"mawkish" poems
*Meeting up with the dragon
was a page
out of an intergalactic adventure;
shaking hands with
doppelganger, it was.
He insisted that he is
still a mythical animal
just don't exist in real,
he was so apologetic
to the point of being mawkish,
"Don't want to mislead any one
to somewhere, let's be scientific
to think, you took such pains
to make this meeting happen,
which is not the case in real,
do you see me well?
He was in panic, it seemed,
took him in confidence and
made him stay put.
"What's real is a long debate
don't think I am real,
material world could
easily proved an illusion
matter in to energy and reverse
is the story we see here
quantum mechanics will
end all your qualms
everything is in a state of flux
even the scientists are,
sometimes they see black holes
and suddenly they think otherwise,
so the universe is not even
a handful of dust, it's energy
playing fancy dress..."
The dragon looked crust fallen,
"you should have met a dinosaur instead
at least they EXISTED,and Phew, what a variety
much more than a myth, which I am"
"Don't be apologetic, grand father's gift
grandma must have used her fun of imagination
to beget you and raise to such level of popularity
dragon or meerkat, all are fun, like human,
when none exists, but happily present
in mind and on these vast spaces our eyes see,
waiting to transform in to quanta of energy
when time summons, and God play dice.*
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 8:20 AM UTC
I am at a crescendo of this mercurially
fervent woe, maimed by the visage of
_smoke and mirrors;_
"a death in chrysalis is to live once again."
Draping into the worn out disheveled
silk, _beautifully withered_
lulled by the sound of riverbanks
as if it's pacifying the feral.
A star-lit eyes deluged with bliss
rose with thorn-teared flesh
overwhelmed by a mawkish melancholia. Although we were haunted by our old love, _it will never be the same_.
Oct 9, 2022
Oct 9, 2022 at 12:05 AM UTC
i see love and light and cringe
at its generic quality, all the same
all beautiful and endearing and encouraging
and i can't help but feel the cynic in me laughing
at the mawkish displays and efforts
and at my own generic skepticism
just one charming quality of my
self deprecating form of narcissism
Nov 18, 2016
Nov 18, 2016 at 11:18 AM UTC
At the midnight in the silence of the sleep-time,
When you set your fancies free,
Will they pass to where—by death, fools think, imprisoned—
Low he lies who once so loved you, whom you loved so,
—Pity me?
Oh to love so, be so loved, yet so mistaken!
What had I on earth to do
With the slothful, with the mawkish, the unmanly?
Like the aimless, helpless, hopeless, did I drivel
—Being—who?
One who never turned his back but marched breast forward,
Never doubted clouds would break,
Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph,
Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better,
Sleep to wake.
No, at noonday in the bustle of man’s work-time
Greet the unseen with a cheer!
Bid him forward, breast and back as either should be,
“Strive and thrive!” cry, “Speed—fight on, fare ever
There as here!”
2k
I wrote you love letters out of the syrupy innocence of my childish heart,
Mawkish hopes for a future of sweaty handholding and feather-lipped kisses.
More mother than lover, I lived to shield you from the bigger laughing kids,
Because I thought that love was one short ride on the pegs of your homemade bike,
And one dance under purple glowsticks hanging from the cheap drop ceiling,
And, in the stairwell that smelled like paint and old socks, I told you so.
Turned out I wasted my one second wish on the bunny in the moon:
You woke me up with the hollow chill of sudden mere acquaintanceship,
And now you're chasing some blond girl while I'm standing in a corner, busy growing up.
Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 12:07 AM UTC
the nation's pride in graceful wave
delivered 'fore the thousands
the millions as they roared 'n raved
in worship smiles that roused them
from those ever graceful lips
kissed by Jove 'n Venus
that spoke the majesty of queenship
of love above sweet Eros
the smile that shone out from her eyes
with sincerity none could hide
of interest and intelligence wise
up welled from deep inside
no mawkish sentimentality
nor false, nor common rot,
her smile bespoke reality
a truth that G-d begot
Fare thee well, O gracious Queen,
never from nation forgot,
Farewell in flight to Heaven's Sheen,
To bind Celestial Knot
Sep 13, 2022
Sep 13, 2022 at 10:16 AM UTC
I've created a place inside
your favourite pillows there
you don't know your names on it
and that it's yours to declare
you've no idea what id give up
nor know my fear of it
I doubt you feel the same
the deepness I've yet to admit
You somehow control me
In some way it brings me rapture
I cant quite hit the nail on the head
but its something id like to capture
I'm near you from a distance
I remain a ghost in your world
I'd expose it like a peacocks tail
that will one day be unfurled
Unheard of, is this emotion
Unseen is its colour
Without you , life
Would just be duller
Im taller
Because I look to the sky
you're my light
as if you were nigh
Im somber
as if to cry
But my eyes
are only dry
Please try
To forgive me
I should have told you
but I'm not at all gutsy
still I wonder
how it would be
If your love only
had a guarantee
Jul 7, 2012
Jul 7, 2012 at 12:44 PM UTC
I should shut up soon, zip up
My mouth and hack my pen
Maybe I can stay with orange
Ink and licit words spread
All over the place. You bet.
Get me some poison Iago!
Forest and its men; ***
‘Underdeveloped illiterate pigs’
"Fish! We need development
**** it all, one by one and make-
A main streamers committee"
Get me some poison Iago!
I should soon quit voting
If am ordered to ink my nail for
A caste, a religion or a loser
Maybe I should vote, but
There's a shoot at sight notice.Oops.
Get me some poison Iago!
DIG-IT-ALl? Total babe!
Let’s talk about empowerment
And a survey on farmer’s suicide
But no new-generation
“mushy mushy”, save our culture
Get me some poison Iago!
I should stop eating as well,
Cook books unavailable, animals
Went back to temples ****
I really have a bad taste for
Green-lush-healthy-vegetables
Get me some poison Iago!
“Get inside, get inside”
Set an alarm and get inside
“Cover up, cover up”
Never dream an opening up
“Rapists are rapping out there”
Get me some poison Iago!
We are DEMO-crazy! Hell yea!
Where is my salvation?
Killer idea sirji! Killer idea!
***** tonight?”
“Hang up. Someone’s knocking”
Get me some poison Iago!
Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 12:15 PM UTC
Oh honey, you'll be fine
divine and holding out hope
an angel with no god, no home.
Oh babe your ignorance
looks so good on you
stay steeped in wholesome lies
safe from dreadful truth.
Oh sweetheart, your dumb
******* head is so perfect,
so rottenly pure, its mawkish
scent brings me to my knees.
Oct 30, 2016
Oct 30, 2016 at 8:45 PM UTC
I had to kiss you,
One last time.
I had to hug you tight,
So tight that I could break you.
I had to sniff your neck,
You smelled so good
That I could doze off to bed.
I had to change me,
I had to;
Because the thought of you hurts me well.
So don't come back to me
Because, we won't never be happy.
We broke up our promises ―
I didn't chased you,
You did the same too.
I had to avoid you,
Seeing you breaks my walls
Into pieces ―
I built it from scratch
But I'm afraid of changing,
Because I've been around you.
Nov 24, 2016
Nov 24, 2016 at 3:41 AM UTC
to stay young in your heart you first should have one
and you better fill it up with some love
just a bit
because love is the secret ingredient
the pursuit of justice without love makes you cruel
the pursuit of truth without love makes you a heckler
the pursuit of god without love makes you a bigot
the pursuit of beauty without love makes you Humbert Humbert
power without love makes you a tyrant
honor without love makes you arrogant
wit without love makes you cunning
work without love makes you tired
care without love makes you brusque
talk without love makes you annoying
seriousness without love makes you boring
tenderness without love makes you mawkish
friendliness without love makes you fake
so
you better spice things up with some love
just a bit
Apr 16, 2018
Apr 16, 2018 at 7:26 PM UTC
Unusually
in a pub
a mid-July evening
clutching a Coke
the tangled strings
of conversation
peppered across the room
and loitering about
for faces
I haven’t seen
in perhaps four years
to breathe
through the door
to begin
that mawkish process
of reminiscing
over protracted days
in carpeted classrooms
naturally chat
about the lukewarm now
present partners
jobs if we have one
and upon arrival I speak little
letting the cool
surf of familiar voices
refresh me
as some mysterious
but quite delicious drink
and there is laughter
delicate chatter
before we disperse
like youthful bees
to our own slices
of existence
separate but always
aware of what was
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 4:32 PM UTC
Trickster drizzle peters,
Expectant trees are mawkish;
Rain’s failed sweet promise!
Nov 17, 2018
Nov 17, 2018 at 8:44 PM UTC
I am mawkish I am sad, I think not of what I've had
And religion makes me sick, it's nothing more than politics
Well the people get confused, no ones right we always lose
Lucky you they've got a noose, I'll take your place if you don't mind
Too dramatic such a shame I should have never played your game
Always winning just my luck I've never ever gave a ****
Now it's over, lucky me, no problems and I am free
Free from tonic and a pill I get drunk and then get ill
On the grass where no one sees and who would ever talk to me
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 3:39 PM UTC
So how can this make anything easier
Under country night sky’s brightly lit
Digital fire burns through the skin
And all that’s left is hollow bones, empty soul
Found a way to casually converse this illusion
Hoping for a place to make it through the night
Dance away, fall into a rustic hurricane
Never able to proceed, much obliged company
Shell of ourselves as I ache for this bar room fix
Its easy when the clouds have broken from the wind
These meager minds keep sleep a luxury
How do we move through these chemical days?
Keep a promise, keep the shadows at bay
Wash the courtyard, clean the masquerade
As these trucks pull up for blue collar hands
Those drinks need pouring, those heads need care
Shell of ourselves as I ache for this bar room fix
Its easy when the clouds have broken from the wind
Its easy when the distance between settles in
And when the dreary mornings speak uncertainty
Ready fuels and coffee made to play
All for not, the sun still shines away
Speculation masks an exchange for another day
Oct 29, 2017
Oct 29, 2017 at 1:33 AM UTC
i dont think i will ever forget
How quickly she came running
She was always such a little whirlwind
Unable to justify this brutality
I watch the red kites fly in the sky
When will they fall again to give me this message
Give me one more meaning and one more word to say
But wait...
There he goes waiting again
I'll never let him overthink sorrow
with his golden kite in hand it falls from the auburn scorched sky
He never moves an inch and in this setting sun i will never find my spirit
There she is again running
will she ever learn that
When i say goodbye its meaningless
How quickly will i forget
Regardless of how high the mawkish red kites fly
there will always be
a never ending search for my spirit in a mid summers sky
Feb 27, 2012
Feb 27, 2012 at 12:52 PM UTC
In a world of green,
Of white, of blue, of dream
There lies a young white girl
With young white thoughts
Realization of her world
Such simplistic pleasures
With yellow thoughts,
and simplistic measures
A little too innocent
A little too pale
Well delicate in thoughts
Silk woven like a delicate sail
Her thoughts swayed
Her thoughts swollen
Some selfish,
Some lovely,and some sullen
In a world
Of colorless visions
Her bright mind
And dreams, lie pretty
Abused in simplicity,
Artless and mawkish
The world sways her thoughts
In manners mistaught
In a world of green,
Of white, of blue, of dream
There lies a young artless girl
With young artless thoughts
The world dims her thoughts
Her pretty yellow,
Young and mellow
Compassion filled thoughts
Her bright red heart is stolen by one,
And then another,
and another,
Yet her thoughts remain to speak of yellow
Thoughts of blue,
of green, start to fill
A void in her life unfulfilled
Yet her pretty yellow thoughts persist
Pleasant in her mannerisms,
Simplistic in her artlessness,
A world of green, of blue,
of darkness, fills her innocence
Smile she tries,
Cry she pries
Her pretty yellow,
Yellow artlessness, fades
Hurt, she wallows
Beneath the swallows
Soon the darkness rises around
And her thoughts grow dimmer
Within hours, in sight is a farmer
Whose words reflect the waters of the world
In finality he speaks, with no sorrow
"The pretty yellow lights seem have no morrow!"
In a world of green,
Of white, of blue, of dream
There lies a young headless girl
With young headless thoughts
May 17, 2018
May 17, 2018 at 10:51 PM UTC
I’m learning a lot, dating Peter. For instance, I have a whole new awareness of how clueless older Americans, like people in their mid-twenties, are about things in the modern world.
I think Peter’s learning things too. Like the other night, I was 30 minutes late because I was gluing little, glittering rhinestones to my eyebrows. Was he mad? Yes, we had a little drama, but that’s just because he hasn’t learned to respect my lifestyle choices.
“Don’t be mawkish Peter,” I softly advised him, while fixing the caller of his shirt, “look, let's just pretend that we squabbled over this, and I won?” I suggested, helpfully. “It’ll save us time and WOW, we’re running late, OK? Seeing some small, lingering irritation, I promised, “We can still makeup later.”
The rhinestones looked spectacular, I got a LOT of compliments and in the end, I think he liked them. You know, sometimes I’ll catch him looking at me, like the moon or something, like I’m out of reach.
Guys are so.. (searching for a word).
Sep 9, 2022
Sep 9, 2022 at 4:05 PM UTC
Illuminated goddess of the radiant night
Bath me gently in your soothing pale light
Brighten the dark erode the vile spawn
Dazzlingly resplendent against the morrow's dawn
Shining face perched in quiescent splendor over land and ocean
Endowed with the power to invoke a tide of emotion
Now lunation has arrived I grow mawkish and pale
Retire my celestial love behind your dark diamonded veil
Led through the hard black night by loneliness's callused clutch
Ensanguined dreams, imprisoned here within society's hutch
To be once again cradled amidst your luminary embrace
Is this lugubrious hearts only true appetence and grace
May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 6:25 PM UTC
it was a saturday night when i promised myself never to fall again because i knew it would only leave me scathed to the bone and lost in the desolated world that i had unnecessarily created in the past. i had come to the realisation that there was an inevitable slough of despond, waiting to pull me mercilessly into the black hole that i knew held a despicable love that i would refuse to ignore if i did not steer clear. though, steering clear was never my forte. instead, diving idiotically into cold waters without caution was where my roots stayed, in love with the fray of things. lost in my welter of thoughts, my little pandemonium, i dreamt of you and slowly tried to fathom how we ended. was it the loss of attraction, transient chemistry or the indubitable end that had already been set in stone? because all my life, i had tried so desperately to search for nonexistent formulas for why things ended, only to accept the fact that every thing was made to be ephemeral. stop, stop, just stop! my mind never failed to repeat, yet my heart failed to comply; my stream of consciousness always led back to you. i felt alone, pathetic, mawkish even, as i dialled your number with the dignity i no longer possessed. with each ring, i tried to stop the shivers down my spine that felt like a terrible ague, knowing that you had already given up on me, on us, and wanted nothing to do with me. you were obdurate on your decision, happy to move on.
but as for me? i remain that hideous book you indifferently hide on your shelf, in the shadows of your newfound lover.
(( yet, even now, that saturday night repeats itself every single day, the vicious cycle of an ancient spiel that i cannot seem to let go, because the thought of you coming back still remains, engrained into whatever pieces of my heart i have left. ))
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 1:25 PM UTC
On one evening grey,
A cold spring sunset
Stood one,
By the roadside
Off the bright shadows
Of the dimming half-light
Oblivious
Of what was to come.
He glanced forth
And there she was
Strutting in stout mellow
As she willowed
Towards the crude darkness.
‘Hello’, he shouted
In a mawkish tone
And to many a surprise
She paused.
He hesitantly approached her heels
Trying to keep it cool
And for about a minute half
Of obscure reticence
They sauntered, tongue-tied
Side by side
Into the drear blues.
Sep 23, 2016
Sep 23, 2016 at 2:22 AM UTC
Petite, pixie tangerine
As mawkish as the taste of something saccharine
Ludicrous, gawky pair of vague hoops
Forbidden with the cheapest boos
Body's wrapped in a fiery Mongolian coat
Personality-shelves loaded with gloat
She is made of silver and gold
Though in three hundred and sixty-five days,
She had lost courage, had lost hope
The juvenile decided to go red in rust
Like her heart, her blood, her wrath, and her pampers
She puffily cries for help and for the pity,
For the exposed and the logical ******
Thereby, her cheekbones bulged inhumanely,
Stock-still, specked with a festoon of Simper
Such an extravagant trailblazer
A Sangria wine in hand and a fruit ****
With a similar gleam of her deep, raspberry gloss
And the way her chapped lips touched the rim,
It's not as fascinating as it seems,
Because she knows on her part that her heart is lost
Jul 2, 2018
Jul 2, 2018 at 8:39 AM UTC
Our shadows kiss, but our lips remain distant
When I feel the warmth of her touch
Her hands dismiss the mist,
Shrouded around my visions
When her breathe brushes against my skin
I sense she’s ordained the light to come in
I’ve become mawkish, susceptible to her voice.
Her pitch, her tone, my chocolate Goddess
The legends had foretold
I lack the ability to sense the severity of the things to unfold
I’ve come to know my stomach is weak, when she speaks
When she abandons me, the light retreats
I drink to subdue these physical pangs
Shipwrecked, but only in my brain
Our shadows kiss in the darkness each day
Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 5:46 AM UTC
this Democratic Party affiliated member i.e.
considered (with an eye blink)
positing the following blurb
for a very short while
asper the "FAKE" trumpeting
oaf fish shill offal
continuous, indecorous,
and poisonous barbs doth re vile
me, an anonymous middle aged
concerned citizen at thee...reptile
no...no...that, would
unfairly debase creatures such as
snakes, lizards, turtles, or alligators,
whose aggressive acceptable modes,
one expects tubby non servile
thus in my mind hiss non diss incriminating
cruel, fiendish, gallingly jawboning
mawkish philistine (YES, I
MEAN YOU DONALD Quisling TRUMP)
figuratively roasting
respectable people analogous
to rake them over hot coals
then, burn them at the stake,
which witch trial characters assassination
with point blank expletives
found an introspective chap (yours truly)
responds to broadcast
unflattering sentiments,
albeit swiftly tailored harried, yup,
yar...obnoxious fulminations rile,
said brief explanation motive enough
(occurred within a split second)
after gleaning most recent denigrating,
hurtful, lambasting puerile
verbal and/ or twittering outbursts
(MOST DEFINITELY) unstatesmanlike
at least to me: a circumspect enlightened
genteel individual kind nattering
nabob of nativity, who feels alarmed
at venal wickedness by thee ->
President Trump spluttering, smoldering,
slandering gallimaufry
predicated predictable awfully banal,
cringeworthy diurnal,
and fiercely hurt locker ful invective bile
perhaps indicative of dementia praecox
or smother mental illness,
ye would immediately refute,
and be in din aisle.
Mar 4, 2018
Mar 4, 2018 at 11:59 PM UTC
I spent years spinning straw into gold,
weaving a cast to make myself whole
to guard and heal these once brittle bones
but you make me feel stupid and soft and squishy
and sappy and mawkish and awkward and pretty
like a vapid princess in my black tower
you, dumb prince were meant for the living
but stubborn and young and without misgiving
you fell from the light and the grace of the gods
to be with a girl with many facades.
Jan 21, 2017
Jan 21, 2017 at 3:10 AM UTC