To my complacent Ms. Crane
I am at odds my love, your comely visage has my heart rend. I struggle somewhere betwixt carnality and a fervent want of your attention. Oh! Ms. Crane, I do so labor for your love. The muse runs foolhardy across every page, and on stage I act the jester just to catch a glimpse of that sweet Southern smile. I do so aspire to taste the nectar of your kiss. All this time apart has my heart yearning, even imploring your touch. I beseech your name to stop the tribulation, to ease the travailing of my heart. My belle I don't say these things in comfort, I adamantly long for a union of our souls, and a harmony played on our heartstrings. As God is my witness, love is our destination, however our journey begins with us. I query of your heart oh misfortuned women, what perplexes your heart? What clutters your mind's thoughts? Is it I? My only desire is your happiness. I too, see happiness as my endeavor. So this leaves us at a crossroad. Shall we be a blessed union, or do we wander trodden thoroughfare?
Preemptively yours
Michael
Categories:
travailing, girlfriend, heartbreak, i miss
Form: Prose
I’m asked if my literary work is fiction or reality
Do I compose to inspire those to read with affection
Expressing my thoughts and feelings through poetry
Weaving my spiritual, cultural, or historical reflections
Applying humor and sadness or simple common folklore
Acceptance of my gift to write in free verse or rhyme
Often integrating images, creativity, and metaphors
I hope reading my poetry never wastes anyone’s time
A cluster of thoughts akin to an array of butterflies
Flutters in my head like a mass of balanced accounts
A helium-filled balloon, and at its end is a string tied
Trees bid farewell to leaves cascading to the ground
Bring to life the mind’s imagination for what it is worth
Travailing and pushing the words out is how we express
Just as a soon-to-be mother, in due season, brings birth
A subtle way to connect, we, poets, unashamedly confess
On plain parchment that influenced us in every walk of life
Leaving an everlasting mark of our poetic pleasure or pain
Like footprints on the beach or a scar from a serrated knife
We are poets because we love leaving an indelible ink stain
Categories:
travailing, muse, october, poetry, poets,
Form: Rhyme
(Patterned off the famous folk song 'Men of Harlech,' which is in the public domain.)
Men of freedom hear them wailing,
from the truth they’re always quailing,
scared of work or real travailing,
not like free-born men.
Men of freedom stop their screaming,
and their socialistic dreaming,
give them all a much-earned reaming,
all those wokish men.
Slavish souls disgusting,
cultish minds untrusting,
silencing all who dare speak true,
because inside they’re nothing.
Men of freedom don’t surrender,
these fools are brainless pretenders,
cannot tell a him from a her,
not like free-born men.
Men of freedom must hold steady,
keep your A.R.s clean and ready,
when time comes make your aim deadly,
fight like free-born men.
Take your boot and on them impress,
recall sic semper tyrannus,
tyrant scum will all be banished
faced with free-born men.
The ‘elites’ insulting,
they’re pedos revolting!
Living in an endless fear
of free-born men assaulting!
Men of freedom give no quarter
to those who would give us horror,
save your land for sons and daughters,
fight on free-born men.
Categories:
travailing, america, freedom, men, patriotic,
Form: Rhyme
The dark, darkest night
Oh crescent moonlight
A trace or slight glimmer
Divine stars abating all tremors
A dark night of the soul
Travailing darkness new and old
Singlely erecting from nothingness
Now, standing in divine abundance
Oh, beautiful bennu lifting its wings
From lowly ashes up, and up the bird sings
Super soul path sailing
Oh divine light, no more wailing
Lonely might be the lot
But alone, not alone, not
Categories:
travailing, appreciation, confidence, encouraging, growth,
Form: Rhyme
Beholdest thou thy visage upon the looking glass
and art plagued by gloom most ravenous?
Dost thou bemoan the man of rags thou art
unworthy to wallow in stardust?
Sufferest thou the curse of inferiority
with a lowered head to behold the towers of the city?
Thinkest thou to be gods men with gold coins
and without kingly pride lookest down on the seed of thy loins?
Why flauntest not thou thy scar
breaking even the holy tryst with the dark?
Thou must consider again what is truth
as thy soul still is fueled by the adrenaline of youth.
Seest thou a need to sail on a boat
a quest rich with faith for an antidote?
Have thou ever been drunk with tears
and wouldest thou love to stagger off life's unfair course?
Dreamest thou thyself at meat with princes?
Will thou then not fly away through this prison bars o'er the seas?
Is thy will not a ready signet
and noble ink thy sweat?
Awake! Awake from this nightmare
and behold travailing sky upon the birth of a morning fair!
Gird thy loins to meet thyself unveiled on the ruins of reason
where the scribes wait on thee as thy epic is born.
Categories:
travailing, depression, faith, inspirational, pain,
Form: Didactic
People sinning, bad men grinning
A world of flux and spam
To fight the horrid, slow the torrid
The smart ones have a plan.
By election, or selection
You’ll be part of this fight
Poked and prodded, shame allotted
They’ll force you to ‘the light.’
Burned and scoured, endless glowers
You wonder what comes next
They taunt and bait, incarcerate
To make it all ‘correct.’
But nature vying, break the lying
Smashes cries of ‘hate.’
Strictures failing, soon travailing
Truth comes by too late
Realization, not imagination
You are just what I am
People sinning, bad men grinning
A world of flux and spam.
Categories:
travailing, fate, humanity, life, political,
Form: Rhyme
Unwrapping a Day With Hope
reflections
in a mirror
wear questions
a soul barren
of answers---
unequivocal
travailing
considerations
traverse
the spirit
cycling ideas
undeniable
it is
it’s now
unquestionable
clinging now
to grace
indisputable
wrapping
with faith
the questions
unwrapping
the gift
of hope
All Rights Reserved @ Debra Squyres 2013
Categories:
travailing, faith, hope, inspirational,
Form: Free verse
A walk into flight
Love lost
I have been walking towards waves of –
patiently travailing those rocky shores – Love
has laid before the feet of this old fool.
Upon my back, I carry this weight like a mule,
only to find my imprints are taking wing
leaving me with a broken heart, to sing
my melancholy songs, long after all is gone
to dust, carried upon wings, the winds above
all, what I – with hope, anticipation – thought was Love.
B. J. “A” 2
November 23rd 2007
Categories:
travailing, lost love,
Form: Rhyme
Endless Chase
Dreams broken
Anthills of fear lurking
Failing forward
Nothing to lean on
The walls crack
Sorrows rack
Musing dryness
Patience
Paling
Oceans of nothingness travailing
Hopelessness hatching
Triggers pulling
Death beckoning
Casket lower
Thresholds folding
Priest dusting dust
Vanity looming
Eternity an endless chase...
Written by Awoh Kingsley
Categories:
travailing, dark,
Form: Free verse
Free style
Fire travailing and traveling
Lies basking behind
Sorrows burrowing my bones
Empitiness dueling sleeplessness
Vain expectations looming
Kith and kins nagging
Heaven's gate silence
Prayers turn thorns
Tide and time tumbling
Girls gnashing
Money mocking
A wise man of Gotham
Lost in the bin
Looking and lulling
Head empty
Bed bugs bagging
Streets streaming
Echoes hanging in the air
Kisses chasing
Two look at two
Heartbroken, tears conquered
Smile restored
Tomorrow is gone
Today is now
Sex is stupidity
Pleasure is vain
Death is glory
Poverty is honour
Growth a trap
Reality is perception
Who are you
Am just a freestyle
Written by Awoh Kingsley
*the pattern of the above poem is a
freestyle...written when i was depress and
confuse.
8th Jan, 2013
Categories:
travailing, art,
Form: I do not know?
Oh my God
Can you hear your child.
down below
in the pit
I’m crying out of my soul
I’m repenting now
Forgive me
for all of my sins
cleanse me now
wash me clean
From the inside out Oh God
Transform me this day
Lord Oh Lord
unto thee I cry
travailing
tears I cry
from out of my soul oh Lord
I wail unto thee
Thank you God
for hearing me pray
from the pit
hear me Lord
deliver me from myself
This Oh Lord I Pray!
*Hear my prayer O Lord, and give ear unto my cry
Psalm 39:12...
Shandorma, Spanish origin..6 lines 3/5/3/3/7/5 syllables
Rhymed or unrhymed..any subject..no stanza limit.
Categories:
travailing, devotionme, prayer, me,
Form: Verse
He walks through the deserts of time,
Raising his voice for life's prime,
Sharing and converting,his words do rhyme,
As he selflessly serves without seeking a dime,
He hopes to help pay sin's fine,
Leaving our heart's bell to chime,
He works with an eye single to God's glory,
Travailing and putting to rest life's worry,
For stiff necked persons his heart feels sorry,
As he hopes to share salvation's story,
He returns to his maker bitting death's cherry,
As he rests peacefully in eternity's lorry,
His word still echoes in my mind,
Assuring I'm not left behind,
The feeling of pride I must decline,
For my maker's hand I must find,
My heart and that of my maker he seemed to bind,
Breaking its coldness,atonement's contract was signed,
On my knees he has left me thinking,
Pondering on life as time keeps ticking,
Right from wrong I'm left picking,
As righteousness's light shines,upon decisions flicking,
Resolved I shall stay, as temptations keep pricking,
For I seek to return by my savior's biding,
Categories:
travailing, dedicationheart, heart,
Form: Rhyme
On a cold, summer day
in a desolate, dry land
deserted by a forest who thought too highly of itself
to be associated with such a place
Travailing on a journey
what I'd like to call 'My Wilderness Experience'
without knowing in which direction I should travel
looking back, remembering, yet perplexed
with the inability to see from whence the journey began
In pursuit of the promise
an existence flowing with hopes and dreams realized
My perseverance is plagued with disparity
The day seems dark and the night traps the star's light
allowing its illumination to be arrested on its descent to earth, Jupiter, and Mars
I scream
No one comes, no echo, the sound is swallowed by the cracks in the surface of
fear
My heart beats with thumps of indignation
the blood thins in my veins
My tongue and lips are joined as one
in a plot of sweet revenge
My mind begins to sunder
into plains and valleys
Chimerical to the naked eye
Humorous to the haughty
Continuing my journey while contemplating, anticipating, my long awaited arrival.
Categories:
travailing, introspection, journey,
Form: I do not know?