"worthier" poems
Oh, may I join the choir invisible
Of those immortal dead who live again
In minds made better by their presence; live
In pulses stirred to generosity,
In deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn
For miserable aims that end with self,
In thoughts sublime that pierce the night like stars,
And with their mild persistence urge men's search
To vaster issues. So to live is heaven:
To make undying music in the world,
Breathing a beauteous order that controls
With growing sway the growing life of man.
So we inherit that sweet purity
For which we struggled, failed, and agonized
With widening retrospect that bred despair.
Rebellious flesh that would not be subdued,
A vicious parent shaming still its child,
Poor anxious penitence, is quick dissolved;
Its discords, quenched by meeting harmonies,
Die in the large and charitable air,
And all our rarer, better, truer self
That sobbed religiously in yearning song,
That watched to ease the burden of the world,
Laboriously tracing what must be,
And what may yet be better, -- saw within
A worthier image for the sanctuary,
And shaped it forth before the multitude,
Divinely human, raising worship so
To higher reverence more mixed with love, --
That better self shall live till human Time
Shall fold its eyelids, and the human sky
Be gathered like a scroll within the tomb
Unread forever. This is life to come, --
Which martyred men have made more glorious
For us who strive to follow. May I reach
That purest heaven, -- be to other souls
The cup of strength in some great agony,
Enkindle generous ardor, feed pure love,
Beget the smiles that have no cruelty,
Be the sweet presence of a good diffused,
And in diffusion ever more intense!
So shall I join the choir invisible
Whose music is the gladness of the world.
4.6k
One’s-Self I sing, a simple separate person,
Yet utter the word Democratic, the word En-Masse.
Of physiology from top to toe I sing,
Not physiognomy alone nor brain alone is worthy for the Muse,
I say the Form complete is worthier far,
The Female equally with the Male I sing.
Of Life immense in passion, pulse, and power,
Cheerful, for freest action form’d under the laws divine,
The Modern Man I sing.
4.5k
Boaz, overcome with weariness, by torchlight
made his pallet on the threshing floor
where all day he had worked, and now he slept
among the bushels of threshed wheat.
The old man owned wheatfields and barley,
and though he was rich, he was still fair-minded.
No filth soured the sweetness of his well.
No hot iron of torture whitened in his forge.
His beard was silver as a brook in April.
He bound sheaves without the strain of hate
or envy. He saw gleaners pass, and said,
Let handfuls of the fat ears fall to them.
The man's mind, clear of untoward feeling,
clothed itself in candor. He wore clean robes.
His heaped granaries spilled over always
toward the poor, no less than public fountains.
Boaz did well by his workers and by kinsmen.
He was generous, and moderate. Women held him
worthier than younger men, for youth is handsome,
but to him in his old age came greatness.
An old man, nearing his first source, may find
the timelessness beyond times of trouble.
And though fire burned in young men's eyes,
to Ruth the eyes of Boaz shone clear light.
4.4k
No strength of nature can suffice
To serve the Lord aright:
And what she has she misapplies,
For want of clearer light.
How long beneath the law I lay
In ******* and distress;
I toll'd the precept to obey,
But toil'd without success.
Then, to abstain from outward sin
Was more than I could do;
Now, if I feel its power within,
I feel I hate it too.
Then all my servile works were done
A righteousness to raise;
Now, freely chosen in the Son,
I freely choose His ways.
"What shall I do," was then the word,
"That I may worthier grow?"
"What shall I render to the Lord?"
Is my inquiry now.
To see the law by Christ fulfilled
And hear His pardoning voice,
Changes a slave into a child,
And duty into choice.
4.1k
You tried to fake a smile
Just so I won't see
The sadness in your eyes
The tears that flow continuously
You tried to look so firm
Though I know you're shattered inside
So I asked you why
The feeling of sadness so strong
You told me you aren't loved
For you're not as good as them
But darling don't be ashamed
For you are worthier than them
Beauty is just an illusion
Yes, you heard me right
Coz what matters most is
The thing to be found inside your heart
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 5:25 AM UTC
Heaven's gates open in beat with my eye lids
As we stumble in sweet confusion
We can taste the air as an ostrich wine
And the only sounds are angelic choirs joined in mirth
The walls are painted scenes blessed in eternal movement
With God himself scribing the tales
Telling stories of triumph merged in harmony
And penmanship worthier than any poet
Men docilely behold grace itself on the walls of heaven
Ever worthy of the eyes of mankind
Of those who stole a glance turn to gold
And immortals join in ritual
The sense of sight, light, is portrayed as holy crystals
Incandescent stalagmites create divine paths for righteous to follow
While those lost in damnation are lead to eternally fall
As the path lingers the walls inspire a revelation in ones heart
Blessing all who listen, with God's word
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 11:38 PM UTC
What is the sorriest thing that enters Hell?
None of the sins,—but this and that fair deed
Which a soul’s sin at length could supersede.
These yet are virgins, whom death’s timely knell
Might once have sainted; whom the fiends compel
Together now, in snake-bound shuddering sheaves
Of anguish, while the scorching bridegroom leaves
Their refuse maidenhood abominable.
Night ***** them down, the garbage of the pit,
Whose names, half entered in the book of Life,
Were God’s desire at noon. And as their hair
And eyes sink last, the Torturer deigns no whit
To gaze, but, yearning, waits his worthier wife,
The Sin still blithe on earth that sent them there.
2.4k
Hail, sister springs,
Parents of silver-footed rills!
Ever bubbling things,
Thawing crystal, snowy hills!
Still spending, never spent; I mean
Thy fair eyes, sweet Magdalene.
Heavens thy fair eyes be;
Heavens of ever-falling stars;
’Tis seed-time still with thee,
And stars thou sow’st whose harvest dares
Promise the earth to countershine
Whatever makes Heaven’s forehead fine.
Every morn from hence
A brisk cherub something sips
Whose soft influence
Adds sweetness to his sweetest lips;
Then to his music: and his song
Tastes of this breakfast all day long.
When some new bright guest
Takes up among the stars a room,
And Heaven will make a feast,
Angels with their bottles come,
And draw from these full eyes of thine
Their Master’s water, their own wine.
The dew no more will weep
The primrose’s pale cheek to deck;
The dew no more will sleep
Nuzzled in the lily’s neck:
Much rather would it tremble here,
And leave them both to be thy tear.
When sorrow would be seen
In her brightest majesty,
—For she is a Queen—
Then is she drest by none but thee:
Then and only then she wears
Her richest pearls—I mean thy tears.
Not in the evening’s eyes,
When they red with weeping are
For the Sun that dies,
Sits Sorrow with a face so fair.
Nowhere but here did ever meet
Sweetness so sad, sadness so sweet.
Does the night arise?
Still thy tears do fall and fall.
Does night lose her eyes?
Still the fountain weeps for all.
Let day and night do what they will,
Thou hast thy task, thou weepest still.
Not So long she lived
Will thy tomb report of thee;
But So long she grieved:
Thus must we date thy memory.
Others by days, by months, by years,
Measure their ages, thou by tears.
Say, ye bright brothers,
The fugitive sons of those fair eyes
Your fruitful mothers,
What make you here? What hopes can ‘tice
You to be born? What cause can borrow
You from those nests of noble sorrow?
Whither away so fast
For sure the sordid earth
Your sweetness cannot taste,
Nor does the dust deserve your birth.
Sweet, whither haste you then? O say,
Why you trip so fast away?
We go not to seek
The darlings of Aurora’s bed,
The rose’s modest cheek,
Nor the violet’s humble head.
No such thing: we go to meet
A worthier object—our Lord’s feet.
2.4k
A Liar says this and does that.
Cries, "Insult!" at any hint of Truth.
Uses Violence as proof, for surely
only Truth is worthier than Death.
If what you hear
and what you see
are not the same,
what do you believe?
Your Eyes or your Fears?
Apr 26, 2019
Apr 26, 2019 at 3:41 AM UTC
you wait like a fisherman
in the edge of what lakes
for not just any fish,
a specific terrain underwater
a definite current,
that makes such and such
hardier, skin rainbower, sleekier,
don’t say it’s fat
or long, and it’s enough
what feeds its meat
what horrors did its fins run off from,
what did its unblinking eyes stare at—
is what makes beautiful
that is why you crouch
and wait the wait of ages,
if you die of hunger
it is a worthier death
than to eat just whatever bites the bait.
The beautiful is worth the wait.
Sep 14, 2011
Sep 14, 2011 at 3:27 AM UTC
A worthier opponent I had never met.
He slowly advanced.
I held my ground.
We started each other down,
each trying to guess the other’s next move.
He suddenly feinted right,
but I pushed him back.
All time had stopped.
Was he alright? Had I gone too far?
He slowly pushed himself back up,
and I could breathe again.
He stared.
I stared.
He stared.
I stared.
The world was at a stand-still.
But then it happened.
He rushed forward, trying to catch me be surprise.
And he didn’t stop, as he had previously.
I grabbed at a nearby weapon,
a stick larger than my opponent.
I swung with all I could.
He was lifted up into the air and carried many yards away.
And…
…He was no more.
Farewell, Mr. Bug,
you were a worthy opponent.
Mar 18, 2010
Mar 18, 2010 at 4:09 PM UTC
1223
Who goes to dine must take his Feast
Or find the Banquet mean—
The Table is not laid without
Till it is laid within.
For Pattern is the Mind bestowed
That imitating her
Our most ignoble Services
Exhibit worthier.
1.5k
Strong Son of God, immortal Love,
Whom we, that have not seen thy face,
By faith, and faith alone, embrace,
Believing where we cannot prove;
Thine are these orbs of light and shade;
Thou madest Life in man and brute;
Thou madest Death; and lo, thy foot
Is on the skull which thou hast made.
Thou wilt not leave us in the dust:
Thou madest man, he knows not why,
He thinks he was not made to die;
And thou hast made him: thou art just.
Thou seemest human and divine,
The highest, holiest manhood, thou.
Our wills are ours, we know not how;
Our wills are ours, to make them thine.
Our little systems have their day;
They have their day and cease to be:
They are but broken lights of thee,
And thou, O Lord, art more than they.
We have but faith: we cannot know;
For knowledge is of things we see;
And yet we trust it comes from thee,
A beam in darkness: let it grow.
Let knowledge grow from more to more,
But more of reverence in us dwell;
That mind and soul, according well,
May make one music as before,
But vaster. We are fools and slight;
We mock thee when we do not fear:
But help thy foolish ones to bear;
Help thy vain worlds to bear thy light.
Forgive what seem'd my sin in me;
What seem'd my worth since I began;
For merit lives from man to man,
And not from man, O Lord, to thee.
Forgive my grief for one removed,
Thy creature, whom I found so fair.
I trust he lives in thee, and there
I find him worthier to be loved.
Forgive these wild and wandering cries,
Confusions of a wasted youth;
Forgive them where they fail in truth,
And in thy wisdom make me wise.
1.5k
i know it today,
life is a short stay,
amidst all wants and desires,
of which one never retires,
desires for self and self ones,
greed together of million tonnes,
such things though many times,
force me to think of crimes,
betraying someone's trust,
for things less worthier than dust,
seeing death every other day,
still thinking we are here to stay,
for and ever till,
our pocket affords the bill,
but no thought is given,
wether we go to hell or heaven,
our debts money won't pay,
karmas will be counted for each day,
during our life's course,
when we did things with force,
which was given temporarily to us,
to display whoz god and what he does,
acts of humans should be such,
giving an estimate of how much,
greatness would be in the one,
who owes such a nice son,
who loves him and all,
whoz values are infinitely tall,
whoz presence inaugrates all ethical energies,
whoz work is beyond all intelligent strategies,
who realises god's omnipresence,
and make him his life's essence,
remember all my dear friends,
when all of our life ends,
our powers won't accompany us,
as in life's course it does,
what goes with thw soul then,
is all of those times when,
we have made someone smile,
and loved some other for a little while,
laughed in someone's good times,
cried in other time of destiny's sad rhyme.
I know it today..........................
Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 4:20 PM UTC
How can I ever be strong
When I know there is this
Incurable weakness writhing
Within me?
Every time, I repeat my mistakes
Because I am too weak to say no.
Every time, I miss opportunities
Because I am too weak to say yes.
Every time, I fall into self-pity
Because I am too weak to make myself
Better.
I can see myself
Stronger, improved, worthier
But I cannot remain on the path to
Success
For my childish weakness trips me
And drags me down
And I am too weak to fight off my own
Weakness.
How can I ever be good
When there is so much bad
Swirling within
And strangling me?
I cannot suppress the evil and twisted
Thoughts that sprout from my mind.
I cannot help but take delight in them,
Somehow find pleasure in their utter
Despicableness.
And I cannot help but find a sour pride
In possessing such horrible thoughts,
As if it makes me special.
How can I ever be me
When I am completely influenced
By the people around me?
I am a collage of mirrored traits
And characteristics
Adopted from friends and family.
All my aspirations of personhood
Are tainted by society’s ideals.
Nothing is truly mine.
Nothing is truly original.
I am trapped in a never-ending cycle
Of give and take,
Repeat and release.
How can I ever be happy
When I know death awaits me?
And while I live on this Earth,
I am merely a meat suit,
Imitating the ignorant beings around me
While weakness and evil
Manifest within my body.
Maybe death is not such a bad thing.
It is escape from myself,
My poisoned, tainted being,
My sad excuse of a life
Without hope of redemption,
For all humans are the same:
Wicked little beings hidden behind smiles
And good intentions.
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 10:50 PM UTC
Today, i decided to rhyme to honor thy death
I shall reveal what I have hidden underneath
I hid a love so great, brighter than the sun
Wider than the untameable bluest ocean
But you slipped between my fingertips
Like how a silky, luxury cloth on my skin slids
Gently, smoothly, flawlessly
As flawless as how the sun drowns in red cotton
As graceful as the mesmerizing rise of the moon
I hid a love, existing ceaselessly, my love
So today, I decided to rhyme to honor thy death
To reveal what I tried to hide underneath
I still hold a love, a love so great
feel its warmth escape like angel's breath
And hear me rhyme to honor such beautiful death
And reveal the truth I covered underneath
Beautiful than the crashing of meteorites in the sea
More majestic than the regal clothes a princess can plea
An immeasureable worth, worthier than diamonds
But you tossed it away like cold, dull weightless stones
Yet, I rhyme and honor your death
And reveal what I have hidden underneath
To honor such love's last breath
A love I hid in so much warmth and faith.
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 6:52 PM UTC
Why is it that every time
I come in search for you,
I find you alone on the floor
Turning black and blue?
Tell me, what does he do to you
Behind these tightly closed doors?
Or why you no longer dance with me
Because your body is always sore.
You and I, my darling, were happy
Before he ever walked in.
We'd dance barefoot in the fields,
Married to the earth and wind.
But when you told me that he loved you
I believed you and set you free.
I'd always hoped you'd find someone
Much worthier than me.
But sweetheart, why so many tears?
You wear long sleeves more and more.
What happened to the lovely summer dresses
That once upon a time you wore?
And why, sweetpea, is he never home
When I come visit during the day?
And why is it always night
That you choose to run away?
Run away again tonite.
Come knocking on my door.
I will let you in; I swear
That you will hurt no more.
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 10:49 PM UTC
Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid,
My verse alone had all thy gentle grace,
But now my gracious numbers are decayed,
And my sick Muse doth give an other place.
I grant, sweet love, thy lovely argument
Deserves the travail of a worthier pen,
Yet what of thee thy poet doth invent
He robs thee of, and pays it thee again.
He lends thee virtue, and he stole that word
From thy behaviour; beauty doth he give,
And found it in thy cheek; he can afford
No praise to thee, but what in thee doth live.
Then thank him not for that which he doth say,
Since what he owes thee, thou thyself dost pay.
1.2k
roses are red, though they're dead
violets are blue, although dead too
stop reading this kind of stuff &
rather start doing something useful instead
or you've got nothing
worthier to do❓
roses aren't exclusively red
as well as violets aren't unalternatively blue
for your information
[who would have thought...]
but let people make some
more cookie-cutter rhymes while not taking
it into consideration
if I have to choose roses
I would prefer onyx ones
plus, I think they would've looked dope as
being engraved on some firearms
as for violets, they aren't much of my type
but maybe to someone else, they set some kind of vibe
Aug 26, 2019
Aug 26, 2019 at 5:44 PM UTC
Strong Son of God, immortal Love,
Whom we, that have not seen thy face,
By faith, and faith alone, embrace,
Believing where we cannot prove;
Thine are these orbs of light and shade;
Thou madest Life in man and brute;
Thou madest Death; and lo, thy foot
Is on the skull which thou hast made.
Thou wilt not leave us in the dust:
Thou madest man, he knows not why,
He thinks he was not made to die;
And thou hast made him: thou art just.
Thou seemest human and divine,
The highest, holiest manhood, thou.
Our wills are ours, we know not how,
Our wills are ours, to make them thine.
Our little systems have their day;
They have their day and cease to be:
They are but broken lights of thee,
And thou, O Lord, art more than they.
We have but faith: we cannot know;
For knowledge is of things we see;
And yet we trust it comes from thee,
A beam in darkness: let it grow.
Let knowledge grow from more to more,
But more of reverence in us dwell;
That mind and soul, according well,
May make one music as before,
But vaster. We are fools and slight;
We mock thee when we do not fear:
Help thy vain worlds to bear thy light.
Forgive what seem'd my sin in me,
What seem'd my worth since I began;
For merit lives from man to man,
And not from man, O Lord, to thee.
Forgive my grief for one removed,
Thy creature, whom I found so fair.
I trust he lives in thee, and. . there
I find him worthier to be loved.
Forgive these wild and wandering cries,
Confusions of a wasted youth;
Forgive them where they fail in truth,
And in thy wisdom make me wise.
1k
How does one measure the value of a poem?
Is it in the amount of letters, or metaphors, or analogies?
Is it the underlying meaning of the poem?
Is a poem relating to Plato better than a poem of love?
Is it not in how it makes us feel?
How can we 'Grade' a poem, when a poem isn't meant to be graded?
Poems are simply meant to be felt.
Is this poem worthier than any other I've written?
How can I know? And why does worth matter?
Isn't worth relative? What is relative, what isn't relative?
Is poetry even relative?
What of me makes myself relative?
What makes me relevant?
Then, what makes my poems less relevant than one another,
when I'm not even sure any of us are relevant at all?
What makes this all worthwhile? What is our end-goal?
Nothingness, empty vortexes of desolate hopelessness:
Therefore, why must we justify writing, when we can't even justify living?
Jan 27, 2012
Jan 27, 2012 at 11:20 PM UTC
Take my hand
We'll walk through the maze together
I may not love you the way you want
But I will always be your anchor
For the moments of gaiety and fun
And all the times you feel unsure
Take my hand
It won't be long till dark clouds gather
And though this route is often shunned
I will be your most steadfast shelter
So let the storm howl and the winds cant
Our future only holds fair weather
Take my hand
Our journey only grows farther
Despite the obstacles that sought to daunt
We've emerged the stronger
As true and honest souls are wont
Against open smiles and hidden dagger
*Take my hand
Open your eyes and look closer
I will never show you a false front
So come back before you fall deeper
Break rank from that merry jaunt
And I promise you a cause that's worthier*
May 15, 2016
May 15, 2016 at 11:13 AM UTC
330 Words
40 lines
The Face of God
By Lisa Noe
I look to the Heaven and what do I see
But the face of the Lord staring back at me
Inside of my chest my heart it does leap high
I wonder if I will ever reach the sky
I’ll be reunited with my family
See grandparents and father and be happy
When I die will I go to Heaven I hope
I don’t just want to stay here on earth and mope
I have had so many close calls in the past
But the next time I hope God will come very fast
I look to Heaven and what do I see
But the face of the Lord staring back at me
Inside of my chest my heart it does leap high
I wonder if I will ever reach the sky
I have followed our God and believe in him
He is worthier than every bright gem
He sent forth his laws and good they were to keep
For him I’d climb the mountains and sail the deep
I love the Lord and I have no shame in that
I would go to him gladly and I’d go stat
He is the only savior of your sinned soul
He will be there to take you into his fowl
I look to Heaven but what do I see
But the face of the Lord staring back at me
I’ll be reunited with my family
See grandparents and father and be happy
To go to Heaven I don’t mind leaving life
For I surely believe in an afterlife
Where all family and friends will reunite
And in that new world there will not be a blight
Love will conquer all and we all will rejoice
We’re in this place because we made the right choice
We followed the will of one and only God
Now I am in Heaven like a lightening rod
I look to Heaven what do I see
But the face of the Lord staring back at me.
© Copyright 2016 ~Lisa Noe~kittylove
Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 8:21 AM UTC
Sought without treacle
Added forces, that knew me
Actual lip for a liberty to still
The oncoming voice of reality, which to live is anarchy
But sakes, with resolves ice?
Brazen futures of dismay
In the harkening ordeal of wonder's spice
Given the gift of today, is any and all may?
Ripeness of worth, on the behalf
Of simplicity, there always a reign
Of suppose and its final victory, sass
Ancient as a cloud of virtue can be, there is always pain...
Till we understate the dreams of another
The courtesy of a somber wish, with it to show...
Caught like timidity was a choice, of sincere bother
Letting love be the lucre of the day, a curiosity we owe...
Is a long-standing debt, to a wishes heart...
Which came first, the chastity or the ecstasy?
The doles of harmony, are saviors of shrewdness that art?
Space for lingering in the paces and shadows, of intimacy...
Is a lover's ghost for any who would, or am I the doting meant?
A chance of risen honor, that has the time...
Welcome me to youthful pasts, if not passion in the charm lent
A presence of mind, with a wish as the only way to a soul's kind?
Drinking with also's ghost?
Haven't to fuel, a conversation to live better, than a carnal know...
Of imagination and voiced seldom to favor, a wish that included a host
Of vice to fall in lots of sincere vanity, that was promised how, to a worthier world...
Aug 12, 2024
Aug 12, 2024 at 7:50 PM UTC
I hate that my only experience of love,
Before now,
Was a demonstration of narcissisms bargaining chip.
The soul source of a narcissists food to feed the ego.
Because for a long time,
I was in deep belief that love was fleeting.
Here one second,
Non existent the next.
Torturous…
And devoid of any warmth falsely portrayed in movies, books and the lives of my friends.
I hate that I was conditioned to believe love was regimented.
Structured and strictly used to service you.
Affection was a mirage
Shown only when I must’ve needed a reminder to cling to false hope that this was real.
And while some romance films
Toy with the idea of some small sacrifices being involved
None ever quite explained that you had to forfeit your dreams for a narcissists ego.
Luckily, this was something you explained to me.
I should’ve graduated 3 years ago…
Despite your hard hard work to convince me love wasn’t real,
That I was nothing of worth.
I am being loved, shown I too can be supported, encouraged.
And I am stronger
And worthier
And happier
Than I think you are ever capable of feeling.
The hole you’ve dug is a deep one,
Get comfy before they fill it in.
May 16, 2022
May 16, 2022 at 8:37 AM UTC