"adoringly" poems
I’m going through withdrawals. How awful it is to have to keep yourself from speaking to someone because you know if they wanted to speak to you, they would. I’m so deeply rooted in the sand that no waves that crash on land could overturn me. Your footprints are leading away from me, you are moving further and further down the shoreline, your outline growing smaller, smaller, smaller, blending in with the horizon where the sun is setting in lovely shades of red. I do not fear that you will not be loved, because even now I see how the birds adoringly sing your name. I fear the drops of saltwater that fall down my face each solemn night will one day be able to collect into ocean of their own. I fear the birds will be able to love you better than I have. I fear that this titanic amount of heaviness weighing on my heart will be ever-present. Your name is written in the clouds, and I cannot escape it, for no matter how far I run, I can never escape the sky. When I look up, there it is and so are you.
Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 10:25 PM UTC
No matter how many times I'm called beautiful
or pretty, of gorgeous, or any other comment,
I will always cry when I hear the name
You try to call me adoringly...
It is dead.
I bury it here
In the words.
I write its tombstone.
May 3, 2021
May 3, 2021 at 10:52 AM UTC
TEACHING TIMOTHY TO READ
( for Maureen )
She is teaching Timothy
to read
even though she
can't read herself.
Tongue firmly in cheek
she traces the words
with a tiny fingertip
that knows the story
off by heart she
could read it in the dark.
She is "pretending reading."
She has my every nuance and pause
by rote
making great efforts
to teach Timothy
the puppy
but Timothy the puppy
is more interested in
the un-thrown stick.
Timothy the puppy thinks this reading lark is
strictly for the humans.
"Once..." she begins
in a Fairy Tale-ish voice.
Timothy the puppy
barks in acknowledgement.
"Throwthestickthrowthestick!"
Timothy the Puppy's mind thinks.
"...upon a time
a long long time
...ago!"
Timothy the puppy looks
adoringly at his little mistress
with such an immensity of love and
licks her finger as it
travels over the words
the story's journey.
"Oh you..!" she scolds
"...are not even paying attention!"
"It's no good...I give up!"
she frowns at the unhappy creature
throwing the book away
in a prissy hissy fit.
Timothy the puppy
full of the joys of
a dog's life
( it's the only life he knows )
chases the fluttering pages
that fly like an exotic bird
brings Hans Christian Anderson back
his mouth full of words.
Oct 16, 2018
Oct 16, 2018 at 5:42 PM UTC
Her voice, sweeter than buttercream
- Salty words won’t pucker her song,
Honey bees follow her adoringly -
The kindest person ever to come along
Her legs, thick with gorgeous muscle
- A tornado couldn't knock her down,
Tree trunks turn green with jealousy -
She's the strongest person in town
Her eyes, alight with warm welcome
- a blackout wouldn't dim her glow,
Lesser stars shrink away in envy -
She's the friendliest person to know
She’ll protect anyone who needs it,
Forgive the most egregious slight
Faced with anger, she won't feed it
Full of grace, she’s everything right
Sadly, he won’t go the way of Earl
But who wouldn’t cheer his self-demise
He who siphoned power, stifled song
And stole the laughter from her eyes
Somehow, she’s still tornado strong
The bees know she’ll sing once more
Her trust might need a little time but
When she’s ready, glowing, she’ll soar
NCL August 2019
Aug 1, 2019
Aug 1, 2019 at 3:09 PM UTC
click click
i was bound to your
love
like chains on
a dead corpse
you held the gun
to my forehead
as i adoringly
fell in love with you
so hypnotised
drawn by your
kisses
my invitation
(shåi)
Jan 10, 2018
Jan 10, 2018 at 12:43 PM UTC
The dreamer is breathless as he clutches his chest
These feelings amuck inexplicable at its best
Managing a gasp and finally drawing his air
Never thought it possible, these feelings he'd share.
It's been long since he'd last uttered the deal breaker
Expecting hate and regret, yet receiving love so tender
It softens him so, lifting him way up high
It blinded him so, fighting it he never did try.
On swift magical wings, down to him she had swooped
With kind loving hands, his time-worn body she adoringly scooped
Into her warm comforting chest, the dreamer would retreat
He finds comfort in a sound; the rhythm of her heart beat.
Chest to chest, soul to soul, their hearts beat as one
He looks up teary eyed, he looks up at his sun
She gazes upon him like she's known him forever
He stares up at her and says, "There can be no other".
Together they took flight to destinations unknown
Their love they would want, to carve immortal into stone
They had cared not for the whims of the universe
Submerged themselves deep in love's sweet murmurs.
This thing in his chest badly wants to sing
Of words so sweet, of melodies so endearing
It wants to say true words of praise
Whisper promises of an Eden-like place.
The dreamer worships his sun as he'd found his dream
Dreams of rolling meadows and night's silvery moonbeam
He whispered of feelings that he believed to be his
He presented them to her as she's the only one he sees.
I am the dreamer who never truly wants to wake
Hopeful of a life that this dream could possibly make
I still am the dreamer who believes it'll all come true
I am the silly little dreamer who's madly in love with you.
Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 3:13 AM UTC
Where it all started...
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2018179/only-a-dumbass-man-could-love-a-smartass-poodle/
<•>
The Obvious Fact: Dogs Have Souls
******** poodle, of prior fame, suggests*
"surely this ditty will trend before one reads to the very end"
1. as everyone loves dogs
2. especially smart poodles
3. who writes soulful poems
really, here we are talking and you are gazing into my brown eyes adoringly,
and
you humans
still debate if there is a
god?"*
and then dog yawned,
a gigundo doggy yawn,
which is a supernatural,
miraculous biblical thing to behold
<•>
for no reason other than gravity
man says,
sometimes my earbuds fall out of my ears,
without provocation, of their own accord,
to remind that though they're in,
the music isn't in,
and neither
am I anywhere real, concrete,
existential,
to be found
which prompts a furious philosophical poodle to man discourse,
as to my exact whereabouts
badass poodle quotes Joan Baez (Diamonds and Rust):
"My poetry was lousy you said,"
and to verify my geo-physical locus,
and his opinion of the human's written hocus pocus
poetry,
gentle farts and adds, low growling,
"there your are!"
how I love that
centered, down to earth,
in my bed, in my heart
dog
<•>
"Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action."
Goldfinger
a favorite phrase from a movie of one's youth.
that rises to the surface, when smartass-u-know-who
reads my weak human mind and yes,
farts twice more, adding poetically:
*"the best things in life always
come in threes,
her, me, and you"*
"glad to be included," I replied,
to which he licked his
privates publicly,
adding lowly,
*"every smart poodle need a leashed human,
as if any self-respecting poodl could or would
type their own poems,
who's
the *** now!"*
and we got up, got the leash
(for human to carry)
put our earbuds in,
went for a sunrise
sniff-walk-and-compose
on the beach
the two **********
arguing
which Pandora station to turn on,
two only love poets, both thinking of their shared
her
finally, compromising, in tail wagging agreement on,
The Righteous Brothers
<•>
p.s. lol, only a ******* man could love a ******** poodle.
~
8:33am
8/11/17
Aug 11, 2017
Aug 11, 2017 at 6:32 PM UTC
They say something is truly computerized
yes or no? yes or no ?
which one? which one?
BETTER throw a dice if you wanna know
but no
it is a BIG YES of course!
that’s what they should be saying - truly
THEY.
WE -
however -
we don’t have a proof
that it truly is so
and we never may have
and actually we don’t even need to spend our time to find out
if they are right or wrong
It is more important to understand why we discuss this matter here now
and we can explain the reasons in two basic steps:
1- believe not and do not become a blind believer -
to whoever - to whatever- no matter who - no matter what -
there is no one who can tell you the truth
but you -
you may not need to like it all - but
that’s always for a good reason -
if you make it good
2- understand what is of essence now - thus - the thing- maybe a poem- maybe a result of a competition - maybe this - maybe that -
why that specific thing comes to my/your attention now
So
it does not matter
if it is computerized or not -
what matters is
I see it and it communicates with me
and with my senses
and is at my attention
it manifests itself to me here now where I truly am
does not matter how it manifests - but it matters that it manifests
and the answer to why
is by my experience creating an action -
Only what I can neutrally and non-judgmentally witness I can purely experience -
and purity
has surpassed frights
and purity
has no addictions
and purity
does not swing from moon to sun
but remains centralized-
and purity
needs no temporary replacement that serves to escape from one pain- discomfort to another
but purity is ultimate self - is itself by itself
therefore what is presented to me here now is not other than what my consciousness is manifesting as -
it is not a test -because we have passed all the tests -
there is no teacher other than the self-
it is such that we are moving on -
on a path of knowing of our own true nature
And now
that ‘s why!
that’s why!
There is a dove
in love with me
comes to see me daily
and listens to my songs
it ain’t matter if it’s not the same dove
although I know it is
not because it looks alike
but because I know it is
and still it ain’t matter
if it’s not the same dove
because there is a dove
in love with me
comes to see me daily
and listens to my songs
adoringly
Jun 21, 2015
Jun 21, 2015 at 6:48 PM UTC
I can’t help but keep my hands off you.
You are the most beautiful being on this earth.
You are imperfectly perfect.
Every aspect of you -
your light brown, curly locks,
the rough stubble framing those gorgeously rose-toned lips,
that infectious laugh of yours,
those hypnotizing eyes that I could stare into for hours,
the taste of your supple lips…
So please excuse me for not being able to control myself around you.
I’m helplessly drawn to you.
There’s not a single second that passes,
when I don’t wish that -
I could trace your skin with my fingertips,
have your lips pressed against mine,
or to feel the warmth of your tight embrace.
And when I can’t,
I find myself staring at you,
adoringly admiring one of God’s most precious creations.
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 12:29 PM UTC
Do you...
Imagine my ****** expressions that match the nuances in my voice
Tell me of all the attention you get from other boys
Take deep trembling breaths just to hold back the tears
Feel the angry tides as you swallow your fears
Clutch your pillow tight and pretend that it's me
Let it soak up the drops as you sob quietly
Look at the moon adoringly as I do
Knowing that I see the same one too
Replay the words you heard me say
Read my words over and over, to get through your day
Cringe at the idea that we both have to hide
When really we want to spread our wings and glide
Sigh with despair when it all seems to fall apart
Pick on life's lashing when they start to smart
Picture me before sleep in bed as you lay
Let me run till slumber takes you away
Well up every time you miss
Close your eyes shut every time we kiss
Pace up and down as we share days' events
Try to be strong hearing each others' laments
Cover your face when you cry?
Grieve over time spent apart that fly on by
Take breaths in between words or in between sentences
Sigh deeply poring over our wild pretences
Blush red when sweet nothings you hear
Bite your lip when you need me near
Sing in your heart when you hear my voice
Dance secretly with me as your choice
Always think of different ways to sweep me off my feet
Rush of blood with the quickening of your heartbeat
Imagine the way I am as I do you
Get breathless when you say I love you
Feel a stab when we argue about nothing
Wasted words when much more needed saying
Weaken in the knees when for you I'd sing
Find catching yourself to stop yourself from buckling
Sit on the bathroom floor,
Only to let the shower pour
As you hug your knees to your chest
Assuring yourself that it's all for the best
Wish for a second just so you could see
With naked eyes and not imaginatively
Do you?
Because I do...
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 3:57 AM UTC
*This started dec 2009/ a lifetime ago/ shortly after the titanic sank
And when I first read it I liked it/ hated it/ didn’t get it
But after all this time/ mental torture/ self-indulgence
I can’t help but think/ worry/ be extremely concerned
That you may be slightly shut off/ un-hinged/ locked in a secure unit
How long will this poem haunt me/ entertain me/ **** me off
Will it still be here at christmas 2010/ christmas 2011/ the second coming
And how many times do you tweet this poem/ take your medication/ look at it adoringly
To keep it where it belongs/ as the thorn in my side/ on a poetry list for ever
Did you know that you have no comments/ 2 comments/ 101 comments
And you have replied to all of them/ 1 of them/ none of them
Which could be viewed as bashful/ egotistical/ down right ******* rude
For the sake of me/ the human race/ your psychiatrist
Make it stop please/ pretty please/ pretty ******* please with cherries on
(delete as appropriate, preferably the poem!)*
Aug 31, 2010
Aug 31, 2010 at 11:15 AM UTC
The ninth beatitude
Blessed are the transformed
and the transformers
For they shall know gratitude.
Hair attitudes are our beatitudes
How can I not love my hair
Short, cropped. *****
Long, cascading locks
Braids falling adoringly
Embracing cheekbones of
Historical beauty.
Hair diva's
Divinity, defying gravity...Black hair
Submitting to heat, or the nimble.
Fingers of scientist, chemist who
Are born to a life dedicated to
Beautification of her sisters and daughters
None since Madam C.J. Walker has had
This talent in abundance.
She put her wrist in the twist.
And the "aid" in the braid… new wave
Whose passion is to adore what
She's put into you; She is the true
“goddess of hair”
You are In good hands as
She dares you to move, or
bat an eyelash less
She bashes you, or threatens
to abort the mission Leaving you to
Your own device-Her advice is to become
at one with her- Become putty in her hands.
Her hands plant, plaiting love and patience
into every wrung…Moms,
And Hair Magicians, growing hands
That loom, weave and condition;
Grooming reluctant ducklings.
Into graceful swans
Grooming you for greatness.
(To my best friend)
https://scontent-ord1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xfp1/v/t1.0-9/11026273_1641865029363011_1932455644687694397_n.jpg?oh=2c95a0eb069b5f996f26494e277bd734&oe;=56C6FF8B
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 6:19 PM UTC
TEACHING TIMOTHY TO READ
( for Maureen )
She is teaching Timothy
to read
even though she
can't read herself.
Tongue firmly in cheek
she traces the words
with a tiny fingertip
that knows the story
off by heart she
could read it in the dark.
She is "pretending reading."
She has my every nuance and pause
by rote
making great efforts
to teach Timothy
the puppy
but Timothy the puppy
is more interested in
the un-thrown stick.
Timothy the puppy thinks this reading lark is
strictly for the humans.
"Once..." she begins
in a Fairy Tale-ish voice.
Timothy the puppy
barks in acknowledgement.
"Throwthestickthrowthestick!"
Timothy the Puppy's mind thinks.
"...upon a time
a long long time
...ago!"
Timothy the puppy looks
adoringly at his little mistress
with such an immensity of love and
licks her finger as it
travels over the words
the story's journey.
"Oh you..!" she scolds
"...are not even paying attention!"
"It's no good...I give up!"
she frowns at the unhappy creature
throwing the book away
in a prissy hissy fit.
Timothy the puppy
full of the joys of
a dog's life
( it's the only life he knows )
chases the fluttering pages
that fly like an exotic bird
brings Hans Christian Anderson back
his mouth full of words.
Oct 9, 2017
Oct 9, 2017 at 7:36 AM UTC
For it is this love, that I feel,
Sleepless nights, restless days, letting play the reel
Of film that shows how my life does look and feel.
Oh for when I see this form Adonis may it not be similar to,
But Aphrodite has something up her sleeve, a thing or two
About how this network of unrequited love will just end up sad and blue.
I do wish you the best of luck in everything you love,
Sadly I can't wish you to love me, to the heavens above.
It is now that I should try to let go of this dove.
To this dove that I loved endearingly,
To this dove that was close to me adoringly,
To this dove that I will bid farewell agonizingly.
I just keep on holding on
To this love that will dawn upon
Me the finality of this feeling that will be gone.
But it's you why I keep on hoping
That our love is just in the making.
I hope I won't be forever longing.
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 2:13 PM UTC
*This miraculous journey we call life,
has many strands braided together,
never forget what is expected from
the travelling monk, walking in front,
who'll break his walk to play with
stray street pups, eat, drink and sup
with men and women, of many temperaments,
who'd invite him to sit with them, even not knowing
who he is, or what mission moves him
through these dusty roads. There is something
that makes everyone not take eyes off him,
they'd say that, when he goes back on his way.
On the waves of emotions, he partake, he moves
like a paper boat navigated, by the speed
it all create, yet unaffected, except the empathy he keeps in his heart.
Hearing stories of this pilgrim in rapt attention
creating worlds fantastic inside,
learning things one never imagined before,
he travels with the wandering monk in sight.
What is more wondrous, once he thought
than seeing one's starry eyed lover's excitement,
showing a jewel she picked
from the riverbed of her short life
in a blessed moment.
She put it adoringly in to his mind,
a gleaming ornament that'd adorn him
though time would change that too.
Every thing experienced in this journey
makes one, the words of the monk prompt to act
and see the aftermath, take in the taste,
be it sweet or bitter or both,
odors and smells, the feel of things
a complex web, the map of inner life.
Never should one fail, to lend ears
to the tales of wandering monk
he is wisdom's child, patience solidified,
every tale has its color, smell and texture,
nature spoke, he experienced,
ages in muted tones speak
to him in the voice of the wandering monk*
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 8:57 AM UTC
"This is our little secret my dear."
The little girl looks up at her mother and smiles adoringly
"I won't tell if you won't."
(a.d)
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 5:15 PM UTC
A sunlit narrow path cleaving
overgrown green hedge, both ways,
such exhilarating surprises, it too can offer,
but would one expect, in the first place?
On my track, I stand arrested hold that flower,
that made my heart jump, in my front,
felt being washed inside out
by a kind wave, transformed.
The flower, romancing the sun
still is on it's branch,alive
didn't feel the temptation
to pluck it like many times before.
Even the beauty's name is unknown to me,
just another hibiscus,amidst her cousins,
"I love the one next to her, the purple one"
said a female voice, a wayfarer like me.
Standing by me, she adoringly looked at her favorite,
I had no hesitation to accept it, like mine.
no ranking makes sense, each has
own quicksilver tongue, if you 'd listen.
"Look at you! how pleased you look
I love the folks, that adore flowers!"
she sounded like a skylark, hands of
evening sun caressed her, we are kindred spirits.
"You have wide eyes like girls,
eyes seeking beauty reflect it"
we held hands like childhood friends,
long lost, looked at each other's eyes.
Isn't it the feeling one try to capture and define,
when trying to say what poetry makes to happen?
it's there, a tangible feeling, if you know what it means,
on our separate ways we went, gifting what to keep for ever.
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 1:02 PM UTC
I can’t help wondering
if he showed up suddenly
and walked right up to me
would I have anything to say?
Would he look on adoringly
when it ended so horribly?
Or is it only me
left feeling this way?
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 2:32 PM UTC
My love for you consumes me.
Yet I step back.
Fully knowing that you keep me high up on a pedestal and adoringly love me for who I am, no judgements.
Then why this back and forth?
Is it time or distance or our varied lifestyle or personality or is it just the undecided me?
It was never meant to be.
Yet I'm addicted to your calming reasonable voice.
You always find me in my darkness.
Is it just my selfish need?
How cruel can I be?
You know the answer to this,
It's to stay away from the likes of me.
Yet determination failed us.
Maybe this time you'll succeed?
Apr 23, 2017
Apr 23, 2017 at 10:36 AM UTC
When I tell You **** you" - I'm offering everything that I am.
Sometimes in flippant defiance.
Sometimes in submission.
Sometimes in love and appreciation.
Adoringly, exasperatedly, imploringly.
Body, soul, mind, heart, inclusive
**** You very much.
It's my kind of declaration.
Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 1:17 PM UTC
Every body's ******* about one-day-outta-the-year,
but I like to be your little princess for a night
when you open up all my doors,
pair the steak with the exact right bottle of wine
and we finish off the entire thing.
Chocolate mousse, made with love,
an entire pile of romantic movies to pick from
while you stare at me adoringly across the
immaculate
candle lit
apartment that's finally clean! (just for me)
Then Brazilian jazz in a bubble bath,
(you thought of every little thing)
I lean back into you, feeling your lips rest on my hairline.
You said we should do this more often.
Then I gave you a Santa bubble beard
we took pictures
and we laughed hysterically in the light of a candle.
It's how I know, before and after it all that
**** it
(I love you.)
The trick is slipping it into conversation.
Feb 15, 2012
Feb 15, 2012 at 10:11 PM UTC
we were never introduced.
but i watched you.
beautifully.
adoringly.
in my dreams vividly.
ah.
i observed you.
like the way you drink your
coffee.
the way you sipped.
i noticed every bit of it.
how you enjoyed it.
how you stirred clockwise
with a spoon.
and like crazy, going zigzag,
with a stirrer.
its like an addiction.
my addiction?
still you.
you see i am no stalker.
im an observer.
maybe an admirer.
a lover? im not sure.
but this distance,
this rather short gap of
affection you own
but is unnoticed.
if only i can spit it out
and let it crawl towards you.
but i find it gross.
hahaha.
plain stupid.
you own me.
with every stare,
unintentional i know,
with luscious smiles,
i melt.
i get unmolded.
i morphed into something
really unknown.
oh you my trickster.
how you do that i do not know.
i hope i get the chance to
let you know.
to hold your hand,
even if it's just from a
friendly shake.
oh the joy it would bring.
days of uninterrupted daydreams and
nights of being wishful.
how you make me write
from poetry, to stories.
how you wanna make me
carve your name on
a tree.
cliche.
but still i wish you know.
how i dreamed of flying kites together.
my way of trying to reach heaven
with you. :)
but you are just a dream.
and i am still a dreamer.
i am still dreaming.
of you.
and me.
but not of you and me.
oh mournful reality.
-end-
Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 6:39 AM UTC
adieu, egress, hegira
by gone; a strong term
I am a long winters' dormant worm
|
I pry the tip of the Earth with a blind eye
As I flex to the gap reaching something warm
something elated
|
Cold grit lines my skin like the prior-bathe of a traveling bird
The bellows cast at me adoringly, gust's that sting lightly
Frail but assured as I graze the tepid ray
|
dernier cri, objet d'art, vicissitude
up's and down's are now adue
I spring of change and what is new
Feb 5, 2011
Feb 5, 2011 at 8:54 PM UTC