"adamantly" poems
When someone praises me
I'm like a deer
under headlights
Of course I'm delighted
beaming,
even
But I really don't know-
how to respond
...
Do I brush it off?
Act like it's
not a big deal
whether or not
it really is
And move on
to another
subject?
...
Do I just stay quiet
Look down shyly,
and smile?
Or just let the conversation
pass me by?
...
Do I adamantly
reject it?
Refuse, and insist
to the point
that the person
before me
ends up
fighting with me
about
it?
...
Do I roll with it,
faking non-existent
confidence?
Owning up to it,
sometimes
in a joking manner?
...
Do I immediately
switch the topic
to praising
the one
who praised me?
Or have them talk
about themselves
to turn
the
attention from me?
...
Or, do I just smile
large and wide
and thank
the person?
...
I don't know
and it irritates me
that I can even have trouble
with something
as lovely
as a compliment
...
It's not
negative
hurtful
or even
a criticism
...
So why does it
bother me?
...
Maybe
...
I care too much
about what others
think of
me
Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 9:15 PM UTC
Her poems are like
sound waves
they can't help the shape they make
arcing, cresting, jagging scores into the sky then
crashing
into smaller crescendos and puddles
refusing to stay still
adamantly holding their shape then
suddenly relenting
into smaller
smaller
lines
Then it HITS, her thoughts
They rip through the message finally clear
not even sure how my brain processes
these tiny wave forms not really sure
how these shapes make me feel
not sure how the words
can drift into my head
and make me feel
something
anythi
ng
.
.
.
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 10:35 AM UTC
"Wala pay sulod atong sako Nay.”
Sack of rice is empty
Stomach rumbling mercilessly
Mind is hazy, breathing sporadically
Cold porridge is a feast.
“Go home!” says Mama sternly
Frantic, frightened, panicky
Rocks hurled, bullets fly
Blood splatters; running aimlessly
We dodge our way to safety
Cold porridge is a feast.
“I will not,” I say adamantly
She looks at the sack mournfully
Empty. Devoid of sanity.
Cold porridge is a feast.
“We’ll get some soon. Don’t worry.”
“I don’t believe you.”
I feel weak, I am crabby
I’m staying despite this misery
Cold porridge is a feast.
Childlike will, piety of soul
Purity of intention, pursuit of living whole
Cold porridge is a feast.
Nov 1, 2016
Nov 1, 2016 at 6:56 AM UTC
A Softer Way to Die
We live and study life
We pray that somehow
God changes his rules.
No one wants to die
No one wants to follow
Those complicated laws;
I mean no lie-ing - no steal-ing
no *** - before marriage no
Fornicate-ing, no kill-ing
No lust-greed or defil-ing the earth.
Amen.
All we can do now is try to find
" A softer way to die".
Pick your battles...
There are many ways to die.
I asked, God why?
When mom threw a
"Monkey wrench" in my world
Answering - "We all have to die"
I immediately winked at God...
Thinking to myself ( not I) .
Gave him a little nudge;
Sidebar God : I said to God
Adamantly "I do not want to die"
"Can you change the rules "?
I never heard back from him
On that subject..
I went to him again
God "Can you at least
Keep me with a mom-
I said "So that I won't be an
Orphan like Shirley Temple" ?
He did get back to me on that
And Mom is Alive and well
Plan A. ( living forever)
Still not executed.
Once again contemplating
Thoughts on how I want to die.
I could not think of a pleasant way
To die, none that seemed appealing.
Nor any options that would be fun.
hmmm, eat myself to death.
Playing chicken with the train,
Might prove thrilling.
As time grew nigh
My thoughts continued
....On a softer way to die.
Childhood gone, middle age gone'
Old age approaching fast and furious
Destroying me like a sudden
Approaching hurricane...
This storm knocked out my lights
Memory gone now..
Forgetting my life- my loved ones
Forgetting my friends,
Children,and foes alike
Forgetting my wrongs - my sins
and accomplishments all.
Everything's gone. So now
What do I do ?... How can
I rewrite my life,Take account..
Of that which I remember not.
The realities of my existence
Has been wiped out from
The Forest Fires burning
In my minds eye.
Have no recordings of
Who loved me or of who
I shall never forgive.
How will I know that I ever even lived.
Taking my dark blank pages into
The after life- My shadowy
Existence ends. I feel no pain
I Have no thoughts,
Have nothing to contemplate.
For I have asked to live forever
Or that I die a,softer way
Forgetting to eat
Forgetting to drink-
Forgetting to swallow
Forgetting to breath...
Forgetting this life-
I close my eyes and fade away.
painlessly
© Vicki Acquah
Oct 14, 2015
Oct 14, 2015 at 7:49 AM UTC
For You- Butch my friend from Philippines ocean away to Cali U.S.A
FRIENDSHIP is like Red Rose in my Garden.
It is not the sum -total on how many it BLOOMED
but unfathomable beneath the ROOTS thriving & Sprouting.
Purview as Emoting little some Some,
little Bored,
little Depleted
little sad, or yielding to the Inevitable!
Languish to anguish perhaps from lack of vitamin 'ME"..Ahah!
Thereby stayed in touch, in Tuned
following the thread with ME.
My Friend so close yet Afar.
Truly Extraordinary,
wonderfully Smiling
and adamantly Affirms:
"You are D apple of my Eye!"
Every time WE see eye to eye in social networking called Facebook
Through Cyber Space
The abounding witty comments of "OMG's," "Ohhs "and 'AAhhs"
makes everyone amused with Awe of such silly antics we so accorded!
A blessing, a gift from God.
So unusual Diamonds so Alike
a rare atypical like it!
..so Uncommon
Not Phony friends out there to deceive & Decry..
Succumb unlikely in Waterloo!
But You definitely a Diamond to my passion!
As girl's BFF, a Buddy or a Sweet chum or Dude!
Not a Foe but Pal Forever.
And just to let You Know , my Friend,
You are like a Diamond so brilliant
Found like a rare gemstone from a dust
who is never be a mere coincidence to bring JOY & Delight
to the norm & Conform.
So for now.. priceless friend like You..is for me to treasure the friendship between Us.
Thank you, my Friend,
I will always be here & there for You as a Friend in Deed!
Aug 7, 2011
Aug 7, 2011 at 11:57 PM UTC
Adamantly indifferent
To a life lead without happiness
Letting time pass by unappreciated
As if that is what it is meant for
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 4:58 PM UTC
*You spoke adamantly of gentle courage
and sharing spring's flourished nectar,
the swooning rhythm of swaying trees
and the easeful breezes that flow
'tween endearment's sensibilities,
misty moonbows 'neath dusk's stormy skies
lavender sunsets midst rosy horizons,
affectation surging amid life's turmoils
wallowing in self indulgence &
the harmony of olive branch surrender
and thrumming heart strings of patience,
it was then I comprehended, darkness doesn't
last a lifetime when lit by love's fortitude*
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 7:23 AM UTC
To the men who talk down to me
As though I am helpless
Because the parts of my body.
You do not know the meaning of helpless
Until you are being stared straight in the face by fear
Like looking down the barrel of a gun
It's hands strapped around your breathless throat
Point blank range
Eyes closed.
You wait for it to fire
You know it's coming
Words, usually starting with
"We need to talk"
Or
"You better sit down."
You know it can't be good
As tears fill her once shining eyes
And those stars fall into the ocean.
Then you learn very quickly
Almost by instinct
That everyone you love must die.
Helpless is when comforting your mother
Makes you a seamstress.
Stitching her together while you yourself are composed of
False hope
Fading memories
Fear.
Helplessness is when behind this gun is the face of a man
A man you prayed you could trust
But he violates you
Colors your view of the opposite ***
From the time you are seven years old
He ties the noose that you continually hang yourself with
In the years to come.
Helplessness is when you tell yourself you have moved on but
No matter how much therapy they inject into your veins
No matter how many drugs they try to numb you out with
Influence spreads like a virus
Into every area of your life
But since you have become so distantly removed
So adamantly avoidant of this looming secret
Like smoke rising to the ceiling
You notice something lower itself
Whenever you have to face this head on again:
Fear.
See it is a cycle
Helplessness is a cycle
And it always ends in fear
How can I remove myself from this circle?
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 12:58 AM UTC
I didn’t know you could suppress something
so adamantly and at the same time feel it
so deeply, so completely.
My Head and my Heart are both
positively charged parts and they push
and push
and they squeeze,
Trying to reconcile like a
Mother and Daughter after Daughter says
“mamma, I’m not a ****** anymore”,
Wanting desperately to be given the a-okay and
rush together with a clap so strong
it would make people roll up their car windows and
call in their cats
cause there’s about to be a storm.
It’s already got winds up to 50 knots and
I haven’t even allowed it a breeze yet!
My rebellious child,
so unruly without Mother’s consent,
How will she react when Mother finally says,
“Alright child, you can come out now, it’s safe for us outside”.
But she hasn't heard the weather report and
She hasn't called her cats inside and
I’m afraid
because when that day comes
We’ll be the ones blindly content
in the trees near the flagpole by the lake,
because our sanity is no longer at stake.
And we’ll get struck by lightning.
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 2:33 AM UTC
I know a bitter man,
Bitter he grew from being a sweet boy,
Butter he applied to things but it didn't work out,
That bitter man here is me who often chews bitter tablets.
Fearing love I have gotten experienced the bitter way,
Know I not of any other love in any other better way.
Oh how I know about myself apparently adamantly,
I know myself but nobody as good - no better man.
Just a poem inspired by reality.
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 6:09 PM UTC
1.This wheelchair never was a River,
even when powered, it did splutter
yes, it's equivalent in movements,
listening silently it always sits out,
away from the flow to the ecstatic sea.
A wheel chair is a caricature of loneliness.
2.Ever tried to see it for what it really is?
"We don't remember, doesn't catches the eye"
Not like a chair of any other kind easily does,
A chair regal looks up, straight at the face
in the manner it demands what it wants,
"Let me tell you this, listen or leave"
3.A wheel chair keeps on looking at it's
arrested feet apologetically and sighs,
if you have an inner ear sensitive, hear this,
I am not even a chair, an apology
for movement,spoken in a voice stiffed.
It speaks incessantly, in a voice within itself,
wordless to a world, that has closed it's doors.
4.A wheelchair easily forgets things as
it can't keep bitterness alive always.
who cares to speak a few words to a wheelchair?
all it is to be done is push it in silence through aisles .
from a destination of pain to any other, slightly higher.
Stairs of every kind, for a wheelchair is a foreign land.
5.Yet in impeded wheelchairs moves many a dream,
broken before their time or crusted with force.
Or remains of a day, too long and busily spent.
On every wheelchair a heart adamantly beats,
"I would, I would" it beats with a rare grit.
Apr 17, 2017
Apr 17, 2017 at 9:44 AM UTC
I aimlessly drifted in teenage years,
From subtle scion to zaftig plebe.
Seen phony glory, vanquished fears,
And the stench of a wicked glebe.
From below, saw the stars up high,
Igniting horizons with callow wonder.
Beheld colossal beauty with mine inner eye,
Begged for chained thoughts asunder.
Amidst the serene flock to be slain,
Oft' a titan, seldom a vacant savant.
Known sorrow, elation, gain, vain, pain,
This mortal hour, hear joyful lament.
How quick we are to bid farewell,
How slow for friendship to pierce the cloth.
The rhythmic ache of that darkened knell,
The sobbing whimpers for a lover's warmth.
Nix for reciprocated amity, yet!
My seat of affection thrives in twilight.
Herein discipline is adamantly set,
Whence shall this ****** ire take flight?
Into the night that covers my soul,
Unleash that verdant star I see.
The divine abyss have taken its toll,
I pray the shadow is only me.
Note the ease to neglect one's clan,
Yet savored glee of reunions by blood.
Fury cease my elder ties, an infant plan,
By filial ardor, I still kneel in mud.
Star-shine ablaze onto vivid blooms,
Arise the stench of broiling debris.
Beauteous summer-tide metronomes,
The sinking scythe follow gales of peace.
Labor come sweat yield sweet fruition,
Tis annual come the bronze harvest.
Wrongful vengeance seek humble redemption,
Autumn under siege of well-fed zest.
Stormy vista rime graying meadows,
Entrench the sepsis by the ice age.
Taste weeping woe of guilty widows,
Lest their beloved hunger in cage.
Arise young lilac out of barren frosts,
Touch the vital aura to begin anew.
Altruists gladly pay auric costs,
To stalk vile leviathan into dew.
May stones bear indistinct distinction,
So my stride shall stumble and falter.
Peace paint heroes of sluggish fiction,
Chaos rouse prodigies from quiet slumber.
Aug 28, 2010
Aug 28, 2010 at 5:12 AM UTC
Because my mom once said,
Life is a journey
And it won’t be that sturdy.
Crawl like a creeper
Or dance like a tapper,
It would let you decide
But still will push you over the tide.
There will be a day
It will hold you back,
Fight the tears
Dread the day
There is a light in you
Don’t see others fly away,
You are there to fight the grey.
Those who’ll go out of your sight
Could not make your home bright,
Don’t count on people
They are not for you,
Look up to those stars
That’s where you can hide your scars.
There will be days
When all you’ll sense would be darkness,
Don’t forget to look through it
Colors will be waiting
To fill your emptiness.
Feel the breeze
Open your arms,
Drink the rain,
Love the wind,
Let the smell of the flowers
Cover you,
Let the music of the birds
Be your language,
All you will learn is to smile
Because all days won’t be alike.
Because my mom once said,
Promises are like rivers
They don’t have any shape,
They begin from an end
And those ends seldom meet.
Don’t wait for any soul
Winds are born to be blown,
What they take
And what they leave
Is another story
Little told and so untold.
There will be days
When you’ll get tired
You’ll crave for love
You’ll wait for someone to hold you,
Breathe and begin again
Because some cries go in vain.
It won’t warn you before the fire
Not even when you will be half burnt.
It won’t collect the ashes
But that end
It will go in your name.
Because my mom once said,
Life is like a game.
You’ll never win
But you won’t mind losing in the end,
This loss would bear what you are
Like a mirror to your sabotage.
It won’t flow with happiness
You’ll be the struggler
And you’ll have to be the believer.
Because those who don’t believe
Throughout they bleed.
Even when you don’t find the reasons
Remember, autumn is also a season.
Beauty is not in fulfillment
It’s in half said quotes
Musical notes
Unsung melodies
Quite soliloquies.
Happiness is not in the balloon that flies high
It’s in the wings of those nestlings
Who so adamantly try,
It is not in victories
But joyful histories
Curious mysteries
Unexplained madness
Self created sadness.
Because my mom once said
This life is your creation
A battle without destination.
Catch all the butterflies
Live all your cries
Rise like someone will catch you,
Fall like someone will push you.
Because one day you’ll start this journey
All over again
Not because this won’t be enough
Enough is never the word
It’s always more and even more
But because you’ll once again become my sword
And I’ll not hold you ever
I’ll let you sway.
Because my mom once said,
I am born the brightest sunray
Life is just a child’s play.
-Prachi Bhardwaj
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 11:36 PM UTC
I have been denied such honor to explore thy flesh. I long for the day that it shall be mine to cherish. Savoring every inch, savoring every scent.
I'll thank God adamantly for a gift such as this.
Once permitted, I shall lay thy sweet vessel upon thy pillow and ravish thy flesh until my hearts content.
Whispering sweet, wicked things in thine ear. No decent mortal being would ever want to hear.
Seizing thy body, as it is mine to clame.
Peeling away what stands between I and my domain.
Passion nearly lost, beholding what was underneath. So much desirability, you hid beneath.
Such seduction, such physique. Deny me this not for satiation you will reap.
Stand before me now. So I may admire thy beauty. Appreciation is yours for the taking.
Come to me my dearie. Allow me the honor to have thee.
Forcing your body to the wall. Muttering, I must have it all.
Without delay. I rest a kiss on thy divine lips. Soaking in your taste, ah such sweet bliss you possess.
Drawing you closer as I relish this moment. My temptation has won, finally bested.
As our passion heats, goosebumps do meet.
Your skin tingling, feeling your craved relief.
To late to cease. I must have this sweet, sweet release. Laying you down, preparing my feast...
My coming Honor.
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 4:21 PM UTC
How can you admit to someone you love them
When you can barely admit it to you
This love you so adamantly condemn
That won't disappear no matter what you do
No matter what you say no matter what you think
This love stays solid and never grows weak
You tell yourself it's gone you tell yourself it's over
That the beauty has disappeared from the eye of the beholder
But this is not true and you know it quite well
That feeling like you are under a spell
The spell of their laugh, the spell of their smile
The spell of their personality that makes life worthwhile
You love them, you love them, stop denying this fact
Start living it and now start planning your attack:
I love you, I love you—these three simple words
Consume my thoughts; control my world
I wish I could be strong and that I could believe
That you would say yes, that you could love me
But I am not strong, not in that regard
So I shall keep these feelings, these thoughts locked inside my heart.
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 5:26 PM UTC
The light cast through the window pain
Reflecting off the dirt and rain
Caused images that waxed and waned
Surreal scenes that seemed to feign
The cool demise of bygone shame
A demure euphemistic glow
That adamantly tries to show
Ethereum it longs to know
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 4:10 AM UTC
A year ago today my grandfather passed away, but he did not die. He lives.. and if you want to find him, find him within the crevices of my actions, my tenacity, and success. Crouch down and find him underneath all that I believe in, all I stand for, and all I will accomplish. Open me up and find him in everything that empowers me. He is the fight inside me.
Abuelo, a year ago you passed away, but you did not die. Your story radiates through my reality. Because of you I wear Cuba on my sleeve and I made sure that when you passed you did not take our story with you. Abuelo, I knew you were of Cuban pride, but I did not know that the shop you struggled to open is what allowed Cuban culture to cultivate so strongly in Elizabeth, NJ. I did not know you gave refugees gold jewelry for free so they could sell it for profit, and that you trusted them to pay you back whenever they could and settled that on a handshake. I did not know you were part of an organization of Cubans. I didn't know that hundreds of men revered you within that organization. I did not know you can make a room full of grown men cry. I learned this at your funeral.
A year ago my grandfather passed away, but he did not die. I am here, in the US, succeeding without financial burden. I am here because he left everything behind, including old friends, a successful business, his money and his culture. I am here because he took all four of his children with him. I am here because he refused to stop there. I am here because he had deep-seeded ambition and pushed through every challenge with his chest out and his head adamantly on his shoulders. I am here, I am happy, and I am secure--And because of that, he lives.
Abuelo, I must confess I took some things from you without asking. In the pocket of my heart I hold your ambition. In the pocket of my conscience I hold your integrity. Abuelo, you are in peace, but never will you be put to rest. Not within my lifetime.
Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 4:54 PM UTC
A zero on its own may hold no value
But add a zero to 10 and behold you get a 100
And the value of zero seems to increase exponentially
Just think in terms of 100,000, add a zero and walla! it's 1,000,000
So, it gives rise to the question
What is really the value of zero
Does Zero mean nothing?
Or does it depend on how you place it?
What if a manager said, 'the production showed zero growth rate'
Would the management shout in glee or consider firing?
Is it silly to think zero is valueless when logically
adding zero at the end of any number only makes it more by tens?
Yes, I'm certifiably crazy but that is not the point!
The point is life is full of paradoxes
So why is that we adamantly stick to one theory of belief
When any number of theories could be true or not
like birth and death and yes of course 'God'!
Aug 30, 2013
Aug 30, 2013 at 4:39 AM UTC
Slow down.
There was a skip in my heart.
Did our lips just touch?
Why are we already apart?
I didn't even get to appreciate.
Oh how soon acceleration breaks.
Slow down.
I don't even think Cupid had the time,
To witness this moment,
To admire his own complex design.
You swore indecision, adamantly.
I'll change that in a moment, or two or three.
Slow down.
Maybe next time I can make the request,
Just to linger a little while longer,
To leave our lips pressed.
So we can let loose our inhibitions.
So I can get lost in this acquisition.
Slow down.
May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 3:45 PM UTC
Staying and not giving up is brevity,
And I have a lot of that within me,
Developed even more with time.
This – all of this – is just a challenge,
Have not I faced more serious time,
At the doors of hell trapped was me,
Thermal oven my forehead became.
Yes, unnatural temperatures of fever,
Off my forehead rose moist fumes,
Underrated my chances of living.
Greatly influenced by my loneliness,
A strength of bearing just anything,
Very pure are such lovely feelings,
Escaping I am never my destiny.
Understood I never why you gave up,
Plus I see you adamantly remain same.
Nov 18, 2016
Nov 18, 2016 at 4:38 PM UTC
I have never enjoyed
the rain as much as I did
the night I bumped
into you
walking adamantly
to a destination
that I wished
conjoint
with mine
Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 10:56 AM UTC
I keep dreaming of falling.
Sinking through clouds and bleeding skies,
The winds don't hold me and oxygen chokes me.
I wish you'd taught me how to fly.
Is a home still a home when your hat rack is gone?
Does the sun still rise without the dawn?
I'd paint the sunset, but I've lost my muse,
I'd claw at my heart, but you took that too.
I'd forget about you, but memories haunt me,
They creep into my bed, whispering softly,
Remember when we broke your mom's TV?
Or our anniversary, on April Seventeenth?
I'd pay for your piano lessons so you could sing to stars,
Okay so maybe not stars, but surely fast moving cars?
How about a trip to Eiffel Tower far off in Rome,
Fine, I guess we could always see that from home.
Your books don't make me smile, come back to bed,
You'll be just a minute, hold on, you said,
I held on to your silk quilt and fell asleep,
You said you'd follow me, before I was in too deep.
You should have told me you'd fall asleep differently,
That I would wake, and that you would stay,
I mean sure, I would have protested adamantly,
But then I'd have no choice but to let you stay.
I guess now we'll never get to see the Eiffel Tower,
It's fine anyway; I hear the air up there is sour.
And we'll never get to sing to fast moving cars,
It's okay; at least this way no potential scars.
I fixed your mom's broken TV screen,
And I got a new apartment down in Queens,
Your phone keeps on uninstalling,
And I keep dreaming of falling.
Jan 29, 2017
Jan 29, 2017 at 1:08 AM UTC
His demise, caused by his mind,
Was hardly fair.
But the universe doesn't cater,
Neither does it care.
My father, oh father,
You once had much to say;
But you lost hold of your mind,
On one fateful day.
Your sickness,
It was adamantly there,
That's why I won't complain about this burden,
Which is wholly mine to bear.
Deep down in the ground,
You now lay,
And I wish I'd known you more, for
All I have are distant memories of play.
Little boy,
Dutiful father,
Playing together,
Without a bother.
I know where you hid,
Where you went,
You became lost in your mind,
Wholly spent.
But still,
Sometimes I let myself ponder,
What we could have had together,
If you mind was not forced to wander
Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 2:25 PM UTC