"bravado" poems
Together they were the perfect team.
She was tired of perfection long before she met him. Constantly having to put up a successful front was exhausting, but her barrier of bravado was faltering.
It's hard to find imperfections in an idyllic world.
He didn't want to live in the life of his reputation anymore. The tornado that his life had become was beginning to ruin him and he wanted nothing more to find some quiet.
It's hard to find solace in the storm.
No longer did she want to create masterpieces; she wanted to wreak havoc. She had a taste of the life she wanted, but once you take the first few steps on the path of self-destruction, you cannot turn back. The whisper in the wind becomes seductive. Like a drug, she needed it. She made a U-turn, a complete diversion from the road that had been paved for her. She felt a rush from the change of direction, and fell in love with it. He was her change of direction.
It's hard to find fault in someone that provides the mess you've been searching for.
He wanted nothing more than some peace in his whirlwind of a life; maybe that's why he gravitated towards her. She gave him the comfort that he had desired for years. She made him feel as if the rollercoaster, designed as a downwards spiral, that he has been riding since birth was starting to calm down. She became the sense of calm in his brutal life.
It's impossible to reject something you have been seeking for years.
Together they were unstoppable. She lost herself in his chaos and she took it on herself. She was an angel who lost her way, blinded by desire for imperfection and love for a boy that finally made her feel again. He was a hurricane that found the solace in her that he has wanted for what felt like an eternity. He revelled in the peace she brought to his life and he loved her more than he could articulate.
She found her demon; she became a fallen angel, the devil reincarnate that took the chaos out of his life and put it into hers.
He found his angel; he became a quiet rainfall that gave his tornado to the girl that craved the destruction it created.
Together they were the perfect team.
Feb 27, 2018
Feb 27, 2018 at 3:42 PM UTC
In time you’ll recover and absolve
push those scorned impressions aside
hammer down the jaded edges
and sing
that delightful commoners song
the one you sang so well
in what seems a lifetime ago
You really had it you know
that fiery disposition and nimble cunning
those butter chords and derelict style
we could see it -- we could all see it
it was all it took to turn the evening tide
(and rile that buck fever)
heads bashing
tongues lambasting
middle fingers high
and raising Cain on those may fly statesmen
There were no rules
when it came to your survival
no textbook rally or common bond
no structured songbird or bravado stage
you either made it, or laid it
“life by the ***** Mr. Poppy would say
a kaleidoscope of dreams
with rich colored imagery
hardened artisan seams
in a carefully woven motif
But something got lost in the needle point
something sinister and distorted took hold
the quirks and street genius
that were your lifeline
gave way to grunts
and squeals
and chilling night crawlers
the colors faded quickly
to a cold confining grey
There was no grace in the new world
no retribution or switch back
no salvation or accorded finale
only edged platforms of blackened steel
that kept you cased
in a silent vanquished cell
shivering cold with fear
night without day
all in the shadow of death
But time heals all
and the polish sneakers
and open sores are long gone
(though the roman nose and shallow cleft remain)
indeed the falconer beat the widow maker
this go around
and I’m hopeful it won’t happen again
and if it does you’ll see me
standing hand on heart
with that old verse in hand:
he ain’t tainted
or silly,
and most certainly
not forgotten…
he ain’t loony
or fixed,
or a product of his self-doing…
he’s just a straight shootin’ guy,
who had the most of it
figured out
Jan 29, 2017
Jan 29, 2017 at 8:38 PM UTC
I saw you one day and never thought a thing
As we grew 3 years, I noticed
My heart decided to thump faster
I smiled shyly at you and you smiled back
So I asked you a question, over a note
You broke my heart...You won't ever know
I cried when you left, clutching your answer in my arms
Sobbing for days, broken inside
Last day of school, you gave me a hug
High school began and I saw you again
My heart betrayed me, no matter how much I trained it not to
You smiled at me, and I grimaced back
I wanted to hate you, and I let you know
You talked to me, asking why?
I can't tell you, I might cry
I keep a straight face, a bravado to cover my feelings
Yet somehow, I wish you could see a ***** through my armor
I have a class with you
I stare at you, hoping you stare back
When you do, I sneer at you and glare
I confuse myself
I have feelings
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 2:41 PM UTC
Her nervous laugh
is the ***** of a champagne glass
he does not care she has no brains
he worries about his tie
asks her to confess
she never loved Tom
showing off his wealth
built on the sand grains
of dodgy business & deceit
& brick of bravado
a siren, she has called his heart
to sail to her across the years
all to end in a gunshot
by a pool
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 9:15 PM UTC
*I roar with a bravado
that echoes throughout
the deepest caverns
of brave souls
yet with every time
there lies a risk
of my own reverberations
shattering my heart
I am fragile glass
fashioned into
the fearsome form
of a lion
I have been chiseled at by
Father Time and Mother Earth,
carved away by my pains
and my worries.
I am no façade;
there is nothing ornate
about me designed to
hide something heinous
I can shatter
just as easily
as my mother’s
prized china set
But I roar on
even as I chip away;
my joints creaking
and my body scorched.
Do not mistake my
scratches and cracks
for weakness,
I have demons of my own.
I walk this ground
with the hope
that my roars,
in spite of my fragility,
will instill a sense of hope
into all of you
with glass hearts
such as mine.*
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 12:26 AM UTC
A simpler life
No more anger and strife
In the yard, in the sun
Spinning in gardening fun
A big floppy hat
Sunglasses acrobat
Crisp, refreshing mint juleps
When I finish planting these tulips
Owning a house is dream
A capitalist scheme
Millennial bravado
When you choose avocado
Feb 3, 2021
Feb 3, 2021 at 11:11 AM UTC
All of my life I dreamed of meeting one with immense beauty, and once
I found her I would charm her and she'd be mine forever
I have found her and indeed she is all
I wished for and more but she is
Not charmed nor intrigued
Then I think 2 myself
"What can I offer her?"
The tears warm my eyes and blur my
Vision
I stick 2 my stance of bravado
And give her the same uninterested look she gave me
She was so beautiful
But what can I offer her
Mar 26, 2018
Mar 26, 2018 at 12:39 PM UTC
the committee
has convened
(kangaroos corralled)
the agenda
is set
(scapegoats framed)
the politicos
are preened
(perfect patriots)
hair coiffed
teeth whitened
(fangs sharpened)
correct talking
points bulleted
(minds closed)
puffed chests
perfectly postured
(bombastic bravado)
freedom fighters
stand firm
(Constitution usurpers)
American flag
lapel pins
(sparkling bright)
liberty's spirit
and tolerance
(roundly condemned)
special interests
are watching
(payola earned)
partisan lines
clearly drawn
(democracy doomed)
Music Selection
Cream: Politician
Oakland
10/1/10
jbm
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 7:46 PM UTC
He struts through the street
With an arrogant stride
A staffy at his feet
Fills him with pride
Baseball cap on his head
Peak points in the air
Yea blood I'm hard
And I don't seem to care
Trackies and hoodies
Are the code of his dress
Big golden chains
Hang low on his chest
Sock's pulled up high
Above his designer boots
I'm a council house chav
So proud of me roots
I'm hard and I know it
And I'll rob ya of bread
Don't mess with me
Or you'll end up dead
His attitude stinks
Filth falls from his gob
With a chip on his shoulder
He don't want a job
But under the bravado
He's as quiet as a mouse
Living his life
From his council house
His mum is on drugs
His dad is long gone
No wonder this bloke
Turned out to be wrong
So show him some kindness
Just a friendly word
Might just be the the thing
That stops him doing bird
I somehow much doubt it
But its worth a try
Cause deep underneath
He's a friendly guy
Nov 3, 2010
Nov 3, 2010 at 3:16 AM UTC
Determined petals
Pierce the snow,
Refusing to wait.
Shades of violet,
Red, then yellow;
Mocking folded crepe paper,
On white marble floors
Advancing to overtake the scene;
An insurgent force,
So lithe, so pure.
Conquering in swaths,
With delicate bravado,
As if to challenge
The old mans icy grip,
While placating senses
Of the observant few;
Such a display
Of resistance,
To winter's rule
Now, slowly waning;
As the moments nigh,
But will return once again,
To defy a February's
Cruelty.
Feb 28, 2013
Feb 28, 2013 at 12:08 PM UTC
The Great Newfoundland novel (summation)
A young man brimming with
Townie **** and vinegar or
Bay boy brimming with obnoxious bravado
Eventually he leaves and discovers
How people treat fellow man
Seemingly beaten down
Genetic history Of Newfoundland Truck System
Alongside founders population variance,
Upward spike in heart disease, stroke, diabetes, cancers
Lurks engrained learned hopelessness
Smouldering in "Newfie" jokes
You'd better hope I let it slide
Unless you wanna find out
What a peat moss bog smells like
Or how it feels to freeze to death
Tied to a crucifix
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 9:10 PM UTC
Gorgeous blue skies
Disneyland magic
World of Color
Pacific cruisin'
Beverly Hills bravado
Venice Beach eccentrics
Celebrities' celestial abodes
California Screamin'
Yet it's for you I'm dreamin'
Jun 11, 2013
Jun 11, 2013 at 9:03 PM UTC
Shimmer and flow
Wood Lake at sunset seems to emit a soft glow.
Waves like edges move and dip
Feathering out, tumble and flip.
I hear the giggling of happy little girls
Dunking heads underwater and wetting their curls.
Scraggly young boys jump off a long pier
Showing their bravado that they have no fear.
Mallard ducks and tan little birds soar and float.
Passing patient people fishing off docks, or in a boat.
As I watch natures glory a gentle breeze caresses my sleeve.
I am at peace with myself with nothing to grieve.
I am very grateful for the time I spent here.
It gave me the chance to think with a mind that is crystal clear.
I was in my own world relaxing on my inflatable chair
With the sunshine as my companion floating here and there.
This quaint little lakehouse is a Godsend to friends
Who need some time to heal, make changes or amends.
The owners are loving in spirit, generous and kind.
They open their home as a haven for the heart, soul and mind.
Copyright *CindyRenouf @2010
www.stumbleupon.com/stumbler/Cindy1128
Jul 27, 2010
Jul 27, 2010 at 7:32 PM UTC
When my aching heart ached in excess,
I sought out to sleep, dream, escape.
I found myself in the land of the philosophers;
Greece.
But perhaps it looked nothing like Greece,
for I haven’t visited the country to ever know.
But upon its heavenly resemblance,
I was washed ashore.
I remember the sand as soft ivory,
dancing under my feet.
But pay no attention to the sand,
for something else had already caught me.
The sky.
God in disguise, I tell you.
Wrapped in the wildest hue of violet,
with the drape’s silky edges tucked into the horizon.
The color was deep and passionate in every way,
it intoxicated the evening with its romantic cologne.
And upon that sky,
lie God’s silver angels.
The stars constantly winked,
praising the earth,
in repetitive bangles.
But not alone.
The moon was its fullest on that night,
and so it wasted no time,
it beamed in bravado,
the strangest white.
I sat quietly,
listening to Greece sing its gentle yet enigmatic song,
silently wishing that this is no fantasy, and that I am not wrong.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 7:59 PM UTC
"I want to say something filled with so much truth that it will rattle your world. I want to say things like "you are more than enough" and "they define you by image, but the soul is a grander thing." I want to say "you will find love if you haven't already and if you have, love is forever." I want to tell you what you want to hear and what is easy to say but honestly, there is a wolf in me that no longer wants to tell you these things. He believes them to a certain point but he has learned to harden up, to remove any fearlessness and clothe himself with so much truth that God is no longer a word and science ceases to exist. The wolf wants to say "God ****** just be you and go get into trouble and be strange and different and loving and consume whatever makes you feel the most in that moment." He wants to say this because he knows it is what most people will do anyways and he also wants to do it himself, we grin at madness delivered to us in simple forms. Chaos so easy to obtain as if we were born with it in our mouths. I will not try to change you because change is inevitable but so too, is remaining the same. I cannot tell you what kind of person to be and I never will all I can hope is that you know and understand how ******* beautiful this earth is, this universe, and that you love whatever is around to love because love is felt in thousands of forms and I have this belief that if we all strive to feel it, no matter which form it is in, we will come to the flaming realization that we all come from the same dust and all other thoughts tossed out way in false bravado are irrelevant."
-Christopher Poindexter
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 1:56 AM UTC
Do you know what it means to have a moment encapsulated and remain enthralled with an utterance for what seems a century?
Or more?
It isn't your voice or your beleaguered indiscretion
it is not your rounded shoulders and body (language) speaking of consequential truths
its the way your words round my hard thoughts, softening and falling to slide off the firm curve of my breast.
Feeling each individual letter glide delightfully around my mouth
after being in yours
and I taste something new amid
a festival of enunciation.
There is false bravado in me and you
slip it off, along with my clothes.
I'm left naked and shy
almost hiding now, what I previously
wanted to share so much.
Almost, as your tender words guide an
embrace
I fall in love for the first time with a word
knowing you can only ever possess me physically.
Sep 20, 2010
Sep 20, 2010 at 8:17 PM UTC
The waves hold secrets
of fishermen's lives
fishermen's wives
buried at sea
sacrificed
giving life
to the ones they love
left on the shore, looking out
to an endless horizon
praying for God's mercy, love
safe return
for the fishermen
and the fisherman's friends
who left port
with bravado, confidence
they could conquer Neptune's wrath
sail between heaven and hell
bringing home the catch
from the depths
celebrate another day of life
snatched from the precipice
of a watery grave
Aug 4, 2019
Aug 4, 2019 at 7:58 AM UTC
**A breath before my next step
Actually no
I'm just going to take it
I will not think twice… or worry about whether or not I’ll make it
I'm just going to take it
A calculation before the next leap
Not necessary… I'll just charge with the blind bravado of fighting bull, as opposed to the clueless stupidity of a sheep
And yes, I realize that the blind can be clueless… and the brave can be stupid
But jumping into life is just like jumping into love and either being realistically passionate about it… or believing in Cupid… one of the two is just stupid
Just to clarify, if you actually believe in a chubby flying baby with a bow and arrow… dude?... Stupid!
Anyway, a thought before my next move
Ain't nobody got time for that!… while you're still thinking about it they will shove you out of the way all the while yelling “MOVE!”
You have the ability inside you
Subconsciously, but you can still feel it… it’s quite distinct
Don't overthink it, make the move out of pure instinct
If you can effortlessly do it… the better for you
On the other hand
If you are able to put in more effort, less doubt… allow the faith you have in yourself to stand out
Fill you up with confidence, then understand… it would be better for you
To just stand up, take that step… leap over that obstacle… and outsmart them on the next move, friend... just do it.**
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 3:05 AM UTC
a man gave me that phrase as a gift today.
quiver of constant smiles
for well he could,
yet little did he ken
the nature of the present
because
I read the smiles as the
tween the spaces,
in between the words of
anguish that never goes away
how can this be,
how to make sense of this
well I am a father too,
of words and sobs
and ownership of sins
between sons and fathers,
who inhabit
the unfilled spaces within,
the drawers with their name
on masking tape attached
Your fathers's hell will slowly go by
Show me a man-father
whose lips
have not quiet quivered
when hearing those words sung
we ease the grip of
carrying them on our shoulders
when they are five at the
Macy's day parade,
running alongside their first
solo bicycle ride
we ease the grip of
the vise of
not seeing them for years,
or never again,
cause they hold you guilty,
responsible for their confusion
have too, ease the grip,
cause we got more than one
singular responsibility
so we dad draw,
a smile from the quiver,
that like those of the elves,
replenished magically,
strap it on wide,
mile high and move on
oh you teenage children, you babies,
with your endless angst and bravado
of drunken scar talk,
first love lost
and the hard course
of being sixteen
put down your tiresome blunt pens
that revel only in Self-intensity glorious-galore,
read of the self destruction
of love pains thirty years in the making
and fifty in the undoing
write of ancient inescapable feelings
decades in the vat, aging, but drunk in the
moment quick searing of
every life breath you take
and it's Sunday nite
and the work week hell begins
but it is no compare to the other,
but **** you can't understand
so chant these words,
reflect on them well,
for soon while you dream sleep,
in clean, dry sheets and safe bed
a man will come for a peep,
to make the checkmark
on the all's well list
so chant these words,
a sad violin melody,
the single sole he ever hears,
*Your fathers's hell will slowly go by
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 11:13 PM UTC
**** You!
I'm tired of yo tendencies,
It's funny how quick-a-ly,
Ya best friend can become you're enemy,
I could only count on you for disappointment,
Drowning in your in your sorrows, hopin' I can make you buoyant,
With all the dudes that burned you I'm supposed to be ya ointment,
Dependent on me to be ya clairvoyant,
Help you with your problems the second, a text ends in a question,
And mine goes unreplied, every time, I'm neglected,
Then when I cut you out of my life, you contest it,
You're a self indulged user that's why I am steppin',
But I still got mixed feelins like a malloto,
I'll never let you know because of my bravado,
And the though of you got me chuggin' on Moscato,
'Till the bottle hollow,
And I forget ya name tomorrow,
Yet your attraction is an addiction I relapse in,
I'm conflicted 'cause this contradiction got me distracted,
Reminiscent on kissin' lips n satisfaction,
And then you flipped it like an improper fraction,
Oh, and ya know I hate math,
Delete ya out my fone like ***** ***** take that!"
Pretend ya someone I don't know like, "Chick stay back."
Feelins are like secrets so I keep 'em till my safe cracked,
And for you I opened up,
Tellin' each other things that are too deep to touch,
Don't know what I coulda done to keep you but,
If I ever see you, I'll run on pins and needles just,
To escape,
You're my problem so I get drunk to get away,
Then get high enough to look at you with disdain,
Knowin' no aquatic life can survive in your fish tank,
Playin' hopscotch with the line,
Between love and hate, I think I finally picked a side,
I said I'm playin' hopscotch with the line,
Between love and hate, I think I finally picked a side...
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 7:53 AM UTC
Two Hearts Beat as One
Undeniably magnificent
Open-heart despair
Tougher rhythm dominating bonded purpose
I Fall Down
Can't wait to get to Berlin
Short-sided bravado
Notably lacking comparison
The edge of nihilism
It's New Year's Day,
And Sunday ****** Sunday
Matured maverick solider
Exact achievements contrary to empathetic aspirants
Reunion in October
Temporarily divided by faith
Undeniable spiritual optimism
Victory, complete ardor
Promising and passionate
Rejoice in optimistic reunion
Two hearts beat out of control
Oct 13, 2012
Oct 13, 2012 at 3:54 AM UTC
I am the first to admit
I’m not God’s gift to women
It’s more like a penance when I’m involved really
And I am certainly a little rough around the edges
But there are certain things you can do
To make yourself more respectable to the fairer ***
Like: be wary of your weight and what suits
Don’t loaf onto a bus with your gut
Hanging out, wearing a stained Hawaiian t-shirt
Sweating like a hog in the midday sun.
I know ladies make allowances:
Ineptitude
Dickishness
Bravado
Rudeness
Even arrogance.
But even our fair compadres draw the line
At sheer disregard for personal hygiene.
I wonder what people think
When they go out dressed like that?
They’re either one of three things:
Very ignorant to what women want,
Femo-phobes,
Or they think they got something ******* special
No woman can resist.
May 31, 2012
May 31, 2012 at 11:08 AM UTC
Pretty
Pretty.
What does it mean to her?
Since the beginning time, she was always told she was pretty,
But at one point that little girl began to question
If what she was told was a lie.
Everybody seemed pretty,
But her.
She was no longer the “You should sign her up for modeling” girl.
She became “Oh, she’s ….. tall”
Or “Wow, you’re big! Oh I mean big for your age.”
When the “pretty” faded, so did her spirit.
The omnipresent smile was gone,
As well as her joy.
She became her mother’s nightmare
Moody,
Sensitive,
Irritable,
Argumentative.
She covered up her self-destructive insecurities with faux confidence and
“No really, I’m fine”
Just as if one covers up their unsightliness
With aggrandize grand eyes, cheeks and lips
No one ever knew that underneath all the bravado
There was still a little girl,
Who seemed grown physically and sometimes mentally,
Longing for someone to tell her she’s pretty.
Incorrect.
This little girl was waiting to tell herself she was pretty
And believe it.
May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 12:40 PM UTC
I couldn’t sleep. I was lying in bed watching the patterns reflected moonlight made on my ceiling when I heard the faint beep of the kitchen microwave. I smelled popcorn.
I decided to fill up my water bottle and see who was up. I slipped on a thick, terrycloth robe I’d gotten from Lisa last Christmas. It must weigh 15 pounds and it’s so warm and heavy I seldom wear it.
I silently glided into the main room. Leong was standing at one of our two large picture windows staring out at the night. Her left arm cradling a bowl of ultimate-butter popcorn. Anna told me last night that Leong and her long-time boyfriend, who’s back in China, had broken up. They’d been together forever and had been expected to marry.
A bright half-moon was hanging high over campus, an electric ornament on a velvet background, its moonlight glint painted the world, like ice on mountaintops.
“I heard about your breakup,” I said, “what does it mean?” In Leong’s world, who you dated was of family interest. That person had to be approved, their bona fides proven - they had to fit into some long term plan.
“It means I can’t be tamed,” she said, with soft bravado. After a moment, she spoke again, more seriously. “It’s better this way - for now - someday..,” she trailed off.
I understood. All of our hopes are resting on someday, like so many wagers at a casino. I imagined some gambler, stepping up to a betting window, in an old black-and-white movie, saying, ”Gimmie 5 bucks on Someday to win.”
Something in her voice, a brittleness, precluded further questions. I looked at the clock, it read 3:47. I gave her a hug and yawning, filled up my water bottle from the refrigerator's filtered tap.
“See ya.” I whispered and headed off, back to bed. With any luck I could squeeze another hour's sleep out of the morning.
Feb 3, 2022
Feb 3, 2022 at 5:04 AM UTC