"dullest" poems
There is something about your smile
It can brighten the dullest of days
It brings sunshine to the cloudiest corner
lifts spirits in so many ways.
Your eyes light up and the gloom disappears
I find myself smiling along with you
There is just something special about your smile
It just brings positivity in everything we do.
It makes worries drown, pains disappear
It brings hope to this world we so desperately need.
Your smile brings a joy to the room,
it takes away sadness, hurt and greed.
There is just something special about your smile....
Oct 13, 2015
Oct 13, 2015 at 12:45 AM UTC
Nature teaches us our tongue again
And the swift sentences came pat. I came
Into cool night rescued from rainy dawn.
And I seethed with language - Henry at
Harfleur and Agincourt came apt for war
In Ireland and the Middle East. Here was
The riddling and right tongue, the feeling words
Solid and dutiful. Aspiring hope
Met purpose in "advantages" and "He
That fights with me today shall be my brother."
Say this is patriotic, out of date.
But you are wrong. It never is too late
For nights of stars and feet that move to an
Iambic measure; all who clapped were linked,
The theatre is our treasury and too,
Our study, school-room, house where mercy is
Dispensed with justice. Shakespeare has the mood
And draws the music from the dullest heart.
This is our birthright, speeches for the dumb
And unaccomplished. Henry has the words
For grief and we learn how to tell of death
With dignity. "All was as cold" she said
"As any stone" and so, we who lacked scope
For big or little deaths, increase, grow up
To purposes and means to face events
Of cruelty, stupidity. I walked
Fast under stars. The Avon wandered on
"Tomorrow and tomorrow". Words aren't worn
Out in this place but can renew our tongue,
Flesh out our feeling, make us apt for life.
3.4k
I am he
who blistered and
purpled his aching
fingers, upon playing
the saddest, dissonant
melodies out of
his old, untuned
guitar, whose strings
of somber used-to-be's
he ceaselessly strummed
and plucked under
the dullest starless
night sky; and
sing of his
weeping heart the
poetry of melancholy
notes half-composed.
It is me--
the lone guitarist
on broken avenue
who never stopped
playing his love
song of rue
since you left--
whose only lyrics
is your name
and your words
he dearly kept.
Jan 17, 2016
Jan 17, 2016 at 3:45 AM UTC
Who do you think you are?
You, the one with the prettiest of faces but the ugliest of hearts.
Who do you think you are?
You, the one with the brightest of eyes but the dullest of mind.
Who do you think you are?
You, the one with the quickest of tongue but the slowest of wit.
Who do you think you are?
You, the one fastest to judge but not acknowledge your own flaws
Who do you think you are?
You, the one with the smallest of knives but the biggest of smiles.
Who do you think you are?
You, the one with the twist of your knife at the back even as you're hugging.
Who do you think you are?
Nobody. That's who.
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 10:47 PM UTC
I'm perfectly imperfect
That's what they always say
I'm crookedly straight
But I'm far from gay
I forever speak my mind
Always and all day
My heart is on my sleeve
But guarded all the same
I'm devilishly innocent
My mind is not so tame
I'm dishonestly truthful
But never take the blame
I'm completely backwards
We can never be the same
To me upwards is downwards
The sky's my only ground
Your life I can still ruin
It is with in my bounds
I'm depressingly happy
There is no middle ground
My version of earth is flat...
Why should it be round?
My earth is a work of art
With colours everywhere
Your world I broke and ripped apart
Just to prove I don't fit there
I tore it up in little bits
I left the pieces without a care
I'm completely backwards
I'm such a major scare
I'm nationally local
You can see me all the time
I can disappear into thin air
Leaving you without a rhyme
For I'm melodically harmonious
No brighter than the dullest shine
I'm incomprehensibly real
And yet so hard to find
Pure white to me is simple black
Race is gone and can't come back
I can prove all that I am
A thing to which you surely lack
I'm disrespectfully respectful
My words are always fact
I'm completely backwards
I'll drive you past insane
Then I'll never bring you back
I'm illegally legal
Like a drug that you can't sell
I'm contrastingly bendable
In this world of my own hell
I'm resistingly irresistible
My secrets you will never tell
I'm obscenely lovable
In this world in which I fell
I landed in this twisted place
A world of expectations
This world I created on my own
For I'm an undertone of exaggeration
Here I've found my only home
In a backwards world of my creation
And all in all I'm here to say
"I'm completely backwards
In every single way"
Sep 10, 2009
Sep 10, 2009 at 12:49 PM UTC
When I started my MBA
I was looking forward to making new friends
And of course, excelling in academics
And thus redeeming myself
After my Engineering debacle
However, it never occurred to me
That I would fall in love
For the first time in my life
You changed everything
Right from our second meeting
I was drawn towards you
You were very shy
But in a good way
And of course, extremely sweet-natured
The kind of person who wouldn't hurt a fly
Though you didn't know much Tamil
In spite of being a Tamilian
Your English more than made up for that
You didn't speak a lot
However, when you did speak
You were able to articulate your thoughts exceedingly well
And though we never had a detailed conversation
Apart from our debate on the movie "Ra One"
It was always a pleasure to interact with you
And of course, listen to your captivating voice
Last but not the least
Your handwriting was so exquisite
That it had the capability
To transform the dullest subject
Into an extremely fascinating one
Anyway, I truly loved you
But I couldn't muster the courage
To ask you out
However, I don't have any regrets whatsoever
And regardless of where you are currently
I hope you are having the time of your life
Just one last thing
I am utterly gobsmacked
That you knew all along
Something that I could never guess
From the way you spoke to me
Or behaved with me in general
You are indeed an incredible lady
And I hope you remain the way you are
Because the world needs more people like you
Jul 18, 2023
Jul 18, 2023 at 2:44 AM UTC
Pearls
Crystals
Precious stones
or even just
paste pretenders
threaded through
polished perfection
sunlight kept hostage
mirrored moon glow
tiny shiny planets draw
foreign bodies into orbits
while blinking stars
frame infinity
on fragile human canvas
spilling faceted
rainbows
upon even dullest of
days
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 1:21 PM UTC
Birds came and pecked through the silver top,
popping their beaks in
for a dribble of milk,
it was cold then,
back in the old days
not so anymore.
And the slow light of the glow worm that could turn a bird in mid flight would send sparse light, but enough light as if enough light was a feast.
The snowmen in the garden that stood under the clothes line looked perfect with two buttons sewed into their eyes until the thaw came and they melted like our hearts did when they went away and the days grew even longer after that.
The frogspawn burst into tadpoles became black comma's in the pond and the herons flew like spitfire aircraft,
how daft we laughed and gaily played as if the season would last forever and tomorrow would never come.
Mr's Brown is Bobby coming out to play today?
Then Bobby went away,
taken by leukemia that crept in silently and took him quietly and still we squandered the fading sunlight.
On the dullest of days when the bagpiper plays and a darkness comes into my heart,
I stand there, out on the foreshore, waiting for emptiness
and wanting no more.
Sep 26, 2015
Sep 26, 2015 at 3:27 AM UTC
She is the one with
Brightest Eyes that shine with promises of brightest future,
Heart that beats on rhythm of unsung melodies of valor,
Her tiny foots getting ready to conquer the unclaimed territories,
Her hands ready to lead world towards purest form of happiness,
Her smile brightening up the dullest day
The world knows her by the name
"Mirha Sakina"
What they don't know is
She is the Golden Princess
Born to rule the world !!
Oct 27, 2020
Oct 27, 2020 at 5:04 PM UTC
What would I do without my fondest delirium?
he stalks my outside musings
he surprises my sharpest joy within
the dullest treading tumult.
I love the embrace of his watchful eye
he peruses my dreams,
a chef sampling caviar laced Hors d'oeuvres.
I speak to him through every reflection
the blank stare of vending machine glass,
the audacity of bathroom mirrored lashes,
the subtle wink of windows, skylights, vistas
every portal into another expanse
blasts me into the remainder of his silhouette.
What would I do without my fondest delirium?
he is the simplest clarity upon my devoted retinas
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 2:36 AM UTC
Deep into the midnight
below the gleaming star,
I stepped on the running wall — the creation of Nirvana,
lights.
Heaven's an enigma
a forged between the steely and the curve
the star's collision and the minor parts
have the iciest heart — a grain of Truth.
Prophesy the future,
shuffle the sheets
and let them look at
your eyes — does it carry the dullest truth?
Or a blundered ignorance?
Does the dawn of the newborns
form the hallowed mysteries
of heaven's plea?
Into the Unborn
where the sky holds a mere certainty.
You climb long — to match the moon's faint
and the beaming sunlight;
where the galaxy
was just as narrow
as the strange fragments
of what we see?
Then if beneath us was the roaring storm,
will it expose the unborn?
Will the dream catch us
when we fall asleep?
Into the future.
Jun 26, 2020
Jun 26, 2020 at 10:34 AM UTC
It's only 9:34 PM on a Sunday night
All of my people are getting drunk tonight
But I have an exam to study for right?
My brain doesn't look so bright
I feel like *****
Blue blue blue
They're the dullest colours I see
I can't be free
When these construction workers are stacking bricks in from of me
As they're mixing cement
I have to give my mind supplements
To save myself
From this imprisonment
There are millions of filaments incinerating my skin right through
I won't let myself keep burning into fumes
It stings! It stings! **** It stings!
Snap, I'm sitting on a flaming throne
Broken bones and blood is my red carpet
You all orbit around me
Like I'm the sun
And you are none
You are nine but the planets depending, feeding off of my combustion
I'm powerful now, I'm powerful even when the light turns off
The flames burn out
I am a dead star
But I can **** you in so far
Your body will explode
And I will feed off of all your parts
Nothing can burn me once more
I will **** you up even so that your mind weakens right in front of me
It will deteriorate and drive you insane
Your mundane thoughts will swap into the soil like air
And i won't care
About all your painful histories
Your miserable fuckery
I am here writing rhymes
Instead of doing equationa for maths
My visions are my equations right now
The sky is my sum
I don't have a formula
This is all something I haven't learnt at school
See, that place is a living graveyard
Kids do shards behind the bushes
Kush is laid on their sandwiches like its lettuce
They can't finish a sentence
Without bursting into laughter
They lost their eyes
It's galled at their feet
It is looking back at its disconnected body.
It's hilarious.
It's ******
If I fail at tomorrow's exam
Oh well let I be
I might as well join the detached kid
I don't need to be high on result papers
While I can be have hugh grader embedded on my face!
With no trace!
See now, I haven't been past third base
It's crazy
But the men are hunting for flesh
My man doesn't know how to hold a spear
Let alone my ******
I can be throbbed into at any time
They are everywhere
I can't talk to a man without receiving ****** remarks
They bark! Bark bark bark!
In my head it's all a question mark
I will not sacrifice my body to a reproductive *****
Not so easy
Even through nature asks it
It's a flower that blossoms without your seeds
I can be powerful with no reliance
No reliance.
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 8:10 AM UTC
I woke up drowning
in the sleek black ocean
of unfamiliar pavement.
The cries of worry,
sorrow and shame
bled together as one.
I was asked questions
in what seemed like strange tongues
and responded with foreign answers.
And then, suddenly,
the road swallowed me whole,
like a pill, with no water.
I woke up floating
in the bright ambience
of an unknown struggle.
Needles prodded,
strangers argued
and loved ones watched on.
Confusion set in,
'Did I do something wrong?'
they told me just to lie still.
And then, abruptly,
the morphine surged
and the night fell away.
I woke up relaxed,
the I.V. saw to that,
as did the OxyContin.
Five stitches,
one for each separate time
my body bounced against the blacktop.
A fractured skull,
splintered like a rotting stump
struck by the dullest hatchet.
A broken leg,
encompassed in a new kind of boot,
for once on the receiving end of support.
And now I'm confined to the shrunken world
I map out with each small, slow step.
It seems I'm to die of boredom
rather than in the middle of Round Lake Boulevard.
Aug 12, 2012
Aug 12, 2012 at 2:58 AM UTC
How dare you use Frank Sinatra against me.
Everything else, fine, but
Frank was mine.
I'm sick to my stomach.
You stabbed me with the dullest blade possible.
It's in deep, and I'm bleeding everywhere.
But you can't use Frank Sinatra in this battle,
it's absolutely cruel.
I gave you Frank in love, and you use him in hate.
I have never been so disgusted with you as I am now.
I want my Frank Sinatra albums back, you don't
understand the real meaning of love.
Nov 30, 2013
Nov 30, 2013 at 6:44 AM UTC
I know why the joker
Doth smile and jest,
And laughs so gleefully at thee.
Thy spirits, he soothes,
With frolicking moves;
The way he sways is so lovely.
The cracks that he'll take
Are enough to make
The dimmest and dullest of minds
Feel stricken and stabbed
With all that he's jabbed:
His kicks are gained heeding your bind.
Showcases of joy,
He seeks to employ:
Even if it's at your expense,
He'll take your dismay,
And cast it away!
Despite his obvious offense...
Mar 29, 2017
Mar 29, 2017 at 1:33 AM UTC
Mustard & Mayonnaise sandwiches
Because nobody grocery shops in this place
After some time I learned to adapt
So it just became the new way
Oversleeping through breakfast
Lunch is noon and night
Mustard & Mayonnaise sandwiches
Because they satisfy my appetite
I begged my dad for turkey and Swiss
But he always managed to forget
And when friends asked "what do you got to eat"?
I'd say Mustard & Mayonnaise sandwiches
It's the little things we remember when we grow up
The dullest things can be so significant
They're a symbol of my childhood,
Those Mustard & Mayonnaise sandwiches
Nov 2, 2016
Nov 2, 2016 at 11:44 AM UTC
*The dullest of backgrounds
In the unimaginative shape of cheap and cheapened unpainted wallpaper
Gives even this, the palest of pale faces, a colour
Unfortunately, a blue and purple vein occasioned twinge,
Does little to flatter smooth foreheads and tight jaws
Fortunately, boundless space and air thick with smothered apprehension
Give plentiful reflection potential for the last lazed rays that have wandered,
waning, through a harsh window open to drain the space more than fill it
Until, upon finding wet blue upon dry white
A frivolous rainbow flickers in the classic tear
On the perfect cheek between this smooth forehead and tightish jaw
Below the eye, one tiny, flickering, frivolous rainbow
For no one to see*
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 3:44 PM UTC
"...our poor romance was for a moment reflected, pondered upon, and dismissed like a dull party, like a rainy picnic to which only the dullest bores had come, like a humdrum exercise, like a bit of dry mud caking her childhood." V Nabokov
How easy it is to confuse love with hatred
Like what they poured on your soul was acid
Slowly but surely the two opposites bounded
Every moment you spent is now clouded
Welcome to the moment you dreaded
Because slowly that hate disappears
Was it numbed by all those beers?
No, I'm just tired of the pasts' sneers
"Remember? He made you happy!
No, I'm just tired of all those tears
Now it's your heart that hurts with my spears
All those pains faded away
Elsewhere, I led them astray
You're dead to me, go decay
I don't love you, I daresay
Surprise! Viciousness is my forte.
Nov 24, 2012
Nov 24, 2012 at 7:58 PM UTC
There are some days, the dullest kind.
When the sun doesn't shine on you.
The sun rays,
they don't enter your soul or your room.
And the sky appears all dark and gloom.
Those are the kind of days, darling.
When you have to smile.
All your broken pieces, you must align.
And create your own sunshine.
Sayali
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 7:26 AM UTC
The circular confectionery tin has been there every Christmas
often replaced, often changed for a different brand
either way
every year we curse our brains and slap our wrists
for the temptation which overwhelms us
and our carefree nature, wholeheartedly encouraged by our family
''Go on, it's Christmas.''
And so, which one do we select?
of course, the one we like the most
the one with the prettiest wrapper
or the smoothest taste
the one we laugh, bewildered at others for not liking
Sneaking downstairs at night to grab a handful of our favourite flavour
to make sure nobody else can have your preference
until
eventually
all of your favourites are gone
so you settle for the ones you like, but would never choose originally
these are the second best chocolates
they have a mediocre wrapper and a pleasant taste
but they are nothing compared to the ones you would always choose
But now, you've had all of these as well
and you stare into the near-empty tin, rattling with the dull sound of the unwanted chocolates
for a moment you contemplate why anybody would eat those ones first
the colours are mundane and the taste is far from favourable
until somebody else walks past
and they peer into the tin
a hint of pleasant surprise sounds from their lips
''Oh, my favourite.''
And they select the 'dullest' chocolate left in the tin
because the faded purple is their favourite colour
and the sharp taste of orange lacquer is their favourite taste
and they wonder why you ate all the caramel chocolates first
because they would have left them until last
And now the tin is empty
every chocolate loved
by a different person
with a different taste
and when you think about what you truly love
you finally understand
Sep 20, 2013
Sep 20, 2013 at 8:46 PM UTC
Always the same
Again
This cyclic life
Fuller than the sun, reaching further and yet its rays touch me merely for a second
Hidden by clouds
The dullest drizzle
For miles my sadness sounds
A different outfit everyday to cover the same dreary routine
The same feelings poisoning my being, brimming over till it spills
Spills over and never recedes
Like gloom grows, the day slows
Always the same
A race of worker bees we've become,
Ourselves to blame
We work to live but never live
Living for the future is to not live at all
Should I pass through the clouds this dawn I would never know you or this life
I'd never know consuming heartbreak
I'd never feel the unrelenting wrath of grief
The feeling of depthless love or shallow lust
I'm covered in clothes to hide my skin
My skin to hide my manifesting malaise
Sick of the same and the everlasting train with no seeming destination
If I jump will I see my dream
Or will I be lost, lost to this life
And it's damning merry-go round of everything acutely grey
I wonder as I try to find air
Are you the surface I can't reach,
Drowning so fast
It's as if I'm sinking
The shackles of society have tied my ankles to rocks
Drag down
Never to breathe
Never to see
Only to drown
Saccharine seconds relieve me temporarily but I can't ever feel free
There is no thirst and I have no reason to give you as to why I get up each morning
Get up just to see how far I am from feeling the sun still
It grinds me into the dirt and cripples my will
I want it to stop
Again
Never again
But I haven't the strength for mine to end
And so continues the heaves I breathe
And the darkness I see
Over and beginning again
K.G
Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 6:45 AM UTC
Live your life to the fullest
Don’t let it become the dullest
Forget about those aches and pain
As long as you are able to move that is what should remain
Also at the same time, don’t let anyone drive you in sane
You worked hard to see your retiring years
You have wisdom, but have no fear
Those are your years to preserver
Tell the rocking chair to rock itself
You are not like everybody else
Being a senior citizen doesn’t mean you are the forgotten one
It means you are experienced and no how to get things done
Perhaps you loss your true soul mate
Get out and enjoy and find another romantic date
Get involved in hobbies that capture your interest in relate
Don’t even bother on thinking in hesitate
Nursing homes are for people who have given up
Act like a Broadway musical and stump
Doctor’s are more interested in your provider of health care
Yet keep your eyes open and always beware
God has opened your mind
You were given knowledge with everything combined
As a Senior, you were meant to live
You are the opportunity in give.
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 4:29 PM UTC
The spells I cast
have been achieved
by others.
Leave me to
my dullest needle.
This sting only
numbs the pain.
Candle light improves
my perception.
Silhouettes live out
their time in all
dimensions.
Time carries itself
upon the
wings of memories.
I only try and make
sense to me.
Loving and Leaving
are old reissued
beginnings in
my world.
Freedoms momentarily,
forever has never
been longer than
a year.
She promised me
almost everything,
and yet the
Dragon won my
heart.
I did not look
up as she walked
herself out.
I watched time
watching me
and made
no effort
to change it.
Feb 20, 2014
Feb 20, 2014 at 11:15 PM UTC
even the dullest of knives
can **** —
a smile has fallen deep into
the silence.
wincing on and off
like terrible vertigo.
it is you lashing across
dispersing images
seeping like ruthless mileage
underneath the bone.
you come in the room
full of these hours splintered
an outpour with a foreboding,
like spindrift you wet my lips
sealed shut and silence
is all the language i understand.
what good is there that this hungry
cavalcade gapes its mouth
and metastasizes like an opulent
laugh as maniacal as drum-taps?
your are river with feet or pond
sprawling mad, enigmatical.
is this the clearing motes depart,
unhinging the crepuscular
and fade out, as a cat shrieks tumbling writhing fornication of metal and rust?
even sleep cannot manage such realness,
and the doubleness of its comatose
or say, a war in spite of its radical
artillery. between two cities lost,
its indefatigable exertion pullulates
to a hand, laying garlands
over the same blue lament of sky
and the unawakened orioles.
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 6:03 AM UTC