"lightweight" poems
Birds ate there all eatables
flapping their wings as a dance
trimming and preen of the wings
jump here there, losing no chance
black, blue, brown their cute colours
short, long, slim, heavy, lightweight
wings and flight memorable
all in hurry to have fate
chirp in low high sound, fresh mood
they were neat, beautiful smart
search everywhere want of food
giving an end, at the start
each one looking for some good
bit sip enough to quench thirst
no one waiting, for its turn
a cute gay bird, find it first
while the lyrics touch my soul
chirp, chirp, chirp was their tweet, song
making a norm; fresh my mood
melodious their sweet song
ripe fruit there serve passer-by
there were trees to grant a shade
there was rule 'No Restriction'
beauty of leaves not yet fade
pan was waiting to serve them
one sharp sip hurry to fly
child fell down while knocked at rock
help! Help! Shoutinnocent cry
sound dangerous, **** of earth
crackling, falling, housing, wall
help, no rescue love or hate
site was changed in front of all
no charm, fame, concert at all
there was no work, club or shop
speech for help was useless try
any search team, rescue flop
winking eyes now teary one
no-one could found there a bun
there no signs of living one
no care there, no deal, no done
birds ate there all eatables
flapping their wings as a dance
trimming and preen of the wings
jump here there, losing no chance
chirp, chirp sad song low high sound
they were neat, beautiful smart
search everywhere want of food
giving an end, at the star
each one looking for some good
bit sip enough, quench the thirst
no one waiting, for its turn
cute bird could not find it first
while the lyrics, touch my soul
chirp, chirp, chirp was their sad song
making a norm, my sad mood
melodious, fair sad song
no fruit there for passer-by
no trees there to grant a shade
they were buried, there, somewhere
no green leaves at risk of fade
all the owners slept and pressed
sound dangerous lifeless rock
ruined everywhere tragic song
mud, stone, sand, all-cause of shock
no help, care there, love or hate
there was silence as no play
no pan waiting there at all
birds could find a broken tray
you reveal it then I know
my pangs are more than a sea
there is link between the two
soul and body, You and me
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 7:59 PM UTC
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
But I am relieved.
Not being confined in bright velvets
of the West, or shimmering silks of
the East. Each hand-stitched with
animals and flowers, crystals and
furs, with gold and silver to
parade around in Court.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
I find far more splendour in a simple
iris-purple kimono-robe, lightweight,
silk-satin and printed with lilies with
a pink silk trim. It strokes my ankles,
and the sleeves, they billow; the sash
firmly fastened around my waist.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
My handmaid, Ilazi, presents a gilded
bowl with the purest form of fruits -
the ones that were rain-washed. I have
a variety to choose from - strawberries,
blueberries, peaches, green, red and
black grapes which I pick and nibble
on. Hmm, a succulent balance of
sweetness and ****
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
And then my senior handmaid, Anihana,
arrives with a tray in hand, clearly made
from stainless steel with rose-gold accents.
'Sweet Queen,' says she. At the wave of my
hand, the music stops. 'Forgive me for
keeping you waiting. I know how particular
you are with your pearls so I narrowed
them to your favourite three choices.'
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
'Thank you,' I say and as I lean up, she
presents three cream-hued scrolls.
'Lists,' says she, 'of all the ship's
inventory. Would you like to
inspect them, my lady?'
'I will after some tea, Ainhana,
thank you.'
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
Anihana nods and moves by my side
as my eyes fall on the tray's contents.
A small silver five-minute sand-timer,
a glass teapot with bamboo handle,
an infuser and steel lid half filled
with hot water; steam dancing
out of the spout. Then, a lovely
glass teacup, one of the most
beautiful I've seen yet.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
Aug 4, 2018
Aug 4, 2018 at 7:48 AM UTC
Yes its big yosef a true heavy weight makin' earthquakes through all states watch for the snakes
In the grass never front for the cash who wanna clash?
With a mighty Titan I'm on a God status love hoes with the **** size of Trish stratus
Now tell me who's the baddest
ya on a one way trip with Gladys Knight
On a Midnight train to Georgia no one heard of ya
Ya flows is wack your skull will get crack fuckin' with the mack
I make a love connection from my smif and wesson learned ya lesson no plexin'
On my team one man supreme like a lion i be the king makin' suckas sing
Lullabies I feel ya soul cry reaching for the sky
Ain't no ******* allowed puff a cloud til the city unda a smoke shroud
Fools Talk loud but die silent known to be be violent
If provoked by a fake loc my pistol loves to smoke it stays high
Leavin' holy bodies to fry
Who could outwrite this? my style will diss rhymes deeper than an abyss make ya ****
Out ya own blood as ya face down in the mud with no crud
Touchin' my eyes sleep with one eye
Open scopin' and hopin' got more scams than Ken Copeland I'm still floatin'
On cloud nine almost to ten sippin' gin never see me grin my lyrics touchin'
Every last one of you wack rappers so come again.....
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 11:40 PM UTC
*Wrestle me well, my love,
For we were star-crossed enemies,
And I miss you.
My shoulders miss your caring arms,
My lips crave your pale-red tongue,
A slice of refreshment, watermelon,
My chest searches the rise of your chest,
And my torso longs only, and is only,
For your leg locks.
Grapple me and my lightweight heart,
As the backbone of this world breaks,
As the sun sinks into final submission,
But I will never tap on this love out.
Never.*
© 2017 J.S.P.
Jan 26, 2017
Jan 26, 2017 at 4:41 PM UTC
What if your brain
was just a small packet of popcorn
that desperately needed
a microwave.
What if it refuses
to operate
until you show it some love-
Let it open itself up.
What if all it wanted was
to feel a little more lightweight-
'pop' away the pressure of being
confined to a head-cage.
What if our brains
Were just raw popcorn pieces
That needed some heating
To melt away the pain.
Jun 10, 2016
Jun 10, 2016 at 2:59 PM UTC
There are things called chromebooks, and they are like laptops
but they have one small difference,
they can fit in your bag,
they can run offline,
they can by used by schools,
they can be monitored,
they are cool
they are lightweight
they are good-looking
and most of all
they are fun to use
Mar 27, 2019
Mar 27, 2019 at 5:26 AM UTC
Crystal White Pearl paint,
red racing stripes,
MX-5 traced
on the side
Lightweight aluminum
alloy, seventeen inch
wheels wrapped in
205/45 summer
performance tires,
Limited-
Slip Differential,
rear wheel drive,
Six-speed manual
transmission, weighted
shift **** perfectly
palm-sized
Black sport clutch
bucket seats, seamed
racing red stitching, a clutch
worked with a snap
of the heel, a flick
of the wrist.
Crystal White dash panel,
red racing stripe
MX-5 traced lines
match the stripes outside.
Piano Black
mirrors match
bucket seats
and the cloth
soft top
unfolds on summer days,
spring nights, fall
mornings.
Heaven/
Nirvana/
Happiness
found
now
with a snap of the heel
& flick of the wrist.
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 10:44 PM UTC
Love potion's scented with my smell.
Said I'm a lightweight but I do it so well.
What I do to you with no hesitation could send us both to hell.
Is it wrong that I'm okay with that?
Said just keep moving in circles like that.
Once I put this on you, all else on your mind fails.
With a touch so sweet and a feeling so deep like a fantasy that's real.
Need I remind you what I'm here for?
To give you what you've never felt before.
What's really true anymore?
Light of the new world, I can show you more.
Even when I'm down with a crooked crown, hopes are still high.
Feels much better when it's wetter and raining down my sides.
When you splash inside, drown in mine, like a crashing tide.
Open up your pretty big mind, you don't have to hide.
What you hold inside is a bigger prize.
Let's just fly away and soar where all the birds go.
Welcome to my world, you've been touched by Virgo.
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 12:45 PM UTC
*Many legends there be back in days of old;
Legends of bold knights upon their noble steeds.
This be a tale starring a knight and his steed
As one and the same.
'Twas in the Renaissance city of Poitiers
The prodigy of a holy knight was born;
Sir Nathanëal of the Salomon bloodline,
Lineage of victors.
He bore the heart and voice of an archangel
And the loyalty of a priest to his God.
No other horse he rode but his first and last;
Dear "Divinitus."
Alas, his loyalty had cost him dearly
In the midst of the Battle of Moncontour.
Thus came the end of Nathanëal Salomon.
Or so it had seemed.
By the hands of benevolent sorcery,
Nathanëal and Divinitus lived again,
This time sharing a peculiar physique
Of both man and horse.
Thus, blessed with fur of white and a mane of gold,
Well-equipped with lightweight armour and claymore,
He walked the outskirts of France slaying evil
As both knight and steed.*
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 7:35 AM UTC
The morning light shines through the blinds
My eyes squint shut trying to stop the pain.
Head pounding, throbbing, sharp pins and needles
Memory gone, complete darkness.
What happened last night?
I don't dare ask my friends for fear of what they might bring to light.
I remember the sips of tequila on my tongue,
I can still taste it.
Dancing all night long,
Then it's all black.
I cannot remember when I left the bar,
Or how I got home.
What I did in those few hours,
I cannot remember.
I look in the bathroom mirror and see a cut on my forehead.
How did that get there?
Sure, I had a long, painful relationship with alcohol in the past.
I was a lightweight learning her limits,
And some of my worst memories involved alcohol consumption.
I used alcohol as a coping mechanism but it only made my problems worse.
No matter how hard I tried,
I still could not figure out how I injured myself.
Tears rush down my face in frustration.
Drinking was no longer fun.
I was no longer proud of who I was.
The tequila taste in my mouth making me gag in disgust,
Disgust with myself.
No longer would I let alcohol continue to destroy my life.
Sobriety is hard but my memory and wellbeing is more important than being intoxicated.
~ sdr
Sep 28, 2021
Sep 28, 2021 at 8:02 AM UTC
I sit here on this lonely windswept ridge
Overlooking a wild place
Of peathag and bog and wild heather
Of outcrops of gritstone rock
Standing like rotting teeth
In ravished gums
Bleak and dreary in the rain
But still a place to be loved
Hardy sheep graze the barren slopes
Watched over by equal hardy men and dogs
Out in all weathers
I'm lucky
Because I know the tracks and trails
Crossing this wild land
I know the streams of fresh water
And the sanctuary for my nights rest
In my small lightweight tent
This is wild Yorkshire
As yet an unspoilt place
Nov 20, 2016
Nov 20, 2016 at 1:50 PM UTC
god stood by me, he hid in my pocket like a piece of amethyst
when i ran he turned into the forest to envelop me
his spirits became soft grasses, scented woods and colorful flower
The elderly woman in her garden in the early morning before the sun rises too high. She never sprays chemicals to get rid of the snails, instead she works and plants for and around them. This garden is to celebrate life, not to take it away. The wooden fence bordering her property is low and unoffensive enough to allow through woodland creatures who are never shooed away for taking a walk or a bite through the herbage. Perhaps she is atoning for a life of death and destruction. Or perhaps she is a saint.
They enjoyed things like making forts out of sticks and blankets and cardboard boxes and dressing up and going to the opera.
Memories, fresh like a wound.
Sometimes something so small. Going to the post office. A slideshow of post offices in my life. The disinfected paper smell, the lines of people waiting to mail a package, the solid colors of the interior, gray, black, white. A scrubby short haired black carpet, well worn.
I turned into a set of wings made out of crayon or colored pencil markings. As if pushed and pulled by the wind I stunned through the air, waving in the sunlight, pencil dashes of red and blue and purple. Like an animation from Reading Rainbow.
Thrown and tossed about like a lightweight wale in the sea. An enormous behemoth of grey and blue leaping like a kitten among the waves. It should be terrifying and would be if its teeth were any larger or sharper and if there was not such a happy gleam in its huge eye.
Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 10:49 PM UTC
MC Lyte was lightweight
The Queen Bee was unseemly
compared to
this woman who shared you
and all you went through
And Queen Latifah wasn't half the leader
spoken word speaker
singer
soul seeker
that Oo La La
was
that Fu Gee La
was
Missy Elliot
lost her 8 stars
when she lost weight
(that's when she lost bars)
Lauryn
Lauryn Hill will always
always
be ours
she might be modest
but she'll always be
my Hip Hop Goddess
Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 5:04 PM UTC
start with a bucket of dusted gravel
tip into a cold pan, a wriggling jungle of alphabet
gasps.
drown.
rock the pan of words in arms
agitating the line-breaks
the twisting plait of water
spurts the lightweight
sediment over the edge
to a scrap pool of dog-tailed idioms
the rest charges, a collage of schooled fish
the pulse in the rubble sinks
like a dictionary to the base.
ransack the salt-swamp of dazed stanzas
as a malnourished mole
catch a lump, grasp between digits
it twinkles under caked mud.
free it from parasite-adjectives
strain from the crocodile water
a chiseled torso of words in the rock
all along.
Mar 25, 2012
Mar 25, 2012 at 7:06 AM UTC
Rock: Ridgid and tough
Wood: Natural, eventual decay
Glass: Fragile and transparent/colorful
Paper: Lightweight and flexible, yet tears easily
Copper: Less expensive, down-to-earth
Silver: Shiny, allergic to my skin
Gold: Self absorbed, obsessed
Platinum: Tending to try for perfections or egotistic, ADHD or OCD
Air: Invisible and wayward, nomadic
Water: Flowing and graceful
Fire: Warmth and passion
Earth: Round and supple
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 5:19 PM UTC
Sometimes I would walk through the halls,
feeling nothing but anxiety.
My mind would become flooded:
What should I be doing…
what should I be saying...
what is everyone thinking?
See-
I used to float to the back of the room
to the back of my mind where
I escaped the world by reading.
Nerdy.
A loser. A freak.
I was too intelligent for my age.
It wasn’t COOL to get straight A’s.
Then I advanced to the seventh grade,
with no idea my life was about to change.
I made a friend.
Then Two. Then Three.
A former unknown concept: “popularity”.
Skater shoes, with laces you didn’t tie,
pink backpacks, hair straight as a pin-
Abercrombie-
led me to a moment I still hate today:
“Try some of this”.
It wasn’t COOL if you said no.
It was my first taste of intoxication,
my first taste of escape-
escape of my mind, the thoughts,
The anxiety.
The more I sipped, the more I let go.
The drinks would become stronger,
we raged every other night.
Tolerances were creeping up high,
control started waving goodbye to my mind.
It wasn’t COOL to be sober.
We laughed, we kid-
called ourselves “alcoholics”.
If only then I knew more, and the future I would soon endure
because of the potion we poured and poured.
It wasn’t COOL to be a lightweight.
Some years later I bragged and I boasted,
over the amount of liquor I could intake.
“The only girl who could outdrink the boys”-
the girl, I’d someday unrelated.
She’d fallen for everything society had wanted to create.
“Popularity”.
Then came the day I knew would eventually arrive-
the day of realization and what it meant to be alive.
I no longer wanted to be COOL.
Because with each drink, the value of life was swallowed-
I never have felt
quite that hollow. As if
all the knowledge that once filled my mind
vanished.
I yearned for nothing but to go back to the days,
when I was uncool
and got
straight A’s.
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 3:52 PM UTC
I wonder who made you
The sun of my world
If not why does my world
Revolve around your light
And like the sun
Nothing comes close
I wonder who made you
The center of my gravity
If not why do I
And everyone around you
Get so dizzy
Around your laughter And of cos
The only one unflustered
Is you
Cos everytime you look
Or smile at me
I feel lightweight and high
And from up there
I can clearly see forever
I hope I'm at least a star
In your universe
Or maybe I'm one of your moons
Cos now i see my light
On everyone around me
Love.
Yours.
Jan 17, 2017
Jan 17, 2017 at 4:49 AM UTC
One dude's short, the other's tall
both are slim and that's not all
both are fat and both are jerky
both named Jim, I'd rather turkey.
What is it? It's Slim Jims. Yuck. Beef Jerky with Nitrates and heavy on sodium, I saw the Perky Jerky, (it's Turkey Jerky) at Home Depot and I had to have it. Lower Sodium. Good source of protein. Lightweight. and NO Nitrates!
Mar 8, 2014
Mar 8, 2014 at 7:24 PM UTC
Performing a storm
Is straining a chord, heart-string
Or a lightweight step.
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 1:48 PM UTC
There were times when I thought
For sure
That the feast of reality,
An all-you-can-eat buffet for the senses,
Was surely a mirage
In the thirsty desert of my cloudless mind.
Sometimes,
All I could do was lick my lips,
Rub my hands and scheme
Because it seemed
Too good
To be true.
I called your name
Once or twice;
The first time to see if you were there
And the second
Because I liked the way it tasted
On my insatiable teenaged pallet.
At first, it tasted like cheap ***
A sweet burn,
But enough to draw out the fine
Delicate strands of truth.
One kiss:
I'm fine.
Two:
The gears are loosened.
Three and I suppose the rest
Is history.
I am no lightweight,
But the words went straight to my head
And I am warm now--
Warm the way thieves are
When they steal
Supper,
Warm the way nuns are
When they smoke their
Cigarettes.
Warm because it's the idea
That something so wrong
Is now a basic necessity.
It's not so wrong, though.
Jan 20, 2013
Jan 20, 2013 at 1:30 PM UTC
So I'm drinking the red wine
I had those cut-up peaches
Soaking, fermenting in for 3 days.
A nice summer evening buzz,
Just back from my evening walk
Within the gates of my over-55
Lunatic Asylum.
On my rear porch in Hemetucky,
I chaise lounge the hours,
Listening to the mourning dove
Nesting in the bottlebrush bush.
I know she's there, having
Fired thru my duck blind,
My latest weapon of choice,
My new-fangled Flex Hose,
It expands when turned on.
Which got me thinking that the
Flex Hose inventor guy must have
Whacked off a lot as a teenager.
An Alex Portnoy protege, perhaps,
If familiar with Roth's book.
Portnoy's Complaint:
Most of us read it;
Some of us lived it.
It is pointless to speculate.
12 ft. Flexible Water Hose with
Nozzle-flxh-25 (4-00268...Home Depot
www.homedepot.com/p/12-ft-Flexible...
Hose-with.../204818892/The Home Depot
Rating: 1.8 - 14 reviews - $19.97 - In stock
"The Flexible hose automatically expands with water flow and contracts back to its original shape for storage. Lightweight and durable. The Flexible Hose will ..."
(That's right, a commercial right in the
Middle of the ******* poem.
This Poet refusing to die in the gutter,
Having finally figured out how to
MAKE POETRY PAY.)
But I digress.
Aug 14, 2016
Aug 14, 2016 at 2:16 AM UTC
I always thought I knew what cologne smelled like.
It was harsh and made my eyes water and nose burn.
All I knew is that my dad wore it religiously.
I always thought my dad wore cologne.
I was ten years old when I learned what whiskey smelt like.
I was sixteen years old when I took my first sip of whiskey.
It was weak, mixed with diet coke, but it still left my throat burning.
I never liked the taste, but when I brought the cup to my nose and smelt the bitterness and I saw the eyes of my father, I knew that the smell was so much worse.
It was that moment when I understood why people drank to forget.
That night I closed my eyes and I saw the black label of Jack Daniels Whiskey, I saw the long brown paper bags that my dad hid in the cupboards, I saw the coke cans littered around our trash can.
I was too young to understand, but with whiskey running through my own veins I connected each individual dot like each sign a constellation.
I set the cup down and winced.
My friends laughed, of course.
They didn’t know.
They’d never even guess.
They probably thought I was a lightweight, a girl who couldn’t even handle a sip of whiskey.
I smiled, too.
I don’t think I’ll ever drink whiskey again.
Dec 16, 2017
Dec 16, 2017 at 11:40 AM UTC
You are beautiful.
Every part of you.
Even your impossible anger flourishing through those once soft sultry eyes.
I've seen silent pools of 'sorry' and 'let's forget about it's leave your tear ducts and fall onto me cheeks.
As lightweight as they are I feel them. So much more abounding with grief and true regret.
Your words had stung me before and like the boy in that movie where he kicked the nest-I was. Attacked before but now it's much worse.
The bee stings were no longer puncturing needles but silver knives in my wolverine body cutting deep in my organs, vital or not they live while my howling soul dies in unforgiving puddles of shedding fur made of crushed promises- you will never hurt me.
It's what you said and yet those wrists-tight with anger in your veins-those palms. Engulfed with the flame of the hostility you dry swallowed unwillingly along with those pink pills now coursing through your nerves.
On my bare skin those fingertips- once gently kissing my broken woman hood the same finger tips that threaded shards of broken glass together as hard as it may sound you made it happen and now threading needles turn to swords breaking thread and laying down the shear, intense, excruciating hate and I know.
I know that the holes in your heart were filled by the smell of this garden you've managed after planting in this body after others took the sunlight and poisoned the rain and drenched them with laborious despondent trickles becoming tsunamis in this heart of mine.
In this very minute I thought I was important. Like a vital ***** But how could I be so crucial to you when you made me feel so minuscule but I stay maybe not close but always.
For now let me bleed out this strenuous hate so that I can come back stronger.
Get rid of those demons you hold so dearly in your head- jealousy, being your best companion, should not be your best man at our wedding in fireflies and heartstrings of matrimony - keep me safe. Safe from your demons.
And keep me safe, then and only then, may you keep
me.
Oct 28, 2016
Oct 28, 2016 at 7:43 PM UTC