"appreciative" poems
live life in warm yellows
when the sky is a dark gray and the clouds are a loveless black
live life in light pinks
when the trees are dying browns and the flowers are wilting ebonys
live life in bright blues
when the waters are a wild taupe and the sand is a rough onyx
live life in the colors of life;
for life is exquisite
but to see such radiance and beauty,
one must be appreciative and live life in warm yellows
reds,
oranges,
greens,
blues,
indigos,
and violets.
life is full of color, but one must be able see that to truly enjoy living
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 6:38 PM UTC
Boys and Girls,
If they’re not gracious for that simple feather kiss in the middle of the forehead
They’ll never be appreciative for anything else you have to offer ;)
Know when to RUN 🏃♂️
Feb 18, 2023
Feb 18, 2023 at 4:27 AM UTC
so dangerous, so destructive, so isolative, such a waste of time and energy. Insecurity... the thing that destroys relationships, self confidence, and innocence. Oh, it's not just puberty, it effects all ages. Why do I let you effect me, why do I have to care what other people think of me, why do I strive for people's approval, why can't I be ok with myself, why do I care about things I've never cared about before. Why I am jealous of some person's cooler stuff, why can't I be appreciative about what I already have? Why am I so intimidated of higher powers. Why do I care if somebody's better than me at something. Insecurity, it all comes down to Insecurity.
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 6:38 PM UTC
Now i am broken,
I can never be fixed.
Because my problem's internal,
it's not just a glitch.
It's making me horrible,
it's giving me doubt.
And makes me question
what I've been talking about.
I want you more
than I could ever say.
But all is lost,
every single day.
When i can't see you,
I lose my way.
And i forget
to live,
love,
and play.
For nothing is better
than loving life with you.
So i will wait around,
seeing what ensues.
I love you for you,
and all the things that you do.
And i wouldn't change anything,
except what you've been through.
You weren't
shown gratitude,
for love given
that's past.
So i will be appreciative,
so your love for me will last.
Because no one understands me
better than yourself.
You are my one and only,
the sweetest little elf.
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 3:19 AM UTC
Every time
I see a father with his daughter
I feel the need to thank him
For being good to her
Because she probably isn't as appreciative
As she would be
If she knew what it was like
To live without his love
Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 6:11 PM UTC
loved seeing your face
knowing you fell asleep when you normally don’t
hearing your laugh
Recognising voice
Before I knew you were there
My failed attempts at sneaking up on you
With every thought,
I find how much I miss your humor
Our daily conversations;
About everything.
Opening up to you came so naturally
The acceptance you showed
Respect you exserted
The confidence you gave me
The positive outlook on life
All things I learned
Just by knowing you
How easy the “L” word was to say
Not many people do I say “I love you”
Although I can’t help but hate myself “
I let myself get attached.
Without you
I’m vulnerable.
As I make impulsive decisions.
I walk with my head up
And act like everything is perfect.
Im aware I only hurt myself;
Wanting to be alone
But longing to be alone with you.
To tell you why I’m upset
Wanting to believe you
When you said you loved me
But with that expectation
I find myself broken and alone.
Although now;
I know what I want
Is what I can’t have
Continuing without you?
Not only broken and alone
But the feeling of desire
Once again;
For someone I can’t have
No way to feel as optimistic
As I once did around you
Can’t bring myself to talk to anyone.
Knowing they’ll misunderstand
Staying occupied seems best;
Avoiding the thought of you
Being so passionately spontaneous
Not passing up an opportunity
Keeping myself busy
Nervous at the mention of your name.
Hoping to find you
And that you’ll come home okay
I miss you.
I love you.
I just want you home
Until then I’m counting the days
Attempting to be happy and appreciative
But with you gone;
My happiness is as well
It’s quite unfortunate how it all played out,
The haircut,The uniform
I’ve always supported your decision
But it’s affecting me
More than I thought it would
I’m more proud of you than I’ve ever been of anything
I know you’ll stay safe
And you’ll come home happy
I look forward to that
Just promise me something..
“Keep your shoes tied.”
Feb 28, 2017
Feb 28, 2017 at 12:00 PM UTC
1.
Look! two butterflies entangled
in the thick of love, try extricating,flapping wings
girl, forget you're a doctor,let love resolve it.
2.
A strawberry touches her lips,
astonished I stop eating my peach;
where does the fruit end, her lips begin?
3.
Your dad is conservative,
mother is moderately appreciative,
every move of amour, has to be politically sensitive.
4.
On this bikini your body prattles,
a language unintelligible through, I am all ears,
darling, make your body speak, the lingo it truly appreciates.
5.
Water nymph, your bodyhugging dress
simultaneously does myriad things,
talks erotica, tries seduction,makes me a fool fumbling for words.
Mar 22, 2015
Mar 22, 2015 at 9:15 AM UTC
When I was younger my mom had a cape.
I used to believe she was some superhero that came and saved us whenever we needed.
And I can’t tell you how many times she came to my rescue.
Through scraped knees, broken hearts, blistered fingers and life changing conflicts, she was there holding out her hand.
I used to think my mother owned the world.
She had a way to make it seem like it stopped spinning when she tucked us in at night.
Like we were the only things that mattered when the moon fell.
She battled Love, proper balance and belonging for years. But I couldn’t be more appreciative that we were the motive behind her struggles.
She was a wrecking ball labeled with dedication.
Destroying buildings full of poverty and mental *******
And she even helped clean up the debris.
I’ve never seen anyone stand so tall after being knocked down so many times. It makes me feel weightless in knowing I have such a gravity shifting role model.
So this Christmas I won’t wish for anything for myself.
I won’t ask for anything to help sort out my troubled thoughts or materialistic struggles.
And I certainly won’t entail anything that strays from you being the subject matter of today.
All I do ask is that you Love yourself as much as I Love you.
You are the strongest, most intelligent and most inspiring woman I will ever know and I’m so lucky to be able to call you my mother.
I am forever cherishing you bringing me into this world and raising me the way you have. I take lessons from you daily and I’ve ended up more than fine.
Thank you, for being you.
I Love you, mom.
Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 12:48 PM UTC
Shadows of my reflection. I found bliss in crawling on walls freely, camouflaging with the dark and the moon's exposure whereby my identity surfaced.
My emancipation from the mundane. Stay right beside you though you aren't around,I repetitively question who am I? We're one yet separate entities. I enjoy knowing you're around though at times you disappear when I'm in the dark. (Erase the last line)I'm appreciative of the shelter you provide. There was harmony in my resonance with nyctophilia.
You're always here with me. I'm always here with you. Nothing contrary to that.
May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 1:19 PM UTC
she was a fiery soul
emotions spilled out of her cup
like a bittersweet wine
an aftertaste of tears
salty as the sea rushing beneath me
heartfelt as the lonely moonrise
burning like the hearth of home remembered vivid but far
inviting you back from your cold journeys
the faceless sea's of humanity's wanderlust
from the dark romances of uncaring hearts
feel your heartbeat thunder in the stillness
hearing your tear ravaged breathing
as you struggle to find solace in sleep
her words carried on the thick air remembered vivid but far
like swans floating on the still waters of childhood
like images my heart paints when
her electric touch torches my soul
she leaves a wake of silence and
appreciative eyes behind her drifting the worlds ways
she comes to my bed now
slips into my cold sheets
and with lips forsworn to her fiery tongue's wicked ways
and crafts a bird from blood and bone
a flightless swan that will forever be companion to
to my seasong
moonrise comes with a silence
that my heart can never greet with joy
Jul 26, 2016
Jul 26, 2016 at 5:19 PM UTC
how Eye make love,
this popped into my head
tho questioning this quest,
what purpose served, unknown...
lacking the infatuation to poetry write,
the mind retreats to the basics,
eye write with no destination,
wondering at the wonderment
of this basic actionable accolade...
sometimes,
be the
operative word,
sometimes
cooperative,
is the operative...
sometimes,
is but a
it just depends
who
is the initiate
and who possesses the initiative...
every story has a different
author, ending...
sometimes slow,
sometimes muy rapido
in foreign tongues
in foreign places,
the only commonality be that
wonderment
eye wish this not to be explanation,
eye wish this to be an explication
of the texts of sensual visionaries,
imagining the helping to happening,
the passageway to and from
where the mind begins,
the body completes its origination
oft I close my Eyes,
listening to hers,
her eye voices directing me,
what will be the course of our
course,
miss no Michelin starred landscapes,
through hers, mine Eyes triumphant...
tour guide excellente
cannot explain
why the temp sometimes
solar flares,
why the temp sometimes
is a glacial expedition,
tongue led,
from toes to eyelids...
always buy tickets for a
round trip flight...
how
is a titillation, begging you to read & expose,
there is no how, only sometimes better,
sometimes different...
why
is a question needs no asking...
when
when the shape of her profiled neck,
reflects shadows of further inquiry,
when her décolletage collects me
as she and her designer intended...
when
she laughs uproariously at my piquant,
suave and debonair one liners,
requiring kissing tickling calming
when
tears spill when reading
a new takeaway poem mine,
needy for a tongue to collect that spillway...
just being friendly appreciative and thanking
where
is when
the how and
the why
intersect
the intemperate weather of
being alone
subtle suggests
auto recollections
now know
the how, when, where and the
why,
my Eyes compose this elegy
of memories of past and present...
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 9:18 AM UTC
It’s that choo choo sound
.The steam puffing up with the movement in being anywhere bound.
First thing when the conductor says, “All Aboard”
The destination sign that suddenly appears from the board
.The wheels that start of churn
.The coal car on the train burning like a hot urn
.The thought the engine pulling the entire car load
.The movement having power and the look of behold
.As the Engineer ***** the bell and the engine horn
.It’s the Engineer actually saying to the boy, “Railing fantasy my treat”.
Being an Engineer takes endurance and feat
.Well Tom Othello was a lover of trains
.His Grandfather being a retired Engineer having a history and in Tom’s heart that will remain.
It was the beauty of the Super Chief
.As the Super Chief whisked by in hot summers gave some coolness being a relief.
Well seeing the Super Chief and passenger cars up close and personal made Tom appreciative of trains even more
.However, Tom was determined to explore.
There was a toy model Super Chief train set
The Train Cometh Hobby Shop knew the Super Chief was going to be a good bet.
But the question being would Tom’s parents let?
It took plenty of convincing to buy the Super Chief set
. However, Tom held onto that train set as if it was a loving pet.
Tom had that train running all through the house
.The Super Chief being a welcome arrival into a little boy’s place.
One thing that is for sure, the experience cannot be erased.
It was an enchanted ride
.We all took it in being our stride
.Well the Super Chief puffs to an endless rail
.The Super Chief thanks everyone for following in the trail
.As the Super Chief rides into the sunset, it’s one puff after another, and saying good-bye and another puff in don’t cry.
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 7:07 PM UTC
They walked in together with flushed faces and cold ears, after walking for what seemed like minutes in the coniferous forest surrounding the cedar cabin. Those minutes were actually hours, but when they were out here time did a funny thing and sometimes stopped all together. He hung their coats in the closet as she stripped herself of boots and socks, with bare cold feet she walked across the patterned carpet feeling its fibres between her toes. She perched herself on the couch in her favourite reading spot. He then too assumed his position on the couch allowing a space inside his outreached arm to be filled by her appreciative body. As she blankly gazed at the green life out the window, he gazed at her. Memorizing the freckles on the bridge of her nose and the way she puckered her lips without noticing. Absorbing all of her for a keepsake in case she decided to disappear as fast as she had come. This girl, he thought, is the most beautiful combination of genes and timing I have encountered in my life. But he didn’t mean physically, he meant her laugh and her stubbornness and how she believed she was spontaneous but every moment of her life was planned. It scared him how much and how detailed he saw his future, and how she was undoubtedly in it as far as he was concerned. Sometimes he wished he didn’t feel so much for her, for them. He had been hurt before and he grew accustomed to the calluses around his heart.
She breathed it all in, slowly but thoroughly. She breathed in the warmth of the burning furnace, the smell of wood that was still alive. She breathed in his sent of musk, soap, and mint. She breathed in his delicious smell of love, his pheromones. This place was exactly what they needed, some time in a surreal place to remember each other and how well they used to fit. How well they do fit. The stress and distractions of everyday life were tugging at the strings that kept them woven together. All they needed was time to be silent together, time to think together about different things. She knew that their hands and souls would fit together again like they always had, if they just gave it a chance. And now, here they were in their own made happiness. Sitting here as one piece of human, making love in the most innocent of ways.
Jan 15, 2013
Jan 15, 2013 at 4:10 PM UTC
My mind blazes with an inferno of music.
Notes created to play
Point, counter-point, one to another,
To flame into blazing fury.
Tiny tinkling notes crash
To low sonorous tones.
Metallic vibrations lead to
Unearthly bursts of melancholy discord.
Not for the pretentious musician
But for the appreciative of symphonic quality
Such that would ignite a Phoenix.
Jul 5, 2011
Jul 5, 2011 at 9:39 AM UTC
You never know how much time you have,
Time is a gift,
Time is precious,
Time is fleeting,
Time is short.
Make each little moment count,
A moment is smelling,
A moment is truly seeing,
A moment is touching,
A moment is feeling.
Live each day as if it were your last,
A day can be full,
A day is dark and light,
A day is new,
A day is fresh.
Live happy with what you have,
Live to be happy,
Live to be appreciative,
Live to learn,
Live to enjoy others.
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 4:29 PM UTC
One day ,
I want to wake
And feel delighted
to see a new day come by
feel blessed to be alive
feel hopeful , feel appreciative
and not feel disappointed
that I have to survive today somehow
One day ,
I want to not want someone's else life
not wish to be in someone else shoe
wish not to be like someone else
be happy with who I am
and fall in love with the life , I've been given
not to feel the despair and the unknown fear
One day ,
I wish I will accomplish
to love myself the way I am
to be happy with what I have
One day ,
I hope I get to see that day
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 2:08 PM UTC
I notice the symmetry in your face
You look in every direction but mine
We rush and crash through the night
Across traintracks, through tunnels
I admire the strong structures
Glowing beneath these festive lights
You are hiding insecurities behind
A temporary mask of excitement
Could-have-been tragedies
Become appreciative victories
We are mere trembling bodies
Amongst a crowd of confidence
Relief pours over us, flowing fast
Reducing our uncertainties
Reusing forgotten identities
Recycling mistreated potential
Relaxing, finally in tact...
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 12:18 PM UTC
She would rub her feet,
in socks alone,
across the carpet.
She would carefully touch
nothing on her way out,
or at school.
Then she would reach out to him.
She had heard the myths
about love at first sight.
About a bolt of electricity
passing from one person
to another.
She tried so hard to recreate it.
To fake it.
Years later she would stare
out at the city from her
apartment and wonder
what tomorrow would bring.
She had become part
of a system that ignored her,
but she was used to that kind
of system.
At night she would write.
Fiction her plaything.
She would write stories
but she didn't let people
read them, because they
couldn't know that, this too,
was a part of who she was.
She had learned that
other people killed dreams.
With countless kindness.
They would talk about
how talented she was
until she felt confident.
But never confident enough
to show a publisher.
She liked her audience small
and appreciative.
Later still she would look
back on her life and wonder
what would happen if she
stood up and took the
chance.
Could she have moved,
with just her words,
other people to see her?
Could she have been
electricity?
Her thoughts,
her words,
moving from her
to another,
like love.
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 4:13 AM UTC
*the ones warring on the flag of defeat can't be called either troll or parasite... too noble such entitlements, they are the **** genus worthy of ignorance, that they are found roaring on the flag of defeat, when such publicity is allowed of public musing deeper than soft-spoken in one's own room, as transcript of thought made public, ironically without one's geographic coordinates... and what lack of honour to be warring with such circumstances being allowed.*
i shouldn't have written my words among poets,
too many simplicities surrounded them,
with the poets came made surrogates,
a stillbirth, if nothing more
9 months of **** as the new economics
that gave us appreciative homosexuality,
a curbing of the expeditions of population
we didn't blame on Chinese or Blue Indians
due to having inherited masochistic Christianity,
the last greek mythology, THE, LAST!
and no more from the greek tongue! no more!
then the second feat of the suffragettes
that became the surrogates...
and yet, i stilled braved to sing
for the escapist tongue of
brotherhood that the misty mountain's cold
encapsulated... in which i braved
the brotherhood, every, second, counter,
to marriage to a woman...
domestication is no adventure! it's no adventure!
there is no fear and sudden death in
domestication... it breeds cattle! readied for
death not ready! *two dungeons deep and caverns old...
the pines were roaring on the hight!
the winds were mourning in the night...
the fire was red it flamed and spread,
the trees like torches, blazed with light.*
this... this is my ideal afterlife! take your Koran
and terrorism and take a **** in the desert with
the cats for worth of knowing such "exquisiteness"
as it might be worth mining in the dunes of sand!
while the thirst of metalloid and abstract horse-tow
gives your false timing...
and when you take this anger written on the flag
of defeat, and turn to warring with it on your own
flag of defeat... you will be conquered,
slain and tortured, as is my promise, always
honourable.
May 12, 2016
May 12, 2016 at 7:36 PM UTC
Everyday is a blessing
It is a gift that has been given
Be more appreciative
Love your life and start living
Take things one step at a time
Let nature run its course
Move those mountains
Be a power source
Mar 26, 2017
Mar 26, 2017 at 9:03 PM UTC
Mountains of pain is what I have been foretold
Waves of confusion for my being and all that is
Constantly questioning everything in a dark world that is painfully cold
I apologize for sometimes being so terrible with words as I am trying to express the gratitude I have within me
I try my best to seem appreciative, to seem friendly
Positive perspectives in this life I know I may lack
Many emotions I refuse to show to the world because I know very well how they can be belittled or mocked behind my back
Empathy I feel for those who share feelings similar to how I do, for they should never
I’m quite good at persuading others in believing positive lies about life, I’m what you may call clever
The truth is we are all inevitably doomed for an earth that cannot handle all of our weight
I returned to these same earthly grounds after many centuries, perhaps too late
Misunderstood, is my old soul to this generation, but perhaps it was always
Each day I find myself wishing, begging for clearer days
Time is a wheel that never stops
Silence greets us when we are alone at night, yet the chaos screams so very loud within our deepest thoughts
Music grips my saddened soul, warming me to my core
Bringing me company, somewhat soothing the pain I fail to ignore
I often sit and remind myself how there is good in this world and it shall win over the evil.. or at least this is what people believe
Evil often hunches over me, but I need the light to shine through the darkest depths of my being so the stress and discontent inside can perhaps heal, perhaps relieve
I take what comes whether it may be fair or not
I’m unsure of how many demons I have even successfully fought
Familiar feelings I have carried with me, heavy as my fatigued eyes
The belief that I will get better may just be nothing but lies, lies, lies.
Dec 20, 2021
Dec 20, 2021 at 3:00 AM UTC
i don't regret
meeting anyone that i've met
anyone that i have loved
i will not forget
they have broadened my playlist
introduced me to all different styles
i have come to appreciate my playlist
that has been growing for a while
someone introduced me to indie
someone else what they played in the 60's
and Mr. current listens to classic
appreciative of music without lyrics
i've never known what to listen to
i grew up on rock and roll
so thank you to all those i've loved and will love
you have deeply affected my soul.
Oct 26, 2013
Oct 26, 2013 at 8:32 PM UTC
In depths of my unfathomable psyche
Submerged I find myself floating around in the ‘shallow’ societal sea of our world.
Oh but it is not ‘shallow’ you’ll see
It is a deep blue ocean that withholds great mystery;
& those who see it as ‘shallow’
Are only those who stand in clouds of constant oblivion; Ceasing the inhale of beauty, intellect, and individuality.
In the depths of my unfathomable psyche
Throughout every passing day
I observe, I listen, and I take into account the things that are done and said by every individual person I come across.
Now here I sit, in the complete abduction of the beautiful, yet merciless monster called insomnia, without fail of corse accompanied by her sister solitude;
& I reflect.
In the depths of my unfathomable psyche
I realize that in order to best express the realization of my reflection…
I must let my walls down; so I will.
And now that I have…
The word to describe the feeling that takes over ‘me’ in this very moment is one that acquires the ability to depict ones exact feelings in a way I do not obtain.
In the depths of my unfathomable psyche
I feel lonely because I know that the odds of me meeting someone as insane as me are slight; yet I feel appreciative because I couldn’t imagine possessing such an ugly, close minded, and indifferent insight.
I feel a type of sadness that could only emerge from a person that fears never getting to experience the comfort that comes from acceptance; yet i feel overwhelming excitement and longing in the midst of my hopeless romantic type daydream of the possibility that I will find my somebody that does not seek to comprehend or figure me out but will accept ever corner and color I currently am and everything I have yet to become
I feel pitty for the average;
Yes I am not sane
Yes I am not average
And yes the depths of my true thoughts I have not learned to control; but my insanity is and will always be the fuel to my potential.
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 2:18 PM UTC