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"showing" poems
Stop showing You love me A little at a time. Stop saying You care Bit by bit. Stop keeping Me here For tiny pieces of time. Because I need All of you Not piece by piece. I love All of you Not just some parts of you. So love all of me All the way All the time. Or let all of me go All at once For good.
0
Nov 22, 2011
Nov 22, 2011 at 2:07 AM UTC
Whole
#*O morning sky of endless blue Tinged with purply-pinky hue You tell me of His mercies new Whose heart pursues my own O geese in wingèd winter's flight Your honking cries arouse delight And lift my gaze to seek thy sight As wooing from His hand O softest breeze which skims my face And stirs with such mysterious grace My soul to reach for Love’s embrace You brush me with His kiss O snowflakes falling to the ground You pierce my heart without a sound To crave a purity only found Beneath a bloodied cross O setting sun in half-light glowing Waning day’s last glorious blush showing You paint with fire my spirit’s own knowing— This life is fading fast O stars of midnight’s blackest sky Paraded forth, you pull my eye Toward One Who speaks this ceaseless cry: “I’m coming back for you.” O creeping fog to dawn’s light clinging You whisper, Love’s veiled message bringing, With haunting echoes faintly singing, “Lose all of you in Him.”*#
0
Dec 7, 2016
Dec 7, 2016 at 10:09 AM UTC
Ode to a Winter's Day
Sitting on the corner while Starring At the glances of your smile all over Cover the room by your face unveiling Up to this moment, I want to be near, (you were a mile from here) Thinking It was cloudy on my mind, But when you are here by my side You are making my day as bright Showing the beauty behind, (They have nothing to hide, nothing to hide.) How deep is the ocean trenches? How far is the stars throughout the abyss? How much warm is your embraces? How much cold Is your lips to kiss? l don’t much care about counting all of these, As long as you are with me, you are my bliss (I could tell,) heaven’s gate is not the place of happiest And angels are not those prettiest, Indeed, God is always be the wisest, For sending me a fallen angel, I’ve caught the brightest, the brightest Lately, You stole what between these lungs You open my chest, You let it pour, my bleeding heart I cant deny, how i feel, you are my crush I have been stunned on Your eye lashes, (glances, perfume scents, and blushes) How deep is the ocean trenches? How far is the stars throughout the abyss? How much warm is your embraces? How much cold Is your lips to kiss? Do I have to care about all of that anymore, As long as you are with me, what should I have to ask for? Emerald, jade, diamond, gold and silver, I guess nothing is forever, unless me and you In this world of deception, anyone can be a liar Just remember, Nothing is to fear, I am always here. .......I am always here.
0
Nov 1, 2018
Nov 1, 2018 at 8:19 AM UTC
Sonnet for YOU
I am no longer the Steady thrum of heartbeats When issues against women are Comically displayed on televisions. Like there's something to Laugh, guffaw, snicker, snort-- Tell you what, I can name a little Too many synonymous words And I can slap them all to your face, too. I am no longer a suppressed voice, Unable to tell you and all the other people That as a girl (and a woman, later), I have the right to be here. I have the same rights to life, To be alive, to be secure, To have a good life! And yet, you, who calls yourself a Man of power, tells me, "You are nothing." I am angry with the absurdity Of it all. Men continuing to abuse, Women constantly cowering down-- Why are you so intent on showing power When you are not God? Why are you so afraid of fighting For yourself? I am seething with rage For those who refuse to accept Feminism just for the reason That they do not want to be labeled-- Well, guess what? They have already Shoved you underneath Weak and Submissive. Who taught you that you are born To impress men? Who taught you that you only exist To please them? I will not have any of that **** I am a person of my own. I am a human being, with rights. And I AM FIGHTING to have The same rights as you do. Whoever told you that that's Never gonna happen, can shove it up Their ***** I will not sit still on my chair while The next police officer Asks "Well, what were you wearing?" To the next **** victim. You and I both know that is not The issue here. No girl should hung their head in shame That they got touched without consent. It's not their fault! No one Deserves to be ***** And no, it's not snuggling, for you who Even thought **** jokes on t-shirts Are funny. It's not. I am for Gender Equality. For both men and women, Gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, To be treated with equal respect. With equal opportunities. With equality. With no judgment. Why must you counter that? Look, I've been sitting in that same chair For too long while issues spread and get Larger like the plague. I thought, let them handle it. I thought, a small voice would be of no help. But when did sitting down and staring Get people somewhere? When did any of passivity help us? We already have everything to lose So why not fight? Bruce Banner told the other avengers The secret of Hulk. And I tell you the same: Get angry. Smash inequality. I will always be right behind you.
0
Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 2:42 AM UTC
I am fighting.
I am no longer the Steady thrum of heartbeats When issues against women are Comically displayed on televisions. Like there's something to Laugh, guffaw, snicker, snort-- Tell you what, I can name a little Too many synonymous words And I can slap them all to your face, too. I am no longer a suppressed voice, Unable to tell you and all the other people That as a girl (and a woman, later), I have the right to be here. I have the same rights to life, To be alive, to be secure, To have a good life! And yet, you, who calls yourself a Man of power, tells me, "You are nothing." I am angry with the absurdity Of it all. Men continuing to abuse, Women constantly cowering down-- Why are you so intent on showing power When you are not God? Why are you so afraid of fighting For yourself? I am seething with rage For those who refuse to accept Feminism just for the reason That they do not want to be labeled-- Well, guess what? They have already Shoved you underneath Weak and Submissive. Who taught you that you are born To impress men? Who taught you that you only exist To please them? I will not have any of that **** I am a person of my own. I am a human being, with rights. And I AM FIGHTING to have The same rights as you do. Whoever told you that that's Never gonna happen, can shove it up Their ***** I will not sit still on my chair while The next police officer Asks "Well, what were you wearing?" To the next **** victim. You and I both know that is not The issue here. No girl should hung their head in shame That they got touched without consent. It's not their fault! No one Deserves to be ***** And no, it's not snuggling, for you who Even thought **** jokes on t-shirts Are funny. It's not. I am for Gender Equality. For both men and women, Gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, To be treated with equal respect. With equal opportunities. With equality. With no judgment. Why must you counter that? Look, I've been sitting in that same chair For too long while issues spread and get Larger like the plague. I thought, let them handle it. I thought, a small voice would be of no help. But when did sitting down and staring Get people somewhere? When did any of passivity help us? We already have everything to lose So why not fight? Bruce Banner told the other avengers The secret of Hulk. And I tell you the same: Get angry. Smash inequality. I will always be right behind you.
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81
No one can see how you feel. people say the feelings deep within you should leave them alone. showing feelings deep within is like playing with fire, you will get burned. No one wants to show their feelings if they fear they will get burned.
0
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 8:06 PM UTC
Feelings deep within
Nan, I wrote this poem for you to keep As you lie peacefully asleep To share the stories you once told Sat in your chair growing peacefully old I will always remember those days When I sat up to the table studying the maze Of thousands of puzzle pieces in my gaze However I was never fazed Because you were always there to guide the way. I will always remember your trips out and about Although never adventurous I felt, McDonald's and M&s; without doubt, Were you favourite places to walkabout I will always remember your creative flare, Your knitting needles and you cross-stitch squares, how you could sit and chat, yet knit with care Always seemed so unfair But most of all, I wrote this poem to say thankyou Not just from me but from all the family too For the wisdom and knowledge you once shared For showing you loved us and that you cared I wrote this poem to say goodbye As you watch us from up high I remember all the fun times we had As my friend and as my Nan And I miss you more than words can say I hope we can meet again someday
0
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 5:37 PM UTC
Nan, may you rest in peace
“Moby ****  Herman Melville <•> ~for the lost at sea~ after a year of saltwater absence and abstinence, return to the island caught between two land forks surrounded by river-heading flows bound for the ocean great joining the Atlantic welcomes the fresh water fools, bringing with them hopefully, but hopeless gifts of obeisances, peace-offerings endeavoring to keep their infinite souls sea accepts them then drowns the warm newcomers in the unaccustomed deep cold salinity, which sometimes erodes sometimes preserving their former freshwater cold originality I’m called to depart my beach shoreline  unarmed, no kayak, sunfish or glass bottomed boat needed, walk on water and my toes, ten eyes to see the bottom, no depth perception limitation, reading the floor’s topography, millions of minion’s stories infinite, many Munch screaming god’s foot, heavy upon my shoulders, a daytime travel guide, hired for me, not a friendly travel companion,  nope, God a pusher showing off a drug called deep water salvation, designated for the masses, can handle large parties my in-camera brain  eyes, record everything for playback - the lost and unburied, bone crossword puzzles walk shore to ship, on soles to souls, is this my new-summer nature welcome back greeting? puzzled at the awesomeness of vastness, conclude this clarification for me of the occluded-deep, is a stern reminder of my insignificant existence, my requirement to walk humbly, spare my sin of vanity, and forgive my trespasses upon the lives of others perhaps then the infinite of my soul perchance restored, older visions clarified and future poems will write themselves and sea to it my predecessors be better remembered Memorial Day 2018
0
May 28, 2018
May 28, 2018 at 11:53 AM UTC
“the sea... jeeringly...drowned the infinite of his soul...to wondrous depths...he saw God’s foot upon the treadle of the loom and spake it”
“Moby ****  Herman Melville <•> ~for the lost at sea~ after a year of saltwater absence and abstinence, return to the island caught between two land forks surrounded by river-heading flows bound for the ocean great joining the Atlantic welcomes the fresh water fools, bringing with them hopefully, but hopeless gifts of obeisances, peace-offerings endeavoring to keep their infinite souls sea accepts them then drowns the warm newcomers in the unaccustomed deep cold salinity, which sometimes erodes sometimes preserving their former freshwater cold originality I’m called to depart my beach shoreline  unarmed, no kayak, sunfish or glass bottomed boat needed, walk on water and my toes, ten eyes to see the bottom, no depth perception limitation, reading the floor’s topography, millions of minion’s stories infinite, many Munch screaming god’s foot, heavy upon my shoulders, a daytime travel guide, hired for me, not a friendly travel companion,  nope, God a pusher showing off a drug called deep water salvation, designated for the masses, can handle large parties my in-camera brain  eyes, record everything for playback - the lost and unburied, bone crossword puzzles walk shore to ship, on soles to souls, is this my new-summer nature welcome back greeting? puzzled at the awesomeness of vastness, conclude this clarification for me of the occluded-deep, is a stern reminder of my insignificant existence, my requirement to walk humbly, spare my sin of vanity, and forgive my trespasses upon the lives of others perhaps then the infinite of my soul perchance restored, older visions clarified and future poems will write themselves and sea to it my predecessors be better remembered Memorial Day 2018
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44
Give them to me. All the pieces of your broken heart. Give them to me. I'll take them. All the rough-hewn misshapen bits of your shattered dreams. Give them to me. I will take them. Give them to me. They are wanted here. All the parts of your misspent childhood. All the regrets of ticking seconds behind you. Give them to me. And we will build a cathedral. A stained glass window of who we are as tall and as beautiful as it should be. Let me have them. And we will make a mosaic that stretches as wide as the sky. Showing every color your heart gained from the bits and pieces left on the ground. I will take them. And forge a sculpture of how beautiful the ideas are that we cast out in our failings and we will cast it in our failings. Let me have them. And we will ***** a monument of all the small things in the shape that you remember them. Towering. Looming. Striking. Beautiful. Let me have them so we might bind the words said and regretted, (or worse) left unsaid in leather and call it scripture. Our Psalms. Our Proverbs: *“The tip of my finger dangles like my tongue. Wanting to touch something beautiful.” “If it were not for him, it would have been us.” “You were all my brightest colors.” “I wish I were more like you.” “I wish I were less like me.” “I am sped.”* And we will read them at dawn like litany. Stretching our voices to the corners of the universe. Asking for the wishes you make when you are scared. Or alone. Or both. That we may take them. And make a blanket. A blanket to cover our childhood and let it rest at last. I will take them. All the parts you no longer want. Give them to me. Because they are what make us beautiful. Give them to me. That I may forge them into pitch and feathers and craft mighty wings. That I may take flight from your worry. And soar on the updraft of your misconception. Give them to me. I will take them. Because I would rather burn like Icarus than to have never dared to fly.
0
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 4:02 PM UTC
Mosaic
Give them to me. All the pieces of your broken heart. Give them to me. I'll take them. All the rough-hewn misshapen bits of your shattered dreams. Give them to me. I will take them. Give them to me. They are wanted here. All the parts of your misspent childhood. All the regrets of ticking seconds behind you. Give them to me. And we will build a cathedral. A stained glass window of who we are as tall and as beautiful as it should be. Let me have them. And we will make a mosaic that stretches as wide as the sky. Showing every color your heart gained from the bits and pieces left on the ground. I will take them. And forge a sculpture of how beautiful the ideas are that we cast out in our failings and we will cast it in our failings. Let me have them. And we will ***** a monument of all the small things in the shape that you remember them. Towering. Looming. Striking. Beautiful. Let me have them so we might bind the words said and regretted, (or worse) left unsaid in leather and call it scripture. Our Psalms. Our Proverbs: *“The tip of my finger dangles like my tongue. Wanting to touch something beautiful.” “If it were not for him, it would have been us.” “You were all my brightest colors.” “I wish I were more like you.” “I wish I were less like me.” “I am sped.”* And we will read them at dawn like litany. Stretching our voices to the corners of the universe. Asking for the wishes you make when you are scared. Or alone. Or both. That we may take them. And make a blanket. A blanket to cover our childhood and let it rest at last. I will take them. All the parts you no longer want. Give them to me. Because they are what make us beautiful. Give them to me. That I may forge them into pitch and feathers and craft mighty wings. That I may take flight from your worry. And soar on the updraft of your misconception. Give them to me. I will take them. Because I would rather burn like Icarus than to have never dared to fly.
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42
Clouds know true desire. Gracefully lifting childhood hearts. Pat adults on the back who miss days of old, Fishing for simple strings to hold on to. Don't fool a heavy heart, Can't love somebody one day Then the next, never could. Clouds understand what motives are. Do we act the same- no, Will we admit it- no. The sky winks though, as fire and nature collide. Don't mind showing mankind that nothing stays the same. Things change.
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Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 4:13 PM UTC
Clouds
She was not just "asking for it" Her skirt showing her long limbs She is not one to submit Or to give up when told to quit She will not stand for your catcall For your whistle and "hey there, doll" You should not be appalled Because she really can rule it all She is fierce and she is true She's neither higher nor lower, but she is equal to you Her body is not just something you can tear down and ***** So, pack your things and say adieu She is feminine As well as pure adrenaline Cease to examine this "specimen" And become a true gentleman
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May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 3:23 PM UTC
Sexism Debunked
There you are, standing in the hall with the moonlight cascading onto your skin, showing off the silhouette of your beautiful body. I curse the Moon because it gets to touch you first. As I try to control my inner desire, for one brief moment, I allow my mind to race in desire. Alas! I settled the discussion, I settled the debate and concluded at this one beautiful thing spoke your true fate:  'Gorgeous.' Gorgeous is your skin. Gorgeous is your smile. Gorgeous the way you walk.  Gorgeous when I hear you talk.  Gorgeous. (Wild thoughts) With my eyes I summoned you, laughing at the Moon as it is no longer kissing your beautiful skin. As I lay you down on the bed I slowly open your legs, I can already smell your nectar. I, like a hummingbird am drawn to your forbidden nectar, then for a brief moment I hear your heart skip a beat. I blow on your ******** now warm to the touch, you let out a soft moan 'ahhhh, love, don't stop'. With a smooth deep soft voice I uttered 'your wish will always be my command' I was truly wrapped in the moment.
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Mar 13, 2018
Mar 13, 2018 at 9:05 PM UTC
Moment
The great thing is not having a mind. Feelings: oh, I have those; they govern me. I have a lord in heaven called the sun, and open for him, showing him the fire of my own heart, fire like his presence. What could such glory be if not a heart? Oh my brothers and sisters, were you like me once, long ago, before you were human? Did you permit yourselves to open once, who would never open again? Because in truth I am speaking now the way you do. I speak because I am shattered.
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26.8k
The Red Poppy
Streams of colour In constant motion showing shades of beauty hidden Powered by the wind As it caresses the river of scent Gently, softly, lovingly And moves through the rows Never stopping, always moving Following the wind Lavender tributaries in a Sensual  scented sea of colour Never ending.
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Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 11:34 AM UTC
Lavender
***** I like ***** I like **** before you touch, you must get permits. Nothing like a nice pair of assets, oh how puppies make nice pets. Bazongas are ***** that are large, strippers and hookers, will always charge. Nothing like the perfect ***** but only on the perfect woman. ******* are yummy dark or white, but first you must wait for an invite. Some girls even have a third ****** do not squeeze says Mr. Whipple. I don't mind girls on the itty, bitty, ***** committee, on a carpenters dream, I show no pity. They could be called a bust, some call them cans, a woman's squeeze box, all men are fans. Chesticles is a term I have never heard, but everyday, I learn a new word. I like cones, I like jugs, girls with big ones, I give hugs. Al Bundy loved calling them ******* at the restaurant, I wish I was one of the recruiters. A girl with a nice set of knockers, might find herself with unwanted stalkers. Fergie sang about her lovely lady lumps, a good set of melons, still give me goose bumps. ***** always come in a pair, why do bra's, they have to wear. Even men who smoke lots of crack, still can appreciate a good sized rack. I don't care if there fake or real. in a crowded room, I always cop a feel. Girls love showing off some cleavage, I wish I lived in a ***** village. Babies need breast milk to make them stronger, if the mom is hot, they may do it longer. In conclusion, I love ***** with whipped cream or melting ice cubes.
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Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 3:49 PM UTC
*****
When the darkness comes. I will be waiting for it. With my eyes open wide. With my soul still pure. And with my soul still intact. I will fight with pride. With no going back. I will try not to fall. I will stand my ground. Never bow down my head. Let the darkness engulf me. For my lady's light glows. Her love gives me strength. Against the impossible odds. Showing me the way.
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Oct 7, 2009
Oct 7, 2009 at 4:32 AM UTC
When The Darkness Comes
Every day we pass thousands of people on the street, and barely even a hello is exchanged, maybe a smile if your lucky. It might be a little funny to think that each of these people are going wherever they are going, they are living their lives and you have the opportunity to be apart of it even if it's just five seconds. You can do a lot with five seconds, for all you know a quick smile to someone passing by might change their life. Despite someone's appearance, they could be a completely different person that you might expect, breaking the stereotype. The sweet old women sitting next to you on the train, smiling and talking as if the world was heaven, is counting her numbered days. The coloured man across from you with the bloodied knuckles and bruised face saved a teenage girl from being ***** last night. The 18-year-old girl on the other side of the train, showing more skin than clothing in a ****** And the boy in the corner covered in tattoos and piercings and is wearing only black is on his way to the hospital to read to the children in the cancer wing like he does every afternoon ever since he lost his little sister. My point is simple, nothing is rarely as it seems. Each stranger you pass has there own story. Don't judge based off what you see because your vision is a misconception.
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Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 1:42 PM UTC
Breaking Stereotypes like Breaking Glass
I am not required to love you. Let's get that straight. Neither man nor woman Is obligated to profess And show their undying love for you, Just as the sun doesn't revolve around the world, The world doesn't revolve around you. A series of acts showing your "kindness" Is not a contract for a relationship. The very fact that you have to shout How you are a "nice guy" Shows how you aren't; Kindness doesn't need reassurance. To be frank, This whole delusion Is getting a bit out of hand (see: the ****** Killer", a guy so sexually frustated He killed people for not giving him the right to get laid). Maybe, hear me out here guys, it's not because girls only look for "bad guys". Maybe we look for soulmates, Not Good Samaritans with hidden agendas. This may come off as a shock for some of you, But all-around goodness isn't equal to treating girls nicely Only because you might have a chance. So if your mating dance Consists of acting like you're an angel And simultaneously complaining About the blindness And insolence of women, It's high time you should stop. Put down the fedora while you're at it. It's become a symbol for gentlemen for you, But now it's a warning sign for us: "Beware the self-entitling guy!" Honestly, we cringe every single time. And darling, Nice guys always finish last because they whine Instead of running.
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Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 9:28 AM UTC
Re: The Friendzone and Nice Guys
Depression is my soulmate He fell in love with me He couldn't wait Depression lays in bed with me at night Follows me in my dreams Holds me back from the light He wants me all to himself He whispers sweet nothings in my ear Convincing me I can't survive by myself I try to get away but he holds so tight He says I  have to stay He pulls me close, slow dances with me When I'm with him , he recites every bad memory of the day I start to believe this is all my life will be I want to think it isn't true but is it? it might be? I have no clue Depression doesn't like when I have a friend He gets jealous of happiness He makes a big fuss and that's usually the end When they leave, he reminds me that hes here to stay I lay in bed crying He comes in, holds me till I'm okay I know I should get away, find help But not even my mother believes me ... whelp Depression meet my parents without my knowing He made them think when I'm free from him ,the real me isn't showing I guess hes my better half The side of me that makes them laugh But I can't get away, its too late I lost the key to freedom's gate Apparently this is my fate Depression is my soulmate
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Sep 19, 2018
Sep 19, 2018 at 11:48 AM UTC
Depression is my soulmate
Don't lose your confidence Never distrust Providence Remove your ignorance Accumulate tolerance Patience is a must Your mind, you dust Body mustn't rust Always be honest Hopefully you live In God, ever believe The best, you give Better to forgive Choose the right path To toil, take an oath God and hope, trust both Don't die like a brittle moth God-faith helps thrive As He makes us survive Our belief, He does revive He helps peace to be alive Take efforts and await After showing your might Being happy is right As joy, you can sight True efforts never die They appeal to the Sky God keeps His eye Upon those who try Good luck my dear Pursue without fear If hard-work is here No place for tear mvvenkataraman
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Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 5:02 AM UTC
Work and God Rule the Sod
You sat on the other end of the table Glistening, shining, and taunting me Rosy cheeks with spurts of Yellow and Green Silently teasing A juicy, little Apple. Hopefully no one would see me, no one would pay any attention As I grabbed the treat and the knife And began to dangerously peel. I knew I was doing it wrong My hands shaking while my cheeks began to flush Embarrassed by my ignorant inadequacy. Are you left-handed? she asked from my left. Humiliation filled the corners of my eyes, wet and distraught. No, I mumbled. My cheeks reflecting Mose's Red Sea. I was beginning to drown. Your thumb needs to move, You make me nervous, and she sounded nervous indeed. Put it down here. Help yourself control it. Guide it. Everyone was staring now, the whole table awed My ignorance showing, like a medallion at my chest My shameful Apple as pathetic proof. You're doing it wrong. Non così. Basta, faccio io. Let me do it. You're about to graduate, and you can't peel an apple. I began choking, drowning in tears of Humiliation. No, let her do it the small Voice on my left said. She is finding her way. Let me watch her. I finished peeling the Apple Suffocating my tears as I ate. You remind me of Daisy, she said soon after From The Great Gatsby. I choked and laughed, more ashamed than ever. I'm not sure that is a compliment. I could barely muster a mumble. She couldn't do anything by herself. She looked at me, gentle and forgiving. I think it is, she replied Wistful and Wise. Daisy was vital to the story, you know. And I believe that given the chance, she could have done anything that she wanted On her own.
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May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 6:27 PM UTC
growing up Daisy
You sat on the other end of the table Glistening, shining, and taunting me Rosy cheeks with spurts of Yellow and Green Silently teasing A juicy, little Apple. Hopefully no one would see me, no one would pay any attention As I grabbed the treat and the knife And began to dangerously peel. I knew I was doing it wrong My hands shaking while my cheeks began to flush Embarrassed by my ignorant inadequacy. Are you left-handed? she asked from my left. Humiliation filled the corners of my eyes, wet and distraught. No, I mumbled. My cheeks reflecting Mose's Red Sea. I was beginning to drown. Your thumb needs to move, You make me nervous, and she sounded nervous indeed. Put it down here. Help yourself control it. Guide it. Everyone was staring now, the whole table awed My ignorance showing, like a medallion at my chest My shameful Apple as pathetic proof. You're doing it wrong. Non così. Basta, faccio io. Let me do it. You're about to graduate, and you can't peel an apple. I began choking, drowning in tears of Humiliation. No, let her do it the small Voice on my left said. She is finding her way. Let me watch her. I finished peeling the Apple Suffocating my tears as I ate. You remind me of Daisy, she said soon after From The Great Gatsby. I choked and laughed, more ashamed than ever. I'm not sure that is a compliment. I could barely muster a mumble. She couldn't do anything by herself. She looked at me, gentle and forgiving. I think it is, she replied Wistful and Wise. Daisy was vital to the story, you know. And I believe that given the chance, she could have done anything that she wanted On her own.
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42
Exploring the outlines of submission I find dominance. Will holding instinct underwater just to prove it can. Topping from the bottom: use me the way I want to be used or I will ***** holes in your engorged ego by being bored. My one control: showing up to submit. Your one duty: Taking what I offer. Keep taking it possess me wrap me around yourself tight like the skin of a drum beating me banging me trapped in that rhythm I am finally free. Don’t you dare stop ******* me or if you must at least have the decency to tell me what to do next.
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Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 6:05 PM UTC
Slavery Is Freedom
there are so many of you that i would love to sit down with; maybe over a milkshake and a plate of fries; and just talk. i want to ask you about the boy that hurt you, about the anger you feel deep inside over a father who said he’d come back... and then didn’t. i want to run with you through pages of words and say “oh that’s right, what a lovely metaphor.” i want to see all your smiling faces and thank each and every one of you for showing me kindness, for saving my life. i want to collaborate on novels of poetry and laugh with you through the tears of our pasts. so until we sip those milkshakes and eat those fries... thank you, to some of the most beautiful people i have never met.
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Mar 26, 2018
Mar 26, 2018 at 7:30 PM UTC
Hello Poetry
This is one of those cheesy things One of those things about love that people can’t stand It starts with “I miss you” and ends with “I love you” In the middle comes “I always knew you were the one” Later on comes “We’ll be together forever” And it ends with “I love you” But, now we are at the start I miss you I miss you terribly so There are times I cannot bear it There are times I think it’d be easier if I were to end it Then I think of the next I always knew you were the one From day one, it was only you Through the ups and the downs, lord knows we’ve had them It has always been you, faithful and true We’ve been going strong and showing no signs of slowing We’ll be together forever That’s it, that’s the next part Pieces start to come together Our life begins to form That’s when the ending ties it all in I love you, my darling I always have and I always will From start to finish and life to death Forever, my darling I love you
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Nov 19, 2011
Nov 19, 2011 at 10:28 PM UTC
Cheesy Thing
. 1 death dirges Frogs in distance sing  .  .  . Foxes, herons, join in too,   .  .  .  A round of croaking. 2 love gifts Her gift of flowers  .  .  . Came at night without garden,   .  .  .  Were picked in bedroom. 3 twins demure Full moon and she  .  .  . Beauties without crescent smile,   .  .  .  Naked in starlight. 4 light music Before even sun  .  .  . Gleam opens to paint each day,   .  .  .  Beauty in birdsong. 5 iridescent After sun showers  .  .  . Sparkle of rainbow colours,   .  .  .  Busy hummingbirds 6 chilling Hollow sound through trees, Naked and bare branches sway,   .  .  .  Old winter creeping. 7 flirting She wanted a child  .  .  . Rushed from one suitor to next,   .  .  .  Clock set to maybe. 8 super villain Truth once singular  .  .  . Mucked all up with politics,   .  .  .  In cowl of falsehoods. 9 casualties Blood spills in gardens  .  .  . Naïve worms torn from loose grounds, . . . Red robins, green lawns. 10 stigmata Each spring miracle  .  .  . Trees blessed by caterpillars gifts,   .  .  .  Holey hands of leaves. 11 consecrations Ripples lead to bows  .  .  . After fish breaks the water,   .  .  .  A kingfisher dives. 12 constancy Steadfast as always  .  .  . Wildflower in sun and rain,   .  .  .  Showing true colours. 13 roommates Chaste lovers wonder  .  .  . How bodies weather the cold,   .  .  .  Never knowing touch. 14 swept away Suddenly we kissed  .  .  . At beach as tides rolling in,   .  .  .  Drowning by ocean. 15 seductress Her red hair so long  .  .  . Brushing my face, hiding eyes,   .  .  .  A kind entrapment. .
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Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 10:20 PM UTC
15 Haiku | Senryū
. 1 death dirges Frogs in distance sing  .  .  . Foxes, herons, join in too,   .  .  .  A round of croaking. 2 love gifts Her gift of flowers  .  .  . Came at night without garden,   .  .  .  Were picked in bedroom. 3 twins demure Full moon and she  .  .  . Beauties without crescent smile,   .  .  .  Naked in starlight. 4 light music Before even sun  .  .  . Gleam opens to paint each day,   .  .  .  Beauty in birdsong. 5 iridescent After sun showers  .  .  . Sparkle of rainbow colours,   .  .  .  Busy hummingbirds 6 chilling Hollow sound through trees, Naked and bare branches sway,   .  .  .  Old winter creeping. 7 flirting She wanted a child  .  .  . Rushed from one suitor to next,   .  .  .  Clock set to maybe. 8 super villain Truth once singular  .  .  . Mucked all up with politics,   .  .  .  In cowl of falsehoods. 9 casualties Blood spills in gardens  .  .  . Naïve worms torn from loose grounds, . . . Red robins, green lawns. 10 stigmata Each spring miracle  .  .  . Trees blessed by caterpillars gifts,   .  .  .  Holey hands of leaves. 11 consecrations Ripples lead to bows  .  .  . After fish breaks the water,   .  .  .  A kingfisher dives. 12 constancy Steadfast as always  .  .  . Wildflower in sun and rain,   .  .  .  Showing true colours. 13 roommates Chaste lovers wonder  .  .  . How bodies weather the cold,   .  .  .  Never knowing touch. 14 swept away Suddenly we kissed  .  .  . At beach as tides rolling in,   .  .  .  Drowning by ocean. 15 seductress Her red hair so long  .  .  . Brushing my face, hiding eyes,   .  .  .  A kind entrapment. .
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