"gleamy" poems
There is pleasure's sigh, there is despair's sigh,
Adorned with a sweet smile or a sour cry,
Screaming both in the night with no reply,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.
All places of Tokyo change at night,
Streets are flowing rivers of gleamy light,
Lit-neon signs glowing at every sight,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.
More footsteps have been set in these lit-streets,
Than the words have been said in these lit-streets,
Or the numbers of debt in these lit-streets,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.
Glamorous in the busy night like pearls,
Hostess girls show to men a sight like pearls,
With smiles and teeth who're white like pearls,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.
Girls who're shining like jewels are adored,
Who quickly by empty wallets get bored,
By the men who these sweet gems can afford,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.
As long as bars shine with signs of neon,
The crowds in this city are going on,
Until they are put out at times of dawn,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.
Lights are reflected as blurs in each pool,
Who distort the sights like the alcohol,
Who is served in passionate bars as cool,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.
Water's flowing in the water business,
Who's to the old days a reminiscences,
Where the thin rules of the night are boundless,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.
Unlike the tradition of the flower,
Here they paint faces to take a powder,
And then embrace the ones with much power,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.
The alcohol is poured down like the rain.
How hide drunkenness from whiskey and champagne,
They put powders on the face to look plain,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.
Adored, desired and loved is every star,
Who strolls around or drinks in every bar,
By each man with a luxuriant car,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.
Mâhî's still to Tokyo a stranger,
Both to its pleasure and to its danger,
Where the eyes at night only see a blur,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.
Mar 21, 2017
Mar 21, 2017 at 6:43 AM UTC
Little little gleamy flower
Blue or purple , where to find
To forget or to remember
A feeling recalled from solid ground
Little little gleamy flower
Starts it all on a sunny day
Through the wind and those squeezing beams
Grows a seed of an endless dream
Little little gleamy flower
Stays and strong through all the fight
Where sorrow rises from underneath
Found every trace of laughters and joy
Little little gleamy flower
Pure and sweet like those morning dews
Always sings the song of love
Even rain or within darkness
Little little gleamy flower
All this time , never been alone
To be true or be unfaithful
It’s goodbye that can’t be told
Little little gleamy flower
Don’t hold tears to what is dear
Not the end , but a new beginning
See the world and fly through the sky
Little little pretty flower
Together and ever be unchanged
Promise me under stars and moon
Never forget those precious days
Little little pretty flower
Remember this and never cry
All the joy , heartbreak and smiles
Be the song that shines through your heart.
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 12:35 PM UTC
Life is a light bulb.
We begin this life as children,
fresh out of the box,
faithful that the light will always shine.
Smiling faces are illuminated
with careless smiles.
As we age,
the flawless glass embarks on a journey
to dusty, ***** darkness.
Flickering on again, off again.
Flicker, flicker, flicker.
The more we grow,
the dimmer life becomes.
Gleamy turns to gloomy.
Bright ideas fade into obscurity.
Slowly but surely it begins to fade to grey.
The warmth gradually dissolves.
We desperately, frantically search for
the childish light we once held,
and shared to mightily with the world.
We soon realize,
there is no more light to be shared.
Flicker, flicker, flicker.
Suddenly,
All too suddenly. . .
The bulb burns out.
We are left in the cold.
My life is a light bulb
and it's flickering away.
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 3:18 PM UTC
That grin
enviably free of worry
should be an advertisement
for the way things ought to be.
Effusive innocence
casts itself from a
twenty year old snapshot
like juice from a fatted orange
pierced by a thumb
spitting jealous longing
on people who wear pants
giving anything in trade to
erase what they know
about growing up
to sit next to a
gleamy eyed kid
making **** prints in the earth
proudly touting a ***** nose and
Sedona sand on his Underoos.
Must we ever leave there
the paradise of naivete'
devoid of threat
absent of concern
universe of
daddy-can-whip-anyone?
Enemies do not exist
because we have not yet
learned hate.
Joy is first instinct
until we grow into fear.
The world is fig leafs and beauty
before a cynical serpent
has his way with us.
A father begs his son
"STAY THERE! STAY THERE!"
Protection is lost
outside the frame.
There's no recourse
for growing up.
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 12:10 AM UTC
trust in the shape of a key,
good god how corny is that?
satisfactorily nonsensical, a Pharisee phrase,
so offal illogical,
it borders on the poetically reprehensible
who has time to state this stuff,
pretend it is worthy of something respectful,
work it into a Nobel Prize awarded script,
nominated for "really bad ****
an ordinary hardware key, brass gleamy,
and the squealing grinding noise
heard while a blank progenitor is reimagined,
so so annoyingly ludicrous in this century
of plastic replicators but the noise,
comfortably familiar as a sound of
things being made
run thumb test over the cuts,
as if your thumb should know
what order the points and bevels,
the toothy gap spaces should be,
the correct disorderly order of the teeth
there are very few locks on a farm;
indeed the front door key
has not
been seen
in many a year
what's that you ask?
ok ok - I get it - in harvest time
it is early to bed and earlier to rise,
conclude this mystery key,
red winter wheat needs laying down,
stop your word seeds germinating
there may be few locks on a farm,
everything rusts so quickly anyway,
but stop to comprehend just how many locks
the human body employs -
at least 613,
maybe many more,
and only one master
for them all
a shiny gleamy thing,
strangely,
its cuts and grooves seem to
spell a word
trust
go figure
1:05am in the city
Sep 28, 2017
Sep 28, 2017 at 1:18 AM UTC
ashen wasteland
healed by dew
pulses, trembles
birthed anew
Mother beating
midnight drum
lily, crocus
cherry, plum
yearling stumble
hatchling drop
grizzly bumble
salmon flop
coyote howl
jackal bay
gleamy-eyed
they stalk their prey
brutal jaws
on tawny throat
****** tears
in tawny coat
feign o possum
flee o hare
saffron, saltbush
tulip, tare
Mother sows,
human reaps,
forward still
the forest creeps
hack and slash
slash and burn
maple, mayfly
buckthorn, fern
chipmunk gather
raccoon store
silence on
the barren moor
groundhog slumber
grizzly snore
knocking on
the Old Man's door
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 8:16 PM UTC
Little golden haired girl that skips down wooden stairs,
Her pigtails swing in the air as she lands on the sidewalk
Where I used to bury acrid smolders of my cigarette sticks
And laugh with the rabbit toothed woman who coughed too much.
I breathed smoke from her yellow teeth but now the girl,
With rosy cheeks and beady eyes jumps over puddles in yellow boots
She glances with red cheeks and falls face first into brown muck,
To be held up by a man who walks, talks and looks
Nothing like me.
In the cold nights of winter the girl, the woman and the man
Melt themselves in each other’s warmth, I stand alone
Behind their window rubbing my red chest,
Flirt with myself to knock, to go inside
and slice the apple pie and slurp the eggnog.
My fingers immobile, short fragile icicles
But the black beady eyes pierce through pane,
A wide smile with missing teeth calls out
To hold a gaze through watering eyes.
They see her as an old photograph
Of the woman who would run her fingers
through knots of hair as I cried on her lap.
I press frozen hands against the glass,
Peer into flickers of those dark gleamy eyes
And see the mother and daughter walk on sand
with naked feet
and me,
hand in hand.
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 8:32 PM UTC
I wish I wish
I was so much
Younger, much taller and richer
And possessed all
Worldly possession
But only to attract you
For they are nothing
Nor either can they be seen
When stood next to
And within the glare
That shines around you
I wish I new
What lied behind
The sheen of those
Gleamy green eyes
That foster jealousy in
The grasses which
Coat the gardens of Eden
You cover me with
Cream , chocolate ice cream
With your Irish lilt
Feathers on my senses
Forgive me
For my eyes intrude
And powerless I be
But at the same time so strong
When I am filled with
My Love for you
Show me your enemy
Ghengis Khan, Godzilla
I will blow them away
As you take my breath away
With just a look
I melt into a brook
Don't know where I am
But,
it,
Sure feels good
In my love for you
But let my wishes live unfulfilled
For I barely can hold a stare
So why would be so bold and dare
But please do not panic
For my wanting
I expect nothing
Nothing more can you give
For you have already given
In each and every single smile
Far more than I could ever return
And my real and simple wish
Surely now
I can not have one
Now I have had the honor
To meet
Such a beauty
As YOU
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 3:15 AM UTC
The neon nights did shine again,
At the place of Tokyo, really bright.
The girls did gleam with beautiful clothes,
The guys did glow with aflame fashion.
There were many mazes to be found at midnight,
In the city streets, sightly here.
''Midnight Pretenders'' was on tonight,
Breezing and blooming in the bright streets.
The pinky pearly view paced as
Raindrops as diamonds dancing in lights,
And fell fairly upon the shoes
Of gleamy girls glowing and adorned
With ribbons red and rosy hues.
Nobody at night slept, at the afternoon
Everyone woke up again after
Days of dozing off, and at dawn
They went away, towards their beds.
Jun 28, 2017
Jun 28, 2017 at 5:59 AM UTC
My quivering fingers dance on the ivory of piano
You come swirling in front me
Dressed in white
My angel of light
I'm no longer scared of the long night
You gently kiss my forehead
I forget about everything but the gleam of love in your eyes
With your essence by my side, I'll once again rise
No more tears and no more silent cries
We'll live a happily ever after in every life
- Zahra Sherazie
Jul 2, 2018
Jul 2, 2018 at 2:13 PM UTC
so here I am, here I go.
here I put my bottom, base
on this shiny, gleamy surface.
my face gleaming with joy.
sitting, I can’t help but babble
about how every movement moves a bubble,
and how my wetness combines with
the wet and cold from underneath.
how about a nap, I ask?
how about some deserved rest?
it seems like an easy task,
I don’t mind a random pest.
laying down I feel the caress
of the cold and liquid hand.
hugging me down, I am flawless
in my sparkly pose to mend
my sleeping missed. all went
good so far, I’m thinking.
I’ll close my eyes for a wee bit.
after sundown I get up.
to sit some more, wet in my lap
enjoying my portion of sunshine knit
by those warm golden hands of her -
the almost-sleeping beauty curved.
caress me more while you can,
in the night I’ll entertain my man
the colder, bolder, plumpy gent
who’ll make wet more cold. I can
get ready to meet him, instead
more sitting there, rather than
unnecessary lifting the good-for-nothing clothes.
already having gone through these roads
I’ll lose my covers anyhow.
now ********** to wow
the silver moonlight. after all will be over
he hands me down a four-leafed clover,
laughing how good a joke that always is -
knowing where my ***** sat and sits.
I’ll smile politely and nod
understanding time to cover myself, not
anymore waiting to be in the spotlight.
reaching a new low in such height,
indecisive about what to do, I’ll choose
not to choose. sitting in wet, red,
I don’t lose.
Oct 12, 2020
Oct 12, 2020 at 11:12 AM UTC
She is a moon upon the nights of cities,
Who glows and gives the gleamy lights of cities.
The 8-bit sounds do sing and neon-kanji
Is written, showing pretty sights of cities.
Jun 16, 2017
Jun 16, 2017 at 4:59 AM UTC
You charmed me with your
words,
touch,
and smile
You lift me up with your
gleamy eyes,
open arms,
and pure heart
You moved me with your
graceful soul,
affection,
and kind intentions
You are the one I love, truly
Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 6:18 AM UTC
Parched lips sip at the rejoice of true love
Sheltering unto the embarks of greatness;
A beautiful journey- oblivious to heartbreak.
Intrigued by gleamy eyes, wet from crying-
Tears for hoax love,
The heart shatters at the sight of each tear drop
One kiss my dear and all pain shall go away.
There was something about the way he smiled
The way his body flexed with each move,
O how divine!
But it wasn't just his body i liked, it was his soul
Or atleast that's what i thought too.
Took me long to know of his deceitful facade;
And his false love
He was not what he claimed to be
He was but a monster in disguise, a true depiction of what we call a casanova.
Jun 9, 2019
Jun 9, 2019 at 11:09 AM UTC
A tune of future funk does play,
Perhaps from a dreamy city.
A soft, a smooth voice does narrate,
Perhaps bout a gleamy city.
I do hear stories about much:
Before my eyes I see the lanes,
The cute couples walking around,
The neon-lights and falling rains.
Jul 8, 2017
Jul 8, 2017 at 1:38 PM UTC
Not much have I narrated this story,
Who's about glee and about worry.
I became quiet after seeing her,
This bluesy woe; o soul, this does vary.
We are the nightingales of this garden,
We are the poets, wielding poetry.
This crafted work is veiling prejudice,
I don't see the hands crafting embroidery.
Sometimes a love, sometimes a description,
Mâhî's drawing a gleamy gallery.
Jul 20, 2017
Jul 20, 2017 at 9:34 AM UTC
A gleamy shell of the ocean,
She is at day and the night.
Jul 16, 2017
Jul 16, 2017 at 7:33 AM UTC
Your language is dreamy
And your thoughts are gleamy
But why should I read them
Might my eyes fall upon some more desirable emblem?
No I read another poem
For they are all handsome
And I might get a crumb
From those who know how to write a poem.
Mar 30, 2020
Mar 30, 2020 at 12:10 PM UTC
I had a dream this winter
Of ****** leaves and of ochre branches,
Of sprout twigs and of lakeside lunches
Of the resplendent canopies, of the infinite sleepless nights,
Switching through warm vivid reveries
And the seeping soulful flickering brights
Of my yellow scattered image in the yellow gleamy pond
Of the fluttering up of my wavy white blonde
Of the sun tanned Jack, of his sea-green eyes
Deep when he sees me, deadly when he turns back
His palms are white, mixed with red and green,
He fondles my forehead with his spindly long fingers
This lissome Jack can never feel like a dwam
As he touches me with all his heart
The enigmatic love that dribbles down my skin
That lingers with me, even after I stir.
He trails again to far-off heavenly lands,
To the Sun, the Stars and the hurrying horizons
Hastily taking my olive hands,
He pulls me up, our hearts pressed on us
Suddenly the skyline fades, the seas turn black
I can’t see Jack, his Prussian eyes now black
I open my eyes and I am back in my dark icy dwell
Cold as I was, cold again I am
Ripped away from Jack, my shine, my light
Who I was with, every fragment of this frigid wintry night.
Jan 19, 2019
Jan 19, 2019 at 12:55 AM UTC
A lover boy, Am I.
Yes would be the answer, maybe
A Chimp , a **** Am I
For I am so full of love, may be
Only the thing I remember is not the fragrances of flowers,
Not the breeze of the sky but the way you adore them..
Gleamy eyes of yours have my heart, that is sure.
In my dreams..I find you always, that is sure
Are you a reality ?? may be.
Jan 16, 2025
Jan 16, 2025 at 2:08 AM UTC