"belied" poems
My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips’ red;
If snow be white, why then her ******* are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks,
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know,
That music hath a far more pleasing sound.
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.
6.6k
How it felt about when she smiled
Her roses were red wine
Teeth were an iceberg in a cold sea
I didn't know she knew me more than by name
I walked head up to her in a confident laze
She always willed to lay a hand in a steamy time
Whenever she called me by my pet name
I would light up a grin
How I couldn't help her spell
How much I belied of having a way out
The more she drew close, the more I sank in
How she made seduction a white collar trade
The lavish eyes, the lazy talk, the pure feminine mien
She pat on my shoulder and turned to catch a glance
Asked what made her hands a soft pleasure
Whispered that she was schooled in pottery and making dough
I couldn't stop but ask about the flawless curves
She pushed out her lips and said I used to spin a ring at nine
I asked her out for a movie
She said tragedies make her cry
One day I went to look down through my office windowpane
My sight met hers taking down a secret gang
With a fierce nine millimeter gun
I was left speechless in awe
We needed to rethink our revolution
On her mission in Damascus a plane crashed
I still cried a pail.
Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 1:56 PM UTC
the shoes are imprinted with the paved streets
there is never enough time
our eyes sparkle
but the eyebags belied the many nights
whiled away
smiling at the stars
new maps every night
gazes change as the skies change
we traverse different longitudes
trees spill into trees
there never was a need to distinguish
our passports fading crumbling
paths always leading to each other
will we still be left with an identity?
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 12:02 PM UTC
Reminiscing what had been,
Of the times when by your eyes,
Only I was seen.
Never will I hold their attention, never again,
Never will I have that affection, ever again.
I wish I could change what we have come to be,
I wish we could still be us,
Not just you and me.
When I asked you how you were doing,
If you were well,
Your fake laughter belied everything,
Of the pain inside it did tell.
I see how hard you work to convince me,
But I see through the hypocrisy.
I wish I could still tell you everything is going to be okay,
I know this separation makes it harder for you every day.
I wish I could change what we have come to be,
I wish we could still be us,
Not just you and me.
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 8:24 PM UTC
Stupid princess
Shove me by
Stick your golden forks
In my eyes
You are cruel
Belied by your fragility
Know the face of the devil
When you deign to
LOOK AT ME
The chimney sweep
In your court
Will one day **** you
When you pet the sheep
You slaughter
Sick goldie locks
Tantrum queen
Beware the fox
With mind obscene
Cogs inside, turning
Your pretty head burning
Beware the chimney sweep
Sweet dear
The chimney sweep
The overlooked creep
This thing with eyes aglow with malice
She'll hold you near
Your locks she'll shear
Your blood drunk from a chalice
The chimney sweep
Your contrast, sugar
Will eat your liver
And lick her fingers
So pray deliverance!
Pretty ringlets!
Pray deliverance
Pretty ringlets
Don't. . . push. . . me
She squeals
Like a pig
Under carriage wheels
DON'T. . . PUSH. . . ME
She yells
As inside
A demon swells
DON'T PUSH ME!
It comes out like grit
Comes out like stone
A groan -
Burns through like a fiery fist
A fit feisty enough to make you
Envy it
So SHUT UP
AND SIT
Fair darling
Fair darling
SHUT UP AND SIT
SHUT UP AND SIT!
The chimney sweep now has you
The chimney sweep will surpass you
The chimney sweep chops and chops
The chimney sweep won't stop
Won't stop
Till the clock runs nil
Till time does still
Till the chimney sweep has
Bled her fill
The chimney sweep
Sweet doe,
Beware what the chimney sweep
Does know
Better
Think twice
About an attack
Because the chimney sweep
WILL ******* PUSH BACK.
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 7:27 PM UTC
My vision of you,
Belied if tallied with stars in the night,
Like the moon lit blue.
Don’t tell me it’s true,
When I dare say you’re my sunlight,
If asked my vision of you.
Because there are so few,
Paintings that describe you right,
Your beauty like the moon lit blue.
Won’t you tell me a clue?
How do I eternalize this precious kite?
To keep my vision of you.
If only you knew,
You leave me breathless, gone my flight,
Tamed like the moon lit blue.
I pledge my true-blue
Forever be my pride, my delight, my side,
For my vision of you,
Is authentic like the moon lit blue.
Aug 7, 2023
Aug 7, 2023 at 11:47 AM UTC
A woman traipsed with the whole company of ballet;
She was but only a soloist, a mere sujet.
Her companions wore clothes for traveling hard,
But our sujet, she dressed in dancing shoes and leotard.
Her head was upturned and her nose pointed
High, as if by a great saint she had been anointed.
With ease she stretched into each dainty pose
But no other ballerina saw the bandages wrapped around her toes,
Which she had to replace every other hour;
Seeing her bleeding sores did often make her cower.
To the other ballerinas she was dismissive and ****
But her oft-clenched fists belied the faltering of her heart.
Her chestnut hair she had dyed golden like the rest
And her curves became thin so she would dance her very best;
She had hidden herself inside ‘till her olive skin turned pale,
Believing if she fit in, at her craft she never could fail.
Instead of breaking her fast or supping at night
She practiced her art and took nary a bite.
The ballet troupe sneered while the sujet put on her airs
Yet I know she wept at the ice hardened in their stares.
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 9:08 PM UTC
Sadie was a doubtful one
Her mind was tightly shut
When faced with the fantastical
She’d fold her arms and tut
She pranced around her garden
With an playful evil aura
And dealt a merry flattening
To all that passed before her
Their bodies lay around her
And an imp of mischief found her
She loved to trap and poison
And wished she’d been a spider
When a fizzing overtook her
When a rumble grew inside her
When a shrinking and a shrivelling
Across her form did tickle
And soon did Sadie realise
That wishes can be fickle
Her legs and arms divided
Her eyeballs multiply did
So sorry Sadie scuttled
Alternating creep and crawl
She tippy-toe’d across the grass
And past her victims all
And sadness was upon her
And with mourning in her eyes
Her grief compounded hunger
And an appetite for flies
Her lengthy limbs belied her
Sorry Sadie was a spider
She loped along a lily
And her sorrow turned to guilt
Her carapace was aching
For the blood which she had spilt
She wept a web of anguish
With her sticky little tears
She wound a downward spiral
Like the falling of the years
Her malice had been stunted
Her fangs were dull and blunted
Sadie gained existence
On a web of worldly woes
She fed her tiny tummy
Where the buzz and flutter goes
And she learned the price of living
So she killed just what she ate
And she knew why killing needlessly
Was such an ugly trait
And with a human soul inside her
She chose to be a spider
Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 12:56 PM UTC
men were terrified,
of the power females held
thus, women belied
Jan 19, 2020
Jan 19, 2020 at 10:09 AM UTC
Be wise as thou art cruel; do not press
My tongue-tied patience with too much disdain,
Lest sorrow lend me words and words express
The manner of my pity-wanting pain.
If I might teach thee wit, better it were,
Though not to love, yet, love, to tell me so,
As testy sick men, when their deaths be near,
No news but health from their physicians know.
For if I should despair, I should grow mad,
And in my madness might speak ill of thee,
Now this ill-wresting world is grown so bad,
Mad slanderers by mad ears believèd be.
That I may not be so, nor thou belied,
Bear thine eyes straight, though thy proud heart go wide.
1.8k
The Contra jour man hid his grimace,
watching the Punch and Judy show
with vignettes of spectators in like denial,
he clenched his fists
fearful of the spotlight
yet he could not surrender pain
Eventually he try to break the rules
and heal underneath.
Yet his crucifix a new seaside town
with a floodlit vaudeville
presenting songs of belied memories
to which he can only raise a mug
of out of season white burgundy
apparently leading the dance nowhere.
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 2:58 PM UTC
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret,Kenya;[email protected])
Sembene Ouasmane the son of a fisherman
the son of wolof tribesmen the owners of Atlantic
you are a bad liar, my kinsman and foreman
why didn't you wait for me to grow up
you only belied to me for your to die earlier
i begged for your pipe for i also to **** it with passion
you told me to hold on until i grow up
only for you to accede to July death in 2007
i am tortured in this life without without you
agonized by daily chores without a glance at the fume of smokes
being blown from the magnificent ceramic pipe on your mouth,
i wanted you teach me what Maxim Gorky and Emile Zola taught you
i wanted to learn from you what you learned at the Moscow cinema school
was it cinematographic Marxism or filmographic socialism that you learned?
i wanted to get you alive so that we can sing together the songs of Cedo and Xala,
why were your gods collecting the pieces of wood; was it humility and humanism?
I wanted to see the powerful words of human side of governance
coming from you sober gentle mouth onto African plateau
that is replete with commonaplace selfish power struggles,
i will build a monument in respect of your service to African literature
and your service to protection of humanity;both Arabic and African
your service to humanity as you forgave a French woman who stole your book
only to publish it under her name in a dint of ****** wham pam pams.
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 10:09 AM UTC
A plain woman in a checkered dress
Trapped on a windy hill
With a man whose every thought
Was crops and cows and bad weather coming,
You cooked every meal on time,
Served lunches exactly at 12:00
When the hands aligned.
You drove "flagger,"
moving trucks and tractors
From field to field,
Raised two boys and two girls
To be God-fearing citizens,
Buried one in shock and disbelief;
And then moved on.
I know your secret.
There on that swept-neat farmstead,
Under the green roofs,
Beside the red barn,
In your white walls,
The rational order,
The unnatural neatness
Belied you.
Lydia...
You of the Romantic Heart,
You of the secret desire and passion.
Beside your chair in that sparse house
Stood a stack of romance novels
In easy reach,
An escape from harsh reality.
What guilty ecstasies you managed to steal
Came five miles from the post office,
Ninety-five cents a copy,
Wrapped in brown paper,
Tucked in a galvanized milk pail.
Ahhh.
The stolen moments!
The bliss of passions and handsome strangers
Ready to take you from dry and wind-blown land.
Feb 12, 2012
Feb 12, 2012 at 6:35 PM UTC
Facing
catching breath
with sudden skin
hands pull in
never close enough
with lips unclosed
not unclothed
we shouldn't
but we could
oh how we would
and why?
for who we were
there
see that foggy window
long gone now
where behind
our shut eyes
we warm belied
the leather cold
Jan 27, 2018
Jan 27, 2018 at 8:07 PM UTC
I saw the words on a page
And read their joy
Their hope
Their heart
I saw the words on a page
And it ripped my world apart
I saw the words on a page
Penned before my heart was yours
I saw the words on a page
Of how your love for her endures
I saw the words on a page
Kept with all your special things
I saw the words on a page
Read dreams of wedding rings
I saw the words on a page
Of a dream you never spoke
I saw the words on a page
They made my own begin to choke
I saw the words on a page
Of a time when love was true
I saw the words on a page
And read what she means to you
I saw the words on a page
You claim love never dies
I saw the words on a page
Now I see it in your eyes
I saw the words on a page
You know my hearts allure
I saw the words on a page
I know that she holds yours
I saw the words on a page
I see what you can't deny
I saw the words on a page
Your love for me belied
I saw the words on a page
And read their joy
Their hope
Their heart
I saw the words on a page
And it ripped my world apart
I saw the words
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 3:27 PM UTC
Momma was a bleeder
***** on the stairs outside the complex
Mainstays all unraveled
mildewed and rotting on the concrete decks
Her ceaseless curtain calls
belied the prescriptions for falling down
She was a butterfly hurricane comin’ from the coast
makin’ eddies swirl sanguine pools
Even Kruger wasn’t dumb enough to jump in her grey-outs
the guy simply walked away
Feb 10, 2010
Feb 10, 2010 at 7:01 PM UTC
My talent (or my curse) is getting lost:
my routes are recondite and esoteric.
Perverted turns on every road I crossed
have dogged my feet from Dover up to Berwick.
My move to London only served to show
what fearful feast of foolishness was mine:
I lost my way from Tower Hill to Bow,
and rode the wrong way round the Circle Line.
In nameless London lanes I wandered then
whose tales belied my tattered A to Z,
and even now, in memory again
I plod despairing, Barking in my head,
still losing track of who and where I am,
silent, upon a street in Dagenham.
Nov 1, 2010
Nov 1, 2010 at 3:56 PM UTC
Where I am is somewhere sacred
Where I am is somewhere familiar
Where I am is a place hidden
behind so many recognizable traps
and unmistakable signs
It's a place so predictable
A feeling so sour
So rotten
So old
And I know I'll remember it forever
because I'll always feel the pull
Words are spoken
that are meant to change the course.
Acts reenacted
over sentiments enforced
If love were all to life
then life is mine no more
If wisdom came with age
There'd be nothing left to *****
Offered is a body, emptied
of everything it felt,
Playing one final game
with the meager cards it has been dealt.
A pattern is forming wherein nothing lasts
a hole is growing and consuming all within its path
Whatever I was before
I feel slowly molded anew
Whatever I once hoped for
my dreams now are few
spinning around one desire
one shining, brief embrace -
that lead me to believe in something
that can never be replaced.
All I am is hate.
All I give is pain.
My heart is used to grieving
over nothing
ventured or gained
whatever words i speak
whatever emotions flood my soul
it's nothingness that fills the ears
and mystifies the goal
you won't understand
whoever you are
these words aren't for you
or anyone at all
these words are simply full
of an empty, futile wish
i want to know there's meaning
i want to know there's life
beyond all the pointlessness
beyond the sharpest knife
so say what you will
say nothing at all
say you saw it coming
say you know it all
say you never loved me
say you never will
so that i can let go
and find peace in growing still
there was love, at once
true and false
there was happiness
that belied any loss
The part of me that hopes
The part of me that dies
The part disgusted by my treachery
and pathetic, selfish lies
The part of me that's hurt
The part of me that grows
Won't be satisfied by words alone
Nor his impassioned throes
It's a choice I alone must make
to sever bitter bonds
that hold me to a life so
ignorant, and memories long gone.
The change I could make today
So simple, so I've heard,
requires only mindfulness
and breaking from the herd
To become a ripple in the pond
a leaf
upon the fruited tree
so that when last breath I draw
the farthest thought will be of "me".
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 12:52 PM UTC
words are tools
some are blind
off guard and unready
caught in unwavering
beautiful green eyes
sunshine smiles
willing they, the fools
visually taken by you
as lovely as you are
barter away my protection
believe the words
spoken from full and practiced lips
as my lust consumes
ability to recognise truth from fiction
what's mine is foreign
apparition of such belied intentions
as lovely as you are
take as few or leave none
interested in pleasing
forgetting my own
cause for you i care too greatly
to doubt the sincerity
care not when you lie
the world is a gift to those
amazing green eyes
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 4:05 AM UTC
SONNET 130
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her ******* are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 3:47 PM UTC
I hear the falcon
but not the falconer;
its prescient screech
claws at my ears
The shadow of its wings
is delivered by the sun
but those who gather
in its path cry out in vain
The worst conflate
their ways with
passionate intensity,
belied by lack of
true sincerity
And yet the best
decline to rise or cease
virtue as vulnerability;
they watch unwittingly
as the falcon turns above,
finding no footsteps
into Bethlehem
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 7:59 AM UTC