"intimidates" poems
"What are you?" he asks. "I mean what are you mixed with?"
He does not mean for the question to be rude. He has never seen someone quite like me, and the question has been bouncing around in his head for at least 2 minutes. So he blurts it out.
"Jamaican, Chinese, and White," I tell the stranger. I smile politely and attempt to mask my discomfort.
He only looks more intrigued. He thinks I am odd, oddly beautiful. Like a rare bird he has found. Not a bird one would ever keep. Just something to look at in awe.
"What are you?" the test paper asks, though in a more formal way. "Please bubble your ethnicity." I hesitate. I think about bubbling 3 different races, but I just end up filling in the bubble that says "other".
"What are you?" I ask my mirror. "Are you a freak? Why don't you look like everyone else? Why do they stare at you?"
"You are not pretty," i tell my reflection. "You are just different. The kind of different that no one likes. The kind of different that scares and intimidates people."
My reflection pauses for a moment. She smiles with kind eyes, forgiving my insult.
"You are everything," she tells me. "You are the sun, the moon and everything in between. You are a scorching hot fire, yet you are cold spring water. You are good and bad. You are you and I am, too. But most of all, you are human. Just like anyone else.
Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 11:28 PM UTC
Hidden, oh hidden
in the high fog
the house we live in,
beneath the magnetic rock,
rain-, rainbow-ridden,
where blood-black
bromelias, lichens,
owls, and the lint
of the waterfalls cling,
familiar, unbidden.
In a dim age
of water
the brook sings loud
from a rib cage
of giant fern; vapor
climbs up the thick growth
effortlessly, turns back,
holding them both,
house and rock,
in a private cloud.
At night, on the roof,
blind drops crawl
and the ordinary brown
owl gives us proof
he can count:
five times--always five--
he stamps and takes off
after the fat frogs that,
shrilling for love,
clamber and mount.
House, open house
to the white dew
and the milk-white sunrise
kind to the eyes,
to membership
of silver fish, mouse,
bookworms,
big moths; with a wall
for the mildew's
ignorant map;
darkened and tarnished
by the warm touch
of the warm breath,
maculate, cherished;
rejoice! For a later
era will differ.
(O difference that kills
or intimidates, much
of all our small shadowy
life!) Without water
the great rock will stare
unmagnetized, bare,
no longer wearing
rainbows or rain,
the forgiving air
and the high fog gone;
the owls will move on
and the several
waterfalls shrivel
in the steady sun.
3.2k
She rises as everyone falls
Her white complexion pristine as always
Men have fought for her pale face
Yet, when faced with her dark side, they cry in horror
A beautiful outsider
She wanders alone in the stars
Her wonder intimidates
Her grace frightens
Her love kills
Under her glow men commit ****** and monsters come out to play
Around every corner satin's satire drips of the tongue of ******
Adultery runs rampant
Respectable ties exchanged for leashes of pleasure
And briefcases for whips
He sleeps in a long sleeve shirt to hide the lashes
Dinner was cold when he got home
But he forgave.
At church
The cross burns a whole in his forehead
His lips slightly stained from last night
Mind not on the sermon, but on his next excuse
How can he admit to losing everything to a drug test
She picks up the phone with a grin on her face as if he could see her through the phone
Another faulty excuse of overtime
Of course the plastered smile stays
But she can't find reasoning marketing should leave bruises on his wrists
Her children are her only ball and chain
Her soul had left her years ago
But her body stays to care for them
An empty shell
Selene walks into the stars once again and waves the wife over
She swallows more than ever and spins to the sky
Selene guides her to her soul and they walk together to watch
Her son calls from his room for dinner
Her daughter throws her phone because she didn't have service
Her husband screams because the collar was a bit tight
Selene, desperate for company, begs for her to stay
And she does
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 10:25 AM UTC
all too often
we carry the
inexplicable burden
of perfection,
the weight balanced
upon our weakened shoulders,
we can hear our hollow bones
cracking like fallen leaves
under the pressure,
and still, we ignore it.
we see ourselves
through a looking glass
of social comparison
and self discrepancy.
she can't be better than me.
we want to believe that we are beautious beings.
we criticize what
intimidates us,
hatred falling from
our tongues
without a single,
rational thought.
it is then that we become wolves in sheep clothing
but let me tell you this:
you and i, will never be the same
my hair will never
fall the way yours does,
clothes will never
rest that delicately
upon my frame.
there is a divergence
in the way my
hips sway
and
that is okay.
i've a geyser
in my heart,
rosebuds in
my soul.
the faults,
crevices,
canyons in
my flesh
tell the story
of where i am
and have been.
i've inextinguishable embers
inside of me,
things that no other
being will
ever see.
and you,
you are
a monument,
too.
so, though
we all aspire to be
that image seared
into our minds,
from the cover
of that magazine
we read when we
were thirteen,
we will never be the same
and
that
is
incredible
Feb 5, 2018
Feb 5, 2018 at 2:19 AM UTC
So the incident,
intimidates and consoles.
Will never beat the water
that comes from nowhere
and rolls.
For the mind can only focus
on who will come next.
Not the jealous humans
to say and rant,
but the wave to wash over,
we wake up,
and we pant.
Refusing to care about others
rude needs.
See the ocean,
this is what Poseidon
really has to offer
and what he feeds.
Giving the mind a chance
to break
free.
Stress has its place,
but the ocean is where we
say to the disruptive stress,
"You're not for me."
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 10:12 PM UTC
Nothing intimidates me more,
Than a woman’s inviting smile,
It pierces right down to the core;
Appealing to everything I adore;
This subtle, suggestive, wile:
Whetting the sense of anticipation,
Igniting fires of the imagination.
Nothing possesses more power,
Than a woman’s determined will;
Disguised as a delicate flower,
Sweetness smothering the sour,
Regardless of the pyrrhic thrill;
Bewitchment in everything but name,
Savouring the illicitness of the game.
No ordinary man has a prayer,
When a woman stakes her claim;
She’ll welcome you into her lair,
Reject her desires if you dare,
Her revenge has legendary fame;
Travelling incognito: deadly intentions,
From this wrath, there are no preventions.
Do not ever, ever, underestimate.
That which cannot be understood:
Avoid the temptation to speculate,
Categorize, classify or evaluate,
The secret mysteries of womanhood;
Whenever tempted by an inviting smile;
Nod politely then turn, and run a mile.
© Paul Chafer 2014
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 6:19 AM UTC
Beauty intimidates me.
I was afraid to speak,
but I professed my love for you
with a little peek.
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 10:52 PM UTC
I won't fall in love with you for the way your hair cascades your shoulders
I won't get hooked on the way your body sways when you walk
And I won't focus on the small flaws that society highlights every day
I am not your average person
I'm an ******* a ****
Sometimes I don't think ahead
I've gotten myself into unsettling situations
And I tend to be self-destructive
But love terrifies me, it intimidates my self control
Because when I fall in love with you
It will be with the way your eyes glow when you speak
The beautiful chime of your voice when you answer the phone
The way my arms fit perfectly around you as you lean into me
I'll fall in love with the way we understand one another
And with the fear that consumes me
As I contemplate why someone as wonderful as you
Whose "flaws" I'll fall more in love with every day
Chose my broken soul
To make you feel whole.
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 2:33 AM UTC
Driving down the road
I experienced the glow
Of daytime's luxurious light
That was until it became night
Now that night has happened
A light follows me from the darkness
It pervades my rear view mirror
It's blinding magnitude magnifies upon reflection
The light intimidates me
Like the time
I didn't know what to say
And you had nothing to say
So we went our separate ways
Traveling alone
The light seems brighter
It's constant peering presence disturbs me
I feel this condemning nightlight is my jury
Like the time
The ****** I injected landed me in jail
I used it to sedate the voice that I failed
When you saw my love and bailed because I'm male
I drive lonely and high
There's an exasperated sigh
When the lights gets closer
I feel it may bring closure
Like the time
You entered my vehicle
To protect me from the light
I confused your compassion for love
I felt so stupid
When foolish fits me like a glove
I feel so putrid
The odds of someone being gay are slim
So why when my hopes are dashed
Must I crumble into idiotic ash?
My eyes grow larger
As death's sights grow smaller
And death's light grows taller
My mistakes create magnification
And I begin to drive erratically
When you are my love's activation
I continue to die sporadically
Sep 17, 2017
Sep 17, 2017 at 5:26 AM UTC
when my infatuation dims
midnight conversations
fade into radio silence
I'm sorry for making you my muse
you look at me in ways I always wanted someone to
and in another life I'd love you the way I should
my weakness is I've only ever held on to unrequited love
and I'm not sure I know how to let someone stay
consistency intimidates me
maybe heartache is more of a friend than I'd like to admit
Oct 24, 2018
Oct 24, 2018 at 7:50 PM UTC
Deep, dark, lonely blue eyes,
Casting her vision
Into the distance—beyond
The sight and senses.
What are you thinking of?
Who could make you so sad?
Sitting there, alone,
On a small round table
With one empty chair.
What’s that you’re sipping,
Is it meant to heal the hurt?
Your beauty intimidates,
Would take courage to approach.
There’s so much love
I could give you, but,
I sit at my own round table
With its own empty chair.
And, I do drink to forget and
Ease the pain.
I am trying to heal myself.
Wish I didn’t have
My own troubles, then,
I could go and take care
Of yours.
Mar 23, 2010
Mar 23, 2010 at 3:16 PM UTC
There's this blank page in front of me
And I'm supposed to fill it up with words
Thing is, the emptiness of the page doesn't inspire me
It frightens and intimidates me
**** you, blank page,
Fill yourself up with angry words
And god-awful sentiments
I don't have time
I got too much of too little inside my gut
To fill you up like an empty ****
Just like me, yeah
Ain't you just like me
Another empty **** on a blank page
Having to apologize and cry your eyes out
For the one and only person who you showed yourself to
One and only who touched you
And held your naked soul against his
The only one who dared to fill you
Like I fill you now
That ******* who had the gall
Yours loved and left you
But I was the leaver
But that son of a ***** had the nerve
To try and ******* me as I left
And I knew I KNEW
Knew it wasn't right
Knew you couldn't be the one to hold me all night
With all of your anger
Your lack of sympathy and empathy
And human compassion
You were sweet just for me
But you'd watch the world burn
Just to satisfy your moral pride
And self-righteous concern
So go on and wonder why I left you
And I'll try to change myself
Yeah, just a couple of *****
Making love on blank pages
There's somebody here worth changing my life for
Worth the infamy and destruction of telling
Telling the world about the **** on blank pages
But words are thick
Melted glass that stumbles and slips and tumbles
Crumbling all over the ground
It echoes the sound of my own voice
Accusing myself for making my own choice
For choosing the wrong
The bitter for sweet
But who are these people to tell me to beat it
Why should you decide my worthiness
Or the sincerity of my penance
****** why do YOU get to send me away
When I've already got Hell to pay
Just to the ******* who I left in Hell
And the angel who's trying so hard to save me from myself
**** you bishop, cardinal, preacher, God and law
You're all just a bunch of blank pages
Empty ***** of all ages.
Just let me live
Let me die
On the back of this blank page
Let no one turn over
And no one will be shamed.
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 1:04 AM UTC
I sat, staring
a raw paper, naked before me
it gawks at me, teases me, mocks me.
With a blank stare it intimidates me.
Ah, a pun!
Lost pun, without a home.
Perhaps I should file it
with so many other homeless puns?
They have no where to go.
Like a transient they stand
holding signs that read
"Will work for a storyline."
But they are not alone.
There are sentences, paragraphs,
poems and essays
with no end in sight.
"Come join us!" they cry.
"We will await the gods
imagination and inspiration!"
But as Christ delays his coming,
so do they.
But wait, and wait it shall.
Patient paper
Silent paper
The gods will come.
As thieves in the night.
In the dawns early light.
Ah yes!
You will not compel me to stare.
Taunting remnant of tree.
For the gods never come
while I watch.
Feb 5, 2011
Feb 5, 2011 at 3:20 AM UTC
people see smoldering flames
crawling up her veins
and think of empires collapsing into ash,
people watch her eyes spark
and feel her calloused electricity
and they convince themselves of her power
she broods and she intimidates
and they think she is strong
and they think she is dangerous
and they are afraid of her fire
even though the only thing she tries to destroy
is herself.
Dec 27, 2020
Dec 27, 2020 at 1:32 PM UTC
Nothing I do is perfect, and that's what terrifies me.
I stare and stare at the crooked lines and microscopic germs,
not able to be seen under the naked eye.
My room intimidates me to the extent in which I'm afraid to enter.
The mess is obscure, chipped paint off the walls and pencils thrown to the sides in utter frustration.
I can't focus when what I'm doing isn't exact.
Math causes me to panic.
Not because of the algebraic expressions, but because of the erase marks that always litter the paper afterwords that never seem to hide.
They're always there, showing off how horrid my handwriting looks.
The idea of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder makes me want to scurry.
I know I'm a living example of it, and I know how nerve-wracking it is being around me.
Because everything needs to reach my standards, and nothing ever does.
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 7:14 PM UTC
if tonight's your last
and yesterday's past
intimidates you or
relentlessly accuses you
of the things that
once enchanted you
and you take a slap in the face
you cut to the chase
there's no time to waste
but really you're stuck
you feel out of place
and the rhythm of the sorrow
drags into tomorrow
because you cannot forget
and there is abundant regret
draining from the scars
that you've tried to hide
that you've put aside
and in reality, your soul
IS TIRED
of waiting, of praying
of feeling like it's straying
you breathe, you sleep,
you live as if you
were not dying
you're still trying
TO BE OK
but you are broken and
you cannot cope
and all of your hope
has gone up in smoke
to where has your spirit flown?
LET GO
for the love of God, release
give it to the One you seek
to Him whom your eyes have not seen
in this moment, you are
FREED.
© Melissa Carlson 2015
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 9:37 PM UTC
Breaking free from confinement her roots emerge,
Cracked ceramic cascades across the fractured memories she bore,
She is growing past the bounds they placed her in,
She is defying the norms they mistaken her for,
Her overgrowth is fierce and intimidates all so.
Dealt grief - heartbreak - and trauma this woman survives,
No vessel capable of containing her spirit,
Overgrowth is her resilience that pushes past the comfort of garden beds,
The skies sing her praise as nature paves her way.
Mar 10, 2021
Mar 10, 2021 at 6:58 PM UTC
Death is inevitable,
Your passing isn't something I like,
Your writings filled me with inspiration
Your works simply intimidates me
And thank God I had the opportunity of reading your work here on Hellopoetry
I really can't explain how it made me feel to know you once shared this platform with us
And it's really sad to lose a writer and poet
She was exceptionally good, such a rare and talented writer
She was simply phenomenal
May God rest her soul
She would live on in our hearts
Adieu Maya Angelou.
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 5:45 PM UTC
The ***** woman
I remember, a long, long time ago
I asked my granddad: what it is about us
the ***** woman
what we do, what we wear,
how we speak and the way we move
that intimidates them
“Let them talk about us
the others
The way they talk, the way they walk
the way in which they sip tea,
tip their hats and say howdy
I looked into Granddad blue's eyes
and saw the raging fire of life.
Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 6:49 AM UTC
I want to hold onto you, smile at you
But I don't know how
So I cling to him, familiarity
The unknown intimidates me
But I want you to know
I want you
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 11:10 AM UTC
Do you still see the hand of God?
Or has that appendage blended,
Into the power of spiritual awareness,
To which I see my fellows so attuned.
I know that God is not a man,
Not a person,
And not a thing,
But I miss my story.
The one about sacrifice, love, and fate,
A great father at the helm,
Directing us through waves that petrify reflexes,
God gentrifies the isolated,
God intimidates iniquity,
And spirituality is for the soul.
But I wish, still, for a better story in this age so new.
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 2:02 PM UTC
knots and weaves
windward gales quickly deceive
ever moving the undertow
constant curves dip in the winds and below
blowing off the waters deep
leaving a mist so sweet
hand to cheek
blue waters press further
possessed by the wind
willful turbines stay in sync completing the cycle
shaping and sculpting the swells
creating an undertow struggling to be free
choose to swallow in pleasure
choose to wallow with the pain
an answer returns with demand
beating fists upon the sand
the wind answers back with violent command
to the tides, to the swells, to the surges, hit the rip current
so powerful, so aggressive, she intimidates
all to catch the craze
ocean, she see's and waves
man is met
sized and weighed
Terry D’Arcy-Ryan
Mar 23, 2018
Mar 23, 2018 at 10:15 AM UTC
Dad, I hope you're not in your head,
Hating who you are.
It was an accident, I would still try to.
I hope you have peace, quiet for now.
The heartache that surronded your life.
Easing up, floating away until you feel none.
I don't want you to see yourself right now.
I don't want you to think that all you are was a chronic illness, a brokedown body.
That flames have now kissed.
Know that your intelligence still intimidates me.
Your humour quick, smart.
Even as I watched your body attack itself.
Slowly taking your life away.
As your anger and hate for what your body did to you.
Became all consuming, I still know who you are.
You are the amazing cook, terrible math tutor, lunch at home, you were my picture of strength.
You were the one when I was little to cuddle me.
You were the very proud man, who in a few calls could get it done
Dad, I can still see your face.
I can still see the fright, the knowledge.
The forfeit.
I want you to know I loved you.
I want you to know I respect you more then any other person in this world.
I was with till the end,
and I know you will be with me.
I almost am excited for it to be my time.
To feel those arms that were so strong when I was little hug me once more.
To hear you say, welcome partner, we are home.
Until then, watch me close and yell at me loud enough for me to hear.
Help me with my choices, get me through this tough life.
Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 12:40 AM UTC
You call me a freak?
You, who has no real friends?
You, who has only followers?
You, who intimidates instead of being friendly?
You call me a freak?
You, who has never studied a day in your life?
You, who reads on a fifth grade level?
You, who is failing all of your classes?
You call me a freak?
You, who calls yourself fat when you’re clearly underweight?
You, who is afraid to eat?
You, who is all stick and bones?
You call me a freak?
You, who wears outrageous, “fashionable” clothes?
You, who wears four-inch heels to gym class?
You, who wears enough hairspray to make your air look like plastic?
Yet you still have the nerve to call me a freak?
You, who smiles confidently when I don’t respond?
You, who widens your eyes when I smile back?
You, who stares speechless when I roll my eyes and walk away?
You, who can’t comprehend why I don’t run away in tears?
You, who doesn’t know why I just walked away?
You, who can’t figure out my true thoughts on you?
I pity you.
I pity you for your fake friends.
I pity you for your future.
But most all, I pity you for the fact that you have to put others down to make yourself feel good.
Feb 18, 2010
Feb 18, 2010 at 5:15 PM UTC