"embodiment" poems
Let the world always remember,
That fateful day in September,
And the ones who answered duty's call,
Should be remembered by us all.
Who left the comfort of their home,
To face perils as yet unknown,
An embodiment of goodness on a day,
When men's hearts had gone astray.
Sons and daughters like me and you,
Who never questioned what they had to do,
Who by example, were a source of hope,
And strength to others who could not cope.
Heroes that would not turn their back,
With determination that would not crack,
Who bound together in their ranks,
And asking not a word of thanks.
Men who bravely gave their lives,
Whose orphaned kids and widowed wives,
Can proudly look back on their dad,
Who gave this country all they had.
Actions taken without regret,
Heroisms we shall never forget,
The ones who paid the ultimate price,
Let's never forget their sacrifice.
And never forget the ones no longer here,
Who fought for the freedoms we all hold dear,
And may their memory never wane,
Lest their sacrifices be in vain.
09-30-10b.
Dec 30, 2011
Dec 30, 2011 at 1:31 AM UTC
I had my first dream last night that you weren't in.
not even a minor character,
your ****** name wasn't even in the credits,
let alone plastered across the sky in flashing lights
like you want it to be.
my first reality that you didn't belong in,
and it was the most blissful peace that I can remember since we bathed in pools of cloud.
I heard the first song that didn't make me think of you yesterday.
the lyrics, for once, were just lyrics,
not an embodiment of you and the things you do.
guess what?
it was coldplay.
you always hated coldplay.
this morning, I basked in the sun and didn't picture you coated in gold light beside me.
I didn't look at the leaves adorning the trees and picture your face laughing beneath it.
I didn't trace the plate lines of my palm and imagine the earthquake we used to create when yours collided with mine.
I didn't eat new food that I wanted you to try and I didn't want to share the smallest details of my day with you.
you may have won this poem, loverboy,
but don't be too triumphant.
your victory won't last long.
it's the era of my new beginnings without you and I'm going to be just fine.
Jun 10, 2018
Jun 10, 2018 at 8:04 AM UTC
He dreamed he was loved.
A love guarded fiercely, with passion.
A love that was not unconditional.
Not the blank slate love of a child
or an animal so programmed by instinct.
This love was willful and earned.
Having glimpsed an injured brilliance
beneath the flab and sweat and stench she weaned it to health.
Making it stronger, and brighter,
and more prominent with each passing day; until it erupted.
And he was transformed.
to embody that brilliance.
And she protected that embodiment.
Letting nothing call it to question.
She cared for him as he never could for himself.
She soothed and softened
and loved the deep furrow from his brow.
And her passion overwhelmed him.
And he wanted for nothing.
And when he opened his eyes
To **** and filth
with only the kiss of concrete
and the banter of horns
and obscenities
and footsteps.
******* FOOTSTEPS.
Heels pittering purposefully to mask exhausted uncertainty
Brogues, and wingtips clicking; with a cocky juvenile illusion of importance.
Boots plodding heavily under the weight of duty,
to build, and fix, and secure for the others.
And through a fog laid thick and throbbing
by poisons chased dutifully the night before;
he felt her fierce love for a fleeting moment
Guarding, and loving his shining brilliance
until it erupted from him;
With bile and blood, **** and regret
coldly rejected by his concrete companion.
And she was gone once again.
Aug 4, 2018
Aug 4, 2018 at 11:04 AM UTC
I see you, monster...
In your sockets bore dead, dark eyes
They hold the blackest of stares
Nebulous swirling pits of demise
Thin lips would spout the most sibilant of hisses
Every so often would curl into a snarl
Dry and chapped, almost unworthy of kisses
Large, rough snout, jutting out like a crag
You sniff around tirelessly for easy targets
Preying on the unsuspecting minds of those under your flag
Tapering chin, sprouting strands of coarse hair
Unkempt and gritty from your last meal
Decaying teeth, crooked due to little to no care
Your face is cratered; tales of trying adolescent years
Wearing a face only a mother could love
Expressionless but it screams out your fears
Ugly jointed limbs that grew out of sync
Disproportionate, misshapen, grotesque
Little noggin with sparse hair, packed within, a brain that thinks
I hear you, monster...
As you stalk your sleepless nights
Nocturnal ambience be your playground
Lurking in the dark; places with no light
Bulky, heavy feet but deft and silent
Can barely notice when you're up and about
As if cloaked yourself stealthy, with steps ever transient
Respire you do, exhaling breaths so gnarly
Ingesting good air, converting into fervid, loathsome notions
With which you paint a portrait so ghastly
I feel you monster...
Deep within the recesses of my heart
Destroying and distorting all that was pure
Testing my will till I should fall apart
You're but the twisted manifestation of conscience
Feeding on my trials and nurturing them into vile abominations
I despise that of you but I seem to have developed dependence
I see you, monster...
You're horrid and beastly, an embodiment of absolute horror
I await the day that you would finally dissolve
For I am weary of seeing you staring back in the mirror
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 9:23 PM UTC
What truly is the definition of righteousness?
Is it determined by act or by mind?
They say a good man fights for justice, peace, and prosperity.
But then, can a man of such moral truly remain so
if he turns to violence as an answer?
Does his intent to create marvels render him of moral status
though his methods may empower death and promote war?
Oh, this man is peaceful himself,
taking letters instead of bullets to battle
but his lyrics dislodge society in a manner not all approve
and so begins combat.
Can this soul carry such holy title,
if the repercussions of his strung together words are strung up necks?
Or is the good man the one who turns away from the world's fight
to be his own embodiment of ethical beauty?
For the one who remains silent causes no direct pain;
he himself is passive and tranquil
and moves to inspire such conduct in others without commanding it.
But his silence encourages fierce vehemency and wildness.
Does this fact not taint his name?
The first man had pure intent,
but with his tongue he spit sparks
which others used to ignite a fire and burn the world.
The second did not fight himself
but his chosen hush could never end the blood rain,
and so his lack of sharp verbosity allowed knives to flash and blood to spill.
So I will ask again,
what determines morality?
Though this time with a grounding response;
morals define morality.
Each man's mind renders his own flawless ideal individually,
and so one's perfection will always be another's monstrosity.
In truth? There are no good men,
or at least not one to all.
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 10:35 PM UTC
*She will lose herself in a book
and find herself in poetry
She thinks that religion is a sacrilege
and that long showers are sacred
She makes love when she's tired
and never tires of making love
She is irreverent in her humor
and pious in her gravity
She is diligent in completing her work
and ambitious of her quest for leisure
She is the personification of romanticism
and the embodiment of compassion
She exists harmoniously in my mind*
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 8:32 PM UTC
In a time,
when men were the superheroes,
born in an unconventional location,
a young girl, unknown to the future
she was destined to,
was born with a uniqueness
unfound in all people, a superpower
of empathy
and as she grew,
the world knew
she was imbued
as a living embodiment of legends:
Athena's wisdom,
beauty that surpassed the goddess Aphrodite,
conversational skills that made Hermes envious,
and strength that Hercules
could never attain.
As she approached an age, when her parents would
trust her to be guardian,
her powers manifested.
This incredible child was now a woman.
With the ability to heal those in need: she could expunge
poison that had afflicted a person,
even their hearts,
a God-given gift for those most sacred;
her correspondences exponentially developed,
able to connect in all languages, fueled by her empathetic nature,
this allowed all who interacted with her to trust her for she radiates sincerity.
Now, fully grown, this super-no-
This Wonder Woman had retired her duties
to save the world, not forsake it, but,
to train Wonder Girl, her daughter,
to unlock the latent abilities her mother had passed on to her.
She still looks up at the Higher Power
and realizes her duty to provide
the world justice is not over
but only beginning.
Her holy spirit was not unacknowledged
and was gifted
a bulletproof bracelet,
forged by the most skilled craftsman by direction
of all that is wise and healing.
Given to her to wear
so that nothing could halt her
as she continues
her fate to provide the world a humanity
that could only come from
an intrinsically true
dear heart.
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 12:17 AM UTC
i steal.
i smoke.
i drink.
i gamble.
i punch.
i hurt.
i ****
you see me as red. the ever color of anger.
you see me as green. the hue of greed and disgust.
you see me as black. the epitome of darkness.
but i'm in every way just like you.
i cry.
i fall.
i get hurt.
i get sick.
i get scared.
i make mistakes.
i die.
you don't see me as blue. a sadness conformed into a hue.
you don't see me as purple. an embodiment of fear.
you don't see me as white. the ever innocent color.
because before I was this, I was just like you.
and i guess you'll never see how the evil in me brought out the good in you.
Apr 27, 2018
Apr 27, 2018 at 1:57 AM UTC
**I'm an anxiety driven teen ******
I let my fears drag me on a leash.
I make the wrong choices in every situation
And I can never really sleep.
My meals consist of nothing.
I feel overweight and unclean.
I feel mostly suicidal
But I can't **** myself
I'm afraid of the unseen.
I am a walking paradox.
Tired but won't sleep.
Hungry but won't eat.
I am the embodiment of stupid
But isn't that every teen?
**I'm an anxiety driven teen ******
Just give up on me and leave.
Tear me up into pieces,
And run from the crime scene.
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 10:55 AM UTC
What was the point of this reverie
If it just came and walked away
Bringing my soul
Strolling again
Those deserted roads
That once cherished our presence
Were you there
Expecting me
Or was it just an embodiment
Of the memories of our ordeal
Who was the actual one
Who willingly became a liar
Who was the first person
Who built mushy hope
Before crushing it
Without any grounds you toyed with my heart
Like disastrous hurricane
That unexpectedly surged and vanished
You were only a shadow
Of wretched past
Whom sometimes got carried away
By my unsettled endless dream.
Aug 4, 2021
Aug 4, 2021 at 6:50 AM UTC
Tip of the hat in recognition
To all devoted women and mothers,
Your love, care,strength, and devotion
Knows no bound like earth's weather
Like the morning star you shine
And lit the path to life;
Like a great messiah you fine
Rest for the family you have.
The laughter of your children always
Excite you and fills you with joy.
Through thick and thing you always
Stick around to show your love;
You're an embodiment of life greatest gift;
For you're twenty persons in one for us:
You're a teacher and a great therapist,
You're a doctor and a great nurse ,
You're a achef and a great baker
You're a driver and a great instructor
You're a daughter and great mother
You're a guardian and a great protector
You're a supporter and great superwoman
You're a queen and a great matriarch
You're a home maker and a great career woman
You're an archetype of motherhood and matriarch.
Whoever said: "Jack of all trade master
Of none" has never met you, in your home;
Like the great Elephant matriarch You master
The best skills and route of motherhood.
Jul 12, 2019
Jul 12, 2019 at 1:03 PM UTC
Graciously kneeling before me;
Driven by thirst.
Coerced by lust.
curropted by desire.
Entranced by your aura.
Raw passion eruding flesh.
Your swells: their embodiment.
Fixated on the rush---
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 9:59 PM UTC
i just really hate the term puppy love.
makes me sound like i'm way over my head
simply caught up with the clouds high above
and not gonna stop myself till i'm dead
rather, it's a cherry blossom romance
beautiful, brilliant and illuminating
sweet and pleasant, putting me into trances
a fire in me so strongly burning.
i hate the word crush with burning passion
makes this love feel fragile and soft-boiled
i know myself well, there's no confusion
at that point in time, my heart's fully-booked
let's call it a sakura rendezvous:
where raw, feral love comes into full bloom.
burning bright, though eventually withering:
'twas an embodiment of maturity.
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 12:24 PM UTC
his lips would remind you of cold tuesday afternoons made for coffee and falling apart. he never really kissed with so much intimacy but he kissed me nonetheless, and maybe those were enough — those steady, demanding kisses, until all i'm left with are sighs and shoulders carved with his name. my fingers, lost in his hair, like withered roses catching fire. my lips, swollen and red, like sunsets begging for the night to come home. my heartbeats, carelessly, hastily stitched inside the hem of his sleeves.
but i stayed in his apartment, slept in his bed, and wore his clothes; like an incoherent word misplaced in a haystack, like a poem, half-naked on the kitchen sink, unraveled by the faintest brushes of skin. slow and claiming. fast and rough. he never really held me close enough, tight enough, but he held me nonetheless, and for a while — just for a while, i could pretend that he wasn't the embodiment of all the things i got to hold but could never get to keep.
he never really looked at me with love or with an intensity that burns, but he gazed nonetheless — almost lost and lust-hazed; calculating and restrained, like i was every poetry he wasn't supposed to write but had written anyway. and i gazed back, at my hands resting against steady movement of his chest, at his dim-morning eyes, at the slight part of his lips.
and his lips — i know they would remind you of cold tuesday afternoons, made for coffee and falling apart. and i know that it wasn't love.
it wasn't love,
but it's pretty close.
Nov 11, 2019
Nov 11, 2019 at 7:29 AM UTC
Dear ancestors hear my voice
On this Samhain eve I have a
Message for you
Be sure I have found my love
A love that releases me
The version of me you may not know
The one that I have became
It is true that this love has grown
Grown into a perfect and lasting covenant
Love that is rare and true
She is the embodiment of me in a
Special and all seeing person
She has given me sight to see the world in its glory
The Vision of which I have never known
She has given me heart to carry on when all seems lost
Courage to face each day
The tenacity to make the most of my life and of hers
The soul that we share is complete in the extreme
It is extreme as it is perfect and as one
She gives me more than this more than I could ever
Ever ever say.
I found her just six years ago
She came to me in a rush of circumstance
Something unexpected and yet hoped for
I can say much of this but all I need to say
Is that I love her so dearly it hurts
It hurts because life itself is so fragile.
I hold this love in my hand and cherish it
Cherish this day as we walk together into our
Seventh year through the mist and veil
Of Samhain, oh Samhain,
This is our time
Max Hale
Dedicted to my Jan on the anniversary of our meeting six years ago.
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 12:57 PM UTC
Yes I go, yes go to seek a Great Apocalypse
One that will unravel the complex elaboration of difference
To articulate a perpetual aesthetic with violated codes
Of the experience of illusions of temporal stimulus
That are beyond all compass and soothe a fragmentation
Oh Great Apocalypse of beauty whose deception finds strategies
For youthful prodigality and binds me to your inarticulation
An embodiment of beleaguered and charmed fictions
Whose artifice is the governance of generous impulses
As such sway about me with a harmony of moral disquiet
Inadequate in description of the qualities of their oppression
Yet oh great apocalypse there is a plausible generosity
In these pale assumptions of impatience which carry
The obligations of a universally shared human existence
Compelling a projection of charged issues on competing claims
For the enigmatic logic of life
Yes Great Apocalypse now I understand all thought
From Everywhere and for Always
Sep 15, 2012
Sep 15, 2012 at 12:18 PM UTC
In the chamber's cold embrace I lay,
A harbinger of despair, a silent plea.
Whispered secrets sealed in metallic skin,
Destined to bear the weight of a desperate sin.
Molded in the shadows I embraced my role,
Not by choice but by the hands that stole
A moment's respite in life's dark despair,
A choice, a whisper, suspended in the air.
From the barrel's mouth I was set free,
A messenger of sorrow, a tragic decree.
Through the void, I journeyed without refrain,
A vessel of anguish, an embodiment of pain.
Not for glory, nor a battlefield's embrace,
But to carve an exit from life's haunting space.
In that fleeting moment of cosmic disdain,
I traced a trajectory, untethered from the sane.
No solace in the cold metal that confined,
No redemption in the trajectory I defined.
A passage through the void, a desperate flight,
A silent scream swallowed by the endless night.
In the aftermath, echoes of a silenced cry,
A hollow testament to a soul's goodbye.
I bear witness to the aftermath's desolation,
As I rest in the silence of my own grim creation.
Dec 1, 2023
Dec 1, 2023 at 6:45 AM UTC
capricorn: someday you'll wake up and the sun will be reaching down your throat saying her batteries ran out and she needs to borrow yours
aquarius: someday you'll realize that a hurricane without an eye isn't worth it and i hope that's today
pisces: someday your mom will give you a life altering piece of advice and you'll sit for a minute and then disregard the entire thing
aries: someday you'll bite your tongue and someone else will scream in pain, you'll look at him and someone else will fall in love, congrats
taurus: someday you'll be the reason they whisper "love hurts just like morning coffee" in the hallways
gemini: someday the government will have made laws prohibiting certain behaviors, and all because of you
cancer: someday someone will grab your hands and tell you that they love you and yes, you should probably abandon hopes of being decent now
leo: someday you'll make the conscious decision to love someone and then wonder why it didn't work like you thought it would
virgo: someday you'll meet someone who you talk about sunsets and road trips and being the human embodiment of a storm with; love them hard
libra: someday you'll abandon taking photos of the sky and you'll later find yourself tasting colors in the back of your throat
scorpio: someday you'll get a coffee and give your name and the barista will write "very sad looking girl that looks like a walking orchid"
sagittarius: someday the sun will stop asking for your half of the rent
Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 11:21 PM UTC
Prescient, her essence
Casts a demure persuasion,
Endowed with verve and vision;
Concept to consummation,
The serenely possessed,
Creator, originator,
Allusion to the eternal azure,
Logos of abstraction,
Word and image collision.
Tonal palette of faith infused reason
Beauty and sublimity,
Serve to season
Verse, canvas and film,
Mediating aesthetic, seminal senses blossom,
Lyrical each permutation,
Seeds of vibrant chroma diffusing the mystical.
Visage and hair, her figure haunted
With perfection - a work of Art
Nurtured and lived invocation,
The canon of taste;
Crystal for the *****
Devotional fragrance ,
Holistic ethos, melodic invention,
Animated, pure -
The embodiment of redemption.
Transcending form, parenthetically
(Merely) the decorative,
Allure, artistry and symmetry
Superlative complexity,
Her erudition satiates, supplanting
Winds of constructive banality.
Purveyor of an uncommon savor,
She collaborates in the peculiar
Pursuit and reward,
Encounter with depth, explored,
Human and divine, prosaic meets sublime
Igniting within an Eros
Passion for truth, being and Telos.
Visionary of grace and peace
Transforming our earthbound dissonance;
Our caprice,
Hope and abundance, the myth of scarcity,
She narrates the Good.
Pen, lens, color and stage
Vulnerable, unrepressed, effusive
Romantic articulation,
The reservoir deep,
Innately primed conduit of Love.
Beyond plebeian, cosmetic, the trite
Woman of substance, pulchritude
And delight.
Effervescent - her smile exquisite,
Eclipsing suffering,
Wordless expression, understood language.
I am transported, my imagination replete,
Sonya Rose -
Art personified; unabridged, complete.
©2008 & 2013 W.S . Warner
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 12:28 PM UTC
I hate my body.
I am a walking embodiment of disappointment.
I pick at my face and my hair.
The girl beside me is beautiful
And she hates her body.
She is very meticulous when it comes to her image
but when she stops and looks in the mirror
She is disgusted by what she sees.
Why does she hate her perfect body?
her peers scrutinize her appearance daily
and tell her she is not beautiful.
Her friends hate their bodies too,
for reasons just the same.
It's a vicious cycle that I wish to break.
I will learn to love my body some day
but for now,
I do not like my body.
at least that's what my friends want me to think.
Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 10:46 AM UTC
With all of your mind, can you imagine…
living a sacred and a victorious Life,
whereby you become more like The Christ?
With all of your heart, can you believe…
that you’re covered by His righteousness
and an embodiment of God’s poetic finesse?
With all of your might, can you achieve…
the desires that He has purposed for you?
Can you envision His promises coming true
when daring to imagine, believe and trust Him?
Only your lack of Faith- can hold you back;
pray continually to fend off ungodly attacks
of evil, that originate within the darkness
of this world; know that you still possess
Salvation and have been… permanently blessed!
.
.
.
Author Notes
Inspired by:
1 John 5:4-5; 2 Cor 5:21; Rom 3:22, 6:23, 8:31-39;
Eph 2:8-10, 6:12; Isa 40:31; John 1:12; Prov 19:21
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2015, All rights reserved.
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 12:47 PM UTC
I am the embodiment of your sins.
I am your greed, gold in color and always asking for more.
I am your lust, swirling in amber with a slip of my tongue upon your flesh.
I am your wrath, rolling in a fit of redden anger.
I am your sloth, lounged in white, sleeping in between your sheets.
I am your gluttony, always craving more, more, more...
I am your pride, held purple in my state of royalty.
And
I am your envy, green with what never can fully be mine.
I am your sins. Full bodied. Anointed.
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 12:11 PM UTC
My mind is going weird again and hurting my head
I don't know what to make of it
I think
I want a male me
Or just me. I want another me. Doesn't necessarily have to be male. Can be female. Why not both. But I want another physical and spiritual embodiment of who I am as a person
A part of me just wants to hug and hold someone. And my head is automatically choosing said person, but the feeling of the mere hug and contact is overshadowing the identity of the person by a few degrees
I miss calloused hands roaming my body. And I miss body heat. I miss legs I can entangle mine with. I miss the crooks of necks. I miss snores emanating from a chest and hearing the rumble in the air from it. I miss tired faces resting and appearing destressed. I miss light groans as a body shifts positions in their sleep.
I think I can pinpoint what it is that I miss. Because although all sound like physical and verbal responses, it is not the actions, although they always go hand in hand.
I think I miss intimacy. But what is necessarily intimacy?
There's a few definitions as soon as one googles it
A close familiarity or closeness. A private, cozy atmosphere. A closeness of observation or knowledge of a subject.
My chest aches and pounds as I try to put my finger on what it is I'm searching for. The more it aches, the closer I am to finding my answer
Intimacy.
In-tih-mah-see.
In-to-me-see.
See-in-to-me.
Intimacy is to see in to me.
It is to let and allow someone to see you for who you are, to know what makes you a being.
But not necessarily in your head.
Intimacy is the knowledge of how another person's mind control's their body. How the body reacts to acts that can cause the mind to blank or move forward just off-beat of the body.
It's dragging your fingertips over their body and feeling the goosebumps rise as a laugh comes from the mouth over the words "popcorn butter is actually coconut oil with artificial flavoring" and feeling your eyes connect the dots between those goosebumps to their face and your brain noticing the connection between noises and nerve endings.
Intimacy is a weird state to be in. Because too much can cause the mind to blank and overload itself with serotonin and dopamine. All the while there is never enough time in the world to drag on that forever feeling
It's the act of getting lost in a person and discovering bits and pieces of how you affect said person.
In body, in mind, in response
I think I'm done because I don't know how else to frame my words. My head hurts and my chest pounds with equal force. I believe it's time for me to bid adieu and deal with this in the dreamscape
May 1, 2017
May 1, 2017 at 11:24 PM UTC