"spectacularly" poems
But I would rather be horizontal.
I am not a tree with my root in the soil
******* up minerals and motherly love
So that each March I may gleam into leaf,
Nor am I the beauty of a garden bed
Attracting my share of Ahs and spectacularly painted,
Unknowing I must soon unpetal.
Compared with me, a tree is immortal
And a flower-head not tall, but more startling,
And I want the one's longevity and the other's daring.
Tonight, in the infinitesimal light of the stars,
The trees and flowers have been strewing their cool odors.
I walk among them, but none of them are noticing.
Sometimes I think that when I am sleeping
I must most perfectly resemble them--
Thoughts gone dim.
It is more natural to me, lying down.
Then the sky and I are in open conversation,
And I shall be useful when I lie down finally:
The the trees may touch me for once, and the flowers have time for me.
15.1k
Why is it, when I am in Rome,
I'd give an eye to be at home,
But when on native earth I be,
My soul is sick for Italy?
And why with you, my love, my lord,
Am I spectacularly bored,
Yet do you up and leave me--then
I scream to have you back again?
11.6k
Gentle evening wind, non existent till a moment before
lying low among the children playing with the flakes of golden sun
fallen on the silver white sand, quickly rises, unnoticed by any one
flirt with the comely coconut palms lined on the beach,that act coy,
blows towards the long, rolling blue wave, meeting it headlong,
a blast, white spray springs up spectacularly like a fountain,
then, easily lifts three kitesurfers, fling them high up stylishly
across the fortress of water, they look invincible, untouched
by the waves, that look foolish eyeing skywards, the milling crowd
howls in mirth, seeing the dramatic twist, it's all fun till sun down.
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 1:20 PM UTC
I wanted to write a letter
for this girl on the bus,
but all i had to write on
was a banana.
so I wrote:
"when i saw you,
just now,
you are the most
spectacularly beautiful thing
i've ever seen
just now,
when I saw you."
she ran away.
she didn't touch
my banana.
Sep 30, 2012
Sep 30, 2012 at 11:06 AM UTC
I’m afraid I’ll lose him completely,
Even though I already have.
Another day passes,
Another memory of us disappears.
Leaving an empty hole in me, longing to be filled.
We both made mistakes, but I still was never good enough for his god-like complex.
As I fell for him like no other, we became two negative magnets repulsing.
I fought so hard to have my chance with him but when I looked over,
He hadn’t even lifted a finger to fight for me and had moved on.
He gave up so fast that it feels like his spectacularly imbecilic mind was made up the moment I met him.
And that I was just another girl he thought he had figured out and was an easy ****
But I wasn’t.
I stood my ground and didn’t give up my body to him and because of that he threw away any ounce of feelings for me and left.
One minute my small bony hand was wrapped in his,
Then within a blink of his deep brown eyes,
My hand slipped out of his and we shared our last kiss goodbye.
He looked me in the eyes after getting lost in them for a moment and said in a soft, regretful voice;
I don’t want to leave you.
That’s when I knew he had chosen her.
That’s when I knew I lost him.
And that no matter how much love we had for each other and how committed we were,
Even a friendship would be impossible because hearing him talk about her,
Or seeing him so happy with someone other than me,
Would hurt too much.
And I’d never be able to recover.
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 8:22 PM UTC
It's not that I want to fail. . .
just that, if I am going to anyway
why not do it spectacularly?
At least there's gossip. . .
that counts for some,
-thing, doesn't it?
Doesn't it?
Nov 10, 2018
Nov 10, 2018 at 4:10 PM UTC
Dust and rubble settle at my feet,
A chaotic collapse
Inside myself that I could never
Have imagined,
The foundations are shaken,
The cracks began to show,
And piece by piece
It all spectacularly fell apart,
Nothing to hold on to,
Nothing to steady myself with
As it all crashed and burned,
Leaving me surrounded by the ruins
Of an Empire that took years to build
And seconds to destroy.
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 11:17 AM UTC
We seem to gravitate towards coffee shops, even those who don't like hot beverages find themselves there. I suppose it's a good place to let go your baggage. Lose yourself for five minutes. Loosen up and unwind. That's hard to do even on a good day. The world always has an agenda that needs seeing to. Rather selfish of the Earth to be honest, and quite damaging to your self worth. You can't be at it's beck and call 24/7. But we try to, dear God do we try. Of course this leads to us burning up rather spectacularly. Giving, worrying, stressing, doing. Until we are left smoking, steam rising like a freshly made coffee. But nothing is fresh here. Burnt coffee. Unusable. No longer capable of the great feats we once were. Like the world had chewed us up and spit us out when we're no longer useful. What a ******** But what can you do to stop a ******** Not much as they are inheritly selfish - deep down in their very core, nothing but molten arrogance, festering beneath their skin this sense of entitlement. That is what it is. You can't change the world from what it is. Just as much as you can not change who you are. So take five minutes and go to a coffee shop. Lose yourself in a hot beverage. Watch the steam rise and be thankful it isn't yours.
Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 3:41 AM UTC
At the risk of sounding sexist
I’d like to pay my highest respects today
to the girl at my accountant’s
with the beautiful *******
Usually the only things that jiggle there
are the numbers on the ledger,
but today a couple of numbers
stuck out for me to admire.
She knew it all added up spectacularly well
as she bent down obligingly
and pointed out where I should sign
and showed me what I needed to see.
She knew and I knew that
capital gains and expenses
were comparatively insignificant here.
Saucy insouciance was the obvious upside.
Of course, I shouldn’t have noticed,
but then I'm afraid that's what happens
when you’re more
of a ******
than an entrepreneur.
Mike T Minehan
Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 8:43 PM UTC
Won't you shotgun blast me to the face?
Though do tell, don't I make you celestial?
-It's my specialty,
Spectacularly, I see you dancing in the clouds
Spectrally resembling and unsettling
An unfurling semblance of reality
Breathe in me, Goddess of my dreamscape
Eclipsing my fate and alleviating waking life
Admirably divine,
A collision of concupiscent melodies
As we perennially intertwine among stars
Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 2:22 AM UTC
She’s been put together;
spattered with
handfuls of shiny warning labels that
no one ever took the time to read,
only to reside in a lonely wooden box—
sheltered, still, and safe.
Living unlit and knowing nothing but patience,
she’s unaware of all the wonderment
that resides just beneath her own surface.
When the box finally opens,
she’s handled carefully
by strong, gentle hands that recognize
all of her treacherous potential.
She doesn’t flinch,
when those trusted fingers
strike the match
to light her fuse.
She doesn’t fret
when the heat catalyzes
a chemical reaction—
one far beyond her control.
She only sings
when her own jolt sends her rocketing
a hundred feet into the night sky.
And when she can’t stand the pressure
any longer
she swallows what pride she has left
and explodes—
a million strands of glittering fire
decorating the dark, ominous unknown.
Just for a moment, she hopes
she’s the most beautiful thing
those hands have ever touched.
But as she fizzles out into a small cloud
of smoke and something that once was,
she accepts her purpose
as the short-lived,
soon forgotten,
spectacularly unsuspected
good time.
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 1:02 PM UTC
The nettle stings, scrapes, scratches, and scuffed shoes were
far removed from us; the last worry as we cut,
crisscrossing to create a crawl space
through a wall of flesh-hungry growth -
at first - to gain access to more flesh-hungry growth
The discipline - for me - was an exhorted departure but the
product was worth every scab; an open space where we
could be: undisturbed, unfettered, unchained, and with
a live canopy we were free to create more, build more,
care more and leave a sliver of our growth
Perhaps more than a sliver. Perhaps it has become my
definition of what it meant to be young and to find a fit;
connect with the other forgers - akin to a close-knit
military unit - collecting driftwood, desks, drawers, drapes,
and designated seats to burn or to use as decor
And decorated it was. Spectacularly so! Swings hanging
from the sturdiest branches, discarded rugs coated
with muck, leaves, and filth dragged in to line our atrium,
a place for every member and a code:
"Nobody but us"
Simple society solidified with barbaric politics.
A system preaching tribal nonsense can't last long.
Mostly the damage was done when things got less simple;
when we grew and outgrew and the fences were put up.
The homes and the simple society were moved in shortly after
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 6:09 PM UTC
“I’m still in awe of words” (in life, as in poetry, timing is everything)
objects, humans, surprise and interrupt our
daily modalities, knocking us, yo! to the ground,
we, pounding it, for the word void appears,
the frustration of incapacity incarcerating,
accompanied by the loudest silenced scream,
of no poetry available, try again later!
in life, as in poetry, timing is everything
we walkabout, thinking of the scheduled eventualities, or
the dates calendar-circled, though some questioned marked,
in pencil inserted, will I be a mother, find me a husband,
a human grander grandee, fit to be with me a noble progenitor
of more than our generation, watching the sidewalk cracks for an
inkling of when, on or about such and such an alteration,
a seam undone,
a stumbling, seeing a realization as we fall, hands extending,
a notice of arrival,
all needing reconnoitering, commemorating, a poem prepared,
but none to no avail
in life, as in poetry, timing is everything
so we are in awe of words, so necessary, everybody knows,
the awe in awesome, a description for the pixels encapsulates
in I-phone photos,
the where and the why of when, I was grinning like a stupid fool,
the inability to deliver precisely when required the covering of
an appropriate description, your words, use your words, will
fail you spectacularly and so we remain awed, realizing
in life, as in poetry, timing is everything
but awesomely awesome word worlds, near and dear, held forever
in scrapbooks, the literary overlay of the treasures of everyday life,
are the still life of our longevity contextual, the celebratory,
the unexpected losses, largest to smallest, in size order,
kept fresh when you flip through those poems in dusty binders,
in oversized sewing boxes, yellowing in concert with our eyes,
graying with follicles of past pluperfect,
recalling not just the when’s, but the more important, now, the
wherefore and whereupon, the words marking the conjunctions,
recoding the recorded synapses firing sequentially, brain to fingers, the ah so of the poetry of lifetimes
“I’m still in awe of words” (in life, as in poetry, timing is everything)
<>
Saturday
September
21st
2019
Sep 21, 2019
Sep 21, 2019 at 1:31 PM UTC
Spreading dense night, dark robust forest,
growing relentless, virtually unstoppable;
it went on for some time after the sun surrendered
we were stranded in it's cloudy thickets, thorny bushes.
Then came white butterflies, waves after waves after waves,
from the silver moon's abode they descended so spectacularly.
We were overwhelmed, by this sudden invasion of beauty,
that swayed my mind, made it fly high weightless like a feather,
couldn't even notice them eating up the fear of the forest altogether.
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 7:30 AM UTC
You are amazing.
After what seemed like a lifetime of fervently searching through endless, abyssal, darkness, I have found a stunning array of the most spectacularly luminous qualities, in you. It may be hopelessly cliché, but you are the light at the end of the tunnel.
It is breathtakingly difficult to describe quite how fantastic you are. You are elusive, like a single, pure, white Trillium in a forest of ivy. Your beauty is beyond both simile and metaphor; to your form, there is no comparison. If it is possible for a person to be flawless, then I am sure that you are.
Every word you say captivates my undivided attention, and leaves me hoping for more. I am enraptured by every move your body makes. When you sing, I feel my pulse quicken, and I could listen for hours. When you dance, my eyes follow every action with genuine appreciation for your graceful motion.
No matter what I am doing, I catch myself thinking about you throughout the day, wishing I was next to you. You are everything I want, and more than I could ever ask for. You aren't afraid to laugh like a fool, or cry like a child, or scream at the top of your lungs, or smile like you've never felt pain.
Everything about you makes me crazy over you, and, sometimes, it's easy to question whether someone as incredible as you can even be real...
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 5:41 PM UTC
i’m trying hard
to keep it together
desperation is my middle name
restless nights
and hopeless days
i can’t do enough
can’t be enough
to keep up this juggling act
everything is falling apart so spectacularly
a fire of blues and reds and purples
one that only i can see
so i play a little game with myself
_let’s see how well i can pretend everything is okay_
i’ve gotten good at it recently
as my plans for my future start to crumble in my palms
i can still feign interest over a friend’s passing fling
i’ve even been able to pretend
my self esteem is going up
accepting compliments
even convincing myself i’m not a failure
_it’s laughable, really_
a piece of **** like me,
who can’t even keep
her life from falling apart,
finally loving herself?
_not gonna happen_
so i laugh
and sit
and watch
as _everything falls apart_
Nov 27, 2018
Nov 27, 2018 at 12:15 AM UTC
I am spectacularly
Ignorant. I cannot understand anything
Complex, not to mention intelligent.
Somehow, I am miserable at
Every new thing I attempt, I
Fail at the same things I watch my peers
Excel at.
Over the past few years,
I have found that I am worth
Absolutely nothing. I hate myself
More than I ever thought was possible.
I really don't think
I'm going to be okay.
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 1:19 PM UTC
We...
..Say So, We Was blessed by the almighty with your gifting.
..Say So, We Was led incredibly as a football fraternity by your Kingship leadership skills.
..Say So, You Was a father, provider, protector, friend, brother and national hero to all.
..Say So, It Was joy to watch you fly Acrobatically like an Angel to catch, punch, stop, embrace spectacularly those ***** between the sticks.
..Say So, He Was one of the best Mother Africa ever shared with the world.
..Senzo Meyiwa, You are never gone but will live forever in our hearts and memories.
..Say So, You are one of a kind, the kind that gave more than it was expected, more than demanded, more than warranted.
Ohh Senzo Meyiwa, gone too soon, but like they say, "The Good Die Young!",
Thank you for sharing YOU with us, a part of YOU will forever live in us and rest in Peace Captain 'O My Captain!
24 September 1987 till 26 October 2014 - Senzo Robert Meyiwa.
Jamaleri© 31102014
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 8:55 AM UTC
he’s interested in disasters,
the kind of catastrophes that the media has a field day with,
the kind of accidental atrocities that are awe-inspiring in their horrid glory,
the kind of things that have self destructed spectacularly – so much so that the remaining debris becomes a masterpiece on the ocean floor, a memorial for beautified trauma.
and I guess that’s why he’s interested in me.
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 10:09 AM UTC
You are the 'North America' nebula
in all your splendor and colors
I am the remains of a supernova,
even NASA has long discarded,
exploded spectacularly-ancient Chinese recorded-
yet still alive, for you to admire!
wearily I view the star forming clouds
chomping through the cosmos,
enchanting still, I guess, I am, for a swirling landscape of stars
like you to profess your love;
I am overwhelmed, but this absurd drama
will eventually plunge us in to dark holes.
My darling, the cosmic dance has no rules;
pain in murky regions of star formation,
iridescent display of dead stars seeming to remain ever,
love, loss, collision, birth or rebirth
no apparent reason for anything, being and nothingness
too are kaleidoscopic, just creations of auto suggestion.
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 9:36 AM UTC
It’s quite a thing for us to have
A beating, working heart
To inhale, exhale, inhale again
As you fall spectacularly apart
For when you die according to
Any book I’ve read
Your heart goes still, your lungs deflate
To be considered dead
You shouldn’t feel the pulsing blood
Flow warmly through your veins
You shouldn’t walk and talk and think
Or feel such intense pain
There’s something so poetic
In being the walking dead
To be murdered so profoundly
On such an inconsequential bed
As dignity fell to the ground
Like a ***** takes of her clothes
Your body somehow betrays itself
And completely and utterly froze
So while you lay there dying
Your heart remains so strong
Your lungs- they keep on breathing-
It’s as though there’s nothing wrong
When the killing is finally finished
When the deed is finally done
The world slowed and hastened all at once
Into confused, oblivion
For how can you be breathing
When your life has come to an end?
When you’ve been so completely broken
There’s nothing left to even mend
But get up and walk you do
And inhale, exhale you must
Because, unfortunately, your heart must stop
For you to turn to dust
Like a ghost without the benefit
Of being properly dead
You inhale, exhale, all the while
With that memory in your head
Being undead hurts and numbs your
Senses simultaneously
And your wounds bleed out in places
No one else can feel or see
Wake up, inhale, exhale, sigh
Pretend the same you still exists
But that girl is dead and gone
Even though her ghost persists
Apr 2, 2018
Apr 2, 2018 at 1:15 AM UTC
India is our country
And we are told
It's a great country
However, I beg to differ
Rather, we are sold
The idea of an utopian nation
A country with a myriad variety of cultures
Races, religions and languages
United by a common feeling of brotherhood
However, look beneath the hood
And the idea implodes spectacularly
Crumbling in a heap
Instead, emergeth a divide so deep
That it can be bested not
Even by the mighty Pacific Ocean
Truth be told, we are but a Hindu nation
In all but name
Instead, we put the blame
For all our evils
On the British, one day
And the Mughals, the very next day
While more and more blood spills
In the name of religion and caste
How long will this last?
India is our country
And as per the Constitution
All Indians are our brothers and sisters
However, if you use your imagination
Understand, you will
That this is just a facade
Designed to protect our international image
As you turn page after page
Of our so-called glorious history
Emergeth the true picture
A land comprising thousands of castes
Fighting each other since the beginning of time
Something that would put to shame
Even the fickle-minded Romans
During the reign of Julius Caesar
We Indians are indeed pathetic humans
Falling like nine pins
At the slightest hint of pressure
While boasting about past wins
That no longer matter
India is our country
And a time there was
When, a proud Indian I was
However, passed have light years, since then
Oppressed, have been our women
More so, those who are underprivileged
Brahmins, were the rapists of Bilkis Bano
And hence, did they go unpunished
Meanwhile, ***** by the Indian Army
Are the women of Kashmir and the North Eastern states
For which, not a single mainstream feminist bothers to show even the slightest sign of empathy
Something that truly makes my blood boil
Even as hundreds of wrongdoers get bail
Because, our justice system is an epic fail
On the other hand, you have innocent people
Languishing in jail for ages
Because nobody bothers to turn the pages
Of the Constitution of India
Yes, India is our country indeed
But patriots we are, no longer
Because, ultimately, humanity is stronger
A field where India can never take the lead
Yes, Indians we are
However, humans we are first
Dec 9, 2023
Dec 9, 2023 at 2:01 AM UTC
dear prince george
( and your parents too)
hope you enjoyed
our menagerie of
fauna, at Taronga Zoo.
sorry we could only give
you the, Bilby, the rabbit
come rat rodent hybrid
marsupial thingymajig.
but, you're just not old enough for a kangaroo
and koala's a bit too much
like you, mostly they eat sleep and poo. yes they
are cute and cuddly, but
they tend to wee all over
you, especially if you have a celebrity hue. and you so do!
sorry, you are n't going to
Ularu, it is a spectacularly
big rock, with much meaning and mystery.
but out there, outback, beyond the last black stump,
it is stinking hot, and dusty
to boot and there really isn't
a lot for someone under one
to do.
one last thing, sorry we disturbed you, on your day off, when you were just doing normal baby things.
unforgivable in a sense,
but then your are the flavour of the month, down here and your smiling face
and chubby arms are doing
wonders for the crown.
so smile little prince,
don't you wear a frown,
soon you will be home
and forgotten all about,
the down under clowns.
your humble convict
betterdays
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 6:26 PM UTC
Spec-tac-ular
There may be times when you contemplate & debate...
&feel; as insignificant as a grain of sand in the middle of the desert
but
*Know that to me, you have always been the speck of dust out of the million other that stood out and glisnted gold in the swirling sunlight
While the others merely hovered amidst the air as if they where lost.*
When people expect and expect...and expect of you
Until you feel like a piece of blue-tac that has been used over and over and over again
Until your sweet stickiness is lost
*Know that I would still love you even if to the world you seemed useless.And I would remind you that even tho sometimes I'm not always there to freshen up your day I shall never stop trying to be there 4 you even if I lose my mintyness too...
because a tic never abadndons a tac*
Because you are the girl who I will never be able to truly serve justice by describing you by words.
You are the one who I tried to describe by using the word
Spectacluar...
& even after I broke it down...
Even then...
Just like a beautiful forever unknown
There's always an end part that I can never fully know..about you
But I guess that's what makes you a beautiful mystery.
The fact you're like a precious golden 'speck'
And a 'tac' that never stops breaking off pieces of yourself to help others even if it means you have less
But...
'Ular' you are something 'ular' too...
I don't know what or what the 'ular' of you is...
But I'm sure whatever 'it' is...it adds up to make you...
Spectacularly...you
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 5:58 AM UTC
Don’t you just love the circus
A place so filled with magic
Where even if the show is new
The acts spectacularly classic
A place with lions and tigers
And the crowd roars even louder
And the art is brought to life
Like it’s sprinkled in magic powder
Where the clown is real
Like the laughs that will follow
And your dreams are full filled
Your never left feeling hollow
The daredevils in the spotlight
Have you holding your breath
The show is so full with life
But it’s like performing with death
There is no other place like it
Where they bring magic to the surface
It’s a whole new world to discover
This is the life on the circus
May 31, 2020
May 31, 2020 at 5:30 AM UTC