"rarely" poems
in the rain-
darkness, the sunset
being sheathed i sit and
think of you
the holy
city which is your face
your little cheeks the streets
of smiles
your eyes half-
thrush
half-angel and your drowsy
lips where float flowers of kiss
and
there is the sweet shy pirouette
your hair
and then
your dancesong
soul. rarely-beloved
a single star is
uttered,and i
think
of you
149.8k
~for L3igh~
the briefness of brevity,
the quality of giving
and indeed, it is a-quality,
a luxury item so affordable,
yet, so totally, rarely purchased,
When
giving up the
requisite,
only the lonely, but
always the critical,
relevant or necessary
exquisite
in a few words
Let us practice:
I love you,
but only the very
first time, in a memory
bronzed and burnished,
putting to shame the way
too short modesty of
forever…
uttering a precious
precision of a soulful
thank you
to a passing
stranger, who runs
into your home afire,
saving all of your
family's lives
could go on, and on,
But that would not be,
A Concision,
instead,
a concession, to the
very few times in a day,
in the world's entirety,
when those are the words,
are only the only,
a sufficient holy,
a devout summary
spectacular,
akin, but only a
just, derivative of,
a sincerely uttered:
Thank You God^
nml
Oct 5, 2025
Oct 5, 2025 at 8:02 AM UTC
You always give
He receives
You're always there for him
He's rarely present for you
Is this one-sided?
You give time
but he's too busy
You try to make him laugh
but he's not happy
You're expecting
You're waiting
But you know very well
It is unrequited
For this love will only be true to you
But will never be to him
Remember, this is one-sided.
Dec 21, 2015
Dec 21, 2015 at 12:07 PM UTC
I keep my feelings on a leash,
locked in a cage like the perpetrators of crime.
Sometimes I take them out for walks
to test out their rarely used legs on the ground.
Only too reel them back in,
too scared to let them wander,
wander towards those who let theirs loose freely,
not caring where they step.
For I have learned that this only leads to hurt.
Stubbed toes on the curbsides called love.
Failed attempts at crossing the crosswalk,
into the depths of someones shallow, unforgiving arms.
Not paying attention to the Stop sign right next to them.
Over and over, I wish I would've noticed that sign sooner..
Before all the heartbreaks and fallen tears.
And that is why
the footwork of my heart, kept captive in the dark,
is sleeping in silence for perhaps eternity
Mar 13, 2018
Mar 13, 2018 at 1:04 AM UTC
We live in a world where no means convince me and flirting is a green light for ***
Where women are told, *don't get ***** and men are rarely told, *don't ****
Where **** shaming is encouraged and victims are blamed.
Where speaking out about **** is a call for attention and **** victims are silenced.
We live in a world where **** culture is normal and that is unacceptable.
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 9:49 PM UTC
Some people are like stars,
so close yet so far away.
Some people are like the moon,
Shining so bright, but rarely noticed.
Some people are like comets,
They burn so bright and so fast that they don't last.
Some people are like constellations,
They look so put together when really everything is far from it.
Some people are like the night sky,
They look so dark far away, but really are filled with light.
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 8:41 PM UTC
Every day we pass thousands of people on the street, and barely even a hello is exchanged, maybe a smile if your lucky.
It might be a little funny to think that each of these people are going wherever they are going, they are living their lives and you have the opportunity to be apart of it even if it's just five seconds.
You can do a lot with five seconds, for all you know a quick smile to someone passing by might change their life.
Despite someone's appearance, they could be a completely different person that you might expect, breaking the stereotype.
The sweet old women sitting next to you on the train, smiling and talking as if the world was heaven, is counting her numbered days. The coloured man across from you with the bloodied knuckles and bruised face saved a teenage girl from being ***** last night.
The 18-year-old girl on the other side of the train, showing more skin than clothing in a ******
And the boy in the corner covered in tattoos and piercings and is wearing only black is on his way to the hospital to read to the children in the cancer wing like he does every afternoon ever since he lost his little sister.
My point is simple, nothing is rarely as it seems. Each stranger you pass has there own story. Don't judge based off what you see because your vision is a misconception.
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 1:42 PM UTC
Personality.
It’s just never enough.
Is it?
It can’t win someone over,
It can’t change someone’s mind.
And rarely does it get you what you want.
Personality.
It’s just never enough.
Is it?
Mar 13, 2012
Mar 13, 2012 at 10:53 PM UTC
dear you,
i’m in love.
yes. you were
waiting, i
bet, for this.
this time, though,
it is not
what you would
think. it’s me
this time, not
you, although
it’s still you,
but not in
the way it
used to be
you. it’s my
fault this time,
my doing,
my painful,
pitiful,
suffering.
it’s you in
the sense that
i cannot
control you.
this time,
it’s your mind and your thoughts
the things that slip off of your tongue
the words you put, pencil to paper
the ideas that come out in your songs
it’s your eyes and your sight
the careful observation of beauty
the need to bask in warm, pure light
the stare you give me, rarely now
it’s your movements and your touch
the hugs where you grip my shoulders
the times where i’m drunk and playing with your fingers
the warmth you give off and your gorgeous smile
none of them
are mine to
have, to take
to keep, to
love, to break
i miss you
and to go
and detach
to break what
we have, that’s
the hard way
out. but i
am trying
to help me.
i feel the
same way i
did when you
said i was
wrong about
this. about
how i feel.
i’m hoping
disposing
myself of
you, means that
the dreams will
go away
too. but if
they stay,
i’ll give you
a quick call.
probably
a text, to
be honest.
i love you,
unhealthily,
with every
part of me.
keep in touch,
please.
love,
me.
Jul 4, 2018
Jul 4, 2018 at 10:10 AM UTC
talkshows and the yellow press
get excited in excess
over his shenanigans
that delight his faithful fans
rumors of these *** affairs
strong words for all macho players
in the game of social thrones
texts with threatening undertones
for minorities and women
treating immigrants like demons
neither fans nor his opponents
seem to notice the components
of the white house strategy
throw them bones
fodder for the yellow press
and while they fight
clandestinely out of sight
works the Trumpian policy
money laundering blatant lies
scolding allies breaking ties
adoring foes praising those
usurpers of democracies
experts in atrocities
slowly yet persistently
undermine civility
with foul language
fill all courts with servile judges
court the aristocracies
of oil sheikdoms in the East
praising communist dictators
who have helped him build his towers
step by step he‘s leading US
from the groups of international powers
to an isolation desert
at the margins of the world
slogans we have rarely heard
over decades
now re-nourished
twittered with presidential flourish
make America small again
warning voices call in vain
no wonder the statue of liberty
is hiding her face in misery (*)
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 5:24 PM UTC
She has her own star
Down on the boulevard
Where they all line up to see her
Welcome to her life
Welcome to her world
Her life did not go as planned
She thought the whole world was in her hands
She craves intimacy in the worst way
But has to settle for whatever the fellows are paying for that day
She parades around on her concrete stars perfumed and sprayed
Hopeful that someone will find her desirable rather than doubtful
Wears tons of makeup
Smokes two packs a day
She thinks the sooner she leaves this world the better
She had a plan she had a path
Before that monster stole her soul and caused her wrath
Now alcohol and drugs help numb her pain
Nothing but a ghost girl remains
The other girl shed herself just a pile of skin left on the floor
This new person is all anyone will see anymore
She does have a good heart
but rarely uses it
too many people have let her down
No one ever tries to see the person that she is
they never stop to hear her story
They say it's hard work to look that easy
Some may even call her ******
But not me
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 9:57 AM UTC
It's a plan in itself,
Not an open invitation for suggestions
To go on long walks, or dancing,
Or paint-balling, or take a drive
Down to the beach.
It doesn't mean I am free
To do one of the hundreds of tasks
You decide are more important,
In an attempt to fill my day
With a different kind of meaning.
Today I am doing nothing,
Because I have become lost,
In a world where doing something, anything
Is so expected of ourselves and each other
That simply doing nothing is viewed
As a waste of time.
We so rarely have opportunity
To have the conversations in our heads
That determine who we really are,
As we watch the moments floating past,
Lying under the stars.
Today I am doing nothing,
Please understand that what I desire,
Is silent doorbells, unknocked doors
And that the phone doesn't ring
As I curl up by the fire.
Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 4:35 PM UTC
Who would think a rose so sweet
Would dry and crumble at the feet
And blooms that scent the night and day
Would steal a heart, then fade away
With petals soft and fondly red
Sweet essence fills an addled head
Then turns to dust before the eyes
Leaving naught, but sad surprise
Who would think such thorny vine
Could lift a blossom as divine
And by the stem on which it stands
Could so wrong an offered hand
Such strength and beauty is rarely true
A blessing owned by very few
As 'neath the soil, in winters keep
There sleeps a rose to tear a cheek
Who would think that perfect bloom
Could be a bane, a curse of doom
So fine a sight, yet in disguise
A rose to ***** and blind the eyes
Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 8:29 AM UTC
I am not a child,
I am not your child.
In fact, I am all grown up.
I am all grown up,
but I cannot forget my childhood
because of you.
I kiss girls,
not boys,
because I am afraid that they will hurt me,
(like the monster you are) like you did.
I cover up,
extra clothes,
because I rarely wore clothes as a child
and you would peer at me through
the crack in the bathroom wall.
I don't sing with the birds.
I don't hug my teddy bear.
I don't leave the house.
I am terrified you are out there,
hunting for me like I am your prey.
But I am not a child,
I am all grown up,
and I can beat you up.
I am not a child,
and I will not call you "My Daddy"
and I will not let you call me "Baby".
I am not a child,
and I will not let you touch me.
I am gold, I am radiant, I am light.
And you will not ruin that,
ever, ever, ever again.
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 2:28 PM UTC
You like to say love disappeared.
And I swear it never left, but she talk like Kanye "Ima let you finish"
shrug her shoulders; cut me off, Swift.
Drinks on the table it was no one else's business, Henny in my system there was no one else who witnessed how she never took a breath like a run on sentence so I'm in the club flexing working on my fitness; arms out stretched on my chest crucifixion.
I'm forgiven but could never get a word in not even one syllable I'm talking in synonyms I,
never
ever
nevermore, words with friends. Triple word how absurd you be trippin **** on my Instagram insecurity I'm tired of it I'm with my Boys chillin rarely smoked but might burn a spliff; ease the pain so insane major Payne fatigue is in.
I got a glimpse of future, I use to, try to hit you up reconnect, bluetooth, I'm in her ear lying for the *** I miss you, she on top giving me the truth: this all you. But **** it though I'm not trynna be your man, but when she leaving out for work I be sleepin in
and when she home I tax that *** like I'm Uncle Sam nothing ever change so after head she be at my neck
next
Flashback to the present
--and--
she still telling me how I don't get it
stressed
unproductive in her presence, you not even in front of me I'm still tasting lemons; Yo, my star player wants a trade should I let her go? cut too deep for bandaids should I let it flow.
Throwback to the past vampire clothes but the blood different I'm a sucker for that red though: she was floating 6 inches from the earth floor, you's a victim baby true blood, spoil us! Show Me What You Got lil mama let your "Kingdom Come" dressed in all black spending money black republican? Awesome and some; I was sliding home she was catching, clamping; say I turn her on like a touch screen, Samsung; with a touch of color you would disobey your mother as I slid under your covers
mid-day massages
"Midnight Maunders"
at least that's how it use to be, now Award Tour got her trippin almost frequently
we use to fight for love she said now she a causality!
"and how you gonna make this bout you it's about me, phone ringing since 1am it's about 3
thought you was slick huh,
thought I was sleep, you **** right love disappeared"
but she never leaves.
She's still waiting to exhale, but she never breaths.
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 10:18 PM UTC
A labyrinth expands before me,
Its only prize, the truth; reality
Awaits the shrewd of mind.
At every turn lie misdirections,
One wrong choice and I am
Lost, for perils lie ahead;
Webs of lies lie waiting for their prey.
I pray for wisdom that I may not fall,
Misguided by a ghost I thought I saw;
My own illusions turn me from the light.
The path ahead is cobbled from the shadows,
Bits of truth among them shining gold,
The only light to guide my weary feet
As Darkness beckons me with gentle hands.
Temptation offers respite from my search:
“Sit down and rest, poor ragged
traveler, you search in vain
For worthless lies. I tell the truth;
One as beautiful as I is honest, sure.”
I pay no heed. The truth is rarely beautiful or pure.
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 12:37 AM UTC
Spending a month in a hospital teaches you a lot about people.
The doctor that told me to shave my head or she wouldn't treat me,
The nurses that spent forever chatting to me
And giving me supportive advice about how my illness doesn't define me.
The woman who was given a terminal cancer sentence
And chose not to pay attention to it and defied it anyway.
How she sat next to me on my bed,
Told me that all suffering is valid,
And just because I'm not dying, doesn't mean I don't get to complain.
How she complains more about her skin problems
Than she ever complained about her cancer,
And that's OK, because pain rarely follows rules.
I never even learned her name,
But she gave me the words I hold most closely to me
On those days when I want to fall asleep and never wake up.
I'm allowed to scream and shout and rage against the pain
And the unfairness of it happening to me.
I just have to make sure I know where the line is
Between giving my darkness a voice and pitying myself.
Jul 6, 2016
Jul 6, 2016 at 12:01 PM UTC
I talk words of lust
with a boy unaware
I know not if it's unjust
if he knew that i would dare
To be touching lips with another
and another after that
3 boys who want me
and on top of that...
an ex-lover who awaits
her love to be reciprocated
by one she had wronged
by me, yes, I she has wronged.
and alas, the sister of a friend
whom i am confused upon
if i should love her or not
fool, you may think that she is the last one
another girl at school
she is but a year older
i see her from time to time
rarely i seek for her
she is but a crush
the sister, but a dream
the ex-lover - such a waste
and though it may seem
that i am an adultress
because of all these men
but judge me not
i don't belong to any of them
commit, you say
it is for the best
but if i do so again
i may have to rip out my chest
it hurts beyond words
and the pain - i may not be able to bare
and i'd have to swallow the hurt again
till i am too numb to give a care
so tell me, kind stranger, what would you do?
if you had 3 boys and 1 girl loving you
another girl, you might love
and another girl, as a crush
don't you think it's a tad bit too much?
though, i can't control it
I need to be reassured
that though my love betrayed me
this broken vessel be cured
by something more real
it has to exist
something i wont be afraid to love
something far greater than a kiss
something others cant take from me
something thats just mine
something that i can have
and keep for all time
so tell me, kind stranger, do you take me for a fool?
you think i don't know that such thing is hard to find?
that it is but impossible
because i am still so blind
i'll find my happiness
i pray to the gods i do
but only once i stop thinking of finding it
is when id find you
you. whom i have poured my heart and soul out to
without giving a rat's ***
one i'm not afraid of - i'm afraid of everything.
you, who is not wearing a mask.
if you tell me that you're right there
id lose all faith in man kind
because i know you're not
i know that now.
if you tell me you wont hurt me
don't say another word
because i know you will hurt me
i know that now.
but i can love myself
i can live for myself, too
i know that now
i don't exactly have to live for you.
it is my life
this is my world
but i'm lonely
because i'm too scared to be that broken hearted girl
the one who cried
the one who swore
and hit her lover
and walked out the door
even if i could
i wouldn't change a thing
because through this mangled heart
i can love true again
someday..
Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 10:31 PM UTC
We live in a world filled with stereotypes.
Stereotypes that make us ashamed of who we are.
There’s a woman in my neighborhood who wears tight clothing and high heel shoes but that doesn’t mean she’s a ******
There’s a boy in my class who listens to rap music and wears baggy clothes, but that doesn’t mean he’s out on the street selling dope.
There’s a girl in my class who rarely says to words and get’s straight A’s, but that doesn’t mean she’s a goody goody.
People ask us all the time of who we think we are,
but it doesn’t matter to them because before we can even digest the question and regurgitate the answer they have already made their mind up of who they think we are.
Some people are considered a brain.
Some a trouble maker
or a ****
A princess
or a ******
But the truth is we are all smart, just in different ways.
Everyone of us has some athleticism in us.
Everyone one has gotten into some trouble.
We have all had are princess or prince moments.
And everyone of us is weird,
some people are just better at hiding in it.
You remember my neighbor I told you about?
She dresses like that, not because she is trying to sell herself
but because when she was younger she got bullied and no one ever noticed her because she never had designer clothes because her mother had no job and her father left when she was 4. And ever since then she made herself a promise that she would make sure people noticed her.
And that boy with the baggy clothes?
He wears those baggy clothes to cover up the cuts and bruises his father comes home from the and had one to many drinks.
And the girl who get’s straight A’s and doesn’t say much?
She get’s those straight A’s because if she doesn’t she gets a straight hand across the face and she doesn’t talk because she has sever anxiety.
So the next time you point and laugh at someone remember that they’re 3 fingers pointing back at you.
And the next time you assume something about something remember that when yo assume yo make an *** out of U and ME.
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 4:46 PM UTC
I’m buried in a cocoon of stories
From poetry,
To biographies,
To dystopia,
And romance
So many stories
Of so many people
Real,
Or just figments of the author’s
Imagination
Sitting atop wooden bookshelves
Waiting for the right person,
To pick them up
And get lost in their story
For everyone has a story to tell,
Some are overly exaggerated,
And other’s are rarely heard
The important thing is
That we share our stories
Through word of mouth,
The internet,
Or in a notebook
To be found by future historians
Tell your story
Believe me, you won’t regret it
May 26, 2019
May 26, 2019 at 4:41 PM UTC
I never thought about it that much
But making conversation is really hard stuff
Put me on stage without a script and I'll shine
Put me in a group of girls and I'll cry
Because I'm a one of a kind extroverted introvert
Really ******* confident and out of it
But incredibly ******* shy
I never really thought about what I say that much
I think the most honest form of communication is touch
If I want you out of my space I'll mumble "go away"
But my actions are a lot louder throwing a punch at your face
I struggle over Facebook when you say "what up"
Because I'll say "hey" and immediately log out
Its like my personality wants to be known
But my words are muffled and rarely shown
I'm a one of a kind extroverted introvert
I don't expect you to understand
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 3:34 PM UTC
for you to believe
to a person such as me
is unbelievably touching
fate and support
often seen but rarely felt
i thank thee for everything
Aug 23, 2015
Aug 23, 2015 at 12:07 PM UTC
My feet
Are so far away
From my head.
I think that they are
The most fortunate
Piece of my body.
Rarely are they
Punctured
Or stabbed.
Clawed
Or sliced.
They even try
To hold me up
When I'm too dizzy,
Depleted to think.
To bad I hate them,
For they are still
A part of me.
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 10:32 PM UTC
Even though humans struggle to live and darkness is easier memorized than light..
Moments of bliss and happiness are still likely to occur,
Perhaps not today perhaps it will take a longer time,
That is what I find very beautiful,
The love of life which rarely is set ablaze by events,
Rejoicing, in the truest bliss alike spiders in their tiny dance,
Forgetting the heavy rain and feeling alive on the highest level,
Even though, it is likely to fade as if it was dust carried away by a gentle breeze of the coming spring, far away till the horizon,
A moment of love can change a persons view of the world,
Motivate them to keep on fighting to experience the sheer amount of joy and happiness carried to them by the purest state of the mind,
Until all the shrapnel of their hearts rejoin and shine beyond the scene, with light coming from above the heavens, golden, free of sin,
And when the sunset ends these cheerful moments, their memories live on, reminding, recalling and pointing out to fight furthermore,
Even though humans stuggle to live wretchedly,
Living,
Is what I find very beautiful.
~ Umi
Mar 7, 2018
Mar 7, 2018 at 2:10 PM UTC