"xii" poems
I.
Pangalawang pagkakataon?
Karapat-dapat ka pa ba para doon?
Matapos **** saktan ang damdamin.
Ganun-ganun nalang ba ‘yun?
II.
Hindi mo alam ang dinanas kong hirap,
Habang ikaw, hayun at nagpapasarap.
Ang hirap mabuhay ng wala ka,
Dahil sanay na akong nasa tabi kita.
III.
Pero pinilit kong tumayo para mabuhay!
Sinanay ko ang sarili na wala ka,
At lahat ng pagkalimot nagawa na.
Pero ang sugat sa puso'y naghihilom pa.
IV.
Matapos ang isang taon,
Landas natin ay muling nagkita.
Akala ko lahat ng ala-ala'y wala na.
Akala ko nakaraos na ako sa sakit, hindi pa pala.
V.
Iiwasan sana kita kaso braso mo'y ibinuka,
Para tayong nagpapatintero sa kalsada.
Pagkat humihingi ka ng sandali,
Para makapag-usap tayong maigi.
VI.
Pumayag ako,
Kahit alam kong masasaktan lang ako.
Kahit alam kong 'di pa kaya ng puso ko.
Pumayag ako!
VII.
Bakas sa mukha mo ang pagkatuwa!
Dahil sa wakas masasabi mo na,
Kung bakit ka nalang nangiwan bigla.
Aaminin ko, ako rin ay nakaramdam ng kaunting tuwa.
VIII.
Pero hindi ko yun ipinahalata,
Sapagkat, kung iyon ay iyong makikita,
Marahil ika'y umasa na pinatawad na kita.
Mali! Maling mali!
IX.
Napa-usog ka bahagya at nagbuntong hininga pa.
Napahawak ka saking braso, tumingin sa aking mga mata.
Sinabi mo lahat ng dahilan kong bakit ako iniwan,
Ako ay naliwanagan sa iyong mga tinuran.
X.
Humihingi ka ng pangalawang pagkakataon,
Pero hindi ko yun ganun-ganun.
Tugon ko'y: “Aking pag-iisipan” at umalis na lamang.
Hinabol mo ako’t sinabing: “Mahal kita 'di kita kinalimutan.”
XI.
Hindi ako sumagot at sa paglalakad diretso lamang.
Pero alam ko sa sarili kong mahal pa rin kita.
Alas dose na at diwa ko’y gising pa,
Dahil sa aking naaalala ang ating muling pagkikita.
XII.
Napag-isip-isip kung dapat pa bang pagbigyan kita.
Kahit na alam ko sa sarili kong mahal pa rin kita,
Nagdadalawang isip pa rin ako baka masaktan na naman ulit ako.
Hanggang ngayon naguguluhan pa rin ako.
XIV.
Dumaan ang dalawang linggo,
At sinipat mo na ako sa bahay ko.
Halatang nasasabik ka na sa isasagot ko.
Niyakap kita ng mahigpit sumigaw ng “Oo!”
XV.
Sa una'y nagtataka ka pa sa kinilos ko,
At hanggang sa unti-unti kang nangiti.
Dahil naliwagan na ang loko.
Matagal ko ng pinag-isipan 'to at “Oo” ang sagot ko.
XVI.
At dahil mahal pa kita, hindi ko na natiis pa,
Hindi sapat ang mga daliri ko kung gaano ko,
Lubos na pinag-isipan ang isasagot ko sa'yo.
At magmamahalan tayo muli, sa pangalawang pagkakataon.
Jul 18, 2015
Jul 18, 2015 at 1:01 PM UTC
XII. TO HERA (5 lines)
(ll. 1-5) I sing of golden-throned Hera whom Rhea bare. Queen of
the immortals is she, surpassing all in beauty: she is the sister
and the wife of loud-thundering Zeus, -- the glorious one whom
all the blessed throughout high Olympus reverence and honour even
as Zeus who delights in thunder.
7.2k
lifted up inside
eyes and mouth widely grinning
hands clap together
anticipation rising
going through the whole body
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 6:52 AM UTC
I
Among twenty snowy mountains,
The only moving thing
Was the eye of the black bird.
II
I was of three minds,
Like a tree
In which there are three blackbirds.
III
The blackbird whirled in the autumn winds.
It was a small part of the pantomime.
IV
A man and a woman
Are one.
A man and a woman and a blackbird
Are one.
V
I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendoes,
The blackbird whistling
Or just after.
VI
Icicles filled the long window
With barbaric glass.
The shadow of the blackbird
Crossed it, to and fro.
The mood
Traced in the shadow
An indecipherable cause.
VII
O thin men of Haddam,
Why do you imagine golden birds?
Do you not see how the blackbird
Walks around the feet
Of the women about you?
VIII
I know noble accents
And lucid, inescapable rhythms;
But I know, too,
That the blackbird is involved
In what I know.
IX
When the blackbird flew out of sight,
It marked the edge
Of one of many circles.
X
At the sight of blackbirds
Flying in a green light,
Even the bawds of euphony
Would cry out sharply.
XI
He rode over Connecticut
In a glass coach.
Once, a fear pierced him,
In that he mistook
The shadow of his equipage
For blackbirds.
XII
The river is moving.
The blackbird must be flying.
XIII
It was evening all afternoon.
It was snowing
And it was going to snow.
The blackbird sat
In the cedar-limbs.
6k
i.
Imagine, mine love
I'm on one knee;
ii.
Imagine mine love
No distance in-between;
iii.
Imagine mine love,
Thine glimmering
Wedding ring:
iv.
Imagine mine love
Preordainment's best
To bring;
v.
Imagine mine love
Angel's that wilt
Sing;
vi.
Imagine mine love
Just us two;
vii.
Imagine mine love
Making love upon new moon's;
viii.
Imagine mine love
Enthroned as mine muse;
ix.
Imagine mine love
Osculating that wilt soothe;
x.
Imagine mine love
Mine finger's stroke thy strand's;
xi.
Imagine mine love
On the sea of love we dance;
xii.
Imagine mine love
No world, nor worldly plan's;
xiii.
Imagine mine love
Toe's locked, buried neath' the sand;
xiv.
Imagine mine love
Hand held to hand in hand;
xv.
Imagine mine love
Thy head upon
Mine chest;
xvi.
Imagine mine love
The thought of nothingness;
xvii.
Imagine mine love
Mind free from pain and stress.
xviii.
Imagine mine love
Imagine mine love
This;
©Brandon Nagley
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( Filipino rose)
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 9:28 PM UTC
I
Among twenty snowy mountains,
The only moving thing
Was the eye of the blackbird.
II
I was of three minds,
Like a tree
In which there are three blackbirds.
III
The blackbird whirled in the autumn winds.
It was a small part of the pantomime.
IV
A man and a woman
Are one.
A man and a woman and a blackbird
Are one.
V
I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendoes,
The blackbird whistling
Or just after.
VI
Icicles filled the long window
With barbaric glass.
The shadow of the blackbird
Crossed it, to and fro.
The mood
Traced in the shadow
An indecipherable cause.
VII
O thin men of Haddam,
Why do you imagine golden birds?
Do you not see how the blackbird
Walks around the feet
Of the women about you?
VIII
I know noble accents
And lucid, inescapable rhythms;
But I know, too,
That the blackbird is involved
In what I know.
IX
When the blackbird flew out of sight,
It marked the edge
Of one of many circles.
X
At the sight of blackbirds
Flying in a green light,
Even the bawds of euphony
Would cry out sharply.
XI
He rode over Connecticut
In a glass coach.
Once, a fear pierced him,
In that he mistook
The shadow of his equipage
For blackbirds.
XII
The river is moving.
The blackbird must be flying.
XIII
It was evening all afternoon.
It was snowing
And it was going to snow.
The blackbird sat
In the cedar-limbs.
- Wallace Stevens (not me)
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 11:04 PM UTC
…These men are worth your tears:
You are not worth their merriment.
-Wilfred Owen, “Apologia Pro Poemate Meo”
When that loudmouth on the wireless machine
Alludes to Western Civilization
What does he mean? Paradise Lost? Probably not
Nor Saint Paul speaking on the Field of Mars
The Kalevala, Hagia Sophia
With its pendentives lifting up our prayers
Horatius fighting to defend his bridge
And Wilfred Owen dying bravely on his
Lord Tennyson and Idylls of the King
Chapultepec, Henry V, Becket
The paratroops at Arnhem, Saint Thomas More,
His King’s loyal servant, but God’s first
The Stray Dog poets of Saint Petersburg
The brave last stand of Roland at Roncesvalles
Lewis and Tolkien and glasses of beer
Montcalm and Wolfe on the Plains of Abraham
Hildegard von Bingen, Siegfried and the Rhine
Magna Carta, HMS Hood, the Thames
The Grove of Daphne, “The Old Rugged Cross”
Beatrix Potter and her little pet rabbit
El Cid, Anne Frank, John Keats, Saint Benedict
“I Have a Dream,” Dostoyevsky, and Greene
Viktor Frankl, Dag Hammarkskjold, and Proust
Good Chaucer’s naughty pilgrims telling tales
The Gettysburg Address, Willie and Joe
Stern Saint Augustine of North Africa
Wodehouse writing a jolly bit of fun
Saint Corbinian and Bavaria
The ancient glories of Byzantium
Pius XII contra the bombs and lies
The 602nd TD Battalion
Saint Joan, the Prado, and Robert Frost
And far, far more.
When that loudmouth on the wireless machine
Alludes to Western Civilization
What does he mean?
Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 4:06 PM UTC
they weren't wrong when they said
nothing lasts forever.
you promised me forever,
and left your empty promise at the bottom of the ocean
with the rest of the decaying memories from my head.
how gullible i was to think things would work out.
happiness doesn't come easy.
the hollow ache in the pit of my stomach will never go away.
these are just things we learn to accept in our lives and move on.
why do i still miss you?
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 10:03 PM UTC
I
I was walking through
the forest of life
when I saw in my path
a shade whose spectral form
blocked my way to the
sweet fruits that lay beyond.
II
“Who are you, shade?”
I asked, “Why do I find you
now, in my travels?”
The shade spoke not but
instead pointed down yonder path
and grinned a shade’s grin.
III
Where he pointed I could
see through the space between trees
a castle as black as night from
where it sat brooding on a high hill.
Instantly were the fruits
forgotten, so great my urge
to reach and enter this castle.
IV
When I looked again, the
shade had vanished
and I was alone once more.
Quickly I continued down
the path and towards my goal.
V
The way was long and
as I finally reached the hill
upon which the castle sat
night had begun to fall.
VI
As I looked up, my first thought
was that the castle had vanished
leaving me alone and lost
at the end of the path.
VII
When suddenly I saw a flame
burn from one of its
high windows. I realized
the castle was still there
but as deeply black as the
darkening sky above.
VIII
Soon stars were visible
and the contrast of the infinite
darkness of the castle against them
seemed as if a great black hole
had opened up, revealing
the never ending darkness
that lies beyond what is known.
IX
Up I climbed until I
came to its great gate
and with beating heart
did I gently push it open
and enter the courtyard.
X
In it stood a fountain,
now dry, and beyond that
the crimson door through
which I would gain access
to this mysterious keep.
XI
As I approached the door
I could read the inscription
written by its large metal knocker:
“Behind you lies what is known,
ahead lies the unknown. For what
is behind this door changes everything.”
XII
Slowly did I push the door
and it quickly gave in.
I passed the threshold and
my eyes adjusted to the
the darkness inside.
XIII
As my vision cleared I
saw what lay in the middle of the room:
a pen and a blank piece of paper.
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 4:06 AM UTC
homage to Wallace Stevens
I - My Focus pistoned up the rise
and all at once, the Rockies -
silhouettes against the western skies.
II - On the road to Boulder
a pleated ridge crawls north
like a blue whale bound for the open sea.
III - Appalachia's intoxicating verdure
never fails to induce in us
a certain mellowing of the spirit.
IV - You 'conquered' my North Face, did you?
Why, I should skewer your arrogant ***
like a holiday lamb culled for the sacrifice.
V - Lewis and Clark looked west
surveying the Bitterroots' frigid expanse.
Farewell Northwest Passage!
VI - Pueblos stranded on Enchanted Mesa -
their rock stairs crumbled to the valley floor.
Should they dive to their death or starve?
VII –Touristas at Big Bend Park
wonder at its pastel window -
its romantic haze a toxic gift
from stacks across the Rio Grande.
VIII – The once mighty Ozarks humbled by age,
dwarfed by the youthful Rockies.
Listen up, youngsters, your time will come!
IX – We de-bussed to seize the dolomites
with our hyper-kinetic shutters.
Pausing for a draught of Italian air,
I felt the whack of an Alpine snowball.
X - Before Oregon's crater had its lake,
the mountain scorched the village below.
Today its azure waters preach only serenity.
XI – Looking down from Shissler peak
to the golden meadow below
where the elk herd calmly grazes.
XII – Do mists veil the Blue Ridge Mountains
or are there really no mountains at all -
only clouds decked out in mountain attire?
XIII – They say that peaks more steep than Everest
soar up from the ocean floor.
Who will scale their sunken heights?
May 28, 2010 – Boulder Colorado
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 12:18 AM UTC
(Earl Jane Nagley)
i.
My sweetest king,
I am here waiting for you,
I clasp on to our love.
ii.
All my life I’ve been searching for you,
Now I have you in my arms,
I’ll never let you go.
iii.
Don’t be weary my love,
Let my love kiss your fears away,
My warmth as assurance I’ll stay.
iv.
My eyes wander in the skies,
As my heart shouts your name,
I’ll wait, I knew we’ll meet.
v.
Oh my darling,
No matter how long it will take,
I’ll take all risk, just to be with you.
vi.
So soon my soulmate,
Our patience in love will be rewarded,
We’ll be together, forever.
vii.
When we’ll meet,
I’ll enclose you tight,
Nothing will ever take us apart.
(Brandon Nagley)
viii.
Mine saccharine select
I'm here mine pet;
I grasp thy breath.
ix.
All mine day's
I've groaned in pains;
Now thou art mine, a meteoric grace.
x.
Now thou art here
Mine eye's hath dried, I'm over mine tear's;
For comfort hast given me a home in thee.
xi.
O' love, lover, queen
O' verily we shalt, we shalt meet;
Whilst conquering the demonic beast's, with armour divinity.
xii.
If it takes a thousand light year's
Please knoweth mine soul, mine spirit is near;
As tis eternity I wilt be with thou.
xiii.
On the many moon's, in a kingdom high room,
Where there's no need for a tomb, nor the news, no deathly hellion there, Mocker's nor baboon's; just ourn swoon.
xiv.
We shalt meeteth
O' we shalt meeteth;
And when we do, may the heaven's open and the ark showeth it's gold, mine queen Jane, mine soul.
©Brandon Nagley \Earl Jane Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry \Hari-Reyna incorporated
Oct 25, 2015
Oct 25, 2015 at 8:09 AM UTC
I
Fall has started.
Students pile into their desks
as teacher begins the lesson,
with 32 apple gifts in her bottom drawer.
II
Wake up in the morning.
Walk down the stairs.
Grab an apple
among the bananas and
pears.
III
Sitting under a tree, dreaming,
disturbed by a falling fruit.
The apple that knocked your head.
The apple that discovered gravity.
IV
Lovers entwined in each others’ arms.
“I love you,” says one.
“I love you more,” says the other.
“You are the apple of my eye,” says the first.
The second smiles.
V
Kids running rampant,
touch football and tag.
Trading card games while eating lunch.
Lunch? PB&J;, a banana,
and Mott’s Apple Juice.
VI
One of the largest computer companies: Apple.
The Beatles music company: Apple.
Apples are the foundation of everything.
Makes sense,
right?
VII
The Disney hotel room was tan all over.
Even my 6-year-old brain remembers that.
The green sheen of the apple skin was
more appealing than the tan, for sure.
VIII
Apples, apple juice, applesauce, apple pie,
apple cider, candied apples, Redd’s apple ale.
So many choices.
So many variations.
None quite as good as the first one listed.
IX
The red on her lips matched the fruit’s skin
as she bit down into the juicy apple.
Within minutes she was down to its core
and mine.
X
Apply applesauce to the aforementioned area.
This isn’t a game, HeadOn.
It is just alliteration.
XI
The stanzas in this poem
couldn’t be more different
than apples and oranges.
Gotcha.
XII
Mi corazón se dispara a mi garganta
cuando yo te veo. Siento mi nuez de Adán se endurece.
Tus labios, rojos como manzanas,
se ven tan dulces.
Te extraño, Red. Y, finalmente,
te amo.
XIII
This poem brought to you by:
Mott’s Apple Juice, Redd’s Apple Ale,
The Beatles’ Apple, Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak’s Apple
Sir Isaac Newton’s Apple, Adam’s Apple,
God’s apple, my apple, your apple, he/she/it apple,
It apple bit the apple.
The core of this poem, much like the core of an apple.
Seeds throughout.
This poem brought to you by:
My 15” Macbook Pro Apple laptop.
And the author, moi. From my heart. From my brain.
This poem brought to you by apples.
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 3:02 PM UTC
I
That fawn-skin-dappled hair of hers,
And the blue eye
Dear and dewy,
And that infantine fresh air of hers!
II
To think men cannot take you, Sweet,
And enfold you,
Ay, and hold you,
And so keep you what they make you, Sweet!
III
You like us for a glance, you know—
For a word’s sake,
Or a sword’s sake,
All’s the same, whate’er the chance, you know.
IV
And in turn we make you ours, we say—
You and youth too,
Eyes and mouth too,
All the face composed of flowers, we say.
V
All’s our own, to make the most of, Sweet—
Sing and say for,
Watch and pray for,
Keep a secret or go boast of, Sweet.
VI
But for loving, why, you would not, Sweet,
Though we prayed you,
Paid you, brayed you
In a mortar—for you could not, Sweet.
VII
So, we leave the sweet face fondly there—
Be its beauty
Its sole duty!
Let all hope of grace beyond, lie there!
VIII
And while the face lies quiet there,
Who shall wonder
That I ponder
A conclusion? I will try it there.
IX
As,—why must one, for the love forgone,
Scout mere liking?
Thunder-striking
Earth,—the heaven, we looked above for, gone!
X
Why with beauty, needs there money be—
Love with liking?
Crush the fly-king
In his gauze, because no honey bee?
XI
May not liking be so simple-sweet,
If love grew there
’Twould undo there
All that breaks the cheek to dimples sweet?
XII
Is the creature too imperfect, say?
Would you mend it
And so end it?
Since not all addition perfects aye!
XIII
Or is it of its kind, perhaps,
Just perfection—
Whence, rejection
Of a grace not to its mind, perhaps?
XIV
Shall we burn up, tread that face at once
Into tinder
And so hinder
Sparks from kindling all the place at once?
XV
Or else kiss away one’s soul on her?
Your love-fancies!—
A sick man sees
Truer, when his hot eyes roll on her!
XVI
Thus the craftsman thinks to grace the rose,—
Plucks a mould-flower
For his gold flower,
Uses fine things that efface the rose.
XVII
Rosy rubies make its cup more rose,
Precious metals
Ape the petals,—
Last, some old king locks it up, morose!
XVIII
Then, how grace a rose? I know a way!
Leave it rather.
Must you gather?
Smell, kiss, wear it—at last, throw away!
2.8k
XII
Indeed this very love which is my boast,
And which, when rising up from breast to brow,
Doth crown me with a ruby large enow
To draw men’s eyes and prove the inner cost,—
This love even, all my worth, to the uttermost,
I should not love withal, unless that thou
Hadst set me an example, shown me how,
When first thine earnest eyes with mine were crossed,
And love called love. And thus, I cannot speak
Of love even, as a good thing of my own:
Thy soul hath snatched up mine all faint and weak,
And placed it by thee on a golden throne,—
And that I love (O soul, we must be meek!)
Is by thee only, whom I love alone.
2.6k
The people in this place
—what are they doing here?
They come and go like actors in
a play whose star will very soon
begin to show himself,
although we have no clue
which one he is, for they‘re
all so like tin apostle
spoons, not truly separate beings
but figurines, a passive foil
to the inscrutible hero.
Is that him, that thin
pale figure who just now
is fleeing the inquisitive
crowd? But in a while he too
is slowly reingested, merged
into that far-off world
we can no longer be in.
The people in this place—what are they do-
ing here? They come and go like actors in
a play whose star will very soon begin
to show himself, although we have no clue
which one he is, for they‘re all so like tin
apostle spoons, not truly separate beings
but figurines, a passive foil to the in-
scrutible hero. Is that him, that thin
pale figure who just now is fleeing the in-
quisitive crowd? But in a while he too
is slowly reingested, merged into
that far-off world we can no longer be in.
The people in this place—what are
they doing here? They come and go
like actors in a play whose star
will very soon begin to show
himself, although we have no clue
which one he is, for they‘re all so
like tin apostle spoons, not tru-
ly separate beings but figurines,
a passive foil to the inscru-
tible hero. Is that him, that thin
pale figure who just now is fleeing
the inquisitive crowd? But in
a while he too is slowly rein-
gested, merged into that far-
off world we can no longer be in.
The people in this place—what are they doing here?
They come and go like actors in a play whose star
will very soon begin to show himself, although
we have no clue which one he is, for they‘re all so
like tin apostle spoons, not truly separate beings
but figurines, a passive foil to the inscru-
tible hero. Is that him, that thin pale figure who
just now is fleeing the inquisitive crowd? But in
a while he too is slowly reingested, merged
into that far-off world we can no longer be in.
Mar 14, 2012
Mar 14, 2012 at 5:42 PM UTC
i
I kind of knew
in the back
of my mind
that there was more
to come
ii
An urgent message
rings through the streets
"The Romans are at the gates!"
As soon as the news
reaches the house
giant catapults
start to pound the roofs
with rocks.
iii
Hoovering out
the cat hairs
scrubbing out
the loo
iv
The woman put her sad moon-face in
at the window of the car.
"You be good," she said.
"Yes, Momma," they said.
She slung her purse over her shoulder
and walked away.
v
Being James Bond
in miniature
is way cooler
than being a wizard.
vi
The park grew wild
and where we played football
the grass was torn
by the bombs
vii
At the time
everyone thought
that Elizabeth planned
to capture Mary.
viii
I'm so excited
I could burst
It's this cracking idea I've had
It's been worrying me away for weeks
It all started,
you see,
When I was showing some of my students
Where Greenland was on a map.
iix
Unbelievably,
the brown square
is identical
to the yellow square
ix
All us friends and relatives
are told to sit at the back
mind coats and bags
knowing our way
in the dark
x
Mum glared at Dad.
How many times
do I have to tell you
that the twins are called
James and Rebecca;
not Cheese and Tomato?
Granny shook
her head.
xi
The hard work
hopefully won't end
and we will stick together
no matter what
xii
Experimental
native style
knows
no boundaries
xiii
The fire detectors
are fitted
at regular intervals
along the tunnel
xiv
As an adult
Tarzan is once again
faced with the question of belonging
when he first meets humans
and discovers creatures
who look like himself.
xv
My heart misses a beat.
The girls have seen me
in my bikini.
They all gather around
looking and laughing at the sight.
How embarrassing!
It is a long way down.
Jan 11, 2012
Jan 11, 2012 at 11:34 AM UTC
i.
i am not angry,
and i won't be.
how someone could stay mad at you
is a ******* mystery to me.
ii.
maybe
you were right,
and not everyone
is an enigma.
but i believe that you are.
i believe that we are.
iii.
i still have all your letters.
iv.
speaking of letters,
i've tried writing you one before.
but words and humans
do not often cooperate.
v.
i hope you start a new york jar again.
you won't.
but i hope you do.
vi.
i will not forget you.
i will think of you,
and i hope you think of me, too,
on those days when the sky is a shade too dark
and your soul feels a little bit too empty.
vii.
i know now
that i do not
have to do anything.
viii.
i love you.
past.
present.
future tense.
i love you.
and i know you love me.
ix.
i hope you see this.
someday.
x.
shakespeare once said
that life's but a walking shadow.
but i believe --
i know --
that you are destined for something greater.
you
are going to make it.
xi.
if, by some miracle,
i can find a word,
a song,
a quote,
anything,
to describe you,
to do you justice,
i will let you know.
i hope you'll do the same for me.
xii.
i'm sorry.
for everything.
i wish it didn't end up this way,
but it did,
and so i won't waste time complaining.
but truly,
i am sorry.
xiii.
someday
you'll find happiness.
xiv.
and maybe,
if the stars align,
and the water's calm,
someday you'll find me, too.
(a.m.)
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 6:55 PM UTC
The people in this place
—what are they doing here?
They come and go like actors in
a play whose star will very soon
begin to show himself,
although we have no clue
which one he is, for they‘re
all so like tin apostle
spoons, not truly separate beings
but figurines, a passive foil
to the inscrutible hero.
Is that him, that thin
pale figure who just now
is fleeing the inquisitive
crowd? But in a while he too
is slowly reingested, merged
into that far-off world
we can no longer be in.
The people in this place—what are they do-
ing here? They come and go like actors in
a play whose star will very soon begin
to show himself, although we have no clue
which one he is, for they‘re all so like tin
apostle spoons, not truly separate beings
but figurines, a passive foil to the in-
scrutible hero. Is that him, that thin
pale figure who just now is fleeing the in-
quisitive crowd? But in a while he too
is slowly reingested, merged into
that far-off world we can no longer be in.
The people in this place—what are
they doing here? They come and go
like actors in a play whose star
will very soon begin to show
himself, although we have no clue
which one he is, for they‘re all so
like tin apostle spoons, not tru-
ly separate beings but figurines,
a passive foil to the inscru-
tible hero. Is that him, that thin
pale figure who just now is fleeing
the inquisitive crowd? But in
a while he too is slowly rein-
gested, merged into that far-
off world we can no longer be in.
The people in this place—what are they doing here?
They come and go like actors in a play whose star
will very soon begin to show himself, although
we have no clue which one he is, for they‘re all so
like tin apostle spoons, not truly separate beings
but figurines, a passive foil to the inscru-
tible hero. Is that him, that thin pale figure who
just now is fleeing the inquisitive crowd? But in
a while he too is slowly reingested, merged
into that far-off world we can no longer be in.
Mar 14, 2012
Mar 14, 2012 at 5:42 PM UTC
I
In a garden, full of grace,
bouncing in the sunlight,
reflecting our human spirit.
II
It smells like this:
My mom tells me
that it keeps the bugs away.
And the bunnies will stay away from the tomatos.
III
Put into corners of 4 like
a box, a prison.
IV
Orange and yellow are colors,
the next, says the spectrum,
is green.
V
The springtime brings me raindrops
and warm soup by the window,
where I watch
and the snow melts
VI
I live in the city, a place of men and cars.
I do not get to see the leaves and the flowers.
VII
There are people that live in
Forests. They live off of wood smoke
and rain smells
VIII
Friends hold close to eachother
in cold water.
IX
Almost, by the end, it falls apart
into particles and black dust.
X
Each of us is held together by a tiny ribbon,
we stay in a circle.
XI
Fallen in mud and forgotten, dark
black sky, grey air from the streetlight
across the chain-link fence.
XII
The stop sign one block before I am home,
almost there,
close enough to practically be there,
but not enough to feel it
XIII
Regret,
an ending that lasts infinity.
The smile you can never really reach,
at the end of the long tunnel.
Mar 20, 2010
Mar 20, 2010 at 9:34 PM UTC
I.
My first in first grade
I carved your name in my desk
I hope it's still there.
II.
Made class valentines
Required for everyone
But mine was special.
III.
You begged the teacher
To sit by me on the bus
With a great big smile.
IV.
The first who wanted
To take me out for dinner
But it was a joke.
V.
Dedicated song
I can no longer hear it
Without thought of you.
VI.
You never said it
But your eyes always told me
You had wanted more.
VII.
You dated my friend
And I never told you how
Much I adored you.
VIII.
Playful like a child
But mature like an adult
So interesting.
IX.
You asked me to prom
Yellow flowers for friendship
That's all I wanted.
X.
You said you loved me
I loved you like a brother
It would never work.
XI.
You swore up and down
You had changed for the better
You didn't, first kiss.
XII.
Late walks on campus
Never saw me with makeup
We were so natural.
XIII.
Eyes found each other
"I don't forget pretty girls"
you whispered to me.
XIV.
I fell quickly, hard
But you still loved someone else
A girl with my name.
XV.
A friend of a friend
Texting non-stop everyday
Going nowhere fast.
XVI.
Liked me from the start
Bruised and broken, I do care
But not in that way.
XVII.
The piano man
It was all right but timing
One that got away.
XVIII.
We tried to fight time
Thinking that you were ready
Left us with heartache.
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 4:14 PM UTC
Mine,
Clouds gather ominously. The creak of a decrepit windmill cuts through the howling wind. Still, crickets are chirping, until the rain starts. I stand at the screen door, watching the clouds swirl and the windmill turn slowly, listening to the light patter of rain changing into a pounding downpour, feeling the angry wind lashing me with spray, thinking that this could only be better with your chin on my shoulder and your arms around my waist, keeping me warm through the storm.
Yours.
Jun 22, 2010
Jun 22, 2010 at 6:20 PM UTC
And the age ended, and the last deliverer died.
In bed, grown idle and unhappy; they were safe:
The sudden shadow of the giant's enormous calf
Would fall no more at dusk across the lawn outside.
They slept in peace: in marshes here and there no doubt
A sterile dragon lingered to a natural death,
But in a year the spoor had vanished from the heath;
The kobold's knocking in the mountain petered out.
Only the sculptors and the poets were half sad,
And the pert retinue from the magician's house
Grumbled and went elsewhere. The vanished powers were glad
To be invisible and free: without remorse
Struck down the sons who strayed their course,
And ravished the daughters, and drove the fathers mad.
2.2k
The people in this place
—what are they doing here?
They come and go like actors in
a play whose star will very soon
begin to show himself,
although we have no clue
which one he is, for they‘re
all so like tin apostle
spoons, not truly separate beings
but figurines, a passive foil
to the inscrutible hero.
Is that him, that thin
pale figure who just now
is fleeing the inquisitive
crowd? But in a while he too
is slowly reingested, merged
into that far-off world
we can no longer be in.
The people in this place—what are they do-
ing here? They come and go like actors in
a play whose star will very soon begin
to show himself, although we have no clue
which one he is, for they‘re all so like tin
apostle spoons, not truly separate beings
but figurines, a passive foil to the in-
scrutible hero. Is that him, that thin
pale figure who just now is fleeing the in-
quisitive crowd? But in a while he too
is slowly reingested, merged into
that far-off world we can no longer be in.
The people in this place—what are
they doing here? They come and go
like actors in a play whose star
will very soon begin to show
himself, although we have no clue
which one he is, for they‘re all so
like tin apostle spoons, not tru-
ly separate beings but figurines,
a passive foil to the inscru-
tible hero. Is that him, that thin
pale figure who just now is fleeing
the inquisitive crowd? But in
a while he too is slowly rein-
gested, merged into that far-
off world we can no longer be in.
The people in this place—what are they doing here?
They come and go like actors in a play whose star
will very soon begin to show himself, although
we have no clue which one he is, for they‘re all so
like tin apostle spoons, not truly separate beings
but figurines, a passive foil to the inscru-
tible hero. Is that him, that thin pale figure who
just now is fleeing the inquisitive crowd? But in
a while he too is slowly reingested, merged
into that far-off world we can no longer be in.
Mar 14, 2012
Mar 14, 2012 at 5:42 PM UTC
I.
Adieu, New-England’s smiling meads,
Adieu, the flow’ry plain:
I leave thine op’ning charms, O spring,
And tempt the roaring main.
II.
In vain for me the flow’rets rise,
And boast their gaudy pride,
While here beneath the northern skies
I mourn for health deny’d.
III.
Celestial maid of rosy hue,
O let me feel thy reign!
I languish till thy face I view,
Thy vanish’d joys regain.
IV.
Susanna mourns, nor can I bear
To see the crystal show’r,
Or mark the tender falling tear
At sad departure’s hour;
V.
Not unregarding can I see
Her soul with grief opprest:
But let no sighs, no groans for me,
Steal from her pensive breast.
VI.
In vain the feather’d warblers sing,
In vain the garden blooms,
And on the ***** of the spring
Breathes out her sweet perfumes.
VII.
While for Britannia’s distant shore
We sweep the liquid plain,
And with astonish’d eyes explore
The wide-extended main.
VIII.
Lo! Health appears! celestial dame!
Complacent and serene,
With Hebe’s mantle o’er her Frame,
With soul-delighting mein.
IX.
To mark the vale where London lies
With misty vapours crown’d,
Which cloud Aurora’s thousand dyes,
And veil her charms around.
X.
Why, Phoebus, moves thy car so slow?
So slow thy rising ray?
Give us the famous town to view,
Thou glorious king of day!
XI.
For thee, Britannia, I resign
New-England’s smiling fields;
To view again her charms divine,
What joy the prospect yields!
XII.
But thou! Temptation hence away,
With all thy fatal train,
Nor once ****** my soul away,
By thine enchanting strain.
XIII.
Thrice happy they, whose heav’nly shield
Secures their souls from harms,
And fell Temptation on the field
Of all its pow’r disarms!
2.1k