"manages" poems
Orange, the perfect color for me.
The odd one, the bright one.
Fire is orange and I have fire in me.
Orange is beautiful, I am too you see.
Orange always manages to stand out,
I too stand out,always wanting to fit in.
A tear tickles my chin,
as the thought of never to fit in
swims in my mind.
A friend is what I need,
a friend in orange I always find.
Because you see, orange is the color for me.
Nothing will ever rhyme with orange,
and nobody will ever choose me.
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 1:57 AM UTC
Mixing tea, let's say lavender with something as simple as milk
Must sound silly and weird at first glance, as both come with their
own tastes and flavors which seem to not match at all.
Even the most unmatching couple can find bliss, harmony and
perfection in their very relationship, however.
Such as for the tea;
The milk manages to soften, embrace, advertise the taste of lavender
while leaving a pleasant aftertaste which is alike a ghost poorly
detectable, but present nonetheless after all.
With some sugar to sweeten this experience, it becomes divine,
something I would never have thought of, of such an odd couple.
The image of the lavender becomes overdrawn by the milk,
Engaging in a pure, creamy, brief white which reflects light just
in a majestic sense.
This is a taste to become lost in whilst reading a book in the best
of lightings, together with someone who causes your heart to race
and just turn ablaze
~ Umi
Feb 6, 2018
Feb 6, 2018 at 2:25 PM UTC
it wasn’t chaotic.
it was calm and serene,
like the ocean.
the soft pitter patter
of the rain on the roof,
and the cool air it brought.
it was a sip
of freshly brewed coffee,
natural with no additives,
whatsoever.
the gut feeling
of knowing where home was.
and that is how
you came into my life.
the star that shines the brightest
amongst the pitch black sky.
it’s the white cloud that outshines
all the gray and gloomy ones.
the perfect fit of the last piece
to the unfinished puzzle.
it's the warm, fuzzy feeling
of getting into bed
early on a Friday night.
and that is how it was
when I started loving you.
it’s like a deeply cut wound,
one that’s inundating
with crimson colored blood,
having a tinge of maroon.
it induces pain
with every inbreathe
and exhalation.
it manages to have
the appearance of a scar,
yet it still feels so fresh
like a bruise.
and that is how it felt
when you left.
it was filled with haze
and suffocation.
the uncontrollable fast paced beat
of your heart.
Mona Lisa's enigmatic smile,
one that is hardly understood
by majority of the world.
a bite of dark chocolate,
bitter and sweet.
and this is my survival.
Jun 6, 2017
Jun 6, 2017 at 5:56 PM UTC
Always it happens when we are not there--
The tree leaps up alive into the air,
Small open parasols of Chinese green
Wave on each twig. But who has ever seen
The latch sprung, the bud as it burst?
Spring always manages to get there first.
Lovers of wind, who will have been aware
Of a faint stirring in the empty air,
Look up one day through a dissolving screen
To find no star, but this multiplied green,
Shadow on shadow, singing sweet and clear.
Listen, lovers of wind, the leaves are here!
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One friend is deaf but manages to hear twice as much as I do,
while simultaneously embedding himself in games and genius.
One friend is kind and smart, always complimenting and supporting others before herself.
One friend is quiet, and she is both easily embarrassed
and easily embarrassing.
One friend is the previous friend's brother,
and crushes on me while never saying enough.
One friend is very intelligent and geeky,
and detests wearing skirts even more than I.
One friend is really in your face and dramatic,
pushing the boundaries on everything, but noone hates him.
One friend is the unfortunate brother of a great annoyance, but is her polar opposite.
One friend has hair of constantly changing color;
blue, green, pink, black, yellow, brown,
but always the same hoodie no matter her hair choice.
One friend has a thousand faux laughs,
but guards his true one from the light.
One friend has a mocking joke for everything,
and you can't help but laugh with her.
One friend has a treasured hat and while sketching everyone, everything, and everywhere, lays my insecurities to rest as I do the same for him, both of us in need of some love
and understanding from a kindred spirit.
One friend has an obsession with a band and a book and a show, and an overbubbling enthusiasm for everything in her life.
One friend has a meme for everything,
and a perverse thought for every situation he encounters.
One friend is half blind but she manages to see twice
as much as me and explains everything beautifully.
One friend is crazy and gets away with the exclamation of abraham lincoln in any awkward silence because its just his nature.
One friend is as a mouse, but a genius in every aspect
and hides behind her glasses.
One friend is obnoxiously loud and more of a dork than the gangster his hoodie implies so everyone simply laughs.
One friend smiles like a duck in the cutest way,
and wears her square glasses in the best way.
One friend longs for a love that is loyal
and hide s behind his temperment
Sep 22, 2012
Sep 22, 2012 at 5:58 PM UTC
As dusk sets on this pasture
somehow a burger wrapper manages to find its way back home.
This sense of vapid euphoria sets in among the cows,
as they all gather to greet their brethren...
So different in form,
yet it's as if the farmer never took him away
in the first place.
And as I sit at this desk
under a parade of fluorescent lights,
I can't help but be ushered down the hallways of my mind.
Life cycles, yet is a burger any less of a cow?
Now I can greet the trashcan with a new found sense of kinship.
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 3:15 PM UTC
Fire, water, air; are all
Elements that make man stand tall
Joy, sorrow, grief that burns
Swallows him whole as the world turns
Emotions buried within his heart
Is as marvelous as is art
His mortal body shrinks as it ages;
He does everything he can, so it manages
His blood, his brain, and all parts of his main--
The soul departs but they remain
So why after death does man not stand?
His components are there, don't misunderstand!
If you believe not in a soul beneath
What then is underneath?
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 7:48 PM UTC
The parasympathetic nervous system
is responsible for regulations
unconsciously transpiring
within the organs and
the glands of
the body.
Such as:
urination, salivation, digestion, defecation, and
lacrimation
(noun. ‘the flow of tears’. Latin.
from lacrimare (‘weep’) and lacrima (‘tear’).
It’s why I cry
even when I don’t want to.
You are the parasympathetic nervous system.
The (ortho-)sympathetic nervous system
is responsible for the mobilization
of the fight-or-flight response
and constantly maintaining
homeostasis within
the body.
It acts
rapidly, enacting an attempt at stability and
the necessary and critical ability
to suddenly escape
on pulsing legs or
cling to survival through
brandishing adrenaline-doused knuckles
and dilated pupils.
It’s why you live
even when you don’t want to.
I am the sympathetic nervous system.
The parasympathetic and sympathetic nervous systems
are two of three essential nervous systems which
compose the autonomic nervous system
(a part of the peripheral
nervous system)
that manages
involuntary
functions of the body. Such as:
swallowing, perspiration, arousal, breathing, and
heart rate
(noun. ‘the speed of the heartbeat’.
usually expressed in beats per minute. mine speeds up when I see you).
Individually these two systems oppose
but compliment
each other like our hands do—
pressed together and omitting equal force;
veins meeting
at the fingertips and throbbing at the wrists
but running amuck on our respective digits otherwise.
You are the invariable and unspoken reminder to
breath,
love,
sweat,
and live.
I am the sudden snap of reality always aiming to save you
but grudgingly willing to fight you and
ready
to
leave.
From the deepest lower half of my brainstem
and from every nerve
in my cycling body,
I’m sorry.
From all of my chromaffin cells
and from the truest parts of submandibular ganglian,
I am sorry.
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 8:17 PM UTC
my test results showed divergent.
but she told me not to talk about it,
at least not here, or anywhere. ever.
he told me i could not be found about. never.
but they did, they eventually did.
they injected me- with serums, different kinds of them.
and i became their ultimate little experiment gem.
one of a kind.
every stimulation- every serum injected, i denied.
i was useless.
but then he came - my love. my Four. my Tobias
to my rescue.
i promised. not to put myself into danger,
like as i always did.
but i could not let him die. Caleb. my brother. my blood.
i had to save them. all of them.
death serum.
i could. resist.
but before that- he picks up a fight -
wounded in his wheel chair. paralyzed.
but still manages to, that little twa -
stab.
pain.
i see bloo-
thick red blo-
mom? but you're dea-
it's okay sweety, she says.
where am i?
in a better place.
you gave up your life Tris- for them.
i died?
yes honey, you died, an allegiant.
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 8:25 AM UTC
The Moon has a gentle light, which he gifts the Earth,
It could be compared to how you talk to a child;
Careful, soft and in a sweet manner
His light doesn't hurt me, which is what I adore,
Therefore, is it bad that I tend to lose myself in his gaze ?
When he rises over me, in a clear, registered pace ?
Without a sound I let go of all troubles, all pain,
As the clouds open and it has stopped to rain,
Many people do want to be the sun to brighten up anothers day,
But not me, this is not something for me to say.
I wish to be alike the moon, brighten up your darkest of times,
And be here, to illuminate tomorrows very way
Tug you into a delicate embrace, like his light tends to do
And be here for you, till I have to rest too.
Even in the coldest of nights, the moon manages to warm my heart
And manages my heart not to just fall apart
Tonight again I will enjoy his light,
After all, I hope he does not leave my sight
~ Umi
Feb 1, 2018
Feb 1, 2018 at 1:58 PM UTC
By the evening when it covers the earth softly in a veil of darkness.
As all the colours change, from a bright inviting blue of the heavens,
now softening, losing their glow, as shadows fall beneath the Earth
When the last ray of sunlight has arrived the stars rise in order to claim the sky for themselves, as so does the moon, overshining them.
Vision may shrink due the lack of light, causing many to get anxious if they would have to travel throughout the arrival of the night.
The time to rest has been brought near, but some do choose to stay awake, gazing, observing, watching as the stars above them leave their gentle, slow and most importantly fascinating trail.
Thus for them, the lovers of this declining day, made it their mission to stay awake and admire all the beauty the night serves them.
A time of charming for those who share love, for those who have engaged themselves in the sweet embrace of slumber.
As time goes on I lose myself in this wandering fragnance, until the light of the sun, manages to greet me for a fresh day.
~ Umi
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 9:12 AM UTC
The smile of the white bloom, in my crown
its fragrance spreads across galaxies of neurons,
none can fully imagine the scene, I haven't seen
it's stellar design baffles humans, resists exploration.
On single file pass days and nights, indefatigable
rainbows are made and unmade, making clouds
blush and hoping for bridges across them,
why, even the universe dances to the tunes we play
Ever at ease, I walk silently past the blue mountains,
of remembrance, mostly love created, a miracle!
At times a poet, a scientist,a cosmologist,or a mystic in solitude
finds the need to "stand and stare"wonder, speaks in metaphors.
Looking st the fireworks sky manages, I hallucinate,
an astronaut I become, who knows nothing about time
one wished to live in timelessness for ever and when,
that dream comes true, loses within and be nothingness.
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 4:56 PM UTC
So the clever artist manages to push all her friends away,
And the clever artist decides to distract herself from her plight.
The clever artist goes outside to paint
In the rain.
In the middle of the night.
The clever artist crafts damaged brushstrokes.
And the very clever artist watches them wash away.
The clever artist sends herself mostly blind
As she watches her foggy breath over a flashlight.
The clever artist thinks about the silence that blares,
Despite the music coming from everywhere.
And oh the clever artist!--
Dropped her brush in the dirt.
But she still managed to disguise her hurt..
The artist cleverly insulted the paintbrush in hand;
Clever words, metaphorically meant.
It was then the clever artist ran inside
Her hair dripping from the rain, tangled and wild.
The stupid artist sits down before a page,
Taking her favourite seat.
And writes the worst excuse of a poem ever made.
Becoming the least worthy poet you'll ever meet
The stupid artist can't write,
Nor paint for ****
And of her friendship skills?
Well, **** it.
Jul 1, 2013
Jul 1, 2013 at 6:05 AM UTC
Against the rubber tongues of cows and the hoeing hands of men
Thistles spike the summer air
And crackle open under a blue-black pressure.
Every one a revengeful burst
Of resurrection, a grasphed fistful
Of splintered weapons and Icelandic frost ****** up
From the underground stain of a decayed Viking.
They are like pale hair and the gutturals of dialects.
Every one manages a plume of blood.
Then they grow grey like men.
Mown down, it is a feud. Their sons appear
Stiff with weapons, fighting back over the same ground.
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It creeps into our minds and compels us to turn and walk away, even if that means letting go of the things we yearn for the most
Somehow, it manages to whisper lies that we deem of more than the pure truth
The things that we have perfected no longer embrace value, for our words cannot escape from our locked lips and our bodies become more frozen than ice
Opportunities become grains of sand that slip through our fingers
We endeavor to perceive what is in the vast and mysterious unknown
Our views are distorted, and we believe that we are only fools for dreaming of something so great and unfathomable, even when we have prepared for this our entire lives
That something is our future, but there is one thing that possesses the power to stifle us
Fear.
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 6:56 PM UTC
Isn't it funny all the things in the worlds that bring you down,
My weakest moments are so pleasurably on display,
They taunt me,
Mock who I was,
And still manages to break who I am,
The worlds cruel,vindictive and lonely ways,
They've seduced me into my way of living,
To strike the skin when all else goes wrong,
The darkness has taught me to hate myself,
And I have,
I always will,
The world has their ways and their beliefs,
And I have my own.
Sep 13, 2011
Sep 13, 2011 at 4:38 PM UTC
right now there are eleven empty containers of alcohol in my bedroom,
but it's fine, i'm fine.
i've been telling myself for more than a year
that i wasn't going to write anymore sad ****** poems about you,
but here we are.
most days i'm sure i don't miss you,
but then i listen to the wrong song,
and before i know it -
i'm screaming along to band of horses in the dark,
stalking your twitter favorites,
and somehow,
i've managed to get snot on my forehead.
yeah, nostalgia is an *******
but not all the memories sting.
there was that one time we went to the movies
and i slipped on some ice and fell flat on my ***
i just sat there while you took a picture.
but i'm glad we could laugh about it.
i'm glad we were comfortable.
in my head, we still are.
in my head, we're oversized-goodwill-sweater comfortable.
we aren't as comfortable in real life
but i'm glad we still laugh.
this is the part where i don't bring up the time you told me
my laughter could cure your sadness,
because i'm pretty sure i already put that in another poem,
and it makes me really ******* sad.
did i ever tell you i used to play guitar and piano?
i loved them, but i never tried very hard.
i wanted to be good without having to practice.
i wanted to be good without having to practice.
i wanna meet the girl you write about
so i can ask her how she manages not to love you back.
because i've tried everything & i am so tired.
i forgot this wasn't supposed to be a sad poem.
i'm not good at happy anyway,
i never have been.
but in your absence i've learned a lot about softness.
so if i ever find myself back in your passenger seat,
i won't correct you when you sing the wrong lyrics,
i won't ask why when you take the long way home.
i won't ask you why you don't have your seatbelt on,
i'll just say a silent prayer
and watch for signs that you might be about to swerve.
right now there are eleven empty containers of alcohol in my bedroom,
and i didn't find you at the bottom of a single one.
- m.f.
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 11:54 PM UTC
It's funny what you do to me, and I know funny.
I go up on stage and tell ****** jokes for a living,
and look super bad *** while doing it.
But now you've got my *** terrified. Paranoid to breathe because I'm afraid it will be my last
and you won't be there to see it.
Yes, it's cliche. But you do have me listening to love songs, you do have me putting on make up,
you do have me running up mountains so I can have a body you can enjoy while we make-
out in your car to Beyonce songs.
You once told me that I "was the more beautiful person to grace this Earth" but Lover, I see your
grace in everything on this Earth.
And snow makes me smile because you like to ski and I'm from Canada so my face hurts
frequently.
Trench mapped hands, a sign of how many battles you've fought and won, how many battles
you've fought and lost, how many times you've picked yourself up off the dirt, smiled at me
and said "I'm fine, are you okay?"
Honestly, I have no idea how the most flawed person in the world, a girl who leaves her wet
towels everywhere, a girl who puts her keys in the same place but manages to forget where
they are, a girl who plays Assassin's Creed for 3 hours without blinking and wears that like a
proud Metal Of Honor, how can that girl make the most perfect person in the work happy?
Answer? I have no clue, but you don't have to cheat on any test, because I'll stay. As long as you
want me to, I'll stay.
Here for you when you get weepy, or angry, or curious to see what we can do behind closed doors.
I won't say "I love you". Not because it's not true. Nothing could be more true. But if I say it, I'll cry,
You'll kiss me, and I can't guarantee what will happen to our clothes after that.
So instead, I'll keep making the "that's what she said" jokes, until you're reminded of snow, or
maps, or breathing.
And I have fallen so hard for you that stone boarders between countries couldn't stop your
gravitational pull.
And like willow tree roots growing into shorelines, I get wetter every time you hold me.
So, I'll send you Steven King length facebook messages everyday.
I'll ring up my phone bill to $500.
Light candles for 3 hour skype dinners.
Because, long distance relationships are hard, but not being able to call you "mine" is excruciating.
Because, it's funny what you do to me.
Because, I love funny.
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 2:19 PM UTC
I’ve fallen head over heels.
Crazed into an unknown and different love.
And this time I know.
I know it’s different.
So different; because my heart beats differently now.
Not out of sync. Not out of place. Not beating in pain.
It beats like it was meant too; in rhythm to something that matters.
Into something that might change you.
Into becoming perfect in someone’s eyes.
The beauty of something so real, makes everything seem like diamonds.
All unique; always and endlessly lasting forever.
Communicating sweet gestures and making love seem like a person.
You patiently wait and watch it grow.
Into a gorgeous emotion.
That will never leave your sight.
Because now.
It’s a part of you; a part of your life.
I’ve landed in the arms of someone who makes my bones weak.
But manages to keep me together with simple sentences.
You are stunningly beautiful.
You are everything I could ever want in a person.
You give me butterflies when I see you.
It makes you fall to pieces. Crumbling like your favourite dessert, but still tasting ever-so sweet.
You melt.
But you are still intact; more intact you ever thought you could be.
And you smile, making you feel whole again.
Completing the jig-saw puzzle of your life.
We all dream.
Of a love which will carry us away.
That will make us feel like a fantasy in our own special movie.
And we’ll live happily ever after, regardless of where we are.
Never doubting anything that may come your way.
A love so powerful, that the settings don’t matter.
Only the two of you count.
Time seems so unimportant when you’re together, because you know what makes you grin.
Living your dream, with that one person.
Who makes the day all worth it.
So I’ve fallen head over heels.
Into something I never prepared for.
Into something most people can only dream of.
And in that moment, when you feel the love in your soul.
You are at peace.
Cuddling up to the one who made it all happen.
Thinking... “Thank you, for making my dreams become real”
And they’ll smile, and say “I would never take it back. Your love gets me through the day.”
The psychic bond, of the minds.
And you’ll melt together, like ice-cream on a chocolate cake.
So sweet, so right together, and the moment will last forever.
Like lovers.
Aug 26, 2010
Aug 26, 2010 at 4:07 AM UTC
I could see her eyes flitting all over the room, her petite frame ensnared in my mother's soft arms. I was so glad she was here, that she was with us. She'll be staying over for the third night in a row, she doesn't want to go home to an empty hospital bed yet. There's nothing there for her now except an angry father, a crying mother and several baskets of sour laundry.
He's mean to me in such a sweet way. How he manages to stare at me when he speaks, kiss my skin eeeeevvvvveeeeer so softly in the places I bruise, and still call me "bro", ignore me, flirt with every girl he comes across and then hug me so tight it's like we're lovers about to be separated forever, I've no idea. All my friends see the light in his eyes when he stares at me, hear the gentle joy in his voice when he says my name, see how he handles me in our hugs, his rare kisses and hand grabs, the way he slides his hands over my arm, my shoulders, plays with my hair, caresses my cheek; such wonder and caution in his work.
So why do I feel it means nothing?
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 1:24 AM UTC
Honey-coloured skin
Covering
Over-used bones and
Abused muscles
That have seen the inside
Of blisters
And bruises, hidden beneath
Mismatched, jarring wool
And tight, black
Material that only just
Manages to contain her.
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 10:18 AM UTC
Selfishness: the quality or condition of being selfish
I've never found a definition
that described me so perfectly
I spend my life
talking about everything I hate
and spreading around negative weight
not even knowing why I wake
and every time I feel just an ounce of selfishness
reality takes it toll on me
and hurts a loved one
why do bad things happen to good people
she's only 24 and is diagnosed
with 4 different cancers
but still manages to find
that reason to smile through the pain
Life has its ways to teach me lessons
but some lessons are more harsh
than others
Selfishness: the quality or condition of being selfish
I've never found a definition
that described me so perfectly
I want to formally say sorry
to everyone who was ever in need
of a life
because I acted like
the life inside of me
was just another branch on a tree
May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 7:06 PM UTC
-.A GIRLkeeps her password on her cellphone, while a WOMAN is confident enough to say “darling can you answer that for me?”!! -.A GIRL has pride after arguments, a WOMAN has heart & emotions. -.A GIRL tells her man all the things he does wrong, a WOMAN acknowledges her man’s hardwork!! -.A GIRL run on the streets & chill with her friends, while a WOMAN enjoys time with her man planning ahead for their future!! -.A GIRL exchange words with her man, a WOMAN keeps quite & listen to her man. -.A GIRL complains about spending too much time with her man, a WOMAN plans vacations & getaways because she is wise enough to notice tomorrow isn’t promised!! -.A GIRL tells her man he is cute, & a WOMAN tells her man he is handsome. -.A GIRL takes her man to the house, & a WOMAN takes her man home. -.A GIRL tells the whole world her heart is broken, & a WOMAN keeps her life in line, with tears in her eyes she still manages to say nah! I am fine. -.A GIRL will read this & think this is about her, & a WOMAN will read this & thoroughly acknowledge what she needs to fix in her relationship
Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 5:43 AM UTC
A woman is perfect
in her own eye
when the mirror tells her
that the curvy reflection
is no lie
A woman is perfect
in the public eye
when she cooks
and she cleans
and she saves money when she buys
A woman is perfect
in a family’s eye
when she teaches the girls
and she bathes the boys
and her only complaint is an exasperated sigh
A woman is perfect
in a man’s eye
when she celebrates his victories
and manages the bills
and keeps his ego riding high
But a woman is only perfect
in the inside
when her man is at his lowest
and all hell has broken loose
the money’s all gone
and the house they’ll lose
and the children are wearing hand-me-down’s
and worn out shoes
the car’s broken down
and all the unemployment ‘as been used
and yet she still has the strength
to pick up her man
and carry the family on her back
and get them all to stand
with chin’s held high
and still give her man a kiss
and look him in the eye
to tell him the she loves him
and everything will be alright
Nov 14, 2011
Nov 14, 2011 at 9:00 PM UTC