"loveliness" poems
I, dip my fingers in your honey sweet sap.
Steering your emotions with sensations of passion.
Loathing the moments in between, with the patience of a feind;
for the instant our flesh meet;
then going far in between --
filling your blossom with seed,
releasing you of your need.
Embraced by your fragrance,
entranced by the scent,
of your bitter sweet, sweetness,
both heaven sent --
dripping from my tip,
the essence of your tenderness.
entrenched by your loveliness.
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 8:40 PM UTC
I pick up the skirt,
I pick up the sparkling beads
in black,
this thing that moved once
around flesh,
and I call God a liar,
I say anything that moved
like that
or knew
my name
could never die
in the common verity of dying,
and I pick
up her lovely
dress,
all her loveliness gone,
and I speak to all the gods,
Jewish gods, Christ-gods,
chips of blinking things,
idols, pills, bread,
fathoms, risks,
knowledgeable surrender,
rats in the gravy of 2 gone quite mad
without a chance,
hummingbird knowledge, hummingbird chance,
I lean upon this,
I lean on all of this
and I know:
her dress upon my arm:
but
they will not
give her back to me.
39k
Perfection is terrible, it cannot have children.
Cold as snow breath, it tamps the womb
Where the yew trees blow like hydras,
The tree of life and the tree of life
Unloosing their moons, month after month, to no purpose.
The blood flood is the flood of love,
The absolute sacrifice.
It means: no more idols but me,
Me and you.
So, in their sulfur loveliness, in their smiles
These mannequins lean tonight
In Munich, morgue between Paris and Rome,
Naked and bald in their furs,
Orange lollies on silver sticks,
Intolerable, without mind.
The snow drops its pieces of darkness,
Nobody's about. In the hotels
Hands will be opening doors and setting
Down shoes for a polish of carbon
Into which broad toes will go tomorrow.
O the domesticity of these windows,
The baby lace, the green-leaved confectionery,
The thick Germans slumbering in their bottomless Stolz.
And the black phones on hooks
Glittering
Glittering and digesting
Voicelessness. The snow has no voice.
28 January 1963
20.6k
And in this courtroom
So filled with Four Nations
The Sun held her head up high,
Lighting the way for their tales and psalms:
I am the King of Spades.
Righteous ambition is my goal.
The bravery of the Spades is made known to others
Only through such matters.
Perseverance is our path to Victory
Endurance, our greatest desire.
We, the Spades, partner with Father Time
To belong as a mighty people
Forever more.
I am the Queen of Diamonds
The splendor and enjoyment of Life's beauty is my passion.
A Diamond's journey is a one of glorious awe
That no one can compare.
Loveliness surrounds this pretty people
And the Artist shall forever be pleased by them.
Our perception of artistry leaves most in awe
And this fact is forever the passion we strive for.
I am the Queen of Clovers
Survival is the sole lifestyle of the Clovers
In this wretched and unforgiving world
The Clovers must stay strong
Holding the clubs of the ancients,
We prevail
Onward shall we extend our power
The Clovers will remain
Forever the mightiest.
I am the King of Hearts.
The rapid spread of emotional ties
Is what us Hearts long for.
Threads of fate surround our people
Binding them to one another.
Love, lust, infatuation
Oh, these are the things that steady our nation!
So filled with Faith, Hope and Love
Our Hearts shan't fail us
As passion will never cease
To flow in our veins
—ah, yes!
This is the way of the Hearts.
And in this courtroom
So filled with Four Nations
The Sun laid down her head
Whilst the Moon finally awoke and,
Smiled his light onto them below.
Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 6:42 PM UTC
I come from sunlight,
The sweeping of leaves,
South London streets,
Lurburnum seeds;
Hot semolina,
A spoonful of jam,
Hands full of gooseberries,
That's who I am.
I come from rose petals,
The sound of the fairs,
The smell of candyfloss
Mist in the air;
I come from warmth,
My parents hands,
Outings to parks,
Both small and grand.
I come from knowledge,
True and false,
From nursery rhymes,
And stories and pictures of God;
I come from gentleness,
A quiet afternoon,
From visions of loveliness,
Sewn on a spool.
I come from two worlds,
With different ways,
A threaded pearl necklace,
And sensible soles
A mother and father,
I think I knew,
I came and I wandered,
I looked at the view.
By Mary **
Jun 19, 2018
Jun 19, 2018 at 7:33 AM UTC
In the murky depths of muck and mire
hope flickers in hearts
courageous enough to believe;
sending out ripples in the waters
like a domino effect rewound.
Insignificant seedlings to the cruel eye
filled with light and promise
as yet unseen turned
Fragile sprouts in healing green
reaching up and out
to rest hopes on the water front,
as if to console one another -
we are not alone.
Against all odds, bean of India,
Keep going –
Power through the sluggish resistance
Of this darkened plane.
Though life seems lost in loneliness
Listen closely,
Hear the Whispering rumours of life beyond the deep
Of basking in light and life
beneath the welcoming heat
of a dancing sun.
A triumphant act of faith indeed,
to content oneself with growing,
never really knowing
what lies beyond the darkness.
I weep for you
with joy, O little pocket of hope
as you propel yourself forward -
such strength, such courage
for one who as yet knows not
of that rosey happiness,
that snow white purity
that lies beneath your shell.
I stand in awe of you;
You with your absurd elegant beauty
tracing your journey
accepting it as part of yourself
embracing who you once were.
The original rags to riches tale;
Roots in putrid, ravenous foundations
yet you yourself remain unstained.
The journey every bit as beautiful
as your glorious destination –
a testimony to your essential self.
I see you take up your stance
Front and centre, finally ready
to declare yourself to the world.
Budding beauty of new life
awake! open your eyes, your heart,
you dont have to hide anymore
the world is missing who you are.
And time births healing and growth.
Every flower blooms at her own pace;
Tentatively unfolding - delicate and fragile still
with gentle colours begging will I do?
Caught up in a lighter life
becoming bolder, blessed, nurtured
blooming bright, opened out
hello world, here I am.
Your wary days drowned, you claim your space,
Fill your space,
Make it your own.
The ethereal splendour of your gentle petals
Succeeded only by the loveliness within,
As you build up your legacy of hope
So wonder will not be lost in the falling petals
but made more beautiful still
in the healing gifts,
in nourishing others,
in the gifts you give of yourself
back to the world.
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 5:44 PM UTC
Today I had a bout of acute-you shyness
one where I try to pretend I don't notice
but have you noticed how difficult it is
when outside idles but inside there's a race
to views like you leaning side to side
on the motorcycle ride slot machine
driving my eyes to sly around your slides
taking them wide as when I was eighteen
I'd look for curves at Southend pier's end
give out stares and start to take in scenes
of free amusement at the Fun Bump arcade
around and around the circuit you rode
I was lapping up your every move
sneaking a view through the coin drop
peeping behind the pinball of Dr Who
prying open the photo booth curtain gap
faux testing the mallet with your strength
playing air hockey with my thoughts
were your short chic bangs a wig?
they sit so still I long for the straights
then swing to one side with a leg
tight vibrant jeans in hairpin bends
ironing out where the centre line is damp
polishing the dashing leather saddle
vibrating with wrist twist contempt
loveliness revving up to red line
exploding in my face with daring
this bike crash heart of mine
please forgive not stopping staring
a race course habit never outgrown
I go too fast and of course I fall
in love as bad as deeply madly
but the fact that it's with you.. well
I have to forgive myself this malady
I'm a side-road heading for a spin
on ways to tell you you're beautiful
dangerously close I risk self harm
imagining that colour of pink and pale
the flush u-turn will be a charm
If I can get you climbing off
hot and flustered
I’ll have done my pit stop job
at once a chance encounter
and a fateful winning score
to let you know you've entered
into being my prize draw
I'll walk away but don't be sore
it's up to you to take it further
but just know one thing more
that if you call me to confirm
and tell me that I’m worth it
I would turn around so fast
the world would gearshift
and wait
but not in neutral
for us
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 1:30 PM UTC
and as the wilderness song
turns (and loveliness)
we are gathered
we
by the spirit
we
we in the wilderness
........
dabbled sky song she
she
who remains
free
.....
remain free
.......
love!
......
love!
......
......
remaining
renamed
"seed"
we
remain in purity
in the wilderness
we sing
of
all possibilities
......
we are strong
.......
Aug 24, 2011
Aug 24, 2011 at 7:20 PM UTC
Flowers preach to us if we will hear:--
The rose saith in the dewy morn,
I am most fair;
Yet all my loveliness is born
Upon a thorn.
The poppy saith amid the corn:
Let but my scarlet head appear
And I am held in scorn;
Yet juice of subtle virtue lies
Within my cup of curious dyes.
The lilies say: Behold how we
Preach without words of purity.
The violets whisper from the shade
Which their own leaves have made:
Men scent our fragrance on the air,
Yet take no heed
Of humble lessons we would read.
But not alone the fairest flowers:
The merest grass
Along the roadside where we pass,
Lichen and moss and sturdy ****
Tell of His love who sends the dew,
The rain and sunshine too,
To nourish one small seed.
6.8k
Where’s Madge then,
Madge and her men?
buried with
Alice in her hair,
(but if you ask the rain
he’ll not tell where.)
beauty makes terms
with time and his worms,
when loveliness
says sweetly Yes
to wind and cold;
and how much earth
is Madge worth?
Inquire of the flower that sways in the autumn
she will never guess.
but i know
my heart fell dead before.
5.7k
I saw those wildflowers you seemed to speak of.
Down that road you seemed to speak of.
On that bend, near that brook you seemed to speak of.
By that spreading oak.
All of this was spoke
by a closed mouth and hushed glance.
And those wildflowers
so wild in the white,
Starry in respite,
danced me into the night in fragile breath.
We spun, we spun,
The light drops and I,
to flail catch a bit of snow,
I lost them somewhere,
So wild in the white,
Flowers with their lightening dresses,
Tresses all alight.
The blended somewhere in there
So wild in the white,
Dancing on and into evening
Into the night, into the night.
Dear love,
how they brace me for a grace
that I cannot handle.
A grace, graceful
So pretty and then so pure,
those wildflowers you seemed to speak of,
and of yet so unsure.
They truly were beautiful beyond the words you never shared.
Don’t think upon your loveliness
Be sure, my love, be sure.
For those wildflowers were all of you
and your silence stored.
You and all your silence stored
that I so adored
I wish to seem to say right back
Of the way you seem to speak this way,
That down that road I know I find,
On that bend and brook I find,
Underneath the oak I find,
You to have and hold as mine.
Jan 5, 2012
Jan 5, 2012 at 10:09 PM UTC
I've told people not to let others
plant flowers inside them,
for they will leave,
and all the loveliness inside them
will wither and die
I've said it as if
it's the simplest thing in the world.
But clearly, it isn't.
And you don't get to choose
who will do it,
when they will,
or whether they will.
You won't feel it when they finally do.
One day you'll wake up
with a garden blooming inside you
until they leave,
and you've got nothing
but tears to water what they've left.
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 6:53 AM UTC
Forever I denied the loveliness of wildflowers. Never wanting to admit I admire their wild beauty at play or that I felt like I was one of their own. So I took a long slumber that lasted more then winter always denying thy name. Ever changing and ever growing deep inside my earthly darkness. Creating weeds and spreading external havoc across fields luscious and green. Believing wild to be a treacherous thing. All consuming and never steady, never perfect as a rose tended in a garden. But then I awoke one day from my slumber and looked across the wondrous sky. Seeing for the first time all the beautiful colors that wildflowers create- pink, blue, yellow, and golden orange mixed into seas of green. I knew then and there I was claimed. Forever growing, forever being- beautifully imperfect like a wildflower. Wildflower I sang- at last accepting my name.
Feb 4, 2017
Feb 4, 2017 at 12:54 PM UTC
Purple sheets of petal,
Softly glowing in the dark
Of almost night.
Softly touching my cheek,
the enveloping cloud
surrounds me like a neon cloak.
I can see your face
reflecting in an overflowing
purple pool of mist.
And petals gently plopping,
enveloping the image
of your loveliness.
(Jacaranda madness)
Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 12:26 PM UTC
Chrysanthemum,
Rose,
Buttercup.
Each morning he would guess a floret that might match
Her loveliness.
And every night,
When he pulled her close under
Periwinkle sheets
He would admit defeat.
"Of course how foolish I've been!
No Chrysanthemum can compete
With the way your velvet lips flood pink
After I kiss you, my love.
Not even the brightest rose
can compare to the sunshine
that pours from your soul
every day, my darling."
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 1:01 AM UTC
If the soul is dyed by thoughts, I will rest in my reason.
By following my just nature, I will let my desire find its termination.
For I am made of the stars. I will let my spirit shine.
I am a rising star, not a falling one. I am divine.
Nothing outside changes the value of my shining nature.
Despite criticism or praise, nothing shall perturb me.
My loveliness terminates in itself. My beauty evolves with the seasons.
I will love my nature. I will rest in my reason.
My flesh desires sugar, but sugar rots the soul.
To nurture the character of my mind, I’ll feast on the fruits of wisdom.
I’ll feed my soul thoughts ripe in virtue and I’ll let my spirit shine.
For tranquility is nothing but a good ordering of the mind.
I will not be troubled in any season.
When my flesh desires treason, I will rest in my reason.
Jan 24, 2023
Jan 24, 2023 at 12:53 PM UTC
There is a power that unveils loveliness
hidden in everything, even in ugliness.
An x-ray that shows you all the good
inside of things that normally would
seem so ordinary to the average eye.
You need to realise that beauty is shy.
You don't have to search the world to see her.
Just look with an eye that goes a little deeper.
Take the time to notice what no one else will.
It'll heal your heart. A truly amazing thrill!
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 3:26 AM UTC
I am ragged and
Dismembered
In velveteen splendour.
Assembled by a drunk,
Who couldn't remember
What loveliness
Looked like.
I'm too tall for my height.
You are pulpy and bright
Like today's magazines.
Your eyes are spotless like
Ironed jeans,
And they fold and crease
in smiles at me.
You find me funny.
I am sterile and naked
And aching with
Tension.
I'll bend into positions to
Get your attention.
I am fixed in the curb,
and you gather the nerve
to cope with my most
unnerving dimensions.
(I love you. I forget to mention.)
You've never indulged in
petty ***
You wrap my arms around
Your neck,
like I'm a scarf.
I make you laugh.
You've never been
out on the scene.
You've never found yourself
between two strangers
in a darkened room.
Bedroom theatre's not
for you.
Nor costume.
You've never smoked.
You've never drank so much
You've choked
on hot-bodied ***** and
collapsed in the road.
You had four pints of
beer
and I watched you explode.
From your skin I lick atoms of the sky and shampoo.
You are dripping with hygiene,
You are clear, you are blue.
In mirrors you stand and watch me watching you.
Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 2:00 PM UTC
.
Thy loveliness be fyne arte
powdered 'pon a velvet page.
Thy heart doth sing lullabies
penned in a lovers cage.
Thy loveliness be crystal jewels
studded 'pon a silver thread.
Thy breath doth fan the fyres
stitched in a lovers bed.
Thy loveliness be sweet dreams
strewn 'pon a meadow fair.
Thy nature doth perfume give
flowers in a lovers snare.
© Pagan Paul (14/06/17)
Jun 14, 2017
Jun 14, 2017 at 9:42 AM UTC
The Kiss
Poison
Long lasting
Stinging
Loveliness.
A moment
Lasting
Forever
Yet
So quick.
Hearts
Beating
Throbbing
Fluttering.
Lips
Tangled
Locked
Harmonizing.
Minds
Fuzzy
Confused
Yet
definite.
Bodies
Warm
Close
Touching.
Memories
Existant
Looming
Forgotten.
The Kiss
~S.C. Kelley
Oct 28, 2018
Oct 28, 2018 at 1:49 AM UTC
A young spring-tender girl
combed her joyous hair
'You are very ugly' said the mirror.
But,
on her lips hung
a smile of dove-secret loveliness,
for only that morning had not
the blind boy said,
'You are beautiful'?
4.3k
Unwillingly Miranda wakes,
Feels the sun with terror,
One unwilling step she takes,
Shuddering to the mirror.
Miranda in Miranda's sight
Is old and gray and *****
Twenty-nine she was last night;
This morning she is thirty.
Shining like the morning star,
Like the twilight shining,
Haunted by a calendar,
Miranda is a-pining.
Silly girl, silver girl,
Draw the mirror toward you;
Time who makes the years to whirl
Adorned as he adored you.
Time is timelessness for you;
Calendars for the human;
What's a year, or thirty, to
Loveliness made woman?
Oh, Night will not see thirty again,
Yet soft her wing, Miranda;
Pick up your glass and tell me, then--
How old is Spring, Miranda?
4.1k
armed and dangerous, 20 oz. of hot hot coffee, tablet on lap,
sitting on the deck overlooking the bay, and once again,
unusual for me, I am touched by the sanctity of the serenity
pervading, assuaging, by waves just loud enough to sway to,
the off/on chatter of the early bird's convocation of the morning's
blessing, have survived another night to greet greatly the outlines
of loveliness in the all~of~surroundings, which hacks my brain,
for I am by forty years of habitation more accustomed to a rough and tumble city boy trader, screamer of:
buy/sell/straddle/strangle/crush/kill/mercilessness, no quarter,
no mindfulness in me naturally, until nature robs my tools of
denial, and I smell the sanctity of fresh sheets laid on bed, the
warmed blood, vein coursing, suggesting just listen, listen,
the hot shower water eradicating the prior day's sinfulness,
the highly valued sensations of sensational emptiness, and
words drifting from the surround movie theater of a vista beloved,
coming for to fill and fulfill this always~in~mourning soul by the
overhauling of a crisp, cleansing day break
I, familiar with notions of perpetuity, and at best, conceptual, though
my mind permits a drift to the thoughtfulness that this place, this moment, this performance art of spectacular breathing of another
dawning day, after thousands upon thousand of its predecessors,
and the possibility, not remote, but not promised, to anyone, just may
occur at least once more, and one must learn contentment from but
that idea, and sip the cooling dregs of coffee, the sounds of human
interference, car door slamming, the heaving breathing of morning joggers, the wind rising, the white caps snapping, precursors and
signs that natural perfection is never permanent, always in transition,
and a whispery smile crosses my cheeks, as a silly thought invades,
nature is so very human~like and yet, immortal…
composed between 6:30 and 8:30 am this day
Wed Aug 20 twenty twenty-five
Silver Beach
Aug 20, 2025
Aug 20, 2025 at 8:34 AM UTC