"esteems" poems
Oh Jackie
Do you think it’s easy
To fall in love with just a kiss
Now every day I miss that natural
Curl of your lips
I can’t explain your beauty
Maybe it’s just a kink
Something I saw in a dream
Of beauty Aphrodite esteems
And maybe some ancient time
You’re shape was aspired
You were molded like clay
And heaven laid the lines on your face
I so admire
Every glowing smile
And forever linked
In a web of my little kinks
I fall hard for beauty
Carved like a goddess from maybe another life
When I’m drunk I wanna call you up
And say, **** it let’s go elope
Be my wife
And I’d never say these things to your face
For all you know I’m just another disgrace
A missed connection, you could never give a ****
For every text and every kiss that I miss
And you can find something else?
I wish I knew what it was
Cause when I met you
I just wanted to run away in the sun
And find you a place that I can truly say
The beauty only compares
To the curl of your lips
And the rose of your cheeks
And the soft, caress of your kiss
Forever imprisoned
To find something comparable
This feeling has taken me over, it’s unbearable
I can only lay, here, here in the sand
And hope to god a love like hers
Will find me somewhere?
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 4:01 PM UTC
Across the hills, across the plains,
Across the sands and seas,
He searched for poems and refrains,
For wonders never cease...
While there's a child within God's heart
And His remembrance, too,
The Poemhunter scans for art,
Esteems each point of view...
Across the noblest hopes and dreams,
Ideals and fancy thoughts,
The spectrum of Man's mad extremes
Proves that it takes all sorts...
While there's a vision, judge or law,
Or simply self-control,
The Poemhunter must explore
Their sanctity, their soul...
He reads the rhythms, rhymes and rules
That writers would relay,
He heeds the wisemen, sighs at fools...
Lets God guide him His way...
While there's a cherished childlike prayer
That words can somehow bless,
The Poemhunter's search will share
God's Truth and happiness...
Denis Martindale, copyright, August 2010.
Denis Martindale 1300 poems
http://www.poemhunter.com/denis-martindale/
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 11:47 AM UTC
Band-aids to prevent the social infections that could eventually
spread to the frontal lobe,
Diseases started on Fox News, spread to the living room,
circulate around the family dinner table
putting victims of ignorance on the coroner’s slab
Alleviate the pain.
Should we let the gapping wounds of intolerance fester, decay and grow maggots?
***** bigotry, vile illiteracy, primitive ideas coat the skins of society like a black goo.
Band-aids: self adhesive bandages
We aren’t teachers. We are medics.
covering the gapping wounds of life
lathering the lesions with Neosporin.
Healing the scars from parenting gone wrong
- scars from wounded self-esteems
-lacerations to the proverbial heart
Scars lasting longer than the body itself.
No one knows where its impact will end.
Band-aids
temporary fix
heal the wound fast, heal the hurt faster
A Johnson and Johnson remedy for damaged organisms
Well-meaning ones hurling scriptures scald hands with tainted words
Healing is a matter of time.
Arm teachers to protect children from the crazies who loom?
What will protect them from their own inherited ignorance?
The damage is already done when they get here.
Equip us with Band-Aids, boxes and boxes.
Hello Kitty over their ears to block the infection from coming in
Spiderman for their mouths. Stop the seepage of any contamination from spreading to others.
The remaining scars will fade, but not disappear.
even with a band-aid.
Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 8:13 PM UTC
I
I SAW a staring ****** stand
Where holy Dionysus died,
And tear the heart out of his side.
And lay the heart upon her hand
And bear that beating heart away;
Of Magnus Annus at the spring,
As though God's death were but a play.
Another Troy must rise and set,
Another lineage feed the crow,
Another Argo's painted prow
Drive to a flashier bauble yet.
The Roman Empire stood appalled:
It dropped the reins of peace and war
When that fierce ****** and her Star
Out of the fabulous darkness called.
In pity for man's darkening thought
He walked that room and issued thence
In Galilean turbulence;
The Babylonian starlight brought
A fabulous, formless darkness in;
Odour of blood when Christ was slain
Made all platonic tolerance vain
And vain all Doric discipline.
Everything that man esteems
Endures a moment or a day.
Love's pleasure drives his love away,
The painter's brush consumes his dreams;
The herald's cry, the soldier's tread
Exhaust his glory and his might:
Whatever flames upon the night
Man's own resinous heart has fed.
2k
I am: yet what I am none cares or knows
My friends forsake me like a memory lost,
I am the self-consumer of my woes—
They rise and vanish in oblivious host,
Like shadows in love’s frenzied, stifled throes—
And yet I am, and live—like vapors tossed
Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,
Into the living sea of waking dreams,
Where there is neither sense of life or joys,
But the vast shipwreck of my life’s esteems;
Even the dearest, that I love the best,
Are strange—nay, rather stranger than the rest.
I long for scenes, where man hath never trod,
A place where woman never smiled or wept—
There to abide with my Creator, God,
And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept,
Untroubling, and untroubled where I lie,
The grass below—above the vaulted sky.
1.9k
Dread, is when I took step after endless step on the staircase of death.
No. ‘Death’ is too extreme - ‘staircase of scattered limbs and self-esteems.’
The summit wasn’t far now yet it wasn’t getting any closer.
My cousin Keya was behind me; her breath cooled
my sun-blistered calves and I looked back at her.
Her almond eyes and her thin lips came together
in that customary way that moved anyone to her command.
I turned back and took the steps two at a time, too quickly to think.
Was the sky really this blue?
When it isn’t crowded out by buildings, planes and industry
it could be mistaken for the smiling reflection of an unbroken ocean.
It was a strange feeling, to be so tall and no taller. I thought:
‘if I were to live here,
I’d forever be looking down at the rest of the world.’
Keya’s little head scans the ground at my feet before she joins me.
I grit my teeth and
ignore my knocking knees.
The clouds had stood still as if they had stopped to watch and right then, it was hard to see
how this moment could possibly end.
Braying, restless braying shook me out of my reverie.
The clamour of the fiendish contingent below us clashed violently
against each other. Some
were new challengers.
Others hoped to reclaim the dignities they had lost up here.
I raised my foot; ‘I am ready’.
A hand gently pushes the small of my back.
‘No’ I thought. ‘I’m not ready at all.’
My bony bottom bounces off the sides of the slide to cheers from below. Keya laughs, and follows.
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 12:12 PM UTC
Ladies come and ladies go, like a revolving door.
Some never come back but most come back for the mack,
that is embedded in me, cuz I clearly show them how beautiful they are inside and out like a shining star.
I build self esteems to help them go far
and make sure they know that they are above par.
Par is the level in golf that they expect you to make,
you beautiful women exceed that by far with just a little shake,
you are able to take any mans heart. Some use and abuse this ability.
Once they have a mans heart , it is folded and molded like play dough. having a man confused not knowing whether he wants to come or go. Sometimes, I just sit back and admire the strength and power women.
Too many of them don't know the power they posses.
Physical....Verbal....Emotional abuse, I believe they shouldn't take these conditions of life anymore
and stop....the....revolving.....door.
May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 12:41 PM UTC
I
I saw a staring ****** stand
Where holy Dionysus died,
And tear the heart out of his side.
And lay the heart upon her hand
And bear that beating heart away;
Of Magnus Annus at the spring,
As though God's death were but a play.
Another Troy must rise and set,
Another lineage feed the crow,
Another Argo's painted prow
Drive to a flashier bauble yet.
The Roman Empire stood appalled:
It dropped the reins of peace and war
When that fierce ****** and her Star
Out of the fabulous darkness called.
II
In pity for man's darkening thought
He walked that room and issued thence
In Galilean turbulence;
The Babylonian starlight brought
A fabulous, formless darkness in;
Odour of blood when Christ was slain
Made all platonic tolerance vain
And vain all Doric discipline.
Everything that man esteems
Endures a moment or a day.
Love's pleasure drives his love away,
The painter's brush consumes his dreams;
The herald's cry, the soldier's tread
Exhaust his glory and his might:
Whatever flames upon the night
Man's own resinous heart has fed.
1.5k
There are no little wars,
no little death or destruction.
No little event
filled with lies, deceit, and corruption
There are no good wars,
not for those affected.
The dead, dying, and homeless,
the shell shocked left afflicted.
There are no little lover's spats,
although they all appear to be.
Devastating battles, ego verses ego,
with no one ever set free.
Poised with a finger on the button,
thinking either one has weapons of mass destruction.
They find the ***** in each others armor,
and give their esteems a sharp reduction
Should I stay or should I leave here?
That, is always the question.
Either way the sun will rise
on a battlefield of tension.
And what of million dollar missiles
lobbed upon a question,
while Detroit looks like a warzone,
sorely in need of reconstruction?
*I had a fight with my wife, I wanted to leave. But my battle isn't with her, it's within me.
Should we attack Syria, or should we take that money to rebuild this great nation?*
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 11:37 PM UTC
An idled peace in the forest breathes
Every thought in itself
Whole.
It must be the life spirit, the ministry,
Pole to pole rejoicing.
The thin veil lifted, a school of
Sweeping wings. Let this strange
Hill of nature's suit cradle
Itself.
Let that child rest.
My cottage beads in July's torment.
I dreamed of a fair day
Is why I'm here.
Revolving perspective, will someone
Please hand me a credible vantage point.
The lens to get an even look.
This ancient, contemplating
Frost moon.
Quiet thought.
Night beats on platters. Heaves
Roving breath.
Dwelling in Innocence
Till birth
Tender eyed, forgotten.
Sweet,
The day will come.
She, today, moves in fabulous array
Of shimmering sparks. Light pale drips
From her shoulders.
Bare wax, the space between myself
And the candle.
Blow away the pride and stand straight to her.
Step in stride. Give her
One to look at.
The sense that life esteems joyfully
Hosting frenzy indeed.
Vast scenes of shipwrecked landscapes.
Ruins whipped by choppy dust.
Heaven's heart treads alone,
Through the ocean's side.
The path of dew is told by the sky.
Lightning takes care of what is left.
The sunken lesson,
Knowing night is close. Shall
We bend through the lilacs weeping?
Laughing?
Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 5:49 PM UTC
Eros walked into the chamber, garnering all eyes
Lust and Limerence walked by her side
They stopped before a panel where Venus did preside
And Cupid next to Venus, gripped his arrows like a prize
And the Muses made up the rest
And all muscles in the chamber braced for unrest
Glances and gazes did continuously dart
As all sported lockets of fire by their hearts
Venus declared mankind must suffer in pain
For all efforts to show the world love have been in vain
And to continue gifting love would be insanity, a chore
Cause they’d take their piece of it and still declare war,
On themselves and on one another
Slaughtering their self-esteems, siblings, fathers, mothers
Yet Eros objected, keeping her eyes peeled
Declaring love has always been a battlefield
And Cupid fired an arrow at Ero’s way
And Lust led the limp arrow astray
Then those enlightened ones lit fuses that day
And the shrapnel from that fight still makes it way
Through hearts of men and women with feelings at play
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 10:07 AM UTC
*I'd never seen flowers that don't fade
Elastic hearts that don't break
Books that have never been read
Affairs sailing smooth and not wreck
Hadn't come across leaves that don't fall
persons completely worthy of my trust
someone who gets my esteems tall
exposed wrought irons that never rust
Had never known hazel eyes without tears
romance surviving without chemistry
valuable experience without years
findings of passion without mystery
Had never seen Angels out of paradise
or spoken of beauty like I speak of your eyes*
Apr 23, 2016
Apr 23, 2016 at 3:53 AM UTC
LESBIA! since far from you I’ve rang’d,
Our souls with fond affection glow not;
You say, ’tis I, not you, have chang’d,
I’d tell you why,—but yet I know not.
Your polish’d brow no cares have crost;
And Lesbia! we are not much older,
Since, trembling, first my heart I lost,
Or told my love, with hope grown bolder.
Sixteen was then our utmost age,
Two years have lingering pass’d away, love!
And now new thoughts our minds engage,
At least, I feel disposed to stray, love!
“Tis I that am alone to blame,
I, that am guilty of love’s treason;
Since your sweet breast is still the same,
Caprice must be my only reason.
I do not, love! suspect your truth,
With jealous doubt my ***** heaves not;
Warm was the passion of my youth,
One trace of dark deceit it leaves not.
No, no, my flame was not pretended;
For, oh! I lov’d you most sincerely;
And though our dream at last is ended
My ***** still esteems you dearly.
No more we meet in yonder bowers;
Absence has made me prone to roving;
But older, firmer hearts than ours
Have found monotony in loving.
Your cheek’s soft bloom is unimpair’d,
New beauties, still, are daily bright’ning,
Your eye, for conquest beams prepar’d,
The forge of love’s resistless lightning.
Arm’d thus, to make their bosoms bleed,
Many will throng, to sigh like me, love!
More constant they may prove, indeed;
Fonder, alas! they ne’er can be, love!
1.2k
sometimes
i feel angry
simply plainly
contempt for
assumptive people
greed
jealousy
a lack of empathy
i, too,
struggle
but this is
fist against the pillow
swallowing brick-shaped tears
eyes burning
i forgot to
blink
contorted face
a lemon of
a realization
i am trapped
wholly really
unless i choose
to remove myself
from
the equation
i can't
i can't do that
i have so many
more lives to lead
words to cherish
esteems to encompass
and so
i cry
because remaining
willfully ensnared
aches
nonstop
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 2:41 AM UTC
These things belong on a shelf
Like a bottle of tears that looks like a stuffed animal
And a pillow case that became a great transport of rage,
Amidst the dust and clutter
Runs my subconscious animal seeking blood, meat,
Retribution and the slightest gain
Through the wires of the human body
Cut and casually rearranged.
These things are purposed
As notches in a Grecian urn
Cold reminders of a worthwhile mistake
Taken astride and antiqued
For me, for you, betokened at my expense
Because I need to eat, occasionally oddly,
And when the stomach can’t trust the hands
Your clothing stays close to your body.
These things are like dresses on a library,
Dressing the dirt underneath
As life preservers full of water, full of wine
But these are situational traumas
And never lacking their angel wings
Defective and cuckolding self-esteems next to me
Hold hands at the bottom of the ebb and flow
Of human misery or ecstasy,
Just maybe it’ll hurt too much this time,
As revenge for my laughing at its brothers.
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 10:47 AM UTC
My full moon when you come near become super moon
In complete darkness you will prove to be a real boon
For your alluring beauty my love will prove a good tune
Music of my love and frequency of your beauty have hewn
My sweetheart come near to me to enlighten me with beams
Let us make life beautiful try to disappear to sweet dreams
Let us be part of galaxies to dance and play with love streams
Let us be frank to touch clear blue sky in our love esteems
Eternity of love will celebrate chain of love for times to come
We will be in heaven by overcoming trials of life troublesome
Rivals with their inherent contempt ,hatred may create chasm
I am a romantic poet of the East, you my sweetheart love poem
Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
Jan 23, 2017
Jan 23, 2017 at 11:45 PM UTC
i want to remove a lot of my face or maybe the whole thing
i now avoid drinking water and i figured out why
i dont like going to the bathroom because then i have to see more of my body
i love ****** up self esteems
they spice up life, truly
wow. wow ****
the number of times i think about suicide daily is increasing but its not really worrying at all so its okay
i hate the word suicide because theres too much to say about it.
you cant just mention it and get away with it
my mother doesnt like my poems and thats sad to me because they are the only thing i care about that i do.
i love crying next to computers
i just had a strong urge to break a glass cup
one time i yelled something while in my house alone and then threw up on the floor and broke a cabinet
my mother asked “why is this cabinet broken?” one week later
i said “i have no idea. i didnt even notice”
she tried to tape it up before her parents came over for dinner
at the table she mentioned i write great poems
one month later she said she didnt like what i write
hey can i get a glass of water
please hmu with some water im literally dehydrated
**** your goth baseball playing son
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 6:46 PM UTC
Your kiss is sweet enough to quench my thirst,
My hunger, and the flames of my esteems,
But when time comes when your sweet lips are pursed
Such love bears forth a vault of wilted dreams.
Coy mistress, be such bashful fancy crime,
Love shall imprison you in shackles, drear
But why ‘pend on your lips and their sweet clime
When in you dwells an aspect, more so fair?
Must I pursue instead love by the core,
And not by sweetness of the outer shell?
Aye, hungering solely by your lips no more
I must myself and all my thirst compel!
Why must I lead to kiss the lips of you
Thus make what love I’ve taken to be true?
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 11:52 PM UTC
A magic moment, I remember;
I found a girl with confined mean.
Being; pure and outspoken; proud of you;
Whatever you do, I will see you through.
In cloudy moments of uncertainty,
I raise my eyes and you are here.
A fleeting vision, the quintessence,
Of all that’s beautiful and rare.
I pray to mute despair and anguish,
To vain pursuits worlds esteems.
A soothing accent, near to you,
To make me neat and sew.
In dark night of embedded universe;
I gazed upon gray moon above.
With a face in moon, who inspires me,
Affects here to live for and love.
A truth spoken sentence to roar,
To present a life much more.
You are the one, encourages me,
To engage relation with sacred tie.
- Pratik
Apr 15, 2019
Apr 15, 2019 at 12:27 AM UTC
Life is an endless stream of strange and wonderful events
At times our sweet dreams take us to palaces being in tents
We face realities of life with harsh and sweet comments
With relentless efforts even we can't repair ugly dents
Soul makes us cry heart takes to other external extremes
From sheer darkness at times we get enlightened beams
Our unfulfilled wishes come become colorful in dreams
Men with clear intentions make teams with proud esteems
Let take a fresh start with heart and soul blank neat and clean
This is how we can **** our intentions mean to be evergreen
Be aware of evil on scene and to abolish it fully from screen
Be cheerful and realist to face reality make virtue your routine
Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
Oct 16, 2016
Oct 16, 2016 at 3:08 AM UTC
A gregarious culture
connected to a stream,
an electric herding
of mediocre self esteems.
A network of fringe
for the modern conformity.
A new breed of introverts
plugging antisocial irony.
Nov 24, 2020
Nov 24, 2020 at 12:03 PM UTC
O rain, tear-like drops of almighty nature
whenever you come falling down
the earth tries to soak up the moisture
as if it were all willing to drown.
In times of need you are a blessing
and all the land cries out for thee
to restore life that you’re possessing
helping to grow fruit as on a tree.
The sun can not really have it all its own way
and hides behind clouds with you in store
although its light is dimmed part or all of the day
what you have to give then is required more.
The waters of life that fall down with a shower
and flow through the land in many streams
have the grace to transform a seed into a flower
whose nectar bees gather and health esteems.
It’s only when you overflow your boundary
and come falling down as if in a rage
you do more harm than good being contrary
to what is expected and don’t assuage.
With your two associates the lightning and thunder
and your other cohort the wind blowing strong
you try to subdue or intimidate everything thereunder
by wreaking havoc as if redressing some wrong.
It’s very fortunate for us that this doesn’t happen too often
and despite all the things which go on each day
I notice the ground, air and the minds of people do soften
after having come and gone and spent your play.
O rain, you are only just one of the forces of almighty nature
and if employed in season or need can draw no blood
but deployed haphazardly will bring down any proud stature
sweeping away all before you when rushing in a flood.
Oct 30, 2010
Oct 30, 2010 at 7:58 PM UTC
Stuck in the wilderness, among the sanctums of green and indigo grandeur
Romulus and Remus are writing along their wills, shaking hands with the forest spirits as they pass by on the thorn covered roads
Crowns of silver being woven by the wrens in the willows, transmuting their echoes to blistered esteems
Among these wrecked ships, that naval graveyard whispering ink patches to sandpaper cathedrals
These things set in, among green woods with creatures looking on, as the sun sets upon the world
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 5:24 PM UTC
my anxiety had consumed me
i was looking for an out
my friends said you were the key
that, i didn't doubt
i was worried it could be risky
but my friends said it was time
said you worked better than whiskey
and you're taste was sublime
my friends all tried to claim
my troubles would be gone
soon like a moth to a flame
to you i was drawn
my confidence was frail
but my willingness had shifted
and with one deep inhale
my troubles were lifted
i was laughing and happy
and it all felt so great
my life had been really ******
you took away the pain, fear, and hate
why are you illegal
when you bless us so
you give us a feeling so regal
and let our smiles show
you remove all of our pain and hurt
to let us be happy for an hour
you pick our self esteems up out of the dirt
and let us appreciate the beauty in a flower
you allow us to appreciate
sight, smell, sound, touch and taste
as our lives depreciate
and more troubles are faced
our meeting was fateful
you let me be a happier me
i am forever grateful
for how you set me free
Jan 13, 2019
Jan 13, 2019 at 3:11 PM UTC
Below my feet I feel glass
Under my ******* I feel sweat perspired by pain
In between my eyes I see anxiety emerging through my veins right into my eyes
My teeth clench themselves in agony
My voice creaks with fury because beauty is defined by profanity
Profanity embraced by people because they think they know better
Who are we to judge?
But who are we to not judge?
Defined jaws from promiscuous women clasp with fury and worry
Their belief of beauty is supposedly seen through them
Everyone else wonders as to how this may be possible
But their conniving and piercing words curb our brains for their beneficial belief
I sit and wonder how one could possibly define what beauty is…
A tongue that bares words of ultimate obscenity provides atrocity to those whom may be concerned
When you look into their eyes you see fear
Fear of being judged and fear of feeling lost
Rage fumes through their eyes and the burning sensation triggers their tongues to hurt others as a mechanism to feel better
Words spat out from their mouths haze those who they are meant for
These women think beauty is seen from physicality but others beg to differ.
I for one, know that I am one of them
I am not much of a beautiful person on the outside but I know that through all my internal trials and tribulations, I am a beautiful person inside
Windy weathers determine a person’s mood and these women fail to understand
They fail to understand that an increase in problems lights up a matchstick that could burn down a person’s soul
The weather already provides gloom for those in doom but these women fail to comprehend the pain and desolation brought by this weather
These wanton women think Louis Vuitton items define a person’s worth
Lord have mercy may passages of evil not swallow them
May oceans of hurt not sink them
All they have to do is learn how to not judge but how to love
This will help them build their self-esteems into an empire full of care
enriched by hairs of happiness
Perfection may be a satisfaction
But imperfections make one’s life worthwhile
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 1:12 PM UTC