"prettify" poems
Let me clarify, I'm not here to prettify life.
Amplify your ego or nullify your beliefs.
I'm here for me.
Dignify for me your response without a lie.
Can you? No?
Then in my best of Anglo Saxon do me the favour of
******* the **** off".
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 12:38 PM UTC
Her body was a holy divine
It's grace could embrace
The Prince charming
I can't ratify
But those bangles
Could surely prettify
Her heart was maiden and pure
I can tell you for sure
Curly messy hair
Embellished her fair
Her body
What she once adored
Now what she abhor
Her modesty was
Outraged by his all labour.
It was her fault
That she charmed
Him thought he wouldn't harm.
Her naked legs
Evoked his passionate lust
Soon she found him in bust
With his virilescent crust
Her body was left to rust.
She could have been wooed
He taught she's a moo
He may have seen
Her bare feet in yahoo.
Her temper,her ego
Were surrendered to him long ago.
His demoniacal laughter
Which she couldn't bluster.
She Dreamed and prayed for
First kiss
First love
A moonlight dinner
In decent manner.
Preserved her womanhood
For love of her life
But demons crave
The lonely brave.
Oct 14, 2016
Oct 14, 2016 at 1:44 PM UTC
Here's my plan
I've thought of it long and hard:
First I'll collect every beautiful word on the planet
listen to every song that contains you
and photographically memorize every child's eyes
every mothers' warmth
every cool breeze
and every single scent of every single field of every newly cut blade of grass
basically, everything that captures the way your fingers feel
when they're wrapped around mine
and I'll take all these and fit them into one cardboard box which I will wrap and prettify
and morph into a poem
which I will end
with stars.
I will then give it to the mailman, who'll read it and know
that it's all about you
and he'll travel the world
searching, going into the places where I failed to go
and find you sitting
the way you do
with both feet up
on the stool
your knees bent
and your face contorted the way only your face can ever be contorted.
He will hand you the poem and you will read it
and know that I am still here,
and you will be moved
and fall in love with me again.
Then you'd begin searching for me though I already told you where I'd always be
and once you remember, you'll find me
and tell me that you've read my poem about mothers and their tender hands
and children with their bright eyes
and the grass which already says it all in itself
and also,
stars
and most importantly you'll tell me that you want me to write the rest of it
because there is so much more we can do together beyond the stars
and I will look at you as you tell me this
and try to familiarize myself with the face I've never had to familiarize myself with before
and I'll stand there watching your lips move
your chest heaving from each breath
and notice that they've changed and somehow I will seem to know that my mouth would not know how to fit into yours
and my head will have to move about a bit to find that nook on your chest it used to be glued too
and I will read that poem back
and then I'll see that just like your lips and your chest, all the words have changed
and that the person that I actually wrote it for
has already failed to exist the moment I penned
the last word
and so I end this poem
with stars.
Aug 8, 2011
Aug 8, 2011 at 6:36 PM UTC
In a standard row
Like an engine train go
Carrying a unit of rice
Never knowing the price
Leading a long way
Never saying a single nay
Always in a uniformity
Black or red to prettify
Naughty ants are they
Who bite us on their way !
May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 12:00 PM UTC
Mon coeur,
I can't live without you
I can't live when I'm with you
I can't breath
I can't speak
I'm turning French
to prettify the lie that we live.
Notre vie,
une grande catastrophe.
Aug 26, 2022
Aug 26, 2022 at 3:52 PM UTC
The land, where grass prettify Earth in green
Is filled with wild greenery that gives life
Which it came from the fruits the trees offer
To the dwellers, inhabiting the land
Providing food to populate its kind
And sustain continuous growth of life
The sky, where the eagles fly for freedom
Is painted with passion in hues of blue
And in the night, it's painted in darkness
With twinkling constellations of stars
Filled with wild dreams of the ambitious and
Gentle wishes of the meek in spirit
The ocean, where whales call the water home
Like the sky, it's described in hues of blue
Beyond its alluring sound of wild waves
Lies danger of drowning into the deep
Where predator and prey gamble their life
To survive the pressure underwater
Jun 20, 2019
Jun 20, 2019 at 9:19 PM UTC
.
We watched each other die
( but in a Positive Way )
•••
So
No complaining
No *** - stirring
no protesting
)(
Just prettify junk poetry
With as many
Meaningless
Adverbs and adjectives as your
Minds can find
And let it happen to you
( death )
Being positive
NOT negative
And in full
Compliance
To whatever is most mundane
::
Don't be real
BE NICE
BE LIKED !
and you will do groovy
On hello poetry
.
Jul 24, 2016
Jul 24, 2016 at 4:26 PM UTC
On Spring street where one
sees the dunes
from the kitchen windows
her first place in a long time
small, old, life stories
with new bathroom fittings
took time to prettify
yellow wardrobe, blue settee
and she remembers sitting
on the Berber rug looking
around, thinking
renting out is nice.
Aug 23, 2019
Aug 23, 2019 at 11:46 AM UTC