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"assuring" poems
Ode to a Sunflower I dare not speak against her beauty; beauty which encompasses the spirit of truth, the spirit of faithfulness, the spirit of light. I was walking alone in desolation when I encountered the blinding sight of my sunflower. There it was staring at me with its inviting eyes, eyes which seemed a little lost, a little troubled, a little like mine. My hand trembled as it wiped the disbelief from my vision. The seeds which I had planted in an attempt to dispel my restless woes had sprout up in a seemingly un-fertile place, a place where I could not fathom I would find my Sunflower. But there it was in all its beauty: eloquent, mysterious and enchanting. A vivid portrait of heavenly grace. all could witness , yet, one could possess. I dare not speak against her beauty; beauty which encompasses the spirit of truth, the spirit of faithfulness, the spirit of light. From the moment I found my sunflower I did my best to nurture it, watering its spirit from sunrise to sunset. The beauty for which it possessed was captivating; stirring my very being like no other flower has prior. I spent days, months and years analyzing this gem. I wondered why this sunflower was so singular in its splendor, why after so long in my possession was it still shining brighter than a summer star painted against a black night. My admiration and love for this sunflower matured uncontrollably, cultivating in a whirlwind of blissful sunshine. I dare not speak against her beauty; beauty which encompasses the spirit of truth, the spirit of faithfulness, the spirit of light. Though my sunflower possesses the strength of a thousand armies and the magnificence of a thousand smiles, I sense a feeling of weakness when the wicked birds of prey attempt to uproot it from its rightful plot. I caress its pedals and speak to it softly assuring that there is a purpose for the gloom, and that upon all of us the rain of opposition will fall. I clutch its head into mine as splendid pedals of fluorescent beauty tickle my face, making me blush with joy. I whisper to my sunflower as I drop my seed next to her stalk, and I tell it that no matter what storms may sing, there will be no challenge to our garden as long as we continue to grow together.
0
Apr 12, 2012
Apr 12, 2012 at 12:43 AM UTC
ryan-jones
Ode to a Sunflower
Ode to a Sunflower I dare not speak against her beauty; beauty which encompasses the spirit of truth, the spirit of faithfulness, the spirit of light. I was walking alone in desolation when I encountered the blinding sight of my sunflower. There it was staring at me with its inviting eyes, eyes which seemed a little lost, a little troubled, a little like mine. My hand trembled as it wiped the disbelief from my vision. The seeds which I had planted in an attempt to dispel my restless woes had sprout up in a seemingly un-fertile place, a place where I could not fathom I would find my Sunflower. But there it was in all its beauty: eloquent, mysterious and enchanting. A vivid portrait of heavenly grace. all could witness , yet, one could possess. I dare not speak against her beauty; beauty which encompasses the spirit of truth, the spirit of faithfulness, the spirit of light. From the moment I found my sunflower I did my best to nurture it, watering its spirit from sunrise to sunset. The beauty for which it possessed was captivating; stirring my very being like no other flower has prior. I spent days, months and years analyzing this gem. I wondered why this sunflower was so singular in its splendor, why after so long in my possession was it still shining brighter than a summer star painted against a black night. My admiration and love for this sunflower matured uncontrollably, cultivating in a whirlwind of blissful sunshine. I dare not speak against her beauty; beauty which encompasses the spirit of truth, the spirit of faithfulness, the spirit of light. Though my sunflower possesses the strength of a thousand armies and the magnificence of a thousand smiles, I sense a feeling of weakness when the wicked birds of prey attempt to uproot it from its rightful plot. I caress its pedals and speak to it softly assuring that there is a purpose for the gloom, and that upon all of us the rain of opposition will fall. I clutch its head into mine as splendid pedals of fluorescent beauty tickle my face, making me blush with joy. I whisper to my sunflower as I drop my seed next to her stalk, and I tell it that no matter what storms may sing, there will be no challenge to our garden as long as we continue to grow together.
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8
*Such a lovely ring, she said. It even looks good on my ugly hands. As if those hands were lacking. As if those hands – hard working hands – Bore no beauty of their own. My mother’s hands, That held the soap To scrub my baby toes; Whose hands were there To show me how To blot my runny nose. Those hands that later held my hands And patiently did teach me How to tie my shoes - Then held them once again To coax and guide my own To write my cursive name Until the time when I alone Could do the very same. My mother’s hands, That fed me, And tucked me in at night; Who touched my fevered brow And soothed away my fright. My mother’s hands, That all my life Gave comfort, care and hope. And when my children came to be, I watched my mother’s hands - a new grandmother’s hands - Touch my children, tenderly. My mother’s hands, Yes, weathered by their toil, The fingers wide, And aged with years – and just like her, Still sure and strong Yet gentle as they ever were. My mother’s hands – She looks, and says they’re ugly But I don’t know what to say. For when I see My mother’s hands It’s the beauty of The love they gave, Assuring strength And constant grace All held within My mother’s hands. Lin Cava©*
0
Nov 14, 2010
Nov 14, 2010 at 5:51 AM UTC
lin-cava
My Mother's Hands
*Such a lovely ring, she said. It even looks good on my ugly hands. As if those hands were lacking. As if those hands – hard working hands – Bore no beauty of their own. My mother’s hands, That held the soap To scrub my baby toes; Whose hands were there To show me how To blot my runny nose. Those hands that later held my hands And patiently did teach me How to tie my shoes - Then held them once again To coax and guide my own To write my cursive name Until the time when I alone Could do the very same. My mother’s hands, That fed me, And tucked me in at night; Who touched my fevered brow And soothed away my fright. My mother’s hands, That all my life Gave comfort, care and hope. And when my children came to be, I watched my mother’s hands - a new grandmother’s hands - Touch my children, tenderly. My mother’s hands, Yes, weathered by their toil, The fingers wide, And aged with years – and just like her, Still sure and strong Yet gentle as they ever were. My mother’s hands – She looks, and says they’re ugly But I don’t know what to say. For when I see My mother’s hands It’s the beauty of The love they gave, Assuring strength And constant grace All held within My mother’s hands. Lin Cava©*
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52
Metallic-, ionic-, covalent bonds. Persisting still proving, able to break. The forces assured, the pressures endured, the attraction unequal, results left uncured. Surely there exits an unbreakable bond, created by a wand from a paranormal pond. A connection not so rare, sharing DNA in our hair. A bond assuring trust, selflessness and care. Not even death, can break a bond that strong and this may seem unfair, science points to wrong but this is no illusion, my doubts are less than low I do not have to prove, what I already know. Its far beyond a feeling, description left unknown. This bond is right beside me, never am I alone. I do not need an idol, I do not need a god. Impossible to forge a key, it's not that type of lock. My brother is my hero, my brother is my rock.
0
Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 12:12 PM UTC
jacques-strydom
Bond, brother bond
Metallic-, ionic-, covalent bonds. Persisting still proving, able to break. The forces assured, the pressures endured, the attraction unequal, results left uncured. Surely there exits an unbreakable bond, created by a wand from a paranormal pond. A connection not so rare, sharing DNA in our hair. A bond assuring trust, selflessness and care. Not even death, can break a bond that strong and this may seem unfair, science points to wrong but this is no illusion, my doubts are less than low I do not have to prove, what I already know. Its far beyond a feeling, description left unknown. This bond is right beside me, never am I alone. I do not need an idol, I do not need a god. Impossible to forge a key, it's not that type of lock. My brother is my hero, my brother is my rock.
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17
I fell in love twice the first time. First pinching myself assuring the initial first. The initial first I realized how silent love was. Seeing all but hearing nothing. This was my first kiss. Coming into contact with a quiver my lips have never before felt. Falling in love twice. Certain that I am uncertain of nothing. Learning to speak a new language. Lips poked out. Exposed to foreign land. Overlooking my feet. My ship never before having sailed. Day turned to night. My heart stead fast. Crashing against the ripple of tides. The experience of something new, Tides pulled by the hull of rubber soles. Our arms like anchors. Our feet hesitant, losing all feeling of finding ground. Our tongue the cargo set to provide entry  into things no longer forbidden. Night reconstructs day. The initial first of two times I fell in love. Eyes closed. Our breath becoming more shallow, Passing through the canal of each others mouths. Overlooking the side of my nose against hers. An anchor dropped. Chain link after chain link, plunged deep Far from the shore of everything I knew. My shoes soaked. The pavement with every reason to worry. Forever fractured. This anchor falling faster and faster. Without worry of kink
0
Oct 22, 2018
Oct 22, 2018 at 7:44 PM UTC
kewayne-wadley
Twice
I fell in love twice the first time. First pinching myself assuring the initial first. The initial first I realized how silent love was. Seeing all but hearing nothing. This was my first kiss. Coming into contact with a quiver my lips have never before felt. Falling in love twice. Certain that I am uncertain of nothing. Learning to speak a new language. Lips poked out. Exposed to foreign land. Overlooking my feet. My ship never before having sailed. Day turned to night. My heart stead fast. Crashing against the ripple of tides. The experience of something new, Tides pulled by the hull of rubber soles. Our arms like anchors. Our feet hesitant, losing all feeling of finding ground. Our tongue the cargo set to provide entry  into things no longer forbidden. Night reconstructs day. The initial first of two times I fell in love. Eyes closed. Our breath becoming more shallow, Passing through the canal of each others mouths. Overlooking the side of my nose against hers. An anchor dropped. Chain link after chain link, plunged deep Far from the shore of everything I knew. My shoes soaked. The pavement with every reason to worry. Forever fractured. This anchor falling faster and faster. Without worry of kink
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37
Thump. Skip. Thump. Skip. Skip. Thump. Pain flows through my chest. Washing away the seconds and minutes. Time Stops. And the clock no longer ticks. One more moment. One last breath. Lungs shrivel. And blood freezes. I sense her Death. Awaiting, Assuring, Strong. Then the moment bursts. A hand grenade. A home-made bomb. Life flashes back And time ticks on.
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Aug 21, 2012
Aug 21, 2012 at 11:05 AM UTC
sabrina-3
Heartbeats
Thump. Skip. Thump. Skip. Skip. Thump. Pain flows through my chest. Washing away the seconds and minutes. Time Stops. And the clock no longer ticks. One more moment. One last breath. Lungs shrivel. And blood freezes. I sense her Death. Awaiting, Assuring, Strong. Then the moment bursts. A hand grenade. A home-made bomb. Life flashes back And time ticks on.
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22
At spawn of first light Darkness embarks into the recesses of hibernation And so begins the blinding incline, the inevitable blonde coiled wreaths frustration is on the rise forces a discharge so multiple and emanate, the skyward black shrinks back from panoptic reaches, into a delinquent weakened rumor When this daily task of ridding the black ends a victor The climb continues upward in a high sky setting Consequential over the mornings painstaking labors Wiping from his brow, in a waving motion To release mists over global hydration By welcoming this morning dew, the earth is one more day new and can take great relief in this rebirth Assuring all parched famine will gain resolve taking in their absolve
0
Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 12:15 PM UTC
JudLove
Spawn of First Light
At spawn of first light Darkness embarks into the recesses of hibernation And so begins the blinding incline, the inevitable blonde coiled wreaths frustration is on the rise forces a discharge so multiple and emanate, the skyward black shrinks back from panoptic reaches, into a delinquent weakened rumor When this daily task of ridding the black ends a victor The climb continues upward in a high sky setting Consequential over the mornings painstaking labors Wiping from his brow, in a waving motion To release mists over global hydration By welcoming this morning dew, the earth is one more day new and can take great relief in this rebirth Assuring all parched famine will gain resolve taking in their absolve
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19
Just as you are different to me, I cannot understand you. Every move you make Every thought, expression That passes across your eyes; They say eyes are the window into the soul But your eyes are expressionless Blank as a stone slate Cold as a stone slate How could you **** someone? Don't you feel guilty? The dark malice hidden away in those beautiful eyes Spur-of-the-moment thoughts, uncontrollable impulses. How did I fall for you? People still ask me, every day. Do you still love her? How do I answer that? All those memories we shared, Every photo taken, I still look back at them, sometimes. And feel the toxic rush of happiness Of fondness, of love. Love for a serial killer. While you comforted me, Gently held me, Assuring me, Everything was going to be alright, You tortured, tore apart others Who were different from me. You're a murderer, a criminal. You took a life, intentional Every move and calculated plan All executed like a falling guillotine. Unstoppable. Deadly. How did I fall for you? People still ask me. I still remember, the memories we shared. Every gentle word and loving touch, Filling me with toxic happiness. How did I fall for you? How do I answer that? The best answer, I think, Is that you were different.
0
Dec 7, 2020
Dec 7, 2020 at 9:38 PM UTC
photovoltaic
different
Just as you are different to me, I cannot understand you. Every move you make Every thought, expression That passes across your eyes; They say eyes are the window into the soul But your eyes are expressionless Blank as a stone slate Cold as a stone slate How could you **** someone? Don't you feel guilty? The dark malice hidden away in those beautiful eyes Spur-of-the-moment thoughts, uncontrollable impulses. How did I fall for you? People still ask me, every day. Do you still love her? How do I answer that? All those memories we shared, Every photo taken, I still look back at them, sometimes. And feel the toxic rush of happiness Of fondness, of love. Love for a serial killer. While you comforted me, Gently held me, Assuring me, Everything was going to be alright, You tortured, tore apart others Who were different from me. You're a murderer, a criminal. You took a life, intentional Every move and calculated plan All executed like a falling guillotine. Unstoppable. Deadly. How did I fall for you? People still ask me. I still remember, the memories we shared. Every gentle word and loving touch, Filling me with toxic happiness. How did I fall for you? How do I answer that? The best answer, I think, Is that you were different.
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43
As I scale the slope I note the melody of the wind With its sweeping symphonic shifts My nails grind against granite Before flaking and falling into the abyss Yet I persist Upward along the lone path Where the air recedes like tides And frost forms fellowship upon my eyes Before seeking to turn my sore limbs, frigid Icily assuring each ache is anchored in anxiety Which stems from the worn clothes of society Yet as I climb, the fabric is discarded Like old styles of yesteryear Now basking in all my naturalness I finally summit, my thoughts thankfully descend My heart lifts up its scepter and then my chin Beating with Brilliance it grins Furls up it sleeves and wordlessly begins The work of healing from within
0
Aug 4, 2018
Aug 4, 2018 at 8:28 PM UTC
Mavsage
Inner Mt. Everest
As I scale the slope I note the melody of the wind With its sweeping symphonic shifts My nails grind against granite Before flaking and falling into the abyss Yet I persist Upward along the lone path Where the air recedes like tides And frost forms fellowship upon my eyes Before seeking to turn my sore limbs, frigid Icily assuring each ache is anchored in anxiety Which stems from the worn clothes of society Yet as I climb, the fabric is discarded Like old styles of yesteryear Now basking in all my naturalness I finally summit, my thoughts thankfully descend My heart lifts up its scepter and then my chin Beating with Brilliance it grins Furls up it sleeves and wordlessly begins The work of healing from within
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20
I'm flying away from winter to feast with palms and bougainvillea egrets, pelicans, banyan trees assuring my enraptured ease I may be silent for awhile... may return with sunmelt style
0
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 10:29 PM UTC
kmae
Away from Winter
I'm flying away from winter to feast with palms and bougainvillea egrets, pelicans, banyan trees assuring my enraptured ease I may be silent for awhile... may return with sunmelt style
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6
resuming vogon poetry altering website logos pretending everyone cares playing "east hastings" asphyxiating well-nigh denouement depicting twitter status obfuscating coincident deletions translating from Sḵwx̱wú7mesh assuring Sḵwx̱wú7mesh exists painting skwiḵw's mother? decrying micropolitical maelstrom imbibing fireball fountain inundating lexical foofaraw crafting poetic wonders desiring other mediums remaining practically invisible ending internet-only depression drafting noetic blunders requesting astute clique blazing perilous trail aging ominous grisaille depicting kmart realism seeking darker groups increasing pre-weekend laughter appropriating communist symbols making lone chuckle offending worldwide communists colonizing hello poetry colonizing parallel universe relaxing e-migration policies пить чистую водку photographing abduction scene ¿losing consistent format? increasing bluebird insignia avoiding frivolous legalities striking astraphobic comments assuming near-universal automation lowering latent inhibition traversing oneiric plane laxwadding afebrile loodies wallscaping pitchsourced chthonicities closing one-star conveniences sharing alien-looking alphabet writing system downtimes
0
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 7:42 PM UTC
jonchius
201509-w1
resuming vogon poetry altering website logos pretending everyone cares playing "east hastings" asphyxiating well-nigh denouement depicting twitter status obfuscating coincident deletions translating from Sḵwx̱wú7mesh assuring Sḵwx̱wú7mesh exists painting skwiḵw's mother? decrying micropolitical maelstrom imbibing fireball fountain inundating lexical foofaraw crafting poetic wonders desiring other mediums remaining practically invisible ending internet-only depression drafting noetic blunders requesting astute clique blazing perilous trail aging ominous grisaille depicting kmart realism seeking darker groups increasing pre-weekend laughter appropriating communist symbols making lone chuckle offending worldwide communists colonizing hello poetry colonizing parallel universe relaxing e-migration policies пить чистую водку photographing abduction scene ¿losing consistent format? increasing bluebird insignia avoiding frivolous legalities striking astraphobic comments assuming near-universal automation lowering latent inhibition traversing oneiric plane laxwadding afebrile loodies wallscaping pitchsourced chthonicities closing one-star conveniences sharing alien-looking alphabet writing system downtimes
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44
He gives me a box of dead flowers From his garden, While assuring me he didn’t Pick them in Bloom. And Suggested as a first date Maybe I could teach him how To make popourri.
0
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 10:41 AM UTC
katrinawillrich
the smell of love brewing
He gives me a box of dead flowers From his garden, While assuring me he didn’t Pick them in Bloom. And Suggested as a first date Maybe I could teach him how To make popourri.
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8
We snap a shameless selfie And post at once online. Me and wifey smiling sweet Whilst we play or dine! Now some say it quite conceited To paste one's mugs so much. But we know its really just More modernly in touch. It took a bit to email, And then to switch to text - Now it's all on Facebook. Who knows what will be next? So easy on our selfies It's really not self toot It's more about assuring We still live and compute. (C) 2011 All rights reserved
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Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 3:01 AM UTC
charles-leonard
We Snap a Shameless Selfie
We snap a shameless selfie And post at once online. Me and wifey smiling sweet Whilst we play or dine! Now some say it quite conceited To paste one's mugs so much. But we know its really just More modernly in touch. It took a bit to email, And then to switch to text - Now it's all on Facebook. Who knows what will be next? So easy on our selfies It's really not self toot It's more about assuring We still live and compute. (C) 2011 All rights reserved
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17
Leave us in a bedroom a locked room both bound by a fleeting veneration but no tangible definition and windows will fog up with excess anxious laughter and phlegmmed throats til the glass transforms transparent to translucent so the outside world becomes an informed guess about which coloured shape is going                    where. The door handle will twist into the room’s home grown central nervous system backed by rising voices rising pulses assuring ourselves it is everybody outside who is trapped and not us because ‘cosy’ has scribbled over ‘cramped’ between the sheets of peeling wallpaper and bodies upon bodies upon bodies only excites. We will stay in bed cocooned around this single duvet and distracted into its folds because this is how we choose to spend free will. Don't murmur about the locked door and even when it opens for lack of air or food so we tentatively tread through into the open, or perhaps closed, I beg you to grab my wrist and pull me back and whisper tear yourself up decrease with me because this will always be the one place we’ll happily suffocate.
0
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 8:38 AM UTC
amy-m
House of Cult
Leave us in a bedroom a locked room both bound by a fleeting veneration but no tangible definition and windows will fog up with excess anxious laughter and phlegmmed throats til the glass transforms transparent to translucent so the outside world becomes an informed guess about which coloured shape is going                    where. The door handle will twist into the room’s home grown central nervous system backed by rising voices rising pulses assuring ourselves it is everybody outside who is trapped and not us because ‘cosy’ has scribbled over ‘cramped’ between the sheets of peeling wallpaper and bodies upon bodies upon bodies only excites. We will stay in bed cocooned around this single duvet and distracted into its folds because this is how we choose to spend free will. Don't murmur about the locked door and even when it opens for lack of air or food so we tentatively tread through into the open, or perhaps closed, I beg you to grab my wrist and pull me back and whisper tear yourself up decrease with me because this will always be the one place we’ll happily suffocate.
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39
*Surreal landscape Silky smooth winds Assuring caresses Enlightened bonds Glamorous display Enthralled spectator Nature’s sanctuary Alluring wilderness Untamed hearts Rolling over Nature’s carpet Enticing gazes Euphoric moments Pristine backdrop Unrestrained hearts Sweet surrender Intense meanings*
0
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 8:17 AM UTC
amitav
Surreal Landscape
*Surreal landscape Silky smooth winds Assuring caresses Enlightened bonds Glamorous display Enthralled spectator Nature’s sanctuary Alluring wilderness Untamed hearts Rolling over Nature’s carpet Enticing gazes Euphoric moments Pristine backdrop Unrestrained hearts Sweet surrender Intense meanings*
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17
it's only deep in the night when my mind wanders most that i ponder why another night of drinking alone is the status quo. it's when i wonder why the wheel that started spinning so long ago keeps spinning, in the same direction and general speed. deep in the night is when the doubts and regrets run rampant like rioters through the square, flipping cars amidst flaming tires. it's when the needs and the wants clash for supremacy, assuring the mutual destruction of each. loves lost carve their names into my neocortex. where dreams unrealized fill their time by playing ping-ping until they're ****** from the backburner to manic importance. deep in the night is when blood-shot eyes and blaring computer monitors have a staring contest. deep in it, thought becomes reaction and the beans spill accordingly. knee-deep and we're ravaging the calm into frenzy and burning the books of our beliefs and abandoning rationale in favor of the spectre of immediate gratification at any cost, at any loss. deep in the night where no light penetrates, things become somehow illuminated.
0
Jul 10, 2011
Jul 10, 2011 at 12:41 PM UTC
brett-berger
deep
it's only deep in the night when my mind wanders most that i ponder why another night of drinking alone is the status quo. it's when i wonder why the wheel that started spinning so long ago keeps spinning, in the same direction and general speed. deep in the night is when the doubts and regrets run rampant like rioters through the square, flipping cars amidst flaming tires. it's when the needs and the wants clash for supremacy, assuring the mutual destruction of each. loves lost carve their names into my neocortex. where dreams unrealized fill their time by playing ping-ping until they're ****** from the backburner to manic importance. deep in the night is when blood-shot eyes and blaring computer monitors have a staring contest. deep in it, thought becomes reaction and the beans spill accordingly. knee-deep and we're ravaging the calm into frenzy and burning the books of our beliefs and abandoning rationale in favor of the spectre of immediate gratification at any cost, at any loss. deep in the night where no light penetrates, things become somehow illuminated.
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1
I I greeted you, my inevitable day In this shaky firmness of my hands; Assuring me of my weakness; the languidity of my serene constitution. The sky smeared with fright,undeed, and look, hark to how the sun closed the night! This was but unpalatable dew, misty in its impatient greyness Avidity for genuine sorrow and late confessions The calm heart then wronged, and soon the war touched the light! II Beware of love, o silly hearts! Loving thoughts, are indeed averse to relenting; albeit they are always leading to smirks and destitution. Release thy grains from yon grievous chain! Spark thy wings, heave and bend! Wear thy glee, ere any of the gruesome tears remain! Shield thy mask with greater abhorrence! III O notions, fruit my doom and feed my sight! From womanly misery I yet ought to emerge and all its surly sleeves I ought to blight! IV O peace, fetch for me my untaught breath in vain Keep me steady, ditch me not in the rain! Tend me more, yet not my cheerful friend- in pleasures whom thrives, in virtues was whom foolish! Praising plaited hairs, swept amidst folded skirts. Gruesome lies they carry, the finest they conspire to marry; what a horrid, unalterable, evil concoction! Yet pureness is the only that deserves awe; virgins are a symbol of unrequited love, but tenderest affection! However lonesome, hither and thither I shall bear this pain Until my stern heart melted to love again.
0
Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 7:38 AM UTC
stephanie-cynthia
Unloved
I I greeted you, my inevitable day In this shaky firmness of my hands; Assuring me of my weakness; the languidity of my serene constitution. The sky smeared with fright,undeed, and look, hark to how the sun closed the night! This was but unpalatable dew, misty in its impatient greyness Avidity for genuine sorrow and late confessions The calm heart then wronged, and soon the war touched the light! II Beware of love, o silly hearts! Loving thoughts, are indeed averse to relenting; albeit they are always leading to smirks and destitution. Release thy grains from yon grievous chain! Spark thy wings, heave and bend! Wear thy glee, ere any of the gruesome tears remain! Shield thy mask with greater abhorrence! III O notions, fruit my doom and feed my sight! From womanly misery I yet ought to emerge and all its surly sleeves I ought to blight! IV O peace, fetch for me my untaught breath in vain Keep me steady, ditch me not in the rain! Tend me more, yet not my cheerful friend- in pleasures whom thrives, in virtues was whom foolish! Praising plaited hairs, swept amidst folded skirts. Gruesome lies they carry, the finest they conspire to marry; what a horrid, unalterable, evil concoction! Yet pureness is the only that deserves awe; virgins are a symbol of unrequited love, but tenderest affection! However lonesome, hither and thither I shall bear this pain Until my stern heart melted to love again.
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32
Stuck In the soft mud, exasperated Expecting escape but never fighting From the forest came chaos, But I don't venture there For fear of Self-discovery: Some secret stolen from me -- Or was it given? Loneliness: The danger that I'm convinced Is real. Losing myself: They'd never find me, But could I? So here I remain, In the dull, comfortable mud Assuring myself that I am Stuck.
0
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 11:48 PM UTC
olivia-frederick
Stuck
Stuck In the soft mud, exasperated Expecting escape but never fighting From the forest came chaos, But I don't venture there For fear of Self-discovery: Some secret stolen from me -- Or was it given? Loneliness: The danger that I'm convinced Is real. Losing myself: They'd never find me, But could I? So here I remain, In the dull, comfortable mud Assuring myself that I am Stuck.
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19
I cannot recall the precise moment  of my arrival at Anhedonia memories blindsided by a phantasmagoric comorbid collage of cant precipitated by some newspaper reportage or holocaust story some creepy instance that breached the precipice between simple sorrow and permanent melancholia some fatal blow that cinched the deal some horrid event that could not heal some dejected disappointment that could not be resolved some moment of unguarded clarity when integrity dissolved nevertheless I have arrived at this mangled juncture élan a mania not even Edison's medicine can extirpate I was quite lighthearted before the inferno before my brain broke ennui now a   turgid companion feeding on gaiety, never sated, seeking famine esurient unrelenting usurper of  happiness go away, leave me alone, relish some other  soul's  madness gone is any exuberance, glee or mirth miseries are mine, many the days since birth better I was carried  from the womb straight to the grave a fatuous existence, clamoring and grasping in vain it's as if I was born into a well but these waters they burn the bludgeoning alcohol a liquid hell Oh florid loquacity, you are an impostor your verse is an adversary a foray of jagged rhythm justifying a storm a sordid verbosity  assuring no norm a plaintive scratching guild of recriminative collaboration some alliance of fulminating disquietude the cost for the fare on the adventure to: the stunning moment  you too will visit Anhedonia
0
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 9:39 PM UTC
sobroquet
Destination Anhedonia
I cannot recall the precise moment  of my arrival at Anhedonia memories blindsided by a phantasmagoric comorbid collage of cant precipitated by some newspaper reportage or holocaust story some creepy instance that breached the precipice between simple sorrow and permanent melancholia some fatal blow that cinched the deal some horrid event that could not heal some dejected disappointment that could not be resolved some moment of unguarded clarity when integrity dissolved nevertheless I have arrived at this mangled juncture élan a mania not even Edison's medicine can extirpate I was quite lighthearted before the inferno before my brain broke ennui now a   turgid companion feeding on gaiety, never sated, seeking famine esurient unrelenting usurper of  happiness go away, leave me alone, relish some other  soul's  madness gone is any exuberance, glee or mirth miseries are mine, many the days since birth better I was carried  from the womb straight to the grave a fatuous existence, clamoring and grasping in vain it's as if I was born into a well but these waters they burn the bludgeoning alcohol a liquid hell Oh florid loquacity, you are an impostor your verse is an adversary a foray of jagged rhythm justifying a storm a sordid verbosity  assuring no norm a plaintive scratching guild of recriminative collaboration some alliance of fulminating disquietude the cost for the fare on the adventure to: the stunning moment  you too will visit Anhedonia
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31
If you were really my best friend, you'd know that all I needed was for you to be there for me. I didn't need to know the truth. I already knew I had ******* up. I just needed you to assure me that everything would be okay. But instead, you were there for him, acting like what I went through wasn't hard, telling me how much I messed up, assuring me that everything that happened was my fault. True friends don't do that. Ex-friends do.
0
Jul 7, 2023
Jul 7, 2023 at 2:24 AM UTC
poemsbyky
My Ex-friend
If you were really my best friend, you'd know that all I needed was for you to be there for me. I didn't need to know the truth. I already knew I had ******* up. I just needed you to assure me that everything would be okay. But instead, you were there for him, acting like what I went through wasn't hard, telling me how much I messed up, assuring me that everything that happened was my fault. True friends don't do that. Ex-friends do.
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14
They trace down your cheeks... during the loneliest of nights. They gather between your collar bones... through your battles and fights. They brim in your eyes... assuring you the glimmer of hope. They drip off your chin... like a thread of droplets to help you cope. They wet your shivering smile... reminding you of your strength and humility. They fall on your palms... appreciating your sacrifices and sincerity. They seep into your skin... to fuel the undying love in your heart. They feed your soul with gratitude until the time comes when you shall depart.
0
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 12:17 PM UTC
eudora
Selfless tears
They trace down your cheeks... during the loneliest of nights. They gather between your collar bones... through your battles and fights. They brim in your eyes... assuring you the glimmer of hope. They drip off your chin... like a thread of droplets to help you cope. They wet your shivering smile... reminding you of your strength and humility. They fall on your palms... appreciating your sacrifices and sincerity. They seep into your skin... to fuel the undying love in your heart. They feed your soul with gratitude until the time comes when you shall depart.
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16
While tufts of gloom engulfing the sky, With no space and time between Us, you and I, soak ourselves in the stationary delight. Like a hypersensitive scheme, Yet an irreconcilable vibe, You smoke, and I sigh. While others argue to be or not to be, You and I, standing in front of Robert Frost’s fork —to smoke or sigh Without hesitation, You choose to hold a cigar in hand, I choose to release an unknown in mind, And sigh. We then, ask each other why You say, if you ever woke up in evisceration, You would quit smoking I say, if I ever woke up in nonentity, I would stop sighing Basking in the glow of flickers, Inhaling the essence of meteoric laughters, We look into each other’s assuring eyes —I respect your choice, as much as you respect mine. Palpably, we’ve educed a compromise It’s neither you smoke, nor I sigh.
0
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 5:11 AM UTC
wanyun-gu
To smoke, to sigh
While tufts of gloom engulfing the sky, With no space and time between Us, you and I, soak ourselves in the stationary delight. Like a hypersensitive scheme, Yet an irreconcilable vibe, You smoke, and I sigh. While others argue to be or not to be, You and I, standing in front of Robert Frost’s fork —to smoke or sigh Without hesitation, You choose to hold a cigar in hand, I choose to release an unknown in mind, And sigh. We then, ask each other why You say, if you ever woke up in evisceration, You would quit smoking I say, if I ever woke up in nonentity, I would stop sighing Basking in the glow of flickers, Inhaling the essence of meteoric laughters, We look into each other’s assuring eyes —I respect your choice, as much as you respect mine. Palpably, we’ve educed a compromise It’s neither you smoke, nor I sigh.
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26
He’s no God like Sachin, neither is ‘Wall’ his sobriquet He doesn’t whack them a mile like Sehwag or Ganguly. He just comes in with a resolve and soaks in the pressure Where others would succumb to panic, he thrives beautifully. When the team is sinking, his steely nerves bring them to shore He kisses the tension in the air away with his assuring presence. When the gods turn away, VVS emerges – serene and tough And clears up the mess with divine grace and elegance! When his bat swivels below his magical wrists, its pure bliss! The cherry caresses the grass and dances towards the fence. Like a stroke of an artist’s brush that just painted a perfect arc. And with his own people, the enemy’s admiration you can sense. He doesn’t evoke fear, excitement, anxiety or frustration He doesn’t pump his fists in the air, doesn’t snarl or stare. You either see the calmness or a bright smile on his face. He’s a stern fighter with no arrogance – a quality so rare! They say he’s ‘Very, Very Special’, which he indeed is. In the country of demigods he’s a man that makes god proud. He’s not worshipped by sponsors, doesn’t earn big bucks, But he owns a bigger treasure – Respect from all in the crowd. The Aussies ***** feared the world over, swear by his name, For, he crushes their strong might with his class and sublimity. Their killer-instinct turns into shivers when they see him walk out Their razor-sharp words get blunted by his poise and humility. VVS epitomizes romance. No wonder he loves the Eden Gardens! Where the ‘Lord’s’ of Indian Cricket reside, is his fortress. When he bats, you just surrender your senses to his splendour, The twirl of his hypnotic wrists can bust your biggest stress. The world seems a better place when you watch VVS on song. Even time stops to admire his delicate flick that goes fine. And as you lose yourself in his determined yet soft eyes, You find yourself sitting in heaven, enjoying a glass of wine! Selflessness is his middle name; there is no 'I' in the word 'Team,' The hardest job that no one wants, he will do for his team. I’m blessed to have experienced the beauty of VVS… The skill of his splendid batting and the purity of his beam!!!
0
Oct 9, 2010
Oct 9, 2010 at 6:53 AM UTC
shirin-sadikot
Celebrating the beauty of VVS!
He’s no God like Sachin, neither is ‘Wall’ his sobriquet He doesn’t whack them a mile like Sehwag or Ganguly. He just comes in with a resolve and soaks in the pressure Where others would succumb to panic, he thrives beautifully. When the team is sinking, his steely nerves bring them to shore He kisses the tension in the air away with his assuring presence. When the gods turn away, VVS emerges – serene and tough And clears up the mess with divine grace and elegance! When his bat swivels below his magical wrists, its pure bliss! The cherry caresses the grass and dances towards the fence. Like a stroke of an artist’s brush that just painted a perfect arc. And with his own people, the enemy’s admiration you can sense. He doesn’t evoke fear, excitement, anxiety or frustration He doesn’t pump his fists in the air, doesn’t snarl or stare. You either see the calmness or a bright smile on his face. He’s a stern fighter with no arrogance – a quality so rare! They say he’s ‘Very, Very Special’, which he indeed is. In the country of demigods he’s a man that makes god proud. He’s not worshipped by sponsors, doesn’t earn big bucks, But he owns a bigger treasure – Respect from all in the crowd. The Aussies ***** feared the world over, swear by his name, For, he crushes their strong might with his class and sublimity. Their killer-instinct turns into shivers when they see him walk out Their razor-sharp words get blunted by his poise and humility. VVS epitomizes romance. No wonder he loves the Eden Gardens! Where the ‘Lord’s’ of Indian Cricket reside, is his fortress. When he bats, you just surrender your senses to his splendour, The twirl of his hypnotic wrists can bust your biggest stress. The world seems a better place when you watch VVS on song. Even time stops to admire his delicate flick that goes fine. And as you lose yourself in his determined yet soft eyes, You find yourself sitting in heaven, enjoying a glass of wine! Selflessness is his middle name; there is no 'I' in the word 'Team,' The hardest job that no one wants, he will do for his team. I’m blessed to have experienced the beauty of VVS… The skill of his splendid batting and the purity of his beam!!!
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36
Lady, lady, should you meet One whose ways are all discreet, One who murmurs that his wife Is the lodestar of his life, One who keeps assuring you That he never was untrue, Never loved another one . . . Lady, lady, better run!
0
2.3k
Dorothy Parker
Social Note
Lady, lady, should you meet One whose ways are all discreet, One who murmurs that his wife Is the lodestar of his life, One who keeps assuring you That he never was untrue, Never loved another one . . . Lady, lady, better run!
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8
It lasted only few days. Almost non existent and unnoticed, considering the long life span of a modern human being. But it has left me with an ache in my heart, a constant tug, **** and awakening of my extreme "singleness". Maybe it was the smile, the deceitful truth in the eyes; Definitely the caring, re-assuring voice and the gentle touch. The fun filled atmosphere and the care free life style, surrounded by youth, sun, energy, laughter and delight. And that was you... But on the other hand was an actual person with an actual heart; With genuine emotions and a hope for a new start. Willing to give, to trust and to let loose. Fabulously charmed, ecstatic, oblivious and so very true. And that was me... There was you, there was me and apparently a "her". Later I knew but I just wanted you, to love and to hurt. There's nothing left but the memories, the disappointment and the pain. The summer affair has turned into a cold, dark and lonely Winter's night, and keeps haunting me again and again. And that is us...
0
Feb 28, 2011
Feb 28, 2011 at 5:27 AM UTC
harsh
Summer Affair...
It lasted only few days. Almost non existent and unnoticed, considering the long life span of a modern human being. But it has left me with an ache in my heart, a constant tug, **** and awakening of my extreme "singleness". Maybe it was the smile, the deceitful truth in the eyes; Definitely the caring, re-assuring voice and the gentle touch. The fun filled atmosphere and the care free life style, surrounded by youth, sun, energy, laughter and delight. And that was you... But on the other hand was an actual person with an actual heart; With genuine emotions and a hope for a new start. Willing to give, to trust and to let loose. Fabulously charmed, ecstatic, oblivious and so very true. And that was me... There was you, there was me and apparently a "her". Later I knew but I just wanted you, to love and to hurt. There's nothing left but the memories, the disappointment and the pain. The summer affair has turned into a cold, dark and lonely Winter's night, and keeps haunting me again and again. And that is us...
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21
Distraught the family gathered in a tight unit not knowing what to do! Their daughter was hooked on hard drugs through her liaison with a man. Realizing there was very little they could do what next they hadn't a clue! No matter how hard they'd tried to support she'd ignored their advice. Embroiled in a life of drugs and the dealers she was a confirmed addict! A situation they'd never faced ever before the future was unsure! Moving away to a big city from her home town contact had become zero! With such terrible reports of teenage abuse anxiety began to magnify! Hard to accept their child on the at risk register knowing they could lose her! Harsh facts for them to take in the whole truth in the end it was her choice! After the heartache only their child could decide being at her own cross road. Whether she had any chance of growing old or her life to drugs sold! Split from her drug dealing boyfriend yet again home she had one more chance. Off the drugs assuring her weary mum and dad all they could do was give love. Deep down understanding this was one last try or she most surely would Die! Only their daughter could choose the path! The Foureyed Poet.
0
Jan 6, 2012
Jan 6, 2012 at 6:36 PM UTC
malcolm-terence-gould
Hooked!
Distraught the family gathered in a tight unit not knowing what to do! Their daughter was hooked on hard drugs through her liaison with a man. Realizing there was very little they could do what next they hadn't a clue! No matter how hard they'd tried to support she'd ignored their advice. Embroiled in a life of drugs and the dealers she was a confirmed addict! A situation they'd never faced ever before the future was unsure! Moving away to a big city from her home town contact had become zero! With such terrible reports of teenage abuse anxiety began to magnify! Hard to accept their child on the at risk register knowing they could lose her! Harsh facts for them to take in the whole truth in the end it was her choice! After the heartache only their child could decide being at her own cross road. Whether she had any chance of growing old or her life to drugs sold! Split from her drug dealing boyfriend yet again home she had one more chance. Off the drugs assuring her weary mum and dad all they could do was give love. Deep down understanding this was one last try or she most surely would Die! Only their daughter could choose the path! The Foureyed Poet.
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32