"harshly" poems
when people are in love
they often say
they simply fell
tripped over their own two feet
face forward
and into the arms of their beloved
i did more than simply fall
onto the ground of your love
you, for me
were an ocean
and i dived
headfirst
roughly
harshly
almost painfully
into the waters of “you”
i knew i could not swim
but i did so anyway
i was drowning
entangled in you
surrounded by this being of “you”
engulfed in this feeling of “you”
and i did not know what came over me
but i let myself drown
i did not try to swim back up
because if i went back to land,
releasing myself from your grasp
that would mean losing the feeling of “you”
and after
submerging into the depth
the love
the passion
of “you”
how could i ever leave?
Feb 18, 2018
Feb 18, 2018 at 2:10 AM UTC
Don't speak harshly,
Your words will form swords in me
Touch my cheek; speak gently,
And they will form worlds in me
Apr 20, 2019
Apr 20, 2019 at 3:51 PM UTC
Biology has no conscience
It doesn't care about love
It cares about reproduction
Biology does not care if someone gets hurt in the process
Biology does not care if he was your boyfriend
Fiance
Husband
Biology has no sympathy
Lust is not the same as love
But often it is mistaken as such
4 letters
3 out of the 4 make all the difference
You are part of an on going experiment
Observed by a classroom of billions
Constantly watching
Constantly scrutinizing
Harshly graded by a force that you couldn't comprehend
Don't try to change this
People have tried to change this for longer than you could imagine
Embrace it
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 1:20 AM UTC
A girl, a woman, lover, friend,
liking me more than she should.
I want to love someone again,
I know she wishes I would.
I love the joy and pain of her,
our hearts are an open book.
My wounds are fresh from this mad world,
when life was harshly shook.
Portrait eyes are such a treat,
looking up at this new man.
Simply, silly, kind and sweet,
She reminds me who I am.
Her witness down inside of me,
exposure to all my tools.
Teaching each other honesty,
we're reinventing the rules.
She has a look she can't disguise,
whenever I look her way.
Optimistic hopelessness in her eyes,
bittersweet each day.
Nov 14, 2018
Nov 14, 2018 at 7:01 PM UTC
Dear Kailey,
Polyamory was not our downfall
I changed as a person
Much quicker than I anticipated
So I can imagine it felt
Catastrophic to you
Polyamory was not our problem
But it did highlight the ones we had
The reason I left you
Primarily was due to codependency
But more than that
It was your inability to compromise
I told you I needed space
You said you needed me
And that was the end of that conversation
When we tried to create boundaries
To help our adjustment to poly
What you gave me were rules
And when I tried to alter them slightly
You told me I was not compromising
I made my own mistakes too
Neither of us are perfect
And I'm not writing this to hurt you
This is for me alone
Because I've been blaming only myself
Since that night your parents took you home
Because you were blaming me
Or too harshly blaming yourself
It's not as black-and-white as that
This is not an attempt at
Relinquishing myself of blame
This is a bare acknowledgement
For me
That I am not bad
Even if I've done bad things
And I am not responsible
Solely
For your pain
I am sorry for my part in it
But I cannot
And will not
Let this responsibility weigh me down alone
Because I matter too
And it wasn't easy for me either
But it's OK
To love and care for someone
Without being in relationship with them
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 4:11 PM UTC
"QUIT."
"QUIT."
"QUIT!"
Is all that I can think!
Quit stomping!
You're creating unwanted anxiety.
Why are you walking so harshly!?
Are you, maybe, angry?
I don't want to know.
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 2:29 PM UTC
What you could not tell me;
as distinct as a infant's cry,
was why?
Had the torture within you
rattled the bars and forced
you to plead sweet ignorance?
Would you have understood
an alibi, had I delivered it
to you in homonyms?
Were we a pair, had we pared?
Or did one of us bite too harshly
on the pear?
Or would you continue with
me, the way you knew how...
artfully coy, and full of deception?
and then, I realized
I knew... had always known
and therein is the rub
that has left me bare, a bear,
a grizzly discovery.
Mar 3, 2011
Mar 3, 2011 at 9:43 AM UTC
thus by prosecutor charg-ed, with this crime so heinous~ed,
the judge insisted on a super speedy trial, this, a special case-d
"can't wait to hang this ***** be~deviler,
got me a jail, second only to hell,
if he thinks his hifalutin lawyers will get him de-roped!"
I plead guilty to save the state some moola,
avoid the expense of all the attendant hoopla,
but in my tired defense, I said little but this,
it was god who cursed me with this word-ly power!
now I ain't saying I was naturally bad,
but who are you to judge me so harshly ,
when all I did, with a tool god~given, was,
tell people how beautiful they are, so close.
never far, from bringing them forth to their fruition
so my intentions were good, tho my goose is cooked,
loonily, this I truthfully willingly confess, though just as bad,
I was lazy, I was negligent, I am now hell-bent for many
infractions, the greatest, chiefest of them all, was all the times,
!!!!!
***read a poem much beloved by other's on this blue earth,
weak from jealousy jealous, I never...reposted it! for their way
much better than mine, and I was too selfish to praise them,
so I expect I won't be too lonely in perdition, just another poet***
!!!!!!!! addition
*so children, teach your children well
a poet's hell will slowly go by, if they
fail to repost them hundreds of poems
that mak'em gasp~laugh-just plain weep,
for that will really **** (sorry lord) the one
true judge wh gave us this wordy blessing,
and is eagerly awaiting us special*
sinners
and that just might be my one true name…
(Oh sinner~man!
where are you gonna run too)
[{(]})]
p.s. this poem readily available to be reposted ('jes a 'gestion)
even
plagiarized elsewhere, but remember, when you, who stole it,
somebody's a~watching whose
vision is unimpaired.
plus, I got new software invented by Ai trained teachers,
so so, easy to find ya...
Sep 28, 2025
Sep 28, 2025 at 5:14 PM UTC
Lemons- in fanfictions, a gritty or ****** scene.
I watched your Adam's apple bob
As you swallowed your arousal.
My head was swirling with the scent of lemons,
And I couldn't help myself
As I tottered towards you on my intoxication,
Inebriation.
My hands hit your chest,
And in our unsteadiness,
My extra push sent us tumbling...
Down onto the Citrus yellow sheets of your bed
My mouth on your neck,
Wanting only to taste your Lemon sweat.
Your eyes wandered freely,
And your hands soon followed.
Touching my *******
The perky *******
You put your mouth on one,
Extracting from it some sour mix of sweetness,
The lemon in my veins.
We mashed together,
Your member against my cavity,
Pictures of lemons in my mind.
Your hand round my throat,
You began to speak harshly,
Lemon tainting your soul.
The acid in your words,
Acid on your fingernails as they tore my skin...
It hurt,
But it hurt like the beautiful Lemons that brought me here.
You put yourself in me,
Again and again
You forced my body into submission.
My tears burned with the citrus,
My eyes now yellow,
Like the lemons.
In this lighting,
Your skin looked yellow too,
I could almost say your head was a lemon...
Pain resurfaces,
Blood,
The sensation that something was flowing into me,
I knew your lemon juice had filled my pitcher,
Now it was available for drinking.
And you did,
You drank your lemon juice with my sugar,
Lemonade of us two.
Pleasure rocked my body,
And I felt your lemon invading me.
But you yourself,
You were drawing it out of me.
My walls pulled in,
They clenched,
I let out a shrill.
The smell of our lemon sweat
Once again,
Pervading the room.
You collapsed beside me,
The drug wearing off,
Lemons exiting your mind already.
I wasn't done though.
I'm still obsessed.
Still obsessed with lemons.
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 6:26 AM UTC
(Inspired by the song Blood Sweat & Tears by BTS)
I indulge in the sweet chocolate
That is none other than
The Devil's wings on your back
Knowing that it will poison me harshly
Please **** me softly
So that the worry
Of losing you
Is taken along with my breath
As I follow you further
I get drunk on you
Allowing your whiskey
Deep into my throat
You've stripped me of my existence
Spilling all of my blood
And pouring my sweat and tears
Into small broken mason jars
Why do I bother to run
When I can't escape this prison
Being hunted like an animal
Just to be tied up again
Promise me that
I will keep being poisoned
As long as before I go
I get one last chance
One last dance with you
Before I am
Stripped of my existence
Again.
Oct 27, 2017
Oct 27, 2017 at 1:14 PM UTC
one
Be gentle, because they don’t know any better. I know that you’re the child, and I know that you’re scared, and I know that it isn’t your job to be gentile or kind but I also know that being gentile is easier than being angry.
two
Make sure to give up your heart and soul first. Take your feeling and put them into a box, and shove that box far away because God knows that they’ll only heart them anyways.
three
Read well and often. Send your mind into a new, completely different world for a little while. You need it. We all need it.
four
Learn how to be distant. Learn how to love from afar. Being close will only hurt more in the long run.
five
The most important part of loving an alcoholic is loving you first. You are not your parent’s mistakes. You are not what caused them to break so harshly that they turned to a bottle rather than a book, a drink rather than their daughter.
I learned how to love an alcoholic before I learned to love myself. And to this day, I’m still learning.
Oct 22, 2017
Oct 22, 2017 at 9:36 PM UTC
The days are going by
The birds still fly high
I'm getting pretty nervous
I'm not gonna lie
And all the birds cry,
"Don't take me away"
I promise I'll stay
I'll be a better person
Than I was yesterday
I promise to do my best
Maybe more but never less
With this pencil in hand
It's time to confess,
For you to know the rest
Of the life that I've been livin'
Your word has been given
That you won't harshly judge
The words I have written
With life I am currently smitten
And all the birds cry,
"Don't send me away"
I promise I'll stay
I'll be a better person
Than I was yesterday
At a faraway boarding school
I'll be confined to new rules
It's not something I want
But something you choose
Myself I won't lose
And all the birds cry,
"Don't send me away"
I promise I'll stay
I'll be a better person
Than I was yesterday
I promise to do my best
Maybe more but never less
With this pencil in hand
The time to confess
Is now.
Jan 24, 2013
Jan 24, 2013 at 2:04 AM UTC
i bought a pack of cigarettes tonight, even though my lungs don't work quite right.
i sat on the stairs in the yard of the old house with its walls crumbling,
with its facade turned to dust.
the air was so cold it stung my fingers, frost licking my face,
turning my cheeks blood-red but nothing hurt
as much as you do.
i smoked a cigarette tonight, even though my lungs don't work quite right.
the smoke filled me up and i feared
it would leak out of all the holes you punched in me.
it didn't. i choked and i coughed and it felt a little like drowning.
like your mouth on my mouth, like your teeth on my neck.
i choked and i coughed and it felt a little like you
so i liked it.
who cares i almost died.
i smoked a second cigarette tonight, even though my lungs don't work quite right.
nicotine ran in my veins,
blue rivers along my pale skin and it felt, it really felt
a lot like love. a lot like you. a lot like us.
galaxies scattered across my skin, poison running in my blood,
yes, it felt a lot like us.
i didn't choke this time, but i think you would have laughed
at the way i ******
on the cigarette ****
i smoked a third cigarette tonight, even though my lungs don't work quite right.
i swallowed cancer like a drug and it stung
at the back of my throat, and it burned and it burned and it burned
as ash gathered at the burning end
and fell to the ground like snowflakes,
little flakes of ash on my sneakers
and it reminded me of your kisses a little, i didn't choke this time.
i laughed. a bitter laugh.
you hurt at the back of my mind as i put
the cigarette out and i thought about the way
you'd look at me, boldness in your eyes, hair a little all over
the place and your mouth
shaped in a little "o"
as you blew circles of smoke out.
i smoked a fourth cigarette tonight, even though my lungs don't work quite right.
the cold stung but not as much as my lungs burnt and my brain burned
and you hurt.
i blew smoke out but never quite like you did,
and i thought it looked and was a little
ridiculous maybe
to burn the leaves of a plant wrapped in paper
and fill our fragile bodies with the exhausts
we breathe out smoke like broken steam engines,
ain't it funny, haha.
you'd laugh, harshly, you'd bite me, you were always
a little rough.
i smoked a fifth cigarette tonight, even though my lungs don't work quite right.
it's not half as venomous as you were, i decided.
i put it out.
cigarettes are so not worth the hype.
you were.
you are.
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 12:39 PM UTC
this swifter's grift -
lifting loosely
fitted accoutrement
lourden fruit
carelessly held
silkened, gimlet lit
shamelessly rivened
to a paler shade
of need.
solitude's
enchanting seed
may confer
a grander banquet’s call
but, this tug of
grandiloquent oblige
and politesse . . .
master and slave consort
black and scarlet
swift of tongue and fingertip
unbound so neatly
and leather blind
tell me muse of the anger flesh on fire
is there really dignity in defeat
that eludes the victor
tell me muse of the truth in nature
ill-graced tail-lamp broken
is destiny all ways ordained in contradiction
tell me muse do hearts all times submit
to the beacon call
shyness long forgotten
narrative so harshly written
as ne'er before
with an insistence
ageless yearnings bellow
as but glazened shadow
if reason sleeps
there will be no learning
no refuge
only to each
for their crimes
a four-chambered riddle
All Rights Reserved
James R. Morse, NYC 2013.
Sep 12, 2013
Sep 12, 2013 at 7:05 PM UTC
if words are food for the mind,
then here is a glimpse of mine
if words are drugs for the brain,
then here is why i'm so pained.
abandoned, abhorrent
abnormal, absent
abstract, abuse
addicted, anxious
betray, bitterly
blank, blasphemy
bloodless, breakdown
breathless, brutal
captive, casually
catastrophe, cautiously
change, cigarettes
crucial, clueless
damaged, dangerous
deadly, disastrous
disheartened, disconcerting
dramatic, dreading
eager, eccentric
ecstasy, eerie
effete, effortless
embittered, excess
faded, failure
faintly, fallacy
faltering, fatally
fearfully, finally
garbage, gawky
gibberish, gloomy
gone, goodbye
graphic, gratify
hallucinate, harshly
hazy, heartless
hectic, helpless
hesitant, hit-and-miss
idiotic, idly
ignorant, intimacy
illogical, imaginative
infatuated, intoxicated
jealousy, jittery
journey, journal
joylessly, judicial
junk, juvenile
keen, killing
knavish, knocking
knockout, knotty
knowingly, knowledge
laborious, lacking
lame, languishing
lifeless, literature
lovelorn, lugubrious
madness, maintenance
make-believe, malaise
mean, melancholic
mellow, melodramatic
naff, naivety
nameless, naturally
nauseous, nebulous
neglected, nervous
oasis, objectionable
obliged, obliterate
oblivion, obscurity
obsolete, one-and-only
pacifist, pained
pale, panicky
paradise, paralyze
passionately, passively
raging, ranting
rationalize, raving
realistic, reasonable
rebellious, reckless
saboteur, sadness
sake, sameness
sanity, satisfactory
scar, steady
taint, tangled
tasteless, tearful
telling, temperamental
terror, theoretical
unaffected, uncanny
uncommon, unconsciously
undesirable, uneasy
unfortunate, untidy
vaguely, vanish
vanity, vanquish
versatile, vicious
violence, voracious
waiting, waking
walkout, wanting
wasteful, weary
withering, wrecking
if words are food for the mind,
then you've seen a glimpse of mine
if words are drugs for the brain,
then no wonder i'm so pained.
-djs
Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 11:21 PM UTC
My dad was the greatest of men
I wish I would of gotten more time with him
Time has sure done it's shading
I hate to say his face is fading
His voice has long ago slipped from my memory
The sadness of that is sheer agony
I miss you as much today
As that sorrowful day you where taken away
You left this world way to soon
I still remeber that hospital waiting room
I was to late, death had already greeted you
I was only fourteen I didn't know what to do
I stood there crying in my sisters arms
I knew I would forever miss your fatherly charms
As I stood beside your open coffin
Tears spilling onto my dress, I felt like an orphan
Knowing I would never again see you smiling face
Your death was so hard to embrace
It was a gray rainy day you where placed in the ground
Setting under the cemetery tent no comfort to be found
Thinking even the angels on high
Could do no more than cry
You had been my hero, I was a daddy's girl
And my life from this point would do nothing but unfurl
I was, and still am so lost without your presence
I missed you at so many of my lifes great events
At all of my children's births
I thought of you first
And how you would of beamed with pride
At the thought I just cried
But as my memory, with time harshly shades
My love for you will never fade
I carry you forever in my heart
Like I was in yours from the start
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 9:28 PM UTC
There are some people,
Who will always do the right thing.
These are the people, though,
That seem to judge others, so harshly.
good people, you see things so clearly,
Too clearly.
Surely, one mistake, however monumental
Doesn't warrant condemnation, evermore?
I want to be with the baddies, right now, because I am one.
I feel like a pantomime villain.
I want to hang out with Snow White's evil stepmother, or the Ugly Sisters,
Down tequila with the Wicked Witch of the West.
Fit company, for me.
Not really,
I don't believe that, but in my darkest moments,
I do feel like a monster.
Whose moral code did I defy?
And does it matter? What does it matter,
I don't care what matters, any more.
Just call me Cruella, and **** me to Hell,
It's nothing I'm not doing to myself, already.
Drop a house on me,
(The ***** is dead)
Ding ****
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 4:39 PM UTC
Maybe my writing
Will improve
When strewn over
Blue lined graph paper,
Tiny boxes,
Coaxing out order,
Perhaps even
Clarifying boundaries
Between crazed truth,
And detrimental lies.
The grid putting
Poem in context,
Poem like graph,
Displaying
Levels of THC
Depression
Number of Kisses
Tears Cried
Outliers of secrets uttered.
Box and whisker plot
Displaying anxiety,
Skewed data toward extremes.
No.
Linear writing would
Reveal the chaos inside.
I can't fit the poems
To the squares.
A graph can't really cry
The way a person can.
There's a losing feeling
Etched in pen
On a harshly graded
Parcel of mathematical quizzing
That a poem has no place to
Instill in me.
And no one would
Be able to read my work
The way they tell you to show it.
My poems have no color coding.
Definition between data
Becomes hazy as
Layers of black are added
In empty,
All encompassing anger.
And I smoke while I write tonight,
Haze growing,
Lines wobbled,
And I may have put a poem
On a piece of graph paper
But it's nothing like the math homework
That stays in my backpack.
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 12:10 PM UTC
I cried for two years.
every day, all day.
Cara wanted to marry me.
I was hesitant. At that time,
I didn't know why.
Much later, when I was
in therapy, I came to realize
that, in the past, I unconsciously
feared that if I married,
most likely we would
have children, and quite
probably, we would have
a boy, and unconsciously
I feared I would treat
my son the same way
my father had treated me.
My father had treated me
harshly. He never told me
he loved me. I will spare you
the details. Cara grew increasingly
angry toward me for another year.
She used jealousy to try to
get me to marry her. She
swam in her swimming pool,
but when she dried off, I saw her
bruised ***** which I knew
I had not caused. When I saw
it, I went into shock and suffered
involuntary kundalini, which lasted
six years. After all those years
of excruciating pain, I finally
recovered. All this happened
45 years ago, but some days
I feel as though it happened
yesterday.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Jun 9, 2025
Jun 9, 2025 at 5:18 PM UTC
How do you know who I am
Or what I stand for
I look ordinary
No dreadlocks
No paintings on my body
No rings piercing my ear
My eyes aren’t weary yet
My skin is white
I am educated
I have a piece of paper
I wear cotton clothes
Black pants
A clean shirt
I look like I am comfortable
That suffering is foreign to me
So what is it that I can say
When my identity is so plain?
But who must declare themselves openly?
Is it the man who has decided he has become all there is to be?
Is it the man who is unsure of the facts of life that he reads?
Is it the man who gives up his ambition to be what does not pay?
Is it the man who tells everyone the streets are where there are real men?
It is him who suffers most who becomes the angry man
It is him who becomes angry that is liberated
It is him who is liberated who can tell the truth
And so what do I tell you?
I am not him
I have no right to be angry
I have no right to be liberated
I have no right to tell the truth
Is that my identity?
No right to speak harshly of oppression
No right to speak harshly of poverty
No right to speak harshly of hunger
And it is true
I am not oppressed
I am not poor
I am not hungry
So I cannot pretend to be any of these things
I cannot pretend to have that connection
Who do I have the nerve to be?
So I spin a tale that I imagine of a life that I know exists
I think about what it would be like to watch an angry man
I think about what it would be like to watch a poor woman
I think about what it would be like to watch a migration
I think about what it would be like if I lost everything
I think about what it would be like to give everything away
Then I know
And I am ashamed
I know I would not survive
And so it is not because I am not poor
It is because I wouldn’t know how to live
Like they are able to live
Without hope
But with life
Without respect
But with pride
Without relevance
But with identity
Because they know who they are
The chosen ones
Who have the right
To smirk at those of us who visit the poor on a field trip
And then go home and forget
Forget them
While they remember us
The soulless ones
Without the knowing of anything
Without the knowing of how to live
Without the knowing of survival
Without the knowing of will
Without the knowing of who we are
Aug 24, 2015
Aug 24, 2015 at 9:48 PM UTC
I see the sunrise over sin,
Repress what I did once again.
Shadows me like its prey,
Lurching out of me eagerly.
I see the sunrise over sin,
It’s boiled over once again.
Scolding from white hot shame,
My guilt has the power to lame.
I see the sunrise over sin.
Push it down before it begin.
The moon rise over blame,
She brings clarity and aim.
I see the sunrise over sin,
Connects us all a kin.
Judge others harshly without perceptivity,
Ignorant of the hypocrisy.
I see the sunrise over sin,
Should **** someone but who’s in?
Let’s all perish together again,
Cleanse this place of our contagion.
I see the sunrise over sin.
Let’s live samsara again.
Improve from the last time.
Not just a rhyme.
Nov 13, 2019
Nov 13, 2019 at 11:26 AM UTC
. Father, I have seen you
haunting my footsteps,
judging harshly my own
actions, and I fear that
I will follow the way
you have chosen for me.
But that path, however
narrow, is not where my
heart lies, and so on
I go, my own way. Will
you forgive me? Or,
perhaps, when all is said
and done, the question
to be answered is,
can I forgive you?
Feb 13, 2011
Feb 13, 2011 at 5:12 PM UTC
Oh Selfie Selfie Selfie!
You're taken here and taken there
Anywhere and everywhere
In random poses we prefer.
From wide smile and duck face
To looking cute and being fierce
Searching for the right angle
In order to catch the likers.
Some say you show too much vanity
But who are they to judge so harshly?
When all you want is for them to be happy
And express themselves perfectly.
Krystal Marcelo
01/18/2016
Jan 18, 2016
Jan 18, 2016 at 9:37 AM UTC
he was walking very fast pace
as if he was scared to lose in a race
but this wasn't a race, what was missing?
maybe someone he desires to be kissing?
i took steps forward, my eyes met a kind face
but how come when he turned around i saw a black rag in his mouths place?
liquid hues poured out of my head in deep confusion
is this the man in front of me only a delusion?
i tugged at it, and discovered his lips were sown together by purple thread
worried for his soul, his eyes and lips bled
he clench my wrists, chained them and injected my hips
i didn't know where i was going but i entered a lunar eclipse
i woke up as a light flickered and then focused on me
they stripped me of comfort, and placed lingerie on my intoxicated body
"four thousand?" " five thousand?" that's what i heard from a deep voice
"Sold for 5,000!" i was enslaved by a man, I didn't have a choice
blind folded, i counted the seconds it took to reach this location
i heard screams, moans, and violence. it was a workstation
he threw me in a tiny room and locked me out, no where to run and hide
i lie on a ****** bed, exhausted, and being tied
i saw a blur? a man, he stormed in and locked the door behind him
i tried my best to get him off me but i was too weak and the light was dim
tied down, no escape only submission to a man who doesn't have a name
numb and barely living, he slid harshly in between my legs, i couldn't scream, i couldn't cry, then he came
~a.h.
May 10, 2016
May 10, 2016 at 4:31 PM UTC