"shapen" poems
But will I come out
A diamond? Or mis-shapen?
When pressure's relieved
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 4:24 AM UTC
I am like water:
I am tender, yet bold
Your thought is my container
How much of me can it hold?
Do not underestimate me;
enlarge the container
For I am a mystery yet untold.
I am like water:
I take the shape of your container
Your thought is that container
I am to you as you think of me
Look into me; I am a reflection of yourself.
I am like water:
I go to where I flow
And I flow to where I go
And I'll always find a path to follow.
I am like water:
I cannot be understood
For I am beyond your horizon
Shapen the container as you like,
it will never form the true shape of me
My true self is free — it cannot be contained.
—JIBRIL ABDULMALIK
Apr 16, 2019
Apr 16, 2019 at 1:04 PM UTC
Hearts of steel don't exist
As hearts are fragile
Like glass thin and shapen
Taking on the pattern of rhythmic pulses
Blood racing to where our hearts are led
Hearts are fragile
Such that the heartless cannot fathom
The jagged sharp pieces ripping inside
And so they empty their chest
So that they can only see with their eyes
For if their heart controlled their eyes
They would turn blind
No heart in the slashes formed
No eyes in the heart that overwhelms the soul
Senses returning to base level zero
Hearts can only take so much
And if it were to break
Crack
How could it heal to the way that it used to be?
Oct 23, 2023
Oct 23, 2023 at 11:27 AM UTC
AS SURE AS SHOES IS SHOES
out of the interlocking needles
a sock
grows
hanging from its needles
the sock
a chrysalis
Auntie Marge's socks
as if a rainbow
had grown two feet
Auntie Marge's
infamous rainbow socks
flying off for Christmas
Paris..New York...Termonfeckin
nieces nephews children grandchildren
all wearing rainbow socks
the half grown sock
tick of a grandfather clock
wait for the mourners to return
her needles in a cigar tin
standing to
attention
sticking their heads
out of the bin
some large crochet needles
"As sure as shoes is shoes
I kept warm the feet
of this here family!"
clock cuts up Time
into little bits
so that the humans can understand
***
Her grandfather was a cobbler and would always say this whatever the situation. People would always need shoes...although the family of the cobbler often did without as shoes is what put food on the table.
But who is wurs shod, than the shoemakers wyfe, With shops full of newe shapen shoes all hir lyfe?
[1546 J. Heywood Dialogue of Proverbs i. xi. E1V]
All languages have same sounding adages...whatever the profession.
Les cordonniers sont les plus mal chaussés.
with a first quote by Montaigne : Quand nous veoyons un homme mal chaussé, nous disons que ce n'est pas merveille s'il est chaussetier in
In German:
Die Kinder des Schusters haben die schlechtesten Schuhe.
In Spanish (En casa de herrero, cuchillo de palo "In a blacksmith's home, knives are wooden").
In Chinese "the lady who sells fans fans herself with her hands",
In Arabic, "at the potter's house water is served in a broken jug".
***
Her grandfather was a cobbler and would always say this whatever the situation. People would always need shoes...although the family of the cobbler often did without as shoes is what put food on the table.
"Chomh cinnte is bróga atá bróga!" as she would say in her Irish.
Her grandfather would shorten it to" is bróga atá bróga!" or" shoes is shoes."
Feb 12, 2024
Feb 12, 2024 at 7:18 AM UTC
This is me.
The purest form of myself, in front of you today.
I'm a timid, analytical creature, sitting at the corner, just observing.
I am terrified to be standing here right now.
But this is also me, triumphing my fears and doing things that knock me off my socks.
"Wow, she must not always be her true self," you may think. Is it true, though?
I am not trying to put words into your mouth, or trying to make you think that I'm full of myself.
I want to share.
The idea of one's true self does not exist.
My essence lies in the fact that I really don't know who I am right now, or who I'll be in the future.
What if I knew who I was?
I would probably stick to being this timid little girl - hindering myself of all the possibilities that could shapen my personality.
My point is that timid me is me.
Confident me is also me.
Profane, rebellious me is also me.
Concealed, or raw; I am me.
I am the encompassment of all my personalities.
I may be a ***** with you, and I may be too liberal with you - but I will, still, always be myself - no matter who I'm trying to look like, sound like, or smell like.
This, is me.
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 12:37 AM UTC
Winding fingers,
Weave the thread,
That wrap me so comfortably in my fears,
Embracing.
Mould my mind,
Shamelessly encrypting my thoughts, Through and through.
Grown to shapen my impersonality,
Both for my lack there of,
And my tenancy for the impersonal.
Yet how,
Should be such a bond to my pains,
An Introspective perfection,
Or am I?
Or is that just my guise,
Impersonality guide my imperfection,
Interspective shapes my imperception.
Impossibilities in my inevitabilities.
I am.
Imperfection.
Jul 14, 2018
Jul 14, 2018 at 1:24 AM UTC
Cloud and water
Is a way of thinking
Of presumptive of being
Which calms the minds
Of those who see shadows
In every corner
And demons in every shadow alike
Cloud and water
And perfectly shapen sky
Jun 13, 2019
Jun 13, 2019 at 6:17 PM UTC
Like a worn hair tie,
They say you'll bounce back
But by then
You're all stretched out
And oddly shapen
You'll never quite fit
Into that old mold again
You'll be forever different.
Maybe even better
Maybe.
Even.
Better.
Feb 3, 2024
Feb 3, 2024 at 8:36 AM UTC
i lie on my stomach,
on damp green grass
next to my son
our arms resting on granite rock
still warm
from the sun's passing
i stare into the clear water of the pond
down past the great big lilypads
down past the koi, on sentry duty
down to the rocks rounded and smooth
that lie on the bottom, some covered with
algae beards and mustaches,
some bald
and shiny, pale
and deathly white
as tho the sun ignores them
some with messages
in the secret script of water snail scribes
none perfect
all marred or mis-shapen in some way
but together
they are a natural mosaic,
incredibly beautiful
and
somewhat mesmerising
Nov 27, 2017
Nov 27, 2017 at 7:40 AM UTC
E ndless wisdom of no bounds
H ewed space, no light, no sound
Y ielded self yet self surrounds
H eart pulsating life abound
Y ou see the end in the beginning
H iding death in the living
V oid shapen through Your giving
H ome to Heaven through forgiving
A ir and fire, water, earth,
D eath 'n life, endless rebirth,
N ature nurturing name of worth
Y earns in You to find safe berth
Apr 15, 2021
Apr 15, 2021 at 4:57 AM UTC
when you and i...
are apart, for a longer
length of time
i find....
i am a lop-sided,
mis-shapen thing.
stumbling along..
a straight and
narrow road.
simple things,
take more time
and difficult things,
are well... too...difficult.
it is not that,
i can't cope.
i do....
but life has,
become more
of a chore.
and less, of a game.
and it is the seperation.
i blame,
for the colours
becoming dull,
for the words
lacking purpose,
for the heart
beating too slowly,
for the sun
losing it shine,
and food, it's taste.
and for me,
becoming a....
whinging, whining
waste of space!
lop-sidely,
stumble-grumbling,
along....
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 7:26 PM UTC
If I could offer you anything other than my heart, I'd land you my ear, my hand, my arms and chest. You may pour all your troubles to me, every detail of annoyance and bother and I shall give you my attentive ear to listen. And when your hands feel cold and lonely, I'll take them with mine. I'll draw the lines and paths of which your palm have shapen. The viens that reached your wrist, I'd kiss them. And when your shoulders are broken, I'll put my arms around you. I'll press my chest against you. I'll hold you closer to my being. Even closer so our souls are intact.
Mar 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013 at 1:21 PM UTC
Angry full of fear
Hiding in a shell composed of
Bitchitude and fuck-yous
Just so afraid that love could never exist
Still fearful but not threatened
More self cognizant
Grown and shapen
Molded into **** well told you sos
Wrist slashing
Head bashing
Shot downing
Second hand high hounding
Poetry slamming
Novel pounding
Music writing
Run sighting
Broken mess
Seventeen hundredth choice
Self hating
********* in the making
Confident
Stitched together
High held chin
Knowledge of worth
My oh my
Have I come a long way
From just six months ago
Even if I didn't start changing
Until just three weeks ago
Aug 12, 2016
Aug 12, 2016 at 1:59 AM UTC
Shielding our imperfection into a twist
Of concealing veils
As to MR.clowns
HE was long, mis-shapen and forlorn
All his wifes ran away without a smile,
But full of a gaze unhallowed eyes of stone
Jun 13, 2019
Jun 13, 2019 at 6:55 AM UTC
With every thought,
You come to mind.
With every whisper,
Your name seems to be shapen.
I cannot run away from these thoughts of you,
And I would not wish to.
No matter how hard I concentrate on other matters
All I can think of is you.
I am captured by you,
A captive in my own mind.
And yet,
Freedom is not what I ask for.
Nov 4, 2016
Nov 4, 2016 at 4:39 PM UTC
*Summertime sadness
Black and white spring
Budding flower's madness
Into oddly shapen things
Freezing suddenly into depression
Death in fallen leaves
Everything is backwards
When you're away from me
Dabbling in strange evils
Disregarding the cost
Without you in my ear
Darling I'm just so lost
Rotten flesh tied with ribbons black as coal
The thoughts in silent heads are something no one dares to know
Crooked fingers **** my limbs
Now I'm in trouble
I can't win
I was born without innocence
Stained glass eyes
Rose tinted sin
Swaying diamonds before my eyes
Crumble pathetically into lies
Everything I've ever known
The silent walls that watch this home
Everything that's ever been
It always leads to something like this*
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 10:33 AM UTC