"embellishes" poems
What I am,
Is not what you are,
Because unlike you, I never was human.
Never was able to really feel emotions, which you all adore,
Been called a demon for that reason, a monster which was deserted,
Emptiness, calm and drenched in the sorrow of never fitting in is what embellishes me, an ornament of true, cruel sadness, undetected.
And yes, I don't understand you, perhaps I don't even want to, knowing what humans are like, I accepted my fate of being alone,
I let my fingernails grow long and sharp to at least fit into the picture of a monster you have put me, because what else do I have left ?
A heart, perhaps which desires to take those under its wing whom suffered the same tragity, orphans with no place or rejected, abused.
And a body, carrying a thousand marks done by a knife, or these nails, in a cold desperate wishing to be normal at least for a day, to not be alone and deserted, with no one left to talk but a silly pen, a pocket watch which is about to stop ticking calmly, gently very soon.
An ember of light, triggers some emotions at rare occasions, which fade into nothingness as the day begins to face it's end, ah, phantoms
So, what I am,
Is not what you are,
Because I am...
A demon.
~ Umi
Apr 14, 2018
Apr 14, 2018 at 6:00 PM UTC
Along with the last moment to complete any homework,
one was instructed to etch name, number and form
upon the tag that lurked within the rim of each new polo shirt,
every pair of trousers and that stretched, sleeved jumper
(better than any other in the house that were just the same).
Without those legal details properly stated you’d run the risk of losing them to lost property,
that orchestrated tub, dead sea stench, of pre-pubescent potpourri.
Now, all we wear is the earned income of a bestowed cognomen
and it embellishes the backs of our necks
and we mustn’t forget it’s all we have;
that, and our teachers.
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 7:44 AM UTC
1.
*Her bleary red eyes
tired from carrying heavy load on her head-
all day long, while harsh sun was beating down,
still looks beautiful like a doe's, in the soft light of dusk;
with wonder they peer, at the glinting necklace,
extending down the night's blue black *******
Are they white diamonds or moon drops,
falling from the clear part of the sky
just now freed from the hold of clouds?
Like an eagle, sudden lightening swoops down,
exposing trees hiding in darkness,
reminding ogres, that come chasing her in nightmares.
But the flash embellishes the cloud, the shy moon takes cover;
the cloud in that moment, transforms to a sheer silvery dress-
for the moon to wear proudly, at any temple fair.
2.
The celestial dance of light and darkness
is stunning; makes her wonder aloud:
"Such beauty! I only need this to forget my pains"
with sweet power, it hits her, bringing to her mind,
the waves of pleasure erupted from her *****
that she felt once, just once, with her man.
She couldn't understand, how it happened, life still hides some secrets.
It was like a randy male goat, barging in to her home compound,
opening the closed gate swiftly, hitting softly with its head,
for a brief moment, she didn't know what happened, and how
the waves of pleasure, swept her off her feet, she floated, like a cloud,
in her sun scorched life, that never happened again.
3.
Existing as a cacophony as long as it is awake, the village,
is still, went to sleep, except moon and a few like her,
the chattering of women in the market had died down
dogs do not bark, the drunks aren't cursing dogs
or clashing with others who come their way.
Late at this hour, a lone night owl stirs,
his urgent hoots, resound making him more egregious.
She would go to sleep, if the owl stops,
then, to his snores she would turn a deaf ear as usual,
and let him slither like a snake,
in his part of the bed till morning breaks,
When--
it's again time for her to trek to the well too far,
to fetch water, before the women of next village,
come flocking with pots and pails.*
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 12:50 PM UTC
Scintillating stars infinitely descend
Lambent soot embellishes the radius
Regimens purely exist to bend
Scintillating stars infinitely descend
An occult memorandum impends
Doctrines make not amends
Scintillating stars infinitely descend
Lambent soot embellishes the radius
May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 2:59 PM UTC
The unimpeachable glasses are fogging,
as they tentatively ignore the premonition,
while ignoring the suppressive partition,
that defends themselves from submission.
The eyes detect,
with unreasonable rest,
the hazy, shadowy terrain,
that prevents them from pain.
If the mugginess stays,
and the heart embellishes the fade,
then the glasses maintain,
their authoritarian reign.
Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 9:12 PM UTC
Eyes huddled in fear,
That paralyzing fear in front of bullets mercilessly sprayed,
Deep sprayed by the cruelty, which must be fed
With victims,
Those defenseless victims of hate,
That dreadful hate ,which is fed with love
As well as
Pleasure is fed with pain,
That extreme pain ,which embellishes the madness,
That round madness like a cold moisturized rosy-red,
A rosy-red ring-shaped patches and giant Quincke swelling
And a boisterous cooling noisy breathing,
Snorting breath like groaning a song ,
A love song for the dance of death,
A painful death for the warm puppets,
Beautiful puppets becoming cold wax mannequins,
Bleak mannequins screaming in their red rain
Of feelings,
Red feelings coloring their sad moments,
Cool moments of winter fires
In caves of shadows.
Nov 9, 2011
Nov 9, 2011 at 3:00 PM UTC
Time degrades, that is a matter of fact.
That which does not degrade only exists within the mind,
But minds degrade too, and what can an animal do when its cage caves in on itself?
Time removes, that is a matter of reason.
That which remain eternally only exists in realms beyond our imagination,
But imagination can only get you so far, and what can your creativity do when you come upon the incomprehensible?
Time embellishes, that is a matter of deduction.
That which remains in obscurity only need more time,
But time forgets, and what remains of the colossal wreck when a million years past?
Nov 18, 2024
Nov 18, 2024 at 10:55 PM UTC
My breath is stolen...
In this moment of perfection.
Comfortably seated at the base of this tree.
But, you are missing.
As I look up-
The brilliant sun's light
piercing through the limbs and leaves
As they sway gently with the breeze
Oh how I wish you could see this...
My spirit embellishes in this..
The sounds-
The warmth-
This moment...
is God.
The highest power...
Strong enough to make a strong woman
such as myself-
melt.
Into the helpless seduction
of such pure peace.
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 9:33 PM UTC
Wood.
Metal.
A flower petal.
Power settles,
for nothing less
than to always press
to the point of stress
fractures, where it relishes
in the pain, and embellishes
its grandiosity, builds trellises
over rivers of fire
over hills of barbed wire,
where flowers do quote
metal's eternal gloat
over wood's rickety boat
which burns in the river
and births but a sliver
to the man upon its bow
while metal does plow
along much further
and flowers do wither
but grow soon again
where wood is burnin'
and grows all too slow
to counter river's flow.
Metal a tool,
eternal fool,
denying the flower,
a taste so sour,
Tree is fuel,
fire so cruel.
Jun 10, 2013
Jun 10, 2013 at 3:54 AM UTC
The wind is rushing thru the willows
they arch and bend but do not break
the gusts of air are strong with power
unanchored on the porch, things shake.
The green carpet rolls itself into a ball
the chairs around a table fold and fall
large big stuff holds solidly in place
things that go in motion are mostly small,
I feel some drops of rain but not too much
no thunder and no lightning do appear
the torrent of the wind is hard and steady
my dog takes caution - into the house
he won't return outside until he's ready.
I stand, let the hurried breezes hit my face
like a sea captain , most assured, would do
bracing myself alone - against the storm
happy and contented, to see it through.
In grudging, humble admiration, I submit
to nature's sudden, wild and wacky ways
it's rare and scarce and quite bewildering
it livens up and and embellishes my days.
Sep 8, 2020
Sep 8, 2020 at 12:35 AM UTC
The rudiments of love are vested deep within the soul. Like the bleeding sands of time, our feelings can't control--An aggregation of desire, filled by many things. The light that fuels our fire, embellishes our surroundings.
We shut our eyes but cannot sleep,
we hold our breath,
clinch our teeth.
We tremble at the slightest brush, our hearts awaken from this rush! & just when we expect the flame to yield, it torches the entire battlefield!
This leaves behind a humble scene, of ash, & smoke, & broken dreams... At which point only time can heal, but merely to form another battlefield?
I believe that we were made for more, that pain is something we should endure, that life is more than a half-filled glass, but a powerful teacher of poise & class! & I, for one, will never mistake the advantages of a lost-love fate!
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 2:51 PM UTC
Human beings are reckless developments.
Our minds are to destroy.
Let me explain, you see human beings are the only species with the concept of self-destruction without a real purpose.
Do you comprehend?
Let me clarify by giving you a scenario.
Close your eyes.
Well, figuratively you need to read this first.
You just moved into the most beautiful house you could ever imagine.
The one you’ve been envisioning since you were a wee child.
Now, you sit on your comfy couch and just relax in your beautiful new house.
You have everything you could possibly want, but now you’re bored.
Getting used to the décor you once thought unique and beautiful.
You decide you want more, something different, something better.
You go into the kitchen and notice there is something not quite right.
I should smash that wall, you think to yourself. Create an open concept.
So, that is exactly what you do, tear up that wall.
What once was beautiful is now gone.
What you once held as a goal is now your past.
But you have that open concept you never wanted now.
That my friend is how the human mind works we destroy to create.
Yet, what we don’t realize is that we hardly appreciate the goodness of which is given to us.
The goodness of which we have always dreamt.
We become comfortable.
We become bored.
And the vicious cycle for more embellishes and plagues our keen minds.
We destroy to become.
We destroy for it.
It being us, our species.
Us being our brain.
The brain being our end.
Because one day, it will become so powerful that we, our own species, will become too dull for our own senses and we will push our own mortality, our own meaning to the point of abolishment.
And that folks will the culmination of our reckless development to extinction.
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 1:14 AM UTC
The image of a woman stuns me -
My fiver year old daughter’s flower,
Left in green thin wrap to wilt
Now stuck through the water
In the giant plastic glass
I keep by my sink, opening,
Vibrant, in the incandescent light
As I brush my teeth and tongue
Spitting dreams one instant, then
Studying tooth stain and belly
Overlapping the new day
And my naked soul diffused.
A pink carnation spreads across the bath
As much aware of me as the effort
Needed to crush the moist petals
Isolates intent from joy
And fragile insights blossom
Into observation nearly lost.
Now, I delight; though, only now
A giant plastic glass filled
Sustains a few moments: embellishes
Simple life almost lost unnoticed
In the crisp and folded expectations
Of foregone conclusions.
Her mother stands naked too, her hand
Touching her soft skin wilting softer
And her soft ******* softer still – and desire
Crumbles unnoticed in a delicate heap -
Yet an unearthed Flower ***** the air and
Blooms easily through its final hours.
It somehow makes sense that
My daughter’s flower blooms
While the image of a woman stuns me,
And the water and light infuse my soul
Tightly aware that confounded and confused
I comfort her like a stem.
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 2:38 AM UTC
it reminds me of the mid August heat
of his old decaying teeth
it reminds me of the smell of paint
and music that makes me happy
of ukuleles
and faint bird chirps
of sumptuous velvet by my bare toes
and icing on cake
of cereal and sunday mornings
and mom’s freckles in the sun
of thunder and lightning
and mattresses pressed against my back
of the gold he embellishes me with
and old recordings on tape
of ee cummings and maya angelou
and a time were it was easier to live, but harder to survive
of Cleopatra and reigning women
of God and answered prayers.
yellow reminds me of elation and euphoria
and a field of sunflowers aching for me to dive in.
Nov 18, 2018
Nov 18, 2018 at 9:14 AM UTC
Them leaving my life or I walking out of their lives was not the end,
You entering it was just another
Beginning,
Your kindness heals me,
Your caring soothes me,
You making one with me embellishes me....
My healing!
Jul 11, 2019
Jul 11, 2019 at 1:23 PM UTC
For you my love the river bends,
and monsoon rain abruptly ends
Trees one sagging, lean toward sky
in case, per chance, you happen by
For you my dear,
the babbling brook quiets itself
in hopes you mistake it for a majestic stream
while dandelions stand on end
to appear as sunflowers
in the oft chance
that your gaze will fall upon petals
For you my sweet,
even the crescent moon embellishes
so as to seem nearly full
to attract your momentary glance
while winter waves
warm themselves
to tempt you
to dance
and splash among them
But you, my love, notice only me,
and I my love, only you
for in our world,
there are only two
No matter what the
world will do
Jun 22, 2017
Jun 22, 2017 at 10:50 PM UTC
The root of my pain,
Every stretch of communication,
Breaking my own heart ten times over,
Drowning in misinformation.
Which story to believe,
He said this, she said that,
Some dice have many faces,
Who wears the true hat?
A storyteller spins many stories,
Embellishes to add flare,
Who is telling this story?
Should the reader be aware?
We come back cause its easy,
I know this to be true,
Alas, the road less taken calls me,
This chapter ends with you.
Aug 22, 2021
Aug 22, 2021 at 2:51 PM UTC
To be a woman is to be objectified.
Through your eyes,
I am never just a soul wearing skin,
I am only skin. A body.
And this body
has been too thin.
Not thin enough.
Beautiful, but only when it gives you what you want.
I’ve been told to change, to squeeze,
to mold myself into your ideal:
perfect skin, perfect shape,
a perfect everything,
forever growing younger instead of older.
But I don’t need your commentary.
I don’t want your opinions.
Because I don’t need you to want me.
I don’t want to be craved,
I want to be earned.
This body is just a vessel.
My soul is what quenches thirst.
It loves, not to ****** but to nurture.
It builds, it softens, it embellishes your light.
Only the emotionally fluent
and the spiritually grounded
may proceed to touch this mind,
or this body.
I am not for everyone.
Nor do I want to be.
Jul 25, 2025
Jul 25, 2025 at 8:52 PM UTC
God was ignited within me when my lungs felt their first breath, when my body was recolored due to the oxygen that permeated me
nineteen years later I see him as an Artist, my artist-
The willingness to create and make with outside forces critiquing and verbally destroying every formation signed by his name.
His work is clear when the earth is painted from a distance, the landscape adorning the horizon.
An individual as a canvas- With his paintbrush that is God he strokes and embellishes on a person until they are to his likeness- with elaborate detail we become our own and to others we are seen as a price, or more so an accomplishment generated by a being who sees beauty in everything.
He, our creator, is a mosaic and we are the pieces gathered together, brought by the winds that act as his angels; to fit together perfectly, or not so perfectly, creating a world of color, and diversity.
He is not only an artist of fine paintings and drawings, but of sculptures and modern looks.
He creates to give each canvas a sense of self, individuality.
He creates so that others are moved by his work, so that they too see him in every sketch, abstract figure, printed graphic, and illustration. He is the outline of every innovated design.
He is what I see and what I feel; He is the beginning and end to everything beautiful.
Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 10:26 PM UTC
I realised after bouncing back that
It was too beautiful to be true
Too wonderful to last, so I sighed
The only thing I could do when you ended
All that made US, All that made you and I
ONE
So, Only the nice pictures left, the pain feels
lighter, a little pinch in my heart is still here
But still more bearable and manageable now
It appealed so much like the "it was meant to be"
Perfect
The thing now was that, I hit a stage when I know
my worth and the reason why I could not insist was
that I was very much ready for someone who wants
To hold on to me, who is ready to receive all that
I could give, you were not ready, or wanted a pretense of
Freedom
I cherished this whole experience, of finally hitting
somebody that completes me, embellishes me, doing
everything to complete my happiness, I might be
writing these few words, so that in two or three years
these would be the words of, how I am feeling now
on this bizarre but still wonderful 1st of October so
Quiet
You gave me joy and peace, and the very experience
only true lovers can go through, when midnight hits
And it's all I can take, the good and the great, how
could I take a piece of the cake that I am used to eat
Whole
So, I walk away, I would not have given my friendship
To whom removes me, the so unique love I so asked
For!
Oct 1, 2017
Oct 1, 2017 at 1:30 PM UTC
Just listen to how the winds whisper,
and feel how the air begins to change;
With springtime nearer to our hearts,
calming breezes shift as leaves rearrange.
Colors of jade from the trees above,
their robust fullness since aroused;
And when the sparkling rain arrives,
each leaf is engaged in subtle tosses.
While cool emerald grasses wave hello,
and greet us gently with their wonder;
Sweet are the winds from lilac bushes,
their scent strewn above and yonder.
We welcome the colors of blissful days,
as our hair flies softly toward the skies;
And May's sunlit beauty embellishes the scene,
when we capture each breeze through our eyes.
May 16, 2023
May 16, 2023 at 7:59 PM UTC