"amateurs" poems
No poem in the world could ever describe the abundance of love you have showed me. Nor every lyric to a love song could ever compare to how you take care of me, how you caress me into your arms for a hug after a bad day I was having and in that moment I knew everything was going to be alright with you by my side. Lovely Stoner I want you to know, you mended my broken heart and months ago I was on fire just waiting for myself to burn. But when you touched me, you turned that disastrous ugly burning fire, into a magnificent lovely firework and showed me off to the world just to remind me that my existence and my beauty is still admired by other people. Lovely stoner thank you for reminding me that I don't need to search for my other half because I'm not a half, I am full just by myself. That I am full of love and beauty that only a few people could ever see and you felt bad for them because they couldn't see it. Thank you for being good for my mental health, for loving my insecurities and my flaws and for making a heart for each of my flaws, because I should learn to love myself no matter what. For showing me that I don't have to prove my importance to other people because you said if somebody can't see what a masterpiece I am, they didn't know what art looked like and you called them amateurs. I remember you once told me I am like the moon, who goes through phases because of my mood swings and the moon isn't always bright and full, for I have my bad days and I feel this emptiness at times but you said "you don't ever stop loving her." You told me that throughout your dark time I was the moon to guide you through and the moon dusted has clouded your vision and I lit up your life like no one else has. In that moment you said the most honest and heartfelt thing to me and I've never been so close to anyone ever. Thank you for only making me cry out of laughter and my stomach doesn't even hurt from laughing and realizing in the middle of the laughter that you are the one. I wouldn't want to go through the bad times with someone else and through my good times I just want to spend it with you. Thank you for making every day as special as it can be and for having the patience with me. I love when you take me high through my lows. I know you aren't the romantic gesture type, but thank you for always showing you love me in the simple little gesture type of way. Thank you for accepting and loving me just the way I am lovely stoner.
Apr 2, 2016
Apr 2, 2016 at 10:37 PM UTC
**
A new poetry posting site from God's own country, Kerala in India
Poetry dates all the way back to the beginnings of Humanity. People have always been questioning nature, and the day-to-day existence of themselves and other humans love, death, survival, war, injustice, and the universe are all examples of things that have been questioned by men and woman since the roots of human existence. Whether in nursery rhyme, ballad, jingle, rhyme, anthem, or music, people have found poetry to be an outlet for expressing these questions, sensations, and experiences
People often associate it with strict rhyming patterns, complicated vocabulary, hidden iconic meanings, and difficult rhythmical conventions. Poetry is even taught in school to be an intricate, complicated, inexplicable puzzle. True, poetry is difficult. Sure, it can be harder to understand than prose. However, that is only because sometimes it is involved with your inescapable complexities
and uncertainties of your existence.
In this era when the soul wants to go on a spree, imagination and creativity are all merged to serve and let you fulfill your wish to express. The pen, mightier than the sword, is free and can conquer hearts all over the world. So here is a site which allows unity in diversity and considers not cultural and racial barriers. It welcomes professionals and amateurs equally as poetry believe not in prejudice. Human beings are free to write their feelings and emotions. We therefore invite here people from all over the world to celebrate under the ipoetree. Feel at home here under the shade of this tree which
pines to have as fruits your poems.
Williamsji Maveli (Williams George Maveli) is an enthusiastic and solid writer. He is a sincere, resourceful and diligent in his poetic work. He is very well connected and networked within the literary community and is willing to take up projects even in his tight schedules. His writings reflect the amount of research on the current events that has gone into it along with his knowledge and expertise in the field. However, Williamsji’s many poems are simple to read, interpret, and understand. His latest book, titled “ARAMVIRALTHUMBATHU…” (On the tip of the sixth finger), is now published and released by H & C Books,Trichur, Kerala in India, which is a collection of lyrics.
If anyone is interested, please email to [email protected] or write to
WILLIAMSJI MAVELI
PO BOX 3
ANGAMALY
ERNAKULAM DISTRICT,
KERALA - INDIA
**
Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 2:23 AM UTC
Ils ont vu les Pays-Bas, ils rentrent à Terre Haute;
Mais une nuit d’été, les voici à Ravenne,
A l’aise entre deux draps, chez deux centaines de punaises;
La sueur aestivale, et une forte odeur de chienne.
Ils restent sur le dos écartant les genoux
De quatre jambes molles tout gonflées de morsures.
On relève le drap pour mieux égratigner.
Moins d’une lieue d’ici est Saint Apollinaire
En Classe, basilique connue des amateurs
De chapitaux d’acanthe que tournoie le vent.
Ils vont prendre le train de huit heures
Prolonger leurs misères de Padoue à Milan
Où se trouvent la Cène, et un restaurant pas cher.
Lui pense aux pourboires, et rédige son bilan.
Ils auront vu la Suisse et traversé la France.
Et Saint Apollinaire, raide et ascétique,
Vieille usine désaffectée de Dieu, tient encore
Dans ses pierres écroulantes la forme précise de Byzance.
3.8k
She’s so beautiful,
she’s such a Passion Magnet,
that even though I know she can not be owned,
I still want to call her my own so anytime I want I can have it,
so precious our time together is,
that I don’t take a moment for granted,
still she’s so humble,
that even though she is all powerful she doesn’t know it,
she’s the most modest Hottest Goddess I’ve ever witnessed,
so when she let’s me in I take the chance & hope I don’t blow it,
she’s everything I’ve ever wanted, best love I’ve ever made,
if she’d accept my proposal, I’d propose to her this very today,
I’d get on my knees & ask for her hand with a ring,
I’d give her my word, give her her space, & I’d give up the game,
but none of the what ifs that may happen after even matter,
because when we’re together everything else vanishes,
these words become unheard irrelevant meaningless chatter,
we become a phenomenon of amorous rapturous happiness,
whereupon all our wrongs are gone. the only song is laughter,
& all that exists is an ambience of virtuous everlasting bliss,
as her seas swell she yells,
flooding the lands of this one man island,
going off without a pause she digs in her claws,
shivering gleefully delivering repeatedly oceanic *******
& as she does I let go & give up my whole self as an offering,
I let her have her way with me, we literally make love for hours,
uncensored, this is not for amateurs or minors,
this is grown & **** pheromones exercising exciting instincts,
this is not for idiots or cowards,
it takes courage & strength,
to let yourself be so open & vulnerable,
& after the session is done I propose to her,
“Fck it run away with me, let’s go all the way,
let’s create our own world where we are untouchable,
I’ve got the funds to pay if you’re ready to run away,
seriously let’s create our own kingdom it’ll be wonderful.”,
to this she turned to me & in our post-sex sweat she said,
“But Aaron we just met I’m not so sure I mean I don’t know.”,
to which I said, “Izzy I get it but please trust your self,
take a few moments to meditate on it & listen to your soul,
let us hold onto these moments of bliss together,
& let’s let everything else just go.”…
∆ LaLux ∆
THHT3: The Hollywood Hearts Trilogy vol. 3
available worldwide: 9/9/19
Sep 5, 2019
Sep 5, 2019 at 8:46 PM UTC
Is it perfect, did I get it right?
Missing pieces, relatable feels.
Sweaty palms, panic, fright.
Heart jumps back, chest reels.
Incomplete, forever it will be,
blinded by the daunting fear.
No one’s work, is mastery,
others judge it, don’t you see?
Self improvement guide’s,
our next steps towards,
the best self versions,
as we move forward.
Waiting for approval,
justified by the few,
who never truly,
understand you.
They say less is more,
but there is more in less,
so how do you choose your words?
To not be left with regret!
My words are for the amateurs,
critics step aside,
together our words will flourish,
together we realize.
Get it out the door, they
say you only live once.
Continue writing more,
go on inspire on!
Oct 20, 2017
Oct 20, 2017 at 10:45 AM UTC
I feel scared to try new things,
But then every time I'm scared,
I remind myself:
"Remember, amateurs built Noah's ark,
And professionals built the titanic."
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 5:54 AM UTC
you wouldn't need a second chance
if you had treated me right the first time
May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 10:58 PM UTC
tizz is an uncle, bro and dem richez
i was born viciouz, but always had visionz
a young boy used to build bridgez
between black and white, peace and fight
dreamy adolescence, i spit out whole heavenz
wit my divine essence, all dem "lyricis" be jealouz
but dey just "so called", cause dey so old
tizz grew cold, so not any of dem amateurs won't grow old
i'm so cold, i freeze, **** and stay, then i eaze among dem geez
we live in codez like secret service, dealin' wit burnaz
quick learnaz, sick and sane, our skin is thick,
we don't feel pain, black lion's mane, heaven yeah
no expression can illustrate tizzopish aggression
pay attention! watch out for dat other direction
receive my blessin', kneein' between me and the destined
it's battle rappin', it's slappin' againzt all of ya actin'
friendship versuz rush, some peepz start to blush
when you remind them of valuez, like some bad newz
i'm the man whose bad moodz be legendary, like a legionary
dealin' wit whatz necessary, cause i was born predatory
find tizz shinin' in the mornin' glory and rhymin' a story
readin' diz is mandatory, just anotha category,
stolen from the laboratory, **** am i now swollen,
and all-in like all-night, alright, feed em just a small bite
Nov 7, 2020
Nov 7, 2020 at 8:13 AM UTC
Free falling; gone in an instant-- blink of an eyelash faster than lightning, flashing like brilliance
Drilling holes into the psyche
Astronomical; impeccable aim
Breathtaking colors with patterns like kaleidoscopes the creativity blows the mind
It's the morphine you can take without overdosing in pain and numbness
It's the chase you can't escape if you wanted to but you won't even try
It's the height of ecstasy and the awe of gratification
Its pure and magnetizing invigoration
When you prove what you set out to prove
When you give it all, you have everything to lose
The negative chatter fills the gaps of endurance and credence
The silence of the aftermath, leaves a clear distinctive taste
All the critics and the villains siphon air so you lose the ability to breathe
There is a glimmer, a tiny microorganism still standing on two feet pushing forward
Moving slow
Falling sideways
All, all alone
Glowing, fueling, bursting...flooding roadblocks, causing traffic
All the commotion is seeding havoc
Like an artist left unknown...you will grow
Flow and flower into a masterpiece
And the free fall secures you high amongst the nebula
There is no more spiraling downwards there is only a tiger lurking, always ready to pounce
On their victims, on the goals you've set ahead
Like a real winner always does, you finish first
because you did your very best
You're a tiger and you just earned you your stripes
So leave the amateurs on their soap box discombobulated
You're resilient, even savvy
You're a vision to be reckoned with
Sep 1, 2013
Sep 1, 2013 at 3:07 AM UTC
Do you wanna hang out?
We can fingerpaint now.
'Cuz I know that you love the stuff
that reminds you of being young.
Witnessing the sunset (the new day will await us)
We can use our thumbprints (all over the plain walls)
And we can bend our knuckles (paired up to shape hearts)
We won't always be amateurs (we can fingerpaint now)
We're never growing older, there's nothing anyone can do.
Your hand may be in mine, your soul deep in mine too.
Do you wanna hang out? We can fingerpaint now.
'Cuz I know you love the things that make you feel young again.
Nov 11, 2010
Nov 11, 2010 at 11:03 PM UTC
Teaching high school kids the craft
Directing them in their school show
Teenagers singing just off key
With a band that's one beat slow
Holding rehearsals when the gym is free
Have you really sunk this low
Are you truly at your bottom
Or are you "Waiting for Godot"?
"YOU'RE ON IN FIFTEEN MINUTES...MR. WILSON"
Doing plays in local theater groups
With untrained amateurs on stage
You tell them all your stories
And you keep them on their page
It's not exactly where you started
Talent that you just can't gauge
Selling programs in the lobby
It's time you act your age
"TEN MINUTES TILL SHOWTIME MR. WILSON"
Touring shows around the country now
Second touring group, smaller towns
Doing revival shows of Sondheim
"Sweeney Todd " and "Send in the clowns"
Living out of an old suitcase
The countryside a sea of browns
Where you are at the local's mercy
And there's less ups than there are downs
"FIVE MINUTES TO SHOW TIME MR. WILSON"
You've made it, you're on Broadway
Starring roles are yours to choose
Where the highlights of last nights show
Are in today's reviews
Where a sold out run continues
And your name is in the news
You're an actor, and you're famous
The world is yours to lose
"SHOW TIME MR.. WILSON...ON STAGE PLEASE"
The kids are out there schlepping
working their way through the *****
singing songs sung by the Beatles
"All This and World War II"
You're just a pillar standing, sweating
As you see what you can do
You're still an actor, and you know it
You'll need a drink when this is through.
Jan 6, 2013
Jan 6, 2013 at 7:33 PM UTC
As I sit on this assigned desk
ears drooling with institution gel
I swirl on the seat, the wind pause
Musing in evangelised dilemmas
Lobotomised to jerking veracities
Sagacity amateurs boost egos
Stooping and stooging in asylums
Barricading others progression
Regressed losing solid grounds
Jurisdictional custodial supervisions
An infused scent of propagandism
Scenes of robotic observational modelling
Unprincipled to insist on another destiny
Calculating targeted risked predictions
Regulated to invigilate and unroll a matrix grid
Who am I? To forge his,her or their trench
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 7:56 AM UTC
mouth to mouth-
crystalline tiny cubes of light
into tasting pieces of acid and spill them all over
your black spaghetti straps
tugging at the bottom of your machine washable
dungeons
you purr words of inconsolation and inconsequence
stream-line savior
savour the swift
elongated tongues
of amateurs -
sky machines
sent to lick the blood right off my feet
and from the streets-
swimming into the soft-tailed waterfalls that spill over
cavernous eyes
Jun 28, 2012
Jun 28, 2012 at 3:34 AM UTC
Do you have to get high to feel more fly?
Soft *** stoner
I'm more blunt when I'm sober
Excuse me to the real dudes who use ****
I know how it be
But if you only smoke because it's trendy
Right now your life is pending
Because you not downloaded
You buffering
Losing connection
I can't respect it
Your life isn't hectic
You had to use other folks addresses
Just to get public school lessons
Never got a suspension
Detention because you wasn't paying attention
You wasn't throwing pencils
Or raising up dresses
Or erasing the "warm up" messages
Or guessing during benchmark testing
Word I heard you was a nerd
And that's cool
But don't have tape in between 'yo glasses then grow up to gain bad habits
That's backwards
Thought life was all about progress
You have a background which is flawless
But for acceptance
You start making exceptions
I do it for the breathless
And of my God I don't question
Exclamation
To all perpetuation
But hesitation
I don't condone perpetration
Why dissemble on some **** that isn't providential?
Everyone who practically had no choice now want a way out
Little *** kids you didn't even weigh in
How did you find your way in?
That's from real men being pliant
For all you cats who trying
Stop 'yo lying
When I'm around Amateurs come in silence
Like what's a scavenger to a lion?
About time for all of you late bloomers to become compliant
Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 8:49 PM UTC
with your little moral superiority complex
and your unfathomable left-wing british politics
as the road to take,
let's just say i wouldn't be here,
and i wouldn't complain as i do:
i'd rather have a communist life with wife
and kids rather than iron maiden and commercial
bliss - maybe then i'd be talking
serious medical conditions and not allowing
amateurs to preach me psychology
instead of reading philosophy like some
secular evangelists should, because that's what atheism spawned:
psychological Evangalist advents:
no god = no soul, highest prime invoking thought,
even though ****** traffic accidents
to convene with what thought excites: a serenity
that's contradictory when tested.
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 7:13 PM UTC
Welcome to her house of many bones
Step into one of life's great unknowns
With broken dreams and shattered heart
In this carnival of freaks she is apart
For the price of a ticket you can see
All the horror, and agony there could ever be
All we ask is to put down your stones
On the left is a kingless throne
No love was ever ment to stay
I don't know why, it's just that way
On your right is the dreams that's died
Where want and reality did collide
In the next room you will find
All the demons that are in her mind
Young man, please step back
These demons will, and do attack
On her arm's you'll see the scars
Made with their talon like sharpened claws
Please don't dottle, let's hurry along
This sad little journey we don't want to prolong
Up next you'll find
Human monsters of every kind
They all wear a clever disguise
You won't even see them unless your wise
Of the shadow men take no heed
Off the sorrow they just feed
The closets doors all are open wide
Not one skeleton does she hide
Please don't be scared, please don't shout
The are free to dance about
Last but not lest I want to show
What happens when the anguish grows
Tormented by years of unbridled strife
In the coffin lies her pitiful life
It's not her body, for she is the walking dead
Heart in taters, screams echoing in her head
Eyes opened wide with years of dread
The light and happiness are always there mocking
You'll find her over there in the corner rocking
Yes she had to be restrained
In the straitjacket she will remain
It's for your safety, not hers
For the pain she endures
Is not for weak amateurs
Exit on the right
Single file, please don't fight
Enjoy the rest of the attractions
We guarantee a hundred percent satisfaction
Unless in this carnival of woeful souls you are captured
Then your only hope will be the rapture
Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 7:16 PM UTC
I came from a generation that stuck in between the nostalgia,
The grandeur of aesthetics and hypocrisy in the genitalia
Too many amateurs which they called pretenders
Too many pretenders which they called profounders
Of Artistry in every countries culture.
I am not the most impressive writer just like Shakespeare
Neither close to the modern writers on which they give praise
My age is a few leaps away to the end of my youth,
At twenty, I found words of impulsiveness and courage elicit from my mouth.
I am just someone who embodied the face of my leagues
They call me the soul of their generation as they please
I may write pretentiously, but I speak for the marginalized
I dream for my inked piece would reach them, I hope to get them amazed
I am the soul my generation
A little careless with my actions, telling others I'm brave
A little wild, yet I screamed that nothing bounds me
A little innocent with life's surprises, and so I apologized and called it as a mistake.
I'm a few every people that you've met.
I carry the pieces of the individuals who have touched me
I flow like the river which takes parts of the fallen objects in me.
Vulnerable to anything, Easy to gain what the heart desires
Misunderstood like the innocent criminals,
Goes along with changes
I'm maybe everything they thought I am
I'm maybe someone you never thought I am
Or nothing in with your choices
But one thing's for sure; I'm free.
Jun 23, 2017
Jun 23, 2017 at 10:39 PM UTC
We're new at this,
so please make allowances,
to why
your so shy,
and I smile up like an idiot
into your ocean misted eyes.
That shade,
the same,
as Forget-Me-Not's
but they should be called
Make-Me-Forget-my Name,
as I'm so busy tracing the lines of your face.
What do we do?
As we fumble and skid, were both like Bambi
on a slippery slope,
Launched into foreign territory.
Amateurs adventurers,
as we sit arm to arm,
my nerve endings singing,
at your very proximity.
I'm new at this,
so please
for me
make some allowances
and if it's not much to command
Could you maybe
Hold my hand?
Sep 1, 2013
Sep 1, 2013 at 8:59 AM UTC
So you want to forget?
You have a drink.
Or six.
So you want to get high?
You roll your own.
Light up.
So you want to feel alive?
All you little amateurs,
Let me show you.
Come join me
In my chemical chemistry factory,
Or my suicide surgical stand,
Homemade scalpel in my hand.
I can help you.
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 6:34 PM UTC
You thought you knew anger,
but it was spite in a thin foil wrapper,
poised like candy,
poisoned with tiger's whiskers.
Harbored depression since elementary,
but didn't know the weight till it was
in your stomach and your fists
and you cringe with pain
every time you talk.
Relieved to hear somebody say they can't
give a **** about what you feel like.
Medicine; snake oils,
cured to hear that you can't
give a **** about what I feel
like anyways.
God graced us with it's absence.
Thought you knew absence
middle school crying
in bed over how insignificant you are,
but bitter nihilism
dropping out of college twice
taught you emptiness.
Keep thinking that thought uncovers
more direction and technique,
beauty through function,
but
John Cage is meaningless as a system
and chaos as a instrument of
wonder and progress.
The amateurs think
about what the legends do.
Mar 7, 2015
Mar 7, 2015 at 3:24 AM UTC
A small, frail woman,
very much a shy recluse
who prefered only
the company of few
Like many classical poets
she lived mostly unrecognized
until after her death
Immortality in the pages
Perhaps she was more daring
than her lifestyle
She had to be so, simply because
she was a woman and not a man
It is because of her
and those like her
that female writers,
even amateurs like me,
can let our pens flow
and our papers fill up
with wondrous words
So I thank you,
Emily Dickinson,
for having the courage to write
and to show the world
that females can make
such interesting words
come alive!
Aug 3, 2010
Aug 3, 2010 at 9:35 AM UTC