"limelight" poems
If memories take time
Then I'm giving them away,
'Cause all I want's the closeness
Of thoughts from yesterday
If you turn your back to a tree
It falls, and you don't see
Is it different when you return to reality?
It remains that the tree is wood
The cores and rings and fibers still good
But I'm sure that doesn't matter
Because it changed the way it stood
I do my best to be unchanging
To coax you when you fell.
For friendship,I'd even let
You chop me down, as well
But you've sunken into shallow soils
Called these termites all your friends
And though it's your integrity rotting,
My memories have spoiled.
So think about that once again
When I've grown tired, and tough
Because height can give you limelight
But it's the roots that give you love
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 5:09 PM UTC
Sleep, sleep,
still your breath
and just sleep.
Sleep through
the drum-circle,
the neighbour's garden,
sleep through
the fever,
the sentence,
and the eventual pardon.
Sleep, sleep,
blot your eyes
and just sleep.
Sleep through
her hands touching,
the solemn submit;
sleep through
the wastelands,
the war-zones,
and sleep with the deficit.
Sleep, sleep,
in the castle keep, sleep.
Sleep for the potions,
the poisons,
the crimes you commit.
Too steep is the gangway
to an easier life,
too far is the leap
and too impossible, the wife.
Sleep, sleep,
still your mind
and just sleep.
Keep to
the sidelines,
with intellect deep;
fall to sleep
in the limelight
of your day,
for you have
earned your rest,
you have found your way.
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 9:10 PM UTC
An abstract gait
Surrounded by coils of binary and luminescence.
Suave, purple suits clasping to morphed skin.
Electrical vibes, transistors atomically sized.
Brain dives, the concept of thought diluted.
She can only wish it was palpable.
In a mirror mirage,
Static fumbles,
Repos the limelight.
Cyberpunk gen, neo-noir,
A relevant memento.
Deciphering the metaphysical is
Unattainable.
***** it all,
Maneuver the landscape.
Might as well enjoy the sights
In the nick of a quivering snap.
Jan 28, 2012
Jan 28, 2012 at 6:00 PM UTC
Twins of opposites, cradled upon
Darkness
&
Light,
Each brought up in the beauty
That beholds each,
Darkness looked upon all of it
Surrounded, it had beauties not
Seen, elegance beheld
The sky at night, the opposite twin
Sparkled,
Flickering,
Glints,
Gentle pin drops in the heavens,
Bringing a mergence of both
"A beauty to behold"
Down to earth all sleep
Embraced in the silence
Entwined in night,
The gift given away from light
And so
Illumination
Radiant
Light
Did end the time of darkness
And so one twin left for the others
Time so shine on and all was seen
In all it glory, but even in light there is
Darkness
But not of the twin, but of mankind's heart
It was a contrast of the twins,
Shifting,
Changing,
Mixtures
Of both at once, But light was good
For beauty shined through, every inch
It gave light, nurturing growth
That all reached for above
As if to touch the giver of life,
Darkness could have fun with light
Taking the sky up before the light
Eclipsing
Overshadow
Shrouding
Taking the limelight away from its twin,
But the mixture of both, excites
Those below, the spectacle of each
If only for a short time in the skies above,
So the twins are of Darkness and Light
Play with each ones given talent,
They were mischievous but each held
Their own beauty and dangers,
But they are twins of opposites,
From the beginning till the end of time.
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 12:08 PM UTC
Maturity is not a matter of how old, how smart or how successful you are;
It has everything to do with how well you manage walking through fire.
Maturity is not just the ability to have *** or not to have ***
It has to do with one’s ability to empathize, feel and connect with another human being, and balance one’s passion with compassion.
Maturity does not necessarily mean that you can support yourself in every each way.
But it does mean that you don’t base your peace and happiness on the emotional support, praise, affirmation or approval of others.
Maturity has nothing to do with how charming you are or how socially graceful you have made yourself to be; it has much to do with how you handle your own anger, fear, lust, greed, jealousy and other inner demons when you are away from the limelight.
Maturity does not mean to live one’s life seriously or cautiously all the time;
It is also to know when is the time to relax, to forget oneself and dance wildly as if no one is watching.
Maturity is not to value what the world values, or to despise what the world despises.
It is to see treasure in what the world discards, and magic in what is ordinary.
Maturity is knowing that one does not have to be “perfect” all the time;
It has to do with how well we take failure, rejection, betrayal and defeat and learn from them.
Maturity is realizing that one does not always have to agree with what everybody else believes in; it is the ability to formulate one’s own opinion, makes one’s own decision and having the courage to be different.
Maturity is not the ability to win many friends or attract many lovers.
It is the ability to generate joy and fulfillment from within, without relying on the company of others.
Maturity is the ability to enjoy one’s solitude and silence in the darkness of the night.
Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 12:53 AM UTC
STRANDED
Shards of glass and scraps of metal
As the sand finally settled
I stared at the plane; a total wreck
Stranded, in hot soup we had landed
Quickly, we fled
Thoughtlessly, we ****** ahead,
Onto a lost, unknown trail
Unaware of what time would unveil
Days flew by without notice,
Every drop of water was bliss
Several miles away from home,
Stranded in what could be our tomb.
Tears rolled down our cheeks
Definitely, our future was bleak
Death was hiding under every stone
We were terrified, hungry and cold
We soon got bored
Our hopes were dashed
The situation was rather like a game show
We were stranded and so full of woe
Soon, Superman came,
But it was nothing like the video games.
Oh, at least we were alright,
Far, far away from the crash site
We were soon in the limelight,
Part of international affairs, just overnight
With parents, we reunited
No longer stranded, but certainly undecided
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 11:17 PM UTC
Prom night
Hoping for limelight
No fight towards the
Alcohol fueled lust
We just want what's just
To break off some rust
To end the night wrapped in her/his arms
Waking up to a cheesy love story
But nothing gory no glory
Just the generic songs
Playing through the generic throng
Of people looking for more
Maybe the unknown
Possibly the gold throne
But in the end
Teenagers aren't hard to get
So we danced young
Like we'd live forever
And at the end of the night
We made our own stories
Jul 10, 2013
Jul 10, 2013 at 9:09 PM UTC
Writing out my every thought
For thousands of you I have bought
Your ink spilt on paper, forms such beautiful words
we could write amazing music, much like songbirds
You portray all my emotions
Which could fill many many oceans
Your ink, it comes in a rainbow of colors
When reading your work my heart flutters
You are, always there when I fall
Help me, for we could build mountains quite tall
Free like a butterfly
You leave a trail for everyone nearby
Beauty in your gracious flight
You are the victor in every fight
Building a skyscraper
As your point dances across paper
Its as if you know everything
You make me wanna sing
You show a world of pure imagination
Proving the beauty of creation
Drawing the blood from my hand
To write stories of wonderland
You are like a bridge of communication
You do this with much confrontation
Spewing life's essence with every swift movement
But staying in the limelight
You shout so loud, without even speaking
brain matter leaking
Leaving every brow furled because
You control this whole **** world
Jan 21, 2018
Jan 21, 2018 at 9:07 AM UTC
Loss of energy
don't seem to know what's happening
Was so bright
swear I had this kind of limelight
Now i feel blue with a deeper kind of hue
no motivation at all it's like
I'm stuck behind this **** wall
Lately I've been hearing this expression
they say it's called seasonal depression
But how can this winter's dew
all of a sudden make me feel this blue
Snow falling from the sky is exceptionally beautiful
how can they say that's what's making me feel so unusual
All these amazing things keep falling in my lap
yet for some reason all I want to do is take a nap
For days and days and days and so on
Sleeping is the only time which my energy isn't gone
Maybe it is this expression and in the summer my energy will come back
till then I guess I'll just have to lack.
Feb 14, 2018
Feb 14, 2018 at 1:04 PM UTC
There are beautiful souls
Somewhere in the limelight
Unexposed to the colorful world
Unwritten in any verse
Not tempted to hear
They are beautiful
Incarnation of angelic spirit
With noble decency
Beauty like that
Manifest rarely
You vibe that
Dec 31, 2020
Dec 31, 2020 at 7:17 PM UTC
She's thoroughbred hunger
From her double shift mom to her deadbeat dad
She tiptoes through junkyard junglegyms
Collecting alleyway beach glass
She learned to swindle
Haggled survival with the big guy
Big sisters traded on corners
She was one
Karma mustve forgotten
While doing rounds
She's got an invincible soul
Stitched of disappointments
Wrapped in sorrow
Hope as a bow
He's thoroughbred gluttony
From mommas limelight jewels to daddy's sin-shined shoes
He learned to swindle
To thrive
Wall street walk on the 99%
Politician promises
To impermanent faces
Costly trips
To extravagant places
Mixing up "enough"
With "more"
Looking for happiness
In a store
Though it seems to me
Whats made of life
Is what makes life worth living for
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 4:34 AM UTC
II Pet 1:9 coming to mind as I finished, lo, the complexity of this piece, and this: "...lacketh these things is blind and cannot see afar off--"
(sonnet #MMMMMMMCDXCIX)
How Shakespeare's lines 'non haunt the flag's detail
As't waves to bitter winds' capricious sense
Of play, with memries of late rallies thence
In tow, as all we'd grandly strut through'd pale
Before the empty eye of hours that scale
Down what we said was living, as pretense
Leers through the smoky limelight fading hence
Where leaves pile up too thickly for aught bail.
Is't cuz I've tried 'gain to be stylish fer
What fashion and say Vogue mag swore was due,
Tae learn my peers yet scorn attempts in tour?
Cuz even when I did succeed and do
All that "they" said should be, or called too poor
What we thought tops, Death mocks as ere we knew?
07Nov18a
Nov 11, 2018
Nov 11, 2018 at 4:27 PM UTC
Will it be shining again all blue water?
Now is up to the luck.
Far from the twilight beach the sun
jumped in the sea is out of the light out of colour.
Lest it dives out catching the moon in the dark!
Twinkly stars, the studded diamond set
up in the high sky softly whisper:
As dark descends, a new moon
can drown with blindfolded eyes
but never lose her sway!
Over the black canvas of the darkened sea
lapping up one more dwarf - a submerged sun,
the untouched moon comes out.
And by now all the half-lit light bulbs up in the sky,
the cherubic stars are mirrored upon the sea water.
Now will the moon paint its mystique blue limelight
or will toy away once again being untouched?
Apr 25, 2019
Apr 25, 2019 at 10:32 AM UTC
I know sometimes I sound like a black hole,
and my poems are only of unhappiness,
But i swear there are good days.
It's just that if I were to put the good days and the bad days on a seesaw,
The bad days would outweigh the good ones.
Their weight would keep them planted on the ground while the good days float 3 feet above with a smile on their face and a stupid halo around their head,
No fear of the word "fat" or worrying about taking up too much space,
And sometimes the bad days would get so low, they'd take their feet out from under them and hit absolute rock bottom,
Because what's the point of that support if it won't ever be good enough?
What's the point in living a life where nothing you do is ever good enough?
But the impact of the fall is so forceful that the bad days bounce back, Causing the good days to slam onto the ground while the bad days get just a sliver of what it's like to be in the limelight.
Sometimes the darkness needs to have their moment, even if it's only a millisecond long and they end up breaking their tailbone on the fall back.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that I seem to have a lot more bad days than good, but I swear I'm okay.
I find the strength to fight back and push the darkness upwards in attempt to save it from its bad reputation.
Turn it into art.
Offer it some adjectives and shiny words to make it feel better.
Share it proudly with the world to show that not every day is a good day.
That most of the time I am a mess
With a head consumed by a thick, dark, fog
Weighing me down so low that my thoughts are being dragged in the dirt on the playground as kids stomp all over me.
Giving me black and blues that only cause me to become darker.
But I will not let the bad days bring me down.
Instead I will bring the bad days up.
Because even the longest, darkest, tunnels have an opening.
Whether it be a small crack, or a staircase of light,
It is this darkness that gives me a purpose.
It is the darkness that gives me a light.
It is the darkness that gives me a voice.
Oct 22, 2016
Oct 22, 2016 at 3:21 PM UTC
*All I Am
I keep it sublimely real not living in a rush. Cos future belongs to me. _I live to make better thangs & make thangs better._ Reality the only place I go. Nothang had my prudent pen, _but to poured out some naked truth. I live 4 all I am._ All I am my personality. you see even my name chants my identity shine in limelight. _I'm a star, I live aboveground I shine in the moonlight._ Remember me eternal realist poet. When _you_ walk in the light!
--- Cloudnine Fairmane*
Sep 17, 2022
Sep 17, 2022 at 3:16 PM UTC
floating like the planets
our mouths twitch and our teeth
shine like venus
the love goddess hangs alone in space
light screams in the skies
end this venusian nightmare
and we admire the beauty of her desperate plea
marveling at how bright she is
brighter than our smartphones and
the dim reflection of the limelight in our eyes
our own citrus dreams tangy
with the kisses born in tearducts
and lit up by the cries of venus
please
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 7:04 PM UTC
Where will this take us now?
Is it us who outruly guiding us as we march dramaticly to the next room?
Will it be us who slams the door shut, or will we be boxed in with some automatic door opening and closing as more and more people come right in? Will we move along romanticing every little acomplishment we do, or will we morbidly and silently stubble on as we are poked and proded to keep moving? Will we finally rest as we see fit, or will we be told we have done enough? We all can easily anwser this in a way most people would generaly. We could stubernly and pridefuly declare that nothing shakles and moves us from one feeding trough to the next. We could so easily be just another rebel with a hollow cause that eagerly awaits to rip open the binds of all those around him, and finally take his spot in the limelight of respect and admirition. We can continue to dream and strive to be the philisophical moses of our generation, and lead our fellow brothers and sisters into a time where we all walk at our own pase, we all slam the doors we ourselves opened, and take any path we wish to travel in a way we feel best suits us. We could all be the one to hold on to the chains, or let the cattle go, but all of us are simply black sheep. So again I ask, who? I do not know, but I non the less seek an anwser.
Where will this take us now?
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 8:53 PM UTC
The world is a stage and life is a tragedy / and a comedy and a romance gone bad / and a love gone right until it has gotten away from us / and it’s ugly and cruel and its strange and beautiful and it twists and it turns / and we all got something burning inside of us /and we all got something to cry about / and we all got something to regret / and we all got something to smile about / and we all got something to sing about / but we move along like background actors afraid of center stage / afraid to feel all of our lonely rage / afraid of what will the audience think / afraid of stumbling on our lines afraid of tripping over our own heart beats / so afraid of dying in the limelight that we hold our breath and close our eyes and sleep without dreaming / and stay out of the spotlight and stay off in the wings / and what is it we’re living for by not playing the parts of ourselves / nothing but a shadow of who we could be / when will we all realize we can make our hearts into something bigger than a fist / that our heart can do something more than just beat / that we got the whole universe inside of us / and all we got to do is let it spill out / we don’t have to wait for our turn to be heard / we don’t need the permission of the director / we don’t need the applause of the audience / this is our life / this our stage / we got our own light dying to get out of us / we got gasoline running through our veins and we’re ready to burn from the inside out / and keep on burning and keep on burning and keep on burning / and dance along the fires of eternity / we don’t have to hold back who we really are / no matter how awkward or weird we may seem to be / there’s a beauty only found in those who find comfort in being strange / we don’t have to give in to normalcy / we don’t have to be complicit to the script of human cruelty / we don’t have to play soldiers in the war of wealth and greed / we don’t have to play the blind to the homeless and hungry / we don’t have to pretend to not hear the cry’s for help from those stricken with poverty / we don’t have to play the part of the enemies enemy / we can rewrite the script /we can turn the world around and stand in solidarity and find our way to unity / we can stand center stage arm in arm and let no one move us / we can tear down the facade / and open up the cage our minds have been living in / and fly free and fly too high and kiss the sun as we burn hotter and brighter and not melt into nothingness / and nothing can bring us down when we make our hearts into something bigger than a fist / when we open it and let all this love spill out and let all this love come rushing back in / simply by just opening our hands and reaching out to one another / sister to sister to brother to brother to mother to father to daughter to son to friend / and to stranger / and write everyday with compassion and kindness and empathy / and throw away the old script of human misery / and all take a bow / after we have made our hearts into something bigger than a fist
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 9:20 PM UTC
I'm treading in this wine
A forever never to last
Limelight wilts the roses
Thrown to stage
To stay red
Glory of the past
I am deeper in this
More than I ever
Thought I'd be
What happened to me?
What happened to
The world that once
Laid at my feet?
This is never what
I wanted, it's just
What I've come to know
To live some life
Of hollow glass
Doomed to the darkness
Never to glow
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 1:20 AM UTC
as graphic as yours
a slowly lifted skirt
a hand on her thigh
gliding up to her bare heaven
bare ******* with tense ***** *******
gasping sounds cries of yes yes yes
her hands on my man pride
stiffening in the limelight
a little more risque a spank on a bare
cute well formed ***
a ******* in the backseat
a tongue teasing a small cute slit
two girls and a ******
or two midgets and one twelve inch ****
the words loud raw pelvic **** me
yes yes yes
or is it more ***** to show the latest massacre
in a school 26 dead, or
a misguided american "Smart" bomb wiping out six doctors without
borders and 50 Syrians
or the lies of our politicians promising us the world so
we may vote for them , or a young girl who is naturally
getting experimental getting pregnant and giving up her baby for adoption because she did not get education or protection. And then she gets HPV and dies at fourteen from cervical cancer
or is it just me that thinks the nightly
news and the stumping of a bunch of lying hypocrites is more ******
than a bare ******
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 2:09 AM UTC
We gave because we feel that we must
We gave because we know it’s the right thing to do
We gave because we were corner into giving
We gave from the kindness of our hearts
Giving is not always a fear exchange.
occasionally we get shortchange
Giving is a guilty conscience: you give me something
I have to return the favor. Some givers like to
stay out of the limelight: that’s me
it’s best way out : no acceptance speech
No you
“shouldn’t have,
it was so generous of you
You are so kind to think of me".
Giving is like uncut rough diamond,
it never sparkles until it polish
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 8:18 AM UTC
The doors seem to be open, the room seems to pour out onto the lovely maple floor the woman of the house killed her husband on.
Writing is like drawing, you give so much time only to try to improve what's barely adequate and hardly deserving.
Much like her husbands love and his curly hair, not to mention the tasteless affair.
You can say you quit, you can throw a fit, but spotlights rarely move from the limelight.
Much like the fame driven actress, your morals weren't put into practice and Jesus wasn't there to act tactus.
Pennies weren't on his eyes, even after his demise.
They would have been stolen, had they attracted that bitter, mourning actress.
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 10:20 PM UTC
Thousands of doors are going
To open Today
After a Long Day
Of Sultry Dark
Slowly moving Clouds
But what it is!
As if the speed of the wind more than
A Hurricane
Extreme sound Rocking the Sky,
The Home
And the Expanding
Barren Field,
Repeatedly being Thunder Around
As far as I can See
Across the Horizon
The Rain has come down
As Cats and Dogs
Dim Light in the Room
Hope, despair shaken
Windows Open
Southern waves
Randomize the Poetry Books
Flying Pages,
Never before or after in the
The Scent of the Poetry
In the Air
Sky-word Sentences
I have seen my Reflection
In the Light of the Short
The past Knocking
On the Closed Door
To open the Wide Sky
You have sat down
In the Horizon
That has reminded
The First Love Poem
Where I read
And planted my Dreams
Bringing the garden
Roses,
Marigold,
Sunflowers
Where there the moonlit
Of moonlight has
Crafted the Dreams
Like an Imagination
As if,
Unclogging Peacock's Feather
But the sudden wind
Increasing the Velocity
Light has been Extinguished
Yet the Flame Alive
But don't see my Reflection,
In the distant Glass,
In the Poetry,
In the Words
In an Angular way,
Through the Windows
Rain coming into the Limelight
Put away the Poetry
And the Dreams
As the Books of Poetry has Seemed
Like the Stones
But Yet I'm waiting,
For The Next morning
Where the Hope will Come Again
In the Shining Smile of Light
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 10:06 AM UTC
A Volkswagen sinks in tainted ink
The purple bunny’s been painted pink
The hare is teetering on the brink
Of broken limelight square.
He rings the thing; it starts to sing
A duckling, suckling **** goes ping!
A nettle stings the bunny’s wing;
The duckling gets no share.
A shard apart that scarred the heart
Ripped out the one who passed the start
And darting past her cart, remarked
Upon her vacant stare.
A stare so vast that sticks and lasts;
She’s passed the post, she’s missed the mast,
What matters most: what’s passed is past,
Surrendered into air.
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 1:25 PM UTC