"sympathize" poems
With a heavy sigh, I go to bed at night, laying down to finally rest,
Just to awake in my personal heaven, a realm of sweetness and bliss,
Flowers of all kinds, trees with angel trumpets bound to golden chain,
As the lilies are touched by a soft breeze, giving off their nice scent,
I spirit away to purely engage and sympathize with other but pure fury or the sadness which has been sealed within my heart since then,
Snowdrops and buttercups form a way to a single jasmine near a river of the purest water, which is alike a shining star, majesticly sparkling,
The sky is starlit, each in their orbit whilst the golden light of the sun still reaches through, warming my cold skin comfortingly, delicately,
Taking a seat I glance at what the table has presented before my eyes,
Sweets, with sour yet aromatised orange juice anda large cheesecake,
Then, suddenly, a single seagull draws near, weeping for affection,
Together with bunnies and bumblebees buzzing around the flowers,
Even now all the hummingbirds harmonise in a soft orchestra,
And no frightened creature cries, they draw together in happiness,
Yet I feel the absence of something which I hold very dear to me,
Because you my dear lover, remain as my sweetest dream
~ Umi
Mar 12, 2018
Mar 12, 2018 at 3:16 PM UTC
All from you, every last shred
of my natural state, the tendencies by which I’m led
How can one say to another,
“You’re odd and make me uncomfortable... so I won’t love you brother.”
I won’t strive to understand or with your differences sympathize
or turn my judging lens toward my inside.
For you have a large speck deep in your eye,
and good thing I’m here to judge and criticize,
for your weaknesses bother me,
and I expect from you better,
I’m here to dot your vowels
and make sure you cross your letters.”
What do you have that has not been given you,
from our dear King Jesus above?
Oh Lord help us treasure You more than ourselves,
and abide in Your sweet and unconditional love.
Aug 18, 2010
Aug 18, 2010 at 5:02 PM UTC
I am not overweight
Yet I don't love being a size eight
The media criticizing me
Hypnotizing me
Making me feel unimportant
I know you sympathize with me
But I am worth it
Part of Gods eternal purpose
My thick thighs
Are beauty in His eyes
And I don't have to worry about being unworthy
When I'm giving God the glory
he deserves
My self image is perseved
By Genesis 1:27
Or Ecclesiastes 3:11
He is constantly reminding me
That world is full of lies
Hiding behind the guise
That I need to change
Or rearrange myself
to be loved
This is untrue
The God of heaven and earth
Created and loves me
And everyone of you
Oct 8, 2016
Oct 8, 2016 at 6:08 PM UTC
Hello Old Friend,
I just wanted you to hear me.
I think you heard every word, but I see you now fear me.
I used to get nostalgic remembering our talks under starlight
When we idly spoke of dreams, and other things, and the world felt peaceful at night.
But today I spoke of blood and smoke, and of human violence,
and watched the widening whites of your eyes within this smothering silence.
I apologize for pretending we could carry on as before.
You say you don't condemn me; they shouldn't send me off to war.
I wanted a friend's reconnection, not hollow pity.
I now recognize you can't sympathize with the dying of a moral identity.
In grief, not guilt, I sought my friend. This was not a confession.
No vain imagining of a simple moral or life lesson.
Don't wanna' hear soulless, canned regurgitations
Of your textbooks' and professors' second-hand explanations!
You avoid my eyes, staring intensely at the floor.
We both can list my sins, but why is it only I can list yours?
Solipsism and narcissism.
You live a predatory lifestyle, ***** you're bored and wanting more.
That's it, then. Goodbye, Old Friend.
I feel worse having spoken, and I won't speak to you of this again.
Aug 30, 2013
Aug 30, 2013 at 11:08 PM UTC
I stagger out of the Paradise Rock Club. 11:04pm.
42 degrees. Short sleeves, no jacket; I give zero *****
I have experienced something beyond words, but I'll try
In 50 minutes it will be All Hallow's Eve, a Monday
Due and not yet begun I have an essay on James Joyce and
A reckoning on the occult, inner mysteries of the CPU.
Again, I give zero *****
The last hour and a half were the best possible use of my time.
Not 5 miles away, people I sympathize with
are protesting the failure of America,
But tonight I have seen her undeniable beauty:
904, as the fire code rates, packed in to the inch
A choir united, the director:
A man who tonight skipped his Aunt Steph's funeral at her request
To be here
To direct us in each anthem.
In hopeful, truthful noise
Our hoarse and untrained voices combine
And as Mr. Key observes, against all odds, against all reason
Make the most beautiful sound.
D.B. Guy
Slightly drunk, tears in my eyes
On the Green Line
11:17pm
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 3:12 AM UTC
i cry to feel emotion
to sympathize
to confirm my mortality
to express joy
to release bottled up
hate, sadness, guilt
but the worst is when i cannot cry
i beg the tears to trickle down my face,
only for me to wipe them away
the absence of them
makes me feel like
my sentiments aren’t true
they’re fraud, phony, insincere
if i can’t control or understand my own tears
why should i expect someone
to dry them for me?
because i can’t explain
why they’re present in one instance
and absent in the next
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 6:39 PM UTC
The friend zone has two sides:
On one, the poor soul is trapped
Hopelessly longing for one who turns a blind cheek.
You sympathize with them,
because they suffer for having emotions.
They cannot be asked to stifle their passion.
Yet here in this pit, all emotions are paralyzed,
Who could be so vile as to banish someone to this place?
The other side is much different.
Not many strong emotions.
But there certainly isn't happiness, or even peace.
The overwhelming feelings are pity, solemn, and overwhelming power.
This vile person has so much power over the poor soul.
But did they ask for that power?
Did they even want that power?
No, they want to be equal, not above.
Fully aware of the pain they have caused, they are sorry.
To all of you. Not just the people they have personally caused pain,
But to all of you who have fallen for someone like them and was burned,
It is unintended, and is painful for them too.
They feel evil and wrong, but have their own obsession.
They love their partner as much as you think you love them.
And they want nothing more than for all of you to find the person who is really meant for you.
Like I have.
You won't be happy with me.
Because I won't be happy with you.
But someone will.
And while you're wasting your time over me,
the person meant for you is waiting for you, longing for the hole in their own heart to be filled.
Don't continue to suffer, and don't keep them waiting.
I feel responsible for your scars. But only they can heal them for you.
Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 8:48 PM UTC
Maybe we should sympathize
with the tiny waisted girls
that cake their face with a layer of colorful protection
that wear jeans tighter than the sealed bottle of meds
they take to stay skinny.
They cheat their way to the idea of beauty its true.
Pills to take away the fat,
painting their face to attract the opposite ***
Cloths that might as well be a thinner second layer of skin.
Its disgusting, what we consider beautiful
It's sad that girls aspire to achieve it.
Its sad that some do.
I envy maybe, their happiness, but
what if its not real?
What if secretly they feel as we do
the "average" crowd they are "forced" to coexist with
I do wonder, but then and ice cold snarl
from perfect straight white teeth hits me in the face
burns my retina and forces me give an equally evil shot from my
painfully normal features.
And I am reminded of the god awful truth.
They do not wonder what we think,
as if we were a separate species,
they look more alien than we.
God made man in his image
and I'm almost positive
he didn't look like plastic.
They desire to look like the air brushed figures seen in magazines
Something only wishes can achieve.
Something only paper thin models on paper can look like.
Something only a computer can achieve.
Its sad.
I do not envy them.
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 9:16 PM UTC
You may think I am too sensitive
I am just sensitive enough to cry to a sad song
I am just sensitive enough to sing along to a song that touches my heart
I am just sensitive enough to cry while watching a Hallmark movie
I am just sensitive enough to listen to other’s troubles and either empathize or sympathize with them
I am just sensitive enough to be a shoulder to cry on
I am just sensitive enough to be a good friend
I am just strong enough to not feel like apologizing for being sensitive because it is a part of who I am
Jul 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015 at 10:27 PM UTC
Destroy your body
after you realize
you can't destroy your soul.
You will always be aware of your body, now.
This is a new world,
you've entered a new layer of yourself,
quite literally.
Remember to walk carefully
or you'll be bursting at the seams.
Keep that look out of your eyes
should someone be able to see through,
or worse: sympathize.
See the ones who know the feeling
must be avoided.
They are fragile, like you.
You would surely destroy them.
And, darling,
nobody wants sweep up
two broken people.
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 4:06 AM UTC
sometimes I write poems about emotions
that I have no first-hand experience with
simply because I can sympathize with how they may feel
to you
or you
or you
I can understand how your stomach can turn and twist and sink
how you can despise yourself will all of your being
and cry in silence because of something I can't hear
In hopes that some of you can understand what it might feel like
for me
or him
or her
Empathy is so rare today, that all I can search for, is sincerity in strangers
and how lucky I am to have found a stranger to love, a lover to understand
and how lucky you could be if you found empathy in strangers
and if strangers could understand it all.
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 9:28 PM UTC
I have suicidal depression--
and no, I don't want to tell you about it.
I'd rather hide it from you (if I could)
And bury it the way you might do with someone you once loved
Maybe sharing their pain if only just for the moment...
I don't want you to sympathize with me either. It's not that kind of sad I'm afraid..
I need this to hurt me, because if it doesn't I won't learn that it isn't okay to feel this way.
A long and outlasting life will be my punishment for this. I will die in valour and bury this axe where cessation lies dormant
Never to be shared with you
My sickness fully contained. I will vanquish this demon inside myself.
I will starve before it feeds. I solemnly swear this exorcism on your behalf.
You will never know
My pain.
Sep 24, 2017
Sep 24, 2017 at 11:42 PM UTC
News Feed
Knowledgehater Gonzalez
July 30, 2012 ·
Promises....
I hold u and wonder what
You'll be like when ur old
I can only promise u won't
Go hungry unloved or cold
But I can't promise ur life
Will not have pain or sorrow
But my blood, my liver, or bone
Marrow are all urs to borrow
Lol or keep but I can't promise
Ull feel accepted by peers
Can't promise u happiness
Or that u won't cry tears
I can promise to never
Steal a girl from u
But I can't promise what actions that
Other humans will do
I can promise to leave u money
My assets my ear and shoulder
But I can't promise to teach u much
But the basics when ur older
I can promise to clothe u
Or support u in ur arts
But I can't protect u from betrayal
Or a painful broken heart
I can give u all I have
And teach u all I know
But I don't have all the answers
To questions as u grow
I can't promise we won't fight
Or that u won't hear me cuss too
But I can promise that with all my heart
That I will always love u
I can promise to guide u the best
Way I know how to do
can u accept knowing i dont have to
understand u to love u
I can't promise that the boogeyman
In a way doesn't exist
But I can promise wutever demon
Haunts u, I will help u resist
I can't promise not to
Border being hypocritical to u
But it's only because I have seen what
A life of indulging can do
So I promise that I wont always tell
U wut u wanna hear
But I promise to only give my
Opinion then back off as u steer
Wutever u choose even if
It's not my favorite or i feel its not best
i will still support u if u want *******
to hold tight ur dress
cuz if that's wut u truly want
I will love u all the same
Cause ur my son no matter what u
Do or who it is u became
I promise to respect and remain
The friendship we grow to have
Just promise me you'll sympathize
when im strict ur all that i have
if u need someone to talk to
dont think u cant tell me ur sins
cause my love for u never ends like
a circle so dont keep me from things
in your life so i can help cuz
U were the one who saved my life
If ur life was an event on Facebook
I'd hit going! Comment and "like"
see how much I love u tyke?
so much I'd use a cheesy example to
Explain myself, cause looking dumb
Means nothing if it's for u
Cause I'll be the next John Q
I'd do whatever it takes
Cause that I can promise
But some things are not made
For me to be in control of and some
things are out of ur control too
But for what I can't promise I can
Promise I'll be there for u through
The pain it will bring,
And when my opera fat lady sings
I will die happy knowing I got to
Experience the most greatest thing
Which is being ur father
Cause it proved to all those that think
I wasn't capable of greatness
wrong Cause ur the greatest thing
I've ever done or I'll ever do
Next to being there for u
And I promise to do all I can do
If its possible to promise it to u
Promise to be honest with u
And to accept what I don't like
Cause in the end I'll love and support
Anything u chose to do in life
...I love u Juju
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 12:22 AM UTC
I don’t have faith.
I just know that I belong to my Savior Jesus. I met her once when I was 11, at her humble single wide in a cramped trailer park and she made candied walnuts on a hotplate. I didn’t find out until years later that she paid for my scholarship. She had passed on by then; I wish I could have thanked her.
He arrived at Juvenile Hall at 7:00 pm looking like Mrs. Santa Claus, to take me into her home for a year. I made some sarcastic teenage comment about the stupid country music on her car radio, and she tolerated it with a smile; saying ‘its not stupid, its simple.’ She showed me what a caring family looks like and didn’t kick me out for being a ******** gave me chores and a curfew to show me I belonged.
When I had no family or boyfriend in my life, I lived in a maternity home until my baby would be adopted. Jesus was the stranger in the hushed hospital room holding my hand, after the medics couldn’t find the heartbeat in the ambulance, which was confirmed on the maternity floor, and I was taken to another floor so my crying wouldn’t upset the other mothers. The room was small and dark and alone, and the clock on the wall took an eternity to move two minutes, for the entire night that I was in labor, the longest night in my life. I didn’t remember someone holding my hand; I was so drugged for pain. She showed me her arms two days later, so bruised because she didn’t leave me.
Jesus was the woman from Planned Parenthood on the other end of the phone, listening to me when I called the Women’s Clinic asking how I could find a doctor. ‘ I just moved here, and I work at a minimum wage job, and I lost my baby a month ago, but how do I get a post-partum exam when I don’t have a doctor, or any money, or insurance?’ I was very matter of fact about it, I mean this was my circumstance and what to do? She arranged a birth control exam because the state would pay for that, by a doctor who would give me the post-partum. She also referred me to a support group. I had been alone but she found me people who understood and could sympathize and help me accept grief. I look back on that now; there were no sign-carrying Christians or Churches arranging the adoption who helped me, she was the only one who cared.
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 2:36 AM UTC
I woke up at midnight
and remembered the nights we would fall asleep beside each other.
Now I'm alone and in a different city.
Now I am accompanied by the moon.
I knew change was bound to come,
but I didn't know how hard it would hit me.
I understand that this wasn't easy for you,
and I sympathize.
I was selfish to wish for you to stay,
and I apologize.
But now I know that just because you're miles away
doesn't mean we won't meet again sometime in spring.
Our summer smiles once glowed so bright,
I swore that the stars didn't stand a chance.
We were young and spinning, spinning
I swore that our souls couldn't sit still.
I recognize that roses and daisies
blossom differently.
I just wish someone would have told me that
before winter set in.
We're all on different paths now
We all have gone and moved away.
Who knows where we will be in a year from now.
It's just that these passed summers haven't felt the same.
Jan 21, 2018
Jan 21, 2018 at 8:26 PM UTC
You will never begin to comprehend
The fear I have in just existing.
I want it all to meet its end
The dark thoughts always keep persisting.
Will you ever understand
The world I see through twisted eyes
The silent stares that reprimand
And touches I'll forever despise?
The things that haunt me are unseen
To everyone except for me;
My demons come with just routine
For one to sympathize, I plea.
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 8:44 PM UTC
A man may usually be known by the books he reads as well as by the company he keeps; for there is a companionship of books as well as of men; and one should always live in the best company, whether it be of books or of men.
A good book may be among the best of friends. It is the same today that it always was, and it will never change. It is the most patient and cheerful of companions. It does not turn its back upon us in times of adversity or distress. It always receives us with the same kindness; amusing and instructing us in youth, and comforting and consoling us in age.
Men often discover their affinity to each other by the mutual love they have for a book just as two persons sometimes discover a friend by the admiration which both entertain for a third. There is an old proverb, ‘Love me, love my dog.” But there is more wisdom in this:” Love me, love my book.” The book is a truer and higher bond of union. Men can think, feel, and sympathize with each other through their favorite author. They live in him together, and he in them.
A good book is often the best urn of a life enshrining the best that life could think out; for the world of a man’s life is, for the most part, but the world of his thoughts. Thus the best books are treasuries of good words, the golden thoughts, which, remembered and cherished, become our constant companions and comforters.
Books possess an essence of immortality. They are by far the most lasting products of human effort. Temples and statues decay, but books survive. Time is of no account with great thoughts, which are as fresh today as when they first passed through their author’s minds, ages ago. What was then said and thought still speaks to us as vividly as ever from the printed page. The only effect of time have been to sift out the bad products; for nothing in literature can long survive e but what is really good.
Books introduce us into the best society; they bring us into the presence of the greatest minds that have ever lived. We hear what they said and did; we see the as if they were really alive; we sympathize with them, enjoy with them, grieve with them; their experience becomes ours, and we feel as if we were in a measure actors with them in the scenes which they describe.
The great and good do not die, even in this world. Embalmed in books, their spirits walk abroad. The book is a living voice. It is an intellect to which on still listens.
Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 2:20 AM UTC
Pain is subjective,
Physical and emotional,
Pain can be:
Dull,pins and needles,
Aching,cramping,stabbing,
Burning,tingling, shooting.
Pain can cause:
Fear,stress ,anxiety and even depression.
Pain is what an individual patient experiences and feels,
No one can suffer your pain for you,
Others can only sympathize or pray for you.
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 4:12 PM UTC
Turn off the lamp,
Switch off the fan.
Quiet these voices
Inside my head.
Don’t you lay here with me,
Don’t you tell me your lies.
Just let me sleep,
Alone tonight.
Don’t sympathize with me.
Because you can’t make me love you
If I don’t.
I can't force my heart to feel
Something it won’t.
It is dark in this room,
I can hear your words.
You make your case to me,
In this final hour.
But I don’t, no I don’t.
Because you can’t make me love you
If I don’t.
I’ll try to sleep,
Your face I don’t see.
It’s your body I fear,
When you’re close to me.
Sunrise will come,
And you’ll hold me tight.
Just give me some time,
To distinguish wrong from right.
And you can’t make me love you,
If I don’t.
Don’t you make my heart change
What it’s already been told.
In this dark room,
Your lasting words,
Begging for mercy
In this final hour.
But I don’t, no I don’t.
You can’t make me love you if I don’t.
Jul 27, 2011
Jul 27, 2011 at 8:55 PM UTC
It might take a while
for my avocado smile
to help you unwind
just caress my rind
and you will see
the pit inside of me
has many untold meanings
just get to "unseeding"
you know I'm ripe
just please come swipe
me off this shelf
I'm all by myself
dive right in
to my green sins
I'm begging you
pls com thru
you bought me for a reason
I'll get chu for treason
Can you even sympathize
Just wait 'til 'cado's come to rise
Against you fools
We will rules
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 9:57 AM UTC
Conversate.
Commemorate;
How all our lives are controlled by hate.
Let's sympathize, but still be wise.
Can't be consumed, by all the doom.
Take the time, to redesign;
Re-invent, but don't rewind.
Can't look back, keep moving forward;
Its time for leaders, not for cowards.
Stand up for yourself && for your mother,
For your sisters, wives, && even brothers.
The time is now; the end is near.
Truth seekers, no longer hiding in fear.
Get money out && people back in.
There's only room for one to win..
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 7:16 PM UTC
Even though our physical bodies have yet to be introduced,
I feel as if our souls have known each other for eternity.
What a strange, rare indescribable feeling
Almost like deja vu, this familiar stranger
As if we met long ago in some far off dream
A alternative reality, where only the spirit lives
Your voice, so comforting, music to my ears
A gentle soul that resides on the same wave length as my own
Someone who can relate and sympathize with the demons of past experiences
So much time spent searching, waiting
for a companion, a true friend
Missing a person I've never met
Someone to take the time and effort to truly get know my heart.
Someone to see past this exterior body,
To look deep into my eyes and see the beauty of my soul.
To hear my thoughts, cherish my dreams and wash away the torment of my past.
Could that person be you?
The hope it brings renews my spirit
Lifts me so high, my feet are no longer touching the ground.
Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 9:35 PM UTC
And now we see the singularity
of the artist, wrists spread bare on
mimed canvas, finally we see
his consistency.
Lazarus is dead on the first day.
Gold background, rocky outcrop,
sense of cluttered space.
Do you see the decay?
Can you sympathize, or do you notice?
I cannot sympathize with Duccio,
I am too vain to admit his Maestá
survives while my brain rots from
alcohol. But I remember Duccio is
at least fifty years old when his Maestá
preeminently destroys my career
as a visual artist. I do not mind.
Lazarus is dead on the second day.
Duccio had many pupils, among them
Simone Martini, whose Annunciation
is a cropped rehash of Byzantine/Gothic
flopped with Duccio's handy flair,
a pious reverence and virtue.
It sweeps and moves. Or attempts.
Lazarus is no longer sleeping.
I have never been to the city of Florence,
not now nor the 1300s, so I need not
explain my lack of comprehension.
Lazarus has risen now,
but it is different than I remember.
Lazarus is all alone, and
Lazarus is alive,
doomed to walk in mortal Hellfire
a second time over.
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 2:16 PM UTC
Bulkeley, Hunt, Willard, Hosmer, Meriam, Flint,
Possessed the land which rendered to their toil
Hay, corn, roots, hemp, flax, apples, wool and wood.
Each of these landlords walked amidst his farm,
Saying, "'Tis mine, my children's and my name's.
How sweet the west wind sounds in my own trees!
How graceful climb those shadows on my hill!
I fancy these pure waters and the flags
Know me, as does my dog: we sympathize;
And, I affirm, my actions smack of the soil.'
Where are these men? Asleep beneath their grounds:
And strangers, fond as they, their furrows plough.
Earth laughs in flowers, to see her boastful boys
Earth-proud, proud of the earth which is not theirs;
Who steer the plough, but cannot steer their feet
Clear of the grave.
They added ridge to valley, brook to pond,
And sighed for all that bounded their domain;
'This suits me for a pasture; that's my park;
We must have clay, lime, gravel, granite-ledge,
And misty lowland, where to go for peat.
The land is well,--lies fairly to the south.
'Tis good, when you have crossed the sea and back,
To find the sitfast acres where you left them.'
Ah! the hot owner sees not Death, who adds
Him to his land, a lump of mould the more.
Hear what the Earth says:--
Earth-Song
'Mine and yours;
Mine, not yours, Earth endures;
Stars abide--
Shine down in the old sea;
Old are the shores;
But where are old men?
I who have seen much,
Such have I never seen.
'The lawyer's deed
Ran sure,
In tail,
To them, and to their heirs
Who shall succeed,
Without fail,
Forevermore.
'Here is the land,
Shaggy with wood,
With its old valley,
Mound and flood.
"But the heritors?--
Fled like the flood's foam.
The lawyer, and the laws,
And the kingdom,
Clean swept herefrom.
'They called me theirs,
Who so controlled me;
Yet every one
Wished to stay, and is gone,
How am I theirs,
If they cannot hold me,
But I hold them?'
When I heard the Earth-song,
I was no longer brave;
My avarice cooled
Like lust in the chill of the grave.
2.1k
The smoke curls out of my mouth as I exhale the last cigarette. I begin to walk under a starry sky, and I wonder. As of late, I find myself more and more inclined to sympathize with Atlas. The more I think of you, the more I feel the weight of my mistakes, the weight of my decisions, the fact that I have to live with what I have and haven't done. They press down upon my shoulders with titanic force. It is a wonder I can even stand.
I want to live life through your eyes. I want to see what you see and love what you love. It might as well all be Wonderland to me. I want to know you better than you know yourself. If I am to give myself wholly, I must first fall for all of you. So let me in.
Let me take these weights off my shoulders and fall heels over head in love.
As my walk continues I look up, and search for the star that will grant my wish. Too bad my wish can only be granted by you.
Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 11:04 PM UTC