"steeling" poems
the girls had been chattering and laughing in the dining room when suddenly nan, zoey, and madison charged in the room. making everyone stop and look at them. "Alright ******* Madison stood with her arms crossed and an enraged look in her dark brown eyes. "who the **** stole my money???" she questioned. the girls just sat there and looked at her quietly. "okay, none of you broke *** hos want to fess up? you're ballsy enough to take my **** but you're not ballsy enough to stand up to me? i see" Madison shouted. sadness and hostility in her eyes and voice.
"who took Madisons money? i wanna know right now!" Cassie stood up in anger. quickly rushing to Madisons aid. Madison nudged her alittle and rolled her eyes. Cassie folded her arms, mimicking exactly what Madison had been doing. "BROKE *** HOESSSS!" Cassie screamed, pointing at all the girls. Pyper rolled her big blue eyes and flipped her long crimson red hair laughing, "nobody stole your money you idiot, you probably just misplaced it." she laughed, fearlessly looking madison straight in the eyes. which made nan look at pyper very suspiciously as she read her mind. "hold my earrings please." Madison began to put her hair up in a bun. "what is going on in here?" Cordelia stormed in the room with her arms folded. "put your shoes on Madison." Cordelia looked at Madison in confusion. "nothing, Madisons spazing out because she thinks that someone took her money. and now she's getting all 'ghetto' and bent out of shape about it. taking her payless heels off like she's actually going to do something." pyper rolled her eyes and joked, making the rest of the girls laugh aswell. "payless? i only wear chanel." Madison flipped her hair. Nan looked Pyper in the eyes suspiciously, shaking her head from side to side. "i'm going to say this once and once only." cordelia shouted. "i will not have any fighting or steeling in this house. and if anyone is caught fighting or steeling, you will be expelled. it's a big bad world out there girls, up until now you've all lived very sheltered lives and i'd hate to send you out in it to fend for yourselves." Cordelia sighed. pyper got a very sad look in her eyes. "sheltered" she snickered, "right."
Nan looked at pyper sadly, still reading her mind.
"what are you looking at?" Pyper shouted at nan viciously.
"i'm not sure yet." Nan replied curiously.
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 1:14 PM UTC
related to childhood emotional abuse or neglect...
not to be confused with derealization or 'fantasy prone personality'
maladaptive daydreaming is seeing your face when I fall asleep at night
or hearing your voice in a children's store
"Come look! Look at these shoes!", and seeing you scramble at a pair of sandals
Big brown eyes begging me to buy them as "an early birthday present, just this once."
Maladaptive daydreaming
is blinking and not even having time to register the fact that you'd disappeared
and I was standing alone in the children's shoe aisle,
on my knees holding a pair of sandals
and feeling that same twist in my gut that I did on the day
the papers were signed and my passport was stamped,
to get on a plane to another country
without so much as waving goodbye
Maladaptive daydreaming is crying through anti-abortion rhetoric
and sympathising with teenage mothers
it's seeing you smile behind a nikon camera, calling
"Look at this pretty picture I took! See, see?"
and then realising that I was only smiling at a fallen camera in the sand
Maladaptive daydreaming
is regretting a choice I didn't make
it's steeling my jaw at immature jokes
and relating to all those children raising children
Maladaptive daydreaming
is regretting giving up a daughter
I never had
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 1:17 AM UTC
It was hard to miss Jerry
in the corner
holding court
over the bran muffin.
Flurries of judgement and wisdom
flying across coffee dappled pages
as he sentenced a large cup of
Paruvian Dark Roast
to be ******
7 am Dan never flinched
steeling his tenured chair at
a spot one section of stir sticks away
calculably just out of reach
of the regularly scheduled tantrum.
An auburn-haired newbie
fanes camoflage
peeking over two pages of Obituaries
she never intended to read.
Her raised and nearly detached eyebrows
hover above the dateline like a magic trick.
And on every table fall
scattered leaves
of press print trees
unsorted and littered with intent
by careless absorbers of trivia.
Disconnected
ear-budded
footnotes of humanity
see nothing
hear nothing
using the disarrayed World News as
enormous coasters
unmoved by hyper-ventilating compulsives
pushing panic buttons through
desperate quests to uncover
one alphabetically organized set
of local news.
Of the papers not strewn
the remnant holds anxious
on a distant wall
a throng of flopping
rabbit-eared
step children
dangling precariously
from unaccomodating magazine racks
like smoky orphans from
windows in a fiery building.
Disordered.
Disrespected.
Discarded...words are
Jews in the holocaust.
Death of a voice.
We are irreverent in our silence
diminishing genius through apathy
put off by the imposition to be challenged
choosing disposable principles
above responsible knowledge.
Everything is disposable - cameras, cars,
relationships, loyalty, babies...and wisdom -
crumpling Pulitzer prize authors
and discarding WW2 veterans
just to get to the cartoons.
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 11:15 PM UTC
I am waiting for this daydream
To fizzle out, die
For him to finally prove
This relationship is just a lie.
That everyone else's words are right
This ice is too thin
I must be crazy if I trust
And waste time with him.
I will only end up getting hurt
I know what's at stake
I'm telling you from the start
It is a chance I'm willing to take.
I might be a fool but I am
Ready for what turmoil may come
I am steeling my heart for the moment
When everything good comes undone.
I do not need your "wisdom"
Your bias and bitter advice
If he breaks me to pieces
You are not the ones who'll pay the price.
You do not understand my world
And to you I will not explain
I'm going to leave it at this
My happiness is worth the risk of pain.
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 5:15 AM UTC
There is a Year part from which is assigned
Asides from your Truce to cover and rest
Till then, your Crafted Show to Fame consigned
My Girl's Centenniary will look its Best
This I Pledge, by the added Fifty-Four,
Honouring the Godfather I borrowed
If still, no Sound, least Assignment for more
Shall I conclude all my Efforts sorrowed
By then, to see and calculate for once
Despite I embrace this Familiar Ghost
This Truth - to Drill my steeling nerves upon
And cross-hair your Freedom which mattered most.
By that time, I should look for Someone else
Though in my Conscience I cast the same Spell.
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 5:12 AM UTC
i hate you for the scars you've left,
steeling my piece of mind,
i hate your ignorance, and your
weakness.
you're so selfish, cruel and blind.
i hate your judgements,
and your ego.
your so predictable, shallow and hollow.
and you hate me because im nothing like you,
but u cant steel my light,
because i figure that if you hate me,
i' must be doing something right
Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 6:24 PM UTC
Not all can be lost in the midst of so much.
Not all can be lost in the thought of your touch,
And the sound of your sighs, the indescribable look
With brightening eyes and the patience it took.
Perhaps I have given you no more than you deserve,
And still what do I possess that was more than your words?
Hold me; hold me now like you did before,
Before the disillusionment before love swayed to war.
Call to me tell me my name, so I can answer
And you can know that I came. My love
I only want to feel safe with my heart in your hands.
I only want to be close enough to feel you from where I stand.
I remember candle light and sharing souls I remember long
Stairs into starlit eyes and bearing the scares we wore
Compared to recent wounds. Hush now it rains,
When your eyes mist over my old pains ache,
Like my wrist and my heart in my chest,
You are all of the things I've grown to like best.
So you lied and I feel you steeling my perception of us,
Slowly returning head down with my mad mangled trust.
As the ground shook I felt it all lost.
I know that’s not true, I know that I must
Know something of who you are,
You’re the same sweet handsome boy,
Who first made me see stars.
And a brand new mark among the scars on my heart.
Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 12:49 AM UTC
She had a perfume that smelled like jasmine when she woke me up in the morning and like roses when she tucked me in at night
It was the same perfume sprayed from the same bottle, but it smelled different every time I visited her
Her perfume translated her feelings into delicate smells … smells I will never be able to forget
The same perfume is still sprayed from the same bottle …
but now … it smells like fear
She no longer wears that perfume … “it makes me sad” she says …
It makes us all sad! …
Its drizzling droplets brushes against our senses awakening sedated memories …
Memories of …
Of grandpa’s happy eyes, warm embracing voice and tender sheltering hug … he was the kind of person whose presence can be felt from a distance. He would smile every time your eyes meet his as if he was noticing you for the very first time …
Of mother’s childhood dreams tucked carefully in her braided hair …
Of baby brother’s golden straight hair and wide curious brown eyes
Of our tiny apartment whose windows allowed light to enter only from her room … the burgundy colored velvet salon chairs neatly covered by off white sheets … the noisy fridge who made sure everyone noticed me steeling ice-cream at midnight …
Grandma’s perfume harbors our memories …
Its droplets carry away our happiness leaving us stinking of fear!
Dec 25, 2018
Dec 25, 2018 at 2:51 PM UTC
Wand'ring
Lost and alone
Through a dense and murky wood
Far from familiar shores
A damp, deep weariness
Pervades my soul
As I search
For the tell-tale signs of passage
My quarry has evaded me thus far
The path weaving
Between the roots
Of ancient, gnarled oaks
I pause and wonder
At the futility of my quest
Might he have slipped from my grasp
For good and all
Ne'er to be seen again
I laugh derisively
The cynic rears its ugly head
I must keep up hope
Else why go on
Steeling myself
I begin to move once more
I turn my thoughts
To years past
And a wave of bitter nostalgia
Washes over me
I can almost hear the faint echo
Of their singing
The high pitched
Tra-la-la
As they went gaily on their way
I can hear his voice in the lead
See his blue skin
And white beard
A tear rolls down my cheek
I sink to my knees
I cry out
Papa Smurf!
Where are you?
But, alas, there is no reply
And so I journey on
In search of all I've lost
Knowing deep inside
That it can never be again.
Dec 6, 2010
Dec 6, 2010 at 11:23 AM UTC
This isn't your mother's dance.
The wooden clave
seduces the naive
into suave arms
of the night.
Quick quick slow
exalts wooden caderas
and untames silky locks.
Wrinkled hands
caress the caras
of clumsy coquetas.
In the name of the dance,
vestidos apretados
replace pants,
which men outgrow,
steeling blue eyes
in rusty miradas.
Mirandla.
*Mira la guera,
como se toca,
como se mueve,
comos se salta el vestido suyo.*
Mirandlo.
*Look at him,
how he touches me,
how he swings me,
how his feet mock me.*
Mirandnos
Ella me quiere.
We are JUST dancing.
Ayyy, como me pega.
We're close, but Salsa is intimate.
Oooh mami...
Does he think it's more than a dance?
quick quick slow,
quick quick slow,
quick quick slow,
quicK quiCK quICK qUICK QUICK...
...silence.
they shake hands,
and thank each other for the dance.
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 3:23 PM UTC
me grandad was a ******
he had an old ships gyroscope
that he would spin up
and set in the palm
of his open hand
dis ere has seen every dock
an point inbetween
dis world has to find
he would say
a mantra maybe
then he would sit it upon
the tip of my trembling
outstretched finger
holding my wrist
proving his point
steeling the tremble
balance in all things
he would say
to my mesmerised
widened whitened
crying out to be wisened eyes
and let go
balance
then he would set it atilt
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 10:41 PM UTC
Today my son
Is to be sentenced
To prison. He
Lives 23 hours a day
In a jail cell, he will move on
Steeling courage few of us
Ever have to experience.
Consider your luck.
His mental illness
never to be a crime.
Will there be light for a prism?
Where he can turn to
Other pathways
Less dark and Forge
Himself into the open
Blue sky and all the rainbows
From here on out.
On the outside we are blind
On the inside some
Are given true sight.
I cry for a rotten system
In mental health care
We own. You might
Want to pull up some buckets
For all mothers tears
Knowing the best we have
Is incarceration. How is that
America? Tired of blaming anyone but yourself?
Feb 5, 2024
Feb 5, 2024 at 9:35 AM UTC
I don't know whether I'm numb or accustomed to this feeling,
With time is it steeling?
What I should feel,
But then why shouldn't it steal,
This dreadful feeling,
That takes away from living,
But also takes away what I feel,
Should it continue to take the wheel?
Or ignore this feeling-once and for all,
Even tho I'm still affected by its call,
To ignite a fire in me,
That nobody can see,
Except for in my poetry,
Will I just let this feeling go,
To no longer feel that blow,
That ignites the flame,
And puts me to shame,
That feeling just always comes,
And me it almost always stuns,
Cause how could one get used to,
A feeling you feel abused to,
No matter what I choose-it'll always be present,
It's whether or not I chose to resent it,
And whether or not I feel it,
Is not always up to me,
You see,
It hurts me more than I'd like to admit...
....That **** jealousy...
Mar 8, 2015
Mar 8, 2015 at 11:13 PM UTC
I want to write you a poem
but maybe it wouldn't be good enough
I would write a song, but it'd come out wrong
and that *****
I wasn't sad, I was happy you gave me a chance. I wasn't upset because you just gave me my favorite dance.
I'd like to write your favorite poem. The one you read every night that helps keep from feeling broken. I want to be your favorite thief, that was amazing at steeling your eyes and attention. Because as I sit alone in my detentions all I can think about is a kiss on the cheek and how innocent are my intentions. Sorry, there I go, I was writing this and got the stutter. I guess even pretending gives me the shudders. It's so embarrassing the way I mutter under my breath that I'd love to be your favorite color. I'll be the red in the roses you love and you'll choose bright baby blue, but that's okay because we both knew I never had a chance with a beautiful girl like you. It was like jumping and expecting to never hit ground, and while it lasted you were so nice to be around. I just wanted to hug you and love you and bow down as I handed a beauty queen her rightful crown. Now, notice I said "love you", but I don't mean as a love her. Because I'm not in love, I don't know what love is. And you won't let me in enough for me to be a lover, but if you give me a pen and paper I'll give you one last favor. A kiss to your lips, because I'd **** to be your favorite flavor.
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 12:19 AM UTC
The Grace in her Smile... Let you feel the shyness melting in you...
The Gentleness in her eyes.... Keeps you wondering when she will hug you!...
The Voice tells you a story of Mystery!
Steeling those looks to look through her eyes...
Moving between faces to meet her face and give that smile...
She is the Fountain of feelings that you long for!
She is simply a true soul!
Oct 8, 2016
Oct 8, 2016 at 1:57 PM UTC
seeing
sealing
sewing
seeming
setting
seeding
seeking
seeping
selling
steeling
sleeting
slipping
slitting
slighting
soaping
soothing
spotting
speeding
sweeping
swapping
swimming
swearing
swelling
sleeping
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 6:06 PM UTC
I am an Anglo
Pondering the Indians again
I know we won that war
I recall my greedy ancestors
Exiled them to reservations
Out west for the rest
Of their history with white men
I find no joy in cruelty
Punishing vibrant people
Pushing them off their land
Just because they forgot
To get their deeds
Recorded at the courthouse
They owned it first
It was their real estate
And they had the right to hunt
These hills and vales
Forever in God's eyes
Until we drove them out
Steeling every vital acre
As we called them savages
So it would look all right
To abuse them and take
Their world from under them
We shoved them all
Along the trail of tears
And other paths
While the savages for real
Are the ancestors
Of the people
Whose faces we see
In our mirrors today.....
Sep 14, 2010
Sep 14, 2010 at 6:07 PM UTC
read his stuff
https://hellopoetry.com/r-2/
n.b. nowadays I write here only in praise of others,
as the rewards are far greater than any of the meager
stuff I got laying around.
a poem for his summer soul-stice
<>
self-confessed to the priest, we us, both, meeting
in the confess-urinal, wee needy for a solid projectile
purging, me, cause, I’m a plagiarist of inspiration
**** it every time a ce r tain poet writes,
its a sock to my multi faceted square sided~head,
discoloring my eye shadow, my maskara crazy running,
frustration, admiration, mortar and pestle pounded
into a white powder of unadulterated adultery with a
frothy topping of a jealousy muse laughing face, at me,
cappuccino made from bitter herbs and pink sea salt.
in eight lines the man accomplishes
what would take me eight, eight full
poems, even then, not coming close
still failing to retake his brevity skills,
his summer solstice way of seeing,
by keeping the dark away,
by inviting the dark in,
making it under duress,
spill the beans of his life’s
ironies, some hellish,
some not, all well kept,
in Georgia granite stoney face.
the softest steeling of words that irritates
me into a fine frenzy... what’s the use,
point made, in how he undresses
the eyes
into just outright gasping,
and that is the only
permissible comment emoji.
______________________
r
Her verse
I need to taste the salt
of her soliloquy
be drunk on the sobriety
of her verse
those words she writes
behind my eyelids
makes me want
to crawl inside her skin
and listen to her heartbeat.
Jun 23, 2020
Jun 23, 2020 at 8:22 AM UTC
The warmth of the sun
has faded
A memory
Stripped
by the cold
and callous wind
Grey and darkened skies
Bring ominous portent
Clouds gather
on high winds
With dark
and obvious intent
Black and malevolent
Seething,
roiling,
in the sky
We await it’s fury
Waiting
Waiting
Waiting
For the storm to break
Steeling
for it’s torrent
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 4:34 PM UTC
*An army was coming at me
I stood there ready to brave it
Don't mistake it for fearlessness
That is for the weak of mind
Steeling my nerves
Finding a proper foothold
Focusing on the onslaught
I stood there ready to brave it
And then it hit me with all its force
Hard it was
To not give up
To not succumb
A cut here a stab there
Pain seared through my being
I was assured of my evanescent existence
As the battle axe rushed up to my throat*
Jul 16, 2016
Jul 16, 2016 at 6:09 AM UTC
someday,
after the bombs drop.
someday,
after the plagues wipe us out
someday,
after the leaders are gone.
someday,
after the whitehouse burns.
someday,
after the last shopping mall is abandoned.
the last cop dead, the last priest crucified, the last shots fired
the last person released from prison
the ground is scorched,
mephitic yellow clouds more beautiful than anything imaginable
block out the sun's rays,
casting a green glow on the earth's scorched crust.
torrential winds wipe any plant life from the surface
people still, somehow survive.
they fight on, steeling their hearts
against the pain they knew
hate evaporated.
they harvest mushrooms and algae
in caves,
catching the occasional
creature, stranger
than what we know these days
an alien landscape
on our collective home.
these people
they love
they live
they fight
they work together, their hearts swollen to bursting
sometimes the clouds migrate
and for a few moments they catch a glimpse
of a sky
infinite, old,
and an unbearable thought creeps into their heads
what would i do without you?
my friends?
my love?
i'm home.
Aug 11, 2011
Aug 11, 2011 at 8:15 PM UTC
skies of blue are no match
nor mediterranean hue
a steeling
cool ice
without its hardness
or feel
Dec 16, 2010
Dec 16, 2010 at 10:03 PM UTC
you are an ancient oak tree
an old soul, silently standing vigil
over my balcony.
your branches shade me
as i ponder the intricacies
of the cosmos, limbs outstretched
in a complex web of leaves
embracing unanswered mysteries.
moonbeams peel back the branches to peer
down at you, white light dancing like phantoms
on your skin, desperate to heal
the bits of you cut
and marred by calloused hands.
one day i'll kiss your scars like the moon
and feel the heat of your bark
pressing warm against my form.
your presence steals the toxins
from the air i inhale, steeling me,
harvesting CO2
and producing oxygen.
i want to breathe deep,
fill my lungs with your fragrance,
a heady high, lost
in an aura of hot pink.
as a chorus of crickets
deign to sing just for us—
the only audience still up
at half past 1:00
in the morning—
i treasure the way your mahogany irises
continually brighten when you look at me.
a symbiosis simultaneously saving both of us.
Dec 13, 2016
Dec 13, 2016 at 7:35 AM UTC
sit in a window seal, steeling glimpses at your smile
while you face me, living in a day dream
both trying to figure out if this is real
sun shining through the clouds
smiles displayed proud
they always say
home is where your heart is
you know my favorite part is
sit'n in a window seal, steeling glimpses at your gleam
while you face me, bursting at your seams
both sewing fantasy, trying to make new reality
you have me leaving fantasy for my now and happenings
lock and key
for home and safety
between me and your guitar
you are always playing something
finally home. <3
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 7:25 PM UTC
The Black Veil - by D. B. Sullivan
I knew this day would come. I must confess,
It’s quite surreal to have this taking place.
I hold emotions tight within my dress,
Behind the veil of black that hides my face.
Arriving at the church, I’m overcome
By all the feelings that I have inside.
Until the end, I’m staying silent, mum,
But absolutely present, misty-eyed.
I’m ushered to the front and find my place
With slightly trembling hands, I breathe and wait.
Chantilly lace and crepe obscure my face,
my heart begins to race and palpitate.
The priest begins with welcoming regards.
He then proceeds to bow and raise his hands
Aloft, appealing unto Heav’nly guards
This group of hearts in silence fore him stands.
We bow our heads in rev’rent piety,
And pray that God attend these supplicants
Of mortal flesh. Dispel anxiety -
New life awaits infused with sustenance.
The rites are read to sanctify and bless
Transitioning from this life to the next.
Our faithfulness in God again profess,
That we, in times of strife need not be vexed.
The ***** and its pipes uplift the hymn,
Resounding with an echoing reply.
The colored glass of windows dark and dim
From thunder clouds and rainfall rolling by.
A single rose of red I hold in hand,
With silken gloves that all my arms conceal.
My knees are weak and faint, but here I stand.
Chiffon of black hides ev’rything I feel.
Devotions made, felicitations said,
Means soon will be the last and final bell.
When after tributes voiced and scriptures read,
I find I’m falling farther under spell.
I feel the eyes of all that gathered here,
Anticipating words from me. I start
A deep and steeling breath so all may hear
My words before they'll see me come apart.
And now, with sacramental candles lit,
All other persons did their prayers purvey,
The time has come for me - the last commit.
From ev’ry corner of my soul I say:
“I do”.
Sep 8, 2025
Sep 8, 2025 at 6:16 AM UTC