"regretfully" poems
Trying to find solace in the suburbs
when everything seemed superb
like that cookie-cutter,
picket fence,
faux fur mentality
they instill at the start
Just an infant with scars
He reached for her baby bump,
Then slammed it hard
onto the stairwell
She fell, wept, and held
That lil princess
and prayed she'd never have the same hell
All grown up. Alive and well
shes got different demons
different intricate cells
It's been said
she is special she is awake
But, in many ways
She is the same
As that ANGEL who carried her 23 years ago
That's debt I'll always owe
A gift I'll never own
Carefully Constructed
and Creatively Sewn
shoved a soul into that shell
That'll one day guide her back home
Shes got her mamas tough, yet gentle heart
her smile, brevity and love for art..
she can write her *** off
like her
the wrote and the writ
Yet she's plagued by guilt
every ******* minute
GUILT for the life that she'd been given
GUILT for each exhale emitted
She prays that God will have the sense
to go back in time and hit OMIT
(on all chapters even close to the word 'human'
there's GUILT for feeling guilty even more for despising your own )
"I must've slipped through the gate, admit it!
Or recruit another for your mission
regretfully, I must solicit
that I'm not fit for this position
I'm no hero
I'm the villain
If ya look close you'll see
I spit venom"
Mama walks in
smiles and says
"WE.
ARE.
WOMEN!"
"Betta recognize and
quit your bitchin'
as of today, you are living..
You are loved
You are safe
You are ************* winning
WARRIOR,
CREATOR,
QUEEN,
GODDESS,
INCARNATE..
We are strength & We are the faith
never to be broken
but we still stay brave
The Legend wont start
or end with you
Its a fight stretched out
through time
You will understand soon
No matter how much you ask
"WHY"
It wont stop circumstance
wont stop lies
wont stop suffering
and will NEVER compromise
Your in the way of the wave, child
This..... the secret to life
When in the way of the wave...
its only a matter of time
S0 if youre searching for solace
Will you promise
To memorize this line
Mar 9, 2018
Mar 9, 2018 at 3:54 AM UTC
“You are not an artist.
You are not an artist.”
What photos must I shoot
How many cigarettes must I smoke
It is scary, but - I want to embody the things which destroy minds
Summer vibes feel like radiation
Use this alcohol to eradicate
The proposition - that I will be ‘okay’
My phone is on airplane mode
My ambition is floating - as a feather might -
Down to the depths
I cannot finish my own sentences
Bury my expectation with my religion
And it’s funny
Because I have resolved my mind to avoid romantic
confrontation
But, alas - I do day-dream
Of a girl’s face & hair - for it has appeared in my dreams four
times
And I awake to Deja-Vu as her face appears in conscious
frames
So…
I can imagine & I can see, but - they have become one in the same
Could not fantasize asking
Your hand in mine
Oh how I wish to cry
To sob in any light so long as you are in sight
Someone to reassure me, that - yes
“There is an end to the night.”
But I cannot. I suppress it in drives. In music videos. In writing. In self-speaking when I have only me to keep company.
Kick me off the team.
I do not know what I need.
If I could lead, as I once did.
But I have left concern in the refrigerator
With empty bottles & cans
Maybe I will return tomorrow to salvage the cents of my malleable integrity
Won’t you reliquinish me of it ?
For I have sipped the poison of honesty
Regretfully it tastes like honey
Lustful - Fleeting - Sugary - Intoxicating
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 12:38 AM UTC
*The only person
I've continuously lied to,
Is myself - regretfully.
By Lady R.F ©2016*
Dec 13, 2016
Dec 13, 2016 at 8:08 AM UTC
There once was a black man... Old at heart, he fought verbally and accordingly with bold words, which abbreviated and arbitrated great art! He spoke of activism. Not just racial, and economic racism. He fought against demonic injustices for you, yes, made me see. He stood for principles of non-violence. Acknowledged corrupt government
mileage, European knowledge and college. A philosopher, teacher
and preacher as well as a civil rights leader. When he spoke his words of fire indeed chiseled and inspired. Causing some to conspire and also perspire! Born January 15th 1929 in Atlanta, Georgia. Named in honor of the German protestant Martin Luther. Bachelor of Arts
degree in sociology. Making a mark in doctoral studies, systematic theology. June 5th 1955 This King married Corretta Scott in Heiberger,
Alabama for many to see. Proceeding with four children: Yolanda, Martin Luther the 3rd to be! Dexter Scott and Bernice to increase the peace. Despite the European police, the movements and stressed
protests, the silence, ****** and racial violence. The segregation and interrogations in force, instead of integration of course. Black mishaps, lack of differences in relapse perhaps! Plagiarized and slandered, demised by some of the wise. Accused of communistic ties. Blinded
by others’ eyes and of our world’s twisted lies. Montgomery, Georgia
bus boycott, 1955 was the year. However, forever in disguise, our fear of tears was apparently adhered. From here to near, also all those dear. Mere letters he wrote, from Birmingham jail I quote! From the slums, some of sums, hail and prevail! A creation prevailing into a deriving and thriving nation. Mr. King’s vision of a dream, mission,
opposition, optimism and truism, on our wars, welfare and more. I suppose this sounds honest and fair. Mr. King’s theories and worries in emotionalism, evangelism, humanitarianism, racism and socialism. Nobel Peace Prize won in 1964. Regretfully, you may have heard of this before. Government conspiracies and indecencies. Assassination
and discrimination, allegedly, by James Earl Ray. On April 4th, I
almost choke, because for him, his blood did soak. Some thought this **** was a thrill or forced by will. Others still procrastinate in hate! However, forever Martin Luther King was and still is one of the late greats.
Mar 26, 2012
Mar 26, 2012 at 12:53 PM UTC
I'm really enjoying this little beer,
Each sip doth speaketh un to me.
The green tint glass seems so sincere,
As if the bottle also ponders me.
And when I finish this little beer,
I'll roll a smoke regretfully.
As the bottle sits so empty clear,
It's label will plead its identity.
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 4:50 PM UTC
She often thought that, in a morbid way, loving someone was like death.
The parts of yourself that you reveal and give, wrapped in silver tinsel and flowered paper, can be broken, stolen, or returned worse for wear.
Sometimes love waters the beautiful parts of people, allowing them to grow and twine their way into everyone’s smile. However, the same effect can be gained by the famine that rejection brings, drying the beautiful parts until they are no more than the
husk of the darkest humanities seeping into snarls.
What makes love dangerous, is the allure of how easily you could get hurt, rejected, tossed carelessly aside, or broken, but you’re taking a chance on another human being having the compassion not to abandon you in the gutter along with every other heart they have wrung dry.
The trees we carve with hearts and initials are almost like our tombstones, waiting for the date to be scribed underneath, of when he stopped loving her eyes or she stopping drying his tears.
Our memories are deposited regretfully at the sites we have marked with our love, the diner where he first saw her drinking coffee, the library where they shared their first kiss, the grassy patch where they lounged and discussed their children and wedding. The memories and emotions we leave in these places are the fragrant lilies and roses stained with our tears that we drop at the grave site; allowing ourselves to be overcome with the sting of losing someone forever.
After you lose the emotional connection with someone that can rarely be re-forged, you go through the grieving process that’s special and selective for every individual. The length and intensity of the grieving stages varying on amount of betrayal, nostalgia, affection, broken trust, and anger that came with the initial passing. Sometimes it’s the denial stage that clings, your mind intent that they will walk back into your life next Tuesday like a maelstrom hasn’t wreaked your lives.
So, in a morbid way, she often thought that loving someone was like attending a funeral to look at a mirror box, with your heart nestled inside someone else’s hands.
Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 1:24 AM UTC
You don't love
me;
you love the
tip of the iceberg
that is your idea of me;
the sugar-coated mute
leading herds
of unfinished sentences
down the copious hills
of his insecurity;
the nice little writer
whose constant attempts
at legendary one-liners
are as hit-or-miss
as a sitcom still airing
far past its prime.
I possess three biomes,
or, rather, three networks
of personalities and identities.
I am much more than
the Jack Macfarland archetype
lip-syncing to Cher in the one
gay bar in town, tyrannically
governing your wardrobe,
possessing a razor-sharp wit
cast toward the backs of his community
in the form of an outdated punchline-
my work on that show
lost its Willful relevance
and Graceful naivete
years ago.
I am of the generation
fed media saturation
three four-hour meals a day,
who ingested cardboard cadavers
as if they were mother's milk
and internally mutated their
thoughts and desires
to fit the compact time frame
of 30 minutes
to settle the series' worth
of traumas and neuroses
while making it home for dinner
to stay tuned for what's
next in the lineup.
Speaking as a casualty of this
inevitable chain of events,
I regretfully declare that even
those who have seen
every episode of myself
for the past six seasons
are still light years away
from the room full of faces
unencumbered by euphemism.
Jun 27, 2010
Jun 27, 2010 at 10:59 AM UTC
I wish I have wings to fly away ... I don't have - regretfully - wings to fly away Like all birds ... I am not a bird ,but I am just a human being whose pains and whose sufferings Make him looking for anything to fly away ... I can not tolerate seeing those innocent kids dying Bitterly in front of my naked eyes Without even doing any little help To save their innocent lives ........................... I feel that I am guilty I can not afford any help , so I am looking for wings to fly away ,but All in vain ................... Yes , all in vain ...................... I am very sad ... ________________________________________________________________
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 1:12 PM UTC
Happy belated birthday
My dearly missed friend.
I'm sure you had a heavenly party
That I regretfully didn't attend.
I couldn't think of you yesterday
It still hurts to say your name.
They say time will heal the ache
But it lingers yet the same.
I say a silent prayer for your soul
And push the thought away.
Time is only a theif.
It isn't any easier today.
May 7, 2018
May 7, 2018 at 9:16 PM UTC
I draped a blanket across my window because my black curtains were allowing too much sun to file in.
I lit inscence which reminds me that I’m home, reminds me that my brother isn’t here.
I laid down, allowed my legs to stretch. Regretfully told them they were not allowed to curl up against me.
I just want to be unconscious for a little while.
I just need a rest. Only for some time, only for some time.
All of my teachers tell me that I can dig myself out of this rut that I was buried in, but they don’t know what goes on inside my head.
No one does but me and whoever is willing to listen
but no one really is
or at least, I tell myself no one really is.
Once people get to a point where they have heard your entire body saying things that make it shake and whine and cry, they build up fear.
They build up a wall. Because no one wants to take care of a shaking, whining, crying mass of anxious feelings and running mascara and bracelets that only feel comfortable if they’re on the left wrist because that body has been given everything on it’s right side and now the owner of it feels the need to repay the left.
There are wind chimes all over my floor.
I hear the sound of cars flying by my window, and birds driving by my head.
I can’t help but wonder how large the sky has gotten.
In this place, in this town, in this neighborhood, in this bed and underneath these blankets, I cannot help but feel as though the sky has shrunk around me.
I can feel its’ pressure on my chest, crushing my lungs.
This is when I go to a psychologist, and she sends me home.
I go home and I beg mother for lights that will make it look like I am surrounded by fairies, because everyone loves fairies.
I want to look up at night and realize that I’m not alone.
That these little creatures will always be there, even when I can’t see them.
But I need to be reassured that they’re real.
I need to be reassured that everything is real.
I need you to tell me you love me.
Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 8:53 PM UTC
To me you cut like
Maple leaves no shorter than a song.
This willowed turf may never be as bashful
once you've gone
perhaps
this is so beacause my heart regretfully
declared to you my adoration
marked with a hyperbole.
Forgive me what these lips will wrought
though now's no time for regret
my darling once this verse is over
you'll rue the day we met.
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 11:33 AM UTC
Revisited Merak harbor one late evening
a shape of sea fairy and colorful torches
were seen from afar , chattering calls in 4 languages. 4 squalls in once was a plage
their dancing flames asked me to come closer
I hurried along the sleepy shipyards
passing massive warehouses fenced by rusty wooden doors
giant padlocks accenting (reminded me of a fancy cocotte loaded with blingbling)
stacks of oversized containers solidly sat speechless. Sleepless.
The light of each torch lifted into the sky. Seen by another eye
1883 eruption of the Krakatau crater. 130 years later the odor of its curators
I ran closer. I fell. I laid there a while , got up and ran again.
I lost my head and missed my right foot along the way. I did not care.
When I arrived the torches were there in front of me
reincarnated into thousands inhabitants who had lost their lives
bodies covered with revolting cesspit oil
For a second they transformed into torches again. One blazing in my hands.
Regretfully, I had lost my head so I did not understand.
The fairy stared . I wasn't scared.
: come, come, …come purifying Sunda strait
dissatisfying the idiots thought it could all be fixed with tax rate
I moved toward embracing fairy arms
(Possibly, this close hugging love was only for beach-sea friends)
So, I united with the torches
A bit of a breach pushed us towards the petroleum . Demolished it all. Cannonball.
Black fog shrieking that same words : Keep up the struggle . Stay strong !
The alien residents might think I was making choices
but the fairy was leading me around
the torches reshaping the ghost-town
Chattering calls in 4 voices. 4 languages.
Yet, for the officials ears , all were still voiceless. Pointless.
(Pulo Merak - Cilegon - Indonesia )
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 12:27 AM UTC
He opened his eyes to view ***** hands regretfully in filth.
Sitting in the rain he realized it.
splish, splash, patter patter
He had made a mistake.
splish, splash, patter, patter
He kept his eyes closed believing the rain would wash the filth away.
splish, splash, patter patter
It wasn't until that moment in the rain.
He opened his eyes to view ***** hands regretfully in filth.
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 11:56 PM UTC
Unfortunately and regretfully , Two pretty hearts got broke endlessly Simply because they exaggerated life too much ... Their love was shared one day,but That ugly divorce scattered them permanently For ever and ever ... They were just a few and little sparks that That destroyed eternal love they had gained some day ,but Later everyone and everything got vanished ...
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 2:44 PM UTC
I take my shoes off at your door.
It is Christmas eve.
The walls are paper thin, and the lantern
Burns in the corner.
Silently.
The tea is bright and woody.
Cloves and cinnamon.
It seems you are a woman,
although so wan and thin
You have been so tired this year
The wind is coming in.
Regretfully.
I put my shoes back on,
and close you back with kin.
Mar 22, 2012
Mar 22, 2012 at 6:48 PM UTC
weak for your words,
at first.
then we did.
then we were.
before we weren't anymore.
broken, temporarily.
i saw
me without you, and you without me.
i saw the sun.
i was your favorite candy.
consumed quickly,
regretfully unappreciated
upon your final bite.
Dec 26, 2013
Dec 26, 2013 at 10:05 PM UTC
US President Trump declared Jerusalem to be the capital of Israel.
How brazen.
He dare not hide his allegiance with thugs, war criminals, terrorists, thieves, heartless creatures, shall I go on.
He corrupt enough to give ownership of a capital rightfully belonging to Palestine to blood thirsty Zionists.
People all over the world protesting, demonstrating, showing their resistance to Trump's nonsense for more than a week now.
Most of the protests reactionary.
Although the protests are purposeful and necessary, ongoing consistent proactive resistance is what is needed.
Regretfully is what is lacking.
Keffiyah, donned by many following Trump's wicked declaration. The garment of solidarity with an oppressed land and oppressed people & a resistance to ongoing Zionist colonialism & criminality.
Buy One, Wear One, Speak up with One. Educate with One. Avoid being reactionary with One. Be proactive with One.
Long live Al-Quds. Long live Palestine. May God always protect the Holy Land.
by Najwa Kareem
Dec 17, 2017
Dec 17, 2017 at 11:35 AM UTC
So far down
and too far gone.
Higher than life on Drunken stupidity,
Hallucination versus Reality.
Just one more drag,
choke down another swig.
Borderline absent yet in full control,
only wanted a Midnight stroll.
One I Regretfully Took...
No turning back,
Unable to hit eject,
heading full-speed down a Disaster course;
YOU having no feeling of Remorse.
Denying MY lack of restraint,
unable to stop the Inevitable.
Smooth talker from the start'
unable to protect MY heart.
Where was my brain?
Curiosity got the best of YOU,
YOU took the best part of ME.
Force-Filled and Painful,
Never been more Fearful.
Took without will,
never to return again.
Left alone to Awake,
and feel the Heart Break.
Where the hell am I?
Driving home in a daze.
Unable to comprehend.
Washing away YOUR swear for an hour;
letting MY humility devour.
Broken never to be fixed,
Five therapist deep;
trying not to fade away,
but now I can finally say...
**YOU ***** ME**
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 10:34 PM UTC
Blunt,
your words and knives.
Rounded, as
you carve out my heart
with your painful prose.
While you enter my soul
through your impiety,
I greet you remorsefully.
I greet you impossibly.
Regretfully.
Painfully.
At the gates of my humdrum heart.
Sep 30, 2012
Sep 30, 2012 at 11:35 PM UTC
To the Ginger I Met on Tinder,
I'm sorry I didn't linger
longer in your arms,
but I've known you barely
three weeks and this is crazy,
but kissing you tasted like
ice water, *not that it was too
wet cause it wasn't!*
I'm doing this all wrong,
let me start again:
You see I don't take chances
on hopeless romances.
But kissing you was electrifying
like shock therapy gone
wonderfully, horribly, *mind
numbingly*...well. So well that
I lost my mind, temporarily.
I found it, unfortunately.
I found it was very confused.
You started out as a picture
on a screen, all I knew was,
red hair, big eyes, and nice arms.
Even when you were in front of me,
arms wrapped around me,
big beautiful eyes looking
down at me full of life,
even when I could reach out
and touch you, you didn't
feel real...
Do I feel real to you?
Do you wonder how to
make your fantasy feel
like reality?
Do you wonder if you should?
When the photo starts talking
back what do we talk about?
As badly as I want to
break the laws of physics
with you, I know I can't.
Because I don't matter, to you.
Nothing can be created from nothing.
My time and energy is not destroyed
by you it is only transformed into new
understanding of my standards.
Lightening bolts will never be
enough for me, they're too dangerous
too unpredictable, I crave constancy
alongside my intimacy.
So to answer the question
I hope you're asking yourself:
Yes you are kind of an *******
but no you didn't hurt me.
Regretfully Yours,
The Blonde You Met On Tinder
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 3:59 PM UTC
Years pile up
like leaves
another winter
of
slumbering trees
The oranges
and
the rusts
oil me please
so that I
not yield
to dust
I sympathize
with the
trees and the wildlife,
left to survive
a Winter's
frost
they are the
strong,
the invincible
and on us,
that should never
be lost
I can only admire
God's strength
within them,
as I stand with
mouth agape
Nothing on this earth
has ever wowed me
more than ....
God's work
to date
The Concrete Poet
Nov 11, 2021
Nov 11, 2021 at 12:32 PM UTC
If I want my gypsy life,
My solitary dream
It does require a sacrifice,
More than I can exprime.
Car dans ma vie bohémienne,
Je dois me tenir seule
Même si mes sentiments m’amènent
À vouloir être en deux.
Je sais que dans ce jeu de rime
Je râte ; quand-même, j’essais
Car sûr mon cœur tes yeux s’impriment :
La lumière that day.
The candlelight that twirled and danced
And lit up eyes and hair
As deep inside something woke, pranced
And breathed a fresh, new air.
This was something I'd never had:
Un sentiment profond
Regretfully I leave, though sad;
Mais l'route gitane, c'est longue !
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 11:36 AM UTC
Sara L Russell 8th June 2016
_________________________________________________
Dear Sir or Madam, we regret to say
your manuscript is not quite what we need;
so therefore we're returning it today,
with all good wishes that you will succeed.
* * *
Dear [your name here] regretfully these days
we do not read submitted manuscripts;
we're mainly doing television plays
and cannot give out full critiques or tips.
* * *
"I'm sorry but our editor's away
and he's the only one for poetry
what was your name again? But I will say
we will get back to you eventually."
* * *
No news is good news, so we carry on
till everything but desperation's gone.
Jun 8, 2016
Jun 8, 2016 at 3:47 AM UTC
Regretfully crawling out of a warm blanket to meet a snow covered field.
My cheeks absorb the cold as it seeps through the window.
Begging for no attention, living for nothing but my gaze, a lonely fire grows out of a healthy little pile of embers, nuzzled away in the snow.
The growing stillness over the untouched field reaches through my window and meets me with embrace.
You are the captivating landscape that suspends me in time.
You are the fire that dances only for me.
Jul 14, 2022
Jul 14, 2022 at 11:02 PM UTC
Dear Mrs. Lorraine;
It brings me a great deal of pain
to tell you that for the third time
(and really this should be a crime)
that the score on your credit
you gave us was not how you said it
We know that the offer sent in the mail
said no credit check, but read the fine print
it said that that was on approved credit.
So with all the due respects, we respectfully
and with understandable distain, regretfully
must inform you that your credit has been declined
and if you must so be inclined
to ask why we even bothered writing this letter
we, by local and state law, (and mostly the latter)
are required to inform you that you are worth nothing
zero, zilch, nada. So with respect and courtesy
stop sending in applications, for you see
This company is trying to go green
and with every application you **** another tree
And also, with a courteous plea
(and this is just between you and me)
I am really getting tired of staying after hours
to write the responses to these repeated declines.
So if you could do us all a favor, stop replying to
the falsely advertised credit cards we send you
This will take an effort on your end, because
the marketing department won't remove you
from the mailing list without just cause.
-We greatly appreciate your business-
Sincerely from the credit department;
-Chris
Feb 24, 2011
Feb 24, 2011 at 7:53 AM UTC