"poltroon" poems - Hello Poetry

292 If your Nerve, deny you— Go above your Nerve— He can lean against the Grave, If he fear to swerve— That’s a steady posture— Never any bend Held of those Brass arms— Best Giant made— If your Soul seesaw— Lift the Flesh door— The Poltroon wants Oxygen— Nothing more—

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3.7k

Emily Dickinson

If your Nerve, deny you

292 If your Nerve, deny you— Go above your Nerve— He can lean against the Grave, If he fear to swerve— That’s a steady posture— Never any bend Held of those Brass arms— Best Giant made— If your Soul seesaw— Lift the Flesh door— The Poltroon wants Oxygen— Nothing more—

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The Marshmallows decided to have a top Party Dressed gaily in white, pink, red, green and yellow They mingled and floated around looking arty-farty We're going to dance in town not partying in a garage And guess what, We won't invite Toffee he's not like us Go melt and burn says Toffee with rightful disdain who wants to party with a bunch of soft silly buffoons Overblown and presumptuous you lot melt in the rain Nothing to you all but egging and hot air you poltroon Who wants to dance with mixed up softies with no brains I am Toffee hot and hard and always ready for the bite You can't lick me in a hurry and I take a while to crack I am brown with brawn and brains and ready to fight Got rhythm with the moves, tastes and flavours top whack Not some boring twirls or stumps gathered together tight Come try me if you dare and see me squash you down flat I'll go into you hard your softness yielding like knife on butter Can marsh you with my strength till you're nothing but mellow Or stick to your puffy wooly state and squeeze you still flatter Till you beg and squeal your surrender showing you're shallow I am not like you and don't think, see, look or taste like you I am brown and sweet, hard and chewy and I really don't care For emulsified vain brainless no substance marshmallow tools Who can only be brave and big when all packed together like So go party and kid yourselves softies I don't party with fools

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Sep 5, 2018

Sep 5, 2018 at 8:34 AM UTC

yenson

I'll Marsh You ..

The Marshmallows decided to have a top Party Dressed gaily in white, pink, red, green and yellow They mingled and floated around looking arty-farty We're going to dance in town not partying in a garage And guess what, We won't invite Toffee he's not like us Go melt and burn says Toffee with rightful disdain who wants to party with a bunch of soft silly buffoons Overblown and presumptuous you lot melt in the rain Nothing to you all but egging and hot air you poltroon Who wants to dance with mixed up softies with no brains I am Toffee hot and hard and always ready for the bite You can't lick me in a hurry and I take a while to crack I am brown with brawn and brains and ready to fight Got rhythm with the moves, tastes and flavours top whack Not some boring twirls or stumps gathered together tight Come try me if you dare and see me squash you down flat I'll go into you hard your softness yielding like knife on butter Can marsh you with my strength till you're nothing but mellow Or stick to your puffy wooly state and squeeze you still flatter Till you beg and squeal your surrender showing you're shallow I am not like you and don't think, see, look or taste like you I am brown and sweet, hard and chewy and I really don't care For emulsified vain brainless no substance marshmallow tools Who can only be brave and big when all packed together like So go party and kid yourselves softies I don't party with fools

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" Poltroon " she cried, While her knuckles were white with rage. Perturbed, she was while her father passed away. Solitude, she chose while earthlings left her dejected, like a stray. Erratic, were those times when she decided to unravel the intricate stories of life and not get bewrayed. Lost, she was in the absolute beauty of the cosmos waiting for someone at the bay. Soon, she realized that a lifeboat would never come her way. " You're a stalwart , get up and find your own way ". Much did she know, rest she deciphered. And found herself flying in the sky of aplomb, like a mockinjay! - Swasti Jain

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Feb 18, 2017

Feb 18, 2017 at 1:05 PM UTC

swasti-jain

Intricacies of life

" Poltroon " she cried, While her knuckles were white with rage. Perturbed, she was while her father passed away. Solitude, she chose while earthlings left her dejected, like a stray. Erratic, were those times when she decided to unravel the intricate stories of life and not get bewrayed. Lost, she was in the absolute beauty of the cosmos waiting for someone at the bay. Soon, she realized that a lifeboat would never come her way. " You're a stalwart , get up and find your own way ". Much did she know, rest she deciphered. And found herself flying in the sky of aplomb, like a mockinjay! - Swasti Jain

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Through the laden flights of pot-stewed gulls - Deepening in red rosaries to poltroon, Contaminated by an urgent wish, The sun-soaked merry bandits blew. Each to each, and, mingling with that sweaty palm, Dolorous eyes sad-greeted the fleeing dawn. Pancreas then, the earth-girdled Titan swam, Anon the rising tide to stem. Dentist the night, repair to dance-floored beams, And rising melodiously ever anew to pine, Sweet ***** dreaming of her saw-toothed chemise Saw the fine end to the upstart king. Curtains swayed against my pearly doom Not brightly was your plainting song Palpitating in earthly measures anew Or seeking once more the mighty to appease. O David, in thy glance the silver moth did live Long dawns. An enemy of the swordfish, He menaced us so long. And now? Sporadic is the demise of depth! A silver sea, or rather a sea with a fine multitude of silver points Caressing my eyes like toothless counterpoint to the stately blue. It gave a floor to a weening being of prancing gait and measured thighs. She smiled. And the sea broke and roared, as ever, and I heard it once more. I saw too the sky, which had sufficient blue. Cooled by the sea, warmed by the setting rays and mild air, the body luxuriated in perfect temperature. She did not smile, but perhaps she did.. My body, I mean. We came away, from there, as from all places to meet another need. of darkness and quiet. Foamed the elements of slaking portions of mysterious substance. Surrendered to the moving body without real life. Borne along on a stream of liquid desire residing in another's breast. Relinquishing her to a perfect nothingness like lead or caviare. Oh, and who awaited me? She was imprisoned but beautiful and I thought quite happy. I don't think she even wanted to come to me, or so it seemed. But she was happier too outside, in the waning sun. Mainly she had been safe and free. And there's an end of this day, which roamed whither it would, for I did not attempt to chain it. Now I flee it.

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Apr 7, 2012

Apr 7, 2012 at 3:55 AM UTC

gurthbruins

Blaauberg Beach

Through the laden flights of pot-stewed gulls - Deepening in red rosaries to poltroon, Contaminated by an urgent wish, The sun-soaked merry bandits blew. Each to each, and, mingling with that sweaty palm, Dolorous eyes sad-greeted the fleeing dawn. Pancreas then, the earth-girdled Titan swam, Anon the rising tide to stem. Dentist the night, repair to dance-floored beams, And rising melodiously ever anew to pine, Sweet ***** dreaming of her saw-toothed chemise Saw the fine end to the upstart king. Curtains swayed against my pearly doom Not brightly was your plainting song Palpitating in earthly measures anew Or seeking once more the mighty to appease. O David, in thy glance the silver moth did live Long dawns. An enemy of the swordfish, He menaced us so long. And now? Sporadic is the demise of depth! A silver sea, or rather a sea with a fine multitude of silver points Caressing my eyes like toothless counterpoint to the stately blue. It gave a floor to a weening being of prancing gait and measured thighs. She smiled. And the sea broke and roared, as ever, and I heard it once more. I saw too the sky, which had sufficient blue. Cooled by the sea, warmed by the setting rays and mild air, the body luxuriated in perfect temperature. She did not smile, but perhaps she did.. My body, I mean. We came away, from there, as from all places to meet another need. of darkness and quiet. Foamed the elements of slaking portions of mysterious substance. Surrendered to the moving body without real life. Borne along on a stream of liquid desire residing in another's breast. Relinquishing her to a perfect nothingness like lead or caviare. Oh, and who awaited me? She was imprisoned but beautiful and I thought quite happy. I don't think she even wanted to come to me, or so it seemed. But she was happier too outside, in the waning sun. Mainly she had been safe and free. And there's an end of this day, which roamed whither it would, for I did not attempt to chain it. Now I flee it.

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So pick up the scissors and cut it the **** out! Then take a stick and knock it the **** off. Alright, all done? Are you ready for a conversation consisting of truth? Or does that concept still, somehow, confuse you? For years I've been fighting a battle with the cowardice in you! And now, after all of it, I have more emotional involvement in my shoe. No, scratch that, not in my shoe... Because that dog **** I stepped in last week, has more integrity than you. Fidelity, do you know what that is? Egregious, do you know that word exists? How about 'low life ***** mother fucker'? Oh, meaning got through. Allow me a moment to adjust my vocabulary for you. You're a coward. A snail. A waste of my time and space. A blister, throbbing pustule on the *** of the human race. You have never been loyal. You're robbing me of my youth. The worst part is, I see myself becoming like you. I admire the way you avoid the subject. The method you use to crawl out of the line of fire. Throwing others in front of the bus so you don't hit the tires. That's right, its all their fault, duh. You really think I'm that ******* stupid, huh? Well. **** you.You're a ****** A ******* class A. A dissapointment, A nebbish, A poltroon, A quitter and recreant. Someone I should have never given a second glace. I mean it. I'd be a liar if I didn't admit. I regret the last four years of this **** I'd be ******* stupid to stick around for more of this. I give your life meaning? Purpose? If that's true I hope you're crushed by my indifference.

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May 6, 2013

May 6, 2013 at 9:09 AM UTC

tree-bear

Ode to Hate: Husband

So pick up the scissors and cut it the **** out! Then take a stick and knock it the **** off. Alright, all done? Are you ready for a conversation consisting of truth? Or does that concept still, somehow, confuse you? For years I've been fighting a battle with the cowardice in you! And now, after all of it, I have more emotional involvement in my shoe. No, scratch that, not in my shoe... Because that dog **** I stepped in last week, has more integrity than you. Fidelity, do you know what that is? Egregious, do you know that word exists? How about 'low life ***** mother fucker'? Oh, meaning got through. Allow me a moment to adjust my vocabulary for you. You're a coward. A snail. A waste of my time and space. A blister, throbbing pustule on the *** of the human race. You have never been loyal. You're robbing me of my youth. The worst part is, I see myself becoming like you. I admire the way you avoid the subject. The method you use to crawl out of the line of fire. Throwing others in front of the bus so you don't hit the tires. That's right, its all their fault, duh. You really think I'm that ******* stupid, huh? Well. **** you.You're a ****** A ******* class A. A dissapointment, A nebbish, A poltroon, A quitter and recreant. Someone I should have never given a second glace. I mean it. I'd be a liar if I didn't admit. I regret the last four years of this **** I'd be ******* stupid to stick around for more of this. I give your life meaning? Purpose? If that's true I hope you're crushed by my indifference.

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I bet folks just don't like me: Ryan Rivière: hey, kid. DM me if you’d like to lose in either a wit war or an academic war. ready when you are. Ryan Rivière › take head Lacks a clear (but a poltroon-like optimism) principality of the nature of nature: nature itself is a bully (take note of the many catastrophic events incurred) and one might argue to the degree which humans are actually less of a bully when personified against nature. Woody: A caw- ing bird with blunt -ed beak and clip- ped wings that can’t fly or sing worth a lick -ety split always pick- ing and peck -ing a-way at the best chirp- ing inside a chest -full of beat- ing Blue -birds' heart- felt art -tistic songs in- stead of sing -ing along think- ing it knows better than - the rest?

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Jun 30, 2018

Jun 30, 2018 at 1:42 AM UTC

trs

It's like being a being who makes folks smart

I bet folks just don't like me: Ryan Rivière: hey, kid. DM me if you’d like to lose in either a wit war or an academic war. ready when you are. Ryan Rivière › take head Lacks a clear (but a poltroon-like optimism) principality of the nature of nature: nature itself is a bully (take note of the many catastrophic events incurred) and one might argue to the degree which humans are actually less of a bully when personified against nature. Woody: A caw- ing bird with blunt -ed beak and clip- ped wings that can’t fly or sing worth a lick -ety split always pick- ing and peck -ing a-way at the best chirp- ing inside a chest -full of beat- ing Blue -birds' heart- felt art -tistic songs in- stead of sing -ing along think- ing it knows better than - the rest?

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