"dominic" poems
Dominic ******** › Love So Dear by BR 39 minutes ago
This poem is so ****** I pooped blood out , check mine out people 100 times better than this **** , ,100 times
Dominic ******** › funny how it turns by Sylkie Smoothie 39 minutes ago
Your poem is **** , check mine out people , 100 times better than this , 100 times
Dominic ******** › **** by GussE 40 minutes ago
What a ****** poem , check mine out people , 100 times better than this piece of crappp
Dominic ******** › Life In The Battlefields No. 50 by David 41 minutes ago
****** poetry dude , check mine out beoble 100 times better than this . 100 times
Dominic ******** › Untitled by Oly Light 42 minutes ago
This is **** , check mine out beoble ! you poem is **** ! mine is better , like a 100 times better
Dominic ******** › saeglopur, ii by C S Vincent 46 minutes ago
*cocked mouth * i lyk dat bby
Dominic ********
started following C S Vincent 46 minutes ago
liked ruins by kimberlyxlynn 46 minutes ago
started following kimberlyxlynn 47 minutes ago
started following SoundOfRain 49 minutes ago
Dominic ******** added a poem 2 hours ago
Invincible
Dominic ******** joined Hello Poetry.
2 hours ago
Feb 17, 2014
Feb 17, 2014 at 6:33 AM UTC
Keep-A-Breast
Apple
OtterBox
Acu-Rite
Dial Aquafresh
Oral-B
ACT Garnier Equate
Hanes
On the Byas
Rude
Toms
Dakine
Acu-Vue
Ponds Degree
Preferred Stock
Mighty Wallet
Hot Topic
Keurig Dixie
Donut Shop
Domino
International Delight
Peter Paul's
Best Yet Great Value
Instagram
Facebook
Snapchat Yik Yak
Forever 21
Adventure Time
FSC Bic The Poetry Foundation
Staedtler Pilot Sharpie Microsoft
The Norton Anthology
Toshiba Dell Expo
Lipton
Emerica
Anti Hero MOB Shorty's
Bones Thunder
Shake Junt
Swingline
Pandora
Tommy Hilfiger
' Jill Greg Ashley Courtney
Judy
Bob
Janice
Shannon Kelly
Robert Emily Jeremy Darrin Liza
Bill Joe Dominic Sean James
Gav Jordan Tony Eric
Christopher
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 8:38 PM UTC
In Does days, there was especial boy…
Oh, I give him all of my heart.
I dreamed and hoped of wonderful things.
Next thing I knew, I was by his side holding his hand
But what I didn’t know…
He could just push me aside
Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 3:00 PM UTC
Peter (my bf) and I are at Heraclee beach for the weekend.
It’s a little sliver of heaven, about 11 miles south of Saint Tropez.
It’s too early in the season to swim - being breezy and 72°f -
but it’s still the beach. I’m a neophyte beach ***
but I’m willing and eager to learn.
I’m valuable even if I’m not being productive [I self-affirm].
something poetic-ish..
*The sun’s a drowsy tyrant, not yet willing to unforgivingly scorch.
The beach is like glistening sugar, the sand still cool enough to walk, rogue west winds occasionally whip it to an ankle stinging sandpaper.
Majestic umbrella pines are dancing the hula. The shrub-like understory is dominated by drought-tolerant lavenders and rosemary that dense the air with perfume which complements the mediterranean brine.
There’s laughter, off somewhere, like wind-chimes playing clear, just above the ever-roiling sound of the surf. Birds are everywhere, gulls walk around like they’re bored, cory float on air, like kites and petrels skim against the wind, centimeters above choppy waves.
The beach isn’t crowded - French kids are still in school - but a few hardy, oiled, bronzed and sculpted bodies are sprawled on the pristine sand, like offerings to the god of leisure.*
Our hotel has its own private cove, with adirondack wooden lounges under yellow parasols. Pastel blue-vested wait-staffers circle, on the quarter-hour, eager to please.
“Deux (two) American Martinis, S'il te plaît! (please),” I ask, expectantly.
It’s a **** beach, but Peter got an alarmed look when I joked I might go ******* “Annick (my older sister) always goes ******* I informed him.
“I’d like to see that,” he’d chuckled, and when I gave him a raised eyebrow, he amended, “That came out wrong.”
.
.
songs for this..
Summer of Our Love by Triangle Sun
That life by Unknown Mortal Orchestra
The kiss of Venus by Dominic Fike, Paul McCartney
May 27, 2024
May 27, 2024 at 1:29 PM UTC
[] tell Dominic that you were not jealous but hurt
[] ask Dominic if he really dated me out of pity
[] tell Dominic I love him
[] read poems to Dominic
[] tell him why I cannot move on…
Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 2:04 AM UTC
I wake and find myself in love:
And this one time I do not doubt.
I only fear, and wander out
To hold long parley with a dove.
The innocent and the guilty, met
Here in the garden, feel no fear.
But I'm afraid of you, my dear.
There was a reason: I forget.
And I by shyness am undone
And can't go out for fear I meet
My poems dancing down the street
Telling your name to everyone.
The lichen peels along the wall.
My conversation bores the dove.
He knows it all: that I'm in love
And you care much and not at all.
I shall stay here and keep my word.
Glumly I wait to marry dust.
It grieves me only that I must
Speak not to you, but to a bird.
**Written by: Dom Moraes
Dominic Francis "Dom" Moraes (19 July 1938 – 2 June 2004) was an Indian writer and poet who wrote in the English language. **
Nov 5, 2017
Nov 5, 2017 at 11:21 PM UTC
I smelt the morning air
as I walked the cloister
from church to kitchen,
oratio est labor,
Dom Francis busy
about the pots and pans said
bring me cabbage
from the walled garden
so I did,
the French peasant monk
wheeled a barrow
as if loaded
with the world's sins
over the rough grounds
of the abbey,
we must sow the seed
not hoard it
Dominic said,
sow your seeds in me
she said fill me
with yourself
and your squiggling fishes,
sunlight through
the high windows
of the refectory
as I swept the floor
but the sunlight stayed
with its tiny
particles floating,
Dieu voit tout
the French monk said
as he aided me
in the apple orchard
plucking fruit,
she opened to me
her valley and garden
and I dug deep,
the punishment
of every disordered mind
is its own disorder
Augustine of Hippo said,
I lay the benches for lunch
with jugs and bowls of fruit
and watched the Crucified
on the wall
above the abbot's bench
high above my head,
das Gefühl Gott in dir
the Austrian monk said
as I mowed
the monk's graveyard,
I sensed God
in me some days
other days nothing
but an empty wind
through the hollowness
of my soul,
come she said
lying there
on her bed
enter me
fill my hole.
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 2:42 AM UTC
Hermano: Alonzo Dominic Lopez, desde ustedes izquierda
Yo tener estado muriendo como ustedes murió!
Hermano: Alonzo Dominic Lopez= yo perder ustedes así mucho!
Hermano: amor ustedes
Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 12:08 PM UTC
What I ask
by Dominic Mildago
I am tired.
Exhausted.
Destroyed.
But I continue on.
However.
I do have a request.
To those who watch from
Afar.
When I fall.
I have because:
Ran as fast I can run.
But when I can't do that I'll crawl.
And when I can't crawl.
When I cannot do that...
Will you find someone to carry me.
That is what I ask.
Of you my friends.
And those who love me.
Care for me until I am strong.
So I can continue.
For I shall.
Forever.
Dec 12, 2011
Dec 12, 2011 at 10:56 PM UTC
Do you ever have days
where you are just "off"?
You know --
Days where your head aches
and everything you try seems fruitless?
Today was a day like that for me
and no matter what I do,
the headache continues; the pain continues.
I miss being home;
I miss my kids;
I miss Tony.
Some days working is such a burden
even when it is a joy.
This is the third night this week
I'm away from home.
The third night Gabriel will need to
go to bed without being nursed.
The third night I won't have been
able to help Madeline with her homework.
Sometimes the pace
of my life and work
gets to me.
Like today.
Then I wonder - is my work worth so much?
that I sacrifice time with my family?
I miss things --
Things like Gabriel's first time climbing
up the stairs.
Like the first time Dominic went to preschool;
the first time Madeline went to the dentist.
And why really?
What's the point?
Is work that important?
Today was a tough day...
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 12:59 AM UTC
Valentines day,
out for my birthday
a few close friends,
a bag of dizz.
A plastic pig,
and a quiet conversation in the bathroom
with Rachael.
"Clara thinks I should see someone"
"I think you should too."
"But why?"
I didn't feel bad,
I swear to god I was happy.
I know now I wasn't,
filling myself with drugs
as fast as my blood stream
could run.
"What's up with you Molly?"
Even Dominic was worried
I was just floating on MDMA.
What's up with you, Molly?
He told me he could love me during rag week
and my god I thought it might cure me.
They found me
crying on the steps of the third floor
of Rachael's block
and no one ever found out why.
Not everyone made it out alive.
Oisin lifted me over walls
and Dominic caught me on the other side
and I suppose you could say that in many ways
they were lifting me through.
But think,
when I was in bed with him, stroking his back in little rings
and kissing him. Falling all over again,
so in love with him, some boy
who I'd never met
before that night
left that hotel room
and wound up dead in the Oranmore lake.
But how could you ever talk about that?
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 5:40 AM UTC
Neon’s radioactive glow in a window,
offers the cheap promise of pleasure.
Like a hypnotic, fluorescent serpent,
it flashes, blinks and winks - “Welcome”
It fairly slithers on rain-slicked boulevards,
warms like moonlight on cold unfriendly nights,
and signals cool, ready fun in the summertime.
We dress our vices in silky, pastel colors, like the
gamblers choices of Disney flavored whiskies.
It’s the soft, velvet glove that hides brass knuckles,
oh, you’ll feel those bruises in the morning.
The world’s a dark alleyway with an electric blush,
whose color flatters the lonely, desperate,
and makes sin look like something you could fall for.
Neon is perfume for the optical senses.
In that light, everything seems possible.
Isn’t that girl smiling at you? You see,
beauty is easier to trust than the truth.
Neon imperviously reflects off regrets,
and glitters brightest on broken dreams.
Of course daylight is harsh, but honest.
Didn’t we come in here to escape it?
.
.
Songs for this:
The Ballad of Mac the Knife by Sting & Dominic Muldowney
Any Old Thing by Swing Republic
May 15, 2025
May 15, 2025 at 10:11 PM UTC
Beáti immaculáti in via
qui ámbulant in lege Dómini,
I tolled the bells for the Angelus
pulled ropes with George,
be steady as you go
less you are taken high
Dom James had said
(about bell pulling),
sunlight on the cloister
after lunch and birds
from the one tree
in the cloister garth,
taking my hand
she lead me to her bed
to be bedded,
there are those
who seek knowledge
in order to serve
that is love said Bernard,
the French monk said
Dieu est dans tous,
I heard Hugh pale faced
talk of perfection
in the deeds done
he cleaned the latrines
with dedication,
the peasant monk
walked from farm to cloister
bringing manure
for the flower beds
in a wheel barrow
steady as a ship
through smooth waters,
she lay there
with that glint of eye
plough my furrow she said,
I weeded the monks graves
all Latin named
and Roman numerals,
none mow as you do
Dom Frederick said
by the church
as I mowed grass,
we must sow the seed
not hoard it Dominic said,
I sowed and she smiled
and lay there quite bare,
sancta Maria audi nos,
the smell of incense
in the choir stalls
and bread fresh baked,
George and I laughed
at the large table napkins
large as bed sheets
spread from neck to lap space,
Hugh laughed not
and unamused
his pale face.
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 9:46 AM UTC
Did George Floyd’s life matter?
Did Breonna Taylor’s life matter?
Did Ahmaud Arbery’s life matter?
Did Eric Garner’s life matter?
Did Trayvon Martin’s life matter?
Did Mike Brown’s life matter?
Did Tamir Rice’s life matter?
Did Keith Childress’ life matter?
Did Bettie Jones’ life matter?
Did Philando Castille’s life matter?
Did Michael Noel’s life matter?
Did Jamar Clark’s life matter?
Did Michael Lee Marshall’s life matter?
Did Dominic Hutchinson’s life matter?
Did Junior Prosper’s life matter?
Did Keith McLeod’s life matter?
Did India Kager’s life matter?
Did Felix Kumi’s life matter?
Did Samuel Dubose’s life matter?
Did Darrius Stewart’s life matter?
Did Sandra Bland’s life matter?
Did George Mann’s life matter?
Did Jonathan Sander’s life matter?
Did Victor Laros’s life matter?
Did Spencer McCain’s life matter?
Did Jermaine Benjamin’s life matter?
Did Kris Jackson life matter?
Did Kevin Higgenbotham’s life matter?
Did Amadou Diallo’s life matter?
Did Oscar Grant’s life matter?
Did Calvon Reid’s life matter?
Did William Chapman’s life matter?
Did Walter Scott’s life matter?
All black / All unarmed / All murdered by US Police
Did Dylan Roof’s life matter?
Did Peter Manfredonia’s life matter?
Did Anthony Trifiletti’s life matter?
Did Patrick Crusius’ life matter?
Did James Holmes’ life matter?
All white / All murderers / All arrested peacefully by US Police
Unarmed blacks
Killed by US Police
5x unarmed whites
Black men and boys
Killed by US Police
2.5x white men and boys
This is why we kneel
This is why we march
This is why we protest
This is why we are mad as hell
This is why we are fed-up as well
This is why we riot
Riot is the language of voices unheard
When you respond
“All Lives Matter”
To our “Black Lives Matter”
You’re not listening
You didn’t hear
You don’t care
GTFOH
~ P
Jun 1, 2020
Jun 1, 2020 at 3:38 AM UTC