"eyeshadows" poems
At the stroke of five o’ clock
The crew begins to trickle in the door for
Josie’s Slumber Party.
Hand cut finger sandwiches adorn
The chestnut coffee table already brimming
With nail polishes and eyeshadows
In hues of peacock blue and bubblegum pink
And temptress scarlet red. The girls
Romp around the room like ballerinas
Dressed in everything from soccer shorts to
Mama’s high heels. Two sizes too big.
Practically ladies as they gloss their lips but
Girlish giggles and squeals reveal their
Youth: Age ten; age eleven; age twelve.
And in the middle of this fine affair
Polished nails are used to pick at teeth;
Makeup adheres to bangs, braids and ponytails.
Bare hands brush through the knotted hair of
Any and All. Beauty – of course – is collective, yet
Dignified.
As if to call the girls over, lure them in so painfully slow,
The sprinklers awaken on the front lawn and spill forth
Waterfalls of childhood memories. Running barefoot
during the searing summer dusk. The girls are under
The Spell. Feather boa and lipstick at hand, they make
A mad dash for the lawn. The squeals are louder, more
Vibrant than before. With grass stains on their gowns
and water re-tangling their freshly styled hair, these
Ladies could not be any more proper.
Jul 11, 2011
Jul 11, 2011 at 3:37 PM UTC
there's a girl who sleeps in my bed
I don't mind her too much
though I wish her nightmares
didn't make such a mess
of the sheets.
she uses my shampoo
I'm okay with sharing
I just wish she would
save me a little
conditioner.
most of the makeup in my room is hers
some of it's mine though
I prefer blushes, eyeshadows
while she collects
concealors.
and sometimes, on the right day
I see her when I look in the mirror
not very often though
I don’t really look a lot
like her.
when I look in the mirror
I see flushed cheeks, wet hair
nails need a trim
hips, a little excess
but okay.
I don’t always see cuts
bruises, starvation, memories
of self-induced punishment
three failed attempts at
"making it stop".
I don’t always see
the ghost of years ago
when I look in the mirror
but sometimes
I do.
Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 1:44 PM UTC
She’s six,
She wants to play and run and with her friends freely mix,
She’s bright,
She wants to reach out to the dimly glowing tunnel of light,
She’s grateful,
She wants to be brave in the face of all that is fearfully fateful,
Imagine…
Pain, pain,
Pain that is so encrusted it eats into her tiny bones unseen,
Pain so heated it needs to be cooled with the kiss of morphine,
One lung sunken never again to flutter or rise,
The other coughs along over craggy cancer heights,
The luscious hair that was once her crown has been plucked away,
All her hair falling into the jealous grip of the dead and dying day,
There is a brain tumour that tick-tocks in the evening shadows,
In her sleep she whispers, “Tell aunty to bring me eyeshadows.”
A circle of spirals, a moonbeam,
She is one of us, what is life but a brief dream?
Jan 17, 2012
Jan 17, 2012 at 8:21 PM UTC
Maybe it was my ball passing
-with a turning sound-
They build the walls
and you will grow up she said
With a soft hair
She didn't understand the wind
She thought she was not being loved
Maybe they don't love Jasmines
The dolls are naked
They want mommy
I didn't like their laughs
Why are they laughing at me ?
Clowns do not laugh
Angel does not need any help
I want eyes
Wearing eyeshadows
Wearing mascara
They don't have tears
The world not have tears
Where's mom ?
Maybe she doesn't love me
She was telling stories as she
was hanging the clothes on the clothesline
My sister was there
The Eglantines go to bed soon
I'm scared
The angel didn't ask for help
I wish there was someone who hears my words
شاید توپ من بود که می رفت
-صدای قل خوردن داشت-
دیوارها را کشیدند
و گفت : تو بزرگ خواهی شد
موهایش نرم بود
باد را نمی فهمید
فکر می کرد دوستش ندارند
شاید یاسمن ها را دوست ندارند
عروسک ها لختند
مامان می خواهند
از خنده هاشان خوشم نمی آمد
چرا به من می خندند
دلقک ها که نمی خندند
فرشته کمک نمی خواهد
من چشم می خواهم
سایه بزند
مژه هایش را
فر کند
اشک ندارند
...اشک نداشته باشند
مادرم کو !؟
شاید دوستم ندارد
وقتی لباس هایم را
زیر آفتاب پهن می کرد
!!! قصه می گفت
خواهرم بود
نسترن ها زود می خوابند
...می ترسم
فرشته کمک نخواست
من می خواهم کسی باشد که حرف هایم را بشنود
Mar 7, 2017
Mar 7, 2017 at 8:28 AM UTC
Oh my tree
blossom child, winter wave-like
eyeshadows and equally
cold stares. Silently
screaming with a closed
mouth. Who ghosts
trough out alone. Do not
waste your lungs
to ponder. Wolfs of
now might starve with summer, but
the hounds of old will
continue to hunt. Alas
not sap drop of pitty
do you deserve. You in
cherry cyanide light who
washes in tears of sugar.
The lycans will at last
tear your ephemeral skin. And you'll
learn to slay beasts like man was meant to
Oct 17, 2018
Oct 17, 2018 at 12:28 PM UTC
You know about my life,
Specifically, love.
You know my secrets,
I give you all my trust.
You always get sensitive about your eyebrows.
You don't even know how to put eyeshadows.
I don't know if you read this already.
But I wanna say my dear cousin, you are lovely.
May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 10:28 AM UTC
The eyeshadows
Of her favorite color palette
Were every bit as neoteric
As they were triturated
--broken to pieces
Inside a mailer
Without bubble wrap
May 20, 2020
May 20, 2020 at 12:16 PM UTC
i keep a drawer in
my bathroom full
of all the things that make
me appear pretty
the little pots of shimmery
eyeshadows to suggest
i’m feminine but more
importantly fully awake
and the dark crayons to
draw lines that simulate
an innocent expression
the powder to smooth out
the bad spots so you
don’t see the bad thoughts
the mascara to pull my lashes
outward and pull the focus
away from what you might
possibly see behind my eyes
*fear
do not
let them see
the fear*
and tucked in the drawer
of pencils and palettes
i keep a sharpener
so when my womanly
sense of protection
begins to dull i will
not find myself
at odds with the competition
in the drawer above them
i keep my elastic bands
to prevent a slow
and knotted descent
into the madness
of being choked
in my hair
my own weird
sometimes insane
always interesting or
at least provocative thoughts
i also keep a pack
of razor blades for
when the constant struggle
to maintain this illusion
of sanity gets to be
too much for me
the hair ties are stretched
beginning to fall out
won’t hold things in place
nearly well enough
and i am completely
blind and lost in this
rainstorm and the wind
blowing in my face
the blades
are calling me again
a dark and
slippery promise
of something
of what?
of peace?
lies
of art?
i can do better
of pain?
always
elusive always
getting away from
me just as soon
as i can pin it down
the purpose
is fear
but only the
expression of it
*i’m afraid
always so
afraid it’s not
good like this
but if i cover
the fear with
my clothes
no one will
ever even
know*
i keep a drawer
in my bathroom
and every morning
i select powders
and pencils to
present myself as alive
and every morning
i stare down a pack
of razor blades
half wishing i wasn’t
May 9, 2019
May 9, 2019 at 11:34 PM UTC
I use this fancy colors on my lips
To cover all these cuts
Wishing that they will all vanish
As I carve a smile on my lips
I use different powders
To cover up my flaws
The acnes due to not sleeping
Considering that anxiety pays another visit
I use concealer to conceal the dark circles
The eyes which are hurt from crying
Everyday and everynight nonstop
Asking for sympathy
I use eyeshadows to add color into my life
Different colors as for I am a pretender
Glitters to show that I stand out
Trying to belong in a group
Trying to hide my real identity
But who am I fooling?
It's no other than myself
Someone who cannot accept her flaws
Jun 12, 2017
Jun 12, 2017 at 1:02 PM UTC
The sun is up again, the cameras follow suit,
Another daily episode in your scripted life,
Wake up, make up, kiss it up to others,
You wonder, what shade shall it be today?
We live in a society of sycophants and hypocrites,
Deceit is the trending beauty brand in this generation,
To remain of importance on high status you need to follow the trend,
We've got the liars' lipstick, the eye service eyeshadows,
and most importantly, the cover-up concealer!
Come on, come on don't pout now,
Showing emotion is a presumably forbidden act,
Keep it all hidden, go grab your concealer,
Say you need to powder your nose,
don't forget to touch up that fake smile.
Finally home alone you can take it all off,
Don't worry, Mr. Mirror maybe honest but he doesn't judge,
Wipe away your concealer, unveiling that animalistic snarl,
Finally giving way to your true colours.
Mar 20, 2025
Mar 20, 2025 at 4:40 PM UTC
Kim (one of my BFF) brightened with inspiration, “Oooo! Send him a **** pic!”
“I’m NOT going to sext a guy out of the BLUE,” I grumbled, indignantly.
Kim turned to her phone, “No, No, of COURSE not.” She said as she texted.
“Come on” she said, as she pulled me off my chair and out the door. We raced over, on foot, to my friend Bili’s house (two houses away). We entered without knocking (as usual) and ran upstairs.
Bili lay on her stomach on her unmade bed, fiddling with her phone, ankles up and crossed but she twisted up to attention when we came in.
“What should we do first?” She said, as if there were a million things to do.
They set upon me and had my regular clothes off in a heartbeat. Like all makeovers, this had a prelapsarian purity - the ritual stripping down to blankness before rebuilding.
They quickly went through about half of Bili’s closet - selecting just the right combination of ****** and classy clothes designed to ******
They finally settled on a black slip under an ivory peignoir, stockings with garters and black strappy heels.
Kim twisted my hair up into a loose “Gibson Girl.”
“Hold still,” Bili said, as she grasped my chin and expertly blended red, gold and black glittery eyeshadows followed by lip liner and gloss. “This is just a quickie job,” she reminded me.
I stared at this strange version of myself in the vanity.
Kim frowned and looking around, she spread a pink scarf over the desk light to give the room a rosy glow. They went into studio mode - posing me in various ways from coquettish to bored lounging - suggesting expressions and taking endless pictures with my phone.
Finally, they were satisfied and handed me my phone.
“Shall we go through them?” Bili asked
“Naah,” I said, “I’ll go through ‘em and pick one - or two.”
Later, at home, I looked through them - I looked SO different - and I had to admit - **** even. But was that ME? I cringed, what if my mom saw these ****** Kardashian-like photos somewhere?
I never sent them. I thought I’d have to explain it to my girls.
“HA!” They laughed, “We KNEW you’d never use ‘em” Bili said, as Kim shook her head “Nope.”
“It was fun though!” We all agreed.
.
.
.
*NOTE: This is a pre-pandemic story from August 2019. I was 15 - the idea wasn’t to ****** this guy, it was to get his interest so he would ask me out 🙃*
Oct 5, 2021
Oct 5, 2021 at 8:56 PM UTC
It is 1985. I wake up from an afternoon nap, about to get ready for another night-out.
You see, I'm a typical distressed teenager just trying to make it out alive through music and art.
I take a shower while The Cure is blasting along the trickles of water.
I take my rollers, hairspray and flashy eyeshadows, glamming up for a night packed with new wave music, dancing with other teenagers who share my sentiment.
A night free of alcohol or any narcotics; the loud, booming music is enough to give me that high.
Oh, take me back to the era fit for my old soul.
Mar 25, 2018
Mar 25, 2018 at 9:26 PM UTC