"deceivingly" poems
A self confessed dreamer
One that knew no bounds
Can't keep his mind in tether
It's always fleeing from the grounds
He'd always been the dreamer
Picking the shackles of reality
Always hopeful of finding another
A safe haven, an escape, a sanctuary
Madness is thought of this silly little dreamer
Forever bartering reality for a life of fantasy
"He's moonstruck", said one to the other
Obstinate still he chooses to wander free
Alas one day, he stumbled upon a jewel
Glistening, deceivingly within arm's reach
But a beautiful game was played so cruel
Fate wouldn't give easily what it could teach
Glimpses of undefined beauty
Himself drawn closer to this beacon
He craves for this gem so madly
Didn't care for what's to happen
He descended to the surface
One thing he just did realise
That the jewel wasn't in its place
But a reflection of another in the skies
He looked up, he spun and he squinted
Attempting this search he had just begun
For a moment he found himself to be blinded
For the jewel is indeed the sun
He marvels at her beauty
Till his eyes turned red and sore
But he doesn't stop even briefly
For she's the object of his adore
He gazes at his newfound muse
Till the day grew dim and late
When she sets he would hesitate and refuse
To return willingly to his ****** state
Through promise he returns daily
To catch his sun as she would rise
For she fills him with aplenty
And she listens to his forlorn cries
He loves her much as she did him
In each other's magic the two would bask
As time flits by, the day grows dreadfully dim
Too short a time from dawn till dusk
The dreamer waits patiently
As dusk turns to dawn
The dreamer waits painfully
For she will come then she'll be gone
This rise is somewhat special
For his love he had made known
She admits the love is reciprocal
For him her love had also grown
But the dreamer will soon come to realise
Out of reach his sun he can never kiss
Her bountiful love will be the ultimate prize
The prize he can never claim to be fully his
*"Silly little dreamer feeding your childish dreams"
"Silly little dreamer what fanciful notions you make"
"Silly little dreamer you'll be ripped at the seams"
"Silly little dreamer not every heart you just can take"*
He pays no heed to what the others say
He knows his chances run exceedingly slim
He's walking on tightrope that's doomed to fray
But what happens today is what really matters to him
I am that silly little dreamer
Whose feet is never on the ground
I have chosen to live part of my life in wonder
For it is you that I have found
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 5:59 PM UTC
In the garden, a soft-bodied plant thrives,
through sun, wind and rain, it survives,
among asparagus ferns, it proudly lives,
contrasting its purple triangular leaves
against greens...its lightest of pink blossoms
waltz with the wind, in their fragile freedom,
almost white to blurry eyes
wavering...but, they never hide
raised high above the grass
like ladies proudly poised, with so much class...
a small white butterfly suddenly blends in,
deceivingly perched upon the pinks
but the sound of the camera's clicking
sends it immediately fleeing...
to and fro, the blossoms are swaying
reeling from the wind....wailing
over the sudden flight of their lover
waiting, for a new winged creature
on their purple bodies, to perch, to hover
alas,
....life is short...........never fair...
....and so are some...love affairs....
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Sally
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
March 15, 2019
Mar 14, 2019
Mar 14, 2019 at 8:33 PM UTC
My skin is raw from the frequent scalding hot showers.
I want to scrub your fingerprints off my body.
I don’t want to smell of your deceivingly sweet nectar,
I don’t want to feel your lingering embrace any longer.
It is no use.
I know that if someone were to kiss my body,
They would taste the insincere plague of your tongue.
They would absorb your flimsy forevers,
And those tender kisses that were meant for only me.
It is no use.
I cannot forget.
It is impossible for me to peel off these imprints.
So instead I will cover them.
I want to tattoo the first time you kissed me all over my body.
I want to tattoo our beach trip on my thighs.
Our day at the amusement park on my feet.
That’s where the skin is thinnest.
Poke close to my fragile bones.
I want it to hurt as much as possible.
It needs to sting.
Jun 10, 2013
Jun 10, 2013 at 3:33 PM UTC
Intake warm breeze
as chest expands
Like a tequila shot
Slammed
Top shelf tequila...
A more enduring
Sobering
Variety of elixir
Oxygen and energy ringing
Integrity intact
Confidence withstands
Through chaos and madness
I AM a glorious being
We ARE shining out
into the galaxy
Can't you see?
Only by running on
Spiritual fumes of evermore
Can we truly be
All we were meant
Without a penny spent
The universe expands
Fills up every pore
of pink lung
Feeding blood as
it wraps around
My heart squeezing out
Every ounce of
Stamina and love
Exhale air of hope
So grateful to it
Swirling up
My being bowed down
in reverence
Indebted to it
the atmosphere
The same breeze
Engulfs birds in the trees,
Who drink it up,
Singing sweetly
Sure beats man-made
Intoxication any day
of the week
Don't you think?
The best highs
of this life
are beautifully
Intrinsically
Deceivingly
Free
Go forth!
Spread your wings
Spanning from
Past to future
Fly to sights unseen!
Soar the currents of today
Right up to the heavens
Dear friends!
I'll be perched
Waiting for your faces
in the branches of Serenity,
Chirping hymns of Love
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 1:25 AM UTC
That feeling that you get when you drop the last bit of your ice cream cone.
When you think you lost your phone and it's in your back pocket.
When you simply can't find your glasses, which are on your head.
When you trip over a painted line.
When your bookmark falls out of your book.
When you think there's an extra step at the top of the stairs.
When you think there's an extra step at the bottom of the stairs.
When you conveniently keep hitting a newly formed bruise.
When you can't find a matching sock.
When you accidentally press send before you're ready.
When you break a hair tie.
When you step in a deceivingly large puddle.
When you get a paper cut.
When you scratch a CD/DVD.
When you sing along to a song you hate.
When someone steps on the back of your shoe.
When someone's tag is sticking out.
When someone's a loud chewer or chews with their mouth open.
When your hair blows around and gets stuck in your gum or chap stuff on your lips.
When you stain your clothes.
When you lose an earring.
When you run out of cream for your coffee.
When you get to E in your gas tank.
When you step in gum.
When you sit on hot leather seats.
When you sit on wicker furniture with shorts on.
When you get shampoo in your eye.
When the soap is so small it crumbles to pieces.
When no one refills the toilet paper.
When someone sticks the milk or juice back in the fridge with half a sip left.
When you can't for the life of you think of the name of something.
When you forget how to spell simple words.
When you have to walk barefoot on hot pavement.
When you get an awkward sun tan.
When you forget to reapply.
When you get fingerprints on your glasses.
When someone spoils a movie or TV show.
When your favorite character dies (love you Sirius).
When you have an itch with a cast on.
When you can't open a combination lock.
When you hear a mosquito in your ear.
When you drop your change everywhere.
When you smudge your nails right after painting them.
When the Bruins lose.
When the end of your jeans fray.
When you get hat head.
When you get shocked by inanimate objects or people.
When you (re)realize there will never be a new Harry Potter book.
When you have something stuck in your teeth.
When you can't fall asleep at night.
When you can't turn your mind off.
When your phone decides to shut itself off.
When you have a cord that just isn't long enough.
When time after time I have to remind myself that you aren't who I thought you were.
Jun 5, 2013
Jun 5, 2013 at 10:06 PM UTC
Deceivingly simple, we sit down
On our ****** plastic step stools
After school in the kitchen.
You ask me how my day was. I say
Fine thanks, learned about quadratics.
I ask you where you went cycling. You say
Oh, you know, the usual. Round out
That way, and back. The usual.
We sit in silence for amount as I cut a slice of apple and hold it out to you across the room.
You take it, and we sit on our ****** plastic step stools
In the kitchen after school,
Sharing silence and an apple.
And I almost love the crisp, cool crunch
As much as I love you.
Jul 14, 2023
Jul 14, 2023 at 2:36 AM UTC
Desire is the fire that burns
Through my entire attire,
Forcing my naked soul into this brightly lit
But deceivingly sick world-
That this angel, this girl
Is the queen of;
She is everything we can only dream of
Yet she stands in front of me,
Of all the people,
The most broken and most evil
She stand in front of
-ME-
And I can't figure out if life is over
Or if I am just sleeping,
Because last time I checked
I only see her while I'm dreaming,
And when it's this pitch black
I feel like I'm screaming-
But there's nothing but silence
...
And while it tears me apart
This is the only way
I can reach out from the dark
Because my mind can not find
The words held in my heart
That's why this was written in blood
From the start.
..........
.........
........
.......
......
.....
....
...
..
.
Oct 17, 2010
Oct 17, 2010 at 12:01 AM UTC
The concept of being deceivingly perfect.
For you were the someone who I wanted to stay.
I‘d constantly remind myself not to expect
cause you were a race car in a speeding highway.
I thought that I’d actually be getting somewhere.
We were going in full speed but never stopping.
With the familiar cool breeze running through my hair,
You were just speeding past while I was still walking.
Sep 15, 2019
Sep 15, 2019 at 7:30 AM UTC
if love were a color
it would be crimson
crimson like your illuminated cheeks whenever I say your name
love is like a lion cub
deceivingly cute and playful
but in it's depths, deadly
love is a cigarette, lit by a simple flame for enjoyment and pleasure
but slowly releasing toxins into you
if you could touch love,
it would be as rough as a kittens tongue brushing on soft skin
love smells like a newly blossomed rose
that's sweet scent will eventually deteriorate and drift away with the storms
if love were a sound
it would be the prayers that hospital walls consume
if love could speak, it would say:
" caution: falling into me is dangerously easy, while trying to fall out is incredibly hard "
lovely lost lies
love
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 11:10 PM UTC
a couple of days ago we visited a land inhabited by deceivingly accurate portrayals of life. we grew so entranced by everything we saw. we spotted a very strange looking crustacean flanked by a really thin looking squid positioned upright. she quipped about how it looked just like a pen, and when we went to the store we made it our life's only mission to find it and buy a replica so that every time we confessed to our journals we'd remember the day. but it wasn't there. i think about it now and i laugh because what kind of a mentality is that? to just be so sure that something will be there, will work out in our favors, will come back despite all odds. i can't afford to think with such ironclad naivety. people are not infallible. funny as it is, i can't expect to find a squid pen, and no amount of determination can make tangible something that doesn't exist.
but the whale, above our heads, floated as lifeless and seemingly ordinary as a chandelier. a half idyllic half menacing scene at the bottom of the ocean. we laid underneath it and felt so small. our worries and problems themselves seemed even more infinitesimal. i pretended i was submerged underwater, letting all of my troubles disappear and become one with nature, and she was the only person who could listen to my thoughts.
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 1:23 AM UTC
I have a strange relationship with my across-the-street neighbor.
Every morning, after the coffee *** is brewing and the bed is made,
I enjoy a cigarette or two just outside the front door.
I look across the street and I see him.
Bearded, usually wearing a hoodie, sweatpants and slippers.
On a typical morning he is out before me, about half way through his cigarette.
Although I've lived across the street from him for the better part of two years, I do not know his name.
I know that he smokes Marlboro 100's, just from the way his pack, generally in his cigarette holding hand, looks.
I know he has a wife, and a what seems to be three year old daughter.
I love this man.
I love him and his wife and his daughter and his Marlboro 100's.
Every morning that I see him, it is a sign that I am awake, that this is all real.
For if I were to not wake my mind would not be so cruel as to trick me.
My mind would not be so cruel as to deceivingly use my only sense of comfort against me.
Before daylight savings so rudely interrupted my subconscious schedule, the sun would just creep above the low tree line behind the man's house as he put out his cigarette and go inside.
On some days, I imitate him shortly after, dropping my cigarette and returning inside.
On other days, days when I need all of the tobacco in my cigarette, which have been occurring more often than they used to, I follow him more slowly. I stay outside until the sun is completely out from behind the tree line. Some days, as was the case this morning, I need two cigarettes to properly prepare me for the day.
And on these days, the man returns outside, with his baby girl in his arms and his wife following behind.
They all pile into his grey Toyota pickup and are off.
Where to, I know not.
All I know is that I will see him tomorrow.
And I love him for that.
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 12:34 AM UTC
in the right corner of your room,
the white paint is peeling away,
to pick at it & watch the entire
thing collapse upon you.
much like the empty things i feel:
nothing but chipping little flakes;
fragile little waste that might
decorate the floor of your room,
naked walls enclose this empty space,
but confused excited atoms dance about ,
screaming at each other in a tongue
that I’ve never known nor care to.
cotton sheets, a sweet odor of skin,
*** oranges & things i can’t get across
cause the line is blocked, overloaded.
i want to; bring down the roof upon us
scratch, pick away, take parts from
the whole thing until it gives way
& submits to the overbearing weight
of unseen structural weaknesses
before being buried alive in this mess,
i’ll evacuate & leave behind this expanse
i’ve been squatting in since i first laid
my eyes upon your deceivingly lazy face.
(i’m not in the business of maintenance)
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 5:22 AM UTC
Mother spinster’s sporcy spindle spaed a specious spider splenetically spinning a sparkling specimen of the spired and spherically eggish; still though spinose although sporadic, seemingly soft, deceivingly so, sacred, secret special place to stave off such besetments!
Her enchantment’s curse, no less the worse, arachnid terse in webs of verse, or plainly verse we shall rehearse from high above to stage below or thought to hanging from strangely gallows, the sickly web a trap thus cloven of heaven’s weaver said to woven in all her life never betrothen, she cast aside all such resentments!
And so Old Mother Hubbard then went to the cupboard speaking her cursed ways…
Along came Ariadne, the spider beside thee, winding her spinning, pointing thus pinning upon her the blame for all days. With no voice to speak, evading flood did she seek, a way up from the sea on the laurels of Mother’s uprooted tree. So was it ended, uprooted, upended, the guilt, blame and controversy. Umun-Hubbur, Humwawa, Humbaba, star-weaver and Hubbard and Ariadne!
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 9:56 PM UTC
Deceivingly sweet, but I'm toxic
The poison will paralyze you
I'll spin my intricate web around your heart
Then **** your life & soul til you're blue.
The poison is subtle & works slowly
My web is soft & warm
You'll feel cozy & safe & complete
But my intentions are to harm.
If you think that you're immune
Stay
If you think you can escape my web & get
Away
I dare you
But be fairly warned
Either way
I'm going to hurt you.
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 7:04 AM UTC
glissade, tours jeté; poised and powerful
pirouette, sous-sus; humbling finesse
agility: deceivingly immortal
classsic elegance to encompass
enveloped audience, alluring physique
grande jeté, fluid grace, moving mystique
clean sauté arabasque; lissome wonder
sharp, precise, polished; she moves without blunder
Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 2:04 PM UTC
Beautiful brown eyes
The kind you fall into
The ones you get lost in
And realize you never want to escape from
Those dark lashes
Pulling you in
Luring closer to the eyes
Until nothing else exists
Eyes crowned by
Jet brows
Exquisite curve here
Complimentary arch there
Light, but deceivingly dark
Your skin's warm glow
Freckles
Abound.
Down an elegant nose
Dividing perfect from perfection
And here is that smile
That brightens my day
Effortlessly
Two beautiful rows
Beaming white sunshine
Back into my world
Inbetween
A subtle pink dart
That playful tongue
Silk
Soft
Lips
Slicked in Blistex
All framed
In ***** blond hair
I love it tousled.
Jul 3, 2010
Jul 3, 2010 at 1:30 AM UTC
sometimes
I have a million things to say
but
I just can't put them into words
they're thoughts that
float in my mind
distractingly
deceivingly
throwing my mental state into
a mayhem
Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 5:08 AM UTC
feel the
warm, drowsy
fingertips,
lackadaisically running trails
down your every corner
as their eyes
attempt to catch up
to the tired,
deceivingly excited hands
exploring every inch of you
trying to discover
what's hidden inside you,
the magic of the being
you pack away behind
predictable masks
and colorful spectacles
in an attempt
to distract
or take away from
what you worry
may not be enough,
may not be what
they wanted;
so you shove
forced color schemes
to safeguard yourself
from anyone considering,
let alone caring
to unravel
the contents
of the windowless box
you call a body;
so you sit still,
dormant
as the people around you
allow themselves
to be found,
though none of them felt lost,
and as you resign yourself,
resting in
the bittersweet feeling
of knowing that
nobody had the opportunity
to run their fingers
down your outside,
and slowly,
methodically,
realize what hides
under all of those
eye-catching aesthetics,
yet secretly wishing
that somebody would pick you up,
out from behind the crowd,
unprovoked,
to try and see
what lies within you;
and dear,
something that may
bring upon
a smile,
is that I do
want to have you
open up
just for me;
because, even if
I have nothing else
under the tree
just know
that your presence
is the only gift
that I need
Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 5:35 AM UTC
Her face, deceivingly empty, like that of a mask
Concealing what lies beneath
Her mask, carved from a slab of marble -
Cold, unyielding, stoic, unconquerable
She cowers behind it like a suit of armor
And brandishes it like a sword against anyone who threatens to come near
But in the darkness, she surrenders
The mask stripped away to reveal her in all nakedness
In solitude, she weeps
In solitude, she longs
In solitude, she succumbs to weakness -
Vulnerable, bare, exposed, trembling
Come daylight, the mask is on again
Deceivingly empty, concealing, hiding
Nobody sees beyond the mask
No one hears the silent cry or the whoop of elation
No one sees her eyes light up or witness her break down in grief
No one feels her longing, no one sees her pain
All they see is the mask.
Jun 7, 2010
Jun 7, 2010 at 2:56 AM UTC
I worry that the light
at the end of this
deceivingly long tunnel
may turn out to be
nothing but a little girl
with a lighter
whispering "sorry"
May 6, 2013
May 6, 2013 at 12:16 AM UTC
Can there be intimacy without proximity?
Empathy without vicinity ?
Can we live without touch,
keeping brothers out peripherally?
No, that path only leads deceivingly
further into living life more miserably
So rather than espousing self-sufficiency
let's discuss band of brotherly
A brother unity that unconditionally
maintains a mature masculinity
A unity revealing a core fragility,
yes - a humility that risks indignity
I'm talking about an increasing capacity
a growling capability
for actual manual connectivity
I'm calling for a comprehensive solidarity
that embraces fierce timidity
You see I stand against living artificially
I'm all for living purposely
Yes, I'm here loudly
Campaigning
Against anyone
Living
Miserably
Sep 7, 2019
Sep 7, 2019 at 4:32 AM UTC