"diminished" poems
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one leg up of a
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upon which all,
we, enthroned poets,
the world-over,
do rule
the honor you
bequeath me
to be,
a first follower,
your very own
first responder,
it, cannot be
disdained
nor
diminished
this instance,
this birth,
a novice revival,
heart transplant,
makes it
the sweetest blessing
to be the first—
let us be
the quencher
of a desert thirst so long
in the parching,
the throat burning,
by a desert sojourning,
of a now ending
forty times
four hundred years
so come to me!
message me a message,
find me a find,
your poem fine,
so now we vow,
our embrace will
ne’er be broken
give me this
honorific!
let us together
be terrific,
raise our glasses,
with arms entwined
toasting you and
all that mind and
breasted chest of yours,
full bursting from
its future~contains,
of which,
its full release,
brings a fuller life
for us both
I am a father.
I am a grandfather.
I am a First Follower.
and a First Responder,
for all who needs a leg up,
so step upon my heart,
it be but a first step upon a
ladder with no top, no end ensighted
my legs are as old as time, but,
measure me not by the rings and
the metered scales of gray hair aging,
shock of white, a cain mark, wizard-wizened
but
by the muscles
of my deep affection,
the solemnity of this,
my irrevocable promise
this,
the blessing
we both make and earn,
when you write,
and while we wait,
in quiet attendance -
for all of your good works,
your kept promises
Blessed
are You Lord our God,
Ruler of the Universe
who has given us life,
sustained us until now,
***allowing, allying, and
alloying***
the treader of treacherous waters,
reader, writer, swimmer,
to reach, meet, embrace
and greet this day,
this new born poem,
with hallelujahs
whispering and shoutings
together,
as one
in one, of one,
one
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 1:11 PM UTC
We are the people that you created.
A generation going nowhere.
We are the kids that you hate.
Brought up by fear and paranoia.
The technology era,
distinguished by guns and violence.
Raised and spoiled;
aggression and hate the new emotions.
Alienated from each other.
Passion and empathy completely diminished.
A dystopian world,
ruled by liars and thieves.
Pain is coupled with pleasure.
Angst and depression consuming the minds.
Break away from the hate.
Become a better generation.
We are not the nowhere kids.
Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 4:32 AM UTC
The scorching of the sun diminished
Black clouds fluffed up the skies
Thunders and lightning hit the drums of change
New winds have traversed in
And the trees danced to their gushy choir
Pearls of rain drops fell down to earth
And the sands have welcomed them with joy
Behold! I have arrived.
The monsoon said.
Jun 28, 2016
Jun 28, 2016 at 1:13 PM UTC
Let's hold out hope for the crippled.
Hope for the crippled?
No thanks, this crip doesn't need your hope.
This crip needs you to stop.
Stop labeling me.
Stop feeling sorry for me.
Stop pitying me and my 'poor life'
Just ******* stop!
No, really, I'm okay. I don't need you.
I don't need you or your miracles.
Don't tell me God works miracles
And to hold out hope
Because maybe one day I'll walk
Or maybe I'll get to see from both eyes
Because God works miracles
But you're too busy fixing what isn't broken that you forget
If I was truly made in his image this crip doesn't need healed.
This crip doesn't need your prayers or miracles.
This crip doesn't need your God or your salvation.
This crip doesn't need your hope.
Poor soul, she's diminished by her disability.
Diminished by my disability?
The only thing I'm diminished by
Is your inability to understand
That before anything else I am human.
I make mistakes and have flaws.
I feel, probably more than most,
And sometimes those feelings get in the way.
I empathize but I am done sympathizing.
You say my wheelchair is a blessing in disguise.
Why can't it just be a blessing?
A blessing that comes with lots of lessons.
Some that I learn the hard way and some that come easy.
But this wheelchair doesn't need a reason
To teach me (or you) a lesson.
Sure, it frustrates me when a wheel breaks or I fall on a broken sidewalk
But it teaches me humility and patience.
And there's no reason to disguise that this wheelchair is a blessing.
So, please take your hope and pity
Your guilt and salvation elsewhere
Because they're defeating the purpose. They're detracting from the point.
I am not diminished by my disability.
I am not to be quieted or pitied
I am not your reason to feel guilty
I am not a burden
I am human.
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 1:37 AM UTC
We are the people that you created.
A generation going nowhere.
We are the kids that you hated
Brought up by fear sinking lower
The technology era,
distinguished by guns and violence.
Raised and spoiled
telling us silence
Alienated from each other.
Passion and empathy completely diminished.
A dystopian world,or another
word unfinished
ruled by liars and thieves.
the government is like a
tree with falling leaves
Break away from the hate.
Become a better generation.
Before it’s to late
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 7:00 PM UTC
This trumpeter of nothingness, employed
To keep our reason dull and null and void.
This man of wind and froth and flux will sell
The wares of any who reward him well.
Praising whatever he is paid to praise,
He hunts for ever-newer, smarter ways
To make the gilt seen gold; the shoddy, silk;
To cheat us legally; to bluff and bilk
By methods which no jury can prevent
Because the law's not broken, only bent.
This mind for hire, this mental **********
Can tell the half-lie hardest to refute;
Knows how to hide an inconvenient fact
And when to leave a doubtful claim unbacked;
Manipulates the truth but not too much,
And if his patter needs the Human Touch,
Skillfully artless, artlessly naive,
Wears his convenient heart upon his sleeve.
He uses words that once were strong and fine,
Primal as sun and moon and bread and wine,
True, honourable, honoured, clear and keen,
And leaves them shabby, worn, diminished, mean.
He takes ideas and trains them to engage
In the long little wars big combines wage...
He keeps his logic loose, his feelings flimsy;
Turns eloquence to cant and wit to whimsy;
Trims language till it fits his clients, pattern
And style's a glossy **** or limping slattern.
He studies our defences, finds the cracks
And where the wall is weak or worn, attacks.
lie finds the fear that's deep, the wound that's tender,
And mastered, outmanouevered, we surrender.
We who have tried to choose accept his choice
And tired succumb to his untiring voice.
The dripping tap makes even granite soften
We trust the brand-name we have heard so often
And join the queue of sheep that flock to buy;
We fools who know our folly, you and I.
11.1k
This is about the girl who fell in love with the moon.
Resting against the cold glass window at night
To get a glimpse of the light on the side she laid eyes on
And wondered about the darkness she would never get to see.
This is about the girl who fell in love with the stars.
Watching them sparkle and shoot across the sky.
She shed a tear knowing these stars were long diminished
And wondered if she as well would leave such a lasting mark.
This is about the girl who fell in love with the rain.
Falling fast asleep to the quiet drops on the pavement
With colors forming through the heavy mist,
And wondered if she could ever be as beautiful as a rainbow.
This is about the girl who fell in love with the ocean.
Sinking her toes in the sand while breathing the salty air,
Noticing the fish swimming easily through the blue water
And wondered if she could glide through life the same way.
This is about the girl who fell in love with the sun.
Lying in the swaying grass, feeling a soft breeze on her cheeks
Only to be shaded by the birds flying free under the light
And she wondered if she could one day be as free.
This is about the girl who fell in love with solitude.
Curled up with the dusty pages of her favorite book
Reading of the lover’s who share their lives together,
And wondered if one day she might share her solitude.
This is about the girl who fell in love with you.
With the way your body wrapped around hers,
How you could command a room with the warmth of your smile
And she wondered if one day she could call you hers.
This is about the girl who fell in love with too many things.
Realizing none of them would ever be hers,
Knowing she had no one to share them with.
And she wondered if she would always feel so alone.
Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 4:12 AM UTC
--------------
Just bought a new back wheel
For my tall and sturdy bike
And riding back from a party
I got hit by a big white truck
I was cycling by the curb
A truck came zooming up
I had the space of a meter or more
But quickly the space diminished
Suddenly I felt it
A crunching of the wheel
I shouted in anglo-saxon
Wehey! As I leapt from the speeding frame
I fell into a running roll
And stood straight up and turned around
My bike was laying flat
The back wheel sadly spinning.
I wrung my hands and giggled
And looked about in awe.
The people that saw this happen
Came up and shook their heads
Are you alright? I cant believe what happened.
I didn’t catch his number plate
What a ******* crazy driver
Are you sure you are alright?
A gay irish man was there
You uttured a cry he said
And then flew from your bike
Like a… like a… a ballerina
I forced the wheel back into place
So it was was sort of fit to roll
The chain and gears were gnarled
So I couldn’t exactly ride
On the way two foreign drunks
Looked and spoke about my bike
Autobus smash, I said
Ohhhhhh they said
Finally arriving near finsbury
A man who was cycling past
Said do you need some help?
I said yes please I got run over by a truck
What I can do, said thomas from hungary
Or what we can do
Is take a length of chain out
So at least you can get home
Ok yes please I said
And he bent down and used his little tools
And got his hands all oily black
And made me a fixed gear bike
Now your bike is a fixie bike
So im afraid you cant change the gears
Like my fixie bike, he said
Thanks hungarian dude
Mar 20, 2012
Mar 20, 2012 at 8:36 PM UTC
simplicity is
an acknowledgment of love
in diminished light.
May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 9:19 AM UTC
If only your arms
Held me true again
Our lips and
bodies entwined~
If we could remember
language once shared.
Find our rhythm divine
Yet we have climbed
these ravaged cliffs
Heartbreak Chasm
between~
A fragile bridge
of diminished connect
Crossed only in my dreams
Older now
in this state of suspense
To watch our love fall away~
A tender time for both of us
This loss of each
Precious day
Copyright © 2015 Christi Michaels.
All Rights Reserved
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 10:15 AM UTC
There's a difference between looking and
seeing.
You can look at me,
but I wonder more
what you see.
Brown eyes,
brown hair,
barely more than
five feet tall;
my feet are small,
as are my hands;
my teeth are straight,
thanks to braces;
shoulders been broad
since I swam,
but my figure
is much less athletic
than it used to be.
I could look
at myself
and point out
a million flaws.
My forehead is much
too big for my liking,
my cheeks are too red,
my top lip is so
skinny it barely
exists,
and, if you ask me,
my waist line
could afford
to look a little more
like my upper lip.
My looks are far from perfect.
Not saying I'm hideous,
but I don't look
in the mirror
to find
America's Next Top Model,
or anything close,
at least not until
my face is perfectly painted,
flaws concealed under
a combination
of moderately priced makeup and
a rather crafty hand.
When I look,
physical imperfections
and inadequacies
stare back at me.
My overly expressive
light brown eyes
give me an
omnipotent glance,
and they beg me to
turn away,
to close them,
to put them to sleep
so that I can
see.
When I see,
it's like a whole new me.
I'm a human being
whose physical flaws
are diminished by
an overly giving, compassionate
heart,
a brain
filled of logic & curiosity,
a chest
swollen full of
endless giggles,
a throat
storing sarcastic words mixed in with
empathetic phrases;
down within me
I see
the woman
who still at times
looks and feels
more like the girl
whose heart has been broken
too many times to count
but still, despite her
womanly pessimism,
yearns optimistically
to love again.
Within me I see
a woman with confidence
and also insecurity,
ambition and fear,
tranquility and rage,
hope and despair;
I see dreams,
wishes,
prayers,
meditation;
I see a beautifully
complex soul
trapped in a world
that begs it for
simplicity and
conformity.
I guess when I look
I only get a glimpse
of the body
that feels the need
to be perfect,
to work out a little more,
to weigh a little less,
to fix her hair the right way,
and to dress in the right clothes.
The self-conscious me
who still fears being weird,
who cares what others think,
who worries if my parents are proud.
But when I see,
out comes the woman
who says
**** the status quo,
I can't be put in a box,
I'm beautiful the way I am,
and nothing stands
between
me
and achieving
my
dreams.*
When I look,
I don't see,
but when I see,
I see me.
I feel the brim of my glasses graze my nose,
and I know,
even once I take 'em off,
my vision
is better
than ever.
Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 11:59 PM UTC
We are the people that you created.
A generation going nowhere.
We are the kids that you hate.
Brought up by fear and paranoia.
The technology era,
distinguished by guns and violence.
Raised and spoiled;
aggression and hate the new emotions.
Alienated from each other.
Passion and empathy completely diminished.
A dystopian world,
ruled by liars and thieves.
Pain is coupled with pleasure.
Angst and depression consuming the minds.
Break away from the hate.
Become a better generation.
We are not the nowhere kids.
Oct 9, 2012
Oct 9, 2012 at 9:20 PM UTC
No, I don’t have a boyfriend.
I don’t have the desire to see another end;
after exhaustive months of getting to know
a fictionalised persona, fragmented, so
No, I don’t have a boyfriend.
The last one hurt and you didn’t see,
but that doesn’t proclaim the scar less prominent to me,
my feelings numb, I no longer crave the intimacy - detrimental to me.
No, I don’t have a boyfriend.
The last boys touch was for him not for me
and my body still screams cause he won’t let it be
and you’ll never understand as the trauma won’t subside
and my self esteem is diminished by his lies.
No, I don’t have a boyfriend.
I humoured a guy who gave it a try
but all I could feel was nothing inside
and when someone bumps into me sauntering by
the unwanted touch still makes me cry.
No, I don't want a boyfriend.
Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 5:33 PM UTC
I saw you fallen in front of me
motionless and in grief
your only hope has faded
your little life is diminished.
For a split second I see
a tiny flap of wings
clumsy and weak
I hear your voice within me.
*"Is it all you can do for me?"
"Why are you taking me?"
"You got a light?"
"Your hands are so warm..."*
Moth, moth... can you stand still?
there is no light in here
Moth, moth... do you ever sleep?
live one day and forever be.
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 12:27 AM UTC
Social Media World
Waiting, longing, wanting
Never finished, never complete
Silence makes our ears ring
Always busy, looking to compete
Social media world
Everyone and no one
Never alone, your life is unfurled,
Tap, swipe, post, I’m done..
Never done, never finished
Your social media masterpiece
Do we leave ourselves diminished?
Even though we constantly increase ...
Increase and build, our profiles grow,
Piece by piece an ever changing image
So fast, so rapid, makes me want to go slow
In my mind I pretend and try to envisage
And yet I’m entirely torn
A hypocrite through and through
My very own image I’ll adorn
My eyes, my mouth and what about this hairdo?
I love it and I question it,
I label myself, but why?
Basic, white, “this is lit”
I’ve found that social media high
Parents worry, kids rebel,
Are they happy !?
Perhaps time will tell
For me, it’s the content that’s ******
Stop seeking happiness,
It’s not an end game
Stop talking mindfulness
Whilst putting others to shame
Let’s stop talking the talk
Preaching and self indulging
Watching and waiting like a hawk,
A lifetime wasted, wishing
But embrace the conversations!
Open dialogue; debating, discussing,
Thoughts, ideas and revelations,
Platforms for all, we could do anything!
Nov 2, 2021
Nov 2, 2021 at 6:09 PM UTC
i really wanna try
i really really do
i just can't face the fact
of disappointing you
i don't know what it is
that makes me just not go
there's always something else
that screws up my entire flow
the face of disappointment
strikes straight through my heart
it takes away my energy
and tears my hope apart
i don't want that again
not for the seventh time
a disappointment for every day of the week
and sadness will be mine
the value of my soul
will fall below zero
and will become unreachable
by any given hero
and darkness will fall upon my diminished sun
then i will remain the disappointing one
and as i lay in this deep and heartless place
i am once again dead upon your disappointed face
Mar 14, 2010
Mar 14, 2010 at 12:34 PM UTC
She bloomed in the blackness of the night
on the soundless lake water
in the timeless space.
She held a bright white light for the other creatures
for the moon and the stars,
for the birds and the squirrels.
She shined.
She shined erasing the darkness of those hearts
the sorrow , the tears and the cries
A true sun in the sunless sky.
But soon she will disappear..
as the night ends.
she looks down at her diminished image
Her black eyes fulled of misery
*"Oh heart !"
" Can I bare your burden ?" ,
she said,
"Oh heart !"
" behind light , there is darkness and behind darkness there is light."
"Oh heart !"
" your wounds , your sadness and bleakness , how can I heal it?"*
As she laments crystals,
vanished in the brightness of heavens ,
in the brightness of the blue .
Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 5:49 PM UTC
The concert was about to finish ..
And now it's her turn ..
With her instrument ..
With her golden saxophone ..
The lights were diminished ..
And she started playing her favorite musical note ..
With her heart that is full of feelings ..
And her closed eyes ..
In her special world ..
The air goes out from her lungs softly like tears ..
And the great audience feels every tone ..
She doesn’t see them ..
She doesn’t hear their clap ..
Only his soul that is around ..
And Only his voice that is heard ..
Then his beautiful smile ..
With tears in his eyes , He said ''You're the best''
Then she looked at her saxophone ..
And remembered years ago ..
At one of their nights ..
During one of their phone calls ..
- You know babe , I adore the Saxophone ..
- Really ?
- Yeah , it's my favorite instrument ..
- Hold on ..
- What's this noise around you ?
- Nothing just my family ..
- Hmmm , didn't they sleep ?
- No , gonna call you after sometime ..
- Ok no problem ..
And after sometime he called her back ..
- Now tell me what will you do when you get a saxophone ..
- Haha , I really don't know but I've never thought about having one before ..
As they used to do , He started telling her a story before sleeping ..
She doesn't care about any stories ..
She just loves listening to his voice ..
She stays silent ..
To listen and feel ..
Every single word ..
And while listening , The call was over ..
She did a call again and again ..
No answer ..
She called his home ..
No answer ..
Again and again ..
No answer ..
The phone was ringing away from his sleeping house ..
Without his family noise that didn't exist ..
Among a lot of people ..
In his crushed car ..
Between his dead body ..
And
That New Golden Saxophone
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 1:09 PM UTC
There is a painful vacuum
Not a naked desire but still
A longing unfulfilled
That hollows the soul
It is why babies wail
Why old men wake crying
From beginning to end
We evolved to be touched
Skin on skin does not need to be
A ****** frenzy
A hug, a handshake
And pat on the back
Or a hand on his shoulder
The old man waits
The silence of isolation breaks
Oxytocin rushes through his system
Rebooting forgotten feelings
Restoring diminished capacities
It does not return all abilities
But enlivens deadened synapses
Yes it is very cerebral
Without it we wither away
Stewing in mental and physical decay
So, have you touched someone today?
Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 12:41 PM UTC
Puppet Master
You crept in like a mischievious thief.
Intrigued, decieved and retrieved my son.
Influencing and destroying his beautiful life.
Diminished his hopes, his dreams and his self-esteem.
Convincing him he had no future,
No love, no value was to his life.
Your wicked silk spun web of deadly lies,
Mislead him to believe,
That happiness and love cease to exist.
This is your fuel,
This your fire.
Your one and only desire.
You will not quit until they all expire.
****** black, H or tar,
You are a seductive liar.
Your needle point claws buried deep his arm,
Dripping with your poisonous conceit.
Now you are his puppet master.
Dominating his mind, his thoughts and his words.
Your malicious acts preformed through him,
Make him look wild, insane and disturbed.
Each day in your tight intense grip,
My son dwindled and shriveled away.
Becoming your molded and trained apprentice.
Coached to perfection in your twisted ways.
You are as bad as a ******
A murderer and even more.
I hate you ******
You started a war.
I will not let you win!
Let go of my loved and cherished son.
Let him live a full and beautiful life.
I surrender to you myself.
Volunteer my own life.
Take me instead,
Be my puppet master,
Enslave me,
And let my baby live.
L. Mack
9/20/18
Sep 21, 2018
Sep 21, 2018 at 12:41 AM UTC
943
A Coffin—is a small Domain,
Yet able to contain
A Citizen of Paradise
In it diminished Plane.
A Grave—is a restricted Breadth—
Yet ampler than the Sun—
And all the Seas He populates
And Lands He looks upon
To Him who on its small Repose
Bestows a single Friend—
Circumference without Relief—
Or Estimate—or End—
5k
Her sadness hung around her
Like a suit of tailored tears.
And her vision started to blur
Knowing she lost someone dear.
Goodbyes always hurt the most
When the story wasn't finished
When opportunities were missed
And potential is diminished.
She gazed into the black abyss
Thinking about what could have been.
The abyss gazed back into her
Its loneliness crawled under her skin.
But she heard a whisper in the wind
Saw the sun's diamond glints on snow
A lonely lark appeared to sing
A song that only she could know.
It made her step back from the brink
Of the river never conquered twice
For she was never left behind;
on his way to paradise.
Jan 26, 2019
Jan 26, 2019 at 9:50 AM UTC
**** ruined you.
It ruined us.
I thought it was me.
My fault.
I needed to change.
I did my hair, my make up.
I danced for you.
I dressed in lingerie and costumes but it was never enough.
I couldn't live up to lust.
Then I learned it wasn't me.
I was your love for ***********
Slowly this diminished my love, my respect for you.
Worst of all it destroyed me, and all my self confidence I had in my self.
I convinced myself,
*** isn't everything but everything else had seemed right.
Maybe we can learn together connecting emotion with action.
Conclusion ended up being your lack of desire for *** and intimacy with me. Could it be my fault?
**** was always just one click away from any fantasy.
I would confront you and express my concerns.
Trying to make the two of us work.
You only got better at hiding it.
*** became a struggle.
Neither of us could reach that ******
All you could do was blame me.
Then I knew....
You had the case of the prisoners' hand.
Could I wear more makeup?
What about white tipped nails?
Maybe I needed breast implants.
Now you want role play and ***** talks?
If that wasn't enough could I consider *********
I tried to wrap all this around my head.
Thinking maybe these things would work.
We could become a couple again.
You could never find satisfaction.
So there could be no compromise.
Soon I lost my interest in ***
It never seemed to bother with you.
I grew angry towards you.
Things began to come violent.
You pushed me twisting my arms and wrist.
Then threw me on the hardwood floor.
As my wrist began to bruise and swell.
How I missed being loved and cared for.
How I desired beautiful and emotional just plain naked ***
All I feel....is lying here depressed.
I'd rather stay in bed then walk into you.
Every time I see you I take a deep breath, Turn around, and walk straight to bed and begin to cry again.
I ask myself...
Why did I stay this long?
Why did I try so hard to fix something that was never there?
For 6 years.
I believed you loved me.
When in reality you were in love with ****
Feb 27, 2016
Feb 27, 2016 at 12:40 PM UTC