"liken" poems
I would liken you
To a night without stars
Were it not for your eyes.
I would liken you
To a sleep without dreams
Were it not for your songs.
94.7k
I would liken you
To a night without stars
Were it not for your eyes.
I would liken you
To a sleep without dreams
Were it not for your songs.
13.4k
If your favorite flower is the rose
Do you not then liken yourself to a rose
Is not your beauty equal to that of the rose
Behold I stand perfect beauty
A white rose among the thorns
Behold I stand for you to see
A perfect beauty inside of me
If mine favorite flower is the orchid
Do I not then liken myself to the orchid
Is not my beauty equal to that of the orchid
Behold I stand handsome beauty
A black orchid among twisted roots
Behold you stand for me to see
A handsome beauty inside of you
A single petal of the rose so delicate of it self
A single petal of the rose so flawless of it self
Delicate beauty equaled only by delicate perfection
Flawless beauty equaled only by flawless grace
A single petal of the orchid so sensual of it self
A single petal of the orchid so ****** of it self
Sensual beauty equaled only by sensual grace
****** beauty equaled only by ****** perfection
Where there is white rose there is you
Where there is black orchid there is me
White Rose Black Orchid You and I
Wherever you go there too will I be
Does not the rose equal your grace
Does not your beauty equal the rose
Does not the orchid equal my strength
Does not my strength equal the orchid
Doth not the white rose possess the black orchid
Can not they bee one can not they be the same
Doth not you have mine heart
As the white rose has you
Doth not I have your soul
As the black orchid has me
The orchid has fallen for the rose
Has fallen for the orchid
And in my field of white roses
You stand a sultry orchid black
If only to look if only to feel
If only to hold if only to love
A rose white is me this night
Take from me this rose white
This rose white this orchid black
Together as one we cant take back
Dec 18, 2010
Dec 18, 2010 at 9:23 AM UTC
In the night, those shadows come alive. So little do i know about this heavy doubt.
Cold wind biting the heart. Trying to figure out where I've been.
Dark winter pulls me closer, now theres a place i'm thinking into the air.
A voice calling, "Who knows but that which seems omitted today, waits for tomorrow?"
Nothing is as it seams, just as beauty leans from the earth in a sunset--a harp for the soul to sing.
But You are life and you are the veil.
Beauty is eternity gazing at her self
But you are eternity and you are the mirror.
And if you want to know truth retire of solving riddles.
We wanderers, ever seeking the lonelier way,
begin no day where we have ended another day;
and no sunrise finds us where sunset left us.
Even while the earth sleeps we travel,
back into dreams.
Ay, my bow rests on my chest.
There is the flame spirit among a starry mountainside.
Oh it was but yesterday we met in a dream. You watched as I built a ship towards your shore.
My spirit goes wandering upon the wind, off to the desert sands, deep beneath the ocean's sound.
I am the gypsey and the fortuneteller, liken an honest thief. No I'm the myth builder and dream master.
who laughs with me when I destroy,
the sand castles of my innocence. The
sun warming my back just as the wicked, and drawing my image locked in a shadow.
Here the soul a battlefield, where
reason and passion become one.
they are the sails of my seafaring soul.
There I found the naked body of my dreams, in silent sleep my spriit walked the path.
I am the star-gazer who feels the power of endlessness, Aware of timelessness and
neverending space. The love in me still
present amidst the scattered fires that
burn in black ink.
Just as the caveman draws his fears on lost walls, speaking of misfortune and
treasures gallore. A fantom ghost in Hade's Fate.
Now my ship wanders forever on a pearlous course but never sinking.
Oct 29, 2012
Oct 29, 2012 at 12:47 AM UTC
JOHN KEATS’ LAST POEM WRITTEN IN ROME ON 21st February 1821*
(From The Imagination Of The Writer)
I am fading, fading fast, Fanny, my love eternal
Far away from you and home
I am dying, the hours I am counting
In what I liken to my grave that is Rome.
All that I seek in this dark loneliness is solace
Moments of respite thinking
Of you and our past exchanges of affection
Dissolved by fate with our hopes descending
Unto the oblivion that had been pre-ordained
Tears are comfortless and what is to come
Is but this pain that seared love must bear unknown
Only self-felt and suffered without end that renders my heart totally numb.
I can’t understand and it defies reason
The human heart should bear so much pain
While the tranquil stars hold so steadfast and the song
Of the nightingale drifts so sublimely in every sweet refrain.
Youth once gaily clothed in such beauty but now
Grows spectre-thin and here is but fret and fever
Where the old and infirm hang their heads down
In tearful reminiscences of happy days that have fled forever.
And now, my ***** my only love, you alone in this
The saddest schemes of things should share
This my life so wretched , lost, unfulfilled and joy-bereft
I beg forgiveness, only remember my poems—sorrow let us silently bear.
John Keats one of the greatest English romantic poets died on 23rd February 1821 in Rome, aged twenty-five
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 8:12 PM UTC
Like this.
Like that.
Like this
likes that
that likes
these & those.
Liken this
to that
lichen which
grows
so slow
over corpse & stone,
the likes of which
so few know
or like, let alone
love, like
we know
we should.
Jul 30, 2010
Jul 30, 2010 at 5:36 PM UTC
Favorite word: “nymphet”, but no!
Halcyon, a kind of drug, you know.
Searching through the pages’ mist
And imagined deeds
Of poets’ needs…
I found my favourite word,
As asked,
Neither sacred nor profane
That describes the Venetian rain
In my beloved’s eyes
And the Florentine sun upon her hair:
“Auburn, russet, mythopoeic”.
Oh, it is not fair,
To liken an object
Of my lust and love
To anything as mortal as autumn air!
Nor “October’s orchard Haze”;
She had her own
Inscrutable, premeditated ways!
Rather let me say that she was perfect,
Though her eyes, pale and myopic,
Her shuffling gait and
Graceless limbs, to them Grace lends
Fey charm, the power to mend
My suffering and
Delusions of a poet’s end
As anything but pathetic,
(Her mother’s fondness for vague emetics)
And I left softly hanging,
On a girl’s new taste,
A tang of russet apples on her face,
But no, not that, the sum
Of my love, My Lo!
Then her bleak demise, partly by my hand
That none of you brutes could understand;
The pure love,
So sadly consummated,
Between a lover
And the one she hated
Yet loved once with inexplicable delight,
On one stolen, frightened night…
In which the two of us agreed
To satisfy a simple, yet maniacal need,
And then depart…
But I could not,
You see;
She was my life,
My love, my heart.
Humbert Humbert 1950
Sharon Talbot ca. 2005
Sep 9, 2017
Sep 9, 2017 at 11:11 AM UTC
He has a bad attitude
But he wears the blame on other people
He never tried the blame on for once
Maybe it never crossed his mind
Or he thinks he's too right to ever do wrong
I liken him to a blind man
Looking at several mirrors
But could never see himself
And calls all the mirrors blind
Maybe the bad attitude is not the problem
But that he is blind to see himself
Or arrogant to accept his wrongs
And that he's not a flower but thorns!
Jan 8, 2019
Jan 8, 2019 at 6:37 AM UTC
I got a lil buzzed a lil ****** but not enough and not in time I’m covered in oceans of emotion I can’t keep up with these tides anymore pulling me out to the brinks in my mind I’ve never been afraid of drowning but it’s the lifeguards putting my head under why did I think I could swim I never should have trusted the ones who taught me should have learned how to breather underwater but I’m no mermaid I’m no better I’m not equipped for this please just let me burn burn burn
I don’t want my turn to win top trophies I never even wanted in the game who told you to put me in I cannot out play you cannot withstand this heat I talk like I like it I don’t mind it I just don’t want to be the center of the roasting *** I’m blocking kicks and getting punched I’m throwing fists they hit the heavens fall back on me liken frozen fury a storm I’ve been living in a game so sick you never make it out alive I try to die don’t choo know the rules I try to die who put you here don’t choo know I’m the underdog that hasn’t won yet
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 4:26 PM UTC
Zindagi ki piyala itna borha nahi hai
ki uski andor me lehron ki mujhme
nodia beh sakta hai.
Likhen uski andorme ek bindu
pani bi nahi itna chota
ki isme sagor bon nahi sakta.
Koi yaro achanok milta hai to bolta
kitna chota hai ye donia
Ye mitti andorme bi kya borha?
Khodo to isme kobor bonta hai
Liken agor Mawla chahe to ye
mitti se bi Adam bon sakta hai.
Somundor to somundar
shabnam (dew) bi Subhan Allah!
Aaj kaha aj reh ta hai kal ** jata
Kal ko kisi ko kiya pa tha
Thalu aftab (sunrise) ki canvusme
Ankhi dal kor job sham dol jata hai
Kisi Ko zulf ke saye me bemalum
Kitne ankhi khu ja ta hai
Kis andaar goliche chad aa ta hai
Kiso ki kiya pa tha hai
Liken mera bhi kitna khush naseeb hai
Khali hate aakor bi itni kimti herat angaiz
(amazing) majlish me ek hishya bhi mila.
Mawla karega keyse Aap ka shukrana
Alhamdulillah kiyanat ki Rab taarif Aap ka, Aap ka!
May 18, 2021
May 18, 2021 at 6:07 PM UTC
i am allergic to washing up liquid
and lovers who taste of day old liquor
unfortunately
neither have a warning
‘may cause irritation’
weary desperation
to scrub clean
every thought of us remaining
my hands are sore from rubbing
my eyes are bloodshot too
crying
sharp hot tears of
glistening glass, cutting at my cheek
every shattered word you said
a piercing pool of lies
next time
will be different
raised voices as high as the expectations
sober me from you
i’ll go cold ’til i no longer feel you rushing my system
addictive coffee skinned boy
drunk on the idea of forgetting you
maybe this relationship be a blur like the night before
that's how I would liken it
maybe we'd be happier surviving on the memories alone
drink me down
throw away the bottle
i can only imagine how your head feels from the hangover
well that's how my heart feels
over
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 4:37 PM UTC
Passions are liken’d best to floods and streams:
The shallow murmur, but the deep are dumb;
So, when affection yields discourse, it seems
The bottom is but shallow whence they come.
They that are rich in words, in words discover
That they are poor in that which makes a lover.
3.2k
Hedons liken to sound.
The hungry cadences wielding that satisfying resolution.
The resolution we seek in between memories
and the spirit of the staircase.
Are we intricate bodies
or are we intricate worlds,
full of all you have ever known.
What is that sound?
I may be defined by my actions
but my actions are defined entanglement.
Some soft note
huddled under a hard and heavy chord.
Then victory comes in the 42nd measure
and is defeated in the next.
All of us can make noise
but nobody can be heard.
Even the altruist is selfish to an ideal,
I want then only to make music.
Aug 24, 2013
Aug 24, 2013 at 9:06 AM UTC
in geography we learnt that there are
plates under us
drifting in underlying motion
it is said that when collided
brings with it an
ecstasy of disasters
i liken to how i feel at seven pm
on the train home
from work
practice balancing on metal plates
as faded sceneries
unwind before my very eyes
the occasional crash into strangers
brings with it a divergent of
careless intimacy
nothing stays long enough for a smile
just floating heads
a flurry in their tragic minds
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 9:39 PM UTC
You stopped responding at my second
jesus **** joke, but I didn't care,
and I was the one at work. Aces.
Even vacation is stressful for you,
although I'll admit my humor isn't great,
but amongst friends I'm hysterical.
I only have about a handful,
and they're all ******* weird as me
except for a couple or several.
I'm not a big fan of most people I root for,
I'm terribly sarcastic, and if I love you
I might want you to fall on your ******* nose.
It's a fifty-fifty split,
or seventy to thirty.
I'm a ravenous cannibal when
I put words down to something tangible.
I'm also late to work or early,
and all my friends get my friends jobs
right before we leave or get fired
or get too poor to stay where we are.
It's a horribly satisfying way to live
but a ******** way to want to die.
I'm a coward and a liar with great hygiene,
I liken myself akin to the noble cockroach,
because I'm a nuclear survivor!
And the post-apocalypse started
right after Hiroshima, and now they
watch or **** everyone,
and people police people.
If you can't afford the rent stay with strangers
or starve to death on the streets while
middle class lunatics watch you evaporate
"rationally" as bystanders in a new world war.
It's not even a subtle genocide.
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 6:46 PM UTC
I am a ***** of the very worst kind
Not of *** and promiscuity
A ***** of my own
Creation
You come up on my radar
Latch
Seek
Destroy
And you will never know
Each and every one of my
Dead lovers
Never loved me back
Tear them up
Spit them out
Abandoned
Just like me
But I hurt
I feel emotion
Like clods of dirt
Inside my chest
Rip it open
Scream at each
Small thing
Wrong thing
I want only this
That I can never have
Curses
Plagues
Dead
Ex-lovers
Stars in their eyes
That look past my
Efforts
Hints
Advances
I am invisible
Invincible
Or so I like to think
The invisible *****
You never saw me coming
Till I cry these three tears
Drop
Drop
Drop
Two from the right
One from the left
Just like the rest
So many to name
That wouldn’t even know my
Hurt
Abandonment
What have you done to me?
Nothing
It is I
Only I
Want so desperately
To touch
To be touched
3 little tears come from
Within this cold hard
Clenched fist
Wetting my palm
Trying to escape
Flung at your calm
Silent face.
I want to be empty
I want to not feel this
Gift.
Emotion.
In the pit of my stomach
Back of my throat
Behind these eyes
Sick
And they fall
One
Two
Three
The time it takes to
Break
Die
Latch
Seek
Destroy
I am on a rampage
To eat each man up
Bone by bone
Flesh and blood
Thoughts and loves
Till I spew it all back out
To every person I meet
I am a ***** of the very worst kind
I’ve been everywhere
Nowhere
Inside everyone
No One
You cannot pay for me.
I’m too cheap.
You do not want me
I am curse
Brought on by
Liars
Abusers
Molesters
I am the product of
A past
Mistakes
And I want you to
Make me better
But I become
Worse
Liken me please
To those on the street
Full of disease
Because I am worth
Nothing
Of your time
Energy
Nothing
And I expect
Nothing more
Than this
Agonizingly
Painful
You
Are just like
Everyone else
That I never wanted you
To be
So much more than
Dead
Ex-lovers
Death from their lips
In long streams of wire
Attached at my wrists
Ankles
Binding me
Cutting deep
Blood
Red
Stains like my shirt
Cutting me
Scarring me
Until I feel so much
Nothing
And uncountable tears
Flood cities
Destroy taverns
Come knocking
Breaking free
Again
And again
And again
And you are
The same
As those
Starry-eyed, wire binding
Dead
Ex-Lovers
So much alive
Reminding me of every
Failure
Each scar on my wrist
In the form of a name
And now you join the rest
In this shallow unmarked grave
You are alone
With them
And I will
Consume this hurt
Like a breakfast
Of nails and tacks
Each bite will puncture
The last remaining composure
Till I am nothing once again
Radar
Radar
Detecting
Latch
Seek
Destroy
All over again
The very worst kind
Aug 13, 2011
Aug 13, 2011 at 6:58 PM UTC
Let lore luster lax,
Lingered love leavens.
Let love loop lilac lei lavishly.
Listen lovelorn lilt, laconic liken
Lisping liturgy, limping litany.
Litmus-leaking longing, languor lengthened.
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 1:28 AM UTC
I am just a toddler in the sandpit of time
I shimmer slightly in the night
and sometimes sparks fly
I am a mono clastic fire
so hurting with desire
that I will never fulfill
So as the sound of drums beating begins
I stand back on my feet
spread my wings liken to a phoenix
to do it all again
Been broken
but always seem to repair myself
just a toddler in the sandpit of time
Bu Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 8:21 AM UTC
I liken our young teenage writers here to rose buds
Then visualize those rose buds in full bloom
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 5:31 PM UTC
The wheel spins slowly to a stop
traffic screeches to a halt
the aslant to this crime
is now far away, speeding across town
Another monday hit and run
another angel of death on wheels
this weekly occurrence
in this city of steel
Euthanasia is banned here
yet the maniacs on four wheels
want to finish what they started
they want to finish you and me
So they drive with headlights flashing
their horns blaring liken to speed demons
dive friend if you can, out of the way
for they pay tax for these road ways
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 8:03 AM UTC
Dancing raindrops carried on the wind.
In plies and pirouettes they danced.
Romancing the winter rain and biting wind.
Two of a violent kind...unkind.
Bouncing on a bungee rope unseen by human eye.
Exploding on the slabs of pave.
One wet freezing rave.
Bungee on the whirling winds.
Crystals crying icy raindrops liken to fiery hell they do descend.
Lashing cold legs with scars of cold.
Marking their mesmerizing chill.
The land no-one inhabits by choice.
Only the wind has wailing voice.
That bitter wind.
So full of awesome force!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 2:19 PM UTC
I created for myself
a most delicious death
one of the delirious mind numbing kind
for I need to break my wings once more
Think not that this write dear friends
do not think that this is a cry for help
I am one of those that is capable
and do choose my own fate
Look into my black eyes
there is such a delicious death
hear my screams liken to a Angel
as I scream her words in my last breath
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
By NeonSolaris
© 2013 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
Aug 31, 2013
Aug 31, 2013 at 2:32 PM UTC
They say hell is not a place
But they liken it to fires
That constantly purge and burn
Kind of like our minds
And if I had a dime
For every human's ***** thought
I'd have a copper-nickel planet
With a thousand moons or more
And if this heart is my tabernacle
Could I withstand the day eternal
Or would I just become another
Abscess, maniacal
Cause like the space they claim is there
Around me all I see
Is a whole lot of nothing
Interspersed with dying breeds
And what they don't tell you
Either Or don't exist
We're all right as a button
And all wrong as an implanted chip
And just the other day
My lack of energy
Got a dead clock to start
And a bruise on my knee
So ship me where there is no one
South of the Antarctic cause
I want to see some sundog halos
And play with diamond dust
They say hell is not a place
But they liken it to fires
That constantly purge and burn
Kind of like these times
Nov 19, 2011
Nov 19, 2011 at 6:01 PM UTC
Perhaps comparisons to you, m’ love,
will be of such fluttering birds with their
silken pearl plumage; soft and fragile dove.
I would challenge those who with this compare.
To do so would create such metaphors with
something mild and predictable, delicate.
You are not breakable or dainty, keen scythe.
You are a graceful storm to not abate.
Mayhap I could liken you to a blade,
a dagger wrapped within smooth satin.
To a deathly flower; lethal nightshade.
For to a white swan you are akin.
Know that a dove is equal your beauty,
yet you are deadly elegance, truly.
Jul 22, 2016
Jul 22, 2016 at 11:38 AM UTC