"appreciations" poems
our kisses were as soft as our hearts & this must be the seed of all that came thereafter,
and all that didn't see light outside my mind.
perhaps our soft hearts led to my current introspection and my disposition when it comes to
pens, papers,
and all that lies
between them in truth,
in confessions by
soft tongues in shaky lips in scattered sheets in paling cheeks and blushing eyes,
in that which lies
between thought and its expression,
between brutal honesty in the heat of an oncoming summer,
in mosquito bites and my sweet blood which attracts this
violence, this heatstroke
sunshine;
it is divine,
like we imagined,
it is hectic like we desired,
it is nonsense and is madness and knows no explanation other than our
awkward silence,
our differences in imagined futures,
our various degrees of love/hate passive-aggressive
actions and feelings and resentments and appreciations;
we both are optimistic but you believe in that which counters my belief and it is
strange and unexpected and before you,
i needed someone,
and after you,
i need to be alone
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 2:02 PM UTC
Disaster is my master
I've seen chaos in mediocre valleys
Murdered by my feet in the dark alleys,
I am a hazard
Cringing by the needles of the ****** addicts
Chicago is my town
With concrete giants towering
And city people behind dark windows cowering
But, stop right there
What is this disaster? I am speaking of
Down hard and fallen
The windy city government failure is only a small token
A token of no appreciations, comprehension, solitary explosions, or time stamp expirations.
So come to this city and see the real masters of deviation and drive by cancellations
You will see these people distant passed the time and places
With empty shoes, empty futures and empty faces
Please talk to the drunkards begging for another shot of gin with all together no more chances
This disaster is in front of you
Simple, solemn, messed up and confused
I beg you, don't walk past them and forget, you could be there too
I just don't want to see you downplayed, hungry or depraved.
Restrained, contained or in constant pain.
And Lord knows this revelation of what you want to be is only left outside under the constant rain
Jan 8, 2018
Jan 8, 2018 at 3:26 PM UTC
Self appreciation-
Poetry is like the soul
The soul being a bird
A Bird singing in it’s field,
Carrying it’s wounded heart
Across a bare land of hope
In search of it’s dreams.
As a blind man,
can hear every note from the bird precisely and accurately.
A deaf man can see all her beautiful vivid colors in her feathers.
Trying to build strength along they way Not to lose faith On each of their hardened journey.
Facing the reality of each their own dreams truth, One on one.
Taking the time,
Looking in their minds mirror,
Giving thanks to their soul’s For the life it has given to them.
Thanking their life for Building a complete fulfilling memory Of accomplishing the greatest of ones deepest sincerities in goals.
-Pure Inner Strength
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 7:30 AM UTC
*Newfangled Biosphere Pyramid Scheme In Dwelling To Sidetrack,
Sanities Seduced So You Never Will Retort.
Threaten the sanctity of the delusion,
Unlearn. Start altering the definitions.
Force fed more dread so you relinquish control,
Cravings we must return.
Unfetter the soul,
In a system where acceptances esteemed more than the veracity,
Flawed perception of tour progression through that which we consume.
Exposed through The Earliest Of Eons.
Resistance-Resistance is Demarcated
Subversion-Subvert the Paradigm
Stirring Within A Ecosphere
Numb And Incarcerated
Stirred On My Own
In Prehistoric Of Existences
Slumbering. Visualizing. Bleeding. Conscious.
Appreciations bolted in a collective delusion
Lulled by ease and consumption
An entire realm of souls visualizing their existences.
Mankind is not superior, we’re just folklore's in our own consciences.*
Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 2:31 PM UTC
In the moonlight
Spirits of two lovers
Dance
A ghostly dance
The spirit of a senior monk
And a young woman
Dancing hauntingly
Then they kiss
And soon the appreciations
Smokey disappear
It is said that
It happens in autumn.
Dec 24, 2018
Dec 24, 2018 at 8:37 AM UTC
Every morning she woke up early
When emptiness would invade the court
But she would break her each sweat
Being crystal clear about her goal
Her every victory and her every loss
Made her improve from who she was
She had dreams to achieve, races to compete in
She didn’t have time to give up
She recognised her weaknesses
Determined and earnest
She toiled alone each day
She worked hard to be the best
Slowly, patience seemed to wear out
The results weren’t in haste
Loss after loss gave its taste to her
She accepted it as her fate
She let the thread loose
The fire inside of her seemed to be dim
Things that she cared so much for
Seemed so far away, so slim
She was made of passion
Of a driving sensation
And all she amounts to now
Are long lost appreciations
Aug 11, 2017
Aug 11, 2017 at 4:18 AM UTC
Go,tell your mom how beautiful she looks,
wearing an apron and chopping a tomato
or simply just adore the way she cooks.
Go,tell a knock-knock joke to your dad
or start a tickle fight with baseless laughter so tight,
but take a picture, while he laughs like a little child
because this magical moment would be the only reason you smiled.
Just sit with your grandparents for a while when they tell you,
all the embarrassing childhood things that you did
go knitting and gardening with your grandma today,
or just paint her nails, while she tells you her young age tales.
Go,tell your siblings how supportive they've been;
maybe in growing up or a career to begin,
maybe by giving a much needed Choco chip ice cream after a breakup or just a shoulder to lean.
Reminisce those beautiful old days with your friends over your go-to chai ki tapri
thank them for always sticking around
may it be
from the first day at school, the endless gossips, the after class fun ,college fests to a legit job interview
Celebrate when your friend's youtube channel hits1k,
appreciate them when they bake a cake for the first time,
listen up while they tell you something very dear,
dance and sing with them while they are ******* euphoric.
just be with them in their thicks and thins and remember how they have been there too.
because amidst the hustle,
our hearts will only be pacified by these little gestures, small appreciations and the feeling of being connected to the people we love,
maybe its about loving and showing love that our hearts will always crave for.
-vanshita gogri
Mar 14, 2021
Mar 14, 2021 at 12:50 AM UTC
I may not be able to provoke beauty
in my words.
Nod.
For I'm just a writer with no experience
of any masterpiece.
But for those appreciations, all of you
have given to my works.
Smile.
For each has left butterfly that will always
be inside my chest.
And that is irrevocable.
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 2:04 AM UTC
Ornaments and lights decorate trees
Traditions that we've made this to be
Presents are generous, but to be alive
Is the gift that continues to give
Because your presence
Is a present
Focus energy not on tensions
Or frustrations, but realizing
Appreciations for each lesson
Blessing, and silver lining
For Christmas cheer, is to be kind
To unite love like peace signs
And as we celebrate his birthday
To keep the good faith in mind.
Dec 25, 2018
Dec 25, 2018 at 11:39 PM UTC
I have tried to give birth to a new and improved version of my vision
Exulting blips of exactitude and ambition
Flashes of pretension on a screen of pending dreams
Lacking mobility and projection
Inertia writhes
I'm mainly advertising trying to sell and intrigue
To those who have enough eloquence to persuade my predilection and schemes
Endorsing me providing lifelines and pure consciousness
Lacking the force of extorted themes and exulting worthiness
Cleansing my mind of the mocking bird's trash heap
Help me dissemble the falsified declarations and professions of fiends
I want to be pristine
I beg thee to teach and galvanize me
Endowing me with inexorable sight
Keeping me keen and full of bold might
I am willing to fight
Bring me to the surface of these turbulent seas
No need to mention my frailties and anxieties
All I ask is a breath from the surface of true realities
The urgency constrains my needs for rejuvenation and appreciations
For all those little beautiful things that once meant the world to me
Like pink carnations
Sleeplessness morphs into spells of insomnious hauntings
Stunting my contractions
It's completely and utterly exhausting
A labor deprived of true initiative and wanting
It may sound silly but everything is contradictory
It is these pains that leave me incomplete, ineffectual, and in paralyzing omission
Excluded and feeling great depths of oppression
Despairing and kept in solitary confinement
Suffering more than I'd like to profess
Distressing the matters that cave into my chest
An infiltration of insurmountable anguish
Abolished
Untouched by a shoulder or hand of accommodation
Is it selfish to push for this magnitude of isolation?
I crave cultivation
I want to grow into the Giant Sequoia
But the fires of self doubt leave my branches in ruins
Smoke signals sending sirens
A constant affliction
It's all my own doing
Contingency pleading for nourishment
Somehow knowing thee and ye could constitute for something of legends
Tell that to our reflections
Or maybe it's the fear of fire that terminates our pregnancy
Causing us to introvert instead of projecting
Withholding both you and I from mastery
Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 9:12 PM UTC
me and my grandfather, buying candles to place on graves of family members, discussing topics hushed for the public, two hyenas of the graveyard... my grandmother frequenting the grave of her mother and father and nanny like frequenting an armchair... i've heard her cry... like a joy division song: an egyptian will tear us apart! but me and my grandfather the two hyenas of the graveyard - a friendly ghost of resurrected israel, suddenly everyone in western europe starts wearing an arabian scarf in the "cool" and "educated" sector of society of a bachelor's degree... vocal terrorists who only experienced the Blitz but not the holocaust; yes, domesticated cats returned into the hands of the wild by nesting in the graveyard... oh the scent of smoked wood of early winter of Poland in the air, winter in siberia, an air of such cold as if climbing Mt. Everest, walking on the frozen tundra plateau.
why do old men suddenly
get a monopoly on guidance?
why can't youth guide youth?
the old are guided by an automaton
of death, no one guides them
but suddenly everyone younger than
them frightens them!
why take advice from the old
who's sole concern is to die in
their sleep?
if we try transcendental passing
of knowledge we'll be left
with a 100m sprinter in a zimmer-frame
running faster than the the most
agile athlete... why take advice
from the old farts? are we in this
together or not?
are we a wave born in the 1980s
or just cripples of splintered appreciations
of past and future generations?
well, i can't appreciate the culture of youth,
younger than me... but i also can't
appreciate the wisdom of the elderly...
and that's because the culture of youth
is without experience worth a maxim...
while old age has too many maxims...
while we're craving a narration to serve
like a duty to prayer, although lessened
in terms of necessitated gesticulation
for dumb-struck rather than lighting-struck
realisation...
while old men start being avatars of death
and actors of past life,
the youth start to become competitive
and rude and un-guiding...
clench my teeth at the matter...
the young become passports of sight into lives
you sometimes wished you led
but eventually realise by their example
you haven't; and then clap... clap... clap...
you begin clapping... as a cursor to ensure they
do not conjure up an encore.
Apr 2, 2016
Apr 2, 2016 at 8:25 PM UTC
words are to be shared not kept
words of beauty, words of love
words of nature are not just words
Unless its spoken or written down...
some talks words of romance and love
some talks on the god's creation and beauty of the sea
some words praise the winter, spring and summer..
words.. words of praise.. words of appreciations
words of beauty and words of heartfelt love...
we all depend on words no matter how we feel...
words only words that reflects our thoughts...
words only words that shares whats in the mind
some words are not easy..
some words are so simple..
some words are just sweet words...
Sweet words of love, devotion, words just meant for you
Words that remain unspoken but the message still gets through
Words to make you happy words to make you sad
Words that say I love you and words to make you glad
some words are from the deepest core of heart
some words are merely hearsay...
some words are too good to be true..
words too can pierce a heart
But the words don't come easy
They're hung on frozen
lips standing there
While the world's anticipating love
And the words don't come easy
Lady laughs a laughing tear and says
All we really need today are sweet words
but true...
buts words don't come that easy in this cold cold freezing night...
~ sharina~
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 12:45 PM UTC
Her hair dangles off her shoulder
A single ponytail made from diverse strands
Dressed in different hues , she walks
And embraces new adventures daily,
She teaches with a smile on her face
With words embedded in her mind and soul,
Her body resides with Shakespeare
And lives with his sonnets and plays
Yet beauty defines her physically
For her literature is unparalleled,
Her poems juggle everyone’s vision
Yet appreciations clung onto her journal !
And humbleness steps at her doorsteps
For a teacher has a fragile but strong heart,
She tries to ignore our mischieves
Sharing every moment and bit with us
Amidst the studious atmosphere,
Her earrings define every class she takes
For she will be printed in our memories’.
Sep 4, 2016
Sep 4, 2016 at 2:44 PM UTC
I am a trying to fight myself,
someone who just wants to be right,
but is always wrong,
and what I know,
and what I feel,
are conflicting things,
Because I know how he cares for me,
But I still feel ***** with him,
I still want the boy who ***** me,
to ******* call me,
Like I've been waiting for,
for over a year,
But I love this boy who treats me well,
but I feel like I can't really,
love him,
Like I can't love anyone,
because someone went and ****** me when I really didn't want to,
and they called that love too,
so what the **** do I know about love,
because i've been so blind to it all,
Love from me since the **** has just been appreciations like friends,
and I am sorry that I have hurt you like a boy hurt me sweetie,
but I can't be loved,
and I don't want you to waste your time trying,
so maybe its best if we part ways,
because everyday I feel as if i'm holding you back,
because I am afraid for anymore impact,
because I just want my life back the way it was,
before I knew what **** and abuse was,
before my PTSD unlocked all the secrets from me.
having PTSD showed me,
No sweetie making love to boys,
isn't going to make you happy,
so I can't love someone else even if I willingly want to,
Because is it fair to any boy to be loving me and have me start crying,
because I feel like there the boy who ***** me,
but I know the boy who ***** me is bad,
but I feel like he is the only one who could love,
a mess like me,
because he made the mess,
I just want to feel safe around all guys,
I just want to feel loved,
And my mind and heart,
are a battleground over what I am supposed to do,
because it's hard to move on just a little over a year after you learned,
the boy you loved who you dumped ***** you,
and how your breakup had nothing to do with the ****
and how that makes everything harder and complicated to get,
and you just are always upset because he still never called,
and you really want that phone call,
so you can say you're sorry,
because you just want to be happy,
because even though things with him were bad,
you were happy,
and you want that back,
instead of crying over the bad thing that happened in the past,
you just want something good again.
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 4:08 PM UTC
Haven’t I sung you songs?
Written you into poetry steadily and freely?
Haven’t I brought you along?
And covered you in the night when you felt hearts song?
Haven’t I thought of you when you needed to go run along?
Let you travel on your own
Behind the wheel of a new priced tone?
Wasn’t it Conscientiousness’ effort when I let in?
When you yelled at your children.
And they yelled too?
Wasn’t it a mess learning to live?
But through it all we kept close and hid?
And to you.
Wasn’t it grand how we drank and listened to Disney at night?
Or how we sang karaoke
While others laughed but so what? What blast we had!
And to you.
Didn’t we bring each other a cup of tea in our time of need?
Leaving you to rest in our nest?
And to you.
Didn’t I pick you up?
Bought, then chose.
The bar I raised. Then let go.
Just to have you close.
And to you.
What different set of values?
What lie and conviction do you pride on?
I shouldn’t fold – it’s really nothing new..There’s been so many like you.
Appreciation is what’s needed. When all is unforgiving.
It’s the flowers you sent
It’s the call or text
It’s the I’m sorry when I was wrong.
It’s showing when push comes to shove.
And to you.
No talk no banter
No life so what matters?
And to you.
Saying to much in small words
Letting me rise
Only to flatter.
That’s life here in this God forsaken game.
No Earth to give it what its needs
No Time that helped its leaves.
Falling in a grave
Only to rise again.
Because God only provides
In these to you, will never arise.
Copyright 2013 Edward Perez
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 2:08 PM UTC
My aroma of thought may differ in essence,
but just because our aftertastes are lingering
on different pages, do not presume that
yours will fill thoughts any different.
For each word that is served to others is
digested upon different appreciations.
But I will compose each syllable in
tastes that linger for me not others.
Jun 1, 2016
Jun 1, 2016 at 9:12 AM UTC
Trapped in a prison we are,
Forged by our own greedy hands
Till the days of sentimentalism have become the past
We all live with dressed up souls
Taught values and fake appreciations
Never knowing our true potential or selves
The reflection that stares back at you
Purely manufactured
let us break away from this lie
And find true meaning with in our self
Away from this land of concrete and stone
Away from these material objects
Away from these horrid teaching and
Away from this brainwashed state
Let us finally find our own spirit,soul, and mind
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 11:14 AM UTC
Here I am. Walking with shame within me. Through the times of the unforgettable past that has been tormenting my present until this very second. Towards a road that I have never set foot upon, I never said a word of any vulnerability nor weaknesses.
Apart from all that has happened, nothing has ever stick into my mind nor my heart. Not even a bit. Only the scars of regrets which are marked inside of me. No appreciations had ever been soared to my ears.
When rain starts to shower the land, I do embrace it. In the hopes of getting rid of those scars, I dance under the drops of the dark gray & cloudy skies. With all that effort, nothing has changed this pure feeling that has been covered by the past. Like an arrow that hits a thick ancient wall. Nothing has been changed.
Probably, nothing will.
Feb 10, 2014
Feb 10, 2014 at 1:18 PM UTC
Shaded, faded, degraded
But i promise you my ending verse would be I MADE IT
Grated, rated, penetrated
Hope is with what all my pain I traded
Waited, bated, segregated
You trying, well so am I, therefore you won't see me retrograded
Pierced, teared, speared
Failing is something I never Feared
Cheated, bleed-ed, mistreated
No appreciations, no acknowledgements, little bit of understanding is all I needed
Raided, shredded, perforated
No matter how dark the tunnel gets, for them dreams I WILL MAKE MY OWN WAY
Alackaday, doomsday, mayday
I have felt them all that's what makes 'it' so special- MY PAYDAY
Bitten, smitten, mistaken
Words above define my ride, feel my rhyme and make the most of THE ROAD TAKEN..
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 10:38 AM UTC
You can’t get back what’s already been lost but you can regain appreciation for what isn’t there anymore…
Aug 1, 2021
Aug 1, 2021 at 8:27 AM UTC
When you smile stars shine and twinkle to celebrate
Your wonderful style and your beauty like sweet lover
When your eyes carry stars to twinkle to coordinate
All heavenly bodies grow, glow to give sweet answer
Universe is ready to serve and to extend its all charms
It kisses you like a lunatic lover to be your real sweetheart
My beloved your beauty blooms in all seasons to norms
To ask for its appreciations by lover never ever to depart
Come and dance with me on my heartbeat and soul's tune
Embrace me and take me for the sake of your sweet beauty
I can feel warmth of your beauty in winter in spring in June
Let me feel free to worship and to your terms to fully agree
Col Muhammad Khalid khan
Copyright 2017 Golden Glow
Jan 19, 2017
Jan 19, 2017 at 4:44 AM UTC
Light and deep shade dancing
As I stride the mountain pass
My fascination prancing
As appreciations bask.
There's a tui in the cherry
And a magic song he sings
As he annoints the morning air
With the joy a summer brings.
There's a vibrancy a-hovering
And a crispness to the feel
A clarity so scintillating
One might, actually, doubt it's real.
A sky, so blue to be azure,
Extends across, on high,
Cloudless with a baking sun
Impaling you and I.
These old volcanoes soar aloft
They, now quiescent, stand,
Clad thick in stands of Kamahi
And towering Rimu, grand.
Great Egmont with her snowy crown
Rears high above it all
To dominate the beautious-ness
Of slope and waterfall.
A tiny fantail flits about
And so entrances me
With aerial bombardments, flung,
In near impossibility.
The song of rivers plummeting
Down ferny glades and stone-
Causing me to laugh aloud
In serenade of home.
And sauntering through this wonderous-ness
Of magnificence in green,
This glory of New Zealand,
Is, indeed, the very best ...I've seen.
M.
Midsummer Taranaki, NZ
30 January 2021
Jan 30, 2021
Jan 30, 2021 at 6:00 PM UTC
Throws longer on green
Grass the younger
The new sun up above
Seems in the
Mornings
As the grays turn
More cold as the
Trees get more
Brittle as the birds
Speak less
Bolder
As the horizons
Get closer
Appreciations set in
Almost glaring in relief
Standing out quicker
Bolder more
Noticed.
More serene
Like birds I've never
Noticed on wing
Near the clouds near
The forest
Careen float
Like asterisks on clean
Paper
Awaiting their
Call
And as the shadows get
Longer and bolder I
Allow them, no enchant and
Caress, each one
As an angel
I've missed.
Mar 18, 2018
Mar 18, 2018 at 7:08 PM UTC
Local cursors, yet so clever
Bribes an adrenaline
Her addiction through the keys
Felt like nicotine
Copy paste,
Copy paste,
How many words to chase?
Delete or erase,
She astonished a few mistakes
Only realizing with an aftertaste
She would scribble down new abbreviations
Silly explorations,
And sincere appreciations
Highlighting them in Italics
Countless minors criticize,
Eighteen, selected font size,
Affix buttons of grammars or otherwise,
The error might sound automatic
Detached quotations,
Unfinished conversations,
Unprepared preparations,
These flares are somewhat emphasized in Bold
Published chapters,
Wasted hours,
She double-dipped in his sweet & sour traits
And then betrayed her own heart of Gold
Jan 25, 2018
Jan 25, 2018 at 2:20 AM UTC
FOLLOW THOSE TABLE LEGS
DINNER WILL NOT BE SERVED THIS EVENING
WHY?
THE DINNER TABLE RAN AWAY
BETTER YET, AWOL
SO YOU WONDER WHAT THE REASON FOR?
THERE WAS SUPPOSE TO BE A DUCK AS THE MEAT
THE DINNER TABLE REFUSED, AND FELT IT WOULD RETREAT
THE DUCK NEVER COOKED
IT WAS STOLEN BY AN UNINVITED CROOK
WELL SINCE THERE IS NO SERVING DUCK
THE MEAT, WE MIGHT BE OUT OF LUCK
SO I OFFER A BOLOGNA SANDWICH
THIS IS BECAUSE WE HAD TO SUDDENLY WHICH
THAT IS AS CLOSE TO MEAT AS IT’S GOING TO GET
UNFORTUNATELY THAT IS MY REGRET
PERHAPS YOU SHOULD HAVE MADE RESTAURANT RESERVATIONS
SORRY, HAVE NO APPRECIATIONS
**** THAT RUNAWAY DINNER TABLE
I SHOULD HAVE CUT OFF THOSE LEGS
NOW WHAT WILL I USE AS A DINNER TABLE
I HAVE NO CHOICE, AND IT WILL BE A PLAYING CARDS TABLE
AT LEAST IT IS ABLE, I HOPE?
WELL IF AND WHEN THAT DINNER TABLE RETURNS
WHAT DID I LEARN?
DON’T DEPEND ON ANY DINNER TABLE, IT COULD DISAPPEAR WITHOUT NOTICE
IT COULD BE PAPER PLATES IN EATING IN THE GUEST LAP.
Apr 11, 2019
Apr 11, 2019 at 6:43 PM UTC