"colouring" poems
Take me down while standing tall
into shattered pieces fall
laughing now tears rush by
rolling down from this high
what is known, what is seen
wash this battered mind to clean
watch me smile here and past
rictus grins that will not last
knowing of the pain to come
colouring each and every moment fun
screaming now in joy or pain
always have they felt the same
only in this sea at dark
when light is gone and hope depart
there i find that fateful step
to take me up the slope so swept
then i smile, i laugh once more
offer myself as emotions *****
though in that moment of breathlessness
where i don't have to face this test
there is a hope that i'll just stop
no more struggle to that top
dear ocean then, call my soul
let me pretend that i am whole
for i would swim the waters again
please, let me swim the waters again.
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 9:06 PM UTC
It is December in Wicklow:
Alders dripping, birches
Inheriting the last light,
The ash tree cold to look at.
A comet that was lost
Should be visible at sunset,
Those million tons of light
Like a glimmer of haws and rose-hips,
And I sometimes see a falling star.
If I could come on meteorite!
Instead I walk through damp leaves,
Husks, the spent flukes of autumn,
Imagining a hero
On some muddy compound,
His gift like a slingstone
Whirled for the desperate.
How did I end up like this?
I often think of my friends'
Beautiful prismatic counselling
And the anvil brains of some who hate me
As I sit weighing and weighing
My responsible tristia.
For what? For the ear? For the people?
For what is said behind-backs?
Rain comes down through the alders,
Its low conductive voices
Mutter about let-downs and erosions
And yet each drop recalls
The diamond absolutes.
I am neither internee nor informer;
An inner émigré, grown long-haired
And thoughtful; a wood-kerne
Escaped from the massacre,
Taking protective colouring
From bole and bark, feeling
Every wind that blows;
Who, blowing up these sparks
For their meagre heat, have missed
The once-in-a-lifetime portent,
The comet's pulsing rose.
8.1k
She's in a constant state of comfort, pure bliss
Knowing she wouldn't be pricked by a thorn,
If it wasn't for the smell of rizq colouring His roses
She's in a constant state of purity
As His clouds turn into heavy storms above her head
Gently rinsing away the bad, returning her only for the good
She's in a constant state of obedience,
As gratefully awake she is
Her eyes let go of tears with utmost ease
Honoured, they fall and sink into the lowest of grounds
Only to join His droplets of rain, humble, in their firmest sujood
Jan 10, 2022
Jan 10, 2022 at 5:11 PM UTC
the fog is slowly clearing up
and spring is colouring the hills
I'm not chaining daisies anymore
I'm kissing yellow daffodils
Jan 22, 2018
Jan 22, 2018 at 6:39 PM UTC
i just want to disappear
get a chance to eat the warming scones from the oven
and just melt away in stars and sky of navy and grey;
i just want to disappear
to fly and to leave anywhere i want or desire or dream;
i'm dreaming of melting away from where i am
for i am floating already,
why can't i just disintegrate altogether;
altogether
yes a distant memory;
forever alone isn't something you would think of until
it actually happens;
although it's not something you realize unless you've
tried love and
and been scared, afraid of what the
person on the other end of the letters is thinking;
i just want to disappear
far away into the hands of someone who cares
not just about my picture but my pulse,
someone who looks not just at my eyes but at each
individual colouring strand inside
my plain brown eyes;
i just want to disappear so no one will have to face
my retched thoughts and unattainable dreams;
i just want to disappear so my friends won't have
to look at a scared
pathetic
unhappy
awkward
lonely person and have sympathy for me if they even do;
which if i were on the outside of my slinky body
i wouldn't;
i wouldn't just want to leave but disappear for it
seems that it's what i'm best at;
i just want to disappear
from my picturesque world that you couldn't
even take a nice picture in;
i just want to disappear
from my ocean of held back tear,
my shield of fearlessness,
a fake smile that a murderer would wear,
the impression i have on the other lives of people,
and just
i just
want to disappear,
to run away,
and to not have to cause any drama or half broken feelings to anyone,
to not correct people for their non-existent flaws that are really
my own
personal balled up feelings;
i just want to disappear,
fly away into the clouds and heavens of an unreal dream;
i just want to,
i just want to disappear,
disappear
away
fly away
and never come back
never have my flimsy feet touch the beautiful ground
never let my ruined soul harm a single cell of
anyone worth anything to a single thing;
i just want to disappear
i just want to disappea
i just want to disap
i just want
i just
i
- nameless and remaining
Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 3:27 PM UTC
I want to give you my feelings
in a colouring-book.
Can you fill me in?
I feel empty.
I want to give them to you
in a box
wrapped with a bow
so you can open it
and see there’s nothing inside.
I’d like to give you my heart
in a song without chords
so you can hear the echo of broken strings.
I want to show it to you
in a black-and-white photograph
so you can understand
how grey I feel.
Can you colour me in?
Oct 11, 2012
Oct 11, 2012 at 1:00 AM UTC
In the heart of the city of peace, a sinful act occurs:
Blue bruises of love beautify my neck, just as hers;
Colouring this grey canvas of gloom with divine thuds,
It is then, when they rush into us: the filthy bloods.
Stain me with sins, and paint in white over me vigorously,
Let the gods who created us, design our hell rigorously,
Let knees rumble, red eyes tumble, and virtues stumble,
Stumble into a chaotic loss of heads: a loss humble.
Aug 28, 2021
Aug 28, 2021 at 7:39 AM UTC
This is for the father that does not consider to be a whole in his creations life.
This is for the mother who chooses to 'opt out' of being a giver of love to the fruit of her womb.
This is for the one who has chosen to be an absent parent..
This is for you...
WAKE. the. **** UP!!
What are you doing?
What is wrong with you?
It seems to me you may not fully understand the ramifications that your chosen absence will play in the life of your child.
So I will spell it out it for you..
Your child, your gift, your delight, the one who was created from your very own dna, the one that you willingly gave life to and brought into this world...
will remember everything you have not done.
And they will carry this as a load upon their back for quite possibly most of their life.
Each will carry it differently, but carry the load they will. Some will carry it with forgiveness, some will carry with resolve, some will carry with the added weight of a heavy heart. Some will carry defiantly and will never truly forgive.
And no matter how they position the weight you give, by choosing to be absent, they will still carry that load...
because of you.
And you will continue to add weight to that load every day you choose to be absent from their life.
Each missed opportunity will be a pound of disappointment that your child will carry... for you.
Each broken promise will be a pebble.
Each late appointment will be a handful of sand.
Each missed birthday will be a tablespoon of gravel
to fill their pockets.
And every achievement they experience, that you have missed, will weigh upon their mind and their heart.
And because of this, throughout their life,
they will continually try to win your love.
You hear that...??
They will try. and. win. your. love...
Because... it is not given freely...
so they will try to win it.!!!
because, bottom line...
let's face it...
you're a selfish ****
And because of your self centered behaviour, everything that they need, want and have to experience without you will be tainted with your chosen absence.
Every tear and heart break, every grazed knee, bad dream, smile, whisper, secret, colouring on the fridge door, every clay model, every needed word of advice, comfort, support and encouragement, every exam result, every moment of despair, loss, grief and first love...
each and every lost opportunity to say 'i miss you'
each and every unuttered 'i love you'
will be carefully, silently and invisibly weighed,
measured
and carried.
And i promise you this..
the weight you have placed upon them will be keenly felt
when it is their time to fly.
This is not to say they will not fly, because they will,
and beautifully so..
And with wings that you did not help to fashion.
And, because of your chosen absence, your creation, your child, your very own delight will always carry the weight that you have placed upon them.
And the weight of your absence is so much heavier than you could possibly imagine.
Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 11:27 AM UTC
spent years wandering halls
cutting the "i" from my sentences
forming words from vowels
and emotions from consonants
hard and solid, but nothing
without that internal structure
guess that describes me pretty well
all consonants, harsh "t" and definite "d"
and the ever-slippery "y", like me
never making up its mind
felt like a half-learned language
still do, really
like someone forgot to learn the proper nouns
forgot to turn the sentence around
grab the sound and speak it
there's an accent colouring my life
awkward and stuttering, unsure
and never fluent enough
to step in time with the music
for long enough to make it matter
words from vowels
and emotions from consonants
hard and solid, but nothing
without that internal structure
Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 1:34 AM UTC
the snow today
felt like a blanket
and my scarf was a masquerade mask
as i twirled through the day
on broken costume stilettos
with the stain of stupid words
colouring my lips
today, i finally came up with
something to say
that makes sense to me
now, all i need
is some other masked dancer
to say it to
can life just be a masquerade?
can we just judge each other
by tone of voice
and tilt of head
and honest things said
and simple choice
and just
that gut feeling you get?
today, i finally came up with
a request
and i've got the tape paused in my head
just waiting
for something to click
for someone to reach out and press play
please don't call me by my face
call me by my name
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 1:40 AM UTC
It was once said that we "accept the love we think we deserve",
and I think of you and all the ways you'd shatter my nerves;
when you'd raise your voice or even a hand
every time I did something wrong - a mark on my skin you'd brand.
I was your canvas and your punches were the paintbrushes colouring me in,
painting me in explosions of blue, purple, red; completely covering my skin.
I took the poison you leaked and absorbed it entirely,
calling it love and I thought of you very highly.
I'd just wipe away my tears and apologise for making you mad,
convincing myself that I was the one who was bad -
but really you were the gunman shooting me down,
and the one pushing my head under the water hoping I'd drown.
It was once said that we "accept the love we think we deserve"
and as I sit here reflecting our "love" with reserve,
I realise I thought I was worthy of nothing but your violence,
but now I know better and the compassion I truly deserve is priceless.
Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 6:18 AM UTC
A strange kind of intrusive ambiance; voices in several languages, forced laughter, technological functioning; human activity intermarried with machines. The volume rising perfectly in sync with my cortisol levels, I interrogate my past for signs of the path that led me here; it remains blurred. I did not dream of working in customer service; but here I am regardless, moments of my life that I will never ponder again; a cascade of the present moment repeating as long as my employment contract exists. An event-less horizon, memories are stillborn here and true ingenuity stifled. There is much and nothing that has led me here. It is hard not to feel like a horse bred for performance in this place; everything is monitored, quantified, reviewed and collaborated. Performance reports produced with the fervor of medieval scholars translating the bible. I look to the sky, what else is there to do; only to see smoke alarms and aesthetically neutral lighting arrangements. There is art work on the walls, but is generic, created to defy analysis. The colouring of the walls is chosen to exude a neutral sort of trendiness; on brand for the overarching corporate image.
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 7:32 AM UTC
Accept my pity, ye tormented souls unable to raise and dazzle
all I did was earn my keep and walked in sunshine from the soul
but
When men are full of envy they disparage everything,
whether it be good or bad.
Now I know some minds never grow and thrive only in envy
For Envy, like the worm, never runs but to the fairest fruit;
like a cunning bloodhound, it singles out the fattest deer in the flock.
These wretched starved toxic souls, only see a man with plenty
The flower which is single need not envy the thorns that are numerous.
I did not countenance that faces are pale because they lacked
just thought that was the Creator's work on days when brown
and yellow, swarty, ivory and tan paints ran out
I knew a lot hated this insipid opaque pale colouring, but at least
they have beautiful hair and lucky ones have pearly white teeth
but unbeknown to me, real envy resides in them and blinds them and makes it impossible for them to think clearly.
Oh dearie me, our pale brothers and sisters die inside their souls
And age so quickly, radiant in bloom one day, grey and wrinkled
in the morrow like a wilted rose devoid of water and light
Their pain and envy, their self-loathing, their insecurities ravages
Let age, not envy, draw wrinkles on thy cheeks, dear friends.
For you see, God's truth judges created things out of love,
and Satan's truth judges them out of envy and hatred.
Our envy always lasts longer than the happiness of those we envy.
If malice or envy were tangible and had a shape,
it would be the shape of a boomerang.
I fear not and now understand why you envy and hate me
I can appreciate the bile and venom for Fools may our scorn,
not envy, raise. For envy is a kind of praise.
Worth begets in base minds, envy; in great souls, emulation.
When people envy someone else, they want what that person possesses. As time passes, they develop hostile feelings towards that person, and eventually begin to hate that person because of their possessions and the unrequited desire to obtain those possessions.
Feb 28, 2019
Feb 28, 2019 at 8:53 PM UTC
*You can't see,
as I wouldn't show.
It's an art colouring,
with hidden secrets,
you are the one with the secret soul.
The false veil is taken.*
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 11:10 AM UTC
So, I've had a really smashing time,
playing all those games,
singing songs and colouring,
and playing with your trains.
I've had a lovely time at school,
but sometimes I've not been good,
and perhaps I've not quite acted,
the way I really should.
For the times you have been patient,
and listened to me shout,
for the times I've been quite naughty,
And needed a "time out"
I'd like to say a "Thank you"
for looking after me,
and making sure I'm okay,
in your nursery.
But sometimes I'm really trying,
and hopefully there'll be,
more days that I am better still,
you won't believe it's me.
You've been so kind and helped me,
accepting me as I am,
which will help you out in a year or two,
because next
IT'S MY BROTHER, SAM!!!
Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 11:36 AM UTC
Pavement where
an egg shell should not be
that perfect shape
fractured with spider leg cracks
across the surface
of its world
how did they get there?
those Nazca Lines?
And the amount of discarded shoes seems to be multiplying each day,
the busted boot on the traffic island
its been there for weeks
a plimsoul
childs shoe
strangely,
they're all left footed
is there significance in this?
I look for patterns in everyday things,
TV Schedules
wallpaper
colouring books
Sudoku squares
floor tiles
Tube maps
football scores
I keep looking for clues
like a retired detective who just can't let go
Dec 29, 2012
Dec 29, 2012 at 4:32 PM UTC
Why the sudden alarm I ask?
Because you've eaten a horses ***
For years we've eaten all kinds of meat
Mixed with things you find in paint
A list of E numbers a sentence long
Who knew if they where doing wrong
Colouring from crushed beetles shells
Or other insects as well
Artificial raspberry sounds yum yum
Yeah it's made from beavers ***
So here's a tip to help you shop
Look under the bar code at numbers lots
This may stop you getting cross
If it starts with 5 sling it out !
Its Asian chicken bleached and vile
From roadside **** or any source
boiled in salt of course
So we now protest at a bit of horse
Years to late we've eaten worse.
On holiday you eat bulls *****
Your hotdogs could be his other smalls!
Sweetbreads eyeballs hooves the lot
So diced, reclaimed or added in
You've no idea what's gone in
Mad cow mad horse or confused pig
I wonder if I've eaten each
The veggie options just as bad
With GM foods Monsanto's bag
MSG enhancers to to stop the food from tasting goo
So wine or beer for me tonight
As foods now a depressing sight
Bacon butty anyone?
Feb 9, 2013
Feb 9, 2013 at 2:25 PM UTC
I could never work out why my cheeks went so greedily red when you showed your teeth.
Heather says it's because I get nervous too easily - anxiety, she said
I think it's the opposite
your white lies have a familiar milky hue
And I like contrast.
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 5:19 PM UTC
i wrote your
poem on a
pitch black page
with a white
colouring pencil - to
show how you
stand out in
this dark world.
- t.m
Oct 4, 2016
Oct 4, 2016 at 6:08 AM UTC
oh what sustains this mind
a mind that teeters
on the edge of a spiral vertigo
that sways and rocks
in an unease of palpitations
attempting to escape
from the brutal insensitivity
of the granite faces that occupy the streets
a mind of hallucinated perceptions
with a constant stream of imagery
that finds a difficulty in the self negotiation,
the articulation of its inner geography
where a frightened availability of disturbance
in the vocabulary of its chemical graffiti
leaves speech vacated on the tongue
where eyes are pushed to see
a discord of sympathies for different dimensions
that has one disassociated, cut off from the immediate
living in an inner dialogue
of rebellious and unconventional preoccupations
a self alienation that heightens
the poetic colouring of the imagination
causes a ************ of the mind
that makes me cripplingly aware
of the abyss at the heart of my inner disquiet
makes my toes hover on the jagged edge of the world
yet I jump choosing discovery over societal dictum
to do rather than be
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 9:00 PM UTC
Take a crayon to this page –
Contrary to popular belief
I love bright colours,
Especially on a Sunday when it’s wet.
(This is when everyone does colouring in,
Because water does not stick to wax.)
Take a crayon, darling,
Tickle me pink.
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 2:41 PM UTC
The terra is only one
planted in clay soil
one planet of earth!
The sneaked out nightingale
here is never gone.
Unleashes soprano
at the same ancient roses'
still a perfumed home!
It's the starry upside's
dark down deep hole.
Sunset melting shadow
down the half light moon!
Eyes on in toto cool
after the day painter sun
is done colouring in full.
Guess, up from the sunrise mountain
who beams back tomorrow
into this unfathomed serene clay-mole?
Again see the sun follows by the moon!
Jun 9, 2021
Jun 9, 2021 at 1:02 PM UTC
Colouring my lip
Describe my lip perfectly and beautifully
Makes my lip sexier
Seduces man to erase it with kisses
Less marks only has been leftovers.
Oct 3, 2011
Oct 3, 2011 at 3:08 AM UTC
He sat there, same table, most Sundays
If he came alone, he did not stay that way long
His corner table would fill, with nodders and smilers
People with pint glass recognition of all he'd done
His special tankard 'World's Strongest Man'; no year, for that would be cruel
I watched him as I grew, from colouring book infant to
The girl who stood a round for her father
Each year he shrunk a little, those
muscles softening to fat
And still they came and asked him to bend their metal pipes
And carry a man on each shoulder
One handed him a rope for his teeth, and
Asked if he would tow away his junker, they
Laughed and bought him another round, mate, another pint
For the World's Strongest Man
He told me once, when I was 10 and curious,
The stories of his ink marks, the places
He had been and all the strange and wonderful things
He had lifted and bent and pulled and
Training with the Sumo, ice hole bathing with Inuit,
wrestling hobbled Russian bears, the lion that left 'see, this mark here'
A yawn when he'd placed his big, shaggy head
In the beast's mouth because
He too was a king
I asked him once, when I had grew
If he should have been
More like bamboo
Thin and reedy, bending in the wind
No substance to speak off, yet
With a strength belieing it's slender form
He told me, as the acolytes trudged past
In heavy boots and rough winter coats
'All I ever wanted was for someone else to take the weight, even for a moment, but now it's too late'
I smiled sadly, because I understood
Tested strength and how it withstood
And yet I felt his heart-deep sorrow
At looking back, not to tomorrow
I did not buy him another pint, I walked with him instead
Through the door he'd left a thousand times
To his taxi, usual driver, 'home, mate?'
Lean on me for now, I said. I'm stronger than I look.
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 12:57 PM UTC