"misunderstands" poems
Upon the dark night, striking three;
A tick representing each step in time,
but time overwhelmed by a trinity
of peace, and a plan greater than one's wildest dreams.
As the trees clap their praises unto a summer wind, and
waves flood the skies with their roaring rumbles of exaltation,
a bird sings unto the dark night her song, unique, sweet, and free-spirited
Another beauty upon the night, a tulip,
blossoming, not fully grown, in admiration of this free spirit, the bird.
The tulip observes from a distance the song the bird sings
A praise, a never ending thankfulness
"Thank You for the trees,
Thank You for the waves,
And thank You for me," the bird sings.
In awe of the song bird, the tulip longs to grow, to blossom, to fly, to sing;
Oh, the joy, the praise, the song she'll bring
when fully grown to exemplify her thanks to the three
But, Hold! The clock ticking three, a breath He takes.
The songs of beauty the bird once sang
are silenced more than a whisper
Oh, dear, wilting Tulip; she wonders,
"Why?" she misunderstands, "Why has the bird's song been hushed?"
Oh, so joyful with praise, the songs she sang,
but now unto another Audience, unheard by the flower;
However, the sun rises, the flower realizes,
A new day is upon her. The trees clap their praises unto a summer wind, and
Waves flood the skies with their roaring rumbles of exaltation,
Just like any other day.
Partaking in full bloom overnight, grown, she hears the call of three:
You're unique, sweet, and your free-spirit will sing,
for the steps of time past quicker than the steady rhythm of that clock ticking
Fly free, song bird,
Your legacy will only grow sweeter with time
As the bloom of a tulip smiles and praises the One unto which your song once thrived.
Feb 25, 2018
Feb 25, 2018 at 2:08 PM UTC
Thoughts spinning, creating insanity, Twenty Four Seven.
God do I Wish I could be sweet old Eleven.
All wanting sanctuary, Want to be on Cloud Nine.
Instead we sit in our lullaby, stuck in Our Rhyme.
Black Crows fading in the grass field.
Turning fast , to defend, pulling out The Zelda Shield.
Whistling back and forth, calming nerves.
Heart dropping, where tires are not stopping, she swerves.
Music helps along the way,
Helping figure out a reasonable comeback to say.
Waking up, you're my savior.
Finding the key to this rusty ****** door.
Living in the unknown,
Almost nothing is really shown.
Under the blankets is where She turns Alive.
With no Authority, all She does is Connive.
Each measly passing second,
She drowns slowly, hesitant to go in the deep end.
About to die, left with ourselves, are only true friend.
High hopes, the letter She wrote was for you,
Collecting thoughts of passion was all She could pass on through.
Through the trees, fast speeds show flashes of unconscious views.
Jumping off the rock sides, She misunderstands, How to find her Muse.
With my canoe, I'll trying my best to save you.
Every bone in my body needs to, cringes, fiends, breaks, as you petrified me to do.
She spoke out, in no means of worries.
Not listening, growing ignorant.
Unaware of Her affair,
Leaving Her, to jump, leaving Her indignant.
She becomes whole, in the Levant.
(est.j.r.e.)
Aug 28, 2013
Aug 28, 2013 at 12:21 PM UTC
you're always there when my mind gets lonely
and it always messes me up
because i thought
i had laid you to rest
my heart is destroying itself
simply because it misunderstands
you are not coming back
- l. m.
Dec 28, 2013
Dec 28, 2013 at 11:50 PM UTC
Isolation isn't what you think it is
person who is isolated is someone who can't comprehend the fact of loneliness
someone who tries to surround himself other people to feel better about himself
because he just doesn't give a ****
a person who doesn't feel for the people he surrounds himself around
an isolated person is just someone who cant make friends but can make "friends"
A person like that kid who sits by himself by the big oak tree at lunch
isn't isolated from us just misunderstood
That person who is popular, everyone knows of him,
and is just there is isolated
He has no friends, just people who are trying to be popular
He has no one but himself and the lies the people around him say
I don't feel sorry for the kid who sits by himself by the big oak tree
I do feel sorry for the popular kid for he isn't misunderstood but misunderstands
That no one really cares about what he feels
I feel sorry that he is isolated from the group to be some sort of advertisement
I feel sorry that I am the kid who sits by himself by the big oak tree
who is misunderstood but understands
I feel sorry that i am the popular kid who is misunderstands the concept of isolation
I am sorry that you misunderstand that isolation isn't loneliness
but instead means to be separated from the group
to be used as nothing but an advertisement
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 12:12 AM UTC
When he rose to speak, I pitied him,
that tall, ungainly, man.
His speech was high pitched,regional,
but clear to understand.
An inner fire burned in him,
his spirit fairly glowed.
His eyes and voice enchanted us
despite his rustic clothes.
The constitution was his text;
By chapter verse and line
He taught us what the founders meant,
the thoughts that filled their minds.
He said a true Republican
would not bid slaves to rise.
John Brown was no Republican,
his actions were unwise.
He explained the Government
could forbid slavery's spread.
The Union is a sacred trust
and must be preserved, he said.
I felt my heart on fire
when I heard him speak tonight.
When I saw his homely features
Transfigured by the light.
This Lincoln must be reckoned with;
if the South misunderstands,
They'll be tears and lamentations
in many homes in Dixie Land.
Sep 22, 2012
Sep 22, 2012 at 10:40 PM UTC
When he rose to speak, I pitied him,
that tall, ungainly, man.
His speech was high pitched, regional,
but clear to understand.
An inner fire burned in him,
his spirit fairly glowed.
His eyes and voice enchanted us
despite his rustic clothes.
The constitution was his text;
By chapter verse and line
He taught us what the founders meant,
the thoughts that filled their minds.
He said a true Republican
would not bid slaves to rise.
John Brown was no Republican,
his actions were unwise.
He explained the Government
could forbid slavery's spread.
The Union is a sacred trust
and must be preserved, he said.
I felt my heart on fire
when I heard him speak tonight.
When I saw his homely features
Transfigured by the light.
This Lincoln must be reckoned with;
if the South misunderstands,
They'll be tears and lamentations
around hearths in Dixie Land.
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 2:12 AM UTC
This man will protect you
When you need him most
Make you feel safer
And always be there
Sometimes he will cry with you
Shed tears with your pain
Hold you when you need comfort
And give you feelings of security
But this man has many sides
A burning passion in his heart
He has a hunger to be fed
He is a victim of his lust
Sometimes he says the wrong things
Misunderstands some of the signs
When a woman only needs to be held
Forgive him if he is blind to desire
For a woman is a creature of beauty
That all men are driven to want
We can not stop wanting to love you
We can not stop this need for you
A woman is a delicate flower to care for
And we need to help it bloom, to cherish
Not only to be lost in the sweet scent
But to always to allow it to grow
This man knows sometimes he is wrong
All he wants is to be needed, to be desired
To feel wanted, to know he is loved
The grace of any woman, makes any man
Aug 29, 2015
Aug 29, 2015 at 7:25 AM UTC
you make me so confused.
you yell at me to ask you whatever's bothering me
and i have to say "nothing"
and we both know it isn't "nothing"
because it's everything,
but how are you supposed to tell them "everything" is confusing?
i don't even know what to ask him.
and he tells me to spit it out
and i just swallow it
because is the conflict worth it?
he's like a mule
and i'm a mouse
and he can crush me with his hooves
and he always misunderstands me
so i leave for days
and come back when i'm dying,
in hopes that he'll bring me back to health
and he does
and he tells me he misses me
and then he disappears
and i'm too small for him to notice me until i'm being crushed.
May 5, 2017
May 5, 2017 at 9:44 AM UTC
Gazing through the looking glass, and attempting to reminisce, he lets go, relieves, and perceives.Colossi of raindrops subtly fall through sky’s shadows , violently battling the grey in great amounts, failing to come anywhere near the threshold of one’s most sensitive ear. Nature’s children appear to tremble as dark forebodings of a dreary future pervade the air. The danger and annoyances of such rarities is always given priority and significance. He misunderstands it; he believes in its false infinity.
Unable to stabilize, unable to achieve a desired normality. From every pitter, he regrets; from every patter he forgets. Forcefully drudging through the thick swamp of his mind, struggling to understand what and why, diminishing his hopes of any change, any desire. Suddenly, several elements collide against his one-way mirror in his cell and revitalize his consciousness. Looking through the droplet, his face pressed against, his mentality momentarily produces quick successions of thoughts and random impulses of recovering memory.
Every snowflake understands its place as sui generis; every raindrop understands its place as trite. The beauty of a snowflake with death, the dullness of rain with life. It’s uniformity and strict nature are necessary to sustain life, but somehow it places a bittersweet piece of an unusual feeling inside him. Its unexplainable transparency, disguising itself as invisible, but not untouchable, stimulates a sense of deep nostalgic hopelessness within him. As he discovers the profound pulchritude, and simultaneous incomprehensibility, of the paradoxical elements of natural and artificial state cooperating to achieve more of the same, he realizes more in this moment. The monotonous, repetitive beat of rain seems to harmonize in an odd manner with some contrasting presence.
A new rhythm to this sound, a new color to this sight. A particular emotion of gradually diminishing despair comes about as he observes little rain boots composing a sort of rhythmic song with the catchy beat of the rain’s clashing, the continuous flow of the tree’s trembling, the back-up percussion of the thunder’s loud suddenness, the sight of lightning's exciting flash, and the cheerful singing from their voices.Upon this feat, he accepts the shadow’s tears; no longer must he endure the pain of the past’s ********** of the future, now he begins to savor the varied colors of newfound harmony.
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 5:50 AM UTC
Acceptance is important
Accepting things will never change
Accepting the jealousy he feels for mum
Accepting this will never going away
Accepting he transfers the disappointment that he feels about himself onto to me
Accepting he listens to the witch and when He does
Sees me in a different way
Hears me in a different way
Misunderstands
Accepting he is unable to
Standstill
Alone
Accepting he will never stand up for his Children
He has already lost one to the witch
Accepting he needs to belong
To her
So he must agree
With her
Accepting you allow her to be so vile
To you
To every one
Accepting if the pain is explained
You fire
Like a spit fire
Rage, anger
Disappointment
Like darts to the heart
Accepting you allow her
To be your master
Jun 22, 2016
Jun 22, 2016 at 5:06 AM UTC
after I make the test, write the questions,
fill in the correct answers on
my answer key,
I gloat.
if you are the student
who takes my tests and fills in my answers,
the ones you think I want to hear,
and if you could see me when I make them,
when I carefully push number one, parentheses,
enter--the way my eyes narrow and my feet tap impatiently,
while I wait for quiz-like perfection,
you'd think I'm evil.
that my sole purpose in this life,
the one in which I'm confined to an office and a desk,
where I burrow underneath the cave, using piles of student essays
as a teacher appropriate pillow,
is to prove you wrong and say
*you'll never be any good.
your work is just not A material.
you pass. you fail.
you're wrong.
I'm right.*
what he does not know
(how could he)
that I hate myself when she misunderstands
(which she will)
when you dribble insults,
like stings, little by little,
class by class
until finally my pretty smile face
forms into a scowl.
I tell him to leave.
He sits in his desk,
Big Buddha of such suffering.
Everyone stares at him. at me.
someone says,
"I thought class was supposed to be fun."
but I never issued a lie
or try to imagine they will see me as
ally, comrade, equal one.
instead I am expected to welcome all
******** errors and personalities,
even the ones that sting,
and keep the pageant smile stretched until
my skin rips off my face, and
I'm finally seen.
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 12:13 PM UTC
Bury your head in the Pegasus. Bleed your hand dry.
Cry, Another season gone. And I'm still alone.
Hollowed out, Blacked-out heart of mine.
Society usually misunderstands, reject, feel anger
Towards something new, something they fear
And I can’t help but feel that I’m the only one.
Redundant. Rejected. A Minority to Society.
Eliminated from the Race, with a feeling of disgrace.
Shunned away with nothing inside. Nothing felt.
I can feel my heart, beating out of my chest
And there’s nothing left inside, nothing alive inside
Trying to glue together the fragile pieces of my broken home.
Using glue because there isn’t enough love to hold it.
Too late. Father gone. Abandoned by my own flesh and blood.
Goddess, pull me through; I need your guidance.
I’ve lost my lover again. I’ve lost my heart.
Help me find it in the entanglement of my life.
I lost it somewhere between the ******** lines.
Blood scatter. Glass shatter.
And I couldn’t help thinking this isn’t getting better.
Hiding behind this disguise I call me.
A mask of wood that conceals my hate. My anger, my dreams.
Look at the ruins of my life. Can’t believe I lived through it all.
But I’ve still got the smile, still got the scars, still got the strength
That will get me through another day. Sometimes I just want to cry.
Wish to die. But I won’t let the ******** win anymore.
Taking the upper hand I’ll get through. I’ll break through.
Aug 5, 2011
Aug 5, 2011 at 9:46 AM UTC
So-called well-read yet
I can't read between each line
or it work out until much later
what hides in their breaks-
so frustrated and in a fit of shame
seeing how long I had been mistaken
I took my old notebook
and cracked its spine
but still, I keep on writing
uselessly about a fear without a name.
that I can't explain, and I wish
this writing were not really mine.
Jul 25, 2013
Jul 25, 2013 at 9:31 PM UTC
i found the poetry site
my little 15 year old sister is on
i hate reading her poetry
because it reminds me
how wrongly
she sees
everything
today she wrote a poem
about last night
when i saw one of her paintings
i knew exactly what it was about
but said nothing
she lied to me
then in her poem
wrote me
like a filthy
angry
wrong
sister
who misunderstands
art
oh,
sister
if that is so,
you and i
are the same.
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 8:27 PM UTC
'Put my ice cream in the oven.'
'Apply some lipstick.'
'Stop winning and criticising.'
'I understand everything just fine thank you.'
But she laughs at her own jokes, she misunderstands mostly, she is loved by me.
Jan 7, 2019
Jan 7, 2019 at 7:54 PM UTC
You ask me what I want to be
and how I will get there.
You ask me why.
I say,
I want to be peaceful.
I want to be free.
And I will do this through love
because I want to be happy.
But you tell me no.
You say that is not the question.
What do you want to do?
You ask.
I just told you.
I want to create love
and feel it.
I want to find happiness
and share it.
I want to be free
and enjoy it.
I want to know peace
and spread it.
You say,
no, you are still not
understanding.
And you laugh at me.
Not understanding what?
You ask again,
what do you want to do
with your life?
I can't help but smile
and I think about
where we are
in that exact moment--
beneath the sun above
and the earth below.
physically together,
yet minds apart.
Minds apart
because when I look at you
I see that really
you don't get it.
And I say,
No, you are not understanding.
We live in a world
where conformity
is the trend.
Where money
is power.
Where materials
are 'necessary.'
Where survival
is not our bodies,
but a vehicle.
And 'happiness' comes
in the form of an
outdated document
with an idea
of what it means
to be 'free.'
And 'peace' is
the invasion of a country
where we don't belong
because it is right,
it is our duty
because we feel
we must
because we care so much
yes,
we care so much
about ourselves.
No.
That is not love.
It is not me
who misunderstands.
It is you.
You are society.
You see what they see.
And I am a bird.
I want to be free.
Feb 18, 2014
Feb 18, 2014 at 12:38 AM UTC
this place is masterful
in the art of illusions
one minute the walls
are closing in, and the
next the doors are all
locked and there are
no windows from
which you could
leap to safer ground
i stand in the kitchen
and try to be helpful,
but when washing
sharp knives i have
thoughts that i can't
even write down
there is a man in
the living room, but
he mimics a robot,
spending his days
repeating and repenting,
trying to lure us
into the fold
i feel alone amongst
eight, like everyone
looks through me,
misunderstands my words,
forgets my intentions
fading into corners
and under floorboards,
soon, i will be a ghost
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 5:19 PM UTC
Don't be too kind
Too loving
You'll be thought of
As weak
The small waves
Wear away the stone
Over time
The westerner
Misunderstands time
The nature of life
He must be constantly "doing"
His health depreciates
Because of the love of money
The world is an empty
Open space
Like a woman
It is nourishes all things
It lies low
In silence
It's okay
To be kind
And gentle
We are here to lose
You and I
Here to lose the game of life
I am here
Then I am there
I like living alone
And I don't care
I won't work
Won't work at all
There was a drone
Flying in the sky
In the park
On that day
I don't really have
Much to say
Except
It's repeating again
The cycles are repeating again
I live in a program
I cannot win
I'm poor
Alone
I don't care
This place is not
At all fair
I'm sick of those people
Go away
I don't want to see them
Not today
Jan 3, 2017
Jan 3, 2017 at 8:59 PM UTC
The hardest fact is people misunderstands
What I actually meant
And finally I realize my incapability
To explain my own feelings
Ending up in finding new ways to express
Quite common.
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 11:28 PM UTC
We come across many people, in the few days life offers.They all make us smile, laugh or cry at different phases of life, and such associations are indeed inevitable. But there are still some weird, yet rare among among them whom you like for the mere weirdness they posses. We start understanding them, and eventually get understood by them too. We eventually start caring for them, and get cared too...and later, this bonding blossoms into Friendship, and grows deeper and deeper in the time.
How strange it would therefore be, if the same person misunderstands, misjudges you, concludes and considers you to be a person, you never actually are, and your heart too knows this real deep that you'd never be, no matter what.But then, not everything can be debated and proved. Some virtues just demand a heart to feel, and a healthy uncluttered mind to perceive. It indeed hurts to let go,but holding on hurts even more. an therefore, you cant help letting go, since all we yearn is peace...which holding on might never give.
People come and go in our lives like seasons.Like you can't stop yourself from shivering in a cold day, and sweating in hotter one, the same goes with the people we come across.In short, every one affects us in some way or the other, and vice versa. There's a reason why people come in your life always, either they come to make you a better person, or they come as a better lesson. and practically, both elevates and nourishes our personalities.
A medicine is never pleasant, nor is hard work, and the same goes with the foe-y friends...their presence will often be tiring, and will drain you off your happiness and peace, but their existence and the advancements you do to cope up from their harsh behavior, will leave and transform you, into a better, considerate, and endearing you.Plus, it will turn you into an empathetic person, which we so need in a world like today.
Pain has always been a great teacher, and adversities are but a fuel to a good fortune..how can you ever know what actually is being hurt when you've never gone through it? how can you know what's a tear, when you've never shed one? and how can you know whats true intimacy and love, if you've never hated or rejected before? Don't give up on people, before they transform you into a new and better you by the mere harsh behavior which is good for you positively, to grow up as a wise person after they finally leave in disgust.
Jun 3, 2018
Jun 3, 2018 at 3:49 AM UTC
I've always loved the dark
There's something special about it
It's always been my friend
My confidante
I share all my secrets with it
I can be myself in the dark
...Uninhibited
...Unabashed
I truly live in the dark
I truly breathe in the dark
I cry in the dark
I imagine in the dark
Whenever i'm out in the light
I feel as if i'm constantly being judged
But in the dark i feel safe
For the dark never judges me
It accepts me for who i am
...Torn
...Tattered
...Broken
...Fragile soul
My soul is tormented on a daily basis
But the dark helps me survive
It gives me moments of peace
It gives my bruised soul some relief
It gives me temporary refuge from this world
...A world which constantly judges me
...A world which constantly misunderstands me
...A world in which i sometimes feel i don't belong to
Jan 9, 2016
Jan 9, 2016 at 1:33 AM UTC
Sleeves worn by broken trees-
I repeat
As the world goes on in glee
Defeat
No less a somber fellow
Borrow now he borrows
And burrows into your cotton cave-
A man
With a fluid feeling he misunderstands
Dead land
Where pain is of no mention
Tension here there tension
Indentations and stipulations on the seed of a neutered soul-
We must
And you lose or have lost it as you taste the cavernous hole
Of trust
Ribald fellow your weather betrays you it hangs your skull
On a lacking cloud that paints your spindly skin so dull
Gather what you must in the pool of shallow loving and shame-
No spine
As eminence confounds you and status escapes your stolen name
You shine
With the charms of dead brothers and the cruelty of a mother
Should you seek the soil now know that none will be bothered
Apr 18, 2020
Apr 18, 2020 at 3:25 PM UTC
O hell this thing (let's
call it a woman for now)
she walks around to the
bark of his orders, bends
over backward to his
sieg heils and and
and
Hatred will set you free
and and and if only I could
crawl away on all threes
she says better you than
me with the last bit of him
caught in the jaws of her
snap! snap! snap! having
torn off the hand that fed
her (who cares?) it's a
rap! rap! rap!
See how things change
so quickly, see?
This Greek arriving empty
shaking ****** the Trojan
horse she rides atop, wasn't
it glamorous? demanding
gifts rather than receiving
them except for the vicious
and banging pieces
banging their way
out of her mouth, she
could only SHUT THE
**** UP for so long
(see?)
and now it's too late
************ you're my
*****
(see?)
She misunderstands
EVERYTHING and so
she waves her vicious lips
once meant to please you
now spitting out a charm
a spell, a hell bent burnt
mantra and now
The world is wrong
including you (get used
to it)
She tells him in so many words
he only has borrowed minutes
minutes here and at a high rate
of bare and bored interest and
he had better return the unused
portion, dragging it out of a
lion's mouth
Aug 22, 2019
Aug 22, 2019 at 5:45 PM UTC
I wrote a song about you
The first I've ever done
I've been playing seventeen years
You'll never hear it sung
If I have to breathe the lyrics
I'll set fire to my tongue
I never talk about myself
because then you could not run
I'm a lie behind a fountain
The sun is to the moon
I hate the outer space
I lay inside—entombed
The granite cast of actors
Their eyes are made of gold
I'll take their scripts and hearts and souls
and sell them for more gold
Your smile led me in circles
You sought for what you sold
It was simply circulation
Your hands were awfully cold
Take it while it's cold
It still won't splatter
Drink it on the stove
It still won't matter
Seal it's lips to kiss
It still won't chatter
Raze it's crops to dust
It still won't gather
Strip it from its lenses
It still won't stare
Rip it from the moonlight
It still won't glare
Take it like a pill
It won't be taken lightly
It's in my heart—in yours
It will never grasp you tightly
It's never holding still
You simply can't deceive it
It just misunderstands
What's wrong with you, is wrong with me
You lack the essence of a friend
Things grow from roots that split
The strand means to an end
I don't like to say favorite
It has a way of changing plans
I'll look down at you
"Your hair—it still looks nice"
You'll look down at me
I won't be looking twice
Mar 17, 2019
Mar 17, 2019 at 10:58 PM UTC