"meaningfully" poems
I love you. I love you so much. I love you.. Love you to the moon and back.
Moon and back, what does that mean? Does it mean the amount of time that it would take me to get to the moon and back I would love you? Does it mean that love is a measurement and the moon and back is one love? Does it mean that if love was a form of energy it could take you to the moon and back? Or is simply just a figure of speech to be said meaningfully to a lover to imply great love?
Moon and back, I have heard that many times over and over, never understanding the meaning, and I think I'm not the only one.
Moon and back, if it's a amount of time then it's six days, Apollo 11 did it in six.
Moon and back, if it's a measurement then love equals 477,800 miles.
Moon and back, if it's energy then it's equal to 381,000 gallons of gas.
Moon and back, if it's a figure of speech then it's a extremely poor one.
Moon and back, I love you to the moon and back, it implies restricted love, measured love, to an extent love, timed love, ended love.
To the moon and back I will love you.
Love should not be measured, timed, restricted, ended.
Moon and back, why do we still say it? Because we saw it in the movies? "You want the moon? That's a great idea! I'll lasso the moon for ya what'd ya about that?" "Hmm, I'll take it" - it's a wonderful life. We heard it in the songs? "You want the moon? Girl watch me grab it" - Far East Movement
Why? Because we have no alternative?
Moon and back. Moon and back. To the moon and back.
What? Do we lack the capability to make new phrases? Do we lack the romanticism?
No, we lack the courage to say our thoughts. I love you till, till the sun explodes and we are ****** into darkness and even then when we are nothing, and there is nothing, there will be my love for you.
We have the fear of being laughed at for saying what our heart wants us to say. I need you like birds need wings to fly, like lions need claws to **** like fish need water to live.
The horror, of being completely honest. I didn't love you the first time I told you I loved you, because if I did mean it then, than this must be more then love, but it can't cuz what's after love?
Moon and back, I'm tired of unromantic couples.
Moon and back, moon and back.
Moon and back, maybe we say it because deep down we all know the truth.
The truth of, moon and back, and as much as we hate it, as much as we fight it,
Love does end.
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 2:14 PM UTC
Have you ever been injured past the point of repair
Like hurt so bad that you don’t even care you just decide to compare
Notes with others wondering where it all ends
It depends on the pity party you attend
The healing of anything starts from within
To begin just accept that you are a human
Being and that life isn’t always nice, seemingly
Deceptive while its peaceful, but then meaningfully
The storms come taking the wind out of your sails
but to no avail you’ve lost control of your life and
the spiral begins..
it doesn’t have to be this way…
IT SHOULDN’T IT ISNT FAIR
But then, everybody has been there,
Seriously, everyone human has gone through pain
Has gone through the rough winds, and seen their tears fall like the rain
But verily like Shakespeare and the great deku tree
I know that better times are coming for thee
So stay strong, stay positive and keep your dreams alive
Because no one wants to see another young soul die.
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 12:38 AM UTC
how many paths, how many loves
living and changing and ever climbing
learning and growing and springing over
like purple sunsets entering red mountains
each experience reopening your eyes, gaining
wisdom and freedom, ever increasing strength
Atlas holding Gaia, never ending strength
becoming charged and overcome with love
encircled with history and caring, gaining
a repertoire of eternal connections, climbing
into dream fields surrounded by mountains
will this serenity ever be over?
though hopefully the uncertainty will be over
and that we will have strength
to conquer all the encountered mountains
created by each newly attained love
embrace avenues crossed and obstacles climbed
to have pleasure and confidence gained
though will paradise ever be gained
allowing forgetfulness of pain we're over
while still remembering friendships we climbed
every node you pass gives strength
for the next stage of love
giving elemental power to move mountains
our past shadows creating fresh mountains
to relive, to adore; understanding gained
so many different forms of love
meaningfully distinct, passed but never over,
each one providing new wonderful strength
to allow us unique nirvanas climbed
always strive for larger heights climbed
those hopes will be worth mountains
don't fear any loss of strength,
weakness endured is often willpower gained
hate and sorrow should never over-
come the treasureful bliss of love
*Don't be afraid of the climb to the top of the mountain
unbelievable strength will be gained,
all the adventures that are over will become unforgettable love*
Aug 29, 2012
Aug 29, 2012 at 7:47 PM UTC
There were once men, playing a lying game.
They had no heart, they knew no shame.
Like Sirens, what their songs told,
were stories of flesh on beds of gold.
Merely this, is what their songs were about,
for wine and flesh they lusted sparing doubt.
For all their bubbles, fizzle, show and gleam,
true love for them was but a funny little dream.
Some, it is true, had the voices of blue suede kings.
Yet, danced on rubble, coughing smoke, 'n' kissing rings.
Thankfully, their lyrics were quite naturally cold,
faintly sparkling true hearts, despite their gold.
No songs can, in the spirit, ever remain,
or one's path meaningfully ingrain,
unless dotted by a hearty blood stain.
Still, some blind and sleepy were enticed,
those who dropped their heart, who'd lost their *****
Much like a robber, who rests his gun in a heist.
Others, scrambled to plug their ears
wishing to avoid both song 'n' tears.
They knew not, that when fighting fear,
'tis not enough to keep it from getting near.
Simply stuffing their ears with wax,
failed to fade the hottest new tracks,
cause tanks groove on these tracks.
As tanks, they pop 'n' roll till you die.
Therefore... relax, pick your time, and lie,
not to your conscience, but on the ground,
so they pass over you, leaving you safe 'n' sound.
"You cannot fear what you haven't tried."
Remember, Odysseus wasn't deaf, only tied.
He, chose to fight and listen to the Sirens' songs,
using threads of logic, to keep from snapping their thongs.
Tightroping on wrong, he but fell to the song.
He wailed and spat, yet, somehow grabbed the gong.
And after a short but needed rest, after this soul defining test,
he did not lament the virgins lost, but carried on with his quest.
He, knew the lying men and their calls were real,
but to forms he didn't kneel, nor aimed to cut a deal.
He, stuck to his dreams doing his best to warn and tell the rest,
that though Sirens charm, they harm. "'Tis Ithaca who gives zest.'"
So, next time you see the chanting men of lies,
and their enchanting plastic bunnies in bow ties,
know that rhyme and shine may polish coal,
but listening to your heart should be the goal.
*"With a twist of logic to correct your steer,
you will run through fear, and forever, keep it rear."*
Dec 7, 2011
Dec 7, 2011 at 4:27 PM UTC
Alone but together
over the Christmas days
time was not running out
for once the kitchen clock
had stopped looking at him
meaningfully and she
today a thing of beauty
of gathered curves
flowing in and from
that special frock
bought for an opening
(and perhaps worn once?)
she was lovelier then
than any woman
he had known or seen.
Earlier that morning in place of falling
ever falling towards passion’s state
he had lain peacefully beside her
and from his pillowed space in bed
had gazed . . . instead
They did the usual things
but with an unusual care
taking time with presents’ paper
savouring wine between sips of water
cutting into that well-iced cake
and sensing from a distant room
the scent of candles glimmering
On St Stephen’s Day
they’d upped and offed
into the glen that rose above the town
that held her world of work
of children house and home
walking up through bare winter trees
where far below a stream rushed valley-ward
undrowned for once by the traffic’s noise
and the sudden rush of the railway's train.
About to turn for home
he saw her stoop
to look to gather to pocket
Some sixth sense told him then
an idea had formed itself
when as between her fingers
she held five acorns from the path
not squirreled-perfect shiny ones
but damaged and in need of care
these cups and fruit garnered about
with slivers of broken oaken bark
Later she left them lying
on a sheet of card
their winter colours
true but hard
in the kitchen’s light
objects suddenly
removed from all disorder
of a woodland way.
An hour or so perhaps later
still with her small fingers
she had stitched until . .
no not stitched she said
darned with blue and red
and silk-golden thread
in between and then around
these fractured acorn shells
picked from the path with
the cracked and shattered
broken bark now made
good as new and mended well
Her smile expressed a triumph
and a joy of a doing done
and from laughing eyes
and heightened voice
he sensed something
stretch into time’s distance
something wholly private
she would guard
and hold and own
to be only hers
and only hers alone.
Dec 28, 2013
Dec 28, 2013 at 11:48 AM UTC
It's Pouring Ova here, Its falling..
Just look at the rain you've allowed..
It's raining , it fills my room...
This rain inspires though its pouring lightly..
It increases gently..
You said you can feel it too.
The rain is growing flowers, in my room..
The grass grows with energy..
Pouring within me respectively..
Raining... I can still hear you saying.. its raining for you too.
Overwhelmingly....
abundantly.. fun while... dancing meaningfully.
Rain.. Raining excites destiny.. Pouring fully..
Spilling from my room...
Sunlight above the cloud as its pouring.. Blissfully..
So luxuriously. keep raining..Over me..
keep pouring..
keep falling sweetly..
Raining.. Inside.. Raining outside.. Love reigns...Beautifully..
Such Rains...
a Good thang..
SelinaSharday_H.E.R#POETRY 2022......S.A.M
Dec 7, 2022
Dec 7, 2022 at 8:32 AM UTC
May the seasoning of the season
stuff you full of all that's holy,
all that's holly
and all that's homely.
May your sudden new year
surprise you with a new sense
of living fully,
resolutely
and purposely.
And may the Christ of Christmas be present meaningfully daily.
Jan 13, 2018
Jan 13, 2018 at 10:13 AM UTC
This thought has always haunted me.
People you meet once
and never again in your life.
You have a static picture in your mind
of their face
the small conversation
their little story they tell you
the place you met them
in a bus, a shop, on the road
interactions not long
but meaningfully small
yet leaving a memory in you.
I think of all those people
I stopped by to ask for time
seek direction of my destination
or asking where I might find
food or a resting place
in an unfamiliar area.
Once and just once you meet them.
On a summer trip, I was looking for icecream
in a strange place off the highway
walked ten minutes to find a shop
where for that brief encounter
the seller made me feel like
he had known me for long
shared the history of that area
the migration and culture of the residents
before helping me with the right icecream.
Sometimes I wonder
if they would have enriched my life
were they part of my association.
Not scholars, not rich, but simple men
who bring you down to earth
and carve a space in your mindscape.
Sadly you meet them once in your life.
I feel it's so designed.
Mar 4, 2025
Mar 4, 2025 at 7:37 AM UTC
Hips don't help
when I'm hightailing home
hurrying...
Times like these, I'd rather be asexual.
I see shadows slink-scurrying
slithering slyly
sneering...
I hate your ability to intimidate.
I want to turn toward and
take on your trash
toughly...
But there's five of you and one of me. And my hands are small.
No matter the mothering moralists
who match me to men
meaningfully...
I am a woman, and I am still afraid.
Self-defense can only go so far...
and my hips don't help.
Feb 13, 2012
Feb 13, 2012 at 12:24 AM UTC
Whining about slushie stains, broken shoe strings, a cloudy tan date, a blender of crushed molding fruit and a couple of misplaced coupons dusty under the bookcase
I listen, I stay. I know I know-so awful, so unfair
Tuesday the tongue red Toms squished into the slip n' slide of a slow-paced coat on the run, splashing in the surprise and disgust but mostly drowning in the wrong point
I listen, I stay. I know I know-so foul, so raw
The pipes ooze liquid, weeping for a fix but the handyman's calloused fingertips were fired for not fitting the bill, mending the rip or driving the speed limit
I listen, I stay. I know I know-so frustrating, so disappointing
Saturday's overlap into Sunday was cramming lyrics and auto corrected notes into the bloated edge of a clicking lens snapping away, capturing a frenzy of wild memories and ibuprofen pills
I listen, I stay. I know I know- so entertaining, so amusing
Begging for top shelf truth, knee stretching for flexibility, pen scratching for a road deeper inland, holding, yearning for a meaningful entry to meaningfully look back on
I listen, I stay. I know I know- so vanished, so fragmented
Each night, the muffled light bulb all tucked into bed shamelessly stares crooked at the nightmares of an exhausted headboard wishing only to shed comfort instead of light
I listen, I stay. I know I know- so sorry, so sorry, so sorry I can't be more for you
May 27, 2012
May 27, 2012 at 7:32 PM UTC
The lamp is now representing itself in the absence of being semi-peaceful. While having the inner-struggle in just simply trying it's best to get by....
After this very truest representation had sold itself to the highest bidder (being its own inner weakness giving into the symptom, that is "giving up"), without so much as a single plausible (enough) explanation...
Things don't become tolerated (very well), anymore.
After all, it's up to the standards of one's own grief to now simplify the very behavior (in their own sequence, after sequence, after even more sequences that have sheer luck tied to them without hesitation for utter pleasurable shame for the results that clutter the very cog in the wheel) that gives freedom in the disguise for wonder. Wonder...that isn't including its own freedom, as that's just another common (filled) sense illusion, now.
It's the very scenario that agrees that it hast to become free...in order to see its own self for what it had become....
Meaningfully speaking, everything up to this very point in time...comes with an arresting degree for silencing the inner willpower of an inner voice that can't (safely, very well) reach for the outside world (and even remotely reach out into the outside world, like...AT ALL...)! And simply express (for the life of itself), its own symptom. Not only a symptom (or two...) But more the very part as to how, or why, or what essentially became of itself...when it started feeling this particular (and more peculiar way...), where it doesn't know how to handle itself, anymore (in that very dire moment for shameful results). Especially the guilt trip that it starts to feel (all the sudden), when it begins feebling itself over such hesitating tip-toeing maneuvering. But what comes (next, anyhow) with so much as a single surprise...is that there's always a certain something, (or certain someone) truly waiting for you on the other side of a spectrum (where you have yet to truly notice in ALL such forming varieties upon the certain specified number of emotions bleeding itself DRY for the appreciation of finding a solution too it's current problem....)
Once you understand this...or more like correcting the wrongs (that had up to this very moment in time, had made you this spiraling short-circuited piece of machinery, or justful faulty technological prowess...) Gives you the very nurturing desire to bid farewell to your own inner strength. Just so you can now have the very pleasure of now purging past this unknown barrier on the other side of this spectrum that has this very certain (someone) waiting for you...that will then of course, give you that single, (when you least expect it...) RESTART! That had been in an orderly fashion ever since the very beginning (when you first started first experiencing this symptom in the first place). A trapped scenario full of crippling sequences of events!
Apr 19, 2021
Apr 19, 2021 at 5:49 PM UTC
A body in full glory stands before him.
Perpendicular in patent black shiny shoes, skirt hugging her truest form!
Her eyes wide and sultry stare deep into his persona.
Finding, vibrant body heat!
A tigress on a hungry prowl.
She strokes her lips meaningfully with her sandpaper tongue!
She has patterns of her own.
Talons painted scarlet, remnants of her last victim!
She wants to seize and devour him.....
To chew on his his bone is her lust!
She desperately needs to eat....
Her tongue starts to trickle in jest....
Daring him to play!
She entraps him in his world of fantasy,
He is tempted....so tempted,
He needs to be fed, has desires of his own......
No fight in him.
He succumbs to her needs!
She expresses her desires.
Gesturing him to drop before her majestic form.
Holds his head in her hands, stroking his hair gently.
Sudden dire urges on.
The gentleness has left,
His hair was yanked.
She pushes him hard onto the bed.
Craving feed more as they grapple.
He turned, trousers full of promise succumbing to her, at last!
Copyrright, Lady Livvi 06/03/2013.
He turned, trousers full of promise succumbing to her, at last!
Copywrite, Lady Livvi 06/03/2013.
Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 3:05 PM UTC
The Many Benefits of Facebook Friends
A Facebook friend wrote meaningfully:
“Give me,
Five ways to give aid to people
Of Aleppo”
(You know where Aleppo is;
It’s on the lip(s)
of all the world).
A reader sent back this small clip,
A tiny snippet:
“Meditate!
Get rid of violent thoughts,
Of evil judgments that you sow
And sown,
And temper outbreaks that you’ve known.
Don’t only sit, feel sad and moan!
That is the thing this scribe can do,
Does do and plans to do.
You do it too!”
All done and said,
That was the ‘five good things’ contributed.
When he who wrote it
Noted
This.
I wrote right back and sent a kiss.
There are ten thousand like me.
The Many Benefits Of Facebook Friends 12.19.2016
Our Times, Our Culture II; War Book II;
Arlene Corwin
Dec 19, 2016
Dec 19, 2016 at 2:29 PM UTC
Call someone.
Read a book.
Enjoy the sun.
Allow yourself to breathe deeply.
Take a walk.
Express gratitude and kindness.
Muse and meditate.
Add a daily entry in your journal.
Gain clarity about your passions and strengths.
Invite positivity and act in service to others.
Connect yourself meaningfully to people and things around you.
May 28, 2022
May 28, 2022 at 10:26 PM UTC
This morning...
I looked to your closed eyes pleadingly.
I listened to your heart beat desperately.
I analyzed your body thoroughly.
Are you just a dream?
Or are you the one that has decided to stay?
Your eyes flutter open slowly.
Your lips kiss me meaningfully.
Your hands caress me gently.
Every morning you are reality.
Every morning, you relieve my mourning.
Sep 21, 2013
Sep 21, 2013 at 6:21 PM UTC
Leaning against the metal cold door
Nailed shut
Bang, bang
In it goes
Each entry cracks the heart
Heals the
soul
Making the feet grow
Cold
Here I am
In front of the
Entrance
That used to make up my
Existence
No Turing back
Doorknob is
Useless
Loving you was meaningfully
Fruitless
No knocking on the other end
All is quiet
Finally Time to mend
Against
The door nailed shut
Aug 17, 2011
Aug 17, 2011 at 2:51 AM UTC
(If you knew this place as I know it)
I am not just me. I have never been just me. I am a patchwork of everything that has been done to me, and that has nothing to do with being just. I am not perfect because I have never experienced perfection, my life has never been picked through for the best footage. I’m bearing the weight of the dailies, every last one of them.
I am not a story. My body is not made of letters, no meticulous thought has gone into me, I have not been drafted and re-drafted until there are no spelling errors in my bones. That does not mean I cannot create stories. I may not be made of the things I write, but the pieces of the world around me are enough that I can give a little of myself to many while still being whole.
If you knew myself as I know me, you would hate it, too much, too little, unevenly and over-dramatically. I don’t know myself at all and too well, all at once.
If you knew this world as I know it, you would love it. Love it and hate it, hate it because it’s going and love it because you’re going with it. I will keep telling myself that different does not mean good or bad, but I’ll still miss picking a crimson leaf out of a stream of sunlight in the middle of snowy fall.
You would miss it. You would miss sleeping. You would miss not being scared. You would miss being able to love everyone. You would miss thinking that everyone was willing to love you. You would miss your friends being free and knowing what you wanted for Christmas and not worrying about being afraid to look in the mirror.
You would miss six feet of snow in November.
And you would love it. You would love knowing more, knowing better, knowing more clearly, more complexly, and more meaningfully. You would love knowing that spellcheck and calculators that do long division exist. You would love re-learning how to imagine the world, to question everything, to accept and believe, to understand a life that is not your own.
I am not just me. I have never been just me. I am not lonely. I am not alone.
(I'm sorry if I sometimes need reminding).
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 1:03 PM UTC
*Writing poems bout you
I hang them in my room
The wind clinking the sound of words
**Living in a glass house
I invite the sun every dawn to dusk
To dispel shadows of the dark words
Meaningfully they glaze on hopeful strings**
But I let the water be the door
Where my translucent emotions flow
There the words roar and tranquil
**Last but not least on firm ground I stand
Where in my hands' clay the words mindlessly play
Moulding them in canvases to string them once again***
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 4:30 AM UTC
I have seen the sea of stars and bars flapping,snapping on the speed swept black topped highways
The glow of candles so meaningfully lit
Burning throughout the dark night
In numbers that dwarf the stars in the indigo skies
Ive heard the moans and cries
chorused by tears that fall as monsoon rains
to the ready swollen rivers of anguish
I have walked down those green rolling valleys
That lay thickly filled with white crosses
standing sentinel
What of these will speak for me
Who among them
Which has such powers to breathe life back into
this box of rattling bones
What glue might they conjure to piece together
my broken soul
Speak to me, shout to my ears
Though, I know the answer
all the spent intentions become arcade
Once the penny drops through the slot the show is
soon forgotten
Once again they speak of war
its line drawn through shifting sands
Again our armor stands ready, our faces into the winds of war
jSweptson
Feb 10, 2011
Feb 10, 2011 at 10:52 AM UTC
You are the most and the realest I have ever had.
You treat me so tenderly, lovingly, meaningfully.
And yet somewhere in the back of my head I say,
"You could be doing this with anyone."
Dec 27, 2012
Dec 27, 2012 at 1:25 AM UTC
To be completely honest,
You do not know what I am capable of.
You treat me to same way that
So many men I know
Treat their wives,
Including my father.
They order them around like slaves,
They blame them for things that are out of their control.
Yet they expect them to be superwoman
In the office, in the home, and in the bedroom.
The men in my life have been overly critical thus far.
Call me fat one more time
Is all I have to say.
I am not someone you want to mess with anymore.
This is not some "I am woman" rant.
I just want to tell these boys
That if they want to become men,
Keep it in your pants until the women in your life
Say yes.
Or until they say it meaningfully.
If you think that commenting on a lady's body,
Is going to make her fall in love with you,
Or want to ***** you,
You are sorrily mistaken.
It's actually just plain creepy.
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 9:31 PM UTC
For K:
As I was sitting,
legs lotus-folded (like human origami)
Listening to your message
Thinking how your wry wit always
sends trickles of glory into my laugh
As I was listening,
ears cold without the warmth
Of your conversation to heat them
I wished for your kind of company,
like a museum in the rain
And I was thinking
I don't know what this means
I was searching for evidence
like a deaf man for music
Or perhaps more like a dust mote
looking for home
Perhaps more like a map
Embossed vellum with names of
Places etched meaningfully
With red dotted trails leading
Looping and folding back into themselves
Except the X is absent
I was looking for meaning
in the ideas we'd shared
And here is the truth, I do not
twinge with dolorousness
I do not keep souvenirs of you
You will find no evidence of the time
(chalk-dusted fingerprints on cold glass)
Spent with me until you
(hush and behold the mystery)
reach to discover moments
(hidden and higher than most)
Stacked tall in my memory
(tip the shelves in the library, it all tumbles down)
Feb 1, 2012
Feb 1, 2012 at 9:07 AM UTC
*Your unsearching eyes, nonchalant ways
The distance between your being and everything
that is
everything simply is
and I can’t bear it
I’ve been searching since the day my eyes first opened
I search
and search
I search for things that may not exist
no
they most definitely do not exist
but then if I didn’t look thoroughly at every detail
I fear…
I simply fear
you, slipping away
you were never in my grip but I have this hold somehow
are you hiding something?
anything?
please hide something
I search for treasure
let me find you
and your deepest secret
and the beauty of an undiscovered mind
will be mine
and mine only
let me create a darkness in your heart
and let me surface it once again
I will be the one to bring you down
and to save you
be mine only
in my mind
and in yours*
Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 3:53 PM UTC
Down,
Up. West and eAst.
The south is opposite the northx
These things are so.......
Meaningfully meaningless.
The world is relative,
And we all think we are right.
Tomato, tomato(e).
As the saying goes.
Nothing is for sure,
Except that look in her eyes
That tells me it's all real.
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 3:24 AM UTC
Love is the essence of life
It is the antidote to strife
Love binds the people together
It makes our lives peaceful forever
Love is entirely different from lust
Selfless love is the best
Love is the greatest of all emotions
Man is the cleverest of all creations
Internet makes the world a global village
All of us have created a page
Every blog should become an adage
English makes our lives rich
It should come to common man’s reach
Writing poetry is a great art
It should touch our heart
All the world is a stage
Why should we live in a cage?
We should enjoy the beauty of nature
We relish every aspect of her feature
Our life on earth is not permanent
We should believe that it is transient
We don’t know when our life ends
One day the e-mail God sends
We should open it gracefully
We will have lived our life meaningfully
by JVL NARASIMHA RAO
Dec 27, 2010
Dec 27, 2010 at 6:07 AM UTC