"glosses" poems
You two .....you both it cost you but for one of you .....it cost you the make-up mascaras and the lip-glosses for you to be glamouras ....it cost you bore-tie and suit to match your body with the shining shoes then we call you a gentle and we call you the lady but we see the price ......
How much does your personality cost ,how long and far would you make it priceless ......how much does it cost ...your body have price and it cost like the bible says but how much does your personality ......you two ......you both ...make your personality to have a price ...
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 2:46 PM UTC
Texas early night sky
nightstands
like deserted islands
next to rumpled bed
fake hibiscus in bloom
clipped onto curtains
favorite lip glosses
cradled in basket
on vanity sink
sparkly bead earrings
displayed in
see-through pockets
on stuffed closet door
silken blouse draped
on spare chair
awaiting an outing
candy wind hibiscus
sways in the breeze
a playground for lizards
my face
when I realize
you are looking at me
handsome man
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 1:55 PM UTC
WHERE dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water-rats;
There we've hid our faery vats,
Full of berries
And of reddest stolen chetries.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With afacry, hand in hand,
For the world's morefull of weeping than you
can understand.
Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim grey sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances,
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And is anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's morefully of weeping than you
can understand.}
Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.
Come away, O human child!
To to waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For to world's morefully of weeping than you
can understand.
Away with us he's going,
The solemn-eyed:
He'll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal-chest.
For be comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
from a world more full of weeping than you
can understand.
2.2k
beauty is not defined by
the colors of pigment you brush onto your skin
to hide what you believe are flaws.
its not defined by the fibers you glue onto
your eye lids.
nor the creams and glosses you swipe upon your lips.
beauty is not defined by the skin tones
that rest on top of your bones,
or what colors of silk lay upon your head.
beauty lies peacefully within the soul, mind, and spirit.
you are beautiful.
Mar 22, 2019
Mar 22, 2019 at 11:58 AM UTC
She used to trace her eyes with a path of black
I assumed it was to grab attention
She would perfectly fill in her acne scars’ gaps
Maybe it was to be the best addition
Barbie dolls, and Maybelline models
would make her feel inferior
but between the shadows, glosses and makeup bottles
She’s forgotten her natural exterior
The beauty flows, and young age glows
No filter is needed
Hashtag “woe” nobody knows
but she feels less conceited
Caked on lies attracted some guys
and made her act a certain way
she has those perfect laugh lines around her eyes
that will make anybody’s day naturally okay
perfect imperfections, aren’t meant to be hidden
makeup’s deceptions, needs to be permanently forbidden
She was born with a face that describes her
Flawless, nothing can replace what is her
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 11:45 PM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, don't pretend the innocence when you know that evidence:]
you know I'm a forest a wild sent rule crucial
scars abandoned on attached feels I call brutal
on you a ceiling too high to reach
far from the abnormals we share we teach
my sick matches your sick
your sick matches mine
it collides it ticks
burrowed from the glares of a daemon monster flare
been sold to the harsh heads
been kept at stake
the stark of shame
glosses of unhealthy addiction of reigns
no one knows nor understands us our meaning
things we used years to strive hard to achieving
rotten wolves as in our animalistic
in search of prey
a hellish nature fevered burning hate of the realistic
remind my mental
were owned by devils
not sentiments not rental
pretend the innocence when the obvious seeps
let go of the hold to grip on the recklessness that creeps
bent beats of unmeasured clefts but for the darker not the tender
a dominant number on the silent hypnotizing hummer
i ravish skins when control is no more
its hunger
shot on veins killed
****** out of blood
same as ecstasy
same as adrenaline
still racing on a flood
------ravenfeels
Apr 1, 2021
Apr 1, 2021 at 3:58 PM UTC
bitter air pours through cracked windows at sixty miles per hour
dashboards turn to focal points turn to the only sight i'll keep from these days
and the nighttime pitch black glosses over moments of eyes glazed
the week's exhaustion turns each of us up, empty and dour
we work through our days and leave the waking hours to devour
sprawled over small couches and cold basement floors, always dazed
we come alive to mood music and greasy food at odd hours, forever unfazed
we make each spontaneous saturday night, uniquely and quietly ours
the clock in the dash reckons 3:46am in a thin, strobing green
he blinks hard, weary eyes and overworked body, fighting against the morning
and the neon signs of the little old marketplaces, oh, how they sing
we wire ourselves and electrify our moments with caffeine
we crash and burn and forget every night, ignoring our own warnings
and the sleepless sacrifices for each other's wonder, oh, the upswing.
Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 7:59 PM UTC
Polish
by Michael R. Burch
Your fingers end in talons—
the ones you trim to hide
the predator inside.
Ten thousand creatures sacrificed;
but really, what’s the loss?
Apply a splash of gloss.
You picked the perfect color
to mirror nature’s law:
red, like tooth and claw.
I thought about titling or subtitling this one “A mini-ode to manicure” but thought better of it. Please note that this poem is not about female predators but the way the human race “glosses over” its predatory nature. We may appear to be “civilized” but what are we doing to the planet and its other inhabitants? Keywords/Tags: polish, nails, talons, claws, predator, gloss, loss, red, tooth, claw, pollution, climate change, global warming, mass extinction, genocide
Apr 1, 2020
Apr 1, 2020 at 3:58 AM UTC
Where dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water rats;
There we’ve hid our faery vats,
Full of berrys
And of reddest stolen cherries.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.
Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim gray sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.
Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.
Away with us he’s going,
The solemn-eyed:
He’ll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal chest.
For he comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than he can understand.
Feb 4, 2017
Feb 4, 2017 at 7:09 PM UTC
Tell me please
does the grey granite faced
northern heather scarp
or the smooth enchanting
Carrara marble cherub
move you to awe?
Does nature only
wintered weathered
sheer and simple
eclipse the man made
man handled
alabaster angel?
Bleak beauty
Tell me my friend
does your head turn
as the high cheek-boned
short haired
practical passes
a flash of scarlet
lipped?
Or do you arrest
as a foundation creation
glosses across your horizon
loping on heels and too knowing?
Bleak Beauty
I must ask you
my brother
When you cause to sleep
does your angel
appear
and does
the gentle
perfection of her
supra-sternal notch
ever stay with you
til morning?
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 1:07 PM UTC
Thinking of thee makes me feel love;
Love so sweet and deeper than mine.
Unlike the winds, I cannot move;
Unlike the sun, I cannot shine.
To be thy own love is my dream;
no more my past, nor but of him.
He once filled my heart and destroyed;
He lent me an unthoughtful joy.
To dream of him is but a pain;
Thoughts that shall fray in feeble rain.
Shall never I want him again;
Only my curses, shall remain.
Like butterflies in the garden
Thy images flirt 'bout like heaven
Thou art handsomer than glosses;
Even more p'rilous than roses.
Thou shall cure me of all torments;
Thou shall be my real gentleman.
Best of the stories I invent,
A tame hero; a loyal friend.
He is a past too far away;
He whose worries are past dismay;
He traced my path last September;
out of autumn fogs and winter.
He lured me into his foresight;
let me astray in memory.
He knows nothing of wrong and right;
He is too blind to say sorry.
Far I'd wandered past cliffs and beaches;
Until thy heart came into view.
Thou turned backwards within my reach;
Bringing me fresh feelings and clues.
Thou found me 'gain in summer's bliss,
Thou stole my love from heart of his.
I saw in thy bright complexion,
Neither lies nor trepidations.
Thou art worth all salutations,
The ringing joys of fond prayers.
Thou art the fruit of all seasons,
Son of truth and a fast healer.
Thou art the song of morn and night;
Thou art Lantern to all delight.
To be with thee is'a great blessing;
As are t'ese crazes, and love feelings.
And being with thee feels just right;
To breathe by thee at a holy night.
Thou art profuse, like yon foliage;
Good as my dreams, of marriage.
Jun 8, 2013
Jun 8, 2013 at 3:31 PM UTC
a thin rusting frame
is held up against broken glass,
frosted over by years of
sea salt
thick to breathe as snow,
South-easterly tangles my hair,
glosses my cheeks a cold rose
I cannot see myself
anywhere
Oct 9, 2016
Oct 9, 2016 at 3:08 AM UTC
It's been a while
Since I've sat down for this long
Just to write
All the words I can write
They call it a stream of consciousness
But I call it a stream of truth
It's a stream to remember
As it glosses over your skin
Maybe this truth
Will stick around
A bit longer than the sunlight
A bit longer than the nightlight
I don't want my writing to go away
I don't want my writing to be forgotten
I want my writing to stay
I want it to be remembered
A writer only ever wants to stay
That is the mark of a great writer
It's not that hard, to write for a long time
It's pretty hard, for that long time of work to stick around
But don't worry
It's just a stream of consciousness
It's not a hard thing to do
So we will just keep typing and praying for hamlet
To come rolling off our fingers
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 12:55 AM UTC
the pause in his lips gives her
opportunity to place her own point of view on
the cold still air
pencil in her mindset before he can resume
she glosses over the facts and
rushes headlong into the tantrum
but it is cooled by the time passed and
she can no longer sustain it
bland face
and dulled kiss
its shouting in her heart has ceased
now woven into the fabric of their relationship
she must live with it rearing its head
from time to time
its ugly features a sinister mocking
of her feelings
and that brings tears
she doesn't want to cry
that's too girly
she comforts herself once more wrapped in his arms
and with the concepts of her plans
wedding careerer children future
he stands with his arms round her nuzzling form
and stares out the window
into the depths of the world
but sees only the inevitable approaching
the certainty of its arrival is not cloaked to him
as it is to her
without even thinking he calculates the meanings
and gauges the cost
he only winces inwardly
at her murmurings of reassurance
better that this beast of romance
has departed with the tides
better that the arguments tear this
summer fling apart than face
the barren fruitless seed
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 8:52 AM UTC
Girl with stitched lips, whats your name?
And who named you before you came?
Please tell me why are you oh so sad,
Is it because of the previous life you had?
From whom have you inherited your eyes?
****** and orange; the color of burning skies.
Your pale face taut and soaked with tears,
What lurks in your mind m'lady; what kind of fears?
On your lips; who did the needlework?
Dried blood glosses the black thread of the artwork.
O' who is the man knocking on your door every night,
For what reason does he give you a fright?
Who lets him in as you live alone,
Why don't you ever answer the ringing phone?
What are the secrets that you hide,
That has caused your lips to be tied?
O' what are these dark secrets you can not reveal,
That has given you scars you can not heal?
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 7:49 AM UTC
The word “Emergency”
in the acronym ER
sure brings about raw emotion
and pressed awareness
You are further removed, now
both in mental and physical states
The doctor was worried
What comes next?
My mind glosses over possibilities
Too much trauma undertaken
A mask to extract?
Or crisis, true?
What if the end is near?
Rarely do we see it coming
The tears of loss and relief
are all the same to gravity
I’d think of the greatness
you could’ve become
Biting my tongue, speaking instead of
the lives you did touch
Life is fleeting
Worrying offers illusory action
Gratitude is infinite
Connection holds the key
Oct 3, 2021
Oct 3, 2021 at 3:37 PM UTC
Among stone walls,
And sunlit lawns
With trees that light glosses,
I am a scenery.
There's a fresh new currency
In the world,
But maybe it isn't so new,
We pay each other attention,
And collect bills
From our needy companions.
I lose myself,
In the chaotic storm
Of the attention economy,
I lose myself,
And become a person
I like to keep in the closed room
I go to therapy in.
There's children's art
Everywhere,
So I fit in,
I'm the sculpture of a man,
Who never grew out
Of jealousy and revenge.
But in a mystical land,
Where our property is made up
Of wit, and hate, and chaotic tendencies,
My other side
Comes out,
As hungry for payment as the next
Person.
I try to explain to myself,
I don't mind,
I'm enough for myself,
But we are creatures
With a herd dynamic,
And I fall into
The pyramid scheme,
That is
The attention economy.
Oct 5, 2016
Oct 5, 2016 at 9:00 AM UTC
if i had the energy,
maybe i'd cry over the fact that
i can't get the words to flow in this paper,
this assignment, this tiny grade
swimming in a lifetime of letters and numbers
all meant to determine my worth.
if i still had the energy, the perfectionist
buried inside of me would kick in and critique
the work; it'd tear apart the letters and mangle them
until they came out sounding somewhat intelligent,
until everyone glosses over the fact that this
paper clearly has no point, no direction
(like my life)
and no energy leaping out to greet the reader,
a.k.a. my professor and literally
not another soul.
if i had the energy, i might care
that this reminds me a little too much of three years ago.
i might try and figure out what the **** to do
in order to make myself care.
then again, if i cared,
i wouldn't be in this position in the first place.
if i had the energy, i'd stop here
and fling myself off the roof - at least,
i would, if i didn't think dying would hurt
like hell and death wouldn't be terrifying as ****
if i had the energy, maybe this paper would already
be finished, and i could be sleeping, instagramming,
living. but the energy and my soul are dried up,
and the words won't come,
and i keep clacking on these tired keys,
a desperate prisoner trapped in dizzying
whirlwind college days.
Nov 29, 2015
Nov 29, 2015 at 7:48 PM UTC
I feel the sea, is the last gift I'll ever receive
I will be given nothing before it
And definitely nothing after it
As soon as it glosses my skin I will leave
Sink into the known hate of my blood
And fall in love, and only believe in sea
And never feel the need,
For anyone, or anything else but sea
I can imagine it now as I close my eyes
I can see the darkness not of the skies
But of the sea, and I feel like breathing and...
I breathe in sea air, now,
I know, there is nothing else
I will ever care for again
Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 4:13 PM UTC
The runaway husbands have no tales to tell
before long their roses dry and the love die
as they tie in strokes of un-diffused confusion
watching the time decay as the tempest night cries
When the morning comes you die again
like that rug that was left for mere disuse
in a field of the undefined and defiled
dancing salutes with an invisible Sultan
Sometimes the questions are unanswerable
and clusters of closure are permissible
as the dim shine glosses to a smooth polish
the suffered broken parts of the strolls unashamed
It all takes times to feel a whole again
and the beat of the drum arise in fiery fumes
Streaming, a-coursing deep in the veins
searching for a surrender to that serene direction
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 3:53 AM UTC
And the most sobering thoughtlessness.
Wiped away by some nervous strike.
Tissue pillow and the awakening with your sun.
Window spirals and glosses this beauty. This sweet birth by a child's hand. A tin roof and glass walls.
Cancel event.
We decide to sleep.
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 2:45 AM UTC
I. you took all the words I could never pronounce and slipped them to me under the roof of my mouth. yet with time even stone erodes under water, and earth gives way to its core. a cave, a house; the idea of ‘us’ dwindled down to nothing but thin smoke, fumes rising from burning fire wood. as the flowers bloomed in spring, only your shadow took the place besides mine.
II. un deux trois, the numbers slip off my tongue in unfamiliar curves, a lilting curl in an accent too foreign for mine. perhaps we have always been strangers, born from the gap in adam’s ribs and the silhouette of eve’s body. dust to dust they wash and repeat; mantras ticking like metronomes atop grandfather’s piano. the melody still plays even though he is gone, paradise calling him far, far away.
III. she barely reaches my chest, small hands tugging at the edge of my shirt. her eyes are focused, brows furrowed in concentration. ghosts remain forever familiar; we have shared the same face, known the same pain. as my gaze glosses over the crumpled sheets and red pens strewn across the floor, she trembles against me. i reply the only way i know how, dropping to my knees and embracing her. as she begins to fade away, the truth rings in our ears, loud and clear – we both turn out okay, i promise, i promise.
(a.h.z)
May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 7:56 PM UTC