"novelty" poems
Live in poetry
Hold unto novelty
Never settle
Never just be
**** being content
Sadness, emptiness, happiness, despair, love, hatred, wonder
They are all colours
Why paint in black and white when you've got the whole
spectrum?
Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 7:39 PM UTC
Woman wants monogamy;
Man delights in novelty.
Love is woman's moon and sun;
Man has other forms of fun.
Woman lives but in her lord;
Count to ten, and man is bored.
With this the gist and sum of it,
What earthly good can come of it?
11.1k
When the bakery was bought,
For the sake of novelty, uniqueness, etc,
Called it ‘bitter’
Laddu was bitter
Jalebi ws bitter
Cherry was bitter
Bitter, bitter
What bitterness, said people
The servant got bitter
Sir,
There are no bill collectors to turn away
Flies mock
She at home
Serves bitterness
While sharing the alienation
Which novelty and uniqueness supplied,
With eatables,
Biscuit said
Let’s add the salt of tears,
Eatables will not sell
If bitter
‘Please give me something old”
When the sound of a beggar
Intervened
Myself, who stood for novelty and uniqueness
Told him ‘ you can have this bakery’
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 12:31 AM UTC
Friends with modesty, honesty and quality
Friends with novelty, loyalty and equality,
Is What all desire,
And
Friends with disability, social inequality and religiosity,
Friends with 'weird' human ecology, and 'discriminating' ideology...
None wants to acquire..
Some traits of these,
Are undesirable for sure,
But not even a single person of them,
Need to be ignore(d)...
We all are humans, we all are friends,
We all are lovers of humanity,
We all are creators of humanity and
We all are sufferers of humanity...
We all are friends, we all are a family,
We all are a human colony..
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 4:47 AM UTC
J’ai mal à la tête en pensant au fait
Que ma vie sera peut-être perdue sous mes yeux
Que tout cet effort et cet amour se terminent
C’est peut-être pour le mieux.
Ne rien laisser de côté.
Il commence à pleuvoir
Attendez... je la vois clairement encore une fois.
Peut-être pas un au revoir, mais un début
Nouveauté sous forme de réalisation.
My head hurts thinking about the fact
That maybe my life will waste away before my eyes
That all this effort and love will end in demise
Perhaps it’s all for the best.
To leave nothing behind.
To say a final goodbye.
It begins to rain.
Wait…. I can see clearly again.
Maybe this isn’t goodbye, but a start.
Novelty in the form of a realization.
Dec 8, 2018
Dec 8, 2018 at 8:59 PM UTC
Gadgets you buy
Tomorrow die,
Pity
So fast
Lose novelty.
Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 3:07 AM UTC
Kissing upside-down.
At first it seems like a fun idea.
(If spiderman can, we can, right?)
But ultimately, it's clumsy
And awkward.
They say opposites attract
But when my top lip
And your bottom lip
Try to match up together,
There's no denying,
It doesn't quite fit.
A crash-collision.
With him it was like kissing upside-down:
Cool for a while
But the top and bottom just don't match
Quite like they do right-side up,
And it lost its novelty at a steady pace.
Two different halves don't always make a whole.
Sometimes it's two of the same.
Kissing her is like kissing regular.
I don't mean regular-regular.
I mean over the moon,
Past the stars,
Around the universe and back again regular.
I mean running so fast you think your legs
Might fall out from under you
And you might learn to fly regular.
I mean spinning in circles
On an old tire swing
Until you reach that moment when you forget where you are
And feel the rotation of your organs
So you stop to watch the world swirl before you
Putting everything out of perspective regular.
As unique as 'normal' could possibly exist.
I guess
For me,
Him and her
Just didn't seem to fit
The same way
She and her
Does.
And I don't think I'll be kissing anyone
Upside-down again
For a while.
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 4:09 PM UTC
Forlorn as a destitute child,
I wandered to the distant wild;
Through a peculiar lonelier wood,
Like a wave, roving as fast as I could.
Not long, I came by a myrtle river bank
Where early boughs grow wild and rank.
There my eyes kissed upon wild flowers,
All grandly dressed in neon colours,
Rhythmically whispering lullabies,
Ineffably upon velvety indigo skies,
Whilst swaying in a friskier dance,
That could render naked eyes in a trance.
At such a mesmerizing sight,
I drowned in a pool of sweet delight
Hence in wonderment shook my head,
And in a velvety voice whispered:
"Flowers, flowers, flowers, flowers
What brings about thy Ineffable colors?"
**And all flowers smiled and smiled,
And exuberantly all thus replied:**
"At dusk, when fair maidens of the night
Grandly dress in flocks, of burning bright;
And madly smiles about skies above,
Oh! Their opalscent eyes we flowers love:
So, from their pulchritudenous color;
So lies the mysteries of our allure."
At such a mesmerizing reply,
Sweet delight oozed from mine eye
Hence in wonderment shook my head,
And in a velvety voice whispered:
"Flowers, flowers, flowers, flowers
What brings about thy ineffable colors?"
**And all flowers smiled and smiled,
And exuberantly all thus replied:**
"At dawn, when the day's watchman
Doth weareth his novelty crown,
And treads upon yonder skies above,
Oh! His golden crown we flowers love:
So, from his pulchritudenous color;
So lies the mysteries of our allure."
At such a mesmerizing reply,
Sweet delight oozed from mine eye
Hence in wonderment shook my head,
And in a velvety voice whispered:
"Flowers, flowers, flowers, flowers
What brings about thy ineffable colors?"
**And all flowers smiled and smiled,
And exuberantly all thus replied:**
"When envious veils of dusk engulfs day,
Paving the fairest Empress way;
To grandly grace on yonder skies above,
Oh! Her rainbow robes we flowers love:
So, from her pulchritudenous colour;
So lies the mysteries of our allure."
At such a mesmerizing reply,
Sweet delight oozed from mine eye
Hence in wonderment shook my head,
And in a velvety voice whispered:
"Flowers, flowers, flowers, flowers
What brings about thy ineffable colors?"
**'And all,' all flowers smiled and smiled;
I mean, smiled, smiled and smiled,
I say, smiled, smiled and smiled,
And happiness bloomed in the wild.**
#bliss of solitude
©Kikodinho Edward Alexandros
Jumeira, Dubai
6th August 2017
Aug 6, 2017
Aug 6, 2017 at 10:09 AM UTC
when i watch you light your cigarette
i wish it was me instead
what a honour
being inhaled by you
id love to dance through your lungs
be inside your body and fill a space within you
but instead i am just myself
you know i'll always be there and
i don't feel like a novelty or a luxury
i am simply just the girl
who's lighter you will borrow
to smoke out the sorrow
of someone else
so much more than me
Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 6:24 PM UTC
if you find one happiness
like the barrel on your head
loaded with a pocket of air for you to breathe
then you know that if you sink
to atmospheric tides
you must find fresher barrels
when the novelty declines
and the oxygen gives way
to the oceanic brine
for the last moments of time
you’re chin-up on a water bed
the water cradles your esophagus
and then you find you surely must
find some fresher air to breathe
but to search is to be dissatisfied
to question once is to imply
that everything can be replied
with answers and with truth
that bucket on your head
running out of salty air
to stay is to slip into death
like listening to the ocean in a seashell
till slow blood flows in too few waves
but could you not also swim?
abandon the comfortable end
for the off chance that some underwater shelter
will serve you shots of oxygen?
the funny thing you find
when you let dying pleasure go
and you’re suspended, all alone
the gas trapped beneath
was too stale for you to breathe
but enough to buoy the unburdened barrel
into swiftly surfacing
Dec 13, 2011
Dec 13, 2011 at 6:37 AM UTC
In days dead and burried in time,
In a very far away enchanted clime,
In the mighty kingdom of Nineva
Where there fairly shone forever,
There once was a strange lonely wood
That ever in fairest robes of green stood
By the edge of a fair shoreline of pearl,
Whose mystery none may tell nor unfurl.
For akin to the most effulgent yonder star
That forevermore scintillates from afar
In a splendiferous novelty golden cluster,
So thrice scintillated the gem's luster.
And 'tis for this that as we all truly know,
All mortals, I say, all mortals of long ago
Gravitated from corners of distant lands
On the quest for riches by those strands.
Once, sweltering was the noontide
When upon a violent lonely rolling tide
A bunch of desperate pirates were seen
Nearing that wood of emerald sheen.
In a while, they'd gathered all they could,
Leaving not a single gem in the wood.
Alas! A wind murmured upon the skies
In faint whispers: "Woods have eyes"
So muttered all birds - all birds of the air,
All creatures in caverns desolate yet fair,
All leaves upon strange shadowy trees,
And all - all creatures of wild lonely seas.
But, despite the looming dark omen,
Swifter than plummeting drops of rain,
So hastily dashed every single pirate
Blindingly minding not about their fate.
They raised their silvery sails to take sail
But hark! All this - all this was to no avail;
For upon the skies no wind was seen
To render them across so wide a sea.
In a jiffy, louder than birds of the skies
All gems whispered, "Woods have eyes."
From that moment on, all lost their sight,
Doomed never to behold the sun's light.
And now, upon those murky restless seas
They dost weep but no plea can please,
For they were doomed to rove evermore
In search of their long forgotten shore.
©Kikodinho Edward Alexandros, Kampala, Uganda. 29th.July.2018.
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 4:03 AM UTC
Oh, I can smile for you, and tilt my head,
And drink your rushing words with eager lips,
And paint my mouth for you a fragrant red,
And trace your brows with tutored finger-tips.
When you rehearse your list of loves to me,
Oh, I can laugh and marvel, rapturous-eyed.
And you laugh back, nor can you ever see
The thousand little deaths my heart has died.
And you believe, so well I know my part,
That I am gay as morning, light as snow,
And all the straining things within my heart
You'll never know.
Oh, I can laugh and listen, when we meet,
And you bring tales of fresh adventurings, --
Of ladies delicately indiscreet,
Of lingering hands, and gently whispered things.
And you are pleased with me, and strive anew
To sing me sagas of your late delights.
Thus do you want me -- marveling, gay, and true,
Nor do you see my staring eyes of nights.
And when, in search of novelty, you stray,
Oh, I can kiss you blithely as you go ....
And what goes on, my love, while you're away,
You'll never know.
4.4k
I was just an obsession to you
A hobby, a toy
That you could play with one day
exploit all of its wonders
see what it could give to you
And the next day just casually toss in a shadowy attic
To be forgotten
To be found far in the future
Old, and dusty
Not broken, just dark from disuse
and abandonment
This is what you thought of me
This is how you treated me
Like a novelty, a child's toy
I can't believe I fell for your casual ways
The way you made me feel special
But I was never special
I was just another brief obsession of yours
A curiosity
I drew your attention, piqued your interest
But now you've found a new toy to play with
And I'm left here collecting dust
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 9:05 AM UTC
Aye, Vladimir, just before I met thee
I hath been sure I hath loved him-
no matter as queer as it may hath seemed!
Thou knowest not, how much tears I hath shredded
and noticest not, how t'eir vanity made me look dead!
But why-why then didst thou appear-
and wokest within me t'is secret fear-
with understanding in thy eyes,
and with a love t'at is to me so dear.
Why-why t'en thou left me, left me again!
Whenst I got to knowest thou but for a moment,
ah, with not so much of an endearment-
afforded ourselves only t'at streak of lovely,
but still weak of too a bond,
or any pact, of young novelty.
And everything was corrupt
As soon as thou re-released me
into t'ese qualms of insincerity
wherest I am still tossed about, guilty.
And hushed, hushed always,
like a trivial, parallel wind!
As though my dear heart's bathed in sin
and of a soul t'at is so thin
So worthy not of thy soulfulness
and sweet dreams of many happinesses.
Ah, Vladimir! If only thou could knowest
T'is thread of passion thou hath sowed
and how my entirety seekest being loved
By thee, and only by thee, o my rain!
As thou art but king to my sneaky moon
and my very own kingdom of stars
Not him-not him, o t'is I entreat,
albeit his wits hath been but to me so sweet.
Still he be a mistake, ah, a chilly autumn mistake
to me, from whom I didst just turn awake.
Probably thou would hath loved me;
imperishably and blindingly,
until all thy superb charms and wit
t'at wert but tortured and unbending
shalt be left within me lit;
and thus leaving our fiery souls entwined
with winds t'at art even sweeter
yet might be torturously everlasting.
Vladimir, Vladimir, oh my only Vladimir!
Thou altogether belongst with me; here,
so unjustly yet heavenly
And in our hands is cherished
our love, o, so wickedly-but fatefully!
How I longst to be thy lover, dearest-
and be so comely as thy only flower;
which ripens thickly in thy winter
and blooms robustly, in thy summer.
Mar 20, 2013
Mar 20, 2013 at 7:07 AM UTC
By serendipity's sake,
There mine eyes beheld her
Grinning with serenity about the lake,
Peeking from just around the corner;
Ineffably with a novelty luster,
Treading about wishy-washy skies,
Epitomizing all her ethereal grandeur,
That felicity exuded about mine eyes.
Alas! Only to turn around as to behold,
Vividly behold such novelty pulchritude
About her gown and crown of gold,
Than when it didst dawn upon me:
"She was discreetly decamping yonder,
Leaving me a desolate, in a vale of pain,
Down the dumps & a lonesome wanderer
Wishing to catch a glance at her again!"
May 31, 2017
May 31, 2017 at 4:43 PM UTC
'the perfect royalty.'
funny.
funny how it rhymes with your disloyalty, princess.
the world's been wondering where you've been.
no, no one knows how hard your life is.
how hard it is to lie.
no, no one knows how scarred your mind is,
or how bent you are to smile.
'the perfect royalty.'
funny.
hilarious how your title rhymes with your cruelty, acquiesce?
the school's been asking questions 'bout where you've been seen.
no, no one knows how tough this act is.
this character's a show.
no, no one's guessed how rough the fact is
that your life's not one they know.
'the perfect royalty'.
huh.
doesn't mean you're perfect too, you're just a novelty, do you attest?
the mirror's looking for you 'cause you're hiding from its screen.
no, no one understands your worries.
no one cares about your strife.
no, they want to see new accessories,
or else just quit this life.
'the perfect royalty'?
Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 1:16 PM UTC
1
Grey sky greyer sea
a litter of rocks balance
coat bright hat blue mittens striped
as on these November steps
you collect the gifts of the ebb tide
2
Glint green this living tapestry echoes
Jilly’s field with tractor not Devon
but salt-flats rocky revetments moorland rising
a map crossed by a chiromatic line
our destiny marked out on this concrete wall?
3
Beached clinkered double-ender
a bay-courser sjekte strand-crunched
fit once for Viking raiders two abreast
now daubed with tin ends of patriotic paint
a sea-steed hobbled hard on the shore
4
Bow faced a sea helmet thrice rope strapped
slow moulded over the boat builder’s ribbanded jig
a spanglehelm of wood
curved sheer straked plank bilged a tuck stern
raising its proud head seaward
5
Viewed from the air a map rolls out
north to the tilted curve of the horizon’s rim
cloud scattered mountained red
betwixt seas sun chalked wine-stained a volcanic isthmus
provokes desert the western waste land of a brooding city
6
Oh face of ropes knot eyed!
you blue cheeked wide smiler
wild wild your head of hair
beachcombed and splayed
wrapped on the sternest post
7
She sewed sugar kelp on the sea shore
a sporophyte with sheltered frond
strap-like stem stiff and smooth
of the species saccharina a spring-tide
stalk set among substrates shells and stones
8
I the camera turned and caressed
by her slight fingers (the pinky raised)
my viewfinder close to her blue grey eye / I
focus on this kelp-needled novelty feel her breath
wait for the thumb press the electronic click
9
Here is the beach walked in darkness
the fishermen shadows against the moonstruck ebb
fingers laced the sea’s breath in our ears
wave upon wave un-folding on the sand and later
we unfold then draw back in love’s relentlessness
Sep 15, 2012
Sep 15, 2012 at 4:09 AM UTC
The salted air elates a feeling of real real.
And by real real, I mean the realist real there is.
Child like intuition and loss in present ecstasy
Underlying a layered and angsted mind.
I loved a psychopath as a best friend
But finally
His confusion clawed at my chakras with convoluted and displaced passion
But on Protection Island
I feel
Protected.
Whether the next sunrise meets me through the dingy drapes of a budget hostel, awash in a strange and urban melancholy wrapped warmly on all sides
Or on a windy beach with the blue flow of sparkled wash and distant cloud capped peaks and Dover-beacon ferries which remind me of novelty globes and my father
The buzz of early morning travel as a child
I will be fine.
To lighten my load I hid The Dhamapada and St. Francis of Assisi in the hopes and faith that they would be left in peace blanketed in underbrush
Being peacefully caressed by ocean wind and the beautifully dilapidated wood-house
The protectors warm grin of welcome.
I want to feel okay again
And I feel like okay is finally waking up from her peaceful slumber
Returning from vacation to remind and comfort my unassured and pummeled mind
Like a lover returning from a followed dream
A long, warm embrace which says it all
No words for I love you
Just a feeling and oneness as old as the world itself.
Sep 4, 2012
Sep 4, 2012 at 4:52 PM UTC
Shade shifter, turn-me-red.
Master the colors and trick
the disguiser--
morphing electric skin.
Make novelty probing
into the dark
unknown.
Shake suiters with perfect
control, of all the senses.
In a savage land, or a rare
spectacle of courage
no under sea mountain
is too strong.
Or ocean to shallow
to fill the hole,
A schism dares to thunder.
In a serene wave
watched by a moon's
cyclops gaze.
Feb 2, 2013
Feb 2, 2013 at 6:07 AM UTC
the loneliness of a pair of eyes
deep and serene as a vast field of wildflowers
nestled between great mountains
they see your beauty and feel your allure
your bight colors make them feel alive
your novelty makes them feel worthy
the lonely people come and pick of your abundance
they take you home and display your essence in a vase
a memory of vitality
until the flowers choke and fade away from their Source
so the lonely people return
day after day they pick a small bouquet
because the field is endless
so it seems
what’s a few flowers to a whole field?
they picked the field to scraps of color barely vibrant
the field has grown thistles and thorns around its edge
with a riddle guarding a single entrance
“What are You that I Am?“
(to know you must
become the field)
Sep 15, 2018
Sep 15, 2018 at 10:06 PM UTC
My conscience is loud
yet my voice never comes,
It's disarming what dependency can do, altering your character,
until you are simply a character,
weaving falsities into strands of fools gold, until you're living in an armor
of the emperors new clothes.
I swore to myself,
that I would never again be this person, the one with my finger
on the self destruct button,
but sliding down the hill
comes much easier than climbing.
And at the bottom,
numbness awaits me,
making me fearless.
I feel the cold wash over me,
goosebumps all throughout my being,
as the waves begin to rise.
She covers me,
salty yet sweet,
and everything makes sense.
The meaning of life in a pretty peach casing.
I am Invincible.
I am Oblivious.
She peaks and soon crashes,
repeatedly against me,
making me feel like the world could end and I wouldn't even think to care.
But what at first seemed exhilarating, wears on me to no end,
the buildup and constant let down.
She's lost her novelty,
and with that,
the numbness fades.
Sobering up for long enough to realize,
I am the definition of insanity.
Inviting you back in so often,
I no longer have defenses against you.
You snuck into my priorities without me ever noticing.
Like that song you hate so much but can't help to sing.
Will I ever get rid of your tune in my head?
Will I ever be able to say no when you call?
Jun 12, 2017
Jun 12, 2017 at 8:51 AM UTC
Someone asked me why was I so nice?
Why did I greet people with a smile?
Why didn't I reply to a nasty comment with an equally nasty comment?
At first I was taken aback with the line of questions.
I couldn't quite grasp the shock in their voice.
Why was being nice such a novelty?
And then it hit me!
Niceness isn't expected anymore,
Compliments are never given anymore without expecting something in return,
Smiles are nonexistent,
And kindness is a thing of the past.
Why am I nice?
In a world full of hate,
Full of fear,
Full of ugliness,
Why am I nice?
Why do I smile at strangers?
In a world where the mean excel,
Where the bullies rule,
Where being bad is applauded,
Why do I still smile at strangers?
Why do I compliment my peers?
In a place where putting people down is winning,
Where we try to compete for beauty,
Where calling someone beautiful or handsome is considered "flirting",
Why do I compliment my peers everyday?
Why don't I reply with hurtful replies when offended?
In an environment where I'm supposed to curse at a peer for doing the same,
Where I'm supposed to yell when being yelled at,
Where I'm supposed to show how hard I am in a very hard world.
Why don't I reply with hurtful words?
It's very simple,
I smile because you don't know who needs to see a smile,
I compliment because i believe that everyone is beautiful,
I'm not hurtful because I know how it feels to be injured with words,
And most importantly,
I'm nice because this world needs a light,
It needs kind words and gestures.
I don't want to feel hate, remorse, or coldness.
I need to stay soft for those who need a soft place to land.
This is why I'm "nice".
-Espe T.
Jul 11, 2016
Jul 11, 2016 at 12:42 PM UTC
Born of a binary,
black/white,
white/ black.
Cultured by silence,
a blank slate,
but no more tears.
Time isn't real.
They speak, they say,
tell me there's nothing wrong with me;
standing in the kitchen with my
grandmother telling me there is
nothing DIFFERENT about you.
Strive to conform.
Sameness is a casualty.
**I DON'T GIVE A ****
about conservatives
.
"Humanists" avoiding their toxic
misogynistic tendencies,
old friends enlisted
voluntarily perpetuating a
system of violence and suffering,
others are bluffing, don't say ****
walk eggshells,
I must be a tiger loose from the cage,
and they're waiting to see who becomes the
canary in my coal mine.
Rhyming by incident,
but I hate this **** & I'm not all right.
Women can participate in their own oppression,
minorities can be racist,
we're all raised in a ditch;
Patriarchy, capitalism, class values,
botched messages, "color blindness",
etc. etc. etc.
**** everyone, and don't treat me like I'm better
or I should know better, or I have to be "perfect"
if I want to be "different". Raised in a ditch.
Cultured by racism and depression.
I think of suicide like a novelty
until I don't
.
.
.
Everything turns grey and reads like sloganeering.
Waiting for the past to manifest as a trauma.
Waiting for the past to make sense.
Waiting.
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 11:44 AM UTC