"spirited" poems - Hello Poetry

"spirited" poems

Pinto? No, not the wild-spirited, color-splotched mare with mane streaming like flames-thrown behind in the wind Taking desert inclines with scuffing hooves on rock catching her balance in mesquite curbing? The sage, dust All that nature throws in its pathway to knowledge toward treachery of crosswalks? “P-l-e-a-s-e don't slow down! Stop signs--? ”No! Just keep going! Don't slow down now!” “They'll hear us coming 3 blocks away!” Pinto? Clogged carburetor--? No one much-mentioned rear-end inferno reputation?? A mere twinge in my signature Woman-without-a-clue “Hey, it runs, right? Gets where we're goin'?” Kids duck in back seat so as not to be seen In the cloud of smoke We make our approach Hiss Spitter, Belch, Pop and-- BANG! --Like a gunshot Kids take cover on street, in backseat duck down so not to be noticed... “Oh Ma! MA!!! Not right here! Farther down!” ...so not to be seen ...by friends that matter... in this ride from hell! Backfiring Beast-- “Friends” skitter away from what will emerge from the smoke and fumes of high-risk-situation Kids spill out through jammed door to unexpected accolades onto equality's curb of laughter Public school's wake of exhaust and relief I drive mercifully away Start of another school day

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Aug 7, 2018

Aug 7, 2018 at 1:11 PM UTC

elizabeth-balise

Red Ford Pinto--Nice Body--$500

Pinto? No, not the wild-spirited, color-splotched mare with mane streaming like flames-thrown behind in the wind Taking desert inclines with scuffing hooves on rock catching her balance in mesquite curbing? The sage, dust All that nature throws in its pathway to knowledge toward treachery of crosswalks? “P-l-e-a-s-e don't slow down! Stop signs--? ”No! Just keep going! Don't slow down now!” “They'll hear us coming 3 blocks away!” Pinto? Clogged carburetor--? No one much-mentioned rear-end inferno reputation?? A mere twinge in my signature Woman-without-a-clue “Hey, it runs, right? Gets where we're goin'?” Kids duck in back seat so as not to be seen In the cloud of smoke We make our approach Hiss Spitter, Belch, Pop and-- BANG! --Like a gunshot Kids take cover on street, in backseat duck down so not to be noticed... “Oh Ma! MA!!! Not right here! Farther down!” ...so not to be seen ...by friends that matter... in this ride from hell! Backfiring Beast-- “Friends” skitter away from what will emerge from the smoke and fumes of high-risk-situation Kids spill out through jammed door to unexpected accolades onto equality's curb of laughter Public school's wake of exhaust and relief I drive mercifully away Start of another school day

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Upon the dark night, striking three; A tick representing each step in time, but time overwhelmed by a trinity of peace, and a plan greater than one's wildest dreams. As the trees clap their praises unto a summer wind, and waves flood the skies with their roaring rumbles of exaltation, a bird sings unto the dark night her song, unique, sweet, and free-spirited Another beauty upon the night, a tulip, blossoming, not fully grown, in admiration of this free spirit, the bird. The tulip observes from a distance the song the bird sings A praise, a never ending thankfulness "Thank You for the trees, Thank You for the waves, And thank You for me," the bird sings. In awe of the song bird, the tulip longs to grow, to blossom, to fly, to sing; Oh, the joy, the praise, the song she'll bring when fully grown to exemplify her thanks to the three But, Hold! The clock ticking three, a breath He takes. The songs of beauty the bird once sang are silenced more than a whisper Oh, dear, wilting Tulip; she wonders, "Why?" she misunderstands, "Why has the bird's song been hushed?" Oh, so joyful with praise, the songs she sang, but now unto another Audience, unheard by the flower; However, the sun rises, the flower realizes, A new day is upon her. The trees clap their praises unto a summer wind, and Waves flood the skies with their roaring rumbles of exaltation, Just like any other day. Partaking in full bloom overnight, grown, she hears the call of three: You're unique, sweet, and your free-spirit will sing, for the steps of time past quicker than the steady rhythm of that clock ticking Fly free, song bird, Your legacy will only grow sweeter with time As the bloom of a tulip smiles and praises the One unto which your song once thrived.

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Feb 25, 2018

Feb 25, 2018 at 2:08 PM UTC

JessicaJarvisPoetry

A Story About a Beautiful Songbird

Upon the dark night, striking three; A tick representing each step in time, but time overwhelmed by a trinity of peace, and a plan greater than one's wildest dreams. As the trees clap their praises unto a summer wind, and waves flood the skies with their roaring rumbles of exaltation, a bird sings unto the dark night her song, unique, sweet, and free-spirited Another beauty upon the night, a tulip, blossoming, not fully grown, in admiration of this free spirit, the bird. The tulip observes from a distance the song the bird sings A praise, a never ending thankfulness "Thank You for the trees, Thank You for the waves, And thank You for me," the bird sings. In awe of the song bird, the tulip longs to grow, to blossom, to fly, to sing; Oh, the joy, the praise, the song she'll bring when fully grown to exemplify her thanks to the three But, Hold! The clock ticking three, a breath He takes. The songs of beauty the bird once sang are silenced more than a whisper Oh, dear, wilting Tulip; she wonders, "Why?" she misunderstands, "Why has the bird's song been hushed?" Oh, so joyful with praise, the songs she sang, but now unto another Audience, unheard by the flower; However, the sun rises, the flower realizes, A new day is upon her. The trees clap their praises unto a summer wind, and Waves flood the skies with their roaring rumbles of exaltation, Just like any other day. Partaking in full bloom overnight, grown, she hears the call of three: You're unique, sweet, and your free-spirit will sing, for the steps of time past quicker than the steady rhythm of that clock ticking Fly free, song bird, Your legacy will only grow sweeter with time As the bloom of a tulip smiles and praises the One unto which your song once thrived.

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Fly, Dragonfly, fly! Spread your wings and flex your tail take off to the skies, follow the blowing winds! Leave behind the Wicked Men of Hollowing Trail and escape the poisons of their worded sins Fly, Dragonfly, fly! Race, Dragonfly, race! Sweep your wings back against the windy skies Let your heart propel your spirited sprint faster! Faster! Escape from the Forest of Unnerving Lies and the creatures of the Lost Souled ******** Race, Dragonfly, race! Hunt, Dragonfly, hunt! Beat your wings to the sounds of the butterflies Feed your hunger for protecting the meek with the haunting taste of Honey-Soaked Flies and the sting of Sugar-Coated Bees Hunt, Dragonfly, hunt! Rest, Dragonfly, rest! Allow the venom to still your beatful wings Let the swift death claim a Hero's life Beckon the Raven of Heaven to blissfully sing to the tune of the Stalking Sparrow's whistling knife Rest, Dragonfly, rest!

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Dec 26, 2011

Dec 26, 2011 at 1:25 PM UTC

Fly, Dragonfly, fly! Spread your wings and flex your tail take off to the skies, follow the blowing winds! Leave behind the Wicked Men of Hollowing Trail and escape the poisons of their worded sins Fly, Dragonfly, fly! Race, Dragonfly, race! Sweep your wings back against the windy skies Let your heart propel your spirited sprint faster! Faster! Escape from the Forest of Unnerving Lies and the creatures of the Lost Souled ******** Race, Dragonfly, race! Hunt, Dragonfly, hunt! Beat your wings to the sounds of the butterflies Feed your hunger for protecting the meek with the haunting taste of Honey-Soaked Flies and the sting of Sugar-Coated Bees Hunt, Dragonfly, hunt! Rest, Dragonfly, rest! Allow the venom to still your beatful wings Let the swift death claim a Hero's life Beckon the Raven of Heaven to blissfully sing to the tune of the Stalking Sparrow's whistling knife Rest, Dragonfly, rest!

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you can either keep yourself up at night wondering "why me?" you can hide under your covers and tell everyone you're wrong and you'll never be right or you can see all this heartbreak pain conflict imperfection as an opportunity to emerge from the concealed depths to the gleaming luminescence and become stronger it is your choice to decide whether to drown in your troubles or to courageously survive because the harder the struggle the more spirited you become in the end "the deeper the mud the more beautiful the lotus blooms"

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May 10, 2013

May 10, 2013 at 12:39 PM UTC

the lotus flower

you can either keep yourself up at night wondering "why me?" you can hide under your covers and tell everyone you're wrong and you'll never be right or you can see all this heartbreak pain conflict imperfection as an opportunity to emerge from the concealed depths to the gleaming luminescence and become stronger it is your choice to decide whether to drown in your troubles or to courageously survive because the harder the struggle the more spirited you become in the end "the deeper the mud the more beautiful the lotus blooms"

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Loving me with my shoes off means loving my long brown legs, sweet dears, as good as spoons; and my feet, those two children let out to play naked. Intricate nubs, my toes. No longer bound. And what's more, see toenails and all ten stages, root by root. All spirited and wild, this little piggy went to market and this little piggy stayed. Long brown legs and long brown toes. Further up, my darling, the woman is calling her secrets, little houses, little tongues that tell you. There is no one else but us in this house on the land spit. The sea wears a bell in its navel. And I'm your barefoot ***** for a whole week. Do you care for salami? No. You'd rather not have a scotch? No. You don't really drink. You do drink me. The gulls **** fish, crying out like three-year-olds. The surf's a narcotic, calling out, I am, I am, I am all night long. Barefoot, I drum up and down your back. In the morning I run from door to door of the cabin playing chase me. Now you grab me by the ankles. Now you work your way up the legs and come to pierce me at my hunger mark

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Loving me with my shoes off means loving my long brown legs, sweet dears, as good as spoons; and my feet, those two children let out to play naked. Intricate nubs, my toes. No longer bound. And what's more, see toenails and all ten stages, root by root. All spirited and wild, this little piggy went to market and this little piggy stayed. Long brown legs and long brown toes. Further up, my darling, the woman is calling her secrets, little houses, little tongues that tell you. There is no one else but us in this house on the land spit. The sea wears a bell in its navel. And I'm your barefoot ***** for a whole week. Do you care for salami? No. You'd rather not have a scotch? No. You don't really drink. You do drink me. The gulls **** fish, crying out like three-year-olds. The surf's a narcotic, calling out, I am, I am, I am all night long. Barefoot, I drum up and down your back. In the morning I run from door to door of the cabin playing chase me. Now you grab me by the ankles. Now you work your way up the legs and come to pierce me at my hunger mark

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He's broken spirited just look into his eyes and see.

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Aug 10, 2014

Aug 10, 2014 at 11:48 AM UTC

He's broken spirited just look into his eyes and see.

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can you see Pride’s face? can you see the pride in Pride’s face? boastful & frivolous. Pride’s intentions are not of good will. Pride just destroyed a home. Pride just stabbed a friend in the back. Pride ended a life-long friendship. Pride just ended a simple argument. he is a disease. humans are afraid of him. can you see the pride in pride’s face? can you see the bad he creates? can you see all the lives he took? Pride is a crook. he breaks into the windows of your spirit and steals all the gold. that gold is your happiness. Pride is a weapon. anything in his way is destroyed. Pride doesn’t have emotions. Pride can make you insane. but Pride has an enemy. Pride has a cure. Humility. Humility is Pride’s balance. Humility can heal wounds. he is spirited & can bring people together. Humility is a weapon, a weapon of peace. he is a conqueror. Humility is Pride’s balance. can you see Humility’s face? can you feel Humility’s embrace? when are we starting to be humble? when are gon’ respect each other? can you see the pride in Pride’s face? Pride cares about no one but himself. Humility cares for everyone & himself. Teddy Bear Tribe.

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Oct 29, 2013

Oct 29, 2013 at 12:17 PM UTC

Can You See Pride's Face?

can you see Pride’s face? can you see the pride in Pride’s face? boastful & frivolous. Pride’s intentions are not of good will. Pride just destroyed a home. Pride just stabbed a friend in the back. Pride ended a life-long friendship. Pride just ended a simple argument. he is a disease. humans are afraid of him. can you see the pride in pride’s face? can you see the bad he creates? can you see all the lives he took? Pride is a crook. he breaks into the windows of your spirit and steals all the gold. that gold is your happiness. Pride is a weapon. anything in his way is destroyed. Pride doesn’t have emotions. Pride can make you insane. but Pride has an enemy. Pride has a cure. Humility. Humility is Pride’s balance. Humility can heal wounds. he is spirited & can bring people together. Humility is a weapon, a weapon of peace. he is a conqueror. Humility is Pride’s balance. can you see Humility’s face? can you feel Humility’s embrace? when are we starting to be humble? when are gon’ respect each other? can you see the pride in Pride’s face? Pride cares about no one but himself. Humility cares for everyone & himself. Teddy Bear Tribe.

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up in the high country the wild horses run free they've done so for nigh on a century not a saddle upon their backs enabling them to gallop unchecked around its tract in the Guy Fawkes National park there is a harass of them trotting through its blue hued wends their days are numbered in the park park authorities want end to their spirited lark up in the high country the wild horses run free they've done so for nigh on a century not a saddle upon their backs enabling them to gallop unchecked around its tract to sight the wild horses in full cantering step is exhilarating and fills one's heart with miles of pep their hooves thundering and pelting along to the wind's strong liberating throng up in the high country the wild horses run free they've done so for nigh on a century not a saddle upon their backs enabling them to gallop unchecked around its tract down the steep ravines and o'er the hills they stride without the reins of a man holding their ranging pride the wild horses have need of open lands to caper and pace they are a breed which must be allowed to freely race up in the high country the wild horses run free they've done so for nigh on a century not a saddle upon their backs enabling them to gallop unchecked around its tract

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Oct 6, 2013

Oct 6, 2013 at 9:10 PM UTC

ElizabethSquires

Wild Horses (Ballad Poem)

up in the high country the wild horses run free they've done so for nigh on a century not a saddle upon their backs enabling them to gallop unchecked around its tract in the Guy Fawkes National park there is a harass of them trotting through its blue hued wends their days are numbered in the park park authorities want end to their spirited lark up in the high country the wild horses run free they've done so for nigh on a century not a saddle upon their backs enabling them to gallop unchecked around its tract to sight the wild horses in full cantering step is exhilarating and fills one's heart with miles of pep their hooves thundering and pelting along to the wind's strong liberating throng up in the high country the wild horses run free they've done so for nigh on a century not a saddle upon their backs enabling them to gallop unchecked around its tract down the steep ravines and o'er the hills they stride without the reins of a man holding their ranging pride the wild horses have need of open lands to caper and pace they are a breed which must be allowed to freely race up in the high country the wild horses run free they've done so for nigh on a century not a saddle upon their backs enabling them to gallop unchecked around its tract

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Imperialistic meddlers, men of power greed and wealth Western Imperialism not too long ago was once put on the shelf Not too long ago this name was never heard Its name is New Order of DiSoRdEr But still us folk of sanity with eyes wide open we see their compliance lock-step herd vanity In White House spin gone amuck they throw their bolts of anger to all countries on the globe And with more and more displeasure we witness their destructiveness from sea to shining sea But now I hear, see and feel a distant faint rumbling the rising Valorous the rumbling stampeding of democracy by the forceful rightful anger, the free-spirited valiant word a word of truth and dignity, the echo of today, and aaah yes to hear the thundering of the mass To hear the thundering of the mass...

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Sep 18, 2014

Sep 18, 2014 at 5:35 PM UTC

To hear the thundering of the Mass

Imperialistic meddlers, men of power greed and wealth Western Imperialism not too long ago was once put on the shelf Not too long ago this name was never heard Its name is New Order of DiSoRdEr But still us folk of sanity with eyes wide open we see their compliance lock-step herd vanity In White House spin gone amuck they throw their bolts of anger to all countries on the globe And with more and more displeasure we witness their destructiveness from sea to shining sea But now I hear, see and feel a distant faint rumbling the rising Valorous the rumbling stampeding of democracy by the forceful rightful anger, the free-spirited valiant word a word of truth and dignity, the echo of today, and aaah yes to hear the thundering of the mass To hear the thundering of the mass...

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the Cambridge ladies who live in furnished souls are unbeautiful and have comfortable minds (also,with the church’s protestant blessings daughters,unscented shapeless spirited) they believe in Christ and Longfellow,both dead, are invariably interested in so many things— at the present writing one still finds delighted fingers knitting for the is it Poles? perhaps. While permanent faces coyly bandy scandal of Mrs. N and Professor D ….the Cambridge ladies do not care, above Cambridge if sometimes in its box of sky lavender and cornerless,the moon rattles like a fragment of angry candy

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The Cambridge Ladies Who Live In Furnished Souls

the Cambridge ladies who live in furnished souls are unbeautiful and have comfortable minds (also,with the church’s protestant blessings daughters,unscented shapeless spirited) they believe in Christ and Longfellow,both dead, are invariably interested in so many things— at the present writing one still finds delighted fingers knitting for the is it Poles? perhaps. While permanent faces coyly bandy scandal of Mrs. N and Professor D ….the Cambridge ladies do not care, above Cambridge if sometimes in its box of sky lavender and cornerless,the moon rattles like a fragment of angry candy

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The invisible scar Of the patriarchy Hangs over us Masked by the shadows of tradition Concealed within Dazzling bursts of color Billowing skirts And spirited dancing Hot acid flung Scathing, searing, scalding Because weak men Cannot handle rejection Wed the one you love And bring shame Upon the family Honor killings Does ****** Bring Dignity? #JusticeforNirbhaya #JusticeforAsifa And now #JusticeforAiman Our only crime Is being female Yet fingers are still pointed At us At the length of our dresses At the makeup on our faces At the way we smiled How long Until we are finally fed up With a society That would rather A corpse Over a girl?

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May 19, 2019

May 19, 2019 at 12:07 PM UTC

The invisible scar Of the patriarchy Hangs over us Masked by the shadows of tradition Concealed within Dazzling bursts of color Billowing skirts And spirited dancing Hot acid flung Scathing, searing, scalding Because weak men Cannot handle rejection Wed the one you love And bring shame Upon the family Honor killings Does ****** Bring Dignity? #JusticeforNirbhaya #JusticeforAsifa And now #JusticeforAiman Our only crime Is being female Yet fingers are still pointed At us At the length of our dresses At the makeup on our faces At the way we smiled How long Until we are finally fed up With a society That would rather A corpse Over a girl?

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I have the tenacity of Aries, and always live in my head with the insatiable appetites of Taurus; **** do I love bread I behold the powers of Gemini to be another person instead and I’m such a Cancer on those days I’d just rather stay at home in bed I have the heart of the lion like a proud Leo; mess with my loved ones and you’ll surely be dead! I can be anxious like a Virgo; disarray is something I quite dread and like a Libra I’m a romantic; though from many a lover I have fled I’m intense like a Scorpio, **** me off and lightly you must tread… like a fiery Sagittarius, my passion for life, it burns red! The sun was in Capricorn when I was born; the sign of a lone wolf, no more about that need be said Progressive and free spirited like Aquarius, for this I refuse to ever wed and I've been known to be sensitive like a Pisces; oh the tears I have shed… Together these archetypes make up who I am, thread by thread… I am the Zodiac, right down to every drop of blood bled.

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Dec 22, 2015

Dec 22, 2015 at 2:47 PM UTC

keep-it-ethereal

I am the Zodiac

I have the tenacity of Aries, and always live in my head with the insatiable appetites of Taurus; **** do I love bread I behold the powers of Gemini to be another person instead and I’m such a Cancer on those days I’d just rather stay at home in bed I have the heart of the lion like a proud Leo; mess with my loved ones and you’ll surely be dead! I can be anxious like a Virgo; disarray is something I quite dread and like a Libra I’m a romantic; though from many a lover I have fled I’m intense like a Scorpio, **** me off and lightly you must tread… like a fiery Sagittarius, my passion for life, it burns red! The sun was in Capricorn when I was born; the sign of a lone wolf, no more about that need be said Progressive and free spirited like Aquarius, for this I refuse to ever wed and I've been known to be sensitive like a Pisces; oh the tears I have shed… Together these archetypes make up who I am, thread by thread… I am the Zodiac, right down to every drop of blood bled.

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# *Souls embroidered with sweet sighs of passion Musing of nights in lace & white satin On a vista of flesh, flushed with desire Riding the flames on a passage of fire The beating of drums, commanding the night To the rhythm of hearts, passion ignites Wrapped in immortal flames of the sun Burning together, two become one Flesh upon flesh, a spirited dance Welded by whispers of love, of romance Temperatures rise in a fever of lust Stoking the flames, ****** after ****** Riding the swell, in a race to the shore Try to repress, but needing it more Virtue be ****** in the rage of desire Flames rise in hunger, higher n' higher Charging the crest, temperance slips Drawing the reins in a white knuckle grip Crashing of waves unleashes the flood Quaking the heart, and searing the blood Spewing of flames in the crash of the tide In a warm sheen of sweat, fervor subsides Energy spent in the throes of release Collapsing together, the story complete* #

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Aug 20, 2018

Aug 20, 2018 at 7:48 AM UTC

In Lace & White Satin

# *Souls embroidered with sweet sighs of passion Musing of nights in lace & white satin On a vista of flesh, flushed with desire Riding the flames on a passage of fire The beating of drums, commanding the night To the rhythm of hearts, passion ignites Wrapped in immortal flames of the sun Burning together, two become one Flesh upon flesh, a spirited dance Welded by whispers of love, of romance Temperatures rise in a fever of lust Stoking the flames, ****** after ****** Riding the swell, in a race to the shore Try to repress, but needing it more Virtue be ****** in the rage of desire Flames rise in hunger, higher n' higher Charging the crest, temperance slips Drawing the reins in a white knuckle grip Crashing of waves unleashes the flood Quaking the heart, and searing the blood Spewing of flames in the crash of the tide In a warm sheen of sweat, fervor subsides Energy spent in the throes of release Collapsing together, the story complete* #

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We Two are One: Remember when Long time before You tried to catch your heels Flying solo bound Remember who crept in the darkness of your room and played upon your heart such beautiful sounds Remember the childhood wonder and forgotten dreams of sleeping rainbows Whilst mother earth blows stolen ****** kisses leave dancing shadows to find their way Onto the crisp breath's upon the lips of such youthful lovers and time stands still for a moment And loves air is fresh to inhale Remember you are the enormous tide that extends your mark upon this world. The grace of spirited waves, tossed and turned by timid sprays Enlightened by the suns rays In spirit and fortitude: Solitude awaits you no more Welcome the deluge and purity This elixir of life, Behold! For if loves cool waters are united, rippled every wave would be paved in gold Exhale the release Inhale the vision among us Grow and evolve just as the rivers flow Embrace love together and reflect nature's gazes For you are each others sleeping rainbow Do not forget your united destiny. You were meant to fly as in your dreams. Only higher. And together. Forever. Amen.

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Nov 5, 2012

Nov 5, 2012 at 7:11 AM UTC

The Lovers Prayer

We Two are One: Remember when Long time before You tried to catch your heels Flying solo bound Remember who crept in the darkness of your room and played upon your heart such beautiful sounds Remember the childhood wonder and forgotten dreams of sleeping rainbows Whilst mother earth blows stolen ****** kisses leave dancing shadows to find their way Onto the crisp breath's upon the lips of such youthful lovers and time stands still for a moment And loves air is fresh to inhale Remember you are the enormous tide that extends your mark upon this world. The grace of spirited waves, tossed and turned by timid sprays Enlightened by the suns rays In spirit and fortitude: Solitude awaits you no more Welcome the deluge and purity This elixir of life, Behold! For if loves cool waters are united, rippled every wave would be paved in gold Exhale the release Inhale the vision among us Grow and evolve just as the rivers flow Embrace love together and reflect nature's gazes For you are each others sleeping rainbow Do not forget your united destiny. You were meant to fly as in your dreams. Only higher. And together. Forever. Amen.

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Your father was raised in Panama. I can imagine him vividly... The floral silk shirt with velvety red cravat, tan leather loafers, waxed-to-perfection moustache, and a big cigar. It was the late sixties and he was beautiful. I've never seen a photo but I can tell by the way you talked about him. His joi de vivre oozed into your stories and I recognized it: the distilled essence of his elegance was passed to you, and you shared it with me. We met by our mutual attraction for showing off... I wanted to be treated like a delicate porcelain treasure - you wanted a plastic toy with the price tag of an heirloom. Twenty five years my senior and you still hadn't learned your lesson about girls like me... I may have broken your heart, but you should've known a tryst between the free-spirited edge of seventeen and a businessman with dreams of Panama would burn out in the end, just like your father's cigar.

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Jun 9, 2016

Jun 9, 2016 at 8:50 PM UTC

Your father was raised in Panama. I can imagine him vividly... The floral silk shirt with velvety red cravat, tan leather loafers, waxed-to-perfection moustache, and a big cigar. It was the late sixties and he was beautiful. I've never seen a photo but I can tell by the way you talked about him. His joi de vivre oozed into your stories and I recognized it: the distilled essence of his elegance was passed to you, and you shared it with me. We met by our mutual attraction for showing off... I wanted to be treated like a delicate porcelain treasure - you wanted a plastic toy with the price tag of an heirloom. Twenty five years my senior and you still hadn't learned your lesson about girls like me... I may have broken your heart, but you should've known a tryst between the free-spirited edge of seventeen and a businessman with dreams of Panama would burn out in the end, just like your father's cigar.

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I am a mother to four beautiful children I always put them first I am not my disease I am hardworking One job at a time just isn’t enough I let nothing slow me down I am not my disease I am goofy I like attention and I do what it takes to get it I am not my disease I am high-spirited I walk with my family and friends by my side who love me because, I am not my disease I am faithful With God’s love I will never be powerless He alone is my reassurance that I am not my disease I am strong I will never lose sight of who I am I may have this disease but, I am not my disease

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Nov 8, 2016

Nov 8, 2016 at 12:33 PM UTC

I am not my illness

I am a mother to four beautiful children I always put them first I am not my disease I am hardworking One job at a time just isn’t enough I let nothing slow me down I am not my disease I am goofy I like attention and I do what it takes to get it I am not my disease I am high-spirited I walk with my family and friends by my side who love me because, I am not my disease I am faithful With God’s love I will never be powerless He alone is my reassurance that I am not my disease I am strong I will never lose sight of who I am I may have this disease but, I am not my disease

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They call it a 'Class War" They call it a "War of Liberation" whilst its just another instance of white oppression Childish, immature, mean and nasty underachievers like the kid on the beach who kicks over others sandcastle because they are better than the ******* castle he made Like that that uncool dumb teen who scatters the board game because he's now seen that he is losing and cannot win at all like those ugly pimpled friends who would play gooseberry and cock-blockers because they can't get nice dates of their own like that bitter mad one who will spill ink over your white top or new Trainers because he or she has old and ***** ones They are all from the world of the sicko psychos and damaged talent-less mean, envious, sad pathetic people going nowhere If I can't make it, why should others do and be winners They all graduate to the divisive politics of the ****** losers Power is stopping progress and advancement because they are down Power is bringing achievers and enterprise down they can's gain Power is sabotaging all that is good because they are bad in all Measly fetid minds they plot and conspire in gangrenous network dolts, scums, unwashed losers and rejects of society, bottom feeders Come join the Party, our specialty is chaos and disruption of winners The pathetic jokes of the white West, losers in their own backyards picks on an African who came from disadvantages to better them better educated, more intelligent, cool and stylish in every way pack full of potential, going places they can never go or reach Our sick, mean spirited under-achievers, expert losers and scums crawled on the war-path, riddled with envy, sick with jealousy ruin his progress, oppose and disrupt a black man who doubles efforts to achieve, what if losers try is given to them on a plate What here is done for the greater good, what here is honorable celebrated victories for psychos, racist underachievers I think not peoples power? more sick, tormented, jealous n envious chicanery anarchy jealousy, anarchy shame, anarchy racists, anarchy liars One Single Black achiever demonstrates the inherent strength and grace of our all our Ancestors against sick, persistent white oppression. That's the story here. If its a fair war, why hide and go underground, why fight *****

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May 17, 2019

May 17, 2019 at 7:40 AM UTC

They glorify sick sadistic oppression...

They call it a 'Class War" They call it a "War of Liberation" whilst its just another instance of white oppression Childish, immature, mean and nasty underachievers like the kid on the beach who kicks over others sandcastle because they are better than the ******* castle he made Like that that uncool dumb teen who scatters the board game because he's now seen that he is losing and cannot win at all like those ugly pimpled friends who would play gooseberry and cock-blockers because they can't get nice dates of their own like that bitter mad one who will spill ink over your white top or new Trainers because he or she has old and ***** ones They are all from the world of the sicko psychos and damaged talent-less mean, envious, sad pathetic people going nowhere If I can't make it, why should others do and be winners They all graduate to the divisive politics of the ****** losers Power is stopping progress and advancement because they are down Power is bringing achievers and enterprise down they can's gain Power is sabotaging all that is good because they are bad in all Measly fetid minds they plot and conspire in gangrenous network dolts, scums, unwashed losers and rejects of society, bottom feeders Come join the Party, our specialty is chaos and disruption of winners The pathetic jokes of the white West, losers in their own backyards picks on an African who came from disadvantages to better them better educated, more intelligent, cool and stylish in every way pack full of potential, going places they can never go or reach Our sick, mean spirited under-achievers, expert losers and scums crawled on the war-path, riddled with envy, sick with jealousy ruin his progress, oppose and disrupt a black man who doubles efforts to achieve, what if losers try is given to them on a plate What here is done for the greater good, what here is honorable celebrated victories for psychos, racist underachievers I think not peoples power? more sick, tormented, jealous n envious chicanery anarchy jealousy, anarchy shame, anarchy racists, anarchy liars One Single Black achiever demonstrates the inherent strength and grace of our all our Ancestors against sick, persistent white oppression. That's the story here. If its a fair war, why hide and go underground, why fight *****

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*Devoured by the intensity, words that quench the soul an enchanting intoxication - - like a spirited ****** whetting a voracious thirst, plunging in for another swallow of adoration's satiated ******

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Aug 2, 2015

Aug 2, 2015 at 3:06 PM UTC

poetessa-diabolical

Voracious Thirst

*Devoured by the intensity, words that quench the soul an enchanting intoxication - - like a spirited ****** whetting a voracious thirst, plunging in for another swallow of adoration's satiated ******

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F M Agender Androgyne Androgynous Bigender Cis Cisgender Cisgender female Cisgender male FTM Gender fluid Gender non-confirming Gender questioning Gender variant Gender queer Intersex MTF Neither Neurosis Non binary Other Pan gender Trans Trans* Trans female Trans* female Trans male Trans* male Trans feminine Trans musculine Transgender Transgender female Transgender male Transgender musculine Transgender feminine *********** *********** female *********** male Two spirit And "Turquoise green tertiary spirited Eskimo"

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Nov 15, 2017

Nov 15, 2017 at 6:33 AM UTC

F M Agender Androgyne Androgynous Bigender Cis Cisgender Cisgender female Cisgender male FTM Gender fluid Gender non-confirming Gender questioning Gender variant Gender queer Intersex MTF Neither Neurosis Non binary Other Pan gender Trans Trans* Trans female Trans* female Trans male Trans* male Trans feminine Trans musculine Transgender Transgender female Transgender male Transgender musculine Transgender feminine *********** *********** female *********** male Two spirit And "Turquoise green tertiary spirited Eskimo"

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She has fought through illness and heart pain. She has seen tragedies, time and again. She risked her own life so I could be born. Not listening to the doctors who said to abort. She has stood through life's trials, and has come out stronger. She is my Mother, the Fighter. She has questioned God. But her faith has not faltered. She has placed herself in His hands, for however long He gives her. She is my Mother, the Fighter. She is gentle-spirited, yet a warrior. She is quiet, yet bold. She is my Mother, the Fighter. And she is still fighting. She has endured long. And continues to endure. Whatever comes. Her story will be told. To future generations. I will tell her story. Her legacy of faith. For I am her daughter, and I love her. She is my Mother, the Fighter. With her Faithful God behind her.

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May 7, 2016

May 7, 2016 at 11:58 PM UTC

elizabeth-gaye-trondsen

My Mother, The Fighter

She has fought through illness and heart pain. She has seen tragedies, time and again. She risked her own life so I could be born. Not listening to the doctors who said to abort. She has stood through life's trials, and has come out stronger. She is my Mother, the Fighter. She has questioned God. But her faith has not faltered. She has placed herself in His hands, for however long He gives her. She is my Mother, the Fighter. She is gentle-spirited, yet a warrior. She is quiet, yet bold. She is my Mother, the Fighter. And she is still fighting. She has endured long. And continues to endure. Whatever comes. Her story will be told. To future generations. I will tell her story. Her legacy of faith. For I am her daughter, and I love her. She is my Mother, the Fighter. With her Faithful God behind her.

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The final words deeply Rooted well spirited from top To the wishing well bottom She writes-- on-- the-- top-line Real flower takes action The Spring Mom affection Dark- Shades She's the brightest Star- Poppy make it snappy Fire red Floppy disk Movie flick favorite flower Take a risk perfect pick Your heart sunglasses got baked With Moms baking flour She couldn't see the sun Light years away Words sound alike look at the what! blue skies just pray we are rooted like a gifted flower That never dies Star Eyes** enter The flowers frame mirror "Sunflower Face" * * * Words sprout like "Mr. and Misses" The ceremony Oh! Honey what's your point..... Red so vibrant laughing Loretta Crying operetta baby birth flower Rudolph running nose red Homesick cough water spell chamomile flower bed Light up Holiday wed "Poinsettia" she's tough Bloom- make room Show Biz flower "Cafe Vienna" Curtain call sprinkle me Sunflower voice heal me Daisies lion- roar- free The fresh-cut dandelion Sunflower hats bow "Kentucky Derby" I reckon Flower words I beg your pardon Did I ever promise you the rose garden? Last curtain call divine sunflower

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Dec 21, 2019

Dec 21, 2019 at 1:04 PM UTC

Curtain Call Sunflower

The final words deeply Rooted well spirited from top To the wishing well bottom She writes-- on-- the-- top-line Real flower takes action The Spring Mom affection Dark- Shades She's the brightest Star- Poppy make it snappy Fire red Floppy disk Movie flick favorite flower Take a risk perfect pick Your heart sunglasses got baked With Moms baking flour She couldn't see the sun Light years away Words sound alike look at the what! blue skies just pray we are rooted like a gifted flower That never dies Star Eyes** enter The flowers frame mirror "Sunflower Face" * * * Words sprout like "Mr. and Misses" The ceremony Oh! Honey what's your point..... Red so vibrant laughing Loretta Crying operetta baby birth flower Rudolph running nose red Homesick cough water spell chamomile flower bed Light up Holiday wed "Poinsettia" she's tough Bloom- make room Show Biz flower "Cafe Vienna" Curtain call sprinkle me Sunflower voice heal me Daisies lion- roar- free The fresh-cut dandelion Sunflower hats bow "Kentucky Derby" I reckon Flower words I beg your pardon Did I ever promise you the rose garden? Last curtain call divine sunflower

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*Venturing out Into the woods. Everything behind her Is in Black and white - Grey, but with a hope-filled Blue sky. Her red butterfly Carries her transformed ideals Within - it's always hovering close-by. With every forward step, Away from this manipulated painful reality, The scenery is painted, Bringing it all to life - A rainforest green; Her sacred canopy. Vivid, Ever so bright, Be it, by day, Or, be it, by night. Black and white do not exist On this side of her world - There's no grey! Here, even shadows embrace The blessed, illuminated, Brilliant, pure light. Doom, Gloom, And dullness, Instantaneously banished! Momentously replaced by An addictive, elated state of vitality - A miraculous invisible substance; She embraces her newfound sanity! Insanity just vanished! Her aura Paints her surroundings, They are so alive - In high definition, in full colour. There are no toxins here, No sorrow, Nothing is needed, Time stands still - No need to borrow. All of the brokenness Is left behind, She wanders off! - Her soul Free to unwind. Here, she has no fear of heights - There is a sacred comfort In all that is phenomenally high, And so, In all that grows, From deep down Below. She inhales purity Into her lungs, She exhales All of her noxious emotions, She sighs with relief, As she lets them all go. Sinking her feet Into the rich ground, Each footstep brings her closer To the edge of her world; This is where she is often found. Here, she is free... She asks herself "To stay, or to go?" The answer, she already knows, The soft breeze carries This wanderlust decision away, As the free-spirited wind Gently blows. By Lady R.F ©2016*

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Nov 24, 2016

Nov 24, 2016 at 3:11 AM UTC

Where The Forest Meets The Sea

*Venturing out Into the woods. Everything behind her Is in Black and white - Grey, but with a hope-filled Blue sky. Her red butterfly Carries her transformed ideals Within - it's always hovering close-by. With every forward step, Away from this manipulated painful reality, The scenery is painted, Bringing it all to life - A rainforest green; Her sacred canopy. Vivid, Ever so bright, Be it, by day, Or, be it, by night. Black and white do not exist On this side of her world - There's no grey! Here, even shadows embrace The blessed, illuminated, Brilliant, pure light. Doom, Gloom, And dullness, Instantaneously banished! Momentously replaced by An addictive, elated state of vitality - A miraculous invisible substance; She embraces her newfound sanity! Insanity just vanished! Her aura Paints her surroundings, They are so alive - In high definition, in full colour. There are no toxins here, No sorrow, Nothing is needed, Time stands still - No need to borrow. All of the brokenness Is left behind, She wanders off! - Her soul Free to unwind. Here, she has no fear of heights - There is a sacred comfort In all that is phenomenally high, And so, In all that grows, From deep down Below. She inhales purity Into her lungs, She exhales All of her noxious emotions, She sighs with relief, As she lets them all go. Sinking her feet Into the rich ground, Each footstep brings her closer To the edge of her world; This is where she is often found. Here, she is free... She asks herself "To stay, or to go?" The answer, she already knows, The soft breeze carries This wanderlust decision away, As the free-spirited wind Gently blows. By Lady R.F ©2016*

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Overdose on love could be enough to **** the immortal mock the strong do wrong on the good Overdose on love could be enough to impower the weak brighten up the low-spirited let the dead live An overdose on love can be a cure or a poison Which one will it be?

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Nov 3, 2015

Nov 3, 2015 at 7:14 PM UTC

Overdose on love could be enough to **** the immortal mock the strong do wrong on the good Overdose on love could be enough to impower the weak brighten up the low-spirited let the dead live An overdose on love can be a cure or a poison Which one will it be?

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I keep finding peaches Peaches I don't think it's possible to not smile when you say the word they turn my cheeks the same color as their skin it makes me grin and laugh to see them sunbathing on the banister lining the window sills like shining trophies on my porch like children climbing to Set upon the tallest object They can find beaming as children do Maybe it's cuz I grew up in the south Knowing you have to set them out And wait for them to be soft to the touch let them ripen in the Sun so you can then pick your fruit that up until now has been forbidden it's like a little fuzzy ball of gold Sunshine warming your face and your mouth I love the word peaches maybe it's the memory, the name, Peaches “chin up, peaches” it carrie's such an innocence such a light-hearted, free-spirited happiness. something warm and welcoming and something I could only find at home maybe it's the breakfast peaches and cream three ingredients so happy, so creamy, so sweet, smooth, summary, comforting it's what my grandma would give me so sugary, yet so filling it reminds me of her it tastes how she act it is her hyperbole peaches and cream is a grandmother it's as sweet as her voice as comforting as her touch as filling as her hug and as smooth as her skin. maybe it's all three either way this time of Peach field windowsills will come again next year and the year after that and the year after that until I am the grandmother they represent and every year, I will smile.

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Oct 14, 2017

Oct 14, 2017 at 11:41 PM UTC

I keep finding peaches Peaches I don't think it's possible to not smile when you say the word they turn my cheeks the same color as their skin it makes me grin and laugh to see them sunbathing on the banister lining the window sills like shining trophies on my porch like children climbing to Set upon the tallest object They can find beaming as children do Maybe it's cuz I grew up in the south Knowing you have to set them out And wait for them to be soft to the touch let them ripen in the Sun so you can then pick your fruit that up until now has been forbidden it's like a little fuzzy ball of gold Sunshine warming your face and your mouth I love the word peaches maybe it's the memory, the name, Peaches “chin up, peaches” it carrie's such an innocence such a light-hearted, free-spirited happiness. something warm and welcoming and something I could only find at home maybe it's the breakfast peaches and cream three ingredients so happy, so creamy, so sweet, smooth, summary, comforting it's what my grandma would give me so sugary, yet so filling it reminds me of her it tastes how she act it is her hyperbole peaches and cream is a grandmother it's as sweet as her voice as comforting as her touch as filling as her hug and as smooth as her skin. maybe it's all three either way this time of Peach field windowsills will come again next year and the year after that and the year after that until I am the grandmother they represent and every year, I will smile.

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*Hungered for a taste of your elixir's essence, drunken inhalations of your poetry a splendiferous whirl of time & space 'tween darkly scented moons and sun's adoration, blithe starry nights amidst meditative new dawn's effervesce, spirited of the heart, gleaned in the soul, yearnings of another chapter's paradise universal experiences etched of hourglass sand, written upon endlessly chimerical verses wildflower gardens drenched of dandelion's plum wine swooning under a hypnotic scripted spell, intoxicating power of unchained symphonies dancing amongst skies' released euphoria resonating in a song's reprised melodies, breathlessness of delirium's celestial pauses in vaporous breezes' unfurling undulation, captivated by rhythmic destiny reverberating in loins' pleasurable calling quenched of sacred offering's quell transcending earthly persuasions' rhyme, let me lick the nectar from your poesy's insatiable lips, sweet mercy's healing captured in rapturous surrender's reawakening ~* *Je veux que vous tous, tu me manques* Ce que vous manquez de moi?

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Jul 4, 2015

Jul 4, 2015 at 12:05 AM UTC

poetessa-diabolical

Je te veux (sensual)

*Hungered for a taste of your elixir's essence, drunken inhalations of your poetry a splendiferous whirl of time & space 'tween darkly scented moons and sun's adoration, blithe starry nights amidst meditative new dawn's effervesce, spirited of the heart, gleaned in the soul, yearnings of another chapter's paradise universal experiences etched of hourglass sand, written upon endlessly chimerical verses wildflower gardens drenched of dandelion's plum wine swooning under a hypnotic scripted spell, intoxicating power of unchained symphonies dancing amongst skies' released euphoria resonating in a song's reprised melodies, breathlessness of delirium's celestial pauses in vaporous breezes' unfurling undulation, captivated by rhythmic destiny reverberating in loins' pleasurable calling quenched of sacred offering's quell transcending earthly persuasions' rhyme, let me lick the nectar from your poesy's insatiable lips, sweet mercy's healing captured in rapturous surrender's reawakening ~* *Je veux que vous tous, tu me manques* Ce que vous manquez de moi?

Continue reading...