"complimenting" poems
Dandelions
Hair was long and yellow like pale dandelions;
Complimenting blue eyes, and white skin.
I was drawn into such rare beauty,
such new and unexplored mystery.
New girl in town, a new taste of envy in the air.
I befriended you; I wasn't so quick to judge.
I studied you closely.
I gained your friendship quickly.
I came to know you,
and the worst parts of you.
You lied so beautifully;
Manipulation to a fine perfection.
Still I followed you,
opened my heart up and fell weak.
You used me all up.
Drained me out;
Out of patience, out of friendship, out of love.
Everybody hated you.
They still hate you, and now I do too.
Aug 27, 2013
Aug 27, 2013 at 2:25 AM UTC
i. when I was young, I was never complimented. I never felt good enough and it hurt and somewhere along the line I began complimenting everyone because I was never complimented and I never wanted anyone to hate themselves the way I did. just because I call a girl pretty does not mean I want in her pants.
ii. we live in a country where a gay poet spoke at obama's second inauguration, where five openly gay senators serve, where all fifty states have had a gay elected officer in some capacity, so if I were to be gay, what's the problem with a relatively unknown sixteen year old girl from a relatively unknown town in a relatively unknown state being gay?
iii. do you want me to be gay? do you want a better, more socially acceptable reason to make fun of me? is my weight not enough?
iv. I was taught the term fluidity by my best friend Alyssa. she firmly believes that sexuality is a spectrum, like many other things. I have a different view on sexuality because I see it as a spectrum, not something that's set in stone.
v. I like making people happy, I like completing people, I apologize a bit too frequently and I was taught how to accept people.
vi. just because I call a girl pretty does not mean I like her. just because I say a dog is cute does not mean I want with the dog. just because I say a painting is pretty does not mean I am going to **** the painting.
vii. aesthetic is a very important word.
viii. there are three kinds of attraction, aesthetic, romantic, and ****** just because you have one does not mean you have all three. just because I like the way something looks doesn't mean I am going to have *** with it.
ix. sexuality is an Identity. not a YOUdentity.
x. I'm not gay, but if I were, trust me, I wouldn't go for such a whiny little *****
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 3:30 PM UTC
i am the colors of the sea.
bright Cyan,
Sunny and see through,
No secrets or scars.
Six feet under,
But can still see,
The stars.
Coral reef Pink,
full of life and of Heart.
The color of kindness,
where all beautiful things start.
Sea foam green,
Bubbling anger,
Act without thought.
Falling from heaven,
my emotions,
in knots.
Midnight blue,
Thoughtful and quiet,
Daylight fleeting behind us.
reflecting
a sky sprinkled with,
star dust.
A cascading rainbow of emotions and color.
All the shades of me, complimenting one another.
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 10:15 PM UTC
i thought it’d be poetic
to leave you the same way i found you,
with a contentless text—
a simple entered space
(i knew you wouldn’t catch it)
although you seem to be someone
who thinks very deeply about all someones,
your thoughts about me are puddles
disguised as over-complimenting oceans
and i really do not know
what i am or what i’ve been to you,
or if i’ll be able to keep myself away
from you, or why you’d drive hours
to see me in the middle of the night
when you “plan on kissing at least one
girl in the next three months,”
(could care less if it’s me)
"what would i be waiting for," you asked.
i’m barefoot, chasing a train i know
is on tracks that lead away from where
i want and need to be (but i liked the way
it felt when your hand touched mine)
glad i never gave you any piece of my heart,
because you’re the type of boy who’d
rip it to shreds, hide your claws
behind your back, and tell me that
i should’ve seen it coming
(though you would’ve been right)
maybe you’re just bored,
and that’s why you decorate
your skin with ink and don’t care
about whose lips you’ve touched,
and i wish i could figure you out,
wish i could draw a perfect portrait
with my words (or even just
my thoughts) of who you are,
but i won’t pretend i know you
i hate you and your ***** tattoo
(but i don’t really hate you,
i hate the way i let you make me feel.)
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 1:38 AM UTC
One friend is deaf but manages to hear twice as much as I do,
while simultaneously embedding himself in games and genius.
One friend is kind and smart, always complimenting and supporting others before herself.
One friend is quiet, and she is both easily embarrassed
and easily embarrassing.
One friend is the previous friend's brother,
and crushes on me while never saying enough.
One friend is very intelligent and geeky,
and detests wearing skirts even more than I.
One friend is really in your face and dramatic,
pushing the boundaries on everything, but noone hates him.
One friend is the unfortunate brother of a great annoyance, but is her polar opposite.
One friend has hair of constantly changing color;
blue, green, pink, black, yellow, brown,
but always the same hoodie no matter her hair choice.
One friend has a thousand faux laughs,
but guards his true one from the light.
One friend has a mocking joke for everything,
and you can't help but laugh with her.
One friend has a treasured hat and while sketching everyone, everything, and everywhere, lays my insecurities to rest as I do the same for him, both of us in need of some love
and understanding from a kindred spirit.
One friend has an obsession with a band and a book and a show, and an overbubbling enthusiasm for everything in her life.
One friend has a meme for everything,
and a perverse thought for every situation he encounters.
One friend is half blind but she manages to see twice
as much as me and explains everything beautifully.
One friend is crazy and gets away with the exclamation of abraham lincoln in any awkward silence because its just his nature.
One friend is as a mouse, but a genius in every aspect
and hides behind her glasses.
One friend is obnoxiously loud and more of a dork than the gangster his hoodie implies so everyone simply laughs.
One friend smiles like a duck in the cutest way,
and wears her square glasses in the best way.
One friend longs for a love that is loyal
and hide s behind his temperment
Sep 22, 2012
Sep 22, 2012 at 5:58 PM UTC
All the qualities I require in a man of mine.
Honesty, love, devotion, caring,
kindness, Understanding, mercy,
compassion, intelligence, Trust,
cleanliness, faithfulness,
sincerity, Strength, spirituality,
confidence, optimistic, respect,
Loyalty, pride, consideration, helpfulness,
Generousity, friendliness, morals,
safety, Responsibility, honor, truth,
justice, fairness, Equality,
peace, joy, harmony, happiness,
Handsome, nice, worthy, deserving,
tall, Innocent, charming,
pleasant, polite, sweet, Thoughtful,
sentimental, patient, complimenting,
Affectionate, & noble.
© Harmony Sapphire . All rights reserved,
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 12:33 AM UTC
sometimes i wish
you'd see beyond
the color of my eyes
and the cloth wrapped around my head
i wish you would
think of me as an individual
put away my appearance
and regard me as a person
my thoughts matter
my ideas aren't all bad
i have opinions
and i choose to speak my mind
if only you would
listen to my words
and try to comprehend what i'm saying
rather than focusing on my accent
and the way my lips curve when i speak
the cloth on my head
does not rid me of ideas
it does not limit my mental capabilities
it does not lower my tolerance
*have a debate with me
spark a conversation*
instead of complimenting my smile
compliment my mind
instead of assuming that my beliefs are enforced upon me
*ask me what i believe
ask me what i value*
tell me what you base your morals on
*question me
give me counterarguments
talk to me*
instead of staring at me
and making biased assumptions
already concluding who i am
and where i come from
before you've even
said hello!
i am not just the color of my skin
i am not just the size of my thighs
i am not just the design of my clothes
i am not just the price of my purse
i am not just the pattern of my headscarf
i am not just the length of my nails
i am not just a body
i am a mind
i am a heart
i am a soul
i am my theories
i am my thoughts
i am my perceptions
i am my opinions
i am my viewpoints
i am my objectives
i am my purpose
i am my outlooks
i am my intentions
i am my reasons
i am my perspectives
i am my choices
i am my principles
i am my ideologies
i am a thinking, feeling, living, stimulated, motivated, inspired being
i've got a world inside of me
take a look see
before you choose to pass judgment on me.
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 11:52 AM UTC
you think you can insult me with your charm
you think you can insult me with your beauty
you think you can insult me with that mind of yours
and if you speak
and even if you are so sentimental
your sighs still ring heavily in my broken showers
why am I so deadened
beaten down
by my own definition of what you are
you creep to those trees in my land
growing along side me
watching the season come and go with me
that is what you render to
resort to
should you dry yourself off in the cloak of
shame and timid everyday
just bring an end to me and this
bring and end
or atleast say something
actually
maybe silence should be kind
Dec 5, 2010
Dec 5, 2010 at 5:08 PM UTC
it bothers me how i can't take compliments
and i'm really confused
because it's not that i don't agree with them
"thank you I like my tattoo too"
"thank you I think I have a pretty smile too"
i think that i'm pretty
and i think that i'm cool
and nice
but for some reason when someone else says it,
I immediately wonder what they're up to
what's your angle man?
because i haven't been around someone sincere in a while
and i doubt that you're going to start it
you're much too attractive to be genuine
no one is perfect
well i take that back
one person is perfect
but he isn't around anymore
at least i pretend he's not
Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 1:28 PM UTC
Fat was the first word people used
to describe me when I was a kid
And that didn't bother me much
until I found out it was supposed to
By the time I was fifteen
I knew what it was like to be clinically
overweight, underweight and obese
It was the year of menthol cigarettes
and baggy clothes
Hunching naked over a scale shrine
Mixing ***** with vitamin water,
complimenting each others thigh gaps
*The year breakfast tastes like giving up
and the only time you feel pretty
is when you're hungry*
Not obsessed with being empty
but afraid of being full
Replacing meals with more practical hobbies
like planting flowers or fainting
And ever since I started evaporating,
girls that never spoke to me,
stopped in the hallway
and had the audacity to ask how
And when I told them I was sick,
they told me I was an inspiration
How could I not be in love with my illness?
My eating disorder was the most
interesting thing about me
But how lucky I am now to be boring
To look at a sandwich
and see just a sandwich
Not half an hour of sit ups
or two spent hugging the toilet
This is the year I find more productive
things to do than googling the amount
of sugar on the back of a
lick and stick postage stamp
The year the calculator in my head finally stops
The year that I eat when I'm hungry
without punishing myself
And I know that sounds stupid
**but that **** is hard**
If you're not recovering, you're dying
When people asked me what I wanted to be
when I grew up,
I said skinny
Jan 24, 2016
Jan 24, 2016 at 12:30 PM UTC
Whitewashed four walls
Silence and total recalls
Ticking clock on the wall
My mind begging for a curtain call
Flashbacks in my cerebral theatre
Complimenting the rainy weather
Raindrop falls as my insides wither
As I lay on my bed where we were last together
4 months gone and I still remember
Your scent from my shirt down to my sweater
Your voice I recall and every laughter
Became history now that you found another
So much done in this apartment room
So much wrong ended it so soon
River of tears flow as I vacate the room
Another chapter ends, a new story resumes
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 7:51 AM UTC
her churiyan clashed
submerging in the red, orange and green
of her sharara
as she spun round and round
a blur of striking colors
her laughing face hidden
among those of her cousins
as they danced in a circle
each girl wearing colors of the rainbow
smiles like the sun brightening their faces
their bare feet decorated with mehndi
as they spun on their toes
letting their hair follow them like velvet curtains
the pitter patter of their restless feet
becoming one with the music around them
the elders of the family
throwing rose petals and clapping
watching the new generation
bless the married couple
with laughter, colors & life
the girl with curls in her hair
pulling down the bride-to-be
off the stage and onto the dance floor
her fiancé nudging her and watching his future
twirl with the young girls
as families became from two to one
he looked upon his love with eyes full of wonder
as she pushed back her dark hair and hid her face
refusing to dance
but even the blushing bride couldn't stop the girls
from convincing her to join them
they took her by the hands
and let the music guide them as they threw their arms in the air
swaying to songs about boundless ishq
and the stars which shine upon those who fall in the arms of endless love
the bride's red gharara shimmering under the lights
complimenting the red in her cheeks
the sparkle in her teeka bright
but never brighter than the twinkle in her euphoric eyes
her mother teared watching her baby all grown up
and her father looked at her as his success
seeing his only daughter so full of joy
others onlooked
as the girls embraced their youth
and with the bride created a circle of joy
for that moment,
the love was shared between them all
they forgot all about their heartbreaks
and the everlasting love which never lasted
they forgot all about the boys with pretty eyes and even prettier lies
as they rejoiced over the love of their loved ones
with a little inch of hope in their own hearts
that someday someone would look at them
as the smiling groom did the stunning bride
*passion. surety. serenity.
pyaar*
Dec 26, 2015
Dec 26, 2015 at 9:55 AM UTC
It’s so easy to feel so small
I’m on a bus, the last one that runs on a Wednesday night,
Sketching a tired face
Bags under the eyes, made of black ink
I’m eavesdropping on a conversation,
(Does it count as eavesdropping when
There are only two people speaking in an otherwise
Silent bus?)
My heart’s been having an existential crisis,
And my stomach and chest
Empty
Yet heavy
Someone’s hands are holding my insides
And squeezing them in a fist
It is exhausting
It is lonely
In my right ear is this beautiful song
Violin and cello and
A raw passion that reminds me
That it’s okay
To be human, and to be scared shitless
I’m still listening, partly
But not really
It’s late
I want to sleep
Busses are full of zombies-
Phone, earphone, unsmiling zombies
And despite the
Tired sketch on my lap
I’m one, too
The conversation slows
I smile
I turn and I recognize the face in front of me
I’m told that this person, vaguely familiar face, whose conversation
I’ve been eavesdropping on remembers one of my poems
About stars
And the line is on his wall
A line from a poem that I wrote
About stars
Is on someone’s wall
Even better than when Chad Oliver told me I was
Quite attractive junior year of high school,
And I remember writing that poem
And I feel a little less useless
I want to cry
My body hasn’t known what to do with itself lately
You see I exhausted myself in love
And now that it’s gone
I feel useless
My heart pulls towards mediocre sketches
First sips of coffee in the morning,
Listening to the violin
It doesn’t know what else to feel for
It’s been left in this dark room
Grasping for a table,
**** even a stepstool,
Heartbreak is exhausting
Because it’s not just the heart
And it doesn’t really break
It just has to re-learn how to feel
But I get off the bus
And the night is warm,
The moon is
Beautiful,
This white-hot luminescence
Burning through the silhouettes of trees,
So bright the sky is still blue 6 hours after sundown.
I open my palms up to her
I see the stars
I open my palms up to them
They guide me home
Feb 20, 2014
Feb 20, 2014 at 1:08 PM UTC
I was pure white
complimenting your darkness
We were lit
and destroyed by our spark
A flash of joy
too hot, too bright
My substance melted
...you forgot
Our time was lost
through disasters and heartbreaks
I shared myself with you,
Why hadn't you done the same?
Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 4:03 PM UTC
This is one of those serious poems
And yet it has nothing new to say
But the poet needs to keep himself busy
And writing seems to be the easiest way
The poet rises up on his soapbox
Because he works better from an elevated height
He screams about organized religion, politics
And stripping away of our basic human rights
Like a magician with a classic misdirection
The poet wraps his moralizing in purple prose
He hits you over the head with one simple point
That he’s forgotten more than you’ll ever know
Around the time of the nineteenth obscure reference
The reader is in awe of his far-reaching knowledge
Then the poet overuses polysyllabic words
Just to prove he went to a good college
And the poet keeps filling up the notebooks
Even though he should have stopped long ago
But the publisher agreed to pay by the word
So unfortunately, there’s four more stanzas to go
Quickly, the release date approaches
There’s one printing, then two, then three
And the poem becomes a hit in coffee shops
Recited by grad students in between bites of biscotti
His face now graces the cover of every magazine
In an explosion of exuberant media admiration
Dozens of talk show appearances are scheduled
For the newly crowned “voice of our generation”
The publisher decorates the dust jacket with blurbs
Complimenting the book’s “dangerously original rhymes”
But it’s nothing more than passing hyperbole
Gathered from a glowing review in The New York Times
Now thousands grasp the paperback edition
And eagerly await the feature film adaptation
Meanwhile, the poet hunches over his typewriter
And commits more sententious literary ************
Jan 8, 2012
Jan 8, 2012 at 3:18 PM UTC
My love for you isn't just a feeling.
It's a civilization.
It's a group formed in unorganized noise.
A commotion of expression purposely existing
the sole purpose of you.
Living & breathing.
A jumbled language overheard.
Stenciled with each patter of foot.
Every horn honked.
Each lane clogged with the thought of you.
A foundation built from the ground up
in means to explore.
A stone age modernized.
Misinterpreted by the desire of fire.
Protected.
Built upon.
Built into the tallest building, which I call your name.
My love for you is like the plane that flies overhead.
Roaring loud in repetition.
Tedious nooks & crannies.
Places to shop, things to see.
All the things I see when I look into your eyes.
My love for you a province of sorts.
The smell seared in a pan. Best served on a plate for two.
A mix of different pastas, vegetables.
Fried in upbeat cafe, different aromas.
The chit chat different versions of me.
Complimenting the very essence of you.
A new building erected with cranes and steel beams.
Plastered dry wall.
Soon opened for your arrival
Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 3:09 PM UTC
Embraced in the perfection of your essence,
Lost and happily so in the world behind your eye's,
Suspended in a moment of intoxicating bliss,
Your words the greatest symphony.
Caressed by Angels fingertips,
Blessed with the kiss of luscious divinity,
Flesh stripped bare leaving two cosmic energies,
Complimenting one another in a perfect moment.
Listen, Be silent, Be still, Be aware,
In this moment everything makes sense,
For in this moment,
We view a glimpse of home.
Apr 26, 2012
Apr 26, 2012 at 3:30 AM UTC
Parallel to the storm
my beast of a motorcycle
paired with the sharp edged sensations
complimenting me with backfire
as the October cold meets my desire
to detour off my daily route
with a demand for an early rise
In the mirror I see a home
where I belong
where my lover is waiting with warmth
but for now
the cold is my journey
cruising with the noise of the roaring tires
the power of the horses
and the God-like cylinders demanding spark
shaking me and my world
while they routinely
explode petrol beneath my feet
like a heartbeat
that reminds me
- I am alive
as I pass the bridge over the frozen lake
a frozen thought melts and finds a way
from my heart to my mind
that taking comfort kills me
journeys are the only reminder
that I have lived
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 5:02 PM UTC
Today someone called me nice,
In fact I noticed that a lot of people called me nice,
I’m not telling you this because I want to brag,
I’m telling you this because I’m not nice,
And they’re wrong,
You’re wrong.
It isn’t me who is the nice one,
It’s just my actions that are nice,
My actions giving you a snack or offering a treat,
My actions handing your papers in for you,
My actions trying to help you with homework,
My actions complimenting you,
It isn’t me being nice, it’s my actions that are nice,
So whenever you call me nice,
I’m left split on the inside,
I think to anyone else being called nice would feel great,
In fact, it would be a very nice thing to say,
But to me at least,
It makes me guilty for fooling you,
It makes me wonder if you even know me,
Because I know I’m not nice,
I act like I do without thought,
Not because I’m nice,
But because it’s not me acting,
But because I’m not even thinking,
But because that’s not even me,
But because I’m just hollow,
I don’t even honestly know what I am,
I just know for sure that I’m not nice,
I wonder why I choose nice actions,
Absent mindlessly or not,
I still choose them,
And I know for sure it isn’t because I’m nice,
I think I know, because I’m afraid you’ll leave me if I’m not,
I think I know, because if I’m not nice enough who will care,
I think I know, because I’m afraid to be anything else,
What silly reasons,
Selfish reasons really,
What kind of a nice person would only be nice for personal benefit?
Someone who only acts nice,
Like me,
I think if you knew how much I hated this certain person,
You’d know for sure I wasn’t nice,
I beat up this person daily,
Berating them,
Hurting them,
In a twisted and confusing way, it makes me feel better,
You would too,
I hate this person because they’re a fake,
They’re only pretending to be nice,
They aren’t nice,
Only their actions are nice,
They only act nice for personal benefit,
In fact, they don’t even know what they are,
But they know for sure they aren’t nice,
And I know that too,
If you look closer at this poem,
You’ll see even more why I’m not nice,
Because a nice person is selfless,
A nice person isn’t selfish,
Isn’t trying to drown in their own pity,
Isn’t doing anything I’m doing,
And this entire time I’ve only been talking about myself,
This entire time.
How could anyone believe I’m nice, if I don’t even believe myself?
Mar 14, 2018
Mar 14, 2018 at 8:08 PM UTC
Blue
a soothing hue
with varying complexions
like that of each open sky
bountiful clouds
an energetic sun
and
magnificent rainbows
complimenting it
Blue
a soothing hue
cascading its spectrum
of light
and coolness
onto the earth
drawing many
to its canopy
Blue
a soothing hue
like that of the Nile
serene sounds of historic waters
flowing a great distance
confirming its majesty
and embracing sanctuary
If the color blue is so
why are so many in Sudan blue
why are so many in Sudan dying
why are so many in Sudan *****
why are so many in Sudan weeping
If the color blue is so
why is Sudan blue
why is Sudan worried
why is Sudan being terrorized
why is Sudan fighting back
If the color blue is so
why is Sudan's peaceful protesters being attacked
why are courageous women speaking out
If the color blue is so
why are tears falling from
natives' eyes
filling up an iconic river
as they mourn the ******
of their mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, husbands, wives, brothers, sisters
remembering good times
dear ones' smiles, hearts, kisses,
words,
their love and mercy expressed
Blue
a soothing hue
yet we need know why
yet we're obligated to think why
yet we must talk why
Sudan is blue
Jun 19, 2019
Jun 19, 2019 at 12:14 PM UTC
From afar
With that elegance
Mystified simplicity
It's irony to
Wear the rainbow
Until the end of light
If the rain drop
Into the face
And you find no where
To hide
You will too, left
Black and white
As a mirror
To me
After all
The Color of your soul
Casts celestial vibes
No one resist
Without complimenting
"One of a kind"
Beauty fades
But not like yours
Yesterday
And
Always
Phenomenal
Mar 8, 2020
Mar 8, 2020 at 10:46 AM UTC
When are we going to wake up to start believing that we should stopped competing and start complimenting to feel like were completing.
We need to be a team player instead of the team leader, replacing that with the idea of being on the same team and building something that's takes on the dream.
How are we going to teach ourselves of what's needed to be taught? If we are communicating to each other's to misperceived when sought to read and believe of what’s being well-received.
Why are we all on this justification to be misrepresentation as to juxtapose when we are responsible for the I could and the I suppose.
To add what is the so what to the now what? But it's the actual what needs to be address in which perhaps misaddressing to the audience of nowadays. As if we are surrogate of the hideaways of the be real today.
It's we and us and all of us to address the matter of comradeship of how compassion of it to be who you are. To create this level of friendship of the desire to follow the footsteps of who you are and as it's start with you and it begins with and ending of you.
Jul 2, 2018
Jul 2, 2018 at 1:26 PM UTC
I hope you feel good,
leaving with her,
leaving us behind.
I hope you feel good,
loving her when I love you.
I hope you feel good,
complimenting her smile while I'm
here covering up my mirrors.
I hope you feel good,
leaving her, knowing she adores you.
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 5:16 PM UTC
Your eyes,
gleaming with sparkles,
complimenting your touch
which sends shivers
to a distant place
that I once forgotten,
now remembered
and these timeless nights
and endless days
could never be so perfect
in the thought of
never laying eyes
on a new beginning,
with such vibrant colors
I can’t silence my lips
in saying 'I love you'.
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 9:12 AM UTC