"beautify" poems
Resistance is a **** stunting the possibilities of us, our nature,
and the sun that resides in us all.
When we let go
we always move forwards.
And when we hurt we grow,
we heighten,
to a place that isn't initially seen,
as holding on doesn't want to recognise
you're no longer there.
The illusion of resistance crumbles
when we empty our hands,
when our hearts tell our minds
Just let go,
here we regain the power of trust,
of faith,
and the wild playground of our lives
prove joyful again.
To extend out with all we have
knowing this reach has reversed equally.
Dropping the weight like a stone
surrendering in the sea of life,
expanding further still as we sink,
knowing that holding on to that
which resists so much
is not ours to be held,
we are not to remain stunted
in a state of tug of war.
life around us says so,
we are to learn and beautify
as we rise,
as we fall
We mustn't resist.
And so we are,
so we shall be
free.
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 3:04 PM UTC
a dark place,
dingy and cobwebbed:
the forlorn basement
below an unfinished house;
there is no hope
of an HGTV house-flip
or a makeover
or the sort of boring/heartwarming story
where some nice white family
—or conveniently diverse—
sets up shop,
smash-cuts through a renovation
and gets their dream home.
no,
the house will remain gloomy,
this basement filled with emptiness;
no one desires
to come through the door,
no one except the tweakers
and the vagabonds
and the runaways,
the ****** and the pimps,
the celebrities and psychiatrists,
the demons and the ghosts,
the preachers and their seething
congregations of judgmental ******
that live across the street,
and the ***** teenagers
hunting for a place to try out ***
no cleaning crew
or maid service
or organize-your-life guru
or even the most experienced
of all the world’s janitors
could enter this house and clean it
or beautify this basement
or disenfranchise the squatters within;
the neighbors just try
and demolish it
every chance they get,
to rid their sparkling, spotless community
of this disgusting eyesore.
Dec 5, 2018
Dec 5, 2018 at 10:15 AM UTC
✨
*Let’s beautify our yards and homes
With the vibrant colours of Rangoli
And welcome the Goddess Laxmi
Let’s decorate our doors and windows with festoons of marigold flowers and mango leaves,
to ward off the evil and sprinkle positivity
Let’s brighten the evening sky
With sky lamps and fairy lights
May the earthen lamps be lit
To illuminate every corner bright
Let’s celebrate
The Festival of Lights,
Diwali
With friends and family
And bring cheer to our lives*
✨
Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 10:22 PM UTC
The cult moves in
circle. Stargazing
starts. You lie buried in
wet retreat. Eyes protruding
The veil sends a sweet death.
The death. Only you would
know, what was the conversation
between the repentant
and priest.
Superfluous. To beautify
the grimace. The lips―
always cheat.
A black cloud devours the moon.
Apr 18, 2017
Apr 18, 2017 at 10:03 PM UTC
A pen a pen my little pen
Slowly, I took a little pen
To write a poem with a pen
A poem, to beautify my pen
It’s a bonafide my little pen
A bar-like, my woody pen
A new, and passion my pen
It’s a grey-hued and little pen
And, it has a green bark a pen
Quite soft to touch my only pen
It’s a sharpen, my little pen
An iroko wood made my pen
A yellow part covered a pen
It’s a red, strike on my pen
With a black, strike my pen
Its look like a bow my pen
To write a bit with my pen
Supple to draw on, my pen
Can be use as dotting pen
Enclosed no ink in my pen
A bit looks like my little pen
To write, like my little pen
To sketch well, like my pen
To beautify, like a baby pen
Not like my handsome pen
May 21, 2020
May 21, 2020 at 5:23 PM UTC
The skin of your shoulders,
the skin of my teeth,
tripping tips of fingers,
eyes retreat and re-meet.
We made a mess
of your hair, sweet Lioness,
you grappled and tore,
bit, I kept it to a dull roar.
You, you did coo,
as I saw nothing through,
coos for crooning,
surreal, surreal, surreal.
Excite the hunter,
excite the huntress,
as we take turns playing the prey.
Levitate the weight,
paw at my soul,
I lick your sores,
and beautify the remains.
We made a mess
of your hair, sweet Lioness,
returned and renewed
a sense of pulse, a sense of the thrill.
You claim me again and again,
claw into me, spilling my demons,
whispers smoke, chaotic melody.
An overgrown field of sheets
laid flat,
no question, no success or distraction,
panting, panting, panting.
Sep 6, 2010
Sep 6, 2010 at 9:06 PM UTC
On every side was a wall of mesh
And in the middle she sat
What is out there beyond these walls? She wondered.
What if her visions of the world outside were false?
She was caged
She grew tired of her little house
What if I could get on the other side?
What if my wings were made not to only beautify?
She wondered
One push and her mesh house gave way
She stepped out and was greeted by the sunrays
Then she slipped, for her house was high up in a tree
She was falling; this must be the end of me
She cried
Suddenly, she noticed others with wings like hers
Why weren't they falling, crying?
Then she saw why and so she spread her wings
And for the first time she flapped them
She flew
And so began a new life for her
The world she dreamed of was right before her
She found herself, she found her wings, she learned to fly
She lived her dream, she soared up high
She was free
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 6:03 PM UTC
Humanity has no support to duty
Both contrary in dealing and punctuality:
Non-the-less deny each claims still their validity
Former needs emotional skip where later regularity!
Humanity is a thing roundly soul concern
Fancies of many idles, despotic and obligated.
Estimate not to beautify active approach return;
Deserve aid remarkable quiet pleasing black arts.
Duty declares the deed must accomplish statutable,
Gratitude, greed and gratification are sub-judice here-of:
A crazy caution compel to foil inapplicable
Yonker's pride, old hand cultivated doctrinal of.
Certain condition humanity plays role of pre-eminence
Duty looks wanting help out of heels,
Depending on probation passion of sincerity convince,
Rejecting deep binder satisfactorily set aside exceeds.
If stands duty and humanity both together,
Glorifies the spirit immortal as His name
And also deal showing clean impersonality further,
None appeal to mercy could not dare blame.
Jun 5, 2013
Jun 5, 2013 at 4:14 AM UTC
Heaven
. . . Have Mercy . . .
Rest, rest, rest, for ye be none,
pitiful Fallen One.
Quivering bows flow over grave strings
bassoons and basset horns ring
pounding timpani’s announce:
Master of the Holy Choir
- - Renounced - -
Vain, fluttering heart
sublimely denounced, scorned;
fouled, ousted:
Horned.
Wailing strings, bassoons,
basset horns, thundering kettle drums
lift angelic voices to glorious requiem.
Pleas for Eternal Light’s remain
in wings refrain.
Heavenly Chorus' cradle to sustain,
mercy to soften
disdain.
The Holy Oracle contests --
to no avail.
Siblings’ choir protests.
Beauty beyond measure,
Angel of pure, Divine tessitura,
Absolution for Thee?
Foretellers of dark illusion
open Holy Scriptures to reveal
the drone of Eternal Damnation:
trumpets of ill
drag Thee to Hell.
Deep, ephemeral rhythms
exalt dancing strings,
seal destinies -- Kiss The Almighty King.
Glory be unto His Majestic Reign,
Will Supreme,
Tremendous,
Powerful, Holy Being.
Scribes record,
recite this dreadful day,
condemn Thee: Fallen One.
trumpets lament, strings mock
this unholy, forbidden way.
Bows flutter -- a memoir
of redemption.
Cries of confusion
dissipate
into muffled choirs,
murmurings
of deliverance.
Delicate chants
beg for forgiveness;
a Soul’s salvation, fusion.
To no avail!
Turbulent strings strike the Holy Duel
in wrath, writhing hatred,
majestic wings tumble --
twist to wrenched ******
Death devours, Birth becomes
the Fallen One.
Angelic dissolution --
distraught, agonized Ethereal,
Eternally beautify
these ghostly, trembling
winds, strings, harpsichord, drums.
Voices of brotherhood remembered,
cushion Angel’s earthly descent.
Breathe into infantile genius
heavenly symphonies
to sweeten a life
trapped, scorned,
condemned,
mourned
Love of God: Amadé
Jul 17, 2012
Jul 17, 2012 at 11:02 AM UTC
In the heart of the city of peace, a sinful act occurs:
Blue bruises of love beautify my neck, just as hers;
Colouring this grey canvas of gloom with divine thuds,
It is then, when they rush into us: the filthy bloods.
Stain me with sins, and paint in white over me vigorously,
Let the gods who created us, design our hell rigorously,
Let knees rumble, red eyes tumble, and virtues stumble,
Stumble into a chaotic loss of heads: a loss humble.
Aug 28, 2021
Aug 28, 2021 at 7:39 AM UTC
My French Gem
The Rose tickler
finely handwritten
The movie part gave
her the sign life
crossed over gem
French kiss the morning
The burst of Kaleidoscope Sun
Double touched but forbidden
On the Cheetah necklace chase
The French Lieutenant
her body and lips moonstruck
On her chaise
To get over it another work of art
that got more attention
To revive her from drowning in
the gem scattered like a
benevolent
blue splat philanthropic
Looking more into his unknown
diving suit mixed
with envy green how she got mixed into
the stranger of Poison Ivy
Her love didn't show all her
attributes God spiritually well
She went to the pastry heart
how it flaked all
over like crystals
He was patiently sitting but got persuaded
That little gem of the lounge
Her firey gem was the canary
that got his tongue
Her gem stands taller
The crafted lines of quality in the
Pillars
"Le Bonheur De Vivre Gem-Art"
French kiss went inside the darker side of the painting
He's transformed.
Shape heart delicate uniform.
"Parisians on a mission
A kiss is a serious manner
LOVE" Gem birth opens her
He modifies her rainbow
Artwork of brush yellow
twinset platter hello fellow
the essence beloved to follow
So worth her wait being watched
By the crystal rock, he loved her
going up in spirit or she falls for him
The gem to be it
Magical modernly gem -fit clock.
See through hands meditation harp.
Lebonheur De Vivre fine art sharp.
Lips movement beyond hearts.
Le-bonheur De Vivre gem arts.
Artesian heels tapping boots.
Fall for Autumn love cahoots.
Beloved, divinely he's the healer.
The picture spoke she's the winner.
Wilderness he glides kisses prints.
Pushing her waves hints.
Everlasting one thought he's guessing?
Art never part beautify stem.
Eyes so genuine he's her gem.
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 9:26 AM UTC
sparkling gems adorn the night sky
studding the vast backdrop of black
glittering glints which do magnify
sparkling gems adorn the night sky
a dazzling splendor to ever beautify
sequined glories that verily eye smack
sparkling gems adorn the night sky
studding the vast backdrop of black
Sep 8, 2013
Sep 8, 2013 at 4:26 AM UTC
I'm not afraid to die of her smile
because no poison
no fuel, adulterated......
and no betray in her mind
when she smiles deep and sweetly
then I want to swim as much as I
and, of her tears like ocean
i wish I could swim, I can fly of her voice
I love her specifically, since
when we had been strangers for a day
for a night of flowering season
and we had smiled jointly by faced
I recalls that moments by heart and silenty
the beautiful moments returning
with holding her shadows --
she was smiled, that pictures arrived again
Like a baby of smallest ages I play
and the pictures makes me happy
as I feel like the climbing on the peak of mountain's
I love her smile
makeup, beautify herself and
everything of her fashion
and designing, and become natural beauty
i love her like a fish loves water
i love her like a bird loves sky
Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 9:45 AM UTC
Open up to me, he says
But inside there is nothing but void
Feel a little, he says
Little does he know
Every word that spills from his mouth
Injects itself into my blood
The anesthetic that numbs my soul
Listen to me, he yells
But all I hear is noise.
They want to fix me
Want to hammer out the perfect girl
To fit into their crumbling little world
-- a doll to beautify their cemetery
their collection of hollowed out bodies.
I may be empty but I’ve already been a token
Too many times.
Let me fix you, they say.
But all they do is break me.
Take more from me.
Let me fix you, they say.
Never once did they ask to heal me.
Try to glue me back together.
I’m already open.
But I was broken into.
Robbed.
Shattered
Hammered.
Invaded.
I’m already open
But you don’t like what you see
I guess it’s not pretty to watch me bleed.
I’m already open.
But you don’t like what you’ve found.
******* away the pain won’t do no good,
So put me back down.
Inject me with your silent poison and
Put
Me
Down.
-lf-
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 1:31 AM UTC
Praise ye the Lord. Sing unto the
Lord a new song, and his praise
in the congregation of saints.
2 Let Israel rejoice in him that
made him: let the children of Zion be
joyful in their King.
3 Let them praise his name in the
dance: let them sing praises unto him
with the timbrel and harp.
4 For the Lord taketh pleasure
in his people: he will beautify the
meek with salvation.
5 Let the saints be joyful in glory:
let them sing aloud upon their beds.
6 Let the high praises of God be
in their mouth, and a twoedged sword
in their hand:
7 To execute vengeance upon the
heathen, and punishments upon the
people:
8 To bind their kings with chains,
and their nobles with fetters of iron;
9 To execute upon them the
judgment written: this honour have all his
saints. Praise ye the Lord.
Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 10:50 AM UTC
Daylight breaks the midnight mist,
As the sun finds its true place in the sky,
All of creation prepares for the day ahead.
All is well,
Nature,
A mystery itself,
Takes its first breath,
Flowers fill the air with their fragrance,
Birds fill the sky with their chirps,
Trees sway as they beautify the earth,
As the sun rises.
Jonesy 2016 ©
Aug 11, 2016
Aug 11, 2016 at 9:26 PM UTC
Guarantee the valley...
Sweat and simple salt
Shared by constant, and fluent reasons
The tale of taste in a long run, for a hidden fault
Twists of fate, insists of courtesy
The truth be told, I have no problem
With wisdom, the tale of evidentiality
But a wise more, to finish anger, is our whim
Latent, the sobbing of a charisma
Sweet endeavor, do I seem the better of others?
When a promise of significance, is ours for the only dilemma
That will make liberty, a levity in justice, the irony of lovers?
We have the time, to tell you another story...
Through the timid shall, the world has a future to beautify
With all of a sincerity's bloom, a pyre to worry?
And the coming victory of self and same, a lucre we identify
With hatred...
Here to say, in language we see, is an assured privilege
The tows of compelling a home to sing the body lead
To wishes in the name of God, is anywhere here and now, a legend?
Poise of a common nose, to the grindstone
Welcome us to the table of vice, like a halt of decency
Among the clouds or finished with sunshine early, we have sown
The new, with now, the needs of all; any soul to show humanity...
Jul 1, 2022
Jul 1, 2022 at 8:27 PM UTC
floral effervescence
wafts around you
thy theo black temperament rose iq
ushers lulabies as playful amor kru
apollo is falling for the aquamarine
rays, reflecting the sea's craved ardour
and our love is like a cyclamen oleandro
the fascinating, dissolving, poisonous sleep
inwardly unaware of the whitest clouds oro
seducing the beauty of a ceruelan absolute ~
if i were the wave i would foam your dream
if you were a black panther i'd be your kaa
for a day to experience your mighty paws
to tremble like open window shutters, strickened
by the fire, by light, by thunderbolt's love flame
oh, come on, come on sweet man of the fantasia
i've got to tell you i ain't foolin' around those dim
alleys at nights like this; luscious calls lure hello
at least, hear my hearts deepest throbbings, hear
them, embrace them, conquer my world's cream
taste the strawberry sweeteness on a tip of me, u
trickle your tongue against my open buoyancy
write kaligrafic words of love's invisible tint
beautify the untouched pergament, maestro
write like there's no time nor tomorrow's no;
inaugure every christmas crickets flash mob
within you and awaken me from a slumber,
deeply rooted, lovely and mild as wood's chi
and I will cherish you, praise and love long
forgotten wild forest's animals as panacea
for the dissolving salt upon a love wound
which torchered your solitude for who's
pleasure, for what reason, for a slick slap
of an epic trustful faith as lux aeterna
crashing the myth of a love superior;
a desolation of waning touches soma
hiding its fragility in madmind's attempt
to overcome what's earth's given inferno;
to die in a lustful blazing heat of creatio
contemplating about heavenly key lock
how to forge a golden key to your anima,
gracefully giving a hand to her emperor
to dance on a verge of an existence' folie
to blossom upon hushed world's meridian
in dreamy space n' time, first darlin' flush
the prime animus dances, dares, waters~
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 3:50 PM UTC
"How beautiful are your tents, O Jacob,
Your dwelling places, O Israel!"
Thy children gather,
telescoping generations,
O Jacob, what do thine eyes ascertain.
what history do they memorize?
Coalescing younger star clusters,
disparate related families uniting,
embedding as a single unity,
a star cloud,
shedding a new light,
the astronomers awed, witnesses,
a super-star cluster birthed.
The beauty of thy tents,
thy wealth, O Jacob,
is their multiplicity,
their construct and content.
The web of thy tissue,
bindings, linkages,
what resides within thy tents,
acknowledge, testify, that
the strength of thy issue,
are the Matriarchs,
managers of thy destiny,
mothers of thy dynasty,
The Sarah's, Leah's, the Rachel's,
the Fay's, the Ginger's, the Miriam's
these jewels bedeck, beautify,
brides and bridles of thy tents,
master mistresses of thy dwellings,
without them, O Jacob,
you, but, just,
another desert tribe.
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 3:16 PM UTC
Today I found out not every encounter counts.
It is merely made up of accidental meets.
We beautify it so that it becomes legendary,
As if life itself isn't.
Is it me or everybody that are too obsessed with
So called meant to be?
Encounter only counts if it is to be told,
For decades, for century.
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 10:41 AM UTC
Walmart Heaven
You can find them coast to coast
from the north and to the south
a chain of retail stores we
could never live without.
For the majority it's Walmart,
but Wally World to some,
a place we visit often
to get our shopping done.
There's always a surprise as you're
greeted at the door,
some of them unpleasant
some you simply can't ignore.
From bedroom slippers to stretch
pants you hoped you'd never see,
there's always something different
such endless possibilities.
You can get your hair and nails done,
eyes examined too,
cash your paycheck, file your taxes,
Walmart does it all for you.
Maybe that's the beautify of this
famous retail chain,
that keeps us coming back
time and time again.
Written By Kathy J Parenteau
Copyright © Jan 2014
All Rights Reserved
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 7:17 PM UTC
Today I wrote a song about your teeth.
They are crooked and imperfect.
Just like this. Our hands. And these
songbirds are all liars. We haven’t learned.
Flesh memory is overrated. Last night
I felt the linen, and it whispered to me
nothing. Not even the shape of you
reminds me of happiness. What is the use
of these metaphors if they can’t
beautify you anymore. No longer as fierce
as the inferno I allowed you to become.
Drowning in bedclothes, trying to understand how streams of consciousness
are becoming bodies of water. Today
I wrote a song about your teeth. And I
read it aloud to the voiceless, and now
they know what love tastes like.
Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 12:06 AM UTC
i am not going to beautify our love story
with words that sound like melodies
and events that only happen in movies,
because it wasn't beautiful,
nor was it a love story.
it was a tragedy filled with
the chaos of having the
right person, but the wrong time.
one thousand ninety five days
and i was a second too late.
the end was written
and the book was closed.
us became you and i,
i love you turned into
i loved you,
i looked at you, but
you were already looking at her.
you were supposed to be
the one who stayed,
but eventually became
the one who left.
and now, you're just another story
that i keep in my secret drawer
labeled all the boys i've cried over.
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 1:52 PM UTC