"sensitives" poems
And that’s the thing with sensitive people.
They notice the world how it’s meant to be,
not how everyone think it is.
The world is beautiful.
It’s good.
Just like people.
Every single one of us.
They’re the one’s with the big hearts.
Who constantly live wiping their tears away
caused by all the sensations that overwhelm them
even in simple occasions.
Yea that’s the thing with sensitive people.
They feel what others pretend isn’t there.
They see the true beauty behind all this ugliness.
And the true pain that people attempt to hide
behind their awfulness.
They get every inch of true emotion
that lies beneath all their shattered pieces.
They comprehend the world in a way
others could never ever picture.
So breathtakingly beautiful
and sorry together.
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 3:42 PM UTC
He, was in love with her plays
her masquerade
tragedies
shakespearean days
Her fences
Defences
Her armoured-
Sensitives
Her past
her facade
her lovely charm
and, learnt, laugh
The curtains close
the room brightens
But he'll fall in love again
the next night,
when they reopen.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 4:27 AM UTC
it was your sweet lips
sugary words drip
your eyes, your gaze, make me twitch
a knot in my stomach
when you flirt
when you touch my sensitives
all the small gestures
and your act of service
suddenly I'm your Queen Bee
I'm in a sugar rush
addicted, obsessed, hooked on
Nov 18, 2021
Nov 18, 2021 at 7:47 AM UTC
Double checking,
Last minute Xmas Shopping list,
Spent a whole day at
MUSÉE D'ORSAY,
with eyes and curiosity,
Renoir: Father and Son,
Painting and Cinema
two Renoirs,
Pierre-Auguste
and Jean Renoir,
Renowned Impressionist painter inspired,
his son, Jean Renoir
‘ A day in country’
one of his Famous Film,
They shared models and
shared sensitives
Like father, like son.
Dec 30, 2018
Dec 30, 2018 at 2:18 PM UTC
Tonight,
my heart still beats itself to feel alright
for just a scratch-soothing while
i suspend myself in the fight
and smile as neurons crossed like fingers remember foreword
to a time when i'll always feel warm inside
Why my core has a habit of overh'eating' by feeding
on the very phenomenon-echoes repeating by striking minor chords of flaming screaming
having a heart is simply to imply a vascular system of circuitous bleeding
on the inside
it's becoming of a sensitives pain who's breath inspires irony towards the thought of what (and how this) sustains one's own life
for no barrier to the brain could block such a painfully bright self-beside site
I always feel but I don't always know why.
...it makes me so angry, this night.
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 7:01 AM UTC
The autumn has snatched the attire of the trees
But you are still mourning the robes of the queens
Eyes have gathered all blood in them to cease
And you are talking about the beauty of the teens
What all is world a cover under cover to uncover
Its oddities and idiosyncrasies to present ,portray
What a wonderful creatures are the poets as lovers
For the peace progress and prosperity they but pray
I am poet what I see I present you may like or dislike
At times I do take blood from heart to sight to write
Which may inflict heart of sensitives to attack or strike
I am a soldier poet I know how to present and to fight
Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2017 Golden Glow
Jan 22, 2017
Jan 22, 2017 at 6:32 AM UTC
Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit an age of inscrutable things
that feast upon docile swarms of sensitives… but never says what you're thinking
in a Eulogy. Only what you’re missing.
Usually.
But sometimes, like Most Times…. the wounds are like walnuts -
parked in a field of oncoming traffic.
Or some gratuitous cerebral laughter.
Choked from a spasm of serene
by the clutches of a Sphinx
with Midnight teats.
And a mane of plausible
Agonies.
May 23, 2019
May 23, 2019 at 10:27 PM UTC