"daintiness" poems
Two goats
Push their heads
Through the gate –
Daintiness
Huffs in the mist.
Chickens march
Pausing to mourn over lumps.
Why don’t they straighten out
Those stones? I said.
I’ll do it myself.
One day I’ll come here
And I’ll do it my ******* self.
The goats race away,
Tripping into each other's backs -
Chasing a happiness
That comes for them every day.
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 5:27 PM UTC
*"Let's end the day of sadness
That make us feel in madness
Ask in a way of forgiveness
That make us feel liveliness
Start a day right in happiness
Through bad and good ways of daintiness
We should live full of willingness
In a short period of time, and it's realness"*
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 5:02 PM UTC
She's an enchanting little Israelite,
A world of hidden dimples!--Dusky-eyed,
A starry-glancing daughter of the Bride,
With hair escaped from some Arabian Night,
Her lip is red, her cheek is golden-white,
Her nose a scimitar; and, set aside
The bamboo hat she ***** with so much pride,
Her dress a dream of daintiness and delight.
And when she passes with the dreadful boys
And romping girls, the cockneys loud and crude,
My thought, to the Minories tied yet moved to range
The Land o' the Sun, commingles with the noise
Of magian drums and scents of sandalwood
A touch Sidonian--modern--taking--strange!
2.2k
A beautiful place, filled with flora and greenery,
Where nature’s daintiness at its best you can see…
I sit by the roses, at my favorite spot,
Pretty much confused, lost deep in thought…
All around me are flowers and trees of every shape and size,
A kaleidoscopic foliage appeasing the eyes…
The rustic elegance forms a romantic view,
If only I could share the romance with someone I knew...
There’s a reason this place is called Cupid’s arrow,
Its to contemplate, and come to know,
If love has struck you,
And if that love is pure and true…
After which its for spending quality time with that special someone,
To pass love around and have some fun,
To fulfill your romance’s every desire,
And stoke your heart’s burning fire…
So I sit there, wondering, pondering,
About him, and if it was love he did bring,
He entered my life just a short while ago,
Until then who he was I didn’t in the least know…
That he likes me he has made it passively imperative,
And in certain subtle ways I find him attractive,
But do I truly love him? That I do not know,
And it is this answer I want Cupid’s arrow to show…
Whether by destiny, or by chance,
It was here that we had our first fling of romance,
All it was, was that we passed each other,
Each staring wistfully at the other…
But for these few fleeting moments time slowed considerably,
And I remember each moment, vividly…
How entrancing his brown eyes were,
Ad how the rest of the world became a blur…
And just as we were crossing each other, the blissful trees
Whispered romance through the pleasant breeze…
And rained a shower of flower petals on the two of us,
It seemed over our infatuation nature did dote and fuss…
Which is why I took this as a sign,
That maybe, maybe this guy could be mine..
My once chance at true romance,
I really want to take that chance…
But what if he were to break my heart,
What if cupid’s arrow tore me apart,
I’m smitten, but I’m not sure I love him,
Because hearts succumb easily to materialistic desire’s whim…
And what would happen to him, if it didn’t work out…
He too, would be heartbroken, no doubt…
I care too much to affect him in any way,
If anything happened I wouldn’t live to see another day…
So I sit wondering, whether I ever dare,
To even try and lay my heart bare,
Open up and confess everything,
Or just let it remain a fling…
All around me, nature portrays romance,
But love, it’s a double edged lance,
The trees are rustling again, I see him walking towards me,
I have to decide if Cupid’s arrow has struck righteously…
Nov 18, 2010
Nov 18, 2010 at 4:03 AM UTC
She's a pattern and yet so complex--
An entity of incompleteness bound by the voices that tell her "she is nothing"--
A frame unstructured and yet paved by the scars life left on her--
Not an epitome of daintiness but the reflection of a clay that's been molded then chipped to bring forth all at once rugged, sharp, smooth and rough edges--
Multifaceted for she smiles in the light, laughs in the crowds, cries in the night and cringes at the slightest mention of the word "love"--
Self-conscious, never once hearing of a King who thought the world of her--
The irony of dodging people who care only to fall into the traps of the ones who would never care to figure her out--
Similar to a pressed rose--
Pressed into the lives of others, leaving behind residue to the point of self dehydration--
If tears are as perfume, heaven is filled with bottles marked with her name; Daisy--
Born delicate, pure, & soft to the touch--
But over time the petals have been dried , shriveled up into brown nothings that fall fearfully as another heart dares to come near--
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 2:26 AM UTC
From deep within;
Emptiness.
As if you're trying substantially to chase a ghost;
Aimless.
You look around and there is no one, nothing
Simply yourself and some nonsense..
then
I ask myself, is it me? Am I the problem?
subsequently..
I take a look at my heart;
I wouldn't find pureness but lucidity and daintiness
However..
Im still on my own
Fighting the feeling of loneliness everyday
The day ends, I go to bed
Cry myself to sleep.. But I wake up hoping that my day would be different
no, it just ends horribly.. like every other day.
Giving up.. It hurts to give up though
Specially giving up on him
As if you're yanking, stripping out, extracting
a piece of your own heart and mind.
..
Holding way too many feelings
Nodding to people and heads
When I wish to have a simple happy life
With my loved ones,
Instead they misunderstand me,
hurt me,
blame me,
disrespect me,
enough..
..
I can't explain my love to him,
infinite emotions of love,
flowing thoroughly within every inch of my heart
..
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 11:58 AM UTC
elm branches dance
to the tempo of the wind's pace
elm branches dance
their leaves caught by its light trance
which has the daintiness of grace
swaying like a whisper's embrace
elm branches dance
Dec 21, 2016
Dec 21, 2016 at 9:39 PM UTC
A woman’s touch. Yet to
another woman applied,
towelling dry, older, hands
slightly more worn, eyeing
the young woman, secretly
wishing. The young woman,
naked except the pink bow
in brown hair, thinking of
something other, not sensing
anything of the woman drying,
the touch, the towel, is far
from her thoughts, maybe some
boyfriend and his recent deeds
or words or both. The bath
had been refreshing, the water
just right, the older woman
always has it so, the towel laid
out, the soap prepared, washing
the back, places she cannot reach.
The older woman seems to take
her time, drying each area of skin
with some daintiness, a delicate
touch, wanting more maybe or
nothing very much. The younger
woman, feeling dryer, more in
touch with self, thoughts ordered
into place, takes no notice of the
other woman’s rub of ******* or
under arms, no thought of hers at
all, no grace, no charms, the recent
boyfriend, he who made to her such
passionate entering and kissings,
she feels like a fatted calf, some well
stuff bird, pleased with her self, her
sense of need fulfilled, the pleasure
dome having been reached and done.
The older woman drying now the thighs
has no wish to end her task, no other love
or want, except what’s there before her eyes.
Apr 25, 2013
Apr 25, 2013 at 2:42 AM UTC
coercive the tune she sang
to his ear it had a tempting twang
she the harlot wind
enticed him into her snare
she'd coveted
possession
of him
with strength
she sang her strains
to the appeal of his ear
the hallways
of his mind
endlessly reverberated
with her chords
in the back of his mind
a virginal breeze
murmured
her delicate tune
her pitch floated
as a feather
to his ear
her zephyr
twas dainty
and had not
a coarseness of tone
his dilemma
which of the possibilities to chose
a covetous harlot
so enticing
a ****** of daintiness
pretty of tone
who would sway him
by way of correspondence
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 11:34 AM UTC
Daintiness is your dance in the wind,
You beauties are the reason,
I await the rainy season,
From budding to bloom,
All tiny detail of yours is an artistic boom,
Amidst the leaves of green,
Soils brown,
Alluring to the eyes,
You wear your elegance as a crown.
In the background,
Where the sky is blue,
My favourite colour is pink on you.
Jul 11, 2023
Jul 11, 2023 at 9:04 AM UTC
Ujjal Mandal, India
On a spring morning the sweet
smell of newly clad blossoms
coated with dew and honey,
I saw a maiden tugging
a ivory comb through her long
and smooth tresses
beneath a tree;
I approached to her.
Oh, she was more florescent than the moon
of the night,
Flowers stoop to her beauty,
such beauty I never have seen nor
I felt before,
I agree to gobble up the poison
of her charm and daintiness.
Jun 12, 2022
Jun 12, 2022 at 6:59 AM UTC