"straightly" poems
i’m sorry.
that may come as a surprise to you, i know
haven’t really spoken much lately though
haven’t really spoken a lot at all
but hey, that’s okay
i know how hard it is to make a phone call.
that’s probably why i always forget to
oh honey, no, of course it’s not you!
i’ve just been so busy lately
but when i can, i will go to my cellphone straightly
and scroll down; way down
to the numbers of people living outta town
to the numbers i would never admit
i honestly don’t give a sh!t.
i wasn’t enough back then.
do you even remember the time when...?
when, you know...
oh...silly me!
you probably not.
the time
when time turned against you and ran out the clock
the time on this fateful november night
you could see everything you didn’t do right
the time sombody decided to send me down here
just so i could feel the vain, and of course the fear
emotions you taught me all to well
when you shouldn’t even have been able to enter my so former fragile shell
a shell i never planned for you to see
let alone sit down there with you and
have a tea
i never understood why you said what you said.
and i probably never will.
wouldnt you give anything now for that abortion-pill?
i know you would, and that with certainty
i heared you say it when dicussing the cost of an university
and although it was that exact moment my heart forever broke
because you were saying it like it was a god **** joke
and although your lawyer sat there giggling
with my mother next to them,
the highest level of patience bringing
i still can’t bring myself to hate you with all my heart
at the end of the day
you and i
are eachothers lost part.
no matter how small
you somehow are
after all.
my mom still adores you, and i guess that’s okay
i can’t blame her for being some way.
what i do blame her for, and that i can’t undo
is that of all the men in the world
she had to chose you.
Love,
me
Jun 17, 2018
Jun 17, 2018 at 2:24 PM UTC
FLAME-Heart, take back your love. Swift, sure
And poignant as the dagger to the mark,
Your will is burning ever; it is pure.
Mine is vague water welling through the dark,
Holding all substances--except the spark.
Picture the pleasure of the meadow stream
When some clear striding naked-footed girl
Cuts swift and straightly as a gleam
Across its ***** ambling and aswirl
With mooning eddies and soft lips acurl;
Such was our meeting--fatefully so brief.
I have no purpose and no power to clutch.
Gleam onward, maiden, to your goal of grief;
And I more sadly flow, remembering much,
Yet doomed to take the form of all I touch.
1.8k
I sit straightly for a moment,
slouch back in my seat
As the dripping of my energy
reaches midday portions
the dragging of my feet
becomes the least of my worries
its not the pain that’s unbearable
but the many useless potions
the slowly ripping poisons
my mouth must keep desiring
I sigh
trying to remember
the truths I chose so randomly
to write off as tacit lies
in my moneyless estate
it was easier
to think I could live without them
but now I see I’ve only died
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 2:34 PM UTC
Poetry is the dress she always adorns herself,
the see-through floral patterns reveal her more-
than conceal, my eyes imbibe its aesthetics in the fraction-
of a moment and to tell the truth, they are thankful.
Poetic is her walk, her rhythmically swaying buttocks-
subtly speak by allusion of genetic possibilities vast;
in her movement's poetry my lineage would be safe.
Her lips part, the warmth, ruddy pout and perfect shape suggest
her sensual love making wound be both tender and swirling
like the poetic feeling, an image unleashes to overpower me to surrender.
Poetry makes its essence look like a fine silvery glint
in those deep eyes, that have a sensual droop in the eyelids.
Arrows straightly directed to my tender heart, from the bow of her chest
contrary to the normal, creates a cadence, poetic utmost !
She is, nothing but poetry in motion, rooted in beauty's repository,
that never will fully drain, even if the most she makes her own often.
Oct 12, 2013
Oct 12, 2013 at 3:13 AM UTC
Behind th' bushes I caught thee
As thou drove forth straightly by me.
Wearing a grey suit and dark tie
Thou smiled as thou waved us goodbye.
I was trudging along one friend
When outright it began to rain.
Flipping about th' green bushes;
Darting afore 'twixt blue masses.
Thou wert as keen as usual
Busy as t'ose spinning laurels
With leaves so prone as nearby wood
Whose fruits real jolly fine and good.
Thou wert screened by yon murky glass
Whilst rain soaked us wet by th' grass.
Scents of firm tulips ***** my breath;
filling plump bleak air with warm death.
Among t'ose hills wert swarms of bees
and roaming flies behind whose courts.
Swans t'at wandered by wert like thee;
comely but shy in thy owneth worlds.
Lilies of life, roses of death
Be blessings to thy youth and health
And soft like moonlit lavender;
Turn to me alone and leave her.
But my poems wert within thy mind;
and my songs thy red-lipped sonnet.
Everything's good; everything's fine;
Read my words tonite 'fore thy bed.
And as thou sat breathless and still
Like t'is trifling rain made us feel;
Guilty as itself and fake clouds
For show'ring our naive earth out loud.
Our destiny was seen again;
Like how some dand'llions shalt remain
When t'is cold-like spring's dragged away
As summer befriendeth early May.
Webs of young hope gasped in thy eyes;
clear as had never been disguised.
Not as vague but wert surely thine,
blissful and sweet; as which of mine.
Apr 25, 2013
Apr 25, 2013 at 5:51 PM UTC
Felix Calvalari and the Rascals singing Groovy.
As I ride along.
What a lovely uplifting mood song?
Of two people enjoying the mood.
And the Beach Boys singing Don't Worry Baby.
Stating everything is going to be alright.
How can you not love a lady like this?
Who gives off great confidence.
I truly believe, I could never love another.
After loving her.
David Ruffin's blended truth behind the lyrics of this Temptations song.
If I lost her in any way.
I would try something new to reconnect.
The Miracles truly spoke the truth about the things love will make you do.
I guess I'm in a sixties type mood.
When words solely spoke straightly to you.
I understand the woman's that seek respect.
Otis Redding wrote the song addressing it.
Altho' Aretha seems to get the credit.
What can I say about the two Dions?
With Dion Mucci singing about Donna the Primma Donna.
The type you probably couldn't get to ride a honda.
And then Dione Warwicke singing about singing about praying.
Oh, yes I'm in a sixties mood.
When words solely spoke to your heart.
When the Beatles stated don't let me down.
Them words was a message needed to be heard.
And papa never had a brand new bag.
I'm still trying to figure out those James Brown words.
Well, I relax for a few minutes.
Until I get ready to play another song.
Cause for the moment.
I'm just enjoying these sixties songs.
Sep 25, 2012
Sep 25, 2012 at 9:37 AM UTC
And t'is is truthfully why I am here, my love:
I belong to thee, sacredly, entirely, and soulfully
to thee-yes, only to thee!
My eyes brighten at every sight of thee,
my mind delights at the thoughts of thee,
my pulse fastens at the views of thee,
my blood curdles at the scent of thee,
my veins rustle at the gaze of thee-and hark!
Hark now, dearest-how my heart leaps,
sheepishly yet excitedly-when'ver I recall thee!
Ah, and how t'is feeling trembles and fidgets
as always, as thou stareth back-gladly and
with a smile so handsome yet animated and playful-
sweeping straightly back into my soul.
Like t'ose stupefying, sentient glazes of summers-
blowing silently with the rustic gallantry
of t'eir ruddy oaks, my heart is elevated
with defiant, but affectionate branches
of terrific, terrific love for thee!
Oh! And t'ese thou but needst to know-
t'at both my virtuous-and vicious lusts-crave only thee,
as well as how my pure joys rely on thee!
As despairingly as how
my soul was born for thee,
my life was crafted for thee,
my hands were paired with thee,
and thus so graciously are my young feet-
my toes, my ribs, my lungs, and the very limbs
in which my spines might dwell, and be celebrated
by thy gentle, manly breath.
Oh, how thou, my Western prince-so delicate
and blessed with all the might
of my very being-thou hath, my love, since the very first
been my gem, my bronze, my silver, my gold,
my charm, my pearl, my diamond, my light,
my fire, my treasure, and my lifelong dreams-as thou
shalt always be!
And so art thou the perfect accord
to comply with all such of my mine;
as thou art but the freshest bloom
of my ****** years,
as innocent as t'is nature's peaceful labyrinths-
but youthful and starry like the fruit of my most curious-
yet ardently succulent imagination.
And how I am so devoted to thee, my love!
Just like the stars are to the moon above.
Mar 2, 2013
Mar 2, 2013 at 3:34 PM UTC
03/17/2014
Dear you,
Some days I was lying awake in a middle of night, counting the stars on the hazy sky and hope you're doing the same. I looked at the full moon, wishing you were here with me but I had a little thought that you might be looking at the same moon so it was enough for me. I was thinking about your beautiful smile, your charming eyes, your raspy voice, and I wondered how it feels to having your fingers intertwined with mine. I read so many books and knew some plenty of beautiful words but none of them could fit my feelings for you. You are the most beautiful human I've ever known, inside and outside. Wrote this letter for you just wasting my time because you would never read it but Hell, I can't think of other ways to express this incredible feeling for you, my dear. When I saw you from the very first time I straightly fell in love with your smile and the curious part of myself started getting bigger and higher. Soon, I knew your name and I remembered how happy I was to figure it out. I was having a strange feeling for you at first, and I really don't know what it's called until I learn the word "love". And by saying this, I mean the strong meaning for love because it's a strong word and people often underestimate it for their lust feelings or the romantic situations.
Dear you,
I love you for the way you are. For the way you laugh at your stupid jokes, for the way you fall asleep on the couch or even in your own suitcase (you are so precious); for the way you smile at the nice things, for your kindness to people who need help, for your humbleness, for your eyes that lighten up and darken up in a minutes, for your silly dance move and for the way you are.
I really hope it doesn't turn out to be an ordinary love letter but well, as I said, I don't have any words to truly express my love for you. Thanks for being exist and I owe my life to you because without you, I wouldn't be here and I wouldn't be like this. You make me worth living and you make me feel so priceless and I can't thank you enough for that.
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 5:31 AM UTC
w
w
white is girl talk
l
ol
vol
evol
levol
ylevol
teeth opalescent silky
it's big
or small
immediately after
rainsomesummer
wetly (whose shoulders are star struck shining
manifold upon manifold of dewy ******
shakes
a
nExact
excellence of pearls straightly
more fragile than
the bulb of a wilting flower is fragile
but whose body is strong beneath it
tall with muscles
and wears laughter like a coronet of thorns)
emerging
timidly
destroys
by
velveteen
breath
the tightness
of closing eyes
L
LO
LOV
LOVE
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 6:02 PM UTC
i wasn,t a god but i('ve)
drohc detonk tsrif eht detsat
of ****** silence tonguing
the velvety paint of nothing
plastic thorns punishing sweetly
a rose
patient hands searing nouns
of shapeless conformity
straightly bending smooth roughness
and red
and yes
and and and and
smile little blood
i'll cup your naked furnishings
and we'll go strongly
into the darkness burdened vine
of stringy gargled nightmares
and
;'hiccup"
Oct 18, 2010
Oct 18, 2010 at 2:23 PM UTC
“I write blurt by blurt, edit once, then post and send it out like a puppy”
that is learning to walk, impossible to walk straightly,
thank gawd for walls and laundry baskets and single sneakers
that obstacle us into trouble, opportunities always a near
but never fatal crashing,
and our whisking swishing tail is an ever
countervailing, counterbalancing
waving gesture of
“oops,
there we one goes from nearly, nearer, almost another
nearest disaster
*that is the style of substance of how I write
headlong smashing, bouncing off walls,
regrouping spindly words into a balletic
clown show,
startling off in a new and unforeseen direction,
scrambling energy like three sunny side up eggs,
whistling and crackling and popping,
god, this writing stuff is **** tiring,
so much easier to respose,
chew there upon,
selectfully taste and spit~select
a single word,
picking the appropriate apropos,
taking a nap in between,
then
recommencing
blurting
blurts
of escapading words
that tumble out,
falling all around,
requiring reassembly like
an impossible-to-put-together
new toy,
anyway,
here for you to play with
for your sensory pleasure
is my latest greatest
blurt,
which rhymes with
dessert,
which I will imbibe
after eating all my*
vegetables.
Mar 11, 2024
Mar 11, 2024 at 4:47 PM UTC
When I asked him how old was he
Giving a mischievous wink
Said won’t tell you straightly
But in a riddle to think!
If you add up the digits of that year
Multiply it by three
You would be almost there
But not there exactly!
Three more to it you’ve to add
And that’s my age no doubt
You would make me really glad
If can figure that out!
The two digits that make my age
Have a difference of one
You’ve enough clues to the maze
To work out my age with fun!
The digits added is short of ten
But from one too far
Would you now take the pain
To make my age clear?
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 9:06 AM UTC
There is a sheep
Playing in the court
That is wide
He jumps happily
He feels funny
He sings loudly
But suddenly
He felt lonely
He goes immediately
To search for friendly
He walks shortly
He walks straightly
He walks unlikely
Till he finds them
They are great
They are like him
Sheep and goats'
He invites them
They get hesitated
He says obviously
The court is wide
The plants are great
They are green
Who wants happy?
Must live there
Who wants heaven?
Must go yonder
They look at faces
Why don't they go?
Why don't they do"
The effort to get more
To make their life happy
They deal with themselves
with honest and funny
feeling at inner
with the sense of satisfy
of the sense of ready
to thank their God truly
They are all going happily
Sep 15, 2018
Sep 15, 2018 at 11:32 PM UTC
Quiet little Roam
Pointing out there straightly
Through the whitened window
she's been smiling gently.
" I wanted you to
feel something behind.
Something
I'd write thousand poems about,
and it still wouldn't say much
about what I've been fortunate to find.
Something
divine . "
Jun 23, 2016
Jun 23, 2016 at 4:13 AM UTC
“I don’t do feelings.” I said.
“Why?” he asked.
“Even before I was born I already got my heart broken by a guy.”
He wanted to laugh but I looked directly and straightly at his face.
“Who broke your heart?”
“My father”
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 10:24 AM UTC
I miss you,
Clear cut,
Crystal globe,
When the stories of the past,
Hung more or less straightly,
Like the ribben suspending you
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 7:04 PM UTC
This kind of vision is what I use,
In everything that caught
The attention of my eye.
It helps me see things,
That I can't see straightly.
Maybe because I'm just shy or scared.
Or barely having fear of rejection.
But the moment I met you,
I know in myself I'm not scared anymore.
Because you're so perfect and fine.
I'm so inlove with you,
So why the hell I'm going to use my peripheral vision
If I can see you in face to face.
You're so perfect and hella nice.
Dec 4, 2017
Dec 4, 2017 at 7:51 AM UTC
Hello my old friend.
I guess it’s nice to see you again.
You’ve been visiting me so much lately.
Nothing in my head is forming anything straightly
It’s all jumbled and clouded and mixed.
I don’t know how this problem can be fixed
Writer’s block has gotten a hold on me!
It just won’t let my writings be!
I used to be able to write poem after poem,
But now I’m lucky if I even get a quote done.
Maybe if I shoot myself in the head
The creativity will spill out all over my bed.
I want to make a name for myself!
But right now, I just see my book on a dusty shelf.
I continuously tap key after key
Why won’t any nice rhymes come out of me?
I keep on searching and searching
I do all of my researching
On the topics I need to write
Yet nothing in this poem seems right
I want to write about my personal experiences.
But right now my book is on clearance.
I don’t feel good enough to make it in this industry
I don’t want to let this blank mind stop me
Yet it feels as if I have no choice.
It feels as if I have lost my voice.
Writer’s block is Ursula in the deep sea
She made this contact with me
I grew my vocabulary but lost my voice
Why did I make this choice?
It’s just mismatched words and no originality
Where is my creativity?
I used to have such a loud mind.
But now everything’s quiet and I mind.
Of course the full first poem I’ve written in a month is about not being able to write.
Sounds like me, I’m just the type.
Jan 12, 2016
Jan 12, 2016 at 11:27 PM UTC
Where in the world does most
Love comes from?
The world is summarized by its big size,
But you summarize the;
Beauty in the whole world.
What a merchant of beauty, you are.
I can straightly tell you;
That you melt my worries each time
We are together.
Though I choose my daily menu,
I never chose that we meet
But destiny brought you into my life.
Away from my thoughts
and imaginations-you appeared
Kicking out the terror of all night mares from me
and setting me free, off the hook
of living with a wandering mind.
Considered me a Great man isn’t the issue
but hunting down
The most prestigious, beautiful-though feared
and untamable in nature, has left all men
Bowing in respect . For this is;, my treasure
I trade it with no other.
The Indescribable body that lives me boasting.
All Lying in my custody
Let it live, but dehorn it ,So that it may not hurt you
And when we met it was unusual
I thought I was sleep walking.
You entice me with sweet memories
From the time you set foot, in my life.
The darkness of loneliness disappeared in thin air,
I felt love moving down my soul
this time, I had graduated
With a first class degree in love
and straight away you granted me a post,
Senior counsel in the chambers of your heart.
Goodbye to the Merchants of lies
Am away from the streets of loneliness
To a city of happiness
I wish not to look back
I may miss a memory of this
Comfort zone.
Don’t wake me up, am no longer a dreamer
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 6:00 AM UTC
The origin of love is beauty of blonde
Which knits lover and beloved in bond
Love takes lover to infinity or beyond
Lover wants to keep beauty as pawned
My love your curves are taking my life
They are keeping me the on edge of knife
My pain and pleasure dangles with rife
My love for your sake I can face the strife
You are moon and I am lunatic pheasant
In your love I always remain on the front
In my stance of love I am straightly blunt
For sake of your beauty I will bear brunt
I know my lunacy will affect the intimacy
But my only mission is to make you happy
Your cheeks are creamy your lips are juicy
Your beautiful curves make you more ****
Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
Jun 17, 2016
Jun 17, 2016 at 3:17 PM UTC
I had forgotten,
The way vines tendrils will change,
Surprising me with a heart,
A tight curl in unlikely place,
I was focused on the past,
The thick, brown stem,
Crawling straightly,
Up the wall,
And didn't notice,
New, purple plants,
Shooting from the ground,
To wrap around,
The highest windows,
So long had I stared,
Upon the old and well-established
(but rotting away),
My mind gasped in wonder,
At the vine,
Who retained its youthful vigor,
And willowy form,
After enduring years by the straight stock,
Pale green reached deep into
But a few,
Bricks,
And was my favorite flavor.
Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 4:26 PM UTC
when i open up the book....
my mind gets sturdy and weary,
and i feel derf and merry,
like girls in summer party,
feeling sober but not really,
my eyes change their look,
and i can only see the consonant
and vowels as a great cook,
my ears get connected to my
optic nerve,
so that the rhymes are the only thing
I can observe,
and i get focused straightly, no more curves,
so that i can be able to serve
my brain and get something to love,
when i open up the book ......
the pain goes away
like a patient being told that he's gonna leave hospital today,
like a surprised girl on her birthday,
and i can only feel a better
future coming in my way.
when i open up a book.........
i embrace the real meaning
of life,
knowing that i should never end it
With a knife,
my soul become so sensitive,
So that i can only think positive,
feeling strong and competitive,
because i embrace something to give,
and i do this silently,not talkative.
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 2:22 AM UTC