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"pensiveness" poems
who will read aloud my poems when I'm gone? that old unfriended thot, a nagging merry query was for awhile forgot, put on the back of an upper shelf, where dust motes and mites fear to trend thoughts, that I thought I had dispensed with, letting time build illusionary wry walls, fooling World Trade Center tall morose forlorn, pensiveness of red ant armies, incapable of black marker redaction, there is always one a lingering malingerer a sole fado singer, playing woeful jazz in the Quarter on an empty emoty street, dressed and guised as the soul of a solitary cancerous cell "survivor" cur overlooked, biding time, the surgeons gone, the drugs flushed, radiation burning no more begins then the unholy trilogy cycle worn out, overused... invasive categorically relentless maybes, what ifs, then oh goddamnnotagain because believed, on knee, I oathed that loathed, raven nevermore, ought that cracked door would be open yet like the New Orleans levee aged locks hurricane succumbed overflowed, overcome, keyholed, infiltrated, falllen to the enemy, mes enfilade, rumps up the black flag of surrender brain sneers periodically, like every other minute, ok, second, coyly asking penny for your worthless thoughts? just when you believed "no mas" was a prayer that had been heard, teeth kicked in, body snatching hordes and boors bad boys and ****** sitting high in the saddle again, grinning torturous tarty smiles at who, at you, fool! you're as alone in that place as insufficiently as that impoverished overused word can ere convey the nagging realization that when asking no one answers when your thinkings perish you your cutesy sweatshirt reads last standing poet alive, stabbed ded by awful-truths, you failed and all the black cats, have fled the neighborhood, just when need was greatest who will read aloud my poems when I'm gone, has been silently answered by silent applause, the last theater goer shuffles out, and turns and extends his middle finger his review leaves a singular impression, he looks familiar, gauntly ghost, he has accompanied me always and his finger is his triumphal parting shot
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Aug 15, 2014
Aug 15, 2014 at 5:25 PM UTC
who will read aloud my poems when I'm gone?
who will read aloud my poems when I'm gone? that old unfriended thot, a nagging merry query was for awhile forgot, put on the back of an upper shelf, where dust motes and mites fear to trend thoughts, that I thought I had dispensed with, letting time build illusionary wry walls, fooling World Trade Center tall morose forlorn, pensiveness of red ant armies, incapable of black marker redaction, there is always one a lingering malingerer a sole fado singer, playing woeful jazz in the Quarter on an empty emoty street, dressed and guised as the soul of a solitary cancerous cell "survivor" cur overlooked, biding time, the surgeons gone, the drugs flushed, radiation burning no more begins then the unholy trilogy cycle worn out, overused... invasive categorically relentless maybes, what ifs, then oh goddamnnotagain because believed, on knee, I oathed that loathed, raven nevermore, ought that cracked door would be open yet like the New Orleans levee aged locks hurricane succumbed overflowed, overcome, keyholed, infiltrated, falllen to the enemy, mes enfilade, rumps up the black flag of surrender brain sneers periodically, like every other minute, ok, second, coyly asking penny for your worthless thoughts? just when you believed "no mas" was a prayer that had been heard, teeth kicked in, body snatching hordes and boors bad boys and ****** sitting high in the saddle again, grinning torturous tarty smiles at who, at you, fool! you're as alone in that place as insufficiently as that impoverished overused word can ere convey the nagging realization that when asking no one answers when your thinkings perish you your cutesy sweatshirt reads last standing poet alive, stabbed ded by awful-truths, you failed and all the black cats, have fled the neighborhood, just when need was greatest who will read aloud my poems when I'm gone, has been silently answered by silent applause, the last theater goer shuffles out, and turns and extends his middle finger his review leaves a singular impression, he looks familiar, gauntly ghost, he has accompanied me always and his finger is his triumphal parting shot
Continue reading...
111
What a breath of fresh air Seeing you once again Your company is always welcome So good to befriend you love I sure can use your comfort Your elegant, powerhouse vibe Quenches my lonely soul I am in need of you Its been such a long time Since our dear minds floated In a milieu of ignited joy I have combed the vicinity From the periphery of the night Til the nascency of the sun Close by and far about, To cross your seraphic path Once again, here we are... So come take a walk with me Let us prance along the lake Dash through spring's leaves Exalting each other's presence Let us dance in airborne circles Together, as inseparable canaries My thoughts of you With that celestial killer smile Your dazzling eyes of pensiveness That touch of sweet caress Is strongly needed in my life Spending time with you Is truly like no other My adulation for you Is passionately unspoken This pash I have for you Has kindled as we bonded There is honestly no way I'm letting you go No more, never again So take my hand Slowly spin with me Into love's unknown Together forever. ©Michael P. Smith
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Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 4:03 AM UTC
Yearn
it's the caffeine making dark crescents undereye not some divine enlightenment (there might be a dash of soul-searching though) low, glazed limbs are frozen still a frosted flurry of flakes falls relieving my concentration returning me to the road to the pale glow of white snow silhouetting the bare oak grove hefty adumbrations emerging charcoal on unblemished canvas "Harden your heart, grow up" "Harden your heart, grow up" I repeat over and over click I get a different result Real insanity would be conversing to myself, not chanting: pshaw! My insides now cold as ice open windows, abrasive breeze I don't have a seat warmer don't need one when everything's the same temp I've hardened my heart, my groovy slouch recedes jaw set and stiffened Sufjan and Novo Amor siphoning my hope tears become stalactites "I have loved you for the last time" pulling me back into colorless pensiveness matching the steadfast sentinels blurring by
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Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 11:00 PM UTC
Black Were the Trees, White Were the Flakes; Black Were the Thoughts, Blank Were the Results
Before I swem in subdued clarity I cried in hollow nights you were a product of my woes misunderstood on a daily basis attracted anxiety to my smiles feelings got messy like a home filled with nostalgic happy you were bitter, and I was sweet together we built pensiveness.
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Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 8:03 AM UTC
Am I at home?
May be someone has built a house At the frontier of my heart! Since somedays , slipping through my fingers I have lost the sleepy night! The roar sound of a child is being heard. Amongs the pensiveness of my mind There are certain sufferings Of delivering a child! Albeit it is unseen, It is true. For having the heart of humanbeing The stirring words are REVOLT And devoted themselve into deeper meaning of POETRY. Belike ! The prolong pang is to be end! Or perhaps ! The ***** dream of flying By the chariot of literary addiction has to fulfilled! কবিতাৰ শিৰোনাম: মাতাল সপোন হৃদয়ৰ পাদদেশত হয়তো কোনোবাই ঘৰ সাজিছে যোৱা কেবাদিনৰ পৰাই টোপনি হেৰাইছে। শিশুৰ বিকট চিঞৰ কাণত পৰিছে উদ্বাউল মনত প্রসৱৰ বেদনা ধৰা পৰিছে। চকুৰে নমনিলেওঁ এয়া সত্য। মানৱ হৃদয় থকা বাবেই ক্ষুব্ধ শব্দই স্বাধীনতা বিচাৰিছে কবিতাৰ অর্থত নিজকে সঁপি দিছে। কিজানিবা অন্ত পৰেই দীর্ঘ বেদনাৰ আৰু পূর্ণ হয় সাহিত্যৰ ৰথত উৰি ফুৰাৰ মাতাল সপোন!!
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Dec 12, 2017
Dec 12, 2017 at 10:17 AM UTC
***** Dream
Nineteen years of love Oh, the things it does Love is truly never enough Nineteen years of trust And so many times on the crust With someone you so entrust Nineteen years of hope Two ends of a rope Two ends with lots of hope Nineteen years of Gratitude And coping with attitude Only very little solitude Nineteen years of Passion Lots of imagination And a lot of attraction Nineteen years of Admiration, Devastation And true love’s manifestation Nineteen years of Confidence So much in appearance Only because people think in terms of Business Nineteen years of Caring So much daring One end goal, Pairing Nineteen years of Fascination And Elation And permanent infatuation Nineteen years of Joy Yes, they do annoy But at last both do enjoy Nineteen years of Laughter Couldn’t have gotten here without anger Love, That started with a banger Nineteen years of Empathy There has been so much Sympathy But, It was destiny Nineteen years of determination And so much of a situation Lots and lots of adulation Nineteen years of Serenity After many trips to extremity Sometimes accidentally Nineteen years of anticipation Only because of the generation Fearful of separation Nineteen years of Magic Anger, so tragic And fear and panic Nineteen years of Dreaming While only hoping that you were pleading To understand the only meaning Nineteen years of Pensiveness After much aggressiveness A little possessiveness Nineteen years of Adoration Comes down to communication And Adaptation.
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Sep 18, 2025
Sep 18, 2025 at 8:32 AM UTC
Nineteen Years
Nineteen years of love Oh, the things it does Love is truly never enough Nineteen years of trust And so many times on the crust With someone you so entrust Nineteen years of hope Two ends of a rope Two ends with lots of hope Nineteen years of Gratitude And coping with attitude Only very little solitude Nineteen years of Passion Lots of imagination And a lot of attraction Nineteen years of Admiration, Devastation And true love’s manifestation Nineteen years of Confidence So much in appearance Only because people think in terms of Business Nineteen years of Caring So much daring One end goal, Pairing Nineteen years of Fascination And Elation And permanent infatuation Nineteen years of Joy Yes, they do annoy But at last both do enjoy Nineteen years of Laughter Couldn’t have gotten here without anger Love, That started with a banger Nineteen years of Empathy There has been so much Sympathy But, It was destiny Nineteen years of determination And so much of a situation Lots and lots of adulation Nineteen years of Serenity After many trips to extremity Sometimes accidentally Nineteen years of anticipation Only because of the generation Fearful of separation Nineteen years of Magic Anger, so tragic And fear and panic Nineteen years of Dreaming While only hoping that you were pleading To understand the only meaning Nineteen years of Pensiveness After much aggressiveness A little possessiveness Nineteen years of Adoration Comes down to communication And Adaptation.
Continue reading...
57
Cross the sea, cross the land, ticking bomb stranded ***** totem in an aged biscuit tan. Slit-slash, the sun is an open wound Across the sky that preludes a myriad of boredom's The wind caught their blank faces and froze them Thawless, invincible as a corpse and forever Parading the street. When I was younger I wanted to sit on a rock and watch history go by But now I'm not so optimistic, I'm on the run in a sense Living life on the dime of a lucky sixpence, pensiveness Only seems to waste time. 'You get busy living' they say, 'Or you get busy criming.'
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Sep 9, 2019
Sep 9, 2019 at 3:23 PM UTC
Maroon
You turned away with steely eyes, a man once soft now cold as ice I begged you to stay, yet you refused to think twice Merely another moral vice And it makes me ponder, do you ever even halt to wonder? About who I am or who I will be? Perhaps a century passed with persistent pleas for you, from me All the while you may be found perched upon a stool, cackling like some unconcerned fool Not stopping to wonder who I will be Was I a disastrous debacle, a thing full of promise shot down with a bang? Or excessively erratic, a real toll on your brain? Aid me in answering a few inquisitions, for placid pensiveness pushes me senseless A cryptic enigma I'm trying to solve, however I've all but lost my resolve Won't you answer my inquiries? Aren't you ready to love? Millennia drip by like liquid, decaying I remain inanimate, restless, and waiting Trying to convey the multitude of things you’re not saying Daring to hope that you’re off on your own, curiously thinking About who I will be With a pliant personality, I wear my heart on my sleeve With stubborn egocentricity, you wear yours in no place that can be seen Might this be the reason for our poignant play of events? No matter the reason, the past has been tinted Battered and dented, a life with no sense left
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Oct 27, 2016
Oct 27, 2016 at 11:36 PM UTC
Vexed