"cherishable" poems
Standing In The Abaft In Front Of The Commodore's Cabin,
I Look Back Towards The Towed Wooden Raft Floating,
And I Am Smiling To Myself After Remembering,
How The Angel Was found, Liberated & Lost.
Yes, Sadly, She Went Away, Never To Return,
Probably Her World Was Way Too Cherishable,
And Comparing To Her World I Was So Perishable,
Now I Have Learnt That Angels Are So Very Unnatural.
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 3:47 AM UTC
A girl's values are now FINALLY free! Because nothing wasn't meant to be ever forgotten from her literal inside outness. Nor was it meant to fixate a very awful opportunity for her to mend NOTHING at all of the sort.
Except now that all values are truly free.... How does she put up with the newly evolved form of freedom, (that too is... Nothing more then the impression of something that isn't entirely evolved, when it's more of the freedom of something that never "up to this very point in time" has had the very taste for freedom...ever since this very "corruption" had first started back in a (supposed past) that can't EVER AGAIN become measured properly...? When all isn't meant to be remembered, ever again. When it's also never made to be forgotten (for the most part), either.
So, reasoning out the many variables that compute too much seeming nonsense, as if it's meant to correct it's very wrong doings without thinking about whether or not, it's made to simply be this way...from now on...?
A question repeated by another question, doesn't give enough value to an even more "correct" answer... When nothing is made to bear for the correct assumption, when wanting too correctly "imply" something of an entirely different meaning, altogether.
So, in order to mask this (good enough impression) where nothing would ever again, become "faulted" right off the bat! So you couldn't ever become the more obvious to such a situation that isn't ever to be up too date, ever again.
This poem is too a girl who isn't just (on the dime) to correct their most importance across something that's most deserving of a young and cherishable young girl's lifetime values. (Because let's face it...) A sense in someone's very self isn't truly found out or correctly assorted into context for their very heartbeat to pulse even more correctly too life, if it's not been made to be assorted (very well) within it's very pattern recognition to debate those very pulses into even more correct verses. That would then normally lead into a proud melody to simply interpret as mere language to itself bouncing off of different representation of things that ONLY matter from deep within itself (first and foremost).
Because one's very values are then sometimes mistakenly disguised by the heart that you have yet too interpret (towards the very inputs that have yet to correct it's own values for the heart to value, altogether)!
And that is a brain that's too full of itself... That it can't even see the more correct reason, as too simply "why that is"...?
PS... The brain is the ultimate finisher of failures across an even more disturbing platform that can't even redeem itself (properly) when it's CONSTANTLY yanking it's own chain essentially too bear...alone with!
Oct 3, 2020
Oct 3, 2020 at 10:50 PM UTC
'Tis horrible to wield a word
To slight and slander me
'Tis better to deploy them
For fable, myth and story
There are maddest multitudes in words
Contain divinest sense
It's possible to convey magic
In every single tense
But bastardize words cynically
If you really must
But know in slight you've broken
The cherishable crystal of my trust
A bard is hard to pigeonhole
So, really, mate, try it all you like
I'll be waxing lyrical
While you're still playing psych
Feb 13, 2017
Feb 13, 2017 at 9:44 AM UTC
People will hurt you. Its just the way it is. People lie, steal, cheat.
They love but they hate.
Sometimes hate overpowers love and they make mistakes.
People are cruel, they learn to love you just so they can learn to break you.
They find your sensitive part inside of your heart, then cut it out and take it for themselves.
No matter how hard you try, a person can't be perfect.
I have learned in years of suffering that life isn't a field of flowers.
Its burned grass, with dead trees surrounding your bare feet.
Its you sitting on the edge of a mountain watching another's life pass by and you sit there staring.
Its sitting alone hearing muffled sounds like you've been submerged under water.
And as the water slowly drowns you, you gasp for one breath, but the crowd grows larger and they surround you till your dead.
Life isn't cherishable, it isn't magnificent.
Its dead dandelions and no rainbows.
Its black coffee and stale bread.
Its broken hearts and shattered dreams.
Life isn't love, its nothing more than a book without an ending.
Its worse than death.
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 1:09 AM UTC
My lover pushes me away with the belief that I don’t know….
I wonder why it has to be this way but I move along for their sake…
Oh but to move along is so difficult because I cant comprehend their actions…
I plead and hope to understand but I still cant comprehend….
All I need to know is that they know I trust them with all my heart…
And will never fail them no matter what comes this way…
But what comes this way is danger and warning signs that my heart will be broken…
But I continue despite the danger for I will always be there no matter the price…
Even though the price may cost the ultimate risk…
I will stand by their side because that’s who I am, that’s what I promised…
And my promises I will never break for if I do I will lose the person I am….
And that is not a risk worth taking, to lose yourself over something so small…
But logic is beyond my keeping promise for now that is all I hold on to…
It is all I know, for now I will focus only to fulfill my side….
For I know now that what’s to come can never really be in a fortune…
Its in all the little things that make us up….
The laughs, the smiles, the kisses and the hugs that’s what makes us….
Life’s little moments that make it worth living…
Just to know that they’re there for me is but one of the many blessings….
I cherish them for eternity and forever, as long as the meaning may last…
Dec 3, 2011
Dec 3, 2011 at 10:35 PM UTC
The Mind should always saunter
Like a Jacaranda flower
If the Mind is stationary
It stultifies and sours
Roving, roaming like a rainbow
An infinity in rings
The Mind is a wanderlust warrior
Most cherishable of things
Dec 21, 2016
Dec 21, 2016 at 11:17 AM UTC
Time
is slowly creeping along
is being taken away, day after day
is complete, and utter contradictory.
They say time is a gift,
and that's why we call it the "present"
But is it really?
How is putting a measure
on our daily lives,
telling us when we have to stop;
when to start -
A gift at all?
Time is
immeasurably indistinct.
We like to have the power
to think we can do what we want.
As a society
we like to think we are in control
But we're not.
Time is unchangeable.
A moment passed
is a moment lost.
Never: attainable
returned
relived
or redone.
It is the one thing on this earth
that we cannot escape.
Fate is inevitable.
So this time
make it worth while.
Make it something
beaming
cherishable
undeniably enticing.
Because once it has happened
it will never happen again.
Dec 19, 2011
Dec 19, 2011 at 11:19 PM UTC
It seems to me to be out of sight, out of mind;
but are there not cherishable memories left behind?
Have our experiences vanished from your thoughts?
Have our soft, 'i love you's', been buried, with the rocks?
What happened to 'us'?
These memories won't fade.
No matter what I do, they will inevitably leave a shade.
A shade of hope;
away, a wind can't gust.
Forgetting about those experiences,
is now what I've grown to consider,
a must.
Nov 29, 2010
Nov 29, 2010 at 12:09 PM UTC
Because I could dare to believe,
The angel Lennon stooped for me,
The contact between two kindred souls,
And eternity,
We quickly flew - he knew not slow,
And I had climbed his wings,
With passion and with ardour,
Most cherishable of things,
We passed the earthen angels bright,
Blake, Buddha and Ganesha,
We passed them diligently working,
With Love's light enmeshed,
And then, upon a lightbeam,
We met Angels of the sky,
Chasing light that follows,
Where those bonny Angels fly,
We paused before a God that seemed,
Like Shiva, bright, supreme,
Painted like the cosmos,
With pallet got from dream,
And then to cosmic churning,
To hear divinest truths,
The music madly burning,
With beauty rare, forsooth,
Since then - I am an angel too
Guardian of the South,
Feels good to me that I strove to fly,
Right back in to spiritual health.
May 5, 2017
May 5, 2017 at 10:08 AM UTC
Writing gave me something to believe in; something to hold on to.
It gave me a purpose, when I thought there was nothing left.
It took me to unimaginable places, where I could see new adventures and new life surrounding every footstep in that direction, beautiful flowers crowding over my shoes, like it was a new rebirth for this journey.
Writing have me a mindset, one that I didn't see possible, it have me a mind that saw all colors of the world, everyday I didnt only see black and white, I saw colors flowing out of peoples mouths as they sang songs of broken hearts, I saw colors streaming down faces of greif and hate.
It gave me moments that were so cherishable, it couldn't be torn from my mind. Moments that only I could be apart of, it made me realize that; although I was alone, I was apart of something huge. Something so unspeakable, no one even knew it was there.
Writing have me sights of mountians with no end, it abled me to feel life through the trees, and to hear the words they spoke.
A pencil and paper gave me a world never thought possible.
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 11:16 PM UTC
Whilst I was sat, indifferent, no care,
A golden aura drenched, suffused the air,
Behind me, felt the aura manifest,
Distinguished by its golden colour blessed,
An angel who'd sung woe for me, alack,
With gentle pressure rapped upon my back,
Showed divinest beauty of my words,
Said my poetry admit me to God's herd,
In time the angel said My name is John,
My cheeks flushed rosy, killed the pallor wan,
I could tell from his enchanted drawl,
The angel John had come from Liverpool,
Then he invited me upon his wings,
To meet the angels, listen how they sing,
Grafting for Peace, a team aspiring,
Rushing round the earth in golden rings,
The earthen angels with loves light enmeshed,
Their names were blake and Buddha and ganesh,
Shooting angel message like gods darts,
In to sad, beleaguered human hearts,
Then to meet archangels of the sky,
Chasing light where bonny angels fly,
Then to shiva, beaming, proud, supreme,
Painted with a pallet got from dream,
Then to cosmic churning, tuneful truth,
Knelled out sure with beauty rare forsooth,
To most of us the blessed truth, aloof,
But I listened, and wisdom I sure hath,
Beyond seismic ocean, something more,
A goddess, deva, Kali, beauty sure,
Against the demons in incessant war,
A goddess irresistible to adore,
She, the truest vision of myself,
Tis good I strove to fly to spirits health,
And trusted John to climb upon his wings,
For he I sing, most cherishable of things
Aug 28, 2017
Aug 28, 2017 at 12:38 AM UTC
Where's the line between true love and puppy love?
Is there even really such a word?
What was the coiner thinking?
Loved laced with infidelity, sure.
How about young love, love that was tucked away in the shelves of time? Stored in the farthest reaches of our mind, hibernating,
Yet moves our hearts with its presence.
Singeing our lips with its delight; our skin, burned by its intensity.
Love that haunts us, until we find a diversion to keep it at bay.
So strong, you feel it's knock in a room flooded with blaring noise.
The thought of this person, scares you.
Yet this fear, is accompanied with hope—that there's something cherishable in this world.
But despite all this, I cannot fathom how someone can still call it, puppy love.
I guess puppy love could just be that providence sent to stir our hearts.
The taste, to enable us to see what's worth loving, what makes us click.
A love, that reveals us what kind of love, we should love.
Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 8:38 AM UTC
There she is my ******
Carry my dream as an African queen,
Her words are very sweet, soft, and delicate as honey,
So I feel boom! Blessed to be her only son
She is my shield in the middle of the sunny zone,
I have got nothing much to pay,
Here and there, everywhere I’ll say;
Have seen none like my queen
I’m blessed with her long way,
She guides me in a better ray,
I appreciate, duplicate, her effort, every day
I dedicate that her love never deplete,
Dynamic, and never lead me astray.
On her side tho’ blue turn grey,
Among four am her beloved kid,
She never gave up on me,
I mean she has never been mean,
She gives all of her to me, and always there for me
She forgave me for all I did,
She is my pride song, and gives me all I need,
My peafowl, society remarkable,
Rose flower, and society reliable
Do you wonder who is she? My honorable?
She is she, not he, but family dependable,
She’s who she is, even tho’ you cease who she is according to the bible,
There she is, my beloved Mum who makes me loveable and feel cherishable.
Dec 6, 2020
Dec 6, 2020 at 2:18 AM UTC
My intentions are weak;
This much I know.
But I try my hardest
just to please you each day.
If I fall Why don't you
you fall. try a little
I don't harder for me?
want to
make things
worse.
We could make the memories
between you and I cherishable.
Lessons are the things
you experience daily
with no sense of reason
on what they actually
do to people—like us. "Keep me in
I hope that you observe your memory
the clear drops of rain each day
that touch your windows. you walk
They have the right idea— the narrow
to move on to better places. sidewalks."
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 6:04 PM UTC
** ROUGH** GREAT
**JOURNEY ** CHERISHABLE
** MEMERORIABLE** IMPORTANT
** VALUABLE ** ESSENTIAL
** PRECIOUS ** VALID
** LOVE** THOUGH
HARD HURTFUL
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 9:45 PM UTC
Have me have me nots.
Tear drop..
for something good I have not.
Tear drops..
like my feet with no socks..
plop ploppity sloppily tossing feelings like keepsake rocks..
something cherishable something good no longer got.
I lost it Singing love me, or love me nots..
Adornments of pretty frocks..
hair curly in cute **** locks.
Forget me or please forget me not.
A position to be in brings chilly shocks...
I'm just a thought away.
I'll tease myself this way..
my friends only a call away..
a text away..
a prayer away.
Maybe someday
just a touch away..
I pray..
Oh for goodness sake..
Be just a hope away
Call me and say
oh I was just super busy.
Doing me my way..
how is your day.
By selinasharday3
Sep 11, 2019
Sep 11, 2019 at 6:45 PM UTC
His music - mysterious -
Enchanting - unique -
I could tell - the divine knell -
Had come from Nature's freak -
Suffering submerged in passion -
As he larks - plays -
His gift - if you can sense it -
Is for musical arrays - :)
By far the most enchanting -
Spirit at the strings -
His heart - unlike another -
Most cherishable of things -
A riot most illustrious -
Borne aloft by sound -
Raises me above the throng -
Lifts me off the ground -
Aug 17, 2017
Aug 17, 2017 at 4:34 PM UTC
Little bits of happiness
Are cherishable treasure
Every moment yields to me
A beauty without measure
As moments fade to memory
I traverse the wild frontiers
My misery diminishes
It shrinks and disappears
Dec 10, 2016
Dec 10, 2016 at 6:46 AM UTC
Far away in a stately kingdom of normal people,
when two minds met in the meadows of principle,
while breathing air let out sounds of fipple,
it wasn't scientific to analyze in multiple.
Even questioning purpose was debatable,
By applying logical reasoning as valuable,
Became clear that staying the course was truly cherishable.
Oct 28, 2019
Oct 28, 2019 at 11:53 AM UTC
Is there time, Love, is there time
To take sanctuary from the world
And go into the wilds, unfurled
In my heart, affection swirled
If there is time, Love, if there is time
Is there time, Love, is there time
To indulge the heart and all its whims
For its the most cherishable of things
When it syncopates it sings
If there is time, Love, if there is time
Is there time, Love, is there time
Could we traverse passionate frontiers
Before fate creeps up and life disappears
For touch of you my spirit sears
If there is time, Love, if there is time
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 1:01 PM UTC
I saw the most unusual jewel
Of ruby and aquamarine
Its majestic hues had me in thrall
O Beauty unlike I've ever seen
Wrenched from the crown of Gaia
It inspired me to rejoice and sing
Of it's beauty, along to ancient lyres
Most cherishable of things
If I could stow away with it in my heart
I'd be the happiest poet on Earth
Enamoured of its beauty stark
It warmths the breadth of my heart's girth
O tell me is there a joy as you
O moving, magic ruby blue
Feb 15, 2017
Feb 15, 2017 at 7:26 PM UTC
Again the trials of life by treachery afoot,
Trick you with trap, coy to catch your boot,
Holding thee captive to cage and pain,
Singing a mad and melancholy refrain,
My hand fights, struggles to release the snare,
I've not seen such a forlorn vision,
Of beauty wild, hung by haunch, it makes an incision,
In to my Heart: all Love is bled from there.
I would traverse fate's lines for miles,
To see that disdain turned in to smiles,
Fathoming deep in to the art,
Of turning a furrow and a frown in to a blossoming Heart,
O Beauty you are composite Love,
Her truth embossed behind your eyes,
That fathom deep and wide as skies,
In to Love's exquisite trove.
May God grant freedom and say bless,
Release you from your distress,
Bear you aloft on heaven's wings,
To ferry you to him, most cherishable of things,
Yet make of you a child of Earth,
Gestating deep, sunk in soil,
With the people and the petals embroiled,
Loving her the breadth of her girth.
May 2, 2017
May 2, 2017 at 10:51 AM UTC