"engaging" poems
How radiant. A lovely sight
Glowing in the bold sunlight.
Love, peacefulness and mirth—
Giving joy upon the earth.
Sunflower. Unique you are.
Your beauty radiates afar—
Engaging the human race,
As always, with a happy face.
Lovely is the song you sing,
Its heartfelt melody to ring.
A song of beauty and of grace
Lends expression to the face.
How charming is the sunflow'r—
Adding zing to flow’r power.
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 8:01 PM UTC
Mixing tea, let's say lavender with something as simple as milk
Must sound silly and weird at first glance, as both come with their
own tastes and flavors which seem to not match at all.
Even the most unmatching couple can find bliss, harmony and
perfection in their very relationship, however.
Such as for the tea;
The milk manages to soften, embrace, advertise the taste of lavender
while leaving a pleasant aftertaste which is alike a ghost poorly
detectable, but present nonetheless after all.
With some sugar to sweeten this experience, it becomes divine,
something I would never have thought of, of such an odd couple.
The image of the lavender becomes overdrawn by the milk,
Engaging in a pure, creamy, brief white which reflects light just
in a majestic sense.
This is a taste to become lost in whilst reading a book in the best
of lightings, together with someone who causes your heart to race
and just turn ablaze
~ Umi
Feb 6, 2018
Feb 6, 2018 at 2:25 PM UTC
When did things change so much?
When did I get so encapsulated
Into the world of technology?
When did I stop listening
To myself and my own thoughts
And instead add another view
To some article or YouTube video
Just to reach some spoon-fed "opinion"?
When did we stop engaging
In life and with ourselves?
When did playing video games turn to
Watching other people play them online
Numbing our brains to the world
And "filling" our social needs digitally?
When did watching television turn into
Binge-watching an entire series in one sitting?
With this much constant stimulation
It's no wonder we're bored so easily
And that no one goes outside anymore
And that I don't feel alive anymore
Because one of the first things I do
When I get home from work or the gym
Is turn on the smart tv so it can warm up
Because the apps on it take time to load
And I already know that my free time
Will be spent in front of that screen
Lately I've been nervous about
Eventually moving in with new people
Primarily because I spend a lot of my time
Passively using the television
I was concerned with how we'd balance our usage
Instead of considering changing the way I spend my time
When did I start placing my use of technology
Above my own self-care?
When I spend hours watching YouTube
But still forget to take a shower sometimes
And I truly wonder if my recent urges
To leave the state to work on a farm for a month
Are more indicative of some deep desire
To unplug and reset my energy and priorities
Than my interest in agriculture or
Learning to live off of the land
When did I start to feel the need
To take such drastic measures
To change something so simple
Something I could choose to disengage with
At the simple touch of a button?
Feb 27, 2019
Feb 27, 2019 at 10:51 PM UTC
My mind is abuzz,
Like a hummingbird does.
It can't be still,
And it was my will
To make everything so,
Because how will I know
The outer limits of my essence
Without spiritual lessons?
Self-taught, fear not,
Happiness is sought
Through a curious burn.
The lessons I learn
From engaging my mind,
Is that I am not blind
To tuning into frequencies,
And avoiding delinquencies
With each new experience,
Learning to control delerience.
My inner being thirsts
For a gift labeled a curse.
I want to break these chains,
Be more than insane.
I want to be free
To be the real me.
Every great individual
Has ideas that are sensational.
So say what you will,
I will have these spiritual spills,
That shakes where I dwell,
And brings me out of my shell.
I have the right to engage
With my mind, uncaged.
Hummingbirds die
If they are caged inside.
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 9:26 PM UTC
Lilium,
Ah, you fascinating flower, an old gardener who still looks after his duty, mumbled to himself in awe of the stargazer and spider lilies,
They seem so majestic, yet innocent to the extent of a wounderous aura sent by their gentle yet stinging smell, spreading across the room
He said to himself that maybe, if they are as beautiful and heavenly as he thought,their taste should be beyond reasoning goodness, sweet
Just one bite later, the taste engaging in his old mouth has caused him to become numb, confused and with an irrigular heart rate, paralised.
Oh such an intent, to punish all those who dare to bring ruin to their glory by eating them, trying their taste with death ? Truly murderous.
Seeping through his body before slowly draining his poor life force, the fate of an unknowing man who had become the vessel of great unfolding fury of a flower which seemed to be so kind before hand.
A treasure is alike a flower, the gift of life resembling its beauty and hournour, growing proud until the sweet poison of death overtakes it
When I knew the meaning of eternity you were no longer there, Darling
~ Umi
Apr 11, 2018
Apr 11, 2018 at 12:20 AM UTC
There are people that have this ability to make people melt in their hands
They walk around their entire lives finding their prey and engaging them and make them melt
The victim is usually rewarded with a night of rampant *** and is then dumped into this puddle when the antagonist
of this story is done with them
Sometimes it takes days for the victim to turn back into a solid substance
Sometimes it takes weeks
Sometimes they never fully turn bqck to normal and their will be a part of them that will always remain liquid because of the antagonist
Many fall victim to this antagonist
Until the protagonist comes along and upsets the routine
The protagonist cannot be melted
And it is due to this very specific favt that the antagonist ia revealed as the true protagonist of our story
That's usually a goodish enough story line that melts the audience
But people like myself who do not melt sees the true sadness in the lack of melting
We do not melt because we have been melted ao much that we went for an operation and we came out transformed
We are now metal
And I'm sorry to disappoint that antagonist/antagonist who becomes a protagonist
But the best you would ever be able to do to me is to warm my heart
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 10:04 AM UTC
You're just a tiny bit minimalist in your own unique way
a white star I have to squint to see in daytime sky
not a Mercedes five point but a Nissan Micra car
you park neatly in a three point turn by my netsuke
and put a circular dent on my platonic furniture
Your two humble rooms devoid of any bold sculpture
except a fold-out table and a miniature bubble chair
and a futon for a bed which is troublesome to share
you draw the line at adornments but allow a wallflower
A bulb in a bowl is your ornamental garden feature
mealtimes a nibble on grated carrot celery cucumber
you run so long on empty you're an eco friendly teacher
stretching out the energy is a passion of my lover
engaging in lessons on sustaining a resourceful nature
Your shoes two pointe ballet slip ons easy to care
barely there g-string thin cotton underwear
nothing loud to upset your understated figure
slight as a pin drop your bottom's semi-derrière
sits so light on feet I'd swear you float on air
I rarely get to hear you come before you're in my hair
with a voice pitch high as a smitten kitten's purr
your upper reaches get a score sized single 'A'
nice when it fits into our schemes of feng shui
I carry your bundle home on the roadway rivers of light
yet you only burn one ray of candle power at night
born of scintillating atoms which flow along each vein
containing so much love without clutter in your frame
a brave star small as wings formed of minuscule wire
flutters in your eyes with minimal flare
but deep desire
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 12:54 PM UTC
Christmas can be a time
when families get together:
Young children scream, wine glasses gleam,
both ready for M&S dinner.
TV's in the corner
rerunning Home Alone,
Heart radio's in the kitchen,
Chris Rea's driving home,
again.
Toddlers find the wrapping
more engaging than the Duplo
Teen couples find the company
less of interest than their own.
The dog's confused and excited
with so many different sources
of scratches and pats, he can't relax,
his whining is remorseless.
Christmas can be a time
when families are missed,
the parcel made last post
winging off to little sis.
Zoom will come in handy
to laugh across the miles,
the screen will mask the tears
and focus on the smiles.
Gran will talk of Christmas past
when everyone was home
'Cept in Gulf War 1 when Uncle John
went away, ....
Christmas can be a time
when budgets get stretched tight,
cash pressures get to breaking point
and prompt senseless fights.
Some focus on opportunity
to spend some gilt-free money,
the only prayers are for extra hours
and a faster tesco trolley.
For others it's simply ' Yuletide'
an excessive celebration,
a winter feast, all you can eat,
give in to all temptation.
Most focus on the family,
even more on the gifts;
there's little time for Jesus
assigned amongst the myths.
Some do remember Jesus
from half forgotten carols,
they know there's something more
than donkeys and angel heralds.
For there He is in the middle,
noticed once in a while;
it's His birthday, but all He's getting
is a half-hearted song and a smile.
He's no longer a babe in a manger,
He's now a resurrected King,
waiting for those who would worship
to stand and welcome Him in.
Whatever your experience of Christmas
you can come just as you are,
His love is unconditional
He'll accept you warts and all.
So come on!
It’s a season to celebrate!
To dance, to sing and to shout!
Your Saviour invites you to join Him,
so when you sing this Christmas, make it count.
Nov 27, 2016
Nov 27, 2016 at 5:43 PM UTC
I watched the dark blue sky,
The falling star filling the night.
I felt your presence passing by,
Then a star shone a brighter light.
I look at the moon as I think of you,
I sit and wait for the miserable day to end.
As I’m sitting alone I ponder what we shall do,
Everyday I’m stuck at home I wish the rule would bend.
I feel warm as you lay beside me,
And thought it would be never ending.
This loving night that has to be,
My falling star wish is engaging.
You are the best that’s happened,
My wish is having a future with you.
You are the most I’ve wanted,
All my life will be dedicated with you.
Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 7:28 PM UTC
A movie star died a day or two ago
She was 97.
She would to say hello to my mother
At evening musicals full of teenaged boys
that I lusted after years ago
She would wave and smile with sparkling eyes
I’d look at mother
“Why?”
Amused, she would say softly
“I don’t know!”
We would giggle together
A rare event
Mother was no chorine
nor wardrobe mistress
She did not peak in the 50s
She did not dance with her husband
under the moon at the Bel Air Bay Club
Her daughter did not write a pop song that oddly charted
She did not struggle to remain in the public’s imagination
They had nothing in common but perhaps a lovely face and a skill at survival
Mom could make her husband move her closer to Johnny on the dance floor.
Whichever direction, Dad obliged.
They locked down that school today
Warned by a rifle in a photo
Of an unstable football pro
These women are dead now
so none’s the wiser
“When you’re a victim of bullying, an option is revenge." said the alumna.
“Just a precaution,” replied the school.
Mother would have been 97 this year as well.
Maybe they’ve met again,
two streaks of illuminated emptiness
Engaging with reservations
Over fitting in and going insane
Over the low self-regard in a champion
or
Being lost at sea.
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 5:26 PM UTC
escapism
the tendency to seek distraction and relief from unpleasant realities, especially by seeking entertainment or engaging in fantasy.
Hello
I'm just a un pretty face
in an ugly place
I can pretend
with the best of them
I love to paint pictures
that make no sense
except
inside my head.
on canvas?
they are just literally
uncoordinated twitchiness
a need to put colour
back into a world
of Black and White
I like to write stories
the antagonist being
just someone
who lost,
the heroine
fleeing
from a simple world
so complicated
*it's hard to cast
two beings that are so
ill fated*
and so the story goes
That poetry saved me
I can't tell it
for truth
It makes a difference
I suppose
But honestly?
I wake at the crack of dawn
I yell at the dog for barking
I take a minute for myself
Then wake the kids
it's starting
Getting ready for another day
is like petting a lion
begging food as a stray
I collect the mail
sort the bills
pretend that money
is an option, not a price
then sell myself to another
for a day
so nice
Feed, clean, wash
make sure no one is missed
How was your day dear?
Well, it's like this
as they wander away
to their own adventures
and I'm left
to my own devices
eventually
To paint a picture
Write a book
Or expel my life's pleasures
into poetry
and all I really hear is
What do you mean, is that about me?
Umm no, it's about me...
And tomorrow
I'll wake up
to do it all again
Hello
I'm Helen
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 4:32 AM UTC
You Sir, Are An Electrician!
**technocrat
— noun
a proponent, adherent, or supporter of technocracy.**
This city boy was expert at
Turning the lights on,
Unlocking the front door,
Putting new batteries in flashlights,
And calling the handyman to
"Please come upstairs"
When the degree of diving difficulty was a
Positive number.
Also,
Freezing the semi-permanently the DVR,
Triggering alarms,
Killing car batteries,
Making laptops question
Human sanity,
Tearing up when reading,
"Some Assembly Required!"
Raised in a city of experts,
He was unskilled in things electric,
Becoming apoplectic,
When a device had an
On/off switch that ignored him.
Somewhat famous he was,
For engaging the inanimate,
In a verbal dialectic,
Which included words highly phonetic,
But unsuitable for children's ears.
She was raised in rural pastures,
Corn fields used for hide n' go seek,
Riding goats after school
Just for fun,
Familiar with innards of
Deus ex machina, a/k/a
Minor engine repairs, and
Doing what he called,
Making reparations.
IOS7, heaven.
Cabling laptop to external devices,
Icing on the cake,
Dis and reassembling a German coffee maker,
Did not require calling an 800 number.
She never read an instruction sheet
Without pleasurable laughing at
Japanese English.
He was unashamed of his skilled
Unskilled characteristics,
For such is the way of the world
In the human kingdom,
Some of us two handed,
some of us, bi-standers.
But upon occasion,
He would bemoan his fate,
Decry his inability to survive
On a post-apocalyptic Earth,
Like the people on tv and movies.
Periodically he would grow morose,
Listless, at his inability to adapt to a
Point Oh world.
Uncomprehending
Icons and symbols whose meaning
Were wholly unintuitive,
He secretly ashamed of his need for
technological ******
She would sense his frustration,
Wipe away his inner condensation,
Climbing into his lap,
Whispering the following:
**You sir, are an electrician
of words, a verbal technocrat,**
Plumber of the depths where
Few fear to tread, explorer of the head,
Restorer of human paintings unmatched,
Without your ilk,
this world would be unbearable,
Your heart's warming silk
Comforts bodies and souls,
Speaking from experience personal.
Then, she flicked his
On/Off switch,
On.
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 2:43 AM UTC
Sleep, dearest creature of the night, you who adores the shining moon, I said to myself as the music began to echo through the room
A nyctophile blood ******* devil, gifted black demonic wings alike a bat when it flies, strengh beyond reason and a tongue full of sick lies,
Yet a ray of sun may be lethal to you, burning you away as if you were paper caught in a firestorm, an inferno of heat, vaporized at last,
Life force relies in blood, impurities of constant change I need since I have already passed away theoretically I am most likely already dead
A music box plays for me alone, transient melodies from the recurring memories of a brighter, vivid past, to which I am are unable to return to,
Ahh, phantoms, a nuisance of the mortal life I have escaped alike the shooting stars over a clear, living,traveling, dark blue night sky
Have I toiled well, hard or long to achieve heaven, yet have become stuck as the devils tool in a illusionary world with no end ?
Flowing water seals me away, I cannot cross when it rains, and need a polite, kind invitement to intrude and cause wicked bloodshed
Sleep, so I may can be innocent until the sun has sunken down to rest,
Slumber, the world of dreams is free from weaknesses to purification,
With great magic, comes a devils recitation, engaging in a distant dream far beyond the grasp of my crimson, blood drenched hands,
Unable to advance, shadows of those who have forgotten the fear of darkness spread and creep around, hidden in nights embrace
Empty consciousness I am attracted like a fluttering butterfly to the gentle reflected light by the full moon in its fullest sensation,
Raise this song of love and paint it in a moonlit night for me,
Dance with me, until we aren't part of this world any longer, dear,
Sounds melt into silence, structure forms within chains of destiny,
Even if tomorrow were never to come, I couldn't care less,
For now, just let me rest my eyes
~ Umi
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 6:06 PM UTC
Speechless thoughts on site
Objective strictly unknown
Defining subjects involved
Choose double meanings
Mood swings to decipher
Flourishes seek entry
Results don't matter
Engaging makes us think
Nov 17, 2009
Nov 17, 2009 at 7:53 AM UTC
A Hebrew Prayer from the Sabbath Morning Service
THESE ARE THINGS that are limitless,
of which a person enjoys the fruit of the world,
while the principal remains in the world to come.
They are:
honoring one’s father and mother,
engaging in deeds of compassion,
arriving early for study, morning and evening,
dealing graciously with guests,
visiting the sick,
providing for the wedding couple,
accompanying the dead for burial,
being devoted in prayer,
and making peace among people.
But the study of Torah^ encompasses them all.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I briefly considered editing, adding to, rephrasing this translation.
But reconsidered almost immediately, and instead wrote this down.
Among the things that are limitless perfect is this prayer.
Jun 10, 2017
Jun 10, 2017 at 8:34 PM UTC
Sleepless eyes wide awake
During a sleepless night
Tossing and turning
The bed is so uninviting
Not allowing my soul to rest
Listening to the dark lull
Turmoil in the mind
In retrospective mode
So many incidents come alive
Darkness giving me clarity
Of my experiences
Trying to decipher the past
Imaginary solutions
For episodes from my past
Time travel, visiting in reminiscence
Not sure whether I am happy or sad
More of a neutral state of mind
Sleepless night engaging me
In a futile attempt to resolve
Only memories can visit the past
Time, has long ago taken me miles ahead
My sleepless night indulging
In hallucinating my mind
Ramblings of a sleepless soul
From the experiences of sleepless night
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 9:48 AM UTC
Mind is a super computer they say.
It can think of millions of stuff in a matter of day.
From the bombings in Iraq,
to the hurt in my best friends heart.
From the moment its up,
It never stops,
To stop. Blink or breathe.
It keeps running at night.
The subconscious consumes power.
Often leaving the mind tired at the break of dawn.
When it meets people,
it reads the signs at many levels.
Subject of talk,
Body language.
Positivity of the vibes,
The way the person jives.
A handshake.
A wink.
A hug.
A swiftly made jug*
It notices everything.
In all this processing.
It accumulates a lot of clutter!
And the mind with all the confusing thoughts,
becomes like hot butter!
Sparks fly like an electronic of fire!
And it needs something to distract it.
What works best is a bit of exercise.
A bit of chattering,
Or writing it all out.
Some find solace in Games or Movies.
Why do they work?
Because they engage all senses,
And make the mind groovy.
Smoking and doping do great too.
But reducing the processors of our mind to grade two!
Hallucinating and dreaming 80% of it.
The mind thinks its being more productive that most of it.
But illusions destroy us further.
Making the mind believe it’s just another wonder.
Wonder though it is.
Using only 10% of it we create,
Science, History, Mystery,
But this wonder has a lot on bate.
If it goes in the wrong direction.
Even thinking too much is an addiction!
Original thoughts are like endorphins to the mind.
Making it jump and do cartwheels inside.
Stimulating discussions are named that way,
Because engaging in one makes us jumpy all day.
It satisfies the mind that,
I have done something constrictive besides,
Whiling my days in sorrow,
and waiting for the morrow.
Mind is like a baby that need attention,
if not given that it runs in all directions.
Mind is a super computer that needs,
the dedication of a programmer.
Be that programmer and feed your mind the right numbers,
And see it become the eighth wonder!
*Jug- short for juggle.
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 2:51 PM UTC
Sleeping someone somewhere
Dreams of drinking daises
Laying lucid loving lavender
Adapting admiration of the ages
Koala kites, kaleidoscope cries
Bubbles blowing bare beauty
Riding radiance rapidly realizing
Forsaken focus freeing form
Soaring sensation seeps synchronicity
Dripping differences deranged
Rearranged ripples randomly react
Enacting endorphins equally engaging
Induced ignition infinitely intact
Pulsating precision purpose full pact
Oct 19, 2012
Oct 19, 2012 at 4:52 AM UTC
Beat-Up Old Car
Vastly under-appreciated possession
In dull blue, a MK1, no less, with original rust
Inside lingering scents of Exchange and Mart
top-notes of WD-40 and miscellaneous mix tapes
A car like this gets into your life
in lumpy knuckle-barking unsubtle ways,
stays there in subtle ones
That long drive back to Yorkshire
in the quintessential exemplar
Clutch cable snaps.
****** and Crap.
Hardly helpful but can be accommodated
with enough thought
rough though it is
on starter motor
and nerves whenever
anticipatory powers inadequate
and we are forced
to a complete red-light stop
Brakes dodgier, exhaust noisier
than ideal or legal
Gender-ambiguous
elderly tyres flirt outrageously with slick tarmac
Showing their canvas underwear
and male-pattern baldness
Keeping this unstable, unsafe, unreliable
ultimately essential lump of metal
moving and on the road
is a fine art
Engaging, fluid and intense art;
The Clash and The Specials
Costello and The Cure in support
A distraction then
getting hauled over by plod
somewhere near Bury St. Edmunds
Thatcher's boys.
Tax? MoT? Insurance? ID?
No real interest shown
Any passengers in the back?
Clearly no. Pickets?
Pickets? What?
Please open the boot sir... Oh.
On your way lad. Drive carefully
I was, officer, I was
More than you will ever know
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 9:52 AM UTC
My New Year’s Eve
was spent
collecting fragmented recollections
to confirm
that my dignity
had truly died.
Soberly,
I perused
the bars and clubs,
and walked aimlessly
up and down crowded streets,
feeling like my life
had somehow
been shifted
into slow motion,
while the rest of the world,
engaging in joyous celebration
and ffestivities,
was knocked out of rhythm
from my existence.
How in the world
could the clock strike midnight?
How could people embrace, and kiss
at the dropping of the ball?
How could they laugh and smiile,
and wish each other a “Happy New Year!”?
More importantly,
how could those god **** traffic lights
have the audacity
to continue changing
from red to ggreen to yellow,
then back to red again.
My dignity had just died.
My dignity had just died.
My dignity was dead.
My dignity was gone.
In the days and weeks
that followed the death of my dignity,
I noticed
that life faded
from colloquial to iconic,
like something mystical,
or an intangible object
of deep longing.
And recurrent images
of those *******
obnoxious traffic lights
insensitively
switching colors
replay in my mind
to remind me
over and over
in the greens (go),
the reds (stop),
and the yellows (be careful),
that my dignity
had died.
Memories
of the ddays
before my dignity had died
run through my mind
like old home movies
with centuries
of black and white film
stuck on repeat,
and slowly fraying,
around the edges,
because of the harsh demands of time.
It is life’s
harsh and cruel irony
that these images,
once my greatest joy,
have now become
inflicters
of the greatest pain
that I
have ever felt.
Like a sound wave
of pain,
so powerful,
that it has silenced
any other pain
that my heart
has ever heard.
So now I know,
it is true
life is a bitch.
The fading
of my dignity
has made me
overly aware
of the earth
turning on its axis.
As spring approached,
for the very first time,
I noticed
the way the flowers
seem reluctant
to bloom,
as if uncertain
of their
welcome invitation.
Such a cruel reality,
that the flowers
would choose
to bloom,
and nature
would choose
to carry on,
slipping
further and further
away from the day
that my dignity died.
And still,
to this day,
those ****
traffic lights
keep switching colors
Jan 10, 2018
Jan 10, 2018 at 8:32 AM UTC
Partly darkened and part in light
A time when the stars and sun shared the sky
Bear witness to two behemoths wielding might
Impending clash foreseen to go awry
Two trains of thoughts charging from opposite ends
Each bearing their own solid ideals
Their flags that flew with conflicting brands
Convictions they carry on beaten, weary wheels
Almost an eternity, the time is soon
Seconds lasted before they finally would meet
Feeling of dread like the cloud covered moon
With war cries of whistles, they would greet
No possible way that they could miss
War waged in steeled wills and forged metals
Anticipate the moment, their couplings would kiss
Unleashing a barrage of predestined reprisals
Sheer destruction as they ate into each other
All in tow haphazardly derailed
A clash made of brute strength and power
A result of when decisiveness had failed
All was motionless save for the light of day
The two lay dead; spent currencies in coal
Fire and smoke had emerged from the fray
Signifying that the two have met their goal
Their cargo now freed, engaging in petty skirmish
Lunging and wrestling as they fought for dominance
Determination to overwhelm; never to languish
Jousting fists fueled by pent-up vengeance
Almost at end this long drawn battle
Much like a storm to be patiently ridden out
When the last of the debris should settle
Then would be lifted the dusty veil of doubt
The sun has now risen revealing the aftermath
Shedding light on the devastation incurred
Dark thoughts possess the most potent of wraths
But nothing could beat the muscle of the written word
Looking back I've realised the harm I've caused
Found great solace in the dark words I've governed
Life still hurls; it can never be paused
Just dust yourself off for you're better off enlightened
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 5:14 AM UTC
*Always lingering, longingly
Like leaves frolicking in trees
Your gaze entraps me
Tempting me
Mesmerizing me
Engaging me in a lovers dance
Seducing my senses
Only you, only you*
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 4:30 AM UTC
*Into the night, hundreds of galaxies sparkle,
Secretly engaging, like a child's game of hide-n-seek,
Surrounded by soft puffs of snow,
In the warmth of the summer breeze.
And unfurl,
Into the tropical seas,
As waves mildly splash,
Upon a bed of sand, creating a feeling of peace.
When light whispers,
Vanish upon native shores,
And relive in my heart,
Forever and ever more....*
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 2:24 PM UTC
That shooting star,
Loved the earth so much that it crashed right into it, burning away in passion, lethal, poisonous passion, to be with what it really wanted,
It cut through the darkness with our hopes, with our deepest wishes,
Before it vanished, like a long lost dream, or a overshadowed memory
As time ticks on, reality and illusion melt together, sharing a heart,
That too is a sign of death, as each lost its meaning by just doing this,
In order to heal my aching chest, I too must be to death in sweet love,
So I will not lose to anyone, daling, after all, once you give another a home within your heart, a part, yet small dies and fades into shadows
I know I am not alone, because I am reaching out for your love, dear
A last remote of lonesome fear, engaging the thought of losing what you hold so dear, is what makes it morbid, burning even hotter now,
But a fire burns out faster, the higher it reaches, so be very cautious,
Envy is for love the metamorphosis to turn into pure fury or hate,
A ****** devotion to be the only one your darling ever will desire,
As you fall, to death in love
~ Umi
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 6:00 PM UTC
Excuse me for my hurt,
I know you mean well,
And you want to inspire,
And uplift me,
But language is a fickle art.
One that can make the difference,
Composing tone and the words themselves.
And there is no greater insecurity
Than the one called Me.
Since the very beginning,
I have been openly listening,
Engaging in thoughtful discussion -
The subject of You, the percussion.
I immediately spotted possible repercussions.
I wanted, and I still do,
To know your essence,
But healthy exchanges
Involve equality,
And I don't want to be left hanging,
Feeling like I'm lesser.
I crave knowing the rest of your essence,
But have you no interest
In knowing the same?
Are our minds connected
Of the same fibers
Or are we what we weave,
Being different in how we perceive,
A lifetime of individual strings?
The only Person I should keep in my life,
Making me feel inferior and uninteresting,
Is Me -
And I shall escape that fate,
With unconditional love, and positivity.
I am deeply interested,
In knowing MySelf, loving MySelf,
And to You, who has shown limited interest
In simply knowing me,
You, I choose as a direction of my Purity,
You, unaltered and true,
You, and Me, Alone -
It all, once again,
Always begins with You.
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 4:42 AM UTC