"godsend" poems
Delilah baby I can feel the weight of you in my arms.
I can feel my k to z love for you and see how that laugh of yours makes people cry
and how that smile pierces my heart because it looks just like his did.
I can feel the sun kissing each one of our toes as we sit overlooking the grand canyon in the kaleidoscope sunset.
your spider fingers are wrapped in my hair like a plea to never be left alone
your spindle legs are all knobby kneed and pale entwined with mine.
baby he left me not you.
I was a hurricane and he loved you too much to look
afraid that one glance and he'd be head over heels reeling out of control
like you were the drug and he was the addict.
they say everything happens for a reason and you are my reason.
Delilah baby you are the here and the now of forever.
the stop sign on the corner is an obstacle for street racers but its a godsend because its just enough of a pause for me to kiss you between the eyes.
and I can't ever finish anything so this story isn't complete
and at the top of the pass where the air is clear enough if we sing loud enough maybe he will hear us and remember who he left behind.
Nov 15, 2015
Nov 15, 2015 at 12:20 PM UTC
On a mythical Mumbai weekend,
of no serene start or dubious end,
with imaginary beauties, invisible friends,
I stepped out of a puffing train,
my long unkempt hair a lion's mane,
getting used to my twitching tail,
Posing on the Gateway of India,
the extraordinary explorer pose,
took a boat to Elephanta (sans the hose),
and when my shivering co-passengers
had finished feverishly taking pictures
and started screaming holy mothers and sisters,
I took off from the starboard end,
and became the first man-lion to
cross the polluted Indian channel,
surviving to make the news channels,
my scientific name listed as a brand new mammal,
my mating call recognized as a gushing gargle,
On a mythical Mumbai weekend,
of no serene start or dubious end,
with imaginary beauties, invisible friends,
I devoured deep-kissing lovers for lunch
at Bandstand's low-tide on a hunch,
to the delicious sound of munch! munch!
even as Shah Rukh Khan watched disgusted
from his big big bungalow by the sea,
and as the city sharpshooters came after me,
and later when they brought me down,
from Nariman Point building, like KING KONG,
I tuned a dusty guitar and sang a melancholy song,
on the death of adventure, love and reality,
dangers of delusions, lethargy and self-pity,
repression, horniness and too much TV,
down in a shower of bullets when I went,
sky like the coming of rain, godspeed, godsend,
in a mythical city, where nothing is really meant,
On a mythical Mumbai weekend,
of no serene start or dubious end,
with imaginary beauties, invisible friends...
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 11:01 AM UTC
On this rainy day
I just want to cry
Not like some others
Who wish they would die
On this rainy day
Just want it to end
*** somehow I thought
He was a Godsend.
On this rainy day
I wish I could weep
And all my troubles
Could roll down my cheeks
On this rainy day
I just want the tears
And just to erase
All the past years
On this rainy day
My emotions scream
And boy do I wish
This was all a dream
On this rainy day
Want someone to hold
Someone who'll love me
Even when I'm old
On this rainy day
A painting's my heart
He graffitid it
And made it his art
On this rainy day
Breath seems like torture
A thing of unknown
Like a new culture
On this rainy day
I just want to cry
But oh pity me
My tear ducts are dry
On this rainy day
I just want to choke
On my wet tears, but
My tear ducts are broke.
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 4:39 PM UTC
it's almost two in the morning.
i toss and turn,
roll around--
nothing.
sighing, i sit up,
and think to myself,
"This hasn't happened in a while."
my mind automatically goes back to that time,
when i was younger,
and our family went to the capital.
slept in some fancy hotel
with some fancy people
with their fancy clothes.
on the second night we stayed there,
i couldn't get a wink of sleep.
i don't know whether if it was because of exhaustion
or something else.
naturally,
the next morning was hell.
i was pissy and bored
as we waited for father in the lobby.
i couldn't take a nap in public because, well,
i had my pride, of course!
chewing a gum quite aggressively,
i observed my surroundings.
my gaze hopped from one person to another.
a royal from a country i haven't even heard of.
an important figure in politics.
a celebrity.
a kid.
white blonde hair?
i haven't seen hair of that shade.
it was quite unnatural here.
i whipped my head to the left and saw
two beautiful people.
the taller was around my age.
he had the same mop of hair as the kid i saw (the shorter).
the child, on the other hand,
was most probably no older than six.
they were both awesome.
the light glowed on their figures,
and it looked like they were godsend.
i haven't seen anything more beautiful.
and who knew that who knows how many years later,
i would find myself looking back on that vivid memory.
as if it had happened yesterday.
(i feel like i'm still stuck in that time.)
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 2:15 PM UTC
There’s a lot to be said for this place.
A near-perfect pitch for diversity,
Diversity: a neurolinguistic term;
A quaint way to say: miscegenation.
No, just kidding; I meant the melting ***
A fine blend of Anglo, Hispanic & Indian blood—
That’s Pueblo & Plains Indian blood--
Not that **** masala, chapati & dal Indian blood.
My apologies to "Who's the White Guy?" Bobby Jindal.
New Mexico: “The Land of Enchantment.”
Where 310 sunny days per annum,
Are like money in the bank, earning
Double-plus compound interest for those
Suffering with seasonal affective disorders.
A land of sunshine without the orange juice,
But substitute chili, red or green?
An equitable offset to be sure.
310 days of sunshine:
Even the white people are brown here.
Which does a lot for my self-esteem.
Back east—New York, Chicago & Philadelphia e.g.—
People that look like me, i.e.,
People with dark brown hair, eyes and skin,
Get stopped/ass-cheek spread/& frisked, routinely.
Stop & Frisk: NYPD’s spectator sport for decades.
Stop & Frisk: Mayor Bloomberg-defended
Crime-stopping Godsend,
Getting guns off the streets.
Getting homicides down.
Everything’s cool until some slick race baiter,
Starts yelling: RACIAL PROFILING.
Forget for a moment that people that look like me,
People like me with dark hair, eyes & skin,
Commit 78% of the crime in most cities.
“It’s not racially driven profiling,”
Said Newark’s police director recently
Referring to stops carried out by his officers.
“IT’S CRIME-DRIVEN PROFILING!”
But, again, political-correctness trumps common sense:
August 2013: Judge Rules NYPD
Stop-and-Frisk Unconstitutional.
Well I’ll be a monkey’s *** ******
I moved to New Mexico to blend in.
My complexion a shoe-in for
The Witness Protection Program or
Any other public or private,
Domestic or international rendition site.
But I digress.
New Mexico: no passport necessary, Babaloo!
New Mexico: be you white or black, Hispanic or Indian,
Or even Roswell extraterrestrial,
The cops here will beat the **** out of you.
Or shoot you dead, Kemosabe.
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 1:44 PM UTC
Shimmer and flow
Wood Lake at sunset seems to emit a soft glow.
Waves like edges move and dip
Feathering out, tumble and flip.
I hear the giggling of happy little girls
Dunking heads underwater and wetting their curls.
Scraggly young boys jump off a long pier
Showing their bravado that they have no fear.
Mallard ducks and tan little birds soar and float.
Passing patient people fishing off docks, or in a boat.
As I watch natures glory a gentle breeze caresses my sleeve.
I am at peace with myself with nothing to grieve.
I am very grateful for the time I spent here.
It gave me the chance to think with a mind that is crystal clear.
I was in my own world relaxing on my inflatable chair
With the sunshine as my companion floating here and there.
This quaint little lakehouse is a Godsend to friends
Who need some time to heal, make changes or amends.
The owners are loving in spirit, generous and kind.
They open their home as a haven for the heart, soul and mind.
Copyright *CindyRenouf @2010
www.stumbleupon.com/stumbler/Cindy1128
Jul 27, 2010
Jul 27, 2010 at 7:32 PM UTC
All these days
I thought I was fated
Challenged against my will
To gain the trust of strangers
Strangers who turn into friends
Friends who turn into lovers
Lovers who turn heartbroken
I don’t bow my head to their feet
I bow down way beneath
To offer this trust
In desperation to be trusted
With the impression that trust happens on the outside.
While I feed my soul to the world outside
While I feed myself an understanding
That strangers turn into friends,
I am blinded away from my world on the inside.
Those I always know are my own
Become more transparent than invisibility
Those I take for granted as my own,
Become the strangest of strangers.
While I chisel and chisel away
I shape strangers into friends
Friends into lovers
Until I carve a bit too deep into the stone
Realizing a little too late its fragility
Lovers turn broken hearted
And I fall
And there they appear all over again
My very own strangers
They reappear
With love
They disappear again
With strangeness
Yet only they appear again
And again
Godsend, these strangers are
They let me walk away from them
They let me befriend
They let me love
They let me hurt and get hurt
They let me fall
They watch me fall
Yet they appear,
Only to pick me up again
To hold me with grip
To be my crutch, my wheel and my horn
To be the strangers I first opened my eyes to
To be the strangers who showed me friendship
To be the strangers who taught me love
To be the strangers whose hearts are too strong to break
To be the strangers I call,
My family.
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 8:55 AM UTC
I don't believe in fate nor in any kind of grand design,
Because if we got what we deserved then theres no way that you'd be mine.
So I won't call you a godsend nor compare you to an angel,
And though your absence burns I won't say that I'm in hell.
But when I close my eyes I see your face
and girl now my heart it starts to race
at rather an impressive pace
as I think of you in all your grace
I think this is another a case
where my heart is ever giving chase
as it beats out with infinite bass
at the thought of you all clad in lace.
But I'll admit that in your dress,
You display infinite finesse
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 5:49 AM UTC
Just in case you didn’t know
My mind is low,
You’re reading these scribbles now
This boring man, talks and talks
About government
It’s really not a godsend
This boring man gives his back
And too much slack
This country is on ******* crack
I’m done takinf pointless notes
That I won’t look at
This boring man is very fat
I want to leave and **** ****
A lovely deed,
This boring man; monotone
Boring man is trying to be cool
He’s a ******* fool
He needs to be in a box, he’s a tool
This boring man, always boring
To my left I hear snoring
Boring man, walk out the door!
Time as of now is molasses
Minutes are hours
**** government and their powers
Democrat, republican, libertarian
You’re all wrong
Hey, pass me that ****
Boring man cannot teach
I just wish,
I was at the sunny beach
Hell, I’d be anywhere
Not here but there
I don’t care, this guy has no flare
25 minutes, oh my lord,
I’m so bored
Not as much as the boring man
This is getting out of hand
Against government
Let’s all get up and stand!
Jun 1, 2011
Jun 1, 2011 at 8:31 PM UTC
I have a trinket
I hold the world in my palms
And in the world i hold a woman who owns a voice that calms
This trinket is not magic
It's a godsend in disguise
And it harbors the words of a woman
With bright blue sky eyes
Now the distance is quite an issue
But it won't hold our demise
There are many miles ahead
And time is on our side
So I'll just lay here awake
Chatting away with someone in which i confide
And maybe one day I'll get a package
Marked precious cargo with you wrapped up inside
Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 3:51 AM UTC
i am the snow angel,
in the cloud dressed with sheets.
i lay naked,
but still bare wardrobe.
i am a godsend,
a scaredy cat,
an existential ****
my mouth full at 8 am
before leaving my slumber behind.
my mind full before gasping for air,
in my first encounter with this oversized atom.
this speck that just so happens to exist,
and sustain the life i so desperately
want and know is necessary.
my existence, my breaths,
shake everything else into place.
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 10:35 PM UTC
Your effort to save me was three words long
As though years of bitterness could be rectified
With a superficial, overdone, idiotic phrase...
So that you could at least say you "tried."
It's pathetic how the words tickle the back of my throat
Always waiting to spill onto the nearest sympathetic ear
And even more so pathetic that they are never said...
Because I'm convinced you won't say what I want to hear.
It is in your ignorance that you reach out to shattered people
Without recognizing the barbed wire around them
And you'd be infected with their plague with the slightest *****
I hope you're infected, I hope you end up broken.
You're not above this. You're not.
You pretend to be just as okay as we do
You're not some miracle healer; not godsend
I hope you realize we, every single one of us, hate you.
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 10:07 PM UTC
in separating the health of a child
from the child itself
it is an uncommon
godsend
to be given one
to practice on
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 9:43 AM UTC
For all those who feel the pain
Of a tireless job, again and again
I salute you
For all single mothers all alone
Working and aching to the bone
I salute you
For all the soldiers away from family
Risking their life against a common enemy
I salute you
For all the nurses doing the hours godsend
Doing the night shift that never seems to end
I salute you
For the people reading this and relate
Knowing life can sometimes be a desperate state
I salute you
For all of you who find life can be a test
When you are out there and doing your best
I salute you
Feb 20, 2011
Feb 20, 2011 at 7:14 PM UTC
.oh... hi y'all:
or rather - how did i find this in the noun Ohio?
i guess after watching
the disaster artist
and no having watched
the room...
the tetragrammaton
is so glaring to me
in the English tongue,
i might as well be
a reincarnation of
Belshazzar
(but not really...
because, to me,
reincarnation
implies
a fixed number
of people...
and an mingling
of solipsism from
philosophy,
and NPC from the gaming
world...
no, i can't believe
in reincarnation...
saving grace of
the Hindus?
they're not lactose intolerant;
boogie-woogie-boo-woo
ooh things are turning,
freak-y...
why is that a Y and not
an E?
see... the tetragrammaton
is glaring at me...
like an ***** protruding
phallus with the added
"flavor" of a circumcision
snippet...
me? i'm fine...
no snippet...
i can **** off as much
as i like and not feel
stupid -
or catholic, about it,
having, in my possession,
an unsheathed "sword").
p.s. it really is the case
of circumcising men
as a procreational motivation,
no ******** on you...
plenty of ******** on her...
and how the east meets
the west...
back in the east i'd be a blessing...
over 'ere?
i'm a walking abortion...
a nuisance...
something you send off
to fight in incestuous...
here's my 100 year closure celebration:
V!
like the Welsh longbow men... up yours!
who? in the 100 year war...
the French would cut off the...
**** index or middle finger?
they would cut off one of the fingers
of the Welsh longbow men...
so they could fire an arrow...
P.O.W.s...
so the Welsh longbow men
came up with V... a salute
to the French... up yours!
i still have mine!
hence? i don't feel ****** jerking off...
too bad, ol' chap,
you've been given an incentive
to find your missing ********
in a woman's *****
sorry... i actually feel sorry for
you having this imposed on you...
the missing caftan / hood and all...
sometimes i wondered:
does she even know what she's
doing performing ******** on
me? maybe i could cut my torso off
and show her how to do it?
in the east i'd be a godsend,
but in the west i'm an
embarrassment...
great in tissue... greater still
in pointless wars...
auxiliary pageant...
sure sure...
glorify the women...
last time i heard my ex-girlfriend
gave birth to her fourth child...
her fourth daughter...
i seriously should have been
born a ******* Mongol.
Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 6:47 PM UTC
you have a bathtub for a bed
hairbrush as a mic
no roof over your head
go everywhere on your bike
wall for a friend
stone for a sole
running water is merely Godsend
being materialistic was never your goal
i offered you money
love
companionship
but those offers fell to the floor
"i ain't no charity,"
and you were already out the door.
Jan 20, 2013
Jan 20, 2013 at 8:45 PM UTC
**When you need that special friend
one who cares deeply and is real
i think of elsa, a real true godsend
her heart is deep, and she has sense appeal**
*Everyone should have a ''Elsa'' in their life.
She makes me laugh louder,
smile brighter,
and live alittle bit better*
**Her love is contagious
her eyes are to die for
the warmth she exhibits
grown men have cried for**
*She gives the best advice &
she is always there for others.
Girls can survive without a boyfriend
but, they can't survive without a bestfriend.*
**She has been my rock
when my world began to roll
brought me back uphill
before things took their toll**
*She was the one who told me to
ask for a second a chance with ''him''
She was the one who realized
that he wasn't the one
She knew that I deserved better
than ''him'' before I did*
**Wise beyond her years
listens to your fears
loves unconditionally
darling elsa. true friend, always, to me**
*You're an angel,
it's in your last name for crying out loud.* :D
**Such a sweet angel
and being your friend makes me feel proud**
Thank you Elsa for everything you do.
Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 6:14 PM UTC
Why is it that I go to sleep feeling lonely
But wake up to one hundred texts
People don't want me during the day time
But in the night I'm apparently a godsend
The 2 A.M. "what're you up to"?
Surely I know what that means
What you really want to know
Is if I'll satisfy your needs
When you're just a pretty face
No one cares what's on the inside
I'm the girl whom your mind jumps to
When all you want is a good time
I may not be everyone's cup of tea
But surely I'm their ninth shot of liquor
Brought up over drunken conversation
You all say "yeah, I'd stick her"
It doesn't matter what I say
It's not as if I have a choice
In this world of simple pleasures
I'm viewed as a body without a voice
Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 9:32 AM UTC
At night, when the sky is darkest,
just before the glow of dawn,
I think of you. Pitter patters
of memories, right down
to the curve of your smile,
the fluttering of lashes,
your refreshing curiosity, like a child;
reviving them before they turn to ashes.
Add daydreams to these memories.
With wishes and dreams,
love, humour and fantasies;
bursting at the seams.
What is it like, to be a part of you?
You are a godsend, a blessing.
My dear, nothing compares to you.
You are as smooth as a dark satin,
as precious as gems on a king's crown.
Oh my, more precious perhaps.
You are flowers blooming all year round,
as joyous as a baby's first few steps.
You are as eloquent as a scholar,
with looks blessed by Aphrodite,
as humorous as a jester,
and you are a star to me.
A life-long dream, manifested in a body.
Who would've thought it'd come true?
Your presence makes me
fearless, safe as being on a plateau.
I can conquer anything;
even my nightmares and insecurities.
The painful past I carry doesn't sting
as much when you're here, Achilles.
Perhaps it is a mistake
to adore you this much. But oh,
it is a risk I'm willing to take.
Especially when you give me this much hope.
I pray that one day,
our matched souls will meet
at the gates of heaven.
I will finally get to speak
these words of love I've written;
to unleash my undying thirst for you.
Maybe we'll get to dance among
the stars I've whispered to.
And we'll all shine brightly.
Our reunion will be rejoiced,
with me in your arms safely;
and close the book on our story.
-m.b
Jan 1, 2018
Jan 1, 2018 at 7:41 AM UTC
Afield from thee, tis true,
Though I shalt abide;
Betwixt space and time,
Awaiting thy side-to be
Next to mine. Seven
Month's hath passed,
Another seventy-seven
Lifetime's I awaiteth
To catch, to catcheth
Mine eye's on thine.
An immortal's life-
Time; we shalt
Quobrasine in
This and the
Next life- happy seventh anniversary
Mine soulmate, àgapi mou, zoi mou, best friend. Godsend.
Mine Jane sardua.
Mine wife.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( àgapi mou) dedication
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 9:40 PM UTC
I wish the first moment I met you,
Would resound forever.
Never needing food or sleep,
Just content in your presence.
The feeling of love and awe,
Beauty captured in a moment.
My desire is to go back,
To that very first day…
And if I may,
I think I’d kiss you,
If just to say,
I’m yours.
To see and smell you’re autumn hair,
Matching you’re hazel glazed eyes perfectly.
Felicity,
How delightfully,
You kiss me.
Bliss,
Thy name is,
Such sweet remiss.
First,
I will love you,
Then I will quench your thirst.
Then,
In half remembered ecstasy’s,
I will taste you when.
After,
Your chest will rise tiredly,
Stuggling for laughter.
Finally,
I will hug and cuddle you,
Showing that my love is not trivial.
When,
I wake from the dream,
I’ll still remember that you are a godsend.
I used to believe there was something wrong with me.
And then I met you.
I used to be sick with loneliness,
But you cured it with you’re faithfulness.
Whenever I looked into the dark, I saw empty shadows,
Now it is you that fills the gallows.
Before I met you I was dead but a live.
Now I’m in love and living my life.
Whereas before depression and anger were present,
Now it is only happiness and joy, in every second.
I write these to let out my emotions,
So that you may cry tears of elation.
I want to scream out you’re name and etch it on my heart,
Because it most certainly beats with you’re mark.
I am not the smartest or fastest or tallest or strongest.
But I put in the effort and I’ll work for your content.
I promise not to you hurt you, if you’ll promise the same,
Because in the end we are opposites but one in name.
Loving You,
Is so painful,
Too cliché,
And risqué…
Too dangerous,
Too incredulous,
Too out of bounds,
Too without grounds.
A soul mate,
A friend,
A lover,
A mother.
It’s coming to a close,
And all these words, and ideas and moans,
They are my own.
But they are more yours than mine,
Because I am nothing, if not on you’re vine.
Feed me and pet met and water me too,
Show me lots of love, and like an angel sent from above,
I will radiate my light on you.
It’s not much, for sure,
But it’s what I’ve got.
It’s added to you’re presence,
Your heavenly beauty.
I’ll leave you with one last thought,
Something that shall not be forgot.
You’re only young and you’re only alive once,
So make it the best, make it loved,
That’s what I’ve done, what I did,
When I found the one.
Mia.
Jul 8, 2010
Jul 8, 2010 at 8:38 PM UTC
Sleek as they drip off me
Making you eager to droop and scoop
Every drop like a leech would human blood
But wait, a gorge won’t save your hungered
Soul as my every bit leaves you wanting for more
Dismount your obsessive horse
Of carting away my very essence
Plea me your sins, I forgive like a reverend
Also bring penance as a godsend
For I have what you want and won’t pretend
A soul to spill the lie you want to hear
To cuddle the truth and make her fall asleep
In the imaginary arms of a lullaby princess
Yea! ‘tis what I deal you and very well
Tempting your every fiber to a fault
Girdling my tongue leaves you a goner
For with its wobbling there is succor
Contagious enough to infect Mr. Nobody
Reach the saddened with hope to laugh
Again, saving a tooth from obscurity.
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 1:51 AM UTC
You wake up each day looking for love.
Then one day it falls from above.
It’s sent so sweet it must be true.
Your heart will taste the new virtues.
And mundane life will reach its end,
when two new lives begin to blend.
For the night is when bright souls entwine.
Like the light of stars as they align.
So ignite their fuel, let loose their shine.
Or spend a life lost, looking, for some godsend.
Why not look for someone who you can spend,
an eternity alone with you?
As if they came and rescued you.
So fly to them like a dove.
Hold them close they are your love.
Apr 16, 2012
Apr 16, 2012 at 5:54 PM UTC