"soothingly" poems
When you are sick
Helpless
Stuck on bed rest
That blue is what keeps you alive
That liquid blue
The blue that eases all the pain
The blue that goes down so soothingly
Liquid blue
Blue like the ocean you'll never swim in
Blue like the sky you'll never touch
Blue like the tears that roll
If you don't have it
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 8:41 PM UTC
In lonely moments
I stroll the waning memories
when love pure smiled blissfully
deep within a fawning heart
a wistful melody arises untainted
like a steaming enslaved passion
breathlessly released
unrestrained,..
evident
as the pressed and dried flowers
cuddled between life's ardent petaled pages,
bookmarks of the heart
traces of the wild bouquets
that often soothingly caress’d
the energizing tingles
inflaming a tantalizing touch
the yearning empty voids
feverishly undressed,
traced in the hidden sands
of unexplored oceans..
though time and distance
make the bereft heart grow helplessly fonder,
memories fade softly as the summer breeze befalls,
as gentle feather’d touch
the evanescent sunset afterglow
where the earth and sky align
the dimming of the day
loving can heal
the poet’s bleeding words,
loving can mend your soul ―
the perennial dawning of an
unpromised new day
will someday come again
bequeathed like the bluebird’s mirthful song
to bring forth nascent wild flowers’ blossoming petals
flourishing in the meadow of my heart
Someone you used to know
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 7:48 PM UTC
In apparent silence,
Raindrops play their music.
I look at the strings of stretched water
Before they touch the soft, damp ground.
Fog has covered the distant hills.
The Spirit of those Mountains
Existed only in the past chants
Of those who, without bodies,
Return to their abandoned homes
As a breath on a wet glass.
I don't know their language,
But I hear their words:
The fog,
The rain,
The hills
And memories
Hidden in the soothingly cold rocks
And streams of clear water.
I cut out a piece of earth and sky
I've always been sad to leave that place.
I stay a few moments longer,
Before walking ahead
I drink the peace,
I eat the rustle of the wind,
Absorbing the steady pattern of raindrops.
I long to be invisible
A drawing of the unearthly landscape
And come back here endlessly
After long absences.
In the green valley,
Immersed in the rain
Where I leave and find myself
Again,
Again,
Again…
Sep 8, 2025
Sep 8, 2025 at 12:42 PM UTC
the petrichor
penetrating the heart's core
from the earth crust
When quenched, it's thirst
blended in the gust
of the summer breeze
yes! it's summer rain!
the petrichor,
wish I could devour
intangible
invisible
inaccessible
yet i savour!
the petrichor,
released by the nature joyfully
when the rain heals
the burns, soothingly!
the petrichor,
intoxicating
exhilarating
reviving
embracing me, like you???
Apr 14, 2019
Apr 14, 2019 at 4:59 AM UTC
IS THERE A y.o.u!
Confidently waiting
Confidently hiding. comfortably chilling..
waiting On Nothing but Y.U.O to come along..
I'm relaxing in a tub filled with caressing roses.
Pampering..
Me soothingly preparing me!..
Enjoying me and this time getting to enjoy this new me and
who I've come to be.
Working with dedication, personally I'm sure your relating.
As your working On you too. And laboring hard day after day.
I'm not wasting this time till we are found.
Love waiting to unfold.
Its wanting to be released and be yours to keep and hold..
I'm here and sometimes I do feel that lonely.
Knowing your not holding..Me!
Yet I am enjoying this new Me!
I'm confidently enjoying.
I have my family and my friends and them I'm enjoying.
But can't wait to laugh and smile and be loved by Y.O.U.
Wondering thinking of what would it be like to touch on Y.O.U.
You..You.. You.. Feel the touch of you..
In my heart sometimes I have conversation with Y.O.U.
Thinking what If I never be found by you.
Then I'll be content to live imaginatively with you.
My perfected Y.O.U. Soul mate in you..Perfect for me kinda you.
Blessed to be tapping my fingers musically because of you.
Desiring.. confidently praying.. silently hoping there is this Y.O.U!
By SelinaSharday S.A.M. TM 2018
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 9:51 AM UTC
‘A festive song for thy ears’,
Sang the jovial busker;
Brimming with gratitude,
With pennies of silver
Or the coppers from well-worked hands,
The heavy gold of the rich;
Once weighed down pockets
Generously giving.
‘A festive song for thy hearts’,
Sang the jovial busker;
Playing with precision,
With clarity and care
Or the subtlety of pristine art,
The blending sound of the voice
Soothingly warming.
Feb 5, 2022
Feb 5, 2022 at 12:50 PM UTC
you giggle and tell me she likes me
as if I hadn't known all along
I knew from the moment she saw me
when her arms comforted me
and she hushed my crying soothingly
I know I can talk to her about literature
debate politics and human rights
laugh about science fiction or philosophy
and I remember her pink boy shorts
the ones that didn't cover anything
I can still smell the warm vanilla
that gathers on the edges of her neck
how soft her skin was under my fingers
but still, I doubt my ability to
make anyone happy (including myself)
so it's better for me to seem unattainable
because this way, I can't disappoint
her, or myself (or anyone else)
I pull away from the people who like me
it's just easier this way, I often think
I will become art work, beautiful
but best admired from 40 paces away
Sep 25, 2018
Sep 25, 2018 at 11:38 AM UTC
In the solace of lavender-flickering
Fairy lights that guide
My syllables along,
Silence has never felt so
Concrete.
Silence, on questions I have asked my
Conscious for repetition, and
To hunt for answers
To unwritten dialogue,
And as I contemplate this concept,
The beauty of ringing church bells
Bleeds and creeps
Through my window,
Slicing through the distorted
Avenues and Sulcis of silence
In my mind,
To remind me
Of where I am.
Lying in the back of my car,
Keys in the transmission,
Waiting,
Hoping,
For a new path to explore
In this eclectic figure 8 of
Communication and relationship. I never
Try to make sense of it all,
Until
A faint whisper from a Princess unshackles
My liberating-attempting mind,
A faint whisper, harmonizing with the
Church bells,
Soothingly-caresses my ears,
A faint whisper,
Carrying,
The words.
I’ve.
longed.
To.
hear.
“Come with me this way.”
Hallucination of grace.
An overflowing melting ***
Of desire.
Stillness. Gracious like
A still river. Cercadas sing,
Rocks in awe don’t move.
Until the moment of that faint whisper,
I’ll remain in the spacious jar of silence,
Waiting,
For the Princess’ voices,
While the solace of lavender-flickering
Fairy lights
Guide my syllables along.
Aug 24, 2023
Aug 24, 2023 at 12:14 AM UTC
She quintessentially embodied the phrase
‘Paragon of beauty’
Perfectly chiselled face
Symmetrical features and a smile that could
Smoulder one’s heart in a millisecond
She had an aura of nonchalance around her
And an umbrella delicately balanced over her head
Despite it being scorching hot
She walked as if in fear of hurting
The very ground she trod on
Attracting surreptitious glances from passers-by.
I stood rooted to the exact spot I had stood ages before
In utter awe and wonderment at the breath taking sight I beheld
Then out of the blue she appeared to be on the verge of kissing the ground
I instantaneously lurched forward to her rescue
She, landing appropriately in mine outstretched arms
The look on her face * priceless*
Discomfiture and fear apparently evident on her face
Soothingly I assured her all was indeed well
Whilst revelling in the idea that I had come to the rescue
Of the exceedingly beautiful lady.
May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 3:42 AM UTC
~
*Optimize
Arborize
Centralize
Personalize
Give recognition its own library
Its own USB port
An evening of multiple connections
Hardwired and soothingly modem
Transmits my thoughts into you
I know your voice
I know your body
And how they work together
To leave a clear network to my heart*
~
May 18, 2023
May 18, 2023 at 5:26 PM UTC
My roommates are all up and about. It’s finals week and everyone is hustling about. Lisa came in from an early exam, it was snowing lightly, she looked right at home.
“How’d it go?” I quizzed.
“E-Z,” she replied, shedding her long navy coat and mango cashmere beanie. After dumping it all on her bed she joined us in the common room. “Blue State (coffee) is closing,” She announced.
Leong gasped, “What?”
“Three of the four Blue State locations are closing,” Lisa confirmed, “not Orange Street.”
“Why?” Leong moaned.
“What are you why? Lisa queried.
“They’re so popular!” Leong exclaimed, “There’s always SO many people in there.”
“That’s real,” I chimed in, “those places are packed and noisy.”
“They got bought out,” Lisa attested.
“By whom?” Leong wondered.
“By another coffee company.. maybe,” Lisa guessed soothingly.
“Oh, I hope so.” Leong stated, sounding depressed.
“You know what? Lisa added, “rumors were thick that Book Trader would close too.”
“No!” Leong bemoaned.
“I’m happy to announce that they’re not.” Lisa assured, “That’s something to celebrate.”
“I love studying at Book Trader.” I professed.
“And their bagels..” Leong mentioned dreamily.
“Oh, yeah,” Lisa agreed, “so good, so cheap.”
“Change is ineluctable,” Anna sighed.
“WHAT?” Leong replied, looking confused.
“Inevitable,” Lisa told her, “change is inevitable.”
“Then just say that.” Leong grumbled at Anna, who shrugged.
“I need to go support my favorite coffee shop soon,” I declared.
“Which is?” Leong inquired.
“Coffee with a K,” Lisa and I blurted out, both at once. “It has an intimate, date spot vibe,” I explained, “and the chairs that are perfect for putting an arm around someone.”
“The Benjamin and Acorn (two on campus coffee shops) are going to be so crowded.” Sunny stated, joining the conversation as she started putting on her shoes to go out.
“True THAT.” I agreed.
“Common Grounds Cafe,” Sophie revealed, coming from her room, drying her hair with a towel, “bought out Blue State,” she confirmed. “it was in the Yale News.”
“OK,” I pronounced, satisfied. “Perfect.” Lisa declared. “Thank God.” Leong agreed.
“Coffee’s important.” Sunny proclaimed, picking up her coffee cup and book bag. “See ya!” she waved to the room absently, with her coffee cup, as she opened the door and stepped out.
Dec 20, 2022
Dec 20, 2022 at 1:13 PM UTC
the desperado cowboy-poet awakes
anxious, needing-ending relief,
the craving greater than great,
he begs-raggedly, with Raggedy handily Andy words,
to all and anyone in the aroused surrounded vicinity,
give please give, of something to write
the bay, soothingly plays the would-be author,
"place me, look my way,
have I not droplets endless
from which you've drunk exquisitely,
so many more to fair share"
the birds twit and flit,
raucous caucus demanding
to be seated
by the tablet's keypad
to gain entry
to one more congressional natural tribute
the sky and sun organize a
joint session, extraordinary mission;
"we are the first of your day,
thus primarily,
we win the primary,
deserving in your recording of our
nomination as the first day's
sound and light show victorious"
sorry folks,
got a better tale to tell,
natural in its way,
titillating, and quite suitable
for reputating Au Naturel humanity
and it's a quirky, say hey tale,
morning coffee fresh,
a first word report from an
untelivised convention
of a different kind of congressing
awoke to find the:
*chauffeur in bed with the cook,
the Poppy, beside the sleeping Nana,
the poet, eyeing the lying next to him, tango dancer,
the classicist eyeing the sleeping moderne,
ditty ditsy Ogden Nash astride a Shakesperian sonnet,
the thinning gray line defending his bedded half,
from an invading horde of unionizing blonde tresses,
the republican with the democrat,
the conservative with the liberal,
heated discussions, non-neutralizing negotiations
conducting and watched by
peeping tom skies, clouds, birds and waters
pretending to fly flow past*
wow
now that,
is quite interesting
deserving worthy of a
disrobing disputatious disreputation,
very newsworthy and why not,
a poem all its own?
the bay waved goodbye,
the birds disbanded in silence,
quietly disenfranchised.
the sun and the sky hung around
pretending to be UN neutrality observers
wearing cute blue and white helmets
looking every where but not,
at the line of demarcation
the beggar, by his new impoverishment, enriched,
another love poem writ,
niched and pitched
one more itch,
so very well scratched
Aug 6, 2016
Aug 6, 2016 at 8:23 AM UTC
as I run along freely
in the meadows of sorrow
grown with sweet misery
as the moonlight
surpasses the sun
and i wait for the return
of the morning
i sit by the lake
of forgotten wishes
while the dragonflies
shine brightly along
with the moonlight
as the lily pads
glide along across
the lake
as I catch the breaths I take
while the sounds of quiet
calm my mind soothingly
i recall the scenes
of my dreams
haunted fantasies
of you reappear
and then i vanish
and eventually
disappear
May 29, 2018
May 29, 2018 at 12:17 PM UTC
It gets better
he said soothingly
And he wasn't the first to say it
nor-I think-will he be the last
but it was the first time
I believed it if only for a moment
Take your time, he assured me
And in a world of
rush rush rush
Those words alone made sense to me
and as we stood and smiled I felt hope flicker to life
at least for a moment
Jan 15, 2012
Jan 15, 2012 at 4:08 PM UTC
The first bird (bard?) of the morn
I peeped into the salon.
Are you ready mate? I queried.
His eyes were ashes of night
and I doubted his mood.
I should be, he said
your hair is my livelihood.
Make it short I said
top bottom and the sides
and his scissors was Beethoven
soothingly rising and falling
making the sweetest sound
celebrating martyrdom of my hairs
resignedly falling on the ground.
But too soon it was over
and he held the mirror.
Wouldn't a little shorter be fine?
Nope, he smiled
considering your hairline
further recession would be a disaster.
I paid him buying his logic
and like a symphony
skimmed the air merrily.
Aug 25, 2017
Aug 25, 2017 at 11:42 AM UTC
*Are you just going to stand there and
Watch me peel this garlic*, she asks.
I shrug with a slight smile.
Beer to my lips, and I catch her moving
The way a dancer does when she doesn't
Dance.
What is art?
This.
The juggling of seconds that contain
Something more than all of those
Without her.
We could be on a midsummer
Balcony in Venice, or
In a barley field in Provence, mid-
Kiss and laughing so soothingly the
Sun doesn't even feel like it takes.
Red skinned by sun-down, sipping
Local wine and asking ourselves
How the Hell life became so
Liveable. But she's in my kitchen, not
Dancing across the worn down linoleum
With a freshly peeled piece of garlic in
Her hands, and I just found the key to
The treasure chest that contains
All the reasons I have to keep
Breathing instead of not
To.
Apr 29, 2017
Apr 29, 2017 at 3:38 PM UTC
One day I'll wake up and see,
See men dropping no more bombs,
To drag myriads of innocents
Indignantly yowl beneath tombs.
One day I'll wake up and see,
See a bunch of desperate culprits
Before their trembling knees,
Seeking redemption by pulpits.
One day I'll wake up and see,
Just as a rose wafts her scents on air,
Soothingly so shall harmony and peace
Ameliorate our world once so fair.
One day I'll wake up and see,
See all men working hand in hand
With a sole aim of invading not,
But to enrich each others land.
One day I'll wake up and see,
See the mighty air of verisimilitude
Dawn upon all men and women,
There's need to care for the destitute.
One day I'll wake up and see,
See it vividly that all women and men,
Whether yellow skinned, red or white,
Accuse not the Raven for a dark omen.
One day I'll wake up and see,
See people of all sorts of creed,
To oblivion obliterate their theories,
Admit to one great soul we're all linked.
One day I'll wake up and see,
See it dawn unto men without doubt,
Walking down the isle to the same ***
In sullen graves they'll never get out.
One day I'll wake up and see,
See men quell their pride and vanity
Right into the most peculiar abyss,
Regain sanity to draw back to humanity
One day you'll wake up and see,
See with me all these wonders evolve,
And we'll stand in a stupendous awed silence,
Seeing such crimes against humanity dissolve.
©Kikodinho Alexandros
Jumeira, Dubai
20th January 2017
Jan 20, 2017
Jan 20, 2017 at 1:55 PM UTC
(Song title from Sarah Vaughan’s catalogue,
by Walter Gross and Jack Lawrence)
Tenderly and soothingly,
I lay my head to rest,
Tenderly and soothingly,
I wish you all my best,
Tenderly and soothingly,
I put my pen away,
Tenderly and soothingly,
I kneel on down to pray,
Tenderly and soothingly,
I listen to the songs,
Tenderly and soothingly,
I know where I belong,
Tenderly and soothingly,
I look up to the sky,
Tenderly and soothingly,
I close my eyes and fly,
Tenderly and soothingly,
I dream so tenderly,
Tenderly and soothingly,
I invent history,
Tenderly and soothingly,
I sing my lullaby,
Tenderly and soothingly,
I bid you all goodbye.
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 11:48 AM UTC
I have heard in far of places, where evil men do dwell
That in this place, there is no light in shadows spell
They are filled with hate and ordained, to walk the path alone
Their tears are dry, they cannot cry and hearts are made of stone
The heart of a man is stonier than where love refuses to grow
Where time is a word of fate, exchanging tears for blood to flow
Carnage in destructions belly, monsters of burden take to air
With gnashing teeth and jagged claws, you cry out in despair
To be trapped within a web of lies, hope that depletes your soul
They grin with fangs of blood and gore and discern no self control
Your children’s smiles feed the gluttony, of love’s casual distain
Wicked unimagined pain; brief satisfaction is what they gain
So out to hunt again, their belly’s worn from gravel and slither
They drain the world of faith, while the sun commences to wither
Angels grounded devoid of flight; heats of hell seared their wings
The birds of night taken flight, from darkness abyss as banshee sings
People are blinded by phantoms smoke, cursed as walking dead
They walk with sin right next to them, on streets all paved in red
Bones of victims piled in heaps; while hunting vultures circle round
Ghosts of martyred blameless souls concealed within the ground
The earth struggles to purge itself of human infestation
Quakes, storms and inferno’s flames since dawn of mans creation
The devil strides, with jokers grin and gloats sincere admiration
Knowing the ****** hearts in evil men is beyond all restoration
The world is sick, no cure in sight we breed like pox and boils
Contamination of humanity rinks the fleshy earth rots and spoils
The ocean leaps and bounds trying to soothingly lick the sores
This far off place where evil men dwell finally washed up on our shores
Jan 19, 2011
Jan 19, 2011 at 12:32 PM UTC
Imperfect world, purposeless person.
I retired to pursue perfection
learn jazz tunes, woody and herbaceous plants,
read every inch of English literature,
Scientific American and Foreign Affairs,
have an affair with an American.
Oh, and by the way, before you ask, I'm from Mars.
Orbiting your planet, admiring the girls.
Paraphrasing prayers by George Herbert to share
with Jesus believers on talk radio shows
where we try to bring your lives into expressible states
before it’s too late and climate change inundates you.
Reversed thunder, savior-side-piercing spear,
one day you’re feeling fine, the next not.
We’re pretty matter of fact, clear about
the fact of death. Once you’re gone most of us forget
your face and previous accomplishments. The place
you lived is repopulated with the next generation (of aliens)
and that ought to be a comfort, a sort of restful
certainty all is well, nothing special need be done.
Bluebirds are back, crows are mating on the sky
and chasing hawks away from their nests. Juncos
and sparrows glean together. I hear pileated woodpeckers
jackhammering and barred owls hooting soothingly.
Herons smoothing feathers and spearing fish.
Everything is as one would wish.
Numberless are the world's wonders
but none more wonderful than aliens.
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 7:06 AM UTC
I can't see.
There is nothing to see
behind the blackness of my eyes.
I can hear...
hear the sound of the faraway sea...
the twitter of a bird
somewhere overhead
and a voice...
rumbling gently, soothingly beside me.
I can touch...
your hands, rough with callouses,
scarred with work;
the fabric of your cotton shirt
as it loosely hangs on your strong frame.
I can smell...
the rugged nearness of you,
the sweetness of the trees
and the coolness of the air.
I can taste...
the snowmelt on my tongue,
the remnants of honey from your lips.
Your hands touch my tired eyes...
and of a sudden
I can see.
Jul 4, 2010
Jul 4, 2010 at 10:39 AM UTC
Soft and silky, soothingly smooth
Are words that describe her skin
I can't help but dream about her
Every now and then
Gentle, kind and selflessly caring
Are words that expose her soul
I know I made a big mistake
So many years ago...
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 7:43 AM UTC
Days at home and I have started hearing things,
My furniture and home appliances seem to talk to me.
My bed says "Come and lie down,
Enjoy tea in me,"
My pillows say,"Hug us,relax everything is going to be fine.
As I entered the kitchen my toaster jumped up to warn me of my wife's mood,
Too late, we started arguing and the vacuum told me to **** it up,
To make matters worse the washing machine put a different spin on everything.
The T.V and my mobile threatened to die if I did not give them rest,
Furious I banged the front door,
The door **** advised me to get a grip,
But the door screamed I was unhinged,
At that my fan soothingly said it would soon blow over,
At last the curtains ordered me to pull myself together.
4/4/2020
Apr 4, 2020
Apr 4, 2020 at 10:19 AM UTC
We don’t need swaying palm trees and cicadas,
Not to feel as if we have stepped into paradise,
Cradled in the still, warm shadow of devotion,
We are soothingly bathed in love’s sweet heat.
Emotion surges within, rising, an upwelling,
Breaking with the speed of a tropical storm,
We are saturated with loving, wholly drenched,
The feeling; as water offered to a parched soul.
With burning words we urge our worlds to merge,
Unexpected blending during the summer of our lives,
Forging an alloy of free-flowing emotion, so powerful,
So intense, we are captured by its undeniable allure.
We don’t ever need to speak of our love aloud: no,
Finding our affirmation in the sighs between lines,
The liquid longing whispered into stories that we build,
Mirroring our deep desires, hopes and needs fulfilled.
From heady dreams, creating our own sweet heat,
Exploring unconditional passion, trembling, complete,
On cold, starry nights, embracing, sated, warm, alive,
Our coalescing, enraptured spirits, breathlessly writhe.
Across the challenging separation of distant night,
Languishing on the cusp of sleep, edging dreams,
Images rise, silken gossamer threads of thought,
Brushing against latent desires, calling, calling.
Irresistibly drawn together, ah, sharing the dream,
Thrumming pulses racing as we gently caress,
Languorous kisses, hot, sweet and hungry, we love,
Sleep entwined in moonlight, streaming from above.
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 8:13 AM UTC
Run away to a foreign country, one with plush yellow green pastures. The grasses hiss soothingly as the breeze brushes them down this way and that. My home, a simple one room shelter built atop a broad and wise dark leafed tree who has welcomed me to its strong open arms. The skirt of my plain brown dress tickles the tops of my feet as I step down onto the soft soily earth.
There are no people here but I am not alone. The wind is here to lift the overflow of thoughts from my ever questioning mind and the water is here to soothe me and commiserate like an old companion purified from the complications of humanity. The dirt is my mother and my father, providing for me. Nurtures me with its succulent plants and cups its hands so that I might take a few small fish from them now and then.
A spotted sun perch hangs behind me as I perambulate meditatively. I see a few delicate vibrant blossoms on the side of my arborous home. They chime a brilliant tune that I will later compose onto a clay canvas. The afternoon is spent cleaning the small token and then toasting it over fire. I tend the patches of nearly wild vegetables and fruits. The most desirable ones plucked for my plate.
Guardian stars begin to dot the serenity of a dazzling dusk that demands my awe. I am aware of my tiny existence and its grand insignificance yet at the same moment I feel as though I was specially chosen by the cosmos to witness this perfect event. An intoxicating shiver grips me suddenly as a gust flits up my spine and through the back of my hair. Slowly it falls and the lulling chirps of a million violinists begin to play to one another. An admiring amphibian adrift the pond lilies relinquishes some commending croaks.
As the dark begins to settle in I climb to my aerial cottage to lie down. The rustling of my nest-bed reminds my neighbor owl of the time and she hoots appreciatively before flying off to begin her hunts. The splendid nocturnal symphony soon sends me to my dreams.
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 10:01 AM UTC