"bearly" poems
she sat on the beige satin couch
looking down at her feet
which were designed with intricate patterns made of mehndi
her nails painted a light pink
a color much like the subtle blush on her cheeks
she was fair, but not pale,
she had a shine to her, a glow
her face was hidden for the most
with a white lace dupatta
like the midnight moon hidden behind translucent clouds
most of her hair was tucked neatly away
except the loose strand which rested on her forehead
a curl, the color of sweetened caramel
soft, delicate; and ever so sweet
she brushed it back with her small hands
but it bounced right back, falling on her face
she looked up, slightly titling her head towards the light
the way sunlight hit her eyes made you want to never look away
oh, her eyes
lined with kajal, they stood out
the kind of eyes you could find yourself getting lost in
hazel and green- with specks of yellow and blue
there was a universe within those eyes
like the rainforest after a summer sprinkle
lush, pure, mesmerizing
but they were quickly hidden once more
as she delicately pulled the dupatta closer to her face
and smoothed down the crease in her silk kameez
her movements were entrancing
you could not look away
the more you looked, the more you craved to catch one more glance
gentle, soft, kind
never in a rush
you couldn't help but imagine what it felt like to feel her touch
the only words we heard her speak
was right when the sun began to set
and the orange-red rays reflected in the pearls around her neck, the only jewelry she wore, yet enough to adorn her
her puckered mouth opened softly
and she was bearly audible as she spoke
her voice like honey: sweet & melodious
if she never stopped speaking, you'd never stop listening
she spoke with a tender sort of confidence & surety
"qabool hai, qabool hai, qabool hai"
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 8:50 AM UTC
Fluffy *****
No stress, no care
Cutie-patootie
Koala Bear
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 12:18 PM UTC
So this the story of
My childhood lane
I remember it clear
Nothing but pain
" You're so fat"
I was always told
I was living misery
Just nine years old
I starved myself
I got underweight
Got used to it all
For I never ate
Everyone noticed
Thought I was fine
I was really sick
And bearly nine
No one ever helped
No one ever knew
All the starvation
And lies I could do
They all assumed
I was naturally thin
Little did they know
What I have been
Continuously ill
To this very day
I can't recover
I'm not okay
Aug 24, 2015
Aug 24, 2015 at 4:30 AM UTC
-
She said she had a lot of baggage
Running from things she's been avoiding
Since a young age
I told her we were in the same boat
I'm also trying to stay afloat
-
Few days later I was her favourite
Late night calls and early texts
Those park dates were best
Surrounded by a crowd but it feel like
It was just the two of us
We would bearly notice the rest
-
I said with you I don't feel alone
And that my feelings for came like a cyclone
Maybe I came in too strong
But I felt weak after she said
I feel like that too
But we should keep it in the friendzone
-
Lowkie ®
Nov 19, 2020
Nov 19, 2020 at 12:04 AM UTC
Wings beat to overtake.
Now, above you like a fire shot
In a silent film the rush begins.
Wings fold inward, the air turrents,
Streams, as a ball swirling in a tube,
Grey bullet in the barrel,
The slide to the **** and the talons,
Make their mark before the hitch.
Soft plosives bearly sounding,
Crake, blood cupped in the claws,
From the breast and the rose
Heart, now in a tail spin,
Nostrils whine in the fall.
No jury just but a sup of the faded
Heart by one raging one.
The wilted wings are stirring
To the last as the pointed
Wingman ferries, the wholly bred,
Quarry of perfection, jolts
And jilts, and His scythe of feathers
Holds sway in the whirl.
As the God-made creature
From high heaven flies
The mourning dove must die.
Jul 3, 2012
Jul 3, 2012 at 12:13 PM UTC
Wings beat to overtake.
Now, above you like a fire shot
In a silent film the rush begins.
Wings fold inward, the air turrents,
Streams, as a ball swirling in a tube,
Grey bullet in the barrel,
The slide to the **** and the talons,
Make their mark before the hitch.
Soft plosives bearly sounding,
Crake, blood cupped in the claws,
From the breast and the rose
Heart, now in a tail spin,
Nostrils whine in the fall.
No jury just but a sup of the faded
Heart by one raging one.
The wilted wings are stirring
To the last as the pointed
Wingman ferries, the wholly bred,
Quarry of perfection, jolts
And jilts, and His scythe of feathers
Holds sway in the whirl.
As the God-made creature
From high heaven flies
The mourning dove must die.
Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 12:38 PM UTC
Wings beat to overtake.
Now, above you like a fire shot
In a silent film the rush begins.
Wings fold inward, the air turrents,
Streams, as a ball swirling in a tube,
Grey bullet in the barrel,
The slide to the **** and the talons,
Make their mark before the hitch.
Soft plosives bearly sounding,
Crake, blood cupped in the claws,
From the breast and the rose
Heart, now in a tail spin,
Nostrils whine in the fall.
No jury just but a sup of the faded
Heart by one raging one.
The wilted wings are stirring
To the last as the pointed
Wingman ferries, the wholly bred,
Quarry of perfection, jolts
And jilts, and His scythe of feathers
Holds sway in the whirl.
As the God-made creature
From high heaven flies
The mourning dove must die.
Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 1:20 PM UTC
Wings beat to overtake.
Now, above you like a fire shot
In a silent film the rush begins.
Wings fold inward, the air turrents,
Streams, as a ball swirling in a tube,
Grey bullet in the barrel,
The slide to the **** and the talons,
Make their mark before the hitch.
Soft plosives bearly sounding,
Crake, blood cupped in the claws,
From the breast and the rose
Heart, now in a tail spin,
Nostrils whine in the fall.
No jury just but a sup of the faded
Heart by one raging one.
The wilted wings are stirring
To the last as the pointed
Wingman ferries, the wholly bred,
Quarry of perfection, jolts
And jilts, and His scythe of feathers
Holds sway in the whirl.
As the God-made creature
From high heaven flies
The mourning dove must die.
Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 2:47 PM UTC
It hurts me to know that you dont desire me anymore
That you do anything to dodge my love
Like when i hug you and you roll your eyes
Or when i ask for a kiss, you bearly even put your lips against mine
I hate this and it hurts me inside
You think i dont notice this because i try to act like nothing is going on
But i do, i could feel that cold kiss you give me
Not meaning nothing at all
It feels like a peer pressure empty kiss upon mine
When i hug you and i ask you to hug me back
I know that hug is force and i feel emptiness all around
Where did all this feelings you had towards me go?
Where did all the love you had for me go to?
I sometimes think either you got tired of me
Or maybe you got a side chick
I try my best to bring our back love
But sometimes i think why am i the only one?
Love only grows between two not one
All i ask is if you dont want me
To please let me know
Jul 21, 2016
Jul 21, 2016 at 6:26 PM UTC
We collide in this
world we're living.
Time stops as we see each other.
Everything moves in slow motion.
Your eyes hide an emotion.
My heart overflows.
My brains lose all signals.
My hands are trembling.
My heartbeat is racing.
My voice is shaky.
Knees are feeling weak.
I can bearly speak.
This is what you
do to me.
It should be illegal.
How you take control
over all my senses.
The passion I feel within.
Your are my majestic wings.
I will never forget.
My beautiful sin.
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 9:20 AM UTC
Wings beat to overtake.
Now, above you like a fire shot
In a silent film the rush begins.
Wings fold inward, the air turrents,
Streams, as a ball swirling in a tube,
Grey bullet in the barrel,
The slide to the **** and the talons,
Make their mark before the hitch.
Soft plosives bearly sounding,
Crake, blood cupped in the claws,
From the breast and the rose
Heart, now in a tail spin,
Nostrils whine in the fall.
No jury just but a sup of the faded
Heart by one raging one.
The wilted wings are stirring
To the last as the pointed
Wingman ferries, the wholly bred,
Quarry of perfection, jolts
And jilts, and His scythe of feathers
Holds sway in the whirl.
As the God-made creature
From high heaven flies
The mourning dove must die.
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 9:08 PM UTC
some people think about their poetry
I know many do,
to make sure the the 3rd and 4th rhyme
to make sure all there lines sing in time
But I have no time for that
Im thousands of years old but bearly 17
so ill blurt
and ill slur
and ill cringe
and ill howl
and ill snip
and ill snap
and splurt
and curse,
I'll walk my fingers to the key board and take of their leashes,
let them run wild in the dog park of my sanity
my ramblings,
they don't need any s
t
r
u
c
t
u
r
e, nor do my sentences need to make sense
why would I conform To YOUR insanity
when I have my own band brewing like a bathtub bomb
Nothing I say needs to work as hard as my hands do
nothing I need to do should feel as heavy as the souls i carry in my
broken-strapped-bad-backed-back-pack
my alliteration literally doesn't need to alliterate its meaning
and I'm so Tired of Ideas being steam pressed into my head by the maid
that runs this mad house
you'll need to use your hands to eat this poem , I've turned the cutlery
into toy soldiers and their currently occupied in overseas service
so dig into my mind
ill open the front door for you just please remember before you
scoop out my brain
w
a
s
h
y
o
u
r
h
a
n
d
s
LG
Mar 23, 2015
Mar 23, 2015 at 4:30 PM UTC
Grizzled-brown sound of tuba walking,
In the way of circles you wobble step, inverse,
As does a broken waltz, bearly graceful.
You sniff your way a crush alpine meadows
And making sense for you are lowly berries,
Rude as any intruder might be in the foothills
Of the Gods. 'More wine for the great Polyphemus,'
Say the drunk brambles, brighty doomed sailors
All a wash by behemothing jaws which hang
Them over. Yet Ursa, if in minor you must play
By the cosmos' stilted view, great major, it is they
Who glare more distant, as if you really cared.
Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 5:00 PM UTC
Wings beat to overtake.
Now, above you like a fire shot
In a silent film the rush begins.
Wings fold inward, the air turrents,
Streams, as a ball swirling in a tube,
Grey bullet in the barrel,
The slide to the **** and the talons,
Make their mark before the hitch.
Soft plosives bearly sounding,
Crake, blood cupped in the claws,
From the breast and the rose
Heart, now in a tail spin,
Nostrils whine in the fall.
No jury just but a sup of the faded
Heart by one raging one.
The wilted wings are stirring
To the last as the pointed
Wingman ferries, the wholly bred,
Quarry of perfection, jolts
And jilts, and His scythe of feathers
Holds sway in the whirl.
As the God-made creature
From high heaven flies
The mourning dove must die.
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 12:10 PM UTC
I walked ten thousand miles
In the many years
I've joined hands with my insanity
Walked hand in hand
Like shadows and feet
Grasping a new perspective on the instance
That reality is just a fictional world
We lose ourselves in
Where is the real you?
Is that truly you in the mirror
Or the reflection of the world
Taken it's tole on your weary bones
Fragile shapes bearly holding a grin
I've walked so many beaten paths
Beaten so many paths
Bean beaten by paths
Yet still find myself walking
Down the only path
Covered by thorns and barbed wire
One way in no way out
It's the path we all walk unknowingly
The path of our own troublesome sanity
Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 2:10 PM UTC
You know what?
I love you.
I was just stupid and scared.
I didn't want my heart to be shattered.
I didn't want to feel the pain.
I should have listened when you said you were mine.
When you thought I wasn't serious,
we went our separate ways.
I heard you got someone new.
My heart fell, how could you move on so fast?
I could bearly think straight.
But I learnt to accept your choice of moving on.
I rid myself of you.
But you.
You crawled your gracely self back into my life and asked why I removed you.
I lied and said I pressed the button by accident.
If only you knew that looking at you just hurts.
Days go by and I still keep track of your little stories, here and there.
After her,
Still none new?
I like to think that you are waiting for me
but I know it isn't true.
A girl can dream right?
There will always be a place in my heart that belongs to you.
I would take you back without a moment of hesitation and treat you right cause I was fool in other people's games and demise.
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 7:22 AM UTC
You see there is this girl
she is tall
pretty
stylish
nice
caring
talented
kind
smart
amazing
She's perfect,
well for me.
You see,
we bearly talk,
rarely see eachother
but i'm in love
with this girl..
This amazing girl.
Apr 1, 2019
Apr 1, 2019 at 7:06 PM UTC
Grizzled-brown sound of tuba walking,
In the way of circles you wobble step, inverse,
As does a broken waltz, bearly graceful.
You sniff your way a crush alpine meadows
And making sense for you are lowly berries,
Rude as any intruder might be in the foothills
Of the Gods. 'More wine for the great Polyphemus,'
Say the drunk brambles, brighty doomed sailors
All a wash by behemothing jaws which hang
Them over. Yet Ursa, if in minor you must play
By the cosmos' stilted view, great major, it is they
Who glare more distant, as if you really cared.
Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 2:45 PM UTC
Grizzled-brown sound of tuba walking,
In the way of circles you wobble step, inverse,
As does a broken waltz, bearly graceful.
You sniff your way a crush alpine meadows
And making sense for you are lowly berries,
Rude as any intruder might be in the foothills
Of the Gods. 'More wine for the great Polyphemus,'
Say the drunk brambles, brighty doomed sailors
All a wash by behemothing jaws which hang
Them over. Yet Ursa, if in minor you must play
By the cosmos' stilted view, great major, it is they
Who glare more distant, as if you really cared.
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 6:30 PM UTC
Wings beat to overtake.
Now, above you like a fire shot
In a silent film the rush begins.
Wings fold inward, the air turrents,
Streams, as a ball swirling in a tube,
Grey bullet in the barrel,
The slide to the **** and the talons,
Make their mark before the hitch.
Soft plosives bearly sounding,
Crake, blood cupped in the claws,
From the breast and the rose
Heart, now in a tail spin,
Nostrils whine in the fall.
No jury just but a sup of the faded
Heart by one raging one.
The wilted wings are stirring
To the last as the pointed
Wingman ferries, the wholly bred,
Quarry of perfection, jolts
And jilts, and His scythe of feathers
Holds sway in the whirl.
As the God-made creature
From high heaven flies
The mourning dove must die.
Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 2:42 PM UTC
She bearly made it Through the day
Now in the car and on her way
Trying to hold back the tears till she's at home
But as she starts to drive and think the tears start to roam
Hard to drive vision blurry
Press on the gas pedal, in a hurry
She just wants to be locked into her room
She feels the end is coming soon
When he meet her he knew she was scarred and broken
But love, hope, and dreams where spoken
She started to belive again
To her it was more precious than a lottery win
They talked and Skyped
Way into every night
She started to look forward to the day
It had been years and years since she had felt that way
She wore a happy face instead of a frown
Because love had FINALLY been found
Four months latter on her way home he sent to text
She was driving she couldn't check
The third he sent said I know you seen them won't be played like that
She read that and it took her aback
Just like that he deleted her out of his life
Just like that she was in worse agony and strife
The cruelest thing he could ever do
To give love to the unloved, hope to the hopeless, dreams to the one that had given up on them, then call it through
With no rhyme or reason, no closer
One minute in heaven, then **** it was over
Now she roboticly gets through the day
So she can go home and lock herself away
In her room she hugs her pillow, and drenches it in tears
She cries into it so no one hears
Just how her heart has been crushed to dust
For she had given him more than just trust
She had laid herself bear to him, had even dared to dream of a happy future
But now her arms and legs need sutures
Because she tried to let the pain out
It didn't work not even when she tried to shout
For she had seen the light
It had been so bright
It had felt so right
Now the darkness is darker than ever
They will never be togeather
The deepest agony is she don't know why
For years you will only see her cry
Locked in her room, away from it all
Only the razor to her now calls
Apr 3, 2016
Apr 3, 2016 at 12:34 PM UTC
After all the effort I kept
I tried so hard to let her know,
let her understand how I feel
And she was kind, yet showing interest
She made me fall deep, deeper, deep, deeper
When all she really wanted is friendship
Yet she kept it a secret
I'm sure she was unaware this could hurt me in future
Not until when I left her with no choice but to utter something
If I knew I wouldn't have pushed,
but I was convinced we are walking the very same paths
Surely her answer caused me nothing but trauma
And I realised she can't even consider my feelings
How can I stand beside her?
Will I ever hug friendly greetings?
will I ever shake hands without intending to kiss goodbye?
This gonna be hard to just ignore and adapt to friendship
How can I be friends with a girl I bearly love?
Love sometimes is so stupid and selfish
How can it be such a lier?
Sometimes I wish love can just be saying I love you,
but it is more than that.
The moment I set my eyes on her and she stare back
The first time we conversed
I was so convinced she's in love too
I was convinced the only thing left is nothing but consensus
But then it turned out with disapointment
"I'm not ready for love friendship of course is great to meditate" (she said)
Just for console, when I realise I'm stuck in these feelings
I pitched, you can take all the time you need to be true with yourself,
simply like I'm fine by it when I really am touched.
Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 11:14 AM UTC
my designs for you don't match your own
A telling tale of how far we've grown.
My lovely lines
all tangled and torn
yours won't bend or dip in time
too irregular for mine
Please don't design yourself around me any more
I confess; my heart lines are all messed!
I can bearly breathe I'm so tense
you don't take the care to give the freedom I do
my arches lay bare for you to go through
But You
reach right in and tie me in knots
its not the first time you forgot.
please don't draw your designs on me
they tangle me up so
don't choke me, please no,
I don't want to go.
Reaching for you has become a chore
more tangles and crossed lines than before
time to draw the line in the proverbial sand
Though you and I will still hold hands
please dont tangle me up any more
I promise not to too either I assure,
let's just draw our designs on either side
holding hands following the same line
and let the windy trails twist them up
as we leave them to mingle and twine.
I'll stay yours and you'll stay mine
and weave our way into a grand new design!
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 6:08 AM UTC
Wings beat to overtake.
Now, above you like a fire shot
In a silent film the rush begins.
Wings fold inward, the air turrents,
Streams, as a ball swirling in a tube,
Grey bullet in the barrel,
The slide to the **** and the talons,
Make their mark before the hitch.
Soft plosives bearly sounding,
Crake, blood cupped in the claws,
From the breast and the rose
Heart, now in a tail spin,
Nostrils whine in the fall.
No jury just but a sup of the faded
Heart by one raging one.
The wilted wings are stirring
To the last as the pointed
Wingman ferries, the wholly bred,
Quarry of perfection, jolts
And jilts, and His scythe of feathers
Holds sway in the whirl.
As the God-made creature
From high heaven flies
The mourning dove must die.
Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 12:13 PM UTC