"feeler" poems
it’s so frustrating because i know you wanted to be with me, on those days you drove almost an hour each way to see me and you kissed me so often and held me so tight and always pulled me closer and i could feel your eyes on me when i wasn’t looking, and we spent day after day like this, just being together and pretending that time could stand still, but at the same time, i feel like it was all just something for you to do while you were home, even though you deny it. i remember starting to tear up one afternoon with my head on your chest while you slept, because i knew it was just a matter of time till this was just a memory. i can’t picture you actually missing me, i can’t imagine you actually wishing i hadn’t said i was done with grey and in between. i feel like i’m so insignificant to you. like you have no feelings, like you couldn’t care less, this is just life, people come and go. and i know that, i know this is just life, and that people come and go, but it hurts that it’d never cross your mind to ask me to stay, that i was fun while i lasted, that you never wanted to make me yours. i’ll fade soon. i want to matter more to you. you’re a thinker, i’m a feeler, you hate that i’m so black and white. but i’m selfish and i want 3am texts that you can’t stop thinking about me and that you need to see me again soon. but that’s not who you are. and it’s unfair of me to want you to feel that way when you don’t. and it’s really okay, because if i extended my hand to you and you took it, i don’t think we would’ve gotten very far anyway. i loved being so close to you, but i’m excited to hold someone’s hand who doesn’t want to let go, to kiss someone who wants to kiss me forever, to not be anticipating an inevitable end, to be able to trust someone fully with my heart, to have someone that wants to hold it. and i don’t need that, i don’t need someone, i don’t need anyone. but if one day it’s what’s meant to be, i’ll let it be. i don’t want to be careless with my heart again. i don’t know why things happen the way they do, and i don’t regret you for a second, and i still think the world of you, but i’m too emotional and i fall too deep to give that much of myself again to someone who never asked for any of it in the first place.
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 3:37 PM UTC
i sit on the edge of the bench
accidentally bump knees, hear a grunt.
i want this hollow to be quenched
waiting silently for my turn with the blunt.
most of them use it as a social crutch
but i'm just here to fill my lungs.
not here for the hope of souls to touch
just desperate for the taste of ash on my tongue.
there's the stereotype of the stoner
cares about nothing, apt to start stealing.
but this self destruction comes from being a loner
and often the feeler of too many feelings.
so i'll sit on this bench surrounded by friends
who laugh like it can cure their sadness.
to me they're just the means to the end
sharers of smoke which allows me to vanish.
Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 2:55 PM UTC
I am supposed to be writing something
Because I am a writer
I’m supposed to be feeling something
Because I’m a feeler
A bad mood healer
A sunshine dealer
So wash your face and stare at the sun
And run, run run
A do run, run
It’s so much fun
Do what you want
Do what you want
Feel it erupt around you
Like a clown with a frown won’t do
Same with you
Not smiling baby
Light it up
Little darling
Live it up
Come on now
Stir the ***
Footsteps carry feet outside
And a body catching a ride
Don’t look now but there’s
A person inside
Walking that line
So many
Strangers in the night
Exchanging disregard
Invisibility works best
For some I guess
But I’d rather fly
Or would I?
- insert sigh -
Lay my head down
Close one eye
Keep one open
In case you try
To marry me in my sleep
Courting me in my dreams
Or so it seems
Do the work
While I’m awake
Look me in my whole face
You can’t replace
Or fake
Love
Feb 22, 2012
Feb 22, 2012 at 3:46 PM UTC
When I grew up my mom would cut coupons and scrounge for change in the sofa to buy me a chicken nugget happy meal McDonalds. She would cut coupons and would only buy nectarines if they were on sale. I grew up eating bologna sandwiches with kraft cheese slices and potato chips.
I think your mom had different priorities.
The man at Starbucks, told me that opposites attract and I think that is why were together. He told me a Intuitive Innovative Feeler. Does that mean that you are oblivious and emotionless *** I don't think so?
Lately I have been whining a lot. Whining about where we live, what we do, what we don't do, how you act, how you don't act, about how your mom wants us to water the brussels sprouts that no one likes and clean the toilets no one uses.
Sometimes I say things to hurt your feelings. Sometimes I mean it. I word them so that they are as hurtful as can be and you never react. Is it bad to want to make you cry? You test my sanity everyday, you break me every day, and here I am still trying to chip away at the facade, the make up you cover up with.
I think living in the mountains has taught me about all the things that I don't want to be. I don't want to be cut off, I don't want to be nice, I don't want to be liberal, I don't want to be conservative, I don't want to see the same people everyday, and I definitely don't want to spend eleven dollars on heirloom tomatoes.
Aug 11, 2013
Aug 11, 2013 at 11:00 AM UTC
*I’m a healer; not a feeler,
a traveler with loss of passion.
Pipe dreams are clear when day is gone,
then I spawn stories you can’t imagine.
I’m a wanderer; but I am not lost,
burn the human manufactures.
The sky is bleeding poor man’s gold,
drowning lunatic dream-catchers.
I’m a winter child; but my heart is fire,
it's a roaring black hole of ancient lullabies.
Follow the zebra through the midnight woods,
I saw glimpse of amnesia in its eyes.*
Apr 27, 2017
Apr 27, 2017 at 11:08 AM UTC
Ages ago I asked a dreamer
(A feeler and a magician, as well)
What love looked like on the inside
When those who are in it cannot tell
If it's tough enough, strong enough, red enough
(And of course, to be honest, is it true)
So that, if possible, we can avoid any pain
And the mistakes and the whatifs, too.
He told me:
It appears like a rainforest drizzle,
Somewhat expected, though still a blessing,
And its term is always indiscernible
Though in its haze, we still dance and sing.
And I said:
And what of the broken hearts,
Those who thought what they held was good:
They felt true things, they saw true light,
But they lost it all in the woods.
He said:
What they had was worthy and fine,
Though it seemed to bring nothing but pain,
For a shower can bring both cleansing and fire:
And we call it acid rain.
So I say:
Why question the love you are given?
Trying to name it, excuse it, or worse-
Instead, let it pass over you like a rainstorm,
Whether it floods, or if it's your first.
Breathe in the scent and inebriation,
Drown yourself in petrichor.
For when love hits you, it hits you hard,
And when it rains, it pours.
Dec 30, 2012
Dec 30, 2012 at 10:28 PM UTC
Once you fall in love with
An artist, an empath,
A writer, a musician,
A feeler, a healer,
A giver, a lover,
There is no going back
To an ordinary life.
Jun 23, 2020
Jun 23, 2020 at 2:44 PM UTC
All things bright
Carved straight paths
So that in them all might
Can't be unseen,
The Creator's patented light
The woods stood with their integrity
But bends and sways along the way
When He breathes life and serenity
Built a stairway for the rock bottom and astray
The grass and their blade
Forests and her glade
A sanctuary founded in shade
(Sunshine cried an uproar hue)
Will that cyclamen grow
Prepared a table where we sow
The Great Anduin flow
(Sunshine made it glow a golden fruit)
All things bright
Knit the barks in endless patterns
Consume our restlessness
A hundred prophets took shelter in Your caverns
Lead me into still waters,
And there me be confined
In Your pastures I am but a feeler
So I may be undone and defined
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 11:12 AM UTC
Within the intense buzzing of this draft city
I see nothing written on the faces of children, men, and women. In books,
on the television,
and in every conversation
It's an endless black hole leading to God knows where-
and it's calling my name.
He jams to rock n roll and probes technology with his long fingers.
His eyes tell a story
as his words paint him sunglasses.
Hope's his worst enemy and
longing's his middle name but he'll have you believe it's all guns
and sly comments.
God loves him and so do I
but he's not ones for happy endings.
From the cracks of the sidewalk, I see the world
in snippets and clips,
my reality pieced together.
God shouted from the heavens once
"You are what you are and I am what I am
Nothing else matters, Feeler."
I don't much talk to God these days
when he's in his office. I saw Him at the hospital the other day
and walked the other direction.
Too late to right the wrongs,
close the gaps and heal the wounds. For every occasion
I'll be ready for a disaster.
Bury the past if it does no good
and ignore the self-righteous.
The after life is no place for dead trees.
In a suit of grace and sweet memories, my angle of death says hello
at the end of my bed every night.
Within my heart are answers
to his ancient questions
and within my eyes are
his fears. Back and forth he strides,
staring relentlessly
searching his conscience for answers. Chasing the cool.
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 1:03 AM UTC
there is no color for regret
this fist of hindsight clenched in my stomach
sitting heavy, firm and uneasy
i can't paint over this lingering, wholesome sorrow
splashed in my lamentable eyes
the agony is blind and cannot feel its way out of this dark corridor
the uneasiness is more real than the feeler
repentance is stuck in my teeth and gnaws at my tongue
discomfort catches its fingernails on the chalkboard recesses of the past
regret
regret
the neon open sign flickers and its fumes are toxic
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 4:38 AM UTC
I don't always feel loved.
Someone can tell me how much they love me for a few months, and I'll feel it,
But as soon as that person slows down on saying it, I don't feel the love anymore.
Maybe it's just me...
I don't know.
And then I lash out.
And then they wonder why I'm so mean and such a *****
I can't help it.
Perhaps that's me defending my heart from another let down.
I don't know...
And when I lash out, I hurt them badly.
So badly that I fear I've lost them forever.
But they still stay.
And then they love me harder.
But then I feel it fade again..
What is it about me?
Do I repel you so?
Is the fact that I'm such a Feeler so dreadful?
Sometimes I don't feel loved at all.
Because I've been a victim of so much bullying through the years.
How many years?
9 years.
I'm only 18 now, and still, I'm a victim.
No one should be a victim of bullying.
And I'm hoping that when I leave school at the end of this year, all the hatred will detach itself from me. All the bullying will go.
I'm sorry that I lash out.
It's the only way I know how to cope lately.
I've been let down so much.
Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 3:55 PM UTC
Last sunday, we go videoke.
Kaming unom, grabe'g panganta.
Naay nice ug tingog, naay okay ra,
naay wala gyud sa tono, naay nag sabay-sabay ra,
ug naay feeler gyud kaayo nga singer siya.
Niabot ang time, naka feel na mig uhaw.
Ni offer ang isa, isa ka bucket ambot ug unsa.
TOK TOK TOK ayay naa na ang gihulat,
tambal sa uhaw gipatong sa lamesa.
PAK! SMIRNOFF ANG GIDALA!
Kami nagpadayon ug kanta,
kachada sa pamati, sa ilimnong ma'lami.
Niabot ang last nga kanta,
Obladi, Oblada, tala na mamauli na ta.
Nihapit's balutan, mao na po'y gitirada.
Nanglingkod kadjot sa seawall,
nagpahangin gamay usa musakay.
Nipara mig cab kay hapit na alas dose,
sa rural basin mabiyaan mi.
Wa na gibyaan gyud, maygani naay super 5, pero tag 50 gyud.
Kami naabot sa tagsa-tagsang panimalay,
wow kalami sa akuang katulog bai.
Pagmata nako, nganong init kaayo ko?
Wa ko kasabot sa akuang gibati, gitugnaw ko pag ayo.
Yati, ngano man ni? Nag inom man unta kog vitamin C.
Pagka uran2 naa koy gi share sa fb,
nag react akuang miga kay sgalain pud daw iya ginhawa.
Taod-taod nag my day ang isa, gi dextrose kay gihilantan sab siya.
Nag text kos isa pa, kung ga daot pud siya.
"OO" mao na iyang reply,
*** why kami gyud upat dai?
Ang isa silingan ra namo, wala may gibati.
So, isa nalang kulang, akua gitawagan.
Wala mitubag, akuang manghod iyang gi chatan.
"Yes dai gihilantan pud siya", mao nay reply.
Wala nay lain, ang SMIRNOFF mao jud akuang pasanginlan!
Kaming lima baling yarok, sa smirnoff nga mabugnaw.
Ang isa wala nag mind kay nagsaad di gyud siya mo inom.
Mao toy amuang gidangatan, gipang ubo, sip'on ug gihilantan.
Grabe, unsay naa adtong smirnoff nila?
Ngano kaming lima ang naapektohan?
Oct 10, 2019
Oct 10, 2019 at 9:20 PM UTC
Far, far afield--the averages of distances
are sought after.
Seer, hearer, feeler likened to what feet
fail now...as a body parodies its mind
unknowingly.
This chased relationship... headless chicken's
nocturne.
Konstantinos Mark
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 11:43 PM UTC
Stuttering, muttering, fluttering
falling
like
a
****** woman
for being a thinker, a feeler, a knower, a croucher in the shadows
she gets ****** forever alone
a planet rotating without a sun.
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 12:58 AM UTC
Calli the feeler,
And she does it best
Carmen is glitter in a blackout dress
Calli the artist,
Stuck wild in love
Carmen, the girl in all the rock songs
Calli the painter,
Writing on walls
Laughs in the mirror and the bathroom stall
Carmen the switchblade,
Sweet in satin and glass
In the darkest corner doin somethin bad
Calli the lover
Carmen doesn't care
Both on the phone in their underwear
Calli in purple
And rings on her toes
Amber eyes in the window and momma's model robe
Carmen the kisser who gets the deed done
I am them, we are one
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 4:50 AM UTC
a poet is a silent screamer
silent feeler, silent doer
thinking, tinking, toying brains
reveals life through an expulsion
of ink on paper
with a mind whose thoughts
trickle down like racing raindrops on a car window
a painter of words on a heart-canvas
dreamer of the unreachable
unrequitable
unforgotten.
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 3:45 PM UTC
I'm sorry for freaking out yesterday.
I just never have had my heartbroken before.
I think the hardest part about this **** is that I see you ******* everywhere.
Your smile is captured in the moon and the way your lips glisten in its light are like stars.
Your hair smells like rain an flows like the waterfalls that come after the storm!
Your eyes drown the sun in oceans but it still burns with just as much intensity!
Your laughter matches the birds song every morning and I always think something's funny but nothing is because when I realize it's not you
I shoo the birds away....
You broke my ******* heart
But that's okay.
That's okay
Cause this is the first time and it sure as hell won't be the last!
So while it's in all these pieces, I'm giving them away like oprah because YOU GET A PIECE
YOU GET A PIECE
YOU GET A PIECE
WE ALL GET A PIECE
because I'm a lover and there's enough to go round
I'm a protector
So you know you'll be safe and sound
I'm a feeler so you know I'm not ******* around
I'm ******* this town cause I'm done with all of this clowning around
Be still
Stay there
Don't you dare move
Cause I'm about to walk away
And I want you to watch
Because as hard as it is for me
And as easy as it was for you
You're the one that's missing the **** out.
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 4:19 PM UTC
my heart is so tired
I'm losing my voice
and bleeding out
kindness is a target for evil
disheartening doesn't begin to define this ache in my chest
maybe this is how it felt when they drove the nails into Jesus's hands
the only things that keep me breathing
are full of toxins
unfortunately, there are no warning signs of toxins that provide the fix I seek.
my manifesto is to mean what I say
do what I promise
more importantly it is to love.
I've learned that love is the ultimate sacrifice.
this world needs those of us who feel deeply and communicate effectively.
a "friend" doesn't cut ties over something petty
a lover doesn't leave you because something is alleged to be true.
as a feeler, this will make sense to you.
if you are not comprehending this or not feeling a tug in your chest, go home, lay down and think about times in your life when you felt overlooked. really go back to that moment and feel it.
when you feel it, now know that other person is feeling that because of your actions.
love & art 1991,
henk holveck
Dec 5, 2017
Dec 5, 2017 at 10:14 AM UTC
In Memory of My Beginning
We of fitter gun were harassed in our youth by the file, the use of which is an art. It’s not just rubbing the file back and forth. Every stroke should count and move you one step closer to a smooth, polished finish without gouges or abrasion marks. Just like growing up really; like life. Hence:
At Arborfield, remember where we learned to use a file
On a wicked lump of mild steel they gave us for our own?
Reduce its size they told us, and that without a smile.
So we set-to with hands that ached, stiff fingers and a groan.
Two inches square it had to be within a 'thou' or two.
Push fitted through an aperture, eight differing ways all told.
And by miracle (craft) that metal was transformed by me and you
With a Four Inch smooth and lots of chalk, and even though now old
I recall as though I were still there, bent over at the bench, and still
Unsure of what my life might be, what even I should dare
With this feeler gauge and set square, scraper, tap and drill,
The which to shape this wicked lump into the perfect square.
The perfect square, what a hope; that shape for which we then aspired.
Compelled, it's true reluctantly at times but which by none the less
Were laid foundations for the lives we've subsequently had;
And the which by some admired.
Mar 8, 2019
Mar 8, 2019 at 7:28 PM UTC
There were words wilting on his tongue
and I could smell them from across
the bed, between the sheets —
wrapping his vowels between my thighs
and smoldering in every consonant.
I could not breathe for I was gulping
every muted word, thought, image;
his choking lips depicting dying needs.
And I began to soak the mattress,
screaming into pillows while the sun
set between our waists —
darkening my curves and shading his face.
I no longer smelled him in the quiet,
no longer reached for static.
Instead I kneaded his language
into my taste; until I spoke
for him.
Aug 22, 2012
Aug 22, 2012 at 10:01 PM UTC
I wish I was stupid
That I didn’t notice all the pain around me
That I was not a keen observer and deep feeler
I wish that I had a low IQ like broccoli
Laying in the hospital bed, a vegetable
My parents deciding when to pull the plug, “At least he will go to heaven.” They might say
I wish I had the stomach to point to a star in the sky or pick up a grain of sand from the shore and believe that the one in infinity chance was good enough. “I am right. This will save us. It is the best star, the best grain of sand. Truer than all the others. I believe. Improbability be ******
I wish things were simple
That I did not feel special, or exempt from the rules of reality
And that I could sleep without nightmares and live without retreating to daydreams.
I wish I was not a cynic
And a pessimist
That I could still hold onto hope
And find beauty even in the harshness and pain
I wish that my faith could be stronger
My belief could be surer
I wish I could not feel the way I do
That I could know love
And find happiness
And accept myself how I am
I wish things would resolve
But like this poem…
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 3:39 AM UTC
I wish that i could stop dreaming because in the end my friend i wake up screaming. Blind and unseeing i arise, wide eyed with my voice flying from my throat. you all know that i have nightmares, or if u dont you dont care. Scribbles from my pen reveal that to feel one must live and to live one must lie awake at night, free to think with insanity flowing through his veins. Attacking sanity because sanity is a cage that enrages me. The thinker , the feeler, the hoper, the dreamer. In all sanity one is far from reality. A wise man once said to me "things are not what they seem". The silent are screaming the dreaming are waking, the fallen are flying, the living are dying, and still we cant see that we are blind to the truth. I was blind to the truth but now death is dead to me.
Mar 8, 2012
Mar 8, 2012 at 7:08 PM UTC
I could take a
simple substance,
I admit, there's not much to it;
Receive a prescription,
Discard of inner prohibition,
succumb to my condition.
But that's your desire,
to extinguish my fire;
ain't gonna happen
any time soon,
I'd rather battle all
morning and noon.
I thought you knew that
these things take time,
Not 12 months, not 24,
Not 48, not 96,
but that don't matter;
Deep down I know,
no matter the rain,
no matter the heavy
downpour of pain,
I'll persist.
Don't need no pill to
be my pain killer,
You can't numb
a deep feeler;
Have I not shown you
I'm a high achiever?
A pill won't make life
a fairer dealer.
Love, Anti.
Oct 20, 2016
Oct 20, 2016 at 8:59 AM UTC
You know that complicating feeling?
When you can't say what you mean to say,
and now I'm staring to the ceiling.
That split second on replay.
Don't you know I secretly wondered
and I hoped that you would see through me?
I might say you're a feeler,
But what I mean is we could be together.
I might say "are you so sure?"
But what I mean is we should think 'forever'.
In this confusion
is a confession
close your ears, LISTEN WITH YOUR HEART.
And this time,
You have to read between the lines.
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 2:01 PM UTC
A whole entire human
A feeler of pain
A fighter of battles of the mind
A warrior
An owner of a heart, heartbeat, the kind you notice
A closeted non-binary
A mover, A dancer
A thinker of thoughts
A haver of things
A learner
An occupant of my home
A difference in someone's life
A feeler of emotions
A knower of truth
A heartbeat, a heart strain
that catches your attention
A chooser of paths
Incomplete
Mar 26, 2017
Mar 26, 2017 at 12:27 AM UTC