"tinier" poems
To my Daddy on Father's Day
When I was young and small,
I was your little girl.
As I grew and grew,
I stayed your little girl.
Now, 18 years later,
I'm still your little girl.
When I am twenty,
Thirty,
Forty,
Fifty,
I will still be your little girl.
No matter where I go,
Or how old I grow,
I will still be,
Forever and always
Your little girl.
You were my cheerlearder,
Calling and whistling from the stands,
Since I was smaller and tinier
Than all those who played.
You were my coach,
Helping me and teaching me
Giving me confidence
Showing me what it meant to be an athlete.
I took what you taught me
And applied it to my life
Making me,
Forever and always
Your little girl.
You were my personal chef,
Teaching me to love the finer foods
And that cooking is an art.
Healthy and not
Food was to be treated specially
Cooked and baked just right.
Nothing has ever compared to what you have made.
Spoiled and exposed to the best
Making me,
Forever and always
Your little girl
You were my supporter,
When I was upset and had nowhere to turn.
You taught me to be tough
And to be strong.
You said I could do anything,
Be anything I wanted,
That being a girl made no difference.
You taught me to love myself,
To take care of myself
To defend and stand up for myself,
Making me,
Forever and always
Your little girl.
When I was small and tiny,
I was your little girl.
As I grew,
I remained you little girl.
Today
I am you little girl.
Tomorrow and the day after
I will be your little girl.
No matter where I go,
No matter how old I grow,
No matter where you are,
No matter how old you are,
I will
Forever and always
Be your little girl.
Happy Daddy's Day
I love you <3
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 12:02 AM UTC
An account of life
A breathe of air
An ounce of care
Inevitably to live
The plants grow
The water flows
As the wind slows
There is life everywhere
Flying and swimming
Crying and grinning
Crawling on my hand
Unending cycle
With touch it tickles
Surrounding filled infinites
Tinier than tiny
I am killing them all slowly
As I live.
Feb 28, 2019
Feb 28, 2019 at 1:33 AM UTC
All the once upon a time stories that end in happily ever after have the flawless handsome Prince charming who meets the sweetest princess or young maiden who becomes a princess after they marry (typically approximately 12 to 18 hours or so after they meet usually because the sweet young lady was rescued by the Prince because she was singing randomly and dancing around with woodland animals who do her laundry and she fell off of a tower or was attacked by some lady who literally has no job but spends her entire life just being evil for the sake of being evil and yet never starves to death despite the fact that her evil plots never actually allow her to aquire money or food of any sort.)
The girl is always polite
Everyone loves her
She usually has a waistline tinier than a flowerstem
And she sees the good in everyone
She is also gorgeous 100% of the time
Well I am NOT that girl
I can't alwaye be polite and perfect
I can't even be pretty
There are more people that hate me than there are people who can even tolerate me
I'm not the likable easy going type
I don't have a three inch waist (mainly because that is completely insane)
I can't find a way to like every person
I'm the jealous ugly stepsister Anastasia in Cinderella
I'm the wicked witch in the wizard of Oz
I'm the wolf in the three little pigs
I'm the hag in snow white and the seven dwarves
I'm not the princess in the story
But fortunately, I don't need to be because life is not a fairytale
And you don't need to be prince charming
Hell, you don't even need to be anything like the lists I make about what my dream guy should be like
Because really, since when do I know what I actually want?
I certainly am always wrong about what I need
So here's the deal
You love me for me, be loyal, care about me because of my soul first and my looks having nothing to do with it, you give me eternity,
And I promise you the same.
I don't need you to catch me when I fall off a tower
That doesn't really happen much
I need you to catch the little pieces of me when I fall apart because the emotions were all too much
I don't need a happily ever after
And you don't need to be prince charming
Because I am not a princess
Repost if you are not a princess either
Please comment I love to read interpretations of my work and really any other thoughts you may have! :)
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 1:19 AM UTC
everything seems to be changing
time after time
our broken pieces mend up
or we get more tinier
each day by day
but i'm still empty
and my unconsciousness is leading me
to a path where i'm losing my way
each day by day
i wonder
where will this go
will it hurt me anymore
and then life pats me on my shoulder
saying it will be okay
no stop lying
i know it's not
nothing in this life is easy
and we have to accept the truth sometimes
or we end up lying at ourselves
and being the one to cry
each day by day
i'm learning lessons
no1: don't trust anyone other than yourself
and i've made my limits between people
fought with many mad faces
but this is the truth
i'm all alone after all
and unwanted
in this world
and i know
i know
i
know
i am unwanted
by everyone
and the world
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 4:11 PM UTC
Busy,
no time to think, just work, progress, complete.
No room for thought.
So stop,
just think about what you're doing
not what you're doing
but what you're REALLY doing.
Don't you realize?
Wonder a moment,
how you work, how you speak, how you eat.
How does it work? DNA, it codes for proteins
it makes enzymes, that aid in reactions
that make you move, speak, think
You didn't even realize.
Amazing,
that's what we are. The potential in us is
ASTOUNDING
we are powered by tiny cells, with tinier things going on
but it's so small, we often forget how big it really is.
Cool eh?
Busy?
so stop, and just wonder a moment.
Isn't it amazing when you think about it?
The way you work, the way you move?
Now get busy.
Apr 16, 2013
Apr 16, 2013 at 2:41 PM UTC
I glance out of my driver’s side window
and see a boy
trudging miserably down the sidewalk
his essence radiating awkwardness
this long haired kid, maybe twelve years old
or just turned thirteen
wore hand me down boots that are too big for his feet,
ripped jeans, and a bookbag slung across his shoulder
in the dying days of July
whispering under his breath
maybe reciting poetry
or telling himself a story
And I honestly think
if time is fluid, like the oceans
like the monks say
then maybe I’m glancing over as a wave breaks
and I’m looking at myself
I couldn’t tell you how many times
I made that journey on foot
my heels throbbing, my legs begging to be broken
my hitchhiker’s thumb, had given up all hope at that point
I think about giving myself a ride
to wherever I may be going
but then I remember all the lessons I’ve learned
from time-travel movies
the one universal rule being not to meddle with the past
something about a butterfly’s wings flapping in Beijing
and a tsunami in New Orleans
or whatever
so, instead I honk my horn
and the traffic light turns green
I watch the boy, who might have been a younger me
in some distant past,
look on with curious anger as the cars pass
for a moment
then return to the story already in progress
he grows tinier and tinier
in my rear view mirror
until he is yesterday again
Jun 13, 2010
Jun 13, 2010 at 8:50 AM UTC
Packets of peace cordoned off by fences and barbed
wire, hooded lush in manicured fields.
Endless stream of labour crossing over water pikes:
hear, no see - river in the bush.
Emerges curved a mirror on a pole: three directions,
The three birds, tinier than my forefinger, eating grain.
Lisping away in the wood the warbler and the shrike.
Wild flower, pops out red from a corner
of the cultivated green: and I am...
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 11:37 PM UTC
i wonder
how we managed
to convince our hands
not to hold onto each other
when we said goodbye.
now, i'm writing
inside this flying can;
thinking this might be the closest
to a home.
these small seats,
with even smaller legs space.
these funny-shaped windows,
where all you can see are
white clouds,
and sporadically
some lights.
tiny houses,
with even tinier people.
and us,
tiny giants,
reading overpriced perfume catalogs,
listening to mispronounced english,
using disposable low-fidelity headphones,
inside low-light low-love low-cost
low-everything
airplanes.
Feb 23, 2021
Feb 23, 2021 at 9:35 AM UTC
I see these places that will remain
as strange as they are to me today.
I see these little people scattered on the streets.
I see them locked away in a world not their own.
This lonely expanse on this never ending piece of earth.
And I see these toy like cars and trucks.
Somehow they don’t belong together.
I try to guess (,to think)
what it feels like to live in such small world
and not on this huge earth.
I guess they don’t know what I see from here.
That life had a dead end.
And at that end
either
we can choose to be in tinier coffins
or
we can be a part of never ending sky
and this ever nourishing earth.
Feb 8, 2017
Feb 8, 2017 at 3:52 AM UTC
I miss you but I don't know you
And my name would puzzle you
Yet neither rise your curiousity
Yet you're addictive to me,
This sensation, this adversity,
Sweet, like some iridescent nectar gathered by hundreds of fairies in an instant,
From some magical forest forever showered by the gentle light of the golden hour in the distant...
Albeit the bitter pain afterwards instead,
When reality take back its stead,
Who are you? I don't know
This doesn't make any sense, that I know...
But... if only I can dream a bit longer, for I have dreamed far too long, I know...
But, if there is even a tinier than a speckle of dust of possibility,
In this whole world our universe of unpredictability, please...
I'd like to make our story a reality...
Dilly dally, ***** nilly, talks of dailies,
No roses or daisies,
Just two souls walking together,
In harmony parallel, cruising in life for forever
...
Jun 6, 2022
Jun 6, 2022 at 7:59 PM UTC
if i was tinier, i could float away, heavier, i could stand my ground. but until then, i'll just have to stick with being in a limbo between stuck in a ditch and too far gone.
you. you should be nothing to me but the paint chipping off the wall, the broken blind hanging on just barely, the glow in the dark sticker just peeling off the ceiling. but you're not. you are 'i love you' written in the notebook of mine that i keep on the shelf. you're gone too soon in the trail of my mind, you're i love you, i miss you, and 'what the heck is wrong with me?' what's wrong with me?
*
i grew up in the peach state
back in a small town
where nobody knew your name
unless you were someone
and i wasn't anyone
not anyone important anyway
ooh, take me back to the summer babe
ooh, 'cause everybody knew my name
when i was with you.
take me back, take me back to june
i grew up in a small house,
back in a small town,
where georgia was on your mind
unless you wanted to leave
half of us wanted to leave
leave old georgia behind
ooh, take me back to the summer babe
ooh, 'cause everybody knew my name
when i was with you.
take me back, take me back to june
*
the floor has started to puddle with my teenage angst that's dripping down the wall and it sticks to my con-clad feet and later to my fingers, and i think this mess is what i got myself into, but i can always get myself out.
Dec 11, 2016
Dec 11, 2016 at 3:09 PM UTC
*Though our galaxy is
tinier than the eye of a smallest ant
Yet while loving you
I had a perforation is my heart
So big to swallow millions of such galaxies
Since birth this hole
Was occluded by
learnings and knowledge
And remained unopened
Till I saw YOU - my LOVE!
Rare it is
To unclose this hole
But just a glimpse of yours
Did the trick...!
Where, O Beloved
Where, O Beloved
You acquired this MAGIC
To open this hole in my heart
That can **** in the entire universe
In an instant
Just by a single thought
of LOVING YOU?*
Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 1:20 AM UTC
i want to be smaller.
tiny, tinier, tiniest.
i want to be so small, that
i fit into a jar, and
can hide in the walls of
houses i never called
home,
maybe if i cut out some
stuffing, i will be satisfied.
my back
will slump forward and you
will see my spine, but i
will be smaller,
less open,
less
there..
.
and i will cease to exist,,,
almost
an empty shell of skin and
zipper, collapsed on the
floor, maybe my lungs will still
breathe.:
die, died, will die.
i want to be dead.
Jan 17, 2017
Jan 17, 2017 at 8:10 PM UTC
I was so relieved
when your confession
was much tinier
than what I was afraid of
now I am afraid
of the tiny
and relentless ways
it will pull us apart
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 12:26 AM UTC
a raft I did not build
-
a late entry
thunderstorm
-
a baby
waving around
another
baby’s
sock
-
the poverty I own
the poverty
you
-
a man
on all fours
a tinier
woman
rider
-
a kite’s shadow
on leave
-
expat nations
May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 11:35 AM UTC
Tears run down, riding my indentations, as this beautiful opportunity will probably never come.
Future happenings succeed the present situations, or is just blindly believed by some?
Stretched out 20km road looks tinier than my geometric scale,
As this tutor named TIME works day and night to make us fail,
But this time my gaze has risen, my hands' bones crack to put and end to this tale!
Be the game-changer dude, now is the time or never will it be,
If standing still suffocates you then boost your feet and flee.
Be the game-changer girl, you're no less than none,
Your agile feet have been frozen, so demolish the ice-cage and run!
Be the game-changer, to live something called life,
Go explore the vast forest away from the beehive.
And on every step of this complicated journey, will you face a danger,
Or kick it away and forward you move, TO BE THE GAME-CHANGER!!!
Oct 13, 2018
Oct 13, 2018 at 1:15 PM UTC
Senlin, walking beside us, swings his arms
And turns his head to look at walls and trees.
The wind comes whistling from shrill stars of winter,
The lights are jewels, black roots freeze.
'Did I, then, stretch from the bitter earth like these,
Reaching upward with slow and rigid pain
To seek, in another air, myself again?'
(Immense and solitary in a desert of rocks
Behold a bewildered oak
With white clouds screaming through its leafy brain.)
'Or was I the single ant, or tinier thing,
That crept from the rocks of buried time
And dedicated its holy life to climb
From atom to beetling atom, jagged grain to grain,
Patiently out of the darkness we call sleep
Into a hollow gigantic world of light
Thinking the sky to be its destined shell,
Hoping to fit it well!--'
The city dissolves about us, and its walls
Are mountains of rock cruelly carved by wind.
Sand streams down their wasting sides, sand
Mounts upward slowly about them: foot and hand
We crawl and bleed among them! Is this Senlin?
In the desert of Senlin must we live and die?
We hear the decay of rocks, the crash of boulders,
Snarling of sand on sand. 'Senlin!' we cry.
'Senlin!' again . . . Our shadows revolve in silence
Under the soulless brilliance of blue sky.
Yet we would say: there are no rocks at all,
Nor desert of sand . . . here by a city wall
White lights jewell the evening, black roots freeze,
And Senlin turns his head to look at trees.
956
there is rain and there is lightning and there are trees
and in one corner of the field there are
two women
in long skirts, white like your boy's face. they are picking
flowers just for you (for your hair): hydrangeas and lupines. in this dream you do not have a name, just a mouth, to swallow the rain, and the clouds that hang
overhead like dead kingfishers are heavy and black and swole
with more water. your clothes are not wet in this dream.
your skin is, your skin is pink and wet, looking the way it did
the day of your birth, but your clothes -- mother's old blue dress curled
carefully around your knees (the dress is too small -- mother
has always been so tiny, so much tinier than you are) -- are dry as your lips.
your stomach is churning, you are standing in this field you don't know,
and your stomach is churning as though you love a boy. you do
love a boy, but not like this. your boy is pale, your boy is quiet
as your childhood house, and so your love for him
is quiet as well, it never churns, but now your stomach is churning,
with rain, maybe, with this dream. you think about the boy,
but he is the wrong boy. you are ready to wake up.
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 4:51 PM UTC
On my bed,
The sheet climbing off the sides,
My cover a pile at my feet,
And a transparent stretch on my face
That blocks the light from within
But not without.
Tiny dots across the window
Glows like fireflies in the cone,
A dark, dark room.
(Rough edges.)
The world outside
A buzz of flies
Waiting to die,
You could use a gun
To shoot at them,
And they would thank you
For all the destruction,
The blood so little from them
You won't even have to wash them off.
(Is it even red?)
There is no glory
There is no pain
In the killing of lives
Tinier than our egos.
The buzz flows
Like the wind,
Or the air in the conch
The blood in your vessels.
If you don't put your ear next to it,
You won't even listen.
(Silence.)
I was twelve
Probably ten,
My brother held his breath
While he explained the Schrodinger's cat.
I listened the same,
I cannot and will not say
I understood it
Because you can never tell
At which age
Things became what they are now.
How can you tell, its your mind that grew
And not the thing itself?
(Questions.)
Jul 2, 2017
Jul 2, 2017 at 1:24 PM UTC
Walking through the forest route
I use to pick up stones, pointy as well as smooth
Stacked them in an infinte jar of memories
With every stone, sharing stories
My precious were of different colours
But it all looked the same to others
For my dreams, the jar was a shrine
Every stone was a memory my heart coudnt confine
Throughout my everyday walk
I searched for that special rock
Pearl, ruby, topaz or emerald
But the one not meant to be hurled
Little did I know about moments passing by
It's after everything when gone, we cry
Images flashing and nostalgia striking
Stones from my jar began smiling
Every stone was a special one
Reminding memories of someone
Childhood, youth ,adulthood
My jar contained everything it could
Life is a regret of letting go of some stones
Tinier than the memory it owns
All I need is a pool of such stones to dive
To bring my dead forgotten dreams alive
May 22, 2020
May 22, 2020 at 2:59 PM UTC
All along the beach
Tiny holes litter the sand
And inside each hole along this
Tiny strip of sand and tide
Live the tiny people
They are a simple people
Who walk swinging their tiny arms
And sometimes hold their tiny hands
So they can swing together
They love to take short walks along their holes
And leave behind a short trail of tiny footprints
They collect and dry grass
To weave tiny little hats for their tiny little heads
And go out into the water
At night they lie out on the sand and gaze up at the stars
And think about how these tiny dots
Make them seem even tinier
Their lives can be tremendous
When their tiny fires die down
They reach out
And reassure their love
Sometimes the day turns dark
And tiny drops of water fall from the ashen clouds
But for tiny people these create big floods
The dead are buried in tiny graves
And the living make even tinier drops of water
As if in a fit of irony
The wind is known to sweep away the tiny people
Like the smoke cut out of their tiny pipes
They never like to venture far from their holes
After many seasons
The tides rise far up the beach
And the tiny people are swept away
All are left are the tiny holes littering the sand
Staring at the sun as it passes over into the seas to sleep
Waiting for more tiny people to call them home
Sep 12, 2011
Sep 12, 2011 at 11:26 PM UTC
Yes , "if not for you"
Then comes all the banter
All of the glory
That we so undeservingly
deserved
I once surprised a waterbug (actually a roach only tinier) on my kitchen counter . I grabbed a handy jar and lid and scraped the pest into the jar intent on its oblivion . I left it on the counter intending to starve it to death . After a week had gone by it's exoskeleton turned white . All movement had stopped but it was still alive . To me it appeared it was in a state of meditation , motionless as if contemplating the most cosmic questions imaginable . This went on for another week before I began to respect the dignity of this amazing insect . Then I felt compassion and regret over what I had done so I put a drop of water in the jar to see what would happen . At first the insect remained motionless then went over to the water but stopped right at the edge and to me it appeared to give thanks before drinking any . I thought that was strange so I put a piece of bread in to see what would happen next . The same thing again happened . At first nothing and then the approach and stop and again the appearance of grace before consuming . I was so impressed I let it go after it had had its fill . Then I realized we are waterbugs compared to God and we are put into a jar here on Earth and we are starved for the words of God (Ye shall not live by bread alone but by every word that commeth from the mouth of God) and finally we are to give thanks for everything we receive in exchange for love , grace , forgiveness and ultimately life .
Feb 12, 2022
Feb 12, 2022 at 6:40 AM UTC
There is a woman,
so kind and great of heart,
who visits our church.
From Eastern Europe
she is tinier
than even the smallest Piaf.
When she sings
in praise and adoration of her Creator,
you can almost see
the pillars tremble
in harmony;
as her voice
totally and powerfully
pervades the innermost depths
of the entire congregation.
Oct 15, 2010
Oct 15, 2010 at 11:52 PM UTC
Really, the fear could get so real
You can almost feel its pulse
You want to agree with your heart beat
As the giants shout loud your name
Trembling seems like a voluntary action
Though you reject this certificate of weakness
They say “run today, fight tomorrow”
Wow, I hear “keep running loser”
Cos’ tomorrow will soon become today
See, pacing back and forth in tears doesn’t mean weakness
It means, you’re too smart not to sit down in it
Of a truth, these giants are bigger than the ‘you’ outside
But tinier than even the toes of the ‘Father’ inside
And knowing the depth of the Father’s love for you!
If I were you!
I’ll look up, call Daddy!!
Believe He heard me,
Put my faith in the sling of work,
Shoot my best, and leave the rest.
- David Omodunmiju
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 4:35 AM UTC