"refrained" poems
I slide myself between her tenderness.
She trembled from the embrace.
Her shivers soon tamed.
The pain of a pinch,
She's feeling it inside.
Unimaginable pleasures,
refrained from the release.
Nails tearing at my flesh,
her fingers grip, digging deep.
Sensations of pleasure eclipse reality.
Ravenous passions,
we consume; selfishly.
Tension building,
unbearable pressure;
relentlessly .
Her emotions
Eruptions; uncontrollably,
repetitively.
I'm giving her,
the best of me.
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 3:00 PM UTC
Teach me, if thou can-forgetfulness!
Teach me how to forget thee, for I ain't
worthy of these feelings. I am undeserving of
thy love-for I can only dwell in and cherish it-
I cannot give thee yon pleasure, my love. Pleasure-
and its affectionate satisfaction-t'ose two-o but
amusements, the ones whom thou so dearly adore-
are but a sin to me, a sin so brief and beautiful
but even more ungrateful then the unblinking
foliage-into which I am unwilling to sink. Aye,
forgetfulness shall be a mercy to me. For in
such idiocy have I dreamed-dreamed of being
in thy lovely arms, absorbed in the mist of thy
charms. But I can never be so! Even dreaming
shall I be refrained from-I can never hug
thee-even in my deepest tempestuous fears.
Thou are t'at bizarre light that roam the stones
of my pernicious dreams. But Thou despiseth me-
how thou hate me, thou who shall never glance back
in my last breath, thou who but condemn me-I,
should t'is world be altered, shall still remain
thy sudden wound; I am but a flawed work of
insulting wretchedness. Then teach me-
teach me, my love, invade my heart-and grasp
my veins, rob my of my dearly, dearly affection-
for thee, yes, which was born only for thee-
and leave me loveless, just as no-one flatters me
and endorse my feelings, in t'is very loneliness.
Jan 9, 2013
Jan 9, 2013 at 6:13 PM UTC
I've become used to chipped nail polish
Accustomed to tapping my feet and fingers
Never smiling
Biting my lip until I taste that
oh, so familiar,
morsel of blood
I'm used to being nervous
am I good enough?
I'm used to rejection
I'm not good enough
But, he never rejected me
I hide myself under an ugly sweater
an itchy, ugly sweater
And what lies beneath the sweater,
makes me nervous
Everything makes me nervous.
But, he accepted me
and my ugly sweater
I expect to hurt
I'm used to putting a bandage
wherever it stings
Hoping it heals
Only to pick at the scabs
When I'm nervous
But, he never hurt me
I've become used to being abandoned
I accepted the fact that
no one can love me
And I'm too nervous to love others
But,
When I met him,
I stopped chipping at my nail polish
I quit tapping my fingers and feet
I refrained from biting my lip
All of my scabs healed
I wasn't afraid to go outside
I was no longer afraid to take the elevator
He loved who I was
And I was able to love him in return
And
I smiled
Even under my ugly sweater
Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 12:43 PM UTC
Hast thou named all the birds without a gun;
Loved the wood-rose, and left it on its stalk;
At rich men's tables eaten bread and pulse;
Unarmed, faced danger with a heart of trust;
And loved so well a high behavior
In man or maid, that thou from speech refrained,
Nobility more nobly to repay?—
O be my friend, and teach me to be thine!
3.4k
To her, silence was comforting, alcohol was numbing and loneliness was all consuming
She often times scared away her nightly slumber
Her thoughts grew louder and more chaotic with every tick of the clock
She let her past mistakes consume her
Rummaged internally for answers to her actions that led her here
Lying on a mattress which sat on the carpet of a rundown apartment
Alone
To her, silence was comforting, alcohol was numbing and loneliness was all consuming
She kept eyes open all night looking and thinking and drinking
A lot of drinking to seize the thoughts that drowned her
She traveled back in her dormant state to find events she wished had happened differently Dreamt up memories where she never walked away
Or where she refrained from saying something in an outburst of anger
She was haunted by
Everything
To her, silence was comforting, alcohol was numbing and loneliness was all consuming
Her thoughts had begun to agitate her being Transforming her mind into a whirlwind of anger and helplessness
She sat up at the edge of her mattress with the palms pressed tightly against her eyes, shaking her head in a frenzy
Her hands migrated to her hair, gathering a hand full and pulling
Eyes stung with the tears that began to surface She took hasty steps toward her counter in search of a bottle to console her for the night
The only thing that put an end to the chaos was
Alcohol
To her, silence was comforting, alcohol was numbing and loneliness was all consuming
Dec 22, 2015
Dec 22, 2015 at 6:03 PM UTC
To start --
being an adolescent with autumn eyes,
seeking a prophecy for long-standing bravery
to further the spinning spokes for minutes, five more,
I burned the drapes to reveal a humanity only I could see.
The expectations were elaborately existing, unsatisfying. Sons
and fathers, years refrained from matters
that reverse reverse reverse curses and maturity
without purpose.
Those idle accepted neglect, and the existence of an
unsalted bridge was quickly detained. Alone, the foolish described
to search for the future in geometric formation and coffee ring
stains fading the desk.
But the sense proposed in my decided equality drank dignity
straight from the bottle. The road that lead me between two cliffs,
Propriety and Statistics, with the rocks already pelting down,
could not diminish my enthusiasm for necessary absurdities.
There's no flesh in declared mediocrities.
I became a luminary for pleasures of eminence, hope with resolve,
opportunities in destiny. Blind gambles obliged the fear of exacting
sensibility. Passionate follies created no-regret-consequences,
satisfied stability. Only the **** are granted victories in eternal gaiety.
Mortality is irrelevant if you let mystery be your urgency.
Oct 3, 2012
Oct 3, 2012 at 3:53 PM UTC
Narcotized by her ****** nocturne
Electric my desires elevated
Her body a red velvet luxury
Crippled our bodies fell elated
Upon our skins moonlight peaked
Quite a golden ****** to devour
Profound dissolving within sin
Passion sensually shaping the hour
Time may be fickle,
Refrained the night remains young
Though I can taste the minutes
Descendant from the sweltering sun
In sync may our bodies move
To human nature's mystic groove
Jan 21, 2012
Jan 21, 2012 at 9:11 PM UTC
i remember that first night
how desperately you craved
to feel my lips against yours.
how worried you were when i refrained
from surrendering to your deep inhalations.
thoughts of uncertainty clouded your confidence
while your sense of comfort waned and ebbed
as my will held like a cliffside
against the ocean of your lust.
let me calm your worried mind now darling
it was not for lack of desire
that i held my lips pursed.
it was not detachment
that held my hands shy
of a passionate embrace.
i was lost in the shear comfort
of your presence.
your warm hands on my chest
felt as though they had been there
my whole life.
the weight of your leg across my hips,
so familiar that i was left confused by
the brevity of our acquaintance compared
to the depth i could see so clearly
in your glistening eyes.
it was in adoration for this precious moment that
i held myself satiated.
it was this same feeling that held me in fear
that our first kiss would not be the
electric explosion of beginnings
that we would hope to fuel our infatuation,
but that you would feel dissatisfied by the same ease
and placidity i felt.
i kissed you
in that way i felt i had for years and
with that practiced knowing hand
i pulled your lips in close.
they sang a story so old and meaningful
that i found a joy akin to returning home.
...
and since then
every moment shared,
every touch experienced,
every kiss given and
every kiss received
is a small unravelling of a truth that
i had long since forgotten:
that home is where the heart is.
...
and you have mine
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 5:21 PM UTC
What's in a name?
Let me tell you a story,
Of how my life changed,
And how my name changed,
Every time it appeared on the newspaper.
Replaced by a pseudonym,
Something to do with courage,
I was namelessly admired, slandered, and debated over,
Media’s Exclusive Coverage!
The newspaper headline read in big block letters:
“14 YEAR OLD GIRL SAVES SIX KINDERGARTNERS”,
That made me smile.
Just maybe I thought we had come that extra mile.
But no for I noticed,
My name was changed,
And the Printing Department was not at fault.
That’s just how my country dealt with ****** assault.
I never asked them to hide my name,
They had presumed, of course, that I was ashamed,
Of saving lives. It took me a minute to remember,
I had called Jyoti Nirbhaya for years.
I wanted them to know who I was,
Hiding I thought was for criminals,
Until I realized that I WAS one when,
On returning from the hospital I saw,
Pain in my mother’s,
Anger in my father’s,
And disgust in my relatives’ eyes.
No idea why a part of me had come expecting pride.
In school my “friends” guiltily refrained from talking to me,
Neither were my teachers too happy to see,
That I had returned to the same school,
Bringing with me my painful story,
Which I had mistaken as one of glory.
And when I went to receive the “Bravery Award”,
Only the trophy didn’t read compensation award.
They looked at me with too kind eyes calling me a “hero”
Their smiles told me they meant violated.
As I received the award,
I saw they were trying really hard,
To not let it show,
That they wanted me to know,
The difference between:
Bullet marks on the chest to bite marks on the breast,
Blue around the eyes to blue around the thighs,
Scratches on the fists to cuts on the wrists,
Loud screams in the cold to muffled screams against the cold,
The red of the torn ligament to the red of the torn *****
The difference between a soldier’s and a victim’s blood.
And suddenly I felt as if I was,
The rescued,
Not the rescuer,
The maimed,
Not the fighter,
The oppressed,
Not the rebel,
The hostage,
Not the warrior,
I thought myself to be.
What’s in a name?
Apparently, a lot.
Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 11:36 AM UTC
the words i wanted to speak were stuck somewhere in the galaxy in my head.
the voice to tell you hid in the black hole of my heart in dread.
the waterfalls trying to descend from my eyes stay unshed.
the stinging pain lingering in my heart for so long remains bottled.
the undying love i could not control continues to burn in red.
while you fall hard into the deep water instead.
now the undying love i could not control shreds me to threads.
if i had known it wasn't scorching fire you needed,
but the soothing liquid you've wanted,
i would not have refrained the falls from falling,
i would not have loved you hard but calm,
i would have let the blood of my pen drown you with the words
i wanted to say
but now they're
all
left
unsaid
and
all dead stars
in the galaxies
in my head.
Mar 25, 2018
Mar 25, 2018 at 11:22 AM UTC
Evening! fearful face turns red,
you set in the west, awed!
With reverence and respect
you prostrate before Almighty God.
Whole night you travel
a fixed course beyond my ken
so that with God's permission
from east you can rise again.
This has been going on
and go on till the time ordained
then your route will be changed,
from prostration you'll be refrained.
People will be surprised
to see you rising from west that day.
Door of repentance will be closed,
very very near will be Doomsday.
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 10:37 AM UTC
You're still the first name I think of when I scan my thoughts scouring for a thought; when I need a thought to drift myself to sleep to
I want to view you as innocence and I did for a long time and I tried to take your reticence as a sign of neutrality, not belligerence or a sense of mocking
How silly was I, to assume that 5 whole months that you refrained from the topic of me was neutral
That you were just moving on, but not on purpose
But oh my, you've become more belligerent than I ever expected a little girl with a shrunken ego to be and my, I didn't think you could say those things about me. But you did.
But, entropy is apt to only consume us; yet, the scatteredness of our atoms cannot explain why you chose to tell me that I am not right in life
You've defended yourself by projecting yourself onto me and my making me the scapegoat so you can pick up some girl that you don't have to ***** to ****
And I guess that humanists and I are wrong because well
People ******* ****
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 11:01 PM UTC
Having time with my
First girlfriend
I hold her hand
In my hand
Gone to movie theatre
Before the interval
I hugged her many
Times
And had a kiss
Later!
I felt exalted
Out of the world
Happiness flickered everywhere
I walked in the seventh heaven
And feeling of ecstasy
Which refrained in me
All i wanted that time
Was to share!!
The next morning
Having the same excitement
Of yesterday feeling
I told everything with joy
To my friends
Here and there
I didn't care
Was it wrong or fair?!!!
She slapped me
Made red cheek of mine
You exaperated her
Asking about that time
Now ******* you felt fine!!!!
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 12:48 PM UTC
I have this little pencil pouch
that I stuff scraps of paper in,
"happy memories,"
and when I'm feeling down
I'll reach in, swish them around,
and pull out a few
to remind me of better times.
They're all kinds of memories:
big, significant moments,
funny or sweet quotes,
little nothings I don't even remember
until I read them later.
Today one was, "I threw away
my last two blades 6.12.14"
Now, this one was pretty **** major.
I used to have cutting kits,
blades hidden everywhere,
and one always
always
on my person,
just in case I needed it quick.
I remember my first cut
with scary clarity.
I was ten.
I'm twenty-six now.
Sixteen years I've been
haphazardly coping
in all the wrong ways.
More than half of my life
was consumed with the evolution
of my methods.
Maybe you can understand,
just a little bit,
how incredibly terrified
and yet empowered
I felt on 6.12.14
when I opened my palm
and watched those last two
faulty escapes fall into the trash.
Every day since has been a struggle,
but I haven't relapsed once.
I've thought about it,
dear lord have I thought about it,
but I've refrained,
forced to just rub the scars
running across my porcelain skin.
I feel like I've been battling
these hellish urges forever,
so when I opened that slip of paper
and read it, comprehended the date,
I wasn't proud at all.
6.12.14
I broke down, instant tears.
All this struggling I've been doing,
and it hasn't even been two months.
Not even two measly ******* months.
If this is what "staying clean"
from my ******** addiction
feels like in just the first
month and a half,
I'm not going to make it.
Aug 2, 2014
Aug 2, 2014 at 1:42 PM UTC
By the morning and the light
The bringer of life gives back
a day to stand before You
unveiled, touched, praying
Praise be to You who blessed
me with another waking
I have been asleep
In a dream that I believed in
and I’d captured scenes
that fooled me out of reason
upon the place I stood before
I fall on battered knees
I’ve seen the end so clearly
I ran with them, to You. They
who were the faithful,
they that followed truth...
blind are we by the light
or darkness, we all fall to ruin
What right do dreams have
wandering and imagining
such glory as to be the one
who speaks the truth of You
What remark have my lips parted
or refrained, to earn the words of You?
What right does my heart have
to this yearning for Your guidance
The one whose hand does hold the glory
of the morning, and the tide
In them are signs for us who wonder
we too will fall and rise
Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 12:10 PM UTC
I could never describe
what I am feeling within
this black ink upon the page
this betrayal
that sinks into my chest
and grabs hold within
I try to breathe
you have a knife to my throat
and I long to be happy
it’s strange how you’re gone
long days of laughter
now filled with emptiness
but I’d rather be empty
than be with you
you make my blood scream
you make my hair stand up
you make my eyes
swing around in my head
I feel unsafe
that my secrets lay between couch cushions
like lost change
I wish I could take them back
wrap them up and hide it under the bed
I wish I could build walls
I climb up the ladder but
it is slick and I
fall further back down every time
and soon there is no place left to fall
except the floor where I lay
in the exact spot you left me
I can’t live in the place I was
controlled and refrained like a bad habit
I’m lost with you
but I’m found without you
while we were together
we were also far apart
maybe losing this will bring me up
even though everyone says
I’m bound to be brought down
but I believe in happiness
I have worshiped the thought of it
held it at my fingertips and watch
as it refused to be touched
this is me telling you
that I am strong
stronger then the weights
you tie at my ankles
and i am sorry
that my idea of happiness
is something you despise
but I am here to say
live with it
like I’ll live without you
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 12:28 AM UTC
One cannot just simply
Replace
The salty tears or scattered pieces
That once contained a heart.
One cannot just simply
Reconstruct
The fallen home or forgotten wishes
Withholding a haven of wonder and
Bittersweet reminiscence.
One cannot just simply
Prosper
When this world has once again come to an
Abrupt halt
The smiles and sentiments have refrained from spinning and
The images have stopped moving.
Where there was once laughter
Now lies an empty silence.
Where there was once life
Now lies an empty body.
Everything that binded her in rusted chains
Escaped from her desperate grasp and now
She
Is only a memory.
Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 6:33 PM UTC
those who created wind and water had many reasons,
but their first purpose was to constant enliven the human mind
with the softest message that true freedom is never bounded
nature’s song is refrained, “man, be unrestrained,”
nature’s majesty is then greatest, for men fool
themselves with lines, divisions and walls.
Earth’s best, humans too, best seen in its
unconstrained, searching character.
this is the one, only truth.
12:07am Sun Jul 12
Jul 12, 2020
Jul 12, 2020 at 12:08 AM UTC
There are chemicals in my brain
They refrained and rearranged to a place where they flooded and drained
All out, depleted, emptied out my entire past, memories have been deleted
This is such a mess I cannot come to grasp
day to day living is such a blur and full of insecurities
Not knowing where I come from and can't be free within society
Trapped inside a box that's made of glass that will not break
Strength like a diamond, can't even be scratched, and what I perceive seems so fake
This epidemic is becoming a well known fact
No way to explain this state of mind or feeling to the world so all I can do Is simply act
Pretend things are fine and becoming a robot leaving me depersonalized
Technology is a distraction of thoughts waiting for my demise
Stuck in a disguise of happiness it's a disgusting life of lies
Lies of smiles that aren't worth while, so far gone that no tears even come to my brown eyes
Sitting, sleeping, breathing loneliness, toes curling, sad to my stomach, so sick, my thoughts race and whirl
Dreamland, fear is grand, this isn't an easy fight, so I curl
Into a ball of self pity
Hold my head up high and wait until this darkness turns into light
Wondering if my soul is still even inside of me
Numb as nova-cane
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 1:03 PM UTC
The light from the garish stained glass
seeps through my splintered window pane
illuminating the dim room with colors so
magnificent it could salvage a broken heart
the subtle but powerful hues remind me of when I was a child
everything so innocent and so sweet
Not a trace of flushed red cheeks when I was younger no,
I was not angry, nor was I sad
Meditative breathing just to calm myself down
repeating mantras as I rub the beads of my Mala bracelet
I guess when you grow older life gets harder
thats just the way it is.
I tell this to myself everyday
Everyday I want to weep but the bitter tears that used to stain my face
with cheap mascara have refrained me from even the littlest drop of sadness
The feelings just sit inside my tired bones and accumulate but theres no precipitation
Yet there is still no sunshine only cloudy days.
So the next time I get to see light from stained glass trickle through my splintered window pane
I will be grateful because it may be the last sunshine I ever see.
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 8:51 AM UTC
My mother always told me to be careful what i say in mixed company, for some words could offend one party but not the other. But instead of being cautious of the words i spit out, i am more scared of the words i swallow. I have caused a rip in the balance of life, taking years from others i am undeserving of. I should have died a long time ago, but instead i am here stealing oxygen from those who need it more.
I was told that when i sleep, i mumble incoherent sentences. But your walls hear what you say in your sleep, and thats where all the cracks come from. I have choked on bits of the ceiling that has broken off from my sorry language and i think thats why i wake up in fits of not breathing. That persistent feeling of falling is not an illusion, its God trying to tell me He wants me back, that i am not welcome in this bed, so Hes trying to find a way to pull me through my roof but He is not stronger than the forces of suffering. I am Suffering. I am the sacrificial lamb that must be given back to the heavens. I am the ambrosia stolen from the gods and they're descending to take me back.
Every ***** in my body has the natural instinct to survive, but my heart is telling me to escape, that it'll fight off the rest so i can do what needs to be done. My heart is the kindest of them all, it has met my soul that is too old for my body. My soul is crying out to the clouds, wanting to be released but thats why i have refrained from sticking that knife to my veins for nearly a year in fear of what i might let out. Sometimes its blood, sometimes its pain, but sometimes its freedom and tonight i will be drunk in my liberation until God has seen my insides deflate, watch a sadness so heavy that it grinds my bones to dust. God does not know what this body is capable of, God has seen nothing yet.
Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 3:07 PM UTC
London roses
German daffodils
Man and wild
A beast quickly tamed
A name
Refrained
Japanese blossoms
Sweet herbs
Brewing
A mixture
Tainted
Sought out vengeance
On a curse given
Stoking
Fire
Flame
A name
Refrained
Held against will
Power to fill
Empty chest
Man and wild
London daffodils
German roses
Put on display
Left a tamed beast
In dismay
Confused from
Very thought
Caught lust
Fought what it brought
For love
Soon to come
Brewing a mixture
Stoking
Dire
Fire
Flame
Potent potions
Key component
To figure out
A name
Japanese flower blossom
With stories so sweet
Wild man
Beating carcass
In streets
Forgetting the already lost
Sought out vengeance
For a curse given
A beastman tamed
Surely his heart
Fair gain
Although tainted
Potent potions
Power to fill
Empty chest
Man plus beast
Ruined nest
A bird
Didnt fly
Oh but a woman cried
Absent body mind
A wild beastman
One of a kind
Aug 24, 2012
Aug 24, 2012 at 1:57 AM UTC
I refrained from reading
Books of poetry
Due to a festering fear
Of confirmation
Of my subpar talent.
With hesitation,
I opened my first,
And what an interesting surmise
Our poems
Were all equally bland.
Jun 30, 2021
Jun 30, 2021 at 8:27 AM UTC
On the day when my uncle and I drove to the cemetery,
Rain rattled on the roof of the carriage;
And talkng constrainedly of this and that
We refrained from looking at the child's coffin on the seat before us.
When we reached the cemetery
We found that the thin snow on the grass
Was already transparent with rain;
And boards had been laid upon it
That we might walk without wetting our feet.
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Salty tears
Slither like snakes in summer
Meandering moments of madness mused
Ratchet heart and rabid tongue retorts
Flimflam fluke fisticuffs fought
A mirrored mirage manically manifest
A parade of psychosis fevered pitch
Easy the embryo erased eternal
Gods grace given gone
Sanguine souls stand sequestered
A pitiful penitent they plead
A song of Solomon heralds
Cherubs on chariots
Carrying chalices crafted of gold
Seeks repentance refrained from sin
All souls suffer life myriad interpretations
And all
Must answer
In
The
End
Aug 2, 2016
Aug 2, 2016 at 10:21 AM UTC