"exhibiting" poems
You bring me good news from the clinic,
Whipping off your silk scarf, exhibiting the tight white
Mummy-cloths, smiling: I'm all right.
When I was nine, a lime-green anesthetist
Fed me banana-gas through a frog mask. The nauseous vault
Boomed with bad dreams and the Jovian voices of surgeons.
Then mother swam up, holding a tin basin.
O I was sick.
They've changed all that. Traveling
**** as Cleopatra in my well-boiled hospital shift,
Fizzy with sedatives and unusually humorous,
I roll to an anteroom where a kind man
Fists my fingers for me. He makes me feel something precious
Is leaking from the finger-vents. At the count of two,
Darkness wipes me out like chalk on a blackboard. . .
I don't know a thing.
For five days I lie in secret,
Tapped like a cask, the years draining into my pillow.
Even my best friend thinks I'm in the country.
Skin doesn't have roots, it peels away easy as paper.
When I grin, the stitches tauten. I grow backward. I'm twenty,
Broody and in long skirts on my first husband's sofa, my fingers
Buried in the lambswool of the dead poodle;
I hadn't a cat yet.
Now she's done for, the dewlapped lady
I watched settle, line by line, in my mirror—
Old sock-face, sagged on a darning egg.
They've trapped her in some laboratory jar.
Let her die there, or wither incessantly for the next fifty years,
Nodding and rocking and ********* her thin hair.
Mother to myself, I wake swaddled in gauze,
Pink and smooth as a baby.
5.3k
Of serene eyes that follow gently
the illicit pill she could not let go
it was heavy as the waters pulling her inside
serenading her with an estranged voice
coming from within —
her minimizing the desire to let it out
as the sun quiets down
and the gibbous moon exhibiting itself at night,
resisting the waves occurring —
as if it loathed her whole being
of her justness and the absence of these causes
her grieving and the sirens waltzing,
talking through an absentminded eye
eyeing her soul
finding love that seizes it
but hers were two feet and one mouth to breathe in
even in all shades of blue,
she can get a glimpse of the dark hue
illuminating the downside of the ocean
pulling her, wrecking her soul.
Redemption does not lie —
humoring her with plainly just truth
craving for the applause of the moon
only observing the depth of the ocean
eating the once alive soul
of her saving her last breath,
chiming in with the conversation, she
once had with him.
It could have been nice the resistance
he once had — to throw himself out
to the beauty of his light that shed
her whole body
he once was able to have
and he stayed there, eyed her the whole time
being eaten on the lonesome of the night
for he himself, shading all the blueness
like a requiem for the dreams
she kept on having
like a composition giving life
to new generations, he was still on
a token and a curse, and he let her be —
in all shades of blue.
Jul 11, 2022
Jul 11, 2022 at 5:21 AM UTC
Behaviour of Writing
In psychology pre- uni.
Case study of a mental man.
Or crazy lady on a play day.
Remarked on mental cases.
Exhibiting strange behaviour.
Writing so was stated.
A subtle gentleman perhaps.
Lady chilling in the evenings.
Picks up pen and writes.
Why I asked,
Oh why,
Oh why is writing thought strange.
We writers we,
we are not deranged.
Write because we wish to .
Scrawl to save our souls.
Scribbled wishes in verses.
Cathartic.
Words drawn because we want to.
Words drawn because we can.
Removes the daily curses.
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 6:59 PM UTC
On the night of initiation,
curves of pale luster began to gleam unwrinkled from the darkened divots along the lunar surface
A perspective unseen for so long, it was viewed as a defaulted “wink” on the face of the moon
And therefore, forgotten, unmentioned, until it’s means were sought
From days ‘fore, and long since now dust
Scribing authors, secrete beads of frenzy into ink filled phial
Sending tremors down, into the quill tip
Filling scrolls for permanence in a preemptive defense against continuous unraveling thoughts would befall
this fluency into incoherent clutter
Pioneers of preprint in a provoking tome,
would speak educated reasons why these areas of Moon had been locked under sealed dark punishment
since Empedocles mixed cosmic elements to breed an undeniable proving truth
Exhibiting the myth of danger
alongside
The established absolute and supervening fizzling sunset
proving the existence of love...
—————————————————-
“Since I have given you words from my within
like the ecliptic rising and burning massive,
Our mutual visibility of late is either one-sided
or
short lived
I’ll take a detour around the comforts of romance
And try to talk my way into your pants
By tossing at you, letters squeezed together,
for your minds transcription into the heart of my subliminal write
In hopes you’ll feel a trickling gush
If I get really lucky these words will find you like a volcano erupts a ****
The same way water, beating against years of stone can fall
And crash through a dam with pouring force so insatiable it’s territory is marked in history
Jun 22, 2019
Jun 22, 2019 at 11:09 PM UTC
I should be ecstatic
I should be breathtaking the second I walk
into the room with you
I should be full of effortless perfection and captivating laughter
I should hold you like the rare gem you are
polishing you, weightless by your worth
I should weep with sweet gratefulness over our stunning photos
and memory keepsake moments
I should be a beauty queen rolemodel
exhibiting class and coordination and intelligence
I should be ravishing in your love,
a kaleidescope of pinks and yellows and magic
I should be bathing in the taste of your devoted kiss
and sunning under your Carribean embrace
I should be a blonde hair blue eyed American dream
Instead of a
Miserable maniac that can't even write a ******* poem.
Instead of a terrible daydreamer,
bored by the periods at the end of your sentences. . .
Instead of a tarnished transient seeking foolish adventure
Craving endless oceans, cliche flight humor, and saving
animals I didn't even know existed to begin with
Instead of a jaded view from every set of empty eyes
Instead of an indulgent *******
that wants more than this terribly wonderful life
that you've offered me.
I really should.
Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 9:51 PM UTC
Social Climbing
How many asks what is the way forward?
The lack of thought impregnates our air.
By thoughts and acts we pursue social achievements,
Exhibiting selfishness, chaos and insecurity.
We promote ourselves through groups and individuals,
Paving the way to social fame and glory.
All while our country rivers crest with blood,
Peaked by the sacrifices of those socially conscious.
Their protests to gain our freedoms unrecognized,
By those of us tied up in the hunt for fame.
Is it this the dream, we strive to gain?
Shamed am I that we have not addressed their demise.
Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 1:51 PM UTC
When a traditional
Music and dance,
Accentuating
A century-old bilateral
Ties, took place
A biracial and mesmeric
Greek goddess,
With chocolate Lucy's face,
Exhibiting elegance
And radiant face,
With splendour
Leased in the citadel of
My heart a place
Making it palpitate
Picking pace
Driving home
The cross breeding of
This with that race
At times lends human beings
Unmatched grace! ///
Mar 25, 2017
Mar 25, 2017 at 10:10 AM UTC
I could tell you how to write a poem
Playful phrasing, not too quick, not too strong,
Be graphic and persuasive, appealing to us all,
The want for supposed meaning and a silver tongue
Is the truth beneath our fall
Heartfelt sentiment, articulation,
Let’s entice some Pharisees to avoid any tribulation
For the bouts and shouts of living out
And extravagantly exhibiting oneself to all and everyone—
Clichéd, now it may be,
There’s truth in that I see
Can we find apparent happiness
All appearance and accreditation,
Let’s be certain we’re (clandestinely) drudging for recognition,
Yet, I can never tell you what is true in writing,
The slow path? That’s what I long for,
Or profess, in the world of colorful mosaics,
I am the truth! The way and the light!
I’ll set you free! The God of Wonders!
Can’t you see?
I’m God, I’ve always meant to be!
*Heaven help me,
I didn’t mean to pretend
But I believed beyond
What even I could comprehend..
I’m not God, this I know,
But is this—
The way I'll go?*
It is my end…
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 10:20 PM UTC
Exhibiting the strength of
the muscles of my mind
the muscles of my thighs
Strumming like the string of a kite
Bend, work, appease,
Move, tighten, tense, contract,
Release
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 3:50 PM UTC
Leaves aging gray covered with dust,
Iron losing its will to cope up with rust,
Flowers withered losing their lust,
And the hope pulverized by the broken trust.
Days swiftly passing by like a river flowing
To those memories from the days of yore they are holding,
With mournful souls they are living
Each passing day feels like dying.
Not much do they have, still surviving the wave,
Crawling their paths, on which the traces will engrave,
Swallowing the curse and exhibiting the traits of a brave,
Succumbed to temptation, still prolonging their grave.
Holding on to what is still left of them after being broken
With bruises all over - purple and swollen,
Hearing those painful words that remained unspoken
Their hearts lost, stolen.
As love never fades, but grows each season,
People do change, for love is the reason,
It reigns in any region,
A salvation emerging, shining like a beacon.
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 4:02 AM UTC
Behold the King!
The Monarch, he comes.
Men of High birth to bow at the waist,
Head down, avoiding direct eye contact,
Less the King perceive from them a threat.
Women of the Court a deep curtsey,
Eyes lovingly appraising and focused on his Majesty,
That he may appraise them in return,
Maidens in hopes of finding his favors.
Common people, to sprawl prostrate on their Faces,
Eyes always down cast, to never look upon his Royal Presence,
Thus in turn, never to be noticed by the King.
Alas, though commoner I be, I peeked a look and beheld,
To my surprise, the mighty King was completely naked!
Shocked even more to see, His Majesty publicly exhibiting,
His oh so, insignificant manly short comings.
That indeed, this so called Princely man was in truth,
No more nobler than me!
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 1:10 PM UTC
a blaze of stars
decorate the bush sky's darkness
a blaze of stars
their lighting is like glitter bars
twinkling in arraying brightness
exhibiting beautifulness
a blaze of stars
Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 9:17 AM UTC
As we wander through the dunes rhythm,
The blistering sun jaunts across,
Exhibiting the elegance of the sanguine sands,
A ravishing roots of colours,
Whirling on the Sahara,
The beautiful blue skies,
Their true reflection,
With delight we trail from audaghust to the inlands,
In a waddling gait,
The heavy luggages on humps,
Are the loads of luxury bade by kumbi saleh,
The camels and jockeys pride themselves in it flamboyant environs,
And our thobes and keffiyeh makes merry,
In the breeze of sacred grove trees,
Mesmerizing the aesthetics of Arab architecture,
Treking through the routes of Tjilmasa to Tehrent,
In the comfort of the oases,
Replenishing our thirst and fatigue,
With benevolent breeze from palms and peaches,
Glancing at the magnificent mirages pearls,
We sight the atlas mountains,
And its Maghreb,
Caravan
A Poem Written By,
Historian E.Lexano
©March 8,2015
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 11:26 AM UTC
The starving artist
full of passion and hurt
His only possession is the dream
Everyday he wears his dream like a shirt
Meaningless conversations hit nerves
Only he can feel and express into words
Time that could be better spent on plotting
Spent on talk of broken women and gold watches
Watch that time tick daily
Thinking deep praying the people never hate me
The starving artist
Empty stomach and heart
Working on perfecting his craft
Reminiscing about the now distant start
Afraid of failure more than anything
Fearing the day it all falls apart
No backup plan
No such thing as something else
Knowing your only talent
Will either take you down
Or bring you wealth
The starving artist
In such a delicate place
Exhibiting frustration
Touchy conversations on thoughts
Of never making it
You can see the passion
No way of faking it
So many broken nights
Causing you to procrastinate
Trying to get a jump on life
Before it's too late
Mar 15, 2018
Mar 15, 2018 at 5:28 AM UTC
Each time we hug
It is the moment
I unplug
At times
From life's
Harsh realities
Most times
Toasting to life's
Long-lasting
Delicacies.
I can still recall
The first time we met
Not yet recognizing
It was going to set
This journey
We have been sharing
Creating our own kind
First-class experiences
In the routine.
We dance and have coffee
Talk future and memories
Building
Brick by brick
The most precious
Skyscraper of friendship.
Each time we hug
We are honest at heart
Whether we are
Bursting out
With laughter
Or the hours we are
Caught in a sob.
My life is living it all with you
The hurt, the pain
The best, the great
There are not enough
Thank you's
To show my gratitude
But I hope you know
Each time we hug
It is me also exhibiting
I love you.
May 9, 2013
May 9, 2013 at 5:54 AM UTC
An exotic leopard roars
She devours each and every thought
Naturally I plea for more
A small price reminiscence brought
Across the room taunting she winks
Exhibiting her work of art
I refrain emotion to make her think
Upon this temptress I shall dart
From ****** city anxious I stray
Paused betwixt happiness and dismay
Feb 15, 2012
Feb 15, 2012 at 7:35 PM UTC
who was responsible
for the queen's ultimate disappearance
who took it upon themselves
to seek her clearance
over quite a length of time
those of a regal pedigree
have been unexpectedly vanished
from the monarchical tree
these culprits cannot be
traced anywhere on the ground
its as thought they are secreted
beneath a shadowy mound
and we aren't able to stem
their anti regal sentiment
which is ever hardening
like a ten ton cube of cement
exhibiting the crown's
bloodline doth bring vaporization
where there will be nowt more
espying of a visitation
danger is omnipresent
and its peril aimed on any empress
an unknown body of disfavour
not requiring her impress
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 9:48 PM UTC
595
Like Mighty Foot Lights—burned the Red
At Bases of the Trees—
The far Theatricals of Day
Exhibiting—to These—
’Twas Universe—that did applaud—
While Chiefest—of the Crowd—
Enabled by his Royal Dress—
Myself distinguished God—
1.4k
Gazing into the abyss,
Experiencing extraordinary bliss.
Irrefutably tranquil and content,
How foolish, to proudly circumvent.
The prominent beauty you observe
Could surely devistate and unnerve
This deceitful cunning entity
Obtaining the essence of identity
Becoming a grotesque atrocity
Such unexplainable ferocity
A strong burning temptation
Revenge and retaliation
Your surges on the rise
Underestimating you was unwise
Exhibiting robust and hostile motion
You are, infact, the ocean.
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 5:42 AM UTC
country roads
highways
bridges
exhibiting a city in
kinematic frames
to pass
high speed
low speed
lit windows
a kitchen
a tv screen
a bedside lamp
curtains down
nobody's home
cottages
villages
overcrowded districts
dots and dots
each lit window
each turned off light
a story
a me
a us
they
lost
anonimously
as dots
in the distance
forgotten
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 7:06 PM UTC
*Choreographing words
Into theatrical dances
With her imagination,
Gracefully exhibiting
All of her thoughts -
Using letters
As lavish decoration.
Having them leap-out
Onto the stage,
Outside of her mind,
Hoping each performance,
"Her life's story,"
You will find.
By Lady R.F ©2016*
Dec 15, 2016
Dec 15, 2016 at 10:33 PM UTC
Showing translucent and pure charity,
His kindness is hence often called surreal.
With friend and enemy in parity,
Utter selflessness he will not repeal.
Exhibiting only daft pretension,
He is one enraptured by self-caring.
One to harm another for attention,
But in self-survival never daring.
In this universal reality,
He is these both and these neither within,
Glorifying unseen morality,
Enveloped by demonic fires of sin,
Giving it all and taking what he can,
Passionate and deceiving, he is man.
Jan 24, 2011
Jan 24, 2011 at 6:38 PM UTC
Maiden and Observer
As speculated,
The observer and the scientist
See an enigmatic entrance.
The arrival of the specimen:
He shows haste,
His wrist flickers:
Punctuality.
He mouthes questions of career:
Orderliness.
His vocal appetite silent:
Surrender.
He declares instruction:
Superiority.
He brightens athleticism.
Focus.
The smile appears through
in the unknownest places,
Within restaurant doors,
Through the soundwaves.
Through ideations:
Competitive movement.
Inertia and stagnation is of disinterest.
Wordly reflection produces empty reciprocration.
Can it be a metaphor for the observer,
Can the specimen by the symbol?
Both reflected from one another.
There is the one,
and then, the other.
The challenge is:
Exhibiting both states
Simultaenously.
This is the task of the maiden.
The balancer of scales.
The scientist seeks to understand,
There is evidence of somes sort
A hidden bliss a smile inside,
a moment of analysis.
Notions brought on by previous experiments.
Past failures predict present outcome,
Recent knowledge or estimation?
Emotion links to reason,
Reason negotiates but stands firm,
The scientist is fatigued, his hand lowers.
Body language is lazily interpreted by curious Observer,
Studying this new behaviour.
The professor places his spectacles on,
He sees no other path to take,
He concludes and hypothesises,
This specimen can be learnt from
No more.
Specimen's silence allows flowing thoughts to pervade the mind of the observer and the scientist.
Silence given to the cynicism of life,
the broadened mind
perceived as narrow.
The observer is observed.
Now conciousness changes in the realm of the user experiencing himself.
Self perception, self defense,
Guard is raised,
Gates are closed.
Only water flows through,
Other matter obstructed.
Maiden, Observer, Scientist, Specimen.
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 11:07 AM UTC
harbouring virtuousity, curious to express
exhibiting, she firmly held the pen
to jot down the mystic emotion,
the exquisite dream
oblivious of the mounting stress
pouring
the dissipating words recklessly fading
confused up wit
unable to sought down, the oblivion of sleep
knew not what to indite
unable to contemplate the very dream
but thoughtfully only was such the fuddled sapidness
the psychic images ; a subtle dream
dreary eyes
thirstily awaited
till the very amnesia faded
for the sole muzzy feeling, this the only manifest
suffice the unenviable question
whence crept the feeling?
whence the love aviate?
where rested the answer?
sudden diaphanous streak
stroke sorely to the pounding wit
paralyzing her for the moment being
the sudden egest
whatever the persistent burden
gone
for now
them thoughts voyaged operosely
beyond the abyssal pupil now dwelt
the glamorous face, snowy heavenly dress..
the very words ; euphoric conversation
lasting gentle tepid touch
that had dourly crept and haunted
throughout the delusive night...
penned down
finally incurred
peace
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 1:32 PM UTC
Apocalyptic dreams
An ubiquitous presence of the unholy entities
I'm sitting by the riverside
My cat has suddenly started exhibiting taciturn traits
Spiders are floating with immense soigné
The bucolic setting leaves me hypnotised
I'm not used to this silence
Fishes underwater petrify my insights
I'm sitting by the riverside
Amazed by the eloquence of the obscure
My eyes seem to reflect my up bringing
The differences leave me in a state of vertigo
I hope this reverie lasts a little longer.
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 4:29 AM UTC