"sturdiness" poems
Here in the desert
it's been raining
on and off
for days
making the succulents and cacti
glisten with wetness
their thick skin sparkles
and catches nature's ironic eye
flowers and plants shine
so much better in the half-grey
Here in the prehistoric depths
Of rocky whitewash and silt
flash floods rush through
flushing out all guilt
And inside
a raging storm commences
and I feel so blessed
to be a part of this celebration
my lungs expanding in my chest
I breathe in deep
that fresh purity of air
let it cleanse right through me
from my toes up to my hair
It rushes in my body
taking no prisoners in its force
flows through every vein
cleansing poisons in its course
its power flows into me
washing out this stubborn pain
Turning the confusion
into clarity again
From inside subconscious thoughts
realization thunders
rinsing from my mind
the emotional strain
and replacing it with euphoric wonders
Come, my raging desert tempest
Bathe me
penetrate me with wet
restore and purify
my being
take over and disinfect
let me feel my own strength
until it pours out from my cells
into the space inside my heart
where love and lust still dwell
My tears mingle with the sweet drops
as I fling arms open to the sky
releasing strikes of lightening
for every word I cry
as I summon, pray for lightness
mixed with the sturdiness of earth
Let joy rise up and bubble
within my being
as rebirth
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 11:02 AM UTC
You always claim to lack strength
You think you can't bear the burden of pressure
You say you're not as bright as the darkness that surrounds you
But what you fail to realize
Is that you won my affection
I can see within you the sturdiness of a goliath
The will of a warrior
The grace of a dove
You are elegance
My precious diamond
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 8:18 PM UTC
little girl, you better hold on
hold on tight to the charcoal
sturdiness of a railing, to the
warmth emitting from the
barrier of your father's arm, for
the bus would bring you there
once, twice, a hundred times
to the first turbulence of a
flight you are onboard from the
very start, and like that tedious
twenty-two hours to america
like the cousins who followed
the eldest, coolest brother up
hanging on an escalator track
turbulences come one, another
until the odyssey sews to a close
along with your shredded dreams
your corrupted perceptions, your
wrinkles, your bruised, weary heart
which would thus lay within your
burnt, soulless corpse
Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 1:07 PM UTC
You remind me of moonlight and daisies.
The warmth of your smile
and the kindness of your heart
the ways you love music
and the way you appreciate art
You remind me of moonlight and daisies.
The shine of your eyes
and the sturdiness of your hands
The brightness in your voice
and how tall you always stand
You remind me of moonlight and daisies
The way you greet me each day
with your hand on my shoulder
such a warm and wondrous embrace
I’ll be alright as it gets colder
We’ll be alright as we grow older.
Jan 17, 2013
Jan 17, 2013 at 11:20 AM UTC
“there you are” , i should have said
“i was just thinking of you and i was expecting to see you
somewhere, and it was here”
and there we were and all i wanted was for us to stand closer but
i know that was impossible
the pull was magnetic i couldn’t disconnect from the inevitability that was us talking and i asked you about classes because I had to and good lord it is so nice to hear you say things and
you are some of the only brilliance i know that i can actually touch
i should have said “why would i have thought you
wouldn’t be here we haven’t seen each other in six months
don’t be an imbecile let’s discuss more philosophy
and bastardize blasphemy” but i didn’t but it was unsaid but
that was good enough
do you remember what you took from me
do you remember what i had that was really yours
do you know how much of her i now hold with a steady grip
do you know what darts through my chest when i know
the two of you are stagnant ponds?
i looked like there was something in my eyes, probably—
should i have missed you as much as i did?
my soul finds the question irrelevant
i missed you to the point of fogginess
did you ever know that i loved you like the thousand things i also loved?
in that moment i wanted something that was never us
to feel your ribs under your sweater and the sturdiness of your chest as your arms hung limp beside you
knowing exactly what your face must have looked like as i pressed my own into
your confusion
we talked for ten minutes; any multiple would still have left me wanting
and the hole in the centre our node that couldn’t be occupied was her and she’s fine don’t worry
i don’t want to picture you holding her like i never could but can now god yes i missed you
i did
and the way you smiled when things actually deserved it
and the way your hair grows long, well past your shoulders
you could swallow me whole and i’d let you and
you wouldn’t know what to do with that
that’s why i loved you, the only
real thing i loved like unreal things
Dec 13, 2012
Dec 13, 2012 at 5:03 AM UTC
I like the roughness of bark and the feeling of sturdiness.
the texture, unique and familiar like a footprint fading in the sand,
more trustworthy than most things that grow and change
things like people unknowingly trained to lie
like fingernails that dig up flesh,
fingernails that were dead the moment they tried to breathe.
I like the scrape of bark on my bare feet.
After I flinch and almost stumble
My heart pounds; I feel real.
I hold the tree and it holds me.
One day I will put up a swing on that branch,
trust it more than words or feelings.
I'll swing in a sundress and feel the sky.
I'll sing to the tree that doesn't judge
and its leaves will whistle along into the wind.
One day I'll climb up the trunk with bare feet.
I'll go past my branch and go higher
feel twigs snap and scratch; feel it smooth like velvet
At the top I'll have wings.
I'd like this to be my world, so simple
I like the way I feel alive, in the wind
with the song of the leaves
with sun-tickled skin and a head full of smiles
with bark under my bare feet.
I never told anyone that because they'd laugh.
I'm waiting for somebody who will listen
instead of waiting to talk
I'm waiting for someone to see me like
I can't see myself
and (if I'm honest, if I remember what honesty is)
to hold me back from running away.
Arms are more comforting than bark
but I wouldn't know.
Anyway, a branch won't die.
If you want to find me, I won't see you.
You can yell, but I'm not sure I will recognize
real words.
I've only heard screeches and barks, and lies.
I'll be at the top of a tree not looking down,
standing on a branch with bare feet
waiting to grow leaves or wings,
or for someone to sing and laugh or say my name,
or to help me remember love.
Oct 26, 2010
Oct 26, 2010 at 6:49 PM UTC
I want to be alone,
I want every park bench to be empty and cold. I want to sit on the sturdiness of loneliness and feel the harshness of success. You don’t know me. No one does. I want to travel this city barefoot to feel every struggle and perseverance slip between my toes. I hate my feet. I want to hear the screams of frustrated men and women creeping through the alley. I pray for silence. I want to feel the wholeness within me spring up with longevity and curiosity. I love to cry. I want you to be here with me holding my trembling hands. I crave to be alone. I dream of a world that I own that consist of just me, I want to run wild and free, while the wind tussles my hair with no mercy. I miss you. I want to remember no one, not even me so that way I can roam in this world with no attachments not even to my pride or standards. Don’t forget me. I want to hear the echoes of the moon whispering to the ****** on the dampened slick grass. I wait for morning. I want to sink my teeth into the tears of the earth, letting it fill the gaps as I slush around the meek but salty taste to feel alive. I have always needed braces. I long for the arrogance of man to cease to exist. I long for their stupidity. I see you standing there in the middle of my paradise, I see the sun falling down on your shoulders, I see the woman behind you and the crowd of people with her. I see them not knowing who I am and I see there blankness stare of “care”. I see their smiles inviting me in with yours as it starts to drizzle dreams, gliding down everyone’s pulsating hearts. I walk to you. I want to be alone.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 12:52 PM UTC
I am a pillar,
I am a strong structure,
Holding up my friends
And my family
And all those around me.
They see the sturdiness,
Feel the smooth finish,
Lean and tug at my base
And I have not fallen,
Yet.
But these bones are becoming brittle,
These walls are beginning to crumble,
The structure is shaking
From what feels like a thousand tons
Being set upon my shoulders.
My back is aching from the weight,
My knees are wearing down,
The smooth finish is beginning to crack,
But I have not fallen,
Yet.
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 2:28 AM UTC
*Justifiable strength
In a single feather
The sturdiness in a heart
With a weight of acceptance
Touching souls
Healing frowns
Brightening smiles
Through ups and downs
Blessings in disguises
Magical miracles
I'm yours
In fact
Your very own
Guardian Angel
The Little Fallen Angel*
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 2:01 AM UTC
I'm your rock of stability,
forever vigilant,
forever here,
I can weather the worst storms,
and I won't budge during the harshest winds.
I've taken mud slides,
and tidal waves,
but I'll stay strong for you.
My will is the sturdiness of iron,
as I am ever persistent,
and ever looking,
for any cracks that form over time,
but I will chisel away at myself,
and make a fine sand,
that I can use to complete you again,
and fill those cracks.
I'm always firm and a solid ground for you to step on,
I've even opened a cave just for you to hide in.
That's not something I do for anyone,
but I'm so happy it's you I let in.
As the oceans rise,
and the lands change,
there will be one thing waiting for you,
your mighty rock,
where you have carved your name inside my walls that will last,
till the end of time.
Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 8:06 AM UTC
no one knows how to
make love as if their
life depends on it.
death does.
entering and exiting
while maintaining
perfect eye contact.
giving what it takes
fully.
bracing patience, with
the sturdiness of a
promise: ' I'll always be
gentle, even when I come...
we'll go together.
What lives to die inside
you can't lie.'
Apr 21, 2017
Apr 21, 2017 at 12:56 PM UTC
Her thoughts became a jumble, her memory tangled
Oh how easily our fragile mind can get mangled
She used to sing and strum a guitar, while I twirled
Now she moans and cries, frightened of this world
She told me, "My computer don't work good, no more"
I hadn't an idea a battle with dementia she was in for
Her laugh was so boisterous, and her mood often jolly
Now she lies in bed wailing, the last leg of this life folly
She told me stories of a poor farm girl in a land far away
I listened intently, but my thoughts have begun to betray
The memories in this life she shaped have since faded
Of the ones she shared, few remain, forgetfulness invaded
Sometimes a loved one remembers and shares a story
How wonderful to have a new moment of her in her glory
As time goes by and she slips further into murkiness
Our family must gather muster and sturdiness
My mother whom to me is so dear is an empty shell
Sadly, she is so far from herself, on this I often dwell
There is a day still to come, and she will be whole again
My mother at her loveliest with God up in heaven
May 27, 2017
May 27, 2017 at 10:06 PM UTC
Apparently I talk as though
something's missing from your book.
I laugh because I know there's not, yet
I'd be lying if I said that I
hadn't already looked.
When I speak of you my words reveal
none of that which you've become,
I dare not tell them what you mean to me,
nor how you make me feel, once more,
young.
I'm feel as though I'm wobbling from
the sturdiness of your grip.
Unbalanced and uncompromised,
I'm bracing myself to slip
away from you.
I'm waiting for you to leave,
preparing myself to grieve
over your loss. A small voice
attempting to convince that
I never gave a toss for you
at all.
If that voice was right, then I wouldn't feel so small
without you.
You worry me
I haven't felt you attempting to hurry me along,
nor have I felt the need to
long for your affection,
your regular attention shows a surprisingly
full acception and reflection
of myself.
You're lifting me from the shelf of my creation,
my elation dampened simply by surprise
and shock
that the rock I have been clinging to wasn't
such a burden after all.
In fact it became a tool and
rule of our companionship
which I timidly, yet confidently, accept
to be becoming
a relationship.
Welcome to the Mad House.
(I hope you decide to stay)
Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 4:42 PM UTC
I stood
on the stone
of sturdiness
only
to find myself
far away from
stability
and simply
balancing
Jul 5, 2017
Jul 5, 2017 at 5:01 AM UTC
Stay with me, stay here tonight,
And I’ll fill you with delight,
Be with me, be here tonight,
And I’ll kiss you, up, down, left and right.
Hold me close, and I’ll caress,
As we kiss, we slowly undress,
Hold me close, and I’ll caress,
The sturdiness of my bed, we shall test.
Scream for me, scream my name,
As I go in, again and again,
Scream for me, scream my name,
Scratch and bite, I love that ****** pain.
Hot and sweaty, out of breath,
I don’t think I’ve got any energy left,
Hot and sweaty, out of breath,
Round 2, you’re in charge, you’re the ref.
Mar 19, 2012
Mar 19, 2012 at 12:46 PM UTC
this is for the dangerous nights when you are scared to be called beautiful:
darling aphrodite,
I am sorry for all the times you have been called out as an object of another's amusement
and the countless times you will be treated like one
I know, I know, it isn't fair
and if I could, I would stand by your side forever to protect you from the monsters with cruel human faces
but right now, all I can do is remind you that you are worth ten thousand times more than ignoring catcalls in darkened alleys
planning escape routes on the way to the car
gripping pepper spray because your life depends on it
fearing for your safety every time you walk out the door
because my dear, you are the buck that will impale him if he dares to make a wrong move
sweet thing, you are the poison in his veins that will take him down from the inside out
hot stuff, you are the inferno that will consume his rotten soul and dance on the ashes
**** lady,* you are the epitome of what it means to be the female *** strong and clever and indestructible
but baby, I also know how hard it is keep smiling
especially when rest won't come and everything feels wrong and you are surrounded by people but feel completely
utterly
alone
so this is also for the lonely mornings when you wish you could call yourself beautiful:
darling aphrodite,
who convinced you that your worth was only as deep as the fragile shell that traps your soul?
who taught you to focus on the color of your eyes rather than the quiet determination inside,
the glow of your hair rather than incomparable mind underneath,
the curve of your lips rather than the powerful voice behind,
the smoothness of your skin rather than the goddess within?
who decided that, despite the sturdiness of your fist and the unquenchable fire in your chest, the only thing you'd be useful for was to look pretty?
my love,
although I know you can sometimes feel pretty scared of failing,
pretty sad at night when you can't fall asleep at 2am,
pretty disappointed by the ones who left without looking back,
you are also pretty strong
pretty intelligent
pretty important
pretty loved
pretty incredible
and if there is one thing you take from this, I hope it is that
you were made for many reasons: to dance and paint galaxies and wish on shooting stars and love more deeply than anyone ever thought possible
but the one thing you have never been and were never meant to be is just pretty
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 8:36 PM UTC
In the time of courts and ladies and royalty
There was a disorder that plagued the very rich.
Every so often
A king or a duke would become
Convinced
That he was made of glass
And would break
At the slightest flick of a finger
And so let no one touch him.
I wonder at the fragility of the fortunate
And the sturdiness of the downtrodden,
For not a soul who was not of the ilk of a King
Has ever believed such a perilous thing.
Dec 26, 2013
Dec 26, 2013 at 12:29 AM UTC
Stop looking at me
stop stop stop stop.
Their narrow eyes make me want to throw up
and I feel
so sick
welling in me like some ******* typhoon
and I don't know what do with this
energy gathering force, black and huge.
I don't know where to direct this
animal that grew in the cage
of the boxes
that they've tried
to cram the lid on top of
with me there silent.
I am more than *** weight, gender, hair
and not that any of you care,
but I can feel and I'm alive
and my heart is banging against my chest
but nobody's home,
nobody's home.
And you might as well take a knife
and find a place for it between the sturdiness of my ribs.
Maybe you can cut out
some of my less desirable traits.
Maybe you can trim me into shape.
They look at me like a murderer.
Maybe you're afraid I'll stain your cornflower hair red
with my ***** touch.
And the more you
look look look
at me
the more I think
I'd like to very much.
So look at me
like I'm ****** and ******
and sin.
Alright,
okay,
you win.
I'll be the murderer,
the outsider, the stranger you'll never be.
And I'll ******
god, I'll do it.
I'll ****** me.
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 2:29 AM UTC
in the city,
dead leaves skitter across
rough concrete, hushing me,
whispering out my past
and future—brown bodies blown
without the sturdiness
of a branch or root,
cast aside by cold, arid wind,
dropped,
with no one to claim them
but the young, bright children
who like to hear their brittle bones
collapse beneath booted heels,
and the white, indifferent snow
that covers—
buries the broken pieces.
Oct 28, 2018
Oct 28, 2018 at 5:50 PM UTC
He has never seen the ocean
Though, He fantasized about it often
The crashing of waves so loud
When the final sun sets upon them
The feel a salty warmth caress
But he knows rock and stone best
The dirt…the solid ******* earth
The concrete beneath your feet
Sturdiness you feel inside the street
To mountaintops for as long as the day can be
Tress, grass, and wildlife far apart from ocean or sea
Standing atop the ***** of our mother Earth
Yet pondering the very substance of his birth
As his body craves the love of water
The inward haze when basking in the restorer
A tune to that which cannot be ignore
Seeing the vastness of water never seen before
To feel a autonomous body all flowing as one
And all merely living off the love of the sun
Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 11:26 AM UTC
yes, you are, I proclaim, the love of my life
not the spirits of wondering thoughts
but in the flesh, warm, human touch
oh how I quiver, as your breath tickles my neck
your sturdiness holding the limpness of my body
seeming to know that my strength, tho fleeting
is resurected with just one kiss from you
your whispered words are from a magical land
those images dancing in my head, teasing my eyes
the mixing of colors and glorious sounds are too much
then, as we wrap ourselves around each other
we know our love will never cease
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 9:07 PM UTC
heavy paper won't float in the wind
or drown in the water
or give me papercuts like
thin paper does
i have never put my trust in a thing as much as i did my moleskin. her heavy paper called me to come clean and divulge within.
heavy paper looks me in the eye and swears to listen
heavy paper's blankness glistens
and won't i hurt her less tonight? give her less truth? give her less feeling? more imagination too?
heaviness, she's more like sturdiness, she doesn't crumple under my weight
she doesn't mind at all
that i don't know how to start a blank slate
she keeps me in her. my stories, my fears, my secrets.
i owe her all my gratitude.
but sometimes
the more she knows the more i remember the more
i need to tear her up to forget
Oct 16, 2018
Oct 16, 2018 at 7:05 PM UTC
He asked me to confess expectations
An open dare to my emotions
My heart clanged against ribcage
Shaking the sturdiness of my spine
And I cried, each tear
Their own confession
As my expectations trailed down my cheeks
And I couldn’t tell him the truth
Or deliver him my hope
In a careful created box of words
I could trace the exit wounds of each exe
And the pain lingered, small phantoms
I wasn’t ready to let him go
So when he asked for a confession
I didn’t give him my emotions
Because how could I expect him to stay
When everyone leaves?
Jun 21, 2020
Jun 21, 2020 at 3:04 PM UTC
I'm not big with romance.
But I get the feeling
that for some reason,
it's going to be harder than I thought it was,
getting over you.
Maybe it's because you thought that my independence,
my wild hair and ***** and sharp edges
were my most endearing qualities.
Maybe it's because your hands
are so big
that I've got no problem imagining them
holding my heart.
Maybe it's because the idea of you
comforts me
and brings me back down from the busyness
holding my mind.
...and even though it's obvious that you're still figuring yourself out,
and you have the hardest time trying to figure me out,
you've figured me out.
I'm not nearly as complicated as I'd like to think.
You've got this sturdiness about your soul,
that makes me want to lean into it and just be.
Like you could wrap your arms around me,
and, simply, that would be fine.
So, where are you?
Because the funny thing is,
we can't hold a conversation,
or maintain eye contact.
You're immature and rash,
and so am I.
All we ever do is argue,
vocal sparring, as it were,
never breaking the layer
into deeper conversation.
But I miss the way I'd catch you,
giving me this look
of confused admiration,
of bewilderment,
of exasperation,
of happiness.
Do you miss the chance we had,
as much as I do?
Sep 6, 2015
Sep 6, 2015 at 2:55 AM UTC
it is hard to imagine a ground on which i could securely stand.
or a foundation that i could retreat back to in times of distress or dismay or distrust.
that same transparent foundation has taught me mistrust.
by stark contrast,
that absence has taught me to
extract happiness from sources, such as the way the sun searches for a vacant piece of earth to glow upon,
or the cracks in the sidewalk…
supposedly, there are two people in this entire world who I am to value even more greatly than the 180 minutes that are my favorite of the entire day.
i am supposed to rely on their sturdiness much more than relying on a dilapidated mistake in the pavement .
however, now all i want to see is that pavement, becoming a secure barrier between the things i cannot understand
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 7:03 PM UTC