Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
I want to be as poetic as the Indians
But I feel trapped like the Armenians
For one to change colors of a Chameleon
They have to hold the brush in the way that's professional.
Benjamin Bauda Nov 2017
Woman
They pamper us,
From the belly to the grave,
From nothing to something,
Transforming our cry to laughter,
Making us smile in soft and hard times,
Thats why He called them our Helpmate,
They are special and awesome.

Their words are soothing and comforting,
To the Baby and the baby.
We are happy to be around them,
Both young and old, little and big,
All to their bossoms we fly.
For in them lies our nutrients and strength.

Her creator called her woman,
Her husband calls her sweetheart,
Her children call her mother,
She is one of a kind,
The cause of man's trouble, the help behind his triumph,
Hate her, love her you still love her because you need her.
She is God's first gift to man,
And we all love her,
She is a woman.
For all the great women in my life
prior to passing thru ******, buck naked bare
this grandson of Aaron, the sole heir –
   foreshortened to Sol Aire
evinced (as shown via ultra sound),

   which at birth became crystal clear,
   an obsessive compulsive prone
   human being, endear
ringly cute as a baby monkey possessed fear
some countenance tipping the scales needled gear

greater or lesser than seven pounds
   (minus or plus a few ounces)
   with a mass of dreaklocked hair,
otherwise a gangly sack of many a lovely bone,
   whereat obstetricians
   could not help himself but jeer

thus upon exiting birth cana;
   found him twirling loose
   ***** follicular fibers accord
ding to medical records,
   a combination of his being bored

(with a really lee super strong arm penchant)
   to sport dreadlocks, tough as hemp cord
an anomaly, which no app could com pare,
   boot nonetheless highly adored

resembling inimitable indestructible filaments,
   when taut could lift off the ground a board
dillow, which no reference manual could address
even topnotch experts queried, could not explain

   outrageous constituent rare
lee if never seen before, though still insured,
a novel boot nada so critical freak of nature ma lord
hirsute component part in a triple tier moored
substantial pressure upon the head,

entwining, looping, spilling somehow
   interweaving umbilical cord
into a mass of whirled wide webbed wear suitable for
four seasons, which bamboozled,

grew like Kudzu into
   an immense globular mass galore
('bout the size of Rhose Island) after one year ****
more, and wove in part from stem cell threads, nor
ceased proliferating after birth placenta
   accrued intact and immediately put in cold store

room, a by very peculiar product
   tinged with strands of blond hair
evoking how lioness would  roar
coccooning, contriving,
   and conveying this tiny dude

   into a self concocted
   hermetically sealed giant spore
miniature mummy, who without doubt
   looked like a lady bug hide entombment
   able to survive thermonuclear war
   as a minor subsequent repercussion

the downy side understood, impeterable forest
filched countless growing years, without jest
ting, when figurative messed
hair em scare em bedlam reigned as a supreme nest
sans shrieking obsessed invisible hoodlums
   broke free their electric kool aid acid test

from maximum security solitary confinement in vest  
ment for naught (busting andirons weighing down
  with reinforced steel trapdoor cladding
   didst not bar compulsive
   banshee like imps of thee pervert,
   but merely slow down

   miniscule limbs emulated a hitch hiker thumb
   upon will could assume the Alaska Bull Worm sized
   Albatross shaped achorage)
unsinkable (short term)
   screaming, rebelling, quaking,
atomic sized banshee beastie boys
   et cetera with fiery zest.
poetryaccident Oct 2018
Once the mighty played the field
floating high above all men
vices seized to be absolved

the past had culture that defiled
assaults dismissed by ego’s boon
permission gave to monsters’ birth

power flexed for pleasure's sake
taken when the giving balked
rights discarded for delight’s harm

to take control was the goal
lorded over the smaller ones
wanting all and then some more

present day has now arrived
with tender wounds aching still
calling out the miscreants

authority tastes the bitter edge
justice in the public eye
the clay feet are now revealed

command cuts itself to heal
the fiends seen in mirror’s face
altars splashed with sacrificed

the mighty fall by gravity
no longer able to stand upright
when the sins have true weight.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171114.
Once the mighty played the field
floating high above all men
vices seized to be absolved

the past had culture that defiled
assaults dismissed by ego’s boon
permission gave to monsters’ birth

power flexed for pleasure's sake
taken when the giving balked
rights discarded for delight’s harm

to take control was the goal
lorded over the smaller ones
wanting all and then some more

present day has now arrived
with tender wounds aching still
calling out the miscreants

authority tastes the bitter edge
justice in the public eye
the clay feet are now revealed

command cuts itself to heal
the fiends seen in mirror’s face
altars splashed with sacrificed

the mighty fall by gravity
no longer able to stand upright
when the sins have true weight.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171114.
Akash mazumdar Nov 2017
Yeah it's over!  that's what you said right?
Now you see what I can do just by tonight,
No more reading our conversations,
Will stop adoring every photo i have ours in any folder  in every location,
Even those ones which I got printed ,
From the black n brown nostalgic film tinted,
Tinted in memories which I can never forget,
I'll try to consider that the person except me in the photos is dead ,
No more looking for your last seen on WhatsApp,
Will unstar all the best conversations we had ,
Stop remembering every word you said to me,
Even they are not so good or extremely sweet,
I'll stop writing for you,
No more poems nor a single thought even if have to stop thinking I'll do,
I will move on I guess but I know I lost by best friend,
I'll try to do all of the above things I said ,
You left me! may be it's just a bad dream  may be it's not the truth,
I wish you could understand these feelings not all of them but you didn't tried for few.
K Balachandran Nov 2017
a knock on the door,
comes a coy poetic thought.
ecstatic moments.
Carmella Rose Oct 2017
I fell into your black hole,
I fell into the beauty of your darkness,
I fell onto the cliff of your all mighty love,
but you didn't catch me,
no one did,
i picked myself up
all together,
with million years of standing up,
I became strong,
then you go back,
gave me signs of love,
and didn't even notice
I was holding on so tight,
I was a daydreamer,
a night thinker,
but you're a heartbreaker.
Akash mazumdar Sep 2017
May be I didn't played well,
So the situations are hitting me like hell.,
Is it the karma or the destiny,
It's just breaking me down pushing me off the ease ,
Like am the sea,
Sometimes the moon ; it's pulling me,
So hard to reach up to that height,
But this is not possible though; it might,
It might happen but there will be disaster,
I don't wanna be that bad
now or even after ,
Therefore there will be a permanent interval ,
So the sea will get high; get sad and dull ,
The truth won't change then clouds will cry ,
Sea will be lying someday and next day it will die .
Next page