"uncertainties" poems
Umm, the presence and scent of a man
Magnetic attraction where his feet stands
His natural body charismatic aroma
Element of charms, seeping to awaken a woman out a sensual coma
Is it his eyes, the soul behind his life’s mysteries
Flirtation in his smile, tells me he has an undercover ****** history
It is his nose that smells out my charms
An enticing deep baritone voice, his spoken words, which turns me on
Is it the erratic heartbeat he has for a woman, his passionate relent
Stealing my breath, as he tenderly seals my lips in an impassioned moment of content
The strength in his biceps
His triceps
Strong, yet such comforting arms
An epitome of steel, circled around a woman in winter life’s storms
In the cold of night, his body providing your heated warmth
His chest, a hard pillow to tell your doubts, your uncertainties, your fears
Pulling you closer onto it, his reassuring words eradicating your tears
His intellectual mind to think as a man
A stimulating, slam bam and thank you ma’am, or your personal grand slam
His weakening love, taking your body beyond the stars
Woman from Venus, my handsome Man for Mars
His groin, and his family jewels from which it springs forth
Erected compass of his wand now pointing North
A woman’s reservation to tease, please, stroke, or allow it to choke
His loud murmurs shadowing your moans, echoing in the wind
**** I love the presence of men, and his undulated carnal sins
From the first taste of honey dipped Butter *** me
As his giving oral fixation is traveling free
Freeing the elixir of juices that deems to flee
His hairy legs as he stands to lift my weight
In the shower, no wait, as I anticipate
Hooking my twerking bait
His physique in general…Oh, God thank you
Without the scent of a man, we women would not know what to do
Your presence to a woman is our earthly food
Our je ne sais quoi for our every ****** mood
Rather you are standing, lying still, or upside down
The blissful 69 number conquered as we’re fooling around
My Dream Weaver
My distance heartbeat receiver
His dripping sweat
Droplets to my skin have been met
The presence and scent of a man holds me throughout the night as our eyes finally rest
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 10:00 AM UTC
I, a woman of letters, have been waiting for you, a man of numbers. I’ve been fantasizing of the day when you would deliver at the porch of my heart your algebraic equation. The x’s and y’s merged systematically with all the symbols, forming an indelibly inked pattern that would finally make sense. I have been waiting and hoping and praying, but all I’ve got so far are your invalid equations, the confusion, the uncertainties, the unsolvable mathematical sentence that I want so desperately unscrambled. How can you not, in your genius, find the right equation, even as I now try to draft a coherent verse?
for j.e.
013115
Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 11:03 AM UTC
Anom o ly
Non-named, never imagined much less realized
The left hand can't know what the right is doing,
it's a brain matter, grey area, may be a way to
imagine your unique. task, yours, not doable from here
We can do things as us that we never imagine alone.
Is there a need to negate, wait, think,
must one do any act?
Now, I see, emulating Socrates is thought easier than
emulating Jesus. Christ, you know that ain't easy, eh?
Death is the friend of being. Things change from time to time
but, you know knowledge grows in two directions,
the dark part is not evil.
evil is as evil does. The roots that ever live in the earth,
those roots are required, requirements.
Left brain uses the right hand. Don't tell the left-hand
that nearly all it's skill in serving
and being used right,
is used up by the other side.
Right or wrong, is not a chiral question, nor is good or bad. ******** Phillips's head screws with a butter knife is wrong.
It can be done right, but not if you turn it the wrong way.
Drawing on the right side of my brain has always symbolized a crossroads experience, in my mind.
I mean I draw, realistically, with my right hand, left brain.
Maybe, brains are no easier to analyze than time in an immaterial medium of messaging.
I am certain life wins.
Meaning everything you think life means.
Do you think evil is required as an activity for life to actively be?
I doubt that.
Death fixes everything. Fret not. Wait.
First make room, what was the Bronte word? Penetrium, no, cut n paste
[A]t once it struck me what quality went to form a Man of Achievement, especially in Literature, and which Shakespeare possessed so enormously - I mean Negative Capability, that is, when a man is capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason - Coleridge, for instance, would let go by a fine isolated verisimilitude caught from the Penetralium of mystery, from being incapable of remaining content with half-knowledge.
From <https://www.etymonline.com/columns/post/cloud-of-uknowing>
Happiness demands an agreement
Joy is in process, I agree, I am happy, haps happen and I notice
Note: Bronte was one to tweak fine puns with the word Penetralia: 1. The innermost parts of a building, especially the sanctuary of a temple. 2. The most private or secret parts; recesses: the penetralia of the soul. See Chapter one, Wuthering Heights.
----- From
bronteblog.blogspot.com/2006/03/emilys-penetralium_03.html
Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 12:12 AM UTC
Limutin na ang mundo
*Forget the world
And its intricacies
Your abusive father
Your good-for-nothing frenemies
Let go of the earth
Reach for the uncertainties*
Nang magkasama tayo
*I'll be here holding your hand
Reading your fears
In the lines of your palm
While feeling your taken risks
In the spirals of your fingertips*
Sunod sa bawat galaw
*Let me take the lead
Follow my steps
As we waltz off
From our consciousness
to the chains of the world*
Hindi na maliligaw
*We'll never be lost
When all miseries will be unknown
Or at least, we'll be lost
In all that is ours*
Mundo'y magiging ikaw
*You will be my world
And I hope I'll be yours too*
Oct 7, 2017
Oct 7, 2017 at 3:39 PM UTC
The vulnerability of baring myself fully
clenches the belly
panics the heart
stands my hairs on end.
It is truly the most terrifying thing
to stand in ones authenticity.
And yet. And yet.
The courage it takes.
The great tender strength.
The spine tingling elation.
The heart swells, and magic.
The naked beauty borne, in feeling you have nothing to hide.
The spirit touched ardor of a bare approach to life.
The openings and the mystery.
The expressions: tripping, falling, incomplete, misguided.
The wonderful mistakes, elucidating lessons.
The perfect imperfections.
The easing of honesty.
The engendered humility.
The profundity.
The sense of being touched, touching, and in touch with life.
The unmasked revelations, of full spectral undulation.
The this. The that. The I can accept it all.
The dropping of shame.
The incredible liberation, in shedding that shame.
The finding forgiveness for self, for other.
The quiver of unknowing.
The sweet caress of potential.
The dread. The sorrows. The uncertainties.
All making room for, in their acknowledgement:
Room for what else is there.
Room for laughter, and joy, and luminescence.
Room for flirtation, dancing, spontaneity.
Breaking open.
Melting into Love.
Soaring on the wings of Truth.
The hush, of anxious worry.
The Goodness bestowed.
The empathy.
The compassion.
The connection.
The holy restoration of creative flow.
The fires of real passion.
And everything.
And everything.
And Beauty.
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 12:12 PM UTC
The future: Insecurities.
Like a black chasm,
(swallowing your absentees).
Uncertainties, promiscuity,
bewildering circumstances,
you try to find present serenity.
You never knew smoldering
could happen underwater,
until you see that later,
always under the
weather.
Lost for words — train of thoughts,
lost for sure, the battles fought.
these insecurities eating me,
(who would have known?):
because I never let,
it to be really, shown.
Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 2:26 AM UTC
Tell me why it seems like the walls are closing in
Tell me why my hopes they're stretched far and thin
Tell me why my dreams still struggle in this fight
Tell me why every time I draw air but it feels so tight.
Tell me why in this turmoil my heart does wallow
Tell me why lifes' lessons by the heapfuls I choke to swallow
Tell me why I'm somewhat free but then again I am not
Tell me why I really do have but I haven't really got.
Tell me why I try to sleep many a restless night
Tell me why I am so afraid of many a fearful fright
Tell me why I still feel the way I have felt before
Tell me why I ask many questions which leaves me broken and sore.
Tell me why so much emotions run amok within me
Tell me why I look yet I do not really see
Tell me why despondence is back; it's here to haunt
Tell me why such uncertainties always beckons to taunt.
Tell me why I want more but I am quite contented
Tell me why I have to accept the path I've very much resented
Tell me why I already know but I still keep on asking
Tell me why it seems like the reasons are in every way lacking.
Tell me why I feel so happy but in fact I am so sad
Tell me why it all seems unfair but I have to be glad
Tell me why I found love in the most unfortunate circumstance
Tell me why to a mournful tune I am stuck in dance.
Tell me why my heart feels engorged but I can't release it all
Tell me why I am so scared but I would still want to fall
Tell me why I feel you close when you're farther than far
Tell me why it seems incredulous that we share the same star.
Tell me why I long to give you more when I can't this instant
Tell me why I can feel better but I seem so resistant
Tell me why sometimes I look up and curse at my luck
Tell me why I refuse to focus on courage that I really should pluck.
Tell me why I lay in bed dreaming of a place far away
Tell me why I find myself moping more and more each day
Tell me why I chose to be naive and in fate I do give trust
Tell me why time and time again it just gets ground to dust.
Tell me why I feel so beaten and weak when I should be strong
Tell me why I am so familiar in a place I don't belong
Tell me why I have to live with a mask on my face
Tell me why I feel like a marionette strung up by lace.
Tell me why I dug deep when these words make me cry
Tell me why the tears still trickle when my eyes are dry
Tell me why I share this when I know you would feel bad
Tell me why I would even spout the words that make you sad.
Tell me why these painful wounds I didn't choose to lick
Tell me why I didn't let them heal but instead I would pick
Tell me why I feel as though I am quite addicted
Tell me why it seems like I enjoy the dark I've inflicted.
Tell me why sometimes I question, the things you see in me
Tell me why you've said it many times but I don't really see
Tell me why I haven't drifted far when I should've a while ago
The reason is you; because you have chosen to love me.
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 8:30 PM UTC
Waiting near the shore
Trying to find a foothold
On sands of uncertainties
Giving way to the burden
Waiting for the waves
To sweep you off your feet
Now the waves come rushing
To kiss the fortunes
Get ready to surf
The waves of ecstasy and freedom
For you shall ride with them
To the shores of beauty
The sun kissed land waits for you
With welcome hands
Sea of opportunities here
To feel the warmth of promise, again
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 11:04 AM UTC
**
A new poetry posting site from God's own country, Kerala in India
Poetry dates all the way back to the beginnings of Humanity. People have always been questioning nature, and the day-to-day existence of themselves and other humans love, death, survival, war, injustice, and the universe are all examples of things that have been questioned by men and woman since the roots of human existence. Whether in nursery rhyme, ballad, jingle, rhyme, anthem, or music, people have found poetry to be an outlet for expressing these questions, sensations, and experiences
People often associate it with strict rhyming patterns, complicated vocabulary, hidden iconic meanings, and difficult rhythmical conventions. Poetry is even taught in school to be an intricate, complicated, inexplicable puzzle. True, poetry is difficult. Sure, it can be harder to understand than prose. However, that is only because sometimes it is involved with your inescapable complexities
and uncertainties of your existence.
In this era when the soul wants to go on a spree, imagination and creativity are all merged to serve and let you fulfill your wish to express. The pen, mightier than the sword, is free and can conquer hearts all over the world. So here is a site which allows unity in diversity and considers not cultural and racial barriers. It welcomes professionals and amateurs equally as poetry believe not in prejudice. Human beings are free to write their feelings and emotions. We therefore invite here people from all over the world to celebrate under the ipoetree. Feel at home here under the shade of this tree which
pines to have as fruits your poems.
Williamsji Maveli (Williams George Maveli) is an enthusiastic and solid writer. He is a sincere, resourceful and diligent in his poetic work. He is very well connected and networked within the literary community and is willing to take up projects even in his tight schedules. His writings reflect the amount of research on the current events that has gone into it along with his knowledge and expertise in the field. However, Williamsji’s many poems are simple to read, interpret, and understand. His latest book, titled “ARAMVIRALTHUMBATHU…” (On the tip of the sixth finger), is now published and released by H & C Books,Trichur, Kerala in India, which is a collection of lyrics.
If anyone is interested, please email to [email protected] or write to
WILLIAMSJI MAVELI
PO BOX 3
ANGAMALY
ERNAKULAM DISTRICT,
KERALA - INDIA
**
Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 2:23 AM UTC
i'm a broken compass and a delayed train and a set of faded curtains that don't quite keep the sun out and the glare they make in your eyes, but i love you in ways i don't know how to say.
so you can spill your guts to me and i'll clean them up with rags made of "sorry's" and that won't make it better but at least i'll have tried. i made this mess.
you are gasping for the air that i took from your lungs and my betrayal-bruised hands are much too slow to fill them at the same time i'm trying to patch up the holes.
eventually we lay together in a swallowing and somber silence, too many god **** miles apart, until i break it in half with not-good-enough words that serve as my version of an apology.
but i swear that i will shatter every bone in my legs before i run from you when you need me most and curse at the doubt that plagues my mind like black death.
i will shake my fists and scream obscenities at the uncertainties and banish every "what if" that begs access to my consciousness.
i will slit the throat of yesterday, and watch it bleed out - know you're more than enough for me, and hate myself for the pills in your body.
for you, you, are more than oxygen and no amount of salted regret that pours from my eyes could ever convey the thoughts my lips can't seem to form.
so i am shrunk to a pitiful half-whisper, muttering over and over and over and over, "i'm right here. i'm right here." and somehow we manage to be okay.
- m.f.
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 4:54 PM UTC
you were there on his last night
and was there on the night
we stumbled upon
an unfamiliar house
the creatures were making
a peculiar sound
it was the strange place we inhabited
for as long as we could be brave
you were with me when i lost a limb
you saw grief and tropical storms
right through my eyes
you heard words come out
of my mouth, they were all
in past tense and shaky
the best four years a teenager could have
i have spent them with you
i gave you my trust, my blood
and our promises
you met the 3am version of myself
which i believed that is ours
only to keep
i could not fathom the grief
of losing a limb
nor the grief
of seeing our strange house
collapse right in front of me
but the concrete was made of trust
you contended that you were here
to extend succor, immediate aid
to a grieving soul, to your friend
you came in crowds extending
sympathy as how i've seen it
little did i know that succor
meant pulling the trigger
when the tectonic plates
and the seismic waves
bends the buildings
and crumbles to the ground
when the tropical storm
named after me
pull the tress from its roots
floods the households
and all the different routes
or when your 3am uncertainties
scare you, and you would howl
and howl and howl
but who will you run to?
Nov 5, 2016
Nov 5, 2016 at 2:36 PM UTC
Foggy perception
Tenebrific moments
A long tunnel of
Uncertainties
Makes journey’s askew
So near, yet, so far
Never ending maze
And a blinding haze
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 11:38 PM UTC
She was as light as a feather
Carried on the sweetest wind.
A tonne weight locked
Around my fiercely protective heart.
As sure as an apple falling from a tree,
She brought uncertainties in abundance.
Physics had no question
For the answer she gave.
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 10:29 AM UTC
There’s a certain beauty in a woman who assures her beauty, who believes in herself and contains her assurance. A woman who doesn’t want to be someone else, yet who wants to do better not be better. A woman who invites you in - helps you surpass your fears of uncertainties. She sings along in delight and joy; living, loving, running along the rivers of natures gift. Plainly a woman with a past, an unknown future who she is not afraid of, but looking forward to reach it. A woman who isn’t afraid of getting old, who is gaining knowledge and strength daily. The past is something she learns from, the present is her best friend and the future yearns for her substance.
This - Is a Real woman.
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 3:09 AM UTC
I entered the room and there you were..
Sitting at a table with friends..
Your eyes dancing with laughter...
Your smile full of child like amusement...
I was instantly attracted to the ease with which you held your space in time...
Comfortable within your manliness..
Yet a little vulnerable within your beingness...
I felt the need to connect with you...
To share our ideas, experiences, desires and our passions...
As I allowed my mind to fantasize...I could feel you lying beside me..
Cradling my body, protecting and shielding me with your strength and wisdom...
Should I go and introduce myself?
Should I allow my fears and uncertainties keep me from allowing the.. per chance encounter?
Could this be love sitting across the room from me?
Or just an illusion...
Do I take a risk or let it pass out of my life...
The moment gone forever...
Taking a sip of wine..enjoying the flavor and sensation entering my body...I slowly rise..
Our eyes meet and we smile..
Excitement running through my veins...
and then..
I walk out the door
Oct 13, 2010
Oct 13, 2010 at 1:35 PM UTC
next to my cup of hot bitter coffee
my bowl has a cone
an avalanche of heartache cereals
that is about to fall...
a plate of
peppered uncertainties omelet
beckons to be gulped and wiped out....
but, alas, i feel already stuffed
i can no longer swallow...
-----------
i decided to skip breakfast....
Sally
Copyright 2013
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Oct 19, 2013
Oct 19, 2013 at 9:17 AM UTC
Attention pivoted on the farthest
Blurry are the things at hand
The horizon seems reachable
Near ones distances themselves further
Clarion call from beyond the realm
Here, the soul is writhing in anonymity
A void, that threatens to engulf the known
Uncertainties of the realization is real
Heart is anchored here with situation
Yet, the world beckons this soul
The traveler yearns to break loose
The farthest seems logical and reachable
Distance will be traversed through unrevealed
Journey holds key to reach the destination
Mar 22, 2015
Mar 22, 2015 at 8:32 AM UTC
She’s ready for a new chapter.
But is the new chapter ready for her?
She’s punk again as expected.
The cuts are holes for light to shine, from the lightning and thunder inside.
The plasters are lovers covering the wounds.
The Avocado for comfort and health.
The only way in which she takes care.
The rest is filled with beer and pain au chocolat.
For the pain, the discomfort, uncertainties.
The chains.
The chains remain.
The brain and tying ends together, pressure.
She’s getting ready.
Always getting ready.
But is she ever?
At least for the new chapter, the moment, she tries.
But it doesn’t feel right.
A little better after getting it together, over and over.
She’s never done.
Jun 30, 2025
Jun 30, 2025 at 9:35 AM UTC
This isn’t the first Saturday night ,
When your muse will gently kiss a faded parchment ,
And give birth to verses
That will keep me awake all night.
This isn’t the first Saturday night ,
When I will spill more ink than a wounded soldier ,
Writing his last letter back home ,
From the treacherous trenches
Of scarlet love.
But then the trenches I sought refuge in,
Are more treacherous than the rusted bayonet ,
With which he will script ,
The final chapters of his life .
And yet like him ,
If there’s one thing I have come to believe in ,
Then it’s this :
There is more comfort ,
In believing ,
In an unshakable absolute ,
Than there is in hiding ,
Beneath the mills of woolen warmth.
And
There is more naked grief ,
In letting your dreams ,
Be hinged to uncertainties,
Than there is in daring ,
To brave the winter without your warmth.
And yet you wonder?
Why I detest absolutes,
Which need a blanket of uncertainties ,
To survive the chill of a Saturday night ,
A night which as it drags on,
Like a frozen Nicholas sleigh ,
Seems to mock every fiber of hope in my being ,
Fibers that I unravelled to adorn
The dwelling of My absolute.
This isn’t the first Saturday Night when the tale will remain incomplete
Without that innocent question I crave to answer
For you are my absolute ,
Uncertainty.
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 11:54 AM UTC
Unsure,
Pen touches paper,
words tumble from my mind
straight
onto the page.
There is never any technique,
it's always just
misguided thoughts
expressive uncertainties
scrawled for the world.
Oct 19, 2013
Oct 19, 2013 at 2:26 PM UTC
How do I ask my mind to shut off?
How do I tell her "Enough"?
How do I ask my mind to leave me alone
when her very essence is to control my life?
She bothers me when I want to sleep,
I'm restless, wrestling with the thoughts and
uncertainties that I cannot put to bed
My bad days become her vice
My good days become her stomping ground
I'm a prisoner of my own mind
The feeling of constantly running away
but not knowing what you are running from
Always thinking the worst
but never really knowing why
My heart dancing inside my chest
bouncing off the walls while I
lay perfectly still
The incessant crying that drowns me
in a sea of endless fears
She calms down when she wants to,
but she never truly goes away
I always feel the storm coming
but I never know how hard it will rain
Jun 18, 2018
Jun 18, 2018 at 1:48 PM UTC
#
I want
my heart on a platter
so I can see the ins and outs
Want the act to matter
See it mirrored, my mouth, it shouts
Feels like
standing in front of the mic
singing of losing track of time
remembering this certain chime
Means I
don't really know how to defy
feeling lost in the rubble
of uncertainties and trouble
I hide
behind buckets full of the tide
I filled when the ocean didn't look
all I could see I took
I keep
time in a place safe and deep
live inside a moonlit jar
an ocean filled reservoir
read my own memoir
and said au revoir
#
Sep 15, 2018
Sep 15, 2018 at 1:39 AM UTC
Lungs filled up
with
questions questions questions.
Like in the pool as a child,
How long can you hold your breath?
Held under,
Burning pushing screaming
You've got to hold your breath.
The fraction left not choked out
by the uncertainties of the future
is weak, fatigued, and plagued by
doubt.
Minuscule trivialities become juggernauts
crushing the remains of structure.
When will I reach the surface?
What do I have left?
When can I breathe again?
Jul 7, 2011
Jul 7, 2011 at 9:04 PM UTC
*Like pieces on a chessboard
I took a leap of faith
Taking my destiny in my hands
Challenging uncertainties of fate...*
© Raphael Uzor
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 3:01 AM UTC
When your hand is in mine
I feel all of heaven's divine
When you are close, the world is naught
Drowning in your love, a triumph is sought
You may be there, I may be here
No matter what they say, there is nothing I fear
No longer am I afraid to surpass a crossroad's uncertainties
You taught me to drop off my insecurities
*If kisses were raindrops, I'd send you showers
If hugs were seconds, I'd send you hours
If smiles were water, I'd send you the sea
If love is a package, I'd send you me.. *
There must be someone else better for you
But you define me as the best one for you
No longer "I" but "We" is the promise we formulated
A perpetual journey together, we have created
I look behind not with bitter regrets
How my heart merged with yours, I can never forget
We've reached this far with this love so true
I'd be glad to walk endless miles with you
My eyes swell with tears, I whisper and pray
Take me in your arms, let me cry today
May my breath, find refuge in your heart
Deep in your love, may my life depart
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 9:32 PM UTC