#endearment
We all know what love is
We all felt it, saw it, expressed it
Love is ancient and everlasting
We have seen movies, drawings, and shows
Read books, poetry, and letters
All conveying and depicting the emotion
We have loved our families and friends
Loved even strangers who shared a passion
Causes and ideologies that we admired
Compassionate and care towards life
Loving even parts of our own selves
We can recognize all of love's forms
From its beauty to its bitterness
From birth to present
We continued to love
Yet the moment you entered my life
It was at that point of time
Did I truly understand
What love is
Sep 23, 2025
Sep 23, 2025 at 9:08 AM UTC
The deep dark hue of the ocean blue
Is not as blue–
as I without you.
The lively lush green of a summer scene
Can’t match my sheen,
When you’re with me.
The harsh cold of arctic winter weather
Sullens my soul,
when we aren’t together.
Sep 16, 2025
Sep 16, 2025 at 1:12 PM UTC
All the little things about you
are the big things in my life
Jun 18, 2023
Jun 18, 2023 at 9:15 PM UTC
the couple pledged
a lifetime of devotion
vowing to be loyal
to one another
as the years rolled on
the bonds of affection
increased in steadfastness
theirs being a true
endearment forevermore
Aug 25, 2021
Aug 25, 2021 at 11:48 PM UTC
Of beige gaze.
Premonition in the river cast passing.
Would those trees looming
uncertain by gravity
fall on us?
The effort tried in setting
oar’s agility,
so as not to
Hit the sides,
For my own persistence
And calm,
willed mistakes is.
As.
Calm.
Demeanour.
Wills.
In steel.
As bliss.
Bliss such of slipping
out of boat’s grasp
to that of illusionary time,
Out of speech’s hold,
Tenfold,
From how summer moulds.
Head out,
it,
I will
to lying in river’s sole
fine line of freeze,
Who holds dear the mute,
those who feign not appurtenance
of this world,
As the sail companion’s
left to thinking.
Though oars may hit the shore
Lungs in silver lining stay aboard.
Face backwards.
And the bottom separating
River and Boat
will pretend its existence
No more.
I walk
and my laudability
can’t be taken
Off.
As a current like I
Runs air-tight bubbles.
/And the sounding:
SHeeSH | CLing |LiNK |
SHeer | CRinge | PLinTH |.
FLOW, mOUld me SOre/
Jul 31, 2020
Jul 31, 2020 at 4:33 PM UTC
_I used to be your little cream puff;
But these days I just feel like a medium-sized cabbage._
May 27, 2019
May 27, 2019 at 3:29 AM UTC
It’s like walking on air
Floating on sunshine
Sniffing rainbows
Dancing with unicorns
Twirling under sunsets
Always and forever my love
Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 9:15 AM UTC
love me because i'm different
rough on the outside yet sweet underneath
peel back my layers, enjoy fruits of discovery
learn with me, grow with me
little kiwi tree
Apr 18, 2018
Apr 18, 2018 at 1:58 PM UTC
a woman shouldn't be called by sweet names,
'cause she can also be bitter when neglected.
a woman shouldn't be called a princess or a queen,
'cause she can also be a knight when hurt.
a woman shouldn't be called love,
'cause she can also use her intelligence to know of you are cheating.
a woman should be called by her name,
'cause it is the most lovely thing she will hear from the man she loves.
Jan 1, 2018
Jan 1, 2018 at 11:35 AM UTC
“Sugarlump!
You make my heart thump,”
My grandmother said
As she patted my young head.
She’d give me a thump
Not hard enough to leave a bump.
It was her term of affection
To call me sugar lump.
Sugarllump.
An old-time phrase I grew up with,
I’ve used it through the years.
It means you tickle me.
It also means you are dear.
True the guys get a bit out of shape
When I say sugarlump to them,
But then I’m not their grandmother.
I am, after all, vey much ‘a him’.
“Sugarlump!
You make my heart thump,”
My grandmother said
As she patted my young head.
She’d give me a thump
Not hard enough to leave a bump.
It was her term of affection
To call me sugar lump.
But I find some people as sweet
And as delightful as homemade candy.
They are what triggers me to say
“Sugarlump, you are just dandy.”
So I use the phrase judiciously
For the fellows I happen to know
But for women a heckuva lot.
Every few comments or so.
“Sugarlump!
You make my heart thump,”
My grandmother said
As she patted my young head.
She’d give me a thump
Not hard enough to leave a bump.
It was her term of affection
To call me sugar lump.
Aug 13, 2017
Aug 13, 2017 at 8:13 PM UTC
With each breath drawn, the distance which parts our bodies will evaporate, like dew after dawn.
And with each exhale of humid breath, the time taken slipping out of fabrics slows to a streamlined unveiling; that could entwine me until death.
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 12:48 AM UTC
*Our hearts were placed in ovens
with the rotisserie setting set on lust*
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 2:14 PM UTC
I have exhausted my ink, my pen, my hand.
My tongue has unlearned all languages,
all terms of endearment and soft sayings.
I am no longer flesh, no longer blood,
but have transformed myself into wind:
a wind that has traveled the oceans for you,
a wind that has discovered Africa's worth,
that has lifted me into an African skirt
where the origin of everything began.
Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 2:30 PM UTC
A TERM OF ENDEARMENT.....
As a little girl my girl friends dad
Called me BIRDBRAIN....
And that never bothered me.
I knew it was a term of endearment.
Of course back then I didn't know
What endearment meant.
But I knew he was kidding...
His house was the fun house
Of the neighborhood.
His wife was an angel.
We had taffy pulls,
Mrs G made popcorn *****
And lined up chairs
In front of the television
So we kids could watch
Wrestling....
with a big bubble magnifying glass
And she served us bowls of popcorn.
Always something to do....
I went to the quarry one time with them
Looking for fancy rocks....
Mr. G, Mr. G is this a good one?
No Birdbrain, it's just sandstone...
He was a fancy rock collector...
The name Birdbrain was so special to me...
A name which was spoken with
Endearment....
I'm sure of that.....
By judy
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 6:45 PM UTC
The soft touch of poetry
Makes me want more
Words, never the same
Suddenly everything looks bright
The aura of poetry
Surrounds me with happiness
My soul gladdens
With the feel of ink flowing through
Life gets a new meaning
When I look through poetic words
Blank papers sketched
With the labor of love
Soft touch of poetry soothes
The travails of outside world
Life spent in the confines of poetry
Only, not to be contained
In the precincts of this life
Much beyond
You can wander
With poetry as your guide
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 12:00 PM UTC
A poet is daydreaming – contemplating,
Stale is his entire mind surpassed;
An accomplice confers his realization,
Neither to suffice the fool – disillusioned.
That poet daydreams, dismayed in trance,
‘A truce!’ he barters, on a fitted fray.
Frailty of his core seems definite in stance,
‘Tis anecdote… apparent of dismay.
The poet daydreams of the one he loves;
Severs the sympathy by egoism and contempt.
Scalar quantity of a breaching throb,
Under the tutelage of an infidel attempt.
The writer’s words are never dull, always honed;
Unyielding cutting edges fit for the crockery.
Elusive as emotions – tender as the blade of words sliced,
Thus cuts through the flesh, mind and soul like mockery.
Thus the poet’s mind can never be measured,
Nor does the ability of a man can overcome;
For both come from the Divine – Oh, highly favored!
Poetry of prose, so unique and unstrung.
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 12:40 AM UTC