"pining" poems
My Teenage years;
Teenage years with people saying 'sit down and shut up'
Teenage years with no one caring
Teenage years with physical abuse
Teenage years with razor blades
Teenage years with no mother
Teenage years with bottles of pills
Teenage years with ****** assualt
Teenage years with suicide attempts
Teenage years with no reason to live
Teenage years spent pining for what was lost.
© Copyright Tyler Atherton
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 6:34 AM UTC
I'm tired of taking off my own belt
I'm tired of feeling what I've felt
I'm tired of giving up so easy
I'm tired of no one trying to see me
I'm tired of complaining and whining
I'm tired of the wanting and pining
I'm tired of sleeping all alone
I'm tired of staying at home
I'm tired of listening my thoughts
I'm tired of everything I've got
I'm tired of staring on the mirror
I'm tired of trying to wipe it clear
I'm tired of silent, early mornings
I'm tired of romantically mourning
I'm tired of my ever-drying lips
I'm tired of my calloused fingertips
I'm tired of listening to happy people
I'm tired of being frail and feeble
I'm tired of being alone
I'm tired of being alone
Dec 22, 2015
Dec 22, 2015 at 9:49 PM UTC
They're huddled 'round their periodic lunch tables,
square and socially pyramidal,
and I'm at the bottom.
But they're just fluorine factions,
bullies at heart trying to steal my e-lectricity
with their negativity.
Because I'm light,
Ultra-violet violence to the eyes,
Magnesium burning.
Anti-matter meets matter.
And that catalytic, cataclysmic energy is attractive.
And they see me. They see, see, see,
But I've got too many Cs on this side of my false, metallic personality.
I'd better balance myself
Or I'm not getting a good reaction.
Classic ionic, ironic idiocy.
I've bonded with you,
just compounding the issues.
'Cause you're a complete acetate without a solution:
now all I've got are problems.
Dot Diagrams are dotted lines separating you from me,
because over the years what was a bond
became a partially negative charge
against me.
I was your oxygen, and you were carbon
-ated, bubbly and explosive.
We would Combust.
But now all's left but to see, oh, two
of your new girlfriends flanking your sides,
'cause we've decomposed, split, gone off to better things.
Monatomic monotones lace my speech,
and I'm pining for something to complete this emp-d shell
that is myself.
'Cause I miss what we had.
We had chemistry.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 5:52 PM UTC
Wistful lust and melancholy mangoes
Succulent decadence and still I am morose
A plum for pining, a kiwi for whining
Pineapple dreams are the clouds’ only lining
For in the resting realm the reality is nigh
Alas cruel consciousness eradicates the high
And thrown am I back into awareness
That life and love are not games of fairness
Oct 31, 2011
Oct 31, 2011 at 4:01 PM UTC
#(a travelogue)
He stared down through
the unbroken silence
lapping the shoreline
Water skippers dart around
the rocks and windfall driftwood
settled juxtaposed in cattail reeds
and emerging broadleaf sprouts
A petrified heartwood timber
lie fallow waiting bare barked,
hushed like a pining lover’s
timeworn love seat,
rubbed smooth as
the crystalline waters
of half-moon lake
Lingering for a while ―
like a hidden stalker,
a perched wildcat waiting
for the full moon’s
swooning spell to saturate
the thickening dusk quietude;
arousing the urgent
call of the wild —
exhaled from the held breath
of the wilderness nocturne
on half-moon lake
The stillness was scattered
with the soft downy hairs
of the sleeping cattails, and
the newly shed catkins
a spring gust bestrewed
from a tall resin birch tree
nigh the Sitka willows
He sat quietly ...
time out of mind ―
tossing his eyes up into the sky;
taking the time to read the stars ―
catching them each again
as they fell into his gentle hands,
to show him who he was
Seeing their sparkly tracers
trail-out above the cattails,
from a distance
they resembled falling stars
unable to perceive their own renaissance ―
plashing lightly upon the still-water
on half-moon lake
A lone shadow glides stealthily
near mid-tarn,.. swimming
enchantingly with the grace
of a blackswan
Appearing to glance shoreward
at the glowing low stars
rise and fall, as his eyes
twinkled skyward over
the moonlit lagoon ―
heavenward of its moonlit ballet;
the lone sleek dark shadow
slipping through
a faint circular ripple
stirring the smooth as glass waters ―
disappearing like a fleeting moment
waning deep aneath
a subtle silent wake.
When all the clear lines blurred,
he knew it had been so long ...
but hearken !
… an interceding
long drawn out wail
echoed a feral ache
across the stillness,
breaking the silence ―
as the shadow reappeared;
his tears surrendered
to the undulating call of the wild;
he felt the spirit of the sole Loon,
as black and white
as the moonlit night,
stir deeply in his wanting heart ―
lay bare the silence
in lengthy yodeled psalms
to the god of the moon
Diving down deep yet again,
keeping the light he’d been given,
vanishing into the lifespring
sanctuary of half-moon lake
harlon rivers ... May 2018
travelogue: 4 of some more
May 21, 2018
May 21, 2018 at 2:36 PM UTC
dear girl,
i would like to apologize on behalf
of those that will never.
the world lied to you
since you were old enough
to balance a book
to listen, retain,
consume without question
i would like to apologize on behalf
of those that informed you
your value is calculated
by the sum of your parts
that you are worth the contrast of fat deposits
over the angles of fragile bones
i would like to apologize on behalf
of those pining characters they wrote you,
every soul with a haunting disposition
who was given the noble ambition
to invoke longing within those
that remain on the outside
of the glass
because the songs that were sung on the radio
cast you as the the inspiration
but when they painted you lips for love
they denied you the language of narration
and you lived your life thinking
you could invoke magic
if you were only willing
to wait your entire life
for someone else to conjure it
i am sorry
that we filled your head
with empty adjectives
to whisper in your ear
that you were nothing
unless validated by the eyes of strangers
seeing you as nothing more
than a commodity
for which to window shop
and consume
and when they abandoned their casual browsing
their wants transcended your right
to exist
and it was you
they chose to invade
to tear open
because after all,
you were man made
a nail scratching a rib
a void to fill up
with whatever poison they thought you’d look sexier
choking on
dear girl,
i would like to apologize on behalf
of the fact that you remain unnamed,
an improper noun
a caricature,
a statistic,
a silhouette on the back window
mouth a perfect oh
that will never know words
i am sorry that the second
you entered the world with two X’s
they would reduce you
to an exquisite tragedy,
place them over your eyes
and declare that the death of a beautiful woman
is the most poetic thing in the world
i would like to apologize
because this world was never
quite big enough to hold you
and we knew
and we saw
and we opened our mouths,
took a breath,
and we closed them
Jul 24, 2016
Jul 24, 2016 at 3:28 AM UTC
When the dice are thrown
one can only hope for a chance
I was sad, almost dead inside
when you suddenly came in,
I raised my head, in the darkness
still in disbelief,
and saw your eyes sparkling
do I imagine , or has this gleam been hidden
from my pining heart by some strange design?
I was about to grab my things
and vanish in the cold darkness
you wouldn't have seen me ever after;
life could be heartless, cold, even when
it seems to be smiling like full moon,
I had learned this, in my days of love lessons
But through the corner of my open window
I saw the sky was so blue and smiling
the fluffy white clouds, like sheep in a pasture
were playful, they did their best, to cheer me a bit,
brought me hope that something will change everything,
you would even decide to see me one last time
before everything go up in smoke.
Then, you walked in,
the scent of a freshly bloomed flower
sought my hand to dance with her
I still wasn't sure what it did signify
but the sparkle of your eyes, said it all
they arrested me, I did surrender
wasn't that what I yearned all this while ?
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 9:22 AM UTC
The perfect night,
Full of light, not flight--
With dreams of olives!
(And feta in our sights!)
The drinks,
The dancing,
Rock n' Roll--
Naked Munchkin fantasy
Stole my soul!
I miss you my sweets,
It's been too long a week.
I'm pining for Cookout,
Divergent, and Wednesdays wearing Pink.
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 1:59 AM UTC
Kissing you was like swallowing
the salty, salty sea:
I have corals for ribs,
and seaweed limbs;
my bones are ship-wreck saves
and wishful pennies.
My heart is a sea-shell:
if you put your ear to it,
you’ll hear me screaming, shouting,
pining
for you.
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 6:04 PM UTC
We can only afford to contain our fires
Turning to... Soothsaying waters
Soothsaying rain, empty out your bottles
Irrigate from our heart puddles
Let flow into a singular well
An oasis where our hearts would kiss and silently tell
Submerge us as one being
The water milling and licking
Kissing our warm skins
Wash away as it purges and cleans
Cleansing waters, wash and give birth
Rid of the sadness to reveal the earth
Of this earth, you and I are one
Looking up to idolise the same sun
Wedged between... This expanse of redundant land
Pining for the mixing of our sands
We... We are made of the same
Earth, dirt and gravel placed in different games
Bearing similar stones that beat
Beating away the seconds that flit
Earth biding time... Stay on ground
Let wind take your souls to realms unbound
Casting our souls into the wind
Carved hearts on flags we pinned
Kites of love set to catch the air
Wind be kind... Carry us easy with care
Gift us your gentle airy fingers
As you would the sails of hopeful seafarers
Together we would dance and billow
Frolic upon your light feathered pillow
Ride the wind, on wings that never tire
Tiny bites that keep us afire
Never needing a flint to set alive the flame
Stoking the fire that burns on the same
Rhymes and reasons be our fuel
Combat logic and sense in a cerebral duel
Fight in our eyes, subdued are the blazes
Embers dormant behind glassy tearful gazes
Spark them to life with passionate heat
Fan them to rage till the time our hearts meet
But still... We must contain our fires
With nothing but soothsaying waters
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 12:49 AM UTC
Light cresting the horizon, she reveals herself to me.
Her brilliant beauty shining, enlightening me is the Sun.
Leaving me blind eyes for it's long since I've seen the light.
As my sight returns, I see a smile upon her glowing face.
Happiness and warmth shines through, but also sadness.
Such a cavernous sorrow only matched by mine.
She speaks to me of a wish to be with the Moon once more.
Like when the land was warm and both did linger in the sky.
A brisk winter wind now engulfs the Sun.
Yet still she shines beautiful life, given to all that behold her.
I have felt her kind light on me, and I have come to cherish the feel.
Memories of my unending midnight that left me cold and bleak, evaporated;
replaced with joy, for returned have the young embers of feelings.
With the presence of the Sun I have been brought back to life.
And I wish to covet her, like the day does the light.
I whisper a wish, a pining desire to share that heavenly grace with the Sun.
But I may only behold her poetic wonder with my eyes I fear.
Far to deep is her flame, which I still yearn after.
Trudging forth is a feeling of looming disaster,
for her thirst is of the Moon's accompaniment alone.
Who am I to stand between the Sun and Moon? Gods in the sky.
For I do not reside above the clouds; I am but a mere observer far below.
Enchanted by the mellow glide through the heavens that they shared.
The Moon should feel her kind sunshine upon his face again.
He knows little of the night that I have hid in for ages repeated,
for he is not charged to linger in darkness for all eternity, like I.
A reluctance I feel to accept the truth, but I may not escape it.
Though, should my heart be tamed? Which is so full of longing.
Ages have passed since my bones have felt this empowering warmth.
I find my mind imagining, dreaming, wandering;
into a place it's far too long since felt any comfort in.
Only to be brought back to the present by the warmth of her smile,
a glance from her beautiful piercing eyes, to hark of her divine laughter.
Remembering that happiness is felt in the presence of a flower,
yet to pluck it for ones self, would begin an end to its beauty.
Whatever may be the desire of the Sun, I share for her too.
For she has shown me life like I've forgotten was possible.
A gift of the like that I could never return with all of my days.
A lost soul in lingering affection of a star, to be looked upon as a fool.
Though a fool for attempting, rather a fool for abstaining.
So return to the dark I will, awaiting in hope for my day to come.
The day that the Sun should like to illuminate me again, and fill my soul with warmth.
Yet I am terrified that day will never arrive for me,
for I've known not but this tragic desolation that has consumed my heart.
Until I met the Sun.
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 1:34 PM UTC
The shallow nature of your wit
Leaves me pining for more-
But woe to me!
This well is ever dry.
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 3:12 AM UTC
Arms outstretched like the branches of a tree
Aspiring to be amidst with those borne of sky.
Gnarly bark, imploring the eyes of another
Weathered and worn... Skin and grain but parched dry.
Twig-like fingers that would bear no leaves.
With open barren palms that hover in the wind.
Longing and thirsty for the tears of rain
Pining for the heavens to wash away all they have sinned.
Spreading disjointed roots dig in,
In touch with the unseen core buried deep.
A tainted trove of lifelong poisons...
They greedily drink and keep.
Lone little trunk... That shoots up strong from ground.
Sturdy and hale, at least to the naked eye.
When in fact it's core is rotting within,
Eaten away by the worm of a single unassuming lie.
Sad fruitless tree...
Standing amidst the green thriving brush.
It dies with the hours baked in sun...
One day it'll fall, consumed by the secrets trapped in a silent little hush...
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 10:09 AM UTC
Are we all fake?
Are we all getting baked?
Are we all looking?
Are we all searching?
For a simple solution
To shake the focus from this illusion
Finally looking up to the sky
Stars shining and twinkling in your eyes
Or is it just the glare
Pining over your cell phone in despair
Comparing yourself to others
Moments that look like perfection
Also lead us in a misdirection
Down a path of self doubt
All because of some dude's clout
Putting the most in every post
To answer all the above questions
We be searching for the real
And be looking to get baked ;)
At least that's this ****** dude's opinion
Jul 10, 2022
Jul 10, 2022 at 1:02 PM UTC
Unwillingly Miranda wakes,
Feels the sun with terror,
One unwilling step she takes,
Shuddering to the mirror.
Miranda in Miranda's sight
Is old and gray and *****
Twenty-nine she was last night;
This morning she is thirty.
Shining like the morning star,
Like the twilight shining,
Haunted by a calendar,
Miranda is a-pining.
Silly girl, silver girl,
Draw the mirror toward you;
Time who makes the years to whirl
Adorned as he adored you.
Time is timelessness for you;
Calendars for the human;
What's a year, or thirty, to
Loveliness made woman?
Oh, Night will not see thirty again,
Yet soft her wing, Miranda;
Pick up your glass and tell me, then--
How old is Spring, Miranda?
4.1k
In a Skype chat room
Topic : I Like Haiku's
**************
Me--- (LadyBird)
Haiku's I do like
for they are so easily
written in three worded lines
Friend--(TonyS)
Writing in Haiku
forces me to think about,
what is important
Me--- (LadyBird)
indeed you are right
writing them is important
and can be therapeutic
would you mind if I
add your words in my Haiku
giving you credit ?
this conversation
we are in is very fun
what are you thinking?
Friend--(TonyS)
I find great solace
in the idea that my words
are that important!
I have no problem
with allowing you to use
my simple verses!
Pining for someone
who I love very dearly
takes most of my time.
Me--- (LadyBird)
awesome Thank you so
much; I really enjoy this
writing is a passion
as you can see I
enjoy the flow of my words
and all that inspire
you are so kind I
will for sure keep an eye on
your wonderful wods
thank you very much
hoping I was no bother
to you my dear friend
I try to keep my
pen with me jotting down all
my thoughts from within
it is so nice to
meet someone that shares the same
passion for writing
please do keep in touch
I will for sure stay in touch
with you my dear friend
Friend--(TonyS)
The pleasure is mine!
To meet a friend is always
an enriching thing.
My name is Tony!
It is always nice to meet
new internet friends!
Me--- (LadyBird)
your name is so cool
it is indeed very nice
to make a new friend
it is so funny
I knew your name was Tony
from your user name
this is the most fun
I have had in three long days
I do enjoy it
Haiku-ing is like
text-ing with out a cell phone
it is fun indeed
Friend--(TonyS)
The pleasure is mine!
To meet a friend is always
an enriching thing.
Me--- (LadyBird)
I find great solace
to know that you share the same
interest as I do
Friend--(TonyS)
Names are only words,
I am nice because I am
who I want to be.
I am Tony Stark,
at least in my heart and mind.
Money? Not so much.
It was a pleasure,
this banter being quite fun,
maybe again soon?
Me--- (LadyBird)
Wow that sounds so cool
Tony Stark is so good looking
very good actor
names are only words
they don't describe who we are
inside is what count
thank you for talking
to me my friend it was fun
indeed again soon
gonna end convo
nice chatting with you my friend
now I say goodbye
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 3:31 PM UTC
When the phone's at home
I'm a dog
Without his bark-collar on;
Off the leash,
Off the property,
Snapping at gulls
On the beach.
I'm digging up old bones,
Lifting a leg,
Barking and chasing
What crosses my path.
Back at home
I loose my dog brain;
I'm tethered and yanked
By a cellular line.
The yelping,
And begging
Have me pining
For the freedom of
My inner canine.
Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 7:10 PM UTC
The Pen
The pick up the pen;
The put it down again
(That sunken feeling, nemesis or friend?)
The pen. The Pen.
The pacing, the pressing up against
The period. Stop stopping
Again. Pick it up to put it down.
Pointless. Pshaw.
Please.
Please me simplicity. C’mon!
C’mon pen lemme pick it up
And put something down.
I’ll plagiarize the flow for a few words of my own.
I’m looking for inspiration from the great beyond.
My muse is missing.
I know the medium is a constraint.
I know inside
The set of symbols paints
Me into a corner. The parameters
Of my pen’s head worn out. I’m ****** The metaphors
Pressed. The pen is second-guessed.
A literate piece of poetic license,
The defense mechanism
Against the prison I impose.
Me, myself, and I inside
The pen pining for a purpose.
The nexus of picking it up and putting it down
Is perplexing me, is vexing
Me like a sticky keyboard key.
So, I’m putting it all down
With the pen.
The pen.
The picking it up: who cares?
The putting it down: pensive prohibition.
The picking up; what I left out.
The putting it down: polygraph precision.
The picking up where I left off:
The putting it down: priority, what’s left of me.
The picking it up, when I don’t even know
Why I bother?
The putting it down: passion
The putting it down: plea of let me be.
The putting it down periscope; I’m diving under
The pressure’s mounting; I’m down for the counting on my muse
To bring me back
From that inky black abyss once again
My personal sonar is
Probing the depths, of what lies
hidden within
the pen.
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 7:46 AM UTC
in the ***** of the silver waves
grew a single water lily
speckless and spotless
the colour of pure milk
a private bud, it lay unopened
till the night it blossomed
complete, open, a whorl of whiteness!
exquisite in its secluded state
it pondered sadly on its fate
alone –
awash with an awful ache
it looked upwards towards the great black lake
so much similar to its own address
with just one exception that made the biggest difference
like a mirror leading on to a parallel universe
another swirl of bright white flowered
not alone but surrounded
by many young buds!
how wonderful thought the lily
how cheerful that bloom must be
to live thus accompanied by family
so pining it withered
feeling unloved, unwanted
never knowing that from above
the moon watched wailing
“how full of life was that lovely flower
alas! alas! how I loved her!
never could I have the courage to tell her
she - a brightness lit from within
and i a mere rock
with no light of my own”
- Vijayalakshmi Harish
25.01.2013
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 5:29 AM UTC
Pine needles
Pine cones
Pine floorboards and beds,
Pining for a lover can make you lose your head.
Pine tar for turpentine,
Pine nuts to chew,
Pining for years long gone,
And a tango prance for two.
Pine woods deep and long,
Crisp kindling underfoot,
The compost here is lush and dark,
And bright insects crawl the root.
A drizzling breeze through pines is calming,
With rain clouds moist and full.
Yet headwinds of grey-orange smoke,
Make nineteen men the toll.
For when the pines are exploding,
And the Yarnell fire burns through,
Who but the stones will be here mourning,
A green love so fresh and true?
Jul 23, 2013
Jul 23, 2013 at 7:14 PM UTC
Innocence lost and forgotten
Innocence did it exist once?
Innocence such a weird concept
A childhood of sit down and shut up
A childhood of being ignored
A childhood of ‘im not here to take care of you’
A childhood of taking care of herself
Teenage years with no mother
Teenage years with ****
Teenage years with suicide attempts
Teenage years spent pining for what was lost.
Every child dreams of being independant
Every child dreams of the day their parents leave
Every child wants freedom
Until
Until its in your fate
Until your alone
Until you have to figure things out
Until its 3A.M and you're crying
Until you fantasize about yelling matches
Until then you dont know what freedom costs
Jun 25, 2018
Jun 25, 2018 at 5:15 AM UTC
all of
America’s
gubmint hatin
yahoos, pining
to get their
country back,
should grab
yer rifles, stock
up on ammo
and giddy up
down to Texas
to join the
secessionists
headin out
of the Union
Rick Perry
promises to
keep his promise
to close all the
gubmint departments
he can't remember
the names of
Ron Paul will
finally be liberated
from the tyranny
of his federal
paycheck and
can return to
his district to
practice medicine
unencumbered
by the acceptance
of medicare
payments
Ted Cruz will
move to coronate
his Cuban born
daddy as Viceroy
for life of the
western hemispheres
newest banana
republic
the last act of
of the Compartment
of Education will be
to turn every
public school
into a Holy Ghostin
Jehovah meetin
house
Judicial magistrates
will criminalize
poor people
or just make
them slaves
and all prisons
will be turned
into profit driven
plantations,
overseen by
the local
Sheriffs who
will be paid
time and a
half and 15%
of all profits
unfortunately
the Cowboy’s
will lose it’s
moniker as
America’s Team
if rattlesnake
booted
Jerry Jones
can’t make a
deal to turn
his stadium
into a sovereign
independent
territory as a
protectorate
of the USA
To assure
national purity
Texans will
build a Jericho
style wall to
define the boundaries
of their heavenly
kingdom and outlaw
all trumpet playing
within earshot
of their perturbed
borders
The Eyes of
Texas as the
state anthem
will need to
be reworded
The final stanza
will be changed
to "Until Gabriel
blows his nose"
keepin the ungodly
out and the chosen
people safely
insulated within
the shining
Lone Star State
will rise again
as a solitary
confederacy
of dunces
Music Selection:
The Eyes of Texas
Oakland
11/18/13
jbm
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 12:25 AM UTC