"refraining" poems
A passionate touch that I love so much also touches me with an unknown guilt when it comes.
Feeling chills down my back and tears on my face as our bodies meet again.
Filling me with sorrow every time we share that embracing stare.
A simple pleasure that I hate within as I sin a great sin.
Refraining from love with this affair Im in
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 4:04 AM UTC
In the last hour I dealt with a lot
My own definition of why I look dour
Memories I hid six feet under the ground
Came emerging, grasping, and clawing at me 'till I'm found
Saying what's good for me, but my thoughts aren't considered
Ignored by a mother, a father, a neglected child
A child that mimicked Rapunzel locked up in a tower
A child that had gotten their smile devoured
Each day they get thinner, all hopes get hindered
Clouded thoughts, faded scars, and their music gets louder
A habit to cloak emotions, not being able to shed a tear
Refraining from going to beer, avoiding others out of fear
Consolation comes through rose lenses,
A gun held to their head but not packed with powder
Oct 16, 2020
Oct 16, 2020 at 12:38 PM UTC
Pleasure enclosed noon on a table
A magnolia-soul from opposite chair
Puts on elegant dress
Like a blooming melody dancing on.
Bonsai is a living image of endless dream
I've ever seen a person how far delighted
Simple, extremely white portrait of life
So pretty and so the finest
never have I ever seen.
Billions of small bells are refraining
from entering the dark room
And I'm returning back towards a window
Through which a large a4 navy-blue sky is smiling.
Poem 03
Book 'Beckoning Jade-Dreams' April 2007
Copyright Musharrat Mahjabeen
Mizan Publishers, Dhaka, Bangladesh
ISBN 984-8700-82-X
Aug 15, 2012
Aug 15, 2012 at 2:29 PM UTC
With an old secret
I sank into her endless eyes
Pondering over laws
That effected such marvel
And leased me to madness
Words were melting in my mouth
She, refraining her turn of phrase
A tear rolled down my cheek
Stirring passion's tongue
A tear rolled down hers
Wielding my soul ablaze
I rejoiced in silence
Lest I betray my confidence
She handled my eyes
Spotting my inference
I could no longer bear
The fruits of my fear
I leaned over and touched
Her sculptured nails tenderly
Freeing my emotion
She smiled coyly
Sealing my devotion.
Oct 19, 2019
Oct 19, 2019 at 2:49 AM UTC
Silence. Solvent. Substituted;
subsidised
then marginalised
instituted and muted.
And, often
persecuted.
Rationanalised
by abstraction:
every minuscule
interaction dissected.
All that is left is convoluted,
misconstrued
and rejected.
The lucid bewildered.
The disillusioned bejeweled:
rooted in their state of mind.
Effortlessly self-proclaiming
restraining
and refraining
purging the imagination:
the waning of maligned mankind.
And all of his
illuminated limitations.
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 10:38 PM UTC
You took a scalpel to me, my dear
Skillfully working your way through the layers
Epidermis to lipids to muscular tissue until
The bone
You carved your name on my radius
Lovers' initials on a tree
Marrow leaked across your hand
A gift of the broken
You tried to sew me up, my dear
Realising you had gone far deeper than first thought
Surgeons hands you have not
A hack job, bound to leave scars
You've left me with bumps
Burns
Itches inside my very being
Refraining from scratching
In fear of what might come pouring out
Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 5:03 AM UTC
To look, or not to look: that is the question:
Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to forsake
The entertaining of such fanciful thoughts of love or lust
Or to pursue them against all odds of a benign response,
And by seeking, obtain? To look: to see:
Maybe more; And by a sight to find
In the glitter of an lined eye the interest and wanting
That impels said actions; ‘tis a reciprocation
Devoutly sought. To look: to see:
To see: perchance to lose: ay, there’s the rub;
For in that subtle glance what times may follow after
Whether the ice is broken or the heart instead,
Must give us pause: there’s the respect
That makes calamity of a choice to peek;
For who would bear the hurt of a scornful return,
A finding that the goddess is a medusa,
A turning of the fancies to stone,
A realization of disinterest, a knitting of the brows
A frown’s beginnings on a face so fair,
When she herself might her peace make
By refraining to meet the intended’s eye? Who would want
To face a rejection that is in all chance,
But for the regret that comes with a chance not taken,
Leaving what could be as what could have been
Forevermore, which makes us turn
And face the one to one million
Than never to face it at all?
Thus fear of rejections makes regretters of us all,
And thus the resolve to be one of a million
Is weakened by weighty o’erthought,
And an attempt to contemplate her soul through her eyes
With this regard are abandoned,
And lost to remain as fanciful thought.
Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 10:51 PM UTC
there are no haunted places;
just people that are haunted
by their past and presences,
by their longing to hold
memories and perceptions
of those loved and dead,
hanging on to the comfort
to the pathos amidst the chaos
of grief and mourning,
as if retaining the empty hurt
will assist in refraining from
the departure of treasured
thoughts, which is all that
remains, Pacman like
following, ready to pounce
Apr 24, 2010
Apr 24, 2010 at 5:21 AM UTC
Alarming weather of a stormy coax
Subjected to approval while reposing hoax
Judging panels for this pandemonium chords
Refraining orders for the minority shrouds
All hail I'll never place my dignity down
You know I've always love you
Or am I just your clown
©2014 Maman Screams
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 5:00 PM UTC
If you've wondered why I shy from bathing in your eyes
-it's because I'm terrified of where you'll drain me.
Refraining
Abstaining
From explaining why my brain chains itself to the thought of you.
The thought of you-
Remains coursing through my veins like heavy doses of *******
I can not restrain the rain that steadily maintains its downfall along the inner walls of my thighs
If I jump inside your eyes,
Will you bathe me?
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 7:38 AM UTC
Hugging the devil, refraining from the Lord:
Filling my hollow and empty life, the gourd
Of my soul, up with the mirth of lechery;
Making frenzied fortune from debauchery,
While the account of my heart is credited
With slush happiness: full, yet never sated.
Lured by diverse lusts; rain do not up fill
A basket. Man is vapid outside God's will.
Aug 15, 2012
Aug 15, 2012 at 3:27 AM UTC
Who shall remain to speak of Eden sleeping?
When gone the earth, our splendid garden
left of backward dreaming
and all the glorious twisty tendril reaches
vines to cling to life, anew the greening seasons
Alone the fields in September shades, grains
of wheat and rye will not play, of fall's refraining
or sing the cat birds strange meowing
Once rows and rows, the fields flowed,
fed heavenly our daily bread
before the GMOs
Unearthly - sick the flocks afield
no bees about, the headless flowering yields
all the gifts, the seeds of life cannot be found again
we've decimated Eden
http://www.greenmedinfo.com/blog/dows-deadly-harvest-return-agent-orange
There's hope:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6P03nNeYiJo&feature;=related
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 10:13 PM UTC
“Wind, the continuous movement of Air is the link between all realms & dimensions carrying every form of communication from musical quarks to the sounds of silence”. Poet
<~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~>
Wind, Angelic Air ! Beloved of my Sun sign
I listen to bellows pounding sea rock boulders
circling my spine in sharp dagger kisses divine
I listen to you penetrating my marrow
swirl icy chiming voice through mottled skin
pulling hair, ********* throat uncensored ….
my parched lips open as you rip dry logs
to hear red ants scattering into darkened holes
trolls vacantly watch wind arms across my shoulders
I hold dripping amber, as you raucous relay
score, hungry vultures and swallows chorus adore
I walk songs, you unbutton word flames refraining
dead locusts fall in wind tone lyrics whirling
Beloved ! be still that I may touch your *****
feel cold notes ripple between your crescendos
stroke your quavers, obedient to your baton
soul bowing to your transmuting crotchets
all I hear as you settle into playful breezes
a teasing drama complete, is “I Love You” !
Sep 9, 2025
Sep 9, 2025 at 6:28 AM UTC
The sun has risen,
The aims are set.
The road is known,
The bag is packed.
Standing in the doorway,
I am stopped in my shoes,
Around me, something swoons.
This is what I wanted.
This is what I needed.
Today, I know where and how to get it, still
My mind is playing games.
The night has draped the sky,
I stand on the terrace, up so high.
My breathing is quick,
The wind is washing my face,
Self-loathing has left no trace.
I hold the trophy right now,
I have achieved my aims somehow.
I should celebrate and I am, but
I know it is not the beer, then why
My mind is playing games.
I am surrounded with loving people,
I have nothing to worry about.
Situations aren’t so bad either.
A normal day I am living,
No big decisions to make.
Simple chores I am doing,
Why life seems no easy cake?
I know the life I want to live,
I know it is no easy **** still
My mind is playing games.
It is not that I cannot do it.
It is not that I don’t have enough passion.
It is not that I am refraining from doing my bit.
It is not that my thoughts are not in fashion.
A breath of the freshest air,
A shower of the coolest water,
A hand of the loveliest heart,
A peaceful moment of the most peaceful.
This is all I need, where my mind is paying all heed.
This is how it will stop the games, and
I will rise to the aimed fames.
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 3:47 AM UTC
i need to stop
this silly infatuation
but as much as i try hard
on refraining myself
from liking you
it wouldn't seem to go away
Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 10:01 PM UTC
Time is flying towards infinity
As an unknown operating system.
I'm losing programs from my machine
C drive is formatting without command
I'm a tree beside the street
and time is walking in front of me
I'm screaming on and on without sound
refraining without barricade.
Sorrow is a small virus dark blue
spreading spores into my blood
On the dining table a dream
or a yellowish green apple
Putting head under a sharp knife
to slice thickly as salad!
What is existing or non-existing
nothing can be shared
No pains can be measured
Is there anything beyond feelings?
Any flower sweet and unseen?
Any moon within clouds?
I'm losing pockets from my shirt;
Coins from wallet, spaces from hard drive...
Poem 13
Book 'Beckoning Jade-Dreams' April 2007
Copyright Musharrat Mahjabeen
Mizan Publishers, Dhaka, Bangladesh
ISBN 984-8700-82-X
Aug 20, 2012
Aug 20, 2012 at 8:07 AM UTC
Despite people constantly explainings music theory
I’ve never quite grasped the concept
Of different keys.
Because to me
Something would feel sharp and
Fall flat but
Be all too natural to you
And I had difficulty trying to articulate what I meant to say
Because we had such an interesting dynamic
And dissonance is positive when done correctly,
Right?
Constantly, you played chords on my heart strings
Like the threads wound tightly against the pegs on your guitar.
Beautifully
But never gently
Rarely slow
With some fascinating sort of
Passion
But not always the kind that I understood
And despite believing that your interest was genuine
I sometimes wondered if you got as much of a rush from
Holding the curves of that wooden body close to you
As you did from thriving on the attention that you got
When people saw that you had the skill
To manipulate something ordinary into something unique.
And I’ll admit
It got into my head
And caused me to fret
Refraining from over-analysis
Has never been my forte.
But somehow we always managed to bridge the gap
That our differences created
And accented the qualities that really made us harmonious.
Hoping you would not hesitate to
Pick me and
Bend me and
Guard me and
Let the notes ring loud and frenzied and
Place your hands
Along my neck
To let me be the fine-tuned
Instrument
Of your affection.
With lungs andante
And a heartbeat accelerando
I’d leave it up to you to conduct
A tempo.
While the melody lead us
In an entanglement of musical phrases and lyrical nonsense
That all came together.
I suppose.
But don’t ask me why,
I never understood music theory
I just know what I like to hear.
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 1:04 AM UTC
Years have passed,
Seasons have changed.
Am I an adult yet?
Couldn't say.
Relate?
While pain was brief,
And a cleanse was needed,
I still grow more and do my best to succeed.
Did I pay a bill?
Is it in the budget?
Swear to God I could go for a 20 piece McNugget.
While I shift and work it out,
I'll still ask myself am I good enough?
When isn't your mind...
What kind...
Don't lie...
Stop.
Take a breathe and it's going to be all fine.
Is my flow still the same?
Is my expression more better?
Does it make any sense to you that im still explaining and continuously refraining from resaying a word by rearranging the framing of this here decree I'm declaring?
No, not really.
With exercises and breakdowns,
I've seen it in better ways.
Still in chains,
But looser around the brains.
It's taken time,
But I'm finally in control...
I'm getting used to... New.
Jun 14, 2021
Jun 14, 2021 at 1:27 AM UTC
Shatter the walls of the mime’s hold
Let the riots speak of the crime
The lie, the story never told.
The decimated morals of our fathers,
Disregarded, maligned and deemed untrue.
These men in charge choose not to care
To meet the demands of our due.
The new power has risen.
Already seeming long in the tooth.
Reminiscing of the old ways,
Where nothing could replace our cherished youth.
Ravaged cities fall to the greed.
The people corrupted within.
Mesmerized, refraining from our old creed.
So spawn something new.
Become the voice of the voiceless.
Hold in your soul and breed the castoffs.
Find the kindness we’ve never found,
Our pillars of faith,
That kept our spirits so sound.
Retreat from their molds, let it out
Forsake those rituals and let them down with ease.
Make your own way, leave no doubt.
Don’t be the drone, cease the stall
Because like it or not
Permanence is the death of us all.
Jul 31, 2011
Jul 31, 2011 at 7:13 PM UTC
On weekends it would yell at me
Would tell me to get out and set myself free
Ask, aren't you tired of all day glaring at a pc?
During the week it would not complain
Glad that I went back to abuse my phone again
Doesn't mind when I still use it every now and then
My laptop would thank me once again
Says through wires I hear other lappys complain
Their owners eat & drink on top of them with abuse
Thus usually spill, water, coffee and juice
Which seeps through, making them go haywire
For refraining from that, I truly admire
Two more favours I need to ask
You know my battery is always dying
You have to plug me, always while sighing
So would you finally scratch something on your to do list
Get that battery and give the both of us some rest
Plus,you know my temperature always gets high
And with summer here , I'm sure to fry
so seriously ,a cooler for me, you really must buy
You know I have all your life within me
Whether videos,pictures ,chat logs or poetry
Your past ,present & the future that makes you eager
Are in me entrusted,I am your secret keeper
Except when your brother's curiosity gets filled to the brim
That's when things get out of my hand, and you have to blame him
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 1:47 AM UTC
my life is not beautiful.
it just is and that is enough.
refraining from falling
into the hopelessness I've created,
that prison of my own manufacture.
I put water over the stove
and sit in this carcass
while I myself,
a cadaver if you will,
wait for it to complace me.
the lost dreams and
suspires wander these walls
that have trapped
every abandoned hope hides
behind these eternal furniture.
how am I supposed
to thread beautifully with
all this weight? my arms
are full, with bruises and plates;
***** plates I carry on
from door to door before
running away holding more.
should I drop, let them shatter?
is it cowardice, or care for the self?
my friend has said they
are no different.
to know there is no expectation present
you mustn't know what an expectation is.
so, do you, my friend?
the flies on the still life
are agreeing with us.
do you allow them dictate
that which is beautiful, why,
when they haven't got a feeling?
do you allow me dictate
that which isn't?
tell me beauty's antonym
and I'll teach you to survive
between humans and the flies
that peck at the remains
of what once lost I retrieved,
and corrupted it came back.
on my floors the plates stay shattered
my soles bleed on every step
on the edge of hopelessness.
it is not for us; romantics,
sinners of massacre, thieves of all kinds.
lives cannot be made beautiful,
yet you found beauty in its lack.
I wanted encouragement yet only found courage—
to write, grieve, and die.
Oct 25, 2020
Oct 25, 2020 at 1:24 AM UTC
The heart recognized,
And the soul remembers.
An affair that commenced,
A love that grew and blossomed.
And yet refraining was a hopeless endeavor.
So we gave in to a moment’s splendor.
Mere touches that satisfied the yearning,
Stolen moments that lasted a life time.
As the dread of the ending nears,
With the coming of the morning
And the ending of the night
Our steps must go our separate paths.
We play the role expected of us,
Perform the duties that were assigned to us.
And the memory of you and I that once was real,
Remain in the secret folds these four walls.
Though the days seems darker,
And moving on is getting harder.
As playwrights will make new stories,
Of cherished memories of captured days.
But in every whisper of the wind,
Every rain drops that washes the pain,
I’ll be trapped in a bittersweet trance,
A reverie who's only inhabitants is me.
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 10:05 PM UTC
Lying motionless on the sofa,
eyes fixated on the gray and purple cat clock perched on the mantle,
watching apathetically as the second hand
click click clicks,
stuck in place as the hour and the minute hands
sit sit sit,
as if intentionally to keep time from passing;
sit sit sitting
lie lie lying
stuck in place,
disappointment
click click clicking
in my mind,
so debilitated that
I can't even feel the passage of time,
the clock intentionally refraining from counting minutes so are empty.
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 6:41 PM UTC
With the night
Comes coldness
Seeping in quickly
In time
Everything
Becomes darkness
A flicker of a flame
Barely serving a purpose
Silently hoping
That someone notices
The pitiful smoke signal
The slow sad light
Holds my long lost gaze
For countless moments
I am
Alone
And forever thinking so
Numb
And careless to feel again
Broken
And undeserving
Angry
At everything
Refraining from the worst
But the impulse is torture
Desperately in need
Of a body
For comfort
When suddenly
A voice
From the depth of the shadows
Calls out
"Hey"
Too low and deep
That it pokes at my imagination
The voice steps
Into the poor pitiful light
"Do you want a beer?"
Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 12:50 AM UTC
To think its even palpable
Is laughable
In papal
Purchases
Of lurching
Murderers
Searching
The versus
For versions
Viable
To the venial
Ventricles
Of vengeful animals
Toppling
The tiny trees
Just with their being
A seething species
Finding peace
In the pieces
Of enemies
Scattered in the streets
I wish i could say
There was disbelief
But i got a subscription
To weekly casket wreaths
And im singin in the rain
Refraining from profane
Crackling in the rain
Of my reign over sane
Waning in the basements
Flooded with the muck of lakes
Drained sacredly
In the same ****
I go silent
Before violent
outbursts
Squirting the words
On the wills of birds
Chirping the verbs
Of disturbing slurs
That i never heard
If asked
But im keeping you on blast
To unmask the crass
Endeavours of an ***
Fighting fire with fire
First and last to laugh
Burning blurbs on your maps
Every time your lapped
And lapsing in the trash
Itching the rash
Amassed in your lap
And slapped in the face
A disgrace to the pace
Of a space in the haste
Of wasted hate
Too late to change
Into shorts today
To show the ****
On your legs
As your girl
Cries when she begs
For me to *** in her face
But its okay
She knows her place
But do you
In the back of the line
In the grey and the blue
Whispering to you
To stay and acrue
Humility
In militant pedigrees
Of satirical phalacies
From your knees
You need me
The truth
Go ahead
Its on you
...
May 5, 2013
May 5, 2013 at 4:45 AM UTC