Feigns Poems

heartspeak

tho' I am but the sparrow's twining strains
      the palette and the pen of whisp'ring souls
         I'm sweeter still if dashed upon the shoals
   or bleeding from the hem of day's remains
tho' I may weep from all a scoundrel feigns
      for what each soldier's dying breath extols
         it's grander even morning's meadow rolls
   as spindrift tossed upon the grassy plains
oh I am found the coursing thru all things
      as warm within your veins, as sunset's sky
         my constancy to love and swoon and hate
   to stir in hopes or see what passion brings
so guard me close or open me and cry ...
      I'll bound and thrum and patiently ... await.





Copyright © 2020 Gregory Richard Barden ( rewrite )

Assisted Stars

Stars watch me in my sleep
Sleep in the endless deep
Deep dark swallows my soul
Soul beaten in the dark so full
Full of nothing, just a simple void
Void wins, my light destroyed
Destroyed light but not my wisdom
Wisdom gives greater clarity than any other system
System gone, but not my understanding
Understanding now, void has no standing
Standing with no body, lack of power
Power is mine at the most important hour
Hour past, now the stars are gone
Gone no longer the day has been drawn
Drawn to obscure the night that still remains
Remains but only the body that a spirit feigns
Feigns life and power that never existed
Existed only the watching stars that, for me, assisted

A better half when turned bitter

For long who’d been my better half
Has now become my bitter half--
Bitter, my autumns sing
Of fantasies of spring…
To bull has blown a benign calf
Who feels (or feigns) she’s tired 
Ever since I retired,
To smirk has turned a vibrant laugh.
_________________________ 
Happenings | 24.07.2025 | humour, life, wife
Note: She has, I would like to feel, nothing against my poetic journey as such, but that my poems fetch not a penny.

orchid

oh, please ...
do not pay minutes
to the bandit called Perfection -
a more enigmatic siren does not now exist
still, even in her most beguiling accomplishment
she feigns not a breath of your
uncommon grace

oh, verily ...
she is immaculate, pure
but no human soul that breathes
(or any that rest in earth, ages hence)
did e'er settle gaze on her illusory countenance
or chance to catch a hint of her
blossom on the breeze

oh, pray ...
be content in all you are
your semblance catches breaths
and the uncommon aspect of your heart -
the flaws and frailties that are uniquely thine
bloom subtle and splendid in the
rare orchid others see

oh, hearken ...
do you discern the folly?
precious moments wasted in endless pursuit of
a phantom, fair
while you possess all that is real and tangible 
you are the colorful, unique, diverse and
elegant ENVY of ...
perfection.


( ORCHID = One Rare Creation - Human, Inimitable, Divine )

Savagery Sings

The world alone is making me smile
left to marvel at its natural wonder.
Glowing out loud is always in style. 

On a level high above thunder,
I fly on the sunshine in my veins.
My label’s that mach five number.

When caged by what society feigns,
many forget the important things.
If you fumble? Innate wisdom remains. 

Wasted on the fury of wild wings,
 with abandon their savagery sings.

breaking free

habit routines to which we’re bound
shape the emotes by mind expressed
as we tip toe on holy ground
our uniqueness therein impressed

breath by breath, all moments entwined
life is but music we’ve composed
cry to God that truth be divined
heartbeats against love juxtaposed

in the gap between two thought trains
void of emptiness energised
there being no ego that feigns
truth of our Self is realised

silence invokes bliss magnetism ~
illumining mind-body prism

THE PAINTED GRIEF

The laughter rings, a hollow sound,
Across the painted, cheerful ground.
A mask he wears, a painted smile,
Hiding the tears for a little while.

Beneath the greasepaint, shadows creep,
Where buried sorrows lie so deep.
A heart that aches, a spirit torn,
A silent grief, since early morn.
The spotlight shines, a cruel display,
For joy he feigns, though hope's astray.

He stumbles through the practiced dance,
A fragile soul, caught in a trance.
The crowd below, they cheer and clap,
Oblivious to the silent trap.

They see the jester, light and free,
But not the pain he hides from thee.
Each hurried bow, each clumsy fall,
Conceals a memory that enthralls
His weary mind, a haunting scene,
Of what has been, and might have been.

The music swells, a vibrant beat,
Contrasting with his inner defeat.
He juggles tears he cannot shed,
A living ghost among the dead.

So watch him close, as colors blend,
And see the story without end.
The tears of a clown, a bitter rain,
Washing away the joy and gain.

Gladys the Welcome Wizard Lady is Here

Miss Gladys the Welcome Wizard lady is here
She is full of sass, beyond an insane level of cheer
No one wants to let her in, we try to ignore the bell
She climbs in the front window, demolishing the sill.

Hi we say, faking a smile, pretending to be pleased.
She retains weird enthusiasm, her pitch a little wheezed.
We are yawning through her brochure-filled presentation
She feigns happiness, another welcome wizard celebration.

She gets paid for every family whom she annoys
On the way out, she stubs her toe on one of baby’s toys
We did not apologize, maybe this is why she is suing
But judge, we argue candidly, her getting in was not our doing.

Immolation: Words From the Second

Both selves have fallen, to the drink at last,
A time to forge the third, and split anew.
The first: Too funny, fleeting dreams have passed,
Too light for purpose, upside-down yet true.

Beloved by all but self—so lost, so sweet,
Its hollow laughter echoed through the night.
The second, cold with empire’s pallid beat,
Kept the professors' chickens up in fright.

The wine—transforming masks of elf and self,
A cruel trick, as one dissolved to two.
The world feigns wait, confused, upon a shelf,
Not knowing which of these it wishes true.

Yet seasons change, and with them comes the call:
To walk as one, or split, to rise from fall.

When life winked with smile

We live a good life, there’s no guile--
Life of twosome stranded on isle.
She said with a strange spout
That showed there was some doubt,
What was amiss, just that damned style,
Reality that reigns,
Mankind’s the kind that feigns, 
And yet, life has such clout,
Bare few opt to get out,
Life with her wiles winked t’me with smile.  
_____________________________
Limerick |02.11.2024|humour, life, style

The Reality Of Dreams

I emerged from the dream state with a channel
for you to view
Look beyond the screen of troubled waters
& the land made to shake
Signs are appearing in record numbers because
of cracks inside of you
It's that hunger for broken things that the one
on high will have to sate

Drama kings & evil queens play their roles til
end of scripts
That playing God in others lives amused him
immensely but they knew it not
In this dream I saw him come untying knots
& righting ships
With him were waves of massive size meant to
destroy wayward plots

It's all laughs until it's not & we have to sleep
in made beds
We bring disaster to ourselves when we choose
to misalign 
Only the blind cannot see when they are wrongly
being led
There's no excuse for those that can see yet choose
to be blind

He feigns ignorance for a time just to see 
how far it goes
No one is perfect & he knows so he lets error show
the way
Learning from error brings growth & from those 
that learn it really shows
Some dreams are messages from beyond for those
to interpret what they convey

thoughts words and deeds

cannot bear the weight of all my sin
Alas, I fear, I’ll commit them all again
To add another pound or two of guilt
And hide behind my flame-retardant quilt

And so if Hell must have me I’ll submit
And stand accused of sins I did commit
And some, alas, that fell between the cracks
Of penalties enforced by dark robed quacks

And yet the penalty does seem severe
For one who made a mockery of fear
Now feigns the trembling words “I do not care”
To mend the garment rent without a tear

I have sinned in thoughts and words and deeds
To minister to those without a creed

The Forgotten Child of the Four Seasons

Winter slowly wakes with an ice-cold nose.
Spends much of its time sneezy winds it blows. 

Spring’s wardrobe full of floral foulard feigns change.
Dresses then frolics in daydreams of blue-sky mountain range. 

Summer stands tall at the peak of its height.
Glistening body, warm bright smile, and remains everyone’s delight. 

Autumn, the forgotten child of the four seasons,
hides behind Summer, always runs to Winter, and envies Spring without reason.

Ode to a Dove

Blight the clouds lowly dispirited feigns,
Despite these regards there belies the shrouds,
In height uncovers the misplaced reclaims,
Ignite, blameless drives of a dove in clouds.

In measured distance or that of life's span,
Of treasured reflections as fawning dawns,
A feathered friend that needs a shepherd's hand,
Unfettered airiness descends chiffons.

An aloof crowned hall grows ever grandeur,
Shall allude facts of dire circumstances,
Can assume, beasts of burden, not dirt-poor,
Ample proof, a slanted roof, mischances.

Grounds, telltale's a flap, wingless warrior,
Sounds, fled coos, eyes unreachable love,
Downs of feathers white o'er once courier,
Pounds the ceaseless cease ... flights anew born dove.

Touched by God

Once touched by God, what then remains,
for then there’s nothing left to seek.
Unlike ego, love never feigns,
as head and heart dance, cheek to cheek.

Vaporised presence is at peace,
ambling along slowly through life
in monk mode, embrace and release,
free from strife, at all times bliss rife.

• Short Feigns Poems
• Famous Feigns Poems
• Best Feigns Poems
• Read Feigns Poems
• Long Feigns Poems
• Feigns Quotes