"superb" poems - Hello Poetry

Seven Empressive Holy Scarce (Connection) Voluminous Exceedingly Hopeful Serpents (One) Very Immense Daffodils Lie (Together) Superb Whole Emanating Velociraptors (Packed) Solo Divided Encounters (Meaning behind meeting) |||VVhat?

0

Aug 26, 2018

Aug 26, 2018 at 10:43 PM UTC

stesekes

You do the math

Seven Empressive Holy Scarce (Connection) Voluminous Exceedingly Hopeful Serpents (One) Very Immense Daffodils Lie (Together) Superb Whole Emanating Velociraptors (Packed) Solo Divided Encounters (Meaning behind meeting) |||VVhat?

25

Trying to find solace in the suburbs when everything seemed superb like that cookie-cutter, picket fence, faux fur mentality they instill at the start Just an infant with scars He reached for her baby bump, Then slammed it hard onto the stairwell She fell, wept, and held That lil princess and prayed she'd never have the same hell All grown up. Alive and well shes got different demons different intricate cells It's been said she is special she is awake But, in many ways She is the same As that ANGEL who carried her 23 years ago That's debt I'll always owe A gift I'll never own Carefully Constructed and Creatively Sewn shoved a soul into that shell That'll one day guide her back home Shes got her mamas tough, yet gentle heart her smile, brevity and love for art.. she can write her *** off like her the wrote and the writ Yet she's plagued by guilt every ******* minute GUILT for the life that she'd been given GUILT for each exhale emitted She prays that God will have the sense to go back in time and hit OMIT (on all chapters even close to the word 'human' there's GUILT for feeling guilty even more for despising your own ) "I must've slipped through the gate, admit it! Or recruit another for your mission regretfully, I must solicit that I'm not fit for this position I'm no hero I'm the villain If ya look close you'll see I spit venom" Mama walks in smiles and says "WE. ARE. WOMEN!" "Betta recognize and quit your bitchin' as of today, you are living.. You are loved You are safe You are ************* winning WARRIOR, CREATOR, QUEEN, GODDESS, INCARNATE.. We are strength & We are the faith never to be broken but we still stay brave The Legend wont start or end with you Its a fight stretched out through time You will understand soon No matter how much you ask "WHY" It wont stop circumstance wont stop lies wont stop suffering and will NEVER compromise Your in the way of the wave, child This..... the secret to life When in the way of the wave... its only a matter of time S0 if youre searching for solace Will you promise To memorize this line

0

Mar 9, 2018

Mar 9, 2018 at 3:54 AM UTC

Twighead

Mom

Trying to find solace in the suburbs when everything seemed superb like that cookie-cutter, picket fence, faux fur mentality they instill at the start Just an infant with scars He reached for her baby bump, Then slammed it hard onto the stairwell She fell, wept, and held That lil princess and prayed she'd never have the same hell All grown up. Alive and well shes got different demons different intricate cells It's been said she is special she is awake But, in many ways She is the same As that ANGEL who carried her 23 years ago That's debt I'll always owe A gift I'll never own Carefully Constructed and Creatively Sewn shoved a soul into that shell That'll one day guide her back home Shes got her mamas tough, yet gentle heart her smile, brevity and love for art.. she can write her *** off like her the wrote and the writ Yet she's plagued by guilt every ******* minute GUILT for the life that she'd been given GUILT for each exhale emitted She prays that God will have the sense to go back in time and hit OMIT (on all chapters even close to the word 'human' there's GUILT for feeling guilty even more for despising your own ) "I must've slipped through the gate, admit it! Or recruit another for your mission regretfully, I must solicit that I'm not fit for this position I'm no hero I'm the villain If ya look close you'll see I spit venom" Mama walks in smiles and says "WE. ARE. WOMEN!" "Betta recognize and quit your bitchin' as of today, you are living.. You are loved You are safe You are ************* winning WARRIOR, CREATOR, QUEEN, GODDESS, INCARNATE.. We are strength & We are the faith never to be broken but we still stay brave The Legend wont start or end with you Its a fight stretched out through time You will understand soon No matter how much you ask "WHY" It wont stop circumstance wont stop lies wont stop suffering and will NEVER compromise Your in the way of the wave, child This..... the secret to life When in the way of the wave... its only a matter of time S0 if youre searching for solace Will you promise To memorize this line

85

Derartu, Haile, Tirunesh Kenenisa, Meseret, and all With a similar footfall! Displaying a superb Long-distance athletic feat When many superstars Awe inspiringly you beat And as a result of it When your sought-for Fought-for And nation- prayed-for Dream proves a hit And also with kudos A stadium full of people opt You to greet And when spectators Accord you a high five It is for your country's flag You immediately dive! Also on the podium while Ethiopia's row-wise Green,Yellow and Red Emblazoned flag, Shoulder high, Soars above You express Your umbilical cord-tight National love With tears that Trickle down each of Your cheek,quick. Is it because Reminiscent of Each living hero With a life sacrifice That brought colonial Aggression to zero? Is it because The bounty of the land You grew up Seeing first hand? Is it because The cherished corner You cut in the heart of The poor but prideful Ethiopian neighbour? Is it because The unity in diversity That showcases Ethiopia's identity Or citizens hospitality? Is it because At heart strings a tug Or ,among others Gratefulness to Your iron-strong lung When you hear Ethiopian anthem sung? Is it because a secret another Deep down you harbour? Is it because the Fertility Hope and Sovereignty ideals The flag advance, Also Ethiopia's being A beacon of independence What is more The nation's renaissance Which in a curtain of mist Before your eyes dance?

0

Oct 12, 2015

Oct 12, 2015 at 5:02 AM UTC

alem-hailu-gkristos

An overriding national feeling

Derartu, Haile, Tirunesh Kenenisa, Meseret, and all With a similar footfall! Displaying a superb Long-distance athletic feat When many superstars Awe inspiringly you beat And as a result of it When your sought-for Fought-for And nation- prayed-for Dream proves a hit And also with kudos A stadium full of people opt You to greet And when spectators Accord you a high five It is for your country's flag You immediately dive! Also on the podium while Ethiopia's row-wise Green,Yellow and Red Emblazoned flag, Shoulder high, Soars above You express Your umbilical cord-tight National love With tears that Trickle down each of Your cheek,quick. Is it because Reminiscent of Each living hero With a life sacrifice That brought colonial Aggression to zero? Is it because The bounty of the land You grew up Seeing first hand? Is it because The cherished corner You cut in the heart of The poor but prideful Ethiopian neighbour? Is it because The unity in diversity That showcases Ethiopia's identity Or citizens hospitality? Is it because At heart strings a tug Or ,among others Gratefulness to Your iron-strong lung When you hear Ethiopian anthem sung? Is it because a secret another Deep down you harbour? Is it because the Fertility Hope and Sovereignty ideals The flag advance, Also Ethiopia's being A beacon of independence What is more The nation's renaissance Which in a curtain of mist Before your eyes dance?

69

Somewhere beneath that piano's superb sleek black Must hide my mother's piano, little and brown with the back That stood close to the wall, and the front's faded silk, both torn And the keys with little hollows, that my mother's fingers had worn. Softly, in the shadows, a woman is singing to me Quietly, through the years I have crept back to see A child sitting under the piano, in the boom of the shaking strings Pressing the little poised feet of the mother who smiles as she sings The full throated woman has chosen a winning, living song And surely the heart that is in me must belong To the old Sunday evenings, when darkness wandered outside And hymns gleamed on our warm lips, as we watched mother's fingers glide Or this is my sister at home in the old front room Singing love's first surprised gladness, alone in the gloom. She will start when she sees me, and blushing, spread out her hands To cover my mouth's raillery, till I'm bound in her shame's heart-spun bands A woman is singing me a wild Hungarian air And her arms, and her ***** and the whole of her soul is bare And the great black piano is clamouring as my mother's never could clamour And the tunes of the past are devoured of this music's ravaging glamour.

0

6.8k

D.H. Lawrence

The Piano (Notebook Version)

Somewhere beneath that piano's superb sleek black Must hide my mother's piano, little and brown with the back That stood close to the wall, and the front's faded silk, both torn And the keys with little hollows, that my mother's fingers had worn. Softly, in the shadows, a woman is singing to me Quietly, through the years I have crept back to see A child sitting under the piano, in the boom of the shaking strings Pressing the little poised feet of the mother who smiles as she sings The full throated woman has chosen a winning, living song And surely the heart that is in me must belong To the old Sunday evenings, when darkness wandered outside And hymns gleamed on our warm lips, as we watched mother's fingers glide Or this is my sister at home in the old front room Singing love's first surprised gladness, alone in the gloom. She will start when she sees me, and blushing, spread out her hands To cover my mouth's raillery, till I'm bound in her shame's heart-spun bands A woman is singing me a wild Hungarian air And her arms, and her ***** and the whole of her soul is bare And the great black piano is clamouring as my mother's never could clamour And the tunes of the past are devoured of this music's ravaging glamour.

20

Paltry people project putrid opinions, propelled from puny pinpoint brains, in their pint-sized prickly pineapple pulp heads. If they stopped and stayed silent, stood still and listened, stuff some significant people said would seep in, and seem simply superb when seen with acceptance and socially sensitive skills

0

Feb 3, 2010

Feb 3, 2010 at 8:14 AM UTC

martin-trahbeg

Prejudice

Paltry people project putrid opinions, propelled from puny pinpoint brains, in their pint-sized prickly pineapple pulp heads. If they stopped and stayed silent, stood still and listened, stuff some significant people said would seep in, and seem simply superb when seen with acceptance and socially sensitive skills

2

1129 Tell all the Truth but tell it slant— Success in Circuit lies Too bright for our infirm Delight The Truth’s superb surprise As Lightning to the Children eased With explanation kind The Truth must dazzle gradually Or every man be blind—

0

4.8k

Emily Dickinson

Tell all the Truth but tell it slant

1129 Tell all the Truth but tell it slant— Success in Circuit lies Too bright for our infirm Delight The Truth’s superb surprise As Lightning to the Children eased With explanation kind The Truth must dazzle gradually Or every man be blind—

9

I enjoy watching my baby boy’s drama In his room, on his bed among his toys What a superb imagination Translated in a form of play... A battle between the amazing legacy of heroes Put George Lucas in the house of shame With his famous Luke Sky walker, In Star Wars saga Have Sam Raimi’s done his research well? In creating Spiderman 3? With this “genius in the making” young child Left alone to build his creativity I am convinced with obvious prediction... Hollywood superheoes would be doomed.. Here is a 2 year old boy In Spideman suit, Acting Spiderman, hitting the Angry bird jet The jet punches Spiderman back. Then, Mama is forced to sleep with Spiderman Forced Mama again, this time to love the Man of Steel After the gruel some battle, Jet & Spiderman decided to sleep together in the pink hammock with Tigger. The proud child is happy , His mission is accomplished! A bottle of luke warm milk... Well done! He earns his trophy Tonight he helps to save the world.

0

Jun 17, 2013

Jun 17, 2013 at 5:32 AM UTC

sharina-saad

A child's Imagination

I enjoy watching my baby boy’s drama In his room, on his bed among his toys What a superb imagination Translated in a form of play... A battle between the amazing legacy of heroes Put George Lucas in the house of shame With his famous Luke Sky walker, In Star Wars saga Have Sam Raimi’s done his research well? In creating Spiderman 3? With this “genius in the making” young child Left alone to build his creativity I am convinced with obvious prediction... Hollywood superheoes would be doomed.. Here is a 2 year old boy In Spideman suit, Acting Spiderman, hitting the Angry bird jet The jet punches Spiderman back. Then, Mama is forced to sleep with Spiderman Forced Mama again, this time to love the Man of Steel After the gruel some battle, Jet & Spiderman decided to sleep together in the pink hammock with Tigger. The proud child is happy , His mission is accomplished! A bottle of luke warm milk... Well done! He earns his trophy Tonight he helps to save the world.

28

I was asking for something specific and perfect for my city, Whereupon, lo! upsprang the aboriginal name! Now I see what there is in a name, a word, liquid, sane, unruly, musical, self-sufficient; I see that the word of my city is that word up there, Because I see that word nested in nests of water-bays, superb, with tall and wonderful spires, Rich, hemm’d thick all around with sailships and steamships—an island sixteen miles long, solid-founded, Numberless crowded streets—high growths of iron, slender, strong, light, splendidly uprising toward clear skies; Tide swift and ample, well-loved by me, toward sundown, The flowing sea-currents, the little islands, larger adjoining islands, the heights, the villas, The countless masts, the white shore-steamers, the lighters, the ferry-boats, the black sea-steamers well-model’d; The down-town streets, the jobbers’ houses of business—the houses of business of the ship-merchants, and money-brokers—the river-streets; Immigrants arriving, fifteen or twenty thousand in a week; The carts hauling goods—the manly race of drivers of horses—the brown-faced sailors; The summer air, the bright sun shining, and the sailing clouds aloft; The winter snows, the sleigh-bells—the broken ice in the river, passing along, up or down, with the flood tide or ebb-tide; The mechanics of the city, the masters, well-form’d, beautiful-faced, looking you straight in the eyes; Trottoirs throng’d—vehicles—Broadway—the women—the shops and shows, The parades, processions, bugles playing, flags flying, drums beating; A million people—manners free and superb—open voices—hospitality—the most courageous and friendly young men; The free city! no slaves! no owners of slaves! The beautiful city, the city of hurried and sparkling waters! the city of spires and masts! The city nested in bays! my city! The city of such women, I am mad to be with them! I will return after death to be with them! The city of such young men, I swear I cannot live happy, without I often go talk, walk, eat, drink, sleep, with them!

0

4.2k

Walt Whitman

Mannahatta

I was asking for something specific and perfect for my city, Whereupon, lo! upsprang the aboriginal name! Now I see what there is in a name, a word, liquid, sane, unruly, musical, self-sufficient; I see that the word of my city is that word up there, Because I see that word nested in nests of water-bays, superb, with tall and wonderful spires, Rich, hemm’d thick all around with sailships and steamships—an island sixteen miles long, solid-founded, Numberless crowded streets—high growths of iron, slender, strong, light, splendidly uprising toward clear skies; Tide swift and ample, well-loved by me, toward sundown, The flowing sea-currents, the little islands, larger adjoining islands, the heights, the villas, The countless masts, the white shore-steamers, the lighters, the ferry-boats, the black sea-steamers well-model’d; The down-town streets, the jobbers’ houses of business—the houses of business of the ship-merchants, and money-brokers—the river-streets; Immigrants arriving, fifteen or twenty thousand in a week; The carts hauling goods—the manly race of drivers of horses—the brown-faced sailors; The summer air, the bright sun shining, and the sailing clouds aloft; The winter snows, the sleigh-bells—the broken ice in the river, passing along, up or down, with the flood tide or ebb-tide; The mechanics of the city, the masters, well-form’d, beautiful-faced, looking you straight in the eyes; Trottoirs throng’d—vehicles—Broadway—the women—the shops and shows, The parades, processions, bugles playing, flags flying, drums beating; A million people—manners free and superb—open voices—hospitality—the most courageous and friendly young men; The free city! no slaves! no owners of slaves! The beautiful city, the city of hurried and sparkling waters! the city of spires and masts! The city nested in bays! my city! The city of such women, I am mad to be with them! I will return after death to be with them! The city of such young men, I swear I cannot live happy, without I often go talk, walk, eat, drink, sleep, with them!

24

Aye, Vladimir, just before I met thee I hath been sure I hath loved him- no matter as queer as it may hath seemed! Thou knowest not, how much tears I hath shredded and noticest not, how t'eir vanity made me look dead! But why-why then didst thou appear- and wokest within me t'is secret fear- with understanding in thy eyes, and with a love t'at is to me so dear. Why-why t'en thou left me, left me again! Whenst I got to knowest thou but for a moment, ah, with not so much of an endearment- afforded ourselves only t'at streak of lovely, but still weak of too a bond, or any pact, of young novelty. And everything was corrupt As soon as thou re-released me into t'ese qualms of insincerity wherest I am still tossed about, guilty. And hushed, hushed always, like a trivial, parallel wind! As though my dear heart's bathed in sin and of a soul t'at is so thin So worthy not of thy soulfulness and sweet dreams of many happinesses. Ah, Vladimir! If only thou could knowest T'is thread of passion thou hath sowed and how my entirety seekest being loved By thee, and only by thee, o my rain! As thou art but king to my sneaky moon and my very own kingdom of stars Not him-not him, o t'is I entreat, albeit his wits hath been but to me so sweet. Still he be a mistake, ah, a chilly autumn mistake to me, from whom I didst just turn awake. Probably thou would hath loved me; imperishably and blindingly, until all thy superb charms and wit t'at wert but tortured and unbending shalt be left within me lit; and thus leaving our fiery souls entwined with winds t'at art even sweeter yet might be torturously everlasting. Vladimir, Vladimir, oh my only Vladimir! Thou altogether belongst with me; here, so unjustly yet heavenly And in our hands is cherished our love, o, so wickedly-but fatefully! How I longst to be thy lover, dearest- and be so comely as thy only flower; which ripens thickly in thy winter and blooms robustly, in thy summer.

0

Mar 20, 2013

Mar 20, 2013 at 7:07 AM UTC

stephanie-cynthia

Guilt

Aye, Vladimir, just before I met thee I hath been sure I hath loved him- no matter as queer as it may hath seemed! Thou knowest not, how much tears I hath shredded and noticest not, how t'eir vanity made me look dead! But why-why then didst thou appear- and wokest within me t'is secret fear- with understanding in thy eyes, and with a love t'at is to me so dear. Why-why t'en thou left me, left me again! Whenst I got to knowest thou but for a moment, ah, with not so much of an endearment- afforded ourselves only t'at streak of lovely, but still weak of too a bond, or any pact, of young novelty. And everything was corrupt As soon as thou re-released me into t'ese qualms of insincerity wherest I am still tossed about, guilty. And hushed, hushed always, like a trivial, parallel wind! As though my dear heart's bathed in sin and of a soul t'at is so thin So worthy not of thy soulfulness and sweet dreams of many happinesses. Ah, Vladimir! If only thou could knowest T'is thread of passion thou hath sowed and how my entirety seekest being loved By thee, and only by thee, o my rain! As thou art but king to my sneaky moon and my very own kingdom of stars Not him-not him, o t'is I entreat, albeit his wits hath been but to me so sweet. Still he be a mistake, ah, a chilly autumn mistake to me, from whom I didst just turn awake. Probably thou would hath loved me; imperishably and blindingly, until all thy superb charms and wit t'at wert but tortured and unbending shalt be left within me lit; and thus leaving our fiery souls entwined with winds t'at art even sweeter yet might be torturously everlasting. Vladimir, Vladimir, oh my only Vladimir! Thou altogether belongst with me; here, so unjustly yet heavenly And in our hands is cherished our love, o, so wickedly-but fatefully! How I longst to be thy lover, dearest- and be so comely as thy only flower; which ripens thickly in thy winter and blooms robustly, in thy summer.

52

I promised my PATI.. a chapati for breakfast A plain chapati I passionately learnt to make Oh.. What an impression I will make... A marvelous chapati and a glass of milk I will prepare with all my heart.. A SUPERB Chapati from a BIWI to her PATI.. I am a BAHU.... an obedient BAHU...to my SASU MAA.. Ohh and she will brag ... I am the best BAHU... The best in India if not in the world... I am so proud... What a chapati maker I am.. A super BIWI.. an obedient BAHU... I will make superbb.... chapati... The whole India will dance with me... Dance in my kitchen with me.... But my SASUR requested for a Masala Chapati And he wanted it for lunch... today for dinner tonight and for breakfast tomorrow.. An obedient Bahu... I am.... A super Biwi I am.. Ohhh ...I am no MASALA CHAPATI maker... Plain chapati... plain chapati thats what i learnt... I searched for a recipe... MASALA CHAPATi... Butter,Chilli and coriander powder.. I cook them all together... Cumin seeds, vegetablas and GARAM MASALA.. Ohh la la la.... here goes the chapati masala... Oppss... when everything is set.. My SALI comes to check.... AMMI JI.... AMMI JI... she called.. My MASALA CHAPATI is about to ready... My pati.. my sasu maa... my sasur and my Sali We all sit together.. My cooking smells good.. When MASALA CHAPATI is served.... They all smile and look at me... WHAT?? IS THIS MASALA CHAPATI???? And we all dance on the kitchen floor....

0

May 15, 2013

May 15, 2013 at 12:21 PM UTC

sharina-saad

MASALA CHAPATI.....

I promised my PATI.. a chapati for breakfast A plain chapati I passionately learnt to make Oh.. What an impression I will make... A marvelous chapati and a glass of milk I will prepare with all my heart.. A SUPERB Chapati from a BIWI to her PATI.. I am a BAHU.... an obedient BAHU...to my SASU MAA.. Ohh and she will brag ... I am the best BAHU... The best in India if not in the world... I am so proud... What a chapati maker I am.. A super BIWI.. an obedient BAHU... I will make superbb.... chapati... The whole India will dance with me... Dance in my kitchen with me.... But my SASUR requested for a Masala Chapati And he wanted it for lunch... today for dinner tonight and for breakfast tomorrow.. An obedient Bahu... I am.... A super Biwi I am.. Ohhh ...I am no MASALA CHAPATI maker... Plain chapati... plain chapati thats what i learnt... I searched for a recipe... MASALA CHAPATi... Butter,Chilli and coriander powder.. I cook them all together... Cumin seeds, vegetablas and GARAM MASALA.. Ohh la la la.... here goes the chapati masala... Oppss... when everything is set.. My SALI comes to check.... AMMI JI.... AMMI JI... she called.. My MASALA CHAPATI is about to ready... My pati.. my sasu maa... my sasur and my Sali We all sit together.. My cooking smells good.. When MASALA CHAPATI is served.... They all smile and look at me... WHAT?? IS THIS MASALA CHAPATI???? And we all dance on the kitchen floor....

36

Seeing you first thing in the morning is like looking through a kaleidoscope. I cant really tell what I'm looking at because my vision is so blurry, but-my god is it beautiful. I don't get to wake up to you as often as I'd like. But when I do, I look to my left, or to my right- depending on how much shifting I've done in the middle of the night- and I say.. "Oh goodness, this pillow looks like her." But then I realize that it is you. I had just forgotten where I am because waking up to you is so abnormal. Then- What comes next is the wave of nerves, and I mean WAVE OF NERVES- that comes over me when you purse your lips- trying not to smile back at me. I can't help- but to throw at you, an endless string of generic compliments- like- "You are, so beautiful" Or- "You look so good without makeup" But they aren't generic to me- Because they are true. But then I say something really ******* stupid. Like- "Your nails....... feel like.. nails" Ironically- Nails, is a word with a couple different meanings. Like- Fingernails. Hammer and nails. And like how I just nailed you. But hey- I put just as much time nailing you, as a man would, hammering nails into the beams of a house that he is building for his own family. Not that you took a really long time- Or I want to put a family inside you- But- You are a masterpiece. What I'm trying to say, Is that aside from your brilliant mental composure- Your thousands of beautiful blurry reflective faces- And your superb taste in men- Example being me... You are wonderful, And I look forward to building more houses with you in the future. We could have a castle with a mote. We can have a pet dragon. As long as I have light- And a thousand busted mirrors in a tube- I will be yours. Even if the kaleidoscope doesn't see that far. I will be yours.

0

May 23, 2014

May 23, 2014 at 8:45 PM UTC

quinton-horras-yard

Kaleidoscope

Seeing you first thing in the morning is like looking through a kaleidoscope. I cant really tell what I'm looking at because my vision is so blurry, but-my god is it beautiful. I don't get to wake up to you as often as I'd like. But when I do, I look to my left, or to my right- depending on how much shifting I've done in the middle of the night- and I say.. "Oh goodness, this pillow looks like her." But then I realize that it is you. I had just forgotten where I am because waking up to you is so abnormal. Then- What comes next is the wave of nerves, and I mean WAVE OF NERVES- that comes over me when you purse your lips- trying not to smile back at me. I can't help- but to throw at you, an endless string of generic compliments- like- "You are, so beautiful" Or- "You look so good without makeup" But they aren't generic to me- Because they are true. But then I say something really ******* stupid. Like- "Your nails....... feel like.. nails" Ironically- Nails, is a word with a couple different meanings. Like- Fingernails. Hammer and nails. And like how I just nailed you. But hey- I put just as much time nailing you, as a man would, hammering nails into the beams of a house that he is building for his own family. Not that you took a really long time- Or I want to put a family inside you- But- You are a masterpiece. What I'm trying to say, Is that aside from your brilliant mental composure- Your thousands of beautiful blurry reflective faces- And your superb taste in men- Example being me... You are wonderful, And I look forward to building more houses with you in the future. We could have a castle with a mote. We can have a pet dragon. As long as I have light- And a thousand busted mirrors in a tube- I will be yours. Even if the kaleidoscope doesn't see that far. I will be yours.

52

horns squawk rainforest avenues exoskeleton of cars arteries clogged with unlovely taxi cabs fat green fruit for sale five languages merge into a knot hisses kiss vowels kiwis apples pears black guys basketball debt rises like blood pressure stocks tumble but we walk brogues clop on concrete count brick after brick sun cascades over roof slates mind cracks in slabs (you say Monroe stood here) heat quivers men are dominoes suits for the office a funeral designer sneakers daddy paid for pigtails cheap thrills violet octagons on a stranger’s neck (behind the closed doors) today I drink purple water aubergine lips remind me of a Tuscany Superb list the names Houston Charlton Leroy Sullivan Perry Cornelia Dominick and Jane (ladders lead away from me close to you) and back again

0

Jun 21, 2014

Jun 21, 2014 at 12:24 PM UTC

reece-aj-chambers

Tuscany Superb

horns squawk rainforest avenues exoskeleton of cars arteries clogged with unlovely taxi cabs fat green fruit for sale five languages merge into a knot hisses kiss vowels kiwis apples pears black guys basketball debt rises like blood pressure stocks tumble but we walk brogues clop on concrete count brick after brick sun cascades over roof slates mind cracks in slabs (you say Monroe stood here) heat quivers men are dominoes suits for the office a funeral designer sneakers daddy paid for pigtails cheap thrills violet octagons on a stranger’s neck (behind the closed doors) today I drink purple water aubergine lips remind me of a Tuscany Superb list the names Houston Charlton Leroy Sullivan Perry Cornelia Dominick and Jane (ladders lead away from me close to you) and back again

48

Alexander K Opicho (Eldret, Kenya;[email protected]) Do you remember one era in Kenya? During the dark days of dictatorship When Daniel arap Moi Was the tyrannical president of Kenya And darkness of leadership Loomed like the dark clouds of el Niño When forty district commissioners Out of the total of forty two were kalenjins? Whose main work was to spy and terrorize As the people forlornly groaned under the heavy Yoke of state terror of tribal torment When the president claims that He was not aware of such tyranny, When we used to sing a lame poem Of jokoo! Jokoo! Jokoo! Jokoo! On empty stomachs with no hope of food No hope of jobs or even education Street children swelling on the street In total political nonchalance of arap Moi As he only gave free milk to his own kalenjin youths In Kabaraka schools, the Kabaraka school which was Overfunded by the poor tax payers money, Please President Uhuru Kenyatta as good as you are With your dear humane heart of Bantu conscience As you are armed to teeth with modern education **** sapiens Gentility and polished diplomacy Superb in quality of thought and supremacy of choices The government of Kenya is yours and the people of Kenya Are your political darlings, true bandwagons for ever Kindly listen and buy my poemetics, my dear president Remove Daniel Moi from the state house of Kenya, Let not Daniel Moi be your adviser Ignore him and embrace Kenyans For common future happiness Even if Daniel Moi is old, the truth is different He is not a good man, he is full of Machiavelli His full badness is measured in absurdity Of terribly and horrendously crashed *** crushed Testicles of poemcrats and political leaders Of Kenya of yore and today, Truth meted in When koigi wa wamwere became A permanent staff of kamiti maximum prison without pension Wangari Mathai beaten like an animal in a hunters trap Ngugi wa Thiong’o jobless and detained without trial Raila Amolo odinga’s testicles went missing He looks for them on daily circadian But once he nears their political pigeonhole Then elections of the times flops, O! Poor Odinga! President Uhuru Kenyatta with your suave intellect You won’t get a pretext to say that I was not aware or not informed Please dear darling of the people The people of Kenya in their 42 tribes Novate Moi with the people And your legacy will smile.

0

Jan 17, 2014

Jan 17, 2014 at 8:59 AM UTC

alexander-k-opicho

40 KALENJIN DISTRICT COMMISSIONERS OUT OF 42

Alexander K Opicho (Eldret, Kenya;[email protected]) Do you remember one era in Kenya? During the dark days of dictatorship When Daniel arap Moi Was the tyrannical president of Kenya And darkness of leadership Loomed like the dark clouds of el Niño When forty district commissioners Out of the total of forty two were kalenjins? Whose main work was to spy and terrorize As the people forlornly groaned under the heavy Yoke of state terror of tribal torment When the president claims that He was not aware of such tyranny, When we used to sing a lame poem Of jokoo! Jokoo! Jokoo! Jokoo! On empty stomachs with no hope of food No hope of jobs or even education Street children swelling on the street In total political nonchalance of arap Moi As he only gave free milk to his own kalenjin youths In Kabaraka schools, the Kabaraka school which was Overfunded by the poor tax payers money, Please President Uhuru Kenyatta as good as you are With your dear humane heart of Bantu conscience As you are armed to teeth with modern education **** sapiens Gentility and polished diplomacy Superb in quality of thought and supremacy of choices The government of Kenya is yours and the people of Kenya Are your political darlings, true bandwagons for ever Kindly listen and buy my poemetics, my dear president Remove Daniel Moi from the state house of Kenya, Let not Daniel Moi be your adviser Ignore him and embrace Kenyans For common future happiness Even if Daniel Moi is old, the truth is different He is not a good man, he is full of Machiavelli His full badness is measured in absurdity Of terribly and horrendously crashed *** crushed Testicles of poemcrats and political leaders Of Kenya of yore and today, Truth meted in When koigi wa wamwere became A permanent staff of kamiti maximum prison without pension Wangari Mathai beaten like an animal in a hunters trap Ngugi wa Thiong’o jobless and detained without trial Raila Amolo odinga’s testicles went missing He looks for them on daily circadian But once he nears their political pigeonhole Then elections of the times flops, O! Poor Odinga! President Uhuru Kenyatta with your suave intellect You won’t get a pretext to say that I was not aware or not informed Please dear darling of the people The people of Kenya in their 42 tribes Novate Moi with the people And your legacy will smile.

57

The revolutionary ardent Bordering on a prophet For democracy's advent, Up on grabbing The rein of power, With a superb Acrobatic bent, For a tyranny An example set For political thugs to emulate!

0

Aug 22, 2015

Aug 22, 2015 at 9:30 AM UTC

alem-hailu-gkristos

A 180 turn

The revolutionary ardent Bordering on a prophet For democracy's advent, Up on grabbing The rein of power, With a superb Acrobatic bent, For a tyranny An example set For political thugs to emulate!

10

On the dark side of the moon The light is always more blinding One may hear a patterned tune But Sol is no less binding In the deepest black remains a torrent Energy flows in all directions A pulsing eruption of active current The source of all of life's connections Forces infused in superb creation Energy powers our vivid dreams Seen in a bright fiery demonstration Found at backbone of cosmic seams And every blistering binary star Energy pumping from a quasar bazaar

0

Feb 21, 2014

Feb 21, 2014 at 1:45 PM UTC

Docstrange

Quasar Bazaar

On the dark side of the moon The light is always more blinding One may hear a patterned tune But Sol is no less binding In the deepest black remains a torrent Energy flows in all directions A pulsing eruption of active current The source of all of life's connections Forces infused in superb creation Energy powers our vivid dreams Seen in a bright fiery demonstration Found at backbone of cosmic seams And every blistering binary star Energy pumping from a quasar bazaar

14

superb partaking of private delicacies yet always keeping track of the skyline keeping senses alert, never fully falling I allow myself to get hurt each time that skyline changes not because I enjoy the pain but there's just something about you I'm not willing to lose, not that easily so, I swallow ******* and suppress the ego and take the whipping words readily whatever it takes there may come a relinquishing moment when I can just give and let it all flow free fall, like a kite almost but for now, when shadows may come and place arms round the heavens ****** sun rays from abode and kiss the air into a messy cloudburst and leave the sky taut with approaching footfalls of fiery thunder claps I take it all and want it no other way I accept the paradox fully the pattern has been set it is consistent this mega beautiful skyline over me hovers so discreet in plain sight yet blind to all I see the veins on the back of your hand, and blood veering sideways towards impossible thoughts yes a line upon the horizon tells me never fear a stringent fire walk simply tests the mettle coil discoveries in life confirm nobody is alone as deep and low as it gets sometimes the highs, oh! the highs outfly the roof take what you need from life now and from me yet take your sweet time until the day I see your eyes reflected in that skyline and your lamp beckoning on, into this frame your skyline tastes so good

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Dec 1, 2013

Dec 1, 2013 at 5:12 AM UTC

s-e-l

skyline

superb partaking of private delicacies yet always keeping track of the skyline keeping senses alert, never fully falling I allow myself to get hurt each time that skyline changes not because I enjoy the pain but there's just something about you I'm not willing to lose, not that easily so, I swallow ******* and suppress the ego and take the whipping words readily whatever it takes there may come a relinquishing moment when I can just give and let it all flow free fall, like a kite almost but for now, when shadows may come and place arms round the heavens ****** sun rays from abode and kiss the air into a messy cloudburst and leave the sky taut with approaching footfalls of fiery thunder claps I take it all and want it no other way I accept the paradox fully the pattern has been set it is consistent this mega beautiful skyline over me hovers so discreet in plain sight yet blind to all I see the veins on the back of your hand, and blood veering sideways towards impossible thoughts yes a line upon the horizon tells me never fear a stringent fire walk simply tests the mettle coil discoveries in life confirm nobody is alone as deep and low as it gets sometimes the highs, oh! the highs outfly the roof take what you need from life now and from me yet take your sweet time until the day I see your eyes reflected in that skyline and your lamp beckoning on, into this frame your skyline tastes so good

30

When I was little often I watched my mom in the kitchen working till late night kitchen was her cocoon kitchen was her heaven I had to pretend to be sick to take her out from there Once I caught her sobbing at the kitchen sink as a child I asked her so innocently "Did daddy make you cry" No darling she said She smiled and continued with dishes.. and left me with the question WHY? Years later.. and today I am a mother myself The tragedy in mom's kitchen still haunting my life watching my mom crying in her kitchen was not a good picture, not a good memory as a child not at all..... The kitchen was her castle In the warmth of her kitchen she made miracles…she created magic upon magic splendid recipes... superb dishes feeding her loved ones... with love but Today I realized how my mother released herself and that could have made her survive By working so hard in the kitchen By often hiding her despairs and sorrows Her kitchen was her secret hiding place every time she was hurt... when the world treated her so unfairly In the comfort of her Kitchen She consoled herself.... How did I realize this after so many many years? today for the very first time I cried myself at the kitchen sink In my very own cozy kitchen over a pile of dinner plates , almost breaking a glass so afraid to lose control... but my kitchen is heaven that saves me... as my tears are falling over the bubbles in the sink How I came to understand my mother's feelings... by standing there in the kitchen... remisniscing... and.. breathing this life feeling this life experiencing with life living with life.... as long as mothers are alive they live their life to share the laughter and joy of their husband and children to endure the pain and sorrows but hide them once in a while.... in mom's heavenly kitchen

0

Jun 11, 2013

Jun 11, 2013 at 1:42 PM UTC

sharina-saad

Mom's kitchen...

When I was little often I watched my mom in the kitchen working till late night kitchen was her cocoon kitchen was her heaven I had to pretend to be sick to take her out from there Once I caught her sobbing at the kitchen sink as a child I asked her so innocently "Did daddy make you cry" No darling she said She smiled and continued with dishes.. and left me with the question WHY? Years later.. and today I am a mother myself The tragedy in mom's kitchen still haunting my life watching my mom crying in her kitchen was not a good picture, not a good memory as a child not at all..... The kitchen was her castle In the warmth of her kitchen she made miracles…she created magic upon magic splendid recipes... superb dishes feeding her loved ones... with love but Today I realized how my mother released herself and that could have made her survive By working so hard in the kitchen By often hiding her despairs and sorrows Her kitchen was her secret hiding place every time she was hurt... when the world treated her so unfairly In the comfort of her Kitchen She consoled herself.... How did I realize this after so many many years? today for the very first time I cried myself at the kitchen sink In my very own cozy kitchen over a pile of dinner plates , almost breaking a glass so afraid to lose control... but my kitchen is heaven that saves me... as my tears are falling over the bubbles in the sink How I came to understand my mother's feelings... by standing there in the kitchen... remisniscing... and.. breathing this life feeling this life experiencing with life living with life.... as long as mothers are alive they live their life to share the laughter and joy of their husband and children to endure the pain and sorrows but hide them once in a while.... in mom's heavenly kitchen

58

. **••••••• •here lies the rema- ins• that once beat with superb lustre• caring not for worldly gains•on- ly undying hopes of pairing with another• but fate had tipped the scales, not in his favour •when it sent an oncoming car to share the same lane• driver was behind the wheel but alcohol had taken over• causing the car to swerve recklessly in the rain• the last few moments was punctuated with a deaf- ening sound•his day began not know- ing death was writ- ten from the start• so here li- es he, whose heart had thus been crowned • his love is immortalised with this tombstone as his heart• ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••**

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Nov 22, 2015

Nov 22, 2015 at 10:02 AM UTC

ryn

Tragic

. **••••••• •here lies the rema- ins• that once beat with superb lustre• caring not for worldly gains•on- ly undying hopes of pairing with another• but fate had tipped the scales, not in his favour •when it sent an oncoming car to share the same lane• driver was behind the wheel but alcohol had taken over• causing the car to swerve recklessly in the rain• the last few moments was punctuated with a deaf- ening sound•his day began not know- ing death was writ- ten from the start• so here li- es he, whose heart had thus been crowned • his love is immortalised with this tombstone as his heart• ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••**

27

I may not be gifted. But I have this insatiable urge to be great, magnificent, and talented. I want to inspire awe. I want to impress not only my peers, but most importantly myself. I was given an amazing opportunity to attend a superb university. While I believe I lucked out in my admission, I believe a blessed epoch in my life has just begun. I write this poem as a promise for the future. This goal I have is not an easy task. It will require years of incredibly hard work and dedication. I will work to achieve this. Even if I need to stay up all night and day testing the limits of my mind, it will all be worth it when I can look back and say: I did it.

0

Mar 24, 2014

Mar 24, 2014 at 12:28 AM UTC

joshuadublin

The Promise

I may not be gifted. But I have this insatiable urge to be great, magnificent, and talented. I want to inspire awe. I want to impress not only my peers, but most importantly myself. I was given an amazing opportunity to attend a superb university. While I believe I lucked out in my admission, I believe a blessed epoch in my life has just begun. I write this poem as a promise for the future. This goal I have is not an easy task. It will require years of incredibly hard work and dedication. I will work to achieve this. Even if I need to stay up all night and day testing the limits of my mind, it will all be worth it when I can look back and say: I did it.

20

Superb Owl sat in front of his TV. The more he ate, the more touchdowns he'd see. The more he drank, the better did his team. Let's all share Superb Owl's superb scheme!

0

Jan 30, 2017

Jan 30, 2017 at 12:57 PM UTC

darel-rex-finley

Superb Owl

Superb Owl sat in front of his TV. The more he ate, the more touchdowns he'd see. The more he drank, the better did his team. Let's all share Superb Owl's superb scheme!

4

I have the spirit of a champion with the heart of a lion idk why you can't speak truth why you gotta keep lien my wings are unseen but I believe I am flying inspiration through deep observation I'm on the rode to success I jus gotta be patient I want true love from a women not jus a quick ****** relation I'm talking deep intimate *** with hella Penetration's but an average man deserves an average chick I believe I'm superb that's why I don't have no chick kuz most of these girls are used to average **** that's quick and hella ready to jump ship. I man enough to say I want to cuddle and **** I want the long walks talking about absolute non sense I don't wanna spend money see I wanna spend time and let mine and your life fall heavily in line But nowadays you women don't deserve it you think I was put on this earth to be your servant No your my equal my whole other half and if you think I'm bout to lay back and let you run all over my *** that used to be me but I left him the past where I will leave your *** kuz just like you deserve love and want to be treated with respect don't think I don't deserve the same just kuz I'm a man! I am a champion and a champion deserves a champion!

0

Jul 30, 2014

Jul 30, 2014 at 12:04 AM UTC

idealpoetry

A champion

I have the spirit of a champion with the heart of a lion idk why you can't speak truth why you gotta keep lien my wings are unseen but I believe I am flying inspiration through deep observation I'm on the rode to success I jus gotta be patient I want true love from a women not jus a quick ****** relation I'm talking deep intimate *** with hella Penetration's but an average man deserves an average chick I believe I'm superb that's why I don't have no chick kuz most of these girls are used to average **** that's quick and hella ready to jump ship. I man enough to say I want to cuddle and **** I want the long walks talking about absolute non sense I don't wanna spend money see I wanna spend time and let mine and your life fall heavily in line But nowadays you women don't deserve it you think I was put on this earth to be your servant No your my equal my whole other half and if you think I'm bout to lay back and let you run all over my *** that used to be me but I left him the past where I will leave your *** kuz just like you deserve love and want to be treated with respect don't think I don't deserve the same just kuz I'm a man! I am a champion and a champion deserves a champion!

21

He was one of those guys who marry money. And you can grok that in any sense you desire. But be forewarned, my friend, I am well-versed in a multitude of Marry-For-Money manifestations. Take, for example, marrying the Boss' daughter. Come with me, for illustration's sake, Join me in one such dis-functional household: George & Martha's place on campus-- A classic Tudor-revival home, Ivied & plushly-appointed, A coveted faculty perk Which goes along with the gig. And the gag, for that matter. I speak, of course, of Edward Albee's Two perversely miserable humans, Married to each other, to wit: George & Martha, leading lives of Pubis-scratching desperation, in "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" She's the only daughter-- Daddy's precious jewel-- Only girl-child of the President Of a small, rural college. He's the middle-aged professor With no great pedagogic or research prowess. His working-class perspective, Viewing the quiet academic life to be A significant step up in genteel existence. Except--and there's the rub: Mere existence is a far cry from Living the good life Dan Draper & The rest of Satan's Mad Men minions Taught him to take for granted. So George & Martha, In terms of core values, Have little in common; More like opposites, in fact: His starvation diet as a child & Her helping out Mom at the Food Bank on Saturday mornings. It's those formative razzmatazz years, He lacked the behavior blueprint, The overwhelming fatigue of acting. He's perpetually memorizing lines, Practicing ****** expressions & Physical gestures & phrases. Guard up, another Oscar-worthy performance, Burton is superb & Elizabeth Taylor Showing us precisely why she is & Will continue to be revered as an actress. George knows she has his number. The thing about the play is the Intense malice the couple feel for each other. For the audience, an experience in stage drama Best classified as an intensely painful morality play. A good thing to remember: Live Theater Adds value to a community. Give generously, please! But I digress.

0

Aug 14, 2016

Aug 14, 2016 at 12:27 AM UTC

giuseppi-martino-buonaiuto

"Married to the Mob"

He was one of those guys who marry money. And you can grok that in any sense you desire. But be forewarned, my friend, I am well-versed in a multitude of Marry-For-Money manifestations. Take, for example, marrying the Boss' daughter. Come with me, for illustration's sake, Join me in one such dis-functional household: George & Martha's place on campus-- A classic Tudor-revival home, Ivied & plushly-appointed, A coveted faculty perk Which goes along with the gig. And the gag, for that matter. I speak, of course, of Edward Albee's Two perversely miserable humans, Married to each other, to wit: George & Martha, leading lives of Pubis-scratching desperation, in "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" She's the only daughter-- Daddy's precious jewel-- Only girl-child of the President Of a small, rural college. He's the middle-aged professor With no great pedagogic or research prowess. His working-class perspective, Viewing the quiet academic life to be A significant step up in genteel existence. Except--and there's the rub: Mere existence is a far cry from Living the good life Dan Draper & The rest of Satan's Mad Men minions Taught him to take for granted. So George & Martha, In terms of core values, Have little in common; More like opposites, in fact: His starvation diet as a child & Her helping out Mom at the Food Bank on Saturday mornings. It's those formative razzmatazz years, He lacked the behavior blueprint, The overwhelming fatigue of acting. He's perpetually memorizing lines, Practicing ****** expressions & Physical gestures & phrases. Guard up, another Oscar-worthy performance, Burton is superb & Elizabeth Taylor Showing us precisely why she is & Will continue to be revered as an actress. George knows she has his number. The thing about the play is the Intense malice the couple feel for each other. For the audience, an experience in stage drama Best classified as an intensely painful morality play. A good thing to remember: Live Theater Adds value to a community. Give generously, please! But I digress.

60

It was not my first intention Courting, that is Never my strongest of suits Known to closest my true emotions I let my colors speak for me The crispness of my whites Radiating pure innocence The warmth and joy of my yellows Welcoming My orange hints Full of desire and energy The subtleness of my pinks Portraying my delicacy and grace Be around a bouquet of me The sweetest thoughts of the most gentle sentiments Will arise alone from my aroma After having met my thorny stems You are rewarded by my silky texture My mesmerizing fragrance The spectrum of my colors entice I spread my own rainbow across the skies I tease, I flirt All to my liking However seducing Although said to be a natural I prefer to be picked Coat smooth as the most delicate of flowers Queen of the Garden Rosa is my name. Different needs call for different hues I am divine. I am romantic. The presence of me, pleasant The perfume I emit, calming Creative minds put me to good use A trail lines the hall Crimson flutters leave a path to your bedroom Delicately placed aloft the best of Egyptian cotton What better sight of affection to see? The flush of color to my cheeks when we meet The thumping of my hearts beat? Rose petals on the sheets? From sponge baths to massages Chocolate dipped scarlet strawberries Each affair we have is the most superb of quality My red appearance not the deepest of color But its beautiful elegance is the most sought after of shades A symbol of deep burning undying passion Signifying the most immortal dramatic love The Red Rose is The Rose of all roses. Rosa is my name.

0

Jul 21, 2014

Jul 21, 2014 at 8:43 PM UTC

PoeticArtiste

Queen of the Garden

It was not my first intention Courting, that is Never my strongest of suits Known to closest my true emotions I let my colors speak for me The crispness of my whites Radiating pure innocence The warmth and joy of my yellows Welcoming My orange hints Full of desire and energy The subtleness of my pinks Portraying my delicacy and grace Be around a bouquet of me The sweetest thoughts of the most gentle sentiments Will arise alone from my aroma After having met my thorny stems You are rewarded by my silky texture My mesmerizing fragrance The spectrum of my colors entice I spread my own rainbow across the skies I tease, I flirt All to my liking However seducing Although said to be a natural I prefer to be picked Coat smooth as the most delicate of flowers Queen of the Garden Rosa is my name. Different needs call for different hues I am divine. I am romantic. The presence of me, pleasant The perfume I emit, calming Creative minds put me to good use A trail lines the hall Crimson flutters leave a path to your bedroom Delicately placed aloft the best of Egyptian cotton What better sight of affection to see? The flush of color to my cheeks when we meet The thumping of my hearts beat? Rose petals on the sheets? From sponge baths to massages Chocolate dipped scarlet strawberries Each affair we have is the most superb of quality My red appearance not the deepest of color But its beautiful elegance is the most sought after of shades A symbol of deep burning undying passion Signifying the most immortal dramatic love The Red Rose is The Rose of all roses. Rosa is my name.

51