"nutshell" poems
My ***** is a dream come true
my ***** is for me and for you
my ***** is a simple get away
for cats and hearts that are astray
my ***** is an action star
and you are the leading lady
you can play with my ***** like a guitar
but please don't leave it off shaking
my ***** is a spectacle
all of the world's wonder in a nutshell
but if there's one thing my ***** needs
it would be time and seeds
it needs to grow because it is small
this poem was just used to stall
Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 12:42 PM UTC
A view just before sunrise
Resembles like a sunset
But the difference is vast
As it is fills with a hope of rays
A view just before sunrise
Is well felt deep inside
When it starts to gleam
With its sun rays
A view just before sunrise
Is a blooming sun of rays
Which fill with bright lights
And make beautiful sights
A view just before sunrise
Is a view of hopes
Excited in full of vibes
With its vibrant colours
A view just before sunrise
Is a one more chance
Given to know the worth of lives
To live with full of senses
A view just before sunrise
Is to be grateful to God’s grace
To be a part of living miracles
Especially in this competitive eras
A view just before sunrise
Is enjoyed well when it rises
And when it rise to its bests
It seems as smiling at us
A view just before sunrise
Is a smiley face of sun
As of a blooming sunflower’s
With its joyful pleasures
A view just before sunrise
Is the waiting periods
To see the rising queen
Reflecting as golden eyes
A view just before sunrise
Is hope of new days
In its blessed paces
For every faces
A view just before sunrise
Helps to plan in advance
To utilise the opportunities
With its best ways
A view just before sunrise
May bless us to rise
With its immense cheers
So all can have its leisures
A view just before sunrise
Is the stipulated time frames
To harvest the best nuts
From the life’s tests
A view just before sunrise
Is to raise yourselves
To shine as jewel stones
As a sun in yourselves
A view just before sunrise
Is to enjoy the glory of living vibes To make best diamond from coals
So that it lustre in darks
A view just before sunrise
In nutshell, is a glorious shine
As a diamond kept in caves
To brighten the path of ways
Nov 30, 2019
Nov 30, 2019 at 8:04 PM UTC
Moments like these racing through me:
Looking out the bus window,
stacks of lights
in square, blinded blocks of cement.
Golden trees
turning brown and barren.
But moments like these,
I'm miles away, I'm someplace else.
Moments like these passing me by:
As I wonder through streets,
alleyways wafting in dark sewerage;
Seafood bistros glaring at me.
My hips sway, my feet sink
into exotic sand, sunshine warm.
Floating effortlessly along the dead concrete,
opening my tiny door; this nutshell abode.
And I can’t breathe here
without moments like these.
They are the broken pieces
of my longing heart.
Slowly keeping me together
in these moments’ reality.
Moments like these, slipping, speeding away:
Like endless traffic in angry madness,
in cities that awaken in darkening hours.
The tranquil silence in my heart
guides me to your faces.
One by one I dream for each;
For all the things we want, the good things we need;
For happiness, love, success.
Each thought embedded, embroidered
into moments like these:
Sitting on a bed, millions of miles away,
a cold, rainy day –
A heart beating for moments not these.
(c) Mel D. Ltd. 2010
Nov 12, 2010
Nov 12, 2010 at 9:46 PM UTC
A is the Alphabet, A at its head;
A is an Antelope, agile to run.
B is the Baker Boy bringing the bread,
Or black Bear and brown Bear, both begging for bun.
C is a Cornflower come with the corn;
C is a Cat with a comical look.
D is a Dinner which Dahlias adorn;
D is a Duchess who dines with a Duke.
E is an elegant eloquent Earl;
E is an Egg whence an Eaglet emerges.
F is a Falcon, with feathers to furl;
F is a Fountain of full foaming surges.
G is the Gander, the Gosling, the Goose;
G is a Garnet in girdle of gold.
H is a Heartsease, harmonious of hues;
H is a huge Hammer, heavy to hold.
I is an Idler who idles on ice;
I am I--who will say I am not I?
J is a Jacinth, a jewel of price;
J is a Jay, full of joy in July.
K is a King, or a Kaiser still higher;
K is a Kitten, or quaint Kangaroo.
L is a Lute or a lovely-toned Lyre;
L is a Lily all laden with dew.
M is a Meadow where Meadowsweet blows;
M is a Mountain made dim by a mist.
N is a Nut--in a nutshell it grows--
Or a Nest full of Nightingales singing--oh list!
O is an Opal, with only one spark;
O is an Olive, with oil on its skin.
P is a Pony, a pet in a park;
P is the Point of a Pen or a Pin.
Q is a Quail, quick-chirping at morn;
Q is a Quince quite ripe and near dropping.
R is a Rose, rosy red on a thorn;
R is a red-breasted Robin come hopping.
S is a Snow-storm that sweeps o'er the Sea;
S is the Song that the swift Swallows sing.
T is the Tea-table set out for tea;
T is a Tiger with terrible spring.
U, the Umbrella, went up in a shower;
Or Unit is useful with ten to unite.
V is a Violet veined in the flower;
V is a Viper of venomous bite.
W stands for the water-bred Whale;
Stands for the wonderful Wax-work so gay.
X, or ** or *** is ale,
Or Policeman X, exercised day after day.
Y is a yellow Yacht, yellow its boat;
Y is the Yucca, the Yam, or the Yew.
Z is a Zebra, zigzagged his coat,
Or Zebu, or Zoophyte, seen at the Zoo.
7.1k
Your fingers are on my throat
the world is rocking like a boat
an ocean
is unbearable
because it never seems to end
and all I can do is float
Your lips are rosebuds that never stop moving
and somehow I find my own disgust soothing
my fingertips
are numb
whenever I lose myself to the waves
but you're deaf so I'm unsure what I'm proving
Your move was the deadly spawn of knight
I sacrificed my pawn, paralyzed by fright
we will protect
the king
from sicknesses like you, *******
Checkmate. I never lose a single fight.
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 11:19 PM UTC
hm. somehow i missed you,
anxiety. i feel
more myself, this is
familiarity in a
nutshell, i know the
buzz
in my chest cavity
better than i know
myself,
it seems.
i guess i'm not the epitome
of health, these days
late nights
droughts and self-doubt all
seem to take out
the part of me that used
to dream. or think. or
do anything at all
really.
i guess that's okay,
i guess
between loneliness
and fear there's
an alleyway, home,
a place you don't go
until you're there,
realizing more
and more
how easy it is to stay
and how hard it is to care.
Apr 16, 2018
Apr 16, 2018 at 8:14 PM UTC
Somebody put Kylie Minogue on
from the wall mounted touchscreen one-pound-a-go jukebox-
Coldplay would've been better, but I should be so lucky-
and the rising water in the Titanic's engine room of noise
rose to a First Class stateroom chatter and Kate Winslet
and the queue to the bar grew a little longer
and then
you
walked
in
like
a
Sunday
morning
walk,
one long stroll by a river edge or lake side,
through a Westfield, Bluewater Meadowhall
in one long rehearsed map move entrance
dodging standing drinkers and their plus ones in Zara trench coats and Boden shawls,
and you left a wake of wet forest and crumbling beachhead afternoons behind you as you
walked
on
through
the
crowd
to the pool table at the back where you watched
*** after ***
after pint
after ***
after we need more one pound coins to play more pool,
and you went out for **** though you don't smoke yourself
and you looked up into the mist because you're the kind that would find New York Stuart Little big:
mostly building, building, building, window, balcony, bridge, statue and Central Park trees,
and you walked back in with river eyes, your lids moving from cold back to behind-the-fridge, pub-room warm
and they watered a little, Pacific blue sliding over eternal black;
I think she's the kind that needs a lion tamer not an orchestra leader,
but I've only got Petit Filous muscles and I had four raw eggs this morning and I'm still not as strong as I’d like to be,
(put the baton down, Tim)
a River Phoenix younger Harrison Ford stasis, one train wreck ride to remember,
nowhere near the lion tamer you need.
Kylie sings for the fifteenth time in a row,
and the bar is past last orders though cash is pushed under for pints
and you disappeared under bar light
and then into the moonlight
and now I'm sat grieving
the Golden Retriever of The Nutshell
in Bury St Edmunds this evening.
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 12:26 PM UTC
Imagine a world without a creative thought.
Rubies, Diamonds, and Gold
Values that were never sought,
It caught your attention but you
Couldn’t be at amaze,
Amazed at the fact of something so beautiful
Astonishing, lost in a maze.
You twist and turn
Left and right
You’re stuck and in a nutshell
You wish you could describe it, but you fail to Upheld
The creativity, the essence, the beauty
God, I wish you could see
The marble, the bronze,
Whew… It’s so sweet
I feel I can taste it.
Its sugar, cinnamon, spice
Nothing nice, but I want it
Flaunt it, tease a little… Who’s it gonna hurt?
Tenacity, Generosity,
Who ought to be?
The one to harness something
Special
It’s a jewel, stolen from us at the beginning
Human nature bought it here, well get it back
You’ll see, because we are nothing without
CREATIVITY
Jan 20, 2013
Jan 20, 2013 at 6:24 PM UTC
You were crying
Howling
Upset
Depressed
Maybe
And repeteadly
Blamed me for it
Now its enough
I can't take it anymore
I blame you
I blame you
For the times i hit myself
And you looked away.
I blame you
For the times i were
On my knees begging
You not to go
But you left.
I blame you
For the days I
Cried so much
That no tears were left to shed.
I blame you
For all the pain
I felt in my chest.
I blame you
For closing me
Up into a nutshell.
I blame you
For stealing my
Confidence and self respect.
I blame you
For driving me insane
And all the headaches.
I blame you
For not letting me be myself
And converting me
Into a mannequin.
I blame you
For ripping me apart
And my soul.
But whats the point of blaming you
Doesnt bring me back or you
Its just a game where we just blame.
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 3:29 AM UTC
Ever wondered about my style?
What I admire and what I deem vile?
Well, gather around, I'll let you see
Who I am, through what else, but poetry?
My favorite flower is a cherry blossom.
As for food, bread is awesome.
I spend much of my time on Twitter.
I like birds, the ones that flutter.
My favorite author is Ms. Anne Rice.
Her book, "Memnoch" is very nice.
My favorite poet is Aleister Crowley.
As for artist, that would be Dali.
I like Reggae straight from Trenchtown.
Most of all, I like System of a Down.
Philip Wesley is my favorite composer.
If I may be so bold, Chopin, move over.
My favorite film is Sweeney Todd.
By my top director, who is slightly odd.
Johnny Depp is my favorite actor and hunk.
I'm not a fan of touchdowns and dunks.
A big interest is Nutrition and Health.
I'm against Corporations and Banks, with all their wealth.
I like Documentaries and things that make me think.
Carrot juice is one of my favorite things to drink.
My favorite painting hangs on my wall.
The artist or name, I have not a clue at all.
I like eating cherries and playing pretend.
I like talking to those I consider a friend.
I like dancing at raves, even on the stage.
I like my job, though it's minimum wage.
I'm good without gods, I bow to none.
No political party, with that, I'm done.
That about sums me up, I hope you see
My likes and interests described to a tee,
In the fashion of the rhyme scheme A and B.
Did I mention the fact that I write poetry?
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 3:34 PM UTC
Home
Some people can recognize
A tree or a front yard
and know
they've made it home
The walk from the car door
To the front porch
Becomes habitual
Instead of intentional
They get lost in the
Contentment of familiarity
But what happens when you
find yourself
So adrift, so off-course
That you've worn a path in the circle you find yourself walking in
What if the place you're looking for,
Your home
Was never really home After all
But rather a false sense of security
Wrapped up
In a pretty pink ribbon
On top of the layers
Of gripping manipulation
How many circles can I walk in
Before I give up looking?
How long before I'm lost for good?
Home for me
Is not the familiar walk
To the front door
Or the yard with overgrown grass
that makes weeds look like bushes
Home is a sea of senses
Blending together in perfect harmony
Home is walking in
And seeing red
Red skillet
Red chair
And my favorite redheads
Home is the smell of
Fancy hand soap
Fresh laundry
Fragrant candles
And farty brussel sprouts
Home is the first sound you hear
A chuckle
A musical
The clearing of a throat
Our favorite tv show
Home
In a nutshell
Is freedom
Freedom to laugh
To cry
Or maybe both at the same time
To yell and to vent
Without the burden of shame
Or regret
So home
You see, is more
Than the tree
Or the porch
Those things could vanish
And leave you stranded
Home is laughter
And friendship
That won't leave you lost
It is safety and belonging
That says
“You are okay”
It is the weight of a burden being Lifted off your shoulders
Home is love
Jan 7, 2018
Jan 7, 2018 at 10:31 PM UTC
connected with love
there lais the ****
and itchi
as a dard , a poisonous
and **** pain
love is a heartbreak,
pain is refreshing,
as an addicted to feel,
don't specting but pain
and spittings, then the suffering,
after all happens, they love me, back
after the hurt, i don't look back,
used to , feeling their
love,
after i'm trew
like an insomniac,
feeling the love
after the hurt
like a heartless man,
specting some brave femme,
that holds mi hand,
DURING,
not after is over,
AFTER THE SPITS
AND THE HATE,
y never look back.
c'est tout c'est tout.
but love is all over
after i clean my face
i can't feel it no more,
pride or wise,
who knows , who .
no regrets, im lucky ,
for trie to love,
maybe is not love , is
only passion, and pain,
like a ****** or a fool
who knows, could i love her
yes
should i love her
NO
respect and
compassion,
are essential,
should i no, could i,
maybe i can't, not being
is a curse, in some way
not being was my cruce,
and can't use it as a crutch
and my curse sting like the bugs
for the creeps system,
like a cyborg, with a camera, in my eye,
and a phone, in my ear and my ***
maybe cyborgs,
can't be loved , in
the right time, or
cowardness winns,and
is a rule, in the circles of
hate, some wankers are.
some peace and
privacy, would be cool
my life is like nutshell
the only one of y kind
no common points, all alone
nothing cost, all is easy,
love, even hate, physics,
and humanity, more human
than humans.
in the end, love
probes he's there,
watching, threw his strings,
should i could i
who knows, who knows
connected, and painful
is the road,
LOOKING SOMETHING
SWEET, AS STRAWBERRY
MARMALADE,
ON HER **** BODY
but is only pain
what's left, and the spits
on my face. should i
maybe, but i can't.
after all the pain,
and the smile, on
the creeps faces,
but connected is the pain,
with the trie to love,
but i can't love the spits
on my face.
could i, who knows who knows.
pride or wise, love o hate,
respect is essential,
in everything, love or hate.
respect is what's left, should
y love the one who help that ****
pride or wise, who knows
respect is all is left.
respect is love,
pain is not, and know
is all what's left.
sweet and itchi
**** *** hell,
like the venom,
of the snake ,
is that old,
**** heart pain.
Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 11:05 AM UTC
I'm a little shy
And kinda loud
A natural leader
And very proud
Brown Eyed Girl
An attractive face
A little clutzy
And not much grace
Born Again Christian
Because my God saves
Nothing in this world
Can take His place
I have 3 amazing children
Who I absolutely adore
I'm starting to wonder
Maybe I want more??
Health and fitness
Is what I do
Teaching kids at church
I love to do too :)
That's me, y'all
In a nutshell
Want to know more?
Ask and I'll tell
Jun 14, 2013
Jun 14, 2013 at 11:29 PM UTC
i.
i still feel you in those times when i can drain the pain from my veins just long enough to smile, before it rips my skin and crawls its way back into my blood stream.
ii.
you are every poem i have ever written about love in a nutshell. you are so **** pretty. your pretty is a shredder, still ripping me to particles when all i want to do is sleep. forever.
iii.
i'd sing no doubt but you don't speak anyway. if i disregarded that though, would you see the irony? would you see that what i mean is i love you, i love you, i freaking love you, and i'm sorry i didn't try hard enough.
iv.
i still think you weave words like blankets for newborn angels. even when the blanket is wool, and it's itchy, and god babe, was that last poem about me? because if so, i want to ask if i'm a baby angel or if i'm just one or the other, a baby or an angel. because right now i don't feel like either, i just feel lost.
v.
you make me sick.
vi.
not because i don't love you.
vii.
i'd prefer you burn me with words instead of whipping my already scarred heart with silence. now my wings are falling off and i am falling apart with them. the cloud i'm floating on is pitch black and its on a pathway to something horrible.
viii.
i define fragility with silent sobs in the back of my throat. my wrists still throb even though for almost a year, i've been totally clean. the amount time i've been clean is coincidentally very close to coinciding with the amount of time i've known you, and i don't know if ever knew you because i never thought you'd just go like this.
ix.
i left for you. almost everything i do is for you- why don't you understand?
x.
i'm still not ready to say goodbye so the change in the weather tries to do it for me. it says that a new season means a new life, and since i didn't know how to live without you in the old one, maybe now i can learn to live without you in this new one.
xi.
this is almost a goodbye. one day, maybe it will be.
Oct 4, 2016
Oct 4, 2016 at 7:00 PM UTC
I delved deep this time
Leaving a great pit
Inside
And I let insects and reptiles
Nest and hatch
To fill the void
And to harbour evolution
In a nutshell
But monsters grow fast
In darkness
And absence of words
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 5:26 PM UTC
You sit in silence, on lotus
deeply meditate, in the end
recount the tale of life, simple
for a moment,in a nutshell,
the sky of your mind is clear.
But materials of millions
of light years in our tale
is beyond retrievable limits,
on that no confirmation
is needed, simple logic will
tell you that the life you live
couldn't be an isolated one
every one of the neurons
of your brain, is a star in this
thickly braided, interwoven
universes, that die and take birth.
Before and after simply
must be there, but, as it is
out of bounds for the senses,
limited to a time and space
we are groping in the dark.
So what now, don't you
want to go beyond --
in to the ocean where
human logic can't stand,
and end the intergalactic
expedition with light
and darkness as references.
Break the final barrier
exploring the universe within,
decide to be the light
undiminished for ever;
embrace enlightenment
breaking the golden chain
that ties down, desires.
Mar 18, 2016
Mar 18, 2016 at 10:40 PM UTC
*Wandering alone on a dark street
Not knowing where I am
My phone ran out of battery
Now I can't even use "Maps"
It's too dark to see
The signs on the houses
Copenhagen in a nutshell
I'm not surprised...
A stranger walks over towards me
With his eyes fastened on me
In my head panic rises
A thought screaming
****** ******
**** paranoia!
Calmly he asks me
Do you know where I am?
He was just a lost boy like I...
We discover
That we both are looking
For the same building
So we walk together
While we keep talking
Just like me
This guy doesn't know
Copenhagen that well
But we found the college
And said our farvel...
It's funny how two heads
Can be better than one
Since none of us
Would have found the college
On our own
But two heads only works
As long as it isn't about feelings
Because then everything
Becomes a mess...
Since there's no one
Who always
Will be feeling the same
As you
And there's no safty
That you and he
Will make peace
After having argued
But that is how
Life's supposed to be...
So this stranger and I
Only managed to function
As a team
Since we were working
On an assignment
Two lost boys
Looking for the college
And then we both know
That we won't meet again...*
Mar 26, 2016
Mar 26, 2016 at 10:11 AM UTC
it comes
when you're reading one of those books
written by pseudo intellectuals buried
in their despondent lookout on life
comes when
They're writing on human's self-sabotaging nature,
when they're peeling
layers off and off, revealing the
truth of ourself like they're
gods,
Hermes the messenger, or angels, Michael,
bringing to us thoughts we'd never have grown organically
that's what they believe,
what they tell themselves as they prune their feathers with pride
as they impregnate you with the god honest truth
and how did you live before knowing this?
it's been with you all along, kicking and breathing and pushing
you just didn't know it, yet,
but now you can as
they preach their outlooks like it's a message that
changes everything, that your life will implode as your mind
wakes itself up -
they try to baptize you
gripping your throat with their
carpel tunnel fingers, reading glasses
slipping down their noses as they lean over
you, watching their words pour into
you, their victims' throat, as they will it
and all the while they blame
you, because:
Humans make themselves miserable
They write
They bury themselves in all they hate and
choose to burn all they love until
they're alone and self-loathing and scarred
unrecognizable
They write
Of our hatred for humanity
for every single individual that surrounds us and
How we surround ourselves with them
with crowded supermarkets and lanes of traffic because
they fuel our suffering and
That's all we crave
They write
On our thirst for blood
our lust for **** ****** war on
How our society is fueled by violence and how
we bathe in it with a grin
stretched across dry bleeding lips
sharp teeth that rip through our neighbors' flesh
with delight
They write
that we're alone in suffering and surrounded by hate and
we're wild animals driven to war
out of boredom and
That's human nature in a nutshell
That's the truth revealed
nasty, gritty, honest
They write
and that's when
it comes, that gnawing in the
pit of your stomach, that
scratching in the back of your mind
that claws its way
down into your throat where it
squeezes
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 2:28 PM UTC
Jesus Christ;
Faith and peace,
Selflessness and purity,
Understanding and gentle.
Beautiful in soul non judgemental,
All wrapped up in love.
In a nutshell
He Looks like
Love.
Jul 2, 2016
Jul 2, 2016 at 12:40 PM UTC
I sat in a room full of people today
I didn't or barely knew at all
I sat there the whole time thinking, wondering,
Staring blankly at the wall
I jotted down a few notes here and there,
Mostly nonsense with no real purpose,
Now here is the interesting part my dear,
Someone else sat there, you've got three guesses
It wasn't Ronald of the McDonald
Or Mickey Mouse of the club house
One more guess, Oh! You've got it,
It was a couple, the very one I wrote about
My god, were they ever happy
I ******* envied them, hated their smiles
It made me sick to my stomach to watch them laugh
And I had to watch them for a long while
You may wonder what made me so angry?
Well I suppose I forgot to mention,
My boyfriend was also present in the room
But instead of happy all we felt was tension
An old routine I'm quite sick of
But the only reason for it is me
Knowing this while watching them
Well, it was plain misery
Oh lets play one more guessing game!
Come on, can you guess what I'll do next?
Well I'm going over to my boyfriends house
And I'm going to talk, talk, talk off his head
Wish me luck, I hope this goes well...
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 8:16 PM UTC
"I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself king of infinite space,
were it not I had bad dreams."
Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 9:04 AM UTC
You know the worst thing about agoraphobia?
Everyone always knows where the **** you are!
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 1:13 PM UTC
I want to be the me that I wanted to be when I was a kid who dreamed of being the me that I’ll be when I turn 70
I want to be a race car, a ******* rush; I want to be a daredevil on both
I want to be a tight-rope circus act, and tread daily on loose strings with firm feet and handstands
I want to be a shaman with normal senses, instead of a normal person with shamanistic pretenses
I want to look what I saw, I want to listen what I heard, I want to speak what I said with absolute, immaculate, immovable conviction
I want to be like Jim Morrison, and sail to the moon on a crystal ship
I want to be 25% pessimistic, 25% optimistic, 50% opportunistic surrealist
I want to be an Anti-Christ neutral anarchist, and go on a nihilistic bowling spree
I want to be like Jeff Lebowski
I want to be an unintentionally over-achieving burnout who’s proud of his very human frailties
I want to be my own version of Salvador Dali’s first drafts, Allen Ginsberg’s papers and Jack Kerouac’s path
I want to write serenades about melted ice-cream, burnt sausages…and similar tragedies
I want to be a comedic prophet with bad timing; I want to laugh at a funeral-my own funeral
I want to be a suicide note; an obituary that says, **** Condolences! I’m dead. Now, just let me be’
And although, I’m not half the things I said I wanted to be,
I’m an ancient nutshell with reinforced-concrete casing and recent cracks that show the me that I am right now,
I’m an educated, at most times mostly illiterate kind of bloke
I’m a six feet tall hormonal speck of snowflake on snow
I’m a growing ukulele, dreaming of bursting out an improvised, deafening, soul scathing Electric guitar solo, on an amp that goes up to 11!
I’m a short-tempered, soft-spoken, heavy-breathing embodiment of all I’ve wanted to be and the things I’ll never be
But right now, I am the me, that I want to be
And all the other ‘me’s would be proud if they could see me.
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 11:17 AM UTC