"mannerly" poems
A: Adorable
M: Mannerly
A: Attractive
N: Natural
D: Dazzling
A: Active
Amanda,you're a blessing!!
Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 5:25 PM UTC
My inspiration has run dry,
my love for art is about to die.
the dimming light,
is slowly fading out of sight.
I have a block in my thought,
so these words can not be brought.
I cant express my own feelings,
i have to rip them off like onion peelings.
my enthusiasm for paint,
is getting to faint.
Rhyming is getting harder,
its something i can not do.
to put these words together,
in a mannerly fashion.
its something i can not do.
im more broken now then before.
Aug 8, 2010
Aug 8, 2010 at 12:10 AM UTC
A Scream came from up above
From the bell tower
It was so piercing
In my ears
Ouch
Oh no
Not my ears
I was then required to rise from my nest
stare out the window
And watch in a mannerly fashion as a dark swooping fire engulfed
The bell tower
Oh no
I thought
Not the Bell tower
That is definitely not a good place
For fire to be
No
Not at all
Maybe I should help
To remove the fire
from the bell tower
Yes
That would be
Very helpful indeed
I would be a hero
Oh yes
That would be very nice
But I decided
That I would take the moral high ground
And went back to sleep
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 8:50 AM UTC
PRELUDE
Who is this man with name unknown
with silver hair, and beard long-grown-
Who walks among the birds and beasts
with nature catering to his feasts-
"An eremite", say the village folk,
"the hermit on the mound!"
A mystic, an oracle, philosopher, or seer?
"Perhaps, ye'll find the answer,
buried here!"
.........................
He was sitting on a sidewalk bench
a wrinkled hat laid at his feet
Passers-by would drop their change
as they meandered down the street
"God bless you sir", or madam,
he always replied-
In such a gracious and mannerly way ,
that made him impossible to deny
Some folks would make a comment,
most were polite, others, mild rebukes-
I went to speak on his behalf,
to these young and naive groups.
When I laid my hand on his shoulder
a glint in his eyes put me amiss!
It was then, that I realized
just who this old man is!
"I'll tell you a story, I said,
to the folks standing near,
a tale of caring and compassion-
That I think you'd like to hear"
" I've read legends about "lost gold mines"
and indian folklore
And I tell you folks, without a doubt,
I've met this man before!"
"It's been 'nigh on to fifty years
since I've been back this way
T'was a time when I nearly lost my life,
I recall it, as if it happened yesterday!"
Now, the crowd began to grow a bit-
to listen to my tale-
Of exploring an old, abandoned mine
when the walls began to fail.
I told them of the rumble,
when the ground began to quake
How the ceiling began to crumble
when the walls began to shake-
I told them of the stranger
with silver beard, streaked with tan-
Who came out of nowhere
to help a fellow man
The stranger, who gave me water-
who smiled as he gripped my hand,
while I quenched my thirst
from the curse, of this forsaken land
The folklore tells of a holyman
a name he doesn't bore
who strolls the mountain ridges
and across these cactus covered floors
But, I know who, and what he is-
and up my spine it sends the chills-
When I tell you, "you've come
face to face
with......
"The Angel of the Hills!"
copyright: richard riddle May 01, 2015
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 12:49 AM UTC
nothing compares to the empty feeling
that you've left inside of me.
you tell me lovely words,
and then leave me alone
to my own thoughts and creations
i never wanted to love you
but here we are
here i am
alone and confused
and i can't tell you
oh no, no way
you'll judge me
hate me
the way you do to my opinions
my dreams, wishes
my thoughts
you're no good
not for me
not at all
a bad friend
a worse lover
but wow, if i could change you
now wouldn't that be something
make you kinder, more open,
more willing to talk to me,
like you once did
more understanding, more caring
less cold and distant
less painful and agonizing
more appreciative and mannerly
and maybe if you made me cry
a little bit less
with your take take take
and only enough give
to make me crave more and more
wow, if i could change you
now wouldn't that be something
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 2:42 AM UTC
sometimes a parent is willing to anything for their child, except let them be themselves.
im not smart, im not mannerly, im not anything you want me to be.
and thats okay with me, just not with you.
no matter how many teachers, tutors, or medications you get me i am just me.
and im sorry if thats not good enough for you.
but ive realized i cant change, and thats ok.
because even though i will never reach your standards, im happy.
im content on living the life that God has planned for me.
not the life that you are trying to force on me.
so im sorry i will never be the perfect child you wanted,
im sorry i **** up and make mistakes,
im sorry im human and that im not what you wanted.
i can see the look in your eyes.
that "were not mad, just disappointed" look.
and when i was younger, i hated that look.
but now that look is nothing but a normal look.
im sorry im not what you wanted,
im sorry i **** up and make mistakes,
im sorry im human and that im not what you want.
May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 7:52 PM UTC
PRELUDE
Who is this man with name unknown
with silver hair, and beard long-grown-
Who walks among the birds and beasts
with nature catering to his feasts-
"An eremite", say the village folk,
"the hermit on the mound!"
A mystic, an oracle, philosopher, or seer?
"Perhaps, ye'll find the answer,
buried here!"
.........................
He was sitting on a sidewalk bench
a wrinkled hat laid at his feet
Passers-by would drop their change
as they meandered down the street
"God bless you sir", or madam,
he always replied-
In such a gracious and mannerly way ,
that made him impossible to deny
Some folks would make a comment,
most were polite, others, mild rebukes-
I went to speak on his behalf,
to these young and naive groups.
When I laid my hand on his shoulder
a glint in his eyes put me amiss!
It was then, that I realized
just who this old man is!
"I'll tell you a story, I said,
to the folks standing near,
a tale of caring and compassion-
That I think you'd like to hear"
" I've read legends about "lost gold mines"
and indian folklore
And I tell you folks, without a doubt,
I've met this man before!"
"It's been 'nigh on to, well, 'many' years
since I've been back this way
T'was a time when I nearly lost my life,
I recall it, as if it happened yesterday!"
Now, the crowd began to grow a bit-
to listen to my tale-
Of exploring an old, abandoned mine
when the walls began to fail.
I told them of the rumble,
when the ground began to quake
How the ceiling began to crumble
when the walls began to shake-
I told them of the stranger
with silver beard, streaked with tan-
Who came out of nowhere
to help a fellow man
The stranger, who gave me water-
who smiled as he gripped my hand,
while I quenched my thirst
from the curse, of this forsaken land
The folklore tells of a holyman
a name he doesn't bore
who strolls the mountain ridges
and across these cactus covered floors
But, I know who, and what he is-
and up my spine it sends the chills-
When I tell you, "you've come
face to face
with......
"The Angel of the Hills!"
copyright: richard riddle May 01, 2015
related to my work titled "1894"
Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 11:26 AM UTC
Hey you forgot to close the blinds again
You have to know the distance isn’t far
I can see right through with the lights on
And now you are getting ready for bed
Who takes a shower this late at night
And no, I’m not sitting at the window for you
I am an accidental viewer taking in a show
I swear I’m not a creep, just right place right time
How fast do I have to look away embarrassed
To still be considered a mannerly gentleman
And not some disgusting ****** enjoying it
But to be honest, you look too good to stop
Oct 8, 2019
Oct 8, 2019 at 8:02 PM UTC
There was an Old Man with a beard,
Who said, "It is just as I feared!—
Two tweakers, a rat, and a Jellicle cat
Have all built their nests in my beard."
There was an Old Man of Connecticut,
Who possessed an innate sense of etiquette;
He'd lay down the fork to the left of the spork,
That mannerly man of Connecticut.
There was an Old Man from Earth's center,
Who left it and couldn't reënter;
He crawled out a hole like a man who's a mole,
And lost his way back to the center.
There was an Old Person of Skye,
Who spent his days wondering, "Why?"
When they asked, "What's the word?" he replied, "Haven't heard,"
That discouraged Old Person of Skye.
There was an Old Man of Seattle,
Who had an attraction to cattle;
Considering bovine anatomy _so_ fine,
He prodded the cows of Seattle.
There once was from Thessaloniki
A man who was geeky and greeky;
An avid fanatic of things democratic,
He voted in Thessaloniki.
There was an Old Person of Perth,
Who buried his gold in the Earth
And then plum forgot whereat was the spot,
That forgetful Old Person of Perth.
There was a Young Man of the South,
Who mouthwashed with whiskey his mouth;
He spoke with a drawl, saying yes'm and y'all,
That drawling Young Man of the South.
There was a Young Person of Boston,
Who wandered around and got lost in
The Chinatown section with a raging ********
That poked out an eyeball in Boston.
There was an Old Person named Lear,
Who surely was scroobious and queer;
He sat rather fat, and Old Foss was his cat,
And he couldn't abide ginger beer.
Mar 24, 2025
Mar 24, 2025 at 5:00 PM UTC
When i am in a lost State…
i tend to speak alone when the is nobody around,
i tend to walk long distances til im lazy to walk back home,
i become at ease with life and think clearly,
i smile alot
i become so proud about life
i get inspired
I review My achievement
i value My capabilities
i analyse My extraordinarity
I plot counter attack against My enemies
I create room for them to make a mistake so i can use it against them not threaten…
Randomly i smile about the strength i have…
Emotions gets mixed up and cool down in mannerly way
Anyway i just dont fall into a trace of lost State…
Even excitement cant take me to that state…
Only bad things can ignite that…
Its a good way
it help to ease up
and think clearly
its not spontaneous
it defeats anger…
Its my kind of lost State…
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 3:00 AM UTC
Time blessed me yesterday. I saw you
Open up your eyes under shutters at the rise.
Don’t let me forget to fall
Each and every day;
Say truly what it means for two to stay.
Even on our days of Blue,
Roses of Red surround you.
Voices so soft can sound a song so loud. Yet
Evanescent are the slips that separate true lips.
Today I see you gleaming.
Happy! Two and one.
Every moment here is so much fun.
Before I let new moons make a memory,
Emboss me one more time, ever mannerly.
Slide down beside me, enticed by niceties.
There’s nowhere else I’d ever rather be.
Feb 14, 2022
Feb 14, 2022 at 5:43 AM UTC
(presumably still alive
predicated on rumored sightings dive
ving fast as blazing saddles,
her blitzkrieg,
nothing but a blurry beehive.)
Swifter than Usain
(lightening) Bolt
Eden Liat
(thine eldest daughter,
a mixed hybrid breed
greyhound and whippet)
leaves in the dust
topnotch any racehorse
prompting speculation,
she harkens, and begat
from a long line,
sans award
(at trough feed ding),
many a cooly
winning super naturally
infused awk worded Colt
surpassing (with a flash,
plus even sub track ting
considerable handi
capped add halt
ting delay), thine
prestigious, princess,
and prodigious exalt
ting marathon running
smart lee zipping
as a whip lash heiress,
thru no fault
in the stars
of her astrological designs
oft times humbly declines
adulation, benediction, dedication
and deferentially finds
reasons amazingly, gracefully,
and mannerly deflects
self imposed grueling practices,
that she quickly grinds
into pulverized powder,
any high top custom made
high tech lines
brand name
threadbare sneakers saved
with countless
trophies that aligns
storied (and stuffed
animal bedecked)
bookshelf, even gag
me with a spoon
humor tinged competitions,
faux rotten tum ate oh
(John Heinz)
seeded "ketchup with me"
hash-tag game
opened to all kinds
of village people, including
some barenaked ladies,
where flashy Mainliners
dressed to the nines
(essentially for sound
garden variety public,
who generally favor squash),
that crop up during
Indian Summer salad days
punctuates the warm air,
where one after
another lover doth appear
oak kay embracing ephemeral
pseudo sappy romance
spine tingling
as sharp needling pines.
Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 3:21 PM UTC
I keep myself suspended in thin air
Through my weak arms,
Pulling the rope in a pulley tied to my hips,
Trembling muscles, fearing eyes, missing voice,
I see the ground getting farther
As my hands force me up.
I'll hit the soil, but when?
I suspend myself in a road
Between two cities I recognize,
But stuck in a middle town,
Unknown, bizarre, half dead,
Waiting a never coming repair,
A volatile gasoline to move me,
The guidance to be back on track,
But I get used to the town,
People suddenly are acquainted,
Unstrange, polite, mannerly.
I'm suspended between those cities
By a thin web of limits,
My lack of imagination,
My despise for shortcuts,
My eyes closed to any opportunity
(Received as an horrendous spell).
I'm in betweens,
The half way,
The dissonance of the division of a semitone,
The missing particle of quarks,
The dark half of a lightbeam.
I'm suspended, panoramic.
I'm not myself anymore,
I'm not myself yet.
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 12:10 AM UTC
My mother expects me to
Look as good as possible
Act as mannerly as possible
Make the best grades possible
But sometimes
I just can’t
But I love you Mom...
So I’ll try my best
Mar 30, 2018
Mar 30, 2018 at 7:34 AM UTC