"accidently" poems
It's funny how you apologise for slight and minimal accidents,
but you don't give a **** about creating explosions of Hell.
You're so ironic that your names could be the definition.
I'd rather you'd have accidently nudged me
than destroy my every thought.
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 5:09 PM UTC
Walking past your bedroom, I hear faint whispers of deep breathing. The sounds grew louder, as I approached the room. I put my ear to the door and heard panting. Accidently, it starts to push further open, revealing her, across the room lying on the bed naked, with both of your hands between your legs, playing…
Jan 23, 2023
Jan 23, 2023 at 3:54 PM UTC
Every story has a criminal
The one after the treasure
The one set on destruction
Reaping chaos among the land
If this life was a Fairytale I'd be the villain
Set on making your world incomplete
I'd be the one trying to steal the treasure
Out of your locked down chest
Stripping you of a life of happiness
I'd be the one who failed to overcome
The tragedy of my past
Failed in mastering the art of love
I'm the nobody
Trying to make myself a god
If this was a fairytale I'd be the villain
I'd be the one always losing
I'd be the one to die in the end
I'd be the one you save
As you accidently plunge a blade through my emptying chest
As we lay there realizing the faults
We both made in this not so happy ending fairytale
We both don't get to live happily ever after
The main point of it was to see good and evil side by side
Happily joining forces to finally see the peace of mind
Yet death always is the price a villain must pay
When his goal is ending the world
Bringing new color into a faded world lost in chaos
The villain was the hero
The hero was the villain
Happiness was prevented
By the one they all gave the flag to wave in their name
Jan 16, 2014
Jan 16, 2014 at 2:34 PM UTC
Walking past your bedroom, I hear faint whispers of deep breathing. The sounds grew louder, as I approached the room. I put my ear to the door and heard panting. Accidently, it starts to push further open, revealing her, across the room lying on the bed naked, with both of your hands between your legs, playing…
Jan 11, 2023
Jan 11, 2023 at 9:33 AM UTC
I sat there
Forever
Waiting for you to come
For my own selfish reasons.
Only to discover under my tears,
That I had accidently drowned everything,
Even the sea,
Underneath the Night Sky.
Feb 12, 2011
Feb 12, 2011 at 7:05 PM UTC
I'm startin' to run out of nursery rhymes
So, I made up one of my own
It's about a nearsighted plumber
That was accidently glued to his throne
Once upon a time, long, long ago
There was a plumber, who I'll call Dale
Poor old Dale had a hard time plumbing
Cause he really couldn't see very well
He'd gotten a call, "The toilet won't flush!
Please, can you come right away?"
Well, old Dale got in such a hurry
He forgot to take his glasses that day
Well, by the time old Dale had got there
The house was in quite a mess
He realized he'd forgotten his glasses
But he'd give that toilet his best
He'd not seen this since plumbing school
But then, he only saw it on a test
And by the time, he got his tools together
The water was starting to crest
He had spotted the problem right away
But remember now, he can only half see
The water was squirtin' six feet high
And poor Dale was only five foot three
He laid his glue on the toilet seat
While trying his best not to drown
He couldn't see where he put it at
And, of course, that's where he sat down
He didn't even know 'till it was too late
He'd bent over to loosen a nut
And that's when he first noticed that thing
The toilet was glued to his ****
So, if you ever need a real good plumber
He's the man for the job, without fail
And I hope you enjoyed this story
About the nearsighted plumber named Dale
I forgot tell you, there's one more thing
About the nearsighted plumber named Dale
That man still has that toilet seat
For the thing's still glued to his tail
© All Rights Reserved
Dec 4, 2010
Dec 4, 2010 at 7:59 PM UTC
Jack and Jill Remix
Jack and Jill went up the hill
If they didn’t they’d be killed
They had to fulfill a task
On the floor they found two masks
Jack fetched a pail of water
Jill was a naughty daughter
Jill was bad and pushed Jack down
Till this day Jack was never found
With the mask on Jill’s face
The police could not close the case
In fear Jill had to hide
And if they found her, she would lie
She was not very wise
For she had forgotten her disguise
Frantic, she tripped and fell
Accidently into the well
Trapped so there she waited
Boiling all full of hatred
Their mother was full of worry
She stuffed herself with bean curry
The police found out who killed Jack
They had to find Jill at last
After along time they gave up
A man went to the well named, Pup
Jill jumped out, free at last
Hoping people forgot the past
But really she was wanted dead
She just needed to be fed
Mother found her, put her to bed
Next day Jill was off with her head
Mother stayed happily fat
Replacing daughter, got a cat
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 1:12 AM UTC
There was a time
when I waited every morning to hear the
soft pitter-patter of your feet,
hurried, like a scurrying fox in my
back garden, just this time by my own front gates.
There was a time
when I stood by the door every morning,
yearning to see your smile and hear your whisper of a
'Good day' promise to me, to accidently
drop the box you softly put in my hands so that you can
pick it up for me. Aren't I sneaky.
Dec 8, 2015
Dec 8, 2015 at 12:23 PM UTC
There once was a man from Liverpool,
he once decided he needed a bigger tool,
so he went to the shop,
he was in a flop,
and accidently bought a new stool.
Apr 25, 2017
Apr 25, 2017 at 5:05 AM UTC
The Hour Glass represents us. Confused how.. Let me elaborate it to you.
You do see the sand that is seeping slowly off the orifice between the two bowls..
That sand shows the flow of love from ur heart to mine. But wen the flow stops. U just have to revert the glass and u vl see that Ur love is not just taken in, it is adored, processed, felt. Its warmth and the care that is hidden in it is scrutinized. And then it flows back into u.
This is the way we are. Due to this our love always wins from our fights.
U widout any selfishness and greed give me all that u ve got inside u, planting banyan trees of love to make it live for years.
And here, Its me, trying to provide the carbon dioxide and water for helping the tree to grow and feel the fresh oxygen, extracting each amount and inhaling it wid full greed. This greed, Which Comes like a reflex only fr u, is not a devil's one but a Loving one. How can it be possible to share u wid anyone else in the whole world. I cant help it. I cant share u. And I am proud of being greedy fr u.
This sand which keeps on seeping consists of all memories stored in it about us.
All of them, Staring wild eyes with the rays of Innocent Infatuation, Then the seed of frndship that we planted (Actually u planted), And then My extravagant feelings converting that seed of frndship directly into a plant of love, Then the rains and the hot sun that the plant faced between these paceful yrs we were together, Then the Era of wisdom that attacked me and made me construct a good shelter to protect this plant from heavy rains and hot burning rays of rageful sun..
All these memories. That we lived together. Which we now remember and smile, sometyms cry and sometyms even laugh after crying. And I promise to give u more, good, to be confident, fresh and best memories in this lyf ahead so that while taking our last breath these wud give u the best smile u ever had in ur lyf.
And if this hourglass, ever, accidently or unfortunately breaks, dont be sad. cuz these memories are stored in every pinch of the sand it contains not the outer body that consists it.
Love You
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 10:56 PM UTC
taste
like the feeling of walking out the door
and taking in that clean, bright air
slightly scented with chlorine
by the hot poolside
deep, sky blue water
so cool
wade in
green beans snapping in your mouth
sound
like that last step
meant to be stealthy
touching down on a landmine of twigs,
the falling
of a thousand miniature trees, in sequence
with an axe.
almost,
the juicy crackling of a
campfire, after it's consumed
that accidently drooping marshmallow.
forgive it
as it blackens, warps, and crumbles
it tried to hold on.
green beans snapping in your mouth
smell like dry
ice vapors, that float, free
as a spirit, undefined,
like glass shard cuts
of freshly mowed grass,
breathe in that vibrant green,
discarded and scattered
like an answer blowing in the wind
through the waves of a spring
field, full of thin whistling reeds,
hanging wind bells
on the eave,
dripping with rain.
Listen to the
sweet, nothing-tang tones
delicious
silent-music
can't quite describe
the sensation--
green beans snapping in your mouth
Apr 29, 2013
Apr 29, 2013 at 9:15 PM UTC
I accidently bumped
My hand against yours
You pulled away discreetly. It
must have been my fault
My condolences on
your sexuality
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 8:36 PM UTC
people are friends
to the bone
—bottomliners,
no human can drown,
but they can turn
from a solid to a liquid,
whose name is written on water,
whose laying facedown
on the topsoil?
lovely thunder today,
good weather for an airstrike,
the road is a gray tape
over magnetic fields,
too fragile to walk on,
a sudden Manhattan of the mind:
all of the buildings
are time passing fragments
in spawned harbinger,
accidently reacting like
a stream with bright fish
below the waste.
Jul 20, 2022
Jul 20, 2022 at 9:01 PM UTC
There once was a man named Pop,
Who always went out to mop.
He thought his mop was too chubby,
So he went to give it to Bubbie.
Bubbie went out to mop,
When suddenly, she halted to a stop.
She thought her mop was too thin,
So she dumped it back in the bin.
Bubbie accidently stepped in some glue,
But didn't know what to do.
Picking her foot up didn't work,
So she went to call the clerk.
The workers came rushing over,
As to playing the game red rover.
They went to get the mop,
And finally started to swap.
Bubbie's foot came twirling out,
When Pop walked out,
Cheering about.
He had been spying on Bubbie,
So she had gotten mad,
Pop had then realized,
What he had done was bad.
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 1:41 PM UTC
Today I got a new sketchbook with an embossed leaf on the cover-
saying-"Nature's Best."
And the inside was so white and clean
I was scared to draw in it
to mar the beautiful pages with the unforgiving
mark of a pencil.
Thinking that I wasn't worthy enough,
I didn't deserve
"Nature's Best."
The most beautiful song I've ever heard was sung by a German Choir,
and I remember thinking-
that maybe, German is a beautiful language after all
hidden only under the angry tones
of fighting and ugly
hurtful words.
Vogel im Kaff, it was called.
I'm not sure, but when I used Google translate-
it said-
"Word not found."
Maybe it wasn't in German after all.
And the people who tell me-
"Ugly."
"Fat."
"Why do you even live, anyway?
It's not like you deserve it."
I know. I know that I'm not worth anything
But sometimes, I actually catch myself in the mirror and think-
I look nice
I'm sorry. I'm sorry for thinking that. I'm sorry for hoping,
for believing.
I'm sorry.
And you know that feeling?
When you're in public
frantically searching for the right chord
on a piano song.
Sitting a spotlight undeserved
Playing for people who don't need to hear this
"music"
Like cracking open a egg and accidently mixing the yolk with the white
when you're trying to make a crème cake.
A desperate feeling that's sort of scary
because your brain knows that there's no way out.
I wish all minds had a delete button.
Throwing myself into learning different languages-
I thought that if I could speak
German, French, Italian-
then I would be exalted.
That somehow,
all of that would change my personality,
Who I was.
Guess we all have a "no refund" tag when we're born.
The type of people who-
"Belong everywhere, but don't fit in"
and the type who
"Don't belong anywhere-but fit in anyway-"
Which type am I?
A leafed page of the book,
folded over to conceal ***** words.
You know, if you look at a picture long enough,
what you once thought was beautiful will begin to peel and fade
exposing its unperfected innards.
If it's that scary to look at something already "satisfying"
what would it be like to look at something not even close to perfection?
Jul 28, 2013
Jul 28, 2013 at 11:44 PM UTC
I love to play lake monster,
And swim around the floating docks,
And grab people and make them squeal and giggle.
You need to wear goggles, because the water is murky,
from people kicking up the silt wit there feet,
We take turns, but I like being the lake monster best.
Because we only have one pair of good goggles,
And the lake monster gets them,
And I love to swim under water, and pretend I'm a mermaid,
But one that plays tricks, and tickles people, and pulls them under,
Accidently they sometimes swallow a gulp of water,
And choke, and I feel bad...
But the lake monster dives away,
And I catch them again another day.
Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 11:42 AM UTC
The age-old rhetorical question:
bask in hedonism or preserve innocense?
Shamelessly flirt
and makeout with hotties on the beach
or stay quiet and "moral,"
which is really code for "I'm afraid?"
Is a kiss with a stranger
really a kiss?
Or merely brushing lips against other lips,
maybe accidently,
gently,
couldn't be any harm, right?
Or would my first kiss with a stranger who holds no relevence to my life
be a life-long regret?
Would not cutting loose and being "loose" be a regret too?
So uptight
my hair is forever permed,
let it down and lank
will I still be me?
Would I still have self-respect?
Would others respect me?
Urges are strong
but will they ruin everything?
Jun 5, 2012
Jun 5, 2012 at 6:07 PM UTC
I never had the confidence
When I was small
To tell on my cousin
Because I woke up to him trying to touch me while I sleep
Or peeking through the cracks of the door when I dressed.
I never had the confidence
As we grew older
To unlock my door during the day
Because I knew he would just push me around
Because “boys will be boys”
And these bruises on my body
Showed that he would always get his way.
I once had the confidence
When I was fourteen
To tell the principle that one boy held me against a wall
While the other put his hands down the front of my shirt
But the principle called me a liar
That the boy just slipped and fell down the hall
And his hands accidently landed in my shirt.
I was told to be silent
I didn’t have the confidence
When I was sixteen
To tell my boyfriend no
Again and Again
So after the first few times saying it
He thought I was giving him my consent
So I “let” him **** me.
I didn’t have the confidence
For the next three years
Because he said I was helpless
I spoke too much
I was weak
I need a man to take care of me
No one else could ever love me
And I believed him
I didn’t have the confidence
Until someone told me
That it’s a beautiful thing to be a woman
That I’m important
That I have a voice.
I now have the confidence
To stop listening to excuses
To not have to say “no” more than once
To be free because I know how it feels to say goodbye
Because I am important
Because I have a voice.
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 7:17 PM UTC
I hope you accidently **** in front of your date
I hope when you're on a diet you're still gaining weight
I hope your red shirt dyes your white clothes pink
I hope when you're at the bar you always get the wrong drink
I hope you forget the words whenever you hold a speech
I hope there's no spots left when you go to the beach
I hope you run out of matches when you need a smoke
I hope nobody laughs at your funniest jokes
I hope that when you shave you'll quickly get all furry
I hope you miss the train everytime you're in a hurry
I hope your fruits and vegetables gets bad really quick
I hope your one night stand hasn't showered when you choke on his ****
Aug 6, 2016
Aug 6, 2016 at 8:31 AM UTC
A TRIBUTE TO MY UNIQUE MOM
I would love to tell you,
About my unique mother,
Not SHE but HE is my true from other,
Yes! HE,
i accidently met him in my school,
i so underestimated his love, i was fool.
He loves me , He cares for me,
He tries for me, he cries for me,
He teachs in the amazing easiest form
That I never ever thinked of ,
I learn that things so easily ,
That sometimes I feels if I had wings to off,
He helped me out whenever
His help I sought,
He apologies even on my faults.
A unique mom with pure soul
Yes he treats me like a baby doll
For the soul with unselfishness thoughts
I got everything he brought,
i kissed him on his cheeks
that feel i never felt before,
he grabbed my waist and left me with that seek,
His flawless love for me as his child,
With the the pure heart and love so mild,
His hands on my head at night
makes me sleep with love so devine,
He don’t only calls me his bachhaa in miss
I actually feels that when he use to kiss,
That’s the only sure affection
I think its bliss…
second time we met in a restro, he bought a ring
after thinking a lot, i accepted that ring and gave him my everything
once, I suddenly hug him so tightly
That my head takes place
In his chest so nicely.
Yes he’s my love too
But before that he have to love me so,’.
He didn’t get irritated with me ,
As a mother never use to be.
His hug gives me the whole rest,
Yes! for me his hands are best,
With the perfect sleep it fills
There is no need me to take any pills.
My real mumma even don’t care of my crust,
But my mumma don’t take his meal
Without me to have it first,
My real mummma don’t even know
When I cry,
And mumma! he feels my breathing so high,
He knows how to control my fast breath,
In a seconds he use to vanish it.
Hes arms takes me to the heaven,
But the only heaven I want ,
because
Not that one the god had given.
Please god let me live with this flaw,
I don’t wanna leave and cant even go!
i love you pratik
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 6:20 AM UTC
It's in the sequence
within the space
on the slow turn
at the touch of the page
it's more than the optic
less than didactic
much more tactile,
less than merely mercantile
it's more immersive,
deeply collaborative
a match that's unconventional
beyond art, words and materials
avoiding any deference,
embracing our difference
flicking 2 fingers
without fear of irreverence
it's greater than the sum
of its many surprising parts
more than what was found in
the inspirational, original art
and whether it's deliberate
or accidently incidental
these are books as art,
beyond the coffee table
May 16, 2019
May 16, 2019 at 12:24 PM UTC
I've Realized,
I've Slowly Grown To Have A Permanent Scoul,
Which Sits Upon My Face,
Ive Realized,
Every Play Is A Foul,
My Happiness Coming Unlaced,
I'm Tired Of Pep Talks,
I'm Tired Of Encouragement,
Im Tired Of Getting Pelted With Emotional Rocks,
Energy Thinned From No Supply Of Nourishment,
I'm Sorry To Everyone,
Because I Have Grown To Be Bitter,
I'm Angered Because I Feel I Have No Freedom,
I'm Sorry I Am So Bitter
Let Me Be,
I'm Fine With Lying Through My Teeth,
I Don't Care If I'm A Snot,
I'm Tired Of People Pretending They Are Not,
Im Sorry To People Who Accidently Step On Me,
I Yell At You Because I Am Internally Angry,
I'm Sorry For Snapping,
Because I Fantasize About Being In The Woods,
Napping,
I Need To Let It Out,
I Need To Cry,
But You Shout,
If I Even Try,
I'm Sorry To My Friends,
I'm Ready To Burst,
I Promise This Will End,
But I Need To Blow My Fuse First
Let Me Talk To You,
It Will Only Take Me 10 Minutes,
I Need To Scream At You,
I Haven't Forgotten Yet,
I Need To Get Away,
I'm Tired Of These Kinds Of Days,
Pouring Out My Pain On A Blank Page,
I'm Sorry I Am So In Rage,
Its Only Because Every Thorn Wants To Poke,
Where There Is Already A Scrape,
Whenever I Start To Sing I Choke,
I Want To Feel Great,
Just Like The Old Times...
I'm Sorry I'm So Bitter,
I'll Try To Runaway From What I Have Become,
I'm Sorry I'm So Bitter,
I Feel Like Some Kind Of ****
I'm Sorry Im So Bitter,
I'm Sorry I've Been So Dumb
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 8:38 PM UTC