Best Reemerge Poems
Declared an outcast,
shunned by society -
but she's the same
as you and me,
but You can't see her pain
hidden behind her coy smile.
You can't wipe away those tears,
invisible to your shallow eyes.
In fear she stares at the pavement,
but she can see you stare.
She can hear your giggles.
She can feel your judgement.
Her crime?
Only that she is different.
Freak is not her name,
but you shout it, roaring like a lion.
To you she looks peculiar and
you wonder why she behaves strange.
Her monotone words are a result of your
ignorant mind that has lead to her
indulging in esoteric tendencies.
She may seem socially awkward,
but she means no harm.
She just wants to belong -
for one soul to understand.
There is no eye contact,
because living can hurt.
Misplaced in an oblivious world,
the skies may look bright to you and me,
but all she recognises is the darkness.
The soul is deep like an ocean,
but most only see the surface.
Only a few dare to venture to the bottom -
where most drown.
Only the strong reemerge.
The Silent One
Simple Musings
24 October 2017
She That Rivaled The Glowing Moon
Thy *hyacinth* hair upon white shoulders laid bare
thy face, mirror of love in heavenly skies.
The miracle of thy body, so sweet and fair
its soft innocence, destroyer of worldly lies.
Walking behind thee, in steps where an angel trod
among meadows, flowering in moonbeams there cast.
Must be a heaven for thou art proof of a God
that giveth to mankind a beauty that shall last.
Thy touch, ecstasies that rival paradise
ravishing smile, cool breeze blowing on a hot beach.
In all the universe only thee will suffice
to heal my aching soul and my heart, true love teach.
Thou art my *Irene*, that I drink of thy calm!
Blessed am I, to be soothed by thy kiss balm.
R.J. Lindley
June 26th, 1989
Poem Syllable Counter Results
Syllables Per Line: 12 12 12 12 0 12 12 12 12 0 12 12 12 12 0 12 12
Total # Syllables: 168
Total # Lines: 17 (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically: N/A
Total # Words: 122
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1. "hyacinth"- Luxuriant and curling
2. "Irene"- According the Greek myth, the goddess of peace
3. ****" balm"****
Home British & World English balm
Definition of balm in English:
balm
noun
1 A fragrant cream or liquid used to heal or soothe the skin:
‘a skin balm for use after shaving’
**** 1.1 Something that has a soothing or restorative effect:****
‘the murmur of the water can provide balm for troubled spirits’
2A tree which yields a fragrant resinous substance, especially one used in medicine.
? balm of Gilead
2.1[mass noun] The resinous substance yielded by a balm.
3[mass noun] A bushy herb of the mint family, with leaves smelling and tasting of lemon.
3.1 Used in names of other aromatic herbs of the mint family, e.g. bee balm.
Origin
Middle English (in the sense ‘preparation for embalming, fragrant resinous substance’): from Old French basme, from Latin balsamum (see balsam).
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Note- I had her but my mad wild streak( I was 18 years old) drove her away..
She saw something in me that back then (1973), that could not stay..
Only many decades later, could it reemerge to remain and slay my demons....
Once there was a tennis player*
From a town in Spain.
Ever since he started winning,
Clay was his domain.
As he rose up through the ranks
(He's number 1 today),
Fans would clamor for a glimpse
Of glory on display.
Though injuries and circumstance
Have sometimes kept him down,
He always seems to reemerge
To claim an Open crown.
Today he did exactly that
By managing to banish
His opponents at the French,
Numero once,** in the Spanish.
* Rafael Nadal, who just won his 11th French Open
** pronounced with 2 syllables
Wings too wet to fly, he plucks 32 strands of rain,
singing songs of all the colors the storm will never stain.
Far below his holy robes huddle humble wrens
who fluff their feathers anxiously and wait for sky again.
Uncommon skill imbues his hands with unearthly grace
as if he played with unknown notes that man could never ape.
Little by little, drop by drop, the song begins to dry
and all the colors reemerge and all the colors fly.
June 23 2018
Slaves to Perception….
Perception is influenced by probability judgments formed on the basis of earlier actions performed in similar situations
And I think I know
As much as I know of a triangle and breathed in the number three, all of this unto me all of this unto me.
If the premise was true the conclusion was true,
But how would I know the conclusive evidence: that product which is truth when the addends divulged were false, and the addends are always false as truths evolve and reemerge as new philosophies…
And Even as a poet I have learned from a defamed philologist that words get in the way…
The sum of it all is out there somewhere in the ether… floating aloft in a grey heather or the black vastness of space
Aloft a mist or rather it is a mystery
just
JUST clanking, ringing along in eternity with all those other eternal truths just beyond my knowing…
I derived a conclusion, intuited from a premise… like a hound to a fox…yet red herrings abound when you’re around… and I chase logical fallacies and grab kite’s strings…that pull me along with the rhythm the beat of your pulse,
If the woman is sick she will vomit,
If she vomited, she was poisoned.
In similar situations, the premises are all smoke and mirrors and the looking glass no clearer through the dregs of Domain Romanee Conti products…I saw your one eye peer at me…sizing me up outwitting me poking jest at love: that tomfoolery.
And simple biological permutations of something that renders itself as love is what you seek and what I know to be the opinion of each is different for all the same reality. If we assign meaning in our own minds to each act--an action of reality-- Why then would it matter to engage? To indulge and assign meaning and perception to anything? That simply enslaves us all.
Stay focused as an icon makes its surge
upon the stage as self-contained, assured.
I weigh it 'gainst a candle who's matured.
While tapers toil all night and scents converge,
the pooh-bah is about to reemerge.
The fragrance fine, but pooh-bahs can not rest
'cause candles never argue - who's the best?
True flames fulfill their course throughout a scourge
of dark and damp. No ploy have they to purge
a faint and feeble, fellow wick who wanes.
The grudging pooh-bahs' narcissistic brain
rebels at such an unpretentious urge.
The pooh-bah makes his plea, a drooling dirge -
"Me first," "Pick me," "No, I'm the one you want."
Note, candles speak with tongues quite nonchalant
and as they do their melting tapers merge.
Author's Notes:
The name of the haughty character Pooh-Bah in Gilbert and Sullivan's The Mikado (1885)
Last roar of the feline, snarling frigid and grim,
Bright colors in closets reemerge, crisp and trim.
Indulge in some corned beef, a mug of green beer,
The diamond gets busy for the grand game is here.
The swallows arrive once again, don't you fret,
If he makes this foul shot, the Final Four's set!
But before you begin the next month with your fibs,
Be aware of that knife they might stick in your ribs!
The clock never stops, time never stands still;
A girl in a train station shudders with a chill,
Waiting on delusions, waiting on a train,
Waiting for old aches to reemerge again.
She’s holding her breath and counting heartbeats,
She’s thinking of long gone sun-kissed streets,
Waiting on a thunder, waiting for the rain,
Waiting for a whisper and words that never came.
The stars gazed upon her, she gazed back at them,
She started to curse, to cry, to condemn,
Waiting for goodbyes, waiting for hello,
Waiting for something, but she didn’t know what for.
Waiting on hope, waiting in vain,
And yet she kept waiting until she went insane.
Days and nights passed, the train went away
And still in the train station, a girl waits today.
The catapillar and I shared an impossible dream.
We where bored of a life so mundane and routine.
It was time to say goodbye to our redundant fears.
It was time to let go of memories of drabier years.
No more patience was left for drying crocodile tears.
We did not need anyone's validation to begin our transformation.
We took a peak inside to learn ourselves from within. What we discovered was our beauty goes deeper what's seen on our skin.
We began to believe in ourselves, and then a miracle happened.
While sealed safe inside our safe self healing cocoon we discovered how bright our true colors could shine.
They where there all along, we just needed reminded. We needed some time.
Dreams do come true, just ask the catapillar and I.
We reemerge into the world and take to the sky with the beauty and grace of a butterfly.
Barren laid the roads
At the passing cars and autos I stare
Wishing it was you, seen everyday
But not since last week
An hour has passed since I last saw a bus
Stops crowding all waiting for you
Waiting for your horns blare
But the roads are barren still
Cars and bikes racing past me
I, wishing it was you
On a strike you guys went
Though good for you
Oh! So bad for me
Cause barren laid the roads without your blaring horn
Miss you in every aspect, as I stand on the platform
No conductors yelling at every stop
Miss you and your so reckless, yet safe driving
Never knew that we had this connection
Now that I miss it, I know now how treasured
Was our five second ticket exchange
Invisible you weren’t to me
Filled with Lorries and cars, yet barren they lay
Miss you passing up and down the narrow center,
Passing tickets back and forth
Waiting for our sweet seconds to reemerge once again
Funny how I miss you scolding me
As I sit there dreaming
Listening to music, head buried in my phone
Not realizing my stop, then halfway along
I ask you to stop, grudgingly you do
But still you do.
Oh! I want you to be happy
Believe me I do
But so selfish I am
I beg this of you
Don’t ever go on a strike again
Because I can’t bear to see the roads barren again
I danced with death for a moment,
Dressed in a sheik metallic guise.
In the absence of life's petty presence,
Death spoke freely for a while.
In daily struggles, humanity forgets
The joke of life in his mirthless glee;
Bending low, with ragged breath,
Placing on pedestals man's fecal dreams,
Life yells, "Weep for the death of your fathers"
Death whispers, " Be glad,
They no longer struggle to navigate mirages' seas."
As death approached, he whispered to me,
"I will tell you of your falling
And the dispossession of my seed
Remove the blindfold from your eyes
I will show you the nation of the bloody sea.
"Life's children are the offspring of greed,
White is their traitorous color
The vacuous absence of all life's hue.
Abscise, corruptor of creation,
Destruction is their vice,
Their sport is the murder of Twilight's Children
Stumbling, drunk on the blood of mutilated nations.
"The seed of life finds no rest,
Pushed by an unseen chain-gang
Never full-- the need for destroying
Kill till they are killed by their zest
Yet they find no rest in their mutated cycle
Death does not embrace them in peace
They are cast out to reemerge as the rancid seed."
I stumbled out from metal's jaws
Grasping the air I breathed
I Begged death to stop, but with a smile he said,
"My silence may soon be complete,
Listen to my warning for the moment
Judge if my visions deceive
For your path may lock you out eternally.
"My teaching you have heard and understood
Life's path would ensnare your spirited search
Though your heart is held by Twilight's Children
Your hands are bloody destroying my seed."
I know you say that it takes time
But time just ain’t healing mine
Trauma
but I would be fine
If the water didn’t swallow me whole
Feeling the Demons pull
Dragged beneath
To the coral wreath
Till the Demons devour me and seeth
Into my soul
Consuming my own body
‘Till nothing much is left of me
But A dreaded, feral, monstrous beast
‘Cause They. won’t. let. Go.
When I reemerge-
what you see
How can We be sure that it’s me?
I wish I knew who I was meant to be
A long time ago.
I feel the chaos stir within
The Devil wants my soul to sink
I swim
Taking chances on a whim
I don’t know…
Falling
Into the deep
Drowning
In mine own beliefs,
Calling
Calling to the sea
Wishing
I could go Home.
We are told to love,
Even though love broke us,
We are told to be kind,
When our own left us depleted,
We are told to be selfless,
Then we end up with nothing,
What are we suppose to do,
When everything instilled in you,
Is every reason you've been destroyed,
You can't even recognize your face,
Do we reemerge to what was taught to be wrong,
Or continue on and damaging ourselves
In the midst of hubbub, at the verge of one hectic June,
I see myriad diamond stars, and ruby sun under the moon,
As viewed from a planet of jade green with sapphire blue,
Covered by pearly clouds, vanishing in moon's silver hue!
But I am only dreaming, for it is the middle of the day,
And from sunshine I have wandered, into night's doorway,
And the golden sun has set behind the scenes in my mind,
Only to reemerge as I wake, leaving night's riches behind!
After nearly a year
Hamas released four October 7th hostages.
Unfortunately, they're all deceased.
Tossed away, like ballast, from a sinking beast.
Will they be mentioned at the DNC?
Will they be remembered by anybody?
Does anyone still remember October 7th
September 11th
the ghettos of Warsaw
or the ovens of Hitler and Eichmann.
We have forgotten!
Trojan camels have entered through the globalist gate.
Purely in the name of a new world disorder of calamity.
The elitist ribbon and perfume it as tolerance and diversity.
{Diversity only works when hate is taken out of the equation.
Tolerance is feasible but only in the wake of a common vision.}
However, large numbers of participants are cross-eyed or blinded.
There is an unhealthy growing tolerance for terror.
Little empathy for the innocent and the common man.
The people have turned into sheep too frightened to speak.
Herded by their masters into endless shadows.
From which they'll not reemerge from their sleep.
We have forgotten, but we'll soon be reminded...
by a maelstrom of mayhem and violence.