"shortcoming" poems
The world split in half
And on each end were lovers
The sun and the moon
Again and again
They chased each other
For days
Weeks
Months
Years
Decades
And only on certain occasions would it seem they passed closely
A day where the moon passed in front of the sun
We saw the earth go dark
Only for moments
And the silence we shed in awe
Aligning of the sun around the moon
And just like that
It went away again
The sadness they cried
Knowing they had to await another shortcoming while chasing the shadows of each other
But they still belonged together
Like yin and yang
We watched the sun dip below
When the moon began to shine
Looking meek it said goodbye
Time too short, time they seek
Again they wait
Years
Months
Weeks
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 2:02 AM UTC
This ***** ******
They say that beauty is in the eyes of the
Beholder, so does this ***** have eyes?
the power of evil and bad,
Today we see what it can do
Many a nation have gone to war,
Because of this ugly beauty,
many family units has been tread apart
Because of its evil doings,
The seven hundred wives of
King Solomon and his three
Hundred concubines was
a great example of what
the ugly beauty can do:
Infidelity is on the rise,
so many lies: so many shortcoming,
Lucy ****** is an embarrassing subject
why men lie and killed for it?
this remarkable commodity: with
****** is like a Van Gogh painting,
It gets lot of attention: the baseline dimensions
is still a mystery: A weapon so powerful
It can break a man down to his lowest
It has a language of its own.
silly words like sup, sup, sup.
the same sound effects of a cold beer going down
the gullets: the smoother, the esophagus: pleasers
The ****** and a beer have so much in common
they both get their men all the time,
a smooth transportation, in addition, the lamentation,
****** you are surely blissful:
Men incredible dreams
who wouldn’t want to own the team?
No matter how destructive or fulfilling:
** Ô, the wine of a woman from heaven is sent,
more perfect than all that a man can invent.”
― Roman Payne** Quote
Apr 29, 2018
Apr 29, 2018 at 2:07 PM UTC
My therapist once told me I turn crumbs into a cake,
a shortcoming for me to address.
Like when he visits for a day
after committing to two.
Or when he sends a heartfelt text
to cancel the next trip.
But is this such a bad thing?
Why not treat every small act of kindness as a meaningful gift?
Why not expect little and be surprised when you receive more?
Why not be grateful instead of hopeful?
Less is more.
Grace is amazing.
So if and when he brings me a cake,
I will radiate even more love and light.
Feb 23, 2019
Feb 23, 2019 at 8:40 PM UTC
she loved quickly
slipping into it like her favorite pair of pajamas
and he's the night
crisp and cool and right.
when the moon rose
with its shining silver light,
she realized for the first time
she loved him.
not just for who he was
and the way his heart changed hers,
but for every shortcoming
every tattered flaw and heavy load,
she loved him.
she wanted him.
and even though they weren't together
she knew that loving him wouldn't end
that every day when she woke
his name would be resting on her lips
and her love would only increase
day by day
until they were together again.
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 8:33 AM UTC
The faint hint of tension left the air pungent
a mordantly eerie undertone that I couldn't scrape from the sky
even with a sharp stare from bright eyes
there was a subconscious pause in your voice, the type of momentary disillusioned understanding of a shortcoming
the sudden realization of a lassitude onset left these battered feet aching to stop running
the tread was fresh, anxiously beckoning to simply go
an inner utterance gently murmuring no
perchance the time was not sufficient
quite possibly these watch hands that had seen better days, now judge time slightly different
their past experiences dictating the liveliness and youthful ticks of yesteryear to a far more relaxed tock with decades of chasing it's counterpart
I became the minutes to your hour, fruitlessly chasing you round the rotation to greet and depart with your change of heart
the seconds became the tension
building anticipation as I watched them sweep
feeling the next moment we'd meet, pain-stakingly creep
until I find myself here again air thick with tension, hanging still and pungent
I remain for a minute just watching the seconds keep running...
Feb 10, 2013
Feb 10, 2013 at 11:31 PM UTC
A void where when your affection dwelled,
A gorge profound, where satisfaction withstood.
Presently repeats wait, murmurs of agony,
A heart uncontrolled, lost in the downpour.
I meander through days, a ghost's phantom,
Tormented by recollections, a weighty expense.
Your giggling, a tune, presently a lament,
Your touch, a glow, presently an unpleasant flood.
The world appears to be dim, absent any and all shade,
An infertile scene, where nothing is new.
Each stage a battle, a fatigued situation,
Lost in the obscurity, without your light.
The evenings are unending, loaded up with despair,
An unpleasant quiet, stunning.
Your nonappearance, a consistent, a significant burden,
Pushing down on me, constantly.
I long for your presence, your caring hug,
To experience your glow, to see your face.
Be that as it may, distance keeps us separated, a horrible declaration,
A partition, difficult to see.
I look for comfort, everywhere,
In any case, track down no solace, no harmony, no Danny.
The world appears to be chilly, a relentless machine,
Without your adoration, I'm lost, concealed.
I attempt to occupy myself, with books and craftsmanship,
However, nothing can make up for the shortcoming in my heart.
The hurt of yearning, a consistent aggravation,
A significant weight, that I can't maintain.
I miss your grin, your giggling, your mind,
The manner in which you caused me to feel so fit.
Your affection was a fortune, a valuable gift,
Presently lost everlastingly, an excruciating fracture.
I long to hold you, to feel your touch,
To realize that our adoration, won't ever be squashed.
Be that as it may, destiny has mediated, a brutal wind,
Leaving me broken, lost, and uncontrolled.
I look for replies, however see as none,
Lost in a maze, where trust has gone.
The aggravation of partition, a weighty burden,
A weight excessively weighty, to be conveyed abroad.
I attempt to continue on, yet it's difficult to do,
At the point when each memory, carries me to you.
The prospect of losing you, perpetually, is a trepidation,
That torment my fantasies, a large number of years.
I trust sometime in the future, we'll see as our way back,
To the adoration we once had, a lovely track.
Up to that point, I'll continue, with overwhelming sadness,
Expecting a future, where we won't ever part.
Thus, I stand by, anxiously,
For the day when our adoration will vanquish demise.
At the point when we'll be brought together, by and by,
What's more, our hearts will retouch, and our adoration will rule.
Oct 11, 2024
Oct 11, 2024 at 12:46 AM UTC
I didn't see it coming;
I expected nothing else.
Thirteen years old, hiding behind the rules
so I didn’t have to face
that shortcoming, that missing piece.
Once I had accepted limitation as
the sublime:
something that would come in time.
The constraints, then, gave it meaning,
deciding who says what.
Syntax is rules, and rules are limitations.
Without them, we are-- what?
But in time I came to want it,
that freedom to--
I traded "pressure to not" for "pressure to do".
Peering through the rhetoric,
I ventured into the upper reaches, and
I came apart.
There was nothing to hold me together
in this elevator, its yellowed walls crumbling away.
“Not all freedom is good. You can have terrible freedom.”
Was it the mother or the Aunt that said this?
Or Friedrich “entsetzliche Freiheit”--
Ah, Schiller.
What of the Mrs? Did she have freedom
in her husband, in Richard F.?
More freedom in the
(cock-and-) (ball-and-) chains
than in the haze of youth?
The most, then, (it can be presumed)
from her departures: first to Alaska,
then even farther north, from where none return.
As freedom dissolved into expectation,
itself now another limitation, I wondered.
Which had it worse:
the woman (machine) outside the yellowing elevator walls,
or the girl (ghost) pacing within?
Aug 21, 2024
Aug 21, 2024 at 4:39 AM UTC
[I appreciate all of the people who have recently taken an interest in my writing since my poem was featured on the front page!]
"It is not the critic who counts;
not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles,
or where the doer of deeds could have done better.
The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena,
whose face is marred
by dust and sweat and blood;
who strives valiantly;
who errs,
who comes short again and again,
because there is no effort without error and shortcoming;
but who does actually strive to do the deeds;
who knows great enthusiasms,
the great devotions;
who spends himself in a worthy cause;
who at best knows in the end
the triumph of high achievement,
and who at worst,
if he fails,
at least fails while daring greatly,
so that his place shall never be
with those cold and timid souls
who neither know victory or defeat."
-Roosevelt
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 1:47 PM UTC
Once more return to the place of hate, hot with the warmth of the womb still after decades, receding like always into the presumed delirium held in that head of yours--but it's both the head and the heart that have ever boiled blood and pried tears and forced seclusion and withdrawal, and continue. Continue through the threshold keeping hidden decay at bay from the world of the waking, unnatural wooden floors keeping hidden the past inefficiency of care in your wrinkled hands, failing to the strength of the stench filling each passage and room in mist. I'm feeling now the way I felt for every instance within the walls. Towering over me when I close my eyes is the memory of the life I somehow saved and though living thoroughly broken beyond conventional means of disrepair, the despair now pales to the nightmare pressed angrily into the backsides of these eyelids. Days like print turned burning script against the black hole that might otherwise be home and sanctuary and ward to the intricate and frightful realities of the outer world, days that wind away and then back in dead drop and ascent that has not yet failed repetition, because of an inability to nurture nature that stemmed more from apathy and disinterest than any real shortcoming. Each time the world begins to end with the potential crashing sound of bone and flesh driving through the depths of the vacuum to pass through solid asphalt and concrete, I wake and the world flips. The trip to your bedroom sheds light on all the others, where once slept two souls aimless and needy, now sleeps decay that you began breeding from the spores formed in their lungs. Cats eyes like lightning slice through the mind as I wander your dark halls to the end where I myself fail at opening the door. I can't breathe. I can't look. I leave. There are things worse than the fragments of mind I clutch desperately as blankets under the Winter sky. What waits looks bad but I'll go if it's smiling or screaming. You. You can die in your numbered hole.
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 11:53 PM UTC
Before I found love,
I didn't know any better.
Before I found love,
I didn't understand what love was.
What love is.
Before I found love,
I fell.
I fell into a bottomless, empty, dark
Chasm.
A ditch I myself had dug up
With a ***** bent spoon.
Before I found love,
I would lie in bed.
But I was never alone.
I didn't want to.
I had to.
No, I wanted to.
I needed to.
There was something
Addicting
About the strong arms of another.
I couldn't stop myself
From constantly wanting.
From always needing.
From giving up everything.
Before I found love,
I thought I had love.
But all I had were eyes filled with dust,
A ***** spirit,
And a heart full of lust.
I thought I was in love.
But I was in lust.
Always wanting, never giving
Always receiving, never blessing
Impatient,
Cruel,
Jealous,
Proud,
Selfish love.
And not to mention, my hands were sore,
Bruised,
Broken,
And ugly
From the never-ending routine of
Digging myself deeper and
Deeper and deeper
And deeper into my chasm.
I was judged,
Misunderstood,
And tortured.
It came to a point where
People started throwing stones
And words.
They threw them as hard as they could.
They threw them at me as if their lives
Depended on hitting that target.
And let me tell you,
Their aim was fantastic.
Before I found love,
Love found me.
Found me lying on the ground.
Found me in ripped clothes,
Found me with a battered flesh,
And a bleeding heart.
Love looked deep into my eyes.
No, Love's look went past my eyes.
Love peered into my very soul,
My inmost being,
My heart of hearts.
Love could tell by my
Bloodshot eyes
And broken body,
That I had been anything but
Beautiful
Lately.
Love pierced my heart
And saw every shortcoming
Every failing
Every flaw and imperfection
I had.
Love saw my past,
And it didn't seem to matter.
Love looked at me,
Really looked at me,
and said to me
That I wasn't guilty.
And Love pulled me
Out of my chasm.
Love walked away.
And amazed me.
Love loved me before I loved Love,
And Love loved me while
I was still in that chasm.
Love pulled me out,
And sealed it so that I
Would never fall into that chasm again.
I followed Love,
One night,
And poured a sweet smelling
Perfume--- the best kind
On Love's feet.
And kissed them.
Hair undone.
Face tear-stained.
Love wiped everything away.
My past.
My wrongs.
My old life.
I looked deep into Love's eyes,
and heard Love say,
“She has done
A beautiful thing
To me.”
A beautiful thing.
A beautiful thing.
I did it for Love.
Feb 10, 2012
Feb 10, 2012 at 6:29 AM UTC
Not everything can be comprehended
Although few things might exist in obscurity
Before we condemn and deny their presence
We should either try to look for a path
That leads to the obscure existence
Bring them to the light and let the eyes believe
Or we can live in complete denial and not try
If we fail to comprehend, it’s not a shortcoming
May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 9:38 AM UTC
"My favorite thing about her would have to be her personality:
Mean, snide, lazy, insincere,
manipulative, controlling, cowardly,
condescending, territorial, insecure,
entitled, selfish, superficial, capricious,
disrespectful, brash, immature,
foolish, arrogant, pretentious,
rude, holier-than-thou, insipid,
and even a little bit childish.
What's not to grovel and worship?
Truly, I cannot think of even one shortcoming."
Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 12:05 PM UTC
Certainly there are moments in life when life seems to be absolutely strange.
The moment it was understood that things are over was the same moment in time when the importance of present moment in time was understood, realized and also accepted.
Shortcoming, limitation of scope with regards to the future and rest of the other things were followed by this understanding in the present moment of time.
Strange seems life,
strange, absolutely strange at times.
Still it’s life and life continues
Better to wait for the right moment in time
Better to be cautious, careful and then carefully take the next step and follow the same.
Unexpected things do happen and keep following in life
Still with all the ups and downs in life,
always it's better to be on the safe side.
Agreed that an uncertain future needs to be ascertained,
but then the present cannot be put at stake for the sake of worries about the future.
Strange seems life,
strange, absolutely strange at times.
Still it’s life and life continues.
No matter what new thing comes across mind
No matter how odd, difficult and troublesome is the obstacle in the present moment of time
Still it’s always possible to remove the odd that comes along the way
The only thing that needs to be there in mind is determination, which
makes everything happen at the right moment.
Always remember
You have got one life, in this one life you have got chances and opportunities.
No one really knows how much or how many.
So be wise,
play safe,
but do take a calculated risk.
Time has played a major role in deciding and ascertaining what’s possible and what’s beyond the present moment in time.
So ascertain the future only when the need of the hour says so,
otherwise continue with what’s going on in mind at the present moment in time.
It’s life
Strange seems life,
strange, absolutely strange at times.
Still it’s life and life continues.
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 9:21 AM UTC
ROBIN WILLIAMS
The funniet man in history
died today.
A true power to create
and give happiness
left our race intentionally.
A man who could make numerous
toys from a plain stick.
A man who being human
sufferred to endure his
existence....I am empathetic.
It is a shortcoming
when we cannot even show
true brilliance its own reflection;
or have that source of brilliance
believe it; or even coerce it
to accept the possibility of being worthy.
For if he could have seen
all total of all of the laughter
that he had created
all at once?
Would he have been overwhelmed
by his creation? We were.
What if he could have accepted
his happiness open hearted,
then maybe he could have
found a reason
to wait until tomorrow
Again,
to see if it would be better,
instead of deciding that today
was the last laugh.
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 4:08 PM UTC
Maleable my metallic resolve
bending pliable with each shortcoming or flaw
tempered by the trials by fire I find myself withstanding
shrinking and expanding
under the fluctuation of your patience
steady now, the once shimmering finish that set my cold iron heart apart
finally begins to start
rusting
whenever I'm trusting
the words you spill as water seeping into my exterior, meticulously working grooves
in the battered smooth
surface
watch me oxidize
before your eyes
let your acid words etch away at my forged desires
broken hearts need only the fire
to scorch away the past, molten and awaiting a new love to be forged
broken hearted into the fire once more...
Feb 15, 2013
Feb 15, 2013 at 12:02 AM UTC
She is the incarnation of true love
The love that is enigmatic!
She is every beats of my heart
The heart which is abundant with her love
She is the soul to my body
The body which she prudent with her love and care
She is the mentor of my life
The life where she immersed me with euphoria
She is the light of my darkness
The light of hope and encouragement
Her qualities are beyond the horizon
She loves me to the eternity, so do I
I will love her every bit,
But it saddens me that even if I give all my love to her it will always be a shortcoming.
Because her love for me is enigmatic !!
But still "oh dear mother I love thee!!"
Aug 3, 2020
Aug 3, 2020 at 7:52 AM UTC
Waves of calmness wash over me
Seas of weariness tire me
I drown in my emptiness
I scream for help but I'm too far out at sea
I'm being dragged down under
My foot's caught in the net of your affection
In my desolation, I'll yield to my shortcoming
I crave the attention
I need the adoration
My soul has sinned father
Save me from these monsters out at sea
-c.a.
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 5:03 AM UTC
"I don't know how to live"
-Sharon Olds
To be honest, I don't know either. Like, I'm clueless right now. I'll tell you when I've figured it out. I'll tell you when I'm dead and gone and can look back at my life and tell you all my mistakes and shortcoming. Then I'll be telling you all my regrets and what ifs and thats no way to live.
So instead of living as a look back with a sense of nostalgia and "what if"
live in the now.
Take each moment in stride. Treasure the little things.
The times you smiled, the times you laughed, the times you held someone's hand and the times you wrote on paper with a good pen
Treasure the water ballon fights, the falling in publics.
Treasure even that time you laughed so hard milk came out your nose.
Sleep in, play hooky.
Cry every once in a while.
Learn from your mistakes, or make them all over again.
Take everything with a grain of salt and a sprinkle of sugar.
Learn to let go what needs to be let go
and hold on to everything you hold dear.
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 8:49 AM UTC
I am not perfect
I am well aware of that
But I know that I am enough!
I am good enough
I am smart enough
I am enough!
I am pretty enough
I am nice enough
I am enough!
I am polite enough
I am educated enough
I am enough!
I am faithful enough
I study enough
I am enough!
It is not my responsibility
Nor is it my duty
To prove myself worthy of your high opinion.
You are the insecure one
And you take it out on me
That is your shortcoming.
One day soon, you'll regret it all
As I walk out that door
And I never look back.
I am ENOUGH
And it is high time
That you saw it!
Nov 30, 2016
Nov 30, 2016 at 2:54 PM UTC
You seem like something incarnate
Something like the ocean
It loves, weeps, kisses the shore
It defies all attempts
At being captured with words
And rejects all lyrical shackles
A poet’s only shortcoming
No matter what I can say about you
There is always that which I can’t
You are the ocean and I am your shore.
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 9:31 PM UTC
i don't know
what is wrong
with knowing
where you want to go,
where you want to be
and who you want to be with.
why is it
that every time i give too much
i get nothing back,
and when i dont give anything
things seem to fall in my lap?
maybe my short coming
is that i want to love a good woman
and i want to be a good man
but i haven't learned the one lesson
that will help me find the way
to her.
i spend too much thinking
about how its going to be
and i forget to live for me,
at least for a little,
just for me.
but that is also a problem,
for when a good woman loves me
i don't know where to go,
i don't know what to do,
or how to learn to love her.
i like her company
but im not ready, and panic,
and end up hurting her.
how do i make up for it?
i give everything
to the one with a shortcoming
and the whole thing starts over.
and then i start
all over again,
i want a good woman,
but im not a good man,
i am not ready
and i know she's not ready
because we've all got
shortcomings.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 4:53 AM UTC
The clock is ticking,
The tension is building,
The crowd of competitors is thinning,
The air is filled with the chills of cutthroat rivalry.
At this point coursing through my veins is adrenaline giving me the courage and telling me," I CAN DO IT. "
But how can I ignore the darkness within me,
a voice whisper " What if .....?"
"What if you fail?" " What if you forget? " "What if you make a fool out of yourself? "
I'm lost.
Forced to my feet by a distant call I rise. I find myself on center stage facing a multitude of stares. The crowds have now begun to resemble a hungry pack of wolves tearing into the fragile fabric of my being. Like a fledgling's first flight I take a leap of faith and I begin to speak. The words begin to flow out of me as the dam of my inhibitions shatters. The stares that once threatened to engulf me are now filled with wonder and awe as my aura captivates the crowd. The shackles of stage fright that held me back have now given way as I emerge from myself a new being devoid of the shroud of fear and adorned by a glistening veil of confidence and control.
I felt lighter than before. I now stood with my head held high, a master of my shortcoming, a master of my fear. That's when it dawned on me Does winning matter anymore? Will that piece of metal change the person that I have become? and that's when I realized.
It is not winning or losing that matters but participation. It is the thrill of a challenge, the fear of failure, and the joy praise that makes you who you are.
And that is when I asked myself....
Is The Medal All I'm Worth?
Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 2:34 PM UTC
It's my fault, my shortcoming..
Believing the words, they matched the actions.
A lifetime of memories, comfort, laughs....
Over, abrupt, shocking.
I found out from a stranger your name was not "friend"
It is Judas.
It's my fault.
Sep 12, 2013
Sep 12, 2013 at 12:17 PM UTC
You are my shortcoming.
Weak spot.
fragile ground that I have to walk on oh so carefully.
Mentally I cry as I run by you, rethinking why I’m descending downward, looking for an ounce of logic or reasoning, I’m becoming psychotic and idiotic.
This glass covered in dust that I’m walking on surrounds me, and the dust bounds and grabs me and I’m astounded.
You’re mind is like glass, easily shattered if I utter breathlessly or otherwise carefully words of opinion or notion.
And yet again I ponder why I feel this way towards you.
I have to watch my words next to you or you will become furious and serious,you become a dazed, crazed man that harms and alarms me.
And still, my emotions towards you are messed up at best.
I’m depressed and stressed.
I’m getting further and further distant from that glass heart that is abstract art.
Why do I stay?
My bruised and abused heart can’t take this anymore.
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 6:02 PM UTC