyes and greedy, and their stunted forms and weedy,
For townsfolk have no time to grow, they have no time to waste.
And I somehow rather fancy that I'd like to change with Clancy,
Like to take a turn at droving where the seasons come and go,
While he faced the round eternal of the cash-book and the journal —
But I doubt he'd suit the office, Clancy, of "The Overflow".
3.7k
No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change.
Thy pyramids built up with newer might
To me are nothing novel, nothing strange;
They are but dressings of a former sight.
Our dates are brief, and therefore we admire
What thou dost foist upon us that is old,
And rather make them born to our desire
Than think that we before have heard them told.
Thy registers and thee I both defy,
Not wond’ring at the present, nor the past,
For thy records, and what we see doth lie,
Made more or less by thy continual haste:
This I do vow and this shall ever be:
I will be true despite thy scythe and thee.
3.3k
Sweet Peace, where dost thou dwell? I humbly crave,
Let me once know.
I sought thee in a secret cave,
And ask’d, if Peace were there,
A hollow wind did seem to answer, No:
Go seek elsewhere.
I did; and going did a rainbow note:
Surely, thought I,
This is the lace of Peace’s coat:
I will search out the matter.
But while I looked the clouds immediately
Did break and scatter.
Then went I to a garden and did spy
A gallant flower,
The crown-imperial: Sure, said I,
Peace at the root must dwell.
But when I digged, I saw a worm devour
What showed so well.
At length I met a rev’rend good old man;
Whom when for Peace
I did demand, he thus began:
There was a Prince of old
At Salem dwelt, who lived with good increase
Of flock and fold.
He sweetly lived; yet sweetness did not save
His life from foes.
But after death out of his grave
There sprang twelve stalks of wheat;
Which many wond’ring at, got some of those
To plant and set.
It prospered strangely, and did soon disperse
Through all the earth:
For they that taste it do rehearse
That virtue lies therein;
A secret virtue, bringing peace and mirth
By flight of sin.
Take of this grain, which in my garden grows,
And grows for you;
Make bread of it: and that repose
And peace, which ev’ry where
With so much earnestness you do pursue,
Is only there.
3.1k
She's my special light, when the love turns blurry, creating a magic wond when my hearts given up early, she's my scared tree in my garden, getting extra care until it's grown hardened, she's my voice of beauty my words of potential, her voice is special to me but it's always private and confidential, she's given me a heart to love and a reason to be, she heals me wounds and doesn't charge a fee, but she knows what i must do to make her smile, call her beautiful in all deniles, hold her hand in long trips or short, kiss her through meadows and where things distort, show her she the one tell her everyday, make sure her pain and suffering goes away, teach her love show her my guidance, hold her for long and she'll fall a bunch, smile at her when she thinks i can't, tell her you're all i aren't, make her feel like she something else, a girl a human but a princess of my wealth, she wants this but she never says, so guys who don't know what pretty lady's, want it's something like this is there life, that makes them forget what is right, and only focus on me and you. because we'll always be a bond of two.
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 9:38 PM UTC
Through airy roads he wings his instant flight
To purer regions of celestial light;
Enlarg’d he sees unnumber’d systems roll,
Beneath him sees the universal whole,
Planets on planets run their destin’d round,
And circling wonders fill the vast profound.
Th’ ethereal now, and now th’ empyreal skies
With growing splendors strike his wond’ring eyes:
The angels view him with delight unknown,
Press his soft hand, and seat him on his throne;
Then smilling thus: “To this divine abode,
“The seat of saints, of seraphs, and of God,
“Thrice welcome thou.” The raptur’d babe replies,
“Thanks to my God, who snatch’d me to the skies,
“E’er vice triumphant had possess’d my heart,
“E’er yet the tempter had beguil d my heart,
“E’er yet on sin’s base actions I was bent,
“E’er yet I knew temptation’s dire intent;
“E’er yet the lash for horrid crimes I felt,
“E’er vanity had led my way to guilt,
“But, soon arriv’d at my celestial goal,
“Full glories rush on my expanding soul.”
Joyful he spoke: exulting cherubs round
Clapt their glad wings, the heav’nly vaults resound.
Say, parents, why this unavailing moan?
Why heave your pensive bosoms with the groan?
To Charles, the happy subject of my song,
A brighter world, and nobler strains belong.
Say would you tear him from the realms above
By thoughtless wishes, and prepost’rous love?
Doth his felicity increase your pain?
Or could you welcome to this world again
The heir of bliss? with a superior air
Methinks he answers with a smile severe,
“Thrones and dominions cannot tempt me there.”
But still you cry, “Can we the sigh borbear,
“And still and still must we not pour the tear?
“Our only hope, more dear than vital breath,
“Twelve moons revolv’d, becomes the prey of death;
“Delightful infant, nightly visions give
“Thee to our arms, and we with joy receive,
“We fain would clasp the Phantom to our breast,
“The Phantom flies, and leaves the soul unblest.”
To yon bright regions let your faith ascend,
Prepare to join your dearest infant friend
In pleasures without measure, without end.
2.5k
O show the lab’ring bosom’s deep intent,
And thought in living characters to paint,
When first thy pencil did those beauties give,
And breathing figures learnt from thee to live,
How did those prospects give my soul delight,
A new creation rushing on my sight?
Still, wond’rous youth! each noble path pursue,
On deathless glories fix thine ardent view:
Still may the painter’s and the poet’s fire
To aid thy pencil, and thy verse conspire!
And may the charms of each seraphic theme
Conduct thy footsteps to immortal fame!
High to the blissful wonders of the skies
Elate thy soul, and raise thy wishful eyes.
Thrice happy, when exalted to survey
That splendid city, crown’d with endless day,
Whose twice six gates on radiant hinges ring:
Celestial Salem blooms in endless spring.
Calm and serene thy moments glide along,
And may the muse inspire each future song!
Still, with the sweets of contemplation bless’d,
May peace with balmy wings your soul invest!
But when these shades of time are chas’d away,
And darkness ends in everlasting day,
On what seraphic pinions shall we move,
And view the landscapes in the realms above?
There shall thy tongue in heav’nly murmurs flow,
And there my muse with heav’nly transport glow:
No more to tell of Damon’s tender sighs,
Or rising radiance of Aurora’s eyes,
For nobler themes demand a nobler strain,
And purer language on th’ ethereal plain.
Cease, gentle muse! the solemn gloom of night
Now seals the fair creation from my sight.
2.4k
Vincent van Gogh
o man of greater talent blessed
in loss the same as all the rest
wrestled he with demons of the mind
but oh! such beauty
palate knife could find!
in sweat and pain
did Vincent make his mark
in poverty
obsessed for love of art
he, in his eyes, God's poetry was made
struggling til his mortal soul
was shade
his great love, a woman of distain
he could not win
nor loss of her sustain
a bandag'd head of sorrow
woe betides
but greater wound
within his chest resides
o wond'rous lights
the stars in heav'n found
they to fortune's hand
he was forever bound
looked he upon your rays back then
now his own light goes soft
unto eternal end
soulsurvivor
(c) 6/5/2015
Jun 5, 2015
Jun 5, 2015 at 3:24 AM UTC
All-Conquering Death! by thy resistless pow’r,
Hope’s tow’ring plumage falls to rise no more!
Of scenes terrestrial how the glories fly,
Forget their splendors, and submit to die!
Who ere escap’d thee, but the saint of old
Beyond the flood in sacred annals told,
And the great sage, whom fiery coursers drew
To heav’n’s bright portals from Elisha’s view;
Wond’ring he gaz’d at the refulgent car,
Then snatch’d the mantle floating on the air.
From Death these only could exemption boast,
And without dying gain’d th’ immortal coast.
Not falling millions sate the tyrant’s mind,
Nor can the victor’s progress be confin’d.
But cease thy strife with Death, fond Nature, cease:
He leads the virtuous to the realms of peace;
His to conduct to the immortal plains,
Where heav’n’s Supreme in bliss and glory reigns.
There sits, illustrious Sir, thy beauteous spouse;
A gem-blaz’d circle beaming on her brows.
Hail’d with acclaim among the heav’nly choirs,
Her soul new-kindling with seraphic fires,
To notes divine she tunes the vocal strings,
While heav’n’s high concave with the music rings.
Virtue’s rewards can mortal pencil paint?
No—all descriptive arts, and eloquence are faint;
Nor canst thou, Oliver, assent refuse
To heav’nly tidings from the Afric muse.
As soon may change thy laws, eternal fate,
As the saint miss the glories I relate;
Or her Benevolence forgotten lie,
Which wip’d the trick’ling tear from Misry’s eye.
Whene’er the adverse winds were known to blow,
When loss to loss ensu’d, and woe to woe,
Calm and serene beneath her father’s hand
She sat resign’d to the divine command.
No longer then, great Sir, her death deplore,
And let us hear the mournful sigh no more,
Restrain the sorrow streaming from thine eye,
Be all thy future moments crown’d with joy!
Nor let thy wishes be to earth confin’d,
But soaring high pursue th’ unbodied mind.
Forgive the muse, forgive th’ advent’rous lays,
That fain thy soul to heav’nly scenes would raise.
2k
While deep you mourn beneath the cypress-shade
The hand of Death, and your dear daughter laid
In dust, whose absence gives your tears to flow,
And racks your ***** with incessant woe,
Let Recollection take a tender part,
Assuage the raging tortures of your heart,
Still the wild tempest of tumultuous grief,
And pour the heav’nly nectar of relief:
Suspend the sigh, dear Sir, and check the groan,
Divinely bright your daughter’s Virtues shone:
How free from scornful pride her gentle mind,
Which ne’er its aid to indigence declin’d!
Expanding free, it sought the means to prove
Unfailing charity, unbounded love!
She unreluctant flies to see no more
Her dear-lov’d parents on earth’s dusky shore:
Impatient heav’n’s resplendent goal to gain,
She with swift progress cuts the azure plain,
Where grief subsides, where changes are no more,
And life’s tumultuous billows cease to roar;
She leaves her earthly mansion for the skies,
Where new creations feast her wond’ring eyes.
To heav’n’s high mandate cheerfully resign’d
She mounts, and leaves the rolling globe behind;
She, who late wish’d that Leonard might return,
Has ceas’d to languish, and forgot to mourn;
To the same high empyreal mansions come,
She joins her spouse, and smiles upon the tomb:
And thus I hear her from the realms above:
“Lo! this the kingdom of celestial love!
“Could ye, fond parents, see our present bliss,
“How soon would you each sigh, each fear dismiss?
“Amidst unutter’d pleasures whilst I play
“In the fair sunshine of celestial day,
“As far as grief affects an happy soul
“So far doth grief my better mind controul,
“To see on earth my aged parents mourn,
“And secret wish for T——! to return:
“Let brighter scenes your ev’ning-hours employ:
“Converse with heav’n, and taste the promis’d joy”
1.7k
On the moor dwells Bonnie Jennie
On the cliffs she flies alone;
And her beauty is of such force
'Twill turn any man to stone.
The fairness of her wond'rous face
Has made men blind, crazed, or sick;
And the fleeting chill of her touch
Has frozen them to the quick.
And in the land a soldier dwells,
As straight as ary on the moor;
"And I must touch Jennie's hand," he says,
"Just once, ere I breathe no more."
Would you forsake your house and home,
Forsake your good friends three?
"I'd forsake it all for Jennie's touch,
I'd swim through the wine-dark sea."
Would you forsake all you know,
And forsake your station here?
"For Bonnie Jennie's thrilling touch,
I'd go with no twinge of fear."
But Bonnie Jennie beckons now,
She beckons with shiv’ring hand!
"Then I must leave you in the mist,
And say farewell to my native land."
He starts, and moves, and reaches out
To caress that impossible face;
But Bonnie Jennie flutters back,
And darts from place to place.
And the Bonnie Jennie is away,
Pulled back like a kite on a string;
And he is left with naught but mist,
And can hear not a blessed thing.
And try as he might, he cannot recall
The features of her he has seen;
He is tormented by his missing thoughts
But does not know what they mean.
Jan 24, 2010
Jan 24, 2010 at 6:31 AM UTC
She
People-watches
Lipstick-blotches
Kissing her coffee cup
Daydream-drinker
Over-thinker
Brewing in her mind.
Bold-with cream
Cool-with steam
Latte lifting up
Always stirring
Wond'ring, worry'ing
Of love she left behind.
|b.g.|
Oct 6, 2016
Oct 6, 2016 at 12:18 PM UTC
1
What faith remains today
that isn't locked inside
the muted minds of flagging few
to languish and reside?
Is there goodness to be reaped,
by human hands untarnished,
1 when HARM and MONeY grace the glutton's table,
by lies and discord garnished;
2 when greed spangles spotless hearts
3 and lust commands their every whim;
4 when envy robs their neighbor
5 and sloth denies them vim;
6 when wrath clouds their waning reason
7 that's by pride already dim?
2
Oh say, can't you see that Uncle Sam's a-slumber?
He's dreaming the dream that built big cities
and put a chicken in each ***
the dream that left the people wond'ring
at what their silent god had wrought.
3
Oh say, can't you see that Uncle Sam's asleep?
He's drifted off to the American dream
and not by counting sheep.
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 12:48 AM UTC
sometimes it creeps into the bones in my knees and it gives me artist's arthritis
i massage myself with the dull point of a pencil,
listening to the soothing sound of my thoughts coming to life
and sometimes an idea will crawl into my ear and lay its eggs there
if my passion is warm enough, they are incubated on the inside of my skull and crack open without warning
and to clear my head of the leftover eggshells, i have to play minesweeper for days on end
wond'ring when my days will end
and if my poetry will still be breathing
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 12:52 AM UTC
Pass up until you have it
Wait up until you need it
Tell me the password
I’ll show you and light it up
Give me a valid reason
Inhale until you’re weezing
What are the magic words
Flunked conversations
You have the pedigree
I’ll stay up until your free
Blank revelations
Song inspiration
Pass up until you need it
Don’t rush you’ll have to save it
Tell me the password
I’ll show you and light it up.
They give you lame advices
Trippin’ the lane you’re passing
Timely decisions
They’re on a mission
Talkative boy’s on fire
He gets the double score
He does no picking
Swimming on double rivers
—
I’m just another option
The secondary mission
When he’s out partying
Practically speaking
Pass up until you need it
Wait up until you got it
Tell me the password
I’ll show you and fire it up
Give me a valid reason
Inhale until you’re weezing
What are those magic words
Anticipating
Stay put your inner spirits
Hit it until you miss it
What is the password
Tell me the magic words
My life is very tragic
One hundred percent logic
No fun and happy games
To feed your spirit
Show me your hidden feelings
Give me a point for living
Anticipations
And convolutions
—
Pass up until you say it
Wait up until you keep it
Tell me the password
I’ll show you and light it up
Give me a valid lesson
Inhale until you’re teasing
What are the magic words
Dumped conversations
Never to be belonging
Clingy from floor to ceiling
Am I assuming
This love is blooming?
I’ll take you up the mountains
Reserve a room what happens
I don’t initiate
The pathway to heavens
You may be here just wond’ring
Why are we doing nothing
I am a loser
But never a user
Now you’re showing your body
You are getting too naughty
Tell me the password
I’ll keep it then light it up
—
Igniting the inner senses
Decluttering all the messes
What is the password
Tell me, I’ll act it up
Pass up until you see it
Wait up until you touch it
Tell me the password
I’ll show you and fire it up
Apr 19, 2019
Apr 19, 2019 at 12:57 PM UTC
We live life each and every day
Wond’ring when we’ll come to say
I am not afraid
Spiders, clowns, nightmares
All seem so cruel, unfair,
Not to me
I fear not death
Nor the smell of my breath,
I fear people
Not thoughts or opinions
Or loss of dominion,
But unconsciousness
I fear misinterpretation
And the discrimination
Of my voice
Maybe odd maybe strange
And someday I may change,
But not today.
Call me different-weird
Your words are only smeared,
For I am me.
I am the me that screams
Past all of my dreams,
At my reflection
Nobody else hears it
‘cause I’m scared to admit,
They won’t realize.
I continue to block away
More and more, day after day
And it doesn't help
Growing vulnerable, weaker
Tying, retying my sneaker,
Living with fear another day.
-David Rombouts-
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 12:43 AM UTC
The precipice, that heart-strung edge
Feet resting on the threshold
The fabled point of no return
Time stops and slows; I’m getting old
Waiting for my heart to call
That call to make me spurn the edge
For into darkness I do release
The thorns and thickets of the hedge
But should I not be pricked by
The disillusionment of fate
In the unrest of the shadows
A wond’rous light does sure await
And so I stand upon the precipice
Unaware where my feet shall find an end
But I’ve been too long; I start to slip
Nature’s gravity begs that I descend.
Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 11:14 AM UTC
If all the trees made paper,
And all the oceans ink
How long would it take
For a paper boat to sink?
If you took all of the sand,
And made an hourglass
How long would it take
For all that sand to pass?
If the sand was from the eyes,
Of sleeping dreamers far away
How many stories would it take
For night to turn to day?
So I'm on a paper boat,
Sailing in a sea of ink
Looking at an hourglass
And wond'rin if I'll sink.
The ink bleeds through the paper,
But I am not afraid.
For I can see, in my dreams
The stories we have made
I'll sail until the hourglass
Is all run out of time
Then I'll wake up from my dream
Before the sun begins to shine.
9/10+23/09
Jul 10, 2012
Jul 10, 2012 at 4:41 PM UTC
I’m slowly losing hope in you
Possibly in humanity
And I might need to rethink my views
Or maybe my sanity
I’ve tried, applied, cried, and died
With more of the first in between the others
I build up visions and am finding they lied
And I’m left wond’ring if I’ll recover
I’m slowly losing hope in you
I’ve not falling, but it hurts to stand
As life steadily beats me black in blue
With my beating heart in your hands
And I’m tired. And I’m scared.
And I’m lacking from too many investments
And in waiting for you to be there
I’m succumbing to the elements
I’m slowly losing hope in you
Like shedding one tear each day
And as much as I want to leave you behind
I don’t want you to go away
It’s a syndrome, it’s a sickness
You’re my ailment and my cure
I am caught in this self placed thickness
With visions so obscured
And I am buried in 6 feet deep
Yet I can’t find the ground
The value’s there, the price is steep
And I fall to it without a sound
I’m slowly losing hope in you
I have not wandered, I have not strayed
Amidst the fervent treasonous cues
That cause the pouring of fermented rage
And I love you
But I’ll lose you
And I’ll suffer through and through
With soul and heart churning
First clenched up and burning
And my screaming for a simple cue
But I’ll stand there amidst tears, my love
Without a hint or a whisper of what to do
And you can see I’m fighting with all I’m made of
I haven’t lost hope...
...but I’m starting to...
Oct 29, 2018
Oct 29, 2018 at 2:54 PM UTC
To see the world through fairie lens,
The scrying pool, the artist's pen,
To live in such a wond'rous world
Will feed the lover's soul, unfurled,
Will free the heart to catch the moon
Will start romantic hearts to swoon.
So Percy, young and free at heart,
Who from his love was torn apart,
Walked the woods in shadowy gloom
Proclaiming death of love, and doom,
When stepped he into fairy ring
And heard the satyrs ***** sing.
He watched the dryads flow'ry dance.
He saw the fairie happ'ly prance.
And in the midst of this he met
A vision out of Heaven sent
In form of twinkling, thoughtful eyes
And skin as clouds that grace the skies,
Skin much softer than the wind, and smooth
As stone that's by the water, grooved.
By magic fire a dance began.
By this spell, lost was the young man.
With eyes the color of the sea,
Began to court the fairy sweet,
Did Percy, past his other love.
By one touch from enchanted glove
Worn on hand of Percy's goddess
His heart did swoon and heave his chest.
That night the pair was lost in song
And Percy laughed and loved 'ere long.
At light of dawn the blue eyed youth
Received a kiss that spoke of truth
From elven maid, enchanted.
By the sun the fairie panted,
Shrinking from the light of morning,
And vanished fast, without warning.
Percy, in the wake of magic
Was abandoned. Feeling tragic
He lay prostrate upon the hill.
As days did pass he lay quite still
And slowly, overcome by woe,
He begged the Earth, upon him, grow
And take his weight, his sky blue eyes
And help his tortured soul to die.
Upon the spot where once he lay,
So aided by the sun and rain
Did grow a pair of flowers, blue.
The Earth had taken up the youth.
When one year passed, on Eve of Saints
They Fey returned, with colored paints.
The girl who danced with Percy, young,
When all the singing had begun
Did find blue petals, growing strong
And wove them in her hair, so long.
Nov 6, 2011
Nov 6, 2011 at 9:16 PM UTC