"analysing" poems
Isn’t it funny
How poets dramatise everything
“An ocean of depression”
“A death grip of love”
We just can’t help ourselves
It’s who we are
It’s part of being a poet
Over analysing life
Deeply contemplating death
“What is the meaning of life?”
Everything is philosophical
There’s always a lesson to learn
An issue to address
A heartache to confess
May 18, 2018
May 18, 2018 at 4:09 PM UTC
The sun
Is glad to see your face,
Your unseen grace,
Your Hidden space,
Your
Silhouette now covered in sun beams.
It seems
You've been
Packed away for a very long time
Its almost a crime how you've
Shielded yourself from his hydrogenity.
The sun
Is glad to see your smile
Your pearly whites
And colorless lips
Soft,
Too cold,
needing,
Craving,
warmth.
His
Golden fingers graze your cheek
And Bring life back to your pallor.
Who knew
Living as a recluse would make you so blue,
So unidentifiable?
He Brings you back from the dead
Pulling your soul back out
into your flesh.
Fresh
And healed,
At least Temporarily
But it
is enough,
His touch,
To liven your now tanning skin
To Make you akin to his own:
A sunflower
Trapped in the dark
3 inches tall instead of 3 feet
Now starting to grow beyond skyscrapers with his aid,
if his light is what's causing you to
Stand up straight
His heat is what is reviving your heartbeat
A Crescendo from silence to a slight pitter patter
Almost as soft as rain.
Almost as if crying.
If you listen hard enough,
You just might hear it wimpering, waking up from it's hibernation.
It
Wants to go back to sleep
But he
Refuses to give up his efforts of recesitation
For he knows it isn't for naught,
For he knows that it is working,
Your heart stirring
Beating
Louder as you step further out of the door frame
Let him
Cradle your soul with his firey hands
Let him
Bring you back from the dead.
You Look so much more alive when you let him work his magic on you.
The world
Has missed you.
Looking around,
Your mind starts whirring,
Analysing The outside world.
The Green of the grass and the
Blue of the sky,
All Graces of the solar angel shining over you,
Shining into you.
Giving you sight,
Giving you life,
Giving you the things you couldn't have before.
Let his
Golden happiness seep into your freezing bones,
And,
Turn them into torches
And burn brighter, in the daylight
Than you ever did in the darkness.
Feb 9, 2018
Feb 9, 2018 at 10:53 AM UTC
If only you knew the damage caused
a few small words said and forgotten
days and hours of painful analysing
awake late at night, cold sweat haze
reliving, re-enacting, in my mind
caught in a time trap, held on repeat
left on my own, locked in this hurt
I hear my voice repeat as I cry
eternally asking the question, why?
Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 11:04 AM UTC
Years later
Bathsheba's psychiatrist
Was analysing the tryst
Between King David
And her.
It was no tryst
Said she.
What a slur.
He was a ******
And an opportunist.
An amoeba would concur
Said the psychiatrist
That a shower screen
And being more demure
Would have been
Quite spiritually enterprising.
You cannot expect
Kind David to desist
From objectifying your femurs
And a cracking pair of amethysts.
Don't treat me
Like some calculating
Hormone Exchange Unit
You sexist misogynist.
You are not fit
To analyse me.
You say your name's Freud
But you're wholly devoid
Of any insight
Of what is amiss
Or my troubles might be.
Not one piece of grit
Have you put in my oyster.
You obsequious churl
I'm a girl you don't mess with.
I could have you hung.
But instead she dismissed him
and booked an appointment
With a certain professor
Who went by the name of
Carl Gustav Jung.
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 11:27 AM UTC
The two brothers wait for me arrive home,
They call themselves Anxiety and Fear,
Fear with his grimace smile,
Welcomes me in with his rigid glare,
He takes one look at me,
Reminds me I am vulnerable and fragile,
Anxiety plays along,
With his insolent tone,
Tells me I am an ignorant fool,
Mocking me of my wisdom,
Fear reminds me I am blind,
I know deep down they are right,
Fear is talking with a big smile to Anxiety,
The two brothers begin to laugh as I sit and calculate,
My heart begins to ache,
Anxiety points out the truth,
I can’t deny how I went wrong,
Fear places his hands on my shoulders,
I start to cry as I am unable to conceal these thoughts,
He whispers in my ear he will always be there,
Anxiety places his hands in mine
He always said one day I will suffer
No one to save you,
Like vultures they begin to circulate,
I must stay calm,
I rise firm to my feet,
So you want to mess with me?
Fear retreats to the corner and hisses,
It doesn’t matter what you have to say,
How long you keep these thoughts at bay,
Anxiety continues to linger around,
Analysing every inch and sound,
I was naïve and innocent to follow to your dark psyche,
Fear attempts to shut me up,
Yelling nonsense in my ear,
Anxiety joins in playfully,
Twisting and turning my stomach,
I take a deep breathe,
I will not follow blindly to the devil in disguise,
I will not tolerate these fears and let them ride me,
I will not let anxiety take over my strive,
My devotion will be dedicated to creativity and insanity,
You are just made believed.
The two brothers wince at my capability to be brave,
Anxiety recoils and hallows a piercing shriek,
Fear grimaces and spits venom at me,
I catch the venom and throw it back at Fear,
I owe you nothing
Oct 9, 2018
Oct 9, 2018 at 8:19 AM UTC
This is a pen to paper
Freestyle
Excuse me but I haven't done this
In a while.
The transfer of rhymes to paper from the brain
These things I say are done my own way.
A lyrically challenged man
Easily falls from grace
His beat to the beep to the bam
Goes slow at his own challenged pace.
Tearing apart rhymes
Into a gory mess
Analysing the times
Academic detest.
Gonna slow this down
As its getting easy to lounge
Gonna full stop
Before eloquentcy is lost.
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 4:31 PM UTC
The fairytale was my life.
But the story itself wasn't mine.
Placed in a town
In a time of kings and queens,
Princes and princesses,
I was a commoner.
The palace was my dream
but not for the money,
obviously for the love.
I saw him everyday,
Stealing food with his adorable monkey sidekick,
Swift and sly,
He was calm and kind.
We greeted from time to time
With the simple eye lock
And a sweet smile.
My heart danced for hours on end
Yet he'd have forgotten me by then.
It didn't matter-
He knew I existed,
That was what was most important to me.
I watched him graciously live
The scary life.
Risks of being caught
But he laughed it all off.
I begged for another word
As I followed him in my only clothes,
Stalking after him but only to get a glimpse
Of the poor prince he meant to me.
I dreamt about him every night
Even if our eyes only spoke-
Even if his eyes only said one word-
Even if that one word was
“Hello.”
But after days of analysing him,
Figuring him out through everything but words,
I was caught off guard-
Our eyes didn't catch each other anymore.
He forgot I existed.
He didn't acknowledge me.
He didn't smile at the least.
But the closer I got and I could see-
His eyes were blind.
There was someone else.
I saw him wishing for the world,
Wishing for her,
Thinking about her.
Wanting to be with her.
Needing her.
To say I was broken was an understatement.
He changed.
He followed into the palace,
He stayed there for long,
I barely saw him.
He changed from me into them.
He became a prince.
She accepted him-
It was still romantic.
He rode his flying carpet into the night
The same night I saw the stars as his eyes.
He looked at her with his heart,
The same way I hoped he looked into me.
He gave her more than the magic lamp ever could,
The same way I wished on the moon he could give me.
His love was in his heart.
My love was in my soul.
He dressed up for rags
Getting ready to accept riches,
Wishing on a genie,
For her and her heart.
Feelings broken I realised he had fallen in love.
He was Aladdin
He was never mine.
It was clear as the sky;
I wasn't his Jasmine.
Aug 24, 2015
Aug 24, 2015 at 5:48 PM UTC
Trigger finger 13 is hung
from his shoulders,
though not by hooks found in the butchers book,
but with pride and a sweating brow,
one that can survey the terrain with a quizzical eye,
analysing rustling in bushes only 3 clicks away.
Bible tattoos tattooed below the tribal
ones,
and a 13 on the finger used most
when they charge and come.
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 1:56 PM UTC
I should have thought,
It would be easier,
Somehow haha,
It is neither here nor there,
A coincidental chain of things,
Setting in motion
Something akin to,
A dreamless day,
A wooden sort of way
Of going about,
Cumbersome,
Turtled,
Thiking about,
Nothing while,
Fixing blye eyes,
Analysing speech patterns
A superior sense of spatial awareness
Coupled with sartorial elegance,
That could be counted in kilowatts,
***** is the incumbent ruler of a blank,
Where are our chaperones?
This is not the kind of party I had envisaged,
A monster is as much as you allow it to be,
So take me to solitude.
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 10:54 AM UTC
I love painting the city at night
Chill down influenced, intoxicated or deep into a Jay.
You'd find me staring at the sky
Whether it's clouds I see or stars that I wish to become coz I know some glaze at them and see beauty even if they don't understand the galaxy
They'd find me interesting
Yes I know then I am noticed...
I love painting the city at night
How I'd love to paint it ****
So I can show my imperfections
That make me stand in front of the mirror with the urge of wanting to erase them... Stretch Marks that we scale as silver linings...
Stretch Marks that even an eraser cannot erase...
Wearing clothes that I pretend to not know how "perfect" they'd fit
I'll just say " oh threw this one coz I don't really have time to look perfect"
I pulled an act so you could envy my pretentious perfection.
Perfection that's manufactured of cover pages... How bad I want to make it on the front pages.
I like painting the City at night
Analysing personalities , realising how depressed we are
How we all want to be noticed.
I like painting the City at night
With conclusions made up in my head of how perfect my imperfections are
City lights excite me after every glass of wine that leads me to the realisation of how great depression suits me.
I like painting the city at night.
Jun 9, 2018
Jun 9, 2018 at 3:06 PM UTC
When you can see the Moon
Why wasting your time counting
The uncountable stars
When you can see your present
Why wasting your time analysing
The incurable past
Living a life of contentment is
Accepting the intellectual truth
Live in Present !
Jun 9, 2016
Jun 9, 2016 at 12:02 PM UTC
Left Brain
I am not a scientific test or analysis, a mathematician
or an algorithm. I am not a linear graph or a statistician.
I am the reason that you can colour inside the lines,
why you don't fall off your bicycle anymore and never forgot
how to ride it. I am the force behind your smiles-
eighteen different smiles. The reason you can hold a book
or ball and learn what to do when it's in your hands.
I take credit when you remember the name of your childhood
babysitter. Thanks to me, you can play with jigsaw puzzles
or cards or checkers or dominoes. And thank me too
for your vocabulary. You don't necessarily remember
just how it is you came to remember sequences like getting dressed
or driving, decoding or analysing. I am the reason
you can probably look at someone and learn their name.
I suppose you could complain about how I dictate your days.
How you get up, go to sleep, lend you the seconds and minutes
and hours and months and years. I am the one who taught you
time. I'm also there for you to know that it runs out.
Right side
I am no dancer or artist made for television. Instead,
I'm the vibration you feel in the tips of your fingers
when you make a toast and ***** your wineglasses.
Those eighteen smiles you can smile? I gave you the gift
of being able to count your crayons while you are smiling.
But it's more than box sets of crayons and toasts.
I am the reason you want to be. Everything you yearn for-
every penny you ever tossed into a fountain, every star
you have wished on, and every eyelash. I am the reason
why you prefer wearing blue to green, and why you may
fill a blank page with words for what you want, how you feel.
I am the excitement that waits for you at Christmas
or reunions. When you saw the sky full of stars, felt snow
or went in the sea for the first time, I gave you that gasp.
I am your eyes on the world. Blame me for your wanderlust.
I am not time. I am how you know sometimes
that there is no way you'll ever have enough of it.
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 12:44 PM UTC
So a while back my friend told me
'You're analytically minded'
Until then I hadn't really seen it
But from then on, I couldn't see
Anything but it
It's like before then my brain only
Analysed whatever was fed in
But now, now it does that
As well as analysing the analytical process
My brain seems to absorb quirky habits
From others more readily now too
I read a book about a nerdy boy
Who loves math, anagrams, and Katherines
All of a sudden I start anagramming
Everything
I saw a vihart video on tesselations
And another on fractals
This reminded me of the Fibonacci sequence
And Sierpinski's triangle(which two friends
Claim is
'A tri-force made up of tri-forces, made of tri-forces!')
Now I'm in love with all four again
And a bunch of random
Mathematical things too
Dec 17, 2012
Dec 17, 2012 at 8:09 PM UTC
Objectively i step out,
dissecting, inspecting, introspecting,
analysing what is to become of me.
You interpret my words and call it psychology
My main problem is communication,
Inherited from my mother ,
Though i earned a masters in the latter,
My perverseness came from my father
But who could ever blame the parents ?
Since reality is merely a fragment
associated to humans, and i accept that.
Subjectively i dig in , search , meditate and contemplate
i conclude the path is still long ahead however my herritage assures me that i am already there
If Jazz could be committed to ink and paper
assorted with therapy
the results would be similar to my humble poetry
Words Of Harfouchism
Jan 12, 2021
Jan 12, 2021 at 11:24 AM UTC
I know I should stop criticising
Every minuscule error in revising
The grammar in here
I should not interfere
And I really should stop analysing
But I cannot erase what I see
And the teacher insists inside me
That I share what I know
About grammar and how
To revise before posting for the world to see
Your and you're are some major sinners
They make good poets look like beginners
Plus confusions in tense
Make them seem rather dense
And that's sad when they should look like winners
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 12:27 PM UTC
Like placing a Sitar
I placed you with care,
On my lap I dare,
On my lap, till I fell asleep.
My fingers ran over those dots
Came to know the plots
As I felt my cracky sneaks
Smiled on turning the leaves
On sensing your corners
Understood the creator's pain
The pain of adorning those leaves
Those leaves that have thorns and veins
You contained dots,
Dots, six popped out,
six punched in.
Heartfelt heavy for sure
On analysing the torture
The torture of oneself
Shed tears on knowing the revealed fact
The revealed story.
Slid within,
Felt the essence of love and life
I didn't want to harm
To harm by a pen
By a pen by underlining the passage.
Hats off to Louis Braille
A blind man
Felt the essence of a novel
Though those eyes were at rest
Though the world is black
Lived the moment of colours
By the warmth of which the eyes fell asleep.
Dated: 19.10.2014
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 7:51 AM UTC
As I look up in the moonlight
at the wonders I can see,
could it be, perhaps that somebody is
looking right back down at me?
Have they got me in their sights right now?
Are they studying our race?
Are they deciding what to do with us,
'cause they think we're a disgrace?
Are they analysing human-kind
and are they figuring us out?
Do they think they understand
what people really are about?
Perhaps they use their birds eye view
and watch us scorch this earth?
Or maybe we're just an experiment
and they've watched since planets birth?
Can they see so many dying
in countries off afar?
Can they see us drain resources
and put them in a car?
Can they witness the atrocities
we inflict upon our own
as we enter into wars with them
and destroy each others homes?
Can they plainly see the poor who die
because they cannot get the aid?
Do they think this idiotic
when they compare how some are paid?
Do they think that we are watching
as our creatures become extinct?
Can they see why there are shortages
and that it's people who are linked?
Maybe they can see the answer?
Perhaps they followed the trace
and the answer for the rest of them
is to destroy the human race?
Perhaps like us mere mortals
who will just take the vermin out.
Perhaps to them we are the vermin
and that's been proved to them no doubt?
Maybe we are on probation
whilst they figure what course to take?
Maybe that are trying to see
if we figure out our mistake?
Or perhaps I am just looking up
and there is nothing looking back
and the world is never going to
get itself back onto track?
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 4:50 PM UTC
Sitting in silence,
Observing.
Not all notice the girl,
Sitting at the back of the room,
Her black hair falling between her eyes.
She blows the wisps out of the way,
Continues analysing.
Watching couples ****** each other,
She gags.
Apr 6, 2012
Apr 6, 2012 at 9:28 AM UTC
I was sad!
I was crying on the floor that day!
Rolling and sobbing!
I absolutely had no idea about myself!
I couldn't reach conclusions!
I couldn't make decisions!
I started over thinking about things I should not!
I started criticizing myself!
I started punishing myself!
Punished myself!
Punished my own self because I thought I deserve it!
Punished my own self because I thought it would make me happy!
Scratched, cursed, slapped,slammed and continued it!
I punished myself until the day I asked questions to myself!
Is this the solution?
Does cursing myself would end me on a good boat?
Would it help me to restore my feelings,my emotions,my beliefs,my perspective towards things,my respect for myself back?
Do punishing my own self leads to anything else other than bruises and never going marks on my body , my mind,my soul and even my spirit?
Is it right to mentally destroy my own self?
I was sad until the day I realised that this phase is temporary!
My sadness,this bad phase can be temporary if I believe it to be temporary!
I decided to work on myself!
My own self!
To believe in myself once again because it is me who has to live for my own self and not any one else!
Therefore,it's my opinion about myself that matters and not anyone else's!
That day,after analysing and evaluating i got to know that it is me who is going to change my life,mould my decisions and differentiate between what is wrong and what is right for my own self!
I decided to understand myself so that I can get myself completely ,my needs,my wants and love myself!
It was difficult but it was worth it!
And then I ended up on a conclusion that had help me go on in Life!
Your life is in your hands!
Your life is what you make it!
Dec 27, 2016
Dec 27, 2016 at 7:11 AM UTC
She doesn't say a thing
She lurks around in silence
Constantly watching you
Sometimes observing you closely
Stalking each stories you share
Digesting your words each day
Analysing, inferring, drawing conclusions
on a daily basis...
You don't even know she exist...
Weird.. but she is here..
and she knows everything about you
even if you don't tell..
even if you are being discreet...
Beware of this scary thing...
you wouldn't imagine could happen...
she is not anybody you know
She has no face...
She has no name...
She is in FACEBOOK...
and breathing your name...
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 10:10 PM UTC
You sit there analysing & testing my soul. After all the aches you caused me, I had to learn it the hard way.
For
I was born alone
Came to this world alone
Crawled alone walked alone
Gain knowledge alone
Let how to survive on my own.
Lost friends and my love ones along the way
And I'm still on my way to success
. In search of my soul, alone .Ride or Die? No. I leant to do everything alone.
Suffer alone.
Wiped my tears alone.
Yet u sit here and question ride or die, my response still No. My team is me and I alone. Never will I sacrifice to die for someone, if they will never put the effort to please me.
Ride or die.
I ride alone
I die alone.
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 10:46 PM UTC
This emotional feeling is known so well, to the eyes and to the touch, yet so difficult to see, grasping it and not asking for too much.
It bring joy and happiness to a lonely heart a sense of companion, yet so elusive to the soul, barren like the grand canyon.
The mind analysing this emotion call love that's gone through a subtle transformation, or is it just a vivid of the imagination.
Can this be happening? Can't make out the distinction, the word love that makes one smile or cry. Can it be facing extinction?
Perhaps a stealthy emotion that creeps up on one and vanishes, an insidious pleasure that poison the heart and removes your treasure.
The love that is known can be deleterious, hidden from the very people we know and love dearly but also can hurt and that can be serious.
Love is transient and not transparent, love is tangible and as beautiful as a emerald, know this emotion called love cause it will remain eternal.
Apr 13, 2012
Apr 13, 2012 at 4:26 AM UTC