"specialness" poems
I don't mind if you touch them,
but maybe she did,
I don't care anymore,
to me there just a pair of flesh,
but to her,
they're still innocent,
Mine have lost the specialness in the I want you to touch them,
Now it's met with I don't cares,
For I no longer have what she has,
those first time butterflies like i'm shy when I remove my top,
when it's the first time I show them off to you,
because they're not special anymore,
when a time in my life my brest made me happy,
were I could look in the mirror and feel good about something,
but they became nothing,
so now I look and see nothing but a black canvas of disappointment,
everytime I stare at my reflection,
every time I see my wound,
our wound,
because that's the one that everyone sees,
the rest I made are hidden just for me,
and I wish our wound was like that,
I wish I could totally remember what happened to my breast,
but all I remember was burning right over the year old scar again,
because the pain of remember hurt more then my second burn,
but the first time you were the one to burn me,
and I had hid it so well,
but there came a time where I didn't care,
and I showed it off,
battle scar? call it what you want,
if you wanna grab my **** go for it,
they have gone through worse assault,
if you wanna see them,
it's not going to mean **** to me,
and I am really sorry that thats hows it's been for me,
but it's not my fault my ***** innocence was stolen from me,
because of a *****
with what used to look like the end of one of his cigarettes,
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 11:31 PM UTC
never a fantasy
but always an illusion
the immigrants from
foreign lands cannot
accept the fallacy
but
I, not born but raised
on the lands they
now strive for,
feel little specialness for
this o' so special
place
Sep 24, 2010
Sep 24, 2010 at 9:44 AM UTC
Talk incessantly.
Dwell on temporal affairs.
Ask friends for advice; ignore it.
Air out perceived problems constantly.
Respond defensively.
Never take criticism at face value.
Write off whoever won't humor you.
Accuse others of misunderstanding you.
Build your lifestyle on whims.
Presume entitlement to *** for "being nice".
Choose an inappropriate diet for your body.
Avoid personal responsibility.
Refuse to own your failures and errors.
Justify behaviors that create conflict.
Rationalize unfruitful thought and action at all cost.
Dismiss what contradicts your prejudices.
Compare yourself to Jesus.
Insist on your specialness.
Insist that others acknowledge it.
Don't communicate your expectations.
Blame others for your bad choices.
Fish for compliments.
Use sentiment to ply others.
Use sentiment to ply yourself.
Subject anyone to yourself
while the above applies to you.
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 3:30 PM UTC
Believe in your heart that
something wonderful is about to happen.
Love your life.
Believe in your own powers,
and your own potential,
and in your own innate goodness.
Wake every morning
with the awe of just being alive.
Discover each day the magnificent,
awesome beauty in the world.
Explore and embrace life in yourself
and in everyone you see each day.
Reach within to find your own specialness.
Amaze yourself and rouse those around you
to the potential of each new day.
Don't be afraid to admit
that you are less than perfect;
this is the essence of your humanity.
Let those who love you help you.
Trust enough to be able to take.
Look with hope to the horizon of today,
for today is all we truly have.
Live this day well.
Let a little sun out as well as in.
Create your own rainbows.
Be open to all your possibilities;
all possibilities and Miracles.
Always believe in Miracles.
Dec 3, 2011
Dec 3, 2011 at 6:00 PM UTC
I like purple. It’s as simple
as that. Well, maybe not that simple.
I’ve in love with purple. We are unified
through time and space
forever until I die. Purple, being immortal,
would mourn my death and find
one of its many followers to connect with.
But for me, there will always be purple. If I had a choice
in any expression of character design that had
my own personal preference of color, purple
would be there somewhere. I would dye my
hair purple if I could, but my mother
told me never to come home
as long as my hair is dyed.
I love her and believe her, so I
don’t dye my hair. I have a
purple dress or two that I dress up in to express
my beauty. I know
it sounds terrible thinking
about it, I have to dress up to express
beauty to others. However, the fact that
I’m complemented means something to me. The way
I do my makeup and carry myself
and choose to dress, it has an effect
on those that lays eyes upon me. I beam with pride,
showing all my expressions of purple. A homemade purple bow
here,
a lavender wig there, a dress with the right touches of purple-
maroon
and a beaming mahogany woman, brimming with specialness. I am a purple girl,
not the only one, but the most reflexive I can be.
If I could color my soul, it would be purple sometimes.
Not every time, but a lot of the times. Any kind of purple
would do. The light purples
like lilac and light lavender are sweet and fluffy.
They remind me of happy seventy-five degree weather
days with a comforting breeze, and no pollen
since I’m allergic and pollen is pretty much one of
those things I’d encounter in hell. Darker purples,
like plum and grape, give a more mature
vibe of elegance and sophistication. It reminds me
of a dark night, a woman in high heels and
a dress with a slit so high that
it makes men lose their religions and minds
for a taste of her tantalizing forbidden fruit,
with a flawless expression of her body that gives
those men wet dreams and fantasies. In my heart,
there is a purple stream that flows from the heart that starts to
circle around my body and continues to float into the
ground until it touches the core of the planet
and up in the air into space and beyond infinity.
It always seems to be there, that purple
stream of magic and imagination. I dance a purple dance,
leaving traces of purple steps in my wake.
So I come back to the beginning. “I like purple.”
With those words, I haven’t done my expression justice.
It’s true, but it is an understatement.
Apr 13, 2020
Apr 13, 2020 at 9:00 AM UTC
Oily flowers
Slap faces like an angel
Simply twain, simpler powers
Sit in the sun, like a smile for the devil
Agony, of an oily smile
Sit to once, upon nothing more...
Hap and adage, require you, of a while
Meaning no-where's step, for a curious war...
Anything, everywhere at once...
A promise to shed, a tear
Through and through, before life begun
The love and misery, is a magic, to fear?
Sated...?
And shown to chew the thought
Is a mystery, of reality, so fated?
When poor is such, aren't we a death sought?
Oily more...
We said the cope, of another world
Suggesting only, the question's we were
Given pride's notion, specialness's devotion; is a fears lover, ever early?
Jan 29, 2023
Jan 29, 2023 at 6:38 AM UTC
Diva Trees
Aloneness gives a tree
An opportunity
To stand out
From the scene
She enters nature's stage
Like a many-armed diva
Receiving flowers
Awards
And much applause
She is painted and pictured
By people
As her rings grow
Ever so slowly
Basking in her own glow
Of specialness
With no pretenders in sight
To steal her light
Her water transfused
From veins
Down below
Only for her, they flow
She says:
“I am here
And I will not be ignored
So feast your eyes
“Then feast some more”
Sean Hunt Windermere Feb 21 2016
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 2:07 PM UTC
Urges, we never said...
Were the time, the thoughts of open bother
Of a sleeping prophet, with silence to lead:
A care into the limelight, with heaven to hover
A brassier share, in the need of promises
Sent from guarded selves, a world which delves
Integrity is mine for a shall and a swallow of vices
That remembers you, when patience looked for life's health
Speaking of hell...
Strange invaders, strangers in the mystery of this yarn
Weal no more, than a crash of existence, we know so well
Letting mercy see my upset, a habit has me by the toe I shall learn...
Is it me, or did I just wake up?
City's of strength, and the embarrassment of delicate poise
Have opened their doors, to a solitude that has become a covenant
With the voice we add, is silent warnings of another's choice?
Tell me the story, comes my conscience
A hap of retribution in the same, the shadows of a scream
I have made, a promising God, a sign of the times to presence
That has looked, and seen our terror, the bitterness of a demon...
Save me from a stone of kinship, with a kiss...?
Proper shape to a wish alive, in sordid chance, a wind
Of guidance and justifying malevolence, that has stolen my wish
From the heart of me, a stare of pining finish to a lie to mind...
Pillows make fast friends, if shade is forever cool, intrepid...
Interest in a careful window, is many to fathom a liberty in shyness
Acts and paces of facts, run faster than all of the powers that are, hid
When children dance, the seed of specialness is a call to wisdom's bless...?
Care for another, victim of insincerity?
Long truth's and the tomorrow of interim
Has a rather chosen, possession of sardonic not, the charity
Of privilege run so far, for a wicked dream to lend...
Cough, cough; palpable
Anecdote to share a legend, no man has let live
Longer than a kiss in the heat of a kindness to ****
Seeing is believing, even when our hope in a purpose above, a world in love with what we give...?
Nov 2, 2023
Nov 2, 2023 at 9:21 PM UTC
Ten buttercup summers ago
sweet gilt strands spiraled above
dual attraction,
moments fanned friendship
into smoke of commitment and
passion strewed
petals on beginnings of romance.
Five lilac seasons back we
picked scented happiness when,
defences fallen,
meadows of floral nectar ended
aloneness and love
waltzed thru' former convention
without any note
of doubtful retreat or regret.
Two hollyhock years gone
seeds hidden in needy hearts
took root and bloomed
as we tended the scent of total
oneness until,
coffined in fathomless shock,
happenings flattened
hope's dreams of contentment.
A grief ago winter's cold
wilted growth, buried treasure
and brought an end
to love's beautiful garden, yet
rainbowed in memory
those flowers still hold colours
of our very specialness.
Aug 7, 2016
Aug 7, 2016 at 5:17 AM UTC
Finish my pout:
Still in silver service, silence for stone
Speed of specialness, I implore to route
A friends smile, to a season of its loan...
Brazen, the tooth of intimacy
Even to the point, of reticent doubt
We are the sigh, of a debacle, ready for instancy
That has come and gone with needs, the many is now...
Courage
And the taint of a maligning lip
So sovereign, for a river of couth's, wage
*** and deliberation's share, in the stoic misery we whit:
Is a taste in wishes with none's voice, for more?
Set in mutual distrust, the music of completion...
Is a hardened drive for poised meager and tumultuous, war?
Of sincerity to fathom the just, the tow of comprehension with sin?
I hate, therefore I dream in colors...
Of heaven with a remembered plea:
Sated with your soul, and the intricacy of what honor; force
I have given not, the heed of history, in the voice of youth to be free...?
Feb 2, 2023
Feb 2, 2023 at 2:44 PM UTC
it's not an unfamiliar touch
but it makes my body tingle
when the slightest brush of your finger
graces the top of my hand
i get a cooling sensation down my back
a smile wide across my face
and butterflies dancing in my stomach
your smile is worthy of a prize
it stems right from the lightness of your eyes
i think it stands out as more than precious
something rare
not often come by
the warmth of your smile
along with the specialness of your touch
is all part of the drawing factor
that brings me closer to you
i want to know you differently now
i want to know you better
i want to be an adult with you
i want to explore all that is your mind
and all that is your body
i want you to explore me just as equally
i love when you look at me
deep into my soul
i wish that i were around you all the time
never having a moment so dull
hold my hand
and tell me you love me
call me baby
tell me our deep thoughts
take me out for talks and long walks
play my favorite movie
and sing my favorite song
i want all that is special in your mind
just please hold my hand
that will be infinitely enough from you
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 1:07 AM UTC
What is it that people have
that makes them so happy
for having found me
among all the others
I know I have something
that is very wished and wanted,
and appreciated,
but what utility will it have if I keep it for myself?
If it is to be seen and shared,
I understand it should be with the right people,
who wait and work
and fight so fairly to be deserving of it
But what is wrong with these people
who work and wait,
and deserve,
but when finally get, forget
I understand the specialness of what I have.
Yes, it is brilliant,
but it is not blindly,
so please do not ignore
everything we have been through before
until I allowed you to get here
My pearl should always be mine
Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 8:45 AM UTC
Tree leaves shake, dancing for my eyes.
Many trees have come
before and will come
after
the most beautiful leaves have fallen
from the one in my kitchen window.
All the winters that have been and gone
taint nothing about
this particular
one
as it blows across the skylight
of my tiny, windowless room.
So why do I pine inside
to be special within
to be the only light
shining upon
your eyes
as they happen to focus on my body
tracing my face in the lamp's shade.
Like the winters, I have come
blowing across your dimmed sun
not the first
may not even be
the last
but I am here, now. With you.
in this room with too many small cupboards
and the smell of a growing familiarity.
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 8:12 PM UTC
Never ending wonder
Indifference forever swept away in the presence of a child their purchases not paid for with
Money but wonder spellbound they search with eyes of innocence much is reveled when there
Are no ulterior motives they wear a priceless attire starting with a smile that has no equal they
Alone can put any item of clothing on muss it up and then look like different degrees of angels
They create out of a whole wide world of material it can be simple sticks or sand at the shore
They find the best use of nothing and then give it an exalted state by hands and minds that as of
Yet have no limitations they truly are without guile they could spend ceaseless hours on the
Tiniest objects and endeavors but who can leave all the rest go so like butterflies they flit from
One area to another and by doing so give life a specialness never duplicated always we as adults
Wish if we could just return to terms and ideals so fabulous days without end nights are inviting
Go assured that at every turn a new thrill will spill out of the most common undisclosed place
don’t mention snow we see just a portion of the show instantly they go into highest
Sensitivity what spectacle they perceive the world already transformed then they go one higher
They infuse wonder and magic together they are the smallest kings and queens they march to
Rule their kingdom stirring and swirling more so than the snow and wind ever can they stride
And divide they come into close alikeness to God they are pure they believe everyone should be
Too and pass unbound into glories unfettered welcome to almost second childhood
Jan 9, 2012
Jan 9, 2012 at 7:06 PM UTC
it's that feeling when you first walk into a concert,
you know what i'm talking about.
when you see the red, green, and blue spot lights.
illuminating our eyes
once again, igniting the spark they try to put out
everywhere you look people are pulsing to the beat, as it unites the crowd in ways you didn't even know existed
standing there, you are allowed to forget
forget the bad math grade, the ****** week, the relationship that you will probably never be able to fix with your mother
I wish that one could feel like this all the time.
but then, that might ruin the specialness of it
If I could feel like this all the time, then maybe I wouldn't feel so lost all the time
That's the beauty of concerts. You let the music find you.
You may be in a crowd with a thousand other people, but that song, those lyrics, that beat is meant for you
Let it crawl into you. Starting from your toes until it climbs up to your head.
Allowing you to take down the walls, brick by brick, song by song...
Giving you the best high you've ever had.
I hope you stand next to someone you love.
But if you dont, love them anyway because you are at a concert and nothing,
nothing
is better than that
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 9:50 PM UTC
Cosmic Debris
Cover your head and run away
chicken little all abluster
the sky is falling so they say
the bolide explosions from above
stole the thunder from larger DA14
but this is not the only cosmic debris
and Frank had warned us so long ago
I'm talking about the jive talk brother
from the politicians that we elected
entrusted our world with
too many seem to think it appears
that they were appointed with papal providence
as though GOD herself, or himself
had annointed their specialness
and dam the torpedos full speed ahead
they rule with arrogance and yet
yet we elect new ones every time
Frank also warned us about the yellow snow
I hope most of us paid attention on that one
cause we can't seem to get the aforementioned correct
Gomer LePoet...
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 7:08 PM UTC
Your fine eyes and lively wit
first caught his attention,
your light, lush figure
he discerned upon closer inspection.
You then had the audacity
to speak your mind,
to tell your unwanted suitor
where to go.
Nonetheless, what did he find?
A young lady brimming
with charm and intelligence,
a country girl of unrivaled specialness.
And hither came his letter,
an eye-opening missive,
a charitable benediction
that proved redemptive.
Here your prejudice began to be
worked on for the better,
its constant hold relenting
until it unfettered altogether.
His agony of rejection
soon warred against his pride,
his ardency for you
could not be denied.
A chance encounter
and you were
at once astonished
at what your heart did reveal,
his intense stare warmed your cheeks,
his kind words
and acts of goodness
then sealed the deal.
You could love no other.
And in this blissful denouement
you agreed to become his wife and lover.
Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy, Mistress of Pemberley...
Jan 1, 2020
Jan 1, 2020 at 2:47 PM UTC
If they were Of The People they’d tog in tees
The uniform of the Proletariat
To demonstrate their unique specialness
And admire each other’s piercings and tats
Sitting at a bar in dinner jackets
Without any irony, just two men
And talking with each other, not to ‘phones
Quiet voices – so totally not cool
Having a few after a semi-do
They’ve been noticed1 - not Good Comrades, these two
1“Your attitude’s been noticed.” – Commissar to Yuri in Doctor Zhivago
May 12, 2018
May 12, 2018 at 4:04 PM UTC
I again in me am lost,
Restrained by the sound of my voice in the wind.
There is no tamed charm or lucid movement,
That brings forth a natural act within the play.
The game is always on and the challenge is difficult at best,
What do we succeed for when we become everyone else?
When individual specialness becomes a back boated myth to nowhere,
Is it irony or sarcasm to ones idioms that makes the difference?
A play everyone plays,
A test at one point everyone fails.
We are all not complex,
But neither are we all simple either.
So the question remains,
What are we?
Frivolous travelers looking for a place to lay our head,
Or someone special to enjoy the rest of our lives with.
The question feels unanswered,
And lost feels so much clearer than being found.
Mar 10, 2017
Mar 10, 2017 at 2:21 PM UTC
When you move between your family
And the things you still want
Do you yearn
Or are you
Reconciled with
That was the things
That don't count
Is it fresh in your memory
Or do you smile at its
Going
Content with the fact
You kept the human race growing
This is life
This family
This is the way that we are
Dreams o specialness
Get devoured by truth
In the needs o the hours.
Dec 26, 2024
Dec 26, 2024 at 4:11 PM UTC
It's our anniversary well at least it would have been.
If we were still together and this day we would have seen.
With laughter, love and specialness between the two of us.
It's a shame we can not do that now we’re on a different bus .
I would love to hold you close and make pure love with you.
But now that is just my fantasy because there's nothing I can do.
The feeling of your body and touch are now within my mind.
Your lovely nakedness and beauty are simply one of a kind.
My heart bleeds every night as the tears role down my face
I will always love you even though your out of place.
My thoughts are always of you now that you have gone away.
I really do so miss you more than words can ever say.
You will always be on my mind it will always be this way.
And I truly do belong to you more so on this special day.
Every moment belongs to you your always in my thought
Now I can not see your face it's your image that is caught
So I am just a wanderer in a void of darkness in the night.
Nothing will ever be the same again it will never be just right.
I shall wonder forever alone to you nothing is compared.
Because I do not have you and the love that we both shared.
It doesn't matter whether we are apart and its for an eternity
No on will replace you no one else is good enough for me.
Only ever one person touches me I think that you know who.
And my whole body and soul will always belong to you
Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 4:33 AM UTC
Death brings peace
To those who wish.
To those who are open to it,
Death brings the sweetest of kiss.
What is death but life itself;
Repeating gain, again.
The same in one, all together,
Both happiness and sin.
We all will see, we all have seen,
The specialness of this.
It comes and goes and comes again,
Have you witnessed it?
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 9:26 PM UTC
there is a forecast
brewing over the weeping landscape
thunderous clouds pound the earth
and bruised the cerulean sky
into purple emphasis of pain
the electricity rages
and cracks the horizon
the rain pelts in a single exhale
as I ran away
wait until the affection cedes
then as the storm ascends
pump your arms
pull your lip over your teeth
shut your eyes tight tight tight
as the forecast will rage tonight
yes it will, it will rage
upon the terrains of your chest
that inner specialness
don't stop running,
run run run run
don't worry about the mascara
or the ends of your shirt
dig your fingernails
into the betrayed flesh
of your palms
run run run run
the storm raging upon you
don't let it catch you
never turn back
what the hell were you doing there
you know you are a ******
a creep, an unlabeled something
a someone with no one
don't worry about your shoes
they fall, they always fall
keep your head down
and run as fast as you can
bury the keys to your gates
drop it in a well
right now all you have to do
is to protect yourself
from those anguished memories
the almost encounters and doubts
the insecurities and fragmented hopes
keep my head down
right now,
just escape
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 7:29 PM UTC
Ten buttercup summers ago
shy gilt strands spiraled above
dual attraction,
moments fanned friendship
into smoke of commitment and
passion strewed
petals on paths of romance.
Five lavender seasons past we
picked fragrant happiness when,
defences fallen,
meadows of floral nectar ended
aloneness and love
waltzed thru' former convention
without any regret.
Three hollyhock years gone
seeds birthing in tended hearts
took root then softened
and doubt fell to vows of total
at-oneness until, coffined
by onerous shattering shock
hope's dreams met ice and froze.
One mourning ago grief's cold
wilted heart's planted for pleasure
and brought death's scent
to love's beautiful garden, yet
faded now into memory
shades of our flowers still hold
those petals of specialness.
Jan 2, 2017
Jan 2, 2017 at 5:29 PM UTC