"smilingly" poems
into the strenuous briefness
Life:
handorgans and April
darkness,friends
i charge laughing.
Into the hair-thin tints
of yellow dawn,
into the women-coloured twilight
i smilingly
glide. I
into the big vermilion departure
swim,sayingly;
(Do you think?)the
i do,world
is probably made
of roses & hello:
(of solongs and,ashes)
22.4k
You come in late, wiping your lips.
What did I leave untouched on the doorstep---
White Nike,
Streaming between my walls?
Smilingly, blue lightning
Assumes, like a meathook, the burden of his parts.
The police love you, you confess everything.
Bright hair, shoe-black, old plastic,
Is my life so intriguing?
Is it for this you widen your eye-rings?
Is it for this the air motes depart?
They rae not air motes, they are corpuscles.
Open your handbag. What is that bad smell?
It is your knitting, busily
Hooking itself to itself,
It is your sticky candies.
I have your head on my wall.
Navel cords, blue-red and lucent,
Shriek from my belly like arrows, and these I ride.
O moon-glow, o sick one,
The stolen horses, the fornications
Circle a womb of marble.
Where are you going
That you **** breath like mileage?
Sulfurous adulteries grieve in a dream.
Cold glass, how you insert yourself
Between myself and myself.
I scratch like a cat.
The blood that runs is dark fruit---
An effect, a cosmetic.
You smile.
No, it is not fatal.
17.8k
Dear Friends, this poem was composed many years ago and posted on ‘Poemhunter.com’. Time here is compared to the money lender and miser Shylock in Shakespeare’s ‘Merchant Of Venice’, where Shylock insisted on cutting out a pound of flesh from the merchant Bassanio, for having failed to pay back the loan taken from Shylock! Hope you like it, - Raj
TIME THE GREAT USURER
TIME the great usurer, is a great miser too,
Always knows the cost of things to be paid
back by you!
It readily loans you the desired amount in
number of years.
Smilingly assures and allays all your doubts
and fears.
It makes the loan to appear like a free gratis,
So you hardly bother to take any notice!
But with the passage of growing years and
life depleting with time,
In paying back your interests, you got to
default sometime.
Precisely at that moment, the usurer knocks
rather loud,
And through death takes back its’ principal
amount !
Alas, Time the great Shylock knows the cost
of everything.
When will it learn to appreciate the value
we attach to things?
-Raj Nandy, New Delhi.
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 12:02 PM UTC
When in dark despair drowned
I was thinking, joy was nowhere around
A gentle breeze from the upland peaks
Came and patted on my cheeks
Softly whispering- ‘joy is here’
When the last ray of hope had been snuffed out
From the vapid plane of my arid heart,
A cluster of orchids, beautiful and gay
Smilingly nodding their heads on my way
Sweetly murmured- ‘joy is here
When I feared the earth was caving in
Under my feet with no chance to win
A butterfly with rainbow colors
Alighting on a bunch of flowers
Euphoniously hummed- ‘joy is here’
When all my yearnings got shattered
And sustenance alone was what mattered
The blazing sun from behind the hills
Wiping away all morbid chills
Affirmed beaming-‘joy is here
When I thought I was drifting afloat
Without any moorings on my boat
A crystal drop precariously balancing
On the serrated edge of a leaf dancing
Confidently chimed-‘joy is here’
When darkness settles on the scene
When life loses all tinge of green
When days seem inert and grey
Don’t be in a hurry to say
“Joy is nowhere around”
Before you jump to conclusions dismal
And write off life as abysmal
Wait to see the cycle of seasons change
From winter’s haze to spring’s lovesome range!
Aug 22, 2017
Aug 22, 2017 at 12:43 PM UTC
my son is a better version of me
i easily break
he rides storms smilingly
i crumble in a crisis
he handles stoically
my emotions play loud on face
he hides it handsomely
i'm doubtful of exploring
he ventures courageously
i speculate on life too much
he bothers not seriously
Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 1:41 PM UTC
Jenifer Garner looked every inch the mom in control as she and estranged husband Ben Affleck picked up their daughters from karate class.
The actress, 43, strode out ahead clutching her cell phone in one hand and car keys in her other as the Argo star, also 43, followed behind with Violet, nine, and Seraphina, six, and carrying a canvas shopping bag.
Garner also had her wedding ring back on, but on the middle finger of her left hand and not the ring finger.
Affleck, though, seems to have ditched his wedding ring altogether.
He hasn't been seen with it on for a couple of weeks at least, although when they first split the pair had made it known they'd still keep the gold bands on around their kids.
Rumors had started to swirl of a possible reconciliation between the two after they were seen leaving couples counseling together in Sana Monica on September 4.
But sources close to them moved quickly to quash any suggestion they might get back together, saying they were simply seeking professional help to guide them through the changes that divorce brings.
Affleck was a doting dad on Friday as he smilingly shepherded his daughters to the car as they snacked on apples.
The Good Will Hunting actor was dressed casually in an olive green t-shirt, black jeans and sneakers.
Seraphina wore a pretty light blue pinafore dress with a matching hairband and her favorite purple and pink Nike trainers.
Violet wore an all black workout ensemble with turquoise athletic shoes.
Not with them was the girls' younger brother Samuel, who's three.
The estranged couple are back in LA after Garner spent most of the summer filming Miracles From Heaven in Atlanta, Georgia, and Affleck was reprising his role as Batman for Suicide Squad in Toronoto, Canada.
With those projects in the can, it means they can focus more time on caring for their children as their divorce moves forward.
Affleck is also prepping his next project Live By Night, a Prohibition-era drama that he's written and plans to star in and direct.
The film based on the novel by Denis Lehane and set in Boston is scheduled to start filming in November.
read more:www.marieaustralia.com/sexy-formal-dresses
www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-perth
Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 10:59 PM UTC
(Give me a London girl every time…)
*- I want to push my hands into your hips and smack you back to front against the wall, bunching your **** little skirt in my fingers, unclipping those fifties plastic beauties that cling to your thighs and I want you to be a right proper girl for me, a right proper girl -*
(…I’m gonna find one, I’ve made up my mind…)
So she got her phone out and
Smiled her Madonna-Gap smile,
Fine lines floundering
Like speech marks
Either side of her mouth.
So romantic!
A girl with a face of
Punctuation!
***** pennies,
she said,
Your eyes are
*****
*******
Pennies*
She would finger the holes
In my tatterdemalion
Charity coats,
And my shop-bought medals.
She would jab her fingers
Against each point
Of the Burma Star,
Spookily,
As though it were a
Pentagram.
She’s a washboard,
Her ******* are thumb-tacks
In a cosmetic shade of
Gold,
With a crucifix stamped
Like a dagger glyph
Right between them,
like a silver sneer,
on her precious metal chest.
*- I want to take your photo -
I want you in Pippi Longstockings
And to angle you just so, my no-knickered **** with her goosebumps on show -*
I’ll never forgot when she told me
She owned a leopard-skin
Pill-box hat ,
And I said
* “You’d have to be dead
Not to fancy that…”*
I’m not sure how aware she is though,
Of how many people
Tongue- to- the -floor want her.
She plays bored on purpose!
I’ve watched beautiful boys
Go to pieces
Trying to entertain her
With a curly straw.
She’s a real cheekbone feline,
And around her pupils
Rages a ring of jagged orange,
Like a jester’s ruff.
And I think of all this,
Whilst she stands there,
Moving from toe to toe
In her zig-zag heels,
And wooden bracelets,
And her little lycra
Landmine that
Shop assistants sell
To girls like her.
And then she clocks me.
and she doesn’t say a thing -
she just swims smilingly over
Through a parted gaggle,
Letting me grab her
Like I mean it,
Spanning her waist with my
Hands like
A corset -
And the fairylights
Are just smudges
Across her sequins,
And her mottled shoulders are
Ten shades
Of mostly white.
Sep 2, 2013
Sep 2, 2013 at 9:35 AM UTC
Love said, “Wake still and think of me,”
Sleep, “Close your eyes till break of day,”
But Dreams came by and smilingly
Gave both to Love and Sleep their way.
1.6k
My last Thursday class is over - my class-week is over.
Looking back at the science building we’d just left,
the hallway looked dark, like the throat of an animal,
the people snaked out like a tongue, the archway
seemed like a mouth - I shivered and looked away.
Lisa laughed, and my senses returned to reality.
The clouds on high, hung like fresh linens on a line
being dried by the sun in its Egyptian-blue heaven.
The air smelled rich, clean and ionized and ever
the inventive stylist, it periodically rearranged my hair.
Leaves rustled, sounding like a buzz of conversation,
as they rushed from place to place, as if late to class.
The breeze was working hard, in jerky flourishes,
like the strokes of an indecisive artist.
The afternoon seemed as bright and brash as a shout
as if it wanted, no demanded, our emotional attention
and I gave it, smilingly, ready for the weekend.
Nov 9, 2023
Nov 9, 2023 at 3:41 PM UTC
lovely, banal, **********
she smilingly slides the
respectably slip transparent
around the resistant
pleasurable hips
thighs riotous pulsing
cleaved calves clever
neatly witha3inchheel
sli n g s
it into the hamper
clicks her sway into
the bathroom,
plum-ripe lips juicy) saying
(i'll be out in a jif, hon
Mar 2, 2011
Mar 2, 2011 at 5:35 PM UTC
A POOR GIRL
Matloob Bokhari
In a fortified city –land of social divide,
Where lordly rulers, sadly greedy reside.
I saw a girl, searching a scrap of food.
Hunger poured out from her innocent face.
Pain and poverty had silenced her smile.
On my question, stammering, she replied;
“In poverty, I am walking on thorns of life;
Parent without shelter, pass nights in a tent
And days of sorrow in the shadow of tree.”
Listening this, my eyes wept with tears.
Kissing her ***** and tired hands, I said:
“Love you, my poor girl; your story is so sad.”
Looking at me, my Murshud smilingly said,
“O created for Eternal Bliss, Give and will be given,
True joy in life is to share a slice of bread
Live a simple life; so others may simply live.”
COMMENTS : A POOR GIRL
Kristen Scott: Poignant, heartfelt, and an awakening against female brutality ~ well-done my friend, Kristen
Gary Leikas: Really lovely, tender and compassionate poem !! Poverty is more sad if that comes from the poor spirit. Love is pure gold !! Love is the only one that we have a real treasure . A beautiful piece.
Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 3:17 AM UTC
One early morning, when I was out in my garden,
I met a gorgeous Monarch butterfly dazzling.
I exclaimed...you are so bright and beaming,
will you help me paint my country with your wings so shining?
We have shades but they are all synthetic!!
I want your colours as they are organic and enduring.
Cyclones, floods and cataclysm have washed-out the beauty of my land..i sighed!
I shall paint your land with my elegant wings...he replied!!
Paint my land with the colours of the tricolour.
The top may be painted with bold saffron.
The pure white colour of yours may then flow through the heart of the land .
My friend, paint the final part with the soothing hue of green.
And at last, splash a colour of your choice to cover up all the dents and fungus that had cropped up in our hearts for so long.
These are our colours..my countrymen must not forget
We are one and we stand united!
The Monarch smilingly said, "I shall do what you say, but promise me to keep them the same as I start painting from today".🦋🦋🦋🦋
Bina Mukherjee
Jun 8, 2020
Jun 8, 2020 at 8:26 AM UTC
Light unloosens itself. Space slackens.
A figure of a shadow I have conjured before
anonymous eyes. Lapping up the waiflike bleakness
of their elliptical faces.
I must teach the trees to let go
of autumn, and relegate spryness to the hearth
of cold without merit, this slow, claiming mutiny
with its face-oval peering through windows multiplying
lovelessly, a crunch of a leaf, suchlike, flourishing
in peerless company. Before me, the sound of footfall
preparing to make sense, a rotunda of bell – that movement
of somebody done for, so ****** the scald welt of ******
the belch of the world like a pore clearing its squalor.
Or the toppled verdigris of gull.
Autumn’s greater extension, the abeyance, smilingly
a facsimile of crowds – its roads adorned with laburnum
singeing through the morning’s cauldron, a waft of bald terrain
inflamed, drawing with absence
a crippled drip of rain back into the world’s dim address.
Feb 7, 2016
Feb 7, 2016 at 1:28 PM UTC
when Pachelbel makes me want to fly
and I never finished packing, but did burn
all my writing for heat last night
to make it through
just me, my guitar
and youth
if truth was what we seek then
I'd lie to you in breach with
words that make you smile
and ease a need for trials
like a preacher spouting
Van Gogh in syllables
I leave you
impressions
smilingly
sunny
Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 6:33 PM UTC
It took you some time to get
Where you are; no overnight
Fall or idle thought to drop out
Or taste how the other half lived,
Although now you know,
But a collection of erroneous
Decisions or the wrong people
At a bad time, or maybe that child
You lost and husband quitting,
Was all too much for you
To soldier on in the complex
World of the here and now.
Shelter is shelter, you mumble,
Sipping the warm soup, the memory
Of the last good supper long forgotten
Or put aside in that room marked
Verboten, and the trainers, yes,
The trainers fit the feet well,
Best for ages, you smilingly mutter,
The rest are rags, but they keep me
Warm at the best of times, which
Are few, you add, sensing the chill
Of the wall against your back;
Maybe Buddha would not pass by
Unnoticing, maybe he will give
Smile or coin or kind words
Like oil for rusting joints.
You sit and stare and muse
And feel the wind whisper,
Sense the passers-by look down
At you, feel their eyes, their
Muttered utterances, their shakes
Of head, their tut-tutting, and just
Remembering now your mother’s
Soft hand brushing your childhood
Head, soothing the poverty from brow
And cheek, maybe that’s what you want
On this street, maybe it’s her that you seek.
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 11:34 AM UTC
Your eyes flash with tin-metal heat
radiating from your naked
shoulders in simmering waves;
a palpable presence, third-party
to our locked-door liaison.
I want to sear my skin
against yours, but keep
a calculated, cunning
distance, bringing myself
to the same boil, smilingly
watching your steam
whistling from every pore.
Understand
that although this is
supposed to be
"just ***
we are about
to brand each other.
Apr 16, 2011
Apr 16, 2011 at 2:38 PM UTC
*
Beloved, for me...
YOU are there, at sea -
My ocean of LOVE
I'm thirsty in this desert
For a drop of your salty sweetness
If you don't embrace me
Still I'll fly over YOU
Days after days
Years after years
Birth after birth
Our existence was mired by our mind
It delusion ed us
Intelligence has
Wounded my wings of LOVE
I'm restless to fly
I've to overcome mind
And soar high - as high as
Rainbow clouds of LOVE
I know
I need strength
To fly across YOUR blue deep ocean
Your path of sea in front of me
An ocean of LOVE-fire
Deep within YOU
I'm not worried of crossing YOU
MY beloved...
Your vastness
YOU are enormous, unending
I'm prepared to fly over you
Adore your beauty,
Those waves, your aqua-marines
Your islands
Your ups and downs
And Your abyss depths
And when I'm tired
I will simply "LET GO"
Of my flapping wings
Of my stupid 'mind'
And fall smilingly into YOUR
Ocean beds of soft waves
To be devoured by your wavering flames
The whole world is stopping me
My mind is not letting me fall
Trying to make me understand
What a fool I am
To LOVE you unconditionally
A part of me understands but
Who will explain 'living'
To my heart and soul?
My heart says -
Why has the world & people
Forgotten the path of LOVE?
While I fly above - I see
The whole world is merry
Dancing and rejoicing
Blindly in the vulgarity of
Wealth & success
And I am at peace
In YOUR LOVE
Flying high, soaring great heights
Viewing the horizon of your ocean
Where the sun sets & moon rises
I fly on that bright side of LOVE
Below there is ocean and
Below that within YOU
Is the fire of your LOVE
The flames calling me to dive in
NOW, I'm not confused
I will dip myself in your ocean
And burn my EGO in your volcanic fire
While I 'Let Go' & dive in YOU
Tired and restful
Do hug me tightly within,
Embrace me in your fire of LOVE
Let us both extinguish
Our LOVE-fire within each other
And show the world
The way to LIVE, LOVE and DIE
*
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 12:57 AM UTC
Once upon a time
Lived a princess of golden hair
Fancied by creatures of every clime
For she was but so fair
One day whilst in a wood
There came an angel of death
smilingly disguised in a hood
Fervently craving her breath
Being in a deep slumber
She couldn't see this beast
For it thus marked a number
A death spell upon her wrist
**Ding **** castle bells rang**
Slumbering she couldn't hear
Despite they were loudly bang
Soon the realm buzzed with fear
With a voice so hard and cold
Need her here! Roared the king
She's but more precious than gold
Said the queen! Thus you must bring
There were blowing of horns
By huntsmen alongside trumpets
Accompanied by crying of hounds
But still she was as deaf as a puppet
She'll never hear! Said one witch
Despite how loud you ring the bell
**You must be daft! Insolent *****
Cried the queen! you deserve in hell
She has a death spell thus haunted
whilst simpering yelled another witch
Dummy gorgon! She must be hunted
Cried the king! Thus dare not screech
Soon she was found laying on grass
With not a single bone of her broken
Though she was as pale as a glass
For her breath had been taken
©Kikodinho Alexandros
29th August 2016
Honestly, I thank a poet friend so dear to me "Stephanie Stoychevska" to have inspired such a colorful piece!
Aug 29, 2016
Aug 29, 2016 at 7:41 AM UTC
almost
full moon face
smilingly
rests on a comfy shelf cloud
waning daylight hours
blanket
the rich dip dyed purple dusk
spreading it’s favor
seamlessly into
a star strewn
night sky
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 6:07 PM UTC
O Little angel O little angel
from tranquil galaxy of rebirth
coming through milky sky ways
to land on the human earth
singing merry Christmas songs
with basket of wonderful toys
some for her innocent girls
and some for naughty boys
with divine light on her face
wearing a silken white gown
ornamented with amazing smiles
and over head a silver crown
her gestures were heavenly
adorned with diamonds and pearls
crossing cluster of dark clouds
and encountering many whirls
when lands on the human world
her appearance very cute and fair
looking very pretty and very shy
with magic stick and golden hair
message of peace and prosperity
she brings from peaceful heaven
that says to all human on earth
no more carnage - no nine-eleven
feels very sad why human fight
why dangerous nuclear weapons
the earth becomes land of hell
while god made it land of heavens
angel distributes wonderful gifts
to all human beings on the earth
preaches us all lesson of peace
and says make it living worth
merry Christmas merry Christmas
to everyone she smilingly wishes
hugs every one of her children
and blesses with many kisses
suddenly the little angel flies away
disappearing high into the blue sky
leaving many unanswered questions
when, what, where, how and why
(By Kishan Negi)
Dec 25, 2016
Dec 25, 2016 at 2:07 PM UTC
They called my skin the color of chocolate,
A dimple that they could lose a penny in,
Long hair the wind sweeping their dreams,
Sparkling eyes like doors to the woman within.
They balked at my age when I smilingly answered,
Wondering if I bathe in the fountain of youth,
How is it that I kept it so alive and kicking,
So beautiful and strong, almost altering the truth.
"Let me breathe in your essence", someone said,
"I knew I would fall for you", someone else,
"Wait till you become an actress", as I boarded a train,
But you know, I wasn't really trapping hearts myself.
Don't get me wrong, I love the adulation,
But it might all fade as I get older,
I grew up to understand something very firmly though,
Beauty lies in the eye of the beholder.
I wanted to be loving, I wanted to be kind,
The wonderful kind that would make anyone kind,
She who embraces life, and wins against odds,
With all the power and beauty of her mind.
Wild dreams keep me on my toes every day,
From chasing butterflies to building empires,
A web of fantasies, that gets denser every moment,
Living life with all that my heart desires.
Thank you for calling me the color of chocolate,
Telling me that I look fetching, and all that admiring,
I will take all of it graciously,
And also become strong, loving and inspiring.
Feb 9, 2018
Feb 9, 2018 at 12:22 AM UTC
The Teacher Was Moving Around,
Saw The Child Drawing A Sketch,
She Came Nearer To The Child,
Saw Her Laboring At A Stretch.
The Teacher Said,
“What Are You Drawing Dear Mine,”
The Child Said With A Smile,
“I Am Making The Divine.”
The Teacher Reminded The Child,
“No One Knows What God Looks Like,”
The Child Quipped Smilingly,
“Just Wait And See what God Looks Like.”
Mar 28, 2021
Mar 28, 2021 at 7:02 AM UTC
And just like magick, the merest glimpse of you will pull your memory across my mind,
I dreamt of you again last night
You walked in, and said "I'm here"
and were ready
Not sure,
but curious at least
And I tried so hard
to think of things to say
that would let you know
how much I've missed you,
and I'm so excited you're
willing to try,
and not scare you off
And you seem nervous,
but smilingly so,
and not at all poised to dart
For once believing more in the
possibilities than the certainties...
And then I wake up.
Not only have I slept in,
and it's terribly hot,
you're not there again
As I knew you wouldn't be.
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 9:37 AM UTC
I keep your picture in a frame
So in my heart shall dwell your name
Your smile is brighter than summers
Your love is dearer than flowers
But what is it you'll tell me now?
Please let me know please show me how
To be your only dear princess
And the envied future mistress
I smile to myself on your thought
Dancing about in my best frock
Want to meet you now and again
Try forgetting you but in vain
I keep glancing at the cold dew
Hoping you to bounce into view
Rob me of this grim loveless blue
And say to me your love is true
I keep gazing at the mirror
As the snow starts to drop faster
Writing poems of you in my book
I'm the duchess and you're the duke
I imagine our fairylands
With gems and treasures in our hands
With endless love and affection
That is our last destination
I think smilingly to myself
As I devour by my bookshelf
Old story of a warrior
Saving his princess from terrors
I chuckle quietly in my room
Melodies I begin to hum
That I love you and only you
But shy to admit that it's true
I supplicate throughout the day
So that you could hear what I say
And how I hope you'd always stay
Paint my days sweet, rosy, and gay
I pray that God could send you here
The one whom to my heart's so near
By whose side I'd feel no more fear
By whose love there'd be no more tear.
Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 11:45 AM UTC