"refreshes" poems
Walking in the rain...
It refreshes your mind, body and soul to the point that your barriers and walls don't exist anymore.
No one can distinguish tears streaming down your face from rain drops collecting on your cheeks.
But, it makes you remember everything you've been through,
And all the pain rushes back so that you can understand that deep down it was necessary, unknown, but in someway.
Throwing yourself to the ground.
You wish it all away.
Grip you head.
Falling...
There is no more.
Not until the smell of petrichor
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 12:35 AM UTC
are you generally happy?
a semi-innocuous query
now actualized as a two sided bladed poker,
hot stabbing me smack dab in
the chests hollow crown bullseye,
continuously, as in all life long, and eternal longing for a
“yes”
it fits inside a pubescent aged wound that
refreshes with every breath;
a life long struggle for an accurate definition,
be a general of genuine happy,
that alone would deliver, bringing on bright day satisfaction
as a human, one operates on parallel continuums;
slide slipping on well oiled poles that over the years,
their lengths, increasing with add-on extender poles
formed by
twisty turny slips and falls of sundered hearts and sad loves,
marriages nicknamed Titanic, children found and lost,
complications responsibilities that are denied meeting the words
“The End”
a life that many would envy, questioning what’s wrong
with you dude, are you blinded to the riches yours,
reality is
shoulders permanently bent, a spine that’s held together by
spit and solder and curved by wearying wearing longing for
a straightness that is also called crooked unobtainable
and a piece of a peace that comes and goes
like a highway billboard that you pass too fast to be fully read
the body is corroding and worser yet to come and that’s a hand
you selected - luck of the self-selecting-drawing -
the opioids of the mind offers are rejected
the clarity of painful self exploration valued overall -
the place where the poems come from,
and go to die,
a landscape of a scene repeatedly visualized
but never been and never left,
the crazy contradictions come in two flavors;
vanilla smiles and chocolate weeping of tears that have
etched pathways cheek-chiseled
the city is a struggling strife for most,
the next red line on the side
of the measuring cup and
everyone has a cell, a credit card,
and a measuring cup
<•>
here I stop can’t finish
someone missing alerts me
to their real worlds troubles
making my complaints super superficial but
the silent running of the stilleto
cuts shallow
repeated hourly
the cut color,
pitch black
May 26, 2018
May 26, 2018 at 2:05 PM UTC
her milk is him
her eyes are full of good tidings,
washing my body with lavender soap cake,
all the dirt crumbs of a hard life drained
into a circle of holes that carry away carings,
to places where their squeaking can’t be heard
her hands, pillows for a head so sorrow-weighty,
her body, her hips, a bed upon to rest,
and he wonders,
how did he exist before she become his nest,
her hair of grass, now, a coverlet for twigs and strings,
when then he laid his body down for disturbed sleep
her milk is him, a restorative that refreshes his content,
how did, once upon a time, he let existence subtract
his time on earth without any relativity, time unrecognizable,
he was in no one place, pathless, subsidizing nothing,
unable to distinguish tween the straight and the curved
her milk in him, whitens his soul, she calls out,
“*you are my shepherd, my king, my David,
my white marble sculpture of our current existence,
when you drink the white of me, it is I who is fulfilled,
when you write of me, your milk is me*”
May 26, 2019
May 26, 2019 at 4:39 PM UTC
My love is like the healing rain in spring
That falls softly to nourish the earth
She refreshes my sad weary spirit
And brings my lonely soul peace and rebirth
My love is like the warm summer sunshine
That caresses the flowers into bloom
She is fire she is alive with passion
Her presence dispels dark from my room
My love is like the wild wind of autumn
A tempest that strips the leaves from the trees
Restless and haunting she walks in my dreams
Always searching I know not what she seeks
Ah but when the chill of winter abides
She will come home then to be by my side
May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 9:38 AM UTC
Nothing ever comes close to my love for coffee. Not even my love for shoes, music, and photography combined.
I love my coffee during those hectic stretches of time when games and school exams and deadlines are held in the same weeks.
I love my coffee during the all-nighters and sleepless nights to keep up with everything going on.
I love my coffee during those sleepy and low energy moments after the early morning trainings.
I love my coffee during the days I am running late in my first period classes because I may have overslept.
I love my coffee during the hangover mornings after those wild drinking parties.
I love my coffee during the random and spontaneous hangouts at cafés.
I love my coffee during the long roadtrips with family or teammates.
I love my coffee early in the morning and late at night. I love my coffee at any time of the day.
I love my coffee for its sweet and intoxicating aroma. Just a sniff and it already feels like I am at home.
I love my coffee served hot that it reaches deep into the soul. I love my coffee served cool that it refreshes and chills the soul.
I love my coffee for the energy it brings me. I love my coffee for making my heart beat faster.
All of that swiftly changed when I met her. In just a short moment of time of exchanging the most basic informations between us.
I do not love her but she gets me through those hectic stretches of time.
I do not love her but she helps me keep up with everything and keeps me up at night.
I do not love her but she shares her energy with me after the early morning trainings.
I do not love her but she patiently waits for me for my first period classes whenever I oversleep.
I do not love her but she takes care of me during and after those wild drinking parties.
I do not love her but she keeps up with all my spontaneity.
I do not love her but she loves long drives and adventures herself.
I do not love her but she is always there for me no matter what, when, and where.
I do not love her but she really smells so nice every time. I do not love her but she feels like home.
I do not love her but she knows me so well including my deepest, darkest secrets. I do not love her but I always find myself looking forward to chilling out with her.
I do not love her but she really inspires me. I do not love her but she makes my heart beat faster.
Nothing ever came close to my love for coffee. Until I met her.
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 5:03 AM UTC
What happens as love finds new life
Within ones heart in a genuine way
When a beautiful treasure blossoms
One which takes inner breath away
What happens when life given words
Refreshes a heart and deeply instills
The blessing of a Loves sweet reality
Whose spiritual touch is always real
What happens as moments are shared
When spoken words bring one to pray
Leaving such a spiritual loveliness
Which in a heart will forever stay
What happens as sweet joy comes alive
Making one to feel they are never alone
When in their heart and spirit is found
Seeds of a precious love finding a home
There is a genuine selfless love existing
When shared it continues to blossom more
Especially when it's bliss is heaven-sent
We find each day it refuses to be ignored
For my heart listens to Your smiles voice
Each morning Lord as Your love awakens me
Embracing me with Your precious happiness
As I praise You for the gift I received.
Oct 24, 2015
Oct 24, 2015 at 10:09 PM UTC
You are my sun, the planets and the asteroids in between,
actually, make that the energy that embraces the sun,
the elements and trace elements that make up each planet...
(Oh, my stars!)
You are each perfect petal that unfurls ever so slowly in the morning light,
actually, make that the light that kisses each dew drop which
awakes each petal with that sweet kiss...
(Oh, blush, my buzzing bee!)
You are that raindrop that refreshes my parched soul that's stranded in a desert,
actually, make that the mirage that proves to be an oasis
as my eyes widen in wonderment with the reality of You.
(Oh, shucks, my sweet breath!)
You are my golden compass whenever I get lost in the wilderness,
actually, I wouldn't mind getting lost, if it means
that I get lost in your soulful, beautiful eyes Forever
(Oh, you cheeseball, you!!)
You are the chocolate ganache frosting on that chocolate cake,
actually, you are the powdered sugar on my honey-dipped doughnut
that brushes my lips, the perfect complement for hot, hot coffee
(Oh, honey bun!!)
You are the--
Sweetcakes??
You are the freshly ground pepper that dusts softly on my carbonara, I'm just
Ahem!!!!
You are the freshly ground pepper that dusts softly on my carbonara,
actually it would be bland and incomplete without you and---
Hey, babe!
huh?!
*I'm on dense mode right now, what are you really trying to say?
Come on, spill it, I NEVER hear it from you...*
Ummm, ummm...I...I...
I mean, I--
Out with it, come on!! You can do it---"I...."
Hoo! Ok, I...
I can do this---
I...
(Note to self: This is IT!!!!!)
I--
Yesss...?!!
I
am
the empty, wanting glass and you are the refreshing drink that fills me up,
actually,--
***~BOINKKKKKkkK~ !! I'm walking away now!!
Geez, if you can't say IT without all the Fluffy, duffy, Fluff,
see me walking away for now...I need the Skinny, the skeleton!
Sometimes one just needs to Hear it, you know?!
Oh, and I love you,in case you didn't know...but see me walk!***
Hey, honey bunny, smoochie sweetie pie?
...still walking away~~~~
I...
huff, huff, huff~~
I am walking towards you...
Huff, puff, puff and hufff~! (note to self: Walk on, walk on...)
I said I'm walking towards you...
~bump~!
and
I...
Love
You.
Apr 9, 2012
Apr 9, 2012 at 1:09 PM UTC
The fog is sweet. It envelopes my being, and it calms my nerves. Its obscurity awakens my senses. Always on my toes, I am alert. This mist, it refreshes my soul. Once more, I am young in search of danger. The fog, it draws me in. I cannot fight it and I won’t. It beckons my name, and it knows who I am. The shroud opens. I enter it, the fog. It swallows me whole. I will never return. For in this abyss, I feel alive. I crave life and life craves me.
May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 7:28 PM UTC
Love’s happiness and laughter lives within me
It refreshes my body with precision and finesse
Bringing to my mind such exhilarating beauties
Filling my heart daily with an exquisite bliss
This delight I find brings from within me
What young loves most times often find to be
For my love springs forth sweet joyous notes
Which form such enchanting pulsating melodies
So pleased am I with this new life I daily live
Sharing it with one in whom my heart believes
And I will place within her my wholesome trust
Knowing my heart she will never seek to deceive
I existed in my life as one before meeting her
Yet the whole of me will always now live as two
For she is the better half which God promised
Who in my life would help my dreams come true
For ever since the days when I was a young child
When on my knees to the Lord I would always pray
I knew He would surely answer my many prayers
Bringing forth special joys to bless all of my days
So the tender joy of loves happiness lives in me
Refreshing my heart with such precision and finesse
While adding to my life many heavenly moments
Which will fill my heart daily with a perfect bliss.
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 7:46 PM UTC
Everything that I think about lately are Me, Myself, and I.
I have wasted a lot of my time to think about anything and anyone until the time I cannot even think of myself.
Right now, all I need is just a solitude.
On a green grass field I’m lying down.
I’m looking at cotton-like cloud above me.
It’s so white, it refreshes my ***** mind.
I’m looking at the bright-blue colored sky. So blue,
It makes me think, “is it sea or ocean that I’m looking at?”
I’m looking at the biggest star in the world: Sun.
It’s so bright it makes me squint my eyes.
Wait, why am I seeing two suns?
They are both bright and warm:
I can feel the warmth of one sun on my skin– it melts my sweat. and ridiculously
I feel another sun’s warmth in my eyes– it melts my heart.
Am I going crazy?
It’s impossible if earth has two suns.
Unless, the other sun is called ‘you’.
It’s possible.
Ah,
I’m so pleased to meet you,
Mr. Sun of the green grass field.
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 8:47 AM UTC
I used to eat ice cream on a pretty strict and regular schedule.
The anticipation for those designated nights consumed my naive mind.
Now,
on the nights that used to mean sweet, supple mounds of delicious bliss,
however brief,
I drink Missouri water from a thick, old, dusty glass.
As I tip the last drops into my mouth,
I see a mysterious stain (or is it a clump?) on the bottom.
Fortunately, I think to myself,
whatever that was didn't get into me.
Water runs through.
It cleans out.
It leaves nothing behind but undesireable water spots
in sinks and on windshields
mascara lines tracking down cheeks to squeeze between pushed up *****
and dead worms on the sidewalk,
evicted by the flood of this
life-giving,
breath-taking
rain,
waves,
that drink when your lips are cracking and you feel as if your mouth is filled with cotton,
when you look at a ***** puddle and think,
my GOD am I thirsty.
Ice cream melts in the mouth.
It refreshes in the heat of summer,
it teases the tongue with sugar and milk and so many seductive flavors.
It's best on special occasions,
even though it's desired all the time.
Sometimes it can be bought with the change found on a scavenger hunt in a car,
and other times,
it can't.
But even as the frozen delight slides off your tongue and into your stomach,
your tastebuds tremble at the lack of sweet.
They spite you with a bitterness and a dry, sticky feeling,
and your teeth feel coated with a grime you can't seem to lick off.
You keep wiping at your lips,
for you can't shake off the notion that you got some of the experience on your face.
I'm not even going to mention the calorie content of what you just downed.
And sometimes,
if you're like me,
too much can make you choke.
Your throat and lungs seem to be tucked within a terrifyingly tight Chinese finger,
and each spoonful is a desperate attempt to escape
only to fall farther into a trap I like to call
love.
May 3, 2012
May 3, 2012 at 9:45 PM UTC
Dos cervezas por favor in De K’ffe,
Cold bite of the first beer refreshes.
Una mas and workday fades to dull,
The night feels bright and hopeful,
The Palitos de pollo satisfies hunger.
Conversation flows to Cepas de Altura,
Three bottles later the stories repeat,
Groundhog day of interesting lives,
With eternal friendship in every bottle.
Six corks line up like truth bullets,
In an aggression of arguments,
Maybe he has just said too much,
Friendship of an unremembered hug,
Next day sorry and failings forgotten.
Dec 29, 2010
Dec 29, 2010 at 9:24 AM UTC
Hogbetsotso is once again with us,
But I have not yet found my arm,
She is on her way once again,
Oh yes, I must know the truth
Behind her lovely convex hips,
When was she hatched?
For the merchants have not yet
Arrived with their good news,
Can anyone behold the Volta
Lake trembling at her sweet voice?
Can anyone behold her divine blackness
Brightening the hearts of the
Men upon the horizon of Dzodze?
The chief priest is said to have hidden
This truth from the ancestors,
For her hymns are nothing
But eternal love and beauty,
Now see how green and glorious
Her savoury dusky bark looks,
Are the naked Gods permitted to
Create a beauty like unto her image?
My imagination cannot even define
The secret behind her beauty,
Neither can a basket full of words
Betray my secret thoughts of her,
For the beads around her waist
Has been a snare to great kings,
She is an Ewe indeed,
Daehafi, the exceptional beauty
That brightens the watching sun,
The mighty wind that refreshes
My fearless daily hopes,
In fact, her precious eyes flashes
Glaring fire with her breath of flame,
My dear Daehafi,
Go and persuade the sea wave
Not to break into pieces,
And kiss me once again,
A last long kiss,
Until I draw your soul within
My plum lips and
Drink down all your love,
In fact, she is the only prim
And proper Black beauty that
Weighs her love before
Given out her heart.
© PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI
Email: [email protected]
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 7:02 AM UTC
full of anxiety
don't know what to do
take a pause that refreshes ~ and ask
what would my soul do?
fear is disabling
I feel like fleeing or fighting
take a pause that refreshes ~ and ask
what would my soul do?
anger is so powerful
it builds up to implode or explode
take a pause that refreshes ~ and ask
what would my soul do?
I have a habit
that keeps repeating itself
take a pause that refreshes ~ and ask
what would my soul do?
My habit is still there
do I beat myself up?
take a pause that refreshes ~ and ask
what would my soul do?
it takes practice and compassion
to engage our soul
take a pause that refreshes ~
as we allow our soul to grow
Nov 15, 2010
Nov 15, 2010 at 6:01 AM UTC
The sun beams down lighting up my face and warming my skin
Coaxing my eyes shut to leave the physical world
Letting the natural world fill my veins
The wild wind refreshes my lungs
Replenishing my whole inner being
My mind goes to a wonderful place to take a break from the ever crazy reality
My body begins to weigh down sinking into earths comforting ground
Natures lullaby soothes me to drift off into unconsciousness
The land of dreams and wonderful things, hopefully
With nature surrounding me and cloaking me in divine bliss
Only allowing the subconscious to bring to life beautiful scenes
Flowered trees, fields of green, skies painted picture perfect blue, the air smells and tastes of honeydew, birds sing along to natures tune, the rivers move to the beat of Mother Nature’s heart
A natural awakening brings back my soul from its deep sleep
Slowly uprooting my body from Mother Natures’ loving grasp
She infused me with her energy to help me through the unnatural world we live in
I can't wait for the sun to coax me again to close my eyes and appreciate her beautiful essence once more
Nov 8, 2012
Nov 8, 2012 at 12:54 AM UTC
I love fresh air.
It clears my thoughts,
Chills my lungs and
Refreshes my ideas.
The freshest air I've ever felt,
Was the draft that entered when you walked out.
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 1:48 PM UTC
Ice chilled glass of lemonade,
Refreshes from inside, the soul.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 10:48 AM UTC
mine own psalm musings
*living between two broad, sea-emptying rivers,
a Majesty’s sentries to mark the differentiation~
division tween divine and a moderate human’s
moderating steps, as his stride shortens as the y/tears
lengthen, and it is accepted as an inevitable musky must,
no matter how the sweet spring day refreshes, the newly
planted trumpeting shards of bright yellows daffodils
pinch his yellowing eyes, few notice the tiny tears of
discrepancies of an annualized emboldening, a grand
heavenly rebirth and a slow man’s body self~editing,
shedding of a life’s~ending~of~story psalm musings*
*the man looks for the terrible swift sword, but its
failure to grace us with an appearance, is but a
modest disappointment, for a deferred delay is but
a causation to eke out a few mordant, pungent, caustic
reminders of all that is yet to be, to be accomplished,
though the smirking lips of the necessity of yet, one
more unloved poem extant, tilting the Earth’s axis
benevolently toward the open palms of his beneficiaries who*,
you,
*are among them numbered, is but, a green shoot in a city’s
hopeful earth planted, by summer, will shed seeds to come
thy way, as an evocation, a good consternation, a joyous
provocation, an asking kingly~gentle, a royal polite inquiry,
would you care to add a a verse to this eternal verse?
before time shreds it too into a yellowed crumpling,
and to the earth it is returned, for the mine of this
psalms is only generic, genetic, and what is mine is well,*
and truly yours too.
nml
<>
March 31, 2024
NYC
9:16am
Sunday Mourning Service
Mar 31, 2024
Mar 31, 2024 at 9:25 AM UTC
Do sleepless nights yield heavy thoughts?
Or do the synapses firing prohibit silent slumber?
Neural highways at traffic jam capacity
Rush hour never ends when I retire
Electrical signals consistently skip and zip
Awake or asleep, thinking or dreaming
Mystifying visions of past, present and future
Entertain the brain while the body refreshes
A blissful recollection of pure jubilation
Transitions the mind into sweet meditation
My alarm becomes a synaptic disturbance
The ears at the receiving end of the siren
Alert, alive, living
But exhausted from the Prednisone Curse
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 3:24 PM UTC
Sitting on my back porch,
Hemet in April once again,
My garden abloom:
Bright reds and orange,
Purple, blues & white, &
Of course, green everywhere.
Last night in her loving arms,
A tune still fresh this morning—
Background music in my mind.
(The Pointer Sisters - Slow Hand - YouTube Artist: The Pointer Sisters
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pnVOt2LK2Gg Album: Black & White Released: 1981 Full lyrics on GooglePlay Nominations: Grammy Award for Best Pop Performance by a Duo or Group with Vocals)
($Ka-Ching! Ka-Ching!$
The poet finally figuring out
How To Make Poetry Pay:
Sell ad space right in the middle
Of the ******* poem!$)
Lyrics: **“I want a man with a slow hand/
I want a lover with an easy touch/
I want somebody who will spend some time/
Not come and go in a heated rush…”**
Did Anita Pointer ever ******* nail it?
An instructional instruction manual for men,
What women really want,
Never so explicably explained:
**“It’s the **** Stupid!”**
McLuhan: the massage is the message,
Literally, cliterally,
The Pause That refreshes.
(The Pause That Refreshes - More Than A Minute morethanaminute.com/ the-pause-that-refreshes. Coca Cola first introduced this marketing slogan more than 80 years ago. If you ask me, they were way ahead of their time. More & ...”
$Ka-Ching, Babaloo!$
Apr 2, 2016
Apr 2, 2016 at 3:04 PM UTC
A sunny day lifts hearts from grief and gloom;
I like the rays of warmth and skies of blue.
But in our words of praise, let’s leave some room
for light cast by the sky of grayish hue.
The even light suffuses everything--
no glare to blind us and no shadows cast.
The clarity that cloudy skies can bring
illuminates a future landscape vast.
A chillier breeze refreshes our attention,
and neutral gray reveals the depth and lines.
The way is clear and acts have more intention;
perception heightened, visible are signs.
Sunny days, for picnics and for beaches--
I’ll take the grey for what the soft light teaches.
May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 11:10 PM UTC
The ravels in my sleeve of care
Grow longer every night-
Especially in the morning
When I struggle back to sleep
From waking up too early
Only to be bushwhacked
By brigades of unsolved problems,
Battalions of frustration
And whole Armies of defeatment
Marching out to meet me.
While you’re asleep your secret mind
Is solving all the puzzles
That unhinge the hours when you’re awake
And dodging slings and arrows.
That is the scholar’s promise.
That is what the con men say
In psychiatric clinics
Where they write the books
Explaining what it means to fly
And why we never land when falling.
Sleep refreshes and renews-
At least that is the theory.
It’s not supposed to wear you out
And beat you down while dreaming
Out the scripts you didn’t write.
When the raveling is complete
And both my sleeves have come undone
Will I dream of flowered fields
And happy times, successes and rewarding
Or will it end and I no longer dream at all.
ljm
Apr 9, 2017
Apr 9, 2017 at 1:37 AM UTC
A solitude park in the middle of the night
A time where I feel at ease
When the last people hurry their way home
I stroll about until I finally settle down
On a bench faintly illuminated
By the cold light of a distant streetlamp
The coldness of the night refreshes my mind
Comforting me, calming my nerves
I become increasingly conscious
Able to focus on my surroundings
Letting my mind and thoughts wander
As I am closing my eyes I can sense
Faded voices in the distance
The gentle breeze upon my skin
And the lingering scent of rain
Jul 7, 2021
Jul 7, 2021 at 7:15 PM UTC
All men are born heavy.
We do not inherited this weight
But seize the heaviness of the earth
Upon ourself.
Obligations and connections one can not ignore.
I am not yet light like you.
Floating from place to place.
Uncannily light so that you may travel
To even the moon and back.
Travel refreshes the eyes
But it is my heaviness -
that prevents lunar travel.
To ignore what roots me to the ground
would be to act falsely light.
But you are truly rootless.
Born lighter than a feather -
how can you be so unnatural?
Unlike you, I will have to earn my lightness.
But even then my body will still be heavy
But not lightless.
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 4:23 AM UTC