"idealize" poems
We are always trying to become equal
what makes it so special?
That is unique to human nature
to idealize and to hope
And yet,
life isn't fair.
And nature doesn't pretend otherwise
Neither should we.
The lion doesn't starve
to protect the endangered zebra.
No matter how much we fight nature,
We can’t control it.
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 8:32 PM UTC
My poems idealize your tongue on my tongue
your breath in mine,
these verses will romanticize how we skipped from street to street
our arms swinging between your left hip and my right
like I did not think about how my parents
never doubled their strength to pull me up above ground as
we walked through parking lots. I
needed to fly and no adult could let me but you.
The sudden hurt, I have not yet dramatized that morning
you returned my voicemail unsuspecting
unknowing my intention to whisper I hate you I hate you I hate you.
Every bone in my body had broken because we could not
levitate any longer: you were not even strong
enough to keep yourself grounded. I make you sound beautiful
I make you sound ugly, but neither is real, just as
how there are no words for the New Year ball dropping.
Jun 13, 2013
Jun 13, 2013 at 5:01 PM UTC
I flowed into the dark blue ocean of symbols.
Just yesterday,
I walked with heavy footsteps,
well-grounded.
But once again,
an irresistible force lifted me.
I wanted to see what was above.
Then I came back,
changed,
less happy,
a part of me scattered
in that an alternative universe.
Now, worlds overlapping appear,
The sun is shining with different light.
Words change their meaning.
The fog thickens so,
I can no longer see fissures
under my feet.
Step by step, carefully,
I try to pass through
a dimension of forgotten dreaming.
I don’t want to be stuck
inside an illusion for too long.
Looking at my heart still glowing,
devoured by some voices,
bite by bite, crumb by crumb.
They come in need,
then dissolve like ghosts.
How can one love,
under the heavy weight of knowing—
with Lapis Lazuli pressed
against my chest?
I don’t want to vanish
into sticky spider webs
into formal language
that is too cold,
too detached.
Two forces fight inside me
To see the truth, even if it hurts,
or to close my eyes,
and idealize brutal reality.
Looking in the distorted mirror,
observing love quivering on the verge.
And thus, the Earth becomes the theater.
The cynical facades ******
with pretended freedom,
taking every hour,
every month,
every year,
into
PROGRESSIVE
DE…HUMANIZATION
Jun 25, 2025
Jun 25, 2025 at 12:47 PM UTC
From the womb we are taught to idealize the prospect of employment...and everything that comes after is done in attempt to attain a job
All the years of school...the pre-job jobs...the extra curricular activities that sparkle like a diamond among shattered glass or dreams on a CV
because employed is secure...
employed is safe...
employed is smart...
employed is successful
Your mom was hoping you would be an accountant like her but daddy thought you'd be a better scientist...so they made you do everything and by the time you realized that you didn't want to do any of those things...you had spread yourself so thin that the wind carried you in every direction and non of them was right...
That didn't really matter as long as you made enough to live in comfort...luxury is like the coin you find under your pillow in return for your fallen tooth...except instead of teeth it's your dreams that you have to trade in...
Because unemployed is unstable
Unemployed is without purpose
Unemployed is poor
Unemployed is a failure
So it doesn't really matter what you are...just as long as you're not unemployed.
Jun 13, 2018
Jun 13, 2018 at 2:47 PM UTC
I often idealize others, especially when I first meet them, and feel comfortable in sharing the most intimate details
with them. But I often feel that these same people don’t care enough and aren’t there enough for me.
© Copyright Tyler Atherton
Oct 28, 2018
Oct 28, 2018 at 1:37 AM UTC
I learnt to tie my shoes
I learnt to ride my bike
I learnt to smoke
I learnt the vulnerability of fully exposing an idea
I learnt to tie my shoes
I learnt to adapt my behavior in the light of others' actions.
I learnt the difficulty of sustaining the hopes of youth.
I remember a French girl with an English name.
'Leave me now, return tonight,' she told me every morning, and I did.
I remember an English girl with an French name.
We were the circle that no one could break, or so I thought.
Yesterday I was there.
Today I am here.
The two are light years apart.
I dance with a friend,
holding her hand realize,
how disconnected I have become,
from the simple beauty of touch.
I return and sense,
that things are not the same as before,
but feel had I stayed,
everything would likely seem the same.
Your words touch me.
Your thoughts excite me.
I want to try all that.
Explore everything with you.
Alone.
All one.
If and but and maybe and whatever.
I hate those words.
Everything doesn't have to be perfect.
To idealize is also a form of suffering.
------ by Julian Hibbard
st...26 march 2014
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 11:24 AM UTC
Hide me from myself in the endless forests.
Cleanse my mind in the gentle ocean.
Blow away my hesitation in the canyon's wind.
Grow my life's satisfaction in the bright green valley.
Make me whole in the unmarred fields.
Release these cold thoughts in the woeful glaciers.
Vent my uncertainties in the ominous swamps.
Idealize my peace in the waterfalls.
Present to me solitude in the tundra.
Simplify my existence in the plains.
Show me contemplation in the caves.
Show me truth in the sky.
Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 4:59 AM UTC
I turn people into gods,
I'm upset when they have flaws.
Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 6:41 PM UTC
That is what poets do
They romanticize pain
They idealize the torment
There is solace in darkness
Which they craft to enlighten;
Lure with words
The forlorn is adorned
Guilt is charming
Mistakes rewarding
That part that is revolting
The best line in their poems.
That is what poets do
They embellish heartbreak
To cement the heartache
But as soon as they leave their paper
and beautiful words captivated readers
Life can no longer render
The adequate metaphor
Agony is agony;
There is no substitute for it.
Oct 16, 2015
Oct 16, 2015 at 8:25 AM UTC
No podemos pretender ser robots por siempre,
No somos maquinas, la sangre corre entre nuestras venas,
nos picas y no reaccionamos,
Repito que no somos de metal,
Estamos construidos sobre los huesos de nuestros antepasados,
Criados con la carne de nuestras victimas, y eso tristemente nos alegra,
Aunque pretendemos ser plasticos y sintizados,
Somos todos de una substancia frágil,
aunque se idealize un mecanico o una postiza,
cuando todo se acabe,
Cuando nos veamos a base de quien somos en realidad,
nos daremos cuenta de lo débil, de lo exagerado que es nuestro especie,
No tenemos ni la capacidad de ser hormigas,
Ya, no podemos pretender ser robots.
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 1:42 AM UTC
The truth is I don't want to be a lingering after thought. A space that fills void. An unattainable purge of what you have been lacking. A comma in the break of a sentence, I've been in to many situationships to idealize anything less than romantic. To many almost & could have been something's. It's like a reflection of the sun but the heat never dissipates close enough for me to know it's real. The existence of it leaves my soul aching in hunger even though my belly is full. Maybe that's the difference of it, getting high off sugar and the other endorphins. One the body can sustain, the other just a flicker of a high that last as long as the burst of affection. To be desired is a supernova of lust. It's a star that burned out centuries ago but the light still fools you into believing it's present. To be loved is like the moon and all of its phases because even when the moon shows up in parts, you know it's wholly still there. Still yours. Still will rise again tomorrow.
Mar 22, 2021
Mar 22, 2021 at 12:24 AM UTC
some of the “greats” are walking among us
making eye contact upon our sidewalks
sharing sweaty seats on our buses
eating tempeh and salad at our cafés
lying next to us, sleeping, in our beds
we shop at their record stores
throw dollars in their guitar cases
curse their driving on our freeways
art and history are presently in motion
the past is just the place where we idealize them
Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 12:34 PM UTC
the romantics
after meeting you
will idealize love
the poets
after loving you
will romanticize loss
Apr 9, 2022
Apr 9, 2022 at 4:32 PM UTC
when I tell him about you...
i'm not going to lie.
i'm not going to tell him
you were a good man that wanted him
but couldn't find a way.
that would be a lie.
when I tell him about you...
i'm going to do my best to be honest
without breaking his little heart
the way I once thought you broke mine.
what would be the point?
when I tell him about you...
i will tell him about all the times
you made me feel happy, but not that
every one of those moments were dripping in guilt.
i want him to know you were good once.
i'll tell him you were in the military
i'll tell him you were a brilliant story-teller
that built beautiful intricate worlds that twisted and turned
just like our lives did when we met.
even better, i'll tell him how we met
over a D&D table surrounded by people
and how much hurt we could've avoided had we left the
friendship in the fantasy world our characters thrived in...
maybe i'll leave the nerdy bits out though...
when i tell him about you i will make sure he knows your name, i'll make sure he knows enough to paint a picture in his mind and hold on to, not to idealize but just to know. you were good once. But i hope to God he never finds you. i hope he never feels the way i do about you, full of resentment and disdain because you chose elsewhere instead of here with our son.
My son.
He deserves more than you could ever have given him anyway.
Mar 13, 2018
Mar 13, 2018 at 11:25 PM UTC
This is not a poem to idealize you, but
I remember your body well.
I miss how soft your skin was, the way it smelled
like your bed, back home when we…when you
would hold and kiss me lightly.
I hadn’t loved you then.
You were a stranger, with new paint and gold embroideries,
a beautiful boat in a safe harbor.
No, I did not love you then.
It was when I could see my fingerprints on your windows,
the scuff marks on the floors,
and the nights I’d hear you creek and moan.
It was when I felt the dulling of the brass
on the railings I used most often,
the day I memorized the placement of every
chip of paint, and ugly barnacle.
I wish you felt the same.
When we met, I was far away
(I had not loved you then).
You saw my silhouette and imagined
a glowing vessel of gold and pearls,
delicate and wild.
I’m sorry to have disappointed you
with my wooden frame, and chipped paint.
The creaks and moans of a body at sea.
The parts I loved of you,
you didn’t wish to see in me.
So let me set aside the flowery words
the alliteration and simile.
Let me speak plainly.
You are a miserable self-fulfilling prophesy
riding on the coat-tails of sympathy
with an ego so self-righteous, so blind
that if you were handed a mirror,
you’d only see another stranger to criticize.
You wouldn’t know love if it hit you in the face,
And it has, on several occasions.
I now fully understand the stories
of women running you over with cars,
and screaming profanities from 2nd story windows.
You called them crazy, but,
I only wish I had the nerve to join their ranks.
You are a judgmental, emotional leech
squirming in your own self hatred and soiled clothes,
imposing your disparaging insecurities
onto the ones who try to clean you up.
So please believe me that when I say
**** you”
It is only because they have not created a word
powerful enough
to describe the sour taste your name leaves in my mouth,
or the sparks of hot metal it leaves
when it crosses my mind.
When I say “I never want to see you again”
It is only because I am so embarrassed
by your appearance in my recent past
that if you were to:
fall into a hole,
float out to sea,
or disappear into your own puckered ****
I would breathe a sigh of relief.
So, yes- I miss the way your skin smelled;
like your bed, sweet and sour.
but there are beds
with more loveable personalities
than you.
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 10:56 PM UTC
Love is never an accident.
Whether it be love at first sight,
Or whether it’s cause to lament.
If you fall in love it was right.
Each time we love we were meant to.
Whether it comes after a chase,
Or regret of the depths sent to.
To feel love is an act of grace.
The feeling of love never lies.
Whether you love somebody wrong,
Or someone you idealize.
Love and truth together belong.
Love is never an accident.
Whether it makes you feel guilty,
It’s always a gift Heaven sent.
Love is absolute purity.
Oct 24, 2018
Oct 24, 2018 at 12:15 PM UTC
Everything is heading to the big end
and what is left for you and me
It is only the ashes of a distant past
remains of a forest that we idealize
in our most heartfelt dreams
and more honest desires.
That our purpose
be sincere and honest
as were our dreams.
This is the end,
The end that embrace us
is the end of the road.
I hope
you remember
the green dreams...
Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 12:42 PM UTC
Your love is like the horizon,
perceived no matter where I stand,
unclear which world that it lies in,
in and beyond my outstretched hand.
Your love is like that distant line
where heaven meets the earthly plane,
the beginning of my sunshine
that bounds a limitless domain.
Your love is like the horizon,
connected wherever I go,
comfort I idealize in,
the only constant that I know.
Your love is like that distant line
that never will recede from view.
Surrounding me and only mine,
I’m there in the center of you.
Apr 29, 2019
Apr 29, 2019 at 8:44 AM UTC
Don't take me places
You know we can't go
I'll want to stay
You'll raise my hopes
I'm crushed by disappointment
I'm sick of seeing possibility
I'm sick of being told
"Don't want everything you see"
I'm willing to use some effort
To reach the highest slopes
But you won't even consider
So please don't raise my hopes
I'm fragile, I swear I am
I can't handle too many falls
I can't take to much hope
So don't raise mine at all
I can't seem to correctly explain
Just how hope can stab me through
Because I fight to be pessimistic
But when hope joins the fight, I lose
When I lose, I see options
I see every possibility
I see everything you won't
I see everything I need
I could idealize anyplace
If it so appealed to my hope
But I'll always be let down
I've grown used to these old ropes
So leave me be, I don't care
This is a downward, spiraling slope
And you must be a sadist, this is torture
Please, don't raise my hopes.
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 2:47 PM UTC
When feeling down, depressed, detached, isolated, or lonely, don’t forget everything you’re already a part of. Your family, your community, your country, the broader population of all humanity. Even if all of them leave you with a sense that you don’t belong, that you have no value, and that you are not worthy, remember that you’re not the first, nor the only, nor the last made to feel this suffering. Close your eyes for a moment, take a few deep breaths, and remember all that you do not see. Remember the all-pervading interdependence that weaves between all things. Remember the universe did not make an exception when bringing you to be, and you share an interconnected existence, same as everyone and everything. Remember that you are worthy and of value in the architecture of the universe and no one has the right nor the power to take that from you, not even you, and this is true, absolute, and forever it will be. Find yourself by knowing, feeling, observing, the others who smile in silent disdain, who wake up aching in their cores, rising to meet another day. Find yourself in those that have yet to come, for those that have yet to break, yet to despair. For it is there you’ll find yourself, in a place, in a time, preceded by all that is the past, amidst all that is current, so that you may find a way to ride the wave into the future and vibrate vibrantly for eternity. Find yourself in human history, the rise and fall of human societies, the historical human afflicted atrocities. Find yourself in the grand and universal architecture, for you are there, close your eyes, breath deeply, and may you see. May you find your strength, your will, your courage and let your heart be still. May you find it in yourself to take that torch, handed to you by those who battled doubt, were ostracized, those who before you, found a way out, to idealize, who against the darkened odds, kept on seeking better and brighter days. They’re waiting for you, but wish to see you flourish before you join them to perch upon eternity. Sometimes all they did was endure, and maintain dignity and grace. Or simply made attempts to change what many around them thought was just the way it would always be, who simply dreamed what those around them could not imagine, the ones who thought of you, who had yet to be, and your place in this universal scheme. Who found themselves in you and their hopes for all that you could be, who found themselves and let themselves believe. May you find yourself assured that simply being you is all you have to be and that it is okay, it is enough, and the universe will see. May you help carry forward the human legacy and bring forth humanity into a moralistic and heartfelt harmony.
Dec 30, 2019
Dec 30, 2019 at 11:55 PM UTC
The less I cry
The more you listen
When I pause
You gasp in suspense
I whisper goodnight
Your dreams scream my name
I remain silent
You idealize my thoughts
Silence is bliss
It make you clamorous
Feb 20, 2014
Feb 20, 2014 at 10:39 PM UTC
We have you
to remind us
how far we
have to go
and the
short distance
we have traveled
thus far.
Idealize
her black
face.
All
the wrinkles
are holy
valleys.
Her
brown eyes
pools of light
seeing all
of humanities
oceans of pain.
She did
not want
power,
possessions
or even to
speak about
her small
truths.
She wanted
only to
cure
and live
an example
of the
possibilities
that are
within us.
She made
her peace
with the
imbalance,
and
tragedies
of an
unjust world.
Working
to cure.
She
mastered
the cycles
of opposites,
with
understanding,
love and care.
There will always
be sickness
and the
need to cure.
We must
learn
we are
mortal
beings
no matter
how far
we have come
or
how great
we are.
An
imbalance
will
always
exist,
that is
the perfection
of God.
The domain
of humanity
is to step
into the breach
to mediate
and reconcile
our imperfections
with the
perfect measure
of God's
abundant love.
Many times
we mean well,
but we are
very limited
and are
incapable
of bringing
lasting peace
to our earth;
because
in the final times
we will
seek
to do
what
is best for
ourselves.
Mother Hale
only seeks
to do God's
work
for all people
for all time.
God bless you
Mother Hale.
Music Selection:
Mahalia Jackson,
Trouble of the World
Harlem
9/86
Mar 8, 2014
Mar 8, 2014 at 10:59 AM UTC