"captious" poems
"Are you mad at me?"
"I wouldn't say 'mad.'"
I'd say
captious
petulant
furious
acrimonious
irritable
querulous
sour
acerbic
peevish
ornery
livid
vicious.
No, of course I'm not mad at you.
Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 7:40 PM UTC
Why, Pigot, complain
Of this damsel’s disdain,
Why thus in despair do you fret?
For months you may try,
Yet, believe me, a sigh
Will never obtain a coquette.
Would you teach her to love?
For a time seem to rove;
At first she may frown in a pet;
But leave her awhile,
She shortly will smile,
And then you may kiss your coquette.
For such are the airs
Of these fanciful fairs,
They think all our homage a debt:
Yet a partial neglect
Soon takes an effect,
And humbles the proudest coquette.
Dissemble your pain,
And lengthen your chain,
And seem her hauteur to regret;
If again you shall sigh,
She no more will deny,
That yours is the rosy coquette.
If still, from false pride,
Your pangs she deride,
This whimsical ****** forget;
Some other admire,
Who will melt with your fire,
And laugh at the little coquette.
For me, I adore
Some twenty or more,
And love them most dearly; but yet,
Though my heart they enthral,
I’d abandon them all,
Did they act like your blooming coquette.
No longer repine,
Adopt this design,
And break through her slight-woven net!
Away with despair,
No longer forbear
To fly from the captious coquette.
Then quit her, my friend!
Your ***** defend,
Ere quite with her snares you’re beset:
Lest your deep-wounded heart,
When incens’d by the smart,
Should lead you to curse the coquette.
1.4k
Relay the message
There's something I'm detecting
I promise to respect it
But if he's being neglectful
Let me become careful
Caresome
Deceitless
Excuse my grammar
Im speechless
Broad day
Thinking
Dreaming
Wishing
That he's slippin
Falling right off the edge into the ocean
Leaving your heart open
Right? Open ?
When he become irresponsible and lock his keys behind the closed door; tell me that he's the only one who can't access room in your heart!!!
Ocean no!
I hope that you don't dive in behind him and allow yourself to sway from captain to captain
I hate to be captious
But
Mermaids aren't meant to be captured by a man who's heart is fractured
My net is full of caress
So while the both of you is near the cliff; I'm somewhere onshore
Ready to reel you in with so much lure
Tell him
Tell him now
That when he clown
Which results into your frowns
Let him know that I'm in town
Right around the corner
Right up the street
No where far
On the same boulevard
But if you're smart
This is where you'll start
Where you'll Start To finish
Just end it !!
I know I don't have your heart, but I'm still in it
You know how I know?
Because of his senses
His senses, make him ask you; who is it?
Who's the guy?
"How is it that I make you feel low
And somehow your still high"
His blemish
My good intentions
His senses
See how tense he is
Makes my wish list
So I'm whispering
"Do it, do it, do it"
And you are listening
But your lips isn't twitching
You kno he'll lose it
Your eyes are glistening
His eyes is blistering
I wish I was present for witnessing
Strange because I'm smiling for your cries
Waiting for you to tell him goodbye
So I can actualize on his lies.
Capitalize on his disguise
Tell him
Tell him that it's me, who he thought that he was when he was not being truthful
His creativity and imagination
Is ambiguous and hellacious
Let him know that he have your heart, but it belong to someone else
Also make it clear that he antagonized on someone else's prize
And while your eyes are teary; you laugh and tell him that someone else has come to title him as your last
At this point He knew this wasn't gonna last, but he must ask
And ask
Again and again
Who is he?
Then you tell him ...
Tell him that he met me before and I looked him dead in the eyes like a man but didn't shake his hand.
...
Tell him that I basically told him
Apr 9, 2013
Apr 9, 2013 at 4:33 AM UTC
I get lost in my work.
Hungry again, I note.
The cycle restarts.
Better this time, I hope.
I find some good food,
Making sure to choose carefully,
And snag my water,
An essential, soon, you’ll see.
I avert my gaze—
I fear they’re all eyeing me—
And sit myself down
For a ritual eternity.
Many meals are Hell;
My body a warzone.
What you’ve learned to nurture so
Still hates you to the bone.
I accept this task I must master;
‘Twas not a choice I made.
It’ll stick with me for life;
‘Cause it’s one my genes gave.
The first taste is bliss,
But most bites bring pain quickly.
Size portions correctly;
So tired of feeling sickly.
Pain sears my throat,
So, I chew with vigor.
The swelling is fast;
I pray my water’s quicker.
The drink spells relief,
But every bite’s anxious,
Every swallow torment;
Each pause between captious.
Another meal unfinished; bitter defeat,
The peace remains unreachable.
I craved it so badly, and I was so close,
Now it looks repulsive; uneatable.
I check the scale once more,
So, skinny I remain;
Been mocked and critiqued
For weight, unable to gain.
I am Sisyphus ‘til sated,
The table is my hill,
Sustenance my stone,
And my mind is my will.
I get lost in my work.
Hungry again, I note.
The cycle restarts.
Better this time, I hope.
Jan 31, 2025
Jan 31, 2025 at 8:18 PM UTC
Days have ventured by
haphazard-quick
but nevertheless captious
opinionated as a castrated casuist
numb but brain-ready over-drive
constant thickened thoughts
for the next fix...
Whatever city you befriend
whatever your home,
boulevard far or closer Strip
or Suburbia ever-green
she is easy to find
anyone looking
a dirge in their eyes...
As much as one
would like to disappear
with sniffing silence that comes
when the nose itches white wishes
or lungs
burn to breathe
cacophony...
Days will drag on
insect insidiously
all the while, she waits
to enliven Saturday night conversations
becomes geode-gibberish
gladness
from a tunnel of a dollar bill
a straw
she knows / she stands in
whatever city you befriend
whatever your home
she speaks your dry tongue
a language that weeps
escapism
embolism...
She is very forgiving:
the space between numb
& living.
Nov 11, 2016
Nov 11, 2016 at 1:25 PM UTC
i
Her accent thick, matching mine own
A faraway sip, of a Ruby chalice unknown;
Her hips finely stiched, amour put into her bones
Wine poureth off her tongue, a universal home.
ii
Captious by her wild's, a fig of the branch
One to calmeth me down, one whom shalt entrance;
A capotasto, to holdeth all beautiful sound in place
Angelicy pastry, goddess of the human race.
iii
She shalt cleave to me in her strife, conjunction to me
We'll forget the thing's not needed, easily thus we'll breathe;
And whilst traveling the cavern's, of the mountains and sea's
We shalt becometh one flesh, one reality, and one knit dream.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 9:58 AM UTC
Greed, hatred, and delusion:
The three unwholesome roots.
They are responsible for so much suffering:
Pain, sadness, disputes…
"I want, I want, I want…":
Such is the urge that drives us.
And we, poor fools, are unable to see
The goodness of which it deprives us.
Hatred buttresses the ego
With vengeance, distrust, and despair.
We end up being inextricably
Caught in its captious snare!
Delusion poisons us all
And obscures wrong and right.
We flounder about in blind confusion,
Unable to see the light.
But, hark! All is not lost.
Three antidotes exist:
Generosity, loving-kindness,
And wisdom--just a short list.
Generosity quenches
Our constant, greedy craving.
A truly magnanimous spirit leaves
No room for misbehaving.
With loving-kindness we see
The good that comes from caring.
Ugly hatred can't survive
When it's kindness that we're sharing.
Delusion is maybe the hardest
Unwholesome root to destroy.
But just imagine conquering ignorance
And bathing in radiant joy!
If we applied to the poisons
The antidotes listed above,
What a world we could ALL live in!--
A world full of peace and love.
- by Bob B
Oct 30, 2016
Oct 30, 2016 at 8:05 AM UTC
This man is sweet-tempered.
He can fill a whole room with nice aroma.
When others are in need of closure,
You can always count on him to take you to rosier.
In perspective of others,
They like to nitpick on his features.
His voice, his appearance, his everything.
Their behaviour is simply captious.
What I see is an angel descending from above,
A heavenly aura seemingly palpable.
With his winsome smile and his feathery wings,
His figure is outrightly unmistakable.
I love his cordial behaviour.
Whenever he talks to me,
I can’t help but release sweet laughter.
In a room filled with tenebrosity,
He can light up the room with his jubilant energy.
In the tranquility of the night,
He is the moon and stars.
In the amidst of darkness,
He offers bountiful open doors.
Life without him wouldn’t be the same.
In the darkest of times,
He’s my guide to my pride.
The only person to keep my sanity high.
Mar 30, 2025
Mar 30, 2025 at 11:45 PM UTC
In my family, a convent in Lucerne, Switzerland loomed legend large.
Its name is “La Madone Noire” (the Black Madonna) and according to my mom, it is a “finishing school” where captious girls, who lied or who wouldn’t behave, were sent to live with and be schooled by nuns.
It was, from all reports, a terrible and stern place where there was never any ice cream or bedtime stories and the toys, when there were any, were made of straw.
Most of the time it was my older sister Annick getting the dark Poe-like lectures, but I was there, in my high chair, listening wide-eyed. The very idea that Annick could be snatched up, for some infraction, and sent off to the nuns horrified me to the point that my heartbeat seemed to come through my whole body.
Eventually, as we grew, “Lucerne” became a shorthand for “shape up or else,” and oddly, it never lost its potency. Hmm, you know, come to think of it - there was no equivalent monastery for my brother.
Jan 2, 2022
Jan 2, 2022 at 9:10 AM UTC
Bungalow bunkie,
Doth thou awaken or sleep to thy dust you accumulate?
Captious are one's these slothful ciggarrete nights!!!
Electrolight,
Come near that I may feel warmth,
As a child in early birth I seek forane high class milk,
Footlights on stilts do the the actors take high position!!
Not seeking the inefficient,
But the tower of Babel gone lost!!!!
Injurious kirtles are kinless,
Thy best friend is now friend less,
Due to thine own kindness!!!!
Lamb-kin darling,
Canst thou lance these burns to cuts?
For what's missing in the soot?
Lamenting chalice...
A king and a queens palace I'll die to live in,
For a smile and a grin cannot be weighed!!!
Hay/fever will take the fidelity of what's polite!!!
Damoclean of wintergreen,
Do you flatter by ones self?
Or doth thou Get help from dandering blotters!!!!
Intimate plotters of murderer's and lost hopes fun!!!
Chatoyant skin doeth I wish to feel once,
Where thy stage is real_,
No stunts!!!!!
Just reality of cavern lathered seducing!!!!
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 6:29 PM UTC
poor sara
reeked of incompetence
so she wore arrogance like a perfume
against their captious noses
the fragrant so potent
it hindered away her imperfetions
Feb 15, 2021
Feb 15, 2021 at 1:16 PM UTC
I lie on my stomach, spine contorted
And listen to my fingers flick across the keys
My arms tingle from my elbows down,
And still I lie and wait
For something profound to come to mind
For anything that isn’t a cry for help to escape my hands
To feel an emotion that isn’t pain
My intention is not to be captious
But to illustrate the current of my emotions
And my current emotions
They change like the tide
That is, what I’m feeling inside
It is more and less than nothingness.
The sadness so thick that one could choke
Yet the antithetical is just as true
There is a numbness that lays deep
Beyond my elbows and to my heart
A deep depression,
Simple, dark.
And sometimes I fall apart
And rebuild through writing,
Label it therapy,
Label it art.
Jan 29, 2017
Jan 29, 2017 at 11:14 AM UTC
Life is but a game.
You win. You lose.
You learn, and you choose.
It doesn't matter
When you are at
A corner
Trying to escape
From reality.
It is a churning
Crest.
A cluster of spec.
A valued piece.
A domino.
A fragile tease
Of what is to be known.
Frail.
A vortex of fear,
But a fountain of
A fruitful Lear.
You are but
A minor character
There to make a scene.
To see whose in vain
And whose insane.
The volouptious
Captious minds of
One's own thoughts.
Triangulating in
The midst of the sea.
Because,
Life is violent
As it is bitter sweet.
Jul 29, 2016
Jul 29, 2016 at 9:34 PM UTC
You can’t run from depression,
that’s why you feel like this again,
It’s a never ending labyrinth,
you’ll never find your way out,
a circle you’ll try to escape,
captious day after day,
It’s hopeless to try and flee from the pain,
the torment continues,
an incessant nuisance of despair,
you’ll wish away with every birthday cake,
Prickling needles that you can’t seem to numb away,
you’ll fixate yourself on;
flowers, the ocean, the color purple,
“I’m happy,” you’ll say as you braid your hair,
wiping away memories that trigger you every year,
Depression causes vexation,
you’ll pray to a God you don’t believe in,
wanting to escape,
but it returns some days,
a pattern you’ll try your whole life to vanquish away.
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 1:30 PM UTC