"sophisticatedly" poems

Reaching out for what delivers its existence The thirsty tree extends its limbs further to the sun An encounter craved, but still valuing its bestowment Forever longing anxiously for that connection The summer winds carrying this hopeful firefly Emitting the lonely light that calls out for another Releasing these signals in hopes of discovering you Again a flicker and finally the mate is matched Sprinting to the sea, the relentless river runs Passionately carving its way through the slighted landscape Obviously enraptured by its desirous charge Awaiting the second its frenzied rush reaches home Like the sun now churning our eager energy Overthrowing senses with this rampantly raging need Overwhelming magnetism lures us toward temptation Inescapably mesmerized by this sensation Profound in nature, driven by this timeless dance Sophisticatedly conjoining into fulfillment A base for these unbridled electrical impulses The quintessence of our fusion now realized We are the union of two wandering forces Ignition progresses affectionate meditations Quietly absorbing the synthesizing of segments Once unrelated, now entangled eternally

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Nov 2, 2012

Nov 2, 2012 at 2:17 PM UTC

dahlia

The Natural Progression

Reaching out for what delivers its existence The thirsty tree extends its limbs further to the sun An encounter craved, but still valuing its bestowment Forever longing anxiously for that connection The summer winds carrying this hopeful firefly Emitting the lonely light that calls out for another Releasing these signals in hopes of discovering you Again a flicker and finally the mate is matched Sprinting to the sea, the relentless river runs Passionately carving its way through the slighted landscape Obviously enraptured by its desirous charge Awaiting the second its frenzied rush reaches home Like the sun now churning our eager energy Overthrowing senses with this rampantly raging need Overwhelming magnetism lures us toward temptation Inescapably mesmerized by this sensation Profound in nature, driven by this timeless dance Sophisticatedly conjoining into fulfillment A base for these unbridled electrical impulses The quintessence of our fusion now realized We are the union of two wandering forces Ignition progresses affectionate meditations Quietly absorbing the synthesizing of segments Once unrelated, now entangled eternally

24

I'm 'sophisticatedly' sticking a pen in my mouth, pretending to smoke a cigarette. I don't have the courage to hurt myself, but I do. In 'subtle and implied' ways, he says. I make watery coffee and convince myself, my happiness lies in there, floating. And I pretend I'm in a Parisian cafe. But these are pipe-dream dregs, nothing else. I guess they can't substitute the vividness of being, living. Of sharp technicolour experience that can be smelt. Dregs, indeed. Today, I borrowed Birthday Letters by Ted Hughes from the library. I'm wondering if salvias were his favourite flower. His favourite. I can't figure it out. For his words are only stricken, messy with the rawness of too-technicolour experience. Beautiful. But sharp enough to pierce and poison, like Paris. My Paris, your Paris, our little Paris. So startlingly, breathlessly red. I suddenly know why I have written this. The colour of salvias, of Paris, of me and you, is my soul's favourite. His favourite. And salvias, their fragrance, it douses the fire that's threatening to suffocate, swallow my life whole, incomplete. Red is my favourite colour. And it's yours. But I really don't think I want it to be.

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May 23, 2015

May 23, 2015 at 6:13 AM UTC

vamika

Salvias

I'm 'sophisticatedly' sticking a pen in my mouth, pretending to smoke a cigarette. I don't have the courage to hurt myself, but I do. In 'subtle and implied' ways, he says. I make watery coffee and convince myself, my happiness lies in there, floating. And I pretend I'm in a Parisian cafe. But these are pipe-dream dregs, nothing else. I guess they can't substitute the vividness of being, living. Of sharp technicolour experience that can be smelt. Dregs, indeed. Today, I borrowed Birthday Letters by Ted Hughes from the library. I'm wondering if salvias were his favourite flower. His favourite. I can't figure it out. For his words are only stricken, messy with the rawness of too-technicolour experience. Beautiful. But sharp enough to pierce and poison, like Paris. My Paris, your Paris, our little Paris. So startlingly, breathlessly red. I suddenly know why I have written this. The colour of salvias, of Paris, of me and you, is my soul's favourite. His favourite. And salvias, their fragrance, it douses the fire that's threatening to suffocate, swallow my life whole, incomplete. Red is my favourite colour. And it's yours. But I really don't think I want it to be.

54

Once upon a time, I was all alone in my jar Away from the people, trying hard to hide I didn't want the bubble I lived in for so long to collapse And finding myself beside someone...stop that! Years came through and still lonely I was But that mere day was part of a plan.. Sophisticatedly, you altered all of my senses Broke everything between me and life. At first I was scared and didn't know how to act But suddenly, You're dripping all over my mind It's unexplainable how calm your eyes attain me to be As if you were the perfect companion for me You cheer me up every time that I feel blue Reminding me that my favorite color is you You always break the silence with laughter Balancing my temper with your jokes and that smile. Still, being in love is not easy Though I am dying for you to know Inside I keep this secret, safe and sound And if you ever get to find out I promise I will be there, forever Beside you

0

May 6, 2014

May 6, 2014 at 8:50 PM UTC

AngelaPaulinaLo

Beside you

Once upon a time, I was all alone in my jar Away from the people, trying hard to hide I didn't want the bubble I lived in for so long to collapse And finding myself beside someone...stop that! Years came through and still lonely I was But that mere day was part of a plan.. Sophisticatedly, you altered all of my senses Broke everything between me and life. At first I was scared and didn't know how to act But suddenly, You're dripping all over my mind It's unexplainable how calm your eyes attain me to be As if you were the perfect companion for me You cheer me up every time that I feel blue Reminding me that my favorite color is you You always break the silence with laughter Balancing my temper with your jokes and that smile. Still, being in love is not easy Though I am dying for you to know Inside I keep this secret, safe and sound And if you ever get to find out I promise I will be there, forever Beside you

22

I live in the first century of the clone wars most morning we’d wake up swiping up. the new papers don’t arrive no more because the news pours out of various device interrupting morning thoughts, selling us products to own more. we think sophisticatedly but stay closed off. happy to be clones, to be sold love. living vicariously through actors, models or influencers who show more. we think they are intelligent, they brave enough assuming they know more. consider the singular ways we live consumed by our individualism, our greed. consider the trees and the many people who puff this **** to cope on. each year, iPhones get expensive while screen light darkens the truth. I rarely write with a pen if i don't have autocorrect but I am a graduate, a grown up. I am reconciling with this spell from upon which i proceed but this war still goes on. imagine we find each other, then construct mutual peace instead of flashing lightsabers because we are so tough. imagine we say our piece while pinning respect on our sleeves, then step out the street to hold hands. its only the first century of this clone war yet we are exhausted, from everyone being so right and i wonder if we ever gon slow down.

0

Jan 24, 2021

Jan 24, 2021 at 11:33 PM UTC

_HesWill

I live in the first century of the clone wars

I live in the first century of the clone wars most morning we’d wake up swiping up. the new papers don’t arrive no more because the news pours out of various device interrupting morning thoughts, selling us products to own more. we think sophisticatedly but stay closed off. happy to be clones, to be sold love. living vicariously through actors, models or influencers who show more. we think they are intelligent, they brave enough assuming they know more. consider the singular ways we live consumed by our individualism, our greed. consider the trees and the many people who puff this **** to cope on. each year, iPhones get expensive while screen light darkens the truth. I rarely write with a pen if i don't have autocorrect but I am a graduate, a grown up. I am reconciling with this spell from upon which i proceed but this war still goes on. imagine we find each other, then construct mutual peace instead of flashing lightsabers because we are so tough. imagine we say our piece while pinning respect on our sleeves, then step out the street to hold hands. its only the first century of this clone war yet we are exhausted, from everyone being so right and i wonder if we ever gon slow down.

35

sitting, in the darkness of my room trying, trying to squeeze out something, profound or, heartbreaking or, anything to prove my worth by spilling my heart out on a page but instead, i sit slicing deeper into my soul punishing myself for my inability to express my emotions through the medium of poetry despite my admiration of the stuff, the sophisticatedly woven lines pieced together so precisely they create art, showing my attempts as inferior but I suppose the best art is self-deprecating

0

Oct 4, 2015

Oct 4, 2015 at 12:32 PM UTC

chloeh

To Gain Entry

sitting, in the darkness of my room trying, trying to squeeze out something, profound or, heartbreaking or, anything to prove my worth by spilling my heart out on a page but instead, i sit slicing deeper into my soul punishing myself for my inability to express my emotions through the medium of poetry despite my admiration of the stuff, the sophisticatedly woven lines pieced together so precisely they create art, showing my attempts as inferior but I suppose the best art is self-deprecating

25

maelstrom of moribund memories shortlist of long-lusted envies amalgam of devastations frenzied i would have died long ago if i'd known i had it in me cajoled choruses of conceit abject persuasions of defeat adjunct desolations unceased i reckon there are worse things than a man being deceased uniquely embittered heartstrings sophisticatedly littered hope-dreams unashamedly delivered hurt-schemes but the loneliness was the worst thing

0

Nov 19, 2017

Nov 19, 2017 at 6:13 PM UTC

VaporSaint

This Is My Last Will And Testament

maelstrom of moribund memories shortlist of long-lusted envies amalgam of devastations frenzied i would have died long ago if i'd known i had it in me cajoled choruses of conceit abject persuasions of defeat adjunct desolations unceased i reckon there are worse things than a man being deceased uniquely embittered heartstrings sophisticatedly littered hope-dreams unashamedly delivered hurt-schemes but the loneliness was the worst thing

14