"fickled" poems
My solitude comforts
Doubt, like a lover's lie.
His fickled fingered
Digits chokes my heart.
Second guessings elevated
to thirds, fifths, and sevenths.
Crippling and seducing
what ego and self reliance
I have, away.
My solitude that comforts
Doubt. Betrays me.
I have no solemnness
nor reassurance.
I can not banish Him
I never welcome Him
But yet He stays.
Feb 24, 2012
Feb 24, 2012 at 4:18 AM UTC
Sometimes I play the role of a good girl
I smile charmingly, an angel to the world
please and thank you are the secret words
to distract the wary enemy,from the harmless fragile little girl
By the time you trust me and leave me with your valuables
I've taken them all, sold to the highest bidder
I vanish from sight, ghastly figment of the imagination
and yet yu are taken
im beautiful
im sweet.
im unique
i make ur heart. skip a beat
u love the way the wind plays in my hair
highlighted hair of red and black dances in the air
u trust me
but i cant b trusted
because i lie and i steal
and i bribe and ****
but yet u trust me
and now im twisted with fickled feelings
should i theive and **** yu or jus leave yu be?
i have alrdy taken from yu almost everything that i need
and yet yu trust and love and is captured by beautiful me
the dates were lies!
the ********** were lies
it was jus *** and character. its how i live my life
trust noone and i wont get burned
**** em b4 they hurt me i wont b scorned
i wont b forced to walk and lie on hot coals
i wont be forced to rub myself in a blanket of fire and tears
feelinq misery because its wat my ex brought on me for years
i stole money from yu and u smiling.
i stole things from yu and ur still feelinq good
i guess why u feelinq good now though. its me
and i cant bear the thoughts of yu actually fallinq in love with me
wanting me with ur being
and ready to share ur world with me
its better for me to just poison with this sweet cup of tea
and yu thought i was so beautiful and sweet
the only unique thing i did was **** yu with tea
i literally made ur heart skip and then stop beating
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 2:22 AM UTC
Burn my trees with
Raging spring's desires
Toxic my river with
Flowing summer's sadness
Pollute my air with
Falling autumn's hopes
Hold my heart with
Freezing winter's loves
Cycle this year
Slow perserverance
A step at a time
Patience guidance
Demanding sacrifices
Thoughtful fickled flights
Fairy tale's stories
Deceiving future plights
Weighing both shoulders
Declining all offers
Not all goods
Guaranteed for auctions
Bidding the worst
Inviting trial lessons
For our life's
Full of surprises
Grinding salts from
Summer's sadness
Drizzling our plate of
Spring's desires
Infused balance reviving
Autumn's hopes
Undying believes in our
Winter's loves
Life is a cycle revolving mystery
Spinning the air that we're breathing
Falling those tears our eyes are crying
Rising with smiles from our cherish presents
Rewinding the clock for our future predicaments
Not realising we will always be
A full circle
©2014 Maman Screams
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 9:03 AM UTC
Fickled, fluttering of synths
Loop, lush, repeat
These fragments compliment my simple thoughts
My darting eyes craving to digest color and spectacle
I dance, obsess, whilst smoking my smoke as the separation between darkness and rejoice blur in an ever continuous ***** from below.
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 10:18 PM UTC
Black eyed Venus
your lascivious confessions
a voice of thorns
made the priest **** off
and for seconds he felt close to his god
i burn for you on this
iron jawed fire escape
crying on your thighs
as if landing on a dream
like a canon
that could take out the moon
feel me fickled fingers
I am potters clay
prom queen
*** goddess
luminous dusty winds
of the miraculous
everything is about death
even being born
clouds like asphalt flowers
and ancient monks
her mouth
wet like peaches and syrup
her beauty
an arrow in my throat
and the moon claims the light
i consume you a thousand times
before i die by your hand
oh so willing
tired of living in this dead house
of harsh destiny
palanquin of lust and blood
Jul 14, 2019
Jul 14, 2019 at 12:55 PM UTC
A Poem by Tate Morgan
God once thought to give me a choice
by offering the chance to choose
I stood bold stance, and took that chance
to ever walk within his shoes
He then offered me five choices
Fame, Love, Riches, Pleasure, and Death
I will have won, when it's all done
so I thought as I caught my breath
Then so it was I chose Pleasure
with the thought to enjoy my youth
To run with the boys, through life's joys
happiness was my only truth
Pleasures that youth delights upon
were disappointing, then grew cold
Sun setting play, that every day
trickled my fingers through, like gold
So once again he came to me
"surely wisdom has found you now"
"Choose your fate, before it's too late
as I said, this I will allow"
"Fame" I said as he smirked at me
"I wish to be a man renowned"
"To play life's game, that touts my name
as one deserving of the crown"
But Fame was a fickled master
that led to Envy, Greed and Lust
A shinning star and giant car
that in the end had turned to rust
Once more God offered me a choice
of the few things that still remain
"Besides birth, only one has worth
try using your heart, not your brain"
"Riches then" I did say to him
"surely they can cure all my pain"
"To do what I can as a man
by amassing what I may gain"
Wealth was not the answer I sought
left me with nothing of what I won
When in the end, I had no friend
to rejoice in what I had done
So one last time he gave me choice
"Love" I said is what I would like
"A woman's breast, where I may rest
perhaps even a little tyke"
The time it passed so quickly by
as I then sat beside her grave
A-wash in tears, for all those years
spent chasing dreams, that none could save
"My life has run it's course" I said
"your final choice is the worst yet"
"My love I lost, at such a cost
all that's left of me is regret"
He said "since you have not asked me
for advice on what you should do"
"I gave Death in a dying breath
to one more deserving than you!"
" Why won't you grant me rest" I said
"what more is there for me to learn"
" That a life of greed serves no need
live with old age, till it's your turn"
Tate
© 2012 Tate Morgan
Written April 21, 2012
All rights reserved
Jul 27, 2012
Jul 27, 2012 at 1:06 AM UTC
The soft grey wave
is trickling in over the
Rose Hill that never
Bows, scowls, weeps or thinks.
Never sinks, never drowns or howls.
I see you weeping at her feet.
You move over her and blanket
her breast.
The Rose Hill stays bold.
And the cold is nothing new to her.
Soft and grey, it crashes down.
Flooding her feet. Fickled and
Tampered, soft and grey , it recedes.
Rose, you are blushing.
It is all in your breast.
Death is in your chest and you bare it,
and lock it.
Corp cells circulate with mad cells
in your mad house breast.
Soft and grey it passes.
All that is left is a sky blue grin.
May 5, 2010
May 5, 2010 at 11:05 AM UTC
oh he’s giving me reasons
to write desperate love songs
to fill my notebooks with paragraphs
two and a half pages long
that don't shy away
from my hearts fickled tune.
oh baby, oh baby
you're making me swoon.
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 9:40 PM UTC
Reverberating random radio waves
waves of blank blasting bells
bells of unfounded fickled fear
fear in cumulous clouded clatter
clatter of sick ******* sounds
sounds like you yearn your years
years of finding fallen failure
failure to see second sight
sight of blinded brilliant brain
brain farts form filthy fumes
fumes of angry artistic air
air is thick with wasted words
words that remain regretfully wrong
wrong way to tell twisted tales
tales of virtual visual *****
New style of poem i am working on. In first verse, the first three words must start phonetically the same. In the other verses, it must be last three words. Hard to make sense by these rules, but it was fun.
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 9:33 AM UTC
You come home late in your short skirt
You're such a flirt, that's what really hurt
I pretend to be asleep as you enter
You see at this game I'm a beginner
In my universe you've become the center
I'm never sure what to say or do
When I get the blues
So I act a fool
Under your breath you start to giggle
You crawl in bed and start to wiggle
My emotions get so fickled
Inside I start to cringe
Cuz you need to make amends
Fast asleep I still pretend
Yet I guess you have your plan
And it's all that I can stand
When you whisper "You're my man!"
Don't wake me from this dream
It's not a bad dream
Hell I don't know what it means
First I start to waste away
Then you feel the need to play
Perhaps I'll figure life out someday...
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 10:28 AM UTC
Junior saw it Happen
we were lovers and we were friends
I felt in my heart that she was the one
I would have traveled the worlds ends
but what I heard fell on me like a ton
she was seen with a supposed friend of mine
holding hands and giving out sweet kisses
in the movie house down on 4th and Vine
I'm left with this bitter taste of dead fishes
Junior was walking by and he saw it all
he said he was shocked by this display
so he got on his phone and gave me a call
I was gonna ask her to go steady just today
guess I was the silly fool to think she was mine
love is such a folly guess girls can be so fickled
maybe I can get my brother to buy some wine
and me and Junior can go get ourselves pickled
but you can bet the day after I get straight
I will probably need me a real good slappin'
so I don't go and beg her for another date
maybe it was a mistake but Junior saw it happen
Gomer LePoet....
Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 11:57 AM UTC
I tattered your Yellow Wallpaper,
And trenched along your Groves.
To find that little special place,
Creeping amidst your Prose.
I scouted your Lands in search,
For what I found most dear.
But frankly I never found much,
That Gem was always there.
So as I walk my fickled Wood,
I realized something good.
I really never understood,
And I never really could.
Light Eddies And Venerable Elm,
Meant Everything.
Mar 11, 2020
Mar 11, 2020 at 2:32 PM UTC
Harry chased the shadows
around rooms without windows,
straw in his nose,
the bottle of Jack Daniels
on the moveable food tray.
the eye of the storm,
fierce, beautiful,
and like a hurricane
he came and went without meaning.
all he owned was time,
walk the days
like old newspapers
blowing down a deserted street.
Harry, wandered
the neon sky
on fire with wounded women
wrapped in night,
caught by the song
of the mermaids and sirens
who sweetly sang Odysseus
onto the rocks
so he chose to fly, soar
above the high wire trapeze
into cloudy silence,
grasping for tranquility
in a heartland were serenity
always slipped like water
through his cupped fingers.
the sky is a fickled lover
always just out of reach.
reckless grace,
he kissed the clouds.
Jun 4, 2024
Jun 4, 2024 at 11:17 PM UTC