Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"shallowed" poems
The church field trip led to the most beautiful presence, The elegance protrude by the sweet scent. I dared not moved so hastily, I dared not the red! Glanced by the peripheral eye lids, The red beckoned the thumping beats within my chest! A visual decor permeates from the illuminating of the perfect circle, And my inner most demon want to ravage it! I wanted to devour every essense of the crescent, Becoming one with red. I slightly move forward so no eyes may pry onto my movement, Like an orchestra moved to one trumpet to a violin scurry along. Finally came side by side of the precious glimmer of the curves, And moved my hand to palm the red's grace on the tilt of it's end. I open wide to cusp my mouth to bite deep into it's brilliance, In my teeth feeling the liquid and crunchy of it's body! Sour taste of salt expand a vigor of darkness cover my mouth, I look at the apple's plate beneath me read " Ida Red!" Water upon my eyes, No longer can chew any further, I simply shallowed the chunk in my throat!   "Your elegance beckon me red, but in the end, you have seduced me to bitterness!" I dared, Idared, ida red!
0
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 10:09 PM UTC
Seduced by the Unknown Red's Trickery!
and as the paranoia creeps in settling between my ******* the hollow of my throat tightens with weak and shallowed breaths my legs, they shake and shiver under the extreme duress of not knowing if again his love will wander leaving me a foolish mess
0
Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 8:27 PM UTC
paranoia
Rekindling of spirit (folding in, billowing out) with which we end the day, I dare you to leave me. The sun begs you to stay-- Give him the week off! He needs a dozen drinks! Whiskey, gin, Pinot Grigio, the whole lot! He deserves a feast! And so the London Fog stayed. Coat and tea in hand, thrown onto the mesh ground despite, tea arriving on cue-- Shallowed issues gone askew, Heart-screams louder than the heart-worms awash across the sidewalk Day dark like Night The London Fog Holds me tight
0
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 8:10 PM UTC
London Fog Coat
I am tossed upon the tempest I am tested on the tide I have heard the ocean restless I will by the sea abide But I long for drier shorelines Far from sandy bottoms deep For a tower wrapped in rose vines Above a sunny keep I have played in water shallowed I have frolicked in the spray But while this sea to me is hallow'd My heart draws me far away My soul is meant for moonglow My heart the sunny glade But my home lies far below Where the coral reefs are made And never shall I leave it This realm of wave and foam For my dreams may be on land lit But the ocean is my home
0
May 18, 2016
May 18, 2016 at 7:46 PM UTC
A Mermaid's Dream
The world blurs, As the storm clouds my vision. I struggle to stand straight, I cant stand at all... My breathing is shallowed, My head is seeing double.. What is this? Why am I weak? Stand... Straight.. I cant see... This world is spinning, All around me.. (faints)
0
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 10:27 PM UTC
Everythings Spinning
A peg of person Hanging on my word Show'd itself to me Wooden, carved roughly Surfaced on linen, varnish Shallowed man. He felt nothing to me, at me He told me riddle body ***** I ignored, bored hated words of worry But felt them myself, little Anti-anti-anticipations And trembling lumps of merryweather met us But we came to a pond, and drank the green green wealth We spun a little, splashed like ripples do Onto a blank canvas of a conversation Muddy murky words came out 'Sex *** sex' little bee, buzz for pollen, buzz for me I couldn't. I'm not. I'm not another, you're different, distinto I'm feeling nothing, angsty man, Through rides and fairgrounds together I found a lost child, and he set me I told you who I am and I found me. Roughly cut, varnished wooden man Burned in envy, dusted away I felt nothing, watched his anguish And figured, hammered, rutted out A sense of self-belonging, I guess we don't belong, I guess we make our own self-pity, But at least we know. I said goodbye, he did not, I left the day before yesterday I wrote a confusing poem to figure it out And people read it Quietly I confined myself to words and Bibles written for me For a bitter version of myself I burned away, burned away, Burned my, burned my burned away.
0
Dec 10, 2016
Dec 10, 2016 at 7:49 PM UTC
Quirky Jerky
Everything is temporary Your hurt Your home Everything Except for me You'd smile while I cried The unwavering voice Of everything being alright It was boldly defined love The ability to assure the paranoid Of their biggest fears escape Permanence You dug the word love into my frame A sink hole impossible to rearrange Or place anywhere other than my chest It tattooed me painlessly Our promises etched into my rib cage We were an ecosystem within ourself Our commitment a maze only we managed to navigate I was so accustomed to your hand in mine I'd began to think our roots had entwined Our respiratory patterns had synced Or was it that your breath shallowed Like my own From the deforestation leaving me to sink As I watched you turn from man to stone Lighting the match burning our home You dropped so many hints Just hard enough not to break Me But in the shards of glass and ruin All I could see was your flaunted happiness And my disintegrating memory My inability to feel alone Without feeling lonely And I don't exactly know what I want Other than little less empathy And a little more apathy And possibly a day of recovery Spent in sobriety I only know that I'm tired of crying to sleep Over a man that says I'll love you like he'll stay And cries when he leaves My ribs promises want to scream A congratulatory You Broke Me But in my deterioration I'm stuck with only a memory You were the only one that told me I smelled amazing after a cigarette, And that is why the time I spent with you I could never regret But you'd always hated that I smoke Because you said I took our time and shortened it But that's now proven irrelevant Because I can't shorten what's meant to be permanent But the ashes of your disappearance Now fall on your conceptual forever And within a matter of minutes we were consumed by the great inevitable.
0
Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 3:57 AM UTC
Inevitable
Everything is temporary Your hurt Your home Everything Except for me You'd smile while I cried The unwavering voice Of everything being alright It was boldly defined love The ability to assure the paranoid Of their biggest fears escape Permanence You dug the word love into my frame A sink hole impossible to rearrange Or place anywhere other than my chest It tattooed me painlessly Our promises etched into my rib cage We were an ecosystem within ourself Our commitment a maze only we managed to navigate I was so accustomed to your hand in mine I'd began to think our roots had entwined Our respiratory patterns had synced Or was it that your breath shallowed Like my own From the deforestation leaving me to sink As I watched you turn from man to stone Lighting the match burning our home You dropped so many hints Just hard enough not to break Me But in the shards of glass and ruin All I could see was your flaunted happiness And my disintegrating memory My inability to feel alone Without feeling lonely And I don't exactly know what I want Other than little less empathy And a little more apathy And possibly a day of recovery Spent in sobriety I only know that I'm tired of crying to sleep Over a man that says I'll love you like he'll stay And cries when he leaves My ribs promises want to scream A congratulatory You Broke Me But in my deterioration I'm stuck with only a memory You were the only one that told me I smelled amazing after a cigarette, And that is why the time I spent with you I could never regret But you'd always hated that I smoke Because you said I took our time and shortened it But that's now proven irrelevant Because I can't shorten what's meant to be permanent But the ashes of your disappearance Now fall on your conceptual forever And within a matter of minutes we were consumed by the great inevitable.
Continue reading...
55
© 2010 (Jim Sularz) What final verse, which season’s breeze, will billow death and come for me? Will I slip away cold ashen lips, or slowly fade with each shallowed breath? Will my faith endure when the clock is struck, in the Book of Life is my soul in-trust? Will I ever wake from night’s burrowed sleep, and soar with angels through Heaven’s Gate? Born of love – Die in pain, what mournful words will attempt to say? When granite’s cut-in stony deep, who’ll stand and wait, to remember me?
0
Jun 24, 2012
Jun 24, 2012 at 4:58 PM UTC
Remember Me
you. are memories presenting themselves as tightly confined spaces you. and your mind embodies an image of a locked file cabinet you. are loaded with information and details two decades continually growing those of stories and shallowed secrets about you. you. who dreams of endless emotions that refrain to consume you. who longs for endless laughter paired with authenticity yet for you. you. and your happiness, whether blooming by el soleil or la lune then suddenly something changes you. are a microscopic dot on a worldly globe the earth makes space for you. the universe makes just enough room, -for you.
0
May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 9:16 AM UTC
There's A Space For You Too
Sadness comes with me to you, and I speak the words in my mind as I cannot say them to you. Even as my blue grey crosses with your brown, the emptiness fills my subconscious, as your unawareness of not knowing penetrates; the drowning of show and tell suffocates, inside me. Unable I am to satiate my colours for the map, I drew for you lays unread, in the dark on your desk. Inside my eyes, unshed tears are burning, for their way to come out, as it aches and takes the fabric of skin with them to reveal a shallowed passion. I wonder, if I should make an end to it, and once and for all be done with this… But the look in your eyes, however empty of apperception pervade into intuitive truth, though deep words are few. I had not realized, been focusing on the wrong things all along. So I bid, expand your vocabulary on me, I will show you the wealth of the vast universes they can reveal. Into your world they will bleed, as I will read your little star sign book; and with the way in which you devour written words, open up your mind and take mine into it. Give me a reason to look into your unsuspecting eyes, with a sincerity that is blind. © 2005
0
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 9:37 PM UTC
Confoundingly profound
Breathing shallowed. Heartbeats slowed. Halted in the real world. Music rattles. Goes tap tap. Skeletal bones. Boy. They clap. Perfect volume. Rhythm in play. Hells commotion. Heels click. Deviance in devotion. Feet in motion. Melted skin. Viscera folded. Expressionless motion. Viscous stick. Stuck entranced til relieved. Midnight carriage it arrives. Steals the dead. Deceased stallion. Bequeathed the role of soul collection. In the dead of night. Back to the graveyard after death's ball. Take the skeletons home. Sleep well. One and all! By ladylivvi1 © 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
0
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 12:19 PM UTC
Dead Dancing!
It's hard living in a world where no one cares While your smothered and shallowed by despair Sitting here wondering why I was born into this place Not wanting to be part of this sad human race Where money is the great and powerful Oz It doesn't matter what's the cause I look and see their hearts have grown cold and calloused Everything is so off balanced There is no more unconditional love No loving help from up above We have been abandoned The trumpets have sounded Humanity has been stripped of it's compassion Empathy is in short ration Gone are the ways of old To these values we no longer hold Now it's I'll do for you, if you can do for me That's not the way it's supposed to be But everyone's eyes have been closed Their souls have become thorny and cold We are no longer judged on our thoughts and actions But by how much money we have for the coming attractions For if we don't have enough to pay We become part of the play We are condemned to be the ***** They feed to the machines of war ©Pauline Russell
0
Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 11:48 AM UTC
Off Balanced
I never liked it when you called me Honey. It dropped each letter and froze my throat shut. It shallowed my breathing, cut off my fluttering circulation, swelled my eyes closed. It propelled my heartbeat, calloused my skin, inverted my fingernails. My vision bled, you laughed at this, and through my head rang your shrill cackles as giant gongs infesting all sound. You thought it was silly, my transformation, my drunken anger, when you flashed your canines at me, you Monster. Only the most wicked can kindle their hatred into someone else. Only the most cancerous find humor in other's tears.
0
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 2:23 PM UTC
Voodoo
You make it hard to remember what song I was listening to when my world was ending; pale skin tangled up in dark carpets, shallowed breathing, the room reveling in my emptiness. But now, I think our melody might be even more memorable. So I'm tugging at your arms as if they were the rope around my neck; please don't let me fall.
0
May 30, 2019
May 30, 2019 at 2:18 AM UTC
Two Toned
It's hard living in a world where no one cares While your smothered and shallowed by despair Sitting here wondering why I was born into this place Not wanting to be part of this human race Where money is the great and powerful Oz It doesn't matter what's the cause I look and see their hearts have grown cold and calloused Everything is so off balanced There is no more unconditional love No help from up above We have been abandoned The trumpets have sounded Humanity has been stripped of it's compassion Empathy is in short ration Gone are the ways of old To these values we no longer hold Now it's I'll do for you if you can do for me That's not the way it's supposed to be But everyone's eyes have been closed Their souls have become thorny and cold We are no longer judged on our thoughts and actions But by how much money we have for the coming attractions For if we don't have enough to pay We become part of the play We are condemned to be the ***** Then feed into the machines of war ©Pauline Russell
0
Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 11:55 AM UTC
Off Balanced
One of the hardest things in his life was explaining why he loved her, it was like trying to explain the taste of water... You know it, you feel it, you cherish it, but just can't place the right words... the depth of his affection for her shallowed the ocean, it was too deep even for him to understand how he got himself into such an endless abyss, never the less, he would fall even deeper for her, if he could do it all over again for she was worth every pain.
0
Mar 26, 2018
Mar 26, 2018 at 1:44 PM UTC
Endless
I woke up suddenly. As I felt weighing pair of eye staring at me. It was yours. "Why?" I asked. "Nothing." You replied cooly. I want to go back to sleep. Yet I cannot. For--- Your eyes, smoking. Lust. With your hair messy like that. Shirt buttons come undone. Revealing the body of my beautiful man. My breathing shallowed. Your smile shadowed. Fighting the urge to touched you first. I lost the battle with your next words. "Make love to me." I reached out. Aimed for your lips. Closer. Closer. Breathings harder. Close-e-r-r-i-n-n-g-g-g-g My alarm sounded. It is morning. Oh my. Another helpless dream.
0
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 3:24 PM UTC
Aroused
I don't know where time has gone. My mind blank growing old. This summer is deceivingly cold. Would it be bold to take the risk to have and to hold? I'm drowning deeper keep me under until I'm numb and stone. Shallowed out drawing ghosts. Pale white heavenly sung. Drag me out to the bone. Take me to my grave stone. Skeleton hearts are long gone. Tired of waiting and not being enough. Tired of the drugs and early mornings hoping I don't wake up. This safe haven isn't even worth it to me. The pills will break and destroy **** in and outside of me. Take me over just give me what I deserve. Leave me speechless, breath taken without any words. **** me so well you do it gladly. It's no wonder I'm going madly. So here I lay sadly. Feelings fade and people bash me. A cigarette burns like ashes to magic. Whys life gotta be so tragic? An empty wine glass a broken mirror. I hear the screams growing closer.   Shutter shutter stone faced cold cuts going deeper. In life they say try and get better, well with this life I'm living it's been such a disaster. No words left pains sinks faster. Hold me deep keep me underwater. Drowning underneath the heavy blue lagoon. Killing me it's no wonder I'm doomed. When I leave this earth it won't even matter. Not to you or me. No one will see. So why not I'll finally let myself free?
0
Aug 1, 2017
Aug 1, 2017 at 8:58 PM UTC
Lead me to The End
look at my pain and my scars look at the holes that he cut deep, deep into me marvel at the openness of my chest now the light which is allowed in now that i am hollow he shallowed my existence but deepened my humanity for that, I thank him for that, I want you to look at me for what I am now different
0
Jul 30, 2016
Jul 30, 2016 at 2:23 AM UTC
different
A razor perhaps, maybe Pills, A Helping Hand Which do you choose? Which is in command? How did it come this far? The razor while sharp and thin easy enough to do with a steady hand Substain the pain bleed the troubles away whether just for a moment or for a lifetime The choice is yours one of the most painful yet nothing compared to the pain welled up inside Pills so many to choose like Russian Roulette no telling what damage it can do Whether a handful or a small few lying there still with shallowed breathes or the violent waves of disgust The choice is yours this is the complicated one of many yet still nothing compared to the pain welled up inside Lastly comes the helping hand The hand of a stranger The hand of a friend Whichever it may be They are your guardian angel sent for thee To help you light your way To set you on the right path from this dismay To hold you and keep you close To wipe your tears And warmth when you are froze Most people aren't lucky to have these so count your blessings well For if not, the question returns Which do you choose? The razor and its cold steel The pills and their game Neither should be the answer just pray
0
Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 11:15 PM UTC
Which Do You Choose?
The peak just vague in clouds, yet fails to tame hikers' wild hearts. On the fragment of petrifaction, I saw my own beauty reflected. Amidst the dusty wind, I heard my inner voice echoed. Footprints on shortcuts transform treads to tracks “Hi!” Golden gale tore the still moss Yet shallowed the brown might “Thank you!” Stamps lull taken steps into gone “Cheers!” Sheer lines “You’re close!” Grey clouds settled on the peak For no up-looking eyes to glance “Hi!” As if the small has always been the great. On mountains edge sun shines grace, without looking back a wild rabbit ran away. Greetings connecting the towering mights adorned the mountain with resounding sights that transcended the “Hi!”s Not upon
0
Sep 27, 2025
Sep 27, 2025 at 2:49 AM UTC
"Hi!"
It's terrifying. Writing is terrifying. The way you get addicted with words and how they come about from the recesses of your mind, seemingly forming themselves according to a syntax understood only by the primitive language of the soul. You try and try again to find that one moment which made you write your very own masterpiece but unable to. And while looking for it, you stumble upon another thought that slithered its way to your conscious and then you realize, this is amazing. Writing is amazing. Seemingly inexplicable feeling make themselves concrete. Tangible. Through words that you did not even realize you knew. It's amazing how writing unravels you. How you get to face and deal with your deepest desires and uncontrollable fears. Your long-buried shame and never healed wounds. How it makes you bleed out all of your negative emotions which sometimes leaves you dazed and confused due to the sudden burst of sunlight and you even wonder if you've got some loose screws upstairs. It's amazing how you just bare your soul for the world to read (judge) but you can't even care because it is what you feel. You even console yourself with the thought that, they're just strangers. Stranger you get to share and connect with even more than the friends you surround yourself with. It's liberating. But really terrifying. Writing drowns you in memories long buried and emotions long repressed and if not controlled, it pulls you under. Your broken record of the past plays over and over again until anger and pain and utter betrayal consumes you and trying but failing to swim to shallowed waters makes you give up. You surrender to the whirlpool of emotions starting to swirl within you. You sink and you spend the whole day wrapped up in your sheets with just your pen, your notebooks, your thoughts and emotions. Unwilling to cross the boundary between your room and reality with a storm still raging within you. So you let the ink of your subconcious stain the once pristine pages. The ticking of the clock seems a useless reminder of the passing time because it never bothers you. It's just you and your poetry. You start getting addicted with the feeling of being able to explain things for once, even if it is in the form of sappy and sometimes disturbing poetry. You crave for the release of pent up thoughts that never found the proper way from your heart, to your brain then your mouth. The usual stumbling words that leaves your lips now glides gracefully through the lines of the pages and it's heartbreakingly beautiful. That sometimes, you even isolate yourself to get under your "writing buzz". It's (un)healthy but addicting. Writing is an addiction I am very hesitant (unwilling) to give up.
0
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 12:58 PM UTC
It's very long I know but please bear with me.
It's terrifying. Writing is terrifying. The way you get addicted with words and how they come about from the recesses of your mind, seemingly forming themselves according to a syntax understood only by the primitive language of the soul. You try and try again to find that one moment which made you write your very own masterpiece but unable to. And while looking for it, you stumble upon another thought that slithered its way to your conscious and then you realize, this is amazing. Writing is amazing. Seemingly inexplicable feeling make themselves concrete. Tangible. Through words that you did not even realize you knew. It's amazing how writing unravels you. How you get to face and deal with your deepest desires and uncontrollable fears. Your long-buried shame and never healed wounds. How it makes you bleed out all of your negative emotions which sometimes leaves you dazed and confused due to the sudden burst of sunlight and you even wonder if you've got some loose screws upstairs. It's amazing how you just bare your soul for the world to read (judge) but you can't even care because it is what you feel. You even console yourself with the thought that, they're just strangers. Stranger you get to share and connect with even more than the friends you surround yourself with. It's liberating. But really terrifying. Writing drowns you in memories long buried and emotions long repressed and if not controlled, it pulls you under. Your broken record of the past plays over and over again until anger and pain and utter betrayal consumes you and trying but failing to swim to shallowed waters makes you give up. You surrender to the whirlpool of emotions starting to swirl within you. You sink and you spend the whole day wrapped up in your sheets with just your pen, your notebooks, your thoughts and emotions. Unwilling to cross the boundary between your room and reality with a storm still raging within you. So you let the ink of your subconcious stain the once pristine pages. The ticking of the clock seems a useless reminder of the passing time because it never bothers you. It's just you and your poetry. You start getting addicted with the feeling of being able to explain things for once, even if it is in the form of sappy and sometimes disturbing poetry. You crave for the release of pent up thoughts that never found the proper way from your heart, to your brain then your mouth. The usual stumbling words that leaves your lips now glides gracefully through the lines of the pages and it's heartbreakingly beautiful. That sometimes, you even isolate yourself to get under your "writing buzz". It's (un)healthy but addicting. Writing is an addiction I am very hesitant (unwilling) to give up.
Continue reading...
6