"retains" poems
From my window,
in corner of an eye,
see a pink flamingo.
Broad curves,
into familiar shape,
grounded legs,
Iron weighted.
Been there
for years,
quietly sitting,
amongst roses.
Pushed by storms,
changing winds,
yet surprising,
inner strength.
Retains balance,
keeps small piece,
staked out,
of much larger plot.
Slowly losing,
it's distinctive hues.
Dissolving,
fuchsia to palest pink.
Every family
has their own,
pale pink flamingo
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 9:59 AM UTC
Love trusts, lust twists
Love rains, lust drains
Love reaches, lust catches
Love couples, lust combines
Love retains, lust detains
Love relies, lust relays
Love cares, lust caresses
Love binds, lust blinds
Love floats, lust flees
Love belongs, lust longs
Love ascends, lust descends
Love fames, lust defames
Love creates, lust recreates
Love commands, lust demands
Love chooses, lust chases
Love boosts, lust boasts
Love at heart
Lust in mind
Love in lust is good
Lust in love is better
Love likes privacy
Lust looks for piracy
Love opens lust
Lust closes love
Love is slow, lust is fast
Love is steady and stable
Lust is mobile and fragile
Love is reliable, lust is liable
Love is long, lust is short
Love is homogeneous
Lust is heterogeneous
Love is defensive
Lust is offensive
Love is precious
Lust is pernicious
Love is supportive
Lust is supplementary
Love is refined
Lust is defined
Love betters life
Lust batters it.
Love has character
Lust has conduct
Love wins over
Lust weans out
Love combines
Lust divides
Love is cool
Lust is crazy
Love is peaceful
Lust is pleasant
Love is wholesome
Lust is piecemeal
Lust comes first
Love becomes best
Love is progressive
Lust is aggressive
Lust laminates
Love illuminates
Love is slow n steady
Lust is hasty n nasty
Love is dense, lust is tense
Lust is conditioned,
Love is air-conditioned
Lust is lovely to begin with
Love is lustrous to end up
Love heals, lust wounds
Love owns, lust disowns
Love is onus, lust is onerous
Love is basic, lust is allowance
Love conforms, lust confuses
Love binds, lust blinds
Be aware of love
Beware of lust
That comes like
wolf in sheep’s clothing
Let the fair blend
of love and lust
rule the roost
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 5:15 AM UTC
The saying is "Always live your life in the fast lane."
But how can I do that if my life has faded like smoke through a keyhole?
It is blank like a notepad on a little girl's desk.
The girl who is constantly bullied for the Bell's Palsy that consumes her face.
The notepad that sits on her desk that she has ripped pages upon pages upon pages out of.
Pages that read words that are thrown at her everyday.
**** ***** ***** loser.
Pages that have drawings of her and that one guy she longs for, but that one guy longs for her disappearance.
My life is like that blank note pad.
The only thing it retains is it's last message telling the world "Goodbye."
Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 9:00 PM UTC
If I could write my life as a poem
For millions who'll read, understand, think
I'd conjure an epic, a mystery
A tale on edge, a tragedy's brink.
I'd weave gripping waves of pleasure
Together with heart-wrenching tides of pain
A sea of battles with no leisure
Of joyful wins going against the grain.
I'd stitch metaphors with gleeful pride
Constructing rhythm with a bit of rhyme
I'd dabble with similes here and there
It'd be my thread on the sands of time.
But when I see my life as it is now
How different it is from my lovely tale
It retains its mystery, some agony
A once-green crop grown dead and stale.
A lost yarn of mistakes and pitfalls
With regret binding the threads as one
Repeated faults with no known structure
A once-free verse that is trapped, undone.
So I'll cast away my dream of a life
In a graveyard as a forgotten goal.
Some dreams never come true, it seems
Just like some lives will never be whole.
Sep 15, 2018
Sep 15, 2018 at 12:42 PM UTC
Watching from beyond, writing their little notes.
Look behind the brainstem and see the past perfect present tense.
You thought about it and I heard it. We grabbed the thoughts.
New bones and muscle.
All the different ones, all the same thoughts pulsing, like brain radar bounding back.
They're of me. they're in me.
But he is not.
The serpent retains it's form but it stays inside. It blinds my dreams.
No escape, let craving; an eternal void.
As it all becomes one form and function. We join. We are the new being, hideous and beautiful.
I think he has taken my soul. I probably wasn't using it anyway.
I am his disguise.
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 3:43 PM UTC
Liner runs thin
as I examine the skin
where I look for a tell-tale mark
Left of a ring that would prove
I'm not alone.
(it's not there)
My back arches and
my body quakes
as deep inside
Infantile sexuality wakes
as my lips let fly
assumed and guessed sighs
of fabricated pleasure
(whatever that is)
They did not teach me these things
I was left to assume
as hearts often do
when they are kept in a room
and ushered away from the pains and joys
of Love
I stare into a mirror
and I stare back
Until all of a sudden
my smile cracks
and I'm left to stare
into the eyes of one
born to lose.
I hug warm pillows
and stroke my own hair
Until I realize he
is not
wasn't
and will never be there
and I'm left to assemble
a Shattered Glass Heart
with nothing but hammers for tools
But then I see myself
beauty and flaws defined
and at this point I know
the only glass heart I need
is mine
even in pieces, it retains it's strength
and waits to be whole again
So dormant I sit
mesmerized by the prisms the pretty pieces make
as I wait
for a true artist to come
and give this
Shattered Glass Heart
new form
with the heat of reassuring and shared existence
and the grace of gentle words and sweet kisses.
Jun 27, 2011
Jun 27, 2011 at 12:03 PM UTC
Love trusts, lust twists
Love reins, lust rains
Love reaches, lust catches
Love couples, lust combines
Love retains, lust detains
Love relies, lust relays
Love cares, lust caresses
Love binds, lust blinds
Love floats, lust flees
Love belongs, lust longs
Love ascends, lust descends
Love fames, lust defames
Love creates, lust recreates
Love commands, lust demands
Love chooses, lust chases
Love boosts, lust boasts
Be aware of love
Beware of lust
That comes like
wolf in sheep’s clothing
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 10:12 AM UTC
A cow's outside is mainly hide,
Undoubtedly this leather
retains a cow's insides inside,
and holds a cow together
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 5:03 PM UTC
he rides his bicycle in the the
torrential rain
plowing a froth quick and fierce
through the rivers created
the cycle once bright orange
has patches of rust the size
of cantaloupe
and has a blue hoodie wrapped
round the seat which smells musty
you can feel him panting
bathed in sweat
as each hill retains more and more of
his hard earned pace
but mother nature is kind to her
strangest son
and every hill has a
fly by the seat of your pants
whoop whoop laughing
breeze in you hair bugs in your teeth
downhill
shift to vision miles distant from
that smile
the cycle lay in the weeds by the river
broken
the night obscures
the riderless iron steed
its form twisted
it has expressions of pain in appearance
that paint cannot contain
pain for its own lost
freedom of the road
but pain for its rider
the years count on and on
from that downhill smile moment
that lives on in the heart
Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 8:57 AM UTC
Through the lens of your naked mind
a universe is photographed;
The photo retains its lucid life
when mine is the eye looking
Within the reflecting walls
of our multiverse gallery
a picture is worth a thousand worlds.
Jun 18, 2018
Jun 18, 2018 at 12:28 AM UTC
It's time to fight for your freedom.
Do you see yourself,
Silhouette against the setting sun -
Reds as deep as the monster's eyes,
Draped in cold silver?
A breast plate hides the heart,
Shin guards perverse agility,
Chain-mail protects strength,
A helmet retains sanity,
A trusty steed will hurry the process,
This cloth to ease the pain of battle,
A torch to ensure you won't get lost;
A sword to vanquish the creature that controls your heart.
Silhouette, with arm raised high,
Begins to charge just as stars dot the sky.
You have all you need,
now fight
until the only thing left you have to give
is a single breath
in which the dying words
I love you
are carried far away to the next champion
to fall at this beast's hands.
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 2:49 PM UTC
The forgotten umbrella
Fretted
Did he get wet?
Cry because it was missing?
Would his mother have given him a beating?
Benches and desks
Are cozing
The board still retains
The day’s remnants
Night came,
The umbrella was in tears
Rain rain
Umbrella umbrella
Said the rain outside
Only the umbrella heard
His voice was raining over the shower
“my darling umbrella”
Crying itself to sleep,
Headmaster’s room
Came in a dream
Question papers, canes
Maps, globe, skeleton,
Chalk power,
Fat lady teachers,
Farts and baloney
Startled itself awake
No, it is not light yet
Through the darkness
Nothing other than his embroidered name
Still you forgot me!
Other umbrellas came
And sat on either sides
Didn’t you get wet yesterday?
Didn’t you go home?
How can it be said that he forgot me?
There he is!
Umbrella closed its eyes
Let him come running
Give a hundred kisses
He didn’t come even after the bell rang
On opening the eyes, saw
His new darling umbrella
Hasn’t put it down..
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 8:13 AM UTC
Behind the twinkle of your gaze
Past the walls you so fervently constructed
At times,
I see your pain
I feel the anguish in your eyes
The quivering of your lip quickly forced away by a misplaced grin
Surrounded by the emptiness of this void we call life
I wish nothing more than to hear those alluring three words
The glow you radiate envelopes any room
Your smile casts any doubt I have in life
How can someone be so incredible?
I am the lucky one
You show how utterly beautiful life can be
That this existence is not some random succession of meaningless events
With you,
life takes shape
life retains hope
Life has meaning.
Apr 25, 2012
Apr 25, 2012 at 1:56 PM UTC
This house is warm as it retains the suns powerful rays of heat.
Seeds germinate and grow with strength,
each planted and nurtured with care from the theraputic gardener within his greenhouse.
But its such a shameful shame,
that we can not all be like the contented gardener.
We throw words around like sharp stones of flint,
when the glass house in which we surround ourselfs to will shatter.
Like shards of fine glass panes our words can not be unspoken ..
Unbroken.
Let positivity bathe you in light from the vast window space,
embrace its warmth, speak only words of kindness and love.
If this proves too difficult to comprend when tempers fray,
then eat your words or leave them unsaid.
For this will cause shards of glass within a quick tongue that can not be unherd.
Think, stop, have a little humility,
we should do unto others as we undo for ourselfs.
So I ask you only this, let your thoughts germinate seeded words of encouragement.
Then you will see them blossom into beautiful colours bathed in the warmth of love.
Let this contagious greenhouse in which you surround yourself, keep you mindful,
enjoy its warming embrace of light.
learn to help others shine, you will then comprehend the power of the greenhouse effect.
Nov 13, 2017
Nov 13, 2017 at 6:26 AM UTC
A delicate crimson rose endures
The snow and winds of winter's grasp
And closes up and wilts a while
Until Summer sun it finds at last
In this world of unrighteousness
Where brutes and ogres' egos roam
And selfishness abounds like weeds
She exists in shattered form
With silent seething disilusion
And saddened, unrequited love
Maddened by the unjust acts
of those who advertized their “love”
A vain and self-indulgent god
Did sieze himself her mind and oath
Presiding as the demons do
In hidden acts pronounced as gross
Enduring the madness of matriarchs
And the hostility of tribal gang
Where smiles of familial welcoming
Turned into savage, jealous fangs
Yet though the bitterness seeps through
And anger permeates her skin
Sweet dignity she still retains
And devotion stll resides within
Her adornment incorruptible
Her spirit mild and resolute
Did not return evil for evil
But stood and conquered it with good
Happy is she who has endured
And in mild subjection did remain
Showing honour to a painful degree
To bring honour to Jehovah's name
And though she stumbled in despair
Yet withstood for righteous sake
Her loyalty, the beast could not sever
Nor divine concsience could he break
For like the rose at winter's end
That bears a striking sharpened thorn
Her petals still are soft and pure
And her soul with beauty still adorned
For the righteous one who sees all things
And whose love she yet retains
Will never for eternity forget
The love she showed for his great name
And should she reach out and beseech
And trust his salvation once again
She would know with certainty
He has never let go her hand
(For my precious daughter, Cheryl, who has been to hell and back)
May 3, 2020
May 3, 2020 at 1:19 PM UTC
It is a sultry day; the sun has drunk
The dew that lay upon the morning grass;
There is no rustling in the lofty elm
That canopies my dwelling, and its shade
Scarce cools me. All is silent, save the faint
And interrupted murmur of the bee,
Settling on the sick flowers, and then again
Instantly on the wing. The plants around
Feel the too potent fervours: the tall maize
Rolls up its long green leaves; the clover droops
Its tender foliage, and declines its blooms.
But far in the fierce sunshine tower the hills,
With all their growth of woods, silent and stern,
As if the scorching heat and dazzling light
Were but an element they loved. Bright clouds,
Motionless pillars of the brazen heaven,--
Their bases on the mountains--their white tops
Shining in the far ether--fire the air
With a reflected radiance, and make turn
The gazer's eye away. For me, I lie
Languidly in the shade, where the thick turf,
Yet ****** from the kisses of the sun,
Retains some freshness, and I woo the wind
That still delays its coming. Why so slow,
Gentle and voluble spirit of the air?
Oh, come and breathe upon the fainting earth
Coolness and life. Is it that in his caves
He hears me? See, on yonder woody ridge,
The pine is bending his proud top, and now
Among the nearer groves, chestnut and oak
Are tossing their green boughs about. He comes!
Lo, where the grassy meadow runs in waves!
The deep distressful silence of the scene
Breaks up with mingling of unnumbered sounds
And universal motion. He is come,
Shaking a shower of blossoms from the shrubs,
And bearing on their fragrance; and he brings
Music of birds, and rustling of young boughs,
And sound of swaying branches, and the voice
Of distant waterfalls. All the green herbs
Are stirring in his breath; a thousand flowers,
By the road-side and the borders of the brook,
Nod gayly to each other; glossy leaves
Are twinkling in the sun, as if the dew
Were on them yet, and silver waters break
Into small waves and sparkle as he comes.
2.3k
Hail, happy saint, on thine immortal throne,
Possest of glory, life, and bliss unknown;
We hear no more the music of thy tongue,
Thy wonted auditories cease to throng.
Thy sermons in unequall’d accents flow’d,
And ev’ry ***** with devotion glow’d;
Thou didst in strains of eloquence refin’d
Inflame the heart, and captivate the mind.
Unhappy we the setting sun deplore,
So glorious once, but ah! it shines no more.
Behold the prophet in his tow’ring flight!
He leaves the earth for heav’n’s unmeasur’d height,
And worlds unknown receive him from our sight.
There Whitefield wings with rapid course his way,
And sails to Zion through vast seas of day.
Thy pray’rs, great saint, and thine incessant cries
Have pierc’d the ***** of thy native skies.
Thou moon hast seen, and all the stars of light,
How he has wrestled with his God by night.
He pray’d that grace in ev’ry heart might dwell,
He long’d to see America excell;
He charg’d its youth that ev’ry grace divine
Should with full lustre in their conduct shine;
That Saviour, which his soul did first receive,
The greatest gift that ev’n a God can give,
He freely offer’d to the num’rous throng,
That on his lips with list’ning pleasure hung.
“Take him, ye wretched, for your only good,
“Take him ye starving sinners, for your food;
“Ye thirsty, come to this life-giving stream,
“Ye preachers, take him for your joyful theme;
“Take him my dear Americans, he said,
“Be your complaints on his kind ***** laid:
“Take him, ye Africans, he longs for you,
“Impartial Saviour is his title due:
“Wash’d in the fountain of redeeming blood,
“You shall be sons, and kings, and priests to God.”
Great Countess, we Americans revere
Thy name, and mingle in thy grief sincere;
New England deeply feels, the Orphans mourn,
Their more than father will no more return.
But, though arrested by the hand of death,
Whitefield no more exerts his lab’ring breath,
Yet let us view him in th’ eternal skies,
Let ev’ry heart to this bright vision rise;
While the tomb safe retains its sacred trust,
Till life divine re-animates his dust.
2.1k
My dog eared heart
Is a stray paper heart that is worn at the corners
I liked to worn you that it's been used and abused
In many different ways.
Like a monetary paper note it retains its value
But it looks ***** in its present form
It's a reflection of my being
Valued the same but used and carried in many peoples pockets
Sometimes spent, sometimes used for a higher purpose
Never worthless but paper thin and fragile
I'd cash in but I am not that shallow
I want someone to take it and invest in me
To take time to gain my interest
and spend my dividends.
Aug 8, 2016
Aug 8, 2016 at 1:31 PM UTC
With the intelligence &
stamina of the wolf,
My willpower & endurance
excels beyond most,
With the stealth &
craftiness of the fox,
I take much from my
opposition & vanish in
the night like a ghost..
With the massiveness &
memory of the elephant,
My mind runs deep & retains
emotions for the better of my clan,
With the camouflage &
ingenuity of the octopus,
I escape the pursuing demons
& continue with my life long plan..
With the patience &
strength of the crocodile,
I ambush & clamp down on
my oppressors treading unnoticed,
With the devastating roar &
isolation tactics of the tiger,
I accomplish amazingly by my
lonesome while dominating
my foes with unmatched focus..
With the power, speed, &
belligerence of the mantis shrimp,
I hold the fastest punch in the
world & my power equals that of
a rifle bullet which allows me to
take on all comers on earth,
With the majesty &
grace of the argali,
I climb the highest mountains
with the greatest of ease
staying clear of my enemies
& watching over the scenes
til the next generation is birthed..
True originality...
Shows through my personality..
This is my animality..
What animals do you compare to???
Whats your animality???
Jul 5, 2012
Jul 5, 2012 at 1:54 AM UTC
candid malice, besieging
drained by lucrative ignorance
frustration staining teared windows
the hole leaks with pure essence
once where the heart stood, emptiness retains resolve
desolation sets in
she calls, in the mind..
passion begets strife
i walk on
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 12:47 AM UTC
There are situations in which one is cut off from the opportunity to do one's work or enjoy one's life; but what can never be ruled out is the unavoidability of suffering. In accepting this challenge to suffer bravely, life has a meaning up to the last moment, and it retains this meaning literally to the end. — Viktor Frankl
[T]here is no coming to consciousness without pain. — Carl Jung
Should the conflagration climb
Run till all the sages know — William Butler Yeats
Heart-injured in North London, he became
The Latin scholar of his generation. — W. H. Auden
It's urgent,
Imminent,
Fiercely non-communicable.
(Carry a firestorm in your veins.)
*Secrets, secrets are no fun
Secrets, secrets hurt someone*
The secret, untranslatable, hurts the secret-holder:
Frustration disguises isolation.
Distilled isolation is pain.
Purified pain is meaning.
(Carry a firestorm in your veins.)
*Secrets, secrets are no fun?
Secrets, secrets hurt someone?*
O, only momently!
Heart-injury transfigured is salvation.
(Carry a firestorm in your veins.)
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 2:45 PM UTC
Three wise monkeys from far away
in the mystical ancient east
Their simple message misunderstood
so that the west can gorge and feast.
~~
Mizaru "See no evil"
~~
Meaning precisely just that
to not repeatedly look upon ill deed
Not to "turn the blind eye" of indifference
As the many starve whilst others feed
Simply, the more evil that you see
the less empathetic you become.
Constant destruction in the news
normalises genocide till we are numb
~~
Kikazaru "Hear no evil"
~~
Just like Mizaru, Kikazaru
tries to absorb less evil news.
Refusing to listen to the screams
He retains his compassionate views.
Understanding that overconsumption
of evil, violence and negativity
turns the purest warm heart cold
and breeds dark insensitivity.
~~
Iwazaru "Speak no evil"
~~
Differing from the previous two monkeys
speaking no evil is a consequence
of not seeing and hearing wickedness
delivering this providence
For if vile behaviour is consumed
through your sight and, or sound
That evil inside must be expelled
It can't be just buried or drowned
~~
Note how the news desensitises you
and how violence is sold to your kids
Remember The Three Wise Monkeys
and consider what each one forbids.
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 10:09 AM UTC
Trolls may rant and trolls may rave
But they have hollow minds and little do they gain
I've not yet seen a single troll get the daily poem
Perhaps it's their ineptitude caused by stagnation of the brain
They choose a victim without conscious thought
Then attack with words of bitter bile
But then forget the Wolf bites deep
But still retains his smile
Now trolls are big and ugly
With the foulest words and breath
But, oh yes trolls remember
THE WOLVES ALL RUN IN PACKS
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 5:22 PM UTC
Don't listen to me, I'm a copy too
I'm nothing that should be considered original
I'm nothing worth building a statue over
I'm nothing that can't be replaced
If I get hit by a bus
Just pull someone else of the street
Put them in my clothes
You'll hardly notice the difference
I think my parents will like someone they won't have to feel guilty towards
They ******* me up
They know it, too
My brother'll like someone that's not trying to put him down all the time
I'm still in the process of ******** him up
He knows it, too
You could all just throw my dead, stinking, toxic body in the back
Feed me to the dogs
Let's mosey in the other extreme, let's say I'm unique
Or you are
They won't let us be different
If the commonwealth start listening
They'll **** us
Out of fear
What else they can do?
If we threaten them with consciousness among the masses
We got to go
It's nothing personal
I'll never have a Swan Song day
I'll never have a woman that I love
I'll never get to die peaceful in bed
I won't get to see the kids I never had grow up
But I'll have the benefit of having the memory of a fresh life
Doesn't sound like we have much of a choice, does it?
Conform, jump through the hoops, sell our soul, give yourself up
Or you live your life not giving in
And they decide you can't stick around
You're given the people funny ideas
I'm sure they'll **** you or me
If we're too free
They already got rid of Bobby, John and Martin
I guess that's why Jerome went into hiding
He gave too much hope and courage to people
You can either rot from the inside
Or you die young
Because, maybe one way or another they get you
I like to believe they don't though
Imagine this, as you lay bleeding from the three holes in your chest
With that last word of hope or love or divinity or whatever you want to call it on your lips
You sit and you think
It was all worth it
I don't regret anything
Because
Unlike them
I can still taste her lips
Unlike them
I can still hear the music
Unlike them
I can still see the endless fields of rye, the forests, the amazons, the rivers, the mountains
Unlike them
My eyes still smile
Unlike them
I laugh
Unlike them
I dance to my own music
And as the blood that retains it's anima leaves my veins
I smile
Because I'm not like them
And I realize
So I'm grateful
And I notice
All the little scared people look so cute in their mislead, unshaped, self-righteous indignation
Dec 13, 2011
Dec 13, 2011 at 1:15 PM UTC
Fluctuating equilibrium is not divorced from the pleasure of pain, or from the pain of pleasure.
One may deem the price of gas to be expensive. However, its price can plummet overnight, to joyous depths of consumerism.
Smell the slow-cooked meat as it retains its succulent moisture, where the slicing of flesh releases secretions when parts are severed from the whole.
The cello can be an orchestral wonder of this perplexing theatre, yet thought-provokingly sombre in its captivating liberty.
So, make a decision from this rich menu of trans-global culinary indulgences. But please, do not forget to tip the pretty waitress.
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 11:03 PM UTC