Long Blear Poems

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Premium Member Metaphysical Moments Recited

METAPHYSICAL MOMENTS
Upon my knee I come to thee
with my concern,to you,this plea

Chorus-I heard you speak,and so I wait
until my heart,with you relate

verse-so many times I ask and ask
inadequate to do this task

chorus-I know,I know,I hear your call
yet still hold back,frightened to fall

verse-at last I see and know within
strengthened by you,I can begin

chorus-A simple verse,from you above
to show to others Jesus love


after Robert Herrick TO GOD

Endwell me Lord,each day
be now my tongue,in all I say;
Endwell my all,from deep to deep
from dayspring,'til I sleep

after john keble's famous verse

Fill me once more,Holy Spirit to know,
Move me ,inside,you love to show,
Quieten my heart,now to play
Without rehearsal,on life's stage each phrase to say.

Speak,speak by thought,picture,word or deed,
Then in my weakness,your strength feed:
O teach my tomgue to quiet be,
Until you prompt,and all I say,is all of thee.

This double quatrain was inspired by
Abraham Cowley's (1618-67) 'Hymn to Light'


Make me O Lord your witness each day
teach my tongue, quieten my heart
open mine ears, to all, to me,you say
guide my eyes,when I see in part;
and then help others ,through these lips
to be blessed,toe to fingertip

Quatrain after Edward Taylor the first American poet

Sad is the heart so full of care
Of tomorrow's what will,will be,
Upon his sleeve,all life does wear,
                    For all to see

Cast down,choking with eyes that blear
No words can comfort or make free,
Thought frozen in yesterday's fear,
                   That none can see.  

After Alexander Pope

Listen to me recite these Metaphysicals on youtube ichthyschiro
Form: Verse


Premium Member Metaphyscial the Genre

Upon my knee I come to thee
with my concern,to you,this plea

Chorus-I heard you speak,and so I wait
until my heart,with you relate

verse-so many times I ask and ask
inadequate to do this task

chorus-I know,I know,I hear your call
yet still hold back,frightened to fall

verse-at last I see and know within
strengthened by you,I can begin

chorus-A simple verse,from you above
to show to others Jesus love


after Robert Herrick TO GOD

Endwell me Lord,each day
be now my tongue,in all I say;
Endwell my all,from deep to deep
from dayspring,'til I sleep

after john keble's famous verse

Fill me once more,Holy Spirit to know,
Move me ,inside,you love to show,
Quieten my heart,now to play
Without rehearsal,on life's stage each phrase to say.

Speak,speak by thought,picture,word or deed,
Then in my weakness,your strength feed:
O teach my tomgue to quiet be,
Until you prompt,and all I say,is all of thee.

This double quatrain was inspired by
Abraham Cowley's (1618-67) 'Hymn to Light'


Make me O Lord your witness each day
teach my tongue, quieten my heart
open mine ears, to all, to me,you say
guide my eyes,when I see in part;
and then help others ,through these lips
to be blessed,toe to fingertip

Quatrain after Edward Taylor the first American poet

Sad is the heart so full of care
Of tomorrow's what will,will be,
Upon his sleeve,all life does wear,
                    For all to see

Cast down,choking with eyes that blear
No words can comfort or make free,
Thought frozen in yesterday's fear,
                   That none can see.  

After Alexander Pope
Form: Didactic

Greeting Tomorrow

My love-jaded heart will no longer respond to the sound
Of whispering raindrops in fall or a train passing by.
I've got brand new wings, yet so frail; I lose touch with the ground
To take to my fantasy velvet mysterious sky.

I'm fine in my bulletproof shell and I quit endless waiting
Like quitting an old nasty habit and moving ahead,
Exploring the worlds that my own deft mind is creating;
Old passion's extinguished along with one more cigarette. 

Whenever I light one, its taste and its sweet bitter flavor
Remind me of sharing a kiss I imagined that spring;
If only that winter I'd been just a little bit braver,
This all would have come to the same tragic end in a blink.

The guise in the mirror of spring is a blear reflection
Of somebody already dead and forgotten at all
Yet standing the very last chance for the heart's resurrection;
I swear I'm back on my feet, you may shoot, I won't fall.

The past is all gone, so one day I'll forget to remember
And gladly discover I've chosen nothing to keep,
Awaiting another July and another December;
And now it's time to put down my pen and just sleep.

What dreams are to haunt me, I wonder? Next morning I'll know,
My mind is still blank as I'm totally sober toight;
My desperate thoughts and my fears are letting me go,
I'm ready to enter the kingdom of misty midnight.

I'm ready to enter the gates of tomorrow now,
Today is a legend and yesterday - just a mistake. 
I'm crossing the line, I will make it all through anyhow,
Just happy to live and to breathe every morning I wake.
Form: Rhyme

Greeting Tomorrow

My love-jaded heart will no longer respond to the sound
Of whispering raindrops in fall or a train passing by.
I've got brand new wings, yet so frail; I lose touch with the ground
To take to my fantasy velvet mysterious sky.

I'm fine in my bulletproof shell and I quit endless waiting
Like quitting an old nasty habit and moving ahead,
Exploring the worlds that my own deft mind is creating;
Old passion's extinguished along with one more cigarette. 

Whenever I light one, its taste and its sweet bitter flavor
Remind me of sharing a kiss I imagined that spring;
If only that winter I'd been just a little bit braver,
This all would have come to the same tragic end in a blink.

The guise in the mirror of spring is a blear reflection
Of somebody already dead and forgotten at all
Yet standing the very last chance for the heart's resurrection;
I swear I'm back on my feet, you may shoot, I won't fall.

The past is all gone, so one day I'll forget to remember
And gladly discover I've chosen nothing to keep,
Awaiting another July and another December;
And now it's time to put down my pen and just sleep.

What dreams are to haunt me, I wonder? Next morning I'll know,
My mind is still blank as I'm totally sober toight;
My desperate thoughts and my fears are letting me go,
I'm ready to enter the kingdom of misty midnight.

I'm ready to enter the gates of tomorrow now,
Today is a legend and yesterday - just a mistake. 
I'm crossing the line, I will make it all through anyhow,
Just happy to live and to breathe every morning I wake.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Maquillage Civilization

Maquillage Civilization

Come ! Quick ! Quick ! 
              Cover up the tracks !
That lead to my doom
Even the lynx watches blear-eyed the bald-eagle
	badgering badgers waddling down slithering marshes
Curling wisps of mists            torn shreds of time
	hug low down by dripping pines

And I wonder at the long lost lines of pre-Stone Age Cave Men
	who have long preceded my own

Come! Quick! Quick! 
                    Cover up the tracks!
   Am I the Cloned Monster of my dreams!
Fierce thoughts warp my mind on wild backs 
   And make my hand shake through weird themes

Say, how many eons ago
   Did this entrenched sea-begetter of mine
Binding metallic force on madraged muscled ego
   Take shape to terrorize the brine

How many the magmatic engines hide under my gnarled hide
I hear them growl and grind in my bowels
Fizzing comets drill through memory-compressed neurons
And foist the thoughts boil-caged in my veins

Who are the unkempt ogling and babbling baboons
Prising libidos through rousing neck-biting sex-twined clashes
                                      through gaping maw
Come streamlined in a many-laundered thing

The downward civilizing trek  
The paint on the wall
	held firm by the poisoning lead

Come! Quick! Quick!  
                Cover up the tracks!
Nothing changes like Change!
The Monster who lurks under the skin
Is still the Master of my whims!

Come! Quick! Quick!
	Cover up the ….

© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
© T Wignesan  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member Why?

Children are curious so they ask, why?
Adults, when flustered, let out a sigh.
We often ask why, when loved ones die,
and frequently ask why as we cry.

Why was I betrayed by my heartthrob?
I was naïve and married a snob.
Why did my loved one suddenly die,
leaving me behind to grieve and cry?

Why was it I who got the pink stub?
After all I gave, that was a snub!
And why did it happen at this time,
when I am so far past my prime?

Why is my grown son such a slob?
He just cannot hold down a job.
Why can’t he be like his sister Kate,
whose career is career is going so great?

Why did my parents abandon me,
and treat me as if I am a flea?
My life is now a living hell,
as with depression I daily dwell.

Why did God allow this to happen,
to my friend who was such a good chap?
Why do the good suffer with the bad?
When this happens, it makes people mad.

Sages have pondered the question, why?
To find answers they surely did try.
But despite their tomes which blear the eyes
We are no wiser and still ask, why?

When we are asked why, sometimes we lie.
The truth is we will seldom know why.
The best we can do is to just sigh.
So, do not waste your time asking why.

Learn from the things that happen to you.
Let what you learn inform what you do.
Life is a school, so, do not despair,
take heart, your heavenly Father cares.
Form: Rhyme

Cortile of Old House

Along  with  their  desolate  fortune,
Old  parents  waiting  for  their  unsparing  children,
Who  leaved  them  in the  barren  garden,
For  the  sake  of  their  ambitions,
They  omit  them  between  the  world,
When  they  needed  love  and  care,
They  gifted  them  with  despair,
Inspite  their  aloofness,
Blear eyes  still  searches  for  them,
In  the  cortile  of  old  house,


Every  evening  they  sit  together,
Share  their  griefs  with  each  other,
Collect  their  broken  dreams,
with  lots  of  tears  and  scream,
hold  each  other  hands,
As  they  are  the  passenger  of  the  same land,
In  the  cortile  of  old  house,


I  know  that one  day  they  will  sleep,
In  the  lap  of  grave,
But  their sorrows will remain,
Gloom  words  left,
Inconvenient  plaints shout ever and ever,
In  the  cortile  of  old  house,


Whole  night  and  the  entire  day,
They  worry  about  them  and  pray,
Old  memories  tease  them,
Tear  their  hearts with a sharp condemn,
With  the  passage  of  time,
Their  wounds  heal,
Time  will not come  back,
But  must  repeats  itself,
It  may  be  possible  that,
After  a  stumble  of  time,
Those  who  rejects heaven  in  the  earth,
Will  be  the  next  passenger,
In  the  cortile  of  old  house,
Form: Verse

Rain of Rose 2

Rosy rains still keep dapping on me, rippling into me, trickling in me  
My sentiment and sentimentality set into sediment like descending haze
Settled, stagnated, then crystalized into concrete and constant gaze
Gaze from adrift to assured, from timid to fuss-free
Where her long-winded Hebe falls upon my sensuous serendipity
My short-winded romance catches upon her contagious catholicity

Through and o'er million-mile-long cascade of rains
Romance-woven, rose-waved, rushing curtain after curtain
My gaze meets the Grace of Venus' veins
Venus' veins from blear to clear, from confused to certain
Splicing and brightening each inspiring spot
Along each dimensionality of the whole universe
So perfectly the vast vivacity fits into my sensorial slot
That my everything rhymes and roils with its magnificent verse

Far and wide anacampserote describes      
Far and wide rosy tides arise
From the perigee of my sights to the aphelion of her skies 
From the margin of my mind to the adytum of her vibes            
Harking back to earlier path strewn with romances of royal grith 
Hearkening forward to future favors featuring our millennial myth
Reachable osculation, ne'er has remote oneirism so uncannily overlapped 
Raying reality, ne'er has rainy romance so snugly wrapped.

Imperfectly Perfect

Everytime I look at the mirror 
There are flaws on my skin which are clear 
All the dark spots on my skin 
Where people think it is a sin 
I think I had a beautiful smile 
But I left it a long while may be a mile 
When someone stares at my eyes which are round 
They can only see the dark circles 
around 
Tried to wear lots of make up 
But it just gets messed up 
I Ain't the girl with perfect shape 
Yet the girl with good heart 
When someone calls me ugly 
I leave the place happily 
When I reach home my eyes start to cry 
And looking at the same reflector 
Jus like other people I only saw my blear 
I hear the street whispering my name 
Calling me ugly ,fat at least that is the place where I got the fame 
I started my self to blame 
But never thought the person who said mind was a lame 
Begin to wear lots of natural and chemical products 
Where these stuffs made myself a person of abduct 
At one point I got tired of all the sayings 
I started to see myself as glowing 
Though I am not a model 
At least I can be the role model 
I have lots of flaws and scares 
So I started to love them as they are 
Eventually when I looked myself in mirror this time I gave a big smile 
And said "Beauty lies in heart and definitely not in face" ---dhanu??

The Tops

up a steep and narrow road
reach the tops
wilderness reclaims a verge
of wintery snags
land juts and tilts
hauls out
lays treeless

clumps and hags
pitch up stricken soil
heap above the miry troughs 

loud the heartbeat
nearer to feral thought
then any mouth or ear

swale and quag dawdle
appear to seep listless 
no
every bog tunnels shrouded
to fetch up the feckless

harsh and gorsy
heather treading low
the moors mark nothing
only a head of gnashing wind 
a whipping dinosaurs tail
blear and chill 
bites and grapples

a stone-tusked marl 
crofts under
tangles of un-spun fleece 
in barb and thistle
sheep piss in running rivulets  
thread through
mizzle-pecked rocks 
inscribed
by whatever tortures the air

ravens picket grit edges
wings beating back the below 
primal caws that lift and speak
for the standing stones
their harrowing
lime-cuffed history

before light founders deeper
black anvils appear
in the lowering

a scant anchoring
a bare farrowing
shorn and scoured aloft
by miles of orbiting
beauty

twenty years later
son sends pictures
of moors long traipsed

the sky in my phone howls

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