"boastfulness" poems - Hello Poetry

this is a page about how you broke her bones brutally. blinding her days into the darkness she couldn’t settle for a stand. “this is your sin.” love was great, love was strong. but, she felt small and very alone. she has been good with broken things. she is a big bang of catastrophe, an eruption of God’s tears. if you just didn’t promise, she was whole without your shadow. a promise is a sin. and there is a sea of promises bare of thunderstorm needs to be nurtured because she has been damaged with your bona fide lies. a dudgeon. her voice is hoarse, a singer of your sobriquet name. nights are no absolution and her cries are getting softer. she wanders aimlessly to the 12 am's. for her, this is exactly what death looks like. a midnight snack and frozen story with her bedroom’s wall. she locked herself in a funeral she called a slumber. your love was a fanciful story, but one night away from the present time. “this is your sin, and now she’s a sinner.” she has been fragile and your love was boastfulness. she was a rose and you brought her wrong. this time, it’s her period of middlescence. maybe you love her but your goodbye was more intimate on her guessing mind. she was no longer a human, nor ghost in your grasp. she is a belle of disaster. but a million miles away, you will beg her to come back home. and missing her will be the only thing you need to shrive. she has struggled to pluck your name and deep in the ground up you know she will. and you expect her to be whole for your bathos tub. the riot forms within your lungs, and you had enjoyed as a fabulist to her. she was your joke and games. she's altering your lies into poetry. her dictums soon to be as soft as the dusk teaches her tenderness. to tame the seas inside her, you have to tame her kingdom with thousands of armor. and her Lord listens to her prayer.

0

Mar 11, 2017

Mar 11, 2017 at 5:52 AM UTC

detentedawnlight

Your Broken Belle

this is a page about how you broke her bones brutally. blinding her days into the darkness she couldn’t settle for a stand. “this is your sin.” love was great, love was strong. but, she felt small and very alone. she has been good with broken things. she is a big bang of catastrophe, an eruption of God’s tears. if you just didn’t promise, she was whole without your shadow. a promise is a sin. and there is a sea of promises bare of thunderstorm needs to be nurtured because she has been damaged with your bona fide lies. a dudgeon. her voice is hoarse, a singer of your sobriquet name. nights are no absolution and her cries are getting softer. she wanders aimlessly to the 12 am's. for her, this is exactly what death looks like. a midnight snack and frozen story with her bedroom’s wall. she locked herself in a funeral she called a slumber. your love was a fanciful story, but one night away from the present time. “this is your sin, and now she’s a sinner.” she has been fragile and your love was boastfulness. she was a rose and you brought her wrong. this time, it’s her period of middlescence. maybe you love her but your goodbye was more intimate on her guessing mind. she was no longer a human, nor ghost in your grasp. she is a belle of disaster. but a million miles away, you will beg her to come back home. and missing her will be the only thing you need to shrive. she has struggled to pluck your name and deep in the ground up you know she will. and you expect her to be whole for your bathos tub. the riot forms within your lungs, and you had enjoyed as a fabulist to her. she was your joke and games. she's altering your lies into poetry. her dictums soon to be as soft as the dusk teaches her tenderness. to tame the seas inside her, you have to tame her kingdom with thousands of armor. and her Lord listens to her prayer.

40

By Arcassin B Seen the lovin' coming from a mile away in my Only line of vision with precision looking for a better Future with her, I search for growth in the dirt , I mean soil, Granting me wishes that I soley deserve, I got your feelings on a platter , you can't even get away from me, The grass is greener everyday when you smile in anomaly, The trees growing in disproportionate commonly epitome , Didn't make no sense there but your skin so heavenly like Angels And their boastfulness and privileged to the recent decisions you make in your life Thinking what I could have done if I had chosen the commandments over the Unconsciousness world of evil at its finest component, Wasn't ready for those moments, I don't want my last moments, To be a ball full of hate towards others that have not showed me respect, You take that all in and recollect, I'm retrospect, Place your bet, Love for an angel is a blessing sent, From the Lord himself, Gathering up all of my wealth.... / ....*a wealth-that I *- can share with you, You don't have to say a thing , your beauty says a lot With the features, I know- that you've - been waiting, for love to come sweep you off your feet pretty baby, the cold- will se-parate us, in a state of loss of the love that we had for each other, But you don't have to say a thing, I love holding hands with you.

0

Aug 16, 2016

Aug 16, 2016 at 9:41 AM UTC

arcassin-burnham

First Touch / Hand Holding Riddim (Snippet)

By Arcassin B Seen the lovin' coming from a mile away in my Only line of vision with precision looking for a better Future with her, I search for growth in the dirt , I mean soil, Granting me wishes that I soley deserve, I got your feelings on a platter , you can't even get away from me, The grass is greener everyday when you smile in anomaly, The trees growing in disproportionate commonly epitome , Didn't make no sense there but your skin so heavenly like Angels And their boastfulness and privileged to the recent decisions you make in your life Thinking what I could have done if I had chosen the commandments over the Unconsciousness world of evil at its finest component, Wasn't ready for those moments, I don't want my last moments, To be a ball full of hate towards others that have not showed me respect, You take that all in and recollect, I'm retrospect, Place your bet, Love for an angel is a blessing sent, From the Lord himself, Gathering up all of my wealth.... / ....*a wealth-that I *- can share with you, You don't have to say a thing , your beauty says a lot With the features, I know- that you've - been waiting, for love to come sweep you off your feet pretty baby, the cold- will se-parate us, in a state of loss of the love that we had for each other, But you don't have to say a thing, I love holding hands with you.

33

O timeless sloth, I must with thee abide, Let it be not to my own destruction. Another life from me thou must divide, Say to me t’was of mine own instruction! I cling desperately to thine branches I must weather the slings and arrows of Most untimely sharp commands, and blanches At my staunch resoluteness thereof. Cease! Cease! See not the moss amongst my hairs, Nor my talon-like nails, still, motionless. Judge not, entwined as thou art in bland affairs In your gray monuments to boastfulness For nothing is equal to nothing. To mime futile work is all but bluffing.

0

Nov 5, 2019

Nov 5, 2019 at 4:04 PM UTC

hannah-37

Sonnet 1 - Ode To Sloth

O timeless sloth, I must with thee abide, Let it be not to my own destruction. Another life from me thou must divide, Say to me t’was of mine own instruction! I cling desperately to thine branches I must weather the slings and arrows of Most untimely sharp commands, and blanches At my staunch resoluteness thereof. Cease! Cease! See not the moss amongst my hairs, Nor my talon-like nails, still, motionless. Judge not, entwined as thou art in bland affairs In your gray monuments to boastfulness For nothing is equal to nothing. To mime futile work is all but bluffing.

14

I look into the mirror And what do I see? A wizened old man Looking back at me. How did this happen How did he get here? Wasn’t I a young man Not more than last year? Where did the lines come from The wrinkles and the spots? I used to have some gray hair Now I seem to have lots. And am I not shorter now Than I had seemed before? Now my vision seems too fuzzy To successfully ignore. I made a mocking muscle By bending my arm to see. What became of my bicep? It looks small and sort of puny. I decided to see it all, so I stepped a bit back and felt A roundness, an expanse, A pudgy fullness at my belt. This comes from not being A slave to my own mirror. If I had been watching myself My image might be clearer. I might have seen before now This aging, doddering old fool. But I only looked when I had to. Lack of boastfulness was the rule. So I now I am a camera trick Played by a mischievous director Who slipped this aging body past My doddering old **** detector. Now it remains for me to accept What I have long since become, And admit that I can no longer be As I have for decades been: numb.

0

Apr 29, 2018

Apr 29, 2018 at 5:26 PM UTC

brent-kincaid

FUNHOUSE MIRROR

I look into the mirror And what do I see? A wizened old man Looking back at me. How did this happen How did he get here? Wasn’t I a young man Not more than last year? Where did the lines come from The wrinkles and the spots? I used to have some gray hair Now I seem to have lots. And am I not shorter now Than I had seemed before? Now my vision seems too fuzzy To successfully ignore. I made a mocking muscle By bending my arm to see. What became of my bicep? It looks small and sort of puny. I decided to see it all, so I stepped a bit back and felt A roundness, an expanse, A pudgy fullness at my belt. This comes from not being A slave to my own mirror. If I had been watching myself My image might be clearer. I might have seen before now This aging, doddering old fool. But I only looked when I had to. Lack of boastfulness was the rule. So I now I am a camera trick Played by a mischievous director Who slipped this aging body past My doddering old **** detector. Now it remains for me to accept What I have long since become, And admit that I can no longer be As I have for decades been: numb.

40

One of the only redeemable qualities Of the mass transportation system know as the modern highway Is occasionally I’ll catch a glimpse of a hawk on a light pole Patiently standing watch for the next in a long history of casualties A majority of these casualties are non-human and so acceptable as long as we all still get to work on time And I still remember the hawk in the woods Clutching a blue jay in its talons Not far from where months later I’ll find the body of a deer I stand and observe it for quite awhile Half expecting it to get up and start walking again There is a strange feeling you get when seeing the lifeless body of an animal that large Almost as if you are being entrusted with a secret Between me and he trees and the flies that buzz around it’s head Every time I pass the body now I leave a stone as a sign of respect A silly thing to do maybe But I’d hope people would do the same for me after I’m 6 feet under And the question always arises in my mind if I will ever live a life That matches the freedom that deer experienced until it met its end These are not topics to dwell on too often or for two long Something this existential is best left for the coffeehouse crowds whether you choose to join them or not Instead I think I’m more jealous of the community of the pack, the group, not a mindless collective blindly following the one next to them but the conscious collective How together they are stronger Maybe I’ll bring back the way of the warrior poet Enlightened, but without the boastfulness Strong, but without need to prove it But maybe for now, I’ll just keep an eye out for any hawks by the highway And the deer hidden deep beneath the trees

0

Apr 7, 2019

Apr 7, 2019 at 7:16 PM UTC

daniel-robinson

A Poem for the Hawk that Watches the Freeway

One of the only redeemable qualities Of the mass transportation system know as the modern highway Is occasionally I’ll catch a glimpse of a hawk on a light pole Patiently standing watch for the next in a long history of casualties A majority of these casualties are non-human and so acceptable as long as we all still get to work on time And I still remember the hawk in the woods Clutching a blue jay in its talons Not far from where months later I’ll find the body of a deer I stand and observe it for quite awhile Half expecting it to get up and start walking again There is a strange feeling you get when seeing the lifeless body of an animal that large Almost as if you are being entrusted with a secret Between me and he trees and the flies that buzz around it’s head Every time I pass the body now I leave a stone as a sign of respect A silly thing to do maybe But I’d hope people would do the same for me after I’m 6 feet under And the question always arises in my mind if I will ever live a life That matches the freedom that deer experienced until it met its end These are not topics to dwell on too often or for two long Something this existential is best left for the coffeehouse crowds whether you choose to join them or not Instead I think I’m more jealous of the community of the pack, the group, not a mindless collective blindly following the one next to them but the conscious collective How together they are stronger Maybe I’ll bring back the way of the warrior poet Enlightened, but without the boastfulness Strong, but without need to prove it But maybe for now, I’ll just keep an eye out for any hawks by the highway And the deer hidden deep beneath the trees

31

Death, it's a hard thing, It comes so unexpectedly, Rips through everyone's heart, Breaks it to pieces. Death, it's hard to grasp, Hard to comprehend, Hard to wrap ourselves around, But yet it goes around. Death, it makes it's rounds, Without prejudice, but full of pride, And boastfulness, Death.

0

Mar 20, 2019

Mar 20, 2019 at 11:25 PM UTC

ray-carty

Death

Death, it's a hard thing, It comes so unexpectedly, Rips through everyone's heart, Breaks it to pieces. Death, it's hard to grasp, Hard to comprehend, Hard to wrap ourselves around, But yet it goes around. Death, it makes it's rounds, Without prejudice, but full of pride, And boastfulness, Death.

12