"laugher" poems
eruptive laugher,
hidden by the trees of yesterday,
past the place that's lost it's bridge.
ultimate chuckling,
i think i see smoke.
Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 12:48 AM UTC
My love and I were just seasonal lovers
I lost all faith in him
he was a scourge to his sensitive pride.
Today we are in a different country
Our smiles is now upside down
Our laugher is seldom heard,
Between us is the Brooklyn Bridge,
When he uses to look at me
his brown eyes tell his soul
It’s going to be colder outside,
For lovers like us,
He with his flannel pajamas
And I with my heavy pink robe and
fuzzy slippers
it's going to be a lonely winter
Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 9:47 AM UTC
Summer, my missed friend
I'm waiting for winter to end
I miss your rays
As you smile bright
I miss the warm days
As I lay beneath your light
I miss the laugher you filled me with
I miss the leaves that flood the trees
I miss the breeze that I snuggled in
And the happiness you granted me
I miss the trips to the lake
And the days spent with my friends
I miss the way the sun would shake
And made the day seem like it would never end
I miss the gentle winds at night
And how I comfortably sat beneath the stars
I miss the summers moonlight
As I lay on the hood of the car
I miss the water wars I would fight
And the bomb fires we sat around
I miss the summer landscape sight
And the heat of the ground
So dear summer please come quick
My soul is in need of your warmth
Your warm smiles so thick
I will openly absorb
Feb 6, 2013
Feb 6, 2013 at 8:30 PM UTC
Reaching out towards
delicately rouged areola
(dusty pink,
supple
like rose petals)
his fingertips blush madly
upon their first caress.
He nestles himself
against her blooming *****
against this garden of a women
where only lovely things--
Star Dust.
Laugher.
Poetry--
may grow.
Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 2:14 PM UTC
Sometimes, I suppose I am happy
When I am with my friends,
Throwing my head back and covering my mouth As I shake with laugher At a joke someone just made. But then the day turns to night
And my carefree grin turns into an unexplainable sadness. I lay in bed. Thinking about all the things I wish I could say. All the things I'm afraid too admit, Even with one pen, paper, and one mind. It's nights like these when I realize I am many things I am happy and sad, Outgoing and shy, Quiet But mostly,
I am empty.
Apr 23, 2017
Apr 23, 2017 at 8:14 PM UTC
They float they soar bursting
Warmly on her nose, she giggles
At The sensation felt, at the
Feeling of happiness that now
Grows as they drift along.
They were her little wings,
Gliding through a flurry of
Rainbows, shimmering light
Glances of perfect bubbles.
Kaleidoscopes Bouncing
From one to another as little
Wings let bubbles Play with
The wind, a wonderful sight
To be hold.
She looked at this little wings,
Awe struck upon there creations
Upon the beauty of this dragons
Two. She wiggled her fingers
Playful towards them both
As one licked upon her digit
Then kissed her on her nose.
Flurries of laugher, innocent
And true, were followed by
A cloud of bubbles, shimmering
In the clear blue. She would
Always remember this day, as
She played with her little bubble
Dragons. Do you want to play in
The garden with me, bubbles,
Dragons and you.
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 6:42 PM UTC
Sitting in an overcrowded classroom,
Heart rate bumps as if it was a machine gun
And EVERYONE in the classroom is taking turns..
Pulling..
The..
TRIGGER..
I have this Illusion of me speaking properly
With every punction down to the teeth..
Even though my mind can see these words clearly
My mouth speaks differently...
" It's only a book.. "
" I can do this -- " Thought process interrupted by the person next to read..
My eyes then became glued to the people watching over me..
( Insert joke here. )
I wanted to say,
I wanted to say,
I wanted to say,
Words is my worst enemy,
Please don't judge me from the way I speak,
All I want is someone to take time to understand me,
Maybe if I had that one ear to listen
I could of been free
And it wouldn't take this long to speak clearly.
In reality,
The room was filled with laugher.
©MH
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 9:52 PM UTC
Is there a barrier
between myself and
the world?
Why do you
conceal your heart
from me?
Loneliness is
watching animation,
laugher, voices, chatter,
and feeling suspended
in time.
Maybe that's why
loneliness is easier to bear
when you're alone,
than around others.
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 12:40 AM UTC
He itemized his medical bills,
Maxed retirement deductions.
He's given cash to charities
and Democratic functions.
This scion of the one percent
knows its his cash they're after.
Manipulating tax returns
will keep him the last laugher.
A death this year is profitable
before tax cuts expire.
While he'll probably miss his parents
Still he set their house on fire.
He hates to see the old place go
but still he watched it burn
while thinking of deductions
for the Estate tax return.
Dec 11, 2012
Dec 11, 2012 at 9:42 PM UTC
You whose Right Hand makes Custom on his Plaque
I take it you are his Cherrymost Friend
And Teeth-Marks suggest you follow his slack
To soothe your Way for an un-ending bend
Poor Sun-Stricken Diver; Bitten for Cause
Tells his Screaming Board to keep him at bay
Whilst waiting for his turn, his Fans at loss
Tried to reach out in a respectful way
There is some Magic in how you perform
I think in Truth that kept your Muscles strong
Now, as I advised your Buddy to reform
Would you allow and keep such Record for long?
Seriously, watching Programmes with those Two
Invites a Rogue Question: Who's poking Who?
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 5:01 AM UTC
and for a moment
and for more than
moments
it all and everything
stopped
cold
dead in the tracks
of a memory
fleeting
whirling in the sounds
the echoes
and the sounds
of a warped
scream
or a song
or a laughing laugher
against the buffet
of the mind's wind
and the colour-rush
and the grainy
screen of inner views
gone
going, going
gone
forever
(in the blink of a mind's
eye)
going
gone
time escaped
and replaced
again
away it goes
and memory
bleeds
dry and sere
never returning burning
bridges
disappear and reappear
until the ashes
turn back into
coal.
Oct 20, 2010
Oct 20, 2010 at 4:44 PM UTC
Behold merrily dancing eyes! moonrise-hued that delight in surprise,
Waterfall-cascading hair, sleepily stirring from a golden lair,
Heaven-glimpsed in leafy disguise, powerless to resist I surmise,
Elven locks frame an Eden-parterre, a majestic Springtime fayre!
Banished Winter’s-strife, unveiled a collective bursting into life,
Love, laugher and blossom hold sway, a dress-parade in full panoply,
Nimble Elven hands serve as nature’s midwife, their deliveries run rife!
This is no chaotic affray, but the Almighty order we never gainsay.
Their unbridled gaiety I watch in wonder, but I feel such an intruder,
Stiff limbed I shake off love’s-hibernation, a lifelong affliction,
Shall I be welcome I ponder, or will they flee in panic and anger?
Their joyous souls offer salvation, unleashed a grim determination!
A rapturous-smiled greeting! handshakes and hugs - our first meeting!
Blinkers-away restores my sight, from this embrace I must not take flight,
Alas! this is mere wish-dreaming, awake my face is aglow and gleaming!
This kinship-reverie serves to ignite, a joy and happiness so eager to excite.
Gone are doubt-swirling mists, hopeful lips plead to be kissed,
This alluring Elven-dream, lures me into passion’s fragrant-stream,
No more envy-bound wrists, as I fiercely battle loves-duellists,
Folly pursuit of Crusading esteem? no courage with a steely gleam!
My brow burns with the fierce rays of Summer,
My soul plunges into despair, with the decline and fall of Autumn,
My feet are mired in the cloying-clay of a sodden Winter,
But heart-contentment sings aloud with the uplifting beat of Spring!
© Robert Porteus
Jun 20, 2021
Jun 20, 2021 at 7:00 AM UTC
There are over a hundred ways
To capture a moment,
To freeze time for a split second,
To remember.
Others paint pictures,
Sketch memories.
Art is a good tool for reliving.
You can hear laughter through paint strokes.
You can cringe at the anger pencil marks can so vividly create.
And even subtle color choice
Can send waves,
Tsunamis,
Hurricanes,
That will wash
every last trace you have of today
And push
you back so deep into yesterday.
Art is an illusion.
But my sister liked to take photographs.
She was able to grasp with two hands
That maybe cameras
aren't too different from paint brushes.
Capture
Moments.
Capture
Memories.
But while art sheds off illusion,
There was something
Terrifying
Hair-raising
Heart-pumping
about the wholeness
of reality
photographs blew.
My sister captured images of me.
And even if you could see me
Laughing,
Snorting,
Wallowing in every form of happiness,
My sister could never really capture
me.
Something always seemed to
Go beyond the frame.
Photographs showed the world
The way I like to twirl in summer dresses
Or the way my hair looked like tumbleweed whenever it decided to imitate the wind
Or how I was always more comfortable smiling
With teeth.
If you stare hard enough,
You'd see that, yes,
I am an ugly laugher,
And the
Awkwardness
of my buck teeth flying everywhere
would distract you
From what I was laughing at.
Photographs are not the bigger picture.
Photographs can't show you
how I love indie music
Or how not-so-great I am at playing the ukulele
Or how I always save homework for later.
Seeing is believing, they say.
But don't ever
Not even for a second
Accept me
Wholeheartedly
With arms wide open
For who you see in the photograph.
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 6:19 AM UTC
While sitting with the gleaming dim of sun and hoping the smell of death that has always lingered on each fingertip, I switch the page of the ****** substance, my mind is thinking where you have been, or where I am going and I think I've learned to hate this distance of home, on a train filled with the nonsense of people and filled with the tyrant desire to keep moving, we sway together like the emotionless tooth ache I've remembered I had now that I'm comfortably laying between the act of home and the act of drunk men waiting to scream, I hope as this seedling roots to the top I don't accusingly run into this smell again or the madness of mumbles, I hate being apart of this religion of laugher if it is not my own. I realized how selfish I sound, wanting to bask in my own silence, feeling the neglecting laugher this is exactly where I do not belong.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 1:03 PM UTC
He was never as good as the other children,
At school they made him think he was to slow
For their games of
Hide
&
Seek
As how hard is it to find a slug when
A slippery, slimy trails left behind him.
He was never that fast always taking
Time to get to those places that
Others would speedily get too.
But what was the fun of missing
Views,
People,
Scenery
Always rushed past, he would take a
Moment to speak to those taking time
Out of a gradual slow day, until someone not
Gazing,
Looking,
Noticing
The slimly little trail, as they disappeared
Down a soggy path, anger turned to laugher
As they had the time of their life.
And on that day a new venture was played
A slowly little fellow,
Would slowly edge his way up the hill.
Once he was there, once he chilled out, they
Slipped,
Slithered,
Skidded,
Down the slope with glee, a little fellow
He didn't run, jump, skip, only slowly walked,
But no one minded. It wasn't the climb up,
The school walk wasn't as slow anymore,
It was the speed that everyone went the other way down.
Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 4:32 PM UTC
He is said to have been the last Red man
In Acton. And the Miller is said to have laughed—
If you like to call such a sound a laugh.
But he gave no one else a laugher’s license.
For he turned suddenly grave as if to say,
“Whose business,—if I take it on myself,
Whose business—but why talk round the barn?—
When it’s just that I hold with getting a thing done with.”
You can’t get back and see it as he saw it.
It’s too long a story to go into now.
You’d have to have been there and lived it.
They you wouldn’t have looked on it as just a matter
Of who began it between the two races.
Some guttural exclamation of surprise
The Red man gave in poking about the mill
Over the great big thumping shuffling millstone
Disgusted the Miller physically as coming
From one who had no right to be heard from.
“Come, John,” he said, “you want to see the wheel-pint?”
He took him down below a cramping rafter,
And showed him, through a manhole in the floor,
The water in desperate straits like frantic fish,
Salmon and sturgeon, lashing with their tails.
The he shut down the trap door with a ring in it
That jangled even above the general noise,
And came upstairs alone—and gave that laugh,
And said something to a man with a meal-sack
That the man with the meal-sack didn’t catch—then.
Oh, yes, he showed John the wheel-pit all right.
1.5k
I think there is a special beauty in being able to romanticize love.
Its all up in here, in my mind.
There is a spectrum of thoughts in my imagination.
Sometimes my love can be one sided and it's safe to say that i like that more.
The part where you get to wonder and the excitement that follows.
I wonder a lot of things about you.
About how do you look like when you laugh.
Do you have an ugly laugh or are you a shy laugher.
Sometimes i make up moments in my mind,
More than often in those moments, time freezes and we make our own little infinity.
Sometimes i want to say things to you, and i wonder what you will say back.
I wonder if you will say what i wanna hear.
I like the wondering part.
I like to think.
I wonder how it would feel to hold your hands.
May 19, 2020
May 19, 2020 at 12:40 PM UTC
Dimples, creations of joy and laugher.
My wrinkles tell stories of childish fun and games.
A forced smile, a see-through facade.
My cold eyes tell a different story.
Feb 19, 2021
Feb 19, 2021 at 4:15 PM UTC
im a jumper
im a thumper
im a bear
im a pear
im a hopper
im a stomper
im a eater
im a steamer
but i am not a screamer
im not a cryer
nor a laugher
not a surgeon
not a garbage man
but i am me
and thats all that matters
me
Dec 4, 2010
Dec 4, 2010 at 10:09 PM UTC
Sing to your daughters
read Sonnets out aloud
encourage love and laugher
so they stand out from the crowd
Instil a sense of fun
tempered with the wisest words
let them free to run
and appreciate the birds
Give them the building blocks
to aspire to great heights
teach the importance
of learning from hindsight
A woman's intuition
has a very special power
involving attentiveness
to every single hour
Melting the hearts
of everyone around
educated ladies
cleverly astound
Give them a guiding hand
light their journey along the way
be their solid rock
and by your side they'll always stay
Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 3:58 PM UTC
A beautiful woman once sang "My Love is Mine, All Mine."
Meaning no matter what I lost,
I would always have the most precious and irreplaceable thing in my possession,
my love.
I would find that beautiful lyric to be so smart, so true,
so vulnerably sweet.
This was until I had met him
I don't exactly know when he had went from
"Just a boy"
To:
My Heart,
Or My Sweet Boy,
Or My Precious Gem.
I just know that he had earned those titles quite quickly
Our time together was magical.
I was already a chronic laugher,
but with him who knew,
that butterflies in your stomach
could also make you grovel on the ground
whilst gasping for air?
Almost like cramps,
only the pain would be everywhere;
especially your heart.
One could easily call this love, but no,
I had a brain the size of a walnut.
I didn't call this love.
Everything but love,
A Bored Crush
A Little Hyperfixation
A Cool New friend
Anything but that.
My love had belonged to
me and
only
me!
I would not entrust it with a man!
a man that makes me feel safe,
heard, cared for,
not even worth mentioning, protected!
If you'd asked me a couple months ago
I'd have called it absolute bull.
Though a couple months ago,
I was incredibly stupid.
To let go of such a man should be a crime,
punishable by death.
Our time together was magical,
So magical that even I am unable to
glorify
departure.
How could my biggest boundary,
grow to be my biggest regret?
I have grown into finding normality in toxicity, thus self-sabotaging any beautiful thing
I could've shared with a romantic other.
How selfish of me.
My Heart,
My Sweet Boy,
My Precious Gem.
Please return back to me my love.
It has no business being with you.
My Heart,
My Sweet Boy,
My Precious Gem;
whom left me in such a rut.
How much longer should you take?
Must you make me wallow in my loneliness forever?
My Heart,
My Sweet Boy,
My Precious Gem.
You will continue to fault me,
for mistakes I was unaware I even commit.
My Heart,
My Sweet Boy,
My Precious Gem.
You have ruined this beautiful letter of dignity for me,
I care no more for my own love,
and self respect.
You are free to take it, to keep even
May my own mind, body, and soul protect yours, as you sleep.
You need not to elucidate anything to me.
I understand and will continue to grovel in my faults,
to reminisce my sacred moments with you.
Beautiful woman,
were you so true with your words?
Does my love really belong to me?
Should I even be granted such a luxury
with my wrongdoings?
My Sweet Boy, It would seem that, my love, it belongs to you.
I am unaware of whether or not you own it all, or a fraction.
I only know that my love is yours,
You replaced that irreplaceable piece,
How silly that my heart seemed to have
only started beating when, you clumsily touched it.
My Heart
My Dear Boy
My Precious Gem,
Our time together was magical
I will cherish it for as long as my heart,
beats
for
you.
Oct 6, 2024
Oct 6, 2024 at 11:14 AM UTC
the earth spins sweetly
like a turntable in a sun-lit living room
or the hem of a long skirt in july
the best things in life are free
the sing-song laugher of the birds as i sip my morning coffee
the smell of fresh rain and wet concrete
the curve of the sky late at night
as i stare emphatically into the stars
hanging low to the wyoming plains and sage
how fantastic it is to simply be
Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 1:20 AM UTC
I'm not immortal...
my head aches from ache..
A sourceless cower
I sit inside my head...
not a tear...not a tear...
the fear subsided
for now a year...
and finally the conclusion is here...
I'm lost..I'm weary
I'm not as close, not nearly..
I'm farther than I started...
backtracked to nowhere
You were the last smile I remember...
the last place when we were together.
I knew who I was then...
but now I begin again...
I lost myself in you
Love, magic and blissful caress..
how could I compete...
a time beyond time..
ineffable, defying my breath...
Soon after, cold after...
the happily ever after
the laugher... died into tears..
and soon the tears..
dripped in the silence.
But the time never begun once more..
You walked and time followed
the shut, the ache..everything misplaced...
Now one year later, I sit rather jaded..
mystified at why I cannot seem to be...
Everything that was supposed to happen..
has turned me..
into nothing...
give me back to me.
Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 2:27 AM UTC
I still think
Heaven is a small
Town with bright
Blue eyes and the
Sound of a child's
Laugher—
That it unknots
The brows of even
The most weary of
Philosophers.
I still think
Heaven is a small
Garden encrusted with
White feathers and
The west-wound winds
Coming from the Atlantic.
An old harbor—Vladivostok—
Spelled perfectly,
Abandoned by
Knaves and all the carnage they left,
Or Ceasaria:
Dry bed of luminous ruins.
I imagine You beckoning us:
"Don't be afraid, come!"—
Revealing pockets of
Nature only you would have
The courage to call
Beautiful.
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 7:00 AM UTC