"remorseful" poems
.
*Curious minds,
splashing under
moonlight
With
outstretched kisses
pulsating yellow,
Over the awestruck
magical
rainbow,
Feverishly tracking each
supernova
on sight.*
***Resting the moment
on a
cresting knoll,
With
an audience of several
time-worn
rocks.
Whilst the
whistling sirens
in the winds do call...
Wasting away
the ticks of
worldly
clocks.***
*Evading with class,
all
heart's turbulence,
Craters of sadness
congeal
in thin air,
Glamorous amnesia
falls
with cadence,
Eyes wide shut,
susurrating
a
lost prayer.*
***Lifeless gazes
yield
only
abrasive tears.
As erratum
catches up
with its
gaping maw.
Hurling
its anguish
in
rips and shears,
Bleeding out
of
singing wounds
so raw.
But...
time carries confident,
its stock of
soothing balm.
Latent doses
hidden
within
invisible vials.
Welcoming vision
with its
sunlit palms,
Staving the longing
for the
fear of trials.***
*Now hushed
remain the remorseful
battle trenches,
Deprived of their own
victims
save gaping wounds,
Only
faint faith
commanding
corroded limp
forces,
Stirring
light away
from
all
agony
and
doom.*
Moonskittles
ryn
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 6:40 AM UTC
That look,
that look you're giving me,
i could tell what it is from a mile away.
You aren't mad, no. You're disappointed.
That look,
that look you're giving me
with your eyes darkened and the corners of your mouth twitching down.
You aren't sad, no. You're disappointed.
That look,
that look you're giving me,
like i just stained your favorite sweater
the one that fits you just right.
You aren't remorseful, no. You're disappointed.
That feeling,
that feeling I get when you give me the look.
It's a punch in the gut.
A loss of trust.
A trembling, constant worry.
I'm not disappointed, No.
I'm the disappointment.
n.p.
Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 10:57 PM UTC
.
***Ancient games
tell tales of dust. ||| A story drawn
from the lips of two poets.***
~~~~~
It's the wits that **** not Queens of ivory or ***ink. ***
Charged with coal strokes, scraping up the lies.
Pawns & Knights slip between the grasp of the sun, leaking into* lion jaws of Leo.
Shifting these granite plates, ignoring the Rooks common price of aslant.
Here we have slain kin, crescent traitors that backstab the night and battlefield.
Closed doors and trap floors, trade me a tie, swindling your tactic ruts.
Reality never got the noose around our necks, check turned into manslaughter, and kingdoms ripped asunder by the roar of Jupiter
Get up, get up, get away from these liars, they can't have your rank or your fire.
Peak a notion, this match is spared by a luft.
Toss away the pride buried 'neath your dusty skin, it don't matter no more if death has you by the lips.
Silence is a language too in our eyes of earth.
Take my hand, knott your soul into this downfall, and brace yourself for the wreckage in our bones.
The Sword of Sorrows will fall 'pon your shoulders, not to slay thee, but to dub thee a new day.
The drums of war will knit the lyrics in the sky,
singing:
"The mighty sharpen their fangs, the weak sharpen their wisdom"
~~~~~
I'm tired of your wishbones, and golden scales, give me the hard-earned truth.
Hot coals of honesty may you tread upon, shadow-bitten remorseful may you be, don't stray off the course of Ursa major.
The North star isn't the one I follow
It's the moon with all of it's phases,
Eclipsing and crescent, tipping the sky with it's beauty.
Now let this sink further than any soul has ever sunk,
no man could ever
*rule the moon.
~~~~~~
***Shoot on command,
C
h
e
c
k
m
a
t
e***
~~~~
You could drag me to hell and back and those words wouldn't mean anything.
Let this downfall become a downfell,
Because last I checked
"Wolves worship the moon"
and I have broke it's reflection in the water
*Just
by
throwing
s
t
o
n
e
s
.*
.
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 3:19 PM UTC
She walks a narrow path,
over a valley filled with wrath.
One wrong turn,
and in the fire she's left to burn.
She always dreamt to stretch her wings, but never did fearing the stings.
She always wanted to soar high,
but feared the endless predators in the sky.
A smile she wears as the day goes by,
lets no one see the tear in her eye.
The pain in her heart goes un noticed by most,
though it rings from coast to coast.
Her voice no one ever heard,
not a single sentence or word.
No laughs of joy nor cries of pain,
all for herself to contain.
Lonely at times she gazes at the night sky, trying to catch any falling star that may go by.
Wishing for her misery to end,
wishing to enjoy life and its moments with a close one, a friend.
Laughs and cries to herself at times, putting down what she feels into rhymes.
Pushed around forever,
rarely allowed to pursue her own endeavour.
Her goals and dreams,
never morph to reality it seems.
For others she lives,
without thinking her everything she gives.
How long will this go on,
how long will she suffer from dusk to dawn?
All the injustice and spite,
will this continue to be her plight?
Why can't she be allowed,
to rise up and touch every cloud?
To laugh more and less to cry,
all set bounds and limits to defy.
To fight and to resist,
to deal with every twist and tryst.
To have an equal foot on every front,
no more to take the brunt.
Her eyes never to sparkle with remorseful tears,
to do away with all her worries and fears.
Her freedom to life and right to every joy, lets protect and not destroy.
To end her pitiful plight, and let her enjoy her life’s glorious flight...
Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 11:05 AM UTC
my whispers,
they float over the currents
braving the undulating waves in our overture...
around their necks, hung time-worn pendants
whispers...
struggling to convey my sentence
like wreaths adrift perhaps with hope
like a requiem filled perhaps with remorseful penance
but more like weakened footholds on a slippery slope...
this dream...
only spoke grandly of sprawling blackness
where nothing did gleam
only thoughts heavy but...
oddly weightless
except for...
a repertoire of transgressions...
raucous and obnoxious
mischievous taunts that pull me back
caging me,
enslaving me,
smothering me senseless
that was my consciousness
where second chances exist...
in faint sporadic eruptions
through the heavy curtains of uncertainty's mist
finally awakened by hastened breaths
heavy and laboured
as like previous temporary deaths
I could hear my heart
thumping...
beating...
fighting...
to set its beats apart
breathe deep...
allow the new day's air sink in
rise fully from sleep
wake up
and...
let today begin
Mar 23, 2015
Mar 23, 2015 at 8:01 AM UTC
I sit and look out upon all the sorrows of the world, and upon all
oppression and shame;
I hear secret convulsive sobs from young men, at anguish with
themselves, remorseful after deeds done;
I see, in low life, the mother misused by her children, dying,
neglected, gaunt, desperate;
I see the wife misused by her husband—I see the treacherous seducer
of young women;
I mark the ranklings of jealousy and unrequited love, attempted to be
hid—I see these sights on the earth;
I see the workings of battle, pestilence, tyranny—I see martyrs and
prisoners;
I observe a famine at sea—I observe the sailors casting lots who
shall be kill’d, to preserve the lives of the rest;
I observe the slights and degradations cast by arrogant persons upon
laborers, the poor, and upon negroes, and the like;
All these—All the meanness and agony without end, I sitting, look out
upon,
See, hear, and am silent.
6.5k
Her skin was pale
Like the moon kissed by a midnight sky
Snake-bite piercings
Blessed her catastrophic smile
Beauty beyond conception
Beauty in it's purest form
Our lips met in the glow of stagnant stars
A moment of serenity
Met by utter shock
Something was amiss
I tasted poison in her kiss
Her eyes locked on mine
Sinister yet so divine
There was no escape
As she bit my lip
Dropping to my knees
She ignored all of my pleas
An angel of the night
Set on sending me below
Tears I need not weep
She consoled my every dream
She took the life from me
Singing lullabies ever sweet
I climbed into my coffin
The minute her gaze met mine
Mar 9, 2018
Mar 9, 2018 at 12:32 AM UTC
He has brutalised your beauty
And made you fragile.
Tears tremble on cobalt lashes
Bruised, bewildered
Goddess fallen,
Breaking as you fell.
You sought and brought happiness, warmth and abundance,
But lived, it seemed, a life of anything but.
Now facing a vindictive rage
You must remain stoic.
Your mythical namesake
Found no comfort or pleasure in retaliation, or revenge.
He is incapable of love
And will never back down.
You will need to find the strength to match
His angry bile with wile and guile
His iciness with fire,
Remorseful honesty shows him
A cold, and bitter liar.
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 4:34 PM UTC
Come one, come all,
To the strong mans downfall.
Cut the strings on the marionette,
Believe me, you won't soon forget
The haunting sound of the carousel
Or the staggering heights of the citadel.
A red balloon dancing perfectly in the pale gray sky.
A small child lets out a remorseful cry.
The clowns with their agonizing smiles,
Grab hold of your soul and change its style.
You've waited along time for this.
This frightening bliss of a midnight kiss,
And the familiarity of the moonlights whisper.
You've lost control of your juggling act
Prepare yourself for impact.
Watch out for where the sidewalk cracks,
Because everyone knows how that will end.
Come one, come all,
I've done it all
for you.
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 5:19 PM UTC
Time passes by like a whistle in the wind. Ignored and only observed within the thickness of one's skin. The once gnawing temptation in Lula's eyes were now exchanged in kaput like a dead black swan in the lake.
It grew on her and she can only justify it by moving her legs back in forth and forward with her ballet shoes; she can only obtain her physical through the applause of everyone around her. Yet, there were trickles of blood forming inside her internal wound — as the piano strikes another note in A minor, she can only whisk in pain and undone drafts in her head. "Tis will be over", she raises her head upon the crowds heaping in excitement, she turned around and flew her wings upright and the heads of the audience once more clapped in vain and delirium nonsensical pleasure.
As Chopin's symphony were almost in the last note, she stood straight and made her way to the middle. There, she locked eyes with her forbidden lover and a small smile throughout. The intensity of another Vivaldi's winter classic can be grasp once more and another set up of white swans gathered together — formed a circle and she went in the middle. Her eyes turned black and her wings bleed another tint of jet black and crimson. The crowds awed in reverence and she soared above them. A starlet in the headless crowds and dreary sweet rustle of voices gave her another bliss.
And while she was served aloft, there were another macabre symphony that plays through the soft rough piano; it was a solemn prayer and they were the kind souls going up to the heavens.
"Go on, Salem. Play the winter magic," Salem could only look at his muse and he strike another note, passing notes two steps from their 'haven'.
Lula slowly ripped her wings for the last time and smiled to all the headless men. Her satin dress reveals her plumpy chest and an hourglass body. Lula is a goddess black swan. Men could only forward their eyes and threw her pennies once more and she could only move in her balletic conventional pose. For the last time, she flew with her black tinted wings and they were all beheaded.
The white swans began to sing in a solemn outcry until it became too remorseful. The white swans turned their heads down when they met Lula's dead eyes. Her laugh echoing the whole stadium with its own persona and it is like crawling down into waltz where it reaches their earshot. They can only sing in albeit and expensive heads started to explode.
"Two steps from hell," she sings.
May 30, 2021
May 30, 2021 at 7:11 AM UTC
wait for the thunder to hold its rumble, but watch for the lighting to illuminate the dark skies and the long tears in your auspicious eyes, yet forever holding a mutilated heart upon a tattered, white sleeve
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 12:38 AM UTC
I would remember half dunk, half remorseful
that you would hold my hand a certain way
it would stain my heart
that knack you had for holding me so far from you
and then i would have died just for that
touch like a man seeking glory
I would regret in those twilight hours the
times i told you how beautiful you looked
with your ugly heart
and faceless brow and forced smile
and the knack you had for me to willingly
unwind myself
for you to ravel back to-get-her
I would like to think my lips made an
indelible print on your forehead
and tore through your broken mind
thoughts borne and torn through deadly
actions you learnt from other
soldiers
demented from the ache of the heart
I would pray to sleep alone without
the imprint of you echoing around the house
your words like compliments
spat at me like posion darts of deceit
which lay at my door
for it was my fault
you couldn't let it all go
I would take back my sorry's
and my fighters stance
my bulletproof face
that stood in front of your glass house
and watched your life implodel
and i scraped my fingers through the wreckage
in the hope you weren't hurt
I would
I could
I should
I had
I did
I came
I left
I remember
Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 4:57 PM UTC
Bursting pinkish white blossoms
fall in spring patterns
The air is filled with connecting one being to another
Each being is enthrolled with the heated day
Birds chirp on nature's timetable
in genetic rhythm
The new warmth envelops your body
like a true lover
Your body relaxes in each step that is taken
Spring skies vanquish the dismal grays
revealing a sunny and blue canopy with white billowing clouds
Still and at ease are your and my thoughts
as remorseful thinking is now of cheer
And the relaxed happy chattering
of outside people break the harsh-winter silence
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 7:52 PM UTC
Lost notions of hope
fade into thin air,
developing with destructive growth.
Warm sunlight on an early morning
evaporates a single teardrop.
Broken waves crash
in debilitating consolation.
Moaning winds blend to create
agonizing discontent.
Darkness brings upon
growing rage and
Remorseful renegade
ends with burnt offerings
and insincere apologies.
Misty air dissipates,
dishes break.
You and I
replace foggy memories full of
grief and regret and unsaid words
with
Indifferent opinions
lacking courage or conviction or compassion
creating comforting chaos.
The slumbering void
full of encompassing individuality
somehow pulls us closer.
Freedom and peace
found.
-andrea
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 8:55 PM UTC
Is a cheater always a cheater?
Do you cheat then wear that brand forever?
What if you're remorseful and want to change?
What if you never cheat again?
Is a cheater always a cheater?
I've always been a fidelity believer
I also believe that leopards can change their spots
But I cheated so I'm a cheater forevermore
Nov 1, 2020
Nov 1, 2020 at 9:40 AM UTC
The weighted press of measured steps on stair
accompanied by an echoed call to the familiar.
The first syllable of her name severed midway,
yet it tolled long after the utterance rang out.
The comfort of routine;
tethers of association
snapped under the strain of realisation.
A mocking gift from forgetfulness...
...she left him..
Mechanical body shifts
fighting urges to hesitate and listen to her vanished sleeping breath.
Vacant the cold bedroom,
the chamber harbouring her scent on fabrics, pillow and scantly furnished dresser top.
Each sniff raw as salt on opened wounds.
She left
and left him
only remorseful residues
from the harvest
of three years and five months.
Oct 3, 2015
Oct 3, 2015 at 4:12 PM UTC
Got new job today
After hanging up phone
Went for smoke on deck
Looking up at gloom laden sky
Down at wet vermilion leaves
Felt nothing (empty blessing sickness)
Bored
Want for whole charade to be over
All this ********
Therapy and
ADD meds
That make me feel like a zombie
(Dead eyes in mirror look through you)
Abuse them anyway
I don't want to stop
Pretending
To be so much better for family
Really still useless (dead weight anvil)
Really still high dreaming
Of tall buildings on rainy nights
Or ketamine bathtubs
Ready for the end
Tired
Of worrying about the girl
Remorseful poison
Afraid it will take her away
Says she can't stop
Don't want her to go
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 10:04 PM UTC
i'll always be there outside of the box
where you spill out your burdens to god
tell me everything you've done wrong-
just unpend your sins, you're cleansed, now you win
i'm
the convenient answer
to feeling remorseful about what you've done
made a mistake? i'm here, don't you wait
i've got all the time you need
and on it goes; my shoulder
for you to lean on will always be there
but don't bother to ask me how i'm doing-
you're not supposed to care
i'm tired of being used like an old *****
you rip me to shreds, leave my tongue on the floor
i'm speechless, i'm hurting, held back by my pride
i'm letting my ego take over my mind
i'm playing callous like it's some sort of game
pretending i'm fine when i'm driven insane
you take the wheel from me, steer into a ditch
leaving me battered and broken, unimpressed, not spoken
i've got
my tongue tied in knots
from navigating the tangled webs you drag me through
but i
will never let myself lose
i need to destroy something, run it right through
to reflect my insides after speaking to you
and maybe i'm just a bitter young *****
but i'll take a hit, and i won't let you miss
so drive me into the ground
i won't be beaten down
you can't do much to me;
i can't get much lower now
how far can you bring me down?
yeah, i'll hold my ground
i'm tired of hearing each of your confessions
simply not being able is not a transgression
you're weighing me down with your innocent guilt
i won't feel your trauma if no souls were spilt
i'm so sick
of hearing your troubles; don't say what's amiss
take a hint
your drama won't make or break you
it's no calamity if she hates you
i'm tired of hearing about your petty fights
scuffling over my business won't help with your strife
you think being hateful will show me the light?
you're wrong, good riddance, get out of my life
something so intrinsic isn't abomination
no matter your creed or your denomination
your social life will never make you a saint
and confessing won't stave off my hate
i'm so sick
of hearing your troubles; don't say what's amiss
take a hint
get off of my shoulder, take your own ******* boulder
and live your own life for a bit
don't confess, i'm not impressed,
just live your life and leave me be.
Oct 7, 2012
Oct 7, 2012 at 4:21 AM UTC
Nothing is a sadder sight to me
To see a business with empty windows
The blue building I pass by every day
With the once solid stairs only marked by a paint print
The man in the yellow jacket and the American flag shirt
Even though America is why he is walking on worn down shoes
320 on moffet, dilapidated apartments & hollow doorways
Nothing is a sadder sight to me
The blinking open sign that flickers, only welcoming ghosts
The boy who gets off the bus stop alone, walking by it without a glance
With his back pack strung tiredly over his shoulder
The universal feeling of not fitting in still fresh in his memory
The field of grass, deserted
A cemetery of parts & wheels & headlights & people's once dream machines
Nothing is a sadder sight to me
The lady who lives on 2nd near the sewer drainer
With hoards of stuffed animals waving from inside the windows
As she sits under the awning surrounded by them, smoking a cigarette with trembling fingers
The girl driving with her hands tightly gripping the steering wheel
Grinding her teeth as she watches the people she sees while on the road
Blinks slowly, as she knows home is where she is alone
But she'd rather see this road side sadness then the blank television screen
Nothing is a sadder sight to me
And she screams
As she crashes into a tree
The man in the yellow jacket turns his head
The boy's back pack falls to the ground
The women leaps up, her plush lifeless friends tumbling around her
The building are silent, remorseful
Nothing is a sadder sight to see
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 10:53 PM UTC
If one heart breaks too many times, the outcome is severe,
This is my first-hand account, and why I’m standing here.
I was not protected, believed, comforted or heard
To expect I’d rally differently, or better is absurd.
Who the hell do you think you are?
Creating demons, and inflicting scars
Never showing me affection, and rarely being kind
Really does a number on a child’s simple mind.
I slid a razor over my skin, the first time when I was six
The cuts have healed just fine, mental anguish ******* sticks
The problem is, the six year old, you tortured has grown up
Turns out I can be loved Frances,
so I filled my own cup
You mean nothing to me Frances.
Ivan, **** you too!
I hope you know, in many ways,
I've killed the both of you.
Sam I ******* hate your stupid *** for what you did.
Do you feel remorseful now, or are you still ******* kids?
My wish for you… suffering, much more before your dead
If I were you, I’d **** myself, just like the voices said.
Eric you aren't worth a single word from me or a wisp of air,
You could die today in fact and nobody would care.
Ivan you’re the disappointment, you aren't even a man.
Get in my face you ******* coward and I’ll drop you where you stand.
Judge not, lest he be judged himself; old man I wouldn't dare
You should have ******* stopped him Ivan, after all, you were right there
Instead you did what you do best and hid under a hood
You probably think we'll meet in hell, but me and God are good
Keep yourselves away from me, I am better than y’all
My heads held high, were toe to toe, I’m big now and you’re small.
Those of you reading this might think I’m being mean
Trust me though when I say this you ain't seen anything
Heidi Shavill
2013
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 1:02 AM UTC
*It's optional
Like the fading of skies
Early, wild, or remorseful.
All the impalpable space in the lights
Scaled in weighty gilt and curls
The locks and gold of sun,
early as it sets on a moiety of moor grey
Brushed by shadows of agonised poplars
on a spiral land of sheer pistachio blanket.
Muffled by lyres played from the trumpets of
convolvuluses, behind spears of the brain-
an imagery commence to carouse
into planet deep.
A promenade atop the tulle of skies,
an optional way to live.
Saunter and fall onto slopes, shudder, meditate
and hit a bee coffin pebble on the temple
Where there are options to live, to bleed.
Like the lurid sunrise sifting on
yellow-green nuts, and dandruffs combed
like granulated sugar
Oh the taste of chemistry
on the shea butter candles.
It's sanguine and optional,
your farewells on laden calendars of poems
A promenade- back into sea of spears and flames
A cadaver veined in pink,
bearing plethora of methanol
down pulverising bone.*
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 5:52 AM UTC
This strange egg you've incubated
has sprouted skinny chicken legs.
It follows you around clucking at
every throaty word you nasty-utter.
Pointing and pecking at your guilt
borne by some years ago sin which
all others hatch from and you keep feeding,
Remorseful grains of misdeed shell grit
to harden its anxious green shell.
With no law outside itself the taint faint
heartbeat of your reproof I hear beating
like fear's unglued false eyelashes
You soft swaddle it with empty gestures.
It gestates in every grimace of piety.
I watch it govern your vocation of drab
and undramatic mastery of feathered illusion.
I want to tear shreds in your black satin cape,
To avalanche your fears into frosty exile.
Burn them screaming in the blinding white of
anemic unconscious,
the blacking out.
Hang a trophy **** of your winged demon
taxidermied with glass eyes above my bed.
My compass needle has lost your polarity
there's just a crude representation of pain
I will plant this seed you gave me, in Lethe;
The River of Forgetfulness on its grey shore.
A watery landscape without vanishing point.
Where a white heron will weep tears of sorrow,
like a human to feed hope's tender shoots.
Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 4:31 AM UTC
My juxtaposition to your heart...
Just short of right and just left of leaving...
This fascination...distant adoration...
Trailing off into the distance...despite my own persistence...going...going...gone...
You see...Yours was a velvet touch... smooth against the skin of my soul...
My lips raw from your sandpaper kiss...once riveting...
Now... remorseful hue... morose shade of blue...defunct me and you...
My own sweet type of primal bliss...you...audaciously exist...within me...
As I the ribbon...the strand...
NO...the last straw...
Am wrapped around your finger...linger...
flail...fight...then make tight...our binding...
Intertwining...
Bound by our brittle bias...
And you... pious... feel the need to mediate...to delegate...
NO...dominate...
Our love...
You... an anomaly...of the not right variety...
Build...gather...house the mire ...selfishly... misty moments... memories
My pain protruding...while eluding...my acute identity...
Pregnant with grief...disbelief...I strain...
Laboriously to free you...
Giving birth to the rain...
of emotions...
And OUR storm rages on...
A weeping...seeping semblance of love...
Circling the drain of our destruction...
Jan 20, 2013
Jan 20, 2013 at 4:59 PM UTC
I will name
my first born child
Roman.
For the Romans
were the ********
the murderers,
the economic giants,
the success story,
the strong,
the bold,
the brave.
But they were also the
deliverers of grace,
the remorseful,
the shamed,
the quiet,
and the noble.
And I can only pray
that my child
will be all of these.
Aug 16, 2013
Aug 16, 2013 at 12:37 PM UTC