"imaginatively" poems
IS THERE A y.o.u!
Confidently waiting
Confidently hiding. comfortably chilling..
waiting On Nothing but Y.U.O to come along..
I'm relaxing in a tub filled with caressing roses.
Pampering..
Me soothingly preparing me!..
Enjoying me and this time getting to enjoy this new me and
who I've come to be.
Working with dedication, personally I'm sure your relating.
As your working On you too. And laboring hard day after day.
I'm not wasting this time till we are found.
Love waiting to unfold.
Its wanting to be released and be yours to keep and hold..
I'm here and sometimes I do feel that lonely.
Knowing your not holding..Me!
Yet I am enjoying this new Me!
I'm confidently enjoying.
I have my family and my friends and them I'm enjoying.
But can't wait to laugh and smile and be loved by Y.O.U.
Wondering thinking of what would it be like to touch on Y.O.U.
You..You.. You.. Feel the touch of you..
In my heart sometimes I have conversation with Y.O.U.
Thinking what If I never be found by you.
Then I'll be content to live imaginatively with you.
My perfected Y.O.U. Soul mate in you..Perfect for me kinda you.
Blessed to be tapping my fingers musically because of you.
Desiring.. confidently praying.. silently hoping there is this Y.O.U!
By SelinaSharday S.A.M. TM 2018
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 9:51 AM UTC
Do you...
Imagine my ****** expressions that match the nuances in my voice
Tell me of all the attention you get from other boys
Take deep trembling breaths just to hold back the tears
Feel the angry tides as you swallow your fears
Clutch your pillow tight and pretend that it's me
Let it soak up the drops as you sob quietly
Look at the moon adoringly as I do
Knowing that I see the same one too
Replay the words you heard me say
Read my words over and over, to get through your day
Cringe at the idea that we both have to hide
When really we want to spread our wings and glide
Sigh with despair when it all seems to fall apart
Pick on life's lashing when they start to smart
Picture me before sleep in bed as you lay
Let me run till slumber takes you away
Well up every time you miss
Close your eyes shut every time we kiss
Pace up and down as we share days' events
Try to be strong hearing each others' laments
Cover your face when you cry?
Grieve over time spent apart that fly on by
Take breaths in between words or in between sentences
Sigh deeply poring over our wild pretences
Blush red when sweet nothings you hear
Bite your lip when you need me near
Sing in your heart when you hear my voice
Dance secretly with me as your choice
Always think of different ways to sweep me off my feet
Rush of blood with the quickening of your heartbeat
Imagine the way I am as I do you
Get breathless when you say I love you
Feel a stab when we argue about nothing
Wasted words when much more needed saying
Weaken in the knees when for you I'd sing
Find catching yourself to stop yourself from buckling
Sit on the bathroom floor,
Only to let the shower pour
As you hug your knees to your chest
Assuring yourself that it's all for the best
Wish for a second just so you could see
With naked eyes and not imaginatively
Do you?
Because I do...
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 3:57 AM UTC
~For Mr. Lawrence Hall~
<>
you absolutely sure?
Now for sure I'm no expert, though did read the New Testament
Cover to cover, all in one sitting, for a Jesuit priest buddy,
yes my taste in friends is
Eclectic, like my poems, slightly at the fat tail of an
Abnormal curve,
i.e. turn my curse into a blessing,
Anyway, it strikes me that Jesus,
spent his time, full-time,
Solving for X,
and showed quIte an
imaginative thought/belief process,
And great creativity,
To obtain his answers...
Hoping I'm offending no one...unintentional for sure,
he is a
Heroic figure, kind and forgiving, what's not to like?
But he solved problems, multi variate, non linear, imaginatively,
Never threw in the towel on the truly complex, though., he never perceived himself as a mathematician, indeed his life was eXactly
That, solving humanity for the X,
the humanity in us,
So yeah, he didn't just say solve for X,
He just went about his day, solving solving solving...
salving, salving...
Jul 19, 2025
Jul 19, 2025 at 5:26 PM UTC
we have to realize our ideals shape our world
change our consumption fueled
capitalist mindset
of oppression, poverty, power
and aren't we all human?
why tear down other nations?
why tear down the trees,
Mother Earth - the heavens?
will our greed end?
we create our greed and why?
we can create
all we dream -
we have power, we have steam
we are trains,
imaginatively stuck to rails
of society;
what will i be?
will i marry?
will i have money?
when we are truly
h o v e r i n g
there are no chains
no restrictions
to our peace, serenity,
wholeness, oneness.
the only question
we need ask is:
will we be happy?
or
are we creating a world
in which our children
will even be healthy?
i fear.
i fear for the lives of many.
will we realize our power?
we must
for we are shifters
we are dreamers
we are artists, creators.
we are angels;
we are alive.
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 5:06 PM UTC
Into his lacy web of deceit
She was lured very cleverly
What started as a fusion of like minds
Soon took on strong emotional tones
He led, she followed rather docilely
Bowing to his every whim and fancy
They moved into a new neighbourhood
And life appeared peaceful and happy
Until some ghosts from his murky past
Were resurrected without warning
An abandoned wife and son turned up
At the doorstep with ample evidence
That he had been living a life of duplicity
Overnight her dreams were shattered
She wore a pained and very haunted look
How could she have been conned by him
In such a complete and perfect manner
He was a spider who knew the intricacies
Of spinning a web with attention to detail
It was so imaginatively done that even she
A woman of intellect had got ****** in
To his credit, had he not been recognised
Accidentally by an old rival visiting the area
His first wife would have never tracked him
They would still be living in his web of deceit
Feb 6, 2011
Feb 6, 2011 at 8:05 AM UTC
Under the sewers
Stay a race unknown
They've hidden themselves
So that we can't see
How good a people they are
And how bad a human we are
Under the sewers
Last among the village
A wee hamlet
Which inside is a wizard
Who is hated throughout their whole population
All coz he made a silly accusation
But insisted on a proclamation
That would divert them from devastation
Under the sewers
We're the children crying
Their tummies a aching
They mouths a shouting
Under the sewers
Of a great country
Is where many sit and sigh
This is where they hide for protection
From the above world
Where riches and material
Are valuable
And where deeds are left
And they treat many like vagrants
Under the sewers
were where my dreams would be
They would be out of the ordinary
Of course that's just a story
That I made up, imaginatively
Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 12:57 PM UTC
Such a manly man very rare
Dripping with forbidden
Luxuries.
Complexities bringing out the besties in me.
Owee
Owee
Touching places imaginatively.
At thoughts of beauty.
Guilty guilty..
Diamonds sparkly out shining reality.
I was driving to the store for some seasonings and something refreshing.
As the sunlight kept appearing rays of bright.
Pulling down my sun visor.
The heat of the evening. Gets hotter temps are steaming.
As my mind starts to reflect.
Trying hard to redirect.
Flowery thoughts best to forget.
Walking down grocery store isles.
Looking for black pepper, and onion powder.
As emotions inside scream for hearts attention gets louder.
I need to get some tomato sauce, parmesan cheese,
Feelings leave me alone please,
hearing that voice "come here baby I'm recalling.
Woman quit running suga your stalling.
He states I see you truly I've been going thru my own
lonely thangs I'm a man. Living day by day
working hard laboring with these hands. Meeting life demands.
Your cool such an Angel Brush me with cool wings.
I do compel.
I admit I fail. Just need water from glowing wells.
Mercy for me..
You run away from me.."
Guilty guilty ..please forgive me if I trouble.
I'm shopping isle hopping escaping. All I want is to find my own paper.
That will belong to the words I scribble on it by my own flavor.
Pen courting simple free good dots careful no out of the line spots.
Finally at the register ready to check out.
Tempting treats thoughts to grab them mind plots.
Don't grab any candy junk at the register. Keep it moving.
Guess who's entering.
As I'm exiting. Beautiful luxury manly casually strolling up to me.
@SelinaSharday_H.E.R POETRY S.A.M 2023
Apr 27, 2023
Apr 27, 2023 at 11:51 PM UTC
*The curious paradox is that when I accept myself just as I am,
then I can change.*
Carl Rogers
my hands can be so prosaic
uninterrupted in the mechanism of gestures
mindless, blinded, tired
of polishing the edge of the world
your hands and their delicate shiver
are used to behaving
trying to learn how to grasp the meaning,
the contours of the void in daylight
or why haters hate
(was it your fault or theirs?)
you are an unfinished landscape
of breaking points and hopeless moans,
oases of quietness, turning points and
electrical paths, buds of mystery
I know nothing about
still, there’s something teasing
written in between
such is coherence: a paradox
-two interlocking unwittingly-
irrational at one level
imaginatively reasonable at another
-reality is framed by negotiation with a god of silence-
two singularities conversing,
filling the air with space
: it is me is you
Like when you erase me perfectly
with a blink of an eye
tired or cynical
with yourself,
or when I crush you
like a manic avalanche in
midsummer day
-there is some madness in between-
after all
shame and shamelessness
cannot be understood
in binary codes
while humility and pride
are two faces of the same coin
it’s been written since day one
this matching choreography of turmoil inside
or just the pursued birth pains of self
-switch, twist, push, turn,
run, hide, split,
break, slip, cut
repeat, repeat, repeat –
the vertigo of life
rhyming imaginary possibilities
new gestures,
new proportions of light
and darkness
in the power of my hands
in the clarity of your voice
we approximate the truth of our last breath
grow old in stories within stories within the story
we tell ourselves to survive the crack of dawn
and so it goes:
the hero decrypting sunset
deepens the story
looking for
some freedom
to be
and I cannot look at you
without
the sonorous light
bearing tenderness
within
I set you free
in my blood
without knowing
if you stay
for today
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 5:31 PM UTC
They show us what it means
To be perfect
How we need to look
Beautiful
That's what we need to be
Perfect
Smile
Hair
Face
Clothes
Weight
They teach us
Jealousy
Not to be yourself
Picture perfect
They show us what it means
To be perfect
What we need to achieve
Smart
That's what we need to be
Perfect
Scores
Grades
Memory
Student
Ideas
They teach us
To exceed every expectation
To set high expectations
Academically perfect
They show us what it means
To be perfect
What we need to build
Creative
That's what we need to be
Perfect
Ideas
Words
Art
Thought
Product
They teach us
To be spot on
We can't make mistakes
Imaginatively perfect
They show us what it means
To be perfect
When sadly
They don't even know
Jul 14, 2013
Jul 14, 2013 at 3:37 AM UTC
a virtual frame imaginatively
borders a frivolous game
of finger paints smeared
into a caricature,
a name-less master
with childlike innocence
sculptured and formed
the symbols in pastels
and gray fingerprints
Jun 12, 2016
Jun 12, 2016 at 6:03 PM UTC
Way to bee!
As Humble walked with his parents into the bee nursery,
He saw the other proud parents with their own little bees.
Eventually the teacher said, excuse me parents,
I will have to ask you to say your goodbyes;
We must proceed with today’s event…
As the parents left and the larvae bees took their seats,
The teacher, Miss Softly-Spoken said
Today children we are going to have A Spelling Bee.
I would like you all to welcome The Spelling Tree!
The Spelling Tree walked in with a miserable face.
The Spelling Tree was Mr. Dictionary in a tree costume
And he didn’t like this place.
One day I will get away from here, you will see…
Now, now Mr. Spelling Tree, no need to bee grumpy.
A is for Air.
B is for Bee!
C is for Cloud, said Mr. Dictionary…
He really didn’t care anymore; he just wanted to leave;
But life in the hive wasn’t all fun and games.
You were given a job that you had to do every day
And this one was much better than his last position.
He was fired as a clown for not being happy enough…
The irony of misconception.
The rest of the day, the children played many games
And they all became friends in the end…
As the parents returned to collect their children,
The larvae were playing a game called,
‘Guess what I am meant to Bee!’
They were pretending to bee whatever they wanted to bee,
Imaginatively and figuratively.
Humble was buzzing his own little tune,
So out of sync with everybody.
The other children were trees and clouds and flowers and leaves!
Humble decided to pretend to bee a Bee.
He did it so well, nobody else could tell,
What he was pretending to bee.
As the families all left, Humble, of course, was last to leave.
His parents told him to say goodbye to Miss Softly-Spoken
And she said
“It was a pleasure to meet you today Mr. Humble B. Bumble…
Way to Bee!”
(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Jul 5, 2019
Jul 5, 2019 at 4:10 AM UTC
instead of sinning there would be a recess
where people all over the world every three hours or so just stopped
and played kickball or slid down the icy slide cataloguing how far
down the playground they slid
tied rubber bands together , thousands of them , attached a small
plastic airplane to it , stretched it far as it could go,
and flew it imaginatively, then went back to being grown up?
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 5:57 AM UTC
I love reading. My favorites are fantasy novels.
When I was in middle school and first starting to grasp the idea that one could read for fun --gross right?-- I read an awesome series called The Dragonriders of Pern, by Anne McCaffrey.
Man, what an amazing series for a young reader (soon to be aspiring writer, thank you Anne McCaffrey) to cut their teeth on.
It is intelligently and imaginatively written, adventurous, suspenseful, emotional, and like duh, it's got people riding dragons!
Well anyway, in the very first book one of the main characters is being attacked by an extremely large beast called a watch weyr, a genetic cousin of dragons bred for guarding castles.
At the very last instant, as the beast is pouncing upon our hero, the watch weyr realizes its intended target is actually one of the very people it was bred to protect.
In a desperate attempt to fling itself aside and spare the life of our hero, the watch weyr snaps its own spine, killing itself.
Now, this is no dog, it's a descendant of dragons, intelligent, sentient, and centuries-old. That killed itself to avoid hurting someone it didn't even know. Without a second thought.
Sometimes, not always or even most of the time, mind you, but sometimes...
I wish I had never read that book.
Apr 29, 2021
Apr 29, 2021 at 12:28 AM UTC
Joseph Bazalgette knew
about things people did,
like pooh
and to that very end
he built the great sewer
which apart from moving the pooh also
alleviated London from the stink
of the rich as well as the poor.
On the engineers seat
in the House on Greek street
he drew up his plans to
do away with bed pans as he
laboured alone in the night.
Thomas Crapper came to fame and
hardly because of his laughable name,
but his name became his fortune
and in the music halls of London town
people were soon to put a penny down
to spend a penny in the lavvy,
a savvy lad was Tom.
And they made old Joe a knight
for
funneling waste out of Londoner's sight,
they even had street lights that ran on
the gas
that floated down tunnels through
which the
waste had to pass
on its way to the sea.
It was a jolly good show
and a spiffing great plan
carried out quite imaginatively,
I can imagine the man
and his men way back then were
flushed to be
a part of
London's
lavatory
story.
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 7:06 AM UTC
This new step feels different
It feels like summer rain,
the warm droplets reassure me that the nights of endless sobbing has been taken over by the divine rain
It feels like dawn braking,
the hiding sun has taken center stage and awoken me from my slumber, supported by the imaginatively inspiring clouds
It feels like finishing a puzzle,
the pieces have finally fallen together and the landscape that I am destined to chart has been laid out by countless frustrating corner pieces
all that's left is to set sail on this new day leaving the rain behind
Aug 25, 2020
Aug 25, 2020 at 12:44 PM UTC
Why do we keep putting ourselves down
Believing in our own lies?
How creative are we to fool ourselves with our own words
Trusting them as realities.
Following my own set of rules to destruction,
Craving for validation and people to our own happiness,
When happiness is just a state of mind not a result.
The culprit, the brainchild, the source, "thoughts".
Barriers and walls are broken
Beliefs are bent,
The mind goes to the hole of confusion,
When we realize there were no walls to begin with.
All and all being created,
Imaginatively, concretely,
Each measure of the brick
So true and so false.
Tricks and games
Manipulation and lies
All has a reason
And all with an end.
But embedded in it,
Lies a piece of wisdom
A wise reaction to the actions
An answer to our very "thoughts".
This short span of creation called "life"
Why do we tend to lead it with worry?
To inadequacy and lack of trust,
While all we have to do was just to love ourselves.
Love ourselves so much till we love every single being.
Appreciate each incapabilities as our unique traits,
Each failures as our own personalities,
Every mistakes as our biggest prizes won.
As in these lies our biggest trust to ourselves,
To the construction of our own personalities,
To the acceptance we so crave for
And also, to love and be loved.
May 25, 2019
May 25, 2019 at 10:30 AM UTC
I am a lover unlike any other.
I am delighted to play with words every day.
Rarely does my pen make magic and it rarely speaks the real me.
I live, I love, in all ways imaginatively.
Put delicately with my funny pen.
My pen sometimes pokes eyes out, or I expire strapped to an old oak chair.
Sometimes my topics may rile and you think that I don't care.
I write of love, I write of lust..sometimes mischievous erotica.
The real me's a little girl.
She's hiding in my deep dark heart.
I'm giggly and very silly, daily turning tricks, not ****** tricks, but silly tricks while I'm playing with my dippy words.
I like nothing more than playing silly games, silly games with dozy syllables.
I live to write.
I write to live.
And so the games go on .
(c) Livvi
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 12:59 PM UTC
Wrap me in your remarkable
Tenderhearted charmingness
Your heavenly hypnotic stalwartness
Smooth intoxicating *******
Sweet kissable brick
I preserve your marvelocity
In my heart and soul
You are a four-star orbital joy
My mantastically freshalicious eye candy
I am so absolutely crazy about your crash-hot flashy flex
So lost in blossoming ardency with you
Caught in your delectable manly web
Draw me deeper into your artfully
Attention-grabbing magicness
Boldly colored and spectacular mover and shaker
Imaginatively smashing attraction
Masterful rhapsodic majesticness
Let me smooth my hands
Over your vibrant and luxuriant canvas
Rise in your sublime virile delight
The boundless ripeness of your delightfulness
Your compellingly impressive effectiveness
Aug 21, 2022
Aug 21, 2022 at 2:06 PM UTC
At the beggar's banquet
There are two kinds of worker bees
One in the blows of the breathless insects
With pollen for keeping, and the food they cannot respect
But, the honey lingers like the sweet
The lingering smell
Of the dew
Of a thousand years kept in a hidden hive
Imaginatively, the prey to the work was just canonical
And I worked really hard for my canines
And the square of that lines up with the 6 sides of a cell
Of nine lives
Like a cat curious enough to shake the hornet's nest, three times
Jul 14, 2019
Jul 14, 2019 at 5:13 PM UTC