"delightfully" poems
And if you are to love,
Love as the moon loves.
It doesn't steal the night,
It only unveils the beauty of the dark.
And if you are to love,
Love as the rain loves.
It doesn't wet the bodies,
It only washes the sad dirt of the souls.
And if you are to love,
Love as the wind loves.
It doesn't drift away,
It only cleanse you to the core by invading through each pore.
And if you are to love,
Love as the sun loves.
It doesn't radiates heat,
It only pours its warmth on you to enlighten your way.
And if you are to love,
Love as the star loves.
It doesn't delightfully twinkles,
It only reminds you that not even death can separate two hearts.
And so forth,
if you are to love
Love as the whole universe
& not just a part of it.
Mar 20, 2018
Mar 20, 2018 at 1:22 PM UTC
your best stuff will never be posted here
<>
***goose, you crack me up,
your bests stuffs can never be posted,
the tender stroke away of a child’s tear,
the welcoming of a smile delightfully unexpected,
a first grade art project so successful
it is mounted forever on a
front door Hall of Fame
a good cry all your own,
in private sobbing,
mouth mourning the absence of
a kiss on the back of your neck
shivers with surprising waves of pleasure,
that announces you are more than noticed
if you can post these stuffs,
call me asap,
because that’s the sight
I wanna see & be,
when only the best stuff you got given,
given got,
becomes real***
10:03am
4/11/19
Aug 24, 2019
Aug 24, 2019 at 2:16 PM UTC
In all my iterations, and my frequent reiterations,
Introspection reflection, run a muck, I find it unnecessary
To talk to God; the reason being quite simple, is
It and I are in constant dialogue, nary a pause, chattering
Round the clock, 24 seven, night and day, sleep interruptus,
I think to myself God has some nerve,
why can't he bother others?
in other parts of the world…
And so he does!
Visitors from far away lands, and languages I do not understand, but applaud their attempts to decipher the English one, that we share in common; if the lands are exotic, the names are more delightfully so, almost ****** It excites and titillates, to greet these kindred souls whose words be greeted by puzzlement, intrigue, like the delight of rediscovering vanilla, it's the same language spoken differently!
and god smiles and says:
"knew you would eventually speak my soul language!'"
Jul 29, 2025
Jul 29, 2025 at 11:23 AM UTC
Dear, let me startle you by slinking my hand into
your smart, ethical decisions while I touch
quite gently
ripping to shreds
your photon ends.
Dear, let me caress your supple virtues and vows
until they blow out of proportion
merging your interests with mine
like the longing of eyes
uncanny in its distortion.
Dear, let me rip off your clothes as I grip your tight notions
ideas slipping carefully into place
like a sterile, unflinching blank slate
inching towards computed devotion.
Dear, let me carry out some foreplay
as long as you bend, not break,
delightfully stroking the edge of your plate.
Dear, let me come so close to your face
so close that it becomes blurry.
Where are my glasses in all this flurry?
Of feelings resembling photo reels on fire
shooting flames out the window
beyond everything you’ve ever known;
beyond anything you desire.
Dear, let me kiss you to submission,
your brain waves in motion
as I twist and slip into them
hormones ablaze
lighting up for days
your synapses recapturing
in a binocular haze.
Dear, let me flop on top of you
like a floppy disk, uploading your lips
into my hardrive.
Do I make you hard as fire?
Slowing burning
my hot fingers curling
up your robust spine
cracking it into
chiropractor sublime.
Massaging your tired broad shoulders
like large sofa ends.
Is this keyboard only
made for pretend?
Dear, let me mind **** you
take you and light you
brighten your screen
uphold and unseen
neurons fighting as I whisper ***** words
directly into the folds of your tulip ears
too large to hear, and
Dear, let me engage my rage
into a productive haze
bolting out words, unheard of for days.
Dear, let us become undone together
like the battery of a computer
rebooting after a hectic hardware phase.
Dear, let us breathe and walk through this maze.
Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 11:33 AM UTC
In a last ditch effort, I
Spread myself thin, mistakenly
Dreaming up elephant scenarios.
Are you for real?
Because I think you just wished
Yourself into existence
Like a wooden puppet
With an existential nose.
Delightfully androgynous hobos
Light my days up
But I have no extra cash!
I am going to the races today
And I must bet on the winning horse.
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 4:14 AM UTC
Nero was not worried when he heard
the prophecy of the Delphic Oracle.
"Let him fear the seventy three years."
He still had ample time to enjoy himself.
He is thirty. More than sufficient
is the term the god allots him
to prepare for future perils.
Now he will return to Rome slightly tired,
but delightfully tired from this journey,
full of days of enjoyment --
at the theaters, the gardens, the gymnasia...
evenings at cities of Achaia...
Ah the delight of **** bodies, above all...
Thus fared Nero. And in Spain Galba
secretly assembles and drills his army,
the old man of seventy three.
4.4k
*standing on the threshold of change, I await a fresh-line
but the universe may be unready
if not, I may take to choppy-waters
all by myself*
1.
if we are all stuck in the jam of time
perhaps, if we spread it out real thin
some of us could actually lift off
and catch a ride.. out
free some hostage from the twisting temporal-joints
and the wool-gatherers mind their business
and footsore beggars dine on exotic-things
deep in the heart of the jungle
where Nebuchadnezzar parked his dreams of old
by saving your surprise for a weekday jaunt
we limp on in the vacant-dust of paradox
yet get unavoidably detained by the present
undo the ribbons and the package may unfold its.. things
espy the tick-tock riding the margin of fright
common sense of morn lies delightfully unfinished
and the wrong side of a bold idea gets squashed
the brain-weary ingest their lot and plough on through thickets of tricky-fate
while tiptoeing silent on the farthest-blades of brimstone
holding subtly aloft.. the frankness of aiding-spectres
2.
balloon of green, balloon of blue
hold out your hand and pray you get no inequalities of flame
easy catch of the sound of science scoffing in the parlour
when we try to do something different; take a chance
uncivilised-humour will argue the rings off your punctured-lobes
any germ of new plan must needs be nurtured
let any frenemy go; intolerant-ilk do better by their vacuous selves
remarkably convenient
there's almost enough water in the well
to soak up the ivory-rays and let them fly
and there's a breeze lifting the needle off the ancient-groove
spinning reels on the bay
*no, you will never convince me
that the time-keeper holds all keys
'cos I snuck out furtive.. late one night
and sawed through.. for a whole decade
and well, guess what I have here..*
:)
S T - 24 Jan 2014
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 8:24 AM UTC
G ~ Grandchildren bring us so much joy,
R ~ raising our spirits
A ~ and
N ~ nurturing our souls.
D ~ Delightfully embracing life.
C ~ Choosing to laugh rather than fret.
H ~ Healing our hearts with their
I ~ innocence of the divine kind.
L ~ Looking at the world with fresh eyes and
D ~ dreaming dreams of hope.
R ~ Reassuring us of all God's blessings,
E ~ everywhere in the small things and
N ~ nourishing us with their unconditional love.
Feb 15, 2011
Feb 15, 2011 at 12:24 PM UTC
I met you in the time between embers and aries
when the sky darkens early and the leaves decide to depart from branches
when the cold grey dreary fuels me emphatically
and the cold crispness reminds me I am so delightfully alive
In those fiery red orange embers to the grey bleak aries
was I thus enflamed and envigorated by you
When I met you in that time between embers and aries
and we traded soft whispers and heated glances,
salacious banter and satisfied stares
in that time between embers and aries
where I hungered for all of you
exuding avaricious energy
to slake myself with your scent
and delight in the way my fingers dance through your hair
and revel in the way I trace my desire across your skin
my embers and aries are stained with you
Nov 21, 2020
Nov 21, 2020 at 5:14 AM UTC
Dear, let me startle you by slinking my hand into
your smart, ethical decisions while I touch
quite gently
ripping to shreds
your photon ends.
Dear, let me caress your supple virtues and vows
until they blow out of proportion
merging your interests with mine
like the longing of eyes
uncanny in its distortion.
Dear, let me rip off your clothes as I grip your tight notions
ideas slipping carefully into place
like a sterile, unflinching blank slate
inching towards computed devotion.
Dear, let me carry out some foreplay
as long as you bend, not break,
delightfully stroking the edge of your plate.
Dear, let me come so close to your face
so close that it becomes blurry.
Where are my glasses in all this flurry?
Of feelings resembling photo reels on fire
shooting flames out the window
beyond everything you’ve ever known;
beyond anything you desire.
Dear, let me kiss you to submission,
your brain waves in motion
as I twist and slip into them
hormones ablaze
lighting up for days
your synapses recapturing
in a binocular haze.
Dear, let me flop on top of you
like a floppy disk, uploading your lips
into my hardrive.
Do I make you hard as fire?
Slowing burning
my hot fingers curling
up your robust spine
cracking it into
chiropractor sublime.
Massaging your tired broad shoulders
like large sofa ends.
Is this keyboard only
made for pretend?
Dear, let me mind **** you
take you and light you
brighten your screen
uphold and unseen
neurons fighting as I whisper ***** words
directly into the folds of your tulip ears
too large to hear, and
Dear, let me engage my rage
into a productive haze
bolting out words, unheard of for days.
Dear, let us become undone together
like the battery of a computer
rebooting after a hectic hardware phase.
Dear, let us breathe and walk through this maze.
Apr 24, 2018
Apr 24, 2018 at 10:49 AM UTC
Driving around this valley of sheets
When I see a IHOP and realize
that a sudden hunger has come over me
They say Come Hungry, Leave Happy, and
with one glance at your buns, perfectly made
I realize that I have been staring far too long.
Like Taco Bell, I should Think Outside The Bun
But as I pass a Burger King I begin to wonder
how many possible ways there really are
to Have It Your Way, and as I lay you down
I smile at the thought of how wonderful the taste
of each one of your Baskin Robbins 31 Flavors will be.
While I start to undress you I pause, hesitant
With your smile and slow rhythmic breaths
a song bursts into my head with a just one tip
as if I'm at Cold Stone, and I think, just Let Yourself Go.
"Where to start?" I ask as I glance up at Subway
and I am reminded that I should always Eat Fresh.
I should go in slow, but I dive right in like a bucket of KFC
The scent of you, so enticing. The taste, Finger Lickin' Good
I'll savor every moment, and by the subtle McDonald's arches
that your back resembles, I'm Lovin' It and so are you.
I grab a handful at ******* and realize that this poem
is Delightfully Tacky, Yet Unrefined. Nonetheless,
I can tell by the look in your eyes that you are ready
Asking the same question that they ask at Wendy's
Where's The Beef?
Mar 28, 2011
Mar 28, 2011 at 1:30 PM UTC
Belonging to no masters
Bowing to no shiny idol
Formed as crashing waves
Tsunami and the tidal
Freeing enslaved minds
Requiring no police
From simplistic limerick
To powerful treatise
Capable to be inclusive
of every type of mind
From hideously critical
To the wise and kind
Between sanity - insanity
The line delightfully blurs
A home for loony writers
Saboteurs and connoisseurs
Ignore at poetry's peril
This most mediocre rhyme
The more that verse is policed
The less that it will chime
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 7:30 AM UTC
Do you know what it means to have a moment encapsulated and remain enthralled with an utterance for what seems a century?
Or more?
It isn't your voice or your beleaguered indiscretion
it is not your rounded shoulders and body (language) speaking of consequential truths
its the way your words round my hard thoughts, softening and falling to slide off the firm curve of my breast.
Feeling each individual letter glide delightfully around my mouth
after being in yours
and I taste something new amid
a festival of enunciation.
There is false bravado in me and you
slip it off, along with my clothes.
I'm left naked and shy
almost hiding now, what I previously
wanted to share so much.
Almost, as your tender words guide an
embrace
I fall in love for the first time with a word
knowing you can only ever possess me physically.
Sep 20, 2010
Sep 20, 2010 at 8:17 PM UTC
The old oak tree grew at the edge,
of an orchard where little ones play,
and there lived a mage,
who hears trees on a windy day,
Rushing wind rustles leaves,
on that one day brilliant and bright,
With amber gold autumn grandeur on display,
singing tuneful songs delightfully light and gay,
Apple trees trilling events as mysterious as night,
Of love found and lost last May.
Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 8:12 AM UTC
A painted mirror
With the image of love
Only intended to show her exterior
No matter the size of the shove
They pick spitefully
Tossing flecks of dried work
But she responds oh so delightfully
Forgetting her crafted worth
Born to show others an image they'd like to perceive
Dead to have not even the maker grieve
Jul 16, 2018
Jul 16, 2018 at 10:13 PM UTC
Oh swaying willow tree
lower your branches cover me.
I am so cold without thee.
You're so green and gentle..
give me oxigen and shade,
you bow down gently
as in reverence yet detached
I feel more than gratitude
I too am detached as breeze!
In wonderment of your face
feel my breeze under
your starry sky
You like a hungry kitten
sensing timing to run for it
may it be that my pyramid's
wise winds shake your trunk,
to leaveless ****
blushing in your branches?
Are your hidden
fruits any ripe
you do sway delightfully
My frozen cocoone is detached
my tiny feet from my butterfly
might slightly tickle your fancy
as I voraciously neeble on
your green golden leaves?
will you fear my strong breeze
wild Autumn winds
as your branch may get
detached.?
~~~~~.
By;Mr and Mrs Andrews.
With Karijinbba.
Sep 18, 2021
Sep 18, 2021 at 8:20 PM UTC
Her spirit shines of skittles
The flavors you taste on a tropical island
Her soul is made of the first blanket of snow
Cold, but gleams so delightfully in the sunlight
When I look at her this is what I see
Something that I could never be
She’s a magnet to the people around her
Fixed like a child to their mother
A fire so easily contained
She cannot be tamed
Nor does she belong in a cage
The purest warmth you cannot disobey
I promise not to control it
I promise I won’t try to tame it
The fire inside of me is abstract to yours
It’s already ignited a forest to flames
A monster that I created
A fog rampant all around me
Rehabilitate my spirit
Teach me how to add color to my bleak existence
Jan 24, 2019
Jan 24, 2019 at 9:24 AM UTC
A Beautiful and A Bitter Shroud
When I was little, I found a magic box,
tucked under the eaves where
we were told not to go.
Something compelling about the
forbidden, triangular space,
sealed off by lath and plaster,
made me resolved, beyond curious.
I kicked and pulled until plaster shattered
and wood cracked, delightfully.
The large box was filled
with silk, organza and tulle,
the proud-worn gowns
of my mother's college days.
At those ***** she danced
in them, hair coiled up
and earrings sparkling.
It was not about the men, I knew,
but her need to be admired.
I don't recall a punishment
for opening the box
but she relented and allowed
my sister and I to put on
her finery and pretend.
We wrapped them round us
and twirled to imaginary waltzes,
stepping on long hems so many times
that the gowns all came undone.
The rags were put away
and the room sealed up.
In my youth I recall but a few
times Mother gave in
and let us be children
or fairy princesses for a while.
Now she is old and finally
trying to wrap me in her shroud,
to make resentment drag me down
and envy of me, crippled with self-hate.
But that no longer works
and I tell her, finally grown
that this is not allowed.
I summon up pity and vague sympathy,
even if love left long ago.
I tell myself that
everyone dies alone.
Apr 3, 2022
Apr 3, 2022 at 4:16 PM UTC
The light dapples in
Throwing odd shadows
On the plastic surrounding me.
Like a strange sunset put there
To taunt my eyes
Each droplet of water
Is another arrow
Shooting new spikes of pain
Through my body
Hundreds
Thousands
Millions of drops
Per second
Splash onto my skin.
1,000
2,000
I could have avoided the pain
I could have stopped this
Not going to the beach
Not going on that walk
But oh, I would not take it back.
Not one second.
Every
Happy
Minute was another
Happy
Memory
To add to my collection
And even
As I lay here
Rivulets of water
Washing down my red skin
I am making another.
You tease me
Like some cruel trickster
Happiness
Dripping down my back
Turned to cruel
Twisted
Pain
Running up my spine like a knife.
Oh, blissful pain
Would that I could feel
You to your full relevance
Instead, you trip over me
Leaving pain in your wake.
Like a torture machine.
This feels so bad
But so good.
Once the water is freed
From the contraption shooting it
Like a pistol in my heart
Onto my skin
It rebels against its maker
And trickles delightfully across me, sending delightful shivers
Into me
Only to betray me again.
Oh, sweet treasure
Would that your painful side were invisible
So
I
Could sleep
Once
Again.
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 11:19 PM UTC
It's the Grim Reaper
It's the Boogie Man
It's the wolf in the closet
It's the monster under the bed
It's the phantom that's chasing you in your dreams
It's the madman who dances delightfully in your brain matter
It's the poison in your coffee
Paralyzing
Petrifying and penetrating
A flesh eating
Bone chomping
Soul *******
Grave robbing Ghoul
Right within the halls of your head
Grotesque and greedy, it is
Gloom everywhere
An anxiety production line
Breeding anguish
Bleeding you out
Windpipe choking
Werewolf watching
Witches brewing
It's dreadful and dooming
It's horror at every corner
It's a newspaper dripping in disaster
It's a future forecasting fatalities
Your obituary in every new edition
BUT IT'S NOT REAL
Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 11:56 AM UTC
You are like a beauty contest
Where nobody is keeping score.
The clothes make you beautiful
But I like you naked even more.
You’re a hot hunk of manhood
From your hairline to your boots
And you look a lot better naked
Than some men look in suits.
Yeah, I have to admit it here
It was your looks caught my eye
But as time went by I discovered
There was much more to you, guy.
There’s poetry and wit and then
That ever present sense of fun.
At first it was just infatuation;
A fan sitting close to the stage.
But later it turned into something
Beyond a **** picture on a page.
I found out there was more to you
Than the beauty that stops hearts.
There is something special there
That sets you delightfully apart.
So, I hope I can be forgiven
For being such a rabid fan.
I have excellent taste in things
Like the looks of a hot man.
I have heard so many call you
One hot, **** son of a gun.
Of the members of your fan club
I’m sure I am your number one.
Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 11:18 PM UTC
Three delightfully key words: 'miser miserable able' - One's miserable from being a miser until he's finally able.
Jul 6, 2010
Jul 6, 2010 at 2:15 AM UTC
all at once, and little by little, i fell in love. for the first time in my life, it didn't feel like something i needed to force or prove. it simply was. is. and thinking about her, us, the simple, the fun, and the delightfully mundane fills my heart to burst in a way that feels like a secure embrace and a soft kiss on my forehead. i love the sound of her voice, her long-winded stories, and her goofy laugh that betrays the surliness she'd sometimes feign to avoid feeling too much, too quickly. i am seen and heard and loved and valued, and it feels so effortless. never in my days did I imagine wanting to cheerlead and love and support someone so fully, to point it inward and treat myself the same. blues and greens and purples and pinks have never been brighter to me, saturated by the richness of each tender brush stroke in our ongoing tapestry. i love being in love and i love the woman that taught me how to eat the sun and let it go before the moon can miss it.
Mar 8, 2024
Mar 8, 2024 at 4:39 AM UTC
How does one describe something that has so much more meaning than anything there has ever been?
I am not able to have one underlying emotion for art.
I am not sure there even is one emotion that i have not faced when
I make, take in, or feel some type of art.
It is everything to me.
"Art is the only way to run away without leaving home."
When I make any piece of artwork, it takes me away,
and I have never had that feeling other than when
I have a paintbrush or pencil between my fingers.
When i need to stop my own little world and get away from everything, I make something.
Art seems to be the only form of communication
I desire to use when showing emotions.
I get anxiety when i have to show so much vulnerability as to do something as simple as /talking/ to someone about my problems.
If I could just show someone my artwork instead of speak,
I would choose that any day.
"She is delightfully chaotic;
a beautiful mess.
Loving her has been a splendid adventure."
I guess in some ways i see art as a person.
The only true love I have ever really felt would be with art.
I have been hurt many times and I have always
turned to art because of it.
Shes always been there for me,
while others have let me down time after time again.
Yet she waits there patiently everyday
until I pick up the sketchbook
and draw.
Jan 13, 2017
Jan 13, 2017 at 2:58 PM UTC
Will you be the queen to my castle?
Just like the moon completes the sky,
Will you be the light that guides me
Through the shadows of the night?
Will you look me in the eye and promise me delightfully
That I'm the best you'll ever see?
Will you be the bead to my bracelet?
Threaded through the string of life,
An anchor of pure investment
Will you be the playful wind that tangles through my hair
That would never let me live in despair
For I've been already there,
Running away from the things I mostly cared
So will you be The queen to my castle?
Will you let me embrace you with my fortress walls?
Will you let me hold you close and never say goodbye?
Will you stay, or will you leave?
Will i be abandoned, like the hundred times before ?
Or will I finally have-
A queen to my castle?
Nov 1, 2024
Nov 1, 2024 at 10:20 PM UTC