"chart" poems
When the sun
is a sleeping beauty at night
shining on the Moon!
The night is wake
is a stunner far cuter.
It knows no cold foot
is on the move.
The full wax of the starry
sky keeps awake.
But none could chart a line
exposing a beautiful
night in the veil, no one
says a single word.
The first one perhaps that
dared to open the mouth
only to be speechless
to be lost for word!
Not a night or two ago but
since the dawning of the time!
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 11:30 PM UTC
"That's so gay!"
A use of
Slang and slander
In
The
Wrong
Direction.
If they use
Gay as in
Happy
The
Way
Most
Have
Forgotten
It would be a good expression.
But if they use it
As a reference to
Homosexuality
Then
I
Don't
Get
It
I
Won't
Get
It.
You can't be more gay
Than someone else.
There's no scale
Or
Chart
To measure
Gayness
And it's a bad expression
So gay is
Bad?
No.
Gay is not bad.
People who say "That's so gay."
They are bad
Apr 10, 2013
Apr 10, 2013 at 10:33 PM UTC
Leg off the table
you red face recruit!
put on the offensive
and break down
the bolted door!
you are the soul saver
the peddle maker
the calibrator
with colored handbills
and front line
rhetoric
join the masquerade
in ivy league style!
politicking with
cunning guile
invisalign smile
blackened vile
bleeding the funnel
with gold plate omega
and crocodile shoes
get on stage
and dance you fool!
you are the headline maker
the pantomime juggler
the compromised closer
pull out that 5 page review
(bullet points only please)
and polish those weathered lines!
did you give it your all?
the door tags
and pleasantries
the tidings
and clippings
the irrevocable claims
and postured blames
all those impressionable basics
put to the test?
you know the call
(straight from
those cold academics)
the pie chart gurus
and contract killers
(complete with bone in finger)
whipping their
frenzied crew
in an all night
charade
old yellar
and the gatekeeper
sure seem amused
(sharpening their inquest
behind closed doors)
firing up the shiit storm
with those hostile priicks
and a slew
of insatiable
cures
there’s laughter from the back room
the dripping nose
and wavering hand
the cut white lines
and checkpoint tales
the pipeline romance
and lacking form
(of a basic essential
character!)
soundboard
and narratives
for logging time
slouching on the
steel case
over moot points
ready to play
the 3 weight
butter card
(if need be)
might I remind you
it’s only an inquiry
(with a slight hint of concern!)
surely no
malfeasance
or deception intended
so step back from
the melt down
and cut to the chase!
headlines to breadlines
penthouse to outhouse
those immoral pursuits
have taken their toll
(haven’t they?)
madman or rogue
(you take your pick)
for the scores
and tabulations
are final
shame on you
for the foul play
the bold hypocrisy
and order desk games
the back stabbing blames
and spurious names
just sign on the dotted line ~
this banter
is killing me
Jan 4, 2017
Jan 4, 2017 at 1:12 PM UTC
Sweet Wolf
Your art is grand
But your blood
Is far away
On the Hemospectrum chart
You a peasant
Me a half Royal
We don't mix
Indigo and Rust
You're a free wolf
I'm a high-blood
Go do your art
Make the world a better place
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 12:46 AM UTC
Are you a witness of the precise moment
on that very proverbial, unpredictable day
when everyone did mind the gap
but the Ramadan moon took a step?
None could time it at first, as if it got out
from a black hole or an uncharted water well:
down the trail, who can tell?
Now a day or two is gone, has passed by.
The moon is in the fast lane soaring high,
and fills the orb with serene soft light.
Ah, buddies catch up, the suave fireflies.
Tons of these stay awake in the night.
Before they fly away, vanishing afar
into the epic portion of the night.
A confluence down the black moon,
only to catch a glimpse of any pattern:
a morning star or a forming pin bar,
a slice of light on a gingerly lit chart.
Premiering the Eid moon’s first blush.
Yet, if only one can time it, when will it flash?
Deep down a black moon, all eyes black out.
Still, how can one sigh though? Ah,
the unpredictable black moon, should it show
just a peek, showers the earth with Eid’s joy!
Will it show up in no time, far from the sight—
galaxies light up the shady nook of night.
A houri in the Eden rings the alarm.
The veiled bunch of fairies push the sky.
Every star throws its hat, only to tell first
when a crescent moon will crop up
And with the first spill of moonlight,
topflight it goes, pushing the boat out!
A walk down the black moon
without a light or water gone into the blue,
As though walking dead, blindfolded.
No pattern, decimals of Pi undefined by design,
but spot on gets to the apex spike!
There’s still an unmarked blank space
the light on this way doesn’t paint.
And this time, the time won’t tell
is there anyone who can is anyone’s guess.
So should the houri dare to run, then
cherubic she be on her flawless flaw,
rushes to ask the Queen of Heaven!
Oh, good luck to her, a wild one.
Time the black moon, its first glance
precisely when the Eid moon will crop up.
Enlighten us, we are more than curious.
Tell us, too—don’t just tweet it to the stars.
May 19, 2018
May 19, 2018 at 8:08 PM UTC
Waiting all alone
waiting on this cold table
waiting for the doctors and the drones
I feel the scratch
of the itchy cotton gown
on the narrows of my back
as it climbs up and down
Displayed I lye on the medical tables hard cold steel
It seers into the crevices of my bones
I ponder the lone window and wonder if it's real
I listen for the bleep and bloop of medical tones
Nurses walk by in a mechanical grace
poke and **** & tap and touch my face
and then proceed to leave without a trace
with no hint of knowledge of my medical case
Waiting all alone
waiting on this cold table
waiting for the doctors and the drones
I'm a big girl, I'm a big girl
I begin to chant in a simple rhythm
as small as a ball I begin to curl
I'm abandoned inside this glassy prism
The dead silence creeps inside my brain
I want to scream to fill the deadly gap
but the cold thick air of silence brings pain
I comfort myself and say it will be ok
My breathing begins to quicken
my eyes dart around the room
only comfort is the fear which I am stricken
my sight goes bleary as darkness looms
Waiting all alone
waiting on this cold table
waiting for the doctors and the drones
Tears sting the corner of my eyes
I want someone to hold my hand
Oh God how I want to cry
but the only thing there is the bleeding arm band
The test begins with the thickness of barium
It slides down my throat and clings to my esophagus
It tastes like chalk and pandemonium
they want me to suffocate I guess
I chug and chug as the pictures are snapped
x-ray upon x-ray of my stomach and my back
Drink more Drink more They tell me to do
Nervously I shake and say, anymore and I will puke on you
Waiting all alone
waiting on this cold table
waiting for the doctors and the drones
Even more poking and prodding ensues
but of my stomach, ribs and *******
I lay rigid as a board from the pain of each touch
I grow weary of this tiresome rues
The tests are done
and the coast is clear
I am left alone
to dress myself in fear
Dismissed and discharged to walk away
they file my chart with a robotic smile
now for the wait of endless days
I'm lost in my mind's land of emotional exile
Waiting all alone
waiting on this cold table
waiting for the doctors and the drones
Pins & Needles Pins & Needles
I wait for the results
Is it stomach cancer, an ulcer or both??
In the dark I am kept like followers in cults.
Nov 2, 2010
Nov 2, 2010 at 2:34 PM UTC
In my homeroom class, we don't have a seating chart.
But I still sit as far away from the door as I can.
Subconsciously it's probably because of a school shooting.
I've been anticipating one to strike at my small high school for a couple years now.
It's probably because of a lock down we had a couple years ago when I was still in middle school.
There were armed men on campus.
We had to be silent for hours.
I was in choir at the time.
Over 100 of us were squeezed into a small space.
There were girls crying,
my best friend was holding my hand,
I was having an anxiety attack.
I was only thinking
"Please not today..."
I'm not surprised anymore.
When another school is in the news,
it's deeply upsetting
but not surprising.
It's all I've ever known.
The Columbine High School shooting happened in 2001.
I was born a year later.
I've never actually known peace in this country...
Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 4:25 PM UTC
you check on me many times a day
with my antique ears
I hear your squeaking shoes
on these vinyl floors
someone laid for those who came before
like passengers on a stalled bus
with windows that allowed only one view
I know you and I wait for the same thing
for you to check on the passenger who replaces me
he will be no different
a few more hairs, perhaps a few less stares
you will gently place your hand on his wrist
write in his chart, and maybe
glance at the date of birth,
do the mindless math
and wonder without wonder
if my replacement will have a bigger number than I
but I am still here
gazing at your angled eyes
while you count the beats
which slow a little each day
waiting for you to say
how long will this one last?
don’t worry, squeaking vinyl floor walker
when my drum stops pounding
I will try to make sure it happens
while I am asleep
Aug 9, 2012
Aug 9, 2012 at 7:42 PM UTC
Two were suffocated
One stabbed
Four drowned
Three broken neck.
A massive shock for her,
articulated.
10 were over
None are forgotten,
7 irrelevant
but 3 where all 3.
She was asked to
portray all these
in a pie chart.
While he was eating
a blueberry pie.
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 4:18 PM UTC
Entry ~
You were the first man that ever broke my heart. It was the day I was born. You held me in your arms and made me a promise that would rip us both apart. You promised to love me unconditionally from the start. But time passed and over the years those words faded from your heart. In the presence of a war when you had one foot out the door. There are vacancies in my memories where a father should have played a part. Like teaching me to drive a car, or telling me don't believe boys that say I love you from the start. Instead, I looked at every boy with tears in my eyes and willingly accepted every single lie, thinking maybe if I part my thighs they'll learn to love how broken I am inside, but they never do. Just like you they leave without a single clue and I'm left alone, used, wishing my daddy would have loved me too. And I'm not writing this to blame you, or break you, or tell you I hate you. I've made mistakes too. Ones deeply rooted in my relationship with you. And I get that maybe you didn't have a clue that your daughter was struggling in the world without you. But I relied on you to set the standard for boys I would let into my heart. By the time I was sixteen, I felt like a tortured piece of art. I learned to love myself of course. Over the years of ripping myself apart I learned to chart the darkness in my own heart. I don't blame you anymore for my broken parts. I'm healed from being angry at you. I'm writing this to tell you I'm sorry for failing you, and I'm sorry you failed me too.
Sep 25, 2017
Sep 25, 2017 at 12:07 PM UTC
For a while, I ride my life.
I reflect on my thoughts.
I wander into a different world.
I chase stars.
For a while, I own the dream.
I feel the warmth of the Sun.
I meander on the roads.
I feel the spell.
For a while, I chart my destiny.
I engineer my journey.
I flaunder with joy.
I race the winds.
For a while, I live.
On my wheels.
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 10:16 PM UTC
“You’re overweight,” he says, tapping his finger against his chart of heights and measurements, thighs too big and fingers too plump. I already know. I nod, and continue nodding, listening to the word echo and then fall onto the ground, bouncing and bounding, restrictions that have surrounded my whole life, my whole curvy figure. If I could be like the girls with the flesh wrapped tight and the bones loose and caving in on one another, I would grab the chance before it had a chance to flutter away from my desperately aching hands. When I look in the mirror, I try to remind myself that flaws are flaws and yet they were made to be beautiful, but I see what I see and what I see makes me want to ***** makes me want to close my eyes, makes me want to pull and tug and rip until there is nothing left but a pile of rotting decay. I am stuck, I am back on the playground in sixth grade where the boys would taunt and laugh, point and gasp, as I tried to pretend I looked like everyone else, every other small, petite little girl who didn’t have to worry about these types of things. My clothes don’t fit, I’ve gone through seven pairs of jeans in the last month alone, I look back at the pictures when I thought I was fat, but I wasn’t, I was fine then, why did I think that? I lay in bed beside the man I’m supposed to be with, fully clothed and pushing his hands away from my hips, away from my lips, don’t touch me then if you can’t handle all that I have to give. I’m not her, and she never wished to be me.
Oct 21, 2012
Oct 21, 2012 at 5:19 PM UTC
accept your personality
except when you dont meet the criteria
accept your body
except if it doesnt look like the photoshopped models
accept your clothing style
except if it doesnt fit into the listed categories
accept your weight
except if its not in the doctors average range chart
accept your loss
except if it starts to bring others down too
accept yourself
except if you dont then i will
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 2:41 PM UTC
It has been years since we have been apart,
But you will always live in me.
I wish we could go back and restart.
A sad smile and a broken heart,
Like the old branches of a tree.
It has been years since we have been apart.
I do not have words to start,
The clock strikes twelve thirty three.
I wish we could go back and restart.
I seek solace in art,
I hope it can set me free.
It has been years since we have been apart.
We are now miles apart,
Your face is what I wish to see.
I wish we could go back and restart.
I sit in my room with our to-do chart,
And you are not next to me.
It has been years since we have been apart.
I wish we could go back and restart.
Tanay Sengupta, Copyright © 2018. All Rights Reserved
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 3:17 PM UTC
let's catch the moonbeams
let's catch them now
let's catch the moonbeams
let's catch them now
let love anchor on the shining beams
let it flow through us as a crystal stream
let it stay till the end of time
let it ring within us as a dulcet chime
let's catch the moonbeams
let's catch them now
let's catch the moonbeams
let's catch them now
let love grow eternally in our hearts
let it array in each and every celestial chart
let joy be the wonder we'll get to know
let our affections always show
let's catch the moonbeams
let's catch them now
let's catch the moonbeams
let's catch them now
let our world be a place of love divine
let the planet's twosomes ever entwine
let love's song of endearing go on endlessly
let it rain its happiness so beautifully
let's catch the moonbeams
let's catch them now
let's catch the moonbeams
let's catch them now
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 6:44 PM UTC
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Arrived quickly and fitted perfectly... size chart was very accurate and true. The custom service girl told me their production team has improved the fabric on this dress by choosing a kind of new lace fabric. Yes it really is! I love sooooo much the fabric and whole version of this little white dress!The dress was everything I imagined.
The details of the dress were exactly like the picture. I ordered the dress in my normal size and it fits perfectly. The dress took approximately 2 weeks to arrive after I purchased it. The customer service team at izidressbuy was very helpful and worked really hard to have my dress arrive early for my formal event.
This dress is beautiful, and very flattering. I love it! Unfortunately, I wanted to wear it to a wedding - the ceremony is at 1pm; the reception is at 5pm. It is perfect for the reception, but too dressy for the ceremony since I will be doing a reading and would be way more dressy than the bridal party. It's definitely evening wear. Beautiful though. Haven't decided if I'm keeping it or not. I can't use for the intended purpose, but I could definitely wear it for years and years to other events. Also, dancing in it could be problematic because it is quite long (just above ankles on me, and I am 5' 8-1/2") and it's straight, with no slit. You'd have to hold it up a bit to dance. But again... it's a gorgeous dress.Read more here:www.marieaustralia.com/short-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-2015
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 1:43 AM UTC
in june I felt the project change
from trying charting all scenarios of your face
to looking to books to blacking out spontaneous lines in found papers
to clearly eventually
be a misneglected omen of your impending collapse.
"I would like to blame this on the weather,"
I said to the sky,
"I would like to stay."
I felt the camera flash stop taking
strobe light moments of our strobe light moments
instead slipped tape recorder in your cereal box
videotaped the tooth brush
ever scraping dead skin while you slept.
I said, "If you wake up I will know nothing."
if you call this a dream, I will shake
and shake.
I said "it is clear now that you are decomposing."
(there's only so much the heart can take.)
stopped thoughts about the bus would hit you
spent time watching the sun through your palm:
little bones will scatter light.
little scars on thumbs.
we are made up only of who puts us back together.
and I could smell the rain.
I said, "It is easier if you stay angry"
I said to the sky.
"I would like to stay."
I put the Starbucks mug on the radiator
ceased to chart your worried looks.
I knew your brow, heavy clouds as you'd undress
but made a scrapbook of frozen dinner clippings
drew a line through where you went that day.
I said, "I want to prove that you meant nothing"
I said to the sky.
"I would like to stay."
I said to the sky.
and then the rain.
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 4:44 PM UTC
Poems need not be sad
Or angry or mad
With endless lines that go on and on and on and on and on about broken homes an broken hearts
And false starts
That painfully chart
The awkward writer
From darker to brighter...
No, instead they can start
With a poetry ****
Pure expression, release
Once out they bring peace
Just put words on a page
Don’t think, just engage
They don’t have to be long
And they don’t even have to be rhythmically strong
Short or ugly or loud,
Will do just fine, that’s allowed
As long as you write
With all of your might
Let go
Of the words
Let them flow!
Get rid of what’s stuck
In a head full of muck
Let them out and they’ll bake
You a metaphorical cake
That does what you need it to do
Even if it’s not good enough for a national poetry competition because the scansion’s all wrong
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 4:09 PM UTC
*We all had a start,
We have been ignorant
Far of being smart,
With an artificial blank brain,
And a brave willing heart,
We were weak to stand alone,
To learn and achieve on our own,
To live we needed a mentor,
A guide through this chart,
It could be a father,
A passionate brother
Or a loving mother,
A famous great idol,
A wise careful teacher,
Or just an annoying sister,
A mentor could be anyone
Anyone that brings hope,
Anyone that could motivate us
Anyone that made us thus.*
© Copy right protected
Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 7:17 AM UTC
I want to know how many scars you have
And memorize the shape of your tongue.
I want to climb the curve of your lower back
And count your vertebrae
Your ribs
Your fingers
Your goose bumps
I want to chart the topography of your anatomy
And be fluent in your body language
I want you, entire
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 7:49 PM UTC
let's catch the moonbeams
let's catch them now
let's catch the moonbeams
let's catch them now
let love anchor on the shining beams
let it flow through us as a crystal stream
let it stay until the end of time
let it ring within us as a dulcet chime
let's catch the moonbeams
let's catch them now
let's catch the moonbeams
let's catch them now
let love grow eternally in our hearts
let it array in each and every celestial chart
let joy be the wonder we'll get to know
let our affections always show
let's catch the moonbeams
let's catch them now
let's catch the moonbeams
let's catch them now
let our world be a place of love divine
let the planet's twosomes ever entwine
let love's song of endearing go on endlessly
let it rain it happiness so beautifully
let's catch the moonbeams
let's catch them now
let's catch the moonbeams
let's catch them now
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 5:49 PM UTC
Chubby Bellies
just what is the matter with matter that's dark
is it clandestine because it won't show it's face
but it seems to be everywhere that you look
especially if you look deep into space
the energy created is also quite dark
literally tearing gravity apart
I know this is really hard to explain
but won't you please have a look at my chart
if you look here at these many galaxy clusters
gravitational lensing is required to see
when you use the cosmic magnifying glass effect
there is a bulging middle to a large degree
more study is required they call it CLASH
cluster lensing and Supernova survey with Hubble
I gathered this info from space dot com
chubbie bellies creating this bubble
Morpheus aka Gomer LePoet
Sep 4, 2011
Sep 4, 2011 at 10:02 PM UTC
Lasting love has eluded me
Loneliness still consumes
No matter what I do
or the difference that I make
The hole inside me
grows bigger with time
Why can’t I shake it
Why can’t I be fine
What’s the matter that I can’t
just love only myself and
embrace my time alone
I can’t explain it
I’ve tried so very hard
to chart a new path
Extrovert, fun, life of the party they say
If only they knew the bleakness inside
I hurt from the trauma,
the heartbreak and loss I’ve endured
I’ve never felt good enough
for this world I inhabit
Maybe the next one will
be more my jam
This lone life is just not for me
I hang on for others
So that they won’t be sad
But in time I will be ready
To do what I feel is in my grand plan
Aug 27, 2023
Aug 27, 2023 at 11:48 PM UTC
1295
Two Lengths has every Day—
Its absolute extent
And Area superior
By Hope or Horror lent—
Eternity will be
Velocity or Pause
At Fundamental Signals
From Fundamental Laws.
To die is not to go—
On Doom’s consummate Chart
No Territory new is staked—
Remain thou as thou art.
4.3k
i know what newton tells us
i know countries and continents and cities
i know the planets and their moons
but i did not know the galaxy of my body the planets that are my organs or the nebula of my mind
until you showed me
you taught me and showed me and led me with coarse hands and eyes deeper than any space i have ever traveled. you caught me in your gravity when you showed me ribosomes and platelets and when you traced my veins like they were a map you needed to follow without even knowing where it would take you. you told me the cosmos are forever but the body dies and that is far more beautiful than any atmosphere or supernova. i want to chart the stars on your skin with my mouth and i want to show you the taste of an atom and i want to teach you what overexposure to your radiation does to me but you are already laughing and telling me that something as small as you does not deserve the attention of the universe.
when i said i wish i had never met you
i told the truth
the universe was easier to comprehend
when it was only dead stars
instead of the way you look at me
Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 10:23 PM UTC