"brillance" poems
From afar I admire you
your beauty and your grace
the way you push hair behidn your ear that has fallen to your face
your brillance..you're o so intelligent
the way you speak in class
so bold and without fear
the sparkle for learning in your eyes
that look so pure and clear
All of these things, only perceived by me from afar
I wish to know yout thoughts
likes, dislikes, and hobbies
your opinion on politics
Do you about the trees?
What is your faith?
Do you have pets?
Your favorite book, movie, food.
What is it that you are passionate about?
My dear Brazil
I want to talk to you
To obtain all the answer to every question I wish to ask you
This morning in the rain you were only a few feet away
all alone were you
But my feet, they would not move
So I did not go to you
Instead I watched my Beautiful Brazil place her earphones in her ear
We could have talked and laughed
But we didn't cause I am ruled by fear
Alas, My Beautiful Brazil
I am not your average admirer
No, not at all
But until I gather up the courage
The strength to loose my fear
I'll admire you from afar
My Beautiful Brazil
Aug 10, 2012
Aug 10, 2012 at 12:45 PM UTC
Soft sweet meadow
radiating its breath of life;
sounding its serenity
in echoes of the mind's eye
Living in this flat land
lay plush
in wild, multicolored-flowery-pockets in greenery
blankets "Sweet Meadow" with fresh quickened
fragrance
And by our bedroom window
with a summer night's soft evening breeze
mellow cheeeping can be heard from way way down below
seemingly luring us to...
.. "OPEN WIDER THE WINDOW...
...AND LISTEN!!
Chant dear chorus
as violinist in "Cricket Suits"
join this cantor
that swings with rhythm
with wheezing sounding bugs, AH HUMMING!!
and an intermission of
Cha Cheep, Cha Cheep
that breaks the nocturnal entomological singing
with ephemeral intermissions
Be bewitched by brillance as
tunes fly and z i n g
their little
whistle
songs so sweet a talent
unseen
little bugs sweetly sing
their little
tale of talent
in "Soft Sweet Meadow"
Comforted by vibrating frequencies
the air is electrical clasping
our good-inner child
as this meadow
unfolds its truth
being beneficial
to us all
We journey not too far
for this field draws us
to its delightful *****
We irresistibly suckle on its daytime scenic eye-filling foliage
later eliciting dreams made of peaceful slumber
Cha Cheep, Cha Cheep and good night...
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 10:29 AM UTC
As a delicate flower,
you bring beauty to a barren garden
with your wondrous smile.
Despite the harsh winds of Life,
you are firmly planted in God's hands
and stand upright in strength.
Your tenderness will always be evident;
avoid those who would look
to trample you under foot.
Let Jehovah's spiritual principles
blossom fully in your life -
Be a blessing to others
and reflect the brillance of His Light.
Author's Note:
This piece was written for a contest, sponsored on the behalf of Uguandan orphans. Many children have lost their parents to the HIV/AIDS virus, including Violet. This particular event was partnered with showmercy.org to get personalized poems, a blanket and a stuffed animal to each child in need. We are all God's children; please visit showmercy.org and show some love.
Aug 9, 2012
Aug 9, 2012 at 6:57 AM UTC
So I took her to the river
believing she was a maiden,
but she already had a husband.
It was on St. James night
and almost as if I was obliged to.
The lanterns went out
and the crickets lightened up.
In the farthest street corners
I touched her sleeping *******
and they opened to me suddenly
like spikes of hyacinth.
The starch of her petticoat
sounded in my ears
like a piece of silk
rent by ten knives.
Without silver light on their foilage
the trees had grown larger
and a horizon of dogs
barked very far from the river.
Past the blackberries,
the reeds and the hawthorne
underneath her cluster of hair
I made a hollow in the earth
I took off my tie,
she too off her dress.
I, my belt with the revolver.
She, her four bodices.
Nor nard nor mother-o-pearl
have skin so fine,
nor does glass with silver
shine with such brillance.
Her thighs slipped away from me
like startled fish,
half full of fire,
half full of cold.
That night I ran
on the best of roads
mounted on a nacre mare
without bridle stirrups.
As a man, I won't repeat
the tings she said to me.
The light of understanding
has made me more discreet.
Smeared with sand and kisses
I took her away from the river.
The sowrds of the liles
battled with the air.
I behaved like what I am,
like a proper gypsy.
I gave her a large sewing basket,
of straw-colored satin,
but I did not fall in love
for although she had a husband
she told me she as a maiden
when I took her to the river.
2.2k
The words have gone—
Fleeing like refugees from a war-torn mind,
Like stars receding from the quickly rising sun.
A pen weighs heavily between my fingers—
Burdened, full with the ink of words unsaid.
White paper shouts—accusing, judging
With its brillance—a vast, vacant space.
Pressure builds—
The desire to create, to share...
The restless tapping of my pen
Mimicks the anxious rhythm of my shoe.
Jul 18, 2011
Jul 18, 2011 at 8:21 PM UTC
Were all crazy the dreamers the broken like children left
behind sad eyes are but windows cast in pain.
that hurt we share as some will hide it away.
Ive taken the matter in deep thoughts and echos of brillance.
Only to see it die as a spark from cold winters fire.
Alone you here the sadness in the most gentle key.
As it wispers for the broken.
Down alleys side streets to lonley old souls
who yern just for someone to speak with to share but
are met with only rejection left to count the hours.
The clocks rythm taps slowey asking the emptyness to
waste in thought only to bask in dellusion.
Like a snow globe were caught in a vortex of a isolated storm.
Yerning for a release the bed is a coffin frozen are the covers
as the thought lingers if only it had gone another way.
But dreamers are gamblers and in the warmth of good hand theres always a lonley heart that had to fold.
The man in the street looks to other as others look through him.
Afraid the curse may catch but in his eye's i see myself.
And in myself I see a victem of another bad hand.
Alone I know you in that place few will dare to search.
The cavern of thought is but my asylum of emptyness
And the clock's rythm keeps time in the key of night.
Nov 15, 2010
Nov 15, 2010 at 9:31 PM UTC
Petit à petit,
je rentre
dans mon cercueil en fer.
Essoufflée,
à bout de larmes,
épuisée par l'attente,
ce souhait impossible
de le voir
en courant
pour me retrouver,
je chavire
en rêvant
de son sourire.
A bout de larmes,
étourdie
par cette peine aiguillée,
je bégaie,
sûre que mes mots
ne servent plus à rien.
Je rentre dans mon cercueil,
tout en disposant du barbelé
autour.
Et je ne regrette que
cette brillance
dans mon coeur,
son sourire,
qui est venu
sans que je ne l'attende
me rendre amoureuse
à jamais.
~~~~~~~
ON THE EDGE OF TEARS
Little by little,
I go back
into my iron box.
Breathless,
on the edge of tears,
torned by the waiting,
this impossible wish
to see him
running
to meet me,
I sink
dreaming
of his smile.
On the edge of tears,
dizzy
by this stinging pain,
I stutter,
certain that my words
are no longer meaningful.
I go back
into my iron box,
barbwiring
all around.
And all I will miss
is that glow
in my heart,
his smile,
that came unexpectedly
making me fall
forever in love.
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 8:52 PM UTC
A toy castle shines with brillance
When you're on the outside looking in
But if you'd take a closer look -
You'd see it's not
True within
While the outside shines with beauty
Fake porcelain and gold
Take a look!
Then you'd see
Fake beauty it beholds
-b.m
Jan 27, 2017
Jan 27, 2017 at 9:29 AM UTC
Pastors clergies reverends to deacons
Aint nothing but demons leechin
Off false preachin made up teachin'
Say its God but steadily reachin'
Takin all of your loot
For the love of the root
Only to go home broke
Yoked as a joke i pop smoke
Nothing but wolves in sheeps clothes
I expose evilness in the gospels
Using divine principles
As a profit false prophets
Using the holy name in vain
Mentally drained linked by a chain
Straddlin' the fench feet lynched
Cant stand if ya stuck to the bench
They call me a grinch
Cuz my money aint spent
Never gone repent to these devils
Thats hell sent
In the form of angelic scents
Enticin' people through embezzlement
For a ritual settlement moved by an embodiment
Can't pay bills or rent
Cuz they church got the windows tint
So miracles can perform
Then say blessings were sent
From up above but aint no love
Since hell is on earth here
One third to be exact
Now lets subtract
Fake people layin' financial testimonies
Phonies its all bologna
Lies told right in front of your eyes
Serpents guised as the wise
Gentle as a dove pushin hope and love
Off false faith they say im late
But im on time killin the vibe
Once my spirit arrives thrive
Cuz my potency is strong
So must cant hold on
Still singing slavery songs
Like we shall overcome
**** the drums i drop the guns
And let the ammo
Rip through they torso to spinal
And i laugh gracefully as the rest in peace
**** the church hypocrisy
I know ya hate me
But im layin' vengeance with my brillance
Coming back for the sons of Satans
I aint hesitatin'
Apr 3, 2017
Apr 3, 2017 at 3:42 AM UTC
The dust in kicking up, windy night in New Mexico
Watching the moon rise up over cactus & canals
Listening to rocks become pebbles
Filling our stomachs with cold water
Under the blanket you wove for me, the one
we slept in
On that cold October night, when we thought the
sun would never rise
And when it did, it shone with such brillance
Stuck our hands out, between the cracks, just
to catch its radiance
To stop the shaking, it set me on edge
Made me want to run, just to feel myself sweat
But I'd just fall facedown in the snow
Lost in a canyon, full of black rocks,
dead trees
And a silence we forgot existed
May 14, 2011
May 14, 2011 at 9:48 PM UTC
disparate thoughts
clash
with butterfly brillance
resulting in
neonic cymbal synapsual
clarity
reverberating
reverberating
reverberating
in my brain
the outcome
this inkstain
Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 7:32 AM UTC
over night
an old world slips
into the reccesses,
the shadows of the mind.
and a new,
regenerate one,
begins....
with fairground brillance
it calls to us to...
climb aboard the carousel
and grasp,
the golden ring...
all stardust and spangles,
acrobatic feats in...
big clown shoes.
if brave enough,
a chance to smell,
the breath of a toothless roaring lion....
from inside the magicians
spell...
outside....
in lambent glow,
the elephants, sway slow and remember the dying of the night...
as the years parade by in a circadian flow....
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 7:51 PM UTC
humans are faithfully committed to deception
they vanish emotionally because they want you to be overwhelmed by their brillance rather than their mudane lives and their annoying lies
Oct 9, 2016
Oct 9, 2016 at 2:35 PM UTC
i wish you could see the cosmos.
the celestial body shines. shines. shines.
your lips pour luminescence.
your fingerprints stain.
floating. floating somewhere else.
in another time.
the clouds rest, the moon hums another tune.
its brillance is nowhere as close to yours.
eyelashes dusty, sleep creeps in the cracks.
tonight. tonight. tonight.
another night where this world is full of beauty,
where our sparks outshine every city light,
where our quivers out shake any earthquake.
this is our world. tonight.
heaven. no, better, because all i taste
when i lick your lips is pure sugar.
the moon keeps humming, and i fall asleep
with you entangled in my veins.
and i smile.
smile.
Jun 21, 2012
Jun 21, 2012 at 1:59 PM UTC
What are you? Wooden home that breathes. I understand what you say, when you tell me Samantha, this phase. But can you see this Truth? When you lay your head down to rest, to escape the agony of being but you're staring at me. Your steady, fixed eyes; yes, I can feel you. Please, you make me nervous when you look at me with those exploding stars, even hidden under that baseball cap. The manic mind and those eyes wide open. Your lips sounding out I Love You from the other side of the dark and I see all the way down. You. Nurturing little wild boy. Loving me better than I love myself. My mirror, you love me better than I love myself. You angel from above, whose re-met me in each new life. You save me. Your peace and your honey, I know why he loves you. I could never lie to you. Not even through the radio signals that hide your face. But I've seen it age, and I have seen the brillance. No going back, time slips in the aftermath of drug crossed wires. I've seen a place that exists.
Aug 22, 2012
Aug 22, 2012 at 9:16 PM UTC
I have learned that the best way to avoid punishment is to break
yourself.
Snap yourself fast, when the cops get to the scene you already
have given yourself a ****** nose,
justice never goes overboard and given how much punishment
you need you can change it.
Internal bleeding is impossible to measure.
No bull crap it needs to hurt.
When they leave you know exactly where the pieces are and put them back
no issues.
It takes the sting out of a shot to give it where ever you like.
I can’t tell if it’s because I broke myself so many times or
because I have sold myself or because I know my weak spots,
the pain shoots straight into my veins.
I’m no glass soldier.
If needed I could do combat with the greatest gods,
I have already seen the surface of the sun, surfed on a cloud
above the tallest mountain, been messaged by Jesus in a steam-bath
had the president treat me as equal all without earning half of it,
yet I did some kick-ass ****
How much of what I did is only because of what came before me?
I would not have seen the things I have seen without my teachers
and saints. How much of a race is getting you to the line in
near flawless conditions?
Is the reason why my parents considering divorce doesn’t bother me
because— I or my parents or whatever combo have made me have a
bullet proof form or because I have never lost big enough to get scared?
Is the reason why I’m not scared because I have taken heavy punishment or nowhere
near enough or because punishment has always been a hit and run?
I often too modest often fake modest often genuine
do you know how hard it is to be tell your own authenticy —
even in that question— when you know at once of your
brillance and that you lost your social security card at first chance?
Perhaps I’m just a tad dramatic, forgive me but I feel this all
I apolgize.
Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 1:10 AM UTC
The angel desended from the heavens falling hard and fast
In a blink of an eye she has landed
broken and bleeding
a world without dreaming
She is no longer dressed in the brillance of light
Nor is she donning the pitch black of darkness
The inbetween worldly color of a sullen gray
Is there still hope?
What can protect her
from this cataclysmic world?
What would cause her
to fall?
Only those that believe flock to her side
some in hopes of healing
some in hopes of believing
some in hopes of madness
People screaming, laughing, dying
tearing themselves apart
almost like a bleeding artwork
blood splattering everywhere
The angel cries
she didnt mean to fall from His grace
she only wanted to help
the human race
too late now it seems
too far gone
too long corrupted
by meaningless and wicked ways
only a small few can be saved
for they know the lesson in pain
not the pain as you may think
but as the sorrow, not knowing of tomorrow
Only hope can save them now
perhaps there still is some
children of today
forced to rebuild for tomorrow
as it forever goes
corruption grows
as the generations continue
tomorrow we may never know
The angel gathers those close by
sings to them
kisses them goodbye
she had seen enough to know the truth
the world is what we make of it
which isnt simple but its true
we have the power to change it
to make it right
The angel's wings are healed
she waves to all
knowing she will one day
see some again
Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 11:15 PM UTC
Lying beneath the willow tree
Watching the clouds dancing above
The feeling of the soft grass tickling my skin
The breeze blowing through my hair
The golden sun is setting
Bringing out the brillance of colors
As day turns to night in the exchange
The nightingale sings
The sky opens up
The clouds dancing away
Revealing the brightness of the diamonds
And the soft glow of the moon
The air is cool and the fragrance of flowers fill it
I wrap myself in the soft comfort of the throw
My eyes drink in the beauty of night
Basking in its faint glow
Close you eyes for just a moment
Make a wish on the first star
Your deepest desires
Begging to come true
Now is the time that I must retire
Blow kisses to my night
I will return tomorrow
Good day to my night
Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 11:19 PM UTC
We can't say these things right now,
But what I want you to know is I never forgot how
You evoked brillance inside my heart
Took an ***** so broken, taught it to be real smart.
It still loves, even after all that.
With me here, and you where you're at.
Nostalgia
To be your dahlia.
Woe is no longer me
Though I do worry if we can just be?
I once wrote I was shipwrecked, though I had no clue.
The depths I would rise from, like the Titanic, shiny and new.
I just don't know if we're something I can do.
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 4:28 PM UTC
24,720,437.
(give or take a few)
minutes in my life.
the number is profound,
but it's not that easy
to break a life down.
i'm sure there's a calculation, that covers the basics bits work, eating, sleeping, abultions.
but, to bring the moments
to the minutes,
thats a vastly different thing.
how do you count the moments of brillance
that burn bright,
on the horizon beyond and before.
those moments of pure kindness,
or blind and ****** ignorance
that elicit change.
the joy of the moment,
the rage of a second,
the hours borrowed
in worry never
yet to be repaid.
how many minutes
wasted or not fully tasted, devoured to quickly.
those seconds we fumble,
in awkward silences
or those we waste
wanting more.
then the hours of breast beating or simply bleating
are they lesser in importance,
than, the days
lost in thought,
or in grief,
time spent,
begging for relief
from a heart so, so, sore.
remember the weeks
we sent packing,
the fox or the bear,
or the lion and the tiger from fear's flimsy, fragile door.
months of not belonging, then, the longing
and finally the lounging
and laughing,
when tickled to our core.
the tock of the clock
when we are too cold,
or too hot or just not...
quite right.
time that keeps ticking, while,
we are sticking our noses where they are not wanted.
time spent watching
from afar,
minutes of small talk,
hours of deep and meaningful,
days of young love,
months of expectancy,
years of togetherness, decades of love.
a delineation of seperateness,
eons, immemorial
of eternity.
these are the times,
of my minutes,
my moments of grace,
i want these,
ciphered into,
the fabric of time.
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 3:55 PM UTC
Encased in its beauty
Calmed by its warmth
Fueled by its passion
Let its insatiable will consume me
For I was but an ember, but the fires of thy love have awakened every fiber in my being
Now i live once again! Rescued from the dark asylum; released from a hollowed prison into your hallowed ***** by thy cleansing justice
You have filled this empty vessel with something not even love can express
flooded it with truth that can withstand any false attack!
And with that may the armour that you have gifted me reflect the brillance of your unbrideled love forever
Unwavering; Bound by your Flame
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 10:09 PM UTC
it was a blood vessel,
within the brain.
that gave out....
too much thinking.
no, more likely to be,
a genetic imperfection.
undectected until now.
the brain, became flooded
and succumbed...
it was mostly painless,
if confusing...
synapses firing,
one last time.
a fireworks moment,
of
absolute brillance.
of
knowing all questions
and answers.
of
rememberance sublime.
and
then the quieting
of the soul.
the folding of the deckchair,
the closing of the book,
receding steps...
some bars,
of classical music.
the light,
being switched off.
and
the closing
of the door..
all that is left .... is darkness
and the sound of distant...
...weeping
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 7:50 PM UTC
I see you
I see your need for
connection
love
I see your brillance
I enjoy your humor
I love your presence
I am grateful for your protection
your form of affection
that shifts into
defiance and rebellion
when your'e not
recieved
valued
listened to
appreciated
I see you
it makes me unhappy
my world is dim
when your are
oppressed
depressed
stressed
with cuts and bruises on your hands
and a world on your shoulders
that is becoming out of control
everyday by gross darkness
only you to carry the blame
shame
truth is
the destruction was here
before we both were created
I will say
Our world
would be obsolete
totally incomplete
without you.
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 9:26 AM UTC
about my childhood
and left me naked on my bed
twitter won't stop me from this pain
Mortal Kombat doesn't feel the same
my youth, my eyes, my thoughts, my dreams, and my ******* brain
tell me how can one man stay sane?
When they swallowed their imagination
for corporation money
and left us with a staggering minds of a sheep
and a soul that doesn't bleed
thoughts spilled out of my memories
my soul left for dead for centuries
gave myself a long nap
questioning my existence formed gap
wake up wake up wake up
I don't blame myself for my sad existence
beyond the ageing testimony between my childhood and my grave
but yes i buried my youth under the stars
it faded and disappeared with the birds and the flowers of our time
left it in an early morning cartoon show
cat n mouse
pathetic brillance
roller blades and computer rooms
nostalgic backdrop inside my head
crumpled beneath the nights and the sunrise
what a sad way to die?
fap, fap, fap
truth.
social reality-- numbness boyhood dreams
beyond the lost souls dreaming for the highest beam
lost and found? no
life goes on
Mar 24, 2017
Mar 24, 2017 at 11:16 AM UTC