"epitomize" poems
Prolog:
Foreplay opens with an aphrodisiac dubbed the mind
caressing private chambers with passion, over time
words stimulating nerve-endings for the ideal tease
like the skin dripping of honey from the nectar of bees
exploiting the fragrances of scented oils and balms
or maybe vib’ing lyrics inducing a seductive calm
compelling forces bombard the intellectual’s sanity
as the proximity of the blackhole distorts humanity
Love’s Play:
Costars entwine heated bodies for love’s embrace
as moments become endless as vectors of subspace
sporadic movements take the form of blissful spasms
while the players combine to mold a single plasm
ringing chimes fulfill the awareness with sensations
too diverse to classify for logical deliberations
yet finally, the mountaintop of cliffs can be reached
where there is no retreat and no return from its breach
Epilog:
Aftermath closes basking from the physical exertion
as two kindred spirits epitomize timeless insertion
gazing deeply into the abyss of the partner’s soul
only to find comfort and compassion ruling the role
can this be the earthly heaven that one truly beholds
written in the historic words as the heavens foretold
feelings ignite once again burning deeply within
opening yet another intriguing act, one must attend.
Feb 9, 2017
Feb 9, 2017 at 10:06 AM UTC
funhouse of self-reflection,
i indulge in your distraction,
make the best of every one of my heart's contractions,
to scintillate, to shine, to epitomize a refraction
that is all mine.
a start's best contender
to finish, always inclined.
for the heart's say is that gold is always underlined.
glitter of shimmer, of glistening hues.
what creator could produce formations as iridescent as you?
but coruscation of shadows, perpetually anew:
why do you always crack my mirror and skew?
mirror, mirror.
mirror of my mind:
tell me where it is that all my secrets hide?
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 11:17 AM UTC
My water’s luminosity…
whisky and sage.
We breed to feed other fishies,
but I’m on stage.
Performing for some human’s selfish garrison.
This disregard is quite humane in comparison.
The cat, your companion,
He claws at me constantly.
I epitomize a pet.
I am merely your captive;
Only aesthetically attractive.
I long to be the social hippie of the sea,
but this isolation is drowning me.
One day you’ll find me ambivalently
sinking at the top of my bowl,
and you will flush me down yours like the rest of your useless ****
Nov 21, 2012
Nov 21, 2012 at 12:37 AM UTC
Oh God, the Most Merciful and Compassionate:
Please grant us the grace and opportunity to be your instrument in the mercy and compassion that you epitomize. May You grant us peace in our lifetime and frustrate those who seek to cause discord and sow hatred in your name.
Please enlighten our collective conciousness. May we be continually reminded that we are all on this Pale Blue Dot together. Please help us to grow out of this petty and useless tribalism and nationalism that are invoked far too often to justify violence.
May You grant us all a desire to strive for peace and have mercy on us for our many sins against each other.
Amen
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 10:17 AM UTC
What is the point in
Poignancy?
*Fragment,
you tell me.
Another one in paragraph three.*
What do words matter?
I have spelled love with Lilacs instead of an “L”
I have drawn the curve of my “O” with the chill of a
Sweeping breeze.
A “V” can only appear as the violet of a
sparkling sky, or I will be unable to read it,
and every “E” will amount to nothing more than
emptiness if the voice it has been given
does not epitomize song.
*Comma-splice,
Replace it with a semicolon.*
I am trying live freely.
I want to breathe in color,
to inhale an orange Savannah sky
And exhale green which
shows through the translucent dew
of grass.
*Unnecessary use of description.
Limit it, Lidiah. Limit it.*
My fingers itch with the ferocity of
A vengeful army.
They are waiting to trample pages with
The lead of my pencil, the bayonet
of a Revolutionary-War-era rifle.
The word limit sounds like tragedy.
A single word that can somehow act as
a precursor,
To the death of passion.
Your words have put you in a box.
People always say
“Actions speak louder than words.”
In a way that is true.
But I also know it to be
a tremendous piece of fiction.
*Lidiah,
Please watch your run-ons.*
Why can our words and our actions
not be the same thing?
Isn’t the act of speaking,
the act of raising your voice,
the act of being heard,
isn’t that an action?
*Lidiah,
how many times do I have to remind you?
Clarification throughout.*
Why have we decided that our words
Mean nothing more than
stepping stones on the road to action?
When did we decide that our voices
which rise like clarion calls,
forever instilling our promises,
are to be left on silent?
Precious jewels set into rings.
Poison in a water tank.
*Lidiah,
what you say is irrelevant
if your MLA bibliography isn’t in
alphabetical order.*
Our words are our actions.
They mean the same.
Words are the distinctions of our beliefs
Illustrations of our personas
They are not mosquitos to be slapped away
and forgotten.
*Lidiah,
paragraph five is too long.
Stop rambling.
Be concise.*
Please tell me,
what is the point of being concise?
*Lidiah,
stop rambling.*
Why do we let justification
equate to useless rambling?
*Lidiah,
you have to detach yourself from the narrative.*
Feelings mean more
than a couple of sentences.
More than a good or a bad.
A mad or a sad.
Comma-splice
What about ferocity?
Never end with a preposition.
What about passion?
Replace this with a conjunctive adverb.
What about the discernable strife
that follows even indifference?
What about that?
*Lidiah,
what is the point of
Poignancy?*
What are we without it?
What does the human soul matter
if we have forsaken the parts of ourselves that
remind us of what a soul is for?
*Lidiah,
you will never be heard
if you do not learn to follow the rules*.
Mar 4, 2018
Mar 4, 2018 at 1:04 AM UTC
No one knows me better than my demons.
I’ve been caring for them, nurturing them
like a parent afraid to see them leave.
My demons have remained faithful to me.
There is no part of me more forgiving.
I’ve fought with them, and tried to destroy them.
But my demons never abandoned me.
They’ve stayed with me, always speaking to me
kindly, with their gentle, sensitive voice.
My demons are my intimate partner.
At my worst and earliest suffering,
they arrived, eager to help me adapt.
My demons epitomize devotion.
They don’t have feelings for anyone else.
They only care about protecting me.
Sometimes, I try to confront my demons.
And then they just listen, like a friend should,
and offer to let me live without them.
But my demons know better than I do.
Feeding on self-loathing, the more they eat,
the more self-loathing I am to become.
My demons have figured survival out.
If I just choose self-loathing over love,
they will stay a part of me forever.
Mar 14, 2019
Mar 14, 2019 at 10:25 PM UTC
epitomize
and optimize
imitate
and recalibrate
streamline
and recombine
the evolutionary "line"
fireflies
and theorize
circulate
and gyrate
guideline
and divine
the galaxy and the stars
moonrise
and clockwise
death rate
and procreate
sunshine
and lifeline
laws of nature are defined
maximize
and re-size
penetrate
and migrate
bloodline
and decline
the story of our world
allies
and despise
prostate
and dictate
enshrine
and benign
generations throughout time
endings
and beginnings
losing
and winnings
and everything
in between
is what we find
Mar 4, 2010
Mar 4, 2010 at 4:44 PM UTC
For God’s sake hold your tongue, and let me love,
Or chide my palsy, or my gout,
My five grey hairs, or ruin’d fortune flout,
With wealth your state, your mind with arts improve,
Take you a course, get you a place,
Observe his Honour, or his Grace,
Or the King’s real, or his stamped face
Contemplate, what you will, approve,
So you will let me love.
Alas, alas, who’s injur’d by my love?
What merchant’s ships have my sighs drown’d?
Who says my tears have overflow’d his ground?
When did my colds a forward spring remove?
When did the heats which my veins fill
Add one more to the plaguy bill?
Soldiers find wars, and lawyers find out still
Litigious men, which quarrels move,
Though she and I do love.
Call us what you will, we are made such by love;
Call her one, me another fly,
We’are tapers too, and at our own cost die,
And we in us find the’eagle and the dove.
The phoenix riddle hath more wit
By us; we two being one, are it.
So, to one neutral thing both sexes fit,
We die and rise the same, and prove
Mysterious by this love.
We can die by it, if not live by love,
And if unfit for tombs and hearse
Our legend be, it will be fit for verse;
And if no piece of chronicle we prove,
We’ll build in sonnets pretty rooms;
As well a well-wrought urn becomes
The greatest ashes, as half-acre tombs,
And by these hymns all shall approve
Us canoniz’d for love;
And thus invoke us: “You, whom reverend love
Made one another’s hermitage;
You, to whom love was peace, that now is rage;
Who did the whole world’s soul contract, and drove
Into the glasses of your eyes
(So made such mirrors, and such spies,
That they did all to you epitomize)
Countries, towns, courts: beg from above
A pattern of your love!”
1.6k
just realized i epitomize a surfer
you know the spiritual, counter culture, wise, mellow, happy, down to earth, fashionable, rad, stoked variety
stoke monasteries
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 8:58 PM UTC
I try to conjure up words that can explain what you did to me.
But, the truth is nothing can epitomize the pain you brought upon me.
Abandonment. Above all, you were abandonment.
You left me lying in the middle of the road.
You left me for dead.
Our love was just a hit-and-run for you.
An entire year spent running me over with your high horse,
and you still have yet to see the bruises on my ribs.
I am broken.
I am road ****
You will never love me as much as you love yourself.
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 9:08 PM UTC
What are you getting at?
Poetically dispassionate ink
pouring out of your mouths.
Standing half-naked here
with your nasty bits hanging out and dangling.
Fifth grade ******* contest,
tape measure microphone.
'His darkness is bigger than his!'
'Well yeah but his is darker.'
It's okay
maybe you're a grow-er and not a show-er.
Half-poised, microphone voice-box
tell me now, what parchment does
your pen ***** onto?
Caligraphy college degrees.
Upper-middle class tragicomedy.
Skin unscarred,
pretending to know
just how deep a razor blade can go.
Red ink looks close enough to blood I guess.
This vast sea of poetic words,
snotgreen and scrotumtightening.
With your absolute knowledge
of what Joyce was getting at
as he layed there dying and blind
imploring to the world:
"Does nobody understand?"
What awful things has the world done to you
to beget these howls of pain?
What about you
does this dimlylit place,
with it's black coffee and chicken sandwiches,
epitomize?
When was the last time your world was worth destroying?
How did you sleep last night?
Have you ever heard a bone snap in half?
What is your first thought when holding a sharp object?
What will these words prove
when you find that no one's listening?
Aug 22, 2012
Aug 22, 2012 at 8:36 PM UTC
Some call me a genius.
Some call me insane.
My friends say I'm a tragedy.
My parents say I'm just a little eccentric.
Tell me what you think.
I am nothing but a puppet.
Being handled and tossed around.
After awhile I'm just set aside.
I'm diverting at first, almost enjoyable, but, in the end, a bitter pill to all.
I apperceive no need to breath.
I have to necessitate my lungs to swell with air, then to shrivel, and epitomize the essence of life.
That's where my eloquence comes from, or it's the insanity. I'm not sure.
In my frigid, obscured, irrecoverable mind, insanity is eloquence, eloquence is tragedy, and tragedy is beauty.
I exist for the darkest of romances, the most distorted of lives.
It brings me what's closest to a sense of your "well-being".
I hate, therefore, I love.
So if I love hate, then, I love circles.
That's what my love is, a circle.
The grasps of reality, though persistent, quickly overwrought and became transient to me not very recently, but not too long ago.
I will abruptly tear down and rip to shreds any mark of social normality in or around me.
Now, will you decide whether I live or die?
Or shall I for you?
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 8:24 PM UTC
We drove by moonlight last night.
The dirt road was our bright future.
I stared into my eyes through yours
And felt your lips like wind upon my neck.
We stumbled upon a natural pool bound by trees.
Ripples of concord churned water the color of innocence.
We looked upon one another, shameless as devotion itself
And as we swam, our imperfections dissolved and drowned
The crisp cool air beautifully contrasted
The heated humming of our hearts
The great space between us fell apart
And we knew more of love than Aphrodite in all her days
I held you, and you grabbed my hand
The stillness moved us and in that moment,
As we succumbed to sleep, our silence spoke over all words,
which could never truly epitomize our love.
And when we woke up we were two thousand miles apart,
As I drove down the dirt road I saw last night
The sun burned my neck. The pool where we swam
was as long gone as my opportunity to tell you how I feel.
Jul 20, 2011
Jul 20, 2011 at 7:31 AM UTC
You epitomize rhyming poetry,
because these rhymes do not bind you,
or rather you have not let yourself be bound by these rhymes,
as so many others have.
Your rhythm and rhyming do not hold back your poetry:
on the contrary, these rhymes allow your poetry to be stronger.
You may not know it, but this is a spectacular quality. Write,
and never be afraid of writing.
I read all of your poetry from the beginning because from the very first poem I deemed that it was worth my time.
We are a family, by heart, and not by blood; there is no foe.
and
I am never blind to not see the world's perfect wonders.
You describe yourself as an optimist, and rightfully so. This line is beautiful. The whole poem is awesomely crafted, and once again, the rhymes don't obstruct the poem's meaning and significance, and only enhance it.
*The canvas of black paint and glitters of gold.
A story that was left untold.
To golden new, from rustic old.
Too clear, yet too bold.*
Your use of rhythm in this poem is very impressive. It's unconventional, and it works. The imagery of the black paint is beautiful. I love how the rhythm drops at the end; it's literally bold.
*I have watched the stars, for they are like your eyes.
I saw it. I made a wish to an entity from afar.
Never was I wrong to see things that are lies.
A light was beaming. It was a broken star.*
The line Never was I wrong to see things that are lies really stayed with me. It's a powerful sentence and sticks right into the poem's theme. The way I interpret it is as "It's okay to delude yourself, as long as you're happy," which links back to the popular phrase "oblivion is bliss." Also, A light was beaming. It was a broken star is entwined with the previous line in the idea that we really can chose to see only what we wish to see. Who is this broken star? I'm really curious.
Anyway, thank-you for publishing your work. It's poets like you that makes HelloPoetry a real blast. Keep submitting your work!
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 12:43 PM UTC
I propose every pre-existing value to myself, and I embody it.
I surge every thought towards it, I commit every diasporic cell to it.
I cradle, and I brood and dwell on it for years, until I can find no other reality to contest it.
I become narrow and hollow. I hiss at every attempt to eclipse my flaring sun of reality.
I become The Bitter Man. I will love nothing more than to project my bitterness unto others until I am alone; Manifest Destiny.
Until I fully epitomize the number 1, I will not relent.
I will churn myself into powder over thousands of miles of burnt asphalt and sips of coffee until I sit beneath chrysalis skies, in gravel ditches not inspired to even look up.
Sit up, sight & repeat.
I will continue on this wheel of values until every value is impotent
And total freedom will ensue.
Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 5:02 PM UTC
she is the sun
and i am the moon
she is a new beginning, the first stretch you relish as the world awakes, a steaming mug filled to the brim with your favorite coffee
always sweet, never bitter
i am the moon
i epitomize the loneliest hours, the inevitable end, shivers along your arm from a window slightly ajar
misery and company
you love me
but maybe
she is the sun
the brightest smile hiding her darkest secrets
and i am the moon
the comfort you seek within reassuring blankets and pillows
i am the moon
you are the stars in my sky
maybe you need me as much as i
need you
Sep 13, 2017
Sep 13, 2017 at 2:14 PM UTC
Find the thing you love
and hurt it 'cause we're selfish;
and love is burning
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 3:54 PM UTC
There was a beginning.
I was stringing.
There were threads,
but there was something simply dead.
I can't say I had any idea
of its permanent location.
What are we to say of any deceased?
Is there something to observe
about those whom have failed at living?
But it's the ultimate goal.
If a pearl exists within the oyster,
it breathes nonexistent
persistently.
The difference between fear and sadness
is some blurry line.
If happiness is there,
why do I not cognisize
what it takes to epitomize?
The oyster sits.
I will wait.
Life will hate
at altruistic bait.
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 3:47 AM UTC
epitomize thine-self?
I'm going ******* insane
or am the only one who isnt?
a mad man once asked his only pupil
Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 11:42 PM UTC
A rose for The Rose
For being so prominent in poetry and prose
For no other flower has adorned with so much zest
Lover’s tresses or a Martyr’s wreath
For a single flower to epitomize love and hate
Cherished From classic to modern, blessed by choice and fate
For all the romance and all the tragedies it has seen
In the tears of pathos and in the pearls of glee
For the petals and thorns and the richness of their harmony
To be in ease with its beauty calling for awe and envy
For the delicate vulnerability of petals and strong character of thorn
To be everywhere and yet so exclusive, has there ever been a human such born?
Jun 27, 2011
Jun 27, 2011 at 7:30 AM UTC
My Green Eyes on a high rise
Sends me sailing through a breeze;
A zephyr of perfection
Brings me softly to my knees.
Before you I am naked,
Shrouded only by your kiss;
You guard precious possessions
As your lips encounter hip.
Slowly sinking, wond'ring, thinking
How love so quick occurred,
We weld ourselves together
Both with touch and endless word.
Oh, Green Eyes, it's your smile,
You guide me to my home--
A place so fresh and garden green
Beneath your skin and bone.
Your fingers on my fingers
Send me gasping to the floor,
Your whisper in my ear
Makes me shiver, plead for more.
Sprawled and tangled, move as one,
A deep seductive mess,
A most primal instinct
Each time we do undress.
Dear Green Eyes, you epitomize
The strength of human heart;
Through days of doubt and worry
You blindly brave the dark.
An though you walk straight on your own,
Although you know your way,
I'll be the 'X' that marks the spot
If ever you should stray.
So Green Eyes, please try,
Remember this verse:
From the depths of my soul
Your green eyes I do thirst.
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 1:10 PM UTC
I would rather
Use short, shallow, and everyday words
Which epitomize my feeling
Than
Use big, deep, and unusual words
In which my feelings get lost
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 7:21 AM UTC
I was standing next to him,
staring deep into his eyes,
it almost made me blind,
to change my mind,
of how my heart,
truly felt about him,
it almost made me want to realize,
epitomize that maybe he was the "one",
not the same as the other guy,
whose words were antagonist,
in disguised,
an oxymoron of half truths and half lies,
it actually hurts to write this poem
put it words I wish were my own,
but in honest truth its better to hide them at home,
because if I had to describe them to you,
you wouldn't understand the feeling inside.
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 11:50 AM UTC
Tears rain onto cheeks as you watch
In my head wheels spin around
Speech crackling like phone line static
Words blurs barely making sound
How can it be I already epitomize alone?
You reassure me there's plenty of time
Doubts creep like morning fog
Mentally assessing mountain you must climb
Staring at fragile fingers
Present compared to past
Sun set in an instant
Night falling fast
Surroundings mostly hazy
Some parts crystal clear
Ironically what I witness best
Are the things I long to disappear
I'm left with knot in my stomach
Getting tighter with each turn
Wanting peace known as a child
Naivete time won't return
I bought one-way ticket to worry
Shouldn't have boarded train at all
Choke my sorrows and lungs with smoke
Drown yours in alcohol
Life nicer through a glass
Sure it ensures your fear departs
Pulse started pounding louder in my ear
Love wistfully contained within hearts
I cannot explain terror
Bleeding out
Hole will not close
Stubborn ways too old to change
Your incongruence shows
Forcing hope straight down throat
Waiting for falsity to be revealed
Flowers you planted instead of weeds
To be crushed on cruel battlefield
Your comfort tonelessly whispers to me
Thought that would soothe my stress
Did not argue with your perspective
For your sake try obsessing less
But under surface shrieking
Phrases pondered remaining hid
Grasping for method to save you
Before you are gone and I wished that I did
Aug 17, 2024
Aug 17, 2024 at 2:24 AM UTC