"handsomely" poems
Miss Helen Slingsby was my maiden aunt,
And lived in a small house near a fashionable square
Cared for by servants to the number of four.
Now when she died there was silence in heaven
And silence at her end of the street.
The shutters were drawn and the undertaker wiped his feet—
He was aware that this sort of thing had occurred before.
The dogs were handsomely provided for,
But shortly afterwards the parrot died too.
The Dresden clock continued ticking on the mantelpiece,
And the footman sat upon the dining-table
Holding the second housemaid on his knees—
Who had always been so careful while her mistress lived.
4.5k
Notice the way I change when you enter the room.
Notice the way you make my lips curl into a smile when you speak to me.
Notice the way your face reflects so handsomely in my brown eyes.
Notice the way my body shudders beneath your touch.
Notice the way I taste on your lips, lust and desire.
Notice the way that I can’t live without you.
Notice the way I change when you leave.
Notice the way I have no smiles left, only frowns.
Notice the way you can’t see a thing through my glassy eyes.
Notice the way that my hip bones poke through my tee shirt.
Notice the way my lips chap and bleed when you kiss me.
Notice the way that I’m dying without you.
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 10:14 PM UTC
i wish i knew how to put some pretty words together;
in a way that you could read me and cry without realizing it,
in a way that you don't know how it all suddenly made sense
but it all fell together - so right - till the end.
with the steady hand of a seamstress and the persistence of a theorist,
i would string together wispy letters, carefully taking away
and holding all the guilty, lukewarm feelings of self-romanticized nostalgia,
with those hollow, deep pangs of shamelessly missing you
from the somewheres and over theres beneath my ribs.
sometimes, i really miss you - and all of those times, i hate it.
sometimes i stare back at you longer than i should,
but i'm beginning to think that even looking your way
is much worse than a waste of sweet time at this point.
i don't want you inside of my mind anymore.
my wants and needs and maybes of tomorrow are foggy and furiously blinded with
what you used to make me feel. will i ever want anything that much again?
i see you a lot in my mind, smiling handsomely in a way that kind of ****** me off.
in some way, i am overwhelmingly upset in a way i can't describe, in such a strange dialect that
i've maybe only begun to understand when you spoke it to me with watery eyes and an offkey tone:
"i can't do it." i think i know what you mean now.
you were trying to say something deep, i had thought all along,
but i think you were just trying, just simply trying to go along
with something that was safe; you know, i forgive you for playing it safe.
we're just trying to protect what little good we think is left.
i wish i could have tried just as hard; tried harder/ to be with you
because i'm just so tired
(i need to rub my eyes clear)
that i will exasperatingly admit that i am lost after you.
i'm so ruthlessly childish, in a curious way that i refuse to let these warm,
painful feelings for you go.
ruthlessly, still into you, i'm so hardheaded that i will even ignore myself
to forget you
over
(this is the last time i'll look back on you)
and over
(i swear his name won't come to me tomorrow)
again.
you replay in my mind;
maybe one day i will
forget that you ever really meant everything to me once
anyways.
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 8:46 PM UTC
my son is a better version of me
i easily break
he rides storms smilingly
i crumble in a crisis
he handles stoically
my emotions play loud on face
he hides it handsomely
i'm doubtful of exploring
he ventures courageously
i speculate on life too much
he bothers not seriously
Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 1:41 PM UTC
I’m sick and tired of people rabbiting on a load of ****
About their ******* duty and fighting for freedom
For the fat ugly patriotic selfish folks "back home"
And pathetic ****** neo-fascist ******** like that
And gabbling on a load of sentimental horsedung
About giving their all for their ******* useless country
When honestly they’d rather be at home in some ugly provincial hick town
Patting their nasty mongrel dogs and groping their neighbours’ wives' arses
And eating mumsy-wumsy’s over-cooked meat and stodgy apple pie
Whilst ensconced on the sofa watching sodding Celebrity Big Brother.
How can a soldier nowadays say he didn't want to be there?
Are people so ******* thick or blind or moronic not to realise
A person volunteers to be in the armed forces in most countries nowadays?
There’s no ****** press gangs or ****** conscription any more;
People become soldiers because they choose to do so
(exceptions include filthy ******* shit-holes like Israel
where the young men queue up to **** Palestinian babies for fun) .
Therefore soldiers DO want to fight, they DO want the chance to ****
And they willingly risk their own ugly unwashed redneck necks.
So they have no right to whine and bellyache when they get asked
To earn their daily state-paid bread and do a spot of killing
Instead of sitting on their overweight arses at MY expense.
Or course, they could show some real guts and resign instead,
But what the **** why pass up on a chance to do some
Legalised ****** and get paid handsomely at the same time.
Just in case you think I forgot, I am totally and fully aware
That 'he' includes 'she' in this context now that women
Have an equal chance to have their military buns blown off pointlessly.
So don't whinge or expect sympathy when your body parts come home in a bag.
Personally, I am of the belief that the only good soldier is a dead soldier,
And the more the merrier. RIP military thugs and up yours.
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 12:39 PM UTC
I got dumped
by you
the only guy who I ever believed
really loved me -
how ironic.
I got talked into you
by you
despite my reluctance
despite my misgivings
despite all of my contrived logic.
We rode together
in carriages
and walked
snow-lined streets
in nineteenth century
New York City.
Resistance evaporated,
like steamy breath
from horses' nostrils
on a wintry night.
Despite the cold,
beads of sweat
settled on my arms and legs,
so sweet they were,
I licked them off
myself.
My troubled vision
transformed
into knowing
and there was nothing left
to banter about
to and fro
yes and no
up and down.
But just before the titillating ******
could occur
. . .
you dumped me.
I took that carriage ride alone
back to my former self.
I tipped the driver generously
for returning me
to the abrasiveness
of words
and the sense
of duality.
They became my comfort now.
He said he couldn't leave his wife
alone that night
even though
I propositioned him
handsomely.
Clearly he was tempted.
How deluded we mortals be.
Sep 25, 2012
Sep 25, 2012 at 8:52 PM UTC
Walk softly, she said, softly
on hearts around you.
Your power crushes, your love
is unseemly, your tender eyes
behind yellow teeth and make-up,
your gifts are petulance,
and your own heart,
your own quiet beating drum,
passion-beat ceased long before
under the heavy tread,
the power protecting, the dreamy love,
the hard eyes behind white teeth, gnashing
the giving of precious priceless gifts,
not given freely,
and the loud thrumming incessant hum.
The masculine muscle, throbbing,
beating proudly, smugly,
handsomely sometimes.
It weeps for you and itself,
Carved of it's own destruction,
as it tends to be.
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 2:00 AM UTC
She was smoked
salmon so spread
Like his creme of
the crop
Smoking hot circles
0-0 0______No-No
The points... Dots
And shoe size petite___-
The whole website
To love and honor
Whats in her moves
The private Dancer
May I never be dropped
To be overly loved
I am not asking for more
The score more or less
can be
The greatest dancer
O yes, so many pretenders?
More spread like_______
Mr ((Mayonaise__meeting
Handsomely Hellman
Falling into your
embrace Tango-Tie
I- Apple creme pie
to phone U
May I tango 4-U
Sweet lips of mango
Don't shed one tear
Listen to what is said?
How her dance step
to be read
next year to be wed
Like your hot rods
and hubcaps near
your bed choices
To sweep me off my
feet well said
The tango soprano voices
The Hub
Rubbing my
dancer's feet his treat
Wildflower Salsa beat
Emotional dance
The Tango
Graphically
Cool______ design
Contacts to sign
To his excitement
Steps are well
worth
the dividends
Drinking tapas
The fine tip of gratis
Sign sealed and
dance delivered
In an instant
dancing contract
Two bodies dance
as one__________*
Flaming intertwined
Brazilian Silky- hair
Mr. May-0 tango pair
Mr. Hellman
merci beaucoup
His desires came with the loop
The mixture mango scoop
May-0, not the May Day
No clouds passing
in grays
So festive never passive
Well made beaded
Peacock Miss Marrietta
The Birds of the feather
Expression of sensual faces
To impress the right man
Distinctly dressed
Explanation point
May I interject my
point______________
Tropical sandals high-point
Tango dancers have a
the certain way
The lovely maiden
Names day and age
Eyes engage contest page
He to her side fancy
May- 0 in her Prime
(Hello)
Another Day-Oh!
Don't move her dancer
days to sail away
Sea breeze perfect per day
Her fancy dancer
shoes not on
layaway
* * * * *
In the now a dancer
nowadays taking flight
Every day always
the dancer's way
You Amaze so blessed
Like your possessed
* * * *
Titans in a blaze
How it may arise
He was dancing to her
movement ****** salsa
To her toes up to her
Tango lips amazing dips
Jun 1, 2018
Jun 1, 2018 at 8:15 AM UTC
twas a poor performance
on the cricket pitch
the fielding side let too many *****
go to the boundary ditch
those batsmen were fabulous
hitting run after run
they really had the fielders
well and truly under the gun
sixes and fours flew
in both sessions of play
the batsmen had a magnificent
selection of strokes to array
the gully fieldsmen
and those on the off side
were unable to contain
the brilliance of the batting side
the South African cricketers
were too sharp for the Australian team
in short order they put paid to
the Australian third test dream
had the boys from down under
done a better job on the cricket pitch
the South Africans wouldn't be crowing
like a rooster at early morn pitch
a concerted effort with fielding
would have handsomely paid
but the Australian side
couldn't withstand the batter's raid
before the next test series
the Aussies have much homework to do
if they wish to accomplish
a win over the other crew
it is a sad day for this
avid devotee of the cricket game
she has witnessed a poor performance
which was rather lame
one is hopeful of a turn around
in fortunes for one's cricket side
and should it come to pass
one will be heartily filled with pride
Apr 27, 2013
Apr 27, 2013 at 7:03 AM UTC
Actually Awesome
Beautifully Broken
Courageously creative
Differently Dazzling
Eagerly Edgy
Fascinatingly Fastidious
Gracefully Great
Handsomely Harmonious
Independently Intelligent
Jokingly Joyful
Keenly Kind
Lovingly Lyrical
Marvelously Magnificent
Naturally Narcissistic
Originally Open-minded
Passionately Pleasant
Quintessentially Quirky
Respectfully Rebellious
Sarcastically Smart
Typically Twisted
Unbelievably Unique
Vigorously Viscous
Wonderfully Wild
X-tremely Xenodochial
Young-fully ******
Zealously Zany
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 2:45 PM UTC
Do you remember the taste of my lips when we kissed
true those moment i realy do miss
when i held your face between my palms
so tender keeping yu from harm
Do you remember when we hugged
those moments when we were intwined
when your heart bet with mine
and every thing seemed so fine
Do you remember ma head on your thighs
and you held me like a child in a cry
those smiles
those moments should have lasted a longer while
Do you remember that stare that made you afraid of ma eyes
you were kept busy by the blue skies
watching time slowly fly
i miss those cute pupils ooh my!
Do you remember that ice cream guy
you don't remember the pinpop! Why?
and the candies that you gave me only a few
*** please don't tell me you dnt have a clue
Fine do you remember that selfie
the one i shared with a tag 'my future wifie'
smiles i will sure marry you
and the happines for our destiny; heavens have a clue
Do you remember when the sun went down
and that day we had to crown
the way we held hands and waists in town
they were jealous; you didn't see them frawn
Do you remember the Nairobi rains
with those poor drains
we got wet in love
we did like in the movies; laughs...
do you stil remember that day i got mad
you leaving early made me sad
heh we parted without a bye
and for another day i had to standby
to make up and make out
to talk sweet and refrain shouts
to let you know that i love you with no doubts
that point that you leave my world itl be all ouch!
Hope you stil remember the monument
it marked the end of my visit and my light moments
this memories are just a torment
but for a lifetym to stay they meant
Those kisses still quench my thirst
in your arms im safe that i trust
those rains still wash away my tears
for birds' chirps are still melody to my ear
candies taste exerctly as yua kiss
and for your face i have the night skies
Hope you remember you promises
for tomorow you wil stil be my princess
till mummy you become and a queen
i will love you handsomely that i promise
Aug 19, 2015
Aug 19, 2015 at 4:35 AM UTC
A prophesied alarm ticks away,
As sobering faces make their way.
Welcome oh stranger, to the land of the learned,
A trip from a ticket handsomely earned.
Watch your crooked tongue,
Forked and twisted in a manner wrong.
For here there be beasts and creatures,
In the midst of dreams and futures.
Through the air drifts the scent of a fanciful tonic,
Quelling instinct, and suppressing the panic.
Walk past the snappy ladies and lads,
Peering at screens for the latest fads.
Watch their suits emanate regality,
Killing the scene with sheer brutality.
See through the pores of that fine fabric,
And you'll find the remnants of a familiar trick.
Not unlike the wisdom of the wizened,
The words of the victorious, the echoes of the poisoned.
Underneath it all, see the truth,
Strip away the puffed, monstrous brute.
It's a dainty little feeling, fear they call it,
On their faces, clear and large is it writ.
They turn from the brave to the meek,
Everyone caught in this noxious reek.
What they ought to have predicted,
Is that this reverie is self inflicted.
Sullen cheeks, and drippy noses abound,
Waiting to be addressed and found.
This place is a walking minefield,
Of broken bones and souls to be healed.
But its not their fault, I can't complain,
Because all they feel they don't feign.
As in the midst of this perennial parade,
I find solace in the friends I've made.
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 10:28 AM UTC
"Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky." WHA
Easy to escape what you hate;
difficult to find what you love.
Handsomely equipped to fail,
we sail out into the world.
Disillusion follows disillusion
until disillusion becomes disillusion,
it's own gray Shade of life.
The old know they have failed.
They young suspect they will.
Take wing against the dead.
Craft waxen wings. Seek the sun.
Soar against all despair.
Better to tumble than not to try,
to fall far and furiously alive.
Try to breach that pure, Attic sky
where light and hope may reside,
once before you wither and die.
Mar 9, 2018
Mar 9, 2018 at 5:32 AM UTC
Men stop in their tracks when they see me
Become tongue-tied, try but cannot speak
We supermodels are paid for our looks, and very handsomely
They see me at an airport, make an approach,
Chat me up, stilted conversation ensues
Oh well, confidentially, I don't mind as I'm just killing time, on my way to the next shoot in Ibiza, then Italy.
Vanisa is the name; I made it up, keeps me sane
Running down the highway of fashion
In the body that is mine
I cannot help if I was born this way
Sublime, the money I make but, look,
It's not that great to hold a bottle of perfume
Or pretend to eat steak
But, Oh, the attention from the men who cross my path
They dream of me, they say, that's a laugh
If they only knew what a B I can be, they'd think twice about
Their fantasy
Look, I'm a nice person, got a family back home
Minnesota is my hideout from the mishigas I've known
And I read books, really I do
Want to talk politics? That would be cool
Here comes another candidate
Lets see what he has to say
Yes I was on the cover of Sports Illustrated
Yay, he says, then comes his big smile
It's so nice everyone loves me
Makes it all worthwhile.
Oct 6, 2016
Oct 6, 2016 at 4:39 PM UTC
Israel foreshadowed in Egypt
Untouched by the Plaques
Passed over by the Destroyer
Egypt broken and bowed
With strangers, Israel walked free
Handsomely ransomed, a nation is born
So shall Israel again be in the Tribulation
As light for sight and salt to taste
And again with strangers
In haste and with bitterness
Come out of the World
Raptured as the First born of God
Jan 23, 2020
Jan 23, 2020 at 5:23 AM UTC
I like that I will live forever
inside your songs, that you
will perform them every
weekend and record them
onto cds. And when you
sing them you will see my
face as your eyes close for
the verses, feel my fingers
run up your arms as you
play that riff, just like they
did on your couch on the
warmest night of the
summer while Boy Meets
World played on the tv in
the background. You
whispered, "Do something
cute again" into my hair
and I wiggled my toes on
your leg, watched you
write out
chorus
bridge
plays guitar handsomely
while you hummed a song
that didn't have words yet
until I fell asleep. I wonder
how long you'll keep playing
that one.
Feb 10, 2014
Feb 10, 2014 at 7:13 PM UTC
Oh honey child!
Whither are you going?
Your wedding cakes are on the hearth
Thither they are glowing.
People are coming
To bless you
For your bliss ahead
Oh honey child!
Whither are you going?
Your wedding gown
Decked up with
The chicest of jewels
Waits in silence
To witness
As your accompaniment
The storm of joy
Of merriment
And good hope
Oh honey child!
Whither are you going?
The honey bride says
I know not what calls me
To the nature's lap
The woods
So dense and deep
Periwinkles and wild roses
Daisies and vivid poses
Of the sceneries
Of Mother nature
Oh mother
I know not
My feet are chasing
Someone unknown
Oh honey child
Marriage is bliss
Why do you face away
And give
Your life's fortunes
A 'sad' miss?
The master groom comes
Lay your hands on his
Exchange the garlands
Of love and life's vows
Find your way
Merrily with his
Oh honey child
Handsomely would he come
And take you
For he is your loving bridegroom
Honey child'honey child!
Whither are you going?
The spirits of joy
The scent of
Blissful solitude
And beautiful happiness
The song
Of the koil scented
Riverbank
And the unknown
Merry wilderness
Calls me
O mother
Not will I stay
I will go.....
Jan 12, 2018
Jan 12, 2018 at 1:21 AM UTC
The Destiny Of A Disciple Of Light
To maintain a spiritual connection a unique one
Therefore, it's you and God alone
Make a commitment to gain spiritual growth
Seek deep inside your inner self and ask yourself this question
Do I stay with God thru everything or do I favor the world?
Meditate on this question then come up with your answer
If you are willing to make the sacrifice of serving God now I tell you
The road isn't going to be easy so make every second count
Hence in the very end it's you facing God in the Final Judgement
What will it be will you reach Paradise or be condemned to the Lake of Fire?
Furthermore, for those people who serve Lucifer their souls
Are so corrupted with evil is hard for them to see the Light
Make yourself a servant of God he will reward you handsomely at the end
Focus on helping others reach Christ in time
We are all running short and out of time
For our lives is like a blossoming flower
Today it grows tomorrow it dies
Mark God's words in peoples hearts don't let them forget him
©Franko the Christian Poet
Aug 25, 2016
Aug 25, 2016 at 5:21 PM UTC
How could I,
The double-faced
WHO’s current leader,
On par with
A chieftain
Brigade general,
Tightlipped attend
My diabolic
Party’s funeral?
Though for
My criminal
Party’s tragic end,
Bereaved,
I have to sob,
I must labor
To garner
The pity of
The credulous, elites
As well as
The mob
Round the globe.
At the same time
Dollars I have
To underwrite
In a bid remaining
Impish junta members
Beef up their might
Armed again
To wage a fight!
After ENDF’s law
Enforcement operation,
“I know not
The whereabouts of
My nephew,
In Micadra’s massacre,
Who might have
Victimized a few!”
Blood is thicker
Than water
Thus about
Genocide victims
Why should
I bother?
By defector as
I’m also
A victimizer.
I forgot
I’ve to seek
A scapegoat,
Though it was
The junta
Who released thugs
And cut throats
Before defeat
So that
They could
Run amok
To wreak havoc
**** & looting—
I will dish out stories
In order hints not
To the gun the smoke!
If handsomely paid
Some media outlets
Could reverse the talk.
Feb 11, 2021
Feb 11, 2021 at 11:09 AM UTC
Oh! you've forgotten this familiar voice so soon?
I am the laborer you employed on your snow field
When your frozen farm could not stand
I was he, who brought you loam from my mother's graveyard
The lurking waves are near
I am come knocking the moonlight door
It is me, the Afrikana
Will you open Sir?
Or just look me at the window and chide me once more.
Oh! landlord, you've forgotten this dark child so soon?
I am the tenant you welcomed into your garage
As your kitten took my place in the guest room
I have come with a basket of thorns woven by my people
For a share of what solely belongs to my ancestors
I am come knocking the moonlight door
It is me, the Afrikana
Will you open Sir?
Or just look me at the window
And hide me in your balcony.
It is me, the Afrikana
I am come on mother's last errand
With a golden necklace handsomely beaten from her shackles
I am come with your cross Sir
Knocking, knocking
It is me, the Afrikana
Will you open the moonlight door?
Oct 28, 2021
Oct 28, 2021 at 11:30 AM UTC
I stand, all alone, in the desert. It’s night, but the sky isn’t dark—it just hangs there—a deep blue background for the millions of stars I was never acquainted with while I lived among the light pollution a thousand miles from here. They tickle my eyes as they fade in and out of vision, covering everything in a cool, silvery glow. I stand beneath them, letting their light wash over me too. They have this way, I think to myself, of making everything seem beautiful—the kind of light that catches you in all of the right places.
There is nothing to interrupt my thoughts here—nothing to deflect and offset my own harsh criticisms. I hope for an interference of some kind, but there is just silence and the churning of self-reflection that hums hot through the sides of my head.
I think about how you would revel in this kind of quiet—this sort of loneliness. I imagine you swallowed whole by it—the space, the silence, the darkness; how it would make you smile. And I smile thinking of your smile. I smile so hard at the thought of your happiness that my mouth suddenly cracks into a scream. What comes out of me is so loud, so long, so full of everything that I had tucked into the secret niches of me, that it shoots out into the night and smatters the whole of the sky.
The gorgeous dark blue fragments come down first; slowly falling from above like fine silks, decorating the curves and edges of this dusty desert. The millions of stars hang there for a moment, still glittering over nothingness. They hesitate, handsomely, and one by one, they start to descend. Then, by the fistful, they come crashing down. What follows is a sound— a thousand cymbals in a rainstorm—deafening but peaceful and powerfully calming. I let them cover me, exploding and splintering as they make contact, drenching me in a marvelous warm light. It drips from the ends of my hair and the tips of my fingers. I taste its tinny glow on my lips, and I can feel its brightness catch in my lungs and cloud my breath. The sensation brings me to my knees. I hush my thoughts into the happiest unprecedented tears and exhale.
It won’t be long now until they find me here.
It won’t be long before they realize that I’m the girl who misloved so deeply, she up and brought down the whole **** sky.
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 4:08 PM UTC
Yup, that's right.
Don't be offended or upset.
It's very environmental,
recycling words.
True, the quality of literacy,
(have mercy on it!)
is getting quite strained
(not-so-good poems
*droppeth as the
gentle rain from heaven*).
Certain words are grumbling,
talking, overworked and overuse,
in poems that say nothing new
(they got their pride too!).
Rumors of unionizing going around,
increasing the minimum wage
to a passing grade,
and something like
a penny a letter,
and double for words,
not of the English language...
The ringleader I'm told
is the word itself
Words
tired from being in
59,649 poems (plus 1 now)
*Death, heartbreak and depression,
scars, cutting and sad,*
the most overwrought ones,
the children's beloved,
their never-ending
plastic ones trending,
under the weight collapsing
of boring and from
the pressure of overuse, bending.
The words have brought
the unrisen, alabaster body
of poor dead (oops)
Love (137,207 + 1)
as evidence of this
too long a verbal
season of victory.
Make no mistake,
among the guilty we be,
our sweet tooth
for these miscreants,
documented in black and white,
resting uncomfortably,
among our total of
171,500 words we've purportedly
recorded and employed.
The Writer's Guild,
all a titters, arms, up and akimbo,
the cries of poetry poverty
among the living thundering,
no longer
suffering silently,
ere the mendicancies cries
from Ye Olde York emanating,
seeking contributions
and donations,
minimum on PayPal,,
one whole dollar!
Well I have paid my dues,
much more than one
and much more than once,
would so again, annually,
as I could no more
surcease this gig,
for where to find
another profession that
pays so handsomely?
Let it not go unnoticed
like so many poems
left footed born,
themselves, unread, unnoticed,
that the ever increasing number of
Poets
is a good thing for the universe.
So many new humans each day,
from the black forest of
daily life's lessons emerge
choosing poetry to
conquer life's ailments.
For they bravely
having taking the
*road less traveled by,
and that has made all the difference,*
and the world,
a better place for it...
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 4:49 PM UTC