"tactful" poems
Excuse me Miss, the test results are back.
We’ve spoken to your family, and we are
Sad to say that you are numb.
You will start your treatment tomorrow.
I’m
So
Sorry
I’ve been numb for some weeks now
It started at my toes
It nibbled on my legs
It flirted with my head
Slowly but surely tiptoeing in
Numbness is a silent killer
It plays nice and deceives you
Creeping through my body
Then it took my heart
For numbness is a backstabber
It is not what it seems
It uses other emotions to find you
It is covered by fear, for they are good friends
It hides under sadness’s billowing cloak.
And it is smuggled through the heart’s border by anger
But now it’s in my heart
For the soldiers have come out of the Trojan horse
They pillage and take
For numbness is greedy
They start at interests and the hobbies
It makes them seem boring and not worth while
See numbness is tactful, precise, and deadly
It plays with your mind, and slowly eats away at your heart
Hallowing it out, emptying you
Numbness is always hungry
And now I don’t know what I have left that it could take.
Do not worry, for this illness you have, this plague, it is not deadly
And while the treatment we have prepared for you will not change you back
Because once numbness steals, It does not give back easily
It taints your mind, and like wine on a white tablecloth
It does not fade easily
Numbness scars the mind
It leaves its signature with a heart
You will not be who you used to be
You will be faded version of yourself
And a talkative young girl like your self should not be worried
For those who come into our hospital as vibrant and colorful as you
Don’t fade as much as the quieter ones
See you were stronger than them
Your mind did not give up as easily as theirs
But we are treating you early
And you will be fixed, not to worry
Our results of this treatment are stellar
See you will not be fully put back together
Just a little shattered
Not as broken
Mar 14, 2011
Mar 14, 2011 at 9:03 PM UTC
A pheasant found a sunflower,
And perched on the arch,
And munched,
A little every day at an early hour.
What a way to go -
Obscene remains ragged on the tall stalk,
Startling the tactful dying all around,
The soothing autumn sinking-away-in-a-glow -
A murdered man on show!
5.2k
Low lies Mr. Leopard
Locking eyes on his prey
Licking slowly his upper lip
It's antelope for dinner today
A yelp of pain carries across the land
One more antelope is dead in the sand
This hungry leopard feeds to his fill
Tearing apart the flesh of his tactful ****
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 6:55 PM UTC
She used to be your sun by day
And your moon at night
You never ran out of light
Your happy meal at the end of a long day
She never left your side
Not even for a single day
And when the night is deep
And you're short of sight
She became your extra eye
That kept you safe like a knight
She loved you with everything
She gave you everything
And gave up everything
Including her pride and sense of being
She gave you her heart
And offered her soul
But nothing she could ever give
Was ever enough to satisfy
Your perpetually gnawing greed and empty soul
You've lost that girl
Now you have to live
With this monster you created in her
You broke her fragile heart into a million pieces
And now you must make peace
And collect those broken pieces
And forget all about the beautiful morning kisses
Now she's nothing more
Than a collection of warning signs
And all the signals
You get in a danger zone
She's all the wrong turns you've ever made
And all the U-turns you never made
You ignited a spark within her
But that wasn't enough
You added gasoline to it in open air
A bonfire without stories
That's how lonely you left her
A bonfire that turned to a bushfire
She engulfs everything in her wake in flames
And you can't even take the blame
She's gone out of control
And you can't even call a fire brigade
She's the loss to every bet you've ever made
All the coins you've ever tossed
And she's all the lines you've ever crossed
And she's going to burn you
With the fire you started within her
Such is the beauty of a Goddess
You refused to see beyond her flaws
Now you're forced to see the beauty
She created out of them
And smell the fragrance
That oozes out of her pores
With somber elegance
And a tactful nonchalance
And embrace the fact
That you're not even worth a second chance
Perhaps you'll learn to find pleasure
In the mischief that lurks
In the dark sky of her beautiful eyes
And decipher the mystery in her smirk
But until then keep on scratching the surface because her heart is cold as ice.
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 2:58 AM UTC
India is the biggest democratic state
The voters always decide her fate
The fate of a political party depends on its popularity
The powerful and tactful party gets the majority
One party discusses the construction of Rama’s temple
Its political, hidden agenda is very simple
The other parties talk about secularity
It always tries to woo the considerable minority
The other leftist parties often talk about the poor
But they never get their votes for sure
Before the election liquor flows like a river
Voters get money notes in a beautiful cover
The luckiest party grabs the power
The elected members try to climb the tower
Corruption seems to be the order of the day
No part is likely to show the right way
In democracy, parties are meant
To be different. But that is not quite apparant
Feb 9, 2011
Feb 9, 2011 at 5:00 AM UTC
Black lagoon brain pools,
Drown me in our retrograde...
Long and tactful tentacles ...
To catch my anatomical....
Retracting my soul from your memory tubes.
Painting our moments in shades of black.
Disappearing phantom laughs...
And lucid nightmares follow me to sleep.
Ghostly appendages wrapping me tight.
Ensnared by his tragical hold,
Farewell snap shots are never enough.
Goodnight static dream tracer.
Your everywhere is no where now.
Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 4:50 PM UTC
(For G. H.)
Say, does that stupid earth
Where they have laid her,
Bind still her sullen mirth,
Mirth which betrayed her?
Do the lush grasses hold,
Greenly and glad,
That brittle-perfect gold
She alone had?
Smugly the common crew,
Over their knitting,
Mourn her -- as butchers do
Sheep-throats they're slitting!
She was my enemy,
One of the best of them.
Would she come back to me,
God **** the rest of them!
**** them, the flabby, fat,
Sleek little darlings!
We gave them *** for tat,
Snarlings for snarlings!
Squashy pomposities,
Shocked at our violence,
Let not one tactful hiss
Break her new silence!
Maids of antiquity,
Look well upon her;
Ice was her chastity,
Spotless her honor.
Neighbors, with ******* of snow,
Dames of much virtue,
How she could flame and glow!
Lord, how she hurt you!
She was a woman, and
Tender -- at times!
(Delicate was her hand)
One of her crimes!
Hair that strayed elfinly,
Lips red as haws,
You, with the ready lie,
Was that the cause?
Rest you, my enemy,
Slain without fault,
Life smacks but tastelessly
Lacking your salt!
Stuck in a bog whence naught
May catapult me,
Come from the grave, long-sought,
Come and insult me!
WE knew that sugared stuff
Poisoned the other;
Rough as the wind is rough,
Sister and brother!
Breathing the ether clear
Others forlorn have found --
Oh, for that peace austere
She and her scorn have found!
2.3k
Raw flesh drenched in alcohol
Burning numbing till paralyzed, keeps me still
Power you have over my being, keeps me fearing
Your presence destroys me, shatters me
Feeling naked, inadequate when my eyes see
My reflection's negation in you
Cannot hide anything when you expose all of me
Wounded animal beaten without avail
Knowing, proprietor of my pain
You don't understand my whimper, wail?
My blood being diluted by the sweat of your laborious efforts
Precociously tactful, inhumanly strangling my will
Ever-becoming antithesis to facades, fears, farces in me
Facing scalpels and clamps to my insecurities, my tactics, my pride
Leaving me open not caring if I'll die from exposure
Caring only that you're exposing the real me
I-nvoluntarily l-acerated, o-n the v-erge of e-nding u-ndone
Somberly Always Unsettling Leaving me bare
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 10:50 AM UTC
Idk,
Really
I don’t
What does one Ehhhssss
Due
I can smell a
Misanthrop samurai
Maybe a couple of Germans
Tactful eye suppose
He’s not allowed to say
Who is it, who’s my dad
His step father Joe
I’m praying for a king
Before during and after
I’m praying for him
Sep 9, 2025
Sep 9, 2025 at 12:28 PM UTC
I
Icy fingers wrap around
my legs and arms. They
sink their daggerlike nails
into my skin, and force
me to go to places
that I shouldn't be
Thick polluted smoke
enters my lungs, and
fills them with the
darkest tar. I cough
and spew out words
that I shouldn't say
Slimy tendrils slither
into my ears and wrap
around my brain. They
snake into the crevices
of the gray matter, and
force disturbing thoughts
to the surface of my mind
It's the Devil, my dear
who spits out poisonous
barbs that make you cry,
Not me.
It's the Devil, my love
who stares at you with
those cold red eyes,
Not me.
It's the Devil, mon cherie
who whispers sweet nothings
that always turn to cold lies,
Not me.
Don't you know I love you, babe?
II
Please forgive my insincerities
It's not me at all, you see
There's a devil controlling the things that I do
and wouldn't you know it, he's not fond of you
He made me take a gander of the lass with the cans
It was all him when I forgot our dinner plans
Don't blame me when I stumbled in drunk
He likes tequila, who would've thunk?
When our ********** session was somewhat abrupt?
He was the reason I was forced to erupt
When foreplay became no play, who else can I blame?
He's bad at back rubs, and we'll toss just the same
He's crass and uncaring and remarkably rude
He's insensitive, boorish and unimaginably lewd
He's not me, my dear, of that much I'm sure
I'm wonderful, loving, tactful, and pure
So the next time you're thinking of starting a row
for something I've done, or something I've blown
Take a deep breath and look into my eyes
and maybe catch a glimpse of the devil inside
Feb 2, 2012
Feb 2, 2012 at 10:16 PM UTC
"You're looking fit," she said, the words sliding off her tongue.
"Thanks. So are you."
It was a cold walk up to the oak door
and my nose was red from the wind.
Sun Meadow. That was her neighborhood.
A little optimistic for my taste.
Five, maybe six, people I graduated with lived on her street.
"Where are your parents?"
"Cayman Islands. They usually go somewhere tropical
after the holidays. I would've gone, but work... you know."
"Yup. No time for fun."
"You wanna smoke hookah?"
"Sure. What flavor?"
"Don't be silly; house mix, always."
She loved the "house mix."
It was a slightly overbearing concoction
of apple, banana, and melon flavored tobacco.
I ran my hand through my hair to dissolve the snow.
Her mom was an interior decorator, so I was surrounded
by obscure, obnoxious, and expensive trinkets from
God knows where.
I sat on a bar stool and watched her make the bowl.
Her moves had gone from graceful to inept
just as she had gone from goddess to **** in my mind.
She set the hookah on the bar and inhaled.
Then it was my turn.
It went on like that for five minutes or so
as she looked me up and down.
Every once in a while she would lick her lips
or lean forward to expose even just a centimeter more of her *******
"So who's the new ****
"Beg your pardon?"
"You heard me," she spat.
"My left or my right, depending on how many notes
I've taken that day."
"Ha ha, very funny. How long's that been the case?"
"A week or two. Maybe three," I quip.
"Restless yet?"
"That's all I've ever been."
Ashley was never tactful.
She showed her hand too fast, but she
bet so little it made no difference.
She was also never virginal.
People often romanticize their first time with stories
of secret escapes or innocent awkwardness.
I was never like that and Ashley appreciated the monstrous
control and possessiveness I wrapped around my *****
I took what I wanted, she told me.
She liked that, I guess.
She knew a couople girls I had been with--
they'd shared their "stories" with her.
Stories of how I'd ripped the innocence from them,
the thrill,
the wall slamming,
screaming,
cursing,
the painful entrance,
strength,
weakness,
and finally
the out-of-breath finish
where I left them feeling like rag dolls.
Or so I'm told.
She liked that.
Craved it, even.
So, I let her have it.
May 14, 2012
May 14, 2012 at 7:36 PM UTC
Ink and rabies flows in our veins. Copper cogs hold our eyes into place, and we can see the undulating liquors flowing like waters in a transparent waterbed, rolling back and forth with gravity.
Ink and rabies flows in our veins. They came with togetherness, in the same pen, passed along, gently, from one hand to another, a friendly enough gesture, cultured, combined, colluded into a single consciousness of tactful inks together, tactful links together, a single solvent.
They were once separate towns...separate people...until Radii Ink and Yuli Rab were together...
Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 1:12 PM UTC
Breath in with me, s l o w l y
The richness from the air
This damp stillness I've kept
This alabaster jar
Rank with the whisky-smell of rambling words
Or the leather aroma of
The most tactful stimulation
Let's not rob this moment with words
Your blue, wide eyes tell me enough
And your lavender (I'll imagine) scent
Cues to me your appreciation
That breaks the ruckus with stunning silence
And air full to excess with
Spice of vehement delight
Oct 27, 2012
Oct 27, 2012 at 4:05 PM UTC
Medical Technologist you will be by next year,
As you do your best part then success is near.
Realization of your life's dream is not impossible,
Zealous dedication is what you do to make it possible.
Act now be a keen diligent intern to claim your victory!
Dawn has sparked so make the most of the opportunity,
Accept the challenges don't quit fight all the negativity.
Winning is not easy to achieve as it requires determination,
Nobody but yourself alone can justify for your own action.
Plan for your future and do it with the highest attention,
Insure that whatever outcome will help realize your ambition.
Zest you have will inspire you to perform well with integrity,
Allow no negative vibes to degrade your courage and dignity.
React professionally to whatever trials that may come your way,
On whatever duties you do always follow the protocol don't sway.
Be tactful in your actions follow laboratory protocols,
Read and understand fully the procedures before using the tools.
Avoid mistakes in running the tests so you won't give false results,
To the patient's doctor such act is a taboo and you will get insults.
On to your internship my darling do your best and make us all proud.
Sep 28, 2018
Sep 28, 2018 at 12:47 AM UTC
my thoughts, so potent just before--
like fresh-pressed olive drops
that lingered, lipping from the fragrant spout--
now pass, diffuse atop an ocean vast.
i imagine willing it to be a pond,
not for its lesser size alone
but mostly for its calm,
reflective height; yet
these waves are
distort ruthlessness
of liquid dust
by slapping, tower-high
the central ocean rip-whirl tide:
and gone--
as Homer's heroes screaming as they drown,
deaf as oars but for their final gasps
of yearned-for clarity:
of nameless pride's Ithacan king
abrading lustful wrists
restrained to blind a god's son's single eye
by tentacles of twisting, tactful fate.
by threaded loom rethreaded
soon i see my salty self in suit
of sameness, tricking time
by indolence or theft--
from truth, from others' hearths--
the difference winks in bubbles on the cosmic shore...
foam so clean i grin to call it spume,
grin to brace the seabed to my algaed chest
in salinating crush of sand, of blood-sharp shell and rock,
in sungreen warmth of blue and life
in crashing sinus wince
i grit aegean nereids in my sneeze,
splay their formless sexing into pelvic scrapes
of quickened starbursts anciently reborn,
squeezed in pleasure tears and laughing drops--
as all pelagic ***** must
within the pressure of a world,
its breathing darkness spotted with transmuted sun,
expel itself in sensate gusts--
as octopodal spurting flings
in liquid ****** of purpose forth,
(or backwards, sideways, in and out)--
so too i think
and thinking, drown my ink
instead of drowning thinking in my ink
.
Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 11:11 PM UTC
Close your heavy eyes and picture for me, if you please,
The way your hair catches in the warm summer breeze,
The rose tint of your cheeks as if they are petals to breathe,
Your soft skin kin with the snow caps of the evergreen trees.
Your good, tired eyes so gentle and lush and strong forest full,
See a world so harsh, yet gaze upon it so steady, fierce and tactful.
Great lioness, with white teeth so sharp, prowl the preys so pitiful --
They cower in corners of deep darkness, dreaming of your downfall.
Open your easy emerald eyes and look as me, if you might,
To understand this is what I see so this is what I write:
Your charisma, your grace, your gentle laugh like a kite in flight,
Your electric vim, your vivid aura, your strive to force things right.
You’ve fire in your fathomless green eyes that challenges our sun,
You’re a phoenix, soaring through the sky like a bullet from a gun
Screaming C O M E A T M E at the top of your lungs.
How lucky am I to call you a friend, you strong and beautiful woman?
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 11:27 AM UTC
Most of the political world
needs to reevaluate on
how indifferent neutrality
and tactful compromise
does not amount to
equal measures
in a thriving democracy.
Mar 3, 2021
Mar 3, 2021 at 10:23 PM UTC
So come sit with me here,
Where the heavens meet the shore
And let the waters lick your feet.
And we'll sit and we'll talk,
You'll ask me again how I've been.
I just keep repeating "I'm Okay" - "I'll be fine."
And I just can't believe
That you believe me.
I must be a better liar than I thought.
I can still smell his scent on your words.
The lingering ache
Of all the lies that you were suckered by.
So here's to you and your bright baby blues.
They shine just like the stars tonight.
Just like the stars.
I'm so tired of talking in riddles,
Dropping hints and trying to be tactful.
So let me lay it out straight.
He was never good enough for you.
Never.
Mar 3, 2013
Mar 3, 2013 at 7:27 PM UTC
My tongue flicks
Absent mindedly
Discovering and rediscovering
The new sensation
Of a missing tooth
Or a kernel of food
wedged in my gums
Or a ****** cheek
Bit ferociously while chewing.
In my same manor
My thoughts stroke
the idea of you,
Feeling for any new details
i may have missed
My first time
across your surface.
a mark, wrinkling
beneath your eye
a small tattoo
above your elbow
a delicate crease
where your head
meets your neck.
Subtleties of self
are everything to me.
you hold your cigarette
between hits,
bent backwards between
thumb and middle finger
as if subconsciously,
you know
you’re damning yourself.
You hold your elbows
When you cross your arms
As though you are afraid,
Should you relax your grip
The contents of your chest
Will spill out before you
Like a toppled canister
Of produce remnants,
Juicy, sloppy, and sopping
But you speak quietly,
like a discarded bag
of shredded documents.
Rustling with partial importance
I try to piece together
your comments
almost as though your words
hang beneath the weight
of your breath
as an afterthought
of your exhalation.
I watch you
watch me,
calmly calculating
baiting conversations
with tactful insinuation
and later,
in deep rumination
they replay.
I select the moments
That fit the narrative
I've created,
rummaging through
until what I want
you to mean
is all I hear you say.
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 12:19 AM UTC
heart to heart connections,
warm embraces in cold moments,
reconciling our perspectives
& realigning each other’s focus.
—————————————————
tactful conversations,
with intentional devotion,
healing the deepest of wounds
& building bridges over oceans.
Mar 1, 2023
Mar 1, 2023 at 12:53 PM UTC
When complexities increase in number,
brashly jerking me from slumber,
When dilemma stares me in the face,
dragging me into the modern rat race,
I simply ask myself, what would Holmes do?
When there is a downpour of worries all at once,
forcing me to gaffe about and act like a dunce,
When diabolical questions pop up now and then,
making me ponder how and when,
I ask myself,what would Jeeves do?
If only Mr. Holmes were to be my guide,
and the inimitable Jeeves were by my side,
My remotest feelings to them I'd confide,
without having them rebuke or chide,
because Holmes and Jeeves would know what to do.
While Holmes would take the bull by its horns,
Jeeves would provide against obstacles and thorns,
Holmes would know what to say,
Jeeves would put in a tactful way,
because Holmes and Jeeves would know what to do.
So, when headaches and woes come in fleets,
I go in my mind to those London streets,
I consult them with a problem or two,
Because Holmes and Jeeves know exactly what to do.
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 6:09 AM UTC
If I had any amount of money for every time I've been called beautiful I'd be rich in every way except for honesty. You think that beauty is measured by the eye?
We are taught to open our mouths to put on a coats of chemicals redder then any blood I've spilled and nastier then any skin tone already given.
And yet it's advertised as beautiful.
Like for some reason, we weren't in the first place.
So what you're saying is the way I tuck my hair behind my ear is tactful.
That all my knowledge of Harry Potter isn't **** Well excuse my premature thoughts of the obvious ****** tension that Harry and Draco shared hidden between the lines of JK Rowlings novelty. My wonders of paint splattered jeans I put on display like calouges in a coffee shop, aren't they artful? Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
I mean, the magazines of models so skinny you could pick cheese with them. And the women just given birth going on weight watchers. As if strong thighs and meat on your bones is something to be ashamed of.
Maybe influence is something we have no control over but do you mean to tell me I am beautiful because my thighs don't touch and you can see my collar bone?
Well I can say the same for a little girl in Haiti. She lost her life because there was no food left after the farmers took her families last handful of soil. But at least she was beautiful right?
I want you to stop telling me I'm pretty because my eyes are a certain way. I want you to stop telling him he is ugly because has scars left over on his skin. And instead look at our tactics at life. I'll look at yours for a minute.
Every time you correct is a way of showing you care enough about the little turtle to make sure he not only gets up but never has to fall again. And the way you spread your happiness like rays of sunshine with so much to give.
The silence is just another way of saying I love you. So wrap your me up in your arms and hold me like you never want to let me go. Like I'm the last girl you'll ever say you want to grow old with.
Maybe this time when you look me in the eyes instead of weight scales and eyeliner streaked tears you'll see a girl with a heart full of hope.
A girl with hand me down sweaters and books about pretty girls sheltered never having stepped out of their castle.
So when I ask you if I'm beautiful hold me and tell me all my little quirks that make me an individual.
Jan 4, 2013
Jan 4, 2013 at 7:10 AM UTC
A person will make a mistake
And mistakes will create the persona.
A person will wear this fake
Guise to musk the odour.
The scent of an imperfect idea.
A spontaneous thought so mighty
As to command action without fear,
Yet atrophies in the absence of sovereignty.
The fearless becomes the fearsome;
Tactful and timid we conceive a new face.
From the angst of letting go; we succumb
To duality, tightening the noose
Around our inner gumption.
All this for an artificial reputation.
Jul 7, 2016
Jul 7, 2016 at 4:38 AM UTC
I am in love, and in love with him;
I'll love him t'night, under th' moonbeams;
And who shall say-t'at he's really mean?
As far as I know, he's funny and keen;
I am but trapped, between his West' worlds;
Too polite for poems; too tactful for words.
I'm alive no more, by my Eastern wings;
Only a poem at nights; but none on mornings.
I seekest only him thus, with such eyes so blue;
A promise faint still, but delights so true.
I loved his yesterday, and shall do his tomorrow;
I loveth him like t'at-within th' very here and now.
Ah, but shall he ever perfectly know-
T'at I singeth his songs, and painteth his rainbow?
And should t'is lasting love ever transform;
I too wouldst change, I'd take any form.
I may not be within his green leaves;
But I'll 'ways be t'ere, even in his tears.
I am to be th' queen within his throne;
And owneth his secret, intended for my eyes alone.
His skin is even brighter than t'is sunny day;
His blue eyes were mine in dreams, and th' whole of today.
I am th' lover of his goods, th' charms of his bads;
I loveth him happily, and sacredly; in flesh and in all my head.
And whenst my soul he began to tease,
All I ever wanted was to share his kiss;
And by him I feelest but peace,
No dire annoyance, just one secret bliss;
And 'tis his lips t'at shall be my taste;
What a love t'at groweth-but never is in haste!
Ah, and I wanteth to taste just his watery breath;
So let's just hope t'at t'is world hath no death-
At least no death before he is mine;
Th' one I hath yearnt for, th' one on my mind;
And perhaps love canst be direly ill;
But none canst presume aught; nor what I might feel.
And whenst but cometh th' shriekings of fall;
Still 'tis his voice, t'at I loveth at all.
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 12:40 PM UTC