"tranquilising" poems - Hello Poetry

I think I like them, Dare I say 'love'? Is that allowed, Is that arrogant? The way they think The depths and dark Their endless analysis Their lone laugh. God, the eyes... Sometimes cheeky, Sometimes blank Stone-blue grief chasms Flecks of menacing. Im confronted And comforted. They stir me like I've stirred them, Both in survival And in good will. The way they talk with Their hands, freed, The way they cry Whenever the need. I like them, I think. Hearing their wit Tranquilising wisdom, I want more and more. Can you write me? Can you write me a poem?

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Sep 2, 2025

Sep 2, 2025 at 9:23 PM UTC

spicy-digits

Write Me

I think I like them, Dare I say 'love'? Is that allowed, Is that arrogant? The way they think The depths and dark Their endless analysis Their lone laugh. God, the eyes... Sometimes cheeky, Sometimes blank Stone-blue grief chasms Flecks of menacing. Im confronted And comforted. They stir me like I've stirred them, Both in survival And in good will. The way they talk with Their hands, freed, The way they cry Whenever the need. I like them, I think. Hearing their wit Tranquilising wisdom, I want more and more. Can you write me? Can you write me a poem?

29

Awaking to the noise of innocent birds quivering in the shelter of the falling water. I hear chilly raindrops drumming the surface of the windows, making the satisfaction of my warm bed one of which even poetic imagery cannot define. I relax to a heated glass of milk, in the company of a delicious homemade biscuit. Tranquilising on the sofa which I pleasantly sink into, whilst my lover’s gentle eyes make the room even warmer. The smell of the sizzling bacon, that is succulently frying in the kitchen, allows my mouth to water greater than my tummy rumbles. It was no less than I had expected on a Sunday morning. As I sink my anticipating teeth into the perfect sandwich, I briefly appreciate that countless people would lust for this lifestyle, that I hugely take for granted. I could pretend that I care. But I don’t.

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Nov 14, 2010

Nov 14, 2010 at 7:32 AM UTC

phoenix-becchio

The Satisfaction of A Rich Man, On A Rainy Day.

Awaking to the noise of innocent birds quivering in the shelter of the falling water. I hear chilly raindrops drumming the surface of the windows, making the satisfaction of my warm bed one of which even poetic imagery cannot define. I relax to a heated glass of milk, in the company of a delicious homemade biscuit. Tranquilising on the sofa which I pleasantly sink into, whilst my lover’s gentle eyes make the room even warmer. The smell of the sizzling bacon, that is succulently frying in the kitchen, allows my mouth to water greater than my tummy rumbles. It was no less than I had expected on a Sunday morning. As I sink my anticipating teeth into the perfect sandwich, I briefly appreciate that countless people would lust for this lifestyle, that I hugely take for granted. I could pretend that I care. But I don’t.

16

Green and mean, stench of nature Tiny glass rocks, pale smoke Combusted, inhaled, exhaled, ecstasy Pathways to another dimension. Sometimes bringing fear Mostly tranquilising Words flow even better When you are in my veins. Hearing the hidden Under your influence Feeling everything Sensory affluence. Becoming more accepted In this backward world A symbol of peace Mother nature's milk. Toyed with by Man Now mutated, stronger I long to stroke you As you stand in nature. Pass, pass, pass, pass You are mine alone And better with others Tender unassuming glory. I like to hold you Feel you crumble With sticky residue A plant, so humble.

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Feb 18, 2014

Feb 18, 2014 at 8:21 AM UTC

christopher-doyle

Interstellar bio-healer

Green and mean, stench of nature Tiny glass rocks, pale smoke Combusted, inhaled, exhaled, ecstasy Pathways to another dimension. Sometimes bringing fear Mostly tranquilising Words flow even better When you are in my veins. Hearing the hidden Under your influence Feeling everything Sensory affluence. Becoming more accepted In this backward world A symbol of peace Mother nature's milk. Toyed with by Man Now mutated, stronger I long to stroke you As you stand in nature. Pass, pass, pass, pass You are mine alone And better with others Tender unassuming glory. I like to hold you Feel you crumble With sticky residue A plant, so humble.

28

Silence an eery sound empty yet fills and surrounds Sometimes it's cold and terrifying at other times it's peaceful and tranquilising Silence not a sound sometimes it's lost sometimes it's found

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May 5, 2016

May 5, 2016 at 2:04 PM UTC

gray-rain

Silence

Silence an eery sound empty yet fills and surrounds Sometimes it's cold and terrifying at other times it's peaceful and tranquilising Silence not a sound sometimes it's lost sometimes it's found

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