"bronzing" poems
Brown maple sugar,
Cinnamon toast complexion.
Hershey chocolate chip.
Carmel Hazel brown eyes,
Red sugarcane lips.
Your curvy curvaceous thighs.
With enough melanin color blended so perfectly together, bronzing the brownish shade of your muscles.
Natural ethnic hair.
Thick, coarse or silky.
It is perfectly acceptable by me.
***** so big it needs to have its own legs to stand on.
Your blackness is ****
And it **** sure is beatiful.
Jan 12, 2016
Jan 12, 2016 at 10:22 PM UTC
I am a person of colour
Whose simple presence can cause outrage
they use their tongues as swords
and slay me with slurs
Whilst there are others who pretend to be my ally
but I can see their disgust in their eyes
their uneasiness in their smile
I am a person of colour
Whose beautiful traditional garments are cherry-picked
and woven into a disgusting replica
brandished on “Designer labels”
and mocked as exotic
I am a person of colour
Whose skin is secretly envied by them
they exhaust their expenses on tanning salons
and “bronzing” creams
Yet simultaneously they spit on my “darkness”
and promote their products with the so-called beauty of “lightness”
I am a person of colour
I shall not hide my anger at their ignorance
I shall wear my skin with pride
Because being a person of colour
No matter what I do or how I conform
They will never be satisfied
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 6:43 PM UTC
I love the colors on you,
The beautiful blue in your eyes,
To the purples on your knee,
The brown dirt on your left hand from this afternoon gardening with me,
Just because i begged you to,
The pink in your cheeks that i love so much,
You get so flustered at the smallest things,
I love the brown of your hair that changes direction with the wind,
The summer bronzing of your skin,
Colors i cant describe,
You give me a new color everyday,
But i am so glad theres one color i never see,
and thats gray.
JD (1:58)
Aug 9, 2014
Aug 9, 2014 at 11:04 PM UTC
The screen is a madhouse
of body-building, ego-boosting,
and bad gig recordings.
I see her bronzing in the beach,
applying lotion and laughing
with a new friend.
I'm still stuck in the snow,
watching her skirt in the breeze.
I chain coffee in the morning
to counter sobriety,
to show that I know her more
than just by the light of the moon.
In sunglasses, we'll meet somewhere
neutral; an escape route to run
if the patient becomes lunatic again.
She'll administer the pill
from her pockets to ensure I'll flat-line
through her absences,
and then resurrect when she's lost her
appetite. Far away from this
selfish depression, I dream
of us painting a wall. Nothing dies
when it is made into memory;
nothing lives without your early morning call.
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 8:55 PM UTC
My Beloved,
Let's meet in meadows of yellow shiny buttercups,
dandelions,daises,lilacs and coloured butterflies,
Let's run till dusk in threaded fields of hundred golden wheats,
lay down under the little lantern light of million fire flies.
Let's hold hands and walk in parks,sit on a wooden bench,
and make a rainbow wish upon the destined shooting stars,
Let's dance cheek to cheek,bathe naked beneath water falls,
and watch enchanting faries use their magic glittered wands,
As feathered silk white swans pirhouette in sparkling streams,
as we get lost in secret casting spells of everlasting melodies.
Let's wake up to the music of a golden harped string fire ball,
warming our blue skies ,with every early rooster's dawn.
Lets run to open fields,to the shade of old mulberry trees,
Make a picnic on a carpet made of crispy bronzing leaves,
share a velvet peach,and eat pulped ripe strawberries,
taste red satin cherries, as woodpeckers drum their beats.
Let's write the sweetest verse and many loving words,
listen to the sound of waltzing crickets and chirping little birds.
and when the sun go sleeping,the crescent moon starts peeping,
in the ebony black sky,Its then we realise there are billion miles
of distance between the 'You and 'i',It is there I find your heart,
as your heart searches for mine,in the place of never ending time.
It is our special place,where whispered thoughts join in one space,
where my blood pumps your ardent name, deeply in my veins.
It is the cherished place, where we travel, in many many ways,
It is the place we live and love as one,yet not seeing face to face.
Nov 22, 2010
Nov 22, 2010 at 4:34 AM UTC
.
Midday sweeps in
a bronzing fury,
prickling its way
through skin,
pierces the core
to bleed
then, drenched
in affectation,
I turn away
to rest.
I will swathe
some lotion after,
for the scent
of longingness
follows.
A bath awaits.
May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 11:54 PM UTC
Zoom me in Mister Rock
the seize is here
Who cares about that ****** ?
The Cirrus clouds falter
when the ozones hots up there,
good here, Jessica's bronzing
by the shadow of the Martello Tower
feeding scraps to Koi Fish
who have enough love.
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 5:59 PM UTC
I.
brewing and brawling, bronzing
she cries
the mighty blue-tailed
golden hawk of the skies
she screeches and crones
for the souls in her bones
that she hides away
bides away, flies away, souls.
souls she collects,
to tinker and check
to see if their wailing is loud-
loud as it goes
proud as it goes
an ego as big as is tall:
a square of dementia
and a sprinkle of manic
lead you to think she is largely just panic
frantic and tied
the souls she must hide,
to tide away, bind away,
find a way free -
free from the earth,
its land and its girth,
free from the sea,
its waters and needs,
free from the fire,
burning desire,
loosed to the air,
its wings without care
fighting and lighting
the sky in her path
the soul-binding hawk
slowly wanders back
II.
one by one
faintly they come
daintily and faintly
quaintly, they come;
the souls, how they tremble,
quiver and weep
through the slightest of all tiniest cracks do they creep
whining, entwining, smiling they float
burning passion and love,
all on one music note:
dripping and dropping
they dangle and sway
floating, just floating, ever slightly away
III.
souls having *** and souls bemoaning love
wailing and flailing, as soft as a dove;
perfect, he says, are the shape of your *******
lovely, she responds, i'm sick of taking tests -
no one will know, they like to pretend,
but obvious was their means to an end;
switching and curling, lipping they smack
the man over the head, whose head is on crack
and sad they all are, demented instead,
inside of their heads they are missing a *****
brightly, tightly, they hold on to their due
Aug 1, 2012
Aug 1, 2012 at 8:14 PM UTC
white sand
flecked with
blackend seaweed
occasionally
a smooth tumbled pebble
the smell of salt
and iodine
water, whitecapped
as far as the horizon
and beyond
and heat clear crisp heat
drawing and drying sweat
on bodies bronzing
seagulls squabbling
over chips thrown
to a zephyr breeze
and the sound of sea
making love to sand
sealife, in australia
Jan 31, 2017
Jan 31, 2017 at 6:10 PM UTC
The heat outside must be a result of the
General increase in emotion that sometimes
Follows summer, top down and
Music eased up and maxed
Out among the sunglassed groups
Flipflop tans and cool lake water
Rubbing on bronzing lotion that
Allegedly prevents tanning
Today is a day, is the day
For adventure and discovery
All to ever want a cove in which
To waste away each and every hour
Drink plenty of water, make
Plenty of love and you'll be
Alright my friend, alright
There's always the lemonade if
Heat should assume the role of an adversary
Sparring on the green grass
What better way to live?
And where are you, to wonder
I'll play louder for you
May 12, 2011
May 12, 2011 at 5:37 PM UTC
A pedestal is no place for a friend
tough to reach them should you need a sympathetic embrace.
Nor should monuments be built
for then the pressure's on them to fulfill the grandeur.
Bronzing is a no,
smelting makes it hard to impart advice.
Just keep your friends close,
that is the ultimate honor.
Sep 25, 2011
Sep 25, 2011 at 3:50 PM UTC
“Ah Palinurus, you were too trustful of the calm sky and the sea.
So you will lie, a shroudless form on an unknown strand”
The streetlights dawn at dusk
like imitations of the sun.
And the perfect flowers of the
perfect garden fronts enclose
and curl their eyes within.
And we close.
The twilight tears of night surround
the somber sights and sullen sounds.
The single hearse goes by, goes by
blackened by the starless sky.
As watchers watch with their dark eyes
not afraid to cry
and we wonder why
the earth is in rotation
but there is no
revolution.
Oh the dive and the descent…
for the waterless, washed out years spent
on nothing, shedding petals like flowers
on the dirt
are nothing
but straight lines on refill pad.
So, I’m sorry to all of you
But I would rather bathe in the sun-sewn air
streaming through the bronzing leaves
than breathe the air
of your sordid torn tomb
where your heart aches
like a desolate sun
in the dry, withered realm
of reason.
Now the road is vacant
and they have nothing to see,
so the docile dozens on the street
with their frameless figures there
stand and stare, unaware
that the heart is a shape
and the soul is the sky...
so today we fly.
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 8:23 PM UTC
Her smile.
It was the petrichor on days when
the sky just decided to cry.
Her smile.
It was the roots of a tree,
my tree,
keeping me planted in reality and letting me dream
of better things way up in the clouds.
Her smile.
Her smile was the sun ray warm glow;
bronzing my skin and heating within
that frozen fickle muscle I called a heart.
Her smile.
It drove me wild.
So certifiably insane the way I could rack my brain for hours
to come up with just the right joke,
so as to paint her smile upon celestial canvas face
the rest of the day,
not having to worry that its daily appearance
was stolen by some cheap movie line.
Her smile
was the only thing in life I was afraid of losing.
Dec 26, 2013
Dec 26, 2013 at 5:09 PM UTC
I sit upon the ocean
and the waves they comfort me
the salty air in my lungs
and the sun bronzing my skin
I look deep into the water
and wonder
would anyone notice
if I slipped silently into the blue
and became a mermaid
swimming fiercely into the tides
my long golden hair fastened with
seashells of abalone
my naked chest adorned with sea emeralds
and white pearls around my throat
I would sit upon the largest rock
and sing until all the men were mine....
Sep 27, 2016
Sep 27, 2016 at 9:54 PM UTC
The summer leaves
As autumn leaves
Begin their bronzing change,
And the midday sun
Has now begun
To exit this once idyllic stage.
The quiet mornings
Crowded only with buntings
Become louder and more coarse,
As bescarfed children
who were once at play
Commence their scholarly chores.
And so the memories
Gained during warm days
Fade into a sepia hue,
But what remains
In the shortening days
Is that darling, I love you.
Aug 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015 at 7:13 PM UTC
Detailing leaves of golden spiff
I lean up close to take a whiff
of turmeric colored leaves sublime
and skies of ruby reds sweet wine
Engaged upon the breeze my touch
awaits the pinnacle's non such;
Sharing space with a painters brush
I sketch a new horizon's rush
on a canvass ****** without blotch
envisioned scenes of yellow scotch
while up above the skylark soars
on sweet November's wing adore
Inhaling salt and sea I breathe
the very things of me that seethe
embroiled in art to hearts content
I hear falls bitter sweet lament
she doesn't want to touch the snow,
nor lose her natural bronzing glow.
Nov 26, 2020
Nov 26, 2020 at 6:59 PM UTC
*Every lounger taken
buckets spades and boards
families doing what families do
on sandy beaches in their hoards,
lashing on the lotion
for protection from the sun
lunches in the chiringuitos
a respite from the fun,
then it´s back to cheering, laughing, screaming,
bats and ***** and floats
splashing in the breaking waves
with plastic rings and rubber boats,
but now the shadows lengthen
the burning sun sinks to the sea
everyone is packing up
and heading back for tea,
the sunset shining glorious
the beach lit up with amber glow
saffron skies as the evening tires
and the pace begins to slow,
the beach is now deserted
as I stroll along the shore
beneath my feet the cooling sand
to my left the oceans roar,
a silver moon lights up the sky
and shines a path across the sea
a tranquil way to close the day
just a summer breeze and me,
come the morn it´s back to the norm
for the holidaying hoards
some lying bronzing in the sun
others surfing multi coloured boards,
every lounger will be taken
as another day unfolds
tomorrow on their flights back home
their holidaying stories will be told*.
Note : Chiringuito = Beach Bar/Restaurant.
Oct 10, 2016
Oct 10, 2016 at 9:25 AM UTC
Stepped into the garden
My eyes filled with light
A tree in the distance,
filled my sight
Covered in gold
Amber was bold
Brown blended in
Nature is at work
Let it begin
© 2021 Carol Natasha Diviney
Sep 16, 2021
Sep 16, 2021 at 4:29 AM UTC