"diffident" poems
man (?)
the tomatoes?
patty m.,
a grievous error thy commissioned
tomatoes are the quintessential feminine fruit
red juicy, round, curvy, sweet
with a flavor at once the same,
yet never again always different, diffident,
asized, and blonde or red, never contrived
without it,
would pizza be pizza?
without it,
would **** ***** love,
be merely a good salad
or a poem
ever be the same?
“me love tomatoes”
cookie monster
Apr 19, 2018
Apr 19, 2018 at 11:33 AM UTC
I go up
Then go down
My head is spinning around
First I'm gregarious
Then I'm diffident
Chaos starts to begin
As new pages rip in
I get irascible
When people ask me questions
I'm an emciated person
With stress going about
With this bipolar linking on
Tears begin to crowd
To a laughter if mismaze
My relationships are hard
For I cannot keep one
For this bipolar is to strong
I wish I could be normal
And not take pills
But bipolar has controlled me
To my birth to my will
I will have it till the end
Till I'm old and grey
It's going to be a part of me
Forever and today
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 1:34 PM UTC
I fell in love with every single morning
How you rolled out of bed after you shut your alarm off for the sixth time
How your eyes and voice revealed exhaustion but also so much love
The way your hands would grasp each side of my face
While your lips would steal the endings of my sentences
And a smile would form on my face effortlessly
Every single day with you felt like a week of saturday mornings
With clean bed sheets and lazy smiles
Every single morning
I would fall in love with the way you would drink your coffee
And smoke your cigarette
And even how you would stand in the doorway of your closest
Somewhere between falling in love with our midnight conversations
That were exhaled through cigarette puffs
And interrupted by loving embraces
As I would secretly read the love notes
You would write on my flesh every chance you got
I realized I was in love with the presence of your words
And the feeling of your existence
Especially when your arms were wrapped tightly around my diffident body
But I do not think I was ever in love with you
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 8:49 PM UTC
Postpone not a good deed due to laziness
That temperament will spoil your mission
Always punctually execute your decision
This will help you a lot in life and business
Any good intention must be soon acted upon
Before your mind makes a negative move
Your worth, only your deed will finely prove
Wisely use the opportunity before it is gone
While taking steps, difficulties will crop up
But, we should not lose heart feeling diffident
We must face all the blocks feeling confident
Without playing, how to aim for the golden cup?
Life means only problems and lots of troubles
Happiness may show its face occasionally
Our happiness alone must triumph finally
Due to will-power, troubles become bubbles
Concentrate to achieve the desired result
Let determination be exercised in full swing
Glory and success, only hard-work will bring
Efforts alone tie achievements to one's belt.
mvvenkataraman
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 10:33 AM UTC
Touch me not say the morning due to the sunrise disappearing as the sun grew
Touch me not say the coconut tree with its fruits hanging aloof,
Touch me not say the frog with bright red spots corking under the Buttress roots,
Touch me not says the indulging and then eluding dreams.
Touch me not says the maiden, playfully resisting her lover’s every move
Touch me not say the open shore to the teasing ocean waves,
Touch me not say the blood colored fruit to the naive traveler,
Touch me not say the blazing sun to Icarus, son you can’t fly to the sun,
Touch me not says the peeved kid pouting and showing it’s irk.
Touch me not says the volcano, feigning to be at rest
Touch me not says the deranged dog, to anyone who dare to come nearer
Touch me not says the humble cosmos, hiding all its beauty on a dark and cloudy night
Touch me not says the hissing cobra, I can **** an elephant.
Touch me not says the steaming ice
Touch me not says the thorny bushes,
Touch me not says the porcupine,
Touch me not says the diffident butterfly
Touch me not says the poet, can’t you see i am working i can’t be in distress
Touch me not, touch me not I am fine ……
Dec 20, 2011
Dec 20, 2011 at 3:41 PM UTC
Who knows what losses
this infinitely rich
and resilient heart has suffered?
The sorrowful splendor of the Earth --
its endless cycle of gestation
and bringing forth,
its eternal season of becoming
and decay --
inspires and beckons her silent musings.
And her muted passion,
burning with the
mesmerizing ardor of the innocent,
awakens a diffident adoration
in the bickering brood that surrounds her.
How beleaguering they are!
these driven ones, so eager
to possess the elusive beauty
that stirs the dark, enigmatic
depths of their harried souls.
*** unwitting they are!
those dreary ones...
Destiny has drawn them
to the shimmering, diaphanous aura
of her breathless presence.
And destiny will drain them
like a brimming chalice,
so full of their impetuous blindness.
For they will never see
how she is set apart
by the wandering, restive vision
of the chosen.
But I see her,
standing alone on the fringe
of the tumultuous herd.
She gazes at me with
that subtle, sacred smile,
and I feel the threatening,
familiar forces of the universe descend --
Jacob
wrestling with the angel of authenticity.
She gazes at me,
and in the still light
of that impenetrable look...
the silence speaks!
I tremble in anticipation.
I listen and am fed.
For Laura.
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 4:01 PM UTC
What I have is a pitch
angled at nothing
and I envy the limber crowd of bees,
and I envy the spider’s easy meal.
The low hum of a wash cycle
competes with, then dislodges my dirge,
gradually builds a golden,
natural looking wan expression.
Diffident? Go out and meander
content to accept the indifference of meaning.
This walk is not a protest.
This work was only ever play.
Suitable for all skin types
our explanations can’t help themselves,
run like British accents on trade
and explain away any need for help.
Non-streaking conceits
you know best how much you are worth.
Oct 23, 2016
Oct 23, 2016 at 9:02 AM UTC
The time of year has grown indifferent.
Mildew of summer and the deepening snow
Are both alike in the routine I know:
I am too dumbly in my being pent.
The wind attendant on the solstices
Blows on the shutters of the metropoles,
Stirring no poet in his sleep, and tolls
The grand ideas of the villages.
The malady of the quotidian . . .
Perhaps if summer ever came to rest
And lengthened, deepened, comforted, caressed
Through days like oceans in obsidian
Horizons, full of night's midsummer blaze;
Perhaps, if winter once could penetrate
Through all its purples to the final slate,
Persisting bleakly in an icy haze;
One might in turn become less diffident,
Out of such mildew plucking neater mould
And spouting new orations of the cold.
One might. One might. But time will not relent.
1.7k
Ambiguous propaganda seeps paranoia
into crevasses of budding knowledge,
spawning hordes of diffident souls
that cower behind the Aegis
of altruistic motives.
Self preservation clings
to pragmatic love
and delayed satisfaction,
while enthusiasts of law
leech gold from delicate
words left unsaid.
The expense of insuring hope
dooms creative anomalies
to tedious and ceaseless
indentured servitude.
And the day split-lip parasites
swarm like Death to claim souls,
the only cure
will waste away final days in
an attempt to prolong them.
Dec 7, 2010
Dec 7, 2010 at 2:00 PM UTC
He called me dense
It still sticks to me
Not because
I'm hurt
or anything
But because,
I find it funny
I don't think I am
I do notice things around me
Honestly though,
half the time
it's a real pain to be
aware of everything
I know what I need to
I focus on what I deem important
Yet...maybe my lack of societal awareness
has dubbed me dense?
I certainly do sport a happy go lucky attitude
Often childish
Book smart,
but often confused
seeming
And I certainly do have
the annoying habit of people pleasing
while being shy
and diffident
at times
It's funny
I almost feel smarter with myself
When I'm with others
self-consciousness
self-doubt
social anxiety
naturally takes hold
It sometimes places me
in the role of under dog
Or is it dark horse?
The one,
who surprisingly pulls through
Surprisingly,
has abilities
I'm a little bit like a wave I suppose
On a stormy night
Lashing this way and that
as I please
Sometimes broken down
other times mowing my way through
So, maybe I am dense
Maybe I'm not
I don't know
Life...
can be described by many adjectives
But, let me keep mowing through
On my own merry way
Chugging like,
as my little brother would say,
A chu chu train
Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 9:41 PM UTC
He can say it,
he can flaunt it,
he can live it,
he can walk it,
while talking it.
If his heart is changed, it will not beat different,
If he has become less arrogant and more diffident,
Time will tell.
I will not judge the change,
I will not think it strange,
if he found Jesus.
The other option is Hell.
Let that rest heavy on his brow,
how is his head hanging, can he
feel the heat of remorse?
Her friends are heroes in my books,
you had the courage it took.
To face him on her behalf,
She was there with you in court,
I think she helped you to do,
no I am wrong,
you were all strong,
and you saw an innocent perish,
that screamed of unfairness and death,
you all stood up for her,
it may not have seemed enough,
as she did die, did part of you go with her?
we cannot measure how much you
all cried, when doing and trying was not enough.
The best place for her would be with you, sigh,
some say she will always be watching over too.
I believe in eternal life for innocents like her.
Jun 28, 2013
Jun 28, 2013 at 12:50 AM UTC
How Can You Stand To Love Me?
How Come,
You Want To Hold My Already Tainted Body?
How Can You Stand To Look In,
Eyes Which Are Covered With A Film Of Tears?
How Can You Stand To Try To Figure Out,
This Enigma Called Sydney?
I'm Two Faced,
Yet You Kiss Both,
You Make Me Want To Lose Myself,
And Let The Other Part Of Me Break Free,
Though I Will Always Reign Myself,
And I Sit With My Head Held High,
With That Glittery Golden Crown,
Yet How Can You Love This Semi-Barbaric Queen,
Surreptitious In Anguish,
Untrusting And Diffident?
You've Crushed Me,
But I Was Malleable And You Resculpted Me,
You Left Behind A Few Pieces,
Yet How Can You Stand To Love Me?
Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 8:15 AM UTC
With weary frankness I lean into
Evenings diffident shadows,
Wavering hues, grays and blues
Peering between the cloistered stars:
Endless dream I forgot how to navigate
Encompassing moments built by tidal movements
And sudden divisions between orbital shells
Inertial havoc starts the blood rushing
The world's a quagmire of uninhabited space
With lonely islands of pulsating matter
Suns unnumbered, rippling the waves collapse
Take all my heartbeats too, that as I languish,
The resonance might start another avalanche
The fiery, seeding vacuum of dawns early light,
That old magician's hat trick.
But be merciful to me, centrifugal womb of time;
Both the product and the witness
The sum of the totality only here, only this, only now-
This forever world, always just on the brink
Of breaking into a hundred thousand new worlds,
From insignificance multiplied
Far beyond any meaningful purpose:
For nobody controls even one solitary particle down here.
Apr 20, 2010
Apr 20, 2010 at 1:06 PM UTC
She is the stained girl, a diffident dreamer
Who looks for the sun and the rain together
Her panache is to craft blissful memories
Festooned with vivid thoughts, her accessories
She is the stained girl, a feeble believer
Who relies on a happy ever after
Yet scared to be seen from her cheerful facade,
Something that would charge her of being a fraud
She saunters in the midst of the piqued storms
Resounding the hues of the jaundiced norms
Like a bird highlighted with vibrant plumes
To fly around the walls of perplexing rooms
She wears the best maquillage, old and new
To make everyone away from being blue
She offers her hair, those gilded strands
Yet they exploit her gift with their vicious hands
She is the stained girl who seeks for uprightness
Yet pain has shaped her with creased faithfulness
In front of a looking glass, there I see
That magnificent, stained girl looks like me.
Mar 18, 2016
Mar 18, 2016 at 9:53 AM UTC
Share with me
your words
Make me know the face
The gaping hands
the sunkissed skin
The unwashed hair
the broken feet
Though not enough
(my will still evident)
There is another way-
Make me Thomas
and ask but thrice
That I may explain a doubt yet compromised:
That a fancy took a man
To pardon villains and condemn the saved
Adopting eleven (add a twelfth for foster care)
then spurning more
First the rich, then his junkies
And any prone to bore
He demanded death to dare refrain
Not from himself, but from the dead
To leave the weary to his hands
and the broken to his feet.
And the rest is simply religion.
So I must question (my doubt detailed)
That such a man as this
could praise your name
and call you Father.
That he would tread Calvary alone
To claim you goodness, kindness, self-control
To be the scapegoat for your sins
To be the price upon your head
and die
and live again.
And still, you let the world devour itself to darkness.
And still, you suffocate this faith.
This mustard seed.
So I bargain this:
Let also the diffident move mountains
Let also the lost find shelter
Let also the dead have hope
As once was promised.
And then
only then
will I call upon Your name
and wait.
Jul 7, 2011
Jul 7, 2011 at 5:21 PM UTC
So uncomfortable in my own skin
Walking through this empty place
Flat, no hills, no valleys
Just grass
I come to a well and in it is me
I see myself and ask myself questions
Why am I here?
As I stare at myself I can feel a new set of eyes on me
I turn and there is me again.
Why am I here?
A third set of eyes snaps to me and yet again it is me.
That same old reflection of insecurity.
Why so insecure?
Why am I here?
So quickly a new set of eyes gazes upon me and then off of me
Holding nothing but my insanity as a constant reminder of the grotesqueness of my character.
The well’s bucket holding my heart;
I looked at it.
And what a surprise a picture of me.
The well asks me why I am here.
I reply with a shrug.
Indifferent of the situation I walk.
Seeing myself everywhere now.
Why am I here?
I come to a different person, but all of my qualities reflected off of her.
Haunting me to my extent, I *****
For I do not deserve this.
I’ll just give in.
The bitter sweetness of her presence is enough to be fatal.
Looking in her eyes I see my sorrowful and diffident self.
I give in and turn slowly towards the well…
I walk to that well…
I take the bucket off the string and pour out my own heart and listen to it splash at the bottom….
Tie my knot…
And hang myself…
Why was I there…?
Dec 20, 2012
Dec 20, 2012 at 11:57 PM UTC
With parted lips,
I draw in your sweet psyche--
all opaque and smoky--
as these placid, sober feelings swim,
verdant and gentle,
through twisting tendrils.
Still thawing and diffident from the flux
of our individual nuclear winters:
flakes of former selves
fall around us, formless,
flailing cold
to sting our entangled skin,
valleys where I end and you begin.
I exhale you again,
you are lasting in my veins.
Enticing fervor once hidden in marrow,
I am enlivened by the dreamy exaltation
of my breaths back into you.
Suddenly, all is warm.
Dec 17, 2012
Dec 17, 2012 at 10:40 PM UTC
Couldn’t sleep last night
so I did the next best thing
and quaffed caffeine until
cerebral vasoconstriction
set in
I think
I know I have always been embarrassed to be me
but I guess
if nothing else
Humiliation breeds diffident dissonance humbly so
so foggy up here
a tad bit soggy,
saturated with my diseased anatomical atoms
my dendrites retreating
softening like rotting fruit
so much potential so little actualization
synapses overloaded
with drugs
that I didn’t know
Like the lone tree in the farthest forrest
dendritic pestilence is high and corrosive
I’m high and corrosive
and
I sigh for the lovers that never knew I loved them.
I miss the lovers that I never knew I loved.
and
I love the lovers who didn’t don’t and wont love me.
Couldn’t sleep last night
so I did the next best thing
and mirrored the rain until
pillows were
sponges
I think
I know I have always wanted to be caressed slightly
but I guess
if nothing else
creation breeds ****** succulence cunningly so
so sticky down here
a tad bit rickety,
saturated with my diseased anatomical atoms
my elevated coronary coronated erosion
sputters like a misused Porsche
911
so much beauty so little left
arteries caked
with yesterday’s cigarette
that let me let go.
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 9:57 AM UTC
Mary Jane
Seducer of young men and women.
Shaking hands at ten bucks a pop,
Then pulling them in to an embrace they cannot escape from.
Even if they'd wanted to.
You are the green outsides when
Their insides are blue.
You promise them solution,
relief.
But rarely follow through.
YOU are something I despise.
And I,
am not just some prep.
Some pot-head-hating *****
who knocks it before she's tried.
I tried,
to hang on, that is.
While you pulled them away from me.
I'll never forget the look in her too-red eyes
when she told me I couldn't stay.
That she'd made other plans that day.
That day and every other from then on.
I could smell your perfume tangled in her hair.
When she hugged me good bye.
That's twice now.
Twice now you stole my best friend
With promises of popularity and good humor.
That's twice you ripped out my heart.
Twice too many times.
I've written sobering rhymes against you.
And they were not the first.
I know I can't blame you, completely.
You didn't take their names.
You didn't make them make the choice,
You didn't force their voice to strip me down to tears.
And you didn't tell me to say no, when I had the chance
To dance with you.
But you gave them the option to,
All the while,
Whispering sweet nothings into their ears.
Pulling at their fingertips.
Promising gifts you could not guarantee.
And last night,
I could taste you on his lips.
I could see your shadow forming in his lungs
As he spoke.
So, Mary Jane.
I am begging you.
Please.
Don't.
Don't show him that their is no other lover better than the company of you.
Don't show him the side of you that only
One who'd tried it could know
And let him love it.
I don't think I could take another blow
of your breath in my face,
If,
...when...
With diffident intentions,
He turns away.
May 4, 2012
May 4, 2012 at 12:15 PM UTC
Encased smoothed wrought to new
Axiomatic taken to within
Effort yearned cognizant
waiting for the monest of solitude
broken away from demure
Found anew expressed outsplendor
Turned to diffident through omnipotence
obsolete in disguise from degregation
Nov 23, 2010
Nov 23, 2010 at 12:24 AM UTC
Last few days at school,
where saplings grew as flowering plants,
aroused sentiments and camaraderie,
friends became relatives, teasers- mates.
.
First and last day in college,
turned to be morning to noon.
Diffident souls of first day left as inflated balloons,
being wiser and bolder to fathom the sky.
Memory laden last days are deciduous trees,
We rejoice when it's green again.
3rd March 2017
Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 9:19 AM UTC
She was
not old enough
to have graduated
high school,
nor aware enough to
notice
how many eyes were on her,
sympathetic or
disdainful or
hungry,
as she struggled to push a cart full of
pull-ups
and cleaning supplies
in a cart with a broken wheel
through the warm and somniferous glow
of ill-maintained streetlights,
those obelisks of granite.
Don't call it
pity,
but
something
stirred my gut,
and burned my eyes,
as she trudged past me,
pushing a cartload of motherhood,
trailing a warm autumn breeze,
an aromatic telegram;
lilac and lavender,
a diffident bouquet,
accented by spritely vanilla,
withering before bleach-fumes
and mordant disinfectant.
Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 7:16 PM UTC
Granted this name
I wear it proudly on my sleeve
Finding out what exactly it means to be me
May be a little diffident
At a moment, shy and timid
At others, loud and obnoxious
Understanding that you may not understand me
Applying that to my gifts
Working with my hands
Even the smallest doodle
Can be the greatest creation
May 26, 2010
May 26, 2010 at 1:07 PM UTC
And then...
A diffident embrace,
Hankered after bedeviled yearning.
Instead, butterfly kisses,
She planted 'pon breathless lips;
Scarved my neck
And schlepped,
Into mystery miles of misty memories...
But now...
That yesterday lingers forever,
Leaving evocative footprints
Left behind by flirtatious fragrance,
That oft beguile my pathway,
Into memories of her;
Whence fantasy atones reality...
May 14, 2016
May 14, 2016 at 10:34 AM UTC
I see worlds of demons and villians as I take my last breath
I avidly add adages to the words that I press
Each and everyday strewn and littered with stress
Life’s just a savage game of chess
A new beginning has been presented
With her gone it’s like I’m living out a life sentence
Never again will a person so perfect be invented
She truly had an awe inspiring presence
48
Living life with a newfound belligerence
Like a high off of ten different barbiturates
Today’s generation is filled with complete ignorance
This cypher shall be thy deliverance
Since her death I’ve been nothing but diffident
Like a lost dog, I’m timid
People have always seen me as quite different
But to that opinion, I’m indifferent
48
Life is all about mind over matter
Look at the wall covered with your brain splatter
On some Ice-T **** rhymes that blow your mind
True love is hard to find
Do you live life as you want to
Or do you follow everything society tells you
In the end society will destroy you
No matter what, stay true
48
Just rolled up, five & dime
Every morning, rise and grind
Now I’m flying away with Peter Pan
Gone, gone, gone away, Never Land
So here’s to another day
Another coffin rots away
Life’s just a game we play
Until God takes us away
48
Tomorrow is not a guarantee
When my mind is my purgatory
No soul can control me
Your word’s do nothing for me
Now you’re saying I’m your salvation
Who the hell are you? What’s your relation
I miss seeing her eyes ablaze with elation
Her death was my inevitable damnation
48
No matter where I am, I’m writing a verse
I’ve seen too many loved ones dead in a hearse
My heart golden, but my blood’s black
My thoughts stretch to oblivion, like you leg on the torture rack
Is this where I belong?
This is only the beginning, not a swansong
I’m bound to be bigger than King Kong
Free my mind, get ***** eyed like Cheech & Chong
48
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 5:43 PM UTC